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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/22886.txt b/22886.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4866ac3 --- /dev/null +++ b/22886.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8151 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Cinderella in the South, by Arthur Shearly +Cripps + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Cinderella in the South + Twenty-Five South African Tales + + +Author: Arthur Shearly Cripps + + + +Release Date: October 5, 2007 [eBook #22886] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CINDERELLA IN THE SOUTH*** + + +E-text prepared by Charles Klingman + + + +CINDERELLA IN THE SOUTH + + +New York Agents +Longmans, Green & Co. +Fourth Avenue and 30th Street + + +CINDERELLA IN THE SOUTH + +South African Tales + +by + +ARTHUR SHEARLY CRIPPS + +Author of 'Faerylands Forlorn,' +'Lyra Evangelistica,' Etc. + + + + + + + +Oxford +B. H. Blackwell, Broad Street +MCMXVIII + + + +To C. H. CRIPPS + +FRIEND AND KINSMAN. + +Grace me these veld spoils rude with name of thine! +Mine's been the luck not thine these long years now +To tread the veld. What other use had'st thou, +Hunter and Horseman, made of chances mine! +Nor horns nor heads have I to give to thee, +Yet spoils of sorts veld spoils I bring with me. + +A. S. C. + +Eukeldoorn, Mashonaland. + +October 11th, 1917. + + + + + +CONTENTS + + PROLOGUE + + THE THING THAT HATH BEEN + + NEW LIGHT ON AN OLD CHAMPION + + FUEL OF FIRE + + 'LA BELLE DAME' + + THE SCENTED TOWN + + THE PLACE OF PILGRIMAGE + + THE LEPER WINDOWS + + THE BURNT OFFERING + + EIGHTY-EIGHT IN LAVENDER + + DIVINATION + + JULIAN + + THE DOUBLE CABIN + + INTELLIGENCE + + A CREDIT BALANCE + + MAN'S AIRY NOTIONS + + PISGAH + + A LION IN THE WAY + + AS TREES WALKING + + THE BLACK DEATH + + AN OLD-WORLD SCRUPLE + + FOR HIS COUNTRY'S GOOD + + LE ROI EST MORT + + THE RIDING OF THE RED HORSE + + THREE AND AFRICA + + OUR LADY OF THE LAKE + + EPILOGUE + + + + + + +PROLOGUE + +[AFRICA AND HER SISTERS.] + +Some fifteen years now I have been her guest, +For all this land's hers, tho' she does not reign. +She's but a ward, at what late age she'll gain +Her freedom and her kingdom, it were best +To risk no surmise rash. E'en now she's drest +Sometimes in skins. Give her ground-nuts and grain, +Cattle and thatch'd hut, then she'll not complain, +She's happier-hearted than her Sisters blest. + +Her Sisters blest! Of them what shall I say? +I like them better when they keep away, +And toil in their own lands, not loll in hers. +They use her ill. She's not so old as they. +She drudges for them. But her youth confers +A charm on her they've lost these many years. + + + + +THE THING THAT HATH BEEN + +What's the good of him?' said the bar-tender to me. 'If he could +tell us how the Ruins came he might be worth a forty-pound cheque +every month, or at least a twenty one. But he can't.' + +We were discussing the new appointment of a Government Curator at +the Mabgwe Ruins. I approved it, the bar-tender did not. I +pleaded that he was a bit exacting, that the Curator had a very +cold scent to puzzle out, and that he had tried plodding about +from ruins to ruins, moling and sapping and mining, not to speak +of writing to the Rhodesian Press. Afterwards I shouldered my +knapsack, sought counsel with my carriers as to ways and means, +crossed the river and took the Ruins road. A motor-car hurtled +past me when I was within two miles. Its driver had been pointed +out to me as a Jo'burg magnate; his passengers I did not know, +but I was soon to know them. I was the first to reach the Ruins +after all; for their arrival time being one o'clock, and their +halting-place a hotel. Civilization demanded that they should +lunch there. + +I drank from the fair water by the temple's western approach, and +sat down to smoke under a tree in the precincts. The big cone of +the main tower was just in sight. I had seen the walls before, +and was in no analytical mood; synthesis was enough for me. I +took in with my delighted eyes a roofless dome worthy to be a +temple of some sort, even if it were not, a blue roof that +bettered mere human aspiration, debris testifying to earthly +incompleteness, a broken column with its memento mori all these +were simmering in my vision and my judgment. I half dozed until +the voices of the lunchers began to interest me. They were doing +the rounds rather hastily, lunch having cut into their time, so +short at its very best. + +A Church dignitary from our own territory was with them. He +introduced himself to me, and he also introduced an engineer. He +was a patriotic Rhodesian, that dignitary, and denounced McIver, +who had dared to assign to the Ruins a native origin. + +'Such nonsense!' he said. 'Believe me, my dear sir, I know the +natives, and I know the natives never built these walls. Poor +creatures; they want firm handling, don't they? They're always in +want of bossing-up. But as for this display of art, they haven't +it in them, and they never had.' + +The engineer did not seem interested in what was said, or in what +I answered. He was a man of few words. He went off to the eastern +wall, whither we followed him. I found him poking about there +with a stick. The Jo'burg charioteer was soon fussing along, +hurrying on tea-time. 'He didn't want to get a dose of fever this +trip,' he said. He had heard about our unhealthy season up north, +and the month was now April. He wanted to be back by sunset. So +it came to pass that his party went off to tea with but side-glances +at the hill-fastness. + +'I'm neither a baboon nor a nigger,' said their host, when I +proposed that he should go up. After all, it was good-natured of +him to motor the dignitary out, I considered. He himself affected +no sort of interest in antiquities, and the dignified antiquarian +under his care was so wearily keen. I went to tea with them, +postponing my reveries to camping time and night. It was not +until we were eating guavas at the end of our meal that the +engineer came in. Then the Jo'burger told him to hurry up, and +went off to cherish his car. As to the engineer, his scanty +tea-time was not left in peace. The dignitary lectured him on the +true and patriotic theory of Ophir, on Astarte's worship, and +Solomon's gold. He answered very little, but he hinted that there +were difficulties. His lecturer glowed, and appealed to the +Curator, who had just come in, bent and shaken with fever. +Unhappily, yet happily for me, he trod on one of the curator's +archaeological corns and involved himself in an apology. Before +he was out of the wood I had asked the engineer a question or +two. + +'No time to talk now,' he said, 'too much cackle. Come and see me +in the town. Or, if I miss you there, I may see you on the road, +mayn't I? I'm due out your way in three days.' + +Soon after he was petroled away. I went to camp in a clearing, to +sup, to smoke, to read my guidebook. At last the night aged, and +the moon rose. My carriers slept. I looked up in the night's +starred face and beheld 'Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance' +there. But would I ever live to trace them by 'the magic hand of +chance,' as Keats called the grace of God? I began again to +mumble the lines of my guide-book, and found them rather bare and +dry. I looked up at the vast tapering walls. Why was there no +script there? After all, that trenchant argument outweighed a +many arguments; it scaled up like Brennus's sword, and made for a +clear issue. I looked at the sleeping carriers. Did they hold the +secret, not in tradition, not in history, but in the fleshy +tables of the heart and brain and aspiration of their race? I +went to sleep and dreamed of men building, building, building. +They were building stone kraals for their sacred trusts of kine, +chipping and carving away at their totem hawks and their +crocodiles, breaking limbs and necks over a sky-high tower, with +stones for their bricks, and no slime to make them mortar. How +they sang over their work, and how it grew! Talk of Troy's walls; +if only Kaffirs would start building a Troy, or a Palace of Art, +or a Spiritual City, how the work would go forward to the music +of them! I could hear all the parts in their melodies the +checking and countering and refrains and responses of them. But, +before I woke, the parts were merged in full chorus. With that +unison music in my ears I rose and knelt and rose again hastily. +Then I ran round to the eastern wall under the zig-zag patterns. +I came only just in time to see the sunrise by so doing. + +It was three days after that I caught up Spenser, the Government +engineer. + +'I have seen buildings in North Africa,' he told me. 'They +weren't much like those at Mabgwe. In the north, if they built +with stones they built with great slabs. But those granite flakes +at Mabgwe were easy for a primitive people to manage a very +primitive people. Very primitive, or why did they build on sand +when, six inches deeper, they might have founded on bed-rock? +They didn't understand arches, seemingly. They weren't very +careful about bond in building, were they? Nor were they very +careful to break joint outside, much less inside, so far as I can +judge. And the script; where is it? And the graves; where are +they? If they were Semites, why didn't they write? If they were +Semites, why didn't they bury? . . . But it isn't as easy as it +looks, the riddle. There are one or two jagged ends that conical +tower, for instance.' + +We camped that evening near a Mission. I admired the oblong +iron-roofed church there. It wasn't my style of art, but it seemed +to me fair of its kind. + +'Quite good,' growled my expert friend, and he said no more at +the time. He spoke more freely over a last pipe. + +'I'm sorry,' he said, 'not to take more interest in this sort of +thing. Only, after all, it's African-built, and Europeans could +do the thing a bit better, couldn't they? This sort of thing +seems rather a wrong line of advance. If I hadn't seen Mabgwe so +lately I mightn't mind so much.' + +They showed us to a hut, a very clean one. 'That's better; that's +ever so much better,' he said. On the wall was a rude frieze in +Bushman painting style, but white, not red. I enlightened him as +to tsenza work, as to how you could use the cool watery roots +like crayons. + +'Why, that's surely Jezebel looking out of that grain-bin,' he +hazarded. 'But what are those?' + +'The dogs to eat her,' I answered. + +They were horrid little whelps with human heads. I told him about +certain night-fears common among natives. 'It was a solid +Christian who dared to paint these,' I surmised. + +'If you could only get Africans to believe what Christians +believed in the thirteenth century you might see signs and +wonders yet,' he said. + +He has not been our way again since April, but I met him at the +Pro-Cathedral Pageant in January. It was organized by a Pageant +Master, our mutual friend the dignitary. Therein Asia, King +Solomon and Sheba's Queen, were represented. Africa was relegated +to her proper Cinderella and Plantation Chorus part. 'Poor +creatures!' Spenser said, with a grimace, and winked at me. + +'Come, and I will show you a thing,' he said to me afterwards; 'a +thing I chanced on in the Christmas holidays. It's ten miles out. +I want to inspan at six sharp to-morrow.' + +I was guilty of three omissions next day. I cut a clerical +meeting; I flouted the True Romance in the shape of the Pageant's +second performance; I also missed the bazaar of St. Uriel's +Native Church that was held on the Pageant ground. St. Uriel's +structure had been put out to European contract; it was a very +didactic building, so the Pageant-Master told us. We passed it on +our way out to the kopje country. + +'About as sensuously lovely as a Pills' advertisement,' was +Spenser's comment. 'A good pity and terror purge.' + +I sighed indulgently. + +'It's very popular, I've heard, among the town boys. It's so very +European to native eyes, so extra corrugated and angular.' + +We came up at last to that which we sought a huge ellipse and +dome of stones and earth, rising and broadening under our very +eyes. It was on a farm among the granite hills, many miles from +Rosebery. 'It's only a glorified stone cattle-byre, and an +intensified stone Kaffir hut,' Spenser commented. 'It's not even +built the old Mabgwe way. These are only blocks of granite; a few +of them broken, but not one of them dressed. And there's lots of +mud to eke them out.' + +'Yet there's hope in the thing. It's not an artistic dead-end +like Saint Uriel's,' I pleaded. + +One or two Europeans, very unskilled ones I could see, had +planned this bit of work, and taken part in it. They had made +themselves at charges for it, though African gifts had not been +wanting. They had, so to speak, coaxed their African pack on to +try an old scent. Now the moving European spirit was gone home +for months to England. Before he went the former rains had ruined +some of the work. He had been too ambitious, too scornful of +delay. Forewarned by Africans, he had pressed to a midsummer +disaster. Now he had left Africans in charge. He had trusted them +to go on. One Christian, in particular, he had trusted his fellow +and his master in building. The boy had built at a colonial's +cattle-kraal once. His skill had multiplied as he built on at the +great church, and now he was a master craftsman. Doggedly he was +building up again the rain-ruined bastions. The work was going +with a swing, if a slow one. The scent was no longer a cold one. +The pack were belling and chiming over it, and they were running +with their huntsman out of sight. + +'I don't understand this bit of work properly,' Spenser said. +'What's made the dry bones live?' + +'Inspiration,' I said reverently. 'Looked at in one way it's Art. +Looked at all ways it's Religion. It's the same sort of thing as +went on, I suppose, when the faith of sun and moon was a power. +Now the faith of Christ is gathering force in the land. The land +isn't an Italy, and our twentieth century isn't that old +thirteenth century; yet look out for the signs and wonders you +spoke of. Likely enough they're to be expected.' + +We went to the Pageant Master's lecture on the Mabgwe Ruins that +night, when we had driven back to Rosebery. It was more +interesting to me as a subjective study than an objective display +of learning. + +'Poor creatures!' the lecturer said of the natives. 'Don't put +them in a false light. Whatever claims they may have to equable +treatment, they have no claim to be considered romantic. The +ancient romance of this country is the romance of a nobler race +the romance of the Tyrian trader, Tyrian or Sabaean. Allow me but +a trifling emendation, and Matthew Arnold's lines will serve to +indicate that romance.' Substituting 'Zambesians' for 'Iberians,' +he gave us the last lines of 'The Scholar Gipsy.' 'In that era of +Tyre's trade,' he concluded, 'I place the golden age of our +country a golden age which under our own Imperial rule begins +anew.' + +'H'm,' said Spenser. 'That live Mashona building-boy's worth many +dead Phoenicians to me, at any rate. As to defining romance, we'd +better agree to differ. 'Do well unto thyself, and all men will +speak well of thee,' he went on, with a tang of bitterness. +'Jew-boys and Arabs mopped up trade when they were living, now they +jump other men's kudos, being dead.' + +'Never mind.' I said. 'Art for Art's sake, aspiration for +aspiration's, faith for faith's! And some there be which have no +memorial; who are perished as though they had never been; and are +become as though they had never been born; and their children +after them.' + +'Never mind,' it was his turn to say. 'That granite kopje church +is rising, and Magbwe Ruins stand the quick and the dead. These +shall both come up for judgment and get justice. Yes, if they +have to wait for it till the Supreme Court of Alt holds session.' + + + +NEW LIGHT ON AN OLD CHAMPION + + + +We were going on an expedition long before the morning light +came. Our ship was an armed steamer a converted cargo boat. We +had reinforced our naval guns' crews and our Indian ship's guard +by taking officers and native soldiers (askaris) aboard at a +certain bay. We had reinforced our artillery by borrowing a Maxim +from the shore. I had a guest on board that night, a cheerful +padre. How he seemed to relish his craft, and how able I esteemed +him. I was very raw at the work, and he helped me to understand +what my defects were both in nature and grace. He had the +sort of smile, I thought the real, right sort to warm a naval +parishioner's heart. He was very keen on the new sort of thrills +and experiences that he had sought for himself by coming aboard. + +We reclined on camp beds high up on the bridge-deck, but we did +not drop asleep when the electric light failed and faded. We +asked each other's ages, and discussed parts of England as we had +known them in more peaceful days; then we assured one another +that we wanted to rise early. We were to steam off on our sudden +raid in the dark. Coffee had been ordered about 5:30; action +might be expected to begin not much later than 6 a.m. We speculated +as to whether it were true that our ship would have to face an +old field gun's fire on the morrow, as well as a Maxim's. I was +eloquent as I told how our four-inch gun might be expected to +shake the ship. After that, in the dimness we talked shop; we had +neither of us possibly had many easy openings for that ravishing +employment lately. + +Was it right to pray for our own side's success? I was steadfast +in my scruples as to praying thus, my new-found friend was +inclined to be a little scornful of them. 'Is there a God of the +Germans fighting the English tribal God?' I asked rather +irreverently, and my friend showed that he was shocked. I +apologized. 'Let's leave the Supreme Power out,' I said. 'Let's +consider the action of the saints in this war. Are they supposed +to be scrapping like the gods in Homer English Saint George +against German Saint Michael and so on?' But my friend did not +seem very keen about either Homer or hagiology. He explained that +he was a C.M.S. man, and not a medievalist. The discussion +languished, ere he murmured 'Good night.' + +I slept rather fitfully. I was awake long before the ship moved +away on her fierce errand. At last, when she had been steaming +some while, I stole down in the dark to the bathroom. When I came +out of it the grey twilight was beginning. I crept aft and looked +over the bulwark, wondering how far we were away now. The shore +Maxim was in place there with plenty of sand bags about it, but +the officer in charge of it was still stretched abed. His friend +the Intelligence Officer, who had messed with us last night, was +snoring on another bed beside him. I stood looking at a dusky +island in the moonlight, and began praying a favorite prayer of +mine for those times, asking God to let Saint Michael cover our +heads in the day of battle. I muttered the prayer very low, but +it appeared that somebody heard. A slim figure, seemingly in +khaki, that I had not noticed, rose up from a seal; on the sand +bags. + +'Are you praying something about battles?' it asked. I started, +and assented clumsily. + +'How does one pray about battles nowadays?' the investigator +proceeded. He spoke in the friendliest way, and managed to set +even me at ease. So I told him what I had prayed for. + +'It sounds a fair sort of prayer; better than some I've heard,' +he allowed, as he sat down again. 'Some people seem to forget the +last lot of the Books in the Bible when they pray nowadays.' I +heartily agreed. + +'I don't believe for one,' he went on, 'that Saint Michael is +passionately interested in wiping out either English or askaris +or Germans. It's surely better to pray about him like you prayed. +I should think the negative work appeals to him more than the +positive, the salvage more than the blotting.' + +His voice was clear, and evidently carried. The Maxim's warden +grumbled, and began to sit up in bed. + +'Possibly,' this disturber of slumber went on quite +unconcernedly, 'Saint Michael has a clearer notion as to the real +enemy than some clients who invoke him.' + +Then the officer in pyjamas accosted me, and the thread of the +other's talk was lost. When I moved off to dress he had already +left his perch among the sand bags. I climbed the ladder, and had +my coffee. Soon after came the scurry to stations. We were coming +into the bay in the glory of that morning under hangings of amber +and rose and feathery grey. The four-inch gun's crew were in +their places. I stood trying to read the Prayer before Action in +its very small print. I murmured what I was doing to my cheery +colleague, so much more enthusiastic than I was about what seemed +to be coming. Then someone came up and spoke to me. It was surely +my friend from the sand bags. I could see him properly now. He +was surely an officer. He stood up slender and shapely in his +khaki, but he was not wearing a single star or a regimental badge +of any kind. Had he forgotten these in the hurry of this eager +morning? With but a few words, he passed on towards the guns' +crews. Soon our four-inch gun was shaking the ship horribly. We +were shelling a trench that ran up a hillside, they said. I sat +under cover of the bulwark near some kneeling riflemen, far from +enjoying myself. Yet no gun roared back in answer to our own. It +seemed to be one-sided enough, this operation of war. + +'It's a fearful weapon,' remarked my colleague rather +complacently, as he paced towards the gun platform. One prayed +for those who were naked to its fearsomeness up on the hill +there, and prayed about Saint Michael's intervention to Saint +Michael's Commander-in-Chief. The long-drawn moments slurred by +us. A bell rang as the ship wound her way in slowly. The mournful +cry of him who took the soundings came again and again. Then we +stopped dead anew, and our gun's mouth roared and flamed. + +'Such a crowd of askaris; the hill's black with them!' So the +signalman cried to the doctor, as he sped by on a message. I was +interested in watching the gun-layer as he readjusted the dragon +mouth. But what had my friend of the sand-bags to do with the +matter? He moved among the gun's crew, and none said him nay; his +hands were on the gun after the accredited gunlayer's. We shelled +another position, and then another. Afterwards came a lull, and +some of us hurried up to breakfast. + +There was much talk there of the possible or probable slaughter +we had effected. Doubtless the store ship that had followed us +and hung behind us had served us well. Those on shore Had surely +been more disposed to hold to their positions, fearing that she +carried troops, and meant to land them. Now she was steaming +slowly away. How many did our bag amount to? The Intelligence +Officer was sanguine, so was my colleague, but the gunnery +officer was rather pessimistic. 'Two or three of those rounds +went just wrong,' he grunted. 'We've struck a bad day.' After +that the porridge and the bacon and the eggs were done with; we +were soon back at our stations. Once more our gun bombarded. Once +more no answer came. Now occurred the cruise of the motor boat; +the best adventure of the day so far, as it seemed to me. + +The boat was lowered, and the shore Maxim mounted in it. Sand +bags were piled up in plenty. A Naval Reserve officer, fair-haired +and young faced, sprang in to join the gun's officer. There was +also a British bluejacket ready to go, and there were African +soldiers and sailors, as well as the two engine-men, English and +Goanese. They were to beat up the river, and hunt down canoes, +should any appear. + +My heart thrilled as I uttered God-speed to the Maxim warden. I +think he was unmarried, but his fellow officer was both husband +and father; they might have a fiery time in front. Last my +graceful friend, with no stars or badges on his khaki, slipped +into the boat. He seemed to come and go as he liked, and none +refused his services. The boat hummed away from us, past some +rocks, and round a headland into the unseen. Then our ship +traveled on slowly, before she stopped and fired again. She shot +away many rounds that time. I was sick and weary of the firing as +I sat on the deck by the doctor's cabin. My colleague was much +more alert and cheerful. He had secured a shell-case by the naval +commander's bounty. 'They make such splendid trophies,' he told +me. But I did not covet one much. I thought of how such war +trophies were in demand for Christmas decoration vases in a +church by the lakeside. I also thought of the quite possible +horror and havoc of shattered askaris' bodies that those splendid +trophies might be supposed to have wrought. How one thought +besides of the adventurers in that whizzing motor-boat during +that next half-hour. But as it turned out, according to their +disappointed report, not a shot was fired at them. + +'We let fly with the Maxim at some natives and one European on +shore,' the gun-worker shouted, as they drew up at the ship's +side. 'We saw some canoes, three of them. Askaris were in them, +and urging the paddlers on. Then, of all times, the Maxim took it +into its head to jam badly. So we didn't get them.' I happened to +catch my friend in khaki's eye as the other lamented. He looked +quite cheerful about things, while the other went on, 'We'd have +sunk the lot, if it hadn't jammed just then.' + +The thought flickered into my mind as to whether anybody was +responsible for that singular coincidence. I looked in my +friend's face with some sort of an uneasy question. But he only +smiled. His face was strangely prepossessing, so entirely +fearless, yet not the least truculent. His brown eyes and boy's +lips answered my question with the most engaging of smiles. Those +brown eyes assorted piquantly with his very fair hair. He had +pushed his white helmet far back on his yellow head. Half an hour +later we were in our action stations once more. Our riflemen were +firing at individual askaris (were they all askaris, and not +unhappy villagers?) who could be descried upon the shore. The +signalman, passing by again, snatched a rifle and fired just +beside me. One of the Maxims meanwhile was working away grimly, +the officer's face was set firm as he steadied his coughing +machine. Then it was that I saw my unattached friend step towards +him, and take up his stand behind him. Ping! A bullet came just +over the gun-director's head. 'That was a near shave,' the +warrant officer told me afterwards. 'Someone aimed too high, or +he'd have got him that worked the gun.' + +Yet it was a mystery to me why the bullet did not get that +handsome head behind and above him, the head that I reflected had +doubtless helped to draw the fire so high. He who had exposed +himself came to me untouched. 'It looked near,' he allowed to me +smiling. He stayed by us for the rest of that fell morning. He +smiled, and bade me cheer up, when the naval commander went by; +had he not twitted me for sitting safe under the bulwark and +wincing when the four-inch gun roared? He smiled also a little +ironically when my colleague came up, still fondling his trophy +and dilating on its splendor. Then he smiled again and again as +he moved behind him to and fro on the deck, watching him in the +pitiless firing. He smiled moreover when he moved up to the gun; +he was revising the gunlayer's work now and then, so far as I +could make out his movements. He smiled afterwards when the +Intelligence Officer made such sanguine estimates of the +slaughter we had dealt out to forts and trenches. They were +talking together, he and his comrade of the Maxim gun, discussing +whether the bag was really a big one, the former as glib with the +pros as the latter was with the cons. The tall listener smiled +rather wistfully as he heard them. After the last round from the +six-pounder had been fired, before we went to lunch, he came up +and said farewell to me. 'But I shall see you again on board, +shan't I?' I asked. 'We shan't put you off at the Bay till nearly +sunset, shall we?' 'I may be getting off long before then,' he +said, but he did not explain how. My prayer book had fallen on +the deck, and he picked it up and gave it to me. 'Mind you keep +to your own line,' he said. 'I like that prayer in your prayer +book about Saint Michael. Doubtless he's covered not a few +people's heads in this day of battle, not all of them on the one +side. It's likely enough he has unearthly notions about war, as +he's an unearthly being. Perhaps the dragon he makes war on, war +to the death, is neither England nor Germany, but just the +scrapping between them.' + +'What do you mean?' I asked, rather puzzled. Yet he only smiled, +he was not very explicit. + +'Oh, by the way,' he said. 'They tell me you've promised to build +a mission church to Saint Michael if you get back to the south +safe and sound.' I wondered afterwards who they were that had +told him. + +'Yes, I said, 'and if I don't, the building of it's endowed in my +will.' + +'Why not take the shell-cases,' he said, 'if they offer you some? +You needn't use them in your church as altar-vases. They'd +make a splendid trophy under Saint Michael's feet, a gleaming, +sleek-barreled serpent of slaughter, just the sort of dragon for +him to tread, and delight in treading. Good-bye.' + +He was gone amongst the sailors, just as the steward called me up +to the cold soup. I saw no more of him on the voyage, nor have I +seen him since that September day. The one or two I asked about +him seemed not to know whom I meant. I have often wondered who he +was since then, and have framed a theory. Perhaps you can guess +what it is without my needing to write it down. + + + +FUEL OF FIRE + + + +I was lucky to get a lift. We had risen before the moon took to +her bed, and the sun had left his. We were driving through green +woodlands when the light grew clear around us. A little while ago +their graceful trees had been ruddy or bronze doubtless. Now it +was the turn of the hill-trees on the great kopje that we passed +within a mile, to grow bronzed and to redden. For the month of +November had only just come in. We outspanned in a valley where +the new green of the grass had come already. No doubt a month ago +it had looked very black and fire-scathed. Now the showers had +brought kind healing and amendment. We made our morning Memorial +together (being all of us Christians bound on some sort of a +Christian pilgrimage), and after that we breakfasted and smoked +at ease while the mules grazed close by, and the driver boiled +his pot, and fed it with meal, and stirred and ladled out, and +ate in the fullness of time. My heart was very thankful. How much +better and kindlier one's lot seemed now fallen as it was once +again in this fair ground of a country at peace in Wartime. This +countryside pleased me ever so much better than British East or +German East this Mashonaland. There to north I remembered without +enthusiasm the tropical passions of the elements, I remembered +rather miserably some of the things that a state of war had +meant. + +After breakfast, there was no hurry about our inspanning. But +when we had once got off we were soon up level with the farmhouse +on the hill's shoulder. We halted for friendship's sake, and +waited for the cups of coffee that we were assured would be soon +ready. Our host was Dutch-looking, but seemed British; I thought +rather narrowly British in his sympathies. He discussed the War +keenly and thoughtfully with my companion. He had two brothers in +German East, I knew, and he was soon asking me about them. But +our paths up that way had not converged. I could only tell him by +hearsay about the main advance, wherein they had been sharing, +and I had not. As I told, a dark handsome, gentle-voiced woman +brought our coffee out. Soon a shy little girl put her head round +the corner of the stoep, and withdrew' it again. I jumped down to +greet her. Then she agreed to come and shake hands with us both. +Her father colored up, and smiled as he told me of a great +scheme. A lady in town had offered to board this child. So kind, +wasn't it? She was of sturdy English make (her father's father +was an Essex man. I had been told). Her hair and eyes were very +dark; she looked ever so capable. + +'Yes, very kind,' I murmured, but I was reflecting that the +lady's kindness might not be so very ill-rewarded. The child +might prove useful and cost little. She might give the sort of +help that is apt to be useful and costly in a country like ours. +'Yes,' said the father smiling, 'and she may get to the day +school that way, the lady says. We couldn't have nearly afforded +to send her into town otherwise. But now she's got her chance of +a regular school.' 'Oh, really,' said my friend. His kind ugly +face looked none too pleasant as he said it, I remember noticing +that. + +Then he went to his mules to 'buckle' up a strap somewhere. I was +surprised to hear him cursing something under his breath. It was +not his manner, I thought, to curse straps or mules. We said +good-bye a very cordial one and then drove down towards the main +road. It winds through a vlei towards the town. We had got almost +to the big water-course so banked up in thirsty sand, when he +told me what he was cursing. He repeated his words deliberately: +'Damn it, damn it to hell,' he said. I protested faintly till he +made it clear to me what he was damning, then I recklessly +endorsed his damnation. For he was not cursing Heaven or +humanity; he was cursing that blessed Anglo-Dutch, or rather +Dutch-English, institution of South Africa, the color-bar. He had +been told by one of the managers that should the father apply for +admission to school on behalf of the child we had seen, he would +be certainly refused. The father was really much too poor to send +her away, he told me. + +'They're ever so honest and hard-worked. They've put up a great +fight on mealie meal against bad seasons. They've pinched hard +for the child's poor little outfit. He's got into debt for it. +He's a Britisher, and has got two brothers fighting. Very +dubious, dark children have been admitted already, as presumably +Dutch. Dutch and colonials rule the roost here. And to leave +Christianity alone, where does British Imperialism come in? It's +risking spoiling a life, and the life of such a decent kid.' + +Thereat he certainly condemned guiltily, as he should not have +condemned, Dutchmen and colonials, their churches, their social +order, and their sanctimony. 'Thank God I was at plebeian +Oxford,' he said, 'and was free to mix with colored men. This is +far more select, this dorp academy, with its elect Principal and +its supermen-managers.' We nearly had a row about his language. + +We came over a rolling down towards the commonage. 'They've kept +free from fires here,' I said. 'Yes,' he said, 'but I'm doubtful +if their vigilance pays, if their game's worth the candle. I mean +if such absence of illumination is worth all their watching +about.' 'It saves waste of life.' I said, 'animal and vegetable, +if you can only keep the fires away.' I appealed to the wisdom of +our laws as well as to the argument of mercy which I appealed to +me. 'And you get that sort of thing.' he said, pointing to the +thick brown tufts of unappetizing feed. 'That's been going more +than a year, hasn't it? 'Oh for a wind and a fire,' say I. + +We passed over the commonage, which showed very black with recent +fires. 'It looks rather knocked out,' I said. 'Yet not without +hope,' he answered. We were driving back about the same time next +fore-noon. A great fire was rushing wind-driven over that rolling +upland. 'At last,' he said. I sighed. A mile further on we came +into the smiling green vlei. 'This was black a while back,' he +said. 'Doesn't the fire help a bit after all? Who wants that +moldy stuffy old feed, isn't it parabolic of that fusty Dutch-Anglo +dorp and its prejudices? What are they meant for, and it? +'Fuel of fire,' say I.' I smiled indulgently. Since we had got +into town things had happened. We had had our memorial services +for the Dead that last night, and this same morning. It was the +week of All Hallows and All Souls, a time that often tempts me to +homesickness. One is apt to think of hazy, yellow-leaved, dreamy +times in old England just about then not to speak of old familiar +faces. That night of the first Service was very starry, and the +morning of the second Service was brilliantly clear, the rain +seemed to be very far away for the time being. People had come at +night rather well. Not to speak of one of the school managers +having died quite recently, news of one of our police's death out +scouting had leaked through from German East. I preached Paradise +to that attentive congregation in the iron-roofed church that +natives had been so discouraged from attending. I was glad one +straggled into the back seats I had battled for, just to +demonstrate one's principle of barring out the color-bar. It was +all very soul-soothing, thought I, that Memorial Evensong, the +stars outside, and the golden evening brightening in the west of +the hymn, and the lesson about white robes and palms, presumably +of victory or harvest-homing. My friend waited for me outside +under the lamp. 'Very fine,' he said in his grimmest way, 'the +Anglican view of hopeful souls turned promiscuously into a sort +of orchard and rose-garden with plenty of light to gild them, and +rest to wrap them.' I smiled. 'True enough in its way,' I said. +'There's another side doubtless, yet the preaching of that +doesn't appeal to me particularly. I don't want to work on +people's apprehensions. But don't let me stand in your light. +You're a lay reader with a bishop's license. You can preach and +welcome to-morrow morning.' 'Trust me not to refuse,' he said. 'I +don't want to play up to apprehensions exactly. I want to state +what seem to me to be relentless laws of cause and effect, and to +show the only way with any sort of hope in Christ that I happen +by faith to see.' So he had preached that morning. He preached +quite simply on the trying of every man's work, on the burning of +flimsy work, on the saving of the workman, yet so as by fire. +There was a small but select gathering in the Church of Saint +Tertullian; two of the school managers even were there. Surely I +had baited the trap, I thought guiltily as I looked upon them, +by my over-amiabilities of the night before. + +Yet that side was true enough, the side I had preached. And was +not this side also true in its way? The preacher seemed at first +to be referring to my own obsession with the words 'resist not +evil,' my following of Tolstoy in my own evangel. He was warm in +his commendation. 'And yet,' he said, 'let us remember a just +God's resistance to evil. He resists and judges righteously, +where we may neither resist nor judge. If we agree not to resist +evil violently for Jesus' sake, yet ought we not to warn people +of their God's unrelenting resistance? While we would not obscure +the fear of our just God by the fear of us unjust men, let us +remember our just God!' He spoke of judgment and of purgation, of +what seemed to be indicated hereafter by the stupidity and +cruelty of people's prejudices in South Africa. He painted quite +luridly the purgation he anticipated as likely for such as would +dare to wreck a child's education, and possibly her life for a +color-scruple. He glowed and kindled. There was no mistaking his +drift. He painted the fires of purgation. He painted, too, their +presumable fuel, much as I believe old preachers limned the +flames of hell and their denizens. 'And it may lengthen out into +hell! Who knows?' he kept interjecting. 'Who knows but that that +prejudiced spirit you play with may be a damned spirit after all, +fuel for the fire that is not quenched, food for the worm that +does not die?' + +T could not have preached happily on his lines, but for all that +I acknowledged that the thing might well be of God this bizarre +surprise at his preaching that was glassed in at least two of his +listeners' eyes. Did that sermon do any good? Let me anticipate! +The child came into town as a half-time servant. Somebody's +letter got handed up to the Administrator, and he made a request +to the managers. The child was clearly European by predominance +of race. They spent five hours of their precious time in +discussion. The officials wanted to oblige the Administrator, and +they had their way at last. But whether the child once admitted +will have much of a time, I am inclined to doubt, should she pass +into the Paradise of so select an academy. I heard an ominous +story of the Dutch minister last week, how he had threatened a +hiding to any child of his that spoke to this forlorn little +girl, who seems hard up for playmates. I heard yesterday that one +of my Church magnates had asked that the child should not come up +to play with his own. Yet the Fire of God has been preached, and +I am willing to allow that the thing may have wanted doing rather +badly in my amiable parish. Doesn't any real true Christian Peace +Doctrine mean spiritual fire and sword? Doesn't it mean burning +and fuel of fire as set against the confused noise and garments +rolled in blood of earthly campaigns? Doesn't any real true +Christian Imperialism mean the sword of the Spirit and the fire +of the Gospel against South African Racialism? Perfect love +casteth out fear, but what has Racialism to do with such a +perfect love as will banish the fear of God? + +After all, can any reasonable and lively Christian Faith avail to +find any evangelically reasonable destination short of hell for +South African Racialists dying in their Racialism save such place +of purgation as my friend indicated? Yes, of course, God's +prerogative of mercy in Jesus is limitless, but are these +Racialists so merciful to little colored children that they +should obtain mercy without judgment from Jesus' judgment? + +And if the purgative fire seem so inevitable, why not warn its +prospective fuel? + +Granted the Love of Jesus (Who was certainly what South Africans +would call a Jew Boy, Who was possibly so dark that any dorp +school would have hummed over His admission, Who enrolled Himself +in that House of David one of Whose ancestresses was the Hamitic +Rahab apparently, Who took Ham's curse as well as Japheth's); +granted that that Love is the one and only supreme motive for +Christian Reform, yet for all that, facts are facts, and it may +be kind to tell people into what fires the fires of Racialism +threaten to merge their selves. On the whole, I am glad that our +lay reader preached on that bright morning that over-gloomed +sermon, preaching from my own soothing pulpit to my startled +congregation. They did not seem to know what to make of it. But +the preacher himself seemed quite unrepentant about it. He was +talking to me about it that morning when we drove home again, he +to his farm and I with him, to walk on to my mission. We +outspanned in a very green valley, I remember, and sat long over +roast monkey-nuts that his driver benignantly provided. + +'The Lord put a word into my mouth,' my friend said quite firmly +and simply. 'Was there not the cause the cause of a child's +career? Didn't our Savior speak plainly as to the ugly analogy of +the man drowned like a dog with a stone round his neck in the +deep of the sea? Weren't His children in question when Jesus +spoke; wasn't there a Christian child in question when I +preached?' + +I thought he made out something of a case for his position as a +preacher of fiery doom. We were sitting on a beautiful green +carpet. The Earth there had come through her bad time. Away +on the hillside a black forbidding patch testified to the +unpleasantness of the remedial stage. Away in the distance was a +beautiful tree-shaded granite hill with much show of brown +foliage and purplish underspaces. Just beside that hill the +flames came driving (through the old last year's feed, I +suppose). His eyes followed mine the way of the flames. 'Hurray!' +he said heartily. 'Now we shan't be so very long surely after +all. Don't you see the green grass on its way? It was a snug +corner, verily, for the old dry stuff. Look, how the flames leap +up in the thick of it! Not very juicy browse nor tasty feed, but +fine fuel for the fire; good for that, anyway. It was a snug +corner, but at last the time was ripe when the fire came driving +straight for it the fire with the wind behind. 'Which things are +a parable,' he said, his ugly sunburnt face twitching curiously, +his eyes quite handsome, nay, even splendid with honest scorn. He +was shaking his fist towards the prim little dorp that we had +left behind over the ridges. 'No doubt but ye are the people,' he +said, 'ye that have made the freedom of England and the franchise +of Jesus of no effect by your tradition your sacrosanct +tradition. What's the good of the frowsy old stuff? It must be +some good; what is it? It isn't very good pasture for sheep or +horses, not to speak of dairy cattle, but it's noble food for +fire, don't you think? + +There it lies-up so snug and sheltered and screened the old dead +survival hidden in the prim little corrugated iron-roofed houses, +and the narrow gumtree avenues, and the whitewashed Dutch +tabernacle where they sing "Safe in the Arms of Jesus" (would you +believe it?) But the time will come, it mayn't come in my day or +in yours, but the time will come sure enough, when the Fire will +trek dead straight for this old dead-ripe stuff, the Fire with +the Wind behind. Then God have mercy on them whose work it was! +For their work shall be burnt, aren't we sure of that? But as to +they themselves being the sort to be saved so as by fire can we +be so very sanguine? Meanwhile. . . . . . . + +The way he so humbly appealed to me for my opinion on that moot +point, did much to conciliate me. He had not carried me with him +all the while. He seemed to me a bit out of date, too like an +ante-Christian prophet. Yet how my heart went out to him as he +ended up so very abruptly with his 'meanwhile.' His voice broke +queerly, and his eyes shone. 'Meanwhile they may manage to give a +child or two a rough passage. They've got pluck enough for that, +the blighters, haven't they?' He turned away from me with a sort +of a sob. 'The time'll come sure enough, but it's their time now, +and they know it,' he said. 