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Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent être filmés '^à des taux de réduction différents.- , Lorsque le document est trop grand pour être reproduit en un seul cliché, il est filmé à partir de l'angle supérieur gauche, de gauche à droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nécessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la méthode. % . 1 2 3 A ■*. , ■ ■ s- » 1 . ■ 1 2 3 r- 1 4 5 6 • A^ '(< ■ iJk National Library Bibliothèque nationale ■ T of Canada du Canada JE!. ^00 ,oO ■Ia^^-I /jL^.r7..-^^ ^ ^e.'^ (^<, .vv. '_i .^ Mi V A . '^Ai- ^ Yjl^ ^J ',-• .- 1 ^<^ L^^Ki^yv^ G* f V -':> aLjUiM^ .J^ JU j Ls ^^,- ^ ^- l-^ 1^- \ I THE GREEN FLAG . AND OTHER S-iTORIES i / / 3Bs tbe saiite Hutbor. A Memory of the Empire. MICAH CLARKE. THE WHITE COM ROONEY 8T0NE. UNCLE BERNAÇ THE TRAGEDY OF THE KOROSKO. THE REFUGE^. THE GREAT 0HADOW. ADVENTURE^ OF SHERLOCK HOt-MES. MEM0IR8 Ç(F SHERLOCK HOLMES. THE 8IQN OF FOUR. A 8TUDY IN SCARLET. THE FO^M OF GIRDLE8T0NE. THE PARASITE. EXPLOITS OF BRIGADIER GERARD. CAPTÀIN OF THE "POLE8TAR." ROUND THE RED LAMP. THE STARK MUNRO LETTER8. THE DOINQ3 OF RAFFLES HAW. 80NQ8 OF ACTION. K DUET. \ : .//,//- 1 / À V \ »« ( * V / s ^ ■i / - y * *■- ^ >' if 1*- i ^ h f -*•. .J^-^ jà^ ^^ » ♦^' 'S ■ ,-,„ l ÏHÊ OfeEEN FlTÀO. {Page 21. THE GREEN FLAG J AND OTHER STORIES, fAN DOYLE AUTHOR OP IlCAH CLARlhr" "THK WHITKlCOMPANY, " " ROUNEY STONE," ' A DUKT WTIH AN OÇCASIONM. CHodUS." " UNCLK BERNAC," ETC. , / WITH A FRONTISPIECE ^ • -1 r l TORONTO 1/' / GEORGE N. MORANG & COMPANY, LIMITEÙ 1900 ' "''''y i S i* t* » r ^ H-, :'-.*; _ /■ J*- !^#^ -ïcè;. ;. ■ PREFACE, It is difficult to make a volume of short stories homogeneous, but thèse havo this in common, that they concern themselves with war and sport-a fact ' which may commend thenv to the temper of the times. Such as they are, I hâve chosen them as the fittest survivors ont of the taies which I hâve ' Avritten during the last six years. A. CONAN DOYLE. ^W-"" UNDEnSlIAW, IllNDHEAU, Fthruarij I8lh, 1900. i f CONTENTS. TiiE Obeen Flao ... Captaist Shaiîkey— I. Ho^ THE GovERKou op St. Iutt's c.v.^rE Home II. The De.auxgs.of Capt.vix Sh.vrkev witii Stepiiex Cr.addock Iir. How CoPLEv B..XKS 8LEW Captaix Sharkev "" The Crime OF THE Biîig.vdieu Tue Croxley Master The "Slappixo Sal" Tue Lord of Château Xom The Striped Chest A Shadow Before , The King of the Foxes ... The Thrf'e Correspondent.s The New Cytacomb The Déiu-t of Bimbashi Jovce A Foreign Office Romance r.vcK 1 25 ^ 45 (55 83 104 171 185 204 225 245 2G5 297 319 333 ^■; ■f tJ 'W! '!■»■«. ! ]'*"' TH': ■I M =:^ THE GREEN FLAG ^ND OTHER STORIES. THE GREEN FLAG. When Jack Conolly, of thè Irish Shot-gun Brigade, the Eory of tlie Hills Inner Cii-cle, and the extrême' left wiDg of the Land League, was incoiitineu|;ly shot by Sergeant Murdoch of the constabulary, in a little moonlight frolic near Kanturk, his twin brother Dennis joined the British Army. The counti-yside had become too hot for him ; and, as the seventy-fi ve shillings were wanting which might hâve carried him to America, he took the only way handy of getting himself out of'the way. Seldom has Her Majesty had a less promising recruit, for his hot Celtic blood seethed with hatred against Britain and ail things British. The Sergeant, however, smiling complacently over his six fe*et of J^Z°^,^°^ J^^ J'Q^ ^^ y^^^^^ chest, whi>ked him off ^ with a dozen other of the boys to the dépôt at Fermoy, whence in a few weeks they were sent on, with the B THE GREEN PLAG. spade-TTork kinks taken out of their backs, to the first battalion of the Eoyal Mallows, at the top of the roster. for foreign service. The Royal Mallows, at about that date, were as strànge a lot of men as ever were paid by a great empiro to fight its battles. It was the darkest hour of the land stniggle, when the one side came out with crowbar and battering-ram by dayj ^nd the other with mask and with shot-gun by night. Men driven frora their homes and potate-patches found their way even into ^he service of the Government, to which'it seemed to them- that they owed their troubles, and now and then they did wild things before they came. There were recruits in the Irish régiments who would forget to answer to their own names, so short had been their acquaintance with them. Of thèse the Royal Mallows had their full shpe ; and, while they still retained their famé as being one of the smartest corps in the Army, no one knew better than their officers that they were dry-rotted with treason and with bitter hatred of the flag under which they served. And the centre of ail the disaflfection was C Company, in which Dennis ConoUy found himself enroUed. They were Celts, Cathbïics, and men of the tenant class to a man; and their whole expérience of the British Government had been an inexorable landlord, and a constabulary who seemed to them to be always on the^ side of the rent-collector. Dennis was not the only I -S I THE GREEN FLAG. 3 moonlighter in the ranks, nor was lie alonè in having an intolérable family blood-feud to harden his heart Savagery had begotten sàvagery in that veiled civil war. A landlord Tvith an iron mortgage weighing down upon hira had small bowels for his tenantiy. He did but take what the law allovved ; and yet, Vith men like Jim Holan, or Patrick McQuire, or Peter Plynn who had seen the roofs tom from their^ti^es and their folk huddled among their pitiable fumiture upon the roadside, it was ,ill to argue about abstmct Uw What matter that in that long and bitter struggle there was many another outrage on the part of the tenant, and manyanothergrievance on the side of the landowner i A stricken man can only feel his own wound, and the rank and file of the C Company of tT)é Eoyal Mallows were sore and savage to the soûl. There were low whisper- ings m barrack-rooms and canteens, stealthy meetings m public-house, parlours, bandying of passwords from mouth to mouth, and many other signs which made ' their officers right glad when the order came which sent them to foreign, and better stiU to active, service. v;-For Irish régiments hâve beforenow been disaffected " - and hâve at a distance looked upon the foe a^ though ^e might, in truth, be the friend ; but when they Jiave l^een put;^ce_onJoJim, and when their officers h»re dashed to the front with a wave and halloo. those rebel hearts hav^softener aM tîeFr gaîTan^C^ boiled with the mad joy of the fight, until the slower * 4 THE GREEN FLAG. Britons havc marvelled that they ever coulJ Lave cloubted the loyalty of their Irisli comrades. So it Would be again, according to the officers, and so it would not be if Deanis Conolly and a few ethers coiild hâve their way. ., ■ t I r^- It was a March morning upon the eastern fiinge of the Nubian désert. The sun had not yet risen ; but a tiuge of pink flushed iip as far as the cloudless zénith, and the long strip of sea lay like' a rosy ribbon across the horizon. From the coast inland stretched drear}' sand-plains, dotted over with thick'clumps of mimosa scrub andj mottled patchéS^of thomy bush. No" tree bfoke the monotony of that vast désert. The dull, ^ dusty hue of the thickets and the yellow glare of the sand were the ouly*colours, save at one point where, from a distance, it seemed that a landslip of snow-white stones had shot itself across a low foot-hill. But as the travellerapproachedhe saw, with a thrill, that thèse were no stones, but the bleaching bones of a slaughtered army. "With its dull tints, its gnarled viprous bushes, its arid, barren soil, and this death streak trailed across it, it was indeed a nightmare country. Some eight or ten miles inland the rolling plain curved upwards with a steeper slope until it ran into a line of red basaltic rock which zigzagged from aorth t0"soutb, beaping itself^p at one point into à^ fantastic knoU. On the summit of this there stood d Lave So it it would ild hâve f liage of i ; but a 3 zénith, n across [ drearj' mimosa Ncî" tree i« duU, ^ e of the where, w-\vhite But as -^ at thèse ightered bushes, 1 ' d across ig plain ran into d from E iûtô a re stood 1 .1 1. 'i \ THE GREEN FLAG. 5 upon that March morning three Arab cLleftains— tlie Slieik liadra of the Hadendowas, Moussa Wad Abur- hegei; wt»o led the Berber dervishes, and Hamid Wad Hussein, who had corne northward with liis fîghtin^ men from the land of tlie Baggaras. They had ail three just risen from their praying-carpets, and were peèring out, with fierce, high-nosed faces thrust forwards, at the stretch of country revealed by the spreading ' dawn. The red rim of the sun was pushing itself now above the distant sea, and the whole coast-line stood out brilliantly yellow agaiust the rich deep blue beyond. At one spot lay a huddle of white-waUed houses, a mère splotch in the distance; while four tiny cock- boats, which lay beyond, marked the position of three of Her Majesty's ten-thousand-ton troopers and the Admiral's flagship. But it was not upon the distant town, nor upon the great vessels, nor yet upon the sinister white litter which gleamed in the plain beneath them, that the-A^rab bhieftains gazed. Two miles from where they stood, amid thesand-hiUs and the mimosa , scrub, a great parallelogram had been marked by piled- up bushes. From the inside of this dozens of tiny bluc smoke-reeks curled up into the still morning air; while there rose from it a confused deep murmur, the voices of men and the gruntings of çamels blended intft.tha= same insect buzz. me insect buzz. ^^ "The unbelievers hâve cH|d their mor^^r food," :*. '■i .6 THE QREEN PLAG. ^ ■ said the Baggara cbief, shading his eyes with his tawny, siaewy hand; " Truly their sleep lias been but scanty ; for Hami(i and a bundred of bis men bave fired upon theni since the rîsing of tbe moon." " So it was with tbese otbers," ariswered tbe Sbeik Kadra, pointing witb bis sbeatbed sword towards tbe old battle-field'. " Tbey also bad a day of little water and a night of little rest, and tbe beart was gone ont of tbem ère ever tbe sons of tbe Propbet bad looked tbeni in tbe eyes. Tbis blade drank deep tbat day, and will again before tbe sun bas travelled from tbe sea to tbe bill." "And yet tbese are other men," remarked tbe Berber dervisb. " Well, I know tHat Allah bas placed tbem ih tbe clutcb of our Angers, yet it may be tbat tbey with tbe big bats will stand firmer than tbe cursed men of Egypt." , " Pray Allah tbat it mày be so," cried tbe fierce Baggara, witb a flash of his black eyes. " It was not to chase women tbat t brougbt seven bundred men from the river to tbe coast. See, my brother," already tbey are forming their array." • '\. A fanfare of bugle-calls burst from tbe distant camp" At the same time tbe bank of bushes at one side bad been tbrown or trampled dawn, and the little army within began to move slowly out on to the plain. "Once clear of tbe camp tbey balted, andStEe sïant rays^ of the sun struck flasbes from bayonet and from gun- GREEN FLAG. barrel as the ranks closed ii'p untiT the big pith h^mets joined into af single long white nbbon. Two streaks of scarlet glowed on either side of the squafe, but else- where the fringe of fighting-men was of the dull yellow khaki tint which hardly shows against the désert sana. In^e their array was a dense mass of dftmels and mûtes bearing stores and aïnbulandl^ needr Outside a twinklingr^I^p of cavalry wgis drawn up ou each flà^k, and in front a thin scattered Une of mounted infantry was already slowly adva^cing over the bush- I strewn plain, halting on every eminence, and peering warily round as men might who hâve to pick 'théîr steps amongrthe bones of those wM hâve preceded them. The three chieftains still lingered upon the knoU, looking down with hungry eyes and compressed lips àt the dark steel-tipped patchi ^ — -" ^'They are slower to~Wï than the merof Egypt," th« Sheik of the Hadendowas growled in hjs beard. " Slower also* tô go back, perchance, my brother," . murmured the dervish. '^ And yet they are not many —three thousand at the most." •'And we ten thousand, with the Prophet's grip upon our spear-hafts and his words upon our banner. See to their chieftain, how he rides upon the right and looks up at us with the glassjjiat sees from afarl It jnay be that he s^ this also.:' The Arab shook hi« sword at the small clump of horsemen who had spuired out from the square. ^ . J f •fimm » ifc, v '"V- j!,.,^ *,■/; A 8 THE GREEN FLAG. " Lo : hc beckons," cried the dcrvish ; " and see those others at the corûer, how they bend and heave. Ha* hy the Prophet, t had thought it." As he spoke a little woolly puff of smoko spurteU up at the corner of the square/and a seven-pound shell f biirst with a hard metallic smack- just over their headg, The splinterà knocked chips from the red rocks around them, "Bismillah!" cried the Hadend^; "if the gun can carry thus far, then ours cari answ^ to it. Eide to the left, Moussa, and tell Ben Àli to eut the skin. from the Egyptians if t^ cannot hit yonder mark. And you, Hamid, to the^^ght, and see that three thou- sand men lie close in the wady that we hâve chosen. Let the others beat the drum and show the banner of- the Prophet ; for by the black stone their spears M'ill hâve drunk deep ère they look upon the stars agaîn." A long, straggling, boulder-strewn plateau lay^ the summit of the red^hills, sloping very precimtoij^ly to the plain, save at one i^t, where a w^MMly curved downwards, its mouth choked with l^^^^s -and olive-hued scrub. Along the edge of this position thé Arab host, a motley crew of shock-headed ^^#fltSïnen, fiercé predatory slave-dealers of the «^ild dervishes from the Upper Nile, ail *il»eir' cpmmon fearlessness and races were there, as wide as the poles^ pped, straight-lwired Arab, and the i i ■I" I 1 ^ 1 .1 ^: / %• THE GREEN FLAG. . 9 . • ||iick-lipped, cudy negro; yet thc faith ^f Islam had -■ i^d them doser than a blood tie. Squatting among l rocks, or lying thickly in the sliadoN^,» they peered mit at the slow-moving square beneath them, whilè \*\ i'# Vomen with water-skins ànd bags of dhoora fluttered from group to grotîp, callingout to each ôther those^ fighting texts fro'm the/ K6rati which in the hour of battle are maddening as wine to the true believer K score of bannei;s>aved over the ragged, valiant crew, -: and among them, up6n désert horses and white Bishareen camels, were the Emirs and Sheiks who were to lead them against the.infidels. " As the Sheik Kadra sprang into his saddie and drew liis sword theré was a wild whoop and a clatter of Nvaving spears, whila the one-ended war-drums burst into a dull crash like a wave upon shingle.' For a moment ten thousand men were up en the rocks with brandished arms and leaping figures ; th& next they • were under cover, again waiting. sternly and silently for their chieftàin's ordefs. The square was les"s than half a mile from the ridge now, and shell after shell from the seven-pound guns were pitching over it. A deep roar on the right, and then a second one showed that the Egyptian Krupps were in action. Sheik Kadra's hawk eyes saw that the shells burst far beyond the mar k, and he spurred his horse ^lô n^ to where a^ j_ Fnôt of mounted chiefs were gathered round the two . guns, which were seyved by their càptuted crews. ' I n THE QREEN FLAG. / "How is this, Ben Ali?" he cried. ".It was not thus that the dogs fired when ît was their own brothers in faith at whom they aimed ! " A chieftain reined his horse back, and thrust a blood-smeared sword into its sheath. Beside him two Egyptian artillerymen with their throats eut were sobbing ont their lives upon the ground. "Who lays^the gnn this time?" asked the fierce chief, glaring at the frightened gunners. " Hère, thou black-browed chUd of Shaitan, aim, and aim for thv life." It may hâve been chance, or it may hâve been skill, but the third and Iburth shells burst over the square. • Sheik Kadra smiled grimly and gaUoped back to the fêft, where his spearmen were streaming down into the guUy. As he joined them a deep growling rose from the plain beneath, like' the snarling of a suUen wild beast, and a Uttle knot of tribesmen feU in a struggling heap, caughtr in the blast of lead from a Gaidner"! Theh- comrades pressed on over them, and sprang down into the ravine. From aU along the crést burst the hard sharp crackle of Eemington fire. The square had slowly advanced, rippling over the low sandhills, and halting every few minutes to re- arrange its formation. Now, having made sure that there was no force of the en ett y in t he scru b, it changed î^^mféctîon, and began to take a Hne paraUel to the Arab position. It was too steep to assail from the THE GRBEN FLAG. n front, and if they moved far onough to the right the General boped that he might turn it. On the top of those ruddy hillslay a baronetcy for him, and a few extra hundreds in his pension, and he meant haviiig them both that day. The Remington fire was annoy- ing, and so were those two Krupp guns : already there were more cacolets full than he cared-to see. But on the whole he thought it betlier to hold his lire until he had more to aim at than a few huudred of fuzzy heads peeping over a razor-back ridge. (He was a bulky,'red- faced man, a fine whist-player, and a soldier who knew his Mrôrk.) His men believed in him, and he had -ood reason to believe in them, for ho had excellent stuff under him that day. Being an ardent champion of the short-service System, he took particular care to work with vétéran first battaUons, and his little force was the compressed essence of an army corps. The left front of the square was formed by four companie^ of the Eoyal Wessex, and the right by four of the Eoyal Mallows. On eitlier side the other halves of the same régiments marched in quarter column of companies. Behind them, on the right was a battalion of Guards, and on the left one of Marines, while the rear was closed in by a Rifle battalion. Two Eoyal Artillery seven-pound screw-guns kept pace with the "wtîtê-bIôlôer^£flrors,unTer their blue-coated, tight-waisM officers, trailed their Gardner in front, turning every now and then to spit up at the e J # t 12 THE GREEN FLAG. draggled banners which waved over the cragged ridge. Hussars and Lancers scouted in the scrub at each side, and within moved tie clump of camels, ^ith humorous eyes and supercilious lips, their comic faces a contrast to the blood-stained men who already lay huddled in the cacolets on either side. The square was now moving slowlyon a line parallel with the rocks, stopping every few minutes to pick up wounded, and to allow the screw-guns and Gardner to make themselves felt. The men looked serions, for that spring on'to the rocks of the Arab army had given them a vague glimpse of the number and fêrocity of theh- foes ; but their faces were set like stone, for they knew to a man that they must win or they must die— and die, too, in a particularly unlovely fashion. But most serions of aU was the General, for he had seen Ihat. which brought a flush to his cheeks and a frown to his brow. "I say, Stephen," said he to his galloper, "those Mallows seem a trifle jumpy. The right flank company bulged a bit when the niggers showed on the hill." " Youngest troops in the square, sir," murmured the aide, looking ^t them critically through his eyeglass. " Tell Colonel Flanagan to see to it, Stephen," said the General; and the galloper sped upon his way. TIiq Colonel, a fine old Celtic warrior, was over at C Company in an instant: ^. " How are the men, Captain Foley ? THE GREEN FLAG. 13 " Never better, sir," answered the senior captain, in the spirit that makes a Madras officer look murder if you suggest recruiting his legiment from the Punjaub. " Stiffen thera up ! " cried the Colonel. As he rode awray a colour-sergeant seemed to trip, and fell forward into a mimosa bitsh. He made no effort to rise, but lay in a heap amon^ the thorns. '^ "Sergeant O'Rooke's gone, sorr," cried a voiee. "Never mind, lads," said Captain Foley/ "He's died Hke a soldier, fighting for his Queen." "To hell with the Queen!" shouted a hoarse voice from the ranks. But the roar of the Gardner and the typewriter-Hke clicking of the hopper burst in at the tail of the words Captain Foley heard them, and Subalterns Grice and Murphy heard them ; but there are times when a deaf ear is a gift from the gods. ^ o ^-^ - o • >-A " Steady, Mallows ! " cried the Captain, in a pause of thegrunting machine-gun. "We hâve the honour of Ireland to guard this day." "And well we know how to guard it, Captin!" cned the same ominous voice ; and there was a buzz from the length of the company. The Captain and the two subs. came togethcr behind the marching lîue. "They seem a bit out of hand," murmured the~~ Captain. 14 THE GREEN PLAG. "Bedad," said the Galway boy,"" they mean to scoot like redshanks." " They nearly broke when the blacks. showed on the hill," said Grice. " The first man that turns, my sword is through him," cried Foley, loud enough to be heard by five files on either side of him. Then, in a lower voice, "It's a bitter drop to swallow, but it's my duty to report what . you think to the Chief and hâve a company of JoUies put behind us." He turned away with the safety of the square upon his mind, and before he had reached his goal the square had ceased to exist. In their march in front of what looked like a f^ce of cliff, they had come opposite to the mouth of the guUy, in which, screened by scrub and boulders, three thou- sand chosen dervishes, un^er Hamid Wad Hussein of the Bagarras, were crouching. Tat, tat, tat, went the rifles of three mounted infantrymen in front of the ieft shoulder of the square, and an instant later they were spurring it for their lives, crouching over the mânes of their horses, and pelting over the sàndhills with thirty or forty galloping chieftains at their heels. Rocks and scrub and mimosa swarmed suddenly into life. Eushing black.figures came and went in the gaps of the bushes. A howl that drowned the shouts Of the ^fficçs^ a long quavering yell, bg'rat from th&amhm^ cade. Two rQlling volleys from the Royal Wessex, one ..j&^.î^^w '.-■'.: THE GREEN FLAO. 15 crash ^om the screw-gun firing shrapnel, and then befors a\second cartridge could be rammed in, a living, glistenin^ black wave tipped with steel, had rolled over the gun, .the Royal Wessex had been dashed back among thel camels, and a thousand fanatics were hewing and na|bking in the heart of what^had been the square. The camels /and mules in the centre, jammed more and mor^ too/ether as. their leaders flinched from the rush of the ^ribesmen\ shût out the view of the other three 'faces, who could only tell that the Arabs had got in by the yells upon Allah, which roëe ever nearer and nearer ^mid the clouds of sand-dust, the struggling animais, and the dense mass of swaying, cursing men. Some of the Wessex fired back at fhe Arabs who had passed them, ,as. excited Tommies will, and it is whispered* among doctors that it was not always a I{emingto^ bullet which was eut from a wound that ' day, Some rallied in little knots, stabbing fuiiously with their bayonets at the rushing spearmen. Others tumed at bay with their backs against the camels, and others round ttie General and his stafif; who, revolver in hand, had flung themselves into the heart of it. ^But the whole square was sidling slowly away from the gorge, pushed back by the pressure at the shattered corner. .^The officers and men at tfae^otfaêf fec ês Were gîàncÎDg" nervously to their rear. uncertain what wfts going on, 16 THE GREEN FLAO. - ^ 9 and unable to take help Jx) their comrades without breaking the formation, " Bf Jove, they've got through the Wessex ! " cried Grice of the MaUows. " The divils hâve hurrooshed us, Ted," said his brother subaltern, coeking his revolver. The ranks were breaking and crowding towards Private ConoUy, ail talking together as the officers . peered back through the veil of dust. The sailors had run their Gardner out, and she was squirting death out of her five barrels into the flank of the rushing stream of savages. - - . - • • " Oh, this bloody gun ! " shouted a voice. " She's jammed again." The fierce iîïetallic grunting had ceased, and her crew were straining and hauling at the breech. . " This damned vertical feed ! " cried an officer. " The spanner, Wilson, the spanner ! Stand to your cutlasses, boys, or they're into us." His voice rose into a shriek as he ended, for a shovel- headed spear had been buried in his chest. A second wave of dervishes lapped over the hillocks, and burst upon the machine-gun and the right front of the line. The sailors were overborne in an instant, but the MaUows, with their fighting blood aflame, met the yell of the Moslem with an even wilder, fiercer cry, and ^opped two hiiûdred of them with a single point-blank volley. The howling, leaping crew swerved away to ^ THE GREEN FLAG. 17 t^he right anch had fended them off. There was a stmgX » -reannng. a mnle relled over. a wounded man S;!' throngh the m«ow gap sûrg^ a stream of naked— »^,,maa wift battle, dmnk «ith sla„ght«r spT^ -^ splaahed with Uood-b.ood dripping L^'^ 20 THE GREEN FLAG. speats, tlieir arins, tlieir faces. Their yells, their bounds, tlieir crouching, daiting figures, the horrid energy of tlieir spear-thrusts, made them îbok like .a blast o^ fiends from the pit. And were thèse the Allies of Ireland ? Were thèse the men who were to strike for her against her enemies ? ConoUy's soûl rose up îç loathing at the thoughtf " 4> He was a man of firm purpose, and yet at the p^ sight of those howling fiends that purpose faltered, an'd, at the second it was blown to the winds. He saw a huge coal-black negro seize a shrieking camel-driver and saw at lus throat with a knife. He saw a shock- headed tribesman plunge his great spea!li;^brough the back of their own little bugler from ;\ïîllstfeet. He saw a dozen deeds of blood — the murdër of the wounded, the haeking of the unarmed — and caught, too, in a „ glance, the good wholesome faces of the faced-about - rear rank of the Marines. The Mallows, too, had faced about, and in an instant Conolly had- thrown himself into the heart of C Company, striving with the officers to form the men up with their comrades. But the mischief had gone too far. The rank and file had no heart in their work. They had broken before, and this last rush of murderous savages was a hard thing for broken men to stand against. They flinched from thç furious. faces and dripping foreaxms. Why should they throw away their lives for k flagf= for which they cared notJiing ? Why should their /" rs THE GREEN FLAG. 21 iV, lemfer urgê them to break, and iow shrielJ to them lo re-form^ They would not re-fonn. They wanted tb r getto the/sea and to safety. He «ung himself among tliem wlfii outstretched arma, with words of reason, with shoutg, with gaspings. It was useless; tlie tid& was beyond his control. Thôy were sliredding ont int0 the désert with tlieir faces set for the coast. ^ ^'Bhoys, wUl ye stand for this ? " screamed a voice. It was so ringing, so strenuous, that the breaking Mallows glanced backwards. They were held by what they„saw. Privàte Conolly had planted his rifle-stock downwards in a mimosa b^sh. From the fixed bayonet there fluttered a little green flag wj^th the crownïess . harp. God knom. for what black mutiny. for what signal of revolt, th^t flag had been treasured up Within the Côrporal's tunicïj Now its green wisp stood amid the rush, wjiile three proud regimental cqlours were reeling slowly backwards. " What for the flag ? " yelled the private. ' " My heart's blood for it ! ànd liiine ! and mine ! " cried a score of voices. " God bless it ! The fla^r boys -the flag!" - ° C Company were rallying upon it. The stragglers clutched at each other, and pointed. " Hère, MfeQuire, Hynu, O'Hara," ran the shoutings. " Close on the ûa fasb, still closed in on the- little jebel ensign that flapped frbm the mimosa bush. , It was a good hjilf-hour beforé the squai-e, having dis- entangled itself from its difficulties and dressed its ranks, began-^to slowly move forwards over the ground, across which in its labour and' anguish it had beei^ driven. The long trail of Wessex men and Arabs showed but too clearly the path they had come. , "How many got into us, Stephen ?" asked ^he General, tapping his snuif-box. \ -^ "I should put them'dow;n at a thousand or twelve hundred, sir.'* ^^^--.^ - . " I did not see any get out àgain. What the devil were the Wessex thinking about ? The Guards stood well, though ; so did the Mallows." ' ^ --^ "Colonel Flanagan reports that his front flank Com- pany was eut off, sir." ^ " " Why, that's the Company that was out of hand when we advanced !" " Colonel Flanagan reports, sir, that the Company took the whole brunt of the attack, and gave the square time to re-form." " Tell the Hussars to ride forward, Stephen," said the General, "and try if they can see anything of them. There's no firing, and I fear that the Mallows will want ^ô do sôme recruîÉîng. Xet thé sqïïaie take^^ound by the right, and tben advance ! " c^ V, '■^^ .y^.! «ï»#«!î^^7^"^^ THE GREEN FLAG. 23 . But the Sheik Kadra of the Hadéndowassaw from ^ Lis knoll that the men with tfie big hats had ralUed, ; and that they were coming back in the quiet business fashion of men whose work was before them. He took counsel with Moussa theloervish and Hussein the Bagarra, and a woestruck man was he when he leamed that t^e third of his men were safe in the Moslem Paradise. So, having- stUl some signa of victoyy to show, he gave the word, and the désert waniors flitted off unseen and unheard, even as they had comev A red rock plateau, a few hundred speays and Remingtons, and a plain which for the second tim^ was strewn with slaughtered men, was ail that his day's fighting gave to the English General. It was à squadron of Hussars which came first to the spot where the rebel flag had waved. A dense Ktter of Arab dead maxked the place. Within the flag waved , ïo loQger, but the rifle still stoôd in the mimosa bush, and rounà it,.i5ith their wounds in front, lay the' Feni^ privaté and the silent ranks of his Irishry. SenUmfi2iLiajiût_an_English fd^^ but the Hussar Captain raised his hilt in a sainte as he rode past the blood-soaked ring. ^ ' ^ The British General sent home dispatches to his Government, and sojid the Chief of the Had^dowa^ to his, though the style and manner difiered somewhat in each. « The Sheik Kadra of the Hadendowa people fe. tf'ifi;^-*V-'. . j« ,- â4 THË GRÈÊK FLAG.. to Mohammed Ahmed, the chosen of Allah, homage and greeting," began the latter. "Know by this thit on 'the fourth day of this moon we gay^ battle to the Kaffirs who call themselves Inglees, having with us the Chief Hussein with ten thousand of the faithful. By the blessing of Allah we hâve broken them, an4 chased them for a mile, though indeed thèse infidels are différent from the dogs of Egypt, and hâve slain very many of our men. Yet we hope to smite them again ère the new moon be come, to which end I trust that thou wilt send us a thousand Dervishes* from Omdurman. In token of our victory I send you by this messengôr a flag which we hâve taken. By the colour it might well seem to hâve belonged to those of the true faith, but the Kaffirs gave their blood freely to save it, and so we think that, though small, it is very dear to them." CAPTAIN SHARKEY. I. HOW THE GOVERNOR OP SAINT KITT'S CAME HOME. WfiEN the great wars of tbe Spanisli Succession had been brought to an end by the Treaty of Utrecht, the vaat number of privateers which had been fitted out by the contending parties found their occupation gone. Some took to the more peaceful but less lucrative ways of ordinary commerce, othera were absorbed into the fishing-fleets, and « few of the more reckless hoisted the JoUy Eodger at the mizzen and the bloody flag at the main, declaring a private war upon their own account against the whole human race. With mixed crews. recruited from every nation, they scoured the seas, disappearing occasionally to careen in some lonely inlet, or putting in fo^r a debauch at some outlymg port, where they dazzled the inhabitanta by On the Coromandel Coaat, at Madagascar, in the Afncan waters, and above ail in the Weat Indian and 23 i "SÇi-" 26 CAPTAIN SHARKEY. . American seas, the pirates were a constant menace. With an insolent luxury they would regulate their déprédations by the comfort of the seasons, harrying New England in the summer and dropping south again to the tropical islands in the.winter. They were the more to be dreaded because they had nône of that discipline and restraint which made their predecessors, the Buccaneers, both formidable and re- spectable. Thèse Ishmaels of the sea rendered an account to no man, and treated their prisoners accord- ing to the drunken whim of the moment. Flashes of grotesque generosity altemated with longer stretches of inconceivable ferocity, and the skipper who fell into their hands might find himself dismissed with his cargo, after serving as boon companion in soîne hideous debauch, or might sit at his cabin table with his own nose and his lips served up with pepper and sait in front of hinr. It took a stout seaman in those days to ply his çalling in the Caribbean Gulf Such a man was Captain John Scarrow, of the ship Morning Star, and yet he breathed a long sigh of relief when he heard the splash of the falling anchor and swung at .his moorings within a hundred yards of the guns of the citadel of Basseterre. St. Kitt's was his final port of call, and early next morning his bowsprit would be pointed for Old England. He had had enough of those robber-hïiunted seas. Ever since he had left Maraéaibo upon the Main, with his full lading .A- and woa the sde- survivor of a schooner which had been scuttled by the dreadful Sharkey. M n i ^JlA^UAltmi. *PTO * t ^i' > 'c' * &U^II^ •* 28 <;aptàin sfllRKEy.. For a week Hiram Evanson, for that was his name, liad been adrift beneath a tropical sud. Sharkey liad ordered the mangled remains of his late captain to be thrown iuto the boat, " as provisions for the voyage," but the seaman had at once committed it to the deep, lest the temptation should be more than he could bear. He had lived upon tis own huge fratne, until, at th^ last moment, the Morning Star had found him in that madness which is the precursor of such a death. • It waa no bad find for Captain Scarrow, for, witk a short- handed crevv, such a seaman as this big New Englander was a prize worth having. He vowed that he was the only man whom Captain Sharkey ha4 ever placed under an obligation. ^ ■ Now that they lay under the guns of Basseterre, ail - danger from the pirate was à an end, and yet the thought of him lay heavily upon the seaman's mind as he watched the agent's boat shooting out from the custom-house quay. " *' "l'U lay you a wager, Morgan," said he to the first mate, " that the agent will speak of Sharkey in the first hundred words that pass his lips." "Well, captain, 111 hâve you a silver dollar, and chance it," said the rough old Bristol man beside him.. The negro rowers shot the boat alongside, aud the • linen-cla d ste ersman spmng up the ladder. " Welcome, Captain Scarrow ! " he cried. " Hâve you heard about Sharkey ? " . / i; '^\ CAPTAIN SHARKEY. 29 Tht3 captain grinned at the mate. " What devilry has he been up to uow ? " ho asked. " Devilry ! You've not heard, then ! Wliy, we've got him safe imder lock and key hère, at Basseterre He was tried last Weduesday, and he is to be hanged to-morrow mominsr." Captain and mate gave a shout of joy, wbich an instant later was taken up by the crew. Discipline was forgotten as they scrambled up through the break of the poop -to hear the news. The New Englander ™ in the ftont of them with a radi^^nt face turned up to heaven, for he came of the Puritan stock. " Sharkey to be hanged ! " he cried. " You don't know, Mastef Agent, if they lack a hangman, do you ? " "Staîid bacfc! " cried the mate, whose outraged sensé' of discipline was even stronger than his interest at the news. " m pay that dollar, Captain Scarrow, with the lighteèt heart that ever I paid a wager yet. How came the villain to be taken ?" " Why, as to that, he became more than his own comrades could abide, and they took such a horror of him that they would not hâve him on the ship So they marooned him upon the Little Mangles to the south of the Mysteriosa Bank, and there he was found by a Portobello trader, whobrought him in. There waatalkof se n ding him to Jamdea ta ha ir4^ i... _ ' — — ^ ^ w»tiia>njti iiu^ uc tneu, Dut our — good Httle gdVernor, Sir Charles Ewan, would not hear of it.^ 'He's my méat/ said he, 'and lolaim the ik».. ♦30 CAPTAIN SHARKEY. cooking of it.' If you can stay tiU to-morrow morning at ten, you'U see the joint swinging." "I wiskj coul'd," said the captain, wistfully, "but l am sadly behind time now! I shoald start with the evening tide," "That you can't do,". said the agent -with décision. " The Govemor.is going baçk with you." V The Governor !" "Yes. . He's had a dispatch from . Government to retura without delay. The fly-boat that brought it has gone on to Virginia. So Sir Charles has been waiting ' for you, as I told him you were due before the rains." " Well, well! " cried the^capta^n, in some perj)lexity, "l'm a plain seamàn, and I don't know much of goyemors and baronets and their ways. I don^t re- memlTer that I ever so much as spoke to ône. But if it's in King George's service, and he asks a cast in the Mornirt^ Star as far aa London, l'-U do what I can for him. There's my own cabin he can hâve and welcome. Aàto the cooking, it's lobscouse and salmagundy six days in the week; but he can bring his own cook aboard with him if he thinks our galley too rough for his taste." " Tou need not trouble your mind, Captain Scarrow," said the agent. "Sir, Charles is in weak health just now. onfy clear of a quartan ague, and it is Ukely he ^^^ ^^^P ^^ cftt)in most jjt Jihamyage^; J^r. LMeu88«^ said that he would hâve sunk ha^ the hanging of <-„ 'J 1 CAPl'AIN SHAKKEr, 31 Sharkey not put feh life into Wm. He bas a great pmt m h.m, th«gb, and you mu.t not blame hT lie is somewhat sbort iu bis speecb." ■ "He may say wbat be likes anddo wbat be likes so long as be doea not eome atbwart my bawse wben I am And, by bM leavo. I must weigb with tbe fim tide for I o^^Jutyto .y employé. Justaabe doea toK^g "He eau scarce be ready to-nigbt. for be bas many aings to, set in order before be leaves." ^ " The early morniug tide, tben " anl I^'^^r;?',. ' """' ''°^ '^^ "^S^ "t-o^O 'o-nigbt and be ,„11 foUow tbem to-mor„,w early if I ean pre vaj «pon him to leave St. Kitfs without seeing Sbarkey ■ do Uae :.g„e> bornpipe. Hia own ordei. we^ i„ Ï -'marbetbatbewiilco^eatonce. It ia "Cj Jefl to themselves, tbe eaptaîn and mate made tbe beat prey^tions whieb tbey eould for tbeir iUuatriol Paaaenger. Tbe la^est cabin waa tumed o„t ^ ^^dmbiabonour,andorde..e.givenbylS bmugbt oiT to vary, tbe pbùn food of an ooean-goin» - ^ amve-g^at i^nbound ant-proof trumca^oST t» packu.g.oaaea, witb otber atrange-abaped pack^ ''Si il ^'''-i.ji!/^,,.*»!- .'n . 32 CAPTAIN SHAHKEY. whicL suggested the cocked hat or the sword within. ^ And tlien there came a note, with a heraldic device upon the big red seal, to say tliat Sir Charles Ewan made his complimeiits to Captain Scarrow, and that he hoped to be with him in the morning as early as 'his duties and his infîrmities would permit. He was as good as his word, for the first grey of dawn had hardly begun to deepén îhto pink when he was brought alongsid.e, and climbed with some difficulty up the ladder. The captain had heard that the GÔver- nor was an eccentrie, but he was hardly prepared for the curions figure who came limping feebly jiown his quarter-deck, his steps supported by a thick bamboo cane. He worea Eamillies wig, ail twisted into little tails like ar^âbdle's coat, and eut so low across the brow that thejflarge green glasses which covered his eyes looked as if they were hung from it. A fierce beak of a nose, very long and very thin, eut the air in front of him. His ague had caused him to swathe his throat and chin with a broad linen cravat, anihe wore a loose damask powdering-gown secured by a cord round the waist. As he advanced he carried his master- fui nose high in the air, but his head turned slowly from side to side in the helpless manner of the pur-, blind, and he called in a high, querulous voice for the. captain. " ^0^ ^^ve J^ y tlUngs r ' he a^^^^ "Yes, Sir Charles." CAPTAIN SHARKEY. 33 •^t THaveyou wineaboard?" '^'ï hâve orderedfive cases, sir." "And tobacco?" a ' "ThereisakegofTrinidad.'' " Yoii play a hand at picquet ?" " Passably well, sir." " Then up anchor, and to sea ; " Tliere was a fresh westerlv wind en u .r. '. / Sun was fairly throu^h thT ^ *^' ^^™^ ^^^^ "xy mrougù the niornm;[T i,àzo +],p ^i,. '"." down from the islands. The d^'p V'*"" ™^ sliU limped the derfc- ™;ti . '^"'P" Govetnor "Every inch, Sir Chai-les." •■ Keep her 30 if you blow the sails ont of her I f man a poor eon.panion for yo„r voyage ' '"' -etyrj:rptj:7j;^-..ee„e.y. eyes <ào«ld be so afflicted." " ""^ "'^' y»™ " Yes, indeed. It fa the cursed «lare nf ,u the white sti^ts of Baaseterre wh-Vh^ ""■ "° b«m them eut." '"'' '"^. g'»'^ ^r to .Wvv ■. - iasfe». 34 CAPÏAIN SHARKEY f " Yes ; I hâve had a pyrexy, which lias reduced me much." " We had set aside a cabin for your surgeon." " Ah, the rascal ! There was no budging him, for he has a si^ug business amongst the merchants. But hark!" He raised his ring-covered hand in the air. From far astern there came the low deep thunder of cannon. " It is from* the island ! " cried the captain in astonishment. "Can it be a signal for us to pUt back?" The Governor laughed. " You hâve heard that Sharkey, the pirate, is to be hanged thi§ morning. I ordered the batteries to sàlute when the rascal was kicking hiâ last, so that I might know of it out at sea. There's an end of Sharkey ! " " There's an end of Sharkey ! " cried the captain ; and the crew took up the cry as they gathered in little knots upon the deck and stared back at the low, purple line of the vanishing land. It was a cheering omen for their start 5|^oss the Western Océan, and the invalid Governor found him- self a popular man on board, for it was generally understood that but for his insistence upon an im- médiate trial and sentence, the villain might hâve played upon some more vénal Jiidge' and so escaped. ~ At dinner that liay Sir Oharles gave many anecdotes^ of the deceased pirate ; and so affable was he, and so I i 4 CAPTAIN SHARKEY. ^^ skilfui iu adapting his conversation tn degree, that captain, mate andr "'"'' '^ ^°^*^' ' long pipes andLk re^retÏtr 'T' ''''' ^ should. ^''*f ^l^^^egoodcomrades "And what figure did Sharkev p^^ • .u ' asked the captain. ^ ^ '^ ^^\ ^^^^ ? " ^Heisa man of somepr^sence/'said the Governor I had always understood that hp '"'^'^^'^^or. -eeringdeviV;ren.arkedthe JL ' "" ^^ "^"^^' " I hâve heard a Npw Ro.»^ j , -« couM net f.rj:!^::^:^':- 7 ''"'' M.^ Waa ti.at net so, Si. Cha^,:"' "'■""""^<' 'hem. It is „ell for them tW ^ '""""' «P»" hi- with st™. and C; mL^ r"" '"" ="^-' The idea seemed f. %"«-head." ^-^e^ddenara^Tnli^^!!™-' '» '■« ■ .-^^R .-■: 36 CAPTAIN SHARKEY. sailed the western scas, and that as grotesque a fato might corne to bc their own. Another bottle was brôached to drink to a pleasant voyage, and the Governor would drink just one other on the top of it, so that the seamen were glad at last to stagger ofî — the one to his watch and the other to his bunk. But when after his four hours'HSpell the mate came down again, he was amazed to see the Governor in his Eamillies wig, his glasses, and his powdering-gown still seated sedately at the lonely table with his reeking pipe and six black bottles byjiis side. ^ . " I hâve drunk with the Governor of St. Kitt's when he was sick," said he, "and God forbid that I should ever try to keep pace with hîm when he is well." The voyage of the Morniny Star was a successful one, and in about three weeks she was at the mouth of the British Chànnel. From the first day the infirm Gover- nor had begun to recover his strength, and befoïe they were halfway across the Atlantic he was, save only for his eyes, as well as any man upon the ship. Those Avho uphold"^l[ë nourishing qualities of wine might point to him in iriumph, for never a night passed that he did not repeat the performance of his first one. And yet he would be out^on deck in the early morning as fresh and brisk as the best of them, peering about with his weak eyes, and asking questions about the sails and the riggjng. for'he was anxious to learn the ways of the sea. And he made up for the deficiency of his eyes by --•'N - j i' 'J/f^^^k. '. l ' C'APTAIN SHARKEY. ■f J s? obtainiBg W from the captain that the New Eu-land seaman-he wl,o had beeu cast away in »!,„,! 3.t bes,de b.m whea I.e playçd carJs and ooun h! of the vile Sh«\ , ''°' """' *^^ ^i^^tirn w tue Mie feharkey, and the other waa h;« n, One could see that ,> w T ^'^°^^''- cabinand % his great stub-nailed forer.e'l 1 card which lie should nîay ]>.^„ 7, ^ ^ "" ^^^ ]ifflfl ,-n fi 1 ^ ^' ^^^^een them there was iittle m the pockets either of Captain Snn. . Moi^an, the fi.t mate, by the ^ ^ "J " '' Li2ard ^ °'^ ^^^^ «^S:hted the "lore insolent anc^le and W..I T ^'°^'^ ^^ "Poverhissho^t"^:^^^^^^^^^ of the carnentPr ^i, T ''''^^ ^^^^ ^^^ head grombling and tait .?'""'' ^' *'**" "'*'* ''«^ »<"»e Provision, hTwli o •" """7 "'" ""^ ^'^'^ «^ ">« . was of opinion that they should not wait ■m. <# '# ■r 3« CAPTAIN SHARÉEY. for the dogs to rise, but that they should march forward and set upon them until they had trounced the dèvil- ment out of them. '-' Give me a knife and a bucket ! " he cried with an oath,^d could hardly be withheld , from setting forth alone to deal with the spokesman of the seamen. Captain Scarrow had to remind him that though I^e might be only answerable to himself at St. Kitt's, killing became murder upon the high seas. In politics he was, as became his officiai position, a stout prop of the House of Hanover, and he swore in his cups that he bad nevêrmet a Jacobite without pistolling him where he stood. Yet for ail his vapouring and his violence he was so good a compa|iion, with such a stream of strange anecdote and réminiscence, that Scarrow and Morgan had never j^a^n a voyage pass so pleasantly. And then at |^ngth came the last day, when, after passing the isl|^, they had struck land again at the high white cMs at Beachy Head. As evening fell the ship lay roUing in an oily calm, a league off from Winchel^, with the long dark snout of Dungeness ;'jutting dut in front of her. Next morning they would pickup their pilot at the Foreland, and Sir Charles might meet the king's ministers at Westminster before the evening. Th« boatswain had the watch, and the three friends werô met for a last tum of cards in the ~cabiir,-The faithfuî^Mèrican stîll servîng^as the Govemor. There waa a good stake upon the table. ^ ■ ' CATTAm SIUnKEir. 39 for thé ,ailo« had tried où thi, laat night to win their pocket of h.3 long.flapped silken waistcoat. l»egame'smme!"saidho. / "Heh, Sir Charles, not so fasti" cried Captain " Scarrow; «you hâve not played eut the hand td we are not the loseis." :Xd îe^r 4?a ""h ': ^"^ '^ -« -»aoo.and,eheidr;j:,;r:îrc neighing la„; ■""' ""^ '"' ?»"' -'» hi. high. ••andT" ?'''" " *° """O' «^""««'en," «ùd he and this is Eoarine Npd fioii^». ., ' «f the ffapp, 7)^4 wf "7'^; '^« 'ï««««™aster marooned „f: „,« J„ ,^l"^* « "<"' ""l - they oarles, boat You Z ^^ "'^' »'"' •■'■" » » d<^-w^»:;.d y: X::;r rr' r-'--^ J^ou may shoot, or you mav noH " o • ^ « 40 OAPTAIN SHARKEY. " " If it's my last breath, Sharkey, I tell you that you are a bloody rogue and miscreant, witli a lialter and , Iiell-fire in store for you ! " ^ " There's a man of spirit, and one of my oWn kidney, and he's going to make a very pretty death of it !" cried Sharkey. "There's no one aft save the man at the wheel, 80 you may keep your breath, for you'il need it soon. Is the dingey astern, Ned ? " ' " Ay, ay, captain !" " And the other boats scuttlèd ? " " I bored them ail in thr^e places." " Then we shall hâve to leave you, Captain Scarrow. You look as if you hadn't quite got your bearings yet. Is there anything you'd like to ask me ? " - * "I believe you're the devil himself !" cried the captain. " Where is the Governor of St. Kitt's ? " " When last I saw him his Excellency was in bed with his ttroat eut. When I broke prison I learnt from my friends— for Captain Sharkey bas those who love him in every port-that the Governor was starting for Européunder a master who had never seen him. I climbed his verandah, and I paid him the little debt that I owed him. Then I came aboard you with such of his things as I had need of, and a pair of glasses to hide thèse tell-tale eyes of mine, and I hâve ruffled it as a governor should. Now, Ned, you can get to work - upo n t hein." — — "Help! Help! Watch ahoy ! " yelled the mate; ' " I T • 1 CAPTAIN SHAEKET, 41' ^ but the butt ,of the pin.te's pistol c.a.hed dôwn ou to h.s hMd and he d«,pped Hke a pithed ox. ScaL; ™shed for the door. but the sentiuel clapped hish^d -er ^,3 .outh. and th.. h. otW a™ .