The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Induna's Wife, by Bertram Mitford
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Induna's Wife
Author: Bertram Mitford
Illustrator: A.D. McCormick
Release Date: June 20, 2010 [EBook #32927]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDUNA'S WIFE ***
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Induna's Wife, by Bertram Mitford.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
THE INDUNA'S WIFE, BY BERTRAM MITFORD.
PROLOGUE.
Twilight was fast closing in upon the desolate site of the old Kambula
Camp, and the short, sharp thunderstorm which at the moment of
outspanning had effectually drenched the scant supply of fuel, rendering
that evening's repast, of necessity, cold commons, had left in its wake
a thin but steady downpour. Already the line of low hills hard by was
indistinct in the growing gloom, and a far-reaching expanse of cold and
treeless plains made up a surrounding as mournful and depressing as
could be.
The waggon stood outspanned in the tall grass, which, waist high, was
about as pleasant to stand in as the drift of a river. Just above, the
conical ridge, once crested with fort and waggon laagers, and swarming
with busy life, and the stir and hum of troops on hard active service,
now desolate and abandoned--the site, indeed, still discernible if only
by ancient tins, and much fragmentary residue of the ubiquitous British
bottle. Below, several dark patches in the grass marked the
resting-place of hundreds of Zulu dead--fiery, intrepid warriors--mown
down in foil and sweeping rush, with lips still framing the war cry of
their king, fierce resolute hands still gripping the deadly charging
spear. Now a silent and spectral peace rested upon this erewhile scene
of fierce and furious war, a peace that in the gathering gloom had in it
something that was weird, boding, oppressive. Even my natives, usually
prone to laughter and cheery spirits, seemed subdued, as though loth to
pass the night upon this actual site of vast and tolerably recent
bloodshed; and the waggon lea
|