Hanged! why it's agin all laws o' justice, moral an' otherwise, it is.

But I'm dreamin'; yes, it's dreamin' I am; but I don't think I ever did dream that I thought I was dreamin' an' yet wasn't quite sure.

Really, it's perplexin', to say the least on it.
Ain't it, Toozle ?" Toozle wagged his tail.
"Ah, here comes my imaginary jailer to let me out o' this here abominably real-lookin' imaginary lockup.

Hang Jo Bumpus!--why, it's--" Before Jo could find words sufficiently strong to express his opinion of such a murderous intention, the door opened, and a surly-looking man--a European settler--entered with his breakfast.

This meal consisted of a baked breadfruit and a can of water.
"Ha! you've come to let me out, have you ?" cried Jo, in a tone of forced pleasantry, which was anything but cheerful.
"Have I though!" said the man, setting down the food on a small deal table that stood at the head of the bedstead; "don't think it, my man; your time's up in another two hours.