„„d tu "No use, Master Scarro-.v," said Sharkey. « Let us «ee you go down on your knees and be, for your Ufe." JE''' *"'' "•" '■»•"'<'■ N«l- No,V will you » " '"W) ; not if you twist it oft'." f, " Put an inch of your knife into hin. " " Vou may put six inches, and then I won't " •■Puflrk T' '"' "'^'-'"^ed' Sharkey. Put your knife m your pocket, Ned, You've saved your stan, Searrow, and ifs a pity to stou „ ^■•ould not ..ke to the only tr«de ^h re a p^ y feZ anp.kupalivin, You.usthebornfornl Zl iivea to tell the story. Tie him up, Ned." " To the stove, captain ? "• quartermaster. " Von <,n..i j ' ^^® g, ^ „ ^«" s^rely do not mean to let him^ mmiifi ^ TS 42 OAPTAIN SHARKET. "ll^yoïi and I were marooned on!a Bahama cay, Ned, Galloway, it is still for me to command and for you to obey. Sink you for a villain, do you dare to question my orders ? " . " Nây, ûay, Captain Sharkey, not so hot, sir ! " said the quartermaster, and, lifting Scarrow like a child, he laid him on the table. "With the quick dexterity of a seaiùan, he tied his spreadeagled hands and feet with a rope whidi was passed underneath, and gagged him securely with the long cravat which used tb adom the chin of the Govemor of St. Kitt's. "Now, Captain Scarrow, we must take our leave of > you," said the pirate. " If ^ had half a dozen of my brisk boys^t my heels I should hâve had y our cargo and your ship, but Eoaring Ned could not find a fore- mast hand with the spirit of a mouse. I see there are some small craft about, and we shall get one of them. When Captain Sharkey has a boat he can get a smack, when he has a s^ack he can get a brig, when he has a brig he can get a barque, and when he has a barque he'U soon haye a fuU-rigged ship of his own — so make haste into London town, or I may be coming back, after ail, for the Morning Star." Captain Scarrow heard the key turn in the lock as they left the cabin. Then, as he strained at his bonds, he heard their footsteps p^s up the companiQUi and aloag the qua rter- d e ck to^wber» the dingey b m ^ ia~^ the stem. Then, still struggling and writhing, he J \' v OAPTAliî SHATîKÈr. . 43, h^ard the creak of the falls and tl,e splashof the boat m the water, In a mad fuiy he to,« and dragged at h ™ued from the table. sp„.ng over the dead n,ate k. ked hi, way through the closed door, and ruahed hatless on to the deck. ^ Cutlaaséa and patois! Clear away the long-boat - Clear away the gig ! Sharkey, the pirate, ia inyonder dm^y. Whistle ùp the larboard watch, bo'sun, and tumble into the beats ail hands " Down splashed the long-boat and down splashed th,-< »ig, but m an mstant Oie çoxswams and crews *ére swa™mg„p the falls on to the deck once mo«. ', ■ The beats are scuttled!" thèy cped. . "Th^ „, ' leakiog like a sieve." .,, ^ "î? The captain gave a bitter curie.' He had been l^aten and outwitted at every point. Abpve JTI Ta! ' • "^"r ^^^ '"'PI-'"''y « '''e mooni, ~>Cv:r:iigir-'!-^!--^f>; • „" '^'y *~ ^^ «"e" 1 " cried the captai»/ •' A shout ^'*"' '"'^'' t »wan.themofthiH.L» "' ~"^nl îtwas too late. At that very moment the dingey shot inte the - '^'^ r\. 44 CAPTAIN SHARKEY. shadow oF the fishing-boat. There were two rapid / pistol-shots, a scream, . and then another pistol-shot, foUowed by silence. Tlie clustering fishermen had Si^ disappe^ed. And then, siiddenly, as the first ptiffs of a land-breeze came ont from thè Sussex shore, the boom, swiing eut, the mainsail -fillèd, and ^he little ?raft crept ont with her nose to the Atlantic. /v« r\. \/ CAPTAIN SHARKET. 45 rapid >l-sliot, n had. pnHs ire, the : little TBE DEALIKQS OF CAPTAm SHARKEY Wim STEPHEN CRADDOCK. CABEEm^ „.as a verynecessary opération fo7 tte oH pirate. On hi, snperior speed he depended both for overhauhng thé trader and escaping the man-^f-4r. But it was impossible to retain his sailing .^ni,, «oless he periodically-once a yea, at the leas - c eared h.s ressers bottomfton, the long, t,.iling plants and crustmg barnacles whichgather se rapidly in the tropical seas. •^ ■> For this purpose he lightened his vèssel, thrust her in some na„ow inlet where she would be Ieft\i"h ■ and dry at low water, fastened blocks and tackles °to ber masb to p„U her over on to her bilge, and then smped her thoroughly from rudder-post to cntwoter. Dimng the weeks which were thus ocoupied the ship ^aa, of course, defenceless; but, on the otherhand, she ^vas unapproachable by anythinUeavier than an empty Wl and the place for careening was chosen with an ^J^^^^^J,»^iMrt\mm^mmW»^t danger. So secu«, did the baptains fee), that it was net > ■ V..-4, '^; ^'^^' CAPTAIN^ARKEY. imcommon for them, at such times, to leave their ships under a suflBcient guard and to start off in the long- boat, either upon a sporting expédition or, more fre- quently, upon a visit to some outlying town, whére they turned the heads of the womeri by their swagger- ing gallantry, or bro^hed jjj^pes/>f wine in the market square, with a threat to pistol ail who would not drink with them. Sometimes they would even appear in cities of the size of Charleston, and walk the streets with their clattering sidearms — an open'scandal to the whole law- abiding colony. Such visits were not always paid with impunity. It.was one of them, for example, which provoked Lieutenant Maynai-d to hack ofif Blackbeard's head, and to spear it upon the end of his bowsprit. But, as a rule, the pirate ruflfled and bullied and drabbed without let or hindrance, until it was time for him toj go ba-ck to his ship once more. There was one pirate, howéver, who never ôrossec even the skirts of cwiliÀktian; and th9,t was the sinistel Sharkey, of the barque Happy ^elivery. It may hav€ been from his morose and solitary temper, or, as is more probable, that he knew that his narae upon the coast was such that outraged humanity would, against ail odds, hâve thrown themsèlves upon him, but never once did he show his face in a settlement. — When hÎ Bship^ was laid upfae would leave hemnder^ the charge of Ned Galloway — her Ifiew England quarter- i OÀPTAIJf SHARKET. 47 master-and wpuld take Iodî? vova^es in h,-» ï. . of the yl.„,der, and sometimes t„ shoot tL lid oZ spottop>okh,.„p,„dtakeonboardj»,hathew elderly log.ood-cutter who had faUen into the pL" hands and in .onae freak of drunken benevol nceTad been allowed to get away with nothing wol I J sht nose and a drabbino Hi. „ . • défaite Th„ tT t °'"'""' ''''" ■^««"t "nd ' défaite. The5«;,;,^jrfi,«.^„^^^^^ ^ on the sonth-west of . Hispaniola. Sharkey wifh f men, was buccaneerin" on the o„M i " -^overûor, sitting m solemn conclave with the ^„m 48 OAPTAIN SHARKEY. overhaul tho pirate on the seas, nor roach her in a shallow inlet. There were forts and artillerymen both at Kingston and Port Eoyal, but no soldiers ayailable for an expédition. ^ - A private venture might be fitted ont — and there were many who had a blood-feud with Sharkey,^but what could a private venture do? The i)irates were, numerous and desperate. As to taking Sharkey and his four companions, that, of course, would be easy if they could get at them ; but how were they to get at them on a large well-wooded island like La Vache, fûll of wild hills and impénétrable, jungles ? A reward was offered to whoever could find a solution, and that brought a man to the front who had a singular plan, and was himself prepared to oarry it out. Stephen Craddock had been that most formidable per:^n, the Puritan gone wrong. Sprung from a décent Saleni family, his ill-doing seemed to be a recoil from the austerity of their . religion, and he' brought to vice ail the physical strength and energy with which the virtues of his ancestors had endowed him. He was ingénions, fearless, and exceedingly tenacious of purpose, so that vhen he was still young his name became noterions ipon the American coast. He was the same Craddock who was tried for his -V. life in Virginia for the slaying of the Seminole Chief,- aad, Aoagh he escaped, it waa weU Jwowïutiiat corrupted the witnesses and bribed the judge. :..y:; -s^/^k.* OAPTAIN, SHARKEr. Stewards, as a slaver anrf . « . <« " pirate, he h«, kft J;""." '^^"' «« " ^^ hinted, ■ Kght of Bénin.. F^aUv TTT '"'''"' '^'» « *« ^ ;:f " a conside^Me Se" ^î"^ f -"«• to Ja.„iea - 1^« of aomb«, dissipation T. """^^ '^»'^° ^ » • «-t-e, and dangeruTwho "" '"^ """■' ^-nt, «overnorwittaplanTlh! T" "'^'*<' «P»" the "> Bpite çf some rumeurs oTJ «"«"«iasm, fe f»" the Govemors àisll^ ^'f ''<'°'^' Craddock ^^al and r^st^ed ::;::;' ""'" "^ '''^ ^^ 0^ J^ouVe no call f« ^ , f "«-^-a^fron.i':: -'f ■" -id te. ••Vr. . f^-^-nat.afterfl;;::"; •?^"'' '^^ «^v- John Simons, of our°„ """«'«'«on of the frit shouW be i 17;;" ^^'- Sir, if your . , «-a^.3.ee.sa^t-;;;;^..on..o., . "î^« r^:r:^^r-'^-a..n.. " |Cmddoo£,"saidhe '^"^ "^ «'''^W, Master " ^0 œan Sharkey i»'', , , >.j ?raddook. "His wicked .„ T^ "^ ^'^'^•' ^^ 50 CAPTAIN BHABKBY. ,p„st. A plan ho^ been given to me wheroby I may " encompasa liis destruction." _' The Governor was keenly.interested fo th.- J^ .^.andpracticalairaho„tthen»ns.^Wfa^ .,,.Ushoweatha.be^^.Y:;r:eret--''e he chosen for the business. w Praddock" .. This wiU be a dangerous task, Maater Craddock, "Ï; „eet my death at it. it n,ay be that itwiU - eJsethen,en>ory,ofauiU-spentHfe. Ibave.uch to atone for." ^ contradict him. The Governor did not Bec m3 wuj i. ..What was yonr plan ?"beasked ^^l^ J ^ ..You hâve heard that Sharkey's baxqnei^We J»l'i-y mivery. <^me from thi. very port ot K.^^:^ .. It belonged to Mr. Codrington, and W^ hy Shaxkey, who scnttM Ms .-"/^-^^^^J^ into her bccause shc was faster," said S.r Edwari .. Yes • but it may be that you hâve never heard that Hr C^inoton has a sister ship. thc Wm iJo» wh.ch t. evt n;w in the harbour. and which is so Uke ttre - ^. that, if it were not for a wbite pdnt Une, none ^uldtellthemapart.'- _ ^he Governor UeeS.withtheairofonewboisîustontheedge of an idea. ■ f^w*~ <»»*; ~t • tand of La Vache, where en. When he sees me is own vessel which he ^ on hoard to his own CAPTAIN SHAIIKEY. 51 our ":?.'''' "'""''^'"^■"^'''^''«'^"'^™-^-^ "Andhow?" • " I will point out the stroak upon the mUc Ho^ and make it in ail thiogs like the Jfapp, Beliv,,-^. ihen I wiU set sail ' "-* , , . . if this man is slaying he will surely mistak is awaiting, and he -w undoing." It was a simple plan, and yet it saemed to the Govornor that it might te effective. Without heeita- Uon he gave Craddoek permission to corry it eut, and object wh.o&,^he bad i, view. Sir ^ward,waa not very sangttine, for many attempts had been made ujon Sharkey, and their results had shown that he was aa eannmg as he w,a ruthless. But this gaunt Puritan wift the ev.l record was cunning and rutJlaIso . The contest of wits between two such men as Sharkey and Cxaddock appealecf to the Govemar's aonte sensi ^ sp^rt, and thongh he ^as inwardly convinced that ^e ohances were against him, he baoked his man with ^esameloyalty, which he would bave shown to his hprse or his cock. • ^Haste was , ab ovo alX-thin g ,. n o c ô oa a. , . f„. „p„„ ^^y jday tt.e careenmg might be iinished, and the piraj ont at sea once more. But there was n^ veiy much V 52 CAPTAIN SHAEKEÏ. to do, and tee were many willing hands to da it. 80 the second day saw the Whitc Rose beating out for t be . open sea. Tliere were manyseamen in the port who knew .the Unes and rig of the pirate barque, and not one ot them could see the sUghtest différence in tto counterfeit. Her white side Une had been pam ed oat, her masts and yardswere smoked, to give them the din»y appearance of the weather-beaten rover. and a larg°e diami-nd-sbaped patch was let into her foretopsail. Her crew were volanteers, many of them bemg men «ho had sailed with Stephen Craddock before-the „>ate, Joshua Hird. an old slaver, had been his accom. pUce in many voyages, and came now at the bulding of his chief. , ^ m v d^a The avenging barque sped across the Canbbean Sea and, at the sight of that patched topsail, the Uttle craf which they met flew left and right like frightcned trout in a pod. On the fourth eveqing Point Abacou bore - five miles to the north and east of them. ' On the flfth t»y %ere at anclior in the Bay ot Tortoises at the Isfend of I^ Vache, where Sharkey and his four men had been huriting. It wSs a Wl-^ woodedjplace, with the paUns and underwoo^ growing down tf the thin orescent of silver sand which skirted the 3h«e. They had hoisted the black flag and the C«ddock stiined his eyes, «oping ev^y instan* W Ja boat 8hoo.#.ut to them with Sharkey seated m % 3 CAPTAIN SDARKET. 53 tie .hoofa. B«t thc night paased away, and a day and yetanother night, without anysign of thc „en whi ' hey ,vere endeavouring to trap. U ,„oked JinZ were aiready gone. ^' sea^l !r """' "''""■■«' ^'™<''^* - * "^"^ore in were still upon the island. What he fonnd reassnred woT '• """ '"'"^ *°- -- » "ouoan of 1™ wood, such as was nscd for preserving the meat^l • ,. ^"l^ !""* ""'^ "'" ''"'^■' "'on.seIvo8 ? Was it fh.f thoy had detected that this wa, not fh ■ Or wA .t that they „ere hunting in tho interior of the Craddook was still hesitating between the two'alter^l ir ""^r » '^"^ I^Oian came dcvn with info™ tZ" The pirates were in the island, he said and ~'""'- was a day's march from the sca Th. T. "'""^ 1 wife, and the marks of T . ^ ^ "'^ ''"'"" '''^- ' tue marks of their str pes wera «tni „:„, ^«MWunder the gnida^^^— '«^ M^r they ,tr„gg,ed.hro„ghbrnsh.ood and ij' '■fi nrm*m LÀ! . ^, «4 OAPtAlN SHARKEY. over rocks, pushing their way further and further into^ the desolate heart of the island. Hera and there they found traces,of the hunters, the bones of a slain ox, or the marks of feet in a morass, and once, towards eveningr it seemed to some of them that they heard the distamt rattle of guns.^ That night'they spent under the trees, and pnshed on again with the earUest light. About noon they came'to the buts of bark, which, the Carib told them, were the camp of the hunters, but they were silent and deserted. No doubt their occupants- were away at the hunt and would re^urn in the evening, so Craddock and his men lay in ambush in the brushwood around them. But no one came, and another night wàs spent iû t^ie forest. Kothing more could be donc, and it seemed to Craddock that after the two days' absence it was timo that he returned tb his ship once more. The return journey was less difficult, as they had already blazed a path for themselves. Before evening they found themselves once more at the Bây of Palms, and saw their ship riding at anchor where they had left . l^er. Their boat and oars had been hauled up among the bushes, so they launched it and puUed ont to the barque. " • ' «No luck, then!'* cried Joshua Hird, the mate, looking down with a pale face from the poop. "His camp was empty^ut he may corne d«wii te «s- yet," said Craddock, with his hand on the ladder. . V 55 ^ J CAPTAIN SH^RKEY. . . Somebody upon deck began to laugh. '' l think " " Why so ? " "If you will coffle aboard. .ir, yoû wiU «nfestand it. He spoke in a cftrious hesitating fashion. Tho blood flashed to CmidoêVs gaunt face. ' How :s this. Master Hird ? " he !ried, sprin^in. „d bearded man, whom h^\.^ l ' *'''^" Cn^ddoclc clutehed at the feWa ' v* Ll H "Whatrogueryi.thiar'shéuted Craddock lookin. funously ar^und hio.. But the c^lw stood 'in S knot, about the deck, laughing and whiapering amo^!^ them.elves without .howin'g any desi» to 1 JT assistance. Even in that humed glan c«l t nohced that they we,« dressed in thi ZtÏ T manner, with lnn„ „-j- "'•most singular , wuh long ndiog-coats, fuU-skirted yelvet gowns and coloured ribands at their knees moJ n! men of fashion than seamen ' " ''''" ,*•• ,( ^«telooSTMat the-îrgro(«squefi,™e3 heT.h„.i, ..• WwithhisclenchedflstVbeT^tUT:: «0 \«l 56 CAPTAIN SHARKEr. • V awake. The deck seemed to be much dirtier than when* he had left it, and there were strange, sun-blackened faces turned upon him from every side. Not one of them did he know save only Joshua Hird. Had the ship been captured in his absence ? Were thèse Sharkey's men who- wei'e around him ? A t the thought he broke furiously awa^ andtried to climb over to his boat, but a dozen hands were on him "in an instant, and he was piished aft through the open door of his own cabin.- A0 it was ail différent te. the cabin which^e had left. The floor was différent, the ceiling was différent, the furniture was différent. His had been plain aiid austère. This was sumptuous and yet dirty, hung with rare^velvet eurtains splashed with wine-stains, and paneled with costly woods which were pocked with pistol-marks. On the table was a great chart of the Caribbean Sea, and beside it, with compassés in his hand, sat a clean- shaven, pale-faced man with a fur cap and a claret- coloured coat of damask. Craddock turned white under his freckles as he looked upon the long, thin, high- nostrilled nose and the r.ed-rimmed eyes which were turned upon him with the fixcd, humorous gaze of the master player who has left his opponent without a move. " Sharkey ! " cried Craddock. " Sharkey ! cned Craddock. Sharkey's thin lips opened and he high; sniggering laugh, broke înto his 57 ',. CAPTÀlIf sHAeket. , " You fool ! " ho cHcd, aJ^ Icanins over Iw ,t»Ki i C^ddoek. shoulder again and a,ai. Ci^: ; l^^" mtempt ,a Sharkeys voioe which tumed Cn.ddock .nto a Savage madman. ' He flew at the pi«,te Jl„„ -th „^.e, striking. kicking, writhing. and foa. „Tï! » r '!^ "'*■' '0 -^-g W- down on to the floor a'mid! tfce splintered remains of the tablp »„,. . ? siï to1,„ j- . . ■ table— and not one of the sixwho did not bear the prisoner's mark upon him ' - But Sharkey stiU surveyed him with the samë Z' temptuous eye. Mm outside there came ,he Ish" What is that ? '■ asked Sharkey. "Theyhave stove the boat with- cold shot n,„l ,i men are in the water." ' "'^ "'" Craddock, you know where you are. You are £ j u xui a stout seaman, you rofrup haf»*. nooieanerthan-my^^r'-^fÎ:--:;^-. ^ your siiip s Company ? " j;^i3myshipr'a,ked craddock " - "And «the hand» ?» : I * r. . :t.tii ■ "V 5^^ 'C^ ".^k 'Si CAFfL^lN SHABKEY. «. ,^' '^.: " Ifi the bay, j^o." ^■ " Then, l'm M the b|y also." Crl:^6pk dut pon' deck, and G^li^y, .thQt'l}iai^^a^^ "idy.dràW iâs ^âng# to cl^rf'fc^î-wte,^'' ^ing fram his c^bin M» an «^ér? Iwith the hound!" he cried. S^là rare plan. Throw H^ into the thâ' irons on, and ^o yôu p^e bere, qu^ritàsfcèr, that I may tell ypu what I h%^ in my K. m « ,\. So%raddock, bruiséd and wounded in soûl a^ body, was tlirown into the dark sail-room, so fettered that he 'èould not stir hand [or foot, but his Northern blood was > rùnning strong inhis veins, and hfs grim spirit aspiréd ' ' onlyto make such an 'ending aa inight go some^^way . , towards atoning for, the evil of his life. AU night he ' lay in tlie curve of the bijge listening to the rush of the ^'C water and the straining of thé timbers which told him that the ship was at sea, and d;dving fast. In the early morning some one came crawling fco him in the darkness over the heaps of sails. " Here's rum and biscuits/' said the voioj mate. "It's^^he risk of my life^ that î brîng I ^ ^, It tWas you who trj^pped me and c^i^^Hi^ as in a t-ji; * . %3 late Idoçk, 59 OAPTAIN SHARKEY. ■' GM forgive you for a coward, Joshua Hird How came ybu into their hands ? " . ' ' , ._«, ,'^> *^'^°'«' Craddock, the pirate ship came back TheWaid „a aboard.and. short-handed as we were w,* ' th^app^est Thepthers were til^ afterwardi 1 / And they scuttîed my ^hip^?* • IJ^Tk'""""' ^''' "'"' "'«° Sharkey and his men ' to^the sh,p. Hia mainyard had been cracked and ' ^shed laat voy^ 30 be bad suspicions ,„f nsX' «.at ours was Aie. Iben he thongbf of layL the -me .^p:for yen .„hich ^ou l,ad set f;r him." ' ' ' traddock groaned. "How came I not to see that fished mainyard r- he as Jamaica."' • «. S . ■ J, ^^*^ < towd;^g Jamaica. "Wititweîpti^iiorasâ: ."ff«'eyou hearf what thi^rhean t,«Io With meft dS> ^' ^^-^-l' ..# î-X»^ %!V '■«.-Bî. ^ sign Ùï& ■■*-r IpO CAPTAIN SHARKEY. " I havépot b«ard. If you would but articles — ■ — " , " Enough, Joshua Hird ! I hâve risked my soûl too oftecC " As 4'oti wish l I hâve done what I jould. Fare- well!" ^ 1 Ail that night and the nekt day the Happy Deîiverij ran before the easterly trades, and Stephen Craddock lay in the dark of the sail-room working patiently ^t his wrist-irons. One he had slipped off at the cost of a row of broken and bleeding knuckles, but, do what he would, he could not free the other, and his ankles were securely fastened. From hour to hour he heard the s^\^sh of the water, and knew that the barque must be driving with ail set in front of the trade wind. In that case they must be nearly back again to Jamaica by now. Whaf plan could Sha*rkey hâve in his head, and what use did he hope to make of him? Craddock set his teeth, and vowed that if he/iad once Been a villain from choice hé would, a.t least, never be ohe by compulsion. On the second niôrning' Craddock became aWare that sail had bee^ reduced in the vessel, and that she was tacking slowly, with a light breeze on her beani. The varying slope of the sail-room aiid the sounds fi^om the deck told his practised sensés exactly what sîie was doing. Thê ôhortnreaches showed Iiim* thatr sbe wtK^ masioeuvring near shore, and making for some definite 7 • • i \ 'S' un Fare- 61 CAPTAIN SHARkey. . But suddenly there came the shufflm^ of ,. s»Je, and he had har^I. „• . ™'"««'S "f stepg out- -und Ms f„e land^^en I , """ '"^ '^^^^ "'"^^ t>™ Pimtes came in " '''^ ''°''°"«'' ""l <''^'>i3>eg3hacWe3Ci~-'f'-"Knock he'. safe^Ui them on"' ''' ''" ^''^^'''~ • Wlth hammer and chi^»! n,„ i^s. '"'"' ""^ «arpenter loosened the " Corne on deck and you'U see." ' \. "'\'" «|H« ■fr tfi*. %m SÈARKEY. % 62 The sapSfËfSiliSiî'ÏLÎin ty the arm aud dragîîed hiin . ^ 'the foot of the companion. Aboté him was a sqtiare of bliie sky eut across by the mizzen gaff, with it was the sight bf Is-éy the colours' fiying at the thbse coloûrs which stïuck the breath frotn Stephen ^rijl^ddock's lips. For there were two of them, ànd the ritish ensign was flying above the JoUy Eodger— the cpest flag above that of the rogue: For an instant Craddock stopped in amazement, but a ,* brutal push from the pirates behind drove him up the \' ■ . compaiion ladder. Aë he stepped out upon deck, hig eyes tuïned up to the ma^, and there again wejiB the British colours flying ajjove the red peunant, and^S the f&^ shroudsî%nd i^gging were garlanded with streamers. t . Had thëF%hip been taken, thenfv But that was im- possible, for there werç the pirates clustering in swagns a^ong the port bulwftrkiï^jand wavingtheir hatsjoyously in the air. ;^jMost'*grominent of alli was the renegade mate, standTl^ on Ijhe foc'sle head, and gesticulating wildly. Grad^k looked over the ëidè to see what they were chj^^^é ^t, and &n in a Ssh hê'saw how critical was the moment. -j^lfei, * m* ' i, . On the port bow, an4jy)ô3^a mile off,Jay thô white - houses and forts of PoMpoyM, with flags breaking out ^' ■■^s working out against th^^very slight wind. The British '*?* ^.vérywhere over theiraoofs. Eight ahead was the opening of the palisades leading to the town of Kiijgston. % CAPTAIN SHARKEY. ■9^ % Cniddock would WmsJift 1 ^''^*'''P"'*'"«h "aek victorioua. iT^ A- ''''' '"' ^"^ """^ "': "«" 'fi- *ip wieh The g'": J r '" "■*"'"^ "-d «.e chiefs of the islan,. «"^mandant, «>« Jite^t etake thatt." ^^ ''"'^'^ '"'^'^ «'o- "^-.wl^ir^pvedfo,,,. Ϋarterma3ter.' «KeenTr ^'""''' '^ft% "'^V the Bort „ ^ ■ P°"' ^^o»'^''' b«<*!(lï I ^ "^ ^*^ *« t^em. Quick, or your ^ / 64 CAPl'AIN SHARKEY. w- brains will be over your coat. Put an inch of your knife into Mm, Ned. Now, will you -wave your hat? Try Lim again, then. Hey, shoot bim ! stop him ! " But it vvas too late. Eelying upoji the manacles, the quartermaster bad taken bis hands for a moment off Craddock's arm. In tbat instant be bad flung off tbe carpenter and, aniid a spatter of pistol buUets, bad sprung tbe bulwarks and was swimming for bis life. He bad been bit and bit again, but it takes many pistols to kill a resolute and powerful man wbo bas bis mind set upon doing sometbing before be dies. He was a strong swimmer, and, in spite of tbe red trail wbicb be left in tbe water bebind bim, be was rapidly increasing bis distance from tbe pirate. " Give me a musket ! " 'cried Sbarkey, witb a savage oatb. He was a famous sbot, and bis iron nerves never failed him in an emergency. The dark\bea^ appearing on the crest of a roller, and then swooping down on the other side, was already half-way to the sloop. Sbarkey dwelt long upon bis aiiô before he fired. Witb tbe . crack of the gun tbe swimmer reared bimself up in tbe water, waved bis hands in a gesture of warning, and roared out in a voice wbicb rang over the bay. Then, as tbe sloop swung round ber bead-sails, and tbe pirate fired an impotent broadside, Stephen Craddock, smiling =grimly in Ma^4eatb agony, stœk slôwly down tô^hat^ golden coucb wbicb glimmered far beneath bim. GAFTAm SHARKEY. 65 ïir. The B / ^A^AIN SHARKEY. "»' ""o» Urb^^h,^' J "'"' "f the Main .«« 'he N,theriands-or Z, 1 T*"' "' ^^^ "Po" American land,. "^^ '"'' ^"^"^ i° thèse same The chief of tha f> ■^^Wûry conscience iflf ''^^'^'^ «evcnteenth- ^e«> touched ^th rchW^T-r'^- ^""^ "^ "'ém h-Batrand Danie, J^^ J- overb^ ,^ ^ [•'meverence. ^ ^'^ " ""» l»fo™ tie aitar '#; V f gg CAPTAIN SHÀRËEY. i But there aame a day wlien tlie fleets of tlie Bucca- neers no longer mustered at the Tortugas, and the solitary ahd outlawed pirate took their place. Yet even with him the tradition of restraint and of disci- , pline stiU Ungered; and among the early pirates, the ^-^ Avofys, the Englands, and the Eobertses, there re- mained some respect for human sentiment. They were more dangereux to the merchant than to^ the «... seaman. . But they in turn were 'replaced by môre savage and desperate men, who frankly recognized that they would . rret no quarter in their war with the human race, and who swore that they woiild give as little as they got. *. Of their historiés we know little that is trustworthy. They wrote no mepoifs and left no trace, save an occasional blackened and bloodstained ^ dejrelict adrift upon the face of the Atlantic. Their deeds could only ^ be surmised from the long roU of sWps who nevier made, ' their porl , , ° " ~ ' .' / ' ' ^ SearcUing the records of history, it is only hère and there in an old-world trial that the veil. tliat shrouds- them seems for an instant to -be lifted, M we catch- ' a gjimpse of some .amazing and grotesque bi^titaUty behînd. Such was the breed of NedLow, of Gow the, "' Scotchman, and of the ihfamouâ Shaxkey, whçse coa,!- " known from the - ijlack btt i- que, t^ MappyM ive ty^WM Newfoundland Banks tb the mouths of the Orfûo^p as the dark forerunner of misery and of d^eath ï » ''■ 'f'.^ •^. o Vi CAPÏAIN SHARKEY, • • \j There were mariy men, both nmoDg the islands and ou the main, who had a blood feud witl. Sharkey but not one who had suffered more bitteriy than cdttley ' Banks, of Kingston. . JJanks had beeu oné of the" leading sugar merchant». of the West Indies He was a man of position, a m^piber of the Council the husband of a Percival, and tho cousin of the Govérnor . of Virginia. Hi, two sons Imd been sont to London be educated, and their mothor ^àd gone over to 'bmg tàem.baok. On- their return voyage the ship, ^ the Sudi^ss of Con^wall, fell into the hands of Sharkev and the whole family met with an infamons death Copley Banks said Ettle vhen -ho heard the news *' buthe sank into a morose and.. nduring meltocholy.' «6 ,neglect«i^ business, avoid^d-'his friends, and _^ent much of his li,„» in tho.Iow -favern, of the ^^ermen and seamen. There, an,idst riot and devilry • W ^''^"«y P»ffing at his pipe, with a set'fcee «,„i ; a smWdering eye. It was ge^ierally supposod lh«t Ui m.sfortnnes had .haken his .wifs, ànd*, „,a ftiends Iflpked athrm askance; for tha. companj ,vhich h. Un ■was enough to bar Mm fi<^ honest men Frotf time to time there^camo ru^,oti« of SK„kev H pro^Hnn g to offu hyl p u,' the bn^a ^ n^ shjp had W away at.the siglkt of the sleek ' Wa.K,I ^„„ -•"rianghkea^lfnèaiamaggjed-^hee^ Ç^ , . 1. Wj'^jlj ade Frceman. the man^.er. reali.e I. t ther. ,vas trutb in the mmour tharhis »aster l.ad takén leave of his sensés. F«r, under one pretext or another, he began to dismiss the old an^ tried hands, he embarked the scum of the port-men whose reputa- tiobs were so vile that the lowest crimp woild hâve been ashamed to furnish them. '' There wo. TCr thma. k O .eet locfa. who' wy know, to hare been présent at the killing of the Wood cutters, so that his hideo,. scarlet disfigur^menl Z ^ X . / m il 70 CAPTATN SHARKEV. put down by the fanciful as being a red afterglow from that great crime. He was firsfc mate, and under him was Israël Martin, a little sim-wilted fellow who had served with Howell Davies at the taking of Cape Coast Castle. . The crew were chosen from amongst .those whom Banks had met and known in their own infamous haunts, and his own table-steward was a haggard-faeed man, who gobbled at you when he tried to talk. His beard had been shaved, and it was impossible, to re- cognize him as the same man whom Sharkey had Dlaced under the knife, and who had escaped to tell his exper^ces to Copley Banks. «V- Thèse doings.were noi nnuotiCed, nor yet uncom- " mented upon • in the towji of Kingston. The Conj- mandant of the troôps— Major Harvey, of the Artillery — made seriouâ représentations, to t]ie Govérnor. " She is not a trader, but a «jnaîl warship," said he. " I think it would be as wûW to aiTe^t Copléj^ Banks and to seize the vessel.' ' \ , .- "What do you suspeefc ? '*,; asked the Govenior, who was a slow-witted man, broken down with fevers and port wme. ' \ " I suspect," said the soldier, " that it is^tede Bonnet" over again »» — o Now, Stede- Bonnet was ii planter of high réputation and religion 3 rhnrafiter^ who; from sothr sudden and overpowering freshct of wildness în his blood,. had givenup everyfel^ing in qîrder ta.at^t off pirating m * f CAPTAIN SHARKEY. h the Caribbean Sea. The example was a récent one, and it had caused the utmost consternation in the islands. Goyernors had before now been accused of being in leape with pirai:es, and of receiving commissions upon . . tKeir plunder, so that any waut of vigilance was open to a sinister construction. " Well, Major Harvey," said he, " I am vastly sorry to do anything which may offend my friend Copley Banks, for many a time have my knees been tnder his mahogany, but in face of what you say there is no choiôe for me but to order you to board the veséel and to satfefy yourself as to her character and destination.'^ „ So„at one in the morning Major Hâ-vey, with a launchful of his soldiers, paid a surprise visit to the Buffiinj ffarri/, with the resuit that they picked up nothing more sohd than a hempen cable floûting at the moorings. It had been slipped by the Tfig, whose owner had scented danger. She had already passed the Palisades, and was beating out against the north- ej^t trades on a course ïot the Windward Passacre / When ùpon the nèxt moï-ning the brig had leffc .Morant Point a m€re haze upon the Southern horizon, the men vere caJled i^i, and Copley Banks revealed hk plans to tkeni. Me héà *^>sen th^em, he said, as brisk boys and lads of siarit, wYxo w^Mâ ratfaer r^ gome risk irt et^u I > -1 King's ships W6r« k-w and weair, mé ihay could i«aêteF any trad^^ who »i^. cm&e ^Iwif wmf. Othen hâd ^ ■•V «^ 72 CAPTAI.V SIIARKEY. ^^ fi donc well at the business, and with a handy, well- found vessel, there was no reason why tliey Should not tum their tarry jackets into velvet coatâ. If they were prepared to sail under the black flag, he was ready |o commandiihem ; but if any wished to withdraw, they might hâve the gig and row back to Jamaica. ' Ifour men out^of ' six-and-forty asked for their dis- charge, went over the ship's side into the boat, aif^ rowed away amidst the jeers and bowlings qf the crew. The rest assembled aft, and drew up the articles pf their association. A square of black tarpaulin had the white skull painted upon it, and was hoisted amidst cheering at the main. Officers were elected, and the limits of their authority fixed. Copley Banks was chosen Captain, but, as there are no mates upon a pirate Vaft, Birthmark Sweetlocks became quartermaster, and Israël Martin the boatswain. There was no difficulty in knowing what was the custom of the brotherhood, for half the men at least had serVed upon pirates before. Food .should be the same for ail, aûd no man should interfère with another man's drink ! The Captain should bave a cabin, but aU hands. should be welcome to enter it when they chose. Àll ehôi^ld share and share alike, save only the captain, ^uartermaster, boatswain, carpenter, and masier-pwwit^ Whô h^ &©m a quarter to a w^hol" dbie ^âHL .He who saw a ynm first should hâve the Sf '^■ i f \. v» ■A ' • «APTAIN SHAKKET. 73 best weapôu takenout of her. He .Iho baàrded her ■ «^'^■'-"iaveW richest suit of elothes abo,^ „f • l'er. Every man Vight treat his owo prisoner, be it man or womàn. after his own fashion. ul ^m flmched from his gun, the q„arte™aster should pistor b m Tb<^e wcM some of the rules which the c«w 9f the It„s,„g ff«„y subscribecl by pnttiog forty-two crosses at th« foot of the paper „po„ which they had been draM-n. So à «ew,rover was afloat npon the seas. and her . name be ore a year was over became a., well known as' bat of the ffapp, mivcry. From the Bahamaa to the Leewards, and from the Leewards tothe Windward^/ Copley Banks became the rival of Sharkey and tte"^ erroroftn.ders. For a long ti^e the ba„i le and Îe the Rufi.,y Harnj was for ever looking in at Sharkey's resorts; but at last one day, wben she was passif down the ,n,et pf Coxon's Hole, at the east^nd of Cub^ w.th the intention of careening, then, was the . Happy Dd^vcry, with her blocks and tackle-falls already ngged for the same purpose^ •* Copley Banks fired a shotted salute and hoisted the :TZT''^' ^^-'-^■-Pr^dhisboatand" Captain Sharfcfey was n«t a man^f , génial mood, nor W he any k.ndly sympathy fer tho«, who we,. pf .% 74 d CAPTAIN SHARKEY. tlie samé trade as himself. Copley Banks fourni him seated astride upon one of the after gnns, with his New England quartermaster, Ked Galloway, and a crowd of roaring ruffians standing about bim. Yet none of tbem y roared witb quite sucb assurance wben Sharkey's pale face and filmy blue eyes were turned upon bim. He was in bis sbirt-sleeves, witb bis cam»bric frills breaking through bis open i-ed satin long-flapped vest. The scorcbing sun /seemed to bave no power upon bis flesbless frame, foif be wore a low fiir cap, as tbougTi it bad been winter./ A many-coloured band of silk passed across bis bodyiind supported a short murderous sword, wbile his broad; brassybuckled*''^ belt was stuffed witn pistols. yo/i for a poacber ! " be cried, as Copley Banks the bulwarks. "I will drub you witbin your life, and that inch also! What mean ing in my waters ?" CopM' Banks looked at bim, and bis eyes were like tbose of a traveller wbo se.es bis home at last. • "I «tm glad that we àre'of onje mind," sai^ be, "for I am mys^lf of opinion that the seas are uot large enough for thé two of us. But if you will take yoûr sword and pistols and come upon i sand-bank with me, then the world will be rid of. a damned villain Whichever way it goes." ^ . ' <^ " Sink passed ov an inch you by " ^0^ , ty g is talking î " cried Sharkey. jumping off th<î gun aid Jiolding out his hand. "I bave not met i *l r* X I SHABKBV. 75 .nany w^o could look John Sharkey iXe eyes and ^apeak wuh a full breath. May the devil seize me if I do not cboose you as a consort ! But if yon play me felse, then I wiU corne aboard of you and gut^J» ^p„ ' your own poop." " -^ ™ • "And I pledge you the same ! " said Copley Bank, and^ao the two pirates beeame s«orn comrades to each That summer they went north aa far as the Kow- fo,mdIand Banks and hanied the New York traden, and the whale-ship, from J7aw England. It waa Co^ey Banks who captured the Liyerpool ship, ffouse H^,^^rM, rt was Sharkey .vho fastened Z master ofTaftera n,ght action offive hours.the drunkenlravinl orews figbt,„g naked in the light of the ,baHIe.Iante™s° ^..«1 a bueket of rnn. aud a pannikil laid byC ^Wes of every g„n. They .n to T.psaU ^ North Carohua to refit, and then in the sprin. ,hev V mj enj friands^ foy g) ...■]-„■, i-„.,.^ ,,-^-^-1 > .1 '.„. -'r^-' '"''™ " wûole-hearted c ^ vîilain, and he loTed a man of m. him that the two met in the capi it sëéîi^d to ibê Huffiing ,.Jf' 7Q ^ .,;^ .tf. CAPTAIN aHAEKEY. S Uarry. It was long before he gave his confidence to bim, for cold suspicion lay deep in bis cbaracter. Never once would he trust himself outside bis own sbip and away from bis own men. . But Copley Banks came often oii board tbe Ilappij Dclivery, and joined Sharkey in many of bis morose debaucbes, so that at last any lingering misgivings of the latter were set at rest. He kriew notbing of the evil tbat he bad donc to his new boon companion, for of his many victims how could he remember tbe woman and the two boys wbom he had slain with such îevity so long ago ! ^Ç:|ien, therefore, he received a challenge to himself àp|^p[iis quartermaster for a carouse upon tJiQ last ^^^^^0 their stay at the Caicos Bank, he saw no re^son to r^ie. A well-found passenger âhip had been rifled the weék before, so tbeir fare was of the best, and after supper five ôf them drank deeply^together. There were the two captains, Birthmark Sweetlocks, Ned Galloway, and Israël Martin, the old l?uccaneersman. To wait upon them was the dumb steward, whose head Sharkey split with his glass, because he had been too slow'iÊi the fiUing of it. " The quartermaster had slipped Sharkey's pistols away from bim, for it was an old joke with bim to fire them cross-handed under the table, and see who was the Tuckiest man. ît was a pleasantry wbich had cost his boatswain his leg, so ii^w, wben the table was cleared, # i CâPTAm SHABKEV. 77 tbey wouM coax Sha.key's «-«.pons away from him on the excuse of the beat, and lay them ont of bis reach. Ile Captain's cabin of tbe Ruffling Hmry >vas in a deck-house npon tbe poop, and a stem-ch-er «un was mounted at the back of it. Eound sbjfere rackêd rouBd the waU, and three j^at hogsheads of powder made a stand for dishes and for bottles. In this elp,e.3 against a powder ban.1, and they gagled eye stdl looked curies at them. The dumb n,an ehattered m his exultation, and Sharkey winoed for the fet time when he saw the empty mouth before him f ""t'^'»;'* «'«' ^-séance, dow and patient, had dogged him long, and clutched him at last The two captera had their plana ail arranged, and they were 8omewh»»«laborate. First of au âey stove the heada of two of the yn the table and floor. They piled it round and ^ Crrt'T^" "^''' "''"'-'• ^^"''''^^^- lZ> . u "^ '""^ ^^'''^"y '» 'he gun and tt^ey tnoed h.n> aitting over the porthole, with ^s bod^ ^ïWnot mpye an inckeither t^ right or left, anaTEr^ i: ,r '™^^^ "- -P ---^ a aailor'a cu'nni^g^ tUat there waa no chance that he should work free. / k k-l!(îifci'^-^'î:,i ^-^^^' 80 CAPTAIN SHARKEY. " Now, you bloody devil," said Copey Banks, softly, " you must listen to what I hâve to say to you, for they are the last wordjg that you will hear. You are my man now, and I hâve bought you àt a priée, for I hâve given ail that a nian can give hère below, and I hâve given my soûl as ^ell. " To reach you t hâve had to siak to your level. For two years I strove against it, hoping that some other way might corne, tiut I learnt that therei was no other way. l've robbed and I hâve murdered — worse still, I hâve laughed and lEved with you— and ail for the one end. And now my time has come, and you will die as I would hâve yoU die, seeing the shadow creeping slowly upon you and the devil waiting for you in the shadow." dM^ Sharkey dllHf hear the hoa^ae voicea of his rovers singiit theJjr chanty over the water. W /Where is the trader of Stepney Town ? Wa/KB her up ! Shake her up ! Every stick a-bending ! Where is the trader of Stepney Town ? His gold's on the capstan, his blood's on his gown. \ AU for buUy royer Jack, \ Reaching on the weather tack Right across the Lowland Sea." \^ V fhe words came clear to his ear, and just outside he coijld hear two men pacing backwards and forwards the deek; And yet he was helplero, staring^ dowtt= mo(uth of the nipe^poundfer, unable to move an inch , ,'ifâfJLMuiiiLi'J .j^U . \ CAPTAIN SHARKE7. ' g j or to utter so xnuejas a groan. ^gain there 'came tLe bui^t of voices W the deck of the barque. It 8 off on a bowline to Stornoway Bay, Where the liquor is good and the lasses arc gay, Waiting for their buUy Jack, ^ ^^'«tehing for him saiiing back Right across the Lowland Sea." ' tun!" *'. "[•''° "^'^ '^^ ■'°"*' ^"^^ and roffickin. tune made lus own fate seem the haraher, but ther. wa^ no s„fen.„g in lus venomous Mue eyes. Copley BaTk «pnnkled fel. powderover the touch-hole. Then he had taken up the candie and eut it to the len^h o about an „.eh. This he placed „p„n the loose powde. at the breach of th6 gun. Then he scattered powder feu at the ,^00.1 ,t must explode the huge pile in which the three drunkardswere wallowing. •■ YouVe madé others look death L the face, Sharkey '• saidhe;"nowit bas corne tobeyourpwnturn. ï^'u and tese swine hcre shallgo togetl^!" He Ut the candle-end a« he spoke. and MewouFtJe otherligh.^ «pon the table. Then he passed ont with the dumb man and locked the cabin door «pon the outer eide. jntjiefore he ploaed it he toofc » exultant looSîSc^ Jk'^^ wards and received one last curse from those uncon- querable eyea. In the single dim circle of light that / r ..^L,. %- '■«t.. 82 CAPTATN SHATîKÉY; '^ ivory-white face, with the gleam of moisture upon the high, bald forehead, was the last that wa^ ever seen of Sharkey. - -, -n i There was a skiff alongside, and in it Copley Banks and the dumb steward made their way to the beach, and looked back upon the brig riding in the moonlight just ontside the shadow of the -palm trees. They waited and waited, Watching that dim light which shone tàrongh the stem port. And then at last there came the duU thud of a gun, and an instant later the shatter- ing crash of the eicplosion. The long, sleek, black barque, the sWof white sand, and the fringe of nod- ding,feathery palm trees sprang into dazzUng light^nd . back into daxkness again. Voices screamed and called upon tbe bay. ^ Then^ Copley Banks, his heart singmg within him, touched his companion upon the shoulder, and they plunged together into the lonely jungle of the Caicos. ^. I» Si};' yj: THE CRIME OF THE BRIGADIER. I» au the ^reat hosts of fenee there was only ono officer towards whom the English of Wellington's Armv retamod a deep. steady, and unchangeable hatred. . .Tbere were pluader^rs among the French, and men of noknce gamhlers duellists, and roués. AU thèse could be forgiven, for otheis of their kidney were to be found among the zunks of the English. Bnt one officer Maasena's force had comn.itted a crin.e which wa. «^apeakable, nnheard of, abominable; only to b^ ' alluded to w.th c„r«.s late in the evening, when a second bottle had loosened the tongue. of Ln. The news of :t vas «™ed back to England, and countr, gentlemen who knew littl, of the det^ls of the Z grew cnmson with passion when they heard of it and G^ of le K "" ''""" ''^ ^"^'^-' ^"-^ uerara. ol the Hussara of Coaflam m.^^ji_: , tosrin^. deh„n„„i.„ ... , ,*r*"'^' e»?-"*»?. plBBë: W.»,g7debon„aire; the darUn^roTL^^iS^^ 81X brigades of light oavalry. ^ ^ 83 < jf. 04 THE CRIME OF THE BRIGADIER.' But the strange part of it i» that this gallant gentle- man did this hatofiil thing, and made himself the most unpopular man in the Peninsula, without ever knowing that he had done à crime for which there is hardly a name amid ail the resources of our language. He died of oldage,and never once in that imperturbaUe self- confidence which adomed or disfigured his character knew that so many thousand Englishmen would gladly hâve hanged Mm with their own hands. On the con- trary, he numbered this adventnre among those other exploits which he has given to the world, and many a time he chuckled.and hugged himself as he nairated it to the eager chrcle-who gathered round him in that humble café where, between his dinner and his domi- nées, he would tell, amid tears anci laughter, of that inconceivable Napoleonic past when France, like an angel of wrath, rose up, splendid and terrible, before a cowering continent. Let us listen to him as he tells the story in his own way and from his own point of view. You must know, my friends, said he, that it was towards the end of the yeax eighteen hundred and \m that I and Massena and the others pushed Wellington backwards until we had hoped to drive him and his army into the Tagus. But when we were stiU twenty- five miles from Li sbon we found that we were betrayed,^ for what had this Englishman done but build an enormous line of works and forts at a place called 85 THE CRIME OF THE BBKJADIEB. Terres Vedras, so that even we wert unàble to get a^ ur ^f was so far fron. home that we did no dare to „sk a reverse, and we had atoady learned at Busaoo that xt waa np chUd-s play to fight agàinst thèse P*ople. What could we do. then, but sit down ia f„,„t of thèse hnes and blockade them to the beat of our Power ? There we remained for sk months, amid such anx.et.es that Massena said afterwards that L UaT^ one haïr whzch was not white upon his body. For mv but I looked after our horsea, who were in p^at need of rest and green fodder. For the rest, we d«nk the wme of the country and passed the time as best we «.ight There was a lady at Santar«m-but my lips are sealed It is the ^ „f a gaUant man to say nothing though he may in3^ «.at he could .ay a great deal One day Massena sent for me, and I found him iu his tent with a great plan pinned upon the table. He looked at me in silence with that single piercing eye of h.3, and I felt by his expression that the maL was serions. He was nervous and iU at ease, but my bear ingjeemed to reassure him. It is good to be in contact With brave men. "Colonel Etienne Genmi," said he, "I hâve always ^^ that j,ou are__ a very gaUant and ente^risli^ It was not for me to eonfirm such a report, and yet 80 THE CKIME OF THE feRIGADIER.' it would be fuUy ta deny it, so I clinked iny spurs togetlier aud saluted. " You are also an excellent rider," I admitted it. " And the best swordsman in the six brigades of \\g\it cavalry." Masseûa was famous for tbe accuracy of bis infor- mation. " ^^w," said he, " if you will look at tbis plan you wiU bavé no difficulfy in understanding wbat it is tbat I wisb you^to do. Tbese are tbe Unes of Terres Vedras. You will perceiye tbat tbey cover a vast space, and yqu will realke tbat tbe EngUsb can only bold a position hère and tbere. Once tbrougb tbe Unes you bavô twenty-five miles of open country wHcb Ue between tbem and Lisbon. It is very important to me to leam how WelHngton's troops are distributed tbrougbout tbat space, and it is my wisb tbat you sbould go and ascertain." His words turned me cold. " Sir," said I, "it is impossible tbat a colonel of ligbt cavalry sbould condescend to act as a spy." • He laugbed and clapped me on tbè sboulder. " You would not be a Hussar if you were not a hot- bead," saidbe. "If you will listen you will under- stand tbat I bave not asked you to act as a spy. Wbat ==4o you tbink of tbat horsell / Y \jy*. V*il"-»»- "-^ ""-" — - ., — , ._ _.J.,.^ — :7—- He bad coiiducted me to tbe opening of bis tent, and there was a Cbasseur wbo lod up and down a most '0-jàs.%: ^ l. i hot- ^ inder- What THE (DRIME OP THE BRIGADIER. g7 admirable créature. He was a dapple grey, not vejy tall-a little bver fifteen>^ds perhaps-->ut with the ' short^ead and splendid arch of the neck which cornes with the Arab blood. His shoulders and haunehes were 80,muscular, and yet his legs so fine> that it thrilled. me with joy just to gazé'upon him. A fine horse or a^ljeautiful womaa, I cannot look at them unmoved, even now whenseventy winters hâve chillâd my blood. You can think how it was in the year 10. " "This," said Massena. "jg, Voltigeur, the.swiftest horse in oùr^rmy. What I désire is thaï you should start to-night, ride round the lines upon the flank, make ' your way across the enemy's rear, and return upon the other flank,a)ringiDg me news of his dispositions. You • will wew a uniform, and will, therefore; if captured be safe from the death of a spy. It is probable that you ' wiU get through the linek uuQhallenged, for the.posts arô very scattered. Once throijghjn daylight you can ^ride anything which you meet, and if you keep off" ' the roads you may escape entirely unnoticed. If yoU hâve not reported yourself by to-morrow night, I will understand that you are taken, and I Vill offer 'them Colonel Pétrie in exchange." \ Ah, how my heart swelled with pri£ and joy as I spmng into the saddle and gaUoped this^rand horse up and down to show the Marshal the mastery whiehrïr= had of him ! He was magnificent-we were both mag- mâcent, for Massen^ cl^ped his hands and cried eut ifi-'ïl**y t T W^- 88 THE CRIME OP THE BRIGADIER.' - in his deliilit. It was not' I, but ho, who ^d that a gall&nt beast deaerves a gallaut rider. Tben, when for the third ' timq, with . my ganache flying and my dolman streaming behind me,' I^ thundered past him; ,1 saw uppn h^ hard old face thkt he h^i^na^lon^fr ■ any doubt tl^at he had chosen the man for his pnrpose. I drew my sabre, msed the hilt to my lips in sainte, and galloped oh. to jay own quarters. Already the news had spread that t had beeh chosën for a mission, and my little,rascals came swarming ont of their tents to cheer me. Ah ! it brings the tears to rïly ^^eye» when I think how proud they were of fhqir Colonel; And I was proud of them also. They àeseuAd a dashing leader. The night promised to be ^ ster&y one,. which was ' very much to my liking. It was my désire to keep my departure'most secret, for it was évident tKîat if the English heard that I had been detached from the army. they would naturally conclude that something important was about to happen> My horse was taken; therefore, beyond the picket Une, as if for watering, and I folio wed and niounted him there. I had a map, a compass, and a paper of instructions from the Marshal, and with thèse in the bosom of my tunic and my sabre at my side, I set out upon my adventuré. A thin rain was falling and there was no moon, so you may imagine that i^ was not yery cheerful. , But Tliiy heart waa ïigîit at the thought ^f the hontJur which had been^done mQ and the glory which awaited me. •; i-> . v/. I . THE CRIME OF THE BRIGADIER. 