THE LIBERATIONIST.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLV, Issue 13796, 8 July 1908, Page 11

THE LIBERATIONIST.

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m. ■ •■ » -••'■•■■-■V;.--.-i * BY. HAROLD BINDLOSS. '-':. , [COPYRIGHT.! ". ' .CHAPTER XXIV. k . BENICIA. MAXES A BARGAIN. Except for the two unsightly objects that lay in the soft " moonlight, there was rib ■ sign of Herrero's boys when Ormsgill walk- -» sd up the stairway with a rifle in his hand. A. little smoke curled from the breech which . lie opened before he shook hands with Nares. Iff" 'It's fortunate I knew where you were, - and came round to pick you up," lie «aid, and turned to the head cl the station, who leaned upon the 'balustrade,; apparently shaken and bewildered by what had hap-

hs-\- . pened. --•'.-.- ' ;./.'-' ■ ■--./'■ •' I came up behind Herrero most of,the way, Mid..when there were signs that we were siting closer I sent one of my boys §£'■■ on to creep in \!pou his camp two or three days ago. > From what he told me when he came back 1 fancied there was mischief on foot, and I pushed on as fast as possible. ; Considering everything,' it seems just as well I did." " # Th*- other man- appeared unwilling to l"t his ewe wander beyond the -verandah,'. '-'. which was in one way comprehensible. There- was shrinking in 'his face,' and his voice was strained and hoarse. "It was so suddenit has left me a trifle dazed," he said. "I am almost afraid the ■ trouble is not over yet." ■.-/./..-■■ Ormsgill smiled reassuringly. "I scarcely thinkhave any cause to worry. f- There is no doubt that Herrero inspired his boys, and attempts of this kind, as no doubt ybu are aware, have been made on X mission stations before, but it's certain he would disclaim all knowledge of what-they meant to do, and will be quite content to "-: let the matter go.no further. That is, at least, so far as anybody connected with the mission is concerned." " I am afraid he may find some meaiu of laving the blame, on you." . ' ■- "It is quite likely,'/ and Ormsgill laughed. "After all, it's a thing I'm used to, ami, you see, I'm. proscribed already. As it happens, so«is Nares. He should never , have left me, I have no doubt Herrero, who has friends in authority, will endeavour to make him regret in to- ■ night's proceedings," .. Nares glanced at one of the rigid figures that liy beneath him in the moonlight. He saw the naked black shoulders, and the soiled white draperies that had fallen apart from the ebony limbo, and a little shiver ran through him. .The heat of the conflict bad vanished now, and the pale light showed that 'his face was drawn and grey. ;? , "I struck that man," he said. "I don't know what possessed;me, but I think I %"- meant to kill him. la. one way, the thing is horrible." "'/".-"■ "Well." said Ormsgill drily, "it is also very natural. I The impulse you seem to - shrink from is lurking somewhere in most jf us. In anr case, the man is certainly dead. Hooked at him as I came up." He stopped* moment, and leaned somewhat heavily upon the balustrade with his eves fixed on the dusky form /of the negro. "The meanest thing upon this earth is the man "who sides with the oppressor /and tramples on his own kind. . Still, though I 7 think what I did/was warranted, that was : not why I shot those men. Ore doesn't always reason about these matters, as I fancy voir understand." "" : . His turned, and« looked afc /Nares, who, .sifter a momentary shrinking, steadily met : his gaze.'/- The man was whollv honest, and 1 the thing ,was clear to him. He had struck I •at last? shrewdly, in a righteous cause, and nobody could have blamed him, but, as had happened in his comrade's case, human bitterness ; had also nerved the ; blow. " Well,'', lie said slowly,: "you and I, at ■ileast, will probably hare to face the re.Bults of it." . . Again Orpisgill laughed, but a little glint crept, into 'hit-eyes.