Marie: An Episode in the Life of the Late Allan QuatermainHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
General
Marie: An Episode in the Life of the Late Allan Quatermain
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Quatermain, Allan (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
So I made up my mind to fall in with his wishes, and we began to
bargain. The end of it was that I advanced him enough of my remaining
goods to buy the cattle he required from the surrounding natives. It
was no great quantity, after all, seeing that in this uncivilised place
an ox could be purchased for a few strings of beads or a cheap knife.
Further, I sold him a few of the beasts that I had broken, a gun, some
ammunition and certain other necessaries, for all of which things he
gave me a note of hand written in my pocket-book. Indeed, I did more;
for as none of the Boers would help him I assisted Pereira to break in
the cattle he bought, and even consented when he asked me to give him
the services of two of the Zulus whom I had hired.
All these preparations took a long while. If I remember right, twelve
more days had gone by before Pereira finally trekked off from Marais’s
camp, by which time he was quite well and strong again.
We all assembled to see the start, and Marais offered up a prayer for
his nephew’s safe journey and our happy meeting again in Natal at the
laager of Retief, which was to be our rendezvous, if that leader were
still in Natal. No one else joined in the prayer. Only Vrouw Prinsloo
audibly added another of her own. It was to the effect that he might
not come back a second time, and that she might never see his face
again, either at Retief’s laager or anywhere else, if it would please
the good Lord so to arrange matters.
The Boers tittered; even the Meyer children tittered, for by this time
the hatred of the Vrouw Prinsloo for Hernan Pereira was the joke of the
place. But Pereira himself pretended not to hear, said good-bye to us
all affectionately, adding a special petition for the Vrouw Prinsloo,
and off we went.
I say “we went” because with my usual luck, to help him with the
half-broken oxen, I was commandeered to accompany this man to his first
outspan, a place with good water about twelve miles from the camp,
where he proposed to remain for the night.
Now, as we started about ten o’clock in the morning and the veld was
fairly level, I expected that we should reach this outspan by three or
four in the afternoon, which would give me time to walk back before
sunset. In fact, however, so many accidents happened of one sort or
another, both to the wagon itself, of which the woodwork had shrunk
with long standing in the sun, and to the cattle, which, being unused
to the yoke, tied themselves in a double knot upon every opportunity,
that we only arrived there at the approach of night.
The last mile of that trek was through a narrow gorge cut out by water
in the native rock. Here trees grew sparsely, also great ferns, but the
bottom of the gorge, along which game were accustomed to travel, was
smooth enough for wagons, save for a few fallen boulders, which it was
necessary to avoid.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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