The Wide World Magazine. An Illustrated Monthly of True Narrative - Adventure, Travel, Customs and Sport. Volume 18 1906-1907 October-March

Page 1

This is a reproduction of a library book that was digitized by Google as part of an ongoing effort to preserve the information in books and make it universally accessible. Google books https://books.google.com

Page 2

Page 3

THE LIBRARY Penodical Collection CLASS BOOK

Page 4

. a Google Digitized by

Page 5

Page 6

THE WIDE WORLD AN ILLUSTRATED MONTHLY OF TRUE NARRATIVE ADVENTURE “TRUTH IS TRAVEL CUSTOMS STRANGER SPORT THAN FICTION * VoL. XVIII. OCTOBER 1906, MARCH Ase LTD. SOUTHAMPTON ST. 1907 STRAND

Page 7

INDEX. _——- ACCIDENTS, A CHAPTER OF Ilustrations by Lawson Wood and from a Photograph. ARCTIC, A TREASURE-HUNT IN THE... Ilustrations by C. J. Staniland, R.L., and from a Photograph. “BAD MEN,” THE SHERIFF AND THE Illustrations by George Soper and from a Photograph. BATTLESHIP, HOW HASSAN CAPTURED THE Hlustrations by E. S. Hodgson and from a Photograph. BEGGARS, THE LAND CF Il'astrations from Photographs. BICYCLES, THROUGH THE UNITED STATES ON... Mlustrations by H. Sandham and from Photographs and a Map. BIRD OF PARADISE, IN QUEST OF THE.. PAGE, E. J. Muphy. 419 « Lrank F. Lischke. 20 T. R. Porter. 464 The Late Lord Currie, G.C.B., P.C. 252 Frederic Lees. 396 Claude C. Murphey. 605 wid. E. Pratt, 71 Ilustrations from Photographs and a Sketch by Norman H. Hardy. BLOCKADE, RUNNING THE Illustrations by R. Caton Woodville and from a Photograph. “BUD” TURNER, OF MISSOURI... vee Illustrations by George Soper and L. M. Carpenter. BURGLAR, FATHER RAYMOND’S Illustrations by A. Pearse. “CANNON SCRAP,” THE is Illustrations by Chas. M, Sheldon and from Photographs. CAKABAO, HUNTING THE WILD.. Illustrations by Colbron Pearse and from Photographs. CASTAWAYS, SEARCHING FOR Ilustrations from Photographs. CATTLE, OUR DEAL IN Illustrations by R. B. M. Paxton. CATTLE-THIEF, CORNERING A Illustrations by Stanley L. Wood. CENTRAL AFRICA, ON THE FRONTIER IN... Ilustrations from Photographs. CLIMB, A RECORD Illustrations from Photographs. COMPANY OF MERCY, THE Illustrations from Photographs. CONVICT’S STORY, THE Ilustrations by H. Sandham and from Photographs. CRANK-PIT, DOWN THE see Mlustrations by A. Pearse cnd from a Painting. DAHABEEYAH, LIFE ON A... Ilustrations from Photographs, DEMON SNAKE, THE Illustrations by Sydney Aldridge and from a Facsimile. “DUBLIN” AND I Illustrations by H. Sandham, FIJI, A LADY IN FAR... Mlustrations from Photographs. FLIGHT FORK LIFE, A.. z Illustrations by H. Sandham and from "photographs FOREST, MONSTERS OF THE Ilustrations from Photographs, Ernest Brindle. 482 .. Harry M. Vernon. 226 Hugh Halifax. 138 . Paul Nixon, 3 . Hamilton Wright. 173 Frederick Sears. 295 .. Ralph A. Durand. 346 . Rowland WW. Cater. 587 .. Brevet-Mayor R. G. T. Bright, C.M.G. 475, 528 Hugh W. Tegart. 375 . BE. Alexander Powell, FR.GS. 555 Leonard Wilmore. 166 E. J. Murphy. 83 Miss Mo A, Macgregor. 582 George O. Jerrold. 94 Kalph Stock. 239 Beatrice Grimshaw. 217, 354, 425 E. H. F. Dottin, B.A. 386 Mrs. Herbert Vivian. 245

Page 8

oct @ 36 ALLFN INDEX. FROG FARMS eee we Mlustrations from Photographs. GHOST OF MUSKET FLAT, THE... Mlustrations by Norman H. Hardy and from Photographs. GIRL WITH RED IIAIR, THE Illustrations by B. E. Minns and from Photographs and a Facsimile, GOLD-SHIP, THE ROBBERY OF THE Illustrations by E. 5. Hodgson. GRAND BANKS, THE WHITE SLAVES OF THE Illustrat ons from Photographs. GRAND CANYON, DOWN THE Illustrations from Photographs. HERMIT OF PINE CREEK, THE ... Mlustrations by Norman H. Hardy. JAVA, MY TOUR THROUGH Illustrations from Photographs, “ KATHLEEN,” WHAT BEFELL THE a Mlustrations by E. S. Hodgson and from a Photograph. LADDER OF KNIVES, CLIMBING A Tllustrations from Photographs. “LAND OF ENCHANTMENT, THE” Illustrations from Photographs. LEOPARD, A FIGHT WITH A Mlustrations by Colbron Pearse and from a Photograph and a Facsimile. LEOPARD, MY FRIEND THE # Illustrations by W. B. Wollen, R.I., and from a Photograph. **LONG-LIPS,” IN THE LAND OF THE Illustrations by C. J. Staniland, R.I. MAUNGAWAHATI, THE STORY OF oe Illustrations by Harry Rowntree and from Photographs. MONGOLIA, AMONG BRIGANDS AND WILD SHEEP IN Illustrations from Photographs. MONKEYS, BESIEGED BY... Mlustrations by George Soper and from Photographs. MONTENEGRO, CHRISTMAS IN ert Illustrations by R. Caton Woodville and from Photographs. MOTOR-TRIP TO CONSTANTINOPLE, MY Mlustrations from Photographs. MUMMY HEAD, THE . .. Robert L. Jefferson, F.R.G.S. IHlvstrations by W. B, Wollen, R.l., and R. Brailey and from ‘Photographs. OATH, THE GARO'S 3 Illustrations by I. Sheldon- Williams and frdin'a a " Photograph. ODDS AND ENDS Illustrations from Photographs. “OLIVER TWIST,” AN AMERICAN Illustrations by Stanley L. Wood and from a Photograph. PEARLS, IN SEARCH OF Illustrations by Norman H, Hardy and “from a Phot POACHER’S DAUGHTER, THE Ilustrations by Chas. M. Sheldon and from Photographs. PRISON-HOUSE, OUT OF THE CZAR’S... Illustrations by R. Caton Woodville and from a Photograph and Plan. PRISON, THE WORLD'S MODEL .. Illustrations from Photographs. 6 T2O9OL Mrs. Laura B. Starr. 7. HY Leeson. « The Viscount de Soissons. Roope Williams. P. T. McGrath, . &. W. G. Wesson. one we Ernest A. Coutts. Lady Lauson, Frederick A, Talbot. Frederic W. Knocker, F.Z.S. ae AW. Hanbury, fean Cavin Waterbury. Valter H. Bone, George H. Baill. . D. W. O. Fagan. Owen Owen. R. Wortley Dodd. Reginald Wyon. C. Milligan Fox. . C. E. Gouldsbury. From all parts of the World. 100, 204, 307, 411, 516, Walter Elliott. Licut. Edward Royston. William Lord Wright. Vordka Strick, aU. Hamilton, 151, 231, 5t 437 326 88 19 159 299 508 592 265 270 338 559 187 620 58 315 256

Page 9

iv THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE ey QUEER FIXES. Iustrations by Norman H. Hardy and C. J Staniland. R.1., and from a Photograph and a Facsimile. I. Wat Happenep ON CARPENTER CREEK a a ae af we Witham McNair. TL. (Twixt Ice AND SEA a on oo ae on ‘ we J. Mayne Baltimore. I]. A PeEDESTRIAN’S PREDICAMENT oo on Bs Se ae a ou Charles Lavell. IV.) Two Stowaways —... ne we nf = sae a. Frank J. Dwyer. V. THe Mystery OF THE “ PLACER” a on Se wn es ae E. NM. Woolford. VIL An ICEBERG SHIP... ae a age 7 one ee jes eh H. Hargreaves. RACE WITH DEATH, A ay aes a 3 re its 3 or we WL AL Scott, 79 Illustrations by A. D) McCormick, R Land froma Photograph RAFT, FOUR ON A_... cnet John AL Hope. 496 Hustentions’ by. H.Sandhain and from: Photographs: ROBINSON CRUSOE’S ISLAND He er ae oy nt ee tae Harold J. Shepstone. 1 Mlustrations from Photographs, “SCISSOR-GRINDER” GUIDES, TITE VILLAGE OF ae ath fee ws Charles Candler. 546 Ilustrations from Photographs. SEA-HEDGEHOG HARVEST, THE an his is ae wee ose a. Pitcairn-Anowles. 453 Mlustrations from Photographs. SEA-LIONS, A BATTLE WITH we eee ae a5 See £35 ie Bos Loutse Weaver, 364 Mlustrations by C. J. Staniland, R.I., and from a Photograph. SECRET, STEALING A. oe, ae 225. i se see Bs ret a ase James Barr, 143 Chas. M. Sheldon and fron: Photographs. SERGEANT DALEY'S ORDEAL... ent ihre Se eta oe 7. RB. Porter. 523 Illustrations by George Soper and from a Photograph. SHARKNTWOUMEN AND Ave one he eda @&, 8 at H. P. Bailey. 600 Illustrations by J. Finnemore, R.I., and from a Photograph and Plan. “SHERLOCK HOLMES,” AN INDIAN oe eee ee ML, Adam. 402, 451, 536 Illustrations by A. Pearse and from a Photograph. SKATES, THROUGH FRIESLAND ON on eee ee A. Pitcaivn-Knowles. 283 Ilustrations from Photographs. “SLIPPERY LETTS” ... ee aS Edmund G. Kinyon. 559 Illustrations by Stanley L. Wood and ‘Roae a Photograph. “STRONG MAN,” THE ADVENTURES OF A MINIATURE ees aoe ws. Smaun Sing Hpoo. 44 Ilustrations by Paul Hardy and from Photographs. SWAMP, SIX DAYS IN A... ae fine aes Seg ee ane, 7. C. Bridges. 178 Iitusteations by A. D. McCormick and from a Photograph. SWISS MOUNTAIN, THE TRAGEDY OF A... Res oe es, ae Maurice Steinmann. 443 Ilustrations from Photographs TIGERS, A TALE OF TWO ... ES nd SS ate we ‘yee af ss Thomas H. Tripp. 211 Ilustrations by A. Pearse. TOWER, THE TRAGEDY OF THE ae we E. St. John Hart and the Rev. E. 1. C. Wilson. 63 Mlustrations by Warwick Goble and from a Photograph and Facsimiles. TURKEYS, A SPECULATION IN. ... see oe ge saa be eat a. Leander Kilpatrick, 291 Mlustrations by A. D. McCormick, R.1., and from a Photograph. UNDER-WORLD, TWO DAYS IN THE ... on ane ec ae fe eo Jeremy Broome. 4 Illustrations from Photographs and a Plan. VANISHED ISLANDS, THE ... « we WY de Vismes Kane, J.P, DL. 469 Mlustrations by W. Christian Symons and from a Photograph and Chart. WALRKUS-HUNTING, THE PERILS OF 2.00. eae nee Bo nest R. Suffling. 502 Illustrations by C. J. Staniland, R.I., and from Photographs. WIDE WORLD PICTURE TOURS. I.—Across CANADA _... ore rt oe wee see oe 564 Illustrations from Photographs and a Map. WIDE WORLD, THE: IN OTHER MAGAZINES Illustrations from Photographs and Sketches WIRE-THIEV TRACKING THE... da one ahd ans Frederick A. Talbot. 192 Mlustrationy by Chas. M. Sheldon and from Photograpi:» 2 + 306, 410, 515, 619 YUKON, TIE GUARDIANS OF THE... ” we we eee oo oa we FOR. Wall, 36 Illustrations from Photographs. GEORGE NEWNES, LTD., SOUTHAMPTON STREET AND EXETRR STRERT, STRAND. W.C.

Page 10

Digitized by Google

Page 11

ED OVER HIS MOUTH.” >. AS IMMEDIATELY CLAF ND W. “A BIG HA (SEE PAGE 9.)

Page 12

THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XVIII By Paut NIxon, LATE oF WESLEYAN UNIVERSITY, CONNECTICUT, U.S.A. OCTOBER, 1906. No. 103. rane Bante vals a Mr. Nixon is now a Rhodes Scholar at Balliol College, Oxford, and here narrates an exciting story dealing with a curious custom which is carried out annually at Wesleyan University, Connecticut. The desperate struggle described—-waged practically for a whole year between the “Freshmen” and the ‘Sophomores ’’—shows to what trouble and expense American students will go to secure victory for their side, no matter what the issue. HERE’S no way round it, you fellows. We've got to get our men in that shed fo-night. The i} Sophs are all at sea, and the very ~— fact that they haven’t got the shadow of an idea about the location of the gun will make them roam around like Arguses during the next two nights trying to spot us as we go to it. Even to-night we shall have enough trouble dodging their scouts, and if we wait till to- morrow their whole class will be on our trail at every step we take. that their main chance of keeping us from firing the cannon lies in finding out where it is by tracking us to it, and every hour nearer 12 p.m. on the 21st of February the sharper-eyed they'll be. Getting our ten men in the shed by the gun is the vital point of the whole business. Why, we should spoil ourselves with the college if we lost the scrap by taking chances just to save ourselves twenty-four hours of misery in Vol. xviii —t. They can’t help realizing: that shed, after fooling them for three months. We want to win, but we stand a good chance of not doing so if we wait and let the Sophomores get screwed up to the point of turning out ev masse to dog us.” A thoughtful silence on the part of two other members of the “ Freshmen Cannon Committee ” —broken only by the scampering of the rats, whose domain under the eaves of “Doc” Rankin’s machine shop had been invaded by the triumvirate—greeted this whispered outburst of mine. “Well, Nick,” murmured Jack Robbins, slowly, “I don’t know but that you're right. What do you say about it, Hen?” “T guess we’ve got to heave out to-night,” croaked Henry Grant, the third conspirator. “Jee-rusalem! I can feel my blood freezing already in this wretched ice-plant, and the thought of ten of you fellows listening for fifty hours to old Boreas howling through the crevices

Page 13

4 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. in that eight-by-ten-foot shed almost makes me give up the ghost.” “Oh, you needn't concern yourself about us,” I put in. “Just take care of the college end of the scheme, and be sure not to hurt yourself with that revolver. It’s a signal we want, remember, not a suicide. Now I'll interview MR, JACK ROBBINS, From a Photo. by Randall. THE MBMMERS OF THE “* the rest of the ten and tell them we've got to go on the warpath to-night. Jack, you see Matthews and get him to leave his back-door open, so that we can pass into the shed through the kitchen. Another meeting at five o’clock this afternoon, remember ! ” With these words, after knocking a few square inches of scalp off my head by contact, in the darkness, with certain inconsiderate rafters, I managed to find the trap-door, which I carefully raised. Having listened for a few moments, I descended the ladder to the disused room above the shop. Then, more confi- dently, I walked downstairs, trying to whistle cheerily as I picked up a hammer from the bench and strode across the athletic field to my den in North College— the dormitory. Making some- what more suc- cessful attempts at nonchalance, my friends Jack and THF “povctas ¢ Hen also sallied LONG STRUGGLE DET From a) MR. PAUL NIXON, THR AUTHOR, From a Photo. by Randall. THIS PIKCE OF OKDNANCK, forth, and the icy garret was left in the undis- turbed possession of its four-footed occupants. One of the time-hallowed institutions of Wesleyan University, Connecticut, U.S.A., the scene of this myste- rious confab, is the annual “ can- non scrap” between the two lower MR. HAKRY GRANT. From a Photo. by Randall. FRESHMEN CANNON COMMITTER.” classes. Between 12 and 12.45 o'clock on the night of February 21st the Freshmen endea- vour to bring on to the college Campus an old-fashioned piece of ordnance known as the “Douglas Gun.” If they succeed in so doing, and in holding it there for fifteen minutes, un- spiked and still mounted on its wheels, they are graciously permitted by the upper-classmen to fire it as the reward of victory. If for any reason the gun cannot be rushed on to the Campus, or, once there, it is spiked, dismounted, or pushed off within fifteen minutes, the Sophomores are declared the win- ners. Originally a contest wherein brute strength was the principal factor, the “cannon scrap” has nowa- days become a struggle which de- mands months of preliminary stra- tegy, considerable expense, and great patience and perse- verance. A brass field-piece weighing, with its SHMEN " FOR POSSESSION OF [Photo.

Page 14

THE carriage, about five hundred pounds, this “ Dou- glas Gun” belongs to the proprietor of a pump factory in the city. After certain financial trans- actions with the owners the Freshmen have the privilege of removing it at any time from the works and of doing what they please with it till after the contest. So long as the cannon remains within the wall which surrounds the dozen or so buildings comprising the works it is, by solemn compact, immune from the Sopho- mores, but once’ outside it is open to attack ; and if at any time after its removal the gun is captured and kept by their antagonists the Freshmen, of course, are defeated. The moment of its removal, therefore, is of vast importance to both classes, and day and night after the opening of the college year the Sophomores keep a man concealed near the single entrance to the works to track the cannon to its destination when it is brought out. But getting it out undetected is onlya fraction of the struggle ; the hardest part lies in placing it in some house or barn from which it can be rushed on to the Campus unexpectedly, for in such a contest a dozen men can effectually block its progress by overturning it. The location of the Campus favours the Sophomores. Situated a little below the crest of a long, gently sloping hill, the five buildings composing “College Row” face east towards the large, rectangular, tree-dotted green upon which the gun must be dragged. Strects lie to the front and at the left of the Campus, while at its right is the estate of the President. Be- hind the buildings is the athletic field, shut off from the street in its rear by a fifteen-foot fence; and between the field and the Row at the north and south are the Gymnasium and Observatory respectively. The latter edifice is perched on an irregular elevation, and faces the street pass- ing by the south side of the Campus, while next to it, farther from the Row, is the house of the omniscient janitor of the institution, “Doc” Rankin. Next to “Doc’s” is the small house belonging to the Mr. Matthews alluded to in the meeting. Barns and outhouses adjoin the house, but only descents and elevations and devious windings among sheds impede one’s progress to the Campus, some two hundred yards distant. The year tgor—when Harry Grant, Jack Robbins, and I constituted the ‘“ Freshmen Cannon Committee ”—-had been a sorry one for the Sophs. The Freshmen Class president, realizing the necessity of secrecy, had privately chosen eight of his classmen, who secretly selected three men to act as the final com- mittee, and only to these eight was the composition of the real committee known. “CANNON SCRAP.” 5 The first feat—- getting the gun out of the works — had been happily accomplished early in October. ‘ One gloomy evening at the supper-hour a large wagon, belonging to one of the express- men of the city, had entered the gateway of the works carrying a load of pump apparatus, pre- sumably from the freight depot ; but in reality two six-footer freshmen from Maine, well disguised, were the drivers. Once within the gate, which none but employés could enter, they unloaded the vehicle and, with the pro- prietor’s aid, placed the cannon in pieces in the bottom of the wagon, whose high sides screened it from anyone below, and carelessly covered it with a horse-blanket. ‘Three or four minutes later the “empty” cart was driven by the “expressmen ” past the unsuspicious Sophomore guard, who was more concerned just then in looking for his relieving watch than for cannons. One of these Freshmen drivers, by the way, was an invaluable asset to us. A friend of his was an official in the State insane asylum, situ- ated a couple of miles outside the city, and from this ally he received permission to use for the hiding-place of the gun a certain inner, private room of the institution. One of the inmates, moreover, was delighted with the task of manufacturing—for some purpose unknown to him—a steel band which was to be bolted around the touch-hole of the gun in order that the rat-tail fites—which in the hands of the Sophomores had done execution in previous years as spikes—might be baffled. It was at this stage that the real troubles of the committee began. How were we to bring that cannon upon the Campus on the night of the 21st, guarded as the ground would be by wires stretched between the trees, by barri- cades, and by pugnacious ‘“Sophs” provided with Roman candles and red fire to terrify any horses used to drag the gun along the neigh- bouring streets? Every method of transport from balloon to automobile was considered, and it was finally decided that the motive power must be human, that the cannon must be brought down-hill (that is, from the west), and that when the time came for it to be dragged on to the Campus it must be near at hand, although in former years it had been kept out in the country. Furthermore, to draw Sophomore attention away from the vicinity of the college, a great iron-bound box loaded with five hundred- weight of stone was to be made in the works, and this box was to be moved therefrom and shipped about the State with just enough secrecy to convince the vigilant Sophs that in it was the all-important cannon. And, lastly, another “fake” gun was to-be prepared, and was to be

Page 15

6 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. brought on the Campus /rs¢ on the night of the scrap, so that the Sophs, on discovering the fraud, might jump to the conclusion that the real cannon would follow next. At twelve o’clock, then, this “fake,” brought by a team along the road to the south of the college, was to be rushed on to the Campus at the south-west corner. During the excitement over its arrival the box—which was meanwhile to have ended its travels at a house three miles from the city—was to be brought by a wagon to the north-east corner, and the main body of Fresh- men were to rush tumultuously down to that point and work like coal-heavers to get the box on to the Campus and hold it there. At 12.15 —by which time ~ it was expected that the Sopho- more class would be fighting des- perately to keep the long-sus- pected box off the Campus— the real cannon, drawn by ten picked men, was to make its exit from Matthews’s barn, wind through “ Doc” Rankin’s _ back- yard, down over the Observatory hill, across the private road back of the Row, and so between the library and the chapel on to the green. All these intri- cate plans had prospered up to the time of the meeting. The box had been “ spotted ” as being the receptacle of the cannon, but the Soph who had seen it taken from the works had been suddenly overpowered by a number of sturdy Freshmen, and was ignorant of its destination. The real cannon had been carried from the asylum a month before, at dead of night, in a wagon with muffled wheels to a spot near Matthews’s barn, and had then been taken piecemeal across the fields and stored in the pigeon-loft, where it lay under a heap of refuse. (Mr. Matthews’s pigeons were generally known to be valuable, and barn and loft were “THE SOPH WHO HAD SEEN IT TAKEN FROM THE WORKS HAD BEEN SUDDENLY OVERPOWERED.” always padlocked.) The Sophs’ only hope, therefore, lay in guarding the Campus or in detecting the Freshmen detailed to bring in the gun. “How about it, Jack ? Is it all right with Matthews?” asked Hen, in his melodramatic whisper. “Yes, he’s on. We'll get into that shed to-night, never fear. Say, Nick, have you seen the rest of the fellows and told ’em to-night’s the time they’ve got to practise all the strategy they ever learnt?” “Yes,” I replied. “ But this beastly snow is going to make matters uncomfortable. Old Pat heaved a five horse-power sigh when I told him he’d have to take ten hours, if ne- cessary, getting into the place; he doesn’t relish crawling snake- fashion all over the snow of the country trying to land in a shed a minute’s walk from here. But have you got your side of the plan correct, Hen? Just re- hearse and let me see.” “Here goes,” said Hen, after a brief protest. “When the time comes for you two fellows and the eight others tostart I’m going to send several couples of Fresh- men out into the country for the Sophs to follow while you sneak away. Then to-morrow I send out eight men sepa- rately to the farmhouse where the box is located. I also station a man provided with twelve hours’ grub up among the rafters of South College, over the room where the Sophs hold their meet- ings, so as to find out what they know and what their signals are going to be. The rest of the class—minus eight detailed to bring in the first ‘fake’ and six more provided with pincers to cut the wires across the roads—are to gather in the dormitory and wait until my three revolver

Page 16

THE shots announce the arrival of the box. We're going to get up a fight over the box until you fellows bring up the real thing, and then we’re going to melt away gradually and help you keep the gun on the Campus.. ‘here, now ; if you children have learned your lesson as well, I shall be surprised !” “Very nice recitation, my little man!” I laughed. ‘“ Remember that Matthews will carry any necessary messages between us, and be sure he gets quiet horses for the wagon the box comes in. And be careful that not a member of the class outside the committee of eight knows that the box isn’t the real thing till the last minute, for it would leak out somehow or other. Don’t forget to tell the eight to call each other, when they’re scrapping over the box, by the names of the men who are with the cannon, so that the Sophs’ll be cocksure they’ve got the real gun.” There are eight of us in all right, anyway. Gadzooks! I won- der what's become of Nick and Jim Sheldon ?” huskily murmured Jack to the seven hard-looking, brawny young football-players who crouched around the little oil-stove which raised the temperature of Mr. Matthews's lean-to shed to about fifty degrees Fahrenheit, on the morning of February 2oth. “Probably nabbed,” rejoined another of the party. “ The Sophs tried to collar Jake and me, but we thought better of it and lit out. Whew! I’m cold! Two hours in the snow under the off-side of a fence near which a couple of Sophs were discussing my whereabouts hasn’t improved my disposition, either. Why don’t you say something, Pat? Crack one of your antique jokes or give us an Irish grin. We'll be grateful for anything now.” “Indeed !” quoth Pat, with a shiver. “Two hours in a snow-bank! And d’ye think you're the only martyr aboard? I’ve had a personal “pat,” ONE acquaintance with every fence in the county, . and you can take my word that hurdling barbed wire ones with Sophs after you isn’t conducive to wit. A man that works like a galley-slave for six hours trying to get into such a miserable hole as this ought to be left in peace. Hullo! Who’s that coming into the house ?” Consternation was visible on the faces of all, and Pat nearly fainted in a noble effort to hold his breath. Coming straight toward the shed . through the adjoining kitchen, undeterred by the orders and threats of their ally, Mrs. ef OF THE AUTHOR'S COMPANIONS IN THE FINAL FIGHT FOR THE GUN, From a Photo. by Randall. “CANNON SCRAP.” 7 Matthews, the concealed Freshmen heard heavy footsteps; and before the group about the oil-stove could determine on a plan of action the figure of a storeman, clad in his regi- mentals, stood in the doorway looking down on the terror-stricken conspirators. Two Freshmen had hurriedly risen to seize the invader, preparatory to gagging him and bribing him to secrecy, when the glasses, moustache, and slouch hat of the destined victim were removed and my own gratified countenance beamed forth. “ Merry Christmas, boys !” I cried, joyfully. A whispered chorus of amazement answered this greeting, and the further transformation effected in my appearance by the laying aside of my flour-covered reefer, heavy driving-gloves, pencil, and order-book. “What in the name of all that’s righteous do you mean by scaring us within an inch of our lives?” demanded Jack, irritably. “Why, it was this way,” I an- swered. ‘“ When you fellows started out last night I noticed that an escort of Sophs lionoured each of you as you left North College, and I knew I could survive the depri- vation of their company all right. So I made arrangements with a junior— Belton by name—to come to my room rigged out in his best bib and tucker. I joined him ar- ranged ditto, the idea being that the Sophs would think we were only going out calling and so leave us alone. Of course, I knew they had spies about the streets, but I thought my chance of escape would be better if I could leave college without their chaperonage. They didn’t bite, though. Belton says my hat wasn’t respectable enough; it never did look the same after Randolph sat on it! Well, a couple of them followed us, and we were forced to call on Miss Stone in hopes they’d leave us there. About an hour later we came out, and up popped our friends again. Our trick was no use, evidently, so we started to shake them off, rushing all over the city. By the time we had lost them it was twelve o’clock, and we had just started back here by a circuitous route through backyards when a wretched dog with a bark like a machine-gun put three other Sophs patrolling the street on to our trail. We sauntered by them as if we were merely out for an airing, but they didn’t think the time of night suitable for that, and kept within a-few yards of us all the

Page 17

8 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. MERRY CHRISTMAS, BOYS !" 1 CRIED, JOYFULLY. way up the railroad track, over Northside brook and through all the fields. ‘Those over- coats of ours were nuisances. About two o'clock we gave it up and went back to North College, got into a room together, and planned a new campaign while the Sophs did war-dances of delight at the windows and door. Finally, with another junior’s aid, we hit on the scheme that scared you so. Belton was to go early this morning to Doble’s store and get one of their covered vans to carry a barrel of flour to Dr. Knight’s at 9.30 a.m. I was to be at the doctor’s at the same time, having a tooth attended to. Then I was to change clothes with one of the two men who brought the barrel into the house and use the false moustache Belton got to complete the resemblance. The real driver was to stay in the house for awhile until we had driven to this place with a barrel, and if nobody was watching, I was to stay here. Everything worked beautifully. This morning I had an awful toothache which prevented me from more than nibbling at my breakfast. That last bluff must have done the trick, for the fellows are acquainted with my usual appetite and were convinced that when anything impaired it I was seriously ill. In fact, I believe it was a Soph who finally ferswaded me to go to Dr. Knight's! They were so unsuspicious that only one rather abstracted escort was assigned me. He stayed across the street and waited while I went in—he’s probably waiting yet! ‘That's all. Well, how is everybody? By the way, I told Tom not to try to get in, since he couldn’t manage it last night. I didn’t want to take too many chances so late in the game.” The rest of the day, the night, and the following morning passed slowly for our party of half-frozen, entirely cramped young Freshmen wedged tightly in the little shed. Late in the afternoon of the 21st, Jack and I decided that it was time to prepare the cannon for action, ‘but

Page 18

THE the question was how to get unperceived into the barn where it lay, twenty yards from the shed. Mrs. Matthews was finally drafted into service, one of her dresses gracing my rather unsylph- like figure, while a shawl pinned over my head veiled the delicate beauty of my features. Thereupon the new Mrs. M—— sallied forth into the yard with a clothes-basket, and a moment later Jack, arrayed in Mr. Matthews’s distinctive garments, joined her, carrying a pail of grain and a pan of water for the pigeons. A. few covert glances were cast about the neigh® bourhood as the “lady” hung some clothes on, the line, and then she followed her ‘“ husband ” into the barn to see the birds fed. The big, sliding door was partly closed, while through the trap-door the pieces of the cannon were brought one by one down below and put together, the whole being harnessed with a stout rope and the wheels and muzzle wrapped in burlap. When the task was almost completed Jack, by way of precaution, put his eye to a knot-hole in the door, which faced toward the street. He jumped back with a gurgle of excitement. “Holy Moses!” he cried, “Nick Baker is standing on the sidewalk eyeing the barn! Let me look again. Whew! He’s coming into the yard !” Sure enough he was. As he was strolling past the house his curiosity had been aroused by an unfortunate clash of metal, and, as a dutiful Sophomore, he felt called upon to explore. Right up to the barn he came, pushed the sliding door further open, and entered. His surprise at Leing greeted rap- turously by an athletic man and tough-looking “woman” he had no chance to express, for a big, dirty hand was immediately clapped over his mouth and kept there till a burlap gay re- placed it. Then, bound hand and foot, he was gently laid on a stack of hay, covered with horse blankets, and left to meditate on the mis- fortune of being a Sophomore. A little later, when darkness came on, he was carried into the shed and given the opportunity to see how the Freshmen did things. Slowly the hours wore on toward midnight. The time for joking was past. Even Pat’s Irish humour was subdued by the thought of the Possibility of the cannon’s being upset before it reached the Campus. Jack, “end” on the "Varsity football team, had been appointed captain of the gun, and proceeded to assign us our positions on the rope and by the wheels. Two men, one holding each end of a long rope, were to rush at top speed ahead of the gun, and clear the way by sweeping any possible oppo- nents off their feet. Jake and Randolph were Vol. xviii. —2. “CANNON SCRAP.” 9 to hold up the heavy tail-piece or trail, and right the cannon as it bounded over the little hills, valleys, and snowdrifts between barn and Campus. Twelve o'clock sounded from the college chapel, and all the electric lights about the building and neighbouring streets were put out, in accordance with the Freshmen committee’s agreement with the city lighting department—an agreement somewhat forced, perhaps, by the Freshmen’s candid admission that otherwise the lamps would be smashed. Twelve-one, twelve-two; twelve-three, twelve- four, twelve-five! Still no noise came from the Campus except the murmurs of the throng of excited townspeople who had flocked in hundreds to see the fray. ‘I'welve-six came, and all of us in the shed began to look worried, for the first “fake” should have arrived precisely at midnight. Twelve-seven! Ah! down the street in front of the house came a pung (a wagon fitted with sled-runners for winter use), dashing madly over the snow, while a Sophomore scout on horse- back galloped alongside, shouting the alarm and trying to see what the little band of Freshmen inside concealed. Everyone’s face lit up with relief. Down to the corner of the Campus galloped the horses, there to be stopped by the Roman candles and barricades and a guard of twenty Sophs. “Fake!” “Fake!” broke forth high above the din. Then there came another resounding, many-throated yell, this time from the north-east corner. Out rang three pistol-shots —the signal for the mass of Freshmen in North College to charge for the box which a pair of powerful horses had dragged past the outermost barricade. “Now, boys!” whispered Jack. Silently, stripped for the battle, the nine of us glided from the shed to the barn, unseen by the mounted guardsmen of the Sophs, who kept dashing wildly round the roads surrounding the college. Deliberately the gun was rolled out, every crackle of the frozen snow sounding like thunder to its nervous crew. Round behind the barn into Doc Rankin’s yard we took it, pausing for a moment in front of his cattle shed, then slowly we hauled it up the grade, winding in and out among the trees to the top of Observa- tory hill. Meanwhile the noise from the north- east grew louder every second. “Now, Aard, fellows!” urged Jack, and while the two men with the rope yanked one forlorn Soph bodily out of its path the gun was rushed madly down the incline over the terrace to the private road behind the buildings, its

Page 19

To THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. huge trail-piece swinging Randolph and Jake skyward as it struck the abrupt declivity on a slant. But they held on desperately, and swaying fearfully, the cannon regained its equilibrium and sped between the buildings over the encircling walk on to the broad expanse of the Campus. Fifteen yards inside it was stopped by the reserve force of Sophomores from the middle FOR FIFTEEN MINUTES THE K of the Campus, but grasping wheels and body tenaciously nine Freshmen mentally vowed to be torn limb from limb rather than suffer it to be moved. The worst was over, however. The kicks, pummellings, and occasional jabs from tiles, which slipped from the steel-pro- tected touch-hole, were things of joy to us com- pared with the sensations we had experienced at the moment when the gun seemed about to upset before reaching the Campus. Gradually the Freshmen and most of the deluded Sophs who had been fighting over the “fake” box arrived on the scene and joined the melée. For fifteen minutes the knocks, pokes, kicks, and prods lasted; then the upper classmen, thrusting aside the panting combatants, announced that the Freshmen had won the scrap. Jubilant yells and taunts saluted the abashed Sophomores as they melted away in chagrin, and as the long-tortured cannon woke the city with its crashing report our cup of joy overflowed.

Page 20

eet ane ARforsqan Very few people who have read “ Robinson Crusoe” know anything about Juan Fernandez,- the lonely isle whereon Alexander Selkirk—-the original of Defoe’s hero—passed his years of exile. Here is an account of the island and its eventful history, with a set of striking photographs showing various points mentioned in the story. fi F you ask five persons out of every | ten who have read the adventures 1 of Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday where Crusoe’s island is they ~ will tell you that it lies off the coast of Chili, in the Pacific Ocean, and that its real name is Juan Fernandez. ‘The better-informed will also add that it was the adventures of Alexander Selkirk, a Scotch mariner, on this lonely island, that led Defoe to weave that famous romancé which has made his name a household word. But here their knowledge of Juan Fernandez ends. If you ventured to state that Selkirk was by no means the first sailor, or even the last, to “crusoe”—if one may use such a term as defining solitary habitation—in the island, they will stare in astonishment. The fact is that the true history of Juan Fernandez is. not at all well known to the reading public, and it is the object of this article to give not only a true account of the varying fortunes of the island and those who have lived upon it, but also to describe Robinson Crusoe’s domain as it appears to-day. Juan Fernandez is part of the archipelago of that name, discovered by that hardy Spanish sailor, Juan Fernandez, so far back as 1563. The group consists of two islands and an islet, named respectively Mas-d-Tierra, Mas-a-Firera, and Santa Clara. The first is Crusoe’s isle, invariably referred to as Juan Fernandez. It is situated about four hundred and fifty miles from the coast of Chili, but quite a hundred miles nearer to the mainland than Mas-a- Firera. Fernandez reported his “find” to his Govern- ment, and promptly obtained a grant of the group. He at once settled down on Mas-a- ‘Tierra (Juan Fernandez), telling his captains that he would end his days there. He cer- tainly lived there for a time, but soon grew weary of the lonely life, and it was not long before he abandoned his kingdom, leaving be- hind him as a gift to posterity a herd of goats and pigs. When next the curtain lifts the island appears as the shelter of the bold buccaneers. It lay conveniently near to the Spanish settlements, for on Spain the buccaneers made war with savage ferocity. These were the heroic days of filibustering, the days of Lolonnois the cruel,

Page 21

12 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Montbars the exterminator, Sir Henry Morgan, pirate and knight, Sharpe and Dampier. They took their ships to the island to obtain water, and also to replenish them with fresh meat. For instance, after Sharpe’s unsuccessful attempt to surprise La Serena he and his men anchored off Juan Fernandez. He tells us that he found the shore so thickly covered with seals that he had to shoot a number of them before a landing could be effected. The goats had evidently multi- but it is surmised that they were killed by the Spaniards, who occasionally visited the island in those days. In any case records show that Admiral De Witt left three men on this lonely island in the Pacific. In 1681, when that sturdy old buccaneer, Dampier, visited the island he was told by his pilot that, many years before, a ship had been cast away on the rocks of Juan Fernandez, and that one man only escaped, who lived alone Front a} CUMBERLAND COVE, THE ONLY LA plied, for his sailors signalized Christmas Day by shooting sixty. As for pigs, besides those slaughtered for present needs, a hundred were salted down. ‘The waters were alive with fish, so that a sailor with a bare hook caught in an hour or two enough for all the crew. But what will interest readers most will be an account of those who have lived a solitary existence upon the island. Here I may say at once that these Crusoes are fairly numerous. According to Chilian records—for the islands belong to Chili—the first known Crusoes were a party of three sailors, three gunners, in fact, from the Dutch Admiral De Witt’s fleet. They were left upon the island at their own request some eighty years before Selkirk set foot upon it. Their Admiral gave them a large quantity of provisions, a few cooking utensils, guns and ammunition. How long they remained and what in time became of them are alike unknown, there for five years, when a vessel hove in sight which took him back to Chili, where he died some years later. If this story is true, the man’s record, so far as length of stay on the island is concerned, is greater than that of Selkirk, for the latter only remained on the island four years and four months. Oddly enough, it was Dampier who supplied the next tenant for Juan Fernandez. Whilst he and his men loitered about the island there appeared on the horizon the white canvas of a Spanish man-of-war bent on engaging and capturing the buccaneer who had wrought such havoc among Spanish shipping. The Englishmen had to pack off in such a hurry, that one William, a Mosquito Indian, who had strayed off to hunt the wild goats of the place, was left behind. The Spaniards landed and found tokens of his presence. ‘Time after time they endeavoured to get close to him, but always the Mosquito

Page 22

ROBINSON CRUSOE’S ISLAND. 13 Indian eluded them. His belongings consisted only of his clothes, a knife, a gun, and some powder and shot. Naturally his ammunition was soon expended and he was forced to subsist on seal-flesh, a diet that he appears to have ‘loathed. But necessity, as ever, brought inven- tion to birth. He converted his knife into a saw, andwith this divided his gun-barrel int6 several pieces. With one of these and his gun- flint he managed to kindle a fire, and after a prodigious deal of heating and hammering, con- trived to turn the rest of his steel into lance- heads and hooks, not to speak of a long hunting- knife. The lines for his hooks were supplied by strips of seal-skin; and, thus equipped, he kept his larder fairly full of fish, sea- fowl, and goat’s flesh. Being an Indian he was not exacting about clothes. A waist- band of seal-skin satisfied him very well. Seal-skin also he used for bedding and as a lining to his hut. And thus he lived, un- molested and unvisited, for three years two months and eleven days, until Dampier, who had in the meantime cheated the Spaniards many a time, came once more to Juan Fernandez and took his old servant on board. It was only three years later, namely, in 1687, that the island became again inhabited. On this occasion it was a party of five sailors from Captain Davis's ship who were put on land here at their own request. They had gambled away their last penny, and were apparently tired of a world where gambling is impossible without either money or credit. Their cap- tain, it appears, consented to their Tequest very readily and left four negro boys with them. He also equipped them with cooking uten- sils, tools, guns, powder, shot, ropes, and a small cannon. The men brought their own dice, and having divided the territory into lots, gambled away their kingdoms to each other with great good humour. whole they had a fairly enjoyable time. Their boys worked well and sowed all kinds of seeds, caught fish for them, and hunted the goats when the larder was low. They remained on the island three years and two months. They do not appear then to have been tired of their banishment, but rather annoyed at the occa- sional descents the Spaniards made upon the island. Twice the Spaniards tried hard to capture them, but they succeeded in evading them by hiding in the woods. From a) On the The real hero of Juan Fernandez, of course, is Alexander Selkirk, who was put ashore on the island some fourteen years after the event described, or in 1704. It was at his own request that he landed, for Selkirk had a grievance against his captain, and the two did not get on very well together. Nevertheless, the self-marooned man’s heart failed him when he saw the ship about to leave the bay, and he fell on his knees and begged his captain to take him on board again. But a deaf ear was turned to all his-entreaties, and the vessel sailed away. It was lucky for him, too, that he was thus left behind, for the ship in which he came was shortly afterwards captured by the Spaniards. Selkirk was by no means ill-provided for. He had a fair stock of clothes and boots, a tolerable amount of ammunition, a musket, a kettie, some pounds of tobacco, a Bible and other books, and a few mathematical instruments. He had vegetables, too—turnips, parsnips, cabbages, watercress, and parsley. Yet it took Selkirk eight months to reconcile himself in any degree GIANT-LEAVED “ UMBRELLA PLANTS.” [Photo. to his lot, and when he did finally settle’down he did not find life in his island kingdom so easy or so enjoyable as some writers have led us to believe. Selkirk has told us that he found it extremely difficult at first to get any sleep owing to the multitudes of rats that swarmed over the island. ‘They ate holes in his clothing and nibbled his toes whenever he laid down to rest. Inthe end he kept the vermin down by means of a band of tame cats. He grew by practice so fleet of foot as to keep his larder supplied with goats’ flesh long after his ammunition failed.

Page 23

14 THE The pimento tree, which flourishes on the island, supplied him not only with pepper, but with candles and sweet-smelling firewood as well. He reared a large number of kids to insure plenty of food in case illness interfered with his hunting—and, indeed, he was once laid up for almost a fortnight by tumbling over a precipice while pursuing a goat. He beguiled his idle moments by teaching his kids and cats any number of tricks. Clothes he provided out of goat-skins ; but could not manage to make new shoes, so he had to go barefooted wh.n his old ones were worn out. During his long abode on the island he saw many ships pass, Lut of these only two put in to the shore. From them some Spaniards landed, who, perceiving Selkirk, gave chase. By this time, however, he had learnt to run down a goat, and so had no difficulty in keeping his visitors at a safe dis- tance. This was the only occasion on which the outer world invaded his solitude until the arrival of the ship in which he left Juan Fer- nandez for ever, after a stay of four years and four months. Selkirk was rescued from his lonely king@om by Captain Rogers, who described him as “a man dressed in goats’ skins, and wilder in appearance than the goats themselves.” With him the glory of Juan Fernandez passed into fiction, and lives for ever in Defoe’s pages. On his return to England Selkirk met Defoe and told him of his adventures. They are supposed to have met at the Cock and Bottle Tavern in Bristol. But Juan Fernandez had other castaways besides Selkirk and those already referred to. Defoe’s hero had not left his little kingdom ten years before it was occupied by four deserters from an English ship; but they remained two months only. Again, in 1720, the Speedwell was wrecked off its shores, and her crew re- mained there some months, until they built a boat in which they departed, leaving behind them a colony of eleven white men, thirteen blacks, and some Indians. But these were sup- posed to have surrendered to, or been massacred by, the Spaniards, for two years after, when the island was again visited, no trace remained of them. The only people who ever seemed to have enjoyed their stay on the island were the members of Lord Anson's expedition in 1741. They had all been suffering terribly from scurvy, and the green food they found there afforded them welcome relief. Lord Anson stayed on the island for three months until his crews had thoroughly recruited. His chaplain has handed down to us an interesting description of the island as he found it at that time. There were WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. plenty of goats there, and fish to be had in abundance, while radishes and turnips were growing wild in the sheltered valleys. Before they left Anson planted a number of fruit-stones, which soon added to the useful vegetation. The first goat that was killed by Anson’s men had its ears slit. Now it is well known that Selkirk, when he caught more goats than he wanted, sometimes marked their ears and let them go. Anson’s chaplain contends that this was one of the very guats which had passed through Selkirk’s hands. He describes it as “an animal of a most venerable aspect, dignified with an exceedingly majestic beard, and with many other symptoms of antiquity.” Other goats marked in the same manner were also detected among the herds that roamed over the island. Anson’s chaplain was the first to apprise the world of a wonderful singing-bird that is to be seen in this island. ‘Its wild, various, and irregular notes enchant the ear,” he writes, “and make the woods resound with melody. This untutored chorister is somewhat less in size than the goldfinch, its plumage beautifully intermixed with red and other vivid colours, and the golden crown upon its head so bright and glowing when seen in the full light of the sun that it surpasses all description. These little birds are far from being uncommon or unfamiliar, for they perched upon the branches of the myrtle trees so near us, and sang so cheerfully, as if they had been conscious we were strangers, and came to give us welcome.” Anson had hardly left the little island king- dom before the Chilian and Peruvian Govern- ments sent ships there with a host of fierce dogs. ‘They left them upon the enchanted spot with the hope that they would succeed in exter- minating the goats, and thus deprive hostile war- ships and pirates of a possible means of pro- visioning. But the plan proved a failure. ‘The goats easily outwitted the dogs, who could not drive them off the steep precipices. True, they killed a large number of kids, but otherwise did little damage. ‘Their principal food appears to have been seal-flesh, and the Spanish sailor Ullva, who came to the island in 1743, tells how he watched the dogs kill the young seals the moment they came ashore, and greedily devour them. Ullva urged his Government to fortify the island and convert it into a penal settlement. But Spain did not think much of the suggestion until it was rumoured that England was seriously thinking of annexing the island on account of Anson's report. Their hands being forced, the Spanish authorities occupied the island in 1750 with a strong military force and built a fort

Page 24

ROBINSON CRUSOE’S ISLAND. 15 From a) commanding the harbour. This, however, was destroyed in the following year by an earthquake, and was rebuilt farther inland. At this time the post of governor of the island was looked upon as one of the plums of the Spanish services. Certainly, the salary was not large, less, in fact, than two hundred pounds a year. But money THE STREAM FROM WHICH SELKIRK ONTAINED HIS WATER SUPPLY. ‘cruelty may still be found there. was plentifully sup- plied for improve- ments in the island, which the governors never appear to have carried out. More- over, all vessels which put in for water and provisions had to dole out practically what the governor cared to charge for the accommodation. But Spain did not enjoy her possession long before the Chilians took it away from her and again turned the island into a penal settle- ment, and it was used as such for some twenty years during the early part of last century. Traces of — Chilian One cliff is excavated to a distance of several hundred feet, and we may pursue a long, winding passage ,until we come to the dark, dripping cells where Chilian convicts were confined. Beneath these were other cells, some only five feet high and .six feet long—living graves where the light never (Photo, From a) THE OLD FORT BUILT BY THE SPANIAKDS. [Phere

Page 25

16 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. some whaling vessels put in at the island for water. The captains were pounced upon the moment they came ashore and were threat- ened with instant death unless they agreed to carry the escaped prisoners back to the mainland, which they did. Very few of the fugitives were subsequently captured. Since 1835 the Chilian Government has leased the island to private speculators. In 1868 it was purchased by Robert Wehrdan, a German engineer, who established a small but thriving colony there. In the 4 : same year H.M.S. Zofase THE ENTKANCE TO THE TERRIDLE UNDERGKOUND CELLS WiIFRE THE CIILIAN CONVICT: visited Juan Fernandez pure) bias oes" and erected a tablet to penetrated. Instead of subduing the prisoners the memory of Alexander Selkirk. In 1877 the cruelties practised upon them seem to have the island was again let to an eccentric Swiss, had the opposite effect. ‘They frequently rose in a body against their guards, and on two occa- sions murdered them in cold blood, and, over- powering the garrison, took over the command of the island. Curiously enough, — it was when — something supernatural happened that the convicts broke loose from their chains. For instance, in 1835 the island was shaken by an earthquake. The shocks had hardly passed before the three hundred odd convicts in the settle- ment broke loose from their chains, rushed upon their guards, and mur- dered nearly a hundred of them. They then armed themselves and marched to the fort, call- ing upon the garrison there to surrender. The latter did so, after making a very poor show of resist- THE TABLET ERECTED TO SELKIRK’S MEMORY BY THE OFFICERS OF M.M,S, “ TOPAZE,” ance. <A few days later From a Photo,

Page 26

ROBINSON who wished to taste the delights of seclusion. He took with him a small band of colonists, who from their manner of life might have been styled the Swiss Family Robinson, but they soon tired of the experience and came away. Some five years ago the Chilian Government sent a surveying party, which included the President of the Republic, to see whether Juan Fernandez was suitable for a modern convict settlement. It might have been imagined that the fact of its having already served in that CRUSOE’S ISLAND. 17 gently the flowers that bloomed all around us, all was fresh and fair and full .of romantic beauty. Yet there was life in the repose, abundance within the maze of heights that enriched the dreamy solitudes. Fields of wild oats waved with changing colours on the hill- sides, green meadows swept around the bases of the mountains, rich and fragrant shrubs bloomed everywhere we looked, fair flowers and running vines hung over the brows of the rocks, crowning them as with a garland, and springs THE CAVE, OR GROTTO, WHERE SELKIRK LIVED DURING THE FOUK YEARS AND FOUR MONTHS OF HIS EXILE. From a Photo. capacity would have sufficed, but the ways of South American Republics are unfathomable. After a pleasant trip the party returned and pronounced against the scheme. This, in brief, is the true history of Juan Fernandez. To-day theré are some sixty persons living on the island, chiefly whalers. And what is the island like, you ask? Seen from the sea it has the appearance of a huge barren rock, but inland there are innumerable valleys with smil- ing flowers. One of these is thus described by a recent visitor. “Nothing was here,” he says, “of that stern and inhospitable character that marked the rock-bound shores of the island. A soft haze hung over the valley, a happy quict reigned in the perfumed air, the breath of heaven touched Vol. xviii 3. burst out from the cool earth and fell in little tivulets down the grooves of myrtle below, and were lost in the shade. Nowhere was’ there a trace of man’s intrusion. Wild horses snuffling the breezes dashed into the valley in all the joyousness of their freedom, flinging back their manes and tossing their heads proudly ; and when they beheld us they started suddenly and fled up the mountains beyond. Herds of goats ran along the rocky declivities below us, looking scarcely bigger than rabbits ; and birds of bright and beautiful plumage flew close around our heads and lighted upon the trees. It was a fair scene, untouched by profaning hands; fair and solitary, and lovely in its solitude.” Naturally, the great curiosities of the island are the places where Alexander Selkirk spent

Page 27

18 THE WIDE WORLD the greater part of his days while he remained upon the island. There is first the cave, or grotto, which he used as ahouse. The opening at the entrance is about sixteen feet in height. It goes back for a distance of about thirty feet and varies in width from ten or twelve to eighteen feet. In the centre there is a heap of stones piled one on the top of the other right up to the ceiling. It is supposed Selkirk erected them to make his natural dwelling- place more secure. Around the walls are to this day a number of rusty nails and rude shelves and cupboards. ‘Then there is Look- Out Point, a lofty pinnacle whose summit towers over two thousand feet above the level of the sea. Selkirk is declared to have climbed this very mountain every day during the first ‘ From a) “LOOK-OUT POINT,” FROM THE TOP OF WHICH THE SULITARY CASTAWAY WATCHED FOR PASSING SHIPS, MAGAZINE. eight months of his residence upon the island in the hope of attracting the attention of a passing ship. It was only five years ago that a surveying party belonging to the Chilian Government dis- covered here, imbedded in the earth, the remains of an old flagstaff—the very one, it is believed, that Selkirk so often used. At the foot of this mound is the tablet which has been erected to his memory. These are the places of pilgrimage, celebrated spots where the visitor gives himself up to emotion and meditation, for no ordinary mortal can visit Juan Fernandez without recalling to his mind those wonderfut adventures of the solitary Scatch sailor which led to Defoe giving to the world that master- piece of adventure, ‘‘ Robinson Crusoe.” sx (Photo, stized ty OOle

Page 28

A Fight With a Leopard. By Ivan CALVIN WATERBURY. The story of a terrible struggle—a death-wrestle between an unarmed man and an infuriated leopard. For the first time in the history of big- game hunting the combat terminated in favour of the man, who, although terribly wounded, left his opponent dead on the ground. How human muscle and pluck triumphed over brute force is graphically told in the narrative. —|URING the zoological expedition } sent to Africa in 1896 by the Field |} Columbian Museum of Chicago, the taxidermist of that institution, Mr. = C. E. Akeley, killed a leopard in fair fight, using no other weapons than his bare hands. This remarkable victory of human muscle and pluck over brute strength and ferocity was won in the hinterland of British Somaliland ; and the way it hap- pened was as fol- lows. While hunting antelopes alone in a sandhill district, » Akeley shot a_ hyena and left it lying, for the time being, in a thicket that covered a steep- banked islet formed by a river and the forks of a brook. On returning to the same spot at sun- set, he found that the carcass had been temoved. The tracks leading away seemed to be those of a small lion, and the man eagerly followed the spoor along the half-dried brook-bed to the head of the island, hoping to get a shot at the king of beasts. He was taking chances in a most reckless fashion, for darkness would soon be upon him, and in his zeal he did not even pause to refill the magazine of his Mannlicher, in which only one cartridge remained. He merely carried an extra cartridge in his hand. There was no need to follow the traces far. Suddenly Akeley heard a rustle, followed by a MR. GE. AKELEY AN TER From a Photo, ti e FIGHT nm shortly after the encounter. low growl, from the edge of the underwood at the top of the high bank opposite him. Looking - across, he could dimly see the shadowy outline of some large animal, he could not tell what, crouching on the alert beside what he took to be the stolen carcass of his hyena. Promptly the taxidermist raised his rifle and fired at the pair of gleaming eyes, but the light was too poor for snap - shooting, and with another growl the creature sprang out of sight unwounded. ‘The next instant, to Akeley’s surprise, the bushes parted and a_ full - grown leopard leaped down into the wash- out and turned to attack him. Akeley saw that no dread of firearms would keep the infuriated cat from making an onset, and he real- ized with alarm the predicament into which his own lack of caution had pre- cipitated him. Only a score of yards of sand anda little pool separated him from the maddened beast, and his rifle was empty. In a twinkl- ing he turned and ran, at the same time pushing the solitary cartridge he held into his gun. But it was too late to mend his mistake. A slight splash in the pool behind warned him that he was hotly pursued, and he turned and fired wildly just as the great cat flew viciously at his throat. His bullet shattered one of the brute’s hind legs, but did not break the force of the animal’s leap through the riflesmoke. By WITH WHICH HE HAD HIS FOR LIFE.

Page 29

20 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. sheer luck, however, as the lifted rifle was knocked aside the breech of the weapon got in the way of the terrible jaws, which just missed the man’s throat, but locked about his upper right arm in a grip of steel. Akeley is anything but a powerful-looking man, being only of middle height and very slender, weighing barely a hundred and forty pounds. At that time, moreover, he was not in the best of health, but in spite of the shock of the leap and before he could withdraw the limb from that living vice. Coat-sleeve and shirt-sleeve were torn off and remained in the gnashing, foaming mouth, but the naked, bleeding right arm, though somewhat numbed, was not disabled. Throttling then with both hands, Akeley drove the madly-struggling creature over backwards. The hind-quarters turned in the fall, so that the sound hind leg became pressed against the soft ground, Still the choking continued, while the “aS THY LIFTED RIFLE WAS KNOCKED ASIDE THE UREECH OF THE WEAPON GOT IN THE WAY OF THE TERRIBLE JAWS." the pain of the bite, he kept his footing and seized the snarling leopard’s throat with a left- handed grip, at the same time springing with his heavy boot upon the cat’s sound hind leg. In his choking grasp, which momentarily tightened, the brute gasped, coughed, and gurgled, though it did not relax its hold, snapping and tearing the flesh frightfully all the way down the captive arm with its gleaming fangs. With the sustained strength of desperation—though every movement gave him exquisite torture—Akeley freed his arm little by little at each jerk of the champing, blood-flecked jaws, which bit him deeply in the biceps, the forearm, the wrist, and the hand, deadly fore paws, armed with their terrible claws, were held wide apart and useless by the hunter’s knees. With set teeth and staring eyes Akeley maintained his grip with both hands, conscious of only one thing—that if he relaxed his hold even for an instant he would be promptly torn to pieces. With panting breath and quivering muscles he held on, till he no longer felt on his face the hot, fetid breath. A few moments more and the lithe, contorted body gave a con- vulsive shudder and became limp. But the life-and-death struggle was not yet over. Kneeling on the leopard’s stomach and holding the fore are apart with his Digitized b Goog (e

Page 30

A FIGHT WITH A LEOPARD. 21 ““ AKELEY DROVE THE MADLY-STRUGGLING CREATURE BACKWARDS.” elbows, the gasping taxidermist, hardly able to comprehend his victory, loosened his grip on the animal’s throat for a short breathing-spell. Almost immediately, however, he marked a flash of new light in the glaring golden eyes and felt the stir of returning energy through the, dappled skin. Once more the hunter grabbed for the leopard’s throat, only just in time, and the battle went on as before—man against: beast, brain and muscle against brute force. But for the softness of the sand the great cat could have wriggled its body free and brought - to bear the deadly claws of the sound hind foot, which, as things were, only worked its way deeper into the yielding soil. In vain, writhing convulsively this way and that, the brute tried to reach the throttling hands with teeth that gleamed like curved ivory daggers. Would this nightmare combat never end?—the tortured man asked himself. Feeling his over- taxed strength gradually giving out, he felt desperately for the brute’s ribs with his knees, and one by one broke half-a-dozen of them. One rib, in snapping, pierced the leopard’s lungs, and this hastened the end. The big cat’s body grew limp again, the heart left off beating, and for the first time in history one of the great jungle felines succumbed in fair fight to a weaponless man. Akeley rose to his feet exhausted, trembling, and bleeding, and scarcely able to realize how he had accomplished the feat. His wounds were terribly painful, and, under the circum- stances, very dangerous. Yet, notwithstanding his exhaustion, he contrived to reach camp, though he had to leave his trophy to secure later. Dr. D. G. Elliot, commander of the expedition, undoubtedly saved him from death by immediately bathing the venomous wounds with diluted corrosive sublimate, binding them up next morning with antiseptics and oiled silk. The wounds were healed in a week, and the plucky taxidermist bagged many more specimens of big game during the same expe- dition ; but for over a year his right arm pained him in performing certain processes of his work. FIELn.COLUMBIAN MusEUM THE AUTHENTICATION FURNISHED BY DR, ELLIOT, THE LEADER OF THE EXPEDITION, AS TO THE TRUTH OF THIS STORY.

Page 31

The White Slaves of the Grand Banks. By P. T. McGratu, oF St. JoHN’s, NEWFOUNDLAND. A description, by a journalist on the spot, of the great international fishing industry of the Grand Banks. It is a hard and perilous life, and Mr. McGrath has some startling stories to tell concerning the shocking brutalities which are sometimes practised upon the hapless naval conscripts aboard the French vessels. ==——) HE new Anglo-Gallic Convention, now in full effect, terminates the French occupancy of the “ Treaty Shore” of Newfoundland and cen- tralizes the oversea fishery interests of France on the Grand Banks alone. For years past this outcome has been inevitable, the French finding it impossible to operate profit- ably on the “‘lernovan ” (Newfoundland) coast, and every season witnessing more and more of them abandoning it for the better-paying venture on the Grand Banks, though in this also they are hampered considerably by the enforcement of the Newfoundland Bait Act. In the process of fishing by means of hooks and lines, which is followed on the Banks instead of employing nets, the barbed instruments have to be baited with small fishes—herring, caplin, and squid— which are found in greatest abundance in the littoral waters of the island colony, where fisher- men of every nationality engaged in the “ bank- ing industry” procure supplies of this bait— except the French, who are specifically denied it by a Colonial enactment. The reason for this is that France, regarding AM J feel Sake wae nS yeeoer eee te So abe Mas 4 “a Sh Ste’ her From a) the Bank fishery as a national training ground for her navy, provides large bounties, equal to seventy per cent. of the value of the catch, to encourage the residents of her Norman and Breton coasts to continue its prosecution. Therefore, with this aid, they can sell their catch in the European markets at prices far below those which would remunerate their Ter- novan competitors, who have no stich stimulus, and, accordingly, Newfoundland, as a measure of self-preservation, enacted this Bait Law, prohibiting the sale or export of bait fishes to the French, and denying them all access to her waters except for food, shelter, or repair. Such, in a few words, is the scope of this remarkable measure, which has struck the French fishiag interests so grievous a blow that the ratification of the new Conven- tion by the French Chamber was postponed for a season and jeopardized for long, through the protests of the Breton fishing outfitters and catchers, and their demand for the repeal of this obnoxious regulation, which has reduced their catch of cod to one-half of what it was ten years ago.

Page 32

THE WHITE SLAVES OF THE GRAND BANKS. 23 The Grand Banks are mighty submarine plateaux, twelve hours’ sail off the east coast of Newfoundland, extending from Fundy Bay to Labrador, in area twelve hundred miles long by three hundred wide, and submerged from thirty to sixty fathoms below the sea. These are the greatest feeding grounds in the world for cod, the staple food fish of the Atlantic seaboard, which has been pursued for nearly four centuries by the hardy voyagers from both sides of the ocean. As early as 1504 English and French fishers were frequent- ing Newfoundland ; Bretons, Basques, Portu- guese, and Spaniards followed, and a century later the industry was among the foremost in maritime Europe. Raleigh declared it to be the mainstay of the West Country, Bacon spoke of it as richer than the gold-mines of Peru, Cromwell sent commissioners to administer it, and Pitt proclaimed that England would defend it as a nursery for her Navy even if an enemy were in possession of the ‘Tower. Here the daring mariners who harried the Armada learned their trade of sea- faring ; here were trained the bull- dog sailors who swept the Spanish Main ; here was laid the foundation of England’s naval greatness, it being her chief oversea objective in those bygone days. Nor was France behindhand in utilizing this promis- ing enterprise to uphold her marine prowess, for she has always gener- ously subsidized the pursuit, in order that from its thousands of expert “banquiers” she may secure re- cruits for her warships whose mettle and training are beyond dispute. To-day what was the British industry of the past—peaceful fishing argosies putting out from England and Ire- land every spring and returning every fall—is divided into the American fleet, from Massachusetts, crewed by the descendants of the revolting Colonists who fought with John Paul Jones; the Canadian fleet, from Nova Scotia, which is filled by the posterity of the Empire Loyalists who sacrificed home to patriotism; and the Ternovan fleet, from Newfoundland, which boasts that in its forecastles are the finest seamen in the world—a blend of English, Scotch, and Irish stock which peopled the oldest colony. But the French flotilla remains virtually unchanged. It comprises the ‘“ Metropolitan ” fleet of about a hundred square-rigged ships, carrying thirty to forty men each — from St. Malo, Dieppe, and Cancale, and the “Colonial” fleet of three hundred trim and handy schooners, the type now universal in these Western waters and bought in Western seaports. Until twelve or fifteen years ago “ square - riggers” were numerous with them, and clumsy dateaux were employed for the fishing. But the superiority of the dories became so manifest ‘that now even the Breton vessels use them, and a bateau is never seen. ‘The dory, though light, is eminently seaworthy ; it is built with sloping _osides, flat bottom, and movable seats, so that the skiffs fit into one another on the ship’s deck and thus effect a very valuable economy in room. In all, about a thousand vessels of different nationalities, crewed by twenty thousand men, are dispersed over the Grand Banks during the long and pleasant summer days, the height of the fishing season, The region is covered with the Arctic floes until well up in April, and scarcely has it cleared away than from the countless Cisatlantic harbours the fishing craft flock out, driving before the A TYPICAL ‘ BANKER.” robust winds with full sail set, like flocks of gulls on the wing, speeding for the best trawling grounds about the Banks. Here, on a bright, sunlit noontide, the marine picture that is pre- sented is unequalled elsewhere in the world. Far as the eye can reach in every direction is spread an animated panorama. The whole horizon is dotted with the sails of the “bankers ”—white, black, brown, red, and motley. The ships themselves are as varied in trim and rig, and upon the summits of the sun-crested waves ride

Page 33

24 THE AY a\, Taare be Soin WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. frou aj hundreds of tiny dories, each containing two men, who do the actual fishing. This is accomplished by means of “trawls ”—single lines, moderately stout, several hundred feet long, on which, a yard apart, are fixed smaller cords, with a hook at the end, baited for the greedy cod. The dories leave the mother-ship every morning, radiating from her in every direction like spokes from a wheel-hub. A mile or so off they set their trawls, lowering them into the water with a buoy and anchor at each end. When the last is set they return to the first and overhaul or examine it for the catch it should by then have made. The cod are next taken to the ship, gutted, cleaned, and salted away in the hold, and the process is repeated until she is loaded or her bait requires replenish- ing, when she runs to land for it. Scores of schooners owned by Breton firms are laid up for the winter at St. Pierre, crews being sent out every spring to man them and brought back every fall after the fishery closes. In the latter half of March in each year these fishermen are being ferried across the ocean to begin their annual trawling campaign against the codfish on the Grand Banks and to en- dure six months of misery and wretchedness. Tragic sometimes are the experiences of these freighters. In April, 1897, the brig Var//ant, with seventy-four persons on board, struck an iceberg at midnight on the Banks and foundered suddenly, only one boat’s crew escaping. ‘These poor wretches were adrift for a week, during which THE FISHING FLEET IN ST, JOHN'S HARBUUK, KEADY FOK SEA, [Photo. time all perished but three, and these only kept themselves alive by the dreadful alter- native of cannibalism, and lost feet and hands from frost bite. In rgor the steamer Jeanne Conseil, with one thousand and _ fifty fishermen, whom she was conveying across, lost her propeller in mid-ocean and drifted helplessly about for many days until all on board were reduced to the verge of starvation, the officers standing guard with loaded revolvers over the limited supply of provisions. Then the British steamer Zofaze sighted and towed her into Fayal. In the last days of March, in 1903, the steamers Burgundia and Notre Dame de Salut, each with twelve hundred fishermen on board, were stricken by an equinoctial gale off Newfoundland and almost foundered. Several men were washed overboard and the ships dismantled. Being several days overdue, great fear was felt for them, and the Ministry BAN From a Photo. by 8. H. Parsons, Stcfohn's, NF. SMEN CLEANING FISH.

Page 34

THE WHITE SLAVES OF THE GRAND BANKS. 25 of Marine had ordered warships to proceed from Brest to search for them when they arrived. Not long ago the brig Sans Souct, with seventy-one men, was caught and crushed in the ice-floes during a storm, six men being washed from her decks. The survivors nearly died from cold, hunger, and thirst, for the craft .was almost awash and the provisions and water were spoiled by the brine. For three days and nights the crew pumped incessantly, without either fire, food, sleep, or shelter. Then the steamer S#. Andrew bore down upon them and rescued the wretched beings whom another few hours would have seen engulfed in the ocean depths. France’s little outpost of St. Pierre-Miquelon, they are liable for service, putting in two years as beach-boys at St. Pierre, to handle the fish in the drying processes, and then three years with the trawling fleet on the Banks. From this they are drafted into the navy if physically fit ; if rejected they continue at the fishery. Every year, about the middle of March, these marine conscripts assemble at St. Malo, and after being enrolled and inspected are herded like so much live-stock aboard the transports, which convey them out to St. Pierre to be dis- persed among the fishing vessels, in which they work for the summer. During this period their lot is hard. They observe no Sabbath and enjoy no relaxations. From daylight till dark, and oftentimes after, they toil without ceasing, FRENCH BRACH-BOYS LANDING CODFISH AT ST. PIERRE—THE CONSCRIPTS HAVE TO PUT IN TWO YEARS AT THIS WORK From a) to the south of Newfoundland, is the seat of her Grand Bank fishing industry. By conscrip- tion she forces into the trade the youths of the provinces fronting on the Atlantic seaboard. Of all the thousands of trawlmen who frequent these ocean ledges, the lot of the French is un- questionably the most miserable. The business at best is arduous and venturesome, but the crews of other nationalities have this in their favour—that they are free agents, the arbiters of their own destinies, free either to join ship or to stay ashore, whereas the French are the slaves of the conscription, and powerless to obtain even ordinary comforts for themselves, not to speak of more substantial rights. At sixteen Vol. xviii, 4. BEFORE BEING DRAFTED TO THE SCHOONERS. [Photo. subject to the caprice or brutality of drunken and heavy-handed skippers, and living amid the most squalid surroundings. They sleep in foul- smelling, ill-lighted quarters, without sanitation or cleanliness, with sheaves of straw for their beds and salt-bags their coverlets. Their fare is the coarsest, their raiment the scantiest, their recompense the smallest. Living as they do amid vice and drunkenness, their finer instincts are soon blunted; and unless they can desert and escape to Canada or Newfoundland, as many do each year, they are soon reduced to the common level. No more repulsive place could be imagined than the forecastle of a French “banker,” where twenty men or more

Page 35

26 THE WIDE WORLD From a) are gathered. — Kipling, in his ‘Captains Cour- ageous,” drew a rather forbidding picture of the Frenchmen cod-fishing on the Grand Banks, but he did not exaggerate the realities of the case. search the archives of the French Ministry of Marine for portions of a report of a Com- mission of Inquiry into the accompaniments of this fishery in 1897, suppressed because of the horrible details it set forth. Even the parts of the report which obtained publicity contained such revolting facts that much mote stringent tules for warship inspection’ of the fishing fleet were promulgated. In February, 1904, a revelation of the savageries perpetrated on board these fishing craft was furnished by the Public Prosecutor at St. Malo. A skipper and mate, brothers, were charged with the murder of two sailors. One of these, a writer and a traveller, had joined the vessel for the purpose of study- ing the life of a fisherman, and exposing horrors currently reported to be practised among them. The skipper, learning of his purpose, persistently persecuted him during the cruise, eventually causing his death. Because he protested against the flogging of a boy, he was stripped, tied to a mast, and flogged himself, being left bound and naked on deck for hours at night in the piercing cold. Then another of the crew died of the ill- treatment he received, the skipper having torn off both his ears. After he died the body To understand these one would need to MAGAZINE. was pickled in a cask of salt, and orgies were held over the corpse. Later it was muti- lated and thrown into the sea. The amateur sailor having declared he would report this atrocious murder to the authorities, the skipper and the mate threw him ‘overboard. He was rescued by the sailors, but a few days later was attacked by the mate, and his skull crushed in with a_ belaying- pin. A boy was flogged by the skipper for at- tempting to attend the injured man, and the latter was left to die on deck, where he expired in a few hours. The brutal skipper actually had the body hoisted up to the mast-head for twenty-four hours before casting it into the ocean, as a warning to the other hands who might be tempted to turn informer ! Atrocities of a similar kind are chronicled every year. Last summer a fishing vessel returned to St. Pierre from the Grand Banks with the skipper a raving maniac and in irons, he having run amuck and murdered three of his crew while in a drunken frenzy. Some time before that a vessel was lost and only two out of her twenty-four men escaped, because the drunken skipper stood at the rail with a loaded revolver and would not allow the hands to shorten sail. The previous year a skipper was sentenced to life imprisonment at St. Pierre for so ill-treating two boys on his boat that they died. But these convictions are only isolated instances of punishment ; in the great majority of cases the scoundrels escape. Human life is cheap on these French “bankers.” The death-roll of the fleet runs into hundreds annually, and it is asserted by the American, Canadian, and Ternovan fishermen that the French skippers in many instances will not trouble to search for driftaway dorymen, manifesting absolute indifference to their fate. This is one of the chief causes of friction between English and French sjjeaking Bankmen, (Photo.

Page 36

THE WHITE SLAVES OF THE GRAND BANKS. 27 for the former believe that many of their com- rades are allowed to perish by the French when they might easily be rescued. Certain it is that the most unseaworthy craft are used in the fishery by the French, for when vessels are condemned by other nationalities they can always be sold at St. Pierre, and are outfitted for the Banks from that port. The consequence is that when the region is beset by storms the losses to the French through crazy craft and rotten gear are great. Thus, when the hurricane which devastated Galveston in the autumn of 1900 swept up the Atlantic seaboard and spent its last rage on the Grand Banks, the American fleet escaped with the loss of one vessel and twenty-three men, the Canadian fleet with three vessels and forty-one men, and the Ternovan fleet with two vessels and twenty-two men, while the French lost twenty-four vessels and two hundred and eighty- nine men -— blotted out of existence in one night. A contributive cause to this loss of life among the French “bankers” is the fact that intoxicating liquors are carried in quantities among the stores of these French vessels, and each man is allowed a dram of brandy with every meal. In addition, they find the liquor supply easy of access at other times, and in their half-tipsy state are unable to handle either the vessels or the dories, and death overcomes them, either in ones or twos or in whole ships’ companies. Many a mishap to dories of the other fleets is caused, too, by their men boarding French ships and obtaining spirits while away at their trawls. On the Banks the other fleets try to keep clear of the French __ vessels, for one of these in the vicinity is a constant dan- ger. In the sum- mer of 1g02 a drunken Malouin set fire to his vessel, then in the _Midst of a score of others, and as the flames spread some frightened wretch cut the cable and the burning craft drove down on the other vessels, forcing them to cut and run also to escape disaster. A WAIT STATION ON THE NEWFOU From a) NDLAND COAST—UNDER TIL ALLOWED Tu OBTAIN BAIT FKOM Tete HJ ACES. The crew of a Newfoundland vessel lying to windward rescued the imperilled men — all except the one that started the fire, and who, armed with an axe, beat off all who came near him, and danced with glee on what soon became his funeral pyre. Frequently during storms the rotten gear on a French smack gives out and she drifts down on the other vessels, destroying their trawls, if she does not collide with and damage the ships them- selves. Often, too, in the height of a gale other crews have to put out their dories and, at the risk of their own lives, save a mob of shriek- ing, panic-stricken Frenchmen from a crazy, leaky, storm-beaten hull which is sinking under their feet. All in all, then, this French fishery on the Grand Banks is the nearest approach to an ocean inferno that can be well imagined. The whole theory of its maintenance is that the human beings engaged in it have no rights, no liberties, no title to consideration of any sort, and that any brutality short of murder itself is excusable so long as a good return in cod is secured. Hence the most depressing phases of human existence are witnessed there, and the business is one which, in its every feature, shocks even a man of ordinary feelings. Therefore, the crews of the other fleets are always ready to shield a maimed or beaten Frenchman who rows to them for shelter. The disclosures of the shocking treatment to which the ‘‘ banquiers” were subjected caused a sensation in France and resulted in the fitting- out by the Société des Ouvres de Mer (a sort of French Deep-Sea Mission) of a hospital ship for service on the Banks. The first was a fine NEW REGULATIONS THE FRENCH WILL NOT BE {Pheoto. Digitized by \- ,00gle

Page 37

28 THE WIDE vessel, the S¢. Pierre, but she was wrecked on the Newfoundland coast on her maiden voyage, and to replace her a steamer, the $4 /rangots, was built. This craft makes regular trips between St. Pierre and the Banks during the summer, distributing and collecting mail among the fleet, treating the sick and injured, and conveying the more serious cases to the hospital at St. Pierre. She carries a priest, two physicians, and a staff of nurses, and is the greatest boon possible to the poor outcasts of the fishing smacks, who, under the old regime, were denied the con- solations of religion or medical aid. One of the French warships on the Newfoundland station also visits the Banks once or twice in a season and obtains reports as to disorders and disasters. One of the sombre episodes which make this industry so calamitous occurred late in August, 1904, when a large French barque, apparently unmanageable, was sighted by a Canadian smack a hundred and seventy miles off Cape Race, and was found to be a Breton “ banker” which had lost all her dorymen— thirty in number—and had but three persons on board, the captain, cook, and steward, who were help- less to control her. They besought assistance, but it was too stormy for the Canadian to board her, so she drifted down the wind with her three frenzied, gesticulating wretches, to probably perish, as no word of her was ever again received. Unluckily, too, the Canadian did not remember her name, and her identity cannot be discovered, for her dories evidently met the same fate, being doubtless overwhelmed by the storm before they could reach her or other vessels to obtain shelter. Such occur- rences are by no means rare, and every season some mishap of similar dimensions is recorded, not only to French craft, but also to those of other fleets. On the Banks the Labrador current and the Gulf Stream meet, and the commingling of the cold and warm waters produces almost constant fog, so dense that at times it is impossible to see the length of a schooner’s deck. These mists envelop the region rapidly, and hence dories out from their vessels and at work among their trawls are overtaken by the deadly veil, which destroys all idea of locality for them, so that they drift away over the silent ocean to endure the direst miseries or perish after terrible suffering. The skiffs rarely carry food or water and afford no shelter to the occupants, so these are tortured by the cold at night, by the sun all day, and by the changes of the elements; drenched by rain or spray, buffeted by gales, invaded by billows, and racked by the pains of hunger and thirst. The most appalling instances of human WORLD MAGAZINE. suffering are recorded in connection with this industry—the fishermen being adrift for ten and twelve days, some losing their fingers and toes from frost-bite, more keeping themselves alive by cannibalism, and others being crippled for ever from chills and exposure, while in the majority of instances dories tenanted with one or two dead bodies afford the only evidence that another pair of unfortunate Bankmen have succumbed to the cruel fate that lies perpetually in wait for them. Another circumstance which causes many gruesome tragedies on the Banks is the sinking of trawlers by ocean steamships which race across the shallows in the densest of fogs, rending apart any frail barque that may obstruct their course. ‘The danger from this is on foggy or rainy nights, for the vessel’s horns cannot be heard by a steamer, unless the look-outs are very alert, in time to stop her way ; and the steamer’s lights are not visible until she is upon her tiny victim, which is shattered like an egg-shell by the impact of the mighty hull that strikes her with resistless force. Many a fine craft is sent to the bottom in this way, and the Bankmen’s hatred of ocean liners is beyond description. The collisions usually occur in the early morning, and if it is stormy the “banker” scarcely ever escapes. Sometimes it is possible to cut the cable or take a glancing blow, the crew thereby avoiding death, though their vessel is crippled, but rarely do these accidents occur without some man’s life paying the penalty, he being killed outright or mortally injured by the falling spars or splintered timbers. Usually whole crews are drowned in their berths, except the two men on watch, by the monster pushing their craft under water as she strikes it, before they can reach the deck. Nor do the big boats always stop to help those whose undoing they have caused. Some have been known to hurry off before they can be identified. The shock of collision is explained to anxious passengers as being due to contact with some loose ice, and cries, if any, as the warning shouts of the watch on deck. Meanwhile a score of unfortunate wretches are struggling in the dark waters behind, and the mass of wreckage swirls in her wake for a few minutes and then disappears, while in some fishing hamlet mothers and children keep watch, with aching eyes and sickened hearts, for the ship that will never return. In the little graveyard of St. Pierre are scores of slabs whose legends attest that they were erected by sorrow- ing wives and mothers to the memory of some who “disappeared with their shipmates on the Grand Banks and were seen no more.” If such mishaps occur at.periods when the Banks

Page 38

THE WHITE SLAVES OF THE GRAND BANKS. 29 are free from storms, the losses are invariably, and in most cases with justice, attributed to ocean steamers. Icebergs and floes contribute no small pro- portion of the annual death-roll on the Banks. The vessels frequently collide with these great sea castles as they move silently on through the fog, or are overturned by resistless masses sweep- frequently deserves the harsh treatment he receives. Quarrels arise as to fishing grounds, “ overlaying,” or setting trawls across another's, and the theft of fish from the baited hooks, and the Frenchman is nine times out of ten the offender. An indignant Yankee skipper last year sank a whole flock of dories towing behind a Frenchman who had “ robbed his trawls,” and AN ICEBERG ON THE GRAND BANKS—MANY A FISHING VESSEL IS WRECKED BY COLLISION WITH ONE OF From a) ing upon them as they lie at anchor. In such cases it is not uncommon for the castaway crews to take refuge on the berg itself and there await rescue, and this has more than once been done without the loss of a man. Floes engirdle the ships and nip them, crushing their sides and forcing the crews to find a temporary lodgment, with dories, provisions, and impedimenta, on some large “pan” of ice, whence they reach other ships or ferry themselves through the masses, as a breeze disperses them, until they can row safely to land. In the spring this ice peril is at its worst, and rarely a day passes but some craft is forced into harbour for repairs, or some shipless crew reaches port with another tale of disaster and misery and hairbreadth escape. Generally speaking, relations are always strained between the French Bankmen on the one side and their American, Canadian, and Ternovan rivals on the other. The latter three being united by the bond of a common tongue invariably combine against “ Froggie,” and he THESE DRIFTING BERGS. (Photo. during the past spring a free fight occurred between dories over the same cause. The Frenchmen are also very dangerous when aroused, and only a few weeks before this was written a big French barque tried twice to cut down a Ternovan schooner because of a dispute over an anchorage, and actually carried away a lot of her spars and gear. Another attempted the same outrage upon a small smack in Trepassey Bay which would not supply her with bait. The struggle between France and Newfound- land for fishery supremacy will now be a straight fight to a finish, unobscured by side issues arising out of the “Treaty Shore” dispute. The Frenchmen will have to do the best they can without bait, and it must be only a question of comparatively few years ere they will be forced to abandon their enterprise on the Grand Banks and relinquish St. Pierre, or else withdraw the bounties and agree to fair competition with the Ternovans in return'for the privileges now denied them by the Bait Act.

Page 39

In Search of Pearls. By LizuTENANT Epwarp Royston. The story of an exciting expedition in quest of a rich pearl-bed off the Australian coast. For a long time no success attended the party, but just when utter disaster seemed to have overtaken them things began to mend, and the submarine treasure-ground was discovered. N the year 1899 a small prospect- fj ing party set sail from Brisbane, Australia, in search of a rich pearl- bed off the Queensland coast, the locality of which had been un- intentionally divulged by a native diver while under the influence of liquor. This black fellow had shortly before accompanied a German mechanic, named Hans Bergier, to the place, but the results of the Bergier expedition were not altogether satisfactory. Although pearls were found, it was noticed that the quality and quantity improved at a greater depth of water than it was safe to descend to with the ordinary apparatus employed. Bergier accordingly re- turned to Sydney in order to superintend the construction of a new diving-suit, which he hoped would. enable him to descend with ease and safety to a depth beyond that reached with the appa- arrangements for a transfer of commission to the Imperial forces. Whilst waiting in Brisbane 1 became acquainted with C. , nicknamed “The Admiral” by reason of his disciplined bearing and extensive nautical knowledge. He had learnt of the pearl-bed and its position off the Queensland coast from the native diver; and the statements made by the black fellow were so lucid and well connected that the “Admiral” determined to make every effort to organize an expedition in search of fortune. Being tired of an idle life, I decided to throw in my lot with him, at the same time arranging for my friend Dick Smith to accompany us. We bought a small, half-decked sailing- boat and provisioned her for six months, the “ Admiral” seeing to such details as firearms, diving-suits, and sea-going requirements. All arrangements for the ratus then in general use. Minor improvements in diving-dresses are often being invented and tried, although long-continued experience in the business has suggested such alterations that the diving- dress used at the present time is very nearly perfect. Ber- gier’s contrivance proved a complete failure, insomuch that it caused the death by drowning of its luckless in- ventor at the first trial in deep water. expedition having been com- pleted, we set sail early one morning in the month of Feb- ruary. It was necessary for us to keep the coast in sight, as we were taking our course from land bearings, the boat —known as the Pear! Queen —being too small to do other- wise without running unneces- sary risk. Nothing very eventful oc- curred on the voyage up the coast. We camped on shore at night, excepting when the moon was bright enough to enable Thus the knowledge of the pearl-bed remained in posses- sion of the black diver already referred to and one other man, who had been a member of the deceased German's expedition. I will now return to the prospecting party of the year 1899, and describe its members. They consisted of Wilfred C. , ex-lieutenant of the Royal Navy; Dick Smith, son of a doctor then practising in Brisbane; “Billy Bung,” a black tracker employed by the local police when searching for criminals in the bush; Ah Sin Ling, a Chinaman, whom we engaged as cook and general factotum; and myself, Edward Royston, a young officer in the Australian Light Horse, at that time on the Reserve and making THE AUTHOR, LIEUT, EDWARD ROYSTON. From a Photo. us to keep sailing and sleep on board. Two of us at a time took charge of the naviga- tion, in “ watches” of four hours. The China- man proved to be a very indifferent sailor, and his knowledge of a sea life was so cramped and unimaginative that we allowed him to do much as he pleased ; but yet this lone representative of the Yellow Peril was by no means a fool, for he could cook most tastefully in French, curse with distressing broadness in English, and pray devoutly in his mother tongue. “ Billy Bung,” the aboriginal, took a great dislike to him from the commencement of the voyage, but no love was lost on either side. ‘This ill-feeling was partly caused by the annoying grin that flitted across

Page 40

IN SEARCH OF PEARLS. 3 “IT WAS NECESSARY FOR US TO KEEP THE COAST IN SIGHT, AS WE WERE TAKING OUR COURSE FROM LAND BEARINGS.” Sin’s expansive features whenever he looked Billy in the face. Our progress was slow, for the Pear/ Queen was an awkward tub to manage in even a very moderate sea. Most of the time on board was spent lazily, telling “dog-yarns” for want of something better to do. When camped on shore at night there was no danger of our being attacked by the blacks, for they are great cowards when it becomes dark. A dread of bush spirits, chief among whom is the mysterious “ Bunyip,” accounts for their in- activity and peaceful, stay-in-camp attitude after sunset. After a month's voyage we arrived at our destination and immediately set to work. The first task was not “pearling,” but repairing the Pearl Queen, some of whose planks had slightly sprung during the voyage. We accordingly beached her, and the “Admiral” commenced the work of caulking and repairing. Dick, Billy, and I went almost every day on shooting expeditions, and soon obtained a good idea as to the nature of the country within five gt or six miles of the coast. We luckily found a creck of fresh water situated about two miles inland, and it was from this that we ob- tained our fresh-water supply dur- ing the next four months. The blacks were fairly numerous and from the first showed signs that they resented our excursions in- land, although on one occasion Billy managed to approach a few and hold some conversation with them. They were sulky and reti- cent on being asked questions about the country, and intimated that it would be wise for us to return to our own hunting-fields. With the exception of Billy, how- ever, we did not trouble our minds over the warning received, wan- dering wherever good sport was to be had for our guns. The “Admiral,” after a week's work, proclaimed the Pear? Queen to be as good as new, and all of us being anxious to commence diving operations, we lost no time in launching the boat once more. At this particular part of the coast there were a dozen or so small, rocky islands, the farthest being within three miles of the main- land, and it was on the largest of the group that we decided to camp. During the next two months we worked very hard, spending ten hours every day in search of pearls, but, alas } with somewhat unsatisfactory results, which, however, were not absolutely disheartening, for pearls were found, but not of a quality or in sufficient quantity to justify us in thinking for a moment that we had found the promised Tom Tiddler’s ground. After working gradually right round the island we began to think it rather strange that the depth of water was rarely above twenty feet. Bergier, as before explained, had abandoned his attempts owing to the unsafe depths he found it necessary to work in; therefore the only con- clusion to be arrived at was that we were fishing off the wrong island. We accordingly decided to try round the next largest island in the group, but only to find it an even poorer pearling-ground than the other. The water between it and the mainland was very shallow, and the pearls when tested were invariably rough and slightly dis- coloured. The only result of our efforts seemed to be that we were getting farther than ever from the b \s00Q le Oo

Page 41

32 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. treasure-patch for which we so diligently sought. Ere long the low stock of rations brought to mind the disconcerting fact that the return voyage to Brisbane would soon have to be con- sidered. Such thoughts were most disappoint- ing after all our hopes and hard work. One evening four of us went inland towards the fresh-water creek for the purpose of refilling the water-tank on board the boat before com- mencing the return voyage to Brisbane. The Chinaman was left in charge of the Pear? Queen, and we, not wishing to overburden ourselves, left our firearms on board. Just before reach- ing the creek “ Billy Bung” made the alarming discovery that we were being followed by a large and warlike tribe of blacks, evidently bent on mischief! This announcement quite staggered us for a few minutes, as the chance of being placed in such a position had never crossed our minds for months past, the blacks seeming to have practically deserted the district soon after our arrival. ‘Another proof of the unexpected always happen- ing,” muttered the “ Admiral,” glancing round disgustedly, for the firearms which should have been there were missing. Holding a hasty council of war, we agreed that our only hope was to take advantage of the falling darkness and put a good distance between us and our pursuers be- fore daybréak. This’we did with- out much difficulty, it being as easy for Billy to find his way in the dark as in the light! Next morning, after a couple of hours’ sleep, each man having taken a turn at watching for half an hour during that time, we discussed our awkward predicament and decided on accepting our black companion’s advice as to the best way of returning to the coast. He held that it would be wise to keep the watchful enemy at a safe dis- tance for two or three days longer before we attempted to double back on our tracks and rejoin the isolated and miserable Mongol on board the Pear? Queen. To this plan we agreed, as any blacks who might have been left to deal with us on an immediate return to the coast would follow after their com- panions in the course of a few days, thinking it impossible for the whites, without food, to be This was merely supposition on our part, of course, arrived at after long and earnest dis- cussion as to what was best to be done. During the next three days a hot chase ensued, for the blacks followed us closely. We were, however, able to keep the enemy at a distance, owing to long starts obtained on the first and succeeding nights. But every hour our task grew more difficult owing to the lack of proper nourishment, our only food being wild berries and cockatoo eggs. On the fourth morning of the pursuit “Billy Bung” and Dick climbed up a tree as usual in search of eggs for breakfast, which we were all badly in need of after the night’s heavy travelling. Whilst they were thus occupied the blacks suddenly appeared over a small hill close by—in the opposite direction from which we expected them ! What was to be done? Surrender was not to be thought of, and resistance was out of the able to make good their escape. ‘CPHE BLACKS SUDDENLY APPEARED OVE A’ SMALt HEL CLOSE By.” so vy f

Page 42

IN SEARCH OF question. Our friends up the tree felt their position keenly, but pluckily advised us to run. Accordingly we ran, and the natives, determined to make a capture, followed in an excited mob. In a very short time we were forced to give in and submit to being made captives, for their spears and boomerangs had begun to fall dangerously close. Our captors, with much jabbering, then took us with them in pursuit of Dick and Billy, who, finding themselves overlooked, had made good their escape from the tree. Although they were out of sight, the blacks had, of course, no trouble in following their tracks. The “ Admiral ” and I were allowed to walk side by side, and we con- versed freely on the misfortune that had so unexpec- tedly overtaken us after our long -forced march of ‘ the previous night. Only one conclu- sion was possible —that Billy had almost doubled back on his tracks ; the difficult coun- try, the dark night, and our headlong haste accounting for his fatal mis- take. ‘The natives, following ourtracks next morning, must have quickly per- ceived the error, and by dint of sharp and clever scouting found us not far off their camping-ground of the night before. They followed the tracks of our escaped com- panions at a quick pace for most of the day, but when PEARLS. 33 to sit or recline at ease. So far the natives had not offered to ill-treat us in any way, but we could see that they were watching us intently. The “Admiral” caused great excitement among the native ladies by sticking his monocle in position and tugging at his great brown moustache as he nonchalantly leaned against a tree and discussed with me the doubtful advis- ability of introducing into Bond Street such light and airy costumes as were worn by the members of the tribe. As the night advanced the jabbering and clatter of tongues gradually ceased, until finally absolute silence reigned, only broken now and then by the mourn- ful hoot of the mo- poke and the death-howl of some small, unfor- tunate animal which had possibly become a prey to the fangs and claws of the iguana. The “ Admiral” and I decided to keep watch by turns during the night, some of the natives doing like- wise. About mid- night 1 was sud- .denly awakened by piercing screams of fear uttered by our captors, and jumping to my feet in amazement I beheld the whole ‘tribe stampeding from the camp in a terror - stricken mob. “What on earth is up now?” I asked the “Admi- ral,” who stood gazing intently to- wards the lagoon. He did not reply to the question, 2 “THE ‘ADMIRAL CAUSED GREAT EXCITEMENT AMONG THE NATIVE LADIFS KY = night fell they sriceia mis Monocue IN POSITION AND TUGGING AT His GREAT brows DUt Walked quickly halted and MOUSTACHE.” to the other camped beside a small lagoon situated in a thickly-wooded part of the bush. Here we passed a fairly comfort- able evening, and thoroughly enjoyed a meal of stewed opossums and yams, which our captors brought us. We were not bound, so were able Vol. xviii—S. side of the camp, where a black heap lay on the ground. It was a young man belonging to the departed tribe, who had evidently fallen and been stunned when fleeing from camp with his suddenly awakened and terrified companions.

Page 43

34 THE Just at that moment we heard a familiar call, and on turning round saw to our astonishment that it came from our companions, Dick and Billy, who were walking towards us from the lagoon about a hundred yards away. Billy’s face and hands, seen in the dark, seemed to be on fire, covered with leaping, greenish radiance. WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. outskirts of the camp, the ingenious black fellow took some wax matches and rubbed them energetically in his hands and then on to his face, the phosphorus from the matches leaving a curious, wavering light wherever it had been applied. He then crawled from his hiding-place down “WE HEARD A FAMILIAR CALL, AND ON TURNING ROUND SAW TO OUR ASTONISHMENT. THAT IT CAME FROM OUK COMPANIONS.” After a warm greeting a hurried explanation revealed the reason for the blacks having become panic-stricken. Our companions, as we now learned, had decided to return and help us when it was dark enough. ‘They came up to the camp at midnight, and by the light of the fires were able to sce how we were situated. “Billy Bung” had previously explained _ his intended plan of action to Dick, and so every- thing worked without a hitch. Reaching the to the edge of the lagoon, and commenced giving mournful, blood-curdling howls, at the same time showing his weirdly-glowing face and hands above the level of the water. ‘The super- stitious blacks, suspecting the close presence of the horrible “ Bunyip,” instantaneously became terror-stricken, and left the camp with the utmost haste, as already shown. No time was to be lost, so we turned our attention to the boy ~vho had been stunned, and

Page 44

IN SEARCH OF PEARLS. 35 found that he had almost revived from the fall. Billy suggested that we should keep him, on the chance of getting useful information about the country. This we did, and moved off towards the coast at once, keeping a sharp look-out for the blacks. We saw nothing of them, however, and reached the shore safely two nights later. Here we found Sin, the Chinaman, in a state bordering on collapse, brought about, no doubt, by the contemplation of his position; his pitiable condition had also been much aggra- vated by his breaking into our remaining stock of brandy and applying it internally with more freedom than wisdom. Poor fellow, his joy at our return to the ear? Queen was most touching. ‘ “ Billy Bung,” while on the return march to the coast, had been carefully questioning the captured lad, who gave us no trouble, and from him learned that the blacks in that district formerly kept watch on an- other boat that had been there a good few moons back. The boy was able to show us the exact spot where this boat had been stationed dur- ing the time it had been there. We had no doubt that it must have been the Ber- gier party, and felt that a very valuable clue as to where the fortune lay had been given us. This surmise proved to be correct, and we were at last happily rewarded by finding a very rich pearl-bed just off the spot shown us by the boy. ‘Two weeks later, a very happy party indeed, we commenced the return voyage to Brisbane with many valuable gems in our possession. Before leaving the pearl-bank we sent the black boy to whom we owed our good fortune back to his tribe with some little presents that greatly delighted his savage heart. Shortly after our arrival in Brisbane we sold the pearling rights of the bed for a sum which has made each one of us more or less independent for life. Since that time I have been travelling in different parts of the world and have lost track of the other members of that adventurous ex- pedition, with the exception of the “Admiral,” who, I hear, has considerably in- creased his for- tune by marriage andhas taken up yachtingasa pas- time, being now the commodore of an Australian yacht club. He, like the other members of our little syndicate, must surely bless the stroke of seeming dis- aster—our cap- ture by the blacks— which helped us to win a fortune. “THE BOY WAS ABLE To SHOW US THE EXACT SPOT WHERE THIS BOAT HAD BEEN STATIONED,”

Page 45

The Guardians of the Yukon. By F. R. Wari. An interesting article dealing with a remarkable body of men—the Royal North-West Mounted Police in the Yukon. Three hundred officers and men have made life and property in this wild region — five times as large as Great Britain—safer than in many a crowded city. Mr. Wall gives some account of the amazing multiplicity of the Yukon policeman’s duties, and striking instances of their dogged pertinacity and resource in hunting down criminals. J IMPLY and solely because of the Royal North-West Mounted Police, life and property are safer in the Yukon ‘Territory than in New York, Chicago, or, perhaps, any place in the United States. Scattered over the one hundred and ninety-seven thousand square miles of this territory, which extends from sixty degrees of north latitude to within twelve hundred miles of the North Pole, at Herschel Island, are about fifteen thousand whites and six thousand Indians and Esquimaux, all of whom depend upon the Mounted Police to pro- rao fa head-quarters are at Regina, in the North-West ‘Territory. The force in the Yukon is, however, operated as an entirely independent command, under an Assistant Commissioner stationed at Dawson. ‘The first Mounted Police were sent to the Yukon in the spring of 1894. Representations had been made to the Canadian Government by the Right Rev. Bishop Bompas that all that part of Canada lying north of British Columbia and west of the Mackenzie District was in urgent need of police protection. Acting on the Bishop’s statement Inspector Constantine and ~ GLACIER CREEK, ONE OF THE REMOTE “ DETACHMENTS" OF THE ‘N,W.M.P,” From a Vhoto, by Johnson, Dawson, Y.T. tect them in their goings and comings, and to make safe the gear and gold they may gather. This dependence, which has never been mis- placed, falls upon a force of barely three hundred men, all under military organization and discipline. ‘These form a part of the eight hundred who constitute the entire strength of the Royal North-West Mounted Police in Canada, commanded by a Commissioner, whose Sergeant Brown were sent from Regina to report on the conditions existing in the district desig- nated. The inspector’s report was that goods in large quantities were being brought into the Territory from the United States without paying duty ; that during the summer of 1894 at least three hundred thousand dollars in gold was taken out of the creeks running into Forty- Mile River on the (Canadian, ide, and that a

Page 46

THE GUARDIANS OF THE YUKON. 37 body of police was certainly required to enforce law and order and to collect the revenue. In June, 1895, therefore, twenty non-commissioned officers and men of the Mounted Police, under Inspector Constantine, were sent into the Yukon, and on July 24th, 1895, they established a post, called Fort Constantine, at the mouth of Forty Mile and there built the first barracks. On August 16th, 1896, the first discovery of gold was made in the Klondike country, on Bonanza Creek, a tributary to the Klondike River. News of that momentous discovery did not reach the “outside ”—in the Yukon “ out- side” means beyond the winter barriers of ice and snow; everything else is ‘inside ”—until after the freeze-up of that year, and, as all the world knows, it was not until the spring of 1897 that the great rush to the new Eldorado began. - The police force was at once increased, and it has continued to grow until it now numbers some three hundred officers and men, maintaining law and order and administering justice in a wild region nearly five times the size of Great Britain. There is a line of patrol kept up constantly between all of the detachments, widely scattered though they are and often separa- ted by wastes of wind-swept snow and ice-choked rivers. In summer the patrol is by canoe or horse, and in winter by dog team. The units of the force are made up as follows: two men, horses and guns ; two men, dog team and guns; two men, canoe and guns. When on horseback the policeman’s usual weapon is a modern ‘44 Colt; when he carries arifle it is a Ross. There is probably no more efficient police force in the world than this of the Yukon. When an offence is committed the motto of the “N.W.M.P.” is “Get the offender”; and it is ngidly lived up to, even if it be necessary to take the world with a fine tooth-comb in order to find the criminal. Some instances which have passed into the history of the Yukon will Serve to prove their tenacity and resource in the pursuit of law-breakers. Duty leads the members of the force to all STAFF-SERGEANT FRANK SMITH, SOME OF WHOSE ADVENTURES ARR HERE RELATED, From a Photo. by Adams & Co., Dawson, ¥.T. points in the Territory, and often far afield out- side. In 1901 two criminals, O’Brien and Graves, lay in wait on the Yukon and slew in cold blood Fred Clayson and L. Relfe, two miners who were bound for the “outside.” With the two travellers was Lineman Oleson, of the telegraph service, who met with the same fate as his companions. O’Brien was caught, convicted, and hanged; but before the police finished with the case it had cost them two hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. Ultimately they became satisfied that Graves was killed by O’Brien and his body put under the ice of the Yukon, but not till they were absolutely sure that death had placed the murderer beyond their reach did they abandon their quest. In the search for a wit- ness whose testimony was deemed important in the O’Brien case, Staff-Sergeant Frank Smith, then a cor- poral, started from Forty Mile with one companion, Seeley, and a dog team, on the 16th of April, rgor. The trail, which lay along the ice of the river, was at that time of the year soft and much cut up by horses, so that it was only after very hard work that they made Circle City on April 21st. Smith went on alone from Circle, leaving there on April 24th. About twenty-five miles away, at one of the open places in the trail, his dogs jumped over a four-feet drop into the water, and Smith was thrown violently against the sled and his right leg badly bruised below the knee. During the day the injured leg swelled to twice its normal size, but Smith pluckily “mushed” on to Fort Yukon, eighty- eight miles from Circle. When he got to Fort Yukon the limb was black and blue from knee to toe, but nevertheless, on the 29th and 3oth he made a journey of fifty miles to the mouth of Chandelar Creek and back to Fort Yukon —and this over a melting trail in warm weather, so that he and the dogs frequently broke through. Smith remained at Fort Yukon until the end of May, impatiently waiting for the ice in the Yukon to break up and drift towards the mouth. On the 23rd the ice in the main channel of the river broke and started to move.

Page 47

38 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. MEMBERS OF THE NORTH-WEST Mc From a Photo, by Govt The 27th saw Seeley at Fort Yukon, and on the next day at noon the two men started down the Yukon River in a twenty-foot canoe, in which they carried a tent, a small stove, a mast, a leg-of- mutton sail, and a full outfit of provisions. The great mass of ice was just ahead of them all the way down, drifting slowly out, although there was also plenty of it all around them. Keeping a close watch on the drifting cakes, the two sailed when there was a fair wind, and pulled with the current when the wind was against them, As the river widens out to six, eight, and sometimes ten miles as its mouth is neared, and as they encountered many strong head winds with heavy seas, they were practically at sea in their frail craft during the latter half of their journey. ‘The mouth of the river was reached on the 17th June, and the next day at noon a start was made for St. Michael’s, ninety miles away, through a bay full of ice-floes. Most of this distance was made by dragging or pulling the canoe with a harness. The weather during all of the time was cold, foggy, and rainy, such as usually prevails at the mouth of the Yukon at that time of the year. Often the travellers would go down through a soft spot in the ice up to the waist or neck in the bitter cold water. For three NTED POLICE IN WINTER COSTUME. an, Dawson, ¥.T. days they were without fresh water to drink and had to depend upon tea made from the brackish water of Bering Sea, while all the time there was great danger of an off-shore breeze springing up and taking them out to sea. On June 23rd the Port of St. Michael’s, such as it is, was made in safety by Smith, Seeley having gone overland the day before. They had come a distance of fully seventeen hundred miles, thirteen hundred of which they had made in the canoe. Every spot along the route that showed signs of human habitation had been visited, and they had trailed their man all the way. At St. Michael’s Smith found the fugitive had gone to Nome and there taken steamer for Seattle, to which place Smith followed him tirelessly. He could easily have secured him as a witness, but by the time the sergeant arrived in Seattle the murderer O’Brien had been convicted without the long- sought testimony. Another long-distance run made by the police was the trip to Fort McPherson and back, a distance of nearly a thousand miles, in the dead of winter. It was desired to communicate with Herschel Island, where the police keep a station in the highest latitude, seventy degrees north, to prevent whalers from,selling liquor to the Indians,

Page 48

THE GUARDIANS OF THE YUKON. 39 There had been frequent reports brought in by the Indians that there was a shorter route through the Rocky Mountains to Fort McPherson than that usually followed from Edmonton down the Mackenzie River. Three of the crack “ mushers” of the force—Constables Mapley, Dever, and Rowley—were selected for the long journey, and started out on December 27th, 1904, with two Indian scouts, one of whom had been over the route nine years before. Each Indian took a team of five dogs, as did each member of the force. ‘The dogs chosen by the police were the private property of Sergeant Smith, “buskies ” of Porcupine Creek. So carefully had they been trained and bred that they were the pride of all the Yukon for speed and staying qualities. Each dog weighed from ninety-six to a hundred and fifteen pounds. As there was no beaten track to follow, it was a case of break trail all the way, so each man wore snow-shoes and each dog-team was hitched up to a toboggan instead of to a sled. Fur robes, mail, guns, ammunition, and food for man and beast made the whole of the cargo. A tent and stove were among the outfit at the start, but they were “cachéd” after the first hundred miles out. This run across the top of the world was a succession of arduous experiences described by one of the party as “Chute, chute, chute; then climb a mile of inountain — stand- ing on end.” In shooting the glis- sades the dogs would be unhar- nessed, the best route down the mountain would be picked out with the eye, and the toboggan and its precious load would then be sent alone on the downward jour- ney. It is a fact, although it seems Wwell-nigh impos- sible, that — this difficult trip to Fort McPherson and back, across a virgin and practically unex- plored wilderness, was made without a single acci- dent, except that one of the dogs injured a leg and had to be shot. The party was thirty-eight days in making the Fort, and twenty-five days in coming back to Dawson. ‘They found a feasible “cut-off” through the Rocky Mountains at Seela Pass; and asa result of the expedition it has been From a Photo. VICTOR FOURNIER AND EDOUARD LA RELLE—THE MEN WERE MURDERERS, AND LA BELLE WAS TRAILED FOR THOUSANDS OF MILES ERE HE WAS not long FOUND AND ARRESTED. o dy Goetsman, Dawson, decided to annex that part of the Mackenzie district, including Fort McPherson, to the Yukon and to make Dawson the head-quarters. There have been few cases in the Yukon ‘Territory of serious crimes against persons ; but in every such case there has been an arrest and the guilty have been punished. ‘There has been no murder done since the locally notorious triple murder committed in June, 1902, by Victor Fournier and Edouard La Belle. Briefly, this is the history of their crime. They were both French-Canadians; Fournier had for fifteen years led a life of crime, but La Belle, who was of good parentage, had probably lived within the law until he met Fournier two or three years before the murders. In the spring of 1902 both men, who were then “tin-horn ” gamblers, found themselves in Dawson “broke” and unable to raise money. They therefore planned to go up the Yukon River to White Horse, meet passengers at the end of the railway there, engage to take a party of them down river to Dawson in a small boat, and murder them on the way down, In pursuance of this villainous scheme they met and became acquainted with three of their own countrymen—Leon Bouthilette, Guy Joseph Beaudoin, and Alphonse Constantine. ‘These they agreed to carry down the river for a price that seemed to make the trip worth while. On the way down, while in camp a short dis- tance below the mouth of Stewart River, La Belle, with the greatest deliberation and cruelty, took up his rifle and killed Constantine and Beaudoin. — Four- nier, with equal callousness, ended the life of Bou- thilette. It was before the bodies of Beaudoin and Bouthilette were given up by the river, into which they had been thrown, and identified. Constantine’s body was not recovered and identified till two years later. It was not a great while, under the police system of keeping track of travellers in the Yukon, before the names of the five men who had left White Horse in a small boat, and

Page 49

40 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. who had never arrived anywhere, were ascer- tained. It was discovered that two of the persons in the boat had travelled under assumed names, and descriptions were in the possession of the police of the two carrying the assumed names. One description was found to fit Fournier, and the other, it was thought, fitted La Belle. Fournier, who had remained in the ‘Territory, was located in Dawson, where the police could put their hands on him whenever they decided to take him into custody: but all that could be learned of the man thought to be La Belle was that a person answering to this description had passed through White Horse about July 16th, probably bound for the “ outside.” The problem then pre- sented was a pretty one in man-hunting. None of the police knew that Edouard La Belle was the criminal wanted, although there were ex- cellent reasons to believe he was ; the man answer- ing to La Belle’s descrip- tion had had time to get thousands of miles away from the scene of the crime. Yet Detective W. H. Welsh, in charge of the secret service of the force, cheerfully took up the difficult task of finding the man answer- ing to this description. He was given carte blanche as to expenses, and simply told to “ get the man.” It was a hunt in which there was often nothing but the instinct of the trailer to guide him. In fiction the detective - author knows his goal from the beginning, but in real life a man- hunter is satisfied if there is a jail for the criminal at the end. The author never doubts, but in real life the detective’s ears are assailed by a thousand conflicting facts and theories. Unless he seizes and follows the right clue, he travels far into the land of delusion and failure. How success crowned efforts in this particular case is worth outlining. Welsh left Dawson on July 26th, and reached Seattle on August 8th, having made careful inquiries at every stopping-place along the way. After arriving in Seattle Welsh found himself confronted with the descriptions of swo Edward DETECTIVE W. H. WELSH, WHO ARRESTED LA HELLE. Front a Photo. by Adams & Co., Dawson. La Belles, both of whom had been in Seattle shortly before his arrival there, and the descrip- tions of whom tallied fairly well in every respect with his information, save in the matter of height. Another unusual coincidence was that one of these La Belles was actually known to have operated as a criminal with Victor Fournier in Chicago, IIL, in 1889. The problem that now confronted Welsh was to eliminate one of these La Belles, and, after much thought, he decided that the right one had been last seen in Seattle about the 18th of August. On August 17th the detective was joined by P. A. Rook, of White Horse, who had known La Belle and was positive he could identify him. A search was then made at nearly every logging camp tributary to Puget Sound, as La Belle had worked in the Yukon as a wood- chopper, but no trace of him was found. During the latter part of August Welsh, still in quest of his man, met Joseph Dalpé, with whom he had mined in the Yukon. This man knew La Belle and had seen him on August 1st, when La Belle had said he was going East. From Dalpé Welsh got a further clue, which enabled him to follow La Belle’s _ trail unerringly from Seatile to Butte, Montana. Dalpé told of a Yukon miner’s badge—a miner’s pan with a pick and shovel crossed—worn in the lapel of La Belle’s coat; and Welsh was also informed from Dawson that La Belle had probably headed for Butte, so on August 27th he and Rock set off East, hot on the trail. At Spokane, Washington, they learned that their man had gone to Rossland, B.C., and from Rossland they followed him to Nelson, and from there to Missoula and Butte. At Butte all traces of the badge disappeared, and the only clue that remained was that La Belle had been sent out of Butte to the southward with one of the many construction gangs work- ing on the Southern Pacific Railway. There~ was nothing much left but to follow instinct, as these gangs had been shipped to a number of

Page 50

THE GUARDIANS OF THE YUKON. 4t TIN From a Photo. by) small stations on the Southern Pacific. So Welsh and Rook went on to Ogden, Utah, and there took tickets to Wadsworth, Nevada, near the Californian line, intending, if nothing was found, to “work” every station along the line until they struck the right one. different construction camps in the vicinity of Wadsworth were then begun. At each camp visited Rook appeared in the character of a timekeeper newly employed for the camp. It was agreed that Rook would go through each camp and, as timekeeper, take the names of all the men. If he found La Belle he was to give Welsh a prearranged signal. Four camps were visited in this way without any success, but at the fifth, about three miles from Wadsworth, Rook came out of one tent and indicated that the long-sought man was inside. As Welsh passed Rook on the way into the tent Rook muttered, “ He is in that tent; I am certain it is him!” - Welsh went in and found several other men in the tent with La Belle, whose face he at once recognized as a familiar one that he had seen in the streets of Dawson. La Belle was sitting on the side of his bunk, having just turned out to go to work on the night shift. The detective walked up to him, held out his hand as if to shake hands, and said, “‘ Howdo you do?” ~ As La Belle reached out his hand Welsh snapped a handcuff on the wrist and sternly ordered him to put out the other hand, which the murderer quietly did. He admitted that his name was Edouard La Belle, although he was working at the camp under the name of ‘“L. Stone.” When asked if he knew Rook he said, “ Yes ; I guess he is the man who sold me the gun.” Vol. xviii. —6. GENTRY WITHIN THEIR TE Visits to the. TH Welsh and Rook got away to Wadsworth with their man as soon as possible, and within an hour after his arrest La Belle had confessed to Welsh nearly all the facts of the murder—where it had been committed and the number of persons killed. He said, however, that it was Fournier who did all the shooting. La Belle also signed a rather unusual, although perfectly legal, document with Welsh, wherein the prisoner voluntarily agreed to accompany the detective to Dawson without extradition proceedings, in consideration of the detective turning him over to the authorities in Dawson and paying all travelling expenses. They kept to their agree- ments, and La Belle was landed in Dawson on the 14th September, 1902. Both Fournier and La Belle made full con- fessions, and were hanged from the same scaffold on the zoth January, 1903. The case, from beginning to end, cost the Government less than twenty-five thousand dollars. The confessions included the facts of the murder of . a fourth man, A. Gilbaut, on the American side of the line down the Yukon River. The manner of the commission of the triple murder, as con- fessed, ‘was this: While in camp, on what is now grimly known as “ Murder Island,” Constantine _ got up in the early morning and went out of the tent to cook breakfast. La Belle followed and shot him from behind, using a rifle. La Belle then quietly returned to the tent and said he had shot at a rabbit, but missed. Beaudoin then went out to the rear of the tent to wash, and while washing he was shot in the back of the head by La Belle, who had followed him. When Beaudoin was shot Bouthilette raised the flap of the tent and looked out. As he did so Fournier

Page 51

42 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. drew his revolver and shot him in the body, the bullet entering the right side of the back and coming out of the left. As Bouthilette fell Vournier fired again, but missed. He then ran up to his victim, who was rolling on the ground, and shot him twice in the side of the head, killing him at once. Although the quest for wealth attracted to the country, besides many law-abiding persons, criminals from all parts of the world, yet serious offences are and have been wondrously few. In 1903 two thousand two hundred and twenty- seven cases were heard before the Police Magistrate in Vancouver, B.C., a place of about twenty-five thousand inhabitants, while during the same time, among the twenty-one thousand inhabitants scattered over the whole of the Yukon, the offences entered were nine hundred and twenty-two, and sixty-eight per cent of these cases resulted in convictions. ‘Ihe popular feel- ing towards the force is well summed-up in the language of one of the “Sourdoughs” (old- timers) of the country, who said, in regard to MOUNTED the criminals in that district: “The police certainly do throw the fear of God into ’em.” Perhaps it is more the fear of that picturesque bit of colour made up of the man in the cow- boy hat, bright red shirt, and blue trousers with the broad yellow stripe running down them, and disappearing in the high laced boots—the policeman. Naturally the word “policeman” suggests only the idea of one whose duty it is to preserve law and order. But performing such functions has been only a comparatively small part of the work that has fallen to the Royal North-West Mounted Police in the Yukon Territory. Kipling’s “ soldier and sailor too” was a highly- specialized expert in comparison with this handy man of the Far North. Literally, there is not a Government “ job on the top of the earth that the beggar don’t know, and do.” _ For instance, a number of them are still postmasters at out- lying stations; and perhaps the most popular work they ever did was when, during the winter of 1898-99, they carried the mail through from Skagway to Dawson and distributed it to the “ Creeks” (mining camps) along the way. Even to-day they act as the mail-carriers “ Creeks,” between many points on the During 1897 and 1898, and well into 1899, the police collected the revenue at both Summits—White and Chilcoot--and till 1900 constables collected the duty at the POLICE IN SUMMER UNIFORM. froma boundary-posts on the Stikine and also assisted the Custom-house officers at Glenora. Since the spring of 1898 they have collected all the duties on the Dalton Trail, and at the summit of the White Pass a constable is stationed to assist the Custom-house officials, while trips are frequently made to points on the boundary to prevent smuggling. Police collect the export [ a | Ls

Page 52

THE GUARDIANS OF THE YUKON. 43 tax on gold at various points, 9nd a man in the familiar uniform is not infrequently to be found as operator at a telegraph’ station, while it is usual for the police to assist the line- repairer in summer and winter. As there is only one lineman at each station it would be unsafe for him to travel without a companion during the cold weather, it being a rigid rule with all Government employés that no one SS 3 TO START ON A TWO-HUNDRED-MILE “ MUSH. Yet this is not all. The various detachments act as deputies for the Crown timber and land agent, collecting revenues from the wood and timber camps, and forwarding the money to the agencies ; they serve Court processes for the ‘Territorial Court and act as bailiffs ; the Chief of Police of Dawson, Staff-Sergeant Frank Smith, is also sanitary officer of the town; and they act as returning officers and polling clerks at Rae rs —¥ : = as IN THE DEPTH OF WINTER. From a Phota must “ mush ” (travel) alone while King Winter holds all things in his icy grip. The commissioned officers of the force are the only active Justices of the Peace in the Territory, and adjudicate in all cases not tried by the police magistrates at Dawson and White Horse. Monthly tours are made to every station in the Territory for the purpose of holding Court, and the inspector takes it as all in the day’s work when he has to “mush” with a dog- team fifty or sixty miles a day with the thermo- meter sometimes sixty or seventy degrees lelow zero, to hold his Court at a place two hundred miles from his starting-point. As a justice, the inspector acts as a committing Magistrate in most felony cases, although he has special power given him to act as trial judge in certain cases, in which he may inflict a maximum punishment of fourteen years in the penitentiary. Wherever he holds Court his jurisdiction ex- tends to all misdemeanours, and in such offences a non-commissioned officer of this ubiquitous force acts as Prosecutor for the Crown. His knowledge of the law, moreover, serves him in all “Crowner’s Quests,” for he holds inquests in all cases of sudden death, and inquires into accidents. elections. In 1898 the police took a census of the Territory, and in 1g0o assisted the regular Commissioner in the same work. During the smallpox scares in 1900 and 1902 they enforced the quarantine and assisted the staff of doctors appointed as public vaccinators by the Govern- ment in seeing that every person in the camps was vaccinated. Besides this the veterinary staff-sergeants of the force act as agents of the Department of Agriculture in enforcing the Animals’ Contagious Diseases Act, while the officer commanding the force in the Yukon Territory is registrar of births, marriages, and deaths, and has the assistance of his detachments in keeping a correct record of vital statistics. In addition to the foregoing truly monu- mental list of duties, the police carry on, of course, their regular patrol work, visit the outly- ing districts, see that sick and destitute miners on the ‘‘Creeks ” are properly cared for, maintain a general supervision of the Indians and look out for such as may become destitute, keep track of criminals, guard convicts, care for lunatics, look up missing persons, and do a few other etceteras—and all at an average cost of half a million dollars a year !

