THE LAKE ON THE PLATEAU.

Otago Witness, Issue 2181, 19 December 1895, Page 23

THE LAKE ON THE PLATEAU.

B^ WAIRUA.

Awarded THIRD PRIZE (£8 3s) in {he Witness Prize Tale Competition of 1895. PABT I. iME years ago we had staying with us a young man of the . came of Herbert Westinall, who, was remarkable in the possession of an unusual faculty of Bilence, The gravity of life seemed to have impressed him at an age when for the mass of young men life may be most fitly caricatured as a croature with its hands in its pockets and a glass cocked in one eye. It was not that he had the distaste for levity and mental relaxation which characterises the learned prig, or the envyborn Irritation at joyousness which is so frequent an accompaniment of old age and ill-healtb, or even the solemnity attendant on the penetrating vision of the man of science, whose attitude is that of one gazing through the actions of an ingenious toy to the cogs and whee'sivhich produce the effect. Westinall's mental pose was distinct from all thv.'e, and more peculiar than any of them. In to*, liret plac?, he never showed any distaste for levity. The witticisms and anecdotes common among young men, apparently, if th6y did not amuse, neither shocked nor bored him. Neither did he show irritation, or in his handsome physique any such symptoms of ill-health as might be provocative of irritation in a mind less well-governed. It is true that he had at times a manner of staring beyond one'a immediate actions and sayings, as of one looking through a window into an unlighted room ; but hia expression at those times was not the interest of a man who sees the realisation of Mb pot theories, but something totally different. It had at such times a suggestion of smouldering rage, mingled with somewhat of the horror and the anxiety that comes of a long suspense. I do not think I can better the impression the man made on my mind than by saying that he had the appearance of one on the alert. Some two oi three months aEter the coming of Herbert Westinall, our eociety was disturbed to its foundations by something in the nature of a ■whirlwind. I allude to the unexpected arrival of my fdend Professor Thorpe," F.R.S., F.R.G.S , &c, &c. Professor Thorpe was a man who, in his passage through the forge of Nature, had somehow managed to get possession of the energy of seven or eight ordinary individuals, by which he was carried through life at a breathless speed. Though I have no doubt his transit from place to place was actually in accordance with human time-tables, yet I invariably pictured him in my rhind'u eye an flinging his trunk* throng'n space and himself following in seven-league boots like a thundcr-cl&p. He came to our place as though the devil were after him, his large assortment of baggage antedating his j arrival by some three or four minutes. For all evidence to the contrary, his paraphernalia might have been kicked from the summit of Mount Eginont through the door of Mrs B loss's bouse ; and the uproar of its arrival had not died out ere we were award of a cyclone in the passage, which was Professor Thorpe wiping bis feet on the mat. The probability of the Proftwor hating arrived from the summit of Mount Bgmont in this summary fashion was to some extent borne out by the fact that he usually had arrived from the summit of some mountain, whether Eginont or another, and usually was going to the bop of another so soon as he bad changed his clothes and dined. Thorpe, to a man of my temperament, was very much like a gale of wind. I did not like the gale, thoug*h I loved the personality of the man, but as a tonic he was simply invaluable. I took bis society with the same satisfaction that one feels in a severe duty cheerfully performed. In less than a week he had dragged me to the summit of Mount Eden, and pointed out tha unequalled view which is to bo obtained from that elevation; he had ] cajoled me to the top of Eangitoto, and convinced me by calculations that j that mountain was 900 — and not, as I coulJ well have believed, and actually averred, 9000— feet in height. He had seduced me on to Lake Takapuna, where, with a greased lead and an infinity of line, he spent several hours in endeavouring to sound and draw up samples from the bottom. Nor was this all. Auckland, according to Professor Thorpe, was the centre of recent volcanic and thermal activities of a a most interestingly violant kind, and it consequently behoved us to ascend and examine all the volcanic cones in which the isthmus abounds. Throughout these excursions I was chiefly impressed with the idea that, however violent these volcanic and thermal activities maybavebsenin the past, they were nothing to those necessary to the study of them in the present ; and on.one occasion I was so weak-minded as to confine this sentiment to the Professor. He said ; " Tha activities yoa refer to are entirely different. You surely do not imagine that volcanic action is of