'God pity her!' + + + +'LA BELLE DAME' + + + +Inhabiting this country you inhabit the Middle Ages, you dwell in +the wild Marchlands without the pale of Christendom. Here a man +may take to the forest roads in the old spirit of errantry. How +darkly the shadow of witchcraft falls upon the path; we might be +in Lapland or Thessaly! What strange satyr voices the drums have +of nights! I suppose it is the reading about such things long ago +that gives me this sense of having been here before, of having +come back to this country!' + +His eyes glistened as he sat over his wine, and smoked Transvaal +tobacco in a calabash pipe. He looked much more as he used to +look twenty years back, I thought. I had deemed him aged almost +out of recognition when first we sat down to dinner. He had come +up to Mashonaland with some learned association on a holiday +trip. His name was Gerald Browne; he had lectured on English +literature these many years in an ancient northern university. + +With him came his wife, a very plain and quiet lady, and also an +undergraduate pupil named Drayton. + +I was asked to meet them, and to stay in the same house with them +by a certain minor potentate of Rosebery, who had had rooms near +Browne's and mine in years gone by. It was Saturday night, and I +had just come in from the veld, while Browne's party had reached +Rosebery by the morning train. Dinner had gone rather quietly, +and our host had looked bored, I thought. Then, when the ladies +had left us, Browne had kindled up, and we all three had a +glorious hour, voicing the praises of Africa in a sort of +three-man descant or glee. Meanwhile the fourth man, Drayton, a +dark, plump and smiling youth, listened to us with a charming air +of respectful attention. Transvaal tobacco was good, and the talk +was good, though I say it who should not. Drayton's silence +was also good, a very complimentary silence with a distinct +character, as it seemed to me. On Sunday after lunch this youth +came for a walk with me, while the Brownes and our host reclined. + +'Mr. Browne's got a sort of call to the Simple Life,' he suddenly +blurted out with a grin. 'It's even money on his selling up at +Oxford and coming out here for good. What's going to happen to +Mrs. Browne, I wonder?' + +I laughed, as I thought he expected me to do. + +'He seems rather smitten,' I admitted. 'He certainly raved a bit +last night; but, then, so many people do that when they first +come out.' + +Drayton looked at me as if he might have said much more. But I +changed the subject; it never occurred to me then that it might +be a thrilling one. I went home later on and sat on the stoep and +talked to my host. Browne had very little to say. He went off for +a sunset walk, and never came to church at night. We sat up in +the moonlight waiting for him afterwards. He came in at last and +joined us on the stoep, but he was very silent. He would not have +any supper. He smoked away furiously till bed-time. + +I arranged a riding trip for all three visitors next morning. +They were to off-saddle under some high kopjes about ten miles +from town; they were to have a picnic and an amazing view. I +could not go myself, as I had an appointment to keep. But I sent +two Mashona boys to be their retinue; one of them was Johannes, +my own right hand at home. I solemnly entrusted the strangers and +their steeds to his keeping. + +When I came in about sunset that Monday evening they had not +returned. But before the daylight failed, three of them were back +Mrs. Browne, Drayton, and the under-boy. Where were Browne and +Johannes? Mrs. Browne seemed to be a little uneasy, but she +affected to make light of what had happened. She said that her +husband had wanted to see the country beyond, so he had gone on +with the boy. He was sure to be back to-morrow, as he had taken +so little food with him. Drayton said nothing at the time, but +after dinner, when we were smoking on the stoep, he began to +quote to me: + +'I met a lady in the meads, +Full beautiful a faery's child; +Her hair was long, her foot was light, +And her eyes were wild.' + +'What do you mean to insinuate?' I said. + +'Oh, I don't mean anything libelous. Browne hasn't gone off with +a comely Mashona. But, for all that, I believe he's taken Africa +much too seriously. She has a grim fascination for me, but she +doesn't stop at that with him. She grips him and orders him to +come along.' + +'Tell me about today,' I said. + +'Browne acknowledged a little to me three days ago,' Drayton +said. 'He told me that this huge Tamburlaine (or rather +Zenocrate) of a country was giving him too heady a welcome. He +said she was still in the Middle Ages, and not only there, but +more than half outside the pale of Christendom, such as it was +then. So she had strange forces at work in her, and used +incantations to allure, in prodigal variety. He talked about +Lapland, and some footling researches he had made into the magic +of the north. He also told me a horrible tale or two of the South +that he had found in the Bodleian. One was a real curdler, I can +tell you. Jerry Browne's own moustache seemed to turn up like a +German's as he imparted it to me. You know he's romantic enough +in his way, though he does lead such a repressed life. You should +see him at home.' + +'But do tell me why he's gone off so suddenly,' said I, with some +impatience. + +'I can't tell you very much,' said Drayton. 'We rode out, and +Jerry seemed tremendously cheerful quite sportive. Anyone who'd +only known him in Park Crescent would have been much surprised to +watch him and listen to the things he said. Mrs. Browne seemed a +bit puzzled, I thought, at last. Then we came to the kopjes where +there was a consummate view. You could see a long way to the +north across a hugely wide plain. Browne climbed up on the +highest rock with me a sort of flat slab, whereon you might +immolate a hecatomb. He seemed more exhilarated than ever just +then. Soon he slipped away down the rocks and left me smoking my +pipe on high. About five minutes after I observed him making +tracks across the northern plain. He was cantering his dappled +mule for all it was worth; he was carrying nothing so far as I +could see. + +'I made haste down. I found that boy you said we could trust. I +gave him two or three picnic rugs and what was left of our food +to carry. I asked him to follow the rideaway, to stick to him, +and to bring him back as soon as ever he could. Then I went to +Mrs. Browne. She was sitting behind some bushes crying. She said +Browne had said such a curious good-bye to her. He had spoken of +riding on to see more of the country he had said he would be back +in the morning. She had tried to dissuade him, but he seemed +hardly to listen. She could scarcely believe that he had really +gone without blankets or food. I reassured her, telling her that +I had sent the boy and that you had said the boy was a good +'un. But if she thinks, or you think, that the old man will come +back tomorrow, I don't.' + +Tuesday passed anxiously both for Mrs. Browne and for me. Drayton +was anxious in the wrong way, unless I misjudged him. I seemed to +read triumph in his face as the hours went by and brought no +Browne. + +I grew haggard when evening drew on. What was I to do? But about +sunset tidings came. A native, who had traveled into town from +the north, brought me a penciled note from Johannes: 'My father, +I ask you to come to us. Let your horse make haste. The white man +will not turn. He has finished his food. He goes to the hills, he +says. I think that he is mad. Pray for us! Johannes.' + +I went to Mrs. Browne at once. I remember I found her sitting +under a flaming hibiscus bush. She looked very pale and washed-out +against it. I told her that her husband wanted to extend his +tour. She burst into tears, and said she could not understand it. +Then I told her that I meant going after him in the morning to +try to hasten his return. She brightened up at that, and fell to +planning what I should take with me. What comforts could she send +Gerald in the comfortless desert without overloading me? I showed +Johannes' note to Drayton after dinner. He whistled, and, to his +credit, looked grave. + +'I'm to go after him to-morrow,' I said. 'I've thought over it, +and I think you may as well come too. You may be useful, as +knowing his ways.' + +He nodded. 'Rather bad about his running out of skoff, isn't it?' +he asked. 'I wonder if he's out of baccy and just breaking his +heart.' His plump face was pitiful. + +'Don't you fret,' I answered. 'It only means he's run out of our +food. They'll surely buy monkey-nuts or sweet-potatoes or rice in +the kraals. He's probably developed a passion for native food by +now, also for native snuff. He'll be able to buy some of that, +surely.' + +'Just so,' said Drayton. He began to quote again in a sort of +droning chant as if he were a chorus recording the onsweep of a +tragedy: + +'I set her on my pacing steed, And nothing else saw all day long, +For sidelong would she lean, and sing A faery's song. + +'She found me roots of relish sweet, And honey wild, and manna-dew, +And sure in language strange she said I love thee true.' + +In the morning we got a flying start after all, though Drayton +was in bed when I came back from church. We went away at eight, +and soon found, to our joy, that we were really well mounted. It +was joy, too, to remember what a stubborn mule Browne had for +pacing steed. He had not got away far, we assured ourselves. But +we did not catch him that night. + +We asked at kraals as we went along, and struck a hot scent about +three in the afternoon. A white man had passed that morning a +white man riding a dappled mule, with a boy carrying blankets +behind him. Straightway we gave our ponies an off-saddle. + +Afterwards we rode on hard in what we deemed to be the right +direction till darkness fell: We sought shelter at a village +then. There was no village gossip, alas! about the passing of a +white man that day! They were good to us, though, those +villagers, and gave us beans and monkey-nuts for supper and +mealies for our ponies. After we had finished eating we spread +out the rush-mat they had lent us and lay down to smoke and +meditate and surmise as to our passionate pilgrim. They had given +us a hut that was old and grimy with fires. Its floor teemed with +life. + +Therefore we changed our resting-place and went out to camp under +a rocky eminence. There with a bedrock of austere granite we +slept in peace. At glimmer of dawn we were saddling up. We rode +to another kraal, but the folk there had no news for us. + +We were close on the hills now at last. We came to a low river at +the foot of them. We chose a landlocked pool that seemed to be +immune from crocodiles, for a plunge. Next I girded myself for +Sacrifice, and he served me. Then we made a fire and cooked a +huge breakfast in the hungry morning air. Drayton grew quite +lyrical as to the charm of the country before the meal was over. + +'Browne's not far wrong about her,' he said; 'but there's reason +in all things.' + +That whole day we heard no news and found no spoor or sign. The +hill-country gave us stiff climbing and rocky paths to ride. +Kraals and clusters of gardens places where we might hope to hear +tidings how few they were in that hill-country! We camped +disconsolately at last in a forlorn garden among grey boulders +where stumps of trees were burning. We found no trouble in +building up a good night fire of half-burnt logs. We gave our +ponies their nosebags and ate our own bread and bully rather +silently. Then we surmised with some weariness and gloom over our +pipes. At last we slept under the many eyes of the heavens. + +About first cock-crow, when a chill struck through my blanket, I +opened my eyes and looked towards the fire. Someone was sitting +beside it watching me. Now that he saw me stirring he greeted me. + +It was Johannes. 'I saw your fire but just now,' he said. 'Our +fire is up there beyond great rocks. The white man has been very +sick. I think he will come home now.' + +I sprang to my feet and roused Drayton. He would not get up for a +long time. I suspect he combined breakfast and lunch fairly often +at Oxford. But I roused him mercilessly. I told him the news. + +He argued in desperate fashion at first. 'How far's the sick +bed,' he asked. + +'Not more than a mile or so,' said I. + +'Need we go till morning?' said he. + +'Shame!' said I. + +At last he sprang up. + +As we clambered among the boulders, piloted by Johannes, he +droned away at his chorus part: + +'She took me to her elfin grot, And there she wept, and sighed +full sore, And there I shut her wild, sad eyes With kisses four. + +'And there she lulled me asleep, And there I dream'd Ah woe +betide! The latest dream I ever dream'd On the cold hill's side.' + +We found Browne in a nook among the rocks. A fire was burning +beside him. He seemed to be sleeping. + +'He looks as if he'd been sick,' I said. 'We'd better let him +sleep on!' + +'Yes; let's go to bed ourselves,' said Drayton, yawning. + +So we lay down on opposite sides of the fire. Such a red and +splendid fire that cold cock-crow time! + +Browne kept giving sharp little moans in his sleep, just as a dog +will do of nights. + +'He's started a nightmare,' said I. 'I wish we could help him to +better dreams. I'd like to see what he sees just now.' + +Drayton began to drone from his side of the fire: + +'I saw pale kings and princes, too; Pale warriors death-pale were +they all. They cried, "La Belle Dame sans Merci" hath thee in +thrall. + +'I saw their starved lips in the gloom With horrid warning gaped +wide, And I awoke and found me here On the cold hill's side.' + +I asked a question: 'What will Browne like for breakfast, +Drayton?' + +'If he's come back to his civilized tastes, you'd better open +that tin of sausages,' he said. 'You've got some squish, too, +haven't you? Don't give him that bush-tea of yours!' + +I was up long before Drayton. I had secured Browne's confidences +before the sun had been risen an hour. 'I've had a sort of +miserable ague,' he said. 'A cold and hot fever has been plaguing +me. Some part of this last night has been savagely horrible. But +I've sweated pounds of my weight away, and my fever's gone. +Strange, isn't it?' + +'Quite ordinary in this part of Africa,' I said, sharply and +minimizingly. I handed him a shirt, and he doffed his drenched +one. He did not tell me any more just then. His eyes watched me +in a dazed, miserable way. I asked him to excuse me, and went off +with Johannes to my service. When I came back his eyes were +clearer, they had less of their look of wan-hope. + +'Sinister country, this Africa,' he said. 'I was infatuated with +her yesterday. Today I can't understand just what the attraction +was. Her desolate moors seemed to make me drunk. See how she's +served me! I never felt quite so sick as I've done most of this +last day and night. Just before I woke it seemed to me I saw them +in my dreams tens and twenties of her victims; men she's charmed +and led on and on, and demoralized, ruined, killed and buried, +and helped down-hill the way of the bottomless pit. I am better +now; but I'm shaken. How thankful I'll be if only I get out of +her, and can only stop thinking about her after that.' + +I listened with grave attention. Then I gave him some bread and +sausages, and he ate away ravenously. How ever many cups of tea +did he drink afterwards?' + +The above was all the avowal that Browne made to me. I do not +think that he said nearly as much to Drayton as he did to me. +Drayton plied me with questions that night, and I told him too +much, to my regret. + +Months afterwards a copy of an undergraduate paper, containing a +fantasia on the events that I have recorded, reached me. It +comprised much African coloring and some little humor. I wonder +if it reached Browne or Mrs. Browne? + +We got Browne home in little over a day. He hurried on, +oftentimes when we wanted to rest. He seemed as anxious to emerge +from the African desert as he had been to explore the deeps of +it. He looked rakish and wretched as he bumped about upon his +mule. His face was livid, and his black beard, that he used to +cut so formally, desperately out of trim. His eyes were strangely +bloodshot. + +We reached home safely with our prize by noon on Saturday. +Browne, as I have said, was all for getting on fast, and when we +once started, his stubborn mount went well. It was won to +emulation by the willingness of our ponies, I imagine. + +Mrs. Browne was delighted at her Gerald's return. Yet I think it +must have taken some months to restore her confidence in his +sanity. She had had a sore shock. Drayton and I, indeed, were +both discreet in our brief narratives of what had really +happened. But I was heedless enough to forget Johannes. I did not +caution him in time. So Mrs. Browne gathered rather a bizarre +account from him while we were at church on Sunday evening. It is +to her credit that, despite her thrift, she gave the boy a whole +gold sovereign. + +The three travelers left by the slow down-train on the Monday +morning. I went to the station with them. I saw Drayton into a +smoking-carriage, and climbed in and sat with him. There was +still ten minutes' grace allowed us. + +'Where's Browne, and where's Mrs. Browne?' I asked. + +'Along there, ever so far!' he said; 'with Professor Ayres and +the Misses Ayres, and all sorts of good company. But, hullo! Look +there!' + +Browne was coming up the platform towards the bookstall, looking +forlorn and sad. + +'Ah! what can ail thee, wretched wight, Alone and palely +loitering?' murmured Drayton. 'It's a bad job for me, Jerry's +getting off-color like this. How's he going to train men for +Firsts next June, when he's gone in himself?' + +'Oh. he'll pick up as soon as he gets out of Africa, never fear.' +I reassured him. + +Browne loitered up to the stall and amassed two month-old English +magazines. Then he stood by the stall, looking on to the +distances near and far behind it. Our feverish contact had not +spoilt much of the landscape there as yet. Beyond a few railway +sheds showed some bushes, as it were, of wild cherry-blossom, +flaunting a true white under the sky's true blue. Spring colors +dressed the woodland behind them red and bronze, and also the two +famous colors of Faeryland. Behind that, again, the view was +spread out widely diverse, certain blue hills standing up very +delicately. Meanwhile in the near foreground some Kaffir herds +helped the picture not a little. They were driving their flock +between the white-blossomed bushes. + +Browne stood a long while and watched that landscape. I would +have given something to have read his face all the while, but his +back was turned to us. + +At last he began to pace up and down by the bookstall. Then he +stood to gaze again, scouring, as it seemed, the far distance +with eyes straining their utmost. Our eyes followed his. + +Did not some ironstone kopjes rise up dimly to the north there? + +Assuredly Browne saw those blue peaks and ridges, and remembered +them. + +'Do you remember them?' I asked Drayton. + +'Don't I just?' he said. + +He began again in his chanting chorus tone: he was reading and +transposing from a pocket copy of Theocritus. + +'They all call thee a "gipsy," gracious Africa, and "lean" and +"sunburnt," 'tis only I that call thee "honey-pale." Yea, and the +violet is swart, and swart the lettered hyacinth, but yet these +flowers are chosen the first in garlands. . . . Ah, gracious +Africa, thy feet are fashioned like carven ivory, thy voice is +drowsy sweet, and thy ways, I cannot tell of them.' + +The engine whistled. Browne roused himself to my intense relief, +and climbed into the train. + +'Good-bye,' I called to him as they steamed away. + +'Au revoir,' he called back to me. + + + +THE SCENTED TOWN (A TRIPPER'S TALE) + + + +It is now more than two years since I was invalided out of my +country parish one bitter March, and sent on a southern voyage. I +had ten weeks to recruit in, and I passed by the Mediterranean to +the eastern coast of Africa. It was hard to tear myself away from +Zanzibar, but at last I went on southward and struck up into the +wilder country of the central tableland. I meant to take the rail +for Cape Town when my time should be up. + +It happened in Easter week that I camped out disconsolately, and +rose anxiously, having lost my way overnight. I had spent Easter +Day in a cathedral, or pro-cathedral, town, and was now on my way +to a certain mission. I had hoped to make it that last night +the third night of the journey but had somehow missed it in the +dark after a big effort. There seemed to be no native village +near, and no passers-by. My carriers were strangers to that +neighborhood, and I was afraid of going far past the house in +benighted wanderings, so I bent my resolution and lay down. I +rose just before the sun did. It was April and the dews were very +heavy. + +From a rocky hill above me the baboons were barking. Just below +us was a fair stream with a rich grove of native trees on the +further bank. Some native gardens showed on the slope above. The +white path wound through them, then away among boulders, some of +them very big ones. While I watched the stream I saw a white body +of mist mounting up. Just at that moment the sun showed. As I +looked on the sacred sight I saw somebody coming down the path. +It was the man whose mission station I had been looking for. He +was coming through the long grass in a hurry. Soon he splashed +through the drift. After that he caught sight of me, and rushed +up to our camp, glowing. It was Leonard Reeve. He looked much the +same as he did that day in London three years before--dark, pale, +slight, earnest. I had been to his sendoff and gone down to +Victoria Docks with him. I had written to tell him; I was most +likely coming his way after Easter. He seemed ever so glad to see +me. + +'But where were you off to?' I said. + +'It's only a mile on that I'm going,' he answered. 'There's a +little chapel on that hill over there with some native villages +near by. I want to have an Easter service there.' + +'Let me come,' said I. 'You can be back to breakfast here, can't +you, when we've done?' + +He said he could. Even as he nodded I felt a little anxious when +I remembered that we had no meat of any sort left. I took Jack, +my head carrier, aside and asked him to do what he could while we +were gone. Couldn't he buy some eggs for salt, or do something +useful in the way of foraging? He said three words in kitchen +Kaffir that sounded hopeful. + +Then I went on with my chill, damp little friend. One of the +coldest ways surely of taking a bath is to tramp through the long +grass (it is very long in that country) when it is drenched with +dew or rain. However it is all right if you are sturdy and in +good heart, and keep going a stirring pace, and never sit down +till you are dry again. My companion did not seem very buoyant, +though he made no complaint and trudged on without flagging. We +had a glorious service in a quaint church of wattles and earth +and grass on a hill-top. One way it looked over a great spread of +village gardens I think there were at least three villages in +sight. The other way it looked on some well-wooded uplands that +the eastern sun lighted tenderly. There were only a few people in +church at the end of the rite, though a great crowd was there at +the outset, and the 'Kyrie' and first two hymns raised the hill +echoes. + +There was no sermon. When the unbaptized were gone the tiny +church, that had seemed so thronged and stifling, grew to be +roomy and cool. + +That was to me a very beautiful rendering of the Liturgy. Yet I +only understood a word here and there. I could follow the action +of the Divine Pageant throughout, and I would not have had the +mystery and aloofness of the words one whit lessened. + +After it was over Reeve took me across to the native teacher's +house, where we found a very shy wife and a very composed baby to +greet us. Meanwhile the husband bustled about and gave us tea. I +liked his laugh and his boyish face, as well as his Biblical +English. He did not stint the tea in his blue pot. Soon we were +on our way back to my camp. + +Jack had got a real good fire now in the shelter of the rocks, +and a hearty smell of fish frying reassured me as we drew near. + +Reeve, who had seemed a little tired and washed out as we came +away from the church, now brightened up marvelously. + +'I declare,' he said, 'it's just like old times. You know the +Tooting Road, where I used to work? It's just like the fried-fish +shop there, next door to the Surrey Arms. If we'd only got the +fog and the trams and a few of the old people here how fine it'd +be!' + +We had found a subject that interested us both and lasted most of +the breakfast-time. His enthusiasm struck me as a little too +emphatic. I remarked that I thought he was well out of the +Tooting Road and out under blue sky on an African moorland. + +'Look up there!' I said. 'That makes the Tooting Road seem rather +monstrous when one comes to think of it.' I pointed to the many +cattle and sheep and goats coming down to the stream at a +swinging pace through the gleaming woodland. + +Two little boys were mounted on bulls; two or three others came +rushing behind. There was a barking of dogs and an ecstasy of +shouting. + +'Oh, it's all very well,' he said, and his eyes flashed a little +scornfully. + +Afterwards he took me to his home. His church stood out nobly as +we came up the path towards it. Within it was beautifully kept, +but I confess I was disappointed. It was all very neat, but it +suggested the skill of the church-furnishing firm too strongly. I +sighed a little as he showed me four enormous brazen vases of a +too familiar type. I longed for the two or three little red and +black earthen vases that I had seen on his teacher's altar; but I +kept my longing to myself. + +He was a marvelous man for method, Leonard Reeve. He seemed to me +to organize classes with real talent anybody who came to the +Mission at all habitually was pigeon-holed as 'Inquirer,' +'Hearer,' 'Catechumen,' 'Under a cloud,' or something else, and +dealt with accordingly. His work, as I watched it day by day, and +evening by evening in church and school and villages and Mission +farm seemed to me well-considered and painstaking. On the other +hand he seemed to me not so happy, and not so very well. + +The mail came in on the Monday. + +I was to start the following Thursday for the railroad on my way +to my home again. We gloated over the letters and papers that +evening it was really a superb mail. The native boy with the bag +(I remember he was lanky and handsome and wore a rose-and-blue +zephyr) came up just as we stood in the avenue leading to the +house. We were smoking our pipes and arguing. The sun was almost +down. + +What were we arguing about? Oh, he was arguing rather recklessly +about the glories of town-work. I retorted with few words, but +strong ones, in favor of work out in the country. Once I pressed +him rather inquisitively and mischievously as to his present work +on the veld. 'How can you hold such views and do it?' I asked him +point-blank. Thereat the fine side of the man showed. + +His face flushed and his lips quivered. 'It's my job,' he said, +'and I'm not going to talk against it. I was arguing about +country-work in the abstract over there in England.' Then it was +that the boy came in sight with the letters. Reeve looked up and +watched him with real pleasure and gratitude. He said something +to him in the native language that seemed to amuse the boy very +much. I had thought his manners towards his flock very courteous, +but cold. I noticed a new tenderness now and from this night +forward. + +I could read him like a book, this town-lover so I thought. He +had said too much to me, he had avowed to me his want of +affection for his work in so many words, and now he was on the +watch against himself, and burning to render reparation to a very +quick conscience. + +He had a big mail, but he was not communicative about it. Indeed +we had not much time for our letters just then. We had Evensong +soon after sunset, then there was a class for catechumens that I +attended. I could not understand much, but it was good to watch +how they listened, all but the vigorous mail-boy, who nodded at +whiles unless I am mistaken. Afterwards we had a meal. It was by +mutual agreement that we read our letters over our bread and tea +and cheese. I read one of my letters with some indignation. It +was a letter from my schoolmaster, who was not very encouraging +on the subject of my locum tenens' industry. + +'I thought I had got a first-rate man in Cochrane,' I said aloud. + +'Cochrane of Peckham Downs?' asked Reeve, looking up and eyeing +me. 'What about him? Yes, I should say he was in his way quite +first-rate.' + +'I'm glad to hear it, but I wish he would find country work more +congenial. My correspondent says he's quite got the hump about +our village.' + +Leonard smiled. 'Some villages do tend to give people like +Cochrane and me the hump,' he said. 'But of course yours is +different.' 'Of course it is. Come and see it some day.' His +mouth twitched. 'If I get home-leave in two years' time,' he +said. 'I don't want to spend it in the country, not any of it, +thank you all the same. I like the town much too well.' + +'The smell of the shop you named attracts you just like thyme +does me.' + +'Yes,' he said, with a rather wry smile and a very real sigh. + +Then we went on reading till bed-time. In the morning Lorenzo, +his house-boy, knocked me up just as the sun was rising. 'The +father is very sick,' he said. So he was very bad indeed with +fever, at least so it seemed to me. But I am not used to nursing +that malady. I think his temperature was 103 that day, which may +seem a modest figure to a pioneer, but struck a chance visitor as +none too reassuring. However, I kept my anxieties to myself, and +looked after him quietly. He said there was no need to worry +about a doctor. That night he seemed to be delirious, and talking +at large. I made up my mind I would send for the doctor in the +morning if his symptoms should last. But they did not. He +appeared to be quiet and sensible at sunrise, and his temperature +was a normal one. The morning after that, again, he seemed so +well that I left him with a fairish conscience on my return +journey for England. I want to tell you about that anxious night. +He gave himself away then. I don't think he remembered much +of what he had said next morning. It seemed sad to me his +self-revelation. He said he did not know what in the world to do, +he felt so ill and anxious. He was a Cockney born, and he had +loved his South London work. He really wanted to tackle the job in +front of him here. But the romance was there behind him in that +English city the unique sense of being in the right place the +great adventure the gleam. + +Oh! why had he caught the fever? Not this fever, but the malaria +of Imperialism, and felt drawn to go so very far afield. He +didn't abuse the veld, the camping-out, the foot-slogging, the +primitive people. He was a very chivalrous person even in his +delirium. + +But he spoke ecstatically of the streets, the tram-roads, the +lights of the town, the smartness of his flock, the delights of +their up-to-date humor. + +The tragedy thickened. He told me of her who had promised to +marry him by Eastertide next year. Cecilia was her name. + +She was a Londoner, and shared his views. 'Whatever will she +think of this place?' he asked. My eyes wandered to the iron +roof, to the floor-boarded walls, to the candle in a bottle that +fought the draught so bravely. He told me about a letter of hers +he had got by this mail. She had been working as a governess +these last few months at a country rectory in the Berkshire +moors. She found the village, and the neighborhood, and the life +there in general very flat indeed. They bored her; yet she was +keen, he said, on 'the work,' 'the work' as she had known it when +she worked for him in London. 'Whatever will she think of this +place?' he repeated. I looked at the floor, freshly treated with +cow-dung, and thought again for an answer, but I could think of +no very suitable one. + +'I'll give you her letter to read,' he said, in a burst of +confidence. 'That puts it far more plainly than I can. My head's +so bad.' He looked worried, and I thought I had better leave him. + +'No,' he said; 'do read to me a bit before you go.' + +'What shall I read?' + +He looked at me meditatively. 'You'll find something to the point +in there,' he said. He reached up to the little candle-box +bookcase over his head, and showed me a little crimson book. It +was an anthology. I should think it might be commendably put on +the 'Index Expurgatorius' of upcountry missionaries. + +It was called 'The Cheerful City,' and dwelt on the delights of +civilization and urbanity. Doubtless it may serve a useful +purpose, thought I, in reconciling Londoners to their wen; but, +here, what does it spell for my delirious Cockney save only +desiderium? + +I read him two or three selections obediently, but without +enthusiasm. Were they from Herrick and Charles Lamb? I rather +think they were. + +Afterwards he asked me for a few verses of the Gospel. I cheered +up. + +'What would you like?' + +'Oh, that story at the end of St. John. I've often thought of it +since I was so cold and wet; and got to your camp-fire. "The fire +of coals, and fish laid thereon, and bread," that's it.' + +I read with a will, but rather sadly. + +'That's it,' he said. 'It seems to bring back the fog, and going +to early Service past that coffee-stall, and the smell of that +shop next to the Surrey Arms.' + +I thought of his homely comparison after I had left him for the +night. It moved me strangely. I read the letter he had lent me +the letter of Cecilia, who found the Berkshire moors so banal. +Yes, she promised to prove a very undesirable help-meet on the +veld, so far as I could judge. I thought over things generally +that night, and I made up my mind to make a Quixotic offer in the +morning. I would offer to take on Leonard's work. Let him go home +and be happy in his scented town, with his intolerantly urban (or +suburban) Cecilia. He was splendid stuff. He might do much, +surely, in that quaint atmosphere of light and locomotion and +fragrance that his sense of romance demanded. Here Cecilia would +surely be either impossible or a very great nuisance. While, even +without Cecilia, Leonard did not seem well suited in his sphere, +and I judged that he would soon be rotten with fever and wouldn't +last. + +As for me, I liked country life much, and roughing it a little. I +had no particular fear of fever. I compared my physique with +Leonard's not without complacency. I thought of the other side, +too: the east country that village of all villages, those +villagers of all villagers. + +But that night I was full of over-seas fervor. I remembered +phrases that had rung cut finely at meetings Outpost Duty, the +Church in Greater Britain, The White Man's Burden, In Darkest +Africa, etc., etc. When I fell asleep there seemed to be a +symphony in my ears sounding brass and tinkling cymbals enough +and to spare, but flute-voices of honest pity and sympathy as +well. + +In the morning I took Leonard's place in his church. We had the +English Liturgy again. The thatched dome, with much tinier +windows than the windows at home, but much more sun to fill them, +seemed a sort of parable to me that morning. After I had finished +the rite, I stayed on in the church, and spread out two letters +before the Lord, so to speak. One was my schoolmaster's, the +other was that one from Cecilia. + +It took me half an hour to feel fairly sure of my answer. But I +felt very sure then just as sure as I had been the night before +but the answer was different. + +I thought of my own fold and flock as I read my own friend's +letter. How little the locum tenens seemed to see what I saw in +them! I read Cecilia's letter, and compared 'her view of the +importance of a country cure with my own. After all, I thought, +the latter tended to be an exceptional view in our megalomaniac +days. On the other hand, the locum tenens' view might be rather a +normal one, and so might Cecilia's be. Cecilia's scorn, it was, +that materially helped the answer to come as clearly as it did. +The thought of a Cecilia reigning in that east-country vicarage +seemed no more right than pleasant. It sounds a callous thing to +say, but I left my lonely and convalescent friend with something +of a sigh of relief, and no real misgiving. I felt troubled about +his future certainly, but I saw clearly that I was not meant to +take his place. I hoped to find the man who was meant to take it, +however. + +And, by God's help, I believe that I really did find him before +many months were over. + +A cousin of mine Richard East had been persuaded by a certain +bishop to accept an urban charge. + +I fancy the said bishop had been reared in a rather strait school +of enthusiasts, who regarded work in slums as ideally the best +sphere for clerics of activity. So he had routed my cousin out of +his west-country village, and brought him to a big town--my +cousin, who was an outdoor man from his youth. Curiously enough, +at Cape Town, there was a letter waiting for me from him. +Wouldn't I tell him something about the 'great spaces washed with +sun'? The midland town in general seemed not to have gained his +affections, though he loved his people one by one. 'I want to +clear out,' he wrote, 'for the parish's sake more than for my +own, if only I can find the right place to clear to. I'm not +a townsman, and I think by now the bishop understands my +small-mindedness. I haven't the breadth of a good modern citizen. +I want to go to some Little Peddlington an African village might +suit me. No, directly the right man turns up, I don't doubt the +bishop will want to put him here in my room. Do you know of +anyone likely?' I did know of someone. + +I did not write back; I got on my boat and started off for home. +I went down to the east country and set free the locum tenens. +The village had a bridal look for my eyes; the red-thorn tree was +just coming out, the roses would not be long now. I was in time +to be at our yearly May games after all. Next day I went to the +Midland town and saw my cousin; also, I saw his charge. I tried +to look at it with Leonard Reeve's eyes, recalling to my +remembrance that delirious night of his. Yes, though it was not +South London, it had a drab look on a dull June day. There was a +Warwick Arms, if no Surrey Arms. There was a shop with the +authentic fragrance only two or three doors off. I knew that +bishop, and I found him in, and in a listening mood, on the +following day. He wanted to hear about Africa. I described +missions and missionaries to him. Then I told him at some length +about Leonard Reeve. + +'Yes, you have drawn the man convincingly,' he said. 'You didn't +invent those touches. I think he's a man after my own heart. I +don't understand you people that bury yourselves in little +rose-covered, immoral, earthy country villages. But I think I do +understand the man that you have described.' I went straight to +the point, and spoke of my cousin's parish. He agreed that my +cousin was a disappointment. 'He's got the same peddling way of +looking at things as you,' he said. 'I thought he'd flourish +after transplantation, but I admit he doesn't seem to. Yes, I +should think a desert and a barbarous people might suit him. I +don't deny that he has vision, but his sense of perspective seems +to be rather ridiculous.' I tried to arrange matters there and +then after that, but his lordship became politic, and seemed a +little afraid that he had said too much to me. + +However, the business was on the way to be settled before I +parted from him. It has been settled quite a long while now. My +cousin, Richard East, now tramps the Kaffir paths and ministers +in the hill chapel and in that seven-domed church at the mission +station. I do not think that there is any Cecilia in his case, +nor that there is likely to be one. He personifies the abstract +too passionately to need the love of women. + +Africa is personified to him the Cinderella of the continents, +the drudge with a destiny worthy of her charms and her good-temper. +He is writing a monograph on the Song of Solomon, he tells +me. He follows certain scholars in his conjecture that the +Shulamite was given back to a humble shepherd by Solomon, when +she had conquered the latter by the power of her impassioned +chastity. But he has his own theory as well that the true lovers +were both of African blood, that she came from the Ophir-land +south of the Zambesi, and thither returned in peace at last from +the foam of perilous seas. Perhaps his argument is slender; but +it is good for him to believe in it himself, I think, for surely +it helps his work among those that he deems her descendants. + +He works on out there, personifying and idealizing. I think he +is as much in love with his country parish as I am with mine in +England. May we both, in our placid and unfashionable ways, dream +our dreams and see our visions! Meanwhile Leonard Reeve reigns +in that midland town, and is treasured by the bishop who was not +deceived when he expected a kindred spirit. He and Cecilia have +chosen a date in this next November for their deferred marriage. + +Their choice of month seems to me characteristic. I do not think +they will be disappointed if the day is a little urban in its +murkiness. + +It is good for a man to be in love with his charge, is it not? +Next time some fanatic of West-End work, or East-End work, or +foreign mission work gets hold of you and talks excellent sense +about discipline, and offering yourself to your bishop, and +packing up your kit at a week's notice remember this story of +mine! + +Is it not well to import something of the precise devotion of +Holy Matrimony into the general self-oblation of Holy Orders? + +It is good to think that three of us friends have the very same +sort of feeling Leonard Reeve for the crowds and the fogs and the +odors; my cousin for the rock-sown plains and the little circles +of thatched huts; I for the cornlands and the elm-shaded ridges +and the cottage people. + +Yes, to Leonard anything grimy is just as romantic as green +fields to me, or brown veld to my cousin. + +Do you know, I was asked to preach Leonard's Institution sermon +last Whit Monday, and I dared to preach it? Cecilia, who was +stately but really pleasant-looking, sat beneath me in the front +pew. Leonard, in his stall, looked oppressed with the weight of +the ceremony. + +But his eyes lighted up, I saw, as I gave out my text. It was +from the end of St. John's Gospel. I preached very shortly. I +drew for that poor and earnest-looking congregation the picture +of a dripping missionary as I had seen him. I told of him going +about his business at dawn, cheered by the Easter Feast in front +at the chapel on the hill. I passed up to it by the cheery +camp-fire. I did not forget the smell of breakfast cooking, with +its reminder of home afterwards. + +Then I spoke of the charm of the town work that Leonard had been +called to take up once again. I tried to paint it as he dreamed +of it the crowds, the classes, the fog, the scent of the streets. +Then I went higher to the Easter scene, the shore in the morning, +the vision of the altar that dawns on a true man's work however +deep the night of his failure may have been, wheresoever in all +the world he is working. + +Leonard looked gratefully at me as I came down the pulpit steps. + +While we hurried along from the Service on our way to the station +(Reeve was coming to see me off), I quoted some words to him. We +were just passing that fish-shop. + +'Awake, O north wind, and come, thou south; blow upon my garden +that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into +his garden.' + +His eyes kindled. 