Manchurian Books

George went aside for a
space and walked up and down the deck or sent below for Jarvo. Once,
as Jarvo left St. George's side, Little Cawthorne awoke and sat
upright and inquiring, in his hammock.
"What _is_ the matter with his feet?" he inquired peevishly. "I
shall certainly ask him directly."
"It's the seventh day out," Amory observed, "and still nobody
knows."
For Jarvo and Akko had another distinction besides their diminutive
stature and greyhound build. Their feet, clad in soft soleless
shoes, made of skins, were long and pointed and of almost uncanny
flexibility. It had become impossible for any one to look at either
of the little men without letting his eyes wander to their curiously
expressive feet, which, like "courtier speech," were expressive
without revealing anything.
"I t'ink," Bennietod gave out, "dat dey're lost Eyetalian
organ-grinder monkeys, wid huming intelligence, like Bertran's
Bimi."
"What a suspicious child it is," yawned Little Cawthorne, and went
to sleep again.


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