The antennae are--"
"Dey ain't NO tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a tellin' on you,"
here interrupted Jupiter; "de bug is a goole-bug, solid, ebery bit
of him, inside and all, sep him wing--neber feel half so hebby a
bug in my life."
"Well, suppose it is, Jup," replied Legrand, somewhat more
earnestly, it seemed to me, than the case demanded; "is that any
reason for your letting the birds burn? The color"--here he turned
to me--"is really almost enough to warrant Jupiter's idea. You
never saw a more brilliant metallic luster than the scales emit--
but of this you cannot judge till to-morrow. In the meantime I can
give you some idea of the shape." Saying this, he seated himself
at a small table, on which were a pen and ink, but no paper. He
looked for some in a drawer, but found none.
"Never mind," he said at length, "this will answer;" and he drew
from his waistcoat pocket a scrap of what I took to be very dirty
foolscap, and made upon it a rough drawing with the pen. While he
did this, I retained my seat by the fire, for I was still chilly.
When the design was complete, he handed it to me without rising.
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