John Ames, Native Commissioner: A Romance of the Matabele RisingMitford, Bertram
History
John Ames, Native Commissioner: A Romance of the Matabele Rising
Mitford, Bertram
South Africa -- Fiction; Zimbabwe -- History -- Ndebele Revolt, 1896 -- Fiction
It was now quite dark, yet thanks to the myriad stars which had rushed
forth in the heavens, not so blackly so but that outlines were
discernible. Standing thus she thought she heard a sound--the sound of
voices. Hope--relief--gave way to terror, as she recognised the clear,
yet deep-toned, drawl of native voices. It is probable they were a
great way off, for the sound of the human voice, especially the native
voice, carries far in the stillness of night; but of this, wholly
unnerved by the ghastly discoveries of the last hour, she did not pause
to think. In wild panic she fled.
By the light of the stars she could see her way dimly. She knew the
path leading to the river-bed, and down it she dashed. Something
rustled in the bushes at her right. Her brain throbbed like a
steam-hammer, and she pressed her hands to her breast to keep down the
piercing, panic-stricken scream which rose to her lips. The grasp of
murderous hands put forth to seize her, the crash or stab of savage
weapon, were what she expected. Her limbs gave way beneath her, and she
sank to the earth.
Only for a moment, though. The instinct of self-preservation rose
strong within her. She must conquer her fears. The effort must be
made. Rising, she continued her flight, and soon had gained the bed of
the river, and the hiding-place for which she was making. There, like a
hunted hare, she crouched, striving to still the beatings of her heart,
which to her terrified imagination seemed audible enough to reach any
ears within hearing of anything.
The place she was in she knew well. It had been a favourite spot for
the Hollingworth children to use for their impromptu pic-nics, and more
than once she had helped them light their fire and grill the birds they
had shot with their catapults--playing at camping out having been one of
their favourite amusements. It was a hollow in the river-bank--which
here was of stiff clay and perpendicular--and the front being entirely
hidden by brushwood, it formed a sort of cave. Here, if anywhere, she
would be safe from discovery.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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