It
looked at first something like a glass eye; but there was a depth and
brilliancy about it such as glass never exhibited. There was no mistake
this time; we had certainly got possession of a jewel of great value;
and with light hearts we turned from the valley, bearing away with us
the "fiend" which had so long reigned there.
There, sir; I've spun my story out too long, and tired you perhaps.
You see, when I get talking of those rough old days, I kind of see the
little cabin again, and the brook beside it, and the bush around, and
seem to hear Tom's honest voice once more. There's little for me to say
now. We prospered on the gem. Tom Donahue, as you know, has set up
here, and is well known about town. I have done well, farming and
ostrich-raising in Africa. We set old Dick Wharton up in business, and
he is one of our nearest neighbours. If you should ever be coming up our
way, sir, you'll not forget to ask for Jack Turnbull--Jack Turnbull of
Sasassa Farm.
LONG ODDS, By H. Rider Haggard
The story which is narrated in the following pages came to me from the
lips of my old friend Allan Quatermain, or Hunter Quatermain, as we used
to call him in South Africa.
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