The Curse of Carne's Hold: A Tale of AdventureHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
The Curse of Carne's Hold: A Tale of Adventure
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
South Africa -- History -- Frontier Wars, 1811-1878 -- Juvenile fiction
They were now on the pathway leading down to the kraal. The chief took
the lead, telling Mary Armstrong to take hold of his blanket and follow
close behind him, while Ronald followed on her heels, the other Fingoes
keeping in the rear. The darkness beneath the trees was dense, and it
was some time before Ronald could make out even the outline of the
figures before him. Before approaching a kraal a halt was always made,
and one of the Fingoes went on ahead to see if the fires were out and
all natives inside their huts. Several times, although all the human
beings were asleep, the scout returned, saying that they could not pass
through the kraal, for the dogs had scented him and growled fiercely,
and would set up such a barking when the party passed as to bring all
the village out to see what was the matter.
Then long detours, that would have been difficult through the thick bush
in daylight, but at night were almost impossible, had to be made. Each
time that this had to be done, Kreta lifted Mary Armstrong and carried
her, and she had now become so exhausted that she was unable even to
protest. Ronald would have carried her himself, but he felt that it
would be worse than useless to attempt to do so. Though unencumbered, he
had the greatest difficulty in making his way through the bushes, which
scratched and tore his flesh terribly; but the chief seemed to be
possessed of the eyes of a bat, and glided through them, scarcely moving
a twig as he passed. After going on for upwards of three hours, the
chief stopped.
"It will be getting light soon. We must hide her now. Cannot get further
until to-morrow night."
Although Ronald Mervyn, struggling along in the darkness, had not
noticed it, the party had for the last hour turned off from the line
they had before been following. They stopped by a little stream, running
down the valley. Here a native refilled the gourds, and Mary Armstrong
felt better after a drink of water.
"I think," Ronald said to her, "that if you were to bathe your face and
hands it would refresh you. There is a rock here just at the edge of
the stream, I am sure your feet must be sore and blistered. It will be
half an hour before there is a gleam of light, and I should recommend
you to take off your shoes and stockings and paddle your feet in the
water."
"That would be refreshing," the girl said. "My feet are aching
dreadfully. Now please tell me all that has happened, and how you came
to be here."
Sitting beside her, Ronald told her what had been done from the time
when his party arrived and beat off the natives attacking the waggons.
"How can I thank you enough?" she said, when he had finished. "To think
that you have done all this for me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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