Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Swallow: A Tale of the Great Trek by H. Rider Haggard (early readers .TXT) 📖
- Author: H. Rider Haggard
Book online «Swallow: A Tale of the Great Trek by H. Rider Haggard (early readers .TXT) 📖». Author H. Rider Haggard
Suzanne sat down and looked, and there, yes, there the caps of the waggons gleamed in the fading light; and oh! her heart leapt at the sight of them, for in those waggons were white men and women such as she had not seen for years, and with whom at length she would be safe. But even as her breast heaved at the thought of it, an icy, unnatural wind seemed to stir her hair, and of a sudden she felt, or seemed to feel, the presence of Sihamba. For a moment, and one only, it was with her, then it was gone, nor during all her life did it ever come back again.
“Oh! Sihamba is dead!” she cried.
Zinti looked at her in question.
“It may well be so,” he said sadly, “but I pray that it is not so, for she is the best of chieftainesses. At least we have our own lives to save, so let us go on,” and again they pressed forward through the gathering gloom.
Soon it grew dark, and had her guide been any other man than Zinti Suzanne must have stopped where she was till the moon rose at midnight. But Zinti could find any path that his feet had trod even in the dark; yes, although it ran through piled-up rocks on the mountain side, and was cut with the course of streams which must be forded.
In wading through one of these rivulets, Suzanne struck her bare ankle against a stone and lamed herself, so that from this time forward, shivering and wet with water, for her hurt was so sharp and sudden that she had fallen in the stream, she was forced to walk leaning on Zinti’s shoulder, and indeed over some rough places he was obliged to carry her. Now again Zinti wished to abandon that heavy child, for strong though he was the weight of the two of them proved almost more than he could bear, but Suzanne would not listen to him.
“Nay,” she said, “this child that was sent to me by Heaven has saved me from shame and death, and shame and death be my portion if I will leave it while I live. Go on alone if you will, Zinti, and I will stay here with the child.”
“Truly white people are strange,” answered Zinti, “that they should wish to burden themselves with the child of another when their own lives are at stake, but be it as you will, lady,” and he struggled forward as best he could, carrying the one and supporting the other.
Thus for hour after hour, slowly they crept onward with only the stars to light and guide them, till at length about midnight the moon rose and they saw that they were near the foot of the mountain. Now they rested awhile, but not long enough to grow stiff, then hastening down the slope they reached the plain, and headed for the white-topped koppie which shone in the moonlight some six miles away. On they crept, Suzanne now limping painfully, for her ankle had begun to swell, and now crawling upon her hands and knees, for Zinti had no longer the strength to carry her and the child. Thus they covered three miles in perhaps as many hours. At last, with something like a sob, Suzanne sank to the earth.
“Zinti, I can walk no more,” she said. “Either I must rest or die.”
He looked at her and saw that she spoke truth, for she was quite outworn.
“Is it so?” he said, “then we must stay here till the morning, nor do I think that you will take hurt, for Bull-Head will scarcely care to cross that pass by night.”
Suzanne shook her head and answered:
“He will have begun to climb it at the rising of the moon. Hear me, Zinti. The Boer camp is close and you still have some strength left; take the child and go to it, and having gained an entrance in this way or in that tell them my plight and they will ride out and save me.”
“That is a good thought,” he said; “but, lady, I do not like to leave you alone, since here there is no place for you to hide.”
“You could not help me if you stayed, Zinti, therefore go, for the sooner you are gone, the sooner I shall be rescued.”
“I hear your command, lady,” he answered, and having given her most of the food that was left, he fastened the sleeping child upon his shoulder and walked forward up the rise.
In something less than an hour Zinti came to the camp, which was formed of unlaagered waggons and tents pitched at the foot of a koppie, along one base of which ran the river. About fifty yards in front of the camp stood a single buck-waggon, and near to it sill glowed the embers of a cooking-fire.
“Now if I try to pass that waggon those who watch by it will shoot at me,” thought Zinti, though, indeed, he need have had no fear, for they were but camp-Kaffirs who slept soundly.
Not knowing this, however, he stood at a distance and called aloud, till at last a Hottentot crept out with a gun, and, throwing back the blanket from his head, asked who he was and what he wanted.
“I want to see the Baas of the camp,” he answered, “for my mistress, a white woman, lies exhausted upon the veldt not far away and seeks his help.”
“If you want to see the Baas,” yawned the man, “you must wait till daylight when he wakes up.”
“I cannot wait,” answered Zinti, and he made as though to pass towards the camp, whereupon the man raised his gun and covered him, saying:
“If you go on I will shoot you, for stray Kaffir dogs are not allowed to prowl about the camp at night.”
“What then must I do?” asked Zinti.
“You can go away, or if you will you may sit by the waggon here till it is light, and then when the Boers, my masters, wake up you can tell your story, of which I believe nothing.”