89 This exploit sliould be one moref in that brilliànt "séries which was -to change my sabre infco a bâton. Ah, How we dreamôd, we foolish fpUows, young, ahd drunJc with- success! Could P baye foreseen that night as I rôde, the ehosen man of sixty thousand, that; I sh6uïd âpend my life planting cabbages on a h^9d^ed fran^ a month ! ^ ' Oh, my youth, my hopes, my comrades ! But the wheel tums and ne ver 8t^. Yov^^ me, my friends^for an old man has hisVeaRness. My route, then, la^ acrqps the face of the high grouud of ToQ-ea Vedraa, then over a streamlet, past a farmhouse which had been burneddôw^rand was now only a landj: ^ark, then through a forest c^f young cork oaks, anS so to the monastery of San Antonio, jvhich ma?ked the ' left of tho Jlnglish position^ Hère I turned south and ► rode quietly over the doWns, for it was at this point that Massena.. thoug^t that it would be most easy for me to fînd my way unobserved through the position. I wentvery slowly, for it.was so daxk that I could not see my hand in front of me. In such cases I leave my bridlA loose anS let my horse pi(Jt its own way." Voltigeur ^nt confidently forward, and î was vety content t.o sit upon bis back and to peer about. me, , avoiding ever/light. For three hours wô advanced in ' this eautious way, untH it seemedHo me thàt I must have^eft ai l dange t befai nd me. I then pushed on ^ ««,w x^x» a,x x uauge r pem na me. 1 then pushed on mgir^Hskly, for I wished to be In Ihe rear of the ^hole army by.dajrbreak. There are lûanjr vineyards ^ .;it^.: -1 », ^ ■ ■ , " 90 THE CRIME OF THE BRIGADIER. -i in thèse parts wliich in winter become open plains, and (l horseman finds few difficulties in his way. • But Massena had underrated the cunning of thèse Jlnglish, for it appears that there was not one Une of dofence, but three, and it was the third, which was the most formidable, through which I was at that instant passing. As I rode, ekted at my own success, a lantern flashed suddenly before me, and I saw the glint of polished gun-barrels and the gleam of a red coat. •' Who goes there ? " cried a voice— such a voice 1 I swerved to the right and rode like a madman, but a dozen squirts of fire came out of the darkness, and tho buUets whizzed ail round my ears. That was no new Sound to me, my friends,. though I will not talk \i\e a foolish conscript and say that I hâve ever liked it. But at least it had never kept me from thinking cleàrly, and so I knew that there was nothing for it but to gallop hard and try my luck elsewhere. I rode round the English picket, and then, as I heard nothing more of them, I concluded rightly that I had at laat come through their defences. For five miles I rode Bouth, striking a tinder from time to time to look at my pocket compass. And then in an instant— I feel tho pang once more as my memory brings back the moment— my horse, without a sob or stagger, fell stone ""dêad beneuth mef ■-■- — --- ----- ~ - - I had not known it, but one of the buUets from that infernal picket had passed through his body. The THE CRIME OF THE BRIGADIER. 91 gallant créature had never winced nor weakened but had gone whïle Hfe was in him. One instant Iwas secure on the swiftest, most êraceful horse in Massena's army. The next lie ]ay upon his side. worth only the price of his hide, and I Btood there that most helpless, most ungainly of créatures, a dismounted Hussar' ' What could I do with my boots, my spurs. my trailing ^abre? I was far inside the enemy's lines. How could VL hope to get back again ? I am not ashamed to say that I, Etienne Gérard, sat upon my dead horse and sank my face in my hands in my despair. Already the . first streaks were whitening the east. In half an hour it would be light. That I ^ould îiave won my way past every obstacle and then at t^i^iast instant be left at the mercy of my enemie^, my mission ruined, and myself a prisoner-was it not enohgh to break a sdldier's heàrt ? But courage, my friends ! We hâve thèse moments of weakness, the bravest of us ; but I hâve a spirit like a slip of Steel, for the more you bend it the higher it springs. One spasm of despair, and then a brain of ice . and a heart of iire. AJl was not yet lost. I who had come through so many hazards would corne throu^h tbs one also. I rose from my horse and considered what had best be done. =-^^i«t of ail it was cërtamthâttcouldnotget' back. Long before I could pass the lines it would be broad daylight. I must hide myself for the day, and :.ME.- mÊmm 92 THE CBIME OF THE BRIGADIER. then dévote the next niglit to my escape. I took the saddle, holsters, and bridle from poor Voltigeur, and I concealed them among some bushes, so that no one finding him could know that he was^ a French horse. Then, leaving him lying there, I wandered on in search of some place wheré I might be safe for the day. In every direction I could see camp fires upon the sides of the hills, and already figures had begun to move around them. I must hide quickly, or I was lost. But where was I to hide? It waa a vineyard in which I found myself, the pôles of the vines still standing, but the plants gone. There was no cover there. Besides, I should want some food and water before another night had corne. I hurried wildly onwards through the waning darkness, trusting that chance would be my friend. And I was not dis- appointed. Chance is a woman, my friends, and she has her eye always upon a gallant Hussar. Well, then, as I stumbled through the vineyard, some- thing loomed in front of me, and I came upon a great square house with another long, low building upon one side of it. Three roads met there, and it was easy to see that this was the posada, or wine-shop, There was no light in the Windows, and everything was dark and silent, but, of course, I knew that such comfortable quarters were eertainly OGCupiedyand probably by s o m < one of importance. I hâve leamed, however, that the oearer the danger may really be the safer the place, and ■f THE CRIME OP THE BRIGADIER. 93 . so I was, by no means inclined to trust myseïf away from this shelter, The low building was evidently the stable and mto this I crept, for the door was unlatched. The place was full of buUocks and sheep, gathered there, no doubt, to be out of the clutches of marauders. A ladder led to a loft, and up this I climbed, and concealcd myself very snugly among some baies of hay npon the top. This loft had a small open window, and I was able to look down upon the front of the inn and also upon the road. There I crouched and waited to see what woul<^ happen. It was soon évident that I had not been mistaken when I had thought that this might be the quarters of some person of importance. Shortly after daybreak an Enghsh hght drageon arrived with a despatch, and from then onwards the place was in a turmoil, officers con- tmually riding up and away. Always the same name was upon their lips: «Sir Stapleton-Sir Stapleton." It was hard for me to lie there with a diy moustache and watch the great flagons which were brought out by the landlord to thèse English officers. But it amused me to look at their fresh-coloured. clean-shayen, care- less faces, and to wonder what tKey would think if. they knew that so celebrated a person was lying so near to them. And then, as I lay and watched, I saw which filTfld mn vm^U mn^L^ ■-;.-_ -^^ «jj-ou la© li^cn surpnsor It ia incredible the insolence ôf thèse ' English ! What do you suppose Milord W,i|ingto„ had dono LIAb ■'>. • ' ^ 94 THE CRIME OP THE BRIGADIER. when he found that Massena had blockaded him and that he could not move his army ? I might give you many guesses. You might say that he had raged, that he had despaired, that he had brought his troops together and spoken to thëm about glory and the fatheiiand before leading them to one last battle. No, Milord did none of thèse things. But he sent a fleet ship to England to bring him a number of fox-dogs, and he with his officers settled himself down to chase the fox. It is true what I tell you. Behind the Unes of Torres Vedras thèse mad Englishmen made the fox- chase three days in the week. We had heard of it in the camp, and now I was myself to see that it was true. For, along the road which I bave described, there came thèse very dogs, thirty or forty of them, white and brown, each with its tail at the same angle, Uke the bayonets of the Old Guard. My faith, but it was a pretty sight! And behind and amidst them there rode three men with peaked caps and red coats, whom I understood to be the hunters. After them came many horsemen with uniforms of varions kinds, string- ing along the roads in twos and threes, talking together and laughing. They did not seem to be going above a trot, and it appeared to me that it must indeed be a slow fox which they hoped to catch. However, it was their affair, not mine, and soon they had ail passed my window and were out of sight. 1 Waited and I watched, ready for any chance which might offer. / / ,..^A.;-^Lii±ji^iiÈliilà ÏHE crime OF THE BRIGADIER. ô/ Presently an officer, in a blue uniform not unlike that of our flying artillery, came cantering down tlie road-an elderly, stout man lie was, witli grey side- whiskérs. He stopped and began to talk vvitli dn " orderly officer of dragoons, who waited outside tlie inn and it was then that I learned tlie advantage of tlij English which had been tauglit me. I could Lear and understand ail that was said. " Where is the meet ? " said the officer, and I thou^ht that he was hungering for his bifstek. But the other answered him that it was near Altara, so I saw that it was a place of which he spoke. ." You are late, Sir George," said the orderly. ' ■ "Yes, I had a court-martial. Has Sir Stapleton Cotton gone ?" At this moment a window opened, and a handsome young man in a very splendid uniform looked out of it "Halloa,Murrayl" said he. " Thèse cursed^^apers keep me, but I will be at your heels." " Very good, Cotton. I am late already, so I will ride on." " You might order my groom to bring round my horse," said the young gênerai at the window to the orderly below, while the other went on down the road The orderly rode away to some outlying stable, aqd ^n in a fem laiautes there came a smart Englisl^ groom with a cockade in his hat, leading by the Widle a horse-and, oh, my friencïs>you hâve never known jMU^mÉm^ npi 9G THE CRIME OP THB BRIGADIER. tlie. perfection to which a horse can attain until you hâve seen a first-classEnglish liunter. He was superb : tall, broad, strong, and yet as graceful and agile aa a deer. Coal black he was in coloiir, and his neck, and his shoulder, and his quarters, and his fetlocks — how can I describe him ail to yon ? The sun shone upon him as on polished ebony, and he raised his hoofs in a little, playful d^nce so lightly and prettily, while he tossed his mane and whinnied with impatience. N^ver hâve I seen such a mixture of strength and bèauty aild grâce. I had often wondered how the English Hussars had managed to ride over the Chasseurs of the Guards in the afifair at Astorga, but I wondered no longer when I saw the English horses. There was a ring for fastening bridles at the door of the inn, and the groom tied the horse there while he entered the house. In an instant I had seen the chance which Fate had brought to me. Were I in that saddle I should be better ofif than when I started. Even Voltigeur could not compare with this magnificent créature. To think is to act with me. In one instant I was down the ladder and at the door of the stable. The next I was out and the bridle was in my hand. I bounded into the saddle. Somebody, the master or the man, shouted wildly behind me. What cared I for his shouts! I touched the ho rse wit h my sp urs, an d he bounded forward with such a spring that only a rider Hke myself could hâve sat him. I gave him his head !X^ ^.':3iiits>iiTj:iiiifcj;'i. ak; ■■■":tv TBE CRIME OP TUE BRIGADIER. aoross the vineyaixls «„^ 'hundered away p>-d.ne3C:;::;\:7j«--te3i.ad could no loncrer t„ll 7 7 ^ P™"*'^' ^hey «section I t^» : ' T T' ^''^ "°-"^- - whieh of tl.ose camp. ^,^tt TX'''''''' '« '"''ke plan, . «>» his twoear. Lld co Ï InT ^'"^ "'"' ^-^ and q-ùver ,vith i^patiencT ' aT',, f 7™'' ^'^« understand this trick of ï,,-o u . ^^"^"^ ^^^ ^eo.ydM...;t:i:r:;:r^^^^^ ^ -came from somewhere among the „ak wIfT' '"'^" "S- And then suddenlv M, , ^' "'""«''th -»'i and bounded a^n 1- f "^ '""""'«^ fr»"" ^h. ^-y My penoU T ;„! ':" '""""" '" ^ Mother. And then a., T u^JI "^ note-book an e.^t.ao^Wy ^^t LeT:/""" """ ''"^ -"^^. ..àifckïaSiï,» C .<■ < X D8 THE CRIME OF THE BRIGADIER. great yellow and white moving carpet. And behiad them rode the horsemen— my faith, what a sight! Consider every type which a great army could show : some in hunting^ dress, but the most in uniforms ; blue drageons, red drageons, red-trousered hussavs, green riflemen, artillery men, gold-slashed lancers, and most of ail red, red, red, for the infantry officers ride as hard as the cavalry. Such a crowd, some well mounted, some iU, but ail flying along as best they might, the subaltern' as good as the gênerai, jostling and pushing. spurring and driving, with every thought thrown to the winds save that they should hâve the blood of this absurd fox! Truly, they are an extra- ^'brdiaary people, the Ehglish ! But I had little time to w^tch the hunt or to marvel at thèse islanders, for of ail thèse mad créatures the very horse upon which I sat was the maddest. You understand that he was himself a hunter, and that the crying of thèse dogs was to him what the call of a cavalry trumpet in the street yonder would be to me. It thrilled him. It drove him wild. Again and again he bounded into the air, and then, seizing the bit between his teeth, he plunged down the slope and galloped after the dogs. I swore, and tugged, and pulled, but I was powerless. This English General iode his horse with a snaffle only, md the beast had^jL mouth of iron. It was useless to pull him back. One ymight as welltry to keep a Grenadier from a wine THE CRIME OP THE BRIGADIER. 99 bottle I gave it up in despair, and, settling down in tbe saddle, I prepared for the worst which could befall What a créature he was ! Never hâve I felt such a hoi^e between my knees. His great haunches gathered under him with every stride, and he shot forward ever faster and faster. stretched like a greyhound, while the wmd beat in my face and whistled past my ears I was wearing our undress jacket, a uniform simple and dark m îtself-though some figures give distinction to any uniform-and I had taken the précaution to remove the long panache from my busby. The resuit was that amidst the mixture of costumes in the hunt, there was no reason why mine should attract attention, or why thèse men, whose thoughts were ail ^ith the chase should give any heed to me. The idea that a French oflficer might be riding with them was too absurd to enter their minds. I laughed as I rode, for, indeed, amid ail the danger, there was something of comic in the situation. I bave said that. the hunters were veiy unequally mounted, and so, at the end of a few miles, instead of being one body of men, like a charging régiment, they were scattered over a considérable space, the better nders well up to the dogs and the qthers traiUng away behind. Now, I was as good a rider as any, and my Jorse wàs the beat of them ail, and so you ean imaginé" that it was not long before he carried.me to the front. And when I saw the dogs streaming- over the open, g^Ai*^>«i'." " fl. , 100 THE CRIME OP THE BTITGADIER. and the red-coated huntsman behind them, and only seven oreight horsemen between us, then it was that the strangest thing of ail happened, for I, too, went mad — I, Etienne Gérard ! In a moment it came upon me, this spirit of sport, this désire to excel, this hatred of the fox. Accursed animal, should he then defy us ? Vile, robber, his hour was come ! Ah, it is a great feeling, thisfeeling of sport, my friends, this désire 4o trample the fox under the hoofs of your horse. I hâve made the fox-chase wit^ the English. I hâve also, as I may tell you some day, fought the box-fight with ^he Bustier, of Bristol. And I say to you that this sport is a wonderfùl thing— full of interest as well aa i^iadness. The farther we went the faster galloped my hors©, and soon there were but three men as near the dogs as I was. Ail thought of fear of discovery had vanished. My brain throbbed, my blood ran hot— only one thing upon earth seemed worth living for, and that was to over- take this infernal fox. I passed one of the horsemôn— a ïlussar like myself. There were only twô in front of me now: the one in a black coat, the other the blue artilleryman whom I had seen at the inn. His grey whiskers streamed in the wind, but he rode magniacenUy. For a mile or more we kept in this f)rder, and then, as we galloped up a gte.ep slope,.my lighter weight brôught me to the front. I passed them ^tl^and when I reached the crJm I was riding leveT" with the littlç, hard-faced English huntsman". In front \- Vv \^ ^, h ^he >ort is ness. torse, ' 'gs as. \.' Lshed. x^ ^i. - ^ THE CBIMEOP THE BRIgA)IEB. 101 rf us Were Iho d;«a, and then, a hundred pacea beyoid rthem. Vas a brown,„-isp of a tliing, the fox itself s « t„ the utte^^t. The .S^^^u h^d TnJ bl od "Aha„„.e hâve y ou Jhe,r; assassin!" I eried and shauted n.y encouragement to the huutsman ^ l' waved my haud to show him that aen,,wae.oue upon «hom he couM roly. , . '^ ÀMo^w .he,Çwere only the dogs tetweek me and my prey. Thèse dogs, whose duty it is to point.out the game, were no^v jather a hind^nce than a help to' us. forait was hard to fcnow how-to pass them. The huntsman felt the difficulty as much as I, for he rode behmd them, and conld n;«ke no progress towards the fe He was a swift rider, but, wanting in enterprise. For-my part. I-felt that it wouM be unworthy of the Hussars of Conflans if I o^uW not overoome «uch a d.ffio„Ity asjhis. Was Etienne GeraM-to be stopped Lit. y "^-'"'™'^- Igaveashut and spurred my horse. " Hold hard,.sir ! Hold hard ! " eried the huntsman He was uneasy for me, this good old man, but T ~ed him by a wave and^ 3mi,e. Thed^ , opened m front of me. One or two may hâve been h„rT but whatwouidyou hâve I The egg must be brok^ f the omelette. I could héar the huntsman shouting tie dogs were aU behind me. Only the fox was in iZi. ^h, the joy and pride of that moment 1 To know .MW.^ • 102 THE CmMB^0P[THE bIiOADIER, thât I had beaten tho English a,t their own sport. Hère were three hundred ail thirsting for the^life of this animal, and yet ib was I who was about t4tia*|e it, I thought of my comrades of the light c»\tf|^%ift^e; of my mother, of the Eihperor, of ^nS^ l^had brought honour to each and âlL ^^y mA brought me nearer to the fox. ^The mg^^l for action had arrived, so I unaiheathed my sabre. I wa^ed it in the air, and the brave English ail shouted behind me. Only th^fr^did I i^nderstand how difficult is this fox-chage, forUné may eut again and again at the créature and ôever strike him once. He îs* small, and tums quîckly from a blow. At every eu* I heard ^Pose shouts ôf «ncouragement frqm behind me, and they spurrelWe to yet another effort. And then, at laat, the suprême moment of my triumph arrivéd. In the very act of turning I caught him fair with such another back-handed eut as that with which 1 killed the aide-de-camp of the Eriiperor of Russia. IJe flew into two pièces, his hea/d one way and his tail another. riooked back »^>|l^^^ the blpod-staijiçl sabre in Méair. ^^^ <^^®jÉM^^^^^s e Jifd— superb ! . . Ah! how ï s^^^have loved to hâve waited to hâve received the congratulations of thèse gênerons enemies. Thei-e were fifty of . them in sight, and not one who was not waving his hand and shoutiqg. They m not really such a phlegmatic race, the EngRsfi A ^allant deed in war or in sport will ^Iways warm é , if r > yi^- 4 %,.■ ■■■^, u„ / THE CRIME OP THE BRIGADIER. - 10^ their heart.<ï. As to Uio old huntsman, hé was tho nearest to me, and .1 could see, with m^ own' ejeé . how overcome he was by what he had seen. He Vas like a man paplyzed-his mouth open. hia ha,id_^'ith outspread fingers, raised in the air. For a moment my inclination was to return and to em%e him But already tliQ call of duty was sounding inlriy eap, -and thèse English, ii spite of aU tlie fraternity whi^ exists among spOTtsjnen,. would certainly hWe^ade me prisoner. There i was no hope for any missiojfciw and I had donc ail tHàt I could do. I could see thé lines of Massena's .;amp no very great distance «,ff, - for, by a lucky chaînée, the chase had taken us in that direction. I turned from the dead fox, saluted wirn ' . my sabre, and galloped away. But they would nol leave me sô easily, thèse gallant huntsmen. I was. tha fox now, and the chase swept » bravely over the plaii. It wa3 ônly at the moment when I started for Ihe camp that they could hâve known that I was a Frenchman, and now the whole swarm of them were at my heels. r, We were within ^unshot of our picket» before they would hi^t, and then they stood in knUs and would not go away but shouted and waved tlieir hands at me. \ Ko, I wiU - not think that-it wai.in enmity. , lîathér would I fancy th at a glowof | admiratién fil]»d thek breoatg, — and that their one désire was to embrace thestranger who had camed himself so gallantly and weU. ^ \. ■i THE CROXLEY MASTER. / I. Mr. IloiîERT MoxTGOMERY was seated at his desk, his head upou lus hands, in a state of the blackest despon- dency. Before hira waa the open ledger with the long columns of Dr. Oldacre's prescriptions. At his elbow lay the wooden tray with the labels in varions partie tions. the cork box, the lumps of twisted sealing-wax, wliile in front a rank of empty bottles waited to bJ filled. But his spirits were too low for work. He 8at iQ silence, with his fine shoulders bowed and his head upon liis hânds. Outside, through the grimy sui^ery window over a foreground of blackened brick and slate, a Une of enormous chimrieys like Cyclopean pillars upheld the lowering, dun-coloured cloud-bank. For six days in the week they spouted smoke, but to-day the furnace fires were banked, for it was Sunday. Sordid and polluting gloom hung over a district blighted and ^fel^ted brthë greêîW^man. Therelras nothing b the surroundings to cheer a desponding soûl, but it 104 I '.'fcLktJ«S)'<»> •'^ i THE CROXLEY MASTER. - I05 was more than his disraal environment wLich weighed upon the médical assistant. His trouble was deeper and more personal. The wmter session was approaching. He should b.e back again at the University completing the last year which would give him his médical degree; but, alas! he had not the ifioney with which to pay his class fées, nor could he imagine how lie could procure it. Sixty pounds were wanted tô make his career, and it miaht hâve been as many thousands for any chance there seemed to be of his obtaining it. He wa^ roused from his° black méditation by the entrance of Dr. Oldacre himself, a large, clean-shaven respectable man, witli a prim manner and an austère face. He had prospered exceedingly by the support of the local Church interest, and the rule of his life was never by word or action to run a risk of offending the sentiment which had madp him. His standard of respectability and of dignity was exceediogly high, and he expected the same from his assistants. Hi^ appearance and words were always vaguely benevolent. A sudden impulse came ovèr the despondent student He would test the reaUty of this philanthropy. " I beg your pardon. Dr. Oldacre," said he, risin- from liis chair ; " I hâve a great favourto ask of you." " =Jhe dûctor's appeMaaee was not encoïïfagîng. HÎT^ mouth suddenly tightened, and his eyes fell. " Yes, Mr. Montgomery ? " \ '* iv |,aij%ï^<»> ..' . j 106 THE CROXLKY MASTER. "You are aware, sir, that I neecl only one more session to complète my course." "" " So yoii liave told me." " It is very important to me, sir." "Naturally." "The fées, Dr. Oldacre, would amount to about sixty pounds." " I am afraid that my duties c^Line elsewhere, Mr. Montgomery." ;v> -„ "One moment, sir! I had'hoped, sir, that perhaps, if I signed a paper promising y ou interest upon your money, you would advance this sum to me. I will pay you back, sir, I really will. Or, if you like, I will work it off after I am qualified." The doctor's lips had thinned into a narrow line. His eyes were raised again, and sparkled indignantly. "Your request is unreasonable, Mr. Montgomery. I am surprised that you should hâve made it. Con- sider, sir, how many thousands of médical students there are in this country. No doubt there are many of them who hâve a difïiculty in finding their fées. Am I to provide for them ail? Or why should I make an exception in your favour ? I am grieved and disappointed, Mr. Montgomery, that you should hâve put me into the painful position of having to refuse you." Jge t^^ed upon ^his heel, and walked with offended dignity out of the surgery. The student smiled bitterly, and tumed to his work THE CROXLEY MASTER. 107 of making up tlie morning prescriptions. It was poor and unworthy work-work whicli atiy weakling might hâve done as well, and this was a man of exceptional 'nerve and sinew. But, such as it was, it brouglit hiin his board and £1 a week, enough to help him during the summer months and let liim save a few pounds towards lus winter keep. But those elass fées ! Where were they to corne from ? He could not save them out of his scanty wage. Dr. Oldacre would uofc advance them. He^saw no way of earning them. His brains were fairly good, but brains of that quaiity were a drug in the market. He only excelled in his strength; and where was he to fînd a customer for that? But the ways of Fate are strange, and hig customer was at hand. " Look y'ere ! " said a voice at the door. Montgomery looked up, for the voice was a loud and rasping one. A young man stood at the entrance —a stocky, buU-necked young miner, in tweed Sunday clothes and an aggressive necktie. He was a sinister- looking figure, with dark, insolent eyes, and the jaw and throat of a bulldog. " Look y'ere ! " said he again. '« Why hast thou not sent t' medicine oop as thy master ordered ? " Montgomery had ' become accustomed to the brutal frankness of the ^îorthern WorSarT^ît first it had^ — enraged him, but after a time he had grown calions to it, and accepted it as it was mçant." But this was 108 THE CROXLEY MASTER. '**"'^'^ ' ^' someîliing différent. It was insolence — brutal, oyer- bearing insolence, with physical menace behind it. " Wliat name ? " lie asked coldly. " Barton. Happen I may give thee cause to mind tliat name, yoong man. Mak' oop t' .wife's medicine this very moment, look ye, or it will be tlie worse for thee." Montgomery smiled, A pleasant sensé of relief thrilled softly througli him. Wliat blessed safety-valve was this through which his jangled nerves might find some outlet. The provocation was so gross, the insuit so unprovoked, that he could hâve none of those qualms which take the çdge off a man's mettle. He finished sealing the bottle upon which he was occupied, and he addressed it and placçd it carefuUy in the rack. " Look hère ! " said he, tuming round to the miner, " your medicine will be made up in its turn and sent down to you. I don't allow folk in the surgery, Wait outside in the waiting-room, if you wish to wait at ail." " Yoong man," said the miner, " thou's got to mak' t' wife's medicine hère, and now, and quick, while I wait and watch thee, or else happen thou might need some medicine thysel' before ail is over."- "I shouldn't advise you to fasten a quarrel upon me." Montgomery was speaking in the hard, staccato voice of a man who is holding himself in with difficulty. " Yo^'H save trouble if you'll go g uietl y. If you don't- you 11 be hurt. Ah, you would ? Take it, then ! " The blows were almost simultaneous — a savage swing 4^ ...V&.tgi;,: ♦ THE CROXLEY MASTER. 109 which whistled past Montgomery's ear, and a straight drive which took the workman on the cliin. Luck was with the assistant. That single wbizziog uppercut, and the way in which it was delivered, warned him that he had a formidable man to deal with. But if he had uhderrated his antagonist, his antagonist had also Underrated him^and had laid himself open to a fatal blow. The miner's head had corne with a crash against the - corner of the surgery shelves, and he had dropped heavily on to the ground. There he lay with his bandy legs drawn up and his hands thrown abroad, the blood trickling over the surgery tiles. "Had enough?" asked the assistant, breathing fiercely through his nose. But no answer came. The man was insensible. And then the danger of his position came upon Mont- gomery, and he turned as white as his anfagonist. A Sunday, the immaculate Dr. Oldacre with his pious connection, a savage brawl with a patient ; he would irretrievably lose his situation if the facts came out. It was not much of a situation, but he could not get another without a référence, and Oldacre might refuse him one. Without money for his classes, and without a situation— what was to become of him? It was absolut© m in. But perhaps he coTïld escape exposure after ail. He seized his insensible adversary, dragged him out into ' KJ jJ.ifit^'&'JÏ/ -i-JS u^ 110 THE CROXLEY MASTER. ^the centre of the room, loosened his coUar, and squeezed the surgery sponge over his face. He sat up at last ■with a gasp and a scowl. "Domn thee, thou's spoilt my necktie," said he, mopping up the water from his breast. "l'm sorry I.hit you so hard," said Montgomery,, apologetically. "Thou hit me hard! I could stan' such fly-flappiu' ail day. 'Twas this hère press that cracked my pâte for me, and thou art a looky man to be able to boast as thou hast outed me. And now l'd be obliged to thee if thou wilt give me t' wife's medicine.''- Montgomery gladly made it up and handed it to the minei;. " . " You are weak still," said he. " Won't you stay awhile and rest ?" s " T' wife wants her medicine," said the man, .and lurched-Qut at the door. The assistant, lookiog after him, saw him rolling with an uncertain step down the street, until a friend met him, and they walked on atm-in-arm. The man seemed in his rough Northern fashion to bear no grudge, and so Mon^omery's fears left him.' There was no reason why the doctor should know anything about it. He wiped the blood from the floor, put the surgery in order^ and went on with his interrupted task, hoping that he "had corne scàthless oùt 6f a vèry dangetous business.' Yet ail day he was aware of a sensé of vague THE CROXLEY MASTER. 111 uneasiness, which sharpened into dismay when, late'm the afternooD, he wa^ informed that three gentlemen had called and were waiting for hiin in the surgery. A coroner's inquest, a descent of détectives, an invasion of angry relatives— ail sorts of possibilities rose to scare him. With tense nerves and a rigid face lie went to meet his visitors. They were a very singular trio. Each was known to him by sight ; but what on earth the three could be doing together, and, above ail, what they could expcct from him, was a most inexplicable problem. The first was Sorley Wilson, the son of the owner of the Nonpareil Coalpit. He was a young blood of twenty, heir to a fortune, a keen sportsman, and down for the Easter Vacation from Magdalene Collège. He sat now upon the edge of the surgery table, looking in thoughtful silence af Montgomery, and twisting °the ends of his small, black, waxed moustache. The second was Purvis, the publican, owner of the chief beershop, and well known as the local bookmaker. He was a coarse, clean-shaven man, whose fiery face njade a singular contrast with his ivory-white bald head. He had shrewd, light-blue eyes with foxy lashes, and he also leaned forward in silence from his chair, a fat, red hand upon either knee, and stared critically at Jfee young assistante So did the third visitor, Fawcett, the horsebreaker, who leaned back, his long, thin legs, with their box-cloth ■' ^■■*y-j-'-:}*^/''^^'-yr\it;'f' ■'•■■" î^-i^"/ï^*'^V'if^l^ t '■ 112 THE CROXLEY MASTER. 7^ I lu- riding-gaiters, thrust ont in front of him, tapping his protruding teeth with his riding-vvhip, with anxious thought in every line of his rugged, bony face. Publican, exquisrte, and horsebreaker were ail tliree equally silent,' equally earnest, and eqiïàlly critical. Montgomery, seated in the midst of them, looked from one to thé other. "Well, gentlemen?" he observed, but no answer came. The position was embarrassing. " No," said the horsebreaker, at last. "No. It's off. It's nowt." "Stand oop, lad; let's see thee standin'." It was the publican who spoke. Montgomery obeyed. He would learn ail about it, no doubt, if he were patient. He stood up and turned slowly round, os if in front of his tailor. " Ifs off : It's off 1 ^' cried the horsebreaker. " Why, mon, the Master would break him over his kûee." "Oh, that be hanged for a yarn!" said the young Cantab. " You can drop out if you like, Fawcett, but l'il see this thing through, if I Bave to do it alone. I don't hedge a penny. I like the eut of him a great deal better than I liked Ted Barton." " Look at Barton's shoulders, Mr. Wilson." "Lumpiness isn't always strength. Give me nerve and fire and brêêd; THat¥what wîns.''^ "Ay, sir, you hâve it theei:— you hâve it theerl" ■ .■^^Wii THE CROXLEY M ASTER. 113 said the fat, red-faced pubUcan, in a thick, suety voice. " It's the same wi' poops. Get 'em clean-bred an' fine, an' they'll yark the thick 'uns— yark 'em ont o' their skins." " He's ten goôd pund on the light side," growled the horsebreaker. " He's a welter weight, anyhow." " A hundred and thirty." "A hundred and fifty, if he's an ounce." "Well, the Master doesn't scale much more than that." " A hundred and seventy-five." " That was when he was hog-fat and living hi^h. Work the grease ont of him, and I lay there's no great différence between them. Hâve you been wei^hed lately, Mr. Montgoméry ? " It was the first direct question which had been asked him. He had stood in the midst of them, like a horse at a fair, and he was just beginning to wonder M'hether he was more angry or amused. " I am just eleven stone," said he. " I said that he was a welter weight." " But suppose you was trained ?" said the publican. "Wotthen?" " I am always in training." " In a manner of speakin' , no doubt, h e is alwa ys in trainin'," remarked the horsebreaker. "But trainin' for everyday wcrk ain't the same as trainin' with a I rnjVr.iK 1, « J..ii.s.:' . The young Cantal» put bis finira on the assistant's upper arm. Theri with his other hand on his wrist he bent the forearm sharply, and^'felt the biceps, as round and hard as a cricket-balt, t^ring up under his Angers. "Feelthat!" said he. !^^.^t " • The publican and horscîbreaker felt it with an'^air ofrevprence. s - ' , "Goodlad! He'lldoyet!" cried Purvisy^ " Gôntlemen," said Montgomery, " I thiijk that you will acknowlei^: that I hâve been very patient with you. I hâve liâtened to ail that you have-to say about my Personal appearance, and now I must really beg that you will Imve the goodne^s to tell me what is the matter." .. They ail sat down in their serions, business-like yay. "That's easy done, Mr. Mbntgomery," said the fat- voiced publican. " But before sayin' anything, we had to wait and see whether, in a way of speakin', there was any need for us to say any tliing at ail. Mr. Wilson thinks there Is. Mr. Fawcett, who has the same right to his opinion, bein' also a hacker and one o' the committee, thinks the other way." " I thought him too light built, and I think so now," ^aid the horsebrealœj^ill tapping his prominent teetlr= with the métal heafl of his riding-whip. " But happen ■■!»• -XW c\ 7HE CROXLEY MASIEIÎ. y -— - , ,'115 he.m^y pull thAugh; and he's a fine-made, buirdly yoimg chap, so if you mean to back him, Mr Wilson- " "Whichido." " And you, Purvis ? " , f^^ " I ain't one to go bî^ck, Fawcett." " Well, l'il stan' to my âhare of the purse." "And well I knew you would," said Purvis, "for it would be somethiû' new to find Isaac Fawcett as a spoil-sport. Well, then, we make np the hundred for the stake among us, and thè fi^ht stands -.always sup- posin' the young man is williti'." "Excuse ail this rot, Mr: Montgbmery," said' the University^ man, in a génial, yoice. " We've begun at the wrong end, I know, but we'll soon straîghten it out and I hope that you\will see your way to fallin- in with our views. In the first placq,, you remember'the man whom you, knocked out this> momiig? He is Barton— thefamousTedBarton/'^ ' ' " rm sure, sir, you may well be proud to hâve oùted him m one round," said the publidan. :"Why,ittook Morris, the ten-stone-six champion, a deal mora trouble than that before he put Barton to sleep. You't^ ^ a fine performance, sir, and happen you'll do à finôr if you give yburself the%chance." '• " . "I never heard of Ted Barton, Vond seeing the • name on a medicine label;' said the assistant. "Well, you may take it from me that he's a slaughterer," said the horsebreaker. "You've taught sLw&Éà^ ■(■ «C*.:* "'W i^^; IIG THE CROXLEY MASTER. hini a lèsson that ho neetleil, for it was ahvays a Word' aûd, a blow with him, and tho woi-d alone was wol-th ,,fivd shillin' in a public court. Ho won't be so ready , now tft shake his niof in the fiîce of ôvery one he mefets. Howevor, that's-aeither hero nor thôre." Montgomery looked at them in bewildermfent. "For goôdness' sako, gentlemen, tell me what'it is you want m« to do ! " he cried. ^ - "We want you to fight Silas Craggs, better known as the Master of Croxley." "Butwhy?" "Because Ted Barton was to hâve fought him next Saturday. He was the champion of the Wilson coa-1- pits, and the other was the Master of the iron-folk down at the Croxley smelters. We'd matched our man for a purse of a hundred against the Master. But you've queered our man, and he can't face such a battle with a two-inch eut at the back of his head. There's onlv one thing to be done, gir, and that is for you to take his place. If you can lick f ed Barton you may lick the Master of Croxley; but if you don't we're done, for. thereVno one else who is in the same stréet with him în this district. It's twenty rounds, two-ounce gloves, Queensbery rules, and a décision on points if ybu fight to the finish." For a moment the absurdity of the thing drove every ;other though t eut of Montgome^ head. But tbeir thera came a sudden révulsion. A hundred pounds \— ■ '^"isr JH^: THE CROXLEY M ASTER. ' II7 ail lie wanted to complète his éducation was lyino thero,eady to his hdnd, if only thafc hand were stron. enough to pick it up. He had thought bitterly that mornmg that there was no market for his strength but . hère was one where his muscle might earn more in an hour than his brains in a year. But. a eliiU of doubt ~ . came over him. " How can I lïght for the coal-pits ? " said he. " I am not connected with them." " Eh, lad, but thou art ! " cried old Purvis. " We've got it down in writin', and it's clear enough. ' Any one connected with the coal-pits.' Doctor Oldacre is the coal-pit club doctor; thou art his assistant. What more can they want ? '' "Yes, that's right enough," said the Cantabfe would be a veiy sporting thing of you, Mr. Mont^ferj if .you M'ould corne to our help when we are in^,, hole Of course, you might l not like to take W hundred pounds; but I hâve no doubt that, in the case of your winning, we could arrange that it should take the form„of a watch or pièce of plate, orany other shape IT Tf^l "''"'' '''''' '' ^""- ^- «-' y- ^ responsib e for our having lost our champion, so we really feel that we hare a claim upon you." " Give me a moment, gentlemen. It is very im- expected^ I^m^^jie^4«eto.^j^^^^^^^^ to my going~in fact, I am sure that he would not " "But he need never know-not before the fight, at i&îs£. '■f 118 THE CROXLEY MASTEIl. any rate. We are uot bound to give the name ofour man. So long as he is within the weight Hmits on the day of the fight, that is ail that„ concerns any one." ' Tho adventure 4ind the profit would either of them havG attracted Montgomery. The two combined were irrésistible. " Gentlemen," said he, " l'il da it ! " .The three sprang from their seats. The publican had seized his right hand, the horse-dealer his left, and the Cantab slapped him on the baçk. " Good lad 1 good lad ! "' croaked the publican. " Eh, mon, but if thou yark him, Ihou'U rise in one day from being just a common doctor to the best-known mon 'twixt hère and Bradford. Thou art a witherin' tyke, thou art, and no mistake; and if thou beat the Master of Croxley, thou'U find ail the béer thou want for the reat of thy life waiting for thee at the Four Sacks." . " It is the most .sporting thing I ever heard of in my life/' said young Wilson. " By George, sir, if you pull it off, you've got the constituency^in your pocket, if you care to stand. You know the outhouse in my garden ? " " Next the road ? " "Exactly. I tumed it into a gymnasium for Ted Barton. You'll find ail you want there: clubs, punch- ing bail, bars, du^b-be% everyth ing. Then you'lL_ wnt a sparring partner. Ogilvy has been acting for"~ Barton, but we don't think that he is class enough if „&«. ■■Jk THE CIÎOXLEr MASTER. Hy Barton beafs you no grudge. He's a good-hearted fellow, though cross-grained with^rangers. He looked upon you as a stranger this morning, but he says lie knows you now. He is quite ready to spar with you for practice, and he wiU corne at any hour you will name." " " Thank you ; I wilL let you know the honrT^d Montgomery; and so. the committee departed jubilant upon their way. The médical assistant sat for a little time in the surgery turning it over in his mind. He had been trained originally at the University by the man who had been middle-weight champion in his day. It was Irue that his teacher was long past his prime, slow upon his feet and stiff in his joints, but even so he was still a tough antagonist ; but Montgomery had found at kst that he could more than hold his own with him. Ho had won the University medal, and his teacher, who had trained so many students, was emphatic in his opinion that he had never had one who was in the same class with him. He had been exhorted to go in for the Amateur Championships, but he had no, particular am- bition in that direction. Once he had put on the gloves with Hammer Tunstall in a booth at a fair, and had fought three rattling rounds, in which he had ,the ^ter st r etch him- — JgQistQf it^but had^ade tho self t^ the uttermost. There was his whole record, and wasit.enough to encourage him to stand up to the , '.-■i'f.: 120 TDE CROXLEY MASTER. Master of Croxley ? He had never heard of the Master before, but tlien he had lost touch of the ring duriiig the last tew years of hard work. After ail, what did it matter ? If he won, there was the money, which meant so much to him. If he lost, it would only mean a thrashing. He could take punishment without flinch- ing, of that he was certain. If there were only one chance in a hundred of pulUng it off, then it was worth his while to attempt it. Dr. Oldacre, new comp from church, with an osten- tations Prayer-book in hia kid-gloved hand, broke in upon his méditation. " You don't go to service, I observe, Mr. Montgomery," said he, coldly. " No, sir ; I hâve had some business to detain me." "It is very near to my heart that my household should set a good example. There are so few educated people in this district that a great responsibility devolves upon us. If we do not live up to the highest, how can we expect thèse poor workers to do so ? It is a dreadful thing to reflect that the parish takes a great deal more' interest in an approaching glove-fight than in their religious duties." " A glove-fight, sir ? " said Montgomery, guiltily. "I beUeve that to be the correct term. One of my patients teUs me that it is the Mkof the district. JL local ruffian,a patient of ours, by'theway,ig matched ftgamst a pugilist over at Croxley. I cannot under ,/ k , ■■ 'Jl>t.i J"!» - '-i-^^iiT , lAn.îVSiïk^.' J f THE CROXLEY M ASTER. 121 ± stand why the law does not step in and stop so degrading an eKhibition. It is really a prize-fight." "Aglovefight, yousaid." . "i am informed that a two-ounce glove ia an évasion .^ by which they dodge the law, and make it difficult for the police to interfère. They contend for a sum of money. It seems dreadful and almost incredible— doe» it not?— to think that such scènes can be enacted within a few miles of our peaceful home. But you will realize, Mr. Montgomery, that while there are such influences for us to counteract, it is very necessary that we shauld live up to our highest." The doctor's sermon would hâve had more effect if the assistant had not once or twice had occasion to test his îiighest and come upon it at unexpectedly humble élévations. It is always so particularly easy to " com- pound for sins we're most inclined to by damnirig thoso We hâve no mind to." In any case, Montgomery felt that of ail the men concerned in such a fight— pro- moters, hackers, spectators-it is the actual fîghter who holds the strongest and most honourable position. His conscience gave him no concern upon the subject. ^Endurance and courage are virtues, not vices, and brutality is, at least, better thau effeminacy. There was a little tobacco-shop at the corner of the . *^''«"^' ^^^fitgômery got hTsblrd's-eye an^ aiso his local information, for the shopman was a garrulous soûl. ^ who knew everything about the affairs of the district.' i. ."*-£.,,''t.^,kL'4*!f , .m,*'^3$Kl-:< iim^SLL. vl^^ THE GROXLEY lUSTEÎl. The assistant stroUed down there after tea and asl^d, in a casual way, whether the tobacconist had ever heard of the Master of Croxley. / "Heard of him! Heard of Mm!" the Httle man could hardly articulate in his aslonishment. "Why, sir, he's the first mon o' the district,^ an' his namè's as well known in the West Eidiag as the winner o' t' Derby. But Lor', sir "— herç he stopped and rummaged among a heap of papers. "They are makin' a fuss about him on accoui^ è' his fight wi' Ted Barton, and ■ 80 the Croxley Htrald has his lifé an' record, an' hère it is, an' thou canst read it for thysel'." The sheet of the paper which he held up vvas a lakc of print around an islet of illustration. The latter was a coarse wood-cut of a pugilist's head and neck set in a cross-barred jersey. It was a sinister but powerful face, the face of a debauched hero, clean-shaven, strongly eyebrowed, keen-eyed, with a huge, aggressive jaw and an animal dewlap beneath it. The long, obstinate ^ cheeksiran flush up to the nairow, siniSter eyes. The mighty neck came down square from the ears and curved outwards into shoulders, which had lost nothin^ at the hands of the local artist. Above was writteii " Silas Craggs," and beneath, " The Master of Croxley.?' " Thou'll find ail about him. there, sir," said the Jg^ftccopist. •!He's a w ithe rin' - tyke, be^ia^^^dr wc'yo- ; proud to hâve him in the Ms leg he'd hâve been county. . If he hadn't broke champion of ï)ngland." ■ivi?M*^ mmm fWi lake ft^. i "■as a I / '■■ in a .t 1 ^ / THE CROXLEY MASTER. 123 " Broke his leg, has he ? " " Yes, and it set badly. They ca' him owd K behind his bock, for thot is how his two legs look. But his arms— vell, if they was both stropped to a~bench, as the sayin' is, I wonder where the champion of Eugland would be then." " l'il take this .with me," said Montgomery ; and putting the paper into his pocket he returned home. > It was not a cheering record which he read therc The whole history of the Croxley Master was given in fuU, his niany victoriBs, his fôw defeats. "Bornan^l857,"\aid the provincial biographer. "Silas Cràg^s, bet^er/known in sporting circles ^s ïhc Master of Crdik|, i^'now in his fortieth year." " Hang it, l'm only twenty-three," said Montgomery to himself, and read on more cheerfuUy. " Having in his youth shown a surprising aptitude for the game, he fought -his way up among his comrades, until he became the recognized champion of the district and won the proM title which he still holds. Ambitions . of a more than local famé, he secured a patron, and fought. his first fight against Jack Barton, of Birming- ham, in May, 1880, at the old Loiterers' Club. Cragg^'s who fought at ten-stone-two at the tirae, had the bett'Lr pf fifteen rattling rounds, and gained an award on points :^«g8mst^^he^ Midlanderr .ffarring disposed of Jamer~ Dunn, of Eotherhithe, Cameron, of Glasgow, and a youth named Fernie, he was thought so higkly of by 'i •■«W» >ftî.