“Shame on you, Ebony, to suspect such a thing!” said Orlando. “You would be better employed getting things ready for to-morrow’s journey than casting imputations on our hospitable friends.”
“Dar’s not’ing to git ready, massa,” returned the negro. “Eberyting’s prepared to start arter breakfust.”
“That’s well, and I am sure the change to the seashore will do you good, father, as well as Rosco. You’ve both been too long here. The cave is not as dry as one could wish—and, then, you’ll be cheered by the sound of children playing round you.”
“Yes, it will be pleasant to have Lippy running out and in again,” said Zeppa.
They did not converse much, for the strength of both Zeppa and Rosco had been so reduced that they could not even sit up long without exhaustion, but Orlando kept up their spirits by prattling away on every subject that came into his mind—and especially of the island of Ratinga.
While they were thus engaged they heard the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, and next moment Tomeo and Buttchee bounded over the bushes, glaring and panting from the rate at which they had raced up the hill to tell the wonderful news!
“Eberyting bu’nt?” exclaimed Ebony, whose eyes and teeth showed so much white that his face seemed absolutely to sparkle.
“Everything. Idols and temple!” repeated the two chiefs, in the Ratinga tongue, and in the same breath.
“An’ nebber gwine to fight no more?” asked Ebony, with a grin, that might be more correctly described as a split, from ear to ear.
“Never more!” replied the chiefs.