war, and just escaped from it with a sticking-plaster shirt. still more, his very legs were marked, as if a parcel of dark green frogs were running up the trunks of young palms. it was now quite plain that he must be some abominable savage or other shipped aboard of a whaleman in the south seas, and so landed in this christian country. i quaked to think of it. a peddler of heads too—perhaps the heads of his own brothers. he might take a fancy to mine—heavens! look at that tomahawk!