THE TIGER'S AWAKENING

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIV, Issue 3, 3 January 1903, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE TIGER'S AWAKENING

BY F. C. LUNGE.

(COPYRIGHT. , *

great ***£**> ** **£TJZt ho- after hour in a FlOrfl , fevered restlessness, moving state °f nervous steps from one •** * ther fro* the house to tO / n and bad again to the th£ ** Ind even visiting the goformer; «»* to m up did not appear to feel any ** It could she bring herself subtest interest in any tot t ntd-and-one every-day * that would have claimedl her on at any other time. Even f::;, Lo's complaint that Sani te S h-wallah had totally vanish*non failed to arouse in her ea stow Booniau of . Qter . th ?L? the worthy Khansamah csV, so but withdraw himd ° w Presence, which he did, curses, on the lousebitter c. Eclated "compound wife after another forlorn BeC v trough the house and garover the reranta L« for the twentieth time ** 'ffit Lntly the road that led rSe S groves. This time it \l^l-U Kf&r waiting was to be 1 , JEr rewarded, for as she gazed f≤ mTrmur of confused noises upon the air from that fi£ soon she sa + w> a T a lo d M orange-tinted dust, a string fwpg fi e ures approach the be he, surely," said flora to herself, straining her eyes ewe the dusty veil; "but no-I nit see any horseman; these peo--1 seem to be all natives. I don t L tie look of this at all. A ww* of impending calamity was cr t in? over her with cold fingers «1 filiino- her with growing unrest Safety. What did all these peolewant? Why did not her husband return? Again and again she asked herself these questions, but no explanation seemed to suggest itself. With ilmtcring pulses and changing colour she watched the strangers taw near. Now she could make out , score or so of half-naked ryots Wltn seared and troubled faces. # "Sorabji Dass!" she called m tough the window, "go and ask those people what is the matter, and ,why they are all running this way.'| The major-domo did as he was bidden, and hastened to accost the foremost of the crowd. Then Flora saw him throw up his hands in horror, and a rertigo seized her, so that she had to lean for support against the balustrade, The threatening thunder cloud seemed on the point of bursting over her head. Sorabji Dass came hurrying back Tfith every sign of acute distress, and threw M/flself upon his knees before ils mistress.

"lly Husband—where is he?" stammered the young wife, the words ranging themselves painfully from her white lips. "My poor, poor Memsahib!" cried tie faithful servant, with tears streaming down his cheeks; "a terrible misfortune has befallen us."

A red mist floated before the girl's eyes, and she swayed as if about to pitch forward in a swoon; but by a marvellous assertion of will-power she succeeded in fighting down her weakness, and asked in a low, strained voice: "Is he dead, Sorabji Daas?"

" "Not dead, oh Memsahib, but hoverin? on the brink of Nirvana: » these people say. He killed the tiger, but not before the brute had got within striking distance and done his awful worst."

"Enough. Have a couple of horses wddled and get ready to accompany *c: I go to seek my husband." Before the concourse of panting ryots outside the compound could regain their breath the horses had Deen •Jwnight round from the stables, sad Mrs; Cameron, pale but collected, reappeared upon the stoop, her hat, pnauets and riding-switch contrastoddly with: the old gold Liberty ua-gown which she wore. Sorabji 2 SS i/ lth a rifle slung over his «• t e A ioUowed after and at once wji t0 mo "-*nt. whereupon he gJPed upon Ms own horse, as if he Jjjbeen a ferocious Eajput or Mahatta warrior instead of the peaceful, • diS Ben « ali that he was - Half ZJ, Job's messengers volof T ~° **** them t0 the scene fati™ isaster ' and de spite the Sti 8 ° recently undergone by fct rted ° ff at a brisk with iedTS , canterin S olose upon their eaFrom tune to time Flora's aniof iil^ S to share the impatience gi£T! reSS ' shot ahe ad of the £w KiS? T each tim * (and oh, itS 1^pulled u p b ? ** W ?L not to the disappeared * crowd - P f S ' While the diminishT Z 7 Ot the bu^alow parS th t r ellolirsafter bora's denearly Vii% com P™nd was very whom all Btor yatabriSi tlle l yOt ' S P itiful J". HtoSSSi fr ° m to ils own. w! l.*T } some motive of * iles away w le . d them nearly 23 their, w hom and > af ter dense Slfi 1 ?* 0 the of the T^edasif4v .*' had s "ddenlv s? dan y tiffet l h ° Unds ha <* failed to a,r ba i p ° or, and th sava ? e that t ? had reV At th! 7- S the viotim of a «' c t0 °arR quite y*F£ST* but hi s mystit 8 d,,ra «on G? est ! ned to be of S? and' m - Glancin S along the S' W toSg£?™* --« wife's fa. glad smile Me msahib?» 'vf is the ac demanded of the

ff .i RIGHTS RESERVED

SECOND PART.

