hoots '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. I can only
think that He doesn't want to dirty His hand by strikin' yer down."

Oscard had taken his pipe from his lips. He looked bigger, somehow, than
ever. His brown face was turning to an ashen colour, and there was a
dull, steel-like gleam in his blue eyes. The terrible, slow-kindling
anger of this Northerner made Durnovo catch his breath. It was so
different from the sudden passion of his own countrymen.

"Is this true?" he asked.

"It's a lie, of course," answered Durnovo, with a shrug of the
shoulders. He moved away as if he were going to his tent, but Oscard's
arm reached out. His large brown hand fell heavily on the half-breed's
shoulder.

"Stay," he said; "we are going to get to the bottom of this."

"Good," muttered Joseph, rubbing his hands slowly together; "this is
prime."

"Go on," said Oscard to him.

"Where's the wages you and Mr. Meredith has paid him for those forty
men?" pursued Joseph. "Where's the advance you made him for those men at
Msala? Not one ha'penny of it have they fingered. And why? Cos they're
slaves! Fifteen months at fifty pounds--let them as can reckon tot it up
for theirselves. That's his first swindle--and there's others, sir! Oh,
there's more behind. That man's just a stinkin' hotbed o' crime. But
this 'ere slave-owning is enough to settle his hash, I take it."

"Let us have these men here--we will hear what they have to say," said
Oscard in the same dull tone that frightened Victor Durnovo.

"Not you!" he went on, laying his hand on Durnovo's shoulder again;
"Joseph will fetch them, thank you."

So the forty--or the