The golden pool : $b A story of a forgotten mineFreeman, R. Austin (Richard Austin)
General
The golden pool : $b A story of a forgotten mine
Freeman, R. Austin (Richard Austin)
British -- Africa -- Fiction; Mines and mineral resources -- Fiction
With what remained of daylight we sat down to make our meal off the
yam, which I cut evenly into two parts, falling upon my half with the
avidity of starvation; but Bukári, who usually ate like a wolf, made
so little progress with his portion, that, when I was crunching the
last fragment of rind, he had barely scooped out half the mealy
inside.
“Is thy stomach too proud for yam now thou hast tasted meat?” I asked.
“It is not my stomach that is proud,” he replied with a discontented
growl. “I can hardly get my mouth open. My jaws are as stiff as the
lock of a rusty musket; they have had too little to do lately.”
It was dark before he had finished eating, and even then he had not
cleaned out the yam; but tucking the remainder under his arm,
announced that he was ready.
By this time I was feeling quite fresh and lively, and ready for such
a night march as would fairly take us out of reach of the fetish-men;
but Bukári plodded on in a dejected, spiritless manner that caused me
some anxiety. My attempts to keep up a cheerful conversation met with
but short and gruff responses, and presently he announced that his
jaws were too stiff for talking, and relapsed into complete silence.
So we trudged on through the darkness, for the sky was overcast and
the forest dense, speaking not a word, and travelling at but a poor
pace, until nearly midnight, when Bukári suddenly halted.
“What is it?” I asked. “Art thou tired?”
“I am weak,” he replied, “and my limbs feel as if they were made of
wood. I can go no farther to-night.”
He spoke in a thick, strange voice through his clenched teeth, and was
evidently feeling ill. It was most unfortunate that he should break
down just now, but there was no help for it, so I led the way off the
road for a short distance, literally feeling my way through the thick
undergrowth, until I felt the butt of a tree, and by this we sat down
to wait for the approach of day. When we had sat for some time in
silence--for Bukári was evidently disinclined for conversation--my
companion remarked huskily that it was needless for us both to watch;
and he thereupon stretched himself on the ground and appeared to fall
asleep.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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