Adventure stories; Fantasy fiction, English; Quatermain, Allan (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
Hans rolled his little yellow eyes without even turning his head until
they rested on the stately countenance of Harût, and answered in Bantu:
“I hear, Liar-with-the-White-Beard, but what have I to do with this
matter? Jana is my enemy who would have killed Macumazana, my master,
not your dirty snake. What is the good of this snake of yours? If it
were any good, why does it not kill Jana whom you hate? And if it is no
good, why do you not take a stick and knock it on the head? If you are
afraid I will do so for you if you pay me. That for your snake,” and
very energetically he spat upon the floor.
“All right,” said Harût, still speaking in English, “you go kill snake.
Go when you like, no one say no. Then we give you new name. Then we
call you Lord-of-the-Snake.”
As Hans, who now was engaged in lighting his corn-cob pipe, did not
deign to answer these remarks, Harût turned to me and said:
“Lord Macumazana, your leg still bad, eh? Well, I bring you some
ointment what make it quite well; it holy ointment come from the Child.
We want you get well quick.”
Then suddenly he broke into Bantu. “My Lord, war draws near. The Black
Kendah are gathering all their strength to attack us and we must have
your aid. I go down to the River Tava to see to certain matters, as to
the reaping of the outlying crops and other things. Within a week I
will be back; then we must talk again, for by that time, if you will
use the ointment that I have given you, you will be as well as ever you
were in your life. Rub it on your leg, and mix a piece as large as a
mealie grain in water and swallow it at night. It is not poison, see,”
and taking the cover off a little earthenware pot which he produced he
scooped from it with his finger some of the contents, which looked like
lard, put it on his tongue and swallowed it.
Then he rose and departed with his usual bows.
Here I may state that I used Harût’s prescription with the most
excellent results. That night I took a dose in water, very nasty it
was, and rubbed my leg with the stuff, to find that next morning all
pain had left me and that, except for some local weakness, I was
practically quite well. I kept the rest of the salve for years, and it
proved a perfect specific in cases of sciatica and rheumatism. Now,
alas! it is all used and no recipe is available from which it can be
made up again.
The next few days passed uneventfully. As soon as I could walk I began
to go about the town, which was nothing but a scattered village much
resembling those to be seen on the eastern coasts of Africa. Nearly all
the men seemed to be away, making preparations for the harvest, I
suppose, and as the women shut themselves up in their houses after the
Oriental fashion, though the few that I saw about were unveiled and
rather good-looking, I did not gather any intelligence worth noting.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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