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Rh "They're nasty brutes," Keith agreed, "but they're cowards, fortunately. Besides, these niggers don't look on them in the same light that we do. Dozens of times I've seen blacks jump in and attack a shark with a knife for the fun of the thing. Sometimes they use a short stick, sharpened at both ends, and wait for the shark to turn over and open its mouth to make a grab. Then the nigger pushes the stick into its mouth and props the thing's jaws open with it. They have to be as quick as lightning, because Mr. Shark is moving just then about as fast as an express train and, being hungry, is in no mood to be fooled with. I must confess, though, it even gives me the creeps to watch that performance. You know it will be all right—that is to say, you expect it will; but if anything were to go wrong in the programme there'd be a nasty mess."

"I am quite sure I shouldn't like to watch such a thing at all," the girl replied. "It is risking life stupidly and unnecessarily." "A good deal depends on one's point of view," Keith said. "After all, life itself is just as precious to a nigger in the most uncivilized corner of the earth as it is to an over-fed millionaire living in ease and luxury on Fifth Avenue. But the two of 'em look at things differently. The millionaire is a specialized sort of creature who has got to the point where making another million or so is the only thing that gives him any real pleasure. It's a joy,