CHAPTER VTH

ON THE TRACK.

headsyce who had stepped forward to take charge of his master's horse. "I do not know, Sahib," replied the Arab, with a respectful shrug, "several hours since there came some messengers to say that thou, Sahib, hadst been wounded unto death by the tiger that thou wentest to slay. Then the Memsahib ordered horses for herself and Sorabji Dass and rode away with him to find thee."

At these words a yawning abyss seemed to open at Hector's feet, and a horrid, sickening suspicion chilled the marrow in his bones. Staring upon the syce as if he was looking upon Medusa's head, he sat on his horse like a marole figure, unable to think or act or speak.

Just then the thudding hoof-beats of a swiftly moving horse were heard approaching from the direction of the now gloom-wrapt groves of palms and a few minutes later a riderless steed came tearing into view at a stretching gallop, dragging something heavy after it by the stirrup. The syce ran to meet the horse, and cleverly catching the flying mane (for headstall and bridle were clean gone) brought the animal to a stop within a dozen yards of the still petrified planter. Full of eager curiosity Rashid stooped to examine the dark, dust-covered object on the ground, but instantly shrank back with a scream of horror. This sound snapped Hector's spell. Recovering himself with a jerk, he threw himself from his horse and rushed wildly towards the group. Next moment a hoarse, unearthly cry quivered from his lips and his hands flew up to his throat as if he was choking: the something under the horse's feet was the lifeless body of Sorabji Dass, blood-covered, lacerated and riddled with rifle bullets.

The moon was beaming down in all its glory upon the blue-black masses of the jungle, and illumining with almost daylight brilliance the narrow, dusty road that meandered like a river of quicksilver through the fifty thousand acres of tangled tropical vegetation. The air was still, except for the never-ceasing hum of insects and croaking of frogs, while occasionally tlie barking of a jackal or the snarling roar of an animal of the cat tribe became audible for a time. In brief, the night promised to itself like any other in the wilderness.

Suddenly, however, an unwonted interruption occurred. The quick, regular top a top of a galloping horse rang out upon the air, and presently a mounted man came thundering into view, preceded by two bloodhounds that skimmed along with tails up, tongues out, and noses to the ground. Whatever the nature of his nocturnal business, the horseman was riding at a furious rate of speed, leaning forward like a jockey, spurring his great black Marwari steed again and again, and urging it on to still greater efforts by crying out weirdly from time to time. His hat was gone, and in the moonlight his stern, set face shone white as alabaster, while under the deeply-knitted brows his eyes gleamed with a lurid, half-insane fire. The man was Hector Cameron, in search of his lost wife.

As soon as he had recovered from the shock of his awful discovery the Scotsman, shouting a frantic order to his gillie, had run back to his horse, thrown himself into the saddle, and raced away into the gloom df night like a man possessed. The shikariwallah, as bidden, had slipped the leash and sent the hounds after their master; stung into new activity by the scent of blood, the dogs had quickly overhauled the latter and taken up the grim red trail, instinct telling them for what purpose they were wanted. Like hurtling missiles they shot along the path that led through the palm groves, and close behind them galloped the horseman in his madly eager haste; then onpast rice fields and tea gardens and brakes of sugar cane—until they neared the river, when the trail took a sharp turn to the right, leading almost at right angles away from the water and in among the world of jungle. The rider's hat had been knocked off by a low droopting branch, but he had swept on without heeding the loss, with his hollow, burning eyes rivetted upon the flyin°- phantom dogs in front of him. And now behold him tearing along the lonely path Hie the wild Huntsman of German folk-lore. Presently the panting hounds gave tongue and swerved abruptly off the road and into the steaming jungle. Hector tightened' the reins of Aurung-Zeb and headed him afteT them into the thicket which, at this point, looked as if a herd of elephants had been trampling about. The bloodhounds did not pursue the fresh track very far, for some 20 yards away from the roadside they brought up whining near a large, mottled object that lay huddled in a heap among the stamped down ferns and bamboo reeds. Dashing his rowels into the stallion's sides, the Scotsman plunged towards the spot of this new discovery and flung himself recklessly out of the saddle to examine the find. It was the carcase'of a dapple-grey horse, which— though the kites and jackals had torn and mauled it in a hundred places—Hector soon identified • as Flora's favourite ambler. His glaring, blood-shot eye-balls rolled hither and thither in vain search. Apart from the dead body of the horse there -was nothing whatever to be seen that might have afforded him a clue as to his wife's whereabouts. "Odin, Sagamore—seek, seek! ne urged the hounds, pointing at the surrounding walls of the jungle; and the animals, after sniffing about for a few minutes, finally started off in a new direction. Hector threw himself on to his foam-flecked stallion's back and followed them with despairing eagerness; but after a run of less than a quarter of a mile they came upon a broad, sluggish, green-black river wreathed in ghostly miasmatic mists, where the trail was lost. The horseman, seeing this, ground out a 9a ™ge curse and spurred his unwilling horse down into the water utterly regard-