- "As'l pointedout: • we are "both of us outlawed;/ with the hand of every white man in this country against us, but we have still a, thins to do, and •somehow I almost think it; will be done." Then the turned to the man in charge of the mission. ."Nares is coming away with me. There are several reasons that make it advisable. It is very unlikely that any- . body will trouble vou furtlier about this - ' affair, and -if the blame is laid on us it ' can't greatly matter. , The score : against one of us is a tolerably long one already— «nd if my luck holds out it mav be longer. There is "just another point. . Shall I take those two bovs below away for you?" / "No," said the. other man quietly. ''"There is, at least, one duty w owe them." Ormsgill made a little gesture. "The bones of their victims lie thick along each x?,il to the interior, but, after all,\that is, perhaps, a thing for which they will not - he held * responsible, j In the meanwhile, there are one or twt- reasons why I should . outmarch Henerb if it can be When Nares is ready we will go oa again." Nares was ready in a.few minutes, and. shaking hands with the two men who went down the verandah stairway with them, they struck into the path that led' up. the steep hillside. Ormsgill's boyc plodded after them, • but when - they reached the crest of the ridge that overhung the.valley, , J ' Nares sat down, gasping, in the loose white • • sand, and looked down on the shadowy mis- .'' sion. He could sea its pale light,- blinking /// -among the leaves. ■ . - : "It stands for a good deal that I have done with," he said. ." It is a strange and i almost bewildering, thing to feel oneself '* "Still." said Ormsgill. "now and then /•the bonds of service gall.".' l ■-~ „ ! Nares made a little gesture. 10ften,,: ; he said. "Perhaps 1. was not worthy to wear the uniform and inarch under orders with the rank and file, but I think the Church Militant has, after all, a task: for - • ' the free companies which /now and, then push on ahead of her regular fighting »They march light," said Ormsgill. . "That counts for a good deal. ': It has onceI or twice occurred me that the authorised '- divisions are a little cumbered bv. their commissariat and baggage waggons. _ ' Nares sighed. "Well," he .said softly, "every one must, =at least., now and then, leave a good deal that he values or has WW-- grown attached to, behind him" ■; He Stopped a moment, and then asked abruptly, ' "You have c heard from the girl at Las Palmasv Desmond - would bring you letters'" , r>i. "No," said Ormsgjll, "not a word. She bad no sympathy with my project—that she " should havbwa, hardly to be expected. One must endeavour to be reasonable. A" There must have been a; time when you everything,." ; ■'■. , Ormsgill sat silent a minute two, and while he did so a moving light blinked among the trees below. It stopped at . length', and negro voices came , up faintly, with the hud of hastily plied shovels, it seemed that the"■terrified-converts were coming back and the missionaries had al- .- ready set them a task. Orrasg.il knew what it was, but lie looked down at the « ' rifle that glinted in the moonlight across his liiee with eyes that were curiously i steady. The thing he had done had been ■ ' forced upon him. Then he turned to his companion, and though ho was usually a reticent, man he spoke what was in his mind that night. . ' (J ;■ "There certainly was such a time, he eaid. "No doubt i+ lias come to others. . . For five long years I held last by the nemory of the girl I had left in England, P//: and! think there were things it saved me from. Somehow there was always a vague ho]>e that one day I might go back to ner— and for that reason I kept above the foulest mire. One goes under easily here iv Afrii '":' ca, Then at last the thing .became possible." /., : " ; ." r '■/ -: • ' .'-,, He broke off, and laughed, a curious litJtle laugh, before he went, on again. "I went back. Whether she was ever what I thought her I do not know— perK ' haps, I had expected impossibilitiesor those five years had made a change. We had not an idea that was the same, and the world she lives in is one that has crown Strang© to me. They think too slightly (vazy— and it is perfectly possible that ';' they are right. , Men do lose their mental *jip in Africa." I crazy—and it is perfectly possible that they are right. Men do lose their mental grip in Africa." Nare& made a little gesture which vagnei': < ; ' : - 'ly suggested comprehension and sympathy / before he looked, at his comrade with a [,-- ■'" question, in his eves*

