Mr. Pottle thumped his narrow chest.
"Me, Pottle. Pottle!"
"Oh, you Pottle-pottle," said the savage, evidently pleased with his own powers of comprehension.
Mr. Pottle let it go at that. Why argue with a cannibal? He addressed the savage again.
"Mealy-mealy, you eatum long pig? Eatum long pig you? Long pig you eatum?"
This question agitated Mealy-mealy. He trembled. Then he nodded his head in the affirmative, a score of rapid nods.
Mr. Pottle's voice faltered a little as he asked the next question.
"Where you gottum tribe? You gottum tribe where? Tribe you gottum where?"
Mealy-mealy considered, scowled, and said:
"Gottum velly big tribe not far. Velly fierce. Eatum long pig. Eatum Pottle-pottle."