I laughed at myself, yet the sudden rising of a ruffed grouse in the deep forests at home will frequently startle a chap quite as badly as this, and I am sure that the poor toucan was more scared than I, for I nearly stepped on him when I approached the river bank.
As usual we moved on up the river all the next day and camped at night. And quite as silently as they had come before, the two Indians appeared within our camp circle. This time each had a wild boar slung over his back like a knapsack. The beasts’ feet were tied together with a small vine. Father and son had each killed one with a spear. They were greeted warmly by us and given cigarettes. But they did not seem to care about parting with the game. After a while, being persuaded by the clever Captain Peter, they agreed to let us have them, but first they must take them to their camp to clean them. I learned the reason afterwards.
Here was my opportunity to see the Indians in their homes, to see how they lived.
“Will it be all right to go home with them?” I asked the captain. He said that it would and so I turned to the father.
“Me walkee with you, savvy? Me go long-side your home.”
“No sabbe, no sabbe,” said the Indian.
“I want to walk along home with you,” I said, in straight English this time. The Indian understood that well enough.
“BRINGING HOME THE BACON”