_ " Yes," said Ormsgill quietly, " I am going on. After all, 1 owe the girl I thought she was .- a good deal—and r to• plain folks ■there is safety in doing the obvious thing." His voice - softened a little." It may be hard for her—and when I came back she probably had a. good deal to bear with too. One grow*, hard and bitter hen he has lived with the outcasts as I have done."

•Nares' understood that he meant what other men called duty by the obvious thing, but the definition, which he felt was characteristic of the man, pleased him. He was one who could, at 'least, recognise the task that Mas set before him, and, as it happened, he once more made this clear when he rose and called to the boys who had flung themselves down on the warm white sand. . ,

" "Well," he said, "wo have now to outmarch Herrero, and there is a good deal to be done.." \ „ ..'-.'* ' ,•■ ,-

They weut on, Ormsgill limping a little, for his'wound still pained him, and vanished .into the shadows. of the bush, two weary, climate-worn men who had malignant nature, and, so far as they knew, the malice of every white man holding authority in that country against them. Still, at least, their: course was clear, and in the meanwhile they asked for nothing further.

It alsc happened one afternoon while they pushed oil through shadowy .forest and steaming morass that a little and very ancient gunboat crept along the sun-scorch-ed coast. Her white paint although ) very far from fresh, gleamed like ivory on the long dazzling swell that changed to a shimmering, sliding green in her slowly moving shadow, for she was steaming eight knots, and rolling viciously. Benicia Figuera who swung in a. hammock hung low beneath her awnings did not, however, seem to mind the erratic motion. She was watching he snowy fringe of crumbling surf. creep by, though now and then her eyes sought the far, blue hills that cut, the skyline. Her thoughts were with "the' man who was wandering in the dim forests that crept through the marshes beyond them.

By and by she roused herself and looked up with a smile at the man who strolled towards her along the deck. She had met him before at brilliant functions in Portugal, where' he was a, man of importance, and he had come on board in stote-a. few hours earlier from a/little sweltering town above a surf-swept beach whose citizens had seriously strained its finances to do him honour. He was dressed simply in plain white duck, a little, courtly gentleman, with the look of one,who rules in his , olive-tinted face. He sat down in a deck chair near the girl. , ;

"After all, it is a relief to be at sea," he said. " One has quietness there." Benicia laughed. " Quietness," she said, "is a thing you can hardly be accustomed to senhor. Besides, you are in one way scarcely- complimentary to the citizens yonder." ;.■ .-■ ■ , ■ //■ _' .

" Ah," isaid her companion, "it seems they expect something from me and it is to be hoped that when they get it some of them will not disappointed. I almost think," and he waved a capable hand, "that before I am recalled they will not find insults bod enough for me." Benicia felt that this was quite possible. , Her companion was she knew - a strong man as well as an upright one who had been sent out not long ago with ample powers tc grapple with one or two of the questions which then troubled that country. It was also significant that while he was known as a judicious and firm administrator his personal views on the points at issue had not been proelaimcc.. Benicia had, however, guessed them correctly, and she took lit as a compliment : that he had i given her a vague bint of them. Perhaps, he realised it, for he watched her for a moi ment with: a shrewd twinkle in his dark

