LITERATURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6068, 26 October 1887, Page 1

LITERATURE.

ALLAN QUATERMAIN.

[By H. Riser Hago-Vei*).]

Chaptbb VIII. (Continued.) Wfeen breakfast .was over wa all turned in and had a good sleep, only getting up in time for diriner; after whioh. meal we once more adjourned, together with all the available population— men. women, youths, and girls-r-to the scene of our morning's slaughter, pur objeot being to bury our own dead and get rid of the Masai by flinging them into the Tana river, which ran within fifty yards of the kraal. On reaching the spot we disturbed thousands upon thousands pf vultures and a sort of brown bush eagle, which had been flocking to the feast from miles and miles away. Often have I watched these great and repulsive birds, and marvelled afc the extraordinary speed with which they arrive on a scene of slaughter. A buck falls to your rifle, and within a minute high in the blue ether appears a speck that gradually grows into a vulture, then another, and another. I have heard -many theories advanced to account for the wonderful power >of perception j nature has given these birds. My own, { founded on a good deal of observation, is that the vultures, gifted as they are with powers of sight greater than those given ; by *the- moßt powerful glass, quarter out t the heavens among themselves, and hang- , ing in jnid.air at a vast height— probably j from two to three miles above the earthkeep watch, each pf them, over an enormous stretch of country. Presently one j of them spies food, and instantly begins to sink towards it. Thereon hiß next neighbour in the airy heights sailing leisurely through the blue gulf, at a distance perliapß of some 'miles, .qllowh bis exampio, knowing that food has been sighted. 3>ow__ he goes, and all the vultures within sight ] of Kirn follow after, and so do all those in j sight pf them. In this way the vultures j for twenty miles round can be summoned j to the feast in a, few minutes. We buried our dead in solemn silence, Good being seleoted to read the burial service over them (in the absence of Mr Mackenzie, confined to bed), as he waß j generally allowed to possesß the best voice and most impressive manner. It was melancholy in the extreme, but, as Good said, it might have been worse, for we might have had to " bury ourselves." I pointed out that this would have been a difficult feat, but I knew what he meant. Next we set to work to load an ox-waggon whioh bad been brought round from the Mission with the dead bodies pf the Masai, having firßt collected the spears, shields, and other arms. We loaded the waggon fiye times/ about fifty bodies to the load, and emptied it into the Tana. From this it was "evident that very few of the Masai could have escaped. The crocodiles must have been well fed that night. One of the last bodies we picked up was that ofthe sentry at the upper end. j asked Good how he managed to kill him, and he told me that he had crept up" much as ITmslopogaas had done, and stabbed him with his sword. 'He .groaned a good deal, but fortunately nobody heard him. As Good B{»d, it was a horrible thing to have to do, aid most unpleasantly like cold-blooded murder. Aid so with the last body that floated away down the cnrrent of the Tana ended the incident of our attack on the Masai camp. The spears and shields and other arms we took up to the Mission, where they filled an outhouse. One incident, however, I must not forget to mention. As we were returning from performing the obsequies -of bur Masai friends we passed the hollow tree where Alphonse had secreted himself in the morning. It so happened that the little man himself was with us assisting in pur unpleasant task with a far better will than he had shown where live Masai were concerned. Indeed, for each body that lie handled he found an appropriate sarcasm. Alphonse throwing dead Masai into the Tana wae a very different creature from Alphonse flying for dear life from the spear of a live Masai. He was quite merry and gay, he clapped his hands and warbled snatches of French songs as the grim dead warriorg went & splash " into the running waters tc carry a message of death and defiance tc their kindred a hundred mileß below. In short, thinking that he wanted taking down a peg, I suggested holding a courtmartial on him for his conduot m the morning. . . , According we brought him to tne tree where he had hidden, and proceeded to sit in -Judgment on him, Sir Henry explaining to him in the very best French the vn r heard-of cowardice and enormity of his conduct, more especially in .letting the oiled rag out of his mouth, whereby he nearly aroused the MasM camp with teeth-chattering and brought about the failure of our plans : ending up with a request for an explanation. j But if we expected to find Alphonse at a loss and put him to open shame we were destined to be. disappointed. He bowed and soraped and smiled, and acknowledged that his conduct might at first blush appear strange, but really it was not.inaa-n-iuoh as his teeth were chattering not •from fear—oh, dear no ! oh, certainly not ! he marvelled how the " messieurs " could think of _uch a thing— but from the. chill air of the morning. . As for the rag. m monsieur could have but tasted its evil flavour, being compounded indeed of a. mixture of stale, paraffin oil, grease, and gunpowder, monsieur himself would have spat it out. But he did nothing of the sort ; he determined to keep it there till, alas ! his stomach " revolted," and the rag was ejected in an access of involuntary g?rtTrtipgg_. " And what have you to say about getting into the hollow, tree? tasked Sir Henry, keeping his countenance with difficulty. l * But, monsieur, the explanation is easy . oh, most easy ; it was thus: I stood there by the kraal wall, and the little grey monsieur hit me in the stomaoh so that my rifle exploded, and the battle began. I- watched whilst recovering myself from monsieur-, cruel blow ; then, messieurs, I felt the heroic blood of my- grandfather boil up in my veins. The sight made me mad. I ground my teeth! Fire flashed from my eyes ! I shouted ' ' En avant ! ' and longed to slay. Before my eyes ». there rose a vision of my heroic grand-, father! In short, I was mad! I was a warrior indeed! But then in my heart I heard a small voioe : * alphonse,' said the voice, 'restain thyself, Alphonse! Give not way to this evil passion ! These men, though black, are brothers! And thou wouid-t slay them? Cruel Alphonse!' The voice was right. I knew it; I was about co perpetrate the most horrible cruelties: to wound! to massacre! to tear limb from limb ! And how restrain myself ? I looked round ; I saw the tree, I perceived the hole. 'Entomb thyself,' eaid the voice, 'and hold on tight! Thou will thus overcome temptation by main force ! ' It was bitter, just when the blood of my heroio grandfather boiled most fiercely; but I obeyed! I dragged my unwilling feet along; I entombed myself! Through the hole I watched the battle ! I shouted curses and defiance on the foe ! I noted them fall with satisfaction! Why not? I had not robbed them of their • lives. Their gore wbb not upon my head. I The blood of my heroic—" " Oh, get along with you, you little cur !" . broke out Sir Henry, with a shout of 7 laughter, and giving Alphonse a good kick jt . which sent him flying off with a rueful , face. { Ixi.the.-eyeiu_igJ-hßd.att .interview with I

