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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + + +ACTIONS AND REACTIONS BY RUDYARD KIPLING + + + +CONTENTS + +An Habitation Enforced + The Recall + Garm--a Hostage + The Power of the Dog + The Mother Hive + The Bees and the Flies + With the Night Mail + The Four Angels + A Deal in Cotton + The New Knighthood + The Puzzler + The Puzzler Little Foxes + Gallio's Song + The House Surgeon + The Rabbi's Song + + +ACTIONS AND REACTIONS + + +AN HABITATION ENFORCED + + My friend, if cause doth wrest thee, + Ere folly hath much oppressed thee, + Far from acquaintance kest thee + Where country may digest thee . . . + Thank God that so hath blessed thee, + And sit down, Robin, and rest thee. + THOMAS TUSSER. + +It came without warning, at the very hour his hand was +outstretched to crumple the Holz and Gunsberg Combine. The New +York doctors called it overwork, and he lay in a darkened room, +one ankle crossed above the other, tongue pressed into palate, +wondering whether the next brain-surge of prickly fires would +drive his soul from all anchorages. At last they gave judgment. +With care he might in two years return to the arena, but for the +present he must go across the water and do no work whatever. He +accepted the terms. It was capitulation; but the Combine that had +shivered beneath his knife gave him all the honours of war: +Gunsberg himself, full of condolences, came to the steamer and +filled the Chapins' suite of cabins with overwhelming +flower-works. + +"Smilax," said George Chapin when he saw them. "Fitz is right. +I'm dead; only I don't see why he left out the 'In Memoriam' on +the ribbons!" + +"Nonsense!" his wife answered, and poured him his tincture. +"You'll be back before you can think." + +He looked at himself in the mirror, surprised that his face had +not been branded by the hells of the past three months. The noise +of the decks worried him, and he lay down, his tongue only a +little pressed against his palate. + +An hour later he said: "Sophie, I feel sorry about taking you +away from everything like this. I--I suppose we're the two +loneliest people on God's earth to-night." + +Said Sophie his wife, and kissed him: "Isn't it something to you +that we're going together?" + +They drifted about Europe for months--sometimes alone, sometimes +with chance met gipsies of their own land. From the North Cape to +the Blue Grotto at Capri they wandered, because the next steamer +headed that way, or because some one had set them on the road. +The doctors had warned Sophie that Chapin was not to take +interest even in other men's interests; but a familiar sensation +at the back of the neck after one hour's keen talk with a +Nauheimed railway magnate saved her any trouble. He nearly wept. + +"And I'm over thirty," he cried. "With all I meant to do!" + +"Let's call it a honeymoon," said Sophie. "D' you know, in all +the six years we've been married, you've never told me what you +meant to do with your life?" + +"With my life? What's the use? It's finished now." Sophie looked +up quickly from the Bay of Naples. "As far as my business goes, I +shall have to live on my rents like that architect at San +Moritz." + +"You'll get better if you don't worry; and even if it rakes time, +there are worse things than--How much have you?" + +"Between four and five million. But it isn't the money. You know +it isn't. It's the principle. How could you respect me? You never +did, the first year after we married, till I went to work like +the others. Our tradition and upbringing are against it. We can't +accept those ideals." + +"Well, I suppose I married you for some sort of ideal," she +answered, and they returned to their forty-third hotel. + +In England they missed the alien tongues of Continental streets +that reminded them of their own polyglot cities. In England all +men spoke one tongue, speciously like American to the ear, but on +cross-examination unintelligible., + +"Ah, but you have not seen England," said a lady with iron-grey +hair. They had met her in Vienna, Bayreuth, and Florence, and +were grateful to find her again at Claridge's, for she commanded +situations, and knew where prescriptions are most carefully made +up. "You ought to take an interest in the home of our ancestors +as I do." + +"I've tried for a week, Mrs. Shonts," said Sophie, "but I never +get any further than tipping German waiters." + +"These men are not the true type," Mrs. Shouts went on. "I know +where you should go." + +Chapin pricked up his ears, anxious to run anywhere from the +streets on which quick men, something of his kidney, did the +business denied to him. + +"We hear and we obey, Mrs. Shonts," said Sophie, feeling his +unrest as he drank the loathed British tea. + +Mrs. Shonts smiled, and took them in hand. She wrote widely and +telegraphed far on their behalf till, armed with her letter of +introduction, she drove them into that wilderness which is +reached from an ash-barrel of a station called Charing Cross. +They were to go to Rockett's--the farm of one Cloke, in the +southern counties--where, she assured them, they would meet the +genuine England of folklore and song. + +Rocketts they found after some hours, four miles from a station, +and, so far as they could, judge in the bumpy darkness, twice as +many from a road. Trees, kine, and the outlines of barns showed +shadowy about them when they alighted, and Mr. and Mrs. Cloke, at +the open door of a deep stone-floored kitchen, made them shyly +welcome. They lay in an attic beneath a wavy whitewashed ceiling, +and, because it rained, a wood fire was made in an iron basket on +a brick hearth, and they fell asleep to the chirping of mice and +the whimper of flames. + +When they woke it was a fair day, full of the noises, of birds, +the smell of box lavender, and fried bacon, mixed with an +elemental smell they had never met before. + +"This," said Sophie, nearly pushing out the thin casement in an +attempt to see round the, corner, " is--what did the hack-cabman +say to the railway porter about my trunk--'quite on the top?'" + +"No; 'a little bit of all right.' I feel farther away from +anywhere than I've ever felt in my life. We must find out where +the telegraph office is." + +"Who cares?" said Sophie, wandering about, hairbrush in hand, to +admire the illustrated weekly pictures pasted on door and +cupboard. + +But there was no rest for the alien soul till he had made sure of +the telegraph office. He asked the Clokes' daughter, laying +breakfast, while Sophie plunged her face in the lavender bush +outside the low window. + +"Go to the stile a-top o' the Barn field," said Mary, "and look +across Pardons to the next spire. It's directly under. You can't +miss it--not if you keep to the footpath. My sister's the +telegraphist there. But you're in the three-mile radius, sir. The +boy delivers telegrams directly to this door from Pardons +village." + +"One has to take a good deal on trust in this country," he +murmured. + +Sophie looked at the close turf, scarred only with last night's +wheels, at two ruts which wound round a rickyard, and at the +circle of still orchard about the half-timbered house. + +"What's the matter with it?" she said. "Telegrams delivered to +the Vale of Avalon, of course," and she beckoned in an +earnest-eyed hound of engaging manners and no engagements, who +answered, at times, to the name of Rambler. He led them, after +breakfast, to the rise behind the house where the stile stood +against the skyline, and, "I wonder what we shall find now," said +Sophie, frankly prancing with joy on the grass. + +It was a slope of gap-hedged fields possessed to their centres by +clumps of brambles. Gates were not, and the rabbit-mined, +cattle-rubbed posts leaned out and in. A narrow path doubled +among the bushes, scores of white tails twinkled before the +racing hound, and a hawk rose, whistling shrilly. + +"No roads, no nothing!" said Sophie, her short skirt hooked by +briers. "I thought all England was a garden. There's your spire, +George, across the valley. How curious!" + +They walked toward it through an all abandoned land. Here they +found the ghost of a patch of lucerne that had refused to die: +there a harsh fallow surrendered to yard-high thistles; and here +a breadth of rampant kelk feigning to be lawful crop. In the +ungrazed pastures swaths of dead stuff caught their feet, and the +ground beneath glistened with sweat. At the bottom of the valley +a little brook had undermined its footbridge, and frothed in the +wreckage. But there stood great woods on the slopes beyond--old, +tall, and brilliant, like unfaded tapestries against the walls of +a ruined house. + +"All this within a hundred miles of London," he said. "Looks as +if it had had nervous prostration, too." The, footpath turned the +shoulder of a slope, through a thicket of rank rhododendrons, and +crossed what had once been a carriage drive, which ended in the +shadow of two gigantic holm-oaks. + +"A house!" said Sophie, in a whisper. "A Colonial house!" + +Behind the blue-green of the twin trees rose a dark-bluish brick +Georgian pile, with a shell-shaped fan-light over its pillared +door. The hound had gone off on his own foolish quests. Except +for some stir it the branches and the flight of four startled +magpies; there was neither life nor sound about the square house, +but it looked out of its long windows most friendlily. + +"Cha-armed to meet you, I'm sure," said Sophie, and curtsied to +the ground. "George, this is history I can understand. We began +here." She curtsied again. + +The June sunshine twinkled on all the lights. It was as though an +old lady, wise in three generations' experience, but for the +present sitting out, bent to listen to her flushed and eager +grandchild. + +"I must look!" Sophie tiptoed to a window, and shaded her eyes +with her hand. "Oh, this room's half-full of cotton-bales--wool, +I suppose! But I can see a bit of the mantelpiece. George, do +come! Isn't that some one?" + +She fell back behind her husband. The front door opened slowly, +to show the hound, his nose white with milk, in charge of an +ancient of days clad in a blue linen ephod curiously gathered on +breast and shoulders. + +"Certainly," said George, half aloud. "Father Time himself. This +is where he lives, Sophie." + +"We came," said Sophie weakly. "Can we see the house? I'm afraid +that's our dog." + +"No, 'tis Rambler," said the old man. "He's been, at my +swill-pail again. Staying at Rocketts, be ye? Come in. Ah! you +runagate!" + +The hound broke from him, and he tottered after him down the +drive. They entered the hall--just such a high light hall as such +a house should own. A slim-balustered staircase, wide and shallow +and once creamy-white, climbed out of it under a long oval +window. On either side delicately moulded doors gave on to +wool-lumbered rooms, whose sea-green mantelpieces were adorned +with nymphs, scrolls, and Cupids in low relief. + +"What's the firm that makes these things?" cried Sophie, +enraptured. "Oh, I forgot! These must be the originals. Adams, is +it? I never dreamed of anything like that steel-cut fender. Does +he mean us to go everywhere?" + +"He's catching the dog," said George, looking out. "We don't +count." + +They explored the first or ground floor, delighted as children +playing burglars. + +"This is like all England," she said at last. "Wonderful, but no +explanation. You're expected to know it beforehand. Now, let's +try upstairs." + +The stairs never creaked beneath their feet. From the broad +landing they entered a long, green-panelled room lighted by three +full-length windows, which overlooked the forlorn wreck of a +terraced garden, and wooded slopes beyond. + +"The drawing-room, of course." Sophie swam up and down it. "That +mantelpiece--Orpheus and Eurydice--is the best of them all. Isn't +it marvellous? Why, the room seems furnished with nothing in it! +How's that, George?" + +"It's the proportions. I've noticed it." + +"I saw a Heppelwhite couch once"--Sophie laid her finger to her +flushed cheek and considered. "With, two of them--one on each +side--you wouldn't need anything else. Except--there must be one +perfect mirror over that mantelpiece." + +"Look at that view. It's a framed Constable," her husband cried. + +"No; it's a Morland--a parody of a Morland. But about that couch, +George. Don't you think Empire might be better than Heppelwhite? +Dull gold against that pale green? It's a pity they don't make +spinets nowadays." + +"I believe you can get them. Look at that oak wood behind the +pines." + +"'While you sat and played toccatas stately, at the clavichord,"' +Sophie hummed, and, head on one; side, nodded to where the +perfect mirror should hang: + +Then they found bedrooms with dressing-rooms and +powdering-closets, and steps leading up and down--boxes of rooms, +round, square, and octagonal, with enriched ceilings and chased +door-locks. + +"Now about servants. Oh!" She had darted up the last stairs to +the chequered darkness of the top floor, where loose tiles lay +among broken laths, and the walls were scrawled with names, +sentiments, and hop records. "They've been keeping pigeons here," +she cried. + +"And you could drive a buggy through the roof anywhere," said +George. + +"That's what I say," the old man cried below them on the stairs. +"Not a dry place for my pigeons at all." + +"But why was it allowed to get like this?" said Sophie. + +"Tis with housen as teeth," he replied. "Let 'em go too far, and +there's nothing to be done. Time was they was minded to sell her, +but none would buy. She was too far away along from any place. +Time was they'd ha' lived here theyselves, but they took and +died." + +"Here?" Sophie moved beneath the light of a hole in the roof. + +"Nah--none dies here excep' falling off ricks and such. In London +they died." He plucked a lock of wool from his blue smock. "They +was no staple--neither the Elphicks nor the Moones. Shart and +brittle all of 'em. Dead they be seventeen year, for I've been +here caretakin' twenty-five." + +"Who does all the wool belong to downstairs?" George asked. + +"To the estate. I'll show you the back parts if ye like. You're +from America, ain't ye? I've had a son there once myself." They +followed him down the main stairway. He paused at the turn and +swept one hand toward the wall. "Plenty room, here for your +coffin to come down. Seven foot and three men at each end +wouldn't brish the paint. If I die in my bed they'll 'ave to +up-end me like a milk-can. 'Tis all luck, dye see?" + +He led them on and on, through a maze of back kitchens, dairies, +larders, and sculleries, that melted along covered ways into a +farm-house, visibly older than the main building, which again +rambled out among barns, byres, pig-pens, stalls and stables to +the dead fields behind. + +"Somehow," said Sophie, sitting exhausted on an ancient +well-curb--"somehow one wouldn't insult these lovely old things +by filling them with hay." + +George looked at long stone walls upholding reaches of +silvery-oak weather-boarding; buttresses of mixed flint and +bricks; outside stairs, stone upon arched stone; curves of thatch +where grass sprouted; roundels of house-leeked tiles, and a huge +paved yard populated by two cows and the repentant Rambler. He +had not thought of himself or of the telegraph office for two and +a half hours. + +"But why," said Sophie, as they went back through the crater of +stricken fields,--" why is one expected to know everything in +England? Why do they never tell?" + +"You mean about the Elphicks and the Moones?" he answered. + +"Yes--and the lawyers and the estate. Who are they? I wonder +whether those painted floors in the green room were real oak. +Don't you like us exploring things together--better than +Pompeii?" + +George turned once more to look at the view. "Eight hundred acres +go with the house--the old man told me. Five farms altogether. +Rocketts is one of 'em." + +"I like Mrs. Cloke. But what is the old house called?" + +George laughed. "That's one of the things you're expected to +know. He never told me." + +The Clokes were more communicative. That evening and thereafter +for a week they gave the Chapins the official history, as one +gives it to lodgers, of Friars Pardon the house and its five +farms. But Sophie asked so many questions, and George was so +humanly interested, that, as confidence in the strangers grew, +they launched, with observed and acquired detail, into the lives +and deaths and doings of the Elphicks and the Moones and their +collaterals, the Haylings and the Torrells. It was a tale told +serially by Cloke in the barn, or his wife in the dairy, the last +chapters reserved for the kitchen o' nights by the big fire, when +the two had been half the day exploring about the house, where +old Iggulden, of the blue smock, cackled and chuckled to see +them. The motives that swayed the characters were beyond their +comprehension; the fates that shifted them were gods they had +never met; the sidelights Mrs. Cloke threw on act and incident +were more amazing than anything in the record. Therefore the +Chapins listened delightedly, and blessed Mrs. Shonts. + +"But why--why--why--did So-and-so do so-and-so?" Sophie would +demand from her seat by the pothook; and Mrs. Cloke would answer, +smoothing her knees, "For the sake of the place." + +"I give it up," said George one night in their own room. "People +don't seem to matter in this country compared to the places they +live in. The way she tells it, Friars Pardon was a sort of +Moloch." + +"Poor old thing!" They had been walking round the farms as usual +before tea. "No wonder they loved it. Think of the sacrifices +they made for it. Jane Elphick married the younger Torrell to +keep it in the family. The octagonal room with the moulded +ceiling next to the big bedroom was hers. Now what did he tell +you while he was feeding the pigs?" said Sophie. + +"About the Torrell cousins and the uncle who died in Java. They +lived at Burnt House--behind High Pardons, where that brook is +all blocked up." + +"No; Burnt House is under High Pardons Wood, before you come to +Gale Anstey," Sophie corrected. + +"Well, old man Cloke said--" + +Sophie threw open the door and called down into the kitchen, +where the Clokes were covering the fire "Mrs. Cloke, isn't Burnt +House under High Pardons?" + +"Yes, my dear, of course," the soft voice. answered absently. A +cough. "I beg your pardon, Madam. What was it you said?" + +"Never mind. I prefer it the other way," Sophie laughed, and +George re-told the missing chapter as she sat on the bed. + +"Here to-day an' gone to-morrow," said Cloke warningly. "They've +paid their first month, but we've only that Mrs. Shonts's letter +for guarantee." + +"None she sent never cheated us yet. It slipped out before I +thought. She's a most humane young lady. They'll be going away in +a little. An' you've talked a lot too, Alfred." + +"Yes, but the Elphicks are all dead. No one can bring my loose +talking home to me. But why do they stay on and stay on so?" + +In due time George and Sophie asked each other that question, and +put it aside. They argued that the climate--a pearly blend, +unlike the hot and cold ferocities of their native land--suited +them, as the thick stillness of the nights certainly suited +George. He was saved even the sight of a metalled road, which, as +presumably leading to business, wakes desire in a man; and the +telegraph office at the village of Friars Pardon, where they sold +picture post-cards and pegtops, was two walking miles across the +fields and woods. + +For all that touched his past among his fellows, or their +remembrance of him, he might have been in another planet; and +Sophie, whose life had been very largely spent among husbandless +wives of lofty ideals, had no wish to leave this present of God. +The unhurried meals, the foreknowledge of deliciously empty hours +to follow, the breadths of soft sky under which they walked +together and reckoned time only by their hunger or thirst; the +good grass beneath their feet that cheated the miles; their +discoveries, always together, amid the farms--Griffons, Rocketts, +Burnt House, Gale Anstey, and the Home Farm, where Iggulden of +the blue smock-frock would waylay them, and they would ransack +the old house once more; the long wet afternoons when, they +tucked up their feet on the bedroom's deep window-sill over +against the apple-trees, and talked together as never till then +had they found time to talk--these things contented her soul, and +her body throve. + +"Have you realized," she asked one morning, "that we've been here +absolutely alone for the last thirty-four days?" + +"Have you counted them?" he asked. + +"Did you like them?" she replied. + +"I must have. I didn't think about them. Yes, I have. Six months +ago I should have fretted myself sick. Remember at Cairo? I've +only had two or three bad times. Am I getting better, or is it +senile decay?" + +"Climate, all climate." Sophie swung her new-bought English +boots, as she sat on the stile overlooking Friars Pardon, behind +the Clokes's barn. + +"One must take hold of things though," he said, "if it's only to +keep one's hand in." His eyes did not flicker now as they swept +the empty fields. "Mustn't one?" + +"Lay out a Morristown links over Gale Anstey. I dare say you +could hire it." + +"No, I'm not as English as that--nor as Morristown. Cloke says +all the farms here could be made to pay." + +"Well, I'm Anastasia in the 'Treasure of Franchard.' I'm content +to be alive and purr. There's no hurry." + +"No." He smiled. "All the same, I'm going to see after my mail." + +"You promised you wouldn't have any." + +"There's some business coming through that's amusing me. Honest. +It doesn't get on my nerves at all." + +"Want a secretary?" + +"No, thanks, old thing! Isn't that quite English?" + +"Too English! Go away." But none the less in broad daylight she +returned the kiss. "I'm off to Pardons. I haven't been to the +house for nearly a week." + +"How've you decided to furnish Jane Elphick's bedroom?" he +laughed, for it had come to be a permanent Castle in Spain +between them. + +"Black Chinese furniture and yellow silk brocade," she answered, +and ran downhill. She scattered a few cows at a gap with a +flourish of a ground-ash that Iggulden had cut for her a week +ago, and singing as she passed under the holmoaks, sought the +farm-house at the back of Friars Pardon. The old man was not to +be found, and she knocked at his half-opened door, for she needed +him to fill her idle forenoon. A blue-eyed sheep-dog, a new +friend, and Rambler's old enemy, crawled out and besought her to +enter. + +Iggulden sat in his chair by the fire, a thistle-spud between his +knees, his head drooped. Though she had never seen death before, +her heart, that missed a beat, told her that he was dead. She did +not speak or cry, but stood outside the door, and the dog licked +her hand. When he threw up his nose, she heard herself saying: +"Don't howl! Please don't begin to howl, Scottie, or I shall run +away!" + +She held her ground while the shadows in the rickyard moved +toward noon; sat after a while on the steps by the door, her arms +round the dog's neck, waiting till some one should come. She +watched the smokeless chimneys of Friars Pardon slash its roofs +with shadow, and the smoke of Iggulden's last lighted fire +gradually thin and cease. Against her will she fell to wondering +how many Moones, Elphicks, and Torrells had been swung round the +turn of the broad Mall stairs. Then she remembered the old man's +talk of being "up-ended like a milk-can," and buried her face on +Scottie's neck. At last a horse's feet clinked upon flags, +rustled in the old grey straw of the rickyard, and she found +herself facing the vicar--a figure she had seen at church +declaiming impossibilities (Sophie was a Unitarian) in an +unnatural voice. + +"He's dead," she said, without preface. + +"Old Iggulden? I was coming for a talk with him." The vicar +passed in uncovered. "Ah!" she heard him say. "Heart-failure! How +long have you been here?" + +"Since a quarter to eleven." She looked at her watch earnestly +and saw that her hand did not shake. + +"I'll sit with him now till the doctor comes. D'you think you +could tell him, and--yes, Mrs. Betts in the cottage with the +wistaria next the blacksmith's? I'm afraid this has been rather a +shock to you." + +Sophie nodded, and fled toward the village. Her body failed her +for a moment; she dropped beneath a hedge, and looked back at the +great house. In some fashion its silence and stolidity steadied +her for her errand. + +Mrs. Betts, small, black-eyed, and dark, was almost as +unconcerned as Friars Pardon. + +"Yiss, yiss, of course. Dear me! Well, Iggulden he had had his +day in my father's time. Muriel, get me my little blue bag, +please. Yiss, ma'am. They come down like ellum-branches in still +weather. No warnin' at all. Muriel, my bicycle's be'ind the +fowlhouse. I'll tell Dr. Dallas, ma'am." + +She trundled off on her wheel like a brown bee, while +Sophie--heaven above and earth beneath changed--walked stiffly +home, to fall over George at his letters, in a muddle of laughter +and tears. + +"It's all quite natural for them," she gasped. "They come down +like ellum-branches in still weather. Yiss, ma'am.' No, there +wasn't anything in the least horrible, only--only--Oh, George, +that poor shiny stick of his between his poor, thin knees! I +couldn't have borne it if Scottie had howled. I didn't know the +vicar was so--so sensitive. He said he was afraid it was +ra--rather a shock. Mrs. Betts told me to go home, and I wanted +to collapse on her floor. But I didn't disgrace myself. I--I +couldn't have left him--could I?" + +"You're sure you've took no 'arm?" cried Mrs. Cloke, who had +heard the news by farm-telegraphy, which is older but swifter +than Marconi's. + +"No. I'm perfectly well," Sophie protested. + +"You lay down till tea-time." Mrs. Cloke patted her shoulder. +"THEY'll be very pleased, though she 'as 'ad no proper +understandin' for twenty years." + +"They" came before twilight--a black-bearded man in moleskins, +and a little palsied old woman, who chirruped like a wren. + +"I'm his son," said the man to Sophie, among the lavender bushes. +"We 'ad a difference--twenty year back, and didn't speak since. +But I'm his son all the 'same, and we thank you for the +watching." + +"I'm only glad I happened to be there," she answered, and from +the bottom of her heart she meant it. + +"We heard he spoke a lot o' you--one time an' another since you +came. We thank you kindly," the man added. + +"Are you the son that was in America?" she asked. + +"Yes, ma'am. On my uncle's farm, in Connecticut. He was what they +call rood-master there." + +"Whereabouts in Connecticut?" asked George over her shoulder. + +"Veering Holler was the name. I was there six year with my +uncle." + +"How small the world is!" Sophie cried. "Why, all my mother's +people come from Veering Hollow. There must be some there +still--the Lashmars. Did you ever hear of them?" + +"I remember hearing that name, seems to me," he answered, but his +face was blank as the back of a spade. + +A little before dusk a woman in grey, striding like a +foot-soldier, and bearing on her arm a long pole, crashed through +the orchard calling for food. George, upon whom the unannounced +English worked mysteriously, fled to the parlour; but Mrs. Cloke +came forward beaming. Sophie could not escape. + +"We've only just heard of it;" said the stranger, turning on her. +"I've been out with the otter-hounds all day. It was a splendidly +sportin' thing " + +"Did you--er--kill?" said Sophie. She knew from books she could +not go far wrong here. + +"Yes, a dry bitch--seventeen pounds," was the answer. "A +splendidly sportin' thing of you to do. Poor old Iggulden--" + +"Oh--that!" said Sophie, enlightened. + +"If there had been any people at Pardons it would never have +happened. He'd have been looked after. But what can you expect +from a parcel of London solicitors?" + +Mrs. Cloke murmured something. + +"No. I'm soaked from the knees down. If I hang about I shall get +chilled. A cup of tea, Mrs. Cloke, and I can eat one of your +sandwiches as I go." She wiped her weather-worn face with a green +and yellow silk handkerchief. + +"Yes, my lady!" Mrs. Cloke ran and returned swiftly. + +"Our land marches with Pardons for a mile on the south," she +explained, waving the full cup, "but one has quite enough to do +with one's own people without poachin'. Still, if I'd known, I'd +have sent Dora, of course. Have you seen her this afternoon, Mrs. +Cloke? No? I wonder whether that girl did sprain her ankle. Thank +you." It was a formidable hunk of bread and bacon that Mrs. Cloke +presented. "As I was sayin', Pardons is a scandal! Lettin' people +die like dogs. There ought to be people there who do their duty. +You've done yours, though there wasn't the faintest call upon +you. Good night. Tell Dora, if she comes, I've gone on." + +She strode away, munching her crust, and Sophie reeled breathless +into the parlour, to shake the shaking George. + +"Why did you keep catching my eye behind the blind? Why didn't +you come out and do your duty?" + +"Because I should have burst. Did you see the mud on its cheek?" +he said. + +"Once. I daren't look again. Who is she?" + +"God--a local deity then. Anyway, she's another of the things +you're expected to know by instinct." + +Mrs. Cloke, shocked at their levity, told them that it was Lady +Conant, wife of Sir Walter Conant, Baronet, a large landholder in +the neighbourhood; and if not God; at least His visible +Providence. George made her talk of that family for an hour. + +"Laughter," said Sophie afterward in their own room, "is the mark +of the savage. Why couldn't you control your emotions? It's all +real to her." + +"It's all real to me. That's my trouble," he answered in an +altered tone. "Anyway, it's real enough to mark time with. Don't +you think so?" + +"What d'you mean?" she asked quickly, though she knew his voice. + +"That I'm better. I'm well enough to kick." + +"What at?" + +"This!" He waved his hand round the one room. "I must have +something to play with till I'm fit for work again." + +"Ah!" She sat on the bed and leaned forward, her hands clasped. +"I wonder if it's good for you." + +"We've been better here than anywhere," he went on slowly. "One +could always sell it again." + +She nodded gravely, but her eyes sparkled. + +"The only thing that worries me is what happened this morning. I +want to know how you feel about it. If it's on your nerves in the +least we can have the old farm at the back of the house pulled +down, or perhaps it has spoiled the notion for you?" + +"Pull it down?" she cried. "You've no business faculty. Why, +that's where we could live while we're putting the big house in +order. It's almost under the same roof. No! What happened this +morning seemed to be more of a--of a leading than anything else. +There ought to be people at Pardons. Lady Conant's quite right." + +"I was thinking more of the woods and the roads. I could double +the value of the place in six months." + +"What do they want for it?" She shook her head, and her loosened +hair fell glowingly about her cheeks. + +"Seventy-five thousand dollars. They'll take sixty-eight." + +"Less than half what we paid for our old yacht when we married. +And we didn't have a good time in her. You were--" + +"Well, I discovered I was too much of an American to be content +to be a rich man's son. You aren't blaming me for that?" + +"Oh, no. Only it was a very businesslike honeymoon. How far are +you along with the deal, George?" + +"I can mail the deposit on the purchase money to-morrow morning, +and we can have the thing completed in a fortnight or three +weeks--if you say so." + +"Friars Pardon--Friars Pardon!" Sophie chanted rapturously, her +dark gray eyes big with delight. "All the farms? Gale Anstey, +Burnt House, Rocketts, the Home Farm, and Griffons? Sure you've +got 'em all?" + +"Sure." He smiled. + +"And the woods? High Pardons Wood, Lower Pardons, Suttons, +Dutton's Shaw, Reuben's Ghyll, Maxey's Ghyll, and both the Oak +Hangers? Sure you've got 'em all?" + +"Every last stick. Why, you know them as well as I do." He +laughed. "They say there's five thousand--a thousand pounds' +worth of lumber--timber they call it--in the Hangers alone." + +"Mrs. Cloke's oven must be mended first thing, and the kitchen +roof. I think I'll have all this whitewashed," Sophie broke in, +pointing to the ceiling. "The whole place is a scandal. Lady +Conant is quite right. George, when did you begin to fall in love +with the house? In the greenroom that first day? I did." + +"I'm not in love with it. One must do something to mark time till +one's fit for work." + +"Or when we stood under the oaks, and the door opened? Oh! Ought +I to go to poor Iggulden's funeral?" She sighed with utter +happiness. + +"Wouldn't they call it a liberty now?" said he. + +"But I liked him." + +"But you didn't own him at the date of his death." + +"That wouldn't keep me away. Only, they made such a fuss about +the watching"--she caught her breath--"it might be ostentatious +from that point of view, too. Oh, George"--she reached for his +hand--"we're two little orphans moving in worlds not realized, +and we shall make some bad breaks. But we're going to have the +time of our lives." + +"We'll run up to London to-morrow, and see if we can hurry those +English law solicitors. I want to get to work." + +They went. They suffered many things ere they returned across the +fields in a fly one Saturday night, nursing a two by +two-and-a-half box of deeds and maps--lawful owners of Friars +Pardon and the five decayed farms therewith. + +"I do most sincerely 'ope and trust you'll be 'appy, Madam," Mrs. +Cloke gasped, when she was told the news by the kitchen fire. + +"Goodness! It isn't a marriage!" Sophie exclaimed, a little awed; +for to them the joke, which to an American means work, was only +just beginning. + +"If it's took in a proper spirit"--Mrs. Cloke's eye turned toward +her oven. + +"Send and have that mended to-morrow," Sophie whispered. + +"We couldn't 'elp noticing," said Cloke slowly, "from the times +you walked there, that you an' your lady was drawn to it, +but--but I don't know as we ever precisely thought--" His wife's +glance checked him. + +"That we were that sort of people," said George. "We aren't sure +of it ourselves yet." + +"Perhaps," said Cloke, rubbing his knees, "just for the sake of +saying something, perhaps you'll park it?" + +"What's that?" said George. + +"Turn it all into a fine park like Violet Hill"--he jerked a +thumb to westward--"that Mr. Sangres bought. It was four farms, +and Mr. Sangres made a fine park of them, with a herd of faller +deer." + +"Then it wouldn't be Friars Pardon," said Sophie. "Would it?" + +"I don't know as I've ever heard Pardons was ever anything but +wheat an' wool. Only some gentlemen say that parks are less +trouble than tenants." He laughed nervously. "But the gentry, o' +course, they keep on pretty much as they was used to." + +"I see," said Sophie. "How did Mr. Sangres make his money?" + +"I never rightly heard. It was pepper an' spices, or it may ha' +been gloves. No. Gloves was Sir Reginald Liss at Marley End. +Spices was Mr. Sangres. He's a Brazilian gentleman--very sunburnt +like." + +"Be sure o' one thing. You won't 'ave any trouble," said Mrs. +Cloke, just before they went to bed. + +Now the news of the purchase was told to Mr. and Mrs. Cloke alone +at 8 P.M. of a Saturday. None left the farm till they set out for +church next morning. Yet when they reached the church and were +about to slip aside into their usual seats, a little beyond the +font, where they could see the red-furred tails of the bellropes +waggle and twist at ringing time, they were swept forward +irresistibly, a Cloke on either flank (and yet they had not +walked with the Clokes), upon the ever-retiring bosom of a +black-gowned verger, who ushered them into a room of a pew at the +head of the left aisle, under the pulpit. + +"This," he sighed reproachfully, "is the Pardons' Pew," and shut +them in. + +They could see little more than the choir boys in the chancel, +but to the roots of the hair of their necks they felt the +congregation behind mercilessly devouring them by look. + +"When the wicked man turneth away." The strong, alien voice of +the priest vibrated under the hammer-beam roof, and a loneliness +unfelt before swamped their hearts, as they searched for places +in the unfamiliar Church of England service. The Lord's Prayer +"Our Father, which art"--set the seal on that desolation. Sophie +found herself thinking how in other lands their purchase would +long ere this have been discussed from every point of view in a +dozen prints, forgetting that George for months had not been +allowed to glance at those black and bellowing head-lines. Here +was nothing but silence--not even hostility! The game was up to +them; the other players hid their cards and waited. Suspense, she +felt, was in the air, and when her sight cleared, saw, indeed, a +mural tablet of a footless bird brooding upon the carven motto, " +Wayte awhyle--wayte awhyle." + +At the Litany George had trouble with an unstable hassock, and +drew the slip of carpet under the pewseat. Sophie pushed her end +back also, and shut her eyes against a burning that felt like +tears. When she opened them she was looking at her mother's +maiden name, fairly carved on a blue flagstone on the pew floor: +Ellen Lashmar. ob. 1796. aetat 27. + +She nudged George and pointed. Sheltered, as they kneeled, they +looked for more knowledge, but the rest of the slab was blank. + +"Ever hear of her?" he whispered. + +"Never knew any of us came from here." + +"Coincidence?" + +"Perhaps. But it makes me feel better," and she smiled and winked +away a tear on her lashes, and took his hand while they prayed +for "all women labouring of child"--not "in the perils of +childbirth"; and the sparrows who had found their way through the +guards behind the glass windows chirped above the faded gilt and +alabaster family tree of the Conants. + +The baronet's pew was on the right of the aisle. After service +its inhabitants moved forth without haste, but so as to block +effectively a dusky person with a large family who champed in +their rear. + +"Spices, I think," said Sophie, deeply delighted as the Sangres +closed up after the Conants. "Let 'em get away, George." + +But when they came out many folk whose eyes were one still +lingered by the lychgate. + +"I want to see if any more Lashmars are buried here," said +Sophie. + +"Not now. This seems to be show day. Come home quickly," he +replied. + +A group of families, the Clokes a little apart, opened to let +them through. The men saluted with jerky nods, the women with +remnants of a curtsey. Only Iggulden's son, his mother on his +arm, lifted his hat as Sophie passed. + +"Your people," said the clear voice of Lady Conant in her ear. + +"I suppose so," said Sophie, blushing, for they were within two +yards of her; but it was not a question. + +"Then that child looks as if it were coming down with mumps. You +ought to tell the mother she shouldn't have brought it to +church." + +"I can't leave 'er behind, my lady," the woman said. "She'd set +the 'ouse afire in a minute, she's that forward with the matches. +Ain't you, Maudie dear?" + +"Has Dr. Dallas seen her?" + +"Not yet, my lady." + +"He must. You can't get away, of course. M-m! My idiotic maid is +coming in for her teeth to-morrow at twelve. She shall pick her +up--at Gale Anstey, isn't it?--at eleven." + +"Yes. Thank you very much, my lady." + +"I oughtn't to have done it," said Lady Conant apologetically, +"but there has been no one at Pardons for so long that you'll +forgive my poaching. Now, can't you lunch with us? The vicar +usually comes too. I don't use the horses on a Sunday"--she +glanced at the Brazilian's silver-plated chariot. "It's only a +mile across the fields." + +"You--you're very kind," said Sophie, hating herself because her +lip trembled. + +"My dear," the compelling tone dropped to a soothing gurgle, +"d'you suppose I don't know how it feels to come to a strange +county--country I should say--away from one's own people? When I +first left the Shires--I'm Shropshire, you know--I cried for a +day and a night. But fretting doesn't make loneliness any better. +Oh, here's Dora. She did sprain her leg that day." + +"I'm as lame as a tree still," said the tall maiden frankly. "You +ought to go out with the otter-hounds, Mrs. Chapin. I believe +they're drawing your water next week." + +Sir Walter had already led off George, and the vicar came up on +the other side of Sophie. There was no escaping the swift +procession or the leisurely lunch, where talk came and went in +low-voiced eddies that had the village for their centre. Sophie +heard the vicar and Sir Walter address her husband lightly as +Chapin! (She also remembered many women known in a previous life +who habitually addressed their husbands as Mr. Such-an-one.) +After lunch Lady Conant talked to her explicitly of maternity as +that is achieved in cottages and farm-houses remote from aid, and +of the duty thereto of the mistress of Pardons. + +A gate in a beech hedge, reached across triple lawns, let them +out before tea-time into the unkempt south side of their land. + +"I want your hand, please," said Sophie as soon as they were safe +among the beech boles and the lawless hollies. "D'you remember +the old maid in 'Providence and the Guitar' who heard the +Commissary swear, and hardly reckoned herself a maiden lady +afterward? Because I'm a relative of hers. Lady Conant is--" + +"Did you find out anything about the Lashmars?" he interrupted. + +"I didn't ask. I'm going to write to Aunt Sydney about it first. +Oh, Lady Conant said something at lunch about their having bought +some land from some Lashmars a few years ago. I found it was at +the beginning of last century." + +"What did you say?" + +"I said, 'Really, how interesting!' Like that. I'm not going to +push myself forward. I've been hearing about Mr. Sangres's +efforts in that direction. And you? I couldn't see you behind the +flowers. Was it very deep water, dear?" + +George mopped a brow already browned by outdoor exposures. + +"Oh no--dead easy," he answered. "I've bought Friars Pardon to +prevent Sir Walter's birds straying." + +A cock pheasant scuttered through the dry leaves and exploded +almost under their feet. Sophie jumped. + +"That's one of 'em," said George calmly. + +"Well, your nerves are better, at any rate," said she. "Did you +tell 'em you'd bought the thing to play with?" + +"No. That was where my nerve broke down. I only made one bad +break--I think. I said I couldn't see why hiring land to men to +farm wasn't as much a business proposition as anything else." + +"And what did they say?" + +"They smiled. I shall know what that smile means some day. They +don't waste their smiles. D'you see that track by Gale Anstey?" + +They looked down from the edge of the hanger over a cup-like +hollow. People by twos and threes in their Sunday best filed +slowly along the paths that connected farm to farm. + +"I've never seen so many on our land before," said Sophie. "Why +is it?" + +"To show us we mustn't shut up their rights of way." + +"Those cow-tracks we've been using cross lots?" said Sophie +forcibly. + +"Yes. Any one of 'em would cost us two thousand pounds each in +legal expenses to close." + +"But we don't want to," she said. + +"The whole community would fight if we did." + +"But it's our land. We can do what we like." + +"It's not our land. We've only paid for it. We belong to it, and +it belongs to the people--our people they call 'em. I've been to +lunch with the English too." + +They passed slowly from one bracken-dotted field to the +next--flushed with pride of ownership, plotting alterations and +restorations at each turn; halting in their tracks to argue, +spreading apart to embrace two views at once, or closing in to +consider one. Couples moved out of their way, but smiling +covertly. + +"We shall make some bad breaks," he said at last. + +"Together, though. You won't let anyone else in, will you?" + +"Except the contractors. This syndicate handles, this proposition +by its little lone." + +"But you might feel the want of some one," she insisted. + +"I shall--but it will be you. It's business, Sophie, but it's +going to be good fun." + +"Please God," she answered flushing, and cried to herself as they +went back to tea. "It's worth it. Oh, it's worth it." + +The repairing and moving into Friars Pardon was business of the +most varied and searching, but all done English fashion, without +friction. Time and money alone were asked. The rest lay in the +hands of beneficent advisers from London, or spirits, male and +female, called up by Mr. and Mrs. Cloke from the wastes of the +farms. In the centre stood George and Sophie, a little aghast, +their interests reaching out on every side. + +"I ain't sayin' anything against Londoners," said Cloke, +self-appointed clerk of the outer works, consulting engineer, +head of the immigration bureau, and superintendent of woods and +forests; "but your own people won't go about to make more than a +fair profit out of you." + +"How is one to know?" said George. + +"Five years from now, or so on, maybe, you'll be lookin' over +your first year's accounts, and, knowin' what you'll know then, +you'll say: 'Well, Billy Beartup'--or Old Cloke as it might +be--'did me proper when I was new.' No man likes to have that +sort of thing laid up against him." + +"I think I see," said George. "But five years is a long time to +look ahead." + +"I doubt if that oak Billy Beartup throwed in Reuben's Ghyll will +be fit for her drawin-room floor in less than seven," Cloke +drawled. + +"Yes, that's my work," said Sophie. (Billy Beartup of Griffons, a +woodman by training and birth, a tenant farmer by misfortune of +marriage, had laid his broad axe at her feet a month before.) +"Sorry if I've committed you to another eternity." + +"And we shan't even know where we've gone wrong with your new +carriage drive before that time either," said Cloke, ever anxious +to keep the balance true with an ounce or two in Sophie's favour. +The past four months had taught George better than to reply. The +carriage road winding up the hill was his present keen interest. +They set off to look at it, and the imported American scraper +which had blighted the none too sunny soul of "Skim" Winsh, the +carter. + +But young Iggulden was in charge now, and under his guidance, +Buller and Roberts, the great horses, moved mountains. + +"You lif' her like that, an' you tip her like that," he explained +to the gang. "My uncle he was roadmaster in Connecticut." + +"Are they roads yonder?" said Skim, sitting under the laurels. + +"No better than accommodation roads. Dirt, they call 'em. They'd +suit you, Skim." + +"Why?" said the incautious Skim. + +"Cause you'd take no hurt when you fall out of your cart drunk on +a Saturday," was the answer. + +"I didn't last time neither," Skim roared. + +After the loud laugh, old Whybarne of Gale Anstey piped feebly, +"Well, dirt or no dirt, there's no denyin' Chapin knows a good +job when he sees it. 