îvi^»b<-i«, . • ' 'iilOi; -, ••»»> r" .i24 THE CROXLEY MASTER. the fancy that.he was matched against lErnest Willox, at thafc tirne middle-weight champion of the Norfch of England, and deffeated him in a hard-fought battle, . knocking him out in the tenth round after a puiiishing contest. At this period it looked as if the. veiy highest •honours of the ring were within the reach of the youn^r „ Yorkshireman, but he wàs laid upon the shelf by a most unfortunate accident. The kick of a' horse broke his thigh, and for a year he was compelled to' rest him- .self. When he returaed to his work the fracture had set badly, and his activity was much impaired. It was^ owing to this that he was defeated in seven rounds by Willox, the man whonj he had previously beaten, and afterwards by James Shaw, of London, though the latter acknowledged that he had found the toughest customer of his career. Undismayed by his reverses, the Master adapted the style of his fighting to his physical dis- " abilities alid resumed his carçer of victory— defeatiug Norton (the black), Bobby Wilson, and Levi Cohen, the latter a heavy-weight. Conceding two stone, he fought a draw with the famous BiUy McQuire, and afterwa^s for a purse of fifty pounds, he defeated Sam Hare àt the* Pélican Club, London. In 1891 ^ décision was given against him upon a foui when fighting a M-inning fight against Jim Taylor, the Australian riûddle-weight, and 80 mortified was he by the décision, tW he witbdrew from theling.- Since then he bas hardly^ _^ save to accommodate any local aspirant whoWy wish ' ight at ail . i'«-4 THE CROXLEY MASTER. 125 to learn the différence between a bar-room scramble , and a scientifio contest. The latest of thèse ambitions soûls cornes from the Wilson coal-pits, which hâve undertaken to put up a stake of £100 and back their local champion. There are varions rumeurs afloat as to who their représentative is to be, the name of Ted Barton beingfreely mentioned; but the betting, which is seven to one on the Master against any untried man, is a fair reflection of the feeling of the community." Montgomery read it over twice, and it left him with a very serions face. No light matter this which he had undertaken; no battle with a rougl^-and-tumble fighter who presumed upon a local réputation. The man's record showed that he was first-class-or nearly so. There were a few points in hisl faveur, ând he must make the most of them, There was âge— twenty-three against forty. There was an old ring proverb that "Youth wiU be served," but the annals of the ring offer a great number of exceptions. A hard vétéran, full of cool valeur and ring-craft, could give ten or fifteen years and a beating to most striplings. He could not rely too much upon his advantage in âge. But then there was the lameness; that must surely count for a great deal. And, lastly, there was the chance that the Master might underrate his opponent, -that h© m^hfc b& remiss in hîs-trainingT^îïd r efuse ta abandon his usual way of life, if he thought that he had an easy task before him. In a man of his âge and Ë&15.--H ^ ■^ 126 THE CROXLEY MASTER. 'è habits this seemed very possible. Montgomery'pj^^yed that jt might be so. Meanwliile, if his opponeot wère the best man who ever jumped the ropes into ^ rina his own duty was clear. He must prépare hiihseS carefully, throw away no' chance, and do the véiy best that he could. But he knew enough to appreciate tho différence which éxists in boxing, as in every sport, between the amateur and the professional The cool- ness, the power of hitting. above aU the capability of takiDg punishment,countfor somuch. * Those speciaUy developed, gutta-percha-like abdominal muscles of the hardened pugiUst will take without flinching a blow which would leave another man writhing on the ground. Such things are not to be acquired in a week, but ail that could be done in a week should be done. The médical assistant had a good bas^ to start from He was 5 feet 11 inches-tall enough for anything on two legs, as the old ring men used to say-Hthë and spare, with the activity of a panthey, and a strèngth which had hardly yet ever foù^ its limitations. His muscular development was finely hard, but his power came rather from that higher nerve-energy which counts for nothing uponameasuringtape. He had the well-curved nose and the widely-opened eye which never yet were seen upon the face' of a craven, and behind eveiything he had the * driving force, which came from the knowledge that his J^iokcareer wm afc steke upon the contest. The-mrir^ hackers rubbed their hands w^en they saw him at work u«->* «fcii «» f • m'O. ^' THE CROXLEY MASTER. 127 punching the bail in the gymuasium next morning ; and Fawcett; the horsebreaker, wlio had written to Leeds to hedge bis bets, sent a wire to cancel the letter, and to lay another fifty at the market price of seven to one. Montgomery's chief difficulty was to find time for his training MÎthout any interférence from the doctor. His work took him a large part of the day, but as the visiting was done on foot, and considérable distances had to be traversed, it was a training in itself. For the rest, he punched the swinging baU and worked with the dumb-bells for an hour every morning and evening, and boxed twice a day with Ted Barton in the gymnasium gammg as much profit as could be got from a rushin-' two-handed slogger. Barton was full of admiration fo" his clevemess and quickness, but doubtful about his strength. Hard hitting was the feature of his own style, and he exacted it from others. . "Lord, sir, that's a turble poor poonch for an eleven- stone man !" he would cry. "Thou wilt hâve to hit harder than that afore t' Master wiU know that thou art theer. Ah, thot's bettei-, mon, thofs fine ! " he would add, as his opponent lifted iiim across the room on the end of a right counter. " Thot's how I likes to feel 'em Happen thou'lt pull through yet." He chuckled with j^jrhen Montgomer^ knoçked him iuto A^^ecffaer.^ , mon, thou art comin' along grand. Thou hast fair yarked me off my legs. Do it again, lad, do it again!" A i«$i^-iy|ï.(i%>-,.^yt « .™- 128 THE CROXLEY MASTER. The only part of Montgomery's training which camo withia the doctor's observation was his diet, and that puzzled him considerably. "You will excuse my remarking, Mr. Mo»tgomery, that you ara becoming rather particular in your tastes. Such fad3 are not to be encouraged in one's youth. Why do you eat toast with every meal ? " " I find that it suits me better than bread, sir." "It entails unnecessary work upon the cook. I observe, also, that you hâve turned against potatoes." " Yes, sir ; I think «hat I am better without them." " And you no longer drink your béer ?" ' % "No, sir." " Thèse causeless whiras and faucies are very much to be deprecated, Mr. Montgomery. Consider Iiow many there are to whom thèse very potatoes and this very béer would be most acceptable." " No doubt, sir. But at présent I prefer to do ■ without them!" They were sitting alone at lunch, and the assistant thought that it would^e a good opportunity of asking leave for the day of th?fight. " I should be glad if you could let me hâve leave for Saturday, Doctor Oldacre." " It is very inconvénient upon so busy a day." " I should do a double day's work on Friday so as JoJeave^^^rytMng m ord<^ç^ JL hop* -to H back in the evening." > THE CROXLET MAsWr. "^ 129 " I am afraid I cannot spare you, Mr. Montgomety " Th.8 was a faoer. Jf he could not get leave he would ço without it, " You will ramember. Doctor Oldacre, that when I came to you it was understood that l should hâve a clear day every month. I hâve ^ever claimod one But now there are reasons wliy I wish to hâve a holi, day upon Satiirday." Doctor Oldacre gave in with a vory bad grâce ' "Of course, if you insist upou your formai ri-^.ts there is no more to be said, Mr. Montgomery, thLgh I feel that it shows a certain indifférence to my comforfc andthewelfareofthepractice. Do you stillinsist ? " ' " ïes, sir." "Verygood. Hâve yoiir way." The doctor was boiling over with anger, bht Mont- gomery wa. a valuaMe aasist,i.t-steady, capable, and hard-workmg-and he could not aiTord to lose him Even if he had been prompted to advance those class fées, for vvhich his asdstant had appealed, it would hâve bsen against his intoests to do so, for he did not wish him to qualify. and ie desired him to remain in his subordmate position, in which he worked so hard for so small a wage. There was something in the cool .ns.stence „f the yonng man, a quiet resolution in ' ^^gj^i^djis jaturday. whioh a.„s«^ "I bave no désire to interfère nnduly with your sfj^k&j.Vfc.j 130 THE CROXLEY MASTER. .„--' affairs, Mr. Montgomery, but were you thinking of having a day in Leeds upon Saturday ? " " No, sir." " In the country ? " ^ "Yes, sir." " You are very wise. You will find a quiet day among the wild flowers a very valuable restorative. Had you thought of any particular direction ? " " I am going over Croxley way." " Well, there is no i^rettier country when once you »are past the iron-works. What could be more delight- ful than to lie upon the Fells, basking in the sunshine, with perhaps some instructive and elevating book as your companion ? I should recommend a.visit to the ruins of St. Bridget's Church, a very interesting relie of the early Norman era. By the way, there is one objection which I see to your going to Croxïey on Saturday. It is upon that date, as I am informed, that that ruffianly glovefight takes place. You may find yourself molested by the blackguards whom it will attract." "I will take my chance of that, sir," said the assistant. % On the Friday night, which was the last before the fight, Montgomery 's three hackers assembled in the gymnasium and inspected their man ashewent through 9Qme light exer dsefh ta keep bis- musuleM aupple. was ceçtainly in splendid condition, his skin shining ,h^~ M> THE CROXLET MASTER. 131 • Thl\^'"''n!" '" «y--* ene,gyand confidence. Ihe three walked round him and exulted _ "HeV sfthpiy rippi„g,., ^^y j^^ u„de,^duate. By gad, youve corne ont of it splendidly. Yoa're as hard S3 a pebble, tad fit to fight for your life " "Happen he'a a trifle ou the fine side," said the " What weight to-day ? " " '^"'^ "'»"« «leven," the assistant answered •■ Tlmt's only three pund off iu a week'a trainin' " smd the'horsebreaker. "He said right when he said that he waa m condition. Well, ifs fine stuff ail them « it, but l'A none so sure as there is enou^h " He kept poking his finger into Montgomery, as if he were one of his horses. " I hear that the Master «ill scale a hundred and si.\-ty odd at the ring side." "But there's some of that which he'd like well to pull o«f and leave behind wi' his shùt," said Purvis I hear theyVe had a rare job to get him to drop his béer and if it had not been for that great red-headed wench 6f his they'd never ha' done, it. She fair scrattBd the face p|r a potman that had brought him a gaUon from f Chèque... They say the hu^y is h.s spamn- partner, as well as his sweetheart) and * ' — ■'-" "" "la Bweemearc and ^ Mi lufl^r w ife^ j ust breaklh' her heart ov^ it The door of the gymnasium had opened.^wntJ ] lad V*f *i-J** ^ M;-. 1 •; '.-^ T' 132 THE CROXLEY MASTER. «v ^ •^ about sixteen, grimy and black with soot and iron, stepped into the yellow glare of the oil-lamp. Ted Bîa*ton seized him by the coUar. "See hère, thou yoong whelp, thig is private, and wo want noan o' thy spyin' ! " . " But I maun speak to Mr. Wilson." The young Cantab stepped forward. " VVell, my lad, what i3 it ? " "It's aboot f'fight, Mr. Wilson, sir. I wanted to tell )'our mon somethin' aboot t' Maister." "We've no time to listen to gossip, my boy. \Vc know ail about the Master." "put thou dôant, sir. Nobody knows^ but me and mQblier, and we thought as we'd like thy mon to know, Mx, for we want him to fair bray him." " Oh, you want the Master fair brayed, do you ? So do we. Well, what hâve you to say ? " " Is this your mbn, sir.? " "Well, suppose itis?" " Then it's him I want to tell aboot it. T' Maister is blind o'. the left eye." " Nonsense ! " " It's tnie, sir. Not stone blind, but rarely fogged. He keeps it secret, but mother knows, and so do I. If thou slip him on the left side he can't cop thee. Thoull find it right as I tell thee. And mark him ^ wlien hesinks his right. 'Tis his best blow, his right upper-cut. T' Maister's finisher, they ca' it ^^^^""'■'Tt*" i.««M.»«».e4K».ii THE CROXLEY MASÏER. 13:î lion, Ted and you? © at V Works. It's a turble blow, when it do corne home." " Thank you, my boy. This is information worth liaving about his siglif," said Wilson. "How came you to know so much ?' Who are you ? " " l'm his son, sir." Wilson whistled. "And who sent you to us ? " " My mother. I maun get back to her again." " Take this half-crown." "No, sir, I don't seek money in comin' hère I doit " ■ " For love ? " suggosted the publican. " For hâte ! " said the boy, and darted .off into the darkness. "Seems to me t' red-headed wench may do him more harm than good, after ail," remarked the publican. 'V^nd now, Mr. Montgomery, sir, you've done enough for this eveniu', an' a nine-hours' sleep Js the best trainin' before a battle. Happen this time to-morrow night you'll be safe back again with your £100 in your pocket." his iÊMu;. 134 THE OllOXLEY MASTER. Hi t I <. II. WOBK was 3trufck at one o'clook at the coal-pits and the m,n-works, and the iight wm amnged for ttee. ^ From the Croriey Fciynaces, from Wikon's CoalJ»*^ from the Hearteease Mine, from thi) Dodd Mills HP' the I^verworth Smeltera the workmen came t«>opin<. each wuh hi, fox-t«mer or his lurcher at hU heek.' Warped with labour and twisted by toil, bent double by week-long work in the cmmped coal gaUeries. or half-bhnded wuh years spent in front of white-hot fluid métal thèse men stiU gUded their harsh and hopeless ^es by their dévotion to sport. It was their one reUef, the only thing which could distract their minds from sordid surroundings, and give them an interest beyond the blackened circle which inclosed them I^ter^ture, art, science, ail thèse things were beyond the,r horizon; but the mce, the football match the cncket the fight, theso we™ things which they <.uld under^taud, which they could speculate upon ifa «avance and comment upon afterwanls. Sometimes |u^^meumet groj^ue. the love^ _ one of the great agencies which make for the happiness A»,. 'O-L'P'y^'^ ri- mmsgm — .--ataVA *fcj -r-^^^,j, ts and three. Il opmg, heels. ouble 3S, or fluid )eless one ainds erest bem. yond the ould in mes stiir less • THE ÇEOXLEY MASTER. I35 of our people. It lies very deeply in the springs of our nature, and ^vhen it lias becu educated out, a higher, more refined nature may be left, but it will not be of that robust British type AvbicU bas left its mark so deeply on the world. Every one of thèse ruddled workers, slouching with ïiis dog at his heels to see something of the fîght, was a true unit of his race. It was a squally May day, with biight sunbursts and driving showers. Montgomery worked ail morning in the surgery gettiug his medicine made up. "The weather seems so very unsettled< Mr. Mont- gomery," remarked the doctor, "that I am inclined to think that you had better postpone your little country excursion until a later date." " I am alfraid that I must go to-day, sir." " I hâve just had an intimation that Mrs. Potter, at the other side of Angleton, wishes to sèe me. It in probable that I shall be.there ail day. It will be extremely inconvénient to leave the house empty so long." . " I am very sorry, sir, but I must go," said .the assistant, doggedly. The doctor saw that it would be useless to aigue, and departed invtho worfet of bad tempers upon hil mission. _ Montg o m e ry foU ar,oia„ .„„,,„ . 1 , . «^WM vj^uiu&ty iBAt eafiier now "mat ne wag — gone. He went up to his room, and packed his runuing-shoes, his fightiDg-drawers, and his cricket- îT: 156 / . - THE CËO^LEY M^ISTEHr sash into a handbag. When /he came dowu Mr Wilson was waiting for him in th|t aurgery. " I Jiear the doctor Las gone." / '' Yes; he is likely to be awày/all day " "I do - - TUE CBOXLEY MASTEB, 137 ior^e. wilh blue-and-wlnte rosettes at fheir eors whieh» were the eoloura „f the Wilson Coal-pits, Z'^^ of aome hundred p.t-men and their ûives gave a heer aa the carriage passed. To the assistant t". eemed dream-like ,and extraoWinary-the stralÏ expenence of hia life, but with a thrillU«maTaed„n He lay back m the open carriage and saw the flutterin. handkerch.efs from the doors and Windows ": mu^ers cottages. .Wilsçn>had pinned à blue-and t^ --"e „pon his-coa, and eve^,.one knewh ra . he..chan,p,on. " GockI luck, sir ! g„od l„ek to' thee . " ■ bey, shouted f„n. the :.adside. He fe.t that Hwaa .JJ^.^.e.nron.aniictnig,.ridingdowntosÏÏ i3ts, but there was something of chivalry in it ail sÏf T ^l'T^' '"' ""'- - -» - for hii- ■ bm def '"^ *"■" "■'"■' "' *'» » «tren^W Ht d ep m h^s sombra soûl he vowed that it shoulY' Lever be for want of heart. Mr Fawcett was jnst mounting into his hi-h «heeled. spider, dogcarfe with his Uttle bit Tf i" be w^n the sl^ifts/'H^waved his whip and fel t ll^^tr'"i"/-l^'.^^-fe_in^^^^^ and then, as they traversed the eeven miles of the H'h-road '0 Croxiey, th.ir two-ho.ed,roaettedolÏ ' 1 ^ "'• »«,.*.... «■ w '.K-' 138 THE CROXLEY ÀIASTEB. becai^e gradually the nucleus of a cornet with à loosely . mdiat|ng tail. From every side-road ..aïne the miners' •carts, Itlie humble, ramshackle traps, black and bulginc. With their loads of noisy, foul-to.gued, open-hearted partisaAs. They trailed for a long quarter of a mile behmdihelri-cracklng, ^vhipping, shouting, gallopin. . swearm^ Horsemen and runners were mhed with tha^^ehiW And then suddenly a squad of the ^ Sheffield .Veomanry, who were having their ançual traming m\ those par^s, clattered and jingled out of ^ field, and iode as an escort to the carriage. Throu-h the dust-ciauds round him Montgomeiy saw L gleammg b^-ass helmets, the bright coat^, and the tossmg heads of the chargera, the delighted brown faces ' ot the trôopers. It was more dream-like than ever. And then, as they approached the monstrous, uncouth Ime of bottle-shaped buildings which marked the sine ting-works of Croxley, their long, writhing snake of dust was headed oif by another but longer one which wound across their path. The main-road into which their own opened was fîlled by^ the rushio.. current of tmps. The Wiison contingent halted until the others should get past. The iron-men cheered and groaned, according to their humour, as they whirled past their antagonist. Eouffh rh^f? fl.«„ u-.i. __. forvrards like iron hi in nuts and splinters of coal. " Brou^ht np ^ben!» "Got t'hea r se for toAtel^j^ back 'Where's t' owd K-legs?" "Mon >xt- mon, hâve thy '■\' ilging. THE OROXLEF MASTER. 139 to look!" "He Gahn k » . ^""^ "'^^ doctorî" "1, \^^, -^«« '^ow't but a half-baked aoctoi ! Happen hQ'll doctor thy Groxlev Ph^r. • afore he's through wi't." ^ Champion So they flashed at eacli othei- p., fi,« -, ' ^ V. a man and a^vdman-she «-ith her »rm 11" waiat Montgoriferv ha,) „„. "■""""' . «ver bis brow a Lt f^ "^ """ """"^ '"^ cowd.c:;i,rirr^'\-'''- ^.rhitr^/---"^^^^^^^^^ . .ave nin a menacing, gap-toothed grin Jt w«â a hard. MdcVpfl fo/,« i,i • , b'^"- it M'as Inn. l . ' blue-jowled and c.agc^ ^:h, ong. obstinate clieeks and inexoiuble eyest Th« K behind was full of patrons of H ^"""^ ^or^men; heads ef det tlen^^^^^^ «P-^-^-W W 1 • 1 . "«parements, mana^era Om^ drmiang f^m a n,etal flaak, and «.i^d ;. t?;"^ goW «3 he paased; and hen trlwd h and the Wilsnn >^ /- -, '^ tlnnned the tear of the otliers. rept -^d ïed away from Croxley. between c. ving 8-en hUJ, ga^hed and poUuted by the searchers f^ /^ i^3'.A..-(.',:AJ 'îjk^tSjjjA^lU.. ?.i' \ ->^ •A) 140 THE CROXLEY MASTER. coal and iron. The wliole country liad been gutted, and vast piles •©£ refuse and mountains of slag suggested the miglity chambeiys which the labour of man had burrowed beneatli. On the left the road curved ud to where a huge building, roofless and ^ism£«fctle(f stood crumbling and forlorn, with the light shining tlirough the windowless squares. - . " That's the old Arrowsmith's factory. That's where the fight is to be," said Wilson. " How are you feeling 'now?" , "Thank you. I was never better in my life," Montgomery answered. " By Gad, I Uke your nerve ! " said Wilson, who was liimsèlf flushed and uneasy. " You'll give us a fight for our money, corne what niay. I^hat place od the right is the office, and that bas beéiï, set aside as thô dressing and weighing-roora." \ . The cajTiàge drove up. to it amidst the $houts of i^^l^po^i the hillside. Lines of empty /carriages ■-'and^fa^ curved down upon the winding ioad, a°nd a black crowfl surged round the door of j^e ^niined factory. Th^ seats, as a huge placard annoiinced, were, five shiilings, three shillings, and a shilling, with , half-^rice far dogs. The takings, deducting expensea, were to go to the winner, and it was already évident ^afc a larger stake than a hundred pounds waa in question. A babel of voices rose from the.dpor. The workers wish^d to bring thèîr dogs in free. The men jm. THE CROXLET MASTER.. 14 j , scuffled. The dogs barked. The crowd was a whirling,, eddying pool surging with a roar iip to the narrow" cleft which was ita only outlet. . . The break,, with its salmon-eoloured streamers and four reeking hôrses, stood empty before the door 6f the office; Wilson Piirvis, Fawcett, and Montgome.ry passed in. r , -- ' Therô was a large, bare room inside with square clean patçhes upori the grimy walls, where pictures ^nd almanacs had once hung. Worn linoléum covered the floor, but there was no furniture save some benches and a deal table with a bwer and a basin upôn it. T^Vo of the corners were curtained pff. In the middle of the room was a M^eighing-chair. A hugely fat man, with a salmon tie and a blue waistcoat with birds'-eye spots, came bustling up to them. It was .ermitage, the butcherand grazier, well known for miles round as a warm man, and the most libéral patron of sport in the lîiding. "Well, well," he grunted, in a thick, fussy, wheezy voice. " you hâve come, theif. Got your man ? Got your man ?" "Hère he is, fit and well. Mr. Montgomery, let me présent you to Mr. Armitage." * " ^]^ to meet you,' sir. Happy to make your acquaintancer-^-Tnake-Bdldto sày, siir, that we of Croxley admire your courage, Mr. Montgomery, ând that our only hope is a fair fight and no faveur tiO.^ .■.-;,A.*?j:-*. 142 THE CROXLEY MASTER. man win. That's bur sentiment at and the best Croxley.'' " Anà it is my sentiment also,"- said the assistant. ."Well, you càn't say fairer than that, Mr. Mont- gomery. You've taken a large contrac' in hand, but a large contrac' may be carried through, sir, as a'ny one that knows my dealings could testify. The Master is ready to weigh in ! " "SoamI." " You must weigh in tiie buff." Montgomery looked askance at the tall, red- . headed woman who was standing gaziog out ôf the window. "That's àU right," said Wilson. "Get behind the ciurtain and put on your fighting-kit." He did so, and came out the picture of an athlète, in white, loose drawers, canvas shoes, and the sash of a well-known cricket club round his waist. He was trained to a hair, his skin gleaming like silk, and every muscle rippling down his broad shoulders and along his beautiful arms as he moved them. They bunched into ivory knobs, or slid into long, sinuous curves, as he raised or lowered his hands. "What thinkest thou o' that?" asked Ted Barton, his second, of the woman in the window. She glance d co ntemptuousl y at the young athlète. " It's but a poor kindness thou dost him to put a thread-paper yoong gentleman like yon against a mon M*. •i- •.">■] - f^^^*^ tbe , THE CROXLEY MASTER. .143 " as is a mon. Why, my Jock would throttle hiin wi'- one hond lashed behind him." "Happen h^ may-happen not," said fearton "I hâve but twa pund in the world, but it's on him everv penny, and no hedgin'. But here's t' Maister, and rarely fine he do look." The prize-fighter had come out from his curtain a squat, formidable figure, monstrous in chest and arms limpmg slightly on his distorted leg. His skin had none of the freshness and clearness of Montgomeiy's but was dusky and mottled, with one huge mole amid the mat of tangled blaçk Bair which thatched his mighty breast. His weight bore no relation to his strength. for those huge shoulders and great arms, with brown, sledge-hammer fists, would hâve fitted the heaviest man that ever threw his cap into a ring But his loins and legs were sligbt in proportion. Mon! gomery, on the other hand, was as symmetricd as a Greek statue. It would be an encounter between a ^ man who was specially fitted for one sport, and one who was equally capable of any. The two looked cunously at. each other : a bulldog, and a high-bred clean-Umbed tenier, each f ull of spirit. " How do you do ? " ^ ' "How do?" The Master grinned agai«, and hi, J bKems edJrmt te^-glmm& t m m t i Btant ïhe rest had been beaten out of him in twepty years of batUe. He spat npon tbe floor. •■ We hâve a kve fine day fort " i-'i'- 144 THE OROXLEY MASTER. " Capital," said Montgomery. " Thaf s the good feelia' I like,"" wheezed tho fat butcher. "Good lads, both of them!-prime ladsl^ hard méat an' good bone. There's no iU-feelin'." "If he downg me, Gawd bless him!" said tho Master. " An' if we down him, Gawd help him ! " interruptcd the woman, , "Haiid thy tongue, wench ! " said the Master. im- patiently. MVlio art ahou to put in thy word ? Happen I might draw my hand across thy face." The woman did not take tho threat amiss.' ^' Wilt hâve enoiigh for thy hand to do, Jock " said she. "Get quit o' th|^, gradely man afore thou turn on me." ,^ ,^.:-- ; ;f ■ - The levers' quaçr||;waî^ïnterrupted by tho^entrance of a newcomer, as^gi^ân with a fur-collared over- coat and a very^^^^^Au^^^ ^,^.^^^ ^^ ^ degree of glossiness which^,|eldom seen five miles from Hyde Park. This hat he wore at the extrême back of his head, so that the lower surface of the brim made a kind of frame for his high, bald forehead, his keen eyes. his rugged and yet kindly face. He bustled in with the quiet air of possession with which the rmg-master enters the circus. " It's Mr. Stapleton, the référée from London," said " Hovr'do you do, Mr. Stapleton ? I was introduced^- ,''^t< ,•■>.' ', .Sf^F TftE OROXLËY MASTBft. I45 to you at the big fight at the Corinthian^kb in Piccadilly." -" ^,X^ "Ah. I dare say." said the other, shrflcing haiÉs. "Fact is, rm introduced to so many that I can't under- take to carry their names. Wilson, is it ? Well, Mr 3^ilson, glad to^ see you. Couldn't get a fly at the 'tion, and that's why l'm late.'|< ^ "Vm sure, sir," said Armit^, " we should be proud that any one so well known in the boxing world should corne down to our Uttle exhibition." " Not at ail. Not at ail. Any thing in the interests ofboxin'. AUready? Menweighed?" "Weighingnow, sir." " Ah, just^as well I should see it done. Seen you before, Okggs. Saw you fight your second battle against Willox. You had beaten him once, but he came back on you. What does the indicator say ?-one hundred and sixty-to| pounds-two off for the kit-one ' hundred an^^ty-one. Now, my lad, you jump. My goodness, wbat Qolours are you Sî-earing ?" " The Aatnymi Cricket Club." " What ti^t hâve you to wear them ? the club myself."', "Sodol." " Vou an amateur ? " "Xes^jsk." I belong to 4 ~T lii» " Anf you are fighting for a money prize ? " " Yes." ■ 146 THE CROXLEY MASTER. =1^ f "I suppose you know what you aredoing? You realize that you're a professional pug from this onwards, and that if e ver you fight agaia " " ni never fight again." "Happen you won't," sald the woman, and the Master turned a terrible eye upon her. - " Well, I suppose you know your own business best VV you jump.- One liundred and fifty-one, minus two ono hundred and forty-hine-twelve pounds différence,' but youth and condition on the other scale. Well thé soonor wo get to work the better, for^T wish to c'atch tho seven o'clock express at HelUfield. ïwenty three- minute rounds, with one minute intervais, and Quèens- borry rulos. Those are the conditions, are the^p not ? " V "Yos, sir." " Vcry good, tlien, wo may go across." * The two combatants had overcoats thrown over their shûulders, and the whole party, hackers, fighters, seconds, and tlio référée, filed ont of the room. A police in- ipectoî* was waiting for them in the road. He had a notebook in his hand-that terrible weapon which awos oven the London ^abman. "1 must take your ^ames, gentlemen, in case it should bo necessary to proceed for breach of peace." ^ " You don't mean to stop the fight ? " cried Armitage m a passion of indignation. " l'm Mr. Armita-e of Croxley, andj hi s is yr.Wiba^agd^il beresponsiblë— that ail is fair and as it should be." « lir tbe THfî CROXLEY MASTER. 147 "l'il take tlie names in cas^M . . And half pushed, half carried, he was swept up to the ring. There were two chairs by the side of it one for hiqi and one for the timekeeper. Hé sat dowp . his hands ott Ma knées, his TiatTatï more ^deriiilano^ than ever, impassive but solemn, with the aspect of one who appréciâtes bis responsibilities. îp% jf". .^f kn 151 # \ THE CROXLEY MASTER. Mr. Amitage, the poftly butcher, raaâe his way into tbe ring and held up two fat hands, sparkUng with rings, as a signal for silence, " Gentlemen ! " he yelled. And tliejfin a crescendo shriek, " Gentlemen ! " ^ "And ladies î " criSS somebody, for indeed there was , a fair sprinkling of women among the crowd. ." Speak up, ovvd man ! " shouted another. " What price pork chops?" cried somebody at the back. Everybody laughed, and the dogs began to bark. Armitage waved his hands amidst the uproar as if he were condiictin- an , orchestra. At last the babel thinned into silence. ° "Gentlemen," lie yelled,' "tbe match is between SUas Craggs, ^hom we call the Master'of Croxley, and lîobert, Montgomery, of the Wilson Coal-pits. ' The match was to be under eleven-eight. ' When they ^^ere weighed just now^aggs weighed eleven seven aifd Montgomery ten ^. The conditions of the contest are-the best of twenty three-minute rounds with two- " ounce gloves. ShoiÛd the fi^ht run to its full length ' ^^Ul, of course, b^decided uptn points. Mr Staple- ton, the well||^wn I^ondon r^|je,has kindly con- sented. to see fair play. I M to sa#hlt Mr Wilson and I, thq chief backers ôf thMro men, hav every confidence in Mr. Stapletbn, anrthat we be^ Lt ha tyoïi will accep fe ki a rulia g a w ith ourdisputê He then turned from one combatant to the jother, with a wave of hjg bapd, j[ ■«»#<' AlMÀJ^lbi.,: ..iS»": V 1 Ir^ifomoMEiiY-Craggsî-sàidhe. ,. A great hush fell o™, the huge assembjy. Even the . dogs stopj^d yappte; one migH hâve Lught't • They advaVd fom iheir oon,ers and shook hands^ • Mntgo™erygraveIy..^raggswi,hasmile. Then they feu mto position. The crowd gave a lo,=g sigh-.hl «^ke of-a- thousand excitëd b.aths. îhe .fere critical from the one to the other. • It was strepgth against activity-that was évident ' fromthefct. The Master stood «olidly npon his .„,?,; 1 ^'"'' '"''" ' "•^"'^■«'«"^ Pedestal; on,. «Id hardjy_™a8ine his being knocked down. And ...i*. he could pivot round .««Jt with extraordinary quick-f *'* "«treat waâ (ingainly. J^is ;h larger and broader than his brown, massive %ce looked ■ift. I, ness; but hîs adi frame, however, that of the studéi party saak wichin H^hatthe^hêartrbf tfië Wîfson jthere wa$ one heart, however, |ljr;;;~~ "^ ; I g ^ TPE CROXLEY MASTEB. ' 15g ^^J.adnoe,one^. Itw..,at„f, Robert Mont- . ^^y iiervousncss which he inav hivn 1.0.1 1 es 10 Deat, with a career as the pri™ nf h„..- ' .h,., 1, .,• *'*"'"', '""1 >("* Joy of action; it (irilled through&s «erves. He faced his man wi h littl" " - -o«t step,. b..eaH„g to the left, toeaking to ù UT ext^nded his nght sunk low across the mU Mont 57rj?aeh"t^rtrr--:i: Ma.e-adh.eo.te.^ara„r;l:^^^^^^^^^^^^ back from a barder Wow than ha had givel aILI ^e^.ar.^veashrmer,ofe„ooJage™ent,a3Te: and^n an „.tant the two we.. i„ eaeh other's arma. , Br^akaway. Break away !" .aid the ref«ee. The Master struck up.ards on the b,.ak, and sho-Ac Mongon,ery with the blow. Tben it was "timt" • '*! «"0 ««n,«»t and applause. Mont'.omerv was qujte fresb,>But the hairy chest nf ih.iii . ' a.uliàU.w£„. .™_^_"''''^li''« Mate was rising '"^'^«S$'»'=è"™'' ">* crowd, ,„d cheered her. •SA" ' m ,^,çjiii}'f' 154 THE OROXLEY MA8TER. ' • The raen were up again, the Master grimly watchful Montgomety as alert as a kitten. The Master tried a sudden rush, squattering along with Lis awkward gait but coming faste than one would tbink. The student sli^ped aside and avoided him. The Master stopped grinned, and shook his head. Then he motioned with liis hand as an invitation to Montgomery to corne to him. The student did so and led with his left, but got a swinging rigbt cçunter in the ribs in exchange The heavy blow staggored him, and the Master came scrambHng in to complète his advantage ; but Mpntgo- mery, with hi^ greater activity, kept out of danger until the call of " time." A tame round, dlnd the advantage vrith. the Master. . " T' Maister's too strong for him," said a smelter to his neighbôur. ^^ "Ay; but t'other's a likely lad. Happen we'll see some sport yet. \jle can joomp rarely." " " But t' Maister can stop and hit rarely. Happen Jie'll mak' him joonip when he gets his nief upon him." . ^ They were up agaiû, the water glistening upon their faces. IVfbntgomery led .instantly and got , hfe right home with a sounding smack upon the Masfefs fore- head. There waè a shout^from the colliers, and "Silence! Order!" from the Weree. ^ontgomeiy -avôiderTlïe counter and scored with his left. ^Fresh applause, and the référée upon his feèt Jn indignation. . i. JfH, V THE CnoXLEY MASTER. , 155 ^N^con..ents, gentlemen, if y.^ pl,ase ; duriog the ' ' J«st bide a bit ! " growled the Master ' " Don't talk-fight ! " said the référée, angrily Montgomexy rubbed in the poiat by a flush hiVupon he mouth, and the Master shambled back to bis corner likeanangrybear,havinghadan the worst of the round Wheres thot seven to one?" shouteJ l'urvis the publican. . " m take six to one ! " There were no answers. i ••Fivetoo.e!" Tbor. wel givers at that Purvis booked tliem in a tattered notebodfgfe Montgomery begaï to feel h^>^ „e i,y ^ack / «.h h,s legs outst,.tched, his back against th. corne- ■ post. and one gloved hand npon eaeh rope. What a dehe.ons minntp it ,va8 between eaeh ronnd. If be ' couH „n,y keep ont of bar., .ay, be n,„3t snrety wear th.s n,an ont befo.^ tj,e end of twenty ronnds • ^Yonre fightm' a winnin' fight-a ^rinnin' ligbt " Ted Bartton wbispered in his ear" 'Tn „. ,, r =" 'u IU3 ear. Oo canny; tak no cbanees ; you bave him proper." Bnt the Maxtor was erafty. He bad fonght so many baUIes .ub his n.ain,ed lin^b tbat he knew hoTl ^ . ward untn he had imperceptibly backed bim f„to !" corner^ Th^studant suddenly saw a flash of triun, - A \ . [^ "-?■-. "■■'^^^^':': m I»* 'H: "% *i5e THE CROXLEY MASTER. «pon the grim face, and a gleam in the dull, ,malic.nant ZZ2' y^' "" "^^^ ^^°^- ir« «Prk^side ^|$|PPP%i thg ropes. The Master smaslied ÎT one of lus terrible upper-cuts, and Montgoig^ery half broke it with his guàrd. The student sprang ta other way and Avas against the other converging rope. He was tmpped m the angle. The Master sent in another, with a hog- gish grunt which spoke of the energy behfe^d it. Mont- gomery ducked, but got a jab from the left upon the mark. He closed with hiàv m|n. "Break away » Bi^ak away!" cried t^eferee. Mo%omery disent gaged, and got a swinging blow on the ej||s he did se It had been a damaging round for hini, anîkp Croxîey people wei^ shouting their delight. Jt^ " Gentlemen, I will noi %ye this noise ! " Stapgkn welï- toared. " thave been accustomed to préside at a w«u- conducted cliib, and not at a bear-garden." This little man, with the tilted hat and the bulging, forehead, dom^iated' the^hole assembly. He was like a head- mas^ aijpng his %s. ^^Wed round him, and nobo^^^red to meefhi^^e. ^M^^asîa had kissed the Master when he resume(| J,is «t.| " Good lags. Do'fc again ! " cried the laurrhiÉ^^ pwd; and the angiy Master shook his glove at l^r a^ Bhe flapped her towel in front of him. Montgoméry was weary and a little sore, but not depressed. He ^ d l e mn e d a omethin g. ^fe^w o uld not-again b e^ tempted into danger. I '#. ' JS'*^-^" V V" ^.' ^m$f>'^r^'^' *^s«e' ç-^ lignant ? aside 'one of roke it ay and rapped a hog- Mont- m th6 away ! "^ disen- * lid so. :oxley rr r, as nery He THE CBOXLEY MASTEH. 157 Kor three roundà tl.e l,«no.,rs were fairly em.al - The st„de„fs Mtting ,va. tho quioke. the Maate^s he IW-elf ia the open, and .f„3ed to he herded in^a way, or olosed and theq„disengaged. The monoto'ous Break away . Br.ak away ! " „f the .«fereo brokëL upon ,he quick, low patter of rubber-soled shoeTth! The ninth round found both of them in fairly good r"; ""• ,M-'8--/3 head was stàl singing £ ha b ow that he had in the corner, and one of h" JuMb.pa.ned hin. acutely and seemed to be dis.ocateÏ The Master showed no sign of a touch. bnt bis breath u.g waa the more laboured. and a Ion. line of iet good show «f points lil^ne of this iron-man's blows 7 7'" '"-^ of «; he knew that with „t I g oves he eould not hâve stood for three rounds Z^ lum. AU the amateur work that he had done wL the It was the tenth rûun<] a nd tliQ-figktw t tij Itûlf over. -TEe bettxng now was only tuZ^TZ^C^^^, champton had held his own mucL be.tor ,han C he ■Wr i<.' ''"i^^r ,ér'/^iv ■ 158 THE CROXLEY MASTER. been expected. But those who knew the ringcmft as well as the staying power of the old prize-fighter knew that the odds were still a long way in his faveur " Ilave a care of him ! " whispered Barton, as he sent his man up to the seratch. " Hâve a care ! He'U plav^ thee a trick, if he can." But Montgomery saw, or imagined he saw, that his antagonist was tiring. He looked jaded and listless, and his hands drooped a little from their position His ' own youth and condition were beginning to tell He sprang in and brought off a fine left-handed lead. The Masters return lacked his usual fire. Again Mont- gomery led, and again he got home. Then he tried his ' rîght upon the mark, and the Master guarded it down- wards. "Toolow! Toolowl A foui! A foui ! " yeUed a ^ thousand voices, -^ Tho référée roUed his sardoDic eyes slowly round ' ' Seems to me this buildin' 13 chock-fuU of référées" said he. The people laughed and applauded, but their faveur was as immaterial to him as their anger. "No applause, please! This is not a théâtre ! " he yelled. Montgomery was very pleased with hims*elf. His adversarywasevidentlyinabadway. He was piUn. inhis^oints an d e stnblisbing a^ead. H« mighrw— weU make hay whilo the, sua shone. The Master was ] 1 J. f a re P€ crailt as r knew lie sent •u vW, tiat his istless, . His I. He The Mont- ed his ^own- Ued a ound. rees," ivour "he His iling ^^ it as was THE CROXLÉY MASTEB. 159 looking ail abroad. Montgomery popped one upon his blue jowl and got away uithout a return. And then the Master suddcnl^ dropped both his liands and be^an rubbinghisthigl. Ah!thatwasit,wasit? He had muscular cramp.Q . "Goinl G!tr.inV'criedTeddyBarton- Montgomery sprang wildly forvrard, and the next instant was lying half senseless, with his neck nearly broken, in the iniddle of the ring. " The whole round had been° a long çonspiracy to tempt him within reach of one of those terrible ri^ht- hand npper-cuts for which ^he Master was fam^is in he thigh. When Montgomery had sprang in so hotly he had exposed himself to snch a blow as neither flesh n,r ,iood could stand. Whizzing np from below -ith a ngid arm, whieh put the Master's eleven stone n to ite force, it struck him under tl^ jaw : he whirled half round, and fell a helpless ancf half-pan.lyzed mass A vague groan and m^rmur, inarticulate, too excited for words, rose from the great audience. With open^- mouths and staring eyes theygazed at the twitchin. and quivering figure. ° ' "Stand back! Stand right back!" shrieked the référée for the Master was standing over his man ready to give hini the co j^^^^^,^ j^^^^ 4, ■-T' peated. back, Craggs, this instant!" Stapleton re- IGO THE CROXLEt-.MASTER. r' The Master sank Lis hands suJJcily and walked back- wards to tlie rop5 wkh liis ferocious eyes fixed iipon Lis falleii antagonist. The timékeeper called the seconds. If ten of them passed before Montgomery rose to his- foat, the fight was ended. Ted Bartou wrung his hands and danced about in an agony in his corjper. ^s if i;i a dream— a terrible nightinare,— Ihe student could hear the voice df the tioiekèeper-^three— four— five— hè got up^ on hîs hand— six— seven— he was on, his knee, sick, swimming, faint, but, resolute to rise. Eight— he was up, and^h^ Master was on him Uke a tigor, lashing savagely at hlm Vi|h both hatids. Folk huld their breath as they watçhed thpse teitible 4)lo)|rs, and anticipated the pitiful end— sojnuck more~pitiful where a game but helpless inan^i^gMes- to accept; ¥»'■ -^ r ■ . '.•%<.... -- ;Strangeîy automatic is thô human 't)ràiti?'''without volition, witlfout effort, thero sbot into'the meniary of^ tlrfs bcwildered, staggering, half-stupeàed man the one thing whicU could havô sa,xed hiœ— tliat blind èye of whicli the Mastç^f's son had spoken.^ It was t&e g^me^ as the othpr to loQk at, but Montgomeiy-rôi^etal^ered ^ that he hifÛ said that i" t Vas the left. H^feeled to tlie left side; half felled^by a'(lr|ve whicH 'fit upon his slfoulder. The Master pivoted roui^d upon his îeg" ftnd ■*!?.• , f " Ya^ him, lai^^ ^^ark him ! '< screamed Uié woriiail.. y " lIoUl yçmr iyj^vh ! '^ said, th€ référée. . ..^ , , ^ . • V * m ■ '■ « >■ «» •.♦ fmm^gmm ■é^ ^^ fit THE CROXLEY MASTËU. 161 Montgomery slipped to the left again and yet again ; but the Master was too quick and clever for liim. He struck round and got him fuU on the face as he tried once more to break avvay. Montgomery 's knees weakened under him, and he fell with a groau on the floor. This time he kuow that he was done. Wi^h bitter agony he' realized, as he groped blindly with his hands, tl;at he could not possibly raise lùmself. l'ar away and muffled he heard, amid the murmurs of thft multitude, the fateful voice of the timokooiHjr cou\iting off thé seconds. -»" ' - ■ - -i ■■■v " One— two—three— four — five— six- " Timô ! " said the référée. T]ien the peut-np passion of the'great assemiay \nvko looge. Croxley gave a deep groau ^i ^UsaptUviutment. TheWilsons were on theiv fwt. \x\lUug \Nith delight. There was still a t'havu tVvv them. Tn four wwte seconda thoiv uuuiVoiiivl hrt\e bwu aolemuly c(Juntq^ bu^ lUit uow he had a uUviute lu which to i^cover. Thl^ ivferee bHvKua wmy^ with '«•elaxed features and laughiug eym. \lo lovod |||ia ixnigU g^Uio, t^s school for huvuUUv Ueroea. uuU it \v§à pleasant U» hinito inter- vene as a /Vw,v i^.v mcb^inÀ rtt so OramUio /» boment. jHis'ç^air ané ïm \^l were^l)# tiUud at aa!èxt|;eme ann^'; he and tho tim^k^^l jsutilld at,|ach other. BCv\)ad--bA4 v'^\ ) d out a nd ,*' 4. ^. ^'^pthrusj an rtituMeâch ui^ev \i(%t|^mvi\vv* knee. the • ' « '* Other behi|id'1iitf loiu% audjv» ym^k^ him back to hia ■«% M '»> » .niin»>ai.i.^.iriiaalt< THE CÊOXLEY MASTEB. 163 nng-craft. He coaxed the student up by pretended mactivity; he ruslied at him with furious ruches - towards the ropes. For three rounds he exhaustetT.*^ • everywileintrymgtogetathini. Mont^moTjdimng , ail this time M^as conscious tliafc his streDgt^i^'i^ minute ^ l'y minute coming back to him. Th^e spinal jar from an upper-cut is overwhelming, but cvanescent. He . was losing ail sensé of it beyond a great stiffness*of the neck. For the first round after his downfall he had been content to be entirely on the defenSfve, only too happy if he could stall off the furious attac'ks of the Màster. In the second he oecasionalîy ventured ufkm a light counter. In the third he was smackin^. bacfe me,rily where he saw an opening. His people ' yelled their approval of him at the end of every round ' Even the iron-workers cheered him with that fine un- selfisliq^ss which true sport engenders/ To most of them, Unspiritual and unima^inative, the sight of this ^ • , . ■ clean-hmbed young Ap.Uo, rising above disaster and holding, on Mhile consciousness was in him to his appointe.l^task, was the greatest thiug their expérience had ever known. '' • ' But Ihe Jfoter's natufally morose temper became more a«a »oro murJcrou, at this postponement of his- l^opes. T(poe rounds agfe the battle ,had been in bis lumds; now it w,, nll to do o>oi a{.Hiu. XtôUnd by round h« man was recovering his sti^ngth. By the fifteenth he ms strong again in wied and limU But ,j'.»*^A ■. *!1~ ■'^ ■; 164 THE CROXLEY MASTER. w ' the vigilant Anastasia saw something vvhicli encouraged her. "That bash in t' ribs is teliiiig on him, Jock," she whispered.. " Why else should lie be gulping t' brandy ? Go in, lad, and thon hast hini yet." . Montgomery had suddenly faken the flask from Barton's hand,-and had a deep pull at the contents. Then, with his face a little flushed, and with a curions look of purpose, which made the référée stare hard at him, in his eyes, he rose foi- the sixteenth round. /"Game as a pairtridge ! " cried the publican, as he looked at the hard-set face. " Uh it oop, lad ; inbc it oop : "cried the iron-men to their Master. . _. ^ And theri a hum of exultation ran through their /Tanks as they realized that their tougher, barder, stronger H man held the vantage, after ail. Keitherof tlie.men showed much sign of punishment. ;SmaU gloves cfusli aiid numb, but they do ;not ciit. One of the Master's eyes was evën more flush with his cheek than Nature ^ad made.it. Montgomçry. had two or three Uvid marks upôn his body, and his face was haggard. save for that pink spot which the brandy had brought into either cheek. He rocked a litUe as he : «Itood opposite his man, and hishandfe drooped as if he Celf the gloves to -be an pnutterable Weight. It uus evideuL ihat M Wûs spent and desperately weary ^ If Àe rfeivea oûe où^^hi^yi^}^ mu8fc,J8^I^îy be fatiei. «,'i*r y A »iirti ii*» m , »» Mito ~.i>.iM^^r;^, THE CROXLEY MASTER. I65 to him. If he brought one home, what powcr could there be behind it, and what chance was there of its harming tha colossus in front of him ? It was the crisis of the fight. This round must décide it. " Mix it oop, lad ; mix it oop ! " the iron-men whooped. Eyen the Savage eyes. of thn^-eferee were unable to restrain the excitetÉterowd. Now, at last, the chance had corne for Montgomery. He haa learned a lesson from bis more experienced rival. Why should he not play his own game npon him? ^He was spent. but not nearly so spent as'he pretended. That brandy was to call up his reserves, to let him hâve strength to take full advantage of the openii^ when it came. It was tWling and tiiigling throughJhJs veins, at the very moment when he was lurching and rocking like a beaten raan. He acted his part admirably. The Master felt that there was - an easy task before hinn, and rushed in with ungainly activity to finish it once for aU. He,slap banged aM-ay left and right, bojring Montgomery up against the ropès, swinging in his ferocious blows Jl| those animal grants which told of the ficious unJ^behind piem. y fiut »:>ntgomery was too cool to fall a victim t(^ ^y (A thoee iBHPderous upper-cuts. He kept ont of^ iwtir hm>»^ ^uxj/ wiTO t figia py^fl^ an activé fooÇIÏSa^ head wiùcfi waa sivif t te ^1^ Atid yet lie îmtri ved ^l& présent the sutoe appea;^»^ of a msin who^ is 166 THE CROXLEY MASTER. i! m m a- r /" hopelessly done. The Master, weary-from his own shower of blows, and fearing nothing' from so weak a man' dropped his hand for an iastant, and at that instant Montgomery's right came home. . It W3s\ magéîficent blpw, ^straight, clean, crisp, with the force of the loins and the back behind it. And it .landed where he had mWnt it to-upon,.the exact point of that blue-^ined chin. Flesh and blood could. not Stand such a bîow in siich a place. Neither valour nor harJihood can save the man to whom it cornes, The Master fell backwards. flat, prostrate, striking the ground with so simultaneous a clap thafe it was like a shutter falling froni a wall. A yell which no référée could control broke from the crowded beuches as -the giant we^t down. He lay npon his back, his knees a' little drawu up. his huge ohest panting. He twitched and shook, but could not move. His feet pawed con- vulsively once or twice. It was no^use. He was done " Eight-nine-ten ! " said the timekeeper, and the roar of a thousand voices, witli a deafening clap like the broadside of a ship, told that the Master of Croxley ' was the Master no more. Montgomery stood half dâze, with young Wilson esèortio. him on one side, Turvis on the other, and Fawcett carryin. Hs bag behind, he went^ triumph to his carriage, and drove amid a long roar, which lined the highway like a hedge for the soven miles, back to liis starting-point "It's the g^eatest thing I ever saw in my life bV George„it's ripping!" cried Wilson. who had been left in a kmd of ecst^sy by the events of the day " There's a chtip over Barnsley way who fancies himself a bit Let us spring you on him, and let him see what he can in^ke of you. We'll put up a jmrse-^on't we, Turvis 2 10^ shall never want aU)acker," ;lAt his weight," said the publican, 'Tm behind ^ i.m, I an., for twenty rounds, an,} no âge, country, or colotar barred," .y "SoamI!" crfedFawceU; " middle-weight champion ofthe world, that's what he ^s-hei:e, in the sàme carnage with us." x -^ ^ < But Montgomery was'not to be b^uUed. " No ; I havj my own Wk to do now." ''' "And what may that be ?" ^f ,. " ril use this money tp get my médical Je^rree " " Well. we've plenty of doctors,^but you'i^ the o«ly * n.an in the Eiding that couldsmack the Croxlehlaster -offhisyegs. However, I suppose you know your own business be^t. When you'i^ a doctor, you'd best corne pown intn th^s^ partiv^aa^ y ^H ^^f ^hrayrltnr i^^ ■# v^aiting for you at the Wilson Coal-pits, ^^"^•MMilbHMk. i ^ THE.CROXLEY MASTER •. jgj, Montgomeiy had refrned by devio.,., ways to the surgeiy The hor.es were smoking, at the door, „nd the doetor was ^ust back from his-long jo«r„ey. S-^^e^ «s had ea„ed in bis absence, and he :.a. : ÏÏ worst or tempers. "I suppose I should be glad that you hâve iràï back at ail. Mr. Montgomery ! " he snarled, "42 ' "oxt you clect to take a holiday. I trust it wili net be at so busy a time." _ . "I am sorry, sir, that you should bave been in- convemenced." Hp7T' If' V'*™ '*"' «''eedingly inconvenienoeff." dl! i""' !"'