Page 53

The Adventures of a Miniature “Strong Man.” By Smaun Sine Hpoo. In the following article, Smaun Sing Hpoo—‘ the smallest perfectly-formed man in the world'’—tells readers of ‘‘The Wide World Magazine” the story of his life, and relates many amusing and exciting incidents in his career. Little Sing Hpoo is only thirty-four inches high, but he is a perfect athlete in miniature, and, in proportion to his size, is almost as finely developed as Hackenschmidt or Sandow. He is twenty-three years of age, and is the brightest, happiest little person imaginable. In the light of subsequent experiences, I can- not conceive how I managed to kill time in those days, for the very thought of them now inspires me with a feeling of fearful exaui; but I suppose I knew no better then. At any rate, I lived a JONG, long ago—it seems ages, WZ | although it is in reality only twelve | H >) years—I lived with my father and (7B) mother, who were “normal-sized " people, in a hut right in the midst of the wilds of Burma. In a dim, shadowy way, I remember high grass, thick jungle, and tall, waving trees, while around me were brown men and women, of whose personality I can recall nothing now. Of my pleasures and sorrows in those days I can there till I was ten years old, quite happily, until one eventful day when a kindly white man came along. The stranger was so struck with my diminutive size—I was barely two feet high— that he persuaded my parents to allow him to adopt me. * From that moment the pictures of my past are indelibly fixed in my memory. My uncle, for such I have always called him, was a genial sea-captain, full of love and kindness, who had knocked about the world in every quarter. From the moment we made each other’s acquaintance there sprang up between us a feeling of deep attachment, which has grown day by day as the years have gone by. remember very little, but my chief delight—of this I have some distinct recollection —lay in observing the brightly-coloured birds and insects which abounded. How well I remem- ber the first time I ever saw civilization ! The strange costumes, the massive houses, the quaint, _brightl§- coloured dresses and many - hued faces of a cosmopolitan Indian town seemed like a new world to me, and as I became ac- customed to my new life I began to realize how much Thad gained by leaving the solitudes of my primi- tive home in the jungle for this new and delightful — exist- ence. “THE STRANGER WAS SO STRUCK WITH MY DIMINUTIVE SIZE THAT HE PERSUADED MY PARENTS TO ALLOW HIM TO ADUPT ME."

Page 54

THE ADVENTURES OF A MINIATURE “STRONG MAN.” 45 During the first two years of my new life I remained in India, and by the end of that time I had forgotten the very sound of my native language, and could speak German, my? “uncle’s” native tongue, quite fluently. I had begun to grow a little, also, especially since I had commenced to use my arms for swinging from the backs of chairs, or from anything I could reach. My fondness for little exercises of this kind was so marked that a set of small rings and a tiny horizon- tal bar were made for [poy me and I began todo | 7 regular practice upon et yes them, which gradually F developed my muscles = until they reached pro- 3 aoe portions which in a +s normal man would be most unusual. We now left India and crossed to Europe, where I obtained engagements to appear at theatres in various countries. Since that time I have been constantly before the public, not merely as a midget, but as a minia- ture strong man and gymnast. As time went on so my education continued. From being constantly in France, I learned to speak the language of that country almost as fluently as German ; and English, a necessity to every ie ay = abate he eo Rica aera p Seis Pat a eS PES Voray ieee rey MR Pt asda) ad traveller, was soon quite |_ familiar to me. fe. an. ae Apart from the ex- citement of various big successes as an enter- tainer, my theatrical career has been an eventful one. For some years I travelled with Miss Loie Fuller, of whom I am still a great friend and admirer, but most of the time I have been touring on my own account. My constant appear- ances at the various cities we have visited have won for me acquaintances and friends among all sorts and conditions of men and women. Out of theatrical hours I mix with my fellow- men like an ordinary mortal. I remember once, a year or two back, creating quite a scene at the tables at Monte Carlo, by bringing off seven Consecutive coups on the red. When I had left my stake down for the fourth consecutive time an immense crowd collected round me, and SMAUN SING HPOO AND HIS GERMAN ‘‘ UNCLE.” From a Photo. by O. Sarony & Co. nearly all the other gamblers followed my lead, until the bank was in quite a precarious con- dition. After the seventh win, when my stakes had increased to a very large sum indeed, a lady at the other end of the table moved hurriedly opposite to me and placed her last remaining louis against my pile. She was pale and trembling with excitement, and when the croupier swept the little heap of gold from the table such an expression of despair came into her eyes that I instinctively foresaw, I think, the tragedy that happened shortly after- wards. I have never played at the tables since that day, nor has the pale face of my beautiful vis-a-vis been quite obliterated from my mind. You have no idea how much I enjoy my life. If you think that for one moment I regret being small you are quite mis- taken. I am so well looked after, and so kindly treated, that all my needs are supplied, and everything I want to do is done for me before I have time to realize that I could not do it myself. I am_ exceed- ingly fond of my profes- sion, and get on very well with all with whom I am associated. I am never so happy as when I am before the audience, and if by some trick, more surprising than the rest, I can win heartier applause than has been accorded to any other “turn,” my heart swells with pride. Naturally I have met with many amusing and exciting adventures in the course of my travels. I remember, for instance, very vividly, an incident which. occurred at. Nice during one of my visits there a year or two ago, and which led to my literally “bringing the house down” with quite an impromptu performance, which was the more appreciated by the audience on account of its entire unexpectedness. I had for some time had the pleasure of knowing and very much admiring a singer who appeared at Covent Garden last season, and who, at the time of which I am writing, was on the point of making her very first bow to the public.

Page 55

46 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. to get along, and I hastened round to the stage-door, through which I passed, unseen by the porter, whose little ‘ window was some way above my head. lortunately, there was no one else about, for a heavy change of scenery was about to be made, and all hands were upon the stage. Panting for breath through my exertions, I found my way to the wings, and staggered on to the stage in full view of the audience before any- one could stop me. All the people could see, I imagine, was a huge basket of roses with a tiny pair of legs underneath, so you may imagine the intense astonishment which prevailed when I set my offering down at the feet of the singer and made her my best bow. The cheers which filled the theatre were simply deafening. | Again and again the curtain had to be raised to disclose us standing hand in hand, and when at last we were per- mitted to retire it was only, I am sure, because the audience was too hoarse “ALL THE PEOPLE COULD SFE, I IMAGINE, WAS A HUGE BASKET OF ROSES WITIL A TINY PAlk OF LEGS UNDERNEATH THEM.” Upon the evening when she made her début I determined that I would present her with a - bouquet. Accordingly, when I went to the theatre, I provided myself with a huge basket of exquisite pink roses. My intention was to create a mild sensation by presenting my tribute personally from the front of the stage, but the audience was so enthusiastic and so numerous that, between lack of opportunity and neryous- ness, the time went slipping by, and the lady had almost finished her song before I hit upon a plan of action. As you may imagine, my basket of flowers was actually bigger than myself—in fact, it was all I could do to carry it. By putting my arms round it, however, and looking through the roses to where I was going, I just managed to call for our return. Another exploit of mine, the scene of which was laid in America, and about which there was an element of excitement and danger that I should not care to see repeated, occurred at a town where I was ap- pearing for one week while touring the States. ‘The entertainment was a variety one, and the “turn” which preceded mine consisted of some performing dogs, one of which had been trained to jump through a burning hoop. I am exceedingly fond of animals, and while the dogs were finishing their performance I used to wait in the wings to pat and fondle them as they ran off the stage. One night, as the dog jumping through the lighted hoop was about to perform this trick, and just before the hoop was lighted, some of the oil into which it had been dipped dropped on to the dog’s coat. Although I noticed this I did not appreciate the animal’s danger until, in jumping through the flames, his coat suddenly ignited and he speedily became a mass of fire. Without a moment's hesitation I pulled off Google Digitize

Page 56

THE ADVENTURES OF A MINIATURE “STRONG MAN.” 47 my coat, and as, mad with pain and fear, the poor dog rushed about the stage, I literally flung myself upon him and we rolled over and over upon the floor. By exerting all my strength I “WITHOUT A MOMLNT'S HESITATION I PULLED OFF MY COAT.” managed to keép my coat round him, in spite of his strugules, and was successful in extinguish- ing the flames and in saving his life, for, although badly burned, he eventually recovered. When I got up from the floor I was so bruised and stunned—for the dog was con- siderably bigger and heavier than myself— that I could not at first understand what was the meaning of the roaring noise which filled my ears. When I thoroughly regained thy senses, however, I perceived that it came from hundreds of human throats. So instantaneous was my success from that moment that I was forced to re-arrange my tour, so as to prolong my visit to the States for three weeks further, and there was hever a performance during thé rest of the time at which a single empty seat was to be seen, or at which the audience failed to call me before the curtain at least half-a-dozen limes. The next adventure which I shall mention to you was of a very amusing nature. I Was performing at a hall in Berlin, and the ‘um which preceded mine consisted of a short domestic sketch in which the husband was played by a very big man whose wife was always complaining that she had to stand on a chair every time she wanted to kiss him. As the plot was unfolded it appeared that the husband had been making love to an- other lady, and the discovery of this gave rise to a mono- logue on the part of the woman, during the course of which the truant husband entered and explained very easily that all her suspicions were groundless. ‘The usual happy ending followed. ‘The manager at the theatre was particularly strict about the audience not being kept waiting between “turns.” As soon as the curtain was lowered on one item the next must be ready. This evening the call-boy, who had been reading some en- trancing story in a weekly paper, mistook the stage at which the turn previous to mine had arrived, and ran to my dressing- room to inform me that the curtain was up, and that the audience were being kept waiting for my appearance. All unconscious of his error, I hurried on. The monologue was in full progress. The lady—as I discovered later—had spent five minutes bemoaning her fate and in heaping

Page 57

48 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. reproaches upon her spouse. “ Whatever reparation you made,” she hissed, between clenched teeth, “ you could never make up now for the wrong you have done me. Never again will you fill the same place in my heart. I utterly hate and despise you. You have grown so small in my eyes and in my estimation——” Just at this instant, breathless with my haste to get on to the stage and not displease the supposedly unfaithful mysterious but, I was convinced, beautiful girl. The note was quite a short one. It expressed great admiration for me and a desire that, “if there was any affection in my nature,” I would wear one of the blossoms in my coat when I came on to the stage the following evening. With a beating heart, and with the flower duly pinned in my buttonhole, I made my appearance on the stage next evening and glanced quickly at the box. Someone was there behind the curtain again. Now and then I From a) manager by keeping the audience waiting, I rushed on to the scene, and you may guess what thunders of applause and merriment greeted this fitting fizale to the lady’s speech. A year or two before the incident just described, Berlin was also the scene of an amusing experience of mine. My heart, I must tell you, is very susceptible to feminine charms, but my love affairs up to date have never come to any satisfactory ending. Indeed, upon the very first occasion when I fancied I was smitten with a lady’s charms, I was made to look so foolish that I have ever since been yery careful about bestowing my affections. At that time I was nightly perform- ing at one of the leading theatres in the German capital, and was immensely surprised one evening to find awaiting me in my dressing-room a most beautiful basket of flowers with the sweetest little billet-doux hidden among the blossoms. For several evenings I had been conscious of the ardent gaze of a pair of sweet blue eyes which peeped from behind the curtains of a box on the right of the stage. Over and over again I had striven to gain a sight of their owner’s face without success, and as I tremblingly tore open the note I connected -it instinctively with this SMAUN SING HPOO PLAYING BILLIARDS, (Photo. caught a glimpse of those same smiling blue eyes, but, try as I would, no other part of the- face could I see. Night after night for four consecutive days the same thing went on. Each evening, as my flower was dead, I pur- chased an exactly similar one with a view to so pleasing my mysterious lady friend that she might let me see her face. At length the strain grew too much for me. I cpuld not sleep properly at nights; my appetite, like that of other lovers, dwindled almost to nothing, and I exhibited so many of the signs which accompany the tender passion that my friends grew alarmed at my haggard ‘appearance, and begged me to tell them what was the matter. That evening the blue eyes were there as usual, and, acting upon a preconcerted plan, the moment I left the stage I hurried up to the door of the box and pushed it open, hardly able to breathe, so excited was I. It was quite a minute before I realized that the person in the box was an ancient and ill-favoured caretaker who was waiting till the show was over in order to dust and cover up the seats ! So far I have dealt almost entirely with the lighter side of my adventures, but there have been many other incidents in my career upon

Page 58

THE ADVENTURES OF A MINIATURE “STRONG MAN.” 49 which I look back with far different feelings. In a general way I do not at all mind being small, because there are many things from which ordinary-sized people derive pleasure that I am able to indulge in, such as motoring, going to the races, theatres, and so on. But there have been times when my diminutive stature has almost cost me my life. As you -may easily imagine, a little person barely three feet high is likely to come off pretty badly in a panic ; yet on two occasions I have been fortu- nate enough to escape without injury where many others were severely hurt. Some years ago I was performing at a town in Germany when the scenery in the wings of the theatre caught fire. I was on the stage at the time, and was the last to realize that any- thing was amiss, since the smoke came from behind me and the glare of the foot- lights prevented my seeing at once the signs of alarm among the audience. When at last it dawned upon me what was the matter, the flames had got such a hold- of the woodwork at the back of the stage that I was fear- ful to go that way, while my size made it very danger- ous for me to climb down over the orchestra. If I adopted this course I was afraid, in dropping down, that I might break my leg, and be prevented from escap- ing before the flames over- came me. Fortunately, my dear uncle, who had left the theatre to post a_ letter, tushed back the moment he heard that there was a fire, and, making his way through the blinding smoke, climbed over the front of the stage, and then lifted me down in his arms and bore me into the terrified crowd which was surging out at the exits. But for his timely assistance I do not see how I could have escaped, for every member of the audience was much too busy looking after his or her indi- vidual self to give even a thought to the little person whose efforts had been entertaining them but a few minutes earlier. The other adventure to which I have referred was, if possible, even more terrifying, while the fact that the incident happened only last year makes it even fresher in my memory. We were Vol. xviti—7, touring in America, and one of the contracts I had to fulfil was at a variety entertainment, where there were several performing elephants. Even to the ordinary person an elephant must seem a very large animal, but from my point of view it is simply immense! The particular elephants to which I am referring were stabled about a quarter of a mile from the theatre, and were driven through the streets each evening just in time to arrive punctually for their turn, which happened to come about half an hour later than my own. One night something occurred on the road to frighten the largest of the troop. His fear “MY UNCLE RUSHED BACK THE MOMENT HE HEARD THERE WAS A FIRE.” proved infectious, and before the men in charge could stir a finger, all three elephants started running pell-mell down the road.’ As luck would have it they came straight towards the theatre, which I happened to have left a few minutes earlier on my homeward way, and as my uncle and I turned the corner we suddenly found ourselves face to face with the mad beasts as they continued their headlong career. ‘The shrieks of the people in the street had so excited our curiosity that we had started to run forward round the corner in order to catch a glimpse of what was passing. Although I am small, I can

Page 59

50 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. run fairly fast, I assure you, and I quite out- stripped my uncle, and was now all by myself right in the path of the leading elephant, who came charging down upon me like a veritable avalanche. I was so petrified with sudden terror that I However, all's well that ends well. With tears in his eyes my uncle picked me up and bore me hurriedly to a neighbouring house, where I soon revived and found that I had sustained no serious injury at all, although the fright upset me so much that I “1 WAS NOW IN THI PATH OF THR LEADING ELEVHANT, WHO CAME CHARGING DOWN UPON ME LIKE A VERITARLE AVALANCHE. stood stock-still - a proceeding which undoubt- edly saved my life. The foremost elephant was the only one in whose path I directly stood. ‘Trumpeting wildly, he was right on the top of me before I had time to summon any presence of mind to my assistance, and I felt the air swish by my face as his ponderous forelegs swung by me, for I passed right between them. With his back legs I was not so fortunate, for one of them struck me and knocked me sense- less on to the road. was unable to appear in public for the next day or two, T have had many other adventures which I could relate to you if space permitted, but I think those about which I have already told you will be sufficient to show that although I may be the smallest man on earth, my career has been by no means an uneventful one, and that I have had more exciting and interesting ex- periences than are vouchsafed to many ordinary mortals.

Page 60

MY TOUR THROUGH JAVA. By Lapy Lawson, Java has been called ‘the Paradise of the East,” yet it is seldom visited by English - speaking travellers. Lady Lawson journeyed unattended from end to end of the island, and here narrates her experiences, illustrating her chatty descriptions with her own photographs. the greenest and most beautiful spot in the East, is so little visited by English - speaking travellers, and doubtless this is due to the absence of efficient guides and travelling servants, and also to the want of a Murray or Baedcker to light the tourist’s way. During the four weeks of my stay I met only one English visitor ; and yet a lady may travel unattended, as I did, from one end of the island to the other, in perfect safety, meeting with no- thing but deferential courtesy from the refined and gentle Javanese. The most convenient Starting - point for this “Garden of the East” is Singapore, and from that cosmopolitan port the four days’ voyage in the heart of the tropics, across equatorial seas to Soerabaja, is a pleasant one, the Dutch steamers being small but comfort- able. The traveller quickly realizes that he is no longer under the British flag, for all the arrange- ments on board are dis- linctly Dutch, especially the bath-rooms. ‘These contain nothing but a cistern with a tap, and a dipper with which one is expected to ladle the water out and dash it over one’s self in homceopathic doses—a most unsatisfactory process and not to be compared with the good old English “tub” and plenty of soap and water. At twelve o’clock the solemn function of the day, the “rice-table,” is served in all its detail. This rijsttafel may be described as a “ Lord- From a) A JAVANESE " MATIN&E HAT —IT MEASURED THKEFR FEET Across | (Photo. Mayor’s-Banquet-all-on-one-dish,” the foundation consisting of boiled rice in a soup-plate. On the top of this is heaped everything that one selects from about twenty dishes offered by as many servants in single file; and pieces of fish, chicken, beef, duck, onions, bananas, radishes, and omelette soon rise in a con- glomerate mass on the rice-¢ad/e below. Over this is poured a thin curry mixture; then the conventional chutneys, peppers, cocoa-nut, and spices are added ; and, after mixing this amazing compound thoroughly, it is eaten with a spoon. It would be a distinct improvement if this wonderful dish could be eaten hot, as it takes some time to serve, and the adoption of hot-water plates would be welcomed. One inight well suppose that, having negotiated this Gargantuan course, our fellow - passengers would “rest from their labours,” but the midday meal is not brought to a close until dzefsuk, vegetables, a salad, fruit, and coffee have also been served. After this very ‘square ” meal, it is hardly surpris- ing that everyone dons a négligé and indulges in a nap either on deck or in the cabins. At Soerabaja, the Liverpool of Java, I saw for the first time the startling deshadz//le which the Dutch adopt in the tropics, for in the hotel verandas distinguished officials were to be seen lounging in pyjamas and bath slippers, while ladies, minus stockings, clad only in the native sarong or skirt, and a small white jacket (aéaya) walked about the public streets unconcernedly.

Page 61

52 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a) THE AUTHORESS IN A NATIVE SEDAN-CHAIR. The vanity of Dutch meezouzes must be non- existent below the Equator, or they would never allow themselves to be seen in such an unbe- coming and ungraceful undress, which not even the stifling heat of Soerabaja and Batavia can excuse. At five o’clock tea and a bath refresh the inner and outer man (and woman), and every- one dresses in the latest finery from the Hague, and goes out visiting and driving until the nine o'clock dinner. The principal business of the visitor at Soerabaja is to get a passport from the Dutch Government with permission to travel in the interior, and after this is obtained, through the good offices of the British Consul, one can start for Tosari and the Bromo volcano, the great point of attraction in East Java. The journey is made by rail (three hours) to Pas- soeroewan, a pretty town on the coast opposite the island of Madura, and from there a drive of two hours in a Sikar peer (East Java cart) along a beautiful road shaded by tamarind and waringen trees brings us to the village of Paserpan at the foot of the hills. Here we change into a sadoh or open cart drawn by three ponies, in which we ascend the mountain as far as Poespo, where the night is spent. I shall A TYPICAL JAVANESE HOUSE, SHOWING THE ORN From a Photo. “4 never forget that weird drive in the darkness through the unknown tropical forest, the fire-flies glowing like young stars, and vivid light- ning playing all round. Next morning ponies were ready at eight o'clock, and we entered the picturesque forest, the rough path- way ascending through it by steep zigzags. Lovely glimpses of the Strait of Madura were seen through the trees, and gradually the vegeta- tion became less tropical and more European in character. Coffee bushes, covered with red berries and white flowers, commenced at about four thousand feet elevation, and continued, mixed with the tjemara tree (casuarina), until Tosari was [/%or. reached; while in the fields Euro- pean vegetables, such as potatoes, cabbages, maize, and onions, were under cultivation. Tosari, the Government sanatorium for inva- lided officials, is situated on one of the sharp spurs of the Tengger, over five thousand feet above the sea, and commands one of the finest views in Java, with fertile plains and blue sea on one side, and the great Bromo volcano, smoking splendidly, on another. The climate is certainly delightfully cool, but otherwise it is somewhat trying, and all sight-seeing during the wet monsoon must be done between five a.m. and noon, when, as regularly as clock- work, down come dense clouds of cold, wet mist, usually accompanied by storms of driving rain. Starting for the Bromo at five in the morning, I

Page 62

MY TOUR THROUGH JAVA. 53 PERSE S «hs rea és | ee oi + LOOKING DOWN FROM THE MOENGGAL PASS ULON THE SEA OF SAND AND THE THREE VOLCANOES OF BATOK, From a} BROMO, AND WIDODAREN. [Pheato. a ride of an hour and a half brought us in sight of the famous volcanic peak of Smeroé, twelve thousand feet high, and only about fifteen miles distant from us in a direct line. As we gazed, an immense column of smoke and ashes shot up into the blue sky, and about ten minutes later another similar eruption occurred. After half an hour’s ride through the forest we emerged at the top of the Moenggal Pass (seven thousand three hundred and twenty feet), where from the edge of the outer and extinct crater a. wonderful view is obtained of the Zandzee (Sea of Sand), with its three volcanoes — Batok, Bromo, and Wido- darén. This Sand Sea is the bottom of the gigantic crater of a no less gigantic volcano, the Teng- ger, in the interior of which new craters formed after the outer one had ceased working ; and these new craters raise them- selves on a crack in the bottom, in the form of the four mountains that are now to be seen. The descent to the sandy floor is about five hundred feet, along a very steep zigzag path, too difficult for horses ; and after crossing this, half an hour’s climb brought us to the flight of steps leading up the steep, sandy side of the Bromo THE NATIVES WEXE MUCH INTEKFSTED IN 1HE WHITE LaDy. f From a Photo. the American plan and well-ventilated. Unfortunately the trains do not run at night, for the cautious Dutchman distrusts native engine- crater. These stairs are renewed by the ‘Tenggerese men once a year, when thousands of Siva worshippers camp on the Sand Sea during the great Bromo festival, and their priests throw offerings to Brama, the “God of Fire,” into the smoking crater. The Bromo crater is about one thousand eight hundred feet in diameter at the rim, and from three to four hundred feet deep. Far below in the depths “fumaroles” and “solfatares” are boiling and foaming, and sulphurous fumes rise continu- ally to the surface, while small streams of ashes are hurled with a whizzing noise along the smooth walls, only to fall back again into the depths below. The scene from the top is weird and mysteri- ous, and the realiza- tion of the destruc- tive forces pent up within the — appa- rently solid earth fills one with wonder and awe. Railway travelling in Java is fairly comfortable, even in the second class, the cars being built on drivers after dark, and prefers to travel by break ; but although the speed is slow during the long, hot day-journey, the travellewdoes not eee

Page 63

54 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. object to frequent stoppages in passing through this rich and beautiful country, where the scenery throughout is varied and lovely. There is not a foot of uncultivated land to be seen, and in every field the docile, industrious natives are busy sowing, planting out, and cutting tice, the staple produce ; for in this “ granary of the East” these three operations go on simul- taneously side by side. The country ‘is a monotone of rich, luxuriant, tropical green, and although there are no snow-mountains, as in Kashmir or Switzerland, to lend grandeur to the picture, yet for all-round attractiveness and smiling prosperity Java is unequalled. One of the minor pin-pricks of travel in these parts is the impossibility of getting a good solid breakfast at any of the hotels before the early departure, for the Dutch reserve their best energies for the solemn midday meal, and indulge in the most meagre and impressionist of breakfasts. Coffee, however, is as near perfec- tion as possible, and it is served cold in a small stoppered glass bottle. The berry is freshly roasted and ground, and then, through the coffee, cold water is allowed to drip until a very strony essence is formed ; only a tablespoonful of this “triple extract” is required to make a delicious cup of coffee, when diluted with hot water or milk. Living and travelling are both expensive in Java, the nominal charge at hotels being from twelve shillings to fourteen shillings a day ; but “ extras ’—such as Apellinaris at about a shilling a bottle, the “common or garden” soda-water pe a z THE SONS OF THE SULTAN OF tron a) THE COURT. LEARNING FENCING WITH A DUTCH OFFICER ATTACHED T- being unobtainable anywhere—bring up the total considerably. A knowledge of German is useful, although in some towns in Mid-Java I found that even German was not understood by the railway officials, notwithstanding its strong family resemblance to their own Dutch language. Soerakarta (commonly called Solo), the picturesque capital of Mid-Java, with a fort and military garrison, is six hours by rail from Soerabaja, and here one reaches the heart of native Java more nearly than anywhere else, for the so-called Emperor, or swsuakan, of Solo was one of the last to give up his independence and become a pensioner of the Dutch Government. The people round Solo are: true Javanese, of Hindu descent, belonging to a higher civiliza- tion than the Sundanese of the west or the Tenggerese of East Java. The swsuahan maintains Royal state within his kraton, or palace, and is attended by a body- guard of Javanese soldiers, and by a bearer who holds over him‘a gold payoong, or State umbrella, but he is practically a prisoner all the same, and may not even drive beyond his own gates with- out informing the Dutch Resident where he is going. Solo is the tourist’s happy hunting-ground for curios, and really good old. carved Madura krises (native swords) may be picked up in the shops. One whole street is devoted to sarong shops, and beautiful specimens of the national skirt, finely drawn and hand-painted in four and five colours, are obtainable for about five pounds each, the colour combination, in rich dull red and soft green, with intricate Persian designs, being marvels of artistic taste. These Sarongs, which are worn by men and women alike, are two yards long and one yard deep, and they are drawn tightly round the hips, with the fullness gathered in front, and by an adroit twist fastened without a belt. The kris, which is dis- tinctively the Malay weapon, is worn by all Javanese above the labouring class and over fourteen years of age; and if the Japanese sword was the “soul of the Samurai,” the same may be said of the kris of the Javanese warrior. Now that troops ate-armed with European Lkhoto.

Page 64

MY TOUR THROUGH JAVA. 55 rifles the kris remains chiefly an ornament and a sign of rank. Ladies of high degree are allowed to display it, while princes wear two, three, and even four krises at a time. Djokjokarta, another provincial capital in Mid- Java, is one hour by rail from Solo, and here also the native Sultan maintains great outward state under the control of the Dutch Resident. It is a beautifully laid out town, with shady avenues of tall tamarind and kanari trees, and its picturesqué fasser (market) is a panorama of life and colour. The fruit market is particularly alluring, with great masses of golden bananas, red ram- butans, prickly durians, | mangos- teens —the most perfect of all fruits —the zanko or - jack fruit, the sa/ak or ‘forbidden fruit,” papayas, pomoloes, and pineapples galore. The flower market also. presents a perfect feast of colour, among the most fragrant flowers being the Kananga (ylang- ylang) and the sacred sumboja (frangipanni), the “flower of the dead,” associated everywhere in Java with funerals and graves. Djokjo is the starting-point for the wonderful temple of Boroboedar, said to have been erected in the seventh century of the Christian era, the golden age of Buddhism in Java. The Govern- ment rest-house, where a night or two may well be spent, is within a stone’s throw of the great temple, and here in this retreat of absolute calm, surrounded by five hundred sculptured Buddhas, one feels removed from all active human interests and out of touch with the living, moving world. Seen in this remote spot, far from the modern civilization of the twentieth century, the ruined splendour of the grey pile before us, shattered by earthquake and silent in its desolation, has an overpowering effect. Garoet, a favourite hill and pleasure resort, two thousand feet above the sea, is a clean and pretty little town, surrounded by several active LADY LAWSON'S BAGGAGE CROSSING A RIVER ON A PRIMITIVE FERRY, From a Photo. volcanoes, of which Papandajan is the most easily reached, a drive of eleven miles and then a ride of two hours bringing one to’ the lip of the crater. Starting at five a.m., we follow first a path which leads past cinchona plantations and then through a dense tropical forest crowded with tree-ferns, palms, orchids, and other tropical vegetation, right into the floor of the crater, through a gap in the rocky walls. Before us is 2 vast area of desolation, with innumerable cracks and pools of liquid sulphur sending off clouds of nauseous steam with a_ hissing noise like a young steam-engine. ‘Ihe ground everywhere is quite hot, and from all parts rum- blings and strange underground noises remind us of the activity of the subterranean fires beneath, and of the unpleasant possibility of history repeating itself by a great eruption; for in 1772, a ~~ sudden convulsion of Nature took place, and one side of the mountain was blown out into the air, three thou- sand people being engulfed in one day. This excursion is one of the most interesting in Java, not only on account of the activity of the volcano, but also because the forest that clothes the hill-sides up to the very edge of the crater is a veritable “ Kew-Gardens-run-wild,” with giant creepers, Venus fly - catchers, rare orchids, and exotic vistas of blooming loveli- ness at every turn. Another interesting trip may be made on pony-back to the Talaga Bodas or “ Milky Lake,” so-called because the water is of a dirty white golour. This lake is probably the crater of a volcano which is still partially active, for the surface is covered with gas-bubbles, con- stantly rising up from below, and steam issues from cracks along its margin. Next morning a drive of three miles took us to the hot springs at-the foot of the Goentoer

Page 65

56 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. volcano, where for twenty cents (five- pence) the visitor can have a delight- ful mineral bath in one of the brick squares let into the ground and covered by a bam- boo hut. Leaving Garoet with regret, after a short journey by rail and road, we arrived at Sindang- laja, a favourite hill- station situa- ted on a spur of the Gedeh, over three thousand feet above the sea. From Sindanglaja one ascends the Gedeh (nine thou- sand nine hundred and twenty - four feet) and also the twin peak Pangerango (eight thousand six hundred and seventy feet), two mountains which belong to one of the most remarkable volcanoes in Java, as the two crater- pits by which they are bored through are of an extraordinary circumference. Buitenzorg (‘without care”) the Dutch Sans Souci, is the Simla of Java, and possesses a comparatively cool climate, although it is only eight hundred feet high. The Governor-General has a palace in the centre of the famous Botani- cal Garden, with a lovely deer-park be- hind in which are groves of fine old | waringen trees. Dutch people in Buitenzorg —_ always refer to the Nether- lands Indies as “Tndia,” and to the Governor-General as “the Viceroy,” and to one who has lived in British India it is somewhat puzzling to be asked how long one intends to remain in “ India” (meaning Java), and how one likes “Indian” fruits ! Personally I ex- THE CRATER OF THE PAPANDAJAN VOLCANO—ONE ERUPTION OF THIS MOUN* From a) TAIN ENGULFED THREE THOUSAND PEOPLE IN A DAY. perienced much friendly kindness from the Governor- General and from all the Dutch officials; but speaking generally I should say that the Colonial Government does not welcome uitlanders, either as passing visitors or business - resi- dents. The Botanical Gardens at Buiten- zorg are the finest of their kind in the world, not even excepting the famous Peradeniya Gardens in Ceylon. The stately avenue of Kanari trees arches one hundred feet overhead like a temple of Nature’s own making, and the tall straight trunks are covered with rattans, climbing palms five hundred feet in length, and gigantic orchids, one of which, the grammatophylhum speciosum, bears three thousand blossoms at a time! The collection of palms, all growing in the open air, is certainly unrivalled. Botanists come from all parts of the world to study unsolved problems in physiological and econotnic botany at this garden, which is liberally equipped with a laboratory and all necessary facilities for original investiga- tions. To the un- scientific mind, how- ever, it is sufficient delight “to see mangosteens and rambutans growing, to find bread, sau- sages, and candles hanging in plenty from benevolent trees, and other fruits and. strange flowers springing from a tree trunk instead of from its branches.” The system of government in Java seems to be highly hepfesstul, if one (Photo,

Page 66

MY TOUR THROUGH JAVA. 57 may judge by the happy and contented look of the vast native population, who are kept in their proper place as a governed race under what may be called a “ benevolent despotism.” Their strong and energetic rulers do not pose as philanthropists, nor do they say, as I have people think that too much is being done for their education, and that they are becoming too independent since the propagation of these progressive .schemes; but this is an era. of Asiatic awakening and enlightenment, and in Java, as elsewhere, “the old order changeth,” A NATIVE PRINCE (IN WHITE COAT) WITH ATTENDANTS AND T UTCH KESIDENT, WHO VIRTUALLY CONTKOLS THE From a) COURT—TO THE LEFT IS THE GOLDEN UMBRELLA, THE SYMBOL OF ROYALTY. (Photo. heard Americans do in the Philippines, that they are in Java “for the good of the natives” ; bitt after the Dutch Government is assured of the material benefit to be derived by Holland, it does much to increase the prosperity and national intelligence of the people. Throughout the island the original native territorial divisions have been strictly preserved, and each petty prince reigns nominally in his own domain, with a Dutch Resident attached who practically rules the Court and keeps the Sovereign in order, disguising an “iron hand under a velvet glove.” Previous to 1864 the Javanese were not allowed to study the Dutch language, but now it is taught in all the schools for natives main- tained by the Colonial Government. Many and the Javanese have learnt wisdom from the introduction of Western methods, and can no longer be led and driven like a flock of sheep. In many respects they resemble the Japanese, especially in their love for flowers, perfumes, music, dancing, and poetry ; while their reverence for rank and age, and their elaborate courtesy, is just as marked among the common people as among the Japanese. They are a gentle, friendly, and intelligent little people, adaptive and assimi- lative, with soft voices and graceful, supple bearing ; and the traveller who leaves the beaten track to visit this paradise of the Indies will always retain an affectionate remembrance of the friendly little barefoot folk, living their simple and primitive life, close to the heart of Nature, in the sunshine and warmth of the tropics! Vol. xviii,

Page 67

An American “Oliver Twist.’ Totp By OLIVER WELLS AND SET DOWN BY WALTER ELLIOTT. The conclusion of the remarkable experiences of an orphan boy of fifteen while running away from brutal foster-parents. Last month Mr. Wells narrated how, while stealing a ride under a train, he overheard two rascals plotting to steal a large sum of money from the express-car. When the train came to rest at Pocatello, Idaho, the boy’s little dog, Tacks, bit one of the ruffians in the leg, thus revealing his master’s hiding-place. CAN hear the surprised and infu- riated howls of that startled man | ringing in my ears to this day, but I | was too utterly petrified with fright at the moment to pay especial attention to them just then. Wildly I grabbed ‘Tacks and drew him back; then, on a sudden impulse, as a thought of my own danger came to me, I removed my hand from the little fellow’s mouth and nose, fell back on my “pillow,” and pretended to be sound asleep. I even attempted a slight snore, but I was trembling so vio- lently I had hard work to sustain it. The two scared roughs were soon under the car, lighting matches to dispel the gloom and peering savagely into the lower bunk. It was the work of a minute after that for one of them to go to the outside of the car and drag me by the heels into the open —on that side of the car facing away from the depot, in a locality that was entirely deserted. Tacks promptly began snapping at my captor’s heels, and, I think, nip- ped one of the rogues, for, with an angry impreca- tion, he kicked backward and sent my faithful little companion spinning and rolling over the ground. ‘Tacks would have returned to the charge, however, had I not ordered him off. For a moment the pair of rascals merely stood and eyed me scowlingly, I blinking and trying as hard as I could, frightened as I was, to keep up the appearance of having been asleep. The one who by his voice I recognised as “Tobe” had hold of my collar; while “Sammy,” the stout man, stood at one side rubbing his shank where Tacks’s teeth had fastened, and eyeing first me and then the poor dog, with his head thrown down and forward, growling angrily. “Shammin’ sleep, was yer, little sneak?” growled the man holding me, with a rough shake that made my teeth chatter, and continu- ing to eye me sus- piciously and threateningly. “TI was asleep — sound asleep,” I began, in a weak, tremulous little voice that I had no need to assume. “Vd had a long tramp, and——” “None o’ yer lies now, kid,” he interrupted again, giving me another vicious shake, which brought Tacks at him again as if he had been shot out of a cata- pult. The man kicked at the little fellow, but ‘Tacks was too quick for, him this time, and retired growling to his former — safe vantage. “None 0’ yer “*SHAMMIN' SLEEP, WAS YER, LITTLE SNEAK{' GKowLED THE Mas.” LieS NOW, you little limb,” the big brute repeated, but I noticed he thought it prudent to cut out the shakes. ‘ My pard here, Sammy, can read folks’ thoughts an’ ’specially kids’ thoughts, an’ he'll know if yer lyin’. Cock yer eye on him, Sammy, while I asts him a few questions, an’ if he lies, why

Page 68

AN AMERICAN From a) CAPTURED YOUNG WELLS. we'll kill him an’ chuck him under the fust train that passes. “Now, look’ee here, kid—did yer hear what me an’ my pard dere was talkin’ about comin’ up de road? Yer warn’t asleep a// the time, I knows that. Now answer, an’ be mighty keerful. Sammy will know,” he concluded, menacingly. “T never woke up once till I got here,” I replied, and this at least was true, for I had only been asleep once, and Aad woke up there. “I was too tired to wake up. I tramped in from ’way out ona ranch to Hot Springs, so I couldn’t have heard what ——” “Oh! cut it, Tobe, cut it,” broke in the stout robber, impatiently. “If he dd hear he ain't goin’ to tell us, an’ we warn’t talkin’ ’bout nothin’ particular, anyhow. ‘If yer afraid of a kid, better thump him on the head an’ chuck him in a empty box-car an’ have done with it. I'm after grub meself.” “Well, I reckons yer right, Sammy,” answered Tobe. ‘’Tain’t me that’s skeered of a kid, ’specially as we ain’t said nothin’ only ’bout a deal we has on to buy a mine. Howsomever, we'll keep him with us the balance of the day to see no harm comes Why, bless my eyes, kid!” big Tobe interrupted himself to interject, as his gaze fell on the bulging pocket that held my precious hoard of money. ‘What is it you’ve got in yer pocket, kiddy, a-waitin’ anxiously to give it to yer Uncle Tobe?” Now, indeed, my heart sank. Not only was I going to be held prisoner by this pair of rogues, but my precious treasure was to be taken from me! How I wished just then that Tacks was a bigger dog! The one dollar eighty-seven cents Promptly passed out of my possession, and with THE GREAT FREIGHT YAKD AT FOCATRLLO, IDAHO, WHERE THE WOULD-BE TRAIN-ROBBERS, “OLIVER TWIST.” 59 many a hoarse chuckle of glee over their unexpected good fortune the two rogues transferred it to their pockets —a fight nearly ensuing between them be- cause of the impossibility of dividing it evenly. However, the trouble was averted by Tobe, the stronger man, starting off toward the eating-house to purchase food and a can of coffee with a dollar bill —an equitable division of the money to follow his getting change—while Sammy was to remain. to guard myself and Tacks until his companion’s return. “Now, mind yer, kid, no funny bizness while I’m gone,” growled Tobe, as he started to slink away. ‘Don’t yer try to run off, or Sammy will sure do for yer; he ain’t the amiable-dis- posed cove thatI am myself. Jest stay peaceful, an’ ef anyone asts yer, ’member Sammy an’ me is yer lovin’ uncles an’ dat yer jest dofes on us. An’ s'long as yer acts sensible, no one, not even Sammy dere, shall lay a hand on de little pup. That goes, Sammy, if he did nip yer. Don’t yer fergit it, neither, s’long as the kid obeys instructions—or else yer'll have me ter reckon with.” Manifestly the rascal Tobe was something of a diplomatist in his way. He recognised, at all events, the quickest and surest way to placate me through my fondness for my four-footed companion. And it was quite as manifest that the rascal Sammy held his muscular partner's prowess in proper respect. Anyway, Tacks was not molested after Tobe had left us, and I presently had him curled up in my lap again, I having seated myself on the end of a sleeper in a near-by siding. Tobe returned in a few minutes, bringing a quantity of sandwiches and “sinkers ” (dough- nuts), besides a large can of steaming coffee. I was given an equal share of the food, and, having resolved to make the best of a bad job until I could do better, did ample justice to it. Big Tobe had even had the foresight (I think he still had a suspicion that I was “on” to their dishonest plot) to bring a large bone, with plenty of meat attached, for Tacks. Well, after we had cleared up everything in sight and the two rogues had divided what was left of my money, and after both had had half an hour’s smoke out of two remarkably black ieee: Photo.

Page 69

60 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. clay pipes, Tobe, who assumed the leadership of our strangely-assorted quartet, announced that we had better have an amble down past the station and about the town—‘‘to settle the grub an’ get the stiffness out of our bones,” he explained ; though, from a wink I saw pass between them, I decided they were anxious to assure themselves that the express-car hadn’t taken wings. Upon some occasions, when there is much perishable property aboard, the express-cars are cut out of delayed trains and sent forward specially. | However, as we passed up the long train towards the station, a satisfied grunt from the leader convinced me the car with the treasure was still in the line. I felt much refreshed — after having had breakfast ; but I was by no means content with the situation I was in. I hadn't the remotest — inten- tion of submit- ting quietly to being kept pri- soner by the couple until train -time and after. I had told them truth- fully where I was bound for, and had big Tobe’s assur- ance of protec- tion during the rest of the trip as far as they went—“‘if I had ‘rig DEVOT POLICEMAN EYED US behaved pro- SLOWL perly.” I proposed, instead, quietly to watch my opportunity—either to bolt outright, or to call upon some passer-by to rescue me. ‘Then I would straightway seek the express-man and warn him of the contemplated robbery. In accordance with ‘Tobe’s suggestion we strolled down past the eating-house and along the quarter-mile of board platform to the depot building, I walking two or three steps in advance by ‘Tobe’s instructions, with one of the disreputable-looking couple on either side and ‘Tacks close at my heels—so close, in fact, did the suspicious little canine keep to me that 1 had difficulty in avoiding his nose at times when I lifted my foot. SOMEWHAT. DOUBTFULLY AS WE STRODE LY BY HIM." The depét policeman eyed us somewhat doubtfully as we strode slowly by him. He evidently thought something was wrong, for after hesitating an instant he started after us down the walk. “Mind yer eye now, kid. We’s yer lovin’ uncles. ’Member we'll do for yer an’ cut if yer dares to squeal,” cautioned the big rogue Tobe in a hoarse whisper. IT had been half resolved to throw myself upon the officer’s protection if he came up with us and gave me the chance ; but I felt my courage ooze out at my finger-tips after this awful threat, so that when finally the man did get close, pass us, and then turn directly in front of me and ask me who I was and if I belonged to these men, I stammered something —I don’t know what —to the effect that they were uncles of mine and we were going to a mine somewhere. It didn’t satisfy the officer ; he could see I was ter- ribly scared, but the artful Tobe chipped in at this juncture with a glib tale of particulars, so plausible that the officer was forced to be con- tent with it. I was delighted to see when we moved on again, however, that he still had his eye on us, and kept moving slowly in the same general direc- tion we were going. Hoping to shake him off, Tobe issued the hoarse whispered command that we should turn up the main street into the town, out of the depét policeman’s beat, adding to Sathmy that we would take a big turn when out of sight of the depot and get back to “our car.” The recent encounter had made him nervous, and much as he wanted to stretch his muscles, with the long, cooped-up ride to Dillon’ still in prospect, he was unwilling to take any more chances. Stentent and ih

Page 70

AN AMERICAN Now as we started to move away from the depét, and I knew I was going to be taken back to the deserted corner of the yard, where I should probably have no opportunity to appeal to anyone, I began to regret the cowardice I had displayed before the policeman, when a single word would have saved me. My courage grew stronger from sheer despera- tion with each step I took away from the officer. That my captors were armed both with pistols and knives, they had been at great pains to show me more than once. But, notwithstand- ing this, I suddenly reached a conclusion it was then or never for me, and I decided I would try a dodge on my two “ lovin’ uncles,” which I had formerly played with varying success on my amiable foster-father when he was trying to catch and flog me. The trick was this. I would start to run toward the town as if trying to escape in that direction, keep going until my heavy captors were well under way in pursuit, and then whee! suddenly and cut around them toward the depét and the policeman, believing I could reach the latter—now some hundred and fifty yards behind me—before my pursuers would be able to turn and overtake me. I had become courageous enough to think they would not dare “ig me with the officer close y. Thad just keyed myself up to make the break—I knew ‘Tacks would take care of him- self and follow me_ without urging—and had drawn my shoulders up straight and lifted one foot preparatory to making a dash ahead, when who should come hurrying around a corner on tothe main street, less than a block in front of us, but a stalwart, smooth-faced chap of twenty-five, wearing the cap of a railway express messenger. T recognised him instantly, in- tuitively, as the guard of the car on our train—and the very man I was anxious to see. Ry Naturally the incident dis- | concerted my plans. When he was thirty steps away I caught his eye, and tried to signal to him by rolling my own eyes toward the rear and turning my “OLIVER TWIST” 61 tated slightly, and was starting to move on again when his gaze for the first time fell upon the two rascals behind me. He halted as if petrified, staring them full in the face ; but, with a fine assumption of uncon- cern, Tobe and Sammy turned their heads slightly in the opposite direction, the latter even starting to whistle a careless tune. Both men, I noticed instantly, began walking faster, big Tobe calling out to me in a hoarse croak—for the inquisitive messenger’s benefit, of course— “Hurry, on, neffy boy; ef we’s goin’ to make the ranch afore dark, we’s got ter hustle.” But the express messenger had now planted himself directly in our path. My heart was beating like a miniature trip-hammer. “T’ve seen you fellows before—you two,” he said, as he pointed a finger straight in the faces of the startled pair, who were now forced, willy- nilly, to halt. “You were hanging around my car at Cache, watching that money transferred. Who are you, now, and what's your little game? And how did you get here? You were not in any of the coaches ; I looked.” “Ah, come off, guvnor,” croaked Tobe, making a hoarse effort to pose as an insulted head that way slightly, but for Sen the life of me I couldn’t force he pha aword from my lips. The man | svanles Wend tb cast a quick, surprised look at Pe me—as well he might—hesi- ‘OyWm RRPRESS MESSENGER HAD NOW PLANTED IIMSELE DIRECTLY IN OUR FATIH.” yc

Page 71

62 * THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. and dignified “honest rancher.” “Yer ain’t never seen nary one o’ us afore. We jest drove in a couple o’ hours ago from the ranch on the Crow reservation. Ef yer don’t believe it, yer can jest ask our little neffy, Ollie, there ——” “T's a lie--it’s a lie!” shouted I, at the top of my small lungs; and with that I plunged head down between the pair, heading towards the depot, with Tacks at my heels. ‘‘ They’re robbers!” TI cried, as I ran; “they rode under the funny car at the end of the train. They're going to steal that money when they get to Dillon! Police- nan! Police!” I could see the depot police- man coming— he was nearly up to me, in fact, when I heard two quick shots behind me. There came a flash and loud explo- sion in front of me—a_ third shot the same instant from be- hind, and I felt a cold, stinging sensation along one side of my head. ‘Then I fell fairly into the officer’s arms. I was shot, and I knew no more for the space of three hours. My story is drawing to its close, and I will merely summarize what I learned after I came to in the cool express-car, whither I had been borne, and where I had briefly told all I knew in a weak little voice, with Tacks curled beside me on the messenger’s cot, licking my hands and face. Seeing detection was inevitable, and knowing now that my testimony would send him and his companion to prison, ‘Tobe had drawn his pistol like a flash, fired point-blank in the messen- ger’s face, and bolted. The bullet had made an “PME PLUCKY FELLOW INSTANTLY WHEELED AND FIKED AT THE FLEEING DESPERADY.” ugly wound in the side of his victim’s neck, but the plucky fellow had instantly wheeled ‘and fired at the fleeing desperado, the bullet catch- ing the latter in the back, under the left shoul- der, and killing him instantly. Then Sammy, the second rogue, recognising in me the cause of all their undoing, had fired at me as I was running, his bullet grazing my head and stunning me. The depot policeman, however, had promptly avenged me by shooting the fellow through the lungs (I be- lieve he re- covered in the State Peniten- uary, where he wentafter he had made a full con- fession—not only concerning this intended robbery, but several others he and Tobe had already “pulled off”). The express people and others made a great fuss of me and little Tacks. We did ride to Butte in a car, but it was in a Pullman berth, for I was very weak from my wound and the excitement. Best ofall, Tacks was allowed to ride with me, despite the rules. The express company saw fit to send me a cheque for two hundred and fifty dollars, which the mining company near Dillon doubled when they heard the story. I had no trouble in “locating” my relation, the sympathetic express méssenger having got his name from me and wired to him. “ Uncle Tom,” as I always called him, met me at Dillon ; and he, too, was loud in his praises—not for- getting ‘Tacks, of course. It goes without saying that I never had to return to my brutal foster-parents, nor since that time have I ever met any more train-robbers. Digitized by G oogle

Page 72

The Tragedy of the Tower. By E. St. Joun’ Hart anp THE Rev. E. L. C. WILson. A double-barrelled story, so to speak, brought about by a remarkable literary coincidence. A visitor to Spain met with a curious experience, learning later, from a newspaper paragraph concerning a similar adventure which befell an English doctor, that he had come within an ace of losing his life. Hardly had the tourist’s story reached our hands than the doctor's narrative followed it, from an entirely different quarter, the two accounts together setting forth all that is known of the “Tragedy of the Tower.” ALKING of narrow escapes,” said my friend Norton,* as we sat together in his library, “even I, the least adventurous of men, sometimes indulge myself with the belief that, at least once in my life, 1 had a narrow escape.” And then he told me the following curious story. It occurred during my visit to Spain in 1887. I must tell you that at that time circumstances compelled me to practise a rather strict economy, and for that reason, as well as for convenience, I was travelling with the minimum of luggage, replenishing my wardrobe as I went along. My only object in drawing attention to these details is to point out that, with my rather copper- hued complexion and black hair, I looked very unlike the typical, well-to-do British tourist. Conversation in Spanish was beyond me, but I could understand and make myself understood to the extent of the few words and sentences necessary to one travelling in new localities. arrived in Cordova late one evening towards the end of April, 1887. Early next morning I left the Fonda Suiza, where I had put up, intending to begin my wander- ings by calling at a local bank on which I had a let- ter of credit. As I did not know where the bank was situated, I paused for a mo- ment undecided whether to trust to chance and in- stinct to find it or to return in- doors and ask the landlord for the address. While thus hesitating I became conscious of a gipsy leaning against a wall on the opposite side of the narrow Calle del Paraiso, and was so struck by the picturesqueness of his appearance that I stared involuntarily before I remembered that it is not polite to stare, even ata beggar. He seemed about medium stature, but strongly built, and was a very dark-faced, hairy man, with a thick beard and moustache and long locks hanging to his shoulders. ‘The hirsuteness of his appearance was emphasized by the jacket he carried slung round his neck in some fashion, which was of goat-skin with the hair outside. In addition he wore a_ shirt which had once been white, loose knicker- bockers, topped by a red cummerbund—in the voluminous folds of which appeared the long handle of a Navaja knife—and slung under one arm what may have been a musical instrument or an old-time powder-horn. He had sandals on his feet with velvet straps crossed round his legs, and of course his head was bound in the usual handkerchief, on which was jammed a high-crowned soft felt hat. I had barely noted these details when the gipsy crossed the street and, without any saluta- * The narrator desiring E a OR a to remain anonymous, THE INTERIOR OF THE CATHEDRAL AT CORDOVA, WHERE THE EXPERIENCES RELATED IN THIS NARRATIVE this name is fictitious. From a) DECURKED. [hote. eeeeeEeEeEeEeEeEeeeeeEeEeeeOeeeeeeeeeee_—O—_—— til

Page 73

64 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. tion, speaking in a strangely surly manner, offered his services to guide me to the Cathedral and generally to show me the sights of Cordova. Now, I never employ a guide when it is pos- sible to do without one, and in any case would not have engaged this man, as I was anything but prepossessed with his manner of speaking. So, telling him I did not require his services, I turned on my heel and re-entered the hotel, where the landlord gave me the ad- dress I wanted—a branch of the Banco de Espana, which is, or was, if I remember rightly, in the Plazuela de Seneca. _ Proceed- ing, as I thought, thither, I soon con- trived to lose myself in a fascinating maze of narrow, tortuous, _ ill-paved streets, lined with dingy, Oriental- looking little shops and low, flat-roofed houses with over- hanging balconies and whitewashed walls, against which Thad to flatten my- self every now and then tolet a string of meek-faced donkeys pass along. The second time this happened I heard a voice mumbling something at my elbow, and turning sharply beheld the gipsy who had accosted me out- side the hotel and who must have been patiently dogging my foot- steps. I curtly told him to go F about his business, and, proceed- ing on mine, presently turned a corner and lost sight of him. It was then that I caught a glimpse of the glorious Cathedral, loom- ing magically beautiful in the strong sunlight against the blue sky. Obeying a sudden impulse I walked towards it with the intention of merely glancing at the interior, and then ascending the tower, from which I could get an outlook and some general idea of the plan of the city; my proposed visit to the bank could wait, I decided. “TELLING HIM I DI) NOT REQUIRE HIS SERVICES, I TURNED ON MY HEEL." My “glance ” into the interior of the Cathedral of course lengthened itself into an hour's inspec- tion, and in time I found myself in the beautiful Patio de Los Naranjos or Court of the Orange Trees, and from there proceeded to the foot of the Campanario or Bell Tower (I had paid the sacristan the necessary fee and tip), Finding the door standing open, I entered and began the rather toilsome ascent. I nad not mounted many steps when I was rather startled to hear a surly voice, which I recognised, informing me from the darkness below that its owner was the sole authorized guide to the tower, and that if I would wait a moment he would point out everything of inte- rest as we went along. So my gipsy apparently had not lost sight of me! But I was now less inclined forhis com- pany than ever, and as his claim to be the official guide was absurd on the face of it, I again told him I did not want him, and continued my upward climb, perhaps a thought more expeditiously. But, unfortu- nately, I ama short- winded man, and after a few seconds had to pause for breath; 1 congratu- lated myself, how- ever, that I had at last shaken off the gipsy, for not a sound but that of my own breathing disturbed the stillness. Then a pungent reek of garlic was wafted up- wards from the black well of the staircase, and, peering down below, after a while I could make out some shape in the gloom patiently ascend- ing after me, and moving with the silence of a ghost, for on the stone steps the fellow's sandalled feet made no sound. I pushed on ahead, with my thoughts quite unpleasantly preoccupied with the man follow-

Page 74

THE TRAGEDY OF THE TOWER ing me. I was well accustomed to the per- sistency of beggars in Spain and other countries, but there was something about this gipsy’s constancy of purpose that struck me as a trifle uncanny. I am not at any time a nervous man, and certainly had not the slightest appre- hension that anything serious was about to befall me, and yet as I mounted I felt distinctly uncomfortable. At last, to my great relief, I reached the summit, and once more stepped out into the blessed air and sunshine—only to experience a profound disappointment, for the top of the tower was not at all what I imagined it to be. The parapet struck me as being almost perilously low, and one could not move freely round the gallery nor yet see across it, by reason of the supports of a yet higher structure which formed the pedestal of a great gilded figure of Saint Raphael. If I remember rightly, you had to pass through the doorways of this erection to get from one side to the other of the gallery, and a per- son on one side would not be visible to a person on the other. Here, then, I was completely at the mercy of my not- to- be - shaken - off gipsy, who, a little winded by the ascent, appeared at my elbow a few minutes after my arrival and com- menced a lengthy statement of such volubility that I did not catch the sense of one word in twenty. To me, the view from the tower was a failure, for the gipsy and his garlic pervaded every- thing. It was certainly no good my re- maining up there, so I made a sud- den dive for the doorway and had tun down a dozen Steps or so, while he was still — for Vol. xviii —9, WORD OF THANKS.” “HE PICKED UP THE MONEY WITHOUT A 65 about the tenth time — trying to attract my attention to something immediately at the foot of the tower, which would have involved my leaning out farther over the low parapet than | deemed altogether prudent. Of course, he descended after me, and with much more noise than when he had followed me up; he seemed, indeed, to be suffering from some irritation, for I decidedly caught many profane exclamations as I hurried down through the darkness. But I had a good start of him, and being determined to have no button-holing on that staircase, maintained my lead, and finally reached the entrance door and the out- side air, with the gipsy a very bad second. Then the absurdity of the whole adventure suddenly dawned on me, and, bursting out laughing, 1 tossed some coins to where my would-be guide stood sullenly contemplating me a few paces away. He picked up the money without a word of thanks and placed it in his cummer- bund; then he strolled towards another gipsy who had twice called to him, “Heredia! Heredia!” — since he had emerged from the tower door. As I walked back to my hotel I told myself I had been several variations of an idiot not to have given Mr. “Heredia” a trifle at the first, and so have obviated an annoying hour or so, as he ceased to bother me from the moment he got the money. A few days afterwards I joined a party of tourists -I think we were six in all—to visit a curious gipsy settlement some little dis- tance outside the city of Cordova. The guide engaged for this excursion was explicit and peremptory in his ctions to the party before setting , insisting that none of us should carry in our pockets or have about our persons anything of the slightest value, except a small sum in silver,

Page 75

66 Tit WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. We drove in a ramshackle conveyance for several miles along the plain of Cordova and then alighted, the guide at this point collecting each man’s supply of silver and giving him a note of the amount. We walked on for a con- siderable distance and were now in the midst of a dreary, sterile plain, strewn with boulders of all sizes, with here and there a stunted tree or bush and patches of some coarse, scrub-like growth. Suddenly, from nowhere in particular, as it seemed, a pack of fierce mongrels rushed at us open-mouthed, making a most savage clamour, and our party would have had a lively ten minutes had not our guide raised a curious cry, whereat two uncouth gipsies, clad mostly in goat-skins, appeared as mysteriously as had the dogs and called the yelping pack to heel. f Then our guide went forward and entered into a long colloquy with the two men, during- which we saw him bestow on them every peseta he had collected from the party. Having thus paid our footing, the guide called to us to follow him, and, going round the lee of a boulder, we saw him disappearing feet foremost through an aperture in the earth, the size of an ordinary man-hole, from which a rough ladder led to the caves below. On the surface it was so little noticeable and so unprotected that a man might easily have stepped into it in complete obliviousness of its existence, though presumably the gipsies had some method of sealing or guarding their lair. Once down the ladder we found ourselves in a large natural cave, perhaps twelve feet or more from floor to roof. ‘This led into other caves, a whole series of them, seemingly more or less in line, and these again—as we found when we walked through them—branched right and left into yet others of which we could not see the whole extent. There were several such apertures as that through which we had descended, and these, when the ladders were removed, served as chimneys for the cooking fires, some of which were burning merrily. In addition to such day-" light as came through the man-holes the caves were dimly illuminated by the burning faggots and by primitive oil lamps stuck here and there on the walls, which enabled us to see the curious inhabitants—the strangest assembly of people I have ever seen anywhere. We were literally surrounded by a crowd of WR 1K Go eve “THEY WENT THROUGH ALL OUR POCKETS."

Page 76

THE TRAGEDY OF ‘THE ‘1OWER. 67 “1 WAS NOT A LITTLE SURPRISED TO FIND THAT HE WAS THE GIPSY WHO HAD FOLLOWED ME.” women and children of all ages—the few men present, for the most part, remaining in the background ; the former pressed close about us, patting, pawing, and stroking us as if in playful friendliness, but in reality they went through all our pockets and carefully fingered our wristbands and collars—we, from previous instruction by the guide, not making the slightest resistance. In the dim background I more than once noticed a gipsy, whom the others approached and spoke to with some show of deference, and who ordered his comrades about in the manner of one having authority. On our way out—we left by a different aperture to that by which we had entered—I passed close to this man, and though he gave not the slightest sign of recog- nition, I was not a little surprised to find that he was the gipsy who had followed me up the Cathedral tower, or his exact double. With the exception of the gentle overhauling we had been subjected to on arrival, these people had treated us with perfect civility. While discussing them on the drive home I asked the guide some questions about the gipsy Heredia, but either he did not know anything, as was most probable, or pretended not to know anything about him. Three weeks later I left Cordova. In June I was in Madrid, and one day, seated in a café, was comparing travel notes with an English-speaking Spanish friend, as we sipped our aguardiente. The first and only time he had visited Cordova was, I think, about fifteen months prior to the date of my visit, and he had seen all the sights 1 had seen save one. “1 did not ascend the Cathe- dral tower,” he told me, ‘ because I dislike places associated with a recent tragedy. Just before my arrival a compatriot of yours, an Englishman, committed suicide by throwing himself from the top of the tower.” “How did they know it was a case of suicide,” I inquired, “and not a mere accidental over- balancing from giddiness? 1 felt giddy up there myself.” “Ah,” he replied, “he was not alone. A gipsy—a sort of guide, I believe, who generally hung about the place—accompanied him. He, I suppose, was witness of the occurrence.” In December I was back in London, and you can imagine with what startled interest I read, when I opened my morning paper of the eighth of that month, first this item of intelligence and then the others which I will read to you. Here my friend, taking a bound volume of the Zimes from the book-shelves, proceeded to read out a series of extracts, the first and last of which are reproduced in facsimile. They referred to a murderous assault made upon a MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR AT CORDOVA. MADRID, Dre. 7. guide. While they were in the tower two shote were heard. Tho Englishman then descended alono, with stains of blood on his clothes. Ho went straightway to the) British Consulate and then returned to his hotel, where he was afterwards arrested, the polico having found the dead body of the gipsy in the tower. FACSIMILE OF THE FIRST PAKAGRAPIL IN THE ‘OTIMES” ANNOUNCING DK, MIDDLICTON'S ARREST ARTE SHOOTING 11k. GIPSY.

Page 77

68 Dr. Middleton, of Scarborough, medical attend- ant to Lord Deramore. attacked in the Cathedral tower at Cordova by a gipsy named Heredia, whom the Englishman shot and kijled in self- defence. He afterwards gave himself up to the authorities, but was allowed to leave the country on bail, return- ing to stand his trial, when he was eventually acquitted. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. The doctor was SPAIN. MADRID, Aprii 12. Judgment was given this afternoon at Cordova in the cane of Dr. Middleton, who was charged with killing a gipsy. Tho Court declared that the prisoner had acted in self-defence, and there- fore completely absolved him from liability. 1 understand that the decision relieves the accused from all costs in the case, and that the Public Prosecutor himself asked at the conclusion of the trial for an acquittal. that his intentions were baffled by my premature descent from the tower. other of these alternatives, the Failing one or the doctor’s ex- periences might possi- bly have been mine— barring the fact that I did not carry a weapon of any kind, and so should have been more or less at the villain’s mercy.” Subjoined will be found Dr. Middleton’s own account of his ex- citing “adventure with the murderous gipsy, as “Now,” said Norton, as he replaced the volume, “I think you can draw your own deductions without any comments from me. “The doctor, 1 suppose, looked worth rob- bing. Either I did not, on close inspection, or Heredia was so long in deciding that I was, FACSIMILE OF THE ' TIMES” PAKAGRAFH KEFEKKING TO THR DOCTOK'S ACQUIITAL. related by him to his friend, the Rev. E. L. C. Wilson, after his return to England. Curiously enough, as already stated, the narrative reached us only a few days after the story above, to which it forms an interesting sequel. THE DOCTOR’S STORY. By THE Rev. E. L. C. Witson.* I wENT to Spain in 1887, travelling to Cordova by way of Marseilles, Barcelona, and Valencia. On arriving at Cordova I took up my quarters at an excellent hotel, and the following day, after breakfast was over, started to walk to the post-office. On my way there a bearded, dark- faced gipsy accosted me, asking to be allowed to act as my guide. Though I informed him 1 had no need of his services he continued walk- ing behind me, and afterwards rendered me some little help in obtaining my letters. This was on a Sunday, and the Féte of St. Raphael, the patron saint of Cordova. As I intended to climb to the top of the Cathedral, I offered my self-constituted escort a peseta to go and find the caretaker. He did as requested, whereupon I paid him the money and dismissed him. Then, ascending the tower, I gazed at the scenery around, which was very beautiful. On the left was the Guadalquiver flowing along through grassy meadows, while the hills in the distance formed a striking background to the old town. On retracing my steps to the interior of the dome I noticed to my great surprise that the gipsy I had previously dismissed was standing at the top of the staircase. 1 could see by the sinister expression on his face that he hadn’t followed me for nothing—a gipsy, indeed, is far too lazy to mount between two and three hundred steps without some definite object. Dr. Middleton's narra. hed by the Times, but it stands.— Ep, tive, as here given, a ceounts: pu we think it advisible to publish his versio! Mustering up courage, however, I said to my- self, ““Why should I be afraid?” Going for- ward, I attempted to pass him, when suddenly, without the slightest warning, he seized me by the throat with a grip of iron. Gasping for breath, I struck him in self-defence a blow on the side of the head with my walking-stick. With a cry of rage he wrenched it from me, loosing his hold of my throat in order todo so. Being now free from his clutches, I commenced to descend the staircase at my best pace. The gipsy, however, overtook me with a couple of bounds, and again attacked me savagely. Throwing his arm around my neck from behind, he nearly succeeded in choking me by forcing my head backwards. My breath came in laboured gasps, and a red mist began to swim before my eyes. The situation was a critical one, and at last, seeing that, struggle as 1 would, I could not release myself, I determined to use my revolver, which I fortunately-had in the pocket of the overcoat I was then wearing. Meanwhile my murderous assailant, having one hand at liberty, inserted it without cere- mony into my trousers pocket, extracting there- from some dollar-pieces ; then he snatched at my watch-chain. Under pressure of his powerful arm I was gradually becoming in- sensible, but when 1 saw him producing a knife from his girdle and open it with his teeth, I felt instinctively that, if I wished to save my life, the moment for action had come. So making a great cffort, 1 drew the_reyolyer from my pocket

Page 78

THE TRAGEDY OF THE ‘TOWER. 69 and fired. ‘The bullet struck him in the mouth, shattering his upper jaw, and hitting the wall just opposite. As he still gripped me, however, spitting out blood and curses, I fired again. This time I aimed at his arm, intend- ing to disable it and so force him to release me; the bullet, however, entered the body at the sixth rib, and turning inwardly, penetrated to the heart. Without a sound the gipsy fell at my feet stone dead. Much upset by this tragic adventure, I hurried down the stairs and went straight and informed the authorities, telling them, of course, to deal with the matter as they pleased. No one, however, detained me, and when I re- turned for my trial some time after- wards it was quite of my own accord, my friends being greatly opposed to my doing anything of the kind. During the interim I left Spain and went to Tangier, where a telegram reached me from Sir C. Ford, the English Ambassador, asking me to meet him at Madrid. Before starting { consulted Sir H. Hancock, the Chief Justice of Gibraltar, who told me how risky it was to travel through the coun- try after what had occurred for fear of reprisals from the gipsy’s friends. In spite of this, however, I took my de- parture for the Spanish capital. The only route was wz@ Cordova, so, in order to escape notice, I completely disguised myself, wearing a large Pyrenean hat, a loose Spanish cloak that reached to my heels, and a pair of dark-blue spectacles. It was well that I did so, for directly we reached Cordova I saw a gipsy loitering on the platform intently examin- ing the new arrivals. I knew him at once by sight as a friend of Heredia, my late assailant, but though I passed within two or three yards of him he did not recognise me, thanks to my disguise. When the trial came on every available place in the court was crowded. The Chief of Police had received instructions to guard me most carefully, and, indeed, I was told (though I cannot vouch for the truth of it) that his own position would have been in jeopardy if any- thing had happened to me. One of my friends (an Englishman) was also carefully guarded, as the gipsies had at first mistaken him for me and were closely watching him. The respectable people were admitted to the court by a private entrance, and the space that was then left was occupied by gipsies. When they first centered “WITHOUT A SOUND THE GIPSY FELL AT MY FEET STONE DEAD.” they were very excited, and rushed towards me with angry cries ; it was only with great difficulty that the triple line of gendarmes who stood behind me could keep them at bay. One of the dead man’s brothers tried his hardest to reach me—I suppose to insert a knife between my ribs—but a blow from a musket brought him to a standstill. e I occupied a seat in the front of the judge ; on the left was my advocate, with the English friend already referred to ; on the right were the Crown Prosecutor and the Private Accuser. After five hours’ trial an adjournment was made to the scene of the tragedy. I drove with the Consul, the judge, a couple of gendarmes, and a police inspector, but before we reached the Cathedral the horses stumbled and fell. An angry mob of gipsies came rushing forward ; but the guards who were stationed on the route kept them back with the butts of their muskets. T also heard that a number of troops were ready at the barracks to march at a moment’s notice, as everyone expected a riot over the affair. We ee ee

Page 79

90 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ‘"] EXPLAINED WHAT HAD HAPPENED, TO THE BEST OF MY AUILITY.” ascended the tower, and the whole business was again enacted. I explained what had happened, to the best of my ability, and they all offered me hearty congratulations on having so successfully defended myself. The trial commenced on a Saturday—Sunday, of course, was a dies non—and on the following day the Court was addressed by the Crown Prosecutor. He,commenced by stating that the charge of murder was an utterly preposterous one, and the whole affair resolved itself into a question of character. There were only the gipsy and myself in the tower at the time, and he showed how ridiculous it was to compare our respective positions. The man Heredia was known to have stabbed at least four of his countrymen, and half his life had been spent in ptison—he was, in fact, an incorrigible rogue and vagabond. He also referred to the straight- forward manner in which I had acted, remarking that few men would have risked their lives, as I had done, by voluntarily coming back to Cordova. When he concluded, the Private Accuser stood up to speak on behalf of the gipsies. He had no defence; he merely observed that the English were a bloodthirsty nation, and I, if anything, looked more blood- thirsty than the majority of my countrymen ! It was quite usual, he said, for the English to shoot down those who displeased them ; and he quoted from a book, written by an American, which stated that the middle and lower ciasses in England were living in abject slavery ! Then my advocate, Don Pedro Rey, one of the finest orators in Spain and whose partner was a member of the Chamber of Deputies, rose to defend me. He spoke most eloquently and explained to the judge what an injustice had been done in putting me to all this expense and trouble. ‘The gipsies, he said, were formerly so notorious that if any were discovered with knives or weapons in their possession they were immediately hanged. If a gipsy was known to commit an offence he was branded on the fore- head with the word gé/ano; and if he trans- gressed a second time the punishment was death without a trial. Don Pedro’s remarks caused quite a sensation, as many who heard him were entirely ignorant of these old regulations. I ought to mention that none of the gipsies wished me to be punished. It was money they wanted in satisfaction of the death of their comrade; but the price asked—ten thousand francs—was, of course, unreasonable. I firmly believe that if I had offered them a thousand they would gladly have taken it and would not have caused me any more trouble. When the trial was over I proceeded to Madrid, still closely guarded, as the gipsies were greatly enraged against me. They were very dissatisfied at the verdict, and I was informed that one of their number (a man with plenty of money) was doing his best to stir up trouble for myself and the authorities. He helped his comrades to appeal against the judgment, and altogether the business must have cost him several hundred pounds. I was also informed that I should have four hundred pounds of my own expenses refunded ; for, as things then stood, 1 was close on a thousand out of pocket. Sir C. Ford, the English Ambassador, treated me kindly and courteously throughout. The Spanish authorities, too, were civil and obliging, and strict orders were given to all the officials connected with the case to show me every attention. After the trial a law was passed for- bidding the gipsies to accompany strangers as guides or to follow them about at places of public interest unless wearing a badge and possessing a licence. So the travelling public have greatly benefited, but, unfortunately, prin- cipally at my expense.

Page 80

In Quest of the Bird of Paradise. By A. E. Pratt. Mr. Pratt is a well-known naturalist, and went to the remote Aru Islands, off the coast of New Guinea, to secure living specimens of the wonderful Bird of Paradise. In this article he describes and illustrates his difficult mission, showing the curious manner in which the natives trap the birds in their aerial “ playgrounds.” HE name Bird of Paradise has for most people a peculiar fascination, for travellers to the remote regions where these beautiful creatures go through their strange “dance” and display their gorgeous plumage are few and far between. My object in visiting the Aru Islands, a little-known group situated about ninety miles from the south coast of New Guinea, during the year 1905 was to obtain living specimens of Paradisea _ apoda, one of the loveliest of Nature’s creations. The bird itself is about as big as a crow, but, of course, the profusion of its plumage makes it appear much larger. The male bird measures about seventeen inches from the tip of the beak to the end of the tail; the colour of the body, wings, and tail is a rich brown. The head and neck are clothed with feathers of a delicate yellow, while those of the lower part of the throat as far as the eye are of a metallic emerald green. The beak is of a lead-blue colour. The feet are large and strong, of a pale ashy pink. ‘The two tail wires vary in length in different speci- mens from about twenty-five to thirty-five inches, and are destitute of webs. The glory of the bird, however, lies in a dense mass of long silky plumes growing beneath each wing. ‘These sometimes attain a length of two feet, and are of a very brilliant orange colour, shading away roN wy aX A BIRD OF PARADISE, From a Photo. by W. P. Dando, F.2.S. last, but by no means towards the tip to a light brown. They can be elevated and spread out at the will of their owner. The female, curiously enough, forms a striking contrast to the male, for she is of a uniform modest brown colour, which never varies. The difficulty of obtaining living specimens is great, for not only is the bird comparatively tare, but immense dis- tances separate the remote localities in which it is to be found. These dis- tances have tobe traversed by means of an evil-smell- ing and dilapidated Chi- nese junk, sailing through the endless networks of lonely channels — which characterize these islands. The waterways are dismal in the extreme ; for miles on each bank gloomy forests of mangroves spring from the slimy ooze below, forsaken by all the higher forms of life except, perhaps, a few pigeons; they are the swampy breeding places of malaria, mos- quitoes, sandflies, and— estilential and truly horrible stench. Over all reigns a dead and sullen silence, broken only by the peculiar clacking of the bivalves, which lie in the swamps among the mangrove roots and close their shells with a resounding snap when the tide recedes. The only civilized sound one hears is the occasional clang of a gong, which it is the custom of traders to beat when nearing a village in order to inforny the.natives of their approach,

Page 81

72 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ONE OF THE LONELY CHANNELS WHICH INTERSECT THE AKU From al ISLANDS. (Photo. Arrived at Dobo, the only settlement in the Aru Islands, which consists of a mixed popula- lation of Chinese, Japanese, Bu Boutanese, Arabs, Ceramese, and others, we found that it would be nec sary to penetrate into the interior of the country to attain the object of our expedition. After procuring the necessary provisions for a two months’ journey, weleft | Dobo on the 23rd of June ina small boat, bound for a village in the Wa- telai channel named _ Silbata- bata. On our arrival the chief came out to meet us, and it was only with great reluctance, and after much persuasion, that he allowed us to en- camp on the opposite side of the creek to the vil- lage. After a time, however, the natives showed a more friendly spirit, and were in- duced, bya very liberal payment in axes, to- bacco, cloth, knives, beads, jew’s-harps, and other articles, to help us to build our house, as we had determined to make this village our head-quarters dur- ing our stay in Aru. Although we told the natives the ob- ject of our journey they took but little interest in our pro- ject, and it was not until several weeks had elapsed that a HE ONLY SETTLEMENT ISLANDS, AND THE PoInT] OF Mk, BKED(TioN. ahola.

Page 82

IN QUEST OF THE BIRD OF PARADISE. 73 From a) THE AUTHOR'S CAMP AT DOBO. “ living specimen of a Paradise bird was brought to us. During this tedious wait we were able to observe the extraordinary antics for which the bird is famous, and which, for want of a better name, have been described as “dancing.” For this purpose we set out one morning in a native dug-out down the Watelai channel until we reached a creek going northward; this we entered and followed for about five miles. ‘The banks were covered with mangroves, and the stench of the swamp at low water was paces on almost unendurable, At last we came to a dry landing - place, where we disembarked and followed a native path which led to ground about eighty feet above the level of the sea. This was the highest point we had reached in the Aru Islands, which are very flat with the excep- tion of the southern one, Tarangan, where hills of three hundred feet are met with. After traversing three miles of undulating forest country we arrived at the “play trees” (Pawhawn Sacaleli) of the birds wehad come so far to seek. Just before reaching the place the silence of the forest was broken by the loud “Wauk! wauk!” of a male Paradise bird. To my surprise the natives became intensely excited at hearing this and rushed off shouting, “ They are there! they arethere!” I followed them as quickly as possible and saw at once how difficult it would be to obtain a specimen, owing to the immense height of the trees. There were two male birds, each attended by his admiring wives, who were fairly numerous. The antics the males perform in their “dance” are astounding. ‘They assume the most fantastic positions, sometimes lying flat on a branch with [Photo, WA WA VA VA VW, A RAJAH PAVING A CEREMONIAL VISIT 10 DOBO WITH HIS FLOTIELA OFyCAN YRS, From a) Vol. xviii.—10, (Photo.

Page 83

14 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. wings fully expanded and perfectly motionless ; then they will suddenly erect their lovely plumes, enveloping the whole body, with wings ex- panded and all their splendour displayed, to the delight and admiration of the watching females. It is a wonderful exhibition of flaunt- ing vanity; a bewildering display of “showing- off” tactics probably unparalleled among the feathered tribe. The mode of capturing the Lirds is intensely interesting. First of all, the native carefully selects a “play tree” wherein to ope- rate. As the lowest branches are often eighty feet from the ground, he reaches them from a smaller tree growing close by. It may happen, how- ever, that this adjacent tree is not tall enough for his purpose, in which case he throws a length of rattan cane, weighted at one end, over the lowest branch of the larger tree, and constructs his ladder. He then climbs to the topmost outer branches and there con- structs a tiny hut, which, when completed, dan- gles from the branches two hundred feet above, for all the world like a large beehive, swinging with the slightest breeze. In this frail, swaying structure the hunter, armed with a bow and blunt arrows, will patiently remain for days before an opportunity of secur- ing a specimen occurs. His food is supplied every morning by another native, who remains at the foot of the tree during the day to secure THE PICTURE SHOWS HOW THRE NAT! CURIOUS BIRDCAGE-LIKE BASKET SU: INALLY BRID AkROW, WIE CATCH THE BIKD OF PARADIS ED IN THE TKEES THE HUNTER W G HIS QUAKRY DOWN WITH A THKEE+H | FETIEKS ITS LBGS, any bird which may fall killed or stunned. Only the adult males with long plumes are sought after, for were this not the case this beautiful species would long ago have become extinct. ‘To secure living specimens the natives employ an arrow having three prongs at the end. These prongs are barbed oun the inside, ana ihe object is to shoot at the legs of the bird, which is thus, as it were, fettered and flutters help- lessly to the ground, where it is secured by the hunter's waiting assistant. For killing or stun- ning his quarry the native uses a somewhat dif- ferent weapon. We left Silba- tabata in a Chi- nese junk bound for Wanumbai, a village situated at the head of a creek running southward into the island of Kobroor. Here we met some Ceramese sailors on their way home to Ceram; they had been trading here and were sailing home —a_ dis- tance of three hundred miles— in an open prau. On arriving at the farthest navi- gable point, al- though the place was swarming with alligators, the Chinese jumped into the waterand bathed twice a day. The traveller in the wilds expects little in the way of luxury or even comfort, but when we discovered that our sleeping-place, the roof of which was one foot from our heads when we lay down, was also tenanted by monstrous and voracious centipedes, we determined to seek what rest we might on the sloping roof of the vessel. ae awe Ms

Page 84

IN QUEST OF THE BIRD OF PARADISE. 75 From a) THE CHINESE JUNK IN WHICH MR, PRATT TRAVERSED THE CHANNELS. (Photo. The forest here is very fine and presents blind or shutter, opening outwards, is fixed. a striking contrast to Silbatabata, where the Here we saw carved posts representing male vegetation does not grow so luxuriantly. and female Aru islanders. In the houses great The village of Wanumbai is situated on the —_ numbers of bows and arrows were stored, their top of a hill, : ends resting the highest on shelves on part of which each side of is reached by the building steps and lad- and forming, ders. These are of three kinds — steps cut in a solid trunk of a large tree; a ladder similar to those in use amongst our- selves; and steps cut in as it were, a ceiling under the roof. We anchored here for the night and left early next morning, reaching a second strait before sun- down; here the coral rock. again we were ’ The houses obliged to an- are divided chor, as_ the and have windows, to which, curi- ously enough, a kind of Venetian tide was against us. ‘The shore was fringed — with beautiful white sand, From a) A GROUP OF ARU ISLANDERS, by CaO (eeeto,

Page 85

76 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. and cocoa-nut palms grew in profusion in place of the evil-smelling mangroves. In the cliffs are some interesting caverns, tunnelled in a curious fashion, presumably by the action of water. The hospitality of the natives is unbounded. Whereas the inhabitants of civilized countries are content to invite individuals, and not very many of them, the natives of the Aru Islands “request the pleasure of the company ” of whole provides them with more. During these four days dancing is kept up incessantly throughout the twenty-four hours to the accompaniment of drums and gongs. When all the liquor has been consumed hosts and guests attack several houses, pull them down, and set fire to them. Exactly what the object of this incendiarism is <. I could not make out. There Raph; seemed to be no malice in ie dew ? THE VILLAGE OF CASEBA--THE AUTHOR AXD HIS SON WERE THE FIRST WHITE MEN TO VISIT THIS PLACE. From a Fhoto. villages! For instance, the men of Silbatabata will remember that they have enjoyed the hospi- tality of the inhabitants of Wanumbai some time previously, and accordingly send them a comprehensive invitation, which includes all the inhabitants of the village. This is, of course, accepted, and the guests proceed to dress them- selves for the occasion. Clothing is to them a superfluity; and thus “full dress” consists merely of all the trinkets and little treasures they possess suspended from or attached to any part of the body which will support them. On arriving at the village no time is lost in prelimi- naries ; the serious work of enjoying themselves is commenced immediately. The hosts have in the meantime gathered together a good supply of methylated spirit of a most villainous nature, and Chinese port wine. With these vile decoc- tions they soak themselves systematically for four or five days. When one supply has given out a rush is made for the Chinese trader, who it, and I can only conclude that the Aru islander has a peculiar sense of humour, and considers this a capital joke with which to end the feast. These functions invariably culminate in this extraordinary manner. For four days we threaded our way through lonely channels without perceiving a sign of life, amid a deathly silence, unbroken during the day even by the note of a bird, though at night the crackling of the shellfish, the call of the Tally- gallus or scrub turkey, and the occasional grunt of the wild-pig broke the monotonous stillness. We then reached the Mikoor channel, a place , which lives in the memory as consisting chiefly of mangrove swamps, maddening sandflies, and clouds of mosquitoes. Here our pilot, a Macassar man, lost his bearings, and, having run short of water, at day- break sent a man to search for a village where we might obtain some.. After an absence of six hours he returned with; the news that he could

Page 86

IN QUEST OF THE BIRD OF PARADISE. 17 find no sign of human habitation, so we sent him off in another direction. Shortly after he left a canoe full of natives came in sight. These conducted us to a village named Caseba. Under the guidance of a native we went out with our guns in search of fresh food, and here our expedition well-nigh came to a disastrous con- clusion. A short distance from the village we saw a flock of pigeons, and though they were flying too high to hit, we nevertheless fired at them ten or fifteen times. Almost immediately some twenty savages, armed with drawn bows and arrows and with shields on their arms, appeared round the corner of a hill. Our firing We were told that they grew rice here without water. The Dutch try to prevent the smuggling of opium into Aru, but, in spite of their vigi- lance, we saw many men reduced to complete wrecks by the use of the drug. After another monotonous journey of five days we arrived at the small village of During, having anchored every alternate six hours on account of the strong currents, which are influenced by the monsoons. The mangrove swamps smelt fearfully and swarmed with sand- flies, but were remarkably free from mosquitoes. From During we rowed for four days and reached the village of Morai, situated a long From a) had evidently alarmed them, and they hurried out to repel the supposed invaders. Fortunately for us our guide belonged to their tribe, but as he was walking behind us they had not at first perceived him. However, he explained matters in time, and so averted what might have proved a fatal ending to our excursion. The village consisted of three very large houses, the largest we saw in Aru, being twelve yards wide and fourteen yards long, with the floor about five feet from the ground. We were told that we were the first white men who had ever reached the place. There was here a boy of very light colour—an Albino—but, unfortu- nately, we did not obtain a photograph of him. ONE OF MR. PRATT'S CAMPS IN THE INTERIOR. (Photo. way inland at the south-east corner of the Island of Kobroor. During the evening the natives came on board and obtained from our Chinese, on credit, fifty bottles of methylated spirit very much diluted with water. On this delectable beverage they promptly got intoxi- cated, but subsequently complained that the Chinamen did not make it strong enough, or, as they expressed it, “not hot enough,” which shows that the Moraians are by way of being connoisseurs of strong liquors. The natives hereabouts live principally on sago, and we noticed they did not appear so strong or healthy-as those, of other localities. We found. a)great difficulty(in trading with the

Page 87

78 THE WIDE WORLD Aru islanders, as they demanded in exchange articles not only hard to obtain, but also to transport, such as elephants’ tusks five feet long, large gongs, some of them three feet across, and very heavy large vases, two and a half feet high, in which they keep water. ‘These are the only things for which they will exchange the birds A STREET IN DORO, From a Photo. of Paradise, so that it will be seen we had considerable trouble in making our purchases. We left Morai just as the moon rose, and shortly afterwards ran full-tilt upon a coral reef—a by no means infrequent occurrence. As the water was falling, we propped the prau up and at low tide the reef was dry. We spent the night in mending the craft and baling the water out, and in the morning, with the return of the tide, reached the main strait and made for Loran, which is situated about nine miles up a creek. Loran, in comparison with the other villages, is a very populous place owing to the fact that, for the Aru Islands, water is exceedingly abundant. We had heard that the wealthiest man in the village possessed a living MAGAZINE. Paradise bird, and therefore called upon him with a view to buying it. ‘That he was wealthy according to native ideas was proved by the number of muzzle-loading guns and gongs that he possessed—certain signs of prosperity among these simple folk. We had great difficulty in inducing this Aru Croesus to part with the bird, but the price we offered him was so tempting that at last he could no longer refuse, and we attained the object of our visit. We returned to Dobo after much suffering, but very well satisfied with the results of our expedition, for after staying three months in camp at Silbatabata we obtained no fewev than thirteen specimens, and on our return from our cruise we found that our native agent bad succeeded in obtaining two more, which, with the seven we ourselves had secured, made a grand total of twenty-two living specimens of this rare and magnificent bird, and succeeded in landing twenty alive in Europe.

Page 88

A RACE WITH DEATH. By W. A. Scott, oF Rawiins, Wyomine, U.S.A. The tale of a boy’s wild run for life on snow-shoes with a pack of ravenous wolves in hot pursuit. It seemed that nothing but a miracle could save him—and the miracle came to pass! Sai friends the Wallaces, at the time of which I write, resided just thirty- | eight miles from the bustling town of Leadville, Colorado, and one mile from the crest of the Con- tinental Divide. There they had lived for two years, engaged in developing their mining claims, which showed better yalues as they went deeper, until at last their mill-runs and assays began to attract the attention of mining investors. Now a party of capitalists were coming out to look at the claims, with the intention of trail he had just traversed, jarring upon the ghostly silence and causing the boy to start apprehensively, while his ruddy cheeks blanched. Only too well he knew what the sound meant, and as he paused, undecided what to do, a second mournful cry quivered on the frosty air, echoing and reverberating among the canyons below in a way that made Donald’s flesh creep. He knew that the howling was that of wolves in quest of prey, and he was fully aware that these gaunt grey devils will follow a quarry to the bitter end, stung to madness by buying them if they met with their approval. An old soldier, Captain Whit- ney by name, was the holder of a one-third interest in the pro- perty, and as a result the Wal- laces found it necessary to ac- quaint him with the fact that the capitalists were coming to see the property on the morrow. ‘The captain lived on Brush Creek, on the opposite side of the Divide, eleven miles from the home of the Wallaces, and it fell the pangs of hunger. Heaven help the luckless wanderer who chances to be abroad upon the lonesome hills when the packs are out ! Wallace realized that he was face to face with the greatest danger his wits had ever been called upon to overcome, and he knew how helpless he was —without a weapon of any kind with which to defend himself. His only chance of to the eldest boy, Donald, to make the trip on snow-shoes and tell the captain the news. Donald was a youth of twenty, with all the sturdy endurance of his hardy Scotch ancestors, and the journey, under ordinary circumstances, was nothing but play for him. After supper one evening, therefore, he put on his long ashen skis, or Norwegian snow- shoes, and swung off toward the top of the Divide, a mile away. The moon, which was just full, was rising over the snow-clad peaks to the eastward, lighting up the wilderness of white-enshrouded crag and canyon with silvery radiance. An eerie silence that could almost be felt brooded above the dead-white world around him. Twenty minutes after he left the house Donald stood on the top of the Divide ; here he stopped to get his breath before starting on the long, swift run down the mountain. Looking at his watch, he noted that it was just eight o'clock. Then, even as he snapped the cover shut, a long, blvod-chilling howl came floating up the From a Photo. DONALD WALLACE. . before the incident here described. safety lay in flight — swift and silent, with the odds ten to one against his reaching the cap- tain’s house ahead of the hunger-maddened wolves. But Donald was no coward, and so he set his teeth and sprang at the first steep slant like a deer, spurning the frozen crust beneath his feet with all the power of his youthful muscles. The long downward slopes before him consisted of a succession of pitches and flat benches, of varying degrees of steepness and extent, and he hoped to make good progress ere the prowling wolves discovered him. The first slope was nearly two miles in length, and by the time he was half-way down it he was dropping through the icy air with tremendous velocity, while the wind roared past his ears like a cyclone, so that he found it necessary to hold his head low to get his breath. He had his alpenstock to guide his course and to act as a brake in case of need, but he could not afford to use it now, as the need for speed was too great. On and on _he flew, swooping down on to the firse flat ‘stretch’ liké-an arrow. So taken a few years

Page 89

80 THE WIDE great was his speed that for a quarter of a mile he swept across the white plain like some great winged bird; then, as his pace decreased sufficiently, he lapsed into a leaping stride that ate up the distance between himself and the next slant with amazing quickness. As he topped the next slope and shot down its gleaming surface a chorus of fiendish howls was flung down the wind behind him, telling unmistakably that the pack had reached the far edge of the flat he had just crossed and were hot upon his trail. Like a meteor he flashed WORLD MAGAZINE. toe-straps broke and he went head over heels on the frozen snow, the disabled shoe sliding away ahead ! For a moment a feeling of absolute horror came over him, but not for an instant did he think of giving up. Panting, he pushed himself along until he overhauled the truant shoe, at the same time hastily untying the silk muffler which he wore about his neck. This he bound quickly around the. snow-shoe and over his toes; then he stepped, hopped, and slid until he topped the rise, where he scudded away down the k HE FLASHED down the steep and on to the bench bclow, which was nearly a mile and a half in width. Here he put forth every effort to reach the next pitch, for this was a good four miles in length, and he knew that he could get a good lead of the pack if he could only reach it first. But could he? On and on he raced, the perspiration dripping from his face, his muscles straining, and his breath coming in great sobs from the fearful effort. At last he saw the white plain dip away before him and his flagging spirits went up with a bound. Only two hundred yards more and he would be speeding away again, momentarily increasing the distance between himself and the snarling brutes behind. Only one hundred more—and then with a sharp snap one of his incline on one foot, holding the disabled one up and only sliding with the heel of it. The slight delay had told fearfully against him, however, and the maddened wolves were not four hundred yards away when he started down the slant. Here he was able to leave them behind again, and he smiled grimly as he thought of their baffled fury at beholding their prey vanishing from their longing eyes. But even as he smiled he met with a Nemesis in the shape of a mountain juniper half-buried in the snow, which seemed to rise up suddenly ahead of him like a wraith. Donald made a frantic effort to dodge it, but steering on two,feet and on one is quite different, as he found to his dismay when he tried it. This juniper bush was neither! kergey ner ‘tall,’ butt served its fell

Page 90

A RACE WITH “HE DESCRIBED A GIGANTIC CURVE IN THE AIR AND PLUNGED THROUGH THE FROZEN CRUST OF THE SNow.” purpose; the tough ash runner of the boy’s serviceable ski shot under the strong lower limbs. The shoe bent sharply; then it broke short off with a report like the crack of a pistol. As for Donald, he described a gigantic curve in the air and plunged through the frozen crust of the snow many feet down the hill-side, like a rock dropped into a well. He disappeared in the eight feet of snow as completely as he would have done had the earth suddenly yawned and engulfed him. A dreadful feeling of despair overtook him as his body came to rest, for he realized that nothing short of a miracle could save him now from the foam-flecked jaws of those awful brutes so close behind. Even while the grey marauders, howling hideously, were straining every. nerve to reach him, the boy struggled up out of the white smother and glanced desperately around in quest of something with which to defend him- self, for Donald was no coward, and if he must Vol, xviii, DEATH. 81 meet death it should be fighting to the last breath. As he dashed the snow from his eyes he saw a few yards down the slope what he took to be the slender tops of a couple of small dead spruce. Promptly he struggled down towards them, for it occurred to him that he might break one of them off and use it against the pack in the place of a better weapon. Reaching them, with the howling of the wolves growing momentarily nearer and nearer, he made a hurried grab at one of the seeming dead spruce. Then he got the surprise of his life, for even as he touched it he realized with a start that the two spruce stubs had suddenly be- come a pair of sixteen-foot skis, sticking upright in the-snow ! A miracle had been wanted to save him, and the miracle had happened. You may be sure that he did not stop to figure out how the skis came there* or to ques- tion the mysterious ways of Pro- vidence. In a trice he had the shoes flat on the snow, had jammed the toes of his shoes into the toe-straps, and made a flying leap down the hill, while a de- moniac outburst of howls rang in his ears as the wolves saw their quarry once more on the move. Glancing over his shoulder as he leapt forward, Donald saw, with a sudden tightening at his heart-strings, that the ravenous brutes were now not a hundred yards away, and coming like the wind. Bending far forward, he struck out madly until he could no longer make his strokes fast enough ; then he bent low and swept down the slope at lightning speed. For a moment the band seemed to gain on him; then, as his pace increased, they saw *The seeming miracle evinced in the finding of the skis by Donald at this critical moment loses much of its miraculous aspect inthe light of the subsequent explanation. It seems that Captain Whitney owned two mining claims about half-way between his home and the top of the Divide, upon the trail which Donald followed in his wild run. Just two ‘days before Donald made the trip the captain had occasion to make an excursion on snow-shoes to the aforesaid claims. The season being the spring of the year, a frozen crust, three or four inches in thickness, formed on the Snow during the night, but by midday the top, for a couple of inches or so down, became soft and slushy, sticking to the snow-shoes very badly, although a man could traverse it with his ordinary boots without breaking through. Th finding he could walk more comfortably than he could s the sn walked home, it being } another trip, as he as that they pro aliace came that way fl cre'when Donald THe AurHor.

Page 91

82 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. him drawing slowly away from them and gradually merging into the dim and hazy distance of the moonlit wastes far below. But they did not give up the chase, these shaggy grey trailers of the forest, for the pangs of hunger were tearing at their vitals and ever urging them’ on, their long, gaunt bodies doubling and stretching forth with the rhythmic precision and swiftness of a high-speed engine ; and they flitted down the long slope like the sombre shadow of a wind-driven cloud. The remainder of the distance was a series of short slopes and benches ; the slopes were not so steep as those Donald had just passed. Here Donald knew that the wolves would surely gain on him, so that it was a question whether he would have gained enough in this last long slide to enable him to reach the house ahead of them. If not——! The thought of the dread alterna- tive sent him ahead with compressed lips and wide-staring eyes. When he reached the flat he raced across it in a long, lop- ing stride that covered the ground with as- tonishing speed. On and on he dashed, literally fighting for his life, but still his grim grey pur- suers gained on him. And now the long-sus- tained effort was beginning to tell on the plucky lad, for his breath was coming in laboured gasps and the: haunting cry of the pack rang down the wind behind him in an ever-increas- ing crescendo, telling him all too plainly that they were lessening the distance between them- selves and him with cruel speed. He wondered dimly as he toiled doggedly on whether he would reach the house before they overtook him, or how long it would be before their snapping jaws pulled him down. His legs had by this time become as pillars of lead, which he was swinging with untold effort over the crusted snow. Then suddenly he shook off the treacherous lassitude which was slowly stealing over him, for as he topped a little rise he beheld the light in the captain’s window gleaming like a beacon of safety before his aching eyes. Only one more mile, and he knew there lay a haven of refuge around which his savage pursuers might howl themselves hoarse. But could he make it? Already the band were close upon him again— gaining, ever gaining, as exhaustion crept upon him. One almost superhuman struggle and the panting boy gained the top of the last pitch. At the bottom was the panel fence that enclosed the captain’s house. Down he swooped, and as he neared the fence he made a mighty effort to leap it. : The red-tongued fiends were almost touching “THE RED-TONGUED FIKNDS WERE ALMOST TOUCHING THE -HEELS OF HIS SKIS.” the heels of his skis as they left the snow and sailed upward ; but he had taxed his strength too far, and just failed to clear the top of the fence. One foot slipped under it, and after turning a couple of spread-eagle somersaults Donald brought up against the doorstep with a crash which all but rendered him unconscious. Collecting his scattered faculties, he regained his feet and staggered into the house just as one of the shaggy demons made a vicious snap at him, leaving a ragged hole in the skirt of his coat to testify how close had been his race with death.

Page 92

DOWN THE CRANK -PIT. AN ENGINEER'S TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE. By E. J. Murpny. Mr. Murphy writes: ‘This story was told to me, as described, by a passenger crossing to Montreal by the liner on board which I was an officer. I have every reason to believe that it is strictly true.” AM very sorry, but passengers are not allowed on this deck.” I made this remark to an old gentleman that I had seen on the boat-deck on several occasions, gazing intently down into the engine-room. “T must apologize if I have intruded on forbidden ground,” he said, hastily, turning towards me as he spoke, “but the engines of this big ship fascinate me, and I can’t help coming to look at them. I know I am not allowed in the engine-room ; that is why I come up here. They remind me of a time when I and they were more intimate with each other. I don’t mean these particular engines, but those of the old type—the compound engine.” “These engines are quadruple expansion,” I remarked, falling into conversation with him instead of doing my duty and ordering him off the boat-deck. : “Yes, I know ‘they are,” he said, ‘and that to a certain extent is why I am so curious about them, for I have never seen that type of engine before.” “ Are you an engineer ?” I asked. ~“T was,” he replied, thoughtfully, with a far- away look in his eyes; “but that was twenty- five years ago, and I haven't been inside an engine-room since, for it was then that my hair turned to the silver colour that it is now.” I began to get interested, for as he spoke he gave a shiver, and I could see that he was thinking of some unpleasant ex- perience ; so I asked him if it was through an acci- dent that his hair turned white. “Yes,” he replied, slowly, as my question brought him out of the reverie he had fallen into, “and an accident I have never spoken about since it happened to me, for it always sets my nerves quivering whenever I think about it. Besides, a good many people would not believe me if I told them what I had passed through, especially engineers.” rom a) CUNARD § s. ‘ ALGERIA,| “Why, how is that?” I asked. “Well, to be frank with you, I fell down the high pressure crank-pit when the ship I was in was going full speed, and, as you know, that means certain death in ninety-nine cases out of every hundred. But I came through it all right, although the agonies and sufferings that I expe- rienced no one could ever realize, except those ‘ew who have passed through a like ordeal.” By this time we had walked along the boat- deck and were opposite the door of my room, and as I was greatly interested in what my new acquaintance had been telling me, I invited him into my cabin and asked him if he wouldn’t tell me all about his accident. He thought for a while, shivering slightly at intervals. Then, pulling himself together, he consented, and this is what he told me, which I have set down in his own words as near as I possibly can. I was second engineer of the Cunard liner Algeria, which formerly ran between Liver- pool and New York. We left Liverpool as usual on a Saturday afternoon in March, and encountered exceptionally fine weather until we reached the longitude of the forties. ‘There we met with a terrific storm—blowing “heavens hard” from the southward. A mountainous sea rose as the wind increased in violence, and our ship commenced to roll and ON WHICH FHIS ADVENTURE YAPPENED,

Page 93

84 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. labour heavily, making things very uncomfort- able and dangerous for us engineers down below. I came on watch at four a.m., and could tell by the movement of the ship that the storm had not abated since I left the engine-room at eight p.m. the previous evening. I entered the engine-room when eight bells were struck, and was about to descend the ladder when the ship gave a couple of very heavy rolls which nearly threw me over the iron rails that encircled the upper plat- form. After that I became more cautious and descended the ladder with a firm hold on the rails. When I reached the middle plat- form I com- menced walking round the engine to ascertain if any of the bearings were hot, before taking charge. As I passed along the platform leading between the high and low pressure piston-rods, the ship gave an extra heavy lurch to. star- board, causing me to lose my equili- brium. To save myself from being thrown to the bottom of the engine-room, I grabbed hold of the rail nearest the high-pres- sure piston-rod. In spite of this, however, my feet swung clear of the platform and went over to starboard with the swing of the ship. My heart was in my mouth! I knew that if the ship repeated the roll to port I should swing that way, and most likely be dashed to the bottom of the crank-pit by the downward stroke of the piston-rod. As luck would have it, she rose slowly to an upright position and remained so for a couple of seconds, giving me ample time to scramble on to the platform—a breathless and thoroughly frightened man. Grasping the rails on either side of me when I regained my position on the platform, I stared “My FEET SWUNG CLEAR OF THE PLATFORM.” at the piston-rod and then down to the crank- pit, shuddering to think of what might have happened had the ship rolled to fort. Most likely I should have fallen into the crank-pit, where the reciprocating crank-shaft would have pounded my body to a jelly. I sickened at the thought of what I had escaped, and slowly made my way down to the bottom of the engine-room, where I met the third engineer, whom I had come to relieve. “Good heavens, man!” he shouted, as he saw me. ‘What is the matter with you? Are you ill?” I answered him in the negative, and then told him how I had just escaped with my life. - “You have got to be very care- ful,” he said, as I finished speak- ing. “She's kicking up an awful dust down here, and these plates are as slippery as ice !” He remained with me until I had fully regained my equanim- ity, and then went up to his room, leaving me in charge. By this time the ship was not pitching quite so much, so I had no occasion to attend the throttle valve to ease down the racing. But she still rolled terribly at times, and then it was as much as I could do to keep my feet on the plates. Presently I sat down on the vice bench and lighted my pipe. After several minutes’ smoke I felt myself again and thought no more of my close shave. When I had finished my pipe I proceeded to make a thorough inspection of the engine, to see that there were no hot bearings, and also to make certain that the greaser had oiled all the working parts that required attention. When I passed between the two piston-rods on the middle platform I was more careful than on my previoas journey, and grasped the rails on either side of me with a firm hold. I finished the inspection to my complete satisfaction, and proceeded down the ladder to the vice bench to finish a littlesjob that I had

Page 94

DOWN THE CRANK-PIT. 85 started when on watch the previous evening. I could feel that there was a high sea running, ~ for the ship gave some terrible rolls at times, moving very rapidly from one side to the other. She also had a list of about ten degrees to starboard, caused, I suppose, by the force of the wind on her port side. This had a tendency to make her roll more to starboard than she would have done otherwise. When I reached the bottom of the ladder on the port side, which was the working side, I made for the vice bench, and had just on reached it when the Algeria gave a very heavy lurch to star- board. Ere I could balance myself my feet slipped from under me, and I fell in a heap on the plates. I grabbed at the vice bench, but missed it, and went sliding towards the engine. Wildly I dug my elbows and fingers and the toes of my boots into the diamond- shaped grooves of the plates to try to stop myself, but to no pur- pose; I still slid to- wards the engine. Next, shooting between the two columns, I struck the bearing that en circled the centre part of the crank-shaft and almost toppled into the high-pressure crank-pit. In fact, it was only with a great effort that I managed to retain my balance, for I was just on the edge of the plate. The smallest possible weight on the crank-shaft side would have hurled me to my doom. When I had fully realized the danger I was in and the death I had just escaped, a terrible fear seized me and I sprang to my feet with a hoarse cry and rushed over to the vice bench. I was unmanned, unnerved; and I have no doubt that I looked a pitiful object, for there was I, a man of six feet and built in proportion, grovelling on the plates like a whipped cur. As I crouched there my ears caught the familiar screech of a hot bearing. My thoughts were immediately centred on that, and I sprang to my feet oblivious of my other troubles. Screech — screech — screech, came the sound, “PELL IN A HEAP ON THE PLATES. and presently I located it somewhere in the vicinity ofsthe crank-pit. I tried to shut out all thought of the dangers of the crank-pit and to concentrate my mind on the hot bearing. What if it should be one of the eccentric straps, and it should smash and the engine break down? And what if the junior engineer or the greaser should come into the engine-room and see me in my contemptible position? What a low-down, miserable coward I should seem in their estimation ! . These thoughts and others of a similar nature decided me, so, pulling myself together with a great effort, I seized an oil-can and staggered over towards the crank- pit. I examined the eccentric straps and all the working parts about where I stood, but could find no trace of a hot bearing. I stood looking about me for a while to listen if the sound would come again; but it didn’t, so T turned to walk back to the vice bench, for my nervousness was getting the better of me again, and I wanted to tush away as quickly as possible. Thad only just turned my back to the engine when that terrible screech broke out again, and this time it sounded almost in my ear. I gave a violent start, and my feet slipped on the greasy plates, causing me to stagger backwards. I have no doubt that I should have regained my equilibrium again had not the ship just then given a heavy lurch to starboard, throwing me backwards against the rail that guarded the crank-pit. The lower part of my back struck the top of the rail, and I went over into space. Mechanically I glanced towards the side I was falling, and—horrors upon horrors !—I saw that I was dropping into the crank-pit! I tore wildly at the air, but nothing met my fingers, as I hurtled downwards—downwards to my doom. : The feelings I experienced in that brief instant are indescribable. I wondered if the descending stroke-ef_the shaft would hurt me Ps ) OTe

Page 95

86 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. much ; would it kill me outright, or should I suffer a lingering and horrible death ? + The next thing I knew was that I was lying in a heap on the starboard side of the crank-pit, with the shaft rushing past me every second as it proceeded on its reciprocating course. I knew I was safe for the time being, but I could not quite realize my position. I had a_ numbing pain about my right shoulder, on which I must have fallen, and a large lump was rising on the side of my head. I crouched close into the corner of the pit so that I should be as far away from the stroke of the great shaft as I could possibly get. I was in a dazed condition, and trembling violently from head to foot. 1 was also in a ter- rible predicament, for my prison con- sisted of an oblong pit only twelve feet by four and six feet deep, and my jailer, the crank-shaft, which monopolized the whole of the pit with the exception of a small space on either corner, gave me no chance of escape. I dared not move, for I was frightened of slipping towards the centre. If I did slip that way I knew the flying shaft would crush me, for it only cleared the bottom of the pit by a few inches. My one little hope of escape was to spring out of the pit as the shaft went past me. But I dismissed that idea from my mind, for I only had one second to do it in, and I knew I could never get up from my crouching position and out of the pit in that short space of time, I therefore resorted to shouting. I commenced at the top of my voice, and yelled until I was hoarse; but the noise the engine made drowned my voice, so that no one could have heard it except at close quarters. At last, in utter despair, I stopped, wondering if I should at last meet with my death after three times escaping it so miracu- lously. The bottom of the pit was very greasy, and, with the ship still rolling heavily, I was “) RURTLED DOWNWARDS—DOWNWARDS TO MY DOOM,” frightened of being shot to the centre to instant death. There I sat, in my cramped and uncomfort- able position, wondering dully if I should be rescued in time, for the junior engineeg or the greaser might not miss me for an hour to come. I knew it was only a matter of minutes since I had fallen into the pit, yet it seemed like as many hours. Whilst I sat crouched up in my corner I had a vague idea that the ship was lurching heavily. Presently she gave a heavy roll to star- board and then re- peated it to port. As she rolled to port I was shot across the slippery bottom of the pit, and came in contact with the opposite side, strik- ing it heavily. As luck would have it, the shaft was rising out of the pit when I commenced to slide across, otherwise I musthavebeenkilled. The force with which I struck the port side seemed to wake me to my danger, so I planted my back against one side of the pit and jammed my feet firmly against the other, so that I could not be shot back again. My greatest agony now commenced, for I was on the high side of the pit. Owing to the ship having the list to starboard aforementioned and her heavy rolling, it was as much as I could do to keep myself from being hurled back to the starboard side again. Once or twice the labouring vessel’s lurches nearly dislodged me from my position, but I managed to hold on. My strength was now taxed to its utmost, for the walls of the pit were very greasy, and every now and then I felt myself gradually slipping inch by inch towards the centre. Once or twice I thought of letting go my hold on the walls of the pit and taking my chance of getting across to the starboard side again. But then I thought of that deadly shaft coming down on my body if I failed to slide across quick enough, and I took a firmer hold again.

Page 96

DOWN THE CRANK -PIT. 87 Occasionally the ship rolled to port, and that gave me a chance to renew my position in the corner again. But it was terribly tiring work, and I felt my strength fast oozing away. As I slipped, and slipped, regaining my posi- tion when she rolled to port, and repeating the awful struggle over and over again, I began to take less interest in my life, for the strain was terrible to bear, and I was weary of the whole thing. My limbs were becoming numb, and as death seemed now to be almost certain, I thought once or twice of throwing myself towards the centre of the pit. One swift stroke of that mighty shaft would end my troubles for ever. But, no, I must not do that! I fancied I could see my little kitchen at home ; I could see my wife reclining in the rocking-chair by the fire, and the old clock on the mantelpiece. Then I made out another form. Yes, it was my little baby girl, sitting on her mother’s lap, her face breaking into the laugh I loved to see. She seemed to be looking straight towards me; and then with a shout she sprang off her mother’s lap and came running, with outstretched arms and laughing face, in my direction. “Go back! Go back!” I screamed at the top of my voice, for I thought, as my brain wandered, that she was coming into the crank-pit. My scream brought me back to my horrible position again, and I found myself almost in the track of the shaft. My strength was gone and my mind was gradually becoming a blank. I knew I was slipping slowly to my doom, yet didn’t seem to care nor try to stop myself. I recollect seeing the shaft pass me, grazing my body as it went by, and I also seemed to think that the ship was steadier and that the shalt was moving somewhat more slowly. I saw it reach the perpendicular position, and turn to descend ; then my mind became a blank, my muscles relaxed, and I sank into unconscious- ness. There is little more to be told. The greaser, when he came to the engine-room, commenced looking for me. Finding no trace of my whereabouts he became anxious, and went into the stoke-hold and told the junior engineer. This officer imme- diately came into the engine-room and took up his position by the throttle valve, ask- ing the greaser questions as to where he thought I had gone. 3efore the man could re- ply, my scream “(DEATH SEEMED NOW TO BE ALMOST CERTAIN.” of “Go back!” rang in their ears. The engineer, on hearing the voice coming from the crank-pit, immediately stopped the engine, thus saving my life. I was lifted out and carried to my room, where I lay for several days. I could never face the engine-room again, for whenever I tried to go down I became terrified and would rush back to my room. Naturally, therefore, I have never been inside an engine-room from that day to this.

