Marie: An Episode in the Life of the Late Allan QuatermainHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
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Marie: An Episode in the Life of the Late Allan Quatermain
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Quatermain, Allan (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
“It may be so, Allan. But even if another’s heart is black, should
yours be black also? Oh! I will come, though it be to my death,” and,
rising from the stool with the most dreadful groan, he began to divest
himself of the tattered blanket in which he was wrapped up.
“Oh! Allan, my father must not go; it will kill him,” exclaimed Marie,
who took a more serious view of his case than I did.
“Very well, if you think so,” I answered. “And now, as it is time for
me to be starting, good-bye.”
“You have a good heart, Allan,” said Marais, sinking back upon his
stool and resuming his blanket, while Marie looked despairingly first
at one and then at the other of us.
Half an hour later I was on the road in the very worst of tempers.
“Mind what you are about,” called Vrouw Prinsloo after me. “It is not
lucky to save an enemy, and if I know anything of that stinkcat, he
will bite your finger badly by way of gratitude. Bah! lad, if I were
you I should just camp for a few days in the bush, and then come back
and say that I could find nothing of Pereira except the dead hyenas
that had been poisoned by eating him. Good luck to you all the same,
Allan; may I find such a friend in need. It seems to me that you were
born to help others.”
Beside the Hottentot Klaus, my companions on this unwelcome journey
were three of the Zulu Kaffirs, for Hans I was obliged to leave in
charge of my cattle and goods with the other men. Also, I took a
pack-ox, an active beast that I had been training to carry loads and,
if necessary a man, although as yet it was not very well broken.
All that day we marched over extremely rough country, till at last
darkness found us in a mountainous kloof, where we slept, surrounded by
watch-fires because of the lions. Next morning at the first light we
moved on again, and about ten o’clock waded through a stream to a
little natural cave, where Klaus said he had left his master. This cave
seemed extremely silent, and, as I hesitated for a moment at its mouth,
the thought crossed my mind that if Pereira were still there, he must
be dead. Indeed, do what I would to suppress it, with that reflection
came a certain feeling of relief and even of pleasure. For well I knew
that Pereira alive was more dangerous to me than all the wild men and
beasts in Africa put together. Thrusting back this unworthy sentiment
as best I could, I entered the cave alone, for the natives, who dread
the defilement of the touch of a corpse, lingered outside.
It was but a shallow cavity washed out of the overhanging rock by the
action of water; and as soon as my eyes grew accustomed to its gloom, I
saw that at the end of it lay a man. So still did he lie, that now I
was almost certain that his troubles were over. I went up to him and
touched his face, which was cold and clammy, and then, quite convinced,
turned to leave the place, which, I thought, if a few rocks were piled
in the mouth of it, would make an excellent sepulchre.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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