United States or Montenegro ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Even a hint of familiarity with lower echelons could mean the failure of the mission. Let us remember that the Nenni represent authority here on Petreac. Their traditions must be observed, whatever our personal preferences. Let's go along now. The Potentate will be making his entrance any moment." Magnan came to Retief's side as they moved toward the salon.
The broad-shouldered man glanced at a meter. "You took pretty near a full jolt, that time," he said. The hole in the globe was tracing an oblique course now, swinging to the center, then below. "A little longer," Magnan said. "That's the best speed I ever seen on the Slam ball," someone said. "How much longer can he hold it?" Magnan looked at Retief's knuckles. They showed white against the grip.
The river section of the perimeter lies on the Basuto border, and the mountain section is wild and difficult, there being but four wagon roads into it in nearly seventy-five miles: at Commando, Slabbert's, Retief's, and Naauwpoort Neks. The passes at Witnek, Nelspoort, and the Golden Gate are scarcely better than rough bridle-paths.
The attack of the last twenty-four hours had been made against him alone; at least, so Lablache understood it. Retief's efforts were only in his direction; the raider had robbed him of twenty thousand head of cattle; he had burnt his beautiful ranch out, in sheer wantonness it seemed to the despairing man; what then would be his next move if he were not stopped?
Two of the men with knives came to Retief's side and gestured, grinning broadly. "Let's go, peacocks," one said. Retief and Magnan silently crossed the kitchen, went out the back door, stopped on command and stood waiting. The sky was brilliant with stars. A gentle breeze stirred the tree-tops beyond the garden. Behind them the servants talked in low voices.
Cattle can't be spirited away. Unless, of course but no, a man don't duff cattle to drown 'em in a swamp. They've crossed this pernicious mire, boys. We may nab our friend, Retief, but we'll never clap eyes on those beasts." "It's the same old business over again, sergeant," said one of the troopers. "I was on this job before, and I reckon we landed hereabouts every time we lit on Retief's trail.
Her companion still seemed dense. "Golden Eagle?" he repeated questioningly. "Golden Eagle?" The name seemed familiar but he failed to comprehend. "Yes, yes," the girl broke out impatiently. "Golden Eagle Peter Retief's horse. The grandest beast that ever stepped the prairie. See, he is keeping watch over his master's old hiding-place faithful faithful to the memory of the dead."
A bearer with a tray of drinks rounded a fluted column, shied as he confronted the diplomats, fumbled the tray, grabbed and sent a glass crashing to the floor. Magnan leaped back, slapping at the purple cloth of his pants leg. Retief's hand shot out to steady the tray. The servant rolled terrified eyes. "I'll take one of these, now that you're here," Retief said.
Then, taking a bullet from Retief's hand, he rammed that down on to the top of it, capped the gun, and handed it to me. By now the geese were coming thick, for the flight was at its full.
Their night march was performed under great difficulties, the men crawling on hands and knees along a rocky path with a drop of 400 feet upon one side. But their exertions were greatly rewarded. Upon the success of their turning movement depended the fall of Slabbert's Nek. Retief's Nek was untenable if we held Slabbert's Nek, and if both were in our hands the retreat of Prinsloo was cut off.
Word Of The Day