Explore "A Master of Fortune" by Cutcliffe Hyne on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Captain Kettle dived two fingers into the bowl of odorous, orange-colored palm-oil chop, and fished out a joint suspiciously like a nigger baby's arm. He knew it was a monkey's; or at least he was nearly certain it was a monkey's; but he ate no more from that particular bowl. The tribe he was with were not above suspicion of cannibalism, and though their hospitality was lavish, it was by no means guaranteed as to quality.
The head-man noticed his action, and put a smiling question: "You no like dem climb-climb chop? Tooth him plenty sore?"