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

"Benita, an African romance"


"A little cruelty will not do him any harm," Robert answered. "He has
plenty to spare for other people. Besides, he is going to get what he
has been looking for so long."
They led Jacob to the foot of the crucifix, where a paroxysm seemed to
seize him, then pushed him through the swinging doorway beneath,
and down the steep stairs, till once more they all stood in the
treasure-chamber.
"Look," said Robert, and, drawing his hunting-knife, he slashed one of
the hide bags, whereon instantly there flowed out a stream of beads and
nuggets. "Now, my friend, am I a liar?" he asked.
At this wondrous sight Jacob's terror seemed to depart from him, and he
grew cunning.
"Beautiful, beautiful!" he said, "more than I thought--sacks and sacks
of gold. I shall be a king indeed. No, no, it is all a dream--like the
rest. I don't believe it's there. Loose my arms and let me feel it."
"Untie him," said Robert, at the same time drawing his pistol and
covering the man; "he can't do us any hurt."
The Kaffirs obeyed, and Jacob, springing at the slashed bag, plunged his
thin hands into it.
"No lie," he screamed, "no lie," as he dragged the stuff out and smelt
at it. "Gold, gold, gold! Hundreds of thousands of pounds' worth of
gold! Let's make a bargain, Englishman, and I won't kill you as I meant
to do.


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