The Bike and the Lion

Bruce Herald, Volume XXXI, Issue 3141, 13 February 1900, Page 6

The Bike and the Lion

■ i m A CRITICAL MOMEMT. One morning I started off to visit • village some few miles away from the Mission station. ' The road was wel] cultivated, and about sft wide. It was, in fact, the main road leading to Uganda. I had reached the- top of a? long hill, and on the other side was a gentle slope Into the vall^ beyond ; I knew the road well, haTin^pft^b passed that way, and; I therefore prepared myself for a " coast/ > ' Near the foot of the hiil was a slight tttfn in the road, and as I approached it I put my feet again in the pedale. ' I was going at a great speed, and as I rounded the corner an awful sight met my gaze, not 20 yards in front there lay 1 in the centre of the path a huge lion, with head down upon 'his paws, facing the direction from which I was coming. It was impossible for md to stop the machine, the speed was too great. To the left of the path was a high wall of rock towering some 20ft above my head] on the right 'was a steep incline, down, down, down, for 100 ft to a river. I had scarcely a second to t?ke in the situation and to make! np my mind as to what course to pursue. It was a critical moment. What could I dot To turn to the right down the steep incline would have meant almost certain destruction; to attempt to stop, even if successful, would have meant pulling up at the entrance to the jaws of the king of the forest. I therefore did the only thing that waa possible — I rang my bell, and shouting at the top of my voice, then let the "bike "go at its topmost speed. As I shot into view the lion raised his huge ! shaggy head, and seeing 'this unearthly creature come raciDg towards him making so strange a cry, he lifted up his voice and gave forth a most blood-curdling yelp. \ ; The apparition was too much even for him.-i-A.lft Lloyd's " In Dwarf Land and Cannibal Country."

drunk, tried to lay bis hand oa the matchbox. It was .easier .. said than done. With— rfdr him-^extraprdinary violence and haste he rushed baokward and forward and round about the room, only to run against the bureau and the hard wall when he did not strike against the iron posts of his bedstead or the Je,gß $f his waehßtand. , Finally; he found the cnes£ of drawers, the match-Uofc, Tftjad 'theioanidje, , and felt himßeU BomQwhaV; recovered. But the, devil had not done wjth him yet. His trembling fingers could" not get the matches out of the box • when they did he doul&^hbt light them, 1 and when they were lighted he 'could riot Communicate the. flame to the candle. The matches were piled, up on the marble top of the ohesjG of drawers. After having lighted up, for a moment the pale, terrified face, of Teofilo reflected in the mirror, and each time the room was again left in darkness. £.t last, after many trials, each •of which sent new thrills through Xeofilo'a heart, he Succeeded in lighting the stump of a candle. And there on the floor beneath the fold of a greyish, dirty cloak, he saw outlined the form of a human bbdy f while the collar being" turned back, a white, thin, pointed nose was revealed • the rest of the face oould scarcely be seen, concealed as it was under a shock of red hair, which had been tossed by Teofilo when groping in the dark. For a few minutes the poor man seemed turned to stone. His eyes stared wide open and motionless ; his hair stood up upon his head, his breathing seemed to stop. Then, as though the extremity of bis terror gave him a sudden access of courage, he threw himself upon the cloak and dragged and tore at it in desperation. For a brief moment the body seemed to return to life under the violent shocks. The left arm which had had been lying on the breast, fell rigid along the flank ; the head turned over a little j the mass of red hair fell down upon the shoulder. Teofilo started back a few paces and watched. It was the body of a woman, that lay before him. In life it must have been of pleasing appearance in spite of the saffron-colored hair and emaciated, freckled face. It bore over the region of the heart a great wound from which blood had oozed. Teofilo could not endure the dread spectacles and fell fainting upon the corpse. How long he remained in this awful embrace he never knew, but it was a long time. On recovering, he felt the coldness of death penetrate his bones. He leaped up, and retreating to the chest of drawers, turned away his eyes to avoid the horrid sight. Looking down, he saw his shirt stained with blood, with blood not from his own veins, which he foresaw would be his ruin. He threw himself in an arm-chair, as far away as possible from the corpse. He grasped his head in his hands and seemed to thmk deeply. It was but seeming. In his distraught condition he could think of nothing. The old charwoman Gervasia, the concierge, the ainster face which spied on his house, and perhaps on his person, appeared and disappeared alternatively in his imagination, alone, or in company, authors or accomplices in an atrocious crime for which he would be called to account, Gradually his thoughts took some form, and he could find no reason why they should lay the deed to him. The old womau appeared as she really was, chattering and inquisitive, but a good creature ; the concierge, forward, officious, and curious, but not apparently wicked ; and as for the mysterious stranger he had been outside, perhaps he was not there because of anything connected with Teofilo, with whom, indeed, he never had had any dealings. AH of a sudden an idea darted through his mind, an idea which should have occurred to him at once. The police ! The police, who might, if he remained silent, work his ruio, might also be his salvation if he spoke. Tbe police, with their chains and handcuffs, and all the means at their disposal, would easily be able to unravel the mystery and free an innocent man from this undeserved trouble Innocent? Surely moat innocent ! But how was he to prove that to the police, who are by nature so Bubtly, so diabolically incredulous, suspicions, and inquisitive ? How was he to explain how the murdered girl came to be in his room when the door was locked. Why was she inside and not outside ? How was he to make it evident that he did not know her ; that he had never seen her 3 And in any case how was he to avoid a noisy, public investigation ? How was he to prevent his prospective financee from hearing of it? How was he to Minors from her mind the natural

