“It is well with us. But it does not seem to be well with the lady,” returned Laihova, glancing at the uncomfortable female with her head tied up.
“No, it is not well with her. She has toothache on the north side of her head. Farewell,” said the brown old gentleman, re-squatting on the fijerèna, as the travellers moved on; “may you live,” he shouted after them, when nearly out of ear-shot, “and reach old age.”
Great was the amusement of our travellers at all this, especially when Ravonino explained about the toothache. “You must know,” he said, “that almost all the houses in the central provinces of the island are built with their length running north and south, or nearly so, and the people use the points of the compass in describing the position of things. Thus, if they tell a slave to look for a thing in the house, they will say, Look in the north, south, east, or west corner, or side; and they apply this rule to the person also. I once heard the member of a mission from England told by his host that some rice was sticking to his moustache. The missionary wiped the wrong side. ‘No,’ said the host, ‘it is on the southern side of your moustache.’”
“Do you know,” said Mark Breezy, “that is not so strange to me as you might suppose; for I was once told by a friend who lived in the Scottish Highlands, that an old woman there actually said to her that she had toothache on the east side of her head!”
Further comment on this point was arrested by their coming suddenly in sight of the house where the guide’s friend dwelt.
“You had better stay here at the edge of this wood, while I go forward alone,” said the guide; “because although the man is kind, and has always professed to be my friend, I am not quite sure of him. It is well to be cautious. If I wave my hand to you, come up to the house, all will be well. If things don’t seem favourable I will return to you—but keep close; don’t show yourselves needlessly. You see, my friend is an officer of the palace. If friendly he can be very useful to us, if unfriendly he can be dangerous.”
“But why run risk by going near him at all?” asked Mark.
“We must run risk when life and death are in the balance,” replied the guide, shortly.
Concealed by the bushes, the travellers watched their companion as he went up to the house. Before he reached it a man opened the door and stepped out. Suddenly this man seemed to burst into a furious passion. He grasped Ravonino by the throat, almost threw him on his back, and, seizing a stick, began to belabour him violently, while two other men appeared at the door of the house, and, from their inordinate laughter, seemed fully to enjoy the scene.
“Hi!” exclaimed Ebony in shrill falsetto, as he jumped up in blazing wrath, intending to rush to the rescue, but Hockins grasped his woolly head and pulled him back.