a mu-cular character 1" Aft6r a wetk or two of thiß the Professor one day electrified me by Baying casually that we must really be thinking of a serious expedition. Up till that moment I had supposed that our. expeditions were wholly, even painfully, seriout ; but this it appeared was not so. According to the Professor, ,"we were enjoying a rest — breathing a temporary breath of idleness, as it were. He even had the audacity to imply that his muscular fibre was losing tone from the long stagnation. lam a man of an easy-going disposition, but this was too much even for me ; I at ones confessed to a similarity of feeling, and inquired in my best satirical manner when we were really going to make a start. How about Mount Cook ? * . Thorpe was delighted, but he said I did not quite understand the object | he bad in view. Mount Cook was doubtless a very fine mountain as' a mountain ; it belonged to one of the oldest ranges at present exising on the earth's Eurface ; but as a volcano it was a failure. In \?as>, in point of fact, not a volcano at all. It therefore possessed no patticnlar interest for him. He then explained his object at length. Briefly told, Professor Thorpe's idea was to lap the immense reservoir of heat at present running to waste in the interior of the earth, and to utilise it in the generation -of motion on the earth's surface. The notion was, of course, not original with him, but it has, I thick, since been admitted that he was the first to bring the theory within the range of the possible, and to provide the only credible data on the subject which exist up to the present time. I should only confuse this clear statement of his ultimate object by going into details of his present purpose. Something he told me of lava current*, of inequalities and flaws in the structure of tbe earth's crust; something of variable and invariable temperatures; of the law that temperatures increase in a definite ratio with depth; and of some singular and highly interesting contraventions of the law which supported Borne peculiar theory of his own — I forget what it was even if I ever understood it. Suffice it to say that the Frofesspr was at present bent on the collection of data — data which would support his theory and lead to the simplification of the great problem with which it was connected. When I had apologised for my inane suggestion of Monnt Cook, the Professor went on to open out bis plane. The Rotorna and Taupo districts would absorb the greater part of tbe time he could spare to New Zealand ; but there was one object, to the north of the Auckland province, hidden somewhere, as he told me, among the Wairaamaku Range?, which he had a stroDg desire to visit. This, it appeared — for I had never previously seen or heard of it — was a lake of considerable dimensions on the summit of a bush-clad plateau, in the midst o£ some of the most romantic and beautiful scenery in the North Island. A singular point about this lake was its reputed brackiahness, and moreover there was the testimony of the only white man who had been known to make the ascent that, in addition to being salt, it was warm. Such assertions as these needed either confutation or the support of scientific authority, aud the Professor judged that he was the man to bring about either one or other of these results. I will pass over an account of the preparations we made for the expedi- . tion, as also of our intermediate excursions, and coma to the day previous to that for which our departure was arranged. This day was marked by a trivial, unpleasant, though rather singular event. The Professor, in crossing Queeu street late in the afternoon, had the misfortune to trip on the tram line and sprain his ankle so severely that all thought of mountaineering bad to be immediately and indefinitely postponed. He came home in a cabin a great rage. His face was purple with indignation, his brows knotted and contorted with pain and wrath. On the whole, dissimilarity of activities notwithstanding, I could not but liken him to one of the volcanoes of which b« was so fond. " Such," I said to myself M I assisted him from the cab, " Such is the irony of fate. Here is a man who has beheld nearly every crater in tbe known world, whose foot has passed Mcuxelyfrom peak to peak 10,000 ft in the air, who has gone unfalter-

