THE HAUNTS OF THE PARROT. I I J 



but that was a name too long and savoring too much 

 of English for these idle aborigines, and he was at 

 once and forever rechristened. 



" Meyong ! " 



"Out, monsieur.'" 



You must pardon Meyong for frequent lapses into 

 French, and for saying, "Ou?\ monsieur" instead of 

 " Yes, sir." The fact is, he has no language he can 

 call his own. Though born a Carib, he never heard 

 the Carib tongue, save from some very old woman or 

 warriors. He was born under English rule, but never 

 learned the English language. His parents spoke a 

 degenerate French, but never owed allegiance to the 

 French government. Meyong, then, speaks a patois, 

 or dialect of his own, derived from the French, who 

 once owned this island. His speech is abominable 

 alike to cultivated Frenchman and Englishman. 



"Are you ready, Meyong?" 



"Out, monsieur" 



" And Coryet ? " Coryet is his inseparable com- 

 panion, with whom he roves sea and forest. 



"Coryet come long time, m'sieur ; he come ebrv- 

 ting." ' 



"Very well ; then bring me my coffee." 



While he was preparing my coffee I drew on my 

 boots and hastened to the river to bathe. Darkness 

 still covered everything, but the low, uneasy twitter- 

 ing of birds gave token of the near approach of dawn. 

 Crickets and locusts and all the nocturnal insects had 

 hushed their chirpings, and all the valley was wrapped 

 in the silence that preceded the break of day. 



Each of my young hunters had a large pannier 

 strapped to his shoulders, like a knapsack made of 

 8 



