"They always are, and one never does," said Bob lightly. "I don't see that it matters. Are you in a funk about them?"
The cool question brought crimson to Eustace's cheeks.
"No," he said sturdily, "but they are a fearfully low grade lot, and—and they have done some awful things in lonely places, out of revenge, on white people."
Bob looked up sharply.
"What do you know about it?" he asked in a voice that sounded almost stern.
"The servants—Kate and Mary—have told us stories," Eustace explained.
"Oh, they have, have they?" Bob positively snorted in indignation. "Then they deserve to be sacked."
He was silent a long time, puffing out volumes of smoke, then he said suddenly,—
"Look here, Eustace, don't get stupid and frightened about the black-fellows. Your father has never done them any harm; they have nothing to revenge here, for he hasn't interfered with any of them."
"But Kate says that doesn't matter," Eustace said dismally. "She says they have a deadly hatred against all white people."