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+The Project Gutenberg EBook Cumner & South Sea Folk, by G. Parker, Entire
+#28 in our series by Gilbert Parker
+ 
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+Title: Cumner & South Sea Folk, Complete
+
+Author: Gilbert Parker
+
+
+Release Date: August, 2004  [Etext #6201]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on September 19, 2002]
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+Edition: 10
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+Language: English
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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CUMNER & SOUTH SEA FOLK, ENTIRE ***
+
+
+
+
+This eBook was produced by David Widger [widger@cecomet.net]
+
+
+
+
+
+CUMNER'S SON AND OTHER SOUTH SEA FOLK, Complete
+
+by Gilbert Parker
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+Volume 1.
+CUMNER'S SON
+
+Volume 2.
+THE HIGH COURT OF BUDGERY-GAR
+AN EPIC IN YELLOW
+DIBBS, R.N.
+A LITTLE MASQUERADE
+DERELICT
+OLD ROSES
+MY WIFE'S LOVERS
+THE STRANGERS' HUT
+
+Volume 3.
+THE PLANTER'S WIFE
+BARBARA GOLDING
+THE LONE CORVETTE
+
+Volume 4.
+A SABLE SPARTAN
+A VULGAR FRACTION
+HOW PANGO WANGO WAS ANNEXED
+AN AMIABLE REVENGE
+THE BLIND BEGGAR AND THE LITTLE RED PEG
+A FRIEND OF THE COMMUNE
+
+Volume 5.
+A PAGAN OF THE SOUTH
+
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+In a Foreword to Donovan Pasha, published in 1902, I used the following
+words:
+
+"It is now twelve years since I began giving to the public tales of life
+in lands well known to me.  The first of them were drawn from Australia
+and the islands of the southern Pacific, where I had lived and roamed in
+the middle and late eighties.  .  .  .  Those tales of the Far South were
+given out with some prodigality.  They did not appear in book form,
+however; for at the time I was sending out these antipodean sketches I
+was also writing--far from the scenes where they were laid--a series of
+Canadian tales, many of which appeared in the 'Independent' of New York,
+in the 'National Observer', edited by Mr. Henley, and in the 'Illustrated
+London News'.  On the suggestion of my friend Mr. Henley, the Canadian
+tales, Pierre and His People, were published first; with the result that
+the stories of the southern hemisphere were withheld from publication,
+though they have been privately printed and duly copyrighted.  Some day I
+may send them forth, but meanwhile I am content to keep them in my care."
+
+These stories made the collection published eventually under the title of
+Cumner's Son, in 1910.  They were thus kept for nearly twenty years
+without being given to the public in book form.  In 1910 I decided,
+however, that they should go out and find their place with my readers.
+The first story in the book, Cumner's Son, which represents about four
+times the length of an ordinary short story, was published in Harper's
+Weekly, midway between 1890 and 1900.  All the earlier stories belonged
+to 1890, 1891, 1892, and 1893.  The first of these to be published was
+'A Sable Spartan', 'An Amiable Revenge', 'A Vulgar Fraction', and 'How
+Pango Wango Was Annexed'.  They were written before the Pierre series,
+and were instantly accepted by Mr. Frederick Greenwood, that great
+journalistic figure of whom the British public still takes note, and for
+whom it has an admiring memory, because of his rare gifts as an editor
+and publicist, and by a political section of the public, because Mr.
+Greenwood recommended to Disraeli the purchase of the Suez Canal shares.
+Seventeen years after publishing these stories I had occasion to write to
+Frederick Greenwood, and in my letter I said: "I can never forget that
+you gave me a leg up in my first struggle for recognition in the literary
+world."  His reply was characteristic; it was in keeping with the modest,
+magnanimous nature of the man.  He said: "I cannot remember that there
+was any day when you required a leg up."
+
+While still contributing to the 'Anti-Jacobin', which had a short life
+and not a very merry one, I turned my attention to a weekly called 'The
+Speaker', to which I have referred elsewhere, edited by Mr. Wemyss Reid,
+afterwards Sir Wemyss Reid, and in which Mr. Quiller-Couch was then
+writing a striking short story nearly every week.  Up to that time I had
+only interviewed two editors.  One was Mr. Kinloch-Cooke, now Sir Clement
+Kinloch-Cooke, who at that time was editor of the 'English Illustrated
+Magazine', and a very good, courteous, and generous editor he was, and he
+had a very good magazine; the other was an editor whose name I do not
+care to mention, because his courtesy was not on the same expansive level
+as his vanity.
+
+One bitter winter's day in 1891 I went to Wemyss Reid to tell him,
+if he would hear me, that I had in my mind a series of short stories of
+Australia and the South Seas, and to ask him if he could give them a
+place in 'The Speaker'.  It was a Friday afternoon, and as I went into
+the smudgy little office I saw a gentleman with a small brown bag
+emerging from another room.
+
+At that moment I asked for Mr. Wemyss Reid.  The gentleman with the
+little brown bag stood and looked sharply at me, but with friendly if
+penetrating eyes.  "I am Wemyss Reid--you wish to see me?" he said.
+"Will you give me five minutes?" I asked.  "I am just going to the
+train, but I will spare you a minute," he replied.  He turned back into
+another smudgy little room, put his bag on the table, and said: "Well?"
+I told him quickly, eagerly, what I wished to do, and I said to him at
+last: "I apologise for seeking you personally, but I was most anxious
+that my work should be read by your own eyes, because I think I should be
+contented with your judgment, whether it was favourable or unfavourable."
+Taking up his bag again, he replied, "Send your stories along.  If I
+think they are what I want I will publish them.  I will read them
+myself."  He turned the handle of the door, and then came back to me and
+again looked me in the eyes.  "If I cannot use them--and there might be
+a hundred reasons why I could not, and none of them derogatory to your
+work--" he said, "do not be discouraged.  There are many doors.  Mine is
+only one.  Knock at the others.  Good luck to you."
+
+I never saw Wemyss Reid again, but he made a friend who never forgot him,
+and who mourned his death.  It was not that he accepted my stories; it
+was that he said what he did say to a young man who did not yet know what
+his literary fortune might be.  Well, I sent him a short story called,
+'An Epic in Yellow'.  Proofs came by return of post.  This story was
+followed by 'The High Court of Budgery-Gar', 'Old Roses', 'My Wife's
+Lovers', 'Derelict', 'Dibbs, R.N.', 'A Little Masquerade', and 'The
+Stranger's Hut'.  Most, if not all, of these appeared before the Pierre
+stories were written.
+
+They did not strike the imagination of the public in the same way as the
+Pierre series, but they made many friends.  They were mostly Australian,
+and represented the life which for nearly four years I knew and studied
+with that affection which only the young, open-eyed enthusiast, who
+makes his first journey in the world, can give.  In the same year, for
+'Macmillan's Magazine', I wrote 'Barbara Golding' and 'A Pagan of the
+South', which was originally published as 'The Woman in the Morgue'.
+'A Friend of the Commune' was also published in the 'English Illustrated
+Magazine', and 'The Blind Beggar and the Little Red Peg' found a place in
+the 'National Observer' after W. E. Henley had ceased to be its editor,
+and Mr. J. C. Vincent, also since dead, had taken his place.  'The Lone
+Corvette' was published in 'The Westminster Gazette' as late as 1893.
+
+Of certain of these stories, particularly of the Australian group,
+I have no doubt.  They were lifted out of the life of that continent with
+sympathy and care, and most of the incidents were those which had come
+under my own observation.  I published them at last in book form, because
+I felt that no definitive edition of my books ought to appear--and I had
+then a definitive edition in my mind--without these stories which
+represented an early phase in my work.  Whatever their degree of merit,
+they possess freshness and individuality of outlook.  Others could no
+doubt have written them better, but none could have written them with
+quite the same touch or turn or individuality; and, after all, what we
+want in the art of fiction is not a story alone, not an incident of life
+or soul simply as an incident, but the incident as seen with the eye--
+and that eye as truthful and direct as possible--of one individual
+personality.  George Meredith and Robert Louis Stevenson might each have
+chosen the same subject and the same story, and each have produced a
+masterpiece, and yet the world of difference between the way it was
+presented by each was the world of difference between the eyes that saw.
+So I am content to let these stories speak little or much, but still to
+speak for me.
+
+
+
+
+CUMNER'S SON
+
+I
+
+THE CHOOSING OF THE MESSENGER
+
+There was trouble at Mandakan.  You could not have guessed it from
+anything the eye could see.  In front of the Residency two soldiers
+marched up and down sleepily, mechanically, between two ten-pounders
+marking the limit of their patrol; and an orderly stood at an open door,
+lazily shifting his eyes from the sentinels to the black guns, which gave
+out soft, quivering waves of heat, as a wheel, spinning, throws off
+delicate spray.  A hundred yards away the sea spread out, languid and
+huge.  It was under-tinged with all the colours of a morning sunrise over
+Mount Bobar not far beyond, lifting up its somnolent and massive head
+into the Eastern sky.  "League-long rollers" came in as steady as columns
+of infantry, with white streamers flying along the line, and hovering a
+moment, split, and ran on the shore in a crumbling foam, like myriads of
+white mice hurrying up the sand.
+
+A little cloud of tobacco smoke came curling out of a window of the
+Residency.  It was sniffed up by the orderly, whose pipe was in barracks,
+and must lie there untouched until evening at least; for he had stood at
+this door since seven that morning, waiting orders; and he knew by the
+look on Colonel Cumner's face that he might be there till to-morrow.
+
+But the ordinary spectator could not have noticed any difference in
+the general look of things.  All was quiet, too, in the big native city.
+At the doorways the worker in brass and silver hammered away at his
+metal, a sleepy, musical assonance.  The naked seller of sweetmeats went
+by calling his wares in a gentle, unassertive voice; in dark doorways
+worn-eyed women and men gossiped in voices scarce above a whisper; and
+brown children fondled each other, laughing noiselessly, or lay asleep on
+rugs which would be costly elsewhere.  In the bazaars nothing was
+selling, and no man did anything but mumble or eat, save the few scholars
+who, cross-legged on their mats, read and laboured towards Nirvana.
+Priests in their yellow robes and with bare shoulders went by, oblivious
+of all things.
+
+Yet, too, the keen observer could have seen gathered into shaded corners
+here and there, a few sombre, low-voiced men talking covertly to each
+other.  They were not the ordinary gossipers; in the faces of some were
+the marks of furtive design, of sinister suggestion.  But it was all so
+deadly still.
+
+The gayest, cheeriest person in Mandakan was Colonel Cumner's son.
+Down at the opal beach, under a palm-tree, he sat, telling stories of his
+pranks at college to Boonda Broke, the half-breed son of a former Dakoon
+who had ruled the State of Mandakan when first the English came.  The
+saddest person in Mandakan was the present Dakoon, in his palace by the
+Fountain of the Sweet Waters, which was guarded by four sacred warriors
+in stone and four brown men armed with the naked kris.
+
+The Dakoon was dying, though not a score of people in the city knew it.
+He had drunk of the Fountain of Sweet Waters, also of the well that is by
+Bakbar; he had eaten of the sweetmeat called the Flower of Bambaba, his
+chosen priests had prayed, and his favourite wife had lain all day and
+all night at the door of his room, pouring out her soul; but nothing came
+of it.
+
+And elsewhere Boonda Broke was showing Cumner's Son how to throw a kris
+towards one object and make it hit another.  He gave an illustration by
+aiming at a palm-tree and sticking a passing dog behind the shoulder.
+The dog belonged to Cumner's Son, and the lad's face suddenly blazed with
+anger.  He ran to the dog, which had silently collapsed like a punctured
+bag of silk, drew out the kris, then swung towards Boonda Broke, whose
+cool, placid eyes met his without emotion.
+
+"You knew that was my dog," he said quickly in English, "and--and I tell
+you what, sir, I've had enough of you.  A man that'd hit a dog like that
+would hit a man the same way."
+
+He was standing with the crimson kris in his hand above the dog.  His
+passion was frank, vigorous, and natural.
+
+Boonda Broke smiled passively.
+
+"You mean, could hit a man the same way, honoured lord."
+
+"I mean what I said," answered the lad, and he turned on his heel; but
+presently he faced about again, as though with a wish to give his foe the
+benefit of any doubt.  Though Boonda Broke was smiling, the lad's face
+flushed again with anger, for the man's real character had been revealed
+to him on the instant, and he was yet in the indignant warmth of the new
+experience.  If he had known that Boonda Broke had cultivated his
+friendship for months, to worm out of him all the secrets of the
+Residency, there might have been a violent and immediate conclusion to
+the incident, for the lad was fiery, and he had no fear in his heart; he
+was combative, high-tempered, and daring.  Boonda Broke had learned no
+secrets of him, had been met by an unconscious but steady resistance, and
+at length his patience had given way in spite of himself.  He had white
+blood in his veins--fighting Irish blood--which sometimes overcame his
+smooth, Oriental secretiveness and cautious duplicity; and this was one
+of those occasions.  He had flung the knife at the dog with a wish in his
+heart that it was Cumner's Son instead.  As he stood looking after the
+English lad, he said between his teeth with a great hatred, though his
+face showed no change:
+
+"English dog, thou shalt be dead like thy brother there when I am Dakoon
+of Mandakan."
+
+At this moment he saw hurrying towards him one of those natives who, a
+little while before, had been in close and furtive talk in the Bazaar.
+
+Meanwhile the little cloud of smoke kept curling out of the Governor's
+door, and the orderly could catch the fitful murmur of talk that followed
+it.  Presently rifle shots rang out somewhere.  Instantly a tall, broad-
+shouldered figure, in white undress uniform, appeared in the doorway and
+spoke quickly to the orderly.  In a moment two troopers were galloping
+out of the Residency Square and into the city.  Before two minutes had
+passed one had ridden back to the orderly, who reported to the Colonel
+that the Dakoon had commanded the shooting of five men of the tribe of
+the outlaw hill-chief, Pango Dooni, against the rear wall of the Palace,
+where the Dakoon might look from his window and see the deed.
+
+The Colonel sat up eagerly in his chair, then brought his knuckles down
+smartly on the table.  He looked sharply at the three men who sat with
+him.
+
+"That clinches it," said he.  "One of those fellows was Pango Dooni's
+nephew, another was his wife's brother.  It's the only thing to do--some
+one must go to Pango Dooni, tell him the truth, ask him to come down and
+save the place, and sit up there in the Dakoon's place.  He'll stand by
+us, and by England."
+
+No one answered at first.  Every face was gloomy.  At last a grey-haired
+captain of artillery spoke his mind in broken sentences:
+
+"Never do--have to ride through a half-dozen sneaking tribes--Pango
+Dooni, rank robber--steal like a barrack cat--besides, no man could get
+there.  Better stay where we are and fight it out till help comes."
+
+"Help!" said Cumner bitterly.  "We might wait six months before a man-
+of-war put in.  The danger is a matter of hours.  A hundred men, and a
+score of niggers--what would that be against thirty thousand natives?"
+
+"Pango Dooni is as likely to butcher us as the Dakoon," said McDermot,
+the captain of artillery.  Every man in the garrison had killed at least
+one of Pango Dooni's men, and every man of them was known from the Kimar
+Gate to the Neck of Baroob, where Pango Dooni lived and ruled.
+
+The Colonel was not to be moved.  "I'd ride the ninety miles myself, if
+my place weren't here--no, don't think I doubt you, for I know you all!
+But consider the nest of murderers that'll be let loose here when the
+Dakoon dies.  Better a strong robber with a strong robber's honour to
+perch there in the Palace, than Boonda Broke and his cut-throats--"
+
+"Honour--honour?--Pango Dooni!" broke out McDermot the gunner
+scornfully.
+
+"I know the man," said the Governor gruffly; "I know the man, I tell you,
+and I'd take his word for ten thousand pounds, or a thousand head of
+cattle.  Is there any of you will ride to the Neck of Baroob for me?
+For one it must be, and no more--we can spare scarce that, God knows!"
+he added sadly.  "The women and children--"
+
+"I will go," said a voice behind them all; and Cumner's Son stepped
+forward.  "I will go, if I may ride the big sorrel from the Dakoon's
+stud."
+
+The Colonel swung round in his chair and stared mutely at the lad.  He
+was only eighteen years old, but of good stature, well-knit, and straight
+as a sapling.
+
+Seeing that no one answered him, but sat and stared incredulously, he
+laughed a little, frankly and boyishly.  "The kris of Boonda Broke is
+for the hearts of every one of us," said he.  "He may throw it soon--
+to-night--to-morrow.  No man can leave here--all are needed; but a boy
+can ride; he is light in the saddle, and he may pass where a man would be
+caught in a rain of bullets.  I have ridden the sorrel of the Dakoon
+often; he has pressed it on me; I will go to the master of his stud, and
+I will ride to the Neck of Baroob."
+
+"No, no," said one after the other, getting to his feet, "I will go."
+
+The Governor waved them down.  "The lad is right," said he, and he looked
+him closely and proudly in the eyes.  "By the mercy of God, you shall
+ride the ride," said he.  "Once when Pango Dooni was in the city, in
+disguise, aye, even in the Garden of the Dakoon, the night of the Dance
+of the Yellow Fire, I myself helped him to escape, for I stand for a
+fearless robber before a cowardly saint."  His grey moustache and
+eyebrows bristled with energy as he added: "The lad shall go.  He shall
+carry in his breast the bracelet with the red stone that Pango Dooni gave
+me.  On the stone is written the countersign that all hillsmen heed, and
+the tribe-call I know also."
+
+"The danger--the danger--and the lad so young!" said McDermot; but yet
+his eyes rested lovingly on the boy.
+
+The Colonel threw up his head in anger.  "If I, his father, can let him
+go, why should you prate like women?  The lad is my son, and he shall win
+his spurs--and more, and more, maybe," he added.
+
+He took from his pocket Pango Dooni's gift and gave it to the lad, and
+three times he whispered in his ear the tribe-call and the countersign
+that he might know them.  The lad repeated them three times, and, with
+his finger, traced the countersign upon the stone.
+
+That night he rode silently out of the Dakoon's palace yard by a quiet
+gateway, and came, by a roundabout, to a point near the Residency.
+
+He halted under a flame-tree, and a man came out of the darkness and laid
+a hand upon his knee.
+
+"Ride straight and swift from the Kimar Gate.  Pause by the Koongat
+Bridge an hour, rest three hours at the Bar of Balmud, and pause again
+where the roof of the Brown Hermit drums to the sorrel's hoofs.  Ride for
+the sake of the women and children and for your own honour.  Ride like a
+Cumner, lad."
+
+The last sound of the sorrel's hoofs upon the red dust beat in the
+Colonel's ears all night long, as he sat waiting for news from the
+Palace, the sentinels walking up and down, the orderly at the door, and
+Boonda Broke plotting in the town.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+"REST AT THE KOONGAT BRIDGE AN HOUR"
+
+There was no moon, and but few stars were shining.  When Cumner's Son
+first set out from Mandakan he could scarcely see at all, and he kept his
+way through the native villages more by instinct than by sight.  As time
+passed he saw more clearly; he could make out the figures of natives
+lying under trees or rising from their mats to note the flying horseman.
+Lights flickered here and there in the houses and by the roadside.  A
+late traveller turned a cake in the ashes or stirred some rice in a
+calabash; an anxious mother put some sandalwood on the coals and added
+incense, that the gods might be good to the ailing child on the mat; and
+thrice, at forges in the village, he saw the smith languidly beating iron
+into shape, while dark figures sat on the floor near by, and smoked and
+murmured to each other.
+
+These last showed alertness at the sound of the flying sorrel's hoofs,
+and all at once a tall, keen-eyed horseman sprang to the broad doorway
+and strained his eyes into the night after Cumner's Son.  He waited a few
+moments; then, as if with a sudden thought, he ran to a horse tethered
+near by and vaulted into the saddle.  At a word his chestnut mare got
+away with telling stride in pursuit of the unknown rider, passing up the
+Gap of Mandakan like a ghost.
+
+Cumner's Son had a start by about half a mile, but Tang-a-Dahit rode a
+mare that had once belonged to Pango Dooni, and Pango Dooni had got her
+from Colonel Cumner the night he escaped from Mandakan.
+
+For this mare the hill-chief had returned no gift save the gold bracelet
+which Cumner's Son now carried in his belt.
+
+The mare leaned low on her bit, and travelled like a thirsty hound to
+water, the sorrel tugged at the snaffle, and went like a bullmoose
+hurrying to his herd,
+
+              "That long low gallop that can tire
+               The hounds' deep hate or hunter's fire."
+
+The pace was with the sorrel.  Cumner's Son had not looked behind after
+the first few miles, for then he had given up thought that he might be
+followed.  He sat in his saddle like a plainsman; he listened like a
+hillsman; he endured like an Arab water-carrier.  There was not an ounce
+of useless flesh on his body, and every limb, bone, and sinew had been
+stretched and hardened by riding with the Dakoon's horsemen, by
+travelling through the jungle for the tiger and the panther, by throwing
+the kris with Boonda Broke, fencing with McDermot, and by sabre practice
+with red-headed Sergeant Doolan in the barracks by the Residency Square.
+After twenty miles' ride he was dry as a bone, after thirty his skin was
+moist but not damp, and there was not a drop of sweat on the skin-leather
+of his fatigue cap.  When he got to Koongat Bridge he was like a racer
+after practice, ready for a fight from start to finish.  Yet he was not
+foolhardy.  He knew the danger that beset him, for he could not tell,
+in the crisis come to Mandakan, what designs might be abroad.  He now saw
+through Boonda Broke's friendship for him, and he only found peace for
+his mind upon the point by remembering that he had told no secrets, had
+given no information of any use to the foes of the Dakoon or the haters
+of the English.
+
+On this hot, long, silent ride he looked back carefully, but he could not
+see where he had been to blame; and, if he were, he hoped to strike a
+balance with his own conscience for having been friendly to Boonda Broke,
+and to justify himself in his father's eyes.  If he came through all
+right, then "the Governor"--as he called his father, with the friendly
+affection of a good comrade, and as all others in Mandakan called him
+because of his position--the Governor then would say that whatever harm
+he had done indirectly was now undone.
+
+He got down at the Koongat Bridge, and his fingers were still in the
+sorrel's mane when he heard the call of a bittern from the river bank.
+He did not loose his fingers, but stood still and listened intently, for
+there was scarcely a sound of the plain, the river, or jungle he did not
+know, and his ear was keen to balance 'twixt the false note and the true.
+He waited for the sound again.  From that first call he could not be sure
+which had startled him--the night was so still--the voice of a bird or
+the call between men lying in ambush.  He tried the trigger of his pistol
+softly, and prepared to mount.  As he did so, the call rang out across
+the water again, a little louder, a little longer.
+
+Now he was sure.  It was not from a bittern--it was a human voice,
+of whose tribe he knew not--Pango Dooni's, Boonda Broke's, the Dakoon's,
+or the segments of peoples belonging to none of these--highway robbers,
+cattle-stealers, or the men of the jungle, those creatures as wild and
+secret as the beasts of the bush and more cruel and more furtive.
+
+The fear of the ambushed thing is the worst fear of this world--the sword
+or the rifle-barrel you cannot see and the poisoned wooden spear which
+the men of the jungle throw gives a man ten deaths, instead of one.
+
+Cumner's Son mounted quickly, straining his eyes to see and keeping his
+pistol cocked.  When he heard the call a second time he had for a moment
+a thrill of fear, not in his body, but in his brain.  He had that fatal
+gift, imagination, which is more alive than flesh and bone, stronger than
+iron and steel.  In his mind he saw a hundred men rise up from ambush,
+surround him, and cut him down.  He saw himself firing a half-dozen
+shots, then drawing his sword and fighting till he fell; but he did fall
+in the end, and there was an end of it.  It seemed like years while these
+visions passed through his mind, but it was no longer than it took to
+gather the snaffle-rein close to the sorrel's neck, draw his sword,
+clinch it in his left hand with the rein, and gather the pistol snugly in
+his right.  He listened again.  As he touched the sorrel with his knee he
+thought he heard a sound ahead.
+
+The sorrel sprang forward, sniffed the air, and threw up his head.  His
+feet struck the resounding timbers of the bridge, and, as they did so, he
+shied; but Cumner's Son, looking down sharply, could see nothing to
+either the right or left--no movement anywhere save the dim trees on the
+banks waving in the light wind which had risen.  A crocodile slipped off
+a log into the water--he knew that sound; a rank odour came from the
+river bank--he knew the smell of the hippopotamus.
+
+These very things gave him new courage.  Since he came from Eton to
+Mandakan he had hunted often and well, and once he had helped to quarry
+the Little Men of the Jungle when they carried off the wife and daughter
+of a soldier of the Dakoon.  The smell and the sound of wild life roused
+all the hunter in him.  He had fear no longer; the primitive emotion of
+fighting or self-defence was alive in him.
+
+He had left the bridge behind by twice the horse's length, when, all at
+once, the call of the red bittern rang out the third time, louder than
+before; then again; and then the cry of a grey wolf came in response.
+
+His peril was upon him.  He put spurs to the sorrel.  As he did so, dark
+figures sprang up on all sides of him.  Without a word he drove the
+excited horse at his assailants.  Three caught his bridle-rein, and
+others snatched at him to draw him from his horse.
+
+"Hands off!" he cried, in the language of Mandakan, and levelled his
+pistol.
+
+"He is English!" said a voice.  "Cut him down!"
+
+"I am the Governor's son," said the lad.  "Let go."  "Cut him down!"
+snarled the voice again.
+
+He fired twice quickly.
+
+Then he remembered the tribe-call given his father by Pango Dooni.
+Rising in his saddle and firing again, he called it out in a loud voice.
+His plunging horse had broken away from two of the murderers; but one
+still held on, and he slashed the hand free with his sword.
+
+The natives were made furious by the call, and came on again, striking at
+him with their krises.  He shouted the tribe-call once more, but this
+time it was done involuntarily.  There was no response in front of him;
+but one came from behind.  There was clattering of hoofs on Koongat
+Bridge, and the password of the clan came back to the lad, even as a kris
+struck him in the leg and drew out again.  Once again he called, and
+suddenly a horseman appeared beside him, who clove through a native's
+head with a broadsword, and with a pistol fired at the fleeing figures;
+for Boonda Broke's men who were thus infesting the highway up to Koongat
+Bridge, and even beyond, up to the Bar of Balmud, hearing the newcomer
+shout the dreaded name of Pango Dooni, scattered for their lives, though
+they were yet twenty to two.  One stood his ground, and it would have
+gone ill for Cumner's Son, for this thief had him at fatal advantage, had
+it not been for the horseman who had followed the lad from the forge-fire
+to Koongat Bridge.  He stood up in his stirrups and cut down with his
+broadsword, so that the blade was driven through the head and shoulders
+of his foe as a woodsman splits a log half through, and grunts with the
+power of his stroke.
+
+Then he turned to the lad.
+
+"What stranger calls by the word of our tribe?" he asked.
+
+"I am Cumner's Son," was the answer, "and my father is brother-in-blood
+with Pango Dooni.  I ride to Pango Dooni for the women and children's
+sake."
+
+"Proof!  Proof!  If you be Cumner's Son, another word should be yours."
+
+The Colonel's Son took out the bracelet from his breast.  "It is safe hid
+here," said he, "and hid also under my tongue.  If you be from the Neck
+of Baroob you will know it when I speak it;" and he spoke reverently the
+sacred countersign.
+
+By a little fire kindled in the road, the bodies of their foe beside
+them, they vowed to each other, mingling their blood from dagger pricks
+in the arm.  Then they mounted again and rode towards the Neck of Baroob.
+
+In silence they rode awhile, and at last the hillsman said: "If fathers
+be brothers-in-blood, behold it is good that sons be also."
+
+By this the lad knew that he was now brother-in-blood to the son of Pango
+Dooni.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+THE CODE OF THE HILLS
+
+"You travel near to Mandakan!" said the lad.  "Do you ride with a
+thousand men?"
+
+"For a thousand men there are ten thousand eyes to see; I travel alone
+and safe," answered Tang-a-Dahit.
+
+"To thrust your head in the tiger's jaw," said Cumner's Son.  "Did you
+ride to be in at the death of the men of your clan?"
+
+"A man will ride for a face that he loves, even to the Dreadful Gates,"
+answered Tang-a-Dahit.  "But what is this of the men of my clan?"
+
+Then the lad told him of those whose heads hung on the rear Palace wall,
+where the Dakoon lay dying, and why he rode to Pango Dooni.
+
+"It is fighting and fighting, naught but fighting," said Tang-a-Dahit
+after a pause; "and there is no peace.  It is fighting and fighting, for
+honour, and glory, and houses and cattle, but naught for love, and naught
+that there may be peace."
+
+Cumner's Son turned round in his saddle as if to read the face of the
+man, but it was too dark.
+
+"And naught that there maybe peace."  Those were the words of a hillsman
+who had followed him furiously in the night ready to kill, who had cloven
+the head of a man like a piece of soap, and had been riding even into
+Mandakan where a price was set on his head.
+
+For long they rode silently, and in that time Cumner's Son found new
+thoughts; and these thoughts made him love the brown hillsman as he had
+never loved any save his own father.
+
+"When there is peace in Mandakan," said he at last, "when Boonda Broke is
+snapped in two like a pencil, when Pango Dooni sits as Dakoon in the
+Palace of Mandakan--"
+
+"There is a maid in Mandakan," interrupted Tanga-Dahit, "and these two
+years she has lain upon her bed, and she may not be moved, for the bones
+of her body are as the soft stems of the lily, but her face is a perfect
+face, and her tongue has the wisdom of God."
+
+"You ride to her through the teeth of danger?"
+
+"She may not come to me, and I must go to her," answered the hillsman.
+
+There was silence again for a long time, for Cumner's Son was turning
+things over in his mind; and all at once he felt that each man's acts
+must be judged by the blood that is in him and the trail by which he has
+come.
+
+The sorrel and the chestnut mare travelled together as on one snaffle-
+bar, step by step, for they were foaled in the same stable.  Through
+stretches of reed-beds and wastes of osiers they passed, and again by a
+path through the jungle where the briar-vines caught at them like eager
+fingers, and a tiger crossed their track, disturbed in his night's rest.
+At length out of the dank distance they saw the first colour of dawn.
+
+"Ten miles," said Tang-a-Dahit, "and we shall come to the Bar of Balmud.
+Then we shall be in my own country.  See, the dawn comes up!  'Twixt here
+and the Bar of Balmud our danger lies.  A hundred men may ambush there,
+for Boonda Broke's thieves have scattered all the way from Mandakan to
+our borders."
+
+Cumner's Son looked round.  There were hills and defiles everywhere, and
+a thousand places where foes could hide.  The quickest way, but the most
+perilous, lay through the long defile between the hills, flanked by
+boulders and rank scrub.  Tang-a-Dahit pointed out the ways that they
+might go--by the path to the left along the hills, or through the green
+defile; and Cumner's Son instantly chose the latter way.
+
+"If the fight were fair," said the hillsman, "and it were man to man, the
+defile is the better way; but these be dogs of cowards who strike from
+behind rocks.  No one of them has a heart truer than Boonda Broke's, the
+master of the carrion.  We will go by the hills.  The way is harder but
+more open, and if we be prospered we will rest awhile at the Bar of
+Balmud, and at noon we will tether and eat in the Neck of Baroob."
+
+They made their way through the medlar trees and scrub to the plateau
+above, and, the height gained, they turned to look back.  The sun was up,
+and trailing rose and amber garments across the great Eastern arch.
+Their path lay towards it, for Pango Dooni hid in the hills, where the
+sun hung a roof of gold above his stronghold.
+
+"Forty to one!" said Tang-a-Dahit suddenly.  "Now indeed we ride for our
+lives!"
+
+Looking down the track of the hillsman's glance Cumner's Son saw a bunch
+of horsemen galloping up the slope.  Boonda Broke's men!
+
+The sorrel and the mare were fagged, the horses of their foes were fresh;
+and forty to one were odds that no man would care to take.  It might be
+that some of Pango Dooni's men lay between them and the Bar of Balmud,
+but the chance was faint.
+
+"By the hand of Heaven," said the hillsman, "if we reach to the Bar of
+Balmud, these dogs shall eat their own heads for dinner!"
+
+They set their horses in the way, and gave the sorrel and mare the bit
+and spur.  The beasts leaned again to their work as though they had just
+come from a feeding-stall and knew their riders' needs.  The men rode
+light and free, and talked low to their horses as friend talks to friend.
+Five miles or more they went so, and then the mare stumbled.  She got to
+her feet again, but her head dropped low, her nostrils gaped red and
+swollen, and the sorrel hung back with her, for a beast, like a man, will
+travel farther two by two than one by one.  At another point where they
+had a long view behind they looked back.  Their pursuers were gaining.
+Tang-a-Dahit spurred his horse on.
+
+"There is one chance," said he, "and only one.  See where the point juts
+out beyond the great medlar tree.  If, by the mercy of God, we can but
+make it!"
+
+The horses gallantly replied to call and spur.  They rounded a curve
+which made a sort of apse to the side of the valley, and presently they
+were hid from their pursuers.  Looking back from the thicket they saw the
+plainsmen riding hard.  All at once Tang-a-Dahit stopped.
+
+"Give me the sorrel," said he.  "Quick--dismount!"  Cumner's Son did as
+he was bid.  Going a little to one side, the hillsman pushed through a
+thick hedge of bushes, rolled away a rock, and disclosed an opening which
+led down a steep and rough-hewn way to a great misty valley beneath,
+where was never a bridle-path or causeway over the brawling streams and
+boulders.
+
+"I will ride on.  The mare is done, but the sorrel can make the Bar of
+Balmud."
+
+Cumner's Son opened his mouth to question, but stopped, for the eyes of
+the hillsman flared up, and Tang-a-Dahit said:
+
+"My arm in blood has touched thy arm, and thou art in my hills and not in
+thine own country.  Thy life is my life, and thy good is my good.  Speak
+not, but act.  By the high wall of the valley where no man bides there is
+a path which leads to the Bar of Balmud; but leave it not, whether it go
+up or down or be easy or hard.  If thy feet be steady, thine eye true,
+and thy heart strong, thou shalt come by the Bar of Balmud among my
+people."
+
+Then he caught the hand of Cumner's Son in his own and kissed him between
+the eyes after the manner of a kinsman, and, urging him into the hole,
+rolled the great stone into its place again.  Mounting the sorrel he rode
+swiftly out into the open, rounded the green point full in view of his
+pursuers, and was hid from them in an instant.  Then, dismounting, he
+swiftly crept back through the long grass into the thicket again, mounted
+the mare, and drove her at laboured gallop also around the curve, so that
+it seemed to the plainsmen following that both men had gone that way.  He
+mounted the sorrel again, and loosing a long sash from his waist drew it
+through the mare's bit.  The mare, lightened of the weight, followed
+well.  When the plainsmen came to the cape of green, they paused not by
+the secret place, for it seemed to them that two had ridden past and not
+one.
+
+The Son of Pango Dooni had drawn pursuit after himself, for it is the law
+of the hills that a hillsman shall give his life or all that he has for a
+brother-in-blood.
+
+When Cumner's Son had gone a little way he understood it all!  And he
+would have turned back, but he knew that the hillsman had ridden far
+beyond his reach.  So he ran as swiftly as he could; he climbed where it
+might seem not even a chamois could find a hold; his eyes scarcely seeing
+the long, misty valley, where the haze lay like a vapour from another
+world.  There was no sound anywhere save the brawling water or the lonely
+cry of the flute-bird.  Here was the last refuge of the hillsmen if they
+should ever be driven from the Neck of Baroob.  They could close up every
+entrance, and live unscathed; for here was land for tilling, and wood,
+and wild fruit, and food for cattle.
+
+Cumner's Son was supple and swift, and scarce an hour had passed ere he
+came to a steep place on the other side, with rough niches cut in the
+rocks, by which a strong man might lift himself up to safety.  He stood a
+moment and ate some coffee-beans and drank some cold water from a stream
+at the foot of the crag, and then began his ascent.  Once or twice he
+trembled, for he was worn and tired; but he remembered the last words of
+Tang-a-Dahit, and his fingers tightened their hold.  At last, with a
+strain and a gasp, he drew himself up, and found himself on a shelf of
+rock with all the great valley spread out beneath him.  A moment only he
+looked, resting himself, and then he searched for a way into the hills;
+for everywhere there was a close palisade of rocks and saplings.  At last
+he found an opening scarce bigger than might let a cat through; but he
+laboured hard, and at last drew himself out and looked down the path
+which led into the Bar of Balmud--the great natural escarpment of giant
+rocks and monoliths and medlar trees, where lay Pango Dooni's men.
+
+He ran with all his might, and presently he was inside the huge defence.
+There was no living being to be seen; only the rock-strewn plain and the
+woods beyond.
+
+He called aloud, but nothing answered; he called again the tribe-call of
+Pango Dooni's men, and a hundred armed men sprang up.
+
+"I am a brother-in-blood of Pango Dooni's Son," said he.  "Tang-a-Dahit
+rides for his life to the Bar of Balmud.  Ride forth if ye would save
+him."
+
+"The lad speaks with the tongue of a friend," said a scowling hillsman,
+advancing, "yet how know we but he lies?"
+
+"Even by this," said Cumner's Son, and he spoke the sacred countersign
+and showed again the bracelet of Pango Dooni, and told what had happened.
+Even as he spoke the hillsmen gave the word, and two score men ran down
+behind the rocks, mounted, and were instantly away by the road that led
+to the Koongat Bridge.
+
+The tall hillsman turned to the lad.
+
+"You are beaten by travel," said he.  "Come, eat and drink, and rest."
+
+"I have sworn to breakfast where Pango Dooni bides, and there only will
+I rest and eat," answered the lad.
+
+"The son of Pango Dooni knows the lion's cub from the tame dog's whelp.
+You shall keep your word.  Though the sun ride fast towards noon, faster
+shall we ride in the Neck of Baroob," said the hillsman.
+
+It was half-way towards noon when the hoof-beats drummed over the Brown
+Hermit's cave, and they rested not there; but it was noon and no more
+when they rode through Pango Dooni's gates and into the square where he
+stood.
+
+The tall hillsman dropped to the ground, and Cumner's Son made to do the
+same.  Yet he staggered, and would have fallen, but the hillsman ran an
+arm around his shoulder.  The lad put by the arm, and drew him self up.
+He was most pale.  Pango Dooni stood looking at him, without a word, and
+Cumner's Son doffed his cap.  There was no blood in his lips, and his
+face was white and drawn.
+
+"Since last night what time the bugle blows in the Palace yard, I have
+ridden," said he.
+
+At the sound of his voice the great chief started.  "The voice I know,
+but not the face," said he.
+
+"I am Cumner's Son," replied the lad, and once more he spoke the sacred
+countersign.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+BY THE OLD WELL OF JAHAR
+
+To Cumner's Son when all was told, Pango Dooni said: "If my son be dead
+where those jackals swarm, it is well he died for his friend.  If he be
+living, then it is also well.  If he be saved, we will march to Mandakan,
+with all our men, he and I, and it shall be as Cumner wills, if I stay in
+Mandakan or if I return to my hills."
+
+"My father said in the council-room, 'Better the strong robber than the
+weak coward,' and my father never lied," said the lad dauntlessly.  The
+strong, tall chief, with the dark face and fierce eyes, roused in him the
+regard of youth for strong manhood.
+
+"A hundred years ago they stole from my fathers the State of Mandakan,"
+answered the chief, "and all that is here and all that is there is mine.
+If I drive the kine of thieves from the plains to my hills, the cattle
+were mine ere I drove them.  If I harry the rich in the midst of the
+Dakoon's men, it is gaining my own over naked swords.  If I save your
+tribe and Cumner's men from the half-bred jackal Boonda Broke, and hoist
+your flag on the Palace wall, it is only I who should do it."
+
+Then he took the lad inside the house, with the great wooden pillars and
+the high gates, and the dark windows all barred up and down with iron,
+and he led him to a court-yard where was a pool of clear water.  He made
+him bathe in it, and dark-skinned natives brought him bread dipped in
+wine, and when he had eaten they laid him on skins and rubbed him dry,
+and rolled him in soft linen, and he drank the coffee they gave him, and
+they sat by and fanned him until he fell asleep.
+
+                    .......................
+
+The red birds on the window-sill sang through his sleep into his dreams.
+In his dreams he thought he was in the Dakoon's Palace at Mandakan with a
+thousand men before him, and three men came forward and gave him a sword.
+And a bird came flying through the great chambers and hung over him,
+singing in a voice that he understood, and he spoke to the three and to
+the thousand, in the words of the bird, and said:
+
+"It is fighting, and fighting for honour and glory and houses and kine,
+but naught for love, and naught that there may be peace."
+
+And the men said in reply: "It is all for love and it is all for peace,"
+and they still held out the sword to him.  So he took it and buckled it
+to his side, and the bird, flying away out of the great window of the
+chamber, sang: "Peace!  Peace!  Peace!"  And Pango Dooni's Son standing
+by, with a shining face, said, "Peace!  Peace!" and the great Cumner
+said, "Peace!" and a woman's voice, not louder than a bee's, but clear
+above all others, said, "Peace!"
+
+                    ......................
+
+He awoke and knew it was a dream; and there beside him stood Pango Dooni,
+in his dress of scarlet and gold and brown, his broadsword buckled on, a
+kris at his belt, and a rich jewel in his cap.
+
+"Ten of my captains and three of my kinsmen are come to break bread with
+Cumner's Son," said he.  "They would hear the tale of our kinsmen who
+died against the Palace wall, by the will of the sick Dakoon."
+
+The lad sprang to his feet fresh and well, the linen and skins falling
+away from his lithe, clean body and limbs, and he took from the slaves
+his clothes.  The eye of the chief ran up and down his form, from his
+keen blue eyes to his small strong ankle.
+
+"It is the body of a perfect man," said he.  "In the days when our State
+was powerful and great, when men and not dogs ruled at Mandakan, no man
+might be Dakoon save him who was clear of mote or beam; of true bone and
+body, like a high-bred yearling got from a perfect stud.  But two such
+are there that I have seen in Mandakan to-day, and they are thyself and
+mine own son."
+
+The lad laughed.  "I have eaten good meat," said he, "and I have no muddy
+blood."
+
+When they came to the dining-hall, the lad at first was abashed, for
+twenty men stood up to meet him, and each held out his hand and spoke the
+vow of a brother-in-blood, for the ride he had made and his honest face
+together acted on them.  Moreover, whom the head of their clan honoured
+they also willed to honour.  They were tall, barbaric-looking men, and
+some had a truculent look, but most were of a daring open manner, and
+careless in speech and gay at heart.
+
+Cumner's Son told them of his ride and of Tang-a-Dahit, and, at last, of
+the men of their tribe who died by the Palace wall.  With one accord they
+rose in their places and swore over bread and a drop of blood of their
+chief that they would not sheathe their swords again till a thousand of
+Boonda Broke's and the Dakoon's men lay where their own kinsmen had
+fallen.  If it chanced that Tang-a-Dahit was dead, then they would never
+rest until Boonda Broke and all his clan were blotted out.  Only Pango
+Dooni himself was silent, for he was thinking much of what should be done
+at Mandakan.
+
+They came out upon the plateau where the fortress stood, and five hundred
+mounted men marched past, with naked swords and bare krises in their
+belts, and then wheeled suddenly and stood still, and shot their swords
+up into the air the full length of the arm, and called the battle-call of
+their tribe.  The chief looked on unmoved, save once when a tall trooper
+rode near him.  He suddenly called this man forth.
+
+"Where hast thou been, brother?" he asked.
+
+"Three days was I beyond the Bar of Balmud, searching for the dog who
+robbed my mother; three days did I ride to keep my word with a foe, who
+gave me his horse when we were both unarmed and spent, and with broken
+weapons could fight no more; and two days did I ride to be by a woman's
+side when her great sickness should come upon her.  This is all, my lord,
+since I went forth, save this jewel which I plucked from the cap of a
+gentleman from the Palace.  It was toll he paid even at the gates of
+Mandakan."
+
+"Didst thou do all that thou didst promise?"
+
+"All, my lord."
+
+"Even to the woman?"  The chief's eye burned upon the man.
+
+"A strong male child is come into the world to serve my lord," said the
+trooper, and he bowed his head.  "The jewel is thine and not mine,
+brother," said the chief softly, and the fierceness of his eyes abated;
+"but I will take the child."
+
+The trooper drew back among his fellows, and the columns rode towards the
+farther end of the plateau.  Then all at once the horses plunged into
+wild gallop, and the hillsmen came thundering down towards the chief and
+Cumner's Son, with swords waving and cutting to right and left, calling
+aloud, their teeth showing, death and valour in their eyes.  The chief
+glanced at Cumner's Son.  The horses were not twenty feet from the lad,
+but he did not stir a muscle.  They were not ten feet from him, and
+swords flashed before his eyes, but still he did not stir a hair's
+breadth.  In response to a cry the horses stopped in full career, not
+more than three feet from him.  Reaching out he could have stroked the
+flaming nostril of the stallion nearest him.
+
+Pango Dooni took from his side a short gold-handled sword and handed it
+to him.
+
+"A hundred years ago," said he, "it hung in the belt of the Dakoon of
+Mandakan; it will hang as well in thine."  Then he added, for he saw a
+strange look in the lad's eyes: "The father of my father's father wore it
+in the Palace, and it has come from his breed to me, and it shall go from
+me to thee, and from thee to thy breed, if thou wilt honour me."
+
+The lad stuck it in his belt with pride, and taking from his pocket a
+silver-mounted pistol, said:
+
+"This was the gift of a fighting chief to a fighting chief when they met
+in a beleaguered town, with spoil, and blood, and misery, and sick women
+and children round them; and it goes to a strong man, if he will take the
+gift of a lad."
+
+At that moment there was a cry from beyond the troopers, and it was
+answered from among them by a kinsman of Pango Dooni, and presently, the
+troopers parting, down the line came Tang-a-Dahit, with bandaged head and
+arm.
+
+In greeting, Pango Dooni raised the pistol which Cumner's Son had given
+him and fired it into the air.  Straightway five hundred men did the
+same.
+
+Dismounting, Tang-a-Dahit stood before his father.  "Have the Dakoon's
+vermin fastened on the young bull at last?" asked Pango Dooni, his eyes
+glowering.  "They crawled and fastened, but they have not fed," answered
+Tang-a-Dahit in a strong voice, for his wounds had not sunk deep.  "By
+the Old Well of Jahar, which has one side to the mountain wall, and one
+to the cliff edge, I halted and took my stand.  The mare and the sorrel
+of Cumner's Son I put inside the house that covers the well, and I lifted
+two stones from the floor and set them against the entrance.  A beggar
+lay dead beside the well, and his dog licked his body.  I killed the cur,
+for, following its master, it would have peace, and peace is more than
+life.  Then, with the pole of the waterpail, I threw the dead dog across
+the entrance upon the paving stones, for these vermin of plainsmen will
+not pass where a dead dog lies, as my father knows well.  They came not
+by the entrance, but they swarmed elsewhere, as ants swarm upon a
+sandhill, upon the roofs, and at the little window where the lamp burns.
+
+"I drove them from the window and killed them through the doorway, but
+they were forty to one.  In the end the pest would have carried me to
+death, as a jackal carries the broken meats to his den, if our hillsmen
+had not come.  For an hour I fought, and five of them I killed and seven
+wounded, and then at the shouts of our hillsmen they fled at last.  Nine
+of them fell by the hands of our people.  Thrice was I wounded, but my
+wounds are no deeper than the scratches of a tiger's cub."
+
+"Hadst thou fought for thyself the deed were good," said Pango Dooni,
+"but thy blood was shed for another, and that is the pride of good men.
+We have true men here, but thou art a true chief and this shalt thou
+wear."
+
+He took the rich belt from his waist, and fastened it round the waist of
+his son.
+
+"Cumner's Son carries the sword that hung in the belt.  We are for war,
+and the sword should be out of the belt.  When we are at peace again ye
+shall put the sword in the belt once more, and hang it upon the wall of
+the Palace at Mandakan, even as ye who are brothers shall never part."