'E don't build one day and dee-stroy the +next, like that nigger Sangres." + +"SHE's the one that knows her own mind," said Pinky, brother to +Skim Winsh, and a Napoleon among carters who had helped to bring +the grand piano across the fields in the autumn rains. + +"She had ought to," said Iggulden. "Whoa, Buller! She's a +Lashmar. They never was double-thinking." + +"Oh, you found that? Has the answer come from your uncle?" said +Skim, doubtful whether so remote a land as America had posts. + +The others looked at him scornfully. Skim was always a day behind +the fair. Iggulden rested from his labours. "She's a Lashmar +right enough. I started up to write to my uncle--at once--the +month after she said her folks came from Veering Holler." + +"Where there ain't any roads?" Skim interrupted, but none +laughed. + +"My uncle he married an American woman for his second, and she +took it up like a like the coroner. She's a Lashmar out of the +old Lashmar place, 'fore they sold to Conants. She ain't no Toot +Hill Lashmar, nor any o' the Crayford lot. Her folk come out of +the ground here, neither chalk nor forest, but wildishers. They +sailed over to America--I've got it all writ down by my uncle's +woman--in eighteen hundred an' nothing. My uncle says they're all +slow begetters like." + +"Would they be gentry yonder now?" Skim asked. + +"Nah--there's no gentry in America, no matter how long you're +there. It's against their law. There's only rich and poor +allowed. They've been lawyers and such like over yonder for a +hundred years but she's a Lashmar for all that." + +"Lord! What's a hundred years?" said Whybarne, who had seen +seventy-eight of them. + +"An' they write too, from yonder--my uncle's woman writes--that +you can still tell 'em by headmark. Their hair's foxy-red +still--an' they throw out when they walk. He's in-toed-treads +like a gipsy; but you watch, an' you'll see 'er throw, out--like +a colt." + +"Your trace wants taking up." Pinky's large ears had caught the +sound of voices, and as the two broke through the laurels the men +were hard at work, their eyes on Sophie's feet. + +She had been less fortunate in her inquiries than Iggulden, for +her Aunt Sydney of Meriden (a badged and certificated Daughter of +the Revolution to boot) answered her inquiries with a two-paged +discourse on patriotism, the leaflets of a Village Improvement +Society, of which she was president, and a demand for an overdue +subscription to a Factory Girls' Reading Circle. Sophie burned it +all in the Orpheus and Eurydice grate, and kept her own counsel. + +"What I want to know," said George, when Spring was coming, and +the gardens needed thought. "is who will ever pay me for my +labour? I've put in at least half a million dollars' worth +already." + +"Sure you're not taking too much out of yourself?" his wife +asked. + +"Oh, no; I haven't been conscious of myself all winter." He +looked at his brown English gaiters and smiled. "It's all behind +me now. I believe I could sit down and think of all that--those +months before we sailed." + +"Don't--ah, don't!" she cried. + +"But I must go back one day. You don't want to keep me out of +business always--or do you?" He ended with a nervous laugh. + +Sophie sighed as she drew her own ground-ash (of old Iggulden's +cutting) from the hall rack. + +"Aren't you overdoing it too? You look a little tired," he said. + +"You make me tired. I'm going to Rocketts to see Mrs. Cloke about +Mary." (This was the sister of the telegraphist, promoted to be +sewing-maid at Pardons.) "Coming?" + +"I'm due at Burnt House to see about the new well. By the way, +there's a sore throat at Gale Anstey--" + +"That's my province. Don't interfere. The Whybarne children +always have sore throats. They do it for jujubes." + +"Keep away from Gale Anstey till I make sure, honey. Cloke ought +to have told me." + +"These people don't tell. Haven't you learnt that yet? But I'll +obey, me lord. See you later!" + +She set off afoot, for within the three main roads that bounded +the blunt triangle of the estate (even by night one could +scarcely hear the carts on them), wheels were not used except for +farm work. The footpaths served all other purposes. And though at +first they had planned improvements, they had soon fallen in with +the customs of their hidden kingdom, and moved about the +soft-footed ways by woodland, hedgerow, and shaw as freely as the +rabbits. Indeed, for the most part Sophie walked bareheaded +beneath her helmet of chestnut hair; but she had been plagued of +late by vague toothaches, which she explained to Mrs. Cloke, who +asked some questions. How it came about Sophie never knew, but +after a while behold Mrs. Cloke's arm was about her waist, and +her head was on that deep bosom behind the shut kitchen door. + +"My dear! My dear!" the elder woman almost sobbed. "An' d'you +mean to tell me you never suspicioned? Why--why--where was you +ever taught anything at all? Of course it is. It's what we've +been only waitin' for, all of us. Time and again I've said to +Lady--" she checked herself. "An' now we shall be as we should +be." + +"But--but--but--" Sophie whimpered. + +"An' to see you buildin' your nest so busy--pianos and books--an' +never thinkin' of a nursery!" + +"No more I did." Sophie sat bolt upright, and began to laugh. + +"Time enough yet." The fingers tapped thoughtfully on the broad +knee. "But--they must be strange-minded folk over yonder with +you! Have you thought to send for your mother? She dead? My dear, +my dear! Never mind! She'll be happy where she knows. 'Tis God's +work. An' we was only waitin' for it, for you've never failed in +your duty yet. It ain't your way. What did you say about my +Mary's doings?" Mrs. Cloke's face hardened as she pressed her +chin on Sophie's forehead. "If any of your girls thinks to be'ave +arbitrary now, I'll--But they won't, my dear. I'll see they do +their duty too. Be sure you'll 'ave no trouble." + +When Sophie walked back across the fields heaven and earth +changed about her as on the day of old Iggulden's death. For an +instant she thought of the wide turn of the staircase, and the +new ivory-white paint that no coffin corner could scar, but +presently, the shadow passed in a pure wonder and bewilderment +that made her reel. She leaned against one of their new gates and +looked over their lands for some other stay. + +"Well," she said resignedly, half aloud, "we must try to make him +feel that he isn't a third in our party," and turned the corner +that looked over Friars Pardon, giddy, sick, and faint. + +Of a sudden the house they had bought for a whim stood up as she +had never seen it before, low-fronted, broad-winged, ample, +prepared by course of generations for all such things. As it had +steadied her when it lay desolate, so now that it had meaning +from their few months of life within, it soothed and promised +good. She went alone and quickly into the hall, and kissed either +door-post, whispering: "Be good to me. You know! You've never +failed in your duty yet." + +When the matter was explained to George, he would have sailed at +once to their own land, but this Sophie forbade. + +"I don't want science," she said. "I just want to be loved, and +there isn't time for that at home. Besides," she added, looking +out of the window, "it would be desertion." + +George was forced to soothe himself with linking Friars Pardon to +the telegraph system of Great Britain by +telephone--three-quarters of a mile of poles, put in by Whybarne +and a few friends. One of these was a foreigner from the next +parish. Said he when the line was being run: "There's an old +ellum right in our road. Shall us throw her?" + +"Toot Hill parish folk, neither grace nor good luck, God help +'em." Old Whybarne shouted the local proverb from three poles +down the line. "We ain't goin' to lay any axe-iron to coffin-wood +here not till we know where we are yet awhile. Swing round 'er, +swing round!" + +To this day, then, that sudden kink in the straight line across +the upper pasture remains a mystery to Sophie and George. Nor can +they tell why Skim Winsh, who came to his cottage under Dutton +Shaw most musically drunk at 10.45 P.M of every Saturday night, +as his father had done before him, sang no more at the bottom of +the garden steps, where Sophie always feared he would break his +neck. The path was undoubtedly an ancient right of way, and at +10.45 P.M. on Saturdays Skim remembered it was his duty to +posterity to keep it open--till Mrs. Cloke spoke to him once. She +spoke likewise to her daughter Mary, sewing maid at Pardons, and +to Mary's best new friend, the five-foot-seven imported London +house-maid, who taught Mary to trim hats, and found the country +dullish. + +But there was no noise--at no time was there any noise--and when +Sophie walked abroad she met no one in her path unless she had +signified a wish that way. Then they appeared to protest that all +was well with them and their children, their chickens, their +roofs, their water-supply, and their sons in the police or the +railway service. + +"But don't you find it dull, dear?" said George, loyally doing +his best not to worry as the months went by. + +"I've been so busy putting my house in order I haven't had time +to think," said she. "Do you?" + +"No--no. If I could only be sure of you." + +She turned on the green drawing-room's couch (it was Empire, not +Heppelwhite after all), and laid aside a list of linen and +blankets. + +"It has changed everything, hasn't it?" she whispered. + +"Oh, Lord, yes. But I still think if we went back to Baltimore " + +"And missed our first real summer together. No thank you, me +lord." + +"But we're absolutely alone." + +"Isn't that what I'm doing my best to remedy? Don't you worry. I +like it--like it to the marrow of my little bones. You don't +realize what her house means to a woman. We thought we were +living in it last year, but we hadn't begun to. Don't you rejoice +in your study, George?" + +"I prefer being here with you." He sat down on the floor by the +couch and took her hand. + +"Seven," she said, as the French clock struck. "Year before last +you'd just be coming back from business." + +He winced at the recollection, then laughed. "Business! I've been +at work ten solid hours to-day." + +"Where did you lunch? With the Conants?" + +"No; at Dutton Shaw, sitting on a log, with my feet in a swamp. +But we've found out where the old spring is, and we're going to +pipe it down to Gale Anstey next year." + +"I'll come and see to-morrow. Oh, please open the door, dear. I +want to look down the passage. Isn't that corner by the +stair-head lovely where the sun strikes in?" She looked through +half-closed eyes at the vista of ivory-white and pale green all +steeped in liquid gold. + +"There's a step out of Jane Elphick's bedroom," she went on--"and +his first step in the world ought to be up. I shouldn't wonder if +those people hadn't put it there on purpose. George, will it make +any odds to you if he's a girl?" + +He answered, as he had many times before, that his interest was +his wife, not the child. + +"Then you're the only person who thinks so." She laughed. "Don't +be silly, dear. It's expected. I know. It's my duty. I shan't be +able to look our people in the face if I fail." + +"What concern is it of theirs, confound 'em!" + +"You'll see. Luckily the tradition of the house is boys, Mrs. +Cloke says, so I'm provided for. Shall you ever begin to +understand these people? I shan't." + +"And we bought it for fun--for fun!" he groaned. "And here we are +held up for goodness knows bow long!" + +"Why? Were you thinking of selling it?" He did not answer. "Do +you remember the second Mrs. Chapin?" she demanded. + +This was a bold, brazen little black-browed woman--a widow for +choice--who on Sophie's death was guilefully to marry George for +his wealth and ruin him in a year. George being busy, Sophie had +invented her some two years after her marriage, and conceived she +was alone among wives in so doing. + +"You aren't going to bring her up again?" he asked anxiously. + +"I only want to say that I should hate any one who bought Pardons +ten times worse than I used to hate the second Mrs. Chapin. Think +what we've put into it of our two selves." + +"At least a couple of million dollars. I know I could have +made--" He broke off. + +"The beasts!" she went on. "They'd be sure to build a red-brick +lodge at the gates, and cut the lawn up for bedding out. You must +leave instructions in your will that he's never to do that, +George, won't you?" + +He laughed and took her hand again but said nothing till it was +time to dress. Then he muttered "What the devil use is a man's +country to him when he can't do business in it?" + +Friars Pardon stood faithful to its tradition. At the appointed +time was born, not that third in their party to whom Sophie meant +to be so kind, but a godling; in beauty, it was manifest, +excelling Eros, as in wisdom Confucius; an enhancer of delights, +a renewer of companionships and an interpreter of Destiny. This +last George did not realise till he met Lady Conant striding +through Dutton Shaw a few days after the event. + +"My dear fellow," she cried, and slapped him heartily on the +back, "I can't tell you how glad we all are. Oh, she'll be all +right. (There's never been any trouble over the birth of an heir +at Pardons.) Now where the dooce is it?" She felt largely in her +leather-boundskirt and drew out a small silver mug. "I sent a +note to your wife about it, but my silly ass of a groom forgot to +take this. You can save me a tramp. Give her my love." She +marched off amid her guard of grave Airedales. + +The mug was worn and dented: above the twined initials, G.L., was +the crest of a footless bird and the motto: " Wayte awhyle--wayte +awhyle." + +"That's the other end of the riddle," Sophie whispered, when he +saw her that evening. "Read her note. The English write beautiful +notes." + +The warmest of welcomes to your little man. I hope he will +appreciate his native land now he has come to it. Though you have +said nothing we cannot, of course, look on him as a little +stranger, and so I am sending him the old Lashmar christening +mug. It has been with us since Gregory Lashmar, your +great-grandmother's brother-- + + +George stared at his wife. + +"Go on," she twinkled, from the pillows. + +--mother's brother, sold his place to Walter's family. We seem to +have acquired some of your household gods at that time, but +nothing survives except the mug and the old cradle, which I found +in the potting-shed and am having put in order for you. I hope +little George--Lashmar, he will be too, won't he?--will live to +see his grandchildren cut their teeth on his mug. + + Affectionately yours, + ALICE CONANT. + +P.S.--How quiet you've kept about it all! + +"Well, I'm--" + +"Don't swear," said Sophie. "Bad for the infant mind." + +"But how in the world did she get at it? Have you ever said a +word about the Lashmars?" + +"You know the only time--to young Iggulden at Rocketts--when +Iggulden died." + +"Your great-grandmother's brother! She's traced the whole +connection--more than your Aunt Sydney could do. What does she +mean about our keeping quiet?" + +Sophie's eyes sparkled. "I've thought that out too. We've got +back at the English at last. Can't you see that she thought that +we thought my mother's being a Lashmar was one of those things +we'd expect the English to find out for themselves, and that's +impressed her?" She turned the mug in her white hands, and sighed +happily. "'Wayte awhyle--wayte awhyle.' That's not a bad motto, +George. It's been worth it." + +"But still I don't quite see--" + +"I shouldn't wonder if they don't think our coming here was part +of a deep-laid scheme to be near our ancestors. They'd understand +that. And look how they've accepted us, all of them." + +"Are we so undesirable in ourselves?" George grunted. + +"Be just, me lord. That wretched Sangres man has twice our money. +Can you see Marm Conant slapping him between the shoulders? Not +by a jugful! The poor beast doesn't exist!" + +"Do you think it's that then?" He looked toward the cot by the +fire where the godling snorted. + +"The minute I get well I shall find out from Mrs. Cloke what +every Lashmar gives in doles (that's nicer than tips) every time +a Lashmite is born. I've done my duty thus far, but there's much +expected of me." + +Entered here Mrs. Cloke, and hung worshipping over the cot. They +showed her the mug and her face shone. "Oh, now Lady Conant's +sent it, it'll be all proper, ma'am, won't it? 'George' of course +he'd have to be, but seein' what he is we was hopin'--all your +people was hopin'--it 'ud be 'Lashmar' too, and that'ud just +round it out. A very 'andsome mug quite unique, I should imagine. +'Wayte awhyle--wayte awhyle.' That's true with the Lashmars, I've +heard. Very slow to fill their houses, they are. Most like Master +George won't open 'is nursery till he's thirty." + +"Poor lamb!" cried Sophie. "But how did you know my folk were +Lashmars?" + +Mrs. Cloke thought deeply. "I'm sure I can't quite say, ma'am, +but I've a belief likely that it was something you may have let +drop to young Iggulden when you was at Rocketts. That may have +been what give us an inkling. An' so it came out, one thing in +the way o' talk leading to another, and those American people at +Veering Holler was very obligin' with news, I'm told, ma'am." + +"Great Scott!" said George, under his breath. "And this is the +simple peasant!" + +"Yiss," Mrs. Cloke went on. "An' Cloke was only wonderin' this +afternoon--your pillow's slipped my dear, you mustn't lie that +a-way--just for the sake o' sayin' something, whether you +wouldn't think well now of getting the Lashmar farms back, sir. +They don't rightly round off Sir Walter's estate. They come +caterin' across us more. Cloke, 'e 'ud be glad to show you over +any day." + +"But Sir Walter doesn't want to sell, does he?" + +"We can find out from his bailiff, sir, but"--with cold +contempt--"I think that trained nurse is just comin' up from her +dinner, so 'm afraid we'll 'ave to ask you, sir ... Now, Master +George--Ai-ie! Wake a litty minute, lammie!" + +A few months later the three of them were down at the brook in +the Gale Anstey woods to consider the rebuilding of a footbridge +carried away by spring floods. George Lashmar Chapin wanted all +the bluebells on God's earth that day to eat, and--Sophie adored +him in a voice like to the cooing of a dove; so business was +delayed. + +"Here's the place," said his father at last among the water +forget-me-nots. "But where the deuce are the larch-poles, Cloke? +I told you to have them down here ready." + +"We'll get 'em down if f you say so," Cloke answered, with a +thrust of the underlip they both knew. + +"But I did say so. What on earth have you brought that timber-tug +here for? We aren't building a railway bridge. Why, in America, +half-a-dozen two-by-four bits would be ample." + +"I don't know nothin' about that," said Cloke. + +"An' I've nothin' to say against larch--IF you want to make a +temp'ry job of it. I ain't 'ere to tell you what isn't so, sir; +an' you can't say I ever come creepin' up on you, or tryin' to +lead you further in than you set out--" + +A year ago George would have danced with impatience. Now he +scraped a little mud off his old gaiters with his spud, and +waited. + +"All I say is that you can put up larch and make a temp'ry job of +it; and by the time the young master's married it'll have to be +done again. Now, I've brought down a couple of as sweet +six-by-eight oak timbers as we've ever drawed. You put 'em in an' +it's off your mind or good an' all. T'other way--I don't say it +ain't right, I'm only just sayin' what I think--but t'other way, +he'll no sooner be married than we'll lave it all to do again. +You've no call to regard my words, but you can't get out of +that." + +"No," said George after a pause; "I've been realising that for +some time. Make it oak then; we can't get out of it." + + + + THE RECALL + + I am the land of their fathers, + In me the virtue stays; + I will bring back my children, + After certain days. + Under their feet in the grasses + My clinging magic runs. + They shall return as strangers, + They shall remain as sons. + Over their heads in the branches + Of their new-bought, ancient trees, + I weave an incantation, + And draw them to my knees. + Scent of smoke in the evening, + Smell of rain in the night, + The hours, the days and the seasons + Order their souls aright; + Till I make plain the meaning + Of all my thousand years + Till I fill their hearts with knowledge, + While I fill their eyes with tears. + + + +GARM--A HOSTAGE + +0ne night, a very long time ago, I drove to an Indian military +cantonment called Mian Mir to see amateur theatricals. At the +back of the Infantry barracks a soldier, his cap over one eye, +rushed in front of the horses and shouted that he was a dangerous +highway robber. As a matter of fact, he was a friend of mine, so +I told him to go home before any one caught him; but he fell +under the pole, and I heard voices of a military guard in search +of some one. + +The driver and I coaxed him into the carriage, drove home +swiftly, undressed him and put him to bed, where he waked next +morning with a sore headache, very much ashamed. When his uniform +was cleaned and dried, and he had been shaved and washed and made +neat, I drove him back to barracks with his arm in a fine white +sling, and reported that I had accidentally run over him. I did +not tell this story to my friend's sergeant, who was a hostile +and unbelieving person, but to his lieutenant, who did not know +us quite so well. + +Three days later my friend came to call, and at his heels +slobbered and fawned one of the finest bull-terriers--of the +old-fashioned breed, two parts bull and one terrier--that I had +ever set eyes on. He was pure white, with a fawn-coloured saddle +just behind his neck, and a fawn diamond at the root of his thin +whippy tail. I had admired him distantly for more than a year; +and Vixen, my own fox-terrier, knew him too, but did not approve. + +"'E's for you," said my friend; but he did not look as though he +liked parting with him. + +"Nonsense! That dog's worth more than most men, Stanley," I said. + +"'E's that and more. 'Tention!" + +The dog rose on his hind legs, and stood upright for a full +minute. + +"Eyes right!" + +He sat on his haunches and turned his head sharp to the right. At +a sign he rose and barked thrice. Then he shook hands with his +right paw and bounded lightly to my shoulder. Here he made +himself into a necktie, limp and lifeless, hanging down on either +side of my neck. I was told to pick him up and throw him in the +air. He fell with a howl, and held up one leg. + +"Part o' the trick," said his owner. "You're going to die now. +Dig yourself your little grave an' shut your little eye." + +Still limping, the dog hobbled to the garden-edge, dug a hole and +lay down in it. When told that he was cured, he jumped out, +wagging his tail, and whining for applause. He was put through +half-a-dozen other tricks, such as showing how he would hold a +man safe (I was that man, and he sat down before me, his teeth +bared, ready to spring), and how he would stop eating at the word +of command. I had no more than finished praising him when my +friend made a gesture that stopped the dog as though he had been +shot, took a piece of blue-ruled canteen-paper from his helmet, +handed it to me and ran away, while the dog looked after him and +howled. I read: + +SIR--I give you the dog because of what you got me out of. He is +the best I know, for I made him myself, and he is as good as a +man. Please do not give him too much to eat, and please do not +give him back to me, for I'm not going to take him, if you will +keep him. So please do not try to give him back any more. I have +kept his name back, so you can call him anything and he will +answer. but please do not give him back. He can kill a man as +easy as anything, but please do not give him too much meat. He +knows more than a man. + +Vixen sympathetically joined her shrill little yap to the +bull-terrier's despairing cry, and I was annoyed, for I knew that +a man who cares for dogs is one thing, but a man who loves one +dog is quite another. Dogs are at the best no more than verminous +vagrants, self-scratchers, foul feeders, and unclean by the law +of Moses and Mohammed; but a dog with whom one lives alone for at +least six months in the year; a free thing, tied to you so +strictly by love that without you he will not stir or exercise; a +patient, temperate, humorous, wise soul, who knows your moods +before you know them yourself, is not a dog under any ruling. + +I had Vixen, who was all my dog to me; and I felt what my friend +must have felt, at tearing out his heart in this style and +leaving it in my garden. However, the dog understood clearly +enough that I was his master, and did not follow the soldier. As +soon as he drew breath I made much of him, and Vixen, yelling +with jealousy, flew at him. Had she been of his own sex, he might +have cheered himself with a fight, but he only looked worriedly +when she nipped his deep iron sides, laid his heavy head on my +knee, and howled anew. I meant to dine at the Club that night; +but as darkness drew in, and the dog snuffed through the empty +house like a child trying to recover from a fit of sobbing, I +felt that I could not leave him to suffer his first evening +alone. So we fed at home, Vixen on one side, and the stranger-dog +on the other; she watching his every mouthful, and saying +explicitly what she thought of his table manners, which were much +better than hers. + +It was Vixen's custom, till the weather grew hot, to sleep in my +bed, her head on the pillow like a Christian; and when morning +came I would always find that the little thing had braced her +feet against the wall and pushed me to the very edge of the cot. +This night she hurried to bed purposefully, every hair up, one +eye on the stranger, who had dropped on a mat in a helpless, +hopeless sort of way, all four feet spread out, sighing heavily. +She settled her head on the pillow several times, to show her +little airs and graces, and struck up her usual whiney sing-song +before slumber. The stranger-dog softly edged toward me. I put +out my hand and he licked it. Instantly my wrist was between +Vixen's teeth, and her warning aaarh! said as plainly as speech, +that if I took any further notice of the stranger she would bite. + +I caught her behind her fat neck with my left hand, shook her +severely, and said: + +"Vixen, if you do that again you'll be put into the verandah. +Now, remember!" + +She understood perfectly, but the minute I released her she +mouthed my right wrist once more, and waited with her ears back +and all her body flattened, ready to bite. The big dog's tail +thumped the floor in a humble and peace-making way. + +I grabbed Vixen a second time, lifted her out of bed like a +rabbit (she hated that and yelled), and, as I had promised, set +her out in the verandah with the bats and the moonlight. At this +she howled. Then she used coarse language--not to me, but to the +bullterrier--till she coughed with exhaustion. Then she ran round +the house trying every door. Then she went off to the stables and +barked as though some one were stealing the horses, which was an +old trick of hers. Last she returned, and her snuffing yelp said, +"I'll be good! Let me in and I'll' be good!" + +She was admitted and flew to her pillow. When she was quieted I +whispered to the other dog, "You can lie on the foot of the bed." +The bull jumped up at once, and though I felt Vixen quiver with +rage, she knew better than to protest. So we slept till the +morning, and they had early breakfast with me, bite for bite, +till the horse came round and we went for a ride. I don't think +the bull had ever followed a horse before. He was wild with +excitement, and Vixen, as usual, squealed and scuttered and +scooted, and took charge of the procession. + +There was one corner of a village near by, which we generally +passed with caution, because all the yellow pariah-dogs of the +place gathered about it. + +They were half-wild, starving beasts, and though utter cowards, +yet where nine or ten of them get together they will mob and kill +and eat an English dog. I kept a whip with a long lash for them. + +That morning they attacked Vixen, who, perhaps of design, had +moved from beyond my horse's shadow. + +The bull was ploughing along in the dust, fifty yards behind, +rolling in his run, and smiling as bull-terriers will. I heard +Vixen squeal; half a dozen of the curs closed in on her; a white +streak came up behind me; a cloud of dust rose near Vixen, and, +when it cleared, I saw one tall pariah with his back broken, and +the bull wrenching another to earth. Vixen retreated to the +protection of my whip, and the bull paddled back smiling more +than ever, covered with the blood of his enemies. That decided me +to call him "Garin of the Bloody Breast," who was a great person +in his time, or "Garm" for short; so, leaning forward, I told him +what his temporary name would be. He looked up while I repeated +it, and then raced away. I shouted "Garin!" He stopped, raced +back, and came up to ask my will. + +Then I saw that my soldier friend was right, and that that dog +knew and was worth more than a man. At the end of the ride I gave +an order which Vixen knew and hated: "Go away and get washed!" I +said. Garin understood some part of it, and Vixen interpreted the +rest, and the two trotted off together soberly. When I went to +the back verandah Vixen had been washed snowy-white, and was very +proud of herself, but the dog-boy would not touch Garm on any +account unless I stood by. So I waited while he was being +scrubbed, and Garm, with the soap creaming on the top of his +broad head, looked at me to make sure that this was what I +expected him to endure. He knew perfectly that the dog-boy was +only obeying orders. + +"Another time," I said to the dog-boy, "you will wash the great +dog with Vixen when I send them home." + +"Does he know?" said the dog-boy, who understood the ways of +dogs. + +"Garm," I said, "another time you will be washed with Vixen." + +I knew that Garm understood. Indeed, next washing-day, when Vixen +as usual fled under my bed, Garm stared at the doubtful dog-boy +in the verandah, stalked to the place where he had been washed +last time, and stood rigid in the tub. + +But the long days in my office tried him sorely. We three would +drive off in the morning at half-past eight and come home at six +or later. Vixen knowing the routine of it, went to sleep under my +table; but the confinement ate into Garm's soul. He generally sat +on the verandah looking out on the Mall; and well I knew what he +expected. + +Sometimes a company of soldiers would move along on their way to +the Fort, and Garm rolled forth to inspect them; or an officer in +uniform entered into the office, and it was pitiful to see poor +Garm's welcome to the cloth--not the man. He would leap at him, +and sniff and bark joyously, then run to the door and back again. +One afternoon I heard him bay with a full throat--a thing I had +never heard before--and he disappeared. When I drove into my +garden at the end of the day a soldier in white uniform scrambled +over the wall at the far end, and the Garm that met me was a +joyous dog. This happened twice or thrice a week for a month. + +I pretended not to notice, but Garm knew and Vixen knew. He would +glide homewards from the office about four o'clock, as though he +were only going to look at the scenery, and this he did so +quietly that but for Vixen I should not have noticed him. The +jealous little dog under the table would give a sniff and a +snort, just loud enough to call my attention to the flight. Garm +might go out forty times in the day and Vixen would never stir, +but when he slunk off to see his true master in my garden she +told me in her own tongue. That was the one sign she made to +prove that Garm did not altogether belong to the family. They +were the best of friends at all times, but, Vixen explained that +I was never to forget Garm did not love me as she loved me. + +I never expected it. The dog was not my dog could never be my +dog--and I knew he was as miserable as his master who tramped +eight miles a day to see him. So it seemed to me that the sooner +the two were reunited the better for all. One afternoon I sent +Vixen home alone in the dog-cart (Garm had gone before), and rode +over to cantonments to find another friend of mine, who was an +Irish soldier and a great friend of the dog's master. + +I explained the whole case, and wound up with: + +"And now Stanley's in my garden crying over his dog. Why doesn't +he take him back? They're both unhappy." + +"Unhappy! There's no sense in the little man any more. But 'tis +his fit." + +"What is his fit? He travels fifty miles a week to see the brute, +and he pretends not to notice me when he sees me on the road; and +I'm as unhappy as he is. Make him take the dog back." + +"It's his penance he's set himself. I told him by way of a joke, +afther you'd run over him so convenient that night, whin he was +drunk--I said if he was a Catholic he'd do penance. Off he went +wid that fit in his little head an' a dose of fever, an nothin' +would suit but givin' you the dog as a hostage." + +"Hostage for what? I don't want hostages from Stanley." + +"For his good behaviour. He's keepin' straight now, the way it's +no pleasure to associate wid him." + +"Has he taken the pledge?" + +"If 'twas only that I need not care. Ye can take the pledge for +three months on an' off. He sez he'll never see the dog again, +an' so mark you, he'll keep straight for evermore. Ye know his +fits? Well, this is wan of them. How's the dog takin' it ?" + +"Like a man. He's the best dog in India. Can't you make Stanley +take him back?" + +"I can do no more than I have done. But ye know his fits. He's +just doin' his penance. What will he do when he goes to the +Hills? The doctor's put him on the list." + +It is the custom in India to send a certain number of invalids +from each regiment up to stations in the Himalayas for the hot +weather; and though the men ought to enjoy the cool and the +comfort, they miss the society of the barracks down below, and do +their best to come back or to avoid going. I felt that this move +would bring matters to a head, so I left Terrence hopefully, +though he called after me "He won't take the dog, sorr. You can +lay your month's pay on that. Ye know his fits." + +I never pretended to understand Private Ortheris; and so I did +the next best thing I left him alone. + +That summer the invalids of the regiment to which my friend +belonged were ordered off to the Hills early, because the doctors +thought marching in the cool of the day would do them good. Their +route lay south to a place called Umballa, a hundred and twenty +miles or more. Then they would turn east and march up into the +hills to Kasauli or Dugshai or Subathoo. I dined with the +officers the night before they left--they were marching at five +in the morning. It was midnight when I drove into my garden, and +surprised a white figure flying over the wall. + +"That man," said my butler, "has been here since nine, making +talk to that dog. He is quite mad." + +I did not tell him to go away because he has been here many times +before, and because the dog-boy told me that if I told him to go +away, that great dog would immediately slay me. He did not wish +to speak to the Protector of the Poor, and he did not ask for +anything to eat or drink." + +"Kadir Buksh," said I, "that was well done, for the dog would +surely have killed thee. But I do not think the white soldier +will come any more." + +Garm slept ill that night and whimpered in his dreams. Once he +sprang up with a clear, ringing bark, and I heard him wag his +tail till it waked him and the bark died out in a howl. He had +dreamed he was with his master again, and I nearly cried. It was +all Stanley's silly fault. + +The first halt which the detachment of invalids made was some +miles from their barracks, on the Amritsar road, and ten miles +distant from my house. By a mere chance one of the officers drove +back for another good dinner at the Club (cooking on the line of +march is always bad), and there I met him. He was a particular +friend of mine, and I knew that he knew how to love a dog +properly. His pet was a big fat retriever who was going up to the +Hills for his health, and, though it was still April, the round, +brown brute puffed and panted in the Club verandah as though he +would burst. + +"It's amazing," said the officer, "what excuses these invalids of +mine make to get back to barracks. There's a man in my company +now asked me for leave to go back to cantonments to pay a debt +he'd forgotten. I was so taken by the idea I let him go, and he +jingled off in an ekka as pleased as Punch. Ten miles to pay a +debt! Wonder what it was really?" + +"If you'll drive me home I think I can show you," I said. + +So he went over to my house in his dog-cart with the retriever; +and on the way I told him the story of Garm. + +"I was wondering where that brute had gone to. He's the best dog +in the regiment," said my friend. "I offered the little fellow +twenty rupees for him a month ago. But he's a hostage, you say, +for Stanley's good conduct. Stanley's one of the best men I have +when he chooses." + +"That's the reason why," I said. "A second-rate man wouldn't have +taken things to heart as he has done." + +We drove in quietly at the far end of the garden, and crept round +the house. There was a place close to the wall all grown about +with tamarisk trees, where I knew Garm kept his bones. Even Vixen +was not allowed to sit near it. In the full Indian moonlight I +could see a white uniform bending over the dog. + +"Good-bye, old man," we could not help hearing Stanley's voice. +"For 'Eving's sake don't get bit and go mad by any measly pi-dog. +But you can look after yourself, old man. You don't get drunk an' +run about 'ittin' your friends. You takes your bones an' you eats +your biscuit, an' you kills your enemy like a gentleman. I'm +goin' away--don't 'owl--I'm goin' off to Kasauli, where I won't +see you no more." + +I could hear him holding Garm's nose as the dog threw it up to +the stars. + +"You'll stay here an' be'ave, an'--an' I'll go away an' try to +be'ave, an' I don't know 'ow to leave you. I don't know--" + +"I think this is damn silly," said the officer, patting his +foolish fubsy old retriever. He called to the private, who leaped +to his feet, marched forward, and saluted. + +"You here?" said the officer, turning away his head. + +"Yes, sir, but I'm just goin' back." + +"I shall be leaving here at eleven in my cart. You come with me. +I can't have sick men running about fall over the place. Report +yourself at eleven, here." + +We did not say much when we went indoors, but the officer +muttered and pulled his retriever's ears. + +He was a disgraceful, overfed doormat of a dog; and when he +waddled off to my cookhouse to be fed, I had a brilliant idea. + +At eleven o'clock that officer's dog was nowhere to be found, and +you never heard such a fuss as his owner made. He called and +shouted and grew angry, and hunted through my garden for half an +hour. + +Then I said: + +"He's sure to turn up in the morning. Send a man in by rail, and +I'll find the beast and return him." + +"Beast?" said the officer. "I value that dog considerably more +than I value any man I know. It's all very fine for you to +talk--your dog's here." + +So she was--under my feet--and, had she been missing, food and +wages would have stopped in my house till her return. But some +people grow fond of dogs not worth a cut of the whip. My friend +had to drive away at last with Stanley in the back seat; and then +the dog-boy said to me: + +"What kind of animal is Bullen Sahib's dog? Look at him!" + +I went to the boy's hut, and the fat old reprobate was lying on a +mat carefully chained up. He must have heard his master calling +for twenty minutes, but had not even attempted to join him. + +"He has no face," said the dog-boy scornfully. "He is a +punniar-kooter (a spaniel). He never tried to get that cloth off +his jaws when his master called. Now Vixen-baba would have jumped +through the window, and that Great Dog would have slain me with +his muzzled mouth. It is true that there are many kinds of dogs." + +Next evening who should turn up but Stanley. The officer had sent +him back fourteen miles by rail with a note begging me to return +the retriever if I had found him, and, if I had not, to offer +huge rewards. The last train to camp left at half-past ten, and +Stanley, stayed till ten talking to Garm. I argued and entreated, +and even threatened to shoot the bull-terrier, bat the little man +was as firm as a rock, though I gave him a good dinner and talked +to him most severely. Garm knew as well as I that this was the +last time he could hope to see his man, and followed Stanley like +a shadow. The retriever said nothing, but licked his lips after +his meal and waddled off without so much as saying "Thank you" to +the disgusted dog-boy. + +So that last meeting was over, and I felt as wretched as Garm, +who moaned in his sleep all night. When we went to the office he +found a place under the table close to Vixen, and dropped flat +till it was time to go home. There was no more running out into +the verandahs, no slinking away for stolen talks with Stanley. As +the weather grew warmer the dogs were forbidden to run beside the +cart, but sat at my side on the seat, Vixen with her head under +the crook of my left elbow, and Garm hugging the left handrail. + +Here Vixen was ever in great form. She had to attend to all the +moving traffic, such as bullock-carts that blocked the way, and +camels, and led ponies; as well as to keep up her dignity when +she passed low friends running in the dust. She never yapped for +yapping's sake, but her shrill, high bark was known all along the +Mall, and other men's terriers ki-yied in reply, and +bullock-drivers looked over their shoulders and gave us the road +with a grin. + +But Garm cared for none of these things. His big eyes were on the +horizon and his terrible mouth was shut. There was another dog in +the office who belonged to my chief. We called him "Bob the +Librarian," because he always imagined vain rats behind the +bookshelves, and in hunting for them would drag out half the old +newspaper-files. Bob was a well-meaning idiot, but Garm did not +encourage him. He would slide his head round the door panting, +"Rats! Come along Garm!" and Garm would shift one forepaw over +the other, and curl himself round, leaving Bob to whine at a most +uninterested back. The office was nearly as cheerful as a tomb in +those days. + +Once, and only once, did I see Garm at all contented with his +surroundings. He had gone for an unauthorised walk with Vixen +early one Sunday morning, and a very young and foolish +artilleryman (his battery had just moved to that part of the +world) tried to steal them both. Vixen, of course, knew better +than to take food from soldiers, and, besides, she had just +finished her breakfast. So she trotted back with a large piece of +the mutton that they issue to our troops, laid it down on my +verandah, and looked up to see what I thought. I asked her where +Garin was, and she ran in front of the horse to show me the way. + +About a mile up the road we came across our artilleryman sitting +very stiffly on the edge of a culvert with a greasy handkerchief +on his knees. Garin was in front of him, looking rather pleased. +When the man moved leg or hand, Garin bared his teeth in silence. +A broken string hung from his collar, and the other half of, it +lay, all warm, in the artilleryman's still hand. He explained to +me, keeping his eyes straight in front of him, that he had met +this dog (he called him awful names) walking alone, and was going +to take him to the Fort to be killed for a masterless pariah. + +I said that Garin did not seem to me much of a pariah, but that +he had better take him to the Fort if he thought best. He said he +did not care to do so. I told him to go to the Fort alone. He +said he did not want to go at that hour, but would follow my +advice as soon as I had called off the dog. I instructed Garin to +take him to the Fort, and Garm marched him solemnly up to the +gate, one mile and a half under a hot sun, and I told the +quarter-guard what had happened; but the young artilleryman was +more angry than was at all necessary when they began to laugh. +Several regiments, he was told, had tried to steal Garm in their +time. + +That month the hot weather shut down in earnest, and the dogs +slept in the bathroom on the cool wet bricks where the bath is +placed. Every morning, as soon as the man filled my bath the two +jumped in, and every morning the man filled the bath a second +time. I said to him that he might as well fill a small tub +specially for the dogs. "Nay," said he smiling, "it is not their +custom. They would not understand. Besides, the big bath gives +them more space." + +The punkah-coolies who pull the punkahs day and night came to +know Garin intimately. He noticed that when the swaying fan +stopped I would call out to the coolie and bid him pull with a +long stroke. If the man still slept I would wake him up. He +discovered, too, that it was a good thing to lie in the wave of +air under the punkah. Maybe Stanley had taught him all about this +in barracks. At any rate, when the punkah stopped, Garin would +first growl and cock his eye at the rope, and if that did not +wake the man it nearly always did--he would tiptoe forth and talk +in the sleeper's ear. Vixen was a clever little dog, but she +could never connect the punkah and the coolie; so Garin gave me +grateful hours of cool sleep. But--he was utterly wretched--as +miserable as a human being; and in his misery he clung so closely +to me that other men noticed it, and were envious. If I moved +from one room to another Garin followed; if my pen stopped +scratching, Garm's head was thrust into my hand; if I turned, +half awake, on the pillow, Garm was up and at my side, for he +knew that I was his only link with his master, and day and night, +and night and day, his eyes asked one question--"When is this +going to end?" + +Living with the dog as I did, I never noticed that he was more +than ordinarily upset by the hot weather, till one day at the +Club a man said: "That dog of yours will die in a week or two. +He's a shadow." Then I dosed Garin with iron and quinine, which +he hated; and I felt very anxious. He lost his appetite, and +Vixen was allowed to eat his dinner under his eyes. Even that did +not make him swallow, and we held a consultation on him, of the +best man-doctor in the place; a lady-doctor, who cured the sick +wives of kings; and the Deputy Inspector-General of the +veterinary service of all India. They pronounced upon his +symptoms, and I told them his story, and Garm lay on a sofa +licking my hand. + +"He's dying of a broken heart," said the lady-doctor suddenly. + +"'Pon my word," said the Deputy Inspector General, "I believe +Mrs. Macrae is perfectly right as usual." + +The best man-doctor in the place wrote a prescription, and the +veterinary Deputy Inspector-General went over it afterwards to be +sure that the drugs were in the proper dog-proportions; and that +was the first time in his life that our doctor ever allowed his +prescriptions to be edited. It was a strong tonic, and it put the +dear boy on his feet for a week or two; then he lost flesh again. +I asked a man I knew to take him up to the Hills with him when he +went, and the man came to the door with his kit packed on