ADVENTURES IN MANY LANDS

 * * * * *

THE BRAVE DEEDS SERIES

_UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME_

THE BLACK TROOPERS, AND OTHER STORIES

A RACE FOR LIFE, AND OTHER TALES

NOBLE DEEDS OF THE WORLD'S HEROINES. By Henry Charles Moore. 

THROUGH FLOOD AND FLAME. Adventures and Perils of Protestant Heroes. ByHenry Charles Moore. 

HEROES OF THE GOODWIN SANDS. By the Rev. T. S. Treanor, M. A. 

ON THE INDIAN TRAIL, AND OTHER STORIES OF THE CREE AND SALTEAUX INDIANS. By Egerton R. Young. 

REMARKABLE ADVENTURES FROM REAL LIFE. 

THROUGH FIRE AND THROUGH WATER. By T. S. Millington. 

FRANK LAYTON. An Australian Story. By George E. Sargent. 

THE REALM OF THE ICE-KING. A Narrative of Arctic Exploration. By T. Frost. 

THE FOSTER-BROTHERS OF DOON. A Tale of the Irish Rebellion. By E. H. Walshe. 

THE CAPTAIN'S STORY. By Captain E. F. Brooke-Knight. 

STEADFAST AND TRUE. By L. C. Silke. 

ADVENTURE STORIES: DARING DEEDS ON LAND AND SEA. 

HISTORICAL TALES FOR YOUNG PROTESTANTS. 

BRAVE SONS OF THE EMPIRE. By Henry Charles Moore. 

THE LOG OF A SKY-PILOT; or, Work and Adventure around the Goodwin Sands. By T. S. Treanor, M. A. 

SAXBY. A Tale of the Commonwealth Time. By Emma Leslie. 

WITHIN SEA WALLS. By E. H. Walshe and G. E. Sargent. 

THE HEROES OF MOSS HALL SCHOOL. A Public School Story. By E. C. Kenyon. 

A GREAT MISTAKE. A Story of Adventure in the Franco-German War. By T. S. Millington. 

THE TREASURE OF CHIN-LOO. 

LONDON: THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY. 

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[Illustration: THE WOUNDED ANIMAL SUDDENLY SPRANG OUT AT ME. _See page 59. _]

ADVENTURES IN MANY LANDS

Told by

ALGERNON BLACKWOOD, WILLIAM WEBSTER, ALFRED COLBECK, A. LEE KNIGHT, And Other Writers. 

_WITH THREE COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. GILLETT_

LONDON

THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY4 Bouverie Street & 65 St. Paul's Churchyard

CONTENTS

 PAGEI

A TERRIBLE ADVENTURE WITH HYENAS 5 _By C. Randolph Lichfield_

II

THE VEGA VERDE MINE 10 _By Charles Edwardes_

III

A VERY NARROW SHAVE 20 _By John Lang_

IV

AN ADVENTURE IN ITALY 31 _By J. Kinchin Smith_

V

THE TAPU-TREE 38 _By A. Ferguson_

VI

SOME PANTHER STORIES 49 _By Various Writers_

VII

A MIDNIGHT RIDE ON A CALIFORNIAN RANCH 69 _By A. F. Walker_

VIII

O'DONNELL'S REVENGE 84 _By Frank Maclean_

IX

MY ADVENTURE WITH A LION 105 _By Algernon Blackwood_

X

THE SECRET CAVE OF HYDAS 116 _By F. Barford_

XI

AN ADVENTURE IN THE HEART OF MALAY-LAND 155 _By Alexander Macdonald, F. R. G. S. _

XII

A WEEK-END ADVENTURE 171 _By William Webster_

XIII

THE DEFLECTED COMPASS 193 _By Alfred Colbeck_

XIV

IN PERIL IN AFRICA 214 _By Maurice Kerr_

XV

KEEPING THE TRYST 227 _By E. Cockburn Reynolds_

XVI

WHO GOES THERE? 245 _By Rowland W. Cater_

XVII

A DROWNING MESSMATE 257 _By A. Lee Knight_

XVIII

THE PILOT OF PORT CREEK 266 _By Burnett Fallow_

ADVENTURES IN MANY LANDS

I

A TERRIBLE ADVENTURE WITH HYENAS

There are many mighty hunters, and most of them can tell of many verythrilling adventures personally undergone with wild beasts; but probablynone of them ever went through an experience equalling that which ArthurSpencer, the famous trapper, suffered in the wilds of Africa. 

As the right-hand man of Carl Hagenbach, the great Hamburg dealer inwild animals, for whom Spencer trapped some of the finest and rarestbeasts ever seen in captivity, thrilling adventures were everydayoccurrences to him. The trapper's life is infinitely more exciting anddangerous than the hunter's, inasmuch as the latter hunts to kill, whilethe trapper hunts to capture, and the relative risks are not, therefore, comparable; but Spencer's adventure with the "scavenger of the wilds, "as the spotted hyena is sometimes aptly called, was something soterrible that even he could not recollect it without shuddering. 

He was out with his party on an extended trapping expedition, and oneday he chanced to get separated from his followers; and, partly overcomeby the intense heat and his fatigue, he lay down and fell asleep--aboutthe most dangerous thing a solitary traveller in the interior of Africacan do. Some hours later, when the scorching sun was beginning to settledown in the west, he was aroused by the sound of laughter not far away. 

For the moment he thought his followers had found him, and were amusedto find him taking his difficulties so comfortably; but hearing thelaugh repeated he realised at once that no human being ever gaveutterance to quite such a sound; in fact, his trained ear told him itwas the cry of the spotted hyena. Now thoroughly awake, he sat up andsaw a couple of the ugly brutes about fifty yards away on his left. Theywere sniffing at the air, and calling. He knew that they had scentedhim, but had not yet perceived him. 

In such a position, as sure a shot and one so well armed as Spencer was, a man who knew less about wild animals and their habits would doubtlesshave sent the two brutes to earth in double quick time, and thusdestroyed himself. But Spencer very well knew from their manner thatthey were but the advance-guard of a pack. The appearance of the pack, numbering about one hundred, coincided with his thought. To tackle thewhole party was, of course, utterly out of the question; to escape byflight was equally out of the question, for hyenas are remarkably fasttravellers. 

His only possible chance of escape, therefore, was to hoodwink them, ifhe could, by feigning to be dead; for it is a characteristic of thehyena to reject flesh that is not putrid. He threw himself down again, and remained motionless, hoping the beasts would think him, though dead, yet unfit for food. It was an off-chance, and he well knew it; but therewas nothing else to be done. 

In a couple of seconds the advance-guard saw him, and, calling to theirfellows, rushed to him. The pack answered the cry and instantlyfollowed. Spencer felt the brutes running over him, felt their foulbreath on his neck, as they sniffed at him, snapping, snarling, laughing; but he did not move. One of them took a critical bite at hisarm; but he did not stir. They seemed nonplussed. Another tried thecondition of his leg, while many of them pulled at his clothes, as if inimpotent rage at finding him so fresh. But he did not move; in an agonyof suspense he waited motionless. 

Presently, to his amazement, he was lifted up by two hyenas, which fixedtheir teeth in his ankle and his wrist, and, accompanied by the rest, his bearers set off with him swinging between them, sometimes fairlycarrying him, sometimes simply dragging him, now and again dropping himfor a moment to refix their teeth more firmly in his flesh. Believinghim to be dead, they were conveying him to their retreat, there todevour him when he was in a fit condition. He fully realised this, buthe was powerless to defend himself from such a fate. 

How far they carried him Spencer could not tell, for from the pain hewas suffering from his wounds, and the dreadful strain of being carriedin such a manner, he fell into semi-consciousness from time to time; butthe distance must have been considerable, for night was over the landand the sky sparkling with stars before the beasts finally halted; andthen they dropped him in what he knew, by the horrible and overpoweringsmell peculiar to hyenas, was the cavern home of the pack. Here he laythroughout the awful night, surrounded by his captors, suffering acutelyfrom his injuries, thirst, and the vile smell of the place. 

When morning broke he found that the pack had already gone out in searchof more ready food, leaving him in charge of two immense brutes, whichwatched him narrowly all through the day; for, unarmed as he was, andexhausted, he knew it would be suicide to attempt to tackle hisjanitors. He could only wait on chance. Once or twice during the day thebeasts tried him with their teeth, giving unmistakable signs of disgustat the poor progress he was making. At nightfall they tried him again, and, being apparently hungry, one of them deserted its post and wentoff, like the others, in search of food. 

This gave the wretched man a glimmering of hope, for he knew that thehyena dislikes its own company, and that the remaining beast wouldcertainly desert if the pack remained away long enough. But for hourafter hour the animal stayed on duty, never going farther than the mouthof the cave. When the second morning broke, however, the hyena grew veryrestless, going out and remaining away for brief periods. But it alwaysreturned, and every time it did so Spencer naturally imagined it hadseen the pack returning, and that the worst was in store for him. But atlength, about noon, the brute went out and did not come back. 

Spencer waited and waited, fearing to move lest the creature should onlybe outside, fearing to tarry lest he should miss his only chance ofescaping. After about an hour of this suspense he crept to the mouth ofthe cave. No living creature was within sight. He got upon his falteringfeet, and hurried away as fast as his weakness would permit; but hiscondition was so deplorable that he had not covered a mile when hecollapsed in a faint. 

Fortune, however, favours the brave; and although he fell where he mighteasily have remained for years without being discovered, he was foundthe same day by a party of Boers, who dressed his wounds, gave him foodand drink (which he had not touched for two days), and helped him byeasy stages to the coast. 

Being a man of iron constitution, he made a rapid and complete recovery, but his wrist, ankle, arms, and thigh still bear the marks of thehideous teeth which, but for his marvellous strength of will, would havetorn him, living, to shreds. 

II

THE VEGA VERDE MINE

Jim Cayley clambered over the refuse-heaps of the mine, rejoicing in atremendous appetite which he was soon to have the pleasure ofsatisfying. 

There was also something else. 

Little Toro, the kiddy from Cuba--"Somebody's orphan, " the Spaniards ofthe mine called him, with a likely hit at the truth--little Toro hadbeen to the Lago Frio with Jim, to see that he didn't drown of cramp orget eaten by one of the mammoth trout, and had hinted at dark doings tobe wrought that very day, at closing time or thereabouts. 

Hitherto, Jim had not quite justified his presence at the Vega Verdemine, some four thousand feet above sea-level in these wilds ofAsturias. To be sure, he was there for his health. But Mr. Summerfield, the other engineer in partnership with Alfred Cayley, Jim's brother, had, in a thoughtless moment, termed Jim "an idle young dog, " and thephrase had stuck. Jim hadn't liked it, and tried to say so. Unfortunately, he stammered, and Don Ferdinando (Mr. Summerfield) hadlaughed and gone off, saying he couldn't wait. 

_Now_ it was Jim's chance. He felt that this was so, and he rejoiced inthe sensation as well as in his appetite and the thought of theexcellent soup, omelette, cutlets, and other things which it was Mrs. Jumbo's privilege to be serving to the three Englishmen (reckoning Jimin the three) at half-past one o'clock precisely. 

Toro had made a great fuss about his news. He was drying Jim at thetime, and Jim was saying that he didn't suppose any other English fellowof fifteen had had such a splendid bathe. There were snow-peaks in thedistance, slowly melting into that lake, which well deserved its name of"Cold. "

"Don Jimmy, " said young Toro, pausing with the towel, "what do youthink?"

"Think?" said Jimmy. "That I--I--I--I'll punch your black head for youif you don't finish this j--j--j--job, and b--b--b--be quick about it. "

He wasn't really fierce with the Cuban kiddy. The Cuban kiddy himselfknew that, and grinned as he made for Jim's shoulder. 

"Yes, Don Jimmy, " he said; "don't you worry about that. But I'm tellingyou a straight secret this time--no figs about it. "

Toro had picked up some peculiar English by association with theAmericans who had swamped his native land after the great war. Still, itwas quite understandable English. 

"A s--s--s--straight secret! Then j--j--just out with it, or I'llp--p--p--punch your head for that as well, " said Jimmy, rushing hiswords. 

He often achieved remarkable victories over his affliction by rushinghis words. He could do this best with his inferiors, when he hadn't totrouble to think what words he ought to use. At school he made howlingmistakes just because of his respectful regard for the masters and thatsort of thing. They didn't seem to see how he suffered in his kindlyconsideration of them. 

It was same with Don Ferdinando. Mr. Summerfield was a very greatengineering swell when he was at home in London. Jimmy couldn't helpfeeling rather awed by him. And so his stammering to Don Ferdinando wassomething "so utterly utter" (as his brother said) that no fellow couldlisten to it without manifest pain, mirth, or impatience. In DonFerdinando's case, it was generally impatience. His time was worthpounds a minute or so. 

"All right, " said Toro. "And my throat ain't drier than your back now, Don Jimmy; so you can put your clothes on and listen. They're going tobust the mine this afternoon--that's what they're going to do; andthey'd knife me if they knew I was letting on. "

"What?" cried Jimmy. 

"It's a fact, " said Toro, dropping the towel and feeling for acigarette. "They're all so mighty well sure they won't be let go down toBavaro for the Saint Gavino kick-up to-morrow that they've settled to dothat. If there ain't no portering to do, they'll be _let_ go. That's howthey look at it. They don't care, not a peseta between 'em, how much itcosts the company to get the machine put right again; not them skunksdon't. What they want is to have a twelve-hour go at the wine in thevalley. You won't tell of me, Don Jimmy?"

"S--s--snakes!" said Jimmy. 

Then he had started to run from the Lago Frio, with his coat on his arm. Dressing was a quick job in those wilds, where at midday in summer onedidn't want much clothing. 

"No, I won't let on!" he had cried back over his shoulder. 

Toro, the Cuban kiddy, sat down on the margin of the cold blue lake andfinished his cigarette reflectively. White folks, especially whiteEnglish-speaking ones, were rather unsatisfactory. He liked them, because as a rule he could trust them. But Don Jimmy needn't havehurried away like that. He, Toro, hoped to have had licence to draw hispay for fully another hour's enjoyable idleness. As things were, however, Don Alonso, the foreman, would be sure to be down on him if hewere two minutes after Don Jimmy among the red-earth heaps and thegalvanised shanties of the calamine mine on its perch eight hundred feetsheer above the Vega Verde. 

Jim Cayley was a few moments late for the soup after all. 

"I s--s--say!" he began, as he bounced into the room. 

"Say nothing, my lad!" exclaimed Don Alfredo, looking up from hisnewspaper. 

[Words missing in original] mail had just arrived--an eight-mile climb, made daily, both ways, by one of the gang. 

Mrs. Jumbo, the moustached old Spanish lady who looked after the house, put his soup before Jimmy. 

"Eat, my dear, " she said in Spanish, caressing his damp hair--one of hermany amiable yet detested little tricks, to signify her admiration ofJim's fresh complexion and general style of beauty. 

"But it's--it's--it's most imp--p--p----"

Don Ferdinando set down his spoon. He also let the highly grave letterfrom London which he was reading slip into his soup. 

"I tell you what, Cayley, " he said, "if you don't crush this youngbrother of yours, I will. This is a matter of life or death, and I_must_ have a clear head to think it out. "

"I was only saying, " cried Jim desperately. But his brother stopped him. 

"Hold your tongue, Jim, " he said. "We've worry enough to go on with justat present. I mean it, my lad. If you've anything important to proclaim, leave it to me to give you the tip when to splutter at it. I'm solemn. "

When Don Alfredo said he was "solemn, " it often meant that he was on theedge of a most unbrotherly rage. And so Jim concentrated upon hisdinner. He made wry faces at Mrs. Jumbo and her strokings, and evenfound fault with the soup when she asked him sweetly if it were notexcellent. All this to relieve his feelings. 

The two engineers left Jim to finish his dinner by himself. Jim'srenewed effort of "I say, Alf!" was quenched by the upraised hands ofboth engineers. 

Outside they were met by Don Alonso, the foreman, a very smart andgo-ahead fellow indeed, considering that he was a Spaniard. 

"They'll strike, señores!" said Don Alonso, with a shrug. "It can't behelped, I'm afraid. It's all Domecq's doing, the scoundrel! Why didn'tyou dismiss him, Don Alfredo, after that affair of Moreno's death?There's not a doubt he killed Moreno, and he hasn't a spark of gratitudeor goodness in his nature. "

"He's a capable hand, " said Alfred Cayley. 

"Too much so, by half, " said Don Ferdinando. "If he were off the mine, Elgos, we should run smoothly, eh?"

"I'll answer for that, señor, " replied the foreman. "As it is, he playshis cards against mine. His influence is extraordinary. There'll not bea man here to-morrow; Saint Gavino will have all their time and money. "

"You don't expect any active mischief, I hope?" suggested DonFerdinando. 

The foreman thought not. He had heard no word of any. 

"Very well, then. I'll settle Domecq straight off, " said Don Ferdinando. 

He returned to the house and pocketed his revolver. They had to beprepared for all manner of emergencies in these wilds of Asturias, especially on the eves and morrows of Saints' days. But it didn't at allfollow that because Don Ferdinando pocketed his shooter he was likely tobe called upon to use it. 

The three were separating after this when a lad in a blue cotton jacketrose lazily from behind a heap of calamine just to the rear of them, andswung off towards the machinery on the edge of the precipice. 

"Pedro!" called the foreman, and, returning, the lad was asked if he hadbeen listening. 

He vowed that such a thought had not entered his head. He had beenasleep; that was all. 

"Very good!" said the foreman. "You may go, and it's fifty cents offyour wage list that your sleep out of season has cost you. "

Discipline at the mine had to be of the strictest. Any laxity, and thelaziest man was bound to start an epidemic of laziness. 

Don Ferdinando set off for the Vega, eight hundred feet sheer below themine. It was a ticklish zigzag, just to the left of the transportingmachinery, with twenty places in which a slip would mean death. 

Domecq was working down below, lading the stuff into bullock-carts. 

Alfred Cayley disappeared into one of the upper galleries, to see howthey were panning out. 

The snow mountains and the afternoon sun looked down upon a verypleasing scene of industry--blue-jacketed workers and heaps of ore; andupon Jim Cayley also, who had enjoyed his dinner so thoroughly that hedidn't think so much as before about his rejected information. 

But now again the Cuban kiddy drifted towards him, making for thezigzag. 

Jim hailed him. 

"Can't stop, Don Jimmy!" said Toro. But when he was some yards down, hebeckoned to Jim, who quickly joined him. 

They conferred on the edge of a ghastly precipice. 

"I'm off down to tell Domecq that it's going to be done at two-thirtyprompt, " said Toro. 

"What's going to be d--done?" asked Jimmy. 

"What I told you about. They've cut the 'phone down to the 'llano' as astart. But that's nothing. You just go and squat by the engine and seewhat happens. Guess they'll not mind you. "

To tell the truth, Jim was a trifle dazed. He didn't grapple the ins andouts of a conspiracy of Spanish miners just for the sake of a holiday. And as Toro couldn't wait (it was close on half-past two), Jim thoughthe might as well act on his advice. He liked to see the big buckets ofore swinging off into space from the mine level and making their fearfuljourney at a thrilling angle, down, down until, as mere specks, theyreached the transport and washing department of the mine in the Vega. Two empty buckets came up as two full ones went down, travelling with acertain sublimity along the double rope of woven wire. 

Jim sat down at a distance. He saw one cargo get right off--no more. 

Then he noticed that the men engaged at the engine were confabulating. He saw a gleam of instruments. Also he saw another full bucket hitchedon and sent down at the run. And then he saw the men furtively at workat something. 

Suddenly the cable snapped, flew out, yards high!

Jim saw this--and something more. Looking instantly towards the Vega hesaw the return bucket, hundreds of feet above the level, toss asomersault as it was freed of its tension and--this was horrible!--pitcha man head-foremost into the air. 

He cried out at the sight, and so did the rascals who had done theirrattening for a comparatively innocent purpose. 

But when he and a dozen others had made the desperate descent of thezigzag, they found that the dead man was Domecq. Even the miners had nolove for this arch-troubler, and, in trying to avoid Don Ferdinando, thesight of whom, coming down the track, had warned him of danger, Domecqhad done the mine the best turn possible. 

Toro's own warning was of course much too late. 

The tragedy had a great effect. Saint Gavino was neglected after all, and it was in very humble spirits that the ringleaders of the plotconfessed their sins and agreed to suffer the consequences. 

Jim by-and-by tried to tell his brother and Don Ferdinando that if onlythey had listened to him at dinner the "accident" might not havehappened. But he stammered so much again (Don Ferdinando was as stern asa headmaster) that he shut up. 

"It's--it's--nothing particu--ticu--_ticular_, Mr. Summerfield!" heexplained. 

Don Ferdinando was anything but depressed about Domecq's death; and Jimdidn't want to damp his spirits. Of course, if Domecq had really killedanother fellow only a few weeks ago, as was rumoured, he deserved thefate that had overtaken him. 

III

A VERY NARROW SHAVE

One winter's day in San Francisco my friend Halley, an enthusiastic shotwho had killed bears in India, came to me and said, "Let's go south. I'mtired of towns. Let's go south and have some real tip-top shooting. "

In the matter of sport, California in those days--thirty yearsago--differed widely from the California of to-day. Then, the sage brushof the foot-hills teemed with quail, and swans, geese, duck(canvas-back, mallard, teal, widgeon, and many other varieties)literally filled the lagoons and reed-beds, giving magnificent shootingas they flew in countless strings to and fro between the sea and thefresh water; whilst, farther inland, snipe were to be had in the swampsalmost "for the asking. " On the plains were antelope, and in the hillsand in the Sierra Nevadas, deer and bears, both cinnamon and grizzly. Verily a sportsman's paradise!

The next day saw us on board the little _Arizona_, bound for San Pedro, a forty-hours' trip down the coast. We took with us only shot-guns, meaning to try for nothing but small game. At San Pedro, the port forLos Angeles (Puebla de los Angeles, the "Town of the Angels"), welanded, and after a few days' camping by some lagoons near the sea, where we shot more duck than could easily be disposed of, we made ourway to that little old Spanish settlement, where we hired a horse andbuggy to take us inland. 

Our first stopping-place was at a sheep-ranche, about fifty miles fromLos Angeles, a very beautiful property, well grassed and watered, andconsisting chiefly of great plains through which flowed a crystal-clearriver, and surrounded on very side by the most picturesque of hills, 1, 000 to 1, 500 feet in height. 

The ranche was owned by a Scotsman, and his "weather-board" house wasnew and comfortable, but we found ourselves at the mercy of the mostconservative of Chinese cooks, whom no blandishments could induce togive us at our meals any of the duck or snipe we shot, but who stuckwith unwearying persistency to boiled pork and beans. And on boiled porkand beans he rang the changes, morning, noon, and night; that is to say, sometimes it was hot, and sometimes it was cold, but it was ever boiledpork and beans. At its best it is not a diet to dream about (though Ifound that a good deal of dreaming could be done _upon_ it), and as wefancied, after a few days, that any attraction which it might originallyhave possessed had quite faded and died, we resolved to push onelsewhere. 

The following night we reached a little place at the foot of the highermountains called Temescal, a very diminutive place, consisting, indeed, of but one small house. The surroundings, however, were very beautiful, and the presence of a hot sulphur-spring, bubbling up in the scrub notone hundred yards from the house, and making a most inviting naturalbath, coupled with the favourable reports of game of all kinds to begot, induced us to stop. And life was very pleasant there in the crispdry air, for the quail shooting was good, the scenery and weatherperfect, everything fresh and green and newly washed by a two days'rain, the food well cooked, and, nightly, after our day's shooting, werolled into the sulphur-spring and luxuriated in the hot water. 

But Halley's soul began to pine for higher things, for bigger game thanquail and duck. "Look here, " he said to me one day, "this is all verywell, you know, but why shouldn't we go after the deer amongst thehills? We've got some cartridges loaded with buckshot. And, my word! we_might_ get a grizzly. "

"All right, " I said, "I'm on, as far as deer are concerned, but hangyour grizzlies. I'm not going to tackle _them_ with a shot-gun. "

So it was arranged that next morning, before daylight, we should go, with a boy to guide us, up one of the numerous cañons in the mountains, to a place where we were assured deer came down to drink. 

It was a cold, clear, frosty morning when we started, the starsthrobbing and winking as they seem to do only during frost, and wetoiled, not particularly gaily, up the bed of a creek, stumbling in thedarkness and barking our shins over more boulders and big stones thanone would have believed existed in all creation. Just before dawn, whenthe grey light was beginning to show us more clearly where we weregoing, we saw in the sand of the creek fresh tracks of a large bear, thewater only then beginning to ooze into the prints left by his greatfeet, and I can hardly say that I gazed on them with the amount ofenthusiasm that Halley professed to feel. 

But bear was not in our contract, and we hurried on another half-mile orso, for already we were late if we meant to get the deer as they came todrink; and presently, on coming to a likely spot, where the cañonforked, Halley said, "This looks good enough. I'll stop here and sendthe boy back; you can go up the fork about half a mile and try there. "

And on I went, at last squatting down to wait behind a clump ofmanzanita scrub, close to a small pool where the creek widened. 

It was as gloomy and impressive a spot as one could find anywhere out ofa picture by Doré. The sombre pines crowded in on the little stream, elbowing and whispering, leaving overhead but a gap of clear sky; oneither hand the rugged sides of the cañon sloped steeply up amongst thetimber and thick undergrowth, and never the note of a bird broke asilence which seemed only to be emphasised by the faint sough of thewind in the tree tops. Minute dragged into minute, yet no deer camestealing down to drink, and rapidly the stillness and heart-chillinggloom were getting on my nerves; when, far up the steep side of thecañon opposite to me there came a faint sound, and a small stonetrickled hurriedly down into the water. 

"At last!" I thought. "At last!" And with a thumping heart and eager eyeI crouched forward, ready to fire, yet feeling somewhat of a sneak and acoward at the thought that the poor beast had no chance of escape. Lowerand nearer came the sound of the something still to me invisible, butthe sound, slight though it was, gave, somehow, the impression of bulk, and the strange, subdued, half-grunting snuffle was puzzling to senseson the alert for deer. Lower and nearer, and then--out into the open bythe shallow water he strolled--no deer, but a great grizzly. 

My first instinct was to fire and "chance it, " but then in steppeddiscretion (funk, if you will), and I remembered that at fifteen ortwenty yards buckshot would serve no end but to wound and rouse to furysuch an animal as a grizzly, who, perhaps of all wild beasts, is themost tenacious of life; and I remembered, too, tales told byCalifornians of death, or ghastly wounds, inflicted by grizzlies. 

My finger left the trigger, and I sat down--discreetly, and with nounnecessary noise. He was not in a hurry, but rooted about sedatelyamongst the undergrowth, now and again throwing up his muzzle andsniffing the air in a way that made me not unthankful that the faintbreeze blew from him to me, and not in the contrary direction. 

In due time--an age it seemed--after a false start or two, he went offup stream, and I, wisely concluding that this particular spot was, forthe present, an unlikely one for deer, followed his example, andrejoined Halley, who was patiently waiting where we had parted. 

"I've just seen a grizzly, Halley, " I said. 

"_Have_ you?" he almost yelled in his excitement. "Come on! We'll gethim. "

"I don't think I want any more of him, " said I, with becoming modesty. "_I'm_ going to see if I can't stalk a deer amongst the hills. They'remore in my line, I think. "

Halley looked at me--pity, a rather galling pity, in his eye--and, turning, went off alone after the bear, muttering to himself, whilst Ikept on my course downstream, over the boulders, certain in my own mindthat no more would be seen of that bear, and keeping a sharp look-out onthe surrounding country in case any deer should show themselves. 

I had gone barely half a mile when, on the spur of a hill, a long wayoff, I spotted a couple of deer browsing on the short grass, and I wason the point of starting what would have been a long and difficult, butvery pretty, stalk when I heard a noise behind me. 

Looking back, I saw Halley flying from boulder to boulder, travellingas if to "make time" were the one and only object of his life--runningafter a fashion that a man does but seldom. 

I waited till he was close to me, till his wild eyes and gasping mouthbred in me some of his panic, and then, after a hurried glance up thecreek, I, too, turned and fled for my life. 

For there, lumbering and rolling heavily along, came the bear, gainingat every stride, though evidently sorely hurt in one shoulder. But myflight ended almost as it began, for a boulder, more rugged than itsfellows, caught my toe and sent me sprawling, gun and cartridge-bag andself in an evil downfall. 

I picked myself up and grabbed for my gun, and, even as I got to myfeet, the racing Halley tripped and rolled over like a shot rabbit. Itwas too late for flight now, and I jumped for the nearest big boulder, scrambling up and facing round just in time to see the bear, fury in hiseyes, raise his huge bulk and close with Halley, who was struggling tohis feet. Before I could fire down came the great paw, and poor Halleycollapsed, his head, mercifully, untouched, but the bone of the upperarm showing through the torn cloth and streaming blood. 

I fired ere the brute could damage him further, fired my second barrelalmost with the first, but with no apparent result except to rouse theanimal to yet greater fury, and he turned, wild with rage, and came atme. A miserably insignificant pebble my boulder seemed then, and Iremember vaguely and hopelessly wondering why I hadn't climbed atree. But there was small time for speculation, as I hurriedly, and withhands that seemed to be "all thumbs, " tried to slip in a couple of freshcartridges. 

As is generally the case when one is in a tight place, one of the oldcases jammed and would not come out--they had been refilled, and had, besides, been wet a few days before, and my hands were clumsy in myhaste--and so, finally, I had to snap up the breech on but one freshcartridge, throw up the gun, and fire, as the bear was within ten feetof me. 

I fired, more by good luck, I think, than anything else, down his great, red, gaping mouth, and jumped for life as he crashed on to the rockwhere I had stood, crashed and lay, furiously struggling, the bloodpouring from his mouth and throat, for the buckshot, at quarters soclose, had inflicted a wound ten times more severe than would have beencaused by a bullet. 

[Illustration: I FIRED DOWN HIS GREAT, RED, GAPING MOUTH AND JUMPED FORLIFE. ]

It was quite evident that the bear was done, but, for the sake ofsafety--it does not do to leave anything to chance with such ananimal--I put two more shots into his head, and he ceased to struggle, agreat shudder passed over his enormous bulk, the muscles relaxed, and helay dead. 

Then I hurried to where Halley lay. Poor chap! He was far spent, andquite unconscious, nor was I doctor enough to know whether his woundswere likely to be fatal, and my very ignorance made them seem the moreterrible. I tore my shirt into bandages, and did what I could for him, succeeding after a time in stopping the worst of the bleeding; but Icould see very plainly that the left shoulder was terribly shattered, and I thought, with a groan, of the fifty weary miles that one must sendfor a doctor. 

Presently he began to come to, and I got him to swallow a little brandyfrom his flask, which revived him, and before long, after putting mycoat beneath his head, I left him and started for help. 

It was a nightmare, that run. Remorse tore me for having let him startafter the bear alone, and never could I get from my mind the horribledread that the slipping of one of my amateur bandages might re-start thebleeding, and that I should return to find only the lifeless body of myfriend; ever the fear was present that in the terribly rough bed of thecreek I might sprain my ankle, and so fail to bring help ere it was toolate. At times, too, my overstrung nerves were jarred by some suddensound in the undergrowth, or the stump of a tree on a hillside wouldstartle me by so exact a likeness to a bear, sitting up watching me, asto suggest to my mind the probability of another bear finding andmauling Halley whilst he lay helpless and alone. 

But if my nerves were shaken, my muscles and wind were in good order, and not even the most morbid self-consciousness could find fault withthe time spent on the journey. Luck favoured me, too, to this extent, that almost as I got on to the road, or, rather, track, about a milefrom the inn, I met, driving a buggy, and bound for Los Angeles, a manwhose acquaintance we had made a few days before, and who, with muchlurid language, had warned us against going after bear. 

His remarks now were more forcible than soothing or complimentary when Iexplained the matter to him during the drive to the inn, where hedropped me, himself going on for the doctor as fast as two horses couldtravel. 

It did not take us long to improvise a stretcher, and, with the willinghelp of two men and of the landlady, in about three hours we had Halleyin his room. But a hideous walk it was down the cañon, every step wemade wringing a groan from the poor fellow except when he fainted frompain. 

The doctor did not arrive till the following morning, by which time thewounds were in a dreadful condition, and it was touch and go for life, while the doctor at first had no hope of saving the arm. But youth, andtime, and a strong constitution pulled him through, and in a couple ofweeks he was strong enough to describe to me how he had fallen in withthe bear. 

He had gone, it seemed, not to where I had seen the animal, but up abranch cañon. At no great distance up he met the beast, making its wayleisurely across the creek, and, in his excitement, he fired bothbarrels into the bear's shoulder; and then the same thing happened thathad happened to me--those refilled cartridges had jammed, and there wasnothing for it but to run for his life. Luckily he had badly lamed theanimal, or his chance of escape would have been _nil_, and, as it was, in another two hundred yards the bear would have been into him. 

Some days after the accident, the first day that I could leave Halley'sbedside, I went out to see if it was possible to get the skin of thebear, but I found it badly torn, maybe by coyotes, and all that could begot as trophies were his claws. 

There they are now, hanging over the pipe-rack by the fireplace in mysnuggery in dear old England. 

IV

AN ADVENTURE IN ITALY

_A Fourth-form Boy's Holiday Yarn_

Last winter I had a stroke of real good luck. As a rule I'm not one ofthe lucky ones; but this time, for once, Fortune smiled on me--as oldCrabtree says, when he twigs some slip in my exercise, but can't bequite sure that I had borrowed another fellow's, just to see how muchbetter mine was than his!

It was this way. It was a beastly wet afternoon, and the Head wouldn'tgive me leave to go to the village. But I was bound to go, for I wantedsome wire to finish a cage I was making for my dormouse, who was runningloose in my play-box and making everything in an awful mess. So Islipped out, and, of course, got soaked. 

I couldn't go and change when I came back with the wire, as Crabtreewould then have twigged that I'd been out in the rain. So the end of itwas that I caught a chill and had to go into the infirmary. I wasawfully bad for a bit, and went off my head, I suppose--for the matercame and I didn't know her till I got better, and then she told me thatthe doctor had said I must go to Italy for the winter, as my lungs werevery weak, and she was going with me, and we should be there till Aprilor May. 

The Head told me he hoped I would take some books with me, and do alittle reading when I was better. You bet I did! The mater packed them, but they weren't much, the worse for wear when I brought them back toSt. Margaret's again. 

The Head also hoped I would use the opportunity to study Italianantiquities. I did take a look at some, but didn't think much of them. They took me at Rome to the Tarpeian Rock, but it wouldn't hurt a kid tobe chucked down there, let alone a traitor; and the Coliseum wantedlivening up with Buffalo Bill. The only antiquities I really cared forwere the old corpses and bones of the Capucini, which everybody knowsabout, but has not had the luck to see as I did. 

But I had a walk round so as to be able to say I'd seen the otherthings, and brag about them when they turned up in Virgil or Livy, andset old Crabtree right when he came a cropper over them, presuming onour knowing less than he did. There was too much for a fellow to do forhim to waste time over such rot as antiquities. You can always find asmany antiquities as you want in Smith's Dictionary. 

Before I went I swapped my dormouse with Jones ma. For his revolver. Icouldn't take the dormouse with me, and I knew you were bound to have arevolver when you risked your life among foreigners and brigands, whichItaly is full of, as everybody knows. Where should I be if I fell inwith a crew of them and hadn't a revolver? Besides, I was responsiblefor the mater. 

Jones ma. 's revolver wouldn't shoot, but it looked all right, and nobrigand will wait to see if your revolver will go off when you presentit at his head. All you have to do is to shout "Hands up!" and he eitherlets you take all the diamonds and things he has stolen from fools whohadn't revolvers, or runs away. I cut a slit in my trousers behind, andsewed in a pocket, and practised lugging the revolver out in a jiffy, and getting a bead on an imaginary brigand. I was pretty spry at it, andknew I should be all right. And it was just that revolver which savedme, as you will see. 

We travelled through Paris and a lot of other places, stopping at mostof them, for I was still rather weak, and the mater was fussy about myoverdoing it till we settled down at Sorrento. That's a place on the Bayof Naples, and just the loveliest bit of it--oranges everywhere. It'sten miles from Castellamare, the nearest railway-station, but the drivealong the edge of the bay, on a road cut into the cliffs hundreds offeet up, makes you feel like heaven. 

Vesuvius is quite near too, only that was no good, for the materwouldn't let me go there, which was a most aggravating shame, and aterrible waste of opportunity, which I told her she would regret everafter. The crater was as jolly as could be, making no end of a smoke, and pouring out lava like a regular old smelting-furnace; but she saidshe wasn't going to bring me out to Italy to cure a cold, only to haveme burnt up like one of those Johnnies they show you at Pompeii who werecaught years and years ago. As if I should have been such an ass as toget caught myself. 

What I was going to tell you about, however, was this. We had been atSorrento six or seven weeks, and I'd got to know the places round thatwere worth seeing, and a lot of the people too, who jabbered at youthirteen to the dozen, and only laughed when you couldn't make out whatthey were saying. I'd picked up some of their words--enough to get whatI wanted with, and that's the best way to learn a language; a jollysight better than fagging along with a grammar and stupid exercises, which are only full of things no fellow wants. 

So the mater had got used to letting me go about alone, and one morningshe found she wanted some things from Naples, and wasn't feeling up tothe journey. She wondered at breakfast if she could dare to let me gofor her. I didn't seem eager, for if they think you particularly want todo a thing, they are sure to try to stop you. So I sat quiet, though Icould hardly swallow my coffee--I was so keen to go. 

However, she wanted the things badly, and at last she had to ask me if Iwould go for her. It's always so: it doesn't matter how badly _you_ wanta thing, but when the mater or sister or aunt think they want someidiotic trash that everybody in his senses would rather be without, you've simply got to fetch it for them, or they'll die. 

She rather spoilt it by giving me half an hour's jawing as to what I wasto do, to take care of this or that, and not to get lost or miss thetrain--you know how they go on and spoil a fellow's pleasure--as if Icouldn't go to Naples and back without a woman having to tell me how todo it. I stood it all patiently though, for the sake of what was coming, and a high old time I had in Naples that day, I can tell you. 

I nearly missed my train back, catching it only by the skin of my teeth, and when I reached Castellamare I bargained with a driver-fellow to takeme to Sorrento for seven francs. He could speak English a bit. The materhad told me the fare for a carriage and two mules would be eight or tenfrancs; but I soon let him see that I wasn't going to be put on likethat, and as I was firm he had to come down to seven, and a _pourboire_, which is what we call a tip. So, ordering him to wake his mules up anddrive quick, for the January afternoon was getting on, I settled downthoroughly to enjoy the ride home. 

I have already told you how the road follows the coast-line, high up thecliffs, so that you look down hundreds of feet, almost sheer on to thewaves dashing against the rocks below. There's nothing but a low wall toprevent you pitching bang over and dashing yourself to bits, if you hadan accident. There are two or three villages between Castellamare andSorrento, and generally a lot of traffic; but, as it happened, wedidn't pass or meet much that afternoon; I suppose because it wasgetting late. 

The driver was chattering like a magpie about the swell villas andplaces we could see here and there white against the dark trees, but Iwasn't paying much attention, and at last he shut up. 

There's one bit of the road which always gave me the creeps, for it'swhere a man cut his son's throat and threw him over the cliff, two orthree years ago, for the sake of his insurance money. I was thinkingabout this, and almost wishing some one was with me after all--for therewasn't a soul in sight--when my heart gave a jump as the driversuddenly, at this very bit, pulled up, and, turning round, said with afiendish grin--

"You pay me 'leven francs for ze drive, signor. "

"Eleven? No, seven. You said seven. "

"Signor meestakes. 'Leven francs, signor, " and he opened the dirtyfingers of his left hand twice, and held up a thumb that looked as if ithadn't been washed since he was born. 

"Seven, " I firmly replied. "Not a centime more. Drive on!"

"Ze signor will pay 'leven francs, " he fiercely persisted, "seven for zedriver and four for ze cicerone, ze guide. "

"What guide? I've had no guide. "

"Me, signor. I am ze guide. 'Ave I not been telling of ze beautifulvillas and ze countrie?"

"You weren't asked to, " I retorted. "Nobody wanted it. "

"Zat does not mattaire. Ze signor will pay for ze cicerone. "

"I'll see you hanged first. "

"Zen we shall see. "

He turned his mules to the side of the road next the precipice. I caughta glimpse of an ugly knife in the handkerchief round his waist. In amoment I had whipped out my revolver, and levelled it straight for hishead. My word, how startled he was!

"Now drive on, " I said. 

He did, without a word, but turning as white as a sheet, --and made hisold mules fly as if they'd got Vesuvius a foot behind them all the way. I kept my revolver ready till we came to Meta, after which there areplenty of houses. 

When we drew up at the hotel I gave him his seven francs, and told himto think himself lucky that I didn't hand him over to the police. He hadpartly recovered by then, and had the cheek to grin and say--

"Ah, ze signor ees a genteelman, --he will give a poor Italiano a_pourboire_. "

But I didn't. 

I've often wondered since if he really meant to do for me. Anyhow, myrevolver saved me, and was worth a dormouse. 

V

THE TAPU-TREE

"The fish is just about cooked, " announced Fred Elliot, peering into thebig "billy" slung over their camp fire. "Now, if Dick would only hurryup with the water for the tea, I'd have supper ready in no time. "

"I wish supper were over and we well on our way to the surveyor's campat the other side of the lake, " was the impatient rejoinder of HughJervois, Dick's big brother. "This place isn't healthy for us after whathappened to-day. " And he applied himself still more vigorously to histask of putting into marching order the tent and various otheraccessories of their holiday "camping out" beside a remote and rarelyvisited New Zealand lake. 