ingly into giddy solitudes where none but goats have dared to tread before bim, and now behold him I — wrecked pn a tramway line, bis pride of power fallea and abased before the dull money-grubbers of a fourth-rate city." Poor Thorpe ! For several hours no conceivable action was adequate to satisfy his thirst for vengeance. He would sue the tramway company, the municipality, the Government ; he would mulct them iv heavy, enormous damages. He would drag them through every law court in this world— and the next — but he would have his revenge. He would write a book which should blister the country and hold it up as a laugbing-stock to civilisation. Yes, be would ba sarcastic with a sarcasm that that he hugged himself over the thought of this inexpressible irony. Then why should the men who laid the line escape 1 They should be tried, convicted, and sentenced to penal servitude for life ; that was the least they could expect. Was it conceivable in a civilised country, owning allegiance to Great Britain, that a gang of malignant anarchists and vipers should be permitted to attempt murder — cold-blooded, premeditated murder — in the public highways, and no action be taken against them? He for one would never submit to such outrage. So he raved, as unconscious of any personal guiltiness in the affair as he was of its grotesque side. At length, however, the doctor who had been called in to attend to his foot managed by threats and promises to restore him to reason, and the j whole household breathed again. | When I visited bim in his room after dinner that same evening he received me cordially, thanked ma for the consideration I had eEown during bis hour of irritation, and. immediately went off to speak of our contemplated expedition. He gave me clearly to understand that so far aa he was concerned, the scheme was at an|end ; it was even doubli ul whether his " infernal foot " — this with a recurrence to tha manner of thejafternoon — would be well in time to enable him to properly explore the Taupo volcanoes. It was' a great pity — a thousand pities. A wonder — one of the seven of .the world — might in the case of the lake on the hill be awaiting the recognition of Eciecce. If he could only obtain some reliable information on a few points from a trustworthy source I He continued in this strain so long and with euch peculiar emphasis on the " information from a reliable source," that at last I asked him point blank whether he considered it likely I would make the journey without him. "Why not?" .he asked eagerly. "Not necessarily alone. Why not? Eh?" The idea was so new to me that I was not immediately prepared with an answer, and ths more I reflected tbe less able was I to provide a satisfactory reason why the expedition should not go forward, , Like the proverbial woman, I hesitated and was lost. The Professor, perceiving that the breach he had made was for the moment without def cdcp, poured in whole broadsides of argument. He expatiated on the romantic charm of this secluded and lovely spot; he roused the spirit of adventure which lurks, frequently unsuspected, in the most matter-of-fact nature; finally he touched my ambition. In the end I capitulated, and v?hen I left him I had given my promise to make the attempt, providing some suitable person could be found to share its labours and perils. As the boat was to leave the following evening, it was necessary for me to take action at once. I accordingly set out to interview those of my friends whom I deemed most likely to appreciate the charm of the undertaking. One and all refused. Johnson was iv bed with the neuralgia ; Jameson said, " You know how it is, old man," and I recollected the existence of a Mra Jameson ; Jimson would have been delighted, but could not spare the time. When I got home again I found most of the boarders, including Westinail, in the smoking room. They condoled with me over my failure, and wished, individually, that circumstances had permitted them, &c, &c. — all save Westinall, who sat by himself, a cigar between his teeth, and in his fine dark eyes that singular smouldering light I had noticed in them on one or two previous occasions. x I lit a cigar, and helping myself to a small glass of spirits, sat down In the shadow of a curtain on the opposite side of the room. • The young man interested me curiously. Daring the last few days I had come also to believe that lin some way interested him. During meals and on other occasions when we were together, I was aware by instinct and without looking at bim that he followed intently every word I uttered. •Frequently on looking suddenly towards him I found his eyes fixed on me with a strange, daring, partly cynical scrutiny, for which I found it impossible to account by auy action or word of my own. On the first arrival of the Professor, Westinall had entered with more interest than he had hitherto shown in any subject into a discussion on volcanic action ; but this interest terminated in a most abrupt and remarkable manner, and was never resumed. Indeed the apparent favour with which he had at first regarded Professor Thorpaseemed to have given place to dislike, or at anyrate to a distaste for bis society; nor, on reflection, could I feel sure that I had any reason for congratulation on the nature of his interest in myself. As I sat enjoying my cigar and listening to the hum of conversation : around me, my attention was drawn to a peculiar nervous irritability which seemed for tbe moment to disturb the young man's ordinarily placid demeanour. He neither spoke nor was