"And the man hadn't done 'im no harm at all. He's got a grudge
against him. I've seen that this last week and more. It's a man as
was kinder fond o' me, and we understood each other's lingo. That's
it--he was afraid of my 'earing things that mightn't be wholesome
for me to know. The man hadn't done no harm. And Durnovo comes up
and begins abusing 'im, and then he strikes 'im, and then he out
with his revolver and shoots 'im down."
Durnovo gave an ugly laugh. He had readjusted his disordered dress
and was brushing the dirt from his knees.
"Oh, don't make a fool of yourself," he said in a hissing voice;
"you don't understand these natives at all. The man raised his hand
to me. He would have killed me if he had had the chance. Shooting
was the only thing left to do. You can only hold these men by fear.
They expect it."
"Of course they expect it," shouted Joseph in his face; "of course
they expect it, Mr. Durnovo."
"Why?"
"Because they're SLAVES. Think I don't know that?"
He turned to Oscard.
"This man, Mr. Oscard," he said, "is a slave-owner. Them forty that
joined at Msala was slaves. He's shot two of 'em now; this is his
second. And what does he care?--they're his slaves. Oh! shame on
yer!" turning again to Durnovo; "I wonder God lets yer stand there.
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