"But surely that Maori Johnny wouldn't dare to do any of us a mischiefin cold blood?" cried Fred. 

"The police aren't exactly within coo-ee in these wilds, and you mustremember that your Maori Johnny happens to be Horoeka the _tohunga_(tohunga = wizard priest), who has got the Aohanga Maoris at his beckand call. The surveyors say he is stirring up his tribe to make troubleover the survey of the Ngotu block, and they had some hair-raisingstories to tell me of his superstitious cruelty. He is reallyhalf-crazed with fanaticism, they say, and if you bump up against any ofhis rotten notions, he'll stick at nothing in the way of vengeance. Asyou saw yourself, he'd have killed Dick this afternoon hadn't we twobeen there to chip in. "

"There's no doubt about that, " allowed Fred. "It was no end unlucky thathe should have caught Dick in the very act. "

"Oh, if I had only come in time to prevent the youngster hacking out hisname on that tree of all trees in the bush, " groaned Hugh. "The mosttremendously _tapu_ (tapu = sacred) thing in all New Zealand, in theAohanga Maoris' eyes!"

"But how was Dick to know?" urged Fred. "It just looked like any othertree; and who was to guess the meaning of the rubbishy bits of sticksand stones lying at the bottom of it? Oh, it's just too beastly that forsuch a trifle we've got to skip out of this jolly place! And there arethose monster trout in the bay below almost fighting to be first onone's hook! And there's----"

"I say, what on earth _can_ be keeping Dick?" broke in Hugh withstartling abruptness. "Suppose that Maori ruffian----" and a sudden fearsent him racing down the bush-covered slope with Fred Elliot at hisheels. 

"Dick! Coo-ee! Dick!" Their voices woke echoes in the silent bush, butno answer came to them. And there was no Dick at the little springtrickling into the lake. 

But the boy's hat lay on the ground beside his upturned "billy, " andthe fern about the spring looked as if it had been much trampled upon. 

"There has been a struggle here, " said Hugh Jervois, his face showingwhite beneath its tan. Stooping, he picked up a scrap of dyed flax andheld it out to Fred Elliot. 

"It's a bit of the fringe of the mat Horoeka was wearing thisafternoon, " he said quietly. "The Maori must have stolen on Dick whilehe was filling his 'billy, ' and carried him off. A thirteen-year-old boywould be a mere baby in the hands of that big, strong savage, and hecould easily stifle his cries. "

"He would not dare to harm Dick!" cried Fred passionately. 

Dick's brother said nothing, but his eyes eagerly searched the trampledground and the undergrowth about the spring. 

"Look! There is where the scoundrel has gone back into the bush withDick, " he cried. "The trail is distinct. " And he dashed forward into thedense undergrowth, followed by Fred. 

The trail was of the shortest and landed them on a well-beaten Maoritrack leading up through the bush. 

The two young men, following this track at a run, found that it broughtthem, at the end of a mile or so, to the chief _kainga_, or village, ofthe Aohanga Maoris. 

"It looks as if we had run our fox to earth, " cried Fred exultingly, asthey made for the gateway of the high wooden stockade--relic of the oldfighting days--which surrounded the _kainga_. 

The Maoris within the _kainga_ met them with sullen looks, for theirsoreness of feeling over the Government surveys now going on in theirdistrict had made them unfriendly to white faces. But it was impossibleto doubt that they were speaking truth when, in answer to Hugh's anxiousquestioning, they declared that no _pakeha_ (white man) had been nearthe _kainga_, and that they had seen nothing of Horoeka, their_tohunga_, since noon that day. They suggested indifferently that thewhite boy must have lost himself in the bush, and, at the same time, gave a sullen refusal to assist in searching for him. 

Before the two young men wrathfully turned their backs on the _kainga_, Hugh, who had a very fair knowledge of the Maori tongue, warned thenatives that the _pakeha_ law would punish them severely if theyknowingly allowed his young brother to be harmed. But they only repliedwith insolent laughter. 

For the next two hours Hugh and Fred desperately scoured the bush, shouting aloud at intervals on the off-chance that Dick might hear andbe able to send them some guiding cry in answer. But the only result oftheir labours was that they nearly got "bushed" themselves, and at lastthe fall of night made the absurdity of further search clear to them. 

Groping their way back to their broken-up camp, they lighted the lanternand got together a meal of sorts. But Hugh Jervois could not eat whileracked by the horrible uncertainty of his brother's fate, and he waitedimpatiently for the moon to rise to let him renew his apparentlyhopeless quest. 

Then, while Fred Elliot was speeding on a seven miles' tramp round theshore of the lake to the surveyors' camp to invoke the aid of the onlyother white men in that remote part of the country, Hugh Jervois hadmade his way to the Maori _kainga_. "It's my best chance of findingDick, " he had said to Fred. "Horoeka is sure to have returned to the_kainga_ by this time, and, by cunning or by force, I'll get out of thatcrazy ruffian what he has done with my brother. "

Reconnoitring the _kainga_ in the light of the risen moon Hughstealthily approached the palisade surrounding it. This was very old andbroken in many places, and, peering through a hole in it, the young mansaw a group of women and children lounging about the cooking-place inthe centre of the _marae_ or open space around which the _wharés_ (huts)were ranged. From the biggest of those _wharés_ came the sound of men'svoices, one at a time, in loud and eager talk. At once Hugh realisedthat a council was being held in the _wharé-runanga_, the assembly-hallof the village, and he instinctively divined that the subjects underdiscussion were poor little Dick's "crime" and his punishment, past orto come. 

Noiselessly skirting the palisade, Hugh came to a gap big enough to lethim squeeze through. Then he crept along between the palisade and thebacks of the scattered _wharés_--very cautiously, for he dreaded beingseen by the group about the fire--until at last he stood behind the big_wharé-runanga_. With his ear glued to its wall he listened to theexcited speeches being delivered within, and to sounds indicating thatdrinking was also going on--whisky supplied from some illicit still, doubtless. 

To his unspeakable thankfulness the young man gathered from the chanceremarks of one of the speakers that Dick, alive and uninjured, had beenbrought by Horoeka into the _kainga_ at nightfall, and was now shut upin one of the _wharés_. But a fierce speech of Horoeka's presently toldthe painfully interested eavesdropper that nothing less than death, attended by heathenish and gruesome ceremonies, would expiate the boy'soutrage on the _tapu_-tree, in the _tohunga's_ opinion. 

The other Maori speakers would evidently have been satisfied to seeksatisfaction in the shape of a money-compensation from the offender'sfamily, or the paternally minded New Zealand Government. But, half-madthough he was, Horoeka's influence with his fellow-tribesmen was verygreat. The rude eloquence with which he painted the terrible evils thatwould certainly fall on them and theirs if the violation of so mighty a_tapu_ was not avenged in blood, very soon had its effect on hissuperstitious hearers. 

When he went on to assure them that the _pakehas_ would be unable toprove that the boy had not lost himself and perished in the bush, theywithdrew all opposition to Horoeka's bloodthirsty demands, though thesewere rather dictated by his own crack-brained fancy than by Maori customand tradition. Presently, indeed, it became evident to Hugh that, whatwith drink and their _tohunga's_ wild oratory, the men were workingthemselves up into a fanatical frenzy that must speedily find vent inhorrible action. 

If Dick's life were to be saved he must be rescued at once! No time nowto await Fred Elliot's return with the surveyors and their men! Hughmust save his brother single-handed. But how was he to do it? For him, unarmed and unbacked by an authoritative show of numbers, to attempt anopen rescue would merely mean, in the natives' present state of mind, the death of both brothers. 

"If the worst comes, I won't let Dick die alone, " Hugh Jervois avowed. "But the worst shan't come. I must save Dick somehow. "

He cast desperate glances around. They showed him that the _marae_ wascompletely deserted now, the group about the cooking-place havingretired into the _wharés_ for the night. If he only knew which of thosesilent _wharés_ held Dick, a rescue was possible. To blunder on thewrong _wharé_ would only serve to arouse the _kainga_. 

"Oh, if I only knew which! If I only knew which!" Hugh groaned in agonyof mind. "And any moment those fiends may come and drag him out to hisdeath. "

Just then, as if in answer to his unspoken prayer, an unexpected soundarose. Poor little Dick, in sore straits, was striving to keep up hiscourage by whistling "Soldiers of Our Queen!"

Hugh's heart leaped within him. The quavering boyish whistle came fromthe third _wharé_ on his left, and, in an instant, he had reached thehut and was gently tapping on the door. Dick might not be alone, butthat chance had to be risked, for time was very precious. 

"It's Hugh, Dick, " he whispered. 

"Hugh! Oh, Hugh!" and in that choking cry Hugh could read the measure ofhis young brother's mental sufferings since he had last seen him. 

In a moment he had severed the flax fastening of the door, and burst into find Dick, securely tied hand and foot to a post in the centre of the_wharé_. Again Hugh's pocket-knife came into play, and Dick, freed ofhis bonds, fell, sobbing and crying, into his brother's arms. 

"Hush, Dick! No crying now!" whispered Hugh imperatively. "You've got toplay the man a little longer yet. Follow me. "

And the youngster, making a brave effort, pulled himself together andnoiselessly stole out of the _wharé_ after his brother. 

But evil chance chose that moment for the breaking up of the excitedcouncil in the _wharé-runanga_. Horoeka, stepping out into the _marae_to fetch his victim to the sacrifice, was just in time to see thatvictim disappearing round the corner of his prison-house. With a yell ofrage and surprise he gave chase, his colleagues running and shouting athis heels. 

Hugh Jervois, hearing them coming, abandoned hope for one instant. Thenext, he took heart again, for there beside him was the hole in thepalisade through which he had crept into the _kainga_ an hour before. Ina twinkling he had pushed Dick through and followed himself. And as theycrouched unseen outside, they heard the pursuit go wildly rushing pastinside, heedless of the low gap in the stockade which had been thebrothers' salvation. 

"They'll be out upon us in a moment, " cried Hugh. "Run, Dick! Run!"

Hand in hand they raced down the slope and plunged into the cover of thebush. Only just in time, however, for the next instant the moonlit slopebeneath the _kainga_ was alive with Maoris--men, women, andchildren--shouting and rushing about in a state of tremendousexcitement. It was for Dick alone they hunted, not knowing he had acompanion, and they were evidently mystified by the boy's swiftdisappearance. 

Presently the brothers, lying low in a dense tangle of ferns andcreepers, saw a number of the younger men, headed by Horoeka, streamingdown the track leading to the lake. But after a little time theyreturned, somewhat sobered and crestfallen, and rejoined the others, who had meanwhile gone inside the _kainga_. 

Then, feeling sure that the coast was clear, the brothers ventured tosteal cautiously out of earshot of the enemy and make their way downthrough the bush to the shores of the lake. There they were greeted withthe welcome sound of oars, and, shooting swiftly towards them throughthe moonlit waters, they saw the surveyors' boat, with Fred Elliot andhalf a dozen others in her. 

 * * * * *

"You see they are trying to carry off the thing just in the way I toldyou they'd do, " said the head surveyor to Hugh Jervois after theirdenunciatory visit to the _kainga_ in the early morning. "Horoeka, thearch-offender, has disappeared into remoter wilds, and the others laythe blame of it all on Horoeka. "

"Yes, " responded Hugh, "and even then the beggars have the impudence toswear, in the teeth of their talk last night in their _wharé-runanga_, that Horoeka only meant to give the _pakeha_ boy a good fright becausehe had done a mischief to the very _tapu_-tree in which lives the spiritof the tribe's great ancestor. "

"Well, " said the surveyor, "we've managed to give the tribe's young menand elders a good fright to-day, anyhow. My word! but their faces were apicture as we lovingly dwelt on the pains and penalties awaiting themfor their share in their _tohunga's_ outrage on your brother. I'll tellyou what it is, Jervois. Horoeka has to keep in hiding for his ownsake, and these beggars will have their hands so full, with a nicelittle charge like this to meet, that they won't care to make troublefor us when we come to the survey of the Ngotu block. "

"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good, " laughed Hugh. "But, all thesame, Dick may be excused for thinking that your unobstructed survey hasbeen dearly bought with the most horrid experience he is likely ever tohave in his life. "

VI

SOME PANTHER STORIES

The pages of literature devoted to sport and the hunting of wild gameteem with stories and instances of occasions when the hunted, driven todesperation and enraged to ferocity by wounds, turns, and itself becomesthe hunter and the avenger of its own hurts. 

Of all wild animals perhaps the most vindictive, the most cunning, andthe most dangerous to hunt is the panther; indeed, nine out of ten whohave had experience of shooting in all parts of the world will concedethat the pursuit of these animals is really more fraught with danger andhazard than that of even the tiger, lion, and elephant; and thefollowing is one of many instances, of yearly occurrence, of the manbehind the rifle not having it all his own way when drawn in actualcombat against the denizens of the jungles. 

It was drawing on towards the hot weather when my friend Blake, who hadbeen very seedy, thought that I might try to get a few days' leave andjoin him in a small shooting expedition into the jungles of southernIndia, where he was sure he would recover his lost strength andvitality, and so face the coming hot weather with a fair amount ofequanimity. 

The necessary leave being forthcoming, we consulted maps, arranged waysand means for a fortnight's camp--always a considerable thing inIndia--and, accompanied by two Sikhs and a Rajput orderly, with horses, guns, rifles, and dogs galore, after a day's journey in the trainreached the place from whence the remainder of our journey was to bedone by road. 

Our destination was a place called Bokeir, and constituted what is knownin India as a _jargir_, that is a tract of land which, together with therent roll and tribute of the villages therein comprised, is given to menwhose services have deserved well of their State. Such are known asjargirdars, and enjoy almost sovereign state in their little domains, receiving absolutely feudal devotion from their tenantry and dependants. 

We pitched our camp in the midst of a magnificent grove of mango-trees, which at the time of the year were covered with the green fruit. I wastold that before the famine of 1898-99 the grove comprised over twothousand trees; but at present there are about half that number. 

We then received and returned visits with the jargirdar, a Mahratta, andan exceedingly courteous and dignified man. We asked for and receivedpermission to shoot in his country, and in addition everything possiblewas done for our comfort, supplies of every description being at onceforthcoming. So tenacious were the people of the villages in theirdevotion to their chief that not a hand would have been raised to helpus nor a blade of grass given without an order from the head of thistiny State. 

Then we commenced our jungle campaign. The footmarks of a tiger andtigress, of a very large panther, of bear, sambar, and blue bullabounded in a wooded valley some six miles from the camp. We tied upyoung buffalo-calves, to attract the large Felidæ, and ultimately metwith success, for one morning we were having breakfast early when introtted one of our Sikhs who had gone before the peep of dawn to look atthe "kills. " He reported that one of the calves had been killed at fivethat morning; so, putting a hasty conclusion to our breakfast, we calledfor horses, saw to our rifles and cartridges, and rode away to the sceneof the early morning tragedy. 

Arrived at a village called Sirpali, we left our horses and proceeded onfoot up a lovely wooded valley filled with the bastard teak, thestrong-smelling moha-tree (from which the bears of these parts receivetheir chief sustenance), the giant mango, pipal and banyan. 

The awesome silence of the dense forest reigned supreme in the noondayheat. The whispered consultations and the occasional footfall of someone of the party on a dry teak-leaf seemed to echo for miles and tobreak rudely the well-nigh appalling quiet of the jungle. Here andthere, sometimes crossing our path, were the fresh footprints of deerand of antelope, of pig and the lordly sambar stag that had passed thisway last night to drink at a time when the presence of man does notdisturb the domain of the beasts of the forest. Here was a tree withdeep, clean marks all the way up its trunk, from which the sap was stilloozing, showing us that for some purpose a bear had climbed up it in theearly morning, though why we could not tell, as there was neither fruitnor leaf on its bare branches. 

And then a turn in the path brought us to the kill, to the tragedy of afew hours ago. Surely this is the work of a tiger--the broken neck, thetail bitten off and flung aside, the hind-quarters partly consumed? No, for there are only the marks of a panther's pads and none of any tiger. They lead away into some dense jungle in front, and from here we decideto work. 

Leaving the beaters here, we went by a circuitous way until we arrivedtwo or three hundred yards ahead of the direction the beat would take. Here we were nonplussed, for the jungle was so dense and theconfiguration of the ground such that there were many chances in favourof any animal that might be before the beat being able to make a verygood bid for eluding the enemy. 

However, we came to a place which appeared as good as any, and, as bothof us seemed to think that it would suit himself exceedingly well, wedrew lots, and, contrary to my usual luck, I drew the longer of the twopieces of grass and decided to remain, while Blake took up his positionabout fifty yards to my left. 

When shooting in the jungle, it is the practice of most to shoot from atree, not so much from a sense of added security--as both bears andpanthers think little of running up a tree and mauling you there--butfrom the better field of view you get. Accordingly, as there was a smalltree near, I ascended, and, because the footing was precarious and theposition unfavourable for a good shot, I buckled myself to a bough bymeans of one of my stirrup-leathers. This is a device, by the way, whichI can most thoroughly recommend to all, for it as often as not gives youfree use of your arms, and even enables you to swing right round toscore a shot at a running object. 

I had not long disposed myself thus, when the beat sprang into life witha suddenness and intensity which made me pretty sure that they haddisturbed some animal. The shouting, cat-calling, and tom-tommingincreased in violence, when all at once I heard a quick and ratherhurried tread, tread, tread over the dry teak-leaves, and, looking thatway, out of the dense jungle into the sunlit glade before me came alarge panther. 

I put up my rifle. It saw me, and crouched head on in some long, drygrass. It was a difficult shot, but I hazarded it. 

The beast turned and went up the bank to my right. "Missed, " thought I, and let it have my left barrel as it was moving past. "Missed again, " Ithought, and growled inwardly. 

I caught another glimpse of the brute as it went behind me, and to myrelief a crimson patch had appeared on its right side. I howled to thebeaters, who had now approached, to be careful, as a wounded panther wasin front of them, and, Blake joining me, we made them all sit down tokeep them out of harm's way. 

Accompanied by the two Sikhs, Blake and I began to stalk the woundedanimal. Where had it gone? Into that dense bit of jungle in front, apparently. So we began to cast around among the leaves. They at firstyielded no betraying footmarks, but at last a leaf was found with alarge spot of frothy blood, showing the animal's injury to have beenthrough the lungs. 

"Put a man up that tree, " I said; "the animal is badly hit and cannothave gone far. " But my advice was ignored. 

Then from a spot over which I had walked not a minute before there camea rush and a roar. Swinging round, I saw ten paces off Blake raise hisrifle and fire two barrels, but, alas! apparently without result. Downhe went before the savage rush of the beast, which began to worry him. 

Blake had fallen back on his elbows, and in the curve of his neck andright shoulder I could just see, though so near, the dark-spotted bodyof the panther. There was no time to lose. "Can I hit it without killingBlake?" I thought in an agony of uncertainty, but the hazard followedquick upon the thought, and bang, bang, went my two barrels. At the sametime the Sikh dafadar, Gopal Singh, with all the characteristic braveryof this magnificent race, ran in and beat the animal about the head withthe butt-end of Blake's shot-gun, which he was carrying at the time. 

All this was too much for the panther, who then left Blake and shambledaway. I threw down my own rifle and ran to Blake's assistance, when thepanther stopped and half turned towards us. 

"He's coming at me again, " Blake cried, and covered his face with hishands. We were all unarmed; like a fool I had left my rifle ten pacesbehind me, the Sikh's shot-gun was smashed to splinters, and Blake'srifle had fallen nobody knew where during the _mêlée_. But, fortunatelyfor us, and more especially for me, who was then nearest her, thepanther seemed to think better of it, and tumbled off into the jungle, as far as I could see very badly knocked about. 

Then we attended to Blake's injuries, which consisted of a large piecetorn from his left forearm, three great teeth-marks in his left thigh, and claw-marks all over his left calf. He was very brave, thoughbleeding a lot, and walked with our assistance towards the village untilone of the orderlies galloped up with the "charpai, " or native bed, Ihad sent for immediately the accident had occurred. Then on to camp, where I re-dressed his wounds, sprinkling them with boracic acid, whichwas, foolishly, all we had provided in the way of antiseptics. 

Then a "palki" or palankin arrived, lent by the jargirdar, who had alsosent his ten private carriers, and, accompanied by the dafadar, westarted for the railway, the nearest point of which was forty milesaway, and reached it at five the next morning, having experiencedthirteen hours of anxiety, dead weariness, exhausted palankin men, badand in some places non-existent roads, and, to crown all, one river toford. 

Blake has happily survived his injuries--always severe when inflicted bypanthers, as these animals' teeth and claws, from their habit of killingtheir prey and leaving it exposed for a day to the Indian sun, seldomfails to induce blood-poisoning, which few, if any, have been known tosurvive. 

The panther was found next day, quite dead, with three bullet-wounds inher--one in the chest, one through the ribs, and one through the bodyfrom the front left ribs to the left haunch; and that she was able to doall the damage she did testifies to the proverbial tenacity of life andferocity of these animals. The native of India will tell you, "The tigeris a janwár (animal), but the panther he is a shaitán (devil). "

Mr. Dickson Price, who had a narrow escape from a panther in 1905, thusdescribed the occurrence--

Owing to the stricter preservation of the jungles round Marpha, beastsof prey appear to have greatly increased in number the last year or so. 

Last November a travelling pedlar was killed on a path close by; whilethis year more than twenty head of cattle have been killed by tigersand panthers at Marpha and near by. This is a very serious loss to thepeople, who depend entirely upon their cattle for ploughing, etc. 

On February 22, just after the mela, some villagers from Kareli--avillage close to us--came to me asking me to shoot a tiger that hadkilled a fine plough-ox, and was causing great havoc. 

On arriving at the spot where the kill was, an examination of the markson the bullock showed that it was a panther and not a tiger that hadbeen at work. The place was in sight of the village and on the skirt ofa forest. We had a "machan" (platform) in a tree made, and at threeo'clock in the afternoon I climbed up with my native shikari or hunterand watched and waited until dark. 

About 8 p. M. It was pitch dark, and the animal could be heard munchingbeneath. I fired at a black object twice with no result, for we stillheard the beast going on with his dinner. I found later I had fired at abush, mistaking it for a panther in the darkness. The animal was eithertoo hungry to notice the shot, or had mistaken the sound for thunder. Later on the moon rose, and at half-past three in the morning a thirdshot took effect, for the animal went off badly wounded. Some timebefore that a heavy thunderstorm had come on, but, sheltered beneath ourrugs, we did not get really wet. We now slept, feeling our work wasdone. At sunrise the native hunter and I got down and examined the spot. 

While we were looking at the blood-marks a tremendous roar was heardclose by, and my native shikari calling out, "Tiger! tiger! tiger!"bolted and ran off to the village as fast as his heels could carry him. I climbed back into the machan, to watch the development of events. After some time about sixteen villagers came out to help, and we slowlyfollowed up the blood-trail. 

After piercing the thick jungle for about two hundred yards, at timeshaving to creep under the brushwood, we came to a narrow nala, orshallow watercourse with sandy bed, and we found out the cause of theconstant growling we had heard. A tiger also was tracking the panther, who every now and then stood at bay and attacked it. After some time thetiger, no doubt hearing us, turned aside. Suddenly I saw the woundedanimal scaling a tall and almost branchless tree, which appeared asthough it must have been at some time struck by lightning. The panther, no doubt, hoped to escape all its enemies in that way. It went to thetip-top, about forty feet or fifty feet from the ground. 

I fired, but the range was too long for my shot and ball gun. The firingfrightened the panther, which fell in descending when some fifteen feetfrom the ground. We all tracked on, hoping to get a chance of a furthershot. 

At last we came to a deep and thickly wooded nala, or watercourse, whichcurved like a horseshoe. The panther entered the watercourse at thecentre and turned along the bed to the left. We turned to the right andskirted along the outside of the course, as it was not safe to gonearer. We all advanced until we nearly reached the right limit of thehorseshoe bend, and then, leaving the trackers, I approached thewatercourse, hearing the beast at the other end about two hundred yardsaway. 

After waiting about twenty minutes looking for a spot to cross the deepnala it appears that the wounded animal slowly and silently doubled backalong the densely wooded watercourse and suddenly sprang out at me. Ifired and stepped back, falling, as I did so, into the watercourse. Thenext thing I remember was the panther seizing me by the arm and pullingme down as I arose, and beginning to claw my head. 

Then I saw on top of the panther my little fox-terrier Toby, tearinghard at the neck of the beast. The panther then left mauling me toattack the dog. I somehow jumped up, leaped out of the watercourse, rantowards the villagers, and fell down. They placed me on a charpoi, ornative bed, and carried me to my bungalow three miles away. Expressmessengers were at once despatched through the jungle and across thehills to Mandla, sixty miles away, for a doctor, who arrived on thefourth day after the accident. 

Meanwhile, all that could be done was done, and my wounds, of whichthere were fourteen, were dressed. Our good Dr. Hogan had me carriedinto Mandla, the journey taking two and a half days, and since then, Iam glad to say, I have been making a wonderful recovery. It is a greatmercy that my arm had not to be amputated, as I feared at first I shouldcertainly lose it. But though it is still much swollen, and so stiffthat I can only bend it a few inches, all is progressing well. 

My little dog escaped with a few scratches, having saved my life. Thepanther has either been eaten by the tiger, or has died of its wounds. The villagers were far too scared to follow it up after my fall. Itsbones, if not devoured by tigers or porcupines, will most likely befound higher up the nala than where we last saw it. 

A Panther-hunt, which had a somewhat unexpected conclusion, is narratedby the Rev. T. Fuller Bryant:--

At the outset I may explain that strictly it was not a panther thatfigures in this story, but that is the name--or more commonly"painter"--given to the puma, or cougar, of North America. At one timethis animal was as common all the country over as the fox is in Englandat present, and even more so, but as the result of the increase andspread of population it is now found only in remote parts, and isbecoming increasingly rare. 

Thirty years ago, however, when I resided in America, and when theincident happened which I am about to relate, there were considerablenumbers to be found in parts of the Alleghany Mountains, and notinfrequently an odd one would travel farther afield on a maraudingexpedition. 

At the time of which I write I was residing at Brookfield, about thirtymiles north of Utica. It was near the end of October, when, according tocustom, all were busy banking up the sides of their houses, and in otherways preparing for winter, when complaints began to be made by thefarmers of depredations among their sheep, by, as was supposed, some dogor dogs unknown. Hardly a morning came but some farmer or other foundhis flock reduced in this way, until the whole neighbourhood was rousedto excited indignation against the whole dog tribe. Suspicion fell inturn upon almost every poor cur of the neighbourhood, and many a poorcanine innocent was done to death, some by drowning, others by poison, and more by shooting; until it seemed as if all the sheep and dogs ofthe countryside would be wiped out. 

What served only to deepen the mystery was the fact that here and therea calf was killed and partly eaten, indicating that if it were the workof a dog it must be one of unusual size, strength, and ferocity. Soexasperated did the farmers become at length, that a meeting was held atBrookfield, at which it was resolved to offer a reward of two hundreddollars, "to any one killing the dog, _or other animal_, or giving suchinformation as would lead to its discovery. " The words "or other animal"had been inserted at the suggestion of a man who had heard unusualnoises at night proceeding from the Oneida Swamp, a desolate, denselywooded tract of country, extending to within a mile or so of hisdwelling. This circumstance had created in his mind the suspicion thatthe cause of all the trouble might not, after all, be a dog, but this hekept to himself. 

One morning my brother and I, with three others, started early for aday's shooting and hunting in some woods three or four miles north ofthe village; but having an engagement at home in the afternoon, I leftthe party soon after one o'clock. When within about two miles of thevillage I left the main road to take a short cut across the land of aman named John Vidler, an Englishman. 

During the early morning there had been a slight fall of snow, barelysufficient to cover the ground, but as it was so early in the seasonVidler had not taken his few sheep into winter quarters. These I foundapparently in a state of alarm, huddled together in a corner of a "lot"through which I had to pass. 

As I was about to climb the fence and leave the "lot, " I observed bloodon the ground, which probably would not have attracted my furtherattention but for recent events. On looking more closely, I coulddistinctly trace in the snow the footmarks of an animal resembling thoseof a dog, and which enabled me to follow the direction in which he hadgone. It occurred to me at once that this was probably the work of themysterious marauder. I knew of the reward of two hundred dollars, andmy finances were not such as to render me indifferent to the chance ofwinning it, so, with the spirit of the hunter strong within me, Istarted off upon the trail, which quickly led me to the edge of thewood, where it disappeared. 

It was clear that the animal had entered the wood. I suddenly reflectedupon the extraordinary size of the animal's foot, and when I coupledthat fact with the words in the offer of reward--"or other animal"--itoccurred to me that I might be hunting bigger and more formidable gamethan a dog. 

I confess to a strange feeling which made me pause. True, I had mytrusty gun with me, and a good supply of ammunition, but after a momentor two of reflection I decided to suspend the pursuit and go and tellJohn Vidler, and seek to associate him with me in further proceedings. 

In this I had no difficulty, for though Vidler, whose farm and abodewere remote and lonely, had heard only rumours of the events which hadso stirred the surrounding neighbourhood, it was enough for him that hewas now among the victims, so he quickly went to the stables, or "barn, "and brought out his old mare, and, throwing a buffalo skin, or "robe, "as such are called, across her back, he mounted, and away we went. 

I travelled afoot by his side. We picked up the trail where I had leftit--at the edge of the wood; but here our difficulty began, it beingbroken and indistinct, owing to the leaves which the snow was not thickenough to cover. 

We proceeded with great caution, and the trees being fairly wide apart, and the brush not very thick, Vidler remained mounted, whilst Icontinued at his side. It was evident from the tremulous excitement andfrequent sniffing of the mare that she was aware that something unusualwas up, and from this we inferred the need of a keen look-out. 

We had thus proceeded some three hundred yards, when we suddenly cameupon a dip in the ground. We each lifted our eyes from the land, whichwe had continued to closely scan for traces of the trail, when we werestartled by a snarl, and just ahead, lying under the trunk of a big treewhich had fallen across the dip, was a huge panther, apparently justawakened from its sleep by our approach. The brute was lashing its tailand quivering with rage, and was evidently preparing to spring upon us. 

Here, then, undoubtedly was the cause of all the recent trouble. For amoment the mare stood trembling with alarm, and the next she swunground, almost hurling Vidler from her back, and flew like the wind alongthe way by which we had come. Though it all took place in much less timethan it takes to record, every detail is indelibly registered on my mindtill this day. 

There was no time, even had I had the necessary self-possession, for meto take aim and fire, and had I done so it would almost certainly haveincreased the danger, for my gun was loaded only with a charge for apartridge or woodchuck. 

As the mare swung round away from me, I seized Vidler's foot, which wasmost fortunate both for him and myself, for it was my weight thatprevented him from being thrown, and, holding on for dear life, I wasdragged clear of danger. The suddenness of the movement jerked my gunfrom my grasp, and as Vidler possessed no weapon we were defenceless, and it would have been madness to think of returning for mine. 

It seemed but a moment before we reached the open "lot, " where withdifficulty we reined the mare in. After a brief deliberation we decidedto make our way to the village and organise a hunting-party. We made ourway to the store of Wack Stillman, a favourite rendezvous for theloafers and off-works. Here we found Orson Clark, one of the besthunters in all the countryside, with two others with a large strain ofthe swashbuckler in their characters, who were always ready forexcitement and adventure. 

As we agreed to divide the reward should we win, and believing that wefive were equal to it, we decided to keep the information and to confineoperations to ourselves. 

It was not long before we were off, each of us now armed either with hisown or a borrowed weapon. Reaching the wood, we agreed that, after wehad indicated the direction of the trail, Orson Clark, as the mostexperienced, should lead the way, the rest of us following at hisheels. 

As we approached the tree under which we had left the panther lying, thetension became so oppressive that each felt that he could hardlybreathe, nor were we much relieved to find our quarry gone, as we couldnot tell at what step we might come across him. "Keep close, men, "whispered Orson, as we continued to creep on, each with his finger onthe trigger of his gun. 

He had scarcely spoken the words when a most terrific roar, which seemedto come from the tree-tops near by, rent the air, and at the same time ashot rang out. As neither of our band had fired, we were puzzled to knowwhat it all meant, when a shrill, boyish voice shouted, from a littledistance ahead, "I've got him, father. He's dead!"

Rushing to the spot whence the shout proceeded, we were astonished tofind the thirteen-year-old son of Orson Clark standing, with an oldblunderbuss in his hands, in a triumphant attitude by the panther, whichlay as dead as a door-nail on the ground before him!

"What on earth does this mean?" exclaimed his father, as he took in thescene. 

It transpired that when Orson went home to get his rifle he told hiswife of the projected adventure, and the boy, who was in an adjoiningroom, overheard. The spirit of adventure inherited from his father wasimmediately aroused, and he determined to seek a share in theenterprise. Unobserved he took the old blunderbuss from itsresting-place and slipped out of the house, but, fearing that his fathermight forbid should his intentions be known, he made his way to thewood, keeping the hunting-party within his view whilst concealinghimself from theirs. 

Entering the wood, the daring youngster hunted on his own account. Keeping a little ahead and wide of the party, he came across the pantherup in a tree. He had no difficulty in attracting its attention, and, after contemplating each other for some moments, the savage brute wasabout to spring upon the boy as it gave the tremendous roar referred to. At the same moment the boy fired, the charge landing full in the heart, and bringing the great beast tumbling dead at his feet. 

When the father realised the situation, his feelings may be imagined. His first look at the boy indicated vexation at his recklessness, followed by admiration at his pluck and thankfulness for his escape fromalmost certain death had the shot failed to reach a vital part. However, matters were soon arranged. A rail from a snake-fence was procured, thepanther's legs were tied to it, and in this way he was borne to thevillage. 

The news quickly spread, and all the population, apparently, of thevillage assembled to see the sight and to hear the story. When thequestion came to be considered as to who was entitled to the reward oftwo hundred dollars, the verdict was unanimous that no one deserved itso much as Orson Clark's boy, and to him it was awarded. 

The skin of the panther was presented to the landlord of the hotel inthe village. He had it stuffed and placed in a large room in his house. For all I know, it remains there till this day. 

VII

A MIDNIGHT RIDE ON A CALIFORNIAN RANCHE

It was in San Benito County, California, or, to be more explicit, in theHernandez Valley, the nearest station to which is King City, "upcountry" from Los Angeles. My friend, Tom Bain, owned a cattle-ranche upthere, right in the valley which lies between the hills forming thecoastal range of California. 

It is high up, this beautiful valley. I arrived at King City over-night, and my old school pal, who had asked me to pay him a visit, met me atthe Central Saloon early next morning--so early, that we had breakfastedand were off in a pair-horse buckboard by seven o'clock. And then we hada fourteen hours' drive, climbing, ever climbing, with a dip here andthere as we negotiated the irregularities of the high country, the airbecoming cooler and crisper every hour, and so clear that you could seefor miles over the plains beneath. 

It is rather wonderful, this clearness of the atmosphere in WesternAmerica. In Arizona, I believe, the phenomenon is even more noticeable, at times. The trees stand out distinctly and almost individually onhills miles and miles away, and a camera speedily proves how really freeis the atmosphere of all visionary obstruction. A photograph of a horse, a bullock, or of any such object out on the hills, will secure areproduction of a background quite extraordinary in the extent andclearness of the picture. 

And it is a sweet, pure air to breathe--life-giving, and capable ofmaking the heart glad for the very joy of things. Driving over thesehills, although it took us from seven in the morning until nine o'clockat night to complete the journey, was anything but tiring to the humanphysique. Around and beyond, Nature spread herself in a delightfulpanorama of scenic beauty--

 "And every living thing did joy in life, And every thing of beauty did seem living. "

There were two or three other fellows on the ranche with my friend Bain. Fine, big fellows they were, too; loose-limbed and strong featured. Scarcely one of them was over five-and-twenty, yet you would have vowedthat such development in face, feature, and limb could not have beenattained before the age of thirty-five years. Silent, unassumingfellows, too, not welcoming me with a smile even, nor with the slightestdemonstration of friendliness beyond a grip of the hand that made mebegin to feel glad that I had brought my "Elliman's" with me. 

It is a peculiarity--at least, we think it a peculiarity--of the Westernman, that he rarely smiles. Perhaps it would be fairer to say that henever smiles unless there is something very positive to smile at. Heseems to have such large ideas concerning all things, and to suggest byhis manner, especially when you are out on the plains with him, that hecares more for his cattle, and for his horse particularly, than he doesfor you. Yet no man is more ready with a helping hand--and a hand thatis capable of doing most things a man's hand can do--than he; none morefull of sympathy and sincere kindliness. 

But he is an undemonstrative being, this man of the West, and you take along time to find out whether he likes you or not. If you are a"tenderfoot" you can't do better than hold your tongue about the wondersof Europe and its cities, about your own various exploits here andthere. You will learn a lot by not talking, and if you don't mindsoiling your hands a little, and keeping an eye lifted to discover theway in which things are done, you will get on very well on a Westerncattle-ranche. 

There was another ranche not far away, owned by an old settler, who hadhis wife and daughter with him. These were the only women within ourimmediate ken. She was a real child of the West, this old settler'sdaughter, and as sweet and dainty as she was capable; about twenty yearsof age, I should think, and looked after as much by every man on myfriend's ranche as she was by her own father. In fact, my friend Bainseemed to take more than a fatherly interest in her. She called himTom, and he called her Edna, though in this particular respect Tom wasnot privileged more than any of the other fellows. But her eyes werealways bright when Tom was near, and--but there, it was none of mybusiness. Only, as I said before, I kept one eye lifted for most things. 

Very soon I began really to enjoy the life very much, for its own sake. There were many things lacking in the matter of house accommodation andcomfort, compared with my English home; but it was jolly, real jolly. Inever felt so well and strong in all my life as when I was gallopingover those hills, on occasion of a general inspection of the ranche. Andit was a lark, I tell you, rounding up the cattle. 

Of course, all the fellows on the ranche could ride like--well, theycould ride anything. I got out of the road when there was any of theexpert business on, such as "cutting out, " and "corralling. " But I begangradually to feel my way in accomplishing their many tricks ofhorsemanship, and I was able, in course of time, to take a small part inthe work of the corral. 

I essayed to throw the lasso, or lariat, of course, as one of the veryfirst experiences in ranche life. It is one of the many interestingthings you must learn on a cattle-ranche--to use the lasso. Every mancarries his rope on his saddle, as a necessary--in fact, there, _the_most necessary--part of his equipment. A ranchero would as soon think ofriding off without his lasso as an English sportsman would think ofgoing partridge-shooting without his gun. 

It looks so easy, throwing the lasso. You begin first on foot, and tryto throw the rope over a post or something, not very far away. Aftermany hours, at the end of which time you know what it is to have anarm-ache--it may be many days, even many weeks, before you are able todo it--you succeed in lassoing your object two or three times insuccession. Ha! ha! You have conquered. You have discovered the knack atlast. And you hastily mount your horse to see if you can manage the realthing. 

You throw aside your practice rope, unwind the lasso from the horn ofthe saddle, and essay a "mounted" throw. Your patient animal remainsperfectly still and quiet. He seems to know you are a tenderfoot, and tofeel quite sure what is going to happen. You whirl your lasso round yourhead, and aim it at the horns of a harmless steer in the corral someyards away. But you look in vain to see the rope curl round yourparticular objective. Instead, it flops over your horse's ears, orsmacks you on the side of your own head. Oh, it was so easy on theground, too, when you left off!

And your horse is patient still. He even seems to be smiling quietly tohimself. After many more attempts, and with an arm that acheth much, yousucceed in affixing your rope round something, throwing from the saddle. At last you have managed it. 

Later on an opportunity occurs for the display of your prowess. You arein the corral with a bunch of moving beasts. You single out one as yourparticular victim. This time the beast is not standing still, and youthrow your lasso, carefully watching the fall as it whirls through theair. Poor animal! Instead of roping it by the horns, you nearly jerk itstail off! There are very many accomplishments that seem easy in thehands of an expert and which prove most difficult to the uninitiated, but I think the throwing of the lasso can claim more mysteries than mostothers. 

When out on an inspection of the ranche, reckoning up the stock, andseeing that all are able to secure sufficient food, it frequentlyhappens that some of the cattle will be missing. They get away into allsorts of places, some almost inaccessible among the hills, and if theyare not found and brought back to the pastures within easy reach of thecorral, they become wild, and then there is mischief to pay. They sneakdown late at night or in the small hours of the morning to the corn andwheat fields, break the fences, and trample the crops in a way thatspells disaster to many a settler. 

Some of the cattle belonging to my friend's ranche had gone astray inthis way, and we were unable to locate them. 

I remember we were sitting in our adobe house one evening, three or fourof us together. It was about seven o'clock, and we had been talking overmatters in connection with the decision of the "boss" to drive a bunchof cattle down to King City, where they would be entrained for 'Frisco. The "boss" was up at the other ranche. He had gone to ask the oldsettler to give us a hand with the cattle next day at the rodeo, or"round-up. "

He hadn't offered to take me with him. I suppose that was Edna's fault. Anyhow, we had been sitting there discussing things, when we heard Baincoming in, after unsaddling his horse, in quite a noisy mood. He wasmuttering hard, and I wondered what Edna had been saying to him. But itwasn't Edna at all. He had come down from the other ranche, higher upthe valley, and had passed the cornfields, in which he had noticedunusual movement. He had investigated, and had found that a bunch ofwild cattle had broken down the fences, and were eating and tramplingdown the corn. 