spoken to, yet it was plainly evident that something in his snrroundings annoyed him. Presently two of the boarders rose, yawned, and went off to bed. Westinall's face wore a look of relief, and as tbe room continued to empty itself his manner by degrees assumed something of its ordinary composure. Having come in later than the others, my cigar was but half consumed ; I therefore sat on. But I bad another reason for doinfj bo, arising out of the suspicion, amounting almost to certainty, that Weetinall for some purpose desired me to remain. IPinally, as I had anticipated, we were alone. Westinall rose, crossed the room, and threw the end of his cigar into the grate ; then he stretched himself, glanced at his watch, closed it with a I little click, and moved idly towards the door. Half-way tbere he paused, and leaning his back against the table, said : "I suppose you will have no difficulty in finding' a companion 1 " •• I am afraid I shall," I answered, watching him. I " I hope you won't mind my saying — that is," he hesitated ; "we are almost strangers to one another, but I trust you will not think me impertinent in offering to accompany you — should you find" "My dear fellow," I broke in, for his nervousness was almost painful, " how could I think such a thing,? If you are ready to come, I shall be delighted to have you; just say the word and the whole thing is arranged." Had I reprieved him from sudden death he could not have looked more relieved than he did on hearing my words. " You will kave by the boat to-morrow evening ? " he asked after a short silence.I signified assent, and we went into a few details as to the object of tbe expedition and the equipment necessary to cany it out. Then we parted for the night. We left by the Clansman the following evening, reaching the Bay of Islands at dawn. From Russell we crossed the water to Opua, and took train from that point to Kawa Kawa. Here we breakfasted, going on almost immediately afterwards by coach across the island to Horeke. From this place a small steamer took us by night down the broad waters of tbe Hokianga to a settlement called Omapere, a skort distance above the bar, where we passed the night. We engaged horses the following day, and, xiding some distance inland, came, shortly after noon, on a small and secluded valley amongst the forest-covered ranges in close proximity to the mountain we proposed to ascend. This valley was inhabited solely by native?, who, in the intervals of digging gum on the wide stretches of gumfield which lay between them and the sea, drew an easy subsistence from its rich aHuvial soil. They received us cordially, giving up tbe only weather-board cottage in the settlement to our use. As we intended commencing the ascent with the first streak o£ daylight, it behoved us to complete our preparations before sundown. The chief, and indeed the only one that remained, was the securing the services of a reliable native guidej and on this point I spoke to Westinall. To my surprise he received the idea coldly. He did not see any necessity for increasing our party. We could get on very well alone ; the mountain evidently presented no difficulties, or at anyrate none which the services of a guide would assist us in surmounting. I replied that the Professor had included one of more guides among the rest of our outfit, and that what was considered essential by an experienced traveller could not wisely be dispensed witb by a couple of amateurs. Westinall ceded tbe point almost immediately, though evidently more in a spirit of politeness than from conviction. We went across to the kalnga, and explained our needs to the old rangatira. He was polite but vague. The pakehaß might, of course, ascend the mountain if they wished ; no Maori ever did so — at anyrate beyond a certain point. As for a guide, he would not forbid any of his* people acting in that capacity, but he greatly doubted onr power of prevailing on them to do so. It was well known that the lake, was the aboda of a taniwha (a fabulous monster), and that death or disaster invariably followed an intrusion on his dwelling place. A chorus of assent from the older people followed this view of the caße, and I was beginning to regard the thing as hopeless, when a young man, afcer a short conversation with tbe rangatira asked me in goqd English what remuneration I was prepared to give. I replied, and we came almost immediately to terms. On the way back to our house, the young fellow, who accompanied us, explained that be had received his education in Auckland, and that tbis bad enabled him to get rid of the absurd superstitions of his race. I had