'Yes, old man,' he said; 'I've come into my +garden. How I used to dream of this sort of reek out in Africa!' + +I felt a gross materialist as I hurried home to my roses and +red-thorn, leaving him to that visionary garden and those mystical +spices. + + + +THE PLACE OF PILGRIMAGE + +I. + +'When you have set Thought free for one particular end you cannot +bind her again as you will.' Such is the purport of a certain +historian's dictum, and I have proved the truth of what he says. +Edgar used to go to the Place of Pilgrimage long ago in his +holidays, but I used not to go with him. I did not sympathize +with his veneration overmuch in those times of long ago. But I +respected the desire for hero-worship, and helped him thither +each year that he wanted to visit his shrine. He used to come up +for his long holidays every year from the colony. I had known his +father rather well, and he had not any settled home. His mother +was dead, as well as his father. No one now that knew him need +know what she was like, for he took after his father almost +unmitigatedly. His father was blonde and aggressively Saxon in +appearance. His mother had been Dutch, semi-Dutch, of the colored +Dutch type, as I very well knew. She came from the Western +province, and died when he was but a year old, to be followed +by his father some ten years later, just when he had come +back to South Africa from England. Then I, acting on my own +responsibility, sent him to school in the Eastern Province. +No one seemed to bother, even if they had any inkling of his +mother's parentage; he looked to be so completely his father's +son. + +It was in Edgar's schooldays that the Place of Pilgrimage was +inaugurated, and that a big star of hope swam into his ken. I had +told him about Oxford before, but there had then seemed no sort +of path open for him to go up thither. Now, in the midst of his +schooldays, there opened out to him a path that he thought he +might climb. It was then in the next long holiday time that he +took his path, a curious and grateful pilgrim, to the Matopos, to +explore the shrine and to give thanks before it. + +He dreamed of being a Rhodes scholar years before it came off +that Rhodes scholarship of his. It came in the fullness of time a +thing of many struggles and prayers, of star-led hopes and paths +steep with uphill climbing. + +Then at last it was that I agreed to go with him on his yearly +pilgrimage, in September, the month of his sailing for home. May +used to be a Canterbury month in England, the hawthorn month that +pricked men in their courages and sent them out on the Kentish +road. September had been Edgar's pilgrimage month every year a +spring month in our southern country. The masasa leaves were +taking many tints then in Mashonaland. Speaking generally, the +dominant note of our woodland world was rose-color as we tramped +together to the station. Matabeleland by contrast seemed rather +drab and drouthy, yet she was showing signs of spring. One great +rock stood up very beautiful in a pink lichen garment. It was +hard by the path that led to the last hill-climb, ere you reached +the burial-place. We camped out close beside it, two Mashona boys +who had come to seek their fortunes in Bulawayo, and Edgar and I. + +When the morning light came I was up. When the sun rose I had all +but finished my service. There, on his own ground, so to speak, +it seemed easier to pray for the Patron with a sanguine heart, +and to give thanks for him with a clear conscience. Over our +breakfast we sat on and talked, and looked about us. Edgar seemed +to me to be growing in discernment. Once he had seemed so +provocatively cock-sure about his mighty patron. To pray for him +as we had prayed that morning in the language of a race he had +contemned might have sounded to him in years past mere clerical +impertinence. Now he seemed to suffer me rather gladly. + +But he said little. We had scant time to spare just then; there +were so many miles to go to the railway. He was to leave for +Oxford that very night. While the carriers were cooking their +breakfast he came with me to the grave and knelt at the head, +looking northwards. I said nothing aloud, nor did he. The rocks +bulked dark in the bright air, the hills wore mystic colors, the +sun shone passionately in a setting of tender blue. Words seemed +a presumption just then, too much of a time or nation or age that +passes. That which may or may not take shape in words remained +the untied power of silent prayer. That morning among the +many-colored hills I looked to sight the faith that can remove such +as these. And I prayed there quietly, in prayer that seemed to +need no words, for Edgar. I asked for him that he might see those +visions without which! people are apt to perish. + +II. + +He did not write much, and he did not come for five years. When +he came he was not at first communicative. He seemed to take more +interest than he used to do in the Mission, I noticed. He had +always been a hero among the Mashona boys: that was no new thing. +And I was thankful indeed to see that he had not lost his old +artless art of making friends with them. So many things might +have conspired to rob him of it. He stayed but a month in all at +the Mission, and he said little all that time, but his eyes were +full of thought as I talked to him passing on to him hopes, +disappointments, joys of battle unabating and enhanced. He was a +good listener. I did not try to force the pace with him. But for +all that I was eager to know his mind. And it seemed a long while +waiting and waiting, thinking he might be going to speak day +after day. Then at last the time did come for him to speak, but +it was after he had left the Mission. + +History repeated itself, and we camped in the old place once +more. The camp-fire shone out, and the moon rose broad and golden +over the grave of pilgrimage. There he lay with his feet to the +north on the height above us the founder and name-giver of our +State. It was strange how his patronage seemed to dominate us. We +said our evensong rather northwards than eastwards; we scanned +the northern horizon as though seeking a sign. The wind blew that +way as we paced to and fro afterwards, and our thoughts went the +way of the wind. + +At last I broke the silence. We were resting on a ledge of rock +then, smoking, staring away north-wards among the moonlit kopjes. +There he sat beside me, fair-haired and tall, strong and +rejoicing in his strength, always courteous but strangely dumb. +He was going to-morrow. Would he go without a revealing word? + +'So many worlds, so much to do, So little done, such things to +be.' + +I paused doubtfully. + +He turned to me, and his eyes sparkled as they looked into mine. +'Listen,' he said. Then he told me his heart. Little I knew what +it was. I trembled for my crusade, yet not without hope. I had +preached to him little, but I had prayed for him much. Now I +learned that his heart was as my heart, his desire as my heart's +desire, yet, like wine to water, like sunlight to moonlight. I +sat at his feet, so to speak, and listened on and on. + +III + +The next morning broke very brightly, yet there were clouds +enough on high to mystify its clear shining. There had been a +thunder-shower on the day before yesterday: our former rains had +sent on an advance-guard. We had finished our service before the +day grew hot, in the prime and cool of the morning. The place had +been kept very sacred all that service-time. No hoot of a motor-car +had scared the sleep of those lonely hills. Afterwards it was +different. People came out in crowds from Bulawayo. There was a +special excursion from the Transvaal, I believe, that arrived on +that day of all days. We had breakfasted by our camp-fire. Then +we came up the hill to the shrine once more, while the boys were +clearing up. 'Listen,' said Edgar. A stout Bulawayo bourgeois was +holding forth on the crankiness of Cecil Rhodes in choosing to be +so lonely. 'He might have considered the town and trade of +Bulawayo' seemed to be the burthen of his song. A pioneer shut +him up rather roughly. 'He knew best,' he said. 'Where would your +town and trade be if he hadn't cleared the path?' Edgar went up +to the old fellow, ruddy, stalwart, more or less spirituous, +indomitably good-humored. 'Tell me about it please, sir the +burial; you were here for it, weren't you?' The old fellow +complied with great goodwill. + +Bareheaded we stood looking north while he told us of the great +camping-out, with the many twinkling fires, by the dam some miles +away, on the eve of the entombment. He told, too, of the +concourse of Matabele at the place itself next day, and of the +auspicious climbing of the yoked cattle as they drew the body. +'They never turned. They went straight up,' he said. 'You can see +the track-way up the rock now. It meant luck surely, and we took +it so, both black and white of us.' + +Then he told us of him who lay there, in words of rugged +tenderness the hero of the old era who brought on the new era so +fast; he who had tasted the old and knew the old was better, +testifying the same by his choice of a burying-place. + +We were grateful, indeed, to that guide. A few yards in front of +us two beaked Afro-Hebrews were arguing as to what the hero's +leavings had been. + +'What did he die worth?' was to one of them a subject of earnest +enquiry. A few yards in front of them again, as we passed, some +bar-loungers foregathered. 'He stood no nonsense about niggers,' +one was saying as we went by him. Edgar nudged me. 'We all have +our different views of him,' he said, 'haven't we? He gave us +views and visions. Thank God that he distrusted himself, and sent +us straight to learn where he learned, haply to learn what he +missed learning from Oxford, his Mistress of Vision, so far to +the west and the north.' + +'You see, it's this way,' he said, when the place had grown quiet +again in the drowsy noonday. They had gone off then, the +Jo'burgers, three wagonettes and a motor-car crowded with them. +'We must keep the road open to the north, mustn't we?---the way +his feet lie, the way that goes beyond his vision into bigger +visions.' + +'I'll try and do something,' I said humbly. 'There are plenty who +want to travel far, or think they do.' I glanced at the three +Mashonas by the fire. One was teaching the other two. They were +spelling out Saint John's Gospel together. 'Is he one of the most +adventurous?' Edgar asked. 'He's very willing,' I muttered. 'You +ask him whether he'd like to go to school down south.' + +The boy's face lighted up when Edgar asked him. It was a rounded, +soft-featured Mashona face with large bright eyes. The lips were +not so very thick; the nostrils were cut like an Arab's. + +'Tell him I'll pay for him and for another who wants to go,' +Edgar said. 'He's probably got a particular friend. What about +Atiwagoni?' 'He might be keen to go,' I said, 'and he's quicker +than most of them.' + +We began to smoke a last pipe silently. The time was drawing near +to strike our camp. We must start for Bulawayo at once if we +would catch Edgar's midnight train easily. + +I reached for my wallet, and brought out an Oxford anthology. + +I turned over the pages and began to read rather sadly + +Yet half a beast is the great god Pan, +To laugh as he sits by the river, +Making a poet out of a man: +The true gods sigh for the cost and the pain +For the reed which grows nevermore again +As a reed with the reeds in the river. + +'There's that point of view to consider,' I said. 'I'm fond of +Arcadia and Arcadians, and there's loss entailed if you send +Arcadians on the way of Athens.' Edgar sighed. 'I know what you +mean,' said he; 'and I feel it as you do. But Arcadia's got +Lacedaemon at her throat, a southern state not much troubled with +scruples, neither very philosophic nor very literary. The way has +been opened by him we wot of to Oxford, to the Athens of the +north. It was opened, as men thought, for the benefit of young +Lacedaemonians. The man that was hand-in-glove with Africanders, +with our Lacedaemonians of the south, did that. He imperiled +Lacedaemonian stability by opening the way to northern stars and +their influences to Shelley, Burke, and Mill, and to all manner +of people dangerous to the back-veld views of Lacedaemon. He +opened the way to Tolstoy's rediscovery of the Christian Law, +amongst other northern treasures, didn't he? And I, with the +Arcadian taint in my veins, saw the way open and went northwards. +Now it has come to pass that I remember my own people as Moses +did, and use the wisdom of Oxford as he used the wisdom of Egypt, +to help one's own people towards a promised land. They want +leaders, don't they? Is there not a cause? Is it healthy for +Lacedaemon to go on as she does in Arcadia, setting aside +Arcadia's own happiness?' 'I'll be back again next year,' Edgar +said, 'to compare notes and report progress, should all fall +well. If I forget thee, O my Darien-peak, let my right hand +forget her cunning!' We knelt long at the grave with the feet of +its sleeper laid true north; then we said 'Good-bye' to it. +'Bless him,' Edgar said to me as we turned away.' He opened a +wider way than he knew perchance; God prosper the Great North +Road, the Road to Oxford rather than to Cairo!' + + + +THE LEPER WINDOWS + + + +Its Cathedral was rising at last in a small South African +capital. For many years a pro-Cathedral of corrugated iron had +sufficed. Now the first stage of a noble design in ruddy +sandstone was all but completed. + +The new Bishop who had been called to sit in its Cape-oak throne +was complacent of its charms. Chancel and Lady-chapel were +provided; transepts and tower might be expected in due course of +time. The Bishop was long and lean and dark-haired, very closely +shaven. He came from Oxford, yet he was wise enough to obtrude +that fact but seldom on South Africa. He watched and listened +intently and said strangely little; nevertheless, when he did +speak, he seemed to have no lack of things to say. His speech to +the Cathedral Building Committee after a three months' silence +was not without its interest. He spoke well of both design and +execution. + +He turned to the shyer subject of the raising of the funds. How +had they attained to such wealth as their secretary announced? +Mainly by means of three fancy fairs and a cafe chantant. Alas! +that it should be so. Yet he did not propose to hold inquests. +Let the dead bury their dead! Let them, however, set their hearts +as the nether millstone against the adding of transept or tower +save only by alms made to God. He went on to ask with whose +memory the Lady-chapel was to be associated. Was it not the fact +that they had associated the chapel of Christ's Mother with the +memory of a visionary statesman? There seemed to be want of +consideration for the great dead shown in their popular decision, +inasmuch as he had not seen his way to accept her Son. Was it not +something of a felony to have stolen the dead man's name--a +felony that had assisted their funds very lavishly? But, likely +enough, the Committee had had some noble thought in mind when +they gave to the dead such reckless honor. The last touches were +now being given to the nave. He wished to make a personal request +of his own. He understood that colored persons and natives were +not to be encouraged to frequent this mother of churches. Their +status within was, to say the least, precarious and hard to +reconcile with due respect for the second chapter of Saint James. +He asked to put in at his own expense five windows after the +likeness of leper windows in England windows that colored persons +and natives might use freely and without reproach. By this means +someone at least of them from without the walls might be made +free of the vision of the services within. + +The irony of the speech escaped its hearers for the most part. +After the usual type of debate on such a subject as viewed in +South African Church circles, the request was granted. + +Now it happened that Mr. Conyers Smythe, the most prosperous man +in the whole community, was not present at that Committee +meeting. He was a Master of Arts of a South African University, +and a real scholar, not a mere qualifier. He was, moreover, both +sufficiently educated to understand the irony of a critical +friend, and habitually inclined to resent it. He spoke fierily to +certain of his intimates when the Bishop's speech was reported to +him. He went to see him himself next day in the evening time. + +His host came and sat with him on the stoep, lighted the lamp to +show him a new book of his, and gave him coffee and a cigar. The +hour was about half-past seven, and the week was Christmas week. +There was a new moon of very dim silver in the West looking +through the rose trellis upon them, and masses of inflammatory +cloud were heaped about her. The host looked at the guest +meditatively as he lighted his pipe. + +The guest was fair-haired and well-featured, as well as +magnificently built; but his deep color was not exactly the hue +of health. His eyes had been glowing when he had first come on +the scene, prepared to open battle. But when his host masterfully +gained an armistice they became dull and rather worn eyes, that +seemed not to be seeing good days somehow. + +Their possessor only grew eager by flashes now and again as the +Bishop showed him a second new book one that they both deemed +highly delectable turning the passages and discussing various +phases of its general subject the cults of the Greek States. + +They had come together, these two, in a very tiny and remote city +each an enthusiast as to this same by-path of erudition. + +It was not until he had shown his guest the road on to a large +extent of commonage--commonage of mutual delight that the Bishop +led the way to a spot therein convenient for the desired +engagement. He began to discuss the relations of Xanthos, the +fair god, and Melanthos, the dark god, in Hellenic society. + +'That's the trouble here,' he said. 'I hope you won't draw the +line even at my leper windows. They may at least ease the +isolation of our two cults here. I find established so to speak +in this Christian city the cult of Xanthos, tribal god of the +fair-skins at the Cathedral, or for the present the Pro-Cathedral. +Also I find the cult of Melanthos multiplying itself at the tin +temple of Saint Simon the Cyrenian.' + +Mr. Smythe's cheeks became more deeply empurpled and his eyes +danced. + +'You must know,' went on the Bishop, 'I don't believe in +tribal-gods at this time of day. I believe in Someone bigger. So +it was that leper windows, modeled on those of the Middle Ages, +seemed to me possible easements. There, at least, Lazarus may feel +at home and join in worship, as his forerunners in the Middle +Ages did, at their own wall-slits. Thus at least one step will +be taken towards the supercession of Xanthos. As to the cult +of Melanthos, I hope to help to infuse more of the joy of the +Universal into it, so help me God!!! Yes, let me hear your +objections.' + +Mr. Smythe began quite conclusively. Yet there was more +moderation and more argument in his rather indistinct beginning +than in the flowing harangue that followed, when his voice +cleared and his periods found their stride. The speech fell from +level to level. Ere the end it fell to the level of that sort of +invective against natives one hears so often where mean whites +forgather a not very dizzy level, believe me! + +Finally, Mr. Smythe vowed to give no penny for the future to +Church purposes, and never to darken the doors of the new +Cathedral, should the concession of those leper windows be +confirmed. He would agree to forfeit a thousand pounds should he +break his word, he said. Thereupon they closed the subject. The +host tried to lead back to the cults of the Greek States, but the +guest was now too rapt and breathless to follow to much purpose. +Soon, by mutual consent, they ended the interview, not without +private friendliness, but with civic war at heart. + +This was in Christmas week, and things went much as might have +been expected during the months that followed. The concession had +been granted by the Committee, and the concessionaire thought it +his duty to be grateful for that small mercy and to act upon it. +The malcontent repeated his vow, and it rang throughout the +village-city. A good many of the natives who worshipped at the +tin temple managed to hear of it, and laughed to one another; +they would watch for the darkening of the doors. + +The Cathedral was to be dedicated to Saint Mark as a saint who +was martyred in Africa, but lacked a cathedral in the south. + +His day was chosen for the hallowing. On the eve some pomp of +Procession, Recession, and Anthems had been prepared, and the +Bishop was to preach. He had been away much of these last months +to north, south, east and west. So custom had not staled his +variety of appeal to the outer circle of citizens or villagers. +They, as well as the devotees, thronged the nave. At the leper +windows there were knots of dark participants in the service. + +The windows gave; a few the chance of sight, but they were only +five in number, and it would seem that many had to be content +with very scanty views. It is questionable whether a number of +the smaller folk nurse-boys, kitchen boys and telegraph +messengers got any sort of a glance ere the pageantry was over. + +The night was very clear; the autumn wind was somewhat bitter. + +The hymn after the Blessing had been reached 'Brief life is here +our portion' and the banners streamed down the central aisle in +glory. The leper windows grew very starry with observation. + +One boy who had come late had no chance of a view now. He was the +Bishop's coachman, a lanky Bechuana, and he stood humming the +hymn's air with his back to a window a window near the western +door. Suddenly he started. Somebody was striding up to the porch. +Surely there was no mistaking Mr. Conyers Smythe's fine shoulders +in that figure nor the jaunty carriage of his massive head. Now +he drew near, and the light of the porch-lamp fell upon him. + +The coachman caught the arm of his stable-boy, who was standing +next to him a rather Jewish-looking Mashona. + +'Look! look!' he cried. + +They both watched the churchgoer as he passed up the steps. Then +he was gone from their view. + +In the afternoon of the next day, when the triumphal services of +Dedication were over, the Bishop was being driven to a farmhouse +not very far distant. It was not till his mule-cart had almost +reached home again that his driver ventured to question him. He +had seemed rather preoccupied that driver all the dusty journey. +Now he asked a question that was being wildly debated in native +circles that very afternoon. 'My lord, has Mr. Smythe paid all +the thousand pounds yet?' + +The Bishop started and stared; then he laughed. 'What do you know +of Mr. Smythe's thousand pounds?' he asked. Then he answered, +'No, Jack; why should he?' + +Why indeed? So Mombe, the ox-man to give him his native name was +trying to evade his obligations, was he? Almost bursting with +importance, Jack told his master what Jim and he had seen last +night. The Bishop listened carefully, and asked two or three +questions. Then he told Jack that he might want him and his +stable-boy later on that evening. He felt sure that the story was +no mere willful fiction. When they were home he wrote a letter to +Smythe asking him if he could come over and smoke after dinner. +Then he went off to his sunset Evensong. + +Conyers Smythe came about an hour afterwards. The Bishop and he +had had but two bookish evenings together since that rather +bizarre one in Christmas week. They met cordially enough on this +April night. + +Smythe was looking far from well. He had been worried about his +wife's health she was away in England. The last news of it had +been rather disquieting. Smythe was glad enough of sympathy; he +was in no truculent mood. + +They smoked by the fire in the Bishop's study as the night was +cold. The Bishop had some new books to show and points to debate. + +The two began with Greek pagan cults, but passed on to Christian +hagiology, and discussed the legend of St. Mark with a fair +measure of agreement. Then, when the coffee had come in, and they +had I become friends at ease and amity, the Bishop told Smythe +the boys' tale. + +Smythe grew curiously white and seemed angry. + +Then he laughed. 'Let's have 'em in and hear their yarn!' he +said. + +So Jack and Jim were sent for, and, after some slight delay, +appeared. They were well washed and in their Sunday clothes. They +were disposed to be deferential enough, but withal very +confident, both of them. They cast somewhat awed glances at +Smythe in his armchair, but they told their tale clearly on the +whole, in fair Biblical English, Jack first, slowly, and Jim, at +a great pace, after his superior. Smythe appeared to be busily +consulting a reference while Jim was ending. There was a pause. +Then the guest looked up from his book and stated his alibi: 'I +was in my stable, sitting up with a sick horse,' he said. 'I came +away long after the church service was over when the poor beast +died with frothing at the nose. You can ask my stable-boy.' + +Jack bowed his head respectfully. 'Your stableboy, Mutenu, has +told me so this evening,' he said. 'But, O master, why should we +lie? Is it not known that people have been seen in two places at +one time'?' + +Smythe frowned. He was not anxious to discuss hypotheses with +natives. Then the Bishop told the boys that he had heard enough. +Let them think that although they had spoken truth, they had been +mistaken. + +'How do you explain it?' said the Bishop rather eagerly when they +had gone out. + +'O,' said Smythe with a rather bitter smile, 'supposing it not to +be a native lie--natives have been known to lie, my lord--it's +the sort of story one reads about in the Middle Ages, the sort of +legend likely to linger. He was seen going into a church on a +certain ill-starred night.' + +The Bishop gave a start and interrupted him. 'Do you know what +yesterday evening was? Why, it was Saint Mark's Eve.' + +Smythe smiled a queer livid smile. 'Yes, I thought of that all +along, since the boy mentioned the porch,' he said. 'I've just +been looking up the old belief in that new book of yours. I was +seen going in, therefore I must look to go out in these next +twelve months. + +A year, a month, a week, a natural day +That Faustus may repent and save his soul! +O lente, lente currite, noctis equi! +The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, +The devil will come, and Faustus will be damn'd. + +The Bishop smiled at the quotation, but looked anxiously at his +guest. Was he really taking his subliminal self's choice of date +to heart? He proceeded to recount his own unfaith in thirteen's +black magic, also in the traditional properties of salt and +broken mirrors. He gave instances of disproof in his own unended +career. + +But Smythe, though he laughed with him, seemed rather restrained +and silent: the last hour of that evening appeared to hang fire +somehow. Towards the end of it, Smythe talked of his wife. 'She +is at her old home,' he said, and mentioned a village very near +to Oxford. + +'I know,' said his host, looking into the wood fire. He was +watching the Cherwell swirl through a narrow archway. He was +conscious of heavenly blue in the white limbo ceiling above him, +and the cushions of his chair had a grassy feel. + +'She's gone home,' said Smythe, 'and she's not well, and I've not +been well.' + +'You look as if you want rest and change,' said the Bishop +uneasily. + +'I think of going a trip to the old country,' said Smythe. 'I was +born out here, and haven't ever seen it. I'd like to see it +once.' + +'O, do go,' said his host. 'It is worth going far. Yes, all that +long way.' + +Not many minutes after they said good-night. + +But the Bishop did not go to bed at once after his guest had +gone. He reached for his Keats, and read, 'The Eve of Saint +Mark'; then he reflected. + +'Strange are the uses of leper windows,' he thought. 'How I +should like to know what I may know this time next year, if only +I didn't know I'd better not know it now! Well, be it a sign or a +mock sign, God see him through with it!' + +Conyers Smythe started home by the next mail boat save one. The +same boat carried a letter in the Bishop's handwriting to a +pastoral divine in Oxford. + +'He's a sick sheep, anyhow,' said the writer, 'and I've a +presentiment that he mayn't last out a year.' + +As it befell, Conyers Smythe died rather suddenly in England +before November was over. People remarked on the dreadfulness of +the event. But Mrs. Smythe bore the shock bravely, as if she had +been well prepared to bear it. It seemed that she had known the +truth about his heart-disease in May, almost as soon as he was +told it by the London doctor. Smythe had grown to be intimate in +those last months with two or three English scholars one was an +expert in tribal cults, and the other was that pastoral divine. +It was one or other of these Oxford friends of his who sent on +his last letter to the Bishop in December after he had gone away. +Among other messages, the letter brought this one: + +'There was something in that Saint Mark's Eve business I suppose. +But I had had my warnings before of an event that is likely +enough to occur this very week. I am glad indeed that I came home +and saw things from other sides before the end. Perhaps those +crowded-out Kaffirs by your leper windows hurried me up with +their intelligence. I am grateful to them for that. Otherwise I +might have delayed, and never started on the home voyage. + +'You must make some allowance for my old point of view, as I was +born into it. But now I want to give both Transepts to the Glory +of God on condition that colored folk and natives shall, have +them to themselves undisturbed. Forgive my narrow-mindedness, but +I'd rather have it so than have all races mixed up together, and +perhaps they'd rather have it so themselves! No, I really don't +think I'm dying in the creed of the tribal god Xanthos, but in +the faith of Someone bigger. I can trust you to befriend me at +some altar of His. . . . I wish I could afford the Tower.' + +'Alms!' said the Bishop. 'Thank God they'll not be built now by +bazaars or fancy fairs or even by cafes-chantants. Poor base-born +little churches out here, that one so often hears of, aren't they +only too likely to grow up into the temples of the tribal god?' + +Thus the Transepts were destined to be of purer lineage than +Chancel or Nave or Lady-chapel. Only the Leper Windows are their +equals in descent as yet among their fellow-buildings. But there +is good hope of an honorable birth for the yet unborn Tower. + + + +THE BURNT OFFERING A SEQUEL TO 'THE LEPER WINDOWS' + + + +['The Headman made it generally known that he expected all the +men, both Christian and heathen, to subscribe to the funds. One +man refused to give anything, and was taken before the Magistrate +in consequence.' Extract from a South African Church paper, +December 22, 1910.] + + + +The transepts had been built and blessed, the five leper windows +were no longer over-crowded. Xanthos and Melanthos, gods of the +fair and the swart skins, had in a measure met together, and in a +sense kissed each other. Much remained to be achieved in the +matter of mutual good understanding, and much more again in the +supercession of these tribal deities by a Greater. + +On the other hand, something had been done to teach the devotees +of Xanthos toleration and a spirit of alms. The Bishop now turned +his attention towards Melanthos more particularly what could he +do to ennoble the aims and methods of his clients? He had made a +journey to England and back not long before the blessing of the +transepts. He regretted leaving his flock at the time. Yet +certain observations he had made just ere he started gave him +much food for thought on the voyage. And when he was home in the +old country he was glad to find time and occasion to observe +afresh, supplementing Africa by Europe, intuitions by research. + +The Rev. Charles Topready, a keen missionary, had asked him to +visit him the week before he went homewards. It was the season +when that countryside threshed out its millet-grain in a revel +of rhythmic labor. The Bishop delighted in some of those airs +that the sticks beat time to. He was greedy of fantastic +interpretations as he wrote their voweled refrains down in a +note-book. + +'We may have a Harvest Thanksgiving in church, may we not, this +coming Sunday?' he said. + +Now Harvest Thanksgivings were as red rags to Topready. 'Why +should we bind upon Africa a burden that irks England?' he +groaned. 'Surely it is a mercy that we can start afresh on the +veld with no tradition of a Feast of Pumpkins.' + +The Bishop smiled and smoked and argued by the hour. His point +was that festivals of the soil were serviceable for sons of +the soil. That agricultural festivals were serviceable for +husbandmen, pastoral feasts for shepherds and goat-herds, hunting +commemorations like that of Saint Hubert, for those who hunted. +His knowledge of Greece and Rome, pagan and Christian, of +mediaeval England and modern Brittany helped him with many apt +illustrations. Topready stuck out his chin and kept bravely to +his two points the danger of materialism and the menace to the +spiritual cults and festas of Holy Church as by law established +in the England of to-day. + +'All right,' said the Bishop, 'let us have no Harvest +Thanksgiving for the tillage of African earth. That is to say not +this year. But keep an open mind.' Topready promised dubiously. + +That struggle and waiving of victory had put the Bishop on his +mettle. He had thought out the subject to some purpose before +they met again. + +Here are some pages from his English diary: + +Sept. 21. Preached at a Thanksgiving in Essex. 'Happy harvest +fields,' quiet tints in the Vicarage garden. A sun that seemed to +make better use of a short day than an African sun would of a +long one. What a festival Topready might have just about this +time if he only liked. The masasas tinted with copper, crimson; +mauve, and pink, and other leaves showing faery green and gold. + +Saint Matthew's Day. The festival of the foolery of riches when +Spring is everywhere and the sun is shining. + +Oct. (date illegible). Preached at the blessing of the boats in a +small Sussex harbor the herring season just beginning. What +glorious girls' names some of the boats had that we prayed for +'Diana Elizabeth,' for instance, might have sailed out of the +'Faerie Queene.' + +Nov. 1 (All Saints'). Went to church at Saint Paul's in a side +chapel. + +Nov. 2 (All Souls'). Went to pray in a cemetery chapel. + +Both were misty mornings, but the sun each day came out before we +had done, and broke through the dingy windows in a carnage of +color. How fine a side of death, November, the month of the dead, +presents here. Damp and fog and fall of the leaf doubtless the +sorryness of the bad business of decay and punishment but on the +other hand what bravery of sunlight at times, and what colors for +the sun to shine upon. In Africa it's so different. There the +month is a spring month. The gay side of death as a release from +Africa's plentiful curses and bondages is happily prominent. All +Saints' Day our May Day our Feast of Flora and the Rosa Mystica! +What a day for converts suckled in animism! Let us commemorate +the African Saints with garlands of spring flowers as well as +with palms in their hands. Have written to Topready to suggest a +May-Day Festival with African drums to dance to, if no English +May-pole to plait. + +Jan. 21 (St. Agnes' Day). Went to a down church, where they had a +sort of special service. Lambing-time among the South Downs just +coming on. The sacrifice pleaded with one main request in view +the blessing on the flocks. If they had only brought some lambs +in! I hope to live to see some pied African lambs and kids in +church yet. + +June 21. Went to Stonehenge on the longest day. Would have camped +out there on the eve if the policeman would have let me. Took +observations as to Flame-Stone. Compared notes with those I took +at Zimbabwe this time last year on my way to Topready's. + +June 24 (Saint John). Yes, in African Mission Stations we should +have St. John's Fires or fires corresponding to them about +Christmas time. + +Then in Mashonaland, summer is at height. Yes, the other Saint +John's Day, or its Eve, would do. Let us give thanks for the +Light of the World and the Sun of Righteousness symbolized by +things seen and enjoyed. What did Saint Patrick do about the +sacred fire? He kept it going, didn't he? Let us light our +bonfires with a good will this coming Christmastide we who live +by sun-time so often. + + + +Back from England came the Bishop full of the lore of early +missions. He had enriched his zeal for broad-basing the people's +worship on their own everyday earth, and for enlightening things +opaque with effulgences invisible. He saw his way more clearly to +further what he had at heart. Topready had had many letters, and +they had had their effect. But he had not capitulated yet. He +capitulated at a price, as we shall see. + +'Church ready by Christmas,' wrote Topready, 'please come and +consecrate.' 'Expect me the day after,' telegraphed the Bishop. +He thought about a bonfire as he rode along on that Saint +Stephen's Day. 'The kopje above the Mission!' he reflected. 'A +magnificent place for a beacon-fire.' + +To his delight the new church crowned the very kopje he had been +thinking of. There it stood on the sky-line, its gold of fresh +thatch crowned a huge pole building, and was itself crowned by a +white cross. + +'How fine!' said the Bishop to himself, 'but there's no room up +there for a bonfire as well, alas!' + +Topready did not look over-cheerful when his leader greeted him +with congratulations on the building of the church. + +'It's all very well, or rather it might have been ever so much +better,' he said, as they went in. + +In the evening there was much time to talk. They sat on the stony +rise above the house with a wide valley view. The starlight was +brilliant above them eager, perfervid, passionate. They were on +the rocks smoking, the Bishop between Topready and Manners, who +was not a parson, but a policeman. + +'It's like this,' said Topready. 'Holy Innocents' is the first +church that has been built since I came here. It was built on a +system.' + +He explained roughly how it worked. The native teacher used his +personal and official majesty for what it was worth. The people +on the Mission ground were asked for poles, grass, work, &c. +'These were given,' said Topready, 'or at least "given" is the +word that I understand my predecessor would have chosen. The +headman proclaimed that his will coincided with the will of the +native teacher. They wanted a church built that would compare +favorably with churches erected under the auspices of other +native teachers and other headmen. + +'The contributions came in plentifully, sylvan or grassy. People +who never come to church, heathens who do not seem much overjoyed +with the Gospel, gave just as handsomely as Church officers. No +one was paid. The church is cheap and big, and the headman and +native teacher are both unhealthily contented.' + +'Well, what's the matter?' said Manners; 'it's the way we do +these little things in Africa. White men don't build churches +from base to spire on ideal principles exactly, do they. Bishop?' + +'At least we haven't had a cafe chantant lately,' the Bishop +said. + +'Well, don't you be too sure one isn't going on in some outlying +parish while we sit here. As it happens, I know of one advertised +for next month.' + +'Be sure of your facts,' said the Bishop. + +'Anyhow, before you came, plenty of the society lash used to be +applied to get church-building doles out of Europeans. Moreover, +if you look into it, generally you'll find things at Missions +much as you find them here. These gloriously "given" Mission +churches on Mission lands that the home magazine ecstasizes over +are not given so very freely, to say the least of it. They are +put up by a sort of social pressure immensely effective,' +Topready broke in. + +'They say most of the churches this side of the river are built +the one way and I don't like the one way. Archdeacon Maynard used +to advocate the one way, and impress it on his missionaries black +and white. It was he who started the church-rate and debarred +defaulters from Easter Communion. I've stopped that, and I want +to stop the one way.' + +The Bishop groaned. 'Archdeacon Maynard's a vice-president of the +Free and Open Churchmen in England. I heard him speak eloquently, +if a little floridly, on the right of the poor to the House of +God.' + +Manners chuckled. 'England's some way off,' he said. + +Topready spoke from his heart. 'I don't like it. I told the +people that the proper way was for Christians and philo-Christians +to build accordingly as they could spare money and time. But they +said that they were too few. I answered "Then let them wait in the old +church awhile." They said they wanted a new church this year, and that +the heathen should be called to help the faithful as in other places. +They said they ought to have a kraal levy as other places did it saved +a great deal of trouble. They thought me mad, I think. Azariah, the +teacher, practically told me so.' + +The Bishop lit his pipe again. + +'We'll think about it,' he said. 'The consecration is fixed for +the day after to-morrow, is it not? It was to be christened Holy +Innocents' Church on Childermas Day, was it not? Will you have it +consecrated on the Eve instead, Saint John's Night? Time Sunset.' + +Topready started. 'Rather late, is it not?' he asked. + +It was a great concourse that lined the hillside on the morrow +when the sun was going down. The Bishop had spoken that morning +in the old plain church of how he wished them to observe certain +days of prayer and thanksgiving. + +He asked them to keep a festival of flocks on Saint Agnes' Day. + +He asked them to keep a festival of herds on Saint Luke's Day. + +He asked them to keep the feasts of Loaf-Mass in August and +Wood-Mass in September as feasts of Harvest and Forestry. + +He asked them to keep a thanksgiving for summer after Christmas +on the night of Saint John, if they and their priest thought +good. + +He spoke of how the heathen had worshipped the sun in the grey +northern lands. Then Christians better taught had thanked Christ, +the Light of the World, for the glory of the sun, and lighted +their joy-fires to a better purpose. + +Doubtless, some in this land long ago, not only at Zimbabwe, but +on many hills and high places, had honored the strong sun of the +South. He asked them as Christians to be glad for that same sun's +blessings at Christmas time. It seemed to him good for those who +wished it (he gave no law) for those to light their bonfires +to-night and to thank God not only for the summer, but for the Sun +of righteousness. He himself had a mind to light a fire on that +Saint John's Night to the glory of God. + +Topready looked thoughtful after church. 'If I adopt your +calendar loyally as far as may be, do you see your way to help me +against the system?' he asked of a sudden. His grey-blue eyes +were full of fight. + +The Bishop nodded. He talked with him quietly a little while. + +'The pact is made, then?' said Topready. 'No, I don't think we +have sold our convictions, either of us. I don't feel penitent +about my side of the bargain.' + +'I feel it's a holy alliance,' said the Bishop, and his face +glowed. 'People will keep this night, and remember what was done +on it, may be, long after we are forgotten.' + +That sunset a mighty crowd was there among the rocks. Much dead +wood had been brought. Fathers, mothers, and children in costumes +that ranged from skins to European fashions shouldered or headed +their faggots.' A grim thought obsessed the Bishop as he watched +them. These people, so quiet and yielding as to the selling of +sacrament, and levying of church vote how easily they might be +swayed to more sinister reminiscences of the Middle Ages! If he +and Topready and Azariah and the headman enjoined it, what would +save certain aged heathen neighbors from an auto-da-fe for +alleged witchcraft one of these nights? Were not some of those +old scenes at the stake much like this scene before him? Did not +country people come together much as these, with dark impassive +faces and bundles of firewood? Did not they listen and listen so, +until the time came to pile faggots to the glory of God? + +He stood on a rock and looked down on the faces. Topready stood +close beneath him looking cheerful, the native teacher was near +looking dubious, next to him stood the headman with his white +beard, looking amused. Around them the crowd poised and posed +itself among the rocks with innate grace and imposing silence. +Even the babies in the goatskins were quiet. + +The Bishop spoke of alms-giving. He said he did not like their +plan of raising a house for Christ. Let people who loved Christ +build churches if they wished to, but let them build churches +according to their power to give! Let them not seek the labor or +money of others, careless how it came! Rather let them worship in +the old and the small, than build a new and great church anyhow! +He, their Bishop, wished to buy their new church from them, +paying back those who had helped to build, giving to each his +due. He asked them, would they sell this church to him, to do +with it as seemed to him good? If, when they built, they had +made, as it were, a false start, let them start again, and this +time so run that they might obtain the Promises of Christ. Would +they sell their church to him? + +He waited for an answer. + +There was a hush. The eyes that watched him seemed almost +overwhelming in their vigilance. + +His eyes went wistfully off to the sky in front of him. What +beaches of gold and weed-tangles of rose-color those were to the +north-west the way of England. + +Suddenly the silence was broken. + +Azariah spoke out bravely. He had heard the words of his +herdsman, and he knew that he had' gone astray, even like a lost +bull. As for this thatched cattle-byre that they had built, let +him who asked for it have it! Was it not his own? + +One after another spoke. Their speeches all had the same import +let the church be handed over to him that asked. + +A roar of acclamation worth many speeches went up from the +hill-side Then the Bishop asked those who carried faggots to follow +him to the consecration. His shepherd's staff went before him. An +earthen vessel smoked with incense in front of that again. He +followed up the steep path in his shining robes. Behind him came +blazing grass torches, and behind them again wood-carriers. When +they reached the hill's crown there was some delay in the +gathering dusk. They were stacking the wood for the sacrifice. At +last Topready turned to his chief with a happy face. All was +prepared. The Bishop's voice rang out in one sonorous prayer of +oblation. Then someone handed him a grass torch and he kindled +the thatch above the altar. The church that misbegotten innocent +flamed up toward heaven amber and grey and crimson under the +stars. + + + +EIGHT-EIGHT IN LAVENDER + + + +Andrew Vine came out to Africa this year as a pilgrim, and was +disappointed. He did not go about his pilgrimage in the right way +to my thinking. For to begin with, on his own confession, he put +himself in the hands of a born organizer, who was making up a +party of fellow-travelers. + +Of course they were provided with first-class tickets for the +boat, and enjoyed for sixteen days and more, in a same and narrow +scene, an amplitude of the luxuries they were used to, and tired +of. Then, dogged by a diet befitting that state to which it had +pleased Providence to call them, they rode the Great North Road +for some days in a northern express. Vine said that the Victoria +Falls were all right, but that their surroundings were, many of +them, perversely wrong. It was so very stale, the hotel business, +with the moonlight river excursions and the Livingstone trips, +far too much sleeked and smoothed by foresight, and tamed by +taking of thought. If one had only traveled up with pack donkeys, +provisioned with leathery meat and leathery damper! For Vine had +known better times in Africa. He had known pioneer adventures in +his headstrong youth but had fallen out of his Column after three +crowded months. Tempted of fever, he had made a great refusal. +And now in this year, twenty-four years after, the sense of +having seen better days at a tithe of the expense, oppressed him. + +However, the tickets had been taken, and the splendidly null +organization of their party had him in its grip. He went back +from the Falls to Bulawayo, and was whisked out to Khami. Only an +hour was allowed him to see the river. At the grave of the +Matopos, he was allowed two hours. There a brooding Presence +grappled with the languors of his pilgrimage. The demoniac +discontent of that savage scene made great play with him, during +the two hours he was there, but two hours are not a very long +time. Soon they were scorching back again with an interval for +tea at a well (or ill) appointed hotel. Vine was disposed to give +up the dreary pilgrimage-game that very night, he told me. But +the born organizer, coming to him after dinner, persuaded him to +play it out. He offered to release him after the next lap the lap +of Great Zimbabwe. When that was once finished to time, he +proposed that the party should have a breather, a short spell of +civilized life at Salisbury, should it so seem good to them. Vine +could be spared for the space of that interlude. Afterwards he +would doubtless take boat with them for a cruise up the East +Coast. He would be sufficiently reinvigorated to rough it out +with them rigorously to the end. The East Coast route might not +entail quite so many hardships. Vine sighed, but he was a man of +his word. He went to Zimbabwe without a murmur. He had longed for +seventy-five miles of the dusty Umvuma post-cart, but alas, the +day was the third of the new month! The railway extension to +Victoria had been opened on the first. The organizer rubbed his +hands as he told them the glad news: 'We can have a dining-car +and sleeping berths now to within sixteen miles odd of the ruins. +We shan't need to fare so ruggedly after all. A lunch at the +"Apes and Peacocks" Hotel is about the worst of it. But we can +take out a Fortnum and Mason's hamper in the road-car that meets +us.' + +So they went to the ruins. Vine, who, as a pioneer had seen the +'Temple's' torso shaggy in bush and long grass, hardly knew it +again. It had been shaven and shorn rather ruthlessly. Some of +the ruins, he noted ungratefully, were numbered to correspond +with a catalogue. There was, moreover, the glamorous sheen of a +wire fence about the whole place. + +A curator participated as guide by special arrangement. A local +celebrity accompanied him; he stood for the faith of Ophir, and +smote the Egyptologist adversary not once nor twice alone. He +confessed to the ladies of the party his conviction that the +theory of an African origin was too inconceivably squalid. He +stood for the gorgeous East, he said, as against Kaffirdom. He +would not insult the culture that they brought with them by +bothering them with detailed arguments. + +Meanwhile another local celebrity was employed in bossing up some +restoration work. Primitive walls were receiving trained modern +attention, and medical attendance, regardless of expense. + +Vine came to me at Umvuma when the Zimbabwe visitation was over +and done. He was seeing his party off by the Salisbury train +when he caught sight of me on the platform. That night he smoked +and slept by an ox-wagon. Bread was to hand in rather frugal +measure, but there was great plenty of monkey-nuts. There was +also bush-tea, and Vine brought much tobacco. We smoked till long +after the moon set, and that was near midnight. He told me of +disappointments that had come to him through his pilgrimage being +over well-appointed. + +'After all,' I said, 'you might try again next year.' + +'But a year's a lot at my age. I was forty-five last month, and I +don't mean coming out again. + +'So little done, so much to do, So many worlds, such things to +be.' + +'Where shall we go to this week?' he went on. 