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Various

"Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 100, January 17, 1891"

My mind is made up. This very night we all start for
Mariannakookaland. There at least our lives will be safe."
CHAPTER III.
We were in Mariannakookaland. We had been there a month travelling
on, ever on, over the parching wastes, under the scorching African sun
which all but burnt us in our _treks_. Our _Veldt_ slippers were worn
out, and our pace was consequently reduced to the merest _Kraal_. At
rare intervals during our adventurous march, we had seen Stars and
heard of Echoes, but now not a single _Kopje_ was left, and we were
trudging along mournfully with our blistered _tongas_ protruding from
our mouths.
Suddenly Sir HENRY spoke--"SMALLUN, my old friend," he said, "do you
see anything in the distance?"
I looked intently in the direction indicated, but could see nothing
but the horizon. "Look again," said Sir HENRY. I swept the distance
with my glance. It was a sandy, arid distance, and, naturally enough,
a small cloud of dust appeared. Then a strange thing happened. The
cloud grew and grew. It came rolling towards us with an unearthly
noise.


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