afterwards good grounds for concluding that it had not only enabled him ta get rid of these, bat also of all reverence and morality whatever. Bat, in the meantime, to an imperfect Maori scholar like myself his English was an advantage. For the rest of the evening Westinall's face woro a thonghtfnl and even anxious frown. About 8 o'clock he went out, apparently in the direction of the kalnga, and as I retired to rest shortly afterward*, I did not see him again that night. I awoke at daylight and aroused my companion, who, as oar guide had not yet put in an appearance, volunteered to go across to the wh&re and ioquiro for him. He returned after an interval of five minutes, bringing the young fellow with him. Oae glance at the latter's face convinced me that a hitch of some kind had occurred, and in a few words We9tinall gave me to understand what it was. The guide, it appeared, on farther communing with himself and his family, bad discovered certain elements of the " absurd superstition " of his race yat lingering in his constitution ; and on, this ground be begged to excuse himself from taking part in the expedition. ; This, as I subsequently learned, waa a falsehood ; but, my suspicion being" at thattime unaroused, the|plea appeared sufficiently probable. I did, indeed, • inquire whether an increase in the remuneration would have a dissolving effect on the lingering superstition, but the decision of his reply convinced me that our prospect of securing a guide was at an end. Eventually, however, on the appeal of Westinall, he consented to guide us to a point on the mountain as far as it was customary for the native* to go, and with thi3 we bad to be content. Our way lay across two or three cultivations' into a grove of handsoma titri. Traversing this, we came to a broad bui shallow and stony creek, atd then more titri, merging into light bush, with- the shadow of the mountain darkening above us as we moved. After a tramp of nearly a mile, the ascent began. A good track, passing in the manner of native tracks from spur to spur along the.ridges, took us in the course of an hou* or so to an elevation of COOft, where we found a. fine grove of miro treeß, and rested for awhile in the sombre Bhadow of their foliage. The mountain at this point thiust out a broad shoulder, which, having recovered from our fatigae, we continued to traverse in a circular direction for upwards of~a mile and a quarter, the ground being pretty level ancf but littlo cambered with undergrowth. We then came again to the steep flanks oE tbe mountain. At this point our guide paused, and expressed an intention of returning to the valley. I made a final effort to overcome bis scruples to the furthei ascent, but without success. The natives, he told us, never went beyond the point where we now stood, and even this was visited only in winter time, when the miro berries were ripe and the ,bnsh pigeons were in their finest Condition. No living Maori had ever gone on to the height — no dead one had ever gone and returned. Even pakehas had paid toll to the dread spirit who dwelt there. Right years ago two Englishmen had made th« aßcent from the opposite side; one only returned, the body of the obher was never recovered. " A guide of this sort," said Westinall, contemptuously, " would be worse than useless. He might be a source of danger. Lat the beggar go." I agreed, and we watched him plunge rapidly down the mountain out of sight. The real difficulties of our undertaking now began. We had before us a climb of hardly more than 1500 f t; yet through such dense vegetation and among rocks of such terrific magnitude that long, winding detours and even partial descents were Qf frequent.occurrence. t shall not weary the reader by a detailed account of these obstacles, but content myself with" saying that at about 3 o'clock in the afternoon we gained the summit, and found ooraelvea on a pleteau of considerable extent, without tracks and with no means oi determining In what direction we ought to proceed. We rested here for nearly an hour to refresh ourselves with food after the long climb, then, with the aid of a compssa provided by the Profeieor, moved diagonally across the plateau from east to west. The journey was long and toilsome owing to the densenesi of the scrub and the enormous bolls of the trees, which, almost buried in vegetation, delayed our passage at every point. From a height of 80ft or 100 ft at the foot of the mountain, the pines and ratas were here dwarfed to a. meagre 15ft or 120 ft, their huge orumpled branches frequently sweeping the ground, and making up in maswvenew and distortion for what they lacked in slimness and grace. It was thus not till after sunset, bub while the sky was still bright, that a sudden downward trend of -the ground and an opecing'and clearing of the forest ahead showed us to be nearing the objeot of our search. . Encouraged by the prospect of a temporary termination to my labours, fox by this time I was thoroughly tired, I was pushing eagerly forward in the wake of my companion, when Westinall, who throughout the day had been subject at intervals to fits of intense excitement, suddenly uttered a singular smothered cry and stood stock still, grasping as if for support at the bunhes