CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
By a wonderfully kindly arrangement of nature we recover very rapidlywhen we are young; and before half an hour had passed I was seated onthe thwart, using one of the oars, while the boy was using the other,but he kept leaving off rowing to gaze earnestly in my face; and when Ismiled at him to show him that I was better, he showed his white teeth,and even then I could not help thinking what a bright, chubby-lookingface he had, as he plunged his oar in again, and tugged at it, rowingvery clumsily, of course, but helping me to get the boat along till wereached the rough logs and the stumps which formed our landing-place,where I was very glad to get ashore and make the boat fast.
"Well, George, how many fish?" cried my father, as I went up to thehouse, to find him in the garden trying to direct the big black how touse his hoe.
"None, father," I said, half hysterically, for I was quite broken down.
"Why, what's the matter?" he said. "Hallo! Been in?"
"Yes--been drowned--that boy."
"What!" cried my father, furiously.
"No, no! He jumped in--saved me--I was going down."
I saw my father close his eyes, and his lips moved as he stood holdingmy hand in his, evidently struggling with his emotion. Then he saidquietly--
"Better go in and get some dry clothes, and--"
He stopped and stood listening and gazing in wonder at the great negroand my companion, for the boy had gone up to him, and gesticulatingrapidly and with animated face he seemed to be relating what had passed.
The change that came over the big fellow's face was wonderful. Theminute before it wore its old, hard, darkening look of misery, with theeyes wild and the forehead all wrinkled and creased; but now as he stoodlistening, his eyes lit up, his forehead grew smooth, and his faceseemed to have grown younger; his tightly-drawn-together lips parted,showing his white teeth. So that as my father took a step or twoforward, seized the boy's arm, and then laid his hand upon his head, itwas a completely transformed countenance that looked in my father's.For the man caught his hand, bent down and held it against his forehead,saying a few words in a low tone, and then drew respectfully away.
"You have had a narrow escape, my boy," said my father, huskily; "butout of evil sometimes comes good; and it looks as if your accident hasbroken the ice. Those two are completely transformed. It is just as ifwe had been doing them good, instead of their doing good to us. Butthere, get in. I don't want to have you down with a fever."
My father was right; our two servants--I will not call them slaves, forthey never were that to us--appeared indeed to be quite transformed, andfrom that day they always greeted me with a smile, and seemed to bestruggling hard to pick up the words of our language, making, too, themost rapid progress. The heavy, hard look had gone from the black'sface, and the boy was always showing his white teeth, and on thelook-out either to do something for me, or to go with me on myexcursions.
In a week it was "Mass' George," and in a month, in a blundering way, hecould begin to express what he had to say, but only to break down andstamp, ending by bursting into a hearty laugh.
It was my doing that the pair were called Pompey and Hannibal, and dayafter day, as I used to be out in the garden, watching the big black,who had entirely recovered his strength, display how great that strengthwas, I wondered how it was possible that the great happy-looking fellowcould be the same dull, morose savage that we had brought dying ashore.
At the end of another couple of months, I went in one day full of a newdiscovery.
"Do you know who Pomp is, father?" I exclaimed.
"Yes; an unfortunate young negro from the west coast of Africa."
"Yes, father, but more than that. Hannibal has been telling me, and Ithink I understand him, though it's rather hard. They lived in avillage up the country, and the enemy came in the night, and killedsome, and took the rest prisoners to march them down to the coast, andsell them for slaves. Pomp's mother was one of them, and she fell downand died on the march."
"Did Hannibal tell you this?"
"Yes, father, and sat and cried as he told me; and Pompey's his son."
"Are you sure?"
"Oh, yes. He always calls Pompey `my boy,' and Pomp called him `fader'to-day."
"Ah, but that may merely be imitation."
"I don't think it is," I said, eagerly; and I proved to be right, forthey certainly were father and son.
The winter came and passed rapidly away, and it was never cold tosignify, and with the coming spring all thoughts of the Indians and theSpaniards died away.
My father would talk about the Indians' visitation sometimes, but heconsidered that it was only to see if we were disposed to be enemies,and likely to attack them; but finding we did not interfere in theleast, and were the most peaceable of neighbours, they were content toleave us alone.
"And the Spaniards only tried to frighten us away, Morgan," I said oneday.
"Well, I s'pose so, Master George; but you see we're so shut up here wenever know what's going to take place unless a ship puts in. It's avery beautiful place, but there isn't a road, you see, that's worthcalling a road. Ah, there were roads in Carnarvon!"
