"A Brave Man's Love."

Bruce Herald, Volume XLVII, Issue 23, 23 March 1911, Page 3

"A Brave Man's Love."

BY HAROLD 13LNDLOS S. Author of "The Story of Hilary Lcgli," Over the Bar/', j'ln ■Niger Land," "Ainslio s 1 Ju-Ju," Etc., lite.

SYNOPSIS. Of Chapters Already Pubfished

CHAPTER 1. introduces Vincent Maxwell, a traveller and explorer who, lmving a rich mine in South Africa, is thinking of settling down in the Old Land, lie is engaged to Helen Carson, daughter of a retired cotton spinner—a somewhat shallow girl with a thin veneer of poiisii and beauty. Maxwell is lisliitig m the quiet waters of the Fleet when he is accosted by au acquaintance—a gilded youth of the city—who, tells him of a fall in South African stocks. On reaching his aunt's home, . where lie is staying, Maxwell finds a telegram awaiting him from his partner "Mallin" : "Come at once, urgent need, reef lost and natives rising," and decides he must leave at once for Africa, where his all is at stake.

CHAPTER 11. - Maxwell tells his fiancee of the risk he runs of losing his fortune, and of his decision to go to South Africa, and they quarrel. At a picnic the same day Maxwell tells a story of African Ju-ju (magic), and shows a Ju-ju talisman which he had, got from a'lfausa he had befriended. On this talisman is a band of white, set among gold, which is said by natives to turn red when danger threatens.

CHAPTER 111, ~ Things me not as they should bo between lovers when Maxwell and Helen part, Nearly three months later Maxwell is riding wearily up a writer-scarred hillside on the wild Malabo I e frontier; he soliloquises 'T wonder it this is the pass. Another night in the veldt with nothing to eat would about finish me. What a fool 1 was to cross the hills by the old route.' He, however, arrives at Mallin s homestead, and finds only a lady at home ; she introduces herself as i'-vu Constdine, n daughter o? I'aul Considine, ot Durban, who is known to Maxwell. Later, Peter Mallin arrives, and with him Eva's brother Bert; 'I hey pass a pleasant evening, leaving business till the morrow, while far away in the northern wilds the Matabele eagei y await the moment when they shall sweep the white men into the sea.

CHAPTER IV. What Happened in ihe Kloof.

Two days later Vincent Maxwell followed the course of a winding ravine, l-iilo in baud, for he was a sportsman born. The spare grass and scrubby thorn glittered with dew, and the great black hills stood out sharply against the cloudless azure. The freshness o the morning stirred his blood and helped to lighten the gloom which had weighed upon his spirits the last two days.

As Mallin had said, things were go-1 in* very badly with them. It seemed only too probable that before long the Matabele would come down, and, for a time at least, they must leave the homestead. What would happen to the stock and buildings he scarcely cared to think. Meanwhile they worked desperately at the shaft, which it was hoped would locate the lead again and enable them to make sure of its value before the trouble began. Onco of twice he wondered whether lie should insist upon Mrs Mallin and Eva being sent down while the way was open, and finally decided it was no business of his. So, having a brief spell of leisure, lie determined to enjoy it as only a sportsman can, and, with his quick eyes: sweeping the hill slopes in search of game, pushed on up the ravine. Rounding a bend his glance fell upon something bla'jk, partly hidden behind a thorn bush, which seemed suspiciously out of place, and, his hunter's instinct aroused, he slipped behind a boulder and waited. By-aiid-bv the mj'sterious object unfolded itself, rose upright, and Maxwell saw that it was a man — evidently a Matabele warrior, for the sun glinted upon a bright spear-head. Puzzling himself as to what could have brought a single foeman so far into the white man's country, Vincent lay very still, after making sure that there was.a cartridge in either barrel of his Express rifle. Then the Matabele approached slowly, slipping from boulder to boulder and bush to bush; and the sportsman muttered: "Must be stalking something. What can the beggar be after?" Next, carefully scanning every yard of the boulder-strewn ravine, his eye caught the glimpse of a white dress, hithortu unnoticed, against a background of rock. His heart leaped at the sight, and the first impulse was to shoutaloud and run madly-forward. But Vincent had not dwelt among savage people and hunted big game for nothing, and he knew that, should murder be the object, long before he could reach the spot the bright spear of the stealthy foe would bo buried in the victim. Therefore, snapping up the flap of the rear-sight to two hundred yards, he wriggled his left elbow deep into the sand and waited breathlessly with the stumpy Express barrel alone projecting beyond the boulder.