A hasty consultation decided that we should make a midnight raid on thebeasts, and take as many of them as we could capture down to King Citywith our own bunch. We had been feeling rather sleepy, but this newsmade us at once very much alive. However, we decided not to undertakethe raid until the next night. The wild cattle would be gone with themorning light, but they would return at dark. 

We went to bed, which meant simply rolling ourselves up in our blanketson the floor. I lay awake for some time anticipating the excitement ofthe next evening. It is not all play, this raiding of wild cattle. It isa risky business, and you must have expert lassoers to lead the way, orthere will be trouble. 

Next day we went up to the old settler's ranche, "Edna's house, " as wecalled it, up the valley, and there we secured the help of some of ourneighbour's men. We were there all the evening, waiting for the hour ofmidnight at which to sally forth. Edna had expressed a desire to cometoo! She was a fine horsewoman, and fearless, and she loved excitementof this sort. Tom promised to take care of her, so she was permitted tojoin our party. Lucky Tom!

As the little clock on the settler's mantelpiece struck twelve, wesaddled our horses and set off for the corn-brake. I was keen on seeinghow these fellows were going to capture the wild cattle, but I was tooinexperienced to take a very active part at the time. 

The corn-patch was right in the hollow of the valley, on a flat on theeastern bank of the dry bed of the river. We rode down together--never aword being spoken on the way--to where a group of oak-trees raised theirstately heads, and there we held our final council of war. Bain, anxiousto give a tenderfoot a chance of seeing as much of the proceedings aspossible, directed me to get off my horse and climb the bank, from whichI should obtain a view of the field and of the cattle as they werefeeding. I was very quiet, for the beasts have ears rather sharper thananything. Tom had given me his directions in a whisper. 

So I climbed the bank and looked over the cornfield, and there in thecentre I could see a small black mass of moving things, about threehundred yards away. I went quietly back to the river-bed, and found thatmost of the fellows had dismounted and were "cinching" up their saddles. 

A moment later I was told off with a vaquero (cowboy) to ride up the bedof a creek that ran at right-angles to the river and parallel with thecornfield. We were to try to "head" the cattle, and so prevent them frombreaking out of the field, up the hillside, and getting away into themountains again, where we should have had to leave them. 

The creek-bed was low, and afforded us good cover for three parts of theway. Then it shallowed, and we soon were able to see, from our horses, the cattle in the corn. We thought we had been very quiet indeed, but wenoticed a hurried movement among the beasts, and with a cry "They'reoff!" my companion dug his spurs into his horse and was off like thewind himself. And I after him. 

We dashed into the corn, and raced like mad to head the stampedingbeasts. It was the strangest sensation in the world, galloping in themoonlight through the waving corn, which was up to our horses'shoulders. It made me quite giddy for a second or two, but I gallopedmadly on after my companion, who, with his shrill cowboy yells, helpedthe roaring cattle to wake the midnight silences of the valley. Ijoined in the yelling, too, and, so soon as our voices were heard, therewas a chorus in reply from where we had left the rest of our party. 

"We shall never head them, " I cried. 

"Perhaps not, but we'll try, " answered the vaquero, as we tore onward. Ithought we had not the slightest hope of heading them. Up the hillsidewe tore to keep them on the flat ground, and at every leap over a roughincline I thought my horse would break his neck and mine too. But assurefooted as goats are those horses of the hills. At length, for somereason or other, the cattle wheeled and went back down towards theriver, and we, of course, followed. 

Suddenly, two of them broke away to the right, and I after them. Ithought I might be of some little use, even if I were not an expertlassoer. But those two wild cattle knew too much for me. They toreacross a gully, dashed up the other side and away at full gallop intothe hills. I let them go. If I had pursued them farther most probably Ishould not be writing this now. As it was, it was a marvel I had notbroken my neck. Only my splendid horse had saved me. 

So I rode back to the oak-trees, and there--there was not a sign oflife. All was as silent and still as if nothing had ever disturbedNature's quiet. I remember how beautiful was the night. A half-moonshone out in a clear sky, like a semicircle of pure, bright silver, thetops of the mountains were silhouetted against the sky as if they werecut out of cardboard, and all was so calm just then. You don't get suchlovely nights elsewhere. The moon has not the sterling brightness; theair not the clearness nor the stillness that it has there. 

Where were my companions? I did not know. My panting horse was glad toget breathing-space, so I sat there in the saddle, waiting. I pulled mycoat around my shoulders, for the air was chilly. It was then about 2A. M. 

A sharp sound disturbed my reverie--the sound of a horse's hoofsgalloping over the rocky river-bed. The rattle was so clear, sodistinct, in that atmosphere and at that hour, that I could hear it longbefore my eyes could detect anything, even in that bright moonlight. Then, in a few moments, there approached a horse at full gallop, withhis head low down and neck extended--at first apparently riderless, butas he came nearer I was startled to discover a black shape, hanging overthe off-side, and, as the frightened steed tore past me, I saw it was awoman. 

It was Edna. Who else could it be? Her left foot, still in the stirrup, had come right over the saddle with her as she fell, and she wasclinging desperately with her hands to the horse's long mane, but so lowdown that, at the pace, it seemed to be impossible for her to recover. 

Without a moment's thought of how I should save her, I galloped afterher maddened steed as hard as I could go. I was on an English saddle andwithout a lasso--since to me such a thing would have been of little useon such a risky expedition as we had undertaken; but I urged my horseonwards and galloped him at his utmost in an endeavour to head theother, when perhaps I might be able to clutch a rein and stop therunaway. But Edna's horse was the fleetest of any on the ranche;moreover, her light weight was a comparative advantage, and so I gainednot a whit on the horse with his imperilled burden. It was terrible. Howlong could the poor girl hang on like that? Not much longer, I was sure, yet prayed that she might have strength. 

Then, ahead of us, in the distant moonlight, I discerned other gallopingfigures. A horseman was pursuing at full speed along the bank a hugesteer that bellowed as it endeavoured to secure a free run up into thehills, there to be safe from its mortal enemy. I yelled at the top of myvoice, with all the breath I had left. 

Immediately the horseman pulled his horse back on its haunches and fromthe bank stared down at pursued and pursuer. In a twinkling he seemed torealise the situation, wheeled, and galloped down the bank at an anglecalculated to make it easier for him to get within reach of Edna'shorse. Then I saw it was Tom, and he must have guessed that it was Ednaahead of him, in a position of direst peril. How we had all becomeseparated I could not guess, and there was no time to wonder now. 

I saw Tom gather his loop in his right hand, holding the coil in hisleft, and begin to swing the loop round his head. What! was he going totake such a risk? To lasso the horse and check it suddenly when at a madgallop like that? Surely the animal would come to earth with a fearfulcrash, most probably on the side on which it was weighed down with itsburden. 

Then I saw the rope whirl through the air, and though it could have beenbut a moment, it seemed to hang there for minutes without falling. Thiswas the time for skill. If ever Tom should throw his lariat well, itmust be now. With unerring aim the rope was cast, and the loop settledover the head of the runaway, though the maddened animal was gallopingwith neck stretched full length and head low down. 

Gradually the rope tightened round its shoulders, Tom galloping his ownhorse hard behind. By the most skilful manipulation of the lariat, Edna's horse was compelled to slacken its pace, Tom getting nearer andnearer by degrees and taking in the slack until he was right alongside. He soon brought the runaway to a stand-still, and directed me to releaseEdna's foot from the stirrup, which I did. She sank to the ground, completely exhausted. And little wonder. Her hands were cut and bleedingwith the tenacious grip she had kept on the horse's mane, and it wassome time before she recovered sufficient strength to move. 

As soon as she was able, she told us that she had become separated fromthe other riders when galloping through the cornbrake, and a wild steerhad gored her horse in the side. This had so startled the animal that hereared, and then dashed off madly up the valley in the way I had seenher coming. She had fallen over, and as her foot had caught in thestirrup, she clutched her horse's long mane, and so saved herself frombeing dragged along the ground, and, probably, from a horrible death. 

We now were able to see that her horse had been badly ripped on the nearside, and from loss of blood and as the result of his long, mad gallop, the poor animal was in a bad way. He was led back to the ranche andthere cared for. 

It appeared that the others had galloped along on the other side of thefield until they had found that the cattle had turned. Then they waiteduntil they could get behind them, and, when this was managed, theysecured half a dozen of them with their lariats. 

One man had let go his lasso. This sometimes happens. In cases ofemergency a man has to let go his rope, and that is why the cowboyspractise picking up things from the ground at full gallop. It is notdone there for show; there is no gallery to play to. It is a necessaryaccomplishment. A man has lost his rope, the other end of it, perhaps, being round the horns of a steer. He gallops after it, as soon as he isclear of the bunch, and picks up the end at full speed. At the propertime he gives the lasso a turn round the horn of the saddle, pulls uphis well-trained horse, and the steer is jerked to his feet. It isneatly done--and it takes doing. 

Next day the cattle were all in the corrals, and the wild ones wereplaced in the bunch to be travelled down to King City. But the newcomerswere too unruly. They continually broke away _en route_, and gave somuch trouble that before our destination was reached we shot every oneof them. 

I left my friend's ranche shortly after this. I had had some experiencethat was worth winning, and I had gained a little knowledge of ranchelife of the West. 

Lately I received a delicate little wedding-card, neatly inscribed, andfigured with a design representing a coiled lariat. And from out of thecoil there peeped the daintily written words--"Tom and Edna. "

VIII

O'DONNELL'S REVENGE

Engineer Trevannion was annoyed; for the Works Committee at Berthwer, who managed the affairs of the new wharf in course of constructionthere, had written to announce that they had appointed an assistantengineer, and had added an expression of opinion that "Mr. Garstin wouldprove of exceptional aid in the theoretical department, leaving Mr. Trevannion more time for the practical work in the execution of which hehad given such satisfactory proof of his ability. "

Notwithstanding the sop to his feelings, Trevannion had grasped thesignificance of this communication, and resented it. He had been here, in sole charge, since the beginning; the chief engineer, who lived atthe other end of the town, only came round once a fortnight, sotrustworthy did he consider his subordinate. He had laboured at thedetailed plans, wrestled with measurements to scale, until his eyesached. He had stood about the works in all weathers, had exercised apersonal supervision over the men, and had never made a slip in hisweekly reports. 

To write the latter correctly, to keep the Committee informed of theamount of cement used, of fresh piles driven, of water pumped out, ofconcrete put in, to notify casualties, as they occurred, in a mannerthat might suggest the Committee's obligations under employers'liability, but did not harrow their feelings; to be at the works by nineo'clock every morning and not to leave till five; to be either in theiron shanty called the engineer's office, or supervising the making ofconcrete, or clambering about the massive beams and piles, or shoutingthrough the telephone, or interviewing the ganger, or doing one of thehundred other things that were in the day's work; surely this was allthat was required to be done, and he flattered himself that he had doneit very well. 

And now the Works Committee were going to foist an assistant on him. Assistant! The very name was a slight upon his capabilities, a slur onhis independence. Why had they treated him thus?

He thought he knew the reason, ridiculous as it appeared to him. The newwharf, which was to increase the already considerable importance ofBerthwer as a river port, had not proceeded very rapidly during the pastfew weeks. There had been difficulties--difficulties which Trevannionhad attributed to unforeseen circumstances. It was possible that theCommittee had attributed the difficulties to circumstances which oughtto have been foreseen. 

Herein lay the gist of his resentment at the new appointment. TheCommittee, while recognising his diligence, energy, and pluck, considered that he lacked some of the finer qualities of insight thatenable a man to forestall such difficulties and, when they occur, tomeet them with as small an expenditure of capital and labour aspossible. So they had appointed Garstin to help him; in other words, tosupply the brain qualities which they imagined he lacked. It was unfairand humiliating. 

"Some puling theoretician!" he muttered to himself, as he walked to theworks one winter morning. "Some dandy who can draw cubes and trianglesand cannot do anything else except come here--late probably--in anovercoat and comforter. One of those sickly office-desk beggars who areill half the time and useless the rest. Absolutely sickening!"

He strode along in a temper with which the weather harmonised. It wasgusty, bleak, and wet. Great pools of water lay on the rough roads inthe poor quarter of the town through which lay his route. In order toreach the works, he had to cross the river by means of a ferry-boat. When he reached the landing-stage on this particular morning, he couldsee the boat moored against the opposite bank, but there was no ferrymanin sight, and there was no response when he shouted. 

He shouted again and again. Then he turned up the collar of hisjacket--he disdained a greatcoat--and pulled his cap over his eyes, andused strong language to relieve his feelings. He was still blaming theriver, the ferryman, and anything else he could think of, when hebecame conscious of a light footfall, and, turning, saw a young manstanding by his side. 

"I can't make the ferryman hear, " he remarked in an aggrieved tone tothe newcomer, as if the latter was in some way responsible for the fact. "It's an awful nuisance--I am already late. I've never known him playthis trick before. "

"And I've been here ten minutes, " was the answer. "The man has eithergone away or gone to sleep. Hadn't we better get across some other way?There is a boat a few yards down. We might borrow it and scull ourselvesacross, that is, if you think----"

"Good idea!" exclaimed Trevannion. Then he hesitated. "You--you are notgoing to the wharf, are you?" he asked. 

"Yes--for the first time in my life. "

"Is your name Garstin?"

"That's it. Perhaps you can tell me----"

"I'm Trevannion, " briefly. "I didn't expect you quite so soon. Er--I'mglad to meet you. "

His eyes went to the heavy coat in which the lad--he was littlemore--was encased, to the fashionable bowler that contrasted with hisown tweed cap, to the umbrella that protected the bowler from thedripping rain--ay, even to the comforter. It was as he had feared. Garstin was an office-desk weakling, and a mere boy into the bargain. The Works Committee had added insult to the injury they did him. 

"Oh, you're Mr. Trevannion, " said the "insult, " shyly holding out agloved right hand. Trevannion took it limply and quickly let it drop. "Come on, " he said. "We will get across first and talk afterwards. "

The gruffness of his tone did not tend to encourage expansiveness on theother's part, and little more was said whilst they unmoored the boat androwed across, so the engineer had good opportunity for taking stock ofhis companion. The water was rough, and he judged from the clumsy way inwhich Garstin handled his oar and his apparent powerlessness to impartvigour to the stroke that muscular development had not formed part ofhis education. Trevannion stood six-foot-one in his stockings, and hisframe was well knit with muscles that were supple as well as strong;naturally, he believed that physical fitness was essential to a goodengineer, especially to an engineer in charge of a rather rough crew ofworkmen. He resolved by-and-by to recommend a course of Sandow to thenew hand. 

"Mind how you get out, " he said, when the boat bumped against the slimyladder that did duty for a stairway. "The steps are greasy, and thosetogs of yours are hardly suited to this job. "

Garstin flushed but made no remark, and Trevannion flattered himselfthat the hint would not be wasted. He had already decided that the newengineer would have to be taught many things. This was Lesson No. 1. 

Hardly had they scrambled on to the wharf when Trevannion's ganger cameup. 

"'Morning, sir. Can I speak to you a moment? There has been troublebetween O'Donnell and Peters. O'Donnell was drunk--leastways so Peterssays. Any'ow they got fighting and mauled each other pretty severe; infact Peters is in hospital. Thought you'd better hear of it, sir. "

"Quite right, " said Trevannion judicially. It was a common enough storyon the wharf, and he had heard it before without paying much attention, but now--he glanced at the slight figure beside him, who evidentlyrequired as many object-lessons as could be given--and decided that herelay the opportunity for giving Lesson No. 2. "Pay O'Donnell and sackhim, " he commanded. 

"Very good, sir, " said the ganger, moving away. 

"That's the way we have to treat our fellows here, " said Trevannion. "Summary justice, you know. They're a rough lot. Now come and see theoffice and the plans. "

Whatever Garstin may have thought of these proceedings, he said nothing, but followed submissively along the wharf. Perhaps, without knowing thepeculiar authority which had at the contractor's desire been vested inTrevannion, he wondered that any engineer should wield such powers. However, he had not much time for wondering, or indeed for anythingexcept the task of keeping pace with his nimble, long-legged comrade. Hekept stumbling over little heaps of granite and sand, over rails, alongwhich the travelling cranes moved ponderously, over bits of tarpaulinand old iron instruments, over every object, in fact, that Trevannionavoided with such apparent ease. 

Garstin was rather a distressful youth by the time the shanty wasreached, for the pace had been hot, and he had been impeded by the fatalgreatcoat and muffler. After divesting himself of these he stood stilland breathed hard in front of a cheerful coke fire, while Trevannionunrolled the plans and pinned them to the long, sloping desk occupyingone side of the room. 

When all was ready the engineer began to explain the plans in detail, elaborating the explanation with simpler explanation, getting throughthe sections one by one with slow precision, repeating his elucidationof black lines, red lines, and green lines, of the length, breadth, andnumbers of the piles, of the soil, subsoil, and sub-subsoil, thatreceived them; all this in the manner of one who is instructing a childin the rudiments of engineering science, for he had made up his mindthat Garstin would want a lot of instructing. 

Garstin seemed a patient listener, and Trevannion had almost begun toenjoy himself, when the former suddenly laid his finger on a certainspot and asked a question connected with water-pressure and the strengthof resisting force. Trevannion was surprised into returning what hethought was the correct answer. He was still more surprised when theother proceeded to prove by figures that that answer was incontestablyincorrect. 

This was the beginning. Garstin quickly found more questions to put onother points, more criticisms of Trevannion's replies. The latter atfirst made desperate efforts to crush him by assuming the calmsuperiority of the older hand. But with Garstin's logic it was uselessto be calm. It was worse than useless to try to be superior. Theintruder stuck to his guns with respectful pertinacity. Perhaps the firehad warmed his brain into unwonted activity; Trevannion found himselfwondering whether this was so, or whether it was a normal state--thelast thought was horrible!

At any rate, there was no doubt that within these four stuffy wallsGarstin was in his element. Trevannion clearly was not. In half an hourhis treasured theories had been picked to pieces and his stock ofargument was exhausted, whilst his rival appeared as fresh as thewoodwork. 

But the climax was reached when Section D came up for discussion. Thingshad not gone well with Section D in practice. Trevannion incautiouslyadmitted as much when he said that Section D represented a point on thewharf where the river persistently--more persistently than at otherpoints--forced its way into the cavity intended for good concrete. Garstin promptly demonstrated the probable reason why. This was toomuch. Trevannion shut up the demonstration by opening the door. 

"Phew!" he said. "Let's go out and get a little fresh air. We'll have alook at the section itself. "

He stepped out, followed by the other--meekly. 

It was still raining. Under the leaden sky the works looked more dismalthan ever. Lakes of water lay where there had been pools; rails andmachinery glistened as if they had been carefully oiled. A thicklight-brown river raced past. The echoing wind and the hoarse murmur ofthe gang at work on Section D mingled with the groaning and clatteringof the cranes. Garstin missed the warmth of the fire and shivered; hehad forgotten his overcoat; and he experienced only the mildestcuriosity in the surroundings. Trevannion walked rapidly and in silence. He was thinking mainly of how he could get his own back from thisusurper. 

They came to the edge of Section D. Below them yawned a huge pit withuneven walls sheer from top to bottom. Fronting them, on the river side, solid piles went down into an abyss that ended in black water; thesewere a barrier--a support to the wedge of earth that the mighty riverpressed against their backs. From the land side to the tops of the pilesstretched transverse beams, two and three yards apart; more beams lowerdown, constituting stays against the piles buckling; the whole a giantscaffolding embedded in the bowels of the earth. A few rough blocks ofconcrete peeped from the water below. Fountains spurted from between thepiles and splashed into the basin. 

Trevannion looked at the fountains and frowned. There would be work forthe pumps very shortly; there was always too much work for the pumps inSection D, and so too little time and opportunity for more progressivelabour. Then, disregarding the obviously slippery state of thetransverse beams, he stepped on to one of them, and stood poised for amoment over sixty feet of hungry voidness. 

"Come over to the other side, " he said to Garstin. "You cannot see whatis going on below from where you are. Why, what----?"

Garstin, after placing one foot on the beam, had drawn back, a leadenpallor showing unmistakably under his skin. 

Trevannion stared at him. The laugh, the jeer, that had risen in hisheart at this sudden failure of nerve never found expression. There wassomething in the young fellow's face that spoke of more than a qualm ofnervousness. It was a pitiful terror that met Trevannion's eyes--thepleading terror of a dumb, helpless animal before a human tormentor. 

For a moment the engineer stood irresolute. Two men, engaged in mixingcement a few yards distant, had laid down their spades, and, havingheard Trevannion's invitation to cross the beam, were looking at "thenew bloke" in mild wonder as to why he hesitated. A third was slowlytrundling a wheelbarrow full of sand towards them. Trevannion took inthese details in a flash--and realised their significance. Here was aneasy chance of shaming Garstin before the gang, of convicting him ofrank and unprofessional cowardice, of getting his own back again fromthe office-desk theoretician, yet--an uncontrollable impulse ofgenerosity prevented his seizing it. He stepped on to the bank and stoodbeside the fear-struck figure. 

"You _must_ come on, " he said in a whisper that was little more than abreath. "Pull yourself together. I'll hold you. "

An instant later, and for an instant only, the two stood together on thenarrow beam, Garstin a shrinking form, his every limb shaken bysomething more potent than the gusty wind, his face turned anywhere butdownwards. Trevannion did not hold him, but his hand rested reassuringlyon the other's quivering arm. For an instant only, and then Garstin waspushed on to the firm bank again and hurried towards the office. 

Trevannion talked jerkily as soon as they were out of earshot of thegang. "Sudden attack of funk--rather a bogie place on a slipperyday--might happen to anybody--get used to it--dance a jig on top of theking pile one day, and wonder how you could ever have been such a----"

"Coward, " finished Garstin quietly. 

"No-o, that's not exactly the word, " said Trevannion lamely, and waitedfor explanation or extenuation. 

But none came. It was as if the boy was quite aware of the cowardice, and did not wish his companion to consider it anything else. Trevannion's mind marvelled at the seeming abasement. 

A few days later Trevannion reported progress to his wife anent the newassistant, whom for some strange reason he had grown positively to like. 

"Wonderfully brainy chap, Garstin. He has helped me no end with SectionD--you know, where we have had all the trouble. With luck we shall haveit finished in a week or two. At the same time"--with conviction--"hewill never make a practical engineer. Wouldn't be any good in anemergency. No nerve--no nerve at all. Seems to go to bits directly hegets outside the office. Can't even look down into the section withoutholding on to something. If a crane starts anywhere near, it makes himjump, and as to being any good with the gang, why, he daren't speak toone of them. Only this afternoon, when O'Donnell came and blustered----"

"O'Donnell?" said his wife. 

"Yes--a man I sacked for being drunk and fighting. He came to the officethis afternoon and asked to be taken on again. He said he could get noother job, and his wife and children were starving. I told him that theregulations would not admit of his re-employment; besides, I hadreported him as dismissed and filled up the vacancy. Then he startedcursing and threatening that he would do for the wharf and for me too, unless I relented. Of course I didn't relent. I turned him out--he washalf-drunk. And there--what do you think?--there was Garstin with hishands covering his face, shivering and shaking as if he had seen aghost. 

"'I am sure that fellow means mischief, Mr. Trevannion, ' he muttered. 'I'm sure he does--I read it in his eyes. Hadn't you better take himback--just for the sake of his wife?'

"Of course I couldn't--wouldn't. But Garstin's a brainy beggar--oh, wonderfully brainy. "

 * * * * *

There came a certain Friday evening when the two men sat late in theiroffice, compiling the weekly report. Trevannion was in high good-humour;for had not their joint efforts, as he liked to call Garstin's usefulsuggestions, proved successful in ousting the river finally from SectionD? and was not that troublesome part of the wharf ready for goodconcrete as soon as it could be made? He had to record this gratifyingintelligence for the Committee's benefit, and he did it with a relish. 

"Nothing to fear now for the old section, " he remarked cheerfully. 

"Nothing but the unexpected collapse of a pile, " said Garstin. 

"Oh, that's impossible. "

"It's improbable. "

The report was finished and placed in its long envelope, and theyprepared to go home. Trevannion began to busy himself with a heavy oillantern. "I am going to have a look at the section on the way, " he said;"just to see that the river has not come over the top, " he addedjestingly. "It's a whim of mine. But don't come if you'd rather not. Ican join you at the steps. "

"Oh, I'll come, " said Garstin--without enthusiasm. 

The pair stepped out into the night, Trevannion locking the door behindhim. It was pitch-dark on the wharf. They could feel the presence of, rather than see, the river that flowed silently in front of them, andthey could roughly locate the far bank by the myriads of starry lightsthat showed Berthwer town beyond. A single red lamp glowed dully far tothe west; it belonged to a steamer that they had seen come to hermoorings in the afternoon. There were no other vessels showing lights. The rest was black with a blackness sentient of vague forms--animpenetrable wall of darkness that seemed to stand between them and theouter world. 

Picking their way carefully between débris and other impedimenta, theymade their way towards the section, and had covered half the distancewhen Garstin stopped. "Don't you hear something?" he asked. "I am almostsure I was not mistaken. It was like the sound of blows. There cannot beanybody there now, can there?"

Trevannion halted and listened. 

"I don't hear anything, " he said presently. "Besides, who could be onthe wharf now? You know the regulations, and the watchman is there toenforce them. "

"I think--the noise has stopped. "

Trevannion flashed the lantern on him suspiciously. "Nerves again" hadcome into his mind. However, he said nothing, but resumed his march, swinging his lantern this way and that, so as to gain a largercircumference of light. But suddenly he again stopped, as an unexpectedsound fell on his ears. 

"By jove--water!" he exclaimed, and broke into a run. 

Garstin followed as fast as he could, but, deprived of the light, hequickly came to grief over some old metal. When he picked himself up, the other was yards ahead, and after that he had to content himself withkeeping the lantern in view. 

The engineer reached Section D and stopped breathless on the brink. Hehad forgotten Garstin--had forgotten everything save that water wasagain forcing its way into the unhappy section. But how and where?Anxiously examining the opposite side with his lantern, he soondiscovered what the matter was, and the discovery caused him a thrill ofamazed horror. The "improbable thing" had happened. One of the piles wasbuckling--bending inwards--and the earth dam was surely, if slowly, giving way at this point. He turned to shout to Garstin. 

Then something hit him on the shoulder and he fell backwards intoSection D, wildly and vainly clutching at a beam to save himself. 

 * * * * *

"Trevannion! Trevannion!"

The voice of Garstin, office-desk theoretician, assistant-engineer--Trevannion was clear about that. What he did notrealise so clearly was what had happened to himself. He was lying facedownwards on something, with his arm under his breast--his left arm, that is--his right seemed to have disappeared. Likewise, though he wasconscious of a weight hanging downwards from his middle, he wonderedvaguely what had become of his legs. He felt a curious disinclination tostir. 

Yet the voice went on calling, and presently he was impelled to answer"Hello, Garstin. " Then, while he was still listening to the unfamiliarecho of his own voice, he heard just behind him a _splash, splash, splash_, and his left arm jerked itself spasmodically from beneath hisbreast, the hand simultaneously touching a substance that was hard, cold, and slimy. 

Then he realised. 

He was somewhere near the bottom of Section D. His body lay across oneof the lowest beams; his legs dangled in the water. Garstin wassomewhere above him, and the river was pouring steadily into thesection, splashing now with monotonous regularity. And the water wasrising--creeping up towards the level of the beam where he lay. 

Trevannion tried to raise himself by his right arm, but the limb gaveway with an agonising shoot of pain; it was broken. He remained stilland considered. Was the broken arm the extent of his injuries? The coldwater had numbed his legs beyond all feeling. They were so much deadweight attached to his body. Both might be fractured for all he knew. 

The main fact was that he was incapable of moving, of helping himself, at any rate until assistance came. And the water was rising, of course. Would rescue or the water arrive first?

He looked up painfully through the clammy gloom. Nothing save patches ofsky, seen between the black beams, greeted his eyes. There was no soundsave that of the water--_splash, splash, drip, drip_. For an instant thefear of death conquered him, and he almost shrieked. 

However, as physical exhaustion renewed its hold upon him, he grewcalmer. He began to recall what had happened. He had fallen into thesection--no--he had been pushed in. There flashed upon him the vision ofa sullen, black-haired labourer, whom he had refused to reinstate; thisact was O'Donnell's revenge. 

What had happened after that? The man would scarcely have had time tomake his escape before Garstin came up. Well, it did not matter--he hadheard Garstin's voice since in proof that he had survived any possibleencounter. And the absence of Garstin, the oppressive silence now?Garstin had gone for help, of course. A boy like that could do nothingby himself even if he had the nerve; and Garstin had none. However, hewould not be long in finding the watchman, and bringing him to therescue. They ought to be here now. They certainly ought to be here now. 

Nervously anxious, he listened for any sound of footfall or voice. DidGarstin realise the danger of the black water that was rising, everrising? Had he by any evil chance failed to find the watchman at hispost?

A smooth wave flowed slowly over the beam, and he shuddered. 

Suddenly--after hours, as it seemed--something flickered on the surfaceof the water in front of him. A shadowy white gleam it was. It dancedbefore his eyes like a mocking spirit--and was gone. But shortly itreappeared, and with it a lantern and a rope, with somebody clinging tothe end of the rope. Trevannion had just time to recognise the figure ofGarstin, swaying slowly above him, before he lost consciousness. 

 * * * * *

Garstin got him out, of course. But it was many days before Trevannionlearned the details of the rescue. 

It appeared that Garstin had arrived just in time to witness O'Donnell'streacherous attack, and to confront the infuriated man as he turned toretreat. In a blind frenzy the boy sprang at his enemy, and the latter, taken by surprise, went down with a crash, striking his head on a heapof stones, and lay senseless. 

Thereupon Garstin, with the one idea of rescuing Trevannion in his mind, hurried off to the watchman's hut--only to find that the fellow had lefthis post. However, he discovered there a lantern and a coil of rope, and, taking these, he returned to Section D, resolved to attempt therescue by himself. Having shouted and received a reply, he hitched oneend of the rope to a beam, and was about to lower himself down, when hediscovered that the rope was so badly frayed in its centre that it couldnot be trusted to bear even his slight weight. 

There was nothing to be done save to postpone the attempt till he hadfound a more substantial cable. He remembered that there was a length ortwo in the office, and thither he set out at once. The door being lockedand Trevannion having the key is his pocket, he had to force the lock asbest he could with the first implement he could lay hands on. 

This occupied several minutes, and when he returned to the section, hewas tormented by the fear that he might find Trevannion drowned. Hehastily affixed the new rope, and let himself down into the abyss, wherehe discovered Trevannion insensible, with his forehead almost touchingthe water. 

It did not take long to make a noose and slip it over the latter'sshoulders, but he had hardly done so when a gush of water swept over thebeam, carrying away the lantern and plunging them into total darkness. For some subsequent seconds the boy clutched the rope and Trevannion'slifeless body in an agony of terror and doubt. 

Then he started to climb up. The process proved exceedingly laborious, for the hemp was thin and damp, and it was difficult to obtain a grip. However, he managed to reach the summit and clambered over the brink, then paused awhile for some little breath and strength before essayingthe hardest task of all--the hauling of Trevannion into safety. 

How his puny strength enabled him to do this, he never could say. Hisfoothold was none too secure, and the only available leverage was anarrow piece of masonry that jutted from the side. Yet, working inch byinch, he accomplished it, and when Trevannion had been broughtsufficiently near the top, he made the rope fast to a convenient blockof granite, and, kneeling down, regardless of his own peril, lifted himover the side. It was quite ten minutes before he could stagger with hisburden to the office. 

Safely inside, he made up the fire and telephoned for the doctor. Thenhe remembered O'Donnell, and spoke a message to the police-station, whence were presently despatched a couple of constables who found theman, stunned and considerably bruised. Neither did he forget SectionD--with the result that there was a breakdown gang on the spot beforemidnight. 

The buckled pile was found to have been nearly chopped through a fewfeet from the top, and there was no doubt that if O'Donnell had beenundisturbed, he would have done the most serious mischief to the work. As it was, the completion of the section was delayed for two months. 

Trevannion heard this story during his convalescence--a lengthy period, since two ribs were broken as well as the arm, and he had sufferedseverely from shock and exposure. In answer to a question Garstin saidthat at the time he had scarcely noticed the physical strain. The thingthat was uppermost in his mind was the fear that Trevannion might drownbefore he could get to him. No, he had experienced no personal sensationof nervousness, when preparing to descend into the section. WhereuponTrevannion thought deeply. 

"I owe my life to your pluck, and I was a fool to faint at the criticalmoment, " was all he said. 

But, as has been remarked, his thoughts were many and profound. Nor washe ever again heard to reflect on Garstin's "want of nerve. "

IX

MY ADVENTURE WITH A LION

I once served an apprenticeship on a New York newspaper, and some of myexperiences as a reporter on the _Evening Smile_ I shall never forget. 

A reporter on an American newspaper is like a soldier--he is expected toobey orders implicitly, even at the risk of his life. For this reason heis paid well, but a nervous reporter often goes out of the office withhis heart in his mouth and an "assignment" that makes him thinkseriously of taking out another insurance policy on his life. 

One gloomy winter's morning I got down to the office at eight o'clock asusual, and had hardly reached my desk when the news editor--a kind man, who was always giving me opportunities of distinguishing myself--came upand began to speak at once in a very mysterious voice. 

"Got a dandy assignment for you this morning, " he said. 

I looked up gratefully. 

"I guess you carry a six-shooter, don't you?" he asked. "You may need itthis trip. "

"Oh!" I managed to gasp. 

"A lion's escaped, " he went on, in the quick, nervous American way ofan American news editor. 

"Has it really?" I said, wondering what was coming next. 

"Jaffray's Circus came to town last night, the lion somehow got out, andthey've been chasing it all night. Got it cornered in a stable at last, somewhere in East 19th Street; but it attacked and mauled a valuablehorse there, and I understand is still at bay. That's all I know. Get upthere as quick as you like, and get us a regular blazing story of it. You can run to a column, " he added over his shoulder, as he returned tohis desk to distribute the other morning assignments, "and let's haveyour copy down by messenger in time for the first edition. "

No one ever disputed with the news editor, or asked unnecessaryquestions, but many a reporter did a lot of steady thinking when he gotoutside the office and safely on to the doorstep. 

I crammed my pocket full of paper from the big heap at the middle table, and swaggered out of the room with my nose in the air, as though huntingescaped lions was a little matter I attended to every day of my life, and that did not disturb me an atom. 

An overhead train soon rattled me up to East 19th Street, but it wassome time before I found the stable where the lion awaited me, for 19thStreet runs from Broadway down to the East River, and is a mile or twoin length, and full of stables. Not far from the corner of IrvingPlace, however, I got on to the scent of my quarry, and I had hardlyjoined the group that had collected at the corner before a noise likedistant thunder rose on the air, and every single person in the groupturned tail and began to run for safety. 

"What's the trouble?" I asked of a man as he dashed past me. 

"Lion in that stable!" he shouted, pointing to the big wooden doorsacross the road. "Escaped from the circus. Savage as they make 'em. Killed a trotting-horse in there, and no one can get near it. They sayit's a man-eater, too!"

Another roar burst out as he spoke, and the crowd that had begun tocollect again scattered in an instant in all directions. There was nodoubt about that sound: it was a genuine lion's roar, and it soundeddeeper, I thought, than any roar I had ever heard before. 

But news was news, and in this case news was bread-and-butter. I mustget the facts, and be quick about it, too, for my copy had to be writtenout and in the office of the _Evening Smile_ in time for the firstedition. There was barely an hour in which to do the whole business. 

I forced my way through the crowd now gathering again on the corner, andmade my way across the road to where a group of men was standing not farfrom the stable doors. They moved about a bit when the roars came, butnone of them ran, and I noticed some of them had pistols in their hands, and some heavy crowbars, and other weapons. Evidently, I judged, theywere men connected with the circus, and I joined the group andexplained my mission. 

"Well, that's right enough, " said one of them. "You've got a grandnewspaper story this time. Old Yellow Hair's in there, sure pop! And, what's more, I don't see how we're ever going to get him out again. "

"The horse must be stiff by now, " said another. "He was mauled half todeath an hour ago. "

"It'd be a shame to have to shoot him, " added a third, meaning the lion. "He's the best animal in the whole circus; but he is awful savage. "

"That's a fact, " chimed in a fourth. "There's no flies on old YellowHair. "

Some one touched me on the arm and introduced himself as a reporter fromthe _Evening Grin_--a fellow-worker in distress. He said he didn't likethe job at all. He wanted us to go off and concoct a "fake story. " But Iwouldn't agree to this, and it fell through; for unless all the eveningpapers conspire to write the same story there's always trouble at theoffice when the reporters get back. 

Other reporters kept joining the group, and in twenty minutes from thetime of my arrival on the scene there must have been a good dozen of us. Every paper in town was represented. It was a first-class news story, and the men who were paid by space were already working hard to improveits value by getting new details, such as the animal's history andpedigree, names of previous victims, human or otherwise, thedescription and family history of its favourite keeper, and every otherimaginable detail under the sun. 

"There's an empty loft above the stable, " said one of the circus men, pointing to a smaller door on the storey above; and before ten minuteshad passed some one arrived with a ladder, and the string of unwillingreporters was soon seen climbing up the rungs and disappearing like ratsinto a hole through the door of the loft. We drew lots for places, and Icame fifth. 

Before going up, however, I had got a messenger-boy stationed in thestreet below to catch my "copy" and hurry off with it to the _EveningSmile_ as soon as I could compose the wonderful story and throw it downto him. The reporter on an evening paper in New York has to write his"stuff, " as we called it, in wonderful and terrible places, and underall sorts of conditions. The only rules he must bear in mind are: Getthe news, and get it _quick_. Accuracy is a mere detail for latereditions--or not at all. 

The loft was dark and small, and we only just managed to squeeze in. Itsmelt pleasantly of hay. But there was another odour besides, that noone understood at first, and that was decidedly unpleasant. Overheadwere thick rafters. I think every one of us noticed these before henoticed anything else, for the instant the roar of that lion sounded upthrough the boards under our feet the reporters scattered like chaffbefore the wind, and scuttled up into those rafters with a speed, anddust, and clatter I have never seen equalled. It was like sparrowsflying from the sudden onslaught of a cat. 

Fat men, lean men, long men, short men--I never saw such a collection ofnews-gatherers; smart men from the big papers, shabby fellows from thegutter press, hats flying, papers fluttering; and in less than a secondafter the roar was heard there was not a solitary figure to be seen onthe floor. Every single man had gone aloft. 

We all came down again when the roar ceased, and with subsequent roarswe got a little more accustomed to the shaking of the boards under ourfeet. But the first time at such close quarters, with only a shakywooden roof between us and "old Yellow Hair, " was no joke, and we allbehaved naturally and without pose or affectation, and ran for safety, or rather climbed for it. 

There was a trap-door in the floor through which, I suppose, the hay waspassed down to the horses under normal circumstances. One by one wecrawled on all-fours to this trap-door and peered through. The scenebelow I can see to this day. As soon as one's eyes got a littleaccustomed to the gloom the outline of the stalls became first visible. Then a human figure seated on the top of an old refrigerator, with apistol in one hand, pointed at a corner opposite, came into view. Thenanother man, seated astride the division between the stalls, could beseen. And last, but not least, I saw the dark mass on the floor in thefar corner, where the dead horse lay mangled and the monster of a lionsprawled across his carcass, with great paws outstretched, and shiningeyes. 

From time to time the man on the ice-box fired his pistol, and everytime he did this the lion roared, and the reporters flew and climbedaloft. The trap-door was never occupied a single second after the roarbegan, and as the number of persons in the loft increased and the thinwooden floor began to bend and shake, a number of these adventurousnews-gatherers remained aloft and never put foot to ground. Braverreporters threw their copy out of the door to the messenger-boys below, and every time this feat was accomplished the crowd, safely watching onthe corners opposite, cheered and clapped their hands. A steady streamof writing dropped from that loft-door and poured all the morning intothe offices of the evening newspapers; while the morning-newspaper mensat quietly and looked on, knowing that they could write up their ownaccount later from the reports in the evening sheets. 

The men in the stable below, occupying positions of great peril, were, of course, connected with the travelling circus. We shouted downquestions to them, but more often got a pistol-shot instead of a voiceby way of reply. Where all those bullets went to was a matter foranxious speculation amongst us, and the roaring of the lion combinedwith the reports of the six-shooter to keep us fairly dancing on thatwooden floor as if we were practising a cake-walk. 

A sound of cheering from the crowd outside, swelling momentarily as theneighbourhood awoke to the situation, brought us with a rush to the topof the ladder. 

"It's the strong man!" cried several voices. "The strong man of thecircus. He'll fix up the lion quick enough. Give him a chance!"

A huge man, who, rightly enough, proved to be the performing strong manof the circus, was seen making his way through the crowd, askingquestions as he went. A pathway opened up for him as if by magic, and, carrying a mighty iron crowbar, he reached the foot of the ladder andbegan to climb up. 