+
+Two hours Tang-a-Dahit rested upon skins by the bathing pool, and an hour
+did the slaves knead him and rub him with oil, and give him food and
+drink; and while yet the sun was but half-way down the sky, they poured
+through the Neck of Baroob, over five hundred fighting men, on horses
+that would kneel and hide like dogs, and spring like deer, and that knew
+each tone of their masters' voices.  By the Bar of Balmud they gathered
+another fifty hillsmen, and again half-way beyond the Old Well of Jahar
+they met two score more, who had hunted Boonda Broke's men, and these
+moved into column.  So that when they came to Koongat Bridge, in the
+country infested by the men of the Dakoon, seven hundred stalwart and
+fearless men rode behind Pango Dooni.  From the Neck of Baroob to Koongat
+Bridge no man stayed them, but they galloped on silently, swiftly,
+passing through the night like a cloud, upon which the dwellers by the
+wayside gazed in wonder and in fear.
+
+At Koongat Bridge they rested for two hours, and drank coffee, and broke
+bread, and Cumner's Son slept by the side of Tang-a-Dahit, as brothers
+sleep by their mother's bed.  And Pango Dooni sat on the ground near them
+and pondered, and no man broke his meditation.  When the two hours were
+gone, they mounted again and rode on through the dark villages towards
+Mandakan.
+
+It was just at the close of the hour before dawn that the squad of
+troopers who rode a dozen rods before the columns, heard a cry from the
+dark ahead.  "Halt-in the name of the Dakoon!"
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+CHOOSE YE WHOM YE WILL SERVE
+
+The company drew rein.  All they could see in the darkness was a single
+mounted figure in the middle of the road.  The horseman rode nearer.
+
+"Who are you?" asked the leader of the company.
+
+"I keep the road for the Dakoon, for it is said that Cumner's Son has
+ridden to the Neck of Baroob to bring Pango Dooni down."
+
+By this time the chief and his men had ridden up.  The horseman
+recognised the robber chief, and raised his voice.
+
+"Two hundred of us rode out to face Pango Dooni in this road.  We had not
+come a mile from the Palace when we fell into an ambush, even two
+thousand men led by Boonda Broke, who would steal the roof and bed of the
+Dakoon before his death.  For an hour we fought but every man was cut
+down save me."
+
+"And you?" asked Pango Dooni.
+
+"I come to hold the road against Pango Dooni, as the Dakoon bade me."
+
+Pango Dooni laughed.  "Your words are large," said he.  "What could you,
+one man, do against Pango Dooni and his hillsman?"
+
+"I could answer the Dakoon here or elsewhere, that I kept the road till
+the hill-wolves dragged me down."
+
+"We be the wolves from the hills," answered Pango Dooni.  "You would
+scarce serve a scrap of flesh for one hundred, and we are seven."
+
+"The wolves must rend me first," answered the man, and he spat upon the
+ground at Pango Dooni's feet.
+
+A dozen men started forward, but the chief called them back.
+
+"You are no coward, but a fool," said he to the horseman.  "Which is it
+better: to die, or to turn with us and save Cumner and the English, and
+serve Pango Dooni in the Dakoon's Palace?"
+
+"No man knows that he must die till the stroke falls, and I come to fight
+and not to serve a robber mountaineer."
+
+Pango Dooni's eyes blazed with anger.  "There shall be no fighting, but a
+yelping cur shall be hung to a tree," said he.
+
+He was about to send his men upon the stubborn horseman when the fellow
+said:
+
+"If you be a man you will give me a man to fight.  We were two hundred.
+If it chance that one of a company shall do as the Dakoon hath said, then
+is all the company absolved; and beyond the mists we can meet the Dakoon
+with open eyes and unafraid when he saith, 'Did ye keep your faith?'"
+
+"By the word of a hillsman, but thou shalt have thy will," said the
+chief.  "We are seven hundred men--choose whom to fight."
+
+"The oldest or the youngest," answered the man.  "Pango Dooni or Cumner's
+Son."
+
+Before the chief had time to speak, Cumner's Son struck the man with the
+flat of his sword across the breast.
+
+The man did not lift his arm, but looked at the lad steadily for a
+moment.  "Let us speak together before we fight," said he, and to show
+his good faith he threw down his sword.
+
+"Speak," said Cumner's Son, and laid his sword across the pommel of his
+saddle.
+
+"Does a man when he dies speak his heart to the ears of a whole tribe?"
+
+"Then choose another ear than mine," said Cumner's Son.  "In war I have
+no secrets from my friends."
+
+A look of satisfaction came into Pango Dooni's face.  "Speak with the man
+alone," said he, and he drew back.
+
+Cumner's Son drew a little to one side with the man, who spoke quickly
+and low in English.
+
+"I have spoken the truth," said he.  "I am Cushnan Di"--he drew himself
+up--"and once I had a city of my own and five thousand men, but a plague
+and then a war came, and the Dakoon entered upon my city.  I left my
+people and hid, and changed myself that no one should know me, and I came
+to Mandakan.  It was noised abroad that I was dead.  Little by little I
+grew in favour with the Dakoon, and little by little I gathered strong
+men about me-two hundred in all at last.  It was my purpose, when the day
+seemed ripe, to seize upon the Palace as the Dakoon had seized upon
+my little city.  I knew from my father, whose father built a new portion
+of the Palace, of a secret way by the Aqueduct of the Failing Fountain,
+even into the Palace itself.  An army could ride through and appear in
+the Palace yard like the mist-shapes from the lost legions.  When I had a
+thousand men I would perform this thing, I thought.
+
+"But day by day the Dakoon drew me to him, and the thing seemed hard to
+do, even now before I had the men.  Then his sickness came, and I could
+not strike an ailing man.  When I saw how he was beset by traitors, in my
+heart I swore that he should not suffer by my hands.  I heard of your
+riding to the Neck of Baroob--the men of Boonda Broke brought word.  So I
+told the Dakoon, and I told him also that Boonda Broke was ready to steal
+into his Palace even before he died.  He started up, and new life seemed
+given him.  Calling his servants, he clothed himself, and he came forth
+and ordered out his troops.  He bade me take my men to keep the road
+against Pango Dooni.  Then he ranged his men before the Palace, and
+scattered them at points in the city to resist Boonda Broke.
+
+"So I rode forth, but I came first to my daughter's bedside.  She lies in
+a little house not a stone's throw from the Palace, and near to the
+Aqueduct of the Falling Fountain.  Once she was beautiful and tall and
+straight as a bamboo stem, but now she is in body no more than a piece of
+silken thread.  Yet her face is like the evening sky after a rain.  She
+is much alone, and only in the early mornings may I see her.  She is
+cared for by an old woman of our people, and there she bides, and thinks
+strange thoughts, and speaks words of wisdom.
+
+"When I told her what the Dakoon bade me do, and what I had sworn to
+perform when the Dakoon was dead, she said:
+
+"'But no.  Go forth as the Dakoon hath bidden.  Stand in the road and
+oppose the hillsmen.  If Cumner's Son be with them, thou shalt tell him
+all.  If he speak for the hillsmen and say that all shall be well with
+thee, and thy city be restored when Pango Dooni sits in the Palace of the
+Dakoon, then shalt thou join with them, that there may be peace in the
+land, for Pango Dooni and the son of Pango Dooni be brave strong men.
+But if he will not promise for the hillsmen, then shalt thou keep the
+secret of the Palace, and abide the will of God."'
+
+"Dost thou know Pango Dooni's son?" asked the lad, for he was sure that
+this man's daughter was she of whom Tang-a-Dahit had spoken.
+
+"Once when I was in my own city and in my Palace I saw him.  Then my
+daughter was beautiful, and her body was like a swaying wand of the
+boolda tree.  But my city passed, and she was broken like a trailing
+vine, and the young man came no more."
+
+"But if he came again now?"
+
+"He would not come."
+
+"But if he had come while she lay there like a trailing vine, and
+listened to her voice, and thought upon her words and loved her still.
+If for her sake he came secretly, daring death, wouldst thou stand--"
+
+The man's eyes lighted.  "If there were such truth in any man," he
+interrupted, "I would fight, follow him, and serve him, and my city
+should be his city, and the knowledge of my heart be open to his eye."
+
+Cumner's Son turned and called to Pango Dooni and his son, and they came
+forward.  Swiftly he told them all.  When he had done so the man sprang
+from his horse, and taking off the thin necklet of beaten gold he wore
+round his throat, without a word he offered it to Tang-a-Dahit, and Tang-
+a-Dahit kissed him on the cheek and gave him the thick, loose chain of
+gold he wore.
+
+"For this was it you risked your life going to Mandakan," said Pango
+Dooni, angrily, to his son; "for a maid with a body like a withered
+gourd."  Then all at once, with a new look in his face, he continued
+softly: "Thou hast the soul of a woman, but thy deeds are the deeds
+of a man.  As thy mother was in heart so art thou."
+
+                    ......................
+
+Day was breaking over Mandakan, and all the city was a tender pink.
+Tower and minaret were like inverted cups of ruddy gold, and the streets
+all velvet dust, as Pango Dooni, guided by Cushnan Di, halted at the wood
+of wild peaches, and a great thicket near to the Aqueduct of the Failing
+Fountain, and looked out towards the Palace of the Dakoon.  It was the
+time of peach blossoms, and all through the city the pink and white
+petals fell like the gay crystals of a dissolving sunrise.  Yet there
+rose from the midst of it a long, rumbling, intermittent murmur, and here
+and there marched columns of men in good order, while again disorderly
+bands ran hither and hither with krises waving in the sun, and the red
+turban of war wound round their heads.
+
+They could not see the front of the Palace, nor yet the Residency Square,
+but, even as they looked, a cannonade began, and the smoke of the guns
+curled through the showering peach-trees.  Hoarse shoutings and cries
+came rolling over the pink roofs, and Cumner's Son could hear through all
+the bugle-call of the artillery.
+
+A moment later Cushnan Di was leading them through a copse of pawpaw
+trees to a secluded garden by the Aqueduct, overgrown with vines and
+ancient rose trees, and cherry shrubs.  After an hour's labour with
+spades, while pickets guarded all approach, an opening was disclosed
+beneath the great flag-stones of a ruined building.  Here was a wide
+natural corridor overhung with stalactites, and it led on into an
+artificial passage which inclined gradually upwards till it came into a
+mound above the level by which they entered.  Against this mound was
+backed a little temple in the rear of the Palace.  A dozen men had
+remained behind to cover up the entrance again.  When these heard Pango
+Dooni and the others in the Palace yard they were to ride straight for a
+gate which should be opened to them.
+
+There was delay in opening the stone door which led into the temple, but
+at last they forced their way.  The place was empty, and they rode
+through the Palace yard, pouring out like a stream of spectral horsemen
+from the altar of the temple.  Not a word was spoken as Pango Dooni and
+his company galloped towards the front of the Palace.  Hundreds of the
+Dakoon's soldiers and terrified people who had taken refuge in the great
+court-yard, ran screaming into corners, or threw themselves in terror
+upon the ground.  The walls were lined with soldiers, but not one raised
+his hand to strike--so sudden was the coming of the dreaded hillsman.
+They knew him by the black flag and the yellow sunburst upon it.
+
+Presently Pango Dooni gave the wild battle-call of his tribe, and every
+one of his seven hundred answered him as they rode impetuously to the
+Palace front.  Two thousand soldiers of the Dakoon, under command of his
+nephew, Gis-yo-Bahim, were gathered there.  They were making ready to
+march out and defend the Palace.  When they saw the flag and heard the
+battle-cry there was a movement backward, as though this handful of men
+were an overwhelming army coming at them.  Scattered and disorderly
+groups of men swayed here and there, and just before the entrance of the
+Palace was a wailing group, by which stood two priests with their yellow
+robes and bare shoulders, speaking to them.  From the walls the soldiers
+paused from resisting the swarming herds without.
+
+"The Dakoon is dead!" cried Tang-a-Dahit.
+
+As if in response came the wailing death-cry of the women of the Palace
+through the lattice windows, and it was taken up by the discomfited crowd
+before the Palace door.
+
+"The Lord of all the Earth, the great Dakoon, is dead."
+
+Pango Dooni rode straight upon the group, who fled at his approach, and,
+driving the priests indoors, he called aloud:
+
+"The Dakoon is living.  Fear not!"
+
+For a moment there was no reply, and he waved his men into place before
+the Palace, and was about to ride down upon the native army, but Cumner's
+Son whispered to him, and an instant after the lad was riding alone upon
+the dark legions.  He reined in his horse not ten feet away from the
+irregular columns.
+
+"You know me," said he.  "I am Cumner's Son.  I rode into the hills at
+the Governor's word to bring a strong man to rule you.  Why do ye stand
+here idle?  My father, your friend, fights with a hundred men at
+the Residency.  Choose ye between Boonda Broke, the mongrel, and Pango
+Dooni, the great hillsman.  If ye choose Boonda Broke, then shall your
+city be levelled to the sea, and ye shall lose your name as a people.
+Choose!"
+
+One or two voices cried out; then from the people, and presently from the
+whole dark battalions, came the cry: "Long live Pango Dooni!"
+
+Pango Dooni rode down with Tang-a-Dahit and Cushnan Di.  He bade all but
+five hundred mounted men to lay down their arms.  Then he put over them a
+guard of near a hundred of his own horsemen.  Gathering the men from the
+rampart he did the same with these, reserving only one hundred to remain
+upon the walls under guard of ten hillsmen.  Then, taking his own six
+hundred men and five hundred of the Dakoon's horsemen, he bade the gates
+to be opened, and with Cushnan Di marched out upon the town, leaving
+Tanga-Dahit and Cumner's Son in command at the Palace.
+
+At least four thousand besiegers lay before the walls, and, far beyond,
+they could see the attack upon the Residency.
+
+The gates of the Palace closed on the last of Pango Dooni's men, and with
+a wild cry they rode like a monstrous wave upon the rebel mob.  There was
+no preparation to resist the onset.  The rush was like a storm out of the
+tropics, and dread of Pango Dooni's name alone was as death among them.
+
+The hillsmen clove the besiegers through like a piece of pasteboard, and
+turning, rode back again through the broken ranks, their battle-call
+ringing high above the clash of steel.  Again they turned at the Palace
+wall, and, gathering impetus, they rode at the detached and battered
+segments of the miserable horde, and once more cut them down, then
+furiously galloped towards the Residency.
+
+They could hear one gun firing intermittently, and the roars of Boonda
+Broke's men.  They did not call or cry till within a few hundred yards of
+the Residency Square.  Then their battle-call broke forth, and Boonda
+Broke turned to see seven hundred bearing down on his ten thousand, the
+black flag with the yellow sunburst over them.
+
+Cumner, the Governor, and McDermot heard the cry of the hillsmen, too,
+and took heart.
+
+Boonda Broke tried to divide his force, so that half of them should face
+the hillsmen, and half the Residency; but there was not time enough; and
+his men fought as they were attacked, those in front against Pango Dooni,
+those behind against Cumner.  The hillsmen rode upon the frenzied rebels,
+and were swallowed up by the great mass of them, so that they seemed
+lost.  But slowly, heavily, and with ferocious hatred, they drove their
+hard path on.  A head and shoulders dropped out of sight here and there;
+but the hillsmen were not counting their losses that day, and when Pango
+Dooni at last came near to Boonda Broke the men he had lost seemed found
+again, for it was like water to the thirsty the sight of this man.
+
+But suddenly there was a rush from the Residency Square, and thirty men,
+under the command of Cumner, rode in with sabres drawn.
+
+There was a sudden swaying movement of the shrieking mass between Boonda
+Broke and Pango Dooni, and in the confusion and displacement Boonda Broke
+had disappeared.
+
+Panic and flight came after, and the hillsmen and the little garrison
+were masters of the field.
+
+"I have paid the debt of the mare," said Pango Dooni, laughing.
+
+"No debt is paid till I see the face of my son," answered Cumner
+anxiously.
+
+Pango Dooni pointed with his sword.  "In the Palace yard," said he.
+
+"In the Palace yard, alive?" asked Cumner.  Pango Dooni smiled.  "Let us
+go and see."
+
+Cumner wiped the sweat and dust and blood from his face, and turned to
+McDermot.
+
+"Was I right when I sent the lad?" said he proudly.  "The women and
+children are safe."
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+CONCERNING THE DAUGHTER OF CUSHNAN DI
+
+The British flag flew half-mast from the Palace dome, and two others flew
+behind it; one the black and yellow banner of the hillsmen, the other the
+red and white pennant of the dead Dakoon.  In the Palace yard a thousand
+men stood at attention, and at their head was Cushnan Di with fifty
+hillsmen.  At the Residency another thousand men encamped, with a hundred
+hillsmen and eighty English, under the command of Tang-a-Dahit and
+McDermot.  By the Fountain of the Sweet Waters, which is over against the
+Tomb where the Dakoon should sleep, another thousand men were patrolled,
+with a hundred hillsmen, commanded by a kinsman of Pango Dooni.  Hovering
+near were gloomy, wistful crowds of people, who drew close to the mystery
+of the House of Death, as though the soul of a Dakoon were of more moment
+than those of the thousand men who had fallen that day.  Along the line
+of the Bazaar ranged another thousand men, armed only with krises, under
+the command of the heir of the late Dakoon, and with these were a hundred
+and fifty mounted hillsmen, watchful and deliberate.  These were also
+under the command of a kinsman of Pango Dooni.
+
+It was at this very point that the danger lay, for the nephew of the
+Dakoon, Gis-yo-Bahim, was a weak but treacherous man, ill-fitted to rule;
+a coward, yet ambitious; distrusted by the people, yet the heir to the
+throne.  Cumner and Pango Dooni had placed him at this point for no other
+reason than to give him his chance for a blow, if he dared to strike it,
+at the most advantageous place in the city.  The furtive hangers-on, cut-
+throats, mendicants, followers of Boonda Broke, and haters of the
+English, lurked in the Bazaars, and Gis-yo-Bahim should be tempted for
+the first and the last time.  Crushed now, he could never rise again.
+Pango Dooni had carefully picked the hillsmen whom he had sent to the
+Bazaar, and their captain was the most fearless and the wariest fighter
+from the Neck of Baroob, save Pango Dooni himself.
+
+Boonda Broke was abroad still.  He had escaped from the slaughter before
+the Residency and was hidden somewhere in the city.  There were yet in
+Mandakan ten thousand men who would follow him that would promise the
+most, and Boonda Broke would promise the doors of Heaven as a gift to the
+city, and the treasures of Solomon to the people, if it might serve his
+purposes.  But all was quiet save where the mourners followed their dead
+to the great funeral pyres, which were set on three little hills just
+outside the city.  These wailed as they passed by.  The smoke of the
+burnt powder had been carried away by a gentle wind, and in its place was
+the pervasive perfume of the peach and cherry trees, and the aroma of the
+gugan wood which was like cut sandal in the sun after a rain.  In the
+homes of a few rich folk there was feasting also, for it mattered little
+to them whether Boonda Broke or Pango Dooni ruled in Mandakan, so that
+their wealth was left to them.  But hundreds of tinkling little bells
+broke the stillness.  These were carried by brown bare-footed boys, who
+ran lightly up and down the streets, calling softly: "Corn and tears and
+wine for the dead!"  It was the custom for mourners to place in the hands
+of the dead a bottle of tears and wine, and a seed of corn, as it is
+written in the Proverbs of Dol:
+
+"When thou journeyest into the Shadows, take not sweetmeats with thee,
+but a seed of corn and a bottle of tears and wine; that thou mayest have
+a garden in the land whither thou goest."
+
+It was yet hardly night when the pyres were lighted on the little hills
+and a warm glow was thrown over all the city, made warmer by roseate-hued
+homes and the ruddy stones and velvety dust of the streets.  At midnight
+the Dakoon was to be brought to the Tomb with the Blue Dome.  Now in the
+Palace yard his body lay under a canopy, the flags of Mandakan and
+England over his breast, twenty of his own naked body-guard stood round,
+and four of his high chiefs stood at his head and four at his feet, and
+little lads ran softly past, crying: "Corn and tears and wine for the
+dead!"  And behind all these again were placed the dark battalions and
+the hillsmen.  It went abroad through the city that Pango Dooni and
+Cumner paid great homage to the dead Dakoon, and the dread of the
+hillsmen grew less.
+
+But in one house there had been no fear, for there, by the Aqueduct of
+the Failing Fountain, lived Cushnan Di, a fallen chief, and his daughter
+with the body like a trailing vine; for one knew the sorrow of
+dispossession and defeat and the arm of a leader of men, and the other
+knew Tang-a-Dahit and the soul that was in him.
+
+This night, while yet there was an hour before the body of the dead
+Dakoon should go to the Tomb with the Blue Dome, the daughter of Cushnan
+Di lay watching for her door to open; for she knew what had happened in
+the city, and there was one whom her spirit longed for.  An old woman sat
+beside her with hands clasped about her knees.
+
+"Dost thou hear nothing?" said a voice from the bed.  "Nothing but the
+stir of the mandrake trees, beloved."
+
+"Nay, but dost thou not hear a step?"
+
+"Naught, child of the heaven-flowers, but a dog's foot in the moss."
+
+"Thou art sure that my father is safe?"
+
+"The Prince is safe, angel of the high clouds.  He led the hillsmen by
+the secret way into the Palace yard."  There was silence for a moment,
+and then the girl's voice said again: "Hush!  but there was a footstep--
+I heard a breaking twig."
+
+Her face lighted, and the head slightly turned towards the door.  But the
+body did not stir.  It lay moveless, save where the bosom rose and fell
+softly, quivering under the white robe.  A great wolf-dog raised its head
+at the foot of the bed and pointed its ears, looking towards the door.
+
+The face of the girl was beautiful.  A noble peace was upon it, and the
+eyes were like lamps of dusky fire, as though they held all the strength
+of the nerveless body.  The love burning in them was not the love of a
+maid for a man, but that which comes after, through pain and trouble and
+wisdom.  It was the look that lasts after death, the look shot forward
+from the Hereafter upon a living face which has looked into the great
+mystery, but has not passed behind the curtains.
+
+There was a knock upon the door, and, in response to a summons, Tang-a-
+Dahit stepped inside.  A beautiful smile settled upon the girl's face,
+and her eyes brooded tenderly upon the young hillsman.
+
+"I am here, Mami," said he.
+
+"Friend of my heart," she answered.  "It is so long!"
+
+Then he told her how, through Cumner's Son, he had been turned from his
+visit two days before, and of the journey down, and of the fighting, and
+of all that had chanced.
+
+She smiled, and assented with her eyes--her father had told her.  "My
+father knows that thou dost come to me, and he is not angry," she said.
+
+Then she asked him what was to be the end of all, and he shook his head.
+"The young are not taken into counsel," he answered, "neither I nor
+Cumner's Son."
+
+All at once her eyes brightened as though a current of light had been
+suddenly sent through them.  "Cumner's Son," said she--"Cumner's Son, and
+thou--the future of Mandakan is all with ye; neither with Cumner, nor
+with Pango Dooni, nor with Cushnan Di.  To the old is given counsel, and
+device, and wisdom, and holding; but to the young is given hope, and
+vision, and action, and building, and peace."
+
+"Cumner's Son is without," said he.  "May I fetch him to thee?"
+
+She looked grave, and shrank a little, then answered yes.
+
+"So strong, so brave, so young!" she said, almost under her breath, as
+the young man entered.  Cumner's Son stood abashed at first to see this
+angelic head, so full of light and life, like nothing he had ever seen,
+and the nerveless, moveless body, like a flower with no roots.
+
+"Thou art brave," said she, "and thy heart is without fear, for thou hast
+no evil in thee.  Great things shall come to thee, and to thee," she
+added, turning to Tang-a-Dahit, "but by different ways."
+
+Tang-a-Dahit looked at her as one would look at the face of a saint; and
+his fingers, tired yet with the swinging of the sword, stroked the white
+coverlet of her couch gently and abstractedly.  Once or twice Cumner's
+Son tried to speak, but failed; and at last all he could say was: "Thou
+art good--thou art good!" and then he turned and stole quietly from the
+room.
+
+At midnight they carried the Dakoon to the resting-place of his fathers.
+A thousand torches gleamed from the Palace gates through the Street of
+Divers Pities, and along the Path by the Bazaar to the Tomb with the Blue
+Dome.  A hundred hillsmen rode before, and a hundred behind, and between
+were two thousand soldiers of Mandakan on foot and fifty of the late
+Dakoon's body-guard mounted and brilliant in scarlet and gold.  Behind
+the gun-carriage, which bore the body, walked the nephew of the great
+Dakoon, then came a clear space, and then Pango Dooni, and Cumner, and
+behind these twenty men of the artillery, at whose head rode McDermot and
+Cumner's Son.
+
+As they passed the Path by the Bazaar every eye among the hillsmen and
+among the handful of British was alert.  Suddenly a savage murmuring
+among the natives in the Bazaar broke into a loud snarl, and it seemed as
+if a storm was about to break; but as suddenly, at a call from Cumner,
+the hillsmen, the British, and a thousand native soldiers, faced the
+Bazaar in perfect silence, their lances, swords, and rifles in a pose of
+menace.  The whole procession stood still for a moment.  In the pause the
+crowds in the Bazaar drew back, then came a loud voice calling on them to
+rescue the dead Dakoon from murderers and infidels; and a wave of dark
+bodies moved forward, but suddenly cowered before the malicious stillness
+of the hillsmen and the British, and the wave retreated.
+
+Cumner's Son had recognised the voice, and his eye followed its direction
+with a perfect certainty.  Even as he saw the figure of Boonda Broke
+disguised as a native soldier the half-breed's arm was raised, and a kris
+flew from his hands, aimed at the heart of Pango Dooni.  But as the kris
+flew the youth spurred his horse out of the ranks and down upon the
+murderer, who sprang back into the Bazaar.  The lad fearlessly rode
+straight into the Bazaar, and galloped down upon the fugitive, who
+suddenly swung round to meet him with naked kris; but, as he did so, a
+dog ran across his path, tripped him up, and he half fell.  Before he
+could recover himself a pistol was at his head.  "March!" said the lad;
+and even as ten men of the artillery rode through the crowd to rescue
+their Colonel's son, he marched the murderer on.  But a sudden frenzy
+possessed Boonda Broke.  He turned like lightning on the lad, and raised
+his kris to throw; but a bullet was quicker, and he leaped into the air
+and fell dead without a cry, the kris dropping from his hand.
+
+As Cumner's Son came forth into the path the hills men and artillery
+cheered him, the native troops took it up, and it was answered by the
+people in all the thoroughfare.
+
+Pango Dooni had also seen the kris thrown at himself, but he could not
+escape it, though he half swung round.  It struck him in the shoulder,
+and quivered where it struck, but he drew it out and threw it down.  A
+hillsman bound up the wound, and he rode on to the Tomb.
+
+The Dakoon was placed in his gorgeous house of death, and every man
+cried: "Sleep, lord of the earth!"  Then Cumner stood up in his saddle,
+and cried aloud:
+
+"To-morrow, when the sun stands over the gold dome of the Palace, ye
+shall come to hear your Dakoon speak in the hall of the Heavenly Hours."
+
+No man knew from Cumner's speech who was to be Dakoon, yet every man in
+Mandakan said in the quiet of his home that night:
+
+"To-morrow Pango Dooni will be Dakoon.  We will be as the stubble of the
+field before him.  But Pango Dooni is a strong man."
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+THE RED PLAGUE
+
+              "He promised he'd bring me a basket of posies,
+                  A garland of lilies, a garland of roses,
+               A little straw hat to set off the blue ribbons
+                  That tie up my bonnie brown hair."
+
+This was the song McDermot sang to himself as he walked up the great
+court-yard of the Palace, past the lattice windows, behind which the
+silent women of the late Dakoon's household still sat, passive and grief-
+stricken.  How knew they what the new Dakoon would do--send them off into
+the hills, or kill them?  McDermot was in a famous humour, for he had
+just come from Pango Dooni, the possessor of a great secret, and he had
+been paid high honour.  He looked round on the court-yard complacently,
+and with an air of familiarity and possession which seemed hardly
+justified by his position.  He noted how the lattices stirred as he
+passed through this inner court-yard where few strangers were ever
+allowed to pass, and he cocked his head vaingloriously.  He smiled at the
+lizards hanging on the foundation stones, he paused to dip his finger in
+the basin of a fountain, he eyed good-humouredly the beggars--old
+pensioners of the late Dakoon--seated in the shade with outstretched
+hands.  One of them drew his attention, a slim, cadaverous-looking wretch
+who still was superior to his fellows, and who sat apart from them,
+evidently by their wish as much as by his own.
+
+McDermot was still humming the song to himself as he neared the group;
+but he stopped short, as he heard the isolated beggar repeat after him in
+English:
+
+         "He promised he'd bring me a bunch of blue ribbons,
+          To tie up my bonnie brown hair."
+
+He was startled.  At first he thought it might be an Englishman in
+disguise, but the brown of the beggar's face was real, and there was no
+mistaking the high narrow forehead, the slim fingers, and the sloe-black
+eyes.  Yet he seemed not a native of Mandakan.  McDermot was about to ask
+him who he was, when there was a rattle of horse's hoofs, and Cumner's
+Son galloped excitedly up the court-yard.
+
+"Captain, captain," said he, "the Red Plague is on the city!"
+
+McDermot staggered back in consternation.  "No, no," cried he, "it is not
+so, sir!"
+
+"The man, the first, lies at the entrance of the Path by the Bazaar.  No
+one will pass near him, and all the city goes mad with fear.  What's to
+be done?  What's to be done?  Is there no help for it?" the lad cried in
+despair.  "I'm going to Pango Dooni.  Where is he?  In the Palace?"
+
+McDermot shook his head mournfully, for he knew the history of this
+plague, the horror of its ravages, the tribes it had destroyed.
+
+The beggar leaned back against the cool wall and laughed.  McDermot
+turned on him in his fury, and would have kicked him, but Cumner's Son,
+struck by some astute intelligence in the man's look, said:
+
+"What do you know of the Red Plague?"
+
+Again the beggar laughed.  "Once I saved the city of Nangoon from the
+plague, but they forgot me, and when I complained and in my anger went
+mad at the door of the Palace, the Rajah drove me from the country.  That
+was in India, where I learned to speak English; and here am I at the door
+of a Palace again!"
+
+"Can you save the city from the plague?" asked Cumner's Son, coming
+closer and eagerly questioning.  "Is the man dead?" asked the beggar.
+
+"Not when I saw him--he had just been taken."
+
+"Good.  The city may be saved if--" he looked at Cumner's Son, "if thou
+wilt save him with me.  If he be healed there is no danger; it is the
+odour of death from the Red Plague which carries death abroad."
+
+"Why do you ask this?" asked McDermot, nodding towards Cumner's Son.
+
+The beggar shrugged his shoulders.  "That he may not do with me as did
+the Rajah of Nangoon."
+
+"He is not Dakoon," said McDermot.
+
+"Will the young man promise me?"
+
+"Promise what?" asked Cumner's Son.
+
+"A mat to pray on, a house, a servant, and a loaf of bread, a bowl of
+goat's milk, and a silver najil every day till I die."
+
+"I am not Dakoon," said the lad, "but I promise for the Dakoon--he will
+do this thing to save the city."
+
+"And if thou shouldst break thy promise?"
+
+"I keep my promises," said the lad stoutly.
+
+"But if not, wilt thou give thy life to redeem it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The beggar laughed again and rose.  "Come," said he.
+
+"Don't go--it's absurd!" said McDermot, laying a hand on the young man's
+arm.  "The plague cannot be cured."
+
+"Yes, I will go," answered Cumner's Son.  "I believe he speaks the truth.
+Go you to Pango Dooni and tell him all."
+
+He spurred his horse and trotted away, the beggar running beside him.
+They passed out of the court-yard, and through the Gate by the Fountain
+of Sweet Waters.
+
+They had not gone far when they saw Cumner, the Governor, and six men of
+the artillery riding towards them.  The Governor stopped, and asked him
+where he was going.
+
+The young man told him all.
+
+The Colonel turned pale.  "You would do this thing!" said he dumfounded.
+"Suppose this rascal," nodding towards the beggar, "speaks the truth; and
+suppose that, after all, the sick man should die and--"
+
+"Then the lad and myself would be the first to follow him," interrupted
+the beggar, "and all the multitude would come after, from the babe on the
+mat to the old man by the Palace gates.  But if the sick man lives--"
+
+The Governor looked at his son partly in admiration, partly in pain, and
+maybe a little of anger.
+
+"Is there no one else?  I tell you I--"
+
+"There is no one else; the lad or death for the city!  I can believe the
+young; the old have deceived me," interposed the beggar again.
+
+"Time passes," said Cumner's Son anxiously.  "The man may die.  You say
+yes to my going, sir?" he asked his father.
+
+The Governor frowned, and the skin of his cheeks tightened.
+
+"Go-go, and good luck to you, boy."  He made as if to ride on, but
+stopped short, flung out his hand, and grasped the hand of his son.
+"God be with you, lad," said he; then his jaws closed tightly, and
+he rode on.  It was easier for the lad than for him.
+
+When he told the story to Pango Dooni the chief was silent for a moment;
+then he said:
+
+"Until we know whether it be death or life, whether Cumner's Son save the
+city or lose his life for its sake, we will not call the people together
+in the Hall of the Heavenly Hours.  I will send the heralds abroad, if it
+be thy pleasure, Cumner."
+
+At noon--the hour when the people had been bidden to cry, "Live, Prince
+of the Everlasting Glory!"--they were moving restlessly, fearfully
+through the Bazaar and the highways, and watching from a distance a
+little white house, with blue curtains, where lay the man who was sick
+with the Red Plague, and where watched beside his bed Cumner's Son and
+the beggar of Nangoon.  No one came near.
+
+From the time the sick man had been brought into the house, the beggar
+had worked with him, giving him tinctures which he boiled with sweetmeat
+called the Flower of Bambaba, while Cumner's Son rubbed an ointment into
+his body.  Now and again the young man went to the window and looked out
+at the lines of people hundreds of yards away, and the empty spaces where
+the only life that showed was a gay-plumaged bird that drifted across the
+sunlight, or a monkey that sat in the dust eating a nut.  All at once the
+awe and danger of his position fell upon him.  Imagination grew high in
+him in a moment--that beginning of fear and sorrow and heart-burning;
+yet, too, the beginning of hope and wisdom and achievement.  For the
+first time in his life that knowledge overcame him which masters us all
+sometimes.  He had a desire to fly the place; he felt like running from
+the house, shrieking as he went.  A sweat broke out on his forehead, his
+lips clung to his teeth, his mouth was dry, his breast seemed to
+contract, and breathing hurt him.
+
+"What a fool I was!  What a fool I was to come here!" he said.
+
+He buried his head in his arms as he leaned against the wall, and his
+legs trembled.  From that moment he passed from headlong, daring, lovable
+youth, to manhood; understanding, fearful, conscientious, and morally
+strong.  Just as abject as was his sudden fear, so triumphant was his
+reassertion of himself.
+
+"It was the only way," he said to himself, suddenly wresting his head
+from his protecting arms.  "There's a chance of life, anyhow, chance for
+all of us."  He turned away to the sick man's bed, to see the beggar
+watching him with cold, passive eyes and a curious, half-sneering smile.
+He braced himself and met the passive, scrutinising looks firmly.  The
+beggar said nothing, but motioned to him to lift the sick man upright,
+while he poured some tincture down his throat, and bound the head and
+neck about with saturated linen.
+
+There came a knocking at the door.  The beggar frowned, but Cumner's Son
+turned eagerly.  He had only been in this room ten hours, but it seemed
+like years in which he had lived alone-alone.  But he met firmly the
+passive, inquisitorial eyes of the healer of the plague, and he turned,
+dropped another bar across the door, and bade the intruder to depart.
+
+"It is I, Tang-a-Dahit.  Open!" came a loud, anxious voice.
+
+"You may not come in."
+
+"I am thy brother-in-blood, and my life is thine."
+
+"Then keep it safe for those who prize it.  Go back to the Palace."
+
+"I am not needed there.  My place is with thee."
+
+"Go, then, to the little house by the Aqueduct."  There was silence for
+a moment, and then Tang-a-Dahit said:
+
+"Wilt thou not let me enter?"
+
+The sudden wailing of the stricken man drowned Tang-a-Dahit's words, and
+without a word Cumner's Son turned again to the victim of the Red Plague.
+
+All day the people watched from afar, and all day long soldiers and
+hillsmen drew a wide cordon of quarantine round the house.  Terror seized
+the people when the sun went down, and to the watchers the suspense grew.
+Ceaseless, alert, silent, they had watched and waited, and at last the
+beggar knelt with his eyes fixed on the sleeper, and did not stir.  A
+little way off from him stood Cumner's Son-patient, pale, worn, older by
+ten years than he was three days before.
+
+In the city dismay and misery ruled.  Boonda Broke and the dead Dakoon
+were forgotten.  The people were in the presence of a monster which could
+sweep them from their homes as a hail-storm scatters the hanging nests of
+wild bees.  In a thousand homes little red lights of propitiation were
+shining, and the sweet boolda wood was burning at a thousand shrines.
+Midnight came, then the long lethargic hours after; then that moment when
+all cattle of the field and beasts of the forest wake and stand upon
+their feet, and lie down again, and the cocks crow, and the birds flutter
+their wings, and all resign themselves to sleep once more.  It was in
+this hour that the sick man opened his eyes and raised his head, as
+though the mysterious influence of primitive life were rousing him.
+He said nothing and did nothing, but lay back and drew in a long, good
+breath of air, and afterwards fell asleep.
+
+The beggar got to his feet.  "The man is safe," said he.
+
+"I will go and tell them," said Cumner's Son gladly, and he made as if to
+open the door.
+
+"Not till dawn," commanded the beggar.  "Let them suffer for their sins.
+We hold the knowledge of life and death in our hands."
+
+"But my father, and Tang-a-Dahit, and Pango Dooni."
+
+"Are they without sin?" asked the beggar scornfully.  "At dawn,
+only at dawn!"
+
+So they sat and waited till dawn.  And when the sun was well risen, the
+beggar threw wide open the door of the house, and called aloud to the
+horsemen far off, and Cumner's Son waved with his hand; and McDermot came
+galloping to them.  He jumped from his horse and wrung the boy's hand,
+then that of the beggar, then talked in broken sentences, which were
+spattered by the tears in his throat.  He told Cumner's Son that his face
+was as that of one who had lain in a grave, and he called aloud in a
+blustering voice, and beckoned for troopers to come.  The whole line
+moved down on them, horsemen and soldiers and people.
+
+The city was saved from the Red Plague, and the people, gone mad with
+joy, would have carried Cumner's Son to the Palace on their shoulders,
+but he walked beside the beggar to his father's house, hillsmen in front
+and English soldiers behind; and wasted and ghostly, from riding and
+fighting and watching, he threw himself upon the bed in his own room, and
+passed, as an eyelid blinks, into a deep sleep.
+
+But the beggar sat down on a mat with a loaf of bread, a bowl of goat's
+milk, and a long cigar which McDermot gave him, and he received idly all
+who came, even to the sick man, who ere the day was done was brought to
+the Residency, and, out of danger and in his right mind, lay in the shade
+of a banyan tree, thinking of nothing save the joy of living.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+THE CHOOSING OF THE DAKOON
+
+It was noon again.  In the Hall of the Heavenly Hours all the chiefs and
+great people of the land were gathered, and in the Palace yard without
+were thousands of the people of the Bazaars and the one-storied houses.
+The Bazaars were almost empty, the streets deserted.  Yet silken banners
+of gorgeous colours flew above the pink terraces, and the call of the
+silver horn of Mandakan, which was made first when Tubal Cain was young,
+rang through the long vacant avenues.  A few hundred native troops and a
+handful of hillsmen rode up and down, and at the Residency fifty men kept
+guard under command of Sergeant Doolan of the artillery--his superior
+officers and the rest of his comrades were at the Palace.
+
+In the shade of a banyan tree sat the recovered victim of the Red Plague
+and the beggar of Nangoon, playing a game of chuck-farthing, taught them
+by Sergeant Doolan, a bowl of milk and a calabash of rice beside them,
+and cigarettes in their mouths.  The beggar had a new turban and robe,
+and he sat on a mat which came from the Palace.
+
+He had gone to the Palace that morning as Colonel Cumner had commanded,
+that he might receive the thanks of the Dakoon for the people of
+Mandakan; but he had tired of the great place, and had come back to play
+at chuck-farthing.  Already he had won everything the other possessed,
+and was now playing for his dinner.  He was still chuckling over his
+victory when an orderly and two troopers arrived with a riderless horse,
+bearing the command of Colonel Cumner for the beggar to appear at once at
+the Palace.  The beggar looked doubtfully at the orderly a moment, then
+rose with an air of lassitude and languidly mounted the horse.  Before he
+had got half-way to the Palace he suddenly slid from the horse and said:
+
+"Why should I go?  The son of the great Cumner promised for the Dakoon.
+He tells the truth.  Light of my soul, but truth is the greatest of all!
+I go to play chuck-farthing."
+
+So saying, he turned and ran lazily back to the Residency and sat down
+beneath the banyan tree.  The orderly had no commands to bring him by
+force, so he returned to the Palace, and entered it as the English
+Governor was ending his speech to the people.  "We were in danger," said
+Cumner, "and the exalted chief, Pango Dooni, came to save us.  He
+shielded us from evil and death and the dagger of the mongrel chief,
+Boonda Broke.  Children of heavenly Mandakan, Pango Dooni has lived at
+variance with us, but now he is our friend.  A strong man should rule in
+the Palace of Mandakan as my brother and the friend of my people.  I
+speak for Pango Dooni.  For whom do you speak?"
+
+As he had said, so said all the people in the Hall of the Heavenly Hours,
+and it was taken up with shouts by the people in the Palace yard.  Pango
+Dooni should be Dakoon!
+
+Pango Dooni came forward and said: "If as ye say I have saved ye, then
+will ye do after my desire, if it be right.  I am too long at variance
+with this Palace to sit comfortably here.  Sometime, out of my bitter
+memories, I should smite ye.  Nay, let the young, who have no wrongs to
+satisfy, let the young who have dreams and visions and hopes, rule; not
+the old lion of the hills, who loves too well himself and his rugged ease
+of body and soul.  But if ye owe me any debt, and if ye mean me thanks,
+then will ye make my son Dakoon.  For he is braver than I, and between ye
+there is no feud.  Then will I be your friend, and because my son shall
+be Dakoon I will harry ye no more, but bide in my hills, free and
+friendly, and ready with sword and lance to stand by the faith and fealty
+that I promise.  If this be your will, and the will of the great Cumner,
+speak."
+
+Cumner bowed his head in assent, and the people called in a loud voice
+for Tang-a-Dahit.
+
+The young man stepped forth, and baring his head, said:
+
+"It is meet that the race be to the swift, to those who have proven their
+faith and their swords; who have the gift for ruling, and the talent of
+the sword to sustain it.  For me, if ye will hear me, I will go another
+way.  I will not rule.  My father hath passed on this honour to me, but I
+yield it up to one who hath saved ye from a double death, even to the
+great Cumner's Son.  He rode, as ye know, through peril to Pango Dooni,
+bearing the call for help, and he hath helped to save the whole land from
+the Red Plague.  But for him Mandakan would be only a place of graves.
+Speak, children of heavenly Mandakan, whom will ye choose?"  When
+Cumner's Son stood forth he was pale and astounded before the cries of
+greeting that were carried out through the Palace yard, through the
+highways, and even to the banyan tree where sat the beggar of Nangoon.
+
+"I have done nothing, I have done nothing," said he sincerely.  "It was
+Pango Dooni, it was the beggar of Nangoon.  I am not fit to rule."
+
+He turned to his father, but saw no help in his eyes for refusal.  The
+lad read the whole story of his father's face, and he turned again to the
+people.
+
+"If ye will have it so, then, by the grace of God, I will do right by
+this our land," said he.
+
+A half-hour later he stood before them, wearing the costly robe of yellow
+feathers and gold and perfect silk of the Dakoon of Mandakan.
+
+"The beggar of Nangoon who saved our city, bid him come near," he said;
+but the orderly stepped forward and told his story of how the beggar had
+returned to his banyan tree.
+
+"Then tell the beggar of Nangoon," said he, "that if he will not visit
+me, I will visit him; and all that I promised for the Dakoon of Mandakan
+I will fulfil.  Let Cushnan Di stand forth," he added, and the old man
+came near.  "The city which was yours is yours, again, and all that was
+taken from it shall be restored," said he.
+
+Then he called him by his real name, and the people were amazed.
+
+Cushnan Di, as he had been known to them, said quietly:
+
+"If my Lord will give me place near him as general of his armies and
+keeper of the gates, I will not ask that my city be restored, and I will
+live near to the Palace--"
+
+"Nay, but in the Palace," interrupted Cumner's Son, "and thy daughter
+also, who hath the wisdom of heaven, that there be always truth shining
+in these high places."
+
+An hour later the Dakoon passed through the Path by the Bazaar.
+
+"Whither goes the Dakoon?" asked a native chief of McDermot.
+
+"To visit a dirty beggar in the Residency Square, and afterwards to the
+little house of Cushnan Di," was the reply.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+THE PROPHET OF PEACE
+
+The years went by.
+
+In the cool of a summer evening a long procession of people passed
+through the avenues of blossoming peach and cherry trees in Mandakan,
+singing a high chant or song.  It was sacred, yet it was not solemn;
+peaceful, yet not sombre; rather gentle, aspiring, and clear.  The people
+were not of the city alone, but they had been gathered from all parts of
+the land--many thousands, who were now come on a pilgrimage to Mandakan.
+
+At the head of the procession was a tall, lithe figure, whose face shone,
+and whose look was at once that of authority and love.  Three years'
+labour had given him these followers and many others.  His dreams were
+coming true.
+
+"Fighting, fighting, naught but fighting for honour and glory and homes
+and kine, but naught for love, and naught that there may be peace."--This
+was no longer true; for the sword of the young Dakoon was ever lifted for
+love and for peace.
+
+The great procession stopped near a little house by the Aqueduct of the
+Failing Fountain, and spread round it, and the leader stepped forward to
+the door of the little house and entered.  A silence fell upon the crowd,
+for they were to look upon the face of a dying girl, who chose to dwell
+in her little home rather than in a palace.
+
+She was carried forth on a litter, and set down, and the long procession
+passed by her as she lay.  She smiled at all an ineffable smile of peace,
+and her eyes had in them the light of a good day drawing to its close.
+Only once did she speak, and that was when all had passed, and a fine
+troop of horsemen came riding up.
+
+This was the Dakoon of Mandakan and his retinue.  When he dismounted and
+came to her, and bent over her, he said something in a low tone for her
+ear alone, and she smiled at him, and whispered the one word "Peace!"
+
+Then the Dakoon, who once was known only as Cumner's Son, turned and
+embraced the prophet Sandoni, as he was now called, though once he had
+been called Tang-a-Dahit the hillsman.
+
+"What message shall I bear thy father?" asked the Dakoon, after they had
+talked a while.
+
+Sandoni told him, and then the Dakoon said:
+
+"Thy father and mine, who are gone to settle a wild tribe of the hills in
+a peaceful city, send thee a message."  And he held up his arm, where a
+bracelet shone.
+
+The Prophet read thereon the Sacred Countersign of the hillsmen.
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Ate some coffee-beans and drank some cold water
+His courtesy was not on the same expansive level as his vanity
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CUMNER'S SON AND OTHER SOUTH SEA FOLK
+
+(AUSTRALIANA)
+
+by Gilbert Parker
+
+Volume 2.
+
+
+THE HIGH COURT OF BUDGERY-GAR
+AN EPIC IN YELLOW
+DIBBS, R.N.
+A LITTLE MASQUERADE
+DERELICT
+OLD ROSES
+MY WIFE'S LOVERS
+THE STRANGERS' HUT
+
+
+
+THE HIGH COURT OF BUDGERY-GAR
+
+We were camped on the edge of a billabong.  Barlas was kneading a damper,
+Drysdale was tenderly packing coals about the billy to make the water
+boil, and I was cooking the chops.  The hobbled horses were picking the
+grass and the old-man salt-bush near, and Bimbi, the black boy, was
+gathering twigs and bark for the fire.  That is the order of merit--
+Barlas, Drysdale, myself, the horses and Bimbi.  Then comes the Cadi all
+by himself.  He is given an isolated and indolent position, because he
+was our guest and also because, in a way, he represented the Government.