The Matabele was now hidden behind a rock, and, in any case, it did not seem quite the thing to shed blood on suspicion only. Then a stifled scream came down the wind, and he saw Eva Considine spring to her feet and lean against the stone as the brawny, naked warrior strode out from among the boulders. The Matabele said something hoarsely in an unknown tongue, and next moment the girl fled like a deer down the gorge. After her came the savage warrior, swinging easily along, and evidently enjoying the situation; while Maxwell ground his teeth, for the rustling white dress was clear in a lino with his sights, and in front of the wild, black figure. Then the girl swerved to avoid a rock, and the Matabele ranged up almost beside her, liis arm thrown back and the bright steel flashing above the victim's head. Praying that hand and eye might not fail him now, Vincent jammed his skwk upqii tto Ms* white th»

fingers of his left hand clenched themselves well forward round the barrel. Mechanically he took the fine sight that suits the flat trajectory of the Express, and with only a thin wedge of the bead resting on the centre of the broad, black breast, ho held his breath and squeezed the trigger. The rifle muzzle jerked sharply upwards, a puff of acrid smoke filled the marksman's eyes, and the ringiug report fell unheeded upon his ears. Then there was a soft thud; the savage turned his head, as though in stupid amazement, and lurching forward, collapsed limply upon the ground. Snapping out the empty shell, Maxwoll hurried up the ravino, and a few moments later the shuddering girl clung tightly to his arm, murmuring breathless thanks.

"No danger now. Pull yourself together, Miss Considine; there may be more behind," said Maxwell, and his voice was very soft, while, strange to say, the /touch of the trembling lingers sent a thrill through every nerve. "There now," ho added; "that's better. Lean on me, and don't look."

Then ho bent forward so that the girl might not see what lay beside her —a huddled heap of naked humanity, prone upon the dusty stones, with a thin, crimson stab* slowly oozing from it into the thirsty earth, while high overhead tho vultures were gathering out of the far azure heavens and calling one another to the feast. Beforo they reached the homestead Eva was herself again, and a look of heartfelt gratitude shone in her eyes as she thanked Maxwell, who answered lightly. Being by no means vain, he failed to read signs of suppressed admiration and interest in the lustrous orbs.

At noon a message came from one of the young men that no trace could Ik found of the dead Matabole, and that the shaft was blocked by stone impervious to their drills. So Vincent, weary of the hopeless task, passed the afternoon lounging on the verandah by Eva's side.

"May I ask, Mr Maxwell," she said, "what' brought you"—and there was an emphasis on the "you"—"back into this savage country?" And \invent smiled as lie answered: "A very good reason —to make money, or save what I had. I am not avaricious myself, you know; but I am engaged to he married, and the lady will naturally expect to live as she has been accustomed to." ••All!" was the quiet reply, followed by a pause. Then Eva continued: "But you put a slight upon the nature of our sex. Would not a woman who loved you prefer to face poverty, if need be, at your side rather than send vou forth alone on a perilous task? In his inmost heart Maxwell had doubts as to whether Helen Carson would. Therefore- he waived the point. "In any case, I would prefer that she did not. No woman shall suffer for my sake," ho said. So the time passed rapidly and pleasantly, and when at last Vincent strolled away Eva Considine's eyes followed the tall,' athletic figure until it was lost in the shadow of the hills. Then she took up her sewing again, and there was a look in the clear eyes which could not be accounted for even by tangled stitches. . "When the old miner returned his tace waited his master's command.

was dark. , "There's trouble on hand at last, he said. "Must have been more of the Matabele lurking about, or how did the body go ? However, these odd spies always wander through the country for days'before a blow is struck. Eva and the missus must go down on Monday, and we'll post double sentries to-night. Where's that Griqua?" A little wizened man, with only a narrow waist-cloth upon his naked skin, shambled up presently, and, glancing sideways out of the corner of his eyes, "Go up into the Berg, beyond the flat-topped mountain; find out where the Matabele are, and come again,' said Mallin, and the Griqua answered: "There is trouble in the air now. Twice I heard the evil spirits whispering across the veldt when the stars were dim. The vultures smell blood " "What child's talk is this?" broke in Mallin. "Away you go!" for the girl shuddered at the wild words; and with a comprehensive grin the little Griqua wriggled away across the darkening veldt and vanished into the night. On the evening of the tmrd day the party were seated -n the veran ah watching the stars slov'v tvii kle into brightness one by one ""ar awav in • ''e transparent ether. Eva Considine sat within the darkened room and the strains of drea ay music floated out through the open casements. Then it changed to the opening chords of a hymn, and Maxwell flung his cigar away and listened, absorbed, as the words, "Lead, Kindly Light," stole out of the darkness. "Sunday evening reminds ono of the old country," said Bert Considine softly. "The green lanes of England, all honeysuckle and roses, or the puiple hills'of the North, eh? The scent of hay in the air, and a rosy-cheeked girl on your arm." But Maxwell moved impatiently; the picture jarred strangely upon him. So they listened in silence until the stanza —

"O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone"—

fell upon their ears. As before, tlie fancy of the singer chimed strangely with Maxwell's own. What had his life been hitherto but a series of wanderings across the face of the earth? —and a longing for peace and rest stirred within him. This was followed by a deeper feeling: that if, after all, man's lot was to grope blindly through darkness ajid suffering towards light and rest, would .it not be a blessed thing to have a loyal heart to brave it out beside him, sympathising with, his failures and rejoicing in his success? For a moment his fancy dwelt upon the calm, sweet face of Eva and the look of patience and hope in her -fathomless eyes. This was a woman, he knew; whom a man might trust with his life and honor, "and walk the straighter for her counsel and example; but his fate was sealed, and he crushed down the thought. i m Yqu mq v«ry glwa to-night,"