eyes. '..''"' . v ; "Senhorita," hel? said, "I almost think you know what I was/ sent out here to do One could, however, depend upon i ßenicia Figuera considering . it a confidence." : ■ - -'■ ' < ■-./" The girl glared out ?i beneath the awnings across the sun-scorched / littoral to- ] wards the - blue ■ ridge of ' the inland ; plateau before she answered him. , : " Yes," she/ said, " it was to cleanse this stable; -;I/almost think you will find it a strong man's task." . ! Her companion made a gesture of assent. ' " It is, at* least,- one for which I need a reliable broom—and I/am fortunate in. having one ready." - "Ah," said Benicia, "you, of course, mean my lather. Well, I do not think he twill fail you, and though he has not actually /told me so, I fancy he has, at least, been / making preparations for the sweeping." - The man looked at her and smiled, but -when a-moving 1: shaft of : sunlight struck him / as the steamer rolled / she saw the deep" lines, on his face and the grey in his hair. //He, as it happened, saw the little gleam of pride in her eyes, and then, the light swung back again arid they were once more' > left / in v the shadow. Yet m that moment a ; subtle, elusive something that was '-''(both comprehension and '•' confidence had:been established between them. " Dom .Clement*,'' he said, " is a man I have a great regard for. There is a good deal 1 owe him, , as he may have told /you." ' , ,■':'/- '! "He has, told nothing. / . The man spread his: hands out. "After all, it' was to be expected. ; He and I [ were comrades, senhorita, before you were born, and there/was a time when I made a blunder which it seemed must spoil my career.; There was only one man who could / save me. and at the hazard of his own future; but one would not expect such a fact to count with your father. Horn Clemente smiled at the peril and the affair was arranged satisfactorily.' / Again, lie made a little grave ; gesture. "It happened long ago, and now it seems I am to bring •trouble on him again. Still, the : years ;- have not changed him. He does not hesitate; but I feel I must ask your forbearance, senhorita. You have, perhaps, seen what sometimes happens when one does his duty." •'//•■/ Benicia smiled,' a little bitterly. " Yes," she said, "I know that • the man who is ! to rash as to attempt it in this country j is usually recalled., in disgrace.. Still, it is not a thing that happens very frequently. Dom Clemente ■ is to be made the scapegoat." ' . , /;.-./. ' -.. ' ■ . /,;- "I think," said the man, gravely, . "I may be strong -enough to save him that. It 'is possible, as I have told Hun, that he will be recalled—but what he has done will stand." / . " " / . , He spoke at last i as a ruler, with au>triority, and a trace / of ' sternness in his eyes, 'but his face) changed again. / ; "Senhorita," : he said, "if it % happens, I think you/will not grudge it, or blame me." , « : '-".'..""-.-/ ' ~ ~ '"■"■','' '.:'"' , The girl saw the opportunity she had been waiting for. - "As you - have admitted, you owe my father something, and now you hive asked something more. Is it not conceivable that you owe me a little, too. I am an influence here, and it would be different in Lisbon if Dom- Ckmente was sent home again. Besides, sometimes he will listen to me. Now and then a woman has made a change in a man's policy, and, though it is a little more difficult when the man is one's father, it might be done: again."- >"- ' : ! " ; '" /:; \ , : . , ' ' "Ah," said her companion,, ' you wish to make a. bargain." , "It would be too great a condescension, serihor," and Benicia laughed. "I want a promise that is to be unconditional. Some day, perhaps, I shall ask you to do something for me. Then you will do it whatever it is." • .;,,.,:, The man looked up at her with a little dry smile, . but, as he had admitted, he owed her fatlier a good deal, and he was not too old for gallantry. Besides that, he had the gift of Insight, and a curious confidence in this girl. He felt she would not ask him anything that was not fitting. '' „.,..., "The request," he said, is . a little vague, and, perhaps,/ I am a trifle rash, but I almost/ think ? l can /promise that what yon ask shall be done." . ..-•... Benicia reaching out from the hammock touched him with her fan. "Now" she • eaid, "I know'; what you think .of me. How shall I make my poor acknowledgments? Still, there is another thing. You will discover presently that the brooms of the: State- are slow. There are two mei; not i among its ■/' servants who have commenced the sweeping already. I think Dom Clemente knows this, but you will not mention it to him." , '« / . . Her : companion glanced • at her sharply with; a sudden keenness in his _ eyes, but he said nothing, and the' girl smiled again. ."When- you hear' of them I would like you to remember that they are friends of - mine ,"• she • said. " You > will,' of ' course,