the top +of the carriage. Garin took in the situation at one red glance. +The hair rose along his back; he sat down in front of me and +delivered the most awful growl I have ever heard in the jaws of a +dog. I shouted to my friend to get away at once, and as soon as +the carriage was out of the garden Garin laid his head on my knee +and whined. So I knew his answer, and devoted myself to getting +Stanley's address in the Hills. + +My turn to go to the cool came late in August. We were allowed +thirty days' holiday in a year, if no one fell sick, and we took +it as we could be spared. My chief and Bob the Librarian had +their holiday first, and when they were gone I made a calendar, +as I always did, and hung it up at the head of my cot, tearing +off one day at a time till they returned. Vixen had gone up to +the Hills with me five times before; and she appreciated the cold +and the damp and the beautiful wood fires there as much as I did. + +"Garm," I said, "we are going back to Stanley at Kasauli. +Kasauli--Stanley; Stanley Kasauli." And I repeated it twenty +times. It was not Kasauli really, but another place. Still I +remembered what Stanley had said in my garden on the last night, +and I dared not change the name. Then Garm began to tremble; then +he barked; and then he leaped up at me, frisking and wagging his +tail. + +"Not now," I said, holding up my hand. "When I say 'Go,' we'll +go, Garm." I pulled out the little blanket coat and spiked collar +that Vixen always wore up in the Hills to protect her against +sudden chills and thieving leopards, and I let the two smell them +and talk it over. What they said of course I do not know; but it +made a new dog of Garm. His eyes were bright; and he barked +joyfully when I spoke to him. He ate his food, and he killed his +rats for the next three weeks, and when he began to whine I had +only to say "Stanley--Kasauli; Kasauli--Stanley," to wake him up. +I wish I had thought of it before. + +My chief came back, all brown with living in the open air, and +very angry at finding it so hot in the plains. That same +afternoon we three and Kadir Buksh began to pack for our month's +holiday, Vixen rolling in and out of the bullock-trunk twenty +times a minute, and Garm grinning all over and thumping on the +floor with his tail. Vixen knew the routine of travelling as well +as she knew my office-work. She went to the station, singing +songs, on the front seat of the carriage, while Garin sat with +me. She hurried into the railway carriage, saw Kadir Buksh make +up my bed for the night, got her drink of water, and curled up +with her black-patch eye on the tumult of the platform. Garin +followed her (the crowd gave him a lane all to himself) and sat +down on the pillows with his eyes blazing, and his tail a haze +behind him. + +We came to Umballa in the hot misty dawn, four or five men, who +had been working hard fox eleven months, shouting for our +dales--the two-horse travelling carriages that were to take us up +to Kalka at the foot of the Hills. It was all new to Garm. He did +not understand carriages where you lay at full length on your +bedding, but Vixen knew and hopped into her place at once; Garin +following. The Kalka Road, before the railway was built, was +about forty-seven miles long, and the horses were changed every +eight miles. Most of them jibbed, and kicked, and plunged, but +they had to go, and they went rather better than usual for Garm's +deep bay in their rear. + +There was a river to be forded, and four bullocks pulled the +carriage, and Vixen stuck her head out of the sliding-door and +nearly fell into the water while she gave directions. Garin was +silent and curious, and rather needed reassuring about Stanley +and Kasauli. So we rolled, barking and yelping, into Kalka for +lunch, and Garm ate enough for two. + +After Kalka the road wound among the hills, and we took a +curricle with half-broken ponies, which were changed every six +miles. No one dreamed of a railroad to Simla in those days, for +it was seven thousand feet up in the air. The road was more than +fifty miles long, and the regulation pace was just as fast as the +ponies could go. Here, again, Vixen led Garm from one carriage to +the other; jumped into the back seat, and shouted. A cool breath +from the snows met us about five miles out of Kalka, and she +whined for her coat, wisely fearing a chill on the liver. I had +had one made for Garm too, and, as we climbed to the fresh +breezes, I put it on, and arm chewed it uncomprehendingly, but I +think he was grateful. + +"Hi-yi-yi-yi!" sang Vixen as we shot round the curves; +"Toot-toot-toot!" went the driver's bugle at the dangerous +places, and "yow! yow!" bayed Garm. Kadir Buksh sat on the front +seat and smiled. Even he was glad to get away from the heat of +the Plains that stewed in the haze behind us. Now and then we +would meet a man we knew going down to his work again, and he +would say: "What's it like below?" and I would shout: "Hotter +than cinders. What's it like up above?" and he would shout back: +"Just perfect!" and away we would go. + +Suddenly Kadir Buksh said, over his shoulder: "Here is Solon"; +and Garm snored where he lay with his head on my knee. Solon is +an unpleasant little cantonment, but it has the advantage of +being cool and healthy. It is all bare and windy, and one +generally stops at a rest-house nearby for something to eat. I +got out and took both dogs with me, while Kadir Buksh made tea. A +soldier told, us we should find Stanley "out there," nodding his +head towards a bare, bleak hill. + +When we climbed to the top we spied that very Stanley, who had +given me all this trouble, sitting on a rock with his face in his +hands, and his overcoat hanging loose about him. I never saw +anything so lonely and dejected in my life as this one little +man, crumpled up and thinking, on the great gray hillside. + +Here Garm left me. + +He departed without a word, and, so far as I could see, without +moving his legs. He flew through the air bodily, and I heard the +whack of him as he flung himself at Stanley, knocking the little +man clean over. They rolled on the ground together, shouting, and +yelping, and hugging. I could not see which was dog and which was +man, till Stanley got up and whimpered. + +He told me that he had been suffering from fever at intervals, +and was very weak. He looked all he said, but even while I +watched, both man and dog plumped out to their natural sizes, +precisely as dried apples swell in water. Garin was on his +shoulder, and his breast and feet all at the same time, so that +Stanley spoke all through a cloud of Garin--gulping, sobbing, +slavering Garm. He did not say anything that I could understand, +except that he had fancied he was going to die, but that now he +was quite well, and that he was not going to give up Garin any +more to anybody under the rank of Beelzebub. + +Then he said he felt hungry, and thirsty, and happy. + +We went down to tea at the rest-house, where Stanley stuffed +himself with sardines and raspberry jam, and beer, and cold +mutton and pickles, when Garm wasn't climbing over him; and then +Vixen and I went on. + +Garm saw how it was at once. He said good-bye to me three times, +giving me both paws one after another, and leaping on to my +shoulder. He further escorted us, singing Hosannas at the top of +his voice, a mile down the road. Then he raced back to his own +master. + +Vixen never opened her mouth, but when the cold twilight came, +and we could see the lights of Simla across the hills, she +snuffled with her nose at the breast of my ulster. I unbuttoned +it, and tucked her inside. Then she gave a contented little +sniff, and fell fast asleep, her head on my breast, till we +bundled out at Simla, two of the four happiest people in all the +world that night. + + + + THE POWER OF THE DOG + + There is sorrow enough in the natural way + From men and women to fill our day; + But when we are certain of sorrow in store, + Why do we always arrange for more? + Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware + Of giving your heart to a dog to tear. + + Buy a pup and your money will buy + Love unflinching that cannot lie-- + Perfect passion and worship fed + By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head. + Nevertheless it is hardly fair + To risk your heart for a dog to tear. + + When the fourteen years which Nature permits + Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits, + And the vet's unspoken prescription runs + To lethal chambers or loaded guns, + Then you will find--it's your own affair + But . . . you've given your heart to a dog to tear. + + When the body that lived at your single will + When the whimper of welcome is stilled (how still!) + When the spirit that answered your every mood + Is gone wherever it goes--for good, + You will discover how much you care, + And will give your heart to a dog to tear! + + We've sorrow enough in the natural way, + When it comes to burying Christian clay. + Our loves are not given, but only lent, + At compound interest of cent per cent. + Though it is not always the case, I believe, + That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve: + For, when debts are payable, right or wrong, + A short-time loan is as bad as a long + So why in Heaven (before we are there!) + Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear? + + + +THE MOTHER HIVE + +If the stock had not been old and overcrowded, the Wax-moth would +never have entered; but where bees are too thick on the comb +there must be sickness or parasites. The heat of the hive had +risen with the June honey-flow, and though the farmers worked, +until their wings ached, to keep people cool, everybody suffered. + +A young bee crawled up the greasy trampled alighting-board. +"Excuse me," she began, "but it's my first honey-flight. Could +you kindly tell me if this is my--" + +"--own hive?" the Guard snapped. "Yes! Buzz in, and be +foul-brooded to you! Next!" + +"Shame!" cried half a dozen old workers with worn wings and +nerves, and there was a scuffle and a hum. + +The little grey Wax-moth, pressed close in a crack in the +alighting-board, had waited this chance all day. She scuttled in +like a ghost, and, knowing the senior bees would turn her out at +once, dodged into a brood-frame, where youngsters who had not yet +seen the winds blow or the flowers nod discussed life. Here she +was safe, for young bees will tolerate any sort of stranger. +Behind her came the bee who had been slanged by the Guard. + +"What is the world like, Melissa?" said a companion. "Cruel! I +brought in a full load of first-class stuff, and the Guard told +me to go and be foul-brooded!" She sat down in the cool draught +across the combs. + +"If you'd only heard," said the Wax-moth silkily, "the insolence +of the Guard's tone when she cursed our sister. It aroused the +Entire Community." She laid an egg. She had stolen in for that +purpose. + +"There was a bit of a fuss on the Gate," Melissa chuckled. "You +were there, Miss?" She did not know how to address the slim +stranger. + +"Don't call me 'Miss.' I'm a sister to all in affliction--just a +working-sister. My heart bled for you beneath your burden." The +Wax-moth caressed Melissa with her soft feelers and laid another +egg. + +"You mustn't lay here," cried Melissa. "You aren't a Queen." + +"My dear child, I give you my most solemn word of honour those +aren't eggs. Those are my principles, and I am ready to die for +them." She raised her voice a little above the rustle and tramp +round her. "If you'd like to kill me, pray do." + +"Don't be unkind, Melissa," said a young bee, impressed by the +chaste folds of the Wax-moth's wing, which hid her ceaseless +egg-dropping. + +"I haven't done anything," Melissa answered. "She's doing it +all." + +"Ah, don't let your conscience reproach you later, but when +you've killed me, write me, at least, as one that loved her +fellow-worker." + +Laying at every sob, the Wax-moth backed into a crowd of young +bees, and left Melissa bewildered and annoyed. So she lifted up +her little voice in the darkness and cried, "Stores!" till a gang +of cell-fillers hailed her, and she left her load with them. + +"I'm afraid I foul-brooded you just now," said a voice over her +shoulder. "I'd been on the Gate for three hours, and one would +foul-brood the Queen herself after that. No offence meant." + +"None taken," Melissa answered cheerily. "I shall be on Guard +myself, some day. What's next to do?" + +"There's a rumour of Death's Head Moths about. Send a gang of +youngsters to the Gate, and tell them to narrow it in with a +couple of stout scrap-wax pillars. It'll make the Hive hot, but +we can't have Death's Headers in the middle of our honey-flow." + +"My Only Wings! I should think not!" Melissa had all a sound +bee's hereditary hatred against the big, squeaking, feathery +Thief of the Hives. "Tumble out!" she called across the +youngsters' quarters. "All you who aren't feeding babies, show a +leg. Scrap-wax pillars for the Ga-ate!" She chanted the order at +length. + +"That's nonsense," a downy, day-old bee answered. "In the first +place, I never heard of a Death's Header coming into a hive. +People don't do such things. In the second, building pillars to +keep 'em out is purely a Cypriote trick, unworthy of British +bees. In the third, if you trust a Death's Head, he will trust +you. Pillar-building shows lack of confidence. Our dear sister in +grey says so." + +"Yes. Pillars are un-English and provocative, and a waste of wax +that is needed for higher and more practical ends," said the +Wax-moth from an empty store-cell. + +"The safety of the Hive is the highest thing I've ever heard of. +You mustn't teach us to refuse work," Melissa began. + +"You misunderstand me, as usual, love. Work's the essence of +life; but to expend precious unreturning vitality and real labour +against imaginary danger, that is heartbreakingly absurd! If I +can only teach a--a little toleration--a little ordinary kindness +here toward that absurd old bogey you call the Death's Header, I +shan't have lived in vain." + +"She hasn't lived in vain, the darling!" cried twenty bees +together. "You should see her saintly life, Melissa! She just +devotes herself to spreading her principles, and--and--she looks +lovely!" + +An old, baldish bee came up the comb. + +"Pillar-workers for the Gate! Get out and chew scraps. Buzz off!" +she said. The Wax-moth slipped aside. + +The young bees trooped down the frame, whispering. "What's the +matter with 'em?" said the oldster. "Why do they call each other +'ducky' and 'darling'? Must be the weather." She sniffed +suspiciously. "Horrid stuffy smell here. Like stale quilts. Not +Wax-moth, I hope, Melissa?" + +"Not to my knowledge," said Melissa, who, of course, only knew +the Wax-moth as a lady with principles, and had never thought to +report her presence. She had always imagined Wax-moths to be like +blood-red dragon-flies. + +"You had better fan out this corner for a little," said the old +bee and passed on. Melissa dropped her head at once, took firm +hold with her fore-feet, and fanned obediently at the regulation +stroke three hundred beats to the second. Fanning tries a bee's +temper, because she must always keep in the same place where she +never seems to be doing any good, and, all the while, she is +wearing out her only wings. When a bee cannot fly, a bee must not +live; and a bee knows it. The Wax-moth crept forth, and caressed +Melissa again. + +"I see," she murmured, "that at heart you are one of Us." + +"I work with the Hive," Melissa answered briefly. + +"It's the same thing. We and the Hive are one." + +"Then why are your feelers different from ours? Don't cuddle so." + +"Don't be provincial, Carissima. You can't have all the world +alike--yet." + +"But why do you lay eggs?" Melissa insisted. "You lay 'em like a +Queen--only you drop them in patches all over the place. I've +watched you." + +"Ah, Brighteyes, so you've pierced my little subterfuge? Yes, +they are eggs. By and by they'll spread our principles. Aren't +you glad?" + +"You gave me your most solemn word of honour that they were not +eggs." + +"That was my little subterfuge, dearest--for the sake of the +Cause. Now I must reach the young." The Wax-moth tripped towards +the fourth brood-frame where the young bees were busy feeding the +babies. + +It takes some time for a sound bee to realize a malignant and +continuous lie. "She's very sweet and feathery," was all that +Melissa thought, "but her talk sounds like ivy honey tastes. I'd +better get to my field-work again." + +She found the Gate in a sulky uproar. The youngsters told off to +the pillars had refused to chew scrap-wax because it made their +jaws ache, and were clamouring for virgin stuff. + +"Anything to finish the job!" said the badgered Guards. "Hang up, +some of you, and make wax for these slack-jawed sisters." + +Before a bee can make wax she must fill herself with honey. Then +she climbs to safe foothold and hangs, while other gorged bees +hang on to her in a cluster. There they wait in silence till the +wax comes. The scales are either taken out of the maker's pockets +by the workers, or tinkle down on the workers while they wait. +The workers chew them (they are useless unchewed) into the +all-supporting, all-embracing Wax of the Hive. + +But now, no sooner was the wax-cluster in position than the +workers below broke out again. + +"Come down!" they cried. "Come down and work! Come on, you +Levantine parasites! Don't think to enjoy yourselves up there +while we're sweating down here!" + +The cluster shivered, as from hooked fore-foot to hooked +hind-foot it telegraphed uneasiness. At last a worker sprang up, +grabbed the lowest waxmaker, and swung, kicking above her +companions. + +"I can make wax too!" she bawled. "Give me a full gorge and I'll +make tons of it." + +"Make it, then," said the bee she had grappled. The spoken word +snapped the current through the cluster. It shook and glistened +like a cat's fur in the dark. "Unhook!" it murmured. "No wax for +any one to-day." + +"You lazy thieves! Hang up at once and produce our wax," said the +bees below. + +"Impossible! The sweat's gone. To make your wax we must have +stillness, warmth, and food. Unhook! Unhook!" + +They broke up as they murmured, and disappeared among the other +bees, from whom, of course, they were undistinguishable. + +"Seems as if we'd have to chew scrap-wax for these pillars, after +all," said a worker. + +"Not by a whole comb," cried the young bee who had broken the +cluster. "Listen here! I've studied the question more than twenty +minutes. It's as simple as falling off a daisy. You've heard of +Cheshire, Root and Langstroth?" + +They had not, but they shouted "Good old Langstroth!" just the +same. + +"Those three know all that there is to be known about making +hives. One or t'other of 'em must have made ours, and if they've +made it, they're bound to look after it. Ours is a 'Guaranteed +Patent Hive.' You can see it on the label behind." + +"Good old guarantee! Hurrah for the label behind!" roared the +bees. + +"Well, such being the case, I say that when we find they've +betrayed us, we can exact from them a terrible vengeance." + +"Good old vengeance! Good old Root! 'Nuff said! Chuck it!" The +crowd cheered and broke away as Melissa dived through. + +"D'you know where Langstroth, Root and Cheshire, live if you +happen to want em? she asked of the proud panting orator. + +"Gum me if I know they ever lived at all! But aren't they +beautiful names to buzz about? Did you see how it worked up the +sisterhood?" + +"Yes; but it didn't defend the Gate," she replied. + +"Ah, perhaps that's true, but think how delicate my position is, +sister. I've a magnificent appetite, and I don't like working. +It's bad for the mind. My instinct tells me that I can act as a +restraining influence on others. They would have been worse, but +for me." + +But Melissa had already risen clear, and was heading for a +breadth of virgin white clover, which to an overtired bee is as +soothing as plain knitting to a woman. + +"I think I'll take this load to the nurseries," she said, when +she had finished. "It was always quiet there in my day," and she +topped off with two little pats of pollen for the babies. + +She was met on the fourth brood-comb by a rush of excited sisters +all buzzing together. + +"One at a time! Let me put down my load. Now, what is it +Sacharissa?" she said. + +"Grey Sister--that fluffy one, I mean--she came and said we ought +to be out in the sunshine gathering honey, because life was +short. She said any old bee could attend to our babies, and some +day old bees would. That isn't true, Melissa, is it? No old bees +can take us away from our babies, can they?" + +"Of course not. You feed the babies while your heads are soft. +When your heads harden, you go on to field-work. Any one knows +that." + +"We told her so! We told her so; but she only waved her feelers, +and said we could all lay eggs like Queens if we chose. And I'm +afraid lots of the weaker sisters believe her, and are trying to +do it. So unsettling!" + +Sacharissa sped to a sealed worker-cell whose lid pulsated, as +the bee within began to cut its way out. + +"Come along, precious!" she murmured, and thinned the frail top +from the other side. A pale, damp, creased thing hoisted itself +feebly on to the comb. Sacharissa's note changed at once. "No +time to waste! Go up the frame and preen yourself!" she said. +"Report for nursing-duty in my ward to-morrow evening at six. +Stop a minute. What's the matter with your third right leg?" + +The young bee held it out in silence--unmistakably a drone leg +incapable of packing pollen. + +"Thank you. You needn't report till the day after to-morrow." +Sacharissa turned to her companion. "That's the fifth oddity +hatched in my ward since noon. I don't like it." + +"There's always a certain number of 'em," said Melissa. "You +can't stop a few working sisters from laying, now and then, when +they overfeed themselves. They only raise dwarf drones." + +But we're hatching out drones with workers' stomachs; workers +with drones' stomachs; and albinoes and mixed-leggers who can't +pack pollen--like that poor little beast yonder. I don't mind +dwarf drones any more than you do (they all die in July), but +this steady hatch of oddities frightens me, Melissa!" + +"How narrow of you! They are all so delightfully clever and +unusual and interesting," piped the Wax-moth from a crack above +them. "Come here, you dear, downy duck, and tell us all about +your feelings." + +"I wish she'd go!" Sacharissa lowered her voice. "She meets +these--er -oddities as they dry out, and cuddles 'em in corners." + +"I suppose the truth is that we're over-stocked and too well fed +to swarm," said Melissa. + +"That is the truth," said the Queen's voice behind them. They had +not heard the heavy royal footfall which sets empty cells +vibrating. Sacharissa offered her food at once. She ate and +dragged her weary body forward. "Can you suggest a remedy?" she +said. + +"New principles!" cried the Wax-moth from her crevice. "We'll +apply them quietly later." + +"Suppose we sent out a swarm?" Melissa suggested. "It's a little +late, but it might ease us off." + +"It would save us, but--I know the Hive! You shall see for +yourself." The old Queen cried the Swarming Cry, which to a bee +of good blood should be what the trumpet was to Job's war-horse. +In spite of her immense age (three, years), it rang between the +canon-like frames as a pibroch rings in a mountain pass; the +fanners changed their note, and repeated it up in every gallery; +and the broad-winged drones, burly and eager, ended it on one +nerve-thrilling outbreak of bugles: "La Reine le veult! Swarm! +Swar-rm! Swar-r-rm!" + +But the roar which should follow the Call was wanting. They heard +a broken grumble like the murmur of a falling tide. + +"Swarm? What for? Catch me leaving a good bar-frame Hive, with +fixed foundations, for a rotten, old oak out in the open where it +may rain any minute! We're all right! It's a 'Patent Guaranteed +Hive.' Why do they want to turn us out? Swarming be gummed! +Swarming was invented to cheat a worker out of her proper +comforts. Come on off to bed!" + +The noise died out as the bees settled in empty cells for the +night. + +"You hear?" said the Queen. "I know the Hive!" + +"Quite between ourselves, I taught them that," cried the +Wax-moth. "Wait till my principles develop, and you'll see the +light from a new quarter." + +"You speak truth for once," the Queen said suddenly, for she +recognized the Wax-moth. "That Light will break into the top of +the Hive. A Hot Smoke will follow it, and your children will not +be able to hide in any crevice." + +"Is it possible?" Melissa whispered. "I-we have sometimes heard a +legend like it." + +"It is no legend," the old Queen answered. "I had it from my +mother, and she had it from hers. After the Wax-moth has grown +strong, a Shadow will fall across the gate; a Voice will speak +from behind a Veil; there will be Light, and Hot Smoke, and +earthquakes, and those who live will see everything that they +have done, all together in one place, burned up in one great +fire." The old Queen was trying to tell what she had been told of +the Bee Master's dealings with an infected hive in the apiary, +two or three seasons ago; and, of course, from her point of view +the affair was as important as the Day of Judgment. + +"And then?" asked horrified Sacharissa. + +"Then, I have heard that a little light will burn in a great +darkness, and perhaps the world will begin again. Myself, I think +not." + +"Tut! Tut!" the Wax-moth cried. "You good, fat people always +prophesy ruin if things don't go exactly your way. But I grant +you there will be changes." + +There were. When her eggs hatched, the wax was riddled with +little tunnels, coated with the dirty clothes of the +caterpillars. Flannelly lines ran through the honey-stores, the +pollen-larders, the foundations, and, worst of all, through the +babies in their cradles, till the Sweeper Guards spent half their +time tossing out useless little corpses. The lines ended in a +maze of sticky webbing on the face of the comb. The caterpillars +could not stop spinning as they walked, and as they walked +everywhere, they smarmed and garmed everything. Even where it did +not hamper the bees' feet, the stale, sour smell of the stuff put +them off their work; though some of the bees who had taken to egg +laying said it encouraged them to be mothers and maintain a vital +interest in life. + +When the caterpillars became moths, they made friends with the +ever-increasing Oddities--albinoes, mixed-leggers, single-eyed +composites, faceless drones, halfqueens and laying sisters; and +the ever-dwindling band of the old stock worked themselves bald +and fray-winged to feed their queer charges. Most of the Oddities +would not, and many, on account of their malformations, could +not, go through a day's field-work; but the Wax-moths, who were +always busy on the brood-comb, found pleasant home occupations +for them. One albino, for instance, divided the number of pounds +of honey in stock by the number of bees in the Hive, and proved +that if every bee only gathered honey for seven and three quarter +minutes a day, she would have the rest of the time to herself, +and could accompany the drones on their mating flights. The +drones were not at all pleased. + +Another, an eyeless drone with no feelers, said that all +brood-cells should be perfect circles, so as not to interfere +with the grub or the workers. He proved that the old six-sided +cell was solely due to the workers building against each other on +opposite sides of the wall, and that if there were no +interference, there would be no angles. Some bees tried the new +plan for a while, and found it cost eight times more wax than the +old six sided specification; and, as they never allowed a cluster +to hang up and make wax in peace, real wax was scarce. However, +they eked out their task with varnish stolen from new coffins at +funerals, and it made them rather sick. Then they took to cadging +round sugar-factories and breweries, because it was easiest to +get their material from those places, and the mixture of glucose +and beer naturally fermented in store and blew the store-cells +out of shape, besides smelling abominably. Some of the sound bees +warned them that ill-gotten gains never prosper, but the Oddities +at once surrounded them and balled them to death. That was a +punishment they were almost as fond of as they were of eating, +and they expected the sound bees to feed them. Curiously enough +the age-old instinct of loyalty and devotion towards the Hive +made the sound bees do this, though their reason told them they +ought to slip away and unite with some other healthy stock in the +apiary. + +"What, about seven and three-quarter minutes' work now?" said +Melissa one day as she came in. "I've been at it for five hours, +and I've only half a load." + +"Oh, the Hive subsists on the Hival Honey which the Hive +produces," said a blind Oddity squatting in a store-cell. + +"But honey is gathered from flowers outside two miles away +sometimes," cried Melissa. + +"Pardon me," said the blind thing, sucking hard. "But this is the +Hive, is it not?" + +"It was. Worse luck, it is." + +"And the Hival Honey is here, is it not?" It opened a fresh +store-cell to prove it. + +"Ye-es, but it won't be long at this rate," said Melissa. + +"The rates have nothing to do with it. This Hive produces the +Hival Honey. You people never seem to grasp the economic +simplicity that underlies all life." + +"Oh, me!" said poor Melissa, "haven't you ever been beyond the +Gate?" + +"Certainly not. A fool's eyes are in the ends of the earth. Mine +are in my head." It gorged till it bloated. + +Melissa took refuge in her poorly paid field-work and told +Sacharissa the story. + +"Hut!" said that wise bee, fretting with an old maid of a +thistle. "Tell us something new. The Hive's full of such as +him--it, I mean." + +"What's the end to be? All the honey going out and none coming +in. Things can't last this way!" said Melissa. + +"Who cares?" said Sacharissa. "I know now how drones feel the day +before they're killed. A short life and a merry one for me." + +"If it only were merry! But think of those awful, solemn, +lop-sided Oddities waiting for us at home crawling and clambering +and preaching--and dirtying things in the dark." + +"I don't mind that so much as their silly songs, after we've fed +'em, all about 'work among the merry, merry blossoms," said +Sacharissa from the deeps of a stale Canterbury bell. + +"I do. How's our Queen?" said Melissa. + +"Cheerfully hopeless, as usual. But she lays an egg now and +then." + +"Does she so?" Melissa backed out of the next bell with a jerk. +"Suppose now, we sound workers tried to raise a Princess in some +clean corner?" + +"You'd be put to it to find one. The Hive's all Wax-moth and +muckings. But--well?" + +"A Princess might help us in the time of the Voice behind the +Veil that the Queen talks of. And anything is better than working +for Oddities that chirrup about work that they can't do, and +waste what we bring home." + +"Who cares?" said Sacharissa. "I'm with you, for the fun of it. +The Oddities would ball us to death, if they knew. Come home, and +we'll begin." + +There is no room to tell how the experienced Melissa found a +far-off frame so messed and mishandled by abandoned cell-building +experiments that, for very shame, the bees never went there. How +in that ruin she blocked out a Royal Cell of sound wax, but +disguised by rubbish till it looked like a kopje among deserted +kopjes. How she prevailed upon the hopeless Queen to make one +last effort and lay a worthy egg. How the Queen obeyed and died. +How her spent carcass was flung out on the rubbish heap, and how +a multitude of laying sisters went about dropping drone-eggs +where they listed, and said there was no more need of Queens. +How, covered by this confusion, Sacharissa educated certain young +bees to educate certain new-born bees in the almost lost art of +making Royal Jelly. How the nectar for it was won out of hours in +the teeth of chill winds. How the hidden egg hatched true--no +drone, but Blood Royal. How it was capped, and how desperately +they worked to feed and double-feed the now swarming Oddities, +lest any break in the food-supplies should set them to +instituting inquiries, which, with songs about work, was their +favourite amusement. How in an auspicious hour, on a moonless +night, the Princess came forth a Princess indeed, and how Melissa +smuggled her into a dark empty honey-magazine, to bide her time; +and how the drones, knowing she was there, went about singing the +deep disreputable love-songs of the old days--to the scandal of +the laying sisters, who do not think well of drones. These things +are, written in the Book of Queens, which is laid up in the +hollow of the Great Ash Ygdrasil. + +After a few days the weather changed again and became glorious. +Even the Oddities would now join the crowd that hung out on the +alighting-board, and would sing of work among the merry, merry +blossoms till an untrained ear might have received it for the hum +of a working hive. Yet, in truth, their store-honey had been +eaten long ago. They lived from day to day on the efforts of the +few sound bees, while the Wax-moth fretted and consumed again +their already ruined wax. But the sound bees never mentioned +these matters. They knew, if they did, the Oddities would hold a +meeting and ball them to death. + +"Now you see what we have done," said the Wax-moths. "We have +created New Material, a New Convention, a New Type, as we said we +would." + +"And new possibilities for us," said the laying sisters +gratefully. "You have given us a new life's work, vital and +paramount." + +"More than that," chanted the Oddities in the sunshine; "you have +created a new heaven and a new earth. Heaven, cloudless and +accessible" (it was a perfect August evening) "and Earth teeming +with the merry, merry blossoms, waiting only our honest toil to +turn them all to good. The--er--Aster, and the Crocus, and +the--er--Ladies' Smock in her season, the Chrysanthemum after her +kind, and the Guelder Rose bringing forth abundantly withal." + +"Oh, Holy Hymettus!" said Melissa, awestruck. "I knew they didn't +know how honey was made, but they've forgotten the Order of the +Flowers! What will become of them?" + +A Shadow fell across the alighting-board as the Bee Master and +his son came by. The Oddities crawled in and a Voice behind a +Veil said: "I've neglected the old Hive too long. Give me the +smoker." + +Melissa heard and darted through the gate. "Come, oh come!" she +cried. "It is the destruction the Old Queen foretold. Princess, +come!" + +"Really, you are too archaic for words," said an Oddity in an +alley-way. "A cloud, I admit, may have crossed the sun; but why +hysterics? Above all, why Princesses so late in the day? Are you +aware it's the Hival Tea-time? Let's sing grace." + +Melissa clawed past him with all six legs. Sacharissa had run to +what was left of the fertile brood-comb. "Down and out!" she +called across the brown breadth of it. "Nurses, guards, fanners, +sweepers--out! + +Never mind the babies. They're better dead.--Out, before the +Light and the Hot Smoke!" + +The Princess's first clear fearless call (Melissa had found her) +rose and drummed through all the frames. "La Reine le veult! +Swarm! Swar-rm! Swar-r-rm!" + +The Hive shook beneath the shattering thunder of a stuck-down +quilt being torn back. + +"Don't be alarmed, dears," said the Wax-moths. "That's our work. +Look up, and you'll see the dawn of the New Day." + +Light broke in the top of the hive as the Queen had, +prophesied--naked light on the boiling, bewildered bees. + +Sacharissa rounded up her rearguard, which dropped headlong off +the frame, and joined the Princess's detachment thrusting toward +the Gate. Now panic was in full blast, and each sound bee found +herself embraced by at least three Oddities. The first instinct +of a frightened bee is to break into the stores and gorge herself +with honey; but there were no stores left, so the Oddities fought +the sound bees. + +"You must feed us, or we shall die!" they cried, holding and +clutching and slipping, while the silent scared earwigs and +little spiders twisted between their legs. "Think of the Hive, +traitors! The Holy Hive!" + +"You should have thought before!" cried the sound bees., "Stay +and see the dawn of your New Day." + +They reached the Gate at last over the soft bodies of many to +whom they had ministered. + +"On! Out! Up!" roared Melissa in the Princess's ear. "For the +Hive's sake! To the Old Oak!" + +The Princess left the alighting-board, circled once, flung +herself at the lowest branch of the Old Oak, and her little loyal +swarm--you could have covered it with a pint mug--followed, +hooked, and hung. + +"Hold close!" Melissa gasped. "The old legends have come true! +Look!" + +The Hive was half hidden by smoke, and Figures moved through the +smoke. They heard a frame crack stickily, saw it heaved high and +twirled round between enormous hands--a blotched, bulged, and +perished horror of grey wax, corrupt brood, and small +drone-cells, all covered with crawling Oddities, strange to the +sun. + +"Why, this isn't a hive! This is a museum of curiosities," said +the Voice behind the Veil. It was only the Bee Master talking to +his son. + +"Can you blame 'em, father?" said a second voice. "It's rotten +with Wax-moth. See here!" + +Another frame came up. A finger poked through it, and it broke +away in rustling flakes of ashy rottenness. + +"Number Four Frame! That was your mother's pet comb once," +whispered Melissa to the Princess. "Many's the good egg I've +watched her lay there." + +"Aren't you confusing pod hoc with propter hoc?" said the Bee +Master. "Wax-moth only succeed when weak bees let them in." A +third frame crackled and rose into the light. "All this is full +of laying workers' brood. That never happens till the stock's +weakened. Phew!" + +He beat it on his knee like a tambourine, and it also crumbled to +pieces. + +The little swarm shivered as they watched the dwarf drone-grubs +squirm feebly on the grass. Many sound bees had nursed on that +frame, well knowing their work was useless; but the actual sight +of even useless work destroyed disheartens a good worker. + +"No, they have some recuperative power left," said the second +voice. "Here's a Queen cell!" + +"But it's tucked away among--What on earth has come to the little +wretches? They seem to have lost the instinct of cell-building." +The father held up the frame where the bees had experimented in +circular cell-work. It looked like the pitted head, of a decaying +toadstool. + +"Not altogether," the son corrected. "There's one line, at least, +of perfectly good cells." + +"My work," said Sacharissa to herself. "I'm glad Man does me +justice before--" + +That frame, too, was smashed out and thrown atop of the others +and the foul earwiggy quilts. + +As frame after frame followed it, the swarm beheld the upheaval, +exposure, and destruction of all that had been well or ill done +in every cranny of their Hive for generations past. There was +black comb so old that they had forgotten where it hung; orange, +buff, and ochre-varnished store-comb, built as bees were used to +build before the days of artificial foundations; and there was a +little, white, frail new work. There were sheets on sheets of +level, even brood-comb that had held in its time unnumbered +thousands of unnamed workers; patches of obsolete drone-comb, +broad and high-shouldered, showing to what marks the male grub +was expected to grow; and two-inch deep honey-magazines, empty, +but still magnificent, the whole gummed and glued into twisted +scrap-work, awry on the wires; half-cells, beginnings abandoned, +or grandiose, weak-walled, composite cells pieced out with +rubbish and capped with dirt. + +Good or bad, every inch of it was so riddled by the tunnels of +the Wax-moth that it broke in clouds of dust as it was flung on +the heap. + +"Oh, see!" cried Sacharissa. "The Great Burning that Our Queen +foretold. Who can bear to look?" + +A flame crawled up the pile of rubbish, and they smelt singeing +wax. + +The Figures stooped, lifted the Hive and shook it upside down +over the pyre. A cascade of Oddities, chips of broken comb, +scale, fluff, and grubs slid out, crackled, sizzled, popped a +little, and then the flames roared up and consumed all that fuel. + +"We must disinfect," said a Voice. "Get me a sulphur-candle, +please." + +The shell of the Hive was returned to its place, a light was set +in its sticky emptiness, tier by tier the Figures built it up, +closed the entrance, and went away. The swarm watched the light +leaking through the cracks all the long night. At dawn one +Wax-moth came by, fluttering impudently. + +"There has been a miscalculation about the New Day, my dears," +she began; "one can't expect people to be perfect all at once. +That was our mistake." + +"No, the mistake was entirely ours," said the Princess. + +"Pardon me," said the Wax-moth. "When you think of the enormous +upheaval--call it good or bad--which our influence brought about, +you will admit that we, and we alone--" + +"You?" said the Princess. "Our stock was not strong. So you +came--as any other disease might have come. Hang close, all my +people." + +When the sun rose, Veiled Figures came down, and saw their swarm +at the bough's end waiting patiently within sight of the old +Hive--a handful, but prepared to go on. + + + + THE BEES AND THE FLIES + + A FARMER of the Augustan age + Perused in Virgil's golden page, + The story of the secret won + From Proteus by Cyrene's son + How the dank sea-god sowed the swain + Means to restore his hives again + More briefly, how a slaughtered bull + Breeds honey by the bellyful. + + The egregious rustic put to death + A bull by stopping of its breath: + Disposed the carcass in a shed + With fragrant herbs and branches spread. + And, having thus performed the charm, + Sat down to wait the promised swarm. + + Nor waited long . . . The God of Day + Impartial, quickening with his ray + Evil and good alike, beheld + The carcass--and the carcass swelled! + Big with new birth the belly heaves + Beneath its screen of scented leaves; + Past any doubt, the bull conceives! + + The farmer bids men bring more hives + To house the profit that arrives; + Prepares on pan, and key and kettle, + Sweet music that shall make 'em settle; + But when to crown the work he goes, + Gods! What a stink salutes his nose! + Where are the honest toilers? + Where The gravid mistress of their care? + A busy scene, indeed, he sees, + But not a sign or sound of bees. + Worms of the riper grave unhid + By any kindly coffin lid, + Obscene and shameless to the light, + Seethe in insatiate appetite, + Through putrid offal; while above + The hissing blow-fly seeks his love, + Whose offspring, supping where they supt, + Consume corruption twice corrupt. + + + +WITH THE NIGHT MAIL + +A STORY OF 2000 A. D. + +(Together with extracts from the magazine in which it appeared) + +A nine o'clock of a gusty winter night I stood on the lower +stages of one of the G.P.O. outward mail towers. My purpose was a +run to Quebec in "Postal Packet 162 or such other as may be +appointed"; and the Postmaster-General himself countersigned the +order. This talisman opened all doors, even those in the +despatching-caisson at the foot of the tower, where they were +delivering the sorted Continental mail. The bags lay packed close +as herrings in the long grey underbodies which our G.P.O. still +calls "coaches." Five such coaches were filled as I watched, and +were shot up the guides to be locked on to their waiting packets +three hundred feet nearer the stars. + +From the despatching-caisson I was conducted by a courteous and +wonderfully learned official Mr. L.L. Geary, Second Despatcher of +the Western Route--to the Captains' Room (this wakes an echo of +old romance), where the mail captains come on for their turn of +duty. He introduces me to the captain of "162"--Captain Purnall, +and his relief, Captain Hodgson. The one is small and dark; the +other large and red; but each has the brooding sheathed glance +characteristic of eagles and aeronauts. You can see it in the +pictures of our racing professionals, from L.V. Rautsch to little +Ada Warrleigh--that fathomless abstraction of eyes habitually +turned through naked space. + +On the notice-board in the Captains' Room, the pulsing arrows of +some twenty indicators register, degree by geographical degree, +the progress of as many homeward-bound packets. The word "Cape" +rises across the face of a dial; a gong strikes: the South +African mid-weekly mail is in at the Highgate Receiving Towers. +That is all. It reminds one comically of the traitorous little +bell which in pigeon-fanciers', lofts notifies the return of a +homer. + +"Time for us to be on the move," says Captain Purnall, and we are +shot up by the passenger-lift to the top of the despatch-towers. +"Our coach will lock on when it is filled and the clerks are +aboard." + +"No. 162" waits for us in Slip E of the topmost stage. The great +curve of her back shines frostily under the lights, and some +minute alteration of trim makes her rock a little in her +holding-down slips. + +Captain Purnall frowns and dives inside. Hissing softly, "162" +comes to rest as level as a rule. From her North Atlantic Winter +nose-cap (worn bright as diamond with boring through uncounted +leagues of hail, snow, and ice) to the inset of her three built +out propeller-shafts is some two hundred and forty feet. Her +extreme diameter, carried well forward, is thirty-seven. Contrast +this with the nine hundred by ninety-five of any crack liner, and +you will realize the power that must drive a hull through all +weathers at more than the emergency speed of the Cyclonic! + +The eye detects no joint in her skin plating save the sweeping +hair-crack of the bow-rudder--Magniac's rudder that assured us +the dominion of the unstable air and left its inventor penniless +and half-blind. It is calculated to Castelli's "gullwing" curve. +Raise a few feet of that all but invisible plate three-eighths of +an inch and she will yaw five miles to port or starboard ere she +is under control again. Give her full helm and she returns on her +track like a whip-lash. Cant the whole forward--a touch on the +wheel will suffice--and she sweeps at your good direction up or +down. Open the complete circle and she presents to the air a +mushroom-head that will bring her up all standing within a half +mile. + +"Yes," says Captain Hodgson, answering my thought, "Castelli +thought he'd discovered the secret of controlling aeroplanes when +he'd only found out how to steer dirigible balloons. Magniac +invented his rudder to help war-boats ram each other; and war +went out of fashion and Magniac he went out of his mind because +he said he couldn't serve his country any more. I wonder if any +of us ever know what we're really doing." + +"If you want to see the coach locked you'd better go aboard. It's +due now," says Mr. Geary. I enter through the door amidships. +There is nothing here for display. The inner skin of the +gas-tanks comes down to within a foot or two of my head and turns +over just short of the turn of the bilges. Liners and yachts +disguise their tanks with decoration, but the G.P.O. serves them +raw under a lick of grey official paint. The inner