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

"Allan and the Holy Flower"

So
after they had wrapped his furs round him at sunset and made up the
fires to keep him warm, why should his women come to disturb him
unless he called them with his horn? Probably it was not even lawful
that they should do so.
Somewhat reassured I waded forward a few paces and loosed the canoe
which was tied by the prow. Then I scrambled into it, and laying down
the rifle, took one of the paddles and began to push out of the creek.
Just then the lightning flared once more, and by it I caught sight of
the Motombo's face that was now within a few feet of my own. It seemed
to be resting almost on his knees, and its appearance was dreadful. In
the centre of the forehead was a blue mark where the bullet had
entered, for I had made no mistake in that matter. The deep-set round
eyes were open and, all their fire gone, seemed to stare at me from
beneath the overhanging brows. The massive jaw had fallen and the red
tongue hung out upon the pendulous lip. The leather-like skin of the
bloated cheeks had assumed an ashen hue still streaked and mottled
with brown.


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