“You see him piece?” pointing to this long thin part. “Live along Bob. Him die for sure. Plenty bad.”
“Can’t we cut it out as we did the other?” asked Bill.
“No pican white man,” said Calla. “Him along a bone. No can see or catch.”
This sentence of death passed upon the poor fellow affected us very much, and we were intensely disgusted when Calla quite coolly proposed to knock him on the head at once, as he would suffer great pain, and would not again recover consciousness, or, as Calla put it, “Peak along man sabey it.”
To this, of course, we would not consent, and also told Calla that we could not leave the wounded man to go and see his father.
Calla seemed very much displeased about this, and said,—
“Make plenty bobbery along man no lib. He no fit for kiki. What you want?” But seeing that we were determined to remain, he went away and left us to ourselves.
“Not much civilization about that fellow,” I said. “Although he makes out he ‘live along of white man plenty time,’ I believe he’s just as big a cannibal as the rest of them.”
“Yes,” said Tom. “And though he may think for a time of our having saved his life, if it runs with his interests to kill us after a time, he will do so.”
In this we afterwards found we wronged poor Calla.