Adventure stories; Fantasy fiction, English; Quatermain, Allan (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
This was the manner of our march: A mile or so ahead of us went a
picket of eight or ten men mounted on the swiftest beasts, doubtless to
give warning of any danger. Next, three or four hundred yards away,
followed a body of about fifty Kendah, travelling in a double line, and
behind these the baggage men, mounted like everyone else, and leading
behind them strings of camels laden with water, provisions, tents of
skin and all our goods, including the fifty rifles and the ammunition
that Ragnall had brought from England. Then came we three white men and
Hans, each of us riding as swift and fine a camel as Africa can breed.
On our right at a distance of about half a mile, and also on our left,
travelled other bodies of the Kendah of the same numerical strength as
that ahead, while the rear was brought up by the remainder of the
company who drove a number of spare camels.
Thus we journeyed in the centre of a square whence any escape would
have been impossible, for I forgot to say that our keepers Harût and
Marût rode exactly behind us, at such a distance that we could call to
them if we wished.
At first I found this method of travelling very tiring, as does
everyone who is quite unaccustomed to camel-back. Indeed the swing and
the jolt of the swift creature beneath me seemed to wrench my bones
asunder to such an extent that at the beginning I had once or twice to
be lifted from the saddle when, after hours of torture, at length we
camped for the night. Poor Savage suffered even more than I did, for
the motion reduced him to a kind of jelly. Ragnall, however, who I
think had ridden camels before, felt little inconvenience, and the same
may be said of Hans, who rode in all sorts of positions, sometimes
sideways like a lady, and at others kneeling on the saddle like a
monkey on a barrel-organ. Also, being very light and tough as rimpis,
the swaying motion did not seem to affect him.
By degrees all these troubles left us to such an extent that I could
cover my fifty miles a day, more or less, without even feeling tired.
Indeed I grew to like the life in that pure and sparkling desert air,
perhaps because it was so restful. Day after day we journeyed on across
the endless, sandy plain, watching the sun rise, watching it grow high,
watching it sink again. Night after night we ate our simple food with
appetite and slept beneath the glittering stars till the new dawn broke
in glory from the bosom of the immeasurable East.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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