Adventure stories; Fantasy fiction, English; Quatermain, Allan (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
“Macumazana, these words are what I expected from you. Had any other
man spoken them I should have declared that he was quite mad. But I
remember that I said this when you determined to visit the Pongo, and
that you came back from their country safe and sound, having done
wonderful things there, and that it was the Pongo who suffered, not
you. So I believe it will be again, so far as you are concerned,
Macumazana, for I think that some devil goes with you who looks after
his own. For the others I do not know. They must settle the matter with
their own devils, or with those of the Kendah people. Now farewell,
Macumazana, for it comes to me that we shall meet no more. Well, that
happens to all at last, and it is good to have known you who are so
great in your own way. Often I shall think of you as you will think of
me, and hope that in a country beyond that of the Kendah I may hear
from your lips all that has befallen you on this and other journeys.
Now I go to withdraw my men before these white-robed Arabs come on
their strange beasts to seize you, lest they should take us also and
there should be a fight in which we, being the fewer, must die. The
loads are all in order ready to be laden on their strange beasts. If
they declare that the horses cannot cross the desert, leave them loose
and we will catch them and take them home with us, and since they are
male and female, breed young ones from them which shall be yours when
you send for them, or Bausi the king’s if you never send. Nay, I want
no more presents who have the gun and the powder and the bullets you
gave me, and the tusks of ivory for Bausi the king, and what is best of
all, the memory of you and of your courage and wisdom. May these and
the gods you worship befriend you. From yonder hill we will watch till
we see that you have gone. Farewell,” and waiting for no answer, he
departed with the tears running from his solitary eye.
Ten minutes later the Mazitu bearers had also saluted us and gone,
leaving us seated in that deserted camp surrounded by our baggage, and
so far as I was concerned, feeling most lonely. Another ten minutes
went by which we occupied in packing our personal belongings. Then
Hans, who was now washing out the coffee kettle at a little distance,
looked up and said:
“Here come the spook-men, Baas, the whole regiment of them.” We ran and
looked. It was true. Marshalled in orderly squadrons, the camels with
their riders were sweeping towards us, and a fine sight the beasts made
with their swaying necks and long, lurching gait. About fifty yards
away they halted just where the stream from our spring entered the
desert, and there proceeded to water the camels, twenty of them at a
time. Two men, however, in whom I recognized Harût and Marût, walked
forward and presently were standing before us, bowing obsequiously.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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