MARTIN RATTLER. 187

but beyond these there were few of the sights and
sounds that were wont to greet them in the forest.

“T think things look well to-night,’ remarked
Martin, as he threw down a bundle of sticks which
he had gathered for the fire; “we shall have a com-
fortable snooze for certain, if the mosquitoes don’t
wake up.” .

“T’m not so sure of that,” remarked Barney, strik-
ing a light with flint and steel, and stooping to puff
the smouldering spark into a flame. “Ive larned by
exparience that ye niver can be”—puff—“sure 0’
nothin’ in this”—puff—“remarkable country. Jist
look at Darkey now,” continued the Irishman, sitting
down on a stone before the fire, which now began to
kindle up, and stuffing the tobacco into his pipe with
his little finger. “There he is, a livin’ Naygur,
aliftin’ of the provision-bag out o’ the canoe. Well,
if he was all of a suddent to turn into Marmoset an’
swaller himself, an’ then jump down the throat of
“Grampus, and the whole consarn, canoe and all, to
disappear, I don’t think that I would be much sur-
prised.”

“Would you not, Barney? I suspect that I should
be a little, under the circumstances; perhaps the old
Nigger would be more so.”

“Niver a taste,’ continued Barney. “Ye: see, if