A Story Like the Wind
Language: English
Pages: 384
ISBN: 0156852616
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
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room. So, the decision now facing him was whether he should take his �22 rifle which had the advantage of being a repeater, with fifteen cartridges in the magazine; or the lethal octagonal muzzle-loader, which, although it carried a deadlier bullet in the spout, had the disadvantage that, if he missed his target, it would take him at least a minute to reload it with gunpowder, ram down the wad to keep the powder in and force a new lead bullet after it. All that might be much too long for his own
enough in its own family context, particularly because it meant ‘Bringer of Light.’ Yet the name seemed to him to have a trace of presumption which made it inappropriate. He never thought of her as Luciana but merely as ‘the girl.’ Just as ’Bamuthi was unhappy because Sir James’s land had not the magic of a name to protect it, so he felt he would not be content until the girl, too, was encircled in a name of his own. But what name? Surprisingly, he was able to settle on a compromise inspired by
death in the animal world of Africa produces the greatest and most poignant of all eurhythmic graces. It was utterly impossible to watch the lithe body of the jackal, elongated with the extremity of speed, its dark coat streaked with gold and silver, flashing in and out of occasional bare patches of the vast clearing, and to see it soar effortlessly over some thorn bush into a sheet of sunlight like an animal breaking a silver hoop in the limelight of a circus, not to want such perfection of
Hintza, indeed, had a subtle suggestion in the eyes implying that not only had he understood but also that he found François’s observation completely illogical. “What’s the difference?” his look asked. “Sure, if I love one, I must love the other one as much, or would you want me to lead a dog’s life for ever, torn between the two of you?” The episode of the baboons is perhaps the most complex example of the secret life of his world which François shared with Nonnie during that too brief period
the one clear thought that Xhabbo, making his way so gallantly through the danger of night and bush, was not alone but was travelling in the company of embattled and belted constellations. Only then, utterly exhausted, he fell into a deep sleep from which Ousie-Johanna woke him with great difficulty the next morning. One need not emphasise how pointless the day ahead appeared to François; how he wondered if he could ever again get through the routine of a normal day. He had no doubt that he