Page 97

“The Land of Enchantment.” By H. W. Hansury. “The Land of Enchantment” is the Yellowstone National Park, a veritable natural wonderland, where, as the author says, ‘‘the hand of Destiny has gathered the forces of the earth together to pile up miracle on miracle.” Mr, Hanbury illustrates his description with some striking photographs. fairyland by day, inferno by night— has been well designated ‘“ The Land of Enchantment.” It is situated in the north-west corner of the State of Wyoming, its boundaries over- lapping Montana on the north and those of Idaho and Montana on the west. There, in the heart of the Rockies, far from the haunts of men, are giant geysers, cliffs of vol- canic glass, hills of brimstone, cauldrons of steaming clay, mud volcanoes, boiling springs, and terrace-building fountains; there, a won- derful lake, nearly a mile and a half above the level of the sea, giving rise to three of America’s greatest rivers—the Missouri, the Yellowstone, and the Columbia; there, the remarkable canyon of the Yellowstone—a ten-mile cleft in the earth, the awful silence of its depths broken only by the music of the rushing river and the roar of its great falls; there, in very deed, is “The Land of Enchantment.” To the dweller in cities the word “park” suggests a crowd of well-dressed people, a mili- tary band, fountains, Nowers, and the in- , evitable warning, , “Please keep off the | grass.” What an entirely — different picture is presented Ps by that of Yellow- stone! No bands, no crowds—instead, a great loneliness. No sounds save those of Nature, of the myriad insects, of the rushing, rvaring, and boiling of water, or of a cracking twig, as some great bear stealthily moves about in the forest, or a startled deer bounds into the From a) & COACHING STATION ON THE WAY 10 TIE PARK. distance. In size the largest “civilized” park is as nothing in comparison, that of Yellowstone covering an area nearly equal to half that of Wales. The distance between its eastern and western boundaries is, roughly, sixty-five miles, and between its northern and southern seventy- five. This enormous tract of country was “dedicated and set apart for the benefit and enjoyment of the people” by Act of Congress in the year 1872, and is America’s oldest and greatest park. Since its dedication, at which time it was still in its primitive condition, fresh from the hands of Nature, magnificent hotels have been built, roads have been made, and a branch railway has been constructed from Livingstone, on the Northern Pacific Railway, to Gardiner, at the northern boundary. In short, everything that it. was possible to do for the comfort and protection of the traveller has been done; and considering the countless obstacles in the way of such an undertaking, and the difficulties of transporting materials along the trail, through tracts of forest and across rivers and streams, the results obtained are little less re- - markable than the natural wonders seen on every side. In addition to the entrance at (sardiner, there is one near Dwelle, a few miles west of the western boundary of the park and within easy reach by coach from Monida, on the Oregon Short Line Railroad. A rough shanty and the in- evitable water - tank comprise the station ; one house, a couple _ of log huts, and the ) stables of the Mon- (Piet) -idaland Yellowstone

Page 98

“THE LAND OF Stage Company the “town.” Add _ to this description the fact that the place is situated on the crest of the Rocky Mountains, seven thousand feet above the level of the sea, with nothing but a bare, treeless waste on all sides, and the picture of Monida, as it stands to-day, is complete. Truly, not a particularly bright introduction to the incomparable beauties of the Yellowstone country. The traveller is given to understand that the so-called trail, or road, along which the coaches travel from Monida to and through the park was made famous by the raid of the Nez Perces Indians in 1877, when they were pur- sued by the Govern- Ment troops under General Howard, previous to which time it was known only to hunters and trappers. ‘To those uninitiated in the mysterious ways of the latter, until the park is reached this trail is principally conspicuous by its absence. For _ this reason, partly, the scenery ex route to Dwelle is not of particular interest to the traveller, his at- tention being taken up with other matters —the principal being whether it is better to remain in the coach and risk the chance of being maimed as it turns over, or simply to jump and take the chance of THE MAMMOTH PAINT- Yor, a broken neck. From a) Grayling Inn, Dwelle, is some sixty miles from Monida, and prettily situated in a clearing on the banks of the Grayling River. Although digni- fied by the name of “inn,” it is only a large hut, roughly built of logs. Here the weary traveller can put up for the night—and if he enjoys roughing it, it is a novel experience. The mosquitoes, however, are particularly fero- cious in this neighbourhood —probably they have Indian blood in their veins—and display an eagerness in sampling the “ tenderfoot ” which, although doing them considerable credit, is usually not appreciated by that unlucky indi- Vol. xviii, 12. WHICH PRODUCES A BUBBLING LIQUID HAVING ALL THE QUALITIES OF PAINT. ENCHANTMENT.” 89 vidual. The writer was told that a certain traveller, driven to desperation by their attacks, hid himself underneath the bath to avoid -them, and as they pushed their “beaks” through to get at him he riveted them up with a hammer ! Soon there was not room for a single more “rivet,” and, chuckling at his own astuteness, he was quietly going off to sleep when a fat mosquito, evidently in charge of the attacking party, suddenly said “Honk! honk!” at which they spread their wings and flew away with the bath, leaving their numerous relativés to con- tinue operations! The narrator of this story, carelessly toying with a six-shooter, solemnly assured the writer of his veracity, and the latter, like any sensible man, firmly believed him at the time, but is now convinced that he was taking such liberties with the truth as to grossly misrepresent the facts. From Dwelle, through a_ beautiful forest known as Christmas Tree Park, the trail enters the lovely canyon of the Madison, and finally crosses the boundary into the park. The traveller soon finds himself in a strange country. So strange is it that he doubts its reality, almost thinking he must only be dream- ing. At sunset, sitting comfortably under the veranda of the hotel which the Government has erected in this district, the whole country, as far as the eye can reach, appears to him to be on fire ; immense masses of boiling water are continually hurled into the air, dense clouds of vapour hang shroud-like over the country, steam hisses and roars on every side, and strange murmurings and rumblings come from below, deep down in the trembling earth, as if some mighty imprisoned giant raged cease- lessly beneath. The weirdness, the uncanniness of the scene is so overpowering, so overmastering, that on seeing it for the first time one can only gaze in amazement and in silence. WHite (Photo.

Page 99

go THE WIDE WORLD THE EXCELSIOR GEYSER, SITUATED IN “ No fewer than seventeen geysers are to be found in this district—the lower Geyser Basin, as it is called. Of these, the two largest are the Fountain and the Great Fountain—the former being quite near the hotel, the latter some two miles away. In close proximity to the Fountain Geyser there is a remarkable cauldron of mud, known as “The Mammoth Paint-Pot.” Its crater is filled with a white, bubbling liquid, something like lime in appearance, and possess- ing practically all the qualities of paint. It is for ever gurgling, boiling, and hoarsely muttering “Flop! flop!” and is certainly one of the most curious freaks of Nature to be seen in the park. Continuing along the trail, now exalted to something approaching the dignity of a road, many curious sights are to be seen. One of the most remarkable is the Excelsior Geyser, on the west bank of a pretty little river known as the “Firehole.” This geyser is the most powerful in the park, its crater being no less than three hundred and fifty feet in length and two hundred feet in width. It was long thought to be extinct, but in 1881 was discovered to be active and of enormous power.* During erup- tions immense masses of boiling water are hurled two hundred and fifty feet into the air, * 1am indebted to Mr. F. Jay Haynes, of St. Paul, Minn., for ermission to reproduce the photographs of the Excelsior and Old Faithful geysers and the hot spring in the lake,—Tu AUIiUK. HELL'S HALF-ACRE"—THIS GEYSER HURLS IMMENSE MASSES OF BOILING WATER TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY FEET INTO THE AIR. From a Photo. by Haynes, St. Paul, Minn. MAGAZINE. and pieces of rock torn from the crater and flung far away into the river. No wonder this region has earned foritself the eloquent title of ““ Hell’s Half-Acre.” What @ contrast is presented by Prisma- tic Lake and Tur- quoise Spring, close by! No photograph, painting, or descrip- tion can do justice to these beautiful hot springs. In the centre of the former the water is of a deep blue colour, changing to green and then to yel- low near the margin ; around it is a curious brilliant red formation, shaded with every colour of the rainbow, and outside this the greyish white of the geyserite on which the spring is situated. Turquoise Spring—hardly less beautiful—is a clear deep blue, not a ripple stirring its placid surface. Many geysers are to be found in this neigh- bourhood—-the Grotto, the Oblong, the Giant, and the Economic, so called because there is r “y Frou a)

Page 100

“THE LAND OF ENCHANTMENT.” gl =i INTERIOR OF THE OLD FAITHFUL INN. From a Photo, no overflow from it, its water, though thrown as high as twenty feet, falling back into the crater. One of the prettiest is the River- side Geyser. From this every eight hours an arching column of boiling water is hurled ninety feet into the air, the entire discharge falling into the river close by. Amidst these wonders stands one of the most curious buildings in America—the Old Faithful Inn. Built of rough logs and stone, its exterior is not particularly striking, but its interior is not only striking but remarkable. The great, lofty hall, with its stone chimneys and enormous fireplace, the galleries and staircases, the clock, the great trees support- ing the roof—these not only make it archi- tecturally unique, but invest it with an artistic charm purely its own. The view from the roof by daylight is surpassingly lovely. At night, by means of a searchlight—fancy a searchlight in Yellowstone Park !— many wild animals—bears, deer, and elk among others—can be seen prowling about, and a very good view of the geysers obtained, their appearance during eruptions being perhaps prettier than in the daytime, owing to the greater distinctness with which the rising clouds of steam can be seen. The Old Faithful Geyser, which is situated quite close to the hotel, is certainly seen to the best advantage under these conditions. Day and night, winter and summer, this geyser erupts every sixty-three minutes almost toa second. It begins with a few spasmodic spurts and the formation of dense clouds of steam, and THIS GEYSER ERU! then, without further warning, a huge column of boiling water shoots a hundred and fifty feet into the air, remaining almost stationary for about three minutes, when it as suddenly falls again and the er resumes its normal appearance—a little, innocent-looking pool of boiling water. The trail from the Old Faithful Inn to Yellowstone Lake passes through some of the most beautiful scenery in the world. Close at hand, a brawling little mountain stream tumbling from ledge to ledge; far below, the almost endless stretch of forest; and nestling among the distant mountains, the silver of a lake— Shoshone Lake ; and beyond that again, in fact, some fifty miles away, the three snow-capped peaks of the Teton Mountains lift their heads fourteen thousand feet above the level of the sea. Gradually the trail descends until far away the Great Lake of the Yellowstone and the distant fringe of mountains beyond come into view. E OLD FAITH D Nt MPNUTF be. by ey MIS Paul, Minn. Fao asthe

Page 101

92 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE \ Shalit 1 eM YOU CAN CATCH A FISH IN THUS LAKE AND ¢ : REMOVING 1 FROM THE 1 HE BOILING SPRING HIND THE ANGLEK ! "from a Photo, by Haynes, St. Paul, Minn. Hot springs are also to be found in this locality, the most remarkable undoubtedly being one which is situated ¢# the lake itself. Its crater is only a short distance above the level of the water, and it is possible to stand on it, catch a trout, immediately cook it in the spring, and, if the fisherman be so in- clined, eat it—all within a few minutes of having a “bite.” A little steamer, the Z//ah, makes a tour of the lake—which, curiously enough, is in shape not unlike a human hand, one portion, in fact, being called ‘“‘ Thumb” —afterwards landing the traveller at the Lake Hotel. The Mud Volcano, some few miles away, is one of the sights of the park. Imagine a huge crater, thirty feet in depth; at the bottom a pasty, grey, bubbling mud, con- tinuously belching with a muffled roar from a huge hole at the side; ever and anon a mass of mud, accompanied by nauseous fumes and steam, violently thrown up into the air, only to fall sullenly into the boiling, ever-restless mass. Such is the Mud Vol- cano. Gazing at it, a horror creeps over one, and a longing to escape from its repulsive, though strangely fascinating, presence. With a curious sense of relief the traveller turns again to the beautiful snow-clad mountains, the fcrests, the rushing streams, and the natural wonders of the scene amidst which this huge natural nightmare is set. The Grand Canyon and the river, with oe 5 F its rapids and falls, are alone worth going many thousand miles to see. Once seen, never can their beauties be forgot- ten. ‘To the writer, again in England, many a time in the quiet of the evening have his thoughts turned to that wonderful country. Again he seems to see the beautiful river flowing peacefully on between its forest-clad banks, the sud- den narrowing of its channel, its change of character, and its mad rush, boiling and seeth- ing, to the edge of the precipice, over which, in one beautiful, foaming leap of a hundred and forty feet, it falls on the rocks below. On, on it goes, and a short quarter of a mile below again leaps madly into space, and then, as if urged by ten thousand furies, rushes struggling on in

Page 102

“THE LAND OF ENCHANTMENT.” : 93 the depths of the Grand Canyon. The Grand Canyon! ‘That stupendous, majestic piece of Nature’s handiwork, before which all the other wonders of the park pale and sink into insignificance, before which the trembling, awe- struck traveller whispers to him- self: “It seems impossible that anything could be more beautiful! To have seen it is to have lived.” This sketch of Yellowstone is all but ended. The geographical features have been set down. The length and the breadth of it are before you, the height of its gushing fountains, and the depth of its wondrous falls. The camera, too, has lent its aid to give the eye a picture of this “Fairyland.” There is the sur- face of it. Yet, ere the pen is laid THE GREAT FALLS OF THE VEL LOWSTONE—" A BEAUTIFUL, FOAMING LEAP OF A From a) HUNDRED AND FORTY FEET. (rote, THE RAVIDS OF THE VELL Fron a) THE FALLS. aside, one is fain to try to shadow forth a something more—the in- wardness—the spirit of the fairy- land. The task is difficult—nay, more than that—impossible ! Fairyland! Ah! the word is ill chosen! Feeble, incomplete, it expresses but a tithe of what is meant. On every side are fashioned by touched and lovely forms Nature’s _ fingers, coloured to her perfect har- monies. There, in this little corner of the universe, the hand of Destiny, for some inscrutable, subtle reason beyond the mind of man to read or even guess at, has gathered the forces of the earth together to pile up miracle on miracl The tourist literature of America is always picturesquely alliterative and bristling with adjectives, but that dealing with this t won- derland is positively staggering in its wealth of verbiage. It is perhaps the hig e Yellowstone Park to stay that it genuinely (deserves it! st praise one can

Page 103

The Demon Snake. By GEorGE O. JERROLD. An extraordinary story from British Guiana. A monstrous boa-constrictor, believed by the super- stitious natives to be a demon in disguise, frightened away all the labourers and brought the work of a large plantation to a standstill. Mr. J errold relates how the “demon” was effectually vanquished by a still more potent spirit. J N our arrival at Port of Spain I was | agreeably surprised to see lying in a | remote corner of the harbour the Bermuda schooner, G/eaner, whose —— captain I had become acquainted with on a voyage or two back at Port Hamilton, the principal port of that little island. He was an Englishman with very pronounced Bermudian ideas and an equally pronounced Yankeeism of speech. As soon as opportunity would allow I hurried over to see him and found him already at the gangway to meet me. “ Halloa, old son!” was his hearty greeting, as he helped me out of the boat. “Bin expecting yeou this last hour ’n’a haf. Glad to see you, by ginger! Come right down, sonny, and let us have a long pow-wow. Guess you're glad to get aboard a decent ship after bein’ cooped up in that old bally-hoo of . yours.” I let him run on, as he led the way down to his pretty little cabin and put cigars and bottle and glasses on the table. He was on a trading voyage among the islands, he told me; picking up a little cargo here and a little there, and just going where his owners directed him by telegram. “What is your next port, Captain Dixon,” I asked him, “and when are you sailing ?” “We're bound for Ma- haicain, British Guiana, this trip,” he answered ; “but as to when we're sailing, that’s. more than I can tell. If I can clear out in the morning, I'll sail in the evening; if not, I guess it'll be Thursday morning.” “ Mahaicain!” I cried, suddenly. “By Jove! I wish I was going with you. There’s an old school chum of mine keeping a coffee plantation there ; I haven’t seen him for years.” “You don’t say so! Pity you couldn’t come with me. Guess Mr. Goodwin, my consignee, will know your friend all right.” “Who do you say—Mr. Goodwin? Is it Alexander Goodwin, a Scotchman?” “That’s the very man,” answered the captain, looking at me. “Know him?” “ Know him!” I ejaculated. “Why, that’s the fellow I mean!” “Well, now, if that ain’t jest the queerest coincidence! Say! Why can’t you get a few days’ vacation, and come over in the Gleaner? How long are you staying here?” “Ten or twelve days,” I answered, shaking ‘ my head as I thought of how unlikely such a thing as a holiday would be. “T'll be back in six,” said Captain Dixon. The combination of the captain’s arguments and my own wishes won the day, and I hurried “Uk TOOK FROM IT A FLAGFOLET ANB WITHOUT MURKy ADOC COMMESCED TO PLAY.”

Page 104

THE DEMON SNAKE. 95 back to my own ship, where I readily gained permission for a week’s holiday ; so, gathering together a few necessary articles, I once more pulled over to the schooner, intending to remain there until she sailed. The following afternoon, everything being ready, the anchors were weighed, and before sunset we had left Port of Spain on our weather quarter, and were bowling along over the blue waters of the Gulf of Paria, with the south-east trades blowing half a gale. When the sun had set and the cool night breeze made exertion at least tolerable, Captain Dixon and I sat and talked on the poop, watch- ing the moon rise out of the surrounding sea- mists. Suddenly he said: “1 have been going in for music since I saw you last. Let me give you a sample ; you’re getting mooney.” Extracting a small leather case from his pocket, he opened it, took from it a flageolet, and without more ado commenced to play. It was beautiful. I never would have be- lieved that such harmony could have been got out of that innocent-looking reed. The silvery notes chased each other, and tinkled and sobbed and rose and fell on the pure night air, so that I forgot myself and my sur- roundings until I was suddenly brought back to my senses by the cessation of the music and a loud laugh from the captain. “How's that?” he laughed. “Didn't know I was a budding Mendelssohn, eh? That’s my one diversion”—he held out the tiny flageolet-—“ I always carry it with me wherever I go. When I begin to get stale out she comes, and— hey, presto !—the gloom vanishes. It might come in handy some day —who knows?” He laughed again, as though half-ashamed of his childish enthu- siasm, never dreaming that his words were almost prophetic. All the next day the wind held good, and on the second morning we anchored in the little seaport of Mahaicain, at the mouth of the River Abari, midway between the Essequibo and Berbice rivers. ; After much haggling a bargain was struck with a native boatman, both Captain Dixon and myself deeming it best to go as far as we could by water. It was safer, for one thing, and saved us the fatiguing journey, in the heat of the day, through the dense and almost pathless forests. Before the sun had gained the meridian we arrived opposite a straggling Indian village, at the head of a muddy creek, where we dis- embarked. At once we were surrounded by a crowd of clamouring, half-naked natives, who had turned out ew masse to gaze upon and jabber over the almost unknown novelty of two white men. They werean evil-looking lot, these natives, of a dark copper colour, with great red- dyed teeth, and, instinctively, as they closed around, I gripped the butt of my revolver more tightly in my pocket. Very loath did any of the ill-favoured people seem to be to act as our guide through the forest which lay between us and Mr. Goodwin's house. A great amount of jabbering and point- ing and waving of arms was indulged in, till at last a young man, who, if not quite pleasant to look upon, was at least less repulsive than the others, volunteered for the task and we set off. Leaving the village we dived into the forest, and, preceded by our guide, followed the very narrow thread of beaten path. * idigitiaadiywk ckebUlt? Tis ror

Page 105

96 THE WIDE WORLD It was with a feeling of relief that we at length emerged once more into the bright sunlight and came into view of a broad stretch of savannah, while to our right, perhaps a mile away, upon a rising knoll, we could see the white painted walls and green lattices of Mr. Goodwin’s house and the boundary stakes of his coffee plantation. As we drew nearer both the captain and my- self were struck by the deserted appearance of the place. Not a sign of life was visible any- where, not a labourer worked in the fields, the doors and windows of the house were all closed, and desolation reigned everywhere. What was the matter ? we asked each other, blankly. Was Goodwin dead? Sudden deaths hereabouts, we knew, were as plentiful as cocoa- nuts. Our guide could tell us nothing that we understood ; but, on pointing to the house and making him understand by signs that we were wondering at the silence of the place, he com- menced talking rapidly, pointing and gesticu- lating, while the ghastly look of fear in his face made us feel that something untoward had happened. When we had got to within a quarter of a mile of the house the native’s growing fear apparently got the better of him, for he turned and fled, shouting wildly as he ran. ‘The oft- repeated words “spirito” and “ diablo” caught my ear and caused us again to hesitate. Shaking off the half-defined dread that was taking possession of us, we at length moved cautiously forward, keeping our eyes about us and our revolvers ready cocked. Making our way through between the servants’ deserted cabins and outhouses, we approached the rear of the silent house. I was about to knock, when the door was thrown suddenly open and Mr. Goodwin himself stood on the threshold. “Man, but I’m glad to see ye!” he cried, heartily, recognising me at once. His deeply sun-tanned face fairly blazed with the pleasure he felt as he grasped my hand and shook it vigorously. “Captain Dixon, I presume?” he continued, turning towards my companion. “Pleased to see you, cap’n, though I’m afraid you will have to go without your coffee this time. But come inside, come inside, and I'll tell you all about it.” He laughed—nervously, I thought—as he led the way into the semi-darkened house, closing the door securely behind us. “Whatever is the mystery, Alec?” I asked. “Where are all your servants and labourers ? Have they all left you?” “Every man jack of them,” he answered. “T got your letters by special messenger yester- day noon, and hadn’t a man to send down to MAGAZINE. meet you. of me.” “That's all right, old man,” I laughed. “TF only hope we can help you out of your trouble. I know Dixon here will be only too delighted to assist.” “Come and have some tiffin first, then,” said the planter, and forthwith led us into a room in the front of the house. ‘“ We will talk things over afterwards. It’s all ready, and we will just wait upon ourselves to-day.” After dinner, our cigars well alight, he told us his strange story. It appeared that about a week previous a little black baby of some three years old had been playing around in front of the house, whilst its mother busied herself with her duties inside. The child had suddenly and mysteriously dis- appeared, and, despite a most rigorous search, no trace of the youngster was found. The old mammy was beside herself with grief, and left immediately, with her husband and her other boy. “That was the beginning,” said Goodwin, sadly. “Two days later a young pig was missing, -the blood-stains near the sty telling only too well what had become of it. The next day my Trish terrier, Gyp, was seen for the last time, and things began to look serious. The servants had by this time become so alarmed, and their superstitions were so fully aroused that, with the exception of one or two of the bolder ones, they demanded their wages and left the place, bag and baggage, declaring the estate to be haunted by an evil spirit. “Though somewhat mystified and alarmed myself, I tried to talk some sense into them, but all I could do was of no avail. “The climax came yesterday morning when my man Iago, who had gone to fetch some bananas from the patch yonder ”—he pointed to the closed lattice facing us—‘“1an back scream- ing that he had seen a demon serpent as big round as his body and so long that he could not see either end ! “ At that the rest of the men stampeded and left me here alone. So you see,” he concluded, with a wry smile, “how opportune your arrival is. The only thing I think the demon serpent can be is a large boa-constrictor, though such a thing has not been seen around here for years past. By myself I could do nothing; but now that you are here I think we three might lay a trap to catch this supposed devil, and so bring my people back to me and enable me to work the plantation. Can I count you in, Captain Dixon?” “Ivery time, sir, every time,” assented the captain, heartily. That sort/ of thing just suits me down to'the ground, Treckon.” I don’t know what you'll think

Page 106

THE DEMON SNAKE. 97 Many were the plans and projects we dis- cussed to bring about the extermination of the great snake—if such the demon proved to be. At last, just as we had hit upon a mode of attack which seemed feasible, all our arrange- ments were upset by the captain, who had hitherto remained silent, remarking :— “Say, gentlemen, what’s to prevent us taking the creature alive? Enterprise is my one great failing, I reckon, and I can see dollars in this as plain as can be. Why, gentlemen, some of those dime shows up in the States would give a small fortune for such a worm as your servant described. Of course, it’s your snake, Mr. Goodwin, and I cal- culate you've got the first claim on him, but if you’ve no ob- jection I think we might get him alive.” This started an- other animated dis- cussion as to the ad- visability and possi- bility of the thing, but when, on being asked how he pro- posed to catch the boa, Captain Dixon suggested making it intoxicated, Goodwin and I burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. “Let me tell you something,” he went on seriously, as we wiped the tears out of our eyes. “ve seen dogs and cats and roosters and chickens made drunk for sport aboard ship, and I see no earthly reason why we can’t do the same with this wretched old worm of yours.” Then he started in, and talked and talked, bringing forward such convincing arguments that, finally, we agreed to adopt his scheme. We went to bed early, intending to rise with the sun and carry out the plan which we had agreed upon. How I envied the snoring captain as I lay through the interminable hours of that stifling night and fought the entire insect population of the tropics! At least, so it seemed to me. The night passed at length, however, and in the excitement of preparing for the capture of the great boa, I almost forgot the numerous smarting bites and blisters on my hands and face. Vol. xviii 13, First we built a strong case some four feet square, with a trap-door on one side, and bored it full of small holes; this was for our snake when we had caught it. Next—the captain superintended the whole business—a small sucking-pig was killed, and the blood, along with several pounds of rice, some bananas, a couple of handfuls of sugar, some aromatic sweet herbs, and part of the pig’s intestines, was put into a caul- dron, and the whole lot boiled over a fire. To this decoction, while boiling, we added a quart of na- tive white rum. “Tf that don’t make your worm get more excited than a cow- boy at a roundup,” smiled Captain Dixon, sniffing the sweet-smelling steam, “you can call me a ‘Pennsylvania Dutch- man.’ ” After boiling the mixture to a_ thick consistency it was taken off the fire to cool down and be- come jellified. While these pre- parations were being carried forward my attention was at- tracted by voices at the rear of the house, and, looking out, I found they proceeded from a dozen or so of natives who had ensconced themselves in one of the outhouses commanding a view of the banana patch. I judged, rightly, that they were some of the servants, who, having heard of the arrival of the two white strangers, very naturally thought they had come to put an end to the “devil serpent.” They had accordingly plucked up sufficient courage to venture over to see the fun. The cooling of the cauldron being complete, the contents were stuffed into the dead pig’s inside and the body drawn together and fastened in three places with a thin gelatinous weed. This was done so that the boa would get the whole of the mixture intact ; we depending upon the heat of the reptile’s stomach remelting the decoction and causing almost instantaneous digestion. The last act was performed by Alec Goodwin himself, who—guarded from one of the windows by the captdin and myself, armed “HE RAN HACK SCREAM- ING THAT HE HAD SEEN A DEMON SERPENT.”

Page 107

98 THE WIDE WORLD with shot-guns—went cautiously out and deposited the drugged carcass—-standing upright on its four feet so as to have a semblance of life—in the banana patch, where the great serpent was supposed to lurk. The pig stood in full view of, and about twenty yards distance from, the window where we proposed to keep watch. All being now ready the window was closed, and with strict injunctions as to silence we drew up our chairs, laid our firearms ready to hand in case of emergency, and, with eyes glued to the slits of the closed lattice, waited excitedly. Hour after hour we sat in that strained, almost cramped, position, but not a living thing moved in the banana patch save the numberless ants which promptly attacked the stuffed pig. Noon passed, and the captain’s growing rest- lessness at last broke bounds. Dragging forth his flageolet, he ex- claimed :— “Say, boys, I’m beginning to feel as dead as a Choctaw Indian! Here goes for a little diversion.” Thereupon he started to play a soft, dron- ing melody, typically West Indian in its broken time and seductive har- mony. As he played Good- win and I listened, still mechanically watching our decoy. While we watched, something seemed to stir at the foot of a large banana plant, and we stared at it breathlessly. Again there came the stir- ring and apparent upheaval of the ver- dure. Simultaneously we gave a_ little gasp and leaned for- ward. The music stopped—Dixon was interested also. “Play! play!” gasped Goodwin, without taking his eyes off the moving thing. Again the music struck up, and again we detected a move- ment among the plants, this time accompanied by a rustle of leaves. Suddenly from among the dead leaves there rose a mighty head, sway- ing this way and that, as though in rhythmic MAGAZINE. measure to the low, dreamy notes. Towering upwards, it slowly advanced, revealing to our fascinated gaze the undulating, scaly body of a monstrous boa-constrictor. Heavens! what a size it was; it seemed to have no end. To within a few feet of the dead pig it advanced, and then stopped. It had observed its prey. Its little scintillating eyes became smaller, and burned like coals of fire. The music ceased ; the horrible head stopped swaying, and poised for a moment upright. Then a short, sharp hiss, a dart forward, and before one could say “ knife” the porker had disappeared within the serpent’s terrible coils. . Instinctively we recoiled as the grinding and crunching of bones fell on our ears, and when the folds relaxed all that was left of the victim was an elongated, shapeless mass. After covering it all over with loathsome saliva, the horrible jaws “were distended, and as they took the end which should have been the hind feet within them, the pig’s carcass slowly and graduallydisappeared down the capacious throat. The bait was taken ; how would it act? Five, ten, fifteen minutes, half an hour passed, and the ser- pent remained im- movable. Then, at a whispered word, Captain Dixon again started to play. Again the head uplifted and com- menced the rhythmic swaying, back and forth, up and down, then it collapsed. A long-drawn sigh es- caped us as we breathlessly watched. Up again it went, this time with an angry shake of its long, fierce hiss. Faster went the music, faster went the reptile’s head as its glistening body coiled and uncoiled itself spasmodically. Then came another collapse. Next the scaly length shot forward and entwined itself around a leafless banana tree, up which it greasily slid. The head jerked out, and the reeking jaws seized fiercely upon a huge leafy Which it tore to TO WITHIN A FEW FEET rae peap ric ir coils and a ADVANCED.”

Page 108

THE DEMON SNAKE. 99 pieces. Presently the head be- came less erect, and commenced to wobble ; the body seemed to become limp, and gradually slid downwards. With an apparent effort the serpent again straightened itself and contracted its mighty muscles as though _ fighting against a growing apathy, but it was only for an instant. With a final spurt it seized upon the torn banana leaf and shook it; then, as its folds relaxed, it began to sink down and ever down. Its head fell back till the white underneath showed uppermost, its eyes closed, and in another instant it dropped in an inert mass at the foot of the tree. “Now is our time !” I shouted, jumping up and beginning to drag the box towards the door, which Goodwin was hastily unbarring. on, Dixon, the dollars are ours !” But the watching natives were before us. Ere we could get out they had rushed forward, and in a scurrying, yelling mob, hurled them- selves on the helpless serpent and hacked at it viciously with the machetes with which every man was armed. When we got there nothing but a mutilated, “Come “THEY HACKED AT IT VICIOUSLY WITH THE MACHETES WITH WHICH EVERY MAN WAS ARMED, PART OF MK, GOODWIN'S LETTER TO THE AUTHOR IN WHICH HE MENTIONS THE DEMON SNAKE. bleeding carcass was stretched on the ground— all that remained of the “demon snake” which had paralyzed the work of the plantation. “That's the end of the ‘worm,’ Dixon,” laughed Goodwin. “And my dollars, I guess,” answered the captain, dolefully. We measured the hideous creature where it lay and found that from tip to tip it totalled twenty-three feet in 3 length and twenty- Z oe four and a half inches > 4 | in girth. 1 Captain Dixon got his coffee and we arrived back in Trini- dad, and on the sixth day after leaving there, according to the skipper’s pro- mise. I don’t know what became of Alec Good- win. I had a letter from him shortly after I had visited him —a_ por- tion of which is reproduced above—and that was the last I ever heard of him or of the “demon snake.”

Page 109

Odds and Ends. The Dog and the Islanders—An Extraordinary “ Marriage-Dress”"—A Tidal Wave, etc. gm ROM a resident on the Island. of > N Bali, to the east of Java, we have AR | received the following strange | ANG account of the adventures of a ~ Newfoundland dog, whose portrait is here reproduced. A European took out with him to the island a large white New- foundland dog with a black head. One day, whilst master and dog were taking a constitu- tional together, a local Rajah saw the dog, and immediately desired to possess it. Accordingly, he sent one of his courtiers to the gentleman’s house with a view to purchasing the animal. He was willing, he said, to give anything he possessed for it, excepting his wives and his “kris ”—a dagger which is looked upon by the From a) A DOG WITH A REMARKABLE HISTORY. natives as something too sacred to part with. The owner of the dog, however, politely declined to entertain the Rajah’s kind offer. A day or two later the same courtier returned with another message, to the effect that if the gentleman would sell his pet he was at liberty to have the pick of two of the Rajah’s wives and also a piece of land. But even this tempt- ing offer was firmly declined. At last, in despair, His Highness sent word for the third time, saying that he would part with his treasured “kris” and a large sum of money in exchange for the coveted Newfoundland. Still, however, the European remained obdurate, whereupon the disappointed potentate, seeing that the gentle- man was determined not to be separated from his faithful dog at any price, re- luctantly ceased his importunities. Unfortunately for the European’s peace of mind, the report had by that time spread throughout the island that a holy animal had arrived there, the like of which had never been seen before. The news also reached the ears of a poor woman with a dying child, and she immediately went round to the gentleman’s house and begged for a tuft of his dog’s hair, saying that she intended boiling it in some mix- ture to be given to the child, whose recovery would depend on it. She got her wish, and departed, vowing eternal gratitude. Then another woman turned up, begging for a piece of the dog’s collar, which, she explained, would be worn as an amulet round an invalid’s neck. To satisfy this applicant the dog’s owner spoiled his pet’s leather collar. Then, to his alarm, a steady stream of people began to arrive at his house daily, all asking for tufts of hair. At last, happily for the dog, his worried master had occasion. to leaye the island and ‘settle “elsewhere, so that the [Photo

Page 110

pilgrimages of the superstitious natives to secure “relics” of the ‘‘ wonderful sacred animal” were brought to an abrupt conclusion. The weird-looking figures seen in the annexed photograph are members of the M’jiji tribe, who live on the Limpopo River, wearing their extraordinary “ marriage- dress.” This weird and un- comfortable - looking costume is made entirely of split reeds, fastened together with grass, and the unhappy bachelor who contemplates matrimony is compelled to wear it for three solid months before the happy event comes off, mean- while leading a life of strict seclusion. The poor fellow may not even speak, but— oddly enough—he may whistle as much as he pleases. What effect this extraordinary custom has on the popularity of marriage among the M’jijis is not known, but it was only with the utmost difficulty that some members of the Mounted Police, who encountered the would-be Benedicts here seen, induced them to allow their photographs to be taken. The next photograph—for- warded by a clergyman in New Zealand—has an interesting connection with a Wipz WorLD In one of our early issues we published story. From a\ a gtaphic account of the shipwreck of the General Grant. On May rath, 1866, this vessel, carrying a cargo of wool and gold and a number of passengers, bound from Australia to London, ESSAGE-bOAT ODDS AND ENDS. 101 was wrecked on the Auckland Islands, three hundred miles to the south of New Zealand. A few of those on board succeeded in scram- THE EXTRAOKDINARY REED OF THE M'JIJIS—THE BACHELOR WHO CON MARRIAGE-DRESS” Me PLATES MARRIAGE HAS TO WEAR THIS COSTUME FOR THREE MONTHS, From a\ SPEECH ! Lier @ ia MEANWHILE LIVING IN STRICT SECLUSION AND KEFRAINING FROM (Photo. SENT OUT BY CASTAWAY WRECKED UN THE AUCKLAND ISLANDS. bling up the cliffs, in a great cavern underneath which the vessel had been driven. Here for two years these hapless castaways en- dured fearful hardships, sub- sisting chiefly on seal flesh, and using the skins for bed- ding and clothing. After a year and a half of misery, in the hope of securing relief, the piece of wood seen in our photograph was shaped out of wreckage, fitted with an iron keel and a mast and sail, and then, with the pathetic appeal shown cut deep into its deck, was cast into the sea. The strange messenger, wafted by wind and tide, found its way to Stewart Island, at the southern end of the Colony, but the shipwrecked people had been previously succoured. Had the party launched their message earlier it is not im- probable that it would have hastened their rescue. The castaways’ ‘‘ message - boat” now lies in the museum at Invercargill, New Zealand. When the adventurous settler, bent on trying his luck in a new country, stakes out his claim on the treeless Canadian prairies, the first [Photo shelter he builds for himself and his family is a turf house —a primitive yet serviceable erection which, if, things, go (well | with him, is destined later to be replaced by the neat frame house

Page 111

102 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. is the only place where rhinoceroses have been trained to be ridden. The animals were brought out every year to take the place of honour at the head of the procession.” Next is a striking photograph show- ing the “ Aeger,” or tidal wave, of the River Trent. In the foreground you will notice the river calmly flowing out to the Humber, while beyond is seen the great foam-crested tidal wave coming rushing and roaring along—a truly won- derful and impressive sight. As a rule this phenomenon is only seen in the ‘THE FIRST HOUSE OF A CANADIAN TOWN, From a Photo. with its “shingled” roof. The photograph given above shows the first house in the township of Daysland, Saskatchewan. Perhaps in a very few years’ time this picture will have considerable in- terest for the inhabitants of what may be then a prosperous and growing community. The little snap-shot reproduced below shows two tame rhinoceroses being ridden in a street procession in India. This remarkable spectacle was witnessed by a Government official at the festival of the Bakri Id, at Junazad, Kathiawar, India. “T believe,” he writes, “that this THE “AEGER,” OR TIDAL WAVE OF THE RIVE ENT. From a P. spring and autumn, when the flow is very high at Hull, and it is a most difficult matter to get a good photograph of the sudden and _ spectacular turning of the tide. The hardy pioneers who go out into the wild places of the earth in search of gold have to put up with terrible privations at times; and not the least trying experience is the great difference between the conditions of life in summer and winter in certain regions. Look, mh 3 ae : ¥ fs for instance, at the two TAME RIIINOCEKOSES BEING : RUCESSION IN AWAR, INDIAMTHIS 15 BELIEVED To BE THE ONLY PLACE WHERE THE ALS HAVE WEEN TRAINED TO BE RIDDEN, (pho taphson the next _ From a Photo. pag )Bhe- first depicts

Page 112

ODDS Bes IN SUMMER THE YUKON PROSPECTORS HAVE TO GO ABOUT WITH THEIR HEADS IN NETS, TO PROTECT THEM FROM THE VORACIOUS From a) MOSQUITOES, [Photo. two placer miners on the Yukon, in summer. It will be observed that they are working with their heads inside ‘“ mosquito bars” —a meat-safe sort of contrivance intended to keep out the redoubtable Yul:on mosquito. As there is no night in Alaska in summer, this ubiquitous pest evidently considers that the Klondiker should not sleep in daylight, and so does his best to keep him awake—and active. In the winter, on the other hand, the pros- pector has to fight against howling blizzards and cold so intense that the thermometer figures convey but little to one’s imagination. In the second photo. we see three pro- spectors as they appeared on reaching camp after a severe march with the thermometer __ registering sixty-two degrees below zero. The men’s beards, eyebrows, and eyelashes were frozen stiff and coated with ice, and in spite of many thicknesses of warm clothing they were all but dead from exhaustion. King Frost seizes many a_ hapless victim on the lonely trails of these far-northern soli- tudes. The photo. herewith was taken at Saute Luokte, in Swedish Lap- From aj AND A SCENE IN SWEDISH LAPLAND—-THE PRANLESHRED Wt ENDS. 103 SHES BECOME FROZEN ESSES OF CLOTHING (Photo. S, RVENROWS, AND EVEL. TE OF THE MANY THIC! THE COLD CLAIM MEROUS VICTIMS. IN WINTER HEA STIFF, AND IN From a) wo} Numerous rein- deer are to be found in these regions, and Sauto Luokte—which in the Lapp language means “the place where many reindeer are killed” —gets land, within the Arctic Circle. its name from this fact. The curious wooden structure seen to the left is not a monster pigeon- cote, as might be thought, but is used for storing food, and is elevated on the pillar in order to protect the stores from the raids of wolves and foxes. The building in the background looks like a cow-shed, but is nevertheless used for human habitation. It contains a small stove and oP NSTER DOVES (Photo.

Page 113

104 THE WIDE boiler to melt snow, and also for warmth during the long, dreary winter of this far Northern region, when the cold, of course, is intense. Freak trees are by no means uncommon, but that shown in the accompanying photograph is a most unusual and interest- ing specimen, making a com- plete arch of vegetation over one of the main roads leading into the town of Upper San- dusky, Ohio. When the tree is in full foliage, as here seen, it presents a very pretty and unique spectacle. ‘The tree is not merely bent, but it has two roots. ‘The crown, a few winters back, found its way into the ground, and in the ensuing spring germinated and sent forth lusty roots, so that this natural bridge is now firmly anchored at “both ends, and the middle of the tree has become its top. With reference to the story, “The Ordeal of Malek Chand,” published in our issue for April last, the author desires to render his WORLD MAGAZINE. From a Photo, by\ A KEMARKARLE FREAK" TREE—IT HAS TAKEN ROUT ON BOTH SIDES OF THE KOAD, SO. THAT ITS MIDDLE HAS BECOME ITS Tor, [J. S. Welter, Ohio. acknowledgments to ‘The Queen’s Justice,” by the late Sir Edwin Arnold ; to a pamphlet published by Mr. Manomahan Ghose, the advo- cate who defended Malek Chand; and to the official records of the case. r ra | GUARDIANS OF | THE YUKON A Vakon Laptrast | AN AMERICAN OLiveR Twist” I wt @ ARemarkable 5 y Freak Tree i oP a raf za ru | ( The SANnox Scrap at = RQ ?m | Aa “ ¢c ©, fMdal Wave | Down THE SPE rere oF | CranisPrr © —~ Miniature STRONG Many | es \ Write Suaves oF Grand BANKS . Demon SNAK 4g |STive LAND oF ase 3% ENCHANTMENT” “>~STRAGEDY s \ OF THE | | + 3 TOWER | } “Race: with ) | DeatTu ee} y FichT With | | “ye Ly A LEOPARD | ; | DppsscenCavetas tg ae In Quest oF Binp oF PARADISE Mp B: xfraardipary Mareiage-Dress Bins Le at | A : 4 oe v : : In Searcn or Pearts THE MAP-CONTENTS OF “THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE,” WHICH SHOWS AT A GLANCE THR LOGALITYOF\BACH ARIICLE AND NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURE IN THIS NUMBER!

Page 114

Page 115

“THE STRANGER SLOWLY RAISED HIS II[AND, POINTED TO HIS MOUTH, AND, IN SEPULCHRAL TONES, SAID, ‘ME HUNGRY.” (SEE PAGE 112.)

Page 116

THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XVIII THE GHOST OF NOVEMBER, No. 104 1906. MUSKET FLAT.* By 'T. W. LeEson. A strange story from the Queensland back-blocks. How acurious character came to a little bush township; how he lived and died; and how a startling and uncanny nocturnal adventure was the means of bringing a self-opinionated young bushman to a more reasonable frame of mind. WISH youwould spare a few minutes, and come up to the camp, old man.” what’s the “Why, matter?” “Drop your tools and come along; we may be in time to prevent mischief. Perhaps you can explain things to the niggers ; Ill be hanged if I can.” “But tell me what's the trouble.” “Oh! bother you, Tom ; come along, and I'll tell you as we go. The blacks are kicking up a fearful shindy. We don’t want them to get into mischief now, while we are all so busy; this new goldfield may be all right, and we have no time to spare to attend police investigations if the niggers murder the fellow.” * Mr. J. E. Grout, now proprietor of the hotel, store, and smithy at Musket Flat (Elliott), Maryborough, Queensland, who lived there at the time these incidents occurred, writes ; "This story is absolutely true, and happened about April, 1523. ET FLAT," OFFICI From a Photo. by) Vel, x —14, THE AUTHOR, MR. T, W. LEESON. From a Photo. “ Murder the fellow! What on earth are you talking about ?” “T don’t know whether it’s a man or a woman, to tell the truth. I’ve seen myalls of every sort, from the Gulf to Victoria, but I’ve never seen a nigger like this one before, and neither has old King Combo, nor “ Doctor” Barney, nor Queen Maggie. It isn’t a Malay nor a Chinky; and it isn’t a Hindu nor a Kanaka. It seems to be a new breed of nigger. It is dressed in a red flannel shirt and a blue-and-white striped old window-curtain petticoat thing, and has a sort of smok- ing-cap with a tassel. It has long hair coiled up on the top of the head, as I saw when it took the cap off. It’s too black in the skin to be a Jap, so I’m blessed if I know what to call it.” “Did you speak to this remarkable creature, Harry?” “T tried to, but the darkies were making

Page 117

108 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. such a row and jabbering at such a rate that I could not get a word in edgeways.” “They don’t understand what this creature says, I suppose 2?” “T asked old Wonga, but he only looked glum, and stalked away without answer- ing me. You may know what sort of animal it is, for you’ve knocked about more than I have.” ~ This was an unusual admis- sion for Harry Reeves to make, so I knew that something re- markable had disturbed — that young man’s equanimity. The blacks’ camp was at that time— the year 1883— barely half a mile from the settle- ment, or “ town- ship,” as it was called, of Mus- ket Flat,* Queensland, so we proceeded there to investi- gate, The blacks had built their gunyahs, mimis, and bough-sheds on a ridge about fifty yards from a small lagoon. There wereabout seventy or eighty men, women, and children in the camp. Combo was the local “king,” his consort was Queen Maggie, and Kitty was the Princess Royal. Old Bemba, or Barney, was the “doctor,” Wonga the sage of the sub-tribe. Some of the aboriginals did occasional odd jobs for the settlers, but, like all Australian blacks, they were a lazy lot. When we arrived at the camp we found the blacks in a very excited condition. The men were stalking about, gesticulating wildly, and brandishing their spears and boomerangs, while “WE FOUND THE BLACKS IN > Musket Flat” is officially known as Elliot. Tue At rior. the gins were gathered around the mysterious stranger. Maggie and Kitty were interrogating him in a queer jargon of English and aboriginal dialects, and the older black fellows were hold- ing a confab a little apart from the others. We asked them what they thought of the new-comer, but they only shook their heads. It ap- peared that all endeavours to extract informa- tion from him had proved futile. One glance at the stranger showed me what he was. I knew two or three dozen words of a certain lan- guage which I thought would be useful, and accordingly ad- dressed him. I was not aston- ished when I saw his eyes brighten and his manner change, but it was a real treat to watch the ex- pression on my chum Harry’s face when the stranger pointed to his mouth and said in English, “Me hungry.” I would not volun- teer any infor- mation at the time, although Reeves plied me with questions. I had been awaiting an opportunity to read my mate a lesson which I hoped would have the effect of takiny a little of the self-conceit out of him, and I thought I saw my chance here. Harry Reeves and I worked together at the Flat and occupied the same room. We were very good friends, but sometimes our arguments at night were not conducted with proper regard for suavity and politeness. Being an “imported ” man, Harry had not the same respect for me and my opinions as he would have given to an Australian; Twas“ only an Englishman.” Digitized -by \ 00g! A VEKY EXCITED CONDITION, e

Page 118

THE GHOST OF Harry was a white native of the White Bay and Burnett district, and he had a very exalted opinion of his own countrymen, while his estimate of Englishmen and foreigners was very low indeed. He was a fine rider and a good bushman ; was intelligent, but very — self- opinionated. His knowledge was limited to his own country, and he did not know nearly so much of it as l—a mere “new chum”—did. I was not really a new chum, for I had been several years in Australia and had travelled a good deal, but Harry would not acknow- ledge that my experience was worth anything. He believed that he had seen everything that was worth seeing, and quite ignored the fact that Australia was only a small part of the great world. He was a favourite with King Combo, old Barney, and Wonga, and this formidable quartet fairly shouted me down in our peri- odical arguments. Now I had seen at the first glance that the mysterious strarger was a Cingalee, but kept the knowledge to myself. I thought that I saw here an opportunity to prove to my self-opinionated chum and his supporters that all extraneous knowledge was not neces- sarily useless, and accordingly determined to mystify them as much as possible before giving them any information. I found that the stranger had been one of a party of Cingalese who were journeying to the Bundaberg cane- fields. By some means or other—probably by design—he had become separated from his countrymen and had wandered about until he struck the Gayndah Road, which he had fol- lowed until it brought him opposite the blacks’ camp. He knew only two words of English— “Me hungry.” After eliciting this information we took him to the settlement, where his appearance created some astonishment, for none of the settlers had seen the Cingalese costume before. The Cingalee was quite comfortable at the Flat, and showed no inclination to leave. The native blacks never chummed in with him, and generally carried a weapon whenever they came near him. Visiting blacks eyed him askance, and appeared to be very uncomfort- able and uneasy while he was about, while the gins and piccaninnies were obviously afraid of him. He was very quiet and harmless, but appeared to be a bit queer in the head. He had sense enough to know when he was well off, and he made the most of his good luck. He never learned another word of English, and my small vocabulary of Cingalese words might as well have been non-existent for all the use it was when the artful fellow saw that he was quite safe. Whenever he was questioned his unvarying reply was, MUSKET FLAT. 10y “Me hungry”; so that his chronic appetite became a standing joke amongst whites and blacks alike. He was well fed, so we began to get tired of his eternal whine, and at last some- one suggested making him do something for his tucker, or else hunting him away from the settle- ment. ‘The wheelwright accordingly gave him an axe and set him chopping some iron-bark for heating the wheel-tyres ; but after ten minutes’ exertion the Cingalee returned to his favourite corner, and nothing short of violence would shift him, till the pangs of hunger impelled him towards one of the cook-houses, where he went through his usual “ Me hungry” performance, until some cf the women gave him food to get rid of him. He was tried at all kinds of light jobs, but without success. He could break tools, but he never by any chance burt himself. ‘Ihe settlers were tired of him. He did no harm, certainly ; but he wouldn’t work, and there was no fun in him. We tried to frighten him away ; it was no use. We played all sorts of tricks on him, but he came up smiling every time. One day they strapped him on the back of a buck-board, put a pair of horses in, and drove him to within a few miles of the nearest coast town. He was dumped there with a loaf and some corned beef and told to go to—Jericho. Three days later he turned up at the Flat as hungry as usual. A bullock-driver then took him in hand and tried to break him in as an “off-sider,” or spare boy, but he lost the bullocks and became such a nuisance that the exasperated “ bullocky ” tied him to the spokes of the hind-wheel of the wagon and_ started the team. After going for a few dozen yards he liberated the Cingalee and threatened him with a dose of whip. ‘The fellow only pointed to his mouth and calmly remarked, “ Me hungry.” The “bullocky ” stared at him and then swore, whereupon the native repeated his maddening phrase. At that the driver set his dogs on him, and he ran back to the settlement. No one cared to really ill-treat the creature, and we could not get the blacks to frighten him away, so that he seemed likely to become a permanent insti- tution at the Flat. One day a package of aale-boxes arrived from Brisbane. When the case was opened it was found that the boxes were an inch too long for the naves. The blacksmith thought he saw a way now of making the Cingalee do something for his living. He submitted his plan to the other settlers, and it was approved by all. We thought we should fix the fellow up this time, and the plan was successful with a vengeance. A chain and padlock were procured, and with

Page 119

110 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. wos ig ee a ao oe we “6 ee Naat “THE FELLOW ONLY POINTED TU His MOUTH AND CALMLY REMARKED, ‘mE HUNGRY,'" them the Cingalee was firmly secured to a bench in ashed. One of the axle-boxes was fixed in a cramp; a saw and a lump of tallow were given to him, and he was shown how to saw an inch off the end of the heavy box. He was made to understand that he would get a meal when he had sawn the end off—but not before. We gave hima billy of water, and then left him to make the. best of things. At night we found that he had done very little, so his supper was withheld. ‘Two or three sacks were thrown to him and more water supplied, and then we left him, still chained to the bench. Next day he turned sulky and wouldn’t work. He was kept without food until night, and then, in despair, we liberated him. Late at night he appeared to be as usual, and no one dreamed that a tragedy was about to be enacted. The following morning one of the blacks and a half-caste, who had been sent out early to bring in the cows for milking, came galloping back before sunrise in a state of abject terror. They could give no lucid explanation of the cause of their consternation, but pointed wildly in the direction of a clump of wattles near a water-hole. Anxious to discover what had scared them, we decided to go out and investigate. We asked King Combo and Barney to come with us, and those dusky warriors reluctantly consented to do so. After going a few hundred yards one of the blacks came to a stand and pointed to something ahead. Following the direc- tion of his shaking forefinger, we went to a wattle-tree whose branches overhung the water-hole, and there found the lifeless body of the Cingalee hanging by a green hide rope! ‘The blacks incontinently bolted, and we could not get them to go near the place again. Accordingly we whites buried the body and sent word of the occurrence to the nearest police-station. To my surprise I found that Harry Reeves was almost as terrified as the blacks. He was chaffed unmercifully, but for several nights he would not go out after dark. After a time, however, he took to visiting the camp again at night, but the way he used to sing when returning convinced us all that he could not get the better of his superstitious fears. Some weeks afterwards a number of blacks from Aramara and Bingingoobilla- bong visited the camp, and it was decided to hold a corroboree on the night of the full moon. ‘That night will long be remembered by those who were present. The corroboree was attended by most of the white settlers. There was nothing unusual in the proceedings, and the whites retired before eleven o'clock. Harry Reeves, however, did not return with them. He had told me a queer story about some of the blacks having lately seen the ghost of the dead Cingalee. I paid little attention to the yarn at the time, but he said that the blacks were convinced that the ghost was about, and they were going to have a special function after the corroboree to “lay” it. No whites excepting himself were to be present, and I was not to mention that he had told me anything about it. It was about midnight and all the whites had gone to bed, but at the blacks’ camp the fires still burned, and a circle of warriors sat around the blaze with the lubras (women) clustered together outside the circle of men. When the moon reached the zenith King Combo lifted his spear, which had been stuck upright in a circle, to mark the hour of midnight. As the King raised-the spear and solemnly

Page 120

THE GHOST OF pointed it at the shining orb of night, an old black took some of the cool ashes near the fire and threw a handful over each of his shoulders towards the cardinal points of the compass. ‘The men then sang a few notes of a peculiar, mournful song, and the gins beat time with their hands on their thighs. ‘The King next resigned his place to “ Doctor” Barney and old Wonga, who faced each other across the fire. Both were fantastically ornamented ; their beards were fringed with white cockatoo feathers, their heads deco- rated with eagles’ wings, and their bodies so marked as to make them appear like skele- tons. Barney poised his spear at the moon, uttering an incantation, while old Wonga cowered behind his “hella- mon,” apparently sheltering himself from some invisible foe. Next the King advanced to the fire, carrying a boomerang. He made several passes through the air and then threw the weapon skywards. As the boomerang sped on its way a cloud obscured the moon. Absolute silence prevailed while it passed over; the men bowed their heads and waited, while the gins huddled closer, with their heads between their knees. Not a soul in the tribe dared to look upwards while that awful shadow rested on the moon. Presently Wonga struck his “hellamon” with his nulla to indicate that the cloud had passed. Some of the gins then threw twigs and branches on the fire, which soon blazed up and lit up the surrounding bush for a considerable distance. One man belonging to the tribe had met with an injury and was unable to attend the cere- BARNEY FOISED HIS SPEAR AT THE MOON.” MUSKET FLAT. lit monies, but lay near his gunyah (hut), outside the circle of bright light. Suddenly this man yelled and, forgetting his injury, ran to the circle at the fire. His limbs were trembling and his eyes bulging with fright; he pointed to a large bloodwood stump and promptly collapsed. ‘The gins looked in that direction, and as they were farther from the fire than the men they were the first to behold an awful apparition. | With wild cries they broke through the circle of men—which showed that they were mad with terror, for that of- fence carries dire penalties —and threw themselves on their faces by the fire. The men. taken by surprise. did not at fi realize what was wrong. At length. however, their gaze was directed to- wards the blood- wood stump, and there they beheld a sight which struck them speechless with terror. Slowly advancing towards them came a figure which in height, shape, dress, colour, and bear- ing was an exact counterpart of the dead and_ buried Cingalee! As the thing advanced Harry Reeves drew something from his belt which flashed in the firelight and pointed it with a trembling hand at the advancing shape. But still it came on till it stood quite near the fire, where it halted and calmly gazed on the assembled blacks, who were for the time being literally paralyzed with terror. The irrepressible Kitty, the King’s daughter, was the first to recover her wits. Springing up, she took a dry branch, thrust it in the fire, and then held it so that its light fell-on the face of the dread visitor.

Page 121

112 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Yes; this was the dead Cingalee—there could be no doubt of it! He looked almost the same as he had done in life. Every detail was correct, even to the dress, cap, and long wisp of hair. He and his clothes were exactly as they had been when the Cingalee was buried. Seeing this, some of the men recovered a little from their panic and grasped their weapons. Queen Maggie piled leaves and twigs on the fire, while Kitty gazed bewildered on that awful figure, standing so calm and stillin the firelight. ‘Taking courage, Combo, Barney, and Wonga advanced towards the apparition, brandishing their spears and nullas, but still the Cingalee never moved. As old. Barney thrust forward his spear with an angry growl the stranger slowly raised his hand, pointed to his mouth, and, in sepulchral tones, said, “Me hungry.” It was the last straw. With a wild yell old Barney dropped his weapons and fled headlong to the white settle- ment. ‘The other blacks, their superstitious fears returning, followed his example, and the entire crowd rushed shrieking to the houses of the sleeping settlers. Ere long the whole place was in an uproar. The blacks simply would not leave their hiding- places until after sunrise. It was useless to question them ; they were speechless with terror. Harry Reeves was the only one who could tell what had happened, but even he had to be given a stiff glass of rum before he sufficiently recovered from the shock to be able to give any account of the cause of all the commotion. When the sun arose next morning the blacks begged us to go and get their belongings from the camp; they would not go near the place again, they said, under any consideration. During the day they departed from the settlement, and for several years no aborigine would venture nee The story of the Cingalee’s ghost was spread far and wide, and even some of the whites were not uninfluenced by it. For several months after this uncanny incident Harry Reeves and I continued to occupy the same room. He was much more subdued in manner, I noticed, and did not care to venture out alone after dark, for he fully believed that the ghost of the unfortunate Cingalee still haunted the Flat. We sometimes chaffed him about the amount of rum he and the blacks had taken when they saw the spectre, but he declared again and again that they were all quite sober at the time. Some weeks later we were joined by a lively young Colonial, and Harry began to get back some of his cheerfulness. Our old arguments were resumed, and sometimes I and my country- men had rough times of it at the hands of these young Queenslanders. Sometimes they were one too many for me, but as I thought I held a trump card up my sleeve my equanimity was undisturbed. ‘The young fellow, Charlie, some- times seconded Harry in his attacks upon Englishmen, but it was evident that the latter missed his old backers, Combo, Barney, and Wonga. Sometimes we went too far and became personal. One night we were discussing the relative merits of the English and Australians as soldiers. My mates, of course, held that the Colonial was “miles ahead” of the English- man as a warrior, and they quite ridiculed the idea that English fighting-men could be of any use. Naturally, I combated these opinions, but all to no purpose. At last we became heated, and Harry said something which stung me to the quick. I thought that now was the time to use my reserve card and crush the conceit out of my very self-satisfied chum. Looking him straight, therefore, in the eyes, I said, “ Yes, I know that you are a cool, brave, fearless young man, Harry. I am satisfied that nothing would unnerve you. And yet I remember an occasion when you had a good opportunity to display those qualities of coolness and courage which you undoubtedly possess in a high degree. Instead of setting a good example, you funked it and ran like a frightened child and hid yourself.” He was on his feet instantly in a towering passion, and demanded to know what I meant. I said, “Give me your stock-whip, Harry, and I will go and place it in a position from which you dare not recover it. If you or Charlie will bring that whip back 1 will take back what I have said and apologize to you—if not, what I have said stands. 1 shall take your whip and hang it on the stump where you say you saw the ghost of the Cingalee.” Neither of them would accept my offer, but both, quite inconsequentially, wanted to fight me. I agreed to satisfy Harry if Charlie would go across to one of the hotels for half an hour until we had settled our little difference. When we had the room to ourselves I turned to Harry and quietly asked him to listen to me for a few minutes before we started to damage cach other. “ Harry,” I said, “you have made some very bitter and untruthful accusations against my countrymen, so I am going to prove to you that you are in the wrong, and at the same time I hope to convince you that we are not altogether lacking in nerve and coolness. Just keep quiet for a minute and you will understand why I asked Charlie to leave us. You can tell him what you like when he returns.” I then produced a. bag and took from it a

Page 122

THE GHOST wisp of black horschair and a smoking-cap. With a piece of burnt cork I blackened my face ; then I turned to Harry and asked him to give me the other articles in the bag. Without a word he emptied the contents on one of the bunks and stood staring at them. His eyes were dilated, but the fierce expression had left Or MUSKET FLAT. ti3 stirred up the fire, a dozen spears would have gone through you and you would have been hacked to pieces, for there were two men behind you with tomahawks. Get me a drink, old man ; I feel thundering queer.” He was silent for a while and then added : “Tt won’t do for this to be known, old fellow. “ME WAS SILENT FOR A WHILE AND THEN ADDED? BE KNOWN, OLD FELLUW.' his face, which now wore a look of astonish- ment. Picking up the articles on the bunk I proceeded to put them on. Before I could finish dressing myself, however, Harry caught me by the arm and shouted, hoarsely : ‘No, no! No more of that. I see it all now. Oh, what a blind fool I have been !” He stared at me for a full minute, and—I could not help it—I put my finger to my lip and said, ‘‘ Me hungry, Harry.” He fairly jumped, and then sat down with his head in his hands. Presently he looked up and said, ‘Good heavens, what an escape! I nearly sent a bullet into you! If you had faltered ever so slightly when Kitty held the burning branch to your face, or when Maggie Vol. xviii, 15. ‘tT WON'T DO FOR THIS TO ‘The whites would be mad enough if they heard of it; but if the blacks found it out they would waylay both you and me and murder us, for they would think that I was a party to it. Better burn those things straight away for fear of accident. You won’t speak of this, will ou?” “Not likely, Harry!” I answered. the risks as well as you do. You must satisfy Charlie somehow; I will send him to you. Say, Harry, do you think now that Australians hold a monopoly of nerves?” “Shake hands and let's drop it, old chap,” was all he answered. And so our disputes ended; nor was the “ghost” of Musket Flat ever scen again. “T know

Page 123

Two Days in the Under-World. By JEREMY BROOME. The experiences of four Swiss explorers while trying to discover an outlet to the celebrated Holl-Loch Cavern, near Stalden, in Switzerland. They penetrated nearly two miles into the bowels of the earth, and met with several exciting adventures. Illustrations from photographs by Wehrli Brothers, Zurich. ] HERE is a remarkable cave in Switzerland which has hitherto re- sisted all attempts at complete exploration. Many parties of ad- venturous tourists have gone into it and come out without being able to tell how far its tortuous paths penetrate into the nether world, and several accidents in its gloomy recesses have proved its exploration to be fraught with constant danger. The cave of which I write is situated in the Muottathal, near the little village of Stalden, in the Canton Schwyz, where it penetrates, so far as is now known, for several miles into the side of a mountain. In former years children of the valley have entered it as far as daylight extended, but have been frightened back by the sound of rushing water and the ghostly darkness. Their juvenile attempts have been succeeded by more serious efforts, the latest of which stands on record as one of the most exciting cave explora- tions in the history of Switzerland. One of the Zurich papers has published a special account by Mr. E. Kollbrunner, a Zurich school-teacher, from which I have been given permission to draw some facts and figures regarding the ex- pedition. The party consisted of four young men of Zurich —Messrs. August Saxer, Gustav Zimmer- mann, Arthur Webhrli, and H. Widmer - Oster- walder—the last of whom had once before attempted to explore the cave. “The chief danger to the expedi- tion,” according to one statement, “was the water, caused in summer by copious rain or in winter by a thaw, as it gurgles and rushes through every crevice and rift in the rocks, flooding all the galleries in an instant. Woe to the traveller who finds him- self underground with no idea of the approaching danger! He would find himself imprisoned, and must of necessity starve when his provisions became exhausted. Another danger, as in all cases of cave exploration, was to be found in the unexpected abysses which open suddenly before the explorer when he thinks he is in front of a rock wall.” “We prepared ourselves with the utmost care,” said one of the explorers, “to accom- plish the task before us. We wore light but thick-soled boots for walking on the sharp stones, and waterproof overalls. We took with us food sufficient for eight days, which included dried meats, wine, tea and coffee, condensed milk, bread, and a spirit lamp for cooking. We also took a glacier rope five thousand yards long, wound on a reel, with a knot at every fifty yards, a compass, an aneroid barometer, a ther- mometer, and a_ strong, lightly - constructed ladder. We had thick. woollen blankets for ae ee | THE EXPLOKING PARTY ASCKNDING TO THE ENTRANCE OF THE CAYK, From a Photo, | slo LIC Digitized by Sa OOS

Page 124

TWo DAYS IN THE UNDER-WORLD. sleeping in at nights, and for lighting purposes four acetylene lanterns, with fifty emergency candles, two tourist lanterns, one oil lantern, and some roman candles. A medicine chest with a supply of bandages, some hammers and chisels, and a photographic apparatus completed the outfit, each man bearing a load of twenty kilos.” Thus equipped, they left Zurich on the zoth of February for the Muottathal, arriving on sledges at Stalden, where they caused con- siderable excitement among the natives. Here, on a Friday, they carefully overhauled their equipment and instructed the inhabitants of the valley to send a search-party after them if they did not return within a reasonable time. ‘The weather conditions were fairly satisfactory. Although a thaw had already set in at Zurich there was a clear sky with sharp frost in the 115 two feet in width. The mouth and sides of the cave, moreover, are covered with jagged stone, and a current of air cold enough to frighten a Laplander is encountered. Yet, nothing daunted, Saxer and Zimmermann, having lit their lamps, led the way with their ladder into the tortuous cavern. After the party had passed a small sheet of frozen water they found themselves in a little “hall,” in which certain measurements and directions had been left by former expeditions. From this enclosure three passages opened out into the darkness, all presenting considerable opposition to progress. In one a_ rushing cascade of rain-water fell into an abyss, but by dint of hard effort and a strong grip on the obstinate rocks they managed to make their way to a place not far distant where the three corridors met. Here they plumbed one of the passages with thirty- five yards of cord, but found no bottom. ‘Then, moving onward through a passage en- closed by heavy boul- ders and a roof of quartz, they came upon the now famous “Dolomite Hall,” a remarkable cave for- mation’ which has at- tracted many tourists since its discovery. Looking down upon a steeply - declining stretch of rock, they could see a_ great hollow from which, in majesty, arose a forest of dolomite trees. The magnifi- cence of the “hall” THE ENTRANCE TO THE CAVE, From a) Canton Schwyz, which augured well for this mid-winter expedition into the under-world. The cave lies a hundred and twenty yards above the valley, the ascent being made by a steep path. The entrance forms a gulch-like cavity, from five to ten yards in depth, with a fine natural bridge across it. In all there are three entrances to the cave, but as the lowest of these is usually under water, and the upper one falls nearly fifty feet into the main cave, the central entrance was chosen by the explorers. The choice of openings, however, is easier than the negotiation thereof, for it takes a laborious struggle to get through the cleft, which is barely is enhanced by the distance from which it may be seen. “From the ‘Dolomite Hall,’” says my in- formant, “the ascent was of an awe-inspiring character. Below rushed a raging torrent, whilst, at a fathomless depth, the crushing noise in the cave gave evidence of the existence of a glacier-mill. The temperature was not very cold, nor the draught of air intense. The path sloped steadily downward, and was covered with boulders and loose sand, which afforded a very bad foothold until the ‘Siphon’ was reached. “The ‘Siphon’ lies in the deepest part of this portion of the cave. Here a perfect lake is formed by frequent rains, which at many times of the year opposes. fafther progress. We, [Photo.

Page 125

116 THE however, were lucky enough to find it frozen over-— which fact, in itself, is rather remarkable in cave exploration. From this part of the cave three passages led to what is now known as the splendid ‘ Rit- tersaal’ (Hall of Knights), and thence, by a steep path, to the ‘Kamin’ (Chimney), at the foot of which there was a glacicr-mill, about two and a half to three feet broad, with clear water.” The “Chimney” is about three hun- dred and eighty yards from the entrance. From this point the path was terribly steep, and the explorers could proceed only by cutting steps in the rock. Presently an- other magnificent “hall” was reached. This is called the “Kapelle” (Chapel), and is a chamber of good architectural pro- portions, walled by solid rock. It seemed now as if the end of the cave had been reached, but to the left a cleft in the rock was noticed, and, climbing up, the party dis- covered two enormous cavities, from the ceilings of which hung two gigantic stones, looking as if they might fall at any moment and smash the travellers into atoms. ‘The route thus minutely de- scribed is clearly shown in the accompanying sketch. The posi- tions of the “halls” and the maze-like turnings of this under- ground Wonderland are marked with great accuracy, although, from any map of this kind, no idea can possibly be formed of the difficul- ties encountered on the way. lor those who may be planning cave expeditions in the future, one bit of advice from an old speleologist may here be quoted. © First,” he — said, “be sure to get a map—if j one has been prepared. ‘Then ¢ look out for trouble !” i Our adventurers were now * about seven hundred and fifty yards from the entrance, and were passing the sandy- bottomed and - hausen,” with the temperature about forty-one degrees Fahrenheit and the air-draught continu- PLAN WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. or LOCH,” OK MUOTTATHAL, STALDEN, SWITZERLAND. Tk CRLEBKATED “CAVE OF HELL, “HOLL IN rik ally increasing. Soon they neared the spot where one of them had camped on a previous expedition in 1go1, and, as they knew that it would be impossible later on to obtain water, they refilled their cans. “The path hence,” writes one of the party, “was Z-shaped, and from below we heard numerous glacier - mills. Sharp rocks pro- truded everywhere, and we fre- quently encountered deep holes in our progress. Across the ‘ Klet- terfels’ we reached the ‘ Bose Wand’ (a thousand yards from the entrance), which had previously been visited by a party of climbers from the Matterhorn, and by them had been christened with _ its appropriate and evil - sounding name, “So far as we knew, no ex- plorers had ever gone farther into the cave than this, and the ob- stacles presented to progress were enormous. Before beginning the ascent of the ‘ Bose Wand’ we un- packed our instruments and made soundings, without finding bottom. We then took off our shoes and put on some boots especially in- tended for climbing. After ascend- ing the rock for a short distance with the aid of the ladder, we found nothing whatever to hold to. Saxer and Zimmermann, there- fore, stripped themselves of all their luggage and one stood up on the other’s shoulders. It was a difficult feat, for not only was it accomplished in absolute dark- ness, but there were no ledges for the foot to rest on. There was no sound except that of our slowly- moving bodies, and it was in every way a fearsome and ticklish busi- ness. If one of the climbers had lost his hold he would have been precipitated into the depths an unrecognisable mass. After most anxious waiting, the two who were left at the foot of the rock were encouraged by the sound of cheers —the signal for a successful ascent ~and by the aid of rope and ladder they were pulled up to the top. * Thetunnel now broadened out

Page 126

TWO DAYS IN THE UNDER-WORLD. THE EXPLORERS IN THE ‘' LABYRINTH,” NEARLY A MILE FROM THE ENTRANCE, From a Photo, to the right, and looked as if it had been made by an overflow of lava. It expanded suddenly, with terrible depths on each side, but a little farther on again became narrow. Presently we came upon the most beautiful part of the whole cave, to which was given the name of ‘ Alligatoren Schlucht’ (Alligator Gulch). Thousands of people could here’ find standing-room, and the Bengal light which we lit failed to show even half of the immense proportions of the ‘hall.’ It seemed as if the beautiful cave had been fashioned by some antediluvian monsters ; its straight paths and abrupt walls all contri- buted to the wonderful * impression it made. There was an absence of water, and the air- current blew strongly from the interior.” The numerous gal- leries_ and maze - like paths in this portion of the cave are known collectively as the “ Labyrinth,” and lead into the main tunnel. Crawling on their hands and knees, the party now reached a rectangular chamber from which rose a sort of funnel, coated with lime, whilst from be- low came noises which resembled the sound of hammers NEGOTIATING From aj THE “SEETOR, striking upon anvils. The party next entered a great porch, called the “Seetor” (fifteen hundred and fifteen yards from the entrance), and, picking their way from rock to rock, came upon the first lake to be found in this part of the cave. In the middle of the lake stood a rocky islet, upon which a shaft of water from some upper gallery fell with great noise. “Tt was now ten o'clock at night, and after * having a hearty supper, during which every word we spoke was echoed again and again, we crawled along a quartzstrewn path to the ONE THOUSAND FIVE ENTRANCE{ HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN YARDS FROM THE (Photo,

Page 127

118 ' THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THE EXPLORERS CRUSSING AN UNDERGROUND LAKE ONE THOUSAND SIX HUNDRED AND FIFTY- From a) SIX YARDS FROM THE ENTRANCE. accompaniment of rushing water.” At the end of the path was another lake with water of remarkable transparency, which flashed back the lights of the travellers with striking effect. It was with considerable effort—and a con- tinual temptation to spend unnecessary time in the interesting by-paths of the tunnel—that the party came at last to the celebrated “ Riesen- halle,” two thousand yards, or more than a mile, from the entrance. The “Giants’ Hall” has a length of a hundred and forty yards and a width of fifty-five yards, yet is only two yards in height, the whole being supported in a most wonderful man- ner by the bare walls, which, like the floor, con- sist of granite-like feld- spar. At the sides of the “hall” are beautifully- shaped pilasters, so deli- cate in appearance that they could almost be torn away by the hand. At this spot they found a ball of string, which de- monstrated beyond a doubt that this part of the cave had been previously visited. Moreover, upon the wall they found the confident inscription, “End of.the Cave.” Had they wasted their time for nothing, then? Had they From a) IN THIS PART OF THE CAVE, EXPLOKERS HAD DIFFICULTY IN(SLEEPING, (Photo, come a distance of a mile and a half through the underground world merely to find that others had done the same? It was a blow for the moment to the explorers’ pride, but, with that handwriting on the wall, what could be done? Should they turn back, or should they prove its falseness by some happy discovery ? Being thoroughly ex- hausted they tried to sleep, but their attempt was thwarted by the intense cold. There was nothing to do but to keep moving, and they accordingly spent some time in investigating the many narrow tunnels (Photo. which extend from the “ Giants’ Hall.” All signs of former exploration had now disappeared, and the adventurous enthusiasts were on virgin ground. It was, moreover, by the merest chance that they had the satisfaction of adding to their many interesting discoveries a “hall” which exceeded even the “ Giants’ Hall” in its pro- portions. Saxer, who had been resting on a large flat stone, suddenly disappeared from sight, and a great hole was visible where the stone had been. The air that issued from it was damp and fetid. Saxer was found, more ONE MILE AND THREE-TENTHS FROM THE ENTRANCE, THE

Page 128

TWO DAYS IN THE frightened than hurt, and was recompensed for the disaster by the discovery of what is now known as the “Faulerdom.” Owing to the danger of being asphyxiated they did not venture on a thorough exploration of this “hall.” A narrow tunnel now led the four men into a smaller hall, having abysses on either side into which torrents of water descended. Here they came upon another small lake, lined with a deposit of round black pebbles. Curiously enough, all these stones were of the same size, and, when handled, were found to be soft and pliable. “The light from our lanterns at this point extended only ten yards,” continues my inform- ant, “and, as they were ordinarily capable of TWO THOUSAND THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-ONE VAKI From a) THE ‘ FAULERDOM.” extending fifty yards, it -became evident that some unusual atmospheric conditions were now prevailing. Indeed, we were soon surprised by a heavy rain from the roof of the cave, which enveloped us like curtains, and when we did get under shelter we found ourselves covered with a sticky, yellow mud. “Tt was now time for our midday meal, and we ate heartily in our gloomy surroundings. Then we pushed on. A narrow and dangerous tunnel quickly led us to another big hall, the walls of which were one mass of glimmering light caused by an enormous number of tiny crystals. As the light grew stronger the crystals loomed larger and we seemed to be in fairyland. ‘The temperature, which just previously had averaged about forty degrees Fahrenheit, now FROM THR ENTRANCE, APFROACHING UNDER-WORLD. 11g- increased to fifty-three degrees Fahrenheit, and the roof of the cave began to glitter as if strewn with millions of stars. Even the slippery clay, which covered our rocky pathway, was orna- mented with these beautiful crystals, lying together in brilliant patches as we walked.” This beautiful “ Crystal Cave” is a hundred and twenty yards in length, fifteen yards wide, and twelve yards high, and in its spacious walls the quartet spent six hours. Time had passed so speedily that they could hardly realize it was midnight, and that they had spent many hours in continuous exploration in the nether world. Their exertions had told upon them heavily, and their eyes were sore through the incessant peering into the darkness. Nevertheless, they spent some time more in exploring various passages in the neighbourhood of the “cave,” but without any _ satisfactory result except the discovery of a curious rock formation. This was. a flooring of perfectly smooth rock, patterned or ornamented with snow - white ribbon about half a yard wide; close to this was another rock-ribbon of brilliant red. The white ribbon proceeded, as it were, from under the rock, while the other eventually dispersed in vein-like ramifications of red. Could it have been pos- sible to view as a whole this wonder of Nature, the impression left would have been that of a waving Swiss flag. The explorers had by this time covered the distance of three thousand yards from the entrance to the cave, and in certain places near the end of their journey had ascended to an altitude of forty or fifty feet above the entrance, At last it became evident to the party that it was impossible to get farther. No amount of effort could batter down the walls that barred their progress, and nothing but a happy stroke of luck, such as had shown them the way to the “Crystal Cave,” would suffice to lead them to yet other unknown wonders. Hence they con- cluded to rest upon their laurels, and, as there was no outlet to the cave except by the way they had come, they made ready to retrace their steps. (Photo.

Page 129

120 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. little worried — over the fate of the visi- tors, and had already arranged a search- party in case they did not come back by Sunday night. Since this a sous- étage, or lower storey, has been dis- covered in the cave, with two large passages, over eight hundred yards and four hundred and hinety yards long respectively, but efforts to probe the depths failed. Two of these interesting ‘“ finds ” are now known as the “ Wehrli ‘THE “WEHRLI GATE,” DISCOVERED IN THE LOWER STOREY OF THE CAVE. Gate” and the Fron: a Photo. And not too early, either! They found, as they proceeded, that there had been an ominous atmospheric change, and that near the “Alli- gator Gulch” the results of heavy rain were apparent, and that parts of the cave, perfectly dry two days previously, were now in flood. Hastily they pressed on, and, safely over the * Bose Wand,” they could hear, near the ““Kamin,” the chiming of church bells in the valley. They were still a thousand yards from the entrance, yet could detect many sounds from outside which told them that the dangerous “Siphon” was still negotiable. When they reached the light of day it “was one o'clock in the afternoon of Sunday. They had spent forty-six hours in the under- world, and had been in parts where no man had ever set foot before. The inhabitants of Stalden THE SO-CALLED LAKE oF ZUKICH, alde Were not a “Zurich Lake.” It ; is also reported that a M. Rahire, of Brussels, has come across a third éfage, which is ordinarily inaccessible on account of water. No doubt the con- tinued investigations of adventurous dalesmen and visitors will yet add to our knowledge of this celebrated cavern, which, even in these days of exploring pluck, still possesses not a few terrors for the speleologist. IN THE TOWRK STOKRY OF THE KECENTLY-UISCOVERED CAVE, From a Photo,

Page 130

By Frank F. Liscuke. A miner’s romantic story of fabulously-rich gold deposits, revealed to a missionary by the Indians, sent the author and a partner to the extreme north of America by different routes, to endeavour to discover the new El Dorado. The partner was never heard of again; the author here relates the perils and privations of his own three-thousand-mile trip into the icy wastes of the Arctic—a thrilling record of long-continued suffering and indomitable resolution. ‘ y CHAIN of peculiar and romantic circumstances lured the writer from Dawson, Canada, to the extreme northern edge of the American continent, in quest of placer gold During this arduous journey—occupy- ing a period of a year—over three thousand miles were traversed, mostly through a forbidding and little-known wilderness, where rigorous climatic conditions, _ perplexing geographical features, and the dearth of natural resources re- sulted in many varied adventures, trying privations, and not a few desperate situations. For the benefit of those who are not familiar with “gold fever,” it is essential to give a brief out- line of the influences and the situation which led to my under- taking. The sensational gold dis- coveries at Klondike in 1897, with the helter-skelter stampede of fifty thousand fortune-hunters from all parts of the globe that ensued, caused Dawson to fairly leap into existence in an atmosphere of pro- digality that turned topsy-turvy all conceded standards of business conservatism. Tons of gold were thawed from the frozen gravel and lavishly circulated, and merely by driving claim-stakes poor men were made rich Vol. xviii, 16, THE AUTHOR, MK. FRANK F. LISCHKE. From a Photo. beyond their most optimistic dreams. A rumour passing from mouth to mouth was magnified into an authoritative report, which would send hundreds of excited men scurrying likegrabbits to some outlying district, all imbued with the one idea of locating an El Dorado. When the “pay sands” were discovered at Nome, Alaska, and millions of dollars’ worth of yellow dust was scratched from the shallow “tundra,” while thrilling stories of gold deposits—backed up by potato-sized nuggets—were brought from the Koyukuk country to the east of Nome, the attention of the Yukon populace was eagerly focused upon the vast unexplored section beyond the Arctic Circle, which report said was a veritable natural treasure- vault. In the midst of this outburst of gold fever, during the spring of 1901, I learnt in strict confidence from one Vance Wood- ruff, a friend, that a man named Charles Williams, a miner operat- ing on El Dorado Creek, had received a letter from a brother in Seattle to the effect that during the previous season he had made a fabulously rich gold-find near the Arctic Ocean. He had purchased a schooner and outfit and would sail for a point on Bering Sea after the ice break and go inland with a pack-train to the diggings. GOOogle (@ Digitize

Page 131

122 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. He strongly urged his brother Charles to sell out and join the proposed expedition. ‘The story in connection with this alleged marvellous discovery was decidedly alluring, forming the sequel to a chain of strange events extending over half a century. The father of the Williams brothers had been a soldier during the Civil War in the States. He and the chap- lain of his regiment were stanch friends. After the conflict Williams moved to California, while the chaplain drifted to the Northland as a missionary among the Indians. On the Arctic shores the natives gave him presents of nuggets, and guided him to a creek where the gravel was literally strewn with them, but fierce tribal wars prevented a further exploration of the gold- bearing territory at that time. Years later, shattered in health, the missionary went south to the home of his old comrade Williams, where he died, leaving behind him as a legacy the story of the gold deposits he had seen and a crude map of their location. ‘The Williams boys went to Klondike, one of them later pushing on to the Nome country with the missionary’s map. His letter to the Dawson brother, therefore, seemed to indicate a verifica- tion of the treasure story; it seemed probable that the chaplain’s chart had enabled him to find the Indian El Dorado. If this were so, then there was plenty of gold for several parties, though, the Williamses seemed to wish to keep it all to themselves ; and accordingly Woodruff and I agreed to try and locate the creek as well. Therefore, when Williams took passage on the Hannah down the Yukon for Nome, e# route to join his brother, Woodruff shipped on the steamer as one of the crew in order to try and learn his destination, concerning which he had refused to give any information. As for me, I decided to travel across the Alaska peninsula to the Arctic Ocean and work around the coast towards Nome, in the hope of coming across the Williams party or, failing this, locating some good placers. A suitable outfit was secured, including five “ malamutes,” which were to be used in packing goods across portages and sledding after the freeze-in. ‘These dogs are natives of the north, with a wolf strain in their breed ; they are tough in constitution, and require but little food or care, being protected from the severity of the climate by their heavy coats. On the last day of May, while float-ice packed the river, I made a start from Dawson with two skiffs. Edward Gardner, a cook, William Gorham, a jeweller, and “ Doctor” Stearns, a gambler, were my partners as far as the Koyukuk, seven hundred miles to the north. The first stage of the journey was to drift down the picturesque Yukon, with a four-mile current, five hundred and fifty miles to the mouth of the Dall River. A number of excit- ing incidents broke the monotony of this trip. At Coal Creek, near Forty Mile, the Yukon rushes through a curved, rock-studded canyon. A bridge of ice, left from the break-up, spanned a part of the stream from the outer shore-curve to a small island, its roof being about two feet above the water. Under this covering the boats were drawn by the swift current, and went grind- ing and whirling along for a hundred yards to the open water below. By lying flat on the bottoms of the boats none of us were injured, although the upper frame-work of the skiffs was torn to splinters. All were thankful for our narrow escape, for the chances of getting jammed under the ice-roof or being swamped by striking rocks were many. At Eagle City, the American Customs post just over the Canadian border, the ice-pack in a great bend of the river prevented a landing, and we were carried below the town against the face of a ragged bluff, where the tumbling, crunching ice-cakes ground the frail boats to pieces against the rocks as if they were made of paper. We only saved our lives with difficulty by leaping to a narrow fissure in the face of the cliff, from which position we were rescued by soldiers from the post, who lowered ropes from above. Another outfit was secured and the trip continued. On reaching Circle we were joined by two men bound for Koyukuk. Qne was a sailor called “Dutch” and the other was known as “ Boer,” from having fought against the British in South Africa. From the mouth of the Dall River it had been planned to desert the boats and go over- land. This, however, was not found feasible, as the flats were covered with water, and so the journey up-stream was continued with the boats. The first fifty miles lay through flooded flats, where the course of the river was marked like a lane through the woods. Slow progress was made in the swift current by “milking the bushes,” a term applied to pulling the boats forward by hauling on the branches. Near the head of the Dall, after eighteen days of boat- travel, packs were prepared for the land portage. Between the source of the Dall and the Koyukuk diggings lies a hundred-and-fifty-mile barrier of confusing mountain peaks, five to seven thousand feet high, among which meander creeks with no obvious watershed or relation to each other. With a scant five days’ supply of food packed on men and dogs we started in a north-east direction, according to the best information obtainable at that, time as to the

Page 132

A TREASURE-HUNT IN THE ARCTIC. 123 “WE WERE RESCUED BY SOLDIERS FROM THE POST, WHO LOWERED ROPES FROM ABOVE.” route. This course resulted in our paralleling the range between the Yukon and Koyukuk basins, and nearly caused the death from starvation of the entire party. Fog, rain, and snow hid the sun like a curtain, and an erratic course was followed from a pocket-compass. “ Dutch,” the great hulking sailor, unused to mountain travel, lagged behind, and was repeatedly warned about the danger. Finally he got lost. Two days after, when the mist lifted for a time, we found him whimpering like a child behind some rocks, whereupon he was promptly given a trouncing by his ex- asperated partner, the “Boer.” This annoying delay still further depleted our scanty food supply. After two more days of wandering the situa- tion became serious, and owing to our growing weakness we reduced our packs by discarding blankets, guns, and all non-essentials. For ten days we scrambled wedrily around jagged, wind- swept peaks, waded across boulder - strewn creeks, and wormed our way through tangled bushes in the valleys, with no nourishment but a few chipmunks, wild onions, and rosebuds. Our shoes had long since worn out, and our bruised and swollen feet were trussed up in rags and moss. Finally Gardner and Stearns became so weak that they could not proceed without help, and all of us were reduced to a pitiful plight, but still we staggered forward as the only chance for life. The sick men begged to be killed or left to die rather than suffer the torture of going farther, and some of the party stuffed their ears with moss to deaden the raucous din of the watching buzzards from behind the ghostly veil of mist. At the darkest hour of our awful tramp our misery was, if possible, intensified by the discovery of a corpse under a rotting tent. In the oven of a rusty miner’s stove we found a pan containing de- cayed strips from a moose-hide moccasin, which told the terrible story of hunger’s last extremity only too plainly. The weather clearing and a break in the mountains appearing to the north, we again stagzered forward at a halting and snail-like pace. Meanwhile the circles of the waiting vultures’ flight nar- rowed, and a pack of wolves skulked along in our rear, in anticipation of the coming feast. Our route was along a bare, glacial hogback, high above the timber-line, and all of us were in a condition to give up the seemingly hopeless struggle for life, when an incident happened which will always stand out in the lives of the members of that party as a direct intervention of Providence. Out of the drifting, low-hanging clouds ahead there suddenly loomed up a two-year-old moose. Under the pressing necessity of the occasion the sight was thrilling, as with a majestic sweep of antlers and graceful, swinging trot the animal drew nearer by a series of alternate advances and retreats. The writer had retained the only rifle in the party, and great was the torture of suspense and uncertainty while I waited for a safe shot, taking chances of the quarry scurrying out of range. The vital responsibility of life or death for the party attendant upon my success or failure steeled my quivering nerves with the calm of desperation. A strong wind made an accurate aim difficult, but when the animal reached a point three hundred yards away

Page 133

124 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. and stood like a graven image in all its wild virility and beauty, the rifle belched forth its leaden messenger and the moose bounded away for thirty yards and again faced about. At the second shot the animal, with head erect, pitched forward dead, amid the hoarse cheering of my famished companions. We secured the moose, and then a triumphant march was made to the timber-line with meat that we would not have exchanged at that moment for all the gold in the universe. After gorging moose-meat for two days and enjoying a much-needed rest, hope of survival returned to us and the journey was re- sumed. Vive days “AT THI SECOND SHOT THE ANIMAL 1'11CHEKD FORWAKD DEAD,” later, however, the food was exhausted once more, and our sufferings again became intense. After a seemingly impossible climb to the top of a watershed to the northward, the topography changed for the better and the sun shone for the first time during the trip. The route led along a level valley, two miles wide, walled in on cither side with abrupt, snow- shrouded, saw-toothed peaks, which stood out against a clear sky like Titanic ivory monuments and scintillated in the sun’s rays like enormous jewels. Underfoot was a thick growth of lichens, soft as a pillow to our lacerated feet. Hardy and many-coloured flowers of the blue-bell, primrose, and violet families brightened the sombre green of the moss, which stretched away for miles like a showy parlour carpet. After the weary days we had spent among the bare, dead peaks the valley seemed like a veritable Garden of Eden. Five miles farther on we discovered a considerable stream, fed by the thousands of dancing rivulets formed from melting snow and glaciers. On penetrating the timber-belt lower down we built a frail raft from some drift-logs, lashed together with willow-withes and rags stripped from our clothing. After carrying us for half a day the raft plunged into a tumbling rapid and went to pieces, hurling us headlong into the swirling waters, which finally carried us to a sand-bar. Poor “ Dutch” was drowned in the accident. Below we found two men camped, bound for Koyukuk. ‘They informed us we were on the Chandler River, and had just shot the most dangerous rapids in the country. They had flour and tea, which they placed at our dis- posal, and cheerfully tra- velled back twenty miles to bring up a sack of flour which had been “cached” below, so that we could recuperate in readiness to complete the trip to the Koyukuk —seventy miles distant. 3ad weather and roundabout detours, however, delayed pro-- gress, and in five days the precious flour was gone. Four more days of starva- tion and then a weak, ragged, and miserable party reached Myrtle Creek, a tributary of the Koyukuk, where miners fed us from a scanty supply of food which they had sledded a hundred and seventy-five miles. We then moved down to a cluster of cabins called Cold Foot, where plenty of food was available and where we enjoyed the first square meal for weeks. After a rest of several days, having said good- bye to my companions, I made arrangements to continue my trip to the Arctic in search of El Dorado through a wilderness two hundred and fifty miles across, never before traversed by a white man. I chose “ Cyclone” Johnson, a seasoned Yukon pionecr, as my partner. We Grifted down the Koyukuk for a hundred and twenty-five miles to Bergman, where we outfitted. Working back up the river to Bettles, we severed our last tie with civilization by ascending the John River, heading now for the Arctic water- shed. Working hard fifteen hours a day for two weeks, poling and towing the skiff, we finally reached the source of the river, about a hundred and forty miles above. Digitized by Google Cc

Page 134

A TREASURE- HUNT ‘The Arctic watershed was crossed over a low pass eight miles long, and good progress was made with the help of the dogs in dragging the boat and supplies over the smooth, wet “tundra” to the head of the Anaktuvuk, which flows into the Arctic Ocean. On the -high, bald peaks mountain sheep, goats, and ibex could be observed in flocks, but they were wary, and detected our approach for a long distance in the rarefied atmosphere. By lying in wait all night, shivering on a wind-swept ridge, we were able to kill five sheep one morning while on their way to the feeding-ground. Down the Anaktuvuk, the sluggish east fork of the Colville, we drifted through a rolling plateau, where migratory herds of hundreds of caribou waxed fat on reindeer moss and lichens. They showed no signs of fear, and seemed curious to know what kind of animals we were. Myriads of ducks and geese quacked and flut- tered around their breeding-grounds in the “tundra” ponds. Before reaching the Colville we came to a peculiar freak of Nature in the way of a small grove of willows with a score of Balm of Gilead trees twenty-five feet high, which loomed up on the flat waste like palms in a desert. Here we built a crude hut of moss, poles, and stones, and “ cached” some caribou meat and supplies as a precaution in case the route was used for the return trip. For a hundred and fifty miles the river fol- lowed a sinuous course through the flat, moss- carpeted, monotonous coastal plain. The water was shallow, and twenty miles before reaching the Arctic the stream divided into many deltas. ‘Tides were almost imperceptible, and_ the decline of the land into the sea sogradual that a ship could not get within miles of the coast. In attempting to work around the shore with the boat we were wrecked against an ice-bank by driving wind and waves, and after this misfortune the dogs were hooked to the sleds and we travelled along the beach. Seals and walrus were plentiful, and one of the latter was shot for his hide and to pro- vide food for the dogs. On September 1st an ice-laden blast whistled in from “BEFORE HE SUCCUMBED HE SUCCEEDED IN ASLLING TWO IN THE ARCTIC. 125 over the sea, the sun was swallowed in the tempest, and it became intensely cold. As the weather showed no sign of improvement, but, instead, grew rapidly worse, we reluctantly came to the conclusion that it would be mad- ness—sheer suicide—to waste further time in looking for the Williams party or to try and work our way around the desolate coast to Nome. Our treasure-hunt was at an end; our only chance for life was to go back on our tracks and reach the grove on the Anaktuvuk before the darkness and awful cold of the Arctic night set in. d When, dispirited and worn out, we reached the spot where the walrus had been shot, to secure the rest of the meat, we found five Polar bears in the vicinity, having been brought in by an ice-floe driven ashore by the wind. They showed signs of timidity and slunk away, but when we began hacking at the walrus carcass, either the robbing of their larder or the howling of the dogs aroused the anger of the great brutes, and they came forward growling viciously. When it appeared that they intended to give battle we opened fire on them, and ere long three of the brutes were killed, whereupon the other two retired. The leader of the pack, a shaggy, slow-moving, wicked-eyed beast, with great layers of fat and muscle shielding his vital points, continued to advance with a dozen bullets in his body, and before he succumbed succeeded in killing two of the dogs which had rushed into the fray. Loading the sleds with bearskins and all the meat that could be hauled over the sleet- covered “tundra,” we pushed on toward the “ Cys “| ai fe THe Dou. Digitized k ke \ 3008

Page 135

126 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Colville, which was reached in the latter part of September, our progress having been delayed by blizzards. ‘The shortening daylight and increasing severity of the storms brooked no. delay, but during one period of five days, when a gale drove showers of fine, shot-like ice through the air, blotting everything from sight, we were compelled to huddle in the snow with the dogs, subsisting on frozen bear-meat. About the middle of October—worn out, frost-bitten, sick, and famishing—we reached the “cache” in the little grove on the Anak- tuvuk, and no one could describe the joy and thankfulness we felt upon entering the meagre, stunted patch of woods and the cramped, dark hovel. Never was a banquet appreciated more than that first cooked meal, after living for over a month on raw, frozen, and nauseating walrus and bear meat. By November the dwindling daylight had disappeared entirely, and the pall of Polar night shrouded a dead, frozen desolation. Cut off from humanity as effectually as though sealed in a tomb, oppressed by gloom, ghostly silence, utter help- lessness, and absolute monotony, we were plunged into an awful melancholy, where reason wavered in the balance. Provisions getting low and the loneliness of our situation being unendurable, we started about the end of the year towards the south, where the sun, like a blotch of blood, for a few minutes a day forecasted the coming dawn and the end of the Arctic night. Then ensued two weeks of torture from pitiless storms, accentuated by the bone-racking toil of breaking trail with snow-shoes, tugging with the dogs at the sleds, and wallow- ing through the drifting snow. Finally we reached an old igévo (native hut) at the head of the John River. Hands, feet, and faces were black and swollen from repeated freezings, and the writer’s lungs were frosted from the icy air, so that every breath drawn felt like inhaling flames. One of the dogs was killed for food, and thus we managed to keep from starving. Jobnson took a short hunting trip to try and kill an Arctic hare or willow ptarmigan. Going farther than his strength would permit, “EN SAWUME. “WITH A vicious he became exhausted and dragged himself back to camp after twenty hours of exposure. There he found me unconscious, bespattered with blood, my arm badly lacerated, and a dead dog lying across my face. While Johnson. was away the most savage dog in our outfit—a brute which had only been kept in order by frequent beatings—became em- boldened by hunger, and its wild instincts broke through the thin veneer of domesticity. Crouching low, with green eyes half closed and blazing like candle-flames in the gloom, its lips wrinkled away from its great fangs, the beast gloated over the helplessness of its former master. Anticipating what was to follow, I rumpled my furs well about my neck and grasped my knife. The dog seemed to realize that the action was intended to foil him, and with a vicious growl plunged at my throat, snapping SROWL HR PLUNGED AT MY THROAT.” Soman

Page 136

A TREASURE-HUNT IN THE ARCTIC. 127 its strong jaws over my left arm, which I threw up for a guard. The other dogs promptly joined in the attack, and were struggling and snarling around me, when, slashing out with the frenzy of self-preservation, I cut the ringleader’s throat. Then came oblivion. Storms and our desperate physical condition, due to hardships and hunger, delayed travel for aweek. Going down the John River the timber was plentiful, and with roaring fires and an occasional hare we managed to exist, although our feet were now in such a condition that every step brought forth a groan of pain. Slowly the crimson gash in the southern horizon began to expand each day as the sun arose from its long sleep, and every yard we traversed brought us nearer to safety and rest. At Bettles we found a shortage of food, and glass, affording no foothold, and often dogs, men, and sleds were blown back like feathers down the slippery ice. On reaching Robert’s Creek, where the route diverged across a high divide to the Chandler River, we were blizzard-bound, and suffered intensely from the cold. Our food was exhausted when, after three days of waiting, the weather permitted a passage over the baffling divide to the Chandler. Overflows still delayed progress, and the sun's rays, reflected from the monotonous fields of snow, caused Farnsborough to become helpless from snow-blindness. After going four days without food we met two men near the rapids where the raft wreck of the previous summer had occurred. They were sledding in whisky, from Fort Yukon to Cold Foot, and in spite of “AT THE MUZZLE OF A RIFLE WE FORCED THESE INHUMAN WRETCHFS TO HAND OVER ENOUGH BACON AND FLOUR TO LAST US TWO DAYS,” ” preparations were accordingly made to “ mush on to Dawson. Johnson remained in Koyukuk, and I took a man named Farnsborough as a partner. At Cold Foot there was great excitement over the finding-of three thousand-dollar nuggets on Hammond River, twenty-five miles above. We stampeded with others to the discovery and located some claims, and then continued our journey with food supplies sadly depleted by the side trips. From Cold Foot we crossed a path to the south fork of the Koyukuk, which was found covered with overflows; slow advance was made along the bank. The thermometer dropped to sixty-five degrees below zero, with a strong wind. ‘The overflows froze as smooth as the fact that they had plenty of supplies they refused to part with any portion of them, although we and the dogs were starving and a hundred and twenty miles from the nearest food supply. At the muzzle of a rifle we forced these inhuman wretches to hand over enough bacon and flour to last us two days. Before teaching Fort Yukon a fresh misfortune befell us —our sorely-tried dogs gave out and were killed, and all the outfit was left along the trail. After a short rest the long march of three hundred and fifty miles up the Yukon to Dawson was begun. ‘This was comparatively easy, as an occasional mail-cabin, road-house, and supply post gave food and shelter. On reaching Dawson I was in very bad condition, with

Page 137

128 THE WIDE frosted lungs and vitality at a low cbb, so that it was imperative I should seek a warmer climate and take a long rest. On the sled-stage trip of three hundred and sixty miles from Dawson to Whitehorse my troubles were not yet over. It was the last attempt of the stage to get up the river before the break-up, and the ice was covered with overflows and thoroughly rotten. Near Selkirk stage and horses broke through, drowning the four-horse team and very nearly ourselves. ‘The river was obviously unsafe, so for the last hundred and fifty miles we took to the wouds along the stream and walked. While in a road-house at Selkirk we were exposed to a case of small-pox, and upon reaching Whitehorse all the passengers were quarantined by the North-West Mounted Police and held in jail for two wecks before being allowed to proceed. We set out again on the 3oth of May—one year from the time I had started on my ill- starred journey to discover a second El Dorado. ‘This story will give many people the first inkling of the real basis of my trip, for the men with whom I travelled and suffered were not aware that I had any other object than prospecting. Poor Woodruff, my original partner in’ the venture, who followed Williams down the river, has never been heard of since. I will complete my story by a brief account of the result of the schooner voyage projected by he man who first set afloat the story of the new Golconda. It appears that G. W. Williams told his sensa- tional story upon his arrival in Seattle from the north to some well-to-do Dawson miners, and these men entered into a contract with him to finance an expedition to secure the gold. A schooner was purchased, together with a pack- train and full outfit necessary for a two years’ trip, and ten men were employed under a two years’ agreement at high wages. All movements were conducted with such secreey that these men did not know the exact object or destina- tion of the party. It had been the intention of those on board the schooner to sail long before the regular boats plying to Nome would start, taking their chance of getting through the Bering ice-pack. Under pressure brought to bear by the restless miners, however, who were anxious to get away for the gold-ficlds, the steamer Mome City made an alteration in its sailing date from about June 1st to April 3oth. ‘This incident changed the plans of the Williams party, who sold their schooner and took passage with their effects on the first steamer out. ‘To secure accommodation they were compelled to buy the privileges of WORLD MAGAZINE. others at an exorbitant figure, as all passenger and freight space had been contracted for months before the sailing. The Seattle Lost-Intelligencer, under date of April 30th, 1901, said, in connection with the sailing of the Wome Cit, the first vessel to get away from Nome :— “On the Nome City were G. W. Williams, an old Dawson frontiersman, who led the most interesting party aboard the vessel, by reason of the mystery surrounding his movements and pre- parations. In the party were M. E. Battery, L. A. Clark, D. Richards, E. Battery, H. Caldwell, and ten men in their employ. While no definite information was given out, an abso- lute secrecy has been maintained as to the destination of the party; it is thought that their objective point is either the Siberian coast or some place on the Arctic coast above Cape Prince of Wales, and that as the result of the expedition another great find of gold of the magnitude of Nome or Dawson is anticipated.” On this voyage the Nome City, while trying to force her way through the ice, was caught in a pack and carried far to the north of Nome, where she lay helpless for forty days. By the time she got out and reached her destination, the dozen or more boats which had left Seattle a month or six weeks after her had all arrived at Nome. The Williams party, with but a short season ahead of them, pushed into the interior at once in search of the missionary’s treasure-ground. After travelling for nearly two months, with winter about to set in, it became evident to the prospectors that Williams had never been in the locality before. Upon being bluntly charged with perfidy, he confessed that he had deccived his associates, feeling confident that if he could only get into the interior with a good outfit he would be certain to find some rich diggings, in view of the fabulous wealth which was being turned up on the Nome beach. ‘The enraged miners held a meeting and decided to hang Williams there and then for his duplicity ; but wiser counsels finally prevailed, and the party made its way back to Nome after great suffering. The missionary’s tale, if correct, probably referred to the Nome diggings, as the country farther to the north has since been extensively prospected without any indications of very rich placers being discovered. Thus the greed and duplicity of one man brought ruin and disaster to two parties, who were led on a wild-goose chase to the portals of the North Pole in quest of the golden hoard alleged to exist in these ice-guarded solitudes.

Page 138

Down the Grand Canyon. By E. W. G. WEsson. A description of a daring and adventurous trip by boat down that most magnificent of chasms, the Grand Canyon: of the Colorado, in Arizona—a marvellous gorge over two hundred miles long, fifteen miles from brink to brink, and six thousand feet deep. Mr. Wesson illustrates his narrative with some impressive photographs. J FTER spending a year in Southern | 4A California it seemed to me a rN thousand pities to leave that great BS | | Wonderland of the West without a visit to the Yosemite Valley and that Titan of chasms, the Grand Canyon of the Colorado, in Arizona. But a visit to “The World’s Great Paint- Shop,” as it has been called, with the idea of exploring its depths, is not a task to be lightly undertaken alone ; so I began to look around me for a companion of an adventurous turn of mind. By chance I met an artist who was about to visit the Grand Canyon a second time ; and we decided to go together to that “Great Gash in Nature’s Bared Breast”—I quote from some of the American tourist literature — “The Biggest Thing on Earth.” A few days later we left Los Angeles by the Santa Fé Railway’s transcontinental train for the little town of Williams, Arizona, where we changed to a local train of the Grand Canyon Railway, which leaves Williams daily, and arrives at its destination after a three hours’ run. We reached the hotel at the head of Bright Angel trail late in the evening, and found our- selves on the verge of a high precipice, from which by the moonlight we obtained a magnifi- cent view across the canyon of the opposite wall, and of the intervening crags, towers, and slopes. The suddenness and surprise of the revelation came as a fitting climax to a unique tri Hing spent a comfortable night at the Bright Angel Hotel, we arose*early next morn- ing to see the sun rise over the canyon. Many grand sights in the world are heralded by sound. The solemn music of Niagara Falls, the roaring of active geysers in Yellowstone Park, the intermittent thunder of the sea upon a rocky coast, are all distinguishable at some distance; but over the Grand Canyon of the Colorado broods a solemn silence. No warn- ing voice proclaimed its close proximity; no partial view prepared us for its awful presence ; the. world itself seemed to have suddenly yawned asunder, leaving one trembling on the hither brink of two dissevered hemispheres. Vast as the bed of a vanished ocean, deep as Mount Washington riven from its apex to its base, the grandest canyon in the world lay glittering below in the sunlight like a submerged continent. At my very feet, so near that I could have leaped at once into eternity, the earth was cleft to a depth of over six thousand THE START FOR THE CANYON, From a Photo. by Putman & Valentine. Vol. xviii. —17.

Page 139

130 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a) THE NERVE-TRYING TRAIL LEADING DOWN INTO THE CANYON, (Photo. feet—not by a narrow gorge, but by a gulf within whose cavernous immensity the forests of the Adirondacks would be scarcely perceptible, the Yosemite would be insignificant, Niagara would be indiscernible, and whole cities could be tossed like pebbles.* One seems to have arrived at the brink of what appears to be the very edge of the world ; to be looking into a whole chaotic under-world swathed in soft celestial fires, just emptied of primeval floods—regions waiting for a new creative word, eluding all sense of perspective and dimensions, and outstretching the faculty of measurement. The beholder is unimpressed by detail ; rather is he overwhelmed by the stupendous panorama as a whole—a panorama embracing a thousand square miles, wholly beneath the eye; just as if he stood upon a mountain peak, instead of the level brink of a fearful chasm “The Grand Canyon of the Colorado is two hundred and eighteen miles in length and fifteen miles across from rim to rim. in the plateau, whose opposite shore is fifteen miles distant. Only by ,descending into the canyon can one arrive at anything like comprehension of _ its proportions; and the descent cannot be too urgently commended to every traveller who is sufficiently strong to en- dure a reasonable amount of fatigue. At an early hour we mounted our horses and commenced our journey down Hance’s trail. It was like descending a Jacob’s ladder, zigzagging at an unrelenting pitch ; but at the end of two miles we reached a com- paratively gentle slope, some two thousand five hundred feet below the rim—roughly eight times the height of the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral. Overshadoyed by sand- stone walls of chocolate hue, the way grew gloomy and foreboding and the gorge gradually narrowed, passing beneath a slanting cliff five hundred feet high, in the face of which has been worn a gigantic niche, named the Temple of Sett, in recognition of its fancied Egyptian character. A little beyond this natural “temple” we were obliged to abandon our horses owing to the narrowness of the trail and the presence of obstacles in the shape of steep interposing crags, over which we had to clamber laboriously. We had come a long way, but the river was still a mile and a half distant. After sundry minor difficulties there came a precipice which we descended by the aid of ropes, until at last we arrived at a drop of forty feet by the side of a cascade, where there were just enough irregu- larities in the wall to give a precarious foothold. ‘The narrow cleft became extremely wayward in its course, turning abruptly to right and left ; and working down this pathway into the great unknown, with its twilight depths and deathly stillness, we hoped at every turn to see, through the opening in the cliffs, a vista of the canyon and river, and to hear the roaring of the waters.

