Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 17, 2025
How can it be locked, inside, when Beatrice is here? Heaven only knows! There may be enemies in there at this minute. H'yemba may be there " Anguish pierced his soul at thought of his son now possibly in the smith's power. "By God!" he cried, "something has got to be done, and quick!" His rage was growing by leaps and bounds.
His real personality, his true ego, was absolutely absorbed in the one vital, all-deciding problem of that stiffening pistol-hand. Suddenly something seemed to cry in his ear: "You have it now! Fire!" His hand leaped back with the crashing discharge, loud-echoing in the cave. H'yemba did not even yell.
"Even the death of H'yemba! Let him be cast from the parapet to death in the white rushing river far below!" All echoed the cry: "Death to all traitors, from the rock!" "So be it, then," Stern concluded. "Ye have spoken, and it shall be written as a Law. From Execution Rock shall all conspirators be cast. Now go!" He dismissed them.
"When I have slept I shall speak with you. Now I go to rest. Await me, for the day of your deliverance is at hand!" A face caught his attention, a sinister and, brutal face, doubly ominous in the flaring cresset-glare. He knew the man H'yemba, the cunning ironsmith, one who in other days had before now crossed his will and, dog-like, snarled as much as he had dared.
Stern, very wise by now in gauging the barbarian mentality, undertook no direct punishment of such as had been led away by H'yemba. But he gathered all the Folk together in the palisade, and there close to the mutely eloquent object-lesson of the little cemetery he made them a charweg, a talk in their own speech.
His brows contracted, and on his heart it seemed as though a gripping hand had suddenly laid hold. "H'yemba, the smith, again! Damn him! H'yemba!" he muttered, in sudden anger strongly tinged with fear. The smith, in fact, was standing there a little to the left of him, huge and sinewed hands loosely clasped in front of him, face sinister, eyes glowing like two malevolent evil fires.
The Pauillac had been brought along the road from Newport Heights and housed there. This road passed through strong gates of hewn planks hinged with well-wrought ironwork forged by some of the Folk under the direction of H'yemba, the smith. For H'yemba, be it known, had been brought up by Stern early in December.
A rotten breed, truly! And we die! "But listen now. This shall not be! I, H'yemba, the smith, the strongest of all, will not permit it. I will be ruler here, if any live to be ruled! And you shall be my serving-maid your son my slave!" Aghast, struck dumb by this wild tempest of rebellion, Beatrice recoiled. His face showed like a white blur in the gloom. "Allan!" she gasped. "My Allan "
In the excitement of the past hours she had forgotten to buckle it on. She was unarmed. H'yemba already grasped for her, to force her down upon the floor, kneeling to him to make her call him master. Already his strong and hairy fingers had all but seized her robe. But she, lithe and agile, evaded the grip. To the fire she sprang. She caught up a flaming stick that lay upon the hearth.
But now, he dimly realized, was no time for solving problems. The minute demanded swift and drastic action. He must find, must save, his son! After that other riddles could he unraveled. "H'yemba!" he cried hoarsely. "This is H'yemba's work! Revenge and hate have driven him to rebel again. To try to seize Beatrice! To steal my son! At this time of peril and affliction, above all others! H'yemba!
Word Of The Day
Others Looking