BUNCO BECOMES A FRIEND IN NEED AND INDEED, AND LARRY "COMES TO GRIEF" IN
A SMALL WAY.
"Sure yer face is a sight for sore eyes, though it _is_ black and ugly,"
exclaimed Larry, as he wrung the hand of the good-humoured native, who
grinned from ear to ear with delight at having found his friends.
"Wot ever brought ye here?" inquired Muggins.
"Mine legses," replied Bunco, with a twinkle in his coal-black eyes.
"Yer legses, eh?" repeated Muggins in a tone of sarcasm--"so I supposes,
for it's on them that a man usually goeses; but what caused you for to
desart the ship?"
"'Cause I no want for be pyrit more nor yourself, Mister Muggles--"
"Muggins, you lump of ebony--don't miscall me."
"Well, dat be all same--only a litil bit more ogly," retorted Bunco,
with a grin, "an' me no want to lose sight ob Doctor Os'n here: me come
for to show him how to go troo de forest."
"That's right, my good fellow," cried Will, with a laugh, slapping the
native on the shoulder; "you have just come in the nick of time to take
care of us all, for, besides having utterly lost ourselves, we are quite
ignorant of forest ways in this region--no better than children, in
fact."
"True for ye, boy, riglar babes in the wood, as I said before," added
Larry O'Hale.
"Well, that being the case," continued Will, "you had better take
command at once, Bunco, and show us how to encamp, for we have finished
our pipes and a very light supper, and would fain go to sleep. It's a
pity you did not arrive sooner, my poor fellow, for we have not a scrap
of food left for you, and your gun will be of no use till daylight."
To this Bunco replied by displaying his teeth and giving vent to a low
chuckle, while he lifted the flap of his pea-jacket and exhibited three
fat birds hanging at the belt with which he supported his nether
garments.
"Hooray!" shouted Larry, seizing one of the birds and beginning to pluck
it; "good luck to your black mug, we'll ait it right off."
"That's your sort," cried Muggins, whose mouth watered at the thought of
such a delightful addition to his poor supper. "Hand me one of 'em,
Larry, and I'll pluck it."
Larry obeyed; Old Peter seized and operated on the last bird, and Bunco
raked the embers of the fire together, while Will Osten looked on and
laughed. In a very few minutes the three birds were plucked and
cleaned, and Larry, in virtue of his office, was going to cook them,
when Will suggested that he had better resign in favour of Bunco, who
was doubtless better acquainted than himself with the best modes of
forest cookery. To this Larry objected a little at first, but he was
finally prevailed on to give in, and Bunco went to work in his own
fashion. It was simple enough. First he cut three short sticks and
pointed them at each end, then he split each bird open, and laying it
flat, thrust a stick through it, and stuck it up before the glowing fire
to roast. When one side was pretty well done he turned the other, and,
while that was cooking, cut off a few scraps from the half-roasted side
and tried them.
We need scarcely add that none of the party were particular. The birds
were disposed of in an incredibly short time, and then the pipes were
refilled for a second smoke.
"How comes it," inquired Will, when this process was going on, "that you
managed to escape and to bring a gun away with you? We would not have
left the ship without you, but our own escape was a sudden affair; we
scarcely expected to accomplish it at the time we did. I suppose you
had a sharp run for it?"
"Run! ductor, no, me no run--me walk away quite comfrabil an' tooked
what me please; see here."
As he spoke, Bunco opened a small canvas bag which no one had taken
notice of up to that moment, and took from it a large quantity of broken
biscuit, a lump of salt beef, several cocoa-nuts, a horn of gunpowder,
and a bag of shot and ball--all of which he spread out in front of the
fire with much ostentation. The satisfaction caused by this was very
great, and even Muggins, in the fulness of his heart, declared that
after all there were worse things than being lost in a forest.
"Well, and how did you manage to get away?" said Will, returning to the
original question.
"Git away? why, dis here wos de way. When me did see the rincumcoshindy
goin' on ashore, me say, `Now, Bunco, you time come; look alive;' so,
w'en de raskil called de fuss mate orders out de boat in great hurry, me
slip into it like one fish. Then dey all land an' go off like mad into
de woods arter you--as you do knows. Ob coorse me stop to look arter de
boat; you knows it would be very bad to go an' leave de boat all by its
lone, so w'en deys gone into de woods, me take the mate's gun and
poodair an' shot an' ebbery ting could carry off--all de grub, too, but
der worn't too moche of dat--and walk away in anoder d'rection. Me is
used to de woods, you sees, so kep' clear o' de stoopid seamans, who
soon tires der legses, as me knows bery well; den come round in dis
d'rection; find you tracks; foller im up; shoots tree birds; sees a
tiger; puts a ball in him skin, an' sends him to bed wid a sore head--
too dark for kill him--arter which me find you out, an' here me is.
