He stood with his back to the boy looking steadily at the
dark line of outlying scrub, seeing in reality nothing, yet keenly
anxious that the red light of the dancing flames should not fall
upon his face. The boy leaned on his elbow and looked in the same
direction. He was puzzled by a fugitive something which he had
seen in Trent's face.
Afterwards Trent liked sometimes to think that it was the sound of
her name which had saved them all. For, whereas his gaze had been
idle at first, it became suddenly fixed and keen. He stooped down
and whispered something to the boy. The word was passed along the
line of sleeping men and one by one they dropped back into the
deep-cut trench. The red fire danced and crackled - only a few
yards outside the flame-lit space came the dark forms of men
creeping through the rough grass like snakes.
CHAPTER XXIX
The attack was a fiasco, the fighting was all over in ten minutes.
A hundred years ago the men of Bekwando, who went naked and knew no
drink more subtle than palm wine had one virtue - bravery. But
civilisation pressing upon their frontiers had brought Oom Sam
greedy for ivory and gold, and Oom Sam had bought rum and strong
waters. The nerve of the savage had gone, and his muscle had become
a flaccid thing.
Pages:
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230