The Leopard Woman by Stewart Edward White

Author:Stewart Edward White [White, Stewart Edward]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Romantic Suspense, Action & Adventure, Family Saga, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Literary, Suspense, Nonfiction, Thrillers, Classics, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
ISBN: 1414276419
Google: Ikv7CPrs8YMC
Amazon: B004TQ9IUE
Barnesnoble: B004TQ9IUE
Goodreads: 6811220
Publisher: IndyPublish.com
Published: 1916-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

“M’tela?” she repeated the name thoughtfully. “No—but I don’t know much about native tribes.”

Remembering her map Kingozi’s lips compressed under his beard. What earthly object could she have in lying?—unless her errand was as secret as his own.

“Well, he is described as being very powerful. And of course he will hear of us. It is well to make friends with him before he has had a chance to think us over too long. I’ll just go on and see him.”

“When will you start?” she asked, conceding the point without discussion.

“To-morrow morning. I shall make the distance in about five days, probably: you should be able to do so in eight or ten. How are you feeling to-day?”

“Better. I wondered would you ask.”

He picked up her wrist.

“Pulse seems steady. Any fever?”

“A little early and late.”

“Well, keep on with the hydrochlorate. You’ll pull out in a day or so.”

But the Leopard Woman pulled out in a second or so after Kingozi’s departure. As soon as he was safe away, she threw back the covers and swung to the edge of the cot. At her call Chaké, the Nubian, appeared. To him she immediately began to give emphatic directions, repeating some of them over and over vehemently. He bent his fuzzy head listening, his yellow eyeballs showing, his fang-like teeth exposed in a grin of comprehension. When she had finished he nodded, said a few words in his own tongue, and glided from the tent.

At his own camp he stooped and picked up a weapon. This was a spear, and belonged to him personally. He had brought it all the way from Nubia. It differed from any of the native spears of East Africa both in form and in weight. Its blade was broad and shaped like a leaf; its haft was of wood; and its heel was shod with only the briefest length of iron. Chaké kept this spear in a high state of polish, so that its metal shone like silver. He lifted it, poised it, made as though to throw it, to thrust with it. Then with a sigh of renunciation he laid it aside. From behind one of the porters’ tents he took another spear, one typical of this country that had been traded for only a day or two before. This Chaké considered clumsy and unnecessarily heavy. Nevertheless he bore it out into the long grass where he squatted in concealment; and, producing a stone, began painstakingly to sharpen the point and edges. As the slow labour went on he seemed to work himself gradually to a pitch of excitement. A little crooning song began to rise and fall, to flow and ebb. His eyes flashed, his back bent to a tense crouch. Every few moments he dashed the spear against an imaginary shield, poised it, thrust with it strongly, the chant rising. Then abruptly his voice fell, his muscles relaxed, he resumed the rythmical whetting with the stone.

All afternoon he squatted, passing the stone over the steel; polishing long after the point and edges were as sharp as they could be made.

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