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

"Benita, an African romance"


But they did not deceive themselves; the chances were at least fifty to
one against them, unless indeed their pursuers grew weary and let them
go.
At present, however, they were by no means weary, for having perceived
them from far away, the long-legged runners put on the pace, and the
distance between them and their quarry was lessening.
"Father," said Benita, "please understand one thing. I do not mean to be
taken alive by those savages."
"Oh! how can I----" he faltered.
"I don't ask you," she answered. "I will see to that myself. Only, if I
should make any mistake----" and she looked at him.
The old man was getting very tired. He panted up the steep hillside,
and stumbled against the stones. Benita noted it, and slipping from the
horse, made him mount while she ran alongside. Then when he was a
little rested they changed places again, and so covered several miles
of country. Subsequently, when both of them were nearly exhausted, they
tried riding together--she in front and he behind, for their baggage had
long since been thrown away. But the weary beast could not carry this
double burden, and after a few hundred yards of it, stumbled, fell,
struggled to its feet again, and stopped.
So once more they were obliged to ride and walk alternately.


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