skin shuts off +fifty feet of the bow and as much of the stern, but the +bow-bulkhead is recessed for the lift-shunting apparatus as the +stern is pierced for the shaft-tunnels. The engine-room lies +almost amidships. Forward of it, extending to the turn of the bow +tanks, is an aperture--a bottomless hatch at present--into which +our coach will be locked. One looks down over the coamings three +hundred feet to the despatching-caisson whence voices boom +upward. The light below is obscured to a sound of thunder, as our +coach rises on its guides. It enlarges rapidly from a +postage-stamp to a playing-card; to a punt and last a pontoon. +The two clerks, its crew, do not even look up as it comes into +place. The Quebec letters fly under their fingers and leap into +the docketed racks, while both captains and Mr. Geary satisfy +them selves that the coach is locked home. A clerk passes the +way-bill over the hatch coaming. Captain Purnall thumb-marks and +passes it to Mr. Geary. Receipt has been given and taken. +"Pleasant run," says Mr. Geary, and disappears through the door +which a foot high pneumatic compressor locks after him. + +"A-ah!" sighs the compressor released. Our holding-down clips +part with a tang. We are clear. + +Captain Hodgson opens the great colloid underbody porthole +through which I watch over-lighted London slide eastward as the +gale gets hold of us. The first of the low winter clouds cuts off +the well-known view and darkens Middlesex. On the south edge of +it I can see a postal packet's light ploughing through the white +fleece. For an instant she gleams like a star ere she drops +toward the Highgate Receiving Towers. "The Bombay Mail," says +Captain Hodgson, and looks at his watch. "She's forty minutes +late." + +"What's our level?" I ask. + +"Four thousand. Aren't you coming up on the bridge?" + +The bridge (let us ever praise the G.P.O. as a repository of +ancientest tradition!) is represented by a view of Captain +Hodgson's legs where he stands on the Control Platform that runs +thwart-ships overhead. The bow colloid is unshuttered and Captain +Purnall, one hand on the wheel, is feeling for a fair slant. The +dial shows 4300 feet. "It's steep to-night," he mutters, as tier +on tier of cloud drops under. "We generally pick up an easterly +draught below three thousand at this time o' the year. I hate +slathering through fluff." + +"So does Van Cutsem. Look at him huntin' for a slant!" says +Captain Hodgson. A foglight breaks cloud a hundred fathoms below. +The Antwerp Night Mail makes her signal and rises between two +racing clouds far to port, her flanks blood-red in the glare of +Sheerness Double Light. The gale will have us over the North Sea +in half-an-hour, but Captain Purnall lets her go +composedly--nosing to every point of the compass as she rises. + +"Five thousand-six, six thousand eight hundred"--the dip-dial +reads ere we find the easterly drift, heralded by a flurry of +snow at the thousand fathom level. Captain Purnall rings up the +engines and keys down the governor on the switch before him. +There is no sense in urging machinery when Eolus himself gives +you good knots for nothing. We are away in earnest now--our nose +notched home on our chosen star. At this level the lower clouds +are laid out, all neatly combed by the dry fingers of the East. +Below that again is the strong westerly blow through which we +rose. Overhead, a film of southerly drifting mist draws a +theatrical gauze across the firmament. The moonlight turns the +lower strata to silver without a stain except where our shadow +underruns us. Bristol and Cardiff Double Lights (those statelily +inclined beams over Severnmouth) are dead ahead of us; for we +keep the Southern Winter Route. Coventry Central, the pivot of +the English system, stabs upward once in ten seconds its spear of +diamond light to the north; and a point or two off our starboard +bow The Leek, the great cloud-breaker of Saint David's Head, +swings its unmistakable green beam twenty-five degrees each way. +There must be half a mile of fluff over it in this weather, but +it does not affect The Leek. + +"Our planet's over-lighted if anything," says Captain Purnall at +the wheel, as Cardiff-Bristol slides under. "I remember the old +days of common white verticals that 'ud show two or three hundred +feet up in a mist, if you knew where to look for 'em. In really +fluffy weather they might as well have been under your hat. One +could get lost coming home then, an' have some fun. Now, it's +like driving down Piccadilly." + +He points to the pillars of light where the cloud-breakers bore +through the cloud-floor. We see nothing of England's outlines: +only a white pavement pierced in all directions by these manholes +of variously coloured fire--Holy Island's white and red--St. +Bee's interrupted white, and so on as far as the eye can reach. +Blessed be Sargent, Ahrens, and the Dubois brothers, who invented +the cloud-breakers of the world whereby we travel in security! + +"Are you going to lift for The Shamrock?" asks Captain Hodgson. +Cork Light (green, fixed) enlarges as we rush to it. Captain +Purnall nods. There is heavy traffic hereabouts--the cloud-bank +beneath us is streaked. with running fissures of flame where the +Atlantic boats are hurrying Londonward just clear of the fluff. +Mail-packets are supposed, under the Conference rules, to have +the five-thousand-foot lanes to themselves, but the foreigner in +a hurry is apt to take liberties with English air. "No. 162" +lifts to a long-drawn wail of the breeze in the fore-flange of +the rudder and we make Valencia (white, green, white) at a safe +7000 feet, dipping our beam to an incoming Washington packet. + +There is no cloud on the Atlantic, and faint streaks of cream +round Dingle Bay show where the driven seas hammer the coast. A +big S.A.T.A. liner (Societe Anonyme des Transports Aeriens) is +diving and lifting half a mile below us in search of some break +in the solid west wind. Lower still lies a disabled Dane she is +telling the liner all about it in International. Our General +Communication dial has caught her talk and begins to eavesdrop. +Captain Hodgson makes a motion to shut it off but checks himself. +"Perhaps you'd like to listen," he says. + +"Argol of St. Thomas," the Dane whimpers. "Report owners three +starboard shaft collar-bearings fused. Can make Flores as we are, +but impossible further. Shall we buy spares at Fayal?" + +The liner acknowledges and recommends inverting the bearings. The +Argol answers that she has already done so without effect, and +begins to relieve her mind about cheap German enamels for +collar-bearings. The Frenchman assents cordially, cries "Courage, +mon ami," and switches off. + +Then lights sink under the curve of the ocean. + +"That's one of Lundt & Bleamers' boats," says Captain Hodgson. +"Serves 'em right for putting German compos in their +thrust-blocks. She won't be in Fayal to-night! By the way, +wouldn't you like to look round the engine-room?" + +I have been waiting eagerly for this invitation and I follow +Captain Hodgson from the control-platform, stooping low to avoid +the bulge of the tanks. We know that Fleury's gas can lift +anything, as the world-famous trials of '89 showed, but its +almost indefinite powers of expansion necessitate vast tank room. +Even in this thin air the lift-shunts are busy taking out +one-third of its normal lift, and still "162" must be checked by +an occasional downdraw of the rudder or our flight would become a +climb to the stars. Captain Purnall prefers an overlifted to an +underlifted ship; but no two captains trim ship alike. "When I +take the bridge," says Captain Hodgson, "you'll see me shunt +forty per cent of the lift out of the gas and run her on the +upper rudder. With a swoop upward instead of a swoop downward, as +you say. Either way will do. It's only habit. Watch our dip-dial! +Tim fetches her down once every thirty knots as regularly as +breathing." + +So is it shown on the dip-dial. For five or six minutes the arrow +creeps from 6700 to 7300. There is the faint "szgee" of the +rudder, and back slides the arrow to 6000 on a falling slant of +ten or fifteen knots. + +"In heavy weather you jockey her with the screws as well," says +Captain Hodgson, and, unclipping the jointed bar which divides +the engine-room from the bare deck, he leads me on to the floor. +Here we find Fleury's Paradox of the Bulk-headed Vacuum--which we +accept now without thought--literally in full blast. The three +engines are H.T.&T. assisted-vacuo Fleury turbines running from +3000 to the Limit--that is to say, up to the point when the +blades make the air "bell"--cut out a vacuum for themselves +precisely as over-driven marine propellers used to do. "162's" +Limit is low on account of the small size of her nine screws, +which, though handier than the old colloid Thelussons, "bell" +sooner. The midships engine, generally used as a reinforce, is +not running; so the port and starboard turbine vacuum-chambers +draw direct into the return-mains. + +The turbines whistle reflectively. From the low-arched +expansion-tanks on either side the valves descend pillarwise to +the turbine-chests, and thence the obedient gas whirls through +the spirals of blades with a force that would whip the teeth out +of a power saw. Behind, is its own pressure held in leash of +spurred on by the lift-shunts; before it, the vacuum where +Fleury's Ray dances in violet-green bands and whirled turbillons +of flame. The jointed U-tubes of the vacuum-chamber are +pressure-tempered colloid (no glass would endure the strain for +an instant) and a junior engineer with tinted spectacles watches +the Ray intently. It is the very heart of the machine--a mystery +to this day. Even Fleury who begat it and, unlike Magniac, died a +multi-millionaire, could not explain how the restless little imp +shuddering in the U-tube can, in the fractional fraction of a +second, strike the furious blast of gas into a chill +greyish-green liquid that drains (you can hear it trickle) from +the far end of the vacuum through the eduction-pipes and the +mains back to the bilges. Here it returns to its gaseous, one had +almost written sagacious, state and climbs to work afresh. +Bilge-tank, upper tank, dorsal-tank, expansion-chamber, vacuum, +main-return (as a liquid), and bilge-tank once more is the +ordained cycle. Fleury's Ray sees to that; and the engineer with +the tinted spectacles sees to Fleury's Ray. If a speck of oil, if +even the natural grease of the human finger touch the hooded +terminals, Fleury's Ray will wink and disappear and must be +laboriously built up again. This means half a day's work for all +hands and an expense of, one hundred and seventy-odd pounds to +the G.P.O. for radium-salts and such trifles. + +"Now look at our thrust-collars. You won't find much German compo +there. Full-jewelled, you see," says Captain Hodgson as the +engineer shunts open the top of a cap. Our shaft-bearings are +C.M.C. (Commercial Minerals Company) stones, ground with as much +care as the lens of a telescope. They cost L837 apiece. So far we +have not arrived at their term of life. These bearings came from +"No. 97," which took them over from the old Dominion of Light +which had them out of the wreck of the Persew aeroplane in the +years when men still flew wooden kites over oil engines! + +They are a shining reproof to all low-grade German "ruby" +enamels, so-called "boort" facings, and the dangerous and +unsatisfactory alumina compounds which please dividend-hunting +owners and turn skippers crazy. The rudder-gear and the gas +lift-shunt, seated side by side under the engine-room dials, are +the only machines in visible motion. The former sighs from time +to time as the oil plunger rises and falls half an inch. The +latter, cased and guarded like the U-tube aft, exhibits another +Fleury Ray, but inverted and more green than violet. Its function +is to shunt the lift out of the gas, and this it will do without +watching. That is all! A tiny pump-rod wheezing and whining to +itself beside a sputtering green lamp. A hundred and fifty feet +aft down the flat-topped tunnel of the tanks a violet light, +restless and irresolute. Between the two, three white-painted +turbine-trunks, like eel-baskets laid on their side, accentuate +the empty perspectives. You can hear the trickle of the liquefied +gas flowing from the vacuum into the bilge-tanks and the soft +gluck-glock of gaslocks closing as Captain Purnall brings "162" +down by the head. The hum of the turbines and the boom of the air +on our skin is no more than a cotton-wool wrapping to the +universal stillness. And we are running an eighteen-second mile. + +I peer from the fore end of the engine-room over the +hatch-coamings into the coach. The mail-clerks are sorting the +Winnipeg, Calgary, and Medicine Hat bags; but there is a pack of +cards ready on the table. + +Suddenly a bell thrills; the engineers run to the turbine-valves +and stand by; but the spectacled slave of the Ray in the U-tube +never lifts his head. He must watch where he is. We are +hard-braked and going astern; there is language from the Control +Platform. + +"Tim's sparking badly about something," says the unruffled +Captain Hodgson. "Let's look." + +Captain Purnall is not the suave man we left half an hour since, +but the embodied authority of the G.P.O. Ahead of us floats an +ancient, aluminum-patched, twin-screw tramp of the dingiest, with +no more right to the 5000-foot lane than has a horse-cart to a +modern road. She carries an obsolete "barbette" conning tower--a +six-foot affair with railed platform forward--and our warning +beam plays on the top of it as a policeman's lantern flashes on +the area sneak. Like a sneak-thief, too, emerges a shock-headed +navigator in his shirt-sleeves. Captain Purnall wrenches open the +colloid to talk with him man to man. There are times when Science +does not satisfy. + +"What under the stars are you doing here, you sky-scraping +chimney-sweep?" he shouts as we two drift side by side. "Do you +know this is a Mail-lane? You call yourself a sailor, sir? You +ain't fit to peddle toy balloons to an Esquimaux. Your name and +number! Report and get down, and be--!" + +"I've been blown up once," the shock-headed man cries, hoarsely, +as a dog barking. "I don't care two flips of a contact for +anything you can do, Postey." + +"Don't you, sir? But I'll make you care. I'll have you towed +stern first to Disko and broke up. You can't recover insurance if +you're broke for obstruction. Do you understand that?" + +Then the stranger bellows: "Look at my propellers! There's been a +wulli-wa down below that has knocked us into umbrella-frames! +We've been blown up about forty thousand feet! We're all one +conjuror's watch inside! My mate's arm's broke; my engineer's +head's cut open; my Ray went out when the engines smashed; and +... and ... for pity's sake give me my height, Captain! We doubt +we're dropping." + +"Six thousand eight hundred. Can you hold it?" Captain Purnall +overlooks all insults, and leans half out of the colloid, staring +and snuffing. The stranger leaks pungently. + +"We ought to blow into St. John's with luck. We're trying to plug +the fore-tank now, but she's simply whistling it away," her +captain wails. + +"She's sinking like a log," says Captain Purnall in an undertone. +"Call up the Banks Mark Boat, George." Our dip-dial shows that +we, keeping abreast the tramp, have dropped five hundred feet the +last few minutes. + +Captain Purnall presses a switch and our signal beam begins to +swing through the night, twizzling spokes of light across +infinity. + +"That'll fetch something," he says, while Captain Hodgson watches +the General Communicator. He has called up the North Banks Mark +Boat, a few hundred miles west, and is reporting the case. + +"I'll stand by you," Captain Purnall roars to the lone figure on +the conning-tower. + +"Is it as bad as that?" comes the answer. "She isn't insured. +She's mine." + +"Might have guessed as much," mutters Hodgson. "Owner's risk is +the worst risk of all!" + +"Can't I fetch St. John's--not even with this breeze?" the voice +quavers. + +"Stand by to abandon ship. Haven't you any lift in you, fore or +aft?" + +"Nothing but the midship tanks, and they're none too tight. You +see, my Ray gave out and--" he coughs in the reek of the escaping +gas. + +"You poor devil!" This does not reach our friend. "What does the +Mark Boat say, George?" + +"Wants to know if there's any danger to traffic. Says she's in a +bit of weather herself, and can't quit station. I've turned in a +General Call, so even if they don't see our beam some one's bound +to help--or else we must. Shall I clear our slings? Hold on! Here +we are! A Planet liner, too! She'll be up in a tick!" + +"Tell her to have her slings ready," cries his brother captain. +"There won't be much time to spare ... Tie up your mate," he +roars to the tramp. + +"My mate's all right. It's my engineer. He's gone crazy." + +"Shunt the lift out of him with a spanner. Hurry!" + +"But I can make St. John's if you'll stand by." + +"You'll make the deep, wet Atlantic in twenty minutes. You're +less than fifty-eight hundred now. Get your papers." + +A Planet liner, east bound, heaves up in a superb spiral and +takes the air of us humming. Her underbody colloid is open land +her transporter-slings hang down like tentacles. We shut off our +beam as she adjusts herself--steering to a hair--over the tramp's +conning-tower. The mate comes up, his arm strapped to his side, +and stumbles into the cradle. A man with a ghastly scarlet head +follows, shouting that he must go back and build up his Ray. The +mate assures him that he will find a nice new Ray all ready in +the liner's engine-room. The bandaged head goes up wagging +excitedly. A youth and a woman follow. The liner cheers hollowly +above us, and we see the passengers' faces at the saloon colloid. + +"That's a pretty girl. What's the fool waiting for now?" says +Captain Purnall. + +The skipper comes up, still appealing to us to stand by and see +him fetch St. John's. He dives below and returns--at which we +little human beings in the void cheer louder than ever--with the +ship's kitten. Up fly the liner's hissing slings; her underbody +crashes home and she hurtles away again. The dial shows less than +3000 feet. The Mark Boat signals we must attend to the derelict, +now whistling her death-song, as she falls beneath us in long +sick zigzags. + +"Keep our beam on her and send out a General Warning," says +Captain Purnall, following her down. There is no need. Not a +liner in air but knows the meaning of that vertical beam and +gives us and our quarry a wide berth. + +"But she'll drown in the water, won't she?" I ask. "Not always," +is his answer. "I've known a derelict up-end and sift her engines +out of herself and flicker round the Lower Lanes for three weeks +on her forward tanks only. We'll run no risks. Pith her, George, +and look sharp. There's weather ahead." + +Captain Hodgson opens the underbody colloid, swings the heavy +pithing-iron out of its rack which in liners is generally cased +as a smoking-room settee, and at two hundred feet releases the +catch. We hear the whir of the crescent-shaped arms opening as +they descend. The derelict's forehead is punched in, starred +across, and rent diagonally. She falls stern first, our beam upon +her; slides like a lost soul down that pitiless ladder of light, +and the Atlantic takes her. + +"A filthy business," says Hodgson. "I wonder what it must have +been like in the old days?" + +The thought had crossed my mind, too. What if that wavering +carcass had been filled with the men of the old days, each one of +them taught (that is the horror of it!) that, after death he +would very possibly go for ever to unspeakable torment? + +And scarcely a generation ago, we (one knows now that we are only +our fathers re-enlarged upon the earth), we, I say, ripped and +rammed and pithed to admiration. + +Here Tim, from the Control Platform, shouts that we are to get +into our inflators and to bring him his at once. + +We hurry into the heavy rubber suits--the engineers are already +dressed--and inflate at the air-pump taps. G.P.O. inflators are +thrice as thick as a racing man's "flickers," and chafe +abominably under the armpits. George takes the wheel until Tim +has blown himself up to the extreme of rotundity. If you kicked +him off the c. p. to the deck he would bounce back. But it is +"162" that will do the kicking. + +"The Mark Boat's mad--stark ravin' crazy," he snorts, returning +to command. "She says there's a bad blow-out ahead and wants me +to pull over to Greenland. I'll see her pithed first! We wasted +half an hour fussing over that dead duck down under, and now I'm +expected to go rubbin' my back all round the Pole. What does she +think a Postal packet's made of? Gummed silk? Tell her we're +coming on straight, George." + +George buckles him into the Frame and switches on the Direct +Control. Now under Tim's left toe lies the port-engine +Accelerator; under his left heel the Reverse, and so with the +other foot. The lift-shunt stops stand out on the rim of the +steering-wheel where the fingers of his left hand can play on +them. At his right hand is the midships engine lever ready to be +thrown into gear at a moment's notice. He leans forward in his +belt, eyes glued to the colloid, and one ear cocked toward the +General Communicator. Henceforth he is the strength and direction +of "162," through whatever may befall. + +The Banks Mark Boat is reeling out pages of A. B. .C. Directions +to the traffic at large. We are to secure all "loose objects"; +hood up our Fleury Rays; and "on no account to attempt to clear +snow from our conning-towers till the weather abates." +Under-powered craft, we are told, can ascend to the limit of +their lift, mail-packets to look out for them accordingly; the +lower lanes westward are pitting very badly, "with frequent +blow-outs, vortices, laterals, etc." + +Still the clear dark holds up unblemished. The only warning is +the electric skin-tension (I feel as though I were a lace-maker's +pillow) and an irritability which the gibbering of the General +Communicator increases almost to hysteria. + +We have made eight thousand feet since we pithed the tramp and +our turbines are giving us an honest two hundred and ten knots. + +Very far to the west an elongated blur of red, low down, shows us +the North Banks Mark Boat. There are specks of fire round her +rising and falling--bewildered planets about an unstable +sun--helpless shipping hanging on to her light for company's +sake. No wonder she could not quit station. + +She warns us to look out for the back-wash of the bad vortex in +which (her beam shows it) she is even now reeling. + +The pits of gloom about us begin to fill with very faintly +luminous films--wreathing and uneasy shapes. One forms itself +into a globe of pale flame that waits shivering with eagerness +till we sweep by. It leaps monstrously across the blackness, +alights on the precise tip of our nose, pirouettes there an +instant, and swings off. Our roaring bow sinks as though that +light were lead--sinks and recovers to lurch and stumble again +beneath the next blow-out. Tim's fingers on the lift-shunt strike +chords of numbers--1:4:7:--2:4:6:--7:5:3, and so on; for he is +running by his tanks only, lifting or lowering her against the +uneasy air. All three engines are at work, for the sooner we have +skated over this thin ice the better. Higher we dare not go. The +whole upper vault is charged with pale krypton vapours, which our +skin friction may excite to unholy manifestations. Between the +upper and lower levels--5000 and 7000, hints the Mark Boat--we +may perhaps bolt through if ... Our bow clothes itself in blue +flame and falls like a sword. No human skill can keep pace with +the changing tensions. A vortex has us by the beak and we dive +down a two-thousand foot slant at an angle (the dip-dial and my +bouncing body record it) of thirty-five. Our turbines scream +shrilly; the propellers cannot bite on the thin air; Tim shunts +the lift out of five tanks at once and by sheer weight drives her +bullet wise through the maelstrom till she cushions with jar on +an up-gust, three thousand feet below. + +"Now we've done it," says George in my ear: "Our skin-friction, +that last slide, has played Old Harry with the tensions! Look out +for laterals, Tim; she'll want some holding." + +"I've got her," is the answer. "Come up, old woman." + +She comes up nobly, but the laterals buffet her left and right +like the pinions of angry angels. She is jolted off her course +four ways at once, and cuffed into place again, only to be swung +aside and dropped into a new chaos. We are never without a +corposant grinning on our bows or rolling head over heels from +nose to midships, and to the crackle of electricity around and +within us is added once or twice the rattle of hail--hail that +will never fall on any sea. Slow we must or we may break our +back, pitch-poling. + +"Air's a perfectly elastic fluid," roars George above the tumult. +"About as elastic as a head sea off the Fastnet, ain't it?" + +He is less than just to the good element. If one intrudes on the +Heavens when they are balancing their volt-accounts; if one +disturbs the High Gods' market-rates by hurling steel hulls at +ninety knots across tremblingly adjusted electric tensions, one +must not complain of any rudeness in the reception. Tim met it +with an unmoved countenance, one corner of his under lip caught +up on a tooth, his eyes fleeting into the blackness twenty miles +ahead, and the fierce sparks flying from his knuckles at every +turn of the hand. Now and again he shook his head to clear the +sweat trickling from his eyebrows, and it was then that George, +watching his chance, would slide down the life-rail and swab his +face quickly with a big red handkerchief. I never imagined that a +human being could so continuously labour and so collectedly think +as did Tim through that Hell's half-hour when the flurry was at +its worst. We were dragged hither and yon by warm or, frozen +suctions, belched up on the tops of wulii-was, spun down by +vortices and clubbed aside by laterals under a dizzying rush of +stars in the, company of a drunken moon. + +I heard the rushing click of the midship-engine-lever sliding in +and out, the low growl of the lift-shunts, and, louder than the +yelling winds without, the scream of the bow-rudder gouging into +any lull that promised hold for an instant. At last we began to +claw up on a cant, bow-rudder and port-propeller together; only +the nicest balancing of tanks saved us from spinning like the +rifle-bullet of the old days. + +"We've got to hitch to windward of that Mark Boat somehow," +George cried. + +"There's no windward," I protested feebly, where I swung shackled +to a stanchion. "How can there be?" + +He laughed--as we pitched into a thousand foot blow-out--that red +man laughed beneath his inflated hood! + +"Look!" he said. "We must clear those refugees with a high lift." + +The Mark Boat was below and a little to the sou'west of us, +fluctuating in the centre of her distraught galaxy. The air was +thick with moving lights at every level. I take it most of them +were trying to lie head to wind, but, not being hydras, they +failed. An under-tanked Moghrabi boat had risen to the limit of +her lift, and, finding no improvement, had dropped a couple of +thousand. There she met a superb wulli-wa, and was blown up +spinning like a dead leaf. Instead of shutting off she went +astern and, naturally, rebounded as from a wall almost into the +Mark Boat, whose language (our G. C. took it in) was humanly +simple. + +"If they'd only ride it out quietly it 'ud be better," said +George in a calm, while we climbed like a bat above them all. +"But some skippers -will navigate without enough lift. What does +that Tad-boat think she is doing, Tim?" + +"Playin' kiss in the ring," was Tim's unmoved reply. A +Trans-Asiatic Direct liner had found a smooth and butted into it +full power. But there was a vortex at the tail of that smooth, so +the T. A. D. was flipped out like a pea from off a finger-nail, +braking madly as she fled down and all but over-ending. + +"Now I hope she's satisfied," said Tim. "I'm glad I'm not a Mark +Boat . . . Do I want help?" The General Communicator dial had +caught his ear. "George, you may tell that gentleman with my +love--love, remember, George--that I do not want help. Who is the +officious sardine-tin?" + +"A Rimouski drogher on the look-out for a tow." + +"Very kind of the Rimouski drogher. This postal packet isn't +being towed at present." + +"Those droghers will go anywhere on a chance of salvage," George +explained. "We call' em kittiwakes." + +A long-beaked, bright steel ninety-footer floated at ease for one +instant within hail of us, her slings coiled ready for rescues, +and a single hand in her open tower. He was smoking. Surrendered +to the insurrection of the airs through which we tore our way, he +lay in absolute peace. I saw the smoke of his pipe ascend +untroubled ere his boat dropped, it seemed, like a stone in a +well. + +We had just cleared the Mark Boat and her disorderly neighbours +when the storm ended as suddenly as it had begun. A shooting-star +to northward filled the sky with the green blink of a meteorite +dissipating itself in our atmosphere. + +Said George: "That may iron out all the tensions." Even as he +spoke, the conflicting winds came to rest; the levels filled; the +laterals died out in long, easy swells; the air-ways were +smoothed before us. In less than three minutes the covey round +the Mark Boat had shipped their power-lights and whirred away +upon their businesses. + +"What's happened?" I gasped. The nerve-store within and the +volt-tingle without had passed: my inflators weighed like lead. + +"God, He knows!" said Captain George soberly "That old +shooting-star's skin-friction has discharged the different +levels. I've seen it happen before. Phew: What a relief!" + +We dropped from ten to six thousand and got rid of our clammy +suits. Tim shut off and stepped out of the Frame. The Mark Boat +was coming up behind us. He opened the colloid in that heavenly +stillness and mopped his face. + +"Hello, Williams!" he cried. "A degree or two out o' station, +ain't you?" + +"May be," was the answer from the Mark Boat. "I've had some +company this evening." + +"So I noticed. Wasn't that quite a little draught?" + +"I warned you. Why didn't you pull out north? The east-bound +packets have." + +"Me? Not till I'm running a Polar consumptives' sanatorium boat. +I was squinting through a colloid before you were out of your +cradle, my son." + +"I'd be the last man to deny it," the captain of the Mark Boat +replies softly. "The way you handled her just now--I'm a pretty +fair judge of traffic in a volt-hurry--it was a thousand +revolutions beyond anything even I've ever seen." + +Tim's back supples visibly to this oiling. Captain George on the +c. p. winks and points to the portrait of a singularly attractive +maiden pinned up on Tim's telescope bracket above the +steering-wheel. + +I see. Wholly and entirely do I see! + +There is some talk overhead of "coming round to tea on Friday," a +brief report of the derelict's fate, and Tim volunteers as he +descends: "For an A. B. C. man young Williams is less of a +high-tension fool than some. Were you thinking of taking her on, +George? Then I'll just have a look round that port-thrust seems +to me it's a trifle warm--and we'll jog along." + +The Mark Boat hums off joyously and hangs herself up in her +appointed eyrie. Here she will stay a shutterless observatory; a +life-boat station; a salvage tug; a court of ultimate +appeal-cum-meteorological bureau for three hundred miles in all +directions, till Wednesday next when her relief slides across the +stars to take her buffeted place. Her black hull, double +conning-tower, and ever-ready slings represent all that remains +to the planet of that odd old word authority. She is responsible +only to the Aerial Board of Control the A. B. C. of which Tim +speaks so flippantly. But that semi-elected, semi-nominated body +of a few score of persons of both sexes, controls this planet. +"Transportation is Civilisation," our motto runs. Theoretically, +we do what we please so long as we do not interfere with the +traffic AND ALL IT IMPLIES. Practically , the A. B. C. confirms +or annuls all international arrangements and, to judge from its +last report, finds our tolerant, humorous, lazy little planet +only too ready to shift the whole burden of public administration +on its shoulders. + +I discuss this with Tim, sipping mate on the c. p. while George +fans her along over the white blur of the Banks in beautiful +upward curves of fifty miles each. The dip-dial translates them +on the tape in flowing freehand. + +Tim gathers up a skein of it and surveys the last few feet, which +record "162's" path through the volt-flurry. + +"I haven't had a fever-chart like this to show up in five years," +he says ruefully. + +A postal packet's dip-dial records every yard of every run. The +tapes then go to the A. B. C., which collates and makes composite +photographs of them for the instruction of captains. Tim studies +his irrevocable past, shaking his head. + +"Hello! Here's a fifteen-hundred-foot drop at fifty-five degrees! +We must have been standing on our heads then, George." + +"You don't say so," George answers. "I fancied I noticed it at +the time." + +George may not have Captain Purnall's catlike swiftness, but he +is all an artist to the tips of the broad fingers that play on +the shunt-stops. The delicious flight-curves come away on the +tape with never a waver. The Mark Boat's vertical spindle of +light lies down to eastward, setting in the face of the following +stars. Westward, where no planet should rise, the triple +verticals of Trinity Bay (we keep still to the Southern route) +make a low-lifting haze. We seem the only thing at rest under all +the heavens; floating at ease till the earth's revolution shall +turn up our landing-towers. + +And minute by minute our silent clock gives us a sixteen-second +mile. + +"Some fine night," says Tim, "we'll be even with that clock's +Master." + +"He's coming now," says George, over his shoulder. "I'm chasing +the night west." + +The stars ahead dim no more than if a film of mist had been drawn +under unobserved, but the deep airboom on our skin changes to a +joyful shout. + +"The dawn-gust," says Tim. "It'll go on to meet the Sun. Look! +Look! There's the dark being crammed back over our bows! Come to +the after-colloid. I'll show you something." + +The engine-room is hot and stuffy; the clerks in the coach are +asleep, and the Slave of the Ray is ready to follow them. Tim +slides open the aft colloid and reveals the curve of the +world--the ocean's deepest purple--edged with fuming and +intolerable gold. + +Then the Sun rises and through the colloid strikes out our lamps. +Tim scowls in his face. + +"Squirrels in a cage," he mutters. "That's all we are. Squirrels +in a cage! He's going twice as fast as us. Just you wait a few +years, my shining friend, and we'll take steps that will amaze +you. We'll Joshua you!" + +Yes, that is our dream: to turn all earth into the Yale of Ajalon +at our pleasure. So far, we can drag out the dawn to twice its +normal length in these latitudes. But some day--even on the +Equator--we shall hold the Sun level in his full stride. + +Now we look down on a sea thronged with heavy traffic. A big +submersible breaks water suddenly. Another and another follows +with a swash and a suck and a savage bubbling of relieved +pressures. The deep-sea freighters are rising to lung up after +the long night, and the leisurely ocean is all patterned with +peacock's eyes of foam. + +"We'll lung up, too," says Tim, and when we return to the c. p. +George shuts off, the colloids are opened, and the fresh air +sweeps her out. There is no hurry. The old contracts (they will +be revised at the end of the year) allow twelve hours for a run +which any packet can put behind her in ten. So we breakfast in +the arms of an easterly slant which pushes us along at a languid +twenty. + +To enjoy life, and tobacco, begin both on a sunny morning half a +mile or so above the dappled Atlantic cloud-belts and after a +volt-flurry which has cleared and tempered your nerves. While we +discussed the thickening traffic with the superiority that comes +of having a high level reserved to ourselves, we heard (and I for +the first time) the morning hymn on a Hospital boat. + +She was cloaked by a skein of ravelled fluff beneath us and we +caught the chant before she rose into the sunlight. "Oh, ye Winds +of God," sang the unseen voices: "bless ye the Lord! Praise Him +and magnify Him for ever!" + +We slid off our caps and joined in. When our shadow fell across +her great open platforms they looked up and stretched out their +hands neighbourly while they sang. We could see the doctors and +the nurses and the white-button-like faces of the cot-patients. +She passed slowly beneath us, heading northward, her hull, wet +with the dews of the night, all ablaze in the sunshine. So took +she the shadow of a cloud and vanished, her song continuing. "Oh, +ye holy and humble men of heart, bless ye the Lord! Praise Him +and magnify Him for ever." + +"She's a public lunger or she wouldn't have been singing the +Benedicite; and she's a Greenlander or she wouldn't have +snow-blinds over her colloids," said George at last. "She'll be +bound for Frederikshavn or one of the Glacier sanatoriums for a +month. + +If she was an accident ward she'd be hung up at the +eight-thousand-foot level. Yes--consumptives." + +"Funny how the new things are the old thing I've read in books," +Tim answered, "that savages used to haul their sick and wounded +up to the tops of hills because microbes were fewer there. We +hoist 'em in sterilized air for a while. Same idea. How much do +the doctors say we've added to the average life of man?" + +"Thirty years," says George with a twinkle in his eye. "Are we +going to spend 'em all up here, Tim?" + +"Flap ahead, then. Flap ahead. Who's hindering?" the senior +captain laughed, as we went in. + +We held a good lift to clear the coastwise and Continental +shipping; and we had need of it. Though our route is in no sense +a populated one, there is a steady trickle of traffic this way +along. We met Hudson Bay furriers out of the Great Preserve, +hurrying to make their departure from Bonavista with sable and +black fox for the insatiable markets. We overcossed Keewatin +liners, small and cramped; but their captains, who see no land +between Trepassy and Lanco, know what gold they bring back from +West Erica. Trans-Asiatic Directs we met, soberly ringing the +world round the Fiftieth Meridian at an honest seventy knots; and +white-painted Ackroyd & Hunt fruiters out of the south fled +beneath us, their ventilated hulls whistling like Chinese kites. +Their market is in the North among the northern sanatoria where +you can smell their grape-fruit and bananas across the cold +snows. Argentine beef boats we sighted too, of enormous capacity +and unlovely outline. They, too, feed the northern health +stations in icebound ports where submersibles dare not rise. + +Yellow-bellied ore-flats and Ungava petrol-tanks punted down +leisurely out of the north, like strings of unfrightened wild +duck. It does not pay to "fly" minerals and oil a mile farther +than is necessary; but the risks of transhipping to submersibles +in the ice pack off Nain or Hebron are so great that these heavy +freighters fly down to Halifax direct, and scent the air as they +go. They are the biggest tramps aloft except the Athabasca +grain-tubs. But these last, now that the wheat is moved, are +busy, over the world's shoulder, timber-lifting in Siberia. + +We held to the St. Lawrence (it is astonishing how the old +water-ways still pull us children of the air), and followed his +broad line of black between its drifting iceblocks, all down the +Park that the wisdom of our fathers--but every one knows the +Quebec run. + +We dropped to the Heights Receiving Towers twenty minutes ahead +of time, and there hung at ease till the Yokohama Intermediate +Packet could pull out and give us our proper slip. It was curious +to watch the action of the holding-down clips all along the +frosty river front as the boats cleared or came to rest. A big +Hamburger was leaving Pont Levis and her crew, unshipping the +platform railings, began to sing "Elsinore"--the oldest of our +chanteys. You know it of course: + + Mother Rugen's tea-house on the Baltic + Forty couple waltzing on the floor! + And you can watch my Ray, + For I must go away + And dance with Ella Sweyn at Elsinore! + +Then, while they sweated home the covering-plates: + + Nor-Nor-Nor-Nor + West from Sourabaya to the Baltic-- + Ninety knot an hour to the Skaw! + Mother Rugen's tea-house on the Baltic + And a dance with Ella Sweyn at Elsinore! + +The clips parted with a gesture of indignant dismissal, as though +Quebec, glittering under her snows, were casting out these light +and unworthy lovers. Our signal came from the Heights. Tim turned +and floated up, but surely then it was with passionate appeal +that the great tower arms flung open--or did I think so because +on the upper staging a little hooded figure also opened her arms +wide toward her father? + + * * * * * * * * + +In ten seconds the coach with its clerks clashed down to the +receiving-caisson; the hostlers displaced the engineers at the +idle turbines, and Tim, prouder of this than all, introduced me +to the maiden of the photograph on the shelf. "And by the way," +said he to her, stepping forth in sunshine under the hat of civil +life, "I saw young Williams in the Mark Boat. I've asked him to +tea on Friday." + + + + AERIAL BOARD OF CONTROL + + Lights + +No changes in English Inland lights for week ending Dec. 18th. + +CAPE VERDE--Week ending Dec. 18. Verde inclined guide-light +changes from 1st proximo to triple flash--green white green--in +place of occulting red as heretofore. The warning light for +Harmattan winds will be continuous vertical glare (white) on all +oases of trans-Saharan N. E. by E. Main Routes. + +INVERCARGIL (N. Z.)--From 1st prox.: extreme southerly light +(double red) will exhibit white beam inclined 45 degrees on +approach of Southerly Buster. Traffic flies high off this coast +between April and October. + +TABLE BAY--Devil's Peak Glare removed to Simonsberg. Traffic +making Table Mountain coastwise keep all lights from Three Anchor +Bay at least two thousand feet under, and do not round to till +East of E. shoulder Devil's Peak. + +SANDHEADS LIGHT -Green triple vertical marks new private +landing-stage for Bay and Burma traffic only. + +SNAEFELL JOKUL--White occulting light withdrawn for winter. + +PATAGONIA--No summer light south Cape Pilar. This includes Staten +Island and Port Stanley. + +C. NAVARIN--Quadruple fog flash (white), one minute intervals +(new). + +EAST CAPE--Fog--flash -single white with single bomb, 30 sec. +intervals (new). + +MALAYAN ARCHIPELAGO--Lights unreliable owing eruptions. Lay from +Cape Somerset to Singapore direct, keeping highest levels. + + +For the Board: + + CATTERTHUN } + ST. JUST } Lights. + VAN HEDDER } + + + +Casualties + +Week ending Dec. 18th. + +SABLE ISLAND--Green single barbette-tower freighter, number +indistinguishable, up-ended, and fore-tank pierced after +collision, passed 300-ft. level Q P. as. Dec. 15th. Watched +to water and pithed by Mark Boat. + +N. F. BANKS--Postal Packet 162 reports Halma freighter +(Fowey--St. John's) abandoned, leaking after weather, 46 151 N. +50 15' W. Crew rescued by Planet liner Asteroid. Watched to +water and pithed by Postal Packet, Dec. 14th. + +KERGUELEN, MARK BOAT reports last call from Cymena freighter +(Gayer +Tong Huk & Co.) taking water and sinking in snow-storm South +McDonald Islands. No wreckage recovered. Messages and wills of +crew at all A. B. C. offices. + +FEZZAN--T. A. D. freighter Ulema taken ground during Harmattan on +Akakus Range. Under plates strained. Crew at Ghat where repairing +Dec. 13th. + +BISCAY, MARK BOAT reports Caducci (Valandingham Line) slightly +spiked in western gorge Point de Benasdue. Passengers transferred +Andorra (Fulton Line). Barcelona Mark Boat salving cargo Dec. +12th. + +ASCENSION, MARE BOAT--Wreck of unknown racing-plane, Parden +rudder, wire-stiffened xylonite vans, and Harliss engine-seating, +sighted and salved 7 20' S. 18 41' W. Dec. 15th. Photos at all A. +B. C. offices. + + +Missing + +No answer to General Call having been received during the last +week from following overdues, they are posted as missing: + + Atlantis, W.17630 . Canton--Valparaiso + Audhumla W. 889 . Stockholm--Odessa + Berenice, W. 2206 .. . Riga--Vladivostock + Draw, E. 446 . . Coventry--Pontes + Arenas Tontine, E. 5068 . C. Wrath--Ungava + Wu-Sung, E. 41776 . . Hankow--Lobito Bay + +General Call (all Mark Boats) out for: + +Jane Eyre, W. 6990 . Port Rupert--City of Mexico +Santander, W. 6514 . . Gobi Desert--Manila +Y. Edmundsun, E. 9690 . . Kandahar--Fiume + + Broke for Obstruction, and Quitting Levels + +VALKYRIE (racing plane), A. J. Hartley owner, New York + (twice warned). + GEISHA (racing plane), S. van Cott owner, Philadelphia + (twice warned). + MARVEL of PERU (racing plane), J. X. Peixoto owner, Rio de +Janeiro (twice warned). + For the Board: + + LAZAREFF } + McKEOUGH } Traffic + GOLDBRATT } + + + + NOTES + + High-Level Sleet + +The Northern weather so far shows no sign of improvement. From +all quarters come complaints of the unusual prevalence of sleet +at the higher levels. Racing planes and digs alike have suffered +severely--the former from 'unequal deposits of half-frozen slush +on their vans (and only those who have "held up" a badly balanced +plane in a cross-wind know what that means), and the latter from +loaded bows and snow-cased bodies. As a consequence, the Northern +and North-western upper levels have been practically abandoned, +and the high fliers have returned to the ignoble security of the +Three, Five, and Six hundred foot levels. But there remain a few +undaunted sun-hunters who, in spite of frozen stays and +ice-jammed connecting-rods, still haunt the blue empyrean. + + + Bat-Boat Racing + +The scandals of the past few years have at last moved the +yachting world to concerted action in regard to "bat" boat +racing. We have been treated to the spectacle of what are +practically keeled racing-planes driven a clear five foot or more +above the water, and only eased down to touch their so-called " +native element" as they near the line. Judges and starters have +been conveniently blind to this absurdity, but the public +demonstration off St. Catherine's Light at the Autumn Regattas +has borne ample, if tardy, fruit. In the future the "bat" is to +be a boat, and the long-unheeded demand of the true sportsman for +"no daylight under mid-keel in smooth water" is in a fair way to +be conceded. The new rule severely restricts plane area and lift +alike. The gas compartments are permitted both fore and aft, as +in the old type, but the water-ballast central tank is rendered +obligatory. These things work, if not for perfection, at least +for the evolution of a sane and wholesome waterborne cruiser. The +type of rudder is unaffected by the new rules, so we may expect +to see the Long-Davidson make (the patent on which has just +expired) come largely into use henceforward, though the strain on +the sternpost in turning at speeds over forty miles an hour is +admittedly very severe. But bat-boat racing has a great future +before it. + + + Crete and the A. B. C. + +The story of the recent Cretan crisis, as told in the A. B. C. +Monthly Report, is not without humour. Till the 25th October +Crete, as all our planet knows, was the sole surviving European +repository of "autonomous institutions," "local self-government," +and the rest of the archaic lumber devised in the past for the +confusion of human affairs. She has lived practically on the +tourist traffic attracted by her annual pageants of Parliaments, +Boards, Municipal Councils, etc., etc. Last summer the islanders +grew wearied, as their premier explained, of "playing at being +savages for pennies," and proceeded to pull down all the +landing-towers on the island and shut off general communication +till such time as the A. B. C. should annex them. For +side-splitting comedy we would refer our readers to the +correspondence between the Board of Control and the Cretan +premier during the "war." However, all's well that ends well. The +A. B. C. have taken over the administration of Crete on normal +lines; and tourists must go elsewhere to witness the"debates," +"resolutions," and "popular movements" of the old days. The only +people to suffer will be the Board of Control, which is +grievously overworked already. It is easy enough to condemn the +Cretans for their laziness; but when one recalls the large, +prosperous, and presumably public-spirited communities which +during the last few years have deliberately thrown themselves +into the hands of the A. B. C., one, cannot be too hard upon St. +Paul's old friends. + + + + CORRESPONDENCE + + Skylarking on the Equator + +To THE EDITOR: Only last week, while crossing the Equator (W. +26-15), I became aware of a furious and irregular cannonading +some fifteen or twenty knots S. 4 E. Descending to the 500 ft. +level, I found a party of Transylvanian tourists engaged in +exploding scores of the largest pattern atmospheric bombs (A. B. +C. standard) and, in the intervals of their pleasing labours, +firing bow and stern smoke-ring swivels. This orgie--I can give +it no other name--went on for at least two hours, and naturally +produced violent electric derangements. My compasses, of course, +were thrown out, my bow was struck twice, and I received two +brisk shocks from the lower platform-rail. On remonstrating, I +was told that these "professors" were engaged in scientific +experiments. The extent of their "scientific" knowledge, may be +judged by the fact that they expected to produce (I give their +own words)" a little blue sky" if "they went on long enough." +This in the heart of the Doldrums at 450 feet! I have no +objection to any amount of blue sky in its proper place (it can +be found at the 4000 level for practically twelve months out of +the year), but I submit, with all deference to the educational +needs of Transylvania, that "skylarking" in the centre of a +main-travelled road where, at the best of times, electricity +literally drips off one's stanchions and screw blades, is +unnecessary. When my friends had finished, the road was seared, +and blown, and pitted with unequal pressure layers, spirals, +vortices, and readjustments for at least an hour. I pitched badly +twice in an upward rush--solely due to these diabolical +throw-downs--that came near to wrecking my propeller. Equatorial +work at low levels is trying enough in all conscience without the +added terrors of scientific hooliganism in the Doldrums. + Rhyl. J. VINCENT MATHEN. + +[We entirely sympathize with Professor Mathen's views, but till +the Board sees fit to further regulate the Southern areas in +which scientific experiments may be conducted, we shall always be +exposed to the risk which our correspondent describes. +Unfortunately, a chimera bombinating in a vacuum is, nowadays, +only too capable of producing secondary causes.