MARIE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVIII, Issue 14820, 25 October 1911, Page 11

MARIE.

BY H. RIDER HAGGARD. • HN EPISODE IN THE LIFE OF THE LATE ALLAN QUARTERMAIN.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT. i CHAPTER X.—(Continued.)

' When she had gone 1 went, to my wagcons, where Hans was waiting for me with ft detailed and interminable report of everything that had happened in my absence. Glad was I to find that, except for the death of one sickly ox, nothing had gone wrong. When at length he had ended his long story, I ate some food, which Mario cent over for me ready cooked, for I was too tired to join any of the Boers that night. Just as I had finished my meal and was thinking of turning in, Marie herself appeared within the circle of the camp-fire's light. I sprang up and ran to her, saying that I had not expected to see her that evening, and did not like to come to the house. *• No," she answered, drawing me back •into the shadows, " 1 understand. My father seems very much upset, almost mad, indeed. If the Vrouw Prinsloo's tongue had been a snake's fang, it could not have (Stung him worse." . "And where is Pereira?' I asked. " Oil! my cousin sleeps in the other room. He is weak and worn out. All the same, Allan, he wanted to kiss me. feo I told him at once how matters stood 'between you and me, and that we were " r jLo be married in six months." i " What did,he say to that:" I asked. : > " He turned to my father and said : ' Is '*'ihis true, my uncle V And iny father answered : 'Yes, that is the best bargain I "could make with the Englishman, seeing ' that you were not here to make a better." "And what happened, then, Marie?' j ( - " Oh, then Hera an thought a while. At last ho looked up and said : ' I under- ' stand. Things have gone badly. I acted . for the best, who went away to try to find help for all of you. I failed. Meanwhile tho Englishman came and saved you. Afterwards ho saved me also. Uncle, in all this I see God's hand; had it not

been for this Allan none of us would be alive. Yes, God used him that we might ' be. kept alive. Well., he has promised thai ho will not marry Mario for six months. And you know, my uncle, that some of these English are great fools; they keep their promises even to their own loss. Now, in six months much may happen; who knows what will happen? ' " Were you present when you heard all Ibis, Marie?" I asked. " No, Allan; I was the other side of . ;he reed partition. But at those words I entered and said : ' My father and cousin Hernan, please understand that there is •one thing which will never happen. . " * What is that?' asked mv cousin. -<:• "' It will never happen that I shall Warrv you, Herman.' 1 replied. ) '• * Who knows, Marie, who knows?' he paid. _ •' • T do, Hernan/ I answered..- Even if Allan were to die to-morrow, I would not marry you, either then or twenty years hence. 1 am glad that- he has saved your life, but henceforth we are cousins, nothing more.' . , ~ , ~ "' You hear what the girl telle us, said my father; 'why do you not give .up the business ? hat is the use of kicking against the pricks?' . . " * If one wears stout boots and kicks hard enough, the pricks give way, said \Hernan. ' Six months is a long time, my uncle.' . T -j t , . '"it may be so, cousin, I said; but remember that neither six months nor six years, nor six thousand years, are long enough to make me marry any man except Allan Quartermain, who has just rescued you from 'death. Do you understand? "'Yes,' he replied, ' I understand that you will not marry me. Only then I promise that you shall not marry Allan Quartermain or any other man.' " ' God will decide that,' 1 answered, ' and came away, leaving him and my father together. . And now, Allan, tell me nil that has happened since we parted. So I told her everything, including the •, Vrouw Prinsloo's advice. "Of course, Allan, you were _ quite rjrrht ," she remarked when I had finished ; «' but I am not sure that the Vrouw Prins- " 100 was not also right in her own fashion. .-T am raid of my cousin Hernan, who holds my father in his hand—fast, last, Still, we have promised, and must keep • our word."

