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Buchan, John, 1875-1940

"The Half-Hearted"

"
The plan of the place was clear in Lewis's brain. He remembered each
detail. The long nullah on which he had looked from the hill-tops had,
then, an outlet, and did not end, as he had guessed, in a dead wall of
rock. Fool and blind! to have missed so glorious a chance!
He stood staring dumbly around him, unconscious that he was the
laughingstock of all. Then he looked at the chief.
"Am I your prisoner?" he asked hoarsely.
"Nay," said the other good-humouredly, "thou art free. We have
over-much work on hand to-day to be saddled with captives."
"Then where is Nazri?" he asked.
The chief laughed a loud laugh of tolerant amusement. "Hear to the bold
one," he cried. "He will not miss the great spectacle. See, I will
show you the road," and he pointed out certain landmarks. "For one of
my own people it is a journey of four hours; for thee it will be
something more. But hurry, and haply the game will not have begun. If
the northern men take thee I will buy thy life."
Four hours; the words rang in his brain like a sentence. He had no
hope, but a wild craving to attempt the hopeless. George might have
returned to Nazri to wait; it was the sort of docile thing that George
would do. In any case not five miles from Nazri was the end of the
north road and a little telegraph hut used by the Khautmi forts. The
night would be full moonlight; and by night the army would come.


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