Imgani, in his hunting trips, saw things which might have filled him with amazement, but for the fact that he was a man who was not given to emotion.
He saw little caravans that came stealing from the direction of the territory of France, with whimpering women and groaning men in bondage.
He saw curious midnight shippings of human souls, and grew to know the white-robed Arabs who handled the whip so deftly.
One night as he stood watching all these things, El Mahmud, that famous trader, espied him in the moonlight and saw that he was of a strange people.
"What man are you?" he asked.
"Lord," said Imgani, "I am of a strange people—the N'Gombi."
"That is a lie," said the slaver, "for you have not the face marks of the N'Gombi; you are a half-bred Arab," and he addressed him in Arabic.
Imgani shook his head.
"He does not understand," said the slaver to his lieutenant; "find out where this man's hut is; one night we will take him, for he is worth money."
He spoke in Arabic, and his subordinate nodded.