Page 140

DOWN THE GRAND CANYON. 13t When at last the river was reached, after a final downward clamber, we found ourselves standing upon a sandy rift confronted by nearly vertical-walls many hundred feet high, at the base of which a black torrent raced along in a slide that momentarily gave us a sensation as of slipping into space. Then there suddenly burst into view the Colorado river in the heart of its tremendous channel—a sight that has had fewer witnesses even than the remote scenes of darkest Africa. Dwarfed by its prodigious mountain shores, which rise immediately from the water at an angle that would defy footing to mountain sheep. it is not easy to estimate its width and volume, Although choked by huge granite boulders at this point, it is probably about three hundred feet wide, with a velocity of something like fifteen miles an hour, and having a volume and turmoil that can only be likened to the Whirlpool Rapids of Niagara. This tortuous stream was visible for only a few hundred yards, but its effect upon the mind is the greater for that reason. The river was laden with huge tree - trunks, the re- sult of the recent floods, which it tossed like match- wood in its terrible play. Since the first venture in boats down the Grand Canyon others have year by year run the gauntlet, only to meet with dire disaster. Many hardy adventurers are buried on its banks, and others have found a_ resting - place beneath the leaping waters. The day had now gone, darkness had all but fallen ; and with the rising of the moon we looked around for a spot where we could sleep. And now, before essay- ing a description of our perilous journey down the canyon — an_ experience demanding all the quali- ties of the adventurer and explorer, combined with keen observation, indomit able energy, and endur- ance —let me give you some idea of the task we had undertaken. Looked down upon from those thousands of feet above, the Colorado appears a little silver thread. When reached, however, it is a wild, raging, roaring torrent, with over five hundred rapids, falls, and cataracts in a pathway terrible to contemplate. Try to realize, therefore, what have been the experiences of those who have made the journey upon it in a frail boat. Previous to 1889 no one had traversed these canyons save Major Powell and his party in 1869; and no one has ever made a continuous journey along the waters of this river from its source to its estuary with the exception of Robert B. Stanton, a famous explorer and engineer of the West. Following the trail along the wall we pro- ceeded the next morning in the direction of a THE COLORADO RIVER, PHOTOGRAPHED FROM MANY HUNUKED FEET AUOVR. From a Photo, by Putmap-&

Page 141

132 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. small hut, which, we were told, was situated in a glen about three miles away, inhabited by a man named Silas and his wife. ‘This man had a boat which we intended to hire. Silas was a noted character—a_ powerful athlete and remarkably skilful in the use of the rifle. Of this skill we had a startling illustration when coming in sight of his habitation. In making a sharp turn round the cliff, I stopped for a moment to light my pipe. To my amazement the light was quickly extinguished by a shot, followed by the laughing remark, “How’s that for a shot, boss?” Later we learned that Silas had been mixed up in several sanguinary affairs, which accounted for his residence in the canyon—about the safest place he could find, I should think, in the great continent of America. “The couple invited us to partake of their scanty hospitality, and during a frugal meal we bargained for the use of their boat. The hire of this was eventually fixed at such a price as to allow for all contingencies. Having made all the necessary arrangements for the journey, we took our way down to the river. Silas and his wife came to see us off, with many good wishes for a successful trip. At this point the river runs comparatively quietly through magnificent scenery, with glens that are vast amphitheatres, enclosed by over- hanging cliffs, from which often flow many beautiful cascades. From here onwards the great Colorado plateau rises little by little, from but a few hundred feet in height, until it reaches the truly awe-inspiring altitude of over five thousand feet. Here it was that we entered upon our hazardous journey. It would be useiess in this short narrative to attempt to do justice to the magnificence of the scenery through which we passed ; the spectacle is so varied and _pic- turesque in every way, and so completely excludes the outside world and its accus- tomed standards, that it is with difficulty one can acquire any idea of its magnitude. A canyon truly, but not after the accepted type; rather it is an intricate system of gorges, each subordi- hate to the river chan- nel in its midst, which in its turn is subordi- nate tothe whole effect. The first day’s run was made without any particularly striking incident beyond the overturning of the boat on endeavouring to effect a landing at the end of the day, whereby we spoilt much of our pro- visions. Throughout the entire length of the canyon one experi- ences the same diffi- culty in beaching a boat, as there are very few reaches where it can be effected with any degree of safety, owing to the swiftness of theystream. PIDS OF WHICIE T DESCRIBED,

Page 142

DOWN THE GRAND CANYON. 133 We passed the night in a small natural cave in the canyon walls. This was probably the most re- markable experience of its kind in all my travels. Sleep was out of the question for some hours owing to the roaring of the waters but a few yards away, so we spent the time in discussing the possi- bilities of our venture, until lulled to sleep by the rhythm of the swirling flood. Up before daybreak the next morning, we made a hearty meal —cooked by means of a fire made from the branches of overhanging trees—and with the rising of the sun started on the second stage of our journey through the canyon, without the slightest idea of what might be in store for us at every turn of the river. Ere long we were considerably alarmed by the way our frail craft behaved on getting into more rapid waters. In coming round some projecting cliffs the boat suddenly dashed into a veritable whirlpool, and as she turned out into the eddy a big wave between the main stream and the whirl- pool upset it without a moment’s warning. We were both pitched bodily into the whirlpool, and for a brief space were whirled round and round, being finally shot clear into the current. My companion, being a powerful swimmer, succeeded in reaching the bank some distance below; whilst I, after being carried down the stream full tilt, was thrown by a wave on to some projecting rocks, from which, with considerable difficulty, I was able to wade ashore, badly bruised and shaken. We had now lost our boat and all the pro- visions, with the exception of the little we carried in our pockets, which was, of course, wet through. Feeling sure that we should strike an Indian settlement lower down the river, however, we pushed on along the narrow strip of beach, hoping before long to meet with a crossing. Throughout that day and the following we plodded on—too weary to speak or to note the wild beauty and grandeur of the gorge ; living on the small portion of biscuit we had saved and a little brandy, with as much river water as we wished. Nevertheless, we were fully resolved not to give up unless absolutely compelled by From a Phot want of food. We forged ahead, passing a number of rapids, and getting deeper all the while between the walls of the great gorge. After another night in the canyon we came in sight, about noon on the following day, of the long-looked-for crossing, opposite to one of those wonderful and many-storeyed cliff-dwellings on the face of a wild precipice—a primeval Indian home situated on the top of a barren and dizzy cliff. This is the home of the modern Pueblos. Crossing the river at this point by means of a naturally-formed bridge of tree-trunks, which are washed down on to the rocks in time of flood, we made our way up to the little settlement of the Indians. Here we -found a people hospitable enough, and obtained from them sufficient food for the remainder of our journey. On hearing the story of our journey down the river and the loss of

Page 143

134 THE ‘ ANGELS’ GATEWAY.” From a f’hote. by\ our boat, they went down to the stream and ultimately recovered it from an almost inex- tricable position among the rocks. After a couple of days’ rest amongst these modern cliff-dwellers, during which time the boat was repaired, we once again turned our faces-—- not without many misgivings—towards the river, with the intention of completing our journey, which we calculated would take at least another three days. Bidding the Indians fare- well, after receiving many warnings, we were soon again on the river in very swift water, and shortly found ourselves at the head of two exceptionally rough and rocky rapids, which, however, we “ portaged” with considerable difficulty, and passed on through yet another canyon, requiring a great deal of negotiating, with much toil and danger to life. ‘To be imprisoned between those great tower- ing walls, which looked as though they would fall in at every moment, and gave us warning that the only way to escape was down those awful rapids, through the unspeakable horrors of an endless Valley of the Shadow of Death, with no certain knowledge that we should come out alive at the end; to toil for days and days through the ever-raging torrent at the bottom of that great chasm, in which every step is irretriev- able, has been the fortune of but very few. To stand in the bow of the boat as she dashed headlong through one rapid after another, with THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE, first the bow and then the © stern jumping into the air, and some- times travelling at the rate of fifteen to twenty miles an hour, was an experience — that began to pall on us, and, to be quite candid, we more than once heartily wished ourselves out of the whole venture. On one occa- sion when we started into the head of a rapid the boat was travelling at such a speed that she was carried clean over the first two waves on to the top of the next and away out into the air, dropping with a terrific crash some twenty feet into the boiling stream below, trembling like an aspen leaf, and escaping the rocks by little short of a miracle. ‘Though half full of water, she fortunately righted herself and passed safely through the remainder of the rapids into smoother water. Quite apart from the rocks, another great danger in crossing these rapids is the immense whirlpools and eddies on either side ; to miss the channel by ever so little would mean turning the boat into one or the other, and cause such a sudden checking of the bow that the stern would whip round like a top and result in the utter destruction of both the boat and_ its occupants. Just below one great maelstrom in the heart of the canyon we experienced one of the most exciting incidents in the journey. The channel here is so narrow and the bends of the river are so sudden as to cause the stream to rush from one side to the other in a zigzag course, forming innumerable whirlpools, eddies, and chutes. Our boat—caught first in one and then another —suddenly spun round like a leaf in a whirl- wind; then darted off at racehorse speed, at times almost dashing against the walls of the canyon. Several times we narrowly escaped being carried over the rapids stern first, and on one occasion only missed destruction by a hair’s breadth, by jumping out on to some vail (Putman & Valentine,

Page 144

DOWN THE GRAND CANYON. 135 projecting rocks and holding on to the boat with a rope. Hauling the craft round to the other side of the rocks, we started again in a stretch of comparatively smooth water, and glided almost imperceptibly for an hour or more along parts of the river where there was scarcely a ripple on the surface. This gave one the impression, after the rough time we had had, of passing over an oil stream, and came as a great relief to our sorely-tried nerves. Suddenly rounding a sharp turn in the river, however, we came face to face with a roaring, foaming rapid only a few yards ahead. Before we could make any preparations we were caught in that mighty roll and dropped into the trough of the waves below. It was all over in a moment. Half blinded with spray, before we had time to quite realize what had happened, a cross current shot us over the worst part of the rapid. Crouched down in the bottom of the boat, and holding on like limpets, it was all we could do to save ourselves from being smashed to pieces on the rocks ahead. The boat became quite unmanageable, and as we struck the whirlpool below the rapids we spun round and round about twenty times, until finally our craft was shot into an eddy, and floated quietly and gracefully as a swan into smooth water. Even in the most dangerous parts of the canyon, between the most powerful rapids, there are stretches of perfectly calm water, and it was in these spots that we had an opportunity to study the awe-inspiring scenes of grandeur and beauiy that are depicted in some of the photographs. Each turn in the river brought to view some won- derful picture, each more beautiful than the last. We had now arrived at a spot where there are some of the worst and most powerful rapids of the river, composed of three falls—in all, a drop of probably thirty feet—where the current, turned aside by huge boulders as it passed over the first fall—dashes against the cliffs, and is thrown back with terrific force, meeting the current from the right as-it swerves out into the stream at the head of the third fall. Some little distance ahead of this point we ran the boat up on to the narrow beach, so that we could ascertain if there was a possible chance of “portaging” the rapids ; but on close exam- ination it was quite evident that there was no chance of getting the craft overland. We accord- ingly went back to the boat, and having made everything ready were soon prepared for the final plunge. I believe, from what I subsequently heard, that it was here several men were lost in an attempt to cross the falls some few years since. In less time than it takes to describe we were ah coe 2% ; 4 BGs Gg ee { Rae ee Bite Ok | Tos ear BS s BES a te ce 2S IRE ye ere Sea a & re EEN ET CURIOUS ROCK FORMATIONS—THE " SPUINX” AND’ THE “RUINS OF PARADISE.” From a Photo. by Putman & Valentine,

Page 145

136 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THIS STRIKING PHOTOGRAPH GIVES AN EXTENDED VIEW OF A SMALL PORTION OF THE GREAT GORGE. From a Photo. by Putman & Valentine. at the head of the first fall, and were soon shoot- ing through a dozen huge waves and making straight for the second fall. As we looked down into that surging mass of water it seemed impossible that any boat could possibly go through it and come out uninjured ; but there was no time for thinking further, for we were in the midst of the breakers, which dashed us from one side to the other, nearly filling the boat. Half blinded by the spray, I turned for a moment to see if my c.mpanion was still in the boat, when, to my horror, I saw that we were being carried by the current at a fearful pace to the cliffs! I fully expected every moment that we should be dashed against the rocks ahead, but, to our amazement, the boat was suddenly turned off by the rebounding waves, throwing us on to our backs in the bottom. Before we could regain our feet the craft was tossed bodily by a huge wave nearly thirty feet to the right, on to a projecting rock. Atthis sudden stoppage we were both pitched forward, and the boat, with a hole in the bottom a foot square, rapidly filled with water. In quick succession wave after wave rolled over us until one, more powerful than the rest, turned the boat compretely overand precipitated us with tremendous force into the whirlpool. More dead than alive we were drawn down in a state of semi-consciousness to the bottom; the time seemed an age, and the river bottomless. How we escaped a watery grave I never knew; but when we came to the surface it was to find ourselves at the lower end of the rapids, hundreds of feet from the spot where we went in. Here, with great difficulty and in a thoroughly ex- hausted condition, we succeeded in reaching the bank. It was only then, as we stood on the shore of this lonely river and saw it shooting stealthily and swiftly from the rocks above the rapids, and disappearing mysteriously between the dark gates of granite, that we realized what a heroic exploit the first navigation of the river had been; for absolutely nothing had been known of its imprisoned course through this entanglement of chasms, or could be known, except by exploring it in boats, so inaccessible and difficult are the few points where it is possible for a human being to reach its perpendicular banks. Little we knew when we launched our boat upon these mysterious waters that everything was against the possibility of a craft of any description living in such a seething current, studded as it is with a multitude of rocks, tortured with rapids, and twisted with whirl- pools ; while, as it proved in our case, in the event of being wrecked there is little to hope for, save these rugged rocks to cling to for support. We had now been seven days at the bottom of the canyon, and, with our boat gone, there was nothing left but to get out somehow on foot. Accordingly, though wet through, weary, and hungry, we set about climbing the great wall, hoping to reach some resting-place in the cliffs before it was dark. Towards evening we reached a point about a thousand feet above the river, where we pre pared to remain for the night, making a crack- ling fire from the dry branches of the overhanging cedar trees. Sitting on the edge of the precipice, with our backs to the fire, we looked out upon the darkness of the night; the whole chasm below us was hushed in silence, save for the rustling of the wind inthe trees, Making a bed

Page 146

DOWN THE GRAND CANYON. 137 From a Photo, by) for the night from the smaller branches of the trees around, we lay down in a rift in the canyon wall, having been without food for nearly thirty- six hours. Long before daybreak our sleep was ended, but it was too risky to attempt any further climbing in the darkness; besides which we were so stiff from the cold and our wet clothes that it was only with considerable difficulty and pain that we were able to get on our feet at all. But the sight which met our eyes on coming into the open was well worth the effort. Away out to the east, across the canyon, appeared the first rays of the coming day, lighting up one by one the towers and peaks and cloisters, round the base of what might well be a magnificent temple—a most impressive scene. It was at this period of our journey that the real physical difficulties commenced, and the cold morning air reminded us that we must once more be moving upwards. The face of the red sandstone walls of the canyon at this point is very broken, and the absence of a track among the huge boulders makes the climbing very difficult and renders progression very slow. Many were the rests we took during the day, and at every turn in the cliffs we stopped to gaze in all directions below us at the tangled skein of mountain ranges, thousands of feet in height, which the walls of the canyon enclosed as if it were a huge sarcophagus. To stand on the edge of some overhanging rock and look down upon this ever-changing scene as it receives its earliest greeting from the day was A DEPTH OF SIX THOUSAND FEET AND A WIDTH OF FIFTEEN MILES. [Putman & Valentine. to enjoy, in a moment, compensation for the days of toil and labour we had undergone. As we neared the summit of the cliffs, lakes of soft white clouds were floating round the summits of the canyon mountains, hiding the huge crevasse beneath, as a light coverlet of snow oft conceals a chasm in an Alpine glacier. At last, hungry and spent, we reached the rtm of the plateau. Here another phase of the canyon’s wonderful beauty lay revealed—another fleeting glimpse of its thousand varying moods. Outside the canyon a strong wind was blowing. and the whole of the vast chasm was roofed with masses of grey clouds, hurrying swiftly along. The gloom of their presence was mag- nificent. All the distracting lines of the canyon walls were lost, the colouring unified and made harmonious by the deep blue curtain of mist. The traveller who goes out to the edge and peers fearfully into the great abyss sees but one phase out of hundreds; but to know it, to feel its majesty and awfulness, one must camp in the bottom, traverse the river, the falls, the rapids, and the whirlpools, and watch the sunset and the moonrise while the river marches from its lair like an angry lion. To man it will ever be a glorious mystery, and when all the earth has been explored, when the secrets of Nature have been discovered, when the field of adventure has been narrowed to the utmost, the Grand Canyon will remain unspoiled by the touch of human hands, as awful in its unique grandeur as it is to-day. (The writer is indebted to the courtesy of the Santa Fé Railway Company for some of the photegraphs atpearing with this article.) Vol. xviii.—18,

Page 147

Father Raymond’s Burglar. By HucuH Ha irax. This remarkable narrative was first told to the author, in confidence, by a missionary clergyman, to whom the “burglar” referred to had imparted his strange life - history. Subsequently Mr. Halifax obtained the clergyman’s permission to set down the story for this Magazine, strictly on the understanding ~-for obvious reasons—that all names of places and people referred to, including his own, were to be suppressed. Apart from its strong human interest the narrative raises a perplexing problem in ethics. y Rea eARLY thirty years have passed U7a| since Raymond X. and I bade AN farewell to our college friends and as SxS) companions, and entered in earnest sos upon the business of life; he, in fulfilment of a long-cherished purpose, to become a hard-working missionary clergyman, and I to follow the alluring paths of literature in the hope of one day climbing the pinnacle of Fame. Fast friends we had been through all the vicissitudes of school and college life, and, in spite of the divergence of our ways in life, our friendship has but grown and strengthened with the lapse of years. After weeks and months, sometimes years, of toilsome journeyings— preaching, teaching, and consoling—it is to my fireside that “ Father Raymond,” as he is affec- tionately known, comes for relaxation, and over our final pipes many and strange are the experi- ences which, in his expansive moods, he confides to my ready car. Some of these stories I have often urged him to allow me to perpetuate in writing, and having at last succeeded in wringing from him a reluctant consent, I have here set down one which made, at the time of telling, a deep impression on me. As far as possible I narrate it in his own words, suppressing all names of persons and places in accordance with his express stipulation. We were sitting over the fire one windy March night, having our usual smoke and chat before retiring. We had been discussing the problem of business morality and the amassing of fortunes by speculation, etc., when in response to some remark of mine Raymond’s fine face clouded as he said : “No, no; it seems to be quite impossible to lay down any standard of our own by which to judge another, for what is exactly con- trary to our own preconceived views of right and wrong may be perfectly legitimate to the con- science of some other man. In proof of this I will tell you of a singular interview which I had about this time last year, when I was preaching Lenten sermons at the large manufacturing town of Z It was drawing towards the close of the course, and the rector of the parish was congratulating himself one evening after the service on the large and successful attendance, when the door-bell rang and a gentleman asked to see me. Excusing myself to the vicar, I entered the parlour, and was surprised to see a gentleman to whom I had been introduced, Mr. S——, one of the most successful and respected men in the town, and a stanch supporter of the church. Thinking that he had merely called as an act of courtesy towards a comparative stranger, I hastened to greet him, and inquired the purport of his visit. “Well, sir,’ replied he, ‘if you are not engaged I should like the pleasure of an hour’s conversation with you. I know you will be returning to London shortly, so that I may not have another opportunity. Do you know,’ he continued, smiling, ‘ever since I first saw you in the pulpit I have felt like the Ancient Mariner, where he says, ‘The instant that his face I see, I know the man who must hear me. To him my tale I teach.” Strange to say, I have never had that feeling before. I don’t suppose —if you will allow me to inflict myself upon you—that I shall ever experience it again.’ “ Begging my unexpected guest to seat himself by the fire, I rang the bell, and after ordering coffee, and giving instructions that we were not to be disturbed under any pretext whatever for the next hour, I drew up my chair to the side of the hearth and waited with some curiosity for the tale of my ‘Ancient Mariner.’ “ After regarding me steadily for a moment, Mr. S—— drew forth a large wallet from his pocket, extracted several bank-notes, and passed them across to me, saying, ‘Here are one hundred pounds, which I beg you to take and use as you think best in alleviating the lot of some unfortunate man whom you may deem in need of help. Give the whole amount to one man, father, for it was all taken from one, and is, in fact, the exact amount of my first and only burglary! Now, pray do not imagine,’ he continued, calmly, ‘that I am giving this as conscience money or by way of retribution ; nothing of the kind. It is simply in fulfilment of a promise which I made to myself when I took it, that if I made my coup successfully I

Page 148

FATHER RAYMOND’S BURGLAR. 139 “HE PASSED THEM ACKOSS TO ME, SAYING, ‘HERE ARE ONE HUNDRED POUNDS."* would some day return it in a lump sum to be of benefit to some such unfortunate as I then was myself. I dare say I have given as much several times over in small sums; but that is not the thing, and I thought that you, with your experience and sympathetic insight, might be able to use it to greater advantage than I could hope to do.’ “*Am I really to understand, Mr. S——, that this is in sober truth the proceeds of a burglary?’ I asked, in amazement; ‘and one, too, for which you do not seem to have any regret ?’ “©Regret, sir! Regret!’ repeated my visitor, warmly. ‘Why should I have regret for an action—known only to myself and my Maker— which has been the means of bringing lifelong happiness to myself and hundreds of others, of lifting a family from the depths of despair to power and authority? No! a thousand times no! Given the same circumstances, my action would be precisely the same with this slight difference—that I should not hesitate so long before acting! But, perhaps, if I were to tell you the causes of my deed you would come to regard it in the same light as I do myself.’ “This, of course, I could hardly promise ; still, I was certainly anxious to hear from what point of view an educated and influential gentleman could regard so startling a moral lapse. I signified my willingness to listen, and forthwith he began the following story ”:— About twenty years ago I was a young man of good abilities and character, holding a respon- sible position in a large firm in this same town of Z Although I was drawing a fair salary, the ordinary household and other expenses for myself and wife, with our six young children, prevented the laying by of any considerable sum ; but we were young and hopeful, and only anxious to do our best for all around us. Unfortunately, however, my firm decided to sell its business for a tempting figure, and one morning I and_ several of my fellow- employés were notified that our services would be no longer required by the new masters, “owing to a reduction of the staff.” My feelings that evening as I entered our happy little home can be better imagined than described. The blow was so utterly unexpected and so sweeping that my poor wife was horror-stricken. However, we could gain nothing by lamentations, so made up our minds to face the inevitable with as good a grace as possible. Every available expense was lessened at once, our elder children withdrawn from college, and I set myself to obtain some remunerative employment. To add to our misfortune at this juncture, two aged and crippled relatives, being left penni- less, claimed a home at our hands. This it was quite impossible for myself or my wife to refuse as long as we had a roof above us, so the question of money became an imperative one. We had always been exceedingly popular with our numerous friends and acquaintances. No friendly gathering was, considered complete

Page 149

140 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. without my wife’s conversation and musical talent, and many a friend whom I had at times helped out of a hole had sworn eternal gratitude to my humble self. Now all seemed changed. Everyone, of course, was aware of my altered fortunes, and at first we were overwhelmed by expressions of sympathy and condolence. But as time wore on, slowly but surely we were gradually left out of invitations to the houses at which we had always been welcome guests. Our friends came to see us at rarer and rarer intervals, and our children were no longer included in the many children’s parties and gather- ings given in the neighbourhood. As for myself, I had had no difficulty in obtaining a situation, but the salary was a mere pittance com- pared to our needs, and my struggles to start in business for myself were all in vain. I knew if I could but raise the necessary capital that all would be well, but at the mere hint of such a thing my former “friends ” shrank away as though I were plague- stricken. First and foremost amongst them were those whom I had formerly helped financially. All this naturally made me feel very bitter. “Here,” I said to myself, “am I practically the same man—if not in some respects a better one— mentally and morally, as I was a year ago; my wife and children are the same beings, and yet for no other reason than loss of money and position we are shunned, pitied, and patron- ized according to the different dispositions of all who knew us. Now, had any other trouble befallen me and left me pecuniarily untouched, everyone would have been different.” It really seemed as though mind, character, and every- thing else counted as nothing when compared _ with gold. Having come to this conclusion, I decided that, at the first favourable opportunity, I would obtain that much-esteemed article and again resume my old position. If my friends “THE BLOW WAS 50 UTTERLY UNEXPECTED THAT MY VOOR WIFE WAS HURROR-STRICKEN.” denied me the means to rehabilitate myself, perhaps Providence would come to my aid. It was surely more than a_ coincidence that no sooner had I really made up my mind on the subject than the chance was placed within my teach. Some weeks previously one of the curates of our church had been removed to awider field of labour, and having been over twenty years in the parish, labouring earnestly for the con- gregation, they took the opportunity of showing their grati- tude by subscribing liberally in order to present him with a purse of gold and an address. The amount collected was one hun- dred pounds, and this sum, together with the testimonial, was to be presented to him on Tuesday at a large meeting held in his honour, and to which he had been specially invited. I had con- tributed my mite, and heartily wished the good man well and success to the subscription list, but when I heard of the amount my feelings changed. Again I communed with my own heart. “This,” said I, ‘is the exact sum I require in order to enter business for myself. Look at the good it would do us, and, again, the Rev. Y. is unmarried, without ties, and pro- fesses an abhorrence of all earthly goods ; yet I am perfectly sure if I were to ask him—good and worthy man though he is—for the loan of even half of that sum he would refuse in most decided terms.” T resolved that come what might I would never ask another human being’s help, and that, if possible, I would possess myself of that hundred pounds before ‘Tuesday by some means or another. Of course, I only intended to take it as a loan, and return it as soon as I became successful. Well, the only thing that remained now was to decide on some plan of action and execute it as quickly as possible, as I had but four days at my disposal before the testimonial was to be presented, After much thought I

Page 150

FATHER RAYMOND’S BURGLAR. 14 determined to make the attempt on the evening of the function, while the concert which was to be given in the reverend gentleman’s honour ” was in progress. I had received a card of invitation to this entertainment in common with the majority of the congregation, so there was no difficulty to be apprehended if I could only depend on my nerve. On the eventful Tuesday evening my wife (who had not the faintest idea of the projects seething in my brain) proceeded with me to the large hall in which the concert was to be held and the presentation made, full of pleasant anticipations of an enjoyable evening. I had provided myself with a black mask and a short black cape, which were safely and closely wrapped in my coat-pocket. We exchanged greetings with all our friends and neighbours, and ensconced ourselves com- fortably in a back seat. When the performance —a very creditable one, by the way—was in full swing, I seized the opportunity furnished by a change of artistes to quietly slip from my seat ‘This was and make my way into the outer air. the moment on which all my future depended ! The street was deserted, and moving quickly and cautiously to the back of the hall I drew my mask and cloak from my pocket and slipped them on. I then proceeded, after a hurried survey of my sur- roundings, to force the window which led from the street into the small ante-room where (as I had previously learned) the handsomely-worked purse of gold and illuminated address lay in a small safe or cupboard awaiting the moment of presentation. Slipping back the catch with my clasp-knife, I was speedily in the room, with the perspiration standing on my forehead, found my way tothesafe, pulled open the carelessly - fastened door, and seized the pre- cious purse. In another minute I was safely in the street again. Casting a hasty glance around I drew off my disguise and returned the articles carefully to my pocket. Next I wiped my face and composed myself, and, with my booty lying over my heart, returned to my seat in the concert-room. It seemed to me that I had been absent for hours, but in reality I had only been a bare quarter of an hour, and in response to my wife’s whispered question I said that I had felt the air of the room insufferably close, but was better now. The moment for the presentation was fast arriving, and I sat trying to nerve myself to listen with proper emotion, and no more, to the inevitable announcement that there was nothing to present.. At last there came the gap in the programme arranged for the occasion, and some member of the committee, during an enthusiastic speech of welcome, went to the ante- chamber for the purpose of bringing forward the purse and testimonial on its accompanying salver. After a prolonged wait several gentlemen were summoned inside, and then someone came breathlessly forward with the dreadful announce- ment that the purse of money had been stolen ! The window had been found partially open and the safe rifled, but the thief had got clear away without leaving a trace behind him. Horror and consternation seized the as- sembly, and wild indigna- tion was ex- pressed on every side, in “1 PULLED OPEN THE CARELESSLY-FASTENED DOOR AND SEIZED THE PRECIOUS PUKSE.” which, of course, I took my part. At last, however, the hubbub somewhat subsided, and the now almost valueless address having been presented—with expressions of goodwill

Page 151

142 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “SOMEONE CAME BREATHLESSLY FORWARD WITH THE DREADFUL ANNOUNCEMENT ‘THAT THE PURSE OF MONEY HAD BEEN STOLEN!" ‘and sympathy the meeting dispersed, and everyone returned home to discuss the probability of the daring author of that night’s fiasco being speedily caught. The matter was placed in the hands of a capable detective, but the mystery remains a mystery to this day. About a month afterwards I allowed it to become known that I “had been left a small legacy, and then entered into business for myself. Everything has prospered with me since. My wife and children are healthy and happy, and I myself am regarded, I believe, with respect and affection by my fellow-townsmen. I have given many a donation to the Rev. Y——, and I do not think that he has ever been much the worse for the loss of the financial part of his testi- ~ monial. I now wish to redeem the promise I made to myself by giving you the hundred pounds which I “borrowed.” But my con- science, father, has never once reproached me for that night’s work, and I can safely say that I laid the foundations of my fortunes with the pro- ceeds of my first and last burglary. “There was silence for a few moments after Mr. S—— had finished his recital,” said Father Raymond, “during which we both smoked steadily and gazed into the glowing fire. Then —moved by an unaccountable impulse——I arose and extended my hand. ‘Thank you for your confidence, Mr. S——,’ I said; ‘and be assured it shall be respected. As for this money, it shall be used exactly in the way you have indicated. The rest I must leave between yourself and your Maker. If at any time your views on the matter should change, I shall be happy to know.’ “ After a few more words we parted cordially, and, although we may never meet again in this life, the memory of that evening will remain with me always.”

Page 152

* sort. An amusing story of American newspaper life. RPALING Ee SECRET A great trade union was holding a secret meeting to decide the momentous question of ‘strike or no strike,” and the author's paper badly wanted to report the proceedings. finally able, by a lucky chance, to Me’M sure I don’t know how many fj times I have deserved to wear them, but only once have I had handcuffs snapped upon my wrists in real earnest. It might be thought that I experienced cold chills along my back- bone when I felt the steel shackles snap to; that visions of iron bars and cold stone cells rose before my eyes, and that my knees wobbled. Not a bit of it. I told*the policeman that he was making an ass of himself, and that, too, although I knew I was caught red-handed at housebreaking. In point of fact, the only difference between me and an ordinary burglar was that the burglar desires goods and chattels, while 1 desired a secret. This might not have served to clear me in the eyes of an English judge, but I was not in England. Moreover, I knew right well that the matter would never reach such a high authority as a judge of any A sergeant at police head-quarters was as high as I looked to reach, and I looked aright. At the time I refer to I was “holding down” the position of “criminal” on the Detroit Tribune. 1 have already told in THE WIDE Woritp Macazine* what sort of a position the “criminal” held; how he was a_ reporter * Sce “ Showing Him Round,” in uur is.ue for April, 1q6.—Ep. Mr. Barr shows how, after many adventures, he was obtain the coveted information. responsible to his newspaper for a full and vivid account of all crime, fires, and accidents that happened in and about the city. Particularly would I impress upon the reader that the “how” of coming by the news was never a subject of investigation so long as the “criminal” gof the news. Success in this direction covered every sin, excepting, possibly, murder. I never tried murder. Any trouble the “criminal” got into was quickly blotted out of existence by his paper. My present attitude “towards the position of “criminal” is that of the repentant sinner. I would not accept the job for love or money—not from any fear of consequences, but from a regard for the proprieties. However, at the time of which I write I was licensed marauder for the Detrort Tribune. The middle-west of America had fallen into a flurry of industrial strife. Chicago, in particular, was ablaze with class war of the wicked kind that was waged in “the States” when the in- telligent but hot-headed workmen and the keen-brained, rapacious captains of industry came into conflict. It was Pinkerton and the Winchester on one side, the firebrand and the crowbar on the other. The orderly, persistent, inflexible, silent strain of a British industrial combat was unknown in America, or, if known,

Page 153

144 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. was not believed in, and violence and destruc- tion began with the initial stage of a lock-out or strike. Chicago had broken wildly loose ; other cities, Detroit among them, were seething with dissatisfaction and unrest. Everyone—employer and employé—was on tenterhooks; one could feel the electricity in the air. One day, just about this time, it was announced that Mr. Powderley, head of that great organiza- tion the “Knights of Labour,” had called a meeting in Detroit at which he himself, or some important lieutenant nominated by him, would deliver the message which everyone recognised meant peace or war. If Powderley said “Strike” paralysis would fall upon the city; perhaps the faggot and firearm would be seen in the streets. The anxiety with which the decision of the workers was awaited can be but poorly appreciated by anyone who was not in Detroit at the time. This meeting was announced as private. Now, in England it is only necessary to call a mecting private, and as a rule it zs private, so THE BIDDLE HOUSE, WHERE THE “ here, Jimmie ; it strikes me that by looks and nature you’re the nearest approach to a burglar T have on my staff.” “Thank you kindly,” I answered, meekly. “Some might think that a left-handed com- pliment.” “T’m not here to pay compliments,” returned my chief; “I’m here as a judge of character. You are the man I want. We must publish an account of that Knights of Labour meeting, and, as it is to be held in strict secrecy, what we need is not so much a reporter as a burglar. You're the man!” “T can only again repeat my thanks,” I said. “Where is the State prison of Michigan? I'll go there at once and save trouble.” “Wait a moment,” replied Harris ; “that will come all in good time. Now, to tell the truth, I do not consider you a really first-class burglar, but you'll make a good second to a first-class burglar. I have engaged such a one for you to assist; he will be here to-morrow. In the meantime find out where this meeting of the } KNIGHTS OF LABOUR" HELD THEIR MEETING. From a Photo. far as the newspapers are concerned. The exact opposite is the case’ in America. To the reporter the word “ private” a bull. upon the inside of the door marked “ Private,” and if one desires that it shall be private it behoves him to make it so. To say so is but to invite publicity. The day the meeting was announced, Mr. Harris, editor of the Zrbune, called me into his room. “See here, Jimmie,” he said—he always called me “ Jimmie,” in spite of the fact that I thought no small potatoes of myself—‘“ See is like a red rag to ~ Instantly his keen attention is fixed: workmen is to be held, secure all the informa- tion you can about the room and its surround- ings, and be prepared to pilot my man and furnish the local knowledge. He comes from New York to do this job.” “Who got him out of Sing Sing?” I asked, but Mr. Harris dismissed me without an answer. Then I set to work laying the founda- tions of a scheme by which we hoped to rob the Knights of Labour sphinx of her secret. At the very first step I ran up against one of Detroit’s great standing jokes. The standing joke was a mammoth hotel. At that time there were two streets in the city of

Page 154

STEALING commanding prominence—Jefferson and Wood- ward Avenues. ‘These cut each other at right angles, and I think Jefferson Avenue, which ran parallel with the river, had rather the better of the rivalry. Unfortunately for the future of this splendid thoroughfare, it ran in front of the biggest hotel in Detroit, the Biddle House. Now a first-class hotel is usually a splendid acquisition for a street, but, as will be seen, it all depends upon who owns that hotel. The Biddle House was the property of a very quaint character, who, during his long life, added much to the gaiety of that part of America. He was eccentric, and, knowing right well that it is dangerous to be eccentric unless one has the money to see the thing through, Mr. Luther Beecher gathered together a vast fortune and then became eccentric. Apparently he took offence at his neighbours in Jefferson Avenue, and as a result he suddenly closed that hotel. At first Detroit thought the joke was on himself, but Mr. Beecher bided his time. ‘That great, lonely, silent hotel, with grimy windows staring blindly across the broad avenue, soon struck a chill into the surrounding neighbourhood. Businesses moved from its dreary vicinity and hastened up the rival avenue, so that, from one of the very choicest spots in the city, the region round about the deserted Biddle House became moribund. Neighbouring landowners fumed, and the newspapers alternately protested and poked fun, but Mr. Beecher sat tight and enjoyed his joke. Once in a great while the hotel would be thrown open for a spasmodic activity—only, however, to close again shortly and leave those rows of mute, staring windows. At the time of the labour agitation the hotel happened to be open. As I have said, it was an immense building, covering a whole block, and in the very centre of it, as was the custom in those days, was a small theatre. This theatre the Knights of Labour had taken for the purpose of their gathering. No better place could have been chosen, for it had no windows, depending entirely on artificial light, and when the “Knights” were finished with the place there was but one door by which the theatre could be entered or quitted. At the appointed time the man from New York arrived. He proved to be a journalist who had made a speciality of the gentle art of breaking into places, being especially successful with secret meetings of the kind which con- fronted us. His outlook on life was humorous ; he took matters as they came with great good nature, and the two of us got on famously. Unfortunately he was far from well, and I think that accounted for his failure on this occasion. I explained the situation to the New Yorker— Vol. xviii, —19. A SECRET. 145 whom I will call Foster, not having his permis- sion to use his real name—and he came to the conclusion that, considering the size of the building, it would be necessary for him to be inside the theatre, secreted somewhere close to the stage from which Mr. Powderley’s represen- tative would speak. I walked with him to the corner of Woodward and Jefferson Avenues, and after pointing out the Biddle House returned to the office, for I was well known to the “ Knights,” and if seen in a stranger’s company suspicion would be cast upon him. Meanwhile, Foster coolly walked into the hotel, and without hesita- tion entered the theatre as though he were someone interested in seeing that all was made comfortable for the coming gathering of delegates. No one questioned him, and he made the round of the place, examining every nook and corner, at length mounting the stage and passing behind the curtain. He found from what was going on that Mr. Powderley’s representative would address the meeting from the immediate front of the stage. In order to conserve his voice the curtain would not be raised, thus shutting out the large space required for the stage. Foster decided that he could easily secrete himself high up in the flies immediately behind the curtain, provided that he could get into the hiding-place in time. Although the meeting would not begin till seven o'clock in the evening he resolved to take up his position at noon. I saw him enter the hotel for that purpose, and, after hanging round for an hour, I knew that our sweet little cherub was safely up aloft to look after that all important secret. Then I returned to report ‘“ All well” to the editor. As soon as the delegates began to assemble I kept myself well in evidence, to let the managers of the meeting know that, so far as the reporter of the Zrzbune was concerned, he stood on the right side of the door. During the gathering I felt anxious for the success of Foster’s scheme, as the delegates, before being called to order, were sure to “nose” about the strange theatre, and it might be that someone would blunder upon traces of the New Yorker. At length I thought all danger past, for the chairman entered accompanied by the principal speaker, and I knew business would start without delay. Half-way along the hall leading from the entrance of the hotel to the entrance of the theatre was a pair of swinging doors. Here stood a doorkeeper, who carefully scrutinized the credentials carried by each delegate. These proving satisfactory, he led the delegate to the doors admitting to the theatre, where stood two more scrutineers. If these were also satisfied as to the genuineness of the credentials the

Page 155

146 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. applicant was allowed to enter the hall. For that night there was no other entrance to or exit from the theatre. I stood outside the first set of doors apparently noting the arrival of the delegates, but really thinking only of Foster in his eyrie behind the heavy curtain. Suddenly there arose a mighty howl from inside the theatre—the savage cry of many men; a huge sound of exultation, hatred, and derision. It required no great perspicacity to divine that something of more than ordinary dramatic interest had occurred, and my guilty conscience : “POS tRI ALPRAKED, BRING RUSHED ALONG BY HALF-A-DOZEN BRAWNY, FRANTIC MEN,” Segoe ane nme nee cape eee supplied me with the correct explanation. I knew how high feeling ran just then; how strung were everyone’s nerves, and with what suspicion the newspapers, supposed to sym- pathize only with the capitalists, were looked upon, and I feared that their passion might lead the delegates to seriously injure Foster if they had discovered him. But had they? After the first howl comparative silence reigned ; then I heard a scurry of feet in the inner hall, and the next instant the outer doors flew open and Foster appeared, with head bare and minus his boots, being rushed along by half-a-dozen brawny, frantic men. On they thundered down the hall, and when the front door was reached they shot him far out into the night. As I tushed to lend him a helping hand his boots came flying out after him, one of them hitting him in the small of the back. He was on his feet like a flash, and stood gazing down upon that peculiar missile. “This is an occasion where old boots do nof bring good luck, Foster,” I said, weakly. “I don’t know so much about that ; I guess I am lucky to get back my boots,” he answered, grinning. Amid the derision of delegates and passers-by my colleague slip- ped on his boots, and the two of us made off for a place where we could talk matters over. “What happened?” I asked. “A little oversight on my part,” he answered, dejectedly. “I got into my nest quite easily,’ and passed a comfortable enough time of it, although workmen and dele- gates were constantly on and about the stage. The mistake I made was in regard to the dis- posal of my boots, I was bound to mount to my perch without them, and, instead of taking them aloft with me, I did them up in a bit of old canvas and hid them behind a heap of scenery. I heard the meeting called to order, and then someone from the body of the hall suggested that the cur- tain should be raised to make sure no one had got behind who was not entitled to be in the place. Accordingly they raised

Page 156

STEALING A SECRET. 147 the curtain and had almost satisfied themselves that all was well, when one fellgw, more thorough than his comrades, fished out the bundle con- taining my boots. ‘That was enough. Up they swarmed and soon had me by the heels. Caring nothing for my bones, they tumbled me down on to the stage, bounced me across the proscenium, dumped me into the parquet, banged me through the doors, and heaved me out. And here I am.” When discussing a plan of campaign with Mr. Harris I proposed breaking into the base- ment of the hotel and making my way to some position below the theatre. Here, if the floor proved too thick for hearing the speakers, I could bore a hole with a brace and bit, which — instru- ment I had provided myself with. It was decided that this plan should be used as a last resource, and now that Foster had been thrown out the time had arrived when it must be tried. _The Biddle House ‘is built on two levels. From Jeffer- son Avenue the ground slopes acutely towards the river, the back of the hotel facing an unfrequented street, being at least a storey deeper than the front. Skirting this back street large archways of stonemasonry — sup- ported the hotel, these being filled in with heavy, pad- locked doors, some of which had fan- lights of heavy panes of glass. I had ascertained that this basement was not made use of, being nothing more than a great wilderness of sawdust, boards, boxes, and such miscellaneous odds and ends as builders sometimes leave among the foundations of a house. This was our point of attack. Down to the back street the two of us hastened, ‘“ HE DISAPPEARED HEAD FIRST THROUGH THE WINDOW-FRAME.” and, first making quite sure that no one was watching, Foster placed his back against a door and locked the fingers of his hands together, thus making a step for me. Quickly I mounted to his shoulders and, using half a brick, struck a pane of glass fairly in the centre, causing cracks to radiate to the fraine like spokes to a tyre. With my gloved hand I plucked out the pieces and threw them one by one into the base- ment, where they fell upon the rubbish without undue noise. This done, I leaped to the pave- ment, as Foster, being rather weak, required my assistance to reach the opening. Misfortune continued to dog him. I had carelessly left a little pyramid of glass in the hard putty, and when I hoisted Foster up and he shoved his leg into the opening, this tore its way through his trousers and cut deep into his leg. He gave a sudden jerk backward, and I, not understand- ing what was wrong, but fearing he would fall to the pavement, gave him one mighty upward shove. Uttering a howl that should have dis- covered us to the community, he dis- appeared head first through the window- frame, and I heard him come to the ground inside, utter- ing words he must have picked up in _ the Bowery. Fear of discovery lent me all the assistance I required, and in an instant I stood beside him. To- gether we groped our way among the foundations until assured that a light could not be seen by any chance passer-by ; then Foster drew forth our one box of matches to examine his damaged leg. No doubt it reads a very foolish thing for us to have dived among the foundations of a mammoth hotel unprovided with a lantern. A fear and a Hope caused us to do so—fear

Page 157

148 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. was that if we delayed for even a little while the meeting would be over; hope, that we could quickly find our way to a spot underneath the theatre, guided by the shuflle of many feet. Fear and hope each proved erroneous. The real business of the meeting did not come on for an hour after we entered that wilderness. As for finding our way, in five minutes we were as hopelessly lost as “ tenderfeet ” on the plains. Oh, those foundations! They beat the most bewildering maze I ever heard of. Walls ran to every point of the compass ; there were squares and pillars, angles and curves of solid stone- masonry poising that hotel on their heads. We stumbled this way and sprawled that, bruising shins and grazing elbows, occasionally striking a pine match, more for the purpose of catching a glimpse of each other’s faces than with any hope of finding our way. Not a sound came to us from above ; no glimpse of light greeted our eyes. We might as well have been in the Parisian catacombs for all the use to our paper we were likely to be. A horribly oppressive smell arose from the ground; we seemed to be breathing tinned air. We felt stifled and broke into heavy perspiration. Where we were and how to get out we had not the remotest notion. Ere long these conditions began to affect Foster. All along I had known that he was ill and should not have been out of his bed, but now he began to grow delirious, shouting at imagi- nary people and laughing and singing. I tried to restrain him at first, but at length I recog- nised that the sooner we were discovered and relieved of our impossible task the better. Still singing and shouting, Foster trudged ahead, paying no attention to the bumps and bruises he received. Suddenly I heard his feet sink into something soft, followed by an exclamation of astonished mirth. Like a flash there came to my mind the thought of a well or pit. “ Vor Heaven's sake stand still!” I shouted. “Don’t take another step or you may fall into a well. Hold hard till I strike a match.” When the little light flared out there stood my comrade in a pit of mortar. Repairs to the foundations were under way and the masons had left a great pile of thin mortar. Into this Foster had blundered, standing now up to his knees in the sticky mess. It was the roar of mirth and consternation he gave vent to, we found out later, that reached the ears of the hotel police and led to our discovery. Foster stood like a wicket-keeper, legs bent and hands upon his knees, laughing at his plight. This time I joined in his mirth. Presently he splashed out and, feeling weak, seated himself on a box which the matchlight had revealed. Suddenly laying hold of my arm, he whispered, excitedly, “ What’s that?” “What's what?” 1 asked, fearing he was beginning to see things that had no existence. “T thought I saw a light,” he said. 1 felt creepy. “There, I saw it again!” he gasped. The next instant I, too, saw a flash of light, like a white bat flapping its wings far away among the labyrinth of foundations. It was gone before I could make up my mind whether or not it was really light. We held our breaths. Yes, there flew the thing again, this time not so very far from us. If I had been capable of giving the matter a sound thought I should have shouted to attract attention, for we were bound to be found sooner or later, but something com- pelled each of us to attempt secrecy. “Stand up,” I whispered to Foster, ‘and put your hands above your head so that they will not shoot if they see us. Don’t utter a sound.” We both stbod against the masonry, our hands held high. Suddenly two hotel police- men came cautiously round a corner but a trifling distance from us, and the light froma bull's-eye carried by one of them fell full upon us. Although they were looking for someone, they evidently did not expect to find anyone, for at sight of us they both sprang wildly behind the nearest wall, the fellow unencumbered by the lantern exploding a revolver in his fright. I do not think he meant to shoot, and I feel sure he took no aim, but all the same that shot made my hair stand on end. “Don’t shoot—we’re reporters!” I cried. “We've got lost trying to find our way into the Knights of Labour meeting. Our hands are up.” The policemen were quite as frightened as we were, but presently they cautiously emerged from their retreat, one holding the bull’s-eye so that its light covered us, and the other manceu- vring so that his two revolvers did the same. “One of you come forward,” he growled ; “but if you drop your hands I'll let daylight through you quicker than winkin’.” I did as he commanded. He ran his hands over me, feeling for a revolver, but found none. Then he invited Foster to step forward, repeat- ing the search and again finding nothing. Next I presented my card, but it was “no go.” He must take me to the police-station, he said. I told him that would needlessly trouble him. He need but take us to the street ; for to think that the sergeant at head-quarters would lock up two innocent newspaper men who had lost their way in the basement of an hotel was prepos- terous. He did not agree, but nevertheless he quickly found that I told the truth, Ten minutes after quitting the hotel we had finished

Page 158

STEALING A SECRET. 149 “ONE OF YOU COME FORWARD, HE GROWLED, ‘BUT iF YOU DROP YOUR HANUS I'LL LET DAYLIGHT THROUGH YOU." our interview with the sergeant, and I was seeing Foster off in a cab to his hotel. Fifteen minutes later I was quietly seated in that theatre listening to Mr. Powderley’s representative laying down the law and advocating no strike. How did I manage to get in? By bland guile, bolstered up by a huge lump of luck! Every- thing is fair in love, war, and news-gathering. Foster off for his bed, I made my way back to the Biddle House with little or no expecta- tion of accomplishing anything, except, maybe, gaining a “pointer” from some unwary dele- gate. Walking frankly up to the Cerberus who guarded the outer doors, I a — “T want to go in.’ “Are you a delegate ?” he ‘a. “TI am a newspaper man. I want to report this meeting.” He grinned ‘genially. “There are a lot of you in the same fix to-night. You know very well that you will not be admitted.” “Nothing will induce you to let me pass?” “ Nothing,” he answered, decisively. “ Very well,” I said. ‘ Now we know where we stand. JI tell you frankly that I am going to try to pass you.” “Oh! you are entitled to try all you please, but it will end in a try.” “T fear so,” I admitted, truthfully. Just then a delegate arrived. After his cre- dentials had been scrutinized he was led by Cerberus along the hall towards the inner doors, whose guardians had taken up their position inside the theatre, no doubt so that they might hear what was going on. I followed the dele- gate, but after taking three or four steps Cerberus turned and asked me to go back. Without protest or hesitation I did as I was bid. When Cerberus returned to his post I said :— “Tf I fail to report this meeting there is trouble in store (for me.. My. editor will investi-

Page 159

150 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. gate as to whether I used all means of effecting an entrance. Now, I intend to pester you for fifteen minutes by following you in each time you lead a delegate. Please do not let that annoy you, but if you are asked to-morrow whether you noticed me attending to my duties I trust you will say that I was persistent to a degree.” “Oh, certainly,” he replied, obligingly. “I will tell the truth.” “Thank you. I will follow you until ordered back. You understand ?” “Tf you think it worth while, you are welcome to tramp to and fro all night,” he said, grinning. Ttramped. Each time he asked me to turn I did so promptly and _ plea- santly, until he began to take no further trouble than to nod his order over his shoulder. Why I tramped was this: in my very first promenade I had “spotted” an opportunity. A nar- row stairway twisted from the hall, near the inner doors, to the gallery of the theatre. This I ex- pected to find barri- caded—but no! My hopes bounded high when I beheld it auiks unguarded. Up these stairs I would go, if I could possibly work the trick. “This begins to pall upon me,” I said, when I considered the time ripe. “Its about time I had a rest. I'll follow you once or twice more, but we may as well shake ‘Good-bye’ now. You'll report favourably of me?” “Oh, yes,” he said. ‘You have persevered with your march all right.’ Soon there entered another belated delegate. From a) THE CENTRAL POLICE-STATION, DETROIT, WHERE THE AUTHOR WAS TAKEN APTER HIS ARREST. (Photo. I followed close, getting well along the hall, but yet not quite so far as 1 wished, and then got the order to turn. Cerberus nodded—nodded in two senses of the word this time—and whirl- ing on my heels I cried “(Good-night.” But instead of going forward I took two quiet steps rearward, these bringing me opposite the foot of the stairs. I could not tell whether Cerberus was witnessing my manceuvre, but I chanced it. Nimbly and quietly as a cat I tip-toed up those steps and slid into the nearest seat, leaning my elbow on the rail before me, and covering enough of my face with my hands to make identification _ diffi- cult. Most fortu- nately for me there were a certain number of people seated in the gal- lery. ‘There, with dozens of men in the body of the house who knew me, I sat listening to the stirring address delivered by Mr. Powderley’s representative. Be- fore ten minutes had passed I re- alized which way the decision of the “Knights” was going, and knew that, providing I could get out of the meeting all safe and sound, the Zribune would be able to publish a true account of the proceedings. Escape from the meeting proved easy enough, and next day my paper published two columns of the important speech. Other reporters, not meeting with the same good fortune as favoured me, failed to provide their papers with the news, and the Zyzbune enjoyed a “scoop.” So, where elaborate subterfuge and house- breaking had failed, bland guile prevailed.

Page 160

MY MOTOR-TRIP TO CONSTANTINOPLE. ~ By Ropert I. JEFFERSON, F.R.G.S., Author of “ Across Siberia on a Bicycle,” ‘A New Ride to Khiva,” etc., ete. This esclusivelyewritten narrative of Mr. Jefferson's novel and adventurous motor-journey across the Balkans, throug’ Servia, Bulgaria, and Turkey, to Constantinople, will be of great interest to our readers, many of whom will remember the author's daring cycle ride to Khiva, described in these pages a few years ago. Mr. Jefferson was the first man to drive an automobile in Turkey, motoring being strictly prohibited in the Ottoman Empire. It was only when His Majesty the Sultan granted a special Imperial irade that the author was allowed to cross the frontier on his car and successfully complete his record trip. OME time last autumn I approached Sir Nicholas O’Conor, the British Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, to intercede for me with the Turkish authorities in order to obtain per- mission to enter European Turkey on a motor- car, motoring in the land of the Faithful being then, as it still is, strictly prohibited. I had projected an automobile journey across Europe from England to the Bosphorus, following pretty closely the track which I had traversed on my bicycle ride in the year 1894. I learned that my car would be allowed in the countries of Servia and Bulgaria, but the various diplomatic and consular officials in those countries with whom I had been in communi- cation informed me that I might expect a very rough time when cross- ing the Balkans. My prime objective, however, was to get per- mission from Turkey. In that country, where so many things are pro- hibited, and where no man dare import a dynamo because the Ottoman authorities believe it has something to do with dynamite, it was, to say the least of it, somewhat ambitious to expect a hearty wel- come for that “devil’s equipage”—the up-to- date motor-car. Therefore I was not altogether surprised, although I was considerably chagrined, when I received from Sir Nicholas O’Conor a laconic intimation that the request having been duly made to the Sublime Porte the officials had refused me permission to enter the country, (EX 1. bee THE AUTHOR, MR. R. L. JEFFERSON, F.R.G.S From a Photo. and consequently I must alter my route accordingly. Nothing more, apparently, could be done, so I abandoned the project. A few weeks later, however, I received another message from the Embassy, stating that the desired permission had, after all, been obtained, and that an Imperial irade authorizing me to pass the frontier at Mustapha Pasha and proceed vid Adrianople to Constantinople had been pro- mulgated and communi- cated to the Ministry of the Interior, while the Valis of Adrianople and Tchataldja had been in- structed of my proposed advent. The preparations for this somewhat ambitious motor journey were at once resumed and speedily concluded. Of course, for a trip em- bracing a portion of Europe where motor- cars had not only never been seen but per- haps seldom heard of, and where any break- downs would have to be looked after by myself and my chauffeur, it was necessary that special precautions should be taken. I selected for the journey a light car, but with ample accommoda- tion for a large number of spare parts and for luggage. The greatest difficulty which I anti- cipated was not in connection with bad roads ora resentful populace, but on account of the petrol spirit which formed the motive power of my engine. Careful inquiries elicited the fact that it was impossible to obtain petrol in suffi- cient quantities in Servia or Bulgaria, while in Turkey itself it.was practically unknown,

Page 161

152 THE WIDE WORLD This meant that I should have to make such preparations in England as would ensure me a requisite supply while ex route. To this end I approached a large firm of petrol distillers, who guaranteed that they would see that a regular supply was afforded me from start to finish of the journey. Alas! had I known how sadly they were out in their calculations I would never have set out so light-heartedly as I did in order to be the first man to motor across the Balkan peninsula to the gates of the East. I had with me as companion a young engineer, well versed in motor mechanics, whose duties were to consist solely of keeping the car in good running order and repairing any break- downs which might occur. ‘Then at length, all our preparations completed, a definite start was made from the city of Coventry. An uneventful drive across England brought us to Harwich, whence we crossed to the Dutch side. Thence we journeyed through Holland by way of Rotterdam, Utrecht, and Arnheim until the German frontier was reached at Enschede. Germany was traversed by way of Miinster, Bielefeld, Leipzig, and Dresden, soon after which we crossed the Austrian frontier into Bohemia and passed through Prague, to arrive eventually at Vienna. Here I found that my difficulties in regard to the petrol became serious. The English company had failed me miserably, and beyond MAGAZINE. this point there was no possibility of getting petrol unless I carried it on the car, or had it sent in advance. To carry it on the car was an utter im- possibility, as I should require an enormous amount in order to cover the distance between this point and Constantinople. The only possible way out of the difficulty was to send a good supply to the last town in Hungary— Semlin, on the banks of the Danube. Nobody could guarantee to get it into either Servia, Bulgaria, or Turkey, and’ so from Semlin onward I should be compelled to carry it all on the car. Our petrol arrangements made, we headed once more to the south-east. Through Press- burg to Budapest, and, afterwards, down the long and dreary valley of the Danube, the car jogged on, with no untoward incident to mar its progress ; then through Mohacs and Darda, until Eszek, the capital town of Slavonia, was reached. Across the marshy and desert-like land of Slavonia our progress was slow and tedious, but at length .the church spires of Semlin announced that the drive across the Occident had ended, and the gates of the Orient were before us. At the Grand Hotel in Semlin I learned with joy that the petrol which had been consigned to me from Vienna had arrived. ‘The proprietor of the hostelry put his best services at my disposal, but he painted a gloomy picture of the diffi- 2 culties I should have in getting my motor-car across the Danube into Servia. Nor was he wrong, for when I made inquiries as to how I could proceed, I found that the only means of communication across the broad confluence of the Save and the Danube rivers at this point are the little ferry-boat which plies between Semlin and Bel- grade and the bridge of the Oriental Railway. The railway people flatly re- fused to have anything to do with me. They might, they said, take the car over in about a week’s time, but as for the petrol they refused to have anything at all to do with it, calmly intimating thatsuch deadly stuff could only be carried by. the dynamite train,

Page 162

MY MOTOR-TRIP TO CONSTANTINOPLE. 153 which passed from Vienna to Sofia, in Bulgaria, about once a month. The ferry-boat was also out of the question, as it was too small to accommodate the car. I was almost in despair, when an excecdingly affable but extremely shabby Slavonian, who rejoiced in the name of Popovitch, volunteered his services and promised to get me through all my difficulties. The best thing I could do, said he, would be to take the ferry-boat to Belgrade, interview Mr. Thesiger, the British Vice- Consul to Servia, and find out if he could help me. Secondly, as the steamer was not big enough to take the motor- car, and the railway com- pany refused to have any- thing to do with it, the next best thing would be to hire a flat-bottomed barge and have the whole concern —car, petrol, and ourselves—ferried across. I therefore crossed to Belgrade the next day and saw Mr. Thesiger, but found that he could do very little for me. Since the brutal murder : of King Alexander and Queen Draga the English had not been popular in Servia, inas- much as the English Court refused to recognise the present Servian monarch, and until quite recently no diplomatic relations were main- tained. Mr. Thesiger confessed himself almost powerless, and could only promise to interview the Minister of the Interior and other high officials in order to obtain the requisite per- mission to get the car into the country. There was nothing for it, then, but to take the bull by the horns, get the car across to the Servian side, and there await developments. Passports for the first time now became necessary. The visés were taken on the Hungarian side, and, once these formalities had been disposed of, a boat was chartered —a tremendous affair, costing an enormous price. The car and the petrol were then shipped, and my engineer and myself boarded her, while Herr Popovitch came to see us through our trouble. It was a miserable and tedious journey across the four miles of water separating the West from the East. Rain fell. in torrents ; the water was lashed by the wind into almost oceanic waves ; and on several occasions, when endeavouring to Vol. xviii.—20. MR, JEFFERSON’: S CAR CR From a Photo. OSSING THE DANUBE. hug the bank closely and avoid the fury of the gale, the expedition threatened to be summarily wrecked by the crazy boat turning turtle. It was late in the afternoon when we grounded on Servian soil near the log hut designated by the proud name of “ Servian Customs-house.” Half- a-dozen soldiers pounced upon us almost before the boat touched bottom. A long and at times almost furious conversation then took place between Herr Popovitch and these truculent- looking emissaries of King Peter. As it was all in Servian, I could not un- derstand a word, but Herr Popovitch intimated to me that nothing would be allowed to be landed until proper permission had been obtained. There- fore, I must perforce go again to my Consul and obtain that permission. If it was not forthcom- ing in an hour or two the boat would have to put back to Hungary. Mr. Thesiger certainly did his best. With the Consulate interpreter we raided the offices of the Minister of the Interior, the Minister of Finance, the head Customs officials, and the Minister of Police, while my poor engineer, guarding the car and the precious petrol, rocked on the bosom of the Save and wondered what next was going to happen. The great difficulty, it appeared, was with regard to the petrol, which was now beginning to get on my nerves. Petrol, I learned, was a Government monopoly, and was not allowed in the country until tests had been made as to its density and quality. If I desired to bring it in it would have to be given over to the Govern- ment laboratory for analysis, and this analysis might take any time up to a month to accom- plish. As for the motor-car, a heavy duty would have to be paid upon it. The idea of leaving the petrol in the hands of the Government for a month was not to be entertained for a moment, and so determined were the arguments of Mr. Thesiger and myself that at last the officials gave way, and with any- thing but a good grace granted the permission so vitally needed. Most ludicrous of alt was the statement which appeared in a Belgrade newspaper the following day to the effect that the Government had waived its rights in the casé and had allowed me to enter

Page 163

154 Servia with a motor-car—“ the Servian Govern- ment having no desire to be on unfriendly terms with England !” Belgrade is not a nice place to stay in. It has, if anything, deteriorated since I visited it in 1894. The streets are badly paved, the houses are mean, while the people are untidy and frowzy. Of course, the motor-car created a tremendous sensation as it was being driven through the streets. ‘All sorts and conditions of people tumbled out of their shops to gaze upon the strange vehicle, while a babel of excited voices filled the air. It was at Belgrade that final preparations had to be made for the journey across the Balkan peninsula. Our spare parts were carefully looked over, and extensive calculations were made as to how long our supplies of petrol and oil would last. Judge, then, of my consternation to find that it was absolutely impossible to carry the whole supply of petrol with us. Not only was there not sufficient room, but the engine power at my command was not sufficient to propel such a tremendous weight. Once more I had to seek the assistance of Herr Popovitch, and again he came gallantly to the rescue. He found a swarthy Servian who could perform almost any duty assigned him. This brigandish- looking individual carried on the business of forwarding agent, in addition to being an official at the Customs-house. With many a knowing wink and shake of a flabby forefinger he inti- mated that he could get the better of any railway company in the world. He knew how to get the half of my petrol to Sofia in three days’ time. “Of course it will cost a considerable amount of money ”—this with a sorrowful shake of the head —“but at the same time the Gospodin, being an Englishman, would not mind a little extra ex- pense so long as the job could be completed _satis- factorily.” I was forced to accept his offer, but it was not without consider- WZ g V; ‘THE MOTOR CAUSESA BAD SMASH: g THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. able misgiving that I handed over to him six of the huge cans containing the petrol, hoping, but almost against hope, that when I reached the half-way stage—the capital of Bulgaria—I should find them awaiting me. A tremendous crowd gathered before the Grand Hotel de Paris on the morning when we set off for Semendria. Mr. Thesiger and the Belgian Minister were there to wish me good luck, and to hope that the Balkans would not prove too much for the sturdy little car. So great was the throng that it was almost impos- sible to get through. The shouts of hilarity, the derisive cheers and the shrieks of amazement which went up as we slowly wound our way through the narrow streets were something to be remembered for a lifetime, but eventually Belgrade was left behind, and the most horrible road of the expedition, so far, was encountered. Huge holes and great stones blocked the way at almost every yard, and it required the greatest care to prevent the wheels being smashed over and over again. In addition to this, the appear- ance of the car created the utmost excitement amongst the cattle we encountered. Horses bolted madly, and on the short stretch to Semendria no fewer than three huge carts were smashed almost to atoms by the frantic efforts of their horses to get out of the way of the extraordinary monster creeping along the road. I foresaw possibilities of our being lynched by irate drivers if this sort of thing was going to continue. Night had come down and a drizzling rain was fall- = LATS) ing when the car , A bumped slowly into the little town of Se- mendria. The drive over this first stretch of Balkan roads, short though it was, had been a severe strain, and I must confess I began to fear for the future, unless the going im- proved consider- ably. , We found fairly comfort- able quarters in the inn, to which we were piloted by a huge and interested crowd. The car safely stabled and our- selves groomed LENS WEENS EE from a) uP. (Photo.

Page 164

MY MOTOR-TRIP as well as the limited facilities would allow, dinner was partaken of amid a strange mixture of Servian provincial society. The large common room of the inn was filled with a heterogeneous mob of people. In one corner a picturesquely-attired orchestra wailed out that melancholy music characteristic of the Balkans. Peasants in their brown and white costumes, with sandalled feet and huge headgear, ate almost cheek by jowl with some more pros- perous native attired in Western costume. Table manners amount to very little among these people. There is a perfect babel of con- versation, the band shrieks and groans and wails, and amid the din the waiters hurry hither and thither. Some aggressive-looking Servian, with a waistbelt full of pistols and knives, will swagger ceremoniously up and down the room. Officers of the local garrison form a group at another table, their smart uniforms a strange contrast to the medley of the others. Anon they become uproariously intoxicated, and sing national songs to the music of the orchestra, while mine host, seated on a raised chair at the end of the room, beams affably upon his guests. Our car was soon ready next morning, and we stole a march upon the Semen- TO CONSTANTINOPLE. 155 drian population by clearing out without warn- ing. A fairly good road took us to Batoto- china, and, having projected Jagodina for a midday halt for lunch, we reached it in good time. No sooner, however, had we arrived than from near and far came men, women, and children. Luncheon over, to get 1-ar the car was almost an impossibility. My best German was wasted upon these excited Servians, whose curiosity went so far that not one item of the car was left without careful inspection. Blank amazement was depicted upon their faces, and when Robert, my engineer, suggested in despair that the best thing to do in order to escape would be to charge the crowd and bowl a few over I was almost inclined to agree with him. It was in the middle of this frightful hubbub that a strange thing happened. Pushing his way through the crowd came an elderly man, whose long grey beard fell on his breast. He doffed his hat, bowed ceretnoniously, and then, to my utter surprise, spoke to me in_ excellent English. “Gentlemen,” said he, “I speak English! I am desired by the Lord Mayor of Jagodina to welcome you here, and to ask if there is any- thing we can do to help you?” My memory flashed back to my bicycle-ride of eleven years ago, and I suddenly remembered that it was in Jagodina that I had met an English-speaking Servian who had shown me considerable kindness and hospitality. A few minutes’ conversation revealed the fact that our English - speaking friend and my host of 1894 were one and the same! Eleven years had elapsed, and, singular to relate, during all that time M. Constanovitch had never met another Englishman nor had the opportunity of speaking Eng- lish. He implored us to stay the night in Jagodina, inform- ing me that the “Lord . Mayor” would be delighted to have us as his guests, but with the knowledge that the Balkans had yet to be encompassed, that the autumn was drawing to a close, and that there was ‘THE CROWD AT JAGODINA. From a Photo. a possibility of snow in Bul- garia, I had perforce to de- cline his kindly invitation. Once more we set off southward, heading for

Page 165

156 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Alexinatz and Nish, but we were not destined to get far that afternoon. The road became worse and worse. Streams appeared across which no bridges existed, and mud-holes were encountered through which it was only with the greatest difficulty that we made our way ; while, to add ‘o the liveliness of the drive, angry team- sters gave us their best—or worst—Servian expletives to the accompaniment of bolting horses and struggling oxen, so that we were glad enough to suspend operations when the little town of Tchupria was reached. Next day we travelled through a wild and picturesque country, bumping slowly along, past Alexinatz, until the road became narrower and narrowerand less defined, and we finally brought up dead at a watercourse. We had lost the road! Where we had missed it I have no concep- tion, though I re- membered that in Alexinatz the crowd was so great that I had been glad to get away in a hurry and had not stopped to inquire the way. To get through this water- course, the banks of which were quite five feet steep, seemed an impossibility —to return was the only alternative. My engineer, however, suggested the rushing of the stream, but this experimental endeavour at work which we subsequently had so much of I had little taste for at the time. However, with the engine racing, and with our every thought con- centrated upon steady driving, the car plunged madly down the embankment, surged through the water, and brought up safely on the other side. Then came a tedious drive across country, over a road which was merely cart-tracks in the virgin soil, until, near sundown, the main road was found again, and we reached the important town of Nish. As we rolled over the badly- paved streets, the first indication of ancient Mohammedan rule appeared in the shape of the minarets of the small Turkish mosque, which stands as a silent memorial of the once all- conquering Turk. From a) CROSSING A BRIDGELESS RIVER IN SERVIA, We stayed at the Hotel Orient, a picturesque place, redolent of garlic. In the evening there were music and Servian dances, and much singing on the part of military officers. The national costume, as at Semendria, was well in evidence, but there was a more bellicose attitude about the gentlemen, who sported knives and revolvers in their belts, while a general air of Orientalism pervaded the whole place. I learned, to my dismay, that snow had appeared on the Balkan hills, over the first range of which I hoped to pass on the morrow. People who evinced an interest in my journey assured me that it was impossible to cross the passes. The roads were, in parts, almost — impas- sable; wheeled vehicles never went over them —only mules carrying goods, pannier fashion, came from the south, What was the use of roads, said they, when there was a railway across the Balkans? But the attempt had to be made. We got away early in the morning. A long flat road took us to the foot of the hills, and away ahead we could see the gleaming, snow- capped heights of the mountains. The road gradually became worse and worse. Huge stones appeared and _ great holes obstructed the passage at every moment. It was crash, bang, and rattle all the way, and time after time I thought the car would break down under the series of shocks to which it was subjected. Then the long, devious ascent of the Balkans commenced. Rise after rise was taken with extreme care. The engine was working at its fullest power, but still it was only at a snail’s pace that we crept up ridge by ridge over a road that threatened destruction at every turn. At two thousand feet high we were amidst the most gloriously savage scenery imaginable, but it was here we began to tackle the worst portion of the pass. It reached out on narrow ledges which hung in places over the very brow of a dizzy precipice. Here and there so acute were (,oogle (Photo.

Page 166

MY MOTOR-TRIP TO CONSTANTINOPLE, ; 157 the turns that it was necessary to stop the car and reverse, the road being so narrow that at these turns we were several times in jeo- pardy of shooting bodily off the ledge into the valley below. Ere long, too, the heat became terrific. To sit in a motor- car and hold the steering-wheel may seem mere child’s play, but the strain up there on the Bal- kan summits was so great that one was glad not only to doff one’s motor coat, but to roll up one’s sleeves to the work. Nearing the top of this first pass we en- countered short, steep rises, up which it became almost impossible to get the car. On one occasion so sheer was the gradient that the back wheels absolutely refused to “ bite,” and raced round and round, scattering sand and rubble. Time after time we rushed at these small hills, sometimes just jockeying the car over, at others having to work up foot by foot, scotching the back wheels when they refused to take a grip of the surface, and making a fresh Start. At length we came to a rise that quite baffled us. In spite of all our efforts the car refused to respond to the engine, and the situation became critical. There was only one way out of it, and that was the employment of muscular help of some sort or another. Robert, who had attempted to assist the engine by pushing at the back of the car, had to acknowledge that his strength was unavailing. During all this time, beyond a muleteer who had passed us and had looked with great astonishment upon our method of conveyance, we had seen no one who could be of any assistance, so that our prospects looked anything but rosy. It was while cogitating on our helpless posi- tion that there came upon the scene an individual who, after first critically inspecting the car, addressed me in French. His garb was that of a Westerner, and although his costume was sadly besmirched with travel it was easy to see he was no native of the country. He sup- plemented his French by an inquiry in German, THE CAR LEAVING N!SH. From a Photo. and then broke out into English. My astonishment may be easily guessed. He turned out to be a Belgian, who was cheerfully tramping from Con- stantinople to Brus- sels—one of those extraordinary _no- mads who are to be met in all parts of the world. A linguist of the first quality, and a man, judg- ing by his de- meanour, of no small culture—and yeta tramp! But, whatever his condi- tion, he came as a Heaven-sent bless- ing, for with his strength, added to that of Robert, and with the full power of the engine turned on, we just managed to get the car over that last rise, and learned with joy that now there was nothing but a long descent into the Nishava valley until Pirot was reached. But the descent to the valley seemed like a nightmare. Time after time we were within an ace of going over the side. The photo. repro- duced on the next page will give some idea of the nature of the roads we had to traverse. Boulders and rocks had to be moved out of the way; great holes had to be negotiated most carefully, and I do not think two mortals were ever so glad as we when the last ridge was turned, the country opened out, and level running was obtained. At Pirot I handed over my Servian papers to the Customs officials, and learned that the Bulgarian frontier was less than twelve kilo- metres away. Remembering the great difficulty I had experienced in getting into Servia, doubts now began to manifest themselves in my mind as to whether Sir George Buchanan, the British Consul to Bulgaria, had been able to effect for me that facilitation of my progress which he had promised. Bulgaria bears the reputation of being a country far more stern as to its frontiers even than Servia. Sir George had written me that he would telegraph to the frontier station informing the officials of my coming, asking them to give me every assist- ance, and to detain me as little as possible.

Page 167

158 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. But I went to bed that night with a fixed and desperate resolve—which, if successful in its accomplishment, would rank as one of the most novel methods of crossing a frontier on record ; but which, if it failed, might land the expedition into a predica- ment from which it would be diffi- cult to extricate itself. Sure enough, twelve kilometres from Pirot we came upon the last Servian out- post. ‘The little leaden seal placed upon my car at Bel- grade was de- tached and handed over to the custodian. He was an affable officer, who delighted my heart by speaking German, and I learned from him that they were pretty severe at the Bulgarian frontier, and that so far as motor-cars were con- cerned he doubted very much whether they would allow mine to pass. This only strerigthened my re- solution, and, after shaking the officer’s hand and thanking him for his kindly invitation to spend the night with him should the Bulgarians prove too much for me, I set the engine going once again and hurried over the four-kilometre neutral zone for the Bulgarian outpost station. I saw a flag fluttering in the distance, and then I confided my project to Robert. This was nothing more or less than to endeavour to “rush” the frontier. The only thing I feared was that there might be a chain across the road, as is customary in Russia, or that the surface itself might be so villainous as to be prohibitive of a fast pace. In order to investi- gate I sent Robert ahead on foot, while I kept the car concealed amongst the trees at the side of the road. He came back after half an hour’s reconnoitring with the news that the road might be taken at a “fair bat,” but that he had seen several soldiers armed with rifles near the flag. So I set the engine going at her hardest, and in a blinding cloud of dust we rushed upon THE TERRIBLE ROAD ACROSS THE BALKANS. From a Photo. the frontier at about twenty-five miles an hour. Fortunately it was all down hill, and the frontier itself was around a slight bend. Ina flash we were round the corner, flying past the flag and the group of soldiers like a whirlwind. The road was horrible, and the car simply bounced along. I saw the soldiers fall back with amazement, not to say terror, depicted upon their faces. I raised my right hand and gave them a salute, and mechanic- ally one or twoof them raised their hands and returned the saluta- tion. The next mo- ment a turn in the road hid us from their sight—and we were in Bulgaria ! Then I slowed the engine down and bumped along steadily. The next problem was the vil- lage of Zaribrod, where the civil Cus- toms would have to be passed. Once more I lurked in ambush with the car while Robert went forward to report possibilities. The little town, said he, was crowded, but the road was passable. Then we surged through Zaribrod also at our best pace. What the good people of this sleepy Balkan village think of motor-cars I cannot tell, but their first experience of one must have come as a terrifying shock. With horn hooting like the bellowing of enraged cattle, with the engine throbbing, and ourselves shouting warningly, the car roared iis way through the one street of the village. Right and left scattered screaming people, and dogs, pigs, mules, and poultry rushed madly hither and thither. I saw one dumbfounded soldier let his rifle drop in sheer amazement, even while his mouth opened and his eyes almost bulged from his head at what he saw. Ina few seconds we were out of Zaribrod and up on the hills again, grinding slowly along, but both filled with the unspeakable joy of our lawless exploit. (To be continued.)

Page 168

MY FRIEND THE LEOPARD. By WatterR H. Bone. Telling of a contest of wits between the author and a man-eating leopard. With infinite cunning, week after week, the brute tried to get Mr. Bone, and he returned the compliment by endeavouring to shoot or trap it, but always without success. How this long-continued struggle between man and beast ended is told in the story. HE leopard isa thief and a murderer; I think his disposition is the product , (Gm of the distillation of equal proportions ue B te Meee of cunning and ferocity, flavoured with a soupgon of grim humour. He seizes a ioe with avidity—especially if the joke is good to eat. At least, such is my conviction, born of experience ; and in the instance herein related I am sure the spotted brute entered into the spirit of the contest of wits—the result of which meant the death of one or other of us— with as much zest, if not with as much dubiety, as I did. At the time of the occurrence I was in charge of a Nyika dis- trict inland from Mombasa, East Central Africa. I had been on a tour of inspection to the out- stations, and on my return to head - quarters at Jomvu the house-boys informed me that a leopard had invaded the poultry- pen (a somewhat flimsy struc- ture of poles and makutt) and eaten all the fowls. That was not surprising. The principal poultry thieves of Africa are big snakes and leopards. Any night leo- pards might be heard grunting as they patrolled the village, and on one occasion I heard four of the brutes answering each other from different points among the huts. They were man-eaters, too, and at frequent intervals carried off younger members ‘of the community. Consequently all doors were kept carefully closed after sunset, and people only ven- tured out at night in armed parties. As this was the third or fourth time my poultry had been stolen, I caused the pen to be rebuilt more strongly, and, as an additional precaution, covered the whole affair with stout wire netting. Then I bought a tupee’s worth of fowls—eight of them—and considered the incident closed. But it wasn’t. Next morning the netting had been ripped away at the side, one of the poles THE AUTHOR, MR. WALTER H. BONE. From a Photo, partly dug and partly wrenched out, and my rupee’s worth of fowls had departed. That was annoying, especially as the tracks showed only an ordinary-sized leopard. 1 mended the pen, replaced the wire, bought some more fowls, and the brute came and stole them again. He tore a hole in the roof this time. Feeling irritable from the effects of jungle-fever, I swore a vendetta and laid myself out to extinguish that leopard. My house at Jomvu was substantially built of coral-rag brought up from the coast, and con- sisted of three main rooms— the big centre dining-room and a smaller bedroom at each end —all having large, square win- dows about four feet from the floor, minus glass, but protected with stout iron bars. The win- dow of my bedroom looked out on the poultry - pen, situated only a few paces distant, and as the moon was favourable at that time I sat up night after night with thé muzzle of my tifle protruding through the bars waiting for my friend the leopard to walk up and be shot. But beasts of prey have an aversion to venturing into the open by moonlight. If the moon sets early they wait until it has set before commencing to hunt ; if it sets late they hunt before moonrise, retiring to the black jungle-shadows while the moon is shining. Consequently, al- though I heard grunting and miawling at frequent intervals in the dense undergrowth close at hand, Bwana Tui, as the natives call the leopard, jailed to appear. When the nights became dark again I in- structed Ambate, my cook, to take the fowls to the boys’ hut at night and return them to their pen in the morning. This was done ; but on the second night I was aroused by a tremendous uproar, punctuated with cries of “Tui!” so I hurried out, emptying my left- hand revolver into the air as I ran, and keeping

Page 169

160 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the right-hand weapon cocked for emergencies. T found that Spots had tried to break into the hut where the boys were sleeping, attracted by the crowing of a rooster that hadn’t sense enough to know the difference be- tween midnight and dawn. We executed that rooster on the spot—he was too obtrusive; and as the presence of the remainder of the fowls was a source of danger to the men I took them back with me, feel- ing vindictive at being compelled to turn out through a thief of a leopard. I flung the fowls into the pen, slammed and bolted the door, and went to bed again. Scarcely an hour later I was again disturbed by the birds fluttering and squawking as the persistent brute triedto getat them. Rising, I plugged . a couple of pistol bullets into the coop from my window, disgustedly reckless whether I hit leopard or fowls. It had the effect of silencing the noise, anyway ; and as we heard no more of the leopard for some time I concluded that he had left the neighbourhood. By this time there was a‘moon again, and, believing it now safe to do so, I resumed a rather dangerous habit I had acquired—that of walking up and down the éarasza smoking a final cheroot before going to bed. For several successive evenings I strolled up and down, with the full glare of the lamp shining upon me through the barred windows and wide doorway. Fortunately for me, however, I did not, as on many former occasions, step off the darasza to walk a few paces on the moonlit path. At last, in these perambulations, I fancied I heard a slight rustling in the undergrowth, and, stopping suddenly, peered out into the shadows. As I did so a snarling growl came from close beside me ; and the celerity with which I skipped inside and slammed and barred the door was really “OS HURRIED OUT, EMPTYING MY LEFT-HAND REVOLVER INTO THE AIR AS TRAN.” surprising. In the morning we found by the tracks that the leopard had for some nights stealthily crept up and down among the bushes, follow- ing my movements, halting when I halted, and moving on when I did, only waiting for me to step off the barazza out of the artificial light to spring upon me ! T enlisted the aid of poison to rid me of this persistent foe, with rather comical results. A couple of fowls having been killed, portions of them were plentifully sea- soned with arsenic, and that evening, after warning the people not to liberate their poultry until the baits had been picked up on the following morning, the poisoned meat was laid in half-a-dozen places round my house. At daybreak all the baits were recovered, though it was evident that something had been pulling them about—probably bush- rats, I thought; anyhow, the leopard declined to touch them. While I was at breakfast, to my surprise the mzee of the village, Mwalimu Mwidani, appeared at the door, followed by a boy carrying a string of half-a-dozen deceased fowls, which he asserted had been poisoned by the ushumu offered at the shrine of the leopard. He asked for a dollar and a half (about three times their value) as compensation, and to my indignant demand why he had disobeyed orders in allowing the fowls their liberty before the baits were collected replied, with tears in his eyes, that the boy had let them out while he (Mwidani) slept. I gave him a rupee, and told him to take them away and bury them. : Ten minutes later Uledi, my headman, marched solemnly up, also carrying a string of fowls. He explained that his wife—whom he © intended to beat to death immediately if I so

Page 170

MY FRIEND THE LEOPARD. 161 “STOPPING SUDDENLY, I PEERED OUT INTO THE SHADOWS.” desired—had deliberately liberated them to get him into trouble with the Bwana (myself). The fowls looked rather the worse for wear, but he stated that this was caused by his having beaten his wite with them in his anger. I didn’t believe him for a moment ; but what was Itodo? He asked for a dollar only, so I gave him a lecture and half a rupee, and sent him off likewise. He had not been gone many minutes when a tall, gaunt, fierce-looking warrior- named Mnyika came along—with a string of fowls! I began to think I’d murdered all the poultry in Africa. He strode truculently in, slammed down the string of dilapidated corpses, and loudly demanded ten dollars! That was the very last straw. I kicked the fowls violently off the darazza, shoved the man after them, and shouted all sorts of horrible threats if he didn’t take the wretched things out of my sight instanter. Mnyika stood looking at me with his mouth open until I had exhausted my stock of expletives ; then, picking up the string of ol. xviii, —21. carcasses, he went away without a word. It took me some little time to simmer down again, but by the time I was ready to smile over the affair Mbagi, another of my boys, rushed in to tell me that Mnyika was murdering Uledi and the mzee behind the cook-house—and would I come at once? I went. Uledi was sprawling flat on his face with the old man on the top of him, while Mnyika, his fierce face dis- torted with rage, thrashed and banged the pair of them with what was left of the string of defunct poultry. The air was filled with feathers and Swahili profanity, and when I could control my laughter sufficiently to haul the warrior off and demand an explanation I learned that Mwidani, instead of burying his fowls, had persuaded the others to present them again as their own and ask for compensation, promising to share the proceeds with them! A dispute had arisen over the matter and Mnyika had taken the settle- ment into his own hands. That night I left the door of the fowl-house open after the birds had gone to roost, having attached a string to the door, running through the staple and then back through my window. But my friend the leopard didn’t want fowls now; he wanted me! Vhad been sitting for a couple of hours writing up my diary and wait- ing for a disturbance among the poultry, when I heard a soft brushing sound on the window- bars. Glancing up I saw the round, yellow head of a leopard, with his horrible eyes glaring in at me. The brute had become familiarized with the steady lamplight, and, rearing up, was testing the strength of the bars. Snatching my pistol I fired, but only carried away a splinter of the window-frame, so, thanking my stars that there was a good stout beam across the door as well, I went to bed. He must have been vicious that night, for he killed and partly ate a young man who ventured to cross the village street in the bright moonlight. The following evening he chased a pariah dog into a hut, the door of which was forced open by the animal’s impact, but when the door swung-to behind him Bwana Tui was scared and sprang through the roof, after badly ripping the back and shoulders of one of the occupants. Near the house was a patch of mahindt (Indian corn), cultivated. by a native named

Page 171

162 Mabruki, and in a cleared space among this he had built a small platform as a sort of watch- tower from which to scare away the robber monkeys. I sat on that platform nursing my rifle from dusk to daylight for two nights. The first night Spots : wandered up and down grunting in the densely-clothed ravine behind me. At two o'clock in the morning 1 heard him sweep- ing his claws down the bark of a tree and purring harshly within twenty paces of me. If he was contemplating a rush he thought better of it, for I was eight feet above the ground. The second night he rustled round and round the platform for hours, keeping well hidden in the mahind?, not daring to venture into the open moonlight. Finally he went away, grumbling and muttering, with- out attacking or giving me a shot. A recurrence of jungle - fever _ pre- cluded my continu- ing the watch on the following nights; instead of roosting on Mabruki’s platform I was alternately baking and shivering in bed. My four-footed friend missed me, and to evince his anxicty concerning my welfare he came over to the station and walked up and down the darasza outside my bedroom, grunting loudly as he turned at each end. I lay listening to him languidly for some time, following his move- ments as he grunted first at this end, then at that, and keeping silent as he passed the window. It seemed to me that he was a long time covering the short distance between the two points, and when the fever abated some- what my mind became lucid enough to grasp what looked an excellent chance to square accounts. Taking my revolver (a heavy °450 Webley) from under my pillow, I waited for the interval of silence which told that he would be “THE AIR WAS FILLED WITH FEATHERS AND SWAHILI PROFANITY.” THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. passing the window, and, cocking the weapon noiselessly, pressed my face to the bars and peered downwards. Then I sprang back hurriedly and climbed into bed again, for I had caught sight of a rounded cheek, a flattened ear, and one glowing eye as the brute squeezed in against the wall beneath. I was almost breath- less at the artful- ness of the beast. He grunted to let me know he was there, and his ap- parent slowness was. accounted for by the fact that every time he passed the windowhecrouched down and waited, expecting that I should come close and try to shoot him, and so give him achancetoclaw methrough the bars. A couple of nights later he tried the same again, and, find- ing that he could not draw me, went away in dis- gust and killed a pak (asmall species of antelope), which he deliberately brought under my window and de- voured with much ostentatious growling, snarling, and_ purring, keeping me awake until just before dawn and leaving a filthy mess on the darasza. Being shaken with fever and entirely alone, so far as white companionship was concerned, I began to grow a bit nervous, as well as angry, at the thought of this brute’s eternally haunting me, and I felt convinced that if I didn’t kill him he would most certainly kill me. I became still more impressed with this belief when the animal took to carrying on the war by daylight. At about three o’clock one afternoon a man arrived, bringing me a message from Mazera, the chief of a section of Wa-Duruma. He was greatly excited, and it was evident from his story —which I subsequently verified—that he had narrowly escaped death at the hands, or rather the teeth and claws, of my persistent friend. Digitized by SsOOQ LE fo)

Page 172

MY FRIEND THE LEOPARD. 163 Close to the village the jungle path to Duruma led round the mouth of the gloomy ravine already mentioned, and then ran through a piece of heavy forest. ‘The messenger had got within half a mile of Jomvu, whining his travel- ling song through his nose, when, as he came through the thick timber, he was horrified to” see a leopard spring from the bushes and land in the track immediately in front of him. He knew that it was hopeless to attempt escape by flight, and his quiver lid had shrunk in so tightly that he could not get an arrow out. He there- fore drew his sémé (a spatulate-shaped sword) and prepared, like a brave man, to fight for his life. He was astonished, however, to see the leopard throw itself on the ground a few paces from him and roll over on its back, playing in the dust like a kitten, or throwing twigs and leaves into the air and striking at them with its paws, but all the time drawing gradually nearer and nearer to him. Suddenly it sprang straight at him, but he was prepared for some such manceuvre, and as the brute leaped he stepped “HE STRUCK AT IT WITH HIS WEAPON. quickly aside and struck at it with his weapon. At once the leopard threw itself down again and recommenced its antics, and the man, in desperation, was about to rush in and end the matter one way or the other when, to -his surprise, the brute bounded to its feet and dis- appeared in the jungle. A few moments after- wards, however, its retreat was accounted for by the appearance of a party from the Swahili town. Next morning, accompanied by a couple of men, I went out along the Duruma path, and saw by the signs and tracks that the messenger had told the truth. The places where the leopard had rolled about were plainly marked, and we found a tuft of yellow fur on the thorn- bush into which the animal leaped in its flight. A hundred yards farther along the track passed through an exceptionally dense thicket, the interlaced foliage overhead rendering the light extremely dull. We were about half-way through, keeping a particularly bright look-out, when one of the men drew my attention to a slight movement on the underside of a thick horizontal bough, which grew directly athwart the track at a height of, perhaps, ten feet from the ground, some twenty paces in advance. At that distance, in the obscure green light, the moving object looked like the head of a boa ; and, halting the men, I ad- vanced quietly, with cocked rifle, to ascertain whether my surmise were correct. At my approach the movement of the sinuous object became more jerkily rapid, and I stopped at ten yards or so from the branch to try and discover where the remainder of the rep- tile’s body was concealed. Then I started with surprise, for it was not a snake, but my friend the leopard, lying flat along the branch waiting to drop on me! I could just see a thin line of fur margining the upper side of the limb, and the moving object beneath was the tip of his tail twitching in anticipation of a good meal, with raw Australian as the piece de résistance. He sprang off into the undergrowth as I fired and sent chips of bark flying from where he had lain the instant before. So far honours were even between us! Determined to leave no stone unturned to rid myself and the village of our incubus, I had a

Page 173

164 leopard-trap built. This consisted of a narrow pen about three feet high, ten fect long, and three wide, constructed of thick poles sunk two feet into the ground, roofed with heavy timber, and having a sliding mouse-trap door, the mechanism of which was operated by a tread- stick. The bait was a live goat, securely fastened inside at the end farthest from the door. On the first night a miserable little beast of a monzo (a tiger-cat no bigger than an ordinary tabby) went in and tried to kill the goat, but the sliding door fell on him and squashed him flat. Every night for nearly a week after that the tracks showed that the leopard—my leopard— prowled round and round the trap before coming over to see if Z were available, but he was too cunning to venture in, and at length I decided to spend a night in the trap and act as bait myself—with the door shut. At dusk, therefore, I took my place inside, spread a blanket on the THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. parative safety—one feels so abominably lonely. As the sun went down the hush which pre- cedes nightfall in the jungle was broken by the wailing “Coo-ee” of a couple of hyenas and a premonitory yelp or snarl from some beast setting out on the nightly hunt. ‘Then there was ~ dead stillness for perhaps an hour, during which my eyes and ears were at their utmost tension. So it went on through the long hours—alter- nate dead stillness and appalling uproar ; and, wearied out at last, I lit my pipe, and after smoking awhile lay down on my blanket and went to sleep. ‘Towards morning I woke sud- denly in a profuse perspiration—something was pulling at the blanket. Sitting up instantly (in doing which I banged my head violently against the low roof) I heard a snarl at the bars of the trap, followed by a soft, heavy thud as some animal sprang back and slunk away. I struck a match and found that the corner of the “T HEARD A SNARL AT THE BAKS 0) ground, and prepared to spend the time as com- fortably as possible until my friend came along. Now, when waiting for wild beasts it is one thing to sit on an elevated platform, but quite another to watch through a black night seated on the ground at the same level as your game, eyen though you be practically safe behind stout wooden bars. In the former case there is somehow a sense of security, albeit a very slight effort would land the animal beside or on the top of you; while in the latter it is difficult in the dark to appreciate your com- THE rRar.” blanket had been dragged out through an inter” stice between the poles, which were fortunately not more than a couple of inches apart. Spots had been after me again ! Leaving the trap at daylight, I found the trail of the retreating leopard led directly through the ravine behind the station, and followed it in, savagely determined to see the matter through then and there. The sides of the gully were fairly steep and, as I have said, densely clothed with vegetation; the tall trunks of the trees growing up from the undergrowth were crowned

Page 174

MY FRIEND THE LEOPARD. overhead with foliage which even at midday scarcely allowed the sun to penetrate. At this hour, there- fore, the light was very feeble in- deed, and I suppose I nervously opened the breech of my rifle, felt the edge and point of my knife, and tucked back the flap of my pistol- holster a dozen times as I crept down and along the side in the semi darkness. The leopard’s tracks had disap- peared long ago; he probably tra- velled along the tree-branches as affording easier passage, and I could only “prospect” for him. Half- way down the ravine was filled with thick mist, which chilled me through and through, and I sat down with my back against a tree to wait until it cleared. Gradually the fog thinned, and then I saw a most beautiful sight. Opposite me the clumps of verdure and mouldering trunks of trees showed indistinct in the dim light, but presently, through a break in the foliage overhead, a shaft of brilliant sun- light shot down diagonally upon a patch on the farther side of the gully. Almost in the centre of this a ledge of rock projected from the bank, backed by an over- hanging mass of dark creeping plants. As I looked, from under the leaves my leopard walked slowly out upon the ledge, thrust- ing his nose this way and that, low down, as though testing the wind. He stretched himself and yawned till he seemed all mouth and tusk, then sat down and licked his paws and washed his face and ears with them like a big cat. The sights of my rifle were bearing on his heart before he had fully emerged from the tangle of leaves, but I refrained from firing ‘and watched him, fascinated. Having finished his toilet he stretched himself again, threw himself suddenly back on his haunches, and shot straight up in the air. At the top of his spring his body doubled like whalebone ; his fore legs came down, his hind legs went up, and he landed on his fore paws exactly on the spot he sprang from, easing his quarters down gently until his hind feet touched ; then up he went again, time after time, always leaping off his hind feet alone, always landing noiselessly on “HE LANDE HIS FORE "AWS EXACTLY ON THE SPOT HE SPRANG FROM, the tips of his fore feet, in exactly the same spot. It was beautiful and wonderful. All round was the gloom of the black gorge, and in the centre the fierce beast at play, shooting up and down in the one brilliant patch of sunshine, his coat gleaming like burnished gold. I forgot the rifle in my hands till, after perhaps twenty such Magnificent springs, he stopped suddenly, crouched forward, and peered over the margin of the ledge. Then I fired and he pitched head-first into the valley. He was quite dead when I reached him.

Page 175

The Convict’s Story. By Lronarp WILMORE. The strange and romantic life - story of one Leonard Wilmore, soldier, deserter, rebel - leader, military prisoner, sailor, highwayman, and convict. Discovered in the penitentiary at Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands, he was persuaded by a local journalist to set down for the first time, for exclusive publication in ‘The Wide World Magazine,” the narrative of his reckless career. F all the tales that have ever come °, out of the Philippines, I believe that WA) mine is the strangest. It is, I fear, 1 KD) a record of violence and bloodshed ; and yet I hope that, when the story is told, the readers of THE Wipe Wor.Lp MacazineE will accord to me the extenuation that belongs to him who falls a victim to cir- cumstances and whom misfortune seems to have claimed for her own. CSD 7 ¥ card monte ” in the second storey of the barracks of the regiment. Thurston gave what is called a “foul lay,” and so got the best of the rest of us. I did not say anything to him at the time, but after the play was over I told him about it. We had been playing a friendly game, and I did not much care whether he had dealt foul or not, but I don’t like a man to be unsportsmanlike. While I was speaking a private named William Weedy, of Company I, inter- I am a native of the ES United States of America and was born in Philadelphia, Penn.,on October 12th, 1879, my father being Dr. Albert Wilmore, a white man, and my mother half negro and half Indian. I attended the Missionary High School until ~ I was ten years of age, when I ran away from home and picked up a living somehow or other by going from race- ; e meeting to race-meeting in different parts of the country. I existed in this way until the Spanish War broke out. |} ~ At that time—1898—I was in Lexington, Kentucky, and yy . as I had not had very good luck lately and there seemed | Tupted me, saying, offen- | sively, that anybody could | rob a fool like me. I re- | plied that it did not make _ any difference, as we had _ been playing for fun; more- / over, he (Weedy) had no- thing to do with the matter. “Well,” he said, “if you don’t like what I have said, defend yourself.” To this I rejoined that I did not want to have any trouble with him. He had previously shown an unac- countable desire to pick a quarrel with me, and, as I wished to avoid any un- pleasantness, I kept quiet. Nevertheless, Weedy kept on “nagging” at me, his insults gradually becoming more and to be no prospects of em- LEONARD WILMORE, ployment about the race- Mee rat CORP Or TiS REMMI cake «= eaOre unendurable. track, I decided to enlist in From a Photo. All this time I had the American army. After joining I was sent to Fort San Carlos, Arizona, with Company C, 25th Infantry, and was later transferred to Company H, of the same regiment. In the latter part of that year our corps was sent to the Philippines, where I was again transferred, this time to Company M. We were finally stationed, in 1900, at Eba San- balos, in Northern Luzon. Well do I remember this place, for it was at Eba Sanbalos that my troubles began. One night, in company with Privates Hart, Thurston, and one other, I was playing ‘“ three- been kneeling on the floor and he sitting down with his army rifle across his knee. Suddenly, exclaiming that he would force me to defend myself, he started to throw the chamber-bolt up to put a cartridge into the magazine, with the evident intention of firing at me. I did not understand why the man should have such enmity toward me, but I knew it was a case of protecting myself or else being shot down in cold blood. As I have said, I had been kneeling all this time, and without getting up I drew my revolver. Before Weedy could bring his rifle to bear on me I fired at

Page 176

THE CONVICI’S STORY. 167 him twice, the bullets passing through his heart, and almost before I realized what I had done he tell lifeless! In the mean- time a soldier who was behind me started to attack me with a sabre. He struck me heavily over the left shoulder, making a wound the scar of which I still carry, but before he could repeat the stroke I turned around and, still kneeling, fired at him. He stag- gered out on to the veranda and toppled over the railing to the ground below, dead. At this all the rest of the men in the room ran downstairs, panic-stricken. I fol- lowed—not, however, with the intention of doing injury to any- body, but of going to General Burt, who was in command of the troops, and sur- rendering myself to him. I did not want to surrender to any- one but the com- mandant, so when the officer of the guard and some soldiers came dash- ing up, alarmed by the firing, I told them to keep off and let me alone, for I was going to tell General Burt all about it. They kept their distance and I was allowed to go to the General's head- quarters and surrender. At the trial everybody turned against me. The men who had been in the barracks playing or watching the game, and who had seen all the row, swore falsely against me, and as a result I was found guilty and sentenced to be executed for the killing of the two men. Before the sentence could be carried out, however, the findings of the court-martial had to be approved at Wash- ington, so I was kept in prison until word on this matter could be received from the War Department or the President. They put me in double irons and kept me in a cell which was located in a long row of buildings facing a sort of court. Finally, sick to death of my long incarceration, I determined to escape. With all the witnesses against me, and no recommend- ation to mercy accompanying the report, I knew “1 FIRED AT HIM TWICE.” that it was useless for me to expect any- thing but death. 38 Accordingly I deter- mined to make a bid for life and liberty. I had been seven long months in that cell before I was able to put my design into execution. The lock on the door was ‘an old - fashioned affair, and I felt that if 1 could only get the shackles off my wrists and ankles I could easily break out of the place. I was very strong in those days, and the hope of saving my life gave me, I suppose, greater strength than ordinarily. One night, with the aid of a piece of iron which had formed the handle of a bucket in my cell, I managed to break the fetters on my legs and wrists. Then I watched at the door for the guard. I figured that he would go round the end of the building, about fifteen yards from my cell, and this would give me a clear course through the grounds until I reached the gateway, where another sentry was stationed. The latter would not be expecting any attempt at escape, and would be so surprised that I should be upon him before he could challenge me or raise his rifle to stop my flight. My surmise proved to be correct. When 1 thought the first guard had turned the corner of the building and was out of sight of my cell door, I opened the door, the lock and bolt of which I had previously broken off, and with my heart beating like a sledge-hammer turned toward the gateway and ran desperately for the exit. I was right about the sentry there, for he did not see me until I was close upon him. Before he could do anything I had felled him to the ground with a blow of my fist and was bounding away across acleared space toward a rice-field that lay about three hundred yards from the camp. Once in there I knew I had a chance of eluding my pursuers. But my escape was discovered and the alarm 3

Page 177

168 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. sounded all too soon. The sentry whom I had knocked over picked himself up immediately, and fired his rifle at me as I ran toward the rice- field. Other sentries promptly discharged their weapons, and soon the corporal of the guard and more men came hurrying out in pursuit. ‘They fired volley after volley at me before I managed to reach the rice-field and disappear from their sight, but fortunately none of the shots struck me. As I moved stealthily forward through the rice I thought of my position even if I succeeded in escaping—unarmed and alone in a wild, unfriendly country, peopled with bloodthirsty enemies of my countrymen. But I was free, and the very thought that I was once more master of myself, and not a condemned criminal doomed to death, gave me fresh strength to battle with any dangers or difficulties that were likely to arise. Behind me I heard the soldiers searching the rice-field, but I soon left this and made my way to the higher ground. I had done enough scouting in the Philippines to know that my position was a most perilous one, and that even if I eluded the American soldiers I was almost certain to be captured by the Filipinos, What the latter were likely to do with me I could only conjecture ; they might hand me over to my comrades or else they might kill me themselves. They are a treacherous, cruel lot, and, moreover, they had special reasons for hating me. I had served as a scout for our forces, and in this capacity had THEY FIRED VOLLEY AFTER VOLLEY AT ME BEFORE I MANAGED TO REACH THE RICE-FIELD.” distance from the town. done much harm to the Filipinos, being the best shot in my regiment. I bad heard many times that the rebels had offered a reward for me, dead or alive, so that my chances if I fell into their hands now seemed somewhat slim. After some reflection I decided to endeavour to get a baat, make my way down the river, and try to escape to China, where I should be free from danger of capture. For three days I remained hiding in the vicinity of my former prison: I could see the soldiers scouring the neighbourhood for trace of me, and very often they passed within a few yards of where I lay con- cealed. ‘The third © night I made my way -dawn to the town of Eba_ Sanbalos, and looked around for an opportunity of steal- ing a. boat and pro- visions and_ starting down the river. By the evening of the fourth day I had secured a boat and stocked it with rice and water and what- ever supplies I could lay my hands on. I was just about to get into it and start away when I was sur- rounded by a band of thirty or forty Filipino soldiers. They had heard of my escape and had been on the look-out for me. I knew it was no use to resist, so I obeyed their command to accompany them to the camp of the Filipino army, which was located a short They asked me how I had escaped and what I intended to do, and I told them frankly of my plans. Finally, the General said that I should not be allowed to leave the country; that they had wanted to capture me for a long time ; but now they would give mea chance to save my life, for they desired my help. I must join the Filipino army, he concluded, or else he would have me shot on the spot. I was helpless ; there was no hope of escaping death unless I acceded to the rebels’ demands, and after thinking the matter over I decided to accept the offer. I became a rebel only in name, however ; in reality I was a spy for the Americans, and was .able to help them even more while supposed to be a deserter and a

Page 178

THE CONVICT’S STORY. 169 renegade than I had ever done while a member of my company. Ere long the Filipinos made me a captain in their much-officered army, and by reason of my military knowledge I was given considerable authority. I did not abuse it, however, by doing my countrymen any harm ; in fact, I used every means I could to help them. I was able to do this through the assistance of an ex- sergeant named Kearney, who had formerly belonged to my regiment, but had left the army and married a Filipino woman. She was a native princess or noblewoman of some kind, and the Filipinos regarded her house as their head-quarters for hatching treason against the hated Americanos. Kearney, while pretending that he was in sympathy with the Filipinos, was in reality heart and soul with the Americans, So was I, although I knew only too well that I had no hope of receiving any benefits from them. Between us, however, Kearney and I managed to keep our countrymen posted regarding the various secret expeditions of the enemy. Often and often I have warned the Americans of ambuscades and acts of treachery prepared for them by the Filipinos. The rebel bands always remained in the vicinity of Eba Sanbalos. It was easy for them to operate against the Americans, for they would one day pretend to be “amicos,” or friends, and the next would be engaging in some act of hostility against the troops. Sometimes the force to which I was attached would be only thirty miles distant from the town, but, as we stayed in the impenetrable thickets, we might have been hundreds of miles away. I finally fell out with my Filipino captors by trying to save the lives of captured Americans. Whenever I discovered that there were any prisoners I always did my best to liberate them, for the rebels were much incensed against their captives and invariably killed them without much ceremony. I suppose that during the time I was with the Filipinos I secretly liberated twenty prisoners and enabled them to get back to the American lines. Finally my command was transferred to another part of the district, to the vicinity of a town called Palawig. The Filipinos had by this time begun to suspect me of letting the prisoners loose, and finally I was charged with the act and condemned to death. At that time I was under the command of a “general” called, I think, Alsay. I had been with the Filipinos for about five months, having been forced to join them during the latter part of 1goo. There had never been any opportunity to get away from them, for they watched me too closely. The rebels decided to shoot me on the morn- ing following the promulgation of my death sentence. In the camp there was another coloured U.S.A. soldier, named Robinson. He had been captured just about this time, and was also sentenced to death. Curiously enough, he “BOTH OF US WERE TIED TO)A) TREE, Vol. xviii. —22.

Page 179

170 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. had been with the same regiment as myself, and I knew him. Both of us were tied to a tree and a Filipino sentry ordered to guard us. Robinson thought that our time had come, 2nd he gave up all hope of escaping alive, but I told him not to despair. Pretending that I was very tired, I acted as if I were asleep, but all the time I was tugging at the ropes that bound my hands. The careless sentry finally wearied of watching us, and, thinking us secure, dozed off to sleep. Here was my opportunity! A few jerks and I got loose ; then I ran round behind the tree and freed Robinson. We quickly seized a couple of rifles and about three hundred rounds of ammunition and started to make our escape. At this moment, however, the sentry awoke, but before he could rise or give the alarm I dealt him a blow that knocked him senseless. Then Robinson and I sped away in the darkness. We knew it would be a question of only a few hours before the entire band would be hot upon our trail, intent upon recaptur- ing us and possibly putting us to death with horrible tortures. We accordingly exerted ourselves to put as much distance as possible between us and our ‘former captors. Palawig, where the American troops were, was only thirty miles away, but to reach that place we had to pursue a diffi- cult course. We could not move along the roads except at great risk, while travel- ling over the moun- tains and through the thick tropical growth was a most arduous undertaking. By this time I had become so discouraged that I determined to surrender a second time to General Burt, provided I could find him. He was still at Eba Sanbalos when I last heard of him, so I determined to get Robinson safely to Palawig if possible, while 1 would make my way to the other town, which was sixteen miles farther off. For two days and two nights we pushed on, sometimes along the native trails, but most of the time creeping painfully through the tangled underbrush on our hands and knees. Scores of times the pursuing Filipinos came up with us, . but I was a dead shot and expert at this sort of warfare, so that we always repulsed them with heavy loss. Finally I decided that we must separate ; the infuriated natives were gradually getting nearer to us, and the only chance was for us to bolt in different directions. I realized that there was practically no hope of both of us getting to the American lines, so I determined that Robinson should be the man to get away. My life was forfeit whether I went forward or allowed myself to be captured, while Robinson had a good record. There was no future ahead of me; my life had been a failure throughout, and I felt that if I should sacrifice myself to save my companion I might partly atone for my own shortcomings. Anyhow, I forced him to make “‘SRIZING MY RIFLE, I KILLED BOTH THESE MEN.” a dash for Palawig, while I remained behind to hold the Filipinos in check and make them think that we were still together in the undergrowth. My plan miscarried, however, for the following morning, from the top of a hill, I saw two Filipinos returning with Robinson a captive between them ; they had intercepted him before he reached Palawig. Seizing my rifle, I killed both these men and released him, and he finally succeeded in reaching the American lines in safety. I watched. Robinson reach :my>countrymen

Page 180

THE CONVICT’S STORY. 171 from an eminence that overlooked the camp, and then I sat down somewhat sadly and thought over what I should do. Robinson had promised me that he would not tell the Americans that I was anywhere near, but in his excitement he forgot his promise and informed them. Naturally the authorities sent out detachments in search of me, but they did not get near me. Then they dispatched the Filipino police after me, and these natives almost captured me. I had run out of ammunition, and they surrounded me on top of a high mountain overlooking a deep gulch near Palawig. The mounted men approached from one side and ‘the foot men from another. I rolled boulders down on the foot men, and had the satisfaction of stopping their advance. Then, in the night, I escaped down the gulch, and after a few days more of wandering reached Eba and again surrendered to General Burt. I was able to materially aid the Americans by showing them the hiding-places of Filipino arms and ammunition, and furnishing them with other information. The result was that, largely through November, 1901, and had not been there a week before the desire to be at liberty seized me, and I looked about for the best means of escaping. It was a most hazardous undertaking, and much unlike that at Eba Sanbalos. We were hemmed in by high walls and guarded night and day by vigilant sentries, and to increase the difficulty, even if one got outside of the walls and eluded the sentries, he found himself shut in on all sides by water, for Alcatraz is an island almost in the centre of the bay, the nearest Jand being San Francisco city, about two miles dis- tant. But I made up my mind to try to break out ; and a white prisoner named Ernest said he was willing to make the attempt with me. It was useless to try violent methods; only cunning could secure our liberation, and so we watched for an opportunity. It came sooner than we expected. On the afternoon of the second Sunday that I spent in the prison I happened to notice that the guards were not looking in my direction, and that a certain portion of the wall was clear. “) MADE MY WAY ACROSS THE BAY TO OAKLAND.” . my efforts in this respect, the insurrcction in that part of Luzon was broken up. My sentence—I suppose because I had rendered good service to the Americans—was commuted to life imprisonment, and in October I was sent to Manila and imprisoned in the “Quartell de Espaia,” whence I was put aboard the transport Afcade and sent to Alcatraz Prison, in San Francisco Bay, to serve out my life-sentence. I reached that prison in Telling Ernest to follow, I ran and, jumping seized hold of the top of the wall. Ernest caught hold of my body and hauled himself to the top. I scrambled after him and we both leaped down, rolled into a ditch, and crawled under an adjacent shed. Here we remained until nightfall, and then tried to leave the island for the mainland. The only thing we could find to support. us in the water was an old ladder,,. Both( of cus got) on, but we had gone

Page 181

72 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a Photo. only a short distance when our frail support began to sink. I tried to support Ernest, for we had made the mistake of both getting on top of the ladder, but the poor fellow sank, and I never saw him again. The tide races along at a rapid rate at that point, and I suppose he was swept out to sea. As for myself, I managed to get back to the shore, where I found a board, and, getting on it, finally made my way—after being in the water for eight hours— across the bay to Oakland, to the east of San Francisco. In Oakland I procured some clothes and crossed to San Francisco, where I shipped on the American whaling schooner California, under the name of Leonard Palmer. We went to Chinese and Japanese waters, being out on the cruise for seven months, when I was taken ill and had to be paid off at Hoka- date, Japan. I was in the hospital for two months, and then went to Yokohama and made a short trip to China. Finally, the American Consul at Yokohama gave me transportation to Honolulu, where I arrived in August, 1902. I was weak and worn out from sickness, and could not per- form any manual labour. When in this parlous state I fell in with a gang of coloured men and we began to get money by “ holding up” people, for which purpose I employed an old pistol that could not have done any injury if I had wanted to use it. I did not follow this lawless occupation as a regular means of getting a living ; I simply wanted to ob- tain enough money to enable me to get away to the mainland of the United States, and in my weak state of health knew not how to obtain it honestly. Once again ill-luck pursued me, how- ever; someone ‘“peached” on me and I was arrested, con- victed, and sentenced to serve twelve years for highway robbery. I was tried under the name of “Roger James,” and nobody here had any idea of my real identity until I confessed to Warden William Henry of the prison. WAKDEN WILLIAM HENRY, TO WHOM WILMORF MADE HIS CONFESSION. From a Photo. by Williams, Honolulu,

Page 182

Hunting the Wild Carabao. By HaMILTON WRIGHT. ‘‘More dangerous, perhaps, than lion-hunting, swifter while it lasts than a cross-country steeplechase, the pursuit of the wild carabao is unique,” writes the author. It is also intensely exciting, as Mr. Wright's narrative shows, for the animal is endowed with wonderful speed and strength, coupled with a malignant ferocity, so that many a carabao-hunter has paid for his temerity with his life. N all the Orient there is probably no more exciting sport than what is afforded in hunting the wild carabao, or water-buffalo, in Northern Luzon, Philippine Islands. More dan- gerous, perhaps, than: lion-hunting, swifter while it lasts than: a cross-country steeplechase, the pursuit of the wild carabao is unique in that it gives an almost epic panorama of the primitive hunt, and recalls vividly the scene which must have been presented thousands of years ago when prehistoric man, with his crude weapons of the chase, met and slew the great cave-bear at close quarters. Surely no more dramatic setting could be found nowadays than a wild carabao hunt. A hundred and fifty, or perhaps as many as two hundred, natives, mounted on swift and hardy little ponies and armed with huge lances, run down and spear the maddened beast, often not without the loss of several of their ponies, and not infrequently the death of a native. It would be difficult to name any animal more dangerous to attack than the wild carabao. Of huge bulk, great endurance, and remarkable vitality, able to move quickly and turn sharply, and endowed with such vitality as enables it to charge its enemies even after receiving a mortal wound, the physical qualities alone of the buffalo would render it a most formidable opponent. But to its giant strength and bulk there must be added its innate hostility to the white man, its ferocity, its love for its young, and, in a fight, a high order of cun- ning that will upset the best- | laid plans ever devised by a Napoleon of the hunting - field. As a matter of fact, all wild ani- mals, when not cornered, will generally try to getoutoftheway of a white man; but let a wild carabao be hit From: a) A GROUP OF CARABAO, by a bullet, and as soon as it has discerned the hunter or discovered the spot whence the shot was fired the animal will charge. A wild carabao starts like a catapult and charges like a whirlwind. He rushes through the high cogon grass like an avalanche, as it were, breaking down and brushing aside obstacles through which the ordinary horse cannot or will not pass. He leaps small natural ditches and swims through the larger esteros. When he has reached his victim he gores him, tosses him in the air, and finally kneels with his huge bulk upon the prostrate form. Few natives have the courage to attack the wild water-buffalo single-handed. Mr. G, J. Altman, a well-known sportsman of Sandakan, British Borneo, who has killed both elephants and water-buffaloes, considers the latter much more dangerous. “Half the time, if an elephant is hit, he will charge you, and half the time he will run away,” says Mr. Altman, “but the wild water-buffalo will always charge when wounded.” Some instances of the brute’s ferocity may not be uninteresting. A native boy, by: name Justito Esteban, with two companions, hunted wild buffaloes in the foothills west of Echague, in the upper Cagayan Valley, Luzon. They wounded a cow buffalo, but it escaped into the brush, and they decided to return to a little settlement to pass the night. They had reached the darrio (hamlet) and were about to turn into a house, when suddenly, through the gloom, they heard the wild buffalo, in pursuit, coming between them and the dwell- ing. Two of the natives had the presence of mind to jump into a ditch at the side of the road, but Justito Tan away and was promptly overtaken. When the buf- falo left him the hapless native’s body was literally torn to pieces, but [(hato:

Page 183

174 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the dogs found the buffalo dead near by. As an illustration of the fight for life put up by the wild carabao there may be cited the terrible experience of Second-Lieutenant Lewis C. Dean, of the Philippines Constabu- lary. In July, 1903, Lieutenant Dean, with a detachment of native soldiers, was journey- ing in the upper por- tion of the Cagayan Valley. A herd of cara- bao was sighted, and Dean, selecting a large bull, fired five shots into the animal, which was about one hundred and fifty yards distant. He used a regulation army Springfield— presumably a 45‘90— and, shooting from his horse, was in little danger at the time. The bull dropped, but a moment later staggered to his feet and rushed into a small thicket. Dean, believing the carabao to be disabled, got off his pony and, taking a 45 Colt’s revolver, started into the brush after him. He had just reached the edge of the thicket when the buffalo came at him headlong. The distance between man and beast was not more than twenty-five yards, and Dean was totally unprepared for the onslaught, because the buffalo came from a different direction to that he had taken in entering the brush. Although Dean somehow managed to empty his revolver into the bull, the shots.seemed to have no more effect than so many mosquito bites. In less time than it takes to tell it the buffalo had caught the un- fortunate constabulary officer and thrown him into the air. One huge horn pierced Dean’s right shoulder and tore off the flesh down to the elbow. When he struck the ground the hunter managed to catch the carabao by the horns, and so kept himself from being tossed again, though the animal struggled viciously to dislodge him. As he clung there one of the carabao’s horns tore a terrible hole from beneath the lieu- tenant’s rizht eye through the cheek. Another glancing blow, as the beast swung its great head, made a gash in the man’s side as though he had been struck by a scythe. Then the carabao pushed Dean off his feet and bumped him with its head. The unfortunate sportsman, with practically “THE HUNTER MANAGED TO CATCH THE CARABAO BY THE HORNS, THOUGH THE ANIMAL. STRUGGLED VICIOUSLY TO DISLODGE HIM.” all his ribs broken, fell back unconscious, and the animal was preparing to kneel upon his antago- nist when, noticing that life seemed to be extinct, he sniffed disdainfully at the motionless body and walked off. Seventy-five yards away the carabao laid himself down and died. All five of the rifle-sshots had struck the bull in the body and one had raked him fore and aft. Poor Dean was immediately taken to the nearest constabulary post at Echague by his escort of Filipino soldiers. Eventually he recovered enough to get about, though he always suffered agonies from his wounds, which left ghastly scars. Dean was made supply officer of the Manila garrison, and later, on account of poor health, was transferred to Subig, Zambales Pro- vince, where he died on November roth, 1904. Dean’s mistake lay in advancing into the brush to find the carabao. Had he remained in the open and not dismounted he would have been alive to this day. The carabao, after reaching concealment, had cunningly circled round to charge from the side or rear. There are many instances in which wounded carabaos have backed on their tracks and waited beside their trail to attack their pursuers unaware. In almost every district in which wild carabao abound you will find a number of cases where native hunters have been gored to death. Captain Harpoldt, of the Philippines Con- stabulary, had one of his men killed while on a hunt very recently,

Page 184

HUNTING THE Often a domestic carabao in some remote province, unacquainted with the scent of a white man, will charge him without provocation. Colonel H. H. Bandholz, of the Regular army, U.S A., and at present Acting Chief of the Philippines Constabulary, cites an instance where a domestic carabao chased an American soldier, who fled into a church and closed the portals behind him. The excited carabao leaped after him through a window of the building, scattering instantly the few worshippers who happened to be at their devotions, so that in a few moments the carabao was alone. “A bull in a china shop isn’t a circumstance to a carabao in a cathedral,” said the soldier who had this alarming dodge-in-and-out experience. The best carabao-hunting in the world is to be found in the foothills and mountain meadows of the great Cagayan Valley of Northern and Central Luzon. If there ever existed a true WILD CARABAO. 175 famous estate in the valley, a place where you can get a clean, soft bed, the luxury of a bath, something different to eat than rice without butter and fried chicken, and, best of all, the hacienda is within less than two days by horse- back from the hunting-ground. Before taking this hunt the writer had travelled five hundred and thirty-two miles on horseback, ninety-eight on foot, and sixty-four miles by “ banquillas,” or native canoes, through some little known and some unknown sections of Northern and Central Luzon. Our destination was a town called Taiti, up on the Paret River, a tributary of the Cagayan. The only time to get into the carabao country is in the dry season, when the trails become hard. It is impossible to make the trip during the rainy season, which lasts from the middle of August until about the middle of December. The Presidente or executive officer of Taiti, ‘THE HUNTERS ASSEMBLED FOR THE CHASE—THE PARTY INCLUDED WHITR MEN, IGORROTE SAVAGES, CALINGAS, AND NATIVE CAGAYANES, From a Photo, paradise for sportsmen, surely it must be here. Deer, wild boar, and—greatest of all—carabao are to be found by the thousands ; there are also some wild horses. Small game is abundant, and wild chickens or, as they are better known, jungle-fowl abound in the forest. Then there are wild ducks and geese, and one can get doves, snipes, woodcocks, curlews, and quails in season with but slight effort, for they are in great numbers and have but little fear of man. Though the width of the valley varies from about ten to sixty miles, yet it has an average breadth of forty miles, and into it there open hundreds of smaller valleys which stretch back in grassy, park-like pastures into the mountains. Here and on the edges of the Cagayan Valley itself one finds the wild carabao roaming in herds of from three to twenty. At the moment of writing the writer has just concluded a carabao hunt in a mountain valley district known as the Bagao region. Our party was fortunate in being able to put up at the Hacienda de Calabbacao, perhaps the most arrayed in white pantaloons, a felt hat of ancient make, and carrying a silver-headed cane, came out to meet us. Word had been passed to neighbouring rancherias (villages), and he had secured about a hundred and fifty men, all eager for the hunt. In addition, we had brought along about fifty men from the hacienda, the wel season being not yet completely over. They were a queer assortment of hunters—Igorrotes from the mountains, fine big, supple fellows, savages to their finger-tips, and practically naked ; Calingas from the foothills, dressed in brightly-coloured tunics ; and native Cagayanes, valley-people mounted on_ half-starved, shaggy little stallions so small of stature that the legs of the riders were not more than a foot from the ground. ‘These ponies are trained to follow a deer or carabao whenever they sight one, and they will run down either in almost any kind ot country except the forests, where the deer can slip away, and the bogs, through which the carabao seems to pass with little effort. But here ,the_hunting-ground; |an hour's ride from

Page 185

176 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a) BURNING THE GRASS TO Taiti, was open, rolling country covered with wild gramma grass and dotted with trees like a park. Our little army reached the ground before sunrise. Presently, with a glare of red, the sun came up, the native hunters stationed at the heads of the valleys unleashed their curs, and the hunt was on. Soon the Igorrotes and Calingas were beating the brush and yelling forth their penetrating ‘“whoo-ah-la,” every yell ending with the name of each native’s particular dog or dogs. One’s nerves tingled with excite- ment as the din grew greater. Presently a deer slipped out of the forest. He ran to the top of an open knoll and stooped to listen. A native constabulary soldier was in the way—these men always try to get the best shots—but he missed. Another deer came jumping along, with the dogs close behind. ‘Don’t shoot!” came the shouted order. ‘Let the Cagayanes run him down on their horses.” Ah! they are after him, the little horses following right in his track! At every jump the pursuers make three yards to the deer’s two, though the hunted animal seems to fairly soar in the air, he leaps so high and stiff- legged. Now they are on him! When we got there the deer was being cut up, and the starved curs were being beaten back for fear they would get enough to eat and refuse to continue the hunt. Three hundred yards away another deer was run down, while in the woods the dogs bayeda boar. The Igorrotes rushed excitedly in with their spears, scenting another SCARE THE DEER INTU THE OPEN, (Photo. pair of tusks for arm ornaments. The boar was a huge, ponderous beast, fat as butter and high at the shoulder as a man’s hips, but they soon laid him low. By six o'clock it had clouded up, but the sport had been fast and furious—we had killed quite a number of deer and a couple of boars. Every little wooded gully had contained at least one deer, but no carabao—the chief object of the hunt—had been sighted. Then the aged and dignified Presidente of Taiti called the party together to take counsel. An old Igorrote woman who had been beating the brush said she had seen three carabaos running hard across a flat as she came down a hillside a few moments before. Just then it started to rain and the sky looked ominously heavy. ‘“ Did the sefiors desire to return?” asked the Presidente, anxiously; “the Paret River might rise and keep us here several days.” “No, sir,” we replied in chorus; “not now we are so near to the carabao as this.” He did not need it translated, and we started off to find the carabao—we Americans and the Presidente up in front. At the edge of the first meadows we found the spoor of three carabaos. The trail led into a clump of woods which filled an almost flat gully some ten acres in extent. The excited dogs got to the woods long before we did, and then, without warning, out came one of the carabaos two hundred yards away, running sideways to our course, looking as big (Photo. RETREAT OF THE CRangd,

Page 186

HUNTING THE WILD CARABAO, From a) as an elephant and dashing over the ground like a locomotive. At the sight a great noise arose from the whole party, and in a moment they were charging like cavalry to head him off. Whether one stays in front or drops to the rear depends upon one’s horse. My horse was a good one, but I held him back a little, for I had no spear, and at such a pace one cannot use a rifle, while a pistol is no better than a pop-gun. Every leap of the galloping ponies brought us nearer to the carabao. ‘I'wo hundred feet away the great brute stopped running, wheeled round, and faced us defiantly. For a moment he stood as if carved in granite, his nose on a level with the top of his head. Then he started to trot for the left wing of the party. The line in front parted before him, and an instant later a great spear stuck straight and stiff out of his side. Swerving, the now infuriated animal caught a pony squarely in the middle, hurling it several feet away and killing it instantly, but luckily the agile rider promptly fell off the horse’s back and to the rear of the buffalo. During the brief in- stant the animal stopped anative crept up and hamstrung him with a do/o, He sank down full of spears, and the hunt was over. : At nine o'clock that morning it began to pour steadily, and we returned to Taiti —not, however, be- fore two more cara- baos had been secured. One of these was speared by na- tives in an uneventful Vol. xviii, —23, oy THE END OF THE HUNT. MP : SOME OF THE SPEAKS USED BY THE NATIVES IN CARABAO-HUNTING, From a Phote, 177 [Photo manner, and the other was shot by one of our party, Mr. Allison 1. Gibbs. Gibbs had a Krag-Jorgensen, which, under a distance of two hundred yards, shoots high and to the left. ‘Thus he had to gauge his gun, and in shooting for a carabao’s heart at, say, a hundred yards with the animal facing him he would aim at the bull’s right fore-knee. This is well enough in target practice, but in the case of a buffalo like the one we had just killed, for instance, it is quite another story. Gibbs got a buffalo at a hundred and fifty yards in the open. The first shot passed through his lungs, and the second dropped him dead. ges Some people may say this carabao-spearing is cruel sport. I agree with them; it 7s cruel. The Malays—from which race these natives spring—are themselves a cruel race. But carabao-hunting with dogs and spears is a necessity with these poor people, who are not permitted by the Government to use guns. Now that the rinderpest has visited the islands carabaos are worth from forty to seventy-five Ame- rican dollars each, and to the native who earns ten or twenty cents a day this re- presents quite a for- tune. Hunting with spears, too, is more merciful in a way than the guns, be- cause the carabao seldom gets away to die a lingering, miser- able death in’ the forest, as sometimes happens when the hunter's bullet fails to disable the animal at once. ine A FOOQ

Page 187

Six Days in a Swamp. By T. C. Bripces. The author and three friends arranged a pleasure-trip down a Florida river from source to mouth—a journey that had never been accomplished before. The upshot of the expedition was that they got hope- lessly lost in a vast swamp, and underwent many tribulations ere they finally reached civilization. ) T was simply because no one had 1 Na ever before rowed down the river } from source to mouth that we were so keen to make the attempt. It may sound odd to most people’s ears to talk of rowing from the source of a river ; but Florida rivers are very different from others. As a rule, they rise full-fledged from the lime- stone rock — great, boiling, gushing fountains of trans- parent water of such volume that in some cases it is actu- ally possible to run a stern- wheel steamboat to the very pool in which they appear. The Wekiva River rises in this way, but Altamonte Spring, which is its source, is a comparatively small one, and when we lifted our eighteen- foot cat-boat from the wagon we had serious doubts as to whether she would fit into the little pool at all. But there was no choosing our launching spot. The spring was the only place where we could reach the water, for beyond it the river plunged at once into thick ‘* hammock ”* (hardwood forest) and was lost to view. It was Hobson’s choice, and after much manceuvring the boat slid down the steep bank and floated like a cork in the centre of the bubbling pool. We piled our goods aboard and jumped after them. A shouted good-bye to our negro teamster.and we were off. There were four of us who started on that lovely March morning. Three—Franks, Myers, and Marshall—were Americans; the fourth, your humble servant, an English orange-grower. Our idea was to make a very pleasant little picnic of the expedition. Twelve miles below Altamonte Spring another river, the Clay Springs Run, joined the Wekiva. Five miles up the Run was THE AUTHOR, MR. T. C. BRIDGES. From a Photo. by Arcade Studio, Reading. a settlement where we had friends. We meant to make this place the first night, sleep there, and start refreshed next morning for the mouth of the Wekiva, where it joins the St. John’s. The latter part of the journey we reckoned we could do in two days, making three in all. How sadly mistaken we were. in our calculations we were to discover to our cost. The first part of our journey was distinctly excit- ing. The stream, far too narrow for rowing, ran deep and swift in a series of the very sharpest curves—so sharp that, in spite of the best efforts of the man in the bow, the boat constantly charged the high bank in a_bull- headed fashion, which half filled her with loam and leaves and made her occupants sit down with emphatic bumps and still more emphatic language. Suddenly there loomed up a dead trunk, lying right across the river from bank to | bank. There was nothing for it but to cut through the obstacle. Myers sprang out with an axe, and the chips flew in a white shower. So did the ants. ‘The half- rotten wood was the home of hordes of large red ants, which bit like fiends. Before the boat could be pulled clear she was swarming with the fierce little warriors, and long after the trunk had parted and the boat had passed on its way we were busy picking ants off ourselves and sweeping them overboard. For some hours this sort of thing went on, the river gradually growing in size, but still too narrow and crooked for rowing. Sometimes a log had to be cut through ; sometimes it was necessary to lift the boat over a half-submerged trunk. ‘The banks were high and_ heavily wooded and the sunlight glittered down through

Page 188

SIX DAYS IN A SWAMP. 179 “THE CHIPS FLEW IN A WHITE SHOWER. a tracery of delicate foliage. The trees were all hardwood—live oak, water oak, bastard oak, bay, red gum, and magnolia, the latter forest giants sixty feet high and filling the air with scent from white blooms the size of dinner- plates. Soon after luncheon—a scratch repast - of biscuits, cheese, and peach cider—the boat suddenly left the hammock and glided into the mazes of a great saw-grass swamp. Saw-grass is a purely Floridan product. Ten to twelve feet from root to summit, its blades are grey-green in colour, wide and stiff, with serrated edges which cut abominably. Nothing short of an alligator can penetrate it; its great height and thickness make it impossible to force a boat through it. It covers hundreds of square miles in South Florida, and many a life has been lost in its tangled recesses. In the saw-grass the river spread out into a maze of, shallow channels, and here our troubles began. We tried one after another, and over and over again grounded or ran into blind alleys and were forced to return. Once we drove the boat hard aground. The bottom was fair yellow sand. Myers and Marshall pulled off their boots and sprang overboard to lift her. Instantly they were both up to their knees and sinking fast. We in the boat had to pull like grim death to haul them out of the patch of treacherous quicksand which SO DID THE ANTS,” they had happened on. Fortunately, by the use of our mast we managed to pole the boat back into water that would float it. The sun was low.before -the dark green heads of cypresses loomed above the tall vegetation, In another ten minutes we had left the grass behind us, and with two men at the oars were pulling down a deep, placid creek be- tween rows of giant cypress trees. The place hada curious resemblance to the aisle of a great cathe- dral. The floor, placid brown water; the columns, giant grey trunks rising many feet before showing a branch ; overhead great limbs with heavy inter- mingled foliage formed a magnificently-arched roof. To add to the illusion, long trails of grey Spanish moss hung motionless in the breathless air, giving the appearance of tattered banners depending from the vault above. From the bases of the monstrous trunks huge knees and buttresses extended far out into the water, gnarled and twisted into a thousand fan- tastic shapes, and curiously resembling those " peculiar rocks seen where a lava stream has met salt water. Here we saw for the first time what was later to prove our worst enemy, that curious weed the water-lettuce. The top of the water-lettuce bears an exact resemblance to its garden name- sake, but below is a huge mass of roots. It floats on the water, and, gliding gently down the sluggish current until it meets some obstruction, gathers in huge rafts, which finally block the whole stream from bank to bank. These rafts rot, and upon them grow forests of other weeds, until at last the river is entirely hidden. It was growing late. There was now no longer any hope of reaching the Clay Springs Settlement that night. We realized that we should have tocamp. But where? ‘That was the question, for there was no longer any solid land to camp on. On either side lay miles of impenetrable swamp, deep black liquid mud, tangled creepers, and rotting vegetation; the only inhabitants alligators, snakes, and turtles. Everyone was/longing fora cup of hot coffee,

Page 189

180 : THE WIDE WORLD’ MAGAZINE. so we landed on a great cypress buttress and lit a fire. Alas for our hopes of hot supper! The water was just beginning to boil when the buttress, which was hollow, burnt through, and fire and kettle together fell hissing into the black water below. Worse still, the cypress trunk itself took fire, and we had to sheer off rapidly and tie up at some distance away. We had no means of cooking in the boat, and . » i ) ¢ a, ae still, dark water and sleeping forest. Bats and weird night-birds swooped above, and every now and then a great branch came crashing down into the river. We watched for an hour ‘or more, and then all of a sudden the blazing shell collapsed and fell with a hissing roar into the depths below, throwing up a wave that washed clean over our stern. We baled the boat out and tried to sleep, but “THE TRUNK WAS HOLLOW, AND THE FLAMES KUSHED UP IT WITH A LOUD ROAR.” made a miserable meal on biscuit and cheese. Meantime the fire had got a good hold on the cypress, and we were treated to a magnificent spectacle. The trunk of the ancient giant was hollow, like the buttress, and under the furious draught the flames rushed up it with a loud roar, spouting in crimson pennons from every knot-hole and throwing a red glare upon the an eighteen-foot boat is narrow quarters for four men, and to add to our miseries every mosquito and most of the sand-flies in South Florida had gathered to the feast, and we had no nets to protect us. We smoked till we could smoke no more ; then, cowering under the sail, slept a pain- ful, half-suffocated sleep till the first grey light of dawn, when we ate-a few biscuits and started

Page 190

SIX DAYS IN A SWAMP. 181 again. We passed one spot where it would have been possible to land and couok breakfast, but would not stop, so sure were we of reaching Clay Springs in time for midday dinner. But soon we struck raft after raft of lettuce, some so thick that every yard had to be pain- fully cut through with a brush-hook, and midday found us still in the Wekiva Channel, with no signs of the Clay Springs Run to be seen any- where. We became uneasy ; we began to fear that we had passed the mouth of the Run. ‘The trees were so thick and the blind channels so frequent that this was more than possible. If we had done so the outlook was serious. We had plenty of food of 4 kind, but. it was uncooked. You cannot eat flour, hominy, coffee, and bacon without cooking them. And though there was wood enough in sight to cook for a nation, there was no ground on which to light a fire. ‘The river was high for the time of year, and the water stretched back as far as we could sce into the impenetrable swamp on either side. The farther we went the worse the conditions became. ‘The river was so choked with lettuce that most of our time was spent painfully chopping our way through great floating islands. ‘The odour from the rotting masses was sicken- ing, and the river water, which was all we had to drink, was thick and filthy. Our surroundings were most depressing. Everywhere we beheld the gloomy cypresses rising out of a morass of mud and water, but no life except the brown water-snakes which writhed among the weeds, and the alligators and turtles that floated idly in the stagnant stream or lay on logs at the edge. No sound reached our ears save now and then the thunderous hammering of a great ivory-billed woodpecker somewhere far away in the forest. Towards five o’clock it began to rain—a thick, fine drizzle. ‘The sky grew rapidly dark, and we were finally forced to tie up toa log. This time we lit a small fire in our frying-pan and managed to toast a few slices of bacon, but we could not boil water to make coffee. Another night of misery passed slowly by. Bull alligators bellowed at intervals, and twice we were wakened by the long-drawn, piercing wail of a panther somewhere in the distance. A more creepy sound I never wish to hear. But we were all tired out, and slept at last even in spite of the mosquitoes. Morning dawned dull but fine. ‘There was-some talk among us of “trying back,” but it was at last decided to keep on. We felt sure that we were now a long way past the Clay Springs Run and hoped to reach the St. John’s before night. Vain hope! After hours of struggling with ever-increasing weeds we ran into a bank of slime which barted Tarther progress. ‘There was no need to inform one another what had happened. Somehow we had left the main stream, and, for how long none of us knew, had been working down a blind backwater! There was nothing for it but to go back. It was nearly three before we were certain that we were in the main stream again. The current was so nearly imperceptible that it was most difficult to avoid the innumerable blind channels. By this time we were all suffering from the effects of the putrid water, and Myers was really ill. , Fortunately 1 happened to have a bottle of Jamaica ginger with me, which proved invaluable. A third night approached and we had not the faintest idea where we were. Just before dark we ran into a tremendous bed of lettuce. Hall- way through it the boat’s bow struck something solid. It was a cypress log, lying just below the weed. ‘The boat had to be lifted over it, and the work fell to Marshall and myself. I shall never forget how supremely uncomfortable I felt as I stepped over the side and clung with my bare toes to the rounded, slimy log. We had seen scores of moccasins (poisonous water- vipers) in the weed beds. ‘There was more than a chance of treading on one of these sluggish, but deadly, reptiles. Or suppose I slipped! There was twelve feet of oily water below the log, and, once under the weed, the strongest swimmer in the world would be helpless. It took all our strength to lift the boat and slide her over the obstruction, but it was done at last, and just as it grew pitch-dark we cleared the lettuce and floated into a wide lagoon in which bull-frogs croaked dismally and every now and then a heavy fish rose with a sounding “plop!” Here we made another fruitless attempt to light a fire. By this time all the biscuits were gone, and we made a miserable meal of slices of bacon toasted on the embers in the frying pan. We were very thirsty, but only dared to drink a few drops of the brown, filthy water. The fourth morning found us much the worse for wear. Our faces were swollen out of all recognition by insect bites, and personally I had an ugly feeling of sinking weakn 3ut there was no use complaining —forward was the word, and we pulled on, taking fifteen-minute spells at the oars. Happily the weeds were not so thick, and our hopes rose. Suddenly the boat emerged from the endless arches of cypress; and their place was taken by

Page 191

182 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “IT TOOK ALL OUR STRENGTH TO LiFT THE BOAT AND SLIDE HER OVER THE OBSTRUCTION.” a forest of tall cabbage palmettoes. ‘The under- growth changed, too; it was as thick as ever, but not so lofty. Wild grape-vines matted it, anda flock of birds of the starling tribe rose and winged chattering across the water. Hurrah! Here was land at last! Mud, cer- tainly, and of the blackest character, but stilt firm enough to bear our weight. Joyfully we pulled ashore, but the brush was like a quick-set hedge. We had to chop a foothold before we could land. Franks was the first to leave the boat. An odd, whirring noise came from the thicket, and he sprang back hastily. Marshall snatched up a gun, and as the heavy report rolled down the silent river a five-foot diamond. rattler writhed in its death agony on the mud. “TI reckon that was close enough!” was all Myers said. We were too hungry and thirsty to mind even a rattlesnake, and in five minutes a fire was crackling. Our kettle was gone, but we boiled water in the frying-pan, and I never tasted anything so good as that first cup of scalding, milkless coffee, strongly flavoured as it was with smoke and bacon-grease. Then we set to work to cook some limpkin which we had shot the previous day. They are birds very like our moorhens and excellent eating. We devoured them half raw, and the next thing was to make bread, which we baked in our ever-useful frying- pan. We ate every bit of the first batch hot, and then cooked some more. After that we made up the fire and, sheltered from mosquitoes by its kindly smoke, lay and slept till past midday. We were different men when we woke, and ready for anything. We felt sure we could not now be far from the mouth of the river, so decided to push on at once. We had bread and cooked bacon for another twenty-four hours, and before that time we should certainly reach St. John’s. But our troubles were not yet over. A mile or two farther on the river split again into half a scere of channels. Twice we took a wrong one and wasted hours. Night caught us in a worse place than ever, and quite unable to find ground for a fire. The longing for hot coffez drove us to build a raft of logs and try to light a fire on this. It was most tedious work, for we were now again among cypresses, and their branches were high out of reach, so that we had to depend on floating stuff. But we persevered bravely, and at last got a tiny fire to burn. It was hardly started when with a sudden rush and hiss down splashed a heavy shower, wetting us to the skin and putting out the feeble blaze. Thereupon we crawled under the sail and ate dry bread and cold fried bacon. Next morning Myers had a bad attack of ague—‘chills and fever” as we call it in the South. We knew that we had to get him out of the pestilential air of the swamp or the con- sequences might be serious, especially as we had no quinine. We worked like ‘'rojans, and more by luck than good management kept the main channel. After a time the river grew narrower and deeper, and suddenly.I caught sight of a live

Page 192

SIX DAYS IN A SWAMP. 183 oak among the cypresses, and gave a howl of delight, for this tree was a sure sign of land. We pulled like furies, frightening scores of alligators, which rolled off the logs on which they had been lying basking and splashed into the dark brown water. Ten minutes later we were ashore on a very good imitation of solid ground. We slung up a heavy tackle. But the brute, whatever it was, was too much for him. With a sharp crack the line snapped in the middle. What the fish was we never knew, but there are cat-fish up to thirty pounds in these waters and bass up to fifteen. Filleted bream were already sizzling in the pan, and when we sat down to breakfast I verily “Wi PULLED LIKE FURIES, FRIGHTENING SCORES OF ALLIGATORS.” hammock, put Myers into it, and two of us began the serious business of cooking, while Marshall took a rod and set to work to fish. Those fish could never have seen a bait before. It was pure slaughter. First a three-pound black bass, then a great red-throated bream nearly as big as a dinner-plate, the choicest pan-fish in - Florida waters. ‘Then more bass, then a cat- fish, and next a great black, ugly, slimy mud- fish, weighing all of five pounds. In half an hour we had more than we knew what to do with ; but Marshall still kept on. Suddenly he gave a yell. “ Boys, here’s the father of all the fish !” Sure enough it was a monster! The stout bamboo bent double. There was no reel, so Marshall had to trust to the strength of his believe we finished three pounds of fish apiece. Even Myers revived enough to eat a little. Then, as in gorged contentment we lounged and pulled at our pipes, there suddenly resounded through the silent forest a deep, hoarse hoot. It was the whistle of the St. John’s River steamer t Our troubles were over at last. Next morning, after half an hour’s pulling, the cat-boat glided out upon the wide bosom of the St. John's. We hoisted our sail, and by nightfall had landed safely at Sanford, the head of the South Florida Railway, where we put our weary selves and our battered boat on the train and were carried rapidly homewards through the pine-forests and orange-groves,

Page 193

FMecerpen, The demand for frogs as articles of food has attained considerable proportions in America, and “ frog farms" have been started in various localities for the purpose of raising frogs for the market. In this article Mrs. Starr describes these extraordinary farms and their unusual “crops.” T is the generally -accepted belief that the French were the first people to remove the odium which attaches | to frogs as an article of diet. The Romans, however, were ahead of them—there is an obscure passage in Lucian, which declares that the gourmets of his day relished a roast /ricassée of frogs with a gusto like the Frenchman of to-day. For a long period the French people were the only ones to avail themselves of the delicate meat of the frog, but after a while the use of it passed into Germany and other parts of Europe, and thence into the United States, where it soon became a favourite dish. : The prejudice which formerly existed against frogs as an article of food was based, possibly, on their uncanny appearange, and heightened through their appropriation by witches and empirics for spells and love-potions and the cure of various diseases. ‘This has now virtually disappeared, and there are few gourmets in any part of the world who would not enjoy a dainty dish of fried frogs’ legs. Frogs must have been known as an article of dict in England as early as 1650, for Thomas Muffett writes of them thus: “ Being truly good in oyle, salt water, and vinegar, and eaten with sauce made of sweet herbs, onions, and scallions, they are no bad meet for colerick young men, though for old and phleg- matic persons they are wholly unprofitable.” The business of catching frogs for market in the United States was formerly carried on in a desultory sort of way, by boys in want of a little pocket-money, but within recent years the demand has become so great that it is carried on systematically in fifteen States and is, accord- ing to the report of the Fish Commissioner, an industry of great economic importance. As the unrestricted hunting of frogs—in spite of their remarkable fecundity—threatened their practical extinction wherever there were market and shipping facilities, sagacious people in various parts of the country soon set about experimenting and arranging to propagate them artificially. Mr. Richard Stegg, of West Berkeley, California, has been one of the most successful pioneers in this direction. His froggery, or frog farm, is the oldest, though not the only one, in the State, and his manner of conducting it is decidedly interesting. Mr. Stegg has four large ponds, which are

Page 194

FROG FARMS. 185 i ; a comparatively Pedd F large “crop” of frogs. When wanted for mar- ket, they are caught alive at night with the aid of torch-light, and confined in small pens that can be easily drained. In the various localities — where frogs are hunted in the natural state they are taken in a variety of ways, the most common — being with lines baited with pieces of red flannel; From a) ONE OF THE PONDS AT MR. STEGG'S FROG FARM, ATUWRST BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA. [Photo. worms and in- sects are also carefully drained, and walled in with masonry used. They are a hungry race, always ready, to guard against overflow. He secured some of — apparently, for what they can get, making short the finest specimens of frogs from Colorado and work of small fishes, all kinds of reptiles, and Florida and turned them loose in the ponds to cross with the native Cali-_ fornian stock. One of these ponds is shown in the above photograph. The creatures live in a state of nature, foraging for themselves, their condition being in no wise changed, except that they are confined within the limits of the four ponds. When wanted they are caught without trouble with small nets or scoops, or the water is drawn off and they are taken out by hand. ‘The next picture shows one of the frog-farmer’s assistants scooping up frogs to fill a small order. ‘Two women in California have been operating a frog farm very successfully for several years, but they utterly refuse to “give away” any particulars con- cerning their very unusual feminine business venture. Mr. J. V. N. Yates, a well-known society man of Cleveland, Ohio, also experimented with a frog farm planted in a large swamp in South Brooklyn, a suburb of Cleveland, but for some reason gave it up after two years’ trial. One of the most successful of the older frog farms is that of Mr. J. F. Sauve, in the Trent River Basin, On- tario. It has been in operation for about twenty years and annually yields Vol. xviii — 24. Fron a) SCOOFING UP FROGS-TO FILL A SMALL ORDER.

Page 195

186 E THE WIDE even snakes; this voraciousness accounts for their being fooled with red woollen bait. The photograph reproduced below shows a juvenile frog- hunter on the Delaware Flats angling with this favourite bait. During the frog season whole regiments of boys may be seen along the Jersey marshes, each one with a line and red flannel bait to catch the toothsome batra- chian. Other hunters use guns and small- bore rifles, and when a boy has no other implement he will seize a stone and stun the frog with it. In Canada spears and cross-bows are more frequently employed. The greatest fun is going frog-hunting at night with lanterns; the light blinds or dazes the frogs, and the hunters have little or no trouble in making large catches. Many of the negro street-boys of New Jersey make regular excursions out to the marshes for frog-hunting. At first it was only fun for the boy, but death to the frog ; it is death to the frog just the same nowadays, but there is a good profit attached to the boy’s fun. In the basin of the St. Francis River, in Missouri and Arkansas, where the business is important, frogs are captured by means of WORLD From a) MAGAZINE. ANOTHER METHOD OF CATCHING FROGS. (Photo. spears, with lines at the ends of long rods, and with firearms. In the early part of the season, when the frogs retire to the mud during the cool nights and only appear on warm, bright days, they are taken on hooks and shot with guns and rifles. Later the bulk of the catch is made at night by means of spears with one to three barbed prongs. Two men usually hunt together in a boat, one rowing, ° the other standing in the bow with spear and a large reflector made especially for the purpose. A well-developed pair of these frogs weigh about half a pound. It is popularly supposed that the consumption of frogs is much larger in France than in any other part of the world, but this is not the case. The American tasted the frog and found it good, and he has continued to eat it until authoritative investigations show that he consumes ten times as many frogs as are eaten in France. A reliable authority declares that the yearly cost of frogs and frogs’ legs to the consumers in America is not less than a hundred and fifty thousand dollars,

Page 196

THE GARO’S OATH: A Strange Tale of the Assam Hills. By C. E. Goutpssury, Lare OF THE INDIAN POLICE. The author writes: ‘This remarkable story is based on an incident which is absolutely true. It was related to me by a brother-officer in whose district the affair happened, and who investigated the facts in his official capacity.” =F all the curious races of mankind by whom the vast Empire of India is peopled there are few more strange or interesting than the Garos of Assam. Living in the seclusion of their isolated villages, scattered here and there amid the low, densely-wooded hills which bear their name, this strange, semi-savage tribe of demon-worshippers have retained to this day many of their primitive traits and superstitions. Amongst their extraordinary traditions, and -one that forms the subject of this tale, is the belief that if a Garo tells a falsehood he will meet with a sudden and violent death. So strictly do they adhere to this belief that a Garo, if required to take an oath, will solemnly say, “ May I be killed by a wild elephant if I do not speak the truth !” Many years ago there lived in one of the lonely villages above - mentioned a Garo maiden remarkable for her beauty and fascination. Michni, for so this village belle was named, was the daughter of a man of no importance, and poor withal, even for a Garo; but this in no way detracted from the number of her admirers, which included half the bachelor population of the village. Amongst them was her cousin Pembu, a good - looking, stalwart youth, who had long loved her with all the fervour of his wild and st -% a ord From a) ardent nature. The girl returned his love as un-~ grudgingly as it was bestowed, for, added to his comely face and manly bearing, Pembu was possessed of many other virtues calculated to win a savage maiden’s heart. He could shoot an arrow farther and with truer aim than any youth or veteran in the village, and was, more- over, a bold and successful hunter, while in Tunning, jumping, wrestling, and such-like feats of strength there was none to equal him. THE AUTHOR, MR. C. E, GOU! ‘THE INDIAN POL! But Pembu had a rival, and a very dangerous one—no less a person than the headman’s son. Kishto, the youth in question, was one of the so- called “enlightened ” type of Garo, an educated: savage, despising his less-cultured brethren and holding in contempt the ancient traditions of his race. This man had long cherished a ‘secret affec- tion for the pretty Michni, and had once been rash enough to declare his passion, an indis- cretion which cost him many hours of bodily pain and mental torture, for the girl had complained to her lover, who, mad with fury, had sought out the offender and administered so severe a castigation that the wretched youth was laid up for a month, Now Kishto, being of poor physique and of a cowardly disposition, dared not retaliate in kind, but none the less resented the treatment he had. re- ceived, and swore openly to be avenged. ‘Though lack- ing physical strength and pluck, he was shrewd and cunning to a degree, and it was not long before he had devised a scheme which promised to give him the revenge he thirsted for, and also the possession of the girl. Among the few friends he had in the village was a mean-spirited creature like himself, a man who was also ill-disposed towards Pembu. Finding this individual ready and willing to aid him in his evil project, Kishto resolved to carry it out at once. A few paces from the hut where Pembu lived was one occupied by a money-lender, an old and feeble man, who lived alone. By reason of the extortionate rate of interest he demanded he was not a very popular person in the village. One morning, shortly after Kishto and his + accommodating friend had arranged their little scheme, a villager going to the old usurer’s hut SRURY, LATE OF (Photo. -

Page 197

188 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. to reclaim some jewellery he had pledged was horrified to find him lying dead inside. At once he raised an outcry, and soon the whole village had collected. Amongst the first to arrive upon the scene was the headman, who, by virtue of his position, was legally bound to hold an investigation. He ascertained that the old man had been stabbed through the heart, the motive for the crime being evidently plunder, for not a “HE WAS HORKIFIE single coin or ornament was to be found inside the hut. The murderer had left no clue of any kind behind him, and but for a suggestion made by the astute Kishto it is unlikely that any great effort would have been made to trace him. The wily youth, who“had evinced the keenest interest in the proceedings, now suggested that the huts of all persons living in the immediate vicinity should be searched. This suggestion was no sooner made than it was carried out, and, commencing with the nearest, the searchers reached Pembu’s hut, where, carefully concealed inside the thatching of the roof, was found a blood-stained knife and two silver anklets. A death-like silence greeted this discovery, for Pembu was beloved by all, and none could believe him guilty of so cruel and dastardly an act as the murder of the old usurer. TO FIND HIM LYING DEAD INSIDE.” But appearances were certainly against him. The knife was undoubtedly his, the one he always used, made for him by his friend the village smith ; the anklets, too, were recognised by two women present, who had pledged them with the money-lender a week or two before. It was a terrible position for the unfortunate youth. With such convincing evidence of his guilt before their eyes, how was it possible for his friends to believe him innocent of the crime? It is true he had missed his knife some days before, but, unfortunately, had made no mention of the fact; and to do so now, he felt, was useless. Still, his was not a nature to be easily cast down, and looking at the sea of faces pressing round him, with sorrow and sympathy depicted on them all, he was encouraged to make an effort. “My friends,” he began, in a voice trembling with emotion, “I am not guilty of this crime. Why should I slay the poor old man, who has never done me harm? It is true the knife that killed him belongs to me; it is useless to deny the fact, for it is well known to all of you. But how it came here is more than I can say. It was stolen from me some days ago, and the man who stole it is the murderer. The anklets I know nothing of. I will not say more, for how is it possible for me to prove my innocence to you? But you’ all know and respect our ancient Garo oath, and I will repeat it in your presence.” ‘Then, in deep, solemn tones, he repeated the well- known words: “May I be killed by a wild elephant if what I have said is false!” As Pembu concluded this simple, manly speech a murmur of applause arose from the assembled multitude, and more than one voice was raised on his behalf. In spite of the terrible evidence against him, there was now scarcely a man present who believed him guilty of the crime, more especially amongst the elders, the men on whose verdict his liberty, perhaps his life, depended. With all the traditions of their race still strong within them, these Garos of the older school dared not ignore a statement made on such an oath, and were about to pronounce in favour of the youth when, at this critical moment, there was a sudden movement in the crowd, and a man, forcing~his way, through, called

Page 198

THE GARO'S OATH. 189 1 Sees 00%. Wrenn “HE REPEATED THE WELL-KNOWN WORDS: ‘MAY I BE KILLED BY A WILD ELEPHANT IF WHAT I HAVE SAID IS FALSE |** out that he had some important evidence to give. He said that on the previous night, as he was passing the old man’s hut, he had seen Pembu come quickly out of it carrying something in his hand—a knife, it looked like. Finding himself discovered, he had run into the jungle. Con- cluding his statement, the man swore to it on the customary oath. In a moment the whole attitude of the people changed as if by magic. Here was conclusive evidence of Pembu’s guilt, aggravated a hun- dred-fold in their eyes by his sworn denial of the crime. Some suggested that he should be stoned to death at once; others, that he be bound and cast into the jungle to be dealt with by the beast whose vengeance he had so auda- ciously invoked. For a time it seemed as if the last suggestion would be carried out at once; indeed, the headman and his colleagues found some difficulty in preventing it. However, the influence of the former finally prevailed, and after promising the infuriated crowd that justice would be done he gave orders for Pembu to be arrested. The next morning, with his arms tightly bound behind him, and escorted by a gang of his fellow-villagers, with the exultant Kishto at their head, the unhappy Pembu was sent into Tura, the head-quarters of the district, to stand his trial for the murder. The journey was a long and perilous one, through dense jungle infested with wild elephants and dangerous beasts of every kind. or these children of Nature, however, as wild and savage as the beasts themselves, these animals had no terrors. Familiarity had bred, if not contempt, at least indifference, and they gave no thought to the dangers that surrounded them. Yet there was one amongst them visibly less callous than the rest. This man, when a herd of elephants once crossed the path, had quailed and sought the shelter of a tree. His comrades, noticing this, jecred at him, but little they guessed the real cause of his alarm. The prisoner had noticed it too, and recognised in the skulking wretch the man who had sworn falsely on the sacred oath; and a ray of light shot through Pembu’s clouded brain as he remembered that this was the friend of Kishto, whom he had so severely chastised, and who had sworn to be avenged ! All that had seemed a mystery was made clear to him now. The stolen knife and the anklets concealed within his roof—all was explained ; the whole affair was a vile plot of Kishto’s to bring about his ruin! But what availed this discovery to him now? How was he to prove his own innocence, much less place the responsi- bility for the crime on those he now knew were guilty of it? It was true that he had heard that their white rulers at ‘Tura were both merciful and just, but would they believe his unsupported word in the face of such evidence as would be brought against him? No; it was impossible that they could! ~~Then his thoughts turned to

Page 199

19d THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Michni, the brave, true-hearted girl, who had stood by him throughout. What would be her fate, once in the power of his relentless rival? ‘The very thought of her position was agony to him, and, yielding to despair, he burst into a flood of tears. Travelling all day, the party arrived by night- fall at a small clearing in the forest, and decided to encamp there for the night. ‘Uhey lost little time in preparations, but, making a hasty meal off the provisions they had brought, secured their prisoner to a tree and laid themselves down to sleep. One of their number, told off to guard the prisoner, watched by the fire awhile, but, tired and sleepy as the rest, he, too, was soon asleep. Pembu would fain have followed his example, but the pain of his bonds, added to the mental torture he endured, kept him awake. He might easily have escaped ; in- deed, the idea occurred to him—but where was he to go? Hour after hour drag- ged wearily on; the fire, uncared for, had burnt slowly down, its dying embers casting a faint and ghost-like light upon the scene. Save for the deep breathing of the sleeping men, there was not: a sound to break the silence of the night, and the lonely prisoner, yielding to the influence of his surroundings, at last dropped off to sleep. It was a curious sight, this group of unarmed, helpless men __ sleeping peacefully in that dense, trackless forest, all un- mindful of the dangers that encompassed them —all but one, who, pre- ferring a safer spot, had selected a small grass- grown mound some six feet high. ‘The night went by, and the first grey light of dawn was showing faintly through the trees when suddenly a succession of sharp, clear notes, as of a trumpet sounding the alarm, broke the death- like stillness, The sleepers started to their feet and listened. Again that dreaded sound was heard, now much nearer. Then, ere the last note of it had ceased, a huge elephant emerged into the open. With trunk upraised and ears pricked forward he paused awhile, trying to locate the spot whence proceeded the scent he had detected. Then with a savage scream of rage he charged down upon the help- less group. But they had anticipated the attack and, before the furious beast could span the distance that divided them, had already gained the shelter of the trees. There was no one left but Pembu and the trembling wretch upon the mound. ‘The former, lying bound and helpless’ within the shadow of the tree, remained un- noticed. Not so the other, who, paralyzed with fear, made no attempt to escape. Perched on “SEIZING THE WRETCHED MAN WITH ITS. TRUNK IT OASHED) HIMCTO THE GROUND.”

Page 200

THE GARO’S OATH. lot the summit of the mound he was a conspicuous object, even in that uncertain light, and the infuriated elephant sighted him at once. In a stride or two it had reached the mound and, seizing the wretched man with its trunk, dashed him to the ground, placed one huge foot upon his chest, and fairly tore him to pieces, limb by limb! His comrades, ‘watching the awful spectacle from their retreat, were powerless to assist him, and it was not until the savage beast had completed its ghastly work and moved away that they ventured to come out. The sight they then beheld was one to fill the stoutest heart with terror, for there at their feet lay all that was left of their late comrade --a shapeless mass of flesh and broken bones. They gazed at the terrible spectacle in speechless horror; then one of them pointed to the prisoner, still lying where they had left him, but unharmed ! ‘The others read his meaning in the gesture, and wondered, too, why he ofall others had been spared --the murderer and violator of the sacred oath, who had so well merited the vengeance of the dreaded beast. Kishto wondered, too, but for many different reasons — reasons which filled him with dire alarm, despite his vaunted scepticism and con- tempt for the traditions of his race. ‘The inci- dent had wrought an extraordinary change in the man. He was no longer mindful of the prisoner, but, starting at every rustle of a leaf, looked anxiously around, as if expecting the elephant to return and claim another victim. His companions could not but notice ‘this sudden change, but attributed it to the tragic death of his friend. Collecting their belongings they unfastened Pembu from the tree and all proceeded on their way. “IN THIS HUMBLE POSTURE HE RELATED THE TRUE STORY OF THR CRIME.” By midday they arrived at Tura and took the prisoner to the court. Kishto, who by this time had regained his ordinary composure, was now directed to state his case. Refusing with scorn to take the Garo oath, he was sworn in the ordinary way and proceeded with his tale. He told his story well until he reached the incident in the clearing, but here he faltered and seemed unable to proceed. Looking helplessly around the court, his eye fell on the prisoner gazing at him accusingly ; in an instant the expression of his face changed, and, apparently obeying a sudden impulse, he threw himself at the magistrate’s feet and begged to be forgiven. Then rising to his knees he placed his hands together, and in this humble posture related the true story of the crime. He told how he and his friend had planned the murder, and how the latter had stabbed the old man, while he slept, with Pem- bu’s_ knife, which they had previ- ously secured. ‘They had con- cealed it and the anklets in the roof of Pembu’s_ hut, and then falsely accused him of the murder. They would have sworn away his life but for the vengeance of the gods, which had so promptly overtaken his accomplice. Kishto then went on to describe the terrible scene he had witnessed in the forest, and how the recollection of it had haunted him, and ultimately forced him to confess the share he had taken in the crime. Trembling, he paused awhile ; then, as if impetled by some feeling he was powerless to resist, he repeated the ancient oath he had just so scornfully rejected. Pembu and his sweetheart were duly wedded, while the villainous Kishto was hanged for the murder of the old money-lender. And in that little village amid the forest-clad hills the Garo’s oath is held more sacred than ever.

Page 201

TRACKING THE WIRE- THIEVES. A SECRET-SERVICE AGENT’S STORY. Top By Captain H. H. Bowen ann Set Down py FREDERICK A. TALBOT. For years the great American telegraph and telephone companies had been losing large sums of money through the depredations of audacious criminals, who night after night cut the lines and decamped with tons of valuable wire. All endeavours to locate and capture these will-o’-the-wisp rascals failed, and at last, in despair, the companies turned to a well-known secret-service agent, Captain H. H. Bowen. How he handled the perilous and difficult mission assigned to him is told in the exciting narrative below. OR some years the various American telegraph and telephone companies whose wires extend through the wild and sparsely - populated districts of Pennsylvania and New _ Jersey suffered considerable losses and inconvenience through thefts of their wires, which were ruth- Nearly every lessly stripped from the poles. night some part or other of the systems, extending for over one hun- dred miles, was disorganized. A large staff of emer- gency men had to be retained, and it was only by dint of Herculean efforts on their part that the lines could be replaced ina single day, only to be stolen again in the course of a few nights. When it is remembered that on the trunk routes the poles carry as many as eighty or more different wires, the extent of the disorganization of the service and the inconvenience caused by lack of communication owing to the pilfering of the wires will be understood. The methodical manner in which the depredations were carried out and the scale upon which the nefarious operations were conducted —many miles of poles being sometimes bared during a single night—- pointed conclusively to the fact that a well- organized and expert gang of thieves was at work. Elaborate traps were set in the hope of catch- ing the robbers, but without avail ; they seemed veritable will-o’-the-wisps. One night they would NH. H. BOWEN, WHO HERE TELLS THIEVE decamp with a ton or two of wire obtained where the lines ran through a lonely wood in Penn- sylvania ; the next evening they repeated their operations some seventy miles or more distant. Under these circumstances, in order to catch the thieves the lines would have had to be patrolled day and night at every half-mile or so, and considering the enormous mileage that had to be so protected such a system was quite out of the question, owing to the prohibitive cost that would have been entailed. The companies were losing several hundred pounds’ worth of wire every week, not to men- tion the losses in revenue arising from disorganized services. At last things came to such a pass that, in despair, one of the leading organizations enlisted the services of Captain H. H. Bowen, a well-known secret-service agent of New York, who has effected several clever captures of expert criminals for the Government and other authorities in various parts of the American continent. The story of how this intrepid and resourceful human sleuth-hound tracked down the whole gang of wire-thieves and handed them over to justice in the course of a few months, and thereby ridded the tele- graph and telephone companies of their bitterest foes, is here set forth as he related it to the writer, forming a fascinating romance of real life, full of exciting incidents. HOW HE TRACKFD DOW

Page 202

TRACKING THE WIRE- THIEVES. 193 It was on the 1st of May, 1903, that I received an urgent summons from the manager of one of the leading telephone and telegraph companies in New York. At our interview he described at great length the operations of the wire-thieves, and showed me the points at which the thefts occurred, giving details of the extent of the company’s losses, which in the aggregate amounted to many thousands of pounds yearly. ‘They had succeeded in catching a few thieves, he told me, but as these men were only working upon a small scale it was apparent to me that these catches were insignificant, and that such crimi- nals were mere tyros at the game. The favourite scene of the depredations was the seventy-mile stretch upon the trunk line between Trenton, the capital of New Jersey, on the Delaware River, and the small town of Westchester, in Pennsylvania. Between these two points the company found it practically impossible to main- tain a line intact for any length of time, and the thieves always made a good haul. At times their operations were unusually severe, for they did not hesitate to fell the heavy posts by sawing them off at the bottom, thereby bringing a hundred or more wires to the ground at one stroke. I discussed the subject at great length ° with the manager, pointing out the numerous difficulties in the way, and that the task of bringing them to book would be a costly one. “Look here, Mr. Bowen,” he replied, impulsively, “I don’t care about the cost. This game has got to be stopped, and you must do it. Never mind the ex- pense ; go straight ahead and catch the thieves at all hazards, dead or alive.” With these instructions I left him, but I realized only too well that to catch these gentry was easier said than done. How- ever, accompanied by two trusty and skilful lieutenants, “ Buck” and “ Jim,” I started on the trail. First of all we went down to the poor quarters of New York city and acquired some old clothes, worn, dirty, and threadbare, in which we made ourselves up as tramps or “hoboes.” So complete was this disguise that friends we met failed to recognise us. In this garb we stole into the Pennsyl- vania Railway terminus, and secreted ourselves on a train outward bound for Philadelphia. ‘These stealthy manceuvres were necessary, since we did not wish anyone whatsoever to know our real identity, and, moreover, they were quite in keeping with our assumed character as tramps. Arrived at Philadelphia, we Vol. xviii. —25. boarded a goods train bound for Norristown, on the Schuylkill River, fifteen miles east of Phila- delphia, hiding ourselves in one of the wagons. I selected this town as the starting-point of our quest because there are a number of smelting works in the vicinity, while at the same time it swarms with junk-shops (marine stores), which would be the most likely places at which the wire-thieves could dispose of their ill-gotten gains, for many of these junk-dealers are most unscrupulous men, and would not be likely to ask questions when ‘the wire was brought to them so long as they could drive a good bargain. The junk-men can easily sell their unlawful wares to the smelters after melting them down, so that a ton or two of wire would be in the foundries within an hour or so of being stripped from the poles, and consequently the thieves were quite immune from any in- criminating evidences of their work.

Page 203

194 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. We hung about Norristown for five months. During this time I ferreted out every band of thieves I could hear of, and associated with them in the hope of obtaining some information upon which I could work. Being thoroughly acquainted with the habits and vernacular of these gentry, I was able to mix with them in complete security, while the perfection of my disguise rendered my being recognised a very remote contingency. During the night “ Buck,” “Jim,” and myself would leave the town and prowl about the woods through which the wires passed on the chance of catching some thieves red-handed. Every day I rang up the manager in New York to inquire if any robberies had been committed during the previous night, and more often than not I learned that the gang had been at work, but at a point some miles distant from where I was patrolling. We would then hasten to the scene of the crime and thoroughly search the vicinity, hoping thereby to gain some clue, no matter how slight. But it was of no use, the criminals were too smart, and I was baffled at every turn. I then requested the manager to dispatch me a portable telephone, so that I could tap the wires wherever and whenever I desired. This equipment was contained in a small box about six inches square by four inches deep, carrying the batteries and a transmitter, which, when placed to the ear, acted as receiver as well. Connected to the instrument was fifty feet of flexible wiring, carrying two clamps at the opposite end for attachment to the overhead wires. In order to establish communication one of my companions simply swarmed up a pole and secured the clips to the wires. Being small and compact the installation could be easily carried over the shoulder on a strap without exciting attention. With this telephone I was practically in touch with the New York authorities all night. For two months we tramped about the country in this way without result, and you can imagine my disgust when more than once while I was talking 1 was suddenly “cut off” owing to the thieves having severed the wire over which I was communicating, showing that they were busy at that very instant, but at a point too far away for me to come up with them. At such times 1 became fairly enraged. Here were the rogues at work, but out of my reach ! When I had been seven months at work without making any progress I realized that in order to accomplish anything some legal restraint, would have to be imposed upon the junk-men to prevent them melting down stolen wire imme- diately they received it, Accordingly I got hold of all the telegraph, telephone, and railway com- panies — the latter also suffered severely from thefts of brass journals—and by dint of great effort we secured the passing of a law whereby it was made a criminal offence for any junk-man to purchase wire or brass without making the fullest inquiries as to its origin, and securing the names and addresses of the venders, while at the same time the junk-men, under the pain of a severe penalty, were compelled to keep all such purchases in a separate and distinct pile for not less than thirty days before disposing of it to the smelters. By the enforcing of this enactment the companies were able to place a formidable obstacle in the way of the thieves, though, of course, there were a few “fences” who regarded the law with a blind eye, but these were closely watched. My assistants and I now abandoned the tramp and thief disguise and blossomed out as fully-fledged junk-men, our shop being on the outskirts of Philadelphia, in a disreputable district which constituted an ideal situation for obtaining such illicit goods. During the day “ Jim” minded the shop, while ‘ Buck” and I, with a shady-looking wagon and horse, quite in consonance with our supposed character, drove through the surrounding country buying wire and metal. This procedure brought but scant success, for I found that would-be customers were suspicious. They plied me with all sorts of questions to ascertain the extent of my trade, and when they found I did not possess a “retort” in which to melt down the metal they closéd up like oysters. I saw that to run the junk-shop on the requisite scale would be an expensive undertaking, as I should have to buy largely and still might not accomplish any decisive end. Once more baffled, I sold the junk-shop and returned to New York with my companions ; but though so far defeated I was more determined than ever to bring the miscreants to book. After much cogitation I formulated a new and totally different plan of campaign. ‘This I laid before the manager. When I had explained my scheme he rose to his feet and remarked, emphatically, “That is the best method of catching these thieves that I have yet heard of. We give you carte blanche. Remember, you have got to lay these scoundrels by the heels at all costs. If you want anything simply ’phone to us and it shall be dispatched immediately.” Thereupon, in company with my lieutenants T returned to Norristown. We were now osten- sibly prosperous farmers, and settled on a small estate five miles out of the town, on the line of the company’s wires. We laid ina large stock of necessary implements, and we went in for agriculture with all our_might—at least, so the

Page 204

TRACKING THE WIRE- THIEVES. neighbours thought. As a matter of fact I was simply putting my plan of campaign into action. I purchased the fastest and most powerful mustang I could procure, and had the animal shod with rubber shoes, so that in travelling over the quiet roads at night our approach could not be heard: I also secured a light runabout car, likewise equipped with rubber tyres. This I placed in a small barn, while the harness was slung up in such a manner that it could be dropped on to the horse in a moment in the same way as in fire stations, the horse itself being kept partially harnessed so that we could get away in the shortest space of time. Then, one dark night, the three of us went off to the nearest railway station and brought back a large, mysterious - looking box. This contained five hun- dred feet of lead cable, with twenty - five wires running through it. The cable was about three- quarters of an inch in thickness. On the first dark and favourable night we connected this cable with the wires passing before our farm, running the line up the post on the side away from the road so that it could not be seen from the latter. We had to carry out this operation with great circum- spection, since we were only respectable farmers, and for aught we knew our neighbours might have been engaged in the nefarious wire-stealing traffic. Four of the wires in the cable were connected to those on the lower arms of the poles, and eight of the remaining wires to the uppermost arms, as the post carried fifty lines. We then dug a trench across the road and up to the house, in which we laid the rest of the cable, so that we were in constant touch with the service both east and west of the pole. Another huge box, labelled ‘ Pickaxes,” was then fetched from the railway station. In reality, however, the case contained all the necessary appliances for a telephone station. ‘This was speedily erected, and we were thus able to tap the line and listen whenever we desired, and also to ring up any station. If, therefore, the line was cut to the east of us the operator at the station to the west could immediately inform us at what point com- munication had been severed. We also purchased three double-barrelled From a) CAPTAIN BOWEN’S TRAP, WITH THE HARNESS SLUNG UP IN SUCH A MANNEK THAT IT COULD BE DROPPED ON TO THE HORSE IN A MOMENT, 195 shot-guns, for I knew only too well that should + we come upon the thieves while at their work they would not hesitate to shoot. A During my long months of work I had ascer- tained one notable circumstance. The crimes were never committed on a wet night, as the electricity in the wires would have given the thieves a severe shock on such occasions. They invariably selected a pitch-dark or foggy evening for their operations. It was the night of the 6th of December. The darkness was so intense that it could almost be felt, and it was impossible to see more than a foot or two in front of one. Suddenly the tele- phone began to work ; we were being called up ! I jumped to the in- strument while my lieu- tenants crowded round, anxious for the fray. “Wire down east,” was the laconic message. We waited for no further par- ticulars, but snatched up our rifles, grabbed what clothing was handy, and rushed to the stable. In less time than it takes to tell we had the horse in the trap. I took the reins, with my rifle across my knees, and “Jim” and “Buck” both had their guns ready. The thermometer was hover- ing round zero, so that the cold was bitter, and to add to our discomforts we had rushed away so hurriedly that we had left part of our clothes behind. The darkness, too, was so intense that we could not see the road, but we tore along blindly at breakneck speed. We had covered ten miles and were still galloping forward when there was a crash; the horse leaped forward and fell to the ground, and we were all pitched out of the wagon and flung in different directions. Scrambling to our feet we found that we had collided with a “guy,” or supporting cable, used to hold a post in position. The wire stretched across the road, and was anchored on the opposite bank to the stump of a telegraph post about three feet in height. Owing to the darkness we had not observed it, and had collided with it close to the lower end. My companions were unhurt, but I had sustained a broken wrist. As for the horse, it had broken its leg, so that we killed the poor beast on the spot. “Climb the pole and tap the wire!” I cried (Photo.

Page 205

196 | THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “WE WERE ALL PITCHED OUT OF THE WAGON AND FLUNG IN DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS.” to “Jim,” at the same time fetching out my portable telephone. ‘Cut in wires five and six.” All the wires, I should explain, are laid in pairs, wires five and six being at the top of the pole, and I deduced that if the robbers were still at work they would cut the lower wires first, and might not have severed the top wires. “Get on to the Philadelphia station,” I cried ; and “Jim” at once told them of our plight. I thought that, perhaps, in our haste and owing to the darkness we might have passed the spot where the wires were down. ‘To my relief I found we were all right, and that the “cut” was four and a quarter miles farther on. Seizing our rifles and equipment we set off on foot, I bandaging my wrist as I went, though it was giving me intense pain. We ran rather than walked, and in the dim light of the dawn soon discovered, by the slack wires, that we were approaching the spot where the line had been severed. Owing to the fact that these wires—which are about as thick as a lead- pencil and weigh four hundred and thirty-five pounds to the mile—are stretched taut by a horse pulling at the end when they are erected, when the tension is released the effect is visible for some three-quarters of a mile from the actual point of severance. We had abandoned all hope now of catching the thieves, but had the accident not occurred I think we should have caught them red-handed. When we at last reached the scene of their

Page 206

TRACKING THE WIRE-THIEVES. 197 operations we found that fifty wires had been removed for a distance of two hundred and forty feet. ‘The work is carried out in this way : One man climbs the pole and cuts the wires with pliers on both sides of it, an operation which occupies about three minutes. He then slides down the pole, misses the next one, and similarly cuts the wires on either side of the following pole. This operation is repeated as far as they deem advisable, the wires dangling down on either side of each alternate pole. Another operator meanwhile gathers the fifty wires together with a piece of thicker wire into a bunch at the base of the pole, and then, by means of what is known as a bolt-cutter, reaches up as high as he can and severs the wires, leaving about eight feet dangling from the cross- pieces of the pole. When this is done, another confederate hurriedly coils the wire up and throws it into a waiting wagon. Owing to the speed with which they work and the skilful manner in which their operations are carried out, quite a long stretch of wires can be devastated in a very few minutes, and the men are so wary that they do not essay to steal too much at one time, being content with about one ton of wire a night. Although the thieves had succeeded in getting away, they had left the trail of their wagon on the frozen soil. We found the spot where the vehicle had been waiting—shown by the oats lying on the ground where the horse had been feeding—and followed the wagon trail to Philadelphia, but when the city was reached we. were brought to a standstill, as the tell-tale soil gave way to cobble-stones, so that all trace was lost. We thereupon retraced the trail back to the scene of the robbery, and found that in the meantime the authorities had dispatched a gang of men to repair the line. You may imagine the time and trouble effected in replacing the stolen wire when I tell you that it took eight men the whole day, without any stoppages for meals, to get that line into working order again. Finding that I could do nothing further, I returned to the farm with my _ lieutenants and awaited the next call, in the meantime obtaining a new horse to replace that which we had shot after the spill. The call came on December 16th, the thieves having laid low for some time after our raid ten days before. This time they cut the wires thirty-five miles west of us, and as it was quite out of the question for us to reach the spot in time by travel- ling across country I waited until the next day, when we boarded a train and carefully surveyed the ground in the vicinity of the robbery. I immediately recognised the handi- work of the same gang that had carried out the previous theft. On this occasion, how- ever, I succeeded in obtaining a distinct clue, which, though apparently slight, proved of inestimable value to me subsequently in running the gang to earth and connecting them with various wire robberies. In the snow was the print of a horseshoe. It was that of the left hind foot of the animal, and was of peculiar design. I made careful inquiries and ascer- tained that such a print would be caused by a horse having what is known as “leather” on the shoe. At this juncture I got into communica- tion with another telephone company, who had experienced considerable trouble with wire- thieves. There had been a robbery on their system near the small town of Conshohocken, in Pennsylvania, a village boasting only some four hundred inhabitants, and an ideal spot for wire robberies. It did not take me long to discover that the same gang had been at work here. Shortly after my return to my farm station, on December 2oth, I was again “rung up” and told that the line was in trouble at the small village of King of Prussia, a secluded, straggling place of fifty inhabitants, about fourteen miles south of Conshohocken. The three of us set off post-haste, covering the fourteen miles from the latter place in the short time of forty-five minutes. ‘This was a thrilling adventure, for we actually came upon the gang at work, Unfortu- nately we were baulked by the darkness, but we were so hot on the robbers’ track that they had not time to pick up the wire before they fled, and we found it scattered over the road. The same peculiarities were noticeable in connection with the methods adopted here as I had observed in the previous cases; and so, slowly but surely, I was forging the links which finally resolved themselves into an incontestable chain of evidence. I had scarcely reached my farm again when J received another call, and was told that over fifteen hundred pounds of wire had been stolen from a barn on the route of a new line from Philadelphia to Doylestone. I promptly travelled to the spot where the line was being erected, and followed it until I gained the barn from which the wire had been purloined. It was the work of the same gang, undoubtedly. ‘They were evidently now becoming very busy, and were in their favourite neighbourhood, this barn being only ten miles from my farm. T sought out the owner of this barn and sub- mitted him to a searching examination. In reply to my inquiries as to whether he had seen any strangers in the neighbourhood, he stated that on the day previous to the robbery he had

Page 207

198 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. noticed a man who was quite a stranger to the locality. “A young man?” I ventured. “Yes, not more than twenty-one years of age, of very stocky build, with light hair,” he replied. “He was wearing a light soft hat and was dressed in blue overalls, as if he were an engineer.” “And his companion ?” I remarked, casually, though I was no more certain of the fact that he was accompanied than the man in the moon; but I thought it was just as well to make out I knew all about it. “He was a negro, about five feet four inches in height. I noticed him sitting ona fence near the barn.” “Have you seen the white man before ?” The farmer scratched his head — thought- fully. “Ves,” he drawled, at. last; “T think I saw him on my neighbour’s farm about six months ago. jut I tell you what,” he added, suddenly ; “you can easily find out all about him for yourself, for he is now at work on a farm at Colston, about three © Sy * the man was here.” i alten a NI in Sati, OK now thoroughly This was just “WE THEREFORE FORCED HIM INTO THE RUNAHOUT.” frightened, yet IT was certain he would: not hesitate to throw us over by hook or by crook, and it was imperative for the success of my plans that the rest of the gang should not know that one of their number was under arrest. We therefore forced him into the runabout, with “ Buck” and “Jim” guarding him, while I took the reins. We quickly reached the spot where the wire

Page 208

TRACKING THE WIRE- THIEVES. was concealed, and recovered it ; then, after telling “ Buck” to take it back to the barn from which it was purloined and mark it for identification in case the thieves should pay another visit, “ Jim ” and I set off for the county jail. No news concerning the arrest had got abroad, so that “Jacko” was in complete ignorance of the fact that we knew his whereabouts, thanks to the information vouchsafed by his accomplice. We left our prisoner in the Westchester jail, and I set out to glean some information re- garding “Jacko.” As I anticipated, I found that the negro bore an unenviable reputation and was a notoriously bad character. He had been suspected of several robberies in the country around, but owing to lack of evidence the authorities had always failed to bring the crimes home to him. However, I determined to arrest him. I obtained the neces- sary warrant on the information vouch- safed me by his accomplice and promptly set off on his track. “Jim” and I had _ tele- phoned instruc- tions to “ Buck” where to meet us, and together we ' started the hunt. It was no easy matter, for our man moved from place to place and covered his trail remarkably — well ; but at last we ran him to earth in a shanty in a thick wood about twenty tiles distant from my farm station. It was merely a tumble-down hut, and the negro was quite alone. “JACKO," THE NEGRO WIRE-THIEF, CAPTURED BY CAPTAIN BOWEN, From a Photo. “WHEN L CLUTCHED HOLD OF HIM HE TURNED UPON ME WITH A SNARL.” 199 Knowing his desperate nature we approached his lair with caution ; but, as it happened, we caught “Jacko” quite by surprise. When I clutched hold of him he turned upon me with a snarl, but it was of no use. “Jim” and “ Buck” were at hand, and though he struggled fiercely we quickly had him secured, and drove off with all speed to the jail. He was committed to the grand jury on two hundred pounds bail, and ultimately received a sentence which kept him quiet for a long time. As for his young accomplice, sentence on him was suspended, as he had turned State’s evidence, and by assisting in the arrest of “Jacko” had saved the county considerable expense. Having secured two of the gang, one of whom was the leader, I re- turned to my station in order to carry out arrange- ments for captur- ing the rest of the men. Ringing up the manager, I ascertained a favourite ground of the wire-thieves. They periodically visited this spot, and it was nightly anticipated that they would make another raid. The place lay some few miles north of my station, and was known as “ The Five Points,” from the fact that five distinct cross-roads met here. The thieves could hardly have chosen a more - suitable part of the line for their periodical raids. It was a lonely, desolate spot, the nearest habitation — being some miles away, so that the possi-

Page 209

200 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. bility of being disturbed was very remote. Furthermore, the cross-roads offered additional safety, since pursuers, unable to hear the retreat of the robbers’ wagon, would ninety-nine times out of a hundred take the wrong road and travel in a direction diametrically opposite to that in which the miscreants had fled. The manager of the company himself came over to my station, and together we drove at nightfall to “The Five Points” to lie in wait for the thieves, for we were positive that sooner or later they would turn up again. We spent thirty consecutive nights in this ambush, but evidently the arrest of “Jacko” and his confederate had scared our quarry, for no robberies were committed in the district during the month we were on the watch. Finally I abandoned this plan in disgust, and arranged with the telephone authorities that when a cut did occur at this point they were simply to send me the message, “Postal, Five Points.” During the daytime I thoroughly surveyed and mapped out all the country around the neighbourhood and ascertained the short- est roads to follow when the call came, as I was cenfident it would sooner or later. My calculations proved correct. After lying quiet for thirty- four nights, during which they evidently thought they had lulled us into a false sense of security, the thieves began again, and the long expected “ Postal, Five Points,” came. It was two o'clock in the morning, and the night was intensely _ bitter and dark, but we gathered our things together and, thirteen minutes after the call, set out on a desperate drive to “The Five Points.” We tore along at “1 ORDERED ‘yi TO SCALE A POLE AND TAP TIE LINE.” breakneck speed, covering the five miles in thirteen minutes, and we travelled so silently, owing to the rubber tyres on our trap and the rubber shoes on the horse’s feet, that the robbers could not have had the slightest warning of our approach. * Suddenly, however, the horse shied at something that we could not see, swerved to one side, and plunged up a bank into a fence with a terrific crash, smashing our light runabout to matchwood. This was a particularly unfortunate stroke of ill-luck, because the sound of the collision must have been heard for a considerable distance, giving the wire-thieves the alarm. Picking ourselves up and running forward, we discerned in the darkness the outlines of a big wagon. “Let fly, boys!” I cried, for this was un- doubtedly the robbers’ conveyance, and simul- taneously a fusillade of rifle-shots rang out, riddling the caravan like a sieve. Had any- one been inside he would have had an ex- citing time, but fortu- nately for them when we clambered into it no sign of life was visible. We heard one or two shouts in the distance, and I had no . doubt that it was the thieves making off as fast as they could. But pursuit was useless in the darkness. Our dark lantern— consisting of an ordi- nary bicycle lamp covered with cloth— being undamaged in the smash-up of the trap, was quickly lighted. The horse, scared at the collision, bolted, but “ Jim” started off in pursuit and soon recaptured him. We turned the wagon inside out in a few minutes. It was a suspicious- looking vehicle with a canvas covering, very suitable for the surreptitious

Page 210

TRACKING ‘THE WIRE-THIEVES. 201 carriage of stolen metal to the melting shop. The vehicle was empty, save for a heavy walking-stick with a crooked handle, and having a very heavy piece of lead, weighing some twelve ounces, for a ferrule. ‘There was also a lantern, such as is used on railways, and a box containing four sandwiches. ‘Two horses were hitched to the wagon, and on their Lacks were a number of coats, but these gave us no clue. After hurriedly completing our examination we set off down the road to find out where the thieves had been at work, keeping our ears and eyes on the alert, since for aught we knew they might still be prowling round. We had not walked a hundred yards when my feet tripped over a mass of wire lying on the ground, and when I followed it to the base of the pole we could see the electric sparks flying as the wires came into contact and set up “short circuiting.” 1 ordered “ Jim” to scale a pole and by means of the portable instrument tap the line and tell the manager of the company, who was at a station only a few miles away, the news of our raid, and that some two hundred feet of wires were down. At half-past four in the morning he arrived, and we hung about the district until daybreak, trusting that the robbers might return. But they had been too well scared, and we saw nothing of them. When day broke we drove the captured vehicle to Conshohocken, where we lodged it in a livery stable: We kept quiet for five days, taking care that not a word concerning the raid was published. I then inserted an advertise- ment in the papers, which I felt sure from the way I worded it would draw something. It ran as follows :— “Found on the road to Norristown, two horses and a covered wagon. Party can have same by proving property.—Address H. Ward, General Delivery, Conshohocken, Pa.” While examining the wagon I made an important discovery. ‘he tyres of the wheels were worn on one edge, which showed that they had been driven considerably over tram-lines. This convinced me that the wagon came from Philadelphia, as it is the only place in the neigh- bourhood having tram-lines. I also inspected the cane minutely, and found the name “ Dink” scratched very faintly on the handle—evidently the nickname of its owner. Confident that I could now obtain better results in Philadelphia than Conshohocken, we left the latter place benind us. On arriving at the Quaker City I once more disguised myself, posing as a criminal who had just completed a “stretch” for a big robbery in Albany and had managed to save a few dollars. In this character I prowled round the lowest quarters of the city, Vol. xviii.—26. making acquaintance with all the thieves and desperadoes I could ferret out. “ Buck” and “Jim,” in accordance with my_ instructions, shadowed me night and day. ‘“ Whatever you do,” I said, “don’t lose sight of me. Some crook may recognise me as a secret-service agent, and then I shall be in fora warmtime. If things get too hot, rush in and carry me off somehow, and if I get into a tight corner don’t hesitate to use your shooting-irons.” You see, 1 was going among some of the most desperate cut-throats in America —men who would have stopped at nothing if they had guessed my identity. My recognition in some of those dens would have spelt death to me. However, I jogged along very comfortably. I got into touch with a young crook named “Slim” Jackson. We became very intimate, and I told him I was hanging about trying to get rid of some brass journals I had stolen and hidden in a wood five miles away. “Look here,” I said, “I’m new to this district. Can you tell me where I can plant them? I cannot tell you where the swag is, but I can point out the place.” “Oh, that’s all right,” he replied. ‘“ Come along and see ‘Hog’ Howell; he knows the lay!” yForthwith we went off to South Street, where we found “ Hog ” along with some of his thiev- ing companions. When we came up they looked at me suspiciously. “Oh, he’s all right,” said Jackson. “ He’s one of the boys just out after a stretch for robbery. He’s got some brass hidden up and wants to get rid of it. Doesn’t know this place, so I’ve brought him along.” We then went off to an old market-house in the lower parts of the city. We entered the building, and Jackson, having stolen some lead and sold it for a few shillings, proceeded to “rush the can”—that is, stand beer all round. We sat about the table quaffing the drink, sing- ing, relating reminiscences of our crimes, and making merry generally. It was a motley gather- ing. All the “boys,” as they styled them- selves, were adepts in every kind of theft, from diamonds to lead-stripping in empty houses, and numbered some of the most desperate robbers in the country. ‘The greater majority of them had made acquaintance with the interior of more than one prison. —- Suddenly there was a terrific row. Chairs and tables were upset, and the air was filled with curses and imprecations. ‘The police had raided the place! We were completely out- numbered, so that resistance was useless, and we were all quickly secured and carried off in the patrol wagon to the police-station. ‘l'his was a contretemps that I had not anticipated, but

Page 211

202 THE WIDE WORLD as I was playing the game and did not want the police to know my identity any more than my criminal companions, I said nothing. ‘ Buck ” and “Jim” grasped the situation immediately, and acted accordingly. As it turned out, how- ever, this arrest was really a blessing in disguise. Jackson and I were lodged in the same cell, and during the night I plied him with questions, which he unsuspectingly replied to. I told him that while in Albany jail I met a good fellow named Dan ‘Thorne, who was “doing a bit” (serving a sen- tence). As a matter of fact, I had got this man convicted for a post - office rob- bery, and he was still in jail, so that I knew it was quite safe for me to use his name. “*Danny’ told me when I got away,” I re- marked, casually, “that if Iran across a fellow by the name of ‘Dink’ when I was in Philadel- phia —to which place I told him I was going—he was all right. Do you know ‘Dink’?” “Rather! He’s one of the boys,” answered Jackson—‘‘a good, square fellow, too. But poor old ‘Dinkey’ Taylor is lame, and that’s somewhat against him for our line.” I pricked up my ears. I had got hold of my quarry’s real name. “Is he very lame ?” I continued. “Oh, yes; he always has to carry a cane.” “Tf that’s so, I’m off,” I replied, ruefully ; “I don’t care to do biz with a lame chap.” I was quite satisfied with what I had dis- covered, and prudently dropped the subject, since had I cross-examined my young friend too much he might have grown suspicious. The next morning all of us had to be vacci- nated by the doctor, as a case of smallpox had broken out in the prison. We were then taken “JACKSON AND I WERE LODGED IN THE SAME CELL, AND DURING THE NIGHT 1 PLIED HIM WITH MAGAZINE. before the magistrate and fined two pounds each, or an alternative of ten days in Moyamensen prison, which is on the outskirts of the city. After receiving the sentence I told the lieutenant that I had sent for someone to come and pay the fine, for I knew that “ Buck” and “Jim” were close by. “Got someone to pay your fine, have you?” said the officer, in a sharp, sneering voice. “Well, they'll have to hustle, for if they are not here by twelve o’clock you’re going down to Moyamensen with the rest of your friends.” Soon after, however, “ Buck” came in and told the officer that he understood a friend of his had been fined two pounds and that he had come to pay the fine. He laid down the money and I was allowed to go free. We left together and, meeting “ Jim” at a pre-arranged point, went to Philadelphia Sta- tion and departed for our test sta- tion in a goods train. Arriving there I found a letter awaiting me from the owner of the horses and wagon. He wrote from a livery stable in Fitzwater Street, Philadelphia. — So far my deductions had been correct and the scent was getting decidedly warmer. I replied at once, making an appointment which the owner ful- filled. He stated that he hired the wagon we had found to hucksters and pedlars. “When did you last hire it out?” “On the night of February gth.” “To whom?” “A man named was drawn by grey and QUESTIONS. ‘Dinkey’ Taylor. It bay horses, and

Page 212

TRACKING THE I have let them out to Taylor on occasions.” “What for?” “Well, Taylor's a huckster, and goes round the villages selling produce that he buys in Philadelphia. A good fellow is ‘ Dinkey.’” “Ts that so? Well, what kind of man is your customer ?” “A man quite lame, about five feet eight inches in height, weighs about thirteen stone, and has a reddish moustache.” “Describe your pro- perty.” ; He did so at great length, and it was no difficult matter to associate the team with that which we had caught at “The Five Points.” “Is this it?” I asked, showing the animals and wagon to him. The man started forward and prepared to assume Possession. “Well, that’s all right,” I said. “Just you get in and Vl drive.” “Buck” and “Jim” edged towards the man, who looked round in surprise. “ We're going to Ambler jail,” “I continued. “TI arrest you for being concerned in the thefts of telegraph and telephone wire that have been going on round here.” The fellow was completely nonplussed, but he got in quietly, with my lieutenants to guard him, and we set off to the prison, where he was held on bail for two hundred pounds. I then produced the cane and asked him if he recognised it. several enough.” We now set off on the track of Taylor and HANDY MIKE.” iP TWO OF THE WIRE-THIEVES ARRESTED BY CAITAIN BOWEN. WIRE - THIEVES. 203 “Oh, yes,” he said. “That’s ‘ Dinkey’s,’ sure soon ran him to earth. Being taken entirely by surprise, we had no difficulty in arresting him. Before his conviction he confessed that he had been engaged in the wire robberies with two con- federates—“ Skinny” Wilson and “ Mike” Dolan, familiarly known as “Handy Mike.” We arrested both these men, and when they saw the game was up and that my evidence was too strong for them to rebut they turned State’s evi- dence. ‘Taylor was sentenced to two years’ solitary confine- ment, a fine, and to defray the cost of the proceedings, the sentence being lighter than it would otherwise have been owing to his giving informa- tion which led to the arrest of his confederates. The two latter, owing to the evidence they produced, received shorter terms of imprisonment. These proceedings completed, I returned to our test station and remained there for several months. No further robberies, however, took place, and we thereupon dismantled the test station, disposed of the farm, and returned to New York, where I interviewed the manager of the company, who was, as you may well imagine, overjoyed at our capture of the thieves who had defied them for five years. I assured him that I was confident that we had broken up the gang, and this surmise happily proved correct, for the company have never been troubled since.

Page 213

Odds an D The Soldiers’ Offering—An Extraordinary Nest—A Queer Capture, etc. Sa} FEW miles from Hiroshima, Japan, H is a beautiful island called Miya- jima. While the Japanese soldiers and sailors were assembled at Hiro- shima before starting for the front in the late war they paid many visits to Miyajima, ing in size from tiny things to monsters as big as a shovel. The spoons are dedicated to the warriors’ god by soldiers praying for a safe return and glory in the field, and each spoon bears its donors name and his petition. It is interesting to know why such an apparently THE OBJECTS FASTENFED TO THE PILLARS ARE WOODEN SPOONS, DEDICATED TO A WARRIOR GOD BY JAPANESE SOLDIERS PRAYING FOR GLORY ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE, AND A SAFE RETURN. From a Photo, for there is a famous temple on the island dedi- cated to a deity who looks after all warriors. Near this temple is a large hall, and hanging from its many pillars—as seen in the photo- graph—are thousands of wooden spoons, rang- incongruous article as a spoon was chosen for that purpose. These spoons are ordinarily used for taking up the boiled rice into a bowl, so that the word “spoon,” in Japanese—meshi foru— means, “take rice.” —It also has an equivocal

Page 214

ODDS AND ENDS. 205 CRUSHING BORAX AT OLLAGUA, CHILI—HOTH THE OXEN AND THFIR DRIVERS ARE BLINDFOLDED TO PRESERVE From a) meaning, signifying “arrest” or ‘ capture.” Therefore the spoon must mean “a conquest,” and so the fighting-man deems it the best present to make to his guardian deity. Borax, one of the most commonly-used pre- servatives, is found largely near Ollagua, in Atacama, Chili, where the large fields, glaring, blinding white in the strong sunlight, present a remarkable spectacle. Even the oxen used for transport purposes have to be blindfolded to preserve their sight when drawing the ponderous “crusher” over the lumpy fields—as shown in the above photograph— _ while their drivers are | similarly protected. From a distance the fields look like dazzling areas of snow. The basin-like depres- sion seen in the next photograph reproduced is not the crater of a minia- ture volcano, but nothing more or less than a bird's nest! This immense nest is that of the lowan, or Australian native hen, and is composed of white sand, dry leaves, and small twigs. The lowan itself is about the size of the bronze turkey, and not unlike the latter in ap- pearance. The bird’s fecundity is in proportion From a} THIS IS NOT THE CRATER OF A MINIATURE VOLCANO, BUT THE NEST OF AN EXTRACKDINARY. THEIR SIGHT FROM THE DAZZLING GLARE. (Photo. to the size of its house, for as many as a hundred and fifty eggs have been found in one nest! The first layer of eggs may contain twelve, all placed small end down, and then covered with sand and leaves; the next layer eleven—and so on, one less every time, with mathematical regularity, until completed in pyramid shape. The lowans lay in October, the Australian spring, and the heat of the sun acting on the natural incubator hatches the young at the end of November. The chicks wriggle out of the dééris in pin-feathers, and BIKD, Whote,

Page 215

206 promptly run off into the scrub. The birds are extremely shy, and when pressed take to wing. They make their nests in the dense mallee (dwarf eucalyptus) in the Western Wimmera Province of Vic- toria. Of late years great areas of mal- lee have been rolled down and the land cultivated, and in consequence the lowans, with the kangaroos and emus, are becom- ing rare in this region. As the earliest morning express train from Glasgow to Aberdeen and the Highlands was passing Alloa Junc- tion about 5 a.m. some time ago a bird, in the act of flying across the track, was inter- cepted by the loco- motive, which was travelling at a speed of over sixty miles an hour. The driver’s quick eye noted the incident, and stopping-place, some six at Stirling, the first miles farther on, he found a magnificent specimen of the barn owl clinging in its death grip to the hand-railof the engine smoke-box. Strange to say, not a single feather was ruffled. The victim has now been stuffed, and is shown in the above snap-shot with the driver whose engine “captured” it. ‘The bird is regarded by the local railwaymen as a unique “catch,” although at the same locomotive _ stable there is kept an even (SUMED tu eae em 2 RSS ae THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. AN OWL THAT WAS CAUGHT AND KILLED BY THE SCOTCH EXPRESS, From a Photo. by W'. R. Duthie, Glasgow. this;day. OD I¢ stranger trophy—a large live eel, res- cued from the tender of a loco- motive, in whose dark recesses it had travelled thousands ‘of miles, and actu- ally fattened, before being secured. In the south wall of theancient parish church at Oakley, Bedford, is the curious tombshown in the following photograph. In reality this is the last resting-place of the pious builder of the edifice, a member of the family of Reynes ; but with that curious ignorance of local history which one some- times finds among the inhabitants of a district, the old- time folk set afloat a most ridiculous story concerning the grave. It was, they solemnly averred, the tomb of a “white witch,” buried for her sins half in and half out of the church ! This legend being implicitly believed, the next thing the gossips did was to attach un- canny properties to the. tomb itself, and accordingly it began to be noised abroad that the stone of which it was com- posed, ground to powder and dissolved In water, was a sove- reign cure for weak eyes, So popular did this curious specific become that the carved masonry suf- fered severely, and the marks of the scraping it endured are plainly visible to

Page 216

THE KNIFE-GRINDER OF THE QUAINT I FORMS HIS WORKSHOF AND MEANS OF LOCOMOTION COMBINED. From a Photo, by Paul Géniaux, Paris. Off the coast of Brittany and the Department called Cétes-du-Nord is a little island, called the Ile de Bréhat, which for quaintness and pic- turesqueness is un- rivalled in the whole of France. Situated about a mile from the coast, it is some four miles long by two miles broad, and it has a population of nearly one thou- sand people, mostly fishermen and_ their wives and children. “Inhabitants more primitive,” writes a correspondent, “I have rarely met dur- ing the fifteen years I have been travelling in the out-of-the-way places of Europe. There is neither doc- tor nor chemist in the whole island, and consequently the death - rate is higher on the Ile de Bréhat than in any other pE BREHAT—HIS ANCIENT TRICYCLE ED ONLY ONCE DURING THE LAST T) THE WLAND PRISON—IT HA: i a Photo. by Paul Génjawx, Paris. ODDS AND ENDS. 207 part of Brittany. On the other hand, I should say that crime is less fre- quent there than elsewhere, judging by the fact that the prison has been occu- pied only once during the past twenty years, when a woman was shut up there on some charge. This prison, by the by, is a most primitive con- struction. As will be seen from the lower photograph, it is a strongly-built hut, standing, all overgrown with creepers, within the shadow of a huge boulder. I should imagine that its ventilation is imperfect, for I failed to discover any opening save the doorway, which is stoutly bolted and padlocked. The police force of Bréhat consists of one man—and he is a gamekceper ! “Another of the curiosities of this quaint little island is the knife grinder, who is the possessor of an ingenious machine, which serves the double pur- pose of sharpening knives and carry- ing him to and fro on his journeys in search of work. The photograph shows him busily engaged in sharpen- ing a knife for the local butcher while seated on his ‘ tricycle - workshop.’ Never, surely, was a tricycle put to so novel a ise. - Whilst turning his grindstone the old man sits with his back to the front wheel, and when

Page 217

208 he has finished _his work he simply turns round and pedals his pon- derous but emi- nently _ service- able mount homewards.” We have at various times dealt with those curious religious mendicants of India known as fakirs —devotees who seemingly take pleasure in inflicting torture upon themselves by holding a limb rigid until it becomes with- ered and useless, WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE THE AN INDIAN FAKIR WHO SPENDS HIS LIFE ON A COUCH OF SPIKES—HE EVEN SLEEPS ON THIS PRICKLY KED! peta From a Photo. by Gopaldas & Sons. or sitting on sharp spikes for hours at a_ stretch, A member of this cult is shown in the accom- on his prickly bed! pany ing pi c- ture, which reaches us from Hyderabad. This fakir, or sadhu, after taking a bath, perches him- self at four o'clock in the morning on his couch of nails, and there re- mains, in prayer and contem- plation, through- out the day, only — interrupt- ing his devotions to partake of two frugal meals. Extraordinary to relate, this thorough - going ascetic actually sleeps at night It is a true saying, indeed, that one can get used to anything! TREASURE HUNT IN AReTic Down THE i Queer Capture af! ) QP F pe “ WK PD, icurnc Fe 42 Ce A ea IRE STMIEVES K READ, The Soldiers Offeriog | ‘i A “oe oat | \. (CEaTHER Raymon’ } Aq Ingeniois Z Bursia “I Lombination ¥) 20 ig area ‘ ae | * : ae ~t_ ppTue Gago’s OaTH L | Tres oa eee h | arr | c ‘THE UNDE RWoRtD | CN 1 GRAND CANYON ue so | ! ¢ NSTANTINORLE Se | \> y \ me B® ee | hp STEALING A \ Z (/*Tne Condicrs TN | PEEREE hee Seite \ / Story ‘ | “y THE LEoPARD | » ae ” Hunrins THeWiLp DS Six DAYS INA 5 a4 CARABAS wy Y Swamp t/ . Pouce of Spikes ‘S.° . ‘The Guost of MuskeT FLAT {| Sty Extraordigary Nes? | THE MAP-CON FERNS OF SOTHE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE,” WHICH SHOWS AT A GLANCE THE LOCALITY OF EACH ARTICLE AND NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURE EN THIS NUMBER.

Page 218

Digitized by Google

Page 219

“THE MADDENED BRUT PRAN q W N RUTES SPRANG AGAIN AND AGAIN A’ HE BARRED WINDOW.” y NDOW.” (SEE PAGE 215.) oog le oogle As Digitizeo

Page 220

THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XVIII. DECEMBER, No. 105. 1906. . A Tale of Two Tigers. * By Tuomas H. Tripp. This graphically-told story will give the stay-at-home reader a better idea of the terrible menace which a man-eating tiger constitutes to a community than pages of statistics. The ordeal through which the official, his wife, and babe passed is surely as appalling as could be conceived. ATENCHEROO, )) Indian village in the Deccan, just 8 ISSA) off the main line of the railway, was, GRAN owing to its being upon the uplands, ~~ an ideal place in which to pass the summer when Hyderabad, the capital, became uncomfortably hot. Here, when its suitability had been discovered, several people built them- selves small bungalows; and when the depart- mental holidays came round these semi-colonists left the capital in batches by bicycle and train for their haven of coolness, some two hours’ journey distant. The country around Patencheroo showed ground profusely strewn with boulders, clad in scrub, and streaked and patched with forest. As may be imagined, the sport offered by the locality was very varied. Quails, partridges, hares, and even antelopes, rewarded a casual walk in the immediate neighbourhood of the bungalows, and the “tanks” scattered among the different valleys always held water-fowl of some description. But, while the nearer hills too frequently produced panthers for the rate of mortality among their dogs to be anything but high, the Nimrods of the colony had to journey to Kotagiri, and to other places twenty miles away at the foot of the purple mountains show- ing above the horizon, because tigers were seldom seen this side of that village. ‘The first European to ‘come into residence at the colony in the summer of the year 18— was a Mr. Wicks. He was followed, when the bungalow had been prepared for their reception, by his wife and child. A few days later, having been asked to do so by his friend Connell, Wicks walked across to the next house and instructed the man in charge to air the rooms. Beyond Connell’s there was no other bunga- low to the east of the colony, and the nearest this side of Wicks’s was at least a couple of hundred yards distant. a flourishing author was told this story by the man chi sonally verified its authenticity. Indeference to the wish mily, however, he has given them a fictitious name. xviii, —27, Wicks’s house, consisting of four rooms, stood upon the crest of a wave in the ground, and it had the inevitable veranda. Of compound-wall there was none at that time, the omission being common to most of the recently-built houses. The first room had two doors—one opening on to the veranda, the other facing the servants’ quarters. Next came the bedroom, alongside of which was another room divided into a dress- ing-room and bath-room, with windows that gave a view, across the boulder-strewn scrub, of Mr. Connell’s back-yard, fifty yards away. ‘The position in relation to each other of the friends’ bungalows should be carefully noted. Evidence of Wicks’s keen desire to spend that summer at Patencheroo was the fact that only single heavy cerfaims hung against the doorways of the bedroom, two in number, that led into the adjoining rooms, while the door of communication between the bath-room and the next apartment was a rough deal affair hastily put together in order that privacy might be secured when desired. After visiting Connell’s, Wicks returned home to afternoon tea and joined his wife in the front room. In the desultory conversation that fol- lowed, conducted in low tones for the benefit of the sleeping infant upon Mrs. Wicks’s knees, he remarked upon the absence of the servants. “They have gone to the village for to-mor- row’s supplies,” explained Mrs. Wicks. “ That reminds me—I wish, Herbert, that you'd take a stroll after tea and shoot something for dinner ; it would be a change from the village mutton.” “ Certainly, my dear,” Wicks replied. “Where have you put the gun-case ?” “ Under the bed,” answered his wife, smiling. “TI thought that it would be safest there, and handier than if it was kept anywhere else.” “You are not nervous, pet, surely ?” the man inquired, in surprise. “No-o,” replied his wife, somewhat douit- fully ; “but all the same I shall be glad when the Connells are here.”

Page 221

212 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Wicks said, with conviction. Nothing to be afraid of! If so, what are those two animals——great, striped brutes—that are so boldly coming towards the bungalows ? swiftly padded around the house, to meet again upon the veranda. ‘They entered the unfastened rooms, but the caretaker had been in time ; there was no open- ing in the barriers within which he was enclosed. “IN A PLURRY OF FEAK THE ANCIENT HINDU RUSHED INTO THE BUNGALOW.” The caretaker of Mr. Connell’s house, hookah in hand, had retired to the back-yard to smoke a quiet pipe. He accidentally sighted the tigers, and they him, as they slunk down the rising ground, At first the man was not afraid, but the manner of the brutes’ approach left him in no doubt as to their intentions. They were mnan-eaters—seeking whom they might devour ! In a flurry of fear the ancient Hindu rushed into the bungalow, with a banging and bolting of doors and windows. Meanwhile the tigers Fearful for the result, but powerless to prevent the impending tragedy, the Hindu saw the baffled brutes go off towards Mr. Wicks’s bungalow. Wicks sat alone in the front room, his wife having left him upon some domestic errand or other. She espied the tigers while casually look- ing out of the window, and promptly screamed. A Providential inspiration caused her to run into the bath-room, where she stood, with the baby in her arms, calling frantically to her husband. (- slo

Page 222

A TALE OF TWO TIGERS. “What is it?” shouted Mr. Wicks in alarm, rising to his feet. At that moment the tigers leaped upon the veranda, and one brute actually put its head in through the open door. Silently man and beast looked into each other's eyes. Then the tiger tentatively advanced, whereupon Wicks flung the tea-tray at it. Startled by the din, the brute drew back. Wicks turned and fled, while the crashing of the shattered china filled the air. A second later both tigers were in the room, and one had sprung at the fluttering curtain, rent it from its fastenings, and, growling fiercely, sprawled enmeshed in the bedroom. Only an abrupt turn to the left saved the man. Panic-stricken, Wicks gained the bath-room, and was pulling the door to when the second tiger hurled itself forward, closing the door behind Wicks with a resounding crash. A board splintered even as he shot the bolt. “Thank Heaven, Herbert, we are safe!” cried Mrs. Wicks, tremulously. “Safe be hanged!” Wicks replied, huskily. “ Hush !” Trembling in every limb, husband and wife heard the great brutes sniffing at the frail door. Of the two, Wicks was the more frightened ; indeed, he was perfectly sick with fear, for he felt rather than knew how narrow had been his escape, and that the door had only been inter- posed between him and those terrible claws in the very nick of time. Mrs. Wicks, on the other hand, had been alarmed more upon her husband’s account; now that he, unharmed, was with her and the child, she was com- paratively at ease, especially since at present the door held the tigers at bay. Now, had the second tiger sprung against the door—which it had not, having cnly reared itself up instead, to bring down the man—three mangled bodies would by this time have littered the bath-room ; the door could not have successfully withstood the shock of the impact fora moment. Already a panel had been splintered, however, and in endeavouring better to scan the in- mates one of the tigers inserted its claws in the crack and tore off a large piece of wood. Wicks became convulsed with dread. He guessed what would happen, once the tearing became purposeful—and it might become so at any moment ! Cr-r-reak | “Open the door quietly and run to Connell’s,” he whispered hoarsely to his wife. “Why ?” Mrs. Wicks whispered back. a 213 “Tt’s our only chance. They'll have the door down presently ——” “ But, Herbert, are they éo¢/ there? Suppose only one’s there ?” she nervously asked. “Tt can make little difference,” her husband muttered. “T won't go until I’m sure that Jo// are there,” * Mrs. Wicks persisted, pointing at the door. “Doas I tell you,” Wicks cried, excitedly. “ Herbert !” Mrs. Wicks began to whimper. “Well, you’re wasting priceless time,” Wicks replied, in angry fear. With a great effort the man conquered the weakness of his limbs, and absolutely dragged himself towards the door. From a safe distance he peeped through the gaps in ‘the woodwork. Brilliant sunshine lighted the dressing-room. Quickly he stepped back to his wife’s side, with a strange look in his eyes. “ Are you sure, Herbert ?” she asked. “Yes,” he gritted through his teeth. “ Ram Das is probably on the look-out. For Heaven’s sake, hurry!” The clawing of the door had become pur- poseful, beyond doubt. “WHILE PASSING BY_A LARGE BOULDER SHE SUDDENLY PLACED HER CHILD UPON rr.”

Page 223

214 THE Tightly clasping the infant to her breast, Mrs. Wicks slipped out of the house and sped, with leaden feet, through the scrub. And Ram Das, with an exclamation, hastened from the window, through which he had been gazing horror stricken, to give her shelter. Once in the open, absolutely unprotected, and with the baby’s weignt hindering her pro- gress, Mrs. Wicks became terrified and seemed temporarily to lose her head. Did she hope that the child, at least, might be saved, or was it self-preservation alone that impelled her? At any rate, while passing by a large boulder she suddenly placed her child upon it and fled madly onwards. “THE TIGERS WERE ONLY A COUPLE OF LEAPS DISTANT WHEN WICKS FAIRLY SHOVED HIS WIFE INTO THE HOUSE.” Meanwhile Wicks’s position was one of extreme peril. It might occur to the tigers at any moment to separate their efforts — one remaining to destroy the door while the other went round the house to seize the man as he fled from its mate. If, however, Wicks retreated too soon, what he feared would be precipitated ; seeing him leave the room, the brutes would - quickly give chase. So, while every second took his wife nearer to safety, it added vastly to his danger. Mrs. Wicks was still some twenty yards from the caretaker when her husband rushed by her WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. with a yell of warning. She strove valiantly to increase her speed, but she had recently been ill and was still somewhat feeble. Once in comparative safety Wicks stopped, shouting to his wife to hurry. ‘Then shame drove him back, with faltering steps, to aid her. As he met her he saw the tigers come round the deserted bungalow in great bounds. “T must close the door, sahib,” cried the care- taker, in trembling accents. Knowing that Ram Das would do as he warned, Wicks grasped Mrs. Wicks by the arm and dragged her fainting to the half-shut door. The tigers were only a couple of leaps distant when Wicks fairly shoved his wife into the house and toppled in himself. Then Ram Das slammed the door, literally in the brutes’ faces. With the old caretaker’s aid Wicks proceeded to revive his wife from the swoon into which the ex- citement and exertion had thrown her. Upon her return to consciousness Mrs. Wicks’s first thought was of her child. “ Herbert,” she whis- pered, “the baby: ” “Heavens! Where 7s the boy?” cried Wicks, looking round the’ room. In his terror he had tempo- rarily forgotten the exist- ence of his child. “T put him on one of those rocks we passed,” Mrs. Wicks continued, sobbing. Now that she was safe her action seemed most unnatural and hardly credible. “What is the trouble, sahib?” Ram Das eagerly inquired. His face filled with pity as Wicks told him. “T must return for the child,” Wicks muttered. “No, sahib. What is the good? ‘Tis his fate,” said Ram Das, philosophically. “It will be mere suicide if you leave the house. The tigers—— Look!” He drew Wicks to the window. The sound of a bolt being drawn jerked the men’s eyes to the door. Mrs. Wicks, her face devoid of all expression, was opening the door. “Stop her, sahib!” shouted Ram Das. Wicks jumped across the room’ and banged the door to. ‘There came a.mighty roar of pain,

Page 224

A TALE OF TWO ‘TIGERS. 215 and with an exclamation he pulled it back half aninch. Growling horribly, the tiger drew out its paw, which had been jammed in the door. ‘Then —clang !—the bolt went home again. “My baby!” whimpered Mrs. Wicks. She turned wildly upon her husband. “ Let me go, if you are too much of a coward to go yourself! He may awake at any moment. Are we to see him eaten?” Ram Das, to whom the drift of what Mrs. Wicks said was intelligible, spoke to Wicks in Hindustani. “Sahib,” he said, ‘if she loses the child your mem will go mad, or she will turn for ever from you.” “T must go,” Wicks interrupted, dully, per- spiration standing on his brow at the idea of facing the tigers again. If, indeed, he got out of the house without being observed by either of the watching brutes, how far could he hope to go before being hurled to the ground? With a strange persistence the tigers were roaming around the house, and must inevitably sight him soon. At this juncture Ram Das supplied a suggestion. “If we can contrive to keep the brutes engaged at the other side of the house for a while, and you run like a deer, sahib, you may succeed in reaching thé child and conveying him into your bungalow. Wait till they come to these windows,” continued Ram Das. “While you engage their attention, I shall slip into the next room and close the outer door.” If they did not quite understand Ram Das’s plans, husband and wife eagerly obeyed his instructions. The tigers were soon by the windows, where- upon Wicks teased them in every imaginable way. He heard the bolts being softly drawn behind him, and he redoubled his efforts. One great beast, snarling impotently, put its head at the window bars and, no doubt, saw the open door. Down it dropped and bounded round the house, accompanied by its mate, but both were too late. ‘The result of Ram Das’s act was the gain of a room, at the windows of which he could, under Providence, detain the tigers, while Wicks, unperceived by them, was let out of the house by his wife. Everything, as may be imagined, depended upon what start Wicks could secure. Mrs. Wicks, praying, drew all the bolts save one with trembling fingers, while ber husband divested himself of boots and socks and what- ever clothing might hamper him in running. Presently Ram Das began hooting and jeering at the tigers, and Wicks drew a long breath. Then Ram Das shouted, through his yells, “They are—both here! Go /” At the command Wicks was off like a shot. His wife, pale as death, closed the door and joined Ram Das in exciting the tigers. While the maddened brutes sprang again and again at the barred window, Wicks was running as he never would again—down the hollows, on up the rising ground, and over bush and stone. Gaining the sleeping child he grabbed it up, and, rocking upon his feet, dashed to the front of his bungalow. ‘The outer duor of the bath- room was closed ; the front door, however, was open ; and the gun, he remembered, was in the bedroom. Meanwhile the tigers, tiring of vain efforts to get at Mrs. Wicks and Ram Das, recommenced their prowling. Stealing round the back of the house they espied the fugitive. As he scampered up to the side of his bungalow a scream, faintly heard, caused him almost to leap over the ground. On to the veranda he went with a stumbling jump; then, panting for breath, he gained the front room and slammed the door behind him. The child was now crying lustily, but Wicks could not attend to it then. Only the latch held the back-door fast—if, indeed, he ad latched it when he made his escape ten minutes ago. Hurrying into the bedroom he took the gun out of its case, put the parts together with fumbling, trembling fingers, and loaded the weapon. ‘Then his fear left him. With a handful of bulleted cartridges in one hand and his gun in the other Wicks went into the dressing-room, which he had chosen because its windows were lower than those of the other rooms, and because two of the weakest points in his defences could be commanded from it. It was even as he feared—one glance showed him that the outer door was wof latched, even if it was closed. But the inner door was an obstacle still, although the greater part of the upper panel had been torn away ; and all the windows of the bungalow were barred. ‘The tigers, hungry and loath to lose their prey —especially after the excitement of the chase— circled the house, looking into the windows and sniffing at the doors, attracted by the wailing of the baby. Presently one came to Wicks's window, and Wicks shouted at it. ‘The great head pressed against the bars. One cruel-louking paw strove to grasp the man. Ata gleaming eye Wicks fired. With a short roar the tiger fell backward. Wicks peeped at it as it lay writhing, an unholy joy filling him at the brute’s death-agony. “ Bet 4e doesn’t want any more!” he muttered, quickly reloading. Scarcely had he spoken when, urged by some instinct, he turned sharply towards the bathroom. :

Page 225

216 THE WIDE WORLD The second tiger was crawling stealthily into the bath-room, having found the outer door open ! Startled, Wicks threw up his gun and fired — too high. The bullet whistled away over the scrub, and the tiger was outside on the instant. Once more Wicks hastily reloaded. He felt that a crisis was imminent. Having no other receptacle upon his person, he put two or three cartridges into his mouth, in case he should be compelled to retreat. More than once the surviving tiger peered at Wicks—now round the corner of the outer door, then through the windows. But it did so too warily for the man to inflict a death-wound upon it, and accordingly he reserved his fire. “ BLINDLY INTO THE GAUING JAWS—WITH THE WICKS FIKED BOTH BAKRELS.” Suddenly, having apparently gauged the task before it, the brute swept into the bath-room and sprang at Wicks through the hole in the door intervening ! Blindly into the gaping jaws —with the muzzle MUZZLE OF THE GUN ALMOST INSIDE THEM— MAGAZINE. of the gun almost inside them—Wicks fired both barrels. Down crashed the door, torn from its hingés, and roar after roar rent the air. Wicks ran headlong into the next room and got behind the bed. ‘There, having reloaded, he stood. The silence was interminable. “Sahib!” A trembling voice hailed him from outside the house, but there was no answer from Wicks. With his gun at the shoulder and his arm resting upon the bed-rail, motionless as a statue, he was watching the doorway of the dressing-room, Ram Das waited a few moments. he again called, more loudly. “Yes?” replied Wicks, without moving. “Both the devils are dead !” “Are you certain?” asked Wicks, huskily. “T'll try again,” said Ram Das, _ recognising the importance of the question. The minutes that Ram Das was away seemed years to poor Wicks. “Yes; it is dead!” cried the caretaker, joy- fully, after having thrown several stones at the brute without discovering any sign to the contrary. “Can the brute really be dead?” the sorely- ~tried man asked him- self. On tip-toe, ready for any contingency, Wicks passed by the dressing- room door; glimpsing a tawny, blood-stained body at the side of the curtain, he was tempted to view it, but only for a moment. Continuing on his way, he opened the front door, and, over- joyed, Mrs. Wicks hastened to her infant’s succour, A small, greatly-excited crowd entered to examine the dead tiger, while Wicks, having seated himself upon a chair in the veranda, quietly fainted away. awful, and seemingly “Sahib!”

Page 226

‘ERrsijor , a BY . . 7a. “, IBEATRICE GRIMSHAW. An entertaining account of a journey through the wonderful hinterland of Fiji—a trip never before undertaken by a white woman. Pessimists who had never been ten miles into the interior prophesied all sorts of disasters; but, nevertheless, Miss Grimshaw pluckily set off, knowing nothing of the language, and escorted by only three native attendants. Many strange experiences—both exciting and amusing-— fell to her lot, and these she describes and illustrates in captivating fashion in the following articles, which have been specially and exclusively written for ‘The Wide World Magazine.” DO not suppose it matters to anyone why I went or who tried to dissuade me from going, or what their motives were. Nor is it necessary to take up the reader’s time in offering ele- mentary geographical facts about Fiji. Fiji is a much bigger and more important place than most people suppose ; it hus one hundred thousand inhabitants, and its largest island is over a hundred miles long. It is a British Crown Colony, it is valuable, it is interesting, it is beautiful—and nobody ever goes there who is not obliged to. or further details see encyclopedias. For myself, the story begins on a certain splendid March afternoon when I took a boat across Suva Harbour to see a plantation that lay on the other side, and came back very thoughtful. Suva Bay is one of the loveliest scenes in the whole of the beautiful Pacific ; but I was not interested in the magnificent peaks that afternoon, although I was but a new-comer to the islands. I had been seeing things that gave rise to serious thought. There was, apparently, nothing that did not grow in that plantation. Unkindly discredit has been cast on the dear old “Swiss Family Robinson ” and its remarkably catholic list of Vol. xviii.—28, I. ° fauna and flora; yet it seemed to me, walking about that plantation—a mere private experi- ment, unsupported by much capital—that I had stepped right back into childhood and the pages of that marvellous book. Bananas, oranges, and pineapples were, of course, as common as dust. Allspice dangled on one green bough, fat red chillies on another. Turmtric, excellent for curries ; fragrant limes, delicate vanilla, croton and castor oils, ramie fibre, erythroxylon coca (where the cocaine comes from), gum-arabic, sisal hemp, cassia, teak, West India arrowroot, cloves, annatto, areca-nut palnis, ginger, cocoa, papaya, and a whole regiment of other useful or pleasant things were there in profusion. All these plants, without exception, have been proved to do exceptionally well in Fiji, Many of them grew wild all over the country ; others, imported such as cocoa, allspice, and vanilla—have pro- duced seeds and beans of a quality surpassing anything else in the markets of the world. Withal there are tens of thousands of acres all over the islands unused and unoccupied ; yet white settlers and planters seldom or never come to try their luck, and the resources of this, the richest of all the rich Pacific archi- pelagos, are not one-hundredth part developed,

Page 227

218 THE WIDE WORLD So it came about that I made a resolve, and kept to it, in spite of the screams of Suva, the capital—Suva, which was clearly convinced, firstly that I could not, and secondly that I ought not to, go through the interior of the ‘islands myself, and see just what the native and his life were like, and of what value the country itself might be for possible settlers. One or two white women, strongly escorted by Europeans, had seen a very little of the interior in recent years, but none had gone very far, and certainly none had ever travelled alone, I was told. Were the natives cannibal now? Certainly not ; cannibalism, with a rare excep- tion or two, was as dead in the Fijis as painting with woad in England. Were they rude to strangers? By no means ; they were the soul of hospitality. But the sum of objection remained the same, the objectors — who had never been ten miles from Suva themselves— obstinately maintaining that “it was too rough.” Then came the delightful preparations. I had never been “off the road” before, and everything that had to be bought was an added prophecy of enjoyment. The side- saddle, the leather saddle-bags for small articles, the minute steel trunk, two feet by one, for all my clothes ; the mos- quito net and oilcloth-covered pillow, the tin billy for tea- making, tin cup and saucer, common knife and fork and spoon, common canvas shoes for rough walking, parcels of ship's biscuit, tinned meat, tea and sugar and salt—all spoke eloquently of freedom, the “call of the road,” and long, bright days under the open sky. And when I had engaged a time-expired native soldier of the Governor's armed constabu- lary force to act as interpreter and courier, and picked up a couple of carriers at Ba, the “jumping-off place” into the unknown, I was absolutely inflated with pride, and felt that Stanley, Burton, and Speke were not to be named with myself. It would, of course, have been possible to walk throughout the trip. But Fiji lies between the fifteenth and twenty-first parallels of South lati- tude, and its hot season is no trifle. By riding I could cover twenty or thirty miles daily of rough mountain bridle-tracks —there are no THE AUTHORESS, MISS BEATRICE GRIMSHAW, WHO HERE DESCRIBES HER ADVENTUROUS JOURNFY INTO THE INTERIOR OF FIJI. From a Photo, by Le Faivre, MAGAZINE. roads in the interior—without suffering from the heat or feeling any fatigue, whereas the same amount of walking in a tropical climate would have been tiring, and extremely hot. As for the men, forty miles a day would not have exceeded their powers ; they were always on the heels of my horse, burdened though they were ; and they travelled with a long, slow, wolf-like stride that never slackened or altered, up-hill or down, no matter what the heat might be or how sharply the rough track inclined. Ba, the last fortress of civilization on the northern side of the great highland region I was to cross, is a half Fijian, half European town, very hot in the burning days of March, very much plagued with flies, fairly pretty, and inordinately devoted to the interests of the great sugar company. There is no escaping the Colonial Sugar Refining Company in Fiji, save in. the far interior. Thousands of acres are covered with the beautiful verdigris-green of the growing canes ; hundreds of the white population are employed as overseers, mechanics, clerks, and managers on the various estates; while as for the Indian, Polynesian, and Fijian labourers, they form a very large item indeed in the census returns of the islands. It was a splendid morning when I started off with my three Fijians, and the good Australian horse that a kindly resident had lent me, towards the black, lonely country of the brown men and women, away from white faces and white folks’ unnecessary luxuries, right into the wilds. i The weather was faultless, although the sun beat hotly on the unprotected track. Fiji has one of the few really satisfactory tropical climates of the world. Its hot season is never too hot to allow of travelling in the middle of the day, and its cool season is no warmer than an English summer. It is true that in February, the month when I commenced my travels, the power of the sun is almost alarming ; but sun- stroke is practically unknown in the island, and I rode all day with perfect safety, protecting myself from the scorching rays by a grass hat and a holland coat, worn over my thin cotton blouse. This is quite_necessary for riding in the hot season ; withoutyayegdtoone feels as

Page 228

A LADY IN FAR FIJI. though the flesh of one’s neck, arms, and shoulders would soon begin to crackle and cook. 7 All the hot morning I rode over rolling uplands of pandanus prairie, the air growing a little cooler as the heights increased, and the dark, threatening hill-ranges still barring the sky in front. The men, striding tirelessly along in the rear, caught up with the horse every time I stopped to walk. ‘They were a dandy trio, my three Fiji men—neatly dressed in white singlets and coloured cashmere sulus, finished off with a smart leather belt ; their hair trained, clipped, and oiled with the greatest care, and their personal luggage tidily packed away in Fijian trunks. A Fijian trunk is quite a curiosity in its way. It consists simply of an oblong kerosene tin, about eighteen inches by ten, cut in half lengthwise, and the halves fitted over each other after the fashion of those Japanese travelling baskets that have become so common of late years. Inside, the Fijian carries his clothes ; his sulus (a sulu is a piece of stuff two yards square, doubled, and fastened round the loins to form a kilt) of cotton, cashmere, or flannel ; his spare shirt or singlet, his bottle of cocoanut-oil, looking-glass and wooden comb, with teeth six inches long, his tobacco, and all the rest of his personal property, of every kind ! Contact with the white man has not driven out the stolid common sense of the Fiji man so far as to induce him to burden his life with unnecessary possessions. Your carrier is provided for six months with the contents of that little tin. He will always have clean clothes and a smartly-dressed head, out of its minute store of goods ; and as for his other wants, the ever- ready bush and river supply them. A razor? He will shave himself so clean with a chip of broken glass, or a piece of shell, that you will doubt his ever having had a beard. A sponge? Soap? Toothbrush? Green cocoanuts supply him with an oily, juicy husk that does the work of the first two; and ‘as for the third, he rinses his mouth after eating, and that is enough to keep his magnificent teeth in repair, even if he does put them to uses (such as tearing open tins that resist the tin-opener, and husking cocoanuts) that make the white man’s gtinders shiver sympathetically in their sockets. He does not wear shoes, even in the fullest of full dress, and the only use for a pocket-hand- kerchief that he knows is to stick it in the front of his singlet—for style. He wears a night- cap—that is, a deep band of stuff intended to keep his marvellous hair erect ; but any banana tree supplies him with that. So finely has he cut down the superfluities of life that he does hot even possess an inch of cotton stuff to 219 tie up a chance cut with. A bit of dried leaf, neatly tied on with banana fibre, will serve instead. With the inexhaustible bush to draw from he is never at a loss. About midday I felt hungry, and called a halt. Manassa, my personal servant and interpreter, came up for orders. There was a nice, shady little spot under a big rock, and it seemed an excellent place to boil the kettle, so I told him I would have some tea. A Fijian’s face is as plain a mirror of his passing thoughts as a child's. Manassa’s dark countenance expressed something like respectful scorn, if such an emotion were possible, as he replied, briefly :— “No water stop.” I felt first cousin to a fool as I shook my horse into a canter again. No water! The habits of the hotel-living tourist had not yet been fairly shed. How could I expect taps and filters on the Naloto Range ? Yet there was something curiously pleasant, that day and many days after, in the dependence on Nature herself that was involved in just such delays and searchings. No water for the children till Nature gave it ; no lemonade till we discovered a dozen great, golden lemons; no rope to tie up the bundles, if a store of slender, tough lianas was not at hand; no lantern for the dark, if kindly Dame Nature had not lit up the moon in time. I was meditating thus, on the bank of a glassy little stream, half an hour later, when the boys discovered that nobody had got any matches for the fire, and down I came with a run! I did not feel like Stanley now. Stanley would certainly have remembered the matches ; nor would he have forgotten to carry water, even if he had omitted from his outfit the bag of spotted buns with which the last trader I had visited had successfully tempted me. I did not feel that I ought to have had those buns. It was not like an explorer; it was sure to bring bad luck. And now there were no matches ! But Joni had got astride a bamboo that was lying on the ground, and began hacking at it with his knife, carving a small, deep groove in its flinty surface, and carefully shaping a splinter he had cut off from one of the broken ends. Now Nasoni seated himself opposite, and held down the bamboo with all his weight, while Joni rubbed the end of the splinter violently up and down in the groove. ‘The exertion was great, and he panted as he worked ; but it was several minutes before a little spire of smoke rose up from the groove, followed, shortly after, by just a tiny petal of orange flame. Nasoni was ready at once with a bit of crackling dricd leaf; and inyanother twenty seconds the fire

Page 229

220 THE WIDE was blazing and the billy was on, while the boys relaxed after their efforts and tumbled themselves lazily down in the grass. So I had really seen the famous South Sea method of making fire by rubbing two sticks together! I had always been rather sceptical about it at best, and certainly did not expect to - see a twentieth-century Fijian, who dressed in “store” cotton stuffs and went to church five times on a Sun- day, performing this famous savage feat. It was my first ex- ample of a truth most thoroughly rubbed in by sub- sequent events —that the Fiji- an’s civilization is only varnish- deep. Cannibal- ism has been abandoned, cruelty and tor- ture given up, and an ample amount of cloth- ing universally adopted, yet the Fijian of to-day, freed from the white control and example that have moulded all his life, would spring back like an unstrung bow to the thoughts and ways of his fathers. This is a truth doubted by no man who knows the inner life of Fiji. Taking things easily, and not at all troubled by the fact that I was not “making good time” (that fetish of the average traveller), I found myself in the afternoon well up the slopes of the Naloto Range, and entering the forest. For the best part of ten miles I had ridden through land that was absolutely deserted—land where the great rolling prairies stretched like a pale- green sea to right and left, unbroken save by the melancholy, mop-headed pandanus trees. There were no towns or houses, not so much as a stray native or a patch of yam or taro land to show that the country was of use to someone. And yet all the earth was thickly clothed with dense, rich, reedy grass, six to ten feet high, excellent food’ for horses, cattle, or sheep, while at every mile or two twinkling streams or deep-voiced torrents furrowed the heart of the valleys. ‘The men told me that there was a small village —Nandrungu—within a couple of miles ; and towards this we made, scrambling and clattering madly down the mountain side, to From a) WORLD NASON MAKES FIKE bY RUBBING TWO STICKS TOGETHER. _ gate and I rode into the village. MAGAZINE. cheat the growing dark. The black, monstrous peaks gloomed about us, sinister, strange, and evil in the grey-green dusk. The ten-foot reed- grass reared its melancholy heads above us like funeral plumes; my three wild-eyed Fijians tramped silently in the rear. Among these very peaks and in this valley that we were traversing I knew countless murders and ambushes had taken place and cannibal feasts been held in the stormy seventies. I was going to sleep in a native village, far from any white people; I could speak hardly anything of the language, and no white woman had ever before ventured through these regions alone. Indeed, so far as I know, I was the first white woman who had ever travelled through these mountains under any circum. stances. All this, in the uncanny dusk, among these wicked hills, made me feel rather uncomfortable, and I resolved to sleep with my revolver under my head when rest and shelter should at last be reached. In the pitch-dark we forded a river, allowing the horse to find his own way in and out, and at last came up.to a five-foot-high palisade of thick bamboos, surrounding a cluster of dim, tall objects that looked more like haystacks than anything else. My men lowered the bars of a All was dark and silent; but the men soon routed out the inhabitants of the biggest house, ran and looked for a light, and succeeded in finding a ship’s lantern, This they lit, and then proceeded unceremoniously to take possession of the house, lighting a fire in the small, square fire-pit near the door, “‘shooing” the sleepers out from under their mats on the floor, and depositing my various packages in convenient places. The inhabitants took all this quite as a matter of course, merely asking (or so I judged) who the marvellous apparition might be, and then squatting down outside the doorways to stare their fill in stolid amazement. While the men were making tea and opening atin of meat I looked about_me with intcrest, [Phow.

