Higher up a torch-wood
tree gleamed as if sprayed with gold, its limbs, lean and bare of
foliage, holding at their extremities in wisp-like fingers bright,
yellow, solitary blooms. From a _tendu_ tree a pair of droll little
brown monkeys chattered and grimaced at the clattering cart.
A spotted owlet, disturbed by the driver's encouraging, "Pop-pop!
Dih-dih-dih! Ho-ho-ho! children of jungle swine; brothers to buffalo!"
addressed to the horses lagging in the climb, fluttered away with his
silly little cackle.
These incidents of travel were almost unnoticed of Barlow. All up the
climb the retrospect was with him, claiming his thoughts. Just
that--all that was in evidence, a pigment in the skin, _caste_; and yet
reacting away back to God's mandate against the union of the white and
black. And verily a sin to be visited even unto the third and fourth
generation, for the bar sinister would be upon his children; they would
be half-castes with all of the opprobrium the name carried. Even the
son of a king, the offspring of such a union would be spoken of in mess
and drawing-room as a half-caste: the indelible sign would be upon him,
the blue tint to the white moons in his finger nails.
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