■ "°"'«''"'^'^' ^'•'"" -- y°« been «JoiDg iK^ yonr left eye ? " ' < le was wbereAnastasiabadlodgedher protest " ■ Montgomery laughed. " It is nothiïgTsir- said he. And xou hâve a livid mark «nder your jaw. ît^is .ndeed,WibIe th^t my representatjve, should be goin^' about .n so disn,putable a condi./on. How did you° receive thèse injuries ? " . . fi i.?!!y^' "^ ^'" ^°'''^' there was a little glove- îightto-day overat Croxley."" r And you got mix^uç with that brutal crowd r'^ Iwasrathermixedup.withthem." ' ^ ywhQ^ s gaultQdyoar'-^ — — ' . -= of t^ïe fi^tera."" vof them ? " è\ ?^f«^.v t ' iré THE CROXLEY MASTER. -^ " The Master of Croxley." • " Good heavens ! Perhaps you iuterfered with him ? " " WeU, to tell the truth, I did a little^' , , w ^ ';M. Montgomery, in such a pntcticras mL, , mtmately associated as it is with the highest and most progressive éléments of our small community, it is impossible " "^ Bnt juat theà the tentative bray of a cornet-player ' search,ng for his keynote jarred „po„ their ea,!, and an instant later the Wilson Collie^ brass band waa in fu 1 cry ,nth. "See the Conqnering Hero Cornes," ont- s.de the surgery window. There was a banner warin. and a shouting orowd of miners ^jmatisit. Whatdoesitnieanr'criedtheangry "It means, sir, that i;,ave, In the only way which was open to me, ea^ed the mooey which is necessary Z my edncat,on. It is „y d„ty, Doctor Oldacre, to warn you that I am about to return to the University, and Itr ^honld lose no time in appointing my^^e- ♦ '■ f e '«MkàMHMail' '* lim ? " mine, most it is layer , and as in (■ out- ving, hich 7 for rarn and )UC- # THE "SLAPPING SAL. M fonnd in Brest harbour P„f h. / " «iii , , ■''"'''«'■ fryates and corvettes ill scoured the océan, closely foHcved cver by those her „™l At the utter.ost ends of the earth hl lamty vessels, with s.eet names of gir]s or of Ho.! angled aod shattered each other for the hono.: T^ i;thtSt'''''"'^''"""**''^''P^^^™-..eeod It had Uo«.n hard i„ (1,. „;„,,(_ y,^^ ,^^ dropped with the dawuin. and now M,» tint«d the frin^e of H,. T """« '"" i»to H,» 7^ storm-wrack as it dwindied »to the west and glinted on the endiess crests of the ong, green waves. To north and. south and les '7/ «kyline which was unbroken save bytÏspon ' of foam when two of the -reit A M , ^ oach other into snral Trl""""^''^'' ^^uta^- eut fato- eraggy pointr^itE Ffe^"" 3 attered clumps of palm trees and a pennant of n, sT streammg eut from the bare, conical 1 1 1 171 which capped ^■, f^iL / •#-...* IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ■^' -^ ^d i,. i 1.0 1.1 lÂà|28 |2.5 ■ 50 ^^~ ■■■ |iO 2.0 1.8 •V ■*^ " 1.25 1.4 ^ ■• '■ : ■■ 6" - A ► La. ^\. O ^. #.#' i«>^ Photographie Sdences Corporation 33 WIST MAIN' STREET WIBSTER.N.Y. MSSO (716)872-4503 '^ ^° .. ^^ 172 THE "SLAPPING SAL." it. A/ heavy surf beat upon the shore, and, at a safe distance from it, the British 32-gun frig^te Leda, Captain A. P. Johnson, raised her black, glistening side upon the crest of,^ wave, or swoopecT^wn iqjto an/emerald valley, dipping away to the nor'ard under oa^y sail. On ^r snow-white quarter-deck stood a stiff little brown-faced man, who swept the horizon with his glass. " Mr. Wharton ! " he cried, with a voice like,a rusty Linge. ' A thin, knock-kneed officer shambled across the poop to him. ^ "Tes, sir." " IVe opened the sealed orders, Mr. Wharton." A glimmer of curiosity shone upon the meagre features of the firsf lieutenant. The Leda had sailed with her consort, the Dido, from Antigua the week before, and the admiral's orders had been contained in a sealed envelope. "We were to open them on reaching the deserted island of Sombriero, lying in north latitude eighteen, thirty-six, west longitude sixty-three, twenty-eight. Sombriero bore four miles to the north-east from our port-bow when the gale cleared, Mr. Wharton." The lieutenant bowed stiffly. He and the "^ptain had ^een bosom friends from childhood. They had ^one ta school together, jôifiedthe navyTdgether;fought " ether, and raarried i again each other'g THE «SLAPPING SAL.»' 173 familles, but so long as their feet were on the poop the iron discipline of the service struck ail that was human out of them and left only the superior and the sub- ordmate. Capto Johnson took from his pocket a V blu^ paper, which crackled as he unfulded it. . '' The 32-gun frigates Led^ and Dido (Captains A P Johnson and James Munro) are to cruise from the . point at which thèse instructions are read to the m^uth of the Caribbean Sea, in the hope of encountering the French frigate La Gloire (48). which has recently harassed our merchant ships in that quarter. H M fngates are also directed to hunt down the piiatical craft known sometimes as the SlappingSal and sometimes as the Haivi/ Hudsm, which has plundered the British ships as per margin, inflicting barbarities upon their crews She is a small brig, cairying ten light guns, with one twenty-four pound carronade forward. She was last seen upon the 23rd ult. to the north-ea«t of the island ot Sombriero. " (Signed) James Montgomeky " H.M.S. Colossus, Antigua." " ^^^'"-^«"'"•«O. '• We appear to hâve lost our consort," said Captoia Johnson, folding up his instructions and again sweepinÊi ;' % I ' 17G He's THE "SI/APPINa SiVL." t Londoner, sir, and a cruel villain as' ever walked." "His next walk will be to Execution Dock, Mr. Wharton. Slie seems heavily manned. I wish I could take tweuty topmen out of her, but they would be enough to corrupt the crew of the ark, Mr. Wharton." Both officers were lookin^ through their glasses at the brig. Suddenly the lieutenant showed his teeth in a grin, while the cjmtain flushed a deeper red. " Tiiat's Hairy Hudson on the after-rail, sir." " The low, impertinent blackguard ! He'll play some other antics before we are done with him. Could you reach him with the long eighteen, Mr. Smeaton ? " " Another cable length will do it, sir." The brig yawed as they spoke, and as she came round a spurt of smoke whiffed out from her quarter. It was a pure pièce of bravado, for the gun could scarce carry halfway. Then with a jaunty swing the little ship corne înto the wind again, and shot round a fresh ciu-ve in the winding channel. "The water's shoaling rapidly, sir," repeated the second lieutenant. " There's six fathoms by the chart." "Four by the lead, sir." " When we clear this point we shall see how we lie. Ha! I thought as much ! Lay her to, Mr. Wharton, Now we hâve got her at our mercy ! Tïëîngate wasquite out of sight of the sea now at A. tbe THE «SLAPPING SAL." 177 the heai of tbis river-like estuary. As she came round the curte, the two shores were seen to conver-e at a point about a mile distant. In tbe angle, as near sbore as she c(t)uld get, the brig was lyiog with ber broadside towards ber pursuer and a wisp of black clotb streamin- from ber mizzen. Tbe lean lieutenant, wbo bad reappeared upon deck witb a cutlass strapped to bis side and two pistols rammed into bis belt, peeyed cunously at tbe ènsign. " Is it tbe Jolly Eo^ger, sir ? " be asked. But tbe captaia was furious. "He may hangwbere bis breeches are hangin- before I bave done witb bim ! " said be. " Wbat beats wiU you want, Mr. Wbarton ? " J "We sbould do it witb tbe launcb and the iollv- boat." , *' ^ " Take four and make a clean job of it. Tipe away the crews at once, and l'II work ber in and belp you witb tbe long eighteens." Witb a rattle of ropes and a creaking of blocks the four beats splasbed into the water. Their crews clustered tbickly into them: bare-footed sailors, stolid marines, laughing middies. and in tbe sheets of each tbe senior officers witb their stern schoolmaster faces. Tbe captain, bis elbows on tbe binnacle, stiU watched tbe distant brig. Her crew were tricing up_ ^e Boarding-netting, dragging round the starboàrd ~ guns, knocking new portholes for 'them, and making ^i.. _. r'- ..H' 178 THE "SLAPPING SAL." eYery préparation for a desperate résistance. In'the thick of it ail ^ huge man, bearded to the eyes, with a red nightcap upon his head, was straining and stoopincr and hauling. Thê^captain watched him with a sour smile, and then snapping up his glass he turned upon his.heel. For an instant he stood staring. " Call back the boats ! " he cried in hirthin, crq^ing voice. "Clear away for action there! Cast We those main-deck guns. Brace back the yards, Mr. Smeaton, and stand by to.go about when she bas weigh enough." ç Eound the curve of the estuary was coming a huge vessel. Her great yellow bowsprit and white-winged figure-head were jutting out from the cluster of p^lm trees, while high above them towered three immense masts with the tricolour flag floating superbly from the lûi^zen. Round she came, the deep-blue water cream- ing under her fore foot, until her long, curving, blaçk side, her line of shining copper beneath and of snow- white hammocks above, ahd the thick clusters of men who peered over her bulwarks were ail in fuU viéw. ; '-^er lower yards were slung, her ports triced up, and her guns run out ail ready for action. Lying behind ^ one of the promontories of the island, the lookou^ men i of the Gloire upon the shore had seen the cul de sac into which the British frigate waa headed, so that £aptaÛL d© Milon had served the t^dâ Johnson had the Slapjnnff Soi. as ^S^tam . V >Uà*-t*iMH^M THE "SLAPPINQ SAL.* 179 But the splendid discipUne of the British service was at its best in sueh a crisis. The boats flew back ; their crews clustered^ aboard, they were swimg up àt llie davits and the fall-ropes made fast. Hammocks wei-e brought up and stowed, bulkheads sent down, ports and magazines opened, the fires put ont in the galley, and the drums beat to quarters. Swàrms of men set the head-sails and brought the frigate round, while the gun- crews threw off their jackets and shirts, tightened their belts, and ran ont their eighteen-pounders, peering through the open portholes at the stately Frenchman'' The wind was very light. Hardly a ripple showed itself upon the clear blue water, but the sails blew gently out as the breeze came over the wooded banks. The Frenchman had gone about also, and both ships . were now heading slowly for the sea under fore-and-aft canvas, the Gloire a hundred yards ii^vance. She, ïuffed up to cross the Zeda's bows, but thi British ship came round also, and the two rippled slowly on in such a silence that the ringing of the ramrods as the French marines drove home their charges clanged quite loudly upon thé ear. - "Not much sea-room, Mr. Wharton," remarked the captain. " I hâve fought actions in less, sir." ;^emu8t keep our distance and trust to our gunneFjf^-- She 13 very heavily manned, and if she got alongside we might find ourselves in trouble." ^■■' vj ii-i 180 THE "SLAPPING SAt." " I see the shakoes of soldiers aboard of lier." ' " Two compahies of light infantry from Martinique Now we hâve lier ! Hard-a-port, and let her hâve it aa we cross her stem !" The keen eye of the little commander had "seen the surface ripple, which told of a passing breeze. He had nsed it to dart across the big Frenchman and to rake her with every gun as lie passed. But. once past hér the Lcda had to come back into the wind to keep ont of shoal water. The manœuvre broiight her on to the starboard side of the Frenchman, and the t^im little fngate .^emed to heel right over under the crashin- broadside which burst from the gaping ports. A moment later her topmen were swarming aloft to set her top- sails and royals, and she strove to cross the Gloire's bows and rake her again. The French captain, how- ever, brought his frigate's head round, and the two rode side by side within easy pistol-shot, pou^ng broadsides into each other in one of those murderous duels Vhich could they ail be recorded, would mottle our charte with blood. In that heavy tropical air, with so faint a breeze the smoke formed a thick bank round the two vessels' from which the topmasts only protruded. Neither could see anything of its enemy save the throbs of fire in the darkness, and the guns were sponged and trained and fired into a densej^all of vapour. On the poop ani— the forecastle the marines, in two little réd lines were S^^è.;.* ÏHÈ "SLAPPING SAL.'* \. 181 'pouring^n their volleys, but neither they nor the sea- ' meu-gunners could see whateffect theù-fire was havinc Nor, indeed, could they tell how fa^ they were sj^^erZ themsèlves, for, standing afc a gun, one could but hazily see that upon the right and the left. But above the roar of the catfnon came the sljarper sound of the pipiuc sliot, the crashing of livên planks, and the occasioua^ ' " heavy thud as spar or block came hurfcling on tg the deck. The lieutenants paced up and down the liûe of guns, while Captain Johnson fanned the smoke away with his cocked-hat and peered eagerl>^out. _ "This is rare, Bobby!» said' lie, as the lieutenant ^ ^'oiued him. Then, suddenly restraining himself, " What hâve we lose,'Mr. Wharton ?" ' ' = " Our mamtopsail yard and ouK,gaff, sir." ''Where's the flag ? "> ^ " Gone overboard, sir." ^ "They'U think weVe struck! Lash a^boa^fs ^"»igï^ on tjtaj^tarboard arm of the niizzen cross-iack- yard.", ?T . -^ "^ ' " Yes, sir." A round-shot dashed the binnacle to pièces between them. , A second knocked two marines into a bloody palpitating mash. For a moment the smoke rose, and the EngUsh captain saw that his adversary's heavier métal was^producing a horrible effect. The I,eda was a J ] ^hattered wrecK. Her deck was strewed with coipâes. Several of her portholes were knocked into one, and 14_ • 182- THB."SLAPP1NG SAL." r oHe of her eighteen-pounder guns had been thrownTÎghfc back on to lier breech, and pointed straight up to the fiky. The thin line of marines still loaded and fired, but half the guns were silent,r|md their crews were piled thickly round them. ' ' . ' ^ '; stand by to repel boarders ! " yelled the captain. " Cutlasses, lads, cutl^iases ! " rqared jWharton. "Hold your voUey tiU they touch f" cried the captain of marines. ^ The huge loom of ^he Frenchman Wa^ seep burstiug through the smoke. Thick clusters of boarders hung Tjpon her sides and shrouds. A final broadsid^ léapt from her ports, and the maihmaat ofthe Zerfa, snapping short off a fevv feet above the deck, spun into the air and crashed down upon the port guns, killing ten men and putting the whole battery out of action. An instant later the two ships scraped together, and the starboard bower anchoi: of the Gloire caught the mizzen-chains of the Lcda upon the port side. With a yell the black swari;p of boarders steadied themseives for a spmg. But their feet were never to reach that blooS-stained deck. Prom somewhere there came a well-aimed whiff of grape, and apother, and ^notheï, The English marines and seamen, waiting with cutlass and musket behind the silent guns, saw with amazement the dark masses thinning and shredding away. At the same tim^e the port broadside of the Frenchman burst into TTTOÏff. ^^ ^ ■ - '^ - "~"^."- ' '■- - '" ' - -=^===- 4 - / -"(. « * i'\ w rr , THE *'StAPPING SAL.» 183 ^iu . N / Clear away tho wreck 1 " roared the captain. " What the detil are thejr .firing at ? " • ^ . . ^ " Qet the guna clear ! " panted the lieutenant., " Well do^them yet; boys ! " . - ; The wreckage was'tom and hacked and splintered ^untU firsts^one gun and theh another roared intQ action ' agam. The^r^nchman'a anchor had been eut away and the Leda had worked herself fred from that fhtoî ' hug. ^- But now, suddenly, th^re was a scurry ^ tiie shrouds of the Gloire,. ^n^ a hundred EnglishmeTwere . shoutingthemselvea hoai^e: " They're running < Thev're^* - >»ûning I Thej're running ! " " ■ And it^was true. The Frenchman had céased t^ fire and was intent only upon clapping on ever> sail that' ■ he could can:y. ^ut that shouting hundred coiUd not claim it au as iiitir^own. As^ the smoke ciéared it ' ^as not diffieult tP see the reason. The ships had g^ed the mouth-of the estuary .during the fight, and there, about four miles ont to sea, was the W. consort bearmg down under full sail to the sound of the guns Captain de Milon had done his part for one day, and pi^sently the ^/.^V.',vas, di^Wg off Swiftly to the north, while ttfe IMo was bowling along at'her skirts, rattling aw^y wfth her bow-chasers, until a headland, hid them both from View. x. But the ^da lay sorely stirékèn, witJi fier mainmastx. -gûne,.her hulwarks-shattered; mr riïî.zen-tôpmast and-' gaff shot a-way, her saUs like a beggar's rags, and a ?(^V W' 'M&in .. i ''■'M 'm MH' 184 THE "SLAPtING SAL.» hundred of her crew dead and wounded. Close beside her a mass of wreckage floated upon the waves It was the stern-post of a mangled vessel, and across it m vvliite letters on a black ground, was printed, " Thl Slapping SalJ' ' , ' " By the Lord ! it wa^ the- brig that saved us \ " cried Mr. Wharton. "Hudson brought her into action with the Frenchmn, and was blown ont of the water by a broadside!" The little captain turned on his heel and paced up and down the dedk. Already his crew were plu^^^ina the shot-holes, knotting and splicing and mendin ° When he came back, the lieutenant saw a softening of the stem lines about his eyes and mouth. " Are they ail gone ?" > "Every man. They ,must hâve sunk with the wreck." Thé two offlcers looked down at the sinister nanie and at the stump of wi-eckage which floated in thJ discoloured water. Something black wash^d to and fro beside a splintered gaff and a tangle of halliards It was the outrageons ensign, and near it a scarlet cap Was floatinfif. ■ " He was a viUain, but lie «as a Briton ! " said the captain, at last. " He lived Uke a dog, but, by Ood, he died like a man ! " m^^% '.,^, /t^-\ 1 ^ a THE LORD OF CHÂTEAU NOIR Lri"""^' "'"" ""^ «^™- """- "' br^eu the:r way across Fzuuce, and when the shat- toed forces of the young Eepublic had been swept away to the north of the Aisne and to the south of the W. Three broad stam, of armed men had rolled . ^ow]y but ™.sistibly from the Ehine, nown>eanderi»5 to the north now to the south. dividing. ^oajescin^ but au umtn^g to form one great lake round Paris And from this lake .hère welled out smaller streams one to the north, one southward to Orléans, and a third westward to Normandy. Many a German trooper sa,v the sea for the first time when he rode his ho«e Mrth- deep iDto the waves at Dieppe. Black and bitter we™ the thoughts of F^nchmen hen they saw this weal of dishonour slashed across he fa,r face of their country. They had fought and they had been overbome. That swarming cav»lrv tho^ conntless footmen, the maaterful guns-they h^^ toed and tried to make head against them In battalrona their invaders were not to be beaten; but 185 if^^"«A.''^ -*-■' / B / 186 THE LORD OP CHÂTEAU N(HR. man to man, or ten to ten, they were their equals A brave Frenchman might stiU make a single German rue the day that he had left his own bank of the Ehine Thus, unchronicled amid the battles and the sièges there broke out another war, a war of individuals' with foui murder upon the one side and brutal reprisai on the other. • \ Colonel von Gramm, of the 24th Posen Infantry had suffered severely during this new development' He commanded in the little Norman town of Les Andelys, and his outpoets stretched amid the hamlets and farmhouses of the district round. No French force was within fifty miles of hW, and yet morning after morning he had to listen to a black report of sentries found dead at their posts, or of foniginc parties which had never returned. Then the Colond would go forth in his wrath, and farmsteadings would blaze and villages tremble; but next morning there was .still that same dismal taie to be told. Do what he might, he could not shake off his invisible enemies And yet, it should not hâve been so hard, for from certain signs in common, in the plan and in the deed #it was certain that ail thèse outrages came from a single source. Colonel von Qramm had tried violence and it had failed. Gold might be more successful. He published Jt abroad ovei^thejxnintoyside that Are^andred fmaea - would bepaid for infonnation. There was no réponse. • t% ^\"' >ii' f^^i ' rjf'^. ,.%^4 w ' , THE LORD OF CHÂTEAU NOIR. 187 Then eight hundred. ^ The ,peasant3 were iacoiTuptible. Then, goaded on by a murderçd corporal, he rose to a thousand, and so bought the soûl of François Eejane form labourer, whose Norman avarice was a stron^er passion than Iiis French hatred. '' "You say that you know wlio did thèse crimes?" J^ked the Prussian Colonel, eyeing with loathing the blue-bloused, rat-faced créature before him " Yes, Colonel." "Anditwas ?" "Those thousand francs, Colonel " " Not a sou until your story has been tested. Corne ! Who 13 it who has murdered my men ? " "It is Count Eustace of Château Noir." " You lie !" cried the Colonel, angrily. " A gentle- man and a nobleman could not hâve done such crimes " The peasant shrugged his shoulders. "It is évident to me that you do not know the ^ount. It is this way. Colonel. What I tell you is the truth, and I am not afraid that you should test it Tte Count of Château Noir is a hard man: even at the best time he was a hard man. But of late he has been terrible. It was his son's death, yo'u know His son was under Douay, and he was taken, and then in escapmg from Gemiany he met his death. It was >he^Count's only chnd,^nA.in deed we aU thix.1, ^hat ifc has dnven him mad. With his peasants he foUows the German armies. I do not know how many he has È*iM%'^'^J^' M'-^l^ ' :ér^^ .■.:■ ■■ r%k 188 THE LORp Of CHÂTEAtT NOin. iilled, but it is he who cuts the cross upon the fore- heads, for it is the ba|3^e of his house." It waa true. The murdered sentries had each had a saltire cross slashed across their brows, as by a Imnting-knife. The. Colonel bent his stiff baek and ran his forefinger over the map which lay upon the table. " The Château Noir is not more than four lea^rues " he said. ° ' " Three and a kilomètre, Colonel." " You know the place ?" " I used to work there." Colonel von Gramm rang the bell. " Give this man food and detain him," said he to the sergeant. "Why detain me, Colonel? I can tell you no more." " We shall need you as guide." \ "As guide! ButtheCount? If I were to fall into his hands ? Ah, Colonel " The Prussian commander waved him away. " Send Captain Baumgarten to me at once," said he The officer who ana,.ered the summonswas a man of middle âge, heavy^awed, blue-eyed, witlî a curving yellow moustache, aud a brick-red face whidi turned an ivory white where his helmet had she^d it I^^aa bald^with â^hining. tightly-stt^t^hed ««dp^ at the ba.k of which, as in a mirroi, it wasTla^ourite .w.i..^.. t'--^kB,-<''il4t**^ i- ^^'À.. ^.W"- itr -•'^. THE LORD Oïï CHÂTEAU NOIR. 189 mess^oke of the subalterns to trîm their moustaches. As a soldier he was slow, but reliable and brave. The , Colonel could trust him where a more dashing officer might bë in danger. ''À "You wiU prôceed to Château Noir to-niaht Captain," said he. " A guide has been provided. YoJ ' vill arrqst the Count and bring him back. If there is an attempt at rescue, shoot him at once." " How many men shall I take, Colonel ? " "Well, we are surrounded by .spies, and our only chance is to pounce upon him before he knows that we are on the way. A large force wiU attract attention On the other hand, you must not risk being eut off." "I might mareh north, Colonel, as if to join General Goeben. Then I could turn down this road which I ses upon your map, and get to Château Noir before they could hear of us. In that case, with twenty men " ; Very good, Captain. I hope to lee you with your pnsoner to-morrow momint» " O' It was a cold December night wlien Captain Baum- garten marched out of Les Andelys with his twenty Poseners, and took the main road to the north-west Two miles out he turned suddenly down a narrow' deeply-rutted track, and made swiftly for his man A Ja^M im was feUing, swishing among the tan= poplar trees and rustling in the fields on^either side. The Cantarn walked first with Moser, a veteran serçeant d *t *^«.S3..1uîià'i,4 'tt!<*lig ^•kf\ •. 190 THE LORD OP CHÂTEAU NOIB. beside him. The seigeant's wrist wm fastened l that of the French peasant, a'nd it had been whispered in his ear that m case of an ambush the first bullef fired' would be through hia head. Behind them the twenty lafantrymen plodded along through the darkness ^vith their faces sunk to the rain, and their boots squeakin..' m the soft, wet clay. They knew whe«> they were gomg and why, and the thought upheld them. for they were bitter at the loss of their comrades. It was a cavahy job, they knew, but the cavalry were ail on *ith the advance, and, besides, it was mor^ fitting that the régiment should avenge its own dead men. It ^as nearly eight when they left Les Andelys At half-past eleveu their gnide stopped at a place where . two high pilkrs, crowned witU some heraldic stone- work, ilanked a huge iron gâte. The wall in which it had been the opening had crumbled away, but the great gâte stUl towered above the brambles and weeds which had ovei-grown its base. The Prussians made their way round it, and advanced stealthily, under the shadow of a tunnel of oak branches, up the long avenue which was still cumbered by the leaves of last autumn' At the top they halted and reconnoitred. The black château lay in front of them. The moon h«l shone ont between two rain-clouds, and threwthe old house into silver and shadow. It was shaped Uke an L, jatà * low atohed door in ftont, and Ifnës of™ small Windows like the open ports of a man-of-war ' • —If" •>lf THE LOBD OP CHÂTEAU NOIR. 191 Above was a dark roof breaking at the corne'rs ioto me round overhanging turrels, the whole lying silent a the moonsh,„e, with a drift „f ragged clouds blacke,.. pne of the lower Windows. The Captain whispered his orde« to his men. Son,e were to c:.ep to the front door, some to the back. Some wen, to watch the east, and some th"e .est. He and the -rgeant stole on tiptoe to the lig>ted^nndow. It was a small room into whieh (hey looked verv rneanV fumished. An elderly n>an-in the ,rl oZ ™ema was reading a tattered paper by the li.ht of a ^t^™.g candie. He leaned backin hLood n c ai w.th his feet npon a box, while a bottle of white wine It" "'' " ""^'-'''^ '-"- «PO- a stool beside h^ Tlie sergeant thmst his needle-gnn th..ngh the aZ and the man sprang to his feet with a sbriel" "SJence, for your lifel He honse is surronnded and you cannot escape. Con,e round and open the wm open it! He rushed from the room w.Vl. u- ^^ e„.n.p,ed up in his hand. AnTstlfw w.th a groanxng pf old looks and a rasping of ba,« he ol Z:r' "'"'■ "' ''" ^™--« in"' L jcone-flagged passage^ ^ . ^ ^.^ — -_^ " Where is Count Eustace de Château No7r ?" * "Mymaster! He is -out, sir." \A V -'-'.. /r ■^^¥,^i 192 THE LORD OP CHÂTEAU NOTR. " Out at thîs time of night:? Your life for a lie ! " ^ " It is true, sir. He is out ! " "Where?" " I do not know." "Doingwhat?" " I cannot tell. No, it is no „se your cocking your p-^ol, s.r You ma^ Mil me. but y„„ cannot make me tell you tliat which I do not know." " Is lie often ont at this hour ? " " irequently." "Aid when does he oome home ? " " Before daybreak." Captain Baumgarten rasped out a Gerraan oath. He had had hi3 journey for nothing, then. Tlie man's an , vers , -ère only^jo Ukely to be true. -It ™ what teimyht hâve expected. But at leâ«t he wonid çearch he house and make sure. Leaving a picket at the front door and another at the back, the seigeant and he drove the trembliug butler in fent of them-his shak ing candie sending strange, flickering shadows over the old tai^stnes and the low, oak-™ftemi ceilings. They searched the whole house, f„>m the hnge, stone-flagged k^hen be W to the dining-hall on the second Toor ^-.th its galleryfor mnsicians, and iu panellin. black w.th âge, but nowhere was there a living creat«,o. Un above in an attic they found Marie, the elderly wife of the Mer. butthfi owner ^^, „„ „^,^^ ser^Lts, anT™ 01 his own présence there was no trace. '< ;.^i.■^:^*?v ;■ ^ .:..j^4;ïA , p*.;;: -i ; "/^■-' THE LORD OP CHATEAU KOrB. I93 1 ,]' r« ^Tâ '"""'^'"' ''''■'"^ ^"P*»^ Baumgarten had saWed himself „pon the point. It wa« a difficnlt hou.e to search. Thin stairs, which only one man could ascend at a time, connected Unes of tortuons cor- iTfff ™'-r"' r" ™ ""' *»' «"'^ ^0- -- eut off from ^^ „e,ghbo„r. Huge fireplaces ya^ed in each while the Windows wem si. feet deep in the wall Captam Baumgarten stamped with his feet, and tore down curtains, and struck with the pommel of hia sword. If there were seo«t hiding-places, he waa not fortunate enough to find them. "I hâve an idea." said he. at te. speaking in German feUow, and n,ake sure that he communicates with no one " xes, Captain." "And you will place fonr men in ambush at the front and at thp ha^v t*. • i-i , daybreak our bird may return to the nest." " And the others, Captain V "Ut them hâve «.eir suppers in the kitehen. This feUow wUl serfe you with méat and wine. It is a wfld 2*; «-<• - sball he better hère than on the cl^ " And yourself, Captain ?" Tbll^" '«'[^■"y ™PP«r »p hère in the dining-hall.. Tl logs are la.d and we ean light the iire.^ y^ wi.l «lln.e,f,hëreTS-SnfaIar5r What ean you^give :^ for supper— you ?" ' ^ -#k .*. „. ■Ê: 1-94 THE LORD OP CHÂTEAU NOIR. "Alas, monsieur, there was a time when I might hâve answered, 'What you wish!' but now' it is ail that we can do to find a b^e of new claret and a cold pullet." ^...-^-'"^ 'I^That wm do very well. Let a gtxani go about " with hiin, sergeant, and let him feel the end of a baypnet if he plays us any tricks." Captain Baumgarten was an old campaigner. ' In the Eastem provinces, and before that in Bohemia, he had leamed the art of quartering himself upon the enemy While the butler bro^ght his supper he occu|lied himself m making his préparations for a comfortable night. He lit the candelabrum of ten candies upon the centre table. The lire Vas already buming up crackHng merrily, and sending spurts of blue, pun^ent smoke into the room. The Captain walked to^the wmdow and looked ont. The moon had gone in again and it was raining heavily. He could hear the deep sough of the wind and see the dark loom of the trees aU swaying in the one direction. It was a sight which gave a zest to his comfortable quarters, and to the cold fowl and the bottle of wine which the butler had brought up for hii^. He wa^ tired and hungiy after his long tramp, so he threw his sword, hk helmet and • his revolver-belt down upon a chair, and feïl te e^éerly upon his supper. Then, with his glass of wine before him and his cigar between his lips , he til ted hjs^chmr ^ back and looked aboùt Imn. (p K ..ÇBy(S.tja*"' '. ^ ,,. w.. »"*?.< •,■^-- V, THE LOBD OP CHÂTEAU NOIR. 195 , - H^iwithin a Bi.all circle of brilliant light which ou h:s terra-cotta face, hia heavy eylbrows, ami his ydlow moustache. But outaide that circle tllg» ,1 ' vague and shadowy iu the old dlmug-haU. t£ site were oat-paneW aud two were Lg with ^ ^Vestry. acres» which, huntsmeu and d^s ,and staf , were still dimly strcamin» Abofc rt. fi , ^ mw.. «f 1, ,j- *"""« Aiqfe the fireplace were rowsof herald.c shields ^ith the blazonings of the ftmUy aud Of its alliances, the fatal saltire cTs bLÎ > ">g out OU êâch of them. "ss oreau- tJ^Z ^^y °' "" ^«'S°™" of Château Wir ft^ the fireplace, ail n.en with hawk noae, and ^ the Fronde. Captaiu Baumgarten, heavy with his •«paat, lay back iu bis chair looking Z, at them ' ^;Jf-^^-5^toba^osu.oke^ud;L^: ■ ■^ «ver the stran|^ chance which had sent hiuT a u,af - , - Je B^tic ço.t, to eat his s.pper iu the a'n esTi; hall 0» thèse pr»ud Norman chieftains. But the J was hot, and the Captai^'s eyes We™ heavy. hÏc£ -nk slowly „p„„ ^3 „,,3,_ ^„^ thelu IZ . gleamed upon the broad white scalp. ' TheÏ b^ÏThe^r'' ''^ "'"'^•' ^"»» ••« '^o- ' ^' ""' '"'"«' ■««» "'"'ost within ann's leugth ^ '»■■ ion THE LORD OP CHÂTEAU N^lf;'! ■■"■■' i of him, was B**ndmg a Luge man, silent, motionléss, with no sign of life ëave hié fierce. glinting eyes. He was black-haired, olive-skinned, with a pointed tuft of hlack beard, and a great, fierce nose, towards which ail ,§1 liis features seemed to run. His plieeks were wrin like a last year's apple, but his sweep of ^shouWe'; bony, corded banda, tôld of a strength which wasS- sapped by âge. His arms were folded across^ his arching che^t, and his mouth^as set in a fixed smile. "Pray do not trouble ySrself to look for your weapons," he said, as tîie Pruâ^ian cast a swift glance at the empty chair in which they had been laid. " You hâve jjeen, if ^M^will allow me to say so, a little indis- oreef %^ake yourself so much at home in a hôuse cvery wall of which is honeycombed- with secret passages. You will be amused to hear that forty men were watching you at your supper. Ah ! what then ? " Captain Baumgarten had taken a s^tep forward with clenched fists. The Frenchman held )ip the revolver which. he grasped in his right left he hurled tJjp.German back i "Pray l^eep your seat," sai àMT '^ou have no cause to trouble about youi* men. They have already bèen provided for. It is astonishing with thèse stone ^oors how little one can hear what goes on beneath. hav^ been relieved of you r comman d, and have ôw oqpéô^tMnk of yourself, Hay I ask what your nàme is ? " ,'# ^ ' .. ,p ■«• ,1* # s > ' V r * .X,i£^..£l^'^e£ri:L!^^ta'\l>X .'i^- 4»rMrtli«i«i.fc. «¥t^^ ■"!.' ' ^- THE LORD OP CHÂTEAU NOIR. 199 August The prisoners were broken up into parties, and sont back into Germany by différent routes'. Eustace was taken upon the 5th to a viUage caUed Lauterburg, where he met with kindness from the German officer in commaud. This good Colonel had the hungry lad to supper, offered him the best he had, opened a bottle of good tdne, as I hâve tried to do for you, and gave him a cigar from his own case. Might I entreat you to take one from mine ?'" The German again shook his head. His horror of his companion had increased as he sat watching the lips that smiled and the eyes that glared. "The Colonel, as I say, was good to my boy. But, unlùckily, the prisoners were moved next day across the Rhine to EttHngen. They were not equally for- tunate there. The officer who guarded them was a ruffian and a viUain, Captain Baumgarten. He took a pleasure in humUiating and illtreating the brave men who had fallen into his power. That night, upon my son answering fiercely back to some taunt of his, he struck him in the eye, like thia ! " The crash of tfie blow rang through the haU. The German's face feU forward, his hand up, and blood oozing through his fingers. The Count settled down in his chair once more. ^ :::My boy waa d isfi gnred V th e b l ow, and ^ig villain made his appearance the object of his jeers. By the way, you look a little comical yourself at the V"-' 200 . THE LORD OP CHÂTEAU NOIR. présent jnoment, Captain, and your Colonel w'ould cer- tainly say that you had been getting into mischief. To continue, liovvever, my boy's youth and his destitution -for his pockets were empty— moved the pity of a kinp-hearted major, and he advanced him ten Na. pofeons from his own pocket without security of any kind. Into your hands, Captain Bai^mgarten, I return" thèse ten gold pièces, siace I cannot learn the naa^of the lender. I am gratef ul from my heart for thii ^d- ness shown to my boy. * ^ t. l'The vile tyrant who commanded the escort accom- pamed the prisoners to Durlach, and from there to Carlsruhe. He heaped every outrage upon my lad because the spirit of the Château Noirs would not stoop to turn away his wrath by a feigned submission. Ay, thiscowardly villain, whose heart's blood shall yet clôt upon this hand. dared to strike my son with his open hand, to kick him, to tear hairs from his moustache-to use him thus-and thus-and thus ! " ïhe German writhed and struggled. He was help. less in the hands of this huge giant whose blows were raming upon him. When at last, blinded and half- senseless. he staggered to his feet, it was only to be hurled back again into the great oaken chair. He sobbed in his impotent anger and shame. "My boy was frequently jnoved to teors by the ^fe^niliation trf hig psitîon," continued t^e ' CounT ~ " You wiU understand me when I say that it is a bitter t}i I H« ■ ^-.v .. ^i.*» '^ •/ I I k w THE LOED OF CHÂTEAU NOIB. 201 L^hing to be helpless ia the hands of an insolent and re- morseless enemy. On arriving at Carlsruhe, however las face, which had been wouaded by the brutalité of to guard, wa3 bound up by a young Bavarian ™b- altem ,vho wa, touched byhis appearance. I regret to see that your eye is bleeding so. WiU you pe,;,it ■ne to bind it with my silk handkerchief v , ■ He leaned forward, but the German dashed his hand aside. "lamin yonrpower, you monster!" he cried- "I can endure your brutaUties, but net yoûr hypocrJ " The Count shrugged his shoulders. "I am takiu. thinga u, their order, just as they occurod," said ho° I waa under vow to tell it to tho first German officer- with whom I could talk têlcà-têle. Let me see. I had got aa far as the young Bavarian at Carlsmhe I r^^t extremely that you wiU not permit me touse Lu alight skJl in surgery as I possess. At Carlsruhe, my ad was shut up in the old caserne, where he «.mained for a fortnight. The worst pang of his captivity was that some unmannerly curs in the garrison would taunt him with his position as he sat by his window in the evenmg. That reminds me, Captain, that you are not quite situated upon a bed of roses yourself, are you now ? You came to trup a wolf, my man, and now the' -béas im you down witlr his fengrlnyoûrtlKat: a family man, too, I should judge, by that weU-iillad tumc. Well, a widow the more will make little matter ■ .'il 4^1. W^jtaiàhïi . '^'., .%é^ i ^ \ <,^ » 202 THE LORD OP CHÂTEAU NOIR. and they do not ugjiaUy remain widôws long. Get back into the chair, you dog I "Well, to continue my story-^at the end of a fort- night my son and his friand escaped. I need 4a trouble you with the dangers which they ran, or with the privations which they endured. Suffice it that to disguise tliemselves they had to take the clothes of two peàsants, whom they waylaid in a wood. Hiding by day and travelling by night, they had got as far Into France as Remilly, and were within a mile-a single mile, Captain-of crossing the German Unes when a patrol of Uhlans came right upon them. Ah ! it was hard, was it not, when they had corne so far and were so near to safety ?" The Count blew a double caU upon his whistle, and three hard-faced pesants entered the room. " Thèse mustrepresentmy Uhlans," saidhe. "Well then, the Captàin in command, finding that thèse men were French soldiers in civiUan dres^ within the German lines, proceeded to hang them without trial or ceremony. I think, Jean, that the centre beam is the strongest." The unfortunate soldier was dragged from his chair to where a noosed rope had been flung over one of the huge oaken rafters which spanned the room. The cord was slipped orer his head, and he felt its harsh oriD ^iiathroat. TlaTh fte peasftnts .eized the other end, and looked to the Connt for hia oriere. The A-#>ï- ;%> . k^^ifimj 'ilisÉàA^'^iûàAfa^ -^î-ft^- Get THE LOBD OP CHlTEAU NOIR. 203 offlcer pale, but firm, folded lus arms and stared defiantly at the man who tortured him " You are now face to face with death, aàd J perceive face to face w.th death. and he p„,yed, also. It W pened that a gene«a officer can,e „p, and he hearf tl' lad pray^ng for his mother. and it n.oved him so-he I>«.og hxmself a father-that he ordered his Uhlans -ay, and he remained with hi. aide-de-can.p o^^ te .de the condemned men. And .hen he hLd aU he lad had to tell, that he was the only child of an old famUy and that his naotherwas in faiUng health, he threw off the rope as I throw off this, and le kissed £.m on either cheek, a, I kiss you, and he bade him go aa I bid you go, and may every kind wish of that noble' ■ General, though it could not stave pff the fever which slew my son, descend now upon your head." And so it waa that Captain Baumgarten, disfignred, bhnded, and bleeding, staggered out into the wind and ■ the rain of that wild December dawn. à%^^. jMjjjWîSjjiAMj ' THE STRIPED CHEST. " What do you make of her, AUardyce ? " I asked. My second mate was standing beside me upon the poop, with his short, thick legs astretch, for the gale had left a considérable swell behind it, and our two quarter-boats nearly toiiched the water with every rell. He steadied his glass àgainst the mizzen-shrouds, and . he looked long and hard at this disconsolate stran^er every time she çamè reeling up on to the crest of a roller and hung balanced for a few seconds before •swooping down upon the other side. She lay so low in the water that I could only catch an occasional glimpse of a pea-green Irne of bulwdrk. She was a brig, but her mainmast had been snapped short ofif some ten feet above the. deck, and no effort seemed to hâve been made to eut away the wreckage, which floated, sails and yards, like the broken wing of a wouiîded gull, upon i^e water beside her. The fore- mast was still standing, but the foretopsail was flying loose, and the headsails wére streaming out in Ion» white pennons in front of her. Never hâve I seQn a vessôl which, appeared to hâve gone through rougher handling. I i 1 s 201 THE STRIPED CHEST. 205 But we could not be surprised at that, for there had been times during the last three days when it was a question whether our own barque would ever see land again. For thirty-six hours we had kept her nose lo it, and if the Mary Sinclair had not been as good a sëaboat as ever left the Clyde, we could not bave gone through. And yet hère we were at the end of it with the loss only of our gig and of part of the starboard bulwark. It did not astouish us, however, when the smother had cleared away, to find that others had been less lucky,' and th^t this mutilated brig, staggering about upon a blue sea, and under a cloudless sky, had been left, like a blinded man after a lightning flash, to tell of the terror whieh is past. AUardyce, who was a slow and methodical Scotch- man, stared long and hard at the little craft, whUe our seamen lined the bulwark or clustered upon the fore shrouds to haye a view of the stranger. In latitude 20*» and longitude 10^ which were about our bearings, one becomes a little curions as to whom one meets, for one- has left the main lines^of Atlantic commerce to the north. For ten days we had been sailing over a solitary sea. "She's derelict, l'm thinking," said the second mate. I had come to the same conclusion, for I could see no sign of life upon her deck, and there was no answer ^the friendly wavings from our seamen. The mw^ had probably deserted her under the impression that she was about to founder. ■ as f^ ^^' ■s^^fiiT---'*^"r^'^--^'Tî*T^"'*^^^ ,' .. ^X*^T '^^■**»|^*?^S5 ' •■ . ¥«• ' 206 THE STRIPED CHEST. "She can't last long," continued Allardyce, in his measured way. « She may put her nose down and her tail up any mimite. The water's lipping up to the edge of her rail." ,- ^ " What's her flag ? " I asked. ".rm trying to make out. Ifs got ail twisted and tangled with the halyards. Yes, IVe got it now, clear enough. It's the BraziUan flag. but it^s wrong side up " She had hoisted a signal of distress, then, before her people had abandoned her. Perhaps they had only just gone. I took the mate's glass and looked round over the tumultuous face of the deep blue Atlantic still veined and starred with white lines and spoutin«3 of foam. But nowhere could I see anything hum^ beyond ourselves. "There may be Uving men aboard," said I. «There may be salvage," muttered the second mate " Then we will run down upon her lee side, and Ke to " We were not more than a hundred yards from her when we swung our foreyard aback, and there we were, the baxque and the brig, ducking and bowing like two clowns in a dance. " Drop one of the quarter-boats," said I. " Take four men, Mr. AUardyce, and see what you can leam of her " But just at that moment my first officer, Mr ^8t>png, cam e^ de ck, for se venJbelkJiad staick-^ and ,e was but a few minutes off his watch. It woidd interest me to go myself to this abandoned vè^el and 11 S( >;è>, THE STBIPED CHEST. 207 to see what there might be aboard of her. So with a Word to ArmstTong, I swung myself over the ride slipped down the falls, and took my place in the sheets' of the boat. ît was but a little distance, but it took some time to traverse, and eo heavy was the roU, that often, when we were in the trough of the sea, we could not see either the barque wWch we, had left or the brig which we were approaching. The sinking sun did not penetmfe down there, and it was cold and dark in the hoUows of the waves, but each passing biUow heaved ns up into the warmth aud the sunshine once more. At eiu of thèse moments, as we hung upon a white-capped ridge between the two dark vaUeys, I caught a gUmpse of the long, pea-green line, and the nodding foremast of the bng, and I steeréd so as to corne round by her stem, so that we might détermine which was the bèst way of boatding her. As, we passed her we saw the name Nos«. Sehnora da Tittoria painted across her onpping counter. "The weather side, sir," said the second mate. Stand by with the boathook, carpentsr I " An instant later we had jnmped over the bulwarks. which were tardly higher than our boat, and found ourselves upon Uie deck of the abandoned vessel. _Our firsLthought was to provide forourwnaféW= m case-as seemed veiy probable-the vessel should settle down beneaUi our feet. With this object two of H,W* 208 THE STRIPED CHE8T. L our men held on to the painter of the boat, and fended her ofr from the vessel's side, so that she might l^ ready in case we had^to make a humed retreat. The carpenter was sent to find ont hin^ much „watej^ there was, and whether it was still gaming, while the other seaman, Allardyce and myself, made a ra^d*" inspection of the vessél and her cargo. " i> The deck was littered with wreckag€^"'â|î with hen- coops, in which the dead birds were wâsl^ing about. The beats were gone, with the exception of one, the bottom of which had been stove, and it was certain that the crew had abandoned the vessel. The cabin was in a deck house, one side|| Vhich had been beaten in by a heavy sea. AHardyce aûd I entered it, and found the captain's table as he had left it, his books and papers~all Spanish or Portuguese— scattered over it, with piles of cigarette ash everywhere. "I looked about for the log, but could not find it. "As Hkely as not he never kept one," saicf AUardyce. "Things are pretty slack aboard a South American trader, and they don't do more than they can^help. If there was one it must hâve been taken away with him in the boat." "I should Hke to take ail thèse books and papers,". said I. " Ask the carpenter how much time we hâve." His report was reassuring. The vessel was fuU of jnmter, but some of the cargo was buoyant, and thëir^ waa no immédiate danger of her sinking. Probably 209 V-j THE STBIPED CHEST. ' f ":"^' ^^^- ^i^k, but woild drift about as one of those temble, unmarked reefs which hâve sent so many stout vessels to the bottom. , . " In that case there is no danger in yotir going beloC^ Mr. AI ardyce," said I. "See what you can Lke «; her and find eut how mucb of her cargo ma y be saved. 1 11 look through thèse paj^rs while yoù are gone " The biUs of lading, and some notes and letters T^hich lay npon the desk, sufficed to ioform me tha^ th. •Brazihan brig Nossa Sehnora da Viltoria hâd cleâred from Bahia a month before. The name of the captain was Texeira, but there was no record as to the number of the crew. She was b«und for London, and a glance at the bills of lading was sufficient to show me thatwe ^ were not likely to profit much in Vhe way of saWe Her cargo consisted of nuts, ginger, and wood, thelatter m the shape of great logs of v^luable tropical growths- It was thede, no doubt, which had prevented theif fated vessel from going to the bottom, but they were of^ such a size as to make it impossible for us to extract them^ Besides thèse, there were a few fancy goods, such as a number of omamental birds for millinery purposes, and a hundred cases of preserved fruits. And then as I turned over the papera, I came upon a short note in English, which arrested my attention. " It is requested," said the note, "that the yarious old Spanish and Indian curiosities, which came out of the Santarem collection, and which are consigned to P terVVv^'"/ w "" \w;,'^T'/ - 210 THE STRIPBD CHESf. !.'