around him. I hurried forward, and following the direction of bis gaza, saw before me the most singular scene I ever remember to have witnessed. The lake, rather more than a mile In length and less than half that in breadth, lay before and beneath me, beyond a heavy thicket of dwarfed fuchsias and toi grass. The sky, even at this elevation, was darkening rapidly, so that the opposite shores of the water became momentarily •more and more obscured in the mysterious twilight. But what more particularly riveted my attention and assisted to fix the scene irrevocably in my memory was tbe strange and sinister appearance of the trees that encompassed the lake. They were of great size and apparently of immense age, though probably not one of them exceeded a height of 20ft, but so twisted and distorted were they in boll and branch, so wild and wind-tossed was their appearance — though, with the exception of the draught that drew continually up the mountain, tbere was no wind— that I could not forbear tha impression of some fierce agony long endured, ever present, revealing itself in their withered boughs, and inspiring every inch of the weird scene on which I gazed. Awe-inßpiring, however, as I found this first glimpse of the lake on the plateau, I was not prepared for the extraordinary effect it had on my companion. He stood, his face blanched to the whiteness of paper, his teeth shut, a red and murderous gleam in bis eye?, while through bis whole frame there ran at intervals a strong convuMve'ehudder; - Horrified at tmV astonishing and unlooked-for change, I grasped him roughly by the shoulder. " What is it I " I cried. " What is th« matter 1 " ' He recovered himself almost instantly and regarded me with a forced and sickly smile. " I am afraid I have overdone it," he said with a final shiver; " I shall ba better in a moment." '•Are you subject to attacks of this kind ? " I aaked doubtfully ; " and it so, is there anything I can do for you ? " " Nothing whatever," be replied quickly, drawing his eyes, as if by an effort, from the lake on whioh they had again become fixed. " Shall we go forward 1 " He spoke in conventional tones, yet evidently with little notion of what he was saying. His face, to which the blood had now returned, wore a tense look of absorption in some terrible, but to me incomprehensible, idea ; the storm and stress of the most terrific passions known to humanity beat plainly through the veil of self-engros3ment which hung between him and the facts of the moment. Suddenly, with a rapid glance about him, and without any apparent consciousness of my presence, he moved swiftly forward and disappeared into the shrubs around. I followed him, and in a few minutes had the satisfaction of finding myself on a deep-trodden track, indented with the hoof-prints of the wild cattle that abound on tho summits of these ranges. Westinall strode rapidly and unfalteringly forward, visible, owing to tbe incessant deviation of the track, for only a second at a time, and in this manner, after a walk of about five minutes' duration, we burst suddenly from the bush on to a clear, grassgrown space, with the full expanse of the lake immediately before us. The rapidity of the walk, or the freer, exhilarating air which here breathed upon him, seemed to have restored my companion to the full possession o£ his senses. As he turned towards me on reaching the opening, his face, though grave, wore no unusual appearance. ' " We cannot do better than this, I think," he said, cheerfully. I glanced round and agreed with him. A large thick bush within a fen yards of the water seemed particularly designed to afford us the requisite protection from the keen night air. I .remarked on this, and added jocoeelj that he could not have come more directly to the camp had be been then before. He made no reply, but Instantly set about the collection of sticks and fallen branches, of which in a few minutes, despite the gathering darkness, we got together a plentiful supply, and piling them together a few yards from our bush we soon coaxed the dry timber into a roaring flame. Darkness was now upon us, and, beyond testing the temperature and qualities of the lake, which, somewhat to my disappointment, we found to be cold and entirely without any taint of brackishness, we were compelled to reserve our investigations for the morrow. Our supper was soon despatched, then, rolled in our blankets, with the fire before as and the bush behind, we began the night. We talked on many subject*, though in the interest of the one subject that finally engrossed us all memory of the others has long since passed from me. I remember, however,' being both interested and surprised at thf force and originality of much of Westinall's conversation. That he was a person of culture I had long conjectured, bat I was not prepared for the depth of knowledge and delicacy of fanoy he now displayed. At 10 o'clock- the moon, whose beams had for an hour or more dispersed a phosphorescent glow through the nky above us, oame up over the fringe ol stunted trees on the eastern Bhore of the lake. Our coiwerration had tafaK

