“Ah!” said Jack, with a smiling yawn, “that’s it, is it? Been hunting elephants and lions, eh?”
“Why, how did you guess that?” I asked, in surprise; “were you not asleep just now?”
“Of course I was, and dreaming too, like yourself, I make no doubt. I had just bagged my fifteenth elephant and my tenth lion when your laugh awoke me. And the best of it is that I was carrying the whole bagful on my back at once, and did not feel much oppressed by the weight.”
“That beats my dream hollow,” observed Peterkin; “so its my opinion we’d better have breakfast.—Makarooroo, hy! d’ye hear? rouse up, you junk of ebony.”
“Yis, massa, comin’,” said our guide, rising slowly from his lair on the opposite side of our fireplace.
“D’you hear?”
“Yis, massa.”
“You’re a nigger!”
“Dat am a fact.”
“Well, being a nigger you’re a brick, so look sharp with that splendid breakfast you promised us last night. I’ll wager a million pounds that you had forgotten all about it.”