"You'll be too late if you take me into town. See."
He showed his watch and held out a twenty-five gourde bill.
"Suppose I give you this. It's all the money I have. You can tell Jules to tell Manuel that you saw me get on board a steamer in Cap Haitien, and that you saw the steamer start. Then you can be back in plenty of time for the dance."
Hippolyte hesitated. The temptation was strong.
"Unless, of course," the boy added carelessly, "you like this white man, Manuel, so much."
An expression of primitive hate wrote itself on the ebon face, a peculiarly malignant snarl, as seen by moonlight.
"I hate all whites!" he flashed.
"Then why should you do a good turn for this Manuel?"
The instincts of a simple honesty struggled with the black's desire. A passing gust of wind brought the rhythmic beating of the tom-tom clearer to their ears. It was the one call that the jungle blood of the negro could not resist. He held out his hand for the money.
"You go into Cap Haitien alone?" he queried, thickly.