“Indeed! I had understood you to say that you were going south.”
“No; you not have onderstand me. I goes to de west, ver’ long way.”
“Then, sir, I wish you a safe and pleasant journey,” said Jack, lifting his cap.
“De same to you, sairs, an’ goot plenty of gorillas to you. Farder nord dey be more plenty. Adieu!”
We took off our caps to each other, and saying farewell, we turned away, and soon lost sight of the party.
“Ho! de yaller-faced villain,” exclaimed Makarooroo between his clinched teeth, after we were out of earshot.
“Why, what’s wrong, Mak?” inquired Peterkin, in great surprise.
“Ho! noting porteekler,” replied the guide, with an air and tone of sarcasm that quite amused us. “Hims not go sout’, ho no! hims go west, ho yis! Hims advise us to go nort’, ho dear! dat bery clibber, bery mush clibber; but we is clibberer, we is, ho! ho! ho!”
Our worthy guide looked so terribly fierce as he uttered this fiendish laugh, that we all came to a stand and gazed at him in surprise; we fancied that something must have deranged his mind.
“Mak,” said Peterkin, “you are mad. What mean you by such grimaces?”