THE RIDERLESS HORSE

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 23134, 5 September 1938, Page 17

THE RIDERLESS HORSE

SYNOPSIS Malcolm Green came to South Africa to join Oorneille Recoulle at Bon Kspoire, the Rccou!le home, and there study forming. They had been at collcko together. Another young man, Mortimer, also stays at Bon Kspoir, but was absent on the day of Malcolm's arrival, •i.nat night Mortimer's horse comes home riderless, ;ind Corneillo decides they must search for Mortimer, who is probably hurt. CHAPTER ll.—(Continued) "lliis horse lias had a iright, you know, Corncille. Look at him." "Yes, that s odd. I'll pull on some clothes and we'll go out." "High to, I'll get the car. What shall 1 do with the horse?"

"Oh, shout for Jani, the stable boy, will you Malcolm ? He'll hear you from the rondavel." Corneillo was already lighting the candle in his bedroom. "I shan't bo a shako."

Ten minutes later Malcolm was at the wheel with Corneillo beside him and old Adhemar, with a waterproof thrown over his shoulders and his inseparable felt hat crowning his tousled grey hair, was saying: "When you find Mortimer just remind him that I always said one of our horses could throw an English rider."

"By the look of that horse," said Corneillo, as the car sped along the avenue, "1 should say that he and Mortimer parted company at least on the boundary between Campsie and van Stellcn's farm. Was he far off when you first heard him coining?" "1 couldn't be sure. I only know that I heard him coming for some minutes before 1 realised it —you know how one does that. But Mortimer may not have been thrown nt all. Isn't there a gate that he'd have to open? The horso could have got away then." "The only gate* between here and the Brandfontein commonage is one just beyond van Stellcn's house; we'll go and see if that's open. In the meantime, when we get to the far boundary of Campsie we'd better go slow and watch for him."

The brilliant lights dipped and danced over the rough farm road as they skirted the long plantation of gum trees that sheltered the Campsie orchard and passed the small tank and hand-pump that furnished that farm with its water supply. A mile further on, as the car toiled through heavy sand, the glare of the headlights struck a sudden answering gleam in the roadway, which made Corneille exclaim: "The stirrup!" It was the stirrup, whose bright burnish proclaimed it in a land where polish is not a feature of riding equipment, to be Mortimer's. But, in spitp of a scrupulous search, not a sign could they find in tho sand that lay feet deep in that sunken track, either of a fall or even of the horse's spoor. Corneillo called, but his voice, which must have carried miles in that silence, died away unanswered.

"More than likely the stirrup dropped when the horse had already got away," Corneille said. "Mortimer savs it comes of pretty easily. Let's push on." A little further on they passed the Campsie boundary and nosing down a slight hill, dropped into the rocky spruit below van StollenV homestead. Then the road improved and Malcolm increased the pace, fceiing that at any moment they must meet Mortimer. But

the road stretched out empty and lonely before them and the gate when they reached it was wide open.

CHAPTER 111. "one does not disappear LIKE Til AT I" "I suppose this means we go on?" said Malcolm. "It's the only thing to do. He may never have started; the horse may have got away from him before he mounted." Corneille laughed softly. "Whatever happened," he said, "I'll bet the air round Mortimer is blue. I should think the last time he had a fall was when he was learning to ride—and that was when he was a babe in arms." "He's a good riderr" "Oh, magnificent; one of the best I've ever seen."

Malcolm gave a sudden mighty yawn. "It's always the way," he said; "when I might have slept I couldn't, and now —oh, for bed." They drove on into the "dorp"; but when they reached the hotel at which Mortimer had dined, and Corneille knocked up the manager, it was only to learn that Mortimer had set out for homo nearly three hours earlier. "I don't like this," said Corneille uneasily. "One of two things must have happened; either he's hurt and we've missed him, lying out in the road, or else he's gone for help to one of the farms on the road—though that's not likely; he doesn't know any of those people. But we'd better call at all these places on the way back." After that, save for his brief directions when they had to turn aside into the rough tracks that led to those farm houses, they drove in silence; for as their search narrowed down their un-