Thrilled by the sight of this monster with the determined-looking jaw, adozen men rushed forward to hold the bottom of the ladder while heascended; but when he was about half-way up, the lion was inconsiderateenough to give forth a most terrifying roar, with the immediate resultthat the men holding the ladder turned tail with one accord and fled. The ladder slipped a few inches, and the ascending Samson, crowbar andall, very neatly came to the ground with a crash. Fortunately, however, he just managed to grab the ledge of the door, and a dozen reportersseized him by the shoulders and dragged him, safe, but a trifleundignified, into the loft. 

Talking very loud, and referring to the lion with a richness of epithetsI have never heard equalled before or since, he crossed the floor andbegan to squeeze through the hole into the dangerous region below. In amoment he was hanging with legs dangling, and a second later haddropped heavily into a pile of hay underneath him. We lowered thecrowbar to him, breathless with admiration; and then a strange thinghappened. For, while the lion roared and the pistols banged, and wereporters tumbled over each other to get a glimpse of the attack of thelion on the strong man, or _vice versa_, lo! a voice below shouted toclose the trap, and the same instant a board from below shot across theopening and completely obliterated our view. 

"We'll have to fake that part of the fight, " said a reporter. "Must allagree on the same yarn. "

The sounds from below prevented the details being agreed upon just atthat moment, for such a hoolabaloo as we then heard is simplyindescribable--shooting, lion roaring, strong man shouting, crowbarclanging, and the sound of breaking wood and heavy bodies falling. 

Outside the crowd heard it too, and remained absolutely silent. Most ofthem, indeed, had vanished! Every minute they expected to see the doorsburst open and the enraged animal rush out with the strong man betweenhis jaws, and their silence was accordingly explained by their absence. 

At least half of the reporters were still among the rafters when thetrap-door shot back in the floor, and a voice cried breathlessly thatthe strong man had caged the lion. 

It was, indeed, a thrilling moment. We clambered down the ladder and outinto the street just in time to see the great doors open and aprocession emerge that was worth all the travelling circuses in theworld put together to see. 

First came the trainer, with a pistol in either hand. Following him wasthe man with the small crowbar who had sat on the division between thestalls. Then came a great iron cage, which had been in the stable allthe time, but a little out of our line of vision in a dark corner, sothat no one had observed it. 

In this cage lay the huge exhausted lion, panting, on its side, withlather dripping from its great jaws. 

And on the top of the cage, seated tailor-wise, dressed in a very loudcheck ulster, and wearing a bell-shaped opera-hat on the side of hishead, was the proud figure of the victorious strong man. The expressionon his face was worth painting, but it is wholly beyond me to describeit. Such exultation and glorious pride was worthy of the mightiestgladiator that ever fought in an arena. 

His long curly hair, shining with oil, escaped in disorder from hismarvellously shaped top hat, and the massive crowbar that had broughthim his hard-won victory stood upright on one end, grasped in hisgigantic hand. He smiled round on the gathering crowd, and theprocession moved proudly up the streets till within half an hour thepeople following and cheering must have numbered many thousands. 

We reporters rushed off to our various offices, and the streets weresoon afterwards lively with newspaper-boys shouting the news and wavingsheets of terrible and alarming headlines about the "escaped lion andits fearful ravages, " and the "strong man who had captured it after aghastly battle for his life. "

Next day the morning papers did not publish a solitary line about thegreat event; but in the advertising columns of every newspaper appearedthe prospectus of the travelling circus just come to town, and inparticularly bold type the public were told to be sure and see YellowHair, the savage man-eating lion, that had escaped the day before andkilled a valuable horse in a private stable where it had been chased bythe terrified keepers; and, in the paragraph below, the details followedof the wonderful strong man, Samson, who had caught and caged the lionsingle-handed, armed only with a crowbar. 

It was the best advertisement a circus ever had; and most of it was notpaid for!

 * * * * *

"Guess you knew it was all a fake?" queried the news editor nextmorning, as he gave me the usual assignment. 

It was my first week on an American paper, and I stared at him, waitingfor the rest. 

"That lion hasn't a tooth in its head. They dragged in a dead horse inthe night. You wrote a good story, though. Cleaned your pistol yet?"

X

THE SECRET CAVE OF HYDAS

CHAPTER I. --THE FIGHT AND THEFT IN THE MUSEUM

A tall, muscular, black-bearded, dark-eyed, beak-nosed native strolledinto the Lahore Museum, in the Punjab; he carried a massivefive-foot-long stick with a crook handle, and studded with shortbrass-headed nails from handle to ferrule. He sauntered about until hecame to a case containing ancient daggers and swords, which arrested hisattention for some time. 

About a dozen other visitors were in the room, and of these a couplestrolled together from one object of interest to another; they were finestalwart natives, and each possessed a stick of ordinary size. 

These two men quietly walked about exchanging opinions on the variouscurios until they came face to face with the solitary man gazing at theantique weapons. 

"What! art thou here, thou badmash (scoundrel)?" exclaimed one of thetwo. 

"Ah, thou son of a swine, take that!" replied the tall man, and, with aquickness which proved him to be an expert in the handling of a stick, struck the native who had addressed him a vicious blow on the head, but, the said head being protected by many folds of his puggari, the strokemerely knocked him down without doing any serious injury. 

In an instant the fallen man's friend struck at the assailant, and, theother man springing up, a fierce fight was quickly in full swing, twoagainst one, and the noise of the sticks rattling together in powerfulstrokes, and the insulting taunts thrown at each other by thecombatants, soon attracted the other sight-seers and the Museumattendants. 

In a few minutes the fighters had been turned out of the building; theyhad done no damage except to themselves, and neither party would bring acharge against the other, so they scowlingly went in opposite directionsas soon as they were outside. 

"A family feud, " said a bystander. 

"Yes, I expect it is a vendetta, " responded another. 

These remarks, however, were very far from the truth, for the apparentenemies were the greatest friends and bound together by the most solemnvows, and in fact the realistic fight had been pre-arranged with adefinite object, which was successfully attained, as indeed the Museumofficials discovered later. 

The day after the fracas Doctor Mullen, Government geologist, called atthe Museum; he was accompanied by his son Mark, a sturdily built lad ofabout eighteen, who was preparing to follow his father's profession, andwith them was Tom Ellison, the Doctor's assistant, a young man oftwenty-four, tall and extremely active. 

"Well, Ramji Daji, what's this I hear about a robbery at the Museumyesterday?" asked the doctor of the assistant curator. 

"Ah, Sahib, I am very sorry, but the badmashes stole those pieces ofstrangely carved stones you found on the Salt Range mountains, and alsoanother piece, which was lying near them on the table here, " answeredRamji Daji. 

"But what in the world did they carry them off for? They can be of novalue to anybody, " remarked the Doctor. 

"I don't know, Sahib. There was a fight here yesterday, and some hoursafter we missed the five fragments of inscribed stone and one piecebelonging to another set. Had they taken any of the gold or silverthings we could have understood, but----" and Ramji Daji made a gestureexpressive of the puzzled state of his own mind. 

"There can be only two reasons for the strange theft--it is either apractical joke, or some one saw the stones who was able to decipherthem--which we could not--but the joke theory seems the more probable, "said the Doctor. 

The pieces of stone referred to consisted of five irregular fragments ofa slab, an inch or so thick, the largest being about seven inches longby four or five wide, and the smallest some four inches by two. Thesefive parts would not fit evenly together, and in the Doctor's opinionthey formed about half of the original slab. 

The Doctor had taken a careful rubbing on paper of the letters on thestones, and sent it to a friend for the purpose of deciphering it ifpossible. 

"I wonder, Doctor, whether any one from the Salt Range stole the stones?Do you remember that your tent was surreptitiously searched a few nightsafter you had found the pieces?" remarked Tom Ellison. 

"I remember my things having been ransacked, and we concluded some thiefhad been disturbed, but we never for a moment thought they were afterthe bits of inscribed slab, which, by the way, I had sent off the daybefore when sending for stores for the camp, " he replied. 

"Well, if he was after the stones he may have followed us to Lahore andyou to the Museum, when you came to take a rubbing of the lettering, "said Tom. 

"There must be a clue to something written on them, if any one took allthe trouble to come so far for them, " suggested Mark Mullen. 

"To-morrow I hope to hear from Professor Muirson, and he will probablythrow some light on the meaning of the inscription, " said the Doctor. "But come, we must get back to work, for I have to finish my reportbefore we start into camp again in a couple of days' time, " he added, and they hurried away to their own office, but at least Mark's mind wasfull of thoughts concerning the stolen stones, and conjuring up allsorts of strange mysteries connected with them. 

Doctor Mullen duly received from the Professor the expected letter, apart of which read as follows--

"There can be no doubt that the ruins in which you found the fragmentsof inscribed slab are those of a Greek settlement which was mostprobably founded on the Salt Range by camp followers, and possiblysoldiers, of Alexander the Great's army who were left behind on hisreturn from India. 

"I can only conclude from the rubbing you have sent me that it is notfrom the original inspection, but that the slab of which you have foundparts was inscribed from memory at a much later period, it being made upof three languages. The original sense may or may not have beenretained, and as far as I am able to understand it the incompletewording would in English read--' . .. Into thy charge . .. Guarded . .. Descendants with life . .. Of Hydas . .. Sacrifice . .. The gods. '

"I have made no attempt to guess at the missing words, for, as you willsee at a glance, the incomplete sentences allow of a variety ofrenderings, thereby causing great uncertainty with regard to theoriginal meaning. "

"I wish we had the other parts of the slab, " exclaimed Mark, as soon ashis father had read out the letter. 

"Yes, it is rather interesting. Well, we start to-morrow for the SaltRange to continue our work, and I will show you the exact spot where Ifound the pieces, and a diligent search there may be rewarded by thediscovery of at least some of the other portion, " said the Doctor; andboth Mark and Tom Ellison hoped such might prove to be the case, littlethinking what dangers they would be led into on account of thosefragments of an old, broken slab. 

CHAPTER II. --MARK MULLEN DISAPPEARS

"Now then, Mark, down you come, " said Tom Ellison, as he shook the lad, who had lowered the upper sleeping-berth in the train and gone to sleep. 

"What time is it? Where are we?" Mark asked drowsily. 

"Near midnight, and we are at Gunjyal, " answered Tom. 

"What a beastly hour to turn out!" grumbled Mark as he scrambled down. 

In half an hour the servants and a camel--which had been waiting--hadstarted for the Doctor's destination, a place on the Salt Range sometwelve miles away. 

At daybreak three horses arrived, and the Doctor and his two companionsstarted for their camp. 

After breakfast the Doctor took his son and Tom Ellison, accompanied bya servant, to a small valley about a quarter of a mile from the camp. 

"Here you are, " said the Doctor; "this is the exact spot where I foundthe pieces of slab. "

"Then I should say the rest can't be far away, " remarked Tom, and theycommenced poking around with the ends of iron-shod sticks. They had beentwenty minutes at their task when a boy in charge of some goats plantedhimself on a rock not far away and keenly watched the Sahibs at work. 

"Don't you think it would be a good plan, Doctor, if we got a fewcoolies to loosen the subsoil and turn over some of these loose stonesabout here?--it would be easier for us to search, " suggested Tom. 

"Yes, we may as well make a thorough search now we are at it, " repliedthe Doctor, who at once sent the servant to the village near the campfor some coolies and tools. 

The boy had disappeared before the coolies arrived, for he had receiveda signal from a man who was secretly watching the search-party from thetop of a cliff some seventy yards away. 

The natives had not been long at work when one of them slipped, and hispuggari pitched off exactly on to the spot where the next coolie hadturned over a stone. The man picked up his puggari and moved a few yardsoff to wind it round his head again, and almost immediately the goat-boyappeared and asked him if he had seen a stray goat. 

Tom Ellison happened to be standing up examining a strange fossil he hadfound, and as he casually glanced at the boy he saw the coolie hand himsomething, which he promptly hid in the folds of a kind of scarf hangingover his shoulder. 

In a moment a suspicion flashed into Tom's mind, and he rushed forwardand seized the boy before he could make off, and no sooner had he feltthe lad's kupra (cloth) than he discovered that the youngster had hiddena newly found piece of the slab which had been picked up by the coolie. 

The Doctor and Mark were at once by Tom's side examining the fragmentand listening to Tom's explanation. In their excitement they forgotabout the boy, and when they looked round became aware that both he andthe coolie had disappeared. 

The sides of the hills all about were covered with low shrubs, largestones, and nullahs, or ravines, and, although a quick search was made, neither man nor boy could be seen. 

When the day was over they had met with no further success as regardsfinding parts of the slab, but they took away several other stones whichthey thought might possibly prove to be of some interest, and most ofthe evening after dinner was spent in discussing the reason whichprompted the theft from the Museum, and the attempt to steal the stonefound during the day. 

"There can be no doubt I was seen examining the fragments I found, " saidthe Doctor. "I remember now that three or four natives were watching metrying to place the several pieces together in my attempts to get anidea of the whole. Strange that these natives should take so keen aninterest in an old, broken slab, for the pieces must have been lyingthere for years. "

"I expect we shall have to keep a sharp eye on this piece, for they aresure to have a try for it, judging by what they have already done, " saidTom. 

"They seem to have a sharp eye on us. I shouldn't be surprised if theythought we came here purposely to hunt for the stones, " said Mark. 

"Well, I will take a copy of the letters on it at once, in case anythinghappens to the stone, " said the Doctor. 

Next day an official letter arrived which necessitated either the Doctoror Tom returning to Lahore for a few hours, and it was decided theletter should go. 

"Now listen, " said the Doctor as Tom was about to start on his journey. "Take the stone to the Museum and tell them to place it where they canwatch any one who takes any peculiar interest in it. Further, get adescription of those men who were fighting there on the day the stoneswere stolen; and don't forget to post my letter to the Professor, for itcontains a rubbing from the last piece. "

With these parting instructions Tom started on his ride to Gunjyalstation so as to arrive there before dark, there being practically noroad from the foot of the Salt Range across the miles of dismal tract ofsandy plain to the station, although his train did not leave untilmidnight; but it was the only train in the twenty-four hours. 

Tom was half-asleep when he got into the train; he had the compartmentto himself, and he thought it likely he would remain alone until hearrived at Lala Musa, about eight o'clock, where he would have to changeto get on to the main line, so he quickly spread his bedding, and, drawing the green-baize shade over the lamp, he was soon asleep. 

He could not say where it happened, but when he roused up the train wasin motion and he was just conscious he was not alone; but the instant heattempted to move, a rug was thrown over his face, and he knew he wasbeing held down by at least two powerful assailants. In a very shorttime, notwithstanding his fierce struggles, he was bound hand and foot, a gag in his mouth, and blindfolded, without having the slightest ideaof the appearance of those who had attacked him. 

Whilst Tom was in this condition the train stopped several times, but noone entered the compartment, and, as the Venetian shutters were down, itwas impossible for any one to peer through the window and so becomeaware of his position. 

He tried to knock his feet against the side of the carriage at the firststation, but he was bound too securely to the seat which formed his bedto allow of the slightest movement, so wearily and painfully the hoursdragged on until the guard discovered him and set him free at Lala Musastation. 

The moment he was released he found that the only thing missing was thefragment of slab he was to have taken to the Museum. 

"They followed me to Gunjyal and then slipped into my carriage at somestation whilst I was asleep, and quietly slipped out at the next stationwhen they had got what they wanted, " mused Tom. 

By the time he had given an account of what had happened to him he hadonly a few minutes in which to rush over to the refreshment-room and getsome breakfast before his train was due. 

When Tom arrived in Lahore he went straight to his office, and in acouple of hours he had completed the special work which had necessitatedhis journey; then he went over to the Museum. 

"The thief has been caught, Sahib, " said one of the attendants as Tomentered the building. 

"When? Who is he?" asked Tom, in considerable surprise, for he hadconcluded that his late assailants were the men who had robbed theMuseum. 

"They caught him during last night, but I don't know much about it yet, "replied the man. 

Tom at once hurried off to the police-station to learn full particulars. 

"Yes, we found a piece of stone with some strange device on it, " saidthe Superintendent of Police. "This is it. Do you recognise it?" headded, as he handed Tom the stone. 

"No, this is not the one the Doctor found, " said Tom, after a moment'sexamination. 

"Well, it is the only bit we got, and we are told it was stolen fromthe Museum with some others, during a fight, " said the officer. 

"How did you get this?" asked Tom. 

"Well, in rather a strange way. The night after the stones haddisappeared three clever burglaries took place in Lahore, and thethieves made valuable hauls in each case, but we could get no clue. Lastnight an anonymous letter came to us, and we decided to act upon it, sowe searched a house in the bazaar and recovered this stone together withsome gold and silver ornaments which had been stolen; we found them inthe exact spot where we were told to look for them. The man says he isinnocent, and that they were placed where we found them unknown to him. Now you know the whole case, " said the police-officer. 

"And the man you have arrested, do you think he is connected with themen who were fighting in the Museum?" asked Tom. 

"He says not. He certainly is not one of the fighters. He does not bearthe best of characters, however, " was the reply. 

Tom related what had happened to him in the train; several theories wereadvanced to account for the keen interest taken in the stones, and thepolice began exerting themselves to fathom the mystery. 

The morning after Tom Ellison had left the camp a shikari went to Markwith the information that some oorial (wild sheep) were feeding abouthalf a mile away, and Mark, who was a keen sportsman, promptly got hisrifle and went with the shikari. 

Mark was able to get a long shot, but missed, so sat down while theshikari climbed the peaks around to try and find the oorial again. Inabout ten minutes Mark heard a slight rustling in the bushes some twentyyards away, and he got a glimpse of a porcupine. He did not wish to fireat it lest he should startle the oorial if they had halted anywherenear, so he picked up a stone and threw it at the animal when next hesaw it. 

"I have hit it, " he muttered, as he heard a peculiar cry, and he hurriedforward, but he could find no sign of the porcupine, and he concluded ithad entered a small cave he discovered. 

Mark struck a match and went in a few feet, but it appeared to be verylow, and when his match went out he decided to go no farther, for he hadno desire to stumble on the top of a porcupine. 

In a short time the shikari returned, and Mark thought no more about theanimal until he had been back at the camp some time. 

While Mark had been away on his shooting expedition, Harry Burton, theSuperintendent of Police, had called, and during the afternoon Markcasually mentioned the incident of the porcupine. 

"I think you are mistaken about it being a porcupine, my boy, " saidBurton. 

"I don't think so. I saw it twice and hit it with the stone, for Idistinctly heard it make a peculiar noise as though hurt, " persistedMark. 

"That is exactly what makes me certain it was not a porcupine, for itis one of the animals without vocal cords, therefore cannot make a vocalsound. It was more likely a wild pig, for there are a number abouthere, " said Burton, who was a great sportsman. 

Mark, however, felt certain he had distinctly seen the animal's quills, so a little later he quietly left the camp without saying a word to anyone as to where he was going. 

At nine o'clock that night Mark had not returned to camp, and Burton, who had remained to dinner, suggested that he might have got lost, ormet with an accident; so a search was at once commenced. 

CHAPTER III. --THE MYSTERIOUS FAKIR

"Well, Burton, what is your opinion now?" asked Doctor Mullen on theirreturn to camp about three o'clock in the morning, after an unsuccessfulsearch for Mark. 

"I am sorry to say I think he has met with a serious accident and isunable to help himself. Listen to those natives shouting 'Sahib! Sahib!'and far beyond them others are calling, and the boy would have repliedif he could have done so. You are sure he went alone?" asked Burton. 

"Yes. He took his gun, which seems to suggest that he started for thatlake about a mile from here after duck. Had he gone after oorial hewould have taken his rifle and would have been accompanied by theshikari, " said the Doctor, who was greatly distressed about his son'sdisappearance. 

"As soon as it is light I will have every nullah and bush searched formiles round, " said Burton, and then he mused without giving expressionto his thoughts. "He may have fallen over a kud (precipice), or his gunmay have burst, or he may have been bitten by a snake, or he may haverun against those--well, fragments of slab"; and he left the tent andsent off messages to the headmen of the villages around. 

Harry Burton was one of the cleverest officers in the Indian police; hewas a few years over thirty, a dark-complexioned man of medium height, very agile and powerful, and was known to the Salt Range natives as Koj(tracker) Burton Sahib, owing to his smartness in following up theslightest clue. 

Burton, at the Doctor's request, went to occupy Mark's empty tent for anhour or two, and as he stretched himself on the camp bed his busy brainwas engaged in trying to form a connection between the broken slab andMark's absence, and these thoughts kept him awake, so he was the firstto hear the footsteps of an approaching horse. 

"Hello! Is that you, Ellison?" greeted Burton, as the new arrivaldismounted. 

"Yes. I heard at Gunjyal about Mark, so, instead of waiting fordaylight, I hunted up a horse, and, by all this shouting, I concludeMark is still missing, " said Tom, and in a very few minutes he hadrelated to Burton and the Doctor his experience in the train and what hehad learnt in Lahore. 

"Ah, things are getting a bit more complicated, " said Burton aloud, andthen muttered to himself, "But I begin to get a better hold of theidea. "

"Now you clearly understand me, " said Burton when instructing theheadmen. "You are to send out every available man and boy from yourvillages, and they are to search every nullah until they meet the menfrom the next village. We think the young Sahib has met with anaccident, and if you find him you are to send word here immediately; andyou, Appoyas, instruct your men to be most careful in searching thosecliffs near your village. "

"What's that man's name?" asked the Doctor as soon as the men had gone. 

"Appoyas. It is an unusual name--certainly not a Punjabi one, " repliedBurton. 

"I never heard the name before. He is a fine-looking man, " remarked theDoctor. 

"And a very wealthy man, according to report. That is his village on thevery edge of those cliffs about a mile away. It is the most prosperousvillage on the Salt Range, and celebrated for its stamped-cloth work. Appoyas and his brother Atlasul--another uncommon name--buy up all thecloth made and stamped in the place, and give a good price too, andtheir camels frequently go off laden with bales. But come over here aminute, " and Burton led the Doctor some short distance from the camp. 

"I can scarcely credit it; surely it is too improbable, how----" beganthe Doctor when he had heard what Burton had to say. 

"Never mind; kindly act in the manner I suggest, " interrupted Burton, "and I think you will find I am right. Now I must be off, and--well, expect me when you see me, as they say"; and in a couple of minutes hewas riding from the camp on a secret and dangerous expedition. 

The search was continued all day, but not the slightest sign of Markcould be discovered. 

If any one, about sunset, had been near the place where Mark was restingat the time he thought he saw the porcupine, a Fakir might have beenseen sitting on the identical spot. He appeared to be in deepmeditation, but, as soon as it was dark, he crept cautiously to theentrance of the cave into which Mark thought the porcupine haddisappeared. 

The Fakir paused, and after listening intently for a few moments hescrambled in; and after again listening he produced a bull's-eye lamp--amost unusual thing for a native to possess--and carefully lit it. 

He next examined a revolver and a knife he carried in a girdle under aloose garment he had wrapped round him, and in addition to these weaponshe had an iron rod about three feet and a-half long, similar to whatmany Fakirs carry. 

He now advanced along a narrow passage which widened into a large cave, from which opened another narrow passage, and this he proceededcautiously to explore, but when he had gone about a hundred yards itcame to an abrupt end, the roof here being exceedingly high, and as heflashed his light around he could not see the top. 

For the space of an hour he probed about with his iron rod, and felt inthe cracks and crevices in the walls; then suddenly he sat down, and, had any one been near enough, they would have heard him chuckling tohimself, for he had made a great discovery. 

In a short time he made his way out of the cave and disappeared into thedarkness of the night. 

"What do you make of this, Ellison?" said the Doctor early next morning. "I have just found this note in my tent; it is written in Punjabi, andin English it reads: 'If the Sahib wishes to learn where his son is hewill be told if you promise to give up the other pieces of stone youfound. Let the Sahib write his promise on the blank part of this paperand place it on the small olive-tree near the salt spring. The Sahib'smen need not watch, for they will not see who fetches it. '

"Do you think it is a hoax?" asked the Doctor. 

"I don't know. I scarcely think so. I wish Burton was back, " said Tom, who thought that Burton's experience might enable him to get somethingof a clue from the strange message. "They have got all the stones, " headded. 

"We took others that did not belong to the slab, " said the Doctor. 

"Of course, I had forgotten; and the writer of this is under theimpression they are parts of the slab, " remarked Tom. 

"If this is genuine, then Mark is a prisoner, which is Burton's opinion;and I believe he is acting in some secret manner on his opinion, " saidthe Doctor. 

After a long consultation the Doctor tore off the blank piece of paperand wrote on it in the native language: "You must first give me someproof that you know where my son is before I promise to comply with yourrequest. Let him write to me. "

"We both know where the salt spring is, Tom, so I will take the paperthere, and you go to some place where you can watch the spring throughyour field-glasses, " said the Doctor. 

"Very good. By the time we get a reply Burton may be back, " said Tom, and they left the camp. 

Tom watched patiently all day, but, with the exception of a boy incharge of some goats, no one went near the spring, and the boy did notgo within a hundred yards of it, though his goats were feeding all roundand close to it. 

"Glad to see you back, Burton, " exclaimed Tom when he returned to campand found the officer there. 

"What luck, Tom?" asked the Doctor. 

"Bad. I waited until it was too dark to see, and the message had notbeen taken when I came away, " he replied. 

"You are wrong, Tom, my boy, for I saw it taken, " said Burton. 

"How? Where were you?" asked Tom, in surprise. 

"Not far from you, and I saw a goat sniff it and quickly walk off withthe paper in its mouth, and five minutes later the boy had it in hishand. Here, smell this, " and Burton held out the paper containing themessage to the Doctor. 

"A peculiar smell, " said Tom. 

"Yes, and the goat is trained to carry anything impregnated with thatsubtle odour, " explained Burton. 

"Do you believe the writer of this knows where Mark is, Burton? Have youdiscovered anything?" asked Tom. 

"Yes, the man knows well enough, and I know to half a mile, " saidBurton. 

"They why not try to release him at once?" exclaimed Tom. 

"Easier said than done, and I am fully convinced it would be dangerousto force matters without careful arrangements. I practically know withwhom we have to deal, and, if I am any judge of native character, Ibelieve we are in conflict with some of the most cunning and fearlessmen in India--men who had been carrying on their work for many years, and that, too, without raising suspicion, and who will not hesitate torisk life and cause death to accomplish their purpose, and----" Burtonsuddenly stopped speaking; then, almost in a whisper, he hurriedly said, "Go on talking about Mark, " and noiselessly he left the tent. 

In a few moments there was a sound of a scuffle at the back of the tent, followed by a thud and an exclamation from Burton; so they rushed out tosee what had happened, the Doctor taking the lamp from the tent-pole ashe passed. 

"What's the matter, Burton?" asked Tom. 

"Bring the lamp here, " he answered, rubbing his knees. "They were toosmart for me, and I got the worst of it this time, " he added. 

"What is that rope doing there?" asked the Doctor, as the light revealeda long rope extending from a tent-peg to a considerable distance intothe darkness. 

"Oh, it is there for a purpose, and it answers too well to suit me, forit has given me one of the heaviest falls I have had for a long time. Aman was there listening to us, and it would have made no differencewhich way I had come round the tent, for the eavesdropper would havegone in the opposite direction. When I heard him making off I dashedafter him, and his comrade, who was at the far end of the rope, jerkedit taut when it was between me and the man I was after, with the resultthat I came a most terrific cropper; then they promptly fled, and aresafely away by this time, " explained Burton. 

"But how did you know there was any one outside?" asked Tom. "I neverheard a sound. "

"I saw the side of the tent shake, and there is not a breath of airstirring. The man who was listening must know English, I feel sure; andI am afraid we have made a terrible mistake in not taking precautionarymeasures against being overheard. If they understood what I said aboutsuspecting who they are, I may make up my mind to having a rather livelytime. " Burton said in a whisper, for he did not know but some one mightstill be listening screened in the darkness. 

"They may have only come to watch us, and probably did not grasp themeaning of our conversation, " said the Doctor, in a low voice. 

"Let us hope so, for it may mean life or death, " was Burton's seriousreply, and that night guards were set over the camp. 

Early next morning Burton left, but before going he slipped a letterinto the Doctor's hand, saying as he did so, "Don't open it unless I amnot back by eight o'clock to-morrow morning. Inside you will find fullinstructions what to do if I have not returned. "

CHAPTER IV. --A CAPTURE

Soon after Burton had left the camp the Doctor received a letter fromProfessor Muirson in which he said, "The only word on the rubbing yousent me from the last fragment of slab you found means 'Cave, ' and Ithink it should be placed before the words 'of Hydas'; thus you have areference to the 'Cave of Hydas, ' in which there is, or was, somethingto be carefully guarded. "

"Then, putting two and two together, the men who hold Mark a prisonerare either anxious to learn where this Cave of Hydas is, or they knowwhere it is and do not wish any one else to obtain the knowledge, " saidthe Doctor. 

"I am inclined to think that Mark is in that very cave at the presentmoment, " said Tom. 

"Quite possible. By the way, Tom, tell the natives who are crowdingabout the camp to continue the search for Mark. Burton wishes it to bekept up for some reason or other, " said the Doctor as he went into histent. 

"Hi! Tom; come here a moment, " almost immediately shouted the Doctor;and as soon as Tom had joined him he said, "I have just foundthis--listen: 'I have been asked to say that I am all right, and toadvise you to do what my captors have requested you. Your reply is to bewritten on the blank part of this paper and placed where you put thelast. Mark. ' There can be no doubt about the writing--it is Mark's, andmy mind is greatly relieved, " said the Doctor. 

"Mark knows one of his captors understands English or he would havewritten more; he was only allowed to write what he was told, " said Tom. 

The Doctor at once wrote the following reply: "Mark, you are to tellthem that if one of their number will come with you here he may takeaway any of the stones we have found. "

This answer was written with the object of delay until Burton's return;and, as before, the Doctor took the paper to the salt spring, while Tomwent to a position where he could watch the goat carry away the messageto the boy; and he had not long to wait, for within a couple of hoursthe boy and his goats appeared and slowly passed the place, and, as theyquietly went along from bush to bush cropping the leaves, one took theletter, and in a few minutes the boy had taken it from the goat. 

That night, as soon as it was dark, the mysterious Fakir again enteredthe cave he had examined a couple of nights previously. He lit his lampas soon as he was inside, and went straight to the far end. 

Here he stood for a time and listened; then he flashed his light up thechimney-shaped opening high above him, the top of which extended farbeyond the reach of his light; then, having satisfied himself that allwas quiet, he put his arm into a narrow crack in the side of the caveand his fingers grasped two thin ropes; he gave them a sharp jerk, andinstantly there was a rustling, swishing noise as a rope-ladder cametumbling down. 

The Fakir tugged at the ladder, and, finding that it was securelyfastened above, he at once climbed up. When he had gone about forty feethe found the entrance to another passage; but before venturing toexplore it he carefully drew up the ladder as it had been before. 

The Fakir cautiously made his way, frequently stopping to put his ear tothe floor to listen, and keeping a sharp look-out for any sidegalleries, of which he passed three, but they were much narrower thanthe one he was following. 

He had proceeded about three hundred yards when he suddenly closed theshutter of his lamp; then, after listening a while, he went on in thedark, and it was well he had turned off his light, for the passage tookan abrupt turn, and he saw the glimmer of a light in the distance andfaintly heard the sound of voices. 

Slowly and noiselessly he approached the light, for he concluded it camefrom some side cave, and this proved to be the case when he had gone alittle farther. 

"I tell you again that you have got all the stones if, as you say, youhave stolen the one Ellison Sahib was taking to Lahore. "

The words were spoken in a loud voice, and so suddenly had they brokenthe stillness of the dismal place that the Fakir started with surprise, and then crouched closer to listen. 

"What the Sahib says is not true, for we have only got one of the lastyou found the other day, " said another speaker. 

"Then get the rest if you can, for I know nothing about any more. Howlong is this farce going to last? My father says he will let you haveany stones he has found if one of you will go with me for them, but Itold you when you first captured me that you would get nothing of valueby keeping me a prisoner, " replied Mark, for he it was. 

"Then you shall not leave this cave until the other parts of the brokenslab are discovered and in our hands, and I may tell you that it is morethan a hundred years since the slab was broken and some of the partsstolen and lost. Take him back to his cave"; and the Fakir could hearfootsteps ascending steps and then die away in the distance. 

"Now, brothers, hearken, " began the speaker who had addressed Mark. "Wehave learnt that Koj Burton has almost guessed who we are, and if hefollows up his idea he will surely track us down. Our forefathersthrough many generations protected the secret of their work and amassedwealth in the way we are doing, and, with the exception of the man whoaccidentally found his way into this cave and stole the inscribed slab, no outsider has ever known the secret of the Cave of Hydas--and that manmet his death without having an opportunity of revealing what he hadlearnt, although he caused us to lose part of that on which was writtenthe command to guard the secret of the cave with our lives. 

"Are we now going to allow this Koj Burton to bring destruction upon usand thereby destroy our method of obtaining wealth?" asked the speakerfiercely. 

"Never! never! never!" shouted fully half a dozen voices. 

"Then he must die, and I will see that he does so, and in such a mannerthat his death cannot in any way be traced to us"; and as the Fakirheard these words he gripped his revolver more tightly, and a grimsmile played about his mouth. 

"If this Koj Burton suspects who we are, do you not think, Appoyas, thathe may also have gained some idea of the Cave of Hydas?" a voice asked. 

"It may be so, and we will have the cave well guarded. Do not forgetthat to-morrow night at ten o'clock it will be, according to therecords, exactly fifty years since the offerings in the Temple of Atlaswere removed to the Temple of Hydas. This has been done every fiftyyears, and only on those occasions is the inner temple opened, and----"the speaker stopped abruptly, and then, after a moment's pause, continued--"and, brothers, you may now go. "

On hearing the last words so suddenly spoken the Fakir began quickly andnoiselessly to retreat along the passage, but, as no one appeared to befollowing, he stopped. 

For some minutes he heard men talking, and dimly saw some figures comeinto the passage and go in the opposite direction, and in a short timethe sound of footsteps died away and the Fakir was left alone in thesilent darkness. 

More than a quarter of an hour he remained motionless; then he felt hisway to the entrance of the side cave in which he had heard the men, and, finding all still, he turned on his light. 

It was a cave-chamber, about twelve feet square; the walls were fairlysmooth, but the roof was uneven--it was evidently an enlarged cave. From this cave-chamber there was a flight of steps to a passage above, and the Fakir was on the point of ascending them when he heard quickfootsteps coming along the passage towards him, which caused him tohurry back into the passage he had left; then, turning off his light, hewaited and listened. 

"One of the brothers must have come back for something, " the Fakir heardsome one mutter. "It is all right, though; I will return to myprisoner, " and then he went away. 

Without venturing to turn on his light the Fakir started for therope-ladder; every few paces he paused to listen; he appeared extremelysuspicious, for at times he would halt for three or four minutes and wasconstantly feeling his revolver. 

At last he had nearly reached the ladder, when suddenly he saw a faintglimmer as though from a light in the passage below, so, inch by inch, he approached the edge until he was able to peer down, and almost at theinstant he did so the light below went out; but he had learnt much inthat one glance, and, as the sound of a severe struggle from belowreached him, he quickly lowered the ladder and quietly slipped down. 

No sooner had he reached the bottom than he turned on his light for aninstant, which revealed Tom Ellison and a powerful native trying to getthe better of each other, the latter having a knife in his hand, but Tomwas holding him by the wrist and preventing him using it. 

In a moment the Fakir had twisted the knife from the man's grasp, andin a few seconds the man was bound and gagged. 

"Well I'm----" began Tom, but the Fakir put his hand over Tom's mouthand, taking him by the arm, led him to the cave-entrance. 

"Speak low, Tom, " said the Fakir in a low voice. 

"Marvellous! Is it you, Burton? I should never have known you in thatget-up, " whispered the surprised Tom. 

"Seems like it. But quick's the word, my boy. We must have that man outbefore any of his comrades come along, and this must be done without hisdiscovering who I am. We must blindfold him, for there is a rope-ladderhanging near him, and on no account must he learn that it is down, andthat we are aware of its existence; as soon as we have him here I willreturn and place the ladder as I found it, " said Burton. 

"Ah, now I understand why you so promptly put out your light when youhad secured the knife, " said Tom. "But where shall you take the man? Hiscomrades will hear about his capture if you take him to the camp, " headded. 

"That is the very last thing I wish them to learn. About an hour's walkfrom here--but two hours for us to-night, I am afraid--there is asalt-mine, and to-day I arranged--in case I needed it--to use part of itas a temporary prison until we make a grand coup on the rest of thegang. I have a couple of my men waiting near the mine now, " explainedBurton. 

It was a difficult tramp they had with their prisoner. They kept himblindfolded, and his hands bound; and each held him by an arm as theystumbled over the rough ground in the dark, for Burton would not riskusing his lamp lest the light, at that unusual hour, should attract theattention of the man's friends and cause them to try and discover whatit meant. 

When they had safely lodged their prisoner they started for the camp. 

"What caused you to go to that cave, Tom?" asked Burton, as they walkedalong. 

"Oh, the word on that last piece of stone turns out to be 'cave, ' andwhen thinking the matter over I thought of the place Mark had enteredafter the porcupine, so I spotted the place before dark, and thenquietly left the camp after dinner on a private exploring expedition. That man suddenly sprang upon me just before you so opportunely appearedon the scene, " explained Tom. 

"Then that's all right--you were followed from the camp; I was afraidthey had placed a guard over that entrance, " said Burton. "I branch offhere, for I cannot enter the camp in this disguise; I want to use itagain, and as a Fakir I do not wish to be seen near the camp; but I hopeto turn up early in the--or rather this morning. I advise you to get allthe rest you can, for I think I can promise you a very lively timebefore many hours are over. "

As Burton went on alone, he muttered, "Yes, I must have all arrangementscarefully made. I expect we shall have a dangerous tussle, for they arenot the class of men to give in quietly. "

CHAPTER V. --A VALUABLE FIND IN THE TEMPLE OF ATLAS

"It's what I call a tall order, Burton, " exclaimed Tom Ellison, who, with the Doctor, had been listening to the police officer's plan to raidthe Cave of Hydas. 

"I am glad you turned up before eight o'clock, Burton, for it would bedifficult to enter the cave and find our way about without yourguidance. It seems a likely place to get one's head cracked in thedark, " remarked the Doctor. 

"It would not be easy for you to get in, but had I been caught lastnight you would have found a clue to my whereabouts in the letter I gaveyou. However, we are all here yet, and I expect we shall get the betterof Appoyas and his gang if our plans work out properly, and if theydon't, then, well--look out for yourselves, " said Burton, and heshrugged his shoulders. 

"What led you to suspect Appoyas, who you say is supposed to be one thewealthiest and most respected men on the Salt Range, Burton?" asked theDoctor. 

"Well, I saw him with that long brass-studded stick, and his generaldescription answers to the tall man who fought the other two in themuseum. Then I followed the goat-boy who got the message from the goat, and the boy handed the message to a man, and this man took it toAppoyas, and finally my suspicions were confirmed when I heard Appoyasaddressed by name in the cave last night, " explained Burton. 

"It must have been pleasant listening to your own death-sentence!"remarked the Doctor. 

"I am glad I heard it, " said Burton, "for never was it more true than inmy case that to be fore-warned is to be fore-armed. Two traps have beenalready laid this morning to get me away from the Salt Range, and--Ibelieve here is another, " he said, as a coolie came at the trot with atelegram in his hand. 

"Come at once. Most serious. Mirkwort, " read out Burton, as soon as thecoolie had retired. "This pretends to be a message ordering my speedyreturn to headquarters, and I shall make a pretence of going, but Ishall soon be back in this neighbourhood in disguise, " he added. 

"How do you know it is an attempt to get you away?" asked the Doctor. 

"Because I requested Mirkwort to use a cypher in all his communicationsfor some days, and this is not in cypher, " replied Burton. "But topersist in staying here would only cause Appoyas to suspect that I amabout to take some decisive steps. I have twenty men around here now, and as soon as it is dark to-night some of them will watch the house ofAppoyas in the village on the top of the cliffs, for I feel convincedthere is an entrance to the cave from his house. 

"At the foot of the cliffs and immediately under the village there isanother entrance through a house built against the rocks, and other menwill watch there. I shall be near the camp at nightfall, together withsome specially picked men who will have arrived by that time, and weshall enter the cave by what I will call the porcupine entrance, and, once inside--well, we have to rescue Mark and capture as many of thegang as we can. We must take all precautionary measures, for I do notknow how many rascals we shall have to contend with, and that cave islike a rabbit-warren. Expect me as a Fakir at dusk. I will send for youwhen the time comes, " and as Burton clattered away on his horse the campunderstood that he had been called to headquarters on importantbusiness. 

It was about nine o'clock and very dark when Burton, with a number ofhis men, though not in uniform, were sitting under the bushes a coupleof hundred yards or so from the cave entrance. 

"Ali Khan, go and meet the party from the camp and see that they make aslittle noise as possible, " said Burton to one of his men; and then toanother he said, "Sergeant, come with me; we must find out whether thereis a guard placed at the entrance; if there is, we must secure him. "

The two crept stealthily along, and, when some twenty yards from thecave, a man sprang up within a few feet of them and dashed off towardsthe cave, but he had not taken many steps when he tripped, and before hecould recover himself Burton pounced upon him, and in a few moments theman was gagged and bound. 

By the time the Doctor and Tom with the rest of the men had arrived, Burton had explored the cave as far as the rope-ladder without anyfurther encounter. 

Two men were left at the entrance of the cave with the prisoner, anotherwas stationed at the foot of the ladder and two more at the top, and aman was left at each of the side passages opening from the main gallery. 

