I wonder if you
have ever heard of a little rhyme which apparently attributes to the
bird in question, when residing in the level pastures of Timbuctoo, an
unholy lust for the body and appurtenances thereto of an unnamed
clerical gentleman?
OLIVER and JILL (shouting together). Yes! Rather!
MISSIONARY. Dear, dear! Fortunately--I say fortunately--this is not
Timbuctoo! (OLIVER slips away and comes back with a notice-board
"Timbuctoo," which he places at the edge of the trees, unseen by the
MISSIONARY, who goes on talking to JILL) I take it that a cassowary
residing in other latitudes is of a more temperate habit. His
appetite, I venture to suggest, dear lady, would be under better
restraint. That being so, I may perhaps safely---- (He begins to move
off, and comes suddenly up to the notice-board) Dear, dear, dear,
dear, dear! This is terrible! You said, I think, that the--ah--bird in
question was moving in _this_ direction?
OLIVER. That's right.
MISSIONARY. Then I shall move, hastily yet with all due precaution, in
_that_ direction. (He walks off on tiptoe, looking over his shoulder
in case the cassowary should reappear. Consequently, he does not
observe the enormous CANNIBAL who has appeared from the trees on the
right, until he bumps into him) I beg your---- (He looks up) Dear,
dear, dear, dear, dear!
CANNIBAL.
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