"I don't believe you'd care to go back to them though, Morgan," I said.
"Well, I hardly know, Master George; you see this place don't 'pear toagree with our Sarah's temper. It gets very trying sometimes when it'shot. It was very hot this morning, and she was so put out that whenyoung Pomp put his black head in at the door she threw the big woodenshovel at him."
"But what for?"
"That's what I said to her, Master George. `Sarah,' I says, `what hadthe poor black boy done to make you throw things at him?'
"`Done,' she says; `didn't you see him put his head round the door andgrin at me?'
"`Well,' I says, `Sarah, my girl, that's only his way of showing that helikes you.'
"`Then I don't want him to like me, and he's more trouble than he'sworth.' And there's a lot of truth in that, Master George."
"Why he works hard, Morgan," I said.
"Yes, just so long as you are watching him. Then he's off to play someprank or another. That boy always seems to me as if he must be doingsomething he ought not to do."
"Oh, he's a very good boy."
"Never make such a man as his father, my lad. Humph! Here he is."
I turned, and there, sure enough, was Pomp making a large display of hiswhite teeth, and holding something behind so that we should not see.
"What have you got?" I said.
He drew a basket forward and displayed four good-sized terrapins, andoffered them to Morgan for a present.
"No, no," grumbled the man, "I don't want them, and I'm sure that themissus would find fault if I took them in. She hates them; besides, I'mnot going to be sugared over like that, to keep me from speaking out.Now, look here, you've been fishing."
"Yes, sah. Kedge de terrupum."
"And I told you to hoe down between those yams, didn't I?"
"Yes, Mass' Morgan, I going to hoe down de yam-yam."
"But why isn't it done?"
"I d'know," said Pomp, innocently.
"You don't know?"
"No, sah, don't know 'tall."
"But I told you to do them," said Morgan, angrily. "Didn't I?"
"Yes, sah."
"Then why didn't you do them?"
"Wanted to go and kedge terrupum."
"Now, look here, sir, you've got to do what you're told."
"What you tell me, den?"
"I told you to go and hoe those yams, and you neglected the duty to gofishing."
"Yes, sir, go fishing; kedge terrupum."
"Instead of doing your work."
"Mass' Morgan, sah," began Pomp, in a tone of protest, but Morganinterrupted him.
"Now then, how is it those yams are not hoed?"
"Don't know, sah. Tell Hannibal hoe them."
"You told Hannibal to hoe them--your father?"
"Yes, tell um fader
hoe um; Mass' Morgan want um done."
"Yes, but I wanted you to do them."
"Yes, sah, and I want um fader to hoe um yam while I go kedge terrupum.You make big holler at um for not do um."
"Now then, look you, Master George, oughtn't this fellow to be flogged?"
"You say no, Mass' George, and--"
Morgan darted out a hand to catch Pomp's arm, but the boy was too quick,and dodged behind me.
"Let him be," I said; "he doesn't know any better."
"But I want to teach him better," grumbled Morgan.
"Hist! Mass' George. I find great 'gator."
"Where?" I asked, eagerly, for I had long had an idea that I shouldlike to see another of the monsters.
"Down by de ribber. All lay long so, out in de hot sun."
Pomp threw himself on the ground, and wallowed along a little way. "Allalong so, sah, while I done kedge de terrupum, and then all along tellMass' George come and shoot um."
"How big was it?" I said, eagerly.
"Big as ebber so much. Come on, see um, Mass' George."
"It's only some little one, half as big as the one we pulled out of thehole," said Morgan. "You never want to go on them games now you've gotthat black chap."
"Oh, I'll go with you any time, if you'll come."
"Too busy, sir, too busy. Going to get a gun?"
"Yes, I'll go and see. It may be a big one. Colonel Preston's man toldme there are some very big ones up the river on the mud-banks."
"Yes, sir, but nobody ever sees them."
"Well, I'll try this time, and if my father asks for me, say where I'vegone."
I heard Morgan mutter something, but paid no heed, knowing that it wassomething about being careful with the gun, for I was not without myshare of conceit and belief in my capacity of taking care of a gun. Formy father had rather encouraged me to practise with his fowling-piece,as also with one of the heavy fire-locks we had in the house.