"Now, Doctor, " said Burton, when he had led the party some distance intothe cave beyond the ladder, "will you remain here with the men whilstTom goes with me to try and discover where Appoyas and his gang are, andhow many we have to deal with? They have some special work on at teno'clock in what they call the Temple of Atlas, and I don't know where itis. If you hear me whistle, then light your lamps and come on as quicklyas possible. Now quietly, Tom, " and they went ahead. 

"She--e--e! See, there's a light. Some of them are in the cave-chamberwhere I heard them last night, " whispered Burton to Tom. 

Hearing voices, they silently crept nearer until they could hear whatwas said. 

"I sent no message to the Doctor Sahib to-day, lest Koj Burton shouldremain to inquire into it. Brothers, Koj Burton is far away, and at thebottom of the river Hydaspes (Jhelum), I hope, if our men did theirduty. Now, brothers, follow me to the Temple of Atlas and we will takethe fifty years' offerings to the inner Temple of Hydas. By givingliberal offerings to the gods they bless us and we get much wealth. Come, it is the time. "

The speaker was Appoyas, and under cover of the noise made in thechamber as his men lighted torches and prepared to follow him, Burtonand Tom slipped some distance back along the passage, for they knew notwhich direction the men would take. 

"Seven, " whispered Burton as Appoyas and his men came into the passageand fortunately went the opposite way to where the Englishmen werewatching. 

Cautiously they followed; suddenly the men disappeared down a flight ofsteps, and when Burton and Tom peered below they were amazed at whatthey saw. 

They were gazing into a large cave-temple, and at the far end was anenormous statute of a figure evidently representing Atlas with a largeglobe on his shoulders. 

Burton and Tom were intently watching the men in the temple, when theywere startled by hearing some on rapidly approaching along the passage. The man carried no light, and as the two Englishmen crouched close tothe side of the cave to allow him to pass he knocked against Tom's arm. 

"Strangers in the cave!" shouted the man, and he turned and fled. 

For a moment the men in the temple were too amazed to move; then, simultaneously, they stamped out their torches. 

"We have them trapped below if they have no other exit but the steps. That man's gone for help, " said Burton, and blew his whistle. "We willhave a look at them, " he added, and turned on his lamp. 

In an instant something flashed in the light and the lamp was knockedout of his hand and fell with a clatter down the steps, for Appoyas hadcrept up with his long brass-studded stick. 

Next moment Tom felt himself hooked by the ankle, and before he couldfree himself his legs were jerked from under him and he fell on hisback; then he felt a bare foot placed on his chest as some one trod onhim and dashed down the passage. 

No one else was able to pass, for Burton stood on the top of the steps, swinging his iron rod to and fro, and at the same time holding hiswhistle in his mouth and blowing until some of his men arrived withlights. 

"Tom, you stop here with some of the men, and don't let any of theserascals escape. Listen! The Doctor is having a tussle; there is a fightgoing on all over the place, and I must discover where Mark is lest theyshould try to injure him. " Taking a couple of men, he hurried away inthe direction of the shouts which were ringing through the galleries. 

"Hi! This way, Bur--r--r----" some one tried to shout in English. 

"That's Mark's voice, and they are strangling him, " said Burton. "Quickwith your lamp, Sergeant, this way, " he added. 

Burton found Mark in the grasp of two men, who dashed the lad to theground and then fled in the darkness, after showing fight for a fewseconds, Burton pursuing them hotly, received a terrific blow on thehead after being tripped by Appoyas, who was waiting in a side passage, and Burton lay partly stunned for some time. 

Appoyas fought like a fiend, doing great damage with his stick, but atlast he fled along a side passage. 

In half an hour the fight was over, and Burton found they had eightprisoners; among whom was Atlasul, but Appoyas and some of the othershad escaped. 

Burton and Tom were exploring one of the narrow galleries when theysuddenly came face to face with Appoyas, who, after throwing a knife atBurton, dashed down the passage followed by the two Englishmen. 

They had gone about a hundred yards when Appoyas stopped, and hispursuers could see that he was standing on the very edge of a blackchasm. For a moment he stood and faced them, his eyes flashing fiercelyin the light of the lamp. 

"You cannot escape us now, Appoyas, " said Burton, covering him with arevolver. 

"I will have a bitter revenge on you, Koj Burton. Here is the end of thepassage, below is the Cave of Doom, but you have not got me yet, " and, to the astonishment of Burton and Tom, Appoyas shouted a fierce cry of"Revenge!" and sprang into the fearsome black abyss. 

"He must be dashed to pieces. I can't see the bottom, " said Tom, holdinghis lamp over the gulf. 

"I am doubtful. We will get a rope and make a search, " said Burton. 

Some time later a lamp was lowered, and far below, about six feet fromthe bottom, could be seen a strong net stretched the full width of thechasm. 

"He dropped into that, and escaped by a secret exit, " said Burton. 

They proceeded to thoroughly explore the cave, and were astonished atthe extent and number of side passages. 

"I say, Burton, this globe on the shoulders of old Atlas is hollow andhas a big slit in it like a letter-box, and has a lock on it, " exclaimedMark as they were examining the Temple of Atlas. 

When the globe was opened it proved to be nearly full of gold and silverornaments, precious stones, and coins. 

"Ah, these are the offerings to the gods, a portion of the things stolenby these thieves during the last fifty years. A system of theft andsacrifice which has been handed down from father to son for manygenerations, " exclaimed Burton. 

The prisoners proved to be connected with burglaries which had takenplace all over the Punjab and far beyond. The villains had been in thehabit of placing a few of the things stolen in some innocent person'shouse, and had employed a variety of tricks to avoid suspicion restingon themselves. 

The valuables recovered in the Temple of Atlas were restored to theirrightful owners where they could be traced, and the balance wasultimately considered as treasure-trove, the Government claiming fourannas in the rupee, thus leaving three-fourths of the value to bedivided amongst those who had discovered it. 

Many hours did the Englishmen spend in trying to discover the innerTemple of Hydas, but its secret baffled all their efforts, neither werethey able to find any parts of the broken slab which might have aidedthem in their search. They were equally unsuccessful in getting anytrace of Appoyas, who had so suddenly disappeared while his cry ofrevenge was ringing through the Cave of Hydas. 

XI

AN ADVENTURE IN THE HEART OF MALAY-LAND

To the world-wanderer the confines of our little planet seem verylimited indeed, and to him there are few regions within its boundarieswhich remain long unknown. Yet to the vast majority of people Old MotherEarth abounds in many a _terra incognita_. 

Away in the East, where the Indian Ocean merges into the China Sea, where the sunny waters of the Malacca Straits are being ceaselesslyfurrowed by giant steamers and merchantmen, lies a land, which thoughspoken of glibly by every schoolboy, is to-day one of the least exploredcountries of the globe. The Malay Peninsula is a familiar enough name, and so it ought to be, for it skirts the ocean highway to the FloweryKingdom and to some of our most valuable island possessions; still, itis a strange fact that this narrow neck of land is, geographicallyspeaking, one of the world's darkest areas. 

Its seaboard is generally flat and overgrown with mangroves to a depthof several miles, but the interior is an extremely mountainous region, containing elevations of over eight thousand feet. An irregularbackbone connects all these great heights, and it itself is of no meandimensions, being throughout well over three thousand feet abovesea-level. Between the mountain-peaks, as may be imagined, there islittle room for fertile plateaus, and the most settled districts inconsequence are those farthest away from the towering ranges; of theseSelangor is, perhaps, the most noteworthy. Here vast forests and junglescrub extend everywhere, though the trees are being rapidly cut down bythe numerous Chinese tin-miners in the settlement; and here also is thecapital of the Federated Malay States, whose petty rulers within recentyears have united their forces under a British Protectorate. 

Perak, towards the north-west, and Pahang, stretching over to the sea onthe eastern side, are the two most mountainous divisions in theConfederacy, and to the traveller they are also the most interestingbecause of the immunity of their interior fastnesses from the visits ofwhite men. Numerous rivers reach the coast on both sides of the centralwatershed, many of those rising in the highlands of Pahang and Kelantanbeing absolutely untraced and unnamed. The entire country near thecoast, on the east as on the west, may be said to be given over to rankjungles, in which the lordly tiger, the one-horned rhinoceros, the wildpig, and tapir have their homes, and monkeys of almost every species areabundant in the wooded slopes. 

One-half of the world's tin is produced in the Malay States; it ismined chiefly in Selangor and Malacca, and forms the mainstay of thecountry's prosperity, though, curiously enough, little or nostanniferous deposits have been found on the eastern side of thedividing range. But though very few people know it, the most valuable ofall metals has been discovered on the upper waters of the Pahang Riverand tributaries. The Chinese swarm in their thousands on the westernslopes, and outnumber the Malays by more than three to one. They aresurely the bane of the wanderer's existence. 

The Malays are not the aboriginal race of the Peninsula, though theyhave lived on the coast for centuries, and are descended from thebloodthirsty pirates who terrorised the Straits of Malacca. The realowners of the country are the Sakis, a wild race who in appearance viewith their brethren in Central Australia, and are very little differentfrom the chimpanzees which infest the forests. They hold no intercoursewith the coast-dwellers, and are rarely seen unless by the adventuroustraveller, for their retreat is among the mountains, and as far awayfrom John Chinaman's presence as it is possible to get. 

The Sakis are a rude and miserably backward people. Like the Papuans ofNew Guinea, they build their huts in the branches of trees; but for thisthey have good reason--the prowling animals of the forest wouldotherwise soon obliterate the slowly dying tribe. Their only weapons arethe _sumpitan_, or blow-pipe, and a club, which is not unlike the"waddie" of the Australian aboriginal; but with these they can do quiteenough damage to deter all but the reckless from visiting their chosenhaunts. 

The charm of far-off countries has ever had a great power over allBritons; the true traveller's instinct is in their blood, and the noblearray of red markings on our maps amply testify to the brilliance oftheir achievements. Knowing this, I speak with care of a country that Ihave traversed in my wanderings, so that if others who read these wordsmay feel impelled to take up the pilgrim staff, they may at least relyupon my humble observations. 

A few years back, after journeying through Achin in Sumatra--anotherlittle-known "corner" jealously guarded by the Dutch--I, with my fivecompanions, found it necessary to betake ourselves to British Dominions, having given offence to the Holland Government by our peregrinationsthrough the hostile Achinese territory. So we embarked on a Malay traderbound for Klang, the port of Selangor, and commenced an expedition whichI can recall now as being one of the most interesting of all my travels. The details of our progress across the Peninsula could not be givenhere, but I will relate one of our first experiences with thetree-dwellers of Kelantan, when we were camped on the head-waters of theLebah River in that province, where, I believe, no white man had everbeen before. 

We had systematically prospected the various mountain-streams in thewest for gold without result; but here we had discovered unmistakabletraces of the precious metal; and our hearts being gladdenedaccordingly, we prepared to explore still farther into the mountains insearch of the mother-lode. 

"It's rather a curious thing, " said Phil at this time, "that we have metnone of the Sakis so far. I should like to see a specimen of the tribebefore we leave their confounded country. "

"They're like oorsel's, " grunted Mac, "they canna abide the smell o'Cheeniemen; but A'm thinkin' we're near their special habitation noo. "

There was considerable truth in Mac's observation. All along the PerakRiver, which we had followed for nearly a hundred miles before branchingoff across an inviting pass in the dividing ranges, we had met thealmond-eyed Celestials in great bands clearing the forest growths andprospecting for tin in the most unlikely places. Perak, I shouldmention, is the Malay word for silver, it having been supposed that vastlodes of that metal abounded in the river valley; but, as a matter offact, there has been very little silver located anywhere near itsvicinity. 

We had managed to shake off the yellow-skinned Mongols immediately wediverged into the mountains, and since that time we had been crossingluxurious upland forests, and struggling through long stretches ofjungle country in turn. It was quite possible that the Sakis had seenus, though we had not seen them, for our time had been more occupied inevading reptiles and wild animals than in scanning the tree-tops fortheir imp-like denizens. 

"I vote, " said the Captain, who was the dead-shot of our party, "that weleave the Sakis alone. We're in their country now, you know, and there'ssuch a thing as tempting Providence. "

Phil smiled; he was young and enthusiastic, and he was also an ardentethnographist. "We'll take things as we find them, Captain, " said he, "but we usually manage to run across some odd specimens of humanity inour travels. Now, what did you think of the Achinese?"

"A thocht them wonderfu' bloodthirsty folk, " grumbled Stewart, tenderlypatting a slowly healing scar on his cheek. "They vera near feenishedme, an' if Mac hadna come along in time A wad hae been cut intosausages----"

I interrupted his ruminations, and saved the company a harrowingdescription of what had happened in Sumatra. "We've heard that so oftennow, Stewart, " I said, "that we think you might give us a rest. "

Mac cackled harshly in agreement, but Skelton, the stalwart Devonian, who was doctor of our outfit, said rather grimly, "If you get a similarsmash in this country, Stewart, my boy, I'm afraid you won't live totell of it, for we don't seem to be getting into a healthier atmosphere, though we are a good few thousand feet above sea-level. "

Stewart subsided gloomily, feeling his pulse the while. 

"A believe ye're richt, " he replied lugubriously, "what wi' malaria an'muskitties, an' Cheeniemen----"

He broke down, and sought sympathy from his compatriot, who wasleisurely chewing quinine tabloids with an air of relish. 

"Dinna be nervish, ma man, " cheerfully spoke that worthy, "an' aye keepin mind that A'll mak' ye a bonnie moniment when A gang hame; a ralebonnie moniment, wi' a maist splendiferous inscreeption. Hoo would thislook, for instance?" Here he struck an attitude, and recited solemnly:"Errected tae the memory o' puir auld Stewart----"

At this stage Stewart smote his Job's comforter with a force and fervourthat showed him to be possessed of considerable muscular powers; thenthere was peace. 

Our hammocks were swung near the river, on the edge of a dense forest inwhich areca and apia palms raised their stately heads among ebony andcamphor trees, and a plentiful sprinkling of wiry bamboo growths. Thefoliage was so thick in places as to be almost impenetrable, and amidthe clinging underscrub the guttapercha plant and numerous others withnames unknown to us struggled for existence. 

The river was here a fairly broad and oily stream, with rather adangerous current; below us it surged and roared over a series of jaggedlimestone rocks, but higher up its course led across a plateau whichextended farther than we could guess, for the mountains faded back intothe far distance and reared their gaunt peaks above a bewildering sea ofluxurious tropical vegetation. It was these mountains we were anxious toreach now, but how to do it promised to be a question not easilyanswered. 

After some consideration we decided to follow the river-channel as faras possible, and cut off the curves by blazing a way through the thicketwith our axes. And so, on the morning following our discovery of gold, we packed a fortnight's stores in our kits and trudged off, first takingthe precaution to sling our remaining provisions in an odd hammock fromthe limb of a tall palm, where we hoped to find them on our return. Travelling is not an easy matter in these latitudes, and we hadsucceeded so far only with great difficulty and much perseverance. Wherethe rivers were navigable we had usually progressed by means of hastilyconstructed rafts, but the stream now flowed too swiftly to allow ofthat form of transport, and we had therefore to work our passage in thestrictest sense of the word. 

For three days we forged ahead, now clambering along the banks of theswirling torrent, and again crashing through the darkened forest, usingour axes energetically. More than once, in the stiller waters betweenthe curves, huge crocodiles were seen disporting themselves cumbrously, and when we approached they fixed their baleful eyes on us, and camesteadily on until the Captain stopped their leader by a well-directedbullet. The crocodiles of this region seemed extremely ferocious, andno sooner had one of their number been rendered _hors de combat_ thanthe horrible carcass was carried off in triumph by a school of the latesaurian's neighbours. 

"They appear tae have vera healthy appetites, " murmured Stewartthoughtfully, as he gazed at the ravenous monsters, after an exhibitionof this sort. "A wunner, " he continued, addressing Skelton, "if theybastes are affected by the climate?"

"You've got me there, Stewart, " replied Skelton, with a laugh; "but theydon't seem to need quinine to aid their digestion, anyhow. "

Birds of the most beautiful plumage fluttered among the branches, and Ihad the good fortune to bring down a gorgeous bird of paradise with myrifle. Mac, like the ancient mariner, insisted on carrying this birdround his neck rather than leave it for the tigers and bisons, though herepented of his resolution before he had gone far. Of the wild animalsencountered on this march I could write much. Fortunately the lordlytiger seldom met us in an aggressive mood, but we had severalexperiences with "Old Stripes, " nevertheless--at long range; and we wereconstantly stumbling over squeaking pigs and venomous reptiles of manykinds. Little brown animals of the bear family were especiallyubiquitous, so that our time was kept rather fully employed on our longtrail towards the supposed land of El Dorado. 

As we neared the shadowy mountains, the river-channel narrowedgradually until it formed a deep gorge, in which the swirling watersdashed like the flood of some gigantic mill-race; and we were forced tokeep the shelter of the forest rather than risk stumbling into theapparently bottomless abysses. 

"I'm afraid we cannot go much farther, boys, " I said, when we werestruggling through the thicket, steering by compass, and with the riverthundering noisily away to our left. 

"The gold in the mountains won't help us much if we have to transportour goods over this sort of country, " spoke Phil; and there was muchtruth in his words. 

"I have been noticing, " remarked Skelton, "that instead of reaching afiner climate we seem to be coming into a very poisonous atmosphere, judging by the odour of the vegetation. "

It was certainly strange that the air should continue so dank anddepressing at our high altitude, and several times a most extraordinarystench, as of decaying carcasses, would assail our nostrils and cause usto grow faint and sickly. Soon we began to notice that these poisonousvapours were most pungent in the vicinity of certain enormouscactus-like growths which we encountered here and there; but these hugeplants looked so picturesque and beautiful that we found it hard tobelieve that they could taint the air so frightfully. 

"It's rather odd, " said Skelton doubtfully, "that where these giantspiky lilies grow there is always an open space clear around, as ifnothing could live in their presence. "

"Ah, mon!" howled Mac at that moment, sniffing the ether in disgust. "Could onybody believe---- A'll gang an' investeegate this meenit. Comeon, Stewart. "

They rushed off at once, and we followed hastily, for the evilexhalations were overpowering, and we meant to trace the cause. Sureenough one of the cacti, with wide-spreading leaves which trailed on theground for several yards, proved to be the seat of the virulent fumes. None of us had ever met such a plant before. A vast bulb was suspendedon a thick stem, which rose from the heart of the leathery leaves, andthis we prepared to examine intently, though we were all but overcome bythe foul gases given off. 

"It's a big an' a bonnie flooer, " muttered Stewart, extending his hand, and thrusting it into the massive blossom. Then he emitted a yell thatwould have done credit to a full-grown grizzly bear. "It's living!" hebellowed, "an' it's biting me. Cut its heid aff! Quick! Ough!"

"A carnivorous plant!" cried Skelton, decapitating the stem with onestroke of his axe; and Stewart hurriedly drew back his hand with theclinging flower attached. It was indeed a carnivorous plant, and when wehad rescued our companion from its clutches, we held our nostrils andexamined the depths of the odoriferous flower. 

"No wonder it smells, " said Phil, as the carcasses of birds and insectsinnumerable were tumbled out. 

"What a grand thing it would be for Cheeniemen!" commented Mac. 

"Let's go on, boys, for mercy's sake, " implored the Captain. "I'd rathermeet a tiger any day than one of these vile vegetable traps. "

Stewart's wrist had been squeezed so tightly that it was some timebefore he could move it freely. "It would hae nippit ma hand clean offif you hadna beheided it sae quick, " said the sufferer gratefully toSkelton as we resumed our march; and I think he was not far wrong. 

Our progress now became slower and slower, and our first intention ofreaching the mountain-range beyond the forest was in a similar degreegrowing less definite. I could not see how we were to gain ourobjective, judging by the myriad obstructions in our track, and on thefourth day after leaving camp we had almost decided to retrace oursteps. 

"I have given up hope of seeing the natives of this peculiar country, "said Phil, as we tied up our hammocks after breakfast, "and if we gomuch farther we will cross down the Malacca slope, where there isnothing but Chinamen. "

"If we do not reach a break in the forest before the day is finished, " Isaid, when we had again got on the move, "we'll turn and get down theriver to our old camp. "

"What on earth is that?" suddenly cried the Captain, seizing his rifleand gazing into the gently swaying branches overhead. We looked, andsaw an ungainly creature huddled among the spreading fronds, glaring atus with eyes that were half-human, half-catlike in expression. 

"A chimpanzee, most likely, " I said. "Don't shoot, Captain; it is but asample of what man looked like once. "

"I think it is an orang-outang, " remarked Phil, "and he would make shortwork of us if he came down. "

Mac gazed dubiously at the animal. "A'll slauchter him, " said he, raising his deadly blunderbuss; but the huge ape seemed to understandthe action, and with half a dozen bounds he had vanished, swinging fromtree to tree like a living pendulum. 

Again we went on, but we had not proceeded fifty yards when a harshhowling all around caused us to halt and examine our firearms nervously. Then a shower of needle-like darts whizzed close to our ears, and arenewed commotion among the branches arrested our attention. Looking up, we saw fully a score of wild shaggy heads thrust out from the clusteringfoliage; but before we had time to collect ourselves, another fusiladeof feather-like missiles descended upon us, penetrating our thinclothing, and pricking us most painfully. 

"Monkeys!" roared Mac. 

"No. Sakis!" corrected Phil, as we hurriedly sought safety in retreat. 

"If these arrows are poisoned, we're dead 'uns, sure, " groaned theCaptain, squirming on the ground, and endeavouring to sight his rifle onthe impish creatures. 

"They're not poisoned; they are merely pointed reeds blown throughbamboo tubes, " said Skelton, after a hasty examination. "They won't hurtmuch; but if they get near us with their clubs----"

Another hail of the pigmy arrows rustled through the branches to rear ofus. "Give them the small shot of your gun, Mac, just to scare them, " Icried. 

"Sma' shot indeed!" retorted that fiery individual, and the boom of hisartillery filled my ears as he spoke. 

An unearthly yell of terror and surprise broke from the aborigines atthe sound of the heavy discharge, followed by a series of piercingshrieks as a few stray pellets touched them. 

"Make for the river, boys!" I shouted. "Get clear of the trees!"

The air was now filled with the tiny darts, and my thick pith helmetintercepted so many of them that, as Mac said afterwards, it looked likea miniature reed-plantation. Far on our left the deep rumble of theriver was heard, and towards it we rushed blindly, closely followed by ayelling horde who sprang like squirrels from tree to tree. 

"Where is the Captain?" roared Stewart suddenly, as we ran; and then Inoticed that there were but four of us together. Without a word weturned and dashed back into the midst of the Sakis' camp; and there wesaw the Captain lying on his face, with his gun resting loosely at hisshoulder. A perfect inferno raged around as we reached his side, and mycompanions, roused to a pitch of frenzy, fired volley after volley amongthe yelping band. 

"Get back, ye wretches, " roared Mac; "A'll carry him masel'. "

Skelton calmly picked several darts from the Captain's neck, then felthis pulse. "He has only fainted, " he said. "These darts have gone prettydeep. "

The Captain was a heavy man, but Mac gathered him in his strong armslike a child. "Tak' ma gun, Stewart, " he directed, "and see that ye daeguid work wi' it if driven to it. " Then we made a second break for theopen by the river. The whole forest seemed to be alive with Sakis now;they yelled at us from every other tree, and shot their irritatingarrows from every sheltered clump of brushwood. Luckily the range oftheir odd weapons was not extensive, and by skilful manoeuvring wemanaged to save ourselves greatly, otherwise we should have beenperforated from head to foot. 

When we neared the river and could see the welcome light of day shiningthrough the trees, our pursuers, probably deterred by our guns, grewless enthusiastic in the chase; and when the edge of the forest wasreached they had apparently drawn off altogether. 

"To think that we should hae to run like that, frae--frae monkeys!"snorted Stewart indignantly as we halted. "It's fair disgracefu'. "

The Captain slowly opened his eyes, and looked at me reproachfully. 

"That chimpanzee that we didn't shoot, " said he feebly, "is one of thesame family, for the brute must have given the alarm----"

"There he is noo!" cried Mac. "Gie me ma gun, Stewart, an' A'llobleeterate him, nae matter wha's grandfaither he is. "

I caught a glimpse of the huge ape swinging backwards into the thicket, then Mac's vengeful weapon spoke, and the Sakis' strange scout cametumbling to the ground. A yell of rage issued from the forest, andinstantly a number of our late pursuers appeared and dragged theorang-outang back whence they came. 

"I haven't had much opportunity of studying the beggars, " said Phil, "but I'm not growling. They are the most apish people I could ever haveimagined. "

"Instead of gold, " commented Skelton grimly, "we've all got a fair-sizeddose of malaria----"

"And various other trifles, " added Mac, as he extracted the darts fromthe more fleshy portions of his anatomy. 

"We'll leave the gold alone this time, boys, " I climaxed; "but we'llhave another try when we can get a stronger party together. Meanwhile, we had better make tracks for the coast, and recuperate our energies. "

XII

A WEEK-END ADVENTURE

For several years it has been my habit to spend my week-ends during thesummer and autumn months in a small yacht called the _Thelma_, of aboutfive tons, as a welcome change from the confined life of the City. 

Many and many a happy, lazy time have I spent in her, sometimes bymyself, at others with a companion, at various delightful spots roundour eastern and southern coasts, occasionally taking short cruises alongthe seaboard, but more often lounging about harbours and estuaries, oreven exploring inland waters. 

On these occasions many little incidents and adventures have occurred, which, though full of interest to any one fond of yachting, yet arehardly worthy of print, and it was not until about a year and a half agothat the following events took place, and seemed to me of sufficientinterest to record. 

The _Thelma_ was at the time at an anchorage in one of my favouritespots, a somewhat lonely East-coast estuary, within easy reach of theopen sea, and, more important still in a way, fairly close to amain-line railway-station, so that I could get to her from town withoutwasting much of my precious time on the way. I had run down late on aFriday night early in September, rejoicing, as only a hard-worked Cityman can rejoice, in the thought of a good forty-eight hours of freedomand fresh air. I was alone, as my exit from town was rather unexpected, and I had no time to find a friend to keep me company; but that did notworry me, as I felt fully able to enjoy myself in solitary peace. 

I found everything prepared for my arrival, having wired to thelongshoreman and his wife, in whose charge I had left the yacht, and Ishould much like to describe in full detail all my enjoyment, but mustpass over the little events of my first day--the Saturday--as they havenothing to do with my "adventure, " though to me the day was brimful ofthorough happiness. 

It was one of those splendid bright days which are happily so frequenton the East coast in September--so calm, indeed, that sailing was out ofthe question, and I spent my time in the small boat or dinghy out in theopen sea a mile or more, fishing in an indolent way for whiting, etc. , and basking in the sun. 

I saw no one all day, and there was little shipping about. A privatewherry anchored opposite the village above the _Thelma_ was the onlycraft in the river, and a few trawlers and coasting steamers far outwere the only vessels to be seen at sea. 

Nothing could have less suggested the likelihood of anything in theshape of "adventure, " and I caught my whiting and dabs in blissful peaceof mind. 

About four o'clock in the afternoon, however, I was roused from myfishing by feeling the air suddenly begin to get chill, and on lookingout to sea saw that a breeze was springing up from the eastward, andbringing with it a bank of thick white sea-fog, which had alreadyblotted out the horizon, and was coming in rapidly. 

This meant rowing home as quickly as possible, as I did not want to becaught in the "thick" before reaching my temporary home, as it mightmean an hour or two's search for such a small yacht in a half-mile wideestuary. 

So, hastily laying aside my fishing-tackle and hauling up the littleanchor, I put my back into the task of "racing the fog, " feelingintensely thankful that the tide was on the flood, and, therefore, animmense help to me. 

Even as it was, I was in a glowing heat by the time I reached the_Thelma_, and only just in time at that, as the first chilly wreaths ofmist were closing round me by the time I got on board. When all was"snug, " and I was ready to go below into my little cabin for tea, a lastglance round showed me that already the low hills on each side of theriver were blotted out, and I could hardly distinguish the wherryanchored away up above me, or the houses of the village off which shelay. 

Oh, how cosy and bright the little cabin looked when I settled down fora nondescript meal, half-tea, half-dinner, about an hour later!

The lamp, hung from the deck above, gave a mellow light, the kettle sangon the stove, and the fresh-caught whiting were simply delicious (Ipride myself on my cooking on these occasions), whilst London, work, andmy fellow-beings seemed far away in some other sphere. 

This feeling of isolation was considerably increased later on, when, after a hearty meal and a dip into a story, I put my head out of thehatch to take a customary "last look round" before turning in. 

I suppose it was about 10 p. M. ; there was no moon, and I never remembera denser fog. At first, after the lighted cabin, I could distinguishabsolutely nothing, except where the beam of light from the cabin lampstruggled past me through the open hatch into a white thickness which Ican only liken to vaporous cotton-wool. 

Even when my eyes got a little accustomed to the change from light todarkness, I could only just make out the mizzen-mast astern and thelower part of the main-mast forward; beyond these was nothing butimpenetrable thickness. 

Not a sound reached me, except the mournful muffled hooting of asteamer's syren at intervals; no doubt some wretched collier, nosing herway at half-speed through the fog, in momentary terror of collision. 

I don't think I ever felt so cut off from humanity in my life as in thattiny yacht, surrounded as I was by impenetrable density above andaround, and the deep rushing tide below in a lonely water-way. 

No doubt this eerie feeling of loneliness had a great deal to do with mysensations later on, which, on looking back in after-days, have oftenstruck me as being more acute and nervous than they had any right to be. 

Be that as it may, I was not nervous when I closed the hatch and "turnedin, " for I recollect congratulating myself that I was in a safeanchorage, out of the way of traffic, and not on board the steamer whichI had heard so mournfully making known her whereabouts in the open sea. 

I think my "nerves" had their first real unsettling about half an hourafterwards, just as I was sinking off into a peaceful, profound slumber, for it seemed to me that I had been roused by a sound like a scream ofpain or fear, coming muffled and distant through the fog; but from whatdirection, whether up or down the river, or from the shore, I could nottell. 

I raised myself on my elbow and listened intently, but heard nothingmore, and reflecting that, even if what I had heard was more than fancy, I was helpless, shut in on every hand by impenetrable fog, to renderaid; I could do no more than utter a fervent hope, amounting to aprayer, that no poor soul had strayed into the water on such a night. Itis easy, too, when roused out of a doze, to imagine one has only_fancied_ a thing, and I had soon persuaded myself that what I hadheard was no more than the shriek of a syren or cry of a disturbedsea-gull, and sank once more into a doze, which this time merged intothat solid sleep which comes to those who have had a long day insea-air. 

Somewhere in that vague period we are apt to call "the middle of thenight, " and which may mean any time between our falling asleep anddaybreak, I dreamt that I was in bed in my London lodgings, that a chumof mine had come in to arouse me, and to do so had gently kicked thebedpost, sending a jarring sensation up my spine. 

At first I was merely angry, and only stirred in my sleep; but he did itagain, and I awoke, intending to administer a scathing rebuke to thedisturber of my peace. 

But I awoke on board the _Thelma_, and realised, with a feeling akin toalarm, that the sensation of "jarring" had been real, and the knockingwhich caused it came from something or _some one outside the boat_. 

At first I could hardly believe my senses, and raised myself on myelbow, my whole being strained as it were into the one faculty forlistening. 

Again, this time close to my head, against the starboard bulkhead, camethe sound, like two gentle "thuds" on the planking, causing a distincttremor to thrill through the yacht. 

I cannot imagine any more "eerie" sensation than to go to sleep as I haddone, with a profound sense of isolation and loneliness, cut off fromhumanity by a waste of fog and darkness and far-stretching water, and tobe awakened in the dead of night by the startling knowledge that outsidethere, in that very loneliness, only divided from my little cabin by athin planking--was _something_--and that something not shouting as anyhuman being would shout at such a time--but _knocking_--as if wishing tobe let in to warmth and comfort, out of the chill and darkness. 

Can I be blamed if my suddenly aroused and somewhat bemused sensesplayed tricks with me, and my startled imagination began to conjure upthe gruesome stories I had heard of weird visitants, and ghostly beings, heard but seldom seen, on the East Anglian meres and broads? Then againcame the remembrance of the shriek or cry I had fancied I heard earlierin the night, and with a shudder I thought: "How ghastly if it should bethe drowned body of him whose cry I had heard, knocking thus in grislyfashion to be taken in before the tide carried it away to sea!"

So far had my excited imagination carried me, when again the yacht shookwith the thud of something striking her, and a great revulsion of reliefcame over me as I recognised the dull sound of wood striking wood, thistime farther aft, and I laughed aloud at my cowardice. 

No doubt a log of driftwood, bumping its way along the side of theyacht, as logs will, as the ebbing tide carried it seawards. 

However, by this time I had lighted the lamp; so, to satisfy my stillperturbed though much ashamed mind, I thrust my feet into sea-boots andmy body into a pea-jacket over my clothes, and went on deck, lamp inhand, to see what my unwelcome visitor really was. 

Through the mist, dimly illumined by the lamp, I made out the shadowyoutline of a boat, drifting slowly towards the stern of the yacht, andoccasionally bumping gently against her side. 

Another moment or two and the derelict would have vanished into thenight. But the long boathook lay at my feet along the bulwark, and, almost instinctively, I caught it up with one hand, whilst setting thelamp down with the other, ran to the stern and made a wild grab in thedark towards where I thought she would be. 

The hook caught, and I hauled my prize alongside; stooping down, I feltfor the painter, which I naturally expected to find trailing in thewater, thinking the boat had broken loose from somewhere throughcarelessness in making her fast. 

To my surprise it was coiled up _inside_ the bows. Puzzling over this, Imade the end fast to a cleat on the yacht, then took the lamp and turnedthe light over the side, so that it shone fairly into the boat. 

Then, for the second time that night, my pulses beat fast, and my scalptingled with something approaching fear, and I wished I had a friend onboard with me. 

It seemed as if my foolish idea of a dead body asking for compassionwas coming true. For there was a huddled-up form lying on the bottom ofthe boat, its head inclined half on and half off the stern thwart, itswhole attitude suggestive of the helplessness of death. 

I stood as if paralysed for a few seconds, filled with a craven longingto get back to the cosy cabin, shut the hatch, and wait till daylightbefore approaching any nearer that still form, dreading what horrors anexamination might reveal. But more humane and reasonable thoughts sooncame; perhaps this poor drifting bit of humanity was not dead, but hadbeen sent my way in the dead of night to revive and shelter. 

Feeling that I must act at once, or I might not act at all--or at leasttill daybreak--I put a great restraint upon my feelings of repugnance, caught up the lamp, stepped into the boat, and raised the drooping headon to my arm. 

As I did so, the hood-like covering which had concealed the face fellback, and in a moment all my shrinking and horror vanished once forall--swallowed up in pity, compassion, and amazement--for on my armrested the sweet face of a young and very pretty girl, marred only byits pallor and a bad bruise on the right temple. 

Even in the lamplight I could see she was a lady born and bred; her facealone told me that, and the rich material of fur-lined cloak and hoodmerely confirmed it. 

Here was no horrible midnight visitor, then; but certainly what seemedto me a great mystery--far more so than the dead body of labourer orwherry-man floating down with the tide would have furnished. 

A lady, insensible apparently from a blow on the forehead, floatingalone in an open boat at midnight, on a lonely tidal water, far from anyresort of the class to which she seemed to belong, and saved from longhours of exposure--perhaps death--by the marvellous chance (if it couldbe called so) of colliding with my yacht on the way to the open sea. 

It was too great a puzzle to attempt to solve on the spur of the moment, and I had first to apply myself to the evident duty of getting my fairand mysterious visitor into my cabin, there to try to undo the effectsof whatever untoward accidents had befallen her. 

It was no easy matter, single-handed and in darkness, except for thehazy beam of light from the lamp on deck, to get her from the swinging, lurching boat to the yacht. But, luckily for me, my burden was light andslender, and I did it without mishap, I hardly know how, and then soonhad her in the little cabin, laid carefully upon my blankets and rugs, with a pillow under her head. 

I soon knew she was alive, for there was a distinct, though slight, riseand fall of her bosom as she breathed, but my difficulty was to knowwhat remedies to apply. I have a little experience in resuscitating thehalf-drowned, but in this case insensibility seemed to have been causedby the blow on her forehead, if it was not from shock or fear. 

So all I could do was to force a few drops of brandy between the whiteteeth, and bathe the forehead patiently, and hope that nature would soonreassert itself with these aids. 

After what seemed a long while to me, but which I suppose was not morethan a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, one of the little whitehands moved, a deep sigh came from the lips, and I thought she was"coming to. "

But it was merely a change from one state of insensibility to another;for, though a colour came back into the cheeks and the breathing grewstronger and more regular, the warmth of the cabin had its effect, andshe sank into a natural and peaceful sleep. 

My greatest anxiety being now relieved, and my fair young visitorrestored to animation and resting peacefully enough, my mind naturallyturned to the consideration of the strange position I was sounexpectedly placed in; but in my state of absolute ignorance as to theidentity of my charge, where she came from, what had happened, and ofthe whole chain of circumstances which led up to her strange visit, Icame to the conclusion that I could only wait for her to awake andenlighten me before taking any steps whatever. It might mean losingvaluable time to try to find out anything by going off in the fog anddarkness; whilst, meanwhile, the poor girl might awake and find herselfdeserted, instead of finding me ready and waiting to take herinstructions for her safe restoration to her friends. 

So there was nothing for me to do but wait, and having made up the firein the stove and put the kettle on in readiness for a cup of tea, I mademyself as comfortable as I could in a corner and longed for daylight. 

As I watched the face of the sleeping girl, now rather flushed from thewarmth of the cabin and the unaccustomed drops of spirit I had givenher, I thought I had never before seen a fairer and sweeter countenance, and even then began to bless the chance which had allowed me to becomeher protector. 

Once she stirred, and a look of dread, almost terror, came into herface, and I heard her utter in an agonised voice the single word"Harold. "

It may sound ridiculous, but, coming so soon after my feelings of tender"protectiveness, " I felt quite a pang of jealousy against the unknownowner of the name, and wondered in what relation she stood to him andwhy her thought of him should bring such evident pain. However, she didnot awake as yet, and I had to possess my soul in patience for this andall the other enlightenment I longed for. 

I must have slept at last, for the next thing I remember was seeing afaint daylight struggling through the skylight and realising that thefire was nearly out, in spite of my resolve to keep a watch over it. Inmaking it up I clumsily dropped a lump of coal, and the girl stirred, opened her eyes, and sat up at once, evidently refreshed by her sleepand in full possession of all her faculties, and, of course, utterlybewildered at her surroundings and at finding a perfect stranger incharge of her. 

It made my heart ache to see, as memory came back and she recalled the(to me unknown) events of the night, a cloud of dread and anxiety comeover her, and her eyes fill with tears at the recollection; and if I hadfelt drawn to her before, I was doubly so now, when I saw her bravelybrace herself to talk of them, and even smile up at me as she said--

"Will you tell me where I am, and how I got here? It seems to me I havea lot to thank you for!"

I told her as briefly as I could the happenings of the night as far as Iknew them, and then said--

"Now I am burning to hear your adventures, and longing to help you toget back to your friends; but I beg of you not to tell me more than youfeel inclined, nor to put any strain on yourself at present, but justtell me sufficient for me to know how to act for you. "

She assured me she felt quite well, except for a headache (whichcertainly was only to be expected with such a bruise on her poor whiteforehead), and would like to tell me everything, as it would be a reliefto her mind to do so, and with the most charming little blush sheadded--

"I feel so sure you will know just what is best to be done, and Ishould like to confide my fears to you. "

So, whilst I busied myself in getting a sort of hasty breakfast ready, partly because we both needed it, but more for the sake of making iteasier for her to speak of things which might be painful for her tomention with my eyes upon her, she told me all, and it was quite amazinghow simply everything was explained. 

Her name--which she mentioned no doubt because I had carefully told hermine--was Lilian Burfield, and she and her brother Harold (I feltfoolishly relieved to hear it was her _brother's_ name she had called onin her sleep) lived with their father at a large house some three milesfrom the village up the river. A day or two before these events, somefriends of theirs, a Mr. And Mrs. Small, had brought their wherry up theriver to visit them, whilst on a cruise. On the Friday they had spentthe afternoon on board, and she and her brother had been induced to stayto dinner, and play a game or two afterwards; but her father had beenobliged to leave earlier on account of some engagement. 

About 10. 30 they left (although the Smalls pressed them to stop on boardall night when they saw how thick the fog had become), feeling confidentthat they could not well miss the landing-stage, as it was not more thana hundred yards from the yacht. 

However, it seemed that they _had_ done so, as the boat took the groundon a mud-bank, and stuck fast. 

Her brother was unable to push off, and asked her to help, so she stoodup and, with the other oar, moved to assist him. The shifting of herweight must have loosened the boat, as at that very moment her brothergave a shove and they shot off the mud with a lurch, sending her withgreat violence into the bottom of the boat and stunning her. 

As she fell (and here I heard a break in the low, sweet voice which wastelling me the tale) she remembered seeing her brother disappearoverboard, upset by the sudden movement of the boat beneath him, andbelieved she gave a cry at the sight; but knew no more till she awakenedin the cabin of the _Thelma_. 

The simple narrative ceased, and I wondered that when trying to puzzleout where she could have come from, I had never thought to connect thewherry I had seen in the morning with my visitor's sudden appearance. 

