“On another night that man called Moz came in secret and said to Djeba, ‘Hark thou well in the night, and before another moon has gone thou wilt hear the drums of the tribesmen of the north.’ And when he saw Djeba take up his reaping-tool he said, ‘Rather shouldst thou sing for joy. For these men here who are ignorant _niggahs_ have told thee things apart from the truth. Thou hast spoken to me of they milk-brother who is called Moa, who was sold into the planting of Maas Djoj Blaak. It has come to my knowledge that Moa has fled from that planting, and with others from other plantings has gone to fight in the war-parties of the Yankis, where they are received with honors. Is it probable that such men eat babes? No, Djim, I repeat to thee, these here are child-headed _niggahs_, who know not that the Yankis come to set them free out of labor in the plantings. No, Djim, rather shouldst thou sing for joy, for when thou see’st the Yankis thou wilt see thy milk-brother in their train.’ “Then Djeba’s heart sang for joy. “‘Again, again I shall see my brother!’ he cried. ‘Again our eyes shall behold one thing and our breaths shall be one!’ And he said to Moz, ‘Now I too will run away from the stockade and I will go to meet Moa.’ “And Moz said, ‘But the driver will prevent thee.’ “And Djeba said, ‘No, for I will kill the driver before I go.’ “And Djeba waited, feeding his heart on the thought of Moa and on the promise of the death of that white man who had laughed. “There came an evening when he watched and saw the driver going out of the stockade into the edge of the bush. So Djeba took up his sharp reaping-tool and followed, creeping near the ground. He came near to the driver. He saw him very clearly. The driver was dressed in finery, with a hat like a deep drum fashioned of fur, and a tunic of blue cloth with buttons of silver. Djeba saw him against the light of dusk in the sky. But the driver was not alone. Mis’us was there, where she had stolen for solitude. It was she that the driver had followed, as the desert hyena slinks slavering after the lone gazelle. The fear was in Djeba that if he struck the man, then the woman would give the alarm and he would be taken again. He might have struck both. But his heart was softened by the compassion of the woman, and what was written in the book of the future he was not given yet to read. Had he known! Had he but known to strike--the driver afterward, perhaps--but the woman first. “But while he hesitated, already it was too late. He saw the driver step forward and grasp the woman’s arm, uttering words he could not understand. He saw the woman, standing quietly, turn her head and spit once and spit twice in the driver’s face. “She continued to stand quietly, like stone. But the driver flung off toward the stockade, laughing terribly in his deep chest.