"An emergency might come," he said; and what with his instructions andthose of Morgan, I was, if not a good marksman, as fairly expert ascould be expected from a boy of my years.
I soon had the gun from its slings, and, providing myself with powderand ball, rejoined Pomp, whose eyes rolled with excitement at the sightof the piece.
"Me carry de powder shot bag," he cried, eagerly; and I let him slingthe pouches over his shoulder, and followed behind him, as he marchedoff with head erect, and a look of pride that was ludicrous. He was, asa rule, a creature apparently made up of springs, which were alwayssetting him in motion; but when bound upon any shooting or fishingexcursion the natural pride in his brain rose above everything else, andI was often turned into quite a secondary personage, and had to obey.
It was so upon this occasion, for just as we reached the edge of theforest he stopped short, and in a stern whisper said--
"'Top here and load um gun, or wake ole 'gator where um sleep."
I obeyed, of course, ramming home a bullet, and as I was in the act ofremoving the rod from the barrel, Pomp suddenly exclaimed--
"Top um bit."
He ran off at full speed, and came back with his eyes flashing, andflourishing a small axe which he had fetched from the shed. This hedirectly after thrust into his belt, and holding up his hand,whispered--
"Now, no make noise. I go first."
He went on, leading me through the drier part of the swamp, and rightaway from the river, to my great wonderment; but after walking silentlyabout half an hour he stopped, again held up his hand, and then with thegreatest of caution crept on through the bushes, and in and out amongthe swamp-trees, never making the slightest sound, and I followed aswell as I could for about a quarter of an hour, when he signed to me tostop, and I knew by the bright light a little farther on that the riverwas pretty near.
The next moment he was down flat, crawling slowly over the mossy ground,looking back to see if I was watching him, and pausing at last close toa gnarled old tree, which he tried to keep between him and the water.
I had been watching him lying there for about five minutes, when Ibecame aware of the fact that he was returning as silently as he hadgone, and as he reached me he put his lips to my ear.
"'Gator sleep in de mud. Mass' George, crawl up to de big tree, look'long gun, and shoot um."
I was skilled enough then in the huntsman's craft to know what to do,and divesting myself of hat and boots, I went down and crawledcautiously in the trail made by the boy, trying hard to go as silentlyand with as little effort, but the nervous excitement set my heartbeating, and by the time I reached the great gnarled tree I feltbreathless, and my hands trembled exceedingly.
I lay quite still for a few minutes before venturing to do more, andthen inch by inch I drew myself sidewise, and peered round the ruggedtrunk of the tree.
The next moment I was quite paralysed by the surprise I felt, for there,not twenty feet away from the spot where I lay, was a monstrousalligator, evidently fast asleep on a glistening mud-bank, his trailfrom the water being distinctly marked in the soft mud. There were theprints of his paws, and of his long tapering tail, and I could donothing but gaze at his great proportions.
As far as I could judge he was about fourteen feet long, but evidentlyof great age, from his bulk, his horny hide banded and barred andcorrugated, while the strength of such a beast must be, I knew,tremendous.
How long I watched the sleeping monster I cannot tell, but it was sometime before I woke up to the fact that I had come on purpose to put anend to its destructive career, and that I had a gun ready charged in myhand lying close alongside.
Then with my heart beating fast I slowly pushed the barrel forward,resting it upon one of the mossy buttresses at the tree-trunk, my eyesfixed all the time upon the great closed and smiling mouth, and thepeculiar heavily-browed eyes.
As if I were moved by something that was not myself, I gradually got thegun into position, grasping it firmly and pressing the butt home, whileI carefully sighted the monster, wondering a little what theconsequences would be if I missed, whether I should be attacked, andwhether I should have time to get away. But directly after every sensewas concentrated upon the task I had in hand, and just as I was about todraw trigger the creature quickly raised its head, as if suspecting thenearness of danger.
I was well ready though now, and raised the barrel of my gun slightly,pressed it against the tree, and fired.
There was the roar of the gun, a tremendous kick on the shoulder, andbeyond the heavy sour-smelling smoke by which I was surrounded I heard atremendous splashing and thrashing noise, accompanied by heavy blows, asif the monster was striking hard at something near.
But I lay perfectly still, feeling that the wounded monster would onseeing me make a spring, and if it did I knew that my life was at anend.