- Editor.] + + + Answers to Correspondents + +VIGILANS--The Laws of Auroral Derangements are still imperfectly +understood. Any overheated motor may of course "seize" without +warning; but so many complaints have reached us of accidents +similar to yours while shooting the Aurora that we are inclined +to believe with Lavalle that the upper strata of the Aurora +Borealis are practically one big electric "leak," and that the +paralysis of your engines was due to complete magnetization of +all metallic parts. Low-flying planes often "glue up" when near +the Magnetic Pole, and there is no reason in science why the same +disability should not be experienced at higher levels when the +Auroras are "delivering" strongly. + +INDIGNANT--On your own showing, you were not under control. That +you could not hoist the necessary N. U. C. lights on approaching +a traffic-lane because your electrics had short-circuited is a +misfortune which might befall any one. The A. B. C., being +responsible for the planet's traffic, cannot, however, make +allowance for this kind of misfortune. A reference to the Code +will show that you were fined on the lower scale. + +PLANISTON--(1) The Five Thousand Kilometre (overland) was won +last year by L. V. Rautsch; R. M. Rautsch, his brother, in the +same week pulling off the Ten Thousand (oversee). R. M.'s average +worked out at a fraction over 500 kilometres per hour, thus +constituting a record. (2) Theoretically, there is no limit to +the lift of a dirigible. For commercial and practical purposes +15,000 tons is accepted as the most manageable. + +PATERFAMILIAS--None whatever. He is liable for direct damage both +to your chimneys and any collateral damage caused by fall of +bricks into garden, etc., etc. Bodily inconvenience and mental +anguish may be included, but the average courts are not, as a +rule, swayed by sentiment. If you can prove that his grapnel +removed any portion of your roof, you had better rest your case +on decoverture of domicile (see Parkins v. Duboulay). We +sympathize with your position, but the night of the 14th was +stormy and confused, and--you may have to anchor on a stranger's +chimney yourself some night. Verbum sap! + +ALDEBARAN--(1) war, as a paying concern, ceased in 1987. (2) The +Convention of London expressly reserves to every nation the right +of waging war so long as it does not interfere with the traffic +and all that implies. (3) The A. B. C. was constituted in 1949. + +L. M. P.--(1) Keep her full head-on at half power, taking +advantage of the lulls to speed up and creep into it. She will +strain much less this way than in quartering across a gale. (2) +Nothing is to be gained by reversing into a following gale, and +there is always risk of a turnover. (3) The formulae for stun'sle +brakes are uniformly unreliable, and will continue to be so as +long as air is compressible. + +PEGAMOID- (1) Personally we prefer glass or flux compounds to any +other material for winter work nose-caps as being absolutely +non-hygroscopic. (2) We cannot recommend any particular make. + +PULMONAR--(1) For the symptoms you describe, try the Gobi Desert +Sanatoria. The low levels of most of the Saharan Sanatoria are +against them except at the outset of the disease. (2) We do not +recommend boarding-houses or hotels in this column. + +BEGINNER--On still days the air above a large inhabited city +being slightly warmer--i.e., thinner--than the atmosphere of the +surrounding country, a plane drops a little on entering the +rarefied area, precisely as a ship sinks a little in fresh water. +Hence the phenomena of "jolt" and your "inexplicable collisions" +with factory chimneys. In air, as on earth, it is safest to fly +high. + +EMERGENCY--There is only one rule of the road in air, earth, and +water. Do you want the firmament to yourself? + +PICCIOLA--Both Poles have been overdone in Art and Literature. +Leave them to Science for the next twenty years. You did not send +a stamp with your verses. + +NORTH NIGERIA--The Mark Boat was within her right in warning you +off the Reserve. The shadow of a low-flying dirigible scares the +game. You can buy all the photos you need at Sokoto. + +NEW ERA--It is not etiquette to overcross an A. B. C. official's +boat without asking permission. He is one of the body responsible +for the planet's traffic, and for that reason must not be +interfered with. You, presumably, are out on your own business or +pleasure, and must leave him alone. For humanity's sake don't try +to be "democratic." + +EXCORIATED--All inflators chafe sooner or later. You must go on +till your skin hardens by practice. Meantime vaseline. + + + + REVIEW + + The Life of Xavier Lavalle + (Reviewed by Rene Talland. Ecole Aeronautique, Paris) + +Ten years ago Lavalle, "that imperturbable dreamer of the +heavens," as Lazareff hailed him, gathered together the fruits of +a lifetime's labour, and gave it, with well-justified contempt, +to a world bound hand and foot to Barald's Theory of Vertices and +"compensating electric nodes." "They shall see," he wrote--in +that immortal postscript to The Heart of the Cyclone--"the Laws +whose existence they derided written in fire beneath them." + +"But even here," he continues, "there is no finality. Better a +thousand times my conclusions should be discredited than that my +dead name should lie across the threshold of the temple of +Science--a bar to further inquiry." + +So died Lavalle--a prince of the Powers of the Air, and even at +his funeral Cellier jested at "him who had gone to discover the +secrets of the Aurora Borealis." + +If I choose thus to be banal, it is only to remind you that +Collier's theories are today as exploded as the ludicrous +deductions of the Spanish school. In the place of their fugitive +and warring dreams we have, definitely, Lavalle's Law of the +Cyclone which he surprised in darkness and cold at the foot of +the overarching throne of the Aurora Borealis. It is there that +I, intent on my own investigations, have passed and re-passed a +hundred times the worn leonine face, white as the snow beneath +him, furrowed with wrinkles like the seams and gashes upon the +North Cape; the nervous hand, integrally a part of the mechanism +of his flighter; and above all, the wonderful lambent eyes turned +to the zenith. + +"Master," I would cry as I moved respectfully beneath him, "what +is it you seek today?" and always the answer, clear and without +doubt, from above: "The old secret, my son!" + +The immense egotism of youth forced me on my own path, but (cry +of the human always!) had I known--if I had known--I would many +times have bartered my poor laurels for the privilege, such as +Tinsley and Herrera possess, of having aided him in his +monumental researches. + +It is to the filial piety of Victor Lavalle that we owe the two +volumes consecrated to the ground-life of his father, so full of +the holy intimacies of the domestic hearth. Once returned from +the abysms of the utter North to that little house upon the +outskirts of Meudon, it was not the philosopher, the daring +observer, the man of iron energy that imposed himself on his +family, but a fat and even plaintive jester, a farceur incarnate +and kindly, the co-equal of his children, and, it must be +written, not seldom the comic despair of Madame Lavalle, who, as +she writes five years after the marriage, to her venerable +mother, found "in this unequalled intellect whose name I bear the +abandon of a large and very untidy boy." Here is her letter: + +"Xavier returned from I do not know where at midnight, absorbed +in calculations on the eternal question of his Aurora--la belle +Aurore, whom I begin to hate. Instead of anchoring,--I had set +out the guide-light above our roof, so he had but to descend and +fasten the plane--he wandered, profoundly distracted, above the +town with his anchor down! Figure to yourself, dear mother, it is +the roof of the mayor's house that the grapnel first engages! +That I do not regret, for the mayor's wife and I are not +sympathetic; but when Xavier uproots my pet araucaria and bears +it across the garden into the conservatory I protest at the top +of my voice. Little Victor in his night-clothes runs to the +window, enormously amused at the parabolic flight without reason, +for it is too dark to see the grapnel, of my prized tree. The +Mayor of Meudon, thunders at our door in the name of the Law, +demanding, I suppose, my husband's head. Here is the conversation +through the megaphone--Xavier is two hundred feet above us: + +"'Mons. Lavalle, descend and make reparation for outrage of +domicile. Descend, Mons. Lavalle!' + +"No one answers. + +"'Xavier Lavalle, in the name of the Law, descend arid submit to +process for outrage of domicile.' + +"Xavier, roused from his calculations, comprehending only the +last words: 'Outrage of domicile? My dear mayor, who is the man +that has corrupted thy Julie?' + +"The mayor, furious, 'Xavier Lavalle--' + +"Xavier, interrupting: 'I have not that felicity. I am only a +dealer in cyclones!' + +"My faith, he raised one then! All Meudon attended in the +streets, and my Xavier, after a long time comprehending what he +had done, excused himself in a thousand apologies. At last the +reconciliation was effected in our house over a supper at two in +the morning--Julie in a wonderful costume of compromises, and I +have her and the mayor pacified in bed in the blue room." + +And on the next day, while the mayor rebuilds his roof, her +Xavier departs anew for the Aurora Borealis, there to commence +his life's work. M. Victor Lavalle tells us of that historic +collision (en plane) on the flank of Hecla between Herrera, then +a pillar of the Spanish school, and the man destined to confute +his theories and lead him intellectually captive. Even through +the years, the immense laugh of Lavalle as he sustains the +Spaniard's wrecked plane, and cries: "Courage! I shall not fall +till I have found Truth, and I hold you fast!" rings like the +call of trumpets. This is that Lavalle whom the world, immersed +in speculations of immediate gain, did not know nor suspect--the +Lavalle whom they adjudged to the last a pedant and a theorist. + +The human, as apart from the scientific, side (developed in his +own volumes) of his epoch-making discoveries is marked with a +simplicity, clarity, and good sense beyond praise. I would +specially refer such as doubt the sustaining influence of +ancestral faith upon character and will to the eleventh and +nineteenth chapters, in which are contained the opening and +consummation of the Tellurionical Records extending over nine +years. Of their tremendous significance be sure that the modest +house at Meudon knew as little as that the Records would one day +be the planet's standard in all official meteorology. It was +enough for them that their Xavier--this son, this father, this +husband--ascended periodically to commune with powers, it might +be angelic, beyond their comprehension, and that they united +daily in prayers for his safety. + +"Pray for me," he says upon the eve of each of his excursions, +and returning, with an equal simplicity, he renders thanks "after +supper in the little room where he kept his barometers." + +To the last Lavalle was a Catholic of the old school, +accepting--he who had looked into the very heart of the +lightnings--the dogmas of papal infallibility, of absolution, of +confession--of relics great and small. Marvellous--enviable +contradiction! + +The completion of the Tellurionical Records closed what Lavalle +himself was pleased to call the theoretical side of his +labours--labours from which the youngest and least impressionable +planeur might well have shrunk. He had traced through cold and +heat, across the deeps of the oceans, with instruments of his own +invention, over the inhospitable heart of the polar ice and the +sterile visage of the deserts, league by league, patiently, +unweariedly, remorselessly, from their ever-shifting cradle under +the magnetic pole to their exalted death-bed in the utmost ether +of the upper atmosphere each one of the Isoconical Tellurions +Lavalle's Curves, as we call them today. He had disentangled the +nodes of their intersections, assigning to each its regulated +period of flux and reflux. Thus equipped, he summons Herrera and +Tinsley, his pupils, to the final demonstration as calmly as +though he were ordering his flighter for some mid-day journey to +Marseilles. + +"I have proved my thesis," he writes. "It remains now only that +you should witness the proof. We go to Manila to-morrow. A +cyclone will form off the Pescadores S. 17 E. in four days, and +will reach its maximum intensity twenty-seven hours after +inception. It is there I will show you the Truth." + +A letter heretofore unpublished from Herrera to Madame Lavalle +tells us how the Master's prophecy was verified. + +I will not destroy its simplicity or its significance by any +attempt to quote. Note well, though, that Herrera's preoccupation +throughout that day and night of superhuman strain is always for +the Master's bodily health and comfort. + +"At such a time," he writes, "I forced the Master to take the +broth"; or "I made him put on the fur coat as you told me." Nor +is Tinsley (see pp. 184, 85) less concerned. He prepares the +nourishment. He cooks eternally, imperturbably, suspended in the +chaos of which the Master interprets the meaning. Tinsley, bowed +down with the laurels of both hemispheres, raises himself to yet +nobler heights in his capacity of a devoted chef. It is almost +unbelievable! And yet men write of the Master as cold, aloof, +self-contained. Such characters do not elicit the joyous and +unswerving devotion which Lavalle commanded throughout life. +Truly, we have changed very little in the course of the ages! The +secrets of earth and sky and the links that bind them, we +felicitate ourselves we are on the road to discover; but our +neighbours' heart and mind we misread, we misjudge, we condemn +now as ever. Let all, then, who love a man read these most human, +tender, and wise volumes. + + + ************* + +transcriber's note: These "advertisements" appeared in the format +that would have been used in a newspaper or magazine ad +section--that is in two columns for the smaller ads, and in +quarter, half, full and double page layouts for the others. also +L is used as the symbol for pounds. + ************* + + +------------------------------------------------ + + MISCELLANEOUS + [ WANTS ] + +REQUIRED IMMEDIATELY, FOR East Africa, a thoroughly competent +Plane and Dirigible Driver, acquainted with Petrol Radium and +Helium motors and generators. Low-level work only, but must +understand heavy-weight digs. + MOSSAMEDES TRANSPORT ASSOC. + 84 Palestine Buildings, E. C. + +------------------------------------------------ + +MAN WANTED-DIG DRIVER for Southern Alps with Saharan summer +trips. High levels, high speed. high wages: + Apply M. SIDNEY + Hotel San Stefano. Monte Carlo. + +------------------------------------------------ + +FAMILY DIRIGIBLE. A COMPETENT, steady man wanted for slow speed, +low level Tangye dirigible. No night work, no sea trips. Must be +member of the Church of England, and make himself useful in the +garden. + M. R. + The Rectory, Gray's Barton, Wilts. + +------------------------------------------------ + +COMMERCIAL DIG, CENTRAL and Southern Europe. A smart, active man +for a L. M. T. Dig. Night work only. Headquarters London and +Cairo. A linguist preferred. + BAGMAN + Charing Cross Hotel, W. C. (urgent.) + +------------------------------------------------ + +FOR SALE--A BARGAIN--Single Plane, narrow-gauge vans, Pinke +motor. Restayed this autumn. Hansen air-kit, 58 in. chest, 153 +collar. Can be seen by appointment. + N. 2650 This office. + +------------------------------------------------ + + The BEE-LINE BOOKSHOP + +BELT'S WAY-BOOKS, giving town lights for all towns over 4,000 +pop. as laid down by A. B. O. +THE WORLD. Complete 2 vols. Thin Oxford, limp back. 12L 6d. +BELT'S COASTAL ITINERARY. Short Lights of the World. 7s. 6d. +THE TRANSATLANTIC AND MEDITERRANEAN TRAFFIC LINES. + (By authority of the A.B.C.) Paper, + 1s. 6d.; cloth. 2s. 6d. Ready, Jan. 16. +ARCTIC AEROPLANING. Siemens and Gait. Cloth, bds. Ss. 6d. +LAVALLE'S HEART OF THE CYCLONE, with supplementary charts. 4s. +6d. +RIMINGTON'S PITFALLS IN THE AIR, and Table of Comparative +Densities 3s. 6d. +ANGELO'S DESERT IN A DIRIGIBLE. New edition, revised. 5s. 9d. +VAUGHAN'S PLANE RACING IN CALM AND STORM. 2s. 6d. +VAUGHAN'S HINTS TO THE AIRMATEUR 1s. +HOFMAN'S LAWS OF LIFT AND VELOCITY. With diagrams, 3s. 6d. +DE VITRE'S THEORY OF SHIFTING BALLAST IN DIRIGIBLES. 2s. 6d. +SANGERS WEATHERS OF THE WORLD. 4s. +SANGER'S TEMPERATURES AT HIGH ALTITUDES. 4s. +HAWKIN'S FOG AND HOW To AVOID IT. 3s. +VAN ZUYLAN'S SECONDARY EFFECTS OF THUNDERSTORMS. 4s. 6d. +DAHLGREN'S AIR CURRENTS AND EPIDEMIC DISEASES. 5s. 6d. +REDMAYNE'S DISEASE AND THE BAROMETER. 7s. 6d. +WALTON'S HEALTH RESORTS OF THE GOBI AND SHAMO. 3s. 6d. +WALTON'S THE POLE AND PULMONARY COMPLAINTS. 7s. ad. +MUTLOWS HIGH LEVEL BACTERIOLOGY. 7s. 6d. +HALLIWELL'S ILLUMINATED STAR MAP, with clockwork attachment, + giving apparent motion of heavens, boxed, complete with + clamps for binnacle, 36 inch size, only L2. 2. 0. + Invaluable for night work.) With A.B.C. certificate. L3. 10s. +0d. Zalinski's Standard Works: + PASSES OF THE HIMALAYAS, 5s. + PASSES OF THE SIERRAS, 5s. + PASSES OF THE ROOKIES. 5s. + PASSES OF THE URALS, 5s. + The four boxed, limp cloth, with charts, 15s. +GRAY'S AIR CURRENTS at MOUNTAIN GORGES, 7s. 6d. + + A. C. BELT & SON, READING +------------------------------------------------ + SAFETY WEAR FOR AERONAUTS +------------------------------------------------ +Fickers! Flickers! Flickers! + + HIGH LEVEL FLICKERS + + "He that is down need fear no fall," + Fear not! You will fall lightly as down! + +Hansen's air-kits are down in all respects. Tremendous reductions +in prices previous to winter stocking. Pure para kit with +cellulose seat and shoulder-pads, weighted to balance. Unequalled +for all drop-work. + + Our trebly resilient heavy kit is the ne plus ultra of + comfort and safety. + +Gas-buoyed, waterproof, hail-proof, nonconducting Flickers with +pipe and nozzle fitting all types of generator. Graduated tap on +left hip. + + Hansen's Flickers Lead the Aerial Flight + 197 Oxford Street + + The new weighted Flicker with tweed or cheviot surface + cannot be distinguished from the ordinary suit till inflated. + +Fickers! Flickers! Flickers! +------------------------------------------------ + + APPLIANCES FOR AIR PLANES + +------------------------------------------------ + What + "SKID" + was to our forefathers on the ground, + "PITCH" + is to their sons in the air. + +The popularity of the large, unwieldy, slow, expensive Dirigible +over the light swift, Plane is mainly due to the former's +immunity from pitch. + +Collison's forward-socketed Air Van renders it impossible for any +plane to pitch. The C.F.S. is automatic, simple as a shutter, +certain\ as a power hammer, safe as oxygen. Fitted to any make of +plane. + + COLLISON + 186 Brompton Road + Workshops, Chiswick + + LUNDIE do MATTERS + Sole Agts for East'n Hemisphere + +------------------------------------------------ + + STARTERS AND GUIDES + +Hotel, club, and private house plane-starters, slips and guides +affixed by skilled workmen in accordance with local building +laws. + +Rackstraww's forty-foot collapsible steel starters with automatic +release at end of travel--prices per foot run, clamps and +crampons included. The safest on the market. + + + Weaver & Denison + Middleboro + +------------------------------------------------ + + AIR PLANES AND DIRIGIBLE GOODS + +------------------------------------------------ + + REMEMBER + + Planes are swift--so is Death + Planes are cheap--so is Life + +Why does the plane builder insist on the safety of his machines? + Methinks the gentleman protests too much. + +The Standard Dig Construction Company do not build kites. + + They build, equip and guarantee dirigibles. + + + Standard Dig construction Co. + Millwall and Buenos Ayres + +------------------------------------------------ +HOVERS + + POWELL'S + Wind Hovers + +for 'planes lying-to in heavy weather, save the motor and strain +on the forebody. Will not send to leeward. "Albatross" +wind-hovers, rigid-ribbed; according to h.p. and weight. + + We fit and test free to + 40 east of Greenwich Village + + L. & W. POWELL + 196 Victoria Street, W. + +------------------------------------------------ + + REMEMBER + + We shall always be pleased to see you. + +We build and test and guarantee our dirigibles or all purposes. +They go up when you please and they do not come down till you +please. + +You can please yourself, but--you might as well choose a +dirigible. + + STANDARD DIRIGIBLE CONSTRUCTION CO. + Millwall and Buenos Ayres + +------------------------------------------------ + + GAYER AND HUNT + Birmingham and Birmingham + Eng. Ala. + + Towers. Landing Stages, + Slips and Lifts + public and private + + Contractors to the A. B. C., South-Western European Postal + Construction Dept. Sole patentees and owners of the +Collison anti-quake diagonal tower-tie. Only gold medal Kyoto +Exhibition of Aerial Appliances, 1997. + +------------------------------------------------ + + AIR PLANES AND DIRIGIBLES + +------------------------------------------------ + + C. M. C. + Our Synthetical Mineral + BEARINGS + +are chemically and crystal logically identical with the minerals +whose names they bear. Any size, any surface. Diamond, +Rock-Crystal, Agate and Ruby Bearings-cups, caps and collars for +the higher speeds. For tractor bearings and spindles-Imperative. +For rear propellers-Indispensable. For all working +parts-Advisable. + + Commercial Minerals Co. + 107 Minories + +------------------------------------------------ + + RESURGAM! + + If you have not Clothed YOURSELF in a + + NORMANDIE RESURGAM + +YOU WILL PROBABLY NOT BE INTERESTED IN OUR NEXT WEEK'S LIST OF +AIR-KIT. + + RESURGAM AIR-KIT EMPORIUM + + HYMANS & GRAHAM + 1198 Lower Broadway, New York + +------------------------------------------------ + + REMEMBER! + +------------------------------------------------ + +* It is now nearly, a generation since the Plane was to +supersede the Dirigible for all purposes. * TO-DAY none of the +Planet's freight is carried en plane. * Less than two per rent of +the Planet's passengers are carried en plane. + +We design, equip guarantee Dirigibles for all purposes. + +Standard Dig Construction Company MILLWALL and BUENOS AYRES +------------------------------------------------ + + BAT-BOATS +------------------------------------------------ + + + FLINT & MANTEL + SOUTHAMPTON + FOR SALE + +at the end of Season the following Bat-Boats: + +GRISELDA, 65 knt., 42 ft., 430(nom.) Maginnis Motor, + under-rake rudder. +MABELLE, 50 knt., 40 ft., 310 Hargreaves Motor, + Douglas' lock-steering gear. +IVEMONA, 50 knt., 35 ft., 300 Hargreaves (Radium accelerator), + Miller keel and rudder. + +The above are well known on the South Coast as sound, wholesome +knockabout boats, with ample cruising accommodation. Griselda +carries spare set of Hofman racing vans and can be lied three +foot clear in smooth water with ballast-tank swung aft. The +others do not lift, clear of water, and are recommended for +beginners. + +Also, by private treaty, racing B.B. Tarpon (76 winning flags) +120 knt., 60 ft.; Long-Davidson double under-rake rudder, new +this season and unstrained. 850 nom. Maginnis motor, Radium +relays and Pond generator. Bronze breakwater forward, and treble +reinforced forefoot and entry. Talfourd rockered keel: Triple set +of Hofman vans, giving maximum lifting surface of 5327 sq. ft. + +Tarpon-has been lifted and held seven feet for two miles between +touch and touch. + +Our Autumn List of racing and family Bats ready on the 9th +January. + +------------------------------------------------ + + AIR PLANES AND STARTERS + +------------------------------------------------ + + HINKS MODERATOR + + Monorail overhead starter + for family and private planes + up to twenty-five foot over all + +Absolutely Safe + + Hinks & Co.. Birmingham +------------------------------------------------ + J. D. ARDAGH + +I AM NOT CONCERNED WITH YOUR PLANE I AFTER IT LEAVES MY GUIDES, +BUT TILL THEN I HOLD MYSELF PERSONALLY RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR LIFE, +SAFETY, AND COMFORT. MY HYDRAULIC BUFFER-STOP CANNOT RELEASE +TILL THE MOTORS ARE WORKING UP TO BEARING SPEED, THUS SECURING +A SAFE AND GRACEFUL FLIGHT WITHOUT PITCHING. + + Remember our motto, "Upward and Outward," + and do not trust yourself to so-called "rigid" guide-bars + + J. D. ARDAGH, BELFAST AND TURIN + +------------------------------------------------ + + ACCESSORIES AND SPARES + +------------------------------------------------ + + CHRISTIAN WRIGHT & OLDIS + ESTABLISHED 1924 + + ACCESSORIES and SPARES + + Hooded Binnacles with dip-dials automatically recording + change of level (illuminated face). + +All heights from 50 to 15,000 feet L2 10 0 +With Aerial Board of Control certificate L3 11 0 +Foot and Hand Foghoms; Sirens toned to any club note; with +air-chest belt-driven horn motor L6 8 0 +Wireless installations syntonised to A.B.C. requirements, in neat +mahogany case, hundred mile range L3 3 0 + +Grapnels, mushroom--anchors, pithing-irons, winches, hawsers, +snaps, shackles and mooring ropes, for lawn, city, and public +installations. + +Detachable under-cars, aluminum or stamped steel. + +Keeled under-cars for planes: single-action detaching-gear, +turning car into boat with one motion of the wrist. Invaluable +for sea trips. + +Head, side, and riding lights (by size) Nos.00 to 20 A.B.C. +Standard. Rockets and fog-bombs in colours and tones of the +principal clubs (boxed). + A selection of twenty L2 17 6 + International night-signals (boxed) L1 11 6 + +Spare generators guaranteed to lifting power marked on cover +(prices according to power). + +Wind-noses for dirigibles--Pegamoid, cane-stiffened, lacquered +cane or aluminum and flux for winter work. + +Smoke-ring cannon for hail storms, swivel mounted, bow or stern. + +Propeller blades: metal, tungsten backed; paper-mache wire +stiffened; ribbed Xylonite (Nickson's patent); all razor-edged +(price by pitch and diameter). + +Compressed steel bow-screws for winter work. + +Fused Ruby or Commercial Mineral Co. bearings and collars. +Agate-mounted thrust-blocks up to 4 inch. + +Magniac's bow-rudders--(Lavales patent grooving). + +Wove steel beltings for outboard motors (nonmagnetic). + +Radium batteries, all powers to 150 h.p. (in pairs). + +Helium batteries, all powers to 300 h.p. (tandem). + +Stun'sle brakes worked from upper or lower platform. + +Direct plunge-brakes worked from lower platform only, loaded silk +or fibre, wind-tight. + +CATALOGUES FREE THROUGHOUT THE PLANET + +------------------------------------------------ + + + THE FOUR ANGELS + + As ADAM lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree, + The Angel of the Earth came down, and offered Earth in fee. + But Adam did not need it, + Nor the plough he would not speed it, + Singing:--"Earth and Water, Air and Fire, + What more can mortal man desire?" + (The Apple Tree's in bud.) + + As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree, + The Angel of the Waters offered all the Seas in fee. + But Adam would not take 'em, + Nor the ships he wouldn't make 'em, + Singing:--"Water, Earth and Air and Fire, + What more can mortal man desire?" + (The Apple Tree's in leaf.) + + As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree, + The Angel of the Air he offered all the Air in fee. + But Adam did not crave it, + Nor the flight he wouldn't brave it, + Singing:--"Air and Water, Earth and Fire, + What more can mortal man desire?" + (The Apple Tree's in bloom.) + + As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree, + The Angel of the Fire rose up and not a word said he. + But he wished a fire and made it, + And in Adam's heart he laid it, + Singing.--"Fire, fire, burning Fire, + Stand up and reach your heart's desire!" + (The Apple Blossom's set.) + + As Adam was a-working outside of Eden-Wall, + He used the Earth, he used the Seas, he used the Air and all; + And out of black disaster + He arose to be the master + Of Earth and Water, Air and Fire, + But never reached his heart's desire! + (The Apple Tree's cut down!) + + + +A DEAL IN COTTON + +Long and long ago, when Devadatta was King of Benares, I wrote +some tales concerning Strickland of the Punjab Police (who +married Miss Youghal), and Adam, his son. Strickland has finished +his Indian Service, and lives now at a place in England called +Weston-super-Mare, where his wife plays the organ in one of the +churches. Semi-occasionally he comes up to London, and +occasionally his wife makes him visit his friends. Otherwise he +plays golf and follows the harriers for his figure's sake. + +If you remember that Infant who told a tale to Eustace Cleever +the novelist, you will remember that he became a baronet with a +vast estate. He has, owing to cookery, a little lost his figure, +but he never loses his friends. I have found a wing of his house +turned into a hospital for sick men, and there I once spent a +week in the company of two dismal nurses and a specialist in +"Sprue." Another time the place was full of schoolboys--sons of +Anglo-Indians whom the Infant had collected for the holidays, and +they nearly broke his keeper's heart. + +But my last visit was better. The Infant called me up by wire, +and I fell into the arms of a friend of mine, Colonel A.L. +Corkran, so that the years departed from us, and we praised +Allah, who had not yet terminated the Delights, nor separated the +Companions. + +Said Corkran, when he had explained how it felt to command a +native Infantry regiment on the border: "The Stricks are coming +for to-night-with their boy." + +"I remember him. The little fellow I wrote a story about," I +said. "Is he in the Service?" + +"No. Strick got him into the Centro-Euro-Africa Protectorate. +He's Assistant-Commissioner at Dupe--wherever that is. +Somaliland, ain't it, Stalky?" asked the Infant. + +Stalky puffed out his nostrils scornfully. "You're only three +thousand miles out. Look at the atlas." + +"Anyhow, he's as rotten full of fever as the rest of you," said +the Infant, at length on the big divan. "And he's bringing a +native servant with him. Stalky be an athlete, and tell Ipps to +put him in the stable room." + +"Why? Is he a Yao--like the fellow Wade brought here--when your +housekeeper had fits?" Stalky often visits the Infant, and has +seen some odd things. + +"No. He's one of old Strickland's Punjabi policemen--and quite +European--I believe." + +"Hooray! Haven't talked Punjabi for three months--and a Punjabi +from Central Africa ought to be amusin'." + +We heard the chuff of the motor in the porch, and the first to +enter was Agnes Strickland, whom the Infant makes no secret of +adoring. + +He is devoted, in a fat man's placid way, to at least eight +designing women; but she nursed him once through a bad bout of +Peshawur fever, and when she is in the house, it is more than all +hers. + +"You didn't send rugs enough," she began. "Adam might have taken +a chill." + +"It's quite warm in the tonneau. Why did you let him ride in +front? " + +"Because he wanted to," she replied, with the mother's smile, and +we were introduced to the shadow of a young man leaning heavily +on the shoulder of a bearded Punjabi Mohammedan. + +"That is all that came home of him," said his father to me. There +was nothing in it of the child with whom I had journeyed to +Dalhousie centuries since." + +"And what is this uniform?" Stalky asked of Imam Din, the +servant, who came to attention on the marble floor. + +"The uniform of the Protectorate troops, Sahib. Though I am the +Little Sahib's body-servant, it is not seemly for us white men to +be attended by folk dressed altogether as servants." + +"And--and you white men wait at table on horseback?" Stalky +pointed to the man's spurs. + +"These I added for the sake of honour when I came to England," +said Imam Din Adam smiled the ghost of a little smile that I +began to remember, and we put him on the big couch for +refreshments. Stalky asked him how much leave he had, and he said +"Six months." + +"But he'll take another six on medical certificate," said Agnes +anxiously. Adam knit his brows. + +"You don't want to--eh? I know. Wonder what my second in command +is doing." Stalky tugged his moustache, and fell to thinking of +his Sikhs. + +"Ah!" said the Infant. "I've only a few thousand pheasants to +look after. Come along and dress for dinner. We're just +ourselves. What flower is your honour's ladyship commanding for +the table?" + +"Just ourselves?" she said, looking at the crotons in the great +hall. "Then let's have marigolds the little cemetery ones." + +So it was ordered. + +Now, marigolds to us mean hot weather, discomfort, parting, and +death. That smell in our nostrils, and Adam's servant in waiting, +we naturally fell back more and more on the old slang, recalling +at each glass those who had gone before. We did not sit at the +big table, but in the bay window overlooking the park, where they +were carting the last of the hay. When twilight fell we would not +have candles, but waited for the moon, and continued our talk in +the dusk that makes one remember. + +Young Adam was not interested in our past except where it had +touched his future. I think his mother held his hand beneath the +table. Imam Din--shoeless, out of respect to the floors--brought +him his medicine, poured it drop by drop, and asked for orders. + +"Wait to take him to his cot when he grows weary," said his +mother, and Imam Din retired into the shadow by the ancestral +portraits. + +"Now what d'you expect to get out of your country?" the Infant +asked, when--our India laid aside we talked Adam's Africa. It +roused him at once. + +"Rubber -nuts -gums -and so on," he said. "But our real future is +cotton. I grew fifty acres of it last year in my District." + +"My District!" said his father. "Hear him, Mummy!" + +"I did though! I wish I could show you the sample. Some +Manchester chaps said it was as good as any Sea Island cotton on +the market." + +"But what made you a cotton-planter, my son?" she asked. + +"My Chief said every man ought to have a shouk (a hobby) of +sorts, and he took the trouble to ride a day out of his way to +show me a belt of black soil that was just the thing for cotton." + +"Ah! What was your Chief like?" Stalky asked, in his silkiest +tones. + +"The best man alive--absolutely. He lets you blow your own nose +yourself. The people call him"--Adam jerked out some heathen +phrase--"that means the Man with the Stone Eyes, you know." + +"I'm glad of that. Because I've heard from other quarters" +Stalky's sentence burned like a slow match, but the explosion was +not long delayed. "Other quarters!" Adam threw out a thin hand. +"Every dog has his fleas. If you listen to them, of course!" The +shake of his head was as I remembered it among his father's +policemen twenty years before, and his mother's eyes shining +through the dusk called on me to adore it. I kicked Stalky on the +shin. One must not mock a young man's first love or loyalty. + +A lump of raw cotton appeared on the table. + +"I thought there might be a need. Therefore I packed it between +our shirts," said the voice of Imam Din. + +"Does he know as much English as that?" cried the Infant, who had +forgotten his East. + +We all admired the cotton for Adam's sake, and, indeed, it was +very long and glossy. + +"It's--it's only an experiment," he said. "We're such awful +paupers we can't even pay for a mailcart in my District. We use a +biscuit-box on two bicycle wheels. I only got the money for +that"--he patted the stuff--"by a pure fluke." + +"How much did it cost?" asked Strickland. + +"With seed and machinery--about two hundred pounds. I had the +labour done by cannibals." + +"That sounds promising." Stalky reached for a fresh cigarette. + +"No, thank you," said Agnes. "I've been at Weston-super-Mare a +little too long for cannibals. I'll go to the music-room and try +over next Sunday's hymns." + +She lifted the boy's hand lightly to her lips, and tripped across +the acres of glimmering floor to the music-room that had been the +Infant's ancestors' banqueting hall. Her grey and silver dress +disappeared under the musicians' gallery; two electrics broke +out, and she stood backed against the lines of gilded pipes. + +"There's an abominable self-playing attachment here!" she called. + +"Me!" the Infant answered, his napkin on his shoulder. "That's +how I play Parsifal." + +"I prefer the direct expression. Take it away, Ipps." + +We heard old Ipps skating obediently all over the floor. + +"Now for the direct expression," said Stalky, and moved on the +Burgundy recommended by the faculty to enrich fever-thinned +blood. + +"It's nothing much. Only the belt of cotton-soil my chief showed +me ran right into the Sheshaheli country. We haven't been able to +prove cannibalism against that tribe in the courts; but when a +Sheshaheli offers you four pounds of woman's breast, tattoo marks +and all, skewered up in a plantain leaf before breakfast, you--" + +"Naturally burn the villages before lunch," said Stalky. + +Adam shook his head. "No troops," he sighed. "I told my Chief +about it, and he said we must wait till they chopped a white man. +He advised me if ever I felt like it not to commit a--a barren +felo de se, but to let the Sheshaheli do it. Then he could +report, and then we could mop 'em up!" + +"Most immoral! That's how we got--" Stalky quoted the name of a +province won by just such a sacrifice. + +"Yes, but the beasts dominated one end of my cotton-belt like +anything. They chivied me out of it when I went to take soil for +analysis--me and Imam Din." + +"Sahib! Is there a need?" The voice came out of the darkness, and +the eyes shone over Adam's shoulder ere it ceased. + +"None. The name was taken in talk." Adam abolished him with a +turn of the finger. "I couldn't make a casus belli of it just +then, because my Chief had taken all the troops to hammer a gang +of slave kings up north. Did you ever hear of our war against Ibn +Makarrah? He precious nearly lost us the Protectorate at one +time, though he's an ally of ours now." + +"Wasn't he rather a pernicious brute, even as they go?" said +Stalky. "Wade told me about him last year." + +"Well, his nickname all through the country was 'The Merciful,' +and he didn't get that for nothing. None of our people ever +breathed his proper name. They said 'He' or 'That One,' and they +didn't say it aloud, either. He fought us for eight months." + +"I remember. There was a paragraph about it in one of the +papers," I said. + +"We broke him, though. No--the slavers don't come our way, +because our men have the reputation of dying too much, the first +month after they're captured. That knocks down profits, you see." + +"What about your charming friends, the Sheshahelis?" said the +Infant. + +"There's no market for Sheshaheli. People would as soon buy +crocodiles. I believe, before we annexed the country, Ibn +Makarrah dropped down on 'em once--to train his young men--and +simply hewed 'em in pieces. The bulk of my people are +agriculturists just the right stamp for cotton-growers. What's +Mother playing?