g for
such a feast, that I leaned back against the cocoa-nut tree by the fire
and laughed till I cried.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

COMPANY TO DINNER.

I was wiping the tears from my eyes as Mr Ebony, as uncle called him,
came up, carrying something in a great palm leaf, while his companions
had something else in a basket.

Mr Ebony was grinning tremendously. Then he said something, and the
two others went away, while our black guest, for that he evidently meant
to be, sniffed at the pigeons, rubbed himself, and danced with delight.

But we had wronged him, for he was not going to behave shabbily, for,
taking the basket, he rolled out of it a dozen great fruit, half being
cocoa-nuts, the other something nearly as large that I had never seen
before.

Then he nodded and grinned, and had another bit of a dance before
unrolling the huge palm leaf, and showing us four good-looking fishes,
each twice as big as a large mackerel, and so fresh that one was hardly
now dead.

Mr Ebony grinned and danced again, nodding at us both, and saying
something in his tongue which sounded to me like, "Now we'll have such a
jolly tuck-out;" but of course it was not that, though it evidently
meant as much.

The next minute with wonderful skill our visitor had cut some bamboos
with a kind of adze he had in the cord round his waist, slit open and
cleaned the fish with a sharp-pointed piece of wood, and then got each
one stuck on a piece of bamboo to roast before the fire.

He was like a man on springs; he did things so jerkily and quick,
jumping up and rushing off, to come back laden with wood for the fire,
some of which he carefully put on, and then nodded and grinned and
rubbed himself.

"Well, Mr Ebony," said my uncle, smiling, "you are really not a bad
fellow after all; and as you have come to dinner in full dress I am very
glad to see you, and let's fall to. By all the rules of etiquette, my
dear sir, soup comes first, sir. We have no soup. Fish follows next,
but, my dear carbonaceous-looking friend, the fish is not done, while
the pigeons are, so sit down. Nat, my boy, give our honoured guest a
tin plate and a biscuit. Monsieur Ebony--pigeon?"

As my uncle spoke he pulled up his bamboo spit, and, taking hold of the
sandy end, he presented the other to our visitor, who took hold tightly,
watching my uncle the while as he drew his hunting-knife, and, with a
dexterous chop, divided the bamboo in two, leaving each with a pig