+And though bushmen do not believe much in a far-off Government--even
+though they say when protesting against a bad Land Law, "And your
+Petitioners will ever Pray," and all that kind of yabber-yabber--they
+give its representative the lazy side of the fire and a fig of the best
+tobacco when he bails up a camp as the Cadi did ours.  Stewart Ruttan,
+the Cadi, was the new magistrate at Windowie and Gilgan, which stand for
+a huge section of the Carpentaria country.  He was now on his way to
+Gilgan to try some cases there.  He was a new chum, though he had lived
+in Australia for years.  As Barlas said, he'd been kept in a cultivation-
+paddock in Sydney and Brisbane; and he was now going to take the business
+of justice out of the hands of Heaven and its trusted agents the bushmen,
+and reduce the land to the peace of the Beatitudes by the imposing reign
+of law and summary judgments.  Barlas had just said as much, though in
+different language.
+
+I knew by the way that Barlas dropped the damper on the hot ashes and
+swung round on his heel that he was in a bad temper.  "And so you think,
+Cadi," said he, "that we squatters and bushmen are a strong, murderous
+lot; that we hunt down the Myalls--[Aborigines]--like kangaroos or
+dingoes, and unrighteously take justice in our own hands instead of
+handing it over to you?"
+
+"I think," said the Cadi, "that individual and private revenge should
+not take the place of the Courts of Law.  If the blacks commit
+depredations--"
+
+"Depredations!" interjected Drysdale with sharp scorn.
+
+"If they commit depredations and crimes," the Cadi continued, "they
+should be captured as criminals are captured elsewhere and be brought in
+and tried.  In that way respect would be shown to British law and--"
+here he hesitated slightly, for Barlas's face was not pleasant to see--
+"and the statutes."
+
+But Barlas's voice was almost compassionate as he said: "Cadi, every man
+to his trade, and you've got yours.  But you haven't learned yet that
+this isn't Brisbane or Melbourne.  You haven't stopped to consider how
+many police would be necessary for this immense area of country if you
+are really to be of any use.  And see here,"--his face grew grim and
+dark, "you don't know what it is to wait for the law to set things right
+in this Never Never Land.  There isn't a man in the Carpentaria and Port
+Darwin country but has lost a friend by the cowardly crack of a waddy in
+the dead of night or a spear from behind a tree.  Never any fair
+fighting, but red slaughter and murder--curse their black hearts!"
+Barlas gulped down what seemed very like a sob.
+
+Drysdale and I knew how strongly Barlas felt.  He had been engaged to be
+married to a girl on the Daly River, and a week before the wedding she
+and her mother and her two brothers were butchered by blacks whom they
+had often befriended and fed.  We knew what had turned Barlas's hair grey
+and spoiled his life.
+
+Drysdale took up the strain: "Yes, Cadi, you've got the true missionary
+gospel, the kind of yabber they fire at each other over tea and buns at
+Darling Point and Toorak--all about the poor native and the bad, bad men
+who don't put peas in their guns, and do sometimes get an eye for an eye
+and a tooth for a tooth.  .  .  .  Come here, Bimbi."  Bimbi came.
+
+"Yes, master," Bimbi said.
+
+"You kill that black-fellow mother belonging to you?"
+
+"Yes, master."
+
+"Yes," Drysdale continued, "Bimbi went out with a police expedition
+against his own tribe, and himself cut his own mother's head off.  As a
+race, as a family, the blacks have no loyalty.  They will track their own
+brothers down for the whites as ruthlessly as they track down the whites.
+As a race they are treacherous and vile, though as individuals they may
+have good points."
+
+"No, Cadi," once more added Barlas, "we can get along very well without
+your consolidated statutes or High Courts or Low Courts just yet.  They
+are too slow.  Leave the black devils to us.  You can never prove
+anything against them in a court of law.  We've tried that.  Tribal
+punishment is the only proper thing for individual crime.  That is what
+the nations practise in the islands of the South Seas.  A trader or a
+Government official is killed.  Then a man-of-war sweeps a native village
+out of existence with Hotchkiss guns.  Cadi, we like you; but we say to
+you, Go back to your cultivation-paddock at Brisbane, and marry a wife
+and beget children before the Lord, and feed on the Government, and let
+us work out our own salvation.  We'll preserve British justice and the
+statutes, too.  .  .  .  There, the damper, as Bimbi would say, is
+'corbon budgery', and your chop is done to a turn, Cadi.  And now let's
+talk of something that doesn't leave a bad taste in the mouth."
+
+The Cadi undoubtedly was more at home with reminiscences of nights at the
+Queensland Club and moonlight picnics at lovely Humpy Bong and champagne
+spreads in a Government launch than at dispensing law in the Carpentaria
+district.  And he had eager listeners.  Drysdale's open-mouthed, admiring
+"My word!" as he puffed his pipe, his back against an ironbark tree, was
+most eloquent of long banishment from the delights of the "cultivation-
+paddock"; and Barlas nodded frequently his approval, and was less grim
+than usual.  Yet, peaceful as we were, it might have puzzled a stranger
+to see that all of us were armed--armed in this tenantless, lonely
+wilderness!  Lonely and tenantless enough it seemed.  There was the range
+of the Copper-mine hills to the south, lighted by the wan moon; and
+between and to the west a rough scrub country, desolating beyond words,
+and where even edible snakes would be scarce; spots of dead-finish,
+gidya, and brigalow-bush to north and east, and in the trees by the
+billabong the cry of the cockatoo and the laughing-jackass.  It was
+lonely, but surely it was safe.  Yes, perhaps it was safe!
+
+It was late when we turned in, our heads upon our saddles, for the Cadi
+had been more than amusing--he had been confidential, and some political
+characters were roughly overhauled for our benefit, while so-called
+Society did not escape flagellation.  Next morning the Cadi left us.  He
+gave us his camps--Bora Bora, Budgery-Gar, Wintelliga, and Gilgan--since
+we were to go in his direction also soon.  He turned round in his saddle
+as he rode off, and said gaily: "Gentlemen, I hope you'll always help to
+uphold the majesty of the law as nobly as you have sustained its envoy
+from your swags."
+
+Drysdale and I waved our hands to him, but Barlas muttered something
+between his teeth.  We had two days of cattle-hunting in the Copper-mine
+hills, and then we started westward, in the tracks of the Cadi, to make
+for Barlas's station.  The second day we camped at Bora Bora Creek.  We
+had just hobbled the horses, and were about to build a fire, when Bimbi
+came running to us.  "Master, master," he said to Drysdale, "that fellow
+Cadi yarraman mumkull over there.  Plenty myall mandowie!"--(" Master,
+master, the Cadi's horse is dead over there, and there are plenty of
+black fellows' tracks about.")
+
+We found the horse pierced with spears.  The Cadi had evidently mounted
+and tried to get away.  And soon, by a clump of the stay-a-while bush,
+we discovered, alas!  the late companion of our camp-fire.  He was gashed
+from head to foot, and naked.
+
+We buried him beneath a rustling sandal-tree, and on its bark carved the
+words:
+
+"Sacred to the memory of Stewart Ruttan."
+
+And beneath, Barlas added the following:
+
+"The Cadi sleeps.  The Law regards him not."
+
+In a pocket of the Cadi's coat, which lay near, we found the picture of a
+pretty girl.  On it was written:
+
+"To dearest Stewart, from Alice."
+
+Barlas's face was stern and drawn.  He looked at us from under his shaggy
+brows.
+
+"There's a Court to be opened," he said.  "Do you stand for law or
+justice?"
+
+"For justice," we replied.
+
+Four days later in a ravine at Budgery-Gar a big camp of blacks were
+feasting.  With loathsome pantomime they were re-enacting the murders
+they had committed within the past few days; murders of innocent white
+women and children, and good men and true--among them the Cadi, God help
+him!  Great fires were burning in the centre of the camp, and the bodies
+of the black devils writhed with hideous colour in the glare.  Effigies
+of murdered whites were speared and mangled with brutal cries, and then
+black women of the camp were brought out, and mockeries of unnameable
+horrors were performed.  Hell had emptied forth its carrion.
+
+But twelve bitter white men looked down upon this scene from the scrub
+and rocks above, and their teeth were set.  Barlas, their leader, turned
+to them and said: "This court is open.  Are you ready?"
+
+The click of twelve rifles was the reply.
+
+When these twelve white jurymen rode away from the ravine there was not
+one but believed that justice had been done by the High Court of Budgery-
+Gar.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+AN EPIC IN YELLOW
+
+There was a culminating growth of irritation on board the Merrie Monarch.
+The Captain was markedly fitful and, to a layman's eye, unreliable at the
+helm; the Hon. Skye Terryer was smoking violently, and the Newspaper
+Correspondent--representing an American syndicate--chewed his cigar in
+silence.
+
+"Yes," Gregson, the Member of Parliament, continued, "if I had my way I'd
+muster every mob of Chinamen in Australia, I'd have one thundering big
+roundup, and into the Pacific and the Indian Sea they'd go, to the crack
+of a stock-whip or of something more convincing."  The Hon. Skye Terryer
+was in agreement with the Squatting Member in the principle of his
+argument if not in the violence of his remedies.  He was a young
+travelling Englishman; one of that class who are Radicals at twenty,
+Independents at thirty, and Conservatives at forty.  He had not yet
+reached the intermediate stage.  He saw in this madcap Radical Member one
+of the crude but strong expressions of advanced civilisation.  He had the
+noble ideal of Australia as a land trodden only by the Caucasian.  The
+Correspondent, much to our surprise, had by occasional interjections at
+the beginning of the discussion showed that he was not antipathetic to
+Mongolian immigration.  The Captain?
+
+"Yes, I'd give 'em Botany Bay, my word!" added the Member as an anti-
+climax.
+
+The Captain let go the helm with a suddenness which took our breath away,
+apparently regardless that we were going straight as an arrow on the
+Island of Pentecost, the shore of which, in its topaz and emerald tints,
+was pretty enough to look at but not to attack, end on.  He pushed both
+hands down deep into his pockets and squared himself for war.
+
+"Gregson," he said, "that kind of talk may be good enough for Parliament
+and for labour meetings, but it is not proper diet for the Merrie
+Monarch.  It's a kind of political gospel that's no better than the creed
+of the Malay who runs amuck.  God's Providence--where would your Port
+Darwin Country have been without the Chinaman?  What would have come to
+tropical agriculture in North Queensland if it had not been for the same?
+And what would all your cities do for vegetables to eat and clean shirts
+to their backs if it was not for the Chinkie?  As for their morals, look
+at the police records of any well-regulated city where they are--well-
+regulated, mind you, not like San Francisco!  I pity the morals of a man
+and the stupidity of him and the benightedness of him that would drive
+the Chinaman out at the point of the bayonet or by the crack of a rifle.
+I pity that man, and--and I wash my hands of him."
+
+And having said all this with a strong Scotch accent the Captain
+opportunely turned to his duty and prevented us from trying conclusions
+with the walls of a precipice, over which fell silver streams of water
+like giant ropes up which the Naiads might climb to the balmy enclosures
+where the Dryads dwelt.  The beauty of the scene was but a mechanical
+impression, to be remembered afterward when thousands of miles away, for
+the American Correspondent now at last lit his cigar and took up the
+strain.
+
+"Say, the Captain's right," he said.  "You English are awful prigs and
+hypocrites, politically; as selfish a lot as you'll find on the face of
+the globe.  But in this matter of the Chinaman there isn't any difference
+between a man from Oregon and one from Sydney, only the Oregonian isn't
+a prig and a hypocrite; he's only a brute, a bragging, hard-handed brute.
+He got the Chinaman to build his railways--he couldn't get any other race
+to do it--same fix as the planter in North Queensland with the
+Polynesian; and to serve him in pioneer times and open up the country,
+and when that was done he turns round and says: 'Out you go, you Chinkie
+--out you go and out you stay!  We're going to reap this harvest all
+alone; we're going to Chicago you clean off the table!'  And Washington,
+the Home of Freedom and Tammany Tigers, shoves a prohibitive Bill through
+the Legislature, as Parkes did in Sydney; only Parkes talked a lot of
+Sunday-school business about the solidarity of the British race, and
+Australia for the Australians, and all that patter; and the Oregonian
+showed his dirty palm of selfishness straight out, and didn't blush
+either.  'Give 'em Botany Bay!  Give'em the stock-whip and the rifle!'
+That's a nice gospel for the Anglo-Saxon dispensation."
+
+The suddenness of the attack overwhelmed the Member, but he was choking
+with wrath.  Had he not stone-walled in the New South Wales Parliament
+for nine hours, and been placed on a Royal Commission for that service?
+"My word!"  But the box of cigars was here amiably passed, and what
+seemed like a series of international complications was stayed.  It was
+perhaps fortunate, however, that at this moment a new interest sprang up.
+We were rounding a lofty headland crowned with groves of cocoa-palms and
+bananas and with trailing skirts of flowers and vines, when we saw ahead
+of us a pretty little bay, and on the shore a human being plainly not a
+Polynesian.  Up the hillside that rose suddenly from the beach was a
+thatched dwelling, not built open all round like most native houses, and
+apparently having but one doorway.  In front of the house, and near it,
+was a tall staff, and on the staff the British Flag.
+
+In a moment we, too, had the British Flag flying at our mast-head.
+
+Long ago I ceased to wonder at coincidences, still I confess I was
+scarcely prepared for the Correspondent's exclamation, as, taking the
+marine glass from his eyes, he said: "Well, I'm decalogued if it ain't
+a Chinaman!"
+
+It certainly was so.  Here on the Island of Pentecost, in the New
+Hebrides, was a Celestial washing clothes on the beach as much at home
+as though he were in Tacoma or Cooktown.  The Member's "My oath!"
+Skye Terryer's "Ah!" and the Captain's chuckle were as weighty with
+importance as though the whole question of Chinese immigration were now
+to be settled.  As we hove-to and dropped anchor, a boat was pushed out
+into the surf by a man who had hurriedly come down the beach from the
+house.  In a moment or two he was alongside.  An English face and an
+English voice greeted us, and in the doorway of the house were an English
+woman and her child.
+
+What pleasure this meeting gave to us and to the trader--for such he was,
+those only can know who have sailed these Southern Seas through long and
+nerveless tropic days, and have lived, as this man did with his wife and
+child, for months never seeing a white face, and ever in danger of an
+attack from cannibal tribes, who, when apparently most disposed to amity,
+are really planning a massacre.  Yet with that instinct of gain so strong
+in the Anglo-Saxon, this trader had dared the worst for the chance of
+making money quickly and plentifully by the sale of copra to occasional
+vessels.  The Chinaman had come with the trader from Queensland, and we
+were assured was "as good as gold."  If colour counted, he looked it.  At
+this the pro-Mongolian magnanimously forbore to show any signs of
+triumph.  The Correspondent, on the contrary, turned to the Chinaman and
+began chaffing him; he continued it as the others, save myself, passed on
+towards the house.
+
+This was the close of the dialogue: "Well, John, how are you getting on?"
+
+"Welly good," was John's reply; "thirletty dollars a month, and learn the
+plan of salvation."
+
+The Correspondent laughed.
+
+"Well, you good Englishman, John?  You like British flag?  You fight?"
+
+And John, blinking jaundicely, replied: "John allee samee Linglishman-
+muchee fightee blimeby--nigger no eatee China boy;" and he chuckled.
+
+A day and a night we lingered in the little Bay of Vivi, and then we left
+it behind; each of us, however, watching till we could see the house on
+the hillside and the flag no longer, and one at least wondering if that
+secret passage into the hills from the palm-thatched home would ever be
+used as the white dwellers fled for their lives.
+
+We had promised that, if we came near Pentecost again on our cruise, we
+would spend another idle day in the pretty bay.  Two months passed and
+then we kept our word.  As we rounded the lofty headland the
+Correspondent said: "Say, I'm hankering after that baby!"  But the
+Captain at the moment hoarsely cried: "God's love!  but where are the
+house and the flag?"
+
+There was no house and there was no flag above the Bay of Vivi.
+
+Ten minutes afterwards we stood beside the flag-staff, and at our feet
+lay a moaning, mangled figure.  It was the Chinaman, and over his gashed
+misery were drawn the folds of the flag that had flown on the staff.
+What horror we feared for those who were not to be seen needs no telling
+here.
+
+As for the Chinaman, it was as he said; the cannibals would not "eatee
+Chinee boy."  They were fastidious.  They had left him, disdaining even
+to take his head for a trophy.
+
+Hours after, on board the Merrie Monarch, we learned in fragments the sad
+story.  It was John Chinaman that covered the retreat of the wife and
+child into the hills when the husband had fallen.
+
+The last words that the dying Chinkie said were these: "Blitish flag
+wellee good thing keepee China boy walm; plentee good thing China boy
+sleepee in all a-time."
+
+So it was.  With rude rites and reverent hands, we lowered him to the
+deep from the decks of the Merrie Monarch, and round him was that flag
+under which he had fought for English woman and English child so
+valorously.
+
+              "And he went like a warrior into his rest
+               With the Union Jack around him."
+
+That was the paraphrasing epitaph the Correspondent wrote for him in the
+pretty Bay of Vivi, and when he read it, we all drank in silence to the
+memory of "a Chinkie."
+
+We found the mother and the child on the other side of the island ere a
+week had passed, and bore them away in safety.  They speak to-day of a
+member of a despised race, as one who showed
+
+              "The constant service of the antique world."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+DIBBS, R.N.
+
+"Now listen to me, Neddie Dibbs," she said, as she bounced the ball
+lightly on her tennis-racket, "you are very precipitate.  It's only four
+weeks since you were court-martialed, and you escaped being reduced by
+the very closest shave; and yet you come and make love to me, and want
+me to marry you.  You don't lack confidence, certainly."
+
+Commander Dibbs, R.N.  was hurt; but he did not become dramatic.  He felt
+the point of his torpedo-cut beard, and smiled up pluckily at her--she
+was much taller than he.
+
+"I know the thing went against me rather," he said, but it was all wrong,
+I assure you.  It's cheeky, of course, to come to you like this so soon
+after, but for two years I've been looking forward up there in the China
+Sea to meeting you again.  You don't know what a beast of a station it
+is--besides, I didn't think you'd believe the charge."
+
+"The charge was that you had endangered the safety of one of her
+Majesty's cruisers by trying to run through an unexplored opening
+in the Barrier Reef.  Was that it?"
+
+"That was it."
+
+"And you didn't endanger her?"
+
+"Yes, I did, but not wilfully, of course, nor yet stupidly."
+
+"I read the evidence, and, frankly, it looked like stupidity."
+
+"I haven't been called stupid usually, have I"
+
+"No.  I've heard you called many things, but never that."
+
+Every inch of his five-feet-five was pluck.  He could take her shots
+broadside, and laugh while he winced.  "You've heard me called a good
+many things not complimentary, I suppose, for I know I'm not much to look
+at, and I've an edge to my tongue sometimes.  What is the worst thing you
+ever said of me?" he added a little bitterly.
+
+"What I say to you now--though, by the way, I've never said it before--
+that your self-confidence is appalling.  Don't you know that I'm very
+popular, that they say I'm clever, and that I'm a tall, good-looking
+girl?"
+
+She looked down at him, and said it with such a delightful naivete,
+through which a tone of raillery ran, that it did not sound as it may
+read.  She knew her full value, but no one had ever accused her of
+vanity--she was simply the most charming, outspoken girl in the biggest
+city of Australia.
+
+"Yes, I know all that," he replied with an honest laugh.  "When you were
+a little child,--according to your mother, and were told you were not
+good, you said: 'No, I'm not good--I'm only beautiful.'"
+
+Dibbs had a ready tongue, and nothing else he said at the moment could
+have had so good an effect.  She laughed softly and merrily.  "You have
+awkward little corners in your talk at times.  I wonder they didn't
+reduce you at the court-martial.  You were rather keen with your words
+once or twice there."
+
+A faint flush ran over Dibbs's face, but he smiled through it, and didn't
+give away an inch of self-possession.  "If the board had been women, I'd
+have been reduced right enough--women don't go by evidence, but by their
+feelings; they don't know what justice really is, though by nature
+they've some undisciplined generosity."
+
+"There again you are foolish.  I'm a woman.  Now why do you say such
+things to me, especially when--when you are aspiring!  Properly, I ought
+to punish you.  But why did you say those sharp things at your trial?
+They probably told against you."
+
+"I said them because I felt them, and I hate flummery and thick-
+headedness.  I was as respectful as I could be; but there were things
+about the trial I didn't like--irregular things, which the Admiral
+himself, who knows his business, set right."
+
+"I remember the Admiral said there were points about the case that he
+couldn't quite understand, but that they could only go by such testimony
+as they had."
+
+"Exactly," he said sententiously.
+
+She wheeled softly on him, and looked him full in the eyes.  "What other
+testimony was there to offer?"
+
+"We are getting a long way from our starting-point," he answered
+evasively.  "We were talking of a more serious matter."
+
+"But a matter with which this very thing has to do, Neddie Dibbs.
+There's a mystery somewhere.  I've asked Archie; but he won't say a word
+about it, except that he doesn't think you were to blame."
+
+"Your brother is a cautious fellow."  Then, hurriedly: "He is quite right
+to express no opinion as to any mystery.  Least said soonest mended."
+
+"You mean that it is proper not to discuss professional matters in
+society?"
+
+"That's it."  A change had passed over Dibbs's face--it was slightly
+paler, but his voice was genial and inconsequential.
+
+"Come and sit down at the Point," she said.
+
+They went to a cliff which ran out from one corner of the garden, and sat
+down on a bench.  Before them stretched the harbour, dotted with sails;
+men-of-war lay at anchor, among them the little Ruby, Commander Dibbs's
+cruiser.  Pleasure-steamers went hurrying along to many shady harbours;
+a tall-masted schooner rode grandly in between the Heads, balanced with
+foam; and a beach beneath them shone like opal: it was a handsome sight.
+
+For a time they were silent.  At last he said: "I know I haven't much to
+recommend me.  I'm a little beggar--nothing to look at; I'm pretty poor;
+I've had no influence to push me on; and just at the critical point in my
+career--when I was expecting promotion--I get this set-back, and lose
+your good opinion, which is more to me, though I say it bluntly like a
+sailor, than the praise of all the Lords of the Admiralty, if it could
+be got.  You see, I always was ambitious; I was certain I'd be a captain;
+I swore I'd be an admiral one day; and I fell in love with the best girl
+in the world, and said I'd not give up thinking I would marry her until
+and unless I saw her wearing another man's name--and I don't know that
+I should even then."
+
+"Now that sounds complicated--or wicked," she said, her face turned away
+from him.
+
+"Believe me, it is not complicated; and men marry widows sometimes."
+
+"You are shocking," she said, turning on him with a flush to her cheek
+and an angry glitter in her eye.  "How dare you speak so cold-bloodedly
+and thoughtlessly?"
+
+"I am not cold-blooded or thoughtless, nor yet shocking.  I only speak
+what is in my mind with my usual crudeness.  I know it sounds insolent of
+me, but, after all, it is only being bold with the woman for whom--half-
+disgraced, insignificant, but unquenchable fellow as I am--I'd do as much
+as, and, maybe, dare more for than any one of the men who would marry her
+if they could."
+
+"I like ambitious men," she said relenting, and meditatively pushing
+the grass with her tennis-racket; "but ambition isn't everything, is it?
+There must be some kind of fulfilment to turn it into capital, as it
+were.  Don't let me hurt your feelings, but you haven't done a great
+deal yet, have you?"
+
+"No, I haven't.  There must be occasion.  The chance to do something big
+may start up any time, however.  You never can tell when things will come
+your way.  You've got to be ready, that's all."
+
+"You are very confident."
+
+"You'll call me a prig directly, perhaps, but I can't help that.  I've
+said things to you that I've never said to any one in the world, and I
+don't regret saying them."
+
+She looked at him earnestly.  She had never been made love to in this
+fashion.  There was no sentimentalism in it, only straightforward
+feeling, forceful, yet gentle.  She knew he was aware that the Admiral of
+his squadron had paid, and was paying, court to her; that a titled aide-
+de-camp at Government House was conspicuously attentive; that one of the
+richest squatters in the country was ready to make astonishing
+settlements at any moment; and that there was not a young man of note
+acquainted with her who did not offer her gallant service-in the ball-
+room.  She smiled as she thought of it.  He was certainly not large, but
+no finer head was ever set on a man's shoulders, powerful, strongly
+outlined, nobly balanced.  The eyes were everywhere; searching,
+indomitable, kind.  It was a head for a sculptor.  Ambition became it
+well.  She had studied that head from every stand-point, and had had the
+keenest delight in talking to the man.  But, as he said, that was two
+years before, and he had had bad luck since then.
+
+She suddenly put this question to him: "Tell me all the truth about that
+accident to the Ruby.  You have been hiding something.  The Admiral was
+right, I know.  Some evidence was not forthcoming that would have thrown
+a different light on the affair."
+
+"I can tell you nothing," he promptly replied.
+
+"I shall find out one day," she said.
+
+"I hope not; though I'm grateful that you wish to do so."
+
+He rose hurriedly to his feet; he was looking at the harbour below.
+He raised the field-glass he had carried from the veranda to his eyes.
+He was watching a yacht making across the bay towards them.
+
+She spoke again.  "You are going again to-morrow?"
+
+"Yes; all the ships of the squadron but one get away."
+
+"How long shall you be gone?"
+
+"Six months at least----  Great God!"
+
+He had not taken the glasses from his eyes as they talked, but had
+watched the yacht as she came on to get under the lee of the high shore
+at their right.  He had noticed that one of those sudden fierce winds,
+called Southerly Busters, was sweeping down towards the craft, and would
+catch it when it came round sharp, as it must do.  He recognised the boat
+also.  It belonged to Laura Harman's father, and her brother Archie was
+in it.  The gale caught the yacht as Dibbs foresaw, and swamped her.
+He dropped the glass, cried to the girl to follow, and in a minute had
+scrambled down the cliff, and thrown off most of his things.  He had
+launched a skiff by the time the girl reached the shore.  She got in
+without a word.  She was deadly pale, but full of nerve.  They rowed hard
+to where they could see two men clinging to the yacht; there had been
+three in it.  The two men were not hauled in, for the gale was blowing
+too hard, but they clung to the rescuing skiff.  The girl's brother was
+not to be seen.  Instantly Dibbs dived under the yacht.  It seemed an
+incredible time before he reappeared; but when he did, he had a body with
+him.  Blood was coming from his nose, the strain of holding his breath
+had been so great.  It was impossible to get the insensible body into the
+skiff.  He grasped the side, and held the boy's head up.  The girl rowed
+hard, but made little headway.  Other rescue boats arrived presently,
+however, and they were all got to shore safely.
+
+Lieutenant Archie Harman did not die.  Animation was restored after great
+difficulty, but he did not sail away with the Ruby next morning to the
+Polynesian Islands.  Another man took his place.
+
+Little was said between Commander Dibbs and Laura Harman at parting late
+that night.  She came from her brother's bedside and laid her hand upon
+his arm.  "It is good," she said, "for a man to be brave as well as
+ambitious.  You are sure to succeed; and I shall be proud of you, for--
+for you saved my brother's life, you see," she timidly added; and she
+was not often timid.
+
+                    .........................
+
+Five months after, when the Ruby was lying with the flag-ship off one
+of the Marshall Islands, a packet of letters was brought from Fiji by a
+trading-schooner.  One was for Commander Dibbs.  It said in brief: "You
+saved my brother's life--that was brave.  You saved his honour--that was
+noble.  He has told me all.  He will resign and clear you when the
+Admiral returns.  You are a good man."
+
+"He ought to be kicked," Dibbs said to himself.  "Did the cowardly beggar
+think I did it for him--blast him!"
+
+He raged inwardly; but he soon had something else to think of, for a
+hurricane came down on them as they lay in a trap of coral with only one
+outlet, which the Ruby had surveyed that day.  He took his ship out
+gallantly, but the flag-ship dare not attempt it--Dibbs was the only man
+who knew the passage thoroughly.  He managed to land on the shore below
+the harbour, and then, with a rope round him, essayed to reach the flag-
+ship from the beach.  It was a wild chance, but he got there badly
+battered.  Still, he took her with her Admiral out to the open safely.
+
+That was how Dibbs became captain of a great iron-clad.
+
+Archie Harman did not resign; Dibbs would not let him.  Only Archie's
+sister knew that he was responsible for the accident to the Ruby, which
+nearly cost Dibbs his reputation; for he and Dibbs had surveyed the
+passage in the Barrier Reef when serving on another ship, and he had
+neglected instructions and wrongly and carelessly interpreted the chart.
+And Dibbs had held his tongue.
+
+One evening Laura Harman said to Captain Dibbs: "Which would you rather
+be--Admiral of the Fleet or my husband?"  Her hand was on his arm at the
+time.
+
+He looked up at her proudly, and laughed slyly.  "I mean to be both, dear
+girl."
+
+"You have an incurable ambition," she said.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A LITTLE MASQUERADE
+
+"Oh, nothing matters," she said, with a soft, ironical smile, as she
+tossed a bit of sugar to the cockatoo.
+
+"Quite so," was his reply, and he carefully gathered in a loose leaf of
+his cigar.  Then, after a pause: "And yet, why so?  It's a very pretty
+world one way and another."
+
+"Yes, it's a pretty world at times."
+
+At that moment they were both looking out over a part of the world known
+as the Nindobar Plains, and it was handsome to the eye.  As far as could
+be seen was a carpet of flowers under a soft sunset.  The homestead by
+which they sat was in a wilderness of blossoms.  To the left was a high
+rose-coloured hill, solemn and mysterious; to the right--afar off--
+a forest of gum-trees, pink and purple against the horizon.  At their
+feet, beyond the veranda, was a garden joyously brilliant, and bright-
+plumaged birds flitted here and there.
+
+The two looked out for a long time, then, as if by a mutual impulse,
+suddenly turned their eyes on each other.  They smiled, and, somehow,
+that smile was not delightful to see.  The girl said presently: "It is
+all on the surface."
+
+Jack Sherman gave a little click of the tongue peculiar to him, and said:
+"You mean that the beautiful birds have dreadful voices; that the flowers
+are scentless; that the leaves of the trees are all on edge and give no
+shade; that where that beautiful carpet of blossoms is there was a
+blazing quartz plain six months ago, and there's likely to be the same
+again; that, in brief, it's pretty, but hollow."  He made a slight
+fantastic gesture, as though mocking himself for so long a speech, and
+added: "Really, I didn't prepare this little oration."
+
+She nodded, and then said: "Oh, it's not so hollow,--you would not call
+it that exactly, but it's unsatisfactory."
+
+"You have lost your illusions."
+
+"And before that occurred you had lost yours."
+
+"Do I betray it, then?"  He laughed, not at all bitterly, yet not with
+cheerfulness.
+
+"And do you think that you have such acuteness, then, and I--"  Nellie
+Hayden paused, raised her eyebrows a little coldly, and let the cockatoo
+bite her finger.
+
+"I did not mean to be egotistical.  The fact is I live my life alone, and
+I was interested for the moment to know how I appeared to others.  You
+and I have been tolerably candid with each other since we met, for the
+first time, three days ago; I knew you would not hesitate to say what was
+in your mind, and I asked out of honest curiosity.  One fancies one hides
+one's self, and yet--you see!"
+
+"Do you find it pleasant, then, to be candid and free with some one?....
+Why with me?"  She looked him frankly in the eyes.
+
+"Well, to be more candid.  You and I know the world very well, I fancy.
+You were educated in Europe, travelled, enjoyed--and suffered."  The girl
+did not even blink, but went on looking at him steadily.  "We have both
+had our hour with the world; have learned many sides of the game.  We
+haven't come out of it without scars of one kind or another.  Knowledge
+of the kind is expensive."
+
+"You wanted to say all that to me the first evening we met, didn't you?"
+There was a smile of gentle amusement on her face.
+
+"I did.  From the moment I saw you I knew that we could say many things
+to each other 'without pre liminaries.'  To be able to do that is a great
+deal."
+
+"It is a relief to say things, isn't it?"
+
+"It is better than writing them, though that is pleasant, after its
+kind."
+
+"I have never tried writing--as we talk.  There's a good deal of vanity
+at the bottom of it though, I believe."
+
+"Of course.  But vanity is a kind of virtue, too."  He leaned over
+towards her, dropping his arms on his knees and holding her look.
+"I am very glad that I met you.  I intended only staying here over night,
+but--"
+
+"But I interested you in a way--you see, I am vain enough to think that.
+Well, you also interested me, and I urged my aunt to press you to stay.
+It has been very pleasant, and when you go it will be very humdrum again;
+our conversation, mustering, rounding-up, bullocks, and rabbits.  That,
+of course, is engrossing in a way, but not for long at a time."
+
+He did not stir, but went on looking at her.  "Yes, I believe it has been
+pleasant for you, else it had not been so pleasant for me.  Honestly, I
+don't believe I shall ever get you out of my mind."
+
+"That is either slightly rude or badly expressed," she said.  "Do you
+wish, then, to get me out of your mind?"
+
+"No, no----  You are very keen.  I wish to remember you always.  But what
+I felt at the moment was this.  There are memories which are always
+passive and delightful.  We have no wish to live the scenes of which they
+are over again, the reflection is enough.  There are others which cause
+us to wish the scenes back again, with a kind of hunger; and yet they
+won't or can't come back.  I wondered of what class this memory would
+be."
+
+The girl flushed ever so slightly, and her fingers clasped a little
+nervously, but she was calm.  Her voice was even; it had, indeed, a
+little thrilling ring of energy.  "You are wonderfully daring," she
+replied, "to say that to me.  To a school-girl it might mean so much: to
+me--!"  She shook her head at him reprovingly.
+
+He was not in the least piqued.  "I was absolutely honest in that.
+I said nothing but what I felt.  I would give very much to feel confident
+one way or the other--forgive me, for what seems incredible egotism.  If
+I were five years younger I should have said instantly that the memory
+would be one--"
+
+"Which would disturb you, make you restless, cause you to neglect your
+work, fill you with regret; and yet all too late--isn't that it?"  She
+laughed lightly and gave a lump of sugar to the cockatoo.
+
+"You read me accurately.  But why touch your words with satire?"
+
+"I believe I read you better than you read me.  I didn't mean to be
+satirical.  Don't you know that what often seems irony directed towards
+others is in reality dealt out to ourselves?  Such irony as was in my
+voice was for myself."
+
+"And why for yourself?" he asked quietly, his eyes full of interest.
+He was cutting the end of a fresh cigar.  "Was it"--he was about to
+strike a match, but paused suddenly--"was it because you had thought the
+same thing?"
+
+She looked for a moment as though she would read him through and through;
+as though, in spite of all their candour, there was some lingering
+uncertainty as to his perfect straightforwardness; then, as if satisfied,
+she said at last: "Yes, but with a difference.  I have no doubt which
+memory it will be.  You will not wish to be again on the plains of
+Nindobar."
+
+"And you," he said musingly, "you will not wish me here?"  There was no
+real vanity in the question.  He was wondering how little we can be sure
+of what we shall feel to-morrow from what we feel to-day.  Besides, he
+knew that a wise woman is wiser than a wise man.
+
+"I really don't think I shall care particularly.  Probably, if we met
+again here, there would be some jar to our comradeship--I may call it
+that, I suppose?"
+
+"Which is equivalent to saying that good-bye in most cases, and always in
+cases such as ours, is a, little tragical, because we can never meet
+quite the same again."
+
+She bowed her head, but did not reply.  Presently she glanced up at him
+kindly.  "What would you give to have back the past you had before you
+lost your illusions, before you had--trouble?"
+
+"I do not want it back.  I am not really disillusionised.  I think that
+we should not make our own personal experience a law unto the world.  I
+believe in the world in spite--of trouble.  You might have said trouble
+with a woman--I should not have minded."  He was smoking now, and the
+clouds twisted about his face so that only his eyes looked through
+earnestly.  "A woman always makes laws from her personal experience.  She
+has not the faculty of generalisation--I fancy that's the word to use."
+
+She rose now with a little shaking motion, one hand at her belt, and
+rested a shoulder against a pillar of the veranda.  He rose also at once,
+and said, touching her hand respectfully with his finger tips: "We may be
+sorry one day that we did not believe in ourselves more."
+
+"Oh, no," she said, turning and smiling at him, "I think not.  You will
+be in England hard at work, I here hard at living; our interests will lie
+far apart.  I am certain about it all.  We might have been what my cousin
+calls 'trusty pals'--no more."
+
+"I wish to God I felt sure of that."
+
+She held out her hand to him.  "I believe you are honest in this.
+I expect both of us have played hide-and-seek with sentiment in our time;
+but it would be useless for us to masquerade with each other: we are of
+the world, very worldly."
+
+"Quite useless--here comes your cousin!  I hope I don't look as agitated
+as I feel."
+
+"You look perfectly cool, and I know I do.  What an art this living is!
+My cousin comes about the boarhunt to-morrow."
+
+"Shall you join us?"
+
+"Of course.  I can handle a rifle.  Besides, it is your last day here."
+
+"Who can tell what to-morrow may bring forth?" he said.
+
+                    ........................
+
+The next day the boar-hunt occurred.  They rode several miles to a little
+lake and a scrub of brigalow, and, dismounting, soon had exciting sport.
+Nellie was a capital shot, and, without loss of any womanliness, was a
+thorough sportsman.  To-day, however, there was something on her mind,
+and she was not as alert and successful as usual.  Sherman kept with her
+as much as possible--the more so because he saw that her cousins,
+believing she was quite well able to take care of herself, gave her to
+her own resources.  Presently, however, following an animal, he left her
+a distance behind.
+
+On the edge of a little billabong she came upon a truculent boar.  It
+turned on her, but she fired, and it fell.  Seeing another ahead, she
+pushed on quickly to secure it, too.  As she went she half-cocked her
+rifle.  Had her mind been absolutely intent on the sport, she had full
+cocked it.  All at once she heard the thud of feet behind her.  She
+turned swiftly, and saw the boar she had shot bearing upon her, its long
+yellow tusks standing up like daggers.  A sweeping thrust from one of
+them leaves little chance of life.
+
+She dropped upon a knee, swung her rifle to her shoulder, and pulled the
+trigger.  The rifle did not go off.  For an instant she did not grasp the
+trouble.  With singular presence of mind, however, she neither lowered
+her rifle nor took her eye from the beast; she remained immovable.  It
+was all a matter of seconds.  Evidently cowed, the animal, when within a
+few feet of her, swerved to the right, then made as though to come down
+on her again.  But, meanwhile, she had discovered her mistake, and cocked
+her rifle.  She swiftly trained it on the boar, and fired.  It was hit,
+but did not fall; and came on.  Then another shot rang out from behind
+her, and the boar fell so near her that its tusk caught her dress.
+
+Jack Sherman had saved her.
+
+She was very white when she faced him.  She could not speak.  That night,
+however, she spoke very gratefully and almost tenderly.
+
+To something that he said gently to her then about a memory, she replied:
+"Tell me now as candidly as if to your own soul, did you feel at the
+critical moment that life would be horrible and empty without me?"
+
+"I thought only of saving you," he said honestly.
+
+"Then I was quite right; you will never have any regret," she said.
+
+"I wonder, ah, I wonder!" he added sorrowfully.  But the girl was sure.
+
+The regret was hers; though he never knew that.  It is a lonely life on
+the dry plains of Nindobar.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+DERELICT
+
+He was very drunk; and because of that Victoria Lindley, barmaid at
+O'Fallen's, was angry--not at him but at O'Fallen, who had given him the
+liquor.
+
+She knew more about him than any one else.  The first time she saw him he
+was not sober.  She had left the bar-room empty; and when she came back
+he was there with others who had dropped in, evidently attracted by his
+unusual appearance--he wore an eyeglass--and he had been saying something
+whimsically audacious to Dicky Merritt, who, slapping him on the
+shoulder, had asked him to have a swizzle.
+
+Dicky Merritt had a ripe sense of humour, and he was the first to grin.
+This was followed by loud laughs from others, and these laughs went out
+where the dust lay a foot thick and soft like precipitated velvet, and
+hurrying over the street, waked the Postmaster and roused the Little
+Milliner, who at once came to their doors.  Catching sight of each other,
+they nodded, and blushed, and nodded again; and then the Postmaster,
+neglecting the business of the country, went upon his own business into
+the private sitting-room of the Little Milliner; for those wandering
+laughs from O'Fallen's had done the work set for them by the high powers.
+
+Over in the hot bar-room the man with the eye-glass was being frankly
+"intr'juced" to Dicky Merritt and Company, Limited, by Victoria Lindley,
+who, as hostess of this saloon, was, in his eyes, on a footing of
+acquaintance.  To her he raised his hat with accentuated form, and
+murmured his name--"Mr. Jones--Mr. Jones."  Forthwith, that there might
+be no possible unpleasantness--for even such hostesses have their duties
+of tact--she politely introduced him as Mr. Jones.
+
+He had been a man of innumerable occupations--nothing long: caretaker
+of tanks, rabbit-trapper, boundary-rider, cook at a shearers' camp, and,
+in due time, he became book-keeper at O'Fallen's.  That was due to Vic.
+Mr. Jones wrote a very fine hand--not in the least like a business man--
+when he was moderately sober, and he also had an exceedingly caustic wit
+when he chose to use it.  He used it once upon O'Fallen, who was a rough,
+mannerless creature, with a good enough heart, but easily irritated by
+the man with the eye-glass, whose superior intellect and manner, even
+when drunk, were too noticeable.  He would never have employed him were
+it not for Vic, who was worth very much money to him in the course of the
+year.  She was the most important person within a radius of a hundred and
+fifty miles, not excepting Rembrandt, the owner of Bomba Station, which
+was twenty miles square, nor the parson at Magari, ninety miles south, by
+the Ring-Tail Billabong.  For both Rembrandt and the parson had, and
+showed, a respect for her, which might appear startling were it seen in
+Berkeley Square or the Strand.
+
+When, therefore, O'Fallen came raging into the barroom one morning, with
+the gentle remark that "he'd roast the tongue of her fancy gent if he
+didn't get up and git," he did a foolish thing.  It was the first time
+that he had insulted Victoria, and it was the last.  She came out white
+and quiet from behind the bar-counter, and, as he retreated from her into
+a corner, said: "There is not a man who drinks over this bar, or puts
+his horse into your shed, who wouldn't give you the lie to that and
+thrash you as well--you coward!"  Her words came on low and steady: "Mr.
+Jones will go now, of course, but I shall go also."
+
+This awed O'Fallen.  To lose Vic was to lose the reputation of his house.
+He instantly repented, but she turned her shoulder on him, and went into
+the little hot office, where the book-keeper was, leaving him
+gesticulating as he swore at himself in the glass behind the bar.  When
+she entered the room she found Mr. Jones sitting rigid on his stool,
+looking at the open ledger before him.  She spoke his name.  He nodded
+ever so slightly, but still looked hard at the book.  She knew his
+history.  Once he had told it to her.  It happened one day when he had
+resigned his position as boundary-rider, in which he was practically
+useless.  He had been drinking, and, as he felt for the string of his
+eye-glass, his fingers caught another thin black cord which protruded
+slightly from his vest.  He drew it out by mistake, and a small gold
+cross shone for a moment against the faded black coat.  His fingers felt
+for it to lift it to his eye as though it were his eye-glass, but dropped
+it suddenly.  He turned pale for a minute, then caught it as suddenly
+again, and thrust it into his waistcoat.  But Vic had seen, and she had
+very calm, intelligent eyes, and a vast deal of common sense, though she
+had only come from out Tibbooburra way.  She kept her eyes on him kindly,
+knowing that he would speak in time.  They were alone, for most of the
+people of Wadgery were away at a picnic.  There is always one moment when
+a man who has a secret, good or bad, fatal or otherwise, feels that he
+must tell it or die.  And Mr. Jones told Vic, and she said what she
+could, though she knew that a grasp of her firm hands was better than any
+words; and she was equally sure in her own mind that word and grasp would
+be of no avail in the end.
+
+She saw that the beginning of the end had come as she looked at him
+staring at the ledger, yet exactly why she could not tell.  She knew that
+he had been making a fight since he had been book-keeper, and that now he
+felt that he had lost.  She guessed also that he had heard what O'Fallen
+said to her, and what she had replied.
+
+"You ought not to have offended him," she tried to say severely.
+
+"It had to come," he said with a dry, crackling laugh, and he fastened
+his eye-glass in his eye.  "I wasn't made for this.  I could only do one
+thing, and--"  He laughed that peculiar laugh again, got down from the
+stool, and held out his hand to her.
+
+"What do you intend?" she said.  "I'm going, of course.  Good-bye!"
+"But not at once?" she said very kindly.
+
+"Perhaps not just at once," he answered with a strange smile.
+
+She did not know what to say or do; there are puzzling moments even for a
+wise woman, and there is nothing wiser than that.
+
+He turned at the door.  "God bless you!" he said.  Then, as if caught in
+an act to be atoned for, he hurried out into the street.  From the door
+she watched him till the curtains of dust rose up about him and hid him
+from sight.  When he came back to Wadgery months after he was a terrible
+wreck; so much so that Vic could hardly look at him at first; and she
+wished that she had left O'Fallen's as she threatened, and so have no
+need to furnish any man swizzles.  She knew he would never pull himself
+together now.  It was very weak of him, and horrible, but then .  .  .
+When that thirst gets into the blood, and there's something behind the
+man's life too--as Dicky Merritt said, "It's a case for the little black
+angels."
+
+Vic would not give him liquor.  He got it, however, from other sources.
+He was too far gone to feel any shame now.  His sensibilities were all
+blunted.  One day he babbled over the bar-counter to O'Fallen, desiring
+greatly that they should be reconciled.  To that end he put down the last
+shilling he had for a swizzle, and was so outrageously offended when
+O'Fallen refused to take it, that the silver was immediately swept into
+the till; and very soon, with his eye-glass to his eye, Mr. Jones was
+drunk.
+
+That was the occasion mentioned in the first sentence of this history,
+when Vic was very angry.
+
+The bar-room was full.  Men were wondering why it was that the Postmaster
+and the Little Milliner, who went to Magari ten days before, to get
+married by the parson there, had not returned.  While they talked and
+speculated, the weekly coach from Magari came up slowly to the door, and,
+strange to say, without a blast from the driver's horn.  Dicky Merritt
+and Company rushed out to ask news of the two truants, and were met with
+a warning wave of the driver's hand, and a "Sh-h!  sh--!" as he motioned
+towards the inside of the coach.  There they found the Postmaster and the
+Little Milliner mere skeletons, and just alive.  They were being cared
+for by a bushman, who had found them in the plains, delirious and nearly
+naked.  They had got lost, there being no regular road over the plains,
+and their horse, which they had not tethered properly, had gone large.
+They had been days without food and water when they were found near the
+coach-track.
+
+They were carried into O'Fallen's big sitting-room.  Dicky brought the
+doctor, who said that they both would die, and soon.  Hours passed.  The
+sufferers at last became sane and conscious, as though they could not go
+without something being done.  The Postmaster lifted a hand to his
+pocket.  Dicky Merritt took out of it a paper.  It was the marriage
+licence.  The Little Milliner's eyes were painful to see; she was not
+dying happy.  The Postmaster, too, moved his head from side to side in
+trouble.  He reached over and took her hand.  She drew it back,
+shuddering a little.  "The ring!  The ring!" she whispered.
+
+"It is lost," he said.
+
+Vic, who was at the woman's head, understood.  She stooped, said
+something in her ear, then in that of the Postmaster, and left the room.
+When she came back, two minutes later, Mr. Jones was with her.  What she
+had done to him to sober him no one ever knew.  But he had a book in his
+hand, and on the dingy black of his waistcoat there shone a little gold
+cross.  He came to where the two lay.  Vic drew from her finger a ring.
+What then occurred was never forgotten by any who saw it; and you could
+feel the stillness, it was so great, after a high, sing-song voice said:
+"Those whom God hath joined let no man put asunder."
+
+The two lying cheek by cheek knew now that they could die in peace.
+
+The sing-song voice rose again in the ceremony of blessing, but suddenly
+it quavered and broke, the man rose, dropping the prayer-book to the
+floor, and ran quickly out of the room and into the dust of the street,
+and on, on into the plains.
+
+"In the name of God, who is he?" said Dicky Merritt to Victoria Lindley.
+
+"He was the Reverend Jones Leverton, of Harfordon-Thames," was her reply.
