He talks loud, laughs incessantly, croons a monotonous chant, which
sounds almost as heathenish as tom-toms, throws himself out of his
saddle, hanging on by one foot, lingers behind to gather fruits, and
then comes tearing up, beating his horse over the ears and nose,
with a fearful yell and a prolonged sound like har-r-r-ouche,
striking my mule and threatening to overturn me as he passes me on
the narrow track. He is the most thoroughly careless and
irresponsible being I ever saw, reckless about the horses, reckless
about himself, without any manners or any obvious sense of right and
propriety. In his mouth this musical tongue becomes as harsh as the
speech of a cocatoo or parrot. His manner is familiar. He rides up
to me, pokes his head under my hat, and says, interrogatively,
"Cold!" by which I understand that the poor boy is shivering
himself. In eating he plunges his hand into my bowl of fowl, or
snatches half my biscuit. Yet I daresay he means well, and I am
thoroughly amused with him, except when he maltreats his horse.
It is a very strange life going about with natives, whose ideas, as
shown by their habits, are, to say the least of it, very peculiar.
Deborah speaks English fairly, having been brought up by white
people, and is a very nice girl.
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