Bugle.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 170, 20 July 1935, Page 8 (Supplement)

Bugle.

/> ° sy RAYMOND RAIFE

(Concluded.) PART m. Plausibly piloted by his assistant, Billy went to have as good a look at it as he dared, and the principal thing that he at once noticed was that while every person who came in sight of the hut took one glance at it, all were careful not to gaze so for long. Subsequently he learned that such was a law of the Fontano, whose every adult had been required in that way to make sure that the hut remained safe, while i t the same time remembering that it was too sacred to be stared at. "Which was not half a bad way of thwarting the intentions of such a hut-breaking interloper ae I meant to be," confessed Billy, whose reconnaissance of the scene of action, however, only tended to confirm his faith in- the bold method of attack that he had already formed in his mind.

"At any rate," he told himself, "it is the only plan at all possible. Everything now depends upon the extent of Fontano faith in their own myths and legends, and the ability of Billy Piatt himself to carry through a glorious game of bluff. If he succeeds, then Banja's bugle shall surely' be won back for the K.A.R. If the plot fails, then, maybe, Billy Piatt's skull will take its own place as a memento in the Sacred Hut, beside the Captured Bugle and the witch doctor's Magic Cloak."

For the hour of his operations Billy chose mid-day, or, rather, a little later, because then most of the inhabitants were either resting or at work indoors, hiding from the heat. For all that, plenty of them were still actively out and about, and there was probably no moment when at least two or three men or women, without mentioning numerous "piccans," were not in sight, of the hut. Even more annoying was the circumstance that at the back of the hut, where it appeared to be less strongly

built and tlie public roadway did not approach it so closely, there was a kind of covered stall, occupied by a most indefatigable old leather dresser who, regardless of the prevailing temperature, never ceased from diligently scraping an immense ox hide, the result of which busy manipulation of his knife he tossed to an attendant flock of scavenging birds. Every now and again, too, this inopportune old fellow would take a good look all round as he scraped, like one whose adopted duty it was to make sure that the world continued properly on its way. And it was during one of these periodic surveys that the old man saw Billy Piatt, the white trader who had come to the town, pass hurriedly behind the hut, and not reappear on the other side of it. The old man waited for a few moments, then struggled clear of the great ox hide and crossed the road to investigate.

"Help, help! Robbers, thieves! Help, help! The white man is stealing our treasures! Help, help!"

For as the old leather dresser reached the further side of the hut he saw Billy Piatt squeezing himself into it, through an opening that he had cut in the reed wall with his biggest knife. The material of the wall was dry and brittle, offering but little resistance to the slashing blows that were rained upon it. But no sooner had Billy, half-choked by dust, managed to force his way within, than he heard a hubbub arising outside.

"Help! Run for the chief! The Bugle! The Magic Cloak!"

Inside the hut was complete darkness; Billy flashed on an electric torch, and peered about him. Whatever else there was that he saw, he could not afterwards remember, for at once the rays of light fell upon the object of his quest.

lA. Story of the f Kinds African Rifles

Outside the hut, the old leather dresser kept up, or rather increased, his frenzied disturbance. Answering shouts and cries qf alarm sounded

I (Illustrated by K. Simmons.) from near and far, mingled with demands of: "The chief! Fetch the chief!" From its place Hilly reached down the bugle and thrust it into his pocket, its cord around his neck. At that moment a gun was fired, evidently by way of warning that untoward proceedings were afoot, and the uproar in the streets became greater. • Through the large aperture by which lie had entered, Billy peeped out, to see that already an excited crowd had collected, a crowd that kept peering in one direction, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the chief. Then Billy crossed over to the door of the hut and saw that it was secured simply by an ordinary wooden native latch, raising which, he drew back the door but an inch or so, in order to survey on that side. Slight as was the movement, it was instantly detected, and a howl of resentment went up from a hundred throats. For the wide street was blocked by the number of persons that now swarmed in seething riot within it, jostling and struggling for a better view of they knew not what, the while they kept repeating their constant clamour for "The chief!"

The chicf arrived at last, having no doubt waited to don some of his apparel of state, accompanied by a bevy of court officials. As they came through the throng, Billy could sec that these men were armed, and from their actions were making ready their weapons. Ten paces from the door of the hut the chief halted and gave an order to the others, when, spreading out fanwisc, each poised his spear.

"White robber, come forth," the Fontano chief shouted, fronting the door, "for you shall die out here, and not within the Sacred Hut that for your own wicked purpose you have foolishly dared to enter. For you there is no escape. Come forth, white robber, I say!"

Whereupon Billy Piatt, nerving his soul to the task, threw open wide the door of the hut, and stepped forward to meet whatsoever be his fate.

A cry of surprise greeted him, a cry that bore with it something that sounded like a wail of acknowledged defeat. No shot was fired, no epcar was thrown. Instead of that, silence and strange stillness fell upon the throng. For as the white man advanced towards the black chieftain, it was seen that he was protected. Secure in the knowledge that he had gained of Fontano superstitions, Billy Piatt was wearing around his shoul-

ders the Magic Cloak of Icambo, tlie Fontano witch doctor, whose lust words, as all were aware, had foietold sudden death to any Fontano who presumed to touch or injure that garment which, as Icambo had said, lie would, in other form, some day return to claim. "Puny chief of tlie discredited Fontano, speak not to me," retorted Billv in contemptuous tones, USK?ing forward as the others retreated before him in a manner as if he were ilriviiig them. "And know that he who raises a hand against me himself most surely dies. Fools that you are, how could you now me when I came again amongst you as a white man? Do white men ever visit the wretched Fontano? And yet you knew not the wonder that was before your eves!" Here" feeling certain that his plan had indeed swept to success, Billy fiercely fluttered, his feathery covering and, striding in simulated anger right up to the shrinking group, declaimed: "For I am he who was formerly Icambo, the great witch doctor of the now faithless Fontano, a people so stupid that they even desecrate the Magic Cloak I left to remind them of me, by soiling it with the contact of an enemy war trumpet. Down on your knees, all of you, and be thankful that such is "the only reparation that I demand. Whether I shall again come back to you I will not now decide. But in spite of your insults and disregard, I go from you more in sorrow than in rage, as I prove by the gift to you of all the trading goods with which I deceived you when appearing as a white man within this faithless town. Take tliem, and seek to merit that 1 return to you."

Bill}' afterwards declared that tlia idea of telling tliem to keep tlie remainder of liis trade stock was a "crowning master stroke." He said that really and truly his magnificent show of make-believe and bluff, all set out, as it was, behind the screen of old Icambo's Magic Cloak, so much astonished and perplexed everyone from the chief downwards that they didn't rightly know whether they believed it or not. Then came the general scramble for the fine haul of trade goods, which the donor had been careful to bequeath to no one in particular. "And," concludes the triumphant Billy, whenever called upon to repeat the story, "before the excitement of fighting for my odds and ends was over, and the Fontano had come to their sober senses, I had got safely away with the bugle."

To-day, if at any time you should chance to visit the headquarters of the King's African Rifles, the native non-com. who •is in charge of the orderly room there will be proud to open a padlocked glass case for you and take out the battered and bulletholed bugle, upon which you will see that this inscription has been engraved : K.A.R. "Banja's Bugle." With the Thanks of the Regiment to William Piatt,