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

"Allan and the Holy Flower"


There's the last I shall see of you, my old friend, thought I to
myself, unless I catch you up presently.
The gloom began to gather. The king looked about him, also at the sky
overhead, as though he feared rain, then whispered something to
Babemba, who nodded and strolled up to my post.
"White lord," he said, "the Elephant wishes to know if you are ready,
as presently the light will be very bad for shooting?"
"No," I answered with decision, "not till half an hour after sundown
as was agreed."
Babemba went to the king and returned to me.
"White lord, the king says that a bargain is a bargain, and he will
keep to his word. Only you must not then blame him if the shooting is
bad, since of course he did not know that the night would be so
cloudy, which is not usual at this time of year."
It grew darker and darker, till at length we might have been lost in a
London fog. The dense masses of the people looked like banks, and the
archers, flitting to and fro as they made ready, might have been
shadows in Hades.


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