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He had never for a moment believed in Gautier's story, but had still less dreamed of such a daring outrage as was now being perpetrated. He had not long to wait for developments. Directly the two men were inside, and the door was again closed, Retief pointed to the money-lender. "Hustle, boys the rope. Lash his feet."
This Heer Quatermain, an Englishman, was with the Governor Retief at the town of the Zulu king, as the Heer Henri Marais can testify. Now, as we know for sure Pieter Retief and all his people are dead, murdered by Dingaan, how then does it happen that this man has escaped?" "Why do you put riddles to me, Mynheer Pereira?" asked the dark Boer. "Doubtless the Englishman will explain."
They say different." He whirled, stared at Retief. "I have pretty good assurance that once I put it over, the Corps will have to recognize me as the legal government of Petreac. They won't meddle in internal affairs." "Nonsense," Magnan spoke up. "The Corps will never deal with a pack of criminals calling themselves " "Watch your language, you!" Zorn rasped. "I'll admit Mr.
"Does Zorn know you've got your tower rigged for suckers?" "You tryin' to call me a cheat or something?" The crowd had fallen back, ringing the two men. Bullet-head glanced around. With a lightning motion, he plucked a knife from somewhere. "That'll be five hundred credits for the equipment," he said. "Nobody calls Kippy a cheat." Retief picked up the broken lever.
"Hernan Pereira," said Retief, rubbing his broad forehead, "I don't quite know why it is, but no one seems to want you as a companion. Indeed, to speak truth, I don't myself. Still, I think you would be safer with me than with these others whom you seem to have offended. Therefore, I suggest that you come on with us.
There was the treacherous massacre of Retief and Potgeiter and his party by the Zulu king Dingaan at his military kraal, followed by other wholesale massacres of men, women, and children at Weenen and other Boer camps in Natal.
"Not altogether, Macumazahn," he answered, letting his eyes, those strange eyes that could look at the sun without blinking, fall before my gaze. "Have I not told you that I hate the House of Senzangakona? And when Retief and his companions were killed, did not the spilling of their blood mean war to the end between the Zulus and the White Men?
They worked harder now, heaving against the stiff levers. The tower quivered, moved slowly toward their side. "I'm exhausted," Magnan gasped. He dropped the lever, lolled back in the chair, gulping air. Retief shifted position, took Magnan's lever with his left hand. "Shift it to middle gear," Retief said. Magnan gulped, punched the button and slumped back, panting. "My arm," he said.
The half-breed promptly dictated, and the other wrote. The compulsion was exasperating, and the great man scrawled with all the pettishness of a child. The message read "Retief is here. I am a prisoner. Follow up with all speed." "Now sign," said the Breed, when the message was written. Lablache signed and flung down the pen. "What's that for?" he demanded huskily. "For?" His captor shrugged.
He sniffed at his dope-stick. "What's keeping Shoke?" he muttered. Magnan stepped to a tall glass door, eased it open and poked his head through the heavy draperies. As he moved to draw back, a voice was faintly audible. Magnan paused, head still through the drapes. "What's going on there?" Zorn rasped. He and Retief stepped up behind Magnan. " breath of air, ha-ha," Magnan was saying.
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