+
+"Once a priest, always a priest," added Dicky.  "He'll never come back,"
+said the girl, tears dropping from her eyes.
+
+And she was right.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+OLD ROSES
+
+It was a barren country, and Wadgery was generally shrivelled with heat,
+but he always had roses in his garden, on his window-sill, or in his
+button-hole.  Growing flowers under difficulties was his recreation.
+That was why he was called Old Roses.  It was not otherwise inapt, for
+there was something antique about him, though he wasn't old; a flavour,
+an old-fashioned repose and self-possession.  He was Inspector of Tanks
+for this God-forsaken country.  Apart from his duties he kept mostly to
+himself, though when not travelling he always went down to O'Fallen's
+Hotel once a day for a glass of whisky and water--whisky kept especially
+for him; and as he drank this slowly he talked to Victoria Lindley the
+barmaid, or to any chance visitors whom he knew.  He never drank with any
+one, nor asked any one to drink; and, strange to say, no one resented
+this.  As Vic said: "He was different."  Dicky Merritt, the solicitor,
+who was hail-fellow with squatter, homestead lessee, cockatoo-farmer, and
+shearer, called him "a lively old buffer."  It was he, indeed, who gave
+him the name of Old Roses.  Dicky sometimes went over to Long Neck
+Billabong, where Old Roses lived, for a reel, as he put it, and he always
+carried away a deep impression of the Inspector's qualities.
+
+"Had his day," said Dicky in O'Fallen's sitting-room one night, "in
+marble halls, or I'm a Jack.  Run neck and neck with almighty swells
+once.  Might live here for a thousand years and he'd still be the
+nonesuch of the back-blocks.  I'd patent him--file my caveat for him
+to-morrow, if I could, bully Old Roses!"
+
+Victoria Lindley, the barmaid, lifted her chin slightly from her hands,
+as she leaned through the opening between the bar and the sitting-room,
+and said: "Mr. Merritt, Old Roses is a gentleman; and a gentleman is a
+gentleman till he--"
+
+"Till he humps his bluey into the Never Never Land, Vic?  But what do you
+know about gentlemen, anyway?  You were born only five miles from the
+jumping-off place, my dear."
+
+"Oh," was the quiet reply, "a woman--the commonest woman--knows a
+gentleman by instinct.  It isn't what they do, it's what they don't do;
+and Old Roses doesn't do lots of things."
+
+"Right you are, Victoria, right you are again!  You do Tibbooburra
+credit.  Old Roses has the root of the matter in him--and there you
+have it."
+
+Dicky had a profound admiration for Vic.  She had brains, was perfectly
+fearless, no man had ever taken a liberty with her, and every one in the
+Wadgery country who visited O'Fallen's had a wholesome respect for her
+opinion.
+
+About this time news came that the Governor, Lord Malice, would pass
+through Wadgery on his tour up the back-blocks.  A great function was
+necessary.  It was arranged.  Then came the question of the address of
+welcome to be delivered at the banquet.  Dicky Merritt and the local
+doctor were named for the task, but they both declared they'd only "make
+rot of it," and suggested Old Roses.
+
+They went to lay the thing before him.  They found him in his garden.  He
+greeted them, smiling in his quiet, enigmatical way, and listened.  While
+Dicky spoke, a flush slowly passed over him, and then immediately left
+him pale; but he stood perfectly still, his hand leaning against a sandal
+tree, and the coldness of his face warmed up again slowly.  His head
+having been bent attentively as he listened, they did not see anything
+unusual.
+
+After a moment of inscrutable deliberation, he answered that he would do
+as they wished.  Dicky hinted that he would require some information
+about Lord Malice's past career and his family's history, but he assured
+them that he did not need it; and his eyes idled ironically with Dicky's
+face.
+
+When the two had gone, Old Roses sat in his room, a handful of letters,
+a photograph, and a couple of decorations spread out before him, his
+fingers resting on them, his look engaged with a far horizon.
+
+The Governor came.  He was met outside the township by the citizens and
+escorted in--a dusty and numerous cavalcade.  They passed the Inspector's
+house.  The garden was blooming, and on the roof a flag was flying.
+Struck by the singular character of the place Lord Malice asked who lived
+there, and proposed stopping for a moment to make the acquaintance of its
+owner; adding, with some slight sarcasm, that if the officers of the
+Government were too busy to pay their respects to their Governor, their
+Governor must pay his respects to them.  But Old Roses was not in the
+garden nor in the house, and they left without seeing him.  He was
+sitting under a willow at the billabong, reading over and over to himself
+the address to be delivered before the Governor in the evening.  As he
+read his face had a wintry and inhospitable look.
+
+The night came.  Old Roses entered the dining-room quietly with the
+crowd, far in the Governor's wake.  According to his request, he was
+given a seat in a distant corner, where he was quite inconspicuous.  Most
+of the men present were in evening dress.  He wore a plain tweed suit,
+but carried a handsome rose in his button-hole.  It was impossible to put
+him at a disadvantage.  He looked distinguished as he was.  He appeared
+to be much interested in Lord Malice.  The early proceedings were
+cordial, for the Governor and his suite made themselves agreeable, and
+talk flowed amiably.  After a time there was a rattle of knives and
+forks, and the Chairman rose.  Then, after a chorus of "hear, hears,"
+there was general silence.  The doorways of the room were filled by the
+women-servants of the hotel.  Chief among them was Vic, who kept her eyes
+fixed on Old Roses.  She knew that he was to read the address and speak,
+and she was more interested in him and in his success than in Lord Malice
+and his suite.  Her admiration of him was great.  He had always treated
+her as though she had been born a lady, and it had done her good.
+
+"And I call upon Mr. Adam Sherwood to speak to the health of His
+Excellency, Lord Malice."
+
+In his modest corner Old Roses stretched to his feet.  The Governor
+glanced over carelessly.  He only saw a figure in grey, with a rose in
+his button-hole.  The Chairman whispered that it was the owner of the
+house and garden which had interested His Excellency that afternoon.
+His Excellency looked a little closer, but saw only a rim of iron-grey
+hair above the paper held before Old Roses' face.
+
+Then a voice came from behind the paper: "Your Excellency--"
+
+At the first words the Governor started, and his eyes flashed
+searchingly, curiously at the paper that walled the face, and at the
+iron-grey hair.  The voice rose distinct and clear, with modulated
+emphasis.  It had a peculiarly penetrating quality.  A few in the room
+--and particularly Vic--were struck by something in the voice: that it
+resembled another voice.  She soon found the trail.  Her eyes also
+fastened on the paper.  Then she moved and went to another door.  Here
+she could see behind the paper at an angle.  Her eyes ran from the
+screened face to that of the Governor.  His Excellency had dropped the
+lower part of his face in his hand, and he was listening intently.  Vic
+noticed that his eyes were painfully grave and concerned.  She also
+noticed other things.
+
+The address was strange.  It had been submitted to the Committee, and
+though it struck them as out-of the-wayish, it had been approved.  It
+seemed different when read as Old Roses was reading it.  The words
+sounded inclement as they were chiselled out by the speaker's voice.
+Dicky Merritt afterwards declared that many phrases were interpolated
+by Old Roses at the moment.
+
+The speaker referred intimately and with peculiar knowledge to the family
+history of Lord Malice, to certain more or less private matters which did
+not concern the public, to the antiquity of the name, and the high duty
+devolving upon one who bore the Earldom of Malice.  He dwelt upon the
+personal character of His Excellency's antecedents, and praised their
+honourable services to the country.  He referred to the death of Lord
+Malice's eldest brother in Burmah, but he did it strangely.  Then, with
+acute incisiveness, he drew a picture of what a person in so exalted a
+position as a Governor should be and should not be.  His voice assuredly
+at this point had a touch of scorn.  The aides-de-camp were nervous, the
+Chairman apprehensive, the Committee ill at ease.  But the Governor now
+was perfectly still, though, as Vic Lindley thought, rather pinched and
+old-looking.  His fingers toyed with a wine-glass, but his eyes never
+wavered from that paper and the grey hair.
+
+Presently the voice of the speaker changed.
+
+"But," said he, "in Lord Malice we have--the perfect Governor; a man of
+blameless and enviable life, and possessed abundantly of discreetness,
+judgment, administrative ability and power; the absolute type of English
+nobility and British character."
+
+He dropped the paper from before his face, and his eyes met those of the
+Governor, and stayed.  Lord Malice let go a long choking breath, which
+sounded like immeasurable relief.  During the rest of the speech--
+delivered in a fine-tempered voice--he sat as in a dream, his eyes
+intently upon the other, who now seemed to recite rather than read.  He
+thrilled all by the pleasant resonance of his tones, and sent the blood
+aching delightfully through Victoria Lindley's veins.
+
+When he sat down there was immense applause.  The Governor rose in reply.
+He spoke in a low voice, but any one listening outside would have said
+that Old Roses was still speaking.  By this resemblance the girl, Vic,
+had trailed to others.  It was now apparent to many, but Dicky said
+afterwards that it was simply a case of birth and breeding--men used to
+walking red carpet grew alike, just as stud-owners and rabbit-catchers
+did.
+
+The last words of the Governor's reply were delivered in a convincing
+tone as his eyes hung on Old Roses' face.
+
+"And, as I am indebted to you, gentlemen, for the feelings of loyalty to
+the Throne which prompted this reception and the address just delivered,
+so I am indebted to Mr.--Adam Sherwood for his admirable words and the
+unusual sincerity and eloquence of his speech; and to both you and him
+for most notable kindness."
+
+Immediately after the Governor's speech Old Roses stole out; but as he
+passed through the door where Vic stood, his hand brushed against hers.
+Feeling its touch, he grasped it eagerly for an instant as though he were
+glad of the friendliness in her eyes.
+
+It was just before dawn of the morning that the Governor knocked at the
+door of the house by Long Neck Billabong.  The door opened at once, and
+he entered without a word.
+
+He and Old Roses stood face to face.  His countenance was drawn and worn,
+the other's cold and calm.  "Tom, Tom," Lord Malice said, "we thought you
+were dead--"
+
+"That is, Edward, having left me to my fate in Burmah--you were only half
+a mile away with a column of stout soldiers and hillmen--you waited till
+my death was reported, and seemed assured, and then came on to England:
+to take the title, just vacant by our father's death, and to marry
+my intended wife, who, God knows, appeared to have little care which
+brother it was!  You got both.  I was long a prisoner.  When I got free,
+I learned all; I bided my time.  I was waiting till you had a child.
+Twelve years have gone: you have no child.  But I shall spare you awhile
+longer.  If your wife should die, or you should yet have a child, I shall
+return."
+
+The Governor lifted his head wearily from the table where he now sat.
+"Tom," he said in a low, heavy voice, "I was always something of a
+scoundrel, but I've repented of that thing every day of my life since.
+It has been knives--knives all the way.  I am glad--I can't tell you how
+glad--that you are alive."
+
+He stretched out his hand with a motion of great relief.  "I was afraid
+you were going to speak to-night--to tell all, even though I was your
+brother.  You spared me for the sake--"
+
+"For the sake of the family name," the other interjected stonily.
+
+"For the sake of our name.  But I would have taken my punishment, in
+thankfulness, because you are alive."
+
+"Taken it like a man, your Excellency," was the low rejoinder.  He
+laughed bitterly.
+
+"You will not wipe the thing out, Tom?  You will not wipe it out, and
+come back, and take your own--now?" said the other anxiously.
+
+The other dried the perspiration from his forehead.  "I will come back in
+my own time; and it can never be wiped out.  For you shook all my faith
+in my old world.  That's the worst thing that can happen a man.  I only
+believe in the very common people now--those who are not put upon their
+honour.  One doesn't expect it of them, and, unlikely as it is, one isn't
+often deceived.  I think we'd better talk no more about it."
+
+"You mean I had better go."
+
+"I think so.  I am going to marry soon."  The other started nervously.
+
+"You needn't be so shocked.  I will come back one day, but not till your
+wife dies, or you have a child, as I said."
+
+The Governor rose to his feet, and went to the door.  "Whom do you intend
+marrying?" he asked in a voice far from vice-regal, only humbled and
+disturbed.  The reply was instant and keen: "A bar-maid."
+
+The other's hand dropped from the door.  But Old Roses, passing over,
+opened it, and, waiting for the other to pass through, said: "I do not
+doubt but there will be issue.  Good-day, my lord!"
+
+The Governor passed out from the pale light of the lamp into the grey and
+moist morning.  He turned at a point where the house would be lost to
+view, and saw the other still standing there.  The voice of Old Roses
+kept ringing in his ears sardonically.  He knew that his punishment must
+go on and on; and it did.
+
+Old Roses married Victoria Lindley from "out Tibbooburra way," and there
+was comely issue, and that issue is now at Eton; for Esau came into his
+birthright, as he said he would, at his own time.  But he and his wife
+have a way of being indifferent to the gay, astonished world; and,
+uncommon as it may seem, he has not tired of her.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MY WIFE'S LOVERS
+
+There were three of them in 1886, the big drought year: old Eversofar,
+Billy Marshall, and Bingong.  I never was very jealous of them, not even
+when Billy gave undoubted ground for divorce by kissing her boldly in the
+front garden, with Eversofar and Bingong looking on--to say nothing of
+myself.  So far as public opinion went it could not matter, because we
+were all living at Tilbar Station in the Tibbooburra country, and the
+nearest neighbour to us was Mulholland of Nimgi, a hundred miles away.
+Billy was the son of my manager, John Marshall, and, like his father,
+had an excellent reputation as a bushman, and, like his mother, was very
+good-looking.  He was very much indeed about my house, suggesting
+improvements in household arrangements; making remarks on my wife's
+personal appearance--with corresponding disparagement of myself; riding
+with my wife across the plains; shooting kangaroos with her by night; and
+secretly instructing her in the mysteries of a rabbit-trap, with which,
+he was sure, he could make "dead loads of metal" (he was proficient in
+the argot of the back-blocks); and with this he would buy her a beautiful
+diamond ring, and a horse that had won the Melbourne Cup, and an air-gun!
+Once when she was taken ill, and I was away in the South, he used to sit
+by her bedside, fanning her hour after hour, being scarcely willing to
+sleep at night; and was always on hand, smoothing her pillow, and issuing
+a bulletin to Eversofar and Bingong the first thing in the morning.
+I have no doubt that Eversofar and Bingong cared for her just as much as
+he did; but, from first to last, they never had his privileges, and were
+always subordinate to him in showing her devotion.  He was sound and
+frank with them.  He told Eversofar that, of course, she only was kind to
+him, and let him have a hut all to himself, because he was old and had
+had a bad time out on the farthest back-station (that was why he was
+called Eversofar), and had once carried Bingong with a broken leg, on his
+back, for twenty miles.  As for Bingong, he was only a black fellow, aged
+fifteen, and height inconsiderable.  So, of the three, Billy had his own
+way, and even shamelessly attempted to lord it over me.
+
+Most husbands would consider my position painful, particularly when
+I say that my wife accepted the attention of all three lovers with calm
+pleasure, and that of Billy with a shocking indifference to my feelings.
+She never tried to explain away any circumstance, no matter how awkward
+it might look if put down in black and white.  Billy never quailed before
+my look; he faced me down with his ingenuous smile; he patted me on the
+arms approvingly; or, with apparent malice, asked me questions difficult
+to answer, when I came back from a journey to Brisbane--for a man
+naturally finds it hard to lay bare how he spent all his time in town.
+Because he did it so suavely and naively, one could not be resentful.  It
+might seem that matters had reached a climax, when, one day, Mulholland
+came over, and, seeing my wife and her lovers together watering the
+garden and teaching cockatoos, said to me that Billy had the advantage of
+me on my own ground.  It may not be to my credit that I only grinned, and
+forbore even looking foolish.  Yet I was very fond of my wife all the
+time.  We stood pretty high on the Charwon Downs, and though it was
+terribly hot at times, it was healthy enough; and she never lost her
+prettiness, though, maybe, she lacked bloom.
+
+I think I never saw her look better than she did that day when Mulholland
+was with me.  She had on the lightest, softest kind of stuff, with
+sleeves reaching only a little below her elbow--her hands and arms never
+got sunburnt in the hottest weather--her face smiled out from under the
+coolest-looking hat imaginable, and her hair, though gathered, had a
+happy trick of always lying very loose and free about the head, saving
+her from any primness otherwise possible, she was so neat.  Mulholland
+and I were sitting in the veranda.  I glanced up at the thermometer, and
+it registered a hundred in the shade!  Mechanically I pushed the lime-
+juice towards Mulholland, and pointed to the water-bag.  There was
+nothing else to do except grumble at the drought.  Yet there my wife was,
+a picture of coolness and delight; the intense heat seemed only to make
+her the more refreshing to the eye.  Water was not abundant, but we still
+felt justified in trying to keep her bushes and flowers alive; and she
+stood there holding the hose and throwing the water in the cheerfulest
+shower upon the beds.  Billy stood with his hands on his hips watching
+her, very hot, very self-contained.  He was shining with perspiration;
+and he looked the better of it.  Eversofar was camped beneath a sandal-
+tree teaching a cockatoo, also hot and panting, but laughing low through
+his white beard; and Bingong, black, hatless--less everything but a pair
+of trousers which only reached to his knees--was dividing his time
+between the cockatoo and my wife.
+
+Presently Bingong sighted an iguana and caught it, and the three gathered
+about it in the shade of the sandal.  After a time the interest in the
+iguana seemed to have shifted to something else; and they were all
+speaking very earnestly.  At last I saw Billy and my wife only talking.
+Billy was excited, and apparently indignant.  I could not hear what they
+were saying, but I saw he was pale, and his compatriots in worship rather
+frightened; for he suddenly got into a lofty rage.  It was undoubtedly a
+quarrel.  Mulholland saw, too, and said to me: "This looks as if there
+would be a chance for you yet."  He laughed.  So did I.
+
+Soon I saw by my wife's face that she was saying something sarcastical.
+Then Billy drew himself up very proudly, and waving his hand in a grand
+way, said loudly, so that we could hear: "It's as true as gospel; and
+you'll be sorry for this-like anything and anything!"  Then he stalked
+away from her, raising his hat proudly, but immediately turned, and
+beckoning to Eversofar and Bingong added: "Come on with me to barracks,
+you two."
+
+They started away towards him, looking sheepishly at my wife as they did
+so; but Billy finding occasion to give counter-orders, said: "But you
+needn't come until you put the cockatoos away, and stuck the iguana in
+a barrel, and put the hose up for--for her."
+
+He watched them obey his orders, his head in the air the while, and when
+they had finished, and were come towards him, he again took off his hat,
+and they all left her standing alone in the garden.
+
+Then she laughed a little oddly to herself, and stood picking to pieces
+the wet leaves of a geranium, looking after the three.  After a little
+she came slowly over to us.  "Well," said I, feigning great irony, "all
+loves must have their day, both old and new.  You see how they've
+deserted you.  Yet you smile at it!"
+
+"Indeed, my lord and master," she said, "it is not a thing to laugh at.
+It's very serious."
+
+"And what has broken the charm of your companionship?" I asked.
+
+"The mere matter of the fabled Bunyip.  He claimed that he had seen it,
+and I doubted his word.  Had it been you it would not have mattered.  You
+would have turned the other cheek, you are so tame.  But he has fire and
+soul, and so we quarrelled."
+
+"And your other lovers turned tail," I maliciously, said.
+
+"Which only shows how superior he is," was her reply.  "If you had been
+in the case they would never have left me."
+
+"Oh, oh!" blurted Mulholland, "I am better out of this; for I little
+care to be called as a witness in divorce."  He rose from his chair, but
+I pushed him back, and he did not leave till "the cool of the evening."
+
+The next morning, at breakfast-time, a rouseabout brought us a piece of
+paper which had been nailed to the sandal-tree.  On it was written:
+
+"We have gone for the Bunyip.  We travel on foot!  Farewell and
+Farewell!"
+
+We had scarcely read it, when John Marshall and his wife came in
+agitation, and said that Billy's bed had not been slept in during the
+night.  From the rouseabout we found that Eversofar and Bingong were also
+gone.  They had not taken horses, doubtless because Billy thought it
+would hardly be valiant and adventurous enough, and because neither
+Bingong nor Eversofar owned one, and it might look criminal to go off
+with mine.  We suspected that they had headed for the great Debil-devil
+Waterhole, where, it was said, the Bunyip appeared: that mysterious
+animal, or devil, or thing, which nobody has ever seen, but many have
+pretended to see.  Now, this must be said of Billy, that he never had the
+feeling of fear--he was never even afraid of me.  He had often said he
+had seen a Bunyip, and that he'd bring one home some day, but no one
+took him seriously.  It showed what great influence he had over his
+companions, that he could induce them to go with him; for Bingong, being
+a native, must naturally have a constitutional fear of the Debil-debil,
+as the Bunyip is often called.  The Debil-debil Waterhole was a long way
+off, and through a terrible country--quartz plains, ragged scrub, and
+little or no water all the way.  Then, had they taken plenty of food with
+them?  So far as we could see, they had taken some, but we could not tell
+how much.
+
+My wife smiled at the business at first; then became worried as the day
+wore on, and she could see the danger and hardship of wandering about
+this forsaken country without a horse and with uncertain water.  The day
+passed.  They did not return.  We determined on a search the next
+morning.  At daybreak, Marshall and I and the rouseabout started on good
+horses, each going at different angles, but agreeing to meet at the Debil
+debil Waterhole, and to wait there for each other.  If any one of us did
+not come after a certain time, we were to conclude that he had found the
+adventurers and was making his way back with them.  After a day of
+painful travel and little water, Marshall and I arrived, almost within an
+hour of each other.  We could see no sign of anybody having been at the
+lagoon.  We waited twelve hours, and were about to go, leaving a mark
+behind us to show we had been there, when we saw the rouseabout and his
+exhausted horse coming slowly through the bluebush to us.  He had
+suffered much for want of water.
+
+We all started back again at different angles, our final rendezvous being
+arranged for the station homestead, the rouseabout taking a direct line,
+and making for the Little Black Billabong on the way.  I saw no sign of
+the adventurers.  I sickened with the heat, and my eyes became inflamed.
+I was glad enough when, at last, I drew rein in the home paddock.  I
+couldn't see any distance, though I was not far from the house.  But when
+I got into the garden I saw that others had just arrived.  It was the
+rouseabout with my wife's lovers.  He had found Billy nursing Eversofar
+in the shade of a stunted brigalow, while Bingong was away hunting for
+water.  Billy himself had pushed his cause as bravely as possible, and
+had in fact visited the Little Black Billabong, where--he always
+maintains--he had seen the great Bunyip.  But after watching one night,
+they tried to push on to the Debil-debil Waterhole.  Old Eversofar, being
+weak and old, gave in, and Billy became a little delirious--he has denied
+it, but Bingong says it is so; yet he pulled himself together as became
+the leader of an expedition, and did what he could for Eversofar until
+the rouseabout came with food and water.  Then he broke down and cried--
+he denies this also.  They tied the sick man on the horse and trudged
+back to the station in a bad plight.
+
+As I came near the group I heard my wife say to Billy, who looked sadly
+haggard and ill, that she was sure he would have got the Bunyip if it
+hadn't been for the terrible drought; and at that, regardless of my
+presence, he took her by the arms and kissed her, and then she kissed him
+several times.
+
+Perhaps I ought to have mentioned before that Billy was just nine years
+old.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE STRANGERS' HUT
+
+I had come a long journey across country with Glenn, the squatter,
+and now we were entering the homestead paddock of his sheep-station,
+Winnanbar.  Afar to the left was a stone building, solitary in a waste
+of saltbush and dead-finish scrub.  I asked Glenn what it was.
+
+He answered, smilingly: "The Strangers' Hut.  Sundowners and that lot
+sleep there; there's always some flour and tea in a hammock, under the
+roof, and there they are with a pub of their own.  It's a fashion we have
+in Australia."
+
+"It seems all right, Glenn," I said with admiration.  "It's surer than
+Elijah's ravens."
+
+"It saves us from their prowling about the barracks, and camping on the
+front veranda."
+
+"How many do you have of a week?"
+
+"That depends.  Sundowners are as uncertain as they are unknown
+quantities.  After shearing-time they're thickest; in the dead of summer
+fewest.  This is the dead of summer," and, for the hundredth time in our
+travel, Glenn shook his head sadly.
+
+Sadness was ill-suited to his burly form and bronzed face, but it was
+there.  He had some trouble, I thought, deeper than drought.  It was too
+introspective to have its origin solely in the fact that sheep were dying
+by thousands, that the stock-routes were as dry of water as the hard sky
+above us, and that it was a toss-up whether many families in the West
+should not presently abandon their stations, driven out by a water-
+famine--and worse.
+
+After a short silence Glenn stood up in the trap, and, following the
+circle of the horizon with his hand, said: "There's not an honest blade
+of grass in all this wretched West.  This whole business is gambling with
+God."
+
+"It is hard on women and children that they must live here," I remarked,
+with my eyes on the Strangers' Hut.
+
+"It's harder for men without them," he mournfully replied; and at that
+moment I began to doubt whether Glenn, whom I had heard to be a bachelor,
+was not tired of that calm but chilly state.  He followed up this speech
+immediately by this: "Look at that drinking-tank!"
+
+The thing was not pleasant in the eye.  Sheep were dying and dead by
+thousands round it, and the crows were feasting horribly.  We became
+silent again.
+
+The Strangers' Hut, and its unique and, to me, awesome hospitality, was
+still in my mind.  It remained with me until, impelled by curiosity, I
+wandered away towards it in the glow and silence of the evening.  The
+walk was no brief matter, but at length I stood near the lonely public,
+where no name of guest is ever asked, and no bill ever paid.  And then I
+fell to musing on how many life-histories these grey walls had sheltered
+for a fitful hour, how many stumbling wayfarers had eaten and drunken in
+this Hotel of Refuge.  I dropped my glances on the ground; a bird, newly
+dead, lay at my feet, killed by the heat.
+
+At that moment I heard a child's crying.  I started forward, then
+faltered.  Why, I could not tell, save that the crying seemed so a part
+of the landscape that it might have come out of the sickly sunset, out of
+the yellow sky, out of the aching earth about me.  To follow it might be
+like pursuing dreams.  The crying ceased.
+
+Thus for a moment, and then I walked round to the door of the hut.  At
+the sound of slight moaning I paused again.  Then I crossed the threshold
+resolutely.
+
+A woman with a child in her arms sat on a rude couch.  Her lips were
+clinging to the infant's forehead.  At the sound of my footsteps she
+raised her head.
+
+"Ah!" she said, and, trembling, rose to her feet.  She was fair-haired
+and strong, if sad, of face.  Perhaps she never had been beautiful, but
+in health her face must have been persistent in its charm.  Even now it
+was something noble.
+
+With that patronage of compassion which we use towards those who are
+unfortunate and humble, I was about to say to her, "My poor woman!" but
+there was something in her manner so above her rude surroundings that I
+was impelled to this instead: "Madam, you are ill.  Can I be of service
+to you?"
+
+Then I doffed my hat.  I had not done so before, and I blushed now as I
+did it, for I saw that she had compelled me.  She sank back upon the
+couch again as though the effort to achieve my courtesy had unnerved her,
+and she murmured simply and painfully: "Thank you very much: I have
+travelled far."
+
+"May I ask how far?"
+
+"From Mount o' Eden, two hundred miles and more, I think"; and her eyes
+sought the child's face, while her cheek grew paler.  She had lighted a
+tiny fire on the hearthstone and had put the kettle on the wood.  Her
+eyes were upon it now with the covetousness of thirst and hunger.  I
+kneeled, and put in the tin of water left behind by some other pilgrim,
+a handful of tea from the same source--the outcast and suffering giving
+to their kind.  I poured out for her soon a little of the tea.  Then I
+asked for her burden.  She gave it to my arms--a wan, wise-faced child.
+
+"Madam," I said, "I am only a visitor here, but, if you feel able, and
+will come with me to the homestead, you shall, I know, find welcome and
+kindness, or, if you will wait, there are horses, and you shall be
+brought--yes, indeed," I added, as she shook her head in sad negation,
+"you will be welcome."
+
+I was sure that, whatever ill chances had befallen the mother of this
+child, she was one of those who are found in the sight of the Perfect
+Justice sworn for by the angels.  I knew also that Glenn would see that
+she should be cordially sheltered and brought back to health; for men
+like Glenn, I said to myself, are kinder in their thought of suffering
+women than women themselves-are kinder, juster, and less prone to think
+evil.
+
+She raised her head, and answered: "I think that I could walk; but this,
+you see, is the only hospitality that I can accept, save, it may be, some
+bread and a little meat, that the child suffer no more, until I reach
+Winnanbar, which, I fear, is still far away."
+
+"This," I replied, "is Winnanbar; the homestead is over there, beyond the
+hill."
+
+"This is--Winnanbar?" she whisperingly said, "this--is--Winnanbar!
+I did not think--I was-so near."  .  .  .  A thankful look came to her
+face.  She rose, and took the child again and pressed it to her breast,
+and her eyes brooded upon it.  "Now she is beautiful," I thought, and
+waited for her to speak.
+
+"Sir--" she said at last, and paused.  In the silence a footstep sounded
+without, and then a form appeared in the doorway.  It was Glenn.
+
+"I followed you," he said to me; "and--!"  He saw the woman, and a low
+cry broke from her.
+
+"Agnes!  Agnes!" he cried, with something of sternness and a little
+shame.
+
+"I have come--to you--again-Robert," she brokenly, but not abjectly,
+said.
+
+He came close to her and looked into her face, then into the face of the
+child, with a sharp questioning.  She did not flinch, but answered his
+scrutiny clearly and proudly.  Then, after a moment, she turned a
+disappointed look upon me, as though to say that I, a stranger, had read
+her aright at once, while this man held her afar in the cold courts of
+his judgment ere he gave her any welcome or said a word of pity.
+
+She sank back on the bench, and drew a hand with sorrowful slowness
+across her brow.  He saw a ring upon her finger.  He took her hand and
+said: "You are married, Agnes?"
+
+"My husband is dead, and the sister of this poor one also," she replied;
+and she fondled the child and raised her eyes to her brother's.
+
+His face now showed compassion.  He stooped and kissed her cheek.  And it
+seemed to me at that moment that she could not be gladder than I.
+
+"Agnes," he said, "can you forgive me?"
+
+"He was only a stock-rider," she murmured, as if to herself, "but he was
+well-born.  I loved him.  You were angry.  I went away with him in the
+night .  .  .  far away to the north.  God was good--"  Here she brushed
+her lips tenderly across the curls of the child.  "Then the drought came
+and sickness fell and .  .  .  death .  .  .  and I was alone with my
+baby--"
+
+His lips trembled and his hand was hurting my arm, though he knew it not.
+
+"Where could I go?" she continued.
+
+Glenn answered pleadingly now: "To your unworthy brother, God bless you
+and forgive me, dear!--though even here at Winnanbar there is drought
+and famine and the cattle die."
+
+"But my little one shall live!" she cried joyfully.  That night Glenn of
+Winnanbar was a happy man, for rain fell on the land, and he held his
+sister's child in his arms.
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+It isn't what they do, it's what they don't do
+No, I'm not good--I'm only beautiful
+Should not make our own personal experience a law unto the world
+Undisciplined generosity
+Women don't go by evidence, but by their feelings
+You have lost your illusions
+You've got to be ready, that's all
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CUMNER'S SON AND OTHER SOUTH SEA FOLK
+
+by Gilbert Parker
+
+Volume 3.
+
+
+THE PLANTER'S WIFE
+BARBARA GOLDING
+THE LONE CORVETTE
+
+
+
+THE PLANTER'S WIFE
+
+I
+
+She was the daughter of a ruined squatter, whose family had been pursued
+with bad luck; he was a planter, named Houghton.  She was not an uncommon
+woman; he was not an unusual man.  They were not happy, they might never
+be; he was almost sure they would not be; she had long ceased to think
+they could be.  She had told him when she married him that she did not
+love him.  He had been willing to wait for her love, believing that by
+patience and devotion he could win it.  They were both sorry for each
+other now.  They accepted things as they were, but they knew there was
+danger in the situation.  She loved some one else, and he knew it, but he
+had never spoken to her of it--he was of too good stuff for that.  He was
+big and burly, and something awkward in his ways.  She was pretty, clear-
+minded, kind, and very grave.  There were days when they were both bitter
+at heart.  On one such day they sat at luncheon, eating little, and
+looking much out of the door across the rice fields and banana
+plantations to the Hebron Mountains.  The wife's eyes fixed on the hills
+and stayed.  A road ran down the hill towards a platform of rock which
+swept smooth and straight to the sheer side of the mountain called White
+Bluff.  At first glance it seemed that the road ended at the cliff--
+a mighty slide to destruction.  Instead, however, of coming straight to
+the cliff it veered suddenly, and ran round the mountain side, coming
+down at a steep but fairly safe incline.  The platform or cliff was
+fenced off by a low barricade of fallen trees, scarcely noticeable from
+the valley below.  The wife's eyes had often wandered to the spot with a
+strange fascination, as now.  Her husband looked at her meditatively.
+He nodded slightly, as though to himself.  She looked up.  Their
+understanding of each other's thoughts was singular.
+
+"Tom," she said, "I will ride the chestnut, Bowline, to that fence some
+day.  It will be a big steeplechase."  He winced, but answered slowly.
+"You have meant to say that for a long time past.  I am glad it has been
+said at last."
+
+She was struck by the perfect quietness of his tone.  Her eyes sought his
+face and rested for a moment, half bewildered, half pitying.
+
+"Yes, it has been in my mind often--often," she said.  "It's a horrible
+thought," he gravely replied; "but it is better to be frank.  Still,
+you'll never do it, Alice--you'll never dare to do it."
+
+"Dare, dare," she answered, springing to her feet, and a shuddering sigh
+broke from her.  "The thing itself is easy enough, Tom."
+
+"And why haven't you done it?" he asked in a hard voice, but still
+calmly.
+
+She leaned one hand upon the table, the other lay at her cheek, and her
+head bent forward at him.  "Because," she answered, "because I have tried
+to be thoughtful for you."
+
+"Oh, as to that," he said--"as to that!" and he shrugged his shoulders
+slightly.
+
+"You don't care a straw," she said sharply, "you never did."
+
+He looked up suddenly at her, a great bitterness in his face, and laughed
+strangely, as he answered: "Care!  Good God!  Care!  .  .  .  What's the
+use of caring?  It's been all a mistake; all wrong."
+
+"That is no news," she said wearily.  "You discovered that long ago."
+
+He looked out of the door across the warm fields again; he lifted his
+eyes to that mountain road; he looked down at her.  "I haven't any hope
+left now, Alice.  Let's be plain with each other.  We've always been
+plain, but let us be plainer still.  There are those rice fields out
+there, that banana plantation, and the sugar-cane stretching back as far
+as the valley goes--it's all mine, all mine.  I worked hard for it.  I
+had only one wish with it all, one hope through it all, and it was, that
+when I brought you here as my wife, you would come to love me--some time.
+Well, I've waited, and waited.  It hasn't come.  We're as far apart to-
+day as we were the day I married you.  Farther, for I had hope then, but
+I've no hope now, none at all."
+
+They both turned towards the intemperate sunlight and the great hill.
+The hollowness of life as they lived it came home to them with an aching
+force.  Yet she lifted her fan from the table and fanned herself gently
+with it, and he mechanically lit a cigar.  Servants passed in and out
+removing the things from the table.  Presently they were left alone.
+The heavy breath of the palm trees floated in upon them; the fruit of the
+passion-flower hung temptingly at the window; they could hear the sound
+of a torrent just behind the house.  The day was droning luxuriously,
+yet the eyes of both, as by some weird influence, were fastened upon the
+hill; and presently they saw, at the highest point where the road was
+visible, a horseman.  He came slowly down until he reached the spot where
+the road was barricaded from the platform of the cliff.  Here he paused.
+He sat long, looking, as it appeared, down into the valley.  The husband
+rose and took down a field-glass from a shelf; he levelled it at the
+figure.
+
+"Strange, strange," he said to himself; "he seems familiar, and yet--"
+
+She rose and reached out her hand for the glass.  He gave it to her.  She
+raised it to her eyes, but, at that moment, the horseman swerved into the
+road again, and was lost to view.  Suddenly Houghton started; an
+enigmatical smile passed across his face.
+
+"Alice," said he, "did you mean what you said about the steeplechase--
+I mean about the ride down the White Bluff road?"
+
+"I meant all I said," was her bitter reply.
+
+"You think life is a mistake?" he rejoined.
+
+"I think we have made a mistake," was her answer; "a deadly mistake, and
+it lasts all our lives."
+
+He walked to the door, trained the glass again on the hill, then
+afterwards turned round, and said:
+
+"If ever you think of riding the White Bluff road--straight for the cliff
+itself and over--tell me, and I'll ride it with you.  If it's all wrong
+as it is, it's all wrong for both, and, maybe, the worst of what comes
+after is better than the worst of what is here."
+
+They had been frank with each other in the past, but never so frank as
+this.  He was determined that they should be still more frank; and so was
+she.  "Alice," he said--
+
+"Wait a minute," she interjected.  "I have something to say, Tom.  I
+never told you--indeed, I thought I never should tell you; but now I
+think it's best to do so.  I loved a man once--with all my soul."
+
+"You love him still," was the reply; and he screwed and unscrewed the
+field-glass in his hand, looking bluntly at her the while.  She nodded,
+returning his gaze most earnestly and choking back a sob.
+
+"Well, it's a pity, it's a pity," he replied.  "We oughtn't to live
+together as it is.  It's all wrong; it's wicked--I can see that now."
+
+"You are not angry with me?" she answered in surprise.
+
+"You can't help it, I suppose," he answered drearily.
+
+"Do you really mean," she breathlessly said, "that we might as well die
+together, since we can't live together and be happy?"
+
+"There's nothing in life that gives me a pleasant taste in the mouth, so
+what's the good?  Mind you, my girl, I think it a terrible pity that you
+should have the thought to die; and if you could be happy living, I'd die
+myself to save you.  But can you?  That's the question--can you be happy,
+even if I went and you stayed?"
+
+"I don't think so," she said thoughtfully, and without excitement.
+
+"No, I don't think so."
+
+"The man's name was Cayley--Cayley," he said to her bluntly.
+
+"How did you know?" she asked, astonished.  "You never saw him."
+
+"Oh, yes, I've seen him," was the reply--"seen him often.  I knew him
+once."
+
+"I do not understand you," she rejoined.
+
+"I knew it all along," he continued, "and I've waited for you to tell
+me."
+
+"How did you know?"
+
+"Cayley told me."
+
+"When did he tell you?"
+
+"The morning that I married you."  His voice was thick with misery.
+
+She became white and dazed.  "Before--or after?" she asked.  He paused a
+moment, looking steadily at her, and answered, "Before."
+
+She drew back as though she had been struck.  "Good God!" she cried.
+"Why did he not--" she paused.
+
+"Why did he not marry you himself?" he rejoined.
+
+"You must ask him that yourself, if you do not know."
+
+"And yet you married me, knowing all--that he loved me," she gasped.
+
+"I would have married you then, knowing a thousand times that."
+
+She cowered, but presently advanced to him.  "You have sinned as much as
+I," she said.  "Do you dare pay the penalty?"
+
+"Do I dare ride with you to the cliff--and beyond?"  Her lips framed a
+reply, but no sound came.
+
+"But we will wait till to-morrow," he said absently.
+
+"Why not to-day?" she painfully asked.
+
+"We will wait till to-morrow," he urged, and his eyes followed the trail
+of a horseman on the hill.
+
+"Why not while we have courage?" she persisted, as though the suspense
+hurt her."
+
+"But we will wait till to-morrow, Alice," he again repeated.
+
+"Very well," she answered, with the indifference of despair.
+
+He stood in the doorway and watched a horseman descending into valley.
+
+"Strange things may chance before to-morrow," he said to himself, and he
+mechanically lighted another cigar.  She idled with her fan.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+He did not leave the house that afternoon.  He kept his post on the
+veranda, watching the valley.  With an iron kind of calmness he was
+facing a strange event.  It was full of the element of chance, and he had
+been taking chances all his life.  With the chances of fortune he had
+won; with the chances of love and happiness he had lost.  He knew that
+the horseman on the mountain-side was Cayley; he knew that Cayley would
+not be near his home without a purpose.  Besides, Cayley had said he
+would come--he had said it in half banter, half threat.  Houghton had had
+too many experiences backward and forward in the world, to be afflicted
+with littleness of mind.  He had never looked to get an immense amount of
+happiness out of life, but he thought that love and marriage would give
+him a possible approach to content.  He had chanced it, and he had lost.
+At first he had taken it with a dreadful bitterness; now he regarded it
+with a quiet, unimpassioned despair.  He regarded his wife, himself, and
+Cayley, as an impartial judge would view the extraordinary claims of
+three desperate litigants.  He thought it all over as he sat there
+smoking.  When the servants came to him to ask him questions or his men
+ventured upon matters of business, he answered them directly, decisively,
+and went on thinking.  His wife had come to take coffee with him at
+the usual hour of the afternoon.  There was no special strain of manner
+or of speech.  The voices were a little lower, the tones a little more
+decided, their eyes did not meet; that was all.  When coffee-drinking was
+over the wife retired to her room.  Still Houghton smoked on.  At length
+he saw the horseman entering into the grove of palms before the door.  He
+rose deliberately from his seat and walked down the pathway.
+
+"Good day to you, Houghton," the horseman said; "we meet again, you see."
+
+"I see."
+
+"You are not overjoyed."
+
+"There's no reason why I should be glad.  Why have you come?"
+
+"You remember our last meeting five years ago.  You were on your way to
+be married.  Marriage is a beautiful thing, Houghton, when everything is
+right and square, and there's love both sides.  Well, everything was
+right and square with you and the woman you were going to marry; but
+there was not love both sides."
+
+While they had been talking thus, Houghton had, of purpose, led his
+companion far into the shade of the palms.  He now wheeled upon Cayley,
+and said sternly: "I warn you to speak with less insolence; we had better
+talk simply."
+
+Cayley was perfectly cool.  "We will talk simply.  As I said, you had
+marriage without love.  The woman loved another man.  That other man
+loved the woman--that good woman.  In youthful days at college he had
+married, neither wisely nor well, a beggar-maid without those virtues
+usually credited to beggar-maidens who marry gentlemen.  Well, Houghton,
+the beggar-maid was supposed to have died.  She hadn't died; she had
+shammed.  Meanwhile, between her death and her resurrection, the man came
+to love that good woman.  And so, lines got crossed; things went wrong.
+Houghton, I loved Alice before she was your wife.  I should have married
+her but for the beggar-maid."
+
+"You left her without telling her why."
+
+"I told her that things must end, and I went away."
+
+"Like a coward," rejoined Houghton.  "You should have told her all."
+
+"What difference has it made?" asked Cayley gloomily.
+
+"My happiness and hers.  If you had told her all, there had been an end
+of mystery.  Mystery is dear to a woman's heart.  She was not different
+in that respect from others.  You took the surest way to be remembered."
+
+Cayley's fingers played with his horse's mane; his eyes ran over the
+ground debatingly; then he lifted them suddenly, and said: "Houghton, you
+are remarkably frank with me; what do you mean by it?"
+
+"I'll tell you if you will answer me this question: Why have you come
+here?"
+
+The eyes of both men crossed like swords, played with each other for a
+moment, and then fixed to absolute determination.  Cayley answered
+doggedly: "I came to see your wife, because I'm not likely ever to see
+her or you again.  I wanted one look of her before I went away.  There,
+I'm open with you."
+
+"It is well to be open with me," Houghton replied.  He drew Cayley aside
+to an opening in the trees, where the mountain and the White Bluff road
+could be seen, and pointed.  "That would make a wonderful leap," he said,
+"from the top of the hill down to the cliff edge--and over!"
+
+"A dreadful steeplechase," said Cayley.
+
+Houghton lowered his voice.  "Two people have agreed to take that fence."
+
+Cayley frowned.  "What two people?"
+
+"My wife and I"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because there has been a mistake, and to live is misery."
+
+"Has it come to that?" Cayley asked huskily.  "Is there no way--no
+better way?  Are you sure that Death mends things?"  Presently he put his
+hand upon Houghton's arm, as if with a sudden, keen resolve.  "Houghton,"
+he said, "you are a man--I have become a villain.  A woman sent me once
+on the high road to the devil; then an angel came in and made a man of me
+again; but I lost the angel, and another man found her, and I took the
+highway with the devil again.  I was born a gentleman--that you know.
+Now I am .  .  ."  He hesitated.  A sardonic smile crept across his face.
+
+"Yes, you are--?" interposed Houghton.
+
+"I am--a man who will give you your wife's love."
+
+"I do not understand," Houghton responded.  Cayley drew Houghton back
+from where they stood and away from the horse.
+
+"Look at that horse," he said.  "Did you ever see a better?"
+
+"Never," answered Houghton, running him over with his eye, "never."
+
+"You notice the two white feet and the star on the forehead.  Now,
+listen.  Firefoot, here!"
+
+"My God!" said Houghton, turning upon him with staring eyes, "you are--"
+
+"Whose horse is that?" interjected Cayley.  Firefoot laid his head upon
+Cayley's shoulder.
+
+Houghton looked at them both for a moment.  "It is the horse of Hyland
+the bushranger," he said.  "All Queensland knows Firefoot."  Then he
+dazedly added: "Are you Hyland?"
+
+"A price is set on my head," the bushranger answered with a grim smile.
+
+Houghton stood silent for a moment, breathing hard.  Then he rejoined:
+"You are bold to come here openly."
+
+"If I couldn't come here openly I would not come at all," answered the
+other.  "After what I have told you," he added, "will you take me in and
+let me speak with your wife?"
+
+Houghton's face turned black, and he was about to answer angrily, but
+Cayley said: "On my honour--I will play a fair game," he said.
+
+For an instant their eyes were fixed on each other; then, with a gesture
+for Cayley to follow, Houghton went towards the house.
+
+Five, minutes later Houghton said to his wife: "Alice, a stranger has
+come."
+
+"Who is it?" she asked breathlessly, for she read importance in his
+tone.
+
+"It is the horseman we saw on the hillside."  His eyes passed over her
+face pityingly.  "I will go and bring him."
+
+She caught his arm.  "Who is it?  Is it any one I know?"
+
+"It is some one you know," he answered, and left the room.  Bewildered,
+anticipating, yet dreading to recognise her thoughts, she sat down and
+waited in a painful stillness.
+
+Presently the door opened, and Cayley entered.  She started to her feet
+with a stifled, bitter cry: "Oh, Harry!"
+
+He hurried to her with arms outstretched, for she swayed; but she
+straightway recovered herself, and, leaning against a chair, steadied
+to his look.
+
+"Why have you come here?" she whispered.  "To say good-bye for always,"
+was his reply.
+
+"And why--for always?" She was very white and quiet.
+
+"Because we are not likely ever to meet again."
+
+"Where are you going?" she anxiously asked.  "God knows!"
+
+Strange sensations were working in her.  What would be the end of this?
+Her husband, knowing all, had permitted this man to come to her alone.
+She had loved him for years; though he had deserted her years ago, she
+loved him still--did she love him still?
+
+"Will you not sit down?" she said with mechanical courtesy.
+
+A stranger would not have thought from their manner that there were lives
+at stake.  They both sat, he playing with the leaves of an orchid, she
+opening and shutting her fan absently.  But she was so cold she could
+hardly speak.  Her heart seemed to stand still.
+
+"How has the world used you since we met last?" she tried to say
+neutrally.
+
+"Better, I fear, than I have used it," he answered quietly.
+
+"I do not quite see.  How could you ill-use the world?"  There was faint
+irony in her voice now.  A change seemed to have come upon her.
+
+"By ill-using any one person we ill-use society--the world"--he meaningly
+replied.
+
+"Whom have you ill-used?"  She did not look at him.
+
+"Many--you chiefly."
+
+"How have you--most-ill-used me?"
+
+"By letting you think well of me--you have done so, have you not?"
+
+She did not speak, but lowered her head, and caught her breath slightly.
+There was a silence.  Then she said: "There was no reason why I should--
+But you must not say these things to me.  My husband--"
+
+"Your husband knows all."
+
+"But that does not alter it," she urged firmly.  "Though he may be
+willing you should speak of these things, I am not."