How marvellous it seemed, though, that the boat with its helplessfreight should have been carried by the ebbing tide straight into mycare, and how deeply thankful I was that it had been so ordered, savingthe poor girl from a terrible, lonely drift out to sea, from many hours'exposure, perhaps from being run down by a passing vessel, certainlyfrom grave danger in many ways!

Now I could see my way at last as to my next move, and hastened toassure my anxious visitor that I had little fear for her brother'ssafety, as I knew there were no mudbanks in that part of the riverexcept those along the edge of the shore, and therefore he would almostcertainly have been able to scramble out. 

There were still one or two things I did not quite understand, however, so, whilst we ate a fairly hearty meal off the remainder of my whiting, I plied her with a question or two, and by-and-by we got very friendlyand cheerful, and I quite disliked the idea of going out into the mistymorning to make arrangements for giving up my fair and charming visitor. 

As for Miss Burfield (as I now must call her), her spirits rose with myhopeful words, and as the food had its effect on her physically. 

But in my mind was a sinister fear, which I carefully kept from her. 

I had heard no shouts, no sound of any search, either in the night norsince daybreak, which seemed strange; and it had occurred to me that_if_ the young fellow had been drowned this would be explained, forthose on the wherry might know nothing, thinking their visitors hadreached the shore, while those ashore might think they had stoppedovernight on board on account of the fog, and so no search would bemade, no alarm taken. 

I asked whose was the boat they were in and which I had secured, wondering if it would be missed. 

"It belonged to a man in the village, " she said. "We borrowed it becausethe man who works the wherry for the Smalls was away for the night, andwe thought we would save Mr. Small the trouble of rowing us ashore solate at night in his own boat. "

"Was the owner waiting up for you to bring the boat back?" I asked. 

"No, we promised to tie it up safely, so that he need not worry aboutit, " she answered. 

So, there again, they would not be missed till the man failed to findhis boat, which might not be for hours yet. It seemed to me that I mighthave the terrible duty of breaking the bad news of the loss of the youngman, instead of, as I had thought, the good tidings of the finding ofthe lost girl. 

But that remained to be proved, and I could only hope for the best. 

In any case my duty was now plain, and with a few cheering words to mycompanion, telling her that I was going to the village to report hersafety, and to send a messenger to her home that they might come andfetch her, and would be back as soon as possible with (I hoped) the goodnews of her brother's safety, I set off, early as it was, and rowedmyself ashore in the dinghy. I was glad to see that the fog was thinningeven then, and by the time I had landed and run along the towing-path tothe village, the sun was just visible through the haze, giving everyhope of a lovely day. 

With mingled feelings of dread and hope I approached the scatteredhouses of the little hamlet, half fearing to see groups of men by theriver-side searching for some gruesome object, and, again, when allseemed still and peaceful, fearing that the absence of movement mightmean the very thing I dreaded--namely, that the catastrophe hadhappened, and no one any the wiser. 

There lay the wherry, without sight or sound of any living person onboard; no one was moving in the little straggling street; not a dogbarked. 

I went straight to the old inn, which stood about a hundred yards fromthe landing-stage, opposite the wherry's anchorage, and knocked loudlyat the door. No one answered, so I tried the latch, the door opened tomy hand, and I walked into the brick-floored bar, and at first thoughtit was empty. 

Then I heard a slight movement and the sound of a yawn, and, lookingtowards the large settle by the side of the hearth, saw my oldacquaintance, the innkeeper, evidently aroused by my knocking from asound sleep, rubbing his eyes and stiffly getting to his feet. 

Much astonished he looked when he saw who his visitor was, as he did notknow I had come down to the yacht, and certainly was not accustomed tosuch early rising on my part. 

His first words gave me a cold feeling of apprehension, for onrecognising me he said--

"Oh, sir, I am glad you are here; perhaps you will be able to help us inthis dreadful business. "

"What dreadful business?" I said, sharply enough, for I feared hisanswer, and dared not ask a more direct question, for the thought ofthe sweet girl I had left behind in the _Thelma_, and the news itseemed I was to take back to her, was almost too much for me. 

"Dear, dear, haven't you heard, sir?" went on the old man, thoroughlyawake now in his eagerness to impart the news. "There's that poor, dearMiss Burfield, the sweetest young lady as ever I knew, gone floatingdown the river last night in the fog all alone, and goodness knows whathas become of her, poor dear, by now--and her young brother, too, wetthrough as he was, gone off with the gentleman from yonder wherry in aboat to look for her, hours ago--and a poor chance of finding her, _I_say, till the fog blows off, even if they don't lose themselves as wellas her. And the poor old squire, too, he be in a dreadful way, andsendin' messengers to all the coastguards for miles, he is, to look outfor the lady----"

Here the old man paused for want of breath, and I--completely relievedby his rambling statement from my fear about the girl's brother, hastened to relieve him with my astonishing news that Miss Burfield wassafe and sound in my yacht, and had been so for some hours. 

Eager as I was to get back to the _Thelma_ with my good news, I couldnot get away till I had told the good old fellow how it had happenedthat I had rescued her, and he in return told me how young Burfield hadrushed, muddy and dripping, into the inn as they were all going to bed, and demanded help in the search for his sister. No boat was to be had atthe moment, and so they had shouted till Mr. Small came ashore in hisown boat, and had at once rowed away with young Burfield down the river, in the thick darkness, with the faint hope of finding the missing girlbefore she drifted into the open sea. 

"I told 'em it warn't much good, " ended the old man, "and that they'dbest wait till daylight, but they would go. As for me, I reckon I'vedone the best thing, for I druv' over at once to the coastguards downyonder, and told 'em to keep a look out at the mouth o' the river. Iain't been back long, and was just takin' a nap when you found me, as Ihadn't the 'art to go to bed. "

Having arranged with him to send the good news to all concerned, especially to the Hall, where old Mr. Burfield must doubtless be in aterrible state of anxiety, I hurried back along the towing-path, rejoicing in the thought that I should now be able to relieve my fairvisitor's mind of her anxiety. 

I found her on deck, looking anxious, indeed, but so pretty and fresh inspite of her trying night's experiences, that my impressions of thenight were greatly intensified, and I began to bless the unusualcircumstances that had brought us together and made us friends, as itwere, from the first moment of our acquaintance; and I registered amental vow that the bond thus created between us should never be broken, if it lay in my power to prevent it. 

And when I had told her the good news, and we had at last an opportunityof friendly converse unclouded by forebodings and anxious thoughts, Ifor one thoroughly enjoyed the companionship, and allowed myself to hopethat it was not altogether disagreeable to my charming visitor. 

It did not seem long, therefore, to me before the arrival of Mr. Burfield, who overwhelmed me with far more thanks and gratitude than Ideserved, and insisted on my spending the rest of that week-end at theHall--an invitation backed up in irresistible fashion by his daughter. To complete the general satisfaction, whilst we were talking we heardthe sound of oars, and saw a boat approaching, containing two of themost weary and dispirited-looking men I ever saw. 

They proved to be Mr. Small and Mr. Harold Burfield, returning dead-beatand miserable after a fruitless and wretched search for the missingboat, to get food and to make arrangements for a further expedition. Howcan I describe their intense relief and astonishment when--summoned by amighty shout--they pulled to shore, and saw the girl they imagineddrifting helplessly miles out at sea standing on shore, safe and sound, and in infinitely better case than themselves, and heard that she hadnever been farther than where she now was from the scene of the accidentthe night before?

Later on I asked Harold Burfield why he had not shouted as he rowed downthe river after his sister in the darkness, when I might have heard andanswered. 

He said that at first he thought it no use, as he knew his sister'sboat must have had a long start of them; and later, when they had rowedsome way, and considered they must have caught up with it, they had doneso at intervals all night long, on the chance of her hearing. 

So I suppose that, either they were past the _Thelma_ before they beganto call, or else in the fog had got so far over on the other side of thechannel that their voices had not reached me, as I was shut up in mycabin. 

So all the little mysteries were cleared up, and everything had "comeright in the end, " as such things should. 

I have spent many a happy week-end since then at the Hall and on boardthe _Thelma_, and to my dying day I shall bless the fog of thatSeptember night, for Lilian has promised shortly to fix the day of ourwedding, and we have both decided that part of the honeymoon at least isto be spent on board the _Thelma_; and I really believe that we shallboth be rather disappointed if we do not get a bit of foggy weather toremind us how we first made each other's acquaintance, and made friendsover "whiting and tea" in the little cabin at six o'clock in themorning. 

XIII

THE DEFLECTED COMPASS

The paddle-steamer _Queen of the Isles_ was alongside the quay at St. Mary's, and had already given one shrill intimation that she wasprepared to leave the harbour. Sydney and I were ready, with ourportmanteaux strapped and our caps on, but the Honourable John had notyet appeared. We were impatient. Very important was it that we shouldcatch the mail out of Penzance that same evening, for the followingmorning we were all due in London. Any delay in our return would betaken from the holidays of the next batch, and we should never hear thelast of it if we were late, to say nothing of the unfairness of reducingthe well-earned rest of the next batch by our dilatoriness and lack ofconsideration. We had taken the precaution to settle the hotel accounts, because we knew the habits of the Honourable John, and we stood in thehall with the thunder gathering upon our brows, and threatening to pealforth in tones more loud than complimentary. 

"If he isn't down in two minutes, Syd, I'm off, " said I, pulling out mywatch, and nervously noting the jerky springs of the spidery second-handthat seemed to be in a much greater hurry than usual. 

"John!" bawled Syd up the stairway. "Do you hear? You'll miss thesteamer. "

"What's the fellow doing?" I asked, with irritation, as I observed thathalf a minute had passed. 

"Waxing the ends of his ridiculous moustache, " answered Syd; then, turning again to the foot of the stairs, "John! We're going. Hurry up!"

A door opened on the landing, and a voice drawled, "I say, you chaps, have you paid the bill?"

"Certainly, " said I. "Come along. We've barely time to catch thesteamer. Didn't you hear the whistle?"

"I heard something a little while ago, a sort of an ear-piercing shriekthat startled me, and caused me to nick my chin with the razor. I shallhave to put a bit of flesh-coloured plaster over it. Was that thewhistle?" asked the Honourable John in the most tantalising, nonchalantway, as if he had all the day before him. 

We looked up the stairway, and there he was on the landing, in hisshirt-sleeves, slowly adjusting the ends of a salmon-coloured tie. 

"The two minutes are up, " said I, replacing my watch, and stooping formy portmanteau. At that moment the whistle sounded again, and I hurriedaway, followed by Syd, both of us muttering that the dawdler deserved tobe left, but none the less hoping in our hearts that he would be intime. 

The hotel was near the harbour, and we were soon aboard. On the bridge, between the paddle-boxes, the captain stood with the string attached tothe syren in his hand; beside him, glancing at the compass-card, grasping the spokes of the wheel, and silently awaiting instructions, was one of the men; the mate was for'ard with his whistle; and twolittle knots of islanders were gathered about the moorings on the quay, ready to cast off the hawsers as soon as the paddles moved and thecaptain gave the word. 

Loungers and holiday-makers were stirred into mild excitement by ourexpected departure. Exchanges of farewells, amid occasional shouts and acontinuous ripple of laughter, were passing between those on board andthose ashore. The usually quiet life of St. Mary's was bubbling up inits periodical agitation. By the outgoing and incoming of the steamerthe islanders touched the great world without, and thrilled at the touchand felt its importance. 

It was a pleasant scene, or it would have been but for the inexcusabledelay of the Honourable John. We began to fear that he would be left. The captain pulled the string again, and the syren sounded, with apeculiar urgency, as it seemed to me, ending in a despairing wail; then, stepping to the indicator, he signalled to the engineer, and the paddlesbegan to revolve. The forward hawser was thrown off and fell with asplash into the sea; astern we were yet alongside the quay. 

The Honourable John appeared, resplendent in all the glory of a silkhat and frock coat, with a flower in his buttonhole, his hands gloved inlemon-coloured kids, and his feet shiny with patent leather; the peopleparted to let him pass, and stared at him as if he were a marquis at thevery least, but the porter flung his portmanteau over the bulwarks likethat of any other common tourist; John himself, with more agility than Igave him credit for, sprang aboard only just in time, as the men shouted"All clear aft, sir. "

Once more we heard the click of the bells in the engine-room, and awaywe went through the clear waters, with the white foam mingling in ourwake and the other islands gliding rapidly into view. 

"You donkey!" said I, surveying the delinquent from head to foot, andnoticing particularly the round spot of plaster on his chin. "Why didn'tyou come earlier?"

"Call him a parrakeet, " said Syd. "That will better describe him. "

"He's both, " I replied--"slow as the one and gay as the other. But we'vegot him, and we'll see that he does not defraud young Clifton of asingle minute of the holiday he's waiting for--ay, and well deserves. "

"You're always in such a desperate hurry, " observed the Honourable John, ignoring the epithets with which we assailed him. He was never offended, and never perturbed. When the vials of our wrath were poured upon him, as they had been pretty freely during the holiday, they ran off himlike the proverbial water from the duck's back. We simply could not haveendured his foppishness and dandyism, combined with a temper alwaysserene, if we had not known that at heart he was a very good fellow. "Iwas in time, " said he. 

"You were, " returned Syd significantly--"nearly in time to be late. "

"But I wasn't late, " drawled John, "so what's the good of making a fussabout it. One of the pleasures of life is to take things easily; as myfriend the Irishman once remarked, 'If ye cannot be happy, be aisy; andif ye cannot be aisy, be as aisy as ye can. ' But, I say, I don't callthis a specially bright morning; do you? Look there! We're running intoa bank of fog. "

So we were. A dense white barrier, clean and straight as a wall, rosefrom the sea to the sky, and in another minute we had plunged into it. We did not anticipate so sudden a change. Fog was far from our thoughts, for the morning had been bright and sunny all around the islands, andthe air was very still. For two or three days scarcely a breath of windhad wandered across the brilliant summer atmosphere. Now, with the fog, came a softly moving breeze out of the north-east. The fog driftedbefore it in one immense mass; there was no ripple upon the sea. 

Upon the passengers the effect was very curious; where, a few momentsbefore, there had been ready repartee, interspersed with laughter, nowthere was low-toned commonplace conversation, or a dead silence. We werewrapped in a cloud; moisture began to form in tiny drops upon thestanchions and the deck, upon the beards and moustaches of the male partof the voyagers, upon the woolly texture of the garments of all, evenupon the smoothly brushed silk of the Honourable John's top hat; savefor the swish of the paddles and the running of the engines, with awhispered exclamation here and there, we could hear nothing; and wecould scarcely see the length of the ship. 

It was the first bit of objectionable weather we had experienced duringthe holiday. We had spent a fortnight in the "Delectable Duchy. " FromLooe to Sennen we had not missed a single place worth seeing, and we hadfinished up with a week in the Scilly Isles. Making St. Mary's ourcentre, we had rowed and waded to St. Martin's and St. Agnes', to Trescoand Bryer and Samson and Annet, to Great Ganilly and Great Arthur, toGweal and Illiswilgis, and a host of other places in that shattered andscattered heap of granite which forms the outstanding sentinel of ourfar western coast. The weather had been perfect. But now, having clearedthe road and rounded St. Mary's, we were met by this thick mist, swayingdown upon us like a vast curtain, and quickly enveloping us in itsvapoury folds. 

"You'll want a new topper, John, when we reach Penzance, " said Syd, ashe noted how the moisture was ruffling the silk and dimming its gloss. He laughed as he said it, but, in the silence, his laugh seemed to be anintrusion. 

"You're mistaken, Syd, " he replied; and, as he took off his hat andsurveyed it, he continued, "In all weathers, there's no head gear sodurable, and therefore so economical, as a good silk chimney-pot; andcertainly there's nothing in the way of a _chapeau_ so comfortable andbecoming. "

"Tastes differ, " said I. 

"They do, " answered John, "and I speak about my own. I've tried others. Oh, yes, I have, " said he, as we looked at him incredulously, "and Ispeak from experience. I tell you, they're cheap, if you will only giveenough for them. Why, I know an old fellow who has worn the very sametile, in all weathers, for fifteen years; it has been in the height offashion twice in that time, and it will soon come in again; and it is avery decent thing yet when it has been newly pressed and ironed. "

"I prefer my deerstalker, " said Syd. 

"And I my golfer, " said I. 

"Which shows very plainly that your sartorial education has beenneglected, " returned John, "and I pity you. You are not living up toyour privileges, and, worse still, you are unaware of the privileges youmight live up to. But, I say, this is a sneezer!" and he looked abouthim into the fog, which was becoming denser every minute. "They'relessening the pace. I suppose it wouldn't do to drive along through thisthick stuff. We might reach an unexpected terminus. What say you? Shallwe go on the bridge?"

"The captain may not allow us, " said I. 

"Pooh! I know the cap. He's a forty-second cousin of mine. Come along. I'll introduce you now that we are out of the narrows and in the opensea. "

"It seems to me as if the sea were shut, " whispered Syd, as we followedthe Honourable John to the bridge. 

"Closed, at any rate, " said I, "and with very moist curtains, throughwhich we must push our way unpleasantly enough into the harbour. "

We reached the upper deck, which was dotted with bulgy figures in cloaksand capes, damp, and silent, and melancholy. The bridge formed theforward part of the upper deck, where it terminated amidships; thehelmsman, with his hands upon the spokes, shifted his eyes alternatelybetween the binnacle and the bows, and gave the wheel a turn now thisway and now that, while the captain paced cross-wise between thepaddle-boxes, and searched the mirk above and ahead to see whether therewas any likelihood that the weather would clear. 

Abaft the funnel the deck was free to those of the passengers who heldsaloon tickets, but afore the funnel--that is, on the bridge itself--noone was allowed without the captain's special permission. This space wasrailed off, with a hinged lift in the mahogany on either side, both ofwhich were now down and barred. We were not quite sure whether thecaptain were really the Honourable John's relative, or whether ourcomrade's proposal to join the captain was only one of those erraticnotions which visited his aristocratic brain, and were often carriedthrough with a confidence so complete as to be rarely unsuccessful. Hewas unmercifully snubbed sometimes, and he richly deserved it; but thecurious thing about him was that the snubs were wasted. Where otherswould have retired crestfallen, the Honourable John held his head highand heeded not. 

We were prepared to find that the forty-second cousinship was a fiction, and that the captain would quietly ignore him; but we were in thebackground, and it mattered very little to us; the deck would be aswelcome as the bridge. 

"Well, cousin cap. , " said John familiarly, placing his hand upon the wetmahogany rail, "and how are you?"

"Hallo!" exclaimed the captain, facing round. "Where have you tumbledfrom?"

"Hughtown, St. Mary's, was the last bit of mother earth I touched beforeI sprang aboard the _Queen of Paddlers_. May we venture within yourprivate domain?"

"Why, certainly, John, " and he lifted the rail and beckoned us forward. 

"Two chums of mine, " said John, naming us, and then he named the captainas his respected cousin forty-two times removed. The captain smiled athim, shook his head, and observed that the relationship was a littlecloser than that, but a puzzle, nevertheless, to work out exactly. 

"I must have missed you when you came aboard, " said he, "and yet in yourusual get-up I don't see how I could very well. You look as if you hadjust stepped out of a band-box, except for the dampness, of course. "

"Oh, you were busy when I joined you, " said John, evidently pleased withthe captain's remarks about his appearance. "I had to jump for it. Butyou haven't answered my question. How are you?"

"Tol'able, thank'e. And your folks--how are they? I need not ask how_you_ are, " and, while John answered him, he placed camp-stools for us, and said to Syd and me, "Sit down, gentlemen; and excuse me if I addressmyself mainly to this eccentric cousin of mine, and, I am sure, yourvery good friend. I do not see him often, and he never will let me knowwhen he is coming my way"--a statement which Syd and I could easilybelieve. For, with all John's faults, and he had many of them, he wasone of the least obtrusive of men where hospitality came in, and one ofthe most reticent about himself and his own affairs; and we, who workedwith him, knew him almost exclusively as a good fellow in thedepartment, and a capital companion for a holiday. 

The captain placed John's camp-stool on the starboard side of thebinnacle. Their conversation was broken into snatches by the captain'smovements. As he paced the bridge, backwards and forwards, he haltedeach time just for a moment when he came to where John had propped hisback against the binnacle and tilted his stool at an angle thatthreatened collapse. Syd and I sat quite apart, and left them alone totheir semi-private conversation. We noticed, however, that the captainappeared to be uneasy about the vessel's course and progress; he glancedmore than once at the compass-card, and several times, in hisperambulations, he lingered over the paddle-boxes, and intently watchedthe water as it slipped by. So that his conversation with the HonourableJohn became more fragmentary, and was more frequently interrupted thenearer we approached the land. 

After some time the captain came to a sudden stand over the portpaddle-box, and curved his left hand round his ear. For a minute or morehe stood like a statue, perfectly motionless, and with his whole beingabsorbed in an effort to catch a faint and expected sound across thewater. Satisfied with the effort, he stepped briskly to the indicator, and signalled to the engineer to increase the speed of the steamer. 

"What is it, cap. ?" asked John. 

"The bell on the Runnel Stone, " he replied. "Cannot you hear it?"

The captain's statuesque figure, intently listening, had been observedby the passengers, and there was a dead silence aboard, broken only bythe thumping of the engines and the splash of the paddle-blades as theypounded the still waters. Presently the dreary clang of the bell, struck by the clapper as the sea rocked it, came to us in uncertain andfitful tones. It was a melancholy sound, but its effect was cheering, because it gave the people some idea of our whereabouts, and was anindication that we had crossed the intervening space between the islandsand the mainland. We were making fair progress despite the fog, andshould soon be ashore again. 

A babble of talk began and ran the round of the passengers, breaking outamong a group of younger people into a ripple of laughter. For a quarterof an hour this went on, then, to the amazement of all on board, thecaptain, after glancing anxiously at the compass-card, sternly calledout "Silence!" Meanwhile the sound of the bell had become clearer, butwas now growing less distinct; and, as the captain's order was instantlyobeyed, we became aware of another sound--the breaking of the waves uponthe shore. 

For a moment the captain listened, straining his eyes at the same timeto pierce the dense mist ahead; the man on the look-out, perched in thebows, who had been leaning forward with his hand shading his eyes, turned about with a startled gesture, throwing his arms aloft, andshouted to the captain that we were close in shore, and heading for itdirectly; the captain sprang to the indicator, and signalled for thereversal of the engines; but it was too late. With a thud that threw usall forward the steamer grounded. 

Instantly all was confusion. Some lost their heads, and began to rushabout wildly. A few screamed. Nearly every one became visibly paler. Sydand I started from our seats, and gazed bewilderedly at an expanse ofyellow sand softly revealed beneath the mist, and stretching ahead andon either hand into the white moisture by which we were encompassed. John walked over to us apparently unmoved. 

"Well, this is a go, " said he. 

Before we could reply, the captain bawled out his orders that all thepassengers must retire to the after-part of the ship, and help, so faras their collected weight might do so, to raise the bows now sunk in thesoft sand. He assured them that there was not the slightest danger; thevessel was uninjured; we were ashore on a yielding and shelving beach;and that, if they would remain perfectly quiet, and obey orders, he hadsome hope that he might get the vessel afloat again. 

There was a general move aft, and although signs of distress, and evenof terror, were not wanting on some faces, the people gathered quietlyenough into one solid mass. We three stood on the outer edge of thecompany. Syd and I were considerably excited, but John was as calm as aman could be. With tremendous uproar the reversed paddles began to churnthe shallow water, but not an inch did we move. 

The captain stepped to the binnacle, and read the compass-card. A swiftchange passed over his face; in mingled surprise and anger he pointedwithin the binnacle, and began to question the man at the wheel; but hewas more surprised than the captain--so utterly amazed, in fact, that hecould not be angry, and only protested that he had kept the vessel trueto the course which had been given him, and could not explain why thecard had veered three to four points farther westward since the vesselhad touched the ground. It was no use contending about the matter then. The paddles began to throw up the sand as well as the water, and thecaptain saw that the vessel would have to remain where she was until thenext tide. 

"We are fast, sure 'nough, " sang out the captain. "You had better gatheryour traps together, and prepare to leave the vessel. There will beconveyances in the villages to take you to Penzance. "

The company dispersed and scattered about the boat, merrily collectingtheir belongings now that they knew the worst, and that the worst wasnot very bad after all. We rejoined the captain. 

"What's the name of this new port of discharge?" asked John. 

"Not port, but Porth, " answered the captain grimly, for it was nolaughing matter to him. "Porth Curnow. And you may thank your stars thatwe have run clear in upon the sand, and not a few furlongs south ornorth, for then we should have been laid up either under Tol-Pedn orbeneath the Logan Rock. "

"I can follow your location admirably, cap. , " said John. "We are eightor nine miles from Penzance--is not that so? Yes!" as the captainnodded gloomily; "and Porth Curnow is the place where the submarinetelegraph chaps live. But, I say, why did you bring us here? We bookedfor Penzance. "

"Goodness knows--I don't. Something's gone wrong with the compass. Wewere on the right course, and the compass was true until we grounded;then it swerved most unaccountably nearly four points to the westward, and there it remains. "

"That's a curious freak, cap. You'll be interviewed by all thescientific folk in the kingdom, and I shouldn't wonder if you are notsummoned to appear, and give evidence, before a select committee of theRoyal Society. Four points out! Why, man, you're immortalised. I call ita most lucky deflection. "

"Do you? I don't, " growled the captain. "Others are welcome to theimmortality. I prefer to do without, and steer by a compass that's true. And it _has_ been true up to now. "

"That's where it comes in, " exclaimed John. "That's what makes itremarkable. If the compass _hadn't_ been true, you would have gainednothing by this little adventure; but, as you say, it _has_ been true, therefore---- Oh! dear, it takes a lot to satisfy some people. And youcannot account for it? Do you think the telegraph station has hadanything to do with it--electricity, you know? Electricity is a queerthing, and plays pranks sometimes. No! Well, perhaps the hills aremagnetic. "

"Come, John, you're losing your head; and I have these people to seeto, " remarked the captain somewhat tartly. 

"I believe I am, " said John. "It's a habit I have, but I generally findit again. Well, cap. , if you require any assistance in the unloading ofthe cargo, say the word, and here I am, your cousin to command"; and thecaptain was obliged to smile, notwithstanding the disaster--an effectwhich John had been trying for all the while. 

"Your suggestion about the telegraph station has put a practical ideainto my brain, and I am thankful for that, John. I'll sound the syren, and bring the fellows down. They'll be willing to help in a mess likethis, anyhow; and, if there are not enough conveyances to run the peopledown to Penzance, they can wire for a few to fetch them"; and, pullingthe cord, he sent the shriek of the syren through the mist in resoundingand ear-splitting tones. 

By this time, the passengers had all pressed forward into the bows, withthe easily transferable part of their luggage about them. The water hadreceded, and left the bows clear; but it was too long a drop into thewet sand for any one to venture down without assistance. The ladiesespecially were looking wistfully over the bulwarks. We three wentforward also, but we left our portmanteaux to take care of themselves. 

Soon two young fellows dashed down the sands, halloing in answer to thesyren, and stood with wondering eyes beneath the bows. 

"Who are you?" shouted one of them. 

"Scilly people, " piped a shrill female voice from our midst. 

"That we are--very, " said John drily; at which, notwithstanding ourplight, there was a general laugh. 

The two were speedily increased to half a dozen, and these were joinedby quite a group of farm-servants and villagers, attracted by theunwonted sound of a syren floating across their fields. Some of thelatter, scenting substantial gain, ran off to harness their horses tosuch conveyances as they could command in readiness for the drive toPenzance, while the rest remained, having also a view to the needful, toact as porters and guides. 

One of the men, by the captain's orders, came forward with arope-ladder, fastened one end securely within the bulwarks, and threwthe other over the side. It hung about four feet from the ground. Immediately the passengers swarmed about the head of the ladder, and, although there was no real danger, pushed and jostled each other in theattempt to secure an early descent. A few thoughtless young fellows wereclaiming the first chance when the Honourable John interfered. 

"Here, " said he, "ladies first, and one at a time, " and he shoulderedthe too eager males aside. He took off his hat, turned to the crowdbelow, and, picking out a telegraph clerk, said, "Catch my tile, willyou? And, mind, don't sit on it! It may collapse. Thank you!" as the mancaught it cleverly, and smiled at the instructions. Then he slipped outof his frock-coat, and flung it aside; undid his cuff-links, and rolledup his sleeves; bowed to the nearest woman of the party, who happened tobe a stout Scillonian in a peasant's dress, and said, "Ready! Allow me, madam. " As he helped her to the top of the bulwarks, and down the rungs, he sang out, "Below there! Steady this lady down, and help her to theground. "

Syd and I handed up the other ladies, and the Honourable John, balancedupon the bulwarks, gallantly helped them down the ladder as far as hisarms would reach, where they were taken in charge by the telegraphclerks, and landed upon the wet sand. The captain watched theproceedings from the bridge with an amused expression. Before long allthe ladies were disposed of, and we left the men to scramble down asbest they could. John picked up his coat, and I held it by the collarwhile he slipped his arms through the arm-holes and drew it on. 

When he flung the coat aside I noticed a peculiarity of the collar as itfell and lay upon the ground. While the waist and all the lower part waslimp, the collar preserved an unnatural stiffness--a stiffness thatextended to the breast; this part stood up as if within it there weresome invisible form. Several times as I turned to assist the lady whoseturn came next I noticed this peculiarity; and when I held the collar tohelp the Honourable John into this fashionable frock-coat, there was ahardness about it which made me wonder whether his tailor had stitchedinto it several strips of buckram, or cleverly inserted beneath thecollar, and down the breast, a piece of flexible whalebone. Whatever itwas that gave this part of his coat its rigidity, I dismissed it from mymind with the thought that the Honourable John was a greater fop thaneither Syd or I supposed. 

Bareheaded he went to bid his cousin good-bye. We also shook thecaptain's hand, and expressed our regret, with John, at the misfortunewhich had befallen him because of the deflection of the compass. We werethe last to leave by the rope-ladder, handing down our portmanteauxbefore we descended ourselves; and the captain waved his hand to us fromthe bows before we vanished into the mist. The heavy luggage would haveto wait until the steamer floated off with the next tide, and made herway round to Penzance; but negotiations had begun before we left for theconveyance of the mails in time to catch the up train, by which we alsointended travelling to London. 

John recovered his hat, and we pushed through the yielding shell beach, preceded by our improvised porters, to the broken ramparts of TrerynDinas; these we climbed, and made our way across the fields to thevillage of Treryn; and here we hired a trap, which ran us into Penzancein time to discuss a good dinner before we started on our journey byrail. 

We were well on the way to Plymouth, and I was reading a newspaper ofthe day before, when a curious paragraph caught my eye. 

"Listen to this!" said I to the other two, and I read: "'It hasfrequently happened that ships have got out of their course at sea bysome unaccountable means, and a warning just issued by the Admiralty mayperhaps have some bearing on the matter. Their Lordships say that theirattention has been called to the practice of seamen wearing steelstretchers in their caps, and to the danger which may result from thesestretchers becoming strongly magnetised, and being worn by men close tothe ship's compasses. Instances have been reported of compasses beingconsiderably deflected in this manner, and their Lordships have nowdirected that the use of steel stretchers in caps is to be immediatelydiscontinued. ' I wonder if the deflection of the compass of the _Queenof the Isles_ can be explained in a similar way. Possibly the helmsmanmay have been wearing one of these stretchers. "

"Whew!" exclaimed the Honourable John, giving his knee a tremendousslap. "I have it. I must write to my cousin. It is my fault--my fault, entirely. But I never thought of it. "

"Thought of what?" asked Syd. 

"What do you mean?" inquired I. 

"This----" and the Honourable John for once exhibited a rueful face. "You saw where the cap. Placed me; and how I tilted my stool and leanedagainst the binnacle. Well, look here!" and he folded back the lappetsof his coat, and showed us a narrow band of flat spring steel thatpassed under his collar and down either side to keep it from creasingand to help it to fit closely to his body. "That patent thing has donethe mischief, without a doubt. Oh, what a fool I am! I might have sentthe whole ship-load of us to Davy Jones. I'll forswear this fashionabletoggery henceforth when I'm away on holiday, and follow the innocentexample of sensible chaps like you. "

We made no comment, but we both observed that our companion wassingularly quiet all the way from Plymouth to London. 

XIV

IN PERIL IN AFRICA

The attempt to open up new countries, the natives of which object to theprocess, naturally leads to adventures, often of a very dangerous kind. Nevertheless, explorers and traders take their lives in their hands, considering the possible results well worth the risk. 

So does the missionary. In place of worldly fame and wealth, his effortsare likely to bring him suffering and death; but, while facing these, hemay spread the faith which is dearer to him than life; he may bring thenews of the love of God, with its uplifting power, to those who, sunk inignorance and degradation, tremble before idols; and he, too, feels thatpersonal dangers are not worth weighing in comparison with the gloriouscause in which they are dared. As Bishop Hannington said just beforegoing out as a missionary--

"If I lose my life in Africa, no one must think it has been wasted. Thelives that have been already given for the cause are not lost. They are_filling up the trench so that others may the more easily pass over totake the fort in the name of the Lord_!"

That is the spirit in which he went out and in turn laid down hislife--helping to fill the trench to such good purpose that his own son, in after years, baptised the son of his murderer! Hannington's life inAfrica was a constant succession of dangers faced, difficultiesovercome, and hardships endured, all of which his intense faith, and hisgift of humour, enabled him to go through cheerfully. 

He was a keen sportsman, ever eager to add to his collection of rarecreatures, and his letters home give vivid account of some of hisadventures. On one or two occasions he had narrow escapes from death--

"This part of the country abounds with game. On one occasion a herd ofantelopes crossed the path as tamely as if they had been sheep, andtracks of giraffe and larger game were frequently seen. Guinea-fowl wereso plentiful that one of the white men at Mpwapwa told us that he didnot trouble to fire at them unless he could ensure killing two or threeat a shot. 

"I had two narrow escapes in one of my walks with a gun in search ofgame. I came to a belt of jungle so dense that the only way to getthrough it was to creep on all fours along the tracks made by hyenas andsmaller game; and as I was crawling along I saw close in front of me adeadly puff-adder; in another second I should have been on it. 

"The same day, on my return, I espied in one of these same tracks apeculiar arrangement of grass, which I at once recognised to be over apitfall; but though I had seen it I had already gone too far, and fellwith a tremendous crash, my double-barrel gun full-cocked in my hand. Ihad the presence of mind to let myself go and look out only for my gun, which fortunately did not explode. On arriving at the bottom I calledout to my terrified boy, 'Mikuke Hapana, ' 'There are no spears, ' a mostmerciful providence; for they often stake these pitfalls in order toensure the death of animals that fall into them. The pitfall could nothave been less than ten feet deep, for when I proceeded to extricatemyself I found that I could not reach the top with my uplifted hands. 

"Undaunted by my adventures, and urged on by the monotony of nothing buttough goat on the sideboard, I started before the break of next morningin pursuit of game, and was soon to be seen crawling on hands and kneesafter antelope, I am afraid unmindful of puff-adders and pitfalls. 

"By and by the path followed the bed of a narrow stream, which wascompletely ploughed with the tracks of buffalo and giraffe, as fresh asfresh could be. Our impression was, and probably it was right, that theformer were lurking in the dense thicket close by. The breathlessexcitement that such a position keeps you in does much to help along theweary miles of the march, and to ward off attacks of fever. Allexperienced hands out here recommend that men should, while not losingsight of their one grand object, keep themselves amused. 

"Your cousin Gordon and I, with our boys, had led the van all themorning. He, having lately had fever, complained of being tired, andbegged me to continue in pursuit of game alone, merely taking my onefaithful boy with me to carry my gun; but I refused to leave him, fornever had I complained of an ache or pain but what he was at my side tohelp and comfort me. We sat down and rested, and the other brethren, with a party of a dozen or fourteen, marched on ahead. They had not gonemany hundred yards before I heard the whiz of a bullet. 'They have foundgame, ' said I. Bang went a second shot. 'It's a herd. ' Then another. 'Yes, it must be a herd. ' Then a fourth, and it dawned on me that theywere attacked by robbers--the far-famed Ruga-Ruga. 

"'Stay where' you are, ' I cried, and dashed off, closely followed by myboys. The bangs had now reached seven, and we had not the slightestdoubt it was an attack of robbers, and so it proved to be. My anxietywas relieved by seeing our men all intact, standing together at bay witha foe that was nowhere to be beheld. I soon learnt that as they werequietly proceeding a party of the savage Wahumba tribe had swooped downupon them; but seeing white men with rifles had fled with the utmostprecipitation, without even discharging a poisoned arrow. To make theirflight more rapid the white men had fired their rifles in the air; andone in grabbing his gun from his boy had managed to discharge it insuch a manner as to blow off the sight of his neighbour's rifle. Findingthat danger was at an end for the time being, I begged them to remain asthey were, ready to receive an attack, while I returned with my boys toGordon, and got the stragglers together, after which we all proceeded ina body. I have always thought that it was I who had the greatest escapeof all; for had I gone on, as Gordon proposed, with only one, or at theoutside two boys, I should most probably have been attacked. "

A little later the Bishop had an even narrower escape from ajustly-enraged lion and lioness--

"Presently, while hunting for insects in short mimosa tangle up to theknee, I disturbed a strange-looking animal, about the size of a sheep, brownish colour, long tail, short legs, feline in aspect and movement, but quite strange to me. I took my gun and shot it dead--yes, quitedead. Away tore my boy as fast as his legs would carry him, terrifiedbeyond measure at what I had done! What, indeed? you may well ask. I hadkilled the cub of a lioness! Terror was written on every line andfeature of the lad, and dank beads of perspiration stood on his face. Isaw it as he passed me in his flight, and his fear for the momentcommunicated itself to me. I turned to flee, and had gone a few paces, when I heard a savage growl, and a tremendous lioness--I say advisedly atremendous one--bounded straight at me. 

"In spite of the loaded gun in my hand, it seemed to me that I waslost. The boy knew more about lions than I did, and his fear knew nobounds. I began to realise that I was in a dangerous situation, for alioness robbed of her whelp is not the most gentle creature to dealwith. I retreated hastily. No; I will out with it, children, in plainlanguage--I ran five or six steps; every step she gained upon me, andthe growls grew fiercer and louder. Do I say _she_ gained?--_they_gained, for the lion was close behind her, and both were making straightfor me. They will pause at the dead cub? No; they take no notice of it;they come at me. What is to be done?

"It now struck me that retreat was altogether wrong. Like a cat with amouse, it induced them to follow. Escape in this manner was impossible. I halted, and just at that moment came a parting yell from my boy, 'Hakuna! Kimbia!'

"I thought he had seen and heard the lion and lioness, and that, speaking as he does bad Kiswahili, he had said, 'Kakuna Kimbia!' whichmight be roughly, though wrongly, translated, 'Don't run away!' insteadof which he meant to say--in fact, did say--'No! Run away!'

"I have no hesitation in saying that a stop wrongly read but rightlymade saved my life. I had in the second or two that had elapseddetermined to face it out; and now, strengthened as I thought by hisadvice, I made a full stop and turned sharply on them. This new policyon my part caused them to check instantly. They now stood lashing theirtails and growling, and displaying unfeigned wrath, but a few paces fromme. 

"I then had time to inspect them. They were a right royal pair of thepale sandy variety, a species which is noted for its fierceness, theknowledge of which by no means made my situation more pleasant. There westood; both parties evidently feeling that there was no direct solutionto the matter in hand. I cannot tell you exactly what passed throughtheir minds, but they evidently thought that it was unsafe to advanceupon this strange and new being, the like of which they had never seenbefore. I cannot tell you either how long a time we stood face to face. Minutes seemed hours, and perhaps the minutes were only seconds; butthis I know, my boy was out of hearing when the drama was concluded. 

"And this is how it ended: After an interval I decided not to fire atthem, but to try instead what a little noise would do. So I suddenlythrew up my arms in the air, and set up a yell, and danced and shoutedlike a madman. Do you know, the lions were so astonished to see yoursober old uncle acting in such a strange way that they both bounded intothe bushes as if they had been shot, and I saw them no more!

"As the coast was now clear I thought I might as well secure my prize, areal little beauty. So I seized it by its hind legs and dragged it asquickly as I could along the ground, the bushes quite keeping it out ofsight. When I had gone what I had deemed a sufficient distance I took itup and swung it over my back, and beat a hasty retreat, keeping a sharpeye open in case the parents should lay claim to the body, for I shouldnot have been dishonest enough not to let them have it had they reallycome to ask for it!

"I soon found the cub was heavier than I bargained for, being about thesize of a South Down sheep, so I shouted for my boy. It was a long time, however, before I could make him hear. I began to be afraid I mustabandon my spoil. At length I saw him in the far distance. Fortunatelyfor me he did not know his way back to the camp, otherwise his intentionwas to return to the camp, and ask the men to come and look for myremains. 

"The arrival of the cub caused a tremendous sensation among the natives;dozens of men came to see it, nor would they believe until they had seenthe skin that I had dared to kill a 'child of the lioness, ' it beingmore dangerous than killing a lion itself. I do not think that I waswise in shooting; but the fact was it was done, and I was in the scrapebefore I knew where I was, and having got into trouble, of course thequestion then was how best to get out of it. "

"In some of the places I passed through they had never seen a white manbefore. They would gather round me in dozens, and gaze upon me in theutmost astonishment. One would suggest that I was not beautiful--inplainer language, that I was amazingly ugly. Fancy a set of hideoussavages regarding a white man, regarding your uncle, as a strangeoutlandish creature frightful to behold. You little boys that run aftera black man in the park and laugh at him, think what you may come towhen you grow old! The tables may be turned on you if you take totravelling, just as they were with me. 

