"I," coolly answered Malco.
"You!" cried Tarou Niom, "Then you are a traitor."
The mameluco shrugged his shoulders.
"A traitor!" said he, with irony; "Am I then one of your people; do I belong to your nation; have you confided this secret, forbidding me to reveal it?"
"But, then, if you have sold your secret to these men, why do you now denounce them to us?"
"That is my affair, and concerns me only; as to you, see if it will suit you to allow strangers to penetrate into your country."
"Listen," said Tarou Niom severely; "you are just the man that your colour shows you; that is to say, a faithless white man. You sell your brethren. What price do you demand? Answer, and be brief."
The half-caste lifted his eyes at this rude apostrophe; then immediately collecting himself—
"A very little matter," said he, "the right of taking prisoner whomsoever may suit me, and to choose him without any obstacle being offered me."
"Very well, it shall be so."