on a sombre oast — due, no doubt, In part to the mysterious nature of our environment. It was, therefore, with no premonition of what was to come that I heaid Westinall, who daring the last minute had remained silent, apparently engrossed in the weird effects of the moonlight on the water, ask me whether I had ever had the disposal of a human life. " It is difficult to tell what we may not be doing at every moment of our lives " I replied, " but if you mean consciously, then — no." " Ah," said Westinall, " I have." " How did it work out ? " I af ked with interest. He leant suddenly sideways and pointed across the lake. "Do you see," lie asked, " to the left of the moon, a dark object like a rock ? " I followed the direction of his outstretched finger, and in the dim and misty distance of the farther shore caught at intervals the vision of some dark, shadowy body leaning and toppling towards the water. I told him so. "Itis a reck," he informed me. "On the summit of that rock eight years Bgo I held a man'B life in the hollow of my band." The tone was calm, dispassionate, but my heart stood still. Throughout the day vague suspicions, the outcome of indefinable looks and tones, had baunted me as to the entire sanity of my companion ; these suspicions I now felt to be confirmed ; there remained no longer a ehadow of doubt in my mind that I was in the presence of a madman. He paused a moment, his eyes still fixed on the shadowy something across the water, then continued in the same tone : " From the summit of that rock, eight years ago, I hurled a man to eternity." , " Westinall," I said persuasively, laying my hand gently on bis arm, " try, my dear fellow, to think what you are saying. Tho exertion has been too much for you ; a little sleep will put everything to rights ; try and sleep." , He was silent for a few seconds, then laughed shortly and bitterly. " You think me mad," he Baid. " I wish to God I could think so too, for then I might persuade myself lam not worse. A man may be mad through no fault of bis own, but conld he be as lam ? Is it conceivable," he asked hoarsely, " tbat in the sight of Heaven — if there be a Heaven — a murderer nay be an innccent man ? " I Bat speechless, utterly at a loss what to do, say, or believe. ' " No," be went on, recovering as with an effort bis former dispassionate tone, 11 madness is not what is the matter with me. Judge for yourself if what I ■hall tell you is the tale of a madman." " Stop 1 " I cried hastily. "If this be but the product of an unhinged imagination, it is better for you that it should not be spoken ; if it be true, then the reason ia increased a hundredfold why you should remain silent." " I hare been silent," he replied wearily, " for eight years, but there sometimes comes a time, even to the most resolutely reserved, when tbat which ia in him leaps out: it may be to his own damnation, but at any rate to his momentary relief. lam in the throes of such a moment now." "Do you recognise," I a*»ked, " that if your tale be true you probably place your life in my power 1 " " Cleaily," he said quietly ; "and I am glad also that you do, for it was to that end, and that alone, that 1 accompanied- you on this expedition." " Why 1 " I atked, confounded, recognising with an intuitive flash that this statement at any rate was true. 44 Because," be replied, " I am not sure tbat it is my own, and because the burden of it has become too great for one man to bear." "And therefore," I remarked with some bitterness, " you would throw H part of the burden on me ? " " ! "Yep," he said, " and if yen are the man I conceive you to be, you will not refuse the position." " Am I to understand," I asked in astonishment, " tbat you make this confession, if f uch it be, unreservedly and without any sort of pledge on my ! part that I shall not use it against you whenever I- see fit 1 " " I do," he replied decidedly, " without any form of pledge whatever." " Then," I said, "you place me either in th« position of the public proseCut or or in, (hat of an accessory to your crime." " Tbat," he responded briefly, "is the position— it is for you to accept or reject it." For fully five minutes we preserved an unbroken silence. Once Westinall roee and heaped fresh fuel on the fire, bis manner as I watched him being quiet and rational. Evidently he had reached tbat stage of mental excitement when every nerve in the body becomes a fibre of stael. Whether, finally, it was sympathy for a fellow creature in such an awful position, or merely the promptings of a vulgar cariosity, is of no particular moment to the reader, but my mind was made up. I turned my head slightly towards him and uttered one word : : "Weiir He moved a little, cleared his thioat, and broke abruptly into his narrative.