■ 7 Prontfoot and Neuman, of Oxford Street, London, should be ptit-in some place where .there may be no danger of thes^ very valuable and unique articles , being injured or tampered ^itb. This applies most particùlarly to the treasure-chest of Don Eamirez di Leyiïi, which must "on no account be placed where any one can get at it." . The treasure-chest of Don Eamirez! Unique and valuable articles ! Here.was a chance of salvage after ail! I had risen to my feet with the paper in my hand, when my Scotch mate appeared in the doorway. "l'm thinkiûg ail isn't quite as it should be aboard of this ship, sir," said he. He was a hard-faced man, and yet I could see that he had been startled. « - "ÎVhat'sthematter?" "Murder's the matter, sir. There's a man hère with his brains beaten out.'* " Killed in the storm ? " said I. "May bè so, sir. But l'il be surpiisedif you think so after you hâve seen him." " Where is he, then ?^' " This way, sir; heré in the maindeck house." There appeared to hâve been no accommodation below in the brig, for there was the after-house for the captain, another by the main hatchway with the cook's galley attached to it, and à third in the forecastle for thfr mefr. ït wa» to tfaia middle one^t hat the mate led me. As you entered the galley, Vth its Utter of * -*n^' ■>'7fV,'.<^^:. THE STRIPpD CBEST. 211 tumbled pots and dishes, was' upon the right, and «pou th.. left was a small ™,m with two bunks for he offiters. Then beyond there was a place about twelve feet Sqjwre, which was littered with flags and spore canvas. AU round the walls were a number of packets dene upin coarse cloth and carefnlly lashed to the woodwork. At the other end was a gr^at box, stnped red and white, thongh the red was so faded and he white so dirty that it was only where the light fell direçtly npon It that one could see the colouring The box was, by subséquent measurement, four feet three ..nche3inlength,three feet two inches in height, and three feet across-eonsiderably lai^er than a seaman's But it was not to the box that my eyes or „,y thonghts were tnrned as I entered the.st^re-room. On the floor, lying across the Utter of b«ntin^ther« was stre ched,a smaU,.dark man with a short, curling beart He lay as far as it was possible from the box, with his feet towarda it and his head away. A crimson patch was pmited upon the white canvas on which his head was resting, and little red ribbons witsathed themselves round h,3 swarthy neck and tndled away on to the floor, but there was np sign of a wound that I could se^ and his face was as placid as that of a sleeping 1 It was only when I stK)oped tiat I could perceive his ".jury, and then I turned away with an exclamation of *!■'■*-- i l^ cijSiS 212 THE STEÎPED CHEST. horror. He had been poleaxed ; apparently by some person standing behind liim. A frightful blow had smashed in the top of liis head. and penetrated deeply into his brain. His face might well be placid, for death must hâve been absolutely instantaneous, and the position of the wound showed that he coiild never hâve seen the person who had inflicted it. " Is that foui play or accident, Captain Barclay ? " asked my second mate, demurely. '^ou are qiiite right, Mr. Allardyce. The man has been murderecl struck down from abovelby a sharp and heavy weapon.l But who was he, and why did they murder him ? " 1 " He was a ^ommon seaman, sir," said the mate. " You can see that if you look at his Angers." He turned out his pockets as he spoke and brought to light a pack of cards, some tarred string, and a bundle of Brazilian tobacco. . , " Hullo, look at this ! " said he. It was a large, open knife with a stiff spring blade which he had picked up from the floor. The steel was shining and bright, so,that we could not associate it with the crime, and yet the dead man had apparently held it in his hand when he was struck down, for it still lay within his grasp. " It looks to me, sir, as if he know he was in danger. and :kept his kniîe handy," said the mate. " However, we can't help the poor beggar now. I can't make out i 'fe \ -m ta,JAÀ^\i^ t^J^-lLl^ l^^^^^- THE STRIPED CHEST. 213 thèse things tliat are lashed to the wall. They seem to be idols and weapons and curios of ail sorts 'ïone up in old sacking." ^ "That's right," said I. "They are the only things of value that we are likely to get from the cargo. Hail the barque and tell them to send the other quarter-boat to help us to get the stuff aboard." While he was a^ay I examined this curious plunder which had corne into our possession. The curiosities were so wrapped up that I could only form a gênerai idea as to their nature, but the striped box stood in a good ]ight where I could thoroughly examine it. On the Ud, which was clamped and cornered with metal-work, there was engraved a complex coat of arms, and beneath it was a line of Spanish which I was able to decipher as meaning, "The treaaure-chest of Don Eamirez di Leyra, Knight of the Order of Saint James, Govemor and Captain-General of Terra Firma and of the Province of Veraqua^." In one corner was the date 1606, and on the other a large white label, upon which was written in English, « You are earnestly requested, upon no account, to open this box." The same warning was repeated underneath in SpanisL As to the lock, it wa^ a very complex and heavy one of engraved steel, with a Latin motto, which was above JL seaman 's compi By the time I bad finished this examination of the pecuUar box, the other quarter-boat with Mr. Armstrong, .)!>ml[< , '. ,.^Akili^ iMimm^'" mhm 4^ï^,-^* ï <» :;4 î'v ^ 214 THE STRIPED OHEST. |. the first officer, had corne alongside, and we began to carry put and place in her the various curiosities which appeared to be the only objecta worth moving from the derelict ship. When she was Ml I sent her back to the barque, and then Allardyce and I, with the car- penter and one seaman, shifted the striped box, which vvas the only thing left, to our boat, and lowered it over, balancing it upon the tvro middle thwarts, for it was so heavy that it would hâve given the boat a dangerous tUt had we placed it at either end. As to the dead man, we left him where we had found him. The mate hamÊH, M«m»> . ^ f nmÊÊ X s r !' Il I .^.^X.L..' xnMkKMiMMMMii ■■■'•> THE STBIPED CHEST. 219 under the table, and as we looked at his dripping head we exchanged glances, and I do not know which was the paler of the two. " Thè same as the Spanish sailor," said I. "Theverysame. God préserve us ! It's that infernal chest! Look at Armstrong's hand ! " He held up the mates right hand, and there was the screwdçver which he had wished to use the night before. "He's been at the chest, sir. He knew that I was on deck and you asleep. He knelt down in front of it, and he pushed the lock back with that tool. Then something happened to him, and he cried out so that you hedrd him." " Allardyce," I whispered, " what couU hâve happened tohim?" "^^ï^ The second mate put his hand upon my sleeve and . drew me into his cabin. " We can talk hère, sir, and we don't know who may be Kstening to us in there. What do you suppose is in that box, Captain Barclay ? " •' I give you my word, Allardyce, that I hâve no idea." " Well, I can only find one theory which will fit ail . the facts. Look at the size of the box. Look at ail the carving and metal-work which may conceal any number of holes. Look at the weight of it ; it took four men to cany it. On the top of th^t, remember that two men '^ ^Eavè tneî td op&ti ït, ancï both hâve corne to their Ind through it. Now,sir, what can it mean except one thing?" isV '\ i^fe^' UiA«&»'i!ia ' -Urt iJl'.-.'wJ.îr .*. .!^^- , til^iv»' T i- int^ j*^ 'V^ f-}-i':' 220 THE STRIPÇD CHEBT. " You mean there is a man in it ? " " Of course thero is a man in it. You know how it is in thèse South American States, sir. A man may be Président one week and hunted like a dog the next. they are for ever flying for their lives. My idea is that there is some fellow in hiding there, who is armed aud desperate, and who wiU fight to the death before he is taken." " But his food and drink ?" " It's a roomy chest, sir, and he may^ave some pro- visions stowed away. As to his ^rink, he had a friend among the crew upon the brig who saw that he had what he needed." ^' You^iuk, then, that the label asking people not to o^n the bbx^as simply written in his interest ? " ^ " Yes, su-, tfîat is my idea. Hâve you any other way of explaining the facts ? "" I had to confess that I had not. " The question is what are we W.^do ? " I asked. "The man's a dangerous ruffian who sticks at nothing. l'm thinking it wouldn't be a bad thing to put a rope round the chest and tow it alongside for half an hour; then we could open it at our ease. Or if We just tied the box up and kept him from getting any water maybe that would do is weU. Or the car- penter gould put a coat of vamish over it and stop ail iiie blow-hôîêif ^ -\ (( Corne, AUardyce," said I, angrily. "You don't ckâj*/f4,4sÊ.^ ■4,- THE STRIPED CHEST. 221 seriously mean to say that a whole sbip's company are going to be terrorized by a single man in a box. If he's there, l'il engage to fetch him ont! " I went to my room and came back with my revolver in my hand. "Now, AUardyce," said I. "Do you open the lock, aûd l'il stand on guard." " For God's sake, think wbat you are* doing, sir ! " cried the mate. " Two men Lave lost their lives over it, and the blood of one not yet dry upon the carpet." • " The more reason why we should revenge him." " Well, sir, at least let me call the carpenter. Three are bettèr than two, and he is a good stout man." He went off in search of him, and I was left alone with the striped chest in the cabin. I don't think that l'm a nervous man, but I kept the table between me and this soUd old reUc of the Spanish Main. lu the growing light of moming the red and white striping was beginning.to appeax, and the curious scrolls and wreaths of métal and carving which showed the loving pains which cunning craftsmen had expended upon it. Presently the carpenter and the mate came back to- gether, the former with a hammer in his hand. " It's a bad business, this, sir," said he, shaking his head, as he looked at the body of the mate. " And you think there's some one hiding in the box ? " There's nft jioubt about it," said AHardyce, picking - up the screwdriver aiïd setting his jaw like a man who ueeds to brace his courage. "l'il drive the lock back ■^' s!' J?J»,A>,J L•^ii^&}:. 222 THE STBIPED OHEST. ityon wil both stand by. If he rises let liim hâve it oa the head with your hammer, carpenterl Shoot at once, sir, if he raises hh hand. Now!" ^ He had knelt down in front of the striped chest, and passed the bla(^ of the tool under the lid. With a Sharp snick the lock flew back. "Stand by!» yeUed the mate, and with a heave he threw open the massive top ai the box. As it swung up, we aU three spran- back, I with my pistol leveUed, and the carpenter with the hammer above his head. Then, as nothin^ happened, we each took a step forward and peeped in. The box was empty. H Not quite empty either, for in one corner was lying an old yellow candlestick, elaborately engraved, which appeared to be as old as the box itself. Its rich yeUow tone anii artistic shape suggested that it was an object of value. For the rest there was nothing more wei-hty or valuable tiian dust in the old striped treasure-chest. " Well, l'm blessed ! » cried AUardyce, staring blankly mto it. « Where does the weight %ae in, then ? ". 7 Look at the thickness of the sides and look at the lid. Why, it's five inches through. And see that great métal spring across it." " That's for holding the lid up," said the mate. " You see, it won't lean back. What's that German printing on the inside ? " ^ 1^ — ^^ means that^t was inadè hy Johanï Itothlteb"^^ Augsburg, in 1606." î,u-?Ài.i. tua.. i^ nf^: I '\t 226 A SHADOW BEFORE. But in finance there, is always the élément of Inck, which, however one may eliminate it, stiU remains, like the blank at roulette, a constantly présent handicap upon the operator. And so it was that Worlington „ Dodds had corne to grief. On the best advices he\ad dabbled in the funds of a South American EepubUc in the days before South American EepubUcs had been found out. The EepubUc defaulted, and Dodds lost his mone7. He had bulled the shares of a Scotch railway, and a four months' strike had hit him hard. I^e had •liBlped to underwrite a coffee company in the|' hope that the pubKc would come along upon the fe0d and gradually nibblefaway some of his holding, bht the^^ poUtical sky had been clouded and the pubÈc had refused to i^est. Everything which he had tUched had goufi/felg, and now, on the eve of his m^rriage, yoimg, ^-headed, and eneigetic, hé was actùally a bank^pt had his creditors chosen tQ make him one. Bufcthe Stock Exchange is an indulgent body. What M tihe case of one to-day may be that of anoiher to- Biorrow, and eveiy one.is interested in seeing that the stricken man is given time to rise again. So the burden of Worlington Dodds was lightened for him many shoulders helped to bear it, and he was able to gô for a Uttie summer tour into Ireland, for the doctors had ordered him rest and change of air to restore his ^skBk&a BCTyoag systenr. T huB it waa tBat' npon ISth of July. 1870, he found himself at his bieaifast in . ' ?K*.'>i*«?,* V ••i^v^fr^ gjf^^tT^'^rz f I $ A SHADOW BEFORE. 227 the fly-blown coffee-room of thé George Hôtel in the market square of Dunsloe. It is a duU and depressing coffee-room and one which is îisuaUy empty, but on this parti^lar day it was as crowded and noisy as that of any London hôtel. Every table was occupied, and a thiek smeU of fried bacon and of fish hung in the air. Heavily-booted men clattered in and ont, spurs jingled, riding-crops were stacked in corners, and there was a gênerai atmosphère of horse. The conversation, too, was of nothing else. From eveiy aide Worlington Dodds heard of yearlings, of wind- galls, of roarers, of spavins, of cribsuckers, of a hundred other tenus which were as unintelligible to him as his own Stock Exchange jargon would hâve been to the Company. He asked the waiter for the reason of it ail, and the waiter was an astonished man that there should be any one in this world who did not know it. -^ "Shure it's the Dunsloe horse fair, your honour-* the greatest horse-fair in. ail Oireland. It lasts for a wake, and the folk come from far an' near-from England an' Scotland an' iveiywhere. If you look out of the winder, your honour, you'll see the horses, and it's asy your honour's conscience must be, or you wouldn't slape so Sound that the cratures didn't rouse you with -their dattes" --^ Dodda had a recoUection that he had heard a con- fused murmur, which had interwoven itself with hia gim&^'4^!&JLi 228 A SHADOW BEPORE. dreams— a sort of steady rhythmic beating and clank- ing— and now, when he looked through the window, he saw the cause of it. The square was packed with lioraes moû. end to end— greys, bays, browns, blacks, chestnuts— young ones and old, fine ones and coarse, horses of every conceivable sort and size. It seemed a huge function for so small a tôwn, and he remarked as mueh to the waiter. "WelJ, you see, your honour, the horses don't live in the town, an' they don't vex their heads how small it is. But it's in the very centre of the horse-bradin' âistricts of Oireland, so where should they corne to be sould if it wasn't to Dunsloe ?" ^ The waiter had a telegram in his hand, and he turned the address to Worlington Dodds. Shure I niver heard such a name, sorr. Maybe you could tell me who owns it ? " • Dodds looked at the envelope. Strellenhaus was the name. ^*'^o, I don't know," said he. "I never heard it before. It's a foreigu name. Perhaps if you were " But at that moment a little round-faced, ruddy- cheeked gentleman, who was breakfasting at the next table, ieaned forward and interrupted him. "Did.you say a foreign name, sir ? " said he. ^Strellenhaus is tfie name." *M am Mr. Strellenhaus— Mr. Julius Strellenhaus il.' ■ II • M àifliàsii' Jt'^fAf . > M -'vV' A* S- spw* À SHADOW BEFORE. «pw« 229 of Liverpool. I was expecting a telegram. Tbank you very much." He sat 80 near thaï Dodds, without any wish to play the spy, could not help to some extent overlooking him as he opened the envelopo. The message was a very long one. Quite a wad of melon-tinted paper came out from the tawny envelope. Mr. Strellenhaus arranged the sheets methodically upon the table-cloth in front of him, 80 that no eye but bis own could see them. Then he took out a note-book, and, with an anxious face, he began to make entries in it, glancing first at tho telegram and then at the book, and writing apparentl/ one letter or -figure at a time. Dodds was interested, for he knew exactly what the man was doing. He was working out a cypher.^ Dodds had often done it him- self. And then suddenly the little man tumed very pale, as if the full purport of the message had been a shock to him. Dodds had done that also, and bis ^ sympathies were ail with his neighbour. Then the stranger rose, and, leaving his breakfast untasted, ho walked out of the room. " l'm thinkin' that the gintleman bas had bad news, sorr," said the confidential waiter. "Looks like it," Dodds answered; and at that momeat liis thoughts were "^suddenly drawn off into jtao^ier directio n. . - The boots had entered the room with a telegram in his hand. ,i,^l ^ ^^i^tk.4f i'bâ^^^^i ■i^i'itfiiitmaèxi'ii^ijf-*--.''*^^ f'Wi -.„*î^->' .t.'". . f^t-riyi -f^ f 230 SHADOW BEFORË. " Where's Mr. Mancune ? " said he to the iaiter. "WeW, there are some quare names about. What was it you said ? " ' /' Mr. Mancune," said the boots, glancing round him' "Ah, there he is!" and he handed the telegram to à gentleman who was sitting reading the paper in a corner Dodds's eyes had abeady fallen upon tJiis man and he had wondered vaguely what he was doing in such Com- pany. He was a taU, white-hairèd, eagl^nosed gentle- man, with a waxed moustache and a càrefuUy pointed beard~an aristocratie type which seemed out of its élément among tl^e rougU hearty, noisy dealers who sj^ounded him. This, then, was Mr. Mancune; for whom the second telegram "was intended. As he opened it, tearing it open with a feverish haste, Dodds could perceive that it was as bulky as the fii^t one. He observed also, from the delay in readina it,tha^it was also in some sort ofcypher. The gentle" man did not write down any translation of it, but he sat for some tima with his nervous, thin fingers twitch- ing amongst the hairs of his white bèaid, and his shaggy brows bent in the deepest and most absorbed attention whUst he mastered the meaning of it Then he sprang suddenly to his feet, his eyes flashed his cheeks flushed, and in h|s excitement he crumpled the message up in his Wd. With an effort he mastered J^otion.j)U^4he pa p er i n W I d a p o cketrimd wàlke J~- out of the room. . . #. VéMt., Sl.^ • 'm. Jto^ ttull>tjL...JLl. *i_ «.itr^ ^» mm' ^(p*'*'''*!#'^^É^ A SHADOW BEPORB. 231 ''JPP This was enough to excite a less astute and imagin'a- tive man than WorUngton Dodds. Was there any connection between thèse two messages, or was it merely a coincidence ? Two men with strange nanjes recèive two telegrams within a féw minutes of each other, each of a considérable length, çach in cypher, \ and each causing keen émotion to the man who receiraf . it. One turned pale. The other sprang excitedly to his feet. It might be a coincidence, but it was a very curions one. If it was not à coincidence, then what coulait mean? Were fchey confederates'who prètended to work apart, but who each receiVed identical orders from somé person at a distance ? That was possible, and yet there werë difilculties in ^e w^y. «He puzzled and puzzledi but coi^ld find no satisfactory solution to the problem. Ali breakfast he was turning it over in his mind. When breakfast was over he.saipiterèd ont into the market squaxe, where.the horse salô was already in progress. The yearlings were being sold first— tall, long-legged, skittish, wild-eyed créatures, who had run free upon the upland pastures, with;ragged hair and towsey mânes, but hardy, ^ured to ail weathers, and with the makings df spl^ndid hunters and steeple- chasers when ôom and time had brought them to mainiwy, *û®y were lai^ely of thoroughbied hlood, — and were being bought by English dealers, who would invest a few pounds now on what they might sell foy û ^i-L ï «..( Ssiu ■ J'< iM *• 232 A SDADOW BEFORE. fifty «uiheae in a year. if ail went ,velL ft waa c^atH,», he 13 ai&oted with aany ailments, the lea«t --dent »ayde.t„,yhi,,,,„e,h. i, a cer^ ^Ij^,' «nd aauncertain profit, and for'one who cornes Zw ^ «y -tarai may bring no returu at ail sT£ • Englishhorse dealer jook their risks as they Z2 f- and a yeU„wover«.t L Z 7i^.tl"^l a» much sa^froùl a, if they had been LgesTllt eachba^ininabloa.«dWbook. He b^^^'ÏJ Who is that ? " he mVp^i Kio «• • i.u iitj asKea ius neighbour whosA Qn««, and gaite» d.owed that he was Hkety to W ''^™ ^^ The^^an sta.d, in astoniabn^ent at the s;.ange.s a.d he; then, seeing by the blank look upon DodZ'a face that even thia information had not^elpTw HoUoway and Morland, of London," said he. "hJ, the buymg partner, and he bûya cheap ; and the other Btays at home and aeUa, and he aella dear. H IL ' more hor,ea than any man in the world, and JCZ bestmoneyforthem. I da.. »y you'U find thaÏf^ what axe so d at the Dunsloe fair thi. day .iu^^' mm. and hft's ««f «.,^1, ., . *^ "* g« W) him, and h.', gpt auçh a i.„... ^"^ uy wm gp to ^ j.n« goc sucùapui-se that there's nota man who can bid awflinof 1.;^ ». '^ ** ™"^ who can bid against him." î?- 4 ' i i f *■->*■ ■■t é ^i-^-* A'^î i?is«,<,?; vv^àitW. >y. A SHADOW BEFORB. 233 Worlù.gton Dodds watched the doings «f the great • dealer with inteiest. He had passed on now to the but sWI a httle loose in the limb and weak in the bone. He London bnyer was choosing^his animais carefully, but having chosen them. the Tigoar of his compétition drove ail other bTdders out of it. Witha .careles, nod he would ran the figure „p five pounds at a tune, u^tU he waa left in possess^bn of the field. At *e «.me time he was a shrewa\»erver, and when. as happenedmore than once, he Mieved that some one : ''«^ b'dd-ng against him simply in order to mn him «P, the head woald cease suddenly to nod, the note- book wou^d be clo^ed with a snap, and the intruder would be left with a pu„hase which he did not désire npon his hands. AU Dodds's business instincts were a^used by the tacUcs of this great ope«tor, and he s tood ^ the crowd watching with the utmost intere^ ail that occurred. ^ It i. not to buy young torses, however, that the g««t dealers corne to Ireland, and the real bnsiness of the fiur comm^ced when the four and flve-year-olds S^Lr!!!^' '^ ■ l^'-'faoughtdownbAlv ^^r eedor,»com fortabfe. lootog,keen-eyed.?iai: oheeked genUeman who stood beside the saLmant, whispered cautions and precepts into his ear / Sk^^Ut t, ^•'"^ j^l t. M e^ ,» "(KC r'"^'*-"* 234 A SHADOW BEPORE. ^ " That's Flynn of Kildare," said Dodds's infonnant. "Jack Flynn has brought down that sta-uig of horses, aùd the other large string over yonder belongs to Tom Flynn, his broth|r. Jlte two of them together are the two first fâfeeders in Ireland." A crowd had gathered in front of the horaes. By common consent^ a place had been made for Mr. HoUowa/. and Dodds could catch a glirapse of hù florid face and yellow covert-coat in the front rank. He had opened his note-book and waa tapping his teeth reflectively with his pencU aa he eyed the horses. "tou'll see a fight.now between the first seller and the first buyer in the country," said Dodds's acquaint- ance. "They are a beautiful string, anyhow. l' shouldn't be surprised if he didn't average five-and- thirty pound apiece for the lot as they stand." ^ The salesman had mounted upon a chair, and his ^®®°' ^'^^^^a-face overlooked the crowd. Mr. Jack Mynn's grey whiskers were at his elbow, and Mr. Holloway immediately in front. "YouVe seen thèse horses, gentlemen," said the salesman, with a backward sweep of his hand towards the line of tossing heads and streaming mânes. " When you know that they are bred by Mr. Jack Flynn, at his place in Kildare, you will have a guarantee of their quaUty. They are the best that Ireland càn p r od nce , ^4ia ^is^ cl as s of h o ree the be sTthst^ eland — J'?'^' can produce are the best in the world, as eveiy riding V *.!>' ,-Md>, , Jf&ft^ o'^^,* - w ) ■ / ■■ ■ ' . . A SHADOW BEFOBE. . 235 man knows weU. Hunte.« or carnage hones ail w.r»»ted Sound and b..d fr„n. the bosMtock n^" WdZtho J.T"''"'''^ dealer would make one^ M to the whole lot. to sa^ time, he wo„M hâve the préférence oyer any purchaser." in front, with soïne expressions of discont««f W rÏ --^ f «>« -a-l aeale. hadt: ^ o?»; «. I was on^y a long pnrse which could buy on "„ch l,^.;:.'"''- ^''-^-- looked rld S "Corne, Mr. HoUoway," said he, at kst. "You didnt corne oyer hère for the sake of tb„ J^.ay trayez the oonnt, and ^seltrrZ stnngofhorses. Give us a starting bid " los^nf^'a;^^' ^"" '^ """^^ ''^ ^-« -i»» "WeD," said he, at hst, «U,ey are i fiha lof „f ' Jo^.andI^n-tdenyl, TheA„,„ttditJ nynn. I am su«. AU the same. I didn't mean ^ ffl a slup at , ^^, bid in this fashion. I liket pS and choose my horses." ' ^ "In that case Mr "Plvrin ;« ^ v tten. in sn.aUer S '^ 1 ^ ^"^^ *" "" mther for tk. " 1... "^ ?"' ^^■^- "" «m mther for UM,-con«nleZ J T. "^ ^,.r "» ««nramencB oTa wESTesale customOT tt«thewaspreparedtoputthen.aUupt<«ether. ^ " no gentleman wishes to bid . " ■jM" .fï'fl ^XÉsSài-i:. ■ û !• iTrf ? -iîè" ^Jl 'ftb d ifiifA V -If- i^l»?f'f ^ mv*; ^ . . J^&w>,^à^^, rfiw--'- A SHADOW BEFORE. 237 ^ I was London again^t Liverpool, aud it Was the ûead of the tradè against an outsider. Still, the one man had increased his bids by fives and the other only by ones. Those fives meant détermination and also wealth. Holloway had ruled the market so long that the crowd was ddighted at finding some one who would stand up to him. " The bid now stands at thirty pounds a head." said the salesman. " The word lies with you, Mr. Holloway " The London dealer was glancing keenly at his un- known opponent, and he was asking himself whether this was a genuine rival, or whether it was a device of some sort-an agent of Flynn's, perhàps-for running up the priée. Little Mr. StreUenhaus, the same apple- , faoed gentleman whom Dodds had noticed in the coffee- room, stood looking at the horses with the sharp, quick glanées of a man who knows what he is looking for "Thirty-one," said Holloway, with the air of a man who has gone to his extrême limit. " Thirty-two," said StreUenhaus, promptly. ^ Holloway^grew angry at this persistent opposition. His red face flushed redder still. K " Thirty-three ! " he shouted. " Thirty-four," said StreUenhaus. Holloway became thoughtful, and entered a few - o — ^, ""V* ou toi eu a lew ^ures lu. his uol^-book. There Were seventylËoKër He knew that ilynn's stock was always of the highest quaUty. With the hunting season coming on he • ^'iâS^ïiia. .'.,■ •".'■i^ïr'i^fj^ '-'\ 238 \\ A SHADOW BEFORE.' might rely upon seUing them at an average of frora toTty-ûve to fifty. Some of them might cany a heavy weight and would run to three figures. On the other hand, there was the feed and keep of them for three months, the danger of the voyage, the chance of mfluenza or some of those ofcher complaints which run through an entîre stable as measles go through a nursery. Deducting ail this, it was a question whether at the présent price any profit would be left upon the transaction. Eveiy pound that he bid meant seventy out of his pocket. And yet he could not submit t« be beaten by this stranger wltho^fe a stmiggle. As a business matter it was impor^t |p him to b? recog- ni2^ as the head of his prôl^esM; He would make one more effi^rt if he sacrifi(^i J^fit by doing so. "At the end of your rope^^Js^way ? » asked the salesman, with the suspicion of à^gpr. " Thirty.five," cried HoUoway, grufflyl "Thirty-six," said Strellenhaus. "Then I wish you joy of your bai^ain," said HoUoway. «I don't buy at that price, but I should be glad to sell you some." Mr. Strellenhaus took no notice of the irony He was stiU looking critically at the horses. The salesman glanced round him in a perfunctory way. "Thirty-six pounds bid," 314 he. "Mr. Jack Hyntf Slot IrgSï^WTffr. Slfellenhaus of Hveipoo; at thirty-six pounds a head. Going—goiug " '• ' " ^^ ,4 • l Mi he ad -%- Str spn Mj .^Kk-^t N\ r"w* ' ^ •* SHADOW BEEOBR 239 " ^""■'y ' " <^^ a Ugh, thin, clear voice. ' tipl'l-T '""' "' """"■ "'■' "«'y«" "^ on b!^^A*^° *" """'' ' «""'l»^ "f «^ "««es* Mh^^m * **" """■' ^'^''' ~«l'J 8ee ovft th« ^ ^^^B*«' at the aide of HoUowayke sawthe .^V^ «"d anstocratio beaid cfethe second ^ added itself to the .cène. He feit It he waa on (ie verge of «.methiDg-.on.ething dimly «een- wh,chhecouldhim,elftnmto.cco«.t. TheLmen :..! ur^gT:-/"^ '^'^'' «"^ "---''- iSh^r^ '" ''^'^«- ^'--thebestdeal wlndjhe had ever n,ad.^ fifty.y«^ „, "Mr. Mancnne." Mdreas?" . . «•• Mancune oreiasgow." he^ bas been bid by Mr. Mancnne of GlLgZ Zy advance upon forty ? " ^ "Forty-one, said Strellenhaus. " ^orty-five/' said Mancune. t^t!rt^^ °^ i. w tb.^^ S^Ueahana now u> advance byone,, wbUe hfal", «prangnpbyfive.. But the former was as dogged asever. i/é ^-^ s *>... V ■» -V # ■ r.i ■! "y < t V "" ' I ÏV! .y s «9» 240 A SHADOW BEFORE. " Forty-six," said Le. - " Fifty ! " cried Mancune. It was unheard of. The most that the horses could possibly average at a retail piswe was as much as thèse men wefe willing to pay Wholesale. " Two lunatics from Bedlam," whispered the angry Holloway. " If I was Flynn I would see the colour of their money befbre I went any furtherr The same thought had occurred to the salesmîn. "As a mère matter of business, gentlemen," said he, ■ "it is usual in such cases to put down a small deposit as a guarantee of honafides. You will understand how* I am placed, and that I hâve not had the pleasure of doing^hsiness with either of you before." " How much ? " asked Strellenhaus, briefly. " Should we sa^ five hundred ? " " Hère is a note for a thousai\d pounds." "^d%ere is another," said Mancune. "î^thing could be more handsome, gentlemen," said the salesman. " It's a treat to see such a «pirited com- pétition. The last bid was fifty pounds a head from Mancune. The word lies with you, Mr. Strellenhaus." Mr. Jack Flynn whispered something to the sales- man. # "Quite so ! Mr. Flynn ^iggests, glnt^men, that as „.you|re botih large buyers^ i t wou ld, perhaps, be a con^iL, venience to you if he was to add the string of Mr. Tom , IjFlynn^hich consists of seventy animais of precisely ■vif i»,;,- ^' V, vi»»- ^#., .. ,» A SHADOW BEFORE. 241 the same quality, making one hundred and forty in ail. Havo you any objection JVIr. Mancune ? " "No, sîr."' . ** "And you, Mr. Strellenhaus ?" " I should prefer it." " Veiy handsoniD ! Very handsome indeed ! " mur- mured the salesman. " Then I understand, Mr. Man- cune, that your oflfer of fifty pounds a head extends to the whole of thèse horses ? " . "Yes, sir." A long breath went up from the crowd. Seven thousand pounds at one deal. It was a record for Dunsloe. »"Any advance, Mr. Strellenhaus ? " "Fifty-one." "Fifty-five." "Fifty-six." " Sixty." They could hardly believe their ears. Holloway stood with his mouth open, staring blankly in front of him. The salesman tried hard to look as if such bidding»and such prices were nothing unusual. Jack Flynn of Kildare smiled benignly and rubbed his hands together. The crowd listened in dead silence. " Sixty-one," said Strellenhaus. From the beginning face, like a little automatic figure which bid by clock- work. His rival was of a more excitable nature. Hia B 'i«i'W ■1 w ", , I 242 A SHADOW BEFORB. c_ eyes were shining, and he was for ever twitching at his beard. "Sixty-five/'hecried. "Sixty-six." "Seventy." But the clockwork had run down. No answering bid came from Mr. Strellenhaus. " Seventy bid, &ir." , Mr. Strellenhaus shrugged his shoulders. "(I am buying for another, and I hâve reached his lirnit," said he. "If you will permit me to send for instructions " " I am afraid, sir, th»t the sale must procèed." " Then the horses belong to this gentleman." For the first time he turned towards his rival, and their glances crossed like sword-blades. " It is possible that I may see the horses again." " I hope so," said Mr. Mancune ; and his white, waxed moustache gave a féline upward brisfcle. So, with a bow, they separated. Mr. Strellenhaus walked dbwn to the telegraph-office, where his message was delayed because Mr. Worlington Dodds was abeady at the end of the wires, for, after dim guesses and vague conjecture he had suddenly caught a clear view of this coming event which had cast so curions a shadowbefore it in this little Irish town. Political rumeurs, names. ^ ppe a r ai ic es > t e l e gr a iy si^ goasonod boraea^^rfha^ yrice^ there could only be one meaning to it. He held a secret, and he meant to use it. m. 0^ A SHADOW BEFORE. 243 Mr. Warner, who waslie partner of Mr. Worlington «Dodds, and who was suffering fronZ the same eclTpse l^d gone down to the Stock ExchanV, but had found little congélation there, for the European system was in a ferment, and rumours of peace and of war were succeeding each other with such rapidity and assurance that it wa$ impossible to know which to ' trust. It was obvious that a fortune lay either way, %everyrumour set the funds fluctuating; but without specirf information it was impossible to act, and no one dared to plunge heavily upon the strength of news- paper. surmise and the gossip of the street. Warner knewthatan hour's work might resifecitate the fallen fortunes of himsçlf and his partner, and yet he could not afford Jo make a mistake. He returnéd to hi^«^ce in the aftemoon, half inclined to back the cha^^f peace, for of éi war-scares not one in ten comes to pass. As he entered the office a telegram lay upon the table. It was fronf Dunsloe, a place of which he had never heard, and was signed by his absent partner. The message was El cypher, but he soon translated it, for it was short and crisp. "I am a b'ear of everything German and French. Sell, sell, sell, keep on selling." For a moment Warner hesitated. What could ^^^^^J^^^^ ^y^ ^^JP^P^^oe which waa nnl; ,' ^nown in Throgmortoli Street} But he remembered the quickness and décision of his partner. He would / 244 A SHADOW BEFORE. not hâve seut such a message without very gobd grouûds. If he was to act at ail he must act at once, ao. hardening his heart, lie went down to the house, and, dealing upon that'curiç)us System by which a man-can sell wliat he has not got, and what he could not pay for if he had it, he disposed of heavy parcels of French and German securities. He had caught the market in one of its little spasms of hope, and there was no lack of buying until his own persistent selling caused others to follow his lead, and so larought about a réaction. When Warner returned to his offices it took hlm some hours to work ont his accounts, and he emerged into the Streets in the evening with the absolute certainty that the next settling-day would leave him either hopelessly bankrupt or exceedingly prospérons. It ail depended uponWorlington Dodds' information. What could he possibly hâve found ont at Dunsloe ? And then sudden^jy he saw a newspaper-boy fasten a poster upon a lamp-post, and a little crowd had gathered round it in an instant. One of them waved his hat in the air; another shouted to a friend across the street. Warner hurried up and caught a glimpse of the poster between two craning heads — "France déclares Wae on Germany." « By Jove ! " cried Warner. " Old Dodds was right, ^ter ail." »t it > ê f THE KING OF fUE FOXES It was after a huiiting dinner, and there were as many scarlet coats as black ones round the table. The con- versation over the cigars had turned, therefore, in the direction of horses and horsemen, with réminiscences of phénoménal runs Tvhere foxes had led the pack from end to end of a county, and been overtaken at last by two or three lipiping hounds and a huntsman on foot, ' while every rider in the field had been pounded. As thë port circulated 'the runs became longer and more apocryphal, until we had th^iips inqniring their way ffft ^'^ling to understand t^Sîalect of the people who fnswered them. The foxes, too, became more eccentric. and w#had foxes up pollard^illows, fox^s which were drjgged ^thé tail out of Srses*" mangers, and foxes which had raced througl^ open front dc^^d gone to ground in a lady's bonnet-box. The m^K had t(W one or two tall réminiscences, and when he' cléa^phis throat for another we were ail curions, for he was a bit of an artist in his way and produced his effects in a erescendo. faah i o iu'Hia f ac e wo re t h e èam cst , pràcti é aV * severeiy accurate expression which heralded some of his finest effprts. 245 '*^j^^^^. J ^iKt^t^ ' LLi::& J- < 246 THE, m " ^* ^'^^^^^fSif ^3 mëîêT," said he. ' " Sir (^les Ada^lfâ^the, hmini^ at^at ^e, and ^feÉÉJfeï^lUxïs passed^o old feH|p^ï^|^^^fc ^ay isibly hâve been just ff^ï^at^ Sife't&â ovér, ^^. ^°° impression is* ÉfeOt^ wàs in Adair's Tïat would be early.J^ the seventiea— about -two, I should say. ^ " , le mah I mean bas mé$id to another part of the couutiy, but I dare say that %e of you can remembet Jïiim. Danbury was the nan|— Walter Danbury, or Wat Danbury, as the people us^. to caU him. He was the soJ of old Joe Danbury, ^f High Ascombe, and when his father died he came into a very good thing, for his only brothér was drowned when the Ma^na Çharta iéundered, so he inherited tlm^ whole estate. It was but a few hundred acres, but it was good arable iandr and those were the great days of farming. Besides. it was freehold, and a yoeman farmer with- out a mortgage was a warmish man before the great fall in wheat came. Foreign wheat and barbéd wire— those are the two ourses of spôils the farmer's wprk and ^' This young Wat D rider, and thofôugh Te tur^ed at having cpmfortable fortune, and Iwo. The lad had no v^pe in drinking set in t^e neighb country, for the one ler spoils his'play. . very fine fellow, a , but his head was^a hen so young, into a le pace for a year ot^ ■s*»^.-- ■•■■»-■: ^ >jit there was a hard- at that time, and '^^ liip^ .. m f *. f^ '* s ■ V-Ç3 ^^ f^ THE KINa OP THE FOXES. 247 Danbuiy got drawa in among them; and, being an amiable feUow who liked to do what his fi^iends were doing, he very soon took to drxnking a great deàl more than was good for him. As a rule, a man who takes his exercise may drink as tnuçh as he Ukes in the evening, and do himself no veiy great harm, if he will leave it alone during £he day. Danbury hàd too many friends for that, however, and it really lookeà as if the poor chap was„going-^to the bad, when a very curions thing happened which pulled him up with such a sudden jw^f that he never put his hand upon the neck of a )vhisky bottle again. " He had a peculiarity which I hâve noticed in a . good many other men, that thou^ he was always playing tricks with his own health, he was none the less very arixious about it, and was extremely fidgety if ever he had any trivial symptoin. Being a tough, dpen- air fellow, who was always as hard as a nail, it was. seldom that there was any thing amiss with him; but at lie drink began to tell, and he woke one morning ^l^itidiis hands shaking and ail his nérves tingling like overstretc^çd fiddle-strings. I^e hM been dining at some v^ wet i)use t|e;mghfe before, and the wine had, per- hapg, beën more pjentif ul than choice ; at any rate, there he wqft isrith a «&ngue like a bath-towel and a head that uvjLcu ixB.fx^a. tiigub|€iay ciocK^ ue^was very alarmed^t"^ his own co8clitijai|andî|ie éèfat for Doctor Middleton, of Ascombe, thé fatherW tfeé man who practises ther« now. J ^) i- 248 THE KINQ OF THE FOXES. " Middleton had been a greafe friend of old Danbury's an'd he was very sorry to se^his son going to the devil ' so he improvaa the occasion by taking his case veiy* seriously, and llecturing him upon Uq danger of his ways. He shook his head and talked about the possi- bility of deîinum tremens, or even of mania, if he continued to lead such a life. Wat Danbuly was horribly.frightened. " 'Do you think I am going to get anything of the sort?'hewailed. Well, reaHy, I don't Uow,' said the doctor, gravely 'I cannot imdertake to say that you are out of danger. Your System is very much ont of order. At any time during the d"ay yon might hâve tho|e grave symptoms of which I wam you.' "* You think I shall be safe by evening ? ' " " 'H you drink nothing during the day, and We no nervous symptoms before evening, I think you may • consider yourself safe,' the doctèr answered. A littlè fngh^ ^^ould, he thought, do his patient good, so he made the most of the matter. \ What symptoms may I expect ?' asked Danbury. * " nt generally takes the form of optical delusions.' "'Iseespecksfloating ail -about." ^ ^^ "'That is meré biUousness,' said the doctor sootf- mgly, for he sawjhat the lad waa highly strung and he ^dnotwishto ôverdolt. ^ I dare say that you wiU hâve no symptoms of the kind, but when they do come 'm^ k I } THE KINŒ OP THE POXES. v. 249 they usually take the shape of insects, or reptiles, or curious animais.' And if I see anything, of the kind ? ' " ' If you do, you wiU at once send for me; ' and 8o, witlra promise of medicine, the doctor departed. " Young Wat Danbury rose and dressed and moped about the room feeling very misérable and unstrung with a vision of fhe County Asylum for ôver in his mind. He had the doctor's word for iyhajfc if he could get through to evening in safety he wold be ail right \ but it is not very exhilaratin^ to be waitifflfer symp] toms, and to keep on glancing at your bo^4 to seel whether it is still a bootjack or whether it has begim to) develop antennœ and legs. At last he could stand it no 1 longer, and an overpowering longing fbr the fresh air \ and the green grass came over him. Why should he stay indoors when the Ascombe Hijnt was meeting within half a mile, of him ? If he -^l|^^g to hâve thèse delusions which the doctor talked of, he would not hâve thera the sooner nor the worse because he was on horseback in the open. He was sure, too, it would ease hig aching head. And so it came about that in ten minutes he was in his hunting-kit, and in ten more he was riding out of his stable-yard with his roan mare Matilda between his knees. He was a little unsteady Jaiis^ sa^l^^jas^^^^firet, but the^arffiëf W weSFlhT^ better he felt, uj^il bj^the time he reached the meet his head %ras nlmoal Êkr. amfethere Was nothing troubliij^ \ -jife- ;r *& '"W '•'\ t 25Q THE KINQ ÔP THE FOXES. him exc^|ii|!8PTOintk^ words of the doctor's about the j^ssibility of délusions any time before niglj^fall. " But soon he forgot that also, fq?: as he camelp the hounds were thrown off, and they drew the Grave! Hanger and afterwards the Hickory Copse. It was just the morning for a scent-no wind to blow it a\^, no water to wasji it out, and just damp enoiçh to make it cling. Th^TQ was a field of forty, aU\eetf men and good riders, so when they came jîîthe Black, IÎ%ger they knew that there wduld be some sport, for thatta cover which never draws blank. The woods werethickl in those days than noW, and the foxes were thicker ali,, and tha^eat dark oak-grove was sw#ming with them. The only'iifficulty 4ks to make them break, for it is. J^ 3# kno^, a very câose country, and you must coax î them out into the open bqfore you can hope for a run. > ^^^When th|j capie J|^. the Black Hanger the fièld ' (iW)k their posîMons^ijJong the ^ver-^de wherever they ■ thought that ^g^^ere most likej^ljo get a good start. S<5iriè wjiiû with ihe hoimds, some clustered at the ^ehds of liPdriles, and some kept outside in the hope of the & breaking in thàt direction. Young Wat * Danbury knew the country like the palm of his hànd, * so he made for a place where several drives intersectéd, aSid there< he waited. He had a feeling that the faster ^^^}^^ ^ ^ ^^^^^^J'^^QPgJ t^Q ^^'ter he should be. and ^-^ 11**1^»" '>' Sf'îï*' 1"! "è:-. «w^* % » so he was chafîng to be off. His mare, too, was in the height of fettle and one of the fastest goers in the fV."^ % ik '^%: THE KING OF THE POXES. 251 county. Wat was a splendid light-weight rider- tinder ten stone with his saddle-and the mare was a powerfal créature, ail quartei^ and shoulders, fit to carryaa lifeguardsman ; and sd it was no wonder that there was hardly a man in the fi^d who could hope to stay with him. There he waited and listened to the shouting of the huntsman and the whips, catchin« a gUmpse now and then in the darkness of the>od°of a whisking tail, or the gleam of a white-and-tan side amongst the underwood. It was. a weU-trained pack and there was not so much as a whine to tell you that forty hounds were working aU round you. "And then suddenly there came one long-drawn yell from one of them, and it w^ taken up by another, and another, until within a few seconds the whole pack was giving tongue t«gether and i^^g on a hot «cent. Danbjiry saw them stream ac$os|^e of the drives and disappear upon the other side, and an instant later the three red coats of the hunt-servants flashed after them upon the same line. He might hâve made a shorter eut down one of the other drives, but he was afraid of heading the fox, so he followed the lead of the hunts- man; Eight through the wood they went in a bee-line gaUoping with their faces brushed by their horses' mânes as they stooped unde r the branches. Ifs ugly ^uiug, a« you know, with the roots "ail wriggUng about m the darkness, but you can,- take a ri^Jc when you catch an occasional glimpse of the pack running with a ■m^- M. h*** .^^a^ -M i^-. SN 252 THE KINO OP THE FOXES. breast-Ligh scent ; so in aud out they dodged, until the wood began to thia at the edges, and they foiind them- sel ves in the long bottom where the river runs. It is clear going there upon grassland, and the houndg were run- ning very strong about two hundred yards ahead, keeping parallel with the stream. The field, who had corne round the wood instead of going through, were coming'' hard over the fields upon the left ; but Danbury, with the hunt-servants, had a clear lead, and they never lost it. Two of the field got on terms with them : Parson Geddes on a big seventeen-hand bay which he used to ride in those days, and Squire Foley, whb rode as a feather- weight, and made his hunters out of cast thoroughbreds from the Newmarket sales ; but the others never had a look-in from start to finish, for there was no check and no pulling, and it was clear cross-country racing from start to finish. If you had drawn a Une right across the map with a pencil you couldn't go strai^ter than that fox ran, headiijg for the South Downs aiid the sea ; and the hounds ran as surely as if they were runnin» to view, and yet from the beginning no one ever saw the fox, and there was never a hallo forrard to tell them that he had been spied. This, however, is not so sur- prising, for if you've been over that Une of country you will know that there are not very many people about. "There were six of them then in the front row: Parson^êddês, Squire Foley, the huntsman, two whips, and Wat Danbury, who had forgotten ail about his £ t £ l J i ■#v ■ " ■*#"'" THE KING OP THE FOXES. 253 head and the doctor by this time, and had not a thought for anything but the run. Ail six were galloping just as hard as they could lay hoofs to the grôu»d. One of the whips liropped back, however, as soine of the hounds were tailing off, and that brought them down to five. Then Foley's thoroughbred strained herself, as thèse slim-legged, dainty-fetlocked thorough- breds will do when the goîng is rough, and he had to take a back seat. But the other four were still going strong, and they did four or five miles down the river flat at a ra&ping pace. It had been a ^et winter, and the waters had been out a little time before, so there was a deal of sliding and splashing ; but by the time they came to the bridge the whole field was out of sight, and thèse four had the hunt to themselves. " The fox had crossed the bridge— for foxes do not care to swim a chilly river any more than humans do — and from that point he had streaked away southward as hard as he could tear. It is broken country, rolling heat^^^down one slope and up another, and it's hard to sÉr w^her the up or the down is the more trying for 5rses. This sort of switchback work is ail right for a cobby, short-backed, short-legged little horse, but it is killing work for a big, long-striding hunter such as one wants in the Midlands. Anyhow, it was too much for Parson Geddes' sev entêen-hand bay, and, tkough he trie d^ the Irish trick — for he Was a rare keen sportsman — of run- ning up the hills by his horse's head, it was ail to np usq, 254 THE^KING OP THE POXES. T ,.;*•-* and he had to give it up.« So then there was only the buntsman, the whip, and Wat Danbuiy^-all going strong. " But the country got worse and worse, and the hills were steepc^ and more thickly covered in heather and bracken.. The horses were over their hocks ail the time, and the place was pitted with rabbit-holes : Ûkt Jhe hounds wej-e still streamifig along, and the jiders could^ot afford to pick their steps. As they raced down one slope, the hounds were always flowing ^p the opposite one, until it looked lik§ t^at game where thê one figure in falling makes the other onè>is^. B^t nev^r a glimpse did they get of the fox, although tlj^y ^p&w very well that he must be only a very short Way al^ead"^ foj.