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‘The answer will be as God wills. Go.’
Mrs. Benson disappeared below stairs, where she regaled the injured boot-and-knife boy and the female servants with the first instalment of what was destined to be the most dramatic and sensational serial story ever told at the Manor House.
Andy shuffled in his chair. “They’re your claws, William—they’re on your premises—”
My friend was busy packing a minute suitcase, with quick, deft movements. He shook his head thoughtfully.
Mombas on the north, like Kilua on the south, are the two largest garrison towns belonging to the Sultan on the main shores. They each have a Wali or governor, custom officers, and a Beluch guard; and have certain attractions to the antiquarian in the shape of Portuguese ruins. We left our traps here to be housed by a Banyan called Lakshmidos, the collector of customs,3 and started on the 17th January to visit Mr Rebmann, beyond the hills overlooking this place. It was a good day’s work, and was commenced by rowing about ten miles up the Rabbai branch of the creek we were in, until we arrived at the foot of the hills bearing the same name, beyond which his house stands. This inlet was fringed with such dense masses of the mangrove shrub, on which clung countless numbers of small tree-oysters,— adhering to their branches in clusters, and looking as though they subsisted thereon after the manner of orchidaceous plants,— that we could obtain no view whatever, save of the hills towering to the height of some ten hundred or twelve hundred feet above us. The water-journey over, we commenced the ascent of Rabbai, and, soon crowning it by a steep slope, passed into the country of the Wanyika, the first true negro tribe of my acquaintance, and by a gentle decline passing through quiet little villages, we entered, after a walk of five miles, the Kisuludini mission-house, and there found Mr Rebmann, with his amiable English wife, living in their peaceful retreat. They gave us a free and cordial welcome and comfortable lodging, and supplied us with all the delicacies of a dry Wanyika season, for there was now a drought in the land, and consequently a famine. So hard were the times for the unfortunate negroes, that they were forced against their wills to support the bulk of their families by the sale of some of its junior members to keep themselves alive.
Zopyrus was swept on by the barbarian host. A shower of missiles diminished the number of Greeks and soon the enemy was upon them and the battle continued with spear and sword. Zopyrus received a slight wound on the left shoulder, the Greek inflicting the injury snatching away his spear. Zopyrus quickly unsheathed his sword, pressing his opponent to closer combat as a better chance for self defense. The two fought long over the bodies of Persian and Greek who now lay in inevitable amity beside their once ruthless foe. At length the Greek who was little more than a boy, weakened perceptibly and in an unguarded moment Zopyrus’ sword disappeared up to the hilt. As the lad fell his helmet rolled off revealing a countenance of incomparable beauty; deep-set eyes, brows that nearly met above a straight nose, refined mouth and a contour of cheek and chin that was flawless. All this was revealed to Zopyrus in a second’s time, but it left an indelible impression on his mind. As he pressed on he felt that the horrors of war were crazing him, and his soul cried out against the awful brutality of it.
After that I watched the small worker gather material with new interest, knowing where she was going to put it. She worked fast, but did not take the first thing she found, by any means. With a flit of the wing she went in nervous haste from cockle to cockle, looking eagerly about her. Jumping down to the ground, she picked up a bit of grass, threw it down dissatisfied, and turned away like a person looking for something. At last she lit on the side of a thistle, and tweaking out a fibre flew with it to the nest.
He showed me the grape vines trained from tree to tree in Tuscan fashion; the lines of berry bushes, and the endless ribbon of perennial flowers that made the final border of the pathway. On its inner side were beds of violets, lilies of the valley, and thick ferns; and around each fountain were groups of lilies and water-loving plants.
“It counts with a foolish old woman whom you have captivated,” replied Mademoiselle, with her wriggling laugh.
She did so, mechanically, while he seated himself on the stool.
heard a light tap at the door, and a low voice saying, ‘May I come
“You see that hill?” asked the senorita, pointing to a low mound back of the ranch. “On top of that hill is a barrel which is half full of tar. I have been using it to repair my roofs, and it is half full. If that could only be lighted they would see it at Ned’s ranch.”
“Tut, tut, tut!”
"Strong," commented Dick, "but queer-looking. He'll have trouble keeping warm with that short coat."详情 ➢
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