He had hardly any
clothes, and his body all over was a dark and beautiful coppery
colour--just like the chrysanthemums father had brought home on
Saturday. In his hand he held a spear. The whites of his eyes and
the white of his teeth were the only light things about him, except
that where the sun shone on his shiny brown body it looked white,
too. If you will look carefully at the next shiny savage you meet
with next to nothing on, you will see at once--if the sun happens
to be shining at the time--that I am right about this.
The savage looked at the children. Concealment was impossible. He
uttered a shout that was more like 'Oo goggery bag-wag' than
anything else the children had ever heard, and at once brown
coppery people leapt out of every hut, and swarmed like ants about
the clearing. There was no time for discussion, and no one wanted
to discuss anything, anyhow. Whether these coppery people were
cannibals or not now seemed to matter very little.
Without an instant's hesitation the four children turned and ran
back along the forest path; the only pause was Anthea's. She stood
back to let Cyril pass, because he was carrying the Lamb, who
screamed with delight. (He had not whooping-coughed a single once
since the carpet landed him on the island.
Pages:
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82