"No," said Lewis; "there never was one."

"Exactly," said Leighton. "There never was one because in the early days
our planters found out what not to buy in the way of black meat. They
weren't looking for the indomitable spirit. They weren't looking for
men, but for slaves, and the black-birders soon learned that if they
didn't want to carry their cargo farther than New Orleans they had to
load up with members of the gentlest tribes. Now, there have been
terrible uprisings of blacks in the West Indies, in Demerara and here.
Ask this old chap of what race he is."

Lewis turned and asked the question. The tall black straightened, his
face grew stern, his eyes moist.

"Tito, my name. I am of the tribe of Minas. In the time of thy
grandfather I was traded as ransom for a king."

"Hm--m, I can believe it," said Leighton. "Now ask the next one, the
copper-colored giant."

"And thou?" said Lewis.

"I? I am a Fulah of the Fulahs. Before blacks were, or whites, we were
thus, the color of both."

"You see?" said Leighton. "Pride. He was afraid you'd take him for a
mulatto. Now the other fellow, there."

"And thou?" said Lewis.