Prev | Current Page 230 | Next

Allen, Grant, 1848-1899

"Hilda Wade, a Woman with Tenacity of Purpose"

By her side lay Sannie,
the little prattling girl of three, my constant playmate, whom I had
instructed in cat's-cradle, and taught the tales of Cinderella and Red
Riding Hood. My hand grasped the lollipops in my pocket convulsively.
She would never need them. Nobody else was about. What had become of Oom
Jan Willem--and the baby?
I wandered out into the yard, sick with the sight I had already seen.
There Oom Jan Willem himself lay stretched at full length; a bullet had
pierced his left temple; his body was also riddled through with assegai
thrusts.
I saw at once what this meant. A rising of the Matabele!
I had come back from Salisbury, unknowing it, into the midst of a revolt
of bloodthirsty savages.
Yet, even if I had known, I must still have hurried home with all speed
to Klaas's--to protect Hilda.
Hilda? Where was Hilda? A breathless sinking crept over me.
I staggered out into the open. It was impossible to say what horror
might not have happened. The Matabele might even now be lurking about
the kraal--for the bodies were hardly cold. But Hilda? Hilda? Whatever
came, I must find Hilda.
Fortunately, I had my loaded revolver in my belt.


Pages:
218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242