"As with other travellers, my boots hardly ever failed to attractattention. 

"'Are those your feet, white man?'

"'No, gentlemen, they are not. They are my sandals. '

"'But do they grow to your feet?'

"'No, gentlemen, they do not, I will show you. '

"So forthwith I would proceed to unlace a boot. A roar of astonishmentfollowed when they beheld my blue sock, as they generally surmised thatmy feet were blue and toeless. Greater astonishment still followed thewithdrawal of the sock, and the revelation of a white five-toed foot. Ifrequently found that they considered that only the visible parts of mewere white, namely, my face and hands, and that the rest of me was asblack as they were. An almost endless source of amusement was theimmense amount of clothing, according to their calculation, that Ipossessed. That I should have waistcoat and shirt and jersey underneatha coat, seemed almost incredible, and the more so when I told them thatit was chiefly on account of the sun I wore so much. 

"My watch, too, was an unfailing attraction: 'There's a man in it, ' 'Itis Lubari; it is witch-craft, ' they would cry. ' He talks; he says, Teek, teek, teek, ' My nose they would compare to a spear; it struck them as sosharp and thin compared to the African production, and ofttimes onebolder than the rest would give my hair and my beard a sharp pull, imagining them to be wigs worn for ornament. Many of them had a potenthorror for this white ghost, and a snap of the fingers or a stamp of thefoot was enough to send them flying helter-skelter from my tent, whichthey generally crowded round in ranks five deep. For once in a way thiswas amusing enough; but when it came to be repeated every day and allday, one had really a little too much of a good thing. "

Of the discomforts of an African march the Bishop made light, his senseof humour often enabling him to enjoy a good laugh at occurrences whichwould have irritated some men almost beyond endurance. Of some of thehardships, however, his letters and diary give glimpses--

"Our first experience in this region was not a pleasant one. We had sentour men on before while we dallied with our friends at Mpwapwa. When wereached the summit of the pass we could see various villages with theirfires in the plains below, but nowhere was the camp to be discerned. Itwas a weary time before we could alight on it, and when we did, what ascene presented itself to our gaze!

"The wind was so high that the camp fires were extinguished, and the menhad betaken themselves to a deep trench cut through the sandy plain bya mountain torrent, but now perfectly dry; hence our difficulty inmaking out where the camp was. Two of the tents were in a prostratecondition, while the others were fast getting adrift. Volumes of dustwere swamping beds, blankets, boxes, buckets, and in fact everything;and a more miserable scene could scarcely be beheld by a party ofbenighted pilgrims. It was no use staring at it. I seized a hammer andtent pegs, forgot I was tired, and before very long had things fairly torights; but I slept that night in a dust-heap. 

"Nor did the morning mend matters, and to encourage us the Mpwapwabrethren prophesied this state of things all through Ugogo. It is badenough in a hot climate to have dust in your hair and down your neck, and filling your boxes; but when it comes to food, and every mouthfulyou take grates your teeth, I leave you to imagine the pleasure oftent-life in a sandy plain. 

"A day or two after this we arrived at a camp where the water wasexcessively bad. We had to draw it for everybody from one deep hole, andprobably rats, mice, lizards, and other small animals had fallen in andbeen drowned, and allowed to remain and putrefy. The water smelt mostdreadfully, no filtering or boiling seemed to have any effect upon it, and soup, coffee, and all food were flavoured by it. 

"That afternoon I went for a stroll with my boy and two guns toendeavour to supply the table with a little better meat than tough goat. I soon struck on the dry bed of a masika (wet season) torrent. Following this up a little way I saw a fine troop of monkeys, andwanting the skin of one of them for my collection I sent a bullet flyingamongst them, without, however, producing any effect beyond a tremendousscamper. My boy then said to me, 'If you want to kill monkey, master, you should try buck-shot'; so returning him my rifle I took myfowling-piece. 

"Perhaps it was fortunate I did so, for about a hundred yards farther onthe river bed took a sharp turn, and coming round the corner I lightedon three fine tawny lions. They were quite close to me, and had I had myrifle my first impulse might have been too strong for me to resistspeeding the parting guest with a bullet. As it was, I came to a suddenhalt, and they ran away. In vain my boy begged me to retreat. I seizedthe rifle and ran after them as fast as my legs would carry me; but theywere soon hid in the dense jungle that lines the river banks; andalthough I could hear one growling and breathing hard about ten yardsfrom me, I could not get a shot. "

Like Moses of old, Bishop Hannington did not enter the land he had comeso far to reach. The people of Uganda were alarmed and angry at hisapproaching their country from the north-east, which they called theback door to their land. Worn out with fever he was seized, draggedbackwards over stony ground, and kept a prisoner for some days. OnOctober 29, 1885, he was conducted to an open space outside the villageand placed among his followers, having been falsely told on the previousday that King Mwanga had sent word that the party was to be allowed toproceed. 

But he was soon undeceived. With a wild shout the savage warriors fellupon the Bishop's enfeebled followers, and their flashing spearsspeedily covered the ground with dead and dying. As the natives told offto murder him closed round, Hannington drew himself up and bade themtell the king that he was about to die for the people of Uganda, andthat he had purchased the road to their country with his life. Then asthey still hesitated he pointed to his own gun, which one of them firedand Hannington fell dead. 

His last words to his friends--scribbled by the light of somecamp-fire--were--

"If this is the last chapter of my earthly history, then the next willbe the first page of the heavenly--no blots and smudges, no incoherence, but sweet converse in the presence of the Lamb!"

XV

KEEPING THE TRYST

Maharaj was a very big elephant and Alec was a half-grown boy--aninsignificant human pigmy--in spite of which disparity they were greatpals, for Alec admired that mountain of strength as only an imaginativeboy can, and elephants can appreciate admiration. 

When Alec came across Maharaj he had taken up his quarters temporarilyin the mango tope opposite the bungalow. He was pouring dust upon hishead and blowing it over his back, both because he enjoyed a dust bathand because it helped to keep off the flies. With the quick perceptionof a boy, Alec noticed he had used up all the dust within reach, so hegot him a few hatfuls from the roadside, for which he was very grateful, and immediately sent a sand blast over his back that annihilated quite acolony of mosquitoes. Then he admitted Alec to his friendship, and theybecame pals. 

Hard by the mahout was cooking his dinner under a tamarind-tree. 

"Did the Sahib ask if he was clever? Wait, and the Sahib shall see. Hereare his six chapaties of flour that I am baking. Out of one only Ishall keep back a handful of meal. How should he detect so small aquantity missing? But we shall see. "

The elephant driver put on the cakes to bake--pancake-shaped things, eighteen inches across and an inch thick. They took their time to cook, for the fireplace was small, being only three bricks standing on theground. When they were ready he placed the cakes before Maharaj, whoeyed them suspiciously. 

"He has been listening, " explained the driver. "Those big ears of hiscan hear talk a mile away. Go on, my son, eat. What is there wrong withthe food?"

Maharaj slowly took up a chapatie in his trunk, carefully weighed it andput it on one side, took up another and did the same. The fourthchapatie was the light one; this he found out at once and indignantlythrew it at the feet of the mahout, grumbling and gurgling and swinginghis head from side to side and stamping his forefoot in anger. 

"What! son of a pig! is not the flour I eat good enough for thee also?Well, starve then, for there is no better in the bazaar. "

They walked away; the small restless eyes followed anxiously; yet theelephant made no attempt to eat, but swung angrily from side to side inhis pickets. Presently they returned, but he had not touched a chapatie. 

"It is no use, Sahib, " said the mahout, "to try and cheat one so wise ashe, and yet folks say that we mahouts keep our families on theelephants' food, which words are base lies, for is he not more preciousto me than many children?"

Then the mahout drew out an extra chapatie he had hidden in his clothes. 

"Oh! Maharajah, King of Kings, who can deceive thee, my pearl of wisdom, my mountain of might?" and the mahout caressed the huge trunk as itwound itself lovingly around him and gently extracted the chapatie fromhis hands. Having swallowed this, the elephant picked up the scatteredcakes and, piling them up before him, gave himself up to enjoying hismidday meal. 

After that Maharaj and Alec grew great friends. Alec used to bring himbazaar sweets, of which he was very fond, and sugar-cane. He was a greatwonder to the elephant, who could never understand why his pockets werefull of all sorts of uneatable things. He loved to go through them, slowly considering each in his elephantine way. The bright metal handleof Alec's pocket-knife pleased Maharaj, and it was always the firstthing he abstracted from the pocket and the last he returned, but thebits of string and the ball of wax he worried over. The key of thepigeon-house, a peg-top, marbles, etc. , I believe made him long to havepockets of his own, for he used to hide them away in the recesses of hismouth for a time, then, finding they were not very comfortable, he usedto put them all back into Alec's pockets. The day the boy came withsweets Maharaj was delighted, for he smelt them a long way off, andnever made a mistake as to which pocket they were in. 

It was wonderful to see how gently he could play with the little brownbaby of the mahout. He loved to have it lying between his greatfore-feet, and would tickle it with the tip of his trunk for thepleasure of hearing it laugh, then pour dust upon it till it was buried, always being careful not to cover the face. But like a great big selfishchild he always kept his sweets to himself, and would pretend not to seethe little outstretched hand, and little voice crying for them, till hehad finished the last tit-bit. 

Tippoo--the cook's son, Alec's fag and constant companion, who wasmostly a pair of huge pyjamas, was also admitted to the friendship ofMaharaj. But there was one man that the elephant disliked, and that wasthe mahout's nephew, one Piroo, who was a young elephant-driver seekinga situation--a man not likely to be successful, for he was morose andlazy, and drank heavily whenever the opportunity came his way, and wasvery cruel to the beast he rode. 

Sometimes the mahout would take Alec down to the river-side, he driving, while Alec lay luxuriously on the pad. There Maharaj had his bath, andthe boy used to help the mahout to rub him over with a lump of jhama, which is something like pumice-stone, only much harder and rougher, andthe old skin rolled off under the friction in astonishing quantities, till the look of dried tree-bark was gone, and the dusty grey had becomea shining black. After the bath there was usually a struggle withMaharaj, who, directly he was clean, wanted to plaster himself all overwith wet mud to keep cool and defy mosquitoes. This he was not allowedto do, so he tore a branch from a neem-tree instead, and fanned himselfall the way home. 

Now there was to be a marriage among some of the mahout's friends wholived in a village a day's journey from the station, across the river, and he promised that Alec, Tippoo, and his nephew were to accompany him. When the day came the mahout had a slight touch of fever and couldn'tgo, but he told his nephew to drive the boys there instead. Maharajdidn't like Piroo at all, and made a fuss at having to go without themahout, for which he got a hot scolding. Then there were tears and petnames and much coaxing before Maharaj consented to go. 

"Thou art indeed nothing but a great child that will go nowhere unless Ilead thee by the hand, with no more heart in thy big carcase than mybabe, who without doubt shall grow big and thrash thee soundly. Nowhearken, my son, thou art going with Piroo to the village of Charhunse, one day's journey; thou art to stay there one day, when there will begreat feasting, and they will give thee surap wine in thy food; and onthe day following thou must return (for we start the next morning forthe Cawnpore elephant lines); bring the boys back safely--verysafely--or there will be very many angry words from me, and no food. Now, adieu, my son, salaam Sahib, Khoda bunah rhukha" (God preserveyou). And the mahout passed into his hut with a shiver that told of thecoming ague. 

It was a grand day and the road was full of people of all sorts andconditions; and the boys, proud to be so high above the heads of thepassing groups, greeted them with all the badinage of the bazaar theycould remember, which the natives answered with good-natured chaff. Theroad was one long avenue, and in the branches overhead the monkeyssported and chased each other from tree to tree; birds sang, for it wasnesting-time; and the day was as happy as it was long. 

At nightfall they reached the village, and the head man made them verycomfortable. The next day the wedding feast was spread, and quite twohundred people sat down to it. After the feast there was racing, wrestling, and dancing to amuse the guests. 

They enjoyed themselves very much. The wedding feast was to last severaldays, and instead of returning the following day as they had promisedthe mahout, Piroo determined to stay a day longer, in spite of all thatAlec had to say against it. 

Piroo was in his element, and sang and danced with great success, forthe arrack was in his veins, and at such times he could be the antipodesof his morose self. His dancing was much applauded. But there wasBhuggoo, the sweeper, from the city, who had a reputation for dancing, and was in great request at weddings in consequence, and he dancedagainst Piroo, and so elegant and ingenious were his contortions that hewas voted the better. Then he changed his dance to one in which hecaricatured Piroo so cleverly in every turn and gesture that the peopleyelled and laughed. 

This so incensed Piroo that he struck the man; but the sweeper, who wasgenerally accustomed to winding up his performance by a grand broomfight with some brother of the same craft, was quite ready for an affairthat could only increase his popularity. Catching up his jharroo, orbroom, he began to shower blows upon the unfortunate Piroo, yet neverceasing to dance round him so grotesquely that the fight was too much ofa farce for any one to think of interfering. Yet the blows went homepretty hard, and as the broom was a sort of besom made of the springyribs of the palm-leaf it stung sharply where it found the naked flesh. 

It is a great indignity to be beaten by the broom of a sweeper, andPiroo, maddened with rage, flew at the throat of his rival. But Bhuggoo, the sweeper, was very nimble, and as the end of a jharroo in the facefeels like the back of a porcupine, you may guess it is the mosteffective way of stopping a rush. So Piroo, baffled and humiliated, leftthe sweeper victor of the field and fled amid great shouts of laughter. But his rage had not died in him, and more arrack made him mad; elsewhy should he have done the foolish thing that followed?

Finding Maharaj had pulled up one of his picket pins, he took a heavypiece of firewood and dashed it upon his tender toe-nails, while heshouted all the abuse that elephants know only accompanies severepunishment. Now Maharaj, who would take punishment quietly from Buldeo, the old mahout, would not stand it from any other; besides, he wasalready excited with all the shouting and tamasha going on, and he hadhad a good bit of arrack in his cakes that evening; so when the logcrashed down on his feet he trumpeted with pain, and, seizing Piroo inhis trunk, lifted him on high, preparatory to dashing him to earth andstamping his life out. 

[Illustration: SEIZING PIROO IN HIS TRUNK, HE LIFTED HIM ON HIGH. ]

But fortune was in favour of Piroo for a time, and the big cummerbund hewore had got loose with dancing, so it came undone, and Piroo slippeddown its length to the ground, while Maharaj was left holding the loosecloth in his trunk. 

Then Piroo fled for his life, and ran into a grass-thatched hut thatstood close by; but the elephant, pulling out his picket pins like acouple of toothpicks, reached the hut in a stride, and, putting histrunk through the thatch as if it had been a sheet of paper, felt roundfor the man inside and, seizing him, dragged him forth. The peopleyelled, and some came running with fire-brands to scare him, but beforeany could reach him Maharaj had knocked one of his great fore-feetagainst the head of the unfortunate Piroo, and he fell to the groundlifeless. 

The villagers were terror-stricken and ran to hide in their huts. Tippoo, who was nearest the elephant, ran also, and Alec was about torun when he saw Maharaj single out Tippoo and chase him. The boy fled, and his flying feet hardly seemed to touch the earth, but Maharaj withlong swinging strides covered the ground much faster, and in a fewmoments there followed a shriek of despair and Tippoo was strugglinghelplessly fifteen feet in the air in the grasp of that terrible trunk. 

"Save me! Sahib, save me!" he shrieked, while Alec looked on powerlessto help. 

Maharaj seemed undecided whether to dash him to pieces or not. Alecseized the opportunity to imitate the driver's voice and cry, "Bring theboys home safely--very safely--my son. " The elephant's great fan-shapedears bent forward to listen, and he lowered Tippoo till he hung swingingat the end of the huge proboscis. Alec felt he dared not repeat thewords, as the elephant would find out the cheat. 

The great beast stood a few minutes thinking, and then, swinging Tippooup, placed him on his neck, and came straight for the tree behind whichAlec was hiding. 

For a moment a wild desire to escape came to the boy, and the next hesaw how hopeless it would be. The sal-tree he had sheltered behind wastoo thick to climb, and the lowest branch was twenty feet from theground. To run would be just madness, for Maharaj would have caught himbefore he could get to the nearest hut. So, taking confidence from thefact that he had not hurt Tippoo, Alec came out from behind the tree andordered Maharaj to take him up. 

He was surprised at the exceeding gentleness with which he did so, butwhen Alec was once seated astride of his neck with Tippoo behind him, hedid not know what to do. He thought he would walk the elephant round thevillage and then tie him up in his pickets again. So he cried, "Chalo!Bata!" (Go on, my son), and tried to guide him with his knees; butMaharaj would not budge an inch, and stood stock still, considering. Then he seemed to have made up his mind, and started forward suddenlywith a lurch that nearly threw the boys off. 

He walked straight to the dead mahout and, carefully gathering him up inhis trunk, wheeled round and set off stationwards. He had remembered hismaster's commands, and the journey to Cawnpore he must commence on themorrow. 

It was about eight o'clock in the evening, and Alec had no desire tostart travelling homeward at that hour. Besides, he had no food withhim, and the pad was not on the back of Maharaj. It is almost impossibleto ride an elephant bare back, and though these were only slips of boysthere wasn't room enough for two to sit comfortably on the neck. Alecdrove his knees into the elephant's head behind the ears and tried toturn him round, shouting, "Dhutt, dhutt, arrea!" (Go back!), but it wasno use; the elephant had made up his mind to go home, and took not theleast notice of the boy's commands. 

The head man of the village ran after them, crying--

"Where are you taking him, Sahib?"

"We take him nowhere, " Alec answered. "He is master to-night, andcarries us home, I believe. "

"But you cannot ride without the pad, Sahib, or the driving-hook, andthere are other things you leave behind. "

"We will stick on his neck till we drop, " he answered (for an elephantis worth many thousand rupees to the Government, and must not get lost). 

"At least command him to drop the dead body before he mangles it, sothat we may burn it with decent ceremony, " was the last request of thehead man. 

But Maharaj would not listen to the command, and made certain noises inhis throat by which he meant Alec to understand that he was going tocarry the dead man home whether he liked it or no. 

The lights of the village were soon lost in the distance, and Maharajstrode into the empty darkness, trailing a picket pin behind him andcarrying that horror in his trunk. 

Till that day Alec had loved Maharaj for his great strength anddocility, his wisdom, and his endearing ways with children, but when hesaw him in anger extinguish the life of a man as easily as one couldpulp a gooseberry in the fingers, the elephant changed at once in hiseyes, and Alec saw in him nothing but the grim executioner of theMoguls, and stamping out lives his daily task. The boy felt the touch ofthe beast almost loathsome, and longed to escape from his situation onits neck. 

Soon the cramped position began to tell, for they were jammed together, and Tippoo felt like a mustard-plaster upon Alec's back. Alec tried tovary the discomfort by lying forward on the head of the elephant, andTippoo tried leaning back as far as he could without being in danger offalling off, but they both felt they could not hold on the eight hoursthat the journey would take. 

By-and-by they noticed that something was making Maharaj restive; twicehe swung his trunk as if trying to drive away that something, afterwhich he quickened his pace, then he turned round once in his tracks andfaced his unseen tormentor. Alec wondered greatly what was worrying him, but he heard and saw nothing in the blackness that reigned. Theelephant's restiveness increased, and again he swung round suddenly andcharged that invisible thing in the dark; again Alec strained both eyesand ears to no avail. The only sound on the air came from the trailingpicket pin. 

"Whatever is worrying Maharaj?" he said anxiously. 

"He sees that which our eyes can't see--an evil thing, " answeredTippoo. 

"What! do you mean the ghost of Piroo?" Alec asked. 

"No, Sahib, " said Tippoo. "It is a churail, an evil spirit that eatsdead men, and it wants the body of Piroo. "

"Nonsense, " Alec replied. 

"It is true, Sahib. Many have seen it at work in the graveyards of theMussulman, but to-night no one may see it but the elephant. "

Alec laughed. Yet, ghoul or not, there was something the huge beastseemed afraid of and hurried to get away from, or attempted to frightenback, without success. 

It was a most weird and uncanny situation, and the boys longed for it toend. 

But a pleasant change was at hand. The heavens were rapidly lighting, and soon the moon commenced to rise on the scene. A feeling of reliefgrew with the strengthening light, for they were sure the ghostly terrorwould disappear with the dark. The moon had partly risen when Tippoosaid, "Look, Sahib, there is the thing. "

Alec looked, and in the uncertain light saw a shadowy something keepingpace with the elephant, but what it was he could not say. 

Then on the other side of the road they saw there was another movingshadow as mysterious as the first. But they were not kept in suspensemuch longer, for the light suddenly brightened, and they saw each weirdshadow transform itself into a number of jackals. The smell of bloodhad attracted the pack, and they had made an attempt to get the deadbody away from Maharaj. The reaction on their strained nerves was sogreat that the boys laughed aloud in pure joy at the sense of relief, and wondered they had not guessed the cause of the elephant'srestlessness before. 

For nearly four hours they had been on that apology for a neck, andtheir limbs were painful and stiff from the discomfort of sitting soclose, when, without any warning, Maharaj came to a stop under a bigneem-tree, and they recognised it as the place at which they had takentheir midday meal going down to the village. Maharaj carefully placedthe body of Piroo on the ground and knelt down beside it, and the boys, only too pleased at the chance, scrambled off as fast as their crampedlegs would permit. It needed some walking up and down to get rid oftheir stiffness, so they chased the jackals and pelted them with stones, which restored their circulation quickly, whilst Maharaj stood sentryover the dead man. 

Tired out and exhausted, the boys were anxious for a little sleep, butthey could not lie under the same tree as that gruesome thing, so theylay down under a neighbouring sal. Alec was on the way to dreamland whenhe felt he was being carried gently in some one's arms. He woke up andfound that Maharaj had lifted him in his trunk and that he was takinghim back to the tree where the dead lay. Here he placed Alec on theground alongside the mahout, on the other side of which was Tippoosnoring peacefully. How he had managed to move the boy without wakinghim was a marvel. As soon as Alec was released he tried to get away, butMaharaj would not allow it, and forced him to lie down again while hestood guard over all three. 

They say boys have no nerves, but even at this distance of time Alecshudders to recollect his sensations on that night of horror caused bythe poor crushed thing he lay shoulder to shoulder with. He feignedsleep and tried to roll a foot or two away, but Maharaj had grownsuspicious, and rolled him back, so that he lay flat on hisshoulder-blades between the forelegs of the elephant, watching therestless swing of the trunk above him. This was better than looking atwhat lay beside him, and he wanted no inducement to keep his gazeaverted. A hyena laughed like an exultant fiend. Great flying foxesslowly flapped across the face of the moon, like Eblis and hissatellites scanning the earth for prey, and the pack of jackals satsilently waiting for the body of the dead. 

Maharaj was very quiet and vigilant, and seemed to understand theseriousness of his crime. The usual gurgling, grunting, and rocking withwhich he amused himself at night were wanting, and though there was alarge field of sugar-cane near by, and he must have been hungry, henever tried to help himself as he would have done on any other occasion. In spite of the feeling of repulsion Alec began to feel a little pityfor the remorseful giant, for it was most probable he would be shot forkilling Piroo, whose drunken madness had brought about his own death. 

But all things have an end, and even that night passed away like thepassing of a strange delirium. About four o'clock Maharaj became veryrestless, thinking it was time to start, and pulled and pushed Tippootill he sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking about in a dazed way. Theelephant went down on his knees, and the boys took advantage of theinvitation and were soon in their places. Then Maharaj slowly picked uphis burden and they recommenced their journey home. The jackals weremuch disappointed, and followed listlessly for a short distance, thenslunk off down a nullah to avoid the light of day. 

A sleepy policeman was the first to notice the dead man in the trunk ofthe elephant. With a yell of alarm he sprang from the footpath where hestood, panting and staring till Maharaj had passed; then some confusednotion that he should make an arrest seemed to occur to him, and he madea few steps forward, but the magnitude of the task made him halt again, dazed and bewildered, and thus they left him. The consternation theycaused in the bazaar is beyond words to describe. It is sufficient tosay that the better part of the population followed Maharaj at a safedistance, looking like some huge procession, wending its way to the hutof the mahout. Maharaj walked slowly to the door of the hut and laidthe corpse down. 

"Hast thou brought them back safely, my son?" cried a fever-strickenvoice from the depths of the hut. 

"Goor-r-r, " said Maharaj in his throat. 

"That is well; but why didst thou not arrive last evening? Didst travelall night? Piroo, thou wilt find his sugar-cane in the shed; give him adouble measure and drive his pickets in under the mango-tree. "

But there was no answer from Piroo, only the frightened whisperings of agreat number of people assembled outside. The old mahout, in alarm, staggered to the door, and saw the body at the feet of Maharaj and thecrimson stains upon the trunk and feet of the elephant. 

"Ahhi! ahhi! ahhi!" cried the old man aloud, "what madness is this? Whathast thou done, my son? Now they will shoot thee without doubt--thy lifefor his, and he was not worth his salt. Ahhi! ahhi!"

Then the old man wept, embracing the trunk of the elephant, which wascoiled round his master, while the people looked on, and the boys, wornand tired by the strain of that awful night, could barely cling to theirseats on the neck of Maharaj. 

Then the mahout, weak as he was, helped them off, and set about washingthe dark red stains away. 

"Ahhi! ahhi!" he sobbed. "I have lost a nephew. I have lost also myson, who will surely be shot by the sirkar for this deed. My Maharaj, mygreatest of kings! What shall I do without thee! I will return to mycountry and drive no more. Ahhi! ahhi!"

But this happily was not to be, for a strange thing happened. The nephewrecovered. Piroo had only been stunned by the blow, and the blood thatcovered his face had come from his nose. He was, after a time, himselfagain, but a wiser man, and Maharaj was not shot after all. Yet the boysdo not like to think of that adventure even to-day. 

XVI

WHO GOES THERE?

The world is but a huge playground, after all; and just as the sympathyof those who witness a fight between two boys--one of whom is a bigfellow and a reputed bully, while the other is a plucky youngster butone-half his opponent's size--invariably goes with the smaller andweaker combatant, so it is even amongst nations. Thus, early in the pastcentury, when the tiny States of Spanish America were keenly strugglingwith the mother-country in their endeavour to cast off the Spanish yoke, practically the whole world wished them the success which eventuallycrowned their efforts. 

It seems ridiculous to call them "tiny" States when the smallest ofthose of which we are treating--the Republics of _Central_America--could find room for all the counties of Wales; while, if wewere able to set down the whole of England upon the largest, we shouldfind not only that it fitted in comfortably, but that the foreign Statewould yet have a goodly slice of land to spare--sufficient, at any rate, to accommodate three or four cities of the size of London. I call themtiny, therefore, solely because they are such when compared with othercountries on the American Continent, such as Canada, the United States, and Brazil. 

During the years 1820 and 1821 a very keen spirit of independence wasmanifested in those regions, and by 1823 the last link of the rustychain which had bound those colonies to Spain was snapped altogetherbeyond repair; and then, for a time, Central America became part of theState of Mexico. One by one, however, the colonies withdrew, and in 1824the independent Republic of Central America was formed, which, in itsturn, was dissolved; and ever since the States have been continually atwar--either with their neighbours or amongst themselves. 

It is these incessant wars and revolutions which have given the countryits present rather bad name, and have convinced those who happened tosympathise with the inhabitants when they were fighting for theirindependence that, after all, they had fared better even under the lamegovernment of Spain than they have done under their own. 

The present-day native of Central America can scarcely be said to be animprovement on the inhabitant of 1824. He still retains the fire and ireof the Spaniard in his blood--in fact, he is nothing short of anunfortunate mixture of the fiery Spaniard and the extremely restlessIndian. Small wonder, then, that "peace" is quite a luxury in thoseparts, and that revolutions break out periodically. 

In Nicaragua--the country with which my tale is concerned--this isespecially the case. One year passed without a revolution is a rarity;and I have gone through certainly not less than four such outbreaks. While the trouble exists it is decidedly inconvenient and uncomfortablefor the foreigner, but the real danger is often sadly exaggerated. During one of these disturbances, nevertheless, I narrowly escapedcoming into serious conflict with the authorities--and all through aboyish freak, which at any time would have been boyish, but amountedalmost to madness when played in the very heart of a town under martiallaw. When I first set foot on Central American soil, however, mymajority was still many months ahead of me, and I had not yet done withthat period of puerile frivolity through which most youths have to pass. Thus I will offer no other excuse, but will merely relate what tookplace. 

A pig--a common or garden pig--was at the bottom of it all. The nativesare very fond of pork indeed, and nearly every household boasts of atleast one porker, which is allowed the entire run of the house andlooked upon almost as "one of the family. " The air in the town where Iwas staying at the time had suddenly thickened with rumours of war; andit was a well-known fact that some thousands of men were ready toshoulder their rifles at a given signal and, with a few well-triedveterans at their head, to make a mad and murderous rush upon anythingand everything belonging to the Government. 

In such cases nothing is too bad for either party, excepting perhapsinterference with foreigners, whom, owing to one or two severe lessonsreceived of late years, the natives have now learned to respect. Fusillades in the centre of a town, a sudden charge with the bayonet ina thronged market-place, the unexpected firing of a mine, and similarproofs of the "patriotism" of one party or the other, may be expected atany moment; and although pretending to inclusion in the list ofcivilised nations, either party will spurn the idea of notice or warningprevious to the bombardment of a town. Every one is on the alert, andthe tension is trying indeed if it happens to be one's first"revolution. "

Bloodthirsty natives, speaking scarcely above a whisper, may be seen insmall groups at almost every street corner, and in such quarters of thetown where reside known sympathisers with the attacking party muchmilitary movement is noticeable. Every few hundred yards are stationedpickets of gendarmes or barefooted _soldados_; and after dusk, no matterwho you be or what your errand, you stand every chance of a bulletshould you fail to give prompt satisfaction on being challenged with theusual _quien vive?_

And so it was on the occasion to which I have alluded. Everybody'snerves were strung up to a painful pitch, and any unusual noise--anysound, almost, above a half-smothered cough--would bring fifty or sixtyreckless gendarmes, with fixed bayonets, to the spot in a very briefinterval. It was generally looked upon as certain that an assault uponthe town--in which one half the inhabitants were willing, nay, evenanxious to join--would commence before morning; and an ominous silenceprevailed. 

Then it was that my "little joke" or scheme was hatched. I was indulgingin a quiet game of "cannons" on a small French billiard-table in myhotel, and during the game had been several times annoyed by theproprietor's favourite pig, which insisted every now and then onstrolling beneath the table, to emerge on the other side quiteunexpectedly and bump heavily against my legs just as I was squaring forsome difficult shot. The brute had done this at least four times, withthe result that my opponent was many points to the good. I had oftenlicked him at the same game before, so the reader must not imagine thatI am merely excusing my own play--it was the pig's fault, without adoubt, and I was beginning to lose my temper. 

"I'll teach that pig a lesson when the game is over, " I remarked to myopponent; and, in effect, I had soon put away my cue, and, cornering theporker, fastened a piece of cord to his hind trotter. A large emptybiscuit-tin and a bunch of Chinese crackers did the rest--the tin beingsecured to the other end of the line and the crackers nestling snuglyinside the tin. 

The natives who stood around watching these preparations evidentlyforesaw certain results which my boyish vision failed to reach, forthey whispered and laughed to one another, and at intervals, rubbingtheir hands together with glee, would exclaim, "A good joke. " "Eh! agood joke, you see!"

The whole town was startled a few minutes later by the uproar, and theshouts and laughter of those who witnessed the porker's departure fromthe hotel. 

Lighting the tiny fuse attached to the crackers, I put them back againinto the tin, and a kick at the latter was sufficient to startle the hogoff at a gallop down the street. 

The slight pull on his hind leg caused by the weight of the tinevidently annoyed him, and, wishing to get away from it, he ran thefaster. 

Boom! boom! The biscuit-tin swung from side to side at every pace, andeach time it struck the ground with a noisy report which in itself wassufficient to arouse the already alarmed town. 

Then, the fuse having burned down, the crackers commenced business. Bang! bang! Burr-rr--bang! Burr-rr--bang-bang-BANG! they went, thevibrations of the tin adding volume to each detonation; and it would bedifficult indeed to imagine a better imitation of a distant fusillade. The frightened hog only went the faster. 

I was running behind, endeavouring to keep up with the pig, for I didnot wish to lose any of the fun; but he soon out-distanced me, althoughI was fortunate enough to be within ear-shot when the crackers gavetheir final kick. 

Bang! bang! Burr--rr--bang! Bang! BANG!

Then began the fun. The inhabitants crowded to their doors to inquirein which direction the attack on the town had commenced, and themilitary were tearing hither and thither, like so many madmen. Biggenerals in their shirt-sleeves galloped through the streets on littlehorses, collecting their men; pieces of artillery were rushed out of thebarracks and held in readiness; scouts went out to reconnoitre in everyconceivable direction, and the military band, playing all the nationalairs within their ken, paraded the public square, halting every now andthen so that an officer might read to the public the Commandante'sorders to the effect that all the inhabitants must remain indoors underpain of all sorts of outrageous and impossible penalties. 

In view of the latter, however, I deemed it wise to give up my chase andreturn to my hotel, there to await developments; and as I retraced mysteps cries of _El enemigo! El enemigo!_ hailed me at almost every pace. Hundreds of questions as to the whereabouts of the attacking forces werehurled at me as I went, but I dared not stop to respond, or without adoubt I should have betrayed myself. At the onset, boylike, I hadconsidered this a "splendid joke, " but now the alarm was so widespreadthat I did not know whether to feel startled by the result or flatteredto think I had succeeded in putting an entire town in an uproar. 

I thought of the pleasure that would be experienced by the ordinary"romp" at home were he able to make so vast an impression with hiseveryday practical jokes; and it was to me a matter of tremendous wonderthat a harmless biscuit-tin, a common or garden firework, and a"domestic" pig could possibly combine to cause such intense excitement. 

With very great difficulty I managed to pass the various picketsstationed along the streets, being detained by each one forcross-examination; and ere I reached my hotel I was overtaken by half acompany of _soldados_ returning to barracks with a prisoner. Then myconscience began to prick me. 

"This has gone rather too far, " I thought. "I did not intend to do anyone an injury, but only desired to teach that wretched porker a lesson. "In fact, I felt distinctly uncomfortable as I trudged along, andsomewhat alarmed at this new turn of events; and I resolved that in thefuture I would look ahead before attempting even the commonest practicaljoke. 

When I reached the spot where the next picket was stationed, I wassurprised to find that the men failed to challenge me. I was gettingquite used to the "Who goes there?" which had met me at every streetcorner, and the absence of it in this case made me somewhat suspicious. The explanation was not long in coming. I found them all in fits oflaughter; and, availing myself of the opportunity which their mirthafforded me, I made inquiries as to the name of the prisoner who hadbeen marched past me a few minutes ago. My question provoked moremirth, but I eventually secured the information, which had the effect ofadding my mirth to theirs, for I learned that the prisoner was--_a pigwith a tin tied to his leg_. 

This pig, I was informed, was the cause of the whole alarm. There was noattack--in fact, there was no enemy near enough to the town, as yet, toindulge in an assault. All was a practical joke--some one had let thispig loose with a biscuit-tin tied to his leg, and this had started thealarm. The porker had been run down and lassoed by the military on theoutskirts of the town, so that it was all over now--_excepting that theauthorities were looking for the perpetrator_, or the originator of thescare. 

Realising now the extent of my folly, I, who hitherto had been laughingup my sleeve at the discomfiture and alarm of others, was in my turngenuinely alarmed, and all the way back to my hotel I was wondering asto what would be my best course of action--foreseeing, whichever way Iturned for a solution, visions of heavy fines, probable imprisonment, and possible banishment from the country altogether. 

On reaching the hotel I was hailed by many of those who had witnessed"the start, " and consequently knew my connection with the affair. Theysoon posted me as to what had happened during my absence. 

Ere the pig and myself had been gone five minutes, a picket of soldiersmade a rush upon the hotel, went inside, and, closing every exit, informed the occupants that every one must consider himself under arrestuntil the real originator of the "scare" was discovered. The officerremarked that he knew for a fact that the matter began there, andalthough the pig had not yet been caught it had been recognised as"_belonging to the proprietor's family_. "

Then, to the surprise of every one concerned, a certain Colonel Moyal, anative keenly opposed to the Government and a suspected revolutionist, stepped forward and declared that he had carried the whole thing throughfrom beginning to end, so was prepared to take the consequences. 

Needless to say, my champion was arrested and marched off to theCabildo; and I was informed that the plucky fellow had done this toshield me, merely to keep me out of trouble because he had taken a fancyto me. 

Not for this, however, would I let him remain in his unenviableposition. It did not take me long to resolve that, to be honourable, Imust myself bear the consequences of my own folly; and in a very shorttime afterward I was interviewing the Commandante. That official, inwhose favour I had long since made it my business to firmly establishmyself, informed me that it was then too late at night to take anyevidence, or, in fact, to move at all in the matter; but that he wouldattend to me at eight o'clock next morning. 

The following day at the appointed hour I waited on him, told him I wasthe real culprit, secured the colonel's release, paid a fine of a fewdollars, and by nine o'clock was back again in my hotel; and when I satdown with the Colonel that night to a special _cena_ to which I hadinvited him--intending in some measure to prove to him my gratitude forhis generosity and esteem--I made a rather boyish speech in which Iregretted tremendously the Colonel's having passed an exceedinglyuncomfortable night in prison on my account, and my inability to releasehim the night before. 

Moyal, to my intense surprise, replied that he had to _thank me_ for theopportunity I had given him. "Of course, " said he, "I should not like tosee you in trouble, and would have done anything in my power to keep youout of it, but I must admit that my motive was not the generous one thathas been attributed to me. It was a rather selfish motive, you see, between you and me. I am a moving spirit in this revolution which isbrewing, and I have important business with the Government soldiersinside the Cabildo. In the ordinary course, since I am known as arevolutionist, I cannot possibly get into open or secret communicationwith them--so of course I had to get arrested, and you gave me thatchance!"

I was about to ask him, boylike, whether he was successful in hismission, when he added, "The only pity is that you didn't let me staythere a bit longer--but you were not to know, so I appreciate yourpromptness. "

However, I had reason to believe afterwards that he had not succeededin his object, which, I have no doubt, was to "buy" all the _soldados_over to his side, for up to this day the political party to which theColonel belonged is out of power, though it has repeatedly made effortsto get in. 

XVII

A DROWNING MESSMATE

It is as one of the most popular sea-novelists of all times that CaptainMarryat is best known to his countrymen--oldsters and youngsters alike. The whole life of this gallant seaman, however, was made up of one longseries of exciting adventures, both on land and sea, many of theseexperiences being made use of in after years to supply material for hissea-romances. 

One of Marryat's most characteristic acts of self-devotion was hisspringing overboard into the waters of Malta Harbour in order to savethe life of a middy messmate, Cobbett by name, who had accidentallyfallen overboard. What made this action an especially noble one was thefact that Cobbett was one of the greatest bullies in the midshipmen'sberth, and had specially singled out Marryat for cowardly and brutaltreatment. Again, we must remember that sharks are often seen in MaltaHarbour, and any one rash enough to enter its waters takes his life inhis hands. 

Thank God the gunroom of a British man-of-war of the present day ismanaged in an entirely different manner from what it was in Marryat'sday. Says that gallant officer: "There was no species of tyranny, injustice, and persecution to which youngsters were not compelled tosubmit from those who were their superiors in bodily strength. "

The entire management and organisation of the Royal Navy at that periodwas rotten to the core, and it speaks volumes for the devotion, skill, and bravery of the gallant officers of the fleet that they somagnificently upheld the glory and honour of the flag in every quarterof the globe in spite of the shortcomings of the Admiralty Board. 

As an instance of this general mismanagement of naval affairs, Marryat, who had been sent to join the _Impérieuse_ frigate as a young middy, thus writes in his private log--

"The _Impérieuse_ sailed; the admiral of the port was one who _would_ beobeyed, but _would not_ listen always to reason or common-sense. Thesignal for sailing was enforced by gun after gun; the anchor was hoveup, and, with all her stores on deck, her guns not even mounted, in astate of confusion unparalleled from her being obliged to hoist infaster than it was possible she could stow away, she was driven out ofharbour to encounter a heavy gale. A few hours more would have enabledher to proceed to sea with security, but they were denied; theconsequences were appalling, and might have been fatal. 

"In the general confusion, some iron too near the binnacles hadattracted the needle of the compasses; the ship was steered out of hercourse. At midnight, in a heavy gale at the close of the month ofNovember, so dark that you could not distinguish any object, howeverclose, the _Impérieuse_ dashed upon the rocks between Ushant and theMain. The cry of terror which ran through the lower deck; the grating ofthe keel as she was forced in; the violence of the shocks whichconvulsed the frame of the vessel; the hurrying up of the ship's companywithout their clothes; and then the enormous waves which again bore herup and carried her clean over the reef, will never be effaced from mymemory. 

"Our escape was miraculous. With the exception of her false keel havingbeen torn off, the ship had suffered little injury; but she had beatover a reef, and was riding by her anchors, surrounded by rocks, some ofthem as high out of water as her lower-yards, and close to her. Hownearly were the lives of a fine ship's company, and of Lord Cochrane andhis officers, sacrificed in this instance to the despotism of an admiralwho _would_ be obeyed!