+
+"Your husband is a good fellow," he rejoined.  "I am not."
+
+"You are not?" she asked wearily.
+
+"No.  What do you think was the reason that, years ago, I said we could
+never be married, and that we must forget each other?"
+
+"I cannot tell.  I supposed it was some duty of which I could not know.
+There are secret and sacred duties which we sometimes do not tell, even
+to our nearest and dearest .  .  .  but I said we should not speak of
+these things, and we must not."  She rose to her feet.  "My husband is
+somewhere near.  I will call him.  There are so many things that men can
+talk of-pleasant and agreeable things--"
+
+He had risen with her, and as her hand was stretched out to ring, stayed
+it.  "No, never mind your husband just now.  I think he knows what I am
+going to say to you."
+
+"But, oh, you must not--must not!" she urged.
+
+"Pardon me, but I must," was his reply.
+
+"As I said, you thought I was a good fellow.  Well, I am not; not at all.
+I will tell you why I left you.  I was--already married."
+
+He let the bare unrelieved fact face her, and shock her.
+
+"You were--already married--when--you loved me," she said, her face
+showing misery and shame.
+
+He smiled a little bitterly when he saw the effect of his words, but said
+clearly: "Yes.  You see I was a villain."
+
+She shuddered a little, and then said simply: "Your face was not the face
+of a bad man.  Are you telling me the truth?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Then you were wicked with me," she said at last, with a great sigh,
+looking him straight in the eyes.  "But you--you loved me?" she said
+with injured pride and a piteous appeal in her voice.  "Ah, I know you
+loved me!"
+
+"I will tell you when you know all," he answered evenly.
+
+"Is there more to tell?" she asked heavily, and shrinking from him now.
+
+"Much more.  Please, come here."  He went towards the open window of the
+room, and she followed.  He pointed out to where his horse stood in the
+palms.
+
+"That is my horse," he said.  He whistled to the horse, which pricked up
+its ears and trotted over to the window.  "The name of my horse," he
+said, "maybe familiar to you.  He is called Firefoot."
+
+"Firefoot!" she answered dazedly, "that is the name of Hyland's horse--
+Hyland the bushranger."
+
+"This is Hyland's horse," he said, and he patted the animal's neck gently
+as it thrust its head within the window.
+
+"But you said it was your horse," she rejoined slowly, as though the
+thing perplexed her sorely.
+
+"It is Hyland's horse; it is my horse," he urged without looking at her.
+His courage well-nigh failed him.  Villain as he was, he loved her, and
+he saw the foundations of her love for him crumbling away before him.  In
+all his criminal adventures he had cherished this one thing.
+
+She suddenly gave a cry of shame and agony, a low trembling cry, as
+though her heart-strings were being dragged out.  She drew back from him
+--back to the middle of the room.
+
+He came towards her, reaching out his arms.  "Forgive me," he said.
+
+"Oh, no, never!" she cried with horror.
+
+The cry had been heard outside, and Houghton entered the room, to find
+his wife, all her strength gone, turning a face of horror upon Cayley.
+She stretched out her arms to her husband with a pitiful cry.  "Tom," she
+said, "Tom, take me away."
+
+He took her gently in his arms.
+
+Cayley stood with his hand upon his horse's neck.  "Houghton," he said in
+a low voice, "I have been telling your wife what I was, and who I am.
+She is shocked.  I had better go."
+
+The woman's head had dropped on her husband's shoulder.  Houghton waited
+to see if she would look up.  But she did not.
+
+"Well, good-bye to you both," Cayley said, stepped through the window,
+and vaulted on his horse's back.  "I'm going to see if the devil's as
+black as he's painted."  Then, setting spurs to his horse, he galloped
+away through the palms to the gate.
+
+                    ......................
+
+A year later Hyland the bushranger was shot in a struggle with the
+mounted police sent to capture him.
+
+The planter's wife read of it in England, whither she had gone on a
+visit.
+
+"It is better so," she said to herself, calmly.  "And he wished it, I am
+sure."
+
+For now she knew the whole truth, and she did not love her husband less
+--but more.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+BARBARA GOLDING
+
+The last time John Osgood saw Barbara Golding was on a certain summer
+afternoon at the lonely Post, Telegraph, and Customs Station known as
+Rahway, on the Queensland coast.  It was at Rahway also that he first and
+last saw Mr. Louis Bachelor.  He had had excellent opportunities for
+knowing Barbara Golding; for many years she had been governess (and
+something more) to his sisters Janet, Agnes and Lorna.  She had been
+engaged in Sydney as governess simply, but Wandenong cattle station was
+far up country, and she gradually came to perform the functions of
+milliner and dressmaker, encouraged thereto by the family for her
+unerring taste and skill.  Her salary, however, had been proportionately
+increased, and it did not decline when her office as governess became
+practically a sinecure as her pupils passed beyond the sphere of the
+schoolroom.  Perhaps George Osgood, father of John Osgood, and owner of
+Wandenong, did not make an allowance to Barbara Golding for her services
+as counsellor and confidant of his family; but neither did he subtract
+anything from her earnings in those infrequent years when she journeyed
+alone to Sydney on those mysterious visits which so mightily puzzled the
+good people of Wandenong.  The boldest and most off-hand of them,
+however, could never discover what Barbara Golding did not choose to
+tell.  She was slight, almost frail in form, and very gentle of manner;
+but she also possessed that rare species of courtesy which, never
+declining to fastidiousness nor lapsing into familiarity, checked all
+curious intrusion, was it ever so insinuating; and the milliner and
+dressmaker was not less self-poised and compelling of respect than the
+governess and confidant.
+
+In some particulars the case of Louis Bachelor was similar.  Besides
+being the Post, Telegraph, and Customs Officer, and Justice of the Peace
+at Rahway, he was available and valuable to the Government as a
+meteorologist.  The Administration recognised this after a few years of
+voluntary and earnest labour on Louis Bachelor's part.  It was not,
+however, his predictions concerning floods or droughts that roused this
+official appreciation, but the fulfilment of those predictions.  At
+length a yearly honorarium was sent to him, and then again, after a
+dignified delay, there was forwarded to him a suggestion from the Cabinet
+that he should come to Brisbane and take a more important position.  It
+was when this patronage was declined that the Premier (dropping for a
+moment into that bushman's jargon which came naturally to him) said,
+irritably, that Louis Bachelor was a "old fossil who didn't know when
+he'd got his dover in the dough," which, being interpreted into the slang
+of the old world, means, his knife into the official loaf.  But the
+fossil went on as before, known by name to the merest handful of people
+in the colony, though they all profited, directly or indirectly, by his
+scientific services.  He was as unknown to the dwellers at Wandenong as
+they were to him, or he again to the citizens of the moon.
+
+It was the custom for Janet and Agnes Osgood to say that Barbara Golding
+had a history.  On every occasion the sentiment was uttered with that
+fresh conviction in tone which made it appear to be born again.  It
+seemed to have especially pregnant force one evening after Janet had been
+consulting Barbara on the mysteries of the garment in which she was to be
+married to Druce Stephens, part owner of Booldal Station.  "Aggie,"
+remarked the coming bride, "Barbara's face flushed up ever so pink when I
+said to her that she seemed to know exactly what a trousseau ought to be.
+I wonder!  She is well-bred enough to have been anybody; and the Bishop
+of Adelaide recommended her, you know."
+
+Soon after this Druce Stephens arrived at Wandenong and occupied the
+attention of Janet until suppertime, when he startled the company by the
+tale of his adventures on the previous evening with Roadmaster, the
+mysterious bushranger, whose name was now in every man's mouth; who
+apparently worked with no confederates--a perilous proceeding, though it
+reduced the chances of betrayal.  Druce was about to camp on the plains
+for the night, in preference to riding on to a miserable bush-tavern a
+few miles away, when he was suddenly accosted in the scrub by a gallant-
+looking fellow on horseback, who, from behind his mask, asked him to give
+up what money he had about him, together with his watch and ring.  The
+request was emphasised by the presence of a revolver held at an easy but
+suggestive angle.  The disadvantage to the squatter was obvious.  He
+merely asked that he should be permitted to keep the ring, as it had many
+associations, remarking at the same time that he would be pleased to give
+an equivalent for it if the bushranger would come to Wandenong.  At the
+mention of Wandenong the highwayman asked his name.  On being told, he
+handed back the money, the watch, and the ring, and politely requested a
+cigar, saying that the Osgoods merited consideration at his hands, and
+that their friends were safe from molestation.  Then he added, with some
+grim humour, that if Druce had no objection to spending an hour with
+Roadmaster over a fire and a billy of tea, he would be glad of his
+company; for bushranging, according to his system, was but dull work.
+The young squatter consented, and together they sat for two hours, the
+highwayman, however, never removing his mask.  They talked of many
+things, and at last Druce ventured to ask his companion about the death
+of Blood Finchley, the owner of Tarawan sheep-run.  At this Roadmaster
+became weary, and rose to leave; but as if on second thought, he said
+that Finchley's companion, whom he allowed to go unrobbed and untouched,
+was both a coward and a liar; that the slain man had fired thrice
+needlessly, and had wounded him in the neck (the scar of which he showed)
+before he drew trigger.  Druce then told him that besides a posse of
+police, a number of squatters and bushmen had banded to hunt him down,
+and advised him to make for the coast if he could, and leave the country.
+At this Roadmaster laughed, and said that his fancy was not sea-ward yet,
+though that might come; and then, with a courteous wave of his hand, he
+jumped on his horse and rode away.
+
+The Osgoods speculated curiously and futilely on Roadmaster's identity,
+as indeed the whole colony had done.  And here it may be said that people
+of any observation (though, of necessity, they were few, since Rahway
+attracted only busy sugar-planters and their workmen) were used to speak
+of Louis Bachelor as one who must certainly have a history.  The person
+most likely to have the power of inquisition into his affairs was his
+faithful aboriginal servant, Gongi.  But records and history were only
+understood by Gongi when they were restricted to the number of heads
+taken in tribal battle.  At the same time he was a devoted slave to the
+man who, at the risk of his own life, had rescued him from the murderous
+spears of his aboriginal foes.  That was a kind of record within Gongi's
+comprehension, from the contemplation of which he turned to speak of
+Louis Bachelor as "That fellow budgery marmi b'longin' to me," which, in
+civilised language, means "my good master."  Gongi often dilated on this
+rescue, and he would, for purposes of illustration, take down from his
+master's wall an artillery officer's sabre and show how his assailants
+had been dispersed.
+
+From the presence of this sword it was not unreasonably assumed that
+Louis Bachelor had at some time been in the army.  He was not, however,
+communicative on this point, though he shrewdly commented on European
+wars and rumours of wars when they occurred.  He also held strenuous
+opinions of the conduct of Government and the suppression of public
+evils, based obviously upon military views of things.  .  For bushrangers
+he would have a modern Tyburn, but this and other tragic suggestions
+lacked conviction when confronted with his verdicts given as Justice of
+the Peace.  He pronounced judgments in a grand and airy fashion, but as
+if he were speaking by a card, the Don Quixote whose mercy would be
+vaster than his wrath.  This was the impression he gave, to, John Osgood
+on the day when the young squatter introduced himself to Rahway, where he
+had come on a mission to its one official.  The young man's father had a
+taste for many things; astronomy was his latest, and he had bought from
+the Government a telescope which, excellent in its day, had been
+superseded by others of later official purchase.  He had brought it to
+Wandenong, had built a home for it, and had got it into trouble.  He had
+then sent to Brisbane for assistance, and the astronomer of the
+Government had referred him to the postmaster at Rahway, "Prognosticator"
+of the meteorological column in The Courier, who would be instructed to
+give Mr. Osgood every help, especially as the occultation of Venus was
+near.  Men do not send letters by post in a new country when personal
+communication is possible, and John Osgood was asked by his father to go
+to Rahway.  When John wished for the name of this rare official, the
+astronomer's letter was handed over with a sarcastic request that the
+name might be deciphered; but the son was not more of an antiquary than
+his father, and he had to leave without it.  He rode to the coast, and
+there took a passing steamer to Rahway.  From the sea Rahway looked a
+tropical paradise.  The bright green palisades of mangrove on the right
+crowded down to the water's edge; on the left was the luxuriance of a
+tropical jungle; in the centre was an are of opal shore fringed with
+cocoa-palms, and beyond the sea a handful of white dwellings.  Behind was
+a sweeping monotony of verdure stretching back into the great valley of
+the Popri, and over all the heavy languor of the South.
+
+But the beauty was a delusion.  When John Osgood's small boat swept up
+the sands on the white crest of a league-long roller, how different was
+the scene!  He saw a group of dilapidated huts, a tavern called The
+Angel's Rest, a blackfellow's hut, and the bareness of three Government
+offices, all built on piles, that the white ants should not humble them
+suddenly to the dust; a fever-making mangrove swamp, black at the base as
+the filthiest moat, and tenanted by reptiles; feeble palms, and a sickly
+breath creeping from the jungle to mingle with the heavy scent of the
+last consignment of augar from the Popri valley.  It brought him to a
+melancholy standstill, disturbed at last by Gongi touching him on the arm
+and pointing towards the post-office.  His language to Gongi was strong;
+he called the place by names that were not polite; and even on the
+threshold of the official domain said that the Devil would have his last
+big muster there.  But from that instant his glibness declined.  The
+squatters are the aristocracy of Australia, and rural postmasters are not
+always considered eligible for a dinner-party at Government House; but
+when Louis Bachelor came forward to meet his visitor the young fellow's
+fingers quickly caught his hat from his head, and an off-hand greeting
+became a respectful salute.
+
+At first the young man was awed by the presence of the grizzled
+gentleman, and he struggled with his language to bring it up to the
+classic level of the old meteorologist's speech.  Before they had spoken
+a dozen words John Osgood said to himself: "What a quaint team he and the
+Maid of Honour would make!  It's the same kind of thing in both, with the
+difference of sex and circumstance."  The nature of his visitor's
+business pleased the old man, and infused his courtesy with warmth.  Yes,
+he would go to Wandenong with pleasure; the Government had communicated
+with him about it; a substitute had been offered; he was quite willing to
+take his first leave in four years; astronomy was a great subject, he had
+a very good and obedient telescope of his own, though not nearly so large
+as that at Wandenong; he would telegraph at once to Brisbane for the
+substitute to be sent on the following day, and would be ready to start
+in twenty-four hours.  After visiting Wandenong he would go to Brisbane
+for some scientific necessaries--and so on through smooth parentheses of
+talk.  Under all the bluntness of the Bush young Osgood had a refinement
+which now found expression in an attempt to make himself agreeable--not a
+difficult task, since, thanks to his father's tastes and a year or two at
+college, he had a smattering of physical science.  He soon won his way to
+the old man's heart, and to his laboratory, which had been developed
+through years of patience and ingenious toil in this desolate spot.
+
+Left alone that evening in Louis Bachelor's sitting-room, John Osgood's
+eyes were caught by a portrait on the wall, the likeness of a beautiful
+girl.  Something about the face puzzled him.  Where had he seen it?  More
+than a little of an artist, he began to reproduce the head on paper.  He
+put it in different poses; he added to it; he took away from it; he gave
+it a child's face, preserving the one striking expression; he made it
+that of a woman--of an elderly, grave woman.  Why, what was this?
+Barbara Golding!  He would not spoil the development of the drama, of
+which he now held the fluttering prologue, by any blunt treatment; he
+would touch this and that nerve gently to see what past connection there
+was between:
+
+          "These dim blown birds beneath an alien sky."
+
+He mooned along in this fashion, a fashion in which his bushmen friends
+would not have known him, until his host entered.  Then, in that
+auspicious moment when his own pipe and his companion's cigarette were
+being lighted, he said: "I've been amusing myself with drawing since you
+left, sir, and I've produced this," handing over the paper.
+
+Louis Bachelor took the sketch, and, walking to the window for better
+light, said: "Believe me, I have a profound respect for the artistic
+talent.  I myself once had--ah!"  He sharply paused as he saw the
+pencilled head, and stood looking fixedly at it.  Presently he turned
+slowly, came to the portrait on the wall, and compared it with that in
+his hand.  Then, with a troubled face, he said: "You have much talent,
+but it is--it is too old--much too old--and very sorrowful."
+
+"I intended the face to show age and sorrow, Mr. Bachelor.  Would not the
+original of that have both?"
+
+"She had sorrow--she had sorrow, but," and he looked sadly at the sketch
+again, "it is too old for her.  Her face was very young--always very
+young."
+
+"But has she not sorrow now, sir?" the other persisted gently.
+
+The grey head was shaken sadly, and the unsteady voice meditatively
+murmured: "Such beauty, such presence!  I was but five-and-thirty then."
+There was a slight pause, and then, with his hand touching the young
+man's shoulder, Louis Bachelor continued: "You are young; you have a good
+heart; I know men.  You have the sympathy of the artist--why should I not
+speak to you?  I have been silent about it so long.  You have brought the
+past back, I know not how, so vividly!  I dream here, I work here; men
+come with merchandise and go again; they only bind my tongue; I am not of
+them: but you are different, as it seems to me, and young.  God gave me a
+happy youth.  My eyes were bright as yours, my heart as fond.  You love--
+is it not so?  Ah, you smile and blush like an honest man.  Well, so much
+the more I can speak now.  God gave me then strength and honour and love
+--blessed be His name!  And then He visited me with sorrow, and, if I
+still mourn, I have peace, too, and a busy life."  Here he looked at the
+sketch again.
+
+"Then I was a soldier.  She was my world.  Ah, true, love is a great
+thing--a great thing!  She had a brother.  They two with their mother
+were alone in the world, and we were to be married.  One day at Gibraltar
+I received a letter from her saying that our marriage could not be; that
+she was going away from England; that those lines were her farewell; and
+that she commended me to the love of Heaven.  Such a letter it was--so
+saintly, so unhappy, so mysterious!  When I could get leave I went to
+England.  She--they--had gone, and none knew whither; or, if any of her
+friends knew, none would speak.  I searched for her everywhere.  At last
+I came to Australia, and I am here, no longer searching, but waiting, for
+there is that above us!"  His lips moved as if in prayer.  "And this is
+all I have left of her, except memory," he said, tenderly touching the
+portrait.
+
+Warmly, yet with discreet sympathy, the young man rejoined: "Sir, I
+respect, and I hope I understand, your confidence."  Then, a little
+nervously: "Might I ask her name?"
+
+The reply was spoken to the portrait: "Barbara--Barbara Golding."
+
+With Louis Bachelor the young squatter approached Wandenong homestead in
+some excitement.  He had said no word to his companion about that Barbara
+Golding who played such a gracious part in the home of the Osgoods.  He
+had arranged the movement of the story to his fancy, but would it occur
+in all as he hoped?  With an amiability that was almost malicious in its
+adroit suggestiveness, though, to be sure, it was honest, he had induced
+the soldier to talk of his past.  His words naturally, and always,
+radiated to the sun, whose image was now hidden, but for whose memory no
+superscription on monument or cenotaph was needed.  Now it was a scrap of
+song, then a tale, and again a verse, by which the old soldier was
+delicately worked upon, until at last, as they entered the paddocks of
+Wandenong, stars and telescopes and even Governments had been forgotten
+in the personal literature of sentiment.
+
+Yet John Osgood was not quite at his ease.  Now that it was at hand, he
+rather shrank from the meeting of these ancient loves.  Apart from all
+else, he knew that no woman's nerves are to be trusted.  He hoped fortune
+would so favour him that he could arrange for the meeting of the two
+alone, or, at least, in his presence only.  He had so far fostered this
+possibility by arriving at the station at nightfall.  What next?  He
+turned and looked at the soldier, a figure out of Hogarth, which even
+dust and travel left unspoiled.  It was certain that the two should meet
+where John Osgood, squatter and romancer, should be prompter, orchestra,
+and audience, and he alone.  Vain lad!
+
+When they drew rein the young man took his companion at once to his own
+detached quarters known as the Barracks, and then proceeded to the house.
+After greetings with his family he sought Barbara Golding, who was in the
+schoolroom, piously employed, Agnes said, in putting the final touches to
+Janet's trousseau.  He went across the square to the schoolroom, and,
+looking through the window, saw that she was quite alone.  A few moments
+later he stood at the schoolroom door with Louis Bachelor.  With his hand
+on the latch he hesitated.  Was it not fairer to give some warning to
+either?  Too late!  He opened the door and they entered.  She was sewing,
+and a book lay open beside her, a faded, but stately little figure whose
+very garments had an air.  She rose, seeing at first only John Osgood,
+who greeted her and then said: "Miss Golding, I have brought you an old
+friend."
+
+Then he stepped back and the two were face to face.  Barbara Golding's
+cheeks became pale, but she did not stir; the soldier, with an
+exclamation of surprise half joyful, half pathetic, took a step forward,
+and then became motionless also.  Their eyes met and stayed intent.  This
+was not quite what the young man had expected.  At length the soldier
+bowed low, and the woman responded gravely.  At this point Osgood
+withdrew to stand guard at the door.
+
+Barbara Golding's eyes were dim with tears.  The soldier gently said,
+"I received--" and then paused.  She raised her eyes to his.  "I received
+a letter from you five-and-twenty years ago."
+
+"Yes, five-and-twenty years ago."
+
+"I hope you cannot guess what pain it gave me."
+
+"Yes," she answered faintly, "I can conceive it, from the pain it gave to
+me."
+
+There was a pause, and then he stepped forward and, holding out his hand,
+said: "Will you permit me?"  He kissed her fingers courteously, and she
+blushed.  "I have waited," he added, "for God to bring this to pass."
+She shook her head sadly, and her eyes sought his beseechingly, as though
+he should spare her; but perhaps he could not see that.
+
+"You spoke of a great obstacle then; has it been removed?"
+
+"It is still between us," she murmured.
+
+"Is it likely ever to vanish?"
+
+"I--I do not know."
+
+"You can not tell me what it is?"
+
+"Oh, you will not ask me," she pleaded.
+
+He was silent a moment, then spoke.  "Might I dare to hope, Barbara, that
+you still regard me with--" he hesitated.
+
+The fires of a modest valour fluttered in her cheeks, and she pieced out
+his sentence: "With all my life's esteem."  But she was a woman, and she
+added: "But I am not young now, and I am very poor."
+
+"Barbara," he said; "I am not rich and I am old; but you, you have not
+changed; you are beautiful, as you always were."
+
+The moment was crucial.  He stepped towards her, but her eyes held him
+back.  He hoped that she would speak, but she only smiled sadly.  He
+waited, but, in the waiting, hope faded, and he only said, at last, in a
+voice of new resolve grown out of dead expectancy: "Your brother--is he
+well?"
+
+"I hope so," she somewhat painfully replied.  "Is he in Australia?"
+
+"Yes.  I have not seen him for years, but he is here."  As if a thought
+had suddenly come to him, he stepped nearer, and made as if he would
+speak; but the words halted on his lips, and he turned away again.  She
+glided to his side and touched his arm.  "I am glad that you trust me,"
+she faltered.
+
+"There is no more that need be said," he answered.  And now, woman-like,
+denying, she pitied, too.  "If I ever can, shall--shall I send for you
+to tell you all?" she murmured.
+
+"You remember I told you that the world had but one place for me, and
+that was by your side; that where you are, Barbara--"
+
+"Hush, oh hush!" she interrupted gently.  "Yes, I remember everything."
+
+"There is no power can alter what is come of Heaven," he said, smiling
+faintly.
+
+She looked with limpid eyes upon him as he bowed over her hand, and she
+spoke with a sweet calm: "God be with you, Louis."
+
+Strange as it may seem, John Osgood did not tell his sisters and his
+family of this romance which he had brought to the vivid close of a first
+act.  He felt the more so because Louis Bachelor had said no word about
+it, but had only pressed his hand again and again--that he was somehow
+put upon his honour, and he thought it a fine thing to stand on a
+platform of unspoken compact with this gentleman of a social school
+unfamiliar to him; from which it may be seen that cattle-breeding and
+bullock-driving need not make a man a boor.  What his sisters guessed
+when they found that Barbara Golding and the visitor were old friends is
+another matter; but they could not pierce their brother's reserve on the
+point.
+
+No one at Wandenong saw the parting between the two when Louis Bachelor,
+his task with the telescope ended, left again for the coast; but indeed
+it might have been seen by all men, so outwardly formal was it, even as
+their brief conversations had been since they met again.  But is it not
+known by those who look closely upon the world that there is nothing so
+tragic as the formal?
+
+John Osgood accompanied his friend to the sea, but the name of Barbara
+Golding was not mentioned, nor was any reference made to her until the
+moment of parting.  Then the elder man said: "Sir, your consideration and
+delicacy of feeling have moved me, and touched her.  We have not been
+blind to your singular kindness of heart and courtesy, and--God bless
+you, my friend!"
+
+On his way back to Wandenong, Osgood heard exciting news of Roadmaster.
+The word had been passed among the squatters who had united to avenge
+Finchley's death that the bushranger was to be shot on sight, that he
+should not be left to the uncertainty of the law.  The latest exploit of
+the daring freebooter had been to stop on the plains two members of a
+Royal Commission of Inquiry.  He had relieved them of such money as was
+in their pockets, and then had caused them to write sumptuous cheques on
+their banks, payable to bearer.  These he had cashed in the very teeth of
+the law, and actually paused in the street to read a description of
+himself posted on a telegraph-pole.  "Inaccurate, quite inaccurate," he
+said to a by-stander as he drew his riding-whip slowly along it, and
+then, mounting his horse, rode leisurely away into the plains.  Had he
+been followed it would have been seen that he directed his course to that
+point in the horizon where Wandenong lay, and held to it.
+
+It would not perhaps have been pleasant to Agnes Osgood had she known
+that, as she hummed a song under a she-oak, a mile away from the
+homestead, a man was watching her from a clump of scrub near by; a man
+who, however gentlemanly his bearing, had a face where the devil of
+despair had set his foot, and who carried in his pocket more than one
+weapon of inhospitable suggestion.  But the man intended no harm to her,
+for, while she sang, something seemed to smooth away the active evil of
+his countenance, and to dispel a threatening alertness that marked the
+whole personality.
+
+Three hours later this same man crouched by the drawing-room window of
+the Wandenong homestead and looked in, listening to the same voice, until
+Barbara Golding entered the room and took a seat near the piano, with her
+face turned full towards him.  Then he forgot the music and looked long
+at the face, and at last rose, and stole silently to where his horse was
+tied in the scrub.  He mounted, and turning towards the house muttered:
+"A little more of this, and good-bye to my nerves!  But it's pleasant to
+have the taste of it in my mouth for a minute.  How would it look in
+Roadmaster's biography, that a girl just out of school brought the rain
+to his eyes?"  He laughed a little bitterly, and then went on: "Poor
+Barbara!  She mustn't know while I'm alive.  Stretch out, my nag; we've
+a long road to travel to-night."
+
+This was Edward Golding, the brother whom Barbara thought was still in
+prison at Sydney under another name, serving a term of ten years for
+manslaughter.  If she had read the papers more carefully she would have
+known that he had been released two years before his time was up.  It was
+eight years since she had seen him.  Twice since then she had gone to
+visit him, but he would not see her.  Bad as he had been, his desire was
+still strong that the family name should not be publicly reviled.  At his
+trial his real name had not been made known; and at his request his
+sister sent him no letters.  Going into gaol a reckless man he came out a
+constitutional criminal; with the natural instinct for crime greater than
+the instinct for morality.  He turned bushranger for one day, to get
+money to take him out of the country; but having once entered the lists
+he left them no more, and, playing at deadly joust with the law, soon
+became known as Roadmaster, the most noted bushranger since the days of
+Captain Starlight.
+
+It was forgery on the name of his father's oldest friend that had driven
+him from England.  He had the choice of leaving his native land for ever
+or going to prison, and he chose the former.  The sorrow of the crime
+killed his mother.  From Adelaide, where he and Barbara had made their
+new home, he wandered to the far interior and afterwards to Sydney; then
+came his imprisonment on a charge of manslaughter, and now he was free-
+but what a freedom!
+
+With the name of Roadmaster often heard at Wandenong, Barbara Golding's
+heart had no warning instinct of who the bushranger was.  She thought
+only and continuously of the day when her brother should be released, to
+begin the race of life again with her.  She had yet to learn in what
+manner they come to the finish who make a false start.
+
+Louis Bachelor, again in his place Rahway, tried to drive away his
+guesses at the truth by his beloved science.  When sleep would not come
+at night he rose and worked in his laboratory; and the sailors of many a
+passing vessel saw the light of his lamp in the dim hours before dawn,
+and spoke of fever in the port of Rahway.  Nor did they speak without
+reason; fever was preparing a victim for the sacrifice at Rahway, and
+Louis Bachelor was fed with its poison till he grew haggard and weak.
+
+One night he was sending his weather prognostications to Brisbane, when
+a stranger entered from the shore.  The old man did not at first look up,
+and the other leisurely studied him as the sounder clicked its message.
+When the key was closed the new-comer said: "Can you send a message to
+Brisbane for me?"
+
+"It is after hours; I cannot," was the reply.  "But you were just sending
+one."
+
+"That was official," and the elder man passed his hand wearily along his
+forehead.  He was very pale.  The other drew the telegraph-forms towards
+him and wrote on one, saying as he did so: "My business is important;"
+then handing over what he had written, and, smiling ironically, added:
+"Perhaps you will consider that official."
+
+Louis Bachelor took the paper and read as follows: To the Colonial
+Secretary, Brisbane.  I am here tonight; to-morrow find me.  Roadmaster."
+He read it twice before he fully comprehended it.  Then he said, as if
+awakening from a dream: "You are--"
+
+"I am Roadmaster," said the other.
+
+But now the soldier and official in the other were awake.  He drew
+himself up, and appeared to measure his visitor as a swordsman would his
+enemy.  "What is your object in coming here?" he asked.
+
+"For you to send that message if you choose.  That you may arrest me
+peaceably if you wish; or there are men at The Angel's Rest and a
+Chinaman or two here who might care for active service against
+Roadmaster."  He laughed carelessly.
+
+"Am I to understand that you give yourself up to me?"
+
+"Yes, to you, Louis Bachelor, Justice of the Peace, to do what you will
+with for this night," was the reply.  The soldier's hands trembled, but
+it was from imminent illness, not from fear or excitement.  He came
+slowly towards the bushranger who, smiling, said as he advanced: "Yes,
+arrest me!"
+
+Louis Bachelor raised his hand, as though to lay it on the shoulder of
+the other; but something in the eyes of the highwayman stayed his hand.
+
+"Proceed, Captain Louis Bachelor," said Roadmaster in a changed tone.
+
+The hand fell to the old man's side.  "Who are you?" he faintly
+exclaimed.  "I know you yet I cannot quite remember."
+
+More and more the voice and manner of the outlaw altered as he replied
+with mocking bitterness: "I was Edward Golding, gentleman; I became
+Edward Golding, forger; I am Roadmaster, convicted of manslaughter, and
+bushranger."
+
+The old man's state was painful to see.  "You--you--that, Edward!" he
+uttered brokenly.
+
+"All that.  Will you arrest me now?"
+
+"I--cannot."
+
+The bushranger threw aside all bravado and irony, and said: "I knew you
+could not.  Why did I come?  Listen--but first, will you shelter me here
+to-night?"
+
+The soldier's honourable soul rose up against this thing, but he said
+slowly at last: "If it is to save you from peril, yes."
+
+Roadmaster laughed a little and rejoined: "By God, sir, you're a man!
+But it isn't likely that I'd accept it of you, is it?  You've had it
+rough enough, without my putting a rock in your swag that would spoil you
+for the rest of the tramp.  You see, I've even forgotten how to talk like
+a gentleman.  And now, sir, I want to show you, for Barbara's sake, my
+dirty logbook."
+
+Here he told the tale of his early sin and all that came of it.  When he
+had finished the story he spoke of Barbara again.  "She didn't want to
+disgrace you, you understand," he said.  "You were at Wandenong; I know
+that, never mind how.  She'd marry you if I were out of the way.  Well,
+I'm going to be out of the way.  I'm going to leave this country, and
+she's to think I'm dead, you see."
+
+At this point Louis Bachelor swayed, and would have fallen, but that the
+bushranger's arms were thrown round him and helped him to a chair.  "I'm
+afraid that I am ill," he said; "call Gongi.  Ah!" He had fainted.
+
+The bushranger carried him to a bed, and summoned Gongi and the woman
+from the tavern, and in another hour was riding away through the valley
+of the Popri.  Before thirty-six hours had passed a note was delivered to
+a station-hand at Wandenong addressed to Barbara Golding, and signed by
+the woman from The Angel's Rest.  Within another two days Barbara Golding
+was at the bedside of Captain Louis Bachelor, battling with an enemy that
+is so often stronger than love and always kinder than shame.
+
+In his wanderings the sick man was ever with his youth and early manhood,
+and again and again he uttered Barbara's name in caressing or entreaty;
+though it was the Barbara of far-off days that he invoked; the present
+one he did not know.  But the night in which the crisis, the fortunate
+crisis, of the fever occurred, he talked of a great flood coming from the
+North, and in his half-delirium bade them send to headquarters, and
+mournfully muttered of drowned plantations and human peril.  Was this
+instinct and knowledge working through the disordered fancies of fever?
+Or was it mere coincidence that the next day a great storm and flood did
+sweep through the valley of the Popri, putting life in danger and
+submerging plantations?
+
+It was on this day that Roadmaster found himself at bay in the mangrove
+swamp not far from the port of Rahway, where he had expected to find a
+schooner to take him to the New Hebrides.  It had been arranged for by a
+well-paid colleague in crime; but the storm had delayed the schooner, and
+the avenging squatters and bushmen were closing in on him at last.  There
+was flood behind him in the valley, a foodless swamp on the left of him,
+open shore and jungle on the right, the swollen sea before him; and the
+only avenue of escape closed by Blood Finchley's friends.  He had been
+eluding his pursuers for days with little food and worse than no sleep.
+He knew that he had played his last card and lost; but he had one thing
+yet to do, that which even the vilest do, if they can, before they pay
+the final penalty--to creep back for a moment into their honest past,
+however dim and far away.  With incredible skill he had passed under the
+very rifles of his hunters, and now stood almost within the stream of
+light which came from the window of the sick man's room, where his sister
+was.  There was to be no more hiding, no more strategy.  He told Gongi
+and another that he was Roadmaster, and bade them say to his pursuers,
+should they appear, that he would come to them upon the shore when his
+visit to Louis Bachelor, whom he had known in other days, was over,
+indicating the place at some distance from the house where they would
+find him.
+
+He entered the house.  The noise of the opening door brought his sister
+to the room.
+
+At last she said: "Oh, Edward, you are free at last!"
+
+"Yes, I am free at last," he quietly replied.
+
+"I have always prayed for you, Edward, and for this."
+
+"I know that, Barbara; but prayer cannot do anything, can it?  You see,
+though I was born a gentleman, I had a bad strain in me.  I wonder if,
+somewhere, generations back, there was a pirate or a gipsy in our
+family."  He had been going to say highwayman, but paused in time.
+"I always intended to be good and always ended by being bad.  I wanted to
+be of the angels and play with the devils also.  I liked saints--you are
+a saint, Barbara--but I loved all sinners too.  I hope when--when I die,
+that the little bit of good that's in me will go where you are.  For the
+rest of me, it must be as it may."
+
+"Don't speak like that, Edward, please, dear.  Yes, you have been wicked,
+but you have been punished, oh, those long, long years!"
+
+"I've lost a great slice of life by both the stolen waters and the rod,
+but I'm going to reform now, Barbara."
+
+"You are going to reform?  Oh, I knew you would!  God has answered my
+prayer."  Her eyes lighted.
+
+He did not speak at once, for his ears, keener than hers, were listening
+to a confused sound of voices coming from the shore.  At length he spoke
+firmly: "Yes, I'm going to reform, but it's on one condition."
+
+Her eyes mutely asked a question, and he replied: "That you marry him,"
+pointing to the inner room, "if he lives."
+
+"He will live, but I--I cannot tell him, Edward," she sadly said.
+
+"He knows."
+
+"He knows!  Did you dare to tell him?"  It was the lover, not the sister,
+who spoke then.
+
+"Yes.  And he knows also that I'm going to reform--that I'm going away."
+
+Her face was hid in her hand.  "And I kept it from him five-and-twenty
+years!  .  .  .  Where are you going, Edward?"
+
+"To the Farewell Islands," he slowly replied.
+
+And she, thinking he meant some island group in the Pacific, tearfully
+inquired: "Are they far away?"
+
+"Yes, very far away, my girl."
+
+"But you will write to me or come to see me again--you will come to see
+me again, sometimes, Edward?"
+
+He paused.  He knew not at first what to reply, but at length he said,
+with a strangely determined flash of his dark eyes: "Yes, Barbara, I will
+come to see you again--if I can."  He stooped and kissed her.  "Goodbye,
+Barbara."
+
+"But, Edward, must you go to-night?"
+
+"Yes, I must go now.  They are waiting for me.  Good-bye."
+
+She would have stayed him but he put her gently back, and she said
+plaintively: "God keep you, Edward.  Remember you said that you would
+come again to me."
+
+"I shall remember," he said quietly, and he was gone.  Standing in the
+light from the window of the sick man's room he wrote a line in Latin on
+a slip of paper, begging of Louis Bachelor the mercy of silence, and gave
+it to Gongi, who whispered that he was surrounded.  This he knew; he had
+not studied sounds in prison through the best years of his life for
+nothing.  He asked Gongi to give the note to his master when he was
+better, and when it could be done unseen of any one.  Then he turned and
+walked coolly towards the shore.
+
+A few minutes later he lay upon a heap of magnolia branches breathing his
+life away.  At the same moment of time that a rough but kindly hand
+closed the eyes of the bushranger, the woman from The Angel's Rest and
+Louis Bachelor saw the pale face of Roadmaster peer through the bedroom
+window at Barbara Golding sitting in a chair asleep; and she started and
+said through her half-wakefulness, looking at the window: "Where are you
+going, Edward?"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE LONE CORVETTE
+
+     "And God shall turn upon them violently, and toss them like a ball
+     into a large country."--ISAIH.
+
+"Poor Ted, poor Ted!  I'd give my commission to see him once again."
+
+"I believe you would, Debney."
+
+"I knew him to the last button of his nature, and any one who knew him
+well could never think hardly of him.  There were five of us brothers,
+and we all worshipped him.  He could run rings round us in everything,
+at school, with sports, in the business of life, in love."
+
+Debney's voice fell with the last few words, and there was a sorrowful
+sort of smile on his face.  His look was fastened on the Farilone
+Islands, which lay like a black, half-closed eyelid across the disc of
+the huge yellow sun, as it sank in the sky straight out from the Golden
+Gate.  The long wash of the Pacific was in their ears at their left,
+behind them was the Presidio, from which they had come after a visit to
+the officers, and before them was the warm, inviting distance of waters,
+which lead, as all men know, to the Lotos Isles.
+
+Debney sighed and shook his head.  "He was, by nature, the ablest man I
+ever knew.  Everything in the world interested him."
+
+"There lay the trouble, perhaps."
+
+"Nowhere else.  All his will was with the wholesome thing, but his brain,
+his imagination were always hunting.  He was the true adventurer at the
+start.  That was it, Mostyn."
+
+"He found the forbidden thing more interesting than--the other?"
+
+"Quite so.  Unless a thing was really interesting, stood out, as it were,
+he had no use for it--nor for man nor woman."
+
+"Lady Folingsby, for instance."
+
+"Do you know, Mostyn, that even to-day, whenever she meets me, I can see
+one question in her eyes: 'Where is he?'  Always, always that.  He found
+life and people so interesting that he couldn't help but be interesting
+himself.  Whatever he was, I never knew a woman speak ill of him. . . .
+Once a year there comes to me a letter from an artist girl in Paris,
+written in language that gets into my eyes.  There is always the one
+refrain: 'He will return some day.  Say to him that I do not forget.'"
+
+"Whatever his faults, he was too big to be anything but kind to a woman,
+was Ted."
+
+"I remember the day when his resignation was so promptly accepted by
+the Admiralty.  He walked up to the Admiral--Farquhar it was, on the
+Bolingbroke--and said: 'Admiral, if I'd been in your place I'd have done
+the same.  I ought to resign, and I have.  Yet if I had to do it over
+again, I'd be the same.  I don't repent.  I'm out of the Navy now, and it
+doesn't make any difference what I say, so I'll have my preachment out.
+If I were Admiral Farquhar, and you were Edward Debney, ex-commander, I'd
+say: "Debney, you're a damned good fellow and a damned bad officer."'
+
+"The Admiral liked Edward, in spite of all, better than any man in the
+Squadron, for Ted's brains were worth those of any half-dozen officers
+he had.  He simply choked, and then, before the whole ship, dropped
+both hands on his shoulders, and said: 'Debney, you're a damned good
+fellow and a damned bad officer, and I wish to God you were a damned bad
+fellow and a damned good officer--for then there were no need to part.'
+At that they parted.  But as Edward was leaving, the Admiral came forward
+again, and said: 'Where are you going, Debney?'  'I'm going nowhere,
+sir,' Ted answered.  'I'm being tossed into strange waters--a lone
+corvette of no squadron.'  He stopped, smiled, and then said--it was so
+like him, for, with all his wildness, he had the tastes of a student:
+'You remember that passage in Isaiah, sir, "And God shall turn upon them
+violently, and toss them like a ball into a large country"?'
+
+"There wasn't a man but had a kind thought for him as he left, and
+there was rain in the eyes of more than one A.B.  Well, from that day he
+disappeared, and no one has seen him since.  God knows where he is; but
+I was thinking, as I looked out there to the setting sun, that his wild
+spirit would naturally turn to the South, for civilised places had no
+charm for him."
+
+"I never knew quite why he had to leave the Navy."
+
+"He opened fire on a French frigate off Tahiti which was boring holes in
+an opium smuggler."
+
+Mostyn laughed.  "Of course; and how like Ted it was--an instinct to side
+with the weakest."
+
+"Yes, coupled with the fact that the Frenchman's act was mere brutality,
+and had not sufficient motive or justification.  So Ted pitched into
+him."
+
+"Did the smuggler fly the British flag?"
+
+"No, the American; and it was only the intervention of the United States
+which prevented serious international trouble.  Out of the affair came
+Ted a shipwreck."
+
+"Have you never got on his track?"
+
+"Once I thought I had at Singapore, but nothing came of it.  No doubt he
+changed his name.  He never asked for, never got, the legacy my poor
+father left him."
+
+"What was it made you think you had come across him at Singapore?"
+
+"Oh, certain significant things."
+
+"What was he doing?"
+
+Debney looked at his old friend for a moment debatingly, then said
+quietly: "Slave-dealing, and doing it successfully, under the noses of
+men-of-war of all nations."
+
+"But you decided it was not he after all?"
+
+"I doubted.  If Ted came to that, he would do it in a very big way.  It
+would appeal to him on some grand scale, with real danger and, say, a few
+scores of thousands of pounds at stake--not unless."
+
+Mostyn lit a cigar, and, thrusting his hands into his pockets, regarded
+the scene before him with genial meditation--the creamy wash of the sea
+at their feet, the surface of the water like corrugated silver stretching
+to the farther sky, with that long lane of golden light crossing it to
+the sun, Alcatras, Angel Island, Saucilito, the rocky fortresses, and the
+men-of-war in the harbour, on one of which flew the British ensign--the
+Cormorant, commanded by Debney.
+
+"Poor Ted!" said Mostyn at last; "he might have been anything."
+
+"Let us get back to the Cormorant," responded Debney sadly.  "And see,
+old chap, when you get back to England, I wish you'd visit my mother for
+me, for I shall not see her for another year, and she's always anxious--
+always since Ted left."
+
+Mostyn grasped the other's hand, and said: "It's the second thing I'll do
+on landing, my boy."
+
+Then they talked of other things, but as they turned at the Presidio for
+a last look at the Golden Gate, Mostyn said musingly: "I wonder how many
+millions' worth of smuggled opium have come in that open door?"
+
+Debney shrugged a shoulder.  "Try Nob Hill, Fifth Avenue, and the Champs
+Elysees.  What does a poor man-o'-war's-man know of such things?"
+
+An hour later they were aboard the Cormorant dining with a number of men
+asked to come and say good-bye to Mostyn, who was starting for England
+the second day following, after a pleasant cruise with Debney.
+
+Meanwhile, from far beyond that yellow lane of light running out from
+Golden Gate, there came a vessel, sailing straight for harbour.  She was
+an old-fashioned cruiser, carrying guns, and when she passed another
+vessel she hoisted the British flag.  She looked like a half-obsolete
+corvette, spruced up, made modern by every possible device, and all her
+appointments were shapely and in order.  She was clearly a British man-
+of-war, as shown in her trim-dressed sailors, her good handful of
+marines; but her second and third lieutenants seemed little like
+Englishmen.  There was gun-drill and cutlass-drill every day, and, what
+was also singular, there was boat-drill twice a day, so that the crew of
+this man-of-war, as they saw Golden Gate ahead of them, were perhaps more
+expert at boat-drill than any that sailed.  They could lower and raise a
+boat with a wonderful expertness in a bad sea, and they rowed with clock-
+like precision and machine-like force.
+
+Their general discipline did credit to the British Navy.  But they were
+not given to understand that by their Commander, Captain Shewell, who had
+an eye like a spot of steel and a tongue like aloes or honey as the mood
+was on him.  It was clear that he took his position seriously, for he was
+as rigid and exact in etiquette as an admiral of the old school, and his
+eye was as keen for his officers as for his men; and that might have
+seemed strange too, if one had seen him two years before commanding a
+schooner with a roving commission in the South Seas.  Then he was more
+genial of eye and less professional of face.  Here he could never be
+mistaken for anything else than the commander of a man-of-war--it was in
+his legs, in the shoulder he set to the wind, in the tone of his orders,
+in his austere urbanity to his officers.  Yet there was something else in
+his eye, in his face, which all this professionalism could not hide, even
+when he was most professional--some elusive, subterranean force or
+purpose.
+
+This was most noticeable when he was shut away from the others in his
+cabin.  Then his whole body seemed to change.  The eye became softer, and
+yet full of a sort of genial devilry, the body had a careless alertness
+and elasticity, the whole man had the athletic grace of a wild animal,
+and his face had a hearty sort of humour, which the slightly-lifting lip,
+in its insolent disdain, could not greatly modify.  He certainly seemed
+well pleased with himself, and more than once, as he sat alone, he
+laughed outright, and once he said aloud, as his fingers ran up and down
+a schedule--not a man-o'-war's schedule--laughing softly:
+
+"Poor old Farquhar, if he could see me now!"  Then, to himself: "Well, as
+I told him, I was violently tossed like a ball into the large country;
+and I've had a lot of adventure and sport.  But here's something more
+the biggest game ever played between nations by a private person--with
+fifty thousand pounds as the end thereof, if all goes well with my lone
+corvette."
+
+The next evening, just before dusk, after having idled about out of sight
+of the signal station nearly all day, Captain Shewell entered Golden Gate
+with the Hornet-of no squadron.  But the officers at the signal station
+did not know that, and simply telegraphed to the harbour, in reply to the
+signals from the corvette, that a British man-of-war was coming.  She
+came leisurely up the bay, with Captain Shewell on the bridge.  He gave a
+low whistle as he saw the Cormorant in the distance.  He knew the harbour
+well, and saw that the Cormorant had gone to a new anchorage, not the
+same as British men-of-war took formerly.  He drew away to the old
+anchorage--he need not be supposed to know that a change was expected;
+besides--and this was important to Captain Shewell--the old anchorage
+was near the docks; and it was clear, save for one little life-boat
+and a schooner which was making out as he came up.
+
+As the Hornet came to anchor the Cormorant saluted her, and she replied
+instantly.  Customs officers who were watching the craft from the shore
+or from their boats put down their marine glasses contentedly when they
+saw and heard the salutes.  But two went out to the Hornet, were received
+graciously by Captain Shewell, who, over a glass of wine in his cabin-
+appropriately hung with pictures of Nelson and Collingwood--said that he
+was proceeding to Alaska to rescue a crew shipwrecked which had taken
+refuge on a barren island, and that he was leaving the next day as soon
+as he could get some coal; though he feared it would be difficult coaling
+up that night.  He did not need a great deal, he said--which was, indeed,
+the case--but he did need some, and for the Hornet's safety he must have
+it.  After this, with cheerful compliments, and the perfunctory
+declaration on his part that there was nothing dutiable on board, the
+officers left him, greatly pleased with his courtesy, saluted by the
+sailors standing at the gangway as they left the ship's side.  The
+officers did not notice that one of these sailors winked an eye at
+another, and that both then grinned, and were promptly ordered aft by the
+second lieutenant.
