"you gettee in," he added, motioning to me with his tomahawk, and throwing the clothes to one side. he really did this in not only a civil but a really kind and charitable way. i stood looking at him a moment. for all his tattooings he was on the whole a clean, comely looking cannibal. what’s all this fuss i have been making about, thought i to myself—the man’s a human being just as i am: he has just as much reason to fear me, as i have to be afraid of him. better sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken christian.