The young white woman, notwithstanding the length to which she would go in the satisfaction of her greed and avarice, was a kind and indulgent mistress. The kindnesses she had shown this ignorant little black boy were presently to return her dividends far beyond her investment.
Luvini had been to her upon a certain afternoon to advise her that all was ready, and that the revolt of the slaves and the murder of the Arabs should take place that evening, immediately after dark. The cupidity of the whites had long been aroused by the store of ivory possessed by the raiders, with the result that all were more than eager for the final step in the conspiracy that would put them in possession of considerable wealth.
It was just before the evening meal that the little negro boy crept into Flora Hawkes’s tent. He was very wide-eyed, and terribly frightened.
“What is the matter?” she demanded.
“S-sh!” he cautioned. “Do not let them hear you speak to me, but put your ear close to me while I tell you in a low voice what Luvini is planning.”
The girl bent her head close to the lips of the little black. “You have been kind to me,” he whispered, “and now that Luvini would harm you I have come to tell you.”
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Flora, in a low voice.
“I mean that Luvini, after the Arabs are killed, has given orders that the black boys kill all the white men and take you prisoner. He intends to either keep you for himself or to sell you in the north for a great sum of money.”
“But how do you know all this?” demanded the girl.
“All the blacks in camp know it,” replied the boy. “I was to have stolen your rifle and your pistol, as each of the boys will steal the weapons of his white master.”