- the scent to lie sb strong. And then Wa^ât^uty heàrd a cr^h and fi thud at hîs elbow, and Mng y^round he saw a pai«' of white cords and toprbobtg Èîcï?*' ing out of a tussocè of brambles. The whip's' horse had stumbted, and the whip was ont of the' runnîng, Danbury and the hu^tsman eased dot^n for *n instant; and then, seeing the man ^aggering to bis feet^ll right, , they tumed and settled into .their saddl*s once nwye. ,/ " Joe Clarke, the^huntsman, was a famous old ryjilr, known for five counties round^; but ^e/eckoned u|on . bis second horse, and the second horses had ajl bfeen left many miles behind.- HoweVe^ the one he 4as jidfng ^was good enougli for any4jjbft'w}th sucb a horseman np o n h i a %aek, ^d^be wt B Sg tHag ta wglhw wfaeir lia;^ -started. As tp Wat DaflJ)ury, 'be t^as goîng bêtt^i-. ' V-.- /:: il j» .' -.'. '• -v V-.- THE KING OF THE FOXES. 255 ,^ With every stride his .own feelings improved, and the m|nd of the rider has its influence ùpôn the mind of the horse. The stout little roan was gatberiog its. mus(^ùlar limbs under it and stretching to the gallop as if it ^ere steel and whal^çbone instead of flesh and blood. Wat had never corne to the end of its powers ,yet, and to-day hé liad such a (j^auce of testing them as he had never had before. " There was a pasture country beyond the ht»ftthe«^„: ' slopes, and for several miles theHwo riders were eitheï*' losing ground as they fumbled \vith their erop-handles at the bkrs of- gâtes, or gaiuing it again as i\wy galloped over the fields. tJhose were the days béfore this acciu'sed wire came into the country, and you could g^\«MirtUv breakahedge whete .you could uot Hv U. ho they did uot trouble the gâtes* mov^^ tUi\^\ (Ut\v ovuiM help. Theu t they were doraj vu a hard laue, whew tkvy htwl to slac^en -their ^ee, and through « (\tv»u wheiv a umu , came shquting êxcitedly »UWv th.Mufbut thV had nô •tlme to stop and list^Mi tv^ Ivim, Tov tlu^^^unds wet» on f9$ ■ soiaé ploughland, ouly two flcUU ahead. It was dogng upwards, that ploughkud, «ud tS fibi-ses wero oyer* .^' ■ their fetloclis i^ Oie red, ^oft soi!. ^^,4^^ ^ohed ^^^ 4^ ^ Hhe top they '4re. bîmving badly. but a'^ud'vapejfi • sloped before them, 1^'Dlin^ up \iiv# ^ -ï70oa% ïntô W^ the Jiojands wew^^„lug, ranning Do,w in flong, élrajggïïng Une ani\ «liedl^ (^è hew aud V 1 .-^ il ♦'^ #,' *■ •"■;^f ' ■'.' ■' . ^"ït." 256 THE KING OF THE FOXES. one there as they ran. You coald see the wtote-and- tan dots hère and there where the limpers were tailing away. But half the pack were still going well, though. the pace and distance had both been tremendous — two clear houra now without a check. "There was a drive through the pinewood— one of those green, slightly-rutted drives where a horsiB can get the last yard out of itself, for the ground is hard enoiigh " to give him clean going and yet springy eno«gh to help him. Wat Danbury got alongside of the huntsman and they galloped together with their stirrup-irons tquching, and the hounds within a hundred yards of them. " ' We hâve it ail to ourselves/ sai^i he. " ' Yes, sir, we've shôok off the lot of 'em this time,' said old Joe Clarke. ' If we get this fox it's worth while 'aving 'im skinned an' stuffed, for 'e's a curiosity 'e is.' " * It's the fastest run, I ever had in my life ! ' cried Danbury. " ' And the fastest that ever I 'ad, an' that means more/ said the old. huntsman. 'But what licks me is that we've never 'ad a look at the beast. 'E must leave an amazin' 8cen|fe(;)e'iud 'Im when thèse 'ounds cftn follow 'm like wÊ, and yet none of us bave seen 'im, when we've 'ad Fclear 'alf rtiile view in front of us.' " ' I expect we'll hâve a View of him presently,' said Danbury ; and inHis mind htfadded, ' at least, I shall,' for ' * — f rhorse was psjllpg^Mtrïln, M^TlfiëwMtë _ < ïm was pouring dowp it like the sidç of a washing-tub. 1 1 ji-^«. • i . d ' <"*• ■,'''** K'^:^^^';l%^' ,.: THE KING OP THE FOXES. 257 " TLey kad foUowed the hounds on to one of, the side tracks which led out of the main drive, and that divided into a smaller track stil], where the branches swita&:à across their face? as they went and there wa* bar^ * room for one horse at a tirae. Wat Danbury took the lead, and he heard the himtsman's horse clumpiDg along heavily behind him, while his own mare was going with less spring than when she had started. She answered to a touch of his crop or spur, however, and he felt that l there was something still left to draw upon. And then he looked np, and there was a heavy wooden stile at the end of t^e narrow track, with a lane of stiff young sapHngs leading dôwn to it, which was far too thick to break through. The hounds were rimning clear upon the grassland on the other side, and you were bound either to get ov<^hat stile or lose sight of them, for the pace waa too hot to let' you go round. " Weli, Wat Danbury waa not the lad to flinch, and at it he went fulF s^lit, like a man who means what he is doing. She rose gallantly to it, rapped it hard with her front hoof, shook him on to her withers, recov. 258 TÉE KING OP THE FOXES. K horse's bridle. The horseltaggered up, but the moment it put one foot in. front of the other Wat saw that it " was hopelessly lame— a slipped shoulder and a six weeks' job. There was nothing he couH do, and Joe was shouting to him not to lose the hounds, so off he went ag?iîn, the one solitary survivor of the whole hunt. When a man ^nds himself there, he can retire from , fpx-hunting, for he bas tasted thehighest wbich it bas to offer. I remember once when I was out with the Royal Siirrey— but l'U tell you that story afterwards. "The pack, pr what was left of thôm, had got a bit ahead during this time; but he had a clear view of them on the dotwnland, and the mare seemed full of pride fit beîng the only oue left, for she was stepping out rarely and tossing her head a^ she went. There wet^ twp miles over tlje green shpulder of a hill, a ratt^e down a stony, deep-ruttôd cou^itry lano, where the mare stumbled and nearly came dowu, a jump ovér afivq-foot brook, a eut through a hazel copse, anoth§r dose of heavy ploughland, a couple of gâtes to 'op0n, and then the green, unbroken Downs beyond. * Well,' said Wat Danbury to himself, ' l'U sée tliis fox run into or I shftU see it drowned/for it's ail clear g^ing âow betweeç ihis aîid.the chalk elijBfs wbich line tii$ ««j».'- " But he wai^ wrong in that, as he gpeeciily diécovered. In a1^ the Uttl^TioUows of the j^owns at that part there / ^ : - ■■— „■ , _~ .. -_^. .- - --_,^~™ ,„ : _ . ...m^^ ■,„■ „■^,,.,- ..I.— ^l ■ ■■■i.-ii— ^. ,.. ■ .are pdantations of fir-woôdà, somp of w^ich hâve ^wit * « to a gqod size. - You do not see them vmUl ym mm . M. ' ■ ''^' ■ \ ■■ y^^-'" /' '..:./. ' ' ■■■^■■■>-' h< . -v-:--:-' THE KING OP THE FOXES. 259 y - iipon the edge of the valleys in which they lie. Dan- bury was galloping hard qver the short, springy turf when he came over the lip of one of thèse dépressions, and there was the dark clump of wood lying in front of , and beneath Mm. There weronirily a dozen hounds still running, and Êky were just disappearing amoug the trees. The sunlight was shining straight upon the long, oliv,e-greeil slopes which curved down to\^^s this wood, and Danbury, who ha flaa^iâd l^biMuÉi Ms mioj^ ^i^ (É^e had been ••# \t '-. -( 26a THE KINQ OP THE POXE0. some very singular points about thii run— its length and its straightness, and the fact that from the first find no one had ever^caught a gîimpse of the créature. Some silly talk which had been going round the coîmtry about the king of the Mtes— a sort of 4em6n fox, 80 fast that it couid;Outrun any pack, and so fierce that they could ;do notliîng with it if they overtook it— suddenly came back into his mind, and it did not seero 80 laughable now in the dim fir-wood as it had done when the story had been told over the wine and oigars. The nervQusness which had been on him in the morning, and which he had hoped that he had shaken ofif, swept over him again in an overpowering wave. He had heev 80 proud of being alone, and yet.he would hâve given ten pounds now to hâve had Joe Clarke's homely face beside him. And then, just at that moment, there broke out from the thickest part of the wood the most frantic hullaballoo that ever he had heard in his life. The hounds had run into their fox. ' " Well, you know, or you ought to know, what your duty is in such a case. You hâve to be whip, hunts- man, and èverything else if you are th« first mau up. Y(^ get in among the hounds, lash them oÊ, and keep thé brîîsh and pads from being destireyed. Of course, Wat Danbury knew ail about that, and he tried to force his maxe through the trees to the place whare ail this ùidôoas screaming an^Towling came froni, but the wood was so thick that it was impossible to ride it. >/f /.. 'V ■■'3i- >/f ^ / / /■ / , THE KING OP THE FOXES. 2G1 He sprang''off, thereîore, left the mare standing,. and broke'his way tlirough as best he .could with lis hubt- iii^^ash ready over bis shoulder. But as he ran forward he felt his flesh go coW and creepy ail over. He had heard hounds run into foxes many times before, but he had never heard such sounds as thèse. They were not the cries of triumph, but of fear: Every now and Jhen came a shrill yelp of mortàl agony. Holding his breath, he ran on until he broke through the inter- lacing branches and found hifliself in a little clearin<' with the hounds ail crowding round a patch of tangled bramble at the further end. / , "When he first caught sight of them the hounds wereBtanding in a Lalf-circle round thisbramble-patch with their backs bristling and their jaws gaping. In . front of the brambles lay one of them with his throat tom eut, ail crimson and white-and-tan. Wat came running eut iato the clearing, and at the sight of him IhB hoiîtids took heart again, ai^d one of them sprang with a growl into the bushes. At the samo instant, a créature the size of a donkey jumped on to its feet, a huge grey head, with monàtrous gliçtening fangs and tapering fox jaws, shot eut from among the branches, and Ihe hcmnd was thrown several feetvinto the air. And hl\ howling among thp cover. Then ^here was a olaish îHg *ii«p lik» a-i»i-irap clDïingrihd \the h(mW sharpened into a êcream and thm w«f»r gtill, \ "Danbury had beèn m tb« look «mt for 8tmptom8 mtft c 262 TÔE KING OF THE FOXES. ail day, and now he had foiind them. He looked once more at the thicket, saw a pair of savage red eyes fixed ' upon him, and fairly took to his heels. It might only ;be a passing delusion, or it might be the permanent mania of which the doctpr had spoken, but, anyhow, the thing to do was to get back to bed and to quiet, and to hope for the best. He forgot the hounds, the hunt, and everything else in his desperate fears for his own reason. He sprang upon his mare, galloped her madly over the dowps, and only stopped when he found himself at a country station. There he le^t his mare at the inn, and made back for home as quiclçly as steam would take him. It was evening before he gpt there, shivering with appréhension and seeing .those red eyes and savage teeth at every turn. He went straight to bed and sent for Dr. Mid^dletoïi. ^ ^ " 'l've got 'em, doctok' said he. 'Itf came about exaétly as you said— strange créatures, liptical deliisions, and everything. AU I ask you now, is to save my reason.' '* The doctor Ustened to his story and was shocked as he heard it. ' * . ï " ' It appearf to be a very clwir case,' said he. ' This muât be a lesson ^o you for life.' . - " ' Never a drop again if I only corne safely through this,' cried Wat Danbury. Well) my 4teitf boy>4f you will-sti^ W-th^it^may^ V/ prove a blessing in disguise. But the difficulty in this case is to know where fact ends apid fancy begins. ^ THE KINQ OP THE POXES. 263 V/ You see, it is not as if there was only one delusion. There hâve been several. The dead dogs, for example, must hâve been one as well as the créature in the bush.' " ' I saw it ail as clearly as I see you.* " ' One of the characteristicS of this ft)rm of delirium is that what you see is even clearer than reality. I was won- dering whether the whole run was not a delusion also.' " W^t Danbury pointed to his hnnting-boots still lying upon the floor,flecked with the splashings of twô counties. " ' Hum ! that looks very real, certainly. No doubt, in your weak state, you over-exerted yourself and so brought this attack upon yourself. Well, whatever the cause, ouj^^atment is clear. You will take thiP soothing lùixture which I will sei^d to you, and we shall put two leeches upon your temples tt>-«ia4ght tô relieve any congestion of the brain.' ' I ' " So Wat Daubury spent the night in tossing about and reflecting what a sènsitive thing this macniner;^ of ours is, and how very foolish jt is to plày tricks with what is so easily put ou^ of gear and so diffiçult ta mcnd. And so he repeated and repeated his oâth that this first lesson should be his last, and th^t from.that tlm^ forward he would be a sober, hard'-working yeoipàn as bis father had been b^^ftJûm. .^jp ne lay, tossing and still repentant, when InfHor ûpvt,G^n in the mprning and in rushed a Mwspapejr crnmjlled up in bis handj„ I--' " *My dfear^j|jf)y.' he cried. 'I owe you a thousand apologies. i.the most illrused lad and I the •"-v .1 \ -I^J- 'W v-0 ^ 2G4 THE KING OP THÉ FOXES. greatest numskuU in the county. Listen to tliis!" And he sat down upon the side of the bed, flattened out his paper upon his knee, and began to read. "The paragraph was headed, 'Disaster to tho Ascombe Hounds,' and it went on to say that four of the hounds, shockingly torn and mangled, had been found in - Wipton Fir' Wood upon the South Downs. The run had been so severe that half the pack were lamed; but the four found in the wood were actually dead, although the cause of their extraordinary injuries was still uuknown. ' So you see,' said the doctor, looping up, 'that I was wren*» when' I put the dead hounds among the delusions.' " ' But the cause ? ' cried Wat, " ' ^ell, I think we may guess thé cause from an item which bas been inserted just as the paper went lo press. "Late la^t night, Mr. Brown,of Smithcr's Farm, to the east of Itastings, perceived what he imagined to be an enormous dog worrying one of his sheep. He shot the créature, which proVes to be a grey Siberian wolf of the variety known as Lupus, Giganticus. It is supposed to hâve escaped from some travelling ménagerie." * "That's thé story, gentlemen, and Wat Danbury stuck to his good resolutions, for the fright which he had, cured him of ail wish to run such a risk again; and he ne ver touches anything stronger than lime-juice— at least, he hadû't before h^left this part of the country, five years ago next Lady Day." . .W-f s !t.rft 5lî^Aî>te. V. ! ■ THE THREE CORRESPONDENTS. I There was only the one little feathery clump of dôin palms in ail that grtat Tvildemess of black rocks and orange sand. It stood high on the bank, and below it the brown Nile swirled swiftly towards the Ambigole Cataract, fitting a little frill of foam round each of the boulders which studded its surface. Above, out of a naked blue sky, the sun was beating down upon the sand, and up again from the sand under the brims of the-pith-hats of the horsemen with the scorching glare of a blast-furnace. It had risen so high that the shadows of the horses were no larger than themselves. " Whew ! " cried Mortimer, mopping his forehead, *'you'd pay five shillings for this at the hnmmums." *' Precisely," said Scott. "But you are not asked to ride twenty miles in à Turkish bath with a field- glass and a revolver, and a water-bottle and a whoM Christmas-treeful of things dângling from' you. Th^ hot-house at Kew is excellent as a conservatory, but not ad^pted for exhibitions upo n the hor izontal bar>- Ivoto- for a camp in the palm-grove and a hait until Mortimer rose on his stirrups and lookec 265 re.nmg. to if^4&L '8*^&feàâ>!fcûr/ ,» 'K .mm-' ■S 4 :_._.. . ê ■• f* 4 ( ■ V ."'' ■ % A \ ^, • ^ ï (? V 2 • ' , t ^ «t '.* J > « ^ « ' • « ■■■■^^■^v:-..,;,. ,,r ■■t . . . 1 ■ - - • « • ' , , \ 1 ■Il * i B \1 "»■*>; Iti IMAGE EVALUAtlOM^ TEST TARGET (MT-3) i,. 1.0 ^i- I M "^ m 1.8 - 1.25 J '•^ l'-^ < \ 6" ; ► \r Hiol ^ Sdâicès Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N. Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^Je^% 4^ .-*>^fe ^ ^^. j ^ ^^ k - ^. ^ ' H « ï • ■ 26G THÉ THRÈE CORHESPONDENTs! the southward. Everywliere were the same black burned rocks and deep orange sand. Atone spot only an intermittenriine appeared to hâve been-cut through the rugged ' spurs which ran down to the river. It wa^ the bed of the old railway, long destroyed by the Arabs, but now in process of recon- struction by the advancing Egyptians. There was no other sign of man's handiwork in ail that desolate scène. " It's palm trees or nothing," said Scott. " Well, I suppose we must ; and y et I grudge every hour until we catch the force upf What would our editors say if we were late for the action ? " "My dear chap, an old bird like you doesn't need to be told that no sane modem gênerai would ever attack until the l'ress is up." " You don't mean that ? " said young Anerley. " I thoughtwewere looked uponasanunmitigated nuisance." '"Newspaper correspondents and travelling gentle- men, and ail that tribe of useless drones' — being an extract from Lord Wolseley's 'Soldier's Pocket-Book,' " cried Scott. "We know ail about that, Anèrley;" and he winked behind his blue spectacles. " If there was going to be a battle we should very soon Kave an esoort pf cavalry to hurry us up; l'v^ been in fifteen, and I never saw one where they had not arranged for a reporter's table." "That's very well; but the enemy may be less ie, ' said Mortimer. '■;»' -"^ THE THREE CORRESPONDENTS. 267 1^.: " They are not strong enough to force a battle." " A skirmish, then ? ". "Much more likely to be a raid upon tlie rear. Iq that case we are just wliere we sLould be." " So we are ! What a score over Eeuter's man up with the advance! Well, we'U outspan and hâve our tiffin under the palms." . There were three of them, and they stood for three great London dailies. Eeuter's was thirty miles ahead ; two evening pennies upon camels were twenty miles behind. And among them they represented the eyes and ears of the public— the great silent millions and millions who had paid for everything, and who waited so patiently to know the resuit of their outlay. They were remarkable men thèse body-servants of the Press; two of them already vétérans in camps, the other setting ont upon his fi^stiVcampaign, and full of déférence for his famous comrades. This first one, who had just dismounted from his bay polo-pony, was Mortimer, of the Intelligence— t&W, straight, and hawk-faced, with kharki tunic and riding- breeches, drab putties, a scarlet cummerbund, and a skin tanned to the red of a Scotch fir by sun and wind, - and^ mottled by the mdsquito and the sand-fly. The other— siuall, quick, mercurial, with blue-black, curling beard and fefir,^ fly-smtch for ëvërtîCkTïï^ in Bis" left hand — was Scott, of the Courier, who had corne through more dangers and brought off more brilliant ^!l i. i ! 1 'mi*âÊ^'MîrÂ;i 268^ THE THREE CORRESPONDE^TS. " 'coups than any man in the profeâsion, sjve the eminent Chandler, now no longer in. a conditf<)n to take the field. Tliey were a singular contrasta Mortimer and Scott, and it was in tbeir differencea that the secret of their close friendship lay. Each dovetailed into the other. The strength of each was in the other's weakness. Together they formed a perfect unit. Mortimer was Saxon— slow, conscientious, and de- liberate; Scott was Celtic-quick, happy-go-lucky, and brilliant. Mortimer wa? the more solid, Scott the more attractive. Mortimer was the deeper thinker, Scott the brighter talker. By a curions coincidence, though each had seen muchof warfare, their campaigns had never coincided. Together the^overed ail récent Wilitary history. Scott had don JÉ^na, the Shipka, the Zulus, Egypt, Suakim; MdSI?r had seen thé Boer War, the Chilian, the , p\ilgaria and Servian, the Gordon relief, the Indian frontier, Brazilian rebemon, and Madagascar. This intimate personal knowledge gave a peculiar flavour to their talk. There was none of the second-hand surmise and conjecture which form so much of our conversation; it was ail concrète and final. The speaker had been there, had seen it, and there was an ônd of it. In spite of their friendship there w^ the keenest prof essional rivalry between the two men. Either woûId^Mve sacrïficerhimseîf to help his pompanion. but either W9ul 278 THE THREE CORRESPONDENTâ. takes rough ground much better than a horse. They used to hâve long distance races at Halfa, and the oamel always won at thirty." I *'Still, we need not reproach ourselves, Scott, for we are not very likely to hâve to-c^rry a thirty-mile message. They will hâve the field telegraph next week." " Quite 30. But at the présent moment— i- '■ " I know, my dear chap ; but there is no motion of urgency before the house. Load baggles at five o'clock ; 80 yoii hâve just" three hours clear. Any sign of the evening pennies ? " . Mortimer swept the northern horizon with his binoculars. " Not in sight yet." "They are quite capable of travelling during the heat of the day, Just the sort of thing evening pennies wouU do. Take care of your match, Anerley. Thèse palm groves go up like a powder magazine if you set them alight. Bye-bye." The two men ci;awled under their mosquito-nets and sank instantly into the easy sleep of those whose lives are spent in the open. Young Anerley stood with his back against a palm treo and his briar between his lips, thinking over the advice which he had received. After ail, they were the heads of the profession, thèse men, and it was not for hifflj^hô newcomer, to reform their raethoda. ïf they^ served their papers in this fashion, then he must do the aame. They had at least been frank and gênerons in *. .A. THE THREE C0RRESP0NDENT9. 279 ■î> the his teaching him the mies qf the game. If it was good enôugh for them it was good enough for him. It was à broiling afternoon, and those thin frills of foam round the black, glistening necks of the • Nile boulders looked delightfuUy cool and allurfng. But it would not be safe to bathe for som'e hours to corne. The air shimmered and vibrated over the baking stretch of sand and rock.^Biere was not a breath of wind, and the droning- and piping of the insects inclined one for sleep. Somewhere above a hoopoe was calling. Anerley knocked ont his ashes, and was tuming towards his couch, when his eye caught something moving in the désert to the south. It was a horseman riding towards them as swlftly aq the broken ground would permit.. A messenger fj^ the army, thought Anerley ; and then, as lie ^watched, the sun suddenly struck the man on the side of the head, and his chin flamed intô gold. There could not be two horsemen with beards of such a colour. It was Merryweather, the engineer, and he was teturning. What on earth was he returning for? He had been so keen to see the General, and yet he was coming back with his mission unaccomplished. Was it that his pony was hopelessly foundered ? It seemed to be moving well. Anerley picked up Mortimer's binoculars, and a foam-spattered horse and a weary koorbash- XïHRïking man^ame cantering np the centre of the fieMr But there was nothing in his appearance to explain the mystery of his returq. 280 THE THREE CORRESPONDENTS. Then as Le watched them they dipped down into a hollow and disappeared. He could see that it was one of those narrow khors which led to the river, and he waited, glass in hand, for their immédiate reappearance. But minute passed after minute and there was no si^n of them. That narrow guUy appeared to hâve s waÛowed them up. And then with a curions gulp and start he saw a little gray cloud wreathe itself slowly from among tlie rocks and drift in a long, hazy shred over the désert. In an instant he had torn Scott and Mortimer from their slumbers. " Get up, you chaps ! *' he cried.* " I believe Merry- weather has been shot by dervishes." "And Reuter not hère!" cried the two vétérans, exultantly clutching at their notebooks. " Merry- weather shot ! Where ? When ? How ? " lu a few words Anerley explained what he had seen. " You heard nothing ? " " Nothing." " Well, a shot loses itself very easily amoDg rocks. By George, look at the buzzards ! " . Two large brown birds were soaring in the deep blue heaven. As Scott spoke they circled down and dropped into the little khor. " That's gobia enough," said Mortimer, with his nose between the le aves of his book. " ' M^ny weather headed dervishes stop returned stop shot mutilated etop raid communications.' How's that ? " THE THREE CORRESPONDE NT3. 281 " You think he wa^ headed off ? " " Why else sliould he return «? " " In that case, if they were out in front of him and others eut him off, there must be several small raiding- parties." " I should judge so." " How about the ' mutilated ' ? " " l've fought against Arabs before." " Where are you off to ? " "Sarras." " I think l'il race you in," said Scott. Anerley stared in astonishment at the absolutely iœ Personal way in which thèse men regarded the situation. In their zeal for news it had apparently never struck them that they, their camp and their Servants, were ail in the lion's mouth. But even as they talked there came the harsh, importunate rat-tat- tat of an irregular voUey from among the rocks, and the high, keening whistle of bullets over their heads. A palm spray fluttered dovvn amongst them. At the same instant the six frightened servants came running wildly in for protection. It was the cool-headed Mortimer wh6^ organized the defence, for Scott's Celtic soûl was so aflame at ail this " copy " in hand and more to coma, that he was too cuberantly bo is te rous^ ior a commander. Thô ofehefp with his spectacles and his stern face, soon had the servfints in hand- Sîu^^iàÉ:^ 282 rHE THREE CORRESPONDENTS. "Taîi hennaf Egri ! What the deuce are you frightened about ? Put the camels between the palm trunks. ïhat's right. Fow get the kuee-tethers on them. Did you never hear buUets before ? Now put ceys here. Not much — you don't get my polo- pony t(y make a^areba with. I*icket the ponies between the gi/ove and the river out of danger's way. Thèse ftilloVs seem to fire even higher than they did in '85." " That's got home, anyhow," said Scott, as they heard a soft, splashing thud like a stone in a mud-bank. " Who's hit, then ? " " The brown camel that's chewing the cud." As he spoke the créature, its jaw still working, laid its long neck along the ground and closed its large daik eyes. I " That shot cost me fifteen pounds," said Mortimer, ruefuUy. " How many of them do you make ? " "Four, Ithink." "Only four Bezingers, at any rate; there may be some spearmen." " I think not ; it is a little raiding-party of riflemen. By the way, Anerley, you've never been under fire before, hâve you ? " " Never," said the young pressman, who was conscioua of a curious feeling of nervous elation. " Love and poverty and war, they are ail expériences -necessaiy to make a complète life. Pass overthose^ cartridges. This is a very mild baptism that you are undergoing, for behind thèse camels you arQ a^ safQ as THE THRËE -CORRESPONDENTS. 283 if you were sitting in ibe.bgck room of the Authora' Club." . "As safe, but hardly as comfortable," said Scott. " A long glass of hock and seltzer would be exceedingly acceptable. But oïi, Mortimer, what a chance ! Think of the General's feelings when hé hears that the first action of the war has been fought by the Press column. Think of Eeuter, who has been stewing at the front for ^ week ! Think of the evening pennies just too late for the fun ! By George, that slug brushed a mosquito off me ! " " And one of the donkeys is hit." " This is sinful. It will end in our having to carry our own kits to Khartoum." " Never mind, my boy, it ail goes to make copy. I can see the headlines — ' Eaid on Communications ' : * Murder of British Engineer ' : ' Press Column Attacked.' Won't it be ripping ?" " I wonder what the next line will be," said Anerley. " ' Our Spécial Wounded ! ' " cried Scott, roUing over on to his back. " No hartn done," he added, gathering himself up again ; " only a chip off my knee. This is getting sultry. I confess that the idea of that back room at the Authors' Club begins to grow upon me." " I hâve some diachylon." , "Afterwards will do. We're having 'a 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush.' i wîsh he would rush." " They're coming nearer." " This ia an excellent revolver of mine if it didn't \ il \ I: 284 TDE THREE CORRESPONDENTS. throw so devilish high. I always aim at a man's toes if I want to stimulate his digestion. Lçrd, there's our kettle gone !" Wîth a boom like a dinner-gongaEemington buUet had passed through the kettle, and a cloud of steam hissed up from the fire, A wild shout came from the rocks above. "The idiots think that they hâve blown us up. They'll rush us now, as sure as fate ; tjien it will be our turn to. lead. Got your revolver, Anerley ? " " I hâve this double-barrelled fowling-piece." " Sensible man ! It's the best weapon in the world at this sort of rough-and tumble work. What cartridges ? " "Swan-shot." " That will do ail right. I carry this big bore double- ' barrelled pistol loaded with slugs. You might as well try to stop one of thèse fellows with a peashooter as with a service revolver." "There are ways and means," said Scott. "The Geneva Convention does not hold sputh of the first cataract. It's easy to make a bullet mushroom hf a little manipulation of the tip of it. When I was in the broken square at Tamai " "Wait a bit," cried Mortimer, adjusting his glasses. " I think they are coming now." "The time," said Scott, snapping up his watch, "be ing exactly seventeen minutes past four." Anerley had been lying behind a camel, staring with an interest which bordered upon fascination at the rocks THE THREE CORRESPONDENTS. 285 opposite. Here was a little woolly puff of sinok«, and there was another one, but never once liad they cauglit a glimpse of the attackérs. To him tliere was some- thing weird and awesome in thèse unseen, persistent men who, minute by minute, were dra\ying doser to them. He had lieard them cry out when tlie kettle was broken, and once, immediately afterwards, an enormously strong voice had roared something vhich had set Scott shrugging his shoulders. " They've got to take us first,'>^cWie, and Anerley thought his nerve might be better if he did not ask for à translation. The firing had begun~ at a distance of some hundred yards, which put it out of the question for them, with their lighter weapons, to make any reply to it. Had their antagonists continued to keep that range the defenders must either hâve made a^hopeless sally or tried to shelter themselves behind their zareba as best they might on the chance that the sound might bring up help. But luçkily for them the African had never taken kindly to the rifle, and his primitive instinct to close with his enemy is always too strong for his sensé of strategy. They were drawing in, therefore, and now for the first time Anerley caught sight of a face looking at them from over a rock. It was a huge, virile, strong- jawed head of a pure negro type, with silver trinkets^ gleaming in the ears. The man raised a great arm from behind the rock and shook his Kemington at them. ' 286 THE THREE CORRESPONDENTS. "ShallIfire?"askedAnerley. . . "No, no, it is too far; your shot would scatter ail overthe place." " It's a picturesque ruffian," said Scott. " Couldn't you kodak him, Mortimer ? There's another ! " A fine-featured brown Arab, with a black, pointed beard, was peeping frpm behind another boulder. He wore the green turban which proclaimed him hadji, and bis face showed the keen, nervous exultation of the religions fanatic. "They seem a piebald crowd," said Scott. "That last is one of the real fighting Baggara," remarked Mortimer. " He's a dangerous man." "He looks pretty vicious. 'There's another negro ! " '[Twomore! Dftgas, by the look of theA. Justthe same chaps we get our own black battalions from, As long as they get a fight they don't mind who it's for; but if the idiots had only sensé enough to understand, they would know that the Arab is their hereditary enemy, and we their hereditary friends. Look at the silly juggins gnashing his teeth at the very men who put down the slave trade !" " Couldn't you ejcplaln ? '* " l'il explain witb this pistol when he cornes a little nearer. Now sit tight, Anerley. They're ofif ! " T^hey were indeed. It was the brown man with the green turban who headed the rush. Close at his heels ^aa the negro with the silver earrings— a giant of a ÏHE THREE CORRESPONDENTS. 287 man, and the other two were only a little behind. As they sprang over the rocks one after the other, it took Anerley back to the school sports when he held the tape for the hurdle-race. It was magnificent, the wild spirit and abandon of it, the flutter pf the cheqiiered galabeeahs, the gleam of steel, the wave of black arms, the frenzied faces, the quick pitter-patter of the rushing feet. The law-abiding Briton is so imbued with the idea of the sanctity of human life that it was hard for the young pressman to realize that thèse men had every intention of killing him, and that he was atper- fect liberty to do as much for them. He lay staring as if this were a show and he a spectator. " Now, Anerley, now ! Take the Arab ! " cried some- body. He put up the gun and saw the brown fîerce face at the other end of the barrel. He tugged at the trigger, but the face grew larger and fiercer with every stride. Again and again he tugged. A revolver-shot rang out at his elbow, then another one, and he saw a red spot spring out on" the Arab's brown breast. But he was still coming on. " Shoot, you ass, shoot ! " screamed Scott. Again he strained unavailingly at the trigger. There were two more pistol-shots, and the big negro had fallenv and risen and fallen a^ain. "Cocii it, you fool ! " shouted a furious voice ; and at the same instant, with a rush and flutter, the Arab , «^ i" 288 THE THREE CORRESPONDENTS bouùded over the prostrate camel and came down with his bars feet upon Anerley's cliest^ In a dream lie seemed to be struggling frantically with sonie one upon tlio ground, then he was conscious of a tremendous explosion in his very face, and so ended for him the first action of the war. ^ "Gôod-bye, old chap. You'll be ail right. Give ■yourself -time." It was Mortimer's voice, and he became dimly conscious of a long-spectacled face, and of a heavy hand u*pon hiâ shoulder. * - " Sorry to leave you. We'll be lucky now if we are in time for the morning editiçns." Scott was tightening his girth as he spoke. •^ We'll put in our wire that you hâve been hurt, so your people will know why tliey don't hear from you. If Reuter or the evening pennies corne up, don't give the thing -away. Abbas will look after you, and we'll be back to-morrow aftemoon. Bye-bye l " Anerley heard it ail, though he did not feel energy enough to answer. Then, as he watched two sleek brown ponies witl^ their yellow-clad riders dwindling among the rocks, his memory cleared suddenly, and he realized that the first great joumalistic chancô of his life ' was slipping away from him. 'It was a smallTight, but it was the first of the war, and the great public at home was alî athirat for news. They would hâve it in |he Courier ; they would haf e it in the Intelligence, and not ^ V, , k J^'- • THE THREE CO^IRESPOÎÎDENTS. 289 ? word^the Gazette. The thouglit brought him to Lis f^et, thoî^ïie had to tirow his arm round the stem of the palm tree to stqady Lis swimmmg Lea^. There wds the big black nian lying where he had falbn, his huge chest pocked with biillet-jnarks, eveiy w^und'' rosetted with its circle of Aies. The Arab Was stretched out withiû a few yards of him, with two hands clasped over the dreadful thing which had been his head. Across him was lying Anerley's fo^ing-pi^e, one barrel dis- chargedr^the other at half cock. " Scott effendi shoot hiin your gun," said a voice. It was Abbas, his English-speakiûg body-servant. . - Anerley groaned at the'^disgrace of it. He had lost his head so completely that he had forgotten tp cock his gun ; and yet he knew that it was not fear but interest \which had so absorbed -Eîm. He put his hand up to his head and felt that a wet liandkerchief was bound round his forehead. " Where are^-the t Jo other dervishes ?" . ' " They ran away. One got shot in arm." " What's happeued to me ? " ' "'Effendi got eut onlead. Effendi catch bad man by arms, and Scott effendi shoot him. Faie buru very bad." Anerley became conscious suddenly that there was a pringling about his skin and an overpowering smell of burned hair under his nostrils. He pkt his hand to hl^ moustache. It was gone. His ^yebrows toc ? He could not find thein. His hçad, no doibt, tvas very near .^ 290 THE THRKE CORRE8PONDENT8. \ to the dervish's wlien they were rolliog upon the |youn(i ^ • together, and this was the effect of the explosion of his own gun. Well, lie wpuld hâve time to grow some more hair before he s^w Fleet Street agoin. But the eut, perhaps, was ^ more aerious iiiatter. WoB it enough to pfevent him from getting to the telegraph-offlce at Sarras ? The ouly way was to try and aee. i But there was only that.ppor little Syrian gray pf lr„. There it stood in the evening sunshine, with a siink hoad and a bent knee, as if its morning's work was atill hêavy upon it. What hope was^re of being able to do thirty-five miles of heavy goLg upon that ? It , would: be a strain upon the splendiJ ponies of \m com- ^^ panions-and they werp the swiftest and rax)8t enduring - in the CQuntry. TÊt^most enduring ? There was ono > créature more enduring, and that was a real trotting camel. If he had hàd one he might bave got to the wires . first after ail, for Mortimer had said that over thirty miles they hâve the better of any horse. Tes, if ho had ^ . only had a real trotting camel ! And then like a ilash ^ . came Mortimer's words, " It is the kiad of beist that tho dervishes ride when they make their l^i^tts^ids." The beasts'the der#ghes ride ! Wl ^ ^H E p^ dcad^'^ . dervishes ridden ? In an instant hô ^Brakring up " , ;, " ,the rocks, with Abbas proteâting at bis heels. Had the '^flÈ. '^'^^ fugitives carried away ail the camels, or had they " ' ^'^'"^^S^^^^^^^^^emselves? îhe brass gleam from ^ emi Eenaington cases caught his eye, and ,■!.* i tHE^THREE CORRESPONDENTS. 291 showed where the enemy bad beea croutîhing. And then he çould hâve shouted for joy, for there! in the hoUow, apme littlé distance off. rose the high, graceful" white neck and the élégant head of such a camel as he- had pever set eyes upon .before— a awan-like. beautiful créature, as far frbm the rough, clumsy baggle» as the cart-horse Iq from th& racer. The beast ^as- kneeling under the shelter of the^rockg with its waterski?^ and bagof doora shingovef its shouK ders, and its forelegs .tethered Arab fashion with a ropo round the^kneès. Anerley threw bis leg over the front pommel whib Abbas slipped off the cord.' Forward flew Anérley towards the creatufe's neck, then violeutly backwaids, clawing madly at any thing which might saye^ Ijim, an4 then, with a jerk which nearly snapped his^ loins, he wa.s thrown forward again. But the camel was on its legs now, and the young pressman was safely seated upon one of the fliersof the désert. - It wa^ as gentle as it was swift, and it stood oscillating its long neck and gazmg round with its large brown eyes, whils^ Anerley coiled hia legs round the peg and graspéd the curved camel-stick which Abbaa had handed up to him. There were two bridle-cords, one from the nostril and' one from the neck, but he remembered that Scott had said that it was the servant's and not the house-bell ^^^c^^^ad to be pulled, so he kept hia g^p upcm ~tK lowerV iSep he touched the long, vibrating neék with his'stick, and in an instant Abbas' farewells seemed ^4.: .' I 29S THE THREE CORRESPONDENTS. to corne from far behind liim, and tlie black rocks and yellow sand were dancing past on either side. It was his first expérience of a trotting camel, and at fîrst the motion, although iiTegular and abrupt, was not unpleasant. Having no stiiTup or fixed point of any kind, he could not rise to it, but he gripped as tightly as lie could with his knee, and he tried to sway backwards and forwatds as he had seen the Arabs do. p was a large, very concave Makloofa saddle, an^' Je was coriscious that he was bouncing about on It* with as little power of adhésion as a billiard-ball upon a tea- tray. He gripped the two sides \n.ih his hands to hold himself steady. The créature had got into its long, swinging, stealthy trot, its sponge-like feet making no Sound upon the hard sand. Anerley leaned back with his two hands gripping hard behind him, and he whooped the créature on. The sun had abeady sunk behind the Une of black volcanic peaks, which look like huge slag-heaps at the mouth of a mine. The western sky had takcn that lovely light-green and pale-pink tint which makes evening beautiful upon the Nile, and the old brown river itself, swirling down amongét the black rocks, caught some shimmer of the colours above. The glare, the heal;, and the piping of the insects had ail ceased In spite of his aching head, Anerley could together liave cried out for pure ph'ysical joy as the swift créature beneath him flew alqpg with him through thaf cool, ./"• . 1 THE THREE CORRESPONDENïS. 293 invigorating air, with the virik north wind soothing his pringling face. He had looked at his watch, and now he made a swift calculation of times and distances. It was past six when he had left the camp. Over broken ground it was impossible that he could hope to do more than seven mil^s an hour— less on bad parts, more on the smooth. His recollection of the track was that there were few smooth and many bad. He would be lucky, then, if he reached Sarras anywhere from twelve to one. Then the messages took a good two hours to go through, for they had to be transcribed at Cairo. At the best he could only hope to hâve told his story in Fleet Street at two or three in the morning. It was possible that he might mànage it, but the chances seemed enormously against him. About three the morning édition would be made up, and his chance gone for ever. The one thing clear was that only the first man at the wires would hâve any chance at ail, and Anerley meant to be first if hard riding could do it. So he tapped^ away at the bird-like neck, and the creature's long, loose limbs went faster and faster at every tap. Wliere the rocky spurs rau down to the* river, horses would hâve to go round, while camels might get across, so that Anerley felt that he was always gaining upon his companions. — ^ut ^here^was^r^riee te be paid for the feeling. ^^îç^ had heard of men who had burst when on camel journeys, and he knew that the Arabs swathe thcir .^•' 294 THE THREE CORRESPONDENTS. bodies tightly in broad cloth bandages when ihey pré- pare for a longmarch. It had seemed unnecessary and ' ridiculous when he first began to speed over the level track,. but nd^ when he got on the rocky patlis, he und|rstood what it meant. Never for an instant was h^ ^t the same angle. Backwards, forwards he swung, wfth a tingling jar at the end of each sway, until hé ached from his neck to his knee. It caught him across the shoulders, it caught him down the spine, it gripped him over the loins, it marked the lower line of his ribs with one heavy, dull throb. He clutched hère and the're ' with his hand to try and ease the strain upon his muscles. He drew up his knees, altered his seat, and set his teeth with a grim détermination to go through with it should it kill him. His head was splitting, his flayed face smart- ing, and every joint in his body aching as if it were dis- loca*ed. But he forgot ail that when, with the rising of the mfoon, he heard the cHnking of horses' hoofs down upon the track by the river, and knew that, unseen by them, h(5 had already got well abreast of his companions. But he vas hardly halfway and the time already eleven. Ail d^y the needles had been ticking away without intermiësion in the little corrugated iron hut which served as a telegraph station at Sarras. With its bare walls and its packing-case seats it was none the less for i^^J""°^^^V Q^QQf the^ yital ap nt5? upo n the eartà'» surface, and the (irisp, importunate ticking might hâve corne from the world-old cloçk of Destiny. ]\îany THE THREE CORRESPONDENTS. 295 pre- ' and level 3, he was ung, il he 3ross PPed ^* ribs -y he're" ^ clés, eeth ould lart- dis- sing own iby ons. v^en. tout lich )are for tk' a august people had been at tlie other end of those wires, and had communed with the moist-faced military clerk. A French Premier had demanded a pledge, and an English marquis had passed on the request to the General in command, with a question as to how it would affect the situation. Cipher telegrams had nearly driven the clerk out of his wits, for of ail crazy occupations the taking of a cipher message, when^çu are without the key to the cipher, is the worst. Miîch- high diplomacy had been going on ail day in the inner- most chambers of European chancellaries, and the results of it had been whispered into this little corru- gated iron hut. About two in the morning an enormous despatch had corne at last to an end, and the weary operator had opened the door, and was lighting his pipe in the cool, fresh air, when he saw a camel plump down in the dust, and a man, who seemed to be in the last stage of drunkenness, come rolling towards him. " What's the time ? " he cried, in a voice which appeared to be the only sober thing about him. ^ It was on the clerk's lips to say that it was time that the questioner was in his bed, but it is not safe upon a campaign to be ironical at the expens§ of kharki-clad men. He contented himself therefore with the bald statement that it was after two, — Bntlttô TëlOTTlhâl; he cTOÎd havë dëT^ëd xsoûlà hâve" ave my had a more crushing effect. The voice turned drunken also, and the man caught at the door-post to uphold him. 296 THE THREE CORRESPONDENTS. " Two o'clock ! l'm done after ail ! " said ,lie. His head was tied up in a bloocty handkerchief, Lis face was çrimson, and he stood witb his legs crooked as if tlie pith had ail gone ont of 'bis back. The çlerk began to realize that something out of the ordinary was in the wiad, ^ " How long does it take to get a wire to London ? " " About two hours." "And it's two now. I could not get it there before four." " Before three." "Four." I ^ "No. three."! " But you said two hours." " Yes, but there's more than an hour's différence in longitude." "By Heaven, l'il do it yet!" cried Anerley, and staggering to a packing-case, he began the' dictation of his famous despatch. And 80 it came 'about that the Gazette had a Ion» O column, with headlines like an epitaph, when the sheets of the Intelligence and the Courier were as blank as the faces of their editors. And so, too, it happened that when two weary men, upon two foundered horses, arrived about four in the moming at the Sarras post- office they looked at each other in silence and departed noiselessly, with the conviction that there are some situations with which the English language is not capable of dealing. / .iiiii THE NEW CATACOMB. " Look hère, Burger," said Kennedy, " I do wish that you would confide in me." The two famous students of Roman remains sat together in Kennedy's comfortable room cverlooking the Corso. The night was cold, and they had both , puUed up their chairs to the unsatisfactory Italian stove which threw ont a zone of stuffiness rather than of warmth. Outside iinder the bright winter stars lay the modem Eome, the long, double ehain of the electric lamps, the brilliantly lighted cafés, the rushing carriages, and the dense throng upon the footpaths. But inside, in the sumptuous chamber of the rich young English archœologist, there was only old Rome to be seen. Cracked and time-worn friezes hung upon the walls, grey old busts of senators and soldiers with their fighting heads and their hard, cruel faces peered ont from the corners. On the centre table, amidst a litter of inscrip- tions, fragments, and ornaments, there stood the famous. reconstruction by Kennedy of the Baths of Caracalla, -^^ich excited such interest and âdmifaîîon wBenT IT was exhibited in Berjin. Amphone hling from the ceiling, and a litter of curiosities strewed the rich red 207 C"w|f| rr J 298 THE NEW CATACOMB. Turkoy carpet. And of them ail tl^ere wa^not one which was not of the jnost unimpeachable authenticity, and of the utmost rarity and value ; for Kennedy, though little more than thirty, had a European répu- tation in iliis particular brai^ch of researcli, and was, moreover, J)rovided with that long purse wliieh either proves to be a fatal handicap tp the student's énergies, or, if his mind is still true îo its purpose, gives him an jnormous advanta^ia theirace for famé. Kennedy Jiad often been seduced by whim and pleasure from his studies, but his - mind was an incisive one, capable of long and concentrate(^ efforts which ended in sharp reactions of sensuous languor. His handsome face, with its Éigh, white forehead, its aggressive nose, and its somewhat Iqose and ^ensual mouth, was a fair index of the compromise between strength and weak- ness in his nature. Of a very différent type was liis companion, Julius Burger. He came of a curioua blend, a German father and an Italian mother, with the robust qualities of the North mingling strangely with the softer grâces of the South. Blue Teutonic eyes liglitéûed his sun- browned face, and above them rose a square, massive forehead, with a fringe of close yellow curls lying round it. His strong, firm jaw was clean-shaven, and his companion had frçquently remayked how much. it_. suggested those old Eoman busts which peered out from the shadows in the corners of his chamber. ^ TEE NEW CATACOMB. 