"Smith, Wilbur - Courtney 02 - The Sound of Thunder" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Wilbur)

on the wide stoep look out across the plain to the Tugela River in the
blue distance.

"Tomorrow early we will reach Pretoria. " The voice beside him
interrupted his dreaming, and Sean moved in the saddle and looked down
at the Zulu who squatted beside his horse.

"It has been a good hunt, Mbejane. " "Nkosi, we have killed many
elephant." Mbejane nodded and Sean noticed for the first time the
strands of silver in the wooly cap of his hair. No longer a young man
either.

"And made many marches," Sean went on and Mbejane inclined his head
again in grave agreement.

"A man grows weary of the trek, " Sean mused aloud. "There is a time
when he longs to sleep two nights at the same place. " "And to hear
the singing of his wives as they work the fields. " Mbejane carried it
further. "And to watch his cattle come into the kraal at dusk with his
sons driving them. " "That time has come for both of us, my friend. We
are going home to Ladyburg. " The spears rattled against Ins raw-hide
shield as MbeJane stood up, muscles moved beneath the black velvet of
his skin and he lifted his head to Sean and smiled.

It was a thing of white teeth and radiance, that smile. Sean had to
return it and they grinned at each other like two small boys in a
successful bit of mischief.

"If we push the oxen hard this last day we can reach Pretoria tonight,
Nkosi. " "Let us make the attempt. " Sean encouraged him and walked
his horse down the slope to intercept the caravan.

As it toiled slowly towards them through the flat white glare of the
African morning a commotion started at its rear and spread quickly
along the line, the dogs clamoured and the servants shouted
encouragement to the rider who raced past them towards the head of the
caravan. He lay forward in the saddle, driving the pony with elbows
and heels, hat hanging from the leather thong about his neck and black
hair ruffled with the speed of his run.

"That cub roars louder than the lion that sired him," grunted Mbejane,
but there was a fondness in his expression as he watched the rider
reach the leading wagon and drag the pony from full run down on to his
haunches.

"Also he spoils the mouth of every horse he rides." Sean's voice was
as harsh as Mbejane's, but there was the same fond expression in his
eyes as he watched his son cut loose the brown body of a springbok from
the pommel of his saddle and let it drop into the road beside the
wagon. Two of the wagon drivers hurried to retrieve it, and Dirk