The Little Pilgrim: Further Experiences.: Stories of the Seen and the Unseen.Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Religion
The Little Pilgrim: Further Experiences.: Stories of the Seen and the Unseen.
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Death -- Fiction
It was a long time after this before I ventured to move, for here it
seemed to me that for the moment I was safe,--outside the city, yet not
within reach of the dangers of that intermediate space which grew clearer
before me as my eyes became accustomed to the lurid threatening afternoon
light. One after another the fugitives came flying past me,--people who
had escaped from the armed bands whom I could now see on the watch near
the pit's mouth. I could see too the tactics of these bands,--how they
retired, veiling the lights and the opening, when a greater number than
usual of travellers appeared on the way, and then suddenly widening out,
throwing out flanking lines, surrounded and drew in the unwary. I could
even hear the cries with which their victims disappeared over the opening
which seemed to go down into the bowels of the earth. By and by there
came flying towards me a wretch more dreadful in aspect than any I had
seen. His scanty clothes seemed singed and burned into rags; his hair,
which hung about his face unkempt and uncared for, had the same singed
aspect; his skin was brown and baked. I got up as he approached, and
caught him and threw him to the ground, without heeding his struggles to
get on. 'Don't you see,' he cried with a gasp, 'they may get me again.'
He was one of those who had escaped out of the mines; but what was it to
me whether they caught him again or not? I wanted to know how he had been
caught, and what he had been set to do, and how he had escaped. Why
should I hesitate to use my superior strength when no one else did? I
kept watch over him that he should not get away.
'You have been in the mines?' I said.
'Let me go!' he cried. 'Do you need to ask?' and he cursed me as he
struggled, with the most terrible imprecations. 'They may get me yet.
Let me go!'
'Not till you tell me,' I cried. 'Tell me and I'll protect you. If they
come near I'll let you go. Who are they, man? I must know.'
He struggled up from the ground, clearing his hot eyes from the ashes
that were in them, and putting aside his singed hair. He gave me a glance
of hatred and impotent resistance (for I was stronger than he), and then
cast a wild terrified look back. The skirmishers did not seem to remark
that anybody had escaped, and he became gradually a little more composed.
'Who are they?' he said hoarsely. 'They're cursed wretches like you and
me; and there are as many bands of them as there are mines on the road;
and you'd better turn back and stay where you are. You are safe here.'
'I will not turn back,' I said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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