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
“Get you gone, Bull-Head, and take lessons in lying from your friends
of my trade, the Kaffir witch-doctors, for never before did I hear a
man bear false witness so clumsily. On the third night of his illness
the husband of Swallow was alive and doing well; the Heer Jan Botmar
was not wounded at all, and as for the Vrouw Botmar, never in her life
did she drink anything stronger than coffee, for the white man’s
firewater is poison to her. Get you gone, you silly half-breed, who
seek to deceive the ears of Sihamba, and I counsel you, hold fast to
your business of theft and murder and give up that of lying, in which
you will never succeed. Now be off, you stink-cat of the rocks, lest I
send some to hunt you from your hole who this time will use the points
and not the shafts of their assegais. Come, Swallow, let us be going.”
So they went, keeping under cover all the way to the camp, which,
indeed, was quite close to them, and if Swart Piet made any answer they
did not hear it. So soon as they reached it Sihamba told Sigwe what had
passed and he sent men to scour the cliff and the bush behind it, but
of Van Vooren they could find no trace, no, not even the spot where he
had been hidden, so that Sigwe came to believe that they had been
fooled by echoes and had never heard him at all.
But both Suzanne and Sihamba knew that this was not so; indeed, this
hearing of the voice of Swart Piet filled Suzanne with fear, since
where the voice was, there was the man, her hateful enemy, who had
given his life to her ruin and to that of those she loved. Whatever
lies he might have spoken—and her heart told her that all his ill
tidings were but a cruel falsehood—this at least was true, that he had
dogged her step by step through the vast wilderness, and so craftily
that none guessed his presence. What might not be feared from such a
foe as this, half mad and all wicked, armed with terrible cunning and
untiring patience? If the Umpondwana would not receive her she must
fall into his hands at once, and if they did receive her she would
never dare to leave their kraal, for always, always he would be
watching and waiting for her. Little wonder then that she felt afraid,
though, just as the sun shines ever behind the blackest cloud, still in
her heart shone the sure comfort of her hope, and more than hope that
in the end God would give her back her husband and her to him unharmed.
Yet, which ever way she looked the cloud was very black, and through it
she could see no ray of light.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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