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

"A Yellow God: an Idol of Africa"

For a while his followers stood astonished. They might have
heard of guns from the coast people, but living as they did in the
interior where white folk did not dare to travel, they had never seen
their terrible effects.
"Magic!" they cried. "Magic!"
"Of course," exclaimed Jeekie, who by now had arrived upon the scene.
"What else did you expect from the husband of Little Bonsa? Magic, the
greatest of magic. Go, roll that beast away before your chief is crushed
to death."
They obeyed, and the man sat up, a fearful spectacle, for he was
smothered with the blood of the lion and somewhat cut by her claws,
though otherwise unhurt. Then feeling that the life was still whole in
him, he crept on his hands and knees to where Alan stood, and kissed his
feet.
"Aha!" said Jeekie, "Little Bonsa score again. Cannibal tribe our slave
henceforth for evermore. Yes, till kingdom come. Come on, Major, and
cook supper in perfect peace."
The supper was cooked and eaten with gratitude, for seldom had two men
needed a square meal more, and never did venison taste better. By the
time that it was finished darkness had fallen, and before they turned in
to sleep in the neat reed hut that the Ogula had built, Alan and Jeekie
walked up the island to see if the lioness had been skinned, as they
directed.


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