The splashings and the dull beating sound continued, but I kept behindthe sheltering tree, now wondering whether the creature would havestrength to get back into the river, or whether it would be therewaiting for its assailant. At last, fascinated as it were by the desireto peep round the tree-trunk which sheltered me from my victim, I gentlypeered out, and stared in astonishment, for there was Pomp busy at workwith his axe cutting off the reptile's head, while the tail keptwrithing and lashing the stream, alongside which it had nearly crawled.
"Dat's got um," cried Pomp. "Hi! Ohey! Mass' George."
I was already on my legs, and, gun in hand, I parted the bushes, andjoined the boy just as the monster gave a tremendous heave and a writhe,and rolled off the bank with a tremendous splash in the water.
"Ah, you no kedge fish and eat um no more, eh, Mass' George?" he cried."'Gator no good widout um head, eh?"
I looked down on the mud, and there, sure enough, lay the creature'shead.
"Why, Pomp!" I exclaimed; "what have you been doing?"
"Cut off um head, Mass' George. He no like dat."
Pomp broke out with one of his laughs, hooked hold of the grinning head,and dragged it out of the mu
d up to the side of a clear pool, a littleway back in the swamp.
"Stop a bit," I said; "I want to have a good look at it."
"Wait till I wash um, Mass' George. No; must wash umself fus. Here amess."
Pomp was about to jump into the pool to wash the mud from his legs, whenhe suddenly clapped his hands.
"Oh, here's game, Mass' George; only look. Dat's ole 'gator's house awater, where he keep all 'um lil pickaninny. Look at 'um."
Sure enough, there were five or six small alligators at the far end--little fellows not very long out of the shell.
"Oh dear!" cried Pomp, "I very sorry for you poor fellows. Poor oldfader got um head cut off. What, you no b'lieve um? Den look dah."
He threw the great head into the pool with a splash, and then jumped into stand up to his knees, washing it about till it was free from mud,and his legs too, when he dragged it out again on to the green moss, andwe proceeded to examine the horrible jaws.
"Him much worse den Pomp."
"What do you mean?"
"Mass' Morgan and de capen say Pomp do lot o' mischuff. Dat do moremischuff den Pomp."
"Yes, I should think so," I said, as I examined the dripping head, andsaw plainly that my bullet must have gone right through the monster'sbrain, probably only stunning it for the time being, and enough to givethe boy time to hack off its head. For these creatures have an amountof vitality that is wonderful, and after injuries that are certain inthe end to prove fatal, contrive to get back into the water and swimaway.
It was a long time before I was satisfied with gazing at the grinninghead, with its great teeth and holes in the upper jaw into which theyseemed to fit as into a sheath. At last though I turned to the boy.
"We must take it home, Pomp," I said.
"No," he said, with a look of disgust. "Um quite dead now. Frow uminto de ribber."
"Oh no! I want my father to see it, and Morgan."
"We go an' fess um den."
"No, no. You must carry it home."
"No, too heaby, Mass' George, and um begin to 'tink."
I laughed, for Pomp was beginning to show his natural disinclination forwork, though certainly the hideous head did send forth an unpleasant,musky odour. So long as an exciting task was on hand which interestedhim, Pomp would work most industriously; but over anything plodding andapproaching drudgery he was laziness itself.
"I frow um in de ribber, or you frow um in, Mass' George."
"Neither," I said. "It must be carried home."
"What, dat great heaby head?"
"Yes."
"What, all de way fro' de tree?"
"Yes."
"No, no, Mass' George, um too heaby. Dat kill a poor nigger all dead,oh!"
"Nonsense! It is not so heavy as all that."
"Oh, yes; um drefful heaby. Frow um in."
"But I want my father to see it, and Morgan would like to."
"Eh? I see."
He ducked down quickly, and lifted the head on to an old stump. Then,breaking off a bough of dead wood, he chopped a short piece off andpropped open the huge jaws.
"Dah!" he exclaimed, gleefully. "Dat make um laugh, and de fly come inan' out, an' um no snap at um no more."
"But don't I tell you that I want them to see it at home. Sarah wouldlike to see it too."
"Eh? Oh, no, Mass' George," cried Pomp, excitedly, and beginning toimitate poor Sarah's sharp acid way so accurately that I roared withlaughter. For every tone of her voice--every gesticulation--was exactlytrue to nature.
"`What!'" he cried; "`what you mean, you nast' black young rascal, bringdat ting in my clean kitchun? I get hold ob you, I box your ears. Howdah you--how dah you! Take um away--take um away!' Dat what MissesSarah say."