--'Once in royal'?" + +The organ that had been crooning as happily as a woman over her +babe restored, steadied to a tune. + +"Magnificent! Oh, magnificent! " said the Infant loyally. I had +never heard him sing but once, and then, though it was early in +the tolerant morning, his mess had rolled him into a lotus pond. + +"How did you get your cannibals to work for you?" asked +Strickland. + +"They got converted to civilization after my Chief smashed Ibn +Makarrah--just at the time I wanted 'em. You see my Chief had +promised me in writing that if I could scrape up a surplus he +would not bag it for his roads this time, but I might have it for +my cotton game. I only needed two hundred pounds. Our revenues +didn't run to it." + +"What is your revenue?" Stalky asked in the vernacular. + +"With hut-tax, traders' game and mining licenses, not more than +fourteen thousand rupees; every penny of it ear-marked months +ahead." Adam sighed. + +"Also there is a fine for dogs straying in the Sahib's camp. Last +year it exceeded three rupees," Imam Din said quietly. + +"Well, I thought that was fair. They howled so. We were rather +strict on fines. I worked up my native clerk--Bulaki Ram--to a +ferocious pitch of enthusiasm. He used to calculate the profits +of our cotton-scheme to three points of decimals, after office. I +tell you I envied your magistrates here hauling money out of +motorists every week I had managed to make our ordinary revenue +and expenditure just about meet, and I was crazy to get the odd +two hundred pounds for my cotton. That sort of thing grows on a +chap when he's alone--and talks aloud!" + +"Hul-lo! Have you been there already?" the father said, and Adam +nodded. + +"Yes. Used to spout what I could remember of 'Marmion' to a tree, +sir. Well then my luck turned. One evening an English-speaking +nigger came in towing a corpse by the feet. (You get used to +little things like that.) He said he'd found it, and please would +I identify, because if it was one of Ibn Makarrah's men there +might be a reward. It was an old Mohammedan, with a strong dash +of Arab--a smallboned, bald-headed chap, and I was just wondering +how it had kept so well in our climate when it sneezed. You ought +to have seen the nigger! He fetched a howl and bolted like--like +the dog in 'Tom Sawyer,' when he sat on the what's-its-name +beetle. He yelped as he ran, and the corpse went on sneezing. I +could see it had been sarkied. (That's a sort of gum-poison, +pater, which attacks the nerve centres. Our chief medical officer +is writing a monograph about it.) So Imam Din and I emptied out +the corpse one time, with my shaving soap and trade gunpowder, +and hot water. + +"I'd seen a case of sarkie before; so when the skin peeled off +his feet, and he stopped sneezing, I knew he'd live. He was bad, +though; lay like a log for a week while Imam Din and I massaged +the paralysis out of him. Then he told us he was a Hajji--had +been three times to Mecca--come in from French Africa, and that +he'd met the nigger by the wayside--just like a case of thuggee, +in India--and the nigger had poisoned him. That seemed reasonable +enough by what I knew of Coast niggers." + +"You believed him?" said his father keenly. + +"There was no reason I shouldn't. The nigger never came back, and +the old man stayed with me for two months," Adam returned. "You +know what the best type of a Mohammedan gentleman can be, pater? +He was that." + +"None finer, none finer," was the answer. + +"Except a Sikh," Stalky grunted. + +"He'd been to Bombay; he knew French Africa inside out; he could +quote poetry and the Koran all day long. He played chess--you +don't know what that meant to me -like a master. We used to talk +about the regeneration of Turkey and the Sheik-ul-Islam between +moves. Oh, everything under the sun we talked about! He was +awfully open-minded. He believed in slavery, of course, but he +quite saw that it would have to die out. That's why he agreed +with me about developing the resources of the district by +cotton-growing, you know." + +"You talked of that too?" said Strickland. + +"Rather. We discussed it for hours. You don't know what it meant +to me. A wonderful man. Imam Din, was not our Hajji marvellous?" + +"Most marvellous! It was all through the Hajji that we found the +money for our cotton-play." Imam Din had moved, I fancy, behind +Strickland's chair. + +"Yes. It must have been dead against his convictions too. He +brought me news when I was down with fever at Dupe that one of +Ibn Makarrah's men was parading through my District with a bunch +of slaves--in the Fork!" + +"What's the matter with the Fork, that you can't abide it?" said +Stalky. Adam's voice had risen at the last word. + +"Local etiquette, sir," he replied, too earnest to notice +Stalky's atrocious pun. "If a slaver runs slaves through British +territory he ought to pretend that they're his servants. Hawkin' +'em about in the Fork--the forked stick that you put round their +necks, you know--is insolence--same as not backing your topsails +in the old days. Besides, it unsettles the District." + +"I thought you said slavers didn't come your way," I put in. + +"They don't. But my Chief was smoking 'em out of the North all +that season, and they were bolting into French territory any road +they could find. My orders were to take no notice so long as they +circulated, but open slave-dealing in the Fork, was too much. I +couldn't go myself, so I told a couple of our Makalali police and +Imam Din to make talk with the gentleman one time. It was rather +risky, and it might have been expensive, but it turned up trumps. +They were back in a few days with the slaver (he didn't show +fight) and a whole crowd of witnesses, and we tried him in my +bedroom, and fined him properly. Just to show you how demoralized +the brute must have been (Arabs often go dotty after a defeat), +he'd snapped up four or five utterly useless Sheshaheli, and was +offering 'em to all and sundry along the road. Why, he offered +'em to you, didn't he, Imam Din?" + +"I was witness that he offered man-eaters' for sale," said Imam +Din. + +"Luckily for my cotton-scheme, that landed, him both ways. You +see, he had slaved and exposed slaves for sale in British +territory. That meant the double fine if I could get it out of +him." + +"What was his defence?" said Strickland, late of the Punjab +Police. + +"As far as I remember--but I had a temperature of 104 degrees at +the time--he'd mistaken the meridians of longitude. Thought he +was in French territory. Said he'd never do it again, if we'd let +him off with a fine. I could have shaken hands with the brute for +that. He paid up cash like a motorist and went off one time." + +"Did you see him?" + +"Ye-es. Didn't I, Imam Din?" + +"Assuredly the Sahib both saw and spoke to the slaver. And the +Sahib also made a speech to the man-eaters when he freed them, +and they swore to supply him with labour for all his cotton-play. +The Sahib leaned on his own servant's shoulder the while." + +"I remember something of that. I remember Bulaki Ram giving me +the papers to sign, and I distinctly remember him locking up the +money in the safe--two hundred and ten beautiful English +sovereigns. You don't know what that meant to me! I believe it +cured my fever; and as soon as I could, I staggered off with the +Hajji to interview the Sheshaheli about labour. Then I found out +why they had been so keen to work! It wasn't gratitude. Their big +village had been hit by lightning and burned out a week or two +before, and they lay flat in rows around me asking me for a job. +I gave it 'em." + +"And so you were very happy?" His mother had stolen up behind us. +"You liked your cotton, dear?" She tidied the lump away. + +"By Jove, I was happy!" Adam yawned. "Now if any one," he looked +at the Infant, "cares to put a little money into the scheme, +it'll be the making of my District. I can't give you figures, +sir, but I assure--" + +"You'll take your arsenic, and Imam Din'll take you up to bed, +and I'll come and tuck you in." + +Agnes leaned forward, her rounded elbows on his shoulders, hands +joined across his dark hair, and "Isn't he a darling?" she said +to us, with just the same heart-rending lift to the left eyebrow +and the same break of her voice as sent Strickland mad among the +horses in the year '84. We were quiet when they were gone. We +waited till Imam Din returned to us from above and coughed at the +door, as only dark-hearted Asia can. + +"Now," said Strickland, "tell us what truly befell, son of my +servant." + +"All befell as our Sahib has said. Only--only there was an +arrangement--a little arrangement on account of his cotton-play." + +"Tell! Sit! I beg your pardon, Infant," said Strickland. + +But the Infant had already made the sign, and we heard Imam Din +hunker down on the floor: One gets little out of the East at +attention. + +"When the fever came on our Sahib in our roofed house at Dupe," +he began, "the Hajji listened intently to his talk. He expected +the names of women; though I had already told him that Our virtue +was beyond belief or compare, and that Our sole desire was this +cotton-play. Being at last convinced, the Hajji breathed on our +Sahib's forehead, to sink into his brain news concerning a +slave-dealer in his district who had made a mock of the law. +Sahib," Imam Din turned to Strickland, "our Sahib answered to +those false words as a horse of blood answers to the spur. He sat +up. He issued orders for the apprehension of the slavedealer. +Then he fell back. Then we left him." + +"Alone--servant of my son, and son of my servant?" said his +father. + +"There was an old woman which belonged to the Hajji. She had come +in with the Hajji's money-belt. The Hajji told her that if our +Sahib died, she would die with him. And truly our Sahib had given +me orders to depart." + +"Being mad with fever--eh?" + +"What could we do, Sahib? This cotton-play was his heart's +desire. He talked of it in his fever. Therefore it was his +heart's desire that the Hajji went to fetch. Doubtless the Hajji +could have given him money enough out of hand for ten +cottonplays; but in this respect also our Sahib's virtue was +beyond belief or compare. Great Ones do not exchange moneys. +Therefore the Hajji said--and I helped with my counsel--that we +must make arrangements to get the money in all respects +conformable with the English Law. It was great trouble to us, +but--the Law is the Law. And the Hajji showed the old woman the +knife by which she would die if our Sahib died. So I accompanied +the Hajji." + +"Knowing who he was?" said Strickland. + +"No! Fearing the man. A virtue went out from him overbearing the +virtue of lesser persons. The Hajji told Bulaki Ram the clerk to +occupy the seat of government at Dupe till our return. Bulaki Ram +feared the Hajji, because the Hajji had often gloatingly +appraised his skill in figures at five thousand rupees upon any +slave-block. The Hajji then said to me: 'Come, and we will make +the man-eaters play the cotton-game for my delight's delight' The +Hajji loved our Sahib with the love of a father for his son, of a +saved for his saviour, of a Great One for a Great One. But I +said: 'We cannot go to that Sheshaheli place without a hundred +rifles. We have here five.' The Hajji said: 'I have untied as +knot in my head-handkerchief which will be more to us than a +thousand.' I saw that he had so loosed it that it lay flagwise on +his shoulder. Then I knew that he was a Great One with virtue in +him. + +"We came to the highlands of the Sheshaheli on the dawn of the +second day--about the time of the stirring of the cold wind. The +Hajji walked delicately across the open place where their filth +is, and scratched upon the gate which was shut. When it opened I +saw the man-eaters lying on their cots under the eaves of the +huts. They rolled off: they rose up, one behind the other the +length of the street, and the fear on their faces was as leaves +whitening to a breeze. The Hajji stood in the gate guarding his +skirts from defilement. The Hajji said: 'I am here once again. +Give me six and yoke up.' They zealously then pushed to us with +poles six, and yoked them with a heavy tree. The Hajji then said: +"Fetch fire from the morning hearth, and come to windward.' The +wind is strong on those headlands at sunrise, so when each had +emptied his crock of fire in front of that which was before him, +the broadside of the town roared into flame, and all went. The +Hajji then said: 'At the end of a time there will come here the +white man ye once chased for sport. He will demand labour to +plant such and such stuff. Ye are that labour, and your spawn +after you.' They said, lifting their heads a very little from the +edge of the ashes: ' We are that labour, and our spawn after us.' +The Hajji said: 'What is also my name?' They said: 'Thy name is +also The Merciful' The Hajji said: 'Praise then my mercy'; and +while they did this, the Hajji walked away, I following." + +The Infant made some noise in his throat, and reached for more +Burgundy. + +"About noon one of our six fell dead. Fright only frights Sahib! +None had--none could--touch him. Since they were in pairs, and +the other of the Fork was mad and sang foolishly, we waited for +some heathen to do what was needful. There came at last Angari +men with goats. The Hajji said: 'What do ye see? They said: 'Oh, +our Lord, we neither see nor hear.' The Hajji said: 'But I +command ye to see and to hear and to say.' They said: 'Oh, our +Lord, it is to our commanded eyes as though slaves stood in a +Fork.' The Hajji said: 'So testify before the officer who waits +you in the town of Dupe.' They said: 'What shall come to us +after?' The Hajji said: 'The just reward for the informer. But if +ye do not testify, then a punishment which shall cause birds, to +fall from the trees in terror and monkeys to scream for pity.' +Hearing this, the Angari men hastened to Dupe. The Hajji then +said to me: 'Are those things sufficient to establish our case, +or must I drive in a village full?' I said that three witnesses +amply established any case, but as yet, I said, the Hajji had not +offered his slaves for sale. It is true, as our Sahib said just +now, there is one fine for catching slaves, and yet another for +making to sell them. And it was the double fine that we needed, +Sahib, for our Sahib's cotton-play. We had fore-arranged all this +with Bulaki Ram, who knows the English Law, and, I thought the +Hajji remembered, but he grew angry, and cried out: 'O God, +Refuge of the Afflicted, must I, who am what I am, peddle this' +dog's meat by the roadside to gain his delight for my heart's +delight?" None the less, he admitted it was the English Law, and +so he offered me the six--five--in a small voice, with an averted +head. The Sheshaheli do not smell of sour milk as heathen should. +They smell like leopards, Sahib. This is because they eat men." + +"Maybe," said Strickland. "But where were thy wits? One witness +is not sufficient to establish the fact of a sale." + +"What could we do, Sahib? There was the Hajji's reputation to +consider. We could not have called in a heathen witness for such +a thing. And, moreover, the Sahib forgets that the defendant +himself was making this case. He would not contest his own +evidence. Otherwise, I know the law of evidence well enough. + +"So then we went to Dupe, and while Bulaki Ram waited among the +Angari men, 'I ran to see our Sahib in bed. His eyes were very +bright, and his mouth was full of upside-down orders, but the old +woman had not loosened her hair for death. The Hajji said: 'Be +quick with my trial. I am not Job!' The Hajji was a learned man. +We made the trial swiftly to a sound of soothing voices round the +bed. Yet--yet, because no man can be sure whether a Sahib of that +blood sees, or does not see, we made it strictly in the manner of +the forms of the English Law. Only the witnesses and the slaves +and the prisoner we kept without for his nose's sake." + +"Then he did not see the prisoner?" said Strickland. + +"I stood by to shackle up an Angari in case he should demand it, +but by God's favour he was too far fevered to ask for one. It is +quite true he signed the papers. It is quite true he saw the +money put away in the safe--two hundred and ten English pounds +and it is quite true that the gold wrought on him as a strong +cure. But as to his seeing the prisoner, and having speech with +the man-eaters--the Hajji breathed all that on his forehead to +sink into his sick brain. A little, as ye have heard, has +remained . . . . Ah, but when the fever broke, and our Sahib +called for the fine-book, and the thin little picture-books from +Europe with the pictures of ploughs and hoes, and +cotton=3Dmills--ah, then he laughed as he used to laugh, Sahib. +It was his heart's desire, this cotton-play. The Hajji loved him, +as who does not? It was a little, little arrangement, Sahib, of +which--is it necessary to tell all the world?" + +"And when didst thou know who the Hajji was?" said Strickland. + +"Not for a certainty till he and our Sahib had returned from +their visit to the Sheshaheli country. It is quite true as our +Sahib says, the man-eaters lay, flat around his feet, and asked +for spades to cultivate cotton. That very night, when I was +cooking the dinner, the Hajji said to me: 'I go to my own place, +though God knows whether the Man with the Stone Eyes have left me +an ox, a slave, or a woman.' I said: 'Thou art then That One?' +The Hajji said: 'I am ten thousand rupees reward into thy hand. +Shall we make another law-case and get more cotton machines for +the boy?' I said: 'What dog am I to do this? May God prolong thy +life a thousand years!' The Hajji said: 'Who has seen to-morrow? +God has given me as it were a son in my old age, and I praise +Him. See that the breed is not lost!' + +"He walked then from the cooking-place to our Sahib's +office-table under the tree, where our Sahib held in his hand a +blue envelope of Service newly come in by runner from the North. +At this, fearing evil news for the Hajji, I would have restrained +him, but he said: 'We be both Great Ones. Neither of us will +fail.' Our Sahib looked up to invite the Hajji to approach before +he opened the letter, but the Hajji stood off till our Sahib had +well opened and well read the letter. Then the Hajji said: 'Is it +permitted to say farewell?' Our Sahib stabbed the letter on the +file with a deep and joyful breath and cried a welcome. The Hajji +said: 'I go to my own place,' and he loosed from his neck a +chained heart of ambergris set in soft gold and held it forth. +Our Sahib snatched it swiftly in the closed fist, down turned, +and said 'If thy name be written hereon, it is needless, for a +name is already engraved on my heart.' The Hajji said: 'And on +mine also is a name engraved; but there is no name on the +amulet.' The Hajji stooped to our Sahib's feet, but our Sahib +raised and embraced him, and the Hajji covered his mouth with his +shoulder-cloth, because it worked, and so he went away." + +"And what order was in the Service letter?" Stalky murmured. + +"Only an order for our Sahib to write a report on some new cattle +sickness. But all orders come in the same make of envelope. We +could not tell what order it might have been." + +"When he opened the letter--my son--made he no sign? A cough? An +oath?" Strickland asked. + +"None, Sahib. I watched his hands. They did not shake. Afterward +he wiped his face, but he was sweating before from the heat." + +"Did he know? Did he know who the Hajji was?" said the Infant in +English. + +"I am a poor man. Who can say what a Sahib of that get knows or +does not know? But the Hajji is right. The breed should not be +lost. It is not very hot for little children in Dupe, and as +regards nurses, my sister's cousin at Jull--" + +"H'm! That is the boy's own concern. I wonder if his Chief ever +knew?" said Strickland. + +"Assuredly," said Imam Din. "On the night before our Sahib went +down to the sea, the Great Sahib--the Man with the Stone +Eyes--dined with him in his camp, I being in charge of the table. +They talked a long while and the Great Sahib said: 'What didst +thou think of That One?' (We do not say Ibn Makarrah yonder.) Our +Sahib said: 'Which one?' The Great Sahib said: 'That One which +taught thy man-eaters to grow cotton for thee. He was in thy +District three months to my certain knowledge, and I looked by +every runner that thou wouldst send me in his head.' Our Sahib +said: 'If his head had been needed, another man should have been +appointed to govern my District, for he was my friend.' The Great +Sahib laughed and said: 'If I had needed a lesser man in thy +place be sure I would have sent him, as, if I had needed the head +of That One, be sure I would have sent men to bring it to me. But +tell me now, by what means didst thou twist him to thy use and +our profit in this cotton-play?' Our Sahib said: 'By God, I did +not use that man in any fashion whatever. He was my friend.' The +Great Sahib said: ' 'Toh Vac! (Bosh!) Tell!' Our Sahib shook his +head as he does--as he did when a child--and they looked at each +other like sword-play men in the ring at a fair. The Great Sahib +dropped his eyes first and he said: 'So be it. I should perhaps +have answered thus in my youth. No matter. I have made treaty +with That One as an ally of the State. Some day he shall tell me +the tale.' Then I brought in fresh coffee, and they ceased. But I +do not think That One will tell the Great Sahib more than our +Sahib told him." + +"Wherefore?" I asked. + +"Because they are both Great Ones, and I have observed in my life +that Great Ones employ words very little between each other in +their dealings; still less when they speak to a third concerning +those dealings. Also they profit by silence . . . . Now I think +that the mother has come down from the room, and I will go rub +his feet till he sleeps." + +His ears had caught Agnes's step at the stair-head and presently +she passed us on her way to the music room humming the +Magnificat. + + + + THE NEW KNIGHTHOOD + + Who gives him the Bath? + "I," said the wet, + Rank Jungle-sweat, + "I'll give him the Bath!" + + Who'll sing the psalms? + "We," said the Palms. + "Ere the hot wind becalms, + We'll sing the psalms." + + Who lays on the sword? + "I," said the Sun, + "Before he has done, + I'll lay on the sword." + + Who fastens his belt? + "I," said Short-Rations, + "I know all the fashions + Of tightening a belt!" + + Who buckles his spur? + "I," said his Chief, + Exacting and brief, + "I'll give him the spur." + + Who'll shake his hand? + "I," said the Fever, + "And I'm no deceiver, + I'll shake his hand." + + Who brings him the wine? + "I," said Quinine, + "It's a habit of mine, + I'll come with his wine." + + Who'll put him to proof? + "I," said All Earth, + "Whatever he's worth, + I'll put to the proof." + + Who'll choose him for Knight? + "I," said his Mother, + "Before any other, + My very own knight!" + + And after this fashion, adventure to seek, + Was Sir Galahad made--as it might be last week! + + + +THE PUZZLER + +I had not seen Penfentenyou since the Middle Nineties, when he +was Minister of Ways and Woodsides in De Thouar's first +Administration. Last summer, though he nominally held the same +portfolio, he was his Colony's Premier in all but name, and the +idol of his own province, which is two and a half times the size +of England. Politically, his creed was his growing country; and +he came over to England to develop a Great Idea in her behalf. + +Believing that he had put it in train, I made haste to welcome +him to my house for a week. + +That he was chased to my door by his own Agent-General in a +motor; that they turned my study into a Cabinet Meeting which I +was not invited to attend; that the local telegraph all but broke +down beneath the strain of hundred word coded cables; and that I +practically broke into the house of a stranger to get him +telephonic facilities on a Sunday, are things I overlook. What I +objected to was his ingratitude, while I thus tore up England to +help him. So I said: "Why on earth didn't you see your Opposite +Number in Town instead of bringing your office work here?" + +"Eh? Who?" said he, looking up from his fourth cable since lunch. + +"See the English Minister for Ways and Woodsides." + +"I saw him," said Penfentenyou, without enthusiasm. + +It seemed that he had called twice on the gentleman, but without +an appointment--("I thought if I wasn't big enough, my business +was")--and each time had found him engaged. A third party +intervening, suggested that a meeting might be arranged if due +notice were given. + +"Then," said Penfentenyou, "I called at the office at ten +o'clock." + +"But they'd be in bed," I cried. + +"One of the babies was awake. He told me that--that 'my sort of +questions "'--he slapped the pile of cables--"were only taken +between 11 and 2 P.M. So I waited." + +"And when you got to business?" I asked. + +He made a gesture of despair. "It was like talking to children. +They'd never heard of it." + +"And your Opposite Number?" + +Penfentenyou described him. + +"Hush! You mustn't talk like that!" I shuddered. "He's one of the +best of good fellows. You should meet him socially." + +"I've done that too," he said. "Have you?" + +"Heaven forbid!" I cried; "but that's the proper thing to say." + +"Oh, he said all the proper things. Only I thought as this was +England that they'd more or less have the hang of all +the--general hang-together of my Idea. But I had to explain it +from the beginning." + +"Ah! They'd probably mislaid the papers," I said, and I told him +the story of a three-million pound insurrection caused by a +deputy Under-Secretary sitting upon a mass of green-labelled +correspondence instead of reading it. + +"I wonder it doesn't happen every week," the answered. "D'you +mind my having the Agent-General to dinner again tonight? I'll +wire, and he can motor down." + +The Agent-General arrived two hours later, a patient and +expostulating person, visibly torn between the pulling Devil of a +rampant Colony, and the placid Baker of a largely uninterested +England. But with Penfentenyou behind him he had worked; for he +told us that Lord Lundie--the Law Lord was the final authority on +the legal and constitutional aspects of the Great Idea, and to +him it must be referred. + +"Good Heavens alive!" thundered Penfentenyou. "I told you to get +that settled last Christmas." + +"It was the middle of the house-party season," said the +Agent-General mildly. "Lord Lundie's at Credence Green now--he +spends his holidays there. It's only forty miles off." + +"Shan't I disturb his Holiness?" said Penfentenyou heavily. +"Perhaps 'my sort of questions,"' he snorted, "mayn't be +discussed except at midnight." + +"Oh, don't be a child," I said. + +"What this country needs," said Penfentenyou, "is--" and for ten +minutes he trumpeted rebellion. + +"What you need is to pay for your own protection," I cut in when +he drew breath, and I showed him a yellowish paper, supplied +gratis by Government, which is called Schedule D. To my merciless +delight he had never seen the thing before, and I completed my +victory over him and all the Colonies with a Brassey's "Naval +Annual" and a "Statesman's Year Book." + +The Agent-General interposed with agent-generalities (but they +were merely provocateurs) about Ties of Sentiment. + +"They be blowed!" said Penfentenyou. "What's the good of +sentiment towards a Kindergarten?" + +"Quite so. Ties of common funk are the things that bind us +together; and the sooner you new nations realize it the better. +What you need is an annual invasion. Then you'd grow up." + +"Thank you! Thank you!" said the Agent-General. "That's what I am +always trying to tell my people." + +"But, my dear fool," Penfentenyou almost wept, "do you pretend +that these banana-fingered amateurs at home are grown up?" + +"You poor, serious, pagan man," I retorted, "if you take 'em that +way, you'll wreck your Great Idea." + +"Will you take him to Lord Lundie's to-morrow?" said the +Agent-General promptly. + +"I suppose I must," I said, "if you won't." + +"Not me! I'm going home," said the Agent-General, and departed. I +am glad that I am no colony's Agent-General. + +Penfentenyou continued to argue about naval contributions till +1.15 A.M., though I was victor from the first. + +At ten o'clock I got him and his correspondence into the motor, +and he had the decency to ask whether he had been unpolished +over-night. I replied that I waited an apology. This he made +excuse for renewed arguments, and used wayside shows as +illustrations of the decadence of England. + +For example we burst a tyre within a mile of Credence Green, and, +to save time, walked into the beautifully kept little village. +His eye was caught by a building of pale-blue tin, stencilled +"Calvinist Chapel," before whose shuttered windows an Italian +organ-grinder .with a petticoated monkey was playing "Dolly +Grey-" + +"Yes. That's it!" snapped the egoist. "That's a parable of the +general situation in England. And look at those brutes!" A huge +household removals van was halted at a public-house. The men in +charge were drinking beer from blue and white mugs. It seemed to +me a pretty sight, but Penfentenyou said it represented Our +National Attitude. + +Lord Lundie's summer resting-place we learned was a farm, a +little out of the village, up a hill round which curled a high +hedged road. Only an initiated few spend their holidays at +Credence Green, and they have trained the householders to keep +the place select. Penfentenyou made a grievance of this as we +walked up the lane, followed at a distance by the organ-grinder. + +"Suppose he is having a house-party," he said: "Anything's +possible in this insane land." + +Just at that minute we found ourselves opposite an empty villa. +Its roof was of black slate, with bright unweathered +ridge-tiling; its walls were of blood-coloured brick, cornered +and banded with vermiculated stucco work, and there was cobalt, +magenta, and purest apple-green window-glass on either side of +the front door. The whole was fenced from the road by a low, +brick-pillared, flint wall, topped with a cast-iron Gothic rail, +picked out in blue and gold. + +Tight beds of geranium, calceolaria, and lobelia speckled the +glass-plat, from whose centre rose one of the finest araucarias +(its other name by the way is "monkey-puzzler"), that it has ever +been my lot to see. It must have been full thirty feet high, and +its foliage exquisitely answered the iron railings. Such bijou ne +plus ultras, replete with all the amenities, do not, as I pointed +out to Penfentenyou, transpire outside of England. + +A hedge, swinging sharp right, flanked the garden, and above it +on a slope of daisy-dotted meadows we could see Lord Lundie's +tiled and half-timbered summer farmhouse. Of a sudden we heard +voices behind the tree--the fine full tones of the unembarrassed +English, speaking to their equals--that tore through the hedge +like sleet through rafters. + +"That it is not called 'monkey-puzzler' for nothing, I willingly +concede"--this was a rich and rolling note--"but on the other +hand--" + +"I submit, me lud, that the name implies that it might, could, +would, or should be ascended by a monkey, and not that the ascent +is a physical impossibility. I believe one of our South American +spider monkeys wouldn't hesitate . . . By Jove, it might be worth +trying, if--" + +This was a crisper voice than the first. A third, higher-pitched, +and full of pleasant affectations, broke in. + +"Oh, practical men, there is no ape here. Why do you waste one of +God's own days on unprofitable discussion? Give me a match!" + +"I've a good mind to make you demonstrate in your own person. +Come on, Bubbles! We'll make Jimmy climb!" + +There was a sound of scuffling, broken by squeaks from Jimmy of +the high voice. I turned back and drew Penfentenyou into the side +of the flanking hedge. I remembered to have read in a society +paper that Lord Lundie's lesser name was "Bubbles." + +"What are they doing?" Penfentenyou said sharply. "Drunk?" + +"Just playing! Superabundant vitality of the Race, you know. +We'll watch 'em," I answered. The noise ceased. + +"My deliver," Jimmy gasped. "The ram caught in the thicket, +and--I'm the only one who can talk Neapolitan! Leggo my collar!" +He cried aloud in a foreign tongue, and was answered from the +gate. + +"It's the Calvinistic organ-grinder," I whispered. I had already +found a practicable break at the bottom of the hedge. "They're +going to try to make the monkey climb, I believe." + +"Here--let me look!" Penfentenyou flung himself down, and rooted +till he too broke a peep-hole. We lay side by side commanding the +entire garden at ten yards' range. + +"You know 'em?" said Penfentenyou, as I made some noise or other. + +"By sight only. The big fellow in flannels is Lord Lundie; the +light-built one with the yellow beard painted his picture at the +last Academy: He's a swell R.A., James Loman." + +"And the brown chap with the hands?" + +"Tomling, Sir Christopher Tomling, the South American engineer +who built the--" + +"San Juan Viaduct. I know," said Penfentenyou. "We ought to have +had him with us . . . . Do you think a monkey would climb the +tree?" + +The organ-grinder at the gate fenced his beast with one arm as +Jimmy-talked. + +"Don't show off your futile accomplishments," said Lord Lundie. +"Tell him it's an experiment. Interest him!" + +"Shut up, Bubbles. You aren't in court," Jimmy',replied. "This +needs delicacy. Giuseppe says--" + +"Interest the monkey," the brown engineer interrupted. "He won't +climb for love. Cut up to the house and get some biscuits, +Bubbles--sugar ones and an orange or two. No need to tell our +womenfolk." + +The huge white figure lobbed off at a trot which would not have +disgraced a boy of seventeen. I gathered from something Jimmy let +fall that the three had been at Harrow together. + +"That Tomling has a head on his Shoulders," muttered +Penfentenyou. "Pity we didn't get him for the Colony. But the +question is, will the monkey climb?" + +"Be quick, Jimmy. Tell the man we'll give him five bob for the +loan of the beast. Now run the organ under the tree, and we'll +dress it when Bubbles comes back," Sir Christopher cried. + +"I've often wondered," said Penfentenyou, "whether it would +puzzle a monkey?" He had forgotten the needs of his Growing +Nation, and was earnestly parting the white-thorn stems with his +fingers. + + * * * * * * * * * * + +Giuseppe and Jimmy did as they were told, the monkey following +them with a wary and malignant eye. + +"Here's a discovery," said Jimmy. "The singing part of this organ +comes off the wheels." He spoke volubly to the proprietor. "Oh, +it's so as Giuseppe can take it to his room o' nights. And play +it. D'you hear that? The organ-grinder, after his day's crime, +plays his accursed machine for love. For love, Chris! And Michael +Angelo was one of 'em!" + +"Don't jaw! Tell him to take the beast's petticoat off," said Sir +Christopher Tomling. + +Lord Lundie returned, very little winded, through a gap higher up +the hedge. + +"They're all out, thank goodness!" he cried, "but I've raided +what I could. Macrons glaces, candied fruit, and a bag of +oranges." + +"Excellent!" said the world-renowned contractor. + +"Jimmy, you're the light-weight; jump up on the organ and impale +these things on the leaves as I hand 'em!" + +"I see," said Jimmy, capering like a springbuck. "Upward and +onward, eh? First, he'll reach out for--how infernal prickly +these leaves are!--this biscuit. Next we'll lure him on--(that's +about the reach of his arm)--with the marron glare, and then +he'll open out this orange. How human! How like your ignoble +career, Bubbles!" + +With care and elaboration they ornamented that tree's lower +branches with sugar-topped biscuits, oranges, bits of banana, and +marrons glares till it looked very ape's path to Paradise. + +"Unchain the Gyascutis!" said Sir Christopher commandingly. +Giuseppe placed the monkey atop of the organ, where the beast, +misunderstanding, stood on his head. + +"He's throwing himself on the mercy of the Court, me lud," said +Jimmy. "No--now he's interested. Now he's reaching after higher +things. What wouldn't I give to have here" (he mentioned a name +not unhonoured in British Art). "Ambition plucking apples of +Sodom!" (the monkey had pricked himself and was swearing). +"Genius hampered by Convention? Oh, there's a whole bushelful of +allegories in it!" + +"Give him time. He's balancing the probabilities," said Lord +Lundie. + +The three closed round the monkey,--hanging on his every motion +with an earnestness almost equal to ours. The great judge's +head--seamed and vertical forehead, iron mouth, and pike-like +under-jaw, all set on that thick neck rising out of the white +flannelled collar--was thrown against the puckered green silk of +the organ-front as it might have been a cameo of Titus. Jimmy, +with raised eyes and parted lips, fingered his grizzled chestnut +beard, and I was near enough to-note, the capable beauty of his +hands. Sir Christopher stood a little apart, his arms folded +behind his back, one heavy brown boot thrust forward, chin in as +curbed, and black eyebrows lowered to shade the keen eyes. + +Giuseppe's dark face between flashing earrings, a twisted rag of +red and yellow silk round his throat, turned from the reaching +yearning monkey to the pink and white biscuits spiked on the +bronzed leafage. And upon them all fell the serious and +workmanlike sun of an English summer forenoon. + +"Fils de Saint Louis, montez au ciel!" said Lord Lundie suddenly +in a voice that made me think of Black Caps. I do not know what +the monkey thought, because at that instant he leaped off the +organ and disappeared. + +There was a clash of broken glass behind the tree. + +The monkey's face, distorted with passion, appeared at an upper +window of the house, and a starred hole in the stained-glass +window to the left of 'the front door showed the first steps of +his upward path. + +"We've got to catch him," cried Sir Christopher. "Come along!" + +They pushed at the door, which was unlocked. + +"Yes. But consider the ethics of the case," said Jimmy. "Isn't +this burglary or something, Bubbles?" + +"Settle that when he's caught," said Sir Christopher. We're +responsible for the beast." + +A furious clanging of bells broke out of the empty house, +followed by muffed gurglings and trumpetings. + +"What the deuce is that?" I asked, half aloud. + +"The plumbing, of course," said Penfentenyou. "What a pity! I +believe he'd have climbed if Lord Lundie hadn't put him off!" + +"Wait a moment, Chris," said Jimmy the interpreter; " Guiseppe +says he may answer to the music of his infancy. Giuseppe, +therefore, will go in with the "organ. Orpheus with his lute, you +know. Avante, Orpheus! There's no Neapolitan for bathroom, but I +fancy your friend is there." + +"I'm not going into another man's house with a, hurdy-gurdy," +said Lord Lundie, recoiling, as Giuseppe unshipped the working +mechanism of the organ (it developed a hang-down leg) from its +wheels, slipped a strap round his shoulders, and gave the handle +a twist. + +"Don't be a cad, Bubbles," was Jimmy's answer. "You couldn't +leave us now if you were on the Woolsack. Play, Orpheus! The Cadi +accompanies." + + * * * * * * * * * + + +With a whoop, a buzz, and a crash, the organ sprang to life under +the hand of Giuseppe, and the procession passed through the +rained-to-imitate-walnut front door. A moment later we saw the +monkey ramping on the roof. + +"He'll be all over the township in a minute if we don't head +him," said Penfentenyou, leaping to his feet, and crashing into +the garden. We headed him with pebbles till he retired through a +window to the tuneful reminder that he had left a lot of little +things behind him. As we passed the front door it swung open, and +showed Jimmy the artist sitting at the bottom of a newly-cleaned +staircase. He waggled his hands at us, and when we entered we saw +that the man was stricken speechless. His eyes grew red--red like +a ferret's--and what little breath he had whistled shrilly. At +first we thought it was a fit, and then we saw that it was +mirth--the inopportune mirth of the Artistic Temperament. + +The house palpitated to an infamous melody punctuated by the +stump of the barrel-organ's one leg, as Giuseppe, above, moved +from room to room after his rebel slave. Now and again a floor +shook a little under the combined rushes of Lord Lundie and Sir +Christopher Tomling, who gave many and contradictory orders. But +when they could they cursed Jimmy with splendid thoroughness. + +"Have you anything to do with the house?" panted Jimmy at last. +"Because we're using it just now." He gulped. "And I'm +ah--keeping cave." + +"All right," said Penfentenyou, and shut the hall door. + +"Jimmy, you unspeakable blackguard) Jimmy, you cur! You coward!" +(Lord Lundie's voice overbore the flood of melody.) "Come up +here! Giussieppe's saying something we don't understand." + +Jimmy listened and interpreted between hiccups. + +"He says you'd better play the organ, Bubbles, and let him do the +stalking. The monkey knows him." + +"By Jove, he's quite right," said Sir Christopher ,from the +landing. "Take it, Bubbles, at once." + +"My God!" said Lord Lundie in horror. + +The chase reverberated over our heads, from the attics to the +first floor and back again. Bodies and Voices met in collision +and argument, and once or twice the organ hit walls and doors. +Then it broke forth in a new manner. + +"He's playing it," said Jimmy. "I know his acute Justinian ear. +Are you fond of music?" + +"I think Lord Lundie plays very well for a beginner," I ventured. + +"Ah! That's the trained legal intellect. Like mastering a brief. +I haven't got it." He wiped his eyes and shook. + +"Hi!" said Penfentenyou, looking through the stained glass window +down the garden. "What's that!" + + * * * * * * * * * + + +A household removals van, in charge of four men, had halted at +the gate. A husband and his wife householders beyond +question--quavered irresolutely up the path. He looked tired. She +was certainly cross. In all this haphazard world the last couple +to understand a scientific experiment. + +I laid hands on Jimmy--the clamour above drowning speech and with +Penfentenyou's aid, propped him against the window, that he +should see. + +He saw, nodded, fell as an umbrella can fall, and kneeling, beat +his forehead on the shut door. Penfentenyou slid the bolt. + +The furniture men reinforced the two figures on the path, and +advanced, spreading generously. + +"Hadn't we better warn them up-stairs?" I suggested: + +"No. I'll die first!" said Jimmy. "I'm pretty near it now. +Besides, they called me names." + +I turned from the Artist to the Administrator. + +"Coeteris paribus, I think we'd better be going," said +Penfentenyou, dealer in crises. + +"Ta--take me with you," said Jimmy. "I've no reputation to lose, +but I'd like to watch 'em from--er--outside the picture." + +"There's always a modus viviendi," Penfentenyou murmured, and +tiptoed along the hall to a back door, which he opened quite +silently. We passed into a tangle of gooseberry bushes where, at +his statesmanlike example, we crawled on all fours, and regained +the hedge. + +Here we lay up, secure in our alibi. + +"But your firm,"--the woman was wailing to the furniture removals +men--"your firm promised me everything should be in yesterday. +And it's to-day! You should have been here yesterday!" + +"The last tenants ain't out yet, lydy," said one of them. + +Lord Lundie was rapidly improving in technique, though +organ-grinding, unlike the Law, is more of a calling than a +trade, and he hung occasionally on a dead centre. Giuseppe, I +think, was singing, but I could not understand the drift of Sir +Christopher's remarks. They were Spanish. + +The woman said something we did not catch. + +"You might 'ave sub-let it," the man insisted. "Or your gentleman +'ere might." + +"But I didn't. Send for the Police at once." + +"I wouldn't do that, lydy. They're only fruit pickers on a beano. +They aren't particular where they sleep." + +"D'you mean they've been sleeping there? I only had it cleaned +last week. Get them out." + +"Oh, if you say so, we'll 'ave 'em out of it in two twos. Alf, +fetch me the spare swingle-bar." + +"Don't! You'll knock the paint off the door. Get them out!" + +"What the 'ell else am I trying to do for you, lydy?" the man +answered with pathos; but the woman wheeled on her mate. + +"Edward! They're all drunk here, and they're all mad there. Do +something!" she said. + +Edward took one short step forward, and sighed "Hullo!" in the +direction of the turbulent house. The woman walked up and down, +the very figure of Domestic Tragedy. The furniture men swayed a +little on their heels, and - + +"Got him!" The shout rang through all the windows at once. It was +followed by a blood-hound-like bay from Sir Christopher, a +maniacal prestissimo on the organ, and loud cries, for Jimmy. But +Jimmy, at my side, rolled his congested eyeballs, owl-wise. + +"I never knew them," he said. "I'm an orphan." + + * * * * * * * * * + + +The front, door opened, and the three came forth to short-lived +triumph. I had never before seen a Law Lord dressed as for +tennis, with a stump-leg barrel-organ strapped to his shoulder. +But it is a shy bird in this plumage. Lord Lundie strove to +disembarrass himself of his accoutrements much as an ill-trained +Punch and Judy dog tries to escape backwards through his frilled +collar. Sir Christopher, covered with limewash, cherished a +bleeding thumb, and the almost crazy monkey tore at Giuseppe's +hair. + +The men on both sides reeled, but the woman stood her ground. +"Idiots!" she said, and once more, "Idiots!" + +I could have gladdened a few convicts of my acquaintance with a +photograph of Lord Lundie at that instant. + +"Madam," he began, wonderfully preserving the roll in his voice, +"it was a monkey." + +Sir Christopher sucked his thumb and nodded. + +"Take it away and go," she replied. "Go away!" + +I would have gone, and gladly, on this permission, but these +still strong men must ever be justifying themselves. Lord Lundie +turned to the husband, who for the first time spoke. + +"I have rented this house. I am moving in," he said. + +"We ought to have been in yesterday," the woman interrupted. + +"Yes. We ought to have been in yesterday. Have you slept there +overnight?" said the man peevishly. + +"No; I assure you we haven't," said Lord Lundie. + +"Then go away. Go quite away," cried the woman. + +They went--in single file down the path. They went silently, +restrapping the organ on its wheels, and rechaining the monkey to +the organ. + +"Damn it all!" said Penfentenyou. "They do face the music, and +they do stick by each other in private life!" + +"Ties of Common Funk," I answered. Giuseppe ran to the gate and +fled back to the possible world. Lord Lundie and Sir Christopher, +constrained by tradition, paced slowly. + +Then it came to pass that the woman, who walked behind them, +lifted up her eyes, and beheld the tree which they had dressed. + +"Stop!" she called; and they stopped. "Who did that?" + +There was no answer. The Eternal Bad Boy in every man hung its +head before the Eternal Mother in every woman. + +"Who put these disgusting things there?" she repeated. + +Suddenly Penfentenyou, Premier of his Colony in all but name, +left Jimmy and me, and appeared at the gate. (If he is not turned +out of office, that is how he will appear on the Day of +Armageddon.) + +"Well done you!" he cried zealously, and doffed his hat to the +woman. "Have you any children, madam?" he demanded. + +"Yes, two. They should have been here to-day. The firm promised +--" + +"Then we're not a minute too soon. That monkey escaped. It was a +very dangerous beast. 'Might have frightened your children into +fits. All the organ-grinder's fault! A most lucky thing these +gentlemen caught it when they did. I hope you aren't badly +mauled, Sir Christopher?" Shaken as I was (I wanted to get away +and laugh) I could not but admire the scoundrel's consummate tact +in leading his second highest trump. An ass would have introduced +Lord Lundie and they would not have believed him. + +It took the trick. The couple smiled, and gave respectful thanks +for their deliverance by such hands from such perils. + +"Not in the least," said Lord Lundie. "Anybody--any father would +have done as much, and pray don't apologize your mistake was +quite natural." A furniture man sniggered here, and Lord Lundie +rolled an Eye of Doom on their ranks. "By the way, if you have +trouble with these persons--they seem to have taken as much as is +good for them--please let me know. Er--Good morning!" + +They turned into the lane. + +"Heavens!" said Jimmy, brushing himself down. "Who's that real +man with the real head?" and we hurried after them, for they were +running unsteadily, squeaking like rabbits as they ran. We +overtook them in a little nut wood half a mile up the road, where +they had turned aside, and were rolling. So we rolled with them, +and ceased not till we had arrived at the extremity of +exhaustion. + +"You--you saw it all, then?" said Lord Lundie, rebuttoning his +nineteen-inch collar. + +"I saw it was a vital question from the first," responded +Penfentenyou, and blew his nose. + +"It was. By the way, d'you mind telling me your name?" + + +Summa. Penfentenyou's Great Idea has gone through, a little +chipped at the edges, but in fine and far-reaching shape. His +Opposite Number worked at it like a mule--a bewildered mule, +beaten from behind, coaxed from in front, and propped on either +soft side by Lord Lundie of the compressed mouth and the searing +tongue. + +Sir Christopher Tomling has been ravished from the Argentine, +where, after all, he was but preparing trade-routes for hostile +peoples, and now adorns the forefront of Penfentenyou's Advisory +Board. This was an unforeseen extra, as was Jimmy's gratis +full-length--(it will be in this year's Academy) of Penfentenyou, +who has returned to his own place. + +Now and again, from afar off, between the slam and bump of his +shifting scenery, the glare of his manipulated limelight, and the +controlled rolling of his thunder-drums, I catch his voice, +lifted in encouragement and advice to his fellow-countrymen. He +is quite sound on Ties of Sentiment, and--alone of Colonial +Statesmen ventures to talk of the Ties of Common Funk. + +Herein I have my reward. + + + + THE PUZZLER + + The Celt in all his variants from Builth to Ballyhoo, + His mental processes are plain--one knows what he will do, + And can logically predicate his finish by his start: + But the English--ah, the English!--they are quite a race apart. + + Their psychology is bovine, their outlook crude and rare; + They abandon vital matters to be tickled with a straw; + But the straw that they were tickled with--the chaff that + they were fed with-- + They convert into a weaver's beam to break their foeman's head + with. + + For undemocratic reasons and for motives not of State, + They arrive at their conclusions--largely inarticulate. + Being void of self-expression they confide their views to none; + But sometimes, in a smoking-room, one learns why things were + done. + + In telegraphic sentences, half swallowed at the ends, + They hint a matter's inwardness--and there the matter ends. + And while the Celt is talking from Valencia to Kirkwall, + The English--ah, the English!