“ IRON.”

Dunstan Times, Issue 2488, 5 July 1909, Page 2

“ IRON.”

(By Owen Oliver.)

1 heard at sunrise that a “white chief” was lying sick in the bush beyond the hill. About noon I found a blanket tent in the shadow of a tree. Five native carriers were squatting outside. The fever was “only playing with him,” they said, and they wouldn’t have to dig a “white man’s hole” this time. I bent and went through the narrow opening and nodded to a long, thin fellow of thirty-odd lying on a bed of dry grass. He took up'his revolver 1 entered, but put it down ' after a glance at me. Those who carry their lives in their hands judge men quickly. “Been sick long?” I asked. “About ten days,” he answered. “And those thievish beggars haven b bolted with your trace!” He shrugged his snoulders, and laugned. “Helps you to know me, eh?’ he suggested; and I nodded. They must have a pretty wholesome fear of him, 1 knew: but they wouldn’t have stopped for fear alone. 1 took his temperature and felt his pulse and gave him some tabloids of quinine. ‘ ~ _ . ~ “You’ll be up in a day or two, 1 told him. “I’ll see you through.” He stared at me, and 1 stared at him. Though unkempt and stubbly with a fortnight's beard, he did not look coarse; but I suspected that heat and illness had refined him, and would not judge him too favorably yet. “1 wonder why you docs, won t let a poor thing die,” he ramarked. “You make a lot of mistakes,” 1 observed, when 1 had sat on a box. “I’m not a doctor; and it’s nature that won t let you die; and you don’t want to; and you’re not a nuisance, so don t Hatter yourself!” He laughed a hoarse laugh. “I think 1 like you,” he stated. “Yes, I’m only a piebald sort of nuisance. 1' e got a lot of little devilments up against me; but I’ve something on the other side. 1 don’t know how you’d figure out the balance. Want to try?” , “I’ll take the little devilments for granted,” I proposed. “1 know all about them.” , , “1 bet you do!” he laughed again. “You’re that sort. Much the same as me under your gentleman s skin. It seems funny to tell you, when 1 haven’t known you for live minutes; but I’ve been turning it over in my mind all the while I ve been sweating here; and I’ve got to talk about it, if 1 talk at all. Its a story that sounds like lyin; but I m not a storyteller, eh?” “If fifty-five years m a lying world make a man a judge,” I pronounced, “you rc not a storyteller. (Jo on.” . He told me this story At least this is part of the story. If you discover the bottomless pit, you needn’t publish the latitude to swarm there and Burn. 1 ve taken something out of his mouth, but I’ve put nothing in. You may have heard of Davies’ Expedition to the country of the Beggar Men. 1 went with it, in charge of the scouts and natives. We wanted to find the Devil’s Mountain and the Devil s Cave where he keeps what you might expect him to keep; and that’s gold. They’ll tell you that there isn’t such a place, but there is; and we got there —within a few mjles and pitched our. camp for the night. I’d been playing poker in the mess tent, and was crossing over to my own to tura in, when a man came buzzing through the dark, running as if he were spent, and caught me by the arm. It was Harding, the second in command; and the first so far as concerned me and my men. lor Davies was a scientific young chap and too ful- of learning to leave room for horse sense—though, mind you, we liked him. . , “Brown,” Harding said with a jerk— Brown stood for me and stands for me; but it isn’t my name— want to speak to you: about Miss Davie*.’ , . , I drew a long breath. I didn t think anyone but myself knew how I felt about her; and I was sure enough that she didn’t; but jealousy gives a man eyes. “Some things aren’t a matter of leader and 1 follower,” I warned him. "It conies to —two revolvers and two men.” “I’ve been scouting,” be went on, as it 1 hadn’t spoken. “The Devil Men are on us. They’re closing round the camp in thousands. They’ve got us, Brown. *-uid then !” He made a sound as it ' he felt sick. “And then,” I said fiercely, ‘u you haven’t the pluck to put a revolver to her pretty, f hair, I nave —if that s what you mean.’ He just glanced at me; and 1 saw that I’d done .him wrong. ‘ „ “There’s no escape for us as a liody, he told me; “but onp —or two might get through, as I’ve just done. 1 want you to take her and do the best you can. “Why don’t you take her?” I asked. “I can’t leave the men.” “I’ll put it to them,” I offered. 'lt she likes you, and you like her, I guess they’d l rather have it that way; and 1 sha’n’t fight them much worse than you, 1 .suppose.” . ' “She doesn’t like me —in that way, he denied. “So that doesn’t come in; and you’re twice the scout that I am, and you know the country better. I want her tc have the best chance she can. ’ “That’s right,” I agreed ; “but Bussell is nearly as good a scout, and knows more of the country.” He shook his head. . “She’s safer with you,” be said. iou see you love her.” “Y T es,” I owned, “I do; but I shan t forget that she’s not for such as I. If I get her through I leave her. Shake hands,” We shook hands. Then we went tc Davies. He was sitting in his tent, reading a book about gold-mining! That wae his style. All the same he took the news like a man. “If anyone can save her, you can,” he told me; “and, if the worst comes to the worst, you’ll save her from them.” “Yes,” I said. He fetched; her from her tent, while 1 filled two water-bottles and a hag and got mv rifle. She made a fuss about going, and declared she’d “rather die with the rest of us.” She didn't just say wit! them, and leave me out. She always re membered that common chaps have then feelings. “It will make it a lot easier for us, . Ethel,” her brother explained, “to liojk that you’ve got away. Such a lot easier old girl! I’m going to hope it, too, Brown will save you, if anyone can. “And if you can’t” —she turned to me—•Then . , “Y r es,” I promised; and I took her ham 1 and raised it to my lips. “(Jod hell me, , , , She hung round her brother s neck Then she held up her face to Harding like a sister. Then we went through i strip of long grass that led to a gullj that ran into a clump of trees. I reckon ed that the savages were in too peat force to trouble much about cover that wqjik hold a few. and wouldn’t come there. I crawled first with my knife betweer my teeth, and told her to follow a goodisl way behind, unless I gave a hiss like 2 snake, and then she was to come quickly I found two savages in the grass, one a 1 a time. They didn’t hear me soon enough They are a bit deaf, I think. I toilet them out of the way and hoped shi hadn’t seen. There was no noise. There weren’t any in the gully luckily but I could hear them all around on th< plain. When we reached the clump w coud see where they were, dark as it was It looked as if the ground were swaying She trembled and I held her hand t< steady her a bit. I felt as if she wer d child to me, though 6b© was three an

twenty. I wonder if you can understand , how a chap like me feels about a —a little lady-woman. We had a look at the camp from there. We could see the fires, and men moving across them. There were two that she thought were her brother and Harding. Well, if they were, that's the last we ever saw of them. She sobbed that it was no use trying to save her; and she didn’t want to be saved without them. “We’ve got to try,’] I told her. “I owe it to them, and you owe it to me. If we’re caught I’ve got to—to do whats to me!’’ ‘-‘Dear friend!’’ she cried; and touched my .arm; and we went on, pushing through the prickly bushes, till we tame to the stream that runs across the wood. There were stepping-stones to cross by, but I thought that we might be seen, and had better wait till the attack on the camp began. . “We are going the wrong way, arnet we ” she suggested. She knew the lie of the country, and used to flag out the route with me on the map every morning. I can see her now, with the pins in°her mouth, and her mouth all puckered up, because I tried to make her laugh and drop them. “¥cs,”l agreed. 'We shall have to turn back —some day. Not yet. T hey 11 know tlxat there was a _ woman in the camp; and when they don't see her they 11 hunt round. We must find somewhere to hide for a few days; perhaps a week." ••But where?” she wanted to know. ‘There’s only one safe place,” 1 declared; ‘‘the..Devil’s Cave; right in the midst of them! • They won’t look for us there. I’ve overheard a good bit about it from the blacks, knowing their language. It’s well guarded, they say ; but 1 expert most of the guards are drawn off for the attack on'the camp. Were more likely to get in to-night than to got out afterwards! AnyhowI never finished. For we heard yells and shouts and rifle shots. The attack on the camp Had begun. .She was near fainting, so I picked her up and carried her across the stream. Then I set her down and told her to run. 'there was a clear track, and I guessed that it led to the big village at the foot of the moun tain. I guessed right. When we reached the edge ol the wood we saw the biggest native village 1 ve ever set eyes on. There must have been thousands of mud-huts. The moon had come out, and we could see enormous crowds of women and children collected far away on the right to watch their precious army. “The village will be deserted, 1 told her. “We’ll go right through .it, and chance our luck. Jbores one thing. If we do get through, they 11 ne\ei gutss that we came this way.” Wo saw no one but a few mumbling old cronts, and we managed to dodge them round the huts. 1 went into a big hut—-a chief’s, 1 supiwec—and took a bag of meal and a gourd of water, fearing that we might run short. The mountain rose up steep behind the village. There was a wide path, and we followed it. The moon had gone m and it was very dark. When it came out 1 saw a group of men a hundred yards ahead. They had hideous masks and wooden horns on their heads, and they were painted all sorts of colors, and some of them wore the tails of animals. 1 think she took them for devils, for she opened her mouth to cry out. I put,my hand over it and dragged her to the side. They were dancing one of their ‘religions dances. r ihe road was thick with dust, and they were jumping about without a word, so 1 hadn’t heard them and couldn’t hear them ; but they danced down nearer mid nearer to us, till I could bear their feet going flip-flap, and their grunts and hard breathing. Wc were pretty well covered by the side ol the road, which went through the hill like a cutting, bo they didn’t see us; and presently they flip-flapped back. Then the moon went in again, and 1 climbed up the steep side of the road, pulling her after me. .She was a poor hand at climbing, and when we came to a steeper part 1 carried her on my back. I got so hot and fagged that 1 thought I should drop; and at last we laid down in a a gap, and waited for the moon to shine again. We found ourselves just above the Devil Men ; and the rock was too sheer to go farther along it. So I decided that we’d wait till we got our strength again, and it was dark, and then we’d try to get down into the path beyond, them. We°startcd on it, but the moon came back sooner than I expected. Luckily 1 saw it coming, and we crouched behind a big boulder. We weren’t thirty yards from them, and the dust that they raised came floating up and made it hard to keep from coughing. Everything round stood out clear in the moonlight, and we could see each other as plainly as if it were day. She looked as if she had grown ten yeans older in some ways; and in others she looked as if she had gone back to a child. She held to me like one ; and she burled her face against me like one when a noise rose up in the si lence. It started a long way off, in the direction of the camp ; a curious singing cry. Others took it up, nearer and nearer. It was to tell that they had taken the camp, I knew, it wasn’t language, but from what I’d learned of the cries of such tribes 1 guessed that they hadn’t taken any live sacrifices, and would have to make sacrifices of some of themselves to their precious Devil-god. 'J hat was how 1 accounted for the wail in the cry. One gets an instinct in these things, as I dare say you know. Presently the group just beneath us took it up in their turn; and then others took it up in the path ahead ; the way that we wanted to go, and hoped would be free from them. I looked at Ethel 1 called her Miss Davies, you’ll understand; but “Ethel” is how 1 thifikof her—and she looked at me. We were still looking when another cloud swept over the moon. “We can’t stay here,” I said. “We will go down into the path and take our chance. They'll howl like mad now I know their ways—and won’t take much notice of anything.” In a minute they began dancing twice as fast as before, till the dust covered them like a fog, and yelled at the top of their voices. W’e climbed down into the patch just beyond them, and went on, till the cutting opened out into a wide space ahead. There we saw five or six groups of dancing Devil Men. 'I he bill was climable on our left ; the opposite side to the one we had tried before. We climbed it, cutting ourselves with the jagged rock. I helped her all I could ; but it made me feel ill to see her hands. At last we got on an easier slope. It was very rough, and she was exhausted and kept stumbling. I generally caught her; but once we both fell and bruised ourselves a good bit. We wandered round and round, looking for a hidingplace, till she was near fainting and hung heavily on my arm. There were signs of dawn before we came to any shelter; and then it was only a sandy hollow, like a cup, in the top of the hill. “We must stay here,” I told her. “They can’t see us unless they come right to the top. I don’t know any reason why they should. I’ll watch while you sleep.” 1 sat down on the sand with a lump of rock at my back. She laid down beside me, and used my knee for a pil‘You are so very good and kind, ’ she said, looking up at me for a moment, Then she fell asleep. I sat blinking my heavy eyes, anc watched the sunlight touch the edges o; the hills and the edges of the clouds, and the clouds grow whiter and whiter anc dwindle and dwindle, till there was no thing but blazing blue sky ; and at lasi the sun cam© over the top of the hollow

