FINISHED.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LIV, Issue 16561, 9 June 1917, Page 3 (Supplement)

FINISHED.

.'' • . BY H. RIDER HAGGARD, ,'•■ Author of "Kins Solomon's Mines," "Allan ';' Quatermain," "Heart oi the World," A "Shu." "The PeopU of the Mist," * " Cleopatra,"

(COPYRIGHT.)

SYNOPSIS.

In the opening chapter Allan Quatermain addressed his scribbWs to his friend, who had taken part in the series of events that , the story unfolds. On his return from a •hooting expedition Allan Oiiatermain arrives m Pretoria on the day Sir Theophilus nepstone s proclamation, • annexing tho Transvaal, was read. In the crowd he meets Anscombe, an old friend. Anscombe wishes him to bo buffalo shootm*. <? we Lydenburg district wjth him. But Quatermam has certain obligations to fulfil, and a strange compact is made. At the end of 18 months thoy are to meet in Pretoria and go on the shooting expedition to Lydenburg. Anscombe hands Quatermain a cheque of £60 as a forfeit in the event of the trip not coming off. During the 18 months he visits India, goes to England., and they meet in Pretoria at the appointed time. * They trek off, and their first adventure is an encounter with a vildebecste, which Quatermain shoots. Puszled and surprised they come upon a house of magnificent architecture in the wilderness, and are accosted by a man of an unusual typo, who Questions their right to shoot on the land. They explain, ana in the course of conversation they find the man's name is Maraham and that he lives with his daughter Hcda and his uartnor, Mr. Todd. Mr. Marnham asks them to visit him on their way backhand informs them that tho Sikukuni are likely to give trouble. CHAPTER IWContinued.) "Did that bush give you any particular impression?" asked Anscombe a minute or two later. " Yes," I answered, " it gave me the impression that we might catch fever there, See the mist that lies over it," and turning in my saddle I pointed with the rifle in my hand to what looked like a mass of cotton wool over which, without permeating it, hung the last redglow of sunset, producing a curious and indeed rather unearthly effect. "I expect that thousands of years ago there was a lake yonder, which is why trees grow so big in the rich soil." " You are curiously mundane, Quatermain," he answered. "I ask you of spiritual impressions and yon dilate to me of geological formations and the growth of timber. You felt nothing in the spiritual line?" "I felt nothing except a chill," I answered, for I was tired and hungry. M What .are you driving at?" "Have you got that flask of Hollands about you, Quatermain?" "Oh! thoso are the spirits you are alluding to," I remarked with sarcasm as I handed it to him. He took a good pull and replied: "Not at all, except jr. the sense that bad spirits require good upirits to correct them, as the Bible teaches. To come to fact," he added in a changed voice, "I have never been in a place that depressed me more than that thrice accursed patch • of bush." "Why did it depress you?" I asked, studying him as well as I could in the fading light. To tell the truth I feared lest he had knocked his head when the vildebeeste upset him, and was suffering from delayed concussion. "Can't tell you, Quatermain. I don't look like a criminal, do 1? Well, I en- . tered those trees feeling a fairly honest ~. man, and I came out of them feeling like tt£ft a murderer. It was as though something v ' terrible had happened to me there; it was .. ... as though I had killed someone there. ... Ugh!" and ho shivered and took another j pull at the Hollands. *■"• _ "What bosh!' I said. "Besides, even if ,\, it were to come true, lam sorry to say iv-s;; I've killed lots of men in the way of business and they don't bother me over- *,-•. much." ];rf. "Do you ever kill one to win a wo- ! ..-->-„ man?" Sb,;" Certainly not. Why, that would be jgg ■ murder. How can you ask me such a >■ thing? But I have "killed several to win P cattle," I reflected aloud, remembering fe-j- my expedition with Saduka against the ill chief Bangu, and some other incidents ; n §H my career. %%.- "I appreciate the difference, QuaterI■.