The Maroon

“Confusion!” cried the overseer. “You’ll repent that insult before you’re a month older – curse me if you don’t!”

And with this characteristic menace, the ruffian turned and walked sullenly away.

“Caspita!” cried one of the Spaniards, as the two hastened to follow their leader. “My brave dogs! Ah, demonio! you shall pay dearly for them. Two hundred pesos each – not a cuartito less!”

“Not a cuartito for either!” responded the yellow hunter, with a mocking laugh. “Haven’t I proved that they are not worth it? With all your boasting of what your bloodhounds could do, look at them now. Vaya! my fine fellows! Go back to your own country, and hunt runaway negroes there. Here you must leave that game to those who know how to manage it —the Maroons!”

Herbert observed that the hunter, on pronouncing these last words, drew himself up with an air of majestic pride – as he did so, glancing scornfully towards the crestfallen caçadores.

An angry “Carrai!” simultaneously hissed from the lips of both, was the only reply made by the two Spaniards; who, at the same instant, turned their backs upon the ceiba, and followed their leader across the glade.

Volume One – Chapter Twenty Seven

The Maroons

As soon as they were gone out of sight, the hunter turned towards Herbert, his eyes sparkling with gratitude.

“Master!” said he, making a low obeisance as he spoke, “after that, words are but a poor way of offering thanks. If the brave white gentleman who has risked his life for a coloured outcast will let me know his name, it will not be forgotten by Cubina, the Maroon

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