[All Rights Reserved.] WHAT TRADER LANE DID ON CHRISTMAS DAY.

Otago Witness, Issue 2546, 31 December 1902, Page 65

[All Rights Reserved.] WHAT TRADER LANE DID ON CHRISTMAS DAY.

♦ By Harold Bintxloss. (Author of "Ainslie's Ju-Ju," "The Concession Hunters," etc.) There were but two sets of Europeans in the Degamba forest of Western Africa, where, the naked bushmen say, many devils dwell, though the white man calls them pestilence, horror of loneliness, and mental aberration. There are also human leopards, who do foul murder in honour of the Ju-Ju, and Missionary Rowlands, assisted by his wife, Miss Lilian Faber, and one male colleague, had been sent up there to preach peace and goodwill. Lane, the reckless trader, and Gibson, who drank' too much, dwelling in a mildewed factory, also held their lives lightly in the Degamba bush. Rowland's protested against them both, because they sold the negroes gin, and had, when forced to, shot one or two of them. His -wife, however, sometimes checked him, for she and Miss Faber had travelled in the same steamer with Lane, who, by virtue of a training which should have fitted him for a better post, had done them graceful kindnesses, and was set- down by them as a Government officer. So she said there was good in every man, even in a gin trader, but the girl, who should never have been" sent there, ■ said nothing. She had been taught that those who sold the bushman gin trafficked in human souls, and that all which delighted the senses might foe a trap to sin, and yet she had found pleasure in the young man's smile and the light in his steely grey eyes when they sought- her face. Tbat dream vanished, for one fateful night when Lane, with characteristic boldness, journeyed through the swamps to pay his respects to Mrs Rowlands, her husband — who was of the Church militant — denounced him as a dealer in poison and a renegade, who sold the mutinous tribesmen breach-loading arms. Lane, being a proud raanj did not deny the charge,'' though he knew a Dutchman had sold the rifles; but bowing to Mrs Rowlands, turned his back on Degamba. Sti-iding out into the verandah he came upon Lilian, who had heard what had passed. She shrank from him, white with indignation, as from something contagious, gathering her skirts about her, but Lane held her fast. "Do you believe this slander?" he asked. "How dare you touch me !" said the girl, Singing off his hand. ' "You, the chief of the gin factory, and partner of the outcast ruffian Gibson ! How dare you deceive me?" / Lane dropped his hand, and stood haughtily erect under the hanging lamp, for the contempt in the girl's face stung him to the quick. "Are you not judging too hastily?" he said. • "I was not always a gin trader, and may not always be. There is room for a determined man in healthier lands than Africa, and I was hoping for your sake to " The shock had been too much for the girl, and, smarting under the remembrance that there might have been reasoi for his hopes, she shrank farther from him, and answered, catching at her breath, "You were foolish. You have taught me to despise you utterly; and 1 could almost wish that due punishment might overtake your wickedness. Must I say still more? Go." Lane went, and his sable carriers related that he called on the white man's devils all the way to the factory, while Lilian locked herself into her room, and found small comfort in her victory over her natural affections. So while rumours of coming warfare spread through the bush there was silence between mission station and factory, and Lane might never have seen Lilian Faber alive again but for a black trader's intervention. It was a sweltering December night when Gibson, worn out at iast by fever and alcohol, lay gasping in the factory. All round stretched the forest, steamy, solemn, and still, breeding fever under the fervent heat, and the sweat stood beaded 'on the forehead of-ifcs latest victim as he said, "Christmas in afew days, Lane? Sounds out of place, doesn't it, in the devil's country? I've had fancies lately. Last night the old Itanga headman stood there and talked to me. H<» hadn't much of a grievance, for it was to save his own life mad Neville shot his son. Of course they poisoned- Neville, but- he was a good partner, and you favoured him. That's why, when you were stranded in Free Town, I took to you." j "Rubbish !" said Lane. "Sleep sound while you cau. We'll have Itanga's bushmen down on us before New Year's Day." ] There was a light in the sick man's eyes as he ansAvered. "I'd die happy if only I could settle my account with the red-handed murderer. Still, he'll call first on Rowlands, and Rowlands, thick-skulled idiot, wouldn't go whileIhe road was open. I'm not drunk, only fever-crazy, Lane ; but I had- another fancy. A girl I used to know in England — she's dead, poor soul, long ago — bent down and looked at me. Wanted me to do something, but what it was I didn't know, and when I stretched my hands out she vanished. Lord ! how I remember her singing carols with tht voice ol an angel that last Christmas Sunday. But she learned my weakness — and I came out to this pla-se of torment." Gibson ceased, and there was silence, intensified by the night voices of the bush, until a half-naked negro came swiftly up the verandah stairway. He was a small bush trader they did business with, but now he carried a gaspipe gun, and when he explained his presence Gibson said : "Itanga's going for Rowlands! He'll burn up preacher and convert together, as the other tribesmen did. Young Urmston's West Indias are 30 miks away, and every trail is watched. Lane, there are two women yonder — you understand me?" "Yes," said the younger man, who had savagely clenched his hands. "Somebody must warn Urmston, but how can I leave you to -'-

