Then I understood what he meant when he said “I am ready.” Accused of a crime the punishment of which was death, he believed that I had come to announce his immediate execution; and yet this man endowed with herculean strength, with all the avenues of escape open to him, had in a calm and childlike manner repeated “I am ready!”
“Do not hurt Rask,” said he, once more.
I could restrain myself no longer.
“What!” I exclaimed, “not only do you take me for your executioner, but you think so meanly of my humanity, that you believe I would injure this poor dog, who has never done me any harm!”
His manner softened, and there was a slight tremor in his voice as he offered me his hand, saying,
“White man, pardon me, but I love my dog, and your race have cruelly injured me.”
I embraced him, I clasped his hand, I did my best to undeceive him.
“Do you not know me?” asked I.
“I know that you are white, and that a negro is nothing in the eyes of men of your colour; besides you have injured me.”
“In what manner?” exclaimed I, in surprise.