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Updated: July 1, 2025
Two Swedes, Carl Jenssen and Sven Malbihn, after three years of following false leads at last gave up the search far to the south of the Sahara to turn their attention to the more profitable business of ivory poaching. In a great district they were already known for their relentless cruelty and their greed for ivory. The natives feared and hated them.
Jack leaped behind a tree, unhit. Days of panic ridden flight through the jungle had filled Carl Jenssen and Sven Malbihn with jangling nerves and their native boys with unreasoning terror. Every new note from behind sounded to their frightened ears the coming of The Sheik and his bloodthirsty entourage.
But long before Sven Hedin and his friends had begun their campaign, the ground had been prepared from Berlin, the work of interpenetration had made great headway, and Germany was regarded by Sweden as an elder sister. For the economic invasion preceded the political.
When he had gone, Sven Anderssen turned toward Lady Greystoke the idiotic expression that had masked his thoughts had fallen away, and in its place was one of craft and cunning. "Hay tank Ay ban a fool," he said. "Hay ben the fool. Ay savvy Franch." Jane Clayton looked at him in surprise. "You understood all that he said, then?" Anderssen grinned. "You bat," he said.
Sven Malbihn released his hold upon the girl and turned toward his companion. His face was red with mortification. "What the devil are you trying to do?" growled Jenssen. "Would you throw away every chance for the reward? If we maltreat her we not only couldn't collect a sou, but they'd send us to prison for our pains. I thought you had more sense, Malbihn."
They were Carl Jenssen and Sven Malbihn, but little altered in appearance since the day, years before, that they and their safari had been so badly frightened by Korak and Akut as the former sought haven with them. Every year had they come into the jungle to trade with the natives, or to rob them; to hunt and trap; or to guide other white men in the land they knew so well.
"It's not a matter of virtue and you are as well aware of that as I. I don't want to quarrel with you, but so help me God, Sven, you're not going to harm this girl if I have to kill you to prevent it.
"Do you call this revenge, Ingmar?" asked Gertrude, in dismay. "What else should I call it? Why didn't you bring me this money at once?" "I wanted to wait until the day of your wedding." "If you had only come before, I'm sure I could have bought back the farm from Berger Sven Persson, and then I would have married you." "Yes, I knew that." "And yet you come on my wedding day, when it's too late!"
Ay tank the chief ban friendly to white men the Mosula tal me he ban. Anyhow, that was all we can do. "After while you get chief to tak you down by the Mosula village at the sea again, an' after a while a ship is sure to put into the mouth of the Ugambi. Then you be all right. Gude-by an' gude luck to you, lady!" "But where are you going, Sven?" asked Jane.
In the middle of his monologue Berger Sven Persson glanced over at Halvor, who sat at the table, looking glum and sulky, his coffee cup untouched. "It's pretty rough on him," thought Berger Sven Persson, "particularly if there's any truth in what people say about his having given Elof a little lift on his way into the next world.
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