To which the stranger, who did not at all relish the idea of being dragged into a conversation with a strange youth, replied, “Yes, it is,” slightly stammering as he said it.
A pause,—then the boy, “I beg your pardon, but is there some beast in it?”
The man, annoyed, “Ye—es, there’s a m—mongoose in it.”
The boy had no idea what a mongoose was, but he had the curiosity of youth and was unabashed, so he said, “May I ask what the mongoose is for?”
The man, decidedly irritated, and wishing to silence his companion, “G—got a f—friend that sees snakes, t—taking the m—mongoose to catch ’em.”
The boy concluded the stranger was mad, and wishing to pacify him, said—
“Yes, but the snakes are not really there, are they?”
The man, “No, n—neither is the m—mongoose.”
Now as to my experience. Some years ago I was in Calcutta, and, walking in the street one day, I was accosted by a man carrying a bag and leading a mongoose by a string. He said, “I Madras man, master want to see plenty trick, I very good conjurer,” and he produced a sheaf of more or less grimy credentials, in which it was stated, by a number of reputable people, that he was a conjurer of unusual skill. When I had looked at some of the papers, he said, “I come master’s house, do trick, this very clever mongoose, I bring him show master.”