'I've got a week +off from the Cook's combination. You'll give me the one week, +won't you Shall we go to Dhlo-Dhlo or Nanatali or Sinoia Caves? +It's the curse of our Cook's tour that it's mopped up the sacred +places I did want to see in a decent way the Grave, and the +Temple, and the Falls.' + +'Yours is the very snobbery of pilgrimage,' I told him sternly. +'There are surely shrines on the veld that have never yet got +into a Chartered Company's guide-book.' I told him of a modest +set of ruins out our way. I couldn't well come with him in any +direction, north, south, or east or west, as he seemed to think I +could. I might get in five days between Sunday and Sunday, if he +chose our own neighborhood. He seemed glad enough to agree. + +We cut food down and loads, and we started. We camped within the +precincts of the shrine, hard by a place where a fire-fused +chalice had been dug out. Ours was a fair camping-ground. A ring +of kopjes about it wore the sun's colors. To the east a spruit +was in sight, overhung in that autumn month by the mists of +morning. Within those precincts we dreamed some temple-dreams on +two golden afternoons, and slept temple-sleep on two very shiny +nights. + +'My reformed pilgrimage has justified itself,' Vine told me on +the morning that we left, when we were making for my station. + +'Wait a bit,' I said. 'We are arriving if all falls well, this +very night at another shrine. We have not done with our Pilgrims' +Way.' + +That night we came to the farm-house where the Kents farmed and +missionized. I had expected Vine to like it and them, but I had +not guessed how much attracted he would be. The Kents were not +up-to-date, and they dressed as some people dressed in England +twenty-five years before in the period of their leaving home. + +So Mrs. Kent wore on that night a chocolate-brown Liberty costume +of a Burne Jones pattern. Miss Kent was only twenty-two, and wore +rose-color, but the design of her dress was her mother's own. +Kent wore an eighties collar with old-oak plaid and a red tie, I +did not like his taste. + +Vine sat and watched them with a reverential sort of gaze. He +asked Kent when they were going home, thoughtfully. But Kent told +him that they did not think of going home again, only up the +coast to Zanzibar, or down to Inhambane, when they wanted change +and holiday. 'That's splendid,' said Vine emphatically. 'Don't go +home. It's not what it used to be. I feel sure you would not like +it.' + +After supper we had music, and Kent kept on singing, at Vine's +particular request. I did not take much notice of what he was +singing till Vine came and spoke to me. Then I saw how excited he +was, and I listened with attention. + +'Do you remember that?' he said. 'It was the song that Oriel man +used to sing.' Then I recognized 'Our Last Waltz,' and afterwards +'In Sweet September.' I remembered both as the songs of a man +whose wedding we both had attended, in the very year that we went +down. + +We shared a hut behind the mission homestead, and shared much +converse before we slept. + +'It's purple and gold,' Vine said. 'I came out to find a beastly +ruin.' + +'And you find the Victorian Sixth Decade mummified,' I said. + +'Don't sneer!' + +'Well, pressed in lavender,' I amended. + +For early did'st thou leave the world, with powers +Fresh, undiverted to the world without, +Firm to their mark, not spent on other things; +Free from the sick fatigue, the languid doubt, +Which much to have tried, in much been baffled, brings. + +'That describes Kent's Hegira, doesn't it? He's stopped where we +two were, when we went down, in ever so many ways.' + +'Hurray!' cried Vine, tossing his boot up, 'I came out to find a +beastly ruin, and I've found my lost youth, nothing more nor +less! Bless you!' + +But his ecstasy was to culminate on the following morning. Kent +had mounted him on one of his two mules, and piloted him on the +other to see some Bush paintings three miles away. + +I grew a little uneasy, they were so long gone, for I knew well +what a lot of country lay between us and my own mission station. +I was due there by sunrise or soon after, on the morrow. Mrs. +Kent was strumming away on the piano old dance tunes that I +remembered barrel-organ melodies of now remote days, days when a +bi-weekly shave sufficed me. I stood in the doorway and beat +time. Whenever were we going to get started at this rate? At last +the mules came cantering up the wagon-road. + +'Get a move on,' I shouted to Vine as he pulled up before the +door. But just at that moment Mrs. Kent began on 'The Reign of +the Roses.' Vine, who had kicked a foot out of its stirrup, did +not dismount. He sat drinking in the dance-measure. Louder and +louder she played the air, and, humming it over, he drove his +foot home. Shaking up the reins, he cantered his mule round and +round the sun-dial in front of the door. Round and round he went, +still humming, while those wiry and sun-burnt wrists pounded away +at the dance-music. + +'How long is this going on?' I pleaded. I began to see the humor +of the thing when I watched our carriers. They were gaping as at +a new kind of circus. At last Mrs. Kent gave over, not very soon, +however; the melody was evidently a favorite of hers. + +'Is there not a cause?' pleaded Vine, when he had dismounted +lingeringly, and was facing my reproaches for his wanton delay. +He muttered something about a merry-go-round. Afterwards he +explained, when we were making up for lost time along the big +vlei. + +'It was that night when we got to Goring,' he reminded me, 'when +we went down to Henley in that double-sculler at the end of our +first summer term 1888, the first week in July. There was a +village fair on that night, and we rode round on the horses, ever +so many pennyworths. That was the tune I remembered best of all +the tunes that the steam-organ played. Don't you remember?' And +strange to say, I did. + +He played the game with the organizer, rapt though he was by his +memory of the steam-organ, I will say that much for him. He took +the trouble to go all the way up to Salisbury, and to beg him to +have him excused. And he was successful. I don't quite know what +excuse he gave. It was scarcely likely to be so crude as the +excuse I guessed at, 'I want to marry a wife, and therefore I +cannot go.' He unbosomed himself to me engagingly when he came +back from Salisbury. He appealed to my compassionate sympathy. + +'Just fancy! Forty-five and no real home!' he said, 'And here +I've come on pilgrimage, and found just what I've unconsciously +craved youth and beauty up-to-date, not this date but the date of +my own unforgotten youth 1888 in lavender, so to speak.' + +I wished him luck in his wooing of Miss Kent. If Mrs. Kent had +been a widow, I should have thought her much more suitable. He +gave the bridle-reins a shake, and rode away on an old salted +horse he had bought, walking had grown much too slow for him. + +He won Joan Kent, and fixed it up with her late-Victorian parents +to their mutual content. + +The wedding date is chosen already it is June 20th a day hallowed +enough, having twice been Jubilee Day. I think Vine would have +preferred May 24th as having been Victoria Day. But Joan objected +to her wedding taking place in Our Lady's May month. + + + +DIVINATION + + + +I have a friend who lives some miles away, among fantastic rocks +and crimson-flowered Kaffir trees. I was over at his homestead +one day in Christmas week last year and found that he was absent. +He was sleeping at a trading-station to east, the boys said, and +would not be back for a day or so. But he had left word with them +to give me supper should I come. So I had time to notice a +change. + +Three or four very cool and fresh water-colors adorned his walls. +They were pinned up there under a trophy of harness. Under each +oblong of paper was a title in old English characters. One was +named 'Sundown.' another 'Sun-up' these both showed the homestead +not as it was now in mid-summer, but as I remembered it in late +winter or early spring, with some of the trees in full flower. + +The other picture showed a charming group of children variously +colored among the rocks. I feasted my eyes on it for quite a long +while, noting its detail, which bewildered me. Surely no such +scene had been witnessed lately in all South Africa. Yet I knew +the rocks of the scene; they were close by, and the children were +painted some of them with familiar-looking faces. The title +underneath was 'Innocents.' + +I did not see my friend for a week or so after that, and when I +did I did not think at first to ask about the pictures. However, +he began to tell the story of them himself. He was talking about +men on the road, a class with which he had a large acquaintance, +having lodged many of them. 'I had one here last week,' he said, +'a white man in clean white ducks. He stopped two nights, and +went outside painting most of the days. He gave me three +pictures. He could paint, couldn't he? I couldn't catch his name, +and he said he wasn't sure where he was going to stop next. But +he went up the Rosebery Road, and seemed to know his way about. +He hadn't got a bag, and he traveled very light just a blanket or +so and a loaf of bread and a cup. I shouldn't think he'd come to +much harm, would he?' I shook my head. 'He could paint, couldn't +he?' he said, glancing up at the pictures. I nodded. 'That's a +fancy picture,' I said; 'that of the children a pretty fancy. I +wonder what it means.' My friend Dick meditated. 'I don't see +much wrong in the painting anyhow,' he said. + +The picture was indeed a pretty fancy there were children white +and black in it, and lambs and kids. The white children were +mixed up with the black curiously. One little sturdy Mashona +carried a white child in his arms. A white boy with fair hair, +aged nine or ten, carried a Mashona baby in a goat's skin +strapped to his back. The light of dawn was in the picture a cool +summer dawn. Between the rocks and the red-sprayed trees of our +country was, as it were, a lawn, close-bit by much feeding into a +fair copy of an English lawn. I looked hard at the picture. + +'Those two Mashonas are like the children that were burnt in a +kraal this way,' I said pointing. 'I tried to dress their burns +but they both died.' Dick looked up as I pointed, but he said +nothing. He eschews dwelling on painful subjects very often, I +notice. 'Don't you think that they are like?' I asked. + +'Kaffir children favor one another,' Dick said sagely. He stood +watching the picture on the faded wall in silence. Then we +dropped the subject. But the mystery of it remained for me. + +A week or two after, that mystery multiplied. Dick was expecting +visitors, and he asked me over to meet them. The male visitor was +an official I used to know of old; he was to bring his sister +with him this time, and the sister I did not know. She was a +charming person; one who had been in the country a long time ago +and left it, but had come back again now to be married and to +make a home in Rosebery. She had reached the homestead about +mid-day, the same day that I came over in the late afternoon. + +After tea and before dinner we walked down to the cattle-kraal, +all four of us. Then, when Dick and her brother were ahead she +began to question me about that water-color on the wall. I told +her what Dick had told me. 'He told me that himself,' she said, +'but I didn't understand.' + +'I thought I knew two of the children,' I said, 'but Kaffir +children seem much alike to our English eyes, don't they? They +seemed to me to resemble two quite little children I used to come +and see. They were badly burnt near here.' + +She started. + +'Did they get better?' she asked. I shook my head. She started +again. 'Listen,' she said. 'Two children to whom I used to be +nursery-governess were murdered in the "Rebellion" on a farm +close to this very place. They were staying with their mother's +elder sister. Please do try and tell me this. Why are these +portraits, life-like portraits, of those two children in this +picture?' + +I stared at her rather stupidly. Then Dick came to us we, were +close up to the cattle-kraal and called us to come and see his +young stock, and talked to us about them. + +'I don't think I'll tell the children's mother,' she said to me. +I was then saying good-night to her in the bright moonlight +outside the homestead door some hours afterwards. 'They live in +the colony now, she and her husband. Telling her might reopen +deep wounds. It wouldn't do any good at all probably, would it?' + +'That depends,' I said, 'on the mother's point of view. You're +sure about the likeness?' She gave a sort of sob. + +'Trust me for that,' she said. 'I was very fond of them of Claude +and Polly.' + +This last dry season, by the ordering of God, that mother came +our way herself. She was on a pilgrimage of her own. Dick sent +over a messenger hot-haste to tell me that a lady was at his +place and had asked for me. She wanted me to spare the morning +to-morrow if I possibly could. She would have me come on an +expedition with her and talk over something that she had in her +mind to do. Couldn't I sleep at Dick's homestead that night? + +I could. I came over about nine o'clock I suppose, walking in a +fresh south-easter with a half-moon to light me. Dick was smoking +outside in the yard when I came. + +'The lady's tired,' he told me. 'She's turned in already. She's +got a lad with her. He's inside. Come in and have some supper.' + +The stranger rose up as I came in, and I greeted him. He was a +tall, fair boy, whose face I seemed to know. He told me that he +had driven his mother down, as I sat over my supper. I glanced up +at the wall curiously before I had finished. The picture was not +there. + +'I thought it was better out of the way,' Dick said when his +guest had gone to bed. 'I didn't know how she might take it. It's +the mother of those poor little Scotch children come to see the +place. Wants to put up a gravestone or monument or something, +poor lady!' + +Then I knew where I had seen the stranger boy's face. It was the +image of his dead brother's face in the picture, the white +piccaninny that carried the Mashona baby. I whistled softly. + +'Who painted that picture?' I said. 'I know all yon told me. But +did that chap ever come down the road again? I never asked you.' + +'No,' said Dick, 'I don't know to this day any more about him.' + +I sat silent. + +'She wants you to go over to the place with her to-morrow,' Dick +said. 'You know the place, don't you? It's only about three miles +away up the old wagon road; you've been there, haven't you?' + +'Yes,' I said. 'There's a wooden cross where they're buried or +should be. I had it renewed two years ago. Didn't I ever tell you +about it? Haven't you been there yourself lately?' + +'No,' said Dick. 'I don't fancy the place somehow. But I was +asking about it only this afternoon. The boys tell me there are +some trees there still; white men's trees.' + +'Yes,' I said, 'yellow peach-stocks and one gumtree you get it +against the skyline looking up from the spruit. The old pole and +daub house dropped to pieces long ago. I do hope that cross is +standing all right still. I blame myself for not having seen +about it this last year or two.' + +The cross had fallen down and the place looked generally forlorn +when we reached it next day. I was troubled about my companion. +She was fair and tall and quiet. When she did talk on the way she +talked about commonplace subjects. But when she saw the forsaken +place and the displaced cross the veil fell. She clutched her +son's arm hard, and I left them together. I went off with the +Mashona boy and the mules out of the way. I had no inspiration at +the moment what to say or what to do. I did not come back for +half an hour. + +She told me on the drive back that she wanted to provide somewhat +of a memorial. 'It's been left too long,' she said. 'But you can +understand how sore I was before and how I shrank from coming.' + +She told me that one great grief of hers was that she had no good +likeness of her children as they were at that dreadful time. I +was embarrassed and silent. 'What can I do to help you?' I was +thinking over and over again, 'Shall I show the picture? Yes, +right or wrong, I must.' + +I didn't know how to begin to tell her about it. I prayed for +words. Then I began in curt crisp sentences to tell her. 'You may +not like it. You must not be disappointed,' I said. 'Why?' she +asked. But I did not try to explain. I would let the picture +plead its own point of view. When we were back I asked Dick for +it, and I knocked at her room door and gave if to her. + +Then I went out and watched a team ploughing, till Dick called me +in. + +At lunch the guests were very quiet and subdued, but seemed quite +cheerful. Afterwards, before I started for home, she came and +talked to me alone. + +'Is this the scene of the picture?' she asked me, as she led me +across the yard. 'This grass plot between these rocks and those +trees?' + +'Yes, it's just here apparently,' I said. 'You see that great +tree there. One can hardly mistake it.' + +'I remember the spot long ago,' she said. 'I came down to my +sister's to leave the children with her for a country holiday +just before that time. We were staying at that place we went to +this morning; they called it Happy Valley, and we drove over to +this place where there was a store. It was only a month or two +before the time May Day, I think. I remember my children playing +hide-and-seek here with the piccaninnies; yes, playing other +games too.' Her lips quivered, but she went on quite steadily. + +'Those piccaninnies in that picture do you know any of their +faces?' + +'Yes,' I said, 'I knew two that were burnt, and did not get +better; two I used to come and see. And Dick says he recognizes +two or three little chaps that have died since he came here to +live after the "Rebellion" was over.' + +'And how do you explain it?' she asked gently, 'this vision of +dead children so charmingly colored, so color-blind from a South +African point of view?' + +I thought before I spoke. + +'It is, I believe, a real Vision,' I said. 'The one who painted +it, whoever he was, saw more than we most of us see. Possibly he +was the seventh son of a seventh son. Very apparently he had a +pure heart. The picture was painted on Innocents' Day. I have +verified the date. You see he has called it "Innocents." It was +painted in the children's old playing-place. He saw them in their +new life with the beauty of things South African like a good +dream about them, and the stupidity of things South African +passed from them like a bad one.' + +She did not speak for quite a long time. I feared I had hurt her +somehow. But at last she spoke and reassured me. + +'Yes, I think you understand how the picture came to be and what +it means. I used to be dreadfully bitter about the Mashonas. I +try not to be now. Couldn't you build on my account a little +school or a little church in that forlorn place? There are some +villages near by, aren't there? Couldn't you call it for me the +Mission of the Innocents? I'd like to ask my host if he'll give +you the picture for the church should you build it for me. In my +house I should be shy about hanging it. I am afraid people might +scoff at it behind my back in their South African way, and I +couldn't bear that easily. I know in my heart of hearts it's true +that Picture as true as it's beautiful. They're all happy now, +likely enough happy together. They were not likely to have been +happy in the same ways had they grown up in South Africa.' + + + +JULIAN + +I. THE SOP + + + +Julian Borne was going to leave the Mission that had been his +home for three years. He was a spruce-looking person with quite +pleasantly colored red hair and a turned-up moustache. A Bishop +had commended him, and a Canon Superintendent had delighted to +honor him. His immediate superior, a weather-beaten Missionary, +had, however, partially dissented from the chorus of approval. He +had discriminated. He credited Julian with fine gifts of +organization, but he submitted that he had proved himself lacking +in qualities of heart far too often. His discrimination had been +received coldly by the Canon Superintendent, and liberally +discounted on the scores of dullness, crankiness, want of vision, +yes jealousy. Now at last something had happened to disturb the +Canon Superintendent in his optimism, in his forecast of Julian's +brilliant usefulness to the Mission. + +Julian had suddenly decided to leave his work. He had the offer +of a congenial berth and a rising salary in the Cathedral city. +He put the thing very kindly to the Canon Superintendent. He +would help the Mission of course, wouldn't he just, when he +should climb into the seats of the mighty? He would be a +volunteer henceforward the Cause could count upon him with a +sound commercial position for his jumping-off ground. Yet the +fact remained that he was leaving his work, having loved this +present world. + +It was the day of farewell to the surroundings of the last three +years. Julian was to ride into town that afternoon. + +He went to lunch with Dick Hunter, the weather-beaten one, and +talked to him as he imagined he wanted to be talked to. He had +always liked his host's Bohemian ways very well, he was only +impatient of his preoccupation with native postulants. There was +his usual fly-swarm of them, that day as other days, about his +threshold, and lunch was late, as usual. At last they began. +Julian had the first two courses to himself for the most part, +while his host was busy once again outside. Then came a third +course. 'I had this for you,' said the host rather pathetically, +as he settled down to his bread and cheese. 'It seemed the right +thing for the farewell banquet of a Mission. It's the food of the +country.' + +Sure enough under the cover was a platter of brown millet with a +savory side dish of beans for relish. Julian flushed up. 'No +thanks, I've never tried millet pap yet, and I don't mean to,' he +said. + +His host smiled, 'As you will,' said he. 'You won't mind my +having some, will you?' He helped himself sparingly, then he +called the Mashona boy to take the dishes away. Julian the +callous felt a shade remorseful. + +'Here, let me try what it's like,' he said. His host took a piece +of the millet-food on a fork, and dipped it in the side dish. He +gave the result to Julian on a plate. 'For old sake's sake,' he +murmured. Julian nibbled away rather delicately. 'It's not so +awful,' he said. + +He was riding into Rosebery that afternoon when the incident +recurred to him. + +He had a great grip of his subjects whatever they were so long as +they were payable propositions, to use his own phrase. + +The textual study of the Bible had been accounted such a +proposition until recently. Bible-words they were now that buzzed +in his ears. + +'He it is to whom I shall give the sop when I have dipped it. And +when He had dipped the sop. . .' + +The sop, the dipping, yes, he remembered now. He had read the +words in Church two or three evenings ago. + +'He gave it to Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon.' He started. +'And after the sop, Satan entered.' He shuddered. + +He wished that incident at lunch-time had never occurred. Of +course it was pure chance, but still it was bizarre. + +Was it pure chance? 'I'm not so sure,' reflected Julian. 'I wish +Hunter'd mind his own business.' + +That farewell banquet at the Mount Pleasant Mission had left an +ill taste behind. + + + +II. THE SYMBOL OF THE SPURNED + + + +Some five years after, Julian Borne came up to Rosebery by the +early train. He awoke at dawn and threw up the window. He was +traveling in a sleeping compartment deluxe. He had appearances to +keep up now. + +The sun had tilted up a golden arc and the withered landscape +took a lavish glory. + +Julian's eyes fell on some shabby thatched roofs that the blaze +was brightening. 'Mount Pleasant Mission!' he said to himself. +'and to think I wasted three good years of my life there. Three +bob a day with rations and no drinks. Good Lord!' He filled his +pipe as the poverty-stricken homestead passed out of sight. 'Yet +it wasn't all waste,' he went on. 'I got to know the country and +its questions. I got to know how to manage men.' He laughed a +little to himself complacently. 'No, I couldn't manage Hunter. +They told me last week he was nearly dead with blackwater. I +wonder if he's dead by now. Not one head of cattle to bless +himself with, I'll bet, and no banking account ever opened in his +name. He was quite unmanageable.' + +'Ah! But I managed some of them. What about the Canon +Superintendent?' A white-haired vision, creasy-chinned and rosy, +passed before his eyes. 'Toad!' he muttered and kicked the +foot-warmer. 'Even so,' he growled. 'Butter for the clergy, palm-oil +for the laity, big stick for the incorruptible!' His face grew +hard as he thought over some contemplated applications. His face +was little changed in five years save for the wrinkles about the +eyes. + +The train drew up at the platform. Julian found a good many +acquaintances as he passed along it. But he was not disposed to +make himself too cheap. Some got a wintry nod, others a summer +smile. One high official who represented big interests got two +minutes' talk and a drink. Then Julian jumped into his mule-cart, +and drove away. He reflected with satisfaction on the quantity +and quality of the greetings that morning. Meanwhile his Cape-boy +coachman whipped up the mules and took him along the main street +in style. + +Julian had not been in Rosebery for six months now. He had made +great strides in those months the most momentous of his life. +From being a coming man he had reached the summit of arrival. He +had arrived without a doubt. His company's shares had risen +super-excellently. He had made a big coup at the end of last +year. The fullness of time had now brought to him the prospect of +another. As he whirled on into Suburbia, he fell to considering +relative prosperities. He set names to the houses he was passing. +No, he wouldn't change with any one of their owners. Not one +stood better just now. Not one was more the man of the moment. He +could give points and a beating to how many! + +He drove through a gate and up a drive. He was at home again. His +house had been enlarged and re-decorated since he was last there. +It looked solidly prosperous. Its second floor shouted 'money' +in a country where most houses could boast no first floor. +Its critics might have called its colors harrowing and its +architecture the reverse of inspired, but Julian cared not a +jot for that sort of up-in-the-air criticism. He sat down to +breakfast with a thankful heart, and made himself quite amiable +to Tommy Bates. + +Tommy Bates was five years older than Julian, and had acted as +his Secretary these two years past. He had small eyes set in a +rather big pasty face. His goatee beard was trim, but scarcely +pleasing. + +Julian got through his letters at breakfast and after, breakfast +with Tommy's help. Amongst the letters was one from Mount +Pleasant Mission enclosing a card. 'Hunter's mad,' said Julian +crossly. He tore up the envelope viciously, but he did not tear +up the card it contained. He placed that in his pocket-book +carefully. Tommy looked at him in interrogation, but Julian was +not communicative. + +After they had discussed a business letter or two, and had a +drink together, Julian started for the Club. He made himself +agreeable to one or two, and got a deal of pleasure out of +snubbing another. Then he gathered some important news from a +business acquaintance. It was great news. He wanted time to think +over it. He sent off two or three wires to labor agents and one +to a Native Commissioner. + +He must have boys at any cost, and quickly, to develop certain +properties. He + +"... turned an easy wheel +That set sharp racks at work, to pinch and peel." + +Then he interviewed an agent in an office, and did some very +delicate work indeed in the drafting of a prospectus. He had +earned a drink by then. His brain interested him he was inclined +to self-analysis of a sort its chiaroscuro of limelight effects +and faint nuances indicated rather than expressed. It was good to +be alive to-day, and to pull as many strings as he was pulling. + +He did not stop at one drink; over the second, the expert made a +proposition to him. It dazzled him, but he would not give an +answer just then. To-morrow morning would do. + +After that he lunched at the Club with Sir Charles Guestling who +was just back from England, and had brought a younger brother out +with him to see the country. It would have been a pleasanter +lunch without that brother, Julian thought at the time. The +brother said nothing offensive, indeed he hardly opened his +mouth, but his eyes embarrassed Julian strangely. He had curious +blue-grey eyes that contrasted with his black hair, and he would +fix Julian with these eyes just as he and Sir Charles were deep +in shares and options and the scarcity of labor. Perhaps it was +that Julian was overwrought with anxieties of success. The eyes +seemed to him clairvoyant, he imagined that they saw more than +they ought to see, when they looked him over, as he made some +highly technical statement. It was extraordinary that a +conventional man about town like Sir Charles should have such a +brother. + +After lunch Julian relaxed. + +He gave himself the indulgence of a call on Mrs. Puce. + +He had put her husband on to a good thing or two a year ago now. +They had been great friends, he and the wife. + +To-day he was a little anxious as to how she would receive him. +Things had altered since they last met. 'He had got engaged a +business-like engagement. + +But she was very gracious in her welcome. Moreover she was more +decorous this afternoon than he remembered her a few months back. +He told her about his contemplated coup. + +'I'll consult planchette for you,' said she. 'Yes, and I'll let +you know to-night.' + +She was a pretty woman with rather too high a color. But she grew +pale enough now. + +'I forgot, though, it's against my principles,' she said. 'I've +given up lots of things. I'm much more particular.' Something +roused Julian. He spoke masterfully. + +'Just this once,' he said, 'Let me know to-night. I may know of +something gilt-edged that I won't keep to myself if I hear to-night +without fail. No, I won't be refused. I want proof of good-will.' + +It was a sunny afternoon, with none of that southeast wind which +is the bane of our winter. Julian told his coachman to drive him +up to his new farm. The homestead was about five miles out of +town in the Mount Pleasant direction. + +Julian drew out the draft of the prospectus, and began to work +hard at its revision. They had stopped at the house ere he thrust +pencil and paper into his pocket. He stepped out of El Dorado let +himself down, not without a jar, on to more humdrum earth. + +The farm-house was an iron shanty newly hammered together. The +bailiff a full-bearded Colonial stood in the front doorway. +Julian gave him a perfunctory handshake. He talked farming +business to him quickly. He was tired, and eager to be through +with it. + +They were almost through with it in half an hour. They smoked +their pipes and had coffee on the stoep together. + +'About that Mission Church,' said the Bailiff, 'You know the +notice is just up that you gave them last year. The boy that used +to teach there is gone, and the kraal's moving. The building +still stands empty. They don't use it now.' + +Julian frowned. + +'Let's have a look at it,' he said. 'We can drive round that way +when Bob's inspanned. Meanwhile let's have a drink.' + +The Church was very small wattle and daub. It had done three +years' service. + +'No value,' pronounced Julian. He was rather angry with such a +mere shed for wasting his valuable time. + +'That grass wants burning,' he muttered. 'If you set a light to +it and the Church catches, I shouldn't think there'll be any harm +done.' + +'Right,' said the bailiff. Julian stepped inside the building. + +'Nothing left,' he said. 'Nothing but this box. You'd better keep +it. They can have it if they send for it.' + +'What's inside?' + +There were some red and black candlesticks and vases packed away +in the box works of art in their way, but that way was not +Julian's. + +'Cheap and nasty,' was his comment. 'Ah! What's that?' + +'It was on the Communion Table,' said the bailiff. + +Julian took up a clay cross and regarded it curiously. + +'A cross with a snake on it!' he exclaimed. + +'One of the boys said it meant the Brazen Serpent,' said the +bailiff. + +'Holy Moses!' laughed Julian. 'Well I'm going to jump this, it's +quite a curiosity. You may give the boy five bob from me if he +asks what we've done with it.' + +'Right,' said the bailiff, and went off with the box to the cart. + +Julian looked at the twisted symbol with an intent fascination. +'As Moses lifted up the Serpent in the Wilderness,' he murmured +to himself. 'Even so shall the Son of Man be lifted up. How well +I remember preaching outside a kraal, on a boulder under a +flowering kaffir tree, on that very text. I liked preaching that +day more than I did most days. It wasn't half bad. That's Christ +all over that reptile that Worm and no man! The Worm that I tread +on with impunity that's Christ! I expect Hunter might say it +would be better for me if the Worm would turn and bite better for +my eternal interests. Perhaps the Worm will, one of these fine +days. It's a rather clammy notion! The notion would be rather a +nuisance, if I believed in the Worm.' + + + +III. THIS NIGHT + + + +As he drove along the veld twenty minutes after, Julian looked +back at the burning Church. 'What would the Canon Superintendent +say?' he muttered with a grin. A fantastic shape started up from +the grass in front of him. The mules shied at it, and broke into +a gallop. 'Pull up!' he shouted. At last the mules were pulled +up. He sprang out and walked back along the road. The figure +stood stock-still by the road-side, as if waiting to greet him. + +When he came near, it came towards him, the figure of an old +native with a ragged grey beard, all hunched up in a blanket. + +'Tom.' called Julian to him in his shrill voice, 'You've got to +come down to town tonight. No, you swine, to-morrow won't do. +Tonight before sunset, or there'll be trouble. You know what I +want you to do, what you did last Christmas.' The drive back to +town was uneventful. + +Julian sat on his stoep half an hour before dinner, smoking and +pondering. He was anxious about that plunge he meant to make +to-morrow. His philosophy of life, so largely commercial, found room +for a cult or two of superstition. He had consulted Mrs. Puce's +oracle time and time again. He had had recourse to his boy Jim's +father, Tom Nyoka, twice before. He had got him to use for him a +rude and illegal form of divination. He had been helped by it +before, at least so he opined. He might be helped again. He sat +looking at the sun dropping smoothly in a cloudless sky. As he +watched, Jim came out to him to tell him that his father was in +the kitchen. 'I'll come directly, Jim,' he said. + +The piccanin was sent off to get water, the kitchen door was +safely locked. The throwing of the bones began, while Julian +watched with understanding eyes. His hard grip of his subjects, +generally, extended to this remote ritual. + +To-night the answer seemed to be inconclusive, but as they sought +the answer, a clear sign appeared as it were by the way, and +unsought. Julian was watching haggardly. He snarled a question at +Jim. His cook-boy's big round eyes showed very big and very round +just now. He was watching with painful intentness. + +'Yes,' he answered his master, 'Yes, sir, it is so.' + +Julian whistled and turned away moodily, with his hands in his +pockets, staring into space. + +The old man the diviner was talking at large as he gathered the +fingers of wood with their rude traceries together. Julian paid +little heed to his words and gesticulations when he awoke from +his day-dream. + +'Give him some skoff and a bit of meat, Jim,' he said. 'Tell him +I'll give him ten bob when I've got change.' + +The old man was clamoring to him to make up his money to a +sovereign, but Julian paid no heed to what he said. He swung out +of the hut and off to wash for dinner, still brooding moodily. + +At dinner. Tommy Bates found Julian the reverse of good company. +He did not keep his gloom to himself, and he snapped at any +excuse for snapping. Tommy left as the sweets came in, with an +excuse about meeting some friends at 8:30. + +'Don't be late,' said Julian peremptorily. 'I want you here at +eleven sharp. I want to see about tomorrow's letters before I go +to bed.' + +At 8:30 a pink note came in with the coffee. Mrs. Puce had sent +it down. It contained but a few lines: + +DEAR JULIAN, + +I'm so sorry, but I couldn't make head nor tail of the answer. +What I was told clearly was that you were likely to be in some +trouble to-night about midnight. I don't know what sort of +trouble, but somebody who lives at the back of your house may +have something to do with it. Do take care of yourself. I trust +you to do that for my sake. I think you are sensible enough to do +it, now you are forewarned. Come up to-morrow to breakfast and +reassure me, + +Yours, in ever so much of a shudder, + +CELIA. + +Julian turned rather green as he read. 'I don't like it,' he +growled, 'Two signs, and independent ones. The one sign death. I +saw it myself when the bones were thrown. The other sign danger. +And Celia hasn't the sort of conscience that would let her invent +it. I don't know what to set about doing. But I must do something +or other.' He began to reflect. He started from the unsubstantial +grounds of twofold superstition, and tried to be practical in his +own defense. + +'About midnight,' he thought, 'Well, I can trust Jim. And I can't +trust the other two boys that inhabit my back kitchen. Piet has +some of his own to get back for what I did last Christmas, and +the other boy I simply don't know. He was only sent to me to-day. +I'll tell Jim to go over to the location and take the other two +with him, and look after them for all of to-night. Tommy should +be back by eleven. We two ought to be able to look after +ourselves. Likely enough it's all moonshine this back-of-the-house +business.' He pitied himself for his anxieties, and took an +extra drink to dispel them. He went to the kitchen. Jim and the +new piccanin were just discussing the movements of somebody as he +arrived. + +'When was it?' asked Jim. + +'Just when the sun set,' the piccanin answered. + +'Where?' asked Jim. + +Then Julian cut them short, heedless of what they were saying. + +'Lock up at once, and go over to the location. Mind, Jim, you +must look after the other two and see they don't come back here. +I don't want any boys on the place to-night. D'you hear?' Julian +proceeded to enlarge on the bigness of reward or punishment in +certain eventualities. + +Julian went to his study, and put on his slippers. He called Jim +to light the wood-fire before he left. The night seemed a bitter +one, or was it that he had taken a chill? He took up a local +paper when Jim was gone. 'It's been a busy day,' he reflected, as +he straightened it out. 'Fancy my not looking at a paper of any +sort till this time of night.' + +He searched the columns impatiently. + +'No news to speak of,' he thought. But then he cried out as his +eye caught an out-of-the-way corner. 'Why, Hunter's dead!' The +news seemed to take his breath like a body-blow. 'A good man!' he +said to himself. 'The man who gave me the sop when he had dipped +it. The best of that Church gang! A man who called me an apostate +straight out more than once! The man who sent me that weird card +this morning! Yes and he sent me a quaint souvenir, a sort of +"Memento Mori," once before, last Christmas, just when my boom +came off. I haven't forgotten the words yet. I will say to my +soul, "Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years, take +thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry." And God said unto him, +"Thou fool, this night." + +'This night,' he muttered. 'I wish this night were well over.' + +IV. VICISTI GALILAEE! + + + +Julian was in a strange fit of tension when he heard Tommy Bates' +steps coming up the garden path. They were very uncertain steps. + +Julian threw open his study door as the secretary reeled into the +hall. He had longed for company this last grey craven hour or +two, and this was all the company he was to enjoy for to-night at +least! + +Humming and lurching and stinking of whisky as Tommy was, there +was not much comfort to be sought from him. + +Julian swore at him sonorously then he hustled him off to bed. +Soon he was snoring. Julian had somehow shuffled away his fear in +his coercion of Tommy. + +'I'll get my blankets and pillow out of my room, and lie down in +Tommy's. I feel I can sleep now,' he thought. + +He went into his room heedlessly in the dark and trod on +something or somebody, just as he was striking a match. + +It was the big black snake that lived in the ant-hill at the back +of the house whose movements Jim and the piccanin had been +discussing. The snake dealt with Julian. + +Julian staggered about looking for crystals and a lancet. They +were locked up safely and perhaps Jim, or perhaps Tommy had the +key. + +Tommy would not wake to any purpose. Just as Julian was shaking +him, the clock in the study a clock Julian had won in his +sprinting days chimed twelve very melodiously. Everything seemed +to be locked up. Had Jim the key of the spirit cupboard or Tommy? +Julian was growing drowsy in his struggles against the current of +fortune. Hadn't he better give in, and let himself be carried +down? Almost before he knew it, he was lying on the sofa in his +study where the lamp with the red shade was burning so cosily. +Likely enough his eye caught a quaint ornament on his study table +at the juncture the figure of the Serpent on the Cross. + +It may be too, that some sort of startled respect came to him for +the Worm that had turned at last, not vindictively, but in the +interests of the Commonweal. + +Probability points to this one fact at least, that Julian fumbled +for something in his pocket-book ere he resigned himself finally +to the growing torpor. + +A card was found on the study floor when morning came; they found +the pocket-book itself on the conch beside him. + +The card was the one that had come at his last breakfast-time +from Dick Hunter, the card that he had reserved rather indignantly +for future consideration. + +On the one side of it was a color-process reproduction, very good +of its kind Christ in Glory the Rex Tremendoe Majestatis and also +the Fons Pietatis of the Dies Ira with tears in His Eyes and +thorns on His Brows as He judged just judgment. On the other side +were four lines from Browning, faithfully transcribed save for +the change of a name. They were written in the shaking writing of +a sick man, in Hunter's round, unformed hand: + +'For the main criminal I have no hope +Except in such a suddenness of fate +So may the truth be by one blow flashed out. +And Julian see one instant and be saved.' + +There is no question as to the suddenness of the stroke of fate +that ended Julian's career in South Africa. There is an open +question as to the illuminative force of that blow, and we must +wait for the answer. + + + +THE DOUBLE CABIN + + + +We had been close to a certain line of fire together, and yet we +had not seen much fighting. That is to say, we were taking part +in a campaign together that was for the time being an affair of +patrols near a certain border an affair that flashed into fire +now and then as between man and man. As between sun and man the +firing was fairly continuous for eight hours of most days. Were +we not within a hundred miles or so of the equator? In that +climatic struggle (so much the more constant of the two for us +Northerners) I on my noncombatant job came off lightly, he, as a +combatant, suffered. He was down with malaria time and time +again. He had it on him that night when he put me up at his place +a night when the old year was almost out. He was then inhabiting +a border outpost a clean little camp tucked away behind a native +village. It was none too airy, I thought, with its heavy curtains +of cactus hedging. He seemed a little better that next morning, +when I said prayers, and afterwards rehearsed a certain Rite. He +stayed to the end of my ministrations. After breakfast I started +again on my journey, a round that took me far from the centre of +our small world. When I touched that centre again I heard his +news, which was not so very reassuring. He had gone down with +blackwater, and been carried into a small hospital. There, having +almost gone out, he had rallied enough to be put on board a ship +crossing the lake. So he came to a greater hospital. It was +thither that I followed him up. He had had another crisis, I +found, but he was better again by the time I got to him. Then he +improved a little, and seemed to be convalescing. Then malaria +chose to interfere with the running of her sister fever's course. +This seemed extraordinarily meddlesome, and made things hazardous +still, though they were as well as one expected, when the time of +my going on leave came. + +How glad I was to get off! My Good-byes were hurried when once +the brown envelope had come. I saw him on the hospital stoep +(baraza, did they call it in that alien part of Africa?) just as +I was rushing down to the station. He had lost his blue color, +but still looked rather flickery. + +'If you go to Bulawayo, you'll remember, won't you?' he said. +'You've got the plan?' + +He had given me an elaborate little drawing of two streets that +converged. His bungalow stood upon an island betwixt their +confluence and the shading that he had marked waste ground. The +pink paper was in my breast pocket, but, knowing my way with +papers, I had already learned those streets' names. + +'All right,' I said. 