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Crozet moralizes on the malignant and unprovoked treachery of these savages. He pours out his contempt on the Parisian philosophes who idealized primitive man and natural virtue. For his part he would rather meet a lion or a tiger, for then he would know what to do! But there is another side to the story. The memory of the Wi-Wi, "the bloody tribe of Marion," lingered long in the Bay of Islands.
"Maybe it wasn't poison after all," said Harriwell, dismally. "Call in the cook," said Brown. In came the cook, a grinning black boy, nose-spiked and ear-plugged. "Here, you, Wi-wi, what name that?" Harriwell bellowed, pointing accusingly at the omelet. Wi-wi was very naturally frightened and embarrassed. "Him good fella kai-kai," he murmured apologetically. "Make him eat it," suggested McTavish.
"Maybe it wasn't poison after all," said Harriwell, dismally. "Call in the cook," said Brown. In came the cook, a grinning black boy, nose-spiked and ear-plugged. "Here, you, Wi-wi, what name that?" Harriwell bellowed, pointing accusingly at the omelet. Wi-wi was very naturally frightened and embarrassed. "Him good fella kai-kai," he murmured apologetically. "Make him eat it," suggested McTavish.
A smart burly man, with acute features, stepped on the footboard of the carriage, and, moving with the train, asked what sort of rug it was. "Eh! a b-b-blue one, wi-wi " "With," interrupted the man, "black outside and noo straps?" "Ye-ye-yes yes!" "All right, sir, you shall have it at the next station," said the acute-faced man, stepping on the platform and allowing the train to pass.
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