"The cruises of the _Impérieuse_ were periods of continual excitement, from the hour in which she hove up her anchor till she dropped it againin port; the day that passed without a shot being fired in anger waswith us a blank day; the boats were hardly secured on the booms thanthey were cast loose and out again; the yard and stay tackles were forever hoisting up and lowering down. 

"The expedition with which parties were formed for service; the rapidityof the frigate's movements, night and day; the hasty sleep, snatched atall hours; the waking up at the report of the guns, which seemed theonly key-note to the hearts of those on board; the beautiful precisionof our fire, obtained by constant practice; the coolness and courage ofour captain inoculating the whole of the ship's company; the suddennessof our attacks, the gathering after the combat, the killed lamented, thewounded almost envied; the powder so burnt into our faces that yearscould not remove it; the proved character of every man and officer onboard; the implicit trust and the adoration we felt for our commander;the ludicrous situations which would occur even in the extremest dangerand create mirth when death was staring you in the face; the hairbreadthescapes, and the indifference to life shown by all--when memory sweepsalong those years of excitement even now, my pulse beats more quicklywith the reminiscence. "

A middy's life was no child's play in those days, was it?

But it is time that I told you the story of how Marryat saved the lifeof his messmate Cobbett, in the Mediterranean. 

The _Impérieuse_ was lying at anchor in Malta Harbour at the time theincident happened. It was about the hour of sunset, and the officer onduty had turned the men of the second dog watch up to hoist the boats tothe davits. The men ran away smartly with the falls, and soon had thecutters clear of the water and swung high in the air. 

At this moment, Cobbett, who was off duty, went into the main-chainswith some lines and bait in order to fish. In endeavouring to get on oneof the ratlines of the lower-rigging his foot unfortunately slipped, andhe fell headlong overboard into the waters of the Grand Harbour. Severalpersons witnessed the accident, and the prodigious splash the middy'sbody made in striking the water immediately made known to every one elsethat a struggle for life had commenced. 

Cobbett could not swim a stroke, and was much hampered by his heavyclothes and boots. At the first plunge he was carried far beneath thesurface, but quickly rose again, puffing and blowing like a grampus, andmaking desperate efforts to keep himself afloat. 

The officer of the watch promptly called away the lifeboat's crew, andthese men quickly scrambled into one of the quarter-boats, which by thistime had been run up to the davits. Life-buoys too had been thrownoverboard, but not one of them had fallen near enough to the strugglingboy to enable him to grasp it. Young Marryat happened at the time of theaccident to be standing in the waist of the ship conversing with thecaptain of the main-top of the watch below. Hearing the splash and theexcited cries of "Man overboard!" which rang out fore-and-aft, he rushedto the gangway to see if he could be of any assistance in the emergency. 

One can imagine his feelings on beholding his arch-enemy, the bully ofthe midshipmen's berth, struggling desperately for life under thefrigate's counter. Being an admirable swimmer himself, Marryat saw at aglance that his messmate was helpless in the water, and indeed was onthe point of sinking. Without a moment's hesitation, and without waitingto throw off coat or boots, the plucky youngster boldly plungedoverboard, and quickly rising to the surface, struck out for his nowalmost unconscious enemy, and fortunately managed to seize him and keephim afloat, whilst he shouted to those on board to lower the cutter asquickly as possible. The men were only too eager to go to hisassistance, and the instant the lifeboat was safely in the water, hercrew got their oars out, and, pulling vigorously to the spot, soonhauled both midshipmen, wet and dripping, inboard. 

Cobbett was unconscious, his face being as pale as death, but it wasonly a matter now of a few seconds to get him aboard the frigate, wherehe soon revived under the care of the surgeons, and was able to returnto duty in the course of a day or two, much humbled in spirit, and verygrateful to the courageous young messmate who had so gallantly saved hislife at the risk of his own. 

Writing home to his mother on the subject of this adventure, Marryatconcluded his account by saying: "From that moment I have loved thefellow as I never loved friend before. All my hate is forgotten. I havesaved his life. "

A ludicrous adventure in the water once befell Captain Marryat. In thegallant officer's private log occurs this entry: "July 10th. --Anchoredin Carrick Roads, Falmouth. Gig upset with captain. "

Florence Marryat in her father's memoirs thus relates the incident:"When this gig was capsized, it contained, besides Captain Marryat, amiddy and an old bumboat woman. The woman could swim like a fish, butthe boy could not, and as Captain Marryat, upon rising to the surface ofthe water and preparing to strike out for the ship, found himself mostneedlessly clutched and borne up by this lady, he shook her offimpatiently, saying: 'Go to the boy! Go to the boy! He can't swim!'

"'_Go to the boy!_' she echoed above the winds and waves. 'What! hold upa midshipman when I can save the life of a captain! Not I indeed!' Andno entreaties could prevail on her to relinquish her impending honours. Who eventually did the 'dirty work' on this occasion is not recorded, but it is certain that no one was drowned. "

As is well known, sailors are devoted to animals, and Marryat was noexception to the rule. He has left on record a story of a pet baboon, which was on board the _Tees_ with him--

"I had on board a ship which I commanded a very large Cape baboon, whowas a pet of mine, and also a little boy, who was a son of mine. Whenthe baboon sat down on his hams he was about as tall as the boy when hewalked. The boy, having a tolerable appetite, received about noon aconsiderable slice of bread-and-butter to keep him quiet tilldinner-time. I was on one of the carronades, busy with the sun's lowerlimb, bringing it into contact with the horizon, when the boy's lowerlimbs brought him into contact with the baboon, who, having, as well asthe boy, a strong predilection for bread-and-butter, and a stronger armto take it withal, thought proper to help himself to that to which theboy had already been helped. In short, he snatched the bread-and-butter, and made short work of it, for it was in his pouch in a moment. 

"Upon this the boy set up a yell, which attracted my notice to thisviolation of the articles of war, to which the baboon was equallyamenable as any other person in the ship, for it is expressly stated inthe preamble of every article, 'all who are _in_, or _belonging_ to. 'Whereupon I jumped off the carronade and, by way of assisting hisdigestion, I served out to the baboon _monkey's allowance_, which ismore kicks than halfpence! The master reported that the heavensintimated that it was twelve o'clock, and, with all the humility of acaptain of a man-of-war, I ordered him to 'make it so'; whereupon it wasmade, and so passed that day. 

"I do not remember how many days it was afterwards that I was on thecarronade as usual, about the same time, and all parties were preciselyin the same situations--the master by my side, the baboon under thebooms, and the boy walking out of the cabin with his bread-and-butter. As before, he again passed the baboon, who again snatched thebread-and-butter from the boy, who again set up a squall, which againattracted my attention. I looked round, and the baboon caught my eye, which told him plainly that he'd soon catch what was not at all _myeye_; and he proved that he actually thought so, for he at once put thebread-and-butter back into the boy's hands!

"It was the only instance of which I ever knew or heard of a monkeybeing capable of self-denial where his stomach was concerned, and Irecord it accordingly. This poor fellow, when the ship's company weredying of the cholera, took that disease, went through all itsgradations, and died apparently in great agony. "

XVIII

THE PILOT OF PORT CREEK

The sun, low in the west, was sinking behind a heavy cloudbank, which, to nautical eyes, portended fog at sea. 

A mariner, far out in the Channel, in a small boat, was shading his eyeswith his hand and gazing towards the south-western horizon. 

The lad--he was not more than eighteen--was calculated to attractattention. He was of fine physique. His hair shone like burnished gold. His eyes were deep blue, clear, and bright. A marked firmness was abouthis mouth and chin; and when he seized the oars and rowed to counteractthe boat's leeway caused by the tide, the grip of his hands was as thatof a vice. 

He was the pilot of Port Creek--no official title, but one given him bya lawless set of men amongst whom, for many years, his lot had beencast. 

Astern, faint and indistinct, loomed the low-lying coast-line. One couldonly judge it to be a wild, inhospitable shore. 

The sun disappeared, and the shades of night began to fall. Suddenly theclouds parted, and a ray of sunshine shot obliquely down towards thesouth-west. 

The pilot immediately muttered: "That's well!"

The bright ray had struck the dark sails of a lugger, and in her he hadrecognised the craft he had come out to pilot to a fateful destination. 

Smartly he ran up a small lugsail, and set his boat's head towards thestranger. She was black hulled, and with a rakish rig that gave her theappearance of being a fast sailer. 

At the critical moment, when it appeared the lugger was about to cut himdown, the pilot suddenly ported helm, and ran his boat under thelugger's side. Smartly he lowered his sail and fastened on the vesselwith his boathook. 

"Heave a rope!" called he. "I'm coming on board. "

"And who are you?" asked a swarthy man, who had been watching from thelugger's bows. 

"I bring a message to your captain. "

"Catch, then!" and a coil of rope went curling through the air. 

The pilot deftly caught it, and hitched the end to the bow of his boat. 

"Carry it astern, and make fast!" ordered he, like one accustomed tocommand. "She'll tow till I want her. "

The boat dropped astern, but the pilot nimbly boarded the lugger. 

A powerful man in reefer jacket, sou'-wester, and sea-boots greeted himwith--

"You seem pretty free with strangers, my lad. "

The pilot held out a piece of paper. The captain took it and read--

"_It is by our order and for the good of the cause that the bearer isauthorised to act. _"

The signature was a rude hieroglyphic. The captain's manner immediatelyshowed that he recognised it, and respected it. 

"Am I to understand that you take command?"

The pilot bowed, and tendered a second paper. The captain read--

"_Should the bearer fail to accomplish that which he has undertaken, itwill be for the captain of the_ 'Swift' _to see that he gives no furthertrouble. _"

A wicked gleam came into the captain's eyes. 

"If you fail in that which you are instructed to do--and which I knownothing of at present--this is your death-warrant?"

"It is. "

"Then see you fail not. "

"Rely on it, I shall not fail!"

The words were spoken in such cold, deliberate tones that the captain--aman who boasted he knew not fear--shivered as though from the touch ofan icy hand. 

"What are your orders?" presently asked the captain, eyeing him keenly. 

"To pilot the lugger to the head of Port Creek, where friends await hercargo. The old landings are played out; but who would suspect a luggerto effect a run in the creek _after dark_?"

"No human hand could steer that course!"

"Yet I am here. "

"The thing is impossible!"

"The tide flows at midnight. My orders are to go in with the rising tideand bring you out on the ebb, that you may make a good offing beforedawn. "

"It cannot be done! I'll not have the risk----"

"You have your commands, I my orders, " coldly interrupted the pilot. 

"Then I'll execute mine to the letter!"

"And I--we shall see. "

He bent low over the binnacle, afterwards glancing swiftly shoreward. 

"Keep her away a couple of points. We'll come about presently and fetchthe creek on the other tack, just after dark, and with the tide halfmade. "

Long and intently the captain studied the boy's fearless face. Then hebegan to recall an almost forgotten memory. 

"Boy, " said he suddenly, "you remind me of some one I have known. "

The pilot's gaze remained as steady as his own, but there was a slightexpression of cynicism playing about his mouth. 

"Ay!" continued the captain, seeming to speak his thoughts aloud. "Theeyes are the same, just as they looked that night when I---- Bah!"recovering himself. "What a fool I am! This new venture unmans me. "

The pilot did not seem to hear, but his eyes seemed to glow with agreen sheen, as the gathering gloom obscured his face. A violent emotionwas possessing him. 

"Boy!" again cried the captain, "you interest me. How comes it that oneso young holds so responsible a position in the cause?"

"By past services have I been judged. "

"Come, tell me the story. "

"As you will. "

"You will find me a ready listener. "

"Be it so; but not yet. Now set the course north-west. A single lighthere at the binnacle, and no other to show from anywhere on board. Assoon as we are in the creek, see that the sails are smartly trimmed tomy order. There'll be little time to spare. "

The captain passed the word, and began to moodily pace the deck. He hadnever thought to question the genuineness of the two papers. There stoodthe pilot, his life forfeited by any failure tending to bring disasterupon the lugger; and it was a good guarantee. 

Anon the captain glanced at the pale, set face of the pilot, on whichthe diffused light from the binnacle lantern feebly shone. For thesecond time that evening the captain shivered, and without being able todefine the cause. He felt strangely ill at ease. Accustomed to daringventures, the present seemed sheer recklessness. Who was this determinedboy? Why did his presence bring back a fateful memory of the past?

The darkness deepened, and was further intensified by the cold, greyfog. The wind was light, but a steady up-Channel draught. The lugger wascreeping in under mainsail and jib, her other sails being furled. 

The pilot took over the helm, and ordered the man he relieved to goforward. At the same time the captain came and stood by the binnacle. 

"What is our position?" shortly asked he. 

"We are within the creek, " replied the pilot. "Hark! Don't you hear thegrinding of the shingle away over the port bow? As soon as the soundcomes from windward we'll have her on the port tack, and thus we'llclear Boulder Ledge. "

"It sounds fair sailing; but I liken it to going blindly into a trap, "retorted the captain. 

"Haul on the main-sheet! Steady, forward, with the jib!" And the pilotstarboarded his helm. 

Again the captain shivered. Who was this, who held death so lightly? Hisown gloomy forebodings came upon him with redoubled force. What mannerof pilot was this, to whom night was as day?

"Boy!" he cried shortly, "why are you here?"

"You read my orders. "

"Yes; but----"

Again the pilot caused an interruption by shifting helm. 

"Who are you?" hoarsely cried the captain. 

"Well, sixteen years ago to-night--steady, cap'n!" for the man hadstaggered as though from the effect of a mortal blow. 

"Avast! Who and what are you?" The captain's voice was deep andmenacing. 

"The pilot of Port Creek. I have no other name--at least, it suits me toforget it. "

"What was your father?"

"A mariner. "

"His name?"

"Wait!" and the pilot luffed till the sails shook. A peculiar vibrationpassed throughout the lugger's timbers, and her way was gently arrested. 

"We're aground! You have failed!" cried the captain, and drew a pistolfrom his belt. 

"Wait!" And again the pilot spoke in cold, disdainful tones. One mighthave counted a hundred. It was terrible suspense. The captain's fingerwas toying with the trigger of his pistol. The pilot stood immovable, the disdainful smile deepening upon his lips. "Ease off the main-sheet!"cried he, as he turned his ear to windward. There came a stronger puffof wind, a bigger wave rolled up under the lugger's stern, she lifted, and immediately glided forward--free!

"You lost your reckoning, my lad!" cried the captain. 

"A slight error of judgment. The tide has made somewhat less than Ianticipated. "

"What is our position?"

"We scraped on the Sandstone Ledge, " grimly. "'Twas a close shave--forme!"

"And did you doubt----"

"No. But put up your pistol and I'll get on with my story--unless you'drather not listen. "

"No, no! Go on!"

The pilot stood steady at the helm, his eyes fixed on the binnacle, eachmovement of the compass-needle a sign for his ready hands to obey. Anona concise order to shift a sail fell from his lips, for in spite of hisinterrupted conversation with the captain his every action showed atrained alertness. 

Again he took up the thread of his story--

"'Twas my father's death made me--what I am. " The pause was ominous. "Hewas one of us--a smuggler. "

"Ah!"

"A run had been planned----"

"I----"

"My father was young and daring. To him was entrusted the mostventuresome part of the night's work. But I am anticipating. He had arival--a man who sought my mother. But she was true to my father. "

"I remember----"

"Steady, cap'n! You may have known him--perchance he was once yourfriend?"

"No, no!" hoarsely. "He--I----"

A bright light suddenly flashed through the fog, and from right ahead. 

"A signal?" cried the captain. 

"From a friend, " and the pilot ported helm. "'Tis a dangerous spothereabouts, so nothing has been left to chance. We're now abreast ofGreen Point. Steady, lads, for the next tack!"

Shortly another light flashed right upon the lugger's bows. The pilotjammed over the helm to starboard. There was a slight shock, andsomething grated along the lugger's side. 

"All clear now, cap'n; but 'twas a narrow go. We grazed Rudder Rock! Thefool stationed there with the light flashed it a full minute too late!"

"Boy, you must have dealings with----"

"Steady, cap'n! Your nerves are unstrung. Perhaps the conclusion of mystory 'll steady them. Well, the venture that was planned was no lessthan to take the goods in under Black Rock, and have them hauled up theface of the cliff. In the end 'twas safely done--to all but my father. He had been lowered down to fasten on the bales. Those who were out thatnight came back saying he had fallen from the cliff. They recovered hisbody the next day, and they found the piece of rope around the mangledcorpse had been cut. "

"Ay, by the rocks. "

"No, no! A poor fellow who witnessed the act was shot by the hand thatcut the rope; but he lived long enough to tell my mother the truth. "

"Or a parcel of lies. "

"Dying men don't lie, cap'n! I was born that same night. Yearsafterwards, when I was old enough to understand--when my mother was onher deathbed--she told me the story; and my last word to her was apromise to hunt down my father's murderer. "

"And you have failed!" cried the captain. 

"Let go the anchor!" cried the pilot. "See, cap'n, I'll bring her headup into the wind, and she'll ride with her sails set. Off with thehatches, my lads!"

A bright light flashed three times from left to right. The pilot tookthe lantern and waved responsive signals. 

"All's well!" cried he. "Cap'n, you will see to the getting up of thegoods. "

Taken off his guard, the captain stepped to the hatchway, gave a feworders, and seemed to recollect something. But the binnacle light wasout, and the pilot had disappeared! The captain caught at the rope bywhich his boat had been towing astern. It came in without resistance; ithad been cut!

"We are betrayed!" cried the captain. "Hark! Friends or foes!" as anumber of boats came quickly alongside. 

"Surrender in the King's name!" was the response. 

 * * * * *

The desperate encounter that ensued is written in the history of thoselawless times. Suffice it that the captain and his crew paid the fullpenalty of their many crimes. 

The pilot, having fulfilled his vow, was no more seen upon that part ofthe coast. To have remained would have been to forfeit his life, forthe betrayed smugglers had many friends. 

But the old chronicles from which I have compiled this story go on tosay that he secured a berth in the navy, and years afterwards trod thequarter-deck of a man-of-war. 

_Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London and Bungay. _

ADVERTISEMENTS

The Boy's Library of Adventure & Heroism. 

_An attractive series of books for boys, well printed and illustrated, and handsomely bound. _

_Large crown 8vo, cloth, full gilt, 3s. 6d. Per volume. _

+THE GOLDSMITH OF CHEPE. A Tale of the Plague Year. + By TOM BEVAN, Authorof 'A Hero in Wolf-Skin. ' With eight illustrations by J. JELLICOE. Largecrown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 An exciting and interesting story of the time of the Great Plague of 1665; it recites the many adventures through which the hero passed in London, and later in Dorsetshire, where a number of sensational encounters with smugglers and pirates are described. Mr. Bevan knows how to win the attention of boys, and this story will be found to be written in his happiest vein. 

+FOR QUEEN AND EMPEROR. A Story of Valour and Adventure. + By ERNESTPROTHEROE, Author of 'Myddleton's Treasure, ' 'From Scapegrace to Hero, '&c. With coloured frontispiece and title-page, and eight otherillustrations by J. FINNEMORE, R. I. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 The days of the early Britons always have a fascination for youthful readers, and this story is well calculated to sustain their interest. The struggles against the Roman invader supply the hero with the earlier adventures in the story; but after a time the scene changes to Rome, and then to Palestine in the days of the fall of Jerusalem. Whilst passing from one moving scene to another, the reader learns a good deal as to conditions of life under review; but the information so conveyed is never obtrusive, and never diverts attention from the outstanding scenes and figures in this splendid romance. 

+THE CRUISE OF THE 'GOLDEN FLEECE. ' A Story of Adventure in the Days ofPhilip and Mary. + By SARDIUS HANCOCK. With coloured frontispiece andeight other illustrations by J. FINNEMORE, R. I. Large crown 8vo, clothgilt, 3s. 6d. 

 This is a stirring story of the days of Queen Mary, and is full of exciting adventure. It opens with the ill-fated expedition led by Sir Thomas Wyatt. Philip St. Ledger, one of Wyatt's followers, falls in love with Barbara Lillingworth, and is shipped on board the 'Golden Fleece' by his rival, to get him out of the way. Then follow many adventures in the West Indies, where the rivals meet. There are battles at sea and on the land, both in the West Indies and in the Netherlands, where Philip's rival tries to effect his death and ruin, finally invoking the aid of the Inquisition. 

LONDON: THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY. 

 * * * * *

The Boy's Library of Adventure & Heroism. 

+THAT BOY OF FRASER'S. + By ERNEST PROTHEROE, Author of 'For Queen andEmperor, ' 'St. Merville's Scholarship Boys, ' &c. With colouredfrontispiece and eight other illustrations by ALFRED PEARSE. Large crown8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 A vigorous and vivid story of boy life in a London slum. The young hero will win the sympathy and regard of every reader. His courage, his love for his mother and sister, his faithfulness to his trust, make the story of his family fortunes irresistibly attractive to boy readers. 

 _The School Guardian_ says: 'An excellent prize-book for boys, and one which they would thoroughly enjoy. '

 _The British Weekly_ says: 'A clever story of pluck and manliness on the part of a little boy. '

+A COLLEGIAN IN KHAKI. + By WILLIAM JOHNSTON, with four colouredillustrations by ERNEST PRATER, and coloured title-page. Large crown8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 The doings of Charlie Winter, expelled from college for misconduct, form a story abounding in adventure. Ashamed to return home, he enlists and is sent to South Africa, and is taken prisoner at an early stage. Escaping from Pretoria, he takes part in many battles and forms a member of the Ladysmith relief force. Warned by his early fall, he redeems his character and wins the Victoria Cross. 

 _The Yorkshire Post_ says: 'It is a rattling good story, which will appeal strongly to boys. '

 _The English Churchman_ says: 'The story is full of interest for boys. '

+WITH RIFLE AND KUKRI. + By FREDERICK P. GIBBON, Author of 'Comrades UnderCanvas, ' 'The Disputed V. C. , ' &c. With four coloured illustrations by J. FINNEMORE, R. I. , and coloured title-page. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 Boys who love stories of plucky deeds will find 'With Rifle and Kukri' altogether to their taste. The heroic deeds called forth by England's 'little wars' along the Indian frontier--the dashing exploits of the Gurkhas and others of our native allies--the coolness with which the handful of Englishmen in India met the outbreak of the Great Mutiny--all these are narrated in stirring language by an author whose local knowledge is extensive and exact. 

LONDON: THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY. 

 * * * * *

The Boy's Library of Adventure & Heroism. 

+MELTONIANS ALL!+ By F. COWLEY WHITEHOUSE. With three colouredillustrations by J. FINNEMORE, R. I. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 A capital boy's book, giving a stirring account of life in a great public school. All three heroes of the tale are very attractive to the reader, while the touch of tragedy describing the noble self-sacrifice of one of them further deepens the interest of this lively story. 

 _The Daily Mail_ says: 'A thoroughly healthy school story, which touches neither too lightly nor too heavily upon the responsibilities of boyhood. '

 _The Globe_ says: 'A splendid schoolboy's story, in which pluck, honesty and steadfastness are winners every time. '

 _The English Churchman_ says: 'A very well written story-book for boys, dealing with school life in a lively style. '

+MYDDLETON'S TREASURE. + By ERNEST PROTHEROE, Author of 'That Boy ofFraser's, ' 'Bob Marchant's Scholarship, ' &c. With three colouredillustrations by J. MACFARLANE. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 Entering the railway service, Jasper Myddleton worked his way up to the footplate only for the past to rise up against him and cause his dismissal. But his grit and dogged pertinacity carried him safely through various adventures at sea and in Central Africa. He discovered the 'Real King Solomon's Mines, ' but in 'Kiddy, ' a little girl-friend, he found the greatest treasure of all. The plot is particularly attractive, and the reader will follow Myddleton's vigorous, moving career with sustained interest. 

+THE BAYMOUTH SCOUTS. + By TOM BEVAN, Author of 'The Goldsmith of Chepe, ''A Trooper of the Finns, ' &c. With four coloured illustrations by GORDONBROWNE. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 This is a story of the days of Napoleon, and his threatened invasion of England. Two boys are kidnapped and carried to France, from where, after many adventures, they escape and return to England, bringing with them a lady and her daughter, who had been ruined by the Revolution. It is especially suited for Boy Scouts. 

LONDON: THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY. 

 * * * * *

STORIES FOR BOYS. 

By TALBOT BAINES REED. 

_The name of Talbot Baines Reed will always be associated withfascinating, healthy stories for boys, dealing with public school life, and early business careers. No writer has been able more skilfully togive his characters a real personality, or to portray more faithfullytheir failures, sharp struggles and final successes. _

+THE ADVENTURES OF A THREE-GUINEA WATCH. +

With Seven Full-page and Sixteen other Illustrations in the Text. Largecrown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 A straightforward story of school-life, and of the duties and temptations of young men entering upon the work of life. The kind of book to rejoice the heart of the boy who gets it as a Christmas or Birthday present. 

+THE COCK HOUSE AT FELLSGARTH. A Public School Story. +

With Seven Full-page Illustrations by Alfred Pearse. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 A splendid story of school life. The rollicking fun of the juniors, the rivalry among the seniors, the school elections, the football match, are told in such a forcible manner that the tale will prove a source of delight to all boys--young and old. 

+THE FIFTH FORM AT ST. DOMINIC'S. A Public School Story. +

With Seven Full-page and Eight other Illustrations in the Text. Largecrown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 A lively story, abounding in stirring incident and in humorous descriptions. A thoroughly healthy tale to place in the hands of a boy. It ought to become popular both as a gift and prize book. 

+A DOG WITH A BAD NAME. +

With Seven Full-page Illustrations by ALFRED PEARSE. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 The story of a big ungainly youth who seemed fated to be misunderstood and to be made the butt of his comrades. His trials at school, and as a tutor, and the unsympathetic treatment by his guardian are delightfully told. 

THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY, LONDON. 

 * * * * *

STORIES FOR BOYS. 

By TALBOT BAINES REED. 

+ROGER INGLETON, MINOR. +

With Seven Full-page Illustrations by J. FINNEMORE, R. I. Large crown8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 _The Guardian_ says:--"Mr. Talbot Baines Reed knows how to tell a story, and he does himself justice in 'Roger Ingleton, Minor, ' in which he makes an excellent book out of the return of a long-lost half-brother who had gone out alone into the world, many years previously, after a bitter quarrel with his father. The discovery of the missing brother is not accomplished without many exciting incidents, out of which Mr. Reed weaves his plot. "

 _The Aberdeen Free Press_ says:--"This story has a modern atmosphere. The plot is very skilfully constructed and the interest is maintained up to the last page. "

+SIR LUDAR: A Story of the Days of the Great Queen Bess. +

With Eleven Full-page Illustrations. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 _The Guardian_ says:--"This stirring tale, which is played in the days of Queen Elizabeth, and tells of the wonderful adventures of a sturdy prentice-lad who contrived to crowd into a few years as much danger and fighting and hairbreadth escapes as would have lasted an army of ordinary folk for their whole lives. It is a capital book for boys which those who begin reading will have to finish. Mr. Pearse's illustrations, too, are very good. "

 _The Aberdeen Free Press_ says:--"This is a stirring tale of adventure with plenty of fighting. "

+PARKHURST BOYS, and other Stories of School Life. +

With Seven Full-page and many other Illustrations. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 In this volume are brought together a large number of the miscellaneous stories written from time to time for the _Boy's Own Paper_ by Talbot Baines Reed. The collection is prefaced by an appreciation of Mr. Reed as boy and man, and it contains some of his best work and his brightest wit. There are seven sketches of life at Parkhurst School; eleven character delineations of "Boys we have known"--such as "The Bully, " "The Sneak"; twelve representations of "Boys of English History"; and seven other short stories of boy life and interest. 

THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY, LONDON. 

 * * * * *

The Boy's Own Series. 

_A Series of Books for Boys by well-known Writers, containing Stories ofSchool Life, Adventures on Sea and Land, Stories of Old England, &c. Well illustrated, handsomely bound, cloth gilt, large crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. _

+BOB MARCHANT'S SCHOLARSHIP. + By ERNEST PROTHEROE. With sevenillustrations by ALFRED PEARSE. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 

 _The School Guardian_ says: 'A very readable tale with plenty of "go" in it. '

 _The Manchester Courier_ says: 'An attractive story of schoolboy life. '

 _The Spectator_ says: 'Here we have a story of adventure, the scene of action being what is called the educational ladder. Bob Marchant wins a scholarship . .. Which takes him to Orville College, a first-grade school. .. . The subject is worth treating, and should not be less interesting than the perils by flood and field which commonly form the themes of these stories. '

+THE HEROISM OF LANCELOT. + By JEANIE FERRY. With three colouredillustrations. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 

 This book will be read with eager interest and profit by all boys and girls. The author has produced quite a number of beautiful characters, and some the reverse of beautiful. Lancelot is undoubtedly the hero, and a splendid one, too, but there are several heroines who run him close in the race of unselfishness and purity of character. Boys will vote the book 'jolly' and 'stunning, ' and unconsciously they will have themselves imbibed a wholesome draught from a carefully written and good story. 

+JACK SAFFORD: A Tale of the East Coast. + By WILLIAM WEBSTER. With threecoloured illustrations by ERNEST PRATER. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 

 A breezy boy's book of adventures in the North Sea. It will be sure to interest lads who are leaving school, and are wondering what the future holds in store for them. Honesty, bravery, and a readiness to seize opportunities for advancement are upheld in this well-written story. 

 _The British Weekly_ says: 'The book is full of adventure, and is most readable. '

 _The Liverpool Daily Post_ says: 'A story of adventure on sea and land, which boys will read with avidity, for Jack, among other things, had to find the way out of a very awkward predicament. '

LONDON: THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY. 

 * * * * *

The Boy's Own Series. 

+FROM SLUM TO QUARTER-DECK. + By GORDON STABLES, M. D. , R. N. , Author of'Wild Life in Sunny Lands, ' 'The Voyage of the "Blue Vega, "' &c. Withsix illustrations by ALFRED PEARSE. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 

 The hero of Dr. Gordon Stables' new work is a London boy about whose origin there is a mystery, which is skilfully dealt with and satisfactorily solved. A story of the sea, which the author's many admirers will be eager to read. 

 _The Record_ says: 'It is a bright and breezy volume, and will please boys immensely. '

 _The Schoolmaster_ says: 'This is a good rattling story of a street arab who has a series of interesting and exciting adventures. '

 _The United Methodist_ says: 'Real stirring adventures are sprung upon us in such unique fashion that we hesitate to give prospective readers an inkling as to their sequence. '

+ALLAN ADAIR; or, Here and There in Many Lands. + By GORDON STABLES, M. D. , R. N. , Author of 'In the Land of the Lion and the Ostrich. ' With colouredfrontispiece and title-page. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 

 _The Examiner_ says: 'Allan Adair, the only son of his widowed mother, distinguishes himself as a lad in helping to save a vessel in distress, and in return is offered a berth by the owners in one of their ships. Of course he accepts, and a life of world-wide travel and incident is the result. Among many exciting episodes may be mentioned shooting "rattlers" in the Sierras, encounters with narwhals and bears in the Arctic regions, a hairbreadth escape on the terrible ice-river of Spitzbergen, and adventures among the savages of Patagonia. '

+GALLANT SIR JOHN. + By SARDIUS HANCOCK, Author of 'The Cruise of theGolden Fleece, ' &c. With three coloured illustrations by J. FINNEMORE, R. I. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 

 'Gallant Sir John' is a stirring, exciting tale of the days when Henry V. Was gaining successive victories in France. At the same time Wyckliffe's Bible was being circulated by the Lollards, who were being hounded to exile, outlawry and death by the priests of Rome. Once begun this story will hold the reader to the end, for he will be taken into the very heart of those troublous times, and will witness many a thrilling scene. 

LONDON: THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY. 

 * * * * *

THE BOY'S OWN SERIES. 

+THE SHELL-HUNTERS: Their Wild Adventures by Land and Sea. +

By GORDON STABLES, author of "Allan Adair, " etc. Illustrated. Largecrown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 

 This is one of Dr. Gordon Stables' stories of adventure. A middle-aged man and a couple of boys make a voyage of discovery in the South Seas. The tale is full of exciting incidents and hairbreadth escapes so dear to the heart of all boys; and it has the advantage of being cleverly illustrated by ALFRED PEARSE. 

+HAROLD, THE BOY EARL. A Story of Old England. +

By J. F. HODGETTS, author of "Kormak the Viking, " etc. Illustrated. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 

+ILDERIM, THE AFGHAN. A Tale of the Indian Border. +

By DAVID KER. Illustrated. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 

 David Ker, the author of "The Lonely Island, " has here written a stirring and highly imaginative tale of India and the North-West Frontier. The heroes are men of high character, and a bright, healthy moral tone is maintained throughout. 

+ADVENTURES IN THE SOUTH PACIFIC. +

By ONE WHO WAS BORN THERE, author of "Annie Carr, " etc. Illustrated. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 

 _The Guardian_ says:--"The pictures of the South Sea Islanders are evidently drawn from life, and the accounts of the kidnappers, both cannibal and slave-hunting, are well told and full of grim interest. "

 _The Methodist Times_ says:--"The book is a true record of the adventures of the son of a South Sea Island Missionary. The writer begins at the beginning--at his earliest whippings--and goes on through escapades by land and sea. He narrowly escapes poisoning by _carea_ and is in an awful tornado. Perils by famine, by murder, by heathen superstition, by sharks, by pestilence, by white slave-traders, bring before the reader vividly, life as it is in the savage islands of the South. "

THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY, LONDON. 

 * * * * *

THE BOY'S OWN SERIES. 

+UNTRUE TO HIS TRUST; or, Plotters and Patriots. +

By HENRY JOHNSON, author of "Turf and Table, " "A Book of Heroes, " etc. With Five Illustrations. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 

 _The Times_ says:--"A tale that is well-conceived and interesting. "

 _The Sheffield Independent_ says:--"A piece of masterly historical painting. "

 _The British Weekly_ says:--"A well written and readable book that conveys a great deal of instruction. The period of Charles II. Has been very carefully studied. "

+THE VOYAGE OF THE STORMY PETREL. +

By W. C. METCALF. With Three Illustrations by LANCELOT SPEED. Largecrown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 

 _The Glasgow Herald_ says:--"Possesses all the qualities which young readers for whom it is intended can best appreciate. These are narrow escapes and strange experiences, and adventures full of excitement both on land and sea. The volume has some exciting illustrations. "

 _The English Churchman_ says:--"A good story of adventure. "

 _The Liverpool Courier_ says:--"This is a stirring tale of an adventurous voyage in which exciting incidents follow one another in rapid succession. "

+DUCK-LAKE. Stories of the Canadian Backwoods. +

By E. RYERSON YOUNG, With Seven Illustrations by J. MACFARLANE. Largecrown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 

 _The Sheffield Daily Independent_ says:--"It is a spirited story of the Canadian backwoods, in three sections. The characters include Canadian settlers and North American Indians. A number of well-drawn illustrations assist the young reader to realise the physical type of the people who move in the story. "

 _The Dundee Courier_ says:--"A sectional story of the Canadian backwoods and admirably told. The bush life of the settlers is pictured with a graphic pen, and there are a number of sensational episodes, a bear hunt among the number. "

THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY, LONDON. 

 * * * * *

THE BOY'S OWN SERIES. 

+THE SETTLERS OF KAROSSA CREEK, and Other Stories of Australian BushLife. +

 By LOUIS BECKE, author of "Tom Wallis, " "Wild Life in the Southern Seas, " etc. , etc. With Three Illustrations by J. FINNEMORE, R. I. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 

 "The Settlers of Karossa Creek" is a rattling yarn which proves conclusively that the right hand of Louis Becke has not lost its cunning. It is a book that all healthy-minded boys will revel in, full of stirring adventures relating to the bush life of Australia and the islands of the Pacific. "The Settlers of Karossa Creek" will stir the blood of every lad and stimulate the impulses to patience, endurance, brave daring, and true knightliness. The health-giving fragrance of the sea and the free, glad, open life of new lands are in it from first page to last. 

+THE SPECIMEN HUNTERS. +

By J. MACDONALD OXLEY, B. A. , author of "North Overland with Franklin, ""Archie Mackenzie. " Illustrated. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 

 Mr. Macdonald Oxley, who knows so well how to tell a story of adventure and peril--here takes his young heroes out to India and the Far East, with a learned Professor whose duty it is to obtain specimens of beasts and birds. Their ramblings and the Professor's tasks bring them into a succession of highly critical situations, in which their lives are often in extreme peril. The qualities of self-control, manliness and courage are in constant demand. Boys and girls--more especially those with a taste for travel and natural history--should find the book "irresistible. "

+THE ADVENTURES OF TIMOTHY. +

By E. C. KENYON. With Four Illustrations. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. 

 A story of adventure during the great Civil War, when King Charles I. And his Parliament resorted to the arbitrament of the sword to decide who should have the mastery. The hero is a Roundhead, and the heroine is a charming young person, whose hand a hard-hearted guardian seeks to dispose of in a manner to which her heart consents not. The author is not carried into any excess of partisanship, though his sympathies are obvious, and we can confidently recommend the story as a very good specimen of grand historical romance. The air resounds to the clashing of swords--so to say--but the love element occupies the place of supreme interest throughout, and will hold the interest of the reader without fail. 

THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY, LONDON. 

 * * * * *

STORIES FOR BOYS. 

+THROUGH FIRE and THROUGH WATER. A Story of Adventure and Peril. +

By T. S. MILLINGTON, author of "Straight to the Mark, " etc. With SixteenIllustrations. Large crown 8vo, 2s. 

 _The School Guardian_ says:--"To boys who like plenty in their books and that of a decidedly stirring order, 'Through Fire and Through Water' may be highly commended. Jack Smith's ambition to be a sailor and how it was finally gratified notwithstanding the obstacles that intervene, his capture by Algerian pirates, and his subsequent rescue. .. . The story never flags for a moment; it goes with a swing from start to finish. "

_The Story of Chalmers' Adventurous Life told for Boys. _

+TAMATE: The Life and Adventures of a Christian Hero. +

By RICHARD LOVETT, M. A. , author of "James Chalmers: his Autobiographyand Letters, " etc. With Two Maps and Fifteen Illustrations by J. FINNEMORE, R. I. , printed in double tone ink. "Christian Heroes" Series, No. 1. Large crown 8vo, Cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 _The Christian Leader_ says:--"The story of the great New Guinea missionary and explorer cannot be told too often. Here it is told to boys, and it will be strange indeed if it does not at once prove a real success. James Chalmers was as brave a man as ever lived. His exploits and hairbreadth escapes were legion, and it is practically a series of these that are narrated in the present volume, with all the rapidity and spirit that the boyish temper loves. The writer has to some extent made use of the materials already drawn up for his biography, but he has had access also to letters and diaries hitherto unpublished, and from these vivid pages we gain a clearer idea than ever of his hero. A lion-hearted soul! The boy reader will find him irresistible. "

+CONDEMNED TO THE GALLEYS. The Adventures of a French Protestant. +

By JEAN MARTEILHE. With Seven Illustrations by E. Barnard Lintott. "Christian Heroes" Series, No. 2. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. 

 _The Expository Times_ says:--"Let the boy who wants authentic history and excitement combined read 'Condemned to the Galleys, ' by Jean Marteilhe. "

 _The Northern Whig_ says:--"It is a most interesting and reliable work, giving a story which reads like the most fascinating fiction, but is really the genuine history of the sufferings and adventures of a young Protestant. "

THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY, LONDON. 

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Every Boy's Bookshelf. 

_A New Series of Eighteenpenny Stories for Boys, full of stirringadventure. Each with two illustrations in colours and coloured medallionon cover. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 1s. 6d. _

+SKYLARK: His Deeds and Adventures. + By M. GENESTE. With two colouredillustrations by W. E. WIGFULL. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 1s. 6d. 

 Skylark, so named from his propensity for 'larking' and practical joking, is not only a favourite at school on account of his sunny disposition, but a real influence for good because of the uniform 'straightness' of his conduct. His adventures include a fire at the school, in which he nearly perishes, and being kidnapped and carried off to France, having stumbled on evidence tending to identify the authors of a burglary. Altogether the book is full of incident. 

+CAVE PERILOUS: A Tale of the Bread Riots. + By L. T. MEADE. With twocoloured illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 1s. 6d. 

 A very brightly written tale, full of incident and adventure, of English life nearly a century ago. 

 _The Scotsman_ says: 'A spirited and interesting tale of adventure in which a boy and girl, shut up in a wild cave, but sustained by a sturdy piety, contrive not only to extricate themselves, but to discover and recover a lost parent who had been kidnapped. It is written with a catching vivacity, and is sure to be a favourite with young readers. '

+THE TURQUOISE RING. + By IDA LEMON. With two coloured illustrations. Crown8vo, cloth gilt, 1s. 6d. 

 A brightly written story that will hold the boy reader's attention all through. It is full of incident, and is told with the author's well-known skill. 

+OLD SCHOOLFELLOWS AND WHAT BECAME OF THEM. + With two colouredillustrations by J. H. VALDA. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 1s. 6d. 

 A book that will delight both old and new schoolfellows. A number of old schoolfellows find themselves established not far from each other, and form a society for relating their own adventures and the adventures of schoolmates known to them. The stories are capitally told, and in the Captain's Story, the Lawyer's Story, the Doctor's Story, &c. , &c. , we are given striking examples of what the boy may become if he starts with the right motives. Also several disastrous failures give necessary warnings against laxity of conduct and morals. 

LONDON: THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY.