There hung, head downwards,
from a branch, a Kafir boy, who was, in fact, the brother of the stately
Ucatella, only went further into antiquity for his models of deportment;
for, as she imitated the antique marbles, he reproduced the habits of
that epoch when man roosted, and was arboreal. Wheel somersaults, and,
above all, swinging head downwards from a branch, were the sweeteners of
his existence.
"Oh! YOU are there, are you?" said Dick.
"Iss," said Ucatella. "Tim good boy. Tim found my child."
"Well," said Dick, "he has chosen a nice place. This is the clump the
last lion came out of, at least they say so. For my part, I never saw
an African lion; Falcon says they've all took ship, and gone to England.
However, I shall stay here with my rifle till daybreak. 'Tis tempting
Providence to lie down on the skirt of a wood for Lord knows what to
jump out on ye unawares."
Tim was sent home for Hottentots, and Christopher was carried home,
still sleeping, and laid on his own bed.
He slept twenty-four hours more, and, when he was fairly awake, a sort
of mist seemed to clear away in places, and he remembered things at
random. He remembered being at sea on the raft with the dead body;
that picture was quite vivid to him.
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