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
I found the canoe just as I had left it, and stepping on board, cast
off the painter, and paddled a little way up in the slack water; then
turning her head off shore, I drove her at full speed obliquely across
the river, and secured the painter to a tree on the opposite bank.
Once more taking my weapons, I climbed up on to the level and entered
the forest, and had gone but a short distance when I struck a path of
the usual narrow and tortuous type. Proceeding briskly along this, I
had walked two or three hundred yards when, quite suddenly, I came in
sight of a party of six men sitting round a small fire. They looked
like Ashantis, and were evidently travellers, for their narrow,
canework trays piled with produce lay hard by; and I observed with
envy a goodly bunch of plantains lashed to each tray.
As I was standing taking in these details, one of the men turned his
head and observed me, and for a moment seemed paralysed with
astonishment; but he presently rose slowly, still staring at me, and
reaching out for his tray, snatched it up, clapped it on his head, and
bolted precipitately down the path. His companions looking round for
the cause of his alarm, also perceived me, and with one accord grabbed
up their loads and fled.
The fact that they had taken their goods made it clear that they had
no intention of returning, so I sauntered up to the fire and examined
it. More than a dozen peeled plantains lay on the embers roasting, and
two or three with the skins partially removed had been dropped close
by. Evidently I had frightened the poor fellows away from their
breakfast, and if my conscience reproached me a little, I allowed the
recollection of the bunches on their trays to allay my qualms, and
licked my lips at the prospect of a meal of cooked food. Pursuing my
way along the track I soon distinguished the murmur of water ahead,
and presently came to a place where the path divided into two.
Following the left-hand branch, a few paces brought me to a shelving
hard or landing-place--possibly a ford in the dry season--apparently
at the foot of the rapids, for above this spot the water came foaming
down among scattered rocks, while below the channel was almost clear.
I walked some distance along the bank to make sure that there were no
more rapids below, and having ascertained that the river seemed to
have resumed its normal course, I made my way back towards the canoe,
gathering up the roasted plantains as I went. But the existence of the
ford below suggested the probability of another farther up, so before
returning to the canoe, I explored the road in that direction; and to
my unbounded satisfaction came presently to a side path leading down a
gentle incline to the water.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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