Gold Kloof

A. Bryden H.

Description

Originally geared for younger audiences, this rip-roaring adventure tale will please readers of all ages. Hero Guy Hardcastle's dying father passes on some clues about the location of a vast supply of gold in Angola. Guy -- an avid hunter and outdoorsman -- sets off to find it, and encounters a number of other adventures along the way.

Sujets

• Adventure (Guyana)
• Adventure

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 mai 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776590735
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE GOLD KLOOF
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H. A. BRYDEN
 
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The Gold Kloof First published in 1907 Epub ISBN 978-1-77659-073-5 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77659-074-2 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - School Days Chapter II - Bamborough Farm Chapter III - Up-Country Life Chapter IV - The Gold Spoor Chapter V - The Trek Begins Chapter VI - The Shadowers and the Shadowed Chapter VII - Adventures in the Veldt Chapter VIII - The Elephant Country Chapter IX - In the Thirst-Land Chapter X - Tom's Story—The Baboon Boy Chapter XI - The Berg Damaras Chapter XII - The Lion Camp Chapter XIII - Guy is Missing Chapter XIV - Poeskop to the Rescue Chapter XV - The Kloof Chapter XVI - Gathering Gold Chapter XVII - The Shadowers' Attack Chapter XVIII - The Last of Karl Engelbrecht Chapter XIX - Homeward Bound Endnotes
Chapter I - School Days
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It was a fine, hot July day on the banks of the Severn river atTewkesbury, that quaint, old-world, and somewhat decayed town, whichoffers to the inspection of the visitor and the archæologist some of themost ancient and interesting buildings to be seen in any part of broadEngland. There was some stir on the banks of the river, for two publicschools, one of them situate in the west of England, the other hailingfrom a Midland shire, were about to contest with one another in theirannual boat race. From the Western school a considerable contingent oflads had come over; these were discussing, with the enthusiasm ofschoolboys, the prospects of the races. On the banks, gathered near thewinning-post, were also to be seen a number of other spectators, somefrom the town itself, others from the neighbouring country-side.
The fateful moment at length had come; the two boats were to be seen inthe distance, their oarsmen battling with one another with all thedesperate energy that youth and strength and an invincible determinationcould put into their task. As they drew nearer it was to be seen thatthe Midland school was leading by nearly half a length. A quarter of amile remained to be rowed. Loud cries from the Western school resoundedalong the banks. Hope struggled against hope in every youthful breast;yet it seemed that if the oarsmen of the Western school were to makethat final effort for which they were famous, it was now almost toolate. But, no! the Western stroke is seen to be calling upon his crew;their flashing blades dip quicker, and yet quicker; they are welltogether, all apparently animated by the vigour and the reserve of forcedisplayed by their leader. Foot by foot they diminish the lead of theiradversaries, who are striving desperately, yet ineffectually, to retaintheir advantage. A hundred yards from the winning-post the Western ladsare level; and as the post is passed they have defeated theiradversaries, after one of the finest races ever rowed between the twoschools, by a quarter of a length.
Amid the exultant and tremendous cheering that now greets the triumph ofthe Western school, both crews paddle to the boat-house and disembark.The boats are got out and housed, and all but the Western captain andstroke, Guy Hardcastle, are inside the boathouse, bathing and changingtheir clothes. Guy Hardcastle, a strong, well-set-up lad of seventeen,lingers on the platform in conversation with his house-master, Mr.Brimley-Fair, who has come down to congratulate him on his victory. Heis a good-looking lad, fresh complexioned, with fair brown hair, a firmmouth, and a pair of steady, blue-gray eyes, which look the worldfrankly in the face, with an aspect of candour, friendliness, andself-reliance that most people find very attractive.
While master and boy are talking together for a brief minute or two, asudden cry comes from the river, followed by others. They look thatway, and see instantly the reason of the outcry. Some country people,rowing across from the other side, are evidently not accustomed toboating. Two of them attempt to change places in mid-stream: they arewomenfolk; they become alarmed and shift in their places, the heavilyladen boat is upset, and half a dozen people are struggling in thewater.
