ow, hesitating way, looked as if he were going to
eject the morsel as the corners of his lips turned down, but bit a piece
more instead, then popped the remaining half in his mouth, and smiled.

"Horrid, ain't they?" cried Tim, while, grinning with genuine pleasure,
the black held out another to Norman, who took it directly, held it in
first one hand, and then the other, blew upon it to cool it, and then
began to eat.

"Oh, they are horrid," he cried. "Give us another, blacky."

"Look here," cried Rifle, watching him curiously, to see if there was
any deceit. "I'm not going to be beaten by you two. I say--no games--
are they really nice?"

"Find out," cried Norman, stretching out his hand to take another from
the pointed stick held out to him. But Rifle was too quick; he snatched
it himself, and put it in his mouth directly.

"Oh, murder! isn't it hot," he cried, drawing in his breath rapidly,
then beginning to eat cautiously, with his features expanding. "Here,
give us another, Tam o' Shanter," and he snatched the next.

"Oh, come, I say, play fair," cried Norman, making sure of the next.
"Ain't they good?"

"'Licious," said Rifle.--"Come on, cookie. More for me."

"All agone," cried the black, springing up, slapping his legs, and
indulging in a kind of triumphal dance round the fire to express his
delight at having converted the three white boys, ending by making a
tremendous bound in the air, and coming down on all fours. "Eat um all
up. You go 'long--come along. Shanter find a more."

"No, not now, old chap," said Norman. "Wait a bit."

"Had 'nuff? Good, good!" cried the black, holding his head on one side
and peering at all in turn. "Good--corbon budgery!" (Very good!)

"Yes, splendid. We'll have a feast next time."

The black nodded, and picked up the two little animals which he had
tossed aside, and rehung them upon his spear.

He was evidently going to roast them, but Norman stopped him, and
pointed out into the open.

"Come along with us."

The black understood.

"Yes; Shanter, come along. Chop sugar-bag."

"But, look here," continued Norman, pointing in different directions.
"Black fellow?"

"Black fellow?" cried Shanter, seizing his nulla-nulla--the short club
he carried with a round hard knob at the end. "Black fellow?"

He dropped the dead game off his spear, dodged sharply about among the
trees, and ended by hurling his weapon at a tree twenty yards away, in
whose so