recognise that nobody I said that of could do i anything that was r®ally , reprehensible." . \

" I might admit that. it was unlikely," said her companion. -" Then,", said Benicia, ' when the time comes I would like you to/ remember it. That is another thing you will promise." She flashed one swift glance at her companion who smiled, and then looked round as v Dom Clemente and two of the '/gunboat's .--.officer* came towards them along the deck. / She roused herself to talk to them, and succeeded brilliantly, now and then to the momentary embarrassment of the officers who were young, while the man with the grey hair lay in a dock chair a little apart watching her• over his cigar. She was clever, ■ and; quick-witted; but he knew also that she was like her father, one who at any cost stood by her friends. At. the same ~ time he was ' a . little puzzled, for in the case of a young woman friend is a term *of Jl somewhat vague and comprehensive significance, and she had mentioned that there were two of them, That appeared to complicate the affair, but :l\e had, at least, made a-promise,, and it was said of him that when he did so he usually kept it, though it was now and then in a somewhat grim fashion. There were also men in the sweltering towns beside the surf-swept beach the gunboat crawled along who would have felt uneasy had they known exactly why he had been sent out to them.

CHAPTER XXV. DOMIXGO APPEARS.

■:. They had stopped in a deserted village one morning afteiv a long and arduous march from the mission station, when Ormsgill lying in the hot white sand looked quietly at Nares, who sat with his back against one of the empty huts. ' . ' "If I knew what the dusky image was flunking 1 should feel considerably more at case," he said " Still, I don't, and there's very little use in guessing. After all x we »re a long way from, grasping the negro's point of view on most subjects yet. hey very seldom look at things as we do." '■'■ Nares nodded. "Any way, I almost fancy we could consider what he has told us as correct," he said." It's something to go upon." ' . The man he referred to squatted close by them, naked to the waist, though a few yards of cotton cloth hung from his hips. An old Snider rifle lay at his. side, and he was big and muscular with a heavy, expressionless face • . As OrmsgilJ had suggested it certainly afforded very little indication of what he was thinking, and left it a question whether he war capable of intelligent thought at all. They had come upon him in the deserted village on the edge of a great swamp an hour earlier, and he had skilfully evaded ; their questions as to what he was doing there. It was an oppressively hot morning, and a heavy, dingy sky hung over the vast morass* which they could see through the openings between the scattered huts. It stretched back bare and level, a vast desolation, towards the interior, with a little thin haze floating over it in silvery belts here and there, and streaking the forest that crept up to its edge. The carriers lay half asleep in the warm sand, blotches of white and blue and ebony, and the man with the rifle appeared vacantly unconcerned. Time is of no value to the negro, and one could have fancied that he was prepared to wait there all day for the white men's next question. "It's not very much," said Ormsgill reflectively, referring to his comrade's last observation. " Domingo, it seems, is up yonder—but there are one or two other facts which I think have their significance in our possession. Heirero is coming up behind us, and, though there are no other Portuguese in the neighbourhood, we find ! this village empty. 1 should very much like to know why the folks who lived in it haw gone awar, and I fancy our friend yonder could tell" us. ■ Still, it's quite certain that he won't." ? .* , ' , "Herrero evidently means to join hands with Domingo," suggested Nares. '.'.'" It's 1 quite possible, too, that he will do what he can to prevent us buying the six boys back 1 from the headman, who it's generally believed does a good deal of business With ! him. It's a little/ unfortunate. i- In an- \ other . week - the thing might liave been done." * : - Ormsgill nodded as one who T*<akes his mind ! up. "When in doubt go straight on —and, as a. matter of fact,' we can't afford [ to ; stop," 'he said. "Provisions are going to be a consideration. ' We'll push on and try what can be done with Domingo and the headman before > Herrero comes up." ./ He turned to the negro," and Nares ampli--1 fied his question. / - *; " Yes," said the man with the faintest 'suggestion of a grin, "I; know where Domingo is, arid if you come to our village it is verv likely that you will see him. " I f will take you to the headman for the pieces of cloth vou promise." - : He got up leisurely, and Ormsgill, who called to the boys, looked at Nares as they plodded into the forest that skirted the

swamp. ' ■• ' ' ';■ .. " It's quite certain the man was waiting for somebody, and it wasn't Hm-«ro, or he wouldn't have gone away," ho said. " That i naturally, seems to suggest lie might have been on the look out for us. In that case I should very much like to know what was amusing him." : It was not to be made clear until some time later, and in the meanwhile they pushed on for a week through straggling forest with all the haste the boys were capable of, though ' Ormsgill's face grew thoughtful ; when they twice, passed an empty village. The fact had its significance, for ? little labour recruiting had been done in that strip of country. Still, its dusky inhabitants had apparently forsaken it, and it > became more ev'dent • tliat something unusual was going on. Once only they met a. ; native, or rather he blundered upon their camp when they lay silent in the thin shadow of more open bush on a, burning afternoon, and i their guide roused himself sharply to attention when a patter of foot- " steps s came out of the stillness. Somebody was evidently approaching in haste, and Ormsgill glanced at Nares in warning when the negro who lay close beside them rose to a crouching posture and drew back the hammer of his old Snider rifle. It was clear that strangers were regarded with suspicion in that country. Then the man drew one foot under him, and sat upon it, with the arm that supported the rifle on his knee, and an unpleasantly suggestive look ; in hi* heavy face. One could 'have fancied that he meant to kill, and Ormsgil 1 stretching out a hand laid it on his comrade's ■ shoulder restrainingly. "Wait," he whispered. "In the meanwhile it's not our business." Nares waited, but he' felt it become more difficult to do so as, the footsteps grew i plains. -He could hear the little restless movement* of the boys, but he hud eyes for little beyond the ominous naked figure clutching the heavy rifle. It dominated the picture. Tall trunks, trailing creepers, and clustering J carriers grew indistinct, but he was vaguely conscious that there was an opening between the leaves some 60 yards in front of him. and his heart throbbed painfully with the effort the restraint. laid upon -'-.himself, cost him. Then a dusky figure appeared in the opening, and stopped a moment, apparently in astonishment or terror, while Ormsgill was sensible of a sudden straining after, recollection. ; The man was leanly muscular and dressed as scantily as anv native of the bush, but there was something in his appearance that was vague»Jy familiar. In the meanwhile he was also conscious that their guide's arms were stiffening rigidly, and the,man's cheek sank a little lower oil the rifle stock. He let his hand drop from Nares' ' shoulder. As it happened, he was close behind the negro, and in another, moment would have clutched him.

Just then, however, the stranger sprang forward and a little acrid smoke biew into Ormsgill's eyes. .There: was a detonation and he contrived to fall with a hand on the ground instead of upon the crouching negro with the rifle. When he looked up again the man who had narrowly escaped from the peril .by his quickness was running like a deer, and vanished amidst a crash of displaced undergrowth while their. guide flung back his rifle" breech with clumsy haste. When "he turned round there was» no sign of the stranger and Ormsgill was quietly standing on his feet. \; Only a few seconds had elapsed since the man had first appeared. ■ -■: • - * - '." ' ■ (To be continued on Saturday next).