299 us er he of < • n- Kl is it ' lit ' Under its bluff German strengtli there lay always a suggestion, of Italian subtlety, but the smile was so honest, and the eyes so frank, that one understood that this was only an indication of his ancestry, with no actual beariug upon his character. In âge and in reputatiofu he was on the same level as his English cpmpanion, but his life and his work had both been fur more arduous. T^-elve years before, he had corne as a poor student to Eome, and had lived eve'r since upon some sraall endowment for research which had been awarded to him by the University of Bonn. l'ainfuUy, slowly, and doggedly, with extraordinary tenacity and single-mindedness, he had climbed from rung to rung of the ladder of famé, until now he was a member of the- Berlin Academy, and there was every reason to believe that he would shortly be promoted to the Chair of the greatest of German Universities. But the singleness of purpose which had brought him to the same high level as the rich and brilliant English- raan, had caused ^m in everything outside their work to stand infinitely below him. He had never found a pause in his studies in which to cultivate the social grâces. It was only when^he spoke of his own subject that his face was filled with life and soûl. At other thnes he was silent and embarrassed, too conscious of his own limitations in larger subjects, and impatient^ of that small talk which is the conventional refu^re of those who hâve no thoughts to express. i IH 300 THE NEW CATACOMB. And yet for some years there liad been au acquaiut- anceship which appeared to be slowly ripening into a friendship between thèse two very différent rivais. The base and origin of this lay in the fact that in their own studies each was the only one of the younger men who had knowledge and enthusiasm enough to properly appreciate the other. Their common interebts and pUrsuits had brought them together, and each had been attracted by the other's knowledge. And then gradually something had been added to this. Kennedy had been amused by the frankness and simplicity of his rival, while Burger in turn had been fascinated by the brilliancy and vivacity which had made Kennedy such a favourite in Eoman society. I say " had," , because just at the moment the young Englishman was somewhat iinder a cloud. A love-affair, the détails of which had never quite corne out, had indicated a heartlessness and callousness upon his part which shocked many of his friends. But in the baclfelor circles of students and artists in which he preferred to move there is no very rigid code of honour in such matters, and though a head might be shakeu or a pair of shoulders shrugged over the flight of two and the return of oue, the gênerai sentiment was probably one of curiosity and perhaps of envy rather than of réprobation. -_'iiQQ^Jh6re,JBurger/ ' said Kennedy, looking hard at= the placid face of^his companion, " I do wish that you would con^e in me." THE NEW CATACOMB. 301 As he spoke he waved his h and in the direction of a rug Avhicli lay upon the floor. On tlie rug stood a long, shallow fruit-basket of the light wicker-work which is used in the Campana, and this was heaped with a litter of objects, inscribed tiles, broken inscriptions, cracked mosaics, torn papyri, rusty métal ornaments, which to the uninitiated might hâve seemed to hâve coine straight from a diistman's bin, but which a specialist would hâve speedily recognizéd as unique of their kind. The pile of odds and ends in the flat wicker-work basket supplied exactly one of thèse missing links of social development which are of such interest to the student. It was the German who had brought them in, and the Englishman's eyes were hungry as he looked at them. " I won't interfère with your treasure-trove, but I should very much like to hear about it," he continued, while Burger very , deliberately lit a cigar. " It is evidently a discovery of the first importance. Thèse inscriptions will make a sensation throughout Europe." " For every one hère there are a million there ! " said the German. " There are so many that a dozen savants might spend a lifetime over them, and build up a réputation as solid as the Castle of St. Angelo." Kennedy sat thinking with liis fine forehead wrinkled and his fingers playing with his long, fair moustache. " You hâve given yourself away, Burger ! " said he at last. " Your words can only apply to one thing. You hâve discovered a new catacomb." Ti "302 THENEW CATACOMB. ' " I had no doubt that you bad already corne to tliat conclusion from an examination of thèse objects." • "Well, they certainly appeared to indicate it, but your last remarks make it certain. There is np place except a catacomb which could contain- sô vast a store y' of relies as you describe." . - r ^ " Quite 80. There is no mystery about that. Vhave discovered a ne\^ catacomb." , « ^^ "Where?" . 3 "Ah, that is my secret, my dear Kennedy. ^ Sufflce it that it is so situated that there is not one chante in a million of any one else coming upon it. Its date ii di.Terent from that of any known catacomb, and it has been reserved for the burial of the highest Christians, so that the remains and the relies ar^iiite différent from anything which has ever beèn seen before. If I was not aware of your knowledge and of your energy, my> friend, I would not hesitate, under the pledge pf secrecy, to tell you everything about it. But as it is I think that I must certainly prépare my own report ^of the matter before I expose myself to such formidable compétition." Kennedy loved his subject with a love which wjia almost a mania — ^^a love which held him tfue to it, amidst ail the distractions which come to a wealthy and dissipated young man. He had ambition, but his ambition was secondary to his mère abstract joy and int^est in everything which concerned tte old life l V r^ "V THE NEW CATACaMU. 303 * ^ . >■ and histoiy of the city. He yearned to see tliis uew underworld which his companioo had (discovered. "Look hère, Burger," • sàid he, eatnestly, "I- assure you that you can trust me most " implicitly in the malster. Nothing would induce me to put pen to paper a^ut anything wliich I see until I hâve your .express permission. I quite understand your feeling and I thiok it is most natural, but you hâve rcaUy nothing whatever to fear from me. On the other haud, if you don't tell me I shall make a systematic search, and I shall most certainly discover it. In that case, of "course; I should make what use I liked ôf it, sine©. I should be;under no obligation to you." Burger smiled thoughtfully over his cigar. , ' "1 hâve noticed, friend Kejinedy," said he, ','tliut when I want information over apy point you are not always so ready to supply it." \ " When did you ever ask me anything that I did not . tell you ? You remember, for example„my giving you the . material for your paper about the temple of the Testais. '4f " Ah well, that was not a matter of much importance. If I were to question you ùpon some intimate thing ' would you give me an answer, I wonder ! Tïiis new catacomb is a very Intimate thing to me, and I should certainly expect some sign of confidence in return." "What you are driving at^cannot imagine/' said „ the Englishman, "but if you mean that you will answer my question about the catacomb if I answer ^ 'H' r^ y ■>*.■ y-.- 304 THE NEW CATACOMB. any question which you mây put to n\o I cûii as&uro you that I will certainly do so." ''XVell, tlien," said Burger, leaning luxuriously back in liis settee, anci pufïing a blue tree of cigor-smoko into tliG air, "tell WQ ail about yoùr relations ^iflj Mias Mary Saunderson." , "^ ' Kennedy- spi-ang up iu hi^ chair and glared nugrily at his impassive companion. " Wliat tlie devil do you nfean ? " lie cried. " W^Iiat sort of a questioiï is tliis ? You may mean it as a joko, but you never made a worse one." " No, I dojï't mean it as a joke," said Burger, simply, "I am really rallier interested in tlie détails of the matter. I don't k'now, mucli about tlie world and women and social life and that sort of thing, and such an incident bas tlie fascination of the unknown for mo. I know "you, and I knew her by sight— I had cvon spoken to her once or twice. I should very much liko to hear from your own lips exactly what it Was which occurred between you." "J won't tell you aavord." "That's ail right. It was only my whira lo see if you would give up a secret as easily as you expected Dje to give up my secret of the new catacomb. You wouldn't, and I didn't expect you to. But why should you expect otherwi se of m e ? There's Saint Jqhn's clock^ striking ten. It is quite time that I was going home." "No; wait a bit, Burger," said Kennedy; "this is \ THE NEW CATACOMB. 305 reAlly a ridiculous caprice of yours to wisli to know abojût an old love-affair wliich lias burned out montlis ago. You know we look upon à rnan wlio kisses and tells as the greatest coward and villain possible." " Certainly," said the German, gathering up his basket of curiosities, " when he tells any thing about a girl which is previously unknown he must be so. But in this case, as you must be a\mre, it was a public matter which was the common talk of Eome, so that you are not really doing Miss Mary Saunderson any in jury by discussing her case with me. Bat still, I respect yoiir sciruples, and so good night ! " " Wait a bit, Burger," said Kennedy, laying his hand upon the other's arm; "I ara very keen upon this catacomb business, and I can't let it drop quite so easily. Would you mind asking me something else in ' returh — something not quite so eccentric this time ? " " No, no ;-you hâve refused, and there is an end of it," said Burger, wi^th liis basket on his arm. " No doubt you are quite right not to answer, and no doubt I ara ^uite right also — and so again, my dear Kennedy, good night ! "" , The Englishman watched Burger cross the room, and he had his hand on the handle of the door before his host sprang up with the air of a man who is making the best of that which cannot be helfied. ' ^Hold ûn^ old, fellow^' said- Im^ 'iX thitt V yon ar o behaving in a most ridiculous fashion ; but still, if this is your condition, I suppose that I must submit to it. ■•■;«?• .«at 306 THE NEW CATACOMB. I hâte saying anythiDg about a girl, but, as you say, it is ail over Eome, and I don't suppose I can' tell you anything which you do not know already. What waa it you wanted to know ?" The German came back to the atove, and, laying down his basket, he sank into his chair once more. " May I hâve another cigar ? " said he. " Thank you very much ! I never smoke when I work, but I enjoy a chat much more vhen I am under the influence of tobacco. Now, as regards this young lady, with whom you had tjiis little adventure. "What in the world haa become of her ? " " She is at home with her own people." " Oh, really— in England ? " "Yes." " What part of England— London ? " " No, Twickenhara." " You raust excuse my curiosity, my dear Kennedy, ànd you must put it dôwn to my ignorance of the world. No doubt it is quite a simple thing to persuade a young lady to go off with you for three weeks or 3 and then to hand her over to her own family at — what did you call the place ? " " Twickenham." " Quite sb — at Twickenham. But it is something so entiroly eutside^my owa«xperieace that î cannot even "Not he. He^had found one or two objecta which' made me almost certain that his house was biiilt on the entrance to such a place. S6 I rented ît from Him, and did my excavations for myself. Comè in, "^nd shut- the " door behind you." It was a long, empty building, with the mangers of the cows along one Wall, Burger put his lanteni down on the groiind, and shaded its light in ail directions save one by draping his overcoat round it. " It might excite remark if any one saw a light in this lonely place," i?aid he. " Just help me to move this boarding." The flooring was loqsQ in the corner, and plank by plank the two savants raised it and leaned it against the wall. Below there was a squiare aperture and a stair of old stone steps which led away down'into the bo^els of the earth. \ " Be careful ! " cried Burger, as Kennedy, in his impa- tience, hurried down them. ''It is a perfect rabbit's- warren below, and if you were once to lose your way there the chances would be a hundred to one against your ever coming ont again. Wait until I bring the light." " How do you find your own way if it is so complicated ?" " I had some very narrow escapes at first, but I bave ^gradually leamed A go about There is4i certain System ^ •to it, but it is one which a lost man, if he were in the . dark, could not possibly find out. ' Even now I al way s ^> l\ / THE NEW CATACOMB. 313 A spin out a bail of stj-ing behind me when I am going far into the catacomb, You can see for yourself that it is difficult, but every, one bf thèse passages - divide and ' subdivide a dozen limes before you go a hundred yards." They had destîended some twenty feet from the level of the byre, and they were standiilg now in a square chamber eut out of the soft tufa. The lantem cast a fliclcering lightjbright below and dim above, over the cracked brown walls. In every direction were the black openings of passages Avhicîi radiated from this common centre. " I want you to follow me closely, my friend," said Burger. " Do not loiter to look at anything upon the way, for the place to wliich I will take you contains ail that you can^see, and more. It will save time for us to go there direct." He led the way down one of the corridors, and the Englishman followed closely at his heels. Every now and then the passage bifurcated, but Burger waS evi- ■« dently foUowing some secret marks of his own, for he neither stopped nor hesitated. Everywhere along the walls, packed like the berths upon an emigrant ship, lay the Christians of old Rome. The yellow light flickered over the shrivelled features of the mummies, and gleamed upon rounded skuUs and long, white armbones crossed over fleshless chests. And everywhere as he ^passed Kennedy looked witii wiatful eyes upon inserip-- tions, funéral vessels, pictures, vestments, utensila, ail lying as pious hands had placed theni so many centTJiriea f « 314 THE NEW CÀTACOMB. ago It was apparent to him, even.in tbose hurried, passing glances, that this was the earliest and finesf of the catacombs, containing such a storehouse of Eoman remains as had never before come at one time under the observation of the student. » "What would happen if the light went out?" he asked, as they hurried onwards. " I hâve a spare candie and a box of matches in my pocket. By the way, Kennedy, hâve you any matches ? " " No ; you had better give me some." "Oh, that is alliright. There is no chance of our separating." * " How far are we going ? It seems 'to me that \re hâve walked at least a quarter of a mile." than that, I think. There is really no limit to the toWbs — at^ast, I bave never been able to find any. Tnis is a ver^difficult place, so I think that I will use our bail of string." He fastened dne end of it to a projecting stone an.d he carried the coil in the breast of bis coat, paying it out as he advanced. Kennedy saw thaî^it was no un- necessary précaution, for the passages had become more complex and tortuous than erver, with a perfect network of iritersecting corridors. But thèse ail ended in one large circular hall with a square pedestal of tufa topped with a slab of marble at one end of it^ " By Jove ! " cried Kennedy in an ecstasy, as Burger swung bis lantem over the marble. " It is a Christian '^ M TflllÉîrEW CATACOMB. 315 >altar— probably the first one in existence. Hère is the little consécration cross eut upon the corner of it. No doubt this circular space was used as a church." "Precisely," said Burger. "If I had more time I should like to show you ail the bodies which are buried in thèse niches upon the walls, for they are the early popes and bishops of the Church, with their mitres, their croziers, and fuU canonicals. Go over to that one and lookat it!", ' f Kennedy went across, and stared at the ghastly head which lay loosely on the shredded and mouldering mitre, "This is most interesting," said he, and his voice seemed to boom against the concave vault. "As far as my expérience goes, it is unique. Bring the lantem over, Burger, for I want to see them ail." But the Gèrman had stroUed away, and was standing in 'the middle of a yellow circle of light at the other side of the hall. " Do you know how many wrong turnings there are between this and the. stairs ?" he asked. "There are over two thousand. No doubt it was one of the means of protection which the Christians adopted. The odds are two thousand to one against a man getting out, even if he had a light ; but if he were in the dark it would, of course, be far more difficult." ,-,„" S ol should think" , _ " And the darkness is something dreadful. I tried it once for an experiment. Let us try it again ! " He 316 THE NEW CATACOMB. stooped to the lanteni, and in an instant it was as if an invisible hand^vas squeezed tightly over èach of Kennedy's eyes. Never had lie known what such darkness was. It seemed to press upon hini and to smother biin. It was a solid obstacle against which the bôdy shrank from advancing. He put his handa out to pusli it back frora^iim. '' That will do, Burger," said he, " let's hâve the light agam. But his companion began to laugh, and in that ciçcular room the sound seemed to corne from every side at once. " You seem uneasy, friend Kennedy," said he. " Go on, man, light the candie ! " said Kennedy, im- patiently. X " It's very strange, Kennedy, but I could not in the least tell by the sound in which direction you stand. Could you tell where I am ? " " No ; you seem to be on every side of me." " If it were not for this string wMctf I hold in my hand I should not hâve a notion which way to go." « I dare say not. Strike a light, man, and hâve an end of this nonsense." ^ "Well, Kennedy, there are two things which I understand that you are very fond of. The one is an adventure, and the other is an obstacle to surmount. =^he adventure must be t h e findin g^oljour way ouj of this catacomb. The obstacle will be the darkness and the two thousand wrong tums which make the THE NEW CATACOMB. 317 way a little difficult to find. But you need not hurry, for you bave plenty of time, and when you hait fur a rest now and then, I should like you just to think of Miss Mary Saunderson, and whether you treated her quite fairly." ^ " You devil, what do you mean ? " roared Kennedy. He was running about in little circles and clasping at the solid blackness with botb bands. "Good-bye," said the mocking voiee, and it was already at some distance, "I really do not think, Kennedy, eVen by your own showing that you did the ■^■làhMiil:.- »■■ M '324 Tè'e début OP BIMBASHI JOYCE. fie employinent, the food— evéiything was jthe same. t the end of three weeks he felt that he had been there for inlierminable years. And then at last there came something to break the monotony. pne evening, as the sun was sinking, Hilary Joyce Tif^i slowly down the old carayan road. It had a faéf ination lor him, this narrow track, winding among the\ boulder!^ and curviog up the nullahs, for he re- membered iiow in the map it had gone on and on/ stretching aWay into the unknown heart of Africa. The countless pads of înnumerable camels through many centuries had beaten it smooth, so that now, unused and deserted, it still wound away, the strangest of roads, a foot broad, and perhaps two thousand miles in length. Joyce wondered as he rode how long it was ' since any traveller had journeyed up it from the south, and then he raised liis eyes, and there was a man coming along the path. For an ins^tant Joyce thought that it might be one of his own men, but a second glance assured him that this could not be so. The étranger was dressed in the flow- ing robes of an Arab, and not in the close-fitting khaki of a soldier. He was very tall, and a high turban . made him seem gigantic. He strode swiftly along, with head erect, and thebearingofaman who knows no'fear. -^^Q^^g^HJ^^lJ^Qf this formidable giant wming ont of the unknown ? The precursor possibly of a horde çf Savage spearmen. And where could he hâve walked ■ I- •i^mm ■ ", |x;.ti.:'ïi!ii^*'i /"'i- W^- k THE ,DÉBUT OP BIMÔASHI JOYCE. 325 from ? The nearest well was a long hundred miles down.the track. At any rate the frontier post ef Kurkur couM not afford' to receive casual visitors. Hilary Joyce whisked round his horse, galloped into camp, and gave the alarm. Then, with twenty horse- naen at his back, he rode ont again to reconnoitre. The man was still coming on in spite of thèse hostile préparations.' For an instant he had hesitâted when first he saw the cavalry,. but escape was out of the, question, and he advanced with the air of one who makes the best of a bad job. He made no résistance, and said nothing when the jiandq of two troopers clutched àt his shoulders, but walked quietly be- tween their horse§, into camp. Shortly afterwàrds the patrols came in again. There were no signs ofany Dervishes. The man was alone. A spifendid t-rotting camel had been found lying dead a little way down the track. The mystery of the stranger's arrivai was explained. But why, and whence, and whither ?— thèse were questions for wjiièh a zealous officer must find an • • • > answer. •- Hilary Joyce was disappointed that there were no Dervishes. It would haVe been a great start for him in the Egyptian army had he fougl^t a little action on his own account. But eveû as iti Tvas, he had a rare le cHaSce of împressmg tke authçrities. îîe wouïd lovë^ to show his capacity to the head of the Intelligence, and even more to thî>.t grim Chief who never forgot ■■î li.ïLÀ si.^'i.,.-^ -T. '>. '-- '7f I -^ \-^' / 326 THE DÉBUT OF^BIMBASHI JOYCE. what wa^ smart, or forgave what was ' slàck. The prisoner's dress and bearing showed that he was of importance. Mean men do not ride pure-bred trotting ca^^els. Joyce sponged his head with cold water, drank a cup of strong coffee, put on an imposing officiai tarboosh instead of his sùn-helme^, and formed himself into a court of inquiry and judgment under the acacia tree. . " ' ,, He would bave liked his pteDple to hâve seen him now, with his two black orderlies in waiting, and his Egyptian native ofïicer at his side. He sat behind a camp-table, ^nd the prisoner, stroçgly guarded, was led • up to iiim. The man was a handsome fellow, with bolji grey eyes and a long black beard. " Why ! " cried Joyce, " the rascal is making faces at me." A curions, contraction had passed over the man's features, but so swiftly that it might hâve been a nervous twitch. He was now a model of Oriental gravity. " Ask him who he is, and what he wants ? " The native officer did so, but the stranger made no reply, save that the same sharp spasm passed once more over his face. " Well, l'm blessed ! " cried Hilary Joyce. " Of ail =-^ impudent scoundr&ls4-^^ïe keeps oir ^wkrfcing Ttfr= me. Who are you, you rascal ? Give an aocount of yoiirself 1 D'ye hear ?" ''^* i ! THE DÉBUT OP BIMBASHI JOYCE. / 327 But the tall Arab was as impervious to English as to Arabie. The Egyptian tried again and again. The prisoner looked at Joyce with his inscmtable eyes, and occasionally twitched his face at him, but neyer opened his mouth. The Bimbashi scratched his head in bewilderment. ' " £ook hère, Mahomet Ali, we've got to get âome sensé ont of this fellow. You say there are no papers on him?" ^. " No, sir ; wé foùnd no papers." . ' " No due of any kind ?" , ' " He bas corne far, sir. A trotting' ca^el does not dieeasily. He has.come from Dongola, at least." "Well, we must get him to talk." *' It is possible that he is deaf and duinb.". " Not he. I never saw a man look more ail there in my life." " You might send him across to Assouan." " " And give some one else the crédit ! No, thank you. This is my bird. But how are we going to get him to find his tongue?" The Egyptian's dark €y«^ skirted the encampment and rested on the cook's lire. "Perhaps," said h^ "if the Bimbashi thought fi* " He looked a^ thé prisoner and then at the burning wood. " No, no, it wouldn't io. No, by Jove, that's going toofar." ,.'ji^' <■ 328 '>^ THE DÉBUT OP BIMBASHI JOYCE.' "A veiylittlemightdoit." ' , " No, no. It's ail very well hère, but it would Sound just awful if ever it got as far as Fleet Street. But, I say," he whispered, "we might frighten him a' bit. There's no harm in that." '^' "No, sir." \ ^ ^ > . " Tell them to undo the man's galabeeah. Order them to put a horseshoe in the fire and make it red-hot." The prisoner watched the proceedings with an air which had more of amusement than of uneasinéss. He never winced as the black sergeant approached with the glowing shoe held upon two bayonets. "Will you speak now?" asked the Bimbashî, savagely. The prisoner smiled gently and stroked his beard. " Oh, chuck the infernal thing away ! " cried Joyce, jumping up in a passion. " There's no use trying to bluff the fellow. He knows we won't do it. But I can and I witi flog ^m, and'you tell him from'me that if he hasn't fouoiîf his^^^ongue by to-morrow moming, l'U take the skin off his back as sure as my name'a Joyce. Hâve you said ail that ? " "Yes, sir." " Well, you can sleep upon it, you beauty, and a good night's rest may it give yotf ! " _Je adjouraed the Cour t, aadM^be ^risoner^ «s im*— perturbable as ever, was led away by the guard to his supper of rice and water. il \ a I THE DÉBUT OP BIMBASHI JOYCE. 329 Hilary Joyce waâ a kind-hearted man, and his own ■■ , ■ * sleep was considerably disturbed by tlie prospect of the puiishment which he must inflict next day. He had hopes that the mere sight of the koorbash and the thongs might prevail over his prisoner's obstinacy. And then, again, he thought how shocking it would be if the man proved to be really du^ after ail. The possibility shook him so that he had almost determined by daybreak that Jie would send the stranger on unhurt to Assouan. And yet what a tame conclusion it would be to the incident! He lay upon his angareeb still debating it wjien the question suddenly and effectively settled itself. Ali Mahomet rushed into his tant. " Sir," he cried, " the prisoner is gone !" "Gone!" " Tes, sir, and your own beat riding camel as well. There is a slit eut in the tent, and he got away unseen in the early morning." The Bimbashi acted with ail energy. Cavalry rode along every track ; scouts examined the soft sand of the wadys for signs of the fugitive, but no trace \^as discovered. The man had utterly disappeared. With a heavy heart Hilary Joyce wrote an officiai report of the matter and forwarded it to Assouan. Five ^ays later there came a cuit order from the CMef that he -.'". should: report hlmself there. He fearëd the worst' fromT the stem soldier, whô spared others as little as he spared himself. •'Il ''\ i.i /m, i-v' 330 THE DÉBUT OF BIMBASHI JOYCE. And his worst forebodings were realized.' Travel- stained and weary, he reported himself one night at the General's quarters. Behind a table piled with papers and strewn with maps the famous soldier and hisChiefof Intelligence were deep in plans and figures. Their greeting was a cold one. "I understand, Captain Joyce," said the General, , " that you hâve allowed a very important prisôner to slip throtigh your fingers." " I am sorry, sir.' ' " No doubt. But that will not ménd matters. Did you ascertain anything about him before you lost him?" " 1^0, sir. " " How was that ?" "I could get nothing out of him, sir." •M^id you try ? " " Yes, sir ; I did what I could." " What did you do ? " " Well, sir, I threatened to use physical force." " What did he say ? " j " He said nothing." " What was he like ? " " A tall man, sir. Rather a desperate character, I ehould think." ILAny way by^whi^we^eo^d idenfetgy M mi" ^^ "A long black beard, sir. Grey eyes. nervous way of twitching his face." And a \ MUA H-v THE DÉBUT OF BIMBASHI JOYCE. 3ai a \ "Well, Captain Joyce," said the General, in his stern, inflexible voic^ " I cannot congratulate y ou upon your first exploit in the Egyptian army, You are aware that every English ofïïcer in this fSrce is a picked man. I hâve the whole British army from which to draw. It is necessary, therefore, that I should insist upon the very highest efficiency. It would be unfair upon the others to p'ass over any obvions want of zeal or intelli- gence. You are seconded from the' Royal Mallows, I understand ?" "Yes.sir.", " I hâve no doubt that your Colonel will be glad to see you fulfiUing your regimental duties again." f Hilary Joyce's heart was too heavy for words. He was silent. " I will let you know my final décision to-morrow morning." Joyce saluted and tumed upon his heel. "You can sleep upon that, you beauty, and agopd, night's rest may it give you !" Joyce turned in bewilderment. Where had those words been used before ? Who was it Vho had used them? The General war-^tanding erect. Both he and the Chief of the Intelligence were laughing. Joyce stared at the tall figure, îhè erect beafîng, the inscnitable grey eyes. " Good Lord ! " he gasped. «^ + A^%t iJij M 332 THE DÉBUT OP BIMBASHI JOYCE. "Well, well, Captain Joyce, we are quitsi" snid the General, holding ont his hand. " You gave me a bad ten minutes with that infernal red-hot honeshfie of yours. iVe done as mnch for you. I don't think we can spare you for the Royal Mallows just yet awhile." , "But, sir; but !" "The fewer questions thebetter, perhaps. But of course it must seem rather amazing. I had a little private business with the Kabbabish. It must be done in person. I did jt, and came to your post in my retura. I kept on winking at you as a sign that I wanted a word with you alone." " Yes, yes. I begin to understand." " I couldn't give it away before ail thçee blacks, or where should I hare been the next tiitte 1 «sed my false beard and Arab dress ? You |llî^!9e.,% a very awkward position. But at last I fi^^^^îrd alone with your Egyptian officer, who managéCn^IjUlPipe ail right." "He! Mahomet Ali!" "I ordered him to say nothing. I had a score to settle with you. But we dine at eight, Captain iToyce. We live plainly hère, but I think I can do you a little better than you did me at Kurkur." X v^ / A FOREIGN OFFICE ROMANCE. TiiERE are "^âj^^Ml^ho knew Alphonse Lacour in his old âge. l^Krt^ the time of the Eevolution ol '48 until he-di^B^e second year of the CrinMpm War he was always to be found in the same corner of the Café, de Provence, at the end of the Rue St. Honoré, coming down about nine in the evening, and iroin» ^when he could find no one to talk with. It took some self-restraint to listen to the old diplorûatist, for hia storÊ^s %er^ beyond ail belief, and yét he was quick at detèctiiig the sha(|ow of a siïîîle or the slightest little raising of the eyebrows. Then his huge, rounded back would straighten itself, his bulldog chin would project,, and his r's would burr like a ^yjÉfrdrum. When he got as far as " Ah, monsieur r-r-r-nf! " or "Vous ne me cr-r-r-royez pas donc ! " it was quite time to remember that you had a ticket for thfeopera. There was his story of Talleyrand and the five oyster- skells, and there was his utterly absurd account of Napoleon's second visit to Ajaccio. Thep there was tha t mo st circumat^^ntial romance (which he never^ ventured upon until his second bottle had been un- corked) of the Emperor's escape from St. Helena — how 833 t'«V )si/i^^ ■- , ^- V. i,. 334 A FOREIGN OFFICE ROMANCE. he lived for a whole year in,' Philadelphia, while Count Herbert de Bertrand, who was liis living image, per- sonated liim at Longwood. But of ail his stories there was none which was more notorious than tliat of the "Koran and the Foreign Office messenger. And yet when Monsieur Otto's memoirs were written it was found that there -really was some foufdation for old Lacour's incredible statement. " You must know, monsieur," he would say, " that I left Egypt after Kleber's assassination. I would gladly hâve stayed on, for I was. engaged in a translation of the Koran, and between ourselves I had thoughts at the time of embracing Mahometanism, for I was deeply struck by the wisdom of their views about marriage. They had made an incredible mistake, however, upon the subject of wine, and tins was what the Mufti who attempted to couvert me could never get over. Then when old Kleber died and Menou 6q,me to the top, I felt that it was time for mh to go. ■ It is not for me to speak of my own capaeities, monsieur, 1but you will readily underSand thgit the man does not care to be ridden by the *Çnule. I caraied my K©ran and my papers to London, where Monsieur Otto had been sfent by iji^e first Consul to arrange a treaty of peàce ; for both nations were very weary of the war, which had already last|Nl ten years. Hère I was most nseful to Mon- sîeur Otto on account of my knowledge of the |)ngiish J^ongue, aM also, if I niay say so, on accouj^t of my 4 A FOREIGN OFFICE ROMANCE. 335 natural capacity. They were liappy days during M'bich I lived iu the Square of Bloorasbury. The climate ^ monsieur's countiy is, it niust be confessed, détestable. But then what would you hâve ? Flowers grow hest in the rain. One has but to point ta monsieur's fellow- countrywomen to prove it, "Well, Monsieur Otto, our Ambassador, was kept terribly busy over that treaty, and ail of his staff were worked to death. We had not Pitt to deal with, -whieh was perhaps as well for us. He was a terrible man that Pitt, and wherever half a dozen enemies of France were plotting together, there was his sharp-pointed nose right in the middle of them. The nation, however, had been thoughtful enough to put him out of office, and we had to do with Monsieur Addington. But Mi- lord Hawkeebury was the Foreign Minister, and it was with him that we were obliged to do our bargaining. "You can understand that it was no child's play. After ten years of war each nation had got hold of a great deal which had belonged to the other, or to the other's allies. What was to be given back? And what was to be kept? Is this island worth that peninsula ? If we do this at Venice, will you do that at Sierra Leone ? ilf we give up Egypt to the Sultan, will you restore the Cape of Good Hope, which you haveiakiyrirom our allies theDu tch. So w e wran^rlp.d and wrestled ; and I hâve seen Monsieur Otto corne back to the Embassy so exhausted that his as!-;. » > i q i i " 336 A FOREIGN OFFICE ROMANCE. •■o, secretary and I had to help him from his carriage to his sofa. But at last tbings adjusted themselves, and the night came round when the treaty waa to be finally signed. " Now you must know tbat the one great card wbich ^' we beld, and wbicb we played, played, played at every point of the game, was tbat we had Egypt. The En^^lish were very nervous about our being there. It aave us a foot on each end of the Mediterïanean, you see. And they were. not sure that tbat wonderful little Napoléon of ours might not. make it the base of an a'dvance against India. So whenever Lord Hawkes- bury proposed to retain anything, we had only to reply, ' In that case, of course, we cannot consent to evacuate Egypt,' and in this Way we quickly brought him to reason. It was by the help of Egypt that we gained terms which were remarkably favourable, and especially * that we caused the English to consent to give up the Cape of Good Hope ; we did not wish your people, monsieur, to hâve any foothold in South Africa, for *history bas taught us that the British foothold of one half-century is the British Empire of the next. It is ^ not your army or your navy against which we bave tb guard, but it is your terrible younger son and your man in search of a career. When we French bave a posses- BJon ac rb ss ^e^ 3eaa,^w& like . ta ait la P a ris B n dtQ, felicitate ourselves upon it. With you it is différent. You take your wives and your children, and you nui wiiniif. Il iind' rî« ■■II' A POREIGN OFFICE ROMANCE. sa TÎage to his /es, and the be finally , card which '^ed at every Igypt. The y there. It rtfanean, you b wonderful ; the base of )rd Hawkes- aly to reply, to evacuate ight him to t we gained id especially give up the yoMT people, 1 Africa, for thold of one next. It is L we bave tb ad your man ive a posses- Paris and to ; is différent, and you nin away to see what kind of place this may be, and after that we might as well try to take that old Square of Bloomsbury away from you. y "Wel^ it was upon the first of Octoberithat the treaty wasjinally to be signed. In the mornmg I was congratulating Monteur Otto upon the happy conclu- sion of his labours. Heew^as a little pale shrimp of a man, very quick and nervous, and he was so delighted now a^hjs own success that he could not sit still, but ran about the room chattering and laughing, while I sat on a oushion in the corner, as I had learned to do in the East. «'^uddenly, in came a messenger with a letter which had been forwarded from Paris. Monsieur Otto cast his eyes upon it, and then, without a word, his knees gave way, and he fell senselesa upon the floor. I ran to him, as did theV€ourier, and between us we carried him to th^ sofa. He might hâve been dead from his appearance, bj^t I could still feel his heart thrilling benëath my pa^. " ' What is this, then ? ' I asked. " ' I do not know,' answered the messenger. ' Mon- sieur Talleyrand told me to hurry as never man hurried before, and to put ftiis letter into the hands of Monsieur Otto. I was in Paris at midday yesterday.' " I know that I am to blame, but I could not help ^lancing afe tlw lefcter, picking itr^oTrtr^-thr^eïïseléss hand of Monsieur Otto. My God ! the thunderbolt that beside my it was! I did not faint, but I sat down \ • 338 A FQRETGN Oî-FICE ROMANCE.* chfef and I burst into tears. - It was but a few words, but they told us that Egypt had been evacuated by (Wr. troops a month before. AU our treaty was undone ; then and tbe one considération which had induced our j enemies to give us good terms had vanished. In twelve ' • hours it would not hâve mattered. But now the treaty \ ' was not yet eigned. We should hâve to give up the Cape. We shDuld hâve to let England hâve Malta. J ^ Now that Egypt was gone we had^nothing to offer in , '. ' > ■ exchange. ' '' , I ■ " But we are not «o easily beaten, we Frenchmen. :, r You English misjudge us when you think-that because ' ! / we show émotions which you conceal, that we are |: ^ therefbre of a weak and womanly nature. You cannât read your historiés and believe that. Monsieur Otto recovered his sensés presently, and we took counsel what we should do. , " ' It is useless to go on, Alphonse,' said he. ' This Englishman wUl l^ugh at me when I ask him to sign.' " ' Courage ! ' I cried ; and then a sudden thought ■ i coming into my head-' How do we know ttiat the English will ha^e news of this? Perhap^ they may ! si^n the treaty before they know of it.' ° Monsi eur Otto sprang from the sofA aAd flung himseïf into ihy arms. " ' Alphonse,' he cried, ' you Mve saved me ! Why should they know about it ? Our news has corne from . ■% ■ ew words, tedbyotir/ r- as undone Qdiiced our In twelve ^ the treaty ive up the lave Malta. to offer in . Frenchmen. hat because ;hat we axe You cannot msieur Otto ook counsel i he. 'This ^ ask him to ,den thought Qow that the ps- they may fâ aAd flung idme! Why as corne from V » «i-'P»* VI , / .'A FO^IGN OFFICE ROMANCE. 339 • Toulon to Paris, and thence straight to London. Theirs * will corné by sea through the Straits of Gibraltar. At this moment it is unUkely that any one in Paris ' knows of it. save only Talleyrand and the first C6nsiil'. f If we keep our secret, we may still get our treaty signed.' ^ "Ah, monsieur, you can imagine the horrible uncer- • ' tainty in whiôh we spent the day. Never, never shall I forget those slow hours diiring which we sat together, ' starting at every distant shout, lest it should be the' first sign of the rejoicing which this news would cause in London. Monsieur Otto passed from youth to âge in a day. As for me, I find it easier to go out ami meet danger than to wait for it. I set forth, therefore, towards evening. I ^andered hère, and wandered there. I was in the fencing.rooms of Monsieur Angelô, and in the salon-de-boxe of Monsieur Jackson, and in the club of Brooks, and in the lobby^the Chamber of Dei^utie^^ût nowhei-e did I hear any ne\ys. Still, it was possible that Milord Hawkesbuiy had received it himself just as w^d. He lived in^ariey Stre^ and there it vçàs that 'the treaty ^f^\o. be tinally sj«Jrl ^ . that night at eight.. I entreaU Monsieur O^lo drink two glasses ofBurgundy before he went,. f^ I feared lest his haggard face and trembling hands 7^1ïoradrouse suspicion inlhe English minister/ ' ."Well, we went round together in one^ of the Embassy's carnages, about half-past seven. Monsieur # r». 'îKr.' Q •«.: m^i '340 ^A FOREIGN OFFICE He knairîïrnothiig;? ha^whis — ^^- ■ ■- --^ n^xthalf^hourV^r^overh ■0f ^m^M:''.-m'^'^m>.^^ niy hand'in b '''■^^■\r^':''^^ to move one of thé fe nie u sign when it i^^fâ ' «,„ ,^« . . ^ hatrë&flon?' . ' % "• ■ ^^ . Btil then no messenger shalî interriipt youmypVomise-I,-4ipiionseLacour' >ed my-hand-in both of^lus. 'Ishall„.ake . ,.<*f ^^^^ °°6 of the candie on to fhp foKi • |. ™ ^^^'^ ^^tiog beside the carriage. f I' " Weli; if )»e could but secure ourseïves from^nf flirectiob of Oxford Street. Ah, if it shonld be tho messenger! What could I do' T „• ■ yes, even to kiU him, rather than at thi, I»«t moment allow èur n-nrW ^„ i,„ j ^* to make a .lo! . "'"^™'' Thonsand, die „ . , .^ ' "■'^- .™y «''««" not one die to make a glorious peace ? What though^y 1!!.;!^ to the seaffold ? I should hâve sacrifie m'i^^r conntry, I had a little enWed TnrkîHI^V I to mv v«k iir 1 j . iSi^HW" Strapped -»y ^m. My hand was orf m^.it w hen the {»e prepared. V carriaffé _.^- ■ . , llj hada l arm edme^i '"But another'^might, corne. ••(■■■■«««WBsaM l'T' with hfe nterrujpt Jour.' tll make table in 3, whilst i inter- be i)ur vhen I )m the be the xed to ' lis last ds die die to edme )r ïay ' ipped n the V Jtine. •ared. A TOBEION OfPICE ROMANCE.- 341 you ^11 a hackney coaoh. Thea I spoke to the driver '"Ail right, master; said he, t.wing his slow eve, upon me ^tho.t a trace of excite.ent "or ..riti ' - If I enter your coach ,rith anotl.er gentleman, you orders froni auy one but me. When I get out you will ' ea^^the otber gentlet^n to Watier. Lb ^Z^ . " ' ^ nght, master,' said he again yoroau T^T^'"' ''""' «"-k-burys house, and you^^oag^ thmt ho,v often my eyes went „p to that « ndo. .0 the hop, of seeing the candie twinkle in Ï ^-e minutes pa^sed, and anotherfive. Oh, how skw Iv €V «T** . t"™"» "'0 dim oil-Iamps. I could .. seejftyp«.é,,,,erd^^^^^^^^ -;«e,are l.:S^£i^:3>-- thefip 13 uothinff of the ffii^^r.,- € ^onaer, but 18 a ;îv 1 - • .■■ ^V^", ^ 1 , 3J3^ A FOREIGN OFFICE RÇMANOB. eiiyU) be mhabited by œales R„f .J »mid the da.p and tL % "th tl ! ' ™" "'^'"' - r.y be„t, . .ee.ed th/^ r^f f-^^'^^ ' — >vIiole wide worl^ t i ^^edriest spot m the and g™„ ,„„der and louder Id T "'' "''"■' -ou.h t.. ,^^ ,„, , .i»^;r;:e :ï;r:r:r door of the Foreign Minister Tf i ^ ^ ^^^ «•bUe the driver turned bis h„*„ T ''*?'• fte fog once more. ^^'■""' '■'""^<' «^ '"^ i'eiglite.to wbicb I riae ! " ' f ■""" ^'""'eive the ■■^■oe. tH tbe f^i. 0™ 4ei , ~'' ""^° ^. ' Yes,' said he. \ . "T bave beenwaitiDg for, yo„ half,„ ho^,.,,y , - You are to foUow me at once. He is wifl, thl l!l [' Ambassador.' . "'' » «^«'^ the l'rebçh \ "I «poke wi.h ^eh as^rance that he never hesitate^ ^ \ ■■ '-'ï~*..^=.;:"' 7'^sg>^i| ■w nighfc, gnawing )t in the ping my ûy ears. 3 traffic 1 itself, clearer iashin» to the before steps, ff into^ é^ A FOREIGN OFFICE ROMANC lE/ 343 for an instant. When he entered the hackney coàch and I foliowed him in, niy heart gave such a thrill of*^ joy that I could hardly keep from shouting aloud. He was a poor little créature, this Foreign Office messenger. not much bigger than Monsieur Otto, and I— monsieur can see my hands now, and imagine what they were like when I was seven-and-twenty y ears of âge. "Well, now that I had him in my coach, the question was what I should do with him. I did not wish to hurt him if I could Kelp it. " ' This is a pressing business,' said he. ' I kav^ a despatch which I must deliv^r instantly.' "Our coach had rattled down Harley Street, now, m accordance with my instruction, it turned and began to go up again. " ' HuUo ! ' he cried. * What's this ? ' " ' What then ? ' I asked. " ' We are driving back. Where is Lord Hawkes- bury ?* " ' We shall see him presently.' c^j^H'- " ' Let me out ! ' he shouted. ' There's some trickery in this. Coachman, stop the coach! Let me out, I say ! ' ^I dashed him back into his seat as he tried to tum landle of the door. He roared for help. I clapped pa l m across his mouth . He-jna d& iis t^eth meet= through the side of it. "I seized his own cravat id bound it over his liçs. He still mumbled and t '% W: %4, :>-^^i>en the hovses. stand^^:"- Jf ^ ;i were mustered in front of hi„, i ' 1 '^°" ,""' 8"'"'<', " I hâve loved th« I„ r """""S' •■« «^d, -en.,rane:ifi:::;:n^/;^ '''- "-^ '-i^viewing'theJwa'Bn^irLrK''" 'o-e... And when the/were brl Jttlrb ' ' to eut off their legs and '- * ""^S^ "It was at thi3 moment that tho you„„ >■„„,(,. «Prang at me. My God! how Ixttle I >'"'""'"• of the next fe^ minutes - T T ' """««"«^ ofaman K. ^7. ^' "'"""'oxer, thi, ,hred "I a man. He had been trained to «trika r . ■ .. catch him by the hands. Pac pac h'" '' "^ noseand npon mveve T „Ti ^"^ "I*" »/ uupvnmyeye. I put down mv hen/l nt„i .i. . at him with it t> v ^ ^ "'"' tanut uxm wit^ it. Pac, he came from Lelo»-. IM ah , I was too mnch for him. Ihnried myJ„J„ h aud he had no place where he could eliT "' -ight. He feu flat npon «.e JlZZ ^12 • n>yse.f uj«„ him with such conviction CL^, flew from him as from a burst bellows ^ u uuB 1 secuted his wnsts, and widi ««„*!. ihen 1 tied the cravat round bi, mouth K'*''^''^ A FOREIGN OFFICE ROMANCE. 347 again, so that he could only Ue and glare at me. When I had done ail this, and had stopped the bkeding of my own nose, I looked ont of the coach, and ah,<,monsieur, the very first thing which caught my evea was that candie, that dear little candie, glimraeîlng in the window of the minister. Alone, vvith thèse tvro hands, I had retrieved the capitulation of an army and the loss' of a proviiice. Yes, monsieur, what Abercrombie and five thousand men had done upon the beach at Aboukir was undone by me, single-handed, in a hackney coach in Harley Street. " Well, I had no time i;o lose, for at any moment- Monsieur Otto might be down. I shouted to my driver, gave him his second guinea, and allowed him to proceed to Watier's. For myself, I sprang into our Embassy Carriage, and a moment later the door of the minister opened. He had himself escorted Monsieur Otto 4ownstairs, and now so deep was he in talk that he walked ont bareheaded as far as the carriage. As he stood there by the open door, there came the i-attle of wheels, and a man rushed down the pavement. "'A despatch^^^l^reat importance for Milord Hawkesbury ! ' he Wm. "l could see that it was not my messenger, but a second one. Milord Hawkesbury caught the paper ^feoB^^s hand,^* mett bylhëlipTof thê^^^^ lamp. His face, monsieur, was as white as this plate before he had finished. \Jl :i" * Ml 348 A FOREIGN OFFICE ROMANCE, '"Monsieur Otto,''he cried, 'we hâve signed this treaty upon a false understanding. Egyptis in our hands.' " ' What ! ' cried Monsieur Otto. "^ impossible ! ' " ' It is Gertain. I^ feU to Abercrombie last month.' '"In that case,' said Monsieur Otto, ' it is very fortunate that the treaty is si^ed.' ." 'Very fortunate for you, sir/ cried Milord Hawkes^ burf, and he turned back to the hou«e. ■ ' "Next day, monsieur, ^at they *call the Èow Street runners were after me, but tJieyMjould not.run across sait water, and Alphonse Lacour W^ receiving the congratulations of Monsieur Talleyrand an| tha first Consul before ever his pursuers had got as fër al Dover.'" y y <• V. ■ » f . * Tlip END. -si â^ «> rmtlTI l) Bï WILLIAM CLOW^TÂÏ^ONs'KÏ.^J'k T' DON ANB fl^CCLM. * • ■,f *> ve signed this igypt is in our possible ! ' e last month.' 0, ' it is very 'ilord Hawkes- ail the Bow Sould not.run was Teceivinar * 1 rapd an| tha _V fi.r got as fsiv aà # ■ 1» t. >*1 ^ ^ t0f / #î? % •4 %• u « * I • y. • 4. . I» ' ^, • *. IK» S^CCLM. * • •"* /■ 1 ^i» «'t «» a * ^. r»(^ é ^3 f. ■'té *5. 'V K , ■ * ' ■ » •,. A * .^ . * m . ft ■• ■ l^ «1 , J- •• \s • ^ !• 1 > - . •■ , ,» S? n'^ " r» 1 « f ' " -' ' . -• I; -*' • > "' * ' • ■ â