+
+As soon as it was very dark two or three boats pushed out from the
+Hornet, and rowed swiftly to shore, passing a Customs boat as they went,
+which was saluted by the officers in command.  After this, boats kept
+passing backward and forward for a long time between the Hornet and the
+shore, which was natural, seeing that a first night in port is a sort of
+holiday for officers and men.  If these sailors had been watched closely,
+however, it would have been seen that they visited but few saloons on
+shore, and drank little, and then evidently as a blind.  Close watching
+would also have discovered the fact that there were a few people on shore
+who were glad to see the safe arrival of the Hornet, and who, about one
+o'clock in the morning, almost fell on the neck of Captain Shewell as
+they bade him good bye.  Then, for the rest of the night, coal was
+carried out to the Hornet in boats and barges.
+
+By daybreak her coal was aboard, then came cleaning up, and preparations
+to depart.  Captain Shewell's eye was now much on the Cormorant.  He had
+escaped one danger, he had landed half a million dollars' worth of opium
+in the night, under the very nose of the law, and while Customs boats
+were patrolling the bay; there was another danger--the inquisitiveness of
+the Cormorant.  It was etiquette for him to call upon the captain of the
+Cormorant, and he ought to have done so the evening before, but he had
+not dared to run the risk, nor could he venture this morning.  And yet if
+the Cormorant discovered that the Hornet was not a British man-of-war,
+but a bold and splendid imposture, made possible by a daring ex-officer
+of the British Navy, she might open fire, and he could make but a sorry
+fight, for he was equipped for show rather than for deadly action.  He
+had got this ex-British man-of-war two years before, purchased in Brazil
+by two adventurous spirits in San Francisco, had selected his crew
+carefully, many of them deserters from the British Navy, drilled them,
+and at last made this bold venture under the teeth of a fortress, and at
+the mouth of a warship's guns.
+
+Just as he was lifting anchor to get away, he saw a boat shoot out from
+the side of the Cormorant.  Captain Debney, indignant at the lack of
+etiquette, and a little suspicious also now--for there was no Hornet in
+the Pacific Squadron, though there was a Hornet, he knew, in the China
+Squadron--was coming to visit the discourteous commander.
+
+He was received with the usual formalities, and was greeted at once by
+Captain Shewell.  As the eyes of the two men met both started, but
+Captain Debney was most shaken.  He turned white, and put out his hand to
+the bulwark to steady himself.  But Captain Shewell held the hand that
+had been put out; shook it, pressed it.  He tried to urge Captain Debney
+forward, but the other drew back to the gangway.
+
+"Pull yourself together, Dick, or there'll be a mess," said Shewell
+softly.
+
+"My God, how could you do it?" replied his brother aghast.
+
+Meanwhile the anchor had been raised, and the Hornet was moving towards
+the harbour mouth.  "You have ruined us both," said Richard Debney.
+"Neither, Dick!  I'll save your bacon."  He made a sign, the gangway was
+closed, he gave the word for full steam ahead, and the Hornet began to
+race through the water before Captain Debney guessed his purpose.
+
+"What do you mean to do?" he asked sternly, as he saw his own gig
+falling astern.
+
+"To make it hard for you to blow me to pieces.  You've got to do it, of
+course, if you can, but I must get a start."
+
+"How far do you intend carrying me?"
+
+"To the Farilones, perhaps."
+
+Richard Debney's face had a sick look.  "Take me to your cabin," he
+whispered.
+
+What was said behind the closed door no man in this world knows, and it
+is well not to listen too closely to those who part, knowing that they
+will never meet again.  They had been children in the one mother's arms;
+there was nothing in common between them now except that ancient love.
+
+Nearing the Farilones, Captain Debney was put off in an open boat.
+Standing there alone, he was once more a naval officer, and he called out
+sternly: "Sir, I hope to sink you and your smuggling craft within four-
+and-twenty hours!"
+
+Captain Shewell spoke no word, but saluted deliberately, and watched his
+brother's boat recede, till it was a speck upon the sea, as it moved
+towards Golden Gate.
+
+"Good old Dick!" he said at last, as he turned away toward the bridge.
+"And he'll do it, if he can!"
+
+But he never did, for as the Cormorant cleared the harbour that evening
+there came an accident to her machinery, and with two days' start the
+Hornet was on her way to be sold again to a South American Republic.
+
+And Edward Debney, once her captain?  What does it matter?
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Answered, with the indifference of despair
+Mystery is dear to a woman's heart
+Never looked to get an immense amount of happiness out of life
+There is nothing so tragic as the formal
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CUMNER'S SON AND OTHER SOUTH SEA FOLK
+
+by Gilbert Parker
+
+Volume 4.
+
+
+A SABLE SPARTAN
+A VULGAR FRACTION
+HOW PANGO WANGO WAS ANNEXED
+AN AMIABLE REVENGE
+THE BLIND BEGGAR AND THE LITTLE RED PEG
+A FRIEND OF THE COMMUNE
+
+
+
+
+A SABLE SPARTAN
+
+Lady Tynemouth was interested; his Excellency was amused.  The interest
+was real, the amusement was not ironical.  Blithelygo, seeing that he
+had at least excited the attention of the luncheon party, said half-
+apologetically: "Of course my experience is small, but in many parts
+of the world I have been surprised to see how uniform revolutionises
+the savage.  Put him into Convention, that is clothes, give him
+Responsibility, that is a chance to exercise vanity and power, and you
+make him a Britisher--a good citizen to all intents and purposes."
+
+Blithelygo was a clever fellow in his way.  He had a decided instinct for
+military matters, and for good cigars and pretty women.  Yet he would
+rather give up both than an idea which had got firmly fixed in his mind.
+He was very deferential in his remarks, but at the same time he was quite
+willing to go into a minority which might not include pretty Miss Angel
+who sat beside him, if he was not met by conclusive good arguments.
+
+In the slight pause which followed his rather long speech, his Excellency
+passed the champagne cup, and Lady Tynemouth said: "But I suppose it
+depends somewhat on the race, doesn't it, Mr. Travers?  I am afraid mere
+uniforming would scarcely work successfully--among the Bengalese, for
+instance."
+
+"A wretched crew," said Major Warham; "awful liars, awful scoundrels,
+need kicking every morning."
+
+"Of course," said Blithelygo, "there must be some consideration of race.
+But look at the Indian Mutiny.  Though there was revolt, look at those
+who 'fought with us faithful and few'; look at the fidelity of the
+majority of the native servants.  Look at the native mounted police in
+Australia; at the Sikhs in the Settlements and the Native States; at the
+Indian scouts of the United States and Canada; and look at these very
+Indian troops at your door, your Excellency!  I think my principle holds
+good; give uniform, give responsibility--under European surveillance of
+course--get British civilisation."
+
+His Excellency's eyes had been wandering out of the window, over the
+white wall and into the town where Arabia, India, Africa, the Islands of
+the South and Palestine were blended in a quivering, radiant panorama.
+Then they rose until they fell upon Jebel Shamsan, in its intoxicating
+red and opal far away, and upon the frowning and mighty rampart that
+makes Aden one of the most impregnable stations of the Empire.  The
+amusement in his eyes had died away; and as he dipped his fingers in the
+water at his side and motioned for a quickening of the punkahs, he said:
+"There is force in what you say.  It would be an unpleasant look-out for
+us here and in many parts of the world if we could not place reliance on
+the effect of uniform; but"--and the amused look came again to his eyes--
+"we somehow get dulled to the virtues of Indian troops and Somauli
+policemen.  We can't get perspective, you see."
+
+Blithelygo good-naturedly joined in the laugh that went round the table;
+for nearly all there had personal experience of "uniformed savages."
+As the ladies rose Miss Angel said naively to Blithelygo: "You ought to
+spend a month in Aden, Mr. Blithelygo.  Don't go by the next boat, then
+you can study uniforms here."
+
+We settled down to our cigars.  Major Warham was an officer from Bombay.
+He had lived in India for twenty years: long enough to be cynical of
+justice at the Horse Guards or at the India Office: to become in fact
+bitter against London, S.W., altogether.  It was he that proposed a walk
+through the town.
+
+The city lay sleepy and listless beneath a proud and distant sky of
+changeless blue.  Idly sat the Arabs on the benches outside the low-
+roofed coffee-houses; lazily worked the makers of ornaments in the
+bazaars; yawningly pounded the tinkers; greedily ate the children; the
+city was cloyed with ease.  Warham, Blithelygo and myself sat in the
+evening sun surrounded by gold-and-scarlet bedizened gentry of the
+desert, and drank strong coffee and smoked until we too were satisfied,
+if not surfeited; animals like the rest.  Silence fell on us.  This was a
+new life to two of us; to Warham it was familiar, therefore comfortable
+and soporific.  I leaned back and languidly scanned the scene; eyes
+halfshut, senses half-awake.  An Arab sheikh passed swiftly with his
+curtained harem; and then went filing by in orderly and bright array a
+number of Mahommedans, the first of them bearing on a cushion of red
+velvet, and covered with a cloth of scarlet and gold, a dead child to
+burial.  Down from the colossal tanks built in the mountain gorges that
+were old when Mahomet was young, there came donkeys bearing great
+leathern bottles such as the Israelites carried in their forty years'
+sojourning.  A long line of swaying camels passed dustily to the desert
+that burns even into this city of Aden, built on a volcano; groups of
+Somaulis, lithe and brawny, moved chattering here and there; and a
+handful of wandering horsemen, with spears and snowy garments, were being
+swallowed up in the mountain defiles.
+
+The day had been long, the coffee and cigarettes had been heavy, and we
+dozed away in the sensuous atmosphere.  Then there came, as if in a
+dream, a harsh and far-off murmur of voices.  It grew from a murmur to a
+sharp cry, and from a sharp cry to a roar of rage.  In a moment we were
+on our feet, and dashing away toward the sound.
+
+The sight that greeted us was a strange one, and horribly picturesque.
+In front of a low-roofed house of stone was a crowd of Mahommedans fierce
+with anger and loud in imprecation.  Knives were flashing; murder was
+afoot.  There stood, with his back to the door of the house, a Somauli
+policeman, defending himself against this raging little mob.  Not
+defending himself alone.  Within the house he had thrust a wretched Jew,
+who had defiled a Mahommedan mosque; and he was here protecting him
+against these nervous champions of the faith.
+
+Once, twice, thrice, they reached him; but he fought on with his
+unwounded arm.  We were unarmed and helpless; no Somaulis were near.
+Death glittered in these white blades.  But must this Spartan die?
+
+Now there was another cry, a British cheer, a gleam of blue and red, a
+glint of steel rounding the corner at our left, and the Mahommedans broke
+away, with a parting lunge at the Somauli.  British soldiers took the
+place of the bloodthirsty mob.
+
+Danger over, the Somauli sank down on the threshold, fainting from loss
+of blood.  As we looked at him gashed all over, but not mortally wounded,
+Blithelygo said with glowing triumph: "British, British, you see!"
+
+At that moment the door of the house opened, and out crawled to the feet
+of the officer in command the miserable Israelite with his red hemmed
+skirt and greasy face.  For this cowardly creature the Somauli policeman
+had perilled his life.  Sublime!  How could we help thinking of the talk
+at his Excellency's table?
+
+Suddenly the Somauli started up and looked round anxiously.  His eyes
+fell on the Jew.  His countenance grew peaceful.  He sank back again into
+the arms of the surgeon and said, pointing to the son of Abraham: "He owe
+me for a donkey."
+
+Major Warham looking at Blithelygo said with a chilled kind of lustre to
+his voice: "British, so British, don't you know!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A VULGAR FRACTION
+
+Sometimes when, like Mirza, I retire to my little Hill of Bagdad for
+meditation, there comes before me the bright picture of Hawaii with its
+coral-bulwarked islands and the memory of an idle sojourn on their
+shores.  I remember the rainbow-coloured harbour of Honolulu Hilo, the
+simply joyous Arcadie at the foot of Mauna Loa, and Mauna Kea which
+lifted violet shoulders to the morning, the groves of cocoa-palms and
+tamarinds, the waterfalls dropping over sheer precipices a thousand feet
+into the ocean, the green embrasures where the mango, the guava, and the
+lovi lovi grow, and where the hibiscus lifts red hands to the light.
+I call to mind the luau where Kalakua, the King, presided over the
+dispensation of stewed puppy, lifted to one's lips by brown but fair
+fingers, of live shrimps, of poi and taro and balls of boiled sea-weed
+stuffed with Heaven knows what; and to crown all, or to drown all, the
+insinuating liquor kava, followed when the festival was done by the
+sensuous but fascinating hula hula, danced by maidens of varying
+loveliness.  Of these Van Blaricom, the American, said, "they'd capture
+Chicago in a week with that racket," and he showed Blithelygo his
+calculations as to profits.
+
+The moments that we enjoyed the most, however, were those that came when
+feast and serenade were over, when Hawaii Ponoi, the National Anthem, was
+sung, and we lay upon the sands and watched the long white coverlet of
+foam folding towards the shore, and saw visions and dreamed dreams.  But
+at times we also breathed a prayer--a prayer that somebody or something
+would come and carry off Van Blaricom, whose satire, born and nurtured in
+Chicago, was ever turned against Hawaii and all that therein was.
+
+There are times when I think I had a taste of Paradise in Hawaii--but a
+Paradise not without a Satanic intruder in the shape of that person from
+Illinois.  Nothing escaped his scorn.  One day we saw from Diamond Head
+three water-spouts careering to the south, a splendid procession of the
+powers of the air.  He straightway said to Kalakua, that "a Michigan
+cyclone had more git-up-and-git about it than them three black cats with
+their tails in the water."  He spent hours in thinking out rudely caustic
+things to repeat about this little kingdom.  He said that the Government
+was a Corliss-engine running a sewing machine.  He used to ask the
+Commander of the Forces when the Household Cavalry were going into summer
+camp--they were twelve.  The only thing that appeared to impress him
+seriously was Molokai, the desolate island where the lepers made their
+cheerless prison-home.  But the reason for his gravity appeared when he
+said to Blithelygo and myself: "There'd be a fortune in that menagerie if
+it was anchored in Lake Michigan."  On that occasion he was answered in
+strong terms.  It was the only time I ever heard Blithelygo use
+profanity.  But the American merely dusted his patent leather shoes with
+a gay silk kerchief, adjusted his clothes on his five-foot frame as he
+stood up; and said: "Say you ought to hear my partner in Chicago when he
+lets out.  He's an artist!"
+
+This Man from the West was evidently foreordained to play a part in the
+destinies of Blithelygo and myself, for during two years of travel he
+continuously crossed our path.  His only becoming quality was his ample
+extravagance.  Perhaps it was the bountiful impetus he gave to the
+commerce of Honolulu, and the fact that he talked of buying up a portion
+of one of the Islands for sugar-planting, that induced the King to be
+gracious to him.  However that might be, when Blithelygo and I joined his
+Majesty at Hilo to visit the extinct volcano of Kilauea, there was the
+American coolly puffing his cigar and quizzically feeling the limbs and
+prodding the ribs of the one individual soldier who composed the King's
+body-guard.  He was not interested in our arrival further than to give us
+a nod.  In a pause that followed our greetings, he said to his Majesty,
+while jerking his thumb towards the soldier: "King, how many of 'em have
+you got in your army?"
+
+His Majesty blandly but with dignity turned to his aide-de-camp and
+raised his eyebrows inquiringly.  The aide-de-camp answered: "Sixty."
+
+"Then we've got 1/60th of the standing army with us, eh?" drawled Van
+Blaricom.
+
+The aide-de-camp bowed affirmatively.  The King was scanning Mauna Loa.
+The American winked at us.  The King did not see the wink, but he had
+caught a tone in the voice of the invader, which brought, as I thought,
+a slight flush to his swarthy cheek.  The soldier-his name was Lilikalu
+--looked from his King to the critic of his King's kingdom and standing
+army, and there was a glow beneath his long eyelashes which suggested
+that three-quarters of a century of civilisation had not quite drawn the
+old savage spirit from the descendants of Lailai, the Hawaiian Eve.
+
+During the journey up the Forty-Mile Track to Kilauea, the American
+enveloped 1/60th of his Majesty's standing army with his Michigan Avenue
+and peanut-stand wit, and not always, it was observed, out of the hearing
+of the King, who nevertheless preserved a marked unconsciousness.
+Majesty was at a premium with two of us on that journey.  Only once was
+the Chicagonian's wit not stupid as well as offensive.  It chanced thus.
+The afternoon in which we reached the volcano was suffocatingly hot, and
+the King's bodyguard had discarded all clothing--brief when complete--
+save what would not count in any handicap.  He was therefore at peace,
+while the rest of us, Royalty included, were inwardly thinking that after
+this the orthodox future of the wicked would have no terrors.  At a
+moment when the body-guard appeared to be most ostentatious in his
+freedom from clothing the American said to his Majesty: "King, do you
+know what 1/60th of your standing army is?"  The reply was a low and
+frigid: "No."
+
+"It's a vulgar fraction."
+
+                    .....................
+
+There were seven of us walking on the crater of the volcano: great banks
+of sulphur on the right, dark glaciers of lava on the left, high walls of
+scoria and volcanic crust enveloping us all about.  We were four thousand
+feet above the level of the sea.  We were standing at the door of the
+House of Pele, the Goddess of Fire.  We knocked, but she would not open.
+The flames were gone from her hearthstone, her smoke was gorging the
+throat of the suffering earth.
+
+"Say, she was awful sick while she was about it," said the American as he
+stumbled over the belched masses of lava.
+
+That was one day.  But two days after we stood at Pele threshold again.
+Now red scoria and pumice and sulphur boiled and rolled where the hard
+lava had frayed our boots.  Within thirty-six hours Kilauea has sprung
+from its flameless sleep into sulphurous life and red roaring grandeur.
+Though Pele came but slowly, she came; and a lake of fire beat at the
+lofty sides of the volcanic cup.  The ruby spray flashed up to the sky,
+and geysers of flame hurled long lances at the moon.
+
+"King," said the American, "why don't you turn it into an axe-factory?"
+
+At last the time came when we must leave this scene of marvel and terror,
+and we retired reluctantly.  There were two ways by which we might return
+to the bridle path that led down the mountain.  The American desired to
+take the one by which we had not come; the rest of us, tired out,
+preferred to go as we came--the shortest way.  A compromise was made by
+his Majesty sending 1/60th of the standing army with the American, who
+gaily said he would join us, "horse, foot and cavalry," in the bridle-
+path.  We reached the meeting-point first, but as we looked back we saw
+with horror that two streams of fire were flowing down the mountain side.
+We were to the left of them both, and safe; but between them, and
+approaching us, were Van Blaricom and the native soldier.  The two men
+saw their danger, and pushed swiftly down the mountainside and towards
+us, but more swiftly still these narrow snake-like streams came on.
+
+Presently the streams veered towards each other and joined.  The two men
+were on an island with a shore of fire.  There was one hope--the shore
+was narrow yet.  But in running the American fell, spraining his ankle
+badly.  We were speechless, but the King's lips parted with a moan, as he
+said: "Lilikalu can jump the stream, but the other--!"
+
+They were now at the margin of that gleaming shore, the American wringing
+his hands.  It was clear to him that unless a miracle happened he would
+see his beloved Chicago no more; for the stream behind them was rapidly
+widening.
+
+I think I see that 1/60th of his Majesty's infantry as he looked down
+upon the slight and cowering form of the American.  His moment of
+vengeance had come.  A second passed, marked by the splashing roar of the
+waves in the hill above us, and then the soldier-naked, all save the
+boots he wore-seized the other in his arms, stepped back a few paces, and
+then ran forward and leaped across the barrier of flame.  Not quite
+across!  One foot and ankle sank into the molten masses, with a shiver of
+agony, he let the American fall on the safe ground.  An instant later and
+he lay at our feet, helpless and maimed for many a day; and the standing
+army of the King was deprived of 1/60th of its strength.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+HOW PANGO WANGO WAS ANNEXED
+
+Blithelygo and I were at Levuka, Fiji, languidly waiting for some
+"trader" or mail-steamer to carry us away anywhere.  Just when we were
+bored beyond endurance and when cigars were running low, a Fijian came to
+us and said: "That fellow, white fellow, all a-same a-you, long a-shore.
+Pleni sail.  Pleni Melican flag."
+
+We went to the beach, and there was Jude Van Blaricom, our American.  We
+had left him in New Zealand at the Pink Terraces, bidding him an eternal
+farewell.  We wished it so.  But we had met him afterwards at Norfolk
+Island, and again at Sydney, and we knew now that we should never cease
+to meet him during our sojourn on this earth.
+
+An hour later we were on board his yacht, Wilderness, being introduced to
+MacGregor, the captain, to Mr. Dagmar Caramel, C.M.G., his guest, and to
+some freshly made American cocktails.  Then we were shown over the
+Wilderness.  She looked as if she had been in the hands of a Universal
+Provider.  Evidently the American had no intention of roughing it.  His
+toilet requisites were a dream.  From the dazzling completeness of the
+snug saloon we were taken aft to see two coops filled with fowls.  "Say,"
+said the American, "how's that for fresh meat?"  Though a little ashamed
+of it, we then and there accepted the Chicagonian's invitation to take a
+cruise with him in the South Pacific.  For days the cruise was pleasant
+enough, and then things began to drag.  Fortunately there came a new
+interest in the daily routine.  One day Van Blaricom was seen standing
+with the cook before the fowl coops deeply interested; and soon after he
+had triumphantly arranged what he called "The Coliseum."  This was an
+enclosure of canvas chiefly, where we had cock-fights daily.  The
+gladiators were always ready for the arena.  One was called U. S., after
+General U. S. Grant, and the other Bob Lee, after General Robert Lee.
+
+"Go it, U. S.  Lift your skewers, you bobtail.  Give it to him, you've
+got him in Andersonville, U. S."  Thus, day by day, were the warriors
+encouraged by Van Blaricom.
+
+There is nothing very elegant or interesting in the record so far, but it
+all has to do with the annexation of Pango Wango, and, as Blithelygo long
+afterwards remarked, it shows how nations sometimes acquire territory.
+Yes, this Coliseum of ours had as much to do with the annexation as had
+the American's toilet requisites his hair-oil and perfume bottles.  In
+the South Pacific, a thousand miles from land, Van Blaricom was redolent
+of new-mown hay and heliotrope.
+
+It was tropically hot.  We were in the very middle of the hurricane
+season.  The air had no nerve.  Even the gladiators were relaxing their
+ardour; and soon the arena was cleared altogether, for we were in the
+midst of a hurricane.  It was a desperate time, but just when it seemed
+most desperate the wheel of doom turned backward and we were saved.  The
+hurricane found us fretful with life by reason of the heat, it left us
+thankful for being let to live at all; though the Wilderness appeared
+little better than a drifting wreck.  Our commissariat was gone, or
+almost gone, we hadn't any masts or sails to speak of, and the cook
+informed us that we had but a few gallons of fresh water left; yet,
+strange to say, the gladiators remained to us.  When the peril was over
+it surprised me to remember that Van Blaricom had been comparatively cool
+through it all; for I had still before me a certain scene at the volcano
+of Kilauea.  I was to be still more surprised.
+
+We were by no means out of danger.  MacGregor did not know where we were;
+the fresh water was vanishing rapidly, and our patch of sail was hardly
+enough to warrant a breeze taking any interest in it.  We had been saved
+from immediate destruction, but it certainly seemed like exchanging
+Tophet for a slow fire.  When the heat was greatest and the spiritual
+gloom thickest the American threw out the sand-bags, as it were, and hope
+mounted again.
+
+"Say, MacGregor," he said, "run up the American flag.  There's luck in
+the old bandana."
+
+This being done, he added: "Bring along the cigars; we'll have out U. S.
+and Bob Lee in the saloon."
+
+Our Coliseum was again open to the public at two shillings a head.  That
+had been the price from the beginning.  The American was very business-
+like in the matter, but this admission fee was our only contribution to
+the expenses of that cruise.  Sport could only allay, it could not banish
+our sufferings.  We became as haggard and woe-begone a lot as ever ate
+provisions impregnated with salt; we turned wistfully from claret to a
+teaspoonful of water, and had tongues like pieces of blotting-paper.  One
+morning we were sitting at breakfast when we heard a cock-crow, then
+another and another.  MacGregor sprang to his feet crying: "Land!"  In a
+moment we were on deck.  There was no land to be seen, but MacGregor
+maintained that a cock was a better look-out than a human being any time,
+and in this case he was right.  In a few hours we did sight land.
+
+Slowly we came nearer to the island.  MacGregor was not at all sure where
+it was, but guessed it might be one of the Solomon Islands.  When within
+a few miles of it Blithelygo unfeelingly remarked that its population
+might be cannibalistic.  MacGregor said it was very likely; but we'd have
+to be fattened first, and that would give us time to turn round.  The
+American said that the Stars and Stripes and the Coliseum had brought us
+luck so far, and he'd take the risk if we would.
+
+The shore was crowded with natives, and as we entered the bay we saw
+hundreds take to the water in what seemed fearfully like war-canoes.  We
+were all armed with revolvers, and we had half a dozen rifles handy.  As
+the islanders approached we could see that they also were armed; and a
+brawny race they looked, and particularly bloodthirsty.  In the largest
+canoe stood a splendid-looking fellow, evidently a chief.  On the shore
+near a large palm-thatched house a great group was gathered, and the
+American, levelling his glass, said: "Say, it's a she-queen or something
+over there."
+
+At that moment the canoes drew alongside, and while MacGregor adjured us
+to show no fear, he beckoned the chief to come aboard.  An instant, and a
+score of savages, armed with spears and nulla-nullas were on deck.
+MacGregor made signs that we were hungry, Blithelygo that we were
+thirsty, and the American, smoking all the while, offered the chief a
+cigar.  The cigar was refused, but the headman ordered a couple of
+natives ashore, and in five minutes we had wild bananas and fish to eat,
+and water to drink.  But that five minutes of waiting were filled with
+awkward incidents.  Blithelygo, meaning to be hospitable, had brought up
+a tumbler of claret for the headman.  With violent language, MacGregor
+stopped its presentation; upon which the poison of suspicion evidently
+entered the mind of the savage, and he grasped his spear threateningly.
+Van Blaricom, who wore a long gold watch-chain, now took it off and
+offered it to the chief, motioning him to put it round his neck.  The
+hand was loosened on the spear, and the Chicagonian stepped forward and
+put the chain over the head of the native.  As he did so the chief
+suddenly thrust his nose forward and sniffed violently at the American.
+
+What little things decide the fate of nations and men!  This was a race
+whose salutation was not nose-rubbing, but smelling, and the American had
+not in our worst straits failed to keep his hair sleek with hair-oil,
+verbena scented, and to perfume himself daily with new-mown hay or
+heliotrope.  Thus was he of goodly savour to the chief, and the eyes of
+the savage grew bright.  At that moment the food and drink came.  During
+the repast the chief chuckled in his own strange way, and, when we
+slackened in our eating, he still motioned to us to go on.
+
+Van Blaricom, who had been smiling, suddenly looked grave.  "By the great
+horn-spoons," he said, "they have begun already!  They're fattening us!"
+
+MacGregor nodded affirmatively, and then Van Blaricom's eyes wandered
+wildly from the chief to that group on the shore where he thought he had
+seen the "she-queen."  At that moment the headman came forward again,
+again sniffed at him, and again chuckled, and all the natives as they
+looked on us chuckled also.  It was most unpleasant.  Suddenly I saw the
+American start.  He got up, turned to us, and said: "I've got an idea.
+MacGregor, get U. S.  and Bob Lee."  Then he quietly disappeared, the
+eyes of the savages suspiciously following him.  In a moment he came
+back, bearing in his arms a mirror, a bottle of hair-oil, a couple of
+bottles of perfume, a comb and brush, some variegated bath towels, and an
+American flag.  First he let the chief sniff at the bottles, and then,
+pointing to the group on the shore, motioned to be taken over.  In a few
+moments he and MacGregor were being conveyed towards the shore in the
+gathering dusk.
+
+Four hours passed.  It was midnight.  There was noise of drums and
+shouting on the shore, which did not relieve our suspense.  Suddenly
+there was a commotion in the canoes that still remained near the
+Wilderness.  The headman appeared before us, and beckoned to Blithelygo
+and myself to come.  The beckoning was friendly, and we hoped that
+affairs had taken a more promising turn.
+
+In a space surrounded with palms and ti-trees a great fire was burning.
+There was a monotonous roll of the savage tom-tom and a noise of shouting
+and laughter.  Yes, we were safe, and the American had done it.  The
+Coliseum was open, MacGregor was ring-master, and U. S.  and Bob Lee were
+at work.  This show, with other influences, had conquered Pango Wango.
+The American flag was hoisted on a staff, and on a mighty stump there sat
+Van Blaricom, almost innocent of garments, I grieve to say, with one whom
+we came to know as Totimalu, Queen of Pango Wango, a half circle of
+savages behind them.  Van Blaricom and MacGregor had been naturalised by
+having their shoulders lanced with a spear-point, and then rubbed against
+the lanced shoulders of the chiefs.  The taking of Pango Wango had not
+been, I fear, a moral victory.  Van Blaricom was smoking a cigar, and was
+writing on a piece of paper, using the back of a Pango Wango man as a
+desk.  The Queen's garments were chiefly variegated bath-towels, and she
+was rubbing her beaming countenance and ample bosom with hair-oil and
+essence of new-mown hay.
+
+Van Blaricom nodded to us nonchalantly, saying: "It's all right--she's
+Totimalu, the Queen.  Sign here, Queen," and he motioned for the obese
+beauty to hold the pencil.  She did so, and then he stood up, and, while
+the cock-fight still went on, he read, with a fine Chicago fluency, what
+proved to be a proclamation.  As will be seen, it was full of ellipses
+and was fragmentary in its character, though completely effective in fact:
+
+     Know all men by these Presents, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
+     Seeing that all men are born free and equal (vide United States
+     Constitution), et cetera.  We, Jude Van Blaricom, of the city of
+     Chicago, with and by the consent of Queen Totimalu, do, in the name
+     of George Washington, Abe Lincoln, Grover Cleveland, and the State
+     of Illinois, and by the Grace of Heaven, et cetera, et cetera, et
+     cetera, hereby annex the Kingdom of Pango Wango to be of the
+     territory of the American Union, to have and to hold from this day
+     forth (vide Constitution of the United States), et cetera.
+
+     Signed, JUDE VAN BLARICOM, TOTIMALU  X  (her mark).
+
+"Beat the drums, you niggers!" he cried, and patted Totimalu's shoulder.
+"Come and join the royal party, gentlemen, and pay your respects.  Shake!
+That's right."
+
+Thus was Pango Wango annexed.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+AN AMIABLE REVENGE
+
+Whenever any one says to me that civilisation is a failure, I refer him
+to certain records of Tonga, and tell him the story of an amiable
+revenge.  He is invariably convinced that savages can learn easily the
+forms of convention and the arts of government--and other things.  The
+Tongans once had a rough and coarsely effective means for preserving
+order and morality, but the whole scheme was too absurdly simple.  Now,
+with a Constitution and a Sacred Majesty, and two Houses of Parliament,
+and a native Magistracy, they show that they are capable of becoming
+European in its most pregnant meaning.  As the machinery has increased
+the grist for the mill has grown.  There was a time when a breach of the
+Seventh Commandment was punished in Tonga with death, and it was
+therefore rarely committed.  It is no rarity now--so does law and
+civilisation provide opportunities for proving their existence.
+
+On landing at Nukalofa, the capital of Tonga, some years ago, I naturally
+directed my steps towards the residence of the British consul.  The route
+lay along an arc of emerald and opal shore, the swaying cocoa-palms
+overhead, and native huts and missionary conventicles hidden away in
+coverts of ti-trees, hibiscus bushes, and limes; the sensuous, perfume-
+ladened air pervading all.  I had seen the British flag from the coral-
+bulwarked harbour, but could not find it now.  Leaving the indolent
+village behind, I passed the Palace, where I beheld the sacred majesty of
+Tonga on the veranda sleepily flapping the flies from his aged calves,
+and I could not find that flag.  Had I passed it?  Was it yet to come?
+I leaned against a bread-fruit tree and thought upon it.  The shore was
+deserted.  Nobody had taken any notice of me; even the German steamer
+Lubeck had not brought a handful of the population to the Quay.
+
+I was about to make up my mind to go back to the Lubeck and sulk, when a
+native issued from the grove at my left and blandly gazed upon me as he
+passed.  He wore a flesh-coloured vala about the loins, a red pandanus
+flower in his ear, and a lia-lia of hibiscus blossoms about his neck.
+That was all.  Evidently he was not interested in me, for he walked on.
+I choked back my feelings of hurt pride, and asked him in an off-hand
+kind of way, and in a sort of pigeon English, if he could tell me where
+the British consul lived.  The stalwart subject of King George Tabou
+looked at me gravely for an instant, then turned and motioned down the
+road.  I walked on beside him, improperly offended by his dignified airs,
+his coolness of body and manner, and what I considered the insolent
+plumpness and form of his chest and limbs.
+
+He was a harmony in brown and red.  Even his hair was brown.  I had to
+admit to myself that in point of comeliness I could not stand the same
+scrutiny in the same amount of costume.  Perhaps that made me a little
+imperious, a little superior in manner.  Reducing my English to his
+comprehension as I measured it--he bowed when I asked him if he
+understood--I explained to him many things necessary for the good of his
+country.  Remembering where I was, I expressed myself in terms that were
+gentle though austere regarding the King, and reproved the supineness and
+stupidity of the Crown Prince.  Lamenting the departed puissance of the
+sons of Tongatabu, I warmed to my subject, telling this savage who looked
+at me with so neutral a countenance how much I deplored the decadence of
+his race.  I bade him think of the time when the Tongans, in token of
+magnanimous amity, rubbed noses with the white man, and of where those
+noses were now--between the fingers of the Caucasian.  He appeared
+becomingly attentive, and did me the honour before I began my peroration
+to change the pandanus flower from the ear next to me to the other.
+
+I had just rounded off my last sentence when he pointed to a house, half-
+native, half-European, in front of which was a staff bearing the British
+flag.  With the generosity which marks the Englishman away from home I
+felt in my pockets and found a sixpence.  I handed it to my companion;
+and with a "Talofa" the only Tongan I knew--I passed into the garden of
+the consulate.  The consul himself came to the door when I knocked on the
+lintel.  After glancing at my card he shook me by the hand, and then
+paused.  His eyes were intently directed along the road by which I had
+come.  I looked back, and there stood the stalwart Tongan where I had
+left him, gazing at the sixpence I had placed in his hand.  There was a
+kind of stupefaction in his attitude.  Presently the consul said somewhat
+tartly: "Ah, you've been to the Palace--the Crown Prince has brought you
+over!"
+
+It was not without a thrill of nervousness that I saw my royal guide flip
+the sixpence into his mouth--he had no pocket--and walk back towards the
+royal abode.
+
+I told the consul just how it was.  In turn he told his daughter, the
+daughter told the native servants, and in three minutes the place was
+echoing with languid but appreciative laughter.  Natives came to the door
+to look at me, and after wide-eyed smiling at me for a minute gave place
+to others.  Though I too smiled, my thoughts were gloomy; for now it
+seemed impossible to go to the Palace and present myself to King George
+and the Heir-Apparent.  But the consul, and, still more, the consul's
+daughter, insisted; pooh-poohing my hesitation.  At this distance from
+the scene and after years of meditation I am convinced that their efforts
+to induce me to go were merely an unnatural craving for sensation.
+
+I went--we three went.  Even a bare-legged King has in his own house an
+advantage over the European stranger.  I was heated, partly from self-
+repression, partly from Scotch tweed.  King George was quite, quite cool,
+and unencumbered, save for a trifling calico jacket, a pink lava-lava,
+and the august fly-flapper.  But what heated me most, I think, was the
+presence of the Crown Prince, who, on my presentation, looked at me as
+though he had never seen me before.  He was courteous, however, directing
+a tappa cloth to be spread for me.  The things I intended to say to King
+George for the good of himself and his kingdom, which I had thought out
+on the steamer Lubeck and rehearsed to my guide a few hours before, would
+not be tempted forth.  There was silence; for the consul did not seem "to
+be on in the scene," and presently the King of Holy Tonga nodded and fell
+asleep.  Then the Crown Prince came forward, and beckoned me to go with
+him.  He led me to a room which was composed of mats and bamboo pillars
+chiefly.  At first I thought there were about ten pillars to support the
+roof, but my impression before I left was that there were about ten
+thousand.  For which multiplication there were good reasons.
+
+Again a beautiful tappa cloth was spread for me, and then ten maidens
+entered, and, sitting in a semi-circle, began to chew a root called kava,
+which, when sufficiently masticated, they returned into a calabash, water
+being poured on the result.  Meanwhile, the Prince, dreamily and ever so
+gently, was rolling some kind of weed between his fingers.  About the
+time the maidens had finished, the Crown Prince's cigarette was ready.
+A small calabash of the Result was handed to me, and the cigarette
+accompanied it.  The Crown Prince sat directly opposite me, lit his own
+cigarette, and handed the matches.  I distinctly remember the first half-
+dozen puffs of that cigarette, the first taste of kava it had the flavour
+of soft soap and Dover's powder.  I have smoked French-Canadian tobacco,
+I have puffed Mexican hair-lifters, but Heaven had preserved me till that
+hour from the cigarettes of a Crown Prince of Tonga.  As I said, the
+pillars multiplied; the mats seemed rising from the floor; the maidens
+grew into a leering army of Amazons; but through it all the face of the
+Crown Prince never ceased to smile upon me gently.
+
+There were some incidents of that festival which I may have forgotten,
+for the consul said afterwards that I was with his Royal Highness about
+an hour and a half.  The last thing I remember about the visit was the
+voice of the successor to the throne of Holy Tonga asking me blandly in
+perfect English: "Will you permit me to show you the way to the consul's
+house?"
+
+To my own credit I respectfully declined.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE BLIND BEGGAR AND THE LITTLE RED PEG
+
+As Sherry and I left the theatre in Mexico City one night, we met a blind
+beggar tapping his way home.  Sherry stopped him.  "Good evening," he
+said over the blind man's shoulder.
+
+"Good evening, senor," was the reply.  "You are late."
+
+"Si, senor," and the blind man pushed a hand down in his coat pocket.
+
+"He's got his fist on the rhino," said Sherry to me in English.  "He's
+not quite sure whether we're footpads or not--poor devil."
+
+"How much has he got?" asked I.
+
+"Perhaps four or five dollars.  Good business, eh?  Got it in big money
+mostly, too--had it changed at some cafe."
+
+The blind man was nervous, seemed not to understand us.  He made as if to
+move on.  Sherry and I, to reassure him, put a few reals into his hand--
+not without an object, for I asked Sherry to make him talk on.
+A policeman sauntered near with his large lantern--a superior sort of
+Dogberry, but very young, as are most of the policemen in Mexico, save
+the Rurales, that splendid company of highwaymen whom Diaz bought over
+from being bandits to be the guardians of the peace.  This one eyed us
+meaningly, but Sherry gave him a reassuring nod, and our talk went on,
+while the blind man was fingering the money we had just given him.
+Presently Sherry said to him: "I'm Bingham Sherry," adding some other
+particulars--"and you're all right.  I've a friend here who wants to talk
+with you.  Come along; we'll take you home--confound the garlic, what a
+breath he's got!"
+
+For a moment the blind man seemed to hesitate, then he raised his head
+quickly, as if looking into Sherry's face; a light came over it, and he
+said, repeating Sherry's name: "Si, senor; si, si, senor.  I know you
+now.  You sit in the right-hand corner of the little back-room at the
+Cafe Manrique, where you come to drink chocolate.  Is it not?"
+
+"That's where I sit," said Sherry.  "And now, be gad, I believe I
+remember you.  Are you Becodar?"
+
+"Si, senor."
+
+"Well, I'm damned!"  Then, turning tome: "Lots of these fellows look so
+much alike that I didn't recognise this one.  He's a character.  Had a
+queer history.  I'll get him to tell it."
+
+We walked on, one on either side, Sherry using his hat to wave away the
+smell of garlic.  Presently he said "Where've you been to-night,
+Becodar?"
+
+"I have paid my respects to the Maison Dore, to the Cafe de la Concordia,
+to the Cafe Iturbide, senor."
+
+"And how did paying your respects pay you, Becodar?"
+
+"The noble courtesy of these cafes, and the great consideration of the
+hidalgos there assembled rendered to me five pesos and a trifle, senor."
+
+"The poor ye have always with you.  He that giveth to the poor lendeth to
+the Lord.  Becodar has large transactions with Providence, mio amigo,"
+said Sherry.
+
+The beggar turned his sightless eyes to us, as though he would understand
+these English words.  Sherry, seeing, said: "We were saying, Becodar,
+that the blessed saints know how to take care of a blind man, lest,
+having no boot, he stub his toe against a stone."
+
+Off came Becodar's hat.  He tapped the wall.  "Where am I, senor?" he
+asked.
+
+Sherry told him.  "Ah!" he said, "the church of Saint Joseph is near."
+Then he crossed himself and seemed to hurry his steps.  Presently he
+stood still.  We were beside the church.  Against the door, in a niche,
+was a figure of the Virgin in stone.  He got to his knees and prayed
+fast.  And yet as he prayed I saw his hand go to his pocket, and it
+fumbled and felt the money there.
+
+"Begad, he's counting it all," said Sherry, "and now he's giving thanks
+for the exact amount, adding his distinguished consideration that the sum
+is by three reals greater than any day since Lent began.  He promises to
+bring some flowers to-morrow for the shrine, and he also swears to go a
+pilgrimage to a church of Mary at Guadaloupe, and to be a kind compadre--
+By Jove, there you are!  He's a compadre--a blind compadre!"
+
+A little while afterwards we were in Becodar's house--a low adobe but of
+two rooms with a red light burning over the door, to guard against the
+plague.  It had a table hanging like a lid from the wall, a stone for
+making tortillas, a mortar for grinding red peppers, a crucifix on the
+wall, a short sword, a huge pistol, a pair of rusty stirrups, and several
+chairs.  The chairs seemed to be systematically placed, and it was quite
+wonderful to see how the beggar twisted in and out among them without
+stumbling.  I could not understand this, unless it was that he wished to
+practise moving about deftly, that he might be at least disadvantage in
+the cafes and public resorts.  He never once stirred them, and I was
+presently surprised to see that they were all fastened to the floor.
+Sherry seemed as astonished as I.  From this strangeness I came to
+another.  Looking up at the walls I saw set in the timber a number of
+holes cleanly bored.  And in one of the last of these holes was a peg.
+Again my eyes shifted.  From a nail in one corner of the room hung a red
+and white zarape, a bridle, one of those graceless bits which would
+wrench the mouth of the wildest horse to agony, and a sombrero.
+Something in these things fascinated me.  I got up and examined them,
+while the blind man was in the other room.  Turning them over I saw that
+the zarape was pierced with holes-bullet holes.  I saw also that it was
+stained a deeper red than its own.  I turned away, questioning Sherry.
+He came and looked, but said nothing, lifting a hand in deprecation.  As
+we stood so, Becodar appeared again in the doorway, bearing an olla of
+pulque and some tortilla sandwiches, made of salad and shreds of meat,
+flavoured with garlic.  He paused, his face turned towards us, with an
+understanding look.  His instinct was remarkable.  He did not speak, but
+came and placed the things he carried near the chairs where we had sat.
+
+Presently I saw some writing on the adobe wall.  The look of it showed
+the hand of youth, its bold carelessness, a boy.  Some of it I set down
+soon afterwards, and it ran in this fashion: "The most good old compadre!
+But I'd like another real."  Again: "One media for a banderilla, two
+reals for the bull-fight, five centavos for the sweet oranges, and
+nothing for dulces.  I threw a cigar at the toreador.  It was no good,
+but the toreador was a king.  Good-night, compadre the blind, who begs."
+Again: "If I knew where it was I'd take a real.  Carambo!  No, I
+wouldn't.  I'll ask him.  I'll give him the new sword-stick that my
+cousin the Rurales gave me.  He doesn't need it now he's not a bandit.
+I'm stuffed, and my head swims.  It's the pulque.  Sabe Dios!"  Again:
+"Compadre, the most miraculous, that goes tapping your stick along the
+wall, and jingles the silver in your pocket, whither do you wander?  Have
+you forgotten that I am going to the cock-fight, and want a real?  What
+is a cock-fight without a real?  Compadre the brave, who stumbles along
+and never falls, I am sitting on your doorstep, and I am writing on your
+wall--if I had as much money as you I'd go to every bull-fight.  I'd keep
+a fighting-cock myself."  And once again: "If I was blind I'd have money
+out of the cafes, but I couldn't see my bulls toss the horses.  I'll be a
+bandit, and when I'm old, and if Diaz doesn't put me against the wall and
+prod holes in me like Gonzales, they'll take me in the Rurales, same as
+Gerado."
+
+"Who is it writes on the wall, Becodar?" asked Sherry of our host, as,
+on his knees, he poured out pulque for us.
+
+The old man turned musingly, and made motions of writing, a pleased look
+in his face.  "Ah, senor, he who so writes is Bernal--I am his compadre.
+He has his mother now, but no father, no father."  He smiled.  "You have
+never seen so bold and enterprising, never so handsome a boy.  He can
+throw the lasso and use the lariat, and ride--sabe Dios, he can ride!
+His cousin Gerado the Rurales taught him.  I do well by him as I may,
+who have other things to think on.  But I do well by him."
+
+"What became of his father, Becodar?  Dead?" asked Sherry.
+
+The beggar crossed himself.  "Altogether, senor.  And such a funeral had
+he, with the car all draped, and even the mutes with the gold braid on
+their black.  I will tell you how it was.  We were great friends,
+Bernal's father and me, and when the boy was born, I said, I will be
+compadre to him.  ('Godfather, or co-father,' interposed Sherry to me.)
+I had my sight then, senors, out of the exalted mercy of the Saints.
+Ah, those were great times, when I had my eyes, and no grey hairs,
+and could wear my sword, and ride my horses.  There was work to do then,
+with sword and horses.  It was revolution here and rebellion there, and
+bandits everywhere.  Ah, well, it is no matter; I was speaking of the boy
+and his father and myself, the compadre.  We were all great friends.  But
+you know the way of men.  One day he and I--Santiago, Bernal's father--
+had been drinking mescal.  We quarrelled--I know not why.  It is not well
+nor right for a padre and a compadre to fight--there is trouble in Heaven
+over that.  But there is a way; and we did it as others have done.  We
+took off our sombreros, and put our compadreship on the ground under
+them.  That was all right--it was hid there under the hat.  Then we stood
+up and fought--such a fight--for half an hour.  Then he cut me in the
+thigh--a great gash--and I caught him in the neck the same.  We both came
+to the ground then, the fight was over, and we were, of course, good
+friends again.  I dragged myself over to him as he lay there, and lifted
+his head and sopped the blood at his neck with my scarf.  I did not think
+that he was hurt so bad.  But he said: 'I am gone, my Becodar.  I haven't
+got five minutes in me.  Put on your compadreship quick.'  I snatched up
+the sombrero and put it on, and his I tucked under his head.  So that we
+were compadres again.  Ah, senor, senor!  Soon he drew my cheek down to
+his and said: 'Adios, compadre: Bernal is thine now.  While your eyes
+see, and your foot travels, let him not want a friend.  Adios!'  That was
+the end of him.  They had me in Balim for a year, and then I came out to
+the boy; and since then for twelve years he has not suffered."
+
+At this point he offered us the pulque and the sandwiches, and I took
+both, eating and enjoying as well as I could.  Sherry groaned, but took
+the pulque, refusing the sandwiches almost violently.
+
+"How did you lose your sight, Becodar?" asked Sherry presently.