"But we will not take it into her clean kitchen, Pomp. We'll put it onthat pine-stump at the bottom of the garden."
"Oh, no, Mass' George. Sun shine on um, and de fly come on. Make um'mell horrid."
"Oh, that will soon go off," I said. "Come, let's get back. Wait tillI've loaded again though. Here, give me the powder and a bullet. Wemight see something else."
"Eh?"
"I said give me the powder and a bullet. Halloa! Where's theammunition?"
"Eh? Now where I put dat amnisham, Mass' George? I dunno."
"Why, you must have laid it down on the ground when we came after thealligator."
"Sure I did, Mass' George. Ah, you are clebber boy. Come 'long, wefind um we go back."
"No, no, stop. I want that head carried home."
"But um so heaby, Mass' George, and poor Pomp drefful hot an' tire."
"Dreadful lazy you mean," I cried, angrily. "Come, sir."
"Now, Mass' George cross again, and goin' break poor lil nigger heart,"he whimpered.
"Stuff! Sham! Lay hold of that head."
"Break um back den, carry dat great heaby thing."
"It will not. You didn't think it heavy when you dragged it along withthe axe."
"Head all hot den, Mass' George; got cold now."
"Why, you lazy, cunning young rascal!" I cried; "if you don't pick thathead up directly, and bring it along!"
"Ugh!" ejaculated Pomp, with a shudder; "um so dreffel ugly, Pompfrighten to deff."
I could not help laughing heartily at his faces, and the excuses he keptinventing, and he went on--
"Pomp wouldn't mind a bit if de head dry, but um so dreffel wet an'nasty. An' you come close here, Mass' George, an' 'mell um. Ugh!"
He pinched his nose between his fingers, and turned his back on themonster.
"Now, no nonsense, sir," I said, severely. "I will have that carriedhome."
"For de massa see um, an' Mass' Morgan?"
"Yes," I said.
"Oh!" exclaimed the boy, in a tone which suggested that he at lastunderstood me; "for de massa and Mass' Morgan see um. I run home fessum here."
He was off like a shot, but my voice checked him.
"Stop, sir."
"You call, Mass' George?"
"Come here, you young rascal!"
"Come dah, Mass' George? No fess um here?" he said, coming slowlycringing up.
"No, sir. Now then, no nonsense; take hold of that head."
Pomp stuck the handle of the axe into the band of his short cottondrawers, wiped a tear out of each eye, and took the hideous great headoff the stump, looking at me reproachfully, as he bent with its weight.
"Is it very heavy?" I said.
"Kill poor boy carry um all dat way, Mass' George."
I stood the gun up against the nearest tree, and went to him and liftedthe head, to find that it really was a pretty good weight.
"Yes," I said, replacing it on the stump; "it is heavy, Pomp."
"Den I go fess Mass' Bruton here," he cried, joyfully.
"No. Give me that axe."
He took the little chopper out of his belt, and slowly and shrinkinglygave me the handle; then dropped on his knees, crossed his hands on hisbreast, and lowered his head.
"Don' kill um dis time, Mass' George. Pomp berry sorry such a lazyrascal."
"Get up, and don't to stupid," I said, roughly. "Who's going to killyou?" and looking round, I had soon found and cut down a stout youngsapling, which I trimmed into a pole, Pomp watching me the while with apiteous expression on his countenance.
"There," I said, when I had done, and provided myself with a stout poleabout ten feet long.
"Oh! Ow!" burst forth Pomp in a terrified howl.
"What's the matter now?" I cried in astonishment.
"Nebber tink Mass' George such coward."
"Eh? What do you mean?"
"Lil bit do, Mass' George."
"No, it wouldn't."
"Off!"
"Here, what's the matter? What do you mean?" I cried, as he threwhimself down on the moss, and kept on drawing up his legs as if inagony, and kicking them out again like a frog.
"Nebber tink Mass' George such coward."
"I'm n
ot, sir. Why?"
"Cut great big 'tick like dat to beat poor lil nigger like Pomp."
"Lil nigger like Pomp!" I cried, mockingly; "why, you're as big as Iam. Get up, you great tar-coloured stupid."
"No, no, Mass' George; hit um lyem down, please; not hurt so much."
"Get up!" I shouted; and I poked him in the ribs with the end of thepole.
