“You—” the chief looked incredulous, “you hit me like that?”
Johnny nodded. He dared not trust his voice.
“Why! You—you little hammer!” exclaimed the chief.
At that there was a roaring burst of laughter. From that day on Johnny was known among the Caribs as “Little Hammer.”
Tivoli joined heartily in the laugh and as it subsided, to Johnny’s great surprise and joy, he exclaimed:
“You want men? I got men. All the men you want. How many men, you think? Sixty men? Half work, half watch and fight? What you think? All right?”
At this sudden turn of fortune’s wheel, Johnny’s head was too much in a whirl to permit of much clear thinking. He merely nodded. Then, seized by a sudden inspiration, he invited Tivoli to join him in his feast of roast peccary—an invitation which was promptly accepted.
“Hardgrave,” said Johnny, as the two sat in the hotel court after the feast and Tivoli’s departure, “do these creatures, these jaguars which the natives call ‘tigers,’ ever become man-eaters?”
“Once in a blue moon they do. I knew of one that did. That was on the island of Riotan. And, by the way, it was only a month ago that an Englishman, a chicle buyer, told me of actually seeing one stalking a man—up the Rio Hondo, too. By all that’s good! Right up in your country! It must have been!”
Johnny leaned forward in unconcealed interest.