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Updated: May 4, 2025
I temporized with another question. He seemed to be troubled, glancing toward the thoughtful professor as if expecting him to speak, and when this was not forthcoming he asked again: "Well, friend gezabo, what do you think?" The little scientist lowered his pipe, sighed and impressively answered: "It is not given to all men to see this invisible agency at work."
"If you ever doctored me, gezabo, and I happened to recover, darned if I wouldn't turn around and die out of pity for you! Come here, Smilax, I want to ask some questions!" The result of Tommy's probing showed that late the previous afternoon, while this negro was fishing sponges, the Orchid deliberately ran him down.
"But," Monsieur looked at him reprovingly, "Aphrodite is not goddess of the wind!" "Who said she was?" he innocently asked. "You conjure her for the gale bah!" "That's because she rhymes with nighty, gezabo! When my Muse sings, to hell with mythology! Come join the clouds you're sordid!" "These have been sordid clouds," the little fellow laughed.
I challenge you, isn't she perfect?" "That is a perilous assertion," Monsieur chuckled, "since there is a Persian proverb that 'to be perfect is to be damned." "Well, she'd rather be damned than ugly, if I know anything about girls and I do!" Tommy declared. "Isn't that right, gezabo?" "Isn't what right? That you know so much about girls? Bah! It is a young rooster's foolish talk!
Monsieur's face grew more composed as he showed his interest in a new word. "You say gazebo?" he asked, blandly. "Is that not a belvedere?" "Gazebo is, yes; but I said gezabo that's you!" "Your American Indian language?" "Sure thing. Pure talk. If you're interested in Indians, stick around. Why not get the Havana police to help us hunt the kiddie?"
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