Nic raised his hand slowly to his head and touched the scar of a great cut on one side, the discoloration of a bruise on the other.
“But quite well again now?”
Nic smiled faintly.
“I am weak as a child,” he replied.
“Humph! Yes,” said the overseer, and he threw the chain upon the floor.
Pete, who had been retaining his breath for some moments, uttered a faint exclamation full of relief.
“But why didn’t he speak out and tell him?” For a few moments his better feelings urged him to speak out himself; but he shrank from exposing both to the denials of the other men again, and stood frowning and silent.
Then the chance seemed to be gone, for the overseer gave the young prisoner a thrust towards the others, and Nic walked towards them straight for where Pete was waiting. Then he raised his eyes, saw who was standing in his way, and he went off to his right, to stop beside Humpy Dee, while a feeling of resentment rose hotly in Pete’s breast.
“Oh, very well,” he muttered to himself; “it’s no business of mine.”
The next minute the overseer gave a sharp order; the big black raised the basket and put himself at the head of the prisoners; the other slaves took their places on either side, and the overseer followed behind with the dogs, which began to bound about, barking loudly for a minute or two, and then walked quietly as the party left the gloomy warehouse behind.