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

"Benita, an African romance"

Nor can it matter to them whether they lie about singly as
they died or were placed after death, or piled together in a corner. Our
fears were mere churchyard superstitions, which we have caught from that
ghoul of a Molimo. Don't you agree with me?"
"Yes, I suppose so," answered Benita, "though a fate may cling to
certain things or places, perhaps. At any rate, I think that it is of no
use turning back now, even if we had anywhere to turn, so we may as well
go through with the venture and await its end. Give me the water-bottle,
please. I am thirsty."
A while later Jacob Meyer appeared, carrying a great bundle of precious
objects wrapped in one of the gold cere-cloths, which bundle he hid away
behind a stone.
"The cave is much tidier now," he said, as he flicked the thick dust
which had collected on them during his unhallowed task from his hands,
and hair, and garments. Then he drank greedily, and asked:
"Have you two made any plans for our future researches?"
They shook their heads.
"Well, then, I have. I thought them out while I was bone-carting, and
here they are. It is no use our going down below again; for one thing,
the journey is too dangerous, and takes too long; and for another, we
are safer up above, where we have plenty to do.


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