I "To go out alone?" said Gibson. 'Til I last until the rains. Itanga's scouts would | do worse than shoot if they laid hands on you, but that missionary is a plucky white man, any way. What was it he said — shameless reprobate, blood" of the African upon my head? Well, it was his business, and you can tell him that upon my deathbed I forgive him." Lane stooped, and grasped the claw-like hand the other stretched out. "You're a {;ood fellow, Gibson. It cuts me hard to cave you ; but there are the women," he said, and the alcohol-soaked trader smiled wistfully. . "You have just got to do it, and with luck you'll bring in the West- Indias on Ghristmas Day. For the honour of the old country, where it's cool and cool, while here it's hot as — well, aren't you going before the scouts get ahea-d of you? I'd say God bless you, partner, but it wouldn't come well from me." It was Christmas Eve when Lieutenant Reginald Urmston sat inside his lighted tenfc in the African forest reading a letter which made him homesick. It told of approaching fa-mily festivities, and he was spending Christmas, in sweltering Africa, with 20 black soldiers to keep .him, company. One of them was singing "a Methodist* hymn appropriate to the season, -but he sang it • dismally,-* and Urmston, who growled, moved to the tent.doQr, listening, to the pit-pat of a sentry's feet. It ceased abruptly, a rifle_ flashed, and Urmston heard a click as another cartridge slipped into the^ breech. Then a shout came out of the shadows, and, starting, he called, "It's a white man ; order your rifle !" • It was a very weary white man, in thornrent garments, who limped into the tent, saying hurriedly, "I'm trader Lane, mid want you to fall in your men and start in five minutes on an eight-league march with me." ' • " "I've heard trader Lane was a cool man-, 1^ said the officer. "Now I believe it. JJeeri made a brigade-commander lately; or are the niggers burning tip your factory? Hullo ! there's blood upon your jacket." "Itanga's war-boys are marching on the mission station, and there are two Englishwomen there," answered Lane. "I fell among his scouts, and one got a scratch in before I shot one of them." "Two women!" said Urmston. "You'll' excuse me. Ready- in 10 minutes if -you'll guide us." The call of a -bugle was followed by a jingle "of steel, dusky" .men in blue aiiriform/fell in before the tent, and in 15 minutes the glade was empty, and the West Indias were floundering shoulder-deep through tall grasses or fo the- kfiees in mire. Christmas Day broke hot. and pitiless upon Degamba, and its white inmates found themselves almost alone, for the "sable converts had departed in a hurry for the bush. Still, knowing every path" was" watched by his enemies, Missionary Rowlands tried to hide his fears, and gathered his companions in- the long_.room beneath the pile-raised dwelling. It was hot as an oven, the jmell of the forest entered the open windows, and when Lilian opened the little organ, the music seemed strangely feeble against the hush of its eternal shadow. Rowlands's heart- smote him as he glanced at her. She looked so young and helpless as she sat singing bravely ! though her face was white as the plain dress that could not conceal its wearer's j symmetry. But her voice rang true and clear, a shaft of African sunlight made a glory in her hair, and she forgot her troubles in the ancient message tha* first the bright-winged angels sang. - Hardly had she finished than a shadow fell blackly athwart the doorway as a negro" sprang in, one of the few who remained faithful, and he was » heathen Kroo. "Lib for wake up your Ju-Ju ; the warboys come!" he sai.dGrim and seasoned to peril, Rowlands auietly pronounced the benediction before he led his party to the elevated verandah, from which 'hey could look down into the river. Where shimmeringly it cut the forest, canoes were sliding • down, and he said, "There can be no earthly help, and the end is near. We are not the first to give our blood for benighted Africa." Still, his face grew furrowed as he glanced towards the haggard woman who held Lilian's hand close by, for the girl's eyes were wide with horror. If her- young life were needed she could lay it down as others had" done before, but death : migbt come slowly "in revolting form. "It will soon be over," said Mrs Rowlands gently, while her husband's colleague, who came of soldier stock, wished for their sake it had been granted him to meet the bushmen gripping the reddened steel. "You and I, pcor Lily, will rest from fear and fever in Eternal Peace to-night." Lilian answered nothing. Even then one thought which concerned the present world troubled her, and she wondered if she had been unjust to trader Lane. If so, he would never even know that she was sorry, for the canoes drew nearer. The watchers could see naked black bodies swinging over the flashing paddies, the glint of weapons, and dusky warriors packed in the stern, j ond Rowlands clenched his hands as the j craft disappeared into the forest their crews must traverse to reach the station. '•The time is very short. They will be here in 10 minute.?," he said. Depp silence followed, and the scorching sun's rays beat pitilessly upon the group of modern martyrs, who, according to their different natures, preparedto meet their fate, i It might have lasted five minutes before i a clamour filled the bush, and was succeeded by a ringing detonation. "That," said the young missionary, drawing in his breath, "is a Government rifle." Suspense is worse than distressful certainty, and Lilian felt every nerve in her quiver, while Rowlands paced the verandah until the sputter of flintlock guns was followed 'by the crash of a volley, and the clamour sudenly ceased. '^"c Bushmen are running, running for their lives," cried the younger missionary, half-choked. "Yonder! — look yonder— there's a West India detachment at their heels." Seen for a few seconds, blue-clad figures raceA aniyvar a. jxxox» ones, glade, & brief

