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Updated: May 20, 2025
"Give the horses to Omrah and Swanevelt. Bremen shall go with us. Hist; not a word; they are looking in this direction." said the Major. "Recollect to try for the large male. I want him most particularly," said Swinton. "Master," said Bremen, "We must creep till we get those bushes between us and the game. Then we can crawl through the bushes and get a good shot."
Old Herresford allowed his daughter only sufficient for her personal needs, which were, naturally, rather extravagant, for she had been reared and had lived always in the atmosphere of wealth. Matters were further complicated by the fact that Mrs. Swinton, though she adored her husband, hated his parish cordially.
"I have come to pay you some money," said Mrs. Swinton quietly, as she unfastened the catch of her muff bag. "Here is a check for seven thousand dollars. It is the sum required by you to make good the discrepancy in my father's account with your bank. He is an old man in his dotage; and, as he repudiates his checks, you must not be the loser."
In the evening the chief took his leave, and went to his own hut. As soon as they were alone, Alexander said to Swinton, "I have now so far fulfilled my promise to my worthy relation that I have seen this descendant of his child; but what am I to do?
A thick-set, burly, bearded man entered, hat in hand, bowed curtly to the rector, and endeavored to bow more ceremoniously to Mrs. Swinton, who stood glaring at him in fear. "Why have you come?" asked the rector. "Well, there's a warrant. It has been reported he was going to skip." "Why have you come so soon? I only received Wise's letter this morning." "It was sent the day before yesterday."
Then, the others stood up together: Ocklebourne, Carnaby, Lorrimer, Bent all except Dick Swinton, the rector's son. The group turned expectant eyes on him, awaiting his rising to complete the group.
"If, as Bremen says, the cattle have strayed very far, it will be too late to go in the afternoon, and to-morrow you recollect is Sunday, and that, we have agreed, shall be kept as it ought to be." "Very true," said the Major; "then we must make Swinton entertain us by telling us more about the lions, for he had not finished when the storm came on."
"Is the boa constrictor found in this part of Africa?" "Not so far south as we now are, but it is a few degrees more to the northward. I have never seen it, but I believe there is no doubt of its existence." "The South American Indians have a very subtle poison with which they kill their game. Are you aware, Swinton, of its nature? Is it like the Bushmen's poison?"
We must leave the dogs to drive them out, or the Hottentots and Bushmen; but we must regain the banks." Just as Swinton said this, a loud rushing was heard through the reeds.
I remember a dinner given by the Whitman Society about twenty years ago, at the St. Denis Hotel, which was both grotesque and pitiable. The guest of honour was "Pete" Doyle, the former car-conductor and "young rebel friend of Walt's," then a middle-aged person. John Swinton, who presided, described Whitman as a troglodyte, but a cave-dweller he never was; rather the avatar of the hobo.
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