"My mistake," he would utter, through failing breath. "As long as I live, I 'll never--I swear it--I swear it. O-o-oh. You 're very--hard--on me."
The Kafir had ceased to run when Mr. Bailey turned to flee. He stood and watched him go, unpursued and terrified, with the dust spirting under his feet like the smoke of a powder-train. Then he went back and aided Mrs. du Preez to rise and together they set out again.
The last of Boy Bailey was a black blot against the sky; he was too far off for Kamis to see whether he still ran or stood. It merely testified that a degenerate human frame will stand blows and much emotion and effort under a hot sun and yet hold safe for further evil the life within it. Man of all animals is the most tenacious of his existence; he lives not for food but for appetite. What was assured was that the far blot that represented Boy Bailey was still avid and still unsatisfied. He had not even gratified his last desire to apologize.
The sun dawdled over the final splendid ceremony of his setting, drawing out the pomp of departure while night waited in the east for his going with pale premature stars. The small wind that clears the earth of the sun's leavings of heat sighed about them, and produced from each side of their path a faint rustle as though it stirred trees at a little distance. Above them the sky began to light up with a luminous powder of stars, that strained into radiant clearness before the west was empty of its last pink stain. They went slowly, Mrs. du Preez leaning heavily on Kamis' arm, and still faithfully carrying her bundle. She had not spoken since they started. She went with her eyes on the ground, and unequal steps, till the evening breeze touched her and she lifted her face to its gentle refreshment.
She had to sit down every little while, but she was stronger after the setting of the sun, and it was not till the night had surrounded them that she spoke.
"When I saw you first," she said suddenly, "the sun was in my eyes. And I thought you was--_black_?"
"Yes?" said Kamis. "That wasn't the sun," he said slowly. "I am black."
"But--" she hesitated. "I don't mean just black," she said vaguely. "I meant--a black man, a nigger."
She was peering up at him anxiously, while her weight rested in his arm.