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Updated: June 27, 2025
Do you want any errand down in town? I'm going out for a stramble. A party always has to be walked off next morning." "And talked off, doesn't it? I'm afraid my errand would need to be with Mrs. Goldthwaite or Mrs. Hadden, wouldn't it?" "Well, I dare say I shall go in and see Leslie. Rosamond, why can't you come too? It's a sort of nuisance that boy having come home!"
Carthew here is a gentleman, and we don't mean to do that class of business. Can't you see who you are talking to? Can't you talk sense? Can't you give us 'a dead bird' for a good traderoom?" "No, I don't suppose I can," returned old Bostock; "not when I can't hear my own voice for two seconds together. It was gin and guns I did it with." "Take your gin and guns to Putney," cried Hadden.
"It's better than a boat, anyway," said Hadden. "I've had my bellyful of boat." "What kills me is that specie!" the captain broke out. "Think of all that riches four thousand in gold, bad silver, and short bills all found money too! and no more use than that much dung!" "I'll tell you one thing," said Tommy. "I don't like it being in the boat I don't care to have it so far away."
These reasons making his return to civilisation undesirable for the moment, and further business being impossible until he could receive a fresh supply of trade stuff, Hadden like a wise man turned his thoughts to pleasure.
"That is Emagudu, the Home of the Dead and look, the bull heads thither." Hadden glanced round him. It was true; yonder to the left were the Fall, the Pool of Doom, and the hut of the Bee. "Very well," he answered; "then we must head for it too." Nahoon halted. "Surely you would not enter there," he exclaimed.
"She's lost! she's lost!" cried John Hadden, in a tone of pity. Over went the boat; nor she, nor her crew, nor the box of gold were ever seen again. The ship was soon got afloat, and was brought by John Hadden and his brave sons into harbour. They gained a large sum for saving the ship. "I told you," said John to his sons, "do right, whatever comes of it.
So they set themselves to make fast Nahoon's hands and wrists, using as much gentleness as they might, for among the Zulus a lunatic is accounted holy. It was no easy task, and it took time. Hadden glanced around him, and saw his opportunity. On the ground close beside him lay his rifle, where one of the soldiers had placed it, and about a dozen yards away Maputa's pony was grazing.
With a shout of consternation they rushed forward to see the bull vanish over the rise before Hadden could get a chance of firing at him, and to find their companion dying, for the great horn had pierced his lung. "It is not a buffalo, it is a devil," the poor fellow gasped, and expired. "Devil or not, I mean to kill it," exclaimed Hadden.
"Talking of political economy," said he, "you said if there were two of us to bear the expense, the profits would increase. How do you make out that?" "I'll show you! I'll figure it out for you!" cried Hadden, and with a pencil on the back of the bill of fare proceeded to perform miracles. He was a man, or let us rather say a lad, of unusual projective power.
She was dropping, little by little, in the reality of a better desire, that "satisfaction" Jeannie Hadden had spoken of, of "knowing when one is at one's prettiest," or doing one's cleverest. The "leaf and the fruit" never fitted better in their significance than to Sin Saxon. Something intenser and more truly living was taking the place of the mere flutter and flash and grace of effect.
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