Page 230

A LADY IN FAR FIJI. 221 examining my quarters. The house was about thirty feet i. / fifteen or twenty. There was only one room. ‘The roof was very high, and sup- ported by a central post cut from a big bread- fruit tree. All round the walls were pillars, or rather pilasters, of similar wood, about four feet apart, while the rafters were of bamboo. Between the pillars of the walls was a fine tapestry-work of reeds, laced together with black and red sinnet (cocoanut fibre) woven in pretty patterns. The floor was covered with a neat parquet of interlaced slips of bamboo, hidden here and there by the sleeping-mats of fine plaited rush or pandanus. There were three doors, one in the gable end and one at each side, but no windows. I had been careful to enter by the side door, being warned by Manassa not on any account to go through the end door, which was for him and other kaisi (commoners), the side door being reserved for chiefs. The outside of the house, as I saw it next morning, was very neatly covered with reed- work, the roof being deeply thatched with dried grass. Like all mountain houses, it stood on an earthen platform about four feet high, paved with stones and surrounded by a shal- low ditch. Cocoanut logs, slightly notched, formed the only means of ascent to the doors. Nota nail was used in the whole building, everything being laced and tied together with sinnet. Presently some of the natives entered by the end door, carrying small plaited cocoanut-leaf mats, on which lay green banana- leaf platters full of baked yams. ‘These they placed at my feet, bowing low as they did so. I was glad of the yams, for I knew by experience in other islands what a_ satisfying food these crisp white tubers make, and the mountain air had made us all hungry. The natives and my men sat at a dis- tance watching me eat till I had done, and then divided the remains of the yams, also of my tinned meat and tea, among From a| themselves. Scrupulously just and generous they were over these fragments of rare luxury, although the Fijian loves tinned meat and tea as his own soul. One man would take a bite off a small piece, then hand it on to the next ; the recipient would have a bite in his turn, and immediately, with watering mouth, give the delicious morsel to someone else; and so it circulated till finished. / It was nearly time for bed now, so my men put up my mosquito-net on the bed-place, and told the Nandrungians that only the women might remain in the house for the night. This evidently impressed the Fijians as the funniest idea they had ever struck ; the men cackled with laughter at the notion of anyone's objecting to sleep in a miscellaneous crowd of both sexes, while the women crowed with triumph at having the wonderful marama (lady) all to themselves. It is not often that a Fijian woman gets a chance of making herself prominent, or THE INTERIOR OF A FIJIAN CHIEF'S HOUSE, SHOWING THE BEAUTIFUL TAPESTRY-WORK OF WOVEN KEEDS. [hoto,

Page 231

222 THE WIDE: WORLD MAGAZINE. getting the best of anything ; she is simply a drudge and a slave as a rule, eating the leavings of the men, doing all the hardest work, and being pushed into a corner at once if such a rarity as a white visitor passes through. This is done because it is not modest for her to talk to, or even look at, strange men, also because she is a dog and a slave, and does not count. Now the tables were turned with a vengeance, and the utter delight with which the women cleared the house, and ran about waiting on me after the men had gone, was something worth seeing. They screamed when I began to brush my hair, and remarked, in flattering tones, that it was like the tail of a horse! They went into hysterics of joy over all my clothes, uttered strange, savage “tck-tcks” of wonder at the riding-gloves I hung up to dry, and told each other that the marama wore “ tarowsis” on her hands—a word that I could easily translate without a dictionary. One young woman, shoe- brush-haired, wild-eyed, and long of tooth, caressed my arm in a passion of delight, even going so far as to set her teeth gently in the flesh, and exclaim, longingly, “ Vinaka na kakana!” (What good food !) I knew that she was too young to have been a cannibal, and that her exclamation was only a:compliment—somewhat left-handed, it is true—to my British skin; but the [7 remark was interest- ing to me, as an un- conscious outbreak of heredity. The young lady’s parents, a fine old couple re- siding in the next house, had, without any doubt at all, en- joyed many a hearty meal of human limbs in the good old days, when the forearm was always con- sidered the choicest and tenderest morsel. A Fijian bed is a curious resting-place, but not uncomfort- able to a tired tra- veller. It is an im- mense platform, about three feet high, occupying the whole end of the house, and covered with six or eight layers of clean cream-coloured mats, edged with tufts of red and blue wool. The foundation is made by placir , a big log across the end of the room and filling up the enclosed space with close-packed grass and fern. Pillows, made of a short section of bamboo trunk, lie about the platform ; the Fijians place them under their necks, Japanese fashion, to protect their wonderful heads of hair from dis- turbance. Fortunately for comfort, I had my own travelling cushion. The women lay on the floor, and I slept well on the big bed-place, although I felt in danger of losing myself, and rats, cats, bats, and scut- tering crawlies suggestive of centipedes created a sound of revelry by night all-over the excel- lent ballroom floor furnished by the dais, until six o’clock came and woke me up. The women, still exulting in their triumph, escorted me down to the river and showed mea deep, cool hole to bathe in. While I enjoyed a dip they sat on the bank and slapped their hands on the rocks, beating time to a strange, mono- tonous chorus in which they sang of my many wonders and virtues. These impromptu addresses in verse are very common in Fiji, and men and women alike are most skilful in im- provisation. It was rather a novelty to take one’s morning’ tub to the sound of a hymn eulogizing one’s clothes, remote an- cestors, rich posses- sions of tinned meats and biscuit, and gorgeous Turkey- cotton swimming- dress; but a tour through the Fijis is one continual suc- cession of humorous novelties, and one soon gets used to them. The little village looked indescribably quaint and pretty in the slanting rays of the early sun. It numbered only about a dozen houses, clustered on their tidy little green like toys on a table. The curious stands on which most Fijian mountain houses are perched added to the toylike appearance, and the immense bee-hive roofs of the

Page 232

A LADY older buildings stood up among the delicate young palms with the odd, almost sinister, effect that is a feature of all these lonely hill-fortresses. Everything was odd and new to me—the scanty sulus of the men and women, worn with- out upper clothing for the most part ; the long bamboos that stood in every house, to hold water, all the joints except the bottom one being skilfully pierced, so as to create a very useful water-vessel ; and the biy, frizzled head- dresses of the men, so much larger than the neat, small coiffurcs popular in the coast towns below. The Fijian of to-day seldom or never dresses his hair in the enormous mop of ancient times, for the early mis- sionaries insisted that all their converts — should show their abandonment of heathen ways by cutting their locks. Still, the hair of these islanders is so extraordinarily thick, stiff, and wiry that it can hardly be dressed after any Euro- pean fashion, and many heads may be seen in the mountains which, uncul- tivated and undressed save for the popular bleaching with lime and a yellow tint, display a ragged halo standing loosely out for at least a foot round the face.’ The Fijian who is care- ful of his hair—and most are—does not allow it to run wild like this. It is IN FIJIAN — NOTICE THE EXTRAORDINARY WAY OF FAR FIJI. 223 is freely used ; and the men constantly decorate their heads by sticking scarlet or white flowers into them, exactly as one sticks pins into a pin- cushion. I may here observe that Nasoni, anxious to make an impression on the hearts of the country maidens, turned up for the start one morning with his mahogany bush of hair adorned with two kinds of red flowers, three kinds of white, a bunch of green and white ribbon grass, and an aigrette of fern! It rained a little after we started, but Nasoni protected his elegant coiffure with a giant taro leaf some four feet by three, held up umbrella- wise by the stalk, and did not get a drop. The rain soon cleared off and we covered some sixteen miles by the after- noon, journeying for the most part along the crests of narrow ridges sur- rounded by a sea of the most magnificent _ hill- scenery in all Fiji. Never before had I witnessed the solid lap of Mother Earth toned up into such strange tumult as_ this. The worn-out term “ roll- ing mountains” exactly describes the general ap- pearance of the Fiji high- lands, for they seen ever about to break in colossal waves upon the valleys and rivers below. For many miles there was no sign of human life; then, looking down from a windy crest of up- his chief object in life, rape ae DRESSING THE HALK. (/4ow. — land, we saw a tiny vil- first to train his stiff lage, Tambalé, nestling locks to stand on end, and secondly to far below in a deep wooded cleft of the hills. cut and trim them into the neatest possible busby, some six inches high. At night, and when in deshabille, he wears a compressing band. When the hair is long and erect enough, he takes a looking-glass and scissors, gives the latter to a friend, and holds the former himself, critically observing the friend as he clips and shapes the dense bush with wonderful skill. There are fashions in Fijian hairdressing ; at present the favourite mode is to shape the hair off the forehead in a deep, slightly overhanging bevel, curved sharply outwards at the temples so as to make a bush at each side of the head. The rest of the hair is rounded off so neatly that it looks like a block of black or yellow wood, several inches deep. Cocoanut oil, scented with flowers, We passed this by, but afterwards came upon an occasional small patch of yam or taro or banana; and soon the dark red variegated crotons and dracenas, planted along the track, showed us that we were nearing Nam- buknya, the principal “town” of the district, where the mbuli, or local chief, had his dwelling. I wish I could describe Nambuknya as I saw it on that golden afternoon, sleeping among the slanting shadows of its rich orange-groves, in the round, green cup of a highland valley. On three sides of the little town the hills rose up like fortress walls of purple porphyry ; but on the fourth the lip of the cup was broken, and through the bye@k one saw, dim and delicate

Page 233

224 THE WIDE WORLD From a) and shadowy-pencilled, the far-off pale - blue plains of half a province lying below. All the pretty toy houses dotted about the neat little lawns were quiet when I jumped my horse over the bars and entered the bamboo fence ; for the people had gone away to dig in the yam-fields and cut bananas. Just on my left rose, tier after tier, a strange erection of fences, decorated with handsome, large-leaved water-plants standing in an inch or so of clear water. From terrace to terrace a tiny stream slipped downwards, losing itself at last in the river below. Nasoni and Joni told me that this really beautiful piece’ of landscape gardening was a ndalo bed, where the ndalo, one of Fiji's most important roots, was grown in the slowly- running water that suited it best. I may here remark that Nasoni, who was the biggest and very much the ugliest of my men, was evidently the beau of the party from the Fijian point of view; for when we left the village a day or two later Manassa and Joni were allowed to go without remark, while a plump young woman in a lilac sulu and an arsenic-green pini, or tunic, followed the appa- rently unconscious Nasoni to the farthest out- skirts of the fence, sobbing unrestrainedly and hanging on to his arm in an ecstasy of grief. I am bound to say that Nasoni acted exactly as if she were not there, and walked away, when she finally loosened her clasp, without a single look or word. Like beauty men of other nations, he evidently set a fair value on himself. Our entry into the village roused out one or two lazy sleepers, who hurried forward in great excitement, for word had gone on of our coming and we were expected. ‘The native mission- teacher’s wife was sent for, and informed me that the mbuli, or district chief, was away, so I must come to her house. She proudly showed me in; and, indeed, the house was an excuse A TYPICAL VIEW FROM THE MAGAZINE, (Photo. for pride. Big as a ballroom and cool as a cave in all that burning heat, it had an immense floor space of the cleanest possible mats, gaily edged with tufts of scarlet, orange, green, pink, blue, violet, black, and white wools (of European make, these last). The great dim roof rose far overhead, unlighted ; but the three doors that pierced the windowless walls gave each a dif- ferent view of exquisite beauty, spread out below the lofty platform of green lawn on which the house was built. The walls were three feet thick, covered inside with elegant reed and sinnet work, and outside with a deep thatch of gtass and leaves that made the house look like an immense bird’s nest. Now, and many times after, I was struck with the common sense shown in the design of these Fijian houses, and the excellent way in which they shut out the heat. I have never once felt hot in a Fijian house, no matter what the temperature outside might be, although European houses are often oppressively warm in the hot season. Great was the excitement when the villagers came back and found that the long-expected traveller was really there. A bush town in Australia visited by an unexpected circus may furnish a feeble parallel, or a remote English village upon which a black princess with her suite should suddenly descend. The material furnished for chatter and discussion was, of course, invaluable. The two great ends of a Fijian’s existence are eating and talking ; he is always ready for either in unlimited quantities. Five pounds’ weight of solid yam is the minimum allowance for a single man’s meal among all employers of Fijian labour, and the abnormal capacity for eating which this suggests is fully balanced by the appetite for talk possessed by these mighty trenchermen. Wherever I s, ent a.night the greater part of the villagesatoup, to talk till rodrning. In the

Page 234

A LADY IN nearest houses I could hear the faint buzz going on for hour after hour as 1 slept and woke and slept again ; and I knew that in every house the same eayer catechizing of my men was going on, and the same endless discussion of my hair, teeth, eyes, nose, blouses, ties, belts, pins, shirts, shoes and shoelaces, manners, temper, religion, age, history, financial position, relations, inten- tions, possessions and characteristics of every kind, down to the buckles on my side-saddle, and the things I had been heard to say when I stepped on a nest of wood-centipedes. But the folk in Nambuknya were considerate and polite, in spite of their burning curiosity, and when I lay down on the mats to rest they softly closed the doors and slipped away one by one, leaving me with nothing but the murmur of the hill winds about the house-top for company and a gentle twilight to encourage sleep. Later on came a feast — baked yam, and the great blue roots of the ndalo, served with the inevitable mur- dered fowl that is always given to a guest in Fiji. They do not truss fowls in the Fiji Islands, but serve them up with widely diver- gent legs and wings, ghastly screwed neck still decorated by the protesting head, beak wide open, Bron and blank boiled eyes astare. After I had fed, the Turanga ni Koro (headman of the town) came in with a formal gift of uncooked yams and a great yanggona root, which he laid at my feet with an elaborate speech. Yanggona (the “kava” of the Eastern Pacific) is the universal drink of Fiji. It is the hard, woody root of a handsome bush (piper methysticum) which grows freely in the mountains. The Fijians prepare the root by grating or pounding, pour water over the powdered mass, and strain it through a wisp of bark fibre. ‘The resulting drink looks like muddy water, and tastes much the same, with a flavour of pepper and soap added. One 2: ei. THE GREAT YANGGONA KOOT THAT WAS P a Ihote. VAR FIJI. 225 soon gets to like it, however, and, drunk in moderation, it is extremely refreshing and thirst-quenching. The Vijians do not drink moderately, I regret to say ; they often sit upall night over their yanggona, drinking until they are stupefied and sleepy and quite unable to walk—for yanggona, taken in excess, paralyzes the legs for an hour or two, even though the head may be quite clear. I understood native customs sufficiently to give back the root to the donor, with many thanks, and request that it should be prepared for the people. We had, therefore, a single brewing from a portion of the root, little ceremony being made over the drinking, although the people clapped their hands loudly when the first cup was brought over to me. This is a form of greeting used for chiefs. ‘The Turanga ni Koro, a rather unimport- ant personage, of no lofty descent, was the only digni- tary present, so the affair was neces- sarily informal. In almost all the Pacific Islands kava (yanggona) is the favourite drink of the natives. Its connection with early religious ceremonies is obvious, since if is generally pre- pared with great solemnity, and according to a prescribed _ ritual. Women and youths are not usuall; allowed to drink it. Having finished the first bowl (which was prepared in a tin basin, as the mission-teacher’s house does not own a real yanggona bowl) most of the natives withdrew to another house with the root and the bark strainer; and I am of opinion that they kept it up that night until every bit of the great root, which weighed at least a couple of stone, was finished. At all events, my men were very sleepy next morning, and informed me, with a satisfied air, that Nambuknya was “plenty good place.” NTED TO THE AUTHORESS, (To be continued.) Vol. xviii, - 29

Page 235

“Bud” Turner, of Missouri. By Harry M. VERNON. Being the lurid life-story of a remarkable man who for twenty years acted as sheriff of “the toughest county on earth.” desperadoes who ever terrorized the Western States of America. In this capacity he hunted down and exterminated many of the most notorious When he finally laid aside his weapons “ Bud" Turner had accounted, single-handed, for the lives of no fewer than forty-two men, and had earned the grim sobriquet of “America’s champion man-killer” ! HERE has just died peacefully in Taunton, Missouri, U.S.A., at the |] age of seventy-four, Mr. “Bud” Turner, who was popularly known as “America’s champion man-killer.” During his lifetime this remarkable individual accounted for the lives of no fewer than forty-* two men, each of whom he slew single-handed, “for the good of the com- munity.” Lest such a usually “ lasted ” about one day, and then either gave up their jobs in despair or were buried in a plain wooden box. Every man carried a brace of six-shooters, and used them, too, on the slightest provocation—or none at all. Cold. blooded murders were matters of hourly occur- rence, and might was right everywhere. One day there sauntered into the mining camp of Gold City, Colo- rado, a young fellow sanguinary record should lead the reader to think Turner was some quarrel- some desperado, I hasten to add that for twenty £ years he was first deputy a and then sheriff of what was significantly styled “the toughest county on earth.” Turner's exploits will live for ever in the chcquered annals of Western _his- tory, and his name is held in positive veneration by many people in the Far West, for a braver man never lived. In 1864, after the great goldfields of California had in a measure become worked out, many of the miners struck camp and headed “ne” for the States of Colo- rado and Dakota, gold and copper having been found there in large quantities. All the gamblers, “ blacklegs,” and “crooks” in the States had migrated to the gold lands, and every outlaw and desperado wanted by the police was living in comparative safety somewhere in the Far West. Saloons, dance - halls, and gambling dens all did a flourishing business, and law and order were minor quantities, for the appointed officers es al TURNER, OF MISSOURI. From a Drawing by L. heavily laden with miners’ equipment. He was a stranger, and spoke to no one in passing. Walking up the main street of the little town, he stopped before the Palace Saloon, and, depositing his pack on the side-walk, went inside and asked for a bottle of “something soft.” “Soft” drinks, I should explain, was the term given by the miners to soda-water and other non-intoxicants. ‘There was a loud laugh among the Aaditués of the place at this unusual re- quest, and a brawny six- footer called out, mock- ingly, “ Better drink milk, sonny ; then your ma won't scold ye.” Without heed- ing the interruptions the young stranger again asked quietly for some soda. ‘Thereupon the bar-tender, disgusted at his pertinacity, struck him in the face with a sponge saturated with water. “Ts that soft enough for ye?” he asked, derisively. The stranger slowly wiped his face; then he walked round behind the bar, picked the astonished bar-tender up bodily, and threw him M. Carpenter,

Page 236

“BUD” TURNER, OF MISSOURI. 227 “HOLBING HIM AT AKM'S LENGTH, HE ADMINISTERED A THRASHING THE MAN NEVER FORGOT.” heavily against the wall. Next, holding him at arm’s length, and ignoring the fellow’s frantic struggles, he administered a thrashing the man never forgot. Dropping his victim in a corner, he coolly and deliberately helped himself to a bottle of soda-water, threw the money on the counter, and walked quietly out of the place, leaving the assembled miners struck dumb with amazement at his nerve. This was “Bud” Turner’s first introduction to Gold City. After some days’ prospecting the young fellow staked out a claim and busied himself about his own camp, never seeming to care for the company of the other miners. One night, after a lucky day, ‘“ Bud” went into the ‘‘town,” which consisted of some dozen wooden shanties that existed under the courtesy titles of “hotels,” “bars,” and ‘dancing pavilions.” Just as he reached the first of these he was grasped from behind, thrown violently to the ground, and brutally kicked about the body by the bar-tender whom he had thrashed some time before. The man had lain in wait for him with several companions, and now meant to have his revenge. Half dazed, Turner struggled to his feet, and, being unarmed, fought his assailants with bare fists. With smashing bldws the young miner turned upon them, taking care to keep the men in front of him. Paying particular attention to his old enemy the bar-tender, “Bud” dropped him with a stinging blow on the chin. Two of the others, in sheer admiration at Turner's pluck, ranged themselves on_ his side, and the trio soon routed the others, who fled discomfited. After this little fracas, the particulars of which soon got noised abroad, ‘Turner was spoken of, in the ex- pressive slang of the West, as a “nervy kid,” and was consequently left alone, it being seen he was no easy customer to interfere with. Not long afterwards the sheriff of Belknap County was shot and killed in a brawl at one of the dance-halls. Turner, who had gone to his assistance, was also badly wounded, but not until he had “dropped” his assailant and put an end to the fight by shooting the lamps from their sockets. When “Bud” recovered he was unani- mously elected deputy-sheriff, the former deputy taking his deceased chief’s place. Turner’s first chance to distinguish himself in his new position came while assisting William F. Cody (“ Buffalo Bill”) in the capture of a noted desperado named Wiley, who, at the head of a gang of cut-throats, had been “holding up ” and robbing the wagons of settlers crossing the plains. “Buffalo Bill” was at this time a scout in the service of the United States Government, and Wiley had threatened to kill him “on sight.” “Tt being known that the desperado’s gang was somewhere in the vicinity, a posse was formed to capture them. The night before the attempt was to be made, as luck would have it, ‘ Bud” met Wiley by accident, some miles out on the plain. Both men were on_horseback,* and in the moonlight could see each other distinctly. Wiley opened fire at long range, galloping his horse in a circle so as to gradually close in on the other horseman. The young deputy, sitting low in his saddle, put spurs to his mustang and thundered towards him. Waiting until he was close up, he dropped his reins, drew both his revolvers, and opened a deadly fusillade, with

Page 237

228 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the result that the outlaw dropped from his saddle riddled with bullets. Bud” jumped from his horse, placed the body of the dead man across the front of his saddle, and, remounting, rode into town, where he deposited his burden taking aim lying on his back, shot McNair through the heart. By this time “Bud” had been promoted, and was now a full-fledged sheriff. 1t was about this period when the famous gang of outlaws “HE DREW BOTH HIS REVOLVERS AND OPENED A DEADLY FUSILLADE." before “ Buffalo Bill’s” tent, with the laconic intimation: “ Here’s your man, Cody.” In the first two years during which Turner served as deputy he “answered” for sixteen men, among them being “ Jim” McNair, “the Terror of the North-West,” a cowardly renegade who used his knowledge of the white man’s ways in assisting the Indians. McNair it was who with his own hand killed an entire family of six by tomahawking them before the eyes of their hapless mother. Turner followed this brute over the plains for weeks, finally run- ning him down at a ranch in Dakota. McNair heard of Turner’s proximity, and when “ Bud” rode up McNair fired from behind a fence, the bullet knocking off the officer’s hat. Turner promptly fell off his horse as though shot, and while on the ground drew his revolver, and, called “Kid Morgan’s Rangers. was at the height of its evil career. This gang was perhaps the most notorious the West has ever known, their speciality being “ rustling,” or the stealing of cattle. No one knew exactly who the members were ; one’s own neighbour even might possibly be a “Ranger.” ‘Thousands of cattle were stolen, and no one dared say a word for fear of incurring the displeasure of so powerful and mysterious an organization. Finally, after a more than usually bold raid on their part, “Bud” determined to capture them at all costs, and sallied out at the head of a small posse of trusted men. He trailed the members of the gang who were concerned in this particular job for over six hundred miles, and finally succeeded in cornering them in Kalor Canyon, Colorado, at_a place known as { er GOO IC

Page 238

“BUD” TURNER, OF MISSOURI. : 229 “TAKING AIM LVING ON HIS MACK, HE SHOT MCNAIR THROUGH THE HEART." “Bloody Canyon.” Here, between two almost perpendicular cliffs, a desperate battle ensued, out of which only four men emerged to tell the tale. Creeping. from boulder to boulder, firing incessantly on the retreating cattle-thieves, the sheriff’s little band fought their way forward until, there being no further cover available, the sixteen pursuers found themselves face to face with forty desperate cattle-thieves. The struggle that ensued is almost without a parallel in Western history for the desperate valour and dogged resolution displayed on both sides. When it was over, and the acrid fumes of the powder-smoke had cleared away, only three of “ Bud’s” party, including himself, and one of Morgan’s men survived, and then only because there was no more ammunition. In this fight Turner afterwards admitted having accounted for eight men. The sheriff’s next encounter was a species of duel between himself and ‘Doc ” Howard, a cold- blooded murderer and horse-thief, in attempting to arrest whom Turner was wounded no fewer than five times. Howard and he came face to face un- expectedly in a bar-room, and immediately emptied their revolvers at each other at less than arm’s length. Howard was killed on the spot, and “ Bud” was out of action for some months ‘as the result of his in- juries. Hardly had he left his bed, however, when, single- handed, this remarkable man arrested four half- breed _horse-thieves— but not before his unerring re- volver had again spoken and added yet another to his grim list of “ casual- ties.” During the depredations of the world-famous Jesse James gang of train-robbers and bank-thieves, ‘ Bud ” Turner was given a roving commission by the United States Government, through Governor Critten- den, of Missouri, to hunt the miscreants down. He chased the gang through six States, covering an area of five thousand miles in his tireless quest. It was at this time that the famous meeting took place between Turner and Jesse James, the leader of the band—a meeting which proved that James, although an outlaw with a price of twenty thousand dollars on his head, was also a brave man with some good in his composition. Turner, after a ride of two days with hardly a minute out of the saddle, had reached Taunton completely tired out, faint with hunger, and in a high fever. He walked into an eating-house, called for some food, and almost immediately fell asleep at the table, with his head resting on his arms. Suddenly he was tapped on the shoulder rather vigorously, and, raising his head sleepily, saw standing. beside him the redoubt- able Jesse James himself! James held a Colt ‘48 in his hand, within an inch of Turner’s temple. “Looks as if I had you right, eh, Bud?” said James, with a grim smile. “Tt does look that way,” was the calm reply. “Well, don’t prolong the agony. Fire away !”

Page 239

230 THE “THEY EMPTIED THEIR REVOLVERS AT EACH OTHER AT LESS THAN ARM'S LENGTH.” James, however, could not bring himself to kill his man in cold blood, even though he knew full well that it was to track him down that Turner had come thus far. “T don’t want to shoot you, Bud,” he said ; “but I tell you this. If you ain't fifty miles from here by six o'clock to-night, the boys will have no mercy on you.” “You'd better shoot right away, Jesse,” answered Turner. “I am here to take you, and it is either that or you take me.” James now noticed for the first time that “Bud” had left his revolvers in their holsters on his saddle, Turner being consequently un- armed. ‘Thereupon the outlaw put his gun into the holster, sat down at the table, and called for two drinks. He solemnly touched glasses with Turner; then, rising, said: “It’s a pity you ain’t one of us, Bud! Just sit where you are for five minutes, until I get to my horse.” Backing to the door, he smiled and called out, “The next time, I suppose, we'll both shoot, eh ?” “Both,” answered the sheriff, laconically. WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. James then disappeared. ‘Turner ate his meal quietly, convinced that sooner or later he would catch his man. This once, however, he was wrong, for Jesse James was brutally murdered—shot in the back, some time later, by ‘“ Bob” Ford, one of his own men. Curiously enough, however, it was “Bud” Turner who avenged his death by captur- ing Ford and delivering him up to the authorities. Previous to Jesse James’s death, in a fight between “ Bud” ‘Turner's posse and the James gang, six- teen men were killed, but both the Jameses—Jesse and Frank —escaped. During the next few years Turner killed—by actual Go- vernment statistics—seventeen men, including such famous bad characters as “ Kid” Hender- son, Bob” Aiken, Dick Cole, and another “Wild West” celebrity, “Tim” King. After Turner's right arm was amputated — the result of a knife wound given him by the famous ‘Calamity Jane,”* who, in an endeavour to protect a man whom Turner had arrested, attacked him with a bowie-knife —the veteran sheriff retired, hoping to live a quiet life in his native State. But it was not to be. Walk- ing down the street one day, “Bud” was attacked by the brother of a desperado whom he had killed, and in self-defence shot and killed this man also. ‘Then, for the first time in his life, “Bud” was brought to trial, but was acquitted. When King Edward, as Prince of Wales, visited the United States, ‘“ Bud” was one of the party—which included such other notables as “Texas Bill” and Sam Kellogg—who acted as guides to the Prince on several of his hunt- ing expeditions. “Bud” died very peacefully, leaving two stalwart sons to carry on his work. Both of them, as might perhaps have been expected, are deputy-sheriffs in the State of Missouri, U.S.A., where, in the bad old days, their father earned his grim sobriquet of “ America’s champion man-killer.” “A full account of this remarkable woman's career appeared in our is te for Navg., 1903. —Epe

Page 240

MY MOTOR-TRIP TO CONSTANTINOPLE. By Roserr L. Author of ** Across Siberia on a Bicycle,” “A New Ride to Khiva,” Jerrerson, F.R.G.S., ete, ete. This cxclusively-written narrative of Mr. Jefferson's novel and adventurous motor-journey across the Balkans, through Ssrvia, Bulgaria, and Turkey, to Cons:antinople, will be of great interest to our readers, many of whom will remember the author's daring cycle ride to Khiva, described in these pages a few years ago. Mr. Jefferson was the first man to drive an automobile in Turkey, mo:oring being strictly prohibited in the Ottoman Empire. It was only when His Majesty the Sultan granted a special Imperial irade that the author was allowed to cross the frontier on his car and successfully comple-e his record trip. Sg LATED with the success which had } attended our somewhat novel method } of crossing the Bulgarian frontier, we jogged along merrily enough, although our pace was miserable, for the roadway was bestrewn with huge stones and any attempt at speed would have resulted in disaster. We had projected Sofia as the terminus of the day’s drive, but before reaching the Bulgarian capital it would be necessary for us to traverse the historic Dragoman Pass. I remembered that on my bicycle ride this pass had been one of the most formidable portions of the journey, and it remained to be discovered whether the car would be able to negotiate what the bicycle had successfully accomplished. Over some toughish uplands we plodded ; then the hills once more closed in. Away ahead we espied a railway bridge, spanning the River Nishava ; next, quite suddenly, we entered the pass. It was a wild and picturesque gorge, with a roar- ing torrent running cheek by jowl with the roadway ; but, rounding a bad corner, there was an abrupt termination to the road, and I pulled up the car within inches of the brink of a ten-foot drop into the river. Here, evidently, a bridge span- ning the stream had once existed, for on the opposite bank I could see traces of the road and some rotting timbers tumbled amongst the rocks. So little traffic now exists over the Balkans by road that the authorities no doubt considered the erection of a bridge in these later days an unnecessary expense. But here was I with a motor-car, a ten-foot drop into the river, and with all the probabilities and From a) IL. improbabilities of ever getting across con- fronting me. I sent Robert to investigate. He scrambled down the bank, sounded the depths, and came . back with a serious face. “We might manage to get her along the bed of the river,” he said; “but the other bank is steeper than this.” I reconnoitred personally, and found the ‘opposite bank almost perpendicular—- certainly impossible for the car to climb by its own power. However, something had to be done. While I balanced the car on the edge of the bank my engineer moved some of the biggest stones from the river-bed. Then, setting the car going, I (Photo. A BAD BLT IN THE DIAG YRPAN) HyS3.

Page 241

232 THE let it slither down into the stream, keeping the front wheels straight so far as my strength would allow, so as to prevent the machine turning bodily over. We struck bottom with a big splash, and I was glad to find that the water barcly came up to the axles. Bumping over the stones and sand I gradually approached the opposite bank. Once I got stuck, and only by racing the wheels did I prevent the car from settling in deep mud. Then came the problem of climbing _ the opposite bank—a veritable precipice in minia- ture. I made a rush for it, ina flurry of sand and water, and actually got up a few yards. Then the power failed, and, with a disappointed sigh, the car sank back into the stream. Again and again I at- tempted theascent, but with no better result. Even after we had, by the aid of our somewhat primitive tools, en- deavoured to rake earth and_ stones away, so as to make the incline less abrupt, we had to acknowledge ourselves defeated. There was no- thing for it now but to wait until somebody adven- tured on the scene. There was the bare chance that a team of mulcteers might come along who could render us that help of which we stood so sorely in need. So it was in a somewhat anxious frame of mind that we ate our midday meal of sardines and bread, with the car still lying helpless in the bed of the stream. An hour or more passed by, and then we heard the sound of shrill whistling and_ singing in the distance, and soon round a bend of the pass came some twenty or more muleteers, lead- ing their heavily-laden beasts. ‘They made a picturesque group, for the Bulgarian national costume is one of the most gorgeous of the Orient. Their surprise at-sveing us may be better imagined than described, but when I explained to them in pantomime the state of affairs, and pulled out a handful of money and showed it, From a) ——S— ASSISTING THE CAX OUT OF THE RIVER-KED. WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. there was no hesitancy in their action. Twenty pairs. of willing hands were soon at work, the engine was started, and with a cheer the last rush, and a successful one, was made at that twelve-foot embankment. Then came the distribution of the money, a duty performed by the most truculent-looking member of the band ; then with handshakes and much doffing of astrakhan and woolly caps, and many wishes for a happy journey, we set off southward once more. The day wore slowly along as we rumbled tediously through the narrow defile. Now and again some obstacle or another would mean an irritating delay, but at length the hills fell away to the right and left, and away ahead we espied the plains border- ing upon Sofia. ———— The afternoon aly was well advanced by the time we rolled into the little village of Slivnitza, where reeking mud and refuse came over the rims of the wheels. In_ this hamlet, rendered famous by the great Balkan battle, we received a taste of Bulgarian inhospi- tality. Whether it was on account of the car, or whether it was the fact that I was unable to make them under- stand my wishes, I know not, but not only were we re- fused food at the (Photo. only mehana, but we were openly flouted and almost thrown out. Still, Sofia was not a long way off, and we set the car at work again—fearful, however, for our front axle, which had become badly bent in the passage of the river in the Dragoman Pass. Naturally, to the motorist, the condition of roads is of prime importance, and the success or failure of a project such as mine rests almost entirely upon the quality of the road surface. There are impossibilities even to the most modern method of locomotion, and for success- ful motoring of any description fair roads are an absolute necessity. I was now experiencing what I then considered to be the worst portion of the journey. SHARING THE SPOILS — THE MULETEERS DIVIDE THR MONEY RECFIVED FOR

Page 242

MY MOTOR-TRIP ‘TO CONSTANTINOPLE. 233 it cleven years previously. In 1894 Sofia was not much more than an ordinary Turkish township. Under the reign of Prince Ferdinand wonderful progress has been made. As far as possible all traces of Orientalism have been swept away; the old bazaars and narrow, filthy streets which once constituted Sofia have been erased, and in their place broad thoroughfares with handsome houses have sprung up. Elec- tric light and electric trams, fine hotels, big squares, and public parks make this city almost fit to vie with the more northern European centres. I have already written of the consignment of petrol which my Servian friend had assured me would be in Sofia on my arrival. My first inquiries, of ON THE ROAD TO SOFIA. (Photo, course, were with respect to From a) this all-important spirit. Sir Since the railway had been built to Constan- George Buchanan, the British Ambassador, how- tinople, about the year 1885, the Bulgarian ever, bad heard nothing of it—and then I began roads have never been repaired. ‘Their con- > dition, therefore, after twenty years of neglect hare! fo may be imagined. Overgrown with grass. in places, worn into huge ruts in others, broken up and converted into deep chan- nels filled with mud, and crossed by occasional small streams innocent of bridges, they are truly awful from the point of view of the hapless traveller. I was not sorry, there- fore, when a smoky haze in the distance indicated the proximity of Sofia. Just before sundown houses began to spring up to right and left, and we entered a broad boulevard, to seek the hospitality of the Grand Hotel de Bulgarie, in the square where stands the Palace of Prince Ferdinand of - Bulgaria. We stayed three days in Sofia, and meanwhile my engineer worked hard to repair the damage which the car had sus- tained ex route. I surprised A VIFW IN OLD SOFIA, to note the enormous improve ment which bad taken place in the capital since I had visited — Vol. xviii, 30. Digitized b ¢ ,00gle

Page 243

234 THE WIDE WORLD From a) A BULGARIAN ‘‘ PONY-EXPRESS, to grow anxious. Visits to the Customs-house and to the railway station elicited the infor- mation that nothing of the kind had reached Sofia, and that nothing had been heard either of the petrol or the excellent gentleman who had consigned it. Matters, therefore, came to an impasse. To proceed with the amount of petrol which I still possessed was out of the question, for there was not enough to last me to the Turkish frontier. Telegraphic inquiries were sent to the frontier, and even to Belgrade, but still no information of a definite or reassuring nature could be obtained. The petrol, I was assured, had been duly dispatched on a certain date, but where it was at the moment nobody in Servia or Bulgaria seemed to be able to tell. There were only two ways out of the diffi- culty. The one was to endeavour to convert the carburettor of the engine so that we could use ordinary paraffin as fuel—a hazardous method. The other was to return by train to Vienna and there endeavour to bring back to Sofia a sufficient supply to last us to Constanti- nople. It was when I was almost at my wits’ ends that I was made aware of a fact of which up to then I had been entirely ignorant. ‘That was that Prince Ferdinand himself possessed a motor-car. Here, then, was a possible solution to the problem. His Highness, I learned, was in Paris, being féted by President Loubet, but the Overstall- metster, Baron Ebner, who had charge of the Prince’s car, was in Sofia. To get an introduc- tion to this gentleman was not very difficult, and I was gratified to find in him a thorough sportsman. He listened to the story of my trouble with great interest, and promptly offered me a sufficient supply of petrol to last me to Constantinople. MAGAZINE. This difficulty solved, the next one concerned what the Bulgarian authorities proposed to do with me in connection with the frontier episode. When Sir George Buchanan heard of the nefarious manner in which I had treated Bulgaria’s frontier he looked extremely grave ; but I pointed out to him the great difficulties I had experienced in getting into Servia, and that it was fear of similar treatment at the Bulgarian outpost which dominated my somewhat novel action. But I think that what saved me from a serious complication with the Bulgarian officials was the humour of the exploit. With over twenty armed soldiers stationed at the frontier, a motor-car charging down upon them at full speed had defeated them more signally than a whole regiment of Servian military might have done. One or two of the military officials who heard of my adventure treated the matter as a great joke, and I think it was this feeling more than anything else that saved me from getting into a rather serious scrape. Southwards from Sofia, the road was to lead me through Ichtiman, ‘Tatar-Bazardjik, Philip popolis, and Khaskoi to Hermanli, soon after which the Turkish frontier would have to be crossed. Baron Ebner was good enough to inform me that I might expect better roads in Eastern Roumelia, after leaving Philippopolis, but his experiences of those over the first thirty miles, while driving the Prince’s car, were the reverse of reassuring. The necessary repairs having been effected, Robert reported the car in good condition and, barring accidents, fully capable of accomplish- ing the remainder of the journey. If we could get over the first fifty miles from Sofia we were promised a fairly decent run to the Turkish frontier, but the first set-back I received was the news that the bridge across the River Golema Isker, twelve kilometres southward, had been washed away by the floods and that there was no possibility of getting across. The river was wide, twenty feet deep, and very swift. Repairers had been working night and day to get the bridge into a passable condition, but I was informed that at least a week must elapse before any vehicle could venture across it. ‘To stay a week in Sofia was almost out of the question. Boats sufficiently big to carry the car across the river did not exist, and in desperation

Page 244

MY MOTOR-TRIP TO CONSTANTINOPLE. 235 I bethought me of endeavouring to get a raft made on which to make the passage. Finally, I made an excursion to the scene of the disaster and discovered, to my relief, that the repairs which had been effected were sufficiently good to enable me, with care, to manipulate the car across. Thus one wretchedly cold morning, with snow lying two to three inches deep on the streets of Sofia, a blustering wind blowing, and sleet descending in sheets, we set out once more for the south. Sir George Buchanan had ridden out on his horse to report on the bridge, and we met him at the banks of the river. The timbered structure looked very frail, but I thought it sufficiently strong to bear the weight of the car, though every here and there yawned huge gaps which would have to be carefully avoided. So it was with the engine running dead slow that we attempted the passage. The slightest swerve would have meant the car and its occupants being precipitated into the river below ; but, happily, the little machine managed the task successfully, and, with a final wave of the hand to Sir George, away we went over a tolerable road towards Ichtiman. While in Sofia I had been introduced to a gentleman who ‘was correspondent of an American newspaper. He had been specially sent out to the Balkans to inquire into the condition of the Macedonians and the fighting which had taken place in the vilayets of Adrianople and Monastir. As I should have to pass across the first-named vilayet he told me that, while there was not any great danger of molestation, it might be just as well if my project was known to the Macedonian Committee. I was informed, too, that numerous bands were already on their way to the Turkish frontier, and that the summer of 1906 would see a re-enactment of those san- guinary squabbles which yearly bring the everlasting Eastern question vividly to the forefront. One probability of interference was that my car might scare the horses of some Bulgarian band and the men seek retaliation. However, while I was not so foolhardy as en- tirely to scout the idea of molesta- tion, I did not think it necessary to adopt the suggestion that the Bulgarian Macedonian Committee should send word forward inform- ing the bands of my coming. Still, it is interesting to record that on our journey through Bulgaria and MY a Ik \ rN \ FY NN a a Fron a) Eastern Roumelia great caravans were overtaken making their way southwards. What was my astonishment, on more than one occasion when the car was rolling past these bands, to hear my name passed from one man to the other; so that it was evident the news of my coming had in some way or another been communicated to them. Ichtiman was a tumble-down village of wood and plaster houses. It became clear now that we were gradually nearing the land of the Turk. - One street was calf-deep in filthy mud ; half, or more than half, the populace wore the shalwars and fez of the Ottoman. The mehana we put up at was filthy to a degree, and the food we obtained of the most meagre and unappetizing character. Then the local police took us in charge. With clattering scabbards and obtrusively dis- played pistols, four stalwart Bulgarian policemen raided our bedroom, sat on our beds, and put question after question to me concerning my proposed journey southward. Then the Governor of Ichtiman came, the local doctor, and all the notabilities of the place. It was evident that the Bulgarian Government did not intend me to come to any harm, especially in Ichtiman. Next morning the local constabulary held the curious crowd back with the flat of the sword when we ventured forth. : We were now in the valley of the Maritza, and I was delighted to find the road improve amazingly. ‘Tatar-Bazardjik was reached at oC4 CCl a RRC LATTE Oe 1 5O. £OLGSOSGIGSOSGSOSO SCY TWO MACKDONIAN REVOLUTIONARY feAbpRE -HUGA VIE AUTHOR MET ON THE waa) OG hot.

Page 245

THE 236 THE VILLAGE OF ICHTIMAN, From a Photo. midday, and an endeavour was here made to obtain food. So great, however, was the mob which surrounded us when we stopped in the narrow street that I was forced to give up all notion of endeavouring” to obtain refresh- ment. and children which surged around the car, felt the spokes, the tyres, and listened to the throb of the engine, while wearing the most amazed expressions of counte- nance. So I set off again, glad to get away, and even forgiving the fun- loving urchins who pelted us with garbage so long as they could keep up with the car. Out in the country we got upon a broad and fairly good road, which carried us by the side of the railway, until in the evening the capital town of Roumelia was reached. Philippopolis is one of the most picturesque towns of the Orient. Two small hills jut up from the centre of a great plain, and clus- tering round these hills is the city itself. One the almost frantic endeavour of the Bulgarian to obliterate the traces of the Turk. But the Osmanli popula- tion is still very large, and there are side strects where the philo- notices WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. The policemen did their-best for us, but being in limited numbers they were utterly unable to control the crowd of men, women, sophical and slothful follower of the Prophet still lives his life as he lived it before Bulgaria changed ber frontiers. We endeavoured to obtain _ quarters in the Hotel Ameri- can, but so great was the press of people round the car that we could not get anywhere near. When I descended and interviewed the manager he was in such a state of excite- ment that I could get no sense out of him. His sole idea in life at that moment was to examine the car and have its peculiar method of motion explained to him, but this I did not feel constrained to undertake. The dilapidated signboard of the Hotel Feller on the opposite side of the road then struck my eye. I mounted the car, started off, and charged through the mob into the courtyard. Inside a couple of minutes that courtyard became the scene of a perfect pandemonium. ‘The proprietor of the hotel came out to seek the cause of the disturbance, but was promptly swept off his feet. Policemen appeared, and at length {NIA AN RAR AAR Fem ELEN EN ALES MS ELE MY fe y 7 TE ANS ONres tec aeerc (7 Ne anes aN From a) A BULGARIAN CROWD. [Phojo.

Page 246

MY MOTOR-TRIP TO CONSTANTINOPLE. 237 some sort of order was obtained. ‘The more juvenile and the weakest of the crowd were summarily ejected from the inn-yard, and with all dispatch the car was placed under lock and key. But that evening when we walked the streets we were followed by a crowd of people. We were pointed out by passers-by and evidently were looked upon as two mortals deserving more than passing recognition. We made an early start the next day in order to avoid the crowd which I knew would inevi- tably collect had we stopped too long. Once out of Philippopolis the road improved wonder- fully, and for the first time since crossing the Danube at Belgrade I allowed the car to have her head. Bowling merrily along, it was pleasure indeed to hear the en- gine humming and the “swish” of the wheels through the sandandrubble. Now and again we almost scared the wits out of some passing — horse- man, or were the cause of some sudden and violent ter- mination to the progress of bul- lock-cart or wagon. So fre- quent had been the upsets, the smashed wagons, and scared drivers that we had now become quite used to them. ‘There was the usual crowd at Khaskdi, but we paused only for a short half-hour to take bite and sup, and then pushed on to the last Bulgarian town, Hermanli. Darkness was almost upon us before we entered the town, but as soon as our wheels rattled over its vile stones it became evident that something more than usual was in the air. Policemen lined the street, and a frantic mob surged right and left. An excited gendarme, sword in hand, raced by the side of the car as we moved slowly along. Then we debouched into the square, where booths and stalls were erected. A group From a) THE MOTUR CAUSES MORE TROUBLE, of officers in long grey cloaks was awaiting us, and, amid the excited shouting of probably the whole population of the town, we were royally received in Bulgaria’s outpost. I learned that a room had already been pro- vided for us in the only hotel, but, tired out as we were with the day’s work, we felt in no mood for the entertainment which these hospitable Bulgarians insisted upon giving us. All the notabilities of the place poured into the hotel. Every man, woman, and child, and even the dogs, looked upon that hotel as the rendezvous for the night. When the Governor of the town, a grey-bearded and austere man, said that he would be eternally grateful to me if I would only bring the car out again and give an exhi- bition of what it would do, I felt almost inclined to despair. Sleep was our one desire, but sleep was out of the question. I was assured that every faci- lity would be allowed me for the remaining portion of Bul- garian territory. “Ah,” said the Governor of Hermanli, “you are safe enough in Bulgaria, but once across the frontier-—” And he shook his head solemnly. ‘The early de- parture from Philippopolis was repeated the next morn- [Photo. ing, but this did not prevent the Governor and his satellites, together with the townsfolk, assembling at the hotel door in order to speed the parting guest. It was only with an infinity of trouble that we got clear of them at last and went bowling over the smooth road once more. ‘Twenty kilometres were soon covered, and then suddenly we rounded a corner and two huge wooden bars, stretched horizontally across the road, stopped our further progress. There was a ramshackle hut to the left, and from this there issued a couple of men attired in the military uniform of (Turkey.

Page 247

238 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. I pulled up the car at the posts and the men came forward. One rolled his cigarette as he slouched towards me, and I presented that indispensable document in ‘Turkey—the pass- port. With a wave of his hand and a flick at % ° %, »-| Rs AN) his cigarette end the soldier disdained me and leisurely inspected the car. From the hut half-a- dozen more Turks appeared, and together they examined the car, while not a word was spoken. Again I presented my passport, but again came that Oriental lift of the eyebrows, meaning “No,” and the disdainful shrug of the shoulders. I had been assured by Sir Nicholas O’Conor, the British Ambassador to Turkey, that I should experience no difficulty in crossing the frontier. The presentation of the passport would be quite sufficient, as the frontier station would be informed by the Vali of Adrianople of my coming. But this reception caused me a considerable amount of perturbation. ‘There appeared to be nobody in authority. The ragged soldiers would utter no sound, and when the engine was stopped and I informed Robert that all we could do was to sit it out, he concluded that that was the best thing to do, unless we could some- how raise the bars and repeat our Bulgarian frontier tactics. An hour passed and nothing happened. I addressed the most sensible-looking of the group of soldiers. I knew a few words of ‘Turkish; he so el) a FI AE SE comprehended them, but he raised his eyebrows and protruded his lips in an aggravating manner, merely muttering, “ YOk, Effendi” (‘ No, sir”). Then Robert brought British enterprise to the front. He sought to raise the bars by his own unaided strength, , At this there was sudden activity amongst the Turks. To aman they were upon him, and what looked like becoming a serious contretemps was only averted by my ordering the engineer back to the car. But patience was at length rewarded. Away over the brown moorland to the south came a carriage drawn by a couple of galloping horses. In a quarter of an hour it had arrived, and from it alighted an officer whose costume proclaimed him to be of rank. He came to me and bowed; touched breast, lips, and forehead in the Turkish salaam, and then, in French, apologized for my detention. In Mustafa Pasha (the first Turkish town across the frontier) the news of my departure from Hermanli had been received by telegraph, but they had not expected me so quickly. The Governor of Mustafa Pasha would be pleased to see me; the Vali of Adrianople had been telegraphed to concerning my coming. I pre- sented my passport and the érade of the Sultan, but the officer smilingly declined to look at them. A sharp word of command and every rifle among the soldiers was raised to the salute. Robert started the engine, the bars guarding the Ottoman Empire were raised, and the first Motor-car to spin its wheels on Turkish soil passed across the frontier. (To be concluded.)

Page 248

“DUBLIN” AND I; The Tribulations of Two ‘ Tenderfeet.”’ By Ratpu Srock. “Dublin” was the author’s Irish friend on the Canadian prairie. the trail” in search of new experiences. Tiring of ranch life, they “hit They found them, with a vengeance, at a Rocky Mountain lumber camp, as described in this amusing story. ; LTHOUGH I can now afford to (°-A°,) | il ra f AY AWA) smile at the reminiscence of those | ~ | days o1.'y a short two years ago, I VQV2.M@| don’t want anyone to think that I = smiled at themthen. Far from it. The hundred and one varied little incidents that went to make up the first two years of my struggles in Western Canada were often real tragedies to me then, and the sudden recollection of some incident that now makes me shake with laughter used during its happening to make me feel more like crying. Of course, “ there is humour in all things,” but the difficulty is to see it just at the right moment. " The chief cause of my tribu- lations was that I had a friend. ay Mind you, I have nothing to 3 say against him as a friend. For a sheer good - natured, happy-go-lucky individual who would give the last chew of his plug to the first man that asked him, and never be so 5 happy as when he hadn't a 25 cent to his name, it would have been difficult to find his e equal. I will only add the si advice given me by a Westerner -—advice that has proved itself sound again and again even in my short experience ; “ When huntin’ a job, though it mayn’t be so bully, hunt a/one.” Through following this advice I was working for a rancher some twenty miles from Maple Creek, contenited with my work and life generally, when there entered upon the scene the restless and, to me, fascinat- ingly devil-may-care personality of “Dublin,” as he was generally known, who for some extraordinary reason had managed to stay one full month with a rancher not four miles away, and even contemplated a second. It was on a Saturday night in August that I lay in the garret of ny boss’s ranch-house, counting the mos- quitoes to send me to sleep, when I heard a yell just outside the window—a yell there was no mistaking. It was “ Dublin’s.” There he was on a knock-kneed cayuse (he had a craze for buying blemished horseflesh, being a “vet.” in embryo, and revelling in blisters and splints), standing out in the moon light with a grain-sack tied behind his saddle. It was a romantic sight, and appealed to my “ tenderfoot ” soul. “Come down out of there,” he cried. “Tm off.” “Where on earth are you é going?” I “i % demanded. XD aS “ Don’t know : FRET a, that it will be on earth yet,” ‘im ore!" “come DIAZ 60 Urata he,

Page 249

240 THE WIDE he replied, with an ample grin. © But I'm sick of this. Let's clear out.” (‘Phis, by the way, probably meant he'd just) been © fired ’— “sacked ”— from his last: place.) I was flattered ; 1 was evidently looked upon as a partner. “Tm not going to quit without my pay,” I rejoined, cautiously, “Who's asking you to?” demanded “Dublin.” “Well, the boss is in bed just now,” I protestel. “Tsn’t there a door to his room?” s Yes.” “Well, knock on it. I've just brought a letter from town to say your great-aunt’s dead and you must go home at once. He'll savy: It just shows the influence “ Dublin” had over me when I say that I did what he told me, even down to the great-aunt business, and we were soon “hitting the trail” for town. That night, in the bar of the then one and only hotel of Maple Creek (there are now four), we held a conference as to what part of the Dominion we should grace with our presence and help with our invaluable services. The Kockies had always fired my imagination with a grizzly-bear-and-timber-wolf sort of romance, and I decided on them as my goal. You can never drive an Trishman, but you can sometimes lead him. I give this information out of a boundless store of experience. At any rate, I at last managed to persuade “ Dublin” to agree to start for Crow's Nest the following morning, and with visions of snow-capped peaks and several grizzlies we went to bed. 1 must here announce that there are many worse places in which to spend the night than a fair-sized packing-case lined with stiaw. That is where my partner and I spent that particular night, for the simple but ample reason that we only had five dollars between us over and above our fare to Crow's Nest. ‘The following night saw us in Medicine Hat, a railway and ranching centre about sixty miles distant. We had alighted there, not from any desire on my part to break the journey and add to the expenses, but because “ Dublin’ became suddenly aware that he was thirsty, with a kind of thirst that cannot be quenched on a Canadian Pacific Railway car, and also because a certain girlthe had met while working on a ranch near that town happened to be a waitress in the American Hotel. I knew how much good expostulation would de, so surrendered unconditionally, and we made an imposing exit from the train, bag and baggage, or rather grain-sacks, rusty rifle, and < A rainy morning, three days later, saw us WORLD MAGAZINE. standing disconsolate on the tiny platform at Ciow’s Nest, fecling depressed and strangely out of place. Everything was so different from the prairie —even the atmusphere. All around huge, densely-wooded peaks shut out the horizon. ‘To the prairie-dweller, accus- tomed to letting his gaze wander over rolling plains, with their delicious sense of space, the impression of those beetling hills and mountains seemed almost choking ; it ‘nade one want to sweep them away to see what was beyond. We must have made a sorry-looking picture, covered as we were from head to foot in the ample, light-coloured, oilskin riding “ slickers ” peculiar to the prairic, but not half so sorry as we felt. At last “ Dublin” broke the spell by walking up to the dvor of the little section house and knocking loudly twice. ‘Then, getting no response, he kicked with equal vigour, where- upon a bilious-looking head of unmistakable Italian origin was thrust vut of the window and a voice inquired, irritably, “ Vat you vant?” “Where's the nearest lumber camp?” in- quired “ Dublin.” “Up ze track four miles,” was the growling response ; so we shouldered our worldly goods and set out, stumbling first over our “slickers ” and then the “ties,” and cursing the rain. We walked in silence till the unmistakable and not unmusical buzz of a saw ripping through wood fell on our ears, and finally a long, low, wooden shed and a number of smaller lumber huts, standing in a large clearing, came into view. “ Office” was printed on a board over the dvor of one of these huts, so we made straizht for it, and were met at the door by a smiling, typical lumberman in long lace boots. “How's chances of a job?” asked “ Dublin,” depositing the rusty rifle carefully on the top of his “ portmanteau.” A slow smile stole across the lumberman’s face as he viewed us carefully from head to foot. T felt a fool, but not so “ Dublin.” ©T asked you how's chances,” he repeated, a slight flush creeping over his brow. “ All right,” responded the booted one, still smiling. “What d’you pay?’ “Thirty-five dollars a month.” “All right.” “Come on in and sign.” This ceremony completed, we were told to “dump your truck in the bunk-house and report to the mill foreman.” ‘There is a pleasing lack of red tape about obtaining employment in the West. After carrying pour ampedimnenta to the bunk-

Page 250

“DUBLIN” AND I. 241 house, a long, low, wooden structure very like a . feet across the butt as they were brought in cattle shed, we neard a shrill whistle given by the engine that worked the mill, and two minutes later we were surrounded by a swarm of perspiring men, representing pretty nearly every nationality under the sun. There were hulking great Swedes, burly negroes, swarthy Italians, thin, wiry Americans and Canadians, and Cockneys—all laughing and joking and indulging in horse - play like a crowd of schoolboys. Suddenly what sounded like a megaphone gave two loud toots from some neighbouring building, and a general stampede ensued. “Dublin” and I followed at a more leisurely pace. The cause of it all proved to be dinner. Never have I seen food consumed at such a speed! It was literally bolted whole, and the diners were outside, pass- ing away the rest of the hour allowed at noon by smoking and chewing, long before “Dublin” and I had got fairly under way. The food, though plain, is always good and whole- some at British Columbia lumber camps, and, need- less to say, we did it full justice. Once more the whistle blew, but, strange to say, there was no stampede this time, the men loung- ing back to mill and bush as though each man’s life depended on his getting there last. “Dublin” and T lost no time in reporting ourselves to the mill foreman, a sharp-featured, wiry little man, who promptly took us to an implement- shed and gave to each of us a “cant-hook.” There is no need to describe this instrument of torture to both patience and muscle, for I hope and trust, for his own benefit, that no reader of THE WipE Wor-p will ever have to handle one. Suffice it to say that it is intended to assist in rolling logs. “Dublin” and I were then placed at the end of a skidway about seventy yards long, made of two lines of pine logs spliced together, running parallel about twenty feet apart and slanting downwards at an acute angle. Down this we were told to roll logs varying from four to six Vol. xviii. 31. from the bush by the teamsters. At the end of the skidway a little truck, hauled by a wire cable, stood in readiness on its tramway to carry them up to the saw. Having given us our instructions and made a survey of our personal appearance, which seemed to cause him some amusement, the mill foreman withdrew, leaving us to our fate in the drenching rain. Oh, the agonies of the following three hours ! An awful feeling of absolute incompetence over- whelmed me when I nearly gouged “ Dublin’s” eye with my unwieldy cant-hook, in my vain endeavours to keep a refractory giant of the forest from running off the skidway. To add to our discomfort the rain fell unre- mittingly, and we stumbled about in ankle-deep “HE GAVE US EACH A ‘CANT-HOOK.'” mud. “ Dublin’s” hat had long ago been crushed into unrecognisable pulp beneath a huge spruce log that, despite our united efforts, ran right off the skidway. At last, however, we managed to get five logs safely on to the truck, and, with a pleasing sense of importance at having machinery under his control, “ Dublin” climbed up a rickety little iron ladder and pulled the lever that had been pointed out to us as connecting the cable of the truck to the engine. My heart swelled as I saw our majestic load, the result of so-much strenuous toil, sail grace-

Page 251

242 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. fully up the incline on its way to the saw, but I was a little previous. Of course, we knew nothing of loading logs, and about half-way up the incline one of them started to wobble suspiciously. Next minute my heart was in my mouth—the truck was overbalancing! For a moment it tottered on two wheels ; then, with a dull thud, load, truck, and all disappeared over the side. A shower of sawdust flew skywards, and an ominous silence ensued. The engine stopped, and heads peered at There was no need to “jab.” The impetus the great log had gained caught my hook in its flight, and the same thing must have happened to “ Dublin’s,” for the next minute we were flipped off our feet simultaneously, like a couple of flies, turned completely over with the log, and landed prone and half-stunned between the skids, the log passing above us about three inches from our faces. That settled it. We determined that the cant-hook could never really be our forte. Great “WE WERE FLIPPED OFF OUR FEET SIMULTANEOUSLY.” us from every window and door of the mill— grinning heads, laughing heads, disgusted heads. They looked still more disgusted when ordered to get out and help us unearth the truck from the pile of sawdust into which it had fallen. The crisis of our experience, however, was yet to come. We had succeeded in completely stopping the mill four times through inability to supply logs fast enough, and I was carefully manceuvring a gigantic pine down the skidway, despite the unaccountable gymnastics of my cant-hook, when I suddenly realized that the log was getting the better of me in speed and also running off the skidway. I yelled to “ Dublin” and he ran to help. “When I say ‘Go!’” he said, breathlessly, “jab your cant-hook into it and hang on for dear life. We may stop it. ‘One, two, three —go!’” as was our ambition in that direction, the trials incidental to the acquirement of the art were somewhat too severe. We rebelled ; we wouldn’t stand it. It wasn’t white man’s work, anyway— at least, that’s what “ Dublin” said, so I suppose it must be correct. We were chaffed unmercifully that evening, the great question about which our tormentors seemed most curious being as to whether our mothers knew we were out. The matter seemed to cause them unnecessary anxiety. At first “ Dublin” took all this in good part and laughed with the rest, but when chaff slowly merged into insult, and that from a hulking mulatto with a head like a bullet and a neck like a bull, I saw the light of rebellion flash suddenly into my friend’s eye, and knew that there would shortly be trouble. Here I must explain that, whatever the status of the negro in other, countries, in the lumber

Page 252

“DUBLIN” camps of the West he is the equal of the white, at least in his own opinion; and when that opinion is backed by gigantic strength and an almost entire disregard for bodily pain, except on the shins, it is apt to carry some weight. At any rate, it was pretty evident to me that this mulatto was by way of being “monarch of all he surveyed” in that particular camp, and I trembled for “ Dublin.” However, the trouble did not come till later, for songs, solos on the mouth-organ, and step- dancing were soon in full swing, and, after showing the “natives” what he could do in the way of step-dancing, “ Dublin” succeeded in making himself quite popular, as an Irishman usually does. The mulatto, however, seemed to have taken a distinct dislike to him, for he scowled and sulked in his bunk instead of join- ing in the general festivities. At last the fatal mistake was made. On being genially told that if he was only half as good on the cant-hook as he was at step- dancing he might be some good, “ Dublin” replied with spirit that the former “wasn’t a white man’s job, anyway,” and that he had no wish to shine in that direction. The retort was perfectly innocent of ill-feel- ing, and yet with one accord all eyes turned towards the mulatto. Nothing happened, but the ominous. Shortly after, however, the thunder- bolt fell. On being asked to sing, ‘ Dublin” favoured the company with his well-known ditty, “Coon, Coon, Coon, I Wish My Colour Would Fade,” in his best tenor. He had the negro dialect down to a fine art, and the result, when elsewhere, had usually called forth salvos of applause. But now dead silence greeted his efforts, and once more all eyes were riveted on the mulatto. In vain I screwed my face into every species of contortion intended to convey disapproval and warning; ‘ Dublin” sang on unhecding. It all happened very quietly. The mulatto waited till about half the song had been sung ; then, putting aside his pipe, he slowly rose from his bunk and walked up to the blissfully uncon- scious performer. “ Mebbe,” he said, in a slow drawl—“ mebbe you think that funny ?” If a bucket of cold water had been suddenly douched over poor “ Dublin’s” head the damping of his ardour could not have been more completely effected. He turned first red, then white, and finally dismounted from the packing-case on which he had been seated. “T was doing my best to amuse the com- pany,” he said, rather lamely. silence was AND I. 243 “Waal, it didn’t amuse me worth a cent,” was the quiet rejoinder. Then the light that I knew so well flashed into “ Dublin’s ” eyes, and I saw that for weal or woe there was going to be a iight. “Tn that case,” said “ Dublin,” and there was a slight tremor in his voice, “you'd better get outside and I'll finish the song for the benefit of the rest of the company.” The mulatto’s thick lips parted in a smile that was not good to look at, displaying a double row of glistening white teeth. “ Mebbe,” he continued, with the same slow drawl and with his bullet head at a reflective angle—“ mebbe you think that 7’ a coon ?” You could have heard a pin drop in any part of that bunk-house. “Dublin” leant carelessly against the pack- ing-case and looked full into the mulatto’s eyes. “Tm afraid,” he said, mimicking his adver- sary’s drawl—“ I’m afraid I haven’t had time to give the matter full consideration, but, judging from appearances, which we all know are some- times deceptive, I should certainly say that you were a pretty good imitation.” “Waal, now we’ve got something to go on. You say I’m a coon. I say I’m not; and I'll prove it. To start off, if I’d been a nigger I'd have flattened your face ten minutes ago ; but as J ain’t, I'll wait till ve taken off my coat to do it, See?” My respect for “Dublin” had always been high, but it went up three notches at a bound when I saw that he never flinched. “Tf you think that the flattening of my face will help to prove that black’s white, why, I’m willing to help science,” be said. ‘“ But if——” ‘The rest of the sentence was never finished, for the mulatto threw his coat on the ground and with a bound shot a leg-of-mutton fist straight at “ Dublin’s ” face. If it had ever reached its mark, the flattening process before-mentioned would have been an accomplished fact, but “ Dublin” is short, thick- set, and as quick as an eel. Like lightning he ducked, and his adversary’s fist went clean through the packing-case against which he had been leaning. ‘Then, with a backhander, he hit the mulatto a resounding crack on his woolly head. ‘The blow might as weil have struck a block of wood for all the effect that it bad. ‘I'wice “Dublin” hit his opponent full on the nose, but the mulatto merely wiped away the blood with the back of his hand and continued as though nothing had happened. Now, if this narrative had been an orthodox, stirring piece of romance I could have made

Page 253

244 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “Dublin” stretch his enemy on the ground in a single round, and everyone would have been satisfied ; but as I have to record facts exactly as they happened I am forced to admit that the exact opposite reaily occurred, and in this way. The mulatto, getting tired of his repeated and ineffectual attempts to get anywhere near “ Dublin,” who seemed able to be in two places “Dublin” sat up in the bunk with some teeth missing and looked at his conqueror. “You clinched,” he said, wiping the blood from his lips; “but I suppose you don’t know any better. Perhaps, though, you'll explain how by this ridiculous performance we’ve proved that black’s white?” The mulatto was in a far worse state than “WE CAUGHT HIM ROUND THE WAIST WITH A PAIR OF ARMS THAT FAIRLY BULGED YELLOW: BLACK MUSCLE.” at the same time, made one frantic rush like an enraged bull straight at his enemy, received three crashing blows full in the face as though they had been flies, caught him round the waist with a pair of arms that fairly bulged yellow- black muscle, and tossed the unfortunate “Dublin” high above his head. Then, taking a fresh and careful hold of his trousers, he dashed him head-foremost into one of the bunks that lined the wall. “Dublin,” and I suppose he realized it, for, after glaring at his victim through half-closed eyes, he returned to his bunk without a word, satisfied that he had done and received enough damage for one evening. “«Dub,’” I said, as I bandaged my friend’s face, “let's get out of this right away. You'll only get us into more trouble.” “Get out be sugared!” he replied. “I’m just beginning to feel at home!”

Page 254

MONSTERS OF THE FOREST. By Mrs. HERPERT VIVIAN. There is a remote little place in Bohemia where the genius of an old-time sculptor and the odd fancy of his aristocratic patron have converted a tract of forest into a veritable wonderland. Strange figures of knights and goblins, all carved out of the solid rock, meet the eye, giant faces peer at you from among the trees, and curious chapels, caves, and staircases all attest the sculptor’s industry and skill. Fhotographs taken specially for “* The Wide World Magazine” by Mr. Vojtéch Sedlak, Bohemian Amateur Photographic Club. q| URNING over an old book of travel | Mr iiag) one day [ came across a rough draw- CY |i a <vaei ste w (F) ing of weird and mysterious monster ea | heads springing from the earth in a forest avenue in Bohemia. ‘These curious nightmares had a pleading, haunting expression which caught my imagination, and I determined that next time my wanderings took me to Bohemia I would explore the forests of the north and seek out those stony gorgons. Next summer I made my way to Marienbad, and there I plied every Austrian I knew with the question, “Do tell me about Libechoy.” “Never heard of Gniidige.” “It’s near Melnik. Surely you know Melnik?” “Of course I know Melnik. Was I not sub- prefect at Melnik for two weary years? Does not the only aunt from whom I have expectations live at Melnik? But never, never have I heard of Libechoy, so there can be no such place.” “But there is! D’ve read all about it ina book, so it must be true.” “Well, even if there 7s a Libechoy, it must be a very dull place. What induces you, honoured, gracious one, to dream of going to Libechov? I should stay in Marienbad. Libechov—Libechoy; you are sure to be bored to death! Don’t go to Libechoy.” My graven images cer- tainly seemed to fascinate nobody but myself, but in spite of dissuasion and threats of boredom I per- it, A GKEAT ROCK WHICH Has from aj BEEN severed with my intention, and set off for Prague en route for Libechoy. In Prague I consulted the friendly and fatherly porter of the Black Horse, and begged him to trace Libechov and map out my trains for me, as I felt powerless to cope with a Bohemian time-table, in which your trains some- times seem to move backwards and sometimes forward. Together we studied a huge map which hung on the wall. There we found x ne ae pice oad COMPLETELY HOLLOWED CHAPEL, OUT AND CONVERTED IN10 A LITT (Photo.

Page 255

246 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. from a} THE several places which seemed very like Libechoy, yet none of them was gurte Libechov. It seemed as if fate were against me. The hour was growing late, and next morning at cock- crow I must start, as I wanted to visit several other places on the way. I thought of tossing up to see which “Li” I should begin with. But happily I remembered a_ kindly official of the Bohemian Touring Club, and sent round a messenger-boy to implore him to come to the rescue. ‘The answer soon came. Here at last was someone who not only knew where Libechov was, but who also quite agreed with me that it was a very interesting place and I was going to enjoy myself very much. I patted myself on the back and went on to discover that we had found the real Libechov as well as the false on the map, but that in the ridiculous German chart it had been spelt “ Liboch ”—quite incorrect and most pernicious. So having at last found Libechov and settled that I was to reach it about nightfall by way of Kolin and Melnik, I started off hopefully. But I was not going to have things entirely my own way after all, for some malicious little hobgoblin was evidently on my track with some reason of his own why I should not see my monsters. Instead of carrying out religiously the directions of my kind porter at the Black Horse, I was tempted to try to arrange things for myself, and endeavoured to pick up a late train in Bradshaw instead of going by the one chosen for me, But T never noticed the fateful broad, short line that the estimable Bradshaw sometimes places in a AKE ROCK, WHICH IS A LANDMARK FOR MILES AROUND. [Photo. row of apparently smoothly -running trains to show that that particular one will run to a certain place only that night, and pursue its journey about the same hour next morning. I be- lieve the printer was feeling very mean ahout the ink when he printed that line. Any- how, it said nothing to me, and when about eight p.m. I reached a little station about ten miles from my desti- nation I was thunder- struck at hearing a porter shout that the train would go no farther that night ! Talighted sadly and waited in the telegraph office till the solitary porter was disengaged. In the meantime I consulted with the telegraph clerk, a worthy and sympathetic creature, as to what my next move should be. His advice was, if I did not mind a primitive inn, to walk to the nearest village, half a mile away, and spend the night there, going on next day by the train that was at present resting. There was, he explained, a Bad in the hills two or three miles away, where hotels were better, but as I wanted only a roof over my head for a few hours we both agreed the village inn would answer every purpose. So when the train had been shunted times innumer- able and the youthful porter was finally at liberty to carry my belongings, I started off for the village. As we drew nearer we heard sounds of revelry, laughing, singing, and dancing. It seemed there was a féfe, and the porter explained proudly to me what a social centre the place was. He said he knew I should love being at the inn. When we arrived the place was indeed e7 f'te. The landlord and servants were so excited they almost chased me from the door. At last my porter forced his way into the kitchen, and dragging the cook, who was frying and grilling for dear life, from her stove, implored her to show a little more friendliness to the poor stranger. Unwillingly she listened and then asked me what I wanted. I meekly said that I begged a thousand pardons for disturbing her, and that all I required was a small room where I might deposit myself and my belongings. “A small room? Well, we haven't got one,

Page 256

MONSTERS OF so you can’t have it,” she said, kindly but firmly. Dejectedly I was moving off, when she con- tinued: “We have got a large room—a large and beautiful room. Perhaps we might let you have that if you can afford the price.” I expected the very worst extortion, but was so broken in spirit that I offered her her own terms. “Well,” she said, eyeing me narrowly to see whether I should kick at her monstrous pro- posals, “if you will pay two shillings you shall have that room.” With almost indecent haste and joy I closed with her offer, and soon was upstairs in a clean room with about half-a-dozen small windows. Of course, they had not been opened for many months, so I flung them open. However, I had to close them again before I could sleep, for the From a) sounds of revelry became more and more per- vading and distracting, as most of the flirting, singing, and drinking of healths seemed to be going on just below my windows. At last I managed to doze off, but about one o'clock I was awakened by terrific peals of thunder, rain pelting down with tropical fervour, and amidst it all loud bellowings from the front door, responded to by remonstrances and impre- cations from an answering crowd. Delighted at the situation, which was just like the mise ex AN AVENUE OF GIANTS’ HEADS. THE FOREST. 247 scene of a theatre, I leapt from my bed, flew to the window, threw it open, and leant out, regard- less of the storm. It was really quite romantic. The landlord was standing on the doorstep, evidently very drunk. He had presumably had more than enough of the party, and wanted to get rid of his guests. They, too, were very much exhilarated by the revelry, and were in no hurry to plunge into the deluge outside. Mine host was yelling at the top of his voice, “Out you go! Out you go! One, two, three ! Out you go, I say !” with real dramatic, drunken fury, whilst they answered in chorus, shaking their fists at him, “ Miserable wretch ! Miserable wretch !” Several of them had torches, held in very unsteady hands, and they brandished them about in a desultory fashion, which made me feel as if I should not mind knowing the quickest way out of the house. I ran to the door and unlocked it. In the corridor I found several old women in airy raiment wandering about, wringing their hands and lamenting the extreme drunkenness of the landlord. I got a bird's-eye view of the way out and then returned to my room. A parley was going on outside. The rain began to abate and the women were picking up their petticoats to their knees, throwing shawls over their heads, and-preparing for the inevitable. At

Page 257

248 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. last the landlord got his way and they all tramped off in a flock into the darkness. I felt sorry for the poor creatures, but distinctly glad for myself, as I heard the landlord stumble up- stairs, still swearing. Gradually the house became quieter and I could sleep peacefully. Next morning early I paid my bill to one of the old women, wrote my name in the visitors’ book by special request, and was fetched by my friend the porter, who put me in the train, which really did go to Libechov this time. I felt a proud woman when I saw the name printed on the side of the station-house. I jumped out of the carriage and tackled a porter on the subject of conveyances. Evidently this was a serious matter, and he said he thought the station-master should be consulted. So the station-master was sent for, and immediately began to put me through a catechism about myself—interviewed me, in fact, with all the skill of an American reporter. A small crowd gathered round, villagers and visitors spending Frou a) A GkOUP OF HOBGOBLINS. the summer in the place. ‘Now, I wonder what cou/d have possessed you, an English- woman, to come to Libechov?” said the station- master. ‘Do you know you are the very first Englishwoman I have ever known to come here? Do tell us where you heard of us.” “T read of your famous rocks in a book in England.” “No; did you really?” they all exclaimed, with childish delight. “But how daring you are to come alone, all the way from England,” said one elderly female inquisitor. ‘ Are you married? Where is your husband? Why isn’t he here? Oh! you’ve come from Marienbad, have you? Do you like Marienbad? Does your husband like Marienbad ? Why doesn’t he like Marienbad? We saw your King in Marien- bad last year. Oh, what a schnetdiger gentle- man !—a really smart gentleman !” Now the station-master thought it was his innings, so, politely shoving them all away, he sent for a cab for me, and to while away the time of waiting he proceeded to give me useful information about the rocks, and to enlighten me as to the career of Lowy, the sculptor of the monsters. Vaclav Lowy was born nearly a century ago. He was a poor village boy. Count Roman Veith, who owned the castle of Libechov and was a patron of the arts, took him into his kitchen as scullion. Lowy was entrusted with the care of the butter, and he used to vent his artistic feelings on it, sending it to table moulded into won- drous lions, tigers, and other beasts of the forest. The count soon noticed the buttery menagerie, and inquired who was the kitchen artist. One day he discovered the boy carving a pipe with a stag and hounds of no common per- fection, and feeling sure that Lowy had real talent he sent him to study with a sculptor in Prague. Later on he induced the famous Schwanthaler, of Munich, to take him as pupil. From there he went to Rome, and by the middle of the last century he had become one of the greatest sculptors of his time. When his frofégé was eighteen, Count Veith invited him to stay with him during his holidays, and it was then that he formed the idea Whoto.

Page 258

MONSTERS OF THE FOREST. 249 vf turning the rocks and caves of the neighbouring forest into works of art. In the woods round Libe- chov there are many rocks belong- ing to the same sandstone forma- tion as those of the Saxon Switzer- land. Being very soft they are easily and quickly carved. It must make a curious impression on strangers wandering in the forest to come suddenly on strange figures growing out of the earth, for Lowy would take the whole rock, just as it stood, and fashion it into a gnome, a knight, a snake, or a wood-nymph. Finally my cab arrived, drawn by an antique horse and driven by a yet more antique cabby, with a morose manner and a beard as long as Barbarossa’s. He seemed to think me a great bore, and began to take the road to the forest at a funereal pace. He received my mild remonstrances with some indignation, and hurled the prin- ciples of the Society for the Pre- vention of Cruelty to Animals at my head. However, at length, at the terrific pace of four miles an hour we approached our goal. ‘The country became sandier and sandicr, and fir trees dotted them- selves about the fields. ‘Then we reached the dark forest, where the trees seemed to grow very thick and close together. The first rock we came to—a huge boulder about twenty feet high—had been hollowed out completely and converted into a little chapel. A wooden grating formed the door, over which hung a picture of the Virgin and Child and a laurel wreath, There were tufts of vegetation on the sides, and on the grassy top ferns and wild flowers made a gay roof garden. The inevitable tripper had covered the sides with his hieroglyphics and mottoes as far up as he could reach. Presently we came to a gap in the trees and I beheld a great, toad-like rock rearing itself from a little sandy mound. On this fantastic founda- tion Lowy has carved a great serpent in relief, which coils itself in a realistic fashion round the surface of the rock. The Snake Rock is one of the landmarks of the country, and a great place of excursions and picnics. The sand- stone foundation is very easy to work upon and the work quickly executed. However, being of so soft a nature, the carvings are very easily Vol. xviii —32, From a) [Photo. damaged, and, trippers having begun to leave their traces on many of the works, a few lovers of art subscribed to enclose some of the most notable carvings before they were irretrievably injured. But the most curious part of the forest was the avenue of rocky monsters. ‘They were really zmpressionants, like rows of dead giants’ heads, or rather the ghosts of heads; like giants, too, who had met with violent ends. Their eyes glare at you out of deep caverns and their mouths gape as if they were heaving their last sighs on earth. On their heads they seem to support half the earth, and you can almost hear them groan beneath the weight. Only one of them smiles, but it is such a maniac grin that you feel convinced he has gone mad and is not really merry at all. Lowy’s genius was certainly often a morbid one, and when in after- life he became a great sculptor and much in request a large proportion of his works were for sepulchres and,vaults.

Page 259

286 ‘THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. It was really quite a relief to come to the little group of hobgoblins huddled together in- the recess of a rock. ‘They clearly are some of Hans Andersen’s little men, and are, of course, plotting how to carry off a Marsh King’s daughter or arranging to bury great sacks of gold in a mountain cave. We drove on and on through the wood. Presently we passed a steep hill, approached by a footpath where the carriage could not climb. At the top was the Herculaneum, a kind of amphi- theatre of rocks which have been turned into the semblance of ruined castle walls by the indefatig- able sculptor. A small boy bearing a big bunch of jangling keys escorted me, for the place has been enclosed and shut in with iron gates to preserve it from le:s famous artists in stone. ‘Two huge Crusaders in armour stand like sentinels in wait- ing on the Em- peror Frederick Barbarossa, greatest of the monarchs of the Holy Roman Em- pire. Their eyes are fixed on the Emperor, who sits opposite in an archway—a gigan- tic figure on a great throne, clad in a coat of mail and a long embroidered robe. His immense red beard flows almost to his knees, and he frowns fiercely on the world. Barbarossa lies among his knights in the heart of the great mountain of Untersberg, between Salzburg and Berchtesgaden, the peasants say. ‘They point out to the stranger a dark-mouthed cavern, which leads the way to the Emperor’s resting- place. There he waits till the ravens shall cease to hover over the peak and the pear tree shall blossom in the valley. He will then wake from his long sleep and burst from the mountain to right the wrong and bring back to Germany peace and concord. A cave in the rocks has been converted into the Herculaneum. This represents the fabulous interior of the mountain Blanik. According to the Bohemian legend, which is just as old as the better-known German one of Barbarossa, the national heroes sleep here an enchanted sleep. The holy Duke Wenceslas, Ziska, the one-eyed leader of the Hussites, with the famous monk Prokop the Bald, wait with their knights on horseback till the signal is given to save the king- dom. ‘Then when the peril is immi- nent they break out from the depths of Blanik and ride to the rescue. In an- other cave there are statues and relievos _ illustrat- ing the history of that great person- age of German and Bohemian mythi- cal history, Reineke Fuchs. We know the gen- tleman better under the name of Reynard, or even as Brer Fox. Though his ad- ventures in Bo- hemia are different to those we know of in England, they are none the less of breathless interest to occu- pants of the nur- sery, and Goethe THE EMPEROR FREDERICK BARBAROSSA. (Pheto. has immortalized Reineke for ever. . By this time my ancient Jehu had become meeker and milder, owing, perhaps, to the prolonged rests which he and his horse had been enjoying whilst I explored and snap- shotted. He led me on past quaint steps and curious archways, hewn out of the rock and ornamented with heads, recumbent figures, and skulls. The Harp Maiden always expects a call from strangers, and I was solemnly intro- duced to her as she sprawled against a rock holding a harp in her battered stony hand. Considered, as_a_sirén, I-don’tythink she would

Page 260

MONSTERS OF THE FOREST. - : 251 inhabitants most kindly and hos- pitable. I inquired in the bookseller’s about a guide to the neighbour- hood, and_ straightway half the village assembled and began to consider how I could get the information I sought. Finally the postmaster was ap- proached, and he most courteously brought round to my hotel the official guide-book of the dis- trict, drawn up by the local Government, which he lent me to study for as long as I liked. Libechov is a dear little town, clean and orderly. A tiny stream tuns down the street; a few pretty old houses and statues of saints are dotted here and there. I was really sorry to leave such pleasant people. Even my cabby and I became the best of friends, and his gratitude for a franc or two over and above his legal fare was quite touching. So I can safely recommend those who travel in the Saxon Switzerland, not so many leagues away, or those who make their way down the Elbe to drop a boat at Leitmeritz and pay the forest monsters of Libechov a visit. THE ENTRANCE TO THE HERCU- LANEUM. From a Photo attract swarms of wor- shippers in her present condition. A beauty specialist ought certainly to be engaged to repair the ravages of time. Her poor nose is distinctly the worse for wear, and I have a_ horrid feeling that before long she will be wall-eyed. We passed several odd - looking rocks on our way back to the little town, where I spent the rest of the day visit- ing the various lions of the place. As in other parts of Z Bohemia, I found the ia ce eee “HARP MAIDEN," ON WHOM ALL VISITORS TED TO CAL.t4 (Photo,

Page 261

How Hassan Captured the Battleship. By THE Late Lorp Currigz, G.C.B., P.C., Etc. This remarkable little story was found among the distinguished diplomatist’s papers after his death. It is an account of a young Turkish officer’s daring and resource in the war of 1897, showing how, by an act of unparalleled audacity, he made a helpless prisoner of a powerful Greek battleship. ==) ESTLING among the steep crags on Vv the shores of the Gulf of Arta there used to be, until it was burnt by the Turks, a large village of tumble- down wooden dwellings, surrounded by vineyards and olive groves. Gala Krini was the name of this ‘picturesque spot, now obliterated but for a few charred remains. It had, like most other villages of European Turkey, a mixed population of idle Turks, savage Albanians, and fanatical Greeks ; but, thanks to an able Kaimakam, they lived in peace with one another, so far as it was possible for Christian and Moslem to do, at least under normal conditions. But the time of which I am writing was that of war. Greece, by a false impulse of patriotism, or, more strictly speak- ing, desirous of trying the art of war, on a different scale to that of the guerilla warfare which had freed her fifty years before from the Ottoman yoke, was measuring herself with the military might of ‘Turkey, and already many a classic height in Thessaly had been the theatre of fierce and desperate encounters in which the Greeks lost heavily. Even in the seaside hamlets on the gulf, although remote enough from the actual scene of combat, events were watched with deepest in- terest, often leading to bloodshed between the Greeks and Turks, and a serious crisis was imminent. It may be imagined, therefore, with what mixed feelings the inhabitants of Gala Krini beheld, one fine morn- ing, a Hellenic battleship enter the gulf and cast anchor off the shore. The Turks naturally feared reprisals from the Greeks under cover of the warship, while on the other hand, truth to tell, at the bottom of their hearts the Greeks were thankful, although they took care not to show it, for the relief thus afforded from the menaces of their Mohammedan neighbours. Such was the situation which the unexpected presence of a battleship had happily brought about in the local party politics, and the poor villagers would have been quite content had it continued for ever. THE AUTHOR, THE LATR LORD CURRIE, G.C.K., P.C., ETC, From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry. Their reasons, however, were grounded on narrow self-interest, combined, on the part of the Greeks, with a sense of self-sufficiency, a sense of power to cope with any act of aggres- sion, now that they could rely on the heavy guns of a compatriot warship. They had little idea of the importance which this vessel had in the eyes of another group of spectators, who were watching the ship and examining her every detail through their telescopes from the crest of a hill towering above the village. These strangers were five in number, and wore the uniform of officers of the Sultan. This had looked gorgeous when they had left the Seras- kierate, in distant Stamboul, to meet the Greek, but since then it had faded, what with the rough work and exposure among the mountains of Mace- donia and Lower Albania. Their horses, tethered beneath a clump of plane trees at some distance, were, if anything, even more travel-worn than their masters. But this was hardly to be won- dered at, seeing the lack of roads and the steep hills which the animals had had to climb. These Turkish officers were on an urgent and important mission — to block out the Hellenic Fleet from the Gulf of Arta. In this they had been anticipated by the Greeks, and it would have been hard to say . which was greater, their sur- prise to find a Greek battleship riding at anchor on the wrong side of the straits or their annoyance at being frustrated from carrying out their task. Behind them, at the bottom of the deep ravine, were a number of heavy guns which had heen dragged all the way from Salonica—a long and difficult task ; and with this artillery they had been ordered to fortify the straits. But how they were to do this with a first-class battleship in their immediate vicinity, barring, as it were, their very way, was a problem which many a European artillerist would have given up in despair. The Turk, however, does not readily abandon hope ; while there is life there is hope, and this

Page 262

HOW HASSAN CAPTURED THE BATTLESHIP. 253 good quality is specially conspicuous during times of war, when his real nature is aroused. More than one decisive battle has been won on the field or in diplomacy by means of a latent resourcefulness that few Europeans would dream of employing. Below lay the battleship, and beyond the headland were the straits. Their orders were imperative, and although they had laid bare the situation to their commander-in-chief, he had merely repeated his instructions, and they had to be carried out. To reach the straits the Turkish column had to run the gauntlet of the battleship’s heavy guns, which meant sheer destruction. Somehow or other they must escape the man-o’-war or pre- vent her interference with their work, but to do this seemed impossible. ‘The officers on the hill discussed various schemes, such as drawing off the ship’s attention by an attack from a different quarter, but this would readily —_ disclose their plans, and, more- over, if it did not, the Greek spies would. Suddenly they were in- terrupted by a noise in the brushwood, and from it emerged a young sub- altern, whom they had left in charge of the horses. The officer in command was indignant at the inter- ruption, and on any other occasion would have severely punished — the offender, but the young fellow looked so excited that the chief was appeased and bade him speak. “ Father,” he — cried, addressing his superior in the manner usual with the Turks, “I am an Artali, and know this village very well. I have overheard what you said about the Greek ship and know how matters stand. Now, if you will believe me, I say that I can prevent her to- night from stirring from where she now is.” The party stared at the speaker as if he were mad. It seemed absurd that a young fellow could do what heavy cannon could not, and the chief, angry at what he deemed the subaltern’s impertinence, ordered him to his place beside the horses. ‘The young fellow insisted, however, and implored them with tears in his eyes to let him try to prove his words. So hard did he plead that his extraordinary request was granted, on the understanding that he should return before the dawn. Permission having been granted him the young fellow leapt for joy, and hurriedly ex- changing his clothes for those of a shepherd he descended in that disguise to Gala Krini. It was well into the evening ere he reached the shore, and he went straight to the house of the Mukhtar, where, to keep up his disguise, he inquired for a stray goat that he pretended had escaped from his flock. ‘The first person he met was the Mukhtar himself—his father—who, however, was slow to recognise in the sunburnt, hide-clad giant the soldier son whom he had “THE PARTY STARED AT THE SPEAKEIDAS YE JIE (WERE MAD.” gitize GOUYTC

Page 263

254 THE WIDE WORLD hot seen for so many years. Duty, however, was imperative, and the Mukhtar having partly recovered from his surprise and joy, Hassan acquainted him with the object of his self- appointed errand. The homely face of the loving parent became ashen grey when he heard of the audacious scheme that Hassan had in his mind, and he begged of him to abandon so perilous a task. But Hassan was obdurate, and with a parting embrace he left the wistaria and vine-covered home of his childhood and departed on his desperate mission. Late that night a number of figures stole through the dark alleys of the village towards the shore. Not a sound did they make, and the fact that they carried no light with them showed that theirs was no ordinary business. Close to the water’s edge was an old boathouse, which, once the property of the Pasha of Arta, was now used as a shed for repairing boats. This the party silently entered, and by the flickering light of a taper searched the black interior. At length there was a gentle rattle and from the gloom emerged Hassan, stripped to the waist, dragging a heavy chain, which looked like an enormous serpent moving through the shingle. This with the help of his comrades he began to pull, and after half an hour’s laborious work the end of the great chain—once the cable of a Turkish vessel that had sunk at Lepante — was MAGAZINE. reached. From the beach the chain was loaded on board a large caique whose sides and floor had been covered with thick cloth to deadem the sound. This task accomplished, three men got in with Hassan, and rowed with muffled oars towards a large rock in the middle of the bight. Round this rock the chain was laid and securely fastened. One man having been landed on the crag to keep guard over this end. the boat set out cautiously for the battleship, looming like a phantom in the distance. Not a sound did the four men make as link by link the massive chain was paid out over the stern into the still water. Nearer and nearer they ROUND THIS ROCK THE CHAIN WAS LAID AND SECURELY FASTENED, approached the great vessel, which seemed to slumber upon the oily surface of the gulf. Even the sentry on deck dozed as he leaned on his musket, totally unconscious of what was going on not more than fifty yards from where he stood. In the dense shadow by the stern nothing was visible. There was an excited gleam in Hassan’s eyes as, with a sign to his comrades, he gradu- ally lowered himself into the dark water, guiding himself by passing his fingers over the battle- ship’s plates. A slight grating of the chain against the hull was all that his anxious com- panions in the boat heard, though now and then a reassuring pull was felt on the line that Hassan held, directing, them (how -te-pay|out the chain,

Page 264

HOW HASSAN Hours rather than minutes seemed to have gone by ere the young officer came to the surface, so exhausted by his long dive that he had to be almost lifted into the boat. “Tt is round the propeller,” he gasped. “TI Back have fixed it so that nothing can move it. you go.” Then link by link the tedious work was re- newed, until the boat re- turned to its starting - point, where the other end of the chain was secured. The risky task was done, and the Hellenic battleship was securely moored to an immov- able rock by a double — thick- ness of cable! No sooner was Hassan on dry land than he threw him- self into the saddle of a horse that was in waiting and went galloping up the moun- tain road to re- port his success. So still was the night air that the clatter of the horse’s hoofs even attracted the attention of the sentry out at “UT Is ROUND THE PROPELLER,’ HE GASPED.” sea, and the flash-light of the warship presently revealed a half-naked figure riding a tall and bony horse towards the top of the hill. But, the sight, strange though it might have seemed, con- veyed nothing to the drowsy Greeks ; and after bathing the sleeping village in a flood of light for a few moments, the glare was shut off and the blackness of night took its place. The sounds died away, and all was silence once more ; but, strange to say, a rumble as of distant thunder, prolonged and reverberating, was heard, and continued for some time. CAPTURED THE BATTLESHIP. 258 The early rays of dawn revealed a sight which astonished the Greek commander. A_ whole tegiment of Turks were on the march towards the Straits of Arta with train after train of artillery, the last of which disappeared beyond the intervening headland before the ship’s guns could be brought to bear on them. The com mander, however, lost no time, and gave orders for the guns to be run out and the decks cleared for action, while the anchor was weighed, his intention being to prevent the Turks from fortifying the straits before they had be- come too strong. “ Full speed ahead!” went the order to the engine- room, and, pro pelled by her mighty screw, the _ battleship advanced — only to lurch backwards, as if dragged by some unseen force. Work as the engines | would, the vessel seemed to be in an en chanted circle, beyond which it was impossible to go. Again and again an effort was made, and when the bewildered captain reversed his engines he only met with the same disconcerting result. It was not till the sun’s rays had penetrated the deep blue water alongside that the secret was revealed, and the massive chain was discovered passing round the ship’s propeller and the adjacent rock. By the time it could be removed, however, the straits had been sufficiently fortified by the Turks, and a powerful Greek warship lay a help- less prisoner witHin.the land-locked waters of Arta.

Page 265

V. M. Hamilton. The Michigan State Prison, U.S.A., is proudly claimed to be the-world’s model penitentiary. Although it contains seven hundred of the worst characters in the States, the institution is governed, practically speaking, by kindness. The convicts are allowed all sorts of privileges; they can earn money for themselves; and by consistent good conduct they may rise to positions of trust and responsibility. The facts contained in this article, with an inspec- tion of the photographs, will considerably surprise people who hold that men are sent to jail to be punished for their crimes with the utmost severity of the law. p HAT every man has some good in him is an old, old story, but it has remained for a body of American prison officials to put this theory to ~ the test in a thoroughly practical, if at first sight somewhat startling, fashion. To say the least, the manner in which con- victs are treated in the United States is quite compatible with the “great things” one expects from the Land of the Stars and Stripes. Other men other methods, and when some years ago certain eminent criminologists decided to make a radical change in prison regulations experts in such matters and the general public made a great outcry against the proposed new arrange- ment. “Why not give pink teas?” “ Motor parties will be the real thing,” and other sensa- tional headings appeared above newspaper articles severely criticising the gentlemen who ventured to suggest such a daring scheme as the treatment of felons on kindly lines. The officials, however, went on their way unheeding, and gradually introduced the present régime, which is beginning to supersede, in all American prisons, the drastic discipline formerly in vogue. Mr. Alonzo Vincent, the warden of the Michigan State Prison, situated at Jackson, Michigan, U.S.A., was one of the first to put the new method into practice, and has had no reason since to return to the old state of affairs. A keen, intelligent man, thoroughly conversant’ with prison management, and above all a humanitarian, this gentleman has done more to set erring fellow-men aright than all the brutality and rigour of former days could ever accomplish. When corporal punishment was abolished in the Michigan State Prison by action of the Board of Control, an experiment was entered upon which, according to most prison-keepers (warders) and many others, would lead to the destruction -of all discipline. Ever since the prison was established in 1835 the flogging of rebellious prisoners had been the accepted means of punishment for infringement of ironclad rules. The cries of men undergoing this punishment were at one time so common as to almost form a part of the daily routine, but with the dawn of the idea that prisoners were, in spite of their crimes, constituted very much as other men susceptible to kindness, but

Page 266

THE WORLD'S MODEL PRISON. 257 OLD-TIME CELLS—THE POSTS TO THE LEFT WERF USED FOR TYING PRISONERS TO IN THE From aj FLOGGING DAYS. capable of being turned into brutes by in- humanity—the use of the “ paddle” became less frequent. No particular manifestation of cruelty inspired the abolition of flogging ; Warden Vincent believed that better results, both as regards disci- pline and refor- mation, could be achieved — with- out it. He was immediately denounced by a hostile Press as an incapable visionary who would breed anarchy in the institution, in which seven hundred of the wickedest men in the State were confined for their sins, but he stuck to his guns and carried out his ideas. The results have been _ startling, but not exactly Lie predictions of the critics, Enclosed by stone walls thirty feet high, and flanked by the main building, dining- room, and shops of the prison, is a green- sward of about an acre and a half. Here, on any Saturday afternoon in pleasant weather, a wonderful sight can be witnessed when the seven hun- dred prisoners, after their work in the shops, march out in military formation and “break ranks.” Prison discipline is relaxed, and the con- victs mingle together as unrestrictedly as though they were free men meeting friends and neighbours at a county fair. For three-quarters of an hour, subject only to the restriction that they behave themselves, the yard is theirs. Most of the prisoners hunt out friends and “visit.” Some begin a practice game of baseball, the American Whote. Sea*] ee we according to the Vol. xviii.—33. From a} THE PRISON BAND, COMPOSED OF CONVICT musIcIARS. Whote.

Page 267

258 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. nitional game; some lie prone on the beauti- fully - kept greensward and listen to the play- ing of the prison band, with prisoner musicians discoursing very good music from a stand in the corner of the en- closure. Others _ in- dulge in restrained skylarking. Occasion- ally a hearty laugh rings out. ‘The throng is more motley in character than in dress; the majority wear a neat blue cadet uni- form. of semi-military cut; not a man has clipped hair, not one is distinguished by the “prison pallor.” A smaller number are dressed in grey ; these latter have not attained the highest standard of prison perfection, and it is indicated by their uniforms. There is still another grade of uniform—the regulation prison “ stripes ” of black and white ; but the few who wear this— there were but six on the day the notes for this article were made—had left the shops before the others formed ranks, and marched through the pretty lawn, past the band-stand and flower- beds, to their cells, and had been immediately locked up for the night. They were under punishment, and none of the privileges were for them. The band plays, the ball-playing continues, and the “ visiting” is enjoyed for three-quarters of an hour, and it takes a sharp eye to detect the half-dozen blue-uniformed keepers (warders) standing on the edge of the crowd. It would be impossible to find a firearm, simply because there are none. The keepers— there are but thirty on the prison pay roll—carry canes; but no man is allowed to take a firearm past the prison gate, as the danger of prisoners securing such weapons is greater than the neces- sity for them to the officials. Not an armed guard is in sight, even on the stone walls; the few canes are absolutely the only show of force visible. An official who accompanies us points out individuals in the crowd whose crimes have appalled the country, It is human nature, per- haps, to select exceptional specimens even in a gathering of exceptionals, such as this one. “See “that man talking with those two tall fellows? He murdered —— a few years ago.’ EXTERIOR OF THE DINING-HALL AND KITCHEN. [Photo The crime is recalled with a shudder. “ That fine-looking fellow? Oh, he killed four persons in a train ‘hold-up.’ See that young man yonder? He is known as the ‘Gentleman Burglar’ ; the son of one of England’s proudest families.” The majority of the men are in prison for thieving of various kinds, but there are enough incarcerated for crimes of violence and passion to make a man wonder if he is not in rather more dangerous company than that in which the prophet Daniel once found himself. You communicate your misgivings to the officer, whereupon he laughs, and calls for a fine- looking man in a blue uniform who stands some distance away. ‘“X——,” says he, “this is Mr. Hamilton.” The prisoner touched his cap. He looked so gentlemanly that, American fashion, I offered my hand. Questions elicited the information that he was assistant to the prison doctor, and was endeavouring, with every prospect of success, to qualify himself for the practice of medicine if the day of freedom ever came. His words were well selected, his grammar quite faultless, his manner that of one man of good breeding addressing another. A moment later he was dismissed with a nod from the official. “This is his second term here,” said the officer, explanatorily. ‘“ He went bad as a boy, was sent to jail for burglary, and became one of the ‘ugliest’ men in the prison, requiring con- stant punishment. He served his time and came back in a few yearsyforthesame offence.

Page 268

THE WORLD’S MODEL PRISON. 259 Under the old system he had been flogged times without number, but could never go straight. He was classed among the very dangerous men of the prison. Now, you see, he has educated himself, and the State could hardly employ a free man to do his work for a thousand dollars a year. He puts in his evenings working for himself, writing letters for illiterate prisoners, and in other ways. ‘The little money he earns mostly goes to his old mother, who lives in the city.” “But is it quite safe with all these men-killers strolling about ?” The deputy warden laughed. “You make a common mistake,” he said. “From the stand- point of honesty, trustworthiness, and reliability, the murderers are the best men in the prison, as a class. Men generally kill while under the influence of an overpowering passion. ‘They may have great provocation, and believe they are only protecting their property or tamilies, or avenging an unpardonable wrong ; and a very decent sort of chap may have a bad temper but still be an honourable man. Of course, thieves who kill to save themselves from arrest, or those who commit wilful murder, hardly come within this category. But in actual practice we find the men of best character to be those who are here for murder. I do not attempt to explain the fact, but it zs a fact. The contractors (men who contract with the State for prison labour) 5 From a} A BLOCK OF MODERN CELLS—EACH HAS ITS OWN LAVATORY AND ELECTRIC Ligfit. —<[P4ofa. find them so, and are always anxious to secure them. ‘The thieving tramps and city loafers, who ordinarily are only sentenced to short terms, are the worst people whom we have to deal with.” There are no degrees of punishment in the Michigan State Prison. Just as soon as the convicted felon passes through the gates his previous life is blotted out, so far as the adminis- tration of the prison is concerned. He is no longer “ John Doe” the murderer (capital punishment has been abolished’ in the State of Michigan), about whose crime the whole country has been talking, but No. 7,243, let us say, in the probationary grade. From the first moment of his entry the fact is impressed upon him that none of the vindictiveness which society has apparently manifested towards him follows him inside the penitentiary walls. No account what- ever is taken of his crime. He has by his own action sacrificed his liberty ; his own actions, and those alone, it is endeavoured to teach him, will determine his future life. There is no motto “ Abandon hope all ye who enter here” over the prison gates. ‘The prisoner must pay the lawful penalty for his crime by being cut off from association with the world, but his first lesson is that, while the law condemns his past life, the State is not vindictive, does not believe him to be incorrigible, and will give him an oppor- tunity, even while punishing him, to shape rightly his future life. Except for the penalty de- creed by twelve of his fellow- citizens, the past is blotted out. It is an absolute democracy, — this Michigan — State Prison, where equality of oppor- tunity, of rewards, and punishments prevails, as per- haps nowhere else on earth. “Are there never attempts to tush the walls during the forty- five minutes of yard liberty?” the official is asked. “I think it would be as es. ’ much as a man’s

Page 269

260 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a\ life is worth to attempt anything of the kind,” he replied. “It is an unwritten law among the men that the privilege of the yard must be respected. When the plan was begun the prisoners were told that it was an experiment, and the privilege would be withdrawn if it was abused. The manner in which they guard their glimpse of sunshine has been very gratifying to the officers. There are a few men out there in the yard who would gladly cut the throats of acquaintances in the crowd—fellows whose testimony sent them here, perhaps; and there are others who would run the gauntlet of a A BASEBALL MATCH IN: PROGRESS. [Pheto. chances with this spell of liberty. They value it greatly, and will not allow it to be jeopardized. If a prisoner can “ beat” the prison authorities and escape in a manner which will not affect the welfare of his comrades he is applauded, but it would be dangerous to attempt a break from the yard. The plan has now _been in operation for three years, and during that time trouble of any kind has been practically unknown.” Gala days in the prison are those on which ball games are played. The prisoners have a baseball “nine ”—and a very good one—and several times during the season match games dozen rifles to regain their liberty. At very rare intervals talk which might lead to a fight crops up, but instant warning comes from all around, and if the quarrelling goes on force is used by the prisoners themselves to stop it. ‘The great majority of the men prefer to take no OUTSIDE. (Photo. are arranged with “ outside ” teams. The seven hundred prisoners are all discriminating critics, and watch the progress of the national game with breathless interest, while expert players among them are much the same popular heroes as in the outside world,

Page 270

THE WORLD'S At the expiration of the three-quarter-hour period of yard liberty a bell rings, and the men immediately “fall in” in semi-military formation, each company under command of the keeper who has supervision of them during their day’s work. Then the band plays a quick step and one company after another marches to the cell blocks. A small prize—a box of cigars, perhaps—is offered for the com- pany making the best appearance for a month during this evening drill, and the result upon the men’s bearing is remarkable. Heads up, keeping perfect step, and each man holding himself like a soldier under the eyes of his general, they march across the yard and are one by one swallowed up by the stone doorways which lead to the cell blocks. Last of all comes the band, playing its final march. The contrast with the shuffling walk and “lock-step” but a few years ago considered absolutely necessary to guard against a concerted break for freedom during the march across the yard is one of the most remarkable contrasts with the old régime afforded by the prison. When a new inmate arrives at the prison he is first of all given a bath, all his personal effects are taken away, except, perhaps, a few trinkets, and he is given a suit of grey. Then an official—the warden or his deputy—has a talk with him. ‘The prison rules are read and explained in a matter-of-fact way. Heis told that the grey suit which he wears is the outward indication that he is on probation. No matter how heinous his crime may have From a) MODEL PRISON. 261 been or how excusable, the process is always the same. It is made clear to him that as a probationer he is entitled to certain privileges. Strict and cheerful compliance with every rule will bring all these and lead to more. Dis- obedience or shiftlessness at his work, he is assured, lead to the loss of all privileges, and when once lost they can only be regained by months of exemplary conduct. He is then assigned to a cell and told that he may smoke. Over his pipe and tobacco he is allowed a certain time for consideration of his situation. The man is really at the parting of the ways. The fact that the prison officials are neither friends nor enemies, but are simply entrusted with the duty of carrying out the decree of the Court, has been impressed upon him, and bears due fruit. In Michigan all sentences for crimes less than murder are “indeterminate.” That is to say, beyond a minimum term of imprisonment, fixed by the trial judge, its duration is determined by the Board of Pardons, while its maximum is according to the statute. If the Board of Pardons is led to the conclusion, by the prisoner’s record and the representations made by the officials, that he will lead an honest life he may be “paroled” at any time after having served the minimum of his sentence, providing he can secure the services of a “first friend” who will engage to furnish or secure him employ- ment, and keep a general oversight over him. The paroled man must report to the warden, (Photo.

Page 271

262 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. either in person or by letter, once each month stating his employment, the amount of his earnings, and their disposition. Failure to comply with these conditions subjects him to arrest without warrant and return to prison, where he is treated not as a probationer, but is placed at the very foot of the ladder and deprived of all privileges. But to return to the new prisoner. On the second morning his convict life begins. At six o’clock in the morning he is roused by a bell, when he must arise, don his suit of grey, make his bed, and sweep his cell. At “second _ bell” — 6.25 — his cell is unlocked and he takes his place in the line, march- ing to the dining-room. Here he has breakfast—an ample meal including meat of some kind, good coffee, bread, butter, and potatoes. At 6.50 he “falls in” with his com- pany and marches to the shop to which he has been assigned. There are various employ- ments at the prison, conducted both by manufacturing firms and by the State itself. Agri- cultural implements are made in the trip-hammer and polish- ing shops; there is also a machine shop; and furniture, wagons, brooms, monuments, and grave- stones are also made in large quantities. The tailoring shop makes the prison uniforms, and there is also the laundry, the kitchen, the prison = From a) farm, and clerical work in the prison offices. The two latter employments are open only to men whose trustworthiness has been proved. The prisoners are allowed to talk at their work, though they must maintain silence in the diningroom and on the line of march. Each man is given a task, which he must perform to the satisfaction of the. contractor's foreman or the prison-keeper. After this is done he may work for himself at a stipulated rate of pay. He is not allowed to receive money directly, but the amount of such earnings is credited to him, and with them he may purchase prescribed luxuries—better shoes and under- clothing than the State supplies, or (and a great many do this) assist wife or aged parents. The men may also purchase extra bed- clothing or a mat, etc., for their cells. At THE INTERIOR OF A“ GOOD-CONDUCT MAN'S" CELL—NOTICE THE RUG ON THE many of the trades, after the prisoners become expert, they earn for themselves cight, ten, and sometimes as much as twenty dollars a month. At 11.40 work in the shops ceases and the men are marched to the dining-room, where a dinner: of good meat, bread and butter, vegetables, and coffee is provided. At 12.5 they are marched back to the shops and work is continued until 4.15. Expert men often finish their task before THE PICTURES AND OTHER KNICK-KNACKS. two o'clock, thus having more than two hours to work for themselves. Then, in the summer time, the whole of the prisoners are marched to the prison grounds and for three-quarters of an hour are turned loose. After this they are marched to their cells, where a supper of coffee and bread is given them. Every cell is well lighted and well ventilated, and until 6.15 there is a period of relaxation, and musical instru- ments —mouth-organs, guitars, and banjos — sound from many a cell. When the bell for silence is rung, however, every noise is instantly hushed, and before its reverberations cease the proverbial pin can almost be heard to drop. But there are nearly two more hours—two very profitable hours—in the prison day. ‘These are spent in reading, night schools, prayer meetings, writing letters home, and making

Page 272

THE WORLD'S MODEL * A From a) trinkets, which are sold to visitors. The prison has an excellent library, which is supplemented by all the leading magazines. Many of the prisoners are striving to fit themselves for a new life, when the day of freedom comes, with the aid of correspondence schools. At nine o'clock the electric lights are turned out, and everyone goes to bed. This is the daily routine for those prisoners who elect to observe the rules implicitly, and, in doing so, help themselves. _Misbehaviour leads to the loss of any or all of the following privileges—writing letters, yard liberty, reading matter, purchasing membership in musical organizations, eatables from home, receiving visitors, and permission to share in extras at table. The common-sense of a great majority of the prisoners almost immediately brings them to a realization of the fact that here at last virtue, manifested by good conduct and a dis- position towards self-improvement, brings its inherent reward, contumaciousness its certain punishment. Very often a man’s first lessons in self-restraint are here inculcated. Continued good behaviour promotes the pro- bationer to the second grade. — Still further exemplary behaviour puts him in the first grade AN ENTERTAINMENT IN THE PRISON GROUNDS. PRISON. 263 (Photo. —“ Perfect.” He is then eligible for a position of trust, where his record will assist him to gain that greatest of all attainable prizes—a parole— when he appears before the Board of Pardons with the plea that at last he has demonstrated his worthiness to again take his place among free men. It is, of course, inevitable that in such a com- munity some men will continue on the down- ward path, even though they only injure themselves. For such is the slough of despair of the third grade, whose members wear the hideous convict stripes, and from whom absolutely all privileges are withheld. They take their meals without meat at a separate table ; no extra pay comes to them; no yard freedom ; and while the others are enjoying themselves, the “third graders” are locked in their cells. Their cherished tobacco, even, has been sacrificed, and the unfortunate who has sunk to this grade must be perfect in conduct for many months before he can again move up. Very often theatrical companies playing in Jackson visit the prison and give a performance in the pretty little theatre built by the convicts. Sometimes, tog,-a visiting band plays alternate

Page 273

264 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. selections with the “ M.S.P.” band. On these occasions many ladies visit the institution, and are as free from annoyance as they might be at any social gathering elsewhere. And as to the results actually achieved under the new system, so far as the daily discipline is concerned, it has already been demonstrated to be an entire success. ‘The rules are more cheerfully obeyed, the prisoners do better work and more of it, and ensure that as many of these as possible are led to abandon a criminal life and become useful members of society. Maintain- ing discipline by force and fear is the easiest of all ways, and the most destructive to the self-respect and manhood of its subjects. If the prisoner can be discharged with the conviction firmly implanted in his mind that he alone is the architect of his future and that henceforth THE PRISON THEATRE, BUILT BY THE CONVICTS, WHERE TOURING COMPANIES OFTEN GIVE PERFORMANCES. From a Photo. assaults upon officers—previously of frequent occurrence—are unknown. The system is long past its experimental stage and has come to stay. Of greater importance, however, is the reforma- tive influence which the system exerts. Upwards of eighty per cent. of the inmates of the prison must some day be given their liberty, and the principal object of the whole system is to rewards and punishments will come pretty much as he deserves, as they did during prison life, a great deal has been accomplished towards his permanent reformation. For the photographs and many of the facts in this article I am indebted to Mr. C. E. Bridge- man, of Jackson, Michigan, and to the courtesy of Warden Vincent.

Page 274

Besieged by Monkeys. By R. WortLey Dopp. A queer experience that befell two young sportsmen while out for a day’s shooting in Rhodesia. HAD been working on the Morven gold-mine for three months, and had come into Bulawayo for a change and to look up my old friend, Jack Harvey. I found him staying, as usual, at the Queen’s Hotel, at the corner of Seventh Avenue and Rhodes Street. Jack seemed very down in the mouth and sorry for himself—a most unusual state of mind for him to be in. 5 “What's the matter,.o!ld boy?” I asked. “Have you fallen in love? Tell me all about it.” “Well, it’s a long story,” he replied, dejectedly. “To cut it short, I have got engaged to the dearest girl in all the world; but we had a row | this morning over some- thing, and—and I believe that it was all my fault, Roy.” This was news to me, for Jack had always seemed to me bent on bache- lordom. So I cheered him up as best I could, and asked him who the young lady was. “Miss X——,” he answered, “the daughter of the police- court magistrate. She has only just come back from England.” We spent the rest of the day together, and next morning, feeling very energetic, we de cided to visit the Matoppos and see Cecil Rhodes'’s grave. “How about Miss X——, Jack?” I asked. “TIL send her a line by my boy,” replied Jack. “TI shall ask her to forgive me, and see me this evening when I come back. Perhaps she'll have got over it by that time.” That “line” took a long time writing, and I began to think it must be serious with Jack. At last, however, the letter was sealed up and dispatched, and then we started off on horse- back, sending our boys ahead with the “scoff,” Vol. xviii. —34, THE AUTHOK, MR, Kk. WORTLEY bopp. From a Photo. by J. Neville. for we had decided not to stop at the hotel at the Matoppos, but to go straight ahead to Rhodes’s grave, have lunch there, and get back to town by dusk. We also took our guns, in case we saw any bok. After some rough riding we arrived safely at our destination, and gazed silently on the granite slab that marks the tomb of one of the greatest men the British Empire has ever pro- duced, a man whom we in Rhodesia respected and loved for his energy and open-handed generosity. After lunch, as the sun was getting some- what low in the western sky, we set out home- wards, intending to make all haste to get back. But there was more in store for us than we dreamed of. We had been riding for about half an hour, and were descending a gentle slope that led into what seemed a deep ravine or gorge, when we suddenly saw in front of us a magnificent pair of sable ante- lopes. Lifting our guns simultane- ously we fired. One buck immediately dashed off like lightning, while the other fell, but sprang up again at once and went away with long, loping strides, though the blood was stream- ing from its left shoulder. “We'll get him,” I cried to Jack ; “he’s badly hit.” Accordingly we started galloping after him, though with much diffi- culty, forthe ground was covered with small boulders, and care was necessary. ‘The boys, wildly excited, came running after us; they knew what was in store for them. If we managed to catch a bok it meant “meninga” (plenty) “scoff” for some days, and above all other things the natives love dried sable. The bok, we-could see, was making for the ON, JACK HARVEY, J. Ne

Page 275

266 THE WIDE WORLD lowest part of the gorge, and we anticipated that we should there find a water-hole. The animal kept on steadily, though it was plain he was hard hit, and soon it became rather difficult to see him, as the low shrubs grew thick as we got lower down, and we began to judge the fugitive's direction more by the noise he made than anything else. Still, however, we kept on after him, determined not to lose our quarry now we had come so far. The kopjes directly in front of us had up to this time been hidden by a clump of wide- spreading trees and a large knoll covered with granite boulders, but as we galloped past these we heard a peculiar chattering noise, and, looking up, saw a number of grimacing baboons, “LOOKING UP, WE SAW A XUMBEK OF GRIMACING BALOONS," evidently frightened by our sudden rush, running hither and thither over the top of the mound. We took no notice of them for the time being, for they are no unusual sight in the Matoppos, and we were intent on getting our sable. As we got out of the shadow of the trees we came on an open, grassy spot, and saw a kopje MAGAZINE. directly in front of us, with massive crags and rocks down to its very foot. As I remember now, the upper side of the hill seemed to jut forward with a great boulder on its top, and underneath all was gloom and darkness. “ Where’s the bok?” I shouted to Jack. “I can’t see it.” We both jumped off our horses and searched the ground for blood. We found it—great red drops staining the pure green, and leading directly beneath the jutting cliff. Following up the blood-traces, we found our- selves almost immediately in the gloom of a mighty cave. Through the intense darkness came the sound of running water, gurgling as it never seems to do in the light of day. We lit matches, and by the light they gave we saw, after going forward a few yards, that we were on the edge of a stream, which on our left hand appeared to emerge from the solid rock, and on our right led away into the blackness. In spite of our high spirits, we began to feel a little creepy. Still we saw no signs of the game. Where could it have vanished to? Following the course of the subterranean stream a little farther, we pre- sently came to a halt, for as far as we could see by the flickering match-light the rock that formed an archway over the stream barred our pro- gress. We could go no farther, so we reluctantly turned back. When we got to the entrance of the cave our eyes were at first dazzled by the sudden brightness of the light, but soon we became aware of a peculiar chattering noise in front, and, looking out, could scarcely believe our eyes. There in front, in the little open glade and on the mound, were, it seemed to us, hundreds and hundreds of baboons! The place was literally alive with them ; they swarmed in every direction, of all sizes and all ages. Some were grimacing and mowing at us, others were sitting in their peculiar dog-like attitude, thrusting their hound- like faces towards us, while yet others were sniffing suspiciously at the drops of blood. All were making a curious guttural chattering as though they were in doubt about something, ( va > Digitized by © ,00gle

Page 276

BESIEGED BY MONKEYS. : 267 and were debating exactly how to proceed. I almost laughed at first, so intensely humorous did some of the expressions on their faces seem to me—but it was to be no laughing matter for us, as we soon found out. I looked at Jack, and Jack looked at me. “ Where are the horses, Jack?” I asked. “Don't know,” replied Jack, “unless these beggars have eaten them ; and they look hungry enough for anything. I expect they dashed off when they saw this mob come along.” “T expect so myself,” I answered, rather lugubriously. “T don’t see, though, how we are going to get through the brutes with a whole skin un- less we can frighten them in some way. What do you think 2?” 4 “T think we had better go back inside the cave and fire at the mob together,” said Jack. “If they bolt, then we can cut for it, but if they only get more infuriated than they are now, we shall be quite safe in here.” “Very well,” I said, shortly. 1 began to see that we were in a bit of a mess. We retreated backwards, took careful aim with our Lee- Metfords at two of the largest baboons we could see, and fired. The pandemonium that ensued passes description. The two monkeys we had aimed at fell dead on the grass, but the others, instead of running away, as we hoped they would, jumped hither and thither around their dead comrades, jabbering and swearing (so it seemed) savagely. Evidently they were not afraid of the guns—I suppose on account of their numbers—for, as I have said, there was an enormous crowd of them. They appeared to have gathered the whole tribe together from all the surrounding kopjes, in order to compass our downfall. Again Jack and I fired, bringing down another couple (it would have been impossible to miss, even if we had tried to), but this seemed to have a worse effect than ever, for the baboons became absolutely frantic with rage, gibbering and racing across the mouth of the cave, as if they were half inclined to come in and try their luck at close quarters. One big fellow, indeed, sprang right in with a curious “A WELL-DIRECTE -we shall have to camp here all night. yelping noise, for all the world like a dog when it is on a hot scent, but a well-directed bullet from Jack stopped him at once. None of them, after that, seemed desirous of coming to close quarters, and we were not sorry, for our stock of cartridges was getting low, and we felt we should need all our resources if we were ever to get out of this predicament. “Jack,” I said, after watching the scrambling T FROM JACK STOPPED HIM AT ONCE. crowd outside for a little while, “I think we’d better keep quiet and see if they will go away of their own accord.” “T don’t see that we can do anything else, Roy,” he answered, somewhat hopelessly. “It will soon be dusk, and if they don’t go presently And I promised to meet Miss X——!” he added, dolefully. So we waited silently till it began to grow dark, but to our disgust the baboons gave no signs of shifting, and we therefore decided to make the best of a bad business and camp where we were. We found enough dried stuff to build a fire, but we did not pass a comfort- able night by any means. I shall never forget it. The flames cast a flickering light on the

Page 277

268 ‘ sides of the cavern, and always, through the excited chattering of the monkeys glaring at us from the gloom outside, we heard the murmur of the subterranean stream. If the baboons took it into their heads to attack us we were practically helpless, for our ammunition was all but exhausted, and we should quickly be borne down by sheer weight of numbers. We thought of similar mishaps “(1 QUICKLY LET OUT WITH THE DRY BRANCH IN MY HAN that had befallen other sportsmen, and felt far from cheerful.* We decided to divide the night into watches of two hours each, starting at ten o’clock. I took the first watch, and Jack lay down by the fire. After some desultory conversation he soon dropped off to sleep. About half-past eleven I was trying quietly to gather some more wood for our fire, when an alarming hiss at my side startled me. Not a yard away was a huge snake, slowly moving its body from side to side, and evidently on the point of striking. I did not give it time, however, but quickly let out with the dry branch in my hand * See " Beset by Baboons "in our issue for June, 1906.—Ep. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. and caught it just below its gleaming eyes. That broke its back, whereupon I soon dispatched it. The noise awoke Jack, who called out sleepily, “What's up ?” “Only a snake,” I answered, as coolly as I could, though the incident had somewhat shaken my nerves, already strung to a high pitch. “Killed it ?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied. ‘ Come and have a look.” He came over, and we hauled it close to the fire. It was a large mamba, about thirteen feet long, and very deadly. It had evidently been attracted by the heat of our fire. Nothing happened during Jack’s watch from one o'clock till two, but about three I was overcome with sleep, and was on the point of dozing off when a most awful yell rang through the cave. I sat up just in time to see a dark form shoot past me. For a moment I thought the baboons were on us en masse, until I heard Jack’s voice. “What in the name of all the saints was that?” he shouted. “Something grabbed me by the foot and gave me an awful pinch.” “Tt must have been a baboon,” Tanswered. “I saw a figure leap past me when you yelled out.” “Well,” he growled, “one baboon’s enough for me to-night, anyway. I vote we watch together till daybreak.” Dawn came at last, but the monkeys were still there — hun- dreds of them—sitting round ina solemn semicircle, gazing into the mouth of the cave, and apparently in no hurry to move, After wait- b” ing for four hours or so we began to feel ravenously hungry and in a mood for any mad scheme. Presently one sug- gested itself to me that afterwards turned out our salvation. “Jack,” I said, “let’s see how deep the stream is, and follow it up as far as we can.” No sooner said than done. ‘To our great joy we found it quite shallow—the water did not reach higher than our knees. We had provided ourselves with rough torches from the fire, but they did not last long. We got into the stream as we were, and by following the rocky sides guided ourselves beneath the overhanging arch. Tt was at this point of our adventure that we had the worst time. There was a horrible feel- ing of intense loneliness in that black tunnel, so shut away from everything did we seem. ‘i SSE

Page 278

BESIEGED BY MONKEYS. 269 But we did not mean to give in, and steadily groped our way forward until our improvised torches were almost out, their light serving only to intensify the thick darkness that covered us in like a pall. At last, however, our perseverance had its reward. We had gone about fifty yards, when the tunnel suddenly ceased and we saw dimly that we were in an immense cavern, with steep, rocky sides sloping into the stream. Our hearts beat high with hope, for if there was light there must be an opening somewhere. Hurrying on and scrambling round a boulder we both stopped, for there, pendulous in the gloom like a shining sword of silver, was a broad ray of light. “Eureka!” we cried, and began eagerly climbing up towards it. After a few falls we discovered to our joy that the light came from a cleft in the side of the cavern. It was just over our heads, so we could see nothing but the blue sky, but that was wel- come enough. After putting down our rifles Jack got on my shoulders and, gripping a cre- vice in the rock, hauled himself up, and with an effort squeezed through. Just then the muffled — report of a rifle came to my ears, and to my astonish- ment Jack, with a hurried shout of “Wait a minute, Roy— we're safe!” dashed away, “What can it all mean?” IT wondered, as I heard repeated shots and shout- ings. In a few minutes, how- ever, I saw Jack’s face again, and behind him that of his grinning boy. They soon hauled me out, and then I saw why Jack “JACK GOT ON MY SHOULDERS AND HAULED HIMSELF (Ur. had run away. At the foot of the kopje I beheld a beautiful girl in riding costume standing, and near by her pony and my Kaffir servant. . Jack, wildly excited, dashed away down the kopje, caught the girl in his arms, and kissed her before I had time to get down. Then he had the decency to introduce me, and, as I had expected, I found the lady to be Miss X——, the magistrate’s daughter and Jack’s france. At this point two of the British South Africa Police rode up, and with them young X——, the lady’s brother. To cut a long story short, we found that our two boys, on seeing the crowd of infuriated baboons, had run away, and, coming across our horses, had ridden them into Bulawayo. By this time it was late—about eleven o’clock—so they said nothing that night. Next morning, however, they went to the magistrate and said thatthe monkeys had killed us. A couple of B.S.A.P. were sent for at once, and meanwhile young X and his anxious sister, whom no entreaties could induce to stay behind, set out on our tracks with the boys. They found the mound and the waiting crowd of *monkeys, and promptly sent a volley into them from the rear, with the result that they fled precipitately. Then Jack ap- peared from the opening, and you know the rest. A few weeks after I was best man at Harvey’s wedding, and I think there only one on my = part— that he had met Miss X be- fore 1 did.