'But I'm not likely to go that way. And the +time's so short. I'll try though.' + +His face lit, and his eyes gleamed. 'Do try,' he said. + +'Don't build on it,' I entreated him. 'I'll try to write to her +anyway.' + +Then he looked downcast indeed; he had fallen from such a +confident height. But he said 'Goodbye' like a real friend. + +I forgot him almost completely for the next four days or so. +There were excitements, seeing somebody at headquarters, wiring +business wires, writing friendly letters against time, steering a +forlorn small native and a more forlorn small dog, who were +sharing my fortunes, down to the coast. At last I was there, and +discussing shipping news with new-found keenness. My prospects of +getting off with speed looked black for a bit; then came the +flash of a fresh idea. As there was no ship for the African port +I knew, why not book for the unknown? There were transports +returning to a port beyond, I had heard. True, the cost of +railway traveling thence was hard to forecast, resources were of +a modest sort, and there were three of us to find fares for. + +Yet ways and means began to show their forms out of the mist +soon. I chose to sail almost at once by the untried road, and I +wrote to friends', telling them how I had chosen. I wrote to my +friend in hospital, among others. I was going the Bulawayo way +after all, and I might do what he wanted quite unbelievably +easily. Who would have thought it when we parted? I scribbled +down the great news against time. (I had an importunate proof to +correct before sailing; proofs are apt to take hours, I find, and +my sailing hour was near.) He might be expected to have my +scribble handed to him on the hospital stoep about three days +after. So I calculated. I flattered myself that I knew the ins +and outs of our despatches and mail deliveries, also that I had +allowed in my calculation for censorial delay. It was pleasant to +think how pleased he might be expected to be. I well-wished him +with a prayer. Then I started down the glaring white road for the +wharf. I had dismissed him from my mind, I regret to say, for +another three days or more. + +I traveled down from that east coast fighting-base on a transport +that had brought up mules and horses. She had naturally enough, +shipped a goodly crew of flies with them. The mules and horses +had gone their ways, but the flies had by no means all gone with +them. Now with no quadrupeds to be their prime care, those that +remained were apt to obtrude themselves upon us. I deprecated at +heart the ruthless warfare that marine authority waged upon them. +But for all that I found my afternoon slumbers often distracted +by the survivors. On the first and second afternoons of that +voyage I awoke not long after I dropped off. I awoke, and thought +about nothing in particular. On the third afternoon my waking +thoughts took a very definite shape. + +I was in a cabin or stateroom that two officers had shared going +up doubtless of the veterinary profession. Now on this return +journey I had the place to myself. I lay in my bunk with my boots +off, and observed the empty couch beside me. + +It was my friend that I thought of my friend as I had taken leave +of him, reclining on the hospital stoep, straining with eager +eyes at mine. It was his breathless voice that I remembered. It +was saying over and over, 'You will go and see her, won't you? +I'll be with you in spirit in this your trek for her and home.' + +Surely he was on that couch in the cabin now beside me, and +surely he was saying the same thing over and over again, just as +regularly and restlessly as if he were yonder electric fan +curveting with the same sort of panting iteration. + +And yet, don't mistake me, I don't pretend to have seen anything +or heard anything extraordinary in the ordinary way of seeing or +hearing. Only I was dead sure that he was there with the same old +entreaty. Afterwards I lighted a pipe, went above, talked to the +skipper's wife, read, investigated my boy's and also my dog's +welfare rather perfunctorily, settled down to saying an evening +Office, made an end more or less of that, just as night came on, +and then again took time to think over things. I remembered that +he would have possibly got my letter, the letter which announced +my sailing in this ship of the Archangel Line, just about the +very time that he had seemed so near me. It was natural enough, +then, that his eager mind should have embarked with me on the +'Saint Raphael.' He knew now that I was going home, contrary to +previous expectation, by the very way he had desired, the way to +see his wife and tell her his news. + +That night, when I said my prayers, I took but a corner of that +couch for my elbows. I gave him room, so to speak, with odd +scrupulous courtesy, just as if he were lying there in the body. +For I knew he was there, there by his own subtle means of +transport. That night the wind rose, and for the next three days +about, we were on the downgrade as regards weather. Our captain +opined that there had been a hurricane of sorts to south-east, +out Madagascar way. We were in the troughs of a mighty swell that +grew in might till the third morn of its reign was over. In the +mad tilting of my cabin floor, and the scuffling of my cabin +accessories, that last morning, the unseen and unheard presence +that I was now growing used to, reclined unperturbed. Elsewhere I +would forget it lightly enough, as soon as ever I left the cabin, +at the saloon table, where plate and cup fretted themselves up +and down against the table frames, in the skipper's basket lounge +chair wherein I read contrasted romances, East End and Zulu, on +the deck where I groped from hold-by to hold-by, longing to +change grey sky and green sea-trenches for sunshine and blue +levels of sea and sky. The weather calmed and brightened, but the +presence was unaffected. It remained to my perception eager and +sanguine, no less, no more, than it had seemed at first. + +At last the Bluff loomed to south-east. Soon a game of pitch-and-toss +precluded our access to harbor. At last we transshipped, all +three of us, boy and dog and I, to a steam-launch, and were soon +ashore. No, I won't say four of us. The presence did not make +itself felt as taking a share in that scramble of ours. I was +rather surprised at missing its company, when I found time to +think about it. I was standing at ease in the Base Office then. +Soon I was on my way back again to the station where I had left +my convoy. The boy was mounting guard over dog and gear. Yes, +everything seemed all right. I turned towards the ticket office. +As I waited for our tickets I evolved a sort of rationale of my +consciousness of that presence. He who had accompanied me was +very weak, distinctly convalescent. He could but make himself +felt clinically, so to speak. When at length I was aboard the +train I had opportunity to test my surmises. There were six +sleeping berths in the Jo'burg second class compartment (there +was no third class, worse luck, on that train) wherein I found +myself. On one side slept the dark Theosophist who was to lend me +'The Star of the East' next morning. Under him slept the +Norwegian recruit bound for Potchefstroom. Under him again a +fresh-colored, wizened little Colonist. On my side slept an +Africander recruit for Potchefstroom (God love him! I hope he was +better than his looks and conversation). I was bedded over him. +Above me on the sixth sleeping ledge was only a certain amount of +luggage. So we had arranged, and so my eyes assured me. But I +became firmly conscious that the presence was reclining there. + +Next night I was able to travel on third class from Johannesburg +without missing my train's connection. I had the carriage to +myself (not without misgivings, for the guard had cleared a +native out, and other compartments seemed likely to be rather +crowded). I lay down somewhat prayerlessly. The last light seemed +to have not long faded on the white mine-banks. I woke in the +chill of the dawn. The train was nearing Mafeking. The presence I +had been too tired to think much about last night, was assuredly +there on the other side of the carriage. Yet there was only my +bag to be seen on the seat, my bag that I had set there to search +for a towel. + +The next night we drew near to Bulawayo. I had a Jew for +traveling companion then. He was to get off about midnight at +Francistown. I dropped off to sleep somehow. I don't know exactly +how the trick was done, I was so excited at nearing my own +country. When I awoke the Jew was gone, and the seat opposite me +was empty, empty save for the presence which reclined there. I +gave it a share of my attention amongst other persons and +matters. I was far too full of plans and anticipations now to +sleep. Yet I fought for sleep that next hour or two. Then, as the +cocks had crowed undoubtedly, I lighted a pipe. Afterwards I +stole out in the faint light to shave. When I returned, I was +confronted by an old acquaintance a detective. He wanted +information about me, naturally enough, as it was war-time. He +sat himself down on the seat whereon the presence was. I had +squirmed when he shook hands with me so heartily (I had twisted +my hand, slipping on a warship's deck). I was disposed to squirm +once again. When he sat down rudely on that seat which I knew to +be occupied, I forgot myself at once, and drew him to a seat +beside me. 'Can't you see what's there?' I said hastily. Of +course he could not see, and thought me a little mad. Then, when +I explained that the seat had been kept, he looked suspicious, If +only he had enjoyed the same perceptiveness as myself, what pages +he might have filled in that expensive-looking note book. I +chuckled to myself as I thought of his description his, who had +crossed the Rhodesian border with me at Plumtree on such special +service. What would that note book make of him? The note book's +master looked at me hard. Doubtless I aroused certain unnecessary +alarums and excursions in the imagination of a useful and already +overworked official. But I had given him nothing tangible in the +way of incrimination. He looked at me as one who much desired to +keep me under observation, but he said 'Goodbye!' + +The house answered the pink paper's description. It was on +the verge of some waste ground. But I had expected a more +prosperous-looking place. + +It had a long row of white palings that lacked repainting. The +house itself looked rather poverty-stricken. I had hurried over +my breakfast at the station, then I had asked my way, and found +it. I knocked once and again. That wife, whom I had never seen +before, came slowly to the door. He had shown me her portrait +more than once, and I remembered it. It certainly had not +flattered her. She was dressed in black. Her face would have been +fresh under her bright hair, but the eyes were drawn, and the +lips quivered that spoke to me, quivered in a pitiful fashion. I +told her how I came from her husband. I embarked on a longish +rigmarole as to the luck that brought me her way after all, +against expectations. She listened without saying a word. Then I +told her about him, and she listened patiently. 'I seem to have +felt him with me on my way,' I said. 'He was so keen that I +should bring you his love,' I said. Then she burst out crying. +'It is all very interesting,' she sobbed. 'But I have got later +news than yours.' + +I shuddered. 'Was there a relapse, then?' I said. + +'I suppose there must have been,' she murmured, steadying +herself. 'He came to me just at sunrise,' she said, 'this +sunrise, this very morning. I saw him so plainly coming into the +room just after I had opened my eyes. He always said he was sure +he would be able to come, by God's mercy, if it should come to +that . . .' Her voice shook, and I knew what 'that' meant. + +No doubt they had loved one another very dearly, no doubt he had +been able, so strong was his affection, to follow my journey +towards her, while he was still in life. Then, at the moment of +the great change, he had doubtless gathered strength to come to +her and manifest himself. Such things have surely happened +before, and are likely to happen again whilst our lives linger in +the midst of death, and love is love. + +'It is just on church-time,' she said, 'all but eight o'clock. I +was getting ready to go when you knocked. You won't mind my going +now, will you? You won't mind my saying Good-bye?' + +So we said 'Good-bye' outside the church door, our ways went so +far together. Then I went off by the station road; my train was +to go on in another hour or so. + +When I got into an empty carriage I was conscious of some sense +of forlornness. I had lost my traveling companion. Yet I was glad +somehow to think that the strain of his interest in my journey +was at an end. I gave thanks for that new rest of his. + +As for her I am glad to remember where it was that she parted +from me so graciously. That church was a poor, corrugated iron +structure, but I looked in and saw a gladsome light burning +before its altar. Her eyes were on that light, I think, as she +knelt down. Truly a sanctuary of God seemed the place of places +to leave her in. They were so desperately fond of one another, +and he was so devoted to his religion, as well as to her. If in +God's sanctuary the Psalmist found most satisfaction as to his +own riddle of the ungodly's vitality, I feel sure she found some +comfortable answer to her own contrasted problem the mortality of +one so dear to her and to his Lord. + + + +INTELLIGENCE + + + +I was staying with an Intelligence Officer on a certain island. +Our people had but just succeeded in occupying it with a force of +occupation. It was a very green and richly tropical island with +the faults of its qualities, I should say. Most of its German +tenants were prisoners now, a few had escaped in canoes. Their +sergeant of askaris, a stout fellow, had passed the word of 'no +surrender.' But for all that very few native soldiers seemed to +be in the bush now. Most seemed to have surrendered, or to have +transformed themselves into civilians. + +I had reached my host's lodging just before sundown on Saturday +night. We dined simply, as far as courses went, but our +conversation came easily and took many turns. There seemed to be +something in the air that night. There were three of us at the +table, my host and Hunter and I. Hunter was a naval man who had +walked up with me, and was staying the night. He was very fresh +and pleasant to look at; he seemed old for his years, which were +few; he had a range of interests as well as powers of expression. +Did he seem just a little conscious of his tender age? Was he not +a bit too anxious to profess disillusion? Yes, he was cynical +about Belgians, also about France, also about the Foreign Office. +I suffered him thus far with a certain guilty gladness. But the +Intelligence Officer demurred grimly. He was a patriot and a +fighting man. They had switched a maxim on to him years before, +but he was still going hardily, albeit he limped. He had fought +in an irregular white corps in the present campaign; he had +raised an irregular black corps; our adversaries were said to +have priced his head. He had charming manners; he had befriended +me nobly not once nor twice. He was a man surely of extraordinary +dash and resource. I had no sort of reason to doubt the great +stories I had heard of him, of his coolness under fire and in +tight places. I had seen every reason to believe them. For all +that, my affection for him was mixed with another feeling. He was +very tall. His face wore a sort of perennial fever-flush. He was +very dark. His eyes were fine and fierce, too; he wore a strange +he-goat-tuft on his chin. I found myself chuckling privately that +evening over a bizarre fancy of mine. I had remembered a certain +mediaeval print of a famous character. Yes, there certainly was a +likeness. + +We discussed Intelligence Work a branch of War Service as to +which I am apt to be prejudiced. To my indefensible delight. +Hunter excelled himself at giving my own views voice over the +pudding. Never did I hear an indictment more sweeping. He spoke +of the reading of people's letters, the bluffing of unhappy +natives. He hinted darkly at dark methods of persuasion. He +hammered in the debasing futility of the whole spy system, our +own and the other side's. He ended with schoolboy personalities +about people he had met, some of our host's own agents. His +remarks about them were unworthy of the eloquence that had gone +before. Our host took it all in very kindly part. He was a man of +deeds rather than of words. + +'I never thought I'd come so low as I did to-day,' he admitted. +'You heard of the German who got away with his wife and kids in +canoes. I was turning over one of the kids' money-boxes. Just +five rupees or so in it. But I'll try to get it back to the +youngster. I never thought to come quite so low.' + +I tackled him about a horrid practice he had admitted having +recourse to. 'Torture, or torture-witchcraft possibly! It seems a +hopeful way of eliciting true intelligence, not to speak of +playing the game in any sort of British sense.' He hung his head +penitently. He pleaded that this expedient had saved an execution +only the other day. There had been none after all. Had there +been, as had looked likely at one time, an innocent man would +have died. + +'Oh, why not be without reproach as well as without fear?' I +pleaded. + +'How am I to get truth from them? It's a usage of their own.' He +was pleading back. + +'Not that way.' I was inflexible in my scorn and horror, for I +knew that I was right. + +By this time we had about finished dinner. Soon we were outside +Hunter in a deck-chair, I on a box, my host on a looted camp-stool. +We smoked on under the stars. + +We spoke of looting. The naval man scintillated about the conduct +of the army at a raid on a neighboring town. I was with him most +of the way. + +'So they cleared away with their swags for fear of enemy +reinforcements. And they had a report printed that the natives +had looted the place. That put the lid on it,' he said. But then +came purgatory for me. The Native Question cropped up. Our host +was away just then, conferring about chits that his spies had +brought in. Hunter fairly coruscated with cynicism, when it came +to the Native Question. He had expressed very different views +upon it the last time that I had met him (the day before at +lunchtime). Now he expressed himself cured of any sneaking wish +to treat natives with kindness rather than kiboko. His boy, to +whom he had granted leave of absence, had not come back to his +day, and the whole fabric of Native sympathies, so far as he was +concerned, had crashed to the ground. Henceforth he would know +how to treat natives, the way to have no trouble with them. Any +other way was not worth while. I objected, but my objections were +as little rocks over which his periods broke in foam. + +They enhanced the effect. Our host came back and laughed a +little, till he saw how little I was enjoying it. Then he rotted +the orator on his lordly oblivion of one fact. Were there not +limits to his experience of Africa? He himself avowed his +sympathies with the African. If he had a hobby, it was natives. +He wanted to win their trust for a great many reasons. It was +worth while having it. He told a certain story and the talk +diverged. It was quite sympathetic talk, from my point of view +thenceforward, up till bed-time. We slept in that big room +within, all three of us. I had brought next to no kit, and +I had noted with some awe my naval friend's scorn of the +ill-provided in the course of the evening. He had described how +a Belgian he had shared a room with, lacked certain accessories +of civilization. So I was in the mood now to feel my own +deficiency. But the censor was not so very observant, and he +seemed sleepy. Soon he was sleeping. + +My host and I exchanged a few undertones. Tomorrow was +Whitsunday. I wanted to have Service very early. 'That'll be all +right,' he said. Soon he put our hurricane lamp out, but I was +not to win sleep for quite a long while. In the early morning, +moreover, something happened. Some red-ant skirmishers were +about, and I had a hot time in my bed on the floor. I' might well +have felt more grateful than I did feel. Yes, had I only known +what battalions would have engaged me, had they decided to attack +before dawn! At dawn I was to see for myself what were the +numbers of their host. Meanwhile, their scouts gave me trouble, +if only a moderate amount. A cock crowed close by. Then another +and another. The dawn was not so very far then surely. The +thunder that had boomed when I first awoke, boomed louder. A +rushing mighty wind seized upon the shanty where we slept, a very +airy shanty. The fact that the Day that came was Pentecost, +recurred to me. Then the storm broke in fury. The rain smashed +down, and the lightning forked and flickered. The roar and tumult +raged and swelled and thudded overhead. My host awakened. + +'It's near,' he said. 'Too near for me,' I murmured, as I ducked +involuntarily when a perfervid flash came. + +'Look at the Navy!' he said. I looked. + +The cynic slept like a child. His face was very calm and +intensely optimistic. 'He told me he had slept through big guns' +fire on his ship,' I said admiringly. 'He has great powers.' + +A curious lingering flash came. It played round the sleeper's +head. A huge peal seemed to come almost with it, the last huge +peal ere that brief passionate storm withdrew. + +Then the sleeper began to talk. + +He talked too well too well for me to mix his actual phrases up +with this secular story. + +The Intelligence man began to laugh. The thing struck him as +funny. But suddenly I caught familiar words, and I put my finger +on my lips. My host's black eyes looked into mine, and I saw, as +I had never seen before, how much there was in them. First they +kindled, and then they grew soft, and he turned his head away. +The sleeper had been repeating the end of the fifth chapter of S. +Matthew the bit about the God (whose sons we Christians are) that +makes His sun to shine, and His rain to fall so impartially. + +He said the words very clearly, as articulately as if he were a +child saying repetition. What made our host's eyes melt so +curiously was what came after. + +The sleeper said a sort of child's prayer about sun and rain, and +just and unjust, and good and evil, praying quite simply to God +to bless everybody and to do the best for them English and +Germans, black men and white. + +'Yes, and my boy,' he said, as if that petition furnished a sort +of limit to the mercy he invoked. 'And the mtoto,' he added a +minute after. + +'What's his name?' he asked innocently. He had forgotten the name +of his boy's apprentice, and his forgetfulness was on his mind. + +The strain was a bit too much for us when it came to that +question. + +We laughed rather hysterically. Then we pulled ourselves +together, but we had not disturbed him. He spoke no more save for +two or three detached words proper names I think. But he breathed +long breaths peacefully. + +The dawn was quite near on its way now. A dove called from the +wood to its mate. Surely it desired to tell it that morning came. + +'We've got some fresh Intelligence,' my host said gravely. + +'Pentecostal Illumination, rather,' I said. + +'Did you happen to remember what the Day was?' + +He nodded. 'We'd better not sit up talking,' he told me. 'It +might seem to spoil it somehow. We'd better try to get a little +sleep. Come over here out of the ants.' + +So we shifted my mattress. + +After our Pentecostal Service, and our breakfast, we compared +notes, we two alone. + +Once more Hunter had talked a lot at table. It was somehow a +little hard completely to identify the Hunter of breakfast time +with the Hunter of cock-crow. 'Our friend was rather angelical, +only rather,' my host said. + +'He was cynical about your cynical business,' I said. He laughed. +'Have you forgotten what he said about missionaries?' he asked. + +I smiled ruefully. 'It certainly wasn't up to his level,' I said, +'his cock-crow level.' + +'I've got a theory,' said my chin-tufted friend (I have made up +my mind to recall Don Quixote in future when I think of him +rather than that mediaeval print). 'The subliminal self of the +Navy was revealed by that Pentecostal flash. Pentecost was in the +air. We saw the real lieutenant in his sleeping sub-consciousness. +It's a pity the real self isn't top-dog in ordinary life; it's under-dog +for the present, worse luck!' + +'But in sleep he's a child still, and a good child at that,' I +said. + +'Yes, or he couldn't have responded to that Pentecostal +suggestion. You or I wouldn't have responded; anyhow, not so +readily.' + +He sighed. 'It's a wicked world,' he said smiling, 'and we learn +many tricks of our respective trades.' + +'Speak for yourself and your own trade,' I said sternly. Then I +begged him to give up that unmentionable way of obtaining +intelligence. + +'Let's try to live up to the cock-crow level,' I said. 'We two +have seen what we have seen, and heard what we have heard. We +have received unexpected Intelligence. We have got some hints as +to self and soul, truth and falsehood.' + +'Yes, I'll allow that,' he admitted. + + + +A CREDIT BALANCE + + + +The siding was on such soil as recalled South Devon; flanking the +name-board there were a few pepper-trees with dry, fern-like +foliage, and bunches of red berries just then, the month being +March. Alfred Home drew up before that name-board in scorching +sunshine, wiped his face, and looked at his watch. Was he in +time? + +He had heard nothing of the train yet, and it was not to be seen +approaching. His watch told him that it had been due for ten +minutes now. Surely it could not have gone! No, there it was. Its +whistle sounded, and soon it came winding through the sparse +woodlands. He gave a sigh of relief, and squatted down to wait +for it. Soon it drew up at Pepper-tree Siding. + +He climbed on to a third-class carriage, which carried natives +and colored people, also one European in lonely majesty. This +last stood smoking a cigarette in an amber or mock-amber +mouthpiece. He was a boy not long out of his teens, a boy with a +dazzling complexion if, indeed, he were not a girl in a boy's +grey suit. He introduced himself, as he ushered his fellow-traveler +into a compartment. 'I'm the only one here,' he said. 'I've been +alone since Mafeking. I'm George Donald, and I'm just out from +Derry.' Home accepted the cigarette that was offered him. +Then he wiped his face again a dark, fiercely-burnt face. He +was a man over forty; he looked more than his age, or as if he +had had very hard times. 'Going far?' he asked. 'Not much further +now,' the boy said cheerfully. 'My station's fifty miles beyond +Gwelo. I'm about sick of it. I traveled second class on the boat. +But they never sent any money for expenses, so I've had to pig it +on this train.' Home smiled. 'Ever been out before?' he asked. +Donald shook his head. Then he indulged in many confidences. 'I'm +going to be partner in a trading concern,' he said. 'Soldana's is +the name of the place.' He went on to describe the voyage out, +with free criticisms of the food and of fellow-passengers. They +had had a concert or two on board, and he had recited at the +second-class concert last week. 'What did you recite?' Home asked +him. 'Oh, I gave them "Sir Galahad." I had to grind it up, with +lots more of Tennyson, for an exam. You know it?' Home nodded. +His lips moved. 'How ever does it go?' he said a moment after. 'I +only remember tags of lines here and there "And star-like mingles +with the stars." That's authentic, isn't it?' The boy repeated +the stanza whence those words came. 'Would you like any more?' he +asked. Home grinned. 'May as well have it through, if it's all +the same to you,' he said. So the boy began at the beginning, and +continued, and made an end, Home watching him all the while. His +eyes had satire in them as he watched, but they had also +admiration. Two or three hours after, they drew up at another +siding, and Home got together his belongings. He handed them to a +Bechuana boy who stood waiting for them outside on the step. Then +he settled himself down again, for the engine was waiting to take +water. He wrote a few words on a half-sheet and handed it to +Donald. 'That's my address,' he said. 'Do write or look me up at +my store, if I can be of any use at any time.' The reciter of +'Sir Galahad' shook his hand warmly, promising that he would do +so. Then Home scrambled out into the noontide heat. Soon the slow +train woke up again, and lumbered on. + +It was much more than three years after when Donald came to +Home's store. He looked fagged and weary as he came up the +wagon-road, having done his thirty miles that day. He had a knapsack +on his back, but that was not heavy. Home was sitting on a case +under his verandah. The sun had just set, and he had closed the +store for the day, just before the traveler showed in sight. Now +that he drew near, he knew him at once. 'Hullo! I've often +thought about you,' was his greeting. 'But what have you been +doing with yourself?' The boy's face he looked boyish still, +though no longer girlish was worn. He was very pale, and had blue +marks under his eyes. 'I've had a hell of a time,' he muttered. +'Well, come and have some skoff,' Home said. 'After that you can +tell me about it all.' The boy ate but languidly, though he +emptied cup after cup. He said hardly anything; he looked down on +his luck. The zest was gone out of his talk, as the rose-pink out +of his cheeks, since they last met. + +Home tried to say something cheerful. 'Do you know, if you'd come +this day week I don't think you'd have found me here. I've sold +this store. I'm meaning to go home, and to settle down there.' +The boy congratulated him rather listlessly. Then he spoke with a +sparkle of his old keenness. 'I wish I were going home,' he said. + +'Why don't you?' + +'I haven't a shilling,' the boy said; 'only minus shillings, only +debts.' Home tried to say something pleasant about luck turning, +but it came out flatly. After supper the boy told a story, but he +did not seem to tell it candidly by any manner of means. The +partnership he had gone to had been dissolved a year ago. He had +been trading, backed up by a Jew, this last cold weather. He had +had horrible luck; his store had been burnt down in August. It +was November now. He had been knocking about in a certain town +for a month or two. Then he had taken to the road. Some people +had been kind to him as he came along; others hadn't. + +'What do you owe?' Home asked him abruptly. 'Oh, a pound or two,' +he answered, coloring. 'It's more than that, isn't it?' Home said +gently. The boy denied its being more than that. Then all of a +sudden he owned up. 'One Jew, they were partners, said it was +twenty-five; the other said he'd take fifteen. It wasn't really +more than fifteen, honor bright.' + +'So you owe him fifteen,' Home said. 'Do you mean to pay him?' + +'Not unless I'm forced,' the boy said savagely. He spoke in quite +an open way now. 'I'd rather pay him out than pay him back, the .. .' +Home changed the subject. + +Just before they went to bed he recalled their brief journey +together so long ago now. He reached a newish Tennyson down from +his candle-box bookshelf. 'Do you mind saying that piece over +again that piece you said in the train?' Home spoke shyly. + +The boy flushed up before he answered. 'I've forgotten it,' he +said. + +'Well, read it, then, won't you, please? I've got it here.' The +boy started to read the lines. He read rather badly that night, +so Home thought to himself. He stuck in one place. 'Here, you'd +better go on,' he said hoarsely. So Home finished the poem to the +last line of it: + +Until I find the Holy Grail. + +'Do you know?' he said, when he had ended, 'I owe you a debt. +You've got a big balance to draw on so far as I'm concerned. I +bucked up a bit, beginning from that day when we met in the +train. I'd been thinking of giving up whisky, and other things, +before that day. But you gave me what I wanted a start. "Now or +never," I said, having seen you coming out so fresh as you did +yes, and heard you recite. I won't describe you as you were then; +you may or may not remember what you were like. That bit in the +poem about riding in lonely places through the dark caught my +fancy. I used to think of you who had gone away in the train +northwards. I thought of you trading on the Mashonaland veld, and +passing unscathed and unafraid over it by night and day you that +had nothing to be ashamed of. Thinking so helped to buck me up. +I've done better since that train journey than I ever did before +out here. Now I'm doing quite well, else it wouldn't be likely +I'd be thinking of going home, as I am.' + +The boy looked up at him wretchedly. 'It all went wrong nearly +from the first,' he said, 'so far as I was concerned.' + +'Yet all the while you helped me,' Home said. 'So I owe you a +debt, and I mean to pay my debts, whatever you mean to do about +yours. Come on, now. Take this bed. I'm sleeping in the store.' + +Thus it came about that in the morning Home, having slept upon +his resolve, brought out some money. He stacked it on the table +impressively. 'I'm glad I slept upon it,' he said. 'I thought +last night that I'd give you the money to go home this year. I'd +made up my mind almost to go next year instead of this.' + +The boy's eyes lighted up. Gratitude looked out of them. Then +they changed. It seemed that gloomy Fear had taken Gratitude's +place at the double window. Donald stammered a bit; then he spoke +out. 'I'd like to lie to you, like I did last night; but I can't +somehow. No, I'm going to tell you utter' truth. I'd like you to +give me the money well enough in one way. But if you did I know +what I'd do. You don't know how gone-in I am. If I ever got as +far as Capetown I'd drink out what was left there, or I'd blow it +some way. But I'd never get so far as Capetown; I'll be honest +with you. Yet thanks all the same. You meant kindly.' + +'That's all right,' Home said kindly enough. 'Thanks for being +straight. I thought over that first plan of mine last night. I +wasn't long in chucking it for a second.' The boy listened +languidly. 'I was going second,' Home went on; 'I was going +second if I'd gone alone. Now let's both go together! Supposing I +square the Jew for you probably you understated his account a bit +(I've allowed for that) I may have enough for two thirds and +something to spare. You won't mind my going too, and my keeping +the bag, will you?' + +'Mind?' the other said. 'I shouldn't think I'd mind, seeing it's +a one-and-only sort of chance. But I don't see why you should +give it me.' + +'It's only paying you something on account,' Home said. +'Remember, there'll be a credit balance still after the journey's +over, but you'll give me a little time to pay off that, won't +you?' + +So they went together in the following week by a slow train, the +same sort of slow train as had carried them of old one that +stopped at Peppertree Siding. + +'I'd like to refund you,' the boy said while they waited there. +He was beginning to get a little of his own back by then, Home +thought; Home was beginning to suffer him as an inseparable much +more gladly. 'I've written some things that might sell,' Donald +murmured; 'things I wrote when I was traveling in lonely places +among the hills, or in the bush-veld, or by the river that held +me up for three days.' + +'What sort of things? "Sir Galahad" sort of things?' Home asked +with a twinkle. + +The boy shuddered. 'No, just the other sort of things,' he +answered. 'Not seeing everything right because one feels right, +but seeing everything devilish because one feels devilish.' + +'Hadn't you better, perhaps, burn the lot?' Home said. 'Don't +talk about a refund to me. Why, man, I tell you I owe you quite a +lot. Make yourself easy; you've a big credit balance to draw on.' + + + +MAN'S AIRY NOTIONS + + + +It is quaint how a catch of a song or a phrase of a lyric will +haunt one along the lonely miles of a walk, up hill and down dale +of one's pilgrimage. Hood found a phrase of a lyric dogging him +down the first stages of his home-road last year. He thought +little of the circumstance at the time, but afterwards he +remembered it, and wondered why the thing had befallen so. The +lines of the phrase had by that time gained meaning for him, more +meaning than he had suspected to be in them, when he said them +over to himself: + +'In a wife's lap, as in a grave, +Man's airy notions mix with earth.' * + +* From 'The Splendid Spur,' by Q. + +He remembered saying them over and over to himself along one +long, sandy, thirsty stretch. Then again, when he sat down by the +drift in huge content waiting for his kettle to boil; then again +on a certain melodramatic night as he paddled in the rain a night +he is not likely to forget. + +He had been a missionary in South-Eastern Africa for ten or +fifteen years, I forget which, and his leave that came every five +years was once more due. He started for the railhead, some forty +odd miles from his home, going by way of the post-town, and +calling there for his share of the last mail. + +Yes, it was all right. Nothing near at hand in Africa, or far +overseas in England, barred his home-road as far as he could +learn. On the other hand, at least two Southern letters bade him +go back and prosper, and a new welcome had come forward to him +from the North in a writing that he remembered. It was posted in +an Upper River village not many miles from Oxford, and it was a +bidding to a meeting of Oxford contemporaries arranged for the +coming July. They had met on about that same day (the birthday of +the host) five years before. + +Hood remembered that day of meeting, as he sat by the drift, +reading his letter, and waiting for the kettle to boil. He +remembered walking out from the city of the spires, and the way +the house looked as he came to it by a path through water-meadows. +What gardens and green shades and coolness of comfort, he +remembered, and linked with that time and that place. He +dreamed a dream with the smell of new-turned hay in it, then +awoke to find himself repeating that mellifluous tag of his about +man's airy notions. The kettle had boiled. + +The letter of invitation was written in high spirits. It was +sanguine as to the completeness of their numbers when they should +meet. All but one was likely to be there if only Hood would come +all but one who had fallen out of the ranks. Hood was, somehow, I +think, more overcast by the thought of the one exception, than +rejoiced by the prospect of such a noble muster. Yet, as he +strode along the road, pondering the letter, his longing for +England seemed to grow amazingly. His stride lengthened as his +satisfaction deepened. Twenty miles gave him little trouble that +March forenoon and afternoon. He crossed the wide river in a +crazily perilous ferry-boat, forded a narrow one, and supped with +great content on his bread and cheese. + +Meanwhile his carriers fell heartily to hungry men's rations of +bully beef and millet-meal. The rains had been heavy those two or +three days in that last week, as the rivers testified. Now the +clouds were closing up again, and the carriers shook their heads. +Their road was a lonely one. A kraal was some six miles ahead, +the railhead inn was almost nine. When they had gone on for about +a mile of their road, the rain began to come down heavily, just +as the night began. On and on they splashed through the pools and +currents of the wagon-way. Then the rain slackened. A red, +elusive light shone ahead in the dip of a hollow. It seemed a +wandering fire to Hood's eyes as the road twisted suddenly. But +no it was a humdrum wagon-fire of logs. They clustered round it, +chilly and dripping, his carriers and he. A voice called out to +them from the folds of a buck-sail above. A Mashona boy was +crouching in shelter there. He told them that his master was +asleep on the wagon. Hood tried a greeting to this master, but it +gained no answer. He began to take counsel with his comrades, as +they squatted by the fire. 'Wouldn't it be fine to sleep under +the wagon? Who wanted to tramp through a black night with perhaps +a pouring roof of sky above, and certainly a soaked mud floor +beneath?' + +The carriers and he agreed to risk the storm (threatening even +now in the distance). Night-prayers were said by that gladsome +fire. Still, the larger of the two muffled shapes above made no +sign. Afterwards Hood's bed was made by the stretching out of a +strip of sailcloth. A blanket was laid over it, and a knapsack +crowned it as a pillow. Hood began to settle himself in with huge +content, a pipe between his teeth. One carrier wriggled himself +up beside him. The two others laid themselves at his feet. By +this time the thunder was rolling up relentlessly, and the +flashes shone green and sinister. The storm was not long in +breaking over them. The rain swished in from the west the way of +Hood's right side. He wrapped his head in his five-shilling +blanket; its cotton-waste was not very waterproof. He had a few +more draws at his pipe in the dark. Pools were filling under him. +He put his pipe down. He made haste for the frontiers of sleep. +He must have got some way in that direction, for he soon found +himself in his bath on the threshold of a dream. Of course, he +should have hardened his heart hygienically. He should have risen +and stridden on with his retainers the miles that remained. But +he had his vein of weakness and sloth; he took the fury of that +night lying down. + +At whiles he was across the drift of Lethe in the darkness, but +never for long together. Once he woke uneasily with a start and +saw a flash. The crash followed as in one beat, and the rain was +like the rain in King Lear. He was broadly awake now. Two +carriers were nestling near him. He felt fearfully for his pipe, +and almost mourned for it as washed away. He found it, and turned +over with a happy sigh. 'Man's airy notions!' 'as in a grave,' +'mix with earth' he hummed himself to sleep with that brave +sing-song. + +The dawn had come ere he had roused himself again. It was good to +find that the rain was over and the night gone, and that the fire +was blazing. His carriers were chafing their hands and feet. His +sleeping host bulked still as a molded shape in the buck-sail. +Had he moved at all since last night? The big black-and-white and +red-and-white oxen were tethered still. Would their wardens ever +wake up and see them fed? The carriers tied up his packs, and +moved forward with a swing. Still there was no sign from the +buck-sail, boy and master alike were still within, though the sun +had climbed over the hills. Hood shrugged his shoulders, and +moved off down the west road. He left that little mystery, as he +had left bigger riddles in Africa, utterly unsolved. + +Soon they dried themselves at a hospitable hut-fire in a village. +It was Lady Day. Hood noted the seasonable blue-and-white of his +blanket as he hung it on a rafter. He made the morning Offering +behind that vaporous screen. Then they ate their food, and +drugged themselves belatedly with quinine against those perils of +the night. + +Hood for one felt cheerily defiant, if somewhat stiff from long +bathing. 'This is life,' he thought as the sun came out, and they +strode mile after mile down the valley. Afterwards came the +shining drift, and the last climb up to the Station. + +When Hood reached Capetown, he found a letter awaiting him. His +chosen traveling companion an explorer was delayed up-country. +Hood was sorry to get that letter. Then the possibilities of a +lonely journey struck him. He revived the remembrances of +long-room life as an under-schoolboy. He took an open berth for a +three weeks' voyage. Whereas, in the English public school he had +gone to, Gentiles had been many and Jews the exception, the +balance was now redressed. + +It was a good time on the whole that he had on this voyage, but +he was glad indeed to be out of the boat and in England once +more, his own South-country England! The spring and early summer +were kind to Hood, then July came and brought the gathering in +Berkshire. All the old forgatherers of five years ago were there, +all but that one they had left behind in Africa. He had gone to +sleep there, three long years ago in the past. + +'How I do miss Hunter!' confided the explorer to Hood. 'They seem +to have aged a lot, some of the others,' he explained forlornly. + +Hood stared at him as he steered their boat down the river. He +reflected. + +'I think you're right,' he said. 'But you haven't aged a bit. Nor +have I. Nor has our host so very much. That's how the dividing +line comes in. The others are all married, much married, and like +their little comforts.' + +'You're right there,' said the explorer, disconsolately. 'A +bread-and-cheese lunch in a bar parlor and a twenty-mile walk +didn't suit Warner. He used not to be like that. If only he'd +kept out in Africa after the war.' + +'Warner's better than somebody we both know,' grumbled Hood. +'Having a car of his own hasn't made him any younger.' + +'Never mind,' the explorer said, 'there's two of us out in Africa +yet, and not likely to marry. There used to be three, usedn't +there?' + +'I do wish we had one to spare,' said Hood. 