CHAPTER XI. THE SHOT IN the kloof. I - thill it- wcus auuui. unto weeks after : tfiess events tuui we uegan our soutnwaid tieK. Oil the morning subsequent. .to our Clival at Maraias camp, reiwa came up to me wnen several peopie were present., una, xaiaiig my nanu, tmmkea me m & - loud voieo ior nuviiig saved his lite. 'j.ueuceiorwaiu, ho declared, i snould be dearer to u-m man a biotlier, lor was - tuere not a mood • uond Detwecn us. i answered i did not, tniiiK any sued bond exisw.a; mate a, i was not suic wuat it, meant. i uau uono my auty to linn, neither leis nor more, ana there was notaluii tv bo said. v it turned out, however, that there was a great ueal i minor to bo said, sines ttieira uuued to borrow money, ' rattier, gooua nom me. an expUuwu that, owing 10 me prejudices 01 me vuigai boeis no rwinauuou auve in ma./ &uu especially ci tue scanualous-tonguca ; Vrouw rriii.-.ioo, botu no ana ms uacl ° had come to tno conclusion mat it would '-be wise ior mm to remove uimselx as soon as potsioie. Therefore ho proposed to V trek answered that I should bavo thought 1 answered that I should liavo tnought ■ bc» had done enougii solitary travelling in tms world, seeing now ins last expedition had ended. Ho replied that he nad, m- ; need, but everyone hero was so bitter - against him that no cnoico was lelfc. men ho added with an outburst of truth : "Allemachtc! Mynheer Quartennain, do you suppose that it is pleasant for mo to see you making love all day to the maid who was my betrothed, and to sec her v paying back the love with her eyes.' les, "and ooubtles3 with her lips, too, from all * 1 " 6 You could leavo her whom you called vour betrothed, but who never was betrothed to anyone but me with her own will, to starve in the veld, mynheer, Why ' then, should you be angry because I picked up that which you threw away, that, too, ' which was always my own ana not yours . Had it not been for me, there would now be no maid left for us to quarrel over, , as; had it not been for me, there wouid be no man left for me to quarrel, with about the maid." _ • the maid. God, then, Englishman, th*„ you dispose of the lives of men and women at your will? it was He Who saved us, °" He may have saved you, but it was -through me. I carried out trie relo °j these poor people whom you deserted, and i' "Tdfd "not Srt°them; I went to get ™k the powder and the only " horse with you ! Weil, that is done with, and now you want to borrow. goods to pay for cattle—from me, whom you hate. ■ You are not proud. Mynheer Peieira, when you have an end to serve, whatr that end may be," and I ok , ed + ,^ My instinct warned me against this false said treacherous man, who, I 'u r : ntr ' even then plotting m his heart to brin 0 some evil upon me. T "No, I am not proud. Why should I be, seeing that I mean to repay y vv .over for anything which you may lend me C ? reflected a. while. Certainly our journey to Natal would be easan i Pereira were not of the company. • > If he went with us, I was sure that before we came to the end of that trek, one o other of us would leave his bones on the Sf road. In .short, not to put too fine a point on it. I feared lest in this way or in that !•-; he would bring mo to my death m order that he might possess himself of Marie. '■ XVa were in a wild country, with few w

nesses and no law courts, where such deeds might be done again and again and the doer never called to any account for lack of evidence and judges. So I made up my mind to fall in with his wishes, and we began to bargain. Tho end of it was that I advanced him enough of my remaining goods to buy the cattle he required from the surrounding natives. It was no great quantity, after all, seeing that "in this uncivilised place an ox could be purchased for a few strings of beads or a cheap knife. Further, I sold him a few of the beasts that I had broken, a gun, some ammunition and certain other necessaries, for all of which things he gave me a- note of hand written in my pocketbook. Indeed, I did more ; for as none of the Boers would help him I assisted Pereira to break in the cattle he bought, and even consented when he asked me to give him the services of two of the Zulus whom I had hired.

_All these preparations took .along while. If j I remember right, twelve more days had gone by before Pereira finally trekked oft from Marais's camp, by which time ho was quite well and strong again. Wo all assembled to see the start, and Marajs offered up a prayer for his nephew's safe journey and our happy meeting again in Natal at the laager of' Relief, which was to be our rendezvous, if that leader were still in Natal. No one else joined in the prayer. Only Vrouw Prinsloo audibly added another of her own. It was to the effect that he might not come back a second time, and that she might never see his face again, either at Relief's laager or anywhere else, if it would please the good Lord so to arrange matters. The Boers tittered: even the Meyer children tittered, for by this time the hatred of the Vrouw Prinsloo for Her nan Pereira was the joke of the place. But -t'ereira himself pretended not to hear, said good-bye to us all affectionately, adding a special petition for the Vrouw Prinsloo, and off we went. I say " we went" because with my usual luck, to help him with the half-broken oxen, I was commandeered to accompany this man to his first outspan, a place with good water about twelve miles from the camp, where he proposed to remain for the night.

Now, as we started about ten o'clock in the morning and the veld was fairly level, I expected that we should reach this outepan by three or four in the afternoon, which would give me time to walk back before sunset. In fact, however, so many accidents happened of one sort or another, both to the waggon itself, of which tho woodwork had shrunk with long standing in the sun, and to the cattle, which, being unused to the yoke, tied themselves in a double knot upon every opportunity, that wo only arrived there at the approach of night, Tho last mile of that trek was through a narrow gorge cut out by water in the native rock. Here trees grew sparsely, also great ferns, but the bottom of the gorge, along which game were accustomed to travel, was smooth enough for waggons, save for a few fallen boulders, which ( it was necessary to avoid. When at length we reached tho outspan I asked the Hottentot, Klaus, who was assisting me to drive the team, where his master was, for I could not see him anywhere. He answered that he had gone back down the kloof to look for something that had fallen from the waggon, a bolt I. think he said.

"Very good," I replied. " Then tell him, if we do not meet, that I have returned to the camp." As I set out the sun was sinking below the horizon, but this did not trouble me overmuch, as I had a ritie with me, that same light rifle with which I had shot the geese in. the great match. Also I knew that the moon, being full, would be up presently. The sun sank, and the kloof was plunged in gloom. The place seemed eerie and lonesome, and suddenly I grew afraid. I began to wonder where .Pereira was, and what he might be doing. I even thought of turning back and finding some way round, only having explored all this district pretty thoroughly in my various shooting expeditions from the camp, I knew there was no practicable path across those hills. So I went on with my rifle at full cock, whistling to keep up my courage, which, of course, in . the circumstances was a foolish". thing to do. It occurred to me at the time that it was foolish, but, in truth, I would not give way to the dark suspicions which crossed my mind. Doubtless by now Pereira had passed me and reached the outspan. The moon began to shine—that wonderful African moon, which turns night to daythrowing a network of long, black shadows of trees and rocks across the game track I was following. Right ahead of me was a particularly dark patch of this shadow, caused by a projecting wall of cliff, and beyond it an equally bright patch of moonlight. Somehow I misdoubted me of that stretch of gloom, for although, of course, I could see nothing there, my quick ear caught the sound of movements.

I halted for a moment. Then, reflect- | ing that these were doubtless caused by some night-walking creature, which, even should it chance to be dangerous, would flee at the approach of man, I plunged into it boldly. As I emerged at the other end—the shadow was eighteen or twenty paces long— occurred to me that if any enemy wore lurking there, I should be an easy target as I entered the line of clear light. So, almost instinctively, for I do not remember that I reasoned the tiling out, after my first two steps forward in the light I gave a littla spring to the left, where there was still shadow, although it was not deep. Well was it for me that I did so, for at that moment I felt something touch my cheek and heard the loud report of a gun immediately behind me. Now, the wisest course would have been for me to run before whoever had fired found time to reload. But a kind of fury seized me, and run 1 would not. On the contrary, 1 turned with a, shout, and charged back into the shadow. Something heard me coming, something fled in front of me. In a few seconds we were out into the moonlight beyond, and, as I expected, 1 saw, that this something was a man— Pereira! He halted and wheeled round, lifting the stock of his gun, club fashion. "Thank God! it is you, Hecr Allan," he said; "I thought you were a tiger." " Then it is your last. thought, murderer," I answered, raising my rifle. "Don't shoot," ho said. " Would you have my blood upon you? Why do you want to kill me?" _ " Why did you try to kill me? I answered, covering him. "I try to kill you! Are you mad? Listen, for your own sake. I sat down on the bank yonder waiting for the moon, and, being tired, fell asleep. Then I woke up with a start, and, thinking from the sounds that a tiger was after me, fired to scare it. Allemachte! man, if I had aimed at you, could I have missed at that distunc®. " You did not quite miss, and had I not stepped to the left, you would have blown my head off. Say your prayers you dog ! " Allan Quartermain," he exclaimed with desperate energy, "you think I lie, who speak the truth. Kill me if you will only then remember that you will hang for it Wo court one woman, that is known, and who will believe this story of yours that I tried to shoot you? Soon the Kaffirs will come to look for me, probably they are starting already, and will find my body with your bullet in my heartThen they will take it back to Marais s camp,, and I eay-who will believe your St °" y Some, I think, murderer," but as I spoke the words a chill of fear struck me. It was true, I could prove nothing, having no witnesses, and henceforward I should be a Cain among the Boers, one who had slain a man for jealousy. His .gun was empty; yes, but it might be said that I had fired it after his death. And as for the graze upon my cheek— -why, a twig might have caused it. What should I do ' then' Drive him before me to the camp, and tell this tale? Even then it would be but my word against his. No, he had me in a forked stick. I must let hnn go, and trust that heaven would avenge his crime, eince I could not. • Moreover, by now my first rage was cooling, and to execute a m -Her U nan Pereira," I aaid. ''you are a liar and a coward. You tried to butcher me because Marie loves me and hates you, and vou want to force her to marry you Yet *1 cannot shoot you down in cold blood as you deserve. I leave it to God to punish youj as. soon or. late, He will,

here or hereafter; you who thought to slaughter me and trust to the hyenas to hide your crime, as they would have done before morning. Get you gone before 1 change my mind, and be swift. ' Without another word he turned a.nd ran swiftly m a buck, leaping from side to side a3 he ran, to disturb mv aim in case I should shoot. , When he was a hundred yards away or more I, too, turned and ran, never feeling safe till I knew there was a mile of ground between us.

