I tried my best to make a man out of
him, but he wouldn't have it, so we severed our connections
absolutely. I just kicked him out. Sorry I didn't do it sooner."
"If you have cut him off, why do you care what becomes of him?"
Darwin K. Anthony's eyes dimmed, but his voice rose fiercely.
"He's my boy, and I've a right to treat him any damned way I
please, but nobody else is going to abuse him! These Spaniards
can't do it! I'll teach them to lay hands on my--boy." He tore a
handkerchief from his pocket and blew a blast into it. "I'll tear
their little Republic to pieces," he shouted. "I'll buy the whole
works and throw it away. I'll buy their President and their courts
and their whole infernal population, and if they won't sell I've
got enough men to take it. Hell's bells, madam, do you think these
little black people can shoot MY son? I don't care what he's done,
they've got to give him up. And he's going back with me. He's
going home; I--I--want him."
"Why have you come to me?" she queried.
"Because you must know the truth, if anybody does, and I want your
help." His voice softened suddenly, and he regarded her with a
gentle kindness that was surprising. "I've heard all about you and
Kirk. In fact, I've known what was going on all the time, for I've
had a man on his track night and day.
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