“She set the dog on me. Look here! and here! and here!” and he pointed to the half-healed scars left by Stomp’s sharp fangs.
Muller laughed a little. “I should like to have seen him worry you, you black cheat; it shows her spirit, too. I suppose you are angry, and want to have a revenge?”
“Surely.”
“Well, who knows? Perhaps you shall; we are going there to-morrow.”
“So, Baas! I knew that before you told me.”
“We are going there, and we are going to take the place; and we are going to try Uncle Silas by court-martial for flying an English flag, and if he is found guilty we are going to shoot him, Hendrik.”
“So, Baas,” said the Kafir, rubbing his hands in glee, “but will he be found guilty?”
“I don’t know,” murmured the white man, stroking his golden beard; “that will depend upon what missie has to say; and upon the verdict of the court,” he added, by way of an afterthought.
“On the verdict of the court, ha! ha!” chuckled his wicked satellite; “on the verdict of the court, yes! yes! and the Baas will be president, ha! ha! One needs no witchcraft to guess that verdict. And if the court finds Uncle Silas guilty, who will do the shooting, Baas?”
“I have not thought of that; the time has not come to think of it. It does not matter; anybody can carry out the sentence of the law.”