--don't say anything at all! + + + +LITTLE FOXES + +A TALE OF THE GIHON HUNT + +A fox came out of his earth on the banks of the Great River +Gihon, which waters Ethiopia. He saw a white man riding through +the dry dhurra-stalks, and, that his destiny might be fulfilled, +barked at him. + +The rider drew rein among the villagers round his stirrup. + +"What," said he, "is that?" + +"That," said the Sheikh of the village, "is a fox, O Excellency +Our Governor." + +"It is not, then, a jackal?" + +"No jackal, but Abu Hussein the father of cunning." + +"Also," the white man spoke half aloud, "I am Mudir of this +Province." + +"It is true," they cried. "Ya, Saart el Mudir" (O Excellency Our +Governor). + +The Great River Gihon, well used to the moods of kings, slid +between his mile-wide banks toward the sea, while the Governor +praised God in a loud and searching cry never before heard by the +river. + +When he had lowered his right forefinger from behind his right +ear, the villagers talked to him of their crops--barley, dhurrah, +millet, onions, and the like. The Governor stood in his stirrups. +North he looked up a strip of green cultivation a few hundred +yards wide that lay like a carpet between the river and the tawny +line of the desert. Sixty miles that strip stretched before him, +and as many behind. At every half-mile a groaning water-wheel +lifted the soft water from the river to the crops by way of a +mud-built aqueduct. A foot or so wide was the water-channel; five +foot or more high was the bank on which it ran, and its base was +broad in proportion. Abu Hussein, misnamed the Father of Cunning, +drank from the river below his earth, and his shadow was long in +the low sun. He could not understand the loud cry which the +Governor had cried. + +The Sheikh of the village spoke of the crops from which the +rulers of all lands draw revenue; but the Governor's eyes were +fixed, between his horse's ears, on the nearest water-channel. + +"Very like a ditch in Ireland," he murmured, and smiled, dreaming +of a razor-topped bank in distant Kildare. + +Encouraged by that smile, the Sheikh continued. "When crops fail +it is necessary to remit taxation. Then it is a good thing, O +Excellency Our Governor, that you come and see the crops which +have failed, and discover that we have not lied." + +"Assuredly." The Governor shortened his reins. The horse cantered +on, rose at the embankment of the water-channel, changed leg +cleverly on top, and hopped down in a cloud of golden dust. + +Abu Hussein from his earth watched with interest. He had never +before seen such things. + +"Assuredly," the Governor repeated, and came back by the way he +had gone. "It is always best to see for one's self." + +An ancient and still bullet-speckled stern-wheel steamer, with a +barge lashed to her side, came round the river bend. She whistled +to tell the Governor his dinner was ready, and the horse, seeing +his fodder piled on the barge, whinnied back. + +"Moreover," the Sheikh added, "in the days of the Oppression the +Emirs and their creatures dispossessed many people of their +lands. All up and down the river our people are waiting to return +to their lawful fields." + +"Judges have been appointed to settle that matter," said the +Governor. "They will presently come in steamers and hear the +witnesses." + +"Wherefore? Did the Judges kill the Emirs? We would rather be +judged by the men who executed God's judgment on the Emirs. We +would rather abide by your decision, O Excellency Our Governor." + +The Governor nodded. It was a year since he had seen the Emirs +stretched close and still round the reddened sheepskin where lay +El Mahdi, the Prophet of God. Now there remained no trace of +their dominion except the old steamer, once part of a Dervish +flotilla, which was his house and office. She sidled into the +shore, lowered a plank, and the Governor followed his horse +aboard. + +Lights burned on her till late, dully reflected in the river that +tugged at her mooring-ropes. The Governor read, not for the first +time, the administration reports of one John Jorrocks, M.F.H. + +"We shall need," he said suddenly to his Inspector, "about ten +couple. I'll get 'em when I go home. You'll be Whip, Baker?" + +The Inspector, who was not yet twenty-five, signified his assent +in the usual manner, while Abu Hussein barked at the vast desert +moon. + +"Ha!" said the Governor, coming out in his pyjamas, "we'll be +giving you capivi in another three months, my friend." + + * * * * * + +It was four, as a matter of fact, ere a steamer with a melodious +bargeful of hounds anchored at that landing. The Inspector leaped +down among them, and the homesick wanderers received him as a +brother. + +"Everybody fed 'em everything on board ship, but they're real +dainty hounds at bottom," the Governor explained. "That's Royal +you've got hold of--the pick of the bunch--and the bitch that's +got, hold of you--she's a little excited--is May Queen. Merriman, +out of Cottesmore Maudlin, you know." + +"I know. 'Grand old betch with the tan eyebrows,"' the Inspector +cooed. "Oh, Ben! I shall take an interest in life now. Hark to +'em! O hark!" + +Abu Hussein, under the high bank, went about his night's work. An +eddy carried his scent to the barge, and three villages heard the +crash of music that followed. Even then Abu Hussein did not know +better than to bark in reply. + +"Well, what about my Province?" the Governor asked. + +"Not so bad," the Inspector answered, with Royal's head between +his knees. "Of course, all the villages want remission of taxes, +but, as far as I can see, the whole country's stinkin' with +foxes. Our trouble will be choppin' 'em in cover. I've got a list +of the only villages entitled to any remission. What d'you call +this flat-sided, blue-mottled beast with the jowl?" + +"Beagle-boy. I have my doubts about him. Do you think we can get +two days a week?" + +"Easy; and as many byes as you please. The Sheikh of this village +here tells me that his barley has failed, and he wants a fifty +per cent remission." + +"We'll begin with him to-morrow, and look at his crops as we go. +Nothing like personal supervision," said the Governor. + +They began at sunrise. The pack flew off the barge in every +direction, and, after gambols, dug like terriers at Abu Hussein's +many earths. Then they drank themselves pot-bellied on Gihon +water while the Governor and the Inspector chastised them with +whips. Scorpions were added; for May Queen nosed one, and was +removed to the barge lamenting. Mystery (a puppy, alas!) met a +snake, and the blue-mottled Beagle-boy (never a dainty hound) ate +that which he should have passed by. Only Royal, of the Belvoir +tan head and the sad, discerning eyes, made any attempt to uphold +the honour of England before the watching village. + +"You can't expect everything," said the Governor after breakfast. + +"We got it, though--everything except foxes. Have you seen May +Queen's nose?" said the Inspector. + +"And Mystery's dead. We'll keep 'em coupled next time till we get +well in among the crops. I say, what a babbling body-snatcher +that Beagle-boy is! Ought to be drowned!" + +"They bury people so damn casual hereabouts. Give him another +chance," the Inspector pleaded, not knowing that he should live +to repent most bitterly. + +"Talkin' of chances," said the Governor, "this Sheikh lies about +his barley bein' a failure. If it's high enough to hide a hound +at this time of year, it's all right. And he wants a fifty per +cent remission, you said?" + +"You didn't go on past the melon patch where I tried to turn +Wanderer. It's all burned up from there on to the desert. His +other water-wheel has broken down, too," the Inspector replied. + +"Very good. We'll split the difference and allow him twenty-five +per cent off. Where'll we meet to-morrow?" + +"There's some trouble among the villages down the river about +their land-titles. It's good goin' ground there, too," the +Inspector said. + +The next meet, then, was some twenty miles down the river, and +the pack were not enlarged till they were fairly among the +fields. Abu Hussein was there in force--four of him. Four +delirious hunts of four minutes each--four hounds per fox--ended +in four earths just above the river. All the village looked on. + +"We forgot about the earths. The banks are riddled with 'em. +This'll defeat us," said the Inspector. + +"Wait a moment!" The Governor drew forth a sneezing hound. "I've +just remembered I'm Governor of these parts." + +"Then turn out a black battalion to stop for us. We'll need 'em, +old man." + +The Governor straightened his back. "Give ear, O people!" he +cried. "I make a new Law!" + +The villagers closed in. He called:-- + +"Henceforward I will give one dollar to the man on whose land Abu +Hussein is found. And another dollar"--he held up the coin--"to +the man on whose land these dogs shall kill him. But to the man +on whose land Abu Hussein shall run into a hole such as is this +hole, I will give not dollars, but a most unmeasurable beating. +Is it understood?" + +"Our Excellency," a man stepped forth, "on my land Abu Hussein +was found this morning. Is it not so, brothers?" + +None denied. The Governor tossed him over four dollars without a +word. + +"On my land they all went into their holes," cried another. +"Therefore I must be beaten." + +"Not so. The land is mine, and mine are the beatings." + +This second speaker thrust forward his shoulders already bared, +and the villagers shouted. + +"Hullo! Two men anxious to be licked? There must be some swindle +about the land," said the Governor. Then in the local vernacular: +"What are your rights to the beating?" + +As a river-reach changes beneath a slant of the sun, that which +had been a scattered mob changed to a court of most ancient +justice. The hounds tore and sobbed at Abu Hussein's hearthstone, +all unnoticed among the legs of the witnesses, and Gihon, also +accustomed to laws, purred approval. + +"You will not wait till the Judges come up the river to settle +the dispute?" said the Governor at last. + +"No!" shouted all the village save the man who had first asked to +be beaten. "We will abide by Our Excellency's decision. Let Our +Excellency turn out the creatures of the Emirs who stole our land +in the days of the Oppression." + +"And thou sayest?" the Governor turned to the man who had first +asked to be beaten. + +"I say 1 will wait till the wise Judges come down in the steamer. +Then I will bring my many witnesses," he replied. + +"He is rich. He will bring many witnesses," the village Sheikh +muttered. + +"No need. Thy own mouth condemns thee!" the Governor cried. "No +man lawfully entitled to his land would wait one hour before +entering upon it. Stand aside!" The man, fell back, and the +village jeered him. + +The second claimant stooped quickly beneath the lifted +hunting-crop. The village rejoiced. + +"Oh, Such an one; Son of such an one," said the Governor, +prompted by the Sheikh, "learn, from the day when I send the +order, to block up all the holes where Abu Hussein may hide +on--thy--land!" + +The light flicks ended. The man stood up triumphant. By that +accolade had the Supreme Government acknowledged his title before +all men. + +While the village praised the perspicacity of the Governor, a +naked, pock-marked child strode forward to the earth, and stood +on one leg, unconcerned as a young stork. + +"Hal" he said, hands behind his back. "This should be blocked up +with bundles of dhurra stalks--or, better, bundles of thorns." + +"Better thorns," said the Governor. "Thick ends innermost." + +The child nodded gravely and squatted on the sand. + +"An evil day for thee, Abu Hussein," he shrilled into the mouth +of the earth. "A day of obstacles to thy flagitious returns in +the morning." + +"Who is it?" the Governor asked the Sheikh. "It thinks." + +"Farag the Fatherless. His people were slain in the days of the +Oppression. The man to whom Our Excellency has awarded the land +is, as it were, his maternal uncle." + +"Will it come with me and feed the big dogs?" said the Governor. + +The other peering children drew back. "Run!" they cried. "Our +Excellency will feed Farag to the big dogs." + +"I will come," said Farag. "And I will never go." He threw his +arm round Royal's neck, and the wise beast licked his face. + +"Binjamin, by Jove!" the Inspector cried. + +"No!" said the Governor. "I believe he has the makings of a James +Pigg!" + +Farag waved his hand to his uncle, and led Royal on to the barge. +The rest of the pack followed. + + * * * * * + +Gihon, that had seen many sports, learned to know the Hunt barge +well. He met her rounding his bends on grey December dawns to +music wild and lamentable as the almost forgotten throb of +Dervish drums, when, high above Royal's tenor bell, sharper even +than lying Beagle-boy's falsetto break, Farag chanted deathless +war against Abu Hussein and all his seed. At sunrise the river +would shoulder her carefully into her place, and listen to the +rush and scutter of the pack fleeing up the gang-plank, and the +tramp of the Governor's Arab behind them. They would pass over +the brow into the dewless crops where Gihon, low and shrunken, +could only guess what they were about when Abu Hussein flew down +the bank to scratch at a stopped earth, and flew back into the +barley again. As Farag had foretold, it was evil days for Abu +Hussein ere he learned to take the necessary steps and to get +away crisply. Sometimes Gihon saw the whole procession of the +Hunt silhouetted against the morning-blue, bearing him company +for many merry miles. At every half mile the horses and the +donkeys jumped the water-channels--up, on, change your leg, and +off again like figures in a zoetrope, till they grew small along +the line of waterwheels. Then Gibon waited their rustling return +through the crops, and took them to rest on his bosom at ten +o'clock. While the horses ate, and Farag slept with his head on +Royal's flank, the Governor and his Inspector worked for the good +of the Hunt and his Province. + +After a little time there was no need to beat any man for +neglecting his earths. The steamer's destination was telegraphed +from waterwheel to waterwheel, and the villagers stopped out and +put to according. If an earth were overlooked, it meant some +dispute as to the ownership of the land, and then and there the +Hunt checked and settled it in this wise: The Governor and the +Inspector side by side, but the latter half a horse's length to +the rear; both bare-shouldered claimants well in front; the +villagers half-mooned behind them, and Farag with the pack, who +quite understood the performance, sitting down on the left. +Twenty minutes were enough to settle the most complicated case, +for, as the Governor said to a judge on the steamer, "One gets at +the truth in a hunting-field a heap quicker than in your +lawcourts." + +"But when the evidence is conflicting?" the Judge suggested. + +"Watch the field. They'll throw tongue fast enough if you're +running a wrong scent. You've never had an appeal from one of my +decisions yet." + +The Sheikhs on horseback--the lesser folk on clever donkeys--the +children so despised by Farag soon understood that villages which +repaired their waterwheels and channels stood highest in the +Governor's favour. He bought their barley, for his horses. + +"Channels," he said, "are necessary that we may all jump them. +They are necessary, moreover, for the crops. Let there be many +wheels and sound channels--and much good barley." + +"Without money," replied an aged Sheikh, "there are no +waterwheels." + +"I will lend the money," said the Governor. + +"At what interest, O Our Excellency?" + +"Take you two of May Queen's puppies to bring up in your village +in such a manner that they do not eat filth, nor lose their hair, +nor catch fever from lying in the sun, but become wise hounds." + +"Like Ray-yal--not like Bigglebai?" (Already it was an insult +along the River to compare a man to the shifty anthropophagous +blue-mottled harrier.) + +"Certainly, like Ray-yal--not in the least like Bigglebai. That +shall be the interest on the loan. Let the puppies thrive and the +waterwheel be built, and I shall be content," said the Governor. + +"The wheel shall be built, but, O Our Excellency, if by God's +favour the pups grow to be well-smelters, not filth-eaters, not +unaccustomed to their names, not lawless, who will do them and me +justice at the time of judging the young dogs?" + +"Hounds, man, hounds! Ha-wands, O Sheikh, we call them in their +manhood." + +"The ha-wands when they are judged at the Sha-ho. I have +unfriends down the river to whom Our Excellency has also +entrusted ha-wands to bring up." + +"Puppies, man! Pah-peaz we call them, O Sheikh, in their +childhood." + +"Pah-peat. My enemies may judge my pah-peaz unjustly at the +Sha-ho. This must be thought of." + +"I see the obstacle. Hear now! If the new waterwheel is built in +a month without oppression, thou, O Sheikh, shalt be named one of +the judges to judge the pah-peaz at the Sha-ho. Is it +understood?" + +"Understood. We will build the wheel. I and my seed are +responsible for the repayment of the loan. Where are my pah-peaz? +If they eat fowls, must they on any account eat the feathers?" + +"On no account must they eat the feathers. Farag in the barge +will tell thee how they are to live." + +There is no instance of any default on the Governor's personal +and unauthorized loans, for which they called him the Father of +Waterwheels. But the first puppyshow at the capital needed +enormous tact and the presence of a black battalion +ostentatiously drilling in the barrack square to prevent trouble +after the prize-giving. + +But who can chronicle the glories of the Gihon Hunt--or their +shames? Who remembers the kill in the market-place, when the +Governor bade the assembled sheikhs and warriors observe how the +hounds would instantly devour the body of Abu Hussein; but how, +when he had scientifically broken it up, the weary pack turned +from it in loathing, and Farag wept because he said the world's +face had been blackened? What men who have not yet ridden beyond +the sound of any horn recall the midnight run which +ended--Beagleboy leading--among tombs; the hasty whip-off, and +the oath, taken Abo e bones, to forget the worry? The desert run, +when Abu Hussein forsook the cultivation, and made a six-mile +point to earth in a desolate khor--when strange armed riders on +camels swooped out of a ravine, and instead of giving battle, +offered to take the tired hounds home on their beasts. Which they +did, and vanished. + +Above all, who remembers the death of Royal, when a certain +Sheikh wept above the body of the stainless hound as it might +have been his son's--and that day the Hunt rode no more? The +badly-kept log-book says little of this, but at the end of their +second season (forty-nine brace) appears the dark entry: "New +blood badly wanted. They are beginning to listen to beagle-boy." + + * * * * * + +The Inspector attended to the matter when his leave fell due. + +"Remember," said the Governor, "you must get us the best blood in +England--real, dainty hounds--expense no object, but don't trust +your own judgment. Present my letters of introduction, and take +what they give you. + +The Inspector presented his letters in a society where they make +much of horses, more of hounds, and are tolerably civil to men +who can ride. They passed him from house to house, mounted him +according to his merits, and fed him, after five years of goat +chop and Worcester sauce, perhaps a thought too richly. + +The seat or castle where he made his great coup does not much +matter. Four Masters of Foxhounds were at table, and in a mellow +hour the Inspector told them stories of the Gihon Hunt. He ended: +"Ben said I wasn't to trust my own judgment about hounds, but I +think there ought to be a special tariff for Empire-makers." + +As soon as his hosts could speak, they reassured him on this +point. + +"And now tell us about your first puppy-show all over again," +said one. + +"And about the earth-stoppin'. Was that all Ben's own invention?" +said another. + +"Wait a moment," said a large, clean-shaven man--not an +M.F.H.--at the end of the table. "Are your villagers habitually +beaten by your Governor when they fail to stop foxes' holes?" + +The tone and the phrase were enough even if, as the Inspector +confessed afterwards, the big, blue double-chinned man had not +looked so like Beagle-boy. He took him on for the honour of +Ethiopia. + +"We only hunt twice a week--sometimes three times. I've never +known a man chastised more than four times a week unless there's +a bye." + +The large loose-lipped man flung his napkin down, came round the +table, cast himself into the chair next the Inspector, and leaned +forward earnestly, so that he breathed in the Inspector's face. + +"Chastised with what?" he said. + +"With the kourbash--on the feet. A kourbash is a strip of old +hippo-hide with a sort of keel on it, like the cutting edge of a +boar's tusk. But we use the rounded side for a first offender." + +"And do any consequences follow this sort of thing? For the +victim, I mean--not for you?" + +Ve-ry rarely. Let me be fair. I've never seen a man die under the +lash, but gangrene may set up if the kourbash has been pickled." + +"Pickled in what?" All the table was still and interested. + +"In copperas, of course. Didn't you know that" said the +Inspector. + +"Thank God I didn't." The large man sputtered visibly. + +The Inspector wiped his face and grew bolder. + +"You mustn't think we're careless about our earthstoppers. We've +a Hunt fund for hot tar. Tar's a splendid dressing if the +toe-nails aren't beaten off. But huntin' as large a country as we +do, we mayn't be back at that village for a month, and if the +dressings ain't renewed, and gangrene sets in, often as not you +find your man pegging about on his stumps. We've a well-known +local name for 'em down the river. We call 'em the Mudir's +Cranes. You see, I persuaded the Governor only to bastinado on +one foot." + +"On one foot? The Mudir's Cranes!" The large man turned purple to +the top of his bald head. " Would you mind giving me the local +word for Mudir's Cranes?" + +From a too well-stocked memory the Inspector drew one short +adhesive word which surprises by itself even unblushing Ethiopia. +He spelt it out, saw the large man write it down on his cuff and +withdraw. Then the Inspector translated a few of its +significations and implications to the four Masters of Foxhounds. +He left three days later with eight couple of the best hounds in +England--a free and a friendly and an ample gift from four packs +to the Gihon Hunt. He had honestly meant to undeceive the large +blue mottled man, but somehow forgot about it. + +The new draft marks a new chapter in the Hunt's history. From an +isolated phenomenon in a barge it became a permanent institution +with brick-built kennels ashore, and an influence social, +political, and administrative, co-terminous with the boundaries +of the province. Ben, the Governor, departed to England, where he +kept a pack of real dainty hounds, but never ceased to long for +the old lawless lot. His successors were ex-officio Masters of +the Gihon Hunt, as all Inspectors were Whips. For one reason; +Farag, the kennel huntsman, in khaki and puttees, would obey +nothing under the rank of an Excellency, and the hounds would +obey no one but Farag; for another, the best way of estimating +crop returns and revenue was by riding straight to hounds; for a +third, though Judges down the river issued signed and sealed +land-titles to all lawful owners, yet public opinion along the +river never held any such title valid till it had been confirmed, +according to precedent, by the Governor's hunting crop in the +hunting field, above the wilfully neglected earth. True, the +ceremony had been cut down to three mere taps on the shoulder, +but Governors who tried to evade that much found themselves and +their office compassed about with a great cloud of witnesses who +took up their time with lawsuits and, worse still, neglected the +puppies. The older sheikhs, indeed, stood out for the +unmeasurable beatings of the old days--the sharper the +punishment, they argued, the surer the title; but here the hand +of modern progress was against them, and they contented +themselves with telling tales of Ben the first Governor, whom +they called the Father of Waterwheels, and of that heroic age +when men, horses, and hounds were worth following. + +This same Modern Progress which brought dog biscuit and brass +water-taps to the kennels was at work all over the world. Forces, +Activities, and Movements sprang into being, agitated themselves, +coalesced, and, in one political avalanche, overwhelmed a +bewildered, and not in the least intending it, England. The +echoes of the New Era were borne into the Province on the wings +of inexplicable cables. The Gihon Hunt read speeches and +sentiments, and policies which amazed them, and they thanked God, +prematurely, that their Province was too far off, too hot, and +too hard worked to be reached by those speakers or their +policies. But they, with others, under-estimated the scope and +purpose of the New Era. + +One by one, the Provinces of the Empire were hauled up and +baited, hit and held, lashed under the belly, and forced back on +their haunches for the amusement of their new masters in the +parish of Westminster. One by one they fell away, sore and angry, +to compare stripes with each other at the ends of the uneasy +earth. Even so the Gihon Hunt, like Abu Hussein in the old days, +did not understand. Then it reached them through the Press that +they habitually flogged to death good revenue-paying cultivators +who neglected to stop earths; but that the few, the very few who +did not die under hippohide whips soaked in copperas, walked +about on their gangrenous ankle-bones, and were known in derision +as the Mudir's Cranes. The charges were vouched for in the House +of Commons by a Mr. Lethabie Groombride, who had formed a +Committee, and was disseminating literature: The Province +groaned; the Inspector--now an Inspector of Inspectors--whistled. +He had forgotten the gentleman who sputtered in people's faces. + +"He shouldn't have looked so like Beagle-boy!" was his sole +defence when he met the Governor at breakfast on the steamer +after a meet. + +"You shouldn't have joked with an animal of that class," said +Peter the Governor. "Look what Farag has brought me!" + +It was a pamphlet, signed on behalf of a Committee by a lady +secretary, but composed by some person who thoroughly understood +the language of the Province. After telling the tale of the +beatings, it recommended all the beaten to institute criminal +proceedings against their Governor, and, as soon as might be, to +rise against English oppression and tyranny. Such documents were +new in Ethiopia in those days. + +The Inspector read the last half page. "But--but," he stammered, +"this is impossible. White men don't write this sort of stuff." + +"Don't they, just?" said the Governor. "They get made Cabinet +Ministers for doing it too. I went home last year. I know." + +"It'll blow over," said the Inspector weakly. + +"Not it. Groombride is coming down here to investigate the matter +in a few days." + +"For himself?" + +"The Imperial Government's behind him. Perhaps you'd like to look +t my orders." The Governor laid down an uncoded cable. The +whiplash to it ran: "You will afford Mr. Groombride every +facility for his inquiry, and will be held responsible that no +obstacles are put in his way to the fullest possible examination +of any witnesses which he may consider necessary. He will be +accompanied by his own interpreter, who must not be tampered +with." + +"That's to me--Governor of the Province!" said Peter the +Governor. + +"It seems about enough," the Inspector answered. + +Farag, kennel-huntsman, entered the saloon, as was his privilege. + +"My uncle, who was beaten by the Father of Waterwheels, would +approach, O Excellency," he said, "and there are others on the +bank." + +"Admit," said the Governor. + +There tramped aboard sheikhs and villagers to the number of +seventeen. In each man's hand was a copy of the pamphlet; in each +man's eye terror and uneasiness of the sort that Governors spend +and are spent to clear away. Farag's uncle, now Sheikh of the +village, spoke: "It is written in this book, Excellency, that the +beatings whereby we hold our lands are all valueless. It is +written that every man who received such a beating from the +Father of Waterwheels who slow the Emirs, should instantly begin +a lawsuit, because the title to his land is not valid." + +"It is so written. We do not wish lawsuits. We wish to hold the +land as it was given to us after the days of the Oppression," +they cried. + +The Governor glanced at the Inspector. This was serious. To cast +doubt on the ownership of land means, in Ethiopia, the letting in +of waters, and the getting out of troops. + +"Your titles are good," said the Governor. The Inspector +confirmed with a nod. + +"Then what is the meaning of these writings which came from down +the river where the Judges are?" Farag's uncle waved his copy. +"By whose order are we ordered to slay you, O Excellency Our +Governor?" + +"It is not written that you are to slay me." + +"Not in those very words, but if we leave an earth unstopped, it +is the same as though we wished to save Abu Hussein from the +hounds. These writings say: 'Abolish your rulers.' How can we +abolish except we kill? We hear rumours of one who comes from +down the river soon to lead us to kill." + +"Fools!" said the Governor. "Your titles are good. This is +madness!" + +"It is so written," they answered like a pack. + +"Listen," said the Inspector smoothly. "I know who caused the +writings to be written and sent. He is a man of a blue-mottled +jowl, in aspect like Bigglebai who ate unclean matters. He will +come up the river and will give tongue about the beatings." + +"Will he impeach our land-titles? An evil day for him!" + +"Go slow, Baker," the Governor whispered. "They'll kill him if +they get scared about their land." + +"I tell a parable." The Inspector lit a cigarette. "Declare which +of you took to walk the children of Milkmaid?" + +"Melik-meid First or Second?" said Farag quickly. + +"The second--the one which was lamed by the thorn." + +"No--no. Melik-meid the Second strained her shoulder leaping my +water-channel," a sheikh cried. "Melik-meid the First was lamed +by the thorns on the day when Our Excellency fell thrice." + +"True--true. The second Melik-meid's mate was Malvolio, the pied +hound," said the Inspector. + +"I had two of the second Melik-meid's pups," said Farag's uncle. +"They died of the madness in their ninth month." + +"And how did they do before they died?" said the Inspector. + +"They ran about in the sun, and slavered at the mouth till they +died." + +"Wherefore?" + +"God knows. He sent the madness. It was no fault of mine." + +"Thy own mouth hath answered thee." The Inspector laughed. "It is +with men as it is with dogs. God afflicts some with a madness. It +is no fault of ours if such men run about in the sun and froth at +the mouth. The man who is coming will emit spray from his mouth +in speaking, and will always edge and push in towards his +hearers. When ye see and hear him ye will understand that he is +afflicted of God: being mad. He is in God's hands." + +"But our titles--are our titles to our lands good?" the crowd +repeated. + +"Your titles are in my hands--they are good," said the Governor. + +"And he who wrote the writings is an afflicted of God?" said +Farag's uncle. + +"The Inspector hath said it," cried the Governor. "Ye will see +when the man comes. O sheikhs and men, have we ridden together +and walked puppies together, and bought and sold barley for the +horses that after these years we should run riot on the scent of +a madman--an afflicted of God?" + +"But the Hunt pays us to kill mad jackals," said Farag's uncle. +"And he who questions my titles to my land " + +"Aahh! 'Ware riot!" The Governor's hunting-crop cracked like a +three-pounder. "By Allah," he thundered, "if the afflicted of God +come to any harm at your hands, I myself will shoot every hound +and every puppy, and the Hunt shall ride no more. On your heads +be it. Go in peace, and tell the others." + +"The Hunt shall ride no more," said Farag's uncle. "Then how can +the land be governed? No--no, O Excellency Our Governor, we will +not harm a hair on the head of the afflicted of God. He shall be +to us as is Abu Hussein's wife in the breeding season." + +When they were gone the Governor mopped his forehead. + +"We must put a few soldiers in every village this Groombride +visits, Baker. Tell 'em to keep out of sight, and have an eye on +the villagers. He's trying 'em rather high." + +"O Excellency," said the smooth voice of Farag, laying the Field +and Country Life square on the table, "is the afflicted of God +who resembles Bigglebai one with the man whom the Inspector met +in the great house in England, and to whom he told the tale of +the Mudir's Cranes?" + +"The same man, Farag," said the Inspector. + +"I have often heard the Inspector tell the tale to ,Our +Excellency at feeding-time in the kennels; but since I am in the +Government service I have never told it to my people. May I loose +that tale among the villages?" + + * * * * * + +The Governor nodded. " No harm," said he. + +The details of Mr. Groombride's arrival, with his interpreter, +whom he proposed should eat with him at the Governor's table, his +allocution to the Governor on the New Movement, and the sins of +Imperialism, I purposely omit. At three in the afternoon Mr. +Groombride said: "I will go out now and address your victims in +this village." + +"Won't you find it rather hot?" said the Governor. "They +generally take 'a nap till sunset at this time of year." + +Mr. Groombride's large, loose lips set. "That," he replied +pointedly, "would be enough to decide me. I fear you have not +quite mastered your instructions. May I ask you to send for my +interpreter? I hope he has not been tampered with by your +subordinates." + +He was a yellowish boy called Abdul, who had well eaten and drunk +with Farag. The Inspector, by the way, was not present at the +meal. + +"At whatever risk, I shall go unattended," said Mr. Groombride. +"Your presence would cow them -from giving evidence. Abdul, my +good friend, would you very kindly open the umbrella?" + +He passed up the gang-plank to the village, and with no more +prelude than a Salvation Army picket in a Portsmouth slum, cried: +"Oh, my brothers!" + +He did not guess how his path had been prepared. The village was +widely awake. Farag, in loose, flowing garments, quite unlike a +kennel huntsman's khaki and puttees, leaned against the wall of +his uncle's house. "Come and see the afflicted of God,." he cried +musically, "whose face, indeed, resembles that of Bigglebai." + +The village came, and decided that on the whole Farag was right. + +"I can't quite catch what they are saying," said Mr. Groombride. + +"They saying they very much pleased to see you, Sar," Adbul +interpreted. + +"Then I do think they might have sent a deputation to the +steamer; but I suppose they were frightened of the officials. +Tell them not to be frightened, Abdul." + +"He says you are not to be frightened," Abdul explained. A child +here sputtered with laughter. "Refrain from mirth," Farag cried. +"The afflicted of God is the guest of The Excellency Our +Governor. We are responsible for every hair of his head." + +"He has none," a voice spoke. "He has the white and the shining +mange." + +"Now tell them what I have come for, Abdul, and please keep the +umbrella well up. I think I shall reserve myself for my little +vernacular speech at the end." + +"Approach! Look! Listen!" Abdul chanted. "The afflicted of God +will now make sport. Presently he will speak in your tongue, and +will consume you with mirth. I have been his servant for three +weeks. I will tell you about his undergarments and his perfumes +for his head." + +He told them at length. + +"And didst thou take any of his perfume bottles?" said Farag at +the end. + +"I am his servant. I took two," Abdul replied. + +"Ask him," said Farag's uncle, "what he knows about our +land-titles. Ye young men are all alike." He waved a pamphlet. +Mr. Groombride smiled to see how the seed sown in London had +borne fruit by Gihon. Lo! All the seniors held copies of the +pamphlet. + +"He knows less than a buffalo. He told me on the steamer that he +was driven out of his own land by Demah-Kerazi which is a devil +inhabiting crowds and assemblies," said Abdul. + +"Allah between us and evil!" a woman cackled from the darkness of +a hut. "Come in, children, he may have the Evil Eye." + +"No, my aunt," said Farag. "No afflicted of God has an evil eye. +Wait till ye hear his mirth-provoking speech which he will +deliver. I have heard it twice from Abdul." + +"They seem very quick to grasp the point. How far have you got, +Abdul?" + +"All about the beatings, sar. They are highly interested." + +"Don't forget about the local self-government, and please hold +the umbrella over me. It is hopeless to destroy unless one first +builds up." + +"He may not have the Evil Eye," Farag's uncle grunted, "but his +devil led him too certainly to question my land-title. Ask him +whether he still doubts my land-title?" + +"Or mine, or mine?" cried the elders. + +"What odds? He is an afflicted of God," Farag called. "Remember +the tale I told you." + +"Yes, but he is an Englishman, and doubtless of influence, or Our +Excellency would not entertain him. Bid the down-country jackass +ask him." + +"Sar," said Abdul, "these people, much fearing they may be turned +out of their land in consequence of your remarks. Therefore they +ask you to make promise no bad consequences following your +visit." + +Mr. Groombride held his breath and turned purple. Then he stamped +his foot. + +"Tell them," he cried, "that if a hair of any one of their heads +is touched by any official on any account whatever, all England +shall ring with it. Good God! What callous oppression! The dark +places of the earth are full of cruelty." He wiped his face, and +throwing out his arms cried: "Tell them, oh! tell the poor, serfs +not to be afraid of me. Tell them I come to redress their +wrongs--not, heaven knows, to add to their burden." + +The long-drawn gurgle of the practised public speaker pleased +them much. + +"That is how the new water-tap runs out in the kennel," said +Farag. "The Excellency Our Governor entertains him that he may +make sport. Make him say the mirth-moving speech." + +"What did he say about my land-titles?" Farag's uncle was not to +be turned. + +"He says," Farag interpreted, "that he desires, nothing better +than that you should live on your lands in peace. He talks as +though he believed himself to be Governor." + +"Well. We here are all witnesses to what he has said. Now go +forward with the sport." Farag's uncle smoothed his garments. +"How diversely hath Allah made His creatures! On one He bestows +strength to slay Emirs; another He causes to go mad and wander in +the sun, like the afflicted sons of Melik-meid." + +"Yes, and to emit spray from the mouth, as the Inspector told us. +All will happen as the Inspector foretold," said Farag. " I have +never yet seen the Inspector thrown out during any run." + +"I think," Abdul plucked at Mr. Groombride's sleeves, "I think +perhaps it is better now, Sar, if you give your fine little +native speech. They not understanding English, but much pleased +at your condescensions." + +"Condescensions?" Mr. Groombride spun round. "If they only knew +how I felt towards them in my heart! If I could express a tithe +of my feelings! I must stay here and learn the language. Hold up +the umbrella, Abdull I think my little speech will show them I +know something of their vie intime." + +It was a short, simple; carefully learned address, and the +accent, supervised by Abdul on the steamer, allowed the hearers +to guess its meaning, which was a request to see one of the +Mudir's Cranes; since the desire of the speaker's life, the +object to which he would consecrate his days, was to improve the +condition of the Mudir's Cranes. But first he must behold them +with his own eyes. Would, then, his brethren, whom he loved, show +him a Mudir's Crane whom he desired to love? + +Once, twice, and again in his peroration he repeated his demand, +using always--that they might see he was acquainted with their +local argot--using always, I say, the word which the Inspector +had given him in England long ago--the short, adhesive word +which, by itself, surprises even unblushing Ethiopia. + +There are limits to the sublime politeness of an ancient people. +A bulky, blue-chinned man in white clothes, his name red-lettered +across his lower shirtfront, spluttering from under a green-lined +umbrella almost tearful appeals to be introduced to the +Unintroducible; naming loudly the Unnameable; dancing, as it +seemed, in perverse joy at mere mention of the +Unmentionable--found those limits. There was a moment's hush, and +then such mirth as Gihon through his centuries had never heard--a +roar like to the roar of his own cataracts in flood. Children +cast themselves on the ground, and rolled back and forth cheering +and whooping; strong men, their faces hidden in their clothes, +swayed in silence, till the agony became insupportable, and they +threw up their heads and bayed at the sun; women, mothers and +virgins, shrilled shriek upon mounting shriek, and slapped their +thighs as it might have been the roll of musketry. When they +tried to draw breath, some half-strangled voice would quack out +the word, and the riot began afresh. Last to fall was the +city-trained Abdul. He held on to the edge of apoplexy, then +collapsed, throwing the umbrella from him. + +Mr. Groombride should not be judged too harshly. Exercise and +strong emotion under a hot sun, the shock of public ingratitude, +for the moment rued his spirit. He furled the umbrella, and with +t beat the prostrate Abdul, crying that he had been betrayed. In +which posture the Inspector, on horseback, followed by the +Governor, suddenly found him. + + * * * * * + +"That's all very well," said the Inspector, when he had taken +Abdul's dramatically dying depositions on the steamer, "but you +can't hammer a native merely because he laughs at you. I see +nothing for it but the law to take its course." + +"You might reduce the charge to--er--tampering with an +interpreter," said the Governor. Mr. Groombride was too far gone +to be comforted. + +"It's the publicity that I fear," he wailed. "Is there no +possible means of hushing up the affair? You don't know what a +question--a single question in the House means to a man of my +position--the ruin of my political career, I assure you." + +"I shouldn't have imagined it," said the Governor thoughtfully. + +"And, though perhaps I ought not to say it, I am not without +honour in my own country--or influence. A word in season, as you +know, Your Excellency. It might carry an official far." + +The Governor shuddered. + +"Yes, that had to come too," he said to himself. "Well, look +here. If I tell this man of yours to withdraw the charge against +you, you can go to Gehenna for aught I care. The only condition I +make is that if you write--I suppose that's part of your business +about your travels, you don't praise me!" + +So far Mr. Groombride has loyally adhered to this understanding. + + + + GALLIO'S SONG + + All day long to the judgment-seat + The crazed Provincials drew-- + All day long at their ruler's feet + Howled for the blood of the Jew. + Insurrection with one accord + Banded itself and woke: + And Paul was about to open his mouth + When Achaia's Deputy spoke + + "Whether the God descend from above + Or the man ascend upon high, + Whether this maker of tents be Jove + Or a younger deity-- + I will be no judge between your gods + And your godless bickerings, + Lictor, drive them hence with rods-- + I care for none of these things! + + "Were it a question of lawful due + Or a labourer's hire denied, + Reason would I should bear with you + And order it well to be tried + But this is a question of words and names + And I know the strife it brings, + I will not pass upon any your claims. + I care for none of these things. + + "One thing only I see most clear, + As I pray you also see. + Claudius Caesar hath set me here + Rome's Deputy to be. + It is Her peace that ye go to break + Not mine, nor any king's, + But, touching your clamour of 'conscience sake,' + I care for none of these things!" + + + +THE HOUSE SURGEON + +On an evening after Easter Day, I sat at a table in a homeward +bound steamer's smoking-room, where half a dozen of us told ghost +stories. As our party broke up a man, playing Patience in the +next alcove, said to me: "I didn't quite catch the end of that +last story about the Curse on the family's first-born." + +"It turned out to be drains," I explained. "As soon as new ones +were put into the house the Curse was lifted, I believe. I never +knew the people myself." + +"Ah! I've had my drains up twice; I'm on gravel too." + +"You don't mean to say you've a ghost in your house? Why didn't +you join our party?" + +"Any more orders, gentlemen, before the bar closes?" the steward +interrupted. + +"Sit down again, and have one with me," said the Patience player. +"No, it isn't a ghost. Our trouble is more depression than +anything else." + +"How interesting? Then it's nothing any one can see?" + +"It's--it's nothing worse than a little depression. And the odd +part is that there hasn't been a death in the house since it was +built--in 1863. The lawyer said so. That decided me--my good +lady, rather and he made me pay an extra thousand for it." + +"How curious. Unusual, too!" I said. + +"Yes; ain't it? It was built for three sisters--Moultrie was the +name--three old maids. They all lived together; the eldest owned +it. I bought it from her lawyer a few years ago, and if I've +spent a pound on the place first and last, I must have spent five +thousand. Electric light, new servants' wing, garden--all that +sort of thing. A man and his family ought to be happy after so +much expense, ain't it?" He looked at me through the bottom of +his glass. + +"Does it affect your family much?" + +"My good lady--she's a Greek, by the way--and myself are +middle-aged. We can bear up against depression; but it's hard on +my little girl. I say little; but she's twenty. We send her +visiting to escape it. She almost lived at hotels and hydros, +last year, but that isn't pleasant for her. She used to be a +canary--a perfect canary--always singing. You ought to hear her. +She doesn't sing now. That sort of thing's unwholesome for the +young, ain't it?" + +"Can't you get rid of the place?" I suggested. + +"Not except at a sacrifice, and we are fond of it. Just suits us +three. We'd love it if we were allowed." + +"What do you mean by not being allowed?" + +"I mean because of the depression. It spoils everything." + +"What's it like exactly?" + +"I couldn't very well explain. It must be seen to be appreciated, +as the auctioneers say. Now, I was much impressed by the story +you were telling just now." + +"It wasn't true," I said. + +"My tale is true. If you would do me the pleasure to come down +and spend a night at my little place, you'd learn more than you +would if I talked till morning. Very likely 'twouldn't touch your +good self at all. You might be--immune, ain't it? On the other +hand, if this influenza,--influence does happen to affect you, +why, I think it will be an experience." + +While he talked he gave me his card, and I