Query Bad Shillings?
“Hi!”
No answer.
“Hi! Dyke!”
The lad addressed did not turn his head, but walked straight on, with the dwarf karroo bushes crackling and snapping under his feet, while at each call he gave an angry kick out, sending the dry red sand flying.
He was making for the kopje or head of bald granite which rose high out of the level plain—where, save in patches, there was hardly a tree to be...
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