■: • main. If you kill for cows,, it is justifiable i homicide; if you kill for women, it is murder." • "Good lord! what an argument," he exclaimed and relapsed into silence. Had, • i he been accustomed to natives and their v ways he would have understood the point much better than he did, though I admit V: it is difficult to explain. . Vri;.. In due course we readied the wagon .:}<■; without further trouble. While we were - •rooking our pipes after an excellent supSir I asked Anscombe his impressions of r. Marnham. "Queer cove, I think," he answered. "Been a gentleman, too, and still keeps • the manners, which isn't strange if he is .one of the Marnhams, for they are a ? h good family. I wonder he mentioned hav.s?•" ing served with my father." -It slipped out of him. Men who live : r a lot alone are apt to be surprised into ~ saying things they regret afterwards, as I noticed he did. But why do you won- ! der?" ~ " Because as it happens, although I have • '<. only just recalled it, my father used to L'.-- tell some story about a man named Marn- "■-'•'• ham in his regiment. I can't remember *.- the details, but it had to do with cards, Vv,.when high stakes were being played for, V"- and with the striking of a superior officer It Was requested to send in his papers." ? ■ "It may not have been the same man." • "Perhaps not, for I think that more i •., than one Marnham served in that regiment. But I remember my father saying, . bv way of excuse for the person concerned, that he had a most ungovernable temper. \?l think," he added, "that he left the : ';.. country and took service in some army on ; '. the Continent. I should rather like to ; 'clear the thing up." Is • "It isn't probable that you will, for !|i even if you should ever meet this Marn- * fs, ham again, I think you would find he ' {r will hold his tongue about his acquain- ! £ tance with your father." ' ? "I wonder what Miss Heda is like," ' ;;■' went on Anscombe after a pause. "I am ' \'-\ curious to see a girl who designs a house p, on the model of an ancient ruin." , "Well, you won't, for she's away somey where. Besides we are looking for / buffalo, not girls, which is a good thing ' ' ■ as they are less dangerous." I spoke thus decisively because I had ■, taken a dislike to Mr. Marnham and • everything to do with him, and did not l wish to encourage the idea of further < meetings. j ' "\ " No, never, I suppose. And yet I feel as though I were certainly destined to see that accursed yellow-wood swamp , •gain." _ I "Nonsense!" I replied as I rose to turn a ■ in. Ah! if I had but known. j CHAPTER m. I ;'i- THE HUNTERS HUNTED. J j While I was taking off my boots 1 j •j, heard a noise of jabbering in some native c '$ tongue which I took to be Sisutu, and not „ JE wishing to go to the trouble of putting „ ;\ them on again, called to the driver of f the wagon to find out what it was. This a man was a Cape Colony Kaffir, a Finco I „ ;. think, with a touch of Hottentot in him. He was an excellent driver, indeed I do c not think I have ever seen a better, and t, by no means a bad shot. Among Euro- n peans he rejoiced in the name of Footsack, a Dutch term which is generally a addressed to troublesome dogs and means {j < "Get out." To tell the truth, had I been y , his master he would have got out, as I J . suspected him of drinking, and generally i did not altogether trust mm. Anscombe, d however, was fond of him because he had fj hown courage in some hunting adventure '* Matabeleland. I think it was at the ti ; ; shooting of that very dark-coloured lion g - whose skin had been the means of making w • i lß * acquainted nearly two years before. n v» Indeed he said that on this occasion Foot- / sack had saved his life, though from all j ■■/ that I could gather I do not think this « |, w as quite the case. Also the man, who <Ji had been on many hunting trips with g, sportsmen, could talk Dutch well and Eng- w !;':. ™" enough to make himself understood, w % • and therefore was useful. ' b, ■'• vHe went as I bade him, and coming Si back presently, told me that a party of d< ■Basutos, about thirty in number, who u were returning from Kimberley, where B ) j/■ they had been at work in the mines, under tc ; we leadership of a man named Karl, ■

