Adventure stories; Fantasy fiction, English; Quatermain, Allan (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
Thus we covered hundreds of miles, not less than five hundred at the
least, reckoning our progress at only thirty miles a day, including
stoppages. For occasionally we stopped at the water-holes or small
oases, where the camels drank and rested. Indeed, these were so
conveniently arranged that I came to the conclusion that once there
must have been some established route running across these wastelands
to the south, of which the traditional knowledge remained with the
Kendah people. If so, it had not been used for generations, for save
those of one or two that had died on the outward march, we saw no
skeletons of camels or other beasts, or indeed any sign of man. The
place was an absolute wilderness where nothing lived except a few small
mammals at the oases and the birds that passed over it in the air on
their way to more fertile regions. Of these, by the way, I saw many
that are known both to Europe and Africa, especially ducks and cranes;
also storks that, for aught I can say, may have come from far-off,
homely Holland.
At last the character of the country began to change. Grass appeared on
its lower-lying stretches, then bushes, then occasional trees and among
the trees a few buck. Halting the caravan I crept out and shot two of
these buck with a right and left, a feat that caused our grave escort
to stare in a fashion which showed me that they had never seen anything
of the sort done before.
That night, while we were eating the venison with relish, since it was
the first fresh meat that we had tasted for many a day, I observed that
the disposition of our camp was different from its common form. Thus it
was smaller and placed on an eminence. Also the camels were not allowed
to graze where they would as usual, but were kept within a limited area
while their riders were arranged in groups outside of them. Further,
the stores were piled near our tents, in the centre, with guards set
over them. I asked Harût and Marût, who were sharing our meal, the
reason of these alterations.
“It is because we are on the borders of the Kendah country,” answered
old Harût. “Four days’ more march will bring us there, Macumazana.”
“Then why should you take precautions against your own people? Surely
they will welcome you.”
“With spears perhaps. Macumazana, learn that the Kendah are not one but
two people. As you may have heard before, we are the White Kendah, but
there are also Black Kendah who outnumber us many times over, though in
the beginning we from the north conquered them, or so says our history.
The White Kendah have their own territory; but as there is no other
road, to reach it we must pass through that of the Black Kendah, where
it is always possible that we may be attacked, especially as we bring
strangers into the land.”
“How is it then that the Black Kendah allow you to live at all, Harût,
if they are so much the more numerous?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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