read his name was L. +Maxwell M'Leod, Esq., of Holmescroft. A City address was tucked +away in a corner. + +"My business," he added, "used to be furs. If you are interested +in furs--I've given thirty years of my life to 'em." + +"You're very kind," I murmured. + +"Far from it, I assure you. I can meet you next Saturday +afternoon anywhere in London you choose to name, and I'll be only +too happy to motor you down. It ought to be a delightful run at +this time of year the rhododendrons will be out. I mean it. You +don't know how truly I mean it. Very probably--it won't affect +you at all. And--I think I may say I have the finest collection +of narwhal tusks in the world. All the best skins and horns have +to go through London, and L. Maxwell M'Leod, he knows where they +come from, and where they go to. That's his business." + +For the rest of the voyage up-channel Mr. M'Leod talked to me of +the assembling, preparation, and sale of the rarer furs; and told +me things about the manufacture of fur-lined coats which quite +shocked me. Somehow or other, when we landed on Wednesday, I +found myself pledged to spend that week-end with him at +Holmescroft. + +On Saturday he met me with a well-groomed motor, and ran me out, +in an hour and a half, to an exclusive residential district of +dustless roads and elegantly designed country villas, each +standing in from three to five acres of perfectly appointed land. +He told me land was selling at eight hundred pounds the acre, and +the new golf links, whose Queen Anne pavilion we passed, had cost +nearly twenty-four thousand pounds to create. + +Holmescroft was a large, two-storied, low, creeper-covered +residence. A verandah at the south side gave on to a garden and +two tennis courts, separated by a tasteful iron fence from a most +park-like meadow of five or six acres, where two Jersey cows +grazed. Tea was ready in the shade of a promising copper beech, +and I could see groups on the lawn of young men and maidens +appropriately clothed, playing lawn tennis in the sunshine. + +"A pretty scene, ain't it?" said Mr. M'Leod. "My good lady's +sitting under the tree, and that's my little girl in pink on the +far court. But I'll take you to your room, and you can see 'em +all later." + +He led me through a wide parquet-floored hall furnished in pale +lemon, with huge Cloisonnee vases, an ebonized and gold grand +piano, and banks of pot flowers in Benares brass bowls, up a pale +oak staircase to a spacious landing, where there was a green +velvet settee trimmed with silver. The blinds were down, and the +light lay in parallel lines on the floors. + +He showed me my room, saying cheerfully: "You may be a little +tired. One often is without knowing it after a run through +traffic. Don't come down till you feel quite restored. We shall +all be in the garden." + +My room was rather warm, and smelt of perfumed soap. I threw up +the window at once, but it opened so close to the floor and +worked so clumsily that I came within an ace of pitching out, +where I should certainly have ruined a rather lop-sided laburnum +below. As I set about washing off the journey's dust, I began to +feel a little tired. But, I reflected, I had not come down here +in this weather and among these new surroundings to be depressed; +so I began to whistle. + +And it was just then that I was aware of a little grey shadow, as +it might have been a snowflake seen against the light, floating +at an immense distance in the background of my brain. It annoyed +me, and I shook my head to get rid of it. Then my brain +telegraphed that it was the forerunner of a swift-striding gloom +which there was yet time to escape if I would force my thoughts +away from it, as a man leaping for life forces his body forward +and away from the fall of a wall. But the gloom overtook me +before I could take in the meaning of the message. I moved toward +the bed, every nerve already aching with the foreknowledge of the +pain that was to be dealt it, and sat down, while my amazed and +angry soul dropped, gulf by gulf, into that horror of great +darkness which is spoken of in the Bible, and which, as +auctioneers say, must be experienced to be appreciated. + +Despair upon despair, misery upon misery, fear after fear, each +causing their distinct and separate woe, packed in upon me for an +unrecorded length of time, until at last they blurred together, +and I heard a click in my brain like the click in the ear when +one descends in a diving bell, and I knew that the pressures were +equalised within and without, and that, for the moment, the worst +was at an end. But I knew also that at any moment the darkness +might come down anew; and while, I dwelt on this speculation +precisely as a man torments a raging tooth with his tongue, it +ebbed away into the little grey shadow on the brain of its first +coming, and once more I heard my brain, which knew what would +recur, telegraph to every quarter fox help, release or diversion. + +The door opened, and M'Leod reappeared. I thanked him politely, +saying I was charmed with my room, anxious to meet Mrs. M'Leod, +much refreshed with my wash, and so on and so forth. Beyond a +little stickiness at the corners of my mouth, it seemed to me +that I was managing my words admirably; the while that I myself +cowered at the bottom of unclimbable pits. M'Leod laid his hand +on my shoulder, and said "You've got it now already, ain't it?" + +"Yes," I answered. "It's making me sick!" + +"It will pass off when you come outside. I give you my word it +will then pass off. Come!" + +I shambled out behind him, and wiped my forehead in the hall. + +"You musn't mind," he said. "I expect the run tired you. My good +lady is sitting there under the copper beech." + +She was a fat woman in an apricot-coloured gown, with a heavily +powdered face, against which her black long-lashed eyes showed +like currants in dough. I was introduced to many fine ladies and +gentlemen of those parts. Magnificently appointed landaus and +covered motors swept in and out of the drive, and the air was gay +with the merry outcries of the tennis players. + +As twilight drew on they all went away, and I was left alone with +Mr. and Mrs. M'Leod, while tall menservants and maidservants took +away the tennis and tea things. Miss M'Leod had walked a little +down the drive with a light-haired young man, who apparently knew +everything about every South American railway stock. He had told +me at tea that these were the days of financial specialisation. + +"I think it went off beautifully, my dear," said Mr. M'Leod to +his wife; and to me: "You feel all right now, ain't it? Of course +you do." + +Mrs. M'Leod surged across the gravel. Her husband skipped nimbly +before her into the south verandah, turned a switch, and all +Holmescroft was flooded with light. + +"You can do that from your room also," he said as they went in. +"There is something in money, ain't it?" + +Miss M'Leod came up behind me in the dusk. "We have not yet been +introduced," she said, "but I suppose you are staying the night?" + +"Your father was kind enough to ask me," I replied. + +She nodded. "Yes, I know; and you know too, don't you? I saw your +face when you came to shake hands with mamma. You felt the +depression very soon. It is simply frightful in that bedroom +sometimes. What do you think it is--bewitchment? In Greece, where +I was a little girl, it might have been; but not in England, do +you think? Or do you?" + +"Cheer up, Thea. It will all come right," he insisted. + +"No, papa." She shook her dark head. "Nothing is right while it +comes." + +"It is nothing that we ourselves have ever done in our lives that +I will swear to you," said Mrs. M'Leod suddenly. "And we have +changed our servants several times. So we know it is not them." + +"Never mind. Let us enjoy ourselves while we can," said Mr. +M'Leod, opening the champagne. + +But we did not enjoy ourselves. The talk failed. There were long +silences. + +"I beg your pardon," I said, for I thought some one at my elbow +was about to speak. + +"Ah! That is the other thing!" said Miss M'Leod. Her mother +groaned. + +We were silent again, and, in a few seconds it must have been, a +live grief beyond words--not ghostly dread or horror, but aching, +helpless grief--overwhelmed us, each, I felt, according to his or +her nature, and held steady like the beam of a burning glass. +Behind that pain I was conscious there was a desire on somebody's +part to explain something on which some tremendously important +issue hung. + +Meantime I rolled bread pills and remembered my sins; M'Leod +considered his own reflection in a spoon; his wife seemed to be +praying, and the girl fidgetted desperately with hands and feet, +till the darkness passed on--as though the malignant rays of a +burning-glass had been shifted from us." + +"There," said Miss M'Leod, half rising. "Now you see what makes a +happy home. Oh, sell it--sell it, father mine, and let us go +away!" + +"But I've spent thousands on it. You shall go to Harrogate next +week, Thea dear." + +"I'm only just back from hotels. I am so tired of packing." + +"Cheer up, Thea. It is over. You know it does not often come here +twice in the same night. I think we shall dare now to be +comfortable." + +He lifted a dish-cover, and helped his wife and daughter. His +face was lined and fallen like an old man's after debauch, but +his hand did not shake, and his voice was clear. As he worked to +restore us by speech and action, he reminded me of a grey-muzzled +collie herding demoralised sheep. + +After dinner we sat round the dining-room fire the drawing-room +might have been under the Shadow for aught we knew talking with +the intimacy of gipsies by the wayside, or of wounded comparing +notes after a skirmish. By eleven o'clock the three between them +had given me every name and detail they could recall that in any +way bore on the house, and what they knew of its history. + +We went to bed in a fortifying blaze of electric light. My one +fear was that the blasting gust of depression would return--the +surest way, of course, to bring it. I lay awake till dawn, +breathing quickly and sweating lightly, beneath what De Quincey +inadequately describes as "the oppression of inexpiable guilt." +Now as soon as the lovely day was broken, I fell into the most +terrible of all dreams--that joyous one in which all past evil +has not only been wiped out of our lives, but has never been +committed; and in the very bliss of our assured innocence, before +our loves shriek and change countenance, we wake to the day we +have earned. + +It was a coolish morning, but we preferred to breakfast in the +south verandah. The forenoon we spent in the garden, pretending +to play games that come out of boxes, such as croquet and clock +golf. But most of the time we drew together and talked. The young +man who knew all about South American railways took Miss M'Leod +for a walk in the afternoon, and at five M'Leod thoughtfully +whirled us all up to dine in town. + +"Now, don't say you will tell the Psychological Society, and that +you will come again," said Miss M'Leod, as we parted. "Because I +know you will not." + +"You should not say that," said her mother. "You should say, +'Goodbye, Mr. Perseus. Come again.'" + +"Not him!" the girl cried. "He has seen the Medusa's head!" + +Looking at myself in the restaurant's mirrors, it seemed to me +that I had not much benefited by my week-end. Next morning I +wrote out all my Holmescroft notes at fullest length, in the hope +that by so doing I could put it all behind me. But the experience +worked on my mind, as they say certain imperfectly understood +rays work on the body. + +I am less calculated to make a Sherlock Holmes than any man I +know, for I lack both method and patience, yet the idea of +following up the trouble to its source fascinated me. I had no +theory to go on, except a vague idea that I had come between two +poles of a discharge, and had taken a shock meant for some one +else. This was followed by a feeling of intense irritation. I +waited cautiously on myself, expecting to be overtaken by horror +of the supernatural, but my self persisted in being humanly +indignant, exactly as though it had been the victim of a +practical joke. It was in great pains and upheavals--that I felt +in every fibre but its dominant idea, to put it coarsely, was to +get back a bit of its own. By this I knew that I might go forward +if I could find the way. + +After a few days it occurred to me to go to the office of Mr. +J.M.M. Baxter--the solicitor who had sold Holmescroft to M'Leod. +I explained I had some notion of buying the place. Would he act +for me in the matter ? + +Mr. Baxter, a large, greyish, throaty-voiced man, showed no +enthusiasm. "I sold it to Mr. M'Leod," he said. "It 'ud scarcely +do for me to start on the running-down tack now. But I can +recommend--" + +"I know he's asking an awful price," I interrupted, "and atop of +it he wants an extra thousand for what he calls your clean bill +of health." + +Mr. Baxter sat up in his chair. I had all his attention. + +"Your guarantee with the house. Don't you remember it?" + +"Yes, yes. That no death had taken place in the house since it +was built: I remember perfectly." + +He did not gulp as untrained men do when they lie, but his jaws +moved stickily, and his eyes, turning towards the deed boxes on +the wall, dulled. I counted seconds, one, two, three--one, two, +three up to ten. A man, I knew, can live through ages of mental +depression in that time. + +"I remember perfectly." His mouth opened a little as though it +had tasted old bitterness. + +"Of course that sort of thing doesn't appeal to me." I went on. +"I don't expect to buy a house free from death." + +"Certainly not. No one does. But it was Mr. M'Leod's fancy--his +wife's rather, I believe; and since we could meet it--it was my +duty to my clients at whatever cost to my own feelings--to make +him pay." + +"That's really why I came to you. I understood from him you knew +the place well." + +"Oh, yes. Always did. It originally belonged to some connections +of mine." + +"The Misses Moultrie, I suppose. How interesting! They must have +loved the place before the country round about was built up." + +"They were very fond of it indeed." + +"I don't wonder. So restful and sunny. I don't see how they could +have brought themselves to part with it." + +Now it is one of the most constant peculiarities of the English +that in polite conversation--and I had striven to be polite--no +one ever does or sells anything for mere money's sake. + +"Miss Agnes--the youngest--fell ill" (he spaced his words a +little), "and, as they were very much attached to each other, +that broke up the home." + +"Naturally. I fancied it must have been something of that kind. +One doesn't associate the Staffordshire Moultries" (my Demon of +Irresponsibility at that instant created 'em), "with--with being +hard up." + +"I don't know whether we're related to them," he answered +importantly. "We may be, for our branch of the family comes from +the Midlands." + +I give this talk at length, because I am so proud of my first +attempt at detective work. When I left him, twenty minutes later, +with instructions to move against the owner of Holmescroft, with +a view to purchase, I was more bewildered than any Doctor Watson +at the opening of a story. + +Why should a middle-aged solicitor turn plovers' egg colour and +drop his jaw when reminded of so innocent and festal a matter as +that no death had ever occurred in a house that he had sold? If I +knew my English vocabulary at all, the tone in which he said the +youngest sister "fell ill" meant that she had gone out of her +mind. That might explain his change of countenance, and it was +just possible that her demented influence still hung about +Holmescroft; but the rest was beyond me. + +I was relieved when I reached M'Leod's City office, and could +tell him what I had done--not what I thought. + +M'Leod was quite willing to enter into the game of the pretended +purchase, but did not see how it would help if I knew Baxter. + +"He's the only living soul I can get at who was connected with +Holmescroft," I said. + +"Ah! Living soul is good," said M'Leod. "At any rate our little +girl will be pleased that you are still interested in us. Won't +you come down some day this week?" + +"How is it there now?" I asked. + +He screwed up his face. "Simply frightful!" he said. "Thea is at +Droitwich." + +"I should like it immensely, but I must cultivate Baxter for the +present. You'll be sure and keep him busy your end, won't you?" + +He looked at me with quiet contempt. "Do not be afraid. I shall +be a good Jew. I shall be my own solicitor." + +Before a fortnight was over, Baxter admitted ruefully that M'Leod +was better than most firms in the business: We buyers were coy, +argumentative, shocked at the price of Holmescroft, inquisitive, +and cold by turns, but Mr. M'Leod the seller easily met and +surpassed us; and Mr. Baxter entered every letter, telegram, and +consultation at the proper rates in a cinematograph-film of a +bill. At the end of a month he said it looked as though M'Leod, +thanks to him, were really going to listen to reason. I was many +pounds out of pocket, but I had learned something of Mr. Baxter +on the human side. I deserved it. Never in my life have I worked +to conciliate, amuse, and flatter a human being as I worked over +my solicitor. + +It appeared that he golfed. Therefore, I was an enthusiastic +beginner, anxious to learn. Twice I invaded his office with a bag +(M'Leod lent it) full of the spelicans needed in this detestable +game, and a vocabulary to match. The third time the ice broke, +and Mr. Baxter took me to his links, quite ten miles off, where +in a maze of tramway lines, railroads, and nursery-maids, we +skelped our divotted way round nine holes like barges plunging +through head seas. He played vilely and had never expected to +meet any one worse; but as he realised my form, I think he began +to like me, for he took me in hand by the two hours together. +After a fortnight he could give me no more than a stroke a hole, +and when, with this allowance, I once managed to beat him by one, +he was honestly glad, and assured me that I should be a golfer if +I stuck to it. I was sticking to it for my own ends, but now and +again my conscience pricked me; for the man was a nice man. +Between games he supplied me with odd pieces of evidence, such as +that he had known the Moultries all his life, being their cousin, +and that Miss Mary, the eldest, was an unforgiving woman who +would never let bygones be. I naturally wondered what she might +have against him; and somehow connected him unfavourably with mad +Agnes. + +"People ought to forgive and forget," he volunteered one day +between rounds. "Specially where, in the nature of things, they +can't be sure of their deductions. Don't you think so?" + +"It all depends on the nature of the evidence on which one forms +one's judgment," I answered. + +"Nonsense!" he cried. "I'm lawyer enough to know that there's +nothing in the world so misleading as circumstantial evidence. +Never was." + +"Why? Have you ever seen men hanged on it?" + +"Hanged? People have been supposed to be eternally lost on it," +his face turned grey again. "I don't know how it is with you, but +my consolation is that God must know. He must! Things that seem +on the face of 'em like murder, or say suicide, may appear +different to God. Heh?" + +"That's what the murderer and the suicide can always hope--I +suppose." + +"I have expressed myself clumsily as usual. The facts as God +knows 'em--may be different--even after the most clinching +evidence. I've always said that--both as a lawyer and a man, but +some people won't--I don't want to judge 'em--we'll say they +can't--believe it; whereas I say there's always a working +chance--a certainty--that the worst hasn't happened." He stopped +and cleared his throat. "Now, let's come on! This time next week +I shall be taking my holiday." + +"What links?" I asked carelessly, while twins in a perambulator +got out of our line of fire. + +"A potty little nine-hole affair at a hydro in the Midlands. My +cousins stay there. Always will. Not but what the fourth and the +seventh holes take some doing. You could manage it, though," he +said encouragingly. "You're doing much better. It's only your +approach shots that are weak." + +"You're right. I can't approach for nuts! I shall go to pieces +while you're away--with no one to coach me," I said mournfully. + +"I haven't taught you anything," he said, delighted with the +compliment. + +"I owe all I've learned to you, anyhow. When will you come back?" + +"Look here," he began. "I don't know, your engagements, but I've +no one to play with at Burry Mills. Never have. Why couldn't you +take a few days off and join me there? I warn you it will be +rather dull. It's a throat and gout place-baths, massage, +electricity, and so forth. But the fourth and the seventh holes +really take some doing." + +"I'm for the game," I answered valiantly; Heaven well knowing +that I hated every stroke and word of it. + +"That's the proper spirit. As their lawyer I must ask you not to +say anything to my cousins about Holmescroft. It upsets 'em. +Always did. But speaking as man to man, it would be very pleasant +for me if you could see your way to--" + +I saw it as soon as decency permitted, and thanked him sincerely. +According to my now well-developed theory he had certainly +misappropriated his aged cousins' monies under power of attorney, +and had probably driven poor Agnes Moultrie out of her wits, but +I wished that he was not so gentle, and good-tempered, and +innocent eyed. + +Before I joined him at Burry Mills Hydro, I spent a night at +Holmescroft. Miss M'Leod had returned from her Hydro, and first +we made very merry on the open lawn in the sunshine over the +manners and customs of the English resorting to such places. She +knew dozens of hydros, and warned me how to behave in them, while +Mr. and Mrs. M'Leod stood aside and adored her. + +"Ah! That's the way she always comes back to us," he said. "Pity +it wears off so soon, ain't it? You ought to hear her sing 'With +mirth thou pretty bird.'" + +We had the house to face through the evening, and there we +neither laughed nor sung. The gloom fell on us as we entered, and +did not shift till ten o'clock, when we crawled out, as it were, +from beneath it. + +"It has been bad this summer," said Mrs. M'Leod in a whisper +after we realised that we were freed. "Sometimes I think the +house will get up and cry out--it is so bad." + +"How?" + +"Have you forgotten what comes after the depression ?" + +So then we waited about the small fire, and the dead air in the +room presently filled and pressed down upon us with the sensation +(but words are useless here) as though some dumb and bound power +were striving against gag and bond to deliver its soul of an +articulate word. It passed in a few minutes, and I fell to +thinking about Mr. Baxter's conscience and Agnes Moultrie, gone +mad in the well-lit bedroom that waited me. These reflections +secured me a night during which I rediscovered how, from purely +mental causes, a man can be physically sick; but the sickness was +bliss compared to my dreams when the birds waked. On my +departure, M'Leod gave me a beautiful narwhal's horn, much as a +nurse gives a child sweets for being brave at a dentist's. + +"There's no duplicate of it in the world," he said, "else it +would have come to old Max M'Leod;" and he tucked it into the +motor. Miss M'Leod on the far side of the car whispered, "Have +you found out anything, Mr. Perseus?" + +I shook my head. + +"Then I shall be chained to my rock all my life," she went on. +"Only don't tell papa." + +I supposed she was thinking of the young gentleman who +specialised in South American rails, for I noticed a ring on the +third finger of her left hand. + +I went straight from that house to Burry Mills Hydro, keen for +the first time in my life on playing golf, which is guaranteed to +occupy the mind. Baxter had taken me a room communicating with +his own, and after lunch introduced me to a tall, horse-headed +elderly lady of decided manners, whom a white-haired maid pushed +along in a bath-chair through the park-like grounds of the Hydro. +She was Miss Mary Moultrie, and she coughed and cleared her +throat just like Baxter. She suffered--she told me it was a +Moultrie castemark--from some obscure form of chronic bronchitis, +complicated with spasm of the glottis; and, in a dead, flat +voice, with a sunken eye that looked and saw not, told me what +washes, gargles, pastilles, and inhalations she had proved most +beneficial. From her I was passed on to her younger sister, Miss +Elizabeth, a small and withered thing with twitching lips, +victim, she told me, to very much the same sort of throat, but +secretly devoted to another set of medicines. When she went away +with Baxter and the bath-chair, I fell across a major of the +Indian army with gout in his glassy eyes, and a stomach which he +had taken all round the Continent. He laid everything before me; +and him I escaped only to be confided in by a matron with a +tendency to follicular tonsilitis and eczema. Baxter waited hand +and foot on his cousins till five o'clock, trying, as I saw, to +atone for his treatment of the dead sister. Miss Mary ordered him +about like a dog. + +"I warned you it would be dull," he said when we met in the +smoking-room. + +"It's tremendously interesting," I said. "But how about a look +round the links?" + +"Unluckily damp always affects my eldest cousin. I've got to buy +her a new bronchitis-kettle. Arthurs broke her old one +yesterday." + +We slipped out to the chemist's shop in the town, and he bought a +large glittering tin thing whose workings he explained. + +"I'm used to this sort of work. I come up here pretty often," he +said. "I've the family throat too." + +"You're a good man," I said. "A very good man." + +He turned towards me in the evening light among the beeches, and +his face was changed to what it might have been a generation +before. + +"You see," he said huskily, "there was the youngest--Agnes. +Before she fell ill, you know. But she didn't like leaving her +sisters. Never would." He hurried on with his odd-shaped load and +left me among the ruins of my black theories. The man with that +face had done Agnes Moultrie no wrong. + +We never played our game. I was waked between two and three in +the morning from my hygienic bed by Baxter in an ulster over +orange and white pyjamas, which I should never have suspected +from his character. + +"My cousin has had some sort of a seizure," he said. "Will you +come? I don't want to wake the doctor. Don't want to make a +scandal. Quick!" + +So I came quickly, and led by the white-haired Arthurs in a +jacket and petticoat, entered a double-bedded room reeking with +steam and Friar's Balsam. The electrics were all on. Miss Mary--I +knew her by her height--was at the open window, wrestling with +Miss Elizabeth, who gripped her round the knees. + +Miss Mary's hand was at her own throat, which was streaked with +blood. + +"She's done it. She's done it too!" Miss Elizabeth panted. "Hold +her! Help me!" + +"Oh, I say! Women don't cut their throats," Baxter whispered. + +"My God! Has she cut her throat?" the maid cried out, and with no +warning rolled over in a faint. Baxter pushed her under the +wash-basins, and leaped to hold the gaunt woman who crowed and +whistled as she struggled toward the window. He took her by the +shoulder, and she struck out wildly: + +"All right! She's only cut her hand," he said. "Wet towel quick!" + +While I got that he pushed her backward. Her strength seemed +almost as great as his. I swabbed at her throat when I could, and +found no mark; then helped him to control her a little. Miss +Elizabeth leaped back to bed, wailing like a child. + +"Tie up her hand somehow," said Baxter. "Don't let it drip about +the place. She"--he stepped on broken glass in his slippers, "she +must have smashed a pane." + +Miss Mary lurched towards the open window again, dropped on her +knees, her head on the sill, and lay quiet, surrendering the cut +hand to me. + +"What did she do?" Baxter turned towards Miss Elizabeth in the +far bed. + +"She was going to throw herself out of the window," was the +answer. "I stopped her, and sent Arthurs for you. Oh, we can +never hold up our heads again!" + +Miss Mary writhed and fought for breath. Baxter found a shawl +which he threw over her shoulders. + +"Nonsense!" said he. "That isn't like Mary;" but his face worked +when he said it. + +"You wouldn't believe about Aggie, John. Perhaps you will now!" +said Miss Elizabeth. "I saw her do it, and she's cut her throat +too!" + +"She hasn't," I said. "It's only her hand." + +Miss Mary suddenly broke from us with an indescribable grunt, +flew, rather than ran, to her sister's bed, and there shook her +as one furious schoolgirl would shake another. + +"No such thing," she croaked. "How dare you think so, you wicked +little fool?" + +"Get into bed, Mary," said Baxter. "You'll catch a chill." + +She obeyed, but sat up with the grey shawl round her lean +shoulders, glaring at her sister. "I'm better now," she panted. " +Arthurs let me sit out too long. Where's Arthurs? The kettle." + +"Never mind Arthurs," said Baxter. "You get the kettle." I +hastened to bring it from the side table. "Now, Mary, as God sees +you, tell me what you've done." + +His lips were dry, and he could not moisten. them with his +tongue. + +Miss Mary applied herself to the mouth of the kettle, and between +indraws of steam said: "The spasm came on just now, while I was +asleep. I was nearly choking to death. So I went to the window +I've done it often before, without, waking any one. Bessie's such +an old maid about draughts. I tell you I was choking to death. I +couldn't manage the catch, and I nearly fell out. That window +opens too low. I cut my hand trying to save myself. Who has tied +it up in this filthy handkerchief? I wish you had had my throat, +Bessie. I never was nearer dying!" She scowled on us all +impartially, while her sister sobbed. + +From the bottom of the bed we heard a quivering voice: "Is she +dead? Have they took her away? Oh, I never could bear the sight +o' blood!" + +"Arthurs," said Miss Mary, "you are an hireling. Go away!" + +It is my belief that Arthurs crawled out on all fours, but I was +busy picking up broken glass from the carpet. + +Then Baxter, seated by the side of the bed, began to +cross-examine in a voice I scarcely recognised. No one could for +an instant have doubted the genuine rage of Miss Mary against her +sister, her cousin, or her maid; and that a doctor should have +been called in for she did me the honour of calling me +doctor--was the last drop. She was choking with her throat; had +rushed to the window for air; had near pitched out, and in +catching at the window bars had cut her hand. Over and over she +made this clear to the intent Baxter. Then she turned on her +sister and tongue-lashed her savagely. + +"You mustn't blame me," Miss Bessie faltered at last. "You know +what we think of night and day.". + +"I'm coming to that," said Baxter. "Listen to me. What you did, +Mary, misled four people into thinking you--you meant to do away +with yourself." + +"Isn't one suicide in the family enough? Oh God, help and pity +us! You couldn't have believed that!" she cried. + +"The evidence was complete. Now, don't you think," Baxter's +finger wagged under her nose--"can't you think that poor Aggie +did the same thing at Holmescroft when she fell out of the +window?" + +"She had the same throat," said Miss Elizabeth. "Exactly the same +symptoms. Don't you remember, Mary?" + +"Which was her bedroom?" I asked of Baxter in an undertone. + +"Over the south verandah, looking on to the tennis lawn." + +"I nearly fell out of that very window when I was at +Holmescroft--opening it to get some air. The sill doesn't come +much above your knees," I said. + +"You hear that, Mary? Mary, do you hear What this gentleman says? +Won't you believe that what nearly happened to you must have +happened to poor Aggie that night? For God's sake--for her +sake--Mary, won't you believe?" + +There was a long silence while the steam kettle puffed. + +"If I could have proof--if I could have proof," said she, and +broke into most horrible tears. + +Baxter motioned to me, and I crept away to my room, and lay awake +till morning, thinking more specially of the dumb Thing at +Holmescroft which wished to explain itself. I hated Miss Mary as +perfectly as though I had known her for twenty years, but I felt +that, alive or dead, I should not like her to condemn me. + +Yet at mid-day, when I saw Miss Mary in her bathchair, Arthurs +behind and Baxter and Miss Elizabeth on either side, in the +park-like grounds of the Hydro, I found it difficult to arrange +my words. + +"Now that you know all about it," said Baxter aside, after the +first strangeness of our meeting was over, "it's only fair to +tell you that my poor cousin did not die in Holmescroft at all. +She was dead when they found her under the window in the morning. +Just dead." + +"Under that laburnum outside the window?" I asked, for I suddenly +remembered the crooked evil thing. + +"Exactly. She broke the tree in falling. But no death has ever +taken place in the house, so far as we were concerned. You can +make yourself quite easy on that point. Mr. M'Leod's extra +thousand for what you called the 'clean bill of health' was +something toward my cousins' estate when we sold. It was my duty +as their lawyer to get it for them--at any cost to my own +feelings." + +I know better than to argue when the English talk about their +duty. So I agreed with my solicitor. + +"Their sister's death must have been a great blow to your +cousins," I went on. The bath-chair was behind me. + +"Unspeakable," Baxter whispered. "They brooded on it day and +night. No wonder. If their theory of poor Aggie making away with +herself was correct, she was eternally lost!" + +"Do you believe that she made away with herself?" + +"No, thank God! Never have! And after what happened to Mary last +night, I see perfectly what happened to poor Aggie. She had the +family throat too. By the way, Mary thinks you are a doctor. +Otherwise she wouldn't like your having been in her room." + +"Very good. Is she convinced now about her sister's death?" + +"She'd give anything to be able to believe it, but she's a hard +woman, and brooding along certain lines makes one groovy. I have +sometimes been afraid of her reason--on the religious side, don't +you know. Elizabeth doesn't matter. Brain of a hen. Always had." + +Here Arthurs summoned me to the bath-chair, and the ravaged face, +beneath its knitted Shetland wool hood, of Miss Mary Moultrie. + +"I need not remind you, I hope, of the seal of secrecy--absolute +secrecy--in your profession," she began. "Thanks to my cousin's +and my sister's stupidity, you have found out " she blew her +nose. + +"Please don't excite her, sir," said Arthurs at the back. + +"But, my dear Miss Moultrie, I only know what I've seen, of +course, but it seems to me that what you thought was a tragedy in +your sister's case, turns out, on your own evidence, so to speak, +to have been an accident--a dreadfully sad one--but absolutely an +accident." + +"Do you believe that too?" she cried. "Or are you only saying it +to comfort me?" + +"I believe it from the bottom of my heart. Come down to +Holmescroft for an hour--for half an hour and satisfy yourself." + +"Of what? You don't understand. I see the house every day-every +night. I am always there in spirit--waking or sleeping. I +couldn't face it in reality." + +"But you must," I said. "If you go there in the spirit the +greater need for you to go there in the flesh. Go to your +sister's room once more, and see the window--I nearly fell out of +it myself. It's--it's awfully low and dangerous. That would +convince you," I pleaded. + +"Yet Aggie had slept in that room for years," she interrupted. + +"You've slept in your room here for a long time, haven't you? But +you nearly fell out of the window when you were choking." + +"That is true. That is one thing true," she nodded. "And I might +have been killed as--perhaps Aggie was killed." + +"In that case your own sister and cousin and maid would have said +you had committed suicide, Miss Moultrie. Come down to +Holmescroft, and go over the place just once." + +"You are lying," she said quite quietly. "You don't want me to +come down to see a window. It is something else. I warn you we +are Evangelicals. We don't believe in prayers for the dead. 'As +the tree falls--'" + +"Yes. I daresay. But you persist in thinking that your sister +committed suicide " + +"No! No! I have always prayed that I might have misjudged her." + +Arthurs at the bath-chair spoke up: "Oh, Miss Mary! you would +'ave it from the first that poor Miss Aggie 'ad made away with +herself; an', of course, Miss Bessie took the notion from you: +Only Master--Mister John stood out, -and--and I'd 'ave taken my +Bible oath you was making away with yourself last night." + +Miss Mary leaned towards me, one finger on my sleeve. + +"If going to Holmescroft kills me," she said, "you will have the +murder of a fellow-creature on your conscience for all eternity." + +"I'll risk it," I answered. Remembering what torment the mere +reflection of her torments had cast on Holmescroft, and +remembering, above all, the dumb Thing that filled the house with +its desire to speak, I felt that there might be worse things. + +Baxter was amazed at the proposed visit, but at a nod from that +terrible woman went off to make arrangements. Then I sent a +telegram to M'Leod bidding him and his vacate Holmescroft for +that afternoon. Miss Mary should be alone with her dead, as I had +been alone. + +I expected untold trouble in transporting her, but to do her +justice, the promise given for the journey, she underwent it +without murmur, spasm, or unnecessary word. Miss Bessie, pressed +in a corner by the window, wept behind her veil, and from time to +time tried to take hold of her sister's hand. Baxter wrapped +himself in his newly found happiness as selfishly as a +bridegroom, for he sat still and smiled. + +"So long as I know that Aggie didn't make away with herself," he +explained, "I tell you frankly I don't care what happened. She's +as hard as a rock--Mary. Always was. She won't die." + +We led her out on to the platform like a blind woman, and so got +her into the fly. The half-hour crawl to Holmescroft was the most +racking experience of the day. M'Leod had obeyed my instructions. +There was no one visible in the house or the gardens; and the +front door stood open. + +Miss Mary rose from beside her sister, stepped forth first, and +entered the hall. + +"Come, Bessie," she cried. + +"I daren't. Oh, I daren't." + +"Come!" Her voice had altered. I felt Baxter start. "There's +nothing to be afraid of." + +"Good heavens!" said Baxter. "She's running up the stairs. We'd +better follow." + +"Let's wait below. She's going to the room." + +We heard the door of the bedroom I knew open and shut, and we +waited in the lemon-coloured hall, heavy with the scent of +flowers. + +"I've never been into it since it was sold," Baxter sighed. "What +a lovely, restful plate it is! Poor Aggie used to arrange the +flowers." + +"Restful?" I began, but stopped of a sudden, for I felt all over +my bruised soul that Baxter was speaking truth. It was a light, +spacious, airy house, full of the sense of well-being and +peace--above all things, of peace. I ventured into the +dining-room where the thoughtful M'Leod's had left a small fire. +There was no terror there, present or lurking; and in the +drawing-room, which for good reasons we had never cared to enter, +the sun and the peace and the scent of the flowers worked +together as is fit in an inhabited house. When I returned to the +hall, Baxter was sweetly asleep on a couch, looking most unlike a +middle-aged solicitor who had spent a broken night with an +exacting cousin. + +There was ample time for me to review it all--to felicitate +myself upon my magnificent acumen (barring some errors about +Baxter as a thief and possibly a murderer), before the door above +opened, and Baxter, evidently a light sleeper, sprang awake. + +"I've had a heavenly little nap," he said, rubbing his eyes with +the backs of his hands like a child. "Good Lord! That's not their +step!" + +But it was. I had never before been privileged to see the Shadow +turned backward on the dial--the years ripped bodily off poor +human shoulders--old sunken eyes filled and alight--harsh lips +moistened and human. + +"John," Miss Mary called, " I know now. Aggie didn't do it!" and +"She didn't do it!" echoed Miss + +"I did not think it wrong to say a prayer," Miss Mary continued. +"Not for her soul, but for our peace. Then I was convinced." + +"Then we got conviction," the younger sister piped. + +"We've misjudged poor Aggie, John. But I feel she knows now. +Wherever she is, she knows that we know she is guiltless." + +"Yes, she knows. I felt it too," said Miss Elizabeth., + +"I never doubted," said John' Baxter, whose face was beautiful at +that hour. "Not from the first. Never have!" + +"You never offered me proof, John. Now, thank God, it will not be +the same any more. I can think henceforward of Aggie without +sorrow." She tripped, absolutely tripped, across the hall. "What +ideas these Jews have of arranging furniture!" She spied me +behind a big Cloisonnee vase. "I've seen the window," she said +remotely. "You took a great risk in advising me to undertake such +a journey. However, as it turns out ... I forgive you, and I pray +you may never know what mental anguish means! Bessie! Look at +this peculiar piano! Do you suppose, Doctor, these people would +offer one tea? I miss mine." + +"I will go and see," I said, and explored M'Leod's new-built +servants' wing. It was in the servants' hall that I unearthed the +M'Leod family, bursting with anxiety. + +"Tea for three, quick," I said. "If you ask me any questions now, +I shall have a fit!" So Mrs. M'Leod got it, and I was butler, +amid murmured apologies from Baxter, still smiling and +self-absorbed, and the cold disapproval of Miss Mary, who thought +the pattern of the china vulgar. However, she ate well, and even +asked me whether I would not like a cup of tea for myself. + +They went away in the twilight--the twilight that I had once +feared. They were going to an hotel in London to rest after the +fatigues of the day, and as their fly turned down the drive, I +capered on the door step, with the all-darkened house behind me. + +Then I heard the uncertain feet of the M'Leods and bade them not +to turn on the lights, but to feel--to feel what I had done; for +the Shadow was gone, with the dumb desire in the air. They drew +short, but afterwards deeper, breaths, like bathers entering +chill water, separated one from the other, moved about the hall, +tiptoed upstairs, raced down, and then Miss M'Leod, and I believe +her mother, though she denies this, embraced me. I know M'Leod +did. + +It was a disgraceful evening. To say we rioted through the house +is to put it mildly. We played a sort of Blind Man's Buff along +the darkest passages, in the unlighted drawing-room, and little +dining-room, calling cheerily to each other after each +exploration that here, and here, and here, the trouble-had +removed itself. We came up to the bedroom--mine for the night +again--and sat, the women on the bed, and we men on chairs, +drinking in blessed draughts of peace and comfort and cleanliness +of soul, while I told them my tale in full, and received fresh +praise, thanks, and blessings. + +When the servants, returned from their day's outing, gave us a +supper of cold fried fish, M'Leod had sense enough to open no +wine. We had been practically drunk since nightfall, and grew +incoherent on water and milk. + +"I like that Baxter," said M'Leod. "He's a sharp man. The death +wasn't in the house, but he ran it pretty close, ain't it?" + +"And the joke of it is that he supposes I want to buy the place +from you," I said. "Are you selling?" + +"Not for twice what I paid for it--now," said M'Leod. "I'll keep +you in furs all your life, but not our Holmescroft." + +"No--never our Holmescroft," said Miss M'Leod. "We'll ask him +here on Tuesday, mamma." They squeezed each other's hands. + +"Now tell me," said Mrs. M'Leod--"that tall one, I saw out of the +scullery window--did she tell you she was always here in the +spirit? I hate her. She made all this trouble. It was not her +house after she had sold it. What do you think?" + +"I suppose," I answered, "she brooded over what she believed was +her sister's suicide night and day--she confessed she did--and +her thoughts being concentrated on this place, they felt like +a--like a burning glass." + +"Burning glass is good," said M'Leod. + +"I said it was like a light of blackness turned on us," cried the +girl, twiddling her ring. "That must have been when the tall one +thought worst about her sister and the house." + +"Ah, the poor Aggie!" said Mrs. M'Leod. "The poor Aggie, trying +to tell every one it was not so! No wonder we felt Something +wished to say Something. Thea, Max, do you remember that night " + +"We need not remember any more," M'Leod interrupted. "It is not +our trouble. They have told each other now." + +"Do you think, then," said Miss M'Leod, "that those two, the +living ones, were actually told something--upstairs--in your in +the room?" + +"I can't say. At any rate they were made happy, and they ate a +big tea afterwards. As your father says, it is not our trouble +any longer--thank God!" + +"Amen!" said M'Leod. "Now, Thea, let us have some music after all +these months. 'With mirth, thou pretty bird,' ain't it? You ought +to hear that." + +And in the half-lighted hall, Thea sang an old English song that +I had never heard before. + + With mirth, thou pretty bird, rejoice + Thy Maker's praise enhanced; + Lift up thy shrill and pleasant voice, + Thy God is high advanced! + Thy food before He did provide, + And gives it in a fitting side, + Wherewith be thou sufficed! + Why shouldst thou now unpleasant be, + Thy wrath against God venting, + That He a little bird made thee, + Thy silly head tormenting, + Because He made thee not a man? + Oh, Peace! He hath well thought thereon, + Therewith be thou sufficed! + + + + THE RABBI'S SONG + + IF THOUGHT can reach to Heaven, + On Heaven let it dwell, + For fear that Thought be given + Like power to reach to Hell. + For fear the desolation + And darkness of thy mind, + Perplex an habitation + Which thou hast left behind. + + Let nothing linger after-- + No whispering ghost remain, + In wall, or beam, or rafter, + Of any hate or pain: + Cleanse and call home thy spirit, + Deny her leave to cast, + On aught thy heirs inherit, + The shadow of her past. + + For think, in all thy sadness, + What road our griefs may take; + Whose brain reflect our madness, + Or whom our terrors shake. + For think, lest any languish + By cause of thy distress + The arrows of our anguish + Fly farther than we guess. + + Our lives, our tears, as water, + Are spilled upon the ground; + God giveth no man quarter, + Yet God a means hath found; + Though faith and hope have vanished, + And even love grows dim; + A means whereby His banished + Be not expelled from Him! + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of Actions and Reactions by +Rudyard Kipling. +
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