Hair-Breadth Escapes: The Adventures of Three Boys in South Africa — John Shaqi
Hair-Breadth Escapes: The Adventures of Three Boys in South AfricaAdams, H. C. (Henry Cadwallader)
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Hair-Breadth Escapes: The Adventures of Three Boys in South Africa
Adams, H. C. (Henry Cadwallader)
Adventure stories; Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Hunting -- Juvenile fiction; South Africa -- Juvenile fiction
Gilbert complied, and the whole party stepped out briskly, their
curiosity, as well as their interest, being strongly awakened. They
toiled through the heavy sand, which was only varied by heaps of
drift-wood flung up by the sea, and the rotten carcasses of mud fish,
which had been carried too far inland by the tide to be able to recover
their native element. The stench, under the burning sun, was almost
insupportable, and the three adventurers were greatly relieved, when,
after a walk of three-quarters of an hour, the desert of sand was
passed, and they ascended a rocky plateau, where some crags, twelve or
fifteen feet in height, afforded at least some shelter from the rapidly
increasing heat. "We are getting near the place now," observed Nick, as
they reached the last of a long chain of rocks, and came upon a wide and
apparently level plain, but so much enveloped in mist as to be very
imperfectly discerned.
"There it is, I declare," exclaimed Frank, who was the first of the
party to turn the corner of the limestone shelf. "There it all is--
houses, fortifications, and soldiers, just as Nick said!"
There, indeed, it was. At the distance, as it seemed, of scarcely more
than three hundred feet, were seen distinctly the battlemented walls of
a city of great size and strength. There were the gateways, the
flanking towers, and the embrasures; while behind them rose domes and
cupolas, and the sharp-peaked roofs of numberless houses, intermingled
with lofty trees. Under the walls ran a broad river, the waters of
which rippled brightly in the sunshine, and upon its banks long lines of
infantry were drawn up, or what appeared to be infantry, all standing
silent and motionless as so many statues.
The two boys gazed in the utmost bewilderment at this spectacle, while
Lion bounded forward, evidently meditating a plunge into the cool and
sparkling waters. The astonishment of the party was in no way
diminished, when the doctor, raising his gun to his shoulder, fired
directly at the nearest platoon of soldiers, one of whom was seen to
fall. The next moment the whole of his companions rose with loud
screams into the air, and dispersed themselves in all directions.
Almost at the same moment the walls and battlements of the fortress and
ridges of roof behind them wavered and shook, and finally vanished from
the scene, as the smoke of a wood fire is lost in the surrounding
atmosphere. In their place appeared a low serrated ridge of rock, on
which a few stunted shrubs were growing, while in front and behind alike
extended the interminable waste of sand.
"Here is your soldier, Nick," said the doctor, as he picked up the
carcass of a large flamingo, which his shot had brought down. "Here's
his red cap and jacket--his beak and wings, that is to say--and here are
his white facings--his neck and chest. You are not the first by a good
many that has made that mistake!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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