+
+Becodar sat perfectly still for a moment, and then said in a low voice:
+"I will tell you.  I will make the story short.  Gentle God, what a thing
+it was!  I was for Gonzales then--a loyal gentleman, he called me--I,
+a gentleman!  But that was his way.  I was more of a spy for him.  Well,
+I found out that a revolution was to happen, so I gave the word to
+Gonzales, and with the soldiers came to Puebla.  The leaders were
+captured in a house, brought out, and without trial were set against a
+wall.  I can remember it so well--so well!  The light was streaming from
+an open door upon the wall.  They were brought out, taken across the road
+and stood against a wall.  I was standing a distance away, for at the
+moment I was sorry, though, to be sure, senor, it was for the cause of
+the country then, I thought.  As I stood there looking, the light that
+streamed from the doorway fell straight upon a man standing against that
+wall.  It was my brother--Alphonso, my brother.  I shrieked and ran
+forward, but the rifles spat out at the moment, and the five men fell.
+Alphonso--ah, I thank the Virgin every day! he did not know.  His zarape
+hangs there on the wall, his sombrero, his sword, and his stirrups."
+
+Sherry shifted nervously in his seat.  "There's stuff for you, amigo,"
+he said to me.  "Makes you chilly, doesn't it?  Shot his own brother--
+amounts to same thing, doesn't it?  All right, Becodar, we're both sorry,
+and will pray for his departed spirit; go ahead, Becodar."
+
+The beggar kept pulling at a piece of black ribbon which was tied to the
+arm of the chair in which he now sat.  "Senors, after that I became a
+revolutionist--that was the only way to make it up to my brother, except
+by masses--I gave candles for every day in the year.  One day they were
+all in my house here, sitting just where you sit in those chairs.  Our
+leader was Castodilian, the bandit with the long yellow hair.  We had a
+keg of powder which we were going to distribute.  All at once Gonzales's
+soldiers burst in.  There was a fight, we were overpowered, and
+Castodilian dropped his cigar--he had kept it in his mouth all the time
+--in the powder-keg.  It killed most of us.  I lost my eyes.  Gonzales
+forgave me, if I would promise to be a revolutionist no more.  What was
+there to do?  I took the solemn oath at the grave of my mother; and so--
+and so, senors."
+
+Sherry had listened with a quizzical intentness, now and again cocking
+his head at some dramatic bit, and when Becodar paused he suddenly leaned
+over and thrust a dollar into the ever-waiting hand.  Becodar gave a
+great sign of pleasure, and fumbled again with the money in his pocket.
+Then, after a moment, it shifted to the bit of ribbon that hung from the
+chair: "See, senors," he said.  "I tied this ribbon to the chair all
+those years ago."
+
+My eyes were on the peg and the holes in the wall.  Sherry questioned
+him.  "Why do you spike the wall with the little red peg, Becodar?"
+
+"The Little Red Peg, senor?  Ah!  It is not wonderful you notice that.
+There are eight bullet-holes in that zarape"--he pointed to the wall--"
+there are eight holes in the wall for the Little Red Peg.  Well, of the
+eight men who fired on my brother, two are left, as you may see.  The
+others are all gone, this way or that." Sherry shrugged a shoulder.
+"There are two left, eh, Becodar?  How will they die, and when?"  Becodar
+was motionless as a stone for a moment.  Then he said softly: "I do not
+know quite how or when.  But one drinks much mescal, and the other has a
+taste for quarrel.  He will get in trouble with the Rurales, and then
+good-bye to him!  Four others on furlough got in trouble with the
+Rurales, and that was the end.  They were taken at different times for
+some fault--by Gerado's company--Gerado, my cousin.  Camping at night,
+they tried to escape.  There is the Law of Fire, senors, as you know.
+If a man thinks his guard sleeps, and makes a run for it, they do not
+chase--they fire; and if he escapes unhurt, good; he is not troubled.
+But the Rurales are fine shots!"
+
+"You mean," said Sherry, "that the Rurales--your Gerado, for one--
+pretended to sleep--to be careless.  The fellows made a rush for it and
+were dropped?  Eh, Becodar, of the Little Red Peg?"
+
+Becodar shrugged a shoulder gently.  "Ah, senor, who can tell?  My Gerado
+is a sure shot."
+
+"Egad," said Sherry, "who'd have thought it?  It looks like a sweet
+little vendetta, doesn't it?  A blind beggar, too, with his Gerado to
+help the thing along.
+
+"'With his Gerado!'  Sounds like a Gatling, or a bomb, or a diabolical
+machine, doesn't it?  And yet they talk of this country being
+Americanised!  You can't Americanise a country with a real history.
+Well, Becodar, that's four.  What of the other two that left for Kingdom
+Come?"
+
+Becodar smiled pensively.  He seemed to be enduring a kind of joy, or
+else making light of a kind of sorrow.  "Ah, those two!  They were
+camping in a valley; they were escorting a small party of people who had
+come to look at ruins--Diaz was President then.  Well, a party of Aztecs
+on the other side of the river began firing across, not as if doing or
+meaning any harm.  By-and-bye the shot came rattling through the tent of
+the two.  One got up, and yelled across to them to stop, but a chance
+bullet brought him down, and then by some great mistake a lot of bullets
+came through the tent, and the other soldier was killed.  It was all a
+mistake, of course."
+
+"Yes," cynically said Sherry.  "The Aztecs got rattled, and then the
+bullets rattled.  And what was done to the Aztecs?"
+
+"Senor, what could be done?  They meant no harm, as you can see."
+
+"Of course, of course; but you put the Little Red Peg down two holes just
+the same, eh, my Becodar--with your Gerado.  I smell a great man in your
+Gerado, Becodar.  Your bandit turned soldier is a notable gentleman--
+gentlemen all his tribe.  .  .  .  You see," Sherry added to me, "the
+country was infested with bandits--some big names in this land had bandit
+for their titles one time or another.  Well, along came Diaz, a great
+man.  He said to the bandits: 'How much do you make a year at your
+trade?'  They told him.
+
+"'Then,' said he, 'I'll give you as much a month and clothe you.  You'll
+furnish your own horses and keep them, and hold the country in order.
+Put down the banditti, be my boundary-riders, my gentlemen guards, and we
+will all love you and cherish you.'  And 'it was so,' as Scripture says.
+And this Gerado can serve our good compadre here, and the Little Red Peg
+in the wall keeps tally."
+
+"What shall you do with Bernal the boy when he grows up?" added Sherry
+presently.
+
+"There is the question for my mind, senor," he answered.  "He would be a
+toreador--already has he served the matador in the ring, though I did not
+know it, foolish boy!  But I would have him in the Rurales."  Here he
+fetched out and handed us a bottle of mescal.  Sherry lifted his glass.
+
+"To the day when the Little Red Peg goes no farther!" he said.  We
+drank.
+
+"To the blind compadre and the boy!" I added, and we drank again.
+
+A moment afterwards in the silent street I looked back.  The door was
+shut, and the wee scarlet light was burning over it.  I fell to thinking
+of the Little Red Peg in the wall.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A FRIEND OF THE COMMUNE
+
+"See, madame--there, on the Hill of Pains, the long finger of the
+Semaphore!  One more prisoner has escaped--one more."
+
+"One more, Marie.  It is the life here that on the Hill, this here below;
+and yet the sun is bright, the cockatoos are laughing in the palms, and
+you hear my linnet singing."
+
+"It turns so slowly.  Now it points across the Winter Valley.  Ah!"
+
+"Yes, across the Winter Valley, where the deep woods are, and beyond to
+the Pascal River."
+
+"Towards my home.  How dim the light is now!  I can only see It--like a
+long dark finger yonder."
+
+"No, my dear, there is bright sunshine still; there is no cloud at all:
+but It is like a finger; it is quivering now, as though it were not
+sure."
+
+"Thank God, if it be not sure!  But the hill is cloudy, as I said."
+
+"No, Marie.  How droll you are!  The hill is not cloudy; even at this
+distance one can see something glisten beside the grove of pines."
+
+"I know.  It is the White Rock, where King Ovi died."
+
+"Marie, turn your face to me.  Your eyes are full of tears.  Your heart
+is tender.  Your tears are for the prisoner who has escaped--the hunted
+in the chase."
+
+She shuddered a little and added, "Wherever he is, that long dark finger
+on the Hill of Pains will find him out--the remorseless Semaphore."
+
+"No, madame, I am selfish; I weep for myself.  Tell me truly, as--as if
+I were your own child--was there no cloud, no sudden darkness, out there,
+as we looked towards the Hill of Pains."
+
+"None, dear."
+
+"Then--then--madame, I suppose it was my tears that blinded me for the
+moment."
+
+"No doubt it was your tears."
+
+But each said in her heart that it was not tears; each said: "Let not
+this thing come, O God!"  Presently, with a caress, the elder woman left
+the room; but the girl remained to watch that gloomy thing upon the Hill
+of Pains.
+
+As she stood there, with her fingers clasped upon a letter she had drawn
+from her pocket, a voice from among the palms outside floated towards
+her.
+
+"He escaped last night; the Semaphore shows that they have got upon his
+track.  I suppose they'll try to converge upon him before he gets to
+Pascal River.  Once there he might have a chance of escape; but he'll
+need a lot of luck, poor devil!"
+
+Marie's fingers tightened on the letter.
+
+Then another voice replied, and it brought a flush to the cheek of the
+girl, a hint of trouble to her eyes.  It said: "Is Miss Wyndham here
+still?"
+
+"Yes, still here.  My wife will be distressed when she leaves us."
+
+"She will not care to go, I should think.  The Hotel du Gouverneur spoils
+us for all other places in New Caledonia."
+
+"You are too kind, monsieur; I fear that those who think as you are not
+many.  After all, I am little more here than a gaoler--merely a gaoler,
+M. Tryon."
+
+"Yet, the Commandant of a military station and the Governor of a Colony."
+
+"The station is a penitentiary; the colony for liberes, ticket-of-leave
+men, and outcast Paris; with a sprinkling of gentlemen and officers dying
+of boredom.  No, my friend, we French are not colonists.  We emigrate,
+we do not colonise.  This is no colony.  We do no good here."
+
+"You forget the nickel mines."
+
+"Quarries for the convicts and for political prisoners of the lowest
+class."
+
+"The plantations?"
+
+"Ah, there I crave your pardon.  You are a planter, but you are English.
+M. Wyndham is a planter and an owner of mines, but he is English.  The
+man who has done best financially in New Caledonia is an Englishman.
+You, and a few others like you, French and English, are the only colony
+I have.  I do not rule you; you help me to rule."
+
+"We?"
+
+"By being on the side of justice and public morality; by dining with me,
+though all too seldom; by giving me a quiet hour now and then beneath
+your vines and fig-trees; and so making this uniform less burdensome to
+carry.  No, no, monsieur, I know you are about to say something very
+gracious: but no, you shall pay your compliments to the ladies."
+
+As they journeyed to the morning-room Hugh Tryon said: "Does M. Laflamme
+still come to paint Miss Wyndham?"
+
+"Yes; but it ends to-morrow, and then no more of that.  Prisoners are
+prisoners, and though Laflamme is agreeable that makes it the more
+difficult."
+
+"Why should he be treated so well, as a first-class prisoner, and others
+of the Commune be so degraded here--as Mayer, for instance?"
+
+"It is but a question of degree.  He was an artist and something of a
+dramatist; he was not at the Place Vendome at a certain critical moment;
+he was not at Montmartre at a particular terrible time; he was not a high
+officer like Mayer; he was young, with the face of a patriot.  Well, they
+sent Mayer to the galleys at Toulon first; then, among the worst of the
+prisoners here--he was too bold, too full of speech; he had not
+Laflamme's gift of silence, of pathos.  Mayer works coarsely, severely
+here; Laflamme grows his vegetables, idles about Ducos, swings in his
+hammock, and appears at inspections the picture of docility.  One day he
+sent to me the picture of my wife framed in gold--here it is.  Is it not
+charming?  The size of a franc-piece and so perfect!  You know the soft
+hearts of women."
+
+"You mean that Madame Solde--"
+
+"She persuaded me to let him come here to paint my portrait.  He has done
+so, and now he paints Marie Wyndham.  But--"
+
+"But?--Yes?"
+
+"But these things have their dangers."
+
+"Have their dangers," Hugh Tryon musingly repeated, and then added under
+his breath almost, "Escape or--"
+
+"Or something else," the Governor rather sharply interrupted; and then,
+as they were entering the room, gaily continued: "Ah, here we come,
+mademoiselle, to pay--"
+
+"To pay your surplus of compliments, monsieur le Gouverneur.  I could not
+help but hear something of what you said," responded Marie, and gave her
+hand to Tryon.
+
+"I leave you to mademoiselle's tender mercies, monsieur," said the
+Governor.  "Au revoir!"
+
+When he had gone, Hugh said: "You are gay today."
+
+"Indeed, no, I am sad."
+
+"Wherefore sad?  Is nickel proving a drug?  Or sugar a failure?  Don't
+tell me that your father says sugar is falling."  He glanced at the
+letter, which she unconsciously held in her hand.
+
+She saw his look, smoothed the letter a little nervously between her
+palms, and put it into her pocket, saying: "No, my father has not said
+that sugar is falling--but come here, will you?" and she motioned
+towards the open window.  When there, she said slowly, "That is what
+makes me sad and sorry," and she pointed to the Semaphore upon the Hill
+of Pains.
+
+"You are too tender-hearted," he remarked.  "A convict has escaped; he
+will be caught perhaps--perhaps not; and things will go on as before."
+
+"Will go on as before.  That is, the 'martinet' worse than the 'knout de
+Russe'; the 'poucettes', the 'crapaudine' on neck and ankles and wrists;
+all, all as bad as the 'Pater Noster' of the Inquisition, as Mayer said
+the other day in the face of Charpentier, the Commandant of the
+penitentiary.  How pleasant also to think of the Boulevard de Guillotine!
+I tell you it is brutal, horrible.  Think of what prisoners have to
+suffer here, whose only crime is that they were of the Commune; that they
+were just a little madder than other Frenchmen."
+
+"Pardon me if I say that as brutal things were done by the English in
+Tasmania."
+
+"Think of two hundred and sixty strokes of the 'cat.'"
+
+"You concern yourself too much about these things, I fear."
+
+"I only think that death would be easier than the life of half of the
+convicts here."
+
+"They themselves would prefer it, perhaps."
+
+"Tell me, who is the convict that has escaped?" she feverishly asked.
+"Is it a political prisoner?"
+
+"You would not know him.  He was one of the Commune who escaped shooting
+in the Place de la Concorde.  Carbourd, I think, was his name."
+
+"Carbourd, Carbourd," she repeated, and turned her head away towards the
+Semaphore.
+
+Her earnestness aroused in Tryon a sudden flame of sympathy which had its
+origin, as he well knew, in three years of growing love.  This love
+leaped up now determinedly--perhaps unwisely; but what should a blunt
+soul like Hugh Tryon know regarding the best or worst time to seek a
+woman's heart?  He came close to her now and said: "If you are so kind in
+thought for a convict, I dare hope that you would be more kind to me."
+
+"Be kind to you," she repeated, as if not understanding what he said,
+nor the look in his eyes.
+
+"For I am a prisoner, too."
+
+"A prisoner?" she rejoined a little tremulously, and coldly.
+
+"In your hands, Marie."  His eyes laid bare his heart.
+
+"Oh!" she replied, in a half-troubled, half-indignant tone, for she was
+out of touch with the occasion of his suit, and every woman has in her
+mind the time when she should and when she should not be wooed.  "Oh, why
+aren't you plain with me?  I hate enigmas."
+
+"Why do I not speak plainly?  Because, because, Marie, it is possible
+for a man to be a coward in his speech"--he touched her fingers--"when
+he loves."  She quickly drew her hand from his.  "Oh, can't we be friends
+without that?"
+
+There was a sound of footsteps at the window.  Both turned, and saw the
+political prisoner, Rive Laflamme, followed by a guard.
+
+"He comes to finish my portrait," she said.  "This is the last sitting."
+
+"Marie, must I go like this?  When may I see you again?  When will you
+answer me?  You will not make all the hopes to end here?"
+
+It was evident that some deep trouble was on the girl.  She flushed
+hotly, as if she were about to reply hotly also, but she changed quickly,
+and said, not unkindly: "When M. Laflamme has gone."  And now, as if
+repenting of her unreasonable words of a moment before, she added: "Oh,
+please don't think me hard.  I am sorry that I grieve you.  I'm afraid
+I am not altogether well, not altogether happy."
+
+"I will wait till he has gone," the planter replied.  At the door he
+turned as if to say something, but he only looked steadily, sadly at her,
+and then was gone.
+
+She stood where he had left her, gazing in melancholy abstraction at the
+door through which he had passed.  There were footsteps without in the
+hall-way.  The door was opened, and a servant announced M. Laflamme.  The
+painter-prisoner entered followed by the soldier.  Immediately afterward
+Mrs. Angers, Marie's elderly companion, sidled in gently.
+
+Laflamme bowed low, then turned and said coolly to the soldier: "You may
+wait outside to-day, Roupet.  This is my last morning's work.  It is
+important, and you splutter and cough.  You are too exhausting for a
+studio."
+
+But Roupet answered: "Monsieur, I have my orders."
+
+"Nonsense.  This is the Governor's house.  I am perfectly safe here.
+Give your orders a change of scene.  You would better enjoy the
+refreshing coolness of the corridors this morning.  You won't?  Oh, yes,
+you will.  Here's a cigarette--there, take the whole bunch--I paid too
+much for them, but no matter.  Ah, pardon me, mademoiselle.  I forgot
+that you cannot smoke here, Roupet; but you shall have them all the same,
+there!  Parbleu! you are a handsome rascal, if you weren't so wheezy!
+Come, come, Roupet, make yourself invisible."
+
+The eyes of the girl were on the soldier.  They did the work better; a
+warrior has a soft place in his heart for a beautiful woman.  He wheeled
+suddenly, and disappeared from the room, motioning that he would remain
+at the door.
+
+The painting began, and for half an hour or more was continued without a
+word.  In the silence the placid Angers had fallen asleep.
+
+Nodding slightly towards her, Rive Laflamme said in a low voice to Marie:
+"Her hearing at its best is not remarkable?"
+
+"Not remarkable."
+
+He spoke more softly.  "That is good.  Well, the portrait is done.  It
+has been the triumph of my life to paint it.  Not that first joy I had
+when I won the great prize in Paris equals it.  I am glad: and yet--and
+yet there was much chance that it would never be finished."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Carbourd is gone."
+
+"Yes, I know-well?"
+
+"Well, I should be gone also were it not for this portrait.  The chance
+came.  I was tempted.  I determined to finish this.  I stayed."
+
+"Do you think that he will be caught?"
+
+"Not alive.  Carbourd has suffered too much--the galleys, the corde,
+the triangle, everything but the guillotine.  Carbourd has a wife and
+children--ah, yes, you know all about it.  You remember that letter she
+sent: I can recall every word; can you?"
+
+The girl paused, and then with a rapt sympathy in her face repeated
+slowly: "I am ill, and our children cry for food.  The wife calls to her
+husband, my darlings say, 'Will father never come home?'"
+
+Marie's eyes were moist.
+
+"Mademoiselle, he was no common criminal.  He would have died for the
+cause grandly.  He loved France too wildly.  That was his sin."
+
+"Carbourd is free," she said, as though to herself.
+
+"He has escaped."  His voice was the smallest whisper.  "And now my time
+has come."
+
+"When?  And where do you go?"
+
+"To-night, and to join Carbourd, if I can, at the Pascal River.  At King
+Ovi's Cave, if possible."
+
+The girl was very pale.  She turned and looked at Angers, who still
+slept.  "And then?"
+
+"And then, as I have said to you before, to the coast, to board the
+Parroquet, which will lie off the island Saint Jerome three days from now
+to carry us away into freedom.  It is all arranged by our 'Underground
+Railway.'"
+
+"And you tell me all this--why?" the girl said falteringly.
+
+"Because you said that you would not let a hunted fugitive starve; that
+you would give us horses, with which we could travel the Brocken Path
+across the hills.  Here is the plan of the river that you drew; at this
+point is the King's Cave which you discovered, and is known only to
+yourself."
+
+"I ought not to have given it to you; but--"
+
+"Ah, you will not repent of a noble action, of a great good to me--
+Marie?"
+
+"Hush, monsieur.  Indeed, you may not speak to me so.  You forget.
+I am sorry for you; I think you do not deserve this--banishment; you are
+unhappy here; and I told you of the King's Cave-that was all."
+
+"Ah no, that is not all!  To be free, that is good; but only that I may
+be a man again; that I may love my art--and you; that I may once again
+be proud of France."
+
+"Monsieur, I repeat, you must not speak so.  Do not take advantage of my
+willingness to serve you."
+
+"A thousand pardons!  but that was in my heart, and I hoped, I hoped--"
+
+"You must not hope.  I can only know you as M. Laflamme, the--"
+
+"The political convict; ah, yes, I know," he said bitterly: "a convict
+over whom the knout is held; who may at any moment be shot down like a
+hare: who has but two prayers in all the world: to be free in France once
+more, and to be loved by one--"
+
+She interrupted him: "Your first prayer is natural."
+
+"Natural?--Do you know what song we sang in the cages of the ship that
+carried us into this evil exile here?  Do you know what brought tears to
+the eyes of the guards?--What made the captain and the sailors turn their
+heads away from us, lest we should see that their faces were wet?  What
+rendered the soldiers who had fought us in the Commune more human for the
+moment?  It was this:
+
+                  "'Adieu, patrie!
+                    L'onde est en furie,
+                    Adieu patrie,
+                    Azur!
+                    Adieu, maison, treille au fruit mer,
+
+                    Adieu les fruits d'or du vieux mur!
+                    Adieu, patrie,
+                    Ciel, foret, prairie;
+                    Adieu patrie,
+                    Azur.'"
+
+"Hush, monsieur!" the girl said with a swift gesture.  He looked and saw
+that Angers was waking.  "If I live," he hurriedly whispered, "I shall be
+at the King's Cave to-morrow night.  And you--the horses?"
+
+"You shall have my help and the horses."  Then, more loudly: "Au revoir,
+monsieur."
+
+At that moment Madame Solde entered the room.  She acknowledged
+Laflamme's presence gravely.
+
+"It is all done, madame," he said, pointing to the portrait.
+
+Madame Solde bowed coldly, but said: "It is very well done, monsieur."
+
+"It is my masterpiece," remarked the painter pensively.  "Will you permit
+me to say adieu, mesdames?  I go to join my amiable and attentive
+companion, Roupet the guard."
+
+He bowed himself out.
+
+Madame Solde drew Marie aside.  Angers discreetly left.
+
+The Governor's wife drew the girl's head back on her shoulder.  "Marie,"
+she said, "M. Tryon does not seem happy; cannot you change that?"
+
+With quivering lips the girl laid her head on the Frenchwoman's breast,
+and said: "Ah, do not ask me now.  Madame, I am going home to-day."
+
+"To-day?  But, so soon!--I wished--"
+
+"I must go to-day."
+
+"But we had hoped you would stay while M. Tryon--"
+
+"M. Tryon--will--go with me--perhaps."
+
+"Ah, my dear Marie!"  The woman kissed the girl, and wondered.
+
+That afternoon Marie was riding across the Winter Valley to her father's
+plantation at the Pascal River.  Angers was driving ahead.  Beside Marie
+rode Tryon silent and attentive.  Arrived at the homestead, she said to
+him in the shadow of the naoulis: "Hugh Tryon, what would you do to prove
+the love you say you have for me?"
+
+"All that a man could do I would do."
+
+"Can you see the Semaphore from here?"
+
+"Yes, there it is clear against the sky--look!"
+
+But the girl did not look.  She touched her eyelids with her finger-tips,
+as though they were fevered, and then said: "Many have escaped.  They are
+searching for Carbourd and--"
+
+"Yes, Marie?"
+
+"And M. Laflamme--"
+
+"Laflamme!" he said sharply.  Then, noticing how at his brusqueness the
+paleness of her face changed to a startled flush for an instant, his
+generosity conquered, and he added gently: "Well, I fancied he would try,
+but what do you know about that, Marie?"
+
+"He and Carbourd were friends.  They were chained together in the
+galleys, they lived--at first--together here.  They would risk life to
+return to France."
+
+"Tell me," said he, "what do you know of this?  What is it to you?"
+
+"You wish to know all before you will do what I ask.
+
+"I will do anything you ask, because you will not ask of me what is
+unmanly."
+
+"M. Laflamme will escape to-night if possible, and join Carbourd on the
+Pascal River, at a safe spot that I know."  She told him of the Cave.
+
+"Yes, yes, I understand.  You would help him.  And I?"
+
+"You will help me.  You will?"
+
+There was a slight pause, and then he said: "Yes, I will.  But think what
+this is to an Englishman-to yourself, to be accomplice to the escape of a
+French prisoner."
+
+"I gave a promise to a man whom I think deserves it.  He believed he was
+a patriot.  If you were in that case, and I were a Frenchwoman, I would
+do the same for you."
+
+He smiled rather grimly and said: "If it please you that this man escape,
+I shall hope he may, and will help you.  .  .  .  Here comes your
+father."
+
+"I could not let my father know," she said.  "He has no sympathy for any
+one like that, for any one at all, I think, but me."
+
+"Don't be down-hearted.  If you have set your heart on this, I will try
+to bring it about, God knows!  Now let us be less gloomy.  Conspirators
+should smile.  That is the cue.  Besides, the world is bright.  Look at
+the glow upon the hills."
+
+"I suppose the Semaphore is glistening on the Hill of Pains; but I cannot
+see it."
+
+He did not understand her.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+A few hours after this conversation, Laflamme sought to accomplish his
+escape.  He had lately borne a letter from the Commandant, which
+permitted him to go from point to point outside the peninsula of Ducos,
+where the least punished of the political prisoners were kept.  He
+depended somewhat on this for his escape.  Carbourd had been more heroic,
+but then Carbourd was desperate.  Laflamme believed more in ability than
+force.  It was ability and money that had won over the captain of the
+Parroquet, coupled with the connivance of an old member of the Commune,
+who was now a guard.  This night there was increased alertness, owing to
+the escape of Carbourd; and himself, if not more closely watched, was at
+least open to quick suspicion owing to his known friendship for Carbourd.
+He strolled about the fortified enclosure, chatting to fellow prisoners,
+and waiting for the call which should summon them to the huts.  Through
+years of studied good-nature he had come to be regarded as a contented
+prisoner.  He had no enemies save one among the guards.  This man Maillot
+he had offended by thwarting his continued ill-treatment of a young lad
+who had been one of the condemned of the Commune, and whose hammock, at
+last, by order of the Commandant, was slung in Laflamme's hut.  For this
+kindness and interposition the lad was grateful and devoted.  He had been
+set to labour in the nickel mines; but that came near to killing him, and
+again through Laflamme's pleading he had been made a prisoner of the
+first class, and so relieved of all heavy tasks.  Not even he suspected
+the immediate relations of Laflamme and Carbourd; nor that Laflamme was
+preparing for escape.
+
+As Laflamme waited for the summons to huts, a squad of prisoners went
+clanking by him, manacled.  They had come from road-making.  These never
+heard from wife nor child, nor held any commerce with the outside world,
+nor had any speech with each other, save by a silent gesture--language
+which eluded the vigilance of the guards.  As the men passed, Laflamme
+looked at them steadily.  They knew him well.  Some of them remembered
+his speeches at the Place Vendome.  They bore him no ill-will that he did
+not suffer as they.  He made a swift sign to a prisoner near the rear of
+the column.  The man smiled, but gave no answering token.  This was part
+of the unspoken vocabulary, and, in this instance, conveyed the two
+words: I escape.
+
+A couple of hours later Laflamme rose from a hammock in his hut, and
+leant over the young lad, who was sleeping.  He touched him gently.
+
+The lad waked: "Yes, yes, monsieur."
+
+"I am going away, my friend."
+
+"To escape like Carbourd?"
+
+"Yes, I hope, like Carbourd."
+
+"May I not go also, monsieur?  I am not afraid."
+
+"No, lad.  If there must be death one is enough.  You must stay.
+Good-bye."
+
+"You will see my mother?  She is old, and she grieves."
+
+"Yes, I will see your mother.  And more; you shall be free.  I will see
+to that.  Be patient, little comrade.  Nay, nay, hush!  .  .  .  No,
+thanks.  Adieu!"  He put his hands on the lad's shoulder and kissed his
+forehead.
+
+"I wish I had died at the Barricades.  But, yes, I will be brave--be sure
+of that."
+
+"You shall not die--you shall live in France, which is better.  Once
+more, adieu!"  Laflamme passed out.  It was raining.  He knew that if
+he could satisfy the first sentinel he should stand a better chance of
+escape, since he had had so much freedom of late; and to be passed by one
+would help with others.  He went softly, but he was soon challenged.
+
+"Halt!  Who goes there?"
+
+"Condemned of the Commune--by order."
+
+"Whose order?"
+
+"That of the Commandant."
+
+"Advance order."
+
+The sentinel knew him.  "Ah, Laflamme," he said, and raised the point of
+his bayonet.  The paper was produced.  It did not entitle him to go about
+at night, and certainly not beyond the enclosure without a guard--it was
+insufficient.  In unfolding the paper Laflamme purposely dropped it in
+the mud.  He hastily picked it up, and, in doing so, smeared it.  He
+wiped it, leaving the signature comparatively plain--nothing else.
+"Well," said the sentinel, "the signature is right.  Where do you go?"
+
+"To Government House."
+
+"I do not know that I should let you pass.  But--well, look out that the
+next sentinel doesn't bayonet you.  You came on me suddenly."
+
+The next sentinel was a Kanaka.  The previous formula was repeated.  The
+Kanaka examined the paper long, and then said: "You cannot pass."
+
+"But the other sentinel passed me.  Would you get him into trouble?"
+
+The Kanaka frowned, hesitated, then said: "That is another matter.  Well,
+pass."
+
+Twice more the same formula and arguments were used.  At last he heard a
+voice in challenge that he knew.  It was that of Maillot.  This was a
+more difficult game.  His order was taken with a malicious sneer by the
+sentinel.  At that instant Laflamme threw his arms swiftly round the
+other, clapped a hand on his mouth, and, with a dexterous twist of leg,
+threw him backward, till it seemed as if the spine of the soldier must
+break.  It was impossible to struggle against this trick of wrestling,
+which Laflamme had learned from a famous Cornish wrestler, in a summer
+spent on the English coast.
+
+"If you shout or speak I will kill you!" he said to Maillot, and then
+dropped him heavily on the ground, where he lay senseless.  Laflamme
+stooped down and felt his heart.  "Alive!" he said, then seized the
+rifle and plunged into the woods.  The moon at that moment broke through
+the clouds, and he saw the Semaphore like a ghost pointing towards Pascal
+River.  He waved his hand towards his old prison, and sped away.
+
+But others were thinking of the Semaphore at this moment, others saw it
+indistinct, yet melancholy, in the moonlight.  The Governor and his wife
+saw it, and Madame Solde said: "Alfred, I shall be glad when I shall see
+that no more."
+
+"You have too much feeling."
+
+"I suppose Marie makes me think more of it to-day.  She wept this morning
+over all this misery and punishment."
+
+"You think that.  Well, perhaps something more--"
+
+"What more?"
+
+"Laflamme."
+
+"No, no, it is impossible!"
+
+"Indeed it is as I say.  My wife, you are blind.  I chanced to see
+him with her yesterday.  I should have prevented him coming to-day,
+but I knew it was his last day with the portrait, and that all should
+end here."
+
+"We have done wrong in this--the poor child!  Besides, she has, I fear,
+another sorrow coming.  It showed itself to me to-day for the first
+time."  Then she whispered to him, and he started and sighed, and said at
+last:
+
+"But it must be saved.  By--!  it shall be saved!"  And at that moment
+Marie Wyndham was standing in the open window of the library of Pascal
+House.  She had been thinking of her recent visit to the King's Cave,
+where she had left food, and of the fact that Carbourd was not there.
+She raised her face towards the moon and sighed.  She was thinking of
+something else.  She was not merely sentimental, for she said, as if she
+had heard the words of the Governor and Madame Solde: "Oh! if it could be
+saved!"
+
+There was a rustle in the shrubbery near her.  She turned towards the
+sound.  A man came quickly towards her.  "I am Carbourd," he said; "I
+could not find the way to the Cave.  They were after me.  They have
+tracked me.  Tell me quick how to go."
+
+She swiftly gave him directions, and he darted away.  Again there was a
+rustle in the leaves, and a man stepped forth.  Something glistened in
+his hands--a rifle, though she could not see it plainly.  It was levelled
+at the flying figure of Carbourd.  There was a report.  Marie started
+forward with her hands on her temples and a sharp cry.  She started
+forward--into absolute darkness.  There was a man's footsteps going
+swiftly by her.  Why was it so dark?  She stretched out her hands with a
+moan.
+
+"Oh!  mother!--oh!  mother!  I am blind!" she cried.
+
+But her mother was sleeping unresponsive beyond the dark-beyond all dark.
+It was, perhaps, natural that she should cry to the dead and not to the
+living.
+
+Marie was blind.  She had known it was coming, and it had tried her, as
+it would have tried any of the race of women.  She had, when she needed
+it most, put love from her, and would not let her own heart speak, even
+to herself.  She had sought to help one who loved her, and to fully prove
+the other--though the proving, she knew, was not necessary--before the
+darkness came.  But here it was suddenly sent upon her by the shock of a
+rifle shot.  It would have sent a shudder to a stronger heart than hers--
+that, in reply to her call on her dead mother, there came from the trees
+the shrill laugh of the mopoke--the sardonic bird of the South.
+
+As she stood there, with this tragedy enveloping her, the dull boom of a
+cannon came across the valley.  "From Ducos," she said.  "M. Laflamme has
+escaped.  God help us all!"  And she turned and groped her way into the
+room she had left.
+
+She felt for a chair and sat down.  She must think of what she now was.
+She wondered if Carbourd was killed.  She listened and thought not, since
+there was no sound without.  But she knew that the house would be roused.
+She bowed her head in her hands.  Surely she might weep a little for
+herself--she who had been so troubled for others.  It is strange, but she
+thought of her flowers and birds, and wondered how she should tend them;
+of her own room which faced the north--the English north that she loved
+so well; of her horse, and marvelled if he would know that she could not
+see him; and, lastly, of a widening horizon of pain, spread before the
+eyes of her soul, in which her father and another moved.
+
+It seemed to her that she sat there for hours, it was in reality minutes
+only.  A firm step and the opening of a door roused her.  She did not
+turn her head--what need?  She knew the step.  There was almost a touch
+of ironical smiling at her lips, as she thought how she must hear and
+feel things only, in the future.  A voice said: "Marie, are you here?"
+
+"I am here."
+
+"I'll strike a match so that you can see I'm not a bushranger.  There has
+been shooting in the grounds.  Did you hear it?"
+
+"Yes.  A soldier firing at Carbourd."
+
+"You saw him?"
+
+"Yes.  He could not find the Cave.  I directed him.  Immediately after he
+was fired upon."
+
+"He can't have been hit.  There are no signs of him.  There, that's
+lighter and better, isn't it?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+She had risen, but she did not turn towards him.  He came nearer to her.
+The enigmatical tone struck him strangely, but he could find nothing less
+commonplace to say than: "You don't prefer the exaggerated gloaming, do
+you?"
+
+"No, I do not prefer the gloaming, but why should not one be patient?"
+
+"Be patient!" he repeated, and came nearer still.  "Are you hurt or
+angry?"
+
+"I am hurt, but not angry."
+
+"What have I done?--or is it I?"
+
+"It is not you.  You are very good.  It is nobody but God.  I am hurt,
+because He is angry, perhaps."
+
+"Tell me what is the matter.  Look at me."  He faced her now-faced her
+eyes, looking blindly straight before her.
+
+"Hugh," she said, and she put her hand out slightly, not exactly to him,
+but as if to protect him from the blow which she herself must deal: "I am
+looking at you now."
+
+"Yes, yes, but so strangely, and not in my eyes."
+
+"I cannot look into your eyes, because, Hugh, I am blind."  Her hand went
+further out towards him.
+
+He took it silently and pressed it to his bosom as he saw that she spoke
+true; and the shadow of the thing fell on him.  The hand held to his
+breast felt how he was trembling from the shock.
+
+"Sit down, Hugh," she said, "and I will tell you all; but do not hold my
+hand so, or I cannot."
+
+Sitting there face to face, with deep furrows growing in his countenance,
+and a quiet sorrow spreading upon her cheek and forehead, she told the
+story how, since her childhood, her sight had played her false now and
+then, and within the past month had grown steadily uncertain.  "And now,"
+she said at last, "I am blind.  I think I should like to tell my father--
+if you please.  Then when I have seen him and poor Angers, if you will
+come again!  There is work to be done.  I hoped it would be finished
+before this came; but--there, good friend, go; I will sit here quietly."
+
+She could not see his face, but she heard him say: "My love, my love,"
+very softly, as he rose to go; and she smiled sadly to herself.  She
+folded her hands in her lap, and thought, not bitterly, not listlessly,
+but deeply.  She wanted to consider all cheerfully now; she tried to do
+so.  She was musing among those flying perceptions, those nebulous facts
+of a new life, experienced for the first time; she was now not herself as
+she had been; another woman was born; and she was feeling carefully along
+the unfamiliar paths which she must tread.  She was not glad that these
+words ran through her mind continuously at first:
+
+          "A land of darkness as darkness itself, and of the shadow of
+          death without any order, and where the light is darkness."
+
+Her brave nature rose against the moody spirit which sought to take
+possession of her, and she cried out in her heart valiantly: "But there
+is order, there is order.  I shall feel things as they ought to be.  I
+think I could tell now what was true and what was false in man or woman;
+it would be in their presence not in their faces."
+
+She stopped speaking.  She heard footsteps.  Her father entered.  Hugh
+Tryon had done his task gently, but the old planter, selfish and hard as
+he was, loved his daughter; and the meeting was bitter for him.  The prop
+of his pride seemed shaken beyond recovery.  But the girl's calm
+comforted them all, and poignancy became dull pain.  Before parting for
+the night Marie said to Hugh: "This is what I wish you to do for me to
+bring over two of your horses to Point Assumption on the river.  There is
+a glen beyond that as you know, and from it runs the steep and dangerous
+Brocken Path across the hills.  I wish you to wait there until
+M. Laflamme and Carbourd come by the river--that is their only chance.
+If they get across the hills they can easily reach the sea.  I know that
+two of your horses have been over the path; they are sure-footed; they
+would know it in the night.  Is it not so?"
+
+"It is so.  There are not a dozen horses in the colony that could be
+trusted on it at night, but mine are safe.  I shall do all you wish."
+
+She put out both her hands and felt for his shoulders, and let them rest
+there for a moment, saying: "I ask much, and I can give no reward, except
+the gratitude of one who would rather die than break a promise.  It isn't
+much, but it is all that is worth your having.  Good-night.  Good-bye."
+
+"Good-night.  Good-bye," he gently replied; but he said something beneath
+his breath that sounded worth the hearing.
+
+The next morning while her father was gone to consult the chief army-
+surgeon at Noumea, Marie strolled with Angers in the grounds.  At length
+she said: "Angers, take me to the river, and then on down, until we come
+to the high banks."  With her hand on Angers' arm, and in her face that
+passive gentleness which grows so sweetly from sightless eyes till it
+covers all the face, they passed slowly towards the river.  When they
+came to the higher banks covered with dense scrub, Angers paused, and
+told Marie where they were.
+
+"Find me the she-oak tree," the girl said; "there is only one, you know."
+
+"Here it is, my dear.  There, your hand is on it now."
+
+"Thank you.  Wait here, Angers, I shall be back presently."
+
+"But oh, my dear--"
+
+"Please do as I say, Angers, and do not worry."  The girl pushed aside
+some bushes, and was lost to view.  She pressed along vigilantly by a
+descending path, until her feet touched rocky ground.  She nodded to
+herself, then creeping between two bits of jutting rock at her right,
+immediately stood at the entrance to a cave, hidden completely from the
+river and from the banks above.  At the entrance, for which she felt, she
+paused and said aloud: "Is there any one here?"  Something clicked far
+within the cave.  It sounded like a rifle.  Then stealthy steps were
+heard, and a voice said:
+
+"Ah, mademoiselle!"
+
+"You are Carbourd?"
+
+"As you see, mademoiselle."
+
+"You escaped safely then from the rifle-shot?  Where is the soldier?"
+
+"He fell into the river.  He was drowned."
+
+"You are telling me truth?"
+
+"Yes, he stumbled in and sank--on my soul!"
+
+"You did not try to save him?"
+
+"He lied and got me six months in irons once; he called down on my back
+one hundred and fifty lashes, a year ago; he had me kept on bread and
+water, and degraded to the fourth class, where I could never hear from my
+wife and children--never write to them.  I lost one eye in the quarries
+because he made me stand too near a lighted fuse--"
+
+"Poor man, poor man!" she said.  "You found the food I left here?"
+
+"Yes, God bless you!  And my wife and children will bless you too, if I
+see France again."
+
+"You know where the boat is?"
+
+"I know, mademoiselle."
+
+"When you reach Point Assumption you will find horses there to take you
+across the Brocken Path.  M. Laflamme knows.  I hope that you will both
+escape; that you will be happy in France with your wife and children."
+
+"You will not come here again?"
+
+"No.  If M. Laflamme should not arrive, and you should go alone, leave
+one pair of oars; then I shall know.  Good-bye."
+
+"Good-bye, mademoiselle.  A thousand times I will pray for you.  Ah, mon
+Dieu!  take care!--you are on the edge of the great tomb."
+
+She stood perfectly still.  At her feet was a dark excavation where was
+the skeleton of Ovi the King.  This was the hidden burial-place of the
+modern Hiawatha of these savage islands, unknown even to the natives
+themselves, and kept secret with a half-superstitious reverence by this
+girl, who had discovered it a few months before.
+
+"I had forgotten," she said.  "Please take my hand and set me right at
+the entrance."
+
+"Your hand, mademoiselle?  Mine is so--!  It is not dark."
+
+"I am blind now."
+
+"Blind--blind!  Oh, the pitiful thing!  Since when, mademoiselle?"
+
+"Since the soldier fired on you-the shock.  .  .  .  "
+
+The convict knelt at her feet.  "Ah, mademoiselle, you are a good angel.
+I shall die of grief.  To think--for such as me!"
+
+"You will live to love your wife and children.  This is the will of God
+with me.  Am I in the path now?  Ah, thank you."
+
+"But, M. Laflamme--this will be a great sorrow to him."
+
+Twice she seemed about to speak, but nothing came save good-bye.
+Then she crept cautiously away among the bushes and along the narrow
+path, the eyes of the convict following her.  She had done a deed which,
+she understood, the world would blame her for if it knew, would call
+culpable or foolishly heroic; but she smiled, because she understood also
+that she had done that which her own conscience and heart approved, and
+she was content.
+
+At this time Laflamme was stealing watchfully through the tropical scrub,
+where hanging vines tore his hands, and the sickening perfume of jungle
+flowers overcame him more than the hard journey which he had undergone
+during the past twelve hours.
+
+Several times he had been within voice of his pursuers, and once a Kanaka
+scout passed close to him.  He had had nothing to eat, he had had no
+sleep, he suffered from a wound in his neck caused by the broken
+protruding branch of a tree; but he had courage, and he was struggling
+for liberty--a tolerably sweet thing when one has it not.  He found the
+Cave at last, and with far greater ease than Carbourd had done, because
+he knew the ground better, and his instinct was keener.  His greeting to
+Carbourd was nonchalantly cordial:
+
+"Well, you see, comrade, King Ovi's Cave is a reality."
+
+"So."
+
+"I saw the boat.  The horses?  What do you know?"
+
+"They will be at Point Assumption to-night."
+
+"Then we go to-night.  We shall have to run the chances of rifles along
+the shore at a range something short, but we have done that before, at
+the Barricades, eh, Carbourd?"
+
+"At the Barricades.  It is a pity that we cannot take Citizen Louise
+Michel with us."
+
+"Her time will come."
+
+"She has no children crying and starving at home like--"
+
+"Like yours, Carbourd, like yours.  Well, I am starving here.  Give me
+something to eat.  .  .  .  Ah, that is good--excellent!  What more can
+we want but freedom!  Till the darkness of tyranny be overpast--overpast,
+eh?"
+
+This speech brought another weighty matter to Carbourd's mind.  He said:
+
+"I do not wish to distress you, but--"
+
+"Now, Carbourd, what is the matter?  Faugh!  this place smells musty.
+What's that--a tomb?  Speak out, Citizen Carbourd."
+
+"It is this: Mademoiselle Wyndham is blind."  Carbourd told the story
+with a great anxiety in his words.
+
+"The poor mademoiselle--is it so?  A thousand pities!  So kind, so young,
+so beautiful.  Ah, I am distressed, and I finished her portrait
+yesterday!  Yes, I remember her eyes looked too bright, and then again
+too dull: but I thought that it was excitement, and so--that!"
+
+Laflamme's regret was real enough up to a certain point, but, in
+sincerity and value, it was chasms below that of Hugh Tryon, who, even
+now, was getting two horses ready to give the Frenchmen their chance.
+
+After a pause Laflamme said: "She will not come here again, Carbourd?
+No?  Ah, well, perhaps it is better so; but I should have liked to speak
+my thanks to her."
+
+That night Marie sat by the window of the sitting-room, with the light
+burning, and Angers asleep in a chair beside her--sat till long after
+midnight, in the thought that Laflamme, if he had reached the Cave,
+would, perhaps, dare something to see her and bid her good-bye.  She
+would of course have told him not to come, but he was chivalrous, and
+then her blindness would touch him.  Yet as the hours went by the thought
+came: was he, was he so chivalrous?  was he altogether true?  .  .  .
+He did not come.  The next morning Angers took her to where the boat had
+been, but it was gone, and no oars were left behind.  So, both had sought
+escape in it.
+
+She went to the Cave.  She took Angers with her now.  Upon the wall a
+paper was found.  It was a note from M. Laflamme.  She asked Angers to
+give it to her without reading it.  She put it in her pocket and kept it
+there until she should see Hugh Tryon.  He should read it to her.
+She said to herself as she felt the letter in her pocket: "He loved me.
+It was the least that I could do.  I am so glad."  Yet she was not
+altogether glad either, and disturbing thoughts crossed the parallels
+of her pleasure.
+
+The Governor and Madame Solde first brought news of the complete escape
+of the prisoners.  The two had fled through the hills by the Brocken
+Path, and though pursued after crossing, had reached the coast, and were
+taken aboard the Parroquet, which sailed away towards Australia.  It is
+probable that Marie's visitors had their suspicions regarding the escape,
+but they said nothing, and did not make her uncomfortable.  Just now they
+were most concerned for her bitter misfortune.  Madame Solde said to her:
+"My poor Marie--does it feel so dreadful, so dark?"
+
+"No, madame, it is not so bad.  There are so many things which one does
+not wish to see, and one is spared the pain."
+
+"But you will see again.  When you go to England, to great physicians
+there."
+
+"Then I should have three lives, madame: when I could see, when sight
+died, and when sight was born again.  How wise I should be!"
+
+They left her sadly, and after a time she heard footsteps that she knew.
+She came forward and greeted Tryon.
+
+"Ah," she said, "all's well with them, I know; and you were so good."
+
+"They are safe upon the seas," he gently replied, and he kissed her hand.
+
+"Now you will read this letter for me.  M. Laflamme left it behind in the
+Cave."
+
+With a pang he took it, and read thus:
+
+     DEAR FRIEND,--My grief for your misfortune is inexpressible.  If it
+     were possible I should say so in person, but there is danger, and we
+     must fly at once.  You shall hear from me in full gratitude when I
+     am in safety.  I owe you so many thanks, as I give you so much of
+     devotion.  But there is the future for all.  Mademoiselle, I kiss
+     your hand.
+
+                                   Always yours,
+                                        RIVE LAFLAMME.
+
+"Hugh!" she said sadly when he had finished, "I seem to have new
+knowledge of things, now that I am blind.  I think this letter is not
+altogether real.  You see, that was his way of saying-good-bye."
+
+What Hugh Tryon thought, he did not say.  He had met the Governor on his
+way to Pascal House, and had learned some things which were not for her
+to know.
+
+She continued: "I could not bear that one who was innocent of any real
+crime, who was a great artist, and who believed himself a patriot, should
+suffer so here.  When he asked me I helped him.  Yet I suppose I was
+selfish, wasn't I?  It was because he loved me."