ind beat down into the Bandy cup. You f kvill know what the heat was! And the a ileepiness that I couldn’t give way to! , 1 I let her sleep on, covering her head v ivith my handkerchief as well as her hat, t md moving my fingers and shifting my t rifle from side to side to keep himself a iwake, and looking every minute at my r ivatch. It was a quarter to ten when she f roused. 1 “Oh!” she said. “How tired you are! i How tired you are! You must go to sleep. I will watch.’ ’ ( “Yes,” she said; and I rolled over on ’ the sand and went to sleep there and i then. I felt her lift my head ami put < something unoer it for a pillow; but I < was'too far gone to thank her. The heat woke me after two or three i hours. I never felt heat like it; and she * looked nearly dead. She touched me and i whispered as soon as I opened my eyes. •1 have heard them pass twice,” she said, “on the other side of the hill.” “And you didn’t wake me!” I cried. “Brave little comrade ! ’ That was what I used to call her—little comrade. “1 held your rifie ready for, you, if they looked over,” she told me. "1 mean to lie brave; but 1 can’t—the sun—l can t! She swayed a little. 1 gave her some water and drunk some myself, it tasted hot. , “Let us have a look around, 1 prol>°We climbed the side of the hollow and went all around the top, peeping over the edge. The first side looked to the great plain where 1 hoped to escape. Knots of savages were searching it as far as we could see; and no doubt farther. ‘ ror us,” I told her. “You see why we must wait!” . - n The second side was above the village, and farther on we saw the wood that we had passed through, and farther still a black, burned space where our camp -had been. They were wailing m the village, and they had put up the “death poles, with the dead mens weapons on them, outside many huts. Our chaps had sold their lives dearly, as.we might expect. The third side faced the hills on the right of the wide path. It was no use thinking of going there again. VVe couldn’t climb it, and we should only have to come back. There was a small track some way up the hill that we were on. The savages whom she had heard must have passed there. It wound round to the fourth side. We went and looked out that way. , It faced the Devils Mountain. the wide patch and the little track both led there, over a smaller hill, in which wc lost them, the track running over, and the path going through a cutting. 1 had no doubt that the Devil’s Cave lay there. On our left a series of lolls went on to the side oi the mountain. These hills were broken and covered with many boulders and a lew coarse shrubs. On the left they ran down toward the great plain, for we had come back near the place where we first peeped over. "Well, ’ 1 pronounced, “we II have to slav hero to-day, heat or no heat. In the night we’ll' try to find a sheltered place among those rocks —perhaps a cave. Wo shall be- handy to the plain, when its time to make a bolt.” "Why not to-night?’ she entreated. “ThcVll search the plain for days," • told her. “They’re like that. ■ They’ll guess we’d go there. "Ves,” she agreed; “they’ll know tinway we left the camp; and they II thin., we went down by the stream. She had a bushwoman’s instinct, and 1 often thought she’d have made a good scout if she’d been a man. - s he was tindaughter of Davies, the explorer. "Hard Davies." they call him; but I reckon he was never hard to her. She had a mighiv belief in him; and so had her brother. They used to say that I reminded them of him. Iron and iron, eh? "They’ll know the way wo left the camp, you think? I looked at In-i. “They’ll find those two men,’’ she said quietlv. -Ah'.” 1 said; “you saw, then? Mie nodded. "And didn.’t fuss about it. Didn’t want to worry me, eh?” "I'm worry and trouble enough to you, she said. "No,” L contradicted. "Not trouble, little comrade.” "Ves,” she said, “call melt lt makes mo try to be brave, like you ! Wo stopped in the hollow all day, sleeping for short snatches in turn. We drank all our water. At the finish 1 was nearly dead, and she was in a sort of stupor. She had fainted four times. Once I thought that she had gone; and I thought it would have been better for her if she had. When the sun went down site revived a bit, and as soon as it was quite dark we sot out along the hills to our left, leading to the side of Die Devil’s Mountain, and running above the plain. We found no cover and went on and on, till I heard a trickling of water. VVe found a rocky channel running up to the mountain, and a little water dribbling down. We managed to fill our bottles and drank and ate some biscuits. Then we went up the channel, thinking that we might light upon a hiding-place out of the sun. i*resent ly it took a turn right into the side of the mountain. It was high enough to walk in, if you stooped here and there. Wo