—■-——_■ ' " •^— — . ■* / vision of running men, and sunlight oik twinkling steel ; then they disappeared, and one European came wearily to the station^ a blackened revolver dangling from hia wrist. ' His eyes were Bloodshot,'' his* face was grey, and holding fast 'by- the balustrade he lifted his shapeless, sun hat, saying : "We hardly parted but 1 bring you good news — Urmston.* is chasing your enemies. Afraid J" can't.-"- go'" any further, and this is Christmas Day l a .~ " You are very welcome," ■ said Rowlands,grasping his hand. " It, is and your companions we owe oiir lives to. Whatever may have happened we meet as -friends today." "_.'.; x * t Lane smileti faintly.,-* and glanced at Lilian, whose face grew", crimson;^uritil: she turned her head away ;- .thenvliiniped "past her into the partlyfdarkened^.ropm. " You're a surgeon, aren't you/ Rowlands?" he said. " There's a spearhead in my ami. Cut it out for me." It was done, and Lane, who breathed hard under the knife, sank into, a stupor wbieh lasted until Urmston and his men came back to' the "statibh. "Very glad to have been of" service," he said. ' r "'Wouldn't 'have been except for Lan\e, who.got speared lunning.the gauntlet .of Itanga's scouts to -'warn me. ; Sorry your friends yonder "go£ ' away ; . can't match , them at, running, and daren't; )*isk , chasing '„ them • -through - the mor.asses. jwfth ..my .few rascals.^ -Not s toq late", is "ft, "to wish you "the compliments of the day? " ' , . The anxious day was over, .and the, .stara shone dear, when Lane leaned on ±he "verandah balustrade with Lilian I' beside .""\hirn. "You- must, forget what I- said 1 that night," she said.' "I had no, right." ttr judge.y ou, and. you. shamed us all tpaday;"^-^.., •" "You. were right," said -.Lane; gravely. "But now" listen to me. I had seen too much of Africa before I met you,- and, "the world is wide. Dare you go -out- aiidface the future,^ with- a man whdrwould* coimfc it little :tb' abandon the- calling /poii- dislike, and ask nothing,; bettfei. than, fo spend -all the strength that is in 'him making a home ' for you? He is not quite penniless — dare you trust him, Lilian? " "Yes," said .the, girl., blushing. "That night- -I- did. not think, so— nq.w I know. Yes, I could £rust him — if that^man were you." It was next day when— rbecause Lane, who was not fit to travel,- had .bidden, them hasten— r Urmston and Rowlands stood bare-headed beside Gibson's trestle couch in the mildewed factory. ■ ' The - trader ' stared past them with sightless eyes, a little photograph clenched in one " clawlike hand, -and a big revolver lying' on the - coarse blanket between breast and bony knee. His gaze was towards, the. fpiest, [ Ms face stern in death, and. it was plain, ' that he had passed. keeping grim watch, a hard man to the last. » A'-It's a -woman's "picture;" said Urmstonj' * who stooped. "Somebody who jilted. Him • long ago, according to his partner's story. From what yonder sayage tells me, Row- ' lands, the dead man deceived his comradoj to save your lives for you. Must have, known he was dying when he sent him away. Perhaps he did it in honour of that, woman — who can say? — but as a plain solj dier it- seems to me it was well done, .tnd -\ that deed should open the, .Gates of Rest i 3i 3 him. This, I suppose, is, heresy? " " I dare not say," said* Rowlands humbly.' • ' -He has rebuked^ me. ' There" is much human bitterness, and one merciful Judge.' ' At least it is through his deed we live— 'i. to hope for the Peace which is so long coming in Western Africa." So the soul of the reckless, chivalroustrader went to its own place, and the man. who once denounced him quivered as .he spoke solemn words while ,two West India soldiers laid his body in the dust. -Afterwards, because four strong companies came up and smote the rebels, there was peace about Degamua for a apace. Also Rowlands married Lilian to Lane before he departed to a healthier British colony, and sped them with good wishes, saying, "We are sorry and glad to lose you, for you' would have died in. this climate, child. There are also other duties besides, bur o'wn r and one can work well in many fields." "If she still loves her profession- there is ? plenty of room for improvement in her , husband. We thank you,- sir," said' Lane.- ',