It was plain, judging from the state of Wombo's new shirt, that he had given the black boy a thrashing; Oola was unscathed.

Of course, Colin could not lift his hand to a woman, though he was a brute and the woman only a black-gin.

Lady Bridget felt faintly glad at this.
She watched the scene, half fascinated, half disgusted, all her attention concentrated on these three figures.

She had but a dim consciousness of two men riding round the store-wing and dismounting.
One of the two remained in the background screened by the trails of native cucumber overhanging the veranda end.

The other--a wiry, powerful figure in uniform, with a rubicund face, black bristling moustache and beard and prominent black eyes, reminding one of the eyes of a bull--walked forward and spoke with an air of official assurance.
'Can I be of any use to you, Mr McKeith, in dealing with that nigger?
A bad character, as I've reason to know.' 'No, thank you, Harris.