Bert Considine; but before Maxwell could auswer the prelude of the evening hymn began. Deep voices joined in as the sun-browned men rose to their feet, and even the thin treble of poor, sickly Mrs Mallin helped to swell the sou nil. Vincent felt a strange stirring of his heart as the old familiar lines

"May no ill dreams disturb my rest, Nor powers of darkness*me molest'' went up in quaint unison. Then there was a soft patter of naked feet on the withered grass outside, and the old Griqua flitted into the verandah like a ghost. "The Matabele come, Baas," he gasped. "Many of the young impi, like wolves thirsting for blood. But the sun will be high to-morrow before they are here, for they know not tho paths." Mallin brought his fist down upon the balustrade with a crash that made the stout timber quiver, then, choking down an imprecation, shouted hoarsely: "There is no time to lose. Inspan all the oxen for the big waggons. Send two Cape boys to warn Bertram's people; they can join us beyond the gorge." Then succeeded a scene of wild bustle. Black Cape boys and Mashona fricndlies ran here and there among tho lowing oxen, and presently two big waggons lumbered past the front of the house. Moxwell, who had been busy packing rifles and ammunition and hardly-won alluvial gold, assisted Eva and Mrs Mallin to their places.

"We will be far away before they arrive, and tliey dare not follow us for fear of the Chartered forces," he said; and the girl's face was very calm as she answered: "I am Paul Considine's daughter, and not afraid." Presently there was a loud cracking of whips and the waggon-wheels grated over the stones as they lurched down the sides of the ravine, five white men and a score of black retainers riding or trotting beside, the barrels of their curiously-assorted guns glinting in the starlight. The shallow ford was safely crossed, and as they toiled up the steep ascent beyond Maxwell turned in his saddle and gazed down into the shadowy plain. That was the last lie was ever to see to Mallin's Drift or the Good Hopo Mine. Strange to say, this man who a few hours before had boen longing for peace and rest felt every nerve tingling and the blood pulsing exultantly in his veins at the thought of fighting again. Perhaps it was the old Border blood and the instincts of forgotten generations awakening to life again—who knows?

On the second afternoon the little party, which had, however, been swelled by three other white men —the Bertram brothers —and their Mashona servants t toiled slowly down a bare slope towards the glistening streak of a river. It was fiercely hot, and clouds of white dust rose up before the feet of the sickly beasts which dragged themselves feebly along, enfeebled by that scourge of' Southern Africa, the rinderpest. The old Griqua, who was looked upon with suspicion by both the Mashona and Cape boys, being of an alien race from beyond the mountains, urged them to press forward with all speed. By some unknown means —instinct, most probably, for there was no visible sign of the foe in all the sundanger and was for ever goading the danegr and was for ever goading the crawling oxen. "Rank cruelty to animals, but, I suppose there's no help for it. Thank goodness, we should meet some of the C.S.A. men to-morrow, or at least the following day," said Maxwell, mopping the dust grime and perspiration from his forehead. Then he glanced curiously at the Ju-Ju, which still hung at his watch-chain. The white band was mottled and streaked with red! Presently one of the Mashonas in the rear shouted, and, reining in their horses, the white men felt their pulses quicken, for a thin black line was wending down a bare hillside far away behind them.

"A detachment of the young impi at last," said Mallin, shortly. "We can't escape by speed. All we can do is to turn round and show our teeth. There's good shelter among the rocks across the river. Push 011! Hurry those waggons across there!" The waggons lurched and swayed, in imminent peril of capsizing, as they jolted axle-deep through the river. The horsemen, followed by the black retainers, crossed and with feverish haste the three big vehicles were drawn up the bank and set in a semicircle with a small clear space between them and the rock. The black herdsmen drove the slow oxen and sickly horses away up a winding kloof where it was hoped they might escape the notice of the Matabele,' while the white ' men rolled boulders and piled up cases and sand outside the waggon-wheels and between their ends. Dripping with perspiration, they wrought with desperate energy in the burning heat of the afternoon, and at last a fairly defensible redoubt was made. Then came half an hour of sickening suspense, when the men moved restlessly about with dry lips or fidgetted aimlessly with rifle and cartridgebelt; and all the time a rolling cloud of dust drew nearer and nearer across the scorching veldt. "There's only one thing left to do, an' that's to fight to the last gasp," said old Peter Mallin. "We can't escape them, and those savage devils will show no mercy. At the worst, it's better to die fighting than to be butchered in cold blood —and there's the women, too." Then his voice grew softer and he added: "Annie, see that you and Eva keep close behind them boulders. Keep up your hearts; we may beat them off yet. Let each man do his best this day." (To be continued.)