We said:

"Don't do that, Jack. What do you want to harm him for? What has he

done?"

"Well, then, I won't kill him, but I ought to, because he is a fraud."

We asked him why, but he said it was no matter. We asked him why, once

or twice, as we walked back to the camp but he still said it was no

matter. But late at night, when he was sitting in a thoughtful mood on

the bed, we asked him again and he said:

Well, it don't matter; I don't mind it now, but I did not like it today,

you know, because I don't tell any thing that isn't so, and I don't think

the Colonel ought to, either. But he did; he told us at prayers in the

Pilgrims' tent, last night, and he seemed as if he was reading it out of

the Bible, too, about this country flowing with milk and honey, and about

the voice of the turtle being heard in the land. I thought that was

drawing it a little strong, about the turtles, any how, but I asked Mr.

Church if it was so, and he said it was, and what Mr. Church tells me, I

believe. But I sat there and watched that turtle nearly an hour today,

and I almost burned up in the sun; but I never heard him sing. I believe

I sweated a double handful of sweat---I know I did--because it got in my

eyes, and it was running down over my nose all the time; and you know my

pants are tighter than any body else's--Paris foolishness--and the

buckskin seat of them got wet with sweat, and then got dry again and

555

The Innocents Abroad