"We don't care. One black fellow does not matter," said Compton, coolly.
"You brute!" muttered Venning, but stopped as Compton's hand gripped him.
The Zanzibari chuckled again. "What you give, eh, if cut loose that
Muata?"
"What do you say?"
"You pay me? Good. In night Muata is loose. He run up river. Bymby master go along in little boat, pick Muata up, eh? What you pay?" and the boy chuckled softly.
"Suppose I tell your white master, you rascal?"
"Wow! You tell, they kill poor Zanzibar boy."
"Then clear out," said Compton, launching a kick; "and if I see any more of you I will tell."
The boy turned sulky. "Me guard—me stay."
"You go," said Compton, "or I will call your masters, and let them deal with you."