suspicion that between him .and the dead, a fearful drama, of love had been enacted i How vSrhVto justify himself with his superiors ? How was he to rehabilitate himself in the^ estimation ofcthtae who had held; him >n J^qpest man, and above all a respectable one? i &tlast he* seemed to have decided, and started to go out. As he ! crossed the room/ he saw his face reflected, in. the '„ glass.^ So cuVh torted was it that he was' frightened and drew back. He saw he could never pass that impertinent concierge, who would certainly notice him, stop him, and queationjnin. No, be must wait .there until eleven o'clock, the hour at which the door was closed. Teofilo took out his watch, and by the uncertain light of the candle, which had almost Burned down to the 1 socket, saw that it was half -past ten. So much the fetter.- . , . , . . ,*' ;. ■ The. time arrived. At brief intervals the hundred clocks of Rome sounded the hour of eleven. Teofilo counted the strokes one by one, and with straining ears folio wed" 1 the echoes until they died away in the distance. Then making bis way to She door he boldly seized the knob and pulled it towards him. The noise which it made in opening was slight, and could not easily have been beard by others. None the less it produced an extraordinary effect on the tortured nerves of Teofilo; it was as though some one had caught him in the act of committing a brutal crime. An icy chill ran through him from head to foot, and he retreated terrified before the shadow of his own body thrown in the streak of light admitted by the half-open door upon the tiled floor* After many stops and pauses he reached the street door. Once in the open air he seemed to be relieve iof a great weight. He began to run toward the middle of the city like one who is late for an appointment. Soon, however, he slackened his pace, for had he really decided to go to the police and reveal from beginning to end the terrible thing that had befallen him ? Alas ! no ; let us answer for him. In his room with that terrible sight before his eyes, he had choßen the most reasonable and natural course. But once away from it, new doubts, new fears, assailed him. What should he say to the magistrate 1 How could he justify the presence of that blood-stained body ? How explain tbe delay that had intervened before he denounced the murder ? What was he to answer to the questions of the police put in the belief that he was in some way guilty, and that he knew the whereabouts of the person who had committed the crime in his house ? They might hold him penned up in prison, to languish for months, for years, until the truth came out. Great heavens ! How horrible ! The poor* tormented wretch covered his face with his hand, as though to blot out the vision, and hastened down the first alley so as not to be seen by any one. In his state of mental misery, wearied, worn out, and feverish, he passed the whole night ranging the city. The white light of dawn, and the curious gaze of sweeperß and milkmen beginning their morning toil, drove him hurriedly to his home, which for the moment seemed a safe retreat. By chance the door waa closed. Teofilo staggered up the stairs and let himself into his little room. Quickly he rushed to the window and threw it open to let in the morning air. (To be Continued.)