Diamond Dyke: The Lone Farm on the Veldt - Story of South African AdventureFenn, George Manville
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Diamond Dyke: The Lone Farm on the Veldt - Story of South African Adventure
Fenn, George Manville
Adventure stories; South Africa -- Fiction
At last the morning dawned when a steady day's work would bring them to
Kopfontein, and starting at once, they got on a few miles before halting
for breakfast. Then went on for three hours; halted again to dine and
rest during the hottest part of the day. After which there was the
little river to ford a couple of miles farther on, and then twelve miles
would bring them home, late in the evening perhaps, but Dyke was
determined to finish before he slept.
Hardly had they settled down in the shelter of the wagon for that
mid-day halt, than Dyke found that the wagon-tilt would be useful for
something else besides keeping off the sun. For some clouds which had
been gathering all the morning, centred themselves at last directly
overhead; there was a succession of terrific peals of thunder following
upon blinding flashes of lightning, which seemed to play all round and
about the wagon, making Breezy stand shivering as he pressed close up
alongside, and drew the cattle together with their heads inward, as if
for mutual protection.
Then down came the rain in a perfect deluge, and for a good hour flash
and peal seemed to be engaged in trying to tear up the clouds, from
which the great drops of rain poured down.
The storm ceased as quickly as it had come on, and the rain having been
sucked up by the thirsty, sandy earth, so that when they started again,
save that the wagon-cover was soaked, drawn tight, and streaming, there
was no sign for a while of the storm. There were certainly the clouds
fading in the distance, but the sky overhead was of a glorious blue, the
little herbage they passed was newly washed and clean, and the drops
left sparkled in the brilliant sunshine.
What followed, then, came as a surprise.
They had gone on for some distance before it suddenly recurred to Dyke
that they had to cross the little river; and now, for the first time, he
became conscious of a low, soft murmur, as of insects swarming, but
this, though continuous, did not take his attention much, for he set it
down to a cloud of insects, roused from their torpor by the sun, and now
busily feeding, perhaps, close at hand, though invisible as he rode
gently along, breathing in with delight the sweet, cool air.
But at the end of half an hour the murmur had grown louder, and it
sounded louder still as he drew rein by some bushes to let Breezy crop
the moist shoots, while he waited for the wagon to come up, it being
about half a mile behind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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