felt our way in the dark, but 1 struck a match now and then. We had stumbled on for a couple of hours when 1 saw a glimmer of reddish light ahead, it grew brighter and redder, and at last we found a sort of chamber on our right, the floor rising from the channel. This opened into a larger chamber. The entrance from the one to the other was half tilled by a great image, back toward us. In the big inner chamber four old Devil Medicine Men were looking after a huge open fire, and relays of you Mg Devil Women (the women do all their work) kept on bringing up brushwood to put on it. There were — No, I won’t talk about the paraphernalia for the sacrifices. We saw them used afterward. What she must have suffered in her mind! 1 remember the look in her eves —eyes like a child’s. We come from savages like them, % young Davies always said. The Lord have mercy on us all! There was gold all over the place; gold in great lumps on the floor; gold in columns; gold blazing in the root; gold glittering m tlie rooky walls; and tlie uovil that guarded it was made of gold, lie was thirty feet high as he squatted. IDs back covered us. We laid down in his shadow and slept. We were too tired to go down the channel again, and it was too wet to rest there. They’d only to walk around behind the Golden Devil and take us; but I felt sure they’d never look for us there ; and they never did. We stayed there the next day, living on our biscuits and going to the channel for water; seeing the guardians of the fire change every few hours, and the women with the fuel always coming and going. They walked up to the golden idol and kissed his feet —and then they went t live yards away! I generally held her hand. That’s what 1 dream of—holding her hand. Then the night came —and the sacrifices! I held her up and we staggered away to take refuge in the channel. It had been raining hi the world outside, unknown to us, and the channel was tilled with a torrent. It was death to venture in. We stayed close beside it, turning our backs on the sacrifices so that we shouldn’t see, but we heard. Stuffed our fingers in our ears and still heard. If 1 hadn’t had her to think of I’d have slvot a few of those murderous devils and used the last shot on myself. Well, she was in a faint most of tho time, thank Heaven! - Four days we stayed there, and saw sacrifices on three night. The rainy season had started before its_ time, and I doubted if we could get out for weeks. We finished our biscuits on the second , day; and then we starved. She grew so weak that she could barely stand, and so

lightened that I used to hold her in my irm like a child. When she fainted and carried her to the water there was no weight in her, though I was feeble enough x) feel weight double. She was very parent —patient and grateful and sweet, u „i_ Well, look here ! If I could renember anything that I could have done :or her and didn’t, I’d just put my revolver to ray head and go to answer for my little devilments. One day the channel emptied suddenly, except for a trickle at the bottom. We went down the way that we had come, but more slowly. At last we found the men air again and drew deep breaths like drinking. It was daylight, but the sun was raising a thick white mist after the rain, so there wasn't much fear of them seeing us; and they’re afraid to go out in it. We stood and looked at each other holding both hands. She had grown very thin and pale, and her hands they wore never very large—seemed so weak and small. I bent and kissed them lor the second time in my life. “We have come out together, little comrade,” I said, “and we will never speak of it again.” We never did. “God bless you,” she answered, “true, true friend”’ ‘ We went down the hillside, covered by the mist. A great carrion bird came flapping near us. 1 shot it, and cut it in two with my knife, and we ate it like savages, turning' our backs to each other for shame. She would not look at me when we walked on, and sobbed fearlessly. “What must you think of me?” she cried. “Don’t!” 1 answered quickly. "Don’t! I shall feel honored all my life to have served you.” “And 1,” she said steadily, “shall feel honored, too.” ' She looked at mo and smiled for the first time since we had left the'camp; and that was when my light with my own private devil began. For I knew that, ii I were blackguard enough, 1 could make this pretty dainty lady fancy herself in love with me—a chap like me! Therei no devil like your own; and all the red of the way he was whispering in my ear, ' T .ere’s nothing to frighten her iw.w be d sav. “Whv does she loan on yom arm? Bhe likes to!” “Notice how sin talks. ‘When we are at the coast. ‘When we are in England.’» ‘ When w« tee Father’ ’When I do things for you. She’s evidently made up her mind thai vou’ll always be together. Look how sin smiles when you praise her. Just 100. at her! Isn't she pretty and sweet am good? and don't you want her?’ Am again, “Just fancy making love to he when you reach the coast! He neve suggested that I should do it before, suppose even the devil had his limitations and lie knew that he couldn t make m do it while she was dependent on me Anyhow, 1 never did. Well, I won t *sa; that I hadn’t kissed her hair once « twice when she fainted; but that wa the worst 1 did. , We tramped on clay after clay. 1 »no a few birds and found a few eggs onc berries; and once we caught two h-she with our hands in a stream. Sometime, the sun scorched us red, and sometime, it rained for hours and drenched n through. Sometimes we saw savages am crouched in bushes and holes (and one up to our nocks in a while the. passed. Our clothes bung in rags, am we had to tie the soles on our boots will string. We were mostly hungry and al wavs tired and our cheek-bones seeimn sticking through the skin; hut we alway smiled at each other, and sometimes w laughed ; and womanlike she loosened he little tongue and she loved to tell m things out of her hook-learning. "Because 1 like you to think that know something,’ she would say, thong it’s only baby learning to the things tha von can do; and somehow I feel rathe like i,i baby to you.” _ “Ah,” T would answer, “you II thin, differentlv when we get hack to cjvilisa lion, and have that great dinner. W used to plan out a wonderful dinner who wc were hungrier than usual. she used to, tell me. “you cion’ believe that I It would hurt me dread fully if you did.” There ’ was no need for the beggar t whisper' when site looked at me as sh always did then. 1 could impose on he gratitude, if I chose. '1 hat was plai enough ; and natural enough on her part and natural on mine that 1 should remem her what 1 promised to Harding. 1 dent know that I’d have stood for that cithei but it was so plain that she was righ above me. A man couldn’t l>e with he clay after day and not know that. YV hj 1 took to praying about it at night whe she slept; and I’m not a man to pray “Don’t let her come down over to th level of a chap like me,” 1 used to pr.i over and over again ; and 1 think it helpe me. For 1 got my plan fixed in my min the day before the end. You’ll call i the end of the journey. U call it the or of my life. And now you see what meant when 1 said you might as well le a jxior beggar die. We came to the end suddenly at lasl We struck a little settlement—four lo cabins. They sent us down to the coa* in a cart, and a horseman riding o ahead. The people there met ns with hand and made a great fuss. She tab-"' as fast as her tongue would go —am could go—telling them about me. It ..a wonderful what she thought she cl got t my credit; little things that 1 licln dream she’d have noticed, and cs!y why any fellow must have clone! They took her in at a big house, an tho fellows carried me off to a bote Before 1 went I had a word alone wit her. She was smiling and saucy, like sh used to be when the expedition set out. “I am too excited to say what I thin now,” she told me; “what I shall alway think. Come to me this evening—and as your reward.” Her eye" sparkled. Cl she knew what I wanted right “I haven’t served you for revvaro,” said —1 was a bit husky. “1 —it is Iwho owe to you. You’ve made me a bei ter man, little comrade —little comrade!’ “Then,” she said,, “you must think wha reward you will give me. I—” she droj ped her eyes —‘T shall be glad to see yo this evening.” 1 kissed her hands for the third time i our lives. Then I went. A coasting schooner was leaving at dnsii 1 went in her, landed on the wild coat thirty miles along, and struck inlandalone. This cursed fever is shaking im Got any more quinine? Wc were silent for live minutes altc he'd finished his story. I spoke first "And the girl?” I asked. "I sent her a line,” he said slowly “Just u line. I said I loved her rigii enough, but I wasn’t fit for an wouldn’t drag her down; and she d hj glad' of it in a few weeks’ time, 'i hat all.” We were silent again; and again I spok first. “Brown,” I said, ‘T think that gn would do pretty well to marry you.” He laughed bitterly. “How we can talk about other people! he said. "Suppose that you were he father, and ’ I leaned forward and put my hand oi his arm. ‘‘l am,” I said. “She sent me to line you. Iron and iron. Eh, old man ?

Self-Government does not come to mei by nature. It must be learned. Fa edit; in it has t< be acquired. The soa as a calling is certainly no what it once was by a very long way The class of men who did very wel forty years ago would make a poo show now. It was common enough hj days gon by for owners to look for i suitable man, and then build a shi] for him; but it’s the other way abou now