easiness gave place to anxiety. "There are only two places to try at now," announced Corneille, as they drove off after their fourth fruitless call; "van Stellen's mid Campsie. This thing defeats me, Malcolm. It's absurd to think of Mortimer disappearing like this. When we set out to look for him I never doubted that we'd be home again in half an hour.'' "It's certainly darned odd," .Malcolm agreed. "But I shouldn't worry about it, old lad. These things always end quite simply and obviously." "Well, anyhow, now for old I'iet van Stellen; he'll probably rage at us." Corneille knew his neighbour. The old man's dislike of both acquaintances and strangers found vent, that night, in a torrent of abuse hurled at them in a mixture of Knglisli and Afrikaans. He was not interested in Mortimer, ho hoped he might never see him again, trespassing on bis land and disturbing his sheep; and as for them, if Corneille wasn't his father's son he'd set his dogs on them. The intervention of his son, .Japie, added to his violence. Tlnn, just as .Malcolm and Corneille, realising that the sooner they departed the better, turned to go, Mrs. van Stellen, candle iu hand, appeared behind her husband and son. At sight of the tall, gaunt woman old van Stellen's anger died awav and lie stood silent and abashed, while his wife, after receiving Corneillo's reply to her inquiry of what they wanted, replied, "He is not here," shepherded her menfolk into the house, and peremptorily shut the door. "What, a family!" said .Malcolm. "I shouldn't like to trespass on their land." "They're always like that—and a most unusual example they are, of' a most hospitable and kindly'people. But the whole district just accepts them as they are—though Japie is a good chnp. 7

Dawn was breaking when tlioy reacherl Gampsie. "Ho can't bo here," Corneille said, or there'd be some sign of life about." I hen he banged on Channing's window. "Chan! Chan!" lio called. "Has Mortimer been here?" A sleepy growl answered him. "For goodness sake wake up, Chan! It s serious. We've been hunting fqr Mortimer all night; ho was thrown by bis horse somewhere on the road to Brandfontein, and there's not a trace of hint." Channing's reply, this time, held the halt-comprehending surprise of ono suddenly awakened. "What's that? Mortimer hurt 3 Come 111, man." It was dark inside, the muffled dark .A s ' p ®ping bouse. Corneille went swiftly along tho übiquitous passage,

By JEAN and CYRIL CASALIS A mystery story of strange happenings by night beside a South African river, where only slender clues are available'to lead toward an answer to a great riddle.

(COPYRIGHT)

But their reception by Adhemar, who hurried out at sound of the car told them that Mortimer had not come home. Father and son stared at each other. "But he must be somewhere on the road," insisted Adhemar. "One does not disappear here like that." The sun's first rays caught the tops of the tallest trees as they went into the house, dishevelled and weary. The inviolable peace of Bon Espoir seemed to have been broken.

CHAPTER IV. "WHO is this professor ?" Breakfast was unusually early that morning, but long before it was over Sergeant Pienaar of the South African Police, accompanied by a native constable, had arrived in response to a note, sent off by Adhemar after Malcolm's and Corneille's return. Channing had arrived even earlier, and now, spurred 011 by the idea of resuming the search, he, * Adhemar, Corneille and Malcolm were hurrying through breakfast, while the sergeant sat a little apart, sipping a cup of coffee and listening to the efforts all were making to reassure each other.

"Is there anybody, beside van Stellen, with whom he has had words!'" asked Malcolm. Adhemar answered him. "Mortimer is liked by everybody. Such a quiet, cheerful fellow<loes not make enemies easily. 1 am sure even van Stellen has nothing against him. Van Stellen has always been rough during the twenty years 1 have known him, but 1 know lie has a good heart." "Natives, I suppose, wouldn't attack a man on the road?" suggested Malcolm.

A chorus of protests denied such a possibility. The filling and lighting of pipes gave the sergeant the opportunity of carrying out his official business. It was, however, apparent that he did so with reluctance, as if unwilling either to treat the event as serious, or to disturb the peace of mind of a household for which he entertained respect, and even affection.

"Now, .Mr. Recoulle," he said apologetically, taking his notebook and pencil from his pocket, "will you just tell me, again, exactly what Mr. Mortimer said and did, before he left for town? Mind you," he added, "I don't think, myself, that all this is necessary, but I must put everything down." "Quite right, sergeant," replied Adhemar.

