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

"Allan Quatermain"

Deep into the night we sat, with pale faces and
heavy hearts, and took counsel, whilst the sentries tramped up
and down, down and up, and the armed and plumed generals came
and went, grim and shadow-like.
And so the time wore away, till everything was ready for the
coming slaughter; and I lay down and thought, and tried to get
a little rest, but could not sleep for fear of the morrow --
for who could say what the morrow would bring forth? Misery
and death, this was certain; beyond that we knew not, and I confess
I was very much afraid. But as I realized then, it is useless
to question that eternal Sphinx, the future. From day to day
she reads aloud the riddles of the yesterday, of which the puzzled
wordlings of all ages have not answered one, nor ever will, guess
they never so wildly or cry they never so loud.
And so at length I gave up wondering, being forced humbly to
leave the issue in the balancing hands of Providence and the
morrow.
And at last up came the red sun, and the huge camps awoke with
a clash, and a roar, and gathered themselves together for battle.
It was a beautiful and awe-inspiring scene, and old Umslopogaas,
leaning on his axe, contemplated it with grim delight.
'Never have I seen the like, Macumazahn, never,' he said.


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