less of the possibility of danger. However, before he had proceeded more than two paces a huge crocodile thrust its ugly gnarled head through lflfitgsnowCdneck hournf shrdlu mhb the emerald-coloured slime in front of him and opened its horrid, grinthe air in a perfect frenzy of fear. Then Heetdr realized that to attempt a crossing would be equivalent to inviting gratuitous death; so, after wheeling his horse out of the zone of danger, he rode up the bank and returned the way he had come—no longer in a fever of anguished excitement, but slowly, passively, with his head bowed upon his breast and all the life gone out of him. He was a broken man.

Shortly after midgnight the people at the bungalow heard the footfalls of their master's horse outside and hastened eagerly to ascertain the result of his quest. They did not remain in doubt very long. He -was alone, and the look of dull, stony despair upon his face spoke of his failure more plainly than words could have done. In a mechanical manner he dismounted- and resigned the reins of his tired «teed to the waiting headsyce, who noticed that the animal's heaving flanKs as well as the Sahib's spur-rdwels were red with blood. Slowly, with the rigid movements of an automatic machine, the planter walked up fhe steps of the verandah and into the drawing-room. The wallah who came to light up found him sitting motionless upon the sofa—his arms hanging down) limply and his eyes gazing into vacancy with the stupid, doll-like stare of an opium eater. As the lamplight fell upon his face he looked up slowly, and presently a gleam of anguish. kindled in his soulless eyes. The servant vanished and Hector rose unsteadily and glanced round the room. There stood the open piano, with Flora's favourite pieces of music still resting on the ledge; there on the table lay her halffinished crochet work; and yonder on the carpet her tiny white pocket handkerchief, just as she had dropped it. The flowers in those vases had been placed there by her hand; in short, wherever he looked his eyes alighted upon some object intimately associated with his lost wife, and the pain-seared heart within him began to swell as if it would burst. On a side table in one of the corners stood Flora's photograph. With trembling hands he snatched it up and hot tears trickled down his cheeks as his yearning gaze absorbed the beloved features. He kissed the likeness again and again, and then suddenly pressing it to his heart he staggered into the adjoining bedroom «nd in v~e darkness groped about for ZTZ revolver — Rat-tat-tat! A loud, impatient knock at the front door reverberated through the stillness and an instant later a servant tapped at the draw-ino-room door—just as Cameron Sanit>'e band was closing- upon tne handle of the sought-f or weapon. "News of the Memsahib!" announced "the man breathlessly. With a cry like that of a tormented animal the bereaved husband dropped the pistol and reeled towards the door. "Where is she?—where?" he gasped dancing with pathetic eagerness from the servant to the stranger towering beneath the hall lamp—a tall, bearded, grave-faced native who saluted the planter with every mark of respect. , "Sahib," said this man, "I would fain have a word with thee alone. Hector quickly led the way into the drawing-room and shut the door. "What is the news thou bringest7 Speak, speak!" he urged In a low, thick voice. "The Memsahib lives and is unharmed!" replied the stranger, "hut she has fallen among those whose ways are evil." , "Then thou knowest where she Oh. say what has become of her?" cried "the European, with hands clutching the others shoulders in a Want's grip. The native writhed with pain, but maintained command ; over his voice and countenance.