So, having no choice, Zinti sat down by the waggon and waited, while the man with the gun watched him, pretending to be asleep all the while.
Now Suzanne was left alone upon the great veldt, and fear took hold of her, for she was broken in body and mind, and the place was very desolate; also she dreaded lest lions should take her, for she could hear them roaring in the distance, or Swart Piet, who was worse than any lion. Still she was so weary that after washing her face and hands in a spring close by, presently she fell asleep. When she awoke the east was tinged with the first grey light of the coming dawn, and it seemed to her as though some cold hand of fear had gripped her heart of a sudden and aroused her from heavy sleep. A sound caused her to look up, and there on the crest of the rise before her, some three hundred yards away, she saw dark forms moving, and caught sight of spears that glimmered in the moonlight.
“Now there is an end,” thought Suzanne to herself, “for without doubt yonder stands a Zulu impi; the same that attacked the Umpondwana, for I can see the crane’s feathers in their head-dresses,” and she crouched upon the ground in an extremity of dread.
RALPH FINDS THE DREAM MOUNTAIN
Now I must go back to that evening when we learned the great tidings from the lips of the lad Gaasha, whose life Ralph had saved after the attack by the Kaffirs upon the laager. There sat Gaasha on the ground staring, and there, not far away, Ralph was lying in his swoon, while Jan and I looked at each other like people who have suddenly beheld a sign from heaven.
“What evil magic is there in my words,” said Gaasha presently, “that they should strike the Baas yonder dead like a spear?”
“He is not dead,” I answered, “but for long he has sought that mountain Umpondwana of which you speak. Tell us now, did you hear of any white woman dwelling with the chieftainess Sihamba?”
“No, lady, I heard of none.”
This answer of Gaasha’s saddened me, for I made sure that if so strange a thing had happened as that a white woman had come to live among his tribe, the man who told him of the return of Sihamba would have told him of this also. Therefore, so I argued, either Suzanne was dead or she was in the power of Piet Van Vooren, or Sihamba had deserted her, though this last I did not believe. As it turned out afterwards, had not Gaasha been the stupidest of Kaffirs, we should have been saved those long days of doubt and trouble, for though he had not heard that Sihamba was accompanied by a white woman, he had heard that she brought with her a white bird to the mountain Umpondwana. Of course if he had told us this we should have guessed that the white bird could be none other than Suzanne, whose native name was Swallow.
Well, we set about reviving Ralph, which was done by throwing water on to his face. When he had found his senses again I prayed him not to suffer himself to be carried away with hope, since although Gaasha had heard of Sihamba, he had heard nothing of Suzanne.
To this he answered that now when God had pointed out to him the mountain of his vision and in so strange a manner, he had no fear but that he would find his wife upon it, since God was merciful and did not desire to mock or torment His servants.
I replied that I trusted it might be so, but the ways of the Almighty were beyond our understanding, nor did it become us to pass judgment upon them. Ralph scarcely heeded my words, but, springing to his feet, said:
“Come, let us be going to the mountain Umpondwana.”
“First we must consult with the commandant and get aid from him,” said Jan, “for it would not be safe that we should wander into these wild places alone, where there are many Kaffirs who doubtless would murder us.”
In his eagerness Ralph would not listen to this, for he desired to start at once. But I pointed out to him that we had no horses, all ours being dead of the sickness; moreover, that the night was dark, and we could not trek till the moon rose, so at length he consented. Then we went into the laager, and Jan called the older men together in a quiet place.
“What is it, Heer Botmar?” asked the commandant when they were assembled.
“It is this, cousin,” said Jan. “I desire to ask you to go a three days’ trek out of your march to a mountain called Umpondwana, whither this servant of mine, Gaasha, can guide you.”
“For what reason?” asked the commandant astonished.
“Friend,” said Jan, “you have all of you heard the story of how that outcast devil Piet Van Vooren, stole away my only child, Suzanne, the wife of Ralph Kenzie the Englishman here.”
“That is an old tale,” said the commandant, “and, doubtless, the poor girl is dead long ago; why then do you speak of it now, and what has it to do with your request that we should trek to the mountain Umpondwana?”
“Only this, cousin; we think that my daughter Suzanne is living there among the Kaffirs, and we seek to rescue her. At least this is certain, for only now we have learnt it from the lips of Gaasha that Sihamba, her friend and servant whom we believe was with her, rules over this tribe as chieftainess.”
“That may be so,” said the commandant, “but did Gaasha tell you that your daughter was there also?”
“No,” answered Jan.
“Then how do you know it?”
Now Jan hesitated and turned red as he replied:
“We know it because Ralph Kenzie here saw this very mountain in a vision more than two years ago, and in that vision was told that there he would find the wife who was taken from him on his marriage day.”
Now, on hearing this most of the Boers broke out laughing, for, though very religious, we are not a people who place faith in visions. Thereupon I grew angry, and spoke to them more strongly, perhaps, than I should have
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