He repeated, almost word for word, what he had already told Corneille about Mortimer's departure, and his excitement at the prospect of meeting the professor. "Who is this professor?" "I had forgotten his name," said Adhemar, "but i looked in the paper this morning; it is Professor Austin of Capetown University. He is going to the Maluti Mountains to see the flowers growing there." "What did you say to Mr. Mortimer when he told you about the professor?" "I made a joke about his flowers. He laughed, and said that 1 did not know ! what a clever fellow the professor was, and how much it would help him to meet him. Yon must understand that flowers are 1 always a little joke between me and Mr. Mortimer, sergeant. Well, after lunch he went out, and 1 didn't see him again till tea-time. He came to my oflicc then, and asked me if I would see to the milking, because he had telephoned to the professor at the hotel, and was going to have dinner with liiin." "Is that when he left for town?" "Xo! lie said lie must first go and find a flower for his professor, and when 1 said it was then a romantic affair, lie said lie wouldn't be back for tea, and I saw him walk off in a hurry, J toward Campsie." "That's right," put in Channing. "I didn't see him myself, but one of my boys—Tom—saw him. He was walking fast on the other side of the 'khotlo'— the kloof that runs through my farm, sergeant—going toward van Snellen's, I brought the boy over with me this morning and you can ask him about it yourself. "When did he get back?" "Ho wasn't away for more than an hour," replied Adhemar. "L heard him tell the groom to saddle his horse, and when I came out of the office ho was just going to ride off." "What time was that?" "About 5.30. He was in a great hurry, and very happy and excited. It's extraordinary how excited people can make themselves, just over flowers." "Did he say anything before ho rode away?" ".Just that he would be back again that night, and he gave mo a message for Corneille. Flowers are also a joko between Mr. Mortimer and my son—is that not so Corneille?" and son exchanged a smile. Then Adhemar completed his evidence by repeating Mortimer's message. After hearing Corneille's and Malcolm's account of their search the sergeant asked to see Mortimer's horse, and the saddle with its missing stirrup, and the whole party repaired to the stables which Jani, the groom, was cleaning. The horse was led out. Corneille held it, while Jani fetched the saddle. Then the sergeant, who had turned to meet Jani as he reappeared with the saddle, spoke, and there was a hint of triumph in his voice which brought the others crowding round him. "Hero you are Mr. Recoulle. Here is at least something we can work on." (Tiv ha continued daily.)

with Malcolm groping behind him, and entered Clmnning's bedroom. Pie was out of bod and was hastily getting into a pair of khaki trousers. The wavering flame of the candle he had lighted, lmll'-lit, half-shadowed the large room, in which an odd assortment of farm equipment seemed to have established supremacy over the legitimate furniture. .Malcolm stood in the doorway looking at the untidy room, a reflection in many ways of it's owner, Corneille's greatest friend since his return from England. Channing was a fine figure of a man despite his heavy features and phlegmatic expression. "What can have happened, do you think, ("ban?" Corneille burst out, and recounted the tale of their search with an anxiety which he 110 longer tried to conceal. "We've combed the road, and there's not a trace of him. All we've found is one of his stirrups." "\yhere was that?" asked Channing, pulling on and lacing a pair of muddy boots.

"011 that hill-crest just before your boundary," Malcolm said. "Yes, on the 'bult'." confirmed Corneille.

"But man, if he came off there, he may have taken a short-cut this way, and walked home; then you would have missed him coming round by the road. He's probably back home long ago." "There's something in that, we'd better make sure, Corneille."

Corneille looked incredulous, but Channing added: "Yes, man, that's the best thing to do. But mind you let me know if he isn't there, and I'll come out with you and help. We'll get all the boys on the job and we'll soon find him. Nothing can have happened to him. Corneille, man." "Cheerful room to wake up in," commented Malcolm, as the}' raced toward Bon Espoir. "Oh that doesn't' bother Chan; but Cynthia—that's his sister—has her work cut out trying to keep the store from getting mixed up with the house. Still he's a good chap and a good farmer; you'll liko him—gosh, Malcolm, I clean forgot it's the first time you've seen him! And let's hope he's right about Mortimer."