The White Hand and the Black: A Story of the Natal Rising
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Mitford Bertram. The White Hand and the Black: A Story of the Natal Rising
Prologue
Chapter One. Of an Unwonted Peril
Chapter Two. The New Magistrate
Chapter Three. The Stranger from Zululand
Chapter Four. The Magistracy at Kwabulazi
Chapter Five. The Ethiopian Emissary
Chapter Six. A Native Utopia
Chapter Seven. Of a Day of Rest
Chapter Eight. Her “Aerial Throne.”
Chapter Nine. The Zulu Again
Chapter Ten. A Chief – out of Date
Chapter Eleven “Good Night, Zavula!”
Chapter Twelve. Two Letters
Chapter Thirteen. Manamandhla’s Beef
Chapter Fourteen. Manamandhla’s Strategy
Chapter Fifteen. A Revelation – with a Vengeance
Chapter Sixteen. The New Arrival
Chapter Seventeen. A Trap – and a Tragedy
Chapter Eighteen. Venatorial
Chapter Nineteen “Diane Chasseresse.”
Chapter Twenty. Manamandhla’s Escape
Chapter Twenty One. Peace – and Potentialities
Chapter Twenty Two. The War-Dance at Tongwana’s
Chapter Twenty Three. After the Warning
Chapter Twenty Four. Unprotected
Chapter Twenty Five “The Perils and Dangers of this Night.”
Chapter Twenty Six. Of a Home-Coming
Chapter Twenty Seven. The Defence of Kwabulazi
Chapter Twenty Eight “Can the ‘Ethiopian’ Chance his Skin?”
Chapter Twenty Nine. A Devil-Deed
Chapter Thirty. Overheard
Chapter Thirty One. Manamandhla’s Story
Chapter Thirty Two. Thornhill’s Story
Chapter Thirty Three. Envoi
Отрывок из книги
The girl was drawing.
From where she sat a great mountain head, turreted with bronze-faced krantzes, rose up against the unclouded blue, set off by a V-shaped foreground of tossing, tumbling foliage – in a word, virgin forest. The grass was long in the little open space, and in and among the trailers hanging like network from the trees, birds were making the warm air merry with many a varied call and pipe. Now and then a grey monkey, reassured by the repose of the human occupant of the spot, would climb partly down, almost above her head, and hang, perking his black face in a knowing attitude, as though quite competent to criticise the water-colour sketch now rapidly taking shape: to skip aloft, chattering, as some sudden movement on the part of the artist appealed strongly to his instinct of self preservation. And then the dark shadowy depths of the surrounding trees would be alive with responsive mutterings and cackles, where the less venturesome of the troop lurked, awaiting further developments.
.....
“Well, I shall have to walk. But that’s nothing. I’m in hard training.”
The girl’s eyes opened wide.
.....