was apparently intensely humorous. They burst into loud guffaws,
supplemented with resounding slaps of their cupped hands on their
stomachs, at the same time raising an imitative cry of "Sink-ka!
Sink-ka!"

This was our welcome to the Filbert Islands, and also the beginning
of the formation of that new tongue, Filbertese or nut-talk, which in
the ensuing months was to mean so much to our small but absolutely
intrepid band.




CHAPTER III

Our handsome hosts. En route to the interior. Native flora and fauna. We
arrive at the capitol. A lecture on Filbertine architecture. A strange
taboo. The serenade.


With the first burst of laughter it seemed that all embarrassment on
the part of the natives had been dissipated. Those nearest us insisted
on patting our stomachs gently, at the same time uttering a soft,
crooning "soo-soo," [Footnote: This same sound is used by the natives
of Sugar Hill, New Hampshire, when calming their horses.] which it was
obviously the proper thing to return, which we did to the delight of
the bronze warriors about us.

After a few moments of this friendly massage, the most ornamental of
the savages, whom I judged to be the chief, uttered dissyllabic command