I thought this was a very good introduction. But the chief glanced at me and at Moit, frowning darkly, and asked:
“Who the white men? What bring them here?”
“You speak about our slaves? Bah! Have my brothers of San Blas, then, no slaves to do their work?”
The chief considered a moment.
“Where you get white slaves?” he questioned, suspiciously.
“Stan’ up, Dunc!” said Bry, giving the inventor a vicious kick that made him howl. “Where we get you, heh?”
He kicked him again, quite unnecessarily, I thought, and Moit stood up with a red and angry face and growled:
“Stop that, you fool!”
At this rebellion Nux promptly fetched him a blow behind the knees that sent him tumbling backward upon his seat, and when I laughed—for I could not help it—I got another ear-splitter that made me hold my head and be glad to keep silent. Moit evidently saw the force of our blacks’ arguments, for he recovered his wits in time to avoid further blows.
The exhibition had one good effect, anyway; it lulled any suspicions of the chief that the Honorable Bryonia and Senator Nux might not be the masters in our little party. Although Duncan Moit and I constantly encountered looks of bitter hatred, our men were thereafter treated with ample respect and consideration.