Dere. Dat's all about it."
"A most satisfactory account of yourself," said Will Osten.
"An' purtily towld," observed Larry; "where did ye larn English, boy,
for ye have the brogue parfict, as me gran'mother used to say to the pig
when she got in her dotage (me gran'mother, not the pig), `only,' says
she, `the words isn't quite distinc'.' Couldn't ye give us a skitch o'
yer life, Bunco?"
Thus appealed to, the gratified native began without hesitation, and
gave the following account of himself:--
"Me dun know when me was born--"
"Faix, it wasn't yesterday," said Larry, interrupting.
"No, nor de day before to-morrow nother," retorted Bunco; "but it was in
Callyforny, anyhow. Me fadder him wos a Injin--"
"Oh! come!" interrupted Muggins in a remonstrative tone.
"Yis, him _wos_ a Injin," repeated Bunco stoutly.
"Wos he a _steam-ingine_?" inquired Muggins with a slight touch of
sarcasm.
"He means an Indian, Muggins," explained Will.
"Then why don't he say wot he means? However, go ahead, Ebony."
"Hims wos a Injin," resumed Bunco, "ant me moder him wos a Spanish
half-breed from dis yer country--Peru. Me live for years in de forests
an' plains an' mountains ob Callyforny huntin' an fightin'. Oh, dem
were de happy days! After dat me find a wife what I lub berry moche,
den me leave her for short time an' go wid tradin' party to de coast.
Here meet wid a cap'n of ship, wot wos a big raskil. Him 'tice me
aboord an' sail away. Short ob hands him wos, so him took me, an' me
never see me wife no more!"
There was something quite touching in the tone in which the poor fellow
said this, insomuch that Larry became sympathetic and abused the captain
who had kidnapped him in no measured terms. Had Larry known that acts
similar to this wicked and heartless one were perpetrated by traders in
the South Seas very frequently, he would have made his terms of abuse
more general!
"How long ago was that?" inquired Old Peter.
"Tree year," sighed Bunco. "Since dat day I hab bin in two tree ships,
but nebber run away, cause why? wot's de use ob run away on _island_?
Only now me got on Sout 'Meriky, which me know is not far from Nord
'Meriky, an' me bin here before wid me moder, so kin show you how to
go--and speak Spanish too--me moder speak dat, you sees; but mesilf larn
English aboord two tree ships, an', so, speak him fust rate now."
"So ye do, boy," said Larry, whose sympathetic heart was drawn towards
the unfortunate and ill-used native; "an', faix, we'll go on travellin'
through this forest till we comes to Callyforny an' finds your missus--
so cheer up, Bunco, and let us see how we're to go to roost, for it
seems that we must slaip on a tree this night."
During the course of the conversation which we have just detailed, the
wild denizens of the forest had been increasing their dismal cries, and
the seamen, unused to such sounds, had been kept in a state of nervous
anxiety which each did his utmost to conceal. They were all brave men;
but it requires a very peculiar kind of bravery to enable a man to sit
and listen with cool indifference to sounds which he does not
understand, issuing from gloomy recesses at his back, where there are
acknowledged, though unknown, dangers close at hand. Bunco, therefore,
grinning good-humouredly as usual, rose and selected a gigantic tree as
their dormitory.
The trunk of this tree spread out, a few feet above its base, into
several branches, any one of which would have been deemed a large tree
in England, and these branches were again subdivided into smaller stems
with a network of foliage, which rendered it quite possible for a man to
move about upon them with facility, and to find a convenient couch.
Here,--the fire at the foot of the tree having been replenished,--each
man sought and found repose.
It was observed that Larry O'Hale made a large soft couch below the tree
on the ground.
"You're not going to sleep there, Larry?" said Will Osten, on observing
what he was about. "Why, the tigers will be picking your bones before
morning if you do."
"Och! I'm not afraid of 'em," replied Larry; "howsever, I _do_ main to
slaip up the tree _if I can_."
That night, some time after all the party had been buried in profound
repose, they were awakened by a crash and a tremendous howl just below
them. Each started up, and, pushing aside the leaves, gazed anxiously
down. A dark object was seen moving below, and Bunco was just going to
point his gun at it, when a gruff voice was heard to say--
"Arrah! didn't I know it? It's famous I've bin, since I was a mere boy,
for rowlin' about in me slaip, an', sure, the branch of a tree is only
fit for a bird after all. But, good luck to yer wisdom an' foresight,
Larry O'Hale, for ye've come down soft, anyhow, an' if there's
anything'll cure ye o' this bad habit--slaipin' on trees'll do it in the
coorse o' time, I make no doubt wotiver!"