Page 279

CHRISTMAS IN MONTENEGRO. By RecinaLp Wyon. An amusing description by an eye-witness —- and sufferer —of the curious way in which Christmas is celebrated in picturesque Montenegro. “For the stranger,” writes the author, “Christmas is a function to be experienced once and thereafter avoided.” <a NLY people of the most robust constitution can survive a Monte- negrin festival. There are many during the year, but the most try- ing is undoubtedly Christmas. It is true that Easter runs it a close second, and even Whitsuntide will disable a man possessed of mere average health, but Christmas puts both of these auspicious occasions into the shade. It happened to be my first Christmas, and though I had successfully emerged from all the other festivals, I entered into it in no spirit of reckless levity. The orthodox Christmas of 1905 fell on a Sunday, being thirteen days later than our own, and for the preceding week I had the greatest difficulty in persuading my land- lord to supply me with meat foods. Being a carnivorous animal and, furthermore, not a member of the Greek Orthodox Church, I did not feel inclined to subsist on pickled beans and cabbage for six long days. However, we overcame the little difficulty and I ate tough beef as usual, except that my meals were served in solitary state in the seclusion of my bedroom. At last Christmas Eve arrived. Before every house stood many logs of oak, one for each member of the family, and at sunset these Yuletide logs were taken inside with great ceremony and cast upon the fire. The next event was trying to the nerves. I had been rather out of sorts all day and had gone round to Elia’s inn for a little comfort, when two or three men suddenly walked to the door and emptied their enormous revolvers into the stilly night, The effect upon my nerves was most un- pleasant, and I am ashamed to confess that I visibly jumped—to the vast amazement of my com- panions, However, there was nothing to do but to grin and bear it, though a little later I was annoyed by a ruffian preceding me down the main street, who discharged his revolver with disgusting irregularity. But I found that by keeping in the middle of the wide road I could at “) WAS ANNOVED BY A RUFFIAN PRECEDING ME WHO DISCHARGED HIS’ REVOLVER WITH DISGYSTIAG IRREGULARITY,” least avoid the sudden firing directly in my ear by men who rushed cheerfully to their front doors to blaze away. This fusillade of rifles, revolvers, and bombs lasted till sunrise, and an imaginative man could well liken the racket to a pitched battle. Later on in the evening, I confess, I found myself armed with a six-shooter and a box of fifty cartridges, and emptying the last six chambers from the balcony of my room about one o'clock in the morning. As my weary eyelids closed in slumber I faintly heard a party of Albanians serenading me below my window in Christmas Eve fashion—with their pistols. But the fusillade merely lulled me to sleep; T had become accustomed to it. JOWNTUNE, MAIN STREET,

Page 280

CHRISTMAS From a) A GENERAL VIEW OF PODGORICA. Now, though the discharge of firearms as a token of greeting or farewell is common through- out Montenegro, where everyone goes armed as a matter of course, it is sternly prohibited within the precincts of towns, and, indeed, little notice-boards indicate the line where shooting may commence. And nowhere is this rule more strictly enforced than in Podgorica, the scene of this particular Christmas, because of the close proximity of the Albanian frontier and the mixed population of Montenegrins, Albanians, and Turks. ‘Here deadly enemies are wont to meet in the market as on strictly neutral territory. , Hence this exception made once a year on Christmas Eve is worthy of note. When I awoke on Christmas morning I was brim-full of good resolutions. “Look here,” I remarked to myself whilst dressing, “you know what these affairs are like. Don’t begin this wretched house-to-house visiting till noon, and then you wi'l have a chance of lasting out the day.” Ere I had finished my coffee my old servant Stefan came in and wished me a happy Christmas. He smiled sardonically when I repeated the above remarks, and replied politely :— “As you will, Gospodin. But what will you do till then ?” “Walk about, you ass,” I answered, rudely, gulping down a nearly raw egg. Here, as else- where in the country, they have no idea of boiling an egg the proper length of time. “Good,” said Stefan, looking out of the window, with a smile. On coming downstairs my landlord, his pretty wife, and children waylaid me with the customary IN MONTENEGRO. ,27t greetings of the season. An attempt was made to lead me into.a room where all manner of viands, jugs of wine, and , decanters of native spirit were displayed. “No,” I said, firmly. “Iam going to Sufo for a shave. I have only just breakfasted, and I am hanged if I will take anything before noon.” “Just one. It is the custom,” they said, pleadingly, and a few pairs of hands gently but forcibly projected me into the room where the pretty landlady, gaily clad in the white and gold and crimson costume of the country, presented me with a glass of raki. I thanked her, of course, but the ill-concealed grin on Stefan’s face annoyed me. On leaving I intimated that I should not be eating in the house that day, but should do so on the morrow as usual. “You may eat here all to-day and to-morrow,” said the landlord. ‘“ But as our guest. We take no money at Christmas.” Fleeing from a rather fat piece of pork held at me on a fork, I emerged on the street, and, looking neither to the right nor left, I reached Sufo, the barber, in safety. I felt I must get that shave over at any cost. Stefan stood over me whilst I underwent the weird shaving process as practised by that villainous-looking rascal, my old friend Sufo of Albania. When the latter had finished scraping my face to the smoothness of a billiard ball and applied the necessary soothing lotions, and I had gone through the usual argument as to whether I would not have my neck or my back hair shaved as well, an attendant proffered me a glass of raki, a cup of coffee, and a cigarette. 1 accepted the two latter, but in the act of declining the first I caught sight of a deeply- injured look on Sufo’s face. The irritating Stefan smiled again. Outside I immediately ran into Milan’s arms, and he bore me off to his house and fascinating Greek wife. Here it would have been churlish to refuse, and T-accepted raki at her fair hands, [Photo.

Page 281

372 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Also I was booked to dine there that evening, though I tried to leave the engagement open. Young Lieutenant Milosh came in at this juncture, and reminded me of my promise to go to his mother’s house that day. We would go there at once, he said. As I left his house Petar, the gendarme, who lived opposite, captured me, and here I had to perform the first of many trying ceremonies. Let me here describe a typical Montenegrin room. Some-were more luxuriously furnished “AT THE FIRST ATT than others, of course, according to the financial standing of the owner, and many were mere huts with floors of beaten earth, where a whole family lived in one room; but in all was the same display of food and drink on a table in the centre of the room. Either a lamb, sheep, or pig figured, roasted whole, and with an orange in its mouth. Round about was a ham or two, a very few knives and forks, a goodly number of various sized glasses, dishes of figs and other dried fruits, and plates of sweets and cakes. The first guest of sufficient social standing or senior relation is given a sword or handjar (a yataghan and national weapon), and he, remark- ing facetiously that there is a thief present with the stolen booty in his mouth, proceeds to decapitate the corpse with, if possible, a single stroke. A failure causes much good-natured © * 2 PREM A A ene T I SMASHED A pIsu." derision and embarrassment to the unskilful swordsman. At my first attempt I smashed a dish and badly notched the table below. I felt un- happy at the damage, but the spectators merely crowed with delight. On the second occasion I modified the strength of the blow, whereupon ( yoole

Page 282

~ CHRISTMAS IN MONTENEGRO. 273 I became the butt of Montenegrin chaff. After that I declined to try again. The awfulness of it all was the continuous eating. An active man can perhaps visit three different houses in half an hour. At each he must consume a mouthful or two of meat cut off anywhere he fancies from the carcass, perhaps a piece of ham and a fig. Also, he must drink his host’s health in either wine or spirits. This goes on without cessation for two whole _ days. On the third it moderates, for obvious reasons, but open house is still kept. The inns are closed, or, if open, no money is taken, for in that case it simply means the land- lord lives there and you are visiting his house as a friend. Now, I have a fairly large circle of acquaint- ances in Podgorica. There were other visits of ceremony that I had to make—to the governor, to the chiefs of tribunal, the officers, and the burgomaster. Unhappily, I forgot all about the latter worthy till I met him ina house at the Vol. xviii.—35, end of the second day, when he was so hurt at my seeming neglect that I rushed off there and then in desperation to eat his bit of pork. Could [ have confined myself solely to my friends I might have emerged from the fray unscathed ; but in this dreadful business you hunt in packs, so to speak. For instance, you may be five men in a party, all mutually acquainted, but each with a different set of relations and friends. The gallant five visit the aeen “1 WAS RECEIVED RAPTUROUSLY BY THAT ANCIENT WARRIOR." « whole crowd, and at quite fifty per cent. of the houses I visited I did not know the owners from Adam. Very often the head of the house was out visiting as well, but that made no difference ; the wife and the daughters, the aunts and grandmothers, were there. Lazo, the son of Baco, bore me off to dinner at midday, and I was received rapturously by that ancient warrior his father. Kissing me affectionately, the old man carved sundry delicate morsels from the already mutilated carcass, and (beamed) with> delight as I battled

Page 283

274 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. with the heap of dainties. By that time I had eaten as much as would have ordinarily lasted me for three days, and was feeling tired. “Now, Gospodin, we will have dinner,” remarked the smiling Lazo, as I wearily pushed away the still half-laden plate, and he rose to lead me into another room. 1 stared at him with horror. “What, Lazo?” I inquired, feebly, pointing to the half-finished plate. “ What, then, is this ?” He looked astonished. “That,” he answered, “is for all our guests, but for you I have prepared a hot dish of pork and sausage. Come, it is already served.” To this hour Lazo still attributes the reason of my utter discomfiture early that evening to my un- accountable refusal to take any dinner with him. The rest of that afternoon and evening is to me a hazy dream. Many men thanked me subsequently for the honour of my visit, to whom I blushingly made answer that the pleasure had been mine. Milan’s wife, though, was very angry that I did not appear that evening. She also added, some what to my relief, that nearly all the single men invited had been too tired to come, and asked me how I could explain this strange coincidence. “The married men did come with their wives,” she added, naively, ‘though two did go to sleep during the music afterwards.” I said it was probably the unusual dampness of the atmosphere, and as it had rained hard all day she accepted the solution. The next morning I discreetly remained in bed, irksome as it was, till the late afternoon, and happily there reigned on the third and last day of the festival such an air of depressed melancholy in the town, such a marked dis- inclination for conversation, that it was almost comforting. Apart, however, from the unesthetic side of a Montenegrin Christmas, there is a good deal to be said in its favour. Firstly, the hospitality displayed is most spon- taneous and universal. A complete stranger, be he Turk, Catholic, Albanian, or even a gipsy, that most despised individual, can enter any house and eat and drink his fill. If a Mohammedan, he may demand coffee or syrup, and he will be gladly served. The expense entailed by this promiscuous hospitality is enormous, and all the more remarkable when it is remembered how poor the country is. The poorest family will expend at least a pound on its Christmas entertaining, and the average can be safely taken at three pounds a head. Another point to be borne in mind is the extreme frugality which usually characterizes the life of the bulk of the popu- lation. Meat is only indulged in on these festive occasions, and is preceded by a week of most rigid fasting—and this in an existence which to our ideas is one long life of abstinence. But for the well-nourished stranger Christ- mas is a function to be experienced once and thereafter rigidly avoided—it is too trying. From a} THE MARKET-PLACE OF PODGORICA, A FAVOURITE RENDEZVOUS DURING THE CHRISTMAS FESTIVITIES.

Page 284

She Poacher’s Daughter. By Wituiam Lorp WRIGHT, OF BELLEFONTAINE, OHIO. A stirring story of the desperate and seemingly endless feud which exists between the Game Wardens of Lewistown Reservoir, Ohio, and the mysterious ‘“‘Snakehunters’’ who lurk in the island fastnesses of that great artificial lake. Mr. Wright is an authority upon this region, and the narrative was told to him exclusively by the officer chiefly concerned, on the understanding that his own name and that of the brave girl who saved his life at the risk of her own should be altered. VENTIDE at Lewistown Reservoir is justly noted as being magnificently beautiful, and the glow of the sinking sun on the gth of July, 1905, turned the ten thousand acres of bright, clear water to crimson. ver to the northward, how- ever, Turkeyfoot Island and Sassafras Point loomed, as ever, dark, sinister, and foreboding. The islands appeared as little dots from the Lakeview road, but though far away they were a From the village of Lakeview to the Bulk- head, down the embankment road, is two miles as the crow flies; and late that July afternoon significant sounds came from the road to the people of Norviel’s Landing—sounds which pro- mised excitement. A revolver crack was fol- lowed quickly by the spiteful snap of Winchester rifles ; then the firing came nearer, and presently a man, hatless and coatless, could be seen tunning swiftly, dodging to right and left like a “THE FUGITIVE WAS HEADING STRAIGHT FOR THE BOAT-LANDING, AND NOT FAR BEHIND HIM CAME THREE PURSUERS.” yet too close for the comfort of the denizens of the Bulkhead and Lakeview. Having a tacit understanding with those law- less night-prowlers, the poachers who made Turkeyfoot and Sassafras their head-quarters, the natives residing near the banks of the State reservoir were at that time content to retire within doors rather early in the evening. frightened deer. Nearer and yet nearer he came to the little knot of men now collected in the roadway. The fugitive was heading straight for the Bulkhead boat-landing, and not far behind came three pursuers, armed with guns, and using them too, as the quick puffs of white smoke and the.occasional sharp reports testified. Withoap smoking revolver in his hand, and

Page 285

276 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. disdaining more than one menacing glance towards the astonished group of natives, the man rushed past, sprang into a skiff at the landing, and propelled it with frantic haste out over the waters. With every indication of rage the others hurried after him. ‘Two clambered into a boat, cutting the rope securing it, and another race, this time over the reservoir, resulted. The third man paused at the boat- landing and, taking careful aim, fired at the fugitive, who was now rowing for dear life. “What might the matter be?” timorously inquired one of the spectators, while the others stood with mouths agape. “A confounded poacher, of course ; been chasin’ him clear from Lakeview. Why on earth didn’t some of you great fellows stop him?” fairly shouted the Game Warden. Straight towards Turkeyfoot Island headed the desperate man, but the wardens, two to one, rapidly lessened the distance between them. Now and again one officer would lay aside his oars and blaze away with his rifle, apparently without effect. Nearer and nearer, in the gathering gloom, the boats approached Turkey- foot Island. The wardens redoubled their efforts, and the man appeared to have little chance of escape. Soon the island was just ahead. Tall trees and tangled underbrush cast inky shadows into the surrounding waters. No sign of life was apparent, but an uncanny influence seemed to pervade the atmosphere. It must have affected the participants in the race, for all of them knew only too well that vigilant eyes from among the vegetation were watching their every move. Within a boat’s length of their man the officers called to him to surrender. He did not answer, but, springing from his skiff into the water, swam desperately to shore, and then plunged into the thickets. Daring as they were, the Game Wardens made not the slightest effort to follow, paddling slowly back the way they had come. “Waal, what yer doin’ here?” The stern query came with startling sudden- ness to the panting fugitive, who had so narrowly escaped from those bent upon his capture. He stood, dripping and breathless, in an open place among the shadows, and confronting him were a middle-aged man and a girl of, perhaps, eighteen or twenty, with a mop of tawny hair surrounding a sun-tanned but not unpleasing face. The man looked decidedly menacing in his wild uncouthness, and the stranger involun- tarily shuddered ashe gazed upon his brutal visage. “Air yer deaf an’ dumb? ‘What yer doin’ here,’ I axed.” The interrogator impatiently shifted the rifle he was carrying. “The ‘cops’ caught me tryin’ to net over by Lakeview, an’ they chased me two mile. I got away by the skin of my teeth—an’ that’s the whole story,” was the dogged answer. “ An’ a likely story it is! Go on back an’ take yer med’cine ; we don’t want no stranger round these here parts. Yer boat’s out there ; go an’ git it.” The stranger glanced hesitatingly at the couple, his gaze shifting from one to the other. He was tall, slender, young, and not unhand- some. He looked appealingly into the girl’s eyes. “Pap, he goes back to th’ camp,” said she, decisively. The man addressed peered curiously into the girl’s face, but she met the look defiantly. Then he shrugged his shoulders resignedly and without another word led the advance into the interior of the wilderness. A few days previous to the events just described members of the Ohio Fish and Game Commission, in secret consultation at Columbus, Ohio, agreed that heroic measures were neces- sary in order to successfully arrest and convict the dreaded gangs of poachers infesting the great reservoir. Every altempt to capture them hitherto had failed, partly owing to the outlaws’ cunning, but principally because of their fami- liarity with unexplored fastnesses where they lurked in safety. Encouraged by their success the poachers became bolder. Their trap, gill, and trammel nets were everywhere, and thousands of pounds’ weight of bass, netted by the desperadoes, were openly sold. Not only was the dignity of the law assailed, but the future value to the State of its fishing preserve depended upon checking their depredations. Lewistown Reservoir is situated in the north- western part of Stokes Township, Logan County, Ohio, and is claimed to be the second largest artificial body of water in the world. It was originally built at great cost to feed the Miami and Erie canals—which divide Ohio: southward for a distance of one hundred miles—and by a special Act of the Legislature was made a State fishing reserve. Concerning the poachers, known familiarly as “Snakehunters,” weird stories were in circula- tion. It was whispered among the older reser- voir fishermen that the clan worshipped rattle- snakes, so abundant in their haunts. Strange and mysterious rites were said to be observed at the midnight hour on the unexplored islands of Turkeyfoot and Sassafras Point ; and the few people who had ever had anything to do with the ‘“Snakehunters” only answered with a wise look when the subject was broached.

Page 286

THE POACHER’S DAUGHTER. 277 The: “ Snakehunters ”—and_ particularly the “Weasel,” their leader—-were shrewd enough to make their infrequent visits to the reservoir bulkhead as mysterious as possible, and to encourage in every possible way the impossible stories circulated about their doings. No native ever ventured into the enemy’s strongholds ; and so it was to locate these dens and to identify the poachers themselves that John Harrington, a Game Warden, of Cleveland, Ohio, was called upon by the Commission and asked to take his life into his hands. The exciting escape described in the first part of this story was all make-believe—simply a From a) clever scheme originated in Harrington’s re- sourceful brain, and intended to give the out- laws confidence in his Jona fides. It was a desperate move, certainly, voluntarily to deliver oneself into the hands of men to whom red- handed murder was no crime, but it was a plan likely to succeed from its very daring. Once familiar with the poachers’ habits and haunts, the officer could deliver them into the hands of the law. But, although he knew it not, young Harring- ton, successful in a hundred grim struggles with Lake Erie poachers, was barely to escape death and to have many exciting experiences in his battle with the Lewistown Reservoir ‘ Snake- hunters.” The man who had accosted the pseudo- fugitive, and who had now led the way to the encampment of the poachers, was none other THE ‘ WEASEL'S" HUT ON TURKEYFOOT ISLAND. than the implacable “ Weasel” himself, leader of the poachers, and with him was his daughter Mag. Seemingly just as cruel as her worthy parent, Mag was likewise shunned and feared by out- siders. She could poach, shoot, and handle an oar with the best of them, and had participated in many a fight with the wardens. She was termed “ Mad Mag,” because she knew nothing but how to poach and kill and fight against that hereditary enemy of her clan, the law. Darkness had fallen when the camp was reached, several miles in the interior of ‘Turkey- . foot. Ina large space cleared among the trees (Photo. some huts were scattered. Two large log-fires cast a lurid, dancing light over the scene. Stopped by a picket, the ‘‘ Weasel” muttered something, whereupon the party was permitted to pass. ‘The only stranger, possibly, who had penetrated to the “Snakehunters’” stronghold for years, Harrington’s appearance was the cause of a mild sensation, and so evident was the dis- trust of him that even their leader volunteered a few gruff words of explanation. Then the stranger was given a more cordial welcome, and one or two of the dozen outlaws gathered there growled out a few sentences indicative of pleasure at making his acquaint- ance, for anyone who had “ bested” the hated wardens had their entireapprobation Desperate- looking men they were, clad in ragged home- spun, and differing in no way in outward appearancefrom their fiercé leader. The few

Page 287

278 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. women about were busily engaged in preparing supper. They were creatures, like the Indian squaw, meek and submissive to their brutal masters’ wills. Mag seemed to be the one exception, for she decmed herself the equal of the best man there, and evidently was so considered. After a supper of fish Harrington was led to an empty cabin, which he was informed was to be his abode. The door was shut and barred after he had entered, for as yet the outlaws did not altogether trust him. Days passed, and still Harrington was not permitted out of sight of the poachers; at least one of the clan was always near him—an appointed and armed watchman. Mag, the leader’s daughter, often performed the duty, and as time went on the two became more closely associated. She was always armed, however, and would not have hesitated to kill Harrington had he attempted to escape. Several times the signal agreed upon had been displayed from the mainland, but Har- rington perforce ignored it, although his work was virtually accomplished—he had located the outlaws’ hiding- place and could identify the ringleaders. When he should answer the im- patient signs a boat would come for him in the night and a raid would follow at once. As yet, however, he had had no opportunity to signal his fellow-officers —the watch kept upon him wus too strict. Mag, the fierce daughter of the cunning “Weasel,” gradually changed her attitude to- wards her prisoner as the days went by. She watched him a little less closely, perhaps, and she would listen with rapt attention as Harrington spun for her long yarns of the strange world outside and of the people in It. Together they accompanied the poachers to lift the nets, from which each night hundreds of fine bass were taken ; together they helped to operate the still located a mile in rear of the camp, where “moonshine” whisky was made for sale; and once Harrington saved the girl | from her father’s brutal violence, and in so doing incurred the “ Weasel’s” bitter enmity. The other poachers paid him but scant atten- tion; he proved a valuable accessory in their unlawful pursuits and never asked for a share of the spoils. The ‘ Weasel,” nevertheless, eyed him with constant distrust, and the young officer felt that the least false move on his part would bring about his death. And now came the concerted attack of the “Snakehunters ” upon the village of Lakeview. The desperate plan had been evolved in the “Weasel’s” fertile brain, and was nothing else to rejoin his fellow-officers. than to cause a break in the embankment, and so flood the town with a rush of waters, drowning the inhabitants and the farmers in the lowlands below like so many rats ! The poachers were aware that several wardens had been staying recently in the village, and the newspaper men who accompanied them also aroused their distrust. Fancied wrongs and the memory of more than one fight with the villagers only added fuel to the long-smouldering flames of their hatred. During July the waters of the reservoir are very high, and huge waves dash night and day over the retaining wall of the waste-weir at the Bulkhead. No water is needed at this season to feed the canals, as there is but little business doing, and the pent-in waters constantly fret against the banks, only awaiting a small breach to rush and roar through Lakeview, the little village nestling under the giant west dam. On the night of July 22nd Harrington was On the night of July 22nd also the “ Snakehunters ” had decided to attack the embankment shielding Lakeview from the waves. That morning Harrington had given the mutual signal to the mainland, and, as arranged, a boat was to creep to the isle in the shadows of night. He had been kept in ignorance of the pro- posed vengeance of the poachers upon the hapless villagers, and believede he had arranged his plans for escape undetected. But it was not so. Mag, his self-appointed guardian, hiding near at hand, had watched him signalling to the hated Bulkhead. She gave no alarm, but crawled quietly away, evidently having plans of her own. It was a wild night; the thunder crashed and rolled incessantly, and the rain beat down viciously upon the cabin in which the anxious Harrington was confined. The noise of the storm hid the sounds of his cutting through a wall of the wooden hut— a task which he was obliged to accomplish with a small knife, his only tool. At last, after several hours of exhausting labour, he accomplished the task of cutting a hole large enough for him to squeeze through. After creeping through the cavity he had to pass one of the fires, now burning low. His heart gave a bound as he saw a solitary sentry stand- ing directly in his path with his back to the hut. Harrington crawled towards the man with his knife ready. The poacher stirred. Closer yet did the Game Warden glide, till he was but a few yards away. The sentinel yawned, stretched himself, and started somewhat as a sharp clap of thunder reverberatéd over his head. Then he

Page 288

THE POACHER’S DAUGHTER. 279 turned leisurely round —to look directly into Harrington’s blazing eyes! He was too late to give an alarm, for the officer’s fingers clutched at his throat on the instant, and the struggling pair fell to the earth together, the warden on top. Harrington’s fingers tightened relentlessly around the “Snake- hunter’s” neck, till at last the man became black in the face and his limbs relaxed. Then, without waiting to secure the poacher’s rifle, Harrington rose to his feet and ran for his life. Some distance intervened _be- tween the camp and the boats, and presently the warden dis- covered to his intense horror that the great hounds chained near the “ Wea- sel’s” hut were aroused, for the noise of their sharp yelps came to him as he stumbled along. Straight down the path he ran, now dashing against trees and once falling pro- strate as his foot caught in a trail- ing vine. Then a sinister sound reached him — the deep baying of the hungry dogs. The animals were trailing him! He could picture them in his mind with their foam-flecked jaws and reddened eyes. If those dogs once overtook him he would be torn to pieces ! The boats were now near at hand, but so were the dogs and men. The yelps and angry shouts came nearer, for the trail was familiar and the scent hot. Reaching the shore, the almost ex- hausted man sprang into the first boat he came to and attempted to shove off. Heavens! It _ was chained fast ! “THE STRUGGLING PAIR FELL TO THE EARTH TOGETHER.” Despairingly he pushed at another boat, but it was immovable. ‘The baying of the dogs was now very near, and as he listened a scream of exultation came to his ears. It was the “Weasel,” the dreaded leader of the ‘Snake- . hunters,” who, with the hounds in leash, came crashing through the underbrush. There was but one way to escape men and dogs— to swim for it. There was no sign of the pro- mised relief boat, and so Harring- ton plunged into the wild waters in a hopeless attempt to tattle with the waves for several miles. He struck out boldly, despite his weakened condition. In a few short moments, look- ing back over his shoulder, he could see lights dancing on the shore, and knew the poachers would follow him in their boats. Capture or a watery grave seemed not far away. As he swam on, buffeted this way and that by the waters, a skiff glided out of the darkness. Ipvoluntarily he shouted feebly ; then his heart sank, for in the craft one person only was seated. The “Snakehunters” must have headed him off, for it could not be the revenue boat. “T wouldn't hev found yer if yer hadn’t hollered. Climb in here—quick!” cried a voice above the wash of the waters; and as he clambered laboriously into the craft he knew the rescuer was Mag, the “ Weasel’s ” daughter. “Oh, Jack, why did yer do it?” she cried, piteously ; “don’t yer know they'll durn yer?” Harrington shuddered.

Page 289

280 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “But we'll beat the old man yit,” added the girl, in- consistently, as she looked back fearfully towards the lights on the island. “I don’t care if they smash th’ banks, but I don’t want ter see yer hurt.” With that she bent to the oars. It was the first intimation Har- rington had of the proposed destruc- tion of Lakeview, and the news, if possible, added to the horror of his situation. His comrades and several hundred villagers were doomed to destruc- tion if the em- bankment were broken, and the time lost was price- less. | Behind him across the waters could be heard the steady “click, click” of double rowlocks, which told of desperate pursuit, even if the hoarse shouts of the poachers were not sufficient. “Don’t make the Bulkhead; we must get to Lakeview,” gasped Harrington, as yet too exhausted to relieve his companion at her vain task. Nearer and nearer came the ominous sounds, and presently, in the dawning light of morn, a long boat could be seen dancing swiftly over the waters in pursuit. The storm, with the break of day, was subsiding. Soon, ahead, another boat was seen by the man and girl. In it were seated two wardens. They had been vainly watching for Harrington, and now one of the officers signalled encouragingly. The boats neared one another, and a line was cast to Harrington, who quickly made it fast to Mag’s skiff. ‘Then the two men and the girl pulled frantically at their oars, making some- what better headway, although the boat contain- ing the poachers still gained steadily. Ere long the outlaws fired, and the bullet whizzed dangerously near to the wardens and “HE CLAMBERED LABORIOUSLY INTO THE CRAFT.” the girl. A hoarse cry testified that the “ Weasel” had recognised his daughter, and he could be seen shaking his fist at the fugitives in impotent wrath. By this time the little village of Lakeview was not far away, but still the poachers gained. Shots flew con- tinually from the pursuing boat, and presently the arm of one of the wardens dropped useless to his side and an oar went floating away. The “Snakehunters,” yelling — triumph- antly, rowed closer yet, and there came to the pur- sued a shout from the “ Weasel.” “YI kill yer!” he bellowed. “T'll kill yer all when : I gits yer!” But now shallow water was reached, and the panting officers and the girl sprang from the boats and, wading swiftly to shore, scrambled up the embankment. With a rush the “ Snakehunters ” landed also, and now, in the one street of the little village, a tragedy was enacted. With a fierce imprecation the ‘ Weasel” pointed to the iron lever used to operate the flood-gate, and one poacher, rushing to it, tugged with all his power. But his strength alone was insufficient to move the mighty gate, and another sprang to his assistance. That gate held in check the hungry waves of the State reservoir. Once it was opened, the waters, with a roar and a rush, would inundate the village, drowning the inhabitants and flood- ing miles of farm-land beyond. Realizing the danger, one of the wardens fired at the men tugging at the gate lever, and they momentarily desisted in their efforts. Then out of the houses westward rushed a number of half-clad men. The “Snakehunters” were baffled, and they knew, it, .One last fruitless

Page 290

THE POACHER'S attempt by the men at the flood-gate and then they darted for shelter, for already shots were singing past the surly-looking little group of outlaws near the shore. Only the ‘ Weasel,” leader of the * Snakehunters,” stood boldly forth, disdainful of the leaden rain. Slowly he raised his rifle, taking’ deliberate DAUGHTER. 281 Mag was whispering, and he knelt to hear what she said. “JT didn’t want to see yer shot,” she breathed. “T knew what yer was from th’ first. I want——” ‘The sentence was never finished, for the poor creature fainted. Death seemed certain, for the ‘“ Weasel” was a sure shot. Crack ! went the weapon, but on the instant the girl sprang before the defenceless Game aim at the unarmed Harrington beyond. Warden. ‘The bullet entered her body, and with a moan she sank to the ground. With anguish in his eyes, and regardless of any danger, the young officer bent over the prostrate form. The girl had done much for him, and he could not bear to think that she had sacrificed her life for his sake. Vol. xviii.—36. With a snarl of disappointed rage the “Weasel,” after seeing the effect of his work, retreated to the landing, followed by the other outlaws, and the whole party made good their escape to ‘Turkeyfoot Islanc. Under the guidance of Harrington—after he had placed his unconscious rescuer in the hands of a doctor —the wardens soon gave chase, but found the poachers’ strongholds absolutely deserted ; the “ Snakehunters ” had quickly removed to Sassa- fras Point, ‘Vheir dens on ‘Turkeyfoot were destroyed, and~ never ain was the island

Page 291

282 THE WIDE THE SCENE OF THE FIGHT BETWEEN THE GAME WARDENS AND THE 'SNAKEHUNTE! occupied by the poachers. Ultimately a number were captured, but the “ Weasel” has successfully evaded arrest up to the present time, although he has been sought high and low on several occasions. for a time the outlaws were disheartened by the arrests, but during February and March, 1906, there came the news that the “Snake- hunters ” were again in possession of Lewistown Reservoir and boldly netting the fish, and in April a patrolman appointed by the State was arrested on a charge of working in collusion From a) & VIEW SHOWING SASSAFRAS FOINT, WORLD THE PRESENT HOME OF THE MAGAZINE. (Photo. with the poachers. Other tragedies are certain to occur and brave men suffer before the mysterious clan of “Snakehunters” are wiped out for ever. It will be many a long day, too, before Harrington forgets his experiences on Turkeyfoot Island, his midnight race for life, and the dog-like devotion of Mag, the poacher’s daughter, who, the reader will be glad to know, ultimately recovered from the dangerous wound inflicted upon her by her brutal father, and is now in good hands, bidding fair to develop into a respectable member of society. [Photo “SNAKEHUNTEKS SAIN THE DISTANCE. Digtizedby sOOQlE Cc

Page 292

THROUGH FRIESLAND ON SKATES. By A. PircalkN- KNOWLES. A seasonable article, illustrated with photographs by the Author, dealing with an unconventional tour through a veritable skaters’ paradise — the network of rivers and canals which intersect the interior of picturesque Friesland, which is not nearly so well known as it deserves to be. @OLIDAY-MAKERS are gradually beginning to realize that a trip to the Continent during the winter months need not necessarily be spent in the sunny south, and that health-giving pleasures may be enjoyed quite as fully in regions where “ Jack Frost” reigns as in those parts where a blazing sun sends forth its powerful rays from a cloudless sky. ‘Twenty years ago the idea of seeking enjoy- ment in a few weeks’ sojourn among the snow- clad hills and on the wind-swept ice-fields of the Continent’s coldest countries would have been treated with ridicule by most of those who to- day take their fill of pleasure from this source. Tempora mutantur 1 Yo-day frost and snow, once abhorred and looked upon as the dreaded accompaniments of winter's gloom and rigour, are welcome friends whom we travel countless miles to meet ; friends once misunderstood, but now honoured and admired, who cheer our hearts and fortify our minds and bodies, since we have learnt that only good can spring from such an acquaintanceship. — Little wonder, therefore, that all those in search of health and recreation are constantly on the look-out for new opportunities to avail themselves of winter’s manifold opportunities for sport. Among the countries able to boast of special charms there is one which, as a winter El] Dorado, stands in the front rank, although, for some inexplicable reason, it appears to have been sadly neglected, a fact all the more surprising when we consider that it is one of England's nearest neighbours — namely, Holland. ‘The attractions of Holland in summer are known and appreciated by countless thousands of English tourists; but how few and far between are the visits of Britishers to the land of cheeses and bulbs when winter is at its height, and when the country’s vast network of canals and waterways becomes transformed into an endless skating-ground, such as no other region in the world can offer. Not one of the Continent’s happy playgrounds is more accessible, and the means of travelling hither and thither leave nothing to be desired. You can dine to-night in London, and to- morrow morning after breakfast you may find yourself skimming along the frozen waterways of picturesque Holland, wondering all the while why on earth the happy thought of spending a holiday in this manner has not occurred to you before. Let us, with all the optimism of an enthu- siastic skater, suppose the climatic conditions to be so favourable that even the more southern districts of Holland are in the grip of the “Ice King,” and let us likewise suppose that we have been fortunate enough to make the time of our arrival coincide with this happy event. Under these auspicious conditions we can step out of the train at The Hague to strap on our skates and start from this point on our journey through the ice-bound country. Fifty miles of glistening ice-tracks must be traversed before Amsterdam is reached, the route leading past Leyden and Haarlem. To the keen skater who knows but the pleasures of a crowded miniature skating- rink the feeling of being able to push forward unimpeded at full speed, mile after mile, without knowing when and where the day’s trip is to end, is indeed an experience to revel in. From another point of view, however, my own hopes were at first not realized. The Holland that I had had in my mind’s eye was so very different from the real thing—so much more interesting and picturesque—that the almost depressing monotony and _ lifelessness which met my eye here quickly shattered the ideal scenes of my imagination. But this feeling of disappointment was soon dispelled when we left the modern and = matter-of-fact part of Holland behind to penetrate into the heart of countiified Friesland, the true paradise of the skater. A train journey of three and a half hours’ duration separated us from Leeuwarden, Fries- land’s quaint capital, where excellent skating can be enjoyed. Nevertheless, after a perusal of the local papers, we decided to make the smaller town, or rather village, of Heerenveen, not many miles distant from the capital, our centre, partly attracted thither by the prospects of witnessing a large race-mecting, partly because its surround: ings were said to be of a specially interesting character. Nor had we reason to regret this step, for we were afforded ample opportunity of seeing the truly typical skating scenes of which we had heard so much, scenes which for quaintness and picturesqueness cannot easily be surpassed in Northern Europe; and which teach ong much

Page 293

284 THE WIDE about the old-world habits and customs of a people little influenced by the ceaseless revolu- tionizing reforms of cur quick-living age. Here in the north, where you see the serious side of skating, man, woman, and child seem to spend most of their time thus occupied. No sooner has the toddling infant fathomed the mysteries of walking than it is initiated into those of skating, and tottering old men, maybe with limbs too frail for use on ferra firma, will show themselves still quite capable of rapid movement on the slippery ice. When the latter bears, the country, although anything but densely populated, becomes alive with people on skates, to whom this means of progression appeals more strongly than any other, whereof the empty trains and the deserted roads furnish the most convincing proof. One is hardly surprised, therefore, to find every single town or village in these parts so situated that one of the countless water “ highways ” leads to it, the communication in summer being kept up with the aid of boats. It was from Heerenveen that we set out one sunny morning to catch the first glimpse of a real Frisian winter. We purposely made no programme in regard to the length and direction of our day’s trip, but thought it expedient to keep within convenient distance of a railway line, this being our first experience of Dutch skates, which differ considerably from the kind we had been accustomed to. A visit to the leading village shops with a view to filling our _— From a) LFAVING A TYPICAL DUTCH VILLAGE—THE ILLUSTRATION SHOWS THE SLEDGE WORLD MAGAZINE. knapsacks with the necessary provisions was our first. step, whereupon the equally important question as to which would be the most con- venient method of conveying our bulky half-plate cameras over the ice had to be settled. After much gesticulating and shaking of heads on either side, we and several dozen amiable villagers, attracted by the “ Engelsman’s ” knickerbockers and strange tongue, and evidently much concerned about our welfare, unanimously agreed that the lightest sledge we could get the loan of would suit our purposes best. For the modest sum of half a guilder, equalling tenpence, per day, the kindly “ vrouw ” of the village smith to whom we had been directed supplied our wants ; and a few minutes later, with numberless warnings against the dangers besetting the path of the skater un- acquainted with these parts still ringing in our ears, our little party of three had taken its departure from the good villagers of Heerenveen. It must not be imagined that under favour- able conditions—that is to say, after an uninter- rupted spell of frost—there are serious dangers to be feared, but at the time of our expedition, owing to a sudden thaw, followed by an equally sudden return of the cold, some of the canals were considered decidedly risky, and on several occasions the well-meant words of warning, little heeded by us at first, proved themselves to have been entirely justified. As we skated on and on, with the long stretch [Photo. seugte™ 1

Page 294

THROUGH FRIESLAND ON SKATES. THE BUTCHER SKIMMING ALONG THE From a Photo, of ice before us reaching to the horizon, and amid the charming scenery sparkling with myriads of particles of frozen dew and clad in its becoming white gar- ment of snow, of which so far there was but a sprinkling, we could not help envying the fortunate Frieslander to whom year after year winter presents itself in all its glory. We felt as if we had been carried into some beauti- ful fairyland, where winter has only a bright side. Little wonder that every- one feels gay and light- hearted in this beauteous world of ice, and revels in it as long as it lasts. Those fortunate ones who are not tied down by the inexorable demands of business or otherwise give themselves up en- tirely to the joys of the ice, and even the less in- dependent manage to combine business with EN CANAL ON HIS BICYCLE, EN THE MILKMAN TRAVELS FKOM VILLAGE TO 285 pleasure. The butcher, in his smart white jacket, forsukes the roads to skim along the frozen water-paths on his bicycle; the milkman speeds from village to village on skates, pushing a heavy load of cans on his swift sledge ; the peasant finds it less expensive and more agreeable to convey his baskets of vegetables and eggs over the ice ; and school- children hurry to and from their lessons on skates, enjoying the healthy and invigorating exercise. And what quaint sights are to be encountered among these people! What should we feel like, I wonder, if we were made to dispense with boots and shoes and to strap our skates to our fect, deprived of the habitual leather covering ? The rural Frieslander, however, looks upon leather boots as an expensive luxury, to be indulged in only on special occasions ; and as his clumsy wooden sabots do not constitute satisfactory and practical footyear for skating purposes, he casts them off while enjoying his favourite pastime and carries them under his arms, replacing them by an extra pair of socks. ‘That these bootless skaters should be able to attain efficiency in skating is nothing short of marvellous in the eyes of the average Briton, used to having a couple of stout leather soles under his feet. When I first saw the sturdy Frieslanders gliding past with their wooden shoes tucked From a Dib

Page 295

286 THE away under their arms I felt as if they deserved to be heartily pitied for their back- wardness. I must admit, however, that this feeling, of sympathy soon became transformed into admiration when I was given an opportunity of seeing these people perform feats which could certainly not have been improved upon with the assistance of the most capable boot- maker in the world. We were present at some races, and there, to our surprise, the competitors, both men and women, assembled at the start with an additional pair of stockings in place of their boots and sabots. Before we had recovered from our surprise the first skaters had dashed past us and were approaching the finish, exhibiting as clean and graceful a style as is possible over a short track of one hundred and sixty metres ; and when the stop-watch announced times as favourable as sixteen and one-fifth, sixteen and two-fifths, and sixteen and_ three- fifths seconds, my amazement reached a climax. On this occasion we were given numerous other opportunities of seeing the Frisian people in their element. It was one of Friesland’s unique ice-carnivals we had the good fortune to be present at, and a festival well worth seeing in many respects, lacking neither originality nor variety. Races for old men, among whom several had passed their seventieth year; costume races, races for professionals, races for children—in short, races for all sorts and conditions of men—provided fun for the thousands of peasants and villagers assembled at the “Groote Hardrijderij.” Nor was the fair sex forgotten, for not only From a) TUE AUTHOR PHOTOGRALHING ON THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. were the sweet seventeens and tiny mites of ten and even less endeavouring to outpace each other and beat the records of previous genera- tions, but even their sporting mothers, clad in quaint racing attire, met to compete in friendly rivalry, and to show that a Frisian woman feels younger than.she is. Such competitions— mostly for handsome prizes—are held all over the country when “ Thialf,” Friesland’s revered ice-god, is favourably disposed towards his worshippers. Indeed, every village has its own race-track, and everywhere the annual ice-sports form the chief topic of conversation for weeks before and after the great event. But to return to our trip along the pictur- esque canals. We left the race-course which had afforded us so many novel sights behind us, and again entered the open country. The parting rays of the setting sun reminded us that it was time to bring the day’s journey to an end, and we resolved to hasten without delay towards the next cluster of houses, in the hope of catching a train which would take us back to our hotel. But it was not to be; the interesting sight of a fisherman hauling in his catch from underneath the ice was the cause of our missing the opportunity, and there was nothing to be done but return to Heerenveen on skates. A glorious moon shone upon the sparkling ice and tempted us away from the comfortable arm-chairs of a cosy little inn, where we satisfied our ravenous appetites with bread and cheese and quenched our thirst with coffee, enjoying our frugal meal as much as any hungry skater had ever relished a Frisian repast. Tired as we were, we had little cause to regret our decision to retrace our steps ; indeed, the recollection of this beautiful moonlight night in Friesland’s wintry fa land was one of the happiest we brought home, but for one little contretemps, which fortunately ended — without causing hurt. Whilst’ spin- ning along merrily, keeping as much as possible to the middle of the broad canal, where the most tempting black ice enabled us to pass on more quickly than along- side the banks — where the surface was far from good— a sudden report, like that of a pistol, startled us, and before we could realize what it meant the sledge, at the Whoto. time _ committed to my Digitized by SAOO QTC

Page 296

THROUGH FRIESLAND ON SKATES. 287 A FISHERMAN HAULING IN HIS CATCH FROM UNDER From a Photo, charge, was slipping away from iny hands through a hole in the ice. The warnings of our friends in Heeren- veen flashed across my mind, and, instinctively pulling back with all my strength, I swung the sledge up into the air and round on to the unbroken ice, thus managing in the nick of time to escape what might have termi- nated in something more serious than a mere duck- ing. We had no means of finding out the cause of the weakness in the ice at this particular spot, but, whatever it might have been, we had been taught a lesson in regard to skating at night, and for the rest of our noc- turnal trip we thought it wise to reduce the speed and not to forsake the rougher but safer ice near the shore. — It was close upon ten when we reached our comfort- able quarters at the hotel in Heerenveen, and brought the day to a most satisfactory termination with a very: enjoyable supper. The following day we set forth on an entirely different route, passing through a more populated district, and making for the romantic woods of the ‘‘ Oranje- wald,” one of Friesland’s loveliest beauty spots. Visiting numerous tiny villages, we had again ample opportunity of studying these quaint people and_ their habits, whilst they gazed upon our trio with as much curiosity as we evinced for all the novel sights that caught our cye. Wherever we showed ourselyes we were taken in from top to toe and criticised in the good-natured manner so character- istic of the Frieslander, and the farther we penetrated into the country the more we became the centre of attraction. Buffalo Bill and his Indians could scarcely have caused a greater stir in some places, and when, on one occasion, we arrived at a densely crowded race- track while the competition was in full swing, the entire throng of spectators and competitors deserted the races to gaze in wonderment at the three extra- ordinary foreigners who had _ travelled across the sea to indulge in a skate on their canals. All our move- ments were watched — with

Page 297

288 THE WIDE WORLD From a) ON THE WAY 10 ONE UF intense interest, and every word of the un- intelligible language we uttered caused our flabbergasted admirers to press closer. Unable to account for this unexpected manifesta- tion of curiosity, we began to give vent to our feelings of disapproval, when suddenly an English - speaking native pushed through the crowd and apologetically explained that this intense excitement had been produced by the fact that no Englishman had ever, during the lifetime of any- one present, set foot in this part of Friesland. It was a relief for us to hear that we had been so inno- cent a cause of all this commo tion, and, with the assistance of our Frisian in- terpreter, we informed his compatriots that the performance was at an end, and that now we would like to play the looker- on while they ran their races, a request that Frou ay FIIESLANUS LEAUTY SPOTS SNAMSHOTTING UNDER Dif FICULTIES—EVERVWHERE CURIOSEPY CONCERNING THE STRANGE KS MAGAZINE. was cheerfully granted. — After enjoying some amusing sport we pushed on to the peaceful “Oranjewald,” where a much- appreciated pic- nic on the ice fortified us for the return jour- ney. Varying our daily programme as much as possible Ly making for new points of in- terest and avoiding going over the same ground more than once, we continued to enjoy Friesland and all its charms as long as “ Jack Frost” permitted us. ‘Towards the end of our expedition new experiences were met with. One morning we found the country covered with a foot of snow, which we sorrowlully anticipated would put an end to our expedition, Great and pleasant, therefore, was our surprise when, on reaching the canal, we found a path of carefully-swept ice THE STOLID FIYESLANDERS SHOWED THE GREATEST (Photo,

Page 298

THROUGH FRIESLAND ON SKATES. 289 From a\ AN ENJOYABLE PICNIC ON THE ICE. stretching away to the sky-line, and an army of men busily engaged in keeping it cleared of snow. ‘Thanks to the efforts of numerous clubs and of the municipal authorities, the quick removal of the falling snow by sweepers specially engaged for this purpose enables the traffic on the canals to continue without a moment’s interruption. With grateful appreciation the passer-by MORE RUSTIC CURIOSITY—EVERYTHING THE ENG! From al A Vol. xviii. —37. 1 STRANGERS DID EXCITED THE ¢ ND INTEREST. (Photo. rewards the exertions of these sweepers— anxious to be of use to the skater at all times, and looking after the ice in general—by doling out cents here and there, thereby ensuring for himself pleasures and conveniences without which the Frisian canals would be bereft of a goodly portion of their charms. The practical Frisian, who leaves no stone unturned to meet the skater’s requirements, naturally also thinks EATEST WONDE Whore.

Page 299

290 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a) of the inner man. In the towns and villages, and frequently at important crossing-points, the owners of refreshment tents, erected on the ice, do a brisk trade in the sale of hot drinks and eatables, and as the cold increases the steaming kettle of hot spiced milk, evidently a favourite drink, becomes more and more the point of attraction. For a good skater, able and willing to reduce his kit toa minimum weight transportable in a knapsack, the best way to go about would be to first decide upon the route to be followed, with the aid of a good map of Friesland, and then to carry out the plan of proceedings sketched out, changing it merely when circumstances make it necessary. If he be ambitious he may be tempted to test his skating abilities in trying to accomplish the feat of visiting in one day the eleven citics of Friesland, a distance of about a hundred and twenty miles. It has been done in less than thirteen hours, but sixteen to seven- teen hours is considered a fairly good average. Three Englishmen—Messrs. C. G. Tebbutt, L. ‘Tebbutt, and B. B. ‘Tarring-—can boast of having done the round of the eleven cities in fourteen hours, Leaving Leeuwarden at four in the morning they skated to Dokkum; from there back to Sneek, Iylst, and, crossing the HOISTING THE SLEDGE OVER AN UNEXPECTED ORSTACLE, (Photo. lakes, to Sloten. Taking Stavoren on the way they reached Hendeloopen in time for lunch, and then continued on to Wokkum, Bolsward, and Harlingen, finishing up with Franeker on the return journey to Leeuwarden, where they arrived at seven in the evening. Whoever wishes to enter into competition with the great skaters who have attained fame over this feat of endurance must have a witness in each town, who signs his name to a paper showing that the skater has actually been at all the eleven places. A skating-trip in Holland need not present any difficulty to small purses, wherein lies another great attraction. The charges at the inns are, on the whole, exceedingly reasonable, especially in the smaller towns. Everywhere they are scrupulously clean, while food and attendance leave little to be desired. In Friesland our experiences in regard to hotels were particularly pleasant. The inhabitants of this part of Holland are a charming race— indeed, a more genial, sympathetic, and healthy- minded community could scarcely be met with than the quaint-mannered Frisians, whose ways most forcibly belie the inconsiderate and unjust words of Voltaire, who described Holland as having three characteristics—“ canaux, canards, canaille” (canals, ducks, and blackguards).

Page 300

A Speculation in Turkeys. By LEANDER KILPATRICK. A very unusual, amusing, and yet pathetic Christmas story. Attracted by the fabulous prices which food-stuffs were realizing in Dawson City during the winter of 1897, a speculator conceived the amazing idea of taking up some hundreds of live Christmas turkeys and driving them over the icesbound Chilkoot Pass to Dawson, where he hoped to realize a fortune. What happened to the ill-fated turkey-merchant and his flock is here graphically told. STRIKING and tragic illustration of the foolhardiness of man, showing to what extremes he will go in pursuit of the “almighty dollar,” was pre- sented to the view of myself and a party of fellow-Klondikers during the latter part of November, 1897, when we crossed the summit of the famed Chilkoot Pass on the last morning of our twenty-two days’ journey from Dawson City, Alaska, e route for the States and a Merry Christmas among the loved ones at home after a two years’ absence. As I was both a witness and an actor in the final act of the little tragedy, Ican vouch for the truthful- ness of the tale. At the period of which I speak the food supply of Alaska’s metropolis, Dawson City, had sunk to a very low ebb, and the prices of what in that little community of exiles were considered luxuries, such as eggs, butter, fresh meat, canned goods, and potatoes, soared steadily sky- ward. For example, canned eggs (that is, eggs covered with a thin coating of wax, perhaps six months previously) sold for three dollars fifty cents each; a potato, no matter how small, fetched a dollar, as did a pound of flour, and fresh meat commanded a premium of two dollars a pound. Naturally, at these prices, only the “well-heeled” miners could afford an egg for breakfast or a potato for dinner. Need- less to say, as there were many more “unheeled” than “heeled” among the inhabitants of this isolated little town, ‘beans and bacon” was the popular diet, morning, noon, and night. When the tidings reached the States of the THE AUTHOR, MR. LFANDER KILPATRICK, From a Phote. fabulous prices of all commodities in Dawson, speculation became rife in the Pacific Coast cities. Individuals and syndicates, with more money than good judgment, bought up vast quantities of merchandise of every description, and, rushing them to Seattle, embarked them on almost any kind of craft that promised to land them at Skagway or Dyea, the ports of entry for an overland journey to the Klondike. Many of these speculators were fortunate enough to catch the regular steamers trading between these points. This part of the five to eight- day journey proved com- paratively easy, and they and their stocks of merchandise were landed upon the rocky coast of Alaska right side up —only, however, to have their dreams of the golden harvest awaiting them in Dawson rudely shattered, as they gazed with awe at the towering, snow-clad peaks of the Chil- koot and White passes, from whose storm-swept summits among the clouds the bitter, biting blasts of winter swept down the valley, chilling the very marrow of their unsea- soned bones. Many of the more sensible men, after viewing the pro- spects, sold their stocks for what they would fetch, cut’ their losses, and returned to the States, sadder but wiser men. Some few of the more hardy and determined, however, pushed on and made the attempt to carry their goods by hired pack-trains of carriers across these almost impassable mountain barriers, paying as high as one dollar a pound for a transportation of twenty miles. A few succeeded in getting over the summits with, perhaps, ten’ per,cent, lof. their goods, only

Page 301

292 THE WIDE WORLD to find themselves utterly at a loss as to how to transport them over the remaining five hundred and sixty miles of ice and snow-bound trails intervening between them and the rich harvest awaiting them at Dawson City. Of the many who tried that winter's trail with stocks of sale- able goods not a single one reached his goal. It was an impossible task, even for experienced Yukoners, and Alaska’s snowy mantle quickly buried from view thousands upon thousands of dollars’ worth of valuable merchandise that in the golden dreams of the inexperienced specu- lators a month before meant a fortune already in their pockets. The foolish and frantically desperate effort of one man named Adam Foster, however, stood out supreme among the many senseless acts attempted by these seemingly crazy men. It was in San Francisco, during the month before Christmas, that this deluded = mortal — then sound in mind and body — conceived the splendid idea that if he could succeed in reach- MAGAZINE. the summit of the Chilkoot Pass, and thence over the five hundred and sixty miles to Dawson. Guarding his secret carefully, he set to work at once, buying up all the available supply of turkeys from the farmers of the surrounding country, paying fancy prices for many of them in his anxiety to be first in the field. In a very short time he had collected in his flock some four hundred plump, well-con- ditioned turkeys. After paying for these and the cost of transporting them from ’Frisco to Dyea, his capital was practically exhausted, but what he lacked in money he more than made up in spirit and unbounded faith in himself and his ability to carry his novel plan to a successful completion. When the steamer reached Dyea, the rough and uncouth inhabitants of the little frontier town stared open-mouthed with wonder as the puffing little donkey-engine upon the steamer’s deck hoisted into view from the depths of the "GEE! EXCLAIMED ONE MG, HULKISG ing the Klondike with a consignment of well- conditioned turkeys his fortune would be made. After the most careful inquiry wherever pos- sible as to the best mode of trave!ling in Alaska during the winter months, he hit upon, as he thought, the brilliant notion of taking the turkeys up alive and driving them across ALASKAN. WHAT KIND OF A GAME DO YER CALL THIS? hold and deposited upon the crude wharf cage after cage of stately gobblers and their trim and timid ma “Ge exclaimed one big, hulking Alaskan, viewing the frightened and half-frozen birds. “What kind of a game do yer call “is ?” Three days passedshowever, and amid the Digitized by SOO QTC be , oe

Page 302

A SPECULATION hustle and excitement of the impromptu town of a month's growth, where all were on the move and each attending to his own particular affairs, the “man with the turkeys” was almost forgotten. Bright and early on the morning of the fourth day he suddenly recalled himself to memory, however, by appearing in the rear of his great flock of turkeys, “shooing” the chilled, aston- ished, and frightened birds before him through the fine, dry, and brittle snow in the direction of the trail leading up the almost per- pendicular side of the Chilkoot Pass. In the chill atmosphere of Alaska, where the warmest — under- garments, sur- mounted by furs and moccasins, are an absolute necessity, he pre- sented a_ striking contrast to his fellow = townsmen. He had equipped himself for his six- hundred - mile journey, with the thermometer at the summit stand- ing twenty below zero, in a costume totally unfitted for the climate. His russet shoes, white “boiled” shirt and_ collar, short overcoat, and soft felt hat gave one the shivers to behold. On a sled, which he pulled behind him, lay his provisions for the journey—a_fifty-pound sack of grain for the turkeys’ feed and, for him- self, twenty-five pounds of flour, ten pounds of bacon, about the same of beans, and a small package of tea and coftce. At first glance the whole scene looked like a huge joke to the bewildered onlookers. “Say, pardner,” cried one befurred figure in a group as the procession of half-frozen turkeys and man passed in review, “what yer going to do—pick violets on top 0’ Chilkoot ?” But when they realized that the “ tenderfoot” “STIDL THE SHIVERING, MONEY-MAD MAN PUSHED ON.” IN TURKEYS. 293 was in dead earnest, he was quickly and seriously warned of the result of his foolish mission, The warning, however, fell upon unhecding ears ; the poor fellow had staked his all in his investment of turkeys, and with chattering teeth and shivering body he drove his fluttering flock of birds on towards the snow-bound sides of the summit, and so the kindly-disposed advisers fell back and watched with pitying eyes bis struggles to keep his delicate line of freight moving in the direction of the summit's base, a: mile away, while the icy blasts of winter, that swept down upon the flock of timid, innocent birds, depleted their numbers every minute. A gasp, a sudden droop of the head, and the poor, tender things gently settled down in the soft white bed of snow — frozen stiff. Stull the shiver- ing, money - mad man pushed on. A fierce — deter- mination to gain the top of that storm-swept sum- mit and thence move down into the valley beyond —-where, as he thought, the rosy lips of Dame For- tune would smile sweetly upon him —fired him with an insane and supernatural strength. With a small remnant of his flock he began the ascent. What were the workings of his mind and the torture to his body from the keen- biting wind, that cut like a knife to the very marrow of the poorly-clad, infatuated man, Heaven alone can tell. But still, in his lust for gain, he toiled painfully up the white, frozen trail. ‘The wondering watchers in the town saw the form of the “man with the turkeys” grow smaller and smaller, as he advanced slowly and painfully up theowinding, tortuous pass. An aaa Diaized by OO le -

Page 303

204 THE WIDE WORLD hour passed—two hours; he was now but a small speck, showing occasionally among the swirling snow-clouds. Suddenly the speck dis- appeared. ‘The spellbound crowd in the valley heaved a smothered sigh of pity and dispersed. MAGAZINE. coat, was the last of the turkeys—a sturdy gobbler, now, like its infatuated owner, cold in death ! The firm-set jaw of the marble-like features and the straining eyes of the man reflected the “STATUE*LIKE, THE UNFORTUD “The man with the turkeys” had reached the summit at last ! Two days later, the storm having abated, our party left Lake Linderman’s icy shores and came over the summit outward bound for home. On the very pinnacle of the pass we saw the tragic ending of the ill-starred ‘Christmas turkeys” enterprise. Statue-like, the unfortu- nate speculator stood in the trail, one foot for- ward—frozen stiff, in the very act of taking one step more in the direction of his golden horizon. Clasped in his arms, half covered by the flimsy ATE SPECULATOR STOOD IN THE TRAIL, ONE FOOT FORWARD—FROZEN STIFF.” frozen determination of the brain— success or death.” The latter’s icy hand had_ stretched forth and closed around the poor human atom, as if in anger at his presumption in daring, for greed of gold, to defy Alaska’s awful elements. Tenderly we placed the body of the man, still clasping the last of his flock, upon our sled and brought him back to the little town to be buried with the hopes he had left behind. And to this day, perhaps, there are people in Dyea who remember the “ man with the turkeys” and his ill-fated venture. Digitized by 3008 le

Page 304

STAWAYS. BY FREDERICK SEARS LATE OF THE NEW ZEALAND GOVERNMENT SURVEY. An interesting account of a nautical errand of mercy. Far out in the lonely Southern Ocean lie the desolate isles of the Antipodes—a deadly menace to ships. So terrible have been the experiences of sailors wrecked upon these islands that the New Zealand Government decided to form depots of provisions for the use of castaways. In this article Mr. Sears describes the voyage of the Government steamer, and how she rescued a party of shipwrecked men from one of the islands. g) AR away over the trackless ocean, that the New Zealand Government, under the on the verge of the Great Southern leadership of that grand old empire-builder, the Ice Belt, some seven hundred miles- late Prime Minister, Mr. R. J. Seddon, P.C., south of New Zealand, and swept have erected depots for castaways on each by the furies of perpetual blizzards, island. This humane step has already been lie the desolate Antipodes—Bounty, Auckland, the means of saving many lives. Enderby, and Campbell Islands, belonging to ‘The Government relief depéts are galvanized New Zealand, and the Macquaries, belonging to iron sheds about fifteen feet by twenty, and Tasmania. All these istands are totally uninha- contain tinned meat, biscuits, cocoa, tea, flour, bited, and manya fine vessel has laid her bones at the foot of their cruel crags, while the luckless souls who have escaped a watery grave have met a far more dreadful fate—a slow and miser- able death from starvation. Many records are still to be found on the islands, telling their own tales of shipwreck, despair, star- vation, and death. So dread- ful are some of A TYPICAL DEPOT FOR CASTAWAVS ON ANTIPODES ISLAND—THE HUFSyCONTAIN ROOD AND STORES, WITH A these records From aj HOAT AND CHART SHOWING THE COURSE TO NEW VFALAR by (Photo.

Page 305

296 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THE GOVERNMENT STEAMER “ HINEMOA,"” WHICH CARRIED OUT THE NAUTICAL FRRAND From a Drawing by) OF MERCY HERE DESCRIBED. matches, candles, lamps, kerosene, axes, fishing- tackle, blankets, clothing, cloth, needles, cotton, ete, together with a good, seaworthy, decked boat fitted with sails, oars, compass, and a chart giving the course to the Bluff Lighthouse, the nearest point of New Zealand. The photozraph on the preceding page shows a typical depot— that on Antipodes Island. The islands are visited once a year by the Government steamer //fnemoa —seen in the above photograph. She goes to search for castaways who may have been wrecked since her last visit, to repair any damages done to the depéts by the frequent storms, and to overhaul the stocks of provisions. This very wise undertaking, as already stated, has been the means of saving many lives. My official duties as an officer of the New Zealand Government Survey necessitated my accompanying the vessel to the islands, and this article is the result of my trip. Previous to the erection of the depots the Derry Castle was \ost on Enderby Island, and the ship’s log-slate still hangs in the depot there. I was able to secure a photo- graph, which speaks for itself. It will be seen that it is the half of a folding slate, tied together at the corners with pieces of sinnet, or rope yarn, ‘The wording has been cut on the slate —-probably with a sharp nail--and reads; “Sacred to the memory of captain, first and second officers, and twelve of the crew who lost their lives by wreck of the Derry Castle on the north side of Enderby Island, March 20th, 1887. The survivors were taken from the island by the schooner Awarana, July 2tst, 1887. Wm. Rennie, A.B. ; Dan Sullivan, A B.; Nick Wallace, A.B. ; Alex. Nyberg, A.B. ; Hugh Logan, A.B. ; James McGhie, pas- senger. Names of the lost : James Goffe, captain ; I. F. Robins, first officer; Rassmussen, second officer; C. Reynolds, C. Williams, P. Olsen, Johnson, Peterson, Karlson, Gill, Reid; four names not known. Total, fifteen.” The wording on the graves shown on the next page is very much weather-worn, but the slab to the right of the picture contains «the following: ‘Sacred to the memory of C. H. Mahony, master mariner, and the second officer of the ship Jzverauid, wrecked on this island 15th May, 1864. Died of starvation.” he small grave to the left is that of the captain's little daughter, and the centre of the tablet is formed by the ship’s grindstone. ‘The lettering on this and on the head-boards of the middle grave is too much obliterated to be legible on a photographic plate, but the terrible words, “Died of Starvation,” are on each. Of all the islands the most desolate are the [the Author, «a AB. ; Fernace, A.B. ; John Husband ™ OE a a eae Asi meat ole aed Pee oie sis ngizesoySOOQle er

Page 306

SEARCHING FOR CASTAWAYS. 297 soa ae i ae : aa THE CASTAWAYS’ GRAVEYARD AT ENDERBY ISLAND—SEVERAL OF TIE HEAD-BOARDS BEAR THE TERRIGLE WORDS “ DIED OF STARVATION." From a) Bounties, lying in 48deg. S., 179deg. W. Not a vestige of vegetation or blade of grass is to be found from one end of these barren penguin rookeries to the other, so that, but for the Government depéts, the lot of any unfor- tunates wrecked upon them would be hapless indeed. We arrived at the Bounties after a stormy passage, but could not make a landing owing to the heavy surf beating on the iron-bound coast. It was just about the breeding season for the penguins, but there was no sign of one to be seen or heard. Being unable to land, we put to sea to dodge about till calmer weather came. Two days later we made the islands again. The penguins had arrived, and the rocks were literally swarming with them. Whence had they come, and where had they got into such fine, fat condition ? Had they come from some unknown lands beyond the Great Ice Belt? Nature holds the secret. But as suddenly as they came, so, when the breeding season is over, ina day they have all gone—whither no man knows. ‘The next photograph shows a typical view in these inhospitable islands, with the penguins among the rocks. The Macquarie Islands, which are Tasmanian territory, lie in 58deg. S., 161deg. W.—roughly, seven hundred miles south of New Zealand. On arriving at the remote group we had the satisfaction of rescuing the shipwrecked crew of the schooner Gratitude, of New Zealand. (Photo, From a) Vol. sviii.-- 38. A VIEW OF ONE OF THE DFSOLATE KOUNTIES, SHOWING THE [Photo. ENGUINSTAMONG THE TKOCKS,

Page 307

2098 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. SCHOONER ON THE ISLAND ABOUT GRATITUDE” FKOM THE MACQUAKIE IS} ANDS—THE POOR EVEN MONTHS, AND COULD SCARCELY SPEAK FOR JOY WHEN TAKEN OFF. From a Photo. During a succession of adverse gales the Gratitude was carried down to the Macquarie Islands and stranded on its inhospitable shore, where she now lies. It was indeed a lucky thing for the crew of six men that the vessel did not go ashore about two hundred yards farther south— on the three pinnacles of rocks known as the . “Needles ’—as there would in all likelihood have been no one left to tell the tale; and should they by any chance have scrambled ashore there, they would certainly have died of starvation long before our arrival, as there were no store depots on the Macquarie Islands at that time. The poor fellows had been on the island about seven months, and I shall never forget their wild excite- ment as our whale- Uf boat neared the shore and they realized that after the weary months of heart-breaking anxicty and sus- pense their dreary imprisonment was. at last at an end. From a\ THE “ HINEMOA” HOMEWARD BOUND. I was the first to speak to them, but for some time they could not find their tongues, they were so overjoyed. I made an inspection of the mouldy, decayed provisions saved from the wreck —on which they had been eking out existence—and also the huts they had built with timbers from their ship, and I shuddered to think what their fate would have been if we had not visited the islands. ‘The loneliness of this inaccessible group has a depressing effect upon one, and I was as thankful as the castaways were to see the Macquaries sink below the horizon and feel our gallant little ship riding over the mountainous waves with a hurricane roaring behind us. After three months’ tossing about on our errand of mercy we were homeward bound again, having had the good fortune to rescue some of our fellow-creatures from starvation and a_ lingering death on the lonely isles — of the Southern Ocean. [Photo. Digitized Google e

Page 308

In the land of the Top py CHARLES MAVER AND SET Down py Grorcre H. Bau. For several years the narrator held a roving commission as a ‘“freak-hunter” for the late P. T. Barnum, the world’s greatest showman. In the course of his wanderings Mr. Mayer penetrated to the remote head-waters of the mighty Amazon in search of a mysterious race known as the ‘ Long-Lips.” In the accompanying story he tells how he discovered this strange tribe, and how he and his companions fared at their hands. OR a period of eight years I was in the service of the late Phineas T. Barnum, holding a roving commis- sion to secure for him for show purposes members of peculiar and little-known races in any part of the world. In this connection I found myself at Bahia, in Brazil, preparing to journey to the upper reaches of the Amazon River in order to interview an extraordinary tribe, with a view to securing two or three of them for exhibition, ‘The members of this remarkable race possess an enormous pendulous under-lip, hanging down in many cases fully six inches, and giving them a most hideous appearance. As none of these natives have ever been brought to a civilized country, though their existence is known to many ethno- logists, the reader will realize what a valuable attraction they would be to any place of entertainment. Consequently, the question of expense was a mere detail if there was any prospect of my mission terminating successfully. Great difficulties confronted me at every turn. When I approached the Brazilian Government 1 was informed that they would not allow any of the “ Long-Lips ” to leave the country upon any pretext, and, in fact, would not allow any person within one hundred miles of their village, far up the Amazon River. In spite of this official obstruction, however, T hunted about Bahia for more than a week for a boat to take me up the river, and at last made a bargain with a certain Captain Roberio, owner of a small but fast schooner of about fifteen tons. I also secured the services of a half-caste Portuguese named Antonio, to act as guide and interpreter. I had to inform the'captain and Antonio of the nature of my enterprise —its risks and the necessity for secrecy—and that the journey might possibly take four or six months. Before the captain consented to accompany me I was compelled to promise him every facility for trading with the various tribes we should meet on our way up the Amazon River. After the necessary arrangements had been made the schooner was victualled for six months, and such necessaries as rifles, revolvers, and ammunition, together with a large stock of presents for the natives, were placed on board. We also shipped-three extra half-caste natives to

Page 309

300 THE act as crew, and with old) Pedto—who acted as mate, cook, and steward --and the captain, Antonio, and myself, we totalled seven all told. We left Bahia late one night and. sailed up the coast bound for the mouth of the Amazon, only stopping to call at Para to receive and send off our mail. Ttis unnecessary for me to give any description of the wonderful Amazon River, as this has often been done by other writers. Suffice it to say that, having arrived in the great stream, we kept sailing due west, passing the Our first great difficulty lay in getting past the last Government fort, or stockade, unseen. Had we been observed we should have been instantly turned back, and our object thereby effectually frustrated. Howeve we were favoured by a succession of dark nights, and for three days we sailed during the night-time only, lying-to during the day with sails furled. We also placed huge branches on the sides and deck of the schooner in order to hide her as much as possible from prying eyes. By keep- ing up these tactics we succeeded in avoiding detection, and were svon out of the danger-zone. Forty days after leaving Para we arrived ata place called Olivenca, not very far from the Peruvian fronticr, ‘The captain had during this time done a considerable amount of trading with the riverside native ‘Turning south and sailing down a tributary for about twelve hours, we came to a large village called Goyaz. Both the captain and Antonio had been as far as this place before, and were not strangers to the chief, whose name was Yangsill—an intelligent and quick-witted native who had been to the coast two or three times for trading purposes. 1 went ashore with the captain and Antonio to interview him = and gather any information and help available, Antonio acting as interpreter. After a long talk we induced the chief, for a substantial reward, to accompany us to the village of the long- lipped tribe. ‘To have attempted the remainder of the journey without the help of this man and some of his people would not only have been dangerous, but foolhardy, as they both spoke and understood the dialect used by the “ Long- Lips,” and knew, moreover, just how far we could proceed with the schooner. The natives informed us that the long-lipped people were both warlike, treacherous, and crucl. ‘Their protruding under-lip made them frightfully ugly, the chief said; with it they could cover nearly the whole of their face They practically lived in’ trees, and ate all manner of animals as food. Occasionally they would swoop down and loot the surrounding WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. villages, and [believe Yangsill would have been only too pleascd to attack them if 1 had not impressed on him the fact that my expedition was to be a peaceful one, and not a raid. We remained at Goyaz tor four days, setuing sail on the fitth, being accompanied by four large canoes, each containing six natives, besides Yangsill and ten estra men who came on board the schooner. After three days’ sailing down the river we arrived within twelve hours’ journey of the settlement of the “ Long: Lips.” Yangsill advised us not to proceed farther in’ the schvoner, and we accordingly dropped anchor. Messengers bad already been sent on ahead to give notice of our approach. We decided to traverse the remainder of the jeurney in small boats, and started carly next morni There were three boats ; Yangsill, Antonio, and myself, with eight natives, were in one; Captain Roberio and ten natives in the second, and another ten men in the third. ‘The rest of the natives were told to remain behind with old Pedro, who was to clean up the schooner and be ready for our return by evening. ‘The captain, Antonio, and myself had armed ourselves with repeating rifles and revolvers, in case the natives should not prove so friendly as we desired; we also donned elaborate uniforms which we had brought with us, with the object of impressing the ‘ Long- Lips” as to our importance. We had not proceeded for more than two hours when, coming in our direction, we noticed six war-canoes, with about ten savages in each. On seeing these Yanysill ordered his men to stop paddling, and standing up, with arms up- raised and the palms of his hands facing the approaching party, he shouted something in their own language, whereupon they also ceased paddling. We were at this time nearly three hundred yards from cach other, too far for me to obtain a good view of the new-comers’ faces, but with constant shouting between Yangsill and their chicf we slowly approached until we were within speaking distance of each other, when we all stopped. During my many years’ experience in various parts of the world I have seen many strange things, but To must) conf that the sight I now beheld startled me. Never before had I seen a tribe of people so repulsive, dirty, and apelike in appeatance; they filled me with disgust and loathing. Standing up in the first boat was the chief; he was over six feet in height, and had an immense head, covered with coarse, matted hair, whilst his great under-lip hung down nearly six inches. He shouted and threw his arms about like a man_ possessed, whilst the other savages in the boats grunted

Page 310

IN THE LAND OF THE and smacked their pendulous lips against their faces in a way horrible to see and hear. The conversation between the two chiefs con- tinued for about ten minutes; then Yangsill informed me that all seemed well, but that we were to be sure and keep together in case of treachery. The long-lipped chief had requested that we should follow him back to the settle- ment and parley there. Yangsill had menda- “YHE CONVERSATION BETWEEN THE TWO CHIEFS CONTINUED FOX ABOUT TEN MINUTES.” ciously informed the chief that I had been sent by a powerful emperor, whose son I was, and that he had heard of the greatness of the chief and his tribe, and had sent me to see him, and to bring presents for his wives. We then followed the first boat, with another on each side as an escort, back to their settlement. During this time I had an opportunity of more closely observing these remarkable creatures. ‘They were tall, strong, and well- built men, and each carried a long lance, a bow and arrows, and a long blow-pipe, with a pouch of skin for the darts. I learned later that these were poisoned, and a wound from them generally proved fatal. We paddled very fast, and in less than two hours arrived at the main village, where we landed. Prepared as I was, after seeing the men, I could not réfrain from shuddering at sight of the women. They were even more repulsive in their appearance than the warriors, “ LONG- LIPS.” 301 and resembled wild beasts more than human beings. ‘Their long, woolly hair hung unkempt, their eyes were beady, and their lower lip hung down many inches, showing their gleaming teeth and gums. ‘The children had their lower lip cut and a piece of wood inserted between it and the teeth in order to force the former out as much as possible. We were by this time the centre of an admiring and curious crowd of men, women, and children, the men and women continually smacking their lower lip against their faces— apparently as a sign of delight. With much chattering we were escorted to a large tree, under which stood the chief, with about a hundred and fifty natives grouped behind him in a half-circle. The attire of these savages, if I may be permitted the phrase, consisted only of a strip of animal skin and their weapons. The conversation that ensued was naturally tedious, as I had to speak to Antonio, he to Yangsill, and Yangsill to the chief. The natives were obviously much impressed with the uniforms that we had donned, and with our rifles and revolvers. My object was to quietly induce about three of the natives to accompany me back to civiliza- tion. I thought I could accomplish this if I promised that they should be treated well and safely returned to their own country after a year or so’s absence. We were givenybread and jfruit and invited to

Page 311

302 : THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. stay the night with the savages, but we had no intention of doing this, as it was quite possible the natives would prove treacherous, in spite of their seeming friendliness. It was now getting late in the afternoon, and we accordingly decided to start back for the schooner at once, although the chief pressed us to stay and witness his men perform a war-dance. Through Antonio and Yangsill I informed him this was impossible that day, but I invited him to come to the schooner with some of his people the next day, when I would receive him and give him the presents sent by the great emperor. I suggested that he and his people should camp a short distance from the schooner, and I could then watch his men dance. Captain Roberio did ‘not forget his part of the bargain, and told Yangsill to inform the chief that if he had any rubber we should be very pleased to accept it. We were then escorted to our boats, and the chief, with four canoes, accompanied us half- way back to the schooner as a sort of guard of honour. In order to give the savages a sur- prise, the captain, Antonio, and I fired our rifles in the air in quick succession as we pushed off. ‘The effect was electrical. ‘The women and children on shore stood staring helplessly, too terrified to move, while the chief and his men stopped paddling in affright, so that we had secured a lead of about two lundred and fifty “WE WERE FSCORTED TO A LARGE TREE, UNDER WHICH STOOD THE CuILE.” yards before they re- covered from their sur- prise and started after us again. After an hour's paddling they, decided to return, and we stupped to bid them good-bye. In order to accomplish my object I suggested that three of the minor chiefs should there and then accompany me back to the schooner, and remain until the chief himself visited us the next day. I thought that pos- sibly the chief would not consent to this proposal, but rather to my surprise he soon agreed, and three of the most important natives were selected to accompany me back to the schooner. Pushing on rapidly, we soon aitived at the vessel. After our three guests had been given some supper, I spoke to them, through Antonio and Yangsill, and suggested that they should accompany me back to civilization, It did not take long to persuade them to consent; they held a short consulta- tion between themselves, and then agreed to my proposal. I did not attach much importance to their curious eagerness at the time, thinking that perhaps they had some special reason for not being averse to leaving their tribe. By daybreak all hands commenced cleaning and dressing the schooner with flags, and we were soon ready to receive our unconventional visitors. We had a clear view down the river for a considerable distance, and could see the “ Long-Lips’” canoes an hour before they got within hailing distance. ‘here were ten large boats filled with natives, and they came rapidly nearer until within half a mile, when Captain Rol-rio fired the two small cannons. ‘The report had barely died away when the chief stood up in the first boat with arms raised and the palms of his hands extended in our direction. I gave orders to allow only the chief and about fifteen or twenty of the minor chiefs on board, and I then took my seat ready to receive them. Yangzsill explained my instructions to the chief, saying that the rest of “the natives were to remain in the boats. The schooner, with its gay bunting, proved

Page 312

IN THE LAND OF a revelation to them, and they could do nothing but stare and utter exclamations of delight, pointing here, there, and everywhere. The chief showed as much delight as his men, and alto- gether the effect was all that could be desired. He followed Yangsill on to the deck, and aft under the awning to where I was seated, staring about him continually, and expressing his delight at what he saw by grunting and smacking his under-lip against his face, his repulsive-looking followers doing the same. After we had all taken our places the chief was told to squat down on deck with his men behind him. I then informed him, through the interpreters, how pleased I was to receive him on board the schooner, and handed him some of the presents I have already mentioned, which he received with childish delight and admira- tion, ‘The looking-glasses were a marvel to him and his people; they could not understand seeing themselves, and went : through all the antics of monkeys in connection with the reflection. The chief then went to the side of the schooner and spoke to some of the mén in the boats, who thereupon came on deck carrying a bundle, which they set down by their chief. Opening the package, the chief presented me with a handsome puma- skin, twelve monkey - skins, and some beautiful feathers, besides about three hundred- weight of guttapercha, which some of his men carried up the ladder. On seeing this Captain Roberio’s eyes glis- tened, and he rubbed his hands in delight. The savages stayed for over three hours, inspecting every- thing about the schooner, and promised to return in a day or two and camp on the oppo- site shore to that on which the schooner was moored, in order that I could see their native dances. With this they left us, taking with them the three men who had stayed with us overnight. I now believed that we had established thoroughly friendly relations with the “ Long-Lips,” and we therefore had nothing to do but wait until they came again, which they did three “THE LOOKING-GI ASSES. THE “LONG-LIPS.” 303 days later, accompanied by about seventy-five men, women, and children. Selecting an open- ing on the opposite shore as near the schooner as possible, they pitched their camp. In case of treachery, we had warned the chief not to allow his people to come near the schooner at night, unless he had been invited by us to come on board, and he was careful to observe this caution, We visited their camp and watched them go through their native dances, and they in turn again visited us on board the schooner. We kept these proceedings up for about a week, during which time the astute Captain Roberio obtained about seven hundredweight of gutta- percha. He, as well as I, was now anxious to bring our enterprise to an end. During the last day or two the three minor chiefs already mentioned had slept on board the schooner again, and as they seemed willing WERE A, MAQVEL 77 aT AA POHIS PEOPLE.”

Page 313

304 THE WIDE and eager to accompany us, and Captain Roberio was quite satisfied with bis supply of rubber, there was no reason why we should not turn our beads toward the mouth of the river again. We therefore selected one dark night during which there was no moon. Yangsill’s men, in their four boats, were ordered to tow the schooner down the river as fast and with as little noise as possible, in case the “ Long- Lips” attempted any treachery upon seeing us leave. We had an idea that this might be the case, our three guests having informed us that their chicf might raise objections to their departure. ‘The anchor was silently raised about two a.m., and, towed by the four boats, we started to move slowly away from the savages’ camp. We had barely proceeded a mile when Yangsill suddenly informed us that people were moving on shore, and that it seemed as though we were about to be attacked. He promptly ordered his men in the boats to cease paddling, to climb on board the schooner at once, and to be prepared to fight for their lives. No sooner had this been accomplished, while the schooner drifted slowly onwards on the sluggish current, when from the dark shore there arose a perfect din of yelling and screeching, accompanied by a flight of arrows which pattcred about our decks. It was obvious that the savages did not intend to let us leave without a strugyle, and so, seeing the serious predicament we were in, I at once gave orders for all hands to stand by with rifles, but not to shoot unless it was absolutely necessary. Captain Roberio at the same time ordered Pedro to load the two small cannons. Turning suddenly, I found the three “ Long- Lips” we already had on beard endeavouring to escape over the side of the schooncr. ‘They were at once pulled back, however, and I in- terrogated them sternly regarding their com- rades on the shore. At first I could get nothing out of them, but by continual threats they were at last made to confess. ‘They coolly informed us that it had been previously arranged that we should be attacked directly we showed signs of leaving, and that they themselves had never intended accompanying us back to civili- zation, but had only come on board with the object of obtaining all information available regarding our defences and the date of our departure. After hearing this 1 determined, if possible, to detain the treacherous rascals until we were out of the danger-zone, and 1 therefore had them shut up below. All this time flights of arrows were being con- tinually directed at us, and two of Yangsill’s men had already been wounded. Yangsill him- WORLD MAGAZINE. self took the tiller of the drifting vessel in order to keep the schooner in the middle of the river. Soon the savages — quite invisible in the intense gloom -— bad) surrounded the schooner. We judged there must be about thirty canoes, each containing perhaps a dozen men; and with their continual yelling and screeching they turned the night into a veritable pandemonium. Yangsil natives, armed with clubs and spears, crouched about the schooner’s bulwarks, and as fast as any “ Long-Lip” tried to board us they rose up lke shadows and hurled the assailant: back again, always endeavouring to keep out of sight themselves, in order to avoid being struck by the deadly arrows and darts, fired at randum, that pattered continually on the woodwork. Presently, leaving the tiller in charge of one of his men, Yangsill sprang out to the side, and seizing cne of our assailants, more daring than the rest, dragged him on board the schooner and compiled him to confess the same tale as the three minor chiefs had already done. We discovered that it was the object of the supreme chief to seize the schooner with all its contents, and kill every person found on board. We now saw why he had been so generous with his presents and rubber, the cunning rascal no doubt thinking he would get these back after he had captured the vesscl. On learning how matters stood we realized that it was not now a question of simply keeping the savages off the schooner, but a strenuous fight for our very existence. We accordingly ordered the crew--who had hitherto been firing in the air—to take proper aim. The captain sent up two or three rockets, and by the ghastly light they gave Roberio fired one of the guns and Pedro the other. ‘The explosions caused dire consternation in the “ Long-L.ips’” flotilla, and we judged that several canoes had been upset, for we could hear the natives yelling and splashing about in the water. Inspired by this success we continued firing at the boats until the natives came to under. stand that our guns were not merely used to make a noise, and became somewhat more cautious ; though they still bombarded us with showers of arrows. Our chief object now was to kvep them off until davlight—which by this time had just begun to dawn —when we hoped a breeze would spring up. As it became lighter we discovered that we were surrounded by more than forty canocs, all full of yelling savages. During the darkness we had only been able to roughly estimate their numbers, and we now found that they were in even greater force than we had thought.

Page 314

IN THE LAND OF “THE CAPTAIN SENT UP TWO OR THREE ROCKETS, AND BY THE GHASTLY LIGHT THEY GAVE RORERIO FIRED ONE OF THE GUNS AND PEDRO THE OTHER.” We Captain Robcrio now ordered all the sails to be hoisted, in preparation for the anxiously- expected breeze. ‘This action incensed the “Long-Lips ” greatly, and with ear-splitting yells they started closing in on us, at the same time keeping up a perfect hail of arrows —also using their deadly blow-pipes with marvellous skill, for at the first volley they succeeded in wounding two of our crew, one of whom died shortly afterwards. Eight of Yanysill’s men were also badly wounded, and our position was becoming desperate in the extreme. Rushing the small guns aft we hurriedly re- loaded them with shot and scrap and fired into the nearest boats with deadly effect, sinking them and killing many of their occupants. Hardly had the echoes of the discharge died away, however, than a dozen infuriated ‘“ Long- Lips,” who had run their canoe under our bow- sprit unperceived, came swarming over the bows, looking perfectly hideous in their rage. For- ward we ran to meet them, and for a few minutes a desperate hand-to-hand combat was Vol. xviii. —39. THE “LONG- LIPS.” 305 waged, but finally we drove the survivors back into their boat ‘The natives, finding they could not carry the schooner by assault, now commenced to cry out for their imprisoned comrades ; and Yangsill told us that our only hope was to release them, as by so doing we might to some extent pacify the savages. We had now been fighting for nearly ten hours, and the great strain was tell- ing on us, so that we decided to act upon his advice without delay. Taking one of the captured men to the side of the ship we told him to call out to his chief and in- form him that if the attack ceased we would release him and his comrades at once ; if not, we should take them away with us. After a short consultation be- tween the chief and some of his men they agreed to our proposals. informed them, however, that before we set the men free we should require them to take all their weapons to the shore and leave them there ; we, in return, promising not to fire upon them. ‘They eventually consented to do this, and in less than an hour they had left all their weapons on shore and returned empty- handed. We then set our three captives free, and with a gentle wind filling our sails commenced our homeward journey, whilst the “ Long-Lips” paddled sullenly back to their settlement. Our casualties amounted to eleven men wounded and three dead. ‘Ihe savages’ losses must have been much greater. We soon reached Yangsill’s village, and after staying with him for a few days to recuperate again set sail for the mouth of the river. We arrived there, sick and weary, twenty-five days after leaving Goyaz, being fortunate enough to have both wind and tide in our favour all the time. And thus ended my unsuccessful attempt to bring to civilization members of one of the strangest tribes of people on earth,

Page 315

THE WIDE WORLD: MESSENGERS OF DEATH. 5 1 Hew a soltd i kela overcd Lullet looked alter destroy- ing a buffalo. Note how was ripped back when passing through the animal's body. Phis stecl-cored bullet killed an elephant. TRUE paralyzing effect of these modern bullets is terrible. Some idea of the frightful force with which they plough through hide, flesh, muscle, and bone may be gained from the unique illustrations we re- produce, —PAUL FLEMMING, IN *S FRY’S MAGAZINE.” CLEVER WIVES OF CLEVER: HUSBANDS. KEMARKABLE couple, in more senses than one, are Sir Frederick Lugard and his wife, formerly Miss Flora Shaw, who has earned much fame as a journalist and explorer. Sir Frederick has had a crowded and adventurous career. He has fought in Afghanistan, the Soudan, and Burma; has commanded an expedition against the slave traders in the Lake Nyassa country, has done a good deal of exploring work for the British East Africa Company, has administered the affairs of Uganda, and has organized and led the West African Frontier Force. Prior to her marriage Lady Lugard was head of the Colonial department of the ZZmes, and undertook several special commissions to South Africa, Australia, Canada, and Klondike.—-rFROM ‘* WOMAN'S LIFE.” THE WAY THEY HAVE IN THE NAVY. EV AL quaint rules are-enforced in the officer: messes, the origins of which are lost in the oblivion of antiquity, For instanee,one rule lays down that no officer may place his feet on the table (a rude habit, but very comfortable) unless he has sailed round both Capes #e., Cape of Good Hope and the Horn. Anyone not eligible found in this elegant attitude is fined drinks round by all the members who happen to be in the mess. R. LEEKS, R.N., IN S' THE GRAND MAG In Other Magazines. A LADY RANCHER. NOVEL experiment has been undertaken by Lady Ernestine Hunt, eldest daughter of the Marquess of Ailesbury. She has started a horse ranch at Calgary, Alberta, ona stretch of land nearly forty thousand acres in extent, and has personally supervised the conveyance of seventeen of the horses to England. Lady Ernestine says she is the first woman who has ever brought | stock across the Western Ocean by herself, and she pays a tribute to the cattlemen, who are, in her opinion, a much-maligned class. She is of a roving disposition, and by the age of twenty-four she had been round the Ilorn, and was a night-staff nurse at Krugersdorp at the time of the Jameson raid. A few months later she went to Australia'and back in a sailing-boat, and when apply- ing for a master’s certificate at’ Liverpool refused permission to sit for examination because of her sex.— FROM ‘ TIT-KITS.” WHERE “ROBINSON CRUSOE” WAS WRITTEN. EFERRING to our article on“ Robinson Crusoe’s Island” in the October number, it is interesting to learn that the house in which Defoe penned his immortal classic is still standing, near Mitcham, in Surrey. Our illustration depicts the back of Defoe's residence, and the second window from the ground at left of photograph stil lights the room in which Youth's favourite romance was born, — FROM “THE CAPTAIN. A ROCK-VILLAGE FROM ALOFT. HE. peculiar photograph reproduced is a snap-shot of the roofs of the houses of Roquebrune—one of the famous rock-villages of the French Riviera. These rock-villages were situated on hill-tops for safety from the Saracens and Moors, and partly because there was very little room on each hili-top and partly for security in earthquakes the houses were built so close together as to be almost a solid mass from one edge of the village to the other. ~The main “streets” of the town practically consist of lanes about six feet wide, crossed so continually by arches as to be really tunnels all the way. The photograph was taken from the top of the castle of the Lascaris, which is on a slight eminence in the centre of the town, — PROM ** THE STRAND MAGAZINE.” iatizes ty (GOOTE

Page 316

Odds and Ends. The “Old Man of the Mountains"—West African Fetish Stones—A Remarkable Challenge, etc. J HILE travelling through the Ap- penzel district of Switzerland last autumn,” writes a correspondent, “T was told the strange story of «The Old Man of the Mountains.’ Many years ago, it appears, a lad of fourteen suddenly and mysteriously disappeared from a small hamlet at the foot of the Santis Moun- tains. Three years after his disappearance a re- markably hard winter set in, and one day the missing boy _ strolled into his native village. He was in a terribly neglected condition, his clothes were in rags, and it was soon found that he had completely lost the power of speech. He seemed like some wild animal, who, over- come with hunger, is emboldened to come to close quarters with humanity in order to obtain food. He was cared for in the village, housed and fed, but his speech did not return. The following spring he again disappeared, and nothing was heard of him until the autumn, when he was dis- covered by some shep- herds in the mountains. He was closely watched for some days and was seen to go out at night and milk a couple of cows amongst the herds pastured for the summer months in the mountains. ‘Thus the mystery of the replenishing of his larder was solved. As far as could be ascertained, milk, From a] THE “OLD MAN OF THE SANTIS MOUNTAINS," WHOSE REMARKABLE LIFE-STORY IS HEKE RELATED, obtained in this way, appeared to be his only food—possibly supplemented by a few berries, roots, nuts, and mushrooms. As winter ap- proached he wandered back to the village, and from that time onward he lived in this fashion, escaping to his mountain fastness in the early spring, spending the long summer months in his cave, and creeping back to the village in winter. How he had managed to live through the first three winters, and whether he was in his cave the whole time, is a mys- tery that will never be solved. He was harm- less and quiet in his ways, but vivid colours or music terrified him ; the sight of a woman in a_ bright - coloured garment made him timid and sometimes distracted. He was well known to all the mountain shepherds, and was treated by them as a sort of half tame and petted animal. Years passed swiftly on, but made no change in the habits and haunts of the ‘Old Man of the Santis Mountains,’ as he came to be called. When he reached the age of sixty- five, however, he sud- denly became very feeble; when the spring set in he showed no sign of wishing to return to his cave home, and lived in a sort of torpor, showing no interest in his surroundings. After lingering for three years in this condition he died.” (hoto.

Page 317

308 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. WEST AFKICAN FETISH STONES, WHICH ARE SUPPOSED TO VOSSESS UNCANNY POWERS. From a Photo. Among the humerous fetish customs still in vogue in the Sher- boro district of the Sierra Leone Colony is one known as the “Paru Kotu,” or medicine stone. This “Kotu” is always a very hard kind of iron-stone, and for fetish pur- poses is usually placed just outside a town or village. The illustration shows two of these stones which a cor- respondent came across near a small village. “Phe medi cine stone 15 sup. posed to possess supernatural powers, and to be, like other fetish objects, extremely From a Photo. by V. Gritayedoff, Pa sensitive. It can heal or inflict wounds, cure or produce sudden attacks of fever, prolong or shorten suffering, and exercise an uncanny influence both for good or evil. Those who believe in the baleful properties of this medicine or fetish stone are particularly careful not to do anything that might arouse its anger. They will not, for instance, sharpen any knife or hatchet upon it, throw water upon it, or in any way treat it as a mere common stone. Whatever views we in this land of liberty may hold concerning compulsory military service, the light-hearted Frenchman, having become accustomed to it, takes his soldiering as being all in the day’s work. Nor does the burden lay on him so heavily as to crush his innate sense of humour and love of a joke, for when his period expires, and he is free to return to civilian life, he takes farewell of military life by celebrating the mock funeral of his term of service. The following photograph shows the coffin con- taining the supposed ‘“ corpse,” draped with an army blanket and with the conscript’s discarded uniform on top. With solemn tap of drum, and the “dead man’s” comrades singing an appro- priate dirge on bended knees, the game is played out. Here is a ludicrous example of “ English as she is written ”—and, incidentally, of injured © -thT | Cloaxl

Page 318

ODDS dignity. Some time ago, at the police-court of Honoluiu, Hawaiian Islands, it was re- marked during the course of a case that the Portuguese and Porto Ricans living in the islands were “social pariahs ” and undesirable residents. This led a worthy Porto Rican— Tomas Vincente y Ponce by name—who had somewhat misunderstood the matter, to send to the Honolulu Advertiser the fiery letter which we reproduce in facsimile. Of its kind the missive is probably unique, and we should very much like to know what steps the aggrieved writer will take if “ Sehor Robinson” ignores his somewhat incoherent challenge. . = 7 AN AROUSED PORTO RICAN. . Editor Advertiser;' Senor Robinson’ AND ENDS. 309 || he it is, as anid to me, pronounce my’ : er Be | wife 9 Sotin! Marja. Hereby him I’ | ri ; summon agninet the duello for hunor of | ELSES E BETS Porto Rieo, thy most wlistinguished fin- A FANNING ISLAND LAND CRAB, TWENTY INCHES LONG — THESE CREATURES CLIMB COCOANUT TREES AND CRUSH THE NUTS WITH THEI cestry carramba to hit, Sener Robin: son jete politico by thunder. I Tonras Vineente y Ponce defy him and as my amigo, my seeomd cavalier ae is said by Americaus, bereby I set apart Doh Emiteo Morales who to address biny- self to Senor Robinson’s cavalier is bis distinetion. ye | + TOMAS VINCENTE y PONCE, | ” Kakaako, A REMARKABLI From a Photo, At first sight the creature shown in the top photograph looks like a huge lobster, but in reality it is a land crab given to the first officer of the steamship Srevva by the natives of Fanning Island, a cable station in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. “These immense crabs,” writes a correspondent, “climb the cocoa- nut palms and eat the fruit while it is still green, crushing the nuts with their power- ful claws.. The crab in the photo- graph could hold a broom handle so firmly that by exerting one’s utmost strength one could not "yom a) Front al INVOKED, 18 SUPTOSED TO HAVE POWER TO CURKOATARTICULAM MALADY, POWERFUL CLAWS. (Photo. take it away. Its length was about twenty inches, and its colour a dull, slaty blue. As can be seen in the picture, we took good care to keep the creature tied up, for a nip from its terrible claws, as one climbed into one’s bunk, would be a very serious matter.” The curious stone figures depicted in the following photograph are to be seen at the Church of Notre-Dame, near Montcountour, in Brittany. The figures represent various saints each of whom, on being invoked, is supposed to have power to cure a particular malady ; for instance, St. Livertin cures diseases of the head, St. Méen madness, and so on. The simple THE “STONE DOCTORS" OF MONTCOUNTOUR—EACH FIGURE REPRESENTS A DIFFERENT SAUNT, WHO, ON DFING (Photo.

Page 319

310 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. A REMARKABLE WINDOW-DRESSING FEAT, THE LOCOMOTIVE HERE SEEN—AYPROPRIATELY From a) WAS BUILT UF OF OVER TWO HUNDRED KITCHEN UTENS inhabitants of the neighbourhood have implicit faith in the virtues of these “ stone doctors.” Nowadays window-dressing has attained the level of a fine art. Look, for instance, at the locomotive shown in the above photo- graph. ‘This is built up entirely of kitchen utensils, to the number of two hundred and thirty-one, ranging from egg-beaters and dripping- pans to filters, cake-cupboards, and table-mats. Every article, moreover, can be used for its original purpose again. ‘This wonderful engine, which was, appropriately enough, christened “The Bride's Special,” attracted admiring crowds to the shop-window in Halifax, Nova Scotia, where it was exhibited. THE froma lt MED “THE BRIDE'S SPECIAL”— 1S. (Photo. One does not usually connect crocodiles with a health resort—rather the reverse—but the crocodiles depicted in our next photograph are quite a feature of the Indian bathing-place of Manghapir, about nine miles from Karachi. This town is a place of pilgrimage for pious Hindus, but it is chiefly famous for the value of its waters in the cure of the dread scourge of leprosy. ‘The waters are hot, and more than sixty per cent. of the sufferers who bathe there annually, it is said, are cured. The crocodiles are rather noteworthy in that they live in the hot water, apparently suffering no inconvenience from its temperature or medicinal qualities. A correspondent writes from Tama, Iowa: ‘= se >- SOF MANGHAPIR, INDIATIHEY LIVE IN HOT MEDICINAL WATER, AND AKE OWJECTS OF MUCH INTEREST TO THE . by] THOUSANDS OF PILGKIMS WHO VISIT THE Crry. ( & y Ueppaidas & Sons,

Page 320

ODDS AND ENDS. 3iL when the annexed snap-shot was taken. The blue sky and bright sunlight beyond made an im- pressive contrast with the terrible whirling funnel ; and there was no rain or side-wind. ‘The cyclone, although it fortunately missed Moville, travelled for about six miles, demolishing everything in its path, and the low, rumbling roar of its advance could be heard several miles away.” The next snap-shot we re- produce is believed, by the cor- respondent who sends it, to be THIS UNIQUE ?HOTOGRAPH SHOWS A CYCLONE WHICH VASSED THE CITY OF MOVILLE, 10WA, MAY, 1899. C. Bart Jowa. new, Moville, Frou a Photo. by Ph my aaberct Na “T send you a photograph of a rs pe iY e “ia! Pug ae cyclone, witnessed by inyself and two ladies at a distance of not more than half a mile. ‘This hap pened on May 3oth, 1899, at os SORES Moville, Iowa, U.S.A. It came e within half a mile of the main street of the village, and was about one mile from the photographer ANOTHER STKIK A CREEK, ALL UNC SNAP-SHOT—A RHINOCEROS WALLOWING IN NSCLOUS OF THE PHOTOGRAPHER'S PROXIMITY, From a Photo. absolutely unique of its kind. Writing from Cal- cutta, he says: ‘While out shooting a week ago with a friend we had the good fortune to come across a female rhinoceros lying upon her back in the soft mud of a creek. Moving cautiously, we just had time to take the photograph before the good lady discovered us, whereupon we had to beat a hasty retreat.” Of the many natural curiosities to be seen in the picturesque district of the Belgian Ardennes, one of the most remarkable is La Roche Bayard, a huge perpendicular crag rising to an immense height above the right bank of the River Meuse, between the quaint old town of Dinant and the pretty little village of Anseremme. As may be seen from the accompanying photograph, this gigantic pinnacle of stone stands completely isolated, and a wide carriage road, ‘‘ Le Passage du Rocher,” winds between it and the lofty cliffs OLE LANbMAKK IN THE ~— jnland, from which it was no doubt riven ages ago by some terrific cataclysm of Nature. a “LA ROCHE BAYARD,” ¢ fsaacson.

Page 321

312 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “on IRST COMMUN’ Several famous artists have painted pictures of “The First Communion” on the Continent. The photograph reproduced herewith, however, differs considerably from the representations of juvenile communicants generally seen, in that the candidates are all boys belonging to the upper classes in Paris. The Church of St. "=A CURIOUS RELIGIOUS PROCE From a Photo. by Gribaycdoff, Paris. Clothilde, at which this communion service takes ~ place, is the aristocratic church of that city. The service takes place at seven o'clock in the morning, and when it is over the boys parade through the streets as shown in the photograph, headed by two officials in gorgeous uniforms and bearing medieval halberds. —— - — — A SPECULATION URKEYS The Poactier’s S DAUGHTER bed ” In LAND oF Lono-Lips ALapvy in Far Fist . SEARCHING FOR CASTAWAYS ee aca = eee : dons te nore gr AWindow- relish Stone: How Hassan CAPTURED ~ THE BATTLESHIP J on Skates ‘ing Fe Dinas MopeL dressing Prison : ‘Qld Man of Mountains, “Bun ToRner” aS : Bong My Motor Trip To CONSTANTINOPLE BesieceD BY MonkEYS THE MAP-CONTENTS OF “THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE," WHICH SHOWS AT AGIAN NARKATIVE OF ADVENTURE IN THIS NUMII THE LOCALITY OF ale ARTICLE AND Digitize ry GOOS

Page 322

Digitized by Google

Page 323

“T PLACED THE ADDRESS INSIDE MY CAP.” (SEE PAGE 320.)

Page 324

THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XVIIL JANUARY, 1907. No. 106. Out of the Czar’s Prison- House. By Morpbka STRICK. A Russian soldier’s straightforward narrative of how, almost at a moment's notice, and without premeditation, he accomplished a seemingly impossible feat—rescued a prisoner condemned to death from the Czar’s chief watch-house at Sebastopol, one of Russia’s strongest and best-guarded military prisons, -For the daring with which it was conceived and carried out, and the touch- and-go episodes which marked practically every phase of its execution, the exploit deserves to take rank among the famous escapes of history. HE following story forms a kind of sequel to the famous revolt of the Russian warship, Aviaz Potemkin, of the Black Sea Fleet. The revolt, it may be remembered, broke out on June 27th, 1905—ostensibly on account of Lad food, but in reality as part of a scheme to raise the standard of rebellion throughout the south of Russia. The scheme, as is well known, fell through. After wandering aimlessly for eleven days, the revolted ship entered Roumanian waters and gave itself up. The crew was interned and the vessel returned to the Russian authorities, who re-christened it the Panteleimon. Among the leaders on board the ship, one of the most prominent was a young man, at that time described simply as “a student,” but since then known to have been an undergraduate of the Odessa University and a member of the Odessa Social Democratic Committee, Constantine Feldman by name. He came on board the ship the day after the revolt, with two other revolutionary emissaries, and stayed there for a week. When the vessel came to Feodosia to obtain provisions he, with others, went on shore, and in the ensuing mé/e was wounded and taken prisoner. After having undergone treat- ment in the hospital he was taken to Sebastopol, court-martialled, and condemned to death. He was lying in the military prison of this grim stronghold, awaiting execution, when he was freed by the sentry and one of the warders. How this remarkable escape was conceived and carried out is told in the following absorbing story by the sentry himself, Mr. M. Strick. It may be added that Mr. Strick, not knowing the English language, told his story to a friend, who set it down in English. There has been no attempt on the part of the transcriber to add Vol. xviii,—40. anything to the narrative by way of embellish- ment ; he merely wrote it as it was told to him in the plain, unvarnished language of a simple child of the people. I was doing my military service in the soth - Bielostok Regiment. I was at first a common soldier in the ranks, but afterwards, by good luck, was transferred to the regimental band. Though by no means content with my lot, yet I was not a revolutionary and belonged to no political organization. One day, however, there came an order from head-quarters to dismiss all Jews from the military bands and send them back into the ranks, and so I returned to my original place in the roth Company. The blow was a very severe one. During my long service as bandsman I had become totally unused to the hardships of life in the ranks; secondly, I was degraded from the rank of a sergeant to that of a common soldier ; and, thirdly, the roth was the worst- treated company in the whole regiment. My lot became so wretched that but for the fact that only two months remained to the end of my service I should most probably have deserted. “ Among the places where sentry duty had to be done by all the companies in turn was “ His Imperial Majesty’s Chief Watch-house of Sebas- topol””—a military prison of such exceptional importance that no Jewish soldier was ever sent to guard it. It so happened, however, either because our roth Company was so small in numbers, or because I was regarded as an exceptionally good and intelligent soldier, that I was one day ordered to join the company and proceed to the prison, there to act as messenger to the officer in command. This, however, was not strictly sentry duty ; I simply had to remain near the chancellery and execute various errands.

Page 325

316 THE WIDE WORLD But a week later, on Friday, August 25th, 1905, our company was again sent to the prison, and when we were mustered I heard my name, Mordka Strick, called out for the third relief of the guard, watching the prisoners kept in separate cells. I could hardly believe my ears—that I, a Jew, should be appointed to such a responsible post !—but such was the case, and at half-past eight we were marched off to the watch-house. Here I must explain the nature of the sentry work. The sentries at the prison are completely changed every twenty-four hours. Every morning-a new detachment, consisting of two officers, one sergeant, two junior corporals, and thirty-two men, arrive and take over the duties from their predecessors. The officers maintain a careful watch over every- thing; the sergeant keeps continually in his hand the keys of the cells; and the corporals take the sentries to their posts. If a prisoner wants to leave his cell the sergeant is called by the sentry and unlocks the door; and the prisoner, escorted by two soldiers, walks out. The sentries are divided into three reliefs, each doing duty for two hours four times in the twenty-four hours. t eavarory Common Cells Soldters’ Common Room | Common Cells 1 P B STORE oom vA Corridor J. Officers Corridor MAGAZINE. There is besides a permanent staff of warders, whose duty it is to clean the cells and corridors, carry food to the prisoners, light the lamps, and so on. As I said, I was appointed to the third relief, having to guard the prisoners confined in the solitary cells. My post, consequently, was in the corridor marked on the plan by the letter A. It should be noted here that, this corridor being in a direct line with the entrance, and being divided off from corridor B by a grated gate, the sentry placed there could easily be seen by his comrade stationed outside the building at C and continually walking up and down the road. He could also be seen through the large windows by the sentry on, the other side (D). When I arrived in the morning I naturally proceeded to the sentries’ common room (E), threw off from my shoulders the heavy folded watch-coat, and, being hot and covered with dust, went into the corridor (B), there to have a wash under the tap (F). As I was wiping my face I felt somebody touch me on the shoulder and ask me: “What are you, a Jew or a Georgian?” I turned round and saw the chief warder—a thorough Russian, of the rank of junior corporal. “A Jew,” I replied. “Then why don’t you go abroad?” he exclaimed, looking straight into my face. I was dumbfounded. The thought that he was playing the spy flitted through my brain. This man, I decided, must have been sent to find out whether I, a Jew; was reliable. -“ Leave me alone, will you?” I said, angrily. The warder was about to say something further when we were interrupted by the sergeant. “ You confounded Jew, what are you doing here?” he shouted. ‘Don’t you know that sentries are not allowed to talk with any- body?” I made my way to the common room. The warder, however, had evi- dently something very im- portant to tell me, for shortly afterwards he fol- ALAN OF THE PRISON AT SEVASTOVOL, SHOWING THE VARIOUS POINTS MENTIONED IN-THE Naxkative, lowed me and invited me

Page 326

OUT OF THE CZAR’S PRISON - HOUSE. 317 “(| TURNED ROUND AND SAW THE CHIEF WARDER,” to the dark pantry (G), where the lamps and oil were kept. “ Look here,” he said, “I mean it in earnest. You are a Jew and are always being persecuted. Every Jew who has the means is emigrating. Why should you stay in this wretched country and in this wretched service? I myself, a Russian as I am, am sick of it. I want to go abroad—at once! But I want you to accompany me. I will get you a passport and give you a hundred roubles.” I could not understand what he meant or what he was driving at, but I saw that he was in grim earnest. So I decided to pacify him with- out giving myself away. “All right,” I said, “let us talk it over to-morrow. I am on sentry duty to-day, you know, and can do nothing. Besides, such things as going abroad cannot be decided in a moment ; we must consider it carefully. V’ll let you know a place where we can meet to-morrow at three p.m. and have a chat.” I saw the man was terribly upset by my words— evidently they were a great disappointment to him ; but I left him and returned to the common room. It was eleven o'clock, when the first watch, which had stood from nine a.m., was being relieved by the second watch, I was thus sitting in the common room, thinking over the mysterious proposal of the warder and trying to guess what it meant, when the soldier who had just been relieved from his post in corridor A came up to me and said, triumphantly: “Strick, you were always denying that there were Jews on the Potemkin. Here, in the cell No. 12, where I stood, is a Jew who, as you can see from the note over the cell-door, was on the Potemkin. He is a student and evidently very rich, for he wears a silk shirt.” Suddenly there was a sharp ring of the bell. We all looked at the indi- cator which was hanging on the wall, and saw that it came from the sentry in corridor A. The sergeant went up to the grated gate and asked the man what he wanted. ‘The prisoner No. 12 asked to see the officer,” was the reply. In a moment or two the officer went into the corridor, and we fol- lowed him, stopping at the gate to hear what was going on. The prisoner was complaining that, though not a military man, he was never taken out for a walk in the prison yard, and de- manded that he should be allowed in the fresh air every day. The officer’s reply was startling. “ Don’t you know that you will soon be hanged?” he said, roughly. “What do you want fresh air for? ‘Try to be ill, so as to die gladly.” With these brutal words he ordered the sergeant to lock the door of the cell, and went away. We were all rather impressed by the scene, and I began to wait impatiently for my turn so that I might see the condemned man. One o’clock struck, and I rose and went into corridor A, accompanied by one of the corporals. As soon as I was left alone I began pacing up and down the passage. I could sce the occupants of the cells watching me through the small holes in their doors. “Sentinel!” Suddenly I heard a whisper coming from the cell No. 12. I was about to approach the door, when somebody passed in corridor B, and I had to wait ull every-

Page 327

318 . THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. thing was quiet again. Then I approached the door and peeped through the hole. I saw a tall, dark man with a long beard and emaciated features. From the board over the door I had previously learned that his name was Feldman. “You are a Jew?” he began, in the way now familiar to me. “¥es,” I replied. Thereupon he began saying something which I could not at first understand. Next he asked me for a match, but I saw that this was merely a pretext to enter into conversation with me. “T cannot make out,” he whispered, “why they keep me here. I am not a soldier, I am a civilian ; and they treat me so badly.” “What punishment, then, do you expect ?” I asked, though I had heard Feldman’s previous conversation with the officer. “What can I expect?” he replied, coolly. “Within three days I shail be hanged.” ‘The words were spoken in such a nonchalant tone that a thrill of horror passed through me. Just then, however, somebody entered the outer corridor, and I turned away from the cell and began to walk up and down excitedly. When all was quiet again I went up to Feld- man’s door. He was watching me through the spy-hole. “T wish I could help you,” I said ; ‘ but is it possible ? You see what a place this is—not a fly can escape.” “Tt gs possible,” he whispered. ‘I have a comrade here, a Russian.” More he could not say, for just then the clock struck three, and I had to leave the place. ‘The gate opened, and the first relief entered. It is impossible to describe what I felt. All sorts of thoughts flashed through my brain— above all, the last words of the condemned man rang in my ears. He had a friend in this very prison, and it was possible to save him! As I stood thinking in the passage leading into the open (H), having previously put away my rifle in the common room, the idea suddenly dawned upon me that it must be the warder who had spoken to me who was the “friend” trying to arrange for Feldman’s escape. I decided to speak to him at once, but discovered he was out. While waiting for him near the entrance I tried to concuct some plan of action, and soon conceived one. ‘The scheme seemed to flash across my mind ready-made, so plain did every- thing appear to me in all its details, and so easy to carry out! 1 grew feverish with excitement and impatience until at last I saw the warder coming, He lowered his eyes and tried to pass me without speaking. “Stay!” T said ; “1 know everything !” He looked at me with surprise, mingled with fear. “What is it you know?” he muttered. “1 know everything,” L replied, with emphasis. “T know why you spoke to me this morning. Have you a plan ready?” I saw the man suspected me. He thought I had got wind of the affair and was playing a foul game. On the other hand, I myself grew afraid, even as I spoke, lest I had mistaken the “ friend ” and was giving myself away. And so we stood, whispering to each other for some time, without mentioning any name or saying anything definite —a veritable pantomime of mutual suspicion! At last, however, we came to an understanding. “Tt is getting late,” I said, “we must set to work. Have you any scheme?” He told me his plans, but they were quite worthless. I then informed him that I had an idea, and after I had explained it he agreed to follow my instructions in everything. First of all I told him to smuggle two bottles of brandy (vodka) into the prison. He took the hint and went. In the meantime I got a soft piece of black soldiers’ bread and thoroughly kneaded it in my palm. My idea was to get the sergeant to partake of the vodka. While drink- ing it he would, in all probability, put down the key, which he otherwise kept in his hand, and directly he did this I intended to take, by means of my dough, an exact impression of its wards. Of course, it was strictly against the regulations to bring vodka into the place, and I knew I was playing a very dangerous game. Not only might the sergeant refuse to take the vadka—in which case the entire scheme would fall to the ground—but he might also have me arrested and punished. Somehow, however, I felt sure, knowing the weakness of the Russian soldier for brandy, that he could not refuse the temptation. So, indeed, things fell out. When the warder brought me the fiery liquor I at once offered it to the sergeant. “You wretched Jew!” he shouted, “how dare you bring zodséa into the watch-house ? Tl report you to the officer!” He turned to go, but at that moment the two corporals, hear- ing the word zodka and seeing the bottles, jumped up and stopped him, ‘That. settled the business. Immediately they all assembled in the corner and the bottles began to travel from one to another. First, the sergeant took a long draught, next I had a sip, and then the rest. I soon left them and went to the table, which stood near one of the windows. ‘The sergeant followed me, but could not sit long, and, putting down the keys on the table, went back to the bottle once more. Now was my opportunity! Calmly and

Page 328

our oF _ deliberately, as if I were mercly play- ing, I took out my piece of black bread and, picking out the key of the cells—I knew it well by this time—pressed the wards against it. ‘The impression was perfect. Ina moment or two I left the room. The warder followed me, and I gave him the piece of bread, telling him to be careful with it, and to order a key at once. He went off, and at five minutes past five re- turned with the precious key wrapped up in a piece of paper. I put the key into my boot-leg. “Now let us consider what to do next,” I said. I was no longer afraid of the sergeant since he had accepted the vodka, and so we could talk pretty freely, only changing the subject when anyone was passing. I then communicated my plan to the warder in detail. There was in the place a small depot of military stores, called the “Tnviolable” (see plan, letter 1), because it was specially preserved for time of war, and under ordinary circumstances was never entered. Into this room 1 intended to let Feldman escape, after I had un- locked his door. ‘The warder, on his part, was to keep ready in the “Tnviolable” a junior warder’s uni- form—trousers, tunic, boots, cap, and all—together with a ladder. He THE CZAR’S PRISON - HOUSE. 319 er | was to dress Feldman in this uniform x and take him out with the ladder to extinguish the lamps outside the prison. They could then effect their escape, for in the dark the sentries would not know who they were. There was only one difficulty : Feldman being tall and of an imposing appear- ance, he would certainly, in passing corridors B and H, be noticed by the soldiers in and about the common room (E). On the other hand, he could not be let out through the officers’ room (K). ‘This was an unforeseen difficulty, and for some time we almost despaired of success. At last I said :— “Ts it within your powers to order repairs ?” “Not quite,” replied the warder. “I have to bring a written order from the chancellery of the prison.” “Well, can’t you get such an order now?” “No, not now; the officer on daily duty would be away.” “So much the better,” I said; “you surely know the clerk ?” “1 TOOK OUT MY PIECE OF BLACK BREAD AND PRESSED THE WARDS AGAINST IT." “Yes, of course,” he replied; “he is a countryman of mine, from the same town, and we came into the army together.” “Well, then,” I continued, “go and tell him that there are some repairs to be done in the first officers’ room (K), and there will be some five roubles to share on the job between you two. Let him give you the written order, duly signed and sealed, and you will hand it to the officer and ask him and the others to shift to another room. The thing will then be done.” The warder at once proceeded ‘to execute his errand—(I should explain that, being a sort of caretaker, he was at liberty to go in and out as he pleased)—and at ten minutes to six he was back. He brought with him no written order, but had made an arrangement with the clerk that the latter should suitably reply to any inquiry by telephone. I was standing in the corridor when the junior officer came out.

