But, see, it
grows dark. Had we not better light a fire," and forgetting the rifle
he began to look about for wood.
"Hans," called Stephen after him, "if ever we get out of this, I will
give you ?500, or at least my father will, which is the same thing."
"Thank you, Baas, thank you, though just now I'd rather have a drop of
brandy and--I don't see any wood."
He was right. Outside of the graveyard clearing lay, it is true, some
huge fallen boughs. But these were too big for us to move or cut.
Moreover, they were so soaked with damp, like everything in this
forest, that it would be impossible to fire them.
The darkness closed in. It was not absolute blackness, because
presently the moon rose, but the sky was rainy and obscured it;
moreover, the huge trees all about seemed to suck up whatever light
there was. We crouched ourselves upon the ground back to back as near
as possible to the centre of the place, unrolled such blankets as we
had to protect us from the damp and cold, and ate some biltong or
dried game flesh and parched corn, of which fortunately the boy Jerry
carried a bagful that had remained upon his shoulders when he was
thrown into the canoe.
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