asked leave to camp by the~waggonfor the night, as they were afraid to go on to J. ample in the dark. - «m k first I could not make out what 1 ample " was, as it did not sound like a native name. Then I remembered that Mr. Marnham had spoken of his house as being the Temple, of which, of course, 1 ample was a corruption; also that he said he and his partner were labour agents. "Why are they afraid?" I asked. Because, Baas, they say that they must go through a wood in a swamp, which they think is haunted by spooks, and they much afraid of spooks." What spooks!" I asked, "Don't know, Baas. They gay spook of someone who has been killed." "Rubbish," I replied. "Tell them to go and catch the spook; we don't want a Jot of noisy fellows howling chanties here all night." . "How can you bo so hard-hearted, Quatermam? After the supernatural terror that, as I told you, I experienced in that very place, I wouldn't condemn a kicking mule to go through it in this darkness. Let the poor devils stay; I daresay they are tired." So I gave in, and presently saw their fires beginning to burn through th« end canvas of the waggon which was unlaced because the night was hot. Also later on I woke up, about midnight I think, and hoard voices talking, ono of which I reflected sleepily sounded very like that of Footsack. Waking very early, as is my habit, I peeped out of the waggon, and through the morning mist perceived Footsack in converse with a particularly villainouslooking person. I at once concluded this must be Karl, evidently a person compounded of about fifteen parts of various native bloods to one of white, who, to add to his attractions, was deeply scarred with smallpox and possessed a really alarming squint. It seemed to me that Footsack handed to this man something that looked suspiciously like a bottle of squareface wrapped up in «ried grass, and that the man handed back to Footsack some small object which he put in his mouth. Now, I wondered to myself, what is there of value that one who does not eat sweets would stow away in his mouthGold coin perhaps, or a quid of tobacco, or a stone. Gold was too much to pay for a bottle of gin, tobacco was too little, but how about the stone? What stone? Who wanted stones? Then suddenly I remembered that these people were »aid to come from Kimberley, and. whistled to myself. Still I did nothing, principally because the mist was still so dense that although I could see the men's faces, I could not clearly see the (articles which they passed to each other about two feet lower, where it still lay very thickly, and to bring any accusation against a native which he can prove to be false is apt to destroy authority. So I held my tongue and waited my chance. It did not come at once, for before I was dressed those Basutos had departed together with their leader Karl, for now that the sun was up they no longer feared the haunted bush. It came later, thus: We were trekking along between the thorns upon a level and easy track which enabled the driver Footsack to sit upon the voorkisse or driving box of the waggon, leaving the lad who is called the voorlooper to lead the oxen. Anscombe was riding parallel to the waggon in the hope of killing some guineafowl for the pot (though a very poor shot with a rifle he was good with a shotgun). I, who did not care for this small came, was seated smoking by the side of Footsack, who, I noted, smelt orjjin and generally showed signs of dissipation. Very suddenly I said to him: " Show me that diamond which Karl gave to you this morning in payment for the bottle of your master*! drink." It was a bow drawn at a venture, but the effect of the shot was remarkable. Had I not caught it, the. long bamboo whip Footsack held would have fallen to the ground, while he collapsed in his seat like a man who has received a bullet in his stomach. " Baas," he gasped, "Baas, how did you know " I knew," I replied, "in the same way that I know everything. Show me the diamond." " Baas," he said, "it was not the Baas Anscombe's gin. it was some I bought in Pilgrim's Rest. " I have counted the bottles in the case and know very well whose gin it was," I replied ambiguously, for the reason that I had done nothing of the sort. Show me the diamond." .: . Footsack fumbled about his person, his hair, his waistcoat pockets and even his moocha, and ultimately from somewhere {{reduced a stone which he handed to me. I looked at it, and from the purity of colour and size, judged it to be a diamond worth £200, or possibly more. After careful examination I put it into my pocket, saying: "This is the price of your master's gin and therefore belongs to him as much as it does to anybody. Now, if you want to keep out of trouble, tell me—whence came it into the hands of that man, Karl?" " Baas," replied Footsack, trembling all ; over, "how do I know? He and the rest : have been working at the mines I suppose he found it there." "Indeed! And did he find others of the same sort?" "I think so, Baas. At least be said that he had been buying bottles of gin with such stones all the way down from ' Kimberley. Karl is a great drunkard, I Baas, as I am sure, who have known him i for years." ■ " That is not all," I remarked, keeping ! my eyes fixed on him. "What else did , be say?" ' "He said, Baas, that he was very , much afraid of returning it to the Baas Marnham whom the Kaffirs call White- J beard, with only a few stones left." r "Why was he afraid?" j " Because the Baas Whitebeard, he who j dwells at Tample. is, he says, a very . angry man if he thinks himself cheated, ( ind Karl is afraid lest he should kill { iim as another was killed, he whose ipook haunts the wood through which hose silly people feared to pass last ] light." " Who was killed and who killed him?" j [ asked. . "Baas, I don't know," replied Foot- i lack, collapsing into sullen silence in a vay that Kaffirs have when suddenly they ealise that they have said too much. tfor did I press the matter further, hav- , ng learned enough. j What had I learned? This: that J Messrs. Marnham and Todd were illicit liamond buyers, 1.D.8.'s as they are , ailed, who have cunningly situated themelves at a great distance from the scene ■ if operation? beyond the reach of civilBed law. Probably they were engaged ,lso in other nefarious dealing with I 1 Caffirs, such as supplying them with guns ; therewith to make war upon the whites, iekukuni had been fighting us recently, so a hat there would be a very brisk market r or rifles. This, too, would account for a ifarnham's apparent knowledge of that r hief's plans. Possibly, however, he had " io knowledge and only made, a pretence c f it to keep us out of the country. c Later on I confided the whole story ° nd my suspicions to Anscombe, who was v nich interested. 8 "What picturesque scoundrels!" he ex- ° [aimed- "Wo really ought to go -back v 0 the Temple. I have always longed to ? leet some real live 1.D.8.'5.' 1 . < ° "It is probable that you have done that P iready without knowing it. For the rest, J! ! you wish to visit that den of iniquity, ™ ou must do so alone." " "Wouldn't whited sepulchre be a bet- |' ar term, especially as it seems to cover . ead men'B hones?" he replied in his "' rivolous manner. * Then I asked him what he was going °' i do about Footsack and the bottle of °' in, which he countered by asking me ™ hat I was going to do with that dia- * wnd. Pi " Give it to you as Footsack's master," °' said, suiting the action to the word. w I don't wish to be mixed up in these » cuhtful transactions." °) Then followed a long argument as to J* ho was the real owner of the stone, di Inch ended in its being hidden away to D < i- produced if called for, and in Foot- «' ick, who ought to have had a round to Dzen v receiving a scolding from his mas- e * >r, coupled with the threat that if he ? l ole more gin he would be handed over in i a magistrate—when we met One. 0l (To be continued on Wednesday next.) ,*<>