Mr Mackenzie, who was. suffering a good deal from bis wounds, which Good, who was a skilful "chough unqualified doctor, was treating bim for. He told me that this ocourrence had taught him a lesson, and that, if he recovered safely, he meant to hand over the Mission to a younger man, who was already on his road to join him in his work, and return to England. " Tou see, Quatermain," he said, # " I made up my mind to it, this very morning, when we were creeping down upon those benighted savages. If we live through this and rescue Flossie alive," I said to myself, "I will go home to England; I have had enough of Bavages. Well, I ditf not think that we should live through it at the time ; but thanks be to God and you four, we have lived through it, and I mean to stick to my resolution, lest a worst thing befall us. Another such time would kill my poor wife. And besides, Quatermain, between you and me, lam well off ; it is thirty thousand pounds I am worth to-day, : and every farthing of it made by honest trade and savings in the bank at Zanzibar, for living here costs me next to nothing. So, though it will be hard to leave this place, whioh I have made to blossom like a rose in the wilderness, and harder still . to leave the people I have taught, 1 6hall 'go." " I congratulate you on your decision," ■ answered I, " for two reasons. The first is, that you owe a duty to your wife and : daughter, and more especially to the latter, < who should receive some education and i mix with girls of her own race, otherwise j she will grow up wild, shunning her kind. . j The other ip, that as sure as I jam standing Here, sooner or later the Masai will try to j avenge the slaughter inflicted on them j to-day. Two or three men are sure to ' have escaped in the confusion who will | carry the Btory back to their people, and the result will be that a great expedition j -will one day be sent against you. It j might be delayed for a year, but sooner or i later it will come. Therefore, if only for that reason, I should go. When once they have learnt that you are no longer here they may perhaps leave the place alone." * "Tou are quite right," answered the clergyman. "I will turn my back upon this place in a month. But it will be a wrench, it will be a wrench."