appeared at his elbow.

"I is."

"Isn't this jolly?" continued Harold.

"No, sir, 'taint."

"Why, what d'you mean?"

"I means that jolly ain't the word, by a long way, for to express the
natur' o' my feelin's. There ain't no word as I knows on as 'ud come up
to it. If I wor a fylosipher, now, I'd coin a word for the occasion.
P'raps," continued Disco, drawing an unusually long whiff from his pipe,
"p'raps, not bein' a fylosipher, I might nevertheless try to coin one.
Wot's the Latin, now, for heaven?"

"Caelum," replied Harold.

"Sailum, eh? An' wot's the 'arth?"

"Terra."

"Terra? well now, wot rediklous names to give to 'em," said Disco,
shaking his head gravely, "I can't see why the ancients couldn't ha' bin
satisfied with the names that _we'd_ given 'em. Hows'ever, that's
neither here nor there. My notion o' the state o' things that we've got
into here, as they now stand, is, that they are sailumterracious, which
means heaven-upon-earth, d'ee see?"

As Disco pronounced the word with a powerful emphasis on the _u-m_ part
of it the sound was rather effective, and seemed to please him.

"Right; you're right, or nearly so," replied Harold; "but don't you
think the word savours too much of perfection, seeing that breakfast
would add to the pleasure of the present delightful state of things, and
make them even more sailumterracious than they are?"

"No, sir, no; the word ain't too parfect," replied Disco, with a look of
critical severity; "part of it is 'arth, and 'arth is imparfect, bein'
susceptible of a many improvements, among which undoubtedly is
breakfast, likewise dinner an' supper, to say nothin' of lunch an' tea,
which is suitable only for babbies an' wimen; so I agrees with you, sir,
that the state o' things will be sailumterraciouser if we goes ashore
an' has breakfast."

He tapped the head of his very black little pipe on the edge of the
canoe, and heaved a sigh of contentment as he watched the ash-ball that
floated away on the stream; then, rousing himself, he seized the
steering-oar and followed Harold into a small creek, which was
pleasantly overshadowed by the rich tropical foliage of that region.

While breakfast was being prepared by Antonio, whose talents as
_chef-de-cuisine_ were of the highest order, Harold took his rifle and
rambled into the bush in search of game--any kind of game, for at that
time he had had no experience whatever of the sport afforded by the
woods of tropic