+
+Hugh spoke breathlessly: "And because--you loved him, Marie?"
+
+Her head was lifted quickly, as though she saw, and was looking him in
+the eyes.  "Oh no, oh no," she cried, "I never loved him.  I was sorry
+for him--that was all."
+
+"Marie, Marie," he said gently, while she shook her head a little
+pitifully, "did you, then, love any one else?"
+
+She was silent for a space and then she said: "Yes--Oh, Hugh, I am so
+sorry for your sake that I am blind, and cannot marry you."
+
+"But, my darling, you shall not always be blind, you shall see again.
+And you shall marry me also.  As though--life of my life! as though one's
+love could live but by the sight of the eyes!"
+
+"My poor Hugh!  But, blind, I could not marry you.  It would not be just
+to you."
+
+He smiled with a happy hopeful determination; "But if you should see
+again?"
+
+"Oh, then.  .  .  ."
+
+She married him, and in time her sight returned, though not completely.
+Tryon never told her, as the Governor had told him, that Rive Laflamme,
+when a prisoner in New Caledonia, had a wife in Paris: and he is man
+enough to hope that she may never know.
+
+But to this hour he has a profound regret that duels are not in vogue
+among Englishmen.
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Preserved a marked unconsciousness
+Surely she might weep a little for herself
+Time when she should and when she should not be wooed
+Where the light is darkness
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CUMNER'S SON AND OTHER SOUTH SEA FOLK
+
+by Gilbert Parker
+
+Volume 5.
+
+
+
+A PAGAN OF THE SOUTH
+
+
+When Blake Shorland stepped from the steamer Belle Sauvage upon the quay
+at Noumea, he proceeded, with the alertness of the trained newspaper
+correspondent, to take his bearings.  So this was New Caledonia, the home
+of outcast, criminal France, the recent refuge of Communist exiles, of
+Rochefort, Louise Michel, Felix Rastoul, and the rest!  Over there to the
+left was Ile Nou, the convict prison; on the hill was the Governor's
+residence; below, the Government establishments with their red-tiled
+roofs; and hidden away in a luxuriance of tropical vegetation lay the
+houses of the citizens.  He stroked his black moustache thoughtfully for
+a moment, and put his hand to his pocket to see that his letters of
+introduction from the French Consul at Sydney to Governor Rapont and his
+journalistic credentials were there.  Then he remembered the advice of
+the captain of the Belle Sauvage as to the best hotel, and started
+towards it.  He had not been shown the way, but his instincts directed
+him.  He knew where it ought to be, according to the outlines of the
+place.
+
+It proved to be where he thought, and, having engaged rooms, sent for his
+luggage, and refreshed himself, he set out to explore the town.  His
+prudent mind told him that he ought to proceed at once to Governor Rapont
+and present his letters of commendation, for he was in a country where
+feeling was running high against English interference with the
+deportation of French convicts to New Caledonia, and the intention of
+France to annex the New Hebrides.  But he knew also that so soon as these
+letters were presented, his freedom of action would be restricted, either
+by a courtesy which would be so constant as to become surveillance, or by
+an injunction having no such gloss.  He had come to study French
+government in New Caledonia, to gauge the extent of the menace that
+the convict question bore towards Australia, and to tell his tale to
+Australia, and to such other countries as would listen.  The task was not
+pleasant, and it had its dangers, too, of a certain kind.  But Shorland
+had had difficulty and peril often in his life, and he borrowed no
+trouble.  Proceeding along the Rue de l'Alma, and listening to the babble
+of French voices round him, he suddenly paused abstractedly, and said to
+himself "Somehow it brings back Paris to me, and that last night there,
+when I bade Freeman good-bye.  Poor old boy, I'm glad better days are
+coming for him.  Sure to be better, if he marries Clare.  Why didn't he
+do it seven years ago, and save all that other horrible business?"
+
+Then he moved on, noticing that he was the object of remark, but as it
+was daytime, and in the street he felt himself safe.  Glancing up at a
+doorway he saw a familiar Paris name--Cafe Voisin.  This was interesting.
+It was in the Cafe Voisin that he had touched a farewell glass with Luke
+Freeman, the one bosom friend of his life.  He entered this Cafe Voisin
+with the thought of how vague would be the society which he would meet in
+such a reproduction of a famous Parisian haunt.  He thought of a Cafe
+chantant at Port Said, and said to himself, "It can't be worse than
+that."  He was right then.  The world had no shambles of ghastly
+frivolity and debauchery like those of Port Said.
+
+The Cafe Voisin had many visitors, and Shorland saw at a glance who they
+were--liberes, or ticket-of-leave men, a drunken soldier or two, and a
+few of that class who with an army are called camp-followers, in an
+English town roughs, in a French convict settlement recidivistes.  He
+felt at once that he had entered upon a trying experience; but he also
+felt that the luck would be with him, as it had been with him so many
+times these late years.  He sat down at a small table, and called to a
+haggard waitress near to bring him a cup of coffee.  He then saw that
+there was another woman in the room.  Leaning with her elbows on the bar
+and her chin in her hands, she fixed her eyes on him as he opened and
+made a pretence of reading La Nouvelle Caledonie.  Looking up, he met her
+eyes again; there was hatred in them if ever he saw it, or what might be
+called constitutional diablerie.  He felt that this woman, whoever she
+was, had power of a curious kind; too much power for her to be altogether
+vile, too physically healthy to be of that class to which the girl who
+handed him his coffee belonged.  There was not a sign of gaudiness about
+her; not a ring, a necklace, or a bracelet.  Her dress was of cotton,
+faintly pink and perfectly clean; her hair was brown, and waving away
+loosely from her forehead.  But her eyes--was there a touch of insanity
+there?  Perhaps because they were rather deeply set, though large, and
+because they seemed to glow in the shadows made by the brows, the strange
+intensity was deepened.  But Shorland could not get rid of the feeling of
+active malevolence in them.  The mouth was neither small nor sensuous,
+the chin was strong without being coarse, the figure was not suggestive.
+The hands--confound the woman's eyes!  Why could he not get rid of the
+feeling they gave him?  She suddenly turned her head, not moving her chin
+from her hands, however, or altering her position, and said something to
+a man at her elbow--rather the wreck of a man, one who bore tokens of
+having been some time a gallant of the town, now only a disreputable
+citizen of a far from reputable French colony.
+
+Immediately a murmur was heard: "A spy, an English spy!"  From the mouths
+of absinthe-drinking liberes it passed to the mouths of rum-drinking
+recidivistes.  It did not escape Blake Shorland's ears, but he betrayed
+no sign.  He sipped his coffee and appeared absorbed in his paper,
+thinking carefully of the difficulties of his position.  He knew that
+to rise now and make for the door would be of no advantage, for a number
+of the excited crowd were between him and it.  To show fear might
+precipitate a catastrophe with this drunken mob.  He had nerve and
+coolness.
+
+Presently a dirty outcast passed him and rudely jostled his arm as he
+drank his coffee.  He begged the other's pardon conventionally in French,
+and went on reading.  A moment later the paper was snatched from his
+hand, and a red-faced unkempt scoundrel yelled in his face: "Spy of the
+devil!  English thief!"
+
+Then he rose quickly and stepped back to the wall, feeling for the spring
+in the sword-stick which he held closely pressed to his side.  This same
+sword-stick had been of use to him on the Fly River in New Guinea.
+
+"Down with the English spy!" rang through the room, joined to vile
+French oaths.  Meanwhile the woman had not changed her position, but
+closely watched the tumult which she herself had roused.  She did not
+stir when she saw a glass hurled at the unoffending Englishman's head.  A
+hand reached over and seized a bottle behind her.  The bottle was raised
+and still she did not move, though her fingers pressed her cheeks with a
+spasmodic quickness.  Three times Shorland had said, in well-controlled
+tones: "Frenchmen, I am no spy," but they gave him the lie with
+increasing uproar.  Had not Gabrielle Rouget said that he was an English
+spy?  As the bottle was poised in the air with a fiendish cry of "A
+baptism! a baptism!" and Shorland was debating on his chances of avoiding
+it, and on the wisdom of now drawing his weapon and cutting his way
+through the mob, there came from the door a call of "Hold!  hold!" and a
+young officer dashed in, his arm raised against the brutal missile in the
+hands of the ticket-of-leave man, whose Chauvinism was a matter of
+absinthe, natural evil, and Gabrielle Rouget.  "Wretches!  scum of
+France!" he cried: "what is this here?  And you, Gabrielle, do you
+sleep?  Do you permit murder?"
+
+The woman met the fire in his eyes without flinching, and some one
+answered for her.  "He is an English spy."
+
+"Take care, Gabrielle," the young officer went on, "take care--you go too
+far!"  Waving back the sullen crowd, now joined by the woman who had not
+yet spoken, he said: "Who are you, monsieur?  What is the trouble?"
+
+Shorland drew from his pocket his letters and credentials.  Gabrielle now
+stood at the young officer's elbow.  As the papers were handed over, a
+photograph dropped from among them and fell to the floor face upward.
+Shorland stooped to pick it up, but, as he did so, he heard a low
+exclamation from Gabrielle.  He looked up.  She pointed to the portrait,
+and said gaspingly: "My God--look! look!"  She leaned forward and touched
+the portrait in his hand.  "Look! look!" she said again.  And then she
+paused, and a moment after laughed.  But there was no mirth in her
+laughter--it was hollow and nervous.  Meanwhile the young officer had
+glanced at the papers, and now handed them back, with the words: "All is
+right, monsieur--eh, Gabrielle, well, what is the matter?"  But she drew
+back, keeping her eyes fixed on the Englishman, and did not answer.
+
+The young officer stretched out his hand.  "I am Alencon Barre,
+lieutenant, at your service.  Let us go, monsieur."
+
+But there was some unusual devilry working in that drunken crowd.  The
+sight of an officer was not sufficient to awe them into obedience.  Bad
+blood had been fired, and it was fed by some cause unknown to Alencon
+Barre, but to be understood fully hereafter.  The mass surged forward,
+with cries of "Down with the Englishman!"
+
+Alencon Barre drew his sword.  "Villains!" he cried, and pressed the
+point against the breast of the leader, who drew back.  Then Gabrielle's
+voice was heard: "No, no, my children," she said, "no more of that
+to-day--not to-day.  Let the man go."  Her face was white and drawn.
+
+Shorland had been turning over in his mind all the events of the last few
+moments, and he thought as he looked at her that just such women had made
+a hell of the Paris Commune.  But one thought dominated all others.  What
+was the meaning of her excitement when she saw the portrait--the portrait
+of Luke Freeman?
+
+He felt that he was standing on the verge of some tragic history.
+
+Barre's sword again made a clear circle round him, and he said: "Shame,
+Frenchmen!  This gentleman is no spy.  He is the friend of the Governor--
+he is my friend.  He is English?  Well, where is the English flag, there
+are the French--good French-protected.  Where is the French flag, there
+shall the English--good English--be safe."
+
+As they moved towards the door Gabrielle came forward, and, touching
+Shorland's arm, said in English: "You will come again, monsieur?  You
+shall be safe altogether.  You will come?"  Looking at her searchingly,
+he answered slowly: "Yes, I will come."
+
+As they left the turbulent crowd behind them and stepped into the street,
+Barr$ said: "You should have gone at once to the Hotel du Gouverneur and
+presented your letters, monsieur, or, at least, have avoided the Cafe
+Voisin.  Noumea is the Whitechapel and the Pentonville of France,
+remember."
+
+Shorland acknowledged his error, thanked his rescuer, enjoyed the
+situation, and was taken to Governor Rapont, by whom he was cordially
+received, and then turned over to the hospitality of the officers of the
+post.  It was conveyed to him later by letters of commendation from the
+Governor that he should be free to go anywhere in the islands and to see
+whatever was to be seen, from convict prison to Hotel Dieu.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+Sitting that night in the rooms of Alencon Barre, this question was put
+to Blake Shorland by his host: "What did Gabrielle say to you as we left,
+monsieur?  And why did she act so, when she saw the portrait?  I do not
+understand English well, and it was not quite clear."
+
+Shorland had a clear conviction that he ought to take Alencon Barre into
+his confidence.  If Gabrielle Rouget should have any special connection
+with Luke Freeman, there might be need of the active counsel of a friend
+like this young officer, whose face bespoke chivalry and gentle birth.
+Better that Alencon Barre should know all, than that he should know in
+part and some day unwittingly make trouble.  So he raised frank eyes to
+those of the other, and told the story of the man whose portrait had so
+affected Gabrielle Rouget.
+
+"Monsieur," said he, "I will tell you of this man first, and then it will
+be easier to answer your questions."
+
+He took the portrait from his pocket, passed it over, and continued.
+"I received this portrait in a letter from England the day that I left
+Sydney, as I was getting aboard the boat.  I placed it among those papers
+which you read.  It fell out on the floor of the cafe, and you saw the
+rest.  The man whose face is before you there, and who sent that to me,
+was my best friend in the days when I was at school and college.
+Afterwards, when a law-student, and, still later, when I began to
+practise my profession, we lived together in a rare old house at Fulham,
+with high garden walls and--but I forget, you do not know London perhaps.
+Yes?  Well, the house is neither here nor there; but I like to think of
+those days and of that home.  Luke Freeman--that was my friend's name--
+was an artist and a clever one.  He had made a reputation by his
+paintings of Egyptian and Algerian life.  He was brilliant and original,
+an indefatigable worker.  Suddenly, one winter, he became less
+industrious, fitful in his work, gloomy one day and elated the next,
+generally uncomfortable.  What was the matter?  Strange to say, although
+we were such friends, we chose different sets of society, and therefore
+seldom appeared at the same houses or knew the same people.  He liked
+most things continental; he found his social pleasures in that polite
+Bohemia which indulges in midnight suppers and permits ladies to smoke
+cigarettes after dinner, which dines at rich men's tables and is hob-a-
+nob with Russian Counts, Persian Ministers, and German Barons.  That was
+not to my taste, save as a kind of dramatic entertainment to be indulged
+in at intervals like a Drury Lane pantomime.  But though I had no proof
+that such was the case, I knew Luke Freeman's malady to be a woman.  I
+taxed him with it.  He did not deny it.  He was painting at the time, I
+remember, and he testily and unprofitably drew his brush across the face
+of a Copt woman he was working at, and bit off the end of a cigar.  I
+asked him if it was another man's wife; he promptly said no.  I asked him
+if there were any awkward complications any inconsiderate pressure from
+the girl's parents of brothers; and he promptly told me to be damned.
+I told him I thought he ought to know that an ambitious man might as well
+drown himself at once as get a fast woman in his path.  Then he showed a
+faculty for temper and profanity that stunned me.  But the up shot was
+that I found the case straight enough to all appearances.  The woman was
+a foreigner and not easy to win; was beautiful, had a fine voice, loved
+admiration, and possessed a scamp of a brother who, wanted her to marry
+a foreigner, so that, according to her father's will, a large portion of
+her fortune would come to him....  Were you going to speak?  No?  Very
+well.  Things got worse and worse.  Freeman neglected business and
+everything else, became a nuisance.  He never offered to take me to see
+the lady, and I did not suggest it, did not even know where she lived.
+What galled me most in the matter was that Freeman had been for years
+attentive to a cousin of mine, Clare Hazard, almost my sister, indeed,
+since she had been brought up in my father's house; and I knew that from
+a child she had adored him.  However, these things seldom work out
+according to the law of Nature, and so I chewed the cud of
+dissatisfaction and kept the thing from my cousin as long as I could.
+About the time matters seemed at a crisis I was taken ill, and was
+ordered south.  My mother and Freeman accompanied me as far as Paris.
+Here Freeman left me to return to England, and in the Cafe Voisin, at
+Paris--yes, mark that--we had our farewell.  I have never seen him since.
+While in Italy I was brought to death's door by my illness; and when I
+got up, Clare told me that Freeman was married and had gone to Egypt.
+She, poor girl, bore it well.  I was savage, but it was too late.  I was
+ordered to go to the South Seas, at least to take a long sea-voyage; and
+though I could not well afford it I started for Australia.  On my way out
+I stopped off at Port Said to try and find Freeman in Egypt, but failed.
+I heard of him at Cairo, and learned also that his wife's brother had
+joined them.  Two years passed, and then I got a letter from an old
+friend, saying that Freeman's wife had eloped with a Frenchman.  Another
+year, and then came a letter from Freeman himself, saying that his wife
+was dead; that he had identified her body in the Morgue at Paris--found
+drowned, and all that.  He believed that remorse had driven her to
+suicide.  But he had no trace of the brother, no trace of the villain
+whom he had scoured Europe and America over to find.  Again, another
+three years, and now he writes me that he is going to be married to Clare
+Hazard on the twenty sixth of this month.  With that information came
+this portrait.  I tell you all, M. Barre, because I feel that this woman
+Gabrielle has some connection with the past life of my friend Luke
+Freeman.  She recognised the face, and you saw the effect.  Now will you
+tell me what you know about her?"
+
+Shorland had been much more communicative than was his custom.  But
+he knew men.  This man had done him a service, and that made towards
+friendship on both sides.  He was an officer and a gentleman, and so he
+showed his hand.  Then he wanted information and perhaps much more,
+though what that would be he could not yet tell.
+
+M. Barre had smoked cigarettes freely during Shorland's narrative.  At
+the end he said with peculiar emphasis: "Your friend's wife was surely a
+Frenchwoman?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Was her name Laroche?"
+
+"Yes, that was it.  Do you think that Lucile Laroche and Gabrielle--!"
+
+"That Lucile Laroche and Gabrielle Rouget are one?  Yes.  But that Lucile
+Laroche was the wife of your friend?  Well, that is another matter.  But
+we shall see soon.  Listen.  A scoundrel, Henri Durien, was sent out here
+for killing an American at cards.  The jury called it murder, but
+recommended him to mercy, and he escaped the guillotine.  He had the
+sympathy of the women, the Press did not deal hardly with him, and the
+Public Prosecutor did not seem to push the case as he might have done.
+But that was no matter to us.  The woman, Gabrielle Rouget, followed
+him here, where he is a prisoner for life.  He is engaged in road-making
+with other prisoners.  She keeps the Cafe Voisin.  Now here is the point
+which concerns your story.  Once, when Gabrielle was permitted to
+see Henri, they quarrelled.  I was acting as governor of the prison at
+the time, saw the meeting and heard the quarrel.  No one else was near.
+Henri accused her of being intimate with a young officer of the post.  I
+am sure there was no truth in it, for Gabrielle does not have followers
+of that kind.  But Henri had got the idea from some source; perhaps by
+the convicts' 'Underground Railway,' which has connection even with the
+Hotel du Gouverneur.  Through it the prisoners know all that is going on,
+and more.  In response to Henri's accusation Gabrielle replied: 'As I
+live, Henri, it is a lie.'  He sardonically rejoined: 'But you do not
+live.  You are dead, dead I tell you.  You were found drowned and carried
+to the Morgue and properly identified--not by me, curse you, Lucile
+Laroche.  And then you were properly buried, and not by me either, nor at
+my cost, curse you again.  You are dead, I tell you!'  She looked at him
+as she looked at you the other day, dazed and spectre-like, and said:
+'Henri, I gave up my life once to a husband to please my brother.
+
+"He was a villain, my brother.  I gave it up a second time to please you,
+and because I loved you.  I left behind me name, fortune, Paris, France,
+everything, to follow you here.  I was willing to live here, while you
+lived, or till you should be free.  And you curse me--you dare to curse
+me!  Now I will give you some cause to curse.  You are a devil--I am a
+sinner.  Henceforth I shall be devil and sinner too.'  With that she left
+him.  Since then she has been both devil and sinner, but not in the way
+he meant; simply a danger to the safety of this dangerous community;
+a Louise Michel--we had her here too!--without Louise Michel's high
+motives.  Gabrielle Rouget may cause a revolt of the convicts some day,
+to secure the escape of Henri Durien, or to give them all a chance.  The
+Governor does not believe it, but I do.  You noticed what I said about
+the Morgue, and that?"
+
+Shorland paced up and down the room for a time, and then said: "Great
+heaven, suppose that by some hideous chance this woman, Gabrielle Rouget,
+or Lucile Laroche, should prove to be Freeman's wife!  The evidence is so
+overwhelming.  There evidently was some trick, some strange mistake,
+about the Morgue and the burial.  This is the fourteenth of January;
+Freeman is to be married on the twenty-sixth!  Monsieur, if this woman
+should be his wife, there never was brewed an uglier scrape.  There is
+Freeman--that's pitiful; there is Clare Hazard--that's pitiful and
+horrible.  For nothing can be done; no cables from here, the Belle
+Sauvage gone, no vessels or sails for two weeks.  Ah well, there's only
+one thing to do--find out the truth from Gabrielle if I can, and trust in
+Providence."
+
+"Well spoken," said M. Barre.  "Have some more champagne.  I make the
+most of the pleasure of your company, and so I break another bottle.
+Besides, it may be the last I shall get for a time.  There is trouble
+brewing at Bompari--a native insurrection--and we may have to move at any
+moment.  However this Gabrielle affair turns out, you have your business
+to do.  You want to see the country, to study our life-well, come with
+us.  We will house you, feed you as we feed, and you shall have your
+tobacco at army prices."
+
+Much as Blake Shorland was moved by the events of the last few hours he
+was enough the soldier and the man of the world to face possible troubles
+without the loss of appetite, sleep, or nerve.  He had cultivated a habit
+of deliberation which saved his digestion and preserved his mental poise;
+and he had a faculty for doing the right thing at the right time.  From
+his stand-point, his late adventure in the Cafe Voisin was the right
+thing, serious as the results might have been or might yet be.  He now
+promptly met the French officer's exuberance of spirits with a hearty
+gaiety, and drank his wine with genial compliment and happy anecdote.
+It was late when they parted; the Frenchman excited, beaming, joyous,
+the Englishman responsive, but cool in mind still.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+After breakfast next morning Shorland expressed to M. Barre his intention
+of going to see Gabrielle Rouget.  He was told that he must not go alone;
+a guard would be too conspicuous and might invite trouble; he himself
+would bear him company.
+
+The hot January day was reflected from the red streets, white houses,
+and waxen leaves of the tropical foliage with enervating force.  An
+occasional ex-convict sullenly lounged by, touching his cap as he was
+required by law; a native here and there leaned idly against a house-wall
+or a magnolia tree; ill-looking men and women loitered in the shade.  A
+Government officer went languidly by in full uniform--even the Governor
+wore uniform at all times to encourage respect--and the cafes were
+filling.  Every hour was "absinthe-hour" in Noumea, which had improved on
+Paris in this particular.  A knot of men stood at the door of the Cafe
+Voisin gesticulating nervously.  One was pointing to a notice posted on
+the bulletin-board of the cafe announcing that all citizens must hold
+themselves in readiness to bear arms in case the rumoured insurrection
+among the natives proved serious.  It was an evil-looking company who
+thus discussed Governor Rapont's commands.  As the two passed in,
+Shorland noticed that one of the group made a menacing action towards
+Alencon Barre.
+
+Gabrielle was talking to an ex-convict as they entered.  Her face looked
+worn; there was a hectic spot on each cheek and dark circles round the
+eyes.  There was something animal-like about the poise of the head and
+neck, something intense and daring about the woman altogether.  Her
+companion muttered between his teeth: "The cursed English spy!"
+
+But she turned on him sharply: "Go away, Gaspard, I have business.  So
+have you--go." The ex-convict slowly left the cafe still muttering.
+
+"Well, Gabrielle, how are your children this morning?  They look gloomy
+enough for the guillotine, eh?" said M. Barre.
+
+"They are much trouble, sometimes--my children."
+
+"Last night, for instance."
+
+"Last night.  But monsieur was unwise.  We do not love the English here.
+They do not find it comfortable on English soil, in Australia--my
+children!  Not so comfortable as Louis Philippe and Louis Napoleon.
+Criminal kings with gold are welcome; criminal subjects without gold--
+ah, that is another matter, monsieur.  It is just the same.  They may be
+gentlemen--many are; if they escape to Australia or go as liberes, they
+are hunted down.  That is English, and they hate the English--
+my children."
+
+Gabrielle's voice was directed to M. Barre, but her eyes were on
+Shorland.
+
+"Well, Gabrielle, all English are not inhospitable.  My friend here,
+we must be hospitable to him.  The coals of fire, you know, Gabrielle.
+We owe him some thing for yesterday.  He wishes to speak to you.  Be
+careful, Gabrielle.  No communist justice, Citizen Gabrielle."  M. Barre
+smiled gaily.
+
+Gabrielle smiled in reply, but it was not a pleasant smile, and she said:
+"Treachery, M. Barre--treachery in Noumea?  There is no such thing.  It
+is all fair in love and war.  No quarter, no mercy, no hope.  All is fair
+where all is foul, M. Barre."
+
+M. Barre shrugged his shoulders pleasantly and replied: "If I had my way
+your freedom should be promptly curtailed, Gabrielle.  You are an active
+citizen, but you are dangerous, truly."
+
+"I like you better when you do not have your way.  Yet my children do
+not hate you, M. Barre.  You speak your thought, and they know what to
+expect.  Your family have little more freedom in France than my children
+have here."
+
+M. Barre looked at her keenly for an instant, then, lighting a cigarette,
+he said: "So, Gabrielle, so!  That is enough.  You wish to speak to
+M. Shorland--well!"  He waved his hand to her and walked away from them.
+Gabrielle paused a moment, looking sharply at Blake Shorland, then she
+said: "Monsieur will come with me?"
+
+She led the way into another room, the boudoir, sitting-room, breakfast-
+room, library, all in one.  She parted the curtains at the window,
+letting the light fall upon the face of her companion, while hers
+remained in the shadow.  He knew the trick, and moved out of the belt of
+light.  He felt that he was dealing with a woman of singular astuteness,
+with one whose wickedness was unconventional and intrepid.  To his mind
+there came on the instant the memory of a Rocky Mountain lioness that he
+had seen caged years before; lithe, watchful, nervously powerful,
+superior to its surroundings, yet mastered by those surroundings--the
+trick of a lock, not a trick of strength.  He thought he saw in Gabrielle
+a woman who for a personal motive was trying to learn the trick of the
+lock in Noumea, France's farthest prison.  For a moment they looked at
+each other steadily, then she said: "That portrait--let me see it."
+
+The hand that she held out was unsteady, and it looked strangely white
+and cold.  He drew the photograph from his pocket and handed it to her.
+A flush passed across her face as she looked at it, and was followed by
+a marked paleness.  She gazed at the portrait for a moment, then her lips
+parted and a great sigh broke from her.  She was about to hand it back to
+him, but an inspiration seemed to seize her, and she threw it on the
+floor and put her heel upon it.  "That is the way I treated him," she
+said, and she ground her heel into the face of the portrait.  Then she
+took her foot away.  "See, see," she cried, "how his face is scarred and
+torn!  I did that.  Do you know what it is to torture one who loves you?
+No, you do not.  You begin with shame and regret.  But the sight of your
+lover's agonies, his indignation, his anger, madden you and you get the
+lust of cruelty.  You become insane.  You make new wounds.  You tear open
+old ones.  You cut, you thrust, you bruise, you put acid in the sores--
+the sharpest nitric acid; and then you heal with a kiss of remorse, and
+that is acid too--carbolic acid, and it smells of death.  They put it in
+the room where dead people are.  Have you ever been to the Morgue in
+Paris?  They use it there."
+
+She took up the portrait.  "Look," she said, "how his face is torn!
+Tell me of him."
+
+"First, who are you?"
+
+She steadied herself.  "Who are you?" she asked.
+
+"I am his friend, Blake Shorland."
+
+"Yes, I remember your name."  She threw her hands up with a laugh, a
+bitter hopeless laugh.  Her eyes half closed, so that only light came
+from them, no colour.  The head was thrown back with a defiant
+recklessness, and then she said: "I was Lucile Laroche, his wife--Luke
+Freeman's wife."
+
+"But his wife died.  He identified her in the Morgue."
+
+"I do not know why I speak to you so, but I feel that the time has come
+to tell all to you.  That was not his wife in the Morgue.  It was his
+wife's sister, my sister whom my brother drowned for her money--he made
+her life such a misery!  And he did not try to save her when he knew she
+meant to drown herself.  She was not bad; she was a thousand times better
+than I am, a million times better than he was.  He was a devil.  But he
+is dead now too.  .  .  .  She was taken to the Morgue.  She looked like
+me altogether; she wore a ring of mine, and she had a mark on her
+shoulder the same as one on mine; her initials were the same.  Luke had
+never seen her.  He believed that I lay dead there, and he buried her for
+me.  I thought at the time that it would be best I should be dead to him
+and to the world.  And so I did not speak.  It was all the same to my
+brother.  He got what was left of my fortune, and I got what was left of
+hers.  For I was dead, you see--dead, dead, dead!"
+
+She paused again.  Neither spoke for a moment.  Shorland was thinking
+what all this meant to Clare Hazard and Luke Freeman.
+
+"Where is he?  What is he doing?" she said at length.  "Tell me.  I was
+--I am--his wife."
+
+"Yes, you were--you are--his wife.  But better if you had been that woman
+in the Morgue," he said without pity.  What were this creature's feelings
+to him?  There was his friend and the true-souled Clare.
+
+"I know, I know," she replied.  "Go on!"
+
+"He is well.  The man that was born when his wife lay before him in the
+Morgue has found another woman, a good woman who loves him and--"
+
+"And is married to her?" interrupted Gabrielle, her face taking on again
+a shining whiteness.  But, as though suddenly remembering something,
+she laughed that strange laugh which might have come from a soul
+irretrievably lost.  "And is married to her?"
+
+Blake Shorland thought of the lust of cruelty, of the wounds, and the
+acids of torture.  "Not yet," he said; "but the marriage is set for the
+twenty-six of this month."
+
+"How I could spoil all that!"
+
+"Yes, you could spoil all that.  But you have spoiled enough already.
+Don't you think that if Luke Freeman does marry, you had better be dead
+as you have been this last five years?  To have spoiled one life ought to
+be enough to satisfy even a woman like you."
+
+Her eyes looked through Blake Shorland's eyes and beyond them to
+something else; and then they closed.  When they opened again, she said:
+"It is strange that I never thought of his marrying again.  And now I
+want to kill her--just for the moment.  That is the selfish devil in me.
+Well, what is to be done, monsieur?  There is the Morgue left.  But then
+there is no Morgue here.  Ah, well, we can make one, perhaps--we can make
+a Morgue, monsieur."
+
+"Can't you see that he ought to be left the rest of his life in peace?"
+
+"Yes, I can see that."
+
+"Well, then!"
+
+"Well--and then, monsieur?  Ah, you did not wish him to marry me.  He
+told me so.  'A fickle foreigner,' you said.  And you were right, but it
+was not pleasant to me.  I hated you then, though I had never spoken to
+you nor seen you; not because I wanted him, but because you interfered.
+He said once to me that you had told the truth in that.  But--and then,
+monsieur?"
+
+"Then continue to efface yourself.  Continue to be the woman in the
+Morgue."
+
+"But others know."
+
+"Yes, Henri Durien knows and M. Barre suspects."
+
+"So, you see."
+
+"But Henri Durien is a prisoner for life; he cannot hear of the marriage
+unless you tell him.  M. Barre is a gentleman: he is my friend; his
+memory will be dead like you."
+
+"For M. Barre, well!  But the other--Henri.  How do you know that he is
+here for life?  Men get pardoned, men get free, men--get free, I tell
+you."
+
+Shorland noticed the interrupted word.  He remembered it afterwards all
+too distinctly enough.
+
+"The twenty-sixth, the twenty-sixth," she said.
+
+Then a pause, and afterwards with a sudden sharpness: "Come to me on the
+twenty-fifth, and I will give you my reply, M. Shorland."
+
+He still held the portrait in his hand.  She stepped forward.  "Let me
+see it again," she said.
+
+He handed it to her: "You have spoiled a good face, Gabrielle."
+
+"But the eyes are not hurt," she replied; "see how they look at one."
+She handed it back.
+
+"Yes, kindly."
+
+"And sadly.  As though he still remembered Lucile.  Lucile!  I have not
+been called that name for a long time.  It is on my grave-stone, you
+know.  Ah, perhaps you do not know.  You never saw my grave.  I have.
+And on the tombstone is written this: By Luke to Lucile.  And then
+beneath, where the grass almost hides it, the line: I have followed my
+Star to the last.  You do not know what that line means; I will tell you.
+Once, when we were first married, he wrote me some verses, and he called
+them, 'My Star, Lucile.'  Here is a verse--ah, why do you not smile, when
+I say I will tell you what he wrote?  Chut!  Women such as I have
+memories sometimes.  One can admire the Heaven even if one lives in--ah,
+you know!  Listen."  And with a voice that seemed far away and not part
+of herself she repeated these lines:
+
+         "In my sky of delight there's a beautiful Star;
+               'Tis the sun and the moon of my days;
+          And the doors of its glory are ever ajar,
+          And I live in the glow of its rays.
+               'Tis my winter of joy and my summer of rest,
+               'Tis my future, my present, my past;
+          And though storms fill the East and the clouds haunt the West,
+               I shall follow my Star to the last."
+
+"There, that was to Lucile.  What would he write to Gabrielle--to Henri's
+Gabrielle?  How droll--how droll!"  Again she laughed that laugh of
+eternal recklessness.
+
+It filled Shorland this time with a sense of fear.  He lost sight of
+everything--this strange and interesting woman, and the peculiar nature
+of the events in which he was sharing, and saw only Clare Hazard's ruined
+life, Luke Freeman's despair, and the fatal 26th of January, so near at
+hand.  He could see no way out of the labyrinth of disgrace.  It unnerved
+him more than anything that had ever happened to him, and he turned
+bewildered towards the door.  He saw that while Gabrielle lived, a dead
+misfortune would be ever crouching at the threshold of Freeman's home,
+that whether the woman agreed to be silent or not, the hurt to Clare
+would remain the same.  With an angry bitterness in his voice that he
+did not try to hide he said: "There is nothing more to be done now,
+Gabrielle, that I can see.  But it is a crime--it is a pity!"
+
+"A pity that he did not tell the truth on the gravestone--that he did not
+follow his star to the last, monsieur?  How droll!  And you should see
+how green the grass was on my grave!  Yes, it is a pity."
+
+But Shorland, heavy at heart, looked at her and said nothing more.  He
+wondered why it was that he did not loathe her.  Somehow, even in her
+shame, she compelled a kind of admiration and awe.  She was the wreck of
+splendid possibilities.  A poisonous vitality possessed her, but through
+it glowed a daring and a candour that belonged to her before she became
+wicked, and that now half redeemed her in the eyes of this man, who knew
+the worst of her.  Even in her sin she was loyal to the scoundrel for
+whom she had sacrificed two lives, her own and another's.  Her brow might
+flush with shame of the mad deed that turned her life awry, and of the
+degradation of her present surroundings; but her eyes looked straight
+into those of Shorland without wavering, with the pride of strength if
+not of goodness.
+
+"Yes, there is one thing more," she said.  "Give me that portrait to
+keep--until the 25th.  Then you may take it--from the woman in the
+Morgue."
+
+Shorland thought for a moment.  She had spoken just now without sneering,
+without bravado, without hardness.  He felt that behind this woman's
+outward cruelty and varying moods there was something working that
+perhaps might be trusted, something in Luke's interest.  He was certain
+that this portrait had moved her deeply.  Had she come to that period of
+reaction in evil when there is an agonised desire to turn back towards
+the good?  He gave the portrait to her.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+Sitting in Alencon Barre's room an hour later, Shorland told him in
+substance the result of his conference with Gabrielle, and begged his
+consideration for Luke if the worst should happen.  Alencon Barre gave
+his word as a man of honour that the matter should be sacred to him.
+As they sat there, a messenger came from the commandant to say that the
+detachment was to start that afternoon for Bompari.  Then a note was
+handed to Shorland from Governor Rapont offering him a horse and a native
+servant if he chose to go with the troops.  This was what Shorland had
+come for--news and adventure.  He did not hesitate, though the shadow of
+the twenty-fifth was hanging over him.  He felt his helplessness in the
+matter, but determined to try to be back in Noumea on that date.  Not
+that he expected anything definite, but because he had a feeling that
+where Gabrielle was on that day he ought to be.
+
+For two days they travelled, the friendship between them growing hourly
+closer.  It was the swift amalgamation of two kindred natures in the
+flame of a perfect sincerity, for even with the dramatic element so
+strongly developed in him, the Englishman was downright and true.
+His friendship was as tenacious as his head was cool.
+
+On the evening of the third day Shorland noticed that the strap of his
+spur was frayed.  He told his native servant to attend to it.  Next
+morning as they were starting he saw that the strap had not been mended
+or replaced.  His language on the occasion was pointed and confident.
+The fact is, he was angry with himself for trusting anything to a
+servant.  He was not used to such a luxury, and he made up his mind to
+live for the rest of the campaign without a servant, as he had done all
+his life long.
+
+The two friends rode side by side for miles through the jungle of fern
+and palm, and then began to enter a more open but scrubby country.  The
+scouts could be seen half a mile ahead.  Not a sign of natives had been
+discovered on the march.  More than once Barre had expressed his anxiety
+at this.  He knew it pointed to concentrated trouble ahead, and, just as
+they neared the edge of the free country, he rose in his saddle and
+looked around carefully.  Shorland imitated his action, and, as he
+resumed his seat, he felt his spur-strap break.  He leaned back, and drew
+up the foot to take off the spur.  As he did so, he felt a sudden twitch
+at his side, and Barre swayed in his saddle with a spear in the groin.
+Shorland caught him and prevented him falling to the ground.  A wild cry
+rose from the jungle behind and from the clearing ahead, and in a moment
+the infuriated French soldiers were in the thick of a hand-to-hand fray
+under a rain of spears and clubs.  The spear that had struck Barre would
+have struck Shorland had he not bent backward when he did.  As it was the
+weapon had torn a piece of cloth from his coat.
+
+A moment, and the wounded man was lifted to the ground.  The surgeon
+shook his head in sad negation.  Death already blanched the young
+officer's face.  Shorland looked into the misty eyes with a sadness only
+known to those who can gauge the regard of men who suffer for each other.
+Four days ago this gallant young officer had taken risk for him, had
+saved him from injury, perhaps death; to-day the spear meant for him
+had stricken down this same young officer, never to rise again.  The
+vicarious sacrifice seemed none the less noble to the Englishman because
+it was involuntary and an accident.  The only point clear in his mind was
+that had he not leant back, Barre would be the whole man and he the
+wounded one.
+
+"How goes it, my friend?" said Shorland, bending over him.
+
+Alencon Barre looked up, agony twitching his nostrils and a dry white
+line on his lips.  "Ah, mon camarade," he answered huskily, "it is in
+action--that is much; it is for France, that is more to me--everything.
+They would not let me serve France in Paris, but I die for her in New
+Caledonia.  I have lived six-and-twenty years.  I have loved the world.
+Many men have been kind, and once there was a woman--and I shall see her
+soon, quite soon.  It is strange.  The eyes will become blind, and then
+they will open, and--ah!"  His fingers closed convulsively on those of
+Blake Shorland.  When the ghastly tremor, the deadly corrosions of the
+poisoned spear passed he said: "So--so!  It is the end.  C'est bien,
+c'est bien!"
+
+All round them the fight raged, and French soldiers were repeating
+English bravery in the Soudan.
+
+"It is not against a great enemy, but it is good," said the wounded man
+as he heard the conquering cries of a handful of soldiers punishing ten
+times their numbers.  "You remember Prince Eugene and the assegais?"
+
+"I remember."
+
+"Our Houses were enemies, but we were friends, he and I.  And so, and so,
+you see, it is the same for both."
+
+Again the teeth of the devouring poison fastened on him, and, when it
+left him, a grey pallor had settled upon the face.
+
+Blake Shorland said to him gently: "How do you feel about it all?"
+
+As if in gentle protest the head moved slightly.  "All's well, all's
+well," the low voice said.
+
+A pause, in which the cries of the wounded came through the smoke, and
+then the dying man, feeling the approach of another convulsion, said:
+"A cigarette, mon ami."
+
+Blake Shorland put a cigarette between his lips and lighted it.
+
+"And now a little wine," the fallen soldier added.  The surgeon, who had
+come again for a moment, nodded and said: "It may help."
+
+Barre's native servant brought a bottle of champagne intended to be drunk
+after the expected victory, but not in this fashion!
+
+Shorland understood.  This brave young soldier of a dispossessed family
+wished to show no fear of pain, no lack of outward and physical courage
+in the approaching and final shock.  He must do something that was
+conventional, natural, habitual, that would take his mind from the thing
+itself.  At heart he was right.  The rest was a question of living like a
+strong-nerved soldier to the last.  The tobacco-smoke curled feebly from
+his lips, and was swallowed up in the clouds of powder-smoke that circled
+round them.  With his head on his native servant's knee he watched
+Shorland uncork the bottle and pour the wine into the surgeon's medicine-
+glass.  It was put in his fingers; he sipped it once and then drank it
+all.  "Again," he said.
+
+Again it was filled.  The cigarette was smoked nearly to the end.
+Shorland must unburden his mind of one thought, and he said: "You took
+what was meant for me, my friend."
+
+"Ah, no, no!  It was the fortune, we will say the good fortune.  C'est
+bien!"  Then, "The wine, the wine," he said, and his fingers again
+clasped those of Shorland tremblingly.  He took the glass in his right
+hand and lifted it.  "God guard all at home, God keep France!" he said.
+He was about to place the glass to his lips, when a tremor seized him,
+and the glass fell from his hand.  He fell back, his breath quick and
+vanishing, his eyes closing, and a faint smile upon his lips.  "It is
+always the same with France," he said; "always the same."  And he was
+gone.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+The French had bought their victory dear with the death of Alencon Barre,
+their favourite officer.  When they turned their backs upon a quelled
+insurrection, there was a gap that not even French buoyancy could fill.
+On the morning of the twenty-fifth they neared Noumea.  Shorland thought
+of all that day meant to Luke and Clare.  He was helpless to alter the
+course of events, to stay a terrible possibility.
+
+"You can never trust a woman of Gabrielle's stamp," he said to himself,
+as they rode along through valleys of ferns, grenadillas, and limes.
+"They have no baseline of duty; they either rend themselves or rend
+others, but rend they must, hearts and not garments.  Henri Durien knows,
+and she knows, and Alencon Barre knew, poor boy!  But what Barre knew is
+buried with him back there under the palms.  Luke and Clare are to be
+married to-morrow-God help them!  And I can see them in their home, he
+standing by the fireplace in his old way--it's winter there--and looking
+down at Clare; and on the other side of the fireplace sits the sister of
+the Woman in the Morgue, waiting for the happiest moment in the lives of
+these two before her.  And when it comes, as she did with the portrait,
+as she did with him before, she will set her foot upon his face and then
+on Clare's; only neither Luke nor Clare will live again after that
+crucifixion."  Then aloud: "Hello! what's that?--a messenger riding hard
+to meet us!  Smoke in the direction of Noumea and sound of firing!
+What's that, doctor?  Convicts revolted, made a break at the prison
+and on the way to the quarries at the same moment!  Of course--seized
+the time when the post was weakest, helped by ticket-of-leave-men and
+led by Henri Durien, Gaspard, and Gabrielle Rouget.  Gabrielle Rouget,
+eh!  And this is the twenty-fifth!  Yes, I will take Barre's horse,
+captain, thank you; it is fresher than mine.  Away we go!  Egad, they're
+at it, doctor!  Hear the rifles!"  Answering to the leader's cry of
+"Forward, forward!" the detachment dashed into the streets of this
+little Paris, which, after the fashion of its far-away mother, was
+dipping its hands in Revolution.  Outcast and criminal France were
+arrayed against military France once more.  A handful of guards in the
+prison at Ile Nou were bravely holding in check a ruthless mob of
+convicts; and a crowd of convicts in the street keeping back a determined
+military force.  Part of the newly-arrived reinforcements proceeded to
+Ile Nou, part moved towards the barricade.  Shorland went to the
+barricade.
+
+The convicts had the Cafe Voisin in their rear.  As the reinforcements
+joined the besieging party a cheer arose, and a sally was made upon the
+barricade.  It was a hail of fire meeting a slighter rain of fire--a cry
+of coming victory cutting through a sullen roar of despair.  The square
+in which the convicts were massed was a trench of blood and bodies; but
+they fought on.  There was but one hope--to break out, to meet the
+soldiers hand to hand and fight for passage to the friendly jungle and
+to the sea, where they might trust to that Providence who appears to help
+even the wicked sometimes.  As Shorland looked upon the scene he thought
+of Alencon Barre's words: "It is always the same with France, always the
+same."
+
+The fight grew fiercer, the soldiers pressed nearer.  And now one clear
+voice was heard above the din, "Forward, forward, my children!" and some
+one sprang upon the outer barricade.  It was the plotter of the revolt,
+the leader, the manager of the "Underground Railway," the beloved of the
+convicts--Gabrielle Rouget.
+
+The sunlight glorified her flying hair and vivid dress-vivid with the
+blood of the fallen.  Her arms, her shoulders, her feet were bare; all
+that she could spare from her body had gone to bind the wounds of her
+desperate comrades.  In her hands she held a carbine.  As she stood for
+an instant unmoving, the firing, as if by magic, ceased.  She raised a
+hand.  "We will have the guillotine in Paris," she said; "but not the
+hell of exile here."
+
+Then Henri Durien, the convict, sprang up beside her; the man for whom
+she had made a life's sacrifice--for whom she had come to this!  His head
+was bandaged and clotted with blood; his eyes shone with the fierceness
+of an animal at bay.  Close after him crowded the handful of his frenzied
+compatriots in crime.
+
+Then a rifle-crack was heard, and Henri Durieu fell at the feet of
+Gabrielle.  The wave on the barricade quivered, and then Gabrielle's
+voice was heard crying, "Avenge him!  Free yourselves, my children!
+Death is better than prison!"
+
+The wave fell in red turmoil on the breakers.  And still Gabrielle stood
+alone above the body of Henri Durien; but the carbine was fallen from her
+hands.  She stood as one awaiting death, her eyes upon the unmoving form
+at her feet.  The soldiers watched her, but no one fired.  Her face was
+white; but in the eyes there was a wild triumph.  She wanted death now;
+but these French soldiers had not the heart to kill her.
+
+When she saw that, she leaned and thrust a hand into the bleeding bosom
+of Henri Durien, and holding it aloft cried: "For this blood men must
+die."  Stooping again she seized the carbine and levelled it at the
+officer in command.  Before she could pull the trigger some one fired,
+and she fell across the body of her lover.  A moment afterwards Shorland
+stood beside her.  She was shot through the lungs.
+
+He stooped over her.  "Gabrielle, Gabrielle!" he said.  "Yes, yes,
+I know--I saw you.  This is the twenty-fifth.  He will be married
+to-morrow-Luke.  I owed it to him to die; I owed it to Henri to die this
+way."  She drew the scarred portrait of Luke Freeman from her bosom and
+gave it over.
+
+"His eyes made me," she said.  "They haunted me.
+
+"Well, it is all done.  I am sorry, ah!  Never tell him of this.  I go
+away--away--with Henri."
+
+She closed her eyes and was still for a moment; so still that he thought
+her dead.  But she looked up at him again and said with her last breath:
+"I am--the Woman in the Morgue--always--now!"
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+All is fair where all is foul
+He borrowed no trouble
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FOR THE ENTIRE "CUMNER'S SON AND OTHER FOLK":
+
+All is fair where all is foul
+Answered, with the indifference of despair
+Ate some coffee-beans and drank some cold water
+He borrowed no trouble
+His courtesy was not on the same expansive level as his vanity
+It isn't what they do, it's what they don't do
+Mystery is dear to a woman's heart
+Never looked to get an immense amount of happiness out of life
+No, I'm not good--I'm only beautiful
+Preserved a marked unconsciousness
+Should not make our own personal experience a law unto the world
+Surely she might weep a little for herself
+There is nothing so tragic as the formal
+Time when she should and when she should not be wooed
+Undisciplined generosity
+Where the light is darkness
+Women don't go by evidence, but by their feelings
+You have lost your illusions
+You've got to be ready, that's all
+
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CUMNER & SOUTH SEA FOLK, ENTIRE ***
+
+********** This file should be named gp28w10.txt or gp28w10.zip **********
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