It was past ten o'clock that night when I got back to the camp, where I found Hans the Hottentot about to start to look for me, with two of the Zulus, and told them that I had been detained by accidents to tho waggon. The Vrouw Prinsloo was still up also, waiting to hear of my arrival. "What was the accident, Allan?" she asked. "It looks as though there had been a bullet in it," and she pointed to the bloody smear upon my cheek. I nodded. " Pereira's? " she asked again. I nodded a second time.

" Did you kill him? " "No ; I let him go. It would have been said that I murdered him," and I told her what had happened. " Ja, Allan," she remarked when I had finished. " I think you were wise, for you could have proved nothing. But oh ! for what fate, I wonder, is God Almighty saving up that stinkcat? Well, I will go and tell Marie that you are back safe, for her father won't let her out of the hut so late; but nothing more unless, you wish it."

" No, Tante ; I think nothing more, at any rate, at present." Here I may state, however, that within a few days Marie and everyone else in the camp knew the story in detail, except perhaps Marais, to whom no one spoke of his nephew. Evidently Vrouw Prinsloo had found herself unable to keep secret such an example of the villainy of her aversion, Pereira. So she told her daughter, who told the others quickly enough, though 1 gathered that some of them set down what had happened to accident. Bad as they knew Pereira to be, they could not believe that he was guilty of so black a crime. About a week later the rest of us started from Marais's camp, a place that, notwithstanding the sadness of many of its associations, I confess I left with some regret. The trek before us, although not so very long, was of an extremely perilous nature. We had to pass through about two hundred miles of country of which all we knew was that its inhabitants were the Amatonga and other savage tribes. Here I should explain, that after much discussion we had abandoned the idea of retracing the route followed by Marais on his ill-fated journey towards Dclagoa. Had Avo taken this it would have involved our crossing the terrible Lobombo Mountains, over which it was doubtful whether our light cattle could drag the waggons. Moreover, the country beyond the mountains was said to be very bare of game and also of Kaffirs, so that food mighty be lacking. On the other hand, if we kept to the east of the mountains the veld through which we must pass was thickly populated, which meant that in all probability we could buy grain. What finally decided us to adopt this route, however, was that here, in these warm, low-lying lands there would bo grass for the oxen. Indeed, now, at the beginning of spring, in this part of Africa it was already pushing. Even if it were not, the beasts could live upon what herbage remained over from last summer and on the leaves of trees, neither of which in this winter veld ever become quite lifeless, whereas on the sere and fire-swept plains beyond the mountains they might find nothing at all. So we determined to risk the savages and the lions which followed the game into these hot districts, especially as it was not yet the fever season or that of the heavy rains, so that the rivers would be fordable.

I do not propose to set out our adventures in detail, for these would be too long. Until the great one of which I shall have to tell presently they were of an annoying rather than of a serious nature. Travelling as we did, between the mountains and the sea, we could not well lose our way, especially as my Zulus had passed through that country; and when their knowledge failed us we generally managed to secure the services of local guides. The roads, however, or rather the- game tracks and Kaffir paths which we followed, were terrible, for with the single* exception of that of Pereira for part of the distance, no waggon had ever gone over them before. Indeed, a little later in the year they could not have been travelled at all. Sometimes we stuck in bogs out of which we had to,dig the wheels, and sometimes in the rocky bottoms of streams, while once we were obliged literally to cut our way through a belt of dense bush from which it took us eight days to escape. Our other chief trouble came from the lions, whereof there were great numbers in this veld, t The prevalence of these hungry beasts forced us to watch our cattle very closely while they grazed, and at night, wherever it was possible, to protect them and ourselves in bomas, or fences of thorns, within which we lit fires to scare away. wild beasts. Notwithstanding these precautions we lost several of the oxen, and ourselves had some narrow escapes. Thus one night, just as Marie was about to enter the waggon where the women slept, a great lion, desperate with hunger, sprang over the fence. She leapt away from the beast, and in so doing caught her foot and fell down, whereon the lion came for her. ■ In another few seconds she would have been dead, or carried off living. But as it chanced, Vrouw Prinsloo was close at hand. Seizing a flaming bough from the fire, that intrepid woman ran at the lion, and, as it opened its huge mouth to roar or bite, thrust the burning end of tho bough into its throat. The lion closed its jaws upon it, then finding tho mouthful not to its taste, departed even more quickly than it had come, uttering the most dreadful noise 3, and leaving Marie quite unhurt. Needless; to say, after this I really worshipped the Vrouw Pryisloo, tliough'shc, good soul, thought nothing of the business, which in those days was but a common incident of travel.

I think it was on the day after this lion episode that we came upon Pereira's waggon, or rather its remains. Evidently he had tried to trek along a steep, rocky bank which overhung a stream, with the result that the waggon had fallen into the stream bed, then almost dry, and been smashed beyond repair. (To be continued daily.)