“Ask him, Antonio,” said Harold, “what is his object in visiting this part of the country.”
“To procure slaves,” said Marizano, curtly.
“I thought so,” returned Harold; “but he will find that the men of this tribe are not easily overcome.”
“I do not wish to overcome them,” said the half-caste. “I have procured enough of slaves, as you see,” (pointing to the gang which was halted some hundred yards or so in rear of his armed men), “but I heard that you were prisoners here, and I have come to prove to you that even a slave-trader can return good for evil. You did this,” he said, looking at Disco, and pointing to his old wound in the arm; “I now come to deliver you from slavery.”
Having suppressed part of the truth, and supplemented the rest of it with this magnificent lie, Marizano endeavoured to look magnanimous.
“I don’t believe a word of it,” said Disco, decidedly.
“I incline to doubt it too,” said Harold; “but he may have some good reason of his own for his friendly professions towards us. In any case we have no resource left but to assume that he speaks the truth.”
Turning to Marizano, he said:—
“We are not prisoners here. We are guests of the chief of this village.”
“In that case,” replied the half-caste, “I can return to the coast without you.”