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Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider), 1856-1925

"A Yellow God: an Idol of Africa"

Cut, Major, cut like hell. Them dwarfs
be back soon, but," he puffed, "I think, I think Little Bonsa come
square with them one day."
So Alan "cut" and the huge Jeekie blundered along after him, the
paraphernalia with which he was hung about rattling like the hoofs of a
galloping giraffe. Nor for all his load did he ever turn a hair. Whether
it were fear within or a desire to save his master, or a belief in the
virtues of Little Bonsa, or that his foot was, as it were, once more
upon his native heath, the fact remained that notwithstanding the
fifty years, almost, that had whitened his wool, Jeekie was absolutely
inexhaustible. At least at the end of that fearful chase, which lasted
all the day, and through the night also, for they dared not camp, he
appeared to be nearly as fresh as when he started from Old Calabar, nor
did his spirits fail him for one moment.
When the light came on the following morning, however, they perceived
by many signs and tokens that the dwarf people were all about them. Some
arrows were shot even, but these fell short.
"Pooh!" said Jeekie, "all right now, they much afraid. Still, no time
for coffee, we best get on.


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