Page 329

320 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “Sir,” said the warder, “we have to make some repairs in your room; I must ask you, therefore, to move to some other apartment.” “Have you a written order?” asked the officer. “No,” answered the warder, “I never have ; I always transmit the order verbally. If you like you can inquire by telephone.” “Right you are,” said the officer, and promptly rang up the chancellery, where the clerk told him all was in order. “Very goad,” he said, turning to the warder ; “show us a room we can move to.” The warder took him out into the officers’ corridor (J) and showed him room L. It was, as will be seen from the plan, somewhat farther along the passage, so that the line of escape from the depdt (1) might be free. The warder then called to his assistance two soldiers from the common room and _ shifted all the furniture, taking care to break the lamp in room K, so that the place might be dark at the time of escape. Then anvther idea occurred to me. Feldman wore a long beard, and I thought it would be well to cut it. Accordingly I asked the warder to run out and bring me a clipper, which he at once proceeded to do. Meanwhile I waited with feverish. impatience for seven o'clock, at which time I had to go to my post. I would then tell Feldman to be ready by one o’clock, when I would come for the third time and help him out. At five minutes to seven the officer gave the order for the third relief to come forward. We took our rifles, the list of names and posts was read out, and we were marched to our places. Happily my friend the warder had had the sense to hide the key of the kerosene pantry, so that the lamps in the corridors were not lit. The semi-darkness gave me an opportunity to speak with Feldman, and it was then that the thought of my own fate first dawned upon me. What would become of myself? I put the question to Feldman directly I had told him that to-night he would be free. “Don’t you be uneasy about it, friend,” he said ; “I will write a note and the warder will take it to my friends. ‘They will wait for you outside, and take good care of you. You will probably be taken abroad, and there you will be all right.” That put me at my ease. Still, I thought, in case I don’t meet anybody outside —accidents are liable to happen under all circumstances —it would be well for me to have some address to goto. I told Feldman this. “Well,” he said, “you see I am a stranger here, and have no addresses. Still, I can give you one, but you cannot go there before seven in the morning. For the rest, I am sure it won't be needed ; they will wait for you outside. In order that you may recognise each other, keep a handkerchief in’ your left hand and remember the watchword, ‘The mare with the tail,’ to which you will get an answer, ‘ Asses’ ears.’ You will then know each other.” With this he jotted down a note for his friends, and gave me an address on a piece of paper. The former I put in my pocket to give to the warder, and the latter I placed inside my cap, under the lining. We then began discussing the escape, and I gave him instructions how to proceed. As soon as I was relieved, he was to lie down on his bed and pretend to sleep. When my turn came once more, at one a.m., I would let him out, cut his beard, and make a dummy with his clothes to place upon his bed, so that the sentries who came afterwards might think that he was still asleep. I also gave him directions how to reach the depot—through the corridor (B), first turning on the right into the officers’ corridor (J), and then the first door on the right (I). He was to wait there for the warder, who would change his clothes and take him out, in the guise of a junior porter, through the emptied room (K) and passage (H). At nine I was relieved. As soon as I put down my rifle I went to see the warder, who was engaged in taking supper to the prisoners. When he had finished I made him a sign and went to the lavatory (P). He soon followed me and gave me the clipper, wrapped in a piece of paper, while I handed him Feldman’s letter to his friends. It was then, while I was idly look- ing at a waste-pipe, that a novel idea struck me. “T have an inspiration,” I said to my com- panion. “Can’t you arrange for the cleaning of the drains to-night ?” “What on earth for?” he asked, amazed. “Don’t you see?” I said. “ There will be an awful smell throughout the place, and our enemies won't linger about in the corridors.” “Splendid!” he cried. “Ti telephone to the company at once. They usually come at twelve or one in the night. You ave a clever Jew!” With this he went, and I returned to the common room, where all the soldiers were assembled. In about ten minutes’ time I heard that the sentry of the first relief, who stood at my post, had fallen ill, and was to be taken to the barracks. I took no notice of this and lay down on the seat which stood in the entrance passage (H). It was already ten-thirty. The warder returned from town, having delivered the letter and ordered the cleaning of the drains,

Page 330

OUT OF THE CZAR’S PRISON - HOUSE. 32t and then went to his room to prepare some tea for us. Suddenly I heard my name called out by the sergeant. At eleven o'clock,” he said, gruffly, “you will go to your post again, as the sentry of the first relief has been taken ill !” I was thunderstruck. All my hopes were suddenly dashed to the ground. However, I protested. According to the regulations a sentry, during the four hours’ interval when he is relieved, has to rest for two hours and to sleep for the remaining two, so as to be in a fit state when his next turn comes. In this case, however, I had not had any sleep, and could therefore truthfully say that, not having rested enough, I could not take upon myself the responsibility of sentry work. No sooner did I urge this, however, than the sergeant exploded in a torrent of invectives and went to the officer to report my insubordi- nation. I felt quite lost, expecting to be immediately arrested and searched, when the key would be found upon me. “Who is Strick?” shouted the officer on entering the common room. “T, sir!” é “Tt is very bad of you not to obey the sergeant,” he snapped. “Obedience is above everything. You are an old soldier, and ought to know. You should have gone to your post and then called me out. At the same time, you are quite right not to wish to go to your post—you are not in a fit state. Go and lie down ; and you” —turning to the sergeant—“ call in asoldier from the fortress garrison.” At last the fateful hour came. I was shivering all over as I rose to take my rifle, and red circles swam before my eyes as I went along the corridor to my post. I could not, however, help smiling when the corporal swore at the horrible stench that was now spreading all over the building, from the operations of the drain- cleaners. He ran back holding his nose when he had placed me at my post. As soon as it became quiet I approached door No. 12 and looked through the hole. Feldman lay on his cot. I thought he was still pretending to sleep, and whispered his name through the hole. There was no answer— Vol. xviii, —41. evidently the poor fellow had really fallen asleep through sheer nervous exhaustion. I did not dare to call out, and so at last I decided to open the door with my key and enter the cell. I placed the key in the keyhole and turned it. Heavens! it did not catch—it was too short! My heart sank within me. All was lost!) ~The IT IS VERY BAD OF YOU NOT TO OBEY THE SERGEANT,’ I SNAPPED.” key being unavailable, all my plans were shattered, and poor Feldman was destined to die on the gallows! But wakened he must be in any case, and so, with trembling lips, I called out his name. He at once jumped up, with dishevelled hair and frightened looks. “The key won't catch; I have tried,” were the only words I could utter. “What shall we do, then ?” he asked, hoarsely. “T don’t know; I will try again.” I asked him to pull on the door with all his

Page 331

322 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. might, and myself pressed against it, and by a supreme effort I caught the spring of the lock. The door opened with a swing, but Feldman, being much exhausted by his confinement, fell against the wall, where stood a small table covered with syphons, glasses, and other articles, bringing the whole thing down with a crash! Vor a moment I stood paralyzed; but I soon recovered myself, shut the door, turned the key, and taking up my rifle began pacing up and down the corridor. The very next moment the officer appeared on the scene, accompanied by the sergeant and a few soldiers. “What is the matter?” he shouted. “The Jew climbed up on the table to look through the window and upset it,” I reported with a show of annoyance. “Which Jew?” asked the officer. “The one in No. 12.” The officer approached the cell, looked through the hole, and growled, savagely :— “ How dare you climb on the table? If you don’t behave, I'll have you locked up in a dark cell.” With this he went, taking his party with him. Again everything was quiet ; as the stench from the drain-cleaning was great, both officers and soldiers took care to close their doors tightly. Again I approached Feldman’s cell, and we repeated the same operation, opening the door carefully. Feldman at once made a dummy out of his clothes, and we covered it over with a blanket so as to make it look like a human figure. Then I pulled out the paper contain- ing the clipper for cutting Feldman’s beard. Scarcely, however, had I opened the package than the thing slipped and fell with a bang on the stone floor! Again there was a commotion, and the sergeant came out from the common room. ‘This time the door of the cell was not even shut, and I therefore instinctively jumped up to the grating which divided the two corridors (A and B), determined, if possible, not to let him in. “What the deuce is the matter here to-night, you Jewish dog?” asked the sergeant. “1 was pulling out my handkerchief,” I mumbled, “and I jerked out some coins.” Already I felt the hangman’s rope round my neck. ‘The sergeant had only to enter the cor- ridor to sve that there was no coin on the floor and that the door of the cell was not locked. Fortunately he decided upon another course. “All right ; you'll tell this to the officer in the morning when I report,” he growled. “ Now, unfortunately, he is asleep.” With this he went quickly back into the common room and banged the door after him. Meanwhile my ally the warder was all the time awake, alternately telling stories to the soldiers in the common room to keep them occupied, and then going into the corridor outside to see how things were progressing. Presently he came round, through the yard, to the window in the corridor where I stood, and made me a sign to be quick. I at once pro- ceeded to put the clipper together, and gave it to Feldman to cut his beard with. Then I opened his cell door, passed him through the grated gate, and watched him disappear round the corner. “Done!” I said to myself, and a strange feeling of mingled fear and joy came over me. However, I had no time to reflect. I placed Feldman’s boots by the side of the cot, hung up his student’s cap on the nail, and closed the door. The cut hair and the clipper, I ought to mention, were taken away by Feldman in his pocket. Then I shouldered my rifle and was about to resume my tramp, when I noticed, to my dismay, that the prisoner in cell No. to was watching me! Again I thought that all was lost, but no sooner did the man catch my eye than he ran away from the door and lay down on his bed, pretending to sleep I understood from this that I need have no fear, and quietly resumed my march. A few minutes passed, and I was wondering whether Feldman was already out, when, to my intense horror, ] saw him running back, in his shirt and barefoot, straight into my corridor ! I was simply terrified. I thought he had been found in the depdt and asked who he was, and was flying panic-stricken back to his cell. Indeed, at this very minute somebody opened the door and entered corridor B. Fortunately cell No. 20 was empty and unlocked, so I pushed Feldman into it—with such a force that he fell down —and closed the door. It was high time, for I scarcely had time to turn round when the senior officer entered, holding a hand- kerchief to his nose. Without saying a word, he began trying the doors of the cells. To this very day Iam unable to understand what made him come so suddenly and act like this. T thought at the time I should go mad with the suspense. Did he suspect anything, or did he not? He looked into every cell, glanced at the dummy in No. 12, and then approached No. 20. Feldman was standing in the recess between the wall and the door, flattening himself against the stone. The officer pressed a button in his cigarette case, and a ray of electric light lit up the hole in the door; he threw a glance inside, and turned away. “Everything is in order,” he said. are a good sentry.” “Glad to serve, away. “You sir!” I replied, as he turned

Page 332

our OF “1 SAW MIM RUNNING BACK STRAIGHT INTO MY CORRIDOK.” I was saved—for the fourth or fifth time that memorable day! Unfortunately, Feldman was still in the place, and he had to be disposed of. As ill-luck would have it, there began at that moment a considerable commotion in the corridor, and I was not even able to speak to Feldman, At the same time, I knew that in about another half-hour I should be relieved and my chance gone for ever. In about ten minutes, however, things quieted down, and I approached Feldman’s door, asking him why. he had come back. “ There was nobody there,” he said, dejectedly. “What shall we do, then?” I- asked. “T don’t know,” he said, wearily ; “evidently I shall have to return to my cell and give up all hopes of escaping.” At that moment my ally the warder came up to his room. As the corridor gate was near to ‘THE CZAR’S PRISON- HOUSE. 323 his door I approached it and told him what had happened. He asked me to let Feldman out once more and instruct him to wait in the depot till he, the warder, came. I was about to do so when a soldier, a prisoner from the common cells (either N or O), was taken outside. I was furious. Another five minutes, I thought, and I should be relieved, and all would be ruined. Fortunately, the soldier soon came back, and the door of the common room was scarcely closed after him and his convoy when I whispered to Feldman: “Run!” He did so, and safely turned the corner into the officers’ corridor. A minute - or so after I saw the warder going to the depédt with a parcel of clothes. Three minutes later I was relieved of my post. Thus ended my task — con- ceived and carried out all within the space of twelve hours. And I, who had entered the building a perfectly innocent man, had now committed a most serious political and military crime. But, though the task was done, the danger was still present, and I had to think how I myself was to escape. At any moment Feld- man’s cell might be entered and then the whole plot would be found out. Besides, I did not know whether Feldman and the warder were out, and so long as they were still in the building I could not seoiidce myself safe. Just as I was revolving all this in my mind I saw the warder coming up to his room. As he passed by me he whispered, “ We are going in a minute.” So they were not out yet! I had to think, however, of my safety, so I approached the sergeant, who was slumbering at the table, and asked his permission to go out for half an hour into the fresh air outside the building, where the sentry (C) was walking, saying that the horrible smell pervading the corridor had made me feel ill. Obtaining a sulky permission, I promptly threw off my shoulders the folded great - coat and went outside. There was an arm-chair standing there, left by the officers on the previous evening, and I sat myself down. I had now to escape the clutches of the sentry. In itself this was no difficult thing to do. ‘he soldier was pacing up

Page 333

324 THE WIDE WORLD and down along the entire front of the building, and I could easily, when he tumed his back upon me to go in one direction, dart away in the opposite one. But this course involved considerable physical danger, as the prison stood on the top of a steep hill. I must take my fate into my own hands, and at the risk of breaking my neck I sped away down the hill when the soldier turned his back. Reaching the bottom, breathless and bruised, I at once rose to my feet, took my handkerchief in my left hand, and looked about for Feld- man’s friends, but not a soul was to be seen. At last I saw a Tartar, and promptly ran up to him and said: “A mare with a tail!” He looked at me as though I were mad, mumbled something, and passed on. I was in despair. Day was beginning to dawn, and a gang of ! “) PROMPTLY RAN UP TO MIM AND SAID? "A MARE WITH A TAIL!” I saw, however, that: MAGAZINE. soldiers of the repairing department proceeding to work came suddenly upon me. The sergeant who commanded them stopped me and asked who Iwas. I told him I was messenger to the officer in charge of the sentries in the prison and was proceeding there, whereupon he left me. Again I looked round, but could see nobody. I began to fear that the warder had betrayed us, and decided to return and. see whether he had really gone. I climbed up the hill: and, when the sentry turned away, slipped into the building from the other.side. All was quiet there ; every- one was overcome by fatigue and slumbered. I felt certain the warder had gone. Greatly agitated, I came out again to my former place, where the sentry was, but this time a new soldier was pacing there. Happily, he was one of my acquaintances, and it did not take me long to persuade him to let me pass to visit the market. As soon as I reached the road below I took out my handkerchief and looked about, but there was nobody to be seen. Wearily I waited till it struck six on the church tower, and still no one came. It was now quite bright, and the people passing by looked at me with some surprise. At last I decided on a desperate step. I would go down to the town, accost the first Jew I met, tell him every- thing, and throw myself on his mercy. I was about to take this risky course when I suddenly re- membered the address given to me by Feldman. Taking out the slip of paper from under the lining of my cap, I went in the direction indicated, but was soon stopped by a patrol. The sergeant asked me to produce my leave of ab- sence, but I told him that I had none, as I was merely acting as messenger to my officer, who had sent me to his house to fetch some tea. He looked at me with some suspicion, but finally let me go. Evidently luck was with me all that day. After some difficulty I discovered the house I wanted. I remembered Feldman saying to me that it would be no use going to the ad- dress before seven, but I could not wait; at any moment I might be detained by an officer or patrol, and then my game would be up. Accordingly I approached the door

Page 334

OUT OF THE CZAR’S PRISON -HOUSE. 325 “and rang the bell. An old Jew an- swered the ring ; but when I asked him if such-and- such a person lived there he looked up with affright and promptly said “No.” He was about to shut the door in my face, when I stopped him. “ Don’t shut me out!” I cried ; “T am the soldier who saved Feld- man frony prison. Help me!” The’ Jew’s ex- pression changed. He at once let me in; then, taking me to the vast courtyard at the back, pointed out to mea balconyon the second floor, saying, “ Inquire there.” With a pal- pitating heart I crossed the court- yard, but nosooner did I reach the landing on the second floor, . . “1 FELL 5 E oR sw le which:hadtaowine ELI, TO THE GKOUND IN A SWOUN nobody waited for me outside the pri- son was because the warder had so many times disap- pointed Feldman’s friends bynotkeep- ing to his promise to effect his escape that at last they lost all faith in him and did not believe him even when he brought Feldman’s note. Feldman himself, together with the warder, did not find any- body awaiting him when he came out, and had to take a cab and drive round the town till hethoughtit would be safe to go to his friend’s house. He had arrived there a few minutes be- fore I came, and was about to send someone to meet me when my ar- rival interrupted the proceedings. What happened afterwards was one continuous change dow looking out on it from the flat had been of hiding-places, and then going from one town directed to, than a sudden commotion began to another in the direction of the Austrian frontier. inside, and a young girl jumped out and For six days I was in hiding in Sebastopol, tremblingly inquired, “What do you want?” changing both my day and night abodes each “T want Mr. So-and-so,” I said, almost shivering with excitement ; and showed her my paper. “He is no longer living here,” she said; “he moved out about three months ago!” I could no longer hold out ; everything swam before me and I began to stagger. Then, all of a sudden, I saw Feldman himself coming out, and with a cry I rushed to him, caught him by the hand, and fell to the ground in a swoon.’ My twenty-four hours’ cycle of adventures was complete, and the rest can be told briefly. As I ascer- : MORDKA STRICK, WHO TELLS tained afterwards, the reason why soma) THis story. — [J'hoto, day. On the seventh day, disguised as a rich tourist, I proceeded to the famous pleasure resort of Yalta. From thence I proceeded by steamer to Feodosia, and then began a tedious railway journey, with frequent stoppages for a day or two in different towns. Near Wishnivetz we crossed the Austrian frontier, and in a couple of days were safe in Zurich. Thus ended my remarkable ad- venture. I had done a_ thing which sounds incredible—rescucd a condemned man from the cells of the Czar’s chief watch-house of Sebastopol, perhaps the very strongest lock-up in all Russia.

Page 335

Climbing a Ladder of Knives. AN EXTRAORDINARY CHINESE FESTIVAL. By FRepDERIC W. Knockkr, F.Z.S., CURATOR OF THE PERAK STATE MusEUM. An account of a remarkable ceremony which is practised to this day among the Chinese. The article describes how barefooted devotees, by way of propitiating the gods for the sins of their fellow-men, voluntarily ascend lofty ladders whose rungs are composed of keen-edged knives and well-sharpened sickles — wonderful to relate, without apparent injury to themselves! The author was an eyewitness of one of these amazing performances, and illustrates his description with some extremely striking photographs taken by himself. 5 = RQM a Western point of view a Chinaman is a Chinaman—an indi- vidual with a yellow skin, almond eyes, shaven forehead, and a pigtail hanging down on his back. On the other hand, if for one moment we could stand m the position of the Celestial and look through Eastern spectacles, we should not see any dis- tinction between English, French, and German, any more than through Western spectacles we see the great Chinese nation divided up into numerous sub-nations speaking different dialects, living under different conditions, and affecting different customs. It is the same with religion ; as the Oriental sees the whole of the white people following, to them, one mystic belief, so do we look upon the Chinese solely as a nation of idolaters and devil-worshippers, oblivious of the fact that there are as many religious creeds and beliefs .permeating the Chinese Empire as there are distinct languages. Considering the profound antiquity of the Chinese Empire, the existence to-day of primi- tiveness in most things Chinese is not only sur- prising, but is difficult of realization by the civilized Westerner. We in the West are iran | Prom al BRINGING THE CADDER 10 THE PRSTIVAL GROUND, [/hete,

Page 336

CLIMBING A LADDER OF KNIVES. 327 e long blades wherever ‘the body and limbs touch the chair. On the back the knives are placed horizontally ; on the seat, as well as at the base, for the feet to rest upon, vertically ; while each arm is made of a similar blade, along the edge of which the sitter’s arm rests. All these blades are sharpened with a whetstone before use. The photographs accompanying this article illustrate part of an ex- traordinary ceremonial _ performance which took place in Taiping, one of the oldest Chinese mining centres in the Federated Malay States, as recently as the end of 1905—a cere- mony which, for want of a_ better name, I have called “Climbing a Ladder of Knives.” The same sort of blades as used in the knife-chairs are here utilized to form a ladder consisting of twenty-four rungs, each formed by a long, keen blade, edge uppermost. I can guarantee the sharpness of every rung, for each was critically examined by me before the ladder was hoisted into an upright position. The keenness of the blades, RAISING THE LADDER READY FOR USE. From a Photo. accustomed to look upon the idea of people voluntarily suffering mortal pain by way of pro- pitiation for the sins of their fellow-men as a philosophy practised only in the past. Yet in this year of grace 1907 this custom, tinged with a peculiar savagery, is still prevalent in the Far It is disguised, perhaps, and its intrinsic meaning pa ly hidden, under the general term of fanaticism —thanks possibly to the super- ficial knowledge of customs flavouring of the occult to be gained from the writings of the ubiquitous globe-trotter. Amongst the Chinese there are still in exist- ence various forms of self-torture and methods of voluntarily inflicting bodily pain and dis- comfort to atone for the sins of others and to make peace with the powers that be. Of these the nail-bed is, perhaps, the most horrible to behold, consisting as it dues of a wooden bed thickly covered with nails, fixed in with the points upwards. At the head is a raised portion forming a pillow, also studded with nails. ‘The knife-chair is another instrument of torture, the very sight of which is enough to make the European’s blood run cold. . it takes the form of a straight-backed arm-chair, furnished with THE BAKEFOOT DEVOTEE HAL ONE KEEN KNIFE-EDGE TO TH. From a| GREAT. CROWD (Photo, WATCHED IN AWE-STRUCK SILENCE,

Page 337

328 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. however, can al- most be seen in one of the pic- tures, which shows the three bottom rungs of the ladder; and, incidentally, the devotee dis- mounting after having completed the journey to the top and down again. On the lowest rung of the ladder the necks of two live domestic hens were cut, after which _ sacrifice the self- installed intercessor for the people knelt at the foot of the much longer than the descent, pre- sumably because the man adopted the principle of placing one foot firmly on the next blade before throwing on to it the weight of his body, an action necessitated in dragging up the other foot. Whatever device or method he adopted, how- ever, to cheat the anger of the gods, he arrived down safely without a cut or scratch on either hands or feet, as I can per- ladder and the soles of his bare feet were anointed by a Chinese priest. Before rising, the same priest solemnly tossed up two lozenge- shaped pieces of wood about six inches in length, flat on one side and slightly rounded on the other. This performance he repeated two or three times, muttering a prayer the while, until they fell on the ground in a certain position, when—the omens being appa- rently auspicious — the kneeling man im- mediately arose and commenced the ascent, climbing slowly from one keen knife-edge to the next, while the great crowd watched in awe - struck — silence. One snap-shot on the previous page shows the devotee half-way up the ladder. The ascent took AY THE TOP—HERE THE DEVOTEE BLEW A SILVER TRUMPET, SANG, From a} THE DEVOTEE LEAVING THE LADDEK AFTER INS DARING CLIMP—THE, AUTHOK VolCHES FOR THE KERNNESS OF THE KNIFE-RLADES AND THE FACE IMAT THE MAN RECEIVED NO INJURY, oom a Phete, AND FRAVED FOR THE PEOPLE BELOW, (koto. sonally testify. Arrived at the top of the ladder the man sat down on a little platform, and there he stayed for the best part of an hour, blowing a small silver trumpet, sing- ing chants, and pray- ing for the people below, whilst at the base of the structure a number of women fired crackers, burned joss- sticks, incense, and imitation money, and prayed for the safety of the man who was apparently voluntarily risking so much for their sake. ‘The whole ceremony was peculiarly weird and impressive, and it is safe to say that few white men would venture to undertake a barefoot climb to the top of that knife- edged ladder, while it is practically certain that anyone who had the temerity to try would be injured.

Page 338

Frou a\ Astill more bloodthirsty-looking arrangement, and warranted to inspire even greater awe, is the bill - hook orsickle ladder szen in the last photo- graphs, where well-sharpened sickles take the place of the _ straight- bladed rungs. Much the same sort of performance is gone through in connection with this as with the knife- ladder. It will be seen, how- ever, by refer- ring to the last illustration, that instead of the devotee clutching the blade above with his hands, as in the knife- ladder, there is a rail tied to each side of Vol. xviii. 42. CLIMBING A LADDER OF KNIVES. WOMEN BURNING JOSS-STICKS AND PRAYING FOR THE CLIMBER'S SAFETY, 329 (Photo. the upright pole for him to draw himself up by. At the foot of this ladder the ceremony THE AWE-INSPIRING BILL-HOOK From a) LADDER, A DEVOTEE SCALING THE WELL SHAKPENED ULADES. (Photo, before the ascent was practically identical with that . already described, ex- cepting that twoducks were sacrificed in place of the chickens. In this case too I could not sce that the clim- ber received the — slightest injury, though the keenness of the sickles was beyond doubt. The Chinese are indeed a remarkable people; and this is not the least re- markable of their many strange — festi- vals.

Page 339

| THE HERMIT OF PINE CREEK. | ToLp BY SERGEANT JAMES THORNABY, LATE OF THE NEw SouTH WALES MOUNTED PoLicE, AND SET DOWN BY ERNEsT A. CouTTs. The “Hermit of Pine Creek” was a mystery. Apparently a gentleman, he yet lived entirely alone in a miserable hovel in the Australian bush. At last the narrator received instructions to arrest him, and during the exciting events which followed the ‘ Hermit's” romantic history came to light.- WAY back in the early seventies, when the Australian bush was a sort of no man’s land, unknown even to those who had settled on the fringe of it, it was the refuge of many a desperate criminal who had fled from justice. Absconding bank - clerks, fraudulent lawyers, thieves, and murderers all headed in that direction when the down-country settle- ments became too hot for them. They dis- appeared into it, and, for the most part, nothing was heard of them again. While I was serving in the New South Wales police, first as a trooper and afterwards as a sergeant, it fell to my lot to hunt down many of these bush refugees ; or, at least, to try and track them to the lair where they were concealed. It was rarely, however, that I met with any success. ‘The bush had terrors which they litle expected when they plunged so desperately into it, and it killed most of them off like flies. Apart from criminals, there were others to be found in the bush—just one or two at most— for whose presence there no one living was able to account. ‘They were mysteries. So far as was known, there was nothing whatever against them, no reason on earth why they should hide away in this manner, unless it was some queer freak on their part, or something that had caused them to shun the society of their fellow-men. I have known a few such cases in my time, and very extraordinary cases they were, too. But the strangest of all to my mind was that of the man who was known as the “ Hermit of Pine Creek.” Who he was, or what he was, I cannot tell you —-at least, I could not have told you when I first heard of him. All I knew was that there began to be some talk of a mysterious stranger who had been seen once or twice in the bush, and who, from the vague reports which reached us about him, appeared to be a sort of “wild man of the woods.” All kinds of rumours were afloat concerning him. No one seemed to know where his habitation was—if he had any—or how he lived. There were different stories even as to the kind of man he was, or what he was like to look at. Finally he was ‘located. It was found that, like a beaver, he had built a little wooden hut on the borders of Pine Creek, or, to be more exact, on the side of the slope that rose up from it. It was a lonely enough spot in all con- science, with a tangle of scrub and _ trees round it, and yet it seemed to suit the fancy of our unknown friend. How he contrived to live was a mystery ; unless, indeed, he had some secret means of communication with one of the distant townships. Blacks and half-castes were often engaged in this way, for they slipped in and out of the bush with- out attracting any great attention, and it seemed more than likely it was in some such manner he obtained his supplies. I was stationed at the time at a little township on the border of the bush about a score of miles away. Rightly speaking, it could scarcely be called a township, for it was nothing more than a straggle of wooden and corrugated iron buildings, most of the latter having been brought up-country in sections and erected on the spot. In addition, it had a ‘ public,” a small branch bank, and the police barrack. From this place—Taroona was the name of it—I often had to push far into the bush on some duty or other. Sometimes my way led me past Pine Creek, and on such occasions I always kept a sharp look-out for the mysterious stranger who inhabited the lonely hut there. Only once, however, did I succeed in catching sight of him. I well remember the time, and the surprise I got when I first laid eyes on him. I was riding back to the station one after- noon when I happened to find myself near the ~ place, and went a little out of my way to pass it. T walked my horse slowly along the far edge of the creek ; and then, as the rough little wooden hut on the slope above came into view, I looked up. ‘There, standing on the patch of ground which he had levelled before it, was the man

Page 340

THE HERMIT OF himself. The sight of him, as I said just now, was no small surprise to me. It was more than a surprise, in fact, for seldom in my life had I been so astonished. Instead of the insignificant, rat-like creature PINE CREEK. 431 his heel and strode into his hut. I was thank- ful, I can tell you, that I had not come out with a warrant for his arrest, for I had little doubt that he would prove an uncommonly ugly customer to tackle. ““THERR, STANDING ON A PATCH OF GROUND WHICH HE HAD LEVELLED, WAS THE MAN HIMSELF.” I had half expected to see, I beheld a man of the most magnificent build and stature ; a man, too, in the prime of life, with long, muscular limbs and a bushy, black beard. His great hands rested on the handle of an axe, for he had been engaged in clearing away the scrub in front of his hut and making a broad passage down to the creek ; his shirt-sleeves were rolled back, displaying his brawny, hairy arms. And there he stood, watching me with no very friendly eye—a man who, for some mysterious reason, had cut himself off from the world and the society of his fellow-men. I took a good, long look at him, you may be sure, for there were other points of interest about him besides those I have mentioned. My curiosity, however, seemed to touch him on the raw, for he bent his. black brows and scowled fiercely down upon me. ‘Then, with a sudden twist of his body, he turned abruptly on . barrack, holding a couple of horses. When I got back to the station that evening I saw at once that there was ‘something up.” A strange trooper was standing outside the One of them was his own; the other, a fine-spirited animal, with a handsome saddle and _ bridle, evidently belonged to an officer. I knew what it meant; the chief had come up from Ballina on one of his surprise visits to the outlying stations, and dropped in upon us unexpectedly. I went inside and found him overhauling the station books with the sergeant and receiving his reports. The troopers who stood around, in- cluding myself, waited at attention until he had finished his inspection ; and then, queerly enough, a question cropped up in which I had a direct interest. We had talked a good deal among ourselves of the “ Hermit of Pine Creek,” as he was generally called, and I suppose some of our gossip filtered

Page 341

332 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. through to the stations down- country. It must have reached the ears of the chief, for he suddenly turned to Sergeant Kennaway. “By the way,” he said, “what is this talk about a mysterious stranger living in the bush yonder ?” “What stranger, sir?” asked the sergeant. “The ‘Hermit,’ I think they call him—the ‘Hermit of Pine Creek.’ ” “There is such a man, sir, I believe,” replied Sergeant Kennaway. ‘ Nobody around here, though, appears to know who he is, or anything about him. As far as I can make out, he’s a mystery.” “Have any of you ever seen him?” “TI have, sir,” I said, step- ping forward. The chief and Sergeant Kennaway both turned to me. “When did you see him?” asked the former. “No later than this very afternoon, sir. I was riding back that way, and caught sight of him standing before his hut as I passed.” “What sort of a man is he?” “A tall, fine-looking man, sir, with a thick black beard and fierce eyes.” “ Not an ordinary bushman, I suppose ?” “No, sir; he looked to me more as if he had been a gentleman.” “A gentleman!” said the chief, raising his eyebrows, and in a queer kind of tone. He asked no further questions, but I saw him biting and gnawing his grey moustache, a sure sign that he was puzzled. He appeared to have got hold of some hard nut to crack. Whatever idea may have been in his mind, however, he did not let out even a hint about it. He mounted his horse and rode off, leaving us wondering if he suspected who this stranger really was, or had any private information about him. One morning, about a week later, Sergeant Kennaway was preparing to start off with one or two troopers on the track of some cattle-lifters who had been at work in the neighbourhood the night before. “Just as he got to the door an orderly-trooper rode in from Ballina and handed him a despatch. He read it, turned back into the barrack, and came jingling and tramping into the guard-room. From his look we knew there was something important in the wind “ARREST THE MAN KNOWN AS THE ‘HERMIT OF PINE CREEK. “ Well,” he said, surveying us a trifle grimly, I thought, “here’s a nice little job for some of ou.” “What is it, sergeant?” we asked. “Here’s a despatch from the chief,” he answered, shaking the paper in his hand. “It’s short and to the point, as usual. It simply says: ‘Arrest the man known as the “ Hermit of Pine Creek,” and detain him in custody until I arrive. Important.’ That’s all.” Arrest the “ Hermit of Pine Creek”! Capture that black-bearded giant! Why, if he showed fight, as I had little doubt he would, it would take three or four of us at least to secure him. I could not help wondering, too, for what reason he was “wanted.” The grizzly old sergeant looked round upon us again in the same grim sort of way. From the description I had given of the stranger, he was well aware that his arrest would prove a very ticklish and likely enough a dangerous task. “T can’t spare more than two of you for the job,” he said.“ We're short-handed enough as it is, for I must be off myself at once after those cattle-lifters. You, Thornaby,” he went on, turning to me, “had better make one. You have seen the man, and can’t mistake him again. Take Sherlock here with you, and be sure to bring the ‘Hermit’ in handcuffed before sun- down.”

Page 342

THE HERMIT OF It was easy enough to talk ; but if Kennaway ° had seen the man himself, and knew what a very determined-looking character he appeared to be, he might not have spoken in quite such an off-hand way. However, there was nothing for it but for the pair of us to take the road towards Pine Creek without delay, and try to make the best job we could of the business. ‘The heat was great that day, and the window of the guard-room stood wide open while we were talking. Lolling against the wall close to it, basking himself in the sun, was a rascally half caste, a fellow whom I had often seen hanging about the station. Happening to glance through the window just then, I saw him straighten his back, stretch himself lazily, yawn, and slouch off in his hangdog fashion. I took little notice of it at the time, and yet I had reason to recall the incident before many hours had passed. We buckled on our belts, Sherlock and I, looked to our arms, and a few minutes later were riding together in the direction of Pine Creek. On the way I cogitated the best plan we could adopt in order to effect our purpose quietly and safely. ‘The more I thought of it, however, the less I liked the look of things. There was certain to be a terrible shindy before we sccured our man; unless, indeed, we were able to take him by surprise, or trap him by means of some trick or other. Besides, I could have wished for a more experienced and reliable companion than Sherlock. He was more or less a raw recruit — plucky enough, but not skilled in the ways of the bush, and with no great head on his shoulders at any. time. We walked our horses a good part’ of the way ; for I had not yet made up my mind what plan to adopt or how to set about the task before us. I wished soon that we had gone straight to the creek at a gallop; for when we arrived at last within sight of the hut we found a very disconcerting surprise awaiting us. The stranger, it was plain, had received warning of our approach, and was prepared to make a bold stand against us. He was posted, as on the previous occasion when J had seen him, on the little platform in front of his hut. His face wore a most deter- mined look, and his brawny arm rested lightly upon the muzzle of a rifle, while a long, ugly- looking revolver was thrust into his belt. Alto- gether, he presented a most formidable appear- ance, and one which might well make us pause before venturing to approach too near. That he had a follower of some kind, who was secretly in his pay, I had suspected all along, and now I had proof of it. Skulking in the background, and peeping out from behind his tall figure, was the rascally half-caste I had PINE CREEK. 333 seen outside the barrack window some hours before! The fellow had evidently overheard what was said, and hurried away to give warning that we were coming. We halted down below at the edge of the creek, got off our horses, and then—well, we were fairly brought to a stand. For the moment I did not know exactly what move to make next. Any little plans I had formed on the way tumbled to the ground at sight of the threaten- ing figure before us. To climb those few yards of rocky slope which separated us from the hut seemed to be stepping towards certain death. From ‘the look on the stranger’s face I knew that he was prepared to offer a desperate resist- ance, and would not hesitate to shoot us dead in our tracks if we persisted in the attempt to arrest him, I breathed a word or two in Sherlock’s ear, told him to keep close at my heels, and turned boldly towards the slope. Making it appear as if I did not notice the man’s determined attitude, and taking no particular heed of the rifle or revolver, I stepped in the “ Hermit’s” direction, all the time secretly keeping a watchful eye upon him. My approach was soon cut short. J had not taken half-a-dozen steps towards him when he whipped up his rifle and extended his long arm. “Stand!” he called out, peremptorily. “‘ What do you want ?” “Only just a word or two with you,” I answered. “ A word or two about what ?” “T will explain that when I get up.” “You will explain from where you are now he retorted. “‘ Not a step further, or. ” He handled his rifle in an ugly manner as he spoke, and I saw plainly enough that to advance another step was to lay myself open to a bullet at close range. I was fairly held up. I found myself in a fix-— a desperate fix ; not knowing whether to risk it and make a bold dash for the man, or try to parley with him. And then, while I was still in doubt, a bright idea struck me. “Ah!” I said, suddenly, pointing away up the creek. ‘Here comes the chief himself He will explain better than I can. Look! You can see him riding in and out among the bushes yonder.” It was a trick to throw him off his guard and it succeeded. ‘The man turned his head quickly and looked away up the creek. It was only for a second or two, but it gave me the opening I wanted. In an instant I had bounded up the slope and sprang in upon him. When he saw his mistake and felt my gnp something like a roar of rage escaped his lips. Dropping his useless rifle he grappled with me 1»

Page 343

334 THE Wibe WORLD MAGAZINE. furiously. His long, sinewy arms were twined around me, hugging me in an em- brace like that of a bear, and in an instant he had whipped me clean off the ground. ‘Though I was fairly strong myself I was no more than a child in his hands. The chances were dead against me, and one thing only saved me from being hurled headlong down the slope. I knew a little about wrestling—more than a little, in’ fact—for at that time there were few men in the Colonies who could keep their feet against me for five minutes. I had learnt a few other tricks, too, which came in very handy in a struggle of this kind, and now put one of them into practice. Diving my head suddenly under the man’s arm, I managed to wriggle out of his grip, at the same time heaving him clean over my back. I heard a dull thud behind me as he fell. I swung round at once, and was on to him again likea shot; but there was no need to worry further ; the fall had stunned him. The only danger now was from the half-caste, who, with a snarl and a gleam of his savage eye, made for me with a murderous-looking knife. Fortunately “NOT A STEP FURTHER, OK——" Sherlock was at hand, and met him with a blow that knocked him off his feet. We lost no time in slipping the handcuffs on our prisoner. He seemed so dazed when we raised him from the ground that I thought I could safely leave him for a moment. * I wanted to have a look round his hut before we started back, and slipped inside for this purpose. It was a dark, miser- able little place, and so far as I could see there was nothing in it of the smallest interest. Just as I was about to leave, however, my eye fell upon something hanging on the wall which brought me across the floor in two strides. It was a long, framed photograph—the photograph of a beautiful young girl in a sort of evening dress, — which seemed strangely out of place in this bush hovel. I did not touch it. I gazed at it with a sort of wondering reverence, for, somehow, I felt that there was some sad story at- tached to it. That this girl was in some way the cause of the “Hermit” forsaking home and friends, and taking to the solitude of the bush, I had little doubt. When I got outside I found that the half-caste had slipped away while my back was turned. Sherlock was keeping careful guard over the prisoner, who still looked dazed and confused by his fall, and hardly seemed to know yet what had happened. We led him away down the slope, set him astride one of the horses, and headed back for the station. , On the way he gave us little trouble. During the whole time he never once opened his lips, or took the slightest notice of either of us. He seemed to be brooding darkly over something — something that we knew nothing about—and had no thought to spare for anything outside it. It was late when we got back, and we found that Sergeant Kennaway had already returned. He was standing straddle-legged at the door of the barrack, smoking his pipe, and took a long, steady look at our prisoner as we came up. le

Page 344

THE HERMIT OF PINE CREEK. 435 “Ah! so you have got him, I see,” he said. “That's right. Bring him in, The chief will be here presently ; he sent on word to say he was coming.” We dismounted the prisoner and led him to the guard-room, in which we intended to confine him until the chief arrived. Before we withdrew we tried to make him speak, but we might as well have spared ourselves the trouble. We could not get a word out of him. He’ sat morosely there, his hand- cuffed wrists rest- ing on his knees, ‘bis black brows bent, and brooding in the same dark, gloomy way. About an hour later the chief rode up. To our sur- prise he was not alone. He was accompanied by a stranger;astranger, too, who seemed to belong to his own class, but in other respects was very different. He was a lanky, sandy- haired man, with a twist in one of his pale eyes, and a very disagreeable expression. I con- fess that 1 was not taken with him—in fact, I have seldom seen a man that I liked the look of less. There seemed to me to be something mean, spiteful, and revengeful about him. I noticed, too, that the chief was careful to keep him at arm’s length, as if not over-pleased with his company. He turned his back upon him as they dismounted from their horses, and addressed himself to Sergeant Kennaway. “Well, have you succeeded in making that arrest?” he asked. “Yes, sir,” replied the sergeant. the man here.” “Where is he?” “In the guard-room, sir.” ‘The chief looked round at the stranger, who was listening with his ears cocked and a kind of eager expression on his face. “You will have to accompany us to the “We have “(1 MANAGED TO WKIGGLE OUT OF HIS GRIP, AT THE SAME TIME HEAVING HIM CLEAN OVEK MY HACK.” guard-room, Mr. Lechemore,” he said, coldly. “Tt will be necessary for you to identify the prisoner.” Mr. Lechemore, whoever he was, did not seem to relish the idea exactly. He stammered out some sort of excuse, looking as if he would willingly have kept discreetly in the background. But the chief in- sisted ; and after some little hesita- tion he followed him towards the guard-room. Sergeant Kenna- way opened the door and all three entered. Being curious to see what took place I fol- lowed them as far as the door, and stood there while they interviewed the prisoner. ‘The guard-room was pretty dark by this time, and you could see little of the moody figure seated on a bench in the far corner. Thechiefadvanced towards the man with his bold step, ~ and took a good look at him. Then he drew a little aside to make way for the stranger. “Ts this the man?” he asked. Mr. Lechemore, who appeared to be rather near-sighted, had to venture pretty close before he could make out the prisoner’s features. “Yes,” I heard him say, in a kind of gloating way. “That is the man.” The sound of his voice seemed to have an extraordinary effect on the prisoner. It was almost as if he had been stung. He raised his head with a quick jerk and glared in a sort of fierce surprise at the man before him. ‘Then, with a hoarse, terrible cry, he bounded to his feet, lifted his handcuffed wrists high into the air, and brought the heavy irons down with a crash on the stranger’s head. Lechemore dropped to the ground as if he had been pole-axed. There was a hubbub and a scene, of course : for so great was the force of the blow that we

Page 345

336 ; THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. almost thought the man was killed. I dashed into the room and pushed back the prisoner, whose eyes were blazing in a terrible manner, and whose look plainly meant murder. While 1 restrained him, the chief and all I have heard, I don’t wonder our friend in there tried to dash his brains out. The beginning of the whole affair and the connection between the two men took place a good many years ago over in England. It is a strange and in many “HE LIFTED HIS HANDCUFFED WRISTS HIGH INTO THE AIR AND BROUGHT THE HEAVY IRONS DOWN WITH A CRASH.” Sergeant Kennaway picked up Lechemore and carried him limply from the room. His head was lolling helplessly from side to side, and he moaned as if he had been half-killed. ‘They took him across to the ‘ public,” where they left him in charge of the landlord, and returned to the barrack. The chief sent over to inquire after Lechemore later on, and in a few minutes the messenger came back to say he was gone. We learnt afterwards that no sooner had he recovered a little than he stole out, mounted his horse, and rode away in a panic. “Well, Iam not altogether sorry,” remarked the chief, when he heard the news. “I cannot say I have much sympathy with the man.” “Who is this Mr. Lechemore, sir?” asked old Sergeant Kennaway, who, like the rest of us, wanted to hear what was at the back of it all. “A man I heartily dislike,” replied the chief, who now seemed more inclined to talk, “ From ways a terrible story. Our friend in there—I won’t mention his name, though I happen to know it—comes of a good family in the Old Country. I will call him the captain ; for, litle as you may think it, he once served in a famous Lancer regiment. By all accounts, he was a wild, reckless, daring fellow, as headstrong as an unbroken horse. He was always getting into some scrape or other, though I never heard he had been guilty of anything dishonourable. Owing to his wild ways he was practically dis- owned by his family, who looked upon him as one who had brought discredit upon an old and respected name. “ He fell in love with a very beautiful girl, the daughter of a proud old country squire, who would have nothing to say to him on account of his reputation. ‘The old man’s prejudice was fed by this fellow Lechemore, who was some sort of a relation, and who wanted to win the girl himself.

Page 346

THE HERMIT OF PINE CREEK. 337 “ Lechemore took care that everything which could possibly tell against his rival should reach the ears of the girl’s father. All the captain’s wild doings were painted in the blackest light. He succeeded in poisoning the mind of the old squire, who forbade his daughter to hold any further communication with our friend the captain. “The girl, however, as is often the case, loved this wild but handsome officer, and could not banish him from her heart so easily. They continued to meet in secret. | Lechemore suspected it, and in his mean, underhand way he spied upon them. It was not long before he witnessed one of these stolen meetings. The sight must have maddened him; for he darted out upon them, taxed the girl with her deceit and disobedience, as he called it, and declared that he would reveal her conduct to her father. “There was a scene, I believe, and a scene that ended in a terrible tragedy. The girl wept; the captain turned furiously upon Lechemore, as if with the intention of strangling him on the spot. The latter, frightened by his fierce look, sprang back and pulled out a revolver to protect himself. By some fatal mischance it went off in his shaky hand—and shot the girl ! “What followed exactly I never learned, but Lechemore contrived somehow to fasten the blame on his rival. He declared it was the captain who had fired the fatal shot; that it was aimed at himself, and struck the girl instead. The ownership of the revolver could not be traced—nor, indeed, was the weapon ever found —for Lechemore must have taken care to make away with it. “The account he gave of the affair was generally believed; the captain’s hot-headed and reckless disposition was well known, and the reputation he had gained was not likely to assist him in a case of this kind, so that it was a well- nigh impossible task for him to clear himself. He must have been driven to despair, too, by the death of the girl, for he disappeared almost immediately. Before he did so he gave a true version of the affair to a friend, through whom it reached me. “But he did something else. Maddened by his loss and by Lechemore’s villainy, he lay in wait for the latter, attacked him in the most deadly manner, and very nearly killed him out- right. ‘Then he fled, escaped to the Colonies, and soon afterwards took to a lonely life in the bush. “ Lechemore’s thoughts, I believe, were always set upon tracing him and making him pay the penalty of that murderous attack. Though much of a coward, as you have scen, he was spiteful and vindictive—the sort of man who would track an enemy to the ends of the earth if it promised him a safe revenge. How he discovered that the captain had sought refuge in this part of the world I cannot say. At any rate, he followed him out here. “At Sydney, where’ he seemed to have a good deal of influence with the authorities, he obtained a warrant for his arrest. A description of the man wanted was forwarded to all the principal stations up-country, with orders to search for and arrest him. “T had heard some talk about the stranger who inhabited a lonely hut at Pine Creek, and suspected it was the same man. I made a report accordingly, and received word to arrest him without delay. Lechemore himself came up, eager to see him handcuffed and in custody. “Though Lechemore has now fled, frightened out of his life by this second attack upon him, we must still keep a firm hold upon the prisoner. Iam half sorry for it, but we shall have to send him down-country under guard, and hand him over to the authorities at Sydney.” But, as it turned out, we did xof keep a hold on him. That very night there was a sudden and mysterious outbreak of fire at the barrack, which required all our efforts to subdue it, and in the smoke and confusion the prisoner managed to escape. We had little doubt after- wards that the fire was the work of his half-caste follower, who had resorted to this means of setting him at liberty. Nothing was ever seen or heard of the captain afterwards. He disappeared once more into the depths of the bush; and there, for all I know to the contrary, he may be living to the present day. Vol. xviti.-- 43,

Page 347

MY MOTOR-TRIP TO CONSTANTINOPLE. By Ronerr L. Jerrerson, F.R.G.S., Author of “To Constantinople on a Bicycle,” “* Across Siberia on a Bicycle,” “A New Ride to Khiva,” ete., etc. This exclusively-written narrative of Mr. Jefferson's novel and adventurous motor-journey across the Balkans, through Servia, Bulgaria, and Turkey, to Constantinople, will be of great interest to our readers, many of whom will remember the author's daring cycle ride to Khiva, described in these pages a few years ago. Mr. Jefferson was the first man to drive an automobile in Turkey, motoring being strictly prohibited in the Ottoman Empire. It was only when His Majesty the Sultan granted a special Imperial irade that the author was allowed to cross the frontier on his car and successfully complete his record trip. Ses) NCE in Turkey, to our great astonish- ment we found the road excellent in every respect. It was broad and smooth, with scarcely a stone to mar its dead level. We were filled not only with surprise, but with joy, for this was the best going we had struck since leaving Germany, and high hopes were entertained that, by some extraordinary freak, the ‘Turkish Government, had built a road like this all the way to Constantinople. A quarter of an hour’s excellent running brought the tall minarets and round domes of the several mosques of Mustafa Pasha into view, and soon we bumped slowly over the huge rough stones which formed the paving of this little town, What a change it was from Bulgaria! Here we saw the Turk in all bis Oriental surroundings. But, phlegmatic and disdainful of the Christian as the Moslem usually is, the sight of an equipage which apparently possessed no method of propulsion, grinding slowly along, excited even in him the wildest of curiosity. From every shop, from every house, poured the people, and a mass of red fezzes lined the street. ‘The younger of the populace howled with surprise, while be-spectacled sheikhs stood gravely contemplating the extraordinary sight. I had some idea of reaching Adrianople in the evening, but so good was the road that a capital pace was maintained, and midday had scarcely passed when away in the distance we saw the minarets and mosques ef the ancient capital of ‘Turkey. On the big stone bridge which spans the Tundja and Maritza confluence we paused a moment to enjoy the magnificent spectacle which Adrianople presented—a great cluster of red- tiled houses, above which rose innumerable minarets and the domes of many mosques. We heeded not the clamour around us—and the clamour was great, for somehow our pro- jected advent had become advertised, and we found people awaiting us. It was only with great difficulty that I managed to steer the car through the dense throng of people, and once the city was entered the scene became one of pandemonium. ‘The streets were paved with huge stones, and on either side the wooden houses leaned over toward each other, so that the thoroughfare was more like an alley than a street. Imagine, then, in this narrow “gut,” a motor-car slowly throbbing its way through a mass of people so firmly wedged in from side to side that there was, apparently, not an inch of room to spare. Again and again the radiator of the car pushed back some more than usually enter- prising Moslem, while turbans and fezzes were waved, shouts and shricks rent the air, and behind us, some of them hanging on to the car, the crowd followed up. It was a long time before we debouched into the main street, and here, wedged in by the crowd, were three officers on horseback, evi- dently awaiting our arrival. But the mob recked little of their authority. Several people were knocked down in the general mé/ée which prevailed, but ultimately the officers closed in around the car, and we were piloted to the Hotel American. Once in the courtyard of this caravanserai, little time was lost in getting the car under cover, but unfortunately it was impossible to find a closed stable, and the courtyard con- sequently became, in less than a minute, utterly and impassably congested with inquisitive Adrianoplites. Perforce, we had to abandon the car to their critical inspection, glad, indeed, to get our belongings into the hotel. Policemen arrived and endeavoured to quell the disturb-

Page 348

MY MOTOR-TRIP TO CONSTANTINOPLE. SH YOUN From a Photo. ance, but although they were in considerable numbers they failed entirely to disperse the enormous crowd which packed the courtyard. The thing I feared most was fire. We had sufficient petrol with us to burn Adrianople to the ground, and if some injudicious ‘Turk hap- pened to get at the spirit anything might happen. The proprietor of the hotel was a Greek, who fortunately spokeGerman. That he was delighted to be our host was evident by his demeanour. Everything that was possible for our comfort he did for us, and I verily believe that this was one of the finest field days for his business he had ever experienced. As we sat at our meal we were surrounded by people, ten deep, who solemnly watched us as we ate, whispering to each other and pointing their forefingers now and again. Meanwhile, the news of our arrival had flown far and wide, and hundreds of people flocked into the vicinity of the hotel to gaze upon the strangers and their weird conveyance. When we ventured forth, later on in the day, in order to take a few snap-shots, crowds followed us, so that even the two zapfiehs who were detailed to see that we came to no harm had the greatest difficulty in keeping us from being almost run to earth. The urbane proprietor of the hotel confided to me, later on, his great gratification at housing this, the first motor-car that had ever visited Adrianople. Circuses they had had, said he; they had even had concerts and theatrical GSTE CH INTERESTED 339 performances; they had had Armenian massacres ; and, only recently, half the city had been burned down; but he solemnly assured me that none of these occurrences had created half so much excitement as the extra- ordinary vehicle which now re- posed under a shed in his court- yard. That evening I saw Captain Arthur Townsend, British Vice- Consul to the vilayet of Adrian- ople. Since the Macedonian trouble in the Adrianople dis- trict the British Government has found it necessary to maintain a Consulate, where formerly the interests of Great Britain were KS looked after by one of the foreign ‘ Legations. Although the actual seat of the Macedonian trouble is some distance from Adrianople, the latter vilayet has been the scene of innumerable outrages. Quite recently many semi - Bulgarian and Mace- donian villages near Kirk Kilissah had been raided, while reprisals against the Turks had been of weekly occurrence. This is not a political article, and I do not propose to give any history of the troubles in Macedonia, but no doubt was left in my mind that I was entering upon a section of my tour which might be very interesting. From Adrianople to the borderland of the vilayet of Tchataldja, about three days’ journey, I should pass over the country which only a few months before had been the scene of many encounters between Turk and Macedonian. I learned, however, that the Turkish authorities did not intend me to come to any harm. As a matter of fact the Vali of Adrianople, as soon as he heard of my arrival, sent word that under no circumstances could I be permitted to pass through Baba Eski and the villages and towns beyond without a mounted escort. I was somewhat dismayed at this, because the road from the frontier had been so good that, if its continuance could be assured, the horsemen would be a great encumbrance to me, while I was fain to think that the stories about the Macedonian insurgents were considerably exaggerated. We were up early the next day, but not too early for the “unspeakable Turk.” He came in his thousands to cheer us on our way, while as a parting send-off some of the more juvenile of the Osmanli race hurled garbage profusely.

Page 349

340 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. But when fairly out of the city I set the engine going to a good tune, and settled the car down for the day's drive. The first place we struck was the little village of Hafza, and here a mounted gendarme pointed out the way to us with his rifle. In the village itself we found the street lined with soldiers, who saluted as the car bumped over the stones. The road now began to deteriorate alarmingly and the pace necessarily decreased. Darkness was coming on when we were still some distance from Baba Eski. Then on the crown of a hill we came across a knot of mounted soldiery. Each musket went up to the salute as we slowly made our way up to them, and then, without a word, they closed in around the car. I was compelled to slow down to about six miles an hour. Two soldiers preceded the car, one rode on either side, and the rest brought up the rear. It was indeed a most imposing array, and when we reached the minarets of Baba Eski I could see with half a glance that Baba Eski meant to do its best in the way of welcome. The entire population was waiting on the out- skirts of the town, but the local garrison did its best to keep it in order—a duty right well per- formed, though there was many a cracked head ’ from rifle-butt and many a strained rib from the playful jab of a scabbard. At the gates of the big brick house, where resided the Governor of Baba Eski, I was bidden to stop; and here the Governor himself, an aged but affable gentle- man, was waiting to receive me. He touched breast, lips, and fore- head in the Turkish salaam, and bade me welcome. Speaking in French, he asked me if I was satisfied with the manner in which his soldiery had behaved, and then told me that quarters had been arranged for us in the house of a Greek merchant, there being no inn in Baba Eski fit to stay in. We drank ‘Turkish coffee out of tiny cups in the divan of this hos- pitable Governor, and smoked real Turkish cigarettes, while the Governor himself sat on his cushions solemnly puffing at his narghile. There was a grand send-off the next day, but when I asked the Governor to allow me to dispense with the services of the two saptiehs -—who since six o'clock had been awaiting our coming—he would not hear of it. His instruc tions from Constantinople were that all the time T was under his charge no harm must belall me, N N y)} Sb and the two zapfiehs must therefore accompany the car. : It was well that they did, for, ten kilometres from the little town, the road, which had been getting gradually worse and worse, ceased altogether. Away ahead, over the brown treeless moors, there stretched a series of deep wheel- tracks in the grass and rubble. All idea of a made road had ended, and I learned that from this point until Constantinople was reached the car would have to plough its way over a land-track. The passage across the Balkan mountains and over that Turkish land-track constituted, in my opinion, the stiffest portions of the journey. What I feared with regard to the latter was that deep mud would prevent the wheels from re- volving or affording any “bite.” As a matter of fact, scarcely had we left the last trace of the stone road than the car sank almost up to the hubs in a mud-hole. Round and round raced the back wheels, but not an inch could we move forward, while we sank deeper and deeper every moment. Fe The zaptrehs looked upon us in our predica- ment with that indifferent stolidity which is characteristic of the Turk. They knew not, and probably cared not, what was the matter. I pantomimed to them, intimating, to the best of my ability, that to go forward was impossible. Something would have to be done to get the car out of the mud-hole. hdbbdddher SSS

Page 350

e MY MOTOR-TRIP TO CONSTANTINOPLE. 341 Then to our great gratification there came, wandering over the moorland, a gang of gipsies —a_picturesquely - attired but sinister - looking mob. They speedily surrounded the car, and I at once solicited their help in order to get the vehicle out of its predicament. Promises of liberal baksheesh had the desired effect, and, with the aid of more than twenty pairs of hands, the car was lifted Yi LITLILT TI bodily from the mire f” on to dry land once VY) : more. But after that it was a painful and tedious drive. Again and again the car became stuck. Once or twice we hitched on the two horses to drag the car out of some hole or another, and it took the whole of one long day to cover little more than twelve kilometres. I had hoped to reach Lulé Bergas at midday, but night was falling before that town came in sight, and on the outskirts we found the Governor of the town- ship waiting for us in SSS SSS SSS LL THE ESCORT WATCHING THE STRANDED CAR WITH TRUE TURKISH PHILOSOPHY. From a Photo. THE GIPSIFS HELPING THE MOTOR OUT OF THE MUD. From a Photo. his carriage, with more sol- diers and another huge mob. There was similar formal ceremony as at Baba -Eski, and again comfortable quar” ters had been assigned us. I must indeed put it on record that nothing could exceed the kindness and hospitality of the ‘Turkish authorities to whom I had been recommended ; but I was soon to find out that, while the Turkish Govern- ment was doing its level best to see that I came to no harm, it was, at the same time, determined that I did not poke or pry into any of its secrets. When I evinced a desire for a walk ‘that evening, the Governor oblig- ingly put at my disposal a couple of armed soldiers; in fact, whenever and wherever my engineer and myself-ventured it was to be shadowed by a son of the Faithful, whose ostensible object was to protect us. Early the next morning, while my engineer was busily removing the accumulations of mud from the car, I took my camera and slipped off unobserved. I was anxious to take one or two photographs, particularly of the quaint bazaar, past which we had proceeded the previous

Page 351

342 THE WIDE WORLD evening. I secured several good snap - shots, and ulti- mately came to what looked like the entrance to a mosque, for over the low roofs I could see the domes and minarets ; but in front of the stone gate- way were a couple of soldiers, standing at ease, rifles in hand. The picture was ex- tremely” Oriental, and I was preparing to snap-shot when suddenly I heard a voice be- hind me and was jerked vio- lently away. Then came a word of command, and_in- stantly the two soldiers at the gateway presented arms. Looking round for my assailant, I saw an_ officer whose black eyes — glared fiercely at. me, while, point- ing at my camera, he uttered the one word “Yok!” (“No!”). My footsteps had evidently been dogged, so, feeling somewhat crestfallen, I returned to the Governor’s house, followed by the officer, who saw me safely inside the gateway, and then took up his station at the entrance. Three saptiehs took us as far as the little town of Karisshtiran, and I was gratified to find that the land-track was dry, making a very fair Tunning surface providing that one was careful to avoid the huge ruts. I had been told that From a} A SCENE ON THE ‘LAND-TRACK” ACROSS THE TURKISH MOORS. fron: a Photo. MAGAZINE. SOMETHING LIKE A RUT. (Photo. more zaffiehs would await us here, but we had evidently arrived before our time and found that, as the feast of Ramazan was in progress, the total population of the little place was at its devotions in the mosque, As this afforded an excellent excuse for getting rid of the sapiehs, I baksheeshed them liberally, and intimated that it was my intention to proceed without any escort. They were very loath, however, to let me go, imploring me to wait until the head man of the village could be brought from the mosque. I purposely pretended to misunderstand them, and having kept the engine running I mounted the car and with no further comment drove off. One of them started his horse after us, but he soon gave up the pur- suit in disgust when he found that the car was faster than he had conceived, even in his wildest dreams. We made Tchorlu that night, and evidently took the town by surprise, for there were no waiting soldiers, no deferential Governor, no mob. How- ever, we had not been in its streets a minute before we were surrounded. My repeated inquiries for a mehana (inn) met with no response, and then at length the inevitable soldiers ap- peared, cleared the crowd from the car, and gave way to one who was evidently an officer. He received me in no gracious mood. “Why,” he demanded, “had we left Karisshtiran without escort?”

Page 352

MY MOTOR-TRIP TO CONSTANTINOPLE. 343 As they could not tell which way we had come, there being two tracks from Karisshtiran, gendarmes had been scouring the country in search of us, and here we had arrived without so much as a single horseman. We were evidently in for it, and it was clear that this officer did not intend to let us go very much farther without military escort, for he promptly mounted the car himself, while my engineer sat on the step, and directed me to drive to the Governor’s house. But the Governor was far from being irate ; he was affability itself, and seemed greatly relieved to know we had arrived thus far safely. We had coffee and cigar- ettes, and then hied to the quar- ters appointed, to learn from _ the zealous officer who had us in charge that we should soon be clear of the vilayet of Adrianople, and that less than ten kilometres away we should enter the province of ‘Tchataldja. A couple of officers took us out next day some five kilometres and there left us. The road became slightly better and we were wheel- ing rapidly along, when away to the left, on the brow of a hill, I saw a solemn-looking stone building, and thought I detected the glint of bayonets in its vicinity. It was probably the outpost of the province, but, with less than seventy kilometres between us and Constanti- nople, 1 had conceived a wild project of endeavouring to reach my, journey’s end that day. So I took no notice of the stone building of military aspect, and ground steadily on for about three or four kilometres. ‘Then a shout from my engineer intimated the fact that we were pursued. Half-a-dozen soldiers were galloping from the stone hoase, evidently endeavouring to head us off. I put on the best pace possible, but the road, as luck would have it, became vile, and in ten minutes or so we were overtaken. With tiles unslung, and evidently ready for any desperate deed, the Moslems rode straight for the car. One, evidently in command, shouted TESTING A TUMBLEDOWN BRIDGE KEPORR VENTURING TO CROSS, From a Phote, to me to stop, and, having no alternative, I obeyed. “Passport,” he yelled, waving his weapon almost in my face. Meanwhile the others dis- mounted and laid hands upon the car. But I had something better than the passport, and from my letter-bag extracted the Imperial trade, written in Turkish. A sight of the Imperial seal, and the imperative written command to allow me to pass without hindrance, was enough for this truculent Turk. In an_ instant his bellicose demeanour vanished. Thrice his hand went to breast, lips, .and__ fore- head, while he bowed and bowed again; then, at a word of command, the horsemen formed themselves to- gether and _ gal- loped back to their quarters. I certainly would have paused in Silivria, which we reached half an hour later, had it not been for the attitude of the people. I stopped in the main street, and, in the few words of Turkish at my command, asked for the house of the Governor ; but the mob was dense, and one officer to whom I spoke actually spat at the car and then-turned his back upon it. So I set the wheels going again, and, wsé or no zvsé for my passport, pushed on towards Constantinople. Two or three kilometres had been bumped slowly over when Robert, who was now on the qui vive for eventualities, shouted that we were again pursued. Up the Tong hill we had just climbed came a mob of galloping soldiers. It was hopeless to endeavour to outdistance them, so wretched was the road, so I slowed the car down to a standstill, but kept the engine running. These fresh assailants were, if anything, more aggressive than the last. They rode straight at the car, and almost over it, while so great was their excitement that I feared they might be tempted to do something desperate. But the engine of my car served me in better stead than an armful of revolvers, for, having never seen motor-cars before, the horses took a sudden and uncontrollable dislike to mine.

Page 353

344 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. In a trice three of the soldiers were unseated ; one got his leg entangled in the stirrup and went bumping over the ground at a merry pace. For about a minute no act out of a circus could have been more comic than the one presented to us. But the leader of the soldiers managed to retain his seat, pointing with his rifle in the direc- tion of Silivria, while he shouted for me to put back. Then came his demands for passport and teskeri, until at length his horse became un- manageable and he himself went sprawling to the earth. In the meantime Silivria began to empty itself, and came up the hillside at the double— men on horseback, men, women, and children on foot, until we were surrounded hundreds or more deep. A fussy little individual, in a very tattered military coat and wearing a very dirty fez, then pushed his way to the front. He spoke in Turkish, and I replied that I did not speak that language. Then, in French, he intimated that I must go back to Silivria at once. ‘This I countered by informing him that I intended to do no such thing. He de- manded my _pass- port, but this I refused to show him. He demanded the teskeri, and I replied by offering the svade. Once more there was an instantaneous transformation. He had pulled out his pocket-book, evi- dently to copy out the wording of the document, but he dropped the book as soon as he realized what it was he held ; and in an instant his hand went to the salaam. ‘The scattered soldiers were gathered together and commanded to clear a road through the crowd, and, putting my gear in mesh once more, the car headed towards the Sea of Marmora, which we could discern shining away on our right. Here and there from Tchorlu we had come across remains of the ancient Roman road, which originally passed through Turkey to the north, and now, from Silivria, we had to plough over its villainous surface. It was clearly From a) ON THE OLD ROMAN KOAD. evident that since the Romans had abandoned Turkey no efforts had been made to repair that ancient highway. Bushes and grass grew as high as the top of the wheels. Huge holes, into which the car lurched with considerable force, occasionally threatened complete disable- ment; but with the sea on one side and the brown, rolling hills of Turkey on the other, we were glad enough to make any sort of progress. The afternoon was well on by the time we came to the great stone bridge of Tchboj ‘Tchekmedshe, where less than twenty kilo- metres separated us from our goal. Ruined mosques and fountains now bordered the way, and we passed through one or two little Greek villages, where the simple inhabitants viewed our coming with profoundest astonishment. Once we got stuck in the middle of a small stream, and again had to solicit the aid of the natives to haul us out. I was now all excitement to get the journey over; to catch a glimpse of that city towards which we had been toiling for over thirty days. Passing through a deserted Turkish graveyard, where broken head-stones lay in every direc- tion, the car lurched badly, even as a ter- rific bang warned me that one of the tyres had burst. All hope of reach- ing our destination before nightfall had now to be aban- doned. Darkness had fallen before the tyre was repaired and our wheels running again, but it was an eerie drive over that moorland, knowing not what was before us. Twinkling lights soon appeared in the distance, and we rumbled slowly over a bridge into the village of Kulé ‘Tchekmedshe, too late for any mob to gather, but early enough to secure accommodation in the tiny mehana, With only twelve kilometres to cover, the journey to Constantinople was now practically accomplished, but those twelve kilometres were as hard as any we had yet achieved. There were steep hills and deep gullies, mud and sand and huge stones, so that we could only proceed at about five miles an hour. Once I caught the [ Photo.

Page 354

MY MOTOR-TRIP TO CONSTANTINOPLE. 345 glint of the sun’s rays on what was undoubtedly a minaret in the distance ; and suddenly, when rounding a bend in the road, the panorama of Constantinople and the shining Bosphorus lay spread before us. We paused a moment at the crumbling Adrianople gate to take photographs, and then the first motor-car to travel on Turkish soil bumped its way down the long, narrow streets of old Stamboul. THE END OF THE RECORD JOURNEY—THR ARRIVAL OF THE MOTOR AT CONSTANTIN CROSS THE TURKISH FRONTIER. From a) Stamboul gave us the heartiest of welcomes, and hundreds of people accompanied us right to the foot of the Galata Bridge. Here I willingly paid four piastres to the collector, and away we went over the rattling planks to Galata. Up the long hill we swept, past the Ottoman Bank and the British Club, to pull up at length in front of the Pera Palace Hotel in the midst of the biggest crowd which had so far gathered. I must confess that I was very glad the journey was over, for on several occasions in the Balkans and over the dirt-tracks of ‘l'urkey the successful accomplishment of the drive had seemed more than problematical. While not so exhausting as my bicycle ride to Constanti- nople, the motor-drive was a considerably more anxious time. There are so many possibilities of things going wrong in a motor-car, while extremely bad roads, no bridges over streams, and precipitous heights are greater obstacles to the motor than to the bicycle, since the latter Ss IA ) THE FIRST CAR TO (Photo. can be pushed, or at the worst carried, when difficulties are encountered. I met with a warm reception from the British colony in Constantinople, and I was implored during the few days I stayed in the city to bring the car out in order to “astonish the natives ” ; but the object of my adventure had been attained. The first motor-car to be driven across the Balkan peninsula into Turkey had been a British one, and with this knowledge I rested content. Tue Enp. Vol. xviii.—44,

Page 355

OUR DEAL IN CATTLE. THE STORY OF A RISKY ENTERPRISE. By Ravpu A. DuRanp. The author and his partner thought to take advantage of a cattle famine in Rhodesia, and to that end travelled out into the wilds in search of cheap native beasts. They found them; but before they got them to market they went through some curious and exciting experiences. meee) HE rinderpest that » M4 swept across Southern Rhodesia in 1895, with the native rebellion that followed, combined to decimate the herds of cattle possessed both by natives and whites in that country. For this reason, when peace had been concluded in 1897, a great demand arose for cattle for breeding and slaughter purposes. Oxen in Salisbury fetched any price up to thirty pounds per head, and, as it was rumoured that near the Zambesi cattle could be purchased from the natives for thirty shillings or two pounds apiece, many speculators set out in different directions north- wards in quest of cattle with which to supply the demand. It was an adventurous undertaking, in which the possibility of great profits compen- sated for great financial risks. Some people, who had the luck to buy cattle before they had gone far afield, made within one or two months a profit of eight or nine hundred per cent. on the capital they had invested. Others wandered about the country without any luck, and ex- hausted their resources in travelling expenses before they were able to buy enough cattle to make it worth their while to turn their faces homewards. It was hazardous, too, because the Salisbury market was small and_ easily giutted, and a cattle-trader who arrived in Salisbury immediately on the heels of another ran the risk of finding that there was tem- porarily no demand whatever for his stock. In a new country, however, one does not look for gilt-edged securities, and he who is not pre- pared to take a sporting chance should stay at home and invest his money in Consols. An account of how I risked my small capital in cattle-trading, how I failed, how I tried to retrieve my fortune by a daring stroke of busi- ness, and how, to my intense surprise, I was nearly prosecuted on a criminal charge in conse- quence, may serve to illustrate the risks incurred by those who engaged in this trade. I had a partner in my undertaking, but I withhold his name, as I do not know if he would approve my mentioning it in connection with an action which I considered perfectly honest, but which the law regarded as criminal. As soon as the dry season of 1897 was over my partner and I hired carriers to carry our personal effects, stowed two hundred sovereigns into the pouches of our waist-belts, and pro- ceeded on foot to Tete, a Portuguese settlement on the Zambesi, some three hundred miles north-east of Salisbury, which we reached in about eighteen days. ‘The Portuguese mer- chants there had, to use a colloquial expression, “seen us coming.” ‘They contrived to prevent the natives selling us cattle, and demanded so high a price for their own that we decided to go farther afield. We therefore exchanged our gold for trade goods—cloth, beads, axe-heads, soap, brass-wire, and other articles that take the place of currency in that part of Africa—paid off the men who had accompanied us that far, and hired fresh carriers. Then we crossed the river and travelled in a north-westerly direction, through a country sparsely inhabited but well stocked with game, towards the territory of a powerful native chief named Mpeseni. After travelling for nineteen days, for the last five of which we saw no signs of human habita- tion, we arrived at a village on the outskirts of this chiefs territory. Unfortunately for us Mpeseni had, a few days before, declared war against the world in general, and our entry into the village was: hailed with shouts of derisive laughter from the young men, who no doubt saw something exceedingly humorous in the idea of two white men, practically unarmed and possessing fifty loads of valuable booty, un- suspectingly placing themselves in their power. It was some time before we understood what was the matter, but when the uproar had some- what subsided, and the village headman had explained the joke to our interpreter, half of our carriers threw down their loads and bolted for their lives. Confronted with such a situation, the hero of a novel would have rallied his men and turned the tables by some sudden and daring strategic movement. My partner and I, however, lacked the necessary military genius, and, knowing that in dealing with African savages no weapon is so valuable as tact and a little judicious bluff, we gladly consented to consider ourselves prisoners

Page 356

OUR DEAL until our captors had had time to discuss the novel situation, We managed to convey to the headman a vague threat that awful retribution would in some way or other fall on him and his village if he dared to harm us, and then we retired to a hut that was offered us to pass the night as pleasantly as the circumstances would permit. Meanwhile the elders gathered together in the council-hut of the village, and the young warriors, decked in full war-costume of monkey-skin aprons and feather head- dresses, swaggered about, brandishing their weapons, rattling their spears on their shields, chanting songs in praise of their own valour, and explaining with horrible details what they would do to us when they began hostilities. Our sleep, if we had tried to sleep that night, would have been disturbed by the shouts of the men, who gave vent to their high spirits by abusing and threatening us whenever they passed our hut, and by the noise that proceeded from the council-hut, where, apparently, the decision as to our fate was involving a consider- able amount of heated argument. What took place there it is, of course, impossible to say. Perhaps the elders, not being as yet involved in “OUR ENTRY INTO THE VILLAGE WAS HAILED WITH SHOUTS OF DERISIVE LAUGHTER FROM THE YOUNG MEN.” IN CATTLE. 347 actual war, hesi- tated to commit a hostile action that would be irrevoc- able ; possibly our warning had some effect ; or perhaps they thought it would be un- sportsmanlike to kill men who were at their mercy. At any rate, to our great surprise, the headman next morning an- nounced that he would give us a day in which to get out of his reach, after which his protection would be with- drawn. He even allowed us to take away as much of our trade stuff as could be carried by the men who still remained with us. We thanked him, made him a magnificent — pre- sent (from the goods we were obliged to abandon), called our men together, and set out for the horizon as fast as we could go. From Mpeseni’s country we travelled east- wards, because British settlements, and conse- quently British protection, lay in that direction. Near the south end of Lake Nyassa we met a small detachment of Sikhs under British officers hurrying to discuss matters with Mpeseni, so, conciuding that we were out of danger from pursuit, we pitched camp and announced to the natives in the neighbourhood that we wished to buy cattle. By this time the capital with which we had started our enterprise had considerably dimin- ished. Travelling in this part of Africa, which must be accomplished on foot with a large retinue of men to carry food, tents, cooking utensils, bedding, and trade goods, is almost as expensive, mile for mile, as a voyage in a private yacht. The journey from Salisbury to Mpeseni’s country had occupied seven weeks, and during this time we had to pay for our carriers’ food with a portion of the trade goods that we had with us. Half of what remained had been abandoned when we bolted from Mpeseni’s

Page 357

348 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. country, and consequently, when we pitched camp in Nyassaland, we had not much more than a third of our original capital with which to maintain ourselves while there, buy cattle, and pay the expenses of the five-hundred-mile journey back to Salisbury. When we had been told that cattle were to be obtained on the north side of the Zambesi at prices ranging between thirty shillings and two pounds per head, we had thought that our informants referred to cattle such as Europeans have introduced into South Africa. We found, on the contrary, that the only cattle procurable were weedy little animals, humped like the Indian zebu, and not much larger than donkeys ; and we realized that we should be lucky to get ten pounds a head for them, instead of the twenty- five pounds for which we had hoped. We bought them, however, such as they were, spending for this purpose all that remained of our trade goods, except what we required to pay for our food and that of our men on the return journey. Eight or nine weeks after we had passed through Tete, indulging in dreams of five hundred per cent. profit on our outlay, we returned, ragged and crestfallen, with thirty head of diminutive cattle —just enough, if we were very lucky, to barely return us our capital and pay the actual expenses of our trip. When we reached the north bank of the Zambesi, opposite ‘Tete, it was necessary to arrange for the transport of our cattle across the river. We therefore left them in charge of our native herdmen and carriers, crossed the river by canoe, and proceeded to the store of the Companhia da Zam- besia, where one can buy anything, from gold-dust and ivory to cooking-pots and tinned provisions. The manager, Senhor Martinho, received us cordially, called for vinho tinto and glasses, and __ intro- duced us to a gentle- man named Senhor Carraras da Silva as wealthy English cattle- merchants! Senhor Carraras, with informed us, in the grandiloquent, gracious manner of Southern Europe, that we were just the people he was looking for. He was, he told us, retiring from business, with the in- tention of returning to Portugal. He had realized most of his estate, but had not yet found a purchaser for some cattle which, under the circumstances, he was prepared to sell at a low figure. We had, of course, no idea of buying them, for the sutficient reason that we had no money left, but we agreed to look at his cattle because, as we wished to obtain credit for a few necessaries from the Companhia da Zambesia, we thought it advisable to maintain the 7d/e of “wealthy cattle-merchants ” in the eyes of the company’s manager. Senhor Carraras then called for more wine and some cigars, gave an order, and soon thirty head of fine European oxen—large and in good condition—were driven up to the store for our inspection. “What price do you ask, senhor ?” said I. “Thirty thousand reis (five pounds) each, senhors, if you do not think it too much,” he replied. ‘Too much! These cattle were as good as any that we had seen sold on the Salisbury market. I looked at Senhor Carraras to see if he were joking ; but undervaluing anything he offers for sale is not a form of humour in which many compliments, “WHAT PRICE DO YOU ASK, SENHOR?' SAID 1.”

Page 358

OUR DEAL IN CATTLE. 349 a Portuguese merchant usually indulges. The offer of them at that price might be translated into English as “take them or leave them.” ‘There was nothing further to be said. I could not temporize by saying the price was high or that the cattle were poor in condition, so I put Senhor Carraras off by saying that we would see him again, and, Senhor Martinho having promised to send a barge next day for the transport of our cattle, my partner and I returned to our camp on the north bank. We were very silent that night, for we felt it to be hard luck that the admirable oppor- tunity afforded by the offer of Senhor Carraras’s cattle, an offer that would have turned our enterprise from failure to success if we could have availed ourselves of it, should come too late. Judging by the prices which cattle fetched four months before in Salisbury, we estimated that these cattle would there fetch at least twenty pounds apiece, and at that rate givea clear profit of four hundred and fifty pounds, for—could we have bought them—we could have driven them to Salisbury with the cattle we already had without engaging any additional natives and, therefore, without adding to the working expenses of the journey. Long after we had turned in for the night I cogitated the matter, and at last a bold scheme presented itself to me. Postal communication between Tete and Salisbury was slow and un- certain. The mail left ‘ete every fortnight, being carried down to the coast ‘by river steamer to connect with an ocean steamer at Chinde, by which it was carried to Beira, whence it pro- ceeded to Salisbury by train and coach. ‘The time required for a letter posted at Tete to reach Salisbury was thus not less than ten days, and frequently as much as twenty- four days, for the Zambesi river steamers were often so much delayed by the shallow- ness of the river that they arrived at the coast after the ocean steamers, which could only cross the Chinde bar at the spring tides, had left for Beira. The journey overland from Tete to Salisbury could, however, be accomplished in twenty days, if one maintained a pace of fifteen miles a day. If, therefore, we gave Senhor Carraras a cheque after the fortnightly mail had left, it might just be possible to reach Salisbury, sell the cattle, and pay the money they fetched into my bank before the cheque was presented. I woke up my partner and asked what he thought of my plan. We had very little know- ledge of business methods, but we had a vague notion that it was quite usual for financiers to buy stocks for which they could not immediately pay, if they were fairly certain of being able to square their accounts on demand. We tried to consider any possible disaster that might upset the scheme, but the more we thought of it the more the chance of making our expedition successful seemed to outweigh all disadvantages. My partner had no money at all, but I had left about a couple of pounds in my bank to keep the account open, and fortunately had my cheque-book with me. Finally we decided to take the risk, and went to sleep feeling that we already had the four hundred and fifty pounds safe in our pockets, little dreaming that by the course we proposed to take we rendered our- selves liable to criminal prosecution. During the next few days we had ample opportunity of experiencing the Portuguese dis- like of doing anything that can be postponed till the next day. The barge that we required for the transport of our cattle did not arrive for several days, and each time we tried to stir up Senhor Martinho about it he smiled blandly, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “ Patience, senhors ; you shall have it without fail to-morrow.” Mean- while we had to exercise considerable ingenuity in evading a direct settlement with Senhor Carraras, who, unlike Senhor Martinho, con- sidered that there was no time like the present. At last the promised barge arrived, and we were able to begin preparations for ferrying our cattle across the river. The fortnightly mail left the same day, so, after the day’s work, we visited Senhor Carraras, closed with his offer, and gave him a cheque drawn in favour of his agent in Salisbury., Immediately there occurred the first of a series of petty, unforeseen disasters that threatened to upset our scheme. ‘The barge that Senhor Martinho lent us was a rickety old derelict that would have been condemned at sight by a Lloyd’s agent. We moored it alongside the bank, built a gangway with planks that we had borrowed with the barge, and cheerfully drove a part of the herd towards it. I had had con- siderable experience in the handling of cattle in Queensland, and did not anticipate much diffi- culty, but I had not sufficiently considered that my assistants were not Australian stockmen, but raw African natives, with a contempt for scien- tific methods where brute force could be used. As we drove the first instalment of cattle down to the barge they yelled so lustily that I could not make myself heard. ‘Then, when the cattle hesitated at the gangway, instead of letting them think it over for a minute, they rushed at them and belaboured them with sticks, with the inevitable result that a beast turned and broke back to the rest of the herd. I shouted to them to let it go and con- centrate their attention on the others, but they

Page 359

350 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. did not or would not hear, and pursued it with wild cries, assisted by all the curs that had the good fortune to be present. Meanwhile the other cattle, which had just begun to enter the barge, turned and trotted up the bank again. I called the men together, gave them a short lecture on cattle management, and tried again, but without success. Always at the critical moment they allowed the cattle to break away, and after two hours’ hard work not a single beast had been embarked. My headman then suggested that we should try the methods to which he was accustomed. I consented, and sat down to watch how he would manage. He drew the barge toa place where the bank sloped gradually into shallow water, and then, calling his men_ together, singled out a beast and made a rush at it. The men seized it by the horns, tail, legs, or any- where they could, dragged it bellowing into the shallow water, and hoisted it by main strength into the barge, where one man sat on its head while the others returned to repeat the opera- tion. In ten minutes the barge was full, and I so that he had been able to send a messenger to her with the letter containing my cheque. ‘This was a blow, although there was still a chance, of course, that the river steamer on her journey down the river would waste enough time aground on sandbanks to miss connection with the ocean steamer at Chinde. If so, all was well, for, although we had already lost consider- able time in waiting for the barge, we might still reach Salisbury before the cheque. If, on the other hand, the river steamer had a good trip and caught the Chinde boat it was no use to hurry, for we could not possibly get to Salisbury in time to save the cheque from being dishonoured. Our situation provided an ample topic for conversation over our evening camp-fires, when we discussed the state of the river at that period of the year, the prevalence of sandbanks, and the average amount of mishap that river steamers encounter; and, though inspired by the kindliest feelings towards those who navigate the Zambesi, we earnestly hoped that in this particular in- stance every form of disaster that involved delay . would overtake the was compelled to acknowledge the superiority of matter over mind. When we took leave of Senhor Carraras over a parting glass he mentioned casually that the mail steamer, soon after starting, had stuck on a sandbank about fifteen miles down the river, THEY HOISTED IT BY MAIN STRENGTH INTO THE BARGE.” steamer that carried Senhor Carraras’s fatal letter. We had yet another reason for gloom two days after leaving Tete. A cattle-trader going northwards pitched his camp alongside ours and told us that prices for cattle in Salisbury had fallen twenty-five per cent. In return for this bad news we had the melancholy con- solation of showing him how small and weedy were the native cattle, rumours of the cheapness of which had inspired him, as it had inspired us, with hopes of magnificent profits. The first half of the road between ‘Tete and Salisbury lies southwards along the fertile valley of the Ruenya, after traversing which we knew we must strike westwards across high and, at this season of the year, comparatively barren plains. In the Ruenya valley the natives had just harvested their grain, leaving the stalks of

Page 360

OUR DEAL maize and millet standing in the fields. These corn-stalks, though of no value to the natives, afforded excellent food for our cattle, and there- fore, knowing that the grass on the highlands would be scanty and dry, we traversed this part of the road as slowly as we dared. Our journey was enlivened by the unwelcome attentions of a pair of lions, which followed us up and compelled us to keep a careful guard over the cattle. Night after night the watchman aroused us, and we heard the great beasts moving slowly through the brushwood round and round our camp ; and though our cattle were enclosed each night ina strong fence, surrounded by large fires, we felt it advisable to rise and keep awake so long as our unwelcome visitors stayed. We should very much have liked to try a shot at them, but we were travelling not for sport but for profit, and dared not risk it, for we knew that, if we fired at one of them and failed to kill or disable it at the first shot, it would probably charge, whereupon the cattle would break through the fence and stampede, half of them being lamed and the other half scattered over the countryside. We tried to get even with the beasts by staying behind each morning, after the camp had been broken up and the cattle sent onahead, watch- ing a tethered goat on the chance of get- ting a shot, but they did not fall into the trap, and eventually we shook them off by crossing the river and following a less suitable path on the other side. Soon after crossing the border between Portuguese and British territory we had to leave the valley and strike upwards towards the plateau on which Salisbury is situated. Henceforward we travelled as fast as pos- sible, not only “A LION SUDDENLY APPEARED ON IN CATTLE. 351 because we were racing the mail, but because the grass was now poor and water scarce, and it was important to put the cattle on the market before they lost the advantage of the rich food they had had in the Ruenya valley. Our guide chose a route past frequent pools of water which, he assured us, never failed. As often as not we found them as dry as a rock. The guide, not in the least disconcerted, explained this by saying that the pools were obviously bewitched, an explanation which we had to accept, though we felt that some measures ought to be taken to counteract the undue power that witches seem to possess in this country. One day we met with another small mishap. A lion suddenly appeared at midday standing on a rock overlooking the path. My partner and I had gone on ahead with the carriers to prepare the camp, but the herd boys, who were as plucky as one could wish, managed with horrible yells to drive it away, not, however, before the cattle had stampeded. As a result of this three of our best oxen became lame, and, as some of the small native cattle we had brought from Mashonaland began to show signs that the pace was too much for them, we decided to divide the herd, I going on to Salisbury with a ne 24 Mi el Y ay, Lt sae = ie * > Se SKE {phe A’ ROCK OVERLOOKING THE PATH." Google O Digitized b

Page 361

352 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. : the strongest cattle and my partner following with the stragglers. Hitherto our trip from ‘Tete had been as successful as could reasonably be expected, and my only anxiety was whether or not we had succeeded in travelling more quickly than Senhor Carraras’s letter. I was, however, to receive an unpleasant reminder of the proverb about the best-laid schemes of mice and men. Soon after leaving my partner I passed the station of a native commissioner, who entertained me hospit- ably, but sent a runner ahead to the Salisbury authorities to report my movements. As a result of this, while still twenty miles from Salisbury I received by native runner an official letter stating that, owing to a suspected case of rinderpest among some cattle thirty miles on the other side of the town, my cattle were to come no nearer, were to go into quarantine, and were to be herded on a vacant farm allotment on which at this season of the year I knew there was not as much grass as would feed a goat ! This misfortune seemed to decide the race between us and the mail, but I decided not to give in until I had made one more effort to save the situation. I directed the herd boys and carriers to take the cattle to the place assigned to us and pitch camp there, while I pushed on to Salisbury to see what could be done. I arrived in the town late that evening, very tired and footsore. Entering the nearest hotel—only those who have wandered beyond the fringe of civilization will fully sympathize—I called for a glass of beer, a beverage I had not tasted for nearly four months. ‘There was a group of Mashonaland police in the bar ; one of them, a personal friend of mine, whom for a reason that will be obvious I will only refer to as ‘Trooper X—-—, gave me a very curt nod and left the room. A few minutes afterwards the barman whispered to me that a friend wished to speak to me in the stable. Much mystified, I went out and there found ‘Trooper X——. On my inquiring why he had sent for me in such a mysterious way, he answered, “ You silly ass! Why haven’t you got more sense than to show up ina public place like this? You can thank your stars I’m off duty, but if you have any business to do you had better not let me find you in the morning. I’ve got a warrant out against you!” “A warrant!” I exclaimed, aghast. for?” “Why, it seems that you have given some Johnny a cheque without having any funds to mect it, and he is prosecuting you on a criminal charge.” So Carraras's letter had won the race! I explained the whole business to ‘Trooper X-—, “What who admitted that, under the circumstances, it was “a bit stiff” to bring a criminal action against me, and, like a good fellow, promised to delay serving the warrant as long as possible. ‘The town of Salisbury is divided into two parts, known as the Causeway side and the Kopje side, the former occupied by Government build- ings and residences, the latter by business houses and stores. The trooper kindly promised to devote the next morning to a thorough search of the Causeway side, in order that I might have as much time as possible to interview business men and butchers on the Kopje side of the town, At an early hour next day I visited the principal butcher in the town, and as my position was so weak—I had to sell at all costs, and naturally did not wish him to know it —I adopted the practice known to poker players as “bluffing.” I opened negotiations by announcing that I had come to give him the chance of a lifetime, that I had for sale two small herds of cattle, one practically arrived and one on the road, and that if he would give me a fair price for the first herd he should have the first chance to buy the second. He replied by saying that traders wanted such high prices for ,cattle that it deprived butchers of any chance of profits; that, in fact, he was seriously considering the advisability of abandoning his business and going on the road himself. He went on to point out that our cattle, of the movements of which he had somehow got information, were in quarantine, that they would inevitably lose flesh after their long journey, and that he would be happy to consider my proposal after the quarantine restrictions had been removed. I replied that the second herd was not yet in quarantine, that I should stop it and send it back to the richer grass of the low country till a more favourable opportunity for putting them on the market occurred, and that as for the first herd, if we could not come to terms, I would slaughter them myself and hawk the meat round Salisbury at less than the market price. Eventually he promised to ride out and have a look at the cattle in quarantine, and I set off for my camp, taking care to avoid that part of the town where I should be in danger of meeting ‘Trooper X ——. ‘The butcher rode out to my camp next day, and, after some haggling, offered me twelve pounds a head for the lot, which numbered thirty in all, and included most of the big oxen which we had bought from) Senhor Carraras. ‘This price was very different from the one with which we had indulged our imaginations ; but the fall in the market price of cattle, the mis- fortune of having to keep them in quarantine,

Page 362

OUR DEAL IN CATTLE. 353 and, above all, the warrant that Trooper X—— had against me compelled me to accept it. No sooner had we concluded the bargain than a cloud of dust heralded the approach of the second herd, which had followed faster than I had anticipated. Seeing that I had pretended they were much farther behind me, I felt that I owed the butcher an explanation. I therefore de- cided to throw my cards on the table, took him into my confidence, related the whole story of the cheque and the warrant, and told him that, though I would have accepted practically any price for the first herd, now, having his cheque in my pocket, I could afford to hold out. He laughed a good deal at the story, and being in a good humour promised to have a look at the new arrivals. My partner then joined us, and after I had taken him aside and explained the situation the three of us walked over to where the cattle were grazing. This second herd was made up, with the exception of the three big oxen that had been lamed, of the small humped cattle that we had bought from the natives. They were already beginning to show signs that the scantiness of the grass after the rich feed to which they were accustomed was distressing them. The skin around their humps was loose and baggy, and altogether they presented a very woebegone appearance. Vol. xviii. - 45, HE OFFEKED ME TWELVE POUNDS A HEAD FOR THE LOT.” When, therefore, the butcher offered us seven pounds a head for them, with the stipulation that he should be reimbursed the price of any beast that developed signs of having been bitten by tsetse fly (neither he nor we had any fear of rinder- pest), we decided that it would be better to accept it than to have the worry of keeping them on poor grass till the quarantine restrictions had been re- moved. We paid his cheques into the bank, and had a stormy interview with Senhor Carraras’s agent, who we thought had acted too hastily, and another with the bank manager for marking the cheque “No effects” instead of “ Insufficient funds,” thus giving the holder of the cheque an opportunity to prosecute. Then we composed a polite note to Senhor Carraras, the tenor of which was “ All’s well that ends well,” and took the earliest opportunity of warmly thanking Trooper X——, without whose kindly hint we should have been in an exceedingly unpleasant situation. When we settled up accounts we found that, although our rosy dreams of five hundred per cent. profit had not been realized, we had not done so badly after all. Our original capital had been two hundred pounds, and the working expenses of the trip, wages of herdmen and carriers, food, etc, amounted to about one hundred pounds. We had, therefore, a sum of one hundred and seventy pounds to divide between us as profit. For this sum we had gone through a good deal of hardship, hunger, and thirst, had had a certain amount of malarial fever, had experienced one anxious night when our lives depended on the goodwill of a native chief, and had been in considerable danger of losing all our capital, not to mention our liberty. On the other hand, we had enjoyed plenty of fun and adventure, a little sport, many new experiences, and the joy of pitting our wits against adversity, though none of these things can be valued in precise terms of pounds, shillings, and pence. Digitized ty GOO | *

Page 363

A Lady in Far Fiji. By BraTRICE GRIMSHAW. An entertaining account of a journey through the wonderful hinterland of Fiji—a trip never before undertaken by a white woman. Pessimists who had never been ten miles into the interior frophesied all sorts of disasters; but, nevertheless, Miss Grimshaw pluckily set off, knowing nothing of the language, and escorted by only three native attendants. Many strange experiences—both exciting and amusing— fell to her lot, and these she describes and illustrates in captivating fashion in the following articles, which have been specially and exclusively written for ‘‘ The Wide World Magazine. ] STAYED in the little village over Sunday, and a_ very _ interesting Sunday it was. At daybreak the “Jali,” or canoe-shaped wooden drum, was beaten, and the natives held prayers in their own houses, first praying and then singing Fijian hymns—loud, deter- mined, sonorous chants that sounded much more _ like war-songs than pious petitions. Three times during the day they assembled in the church, a large native house, for more praying and singing; and again at night they held prayers in their own houses. No work was done ex- cept cooking yams and_ killing a_ pig for a feast in honour of my arrival. The women dressed themselves aily in green, pink, and lilac tunics and sulus; the men all turned out in spot- less white sulus and shirts. It was evident that the religious exercises of the day were thoroughly to their tastes, and not at all too long. Fijians simply cannot be bored, and one of their favourite occupations at all times is sitting down on the mats in rows to From a) THE ENTRANCE Il. chant in chorus, for many hours at a stretch, about anything and everything that may come into their heads. As for an unlucky white person entrapped into a Fijian church, he must simply endure as best he may until it is over. He will not want to go twice. In the afternoon everybody lay about on the mats, both sexes rolling and smoking endless cigarettes made of Fijian tobacco wrapped up in a slip of banana leaf, and chatting rather lazily and sleepily. Next morning, when the sun was just lifting above the hills, I mounted and rode away. I cannot make a pen- picture of the day’s ride that followed. Enough to say that it was very lovely, and that my mind was almost wearied with beauty before that thirty-mile march was ended. There were other things to think of besides the scenery, however. The track was mostly red clay and slippery as greased glass. My good Aus- tralian horse, Tanewa, civilly declined to carry me over any spot he knew he could negotiate better without my weight. Once, at the top A FIJIAN HOUSE, (Photo. Digitized ty GOORTe Cc

Page 364

A LADY IN FAR FIJI. 355 of a long down-slope that looked safe enough, I urged him on after he had stopped. He grunted, and went forward under protest, pick- ing his way carefully, for the path was but a foot or two wide, and there was a big, unprotected drop into a mountain gorge on the off-side. Suddenly he struck a slide of red clay, treacher- ously hidden by leaves. Away went his hind legs, and with a louder grunt than ever he sat down on the slope like a horse in a circus, his forelegs squarely planted in front, his hind hoofs tucked under the girths. Most horses would have snorted and struggled and probably rolled over the precipice ; but Tanewa, as cool as a green cocoanut (there are no cucumbers indigenous to Fiji), merely turned round his head to look at me as I sat on his uncomfortably-sloped back, saying, as’ plainly as a horse could say, “Who was right? I suppose you will get off now?” I did get off, feeling very apologetic, and the good Australian rose deliberately to his four feet and pursued his way downwards, quite unmoved, By this time word of our coming had gone round the whole countryside, and at every village we came to the same ceremony took place. I would jump Tanewa over the pig- bars and cross the green, desirous only of getting away (for the path invariably led right through the villages). The Turanga ni Koro, in a clean white shirt and sulu, would rush out at the sound of hoofs and waylay my men. Then Manassa, all one grin, would approach me and begin — “ Missi Ngrims’aw ! “Yes?” “ Turanga ni Koro, he say toa (fowl) an’ yam in the pire, pish (fish) he cook. He like you stop ki-ki (eat).” Then the Turanga ni Koro would sotinig 1 lead the way to his house, install me on a new- mat, specially unrolled, and enjoy a good gossip with my men. Enter the murdered fowl and the inevitable yam, perhaps a steaming leaf-ful of plump river-prawns as well. I would cut a small piece off the fowl and eat it for manners’ sake, while my men, after I had done, would joyfully rend the remains limb from limb and devour every bit, not to speak of a trifle of five or six pounds of yam apiece. Then I would make the Turanga ni Koro a small present, for courtesy’s sake, and call a fresh start. After four feasts of this kind, counting the morning meal at Nambuknya, I began to reflect that neither Stanley, Burton, nor Speke would have allowed his men to make themselves sick with over-eating—for even a Fijian can eat himself sick on animal food, which he does not often get—and I resolved to put a stop to it. I wished very much, however, that Stanley had been around to tell me how to do it. I had an idea that he generally hanged his followers when they disobeyed him, but I had never hanged anyone, or even seen it done, which was certainly a difficulty. There is nothing like travel in rough countries for teaching you your own deficiencies, as I had already learned. Under the circumstances, the best thing to do seemed simply to decline to stop at any more villages, and I did, though the disappointed faces of the people I left behind me almost shook my resolution. ‘The plan seemed to be working all right, and I was getting rapidly on towards the Singatoka Valley, when, a mile or so after we had crossed a river where a party of natives were cooking yams on the bank, I missed Joni and Nasoni. “Where are those men?” sternly. Manassa, with an ingratiating smile, replied, “T think they stopping along water, get some- sings to eat !” ‘This was the last straw. I gave Manassa my opinion of himself, in what the popular novelists call “ fine nervous English ” (it must have been, because it obviously made him nervous as to what might be coming next), and told him that it was entirely his fault for letting the men stay ; also, that I would not give them any tobacco- money for the next Indian store, or any more stray handfuls of sugar to eat on the road ; and that I was going to ride on now and let them follow as they liked. The country road growing more level, I put Tanewa to a canter, and kept him at it for a good while. As a result, the three men were very tired and hot when they caught me up later in the day, and looked rather peni- I demanded, tent. I was glad, on the whole, that I had not hanged them, especially when I heard Nasoni remark with a chuckle to Joni that they would get plenty of roast pig at Natuatnathoko, where we were tu stop the night—for it seemed to me that Nature herself would probably attend to the matter of their extermination before very long. We were nearing Natuatnathoko now, a mountain fortress town in the very heart of the highlands. ‘The Singatoka River lay on our right ; the hills were behind and before, but we were travelling now over a stretch of rich, level meadow country, where the fine soft grass rose waist-deep on either side, and the road itself was a wide, turfy avenue, bordered here and there by splendid orange and lemon trees in full fruit. By and by the track took a sharp turn upwards. We were leaving the river valley, to ascend the strange little hill on which the town stands as upon a tower. Now the grassy road became

Page 365

356 5 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. steep and stony, and the orange trees almost closed in overhead. And on each side, as I rode along, bushy crotons and dracenas, scarlet, and black, and yellow, made a quaintly orna- mental hedge, while tall guavas shot above them, and dangled great golden eggs, bursting with the richness of the luscious pink pulp within, right over my lap. I accepted the generous invitation freely, and in the rear I heard a crunching and sucking that told me the ever- hungry Joni and Nasoni were “at it again.” Well they might be, for nowhere in Fiji are oranges and guavas like these to be found. Higher up, and still higher! The path was neatly , edged with stones | and partly paved, but the horse scram- bled and _ clattered a good deal, for the way was steep. Groves of exquisite bamboo, orange, and lemon shut in the track, so that one could see little ahead. But suddenly the way opened out, and before me stood an immense Fijian house, seventy or eighty feet high, the great roof crowded with men who were re-thatch- ing it, aided by a scaffolding of bam- boo. They raised a yell that made even the sedate 'Tanewa start and shy, and shook their knives in the blue air, high up under the sky. Then they began to scramble down the house like cats or flies, and made a rush for me and my men. Even so, thirty years ago, had the fathers of these men—some of the elders themselves, indeed— rushed to greet visitors to Natuatnathoko, with brandished weapons and terrifying cries. But in the old days there was war-paint on their faces, the weapons meant strict business, and the cooking ovens in the village above were hot to receive the luckless visitor, not to entertain him. ‘To-day the men of this mountain town, once the home of every devilish cruelty, were running, and shouting, and swinging — their cutting-knives about simply to express their uncontrollable delight at my arrival. A white woman up here, and alone! What a tremendous event, and what a source of mad excitement ! Why, there was not a white face for fifty miles on either side of Natuatnathoko, and the magis- trate himself only came round to hold his court in the big house they had been thatching once in every six months ! When I dismounted outside the bamboo stockade, and scrambled over the stile into the town, they rushed to look at my side-saddle, crying out, ‘“‘Sombo, sombo !” (“ Wonderful !”). ‘Then they stared at my habit-skirt, which I was holding up as I walked, and expressed their admiration of its length by loud “Tck-tcks!” They told my men that I must be rich to have such a long sulu as that, and that I was certainly an “ Andi” (high chieftainess), because of my height, which was equal to their own (in Fiji the chief families are all tall, and a tall woman, in particular, is sure to be of the blood royal of Bau, King ‘Thakombau’s _ birth- place). Following at a respectful dis- tance, they accom- panied me into the town, my men, as usual, enjoying the glory of the arrival exceedingly, and competing with each other in the size and splendour of the lies they told about me. I was the sister of the Governor of Fiji (a fact that would have greatly surprised his Excellency if he had heard it); 1 was also a most intimate friend of King Edward VII., who had especially dispatched me from England to tell him what Fiji was like. Moreover, my father had so many cattle that England was too small to contain them, and I was therefore asking questions, wherever I went, about the amount of vacant grazing land to be had in Fiji for these superfluous “ bulimacow.” I did not pay much attention to these fictions, however, for I was now within the town, and Nambuknya at once fell from its pride of place in my heart. It was not the most beautiful |

Page 366

A LADY IN: FAR FIJI. 357 village in the world ; that honour was transferred to Natuatnathoko, henceforth and for ever. I beheld a small lawn, surrounded by a ring of about a dozen quaint little, native houses, backed by a tangle of heavy-fruited mandarin orange trees, lemon trees, guavas, scarlet- blossomed hibiscus, and graceful giant bamboo framing the blue distances in the most beautiful of natural arches and windows. Very far below the blue Singatoka wound like a ribbon about the base of the hill, murmuring sleepily and cease- lessly all day and all night long, in the stillness of the mountain air. They are strangely silent, these hill towns, even in the early morning and evening hours, when all the people are at home. The lightly-treading bare feet of the mountaineers make not so much noise upon the grass asa ripe orange falling from the tree; children do not shout at play, there is no calling out to teams, or dragging of heavy boats, or sound of wheel or hoof, for countless miles beyond the mountain wall—only the high hill winds in the whispering bamboos and the long murmur of the river. The house to which I was conducted remains in my memory as the most delightful I saw in Fiji. It belonged to a chief of some importance —the Turanga Lilewa. It stood upon a mound at least five-and- twenty feet high, approached by a long flight of steep stone steps; and from every one of its three doors one looked down in the early morning upon a rolling sea of pearl - coloured mountain __ mists, islanded by sharp violet crags and summits. With the springing up of the clear white sun these opal- escent mists broke and shredded . away to garlands of lightest thistle - down, hanging about the dark-blue shoulders of the hills; the river turned to golden glass, the yellow balls of the oranges began to burn like fire, and sudden day broke upon the silent town. But all too soon the time came to get away, for there was a long distance to cover, and the men had finished their enormous feast of yams and pig and fat river crayfish. The bridle was being forced upon Tanewa’s mildly-protesting A PRESENT OF “SOMETHING TO RAT" FOR THE AUTHORESS. From a Photo, head once more, and it was “ boot and saddle ” again and ride away, the richer by an exquisite picture of beauty and one or two oddly comic experiences. Among these must be included the special honour paid me by the wife of the Turanga Lilewa, who proudly brought out a chair and table (evidently home-made), at which I was requested to take my dinner. Chairs and tables in the mountains are unheard-of luxuries, and the Turanga Lilewa was very proud of pos- sessing these objects of art ; so much so that I had not the heart to tell him he had got the relative heights hopelessly mixed—the chair being a giant of its species, while the table was not eighteen iriches high! I ate my dinner on it rather than hurt his feelings; but I felt inexpressibly ludicrous, and remarkably like a chicken drinking ! After Natuatnathoko the journey became inextricably involved with the Singatoka River. All day I was concerned with that stream— fording it more than once, climbing up and down the hills that bordered its banks, and at last cantering easily for many a mile through the beautiful river flats of the middle reaches—the richest land in the whole of Fiji. Villages were very few to-day, so my attendant gour- mands did not secure more than one or two feasts before we reached the stopping-place for the night. We halted after a day’s travel of only about fifteen miles, since heavy rain that fell in the middle of the day had delayed us an hour or two. ‘The sun had just. slip- ped behind the hills when we reached the lower Singatoka—a stream very differ- ent from the shallow, brawling waters we had left earlier in the day. This was wide and strong, dark, clear agate-green in colour, and exceedingly deep. The night was coming on very rapidly; there was not a soul in sight and no boat visible My men tied up Tanewa in the long grass (since he was to be sent back next morning from this side of the river) and then sat down and began rolling cigarettes. Whether we were going to get

Page 367

358 across the river before dark—whether we were going to arrive anywhere at all—what we were going to do anyhow — did not trouble them in the least. ‘That was “the white man’s burden” (or, in this case, the white woman’s). Their burdens were my box and provision bag, nothing more. “Ts there no boat ?” I asked Manassa. “No, sir,” replied Manassa, with the utmost cheerfulness. (The Fijian generally addresses a lady as “sir.” “No ford anywhere—no place to cross?” “No, sir.” “Then we'll have to swim, and pretty quick about it. It’s getting dark.” “ All right, sir.” And he lit a cigarette. I had dressed myself in expectation of some such contingency, and had only to remove my This I was proceeding riding-skirt and shoes. THE “ MPILLeMBILE From aj to do, when Manassa remarked conversationally,. with a brilliant smile :— * “Plentee s’ark here.” 1 stopped at the laces of the second shoe, and asked anxiously :— “What shark? All same Reéwa shark stop here ?” “Ves, sir; all same. Plentee.” This gave me an unpleasant sensation down the spine, for I had heard many things of the Réwa River sharks—how fierce they were, how they would swim up the river for fully thirty miles, how they bit arms and legs off careless bathers, as the records of the local hospital testified. And now I was informed that the Singatoka was infested in the same way. Stanley wouldn’t have minded those sharks, I felt certain. The men obviously did not, but I did, and I hesitated. THE WIDE WORLD ON WHICH MISS GRIMSHAW CkossED BAMNOOS TIED MAGAZINE. “There is a mbili-mbili coming,” remarked Nasoni at this stage, pointing out across the water. I looked about, half expecting to see some strange river-beast or fish rising from the glassy tide ; but a much more welcome sight met my eyes—a small bamboo raft, just like a bundle of sticks, coming across from the other side, paddled by a native. In a few minutes it was alongside—a mere parcel of sticks with a depression in the middle, and a sort of rough bow formed by tying the small ends of the bamboos tightly together. Such as it was, however, I welcomed it gladly, for Lemba- Lemba, an important town, was on the other side, and I had got to cross to-night or drown. Saddle and baggage were piled on the mbili- mbili, and I perched myself as safely as possible on one side. In the gathering dusk I could THE SINGATOKA RIVER—IT WAS SIMPLY A BUNDLE OF TOGETHER, [ Photo. just see white sulus flitting about upon the farther shore; it was evident that we were expected. When the raft grounded, a big, jet- eyed, jet-bearded native with a fine, dignified presence, a neck and chest like a bull, anda voice to match, came forward and welcomed me as one having authority. I did not need to be told that this was the Buli, or high chief of the district, for the deference paid to him by my men at once informed me of the fact. Good Buli of Lemba-Lemba! What a pleasant memory you left in the mind of one wandering “marama,” long after she had sailed away from your hospitable town! Here at last was someone with a head and a heart, kindly, hospitable, and jolly; quick to give orders, ready to stir abour, a relief indeed from the amiable dependence of the men, The ascent from the river to the village was almost

Page 368

A LADY IN FAR FIJI. ; 359 BRB ag, From a) unscalable that night, being nearly perpendicular, and so slippery with recently-soaked red clay that it resembled a huge toboggan slide much more than a path. Even the bare feet and strong, prehensile toes of the Fijians slipped on it, while I simply could not keep my footing at © all. But the Buli roared like his namesake animal, and out of nowhere appeared four men armed with spades. These scrambled in front of me, cutting steps as they climbed, while another man and the Buli himself held my elbows and hoisted vigorously. In this fashion, all in the dark, I came up to Lemba-Lemba, and@ was ushered into the Buli’s own house, where supper was already waiting, hot from the cooking-pits—ndalo, yam, crayfish, cocoanuts, fowls, and a brace of plump sucking- pigs, cut up into joints. All this was laid out on a real table, with two real chairs, on one of which the good Buli took his seat, a perfect fire- work of eyes and teeth and glowing good nature, while I took the other. He would not eat till I had finished, however ; and all the time, accord- ing to custom, my hungry men squatted quietly on the floor, waiting for their turn. Many a time, both then and afterwards, I longed to give the patient, tired creatures their food as soon as I was helped myself, instead of keeping them waiting until my tea was made and my meal finished ; but I knew that this was undesirable, and would probably make then unmanageable later on. One hard lesson that the white man or woman must learn with regard to Fijian servants is not to be too kind. ‘They may be considered in private, but one must never openly show them that their comforts are a matter of thought ; and the respect that they freely offer must not be broken down by any lessening of dignity on the white person’s part. Like all savage races, they construe kindness as weak- ness, and, although I have not personally found THE VILLAGE OF LEMBA-LEMBA, [P, them incapable of gratitude, I have found that an act of indulgence, such as a gift of tea or tobacco, or a little skilled care for some small injury, must needs be balanced by a certain manufactured hardness of demeanour if it is not to form an excuse for future laziness and carelessness. This question of