"Dost know thy servant, Sahib? he asked, in counter query to Hector's question. The latter gazed at him for a moment and tnen replied: "Art thou not the Nair whose child I rescued from the buffaloes?" The other bowed. "I am Tippoo the Juggler, and thy debtor to the day of my death. Thou art the saviour of my firstborn—of my little Samru." "But speak, Tippoo, speak! VVhat dost thou know of my poor wife s fate?" , , . "A week ago thou and the fairfaced Memsahib wert the guest.i of the Maharajah at the palace of Pritnagar. I was there likewise—recognised by thee alone." "Yes, yes; but what has that to do with her whereabouts?" "A little patience, noble Sahib! During the intervals between our performances I looked about me as is my wont; and what I saw pleased me but litle, for I perceived with wonder and indigation that Ram Shri Omra had cast his eyes upon thy wife!" . . The words "My God!" escaped in Eno-lish from Hector's lips: a lightning flash broke rfom his eyes, and his finger-nails sank into his palms. The juggler's words had torn the scales from his eyes; and all the uneasy suspicions so long semi-dormant in his breast had in a moment leapt up into fierce, flamboyant life. The episode of the midnight intruder—of that suggestive yataghan sheath—at was a mystery no longer; the story of the Maharajah's guilt was written in blood-red letters upon a ■'backoround of the blackest perfidy. A mad longing seized the betrayed man —a bull-dog impulse to rush straight to the palace and tear his enemy's throat out. So sudden and terrible was the change in his demeanour that the Nair —albeit he had anticipated some* show of feeling—was quite taken aback. "Tell me —where is the Ra.iah now?" The planter hissed forth the words in a hoarse, passionate whisper, the veins of his forehead standing out like purple whipcords. "At his palace in the capital," responded Tippoo, "but I much doubt whether it is there the Memsahib will be found." - "And why not?" snapped the Scotsman, with a mistrustful frown. "Because," answered the juggler 1 very deliberately, "the city of Pritnagar lies to the west from here, whereas the abductors' trail points :in an altogether different direction— towards the Sikhiya Hills in the south-east." Hector mused for a while ana ' found that the other was right.' He I sighed involuntarily, and his fists slowly unclenched themselves. "But, he presently objected, "if the trail

leads towards the mountains, how canst thou tell that this outrage is Earn Shri Oinra's handiwork?"

Tippoo shrugged his, shoulders expressively. "1 know nothing, Sahib, I merely conjecture,"- he explained, "perchance thou rememberest that the Maharajah's summer palace lies among the hills to the rear of the Sikhiya chain."

"By heaven, yes — his summer palace!" exclaimed the young man, firing up again. "I had forgotten that. They have taken her there, without a doubt. Let us start at once in pursuit!" He made a movement toward the door, but the juggler arrested him with uplifted" hand.

"Sahib," he declaimed, sententiousiy, "let us take counsel together like the wise, and not run amok like the bhang-drunk Ghazi of the hills. The infuriated elephant charges to his death against the stone walls of a fortress; but the cunning serpent steals in through the locked and guarded gate."

Hector glanced impatiently at the moraliser.

"And while we waste our time in idle gossip, my poor wife goes to meet God knows what awful fate!"

"Sahib—no. I tell thee that so long as Ram Shri Oinri remains inj his Capital the Memsahib will be safe." A new idea suddenljr flashes across Hector's brain and whipped him into a wild resolution. "I shall go and interview the Maharajah himself!" he declared, in a quick, decided tone that brooked no contradiction; "I shall speak to him as the friend and hunting mate of old times; I shall try and coax him into telling me where he has had my wife removed, and to avow that her abduction was merely meant as a jest. If, however, he wax-

es obstinate or professes ignorance, I shall threaten to invoke the aid of

the Sirkar. We shall see whether he dares to brave the authority of the

Queen."

The juggler, who had listened to this programme with ill-concealed displeasure, now burst into a flood of impassioned appeal. "Do not go, Sahib! Do not go!" he exclaimed, stretching out his hands as if he was going to keep the planter "back by physical io.rce; "thou art trusting to the Maharajah's gratitude and sense of honour; but, 'believe me, thou art putting thy head into a tiger's mouth! Thou thinkest him to be a man of English mind and manners, because he grew to manhood among white men; but I have known him since he was a boy, and tell thee, Sahib, that he is a true cub of the old man-eater who washed his teeth in thy countrymen's blood at Cawnpore!"

Hector turned a shade paler at these words, for Tippoo had unwittingly touched a sore spot in him; but, nevertheless, he maintained an attitude of iron determination and brushed the Nair's arguments and entreaties recklessly aside. With genuine mulish Mghland obstinacy he had made up his mind to "have it out" with the Maharajah; and his decision—once formed—was unalterable as the laws of the Medes and Persians. So after a further vain expenditure of breath, the juggler 'gave np the attempt to stop him, and sulkily withdrew, whilst Hector, realising that it was too late for action that night, threwi himself fully dressed upon his bed—but not to lose himself in the life-renewing mists of a temporary Nirvana.

(To be continued next Saturday.)