"Ow! Ow!" yelled Pomp at every touch, and the more he shouted the moreI laughed and stirred him up, till he suddenly sat up, drew his knees tohis chest, put his arms round them, and wrinkling his forehead intolines, he looked up at me pitifully.
"Arn't done nuff yet, Mass' George?" he whimpered.
"Enough?" I cried. "Did you think I cut this great pole to whop you?"
"Yes, Mass' George."
"Why, it was to carry the head on, one at each end."
"Oh!" cried Pomp, jumping up as if made of springs, and showing histeeth; "I knew dat a hall de time."
"You wicked young story-teller," I cried, raising the pole quarter-stafffashion, and making an offer at him, when Pomp dropped on his kneesagain, and raised his hands for mercy.
"Ah, you deserve it," I said; "telling a fib like that."
"Was dat a fib, Mass' George?"
"Yes; you didn't know it all the time."
"No, Mass' George; not till you tell um. I tought you cut de big 'tickto whop poor nigger all black and blue."
"Why, how could I?" and I roared with laughter as I looked at his shiny,ebony skin.
"Dunno, Mass' George. Hit berry hard, make um bruisum all ober de body,same as you say when you tumble down--you say make um all black andblue."
"There, come along," I said; "let's get the thing home. Phew! Look atthe flies already."
"Whish--whoosh--whoosh!" cried Pomp, breaking off a bough and sweepingit round. "Nebber mind, Mass' George; fly keep on eat lit bit all deway home; not hab so much a carry."
"But how are we to manage? Here, you must find some tough cane to laythe head on."
"I know now," cried Pomp, taking the pole.
"What are you going to do?" I said.
"Put um down um troat. So."
As he spoke, he ran the pole through the open jaws and out at the neck,so that the head was safely swinging in the middle.
"Dah," he said, "now you carry dat end, I carry dis end. Dat end nicean' tin for Mass' George."
"Why, you cunning young rascal," I said, "you want me to carry the dirtywet end, do you?"
Pomp grinned, and broke off some thick leaves to carefully clean thesullied end, chuckling merrily the while.
"Um was horrid nassy, Mass' George," he said. "Now all right."
I took up and shouldered the gun, and then seizing one end of the pole,we marched triumphantly back with our grisly trophy, accompanied byquite a cloud of flies which kept up a tremendous humming noise.
I went first, and easily found the spot where the ammunition had beenset down by Pomp in his excitement; and after he had thrown thepouch-straps over his shoulder and I had decided not to load again, aswe were going straight home, we prepared for a fresh start.
"Mass' George like to come dis end?" said Pomp.
"No," I said; "I'll go first;" and we went on till Pomp began to gruntand shudder.
"What's the matter?" I said, looking back.
"Poor Pomp get all de 'mell ob de head dis end."
"All right," I said; "it won't hurt you."
"But um do 'tink horrid, Mass' George."
"We'll carry it the other way, side by side, as soon as we get out ofthe trees," I said; and we went on a little further, when the boyuttered a shout.
"What's the matter now?" I said.
"De fly, Mass' George."
"Never mind the flies," I said; "they will not hurt you."
"But dey do, Mass' George. Dey keep tink Pomp am de head, and sit on umand bite lil bit out ob um arm and neck. Poor nigger hardly got a bitob clothes on."
"And a good job too, Pomp," I cried. "I wish I hadn't. Phew! It ishot!"
After divers changes about, in which I got my fair share of thenuisance, we reached the house, to find my father at home; and he,Morgan, and Hannibal came on to meet our triumphant procession.
"Bravo, George!" said my father; "why, that's quite a patriarch. Howdid you manage to kill him?"
"Mass' George shoot um, and Pomp cut um head off," cried the boy,proudly.
"Yes," I said; "Pomp found him asleep, and fetched me. Morgan, I wantit on that stump."
"No, no, sir," said Morgan. "I'll get the hammer and a big spike-nail,and drive it through the back of the skin into that big tree at thebottom."
"Capital!" I cried.
"But it will be a nuisance," said my father.
"Oh no, sir. It's full in the hot sun, and the flies will clean it.Before a week's out it will be dry."
Hannibal fetched the short ladder, and held the head, while Morgan drovein the nail so that the great head with its propped open jaws hung theregrinning at the bottom of the garden; the skin soon shrinking away sothat the head hung as it were by a skin loop; and before a month waspast it was perfectly inoffensive, and had preserved in drying itsnatural appearance in a wonderful way.