"Stafford's a little bit of us in a way," said Barry in a whisper to Wallstein as they left the room. "He knows, too, what a sjambok's worth in Krool's eyes."
When the two were left alone, Stafford slowly seated himself, and his fingers played idly with the sjambok.
"You say you will do what you like, in spite of the Baas?" he asked, in a low, even tone.
"If the Baas hurt me, I will hurt. If anybody hurt me, I will hurt."
"You will hurt the Baas, eh? I thought he saved your life on the Limpopo."
A flush stole across Krool's face, and when it passed again he was paler than before. "I have save the Baas," he answered, sullenly.
"From what?"
"From you."
With a powerful effort, Stafford controlled himself. He dreaded what was now to be said, but he felt inevitably what it was.
"How—from me?"