Swallow: A Tale of the Great TrekHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
History
Swallow: A Tale of the Great Trek
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Historical fiction; South Africa -- History -- Great Trek, 1836-1840 -- Fiction; Transvaal (South Africa) -- Fiction
So, like one in a dream, Suzanne loosened the bar, and, crouching by
the entrance to the hut, uttered a low wail of terror, saying, “Help
me, soldier, help me swiftly,” in the Kaffir tongue. The man without
heard, and, pushing down the board, crept in at once, saying, “Who
harms you, lady?” as he rose to his feet. Then suddenly, in this hut,
where there was but one woman, a white woman, whom he himself had
carried into it, he beheld another woman—Sihamba; and his hair stood up
upon his head and his eyes grew round with terror. Yes, it was Sihamba
herself, for the light of the candles shone full upon her, or, rather,
her ghost, and she was hanging to the roof, the tips of her toes just
touching the ground, as once he had seen her hang before.
For some seconds the man stared in his terror, and while he stared
Suzanne slipped from the hut. Then muttering, “It is the spirit of the
witch, Sihamba, who prophesied my death—her spirit that haunts me,” he
dropped to his knees, and, trembling like a leaf, turned to creep from
the hut. Next second he was _dead_, dead without a sound, for Sihamba
was a doctoress, and knew well where to thrust with the spear.
Of all this Suzanne heard nothing and saw nothing, till presently
Sihamba stood by her side holding the skin cape in one hand and the
spear in the other.
“Now one danger is done with,” she said quietly, as she put on the
cape, “but many still remain. Follow me, Swallow,” and, going to the
edge of the stream, she hooted like an owl, whereupon Zinti came out of
the reeds, looking very cold and frightened.
“Be swift,” whispered Sihamba, and they started along the krantz at a
run. Before they were half way across it, the storm-clouds, which had
been thinning gradually, broke up altogether, and the moon shone out
with a bright light, showing them as plainly as though it were day; but
as it chanced they met nobody and were seen of none.
At length they reached the cleft in the rock that led to the plain
below. “Stay here,” said Sihamba, “while I look,” and she crept to the
entrance. Presently she returned and said:
“A man watches there, and it is not possible to slip past him because
of the moonlight. Now, I know of only one thing that we can do; and
you, Zinti, must do it. Slip down the rock and cover the man with your
gun, saying to him that if he stirs a hand or speaks a word you will
shoot him dead. Hold him thus till we are past you on our way to the
wood, then follow us as best you can, but do not fire except to save
your life or ours.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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