Dead Man's Land: Being the Voyage to Zimbambangwe of certain and uncertain blacks and whitesFenn, George Manville
General
Dead Man's Land: Being the Voyage to Zimbambangwe of certain and uncertain blacks and whites
Fenn, George Manville
Africa -- Fiction; Hunting stories; Travel -- Fiction
"Say, Dan, old chap, this 'ere's a rum game," whispered Buck. "What do
you think of it?"
"Think I should like to get hold of that long-legged 'un. I'd make him
sing to a different tune instead of giving us another specimen of his
whistlin'."
By this time the ponies were far down the track, headed by their strange
visitor, whom the boys had fully expected from moment to moment to see
leap upon one of his companion's backs.
"Well," said Mark, "this is getting up for a refresher before
breakfast!"
"Yes, sir," said Buck. "It's about spoilt mine. Why didn't you bring
him down last night, Mr Mark? I am sure he desarved it."
"No, he didn't," cried the lad addressed. "Look at that! I say,
father, hooray! He's come back."
The boy was quite right, for it was plain enough now, distant as the
objects were, to see in the clear bright morning their nocturnal visitor
describe a curve upon the open country side and, slackening his pace,
begin trotting back, the little drove of ponies dropping from their
canter into a steady trot, coming nearer and nearer till their leader
brought them to where the party had camped for the night; and here they
drew up short and began to crop the tender green shoots again, while the
strange visitor, who did not seem in the slightest degree out of breath,
drew his long pendent moustachios through his hands.
"Well, sir," said Sir James sharply, "pray, what does this mean?"
"Mean?" said the man sadly. "Ponies--know me."
"So it seems," said Sir James; "but I've bought them."
"Yes," said the man, in his most melancholy tone.
"Well, what were you going to say by way of explanation?"
"Nothing."
"Well, what do you want?"
"Breakfast."
"That's what he said before," cried Dean.
"Hungry," said the man, quite reproachfully.
The doctor laughed, and the rest joined in chorus, Dan beginning to
stamp about in the exuberance of his delight.
"Beg pardon, gentleman," he said, checking himself suddenly, "but he do
set me off."
"But the worst of it is, my man," said the doctor, "that this is
resolving itself into no laughing matter."
"No, sir," said Buck respectfully. "There's more cry about him than
laugh."
"Yes," said Mark sharply. "If you had been here and heard him talk it
would have sounded to you as if he had come for help because he was
ill."
"Well, whatever is done," said Sir James, "we must give the poor fellow
some breakfast, and follow it up with a few shillings, or we shall be
having him putting a stop to our expedition."
"Mind he doesn't hear what you say, father," whispered Mark.
"To be sure," said the doctor. "We mustn't let him realise what a power
he has in his hands."
"In his fingers, I think," said Mark.
"And it seems to me," said Sir James, "that he already knows it. Here,
what about breakfast? We will talk about it over our morning meal."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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