Guy Hardcastle is nothing if not prompt. His resolution is instantlytaken. He is in his light rowing kit, well prepared for swimming.Kicking off his shoes, he dives neatly into the water, and swims rapidlyupstream towards the group of struggling people sixty yards away. Ofthese, three are clinging to the boat; one man is swimming for the shorewith a child; the sixth, a girl of fourteen, has just sunk ten yardsbeyond the boat down-stream. Her danger is manifestly great andimminent. Boats are putting off from the bank, but they may be toolate. Guy Hardcastle, surveying the disaster with cool eye as he swimsthat way, has concentrated all his energies on this drowning andterror-stricken girl. He is within fifteen yards of where she sank; andnow, a few seconds later, just as the girl, now partly insensible, comesto the surface again, he grasps her firmly, turns her over on herback—a task of some difficulty—and, himself also swimming on his back,tows her towards the bank. It is not an easy task. The girl is nolight weight, encumbered as she is with soddened clothing; the stream isstrong, and Guy himself is by no means so fresh as he might have been,after that hard and exhausting race of a few minutes since. Still, withinvincible determination, the plucky lad struggles with his burdentowards the boat-house. Help comes unexpectedly. His house-master, Mr.Brimley-Fair, has foreseen his difficulties, and, jumping into a dingy,has rowed out to his assistance. Presently he is alongside.
"Here you are, Hardcastle," he cries; "catch hold of her side!"
Guy clutches with one hand at the boat's gunwale, and feels that he andhis burden are now pretty safe.
"Now, hang on while I row you in," says Mr. Brimley-Fair, "and we'llsoon have you all right."
Guy does as he is told, and in fifty strokes the boathouse is reached,and girl and rescuer are safe. A storm of cheering, greater even thanthat which greeted the winning of the boat race, now testifies to thegallantry of the boy's second feat and the relief of all that the girlis safe. Meanwhile, the remainder of the overturned crew have beenrescued by boats rowed from the bank.
Arrived at the boat-house, willing hands hung on to the dingy while Mr.Brimley-Fair stepped out of her. Then, bringing her side gently to theplatform, they grasped Guy Hardcastle and his burden and lifted theminto safety. The girl was pale and insensible, but she breathed; adoctor was quickly in attendance; and after the usual restorativemethods had been applied for a quarter of an hour, the patient cameround, was carried to a neighbouring hotel, put to bed, and by theevening was well enough to be taken home.
After the doctor had taken charge of the half-drowned girl, Mr.Brimley-Fair turned his attention to Guy Hardcastle, still dripping fromhis immersion.
"Now, my boy," he said, kindly patting him on the shoulder, "you havedone splendidly. That was a plucky thing to do. You remembered allyour life-saving lessons—which some of the boys seem to think abore—and deserve, and I hope will get, the Humane Society's Medal.But, medal or no medal, you did your duty and a brave thing, and we areall proud of you. Now go and get your clothes off and a rub down. Youlook tired and chilled, as well you may, after rowing that fine race andsaving a girl's life. I've sent for some brandy, and you'll soon be allright again."
"All right, sir," said the boy, cheerful though shivering. "I shall bequite fit as soon as I get into my clothes."
The brandy soon arrived, and the lad was given a small quantity in somewater. Thoroughly dried and rubbed down, he was, not long after,clothed and comfortable again, and quite equal to doing his duty by hisadversaries of the recent boat race, who with his own schoolmates wereloud in admiration of his latest feat.
The rival crews had some food together, under the chairmanship of Mr.Brimley-Fair; and later on, the Midland crew having been seen off at thestation, the Western lads took train for their own school.
About ten days after these events, Guy Hardcastle received news thataltered the whole course of his life. The son of a mining engineer,whose duties took him much away from England into distant parts of theworld, the lad had had the misfortune to lose his mother at a very earlyage. He lived during his vacations with an aunt, a sister of hisfather's, a Miss Hardcastle, who lived at a quiet country house in thecounty of Durham. Beyond two families of cousins living in the samecounty, the lad had few other relatives in England. He had, however, anUncle Charles, his mother's only brother, living in South Africa, whocame home occasionally to England, and to whom he was greatly attached.In fact, next to his father, the lad looked upon his Uncle Charles ashis greatest friend. Guy was now a month or two past seventeen. He hadbeen four years at his present school, where he was an immensefavourite. Captain of the rowing club, he had not time or opportunityto devote himself, as he would have liked, to cricket, and was nottherefore in the eleven. But he was in the twenty-two. He was also adistinguished member of the football team, and a good athlete. At thelast sports he had won the mile in the record time for his school offour minutes forty-nine seconds, and had, in addition, carried off thehalf-mile, the