'It'd be rather a +tragedy for the other one if one of us two deserted. But you'll +try not, won't you, and I'll try too.' + +While they stayed with their bachelor host, friends of his, +married and single alike, were very kind to them. The rector, who +had only come last year, asked them to make themselves at home in +his garden. It had a blaze of civilization in its front borders, +now, but at the back of the house it was rather wild and very +shady. The rector's youngest sister, Perpetua, kept house for +him, a girl whose English coloring took a pretty and subdued +form; Hood and the explorer were much interested in her romance. +The curate, Warner said, was her continual worshipper. He was a +keen sort of curate that. + +She had been kind to him till quite recently. Now she was +uninterested, or seemed so. + +The Good-bye of the reunion came round, but the explorer and Hood +went not with the others. The married guests went off to their +home comforts, but these two stayed on for at least a week more. +They became fast friends with both Perpetua and the curate, but +they found it best for social joy not to mix them. + +Perpetua shared a sailing expedition with the strangers. Therein +they explored much of the Evenlode, the hay-harvest breeze +favoring them. Another day she went with them afoot to the +Hinkseys. Certain moot points of poetic identification were +hardly settled by that trip, so another followed. They came home +by Cumner both days. + +'She would do for Africa,' confided the explorer to Hood one +night. The village band had been playing, and they had thought no +scorn of it. The groups under the dreaming garden trees, and the +full moon, and the white evening-star' had been memorable that +evening. + +'She might do for Africa,' said Hood doubtfully, 'but I wouldn't +let her go and spoil her complexion.' + +'If you were the curate?' asked the explorer with a smile. + +'What's he to do with it?' said Hood impatiently. 'Didn't he +almost promise he'd sail with me in two months' time? I want him +for work.' + +'That's too bad,' said the explorer; 'cut that labor-agent +business. Let him stay at home and marry Perpetua. There's a +family living waiting for him across the river. Won't they be +happy just?' + +'I don't know,' said Hood, thinking fast. + +Next morning the explorer had a touch of fever. The village +doctor dropped in as an anxious friend. He mustered up his +courage to prescribe two grains of quinine. His patient smiled, +and promised to take them with additions. Then he went to sleep, +and left Hood to escort Perpetua to Bab-lock-hythe. She was +adventurous that afternoon. 'She has outgrown the curate,' Hood +thought. The explorer's words recurred to him: 'She might do for +Africa.' 'Not if I know it,' he answered them in his own mind. + +His interest in her grew that day, and the next day, when the +explorer was convalescent. The day after that he said 'Good-bye,' +and escorted the convalescent to Oxford. + +'Good luck!' said the explorer as they parted near the Martyrs' +Memorial, each bound for his own college. 'Let's stick to our own +way of life, we two. Don't let's get middle-aged just yet, like +Warner and Davies. And, mind, drop that agency rot, and leave the +curate to Perpetua. They're just the age she twenty, he twenty-five. +You, who're forty-one, have pity!' + +That evening Hood smoked his pipe in a college garden. One who +had taught him years ago was there. Hood was fairly candid as to +his real thoughts when he talked to him. He was telling the tale +of that rainy night, as the summer twilight darkened, 'I'm just +forty,' he said. 'It seems as if I could hold my own a bit with +younger men, D.G.!' + +His friend looked at him thoughtfully. 'It's fictitious youth, he +said. 'Supposing you were to try marrying and settling down. +Supposing you were to try deserting your perennially youthful +bride the Great Adventure, or the High Romance, or the New +Jerusalem, or whatsoever you call her. Supposing you settle down +with an earthly bride say, a sweet-and-twenty one! Supposing you +had to toe the line of four-meals-a-day in a country vicarage. +You would know your age then.' + +Hood looked uninterested and aloof. But he recurred to the +subject again later on, and he asked whether a certain living in +the near neighborhood had been filled. + +'No,' said his friend; do you want it?' + +Hood flushed up. 'It's the sort of place I'd like to settle down +in,' he said, 'if I were coming home. But why should I come?' + +His friend made no answer at once. The same sort of wistful look +came into his eyes that Hood had noticed in the explorer's eyes +that afternoon. + +'Why should you not?' he said at last. 'Yet I for one would like +you not to renounce the perpetually juvenile lady. I'm not in a +hurry to see the last of your glad, perennial youth.' + +That night Hood lay in his friend's spare room, looking out over +the Gardens. He was reading in bed a college list. It had pencil +notes of the deaths or careers of some contemporaries. Rousing +himself from his researches, he sprang up and put the book away. +He leaned down to the window-shelf. What was that book with the +stained red cover! He remembered a romance that had come out in +his college days of twenty years ago, a book by one who had had +his own rooms before him. He took it back to bed with him, and +turned over the pages. At last he found the lyric he sought. One +of its verses held the tag he had remembered so often, but had +forgotten, and wanted that evening, wanted to confirm his own +halting decision: + +'In a wife's lap, as in a grave, +Man's airy notions mix with earth.' + +He put down the book and switched off the electric light. He lay +a long while in the moonlight, thinking himself far away to +earthen walls and guttering candles. He thought of the chill +penury of lack of blankets that he had known in winter. Also of +the sun's summer glare on white wagon-roads and Kaffir paths. +What wonder that wayfarers' eyes amass many wrinkles around them? +Yet how young one had kept after all; and at what speed one would +age here with electric light and sheets and a stately dinner to +tempt one! 'Man's airy notions.' Yes, he had got some very airy +notions still, whereof the earth was not worthy. Getting old +didn't matter, of course, so much; but he wanted to stick to +doing his own work (his Lord's work) in his own way. He didn't +want to leave like-minded friends in the lurch either. Nor did he +see his way to hug the shore at home with Perpetua, while the +curate braved the 'foam of perilous seas.' Would he ever have the +heart to watch her fresh face spoiling in Africa? Could he bear +to see it wizened and withered in the Tropic of Capricorn? No! + +He was soon asleep. + +His first waking knowledge was of his friend's asking him the +question, 'Are you going to apply for that living?' He had his +'No!' ready from that last night. + +'I'm glad,' his friend said. '"Fly our paths, our feverish +contact fly!" I'd like you to take my advice and be happy yes, +and useful as well as youthful.' + +'All right,' smiled Hood from his pillow. 'I mean sailing next +month.' + +He went to his home in Kent that same day, and rejoiced in the +Weald. His sister and he made a pilgrimage to Canterbury before +the month was over, from Sevenoaks by way of the Downs. + +'This was where Marlowe went to school,' she reminded him. 'I +think he might have been almost as great as Shakespeare, don't +you?' + +'I don't know,' Hood answered. 'He was a different sort. I can't +imagine him settled down in middle age at Canterbury like +Shakespeare at Stratford. "His raptures were all air and fire." +His airy notions refused to mix with earth somehow.' + +The conversation was not very important, but it showed the +continuing trend of Hood's purpose. He hardened his heart and +went to the Upper River no more ere his sailing from Southampton, +nor did he press the curate to sail with him. The latter wrote +him a very dubious letter. He would make no promises about work +in Africa now. Hood gathered that Perpetua was relenting. + +The explorer sailed with him, to his joy, instead of the curate. +They went up from Capetown in continuing amity together. At last +they parted far upcountry. Hood went on his lonely way, not +without some retrospects and some doubts as to his decision. + +At a roadside station a well-tried comrade came to greet him. +This friend had married last year, and his wife was donkey-riding +and foot-faring with him. They were but just back from many miles +in very wild country. Seven carriers were with them. + +'Heavy loads!' said Hood, shaking his head. 'So you carry chairs +and a table into the Veld?' + +'Home comforts,' growled his fellow-missionary. 'Why not be +comfortable? And why, too, didn't you bring a wife back? Some one +said.' + +Hood smiled, and the missionary's wife smiled back at him. 'He's +better as he is, dear,' said she to her grunting husband. 'He's a +foot-slogging free-lance. We're the household heavy cavalry. He's +different.' + +'Wait and see if he remains so,' rejoined her husband solemnly. +Then the train screamed and went off. + +Soon Hood was landing at his own rail-head and receiving the +greetings of many brown people. They seemed glad to see him as he +straggled back so forlornly to them up the platform, and out of +the station. His holiday was done. + +But he was soon forlorn no longer. They had so many delights and +anxieties to share with him his traveling comrades. Soon they +were striding away far up the remembered road together. They were +through the drift. How low it was now in this droughty time. Then +they wound along the valley. Hood peered curiously among the +ruddy-leaved bushes as they came round the shoulder of a hill. +Was the silent teamster still outspanned there? No, he was not +there to make them welcome, or to sleep away the tyranny of their +presence. He had fled their 4 greetings, fled their speech and +smiles.' Never mind. If the road was lonely, Spring was in the +land. How the trees and the bushes glowed! 'Surely no man ever in +a land of exile found more of a warmth of welcome home!' he +thought to himself. + +It was on Christmas Day (last Christmas Day) that, Hood tells me, +a momentous letter came to hand. It was from Berkshire, and he +did not read it till the time came for him to turn towards his +veld-home. He had held Christmas services in various places. + +He was now looking forward to a rest and to supper-time. He was +sitting outside a wayside school as he read that letter. Some +Mashona children had brought him clay figures as Christmas +presents. They graced the grey rock beside him one big figure and +a little figure or two in clay skirts, also a quaint version of a +perambulator. They showed up rather drably against the glory of +Western sun and blue sky. + +The letter announced Perpetua's plighted troth. It was from the +curate. He added that they were both looking forward to settling +down shortly in the family living. They might be married in April +or in June. Hood smiled and lit his pipe resignedly. + +'So his airy notions of Africa are mixed with earth,' he thought, +'honest Berkshire earth, hurst sand, or down chalk, I suppose. +No, I'm forgetting. That rectory's across the river in Bucks or +Oxon, I forget which. Anyhow the earth's got the better of the +air, and it's arranged that Africa's not to see him.' His eyes +fell upon the clay family grouped beside him. 'It's good +Perpetua's having a home and a family in prospect,' he thought. +'One understands that there's a good deal to be said for such +things when Christmas comes round, at any rate.' + +Some words came into his head, words of his favorite poet weren't +they? 'I hope I shall never marry; the roaring wind is my wife, +and the stars through the window-panes are my children: the +mighty abstract idea of beauty I have in all things stifles the +more divided and minute domestic happiness.' He looked at those +clay grotesques rather tenderly. He was thinking of a story in a +life of St. Francis he had read only yesterday, how he had made +him figures of snow and called them in irony his wife and +children and servants. 'Here is thy wife, these are thy sons and +daughters, the other two are thy servant and thy handmaid; and +for all these thou art bound to provide. But if the care of so +many trouble thee, be thou careful to serve one Lord alone.' + +He said over to himself those unforgotten words, sadly rather +than scornfully this time: + +'In a wife's lap, as in a grave, +Man's airy notions mix with earth.' + +He shouldered his knapsack. Then he commended the clay figures to +their donors; he asked them if they would mind looking after +them. He was very grateful; he would have them kept in the school +to remind him of things that earthy little family of his own. + +Then airily and fierily he splashed away down the path for home. +Through the marshland he went, and down towards the stream. He +forded the wagon-torn drift eagerly, climbed up out of it, and +strode away beyond. + +How young and fresh he felt as he went away again on his campaign +with earth and water! How air and fire subdued their sister +elements to themselves! + + + +PISGAH + + + +We had been going sixteen days on the home course to England, and +I had come to know him fairly well. He was a seaman who had +sailed the self-same mail-boat for some years past. I remembered +him on a brighter trip in summer-time when I was a good deal +younger and took the languors of the voyage less slumberously. +Now it was winter-time on the home-side of the Line, and I was +sailing under a cloud of news grave and stern. So I was rather +prone to see most things as much alike in a sort of dream of +neutral colors. My seafaring friend had helped me in the sultry +nights further south, had shown me a sleeping place high up among +the ropes, had called me in the grey dawn, or warned me when +lightning flashed and it seemed that a downpour threatened. +Afterwards we had passed Madeira, a cheering vista with its white +walls and red roofs and purple bougainvillea, and settled down +into wintry weather and storm-vexed seas. Now the last night up +the Channel had come, and the weather was calmer. We had seen the +scowling Ushant coast in the sun and shower of an icy mid-day. So +we were looking for a light to show very soon now an English +light, a Dorset light and the pulse of our chill quickened to +racing rhythm. 'How many voyages have you made before this one?' +I asked my friend as we leant over a rail together. He mentioned +an astonishing number. 'You must know a lot about the things that +I want to know' I said, 'the going to and fro of people, their +starting out and their coming back again. Doesn't it all seem +pretty stale to you by now?' 'No,' he said; 'it's my living, and +besides that it interests me watching the game. It's an +interesting bit of the game that I see, don't you think, sir, +coming to the fringes of two Promised Lands, and not tackling the +job of settling down in either? I've got interests, though, in +both of them.' He was silent, and we both filled our pipes again. +This friend of mine interested me: his reading tastes had +surprised me: he borrowed Mr. Masefield's works and Miss Olive +Schreiner's, but I had not often found him communicative till +that last night before reaching home. 'I'm better where I am +earning a sure living,' he went on. 'I've got a boy put to school +at Southampton; no, not mine I'm not married. But he's staying at +school a long while. I don't particularly want him to go out to +South Africa, speaking for myself. His father didn't do +particularly well there as people reckon, but yet I don't know. +He enjoyed his life in his own way, I think. I saw enough of him +to understand that, and the boy seems bound to go back there: +bound or tied's the very word. He was born up the country, and +carried on a Kaffir woman's back in her goatskin, and knew more +Kaffir than English, and wore veld-schoen when he came back on +the boat with me.' 'When was that?' I asked. 'When his father, +Walter Holmes, came aboard seven years ago come this next March. +That was the second time his father traveled with me. He came on +before, fifteen years earlier, when first he traveled to Africa, +and I remembered him well enough. I was on the old boat. I've +only served on the two boats all my time.' 'What did he go out to +do?' I asked. 'Oh! he went up to join the pioneers at Kimberley. +A counter-jumper he'd been, and he'd got his head all stuffed +full. It was 1890, one of Rhodes' big years, the year they went +north. It would have done you good to hear him talk. He was so +keen, and his eyes glowed. Just like the water glows near the +keel in the tropics.' 'That must have been a time,' I said; 'I've +only read about it. It was before I saw the country.' The sailor +grinned and spat. 'I reckon there hadn't been better days for +young fellows to live in,' he said, 'not since Queen Elizabeth's +reign. It came just between the two Jubilees the time. Kimberley +and Rhodesia and the native wars and the Raid, and the big war +looming on ahead for by and by. I reckon it was something like it +was in Drake's and Hawkins' and Sir Walter's days.' That was a +new view to me. But it sounded likely enough to hear him bring it +out, who believed in it so evidently. 'It was all Ophir and El +Dorado,' he went on; 'I used to hear lots of it from people to +and fro. I'd see them going out to Africa and all the excitement +after the lagging times along the coast, when they came with the +dawn into Table Bay. I'd see them coming back, too, greedy enough +to see Portland Light then, like that stout party over there.' He +pointed to a paunchy miner who was flinging his leather cap up. +'He's seen it,' he said; 'yes, look there! One! Two! Three! +'Four!' + +My own eyes glowed and my heart hopped up and down. Yonder was a +verity of England once more after years of absence. People came +along to our corner of the deck and questioned and stared and +laughed to one another. 'But I want to hear the end of that +story,' I said, and I enticed him away with me past the wheel-house +to a place far out of the talk and the tramping up and down. +'How used the people to come back, did you say?' I asked him. +'Oh! some had done fairly well,' he said, 'and some were +broken, but it was good to see how slow they found the boat go, +getting back again, and how they hung on the lights.' 'Yet they +didn't stay long in England some of them?' I hazarded. 'No,' he +said; 'I'd see some coming back, and hear of lots more. The same +thing over again it would seem when we came into Table Bay, only +they were a bit older.' 'But some didn't come home to England, +did they?' I wanted him to tell me. 'No,' he said; 'you're right +there no doubt. This friend of mine named Holmes took a long time +coming. But I heard from him sometimes when he was up country. He +found the business of settling Canaan rough, I gathered. I think +I'm glad I heard about it from a distance. It mightn't have +suited me.' 'And he got married up there, did you say?' 'Yes, his +girl came out on this ship when he'd been out seven years or so. +He used to write to me sometimes, and he arranged about the boat +she came by. She was full of the farm she was going to; he had +written about it. She seemed to think that it was a regular +Kentish homestead. She wrote afterwards and thanked me for +looking after her on the voyage, and said she had found two huts +on a kopje when she got there. All their cattle died when her boy +was about six years old. Then she died. Holmes had a lot of +trouble that year. So he sold up and came on board the year +after. Waited for my boat, worse luck, and contracted enteric in +Cape Town. I thought we should lose him off Cape Verde. But it +wasn't a clammy night the night we passed the wind blew fresh and +we got him by. How he longed for home, for settling down in Kent. +Rhodesia was all very well when one was young, he had said. She +hadn't treated him so very well, but she had taught him to value +things at home. I thought we might land him home after all, when +we were a whole day or so past Cape Verde. But that night a +change came and he was gone. We dropped him over at sunrise, only +four or five hours after, so as not to cast a gloom over the +passengers, you understand.' 'And you took on his child?' I +asked. 'Yes, and wanted him to settle down in the south country. +No, not Africa Kent I mean. I thought I'd settle down with him in +the better of my two countries. For it is the better. I who've +looked down at both, like Moses on the mountain, have found out +that much. But it doesn't look a bit now as if he'll believe +in my advice.' 'And if he goes out, you'll follow him?' I +questioned. He smiled. 'I think I'll be simple enough for it,' he +said; 'I seem to want to renew my youth. I somehow used to be +sorry I missed my chance to follow his father up. Now that +generation's about gone the generation of King Solomon's Mines. +It doesn't seem like putting myself forward so much if the boy +himself asks me to come up with him, does it, sir?' 'And you want +to go.' 'Well if you look over Moses' Moabitish mountain long +enough, at a promised land, so to speak, you may get a hankering +to go in,' he said. 'It's not a better country. It's not a +heavenly; I don't make any mistake about that. But it's a country +that people have thought big things about, if they have carried +them out badly. I seem to have seen something of the right and +the wrong of it all these nights coming north to Southampton +Water or south into Table Bay.' 'And what's the conclusion of the +whole matter?' I said. We were almost alone on the deck now. +(There was just one lonely, lanky passenger strolling up and +down. I guessed that the rest were in bed, or going to bed or +having a last drink below. We went down the deck together and +took our stand behind that forsaken watcher of the shore-light. +He stood at gaze, pulling deeply from his pipe and drinking in +the four-a-time flashes with owlish contentment.) 'Oh! the +conclusion's what Solomon said right enough,' he muttered. 'Fear +and keep, and keep and fear. Perhaps he'd been out and visited +the men on his mines up-country.' He paused. I seemed to hear the +jingling of bar-glasses in a back-veld canteen as he did so. The +thud of drums, too, from Kaffir villages seemed to bear down on +us. The Channel breeze came to me as it were heavily laden with +the sounding challenges of the South. 'I suppose,' I said, 'it +makes a big difference when one loses the northern star. Those +southern skies painted with unnumbered sparks are all very well, +but one lacks the pole-star of honor one steered by in England.' +'Yes,' he said, 'It's there I reckon the Southern Cross comes in, +and people going south make a mistake not to notice it. When +one's out of sight of the old compass-point of English opinion +one feels the want of believing, if one's to make any sort +of a show. It's a bad look-out if, when one lives under the +Southern Cross, one can't understand it. Fear God and keep His +Commandments. Do you think God would have put that cluster of +stars to south if the South did not need it most?' + + + +A LION IN THE WAY* + +* This tale may seem obscure, I suppose, if read in modern +English. It may be interpreted in the light of two ideas: + +(1) The African idea about leanthropy or transmutation of man +into lion, an idea likely to linger on, I should think. + +(2) An idea prevalent as it seems in our Europe of old '. . . the +idea that when a witch in animal form is wounded, say by a blow +or a shot, the natural wound will appear on the human body when +the witch returns to her own person.' + +But I have topsy-turvied (2) in my tale. A.S.C. + +I saw the lion with my own eyes, his shaggy head haloed by the +rising moon. The Mashona who was with me had far sharper eyes +than mine. He saw a dark scar across its brow. He would know that +lion again, he told me. It was not a gun-shot wound it carried. +Surely it was the caress of a brother lion. + +The trader's road led down from the half-deserted kraal to the +drift. It forked into two wagon ways with a huge rock to part +them. There on the rock stood the lion expectant. That may not be +a heraldic term, but it is a true description of him as I saw +him. We watched him from the height above for what seemed a +longish time. + +Then in haste I stole back to the desolate kraal that I might +find Trooper No. 2. Had he not the chance of his life now to +shoot a lion? I found him in the kraal, angry with himself and +swearing at his Black Watch boy who suffered him silently. While +he swore at him I gave him some idea of what I was thinking, as +to his need of humility. Had I not seen him run ten minutes +before? All this took time. When at last his flow of words dried +up and he came with me, we were too late. The lion was no longer +against the sky-line. He had taken cover in the bush below. We +heard him there once or twice, but we saw him no more. This is +how these things came about. + +I had traveled into that forlorn country the day before, looking +for Carrot. He had been a pioneer and a reputed hero, not so many +years gone past. Now he was an Ishmael, receding and receding +before the tide of civilization. Like the eagle in Byron's lines +on Kirke White, he might blame himself, or at any rate credit +himself, for the turn things had taken. He had winged the shaft +that was draining his life, or at least his livelihood. He had +helped to bring on a native war that had expedited matters. He +had helped to wind it up in a very few months. + +So now the abomination of civilization, as he deemed it, was set +up in high places of the land. It was increasingly hard for him +to be a law to himself anywhere within the land's limits. He had +retired further and further yet again into the fastnesses of the +hill-country. Yet civilization had a graceless way of looking him +up. + +He was just by the Portuguese border when I visited him. I knew +him of old, and I wanted him to let his eldest son come to +school. He had told me a year ago to ask again. + +I went through a frowning gorge of rocks to the part-deserted +kraal, and found him sitting at his beer with three native +courtiers. He was a tall West-countryman, with a ragged dark +beard. His khaki was badly stained, and his hair was poking +through his hat. He spoke the tongue of this southern country +most volubly. He also reinforced it with ne'er-do-well words from +Europe that did her no particular credit. Just as I came up a +quarrel was in full swing. A free fight followed. Carrot broke a +black earthen pot over the head of one of those three. Out came +his swarthy wife that he had paid many cattle for, with his baby +in a goat-skin at her back; also his other children, aged about +eight, six, five, and four. + +There was much confused crying and protesting. But Carrot +dominated the scene in the end. The courtiers retired crying +'Shame!' and under protest. The most truculent of them was +bleeding freely from his broken head. I followed him to their +hamlet far down among the rocks and bandaged him. I camped +outside the Carrot homestead that night and the next day, and +learned something of the family's way of life. + +Carrot was shooting big buck sable and roan without a license, I +gathered. He was trading cattle for most of the venison that he +amassed. He had by now a goodly herd feeding in a green vlei near +the border. By and by he would sell them, he thought, and set +himself up in a wayside public-house. That was to say, if an +ungrateful Government could be squared somehow. He chuckled at my +protests. He had many tales in the speech of North Devon to tell +me. + +Many of them concerned the police, and were not altogether +unkindly, though disparaging. To Carrot, who could both ride and +find his way about the veld, the police seemed often deficient as +pathfinders and horsemen. The story he told about the five +European members of a police camp delighted me. One had got lost. +He who went out to look for him had got lost also. There was an +epidemic or something of the sort just then among the native +police, who, as a rule, piloted the troopers about and did +nurses' work at need. One after another of the remaining three +Europeans was engulfed in this exhaustive search. Then a grass +fire effaced the empty police camp. Carrot ended with a +speculation as to whether they were still looking for one another +or whether they had begun to miss their camp yet. + +He was good in a feudal way, I gathered a severely feudal way to +his retainers. He threw pots but seldom. His eldest child he +seemed to worship in some sort of pagan fashion of his own. + +The boy might have sat for a child Dionysos with his leopard-skin, +and his arm of golden copper thrown about his father's pot of +beer; black and big that pot should be painted. + +No, his father wouldn't let him come away with me; at least, not +this year. He graciously hesitated twice or thrice. But he ended +with the same proposal each time a drink and a postponement of +decision. I wanted neither. I would not go on wasting my days on +postponements, and I meant to start with dawn on the second +morning. But at sunset the night before there had been a +surprise. + +Just as the sun went down a strange native appeared in hot haste +and told a tale. + +Two ma-Johnnies were coming down the wagon road with five or six, +native police and camp-followers. The Government was looking up +Carrot once again. He had had two pots of beer that afternoon, or +most of them, and was not quite himself, otherwise he might have +gone his way at his ease. + +But as it was, a ghastly row woke the echoes, what with the +children crying, and the father singing and swearing, and the +mother scolding, as they tied up their bundles. Carrot kept +untying his in good humor, and searching for patent medicines and +a safety razor that could not be found. Then after he had started +he came back at least twice to give me a parting word. Meanwhile +the western glow began to be rivaled by an eastern glow. The moon +was brimming over the horizon. The Philistines of civilization +were almost riding into the kraal before Carrot had really gone. +My Adullamite friend was slow indeed with his farewells. Would he +ever be through with them? 'Good-bye!' he said. He was enjoying +the emergency hugely now that he was sobered. 'You'd better walk +down the road and meet 'em. Do remind 'em not to lose their mules +this time. No, I won't worry you to see me off. They might ask +questions. You must honor and obey the King and those who are set +in authority. But you won't want to give me away exactly. So +good-bye till next time!' + +A hundred yards from Carrot's dwelling I met Troopers 1 and 2 +Trooper No. I dusty and disheveled and livid with fever a lanky, +dark man; Trooper No. 2 trim and ruddy. The former could hardly +sit his mule as he trotted up to me. 'Have you seen Carrot?' he +asked in a sort of groan. I said 'Good evening,' and passed on. +Promptly he gasped to two native police to bring me along, and +went his way forward to explore the ruinous kraal. He felt +doubtful whether I was or was not Carrot, he told me afterwards. +He went for the three Carrot huts at once and began to search +them. There were no finds there. Then he questioned me sharply. +Two of his black watch knew me by sight, and I was soon set free +to go my ways. Then he gave clear decisive orders to No. 2 to +ride for all he was worth to the drift. 'The river's the border,' +he said; 'it's his old game to dodge across it. If he's taken his +kids with him he can't cross anywhere. It's a big river, and +there's only the one drift so far as I know. Go for the drift, +man, and we'll have him yet!' + +So Trooper No. 2, with the glory-thirst upon him, bustled off +with one black boy and four black men in red and blue. + +After he was safely out of the way Trooper No. I fainted. It had +been hard for him to keep going so long as he had. I spread a +blanket for him and made him a pillow. He was not long in coming +round. Meanwhile the great moon had climbed a little. The light +of the sunset was losing its brilliance as hers grew splendid. + +The sound of two shots came sharply to us. A minute or so after +No. 2's mule was galloping wildly past us through rocks and +ruins. A native trooper rushed for it, but missed its bridle. +Soon after that Trooper No. 2 galloped up on his feet. I should +judge from the pace he showed that he was a real sprinter. I had +noted him before as a trim little man and ruddy, and a sort of +personification of self-respect. Now he was blue and demoralized. + +'Have you caught my mule?' he panted anxiously. + +'Have you stopped our man?' Trooper No. 1 asked him coldly, his +face set very hard. + +'There's a lion in the way,' gasped Trooper No. 2, quoting +Scripture, whether he knew it or not. 'I got off my mule, I fired +two shots. Then my mule bolted.' + +'And you bolted,' said No. 1 with a sneer. He took no further +notice of him, but called the Black Watch corporal and gave him +his orders. 'Take three men,' he said. 'Get to the drift. Run for +your lives. Leave the path and go through the bush if there's +really a lion.' The four Black Watch were off almost as soon as +he had spoken. + +Trooper No. 2 began to explain matters at length to his senior. +But the latter did not suffer him at all gladly. Then it was that +I started down the drift road, asking No. 2's boy if he would +show me the place where they had seen the lion. I asked him if he +thought it was wounded. He answered me disdainfully. He showed me +how Trooper No. 2 shot the panic way the way to heaven. + +Then we came in sight of the lion standing, haloed by the disc of +the moon. As I have told you, I tried to give No. 2 a chance to +wipe out his stain. I went back to fetch him; he was taking +things hardly, doubtless, and I ought to try and do him a good +turn. He came, but the lion did not stand still to await him. Why +was I so glad he escaped? I don't think it was only because I was +afraid. Yet glad I was. So we gave him up, and tramped back to +the kraal. + +Soon after we were back one of the pursuers returned. He had seen +Carrot splash through the drift. He took his time and went at it +leisurely, I gathered, with his piccanin astride upon his +shoulders. On the other side a crowd of natives had received him +in triumph. They jeered at the police and shook their spears and +knobkerries. Carrot was safely across the border and among his +friends. + +'It's a lost trip,' said No. 1, and looked No. 2 up and down, as +we sat by the camp fire. No. 2 looked injured and ashamed at one +and the same time. He was not a hero on principle, I should +think, and he had not risen to this occasion. Some people seem to +hold that Britishers are heroes on principle all along our +frontiers, and rise to all occasions. I can testify that this +is not the truth, for I know my own deficiencies. As to No. 2, +there is some sort of mitigating explanation of his conduct to +be yet recounted. But no, even when I have allowed for this, +I am not disposed to write him down heroically efficient or +journalistically British not on that night at least. Just as +a Colenso now and then slips into our big campaigns, so the +monotony of our frontier triumphs gets diversified, I fear, and +not so very seldom. No. 2. is by no means the only man of the +diversifying type I seem to have met. I refuse to admire No. 2 as +he was that night, though I would excuse him. + +For the hero of that night, let us look away from him. What a +splendid night it was in the late autumn in the very end of May! +Stars seemed to fall in profusion. But the steady ranks that were +left showed no thinning to my dazzled eyes. I had much time to +watch them, I remember. + +Ours was a gloomy camp among the ruins under the stars. One +trooper was convalescent and irritable as well as disappointed. +The other was shaken and sulky with little to say. There were +great pauses in the talk. I thought how I congratulated Carrot, +the cheerful and irresponsible, on his escape. Assuredly his +would-be captors would have seemed to him dull dogs. Of course he +would have thoroughly deserved ordinary boredom. But theirs was +like a London fog. So it fell about that I had much time to give +heed to the Black Watch as they chattered over their fire hard +by. One was telling tales of lions, tales where the terror was +glamorous and ghostly. A hint of a surmise floated to me. It +recalled a type of mediaeval tale that had once entranced me. But +I said nothing to those young white men beside me whose frowning +faces were a study, and a pitiful one. I was intensely sorry for +them both. I just smoked my pipe, and made ready to go to bed +betimes. I was soon asleep, to dream of holy water and silver +bullets and to wake and rise as the cock was crowing (for the +second cock-crow I suppose) away down the hillside; I said an +added prayer of eager devotion, feeling myself to be a postulant +in great need of its answer. I made for the rock of vantage. I +found the lion's spoor in the growing light, and followed it +slowly and timorously into the bush and beyond. There had been a +shower yesterday about noon, and it was easy enough to follow it. +It led down and then up again. I guessed it might be leading me +to Carrot's huts and the troopers once more. But, no, it dipped +far down to that other group of huts wedged amongst the rocks, +where Carrot's boon comrades lived, where I had bandaged the hurt +head, where I had heard but just now the cock crowing. Two huts I +could see to be empty. It did not lead to either of these. It led +straight to the other wherein the embers of a fire shone red. +There was no lion within. I looked for the spoor of the lion's +exit. There was none. + +The retainer who had had his head broken by Carrot lay curled in +his blanket by the fire. He was sleeping an exhausted man's +sleep. It was hard work waking him. At last he sat up, a squat +patriarch with grizzled bushy beard and shrewd watchful eyes. He +was huddled in a queer parti-colored blanket purple and brown and +orange and grey. I tried to testify to him with zeal against +blackness of witchcraft. I told him with zest of the Light. He +looked blank enough. Afterwards I spoke of Carrot's escape. His +eyes underwent a change as I watched. The Light which lighteth +every man that cometh into the world, showed in them, as it +seemed to me. He was genuinely glad that his baas was out of the +wood. So clear an affection for the man whose mark he was wearing +touched me. I half emptied my tobacco bag into his hand ere I +said Good-bye in the roaring south-easter, under the saffron +streamered dawn. + +I surmised that Carrot owed his escape largely to a real hero +ready to face fire at need, whom we white men had not recognized. + +A new feeling of pity for Trooper No. 2 took me. Haply he had +miscalculated things as he pursued his unsanctified way. Haply he +a modern, had been handicapped from his lack of equipment, lack +of such discarded kit as I had dreamed about. Quite conceivably +he had wrestled last night, not only against flesh and blood, but +against principalities and powers unknown. + + + +AS TREES WALKING + + + +It was in the spring of last year that I started for a holiday +journey towards some ruins about a hundred miles away. I had +suffered much in the cold weather from fever and broken rest, so +I longed to renew my strength before the heats of summer should +be fully come. + +I started on a bright and calm September morning by the main +southward track, hoping to reach a friend's Mission Station on +the eve of the third day. + +I reached it then, but I had provoked my enemies by walking in +the chilly hours, and walking to weariness. I was feverish and +spent ere I reached Greenwood's Mission House. + +It stood under a towering granite kopje some ten miles only from +the ruins. I had never entered it before. When I last visited +Greenwood, quite two years ago, he had been working on a town +station. He was a dark, lean, rather ascetic-looking person, not +very talkative. I remembered the days when I had fought shy of +him; we had seemed to disagree on so many subjects, and he had +seemed to resent disagreement so intensely. But he had written me +two or three most friendly letters of late, and that nigh?, when +I came to his door so sick and sorry, he seemed to be kindness +itself. I soon revived by his fireside, ate my supper, and smoked +and talked with him to my great content. We were speaking about +roughing it, and told many camp-fire and roadside tales. As I +told and listened, I seemed to be my old self of a year ago once +more, tough and dogged, and rather sinfully contemptuous of +mosquitoes and malaria. Yet I had but a poor night after all, and +the yawning and shuddering chills came on with vigor at Church in +the early morning. I went back to my blankets after an aguish +breakfast, and Greenwood dosed me and told me to go to sleep. He +spoke with authority, and I obeyed. I did not wake up till the +early afternoon. I seemed to have lost much weight in those last +steaming hours, and also, to my joy, the fever. + +'I hope I'll sleep well to-night and get an early start to-morrow +after all,' I said to Greenwood. He looked at me rather intently +with his resolute grey eyes. + +'The fever is gone for the time,' he said, 'but I don't like the +look of your eyes at all. If I were you, I'd change your room +to-night and sleep in the Hospital.' + +'Where's that?' I asked. + +'Oh, not very far; half a mile at most. It's Saint Lucy's little +hospice on the hill there across the valley.' + +Afterwards, when I went out and sat on the sunny stoep with him, +he showed me the place. I could see a grove of trees standing up +on a near ridge and two or three thatched buildings in among +them; yes, and a white cross surmounting one of these. + +'It looks lonely over there,' I pleaded. + +'Oh, I'll come with you,' he said. 'I want to tell you the story +of the place before we blow our candle out; it may help the +cure.' So when sundown was near, he and three of his native +retainers started with me for the Hospice of Saint Lucy, carrying +goodly packs every one. I was rather dubious about that +expedition. + +'I hope it's warm there,' grumbled I to myself. 'If Greenwood's +as strong as a horse, I am not so just now. I wish he'd camp at +home in peace.' + +However, I tried to look interested as they made ready for us to +go and delighted, as we started away. + +Just as we went across the narrow valley the sun went down behind +St. Lucy's hill, and bells or gongs answered one another from +either side. + +'So you have a bell up there at the Hospital,' I said. + +'There's more than you expect to see at the Hospital,' said +Greenwood mysteriously. + +So there was. It wasn't a Hospital at all in our wonted modern +sense, but a rather ornate round Church. Outside, it was plain +enough, but within it gave me a sense of studied charm and even +costliness. No drug-covered or dispenser's table was admitted +within its doors, though both were to be found in one of its +neighbor buildings. The main building housed aids to recovery, +but they were of another type. Over the Altar was a life-sized +picture of Saint Lucy, golden-haired and blue grey-eyed, with +great splendor of shapeliness and stature, and real English +apple-blossom cheeks. She came along a rocky path through an +African forest; she was smiling, and had a far-shining lantern in +her hand. You could single out the trees in the forest, there was +the crimson-flowered tree yet leafless, and the wild fig-tree in +full leaf and cluster, and the wild orange-tree; the wild acacias +and the cactus trees were growing among the stones above. Far off +in the distance, at the back of the picture, there were dim +cliffs and pale sands and waves breaking in the bright star-light. + +The time was meant to be cock-crow. At least it seemed so, for a +red cock was perched on a tree-pole in the foreground of the +picture, crowing with a will. In the sky were many stars. The +quarter over the sea whence the Saint came was of excelling +brightness. There the morning star hung in a haze of glory. + +The Altar itself was of granite slabs and masses. Before it burnt +a purple-glass lamp, hung by chains of native smithy-work, rather +incongruously heavy, I thought. But who was I to cavil at this +jewel of a shrine in our wilderness? + +'Where are we to sleep?' I asked. + +'Here, before the Altar,' said Greenwood solemnly. + +Even as he spoke his house-boy came in with hushed feet, and +began to spread out our rush mats and many-colored blankets. Then +we went into the dispensary hut, and had our supper and many +pipes together, while the native boys chatted and chewed roasted +monkey-nuts in the hut beside us. I felt very hungry and happy +and healthy generally that night, and we sat at our table long, +and then smoked far into the hours of darkness. But, though he +told me many tales, Greenwood would not tell me the tale of the +place, however much I begged him to do so. That was kept for the +Shrine itself. That was not as other tales. + +We kept up a good fire, for the night was a cold one. + +The talk turned on pilgrimages at last; we spoke of many Shrines, +of old-time ones and of others in the heyday of their youth +still. Greenwood talked well on that subject. Was the aura of his +own Saint in the air of that dispensary? He talked with a +passionate faith about more than one Shrine, that left me almost +breathless. + +Then we argued about the Pilgrims' Way in Kent, as to where it +was that most pilgrims forded the Medway, and about certain +homely Kentish legends. + +Suddenly he rose and went to the door. He looked out on the +mighty vista of sable earth and spangled sky. + +'The moon is just going down and you ought to be sleeping,' he +said. 'And remember there is my tale still to tell.' + +So we went to the Church. We had one candle between us there. +Moreover, the purple lamp was burning, its quaint cup of wire-gauze +averted doom from many self-immolant flies. We knelt beneath it, +and he said the Prayers of the Shrine, then our own prayers +followed then he began to tell: + +'I was coming back from England twenty months ago and I chose to +come by the East Coast. It is a beautiful way to come. I saw +Zanzibar, where there are many hopes and memories. I slept two +nights far out of the city there, in a grove of palm trees. Then +the boat came back from the mainland and I went aboard again. + +'We started for a four days' voyage or so, to Beira. She came +aboard at Zanzibar, I think. Some one told me this, when I asked +about her afterwards. But I was never really conscious of her +presence till the second night of our voyaging. Then we met at a +Concert in the Third Class, that I had strolled down the deck to +patronize. To my shame I was traveling second, while she was in +the crowded family of the third. I went and spoke to her. + +'A child had had a bad fall from some steps, and she was +mothering him. It was a lovely and pleasant thing to see how she +did it. + +'He should wake up without much pain,' she said, with a smile, at +last. She handed the boy to his own admiring mother. Then she +turned to me, for I had been asking after him. + +'She began to talk about our common work. "I want to climb on a +new boat at Chinde, and go the way of the Lakes," she said. + +'Are you going to teach?' I asked. + +'"I hope I may teach at whiles," she said, "But I am sent first +of all to heal." + +'She told me about her hopes for her work. + +'"They tell me I have healing hands," she said. "I have a seed-grain of +faith, I think, and that is the secret of them." + +'I saw her only for a few moments. I will try to tell you or +rather to show you what she looked like, when I have ended my +story. She enlightened me not a little. I saw how lame a thing my +own journey was my leisurely dawdling back to my work. This girl +came as it were on wings, with power in her heart and will, that +would take no denial but God's. Her few words as we walked up and +down the well-deck were words that burnt and shone in the cold +dark. I am talking about things as I saw them just then. As a +matter of fact, I believe it was a blazing night with a moon at +the full, and stars dropping over one another. I remember that I +slept on deck afterwards. I had a sort of Midsummer South African +Christmas picnic feeling (up till cock-crow, when the fever that +had dogged me that month came again). It was really a consummate +night. But as she talked, she made it seem cold and dark, her +words were so radiantly kind. + +'T think we talked about Saint Vincent of Paris mostly, and of +men that had carried in their bodies the marks of the Lord Jesus; +and of the imitation of Jesus in India and Africa. Then she said +"Good night!" and was gone. + +'Next day that return of fever blurred my new visions of the +Light. Yet I was to see her again. An hour before we came off +Chinde, she asked leave to come up on to our second-class deck +and to bid me "Good-bye." + +'I was lying in a deck-chair, my hat tilted over my eyes, under +the morning sun. She was suddenly beside me and speaking to me. +She gave me a watchword out of that confident ending of Saint +Mark, to which, some people, who have their misgivings, attach so +little credit. It was this, "They shall lay hands on the sick and +they shall recover." Then she prayed for me, lifting up her +healing hands. And she held out to me a tiny flask that I might +anneal myself, "For that is your own office," she said. + +'My head had defied sleep, but now sleep came apace. It seemed to +me it came breathing about me with the light gusts of wind. I +slept, nor did I know when she said "Good-bye." + +'When I awoke the sun was westering. Some passengers had +trans-shipped for Chinde four hours or more ago, a man told me. +She was gone, and I was well. No, not well in one way, but mending. +That is all or almost all of my tale.' + +He had told it reverently. Towards the end of the telling, he +himself seemed to wander as he told. + +'What was she like?' I asked after a silence. + +'She was much like that picture of Saint Lucy,' he said. + +'I found a man in the third class, who had taken a really fine +photo of her, not a little snapshot. I had helped him with a +sketch of the voyage he was writing for some magazine, and he was +pleased enough to print me another copy. I sent it home that +month. A friend painted me that panel. I suggested that the name +of the Saint should be Lucy, it was on Saint Lucy's day she had +said "Good-bye." The picture came a day or two before this +Midsummer. He has done wondrously well, I think, if you remember +that he never saw her.' + +'How do you know that he never saw her?' I asked. + +'Yes, you may well say that,' he said. 'I sometimes think that he +had seen her, even as I. He has painted something of her light +and spirit. Look how she threads' that forest by night!' He held +the candle near, then he pulled it away. + +'Forgive me! How can you see her duly by this light? You must +have a real session before her in the morning.' + +I awoke early, but not too early, as it seemed to me. Dawn was +growing very bright, and spring seemed to be in the air that came +from the doorway. I sprang up and looked out. Light that was +already almost flame kindled the east. The leaves of the grove +about me had their spring colors on. There was quite enough +illumination to show how brilliant and tender they were ruddy and +green and mauve, and bronze that was almost gold. Day was coming +fast and so was Spring. I turned within and lit the candles on +the Altar. The purple lamp was burning low. I knelt down, and saw +Dawn and Spring, aye, and Summer too, in that picture. Eastern +light was streaming from that lantern Saint Lucy held. It was of +coral and silver set with pearls. Eastern light was in her happy +face. You could see even in that cock-crow dusk in the forest, +how the fig-tree and all the trees were stirring for Spring and +Summer. I took note now that Saint Lucy's wreath was of orchard +leaves and blossoms. I lifted up my thanksgiving there and then, +as the first sunbeams shone about me, for the rest and the light +that I had found, found at last for good as I hope in sultry and +weary Africa. + +Soon we were kneeling at the morning Sacrifice, then we went out +and broke our fast in the sunshine, sitting on rocks by the wood +fire. How hungry I was in that hill's pure air! + +When he had done, Greenwood showed me some of the workings of the +Shrine. A young mother, filleted and stately, brought her baby to +him. Almost naked but roped with beads, the boy hung in the pied +sheep-skin at her back. Greenwood folded a handkerchief that he +had brought from the Altar about his dusky head. It was of faded +blue and silver. Then he said prayers to the Father and to +Christ, and again to both of them, for the prayers of Saint Lucy +and that other. + +'It is not good to drug children so young, is it? He asked the +question as though defending himself. + +'I think this may soothe him better than a powder.' + +He told me how he had found that kerchief wrapped about his own +head on a certain sunny day when he lay sick aboard ship. 'It was +hers,' he said, 'handkerchiefs and aprons are Bible remedies.' + +Other pilgrims or patients came to him after that mother with her +child. He persuaded three or four of them to carry letters to the +doctor in the town. But he prayed for these too, and signed them +with oil from the Shrine lamp, ere he trusted them to his +friend's salves or surgery. By and by came three young men with a +boy. He was stricken and mad, they said. He had come home from +work in a distant town last month. Now he would stay speechless +for hours. He would wander far by day, and brood over the fire by +night. + +'Let him stay if he will,' Greenwood said. 'Let him wait in peace +here, and eat and sleep his fill, if he so desires. If he shall +sleep in the Holy Place a few nights, who can say what wonder +Christ may do?' + +The boy seemed to be an old friend of his, and stayed quietly by +him. His companions started off joyously down the hill, one of +them playing on the marimba. 'This is Merrie England come again,' +said I. 'Did not an unburnt Lollard upbraid the bagpipe din or +other music of pilgrims long ago? Wasn't that "lewd losel" told +by the Kentish Archbishop how useful such music might be say if a +pilgrim struck his toe on a stone?' + +'There are many pilgrims at this Shrine,' said Greenwood smiling. +'I am glad about it. I think she would be glad if she knew.' + +'Where is she?' I asked. 'Doesn't she know?' + +'I have tried hard to track her,' he said. 'Not a trace have I +found. I have asked our missions, I have asked the White Fathers. +I have asked Africans and Scots and Dutch and Portuguese. But she +has gone on her way out of sight.' + +'She has done some work here,' I said. + +'Yes,' he said, 'Angel or Saint, Faith Healer or Revenante from +Paradise, she has worked wonders here. Do you know, there is a +simple native cure I have ever so much faith in? It comes from +the root of a tree. Have not some men and women the same sort of +virtue in their wills and hands that trees have in their roots? I +seem to see men and women such as Father John of Kronstadt and +this my Saint Lucy of the Ship even as trees walking. + +The outstanding virtue of my patroness was surely in her blossom, +and in the fruit that blossom can yet bring forth. "As the apple-tree among +the trees of the wood" I found her. I sat down under her shadow for +those moments of time. And now, and all my days of grace, will her fruit +be sweet to my taste.' + + + +THE BLACK DEATH + + + +This is a story of a voyage home. The boat was one of the finest +on the line and we were not overcrowded. We had wonderful weather +that trip, brilliant sunshine relieved by a fresh little breeze +that kept its place, doing its duty without taking too much upon +itself, or making itself obnoxious. In the third-class we were +quiet on the whole, and what is called well-behaved, though +neither with millennial serenity nor millennial sobriety. + +A red-cheeked gentleman took a red-cheeked married lady and her +child under his vigilant protection. Two or three Rhodesians and +Jo'burgers enriched the bar with faithful fondness. Cards and +sweeps on the run of the boat and the selling of sweep-tickets +these all stimulated the circulation of savings. Hues of language +vied with hues of sunset not seldom of an eventide. + +Life was not so very thrilling on that voyage, the treading of +'border-land dim 'twixt vice and virtue' is apt to be rather a +dull business. + +There was no such incident as that which stirred us on another +voyage the taking of a carving knife to the purser by a drunkard. +On the other hand there was no unusual battle-noise of spiritual +combat such as may have quickened the pulses of one or two of the +boats the year of the English Mission. + +We were middling, and dull at that, on the "Sluys Castle," till +we reached Madeira. Then the description I have given of our +voyage ceases to apply. The two or three days after that were +exciting enough to one or two passengers at any rate. + +James Carraway had come down from Kimberley, he told me. He +was a spare, slight man, with a red moustache. He sought me +occasionally of an eventide, and confided to me views of life +in general, and of some of his fellow-passengers in particular. +I remember one night especially, when the Southern Cross +was in full view and the water about the keel splotched with +phosphorescence. Carraway had a big grievance that night. He +commented acridly on a colored woman that I had espied on board. +She was not very easily visible herself, but one or two faintly +colored children played often about the deck, and she herself +might now and then be seen nursing a baby. I had seen her on a +bench sometimes when I had gone to the library to change a book. +I had seen her more rarely in the sunshine on deck, nursing the +aforesaid baby. + +'One man's brought a Kaffir wife on board,' growled Carraway. + +I said, 'I thought she might be a nurse.' + +'No, she's his wife,' contended Carraway. 'It's cheek of him +bringing her on board with the third-class passengers.' + +I said, 'Which is her husband?' + +'He's been pointed out to me,' he said. 'The other white men seem +rather to avoid him. I don't know what your opinion on this point +may be,' he said. 'I consider that a man who marries a Kaffir +sinks to her status.' + +I said nothing. He did not like my silence much, I gathered. He +was not so very cordial afterwards. He was a man with many +grievances Carraway. + +When we were drawing close to Madeira, two nights before, on the +Sunday, Carraway touched the subject again. + +The parson had preached incidentally on the advisability of being +white--white all round. I thought he played to his gallery a bit, +in what he said. + +'An excellent sermon,' said Carraway. 'Did you hear how he got at +that josser with the Kaffir wife? That parson's a white man.' + +I said nothing. + +'What God hath divided let no man unite,' said Carraway, +improving the occasion. 'I don't uphold Kaffirs. The white man +must always be top dog,' etc., etc. + +Carraway grew greasily fluent on rather well-worn lines. I smoked +my pipe and made no comment. By-and-bye he tired of his +monologue. + +He gave me no further confidences till the night after we left +Madeira. + +Then he came to me suddenly about eleven o'clock as I stood on +the well-deck, smoking a pipe before turning in. + +'Come and have a walk,' he said, in a breathless sort of way. + +We climbed some steps and paced the upper deck towards the +wheel-house. There were few electric lights burning now. After +a turn or two he drew up under one of them, and looked round to +see whether anyone listened. + +'Don't give me away for God's sake,' he said. He held up a hand +towards the light pathetically. 'It's showing,' he said. 'God +knows why. God knows what I've done to bring it.' + +I said nothing, but looked at him and considered him carefully. +He certainly did not seem to be drunk. + +Then I examined the hand he gave me. + +'I don't see anything particular,' I said. 'What's wrong?' + +'Good Lord! The nails.' + +But the nails looked to me pink and healthy. + +'Tell me,' I said, 'What you think's wrong.' + +Yet he could not tell me that night. He tried to tell me. He was +just like a little boy in most awful trepidation, trying to +confess some big transgression. He gasped and spluttered, but he +never got it out that night. I couldn't make head nor tail of +what he said. After he was gone to bed it is true I put two and +two together and guessed something. But I was fairly puzzled at +the time. + +'You're a bit upset to-night,' I said. 'You're not quite +yourself, it's the sea I suppose, or something. Come to bed and +get a good night.' His teeth chattered as he came down the +ladder. I got him down to his cabin. + +'Thanks!' he said. 'Good night! I may come all right in the +morning. Anyhow I'll have a bath and try.' + +He said it so naively that I could not help laughing. + +'Yes, have a sea-water-bath, a jolly good idea,' I said. 'You'll +have to be up early. There's only one and there's a run on it +before breakfast. Goodnight!' + +I saw him again in the morning outside the bathroom. He came out +in his pink-and-white pyjamas; the pink was aggressive and fought +with the tint of his moustache. He looked very blue and wretched. + +'Well,' I asked, 'Have you slept it off whatever it was?' + +'No,' he said, 'let me tell you about it.' He began to gasp and +splutter. + +Just then another postulant came up, making for the bath-room +door. + +'Afterwards!' I said, 'After breakfast.' And I vanished into the +bath-room. It was probably Carraway, I thought, that had left a +little collection of soaps in that bath-room. He had brought a +bucket of fresh water with him apparently to give them a fair +trial. There was yellow soap, a pumice stone, and carbolic soap, +and scented soap. 'I'll keep them for him,' I thought. 'Somebody +may jump them if I leave them here. I wonder why in the world +he's so distrait.' I had my suspicions as to the reason, and I +laughed softly to myself. + +After breakfast he invited me back to the bathroom; there was no +run on it then. + +'It's quiet,' he said. Then after many gasps and splutters he +enlightened me. His nails were turning color, he told me. + +'Anyone would think I had Kaffir blood in me,' he said. + +Also his skin was giving him grave cause for solicitude. I did +not resist the temptation to take him rather seriously. I +administered philosophic consolation. I reminded him of Dumas and +other serviceable colored people. I rather enjoyed his misery; +poetic justice seemed to me to need some satisfaction. He, the +negrophobe, who was so ultra-keen on drawing the line was now +enjoying imaginative experiences on the far side of it. + +'It seems then,' I remarked, 'That you are now a person of +color.' + +He nearly fainted. He did not swear. He seemed to have lost all +his old truculence. He began to whimper like a child. + +'After all, I never shared your prejudices.' I said. 'Cheer up, +old man, I won't drop you like a hot potato even if you have a +touch of the tar brush.' + +He cried as if his heart would break. I saw I had gone too far. +If was like dancing on a trodden worm. + +'Carraway,' I said, 'It's a pure delusion. Your nails are all +right, and so's your skin. You're dreaming, man. You've got +nerves or indigestion, or something. It's something inside you +that's wrong. There's nothing outside for anyone to see.' + +His eyes gleamed. He shook my hand feebly. Then he held up his +own hand to the light. + +'It's there,' he said wearily, after a while. 'You want to be +kind, but you can't make black white. That's what I've always +said. It's the Will of God, and there's nothing to gain by +fighting it. Black will be black, and white will be white till +crack of doom.' + +I told him sternly that I was going to fetch the doctor to him. +He sprang at me and gripped my arm. + +'I trusted you,' he said. 'I needn't have told you. You +promised.' + +So I had like a simpleton. + +'Only give me two days,' he said, 'then I'll go to the doctor +myself, if nothing works in all that time.' + +So I said I would respect my promise loyally for those two days. + +'I only told you,' he said, 'because my head was splitting with +keeping it in. It's awful to me. I thought you were a negrophile +and wouldn't think so much of it as other fellows. But for God's +sake don't give me away to them. There's lots of things to try +yet. By the way, ask that parson to pray for one afflicted and +distressed in mind, body, and estate.' + +He did try many sorts of things, poor fellow. He was in and out +of that bath-room a good share of both days. He also tried drugs +and patent medicines. I saw his cabin littered with them. He +would sneak into meals those two days when people had almost +finished, and gobble his food furtively. + +I caught him once or twice smoking his pipe in the bath-room or +the bath-room passage. He would not venture amid the crowd on +deck. Only when many of the passengers were in bed would he come +up with me, and take my arm and walk up and down. That was on the +Wednesday night. + +Wednesday night came, then Thursday morning. Thursday forenoon +was long, and Thursday afternoon longer. + +At last the sun was low, and I began to count the hours to the +time when I might consult the doctor. + +I secured an interview with Carraway in the bathroom soon after +sunset. + +'Any better?' I asked for about the twentieth time. + +He shook his head dejectedly. + +'All right. We must go to the doctor to-morrow morning. But, O +Carraway, do go to him to-night, don't be afraid. It's only +imagination. Do go.' + +'I'll see,' he said in a dazed, dreary sort of way, 'I'll see, +but I want to play the last card I have in my hand before I go. +It's a trump card perhaps.' + +'On my honor,' I said, 'You're tormenting yourself for nothing. +You're as white as ever you were.' + +Then I said 'Good-night.' I stopped for a moment outside the +door, and heard him begin splashing and scrubbing. The thing was +getting on my own nerves. + +I went off up on deck, and smoked hard, then I read, and wrote +letters, and smoked again, and went to bed very late. I had +steered clear of the bathroom and all Carraway's haunts so far as +I could. Yes, and I had gone over to the second class, and I had +asked the parson to do as he wanted. I had asked him the day +before. Now I asked him over again. + +The steward handed me a letter when he brought me my coffee in +the morning. I opened it and read: + +DEAR SIR, Perhaps my negrophoby is wrong. Anyhow, it's real to +me. I had and have it, and see no way to get rid of it properly +here on earth. Now God has touched me, me the negrophobe, and +colored me. And to me the thing seems very hard to bear. +Therefore I am trying the sea to-night. + +'In the bath-room there never seemed to be enough water. I want +to try a bath with plenty of water. But I am afraid it may be +with me as it would have been with Macbeth or Lady Macbeth. Those +red hands of murder could not be washed white by the ocean, they +could only "the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green +one red." What if I cannot be decolorized by any sea? What if my +flesh only pollutes the sea, when I plunge, and makes all black? +God help me!!! You are a negrophile and don't half understand. + +'Yours truly, + +'J. CARRAWAY.' + +I questioned the steward. He had found the letter in my place at +table. + +Sure enough there was a third-class passenger missing. I suppose +Carraway had slipped off quietly in the moonlight to try his +desperate experiment. It was a cruel business his monomania. + +If I had broken my promise and called the doctor earlier, could +he have been cured? Or would he have lingered in an asylum +shuddering over the fictitious glooming of his nails and skin, +shaking in a long ague of negrophoby. + +Anyhow, I'm sorry I didn't do more for him, didn't walk him round +the deck the last night at least, and try my best to cheer him. +Yes, I blame myself badly for not doing that. + +May God who allowed his delusion pardon that last maneuver of +his! I do not think Carraway had any clear wish to take his own +life. + +I can imagine the scene so convincingly Carraway pausing, +hesitating, then plunging into the moon-blanched water from the +dizzy height above, eager to find which the multitudinous seas +would do would they change his imagined color, or would they +suddenly darken, matching in their tints his own discoloration? + + + +AN OLD-WORLD SCRUPLE + + + +'If you come back, which Heaven ordain, you'll be all the more +use to the priesthood,' the Superintendent of Missions said. 'Go +and serve with our fearless and faithful, approach as an acolyte +the altar of freedom. Supposing you don't see your way to go, I +would remind you of a certain passage about "Curse ye Meroz!" I +need not insult your knowledge of the Scriptures by finishing my +quotation.' + +Osborne listened respectfully, but his eyes were looking far +away, with dreams of the veld in them. + +The Superintendent's preaching of a sort of Christian Jehad +appealed to him infinitesimally. + +There was a silence. He knocked his pipe out, and offered the +Superintendent a sundowner. + +'I'm glad to have had your opinion,' he said. 'I take it you +don't want me just now as a candidate for ordination?' + +The Superintendent flushed and hesitated. + +'You mustn't put it like that,' he said almost irritably. 'The +decision rests with you, of course. Of course we want men now and +want them badly. Yet I wouldn't press my recruiting needs just +now. It doesn't seem to me the right time to do so. Afterwards. . . . ' + +He gulped and spluttered as the big words rushed so fast to his +lips. + +He was enlarging on the big days for God's priesthood, when the +war, please God, should be over. Big days, that is to say, if the +only sort of fit and proper issue should be reached, as doubtless +it would be before long. + +'You mean a complete knock-out for the other side?' his hearer +interpolated crudely. + +'I mean a supreme vindication of our holy cause,' amended the +Superintendent with conviction. + +Then they changed the subject. + +Afterwards, when they smoked late on the lamp-lit stoep, +conversation was apt to flag a little. The layman's eyes would +grow abstracted in the intervals of his ceremonious hospitality. +The Superintendent watched his face intently once or twice. The +man was a mystery to him. He had an uneasy sense that he had not +taken his measure, and had been responsible for some sort of a +misfit more than once in conversation. Why was he not more like +ordinary people? Probably because he had lived a lonely life on +the veld much too long. The Superintendent was conscious of a +profound distrust of the untamed veld, its influence and its +inhabitants. Yet his natural kindliness, reinforced assuredly by +his grace of orders and Christian sense of duty, strove quite +heroically against that distrust. + +David Osborne walked over to see me next week, but he did not +find me at home; I was camping with a native teacher's wagon some +twenty miles away. + +He slept at my place, and came on after me. A thirty miles' tramp +or so it meant to overtake me, but he did not shrink from it. He +wanted to think out things, and he liked foot-slogging on a big +scale as a stimulus to thought. I was on a high ledge above the +windings of the Sawi River when he found me a ledge with a great +view of the Wedza hills. The sun was going down then, and their +blue was just dying into purple. I got him some tea, and he drank +and ate like a veldsman one who had broken his journey but little +since he broke his morning fast. He told me the Superintendent's +point of view, which I have already chronicled. 'It provides a +certain amount of excuse,' Osborne said, 'for what I want to do. +That's about all I can say for it.' + +'Then you want to go?' I asked. + +'I want a change,' he said, 'and adventures and all that. As to +any war's being a holy war, that's Greek to me.' I smiled. I +understood what he meant. + +I had only just come back from a limited experience of war as a +non-combatant. 'Why don't you say outright what you think?' he +pressed me. 'The Superintendent does do that apparently, I'll say +that much for him. Isn't Saint Telemachus still your bright +particular star of Christian sainthood in wartime? And isn't +Tolstoy still in your eyes a sort of forlorn hope the most +hopeful of modern war-time philosophers? Or have you changed all +that?' + +I looked him straight in the eyes, considering. + +'I have changed,' I said. He looked at me hopefully. He hadn't +seen me since I had come back from the war. 'So the holy war's +all right?' he asked. 'And the acolyte to the altar of freedom +and all that sort of thing? I attach some importance to your +opinion, remember, so don't say more than you mean. Having seen +war, which do you plump for? Tolstoy, Saint Telemachus, or the +Superintendent? Speak now, and kiss the Book on it.' + +I would have liked to laugh, but I did not dare. He was in such +desperate earnest. I answered: 'I have changed for the worse from +the Superintendent's point of view. I am not the same as I was. I +am more so.' + +He went to the war. But he went with a share of Reuben's curse +upon him. He wrote to me quite frankly from his East African +camps about the things that appealed to him, and the other +things. His experience seemed to bear out my own, for the most +part. He considered that some deplorable things had been done on +both sides, and also some very fine things. But as to the +efficacy of the machine guns he ministered to, in promoting the +Kingdom of God, he was under no illusions. He was possibly +disposed to exaggerate things, e.g., the vitiating influence of +war upon life about one. He was certainly disposed, I think, to +exaggerate his own coarsening, as a not very reputable campaign +proceeded. He harped somewhat morbidly on one particular strain +in his letters. How much better, he surmised, it would be for +Christianity and civilization if he and others like him should +never return to resume their places in Christian society! Some +verses that he sent me when he was under orders to join a rather +hazardous expedition, have, I believe, a certain sincerity in +their ruggedness. They are not very cheerful, are they? + +They have a note attached to them. N.B. We had Church parade this +morning, and the lesson was about Nebuchadnezzar's going into +retreat. + + + +LYCANTHROPY. + + + +They drove him forth as beast and not as man +Till seven times had pass'd. At last he came +Back to his Babylon, but not the same. +Nay! For he now had learn'd of Lips on high, +Herded with cattle, 'neath a dewy sky, +How patience cannot fail where passion can. +But we, war's wehr-wolves, we than wolves more +fain. + +(Grace-harden'd, deaf to Gospel, blind to Rood), +Fain to seek night-long horrors of the wood +Where the blood-trail is red, the blood-scent hot, +Shall we return in time? God, were it not +Best for Thy world we should not come again? + +But he was to come again, for all his reluctance and shrinking +from a return. He was to come through that campaign all right, +and back to our part of Africa that he loved so dearly. + +'We shall have him back, I hope, before the end of this month,' +the Superintendent of Missions told me. 'The Bishop seems willing +to ordain him before Christmas. He's not likely to need a long +diaconate, is he? Our Bishop agrees with me that he's had just +the kind of training for his priesthood that was most to be +desired.' I nodded dubiously. + +We were sitting in the Superintendent's well-ordered study, which +he preferred to call his office. Its big window took a discreet +peep at the veld, but it was not the untamed veld, only Rosebery +Commonage. I searched in my pockets, and after uneasy gropings, +unearthed a crumpled letter begrimed and tobacco-dusty. 'This +doesn't look much like his coming up for ordination,' I said. I +read an extract: 'Please give that Chinde boy in the College at +Cape Town a message from me. I was glad to hear from you how well +he was doing. I always liked that boy extraordinarily, and I +think I had a sort of glimmer of his pastoral destiny quite +early, soon after he came our way as a straying sheep. Now, from +what you say, he bids fair to be a quite respectable candidate +for the native ministry. Will you please offer him two or three +more years at the College to enable him to qualify, should that +be his own wish. I am quite prepared to be at charges for him. +It's a happy augury that his baptismal name happens to be +Solomon, even as it was rather a tragic one that mine happened to +be David. I don't see my way to building up God's House on the +old farm now, either literally or metaphorically, in the way a +priest should. + +I look on your boy at Cape Town as a likely substitute. +Vicariously I hope to offer by his hands, since mine are now too +stained to offer to my own satisfaction. I'll do David's part, +please God, and help him to build up the House, in both senses, +the house I might have built with my own hands, had they been +otherwise occupied than they have been these last months. I am +quite resigned now. It is all for the best, doubtless.' + +'What does he mean?' The Superintendent's rather assured face +grew quite indeterminate and puzzled. + +'What he says, probably,' I hazarded. 'He's got a scruple an +old-world scruple.' + +I picked up the Superintendent's khaki-covered Bible, and turned +over hastily the red, blue, and white edges. + +'Here's the passage,' I said. 'Listen to what his namesake, the +other David, said: "But God said unto me, 'Thou shalt not build +an house for My Name, because thou hast been a man of war, and +hast shed blood."' + +'Oh, that text!' said the Superintendent not very reverentially. +'I don't think that it's particularly relevant.' + +'Isn't it what he thinks that matters?' I asked. 'No, make your +mind up to it. When he followed your own advice and went off to +the war, he decided. He decided to remain a layman to the end of +his earthly days. Some of us have got our scruples. His took +shape that way.' + +'I don't see why,' said the Superintendent rather piteously. He +was genuinely disappointed. I liked him for the unconscious +tribute he was paying to him whom we discussed. + +'Be consoled,' I said with a twinkle. 'His farm promises to be a +real lay centre of Christian influence. May we not rest assured +of that? Trust him to encourage native industries and native +ideas; Trust him to believe in the veld. Trust him to read to his +veld-dwellers the Sermon on the Mount; trust him to live it +rather. Trust him to deprecate, by example, as well as precept, +excessive care for food and raiment. Our missions are apt to be +rather over-ecclesiastical, aren't they? Far too much of an urban +and Europeanized type, don't you think? Be consoled, his lay +settlement may be trusted to teach us a lot. God grant that his +native priest-designate he has chosen to be his Solomon, may soon +come along! Be consoled!' + +The Superintendent looked slightly aghast. 'I don't see where the +consolation comes in,' he groaned. + + + +FOR HIS COUNTRY'S GOOD + + + +Percy Benson opened his eyes and looked around him. He was lying +in a tiny grass-hut. How did he get there? He thought for a while +slowly; his head was very hot and heavy. + +Of course! This must be one of the hoppers' houses, and he had +got back into Kent or East Sussex somehow. Where had he been +lately? Not in Kent, or even in England. He could remember only +a confused medley of traveling by land and water, and a huge +home-sickness. Never mind, all's well that ends well. Here he was +back in Kent surely, and in a hoppers' house. What time of year +was it? That rather puzzled him. For was not that a mass of +cherry-blossom not twenty yards from the tiny doorway? Why should +they put up a hoppers' house before September? Why in the world +should they put it up when cherries were in flower? + +Never mind, he was in Kent; he would sleep ever so much better +now for knowing that. He put the cup of water that he found +beside him to his lips. Then he closed his eyes and slept anew. +When he woke again, hours after, a big man in flannel shirt and +wide-brimmed grey hat was standing by a wood fire outside the +doorway. It seemed to be just growing dark. The man was cooking +something in a pan over the fire. As he turned, Benson knew his +face. This was his old school and City friend John Haslar. He had +not seen him for years he could not remember how many. + +'Hullo, Jack!' he said. + +'Hullo!' said John with a start. 'That's much better. You've +slept well this last time! How do you feel now?' + +'Oh, better, much better,' said Benson. 'But I've had it badly. +Influenza, isn't it?' + +John looked at him with a question in his eyes, but did not +answer. 'I think you'll do now,' he said. 'You must take some +nourishment and your medicine, and then try to sleep again. I'm +your man for a talk in the morning, if only you get a good night. +I didn't come eighty miles to see you for nothing, I can tell +you.' + +Benson felt weak and weary, and did as he was told. Just as he +closed his eyes he said, 'I'm glad to be back in Kent ever so +glad.' He sighed a little sigh of relief. 'I can't think where +I've been all this time. I am really back again, am I not?' He +did not wait for an answer, but fell asleep. + +He woke up once in the night, and saw John sitting by the fire +and smoking his pipe. + +"This is a hoppers' house, isn't it?" he began. + +John turned round and looked at him with interest and pity. 'It +looks very much like it,' he said. + +Benson gave a contented sigh, and turned over on his side again. + +When he awoke in the morning his strength was really beginning to +come again. He was hungry for breakfast. He caught sight of a +dark, tall form by the fire on waking. But a minute or two after +it was gone, and John was back again. + +'Ready for breakfast?' he asked. + +Benson was soon at his porridge, and debating as to whether he +should finish with eggs or chops. + +'You'd better have what you really care for,' said John, and +stepped outside and gave a call. + +'Who's that gypsy-looking fellow?' asked Benson. + +'Oh, he helps me,' said John. 'He's all right.' He went out of +the hut and received a dish from somebody as he spoke. + +It was after breakfast that Benson made a request. 'I believe I +know where I am,' he said. 'Though I'm not quite sure, because my +head's still dizzy. I believe I'm back again in High Wood, just +near Hawkenbury, not two miles from my old home. What do you +think?' + +'I don't think I know that country,' said John, looking +uncomfortable. 'And I'm sure I've never been here before.' + +'I remember,' Percy Benson said, 'there used to be a little +grocer's shop down in Hawkenbury Street, where they sold mixed +biscuits, with lots of pink and white and yellow sugar, and +glass-stoppered ginger-beer. I haven't forgotten the taste, +though it's years ago. Do you think you could go down there, or +send somebody, and get me a bottle of ginger-beer and a pound of +biscuits. They're just what I'd fancy.' + +John looked doubtful. 'I know a place that isn't so very far off, +where they keep groceries,' he said. 'But I don't know whether +they keep ginger-beer in glass-stoppered bottles, or if they keep +that particular sort of biscuits. However, we'll try.' + +Benson slept a good deal that day. He talked between whiles +rather feverishly about the place, and how glad he was to be back +there again. John said very little, but that seemed not to +matter. Benson was glad enough to ramble on and on. He did not +appear to take much notice whether you answered his questions or +not. He was ecstatic rather than curious. + +The biscuits came and were a fair success. + +'Not quite so good as they used to be, but very good,' said +Benson. 'I like these sugar ones immensely; the ones with the +pink sugar are the pick.' But the ginger-beer was not of the +time-honored brand. It was drinkable enough, but it had a cork +tied, instead of a long cool mouth with a glass stopper. + +'I must walk down and do some shopping for myself to-morrow,' +Benson said. 'What a summer we're having. Did you ever see such +blue sky as we've had yesterday and to-day?' + +Next morning he was much better, and could get up and walk about +a little. John looked uncomfortable at times, as they sat over +their breakfast by the fire under the great trees. He was trying +to make up his mind to tell his friend where he was, and to +recall what had happened to him. He could see that, now the +fever-mists were melting, he was likely to be remembering for +himself before long. But how could he break things to him easily +without giving him a dire shock in his worn-out state? + +Then to him pondering, the crisis came of itself. + +Suddenly out of the woodland stepped a party of natives with +monkey-nuts, sweet potatoes, and other wares, very cheery and +smiling. + +Benson started and his eyes grew troubled. 'Is this Africa?' he +said. 'Then I'm not home after all not home after all.' + +'You're in Africa,' said John. 'You came up here about three +months ago, so they told me.' + +'I remember,' said Benson. 'There was some money trouble in the +City some bad trouble. Then I had to leave my little place in +Kent near Seven-oaks, just as I was getting it to rights.' He +looked miserable as he thought over things, this sallow little +City man. + +Meanwhile John traded some monkey-nuts and sweet potatoes for +salt, and sent the traffickers away. + +Afterwards Benson began to talk out of the bitterness of his +soul, and John lit his pipe and listened gravely. He talked about +his little estate near Sevenoaks, the cottages and the farm, the +Elizabethan manor-house, the school and church, the timber and +the planting of the new trees. 'I was just getting the place into +shape,' he said. And then he nearly broke down and cried as he +told about the trouble in the City, and how a family council had +been called, and he had agreed to go to this country for his +country's good, and to keep away. 'Oh this farm, as they call +it,' he said 'these thousands of acres of grass and rocks with a +tin shanty to die of fever in! How wretched I've been here! But +we aren't on the farm still, are we? This seems a bit better. It +regularly took me in, this place. I did really think I was in +Kent again.' + +John knocked out his pipe solemnly, and was just going to try and +say something comforting. + +But Benson began again. 'And how did you get here you, the only +friend I've got in this wretched country?' + +John told him that he had come down to see him, when he did, +without knowing how ill he was. He had had a letter from him, at +his store up in Rosebery last month, and for old sakes' sake he +had driven down when he had a chance to come away. When he +reached the farm he had found Benson lying at his homestead +unconscious from fever. The natives who were waiting on him +seemed to think him in danger. They said he had been sick for +days. John had gone to bed early that night of his coming to the +farm a glorious moonlit night. But long before dawn he had been +roused by a Kaffir boy with the news that Benson had risen and +rushed out. They tracked his wanderings to that beautiful stretch +of woodland, and managed to house him in a garden-hut of grass, +close by a clearing among the trees. Either John or his native +boy kept watch over him day and night then. But when he awoke +with that happy fancy of being at home, John kept away the native +boy, and put away, as far as he could, all the distinctive signs +of Africa. That dream of being at home might be a real help in +tiding his friend over a very wretched time. There he camped +under the two great trees with the wild white-flowered bush so +like an English cherry-tree in full September bloom about him, +and wondered what the issue of that comfortable delusion of +Benson's would be. It could not be expected to last anyhow, now +that he was coming back to sense and strength. + +Benson writhed as John finished his story. He went on with the +tale of his own black loneliness and grey home-sickness. The +glory of Kent and the charm of High Wood seemed to be gone like +the shadows of a dream already. What good had they done him after +all? + +John felt miserable as he heard him out. 'Look here!' he said, +'I've been doing well at the store, and I've got a good many +cattle that I'd like to run on this farm, if we can come to +terms; and I'll try and drive down every month or other month, +and stay with you for a bit and see how they're getting on.' + +Percy Benson's face grew bright again at that saying. He was very +weak, and prone to sudden ups and downs. + +'Oh, do promise you'll come every month,' he said. 'Weeks are so +long, and the one mail-day a week comes always terribly slowly. +Do promise.' + +John promised faithfully. + +Next day they went back to the homestead, a dull little iron +building on a rather feverish site. 'If I were you,' said John, +'I'd build where you have been lying sick. I don't like the look +of this other place at all.' + +'Yes, I shall build in High Wood; I want to call it so now. +It's a magical place, I think: I shall always feel something is +home-like when I'm there.' + +Life was growing brighter to him. His fever-fancy had opened his +eyes a little to the charm of the new country it was, at least, +here and there, not unlike the old country. + +'I think I shall fancy this place more now,' he said to John on +the morning they parted. 'But, oh, if you could only have seen +that little place of mine five miles from Sevenoaks!' + +'Look here!' said John. 'You've got a bigger estate here than +ever you had there, and you can find the same sort of interests +in it. Study your Kaffir tenants, and help them with ideas about +stock and ploughing and church and school. Your neighbors don't. +Well, more simpletons and arrant wasters, they! Believe me, +you'll find the new life much more like the old life in Kent, if +you do. Then study tree-planting, and look after this grand old +native timber. Expect me next month, on the 23rd.' + +He went away and left Benson lonely. But the real blackness of +his loneliness was gone. The planning of the new homestead would +keep him busy for a long while now. Was not healing virtue +exuding from that soil, which the happy dreams of his recovery +had consecrated? His fever had given him a new point of view, or +rather given him back his old Kentish point of view delight in +God's own country sights and scenes, care for his tenants, and +hope. + + + +LE ROI EST MORT + + + +The railway had almost crept up to Alexandra Then--the seventy-three +miles of its sandy pilgrimage were all but complete. In three +months or so it would be open to those who could afford their +penny a mile no, but I am forgetting, on the privileged group +to which it belongs no European may travel third-class. + +I did not welcome that railway with any warmth. The district +that it tapped had seemed to me a camping-ground of refuge, as +civilization pressed on. That district was a haven for the +Kaffir-trader, a haven for the transport-rider, a haven too for +the foot-slogging missionary, like myself. We have our faults, +all three doubtless, and deserve the spurning of civilization's +iron feet, when our time comes, doubtless. On the other hand our +displacement is a matter for some sympathy, it is likely to hurt +like other displacements. Also we are prone to note that the +admirable iron feet of our displacer are not unmixed with baser +clay. + +I came to Shumba Siding last Eastertide, on my way to Alexandra. +Charles Miller was there in charge of the line, and he offered me +a thirty-one mile ride in to within two miles of town if I would +only wait for a construction train. I declined in my stupid +sentimentality. For one thing I hate breaking up a plan of +combined foot-travel; it seems to me hard on one's native +fellow-travelers, on whom one is apt to call for big efforts. To +ride on ahead, and leave them struggling alone with the sandy +monster of a road for any long distance, seems vile desertion, +and I was by no means sure that the invitation to board the train +included them. Moreover, this might be my last journey in, on the +old road, under the old order. + +So I declined, but I lunched with Charles Miller Before I went +on. Marvell was there, the Kaffir store-keeper from ten miles +away. He had much to tell me of his wonderful good luck. The +big firm that were putting up the new Store at Alexandra, that +rail-head terminus designate, had asked him to manage it. + +He could marry now on his prospects. He had wanted to see me, and +had waylaid me on my road. The bride was due by coach to-morrow. +He hoped to get a Special License when once she had arrived. +Would I marry them on Monday? + +We had a good lunch with healths afterwards, but they let me +drink them in tea. Miller proposed the health of the bridegroom, +to whom the railway, or ever it came, had brought luck. Might his +luck last while the rails lasted, and grow heavier when they +should be replaced by heavier metals! Might he never make less in +a year than that railway had cost per mile! 'Three thousand five +hundred will take some making,' Marvell sighed to me. He +acknowledged the toast and proposed the Railway's prosperity. He +grew rather florid to my thinking, about the benefit to the +District how Kaffir gardens were to be displaced by up-to-date +farming, how tourists were to pour in athirst to explore its +ruins. He discoursed of the blessedness of ranching, and of +chrome and asbestos syndicates. He said that we were in at the +death alike of malaria, of blackwater, and horse-sickness. Then I +spoke up for the other side. I asked them to remember the old Era +in silence, and if they must drink, to drink to the transport-road +and the transport-riders, and to all pioneers, and old hands +going and gone, to the big native district and its dependencies, +so rich in cattle and so rich in grain, to God's Eden of a +country, and the people that He Himself had chosen to set there +to dress it, and to keep it before our coming. My toast fell +rather flat, I noticed. They both looked rather bored. + +Soon I pressed on, with fifteen miles or so to cover before our +camping-place would be reached. + +I had gone some ten miles before the construction train passed +me, and my carriers pressed through bushes and long grass for a +nearer view of it. + +With three or four white men on the engine, a Black Watch or two +and a few other natives on the trucks, it snorted along through +the woodland. As the night deepened and the moon rose, we came +close to the last coach-stable, and were soon encamped. + +The old Basuto near by gave me a drink of fairish water, but +water was far away, I was told. My boys straggled away wearily, +and came back at last, having seemingly missed the dipping-place. +They had brought something between a liquid and a solid. Boiled, +it was no doubt wholesome enough, but its taste was not such as +to tempt to excess. + +That night I dreamed, with a tag of Marvell's speech buzzing in +my head (I had garrisoned it with quinine before I slept). That +tag rang out in boastful refrain like the natives' curfew-bell of +Alexandra, a bell not always very punctually rung. 'We are in at +the death of malaria, of black-water, and of horse-sickness.' + +So clanged the bell, the bell in the market tower, the tower of +the dismantled pioneer fort. And it seemed to me that I saw +Malaria a lean yellow ague-shaken shape with a Cape-boy sort of +face, steal away out of the town past the new Railway Station, +and across the river. He went, like a frightened Kaffir dog with +a jackal-like yelp, far away into the Veld. I am not sure whether +he did not become canine on the way, at least cynocephalous. I +followed him. I went far in that following, over country that I +remember as very difficult, there were so many stumps of trees +about. Moreover, it had abundance of black-jacks to stud one's +socks with. 'He is going through dry places seeking rest,' I +thought. 'Soon he will return.' And sure enough we were to return +by-and by. And a jackal pack of seven, that I was somehow +expecting to come, came with us. We saw the lights of Alexandra +soon, but the people had gone to bed, it seemed. There was no one +about anywhere. Then the leading jackal fed foul and lapped long +at a great black drain. Afterwards he howled under a window of +the Hospital, and leaped through it, straddling his legs. Then I +awoke. + +I married Marvell on the following Monday, and partook of his +wedding-lunch. He made a far more florescent speech than that +earlier one, it compared with it as the nuptial champagne with +Miller's bottled beer. + +'The old Pioneer is now dead,' he told us, 'as dead as the Dodo +or the Great Auk. No longer need we take Quinine to be "our grim +chamberlain to usher us and draw" . . .' (here his memory of Hood +failed him). 'No more need we shiver in our Kaffir blankets at +Kaffir Stores 'fifty miles from the dead-ends of rail-less +post-towns. "Le roi est mort." Malaria is dead or dying so far +as Alexandra is concerned. We Alexandrians are now becoming +wholesome Englishmen in a wholesome White Man's country. Long +live the railway, and may it perforate the Alexandra District!' +'Amen,' said the best-man fervently. But I said nothing. + +I admired Marvell. It was just like him to press a guinea on me for +my Mission, though I told him there was no fee of any kind, and +that I was ever so glad to be there. The remembrance of my dream +stung me. I said something for conscience sake. 'Civilization has +its perils,' I said dully, 'immature civilization. The period +between no-drains and the up-to-date drainage system wants some +living through.' 'That's all right,' Marvell declared. 'I'll watch +it. I didn't go through Bloemfontein in the War for nothing.' + +'Le roi est mort: vive le roi! 'Alack! If Malaria slackened hold, +enteric tightened its clutch. People were found to say that the +latter state of Alexandra was worse than the former. Marvell and +Rose Marvell both got enteric. But, thank God, the uneasy +misgivings engendered by that eight-devil dream of mine about +Alexandra were not justified! They both won through. They are +going back to England for a change next month (the hay-making +month at home), they tell me. + +'God made the country, and man made the town, and the devil made +the little railway-swollen, transitional, Alexandra-sort-of-town.' +So Marvell wrote to me by last mail. He is not so keen now on +the transition stage of civilization for his wife's residence. +He is thinking of a pioneer place in Northern Rhodesia, either +that or London. If the perils of the old regime in Alexandra are +diminished, the perils of the new regime appear to have a knack +of growing. + + + +THE RIDING OF THE RED HORSE + +I + + + +Isaka rubbed his eyes, but he did not unroll himself yet out of +his blankets. He was lying in the darkness with a round of white +walls dimly seen about him. Through a hole in the grass roof, a +star met his fixed gaze. The cocks had but just crowed the second +time, and the light was but just winning way in the east. The +night was holding out steadily so far. + +Was it he, Isaka, who had awakened, or some other? He was not +very clear. Strange alike looked the happiness behind, and the +hope before him. He was not sure of himself in that twilight of +his senses. It seemed scarcely believable his title to either +gift of heaven to memory or to expectation. + +Surely but slowly his brain cleared, his doubt grew faint as that +star was growing, his outlook bright as the one pane in the wall, +looking east. He sprang up with one of the best wills in the +world; he was far too happy to be drowsy any longer. Soon he was +washing himself, and dressing himself in white, with real zest. +Last night had been a joy-night indeed, and the morning promised +brilliantly. It was doubtless he himself who had both reached and +enjoyed the night's happenings, he also who now stood firm on the +threshold of the morning, having reached that also. Isaka, who +had been Kadona, was a native of an African village with a far +glimpse on fair days of Kilimanjaro. Being born where he was, and +dwelling where he did, he belonged to a certain Central European +Power. Certain manifestations of that Power had made him uneasy +from his goat-herding boyhood onwards. + +He had walked warily, and kept an unscored back, but he gathered +that fellow subjects were not always so fortunate. At last the +claims on his attendance of a Government School had become +importunate. Suddenly he took his fate into his hands, bade his +family farewell (was not his mother dead these two years?), and +made for a track through the forest. Since he must go to school, +he would choose his own schoolmaster, and he chose one that he +knew. This teacher, as it happened, stood for another European +Power further west. He was fast ageing now, he could remember the +days before Europe divided up with such appetite so much of +Africa. He had been traveling on some teaching errand, and had +fallen sick and lain nearly a whole month at Kadona's village. +Kadona had brought him many gifts milk and ground-nuts and honey. +The sick man for his part had not been thankless. As for gifts, +he had given a knife and salt and soap and matches, but he had +also shown fellow-feeling, which meant much more. Their +friendship, signed and sealed outwardly by what they gave, was +underlain by affection of a promising sort. So Kadona went to +this teacher's mission, as to a city of refuge, traveling through +a bush country, and sleeping in huts of a strange speaking tribe +two or three nights of his way. He came to his host as man and +friend, and his trust was not abused. Afterwards his host, known +better, revealed new uses, he could doctor a little, he could +teach more than a little, he also held keys of certain joys and +wonders. + +By and by Kadona was illuminated to some extent by his friend. He +was allowed to exchange his name when the approved fullness of +time was come, on a day of benevolent mysteries. Henceforth he +was Isaka. He had changed his name six months before the eventful +morning I have chronicled changed it at the season he had come to +reckon the years by the good time of Christmas. + +Now this last night had been a brilliant one in the church that +he had learned to care for. There had been much glow of candles +and splendor of psalms and anthem. He had been taught to make +himself ready with light, so to speak, in view of the greatest +illumination on earth the Sacred Banquet of the morning. The +words of the anthem had rung in his ears like a trumpet in the +night, they had peopled and painted his dream. 'And I saw and +behold a white horse: . . . and He went forth conquering and to +conquer.' This morning was the Banquet morning. It was no marvel +that Kadona had been wonder-stricken at his awaking. The sense of +moving in a vision was hard to escape from, it seemed to him. He +moved towards the church like a man in a dream, and his feet felt +for the steps. Was it he who had been herding goats but a few +years ago, who had seen what he had seen on nights and at dances, +who had felt so naked and helpless before a harsh Government not +so very long ago? It did seem that it was he, and he was very +grateful. He stole into the church soft-footed, and glided +towards the blazing altar. Then he waited, trying to remember +what it was best to remember at such an hour. Had he repentance, +faith, gratitude, and love? He had so much of the last two surely +as to make some amends for defects of the others, or at least he +thought so. Yes, there was no mistaking his thanks, he thought to +himself. He remembered his night's dream afterwards when the bell +rang, and the Rider on the White Horse drew so near. Then he +lifted up his heart that he might meet Him on His way, tried to +open his heart as wide as it would go for the conquering Presence +to ride into it. + + + +II. + + + +The scene was a mission station once more, but a different sort +of interest appeared to be paramount in this busy station, other +than plain Evangelism. This was a Lutheran Mission, used now +in time of war as a collecting centre for the rice of the +countryside. The foreboding of Isaka's teacher had come but too +true. When Isaka had been telling him (on the day after the great +day) his dream of the White Horse and his Rider, he had read to +him the story of other horses and other riders out of Saint +John's Vision. And his face had grown troubled as he added, 'We +have proved what the riding of the black horse means here in this +mission of ours. Do you remember years ago how the rains were +short here, and how the people went hungry afterwards? And now +there are clouds in the sky clouds not of rain. Will the Red +Horse be ridden, as some prophesy? I seem to see him with the bit +in his teeth spurred by his rider our way. Pray, Isaka, I beseech +you, that the Red Horse and his rider be turned in their road.' +And he told Isaka something of what he meant, also something of +what that riding might mean to them all. And he would have Isaka +pray, and his schoolmates pray also. And they prayed, but for all +that this mad rider came galloping, the rider of whom Saint John +wrote, 'And there went out another horse that was red; and power +was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, +and that they should kill one another: . . .' + +It was nearly a year now since that morning Isaka remembered so +well, when the White Horse was ridden his way. Once again when +awaked. + +Isaka, Kadona, was not sure if he was dreaming, but this time the +main reason for doubt was that things seemed too bad rather than +too good to be true, things that had come or were coming, upon +the earth. Nearly a year ago now the news of the riding of the +Red Horse had come. Europe was in a horrible temper, and Africans +must do as usually, not what they wanted to do, but what Europe +bade. Isaka's English teacher must leave his school or his +liberty, he must either run away or stay fast in the Government's +hands a Government that was fighting England. He chose to remain, +hoping to help Isaka and others, but he had very little power on +earth left to him. For a little while he was allowed to stay in +his old home, and the school began to be broken up only little by +little. Then the pace quickened; some were drafted off as +porters, some as soldiers, some were allowed to stay and +cultivate for the Government. Its local officials' tempers +had apparently not improved with its troubles. None on this +alien mission within its borders were liable to be accounted +trustworthy, all were liable to suspicion. Yet Isaka worked on +happily for a while. When his teacher was moved to a place of +internment he was allowed to keep one body servant. He invited +Isaka to come, and Isaka came right willingly. He might have been +passed by, and the choice lain among others, but his teacher +asked him as the first choice of all, if he would come with him? +Was it likely that he would refuse? + +Then suspicion fell upon Isaka in a day of rebuke and blasphemy. +Probably he was to blame, probably he said more than he should +have said, probably he did not recognize how well off he was. +Anyhow the blow fell, and he was to be envied no longer, as he +had been. + +He was beaten rather mercilessly, and taken to be a Government +porter in a district far away. The tears came into his teacher's +eyes when he bade Isaka farewell; his own captivity was +wearisome, he was beginning to feel his age now; also this boy +had been as a son to him. + +It was all like an evil dream, this war, so fecund of death and +parting among friends, this riding of the Red Horse that had +haunted Isaka's visions of the night. The light was just coming +when he awaked from them at the German Mission Station. He was +loath and slow to unroll himself from his one torn blanket and to +step out of it. But someone kicked him angrily, and then needs +must. He had come on these last days ever so many miles, and +carried a full load. He struggled up stiffly, and crept to the +little fire that two of his fellows were heaping and lighting +while they chattered together. They were tribesmen of a district +far from his own. One was telling a story of how their white +masters with native soldiers had raided, a village. The other, +whose village it was, full-stopped the story with grunts or +deprecations. There had been some throats cut. Folk had been +bidden to lie down, so the teller said; they had lain down as for +the lash, but they had been paid in cold steel. Isaka listened +dazedly. The end of his Christian era seemed to have come as +suddenly and unexplainedly as the end of his Pagan era. His +teacher had preached 'love,' 'love,' 'love,' with Pauline +iteration, and not a little self-repetition. His teacher had +taught that war was an unclean thing haunting the heathen world, +and lurking in the blackness of Pagan villages. His teacher had +deprecated violence; it was his rule never to strike, nor ever to +rule by such fear as cast out love. + +Now, an askari (a native soldier) came up to the three, and he +was storming furiously. He laid on his lash right and left. Isaka +did not escape. They were to carry their loads at once, it was +said, by forced marches to a rice mill at the lakeside. In +another five minutes the big train of porters took the road, and +spread itself like a serpent up the trackway. Isaka was the +twentieth or the twenty-first in their advance. I do not think +that his illness which was to show itself in a day or two, was +really manifest on that day. Yet he went very heavily. Such +maladies were certainly upon him as a poet has diagnosed, 'blank +misgivings of a Creature moving about in worlds half realized.' +The ridings of Red and White Horses had so fast succeeded one +another in Isaka's circle, and had brought such different worlds +and atmospheres in their respective wakes! + + + +The Riding of the Red Horse 253 + + + +III + + + +Three days after, they were at the rice mill, and a July day was +breaking. Isaka lay and listened to the lapping of the lake water +lapping of the water in the greatest of African lakes. He was +lying beside a creek that was papyrus-fringed with curtains of +feathery green. A cloud of lake flies hung dark in the distance. +The soft lake haze redeemed landscape and waterscape now from +overclarity of outline the besetting blemish, as some might +think, of its mid-day. Isaka was really ill that morning. He +could hardly stir hand or foot. An askari came and looked at him, +and said something to his German officer. The latter came and +laid his hand not unkindly on his brow, found what the heat of +his body was, and gave him some drug out of their scanty store. +The great war with their fellow Christians was pinching them +sorely in the matter of medicines these sturdy patriots of +Central Europe. They were keeping their flag flying in a feverish +land where febrifuges meant much indeed. Isaka was let lie, and +he brooded over his dream the old dream that had come back so +intrusively last night into such alien surroundings. For he in +the province of the red-mounted rider had dreamed that He on the +White Horse came as an invader, the light of daybreak in His +looks, the faith of conquest in His eyes. + +Now, a friend happened upon Isaka that morning, one who had been +reared upon the self-same mission-crowned hill whither Isaka's +homesick mood harked back. How they spoke of old days together, +and warmed their chilled hearts again! Surely Isaka's dream had +heralded a measure of restored joy for him that morning, if +nothing better and more lasting. He spoke of his dream, and of +how it came first as the prelude of that Banquet, and of how his +heart had danced on that Banquet morning, and the sun had danced +in his sight at the sunrise. His friend was allowed to stay by +him, for the transport officer was kindly, and they talked on and +on. Isaka knew now that they thought his sickness a great one. +Suddenly came a wild stir among porters and native soldiers. One +of the English lake ships had shown round the point to northward, +and was heading fast for the bay. The one German hurried down +among the transport crowd, bidding them make haste and take +cover. His friend left Isaka. He was one of the few soldiers who +were to line the trench in a banana grove ready to dispute a +landing. But Isaka was bestowed in some long grass; there was +little time to carry him far. The ship rang and slowed down, then +she crept like a lean black panther into the place that suited +her spring. Soon she rang again, and stopped dead. There was a +ghastly pause of stillness. Crash! Her twelve-pounder spoke. +Crash! and crash! again, five times over. The rice mill showed a +gaping wound by now. Then two boats were lowered, the Indian +Ship's Guard and the British officers crowded into them, and the +African sailors pulled for the shore. Isaka crawled to a hummock, +and peered out to see what was happening. The shell fire had made +him pant and shake, his lips were full of prayers remembered and +half-remembered. The boats came nearer, they were almost up to +the log-built pier now. Had they been left alone till they had +come further, there might have been hope for the ambush of a +great bag, while the Indians were bunched together on the landing +place. But those in the banana grove trench were eager, they +would not hold their fire. The rifles cracked, the bullets +thrashed up the water, men crouched down in the drifting boats +with oars and rifles waving rather helplessly. It looked as +though they were likely to pay toll, wide though the shots had +gone as yet. Then the oarsmen pulled themselves together, and +rowed back for the ship's protection. There was not even an oar +or a boat hit after all. + +Isaka stared eagerly at the fight. He showed himself. A minute +after the ship's shrapnel burst near him, putting death's fear +upon his weakness. Someone had said that the ambush was in the +grass rather than in the banana grove, the ambush that was +screened so well. Was there just will and time left to invoke the +Rider on the White Horse of that unforgotten and abiding vision? +I think there was. Then the shrapnel burst over Isaka. He was +blotted, as his fellow Christians of the ship and her guns might +have expressed it. The twelve-pounder (or was it the four-inch?) +crashed again and again. The Maxim coughed and spat in a +paroxysm. The Rider on the Red Horse rode on relentlessly. + + + +THREE AND AFRICA + + + +We all three went a common way with rather a bad grace, and +Africa in a measure dominated our movements, or at least our +proposed destinations. I think she tightened her grip on all our +three affections by that journey, she made us more of her slaves +she has ever a hankering after the slave-trade, has she not? +In her shrewdness she gained a grip on us by very diverse +expedients. Me the restless, so feverishly tired of her, she +exercised in fresh fields. One result was, that I found out in +those trial-grounds ever so many reasons why flight from Africa +would be unthinkable for me. While as to him, my friend, whose +doom of exile from her she had herself done much to bring about, +I am sure that she dazzled him on that his road to the railway +(his Via Dolorosa,) making assurance much more sure that he must +leave his heart with her. As to her, my other friend, who had +taken Africa so complacently and so very much for granted, Africa +made revelations to her at each stage of a journey that was +rousing in itself, for it brought her away from her western +station to a very different countryside. And if these revelations +were not prone to stimulate affection, I am quite mistaken. I +could make out a strong case against Africa, on the grounds of +that journey, as capricious, inconsiderate, and so on. Yet before +I have done, I want to indicate pleas of extenuation. + +We were going with a donkey-wagon, he and I, the wagon wherein +she, my other friend, was riding. He had been in the Civil +Service, and suffered much from fever; yet he was leaving the +Service for other reasons as well as that particular one. He was +traveling cross-country to his exit station, prolonging thus his +pangs of farewell; he was making himself useful by escorting her +on her desolate road. Moreover, I was making myself courteous by +adding my own escort. I was under no delusion as to my being +useful. + +The donkeys were none too fat; they looked as if they had not +been used well, and were far on in life. With their driver I +differed as to beating them, but I will allow that they were dear +to him on the whole, and that he made progress in by no means +easy places. Indeed the road had been against us for many days +before the day on which I left the wagon; and I as wagon +conductor was to blame for the choice of it. I should have +yielded myself patiently to go the mighty round that the main +roads went. I had come almost due east at a venture, and when I +had lost my first stake by being disappointed of the by-road I +sought, I went on gambler-fashion. I had seen already how the +wagon stuck in a big river's sand-bed. How many times we had dug +out, how the whip and the driver's voice had plied, how we had +filled up the ruts with sods and grass-tufts, striving to gain +purchase for the wheels! And yet I was obstinately sanguine when +I heard a tale of an ancient trading road. It would be wondrously +direct, if one could win through by it. So along it, by my own +decision, we went. That first night that we turned off by it, we +stuck long in the waning light, trying to pull through a neck in +the hills. It was grievously cumbered with boulders, and we were +long in trying. Yet at last the driver rallied his team, and we +slept on the right side of the pass, clear of the granite, ready +for an early inspan next day. Then on the morrow we but crawled +along, till at last we stuck fast in a spruit's spongy floor. +That time we were not to pull out before we slept. Darkness drew +in on the struggles of the dead-beat donkeys. We outspanned and +went on with the struggle soon after sunrise, putting shoulders +to wheels in wild earnest. At last we were through, but we had +been delayed far into another day. That noon and afternoon the +disused road traveled through bush-veld. It had been ridden over +so little in the last few years, that there was much wood-cutting +now to be done. + +Our voorlooper was no scraggy piccanin, he was brawny and +bearded, an expert Mashona woodman. Now the woods bowed beneath +his sturdy stroke. But his labors took time. One shrank in shame +from the reckoning of miles covered on those days. Sunday came to +our rescue, and we lay encamped in the granite-country, very +grateful for our rest. On the Monday, its results showed. We +trekked gallantly for hours and hours, we pulled out of a swamp +at the first attempt; we even essayed a dreaded ford before we +outspanned. But we did not win our stake. Not till we had knocked +under, and outspanned once more did we struggle through. The lady +of the wagon waded barefoot to lighten it, she even helped to +coax a wheel up the further bank. At last we were saved from +relapse. But that night our travelers' joy flickered and faded. +We stuck grimly at a crossing; stuck at a mean little stream; +there we found odds against us, both rocks and also deep mire. So +we camped, leaving our wagon jammed in the stream's bed. + +Now I would tell you about that night and the next morning. We +got the lady's mattress out of the wagon. She could not well +sleep on it, where it was. There were many midges and mosquitoes +about then, for March was the time of the year; so we made her +bed on some high ground, close but not too close to our camp-fire. +After supper we sat about the fire long, the branch-heaped +blaze was comfortable after our chilly paddling. The wisdom or +folly that we puffed and inhaled and toasted and sucked and +munched over the fire is the making of my story. It is its best +excuse for a yawning lack of plot. + +Delia Moore, lady mission-worker, roasted monkey-nuts for us. +When they were at last ready, we all three munched at them. But +meanwhile Richard Anson and I smoked Shangaan tobacco, and Miss +Moore ate sweets out of a screw-topped bottle. + +Anson spoke about the charms of Mashonaland. He had been +quartered in many parts of her those last ten years; his +admiration had been consistent, it had also stood the test of her +feverish dealings with him. He said that she was the only country +worth inhabiting in a cursed world, that she was God's own +country. Then I fanned his flame with my own home-sick talk. The +wind was blowing chillily north-westward that night on the other +side of our ant-hill shelter. A kindred wind was blowing just as +steadfastly in my own soul. I had had my contrarieties lately, +both of hard times and pastoral reverses; but, and that seemed to +matter more, I was beginning to feel my age, its untimely growth +as my work grew. Had I not done my share by now? I painted scenes +in south-eastern England for my private view frequently now, +scenes in cool greens and sober blues and restful grey scenes of +weald and down-land, of hop-garden and country rectory. Over this +last my fancy played and kindled ruddily in tiles and roses. + +When I found words for these scenes they proved so many +battlefields, for Dick gave battle to my panegyrics impartially, +as I filed them up before him. He seemed to be very hard hit that +night, savagely bludgeoned by his doom of banishment. He said +that he hoped to come back someday. Anyhow, he said, would I try +to remember that he had chosen his burial-place a place where two +rivers commingled some two hundred miles north of where we were +camping? I promised to try. It seemed to me a pity that we Could +not interchange health and abiding-places he so ague-wrung, so +plainly doomed to go, yet withal so keen to stay. I, on the other +hand, full of home lust, England-amorous, yet so robust, so +lacking in any decent excuse to give over my job and go in that +green old age of mine. Then, at last, Delia Moore chimed or +rather clashed in, when she had roasted her monkey-nuts and found +a dish for them. She said that we were both wrong, we were both +so clearly called to do just what we were doing, he to go his +way, and I to stay on. But, contended she, her own move was a +more than doubtful one; she had been made into a rolling stone, +against her own judgment, by church despotism; the odds were +against her gathering moss to any reasonable extent. 'O,' she +appealed to me, 'look after my west-country work, whatever else +you do. My going east bids you in honor to stay.' I allowed her +plea with a nod. It was not till some while afterwards that I +propounded Africa's apology, as I had guessed it. Dick had been +talking, rather bitterly as well as floridly, about sighting the +cold Northern Star and losing the Southern Cross. I lay back and +gloated over the starry picture overhead through a crisscross +picture-mount of ragged grass. I left the confutation of the +scoffer to Miss Moore. There was an edge on many of her remarks +that night, and I could trust her to deal with him. But what she +said I have forgotten. Only I remember that he gave her best at +last. Then, and not till then, I broke silence, submitting +subjects for inquiry. + +'Are not countries and subcontinents like men born under stars +What star was South Africa herself born under? Not the Lyre +surely, her poetry is comparatively so negligible. Not the +Plough, nor yet Aquarius, for she is not blest with overmuch +irrigation, nor brilliant at agriculture. Neither was it the +Northern Star surely; constancy does not easily beset her. No, it +was the Southern Cross. Take the cross as a symbol inclusive of +more than Christian symbolism. Take it as a symbol signifying +peine forte et dure. Is it not peculiarly characteristic of +Africa to deal with us as she is doing? Does she not truly follow +her star in banishing you, and shifting you, and detaining me'? + +'That's all very well,' said Dick truculently, 'but I want to +know what WE are going to do. Are we going to take it lying +down?' + +I sniffed. 'I suppose we had better,' I said. 'And if we want a +decent handbook of procedure I am told that the Imitatio Christi +is excellent.' + +'Promise me you'll not leave the Station, so help you, at least +not till I come back.' Miss Moore plunged for a particular +shallow just when I was floating in gay generalities. + +'Let me have till to-morrow,' I asked. Then I spoke in Africa's +defense, setting out her case as well as I could. 'She's +emphatically a feminine continent,' I said. 'I learned only the +other day from a modern novelist that a woman's possibly at the +height of her power with a man, just when her contact with him is +but one of hope and memory. Surely that is true enough of some +women and some men. Isn't Africa one of such women, and Dick one +of such men? She knows her own business, and sends him to a +distance, bidding him consecrate "a night of memories and sighs" +to her. It's a doom that tends to bitterness on his part now. But +trust him by and by to taste the bitter-sweet of it. It's the +same sort of thing that I wrote raw verses about after I left +Oxford behind: "Not until you go from her will she come to you" +you know the sort of thing.' + +Dick grunted. Miss Moore complimented me on my preaching. My +lucidities, I feared, were missing fire. + +A donkey saved the situation, one of the two that were not +harnessed up for the night, there being no trek-gear for them. +With a grassy mouth he was chewing at Miss Moore's pillow-slip. +After many and shrill cries, it was rescued, but not before it +had taken stains of a deep green color. After such a misfortune +had been properly keened for, we sat down by the fire again. + +'Go on,' Dick said. 'Let's have your peroration.' + +'Well, as to Miss Moore Africa has shaken her up by shifting her, +and by giving her a lesson in local values, just as the donkey +has done about linen or calico, I forget which.' + +That started the keening again. + +'O,' said the mourner, 'my poor pillow-slip! But I'd give it by +the dozen to get back just to the one place the same old Mission. +You will promise to stop there till I come back, at any rate?' + +Worn out by continual dropping-fire, I promised, starry Heaven +being my helper. 'Let's go to bed after that,' I pleaded. 'I've +soared in an airy disquisition and I've come to earth in a gross +sort of pledge.' + +'No, you're to go on,' Dick told me. + +'What about yourself?' + +'O, I'm led out on a string. I'm given trotting exercise by +Africa within her own confines. I'm kept hanging about on her +veld, while she delays my donkeys. Meanwhile she shows me +out-of-the-way holes and corners where there's nobody to do the +work she wants done. She appeals to my shame and pity, she has made +a study of weak spots of mine. Has she not method? I meant to leave +the wagon last week, but I'm lucky if I get off tomorrow. What +with bad roads, spongy crossings, and indifferent donkeys, she's +landed me in a pledge to-night a pledge to keep me hanging on. +I'm in honor bound now to try to turn her night into day, just +like a cock in one of her kraals. While all the time I want to be +flitting North like one of her swallows this month of all months +in the year.' + +In the morning I renewed my pledge at a rock's altar a rock that +lichen had stained bright orange. I professed resignation, as did +the other two beside me. Then after breakfast, we shook hands. I +gave Dick a motto about Africa: + +She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, +For 'ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! + +I gave Delia a prayer to say for her westward return. 'Turn our +captivity ... as the rivers in the south.' Then I knelt by the +grey flat stone and prayed audibly, 'Give me a blessing; for Thou +hast given me a south land; give me also springs of water.' + +Soon I was striding away. There was little time to reach home by +the hour when home wanted me. Pity and shame, pity pointing east +and west, while shame spurns and aspires these two beams seem to +make up my own Cyrenian's burden the burden of the Southern Cross +for me. On the other hand, regret and adoration seem to supply +the same office for Dick, if I may judge by his letters. As for +Miss Moore, by far the most deserving of us three admittedly, +doubtless her faith is firmly rooted wherever she is, and her +sympathy spreads east or west, whichever way her duty calls her. +Nevertheless she would be still glad should the Voice call and +the Wind blow westward again, at least that is my own conviction. +In our several ways we three are devoted to Africa: one way or +another the Southern Cross is the constellation ascendant in each +of our three careers. + + + +OUR LADY OF THE LAKE + + + +We had been dining on the bridge of H.M.S. Kampala the captain, +the two ship's officers, the gunnery lieutenant and he who writes +this story. We had come in as it grew dark that August evening, +and anchored some few miles out from the German's great place. +For that great place a big gun, rumored or real, commanded +respect. + +I suppose our main object on that patrol trip of ours was the +stopping of rice-running, the preservation of our lake blockade. +We had had some firing a few days ago at presumptive stores, +also at a dhow and lighter dimly descried (they were in the +papyrus-fringed labyrinth of a boat-passage). But of late we had +been lying up for the most part off a lonely island. Perhaps they +would think we were out of the way, perhaps not. We should see +what we should see.' I suppose that the gunnery lieutenant was +almost as sanguine of adventure as I was of humdrum peace in this +after-dinner hour on the darkened bridge. Adventure, or at least +what seemed to be its promising prelude arrived quite suddenly. + +There was a sudden announcement to our captain about a light +being seen, a brief one-sided discussion, the whistle blowing for +'Stations,' the rattle of arms as the Indian ship's-guard fell +in. These all affected me with strange twinges of futile protest. +Surely there was a time for all things, and this was the time for +coffee and tobacco, not for disconcerting risks and detestable +noises. I wanted never to hear our four-inch gun again by +day. The idea of its shaking the peace of night to bits was +preposterous. Yet a light was reported ahead, a moving light on +the lake itself. 'You haven't much time, Craig,' I heard the +lieutenant cry to our captain. The engine-room bells rang +ominously, there was much puffing and spouting, then we were off. +I stole into a safe sort of corner, as corners went, by the +doctor's cabin. I edged out of the way of the Indian riflemen who +were sorting themselves, making ready for action. We were running +along somewhither. I didn't know much about our bearings, but I +had misgivings as to whether that big gun of the Germans was not +getting nearer. 'I've been thinking it may be a lure to draw us +on,' hazarded the Eurasian doctor by and by. That was just what +I'd been thinking. I was glad when the tension ceased suddenly, +not so many minutes after it had started. The light had vanished; +we were out of the hunt somehow it seemed; our captain meant +to wait till morning, then possibly he would show us a thing. +Meanwhile there were some hours to morning. We had had no +night-firing after all. Nor did there seem to be much prospect +of any. One might as well go to bed in the dark without delay. + +Morning came and we hunted around, but drew blank. Then we +started away to look for a supposed dhow in likely covers of +creeks or inlets, but we drew these blank also. What was the +vanished light? That of the resurrected German steam-tug? +Possibly. Possibly it was not that of a dhow after all. Anyhow it +was gone out of our ken. 'There's dirty work in there of night, +Craig,' the gunnery-lieutenant had said with a stern eye on that +German harbor. He spoke as a partisan. Was it such very dirty +work if they did run a little food across to feed their own +people? Anyhow their dirty work, whatever it was, had seemingly +baffled our immaculate patrol under our white ensign, for that +time at any rate. + +I don't think there is anything strange about this story as it +stands up to this point, do you? There may have been a dhow ahead +of us that night in August, and it may have been its light that +our watchman spied. Also it may have put out its light all of a +sudden, and so we may have lost it in the darkness. That simple +explanation sounds probable enough, doesn't it, when you come to +think of it? + +Nevertheless in the following week, a more romantic explanation +was tendered to me it concerned a gramophone. + +'That was the last tune before the light was seen,' a bluejacket +told me solemnly. 'It's a good tune, you perhaps know it, sir, +"Ave Maris Stella"'? We had fraternized over recollections of +Hastings, that was his birth-place. I told him how I had been +into his church there, which was not mine, Saint Mary's, Star of +the Sea. I recalled the blue-circled chancel and its glittering +stars with admiration. Now he was confidential about what had +happened a few nights before. He seemed to regard the putting-on +of that particular gramophone record at that particular moment as +significant. I was sympathetic, but I only grasped his point +vaguely. 'You mean,' I said. 'I mean that She may have meant it,' +he said rather confusedly. 'She may have meant us luck. If we'd +only gone in straight where Her light showed, we might have found +our luck.' 'You mean we might have captured Muanza, I suppose,' I +said rather skeptically. 'Well, we might have killed a lot of +Germans, sir, and done a lot of good. But our captain's too +cautious altogether.' + +'It's possible,' I said. 'She may have meant to give us the tip,' +he went on. 'I don't think it's likely, but you may be right,' I +said with some detachment. The notion of Our Lady illuminating +the lake that she might give us the tip to kill Germans was not +so very convincing. I'm afraid I choked off the surmiser a bit +with my Tolstoyite incredulity. He drew in his horns there and +then; he confided none of his views to me again on similar +subjects. He was to die at sea a year or so after. They had got +him on to a ship from an island hospital, but he never reached +the South African port they had shipped him for. I am glad now to +think of his faith in Our Lady, Our Lady good at need. + +It was before he went down to the coast, that we advanced and +took a great island renowned for its rice commerce. Then the day +came only a month or so after that our troops marched into +Muanza. The main body of its German defenders had steamed away +down that land-locked sound of theirs a little while before. We +had not stormed the place from the lake after all, we had arrived +by a back-door road among the kopjes. Yet there we were at last. +It seemed curious to be in the place that I had peered at +apprehensively on patrol. How mysterious its lights and its +harbor had looked from a darkened bridge or a deck of old. Now I +went to and fro in the glaring Boma square, climbed the road +among the rocks to the Fort Hospital with the tower and its dummy +guns, patrolled the palm-tree promenade where no band played, but +lake-water provided placid music much more to my taste than that +of drums and brass. + +It was in the church above the bay, the church of the White +Fathers, that I came upon my sequel, or at least what looks like +the earthly sequel of my story. Afterwards, of course, I may hear +much more. The White Father I had gone to see, took me into the +church one morning and showed me Our Lady's altar. Over it was an +altar-piece of familiar design I think it represented Our Lady of +Good Counsel, but I am not sure. In front votive candles blazed, +in very creditable profusion for those hard times surely. A +silver star with about two-inch points caught my eye. There were +other stars hung there too, much less conspicuous ones. There +were also two or three little models of dhows or boats set on a +ledge before that altar. I pointed to the silver star, and my +guide answered my mute question: 'A gift to Our Lady, Star of +this lake and these lake-shores,' he said. 'It was one night in +August of last year that it happened, the miracle or whatever you +wish to call it.' 'Did Our Lady appear on the lake?' I asked +keenly, for memories began to stir in me. 'No, not quite that,' +said the White Father. He had a brown beard, and a very white +face, and he spoke clear-cut English. 'There was a light seen +over the water.' Then it was that the surmise about the +gramophone recurred to me. 'Do you really think,' I asked, 'that +there was a light to be seen? If so, what was there strange about +it?' 'Well, it was a miracle of sorts,' he said. 'I didn't +believe about it at first, for I didn't see reason for it. They +said it was a light given to lure the English within range. That +was the talk of some of our Catholics in the town, but it wasn't +good talk. I argued against it.' He paused. Then I told him, +smilingly, the story of the gramophone. 'It's a parallel story,' +I said. 'Our Lady was indeed divided against herself that night +in her clients' estimation.' 'It shows the absurdity of war +between Catholics,' he murmured. 'Yes, of war between so-called +Christian nations,' I agreed. In an impulse I shook his hand. +'But there was a light,' I said: 'I saw it.' 'So did I,' he said. +'Was it the light of a dhow?' I wondered. 'No,' he said, +surprisingly, 'the dhow was on the other side of your ship.' He +pointed to the votive star. 'That star commemorates this sight of +a light, or rather of a star,' he said. 'I veritably believe that +the star light was Our Lady of the Lake's work. Yet she did not +in the least mean to show the English where to land and slaughter +us, nor on the other hand to lure them on to a fiery doom. Our +Lady wants the salvage of men's lives not their destruction. +Guess what happened that night.' + +I was puzzled. I took the star into my hand and looked it over. +It only had 'Muanza' graved upon it, 'Muanza' and the date of +that August evening. No, I gave it up. So he told me his version +of events. 'There was a dhow beating round the corner of an +island. The Goanese skipper had no idea that you were there. It +was a near thing. He was lucky, wasn't he, that the alarm of the +light seen by your watch came just then? He was running almost +straight for your war-ship. But you started off on a course that +took you far out of his way, started off on a light's chase or +rather a star's chase. He is a very pious man, that Goanese +skipper; he was here for two Masses this morning. He has a great +devotion to Our Lady, as I believe, and he knows how to pray. He +vowed a silver star to Our Lady Our Lady of the Lake, if she +would but bring him through with his ship safe. He made a fair +voyage after all. But he thanked the star that led you off from +him for it, say rather Her who kindled that star. He is a man of +prayer, the sort of prayer that invites miracles.' I was very +silent. I knelt before the statue a little. Then I said 'Good-bye.' +When I had said it I looked at two of the stars (that were not +silver) curiously. Were they not Belgian officers' stars, and +were they not likely to have a tragical history? 'Ask the silver +star-man, please,' I said, 'to pray for God's miracle of peace. +It does seem to me as if his prayers might do a lot of good. I'd +give Our Lady of the Lake a whole Southern-Crossful of stars +should peace come before the year's out.' Did he forget to ask +that star-man for his prayers? + + + +EPILOGUE + + + +[AFRICA AND HER GODMOTHER.] + +With shoes of crystal peace and glee +Christmas his clients proves: +They're misfits for those masters pale +And their white lady-loves; +But O they fit black boys and girls +Who clean their knives and stoves! + +I slipt from out the white men's church, +The northern chants rang cold, +And with the preacher's war-time words +My heart it would not hold, +Gay hymns and I alike had grown +In exile grave and old. + +I said 'I'll wander from the town +This cheerless Christmas Day.' +A church stood up beside my road, +And I turn'd in to pray. +Buff-brick its walls were, and its roof +Of ridg'd unlovely grey. + +I enter'd in, and joy was there +The Mass had just begun. +They filled the place from screen to door +The children of the sun. +Me seem'd that southern sun was glass'd +In eyes of ev'ryone. + +The server-men had lawn and lace +And crimson pageantry, +And boys were in their best, and girls +Wore kerchiefs bright to see. +Me seem'd those bare brown feet were shod +With crystal peace and glee. + +The incense-smoke it skein 'd and spir'd, +The vowell'd hymns rang clear, +A shrill bell rung by a brown hand +Said Christ was very near. +Me seem'd a sun-tann'd Angel stoopt +And caroll'd in mine ear. + +I Bless God for this our Christmas Ball +About our Christmas Board! +Our Church that faery Godmother +Her child hath not ignor'd, +And Africa, with heart in sky, +Is dancing to the Lord. + +The Old World's and the New World's drudge +Whom few would praise before +Now from the kitchen hath been claim 'd, +The stable and the store, +Christ claims her heart to dance with his +Where Europe's danced of yore.' + +With shoes of crystal peace and glee +Christmas his clients proves: +They're misfits for those masters pale +And their white lady-loves; +But O they fit black boys and girls +Who clean their knives and stoves! + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CINDERELLA IN THE SOUTH*** + + +******* This file should be named 22886.txt or 22886.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/8/8/22886 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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