“What is the meaning of this?” said Captain W———'s clear, sharp voice, addressing the men who held the chief.
“That hound there”—the men who held their prisoner nearly let him go in their astonishment—“came in here. She was alone. Do you want to know more? I tried to kill him.”
“Let him loose, men,” and Captain W——— stepped up to the prisoner and looked closely into his dark face. “Ah! I thought so—a white man. What is your name?”
The wanderer bent his head, then raised it, and looked for an instant at the sullen face of Hallam.
“I have no name,” he said.
“Humph,” muttered Captain W——— to his lieutenant, “a runaway convict, most likely. He can't be blamed, though, for this affair. He's a perfect brute, that fellow Lacy.” Then to the strange white man he turned contemptuously:
“I'm sorry this man assaulted your wife. He shall suffer for it to-morrow. At the same time I'm sorry I can't tie you up and flog you, as a disgrace to your colour and country, you naked savage.”
The outcast took two strides, a red gleam shone in his eyes, and his voice shook with mad passion.
“'A naked savage'; and you would like to flog me. It was a brute such as you made me what I am,” and he struck the captain of the Pleiades in the face with his clenched hand.