But, failing that one, any one would do.

Hence Kwaque was selected for the blood-atonement.
Dag Daughtry drank a seventh quart as he listened, so carried away was he by the sombre sense of romance of this dark jungle event wherein men killed even strangers because a pig was dead.
Scouts out on the runways, Kwaque continued, brought word of the coming of the two bereaved pig-owners, and the village had fled into the jungle and climbed trees--all except Kwaque, who was unable to climb trees.
"My word," Kwaque concluded, "me no make 'm that fella pig sick." "My word," quoth Dag Daughtry, "you devil-devil along that fella pig too much.

You look 'm like hell.

You make 'm any fella thing sick look along you.

You make 'm me sick too much." It became quite a custom for the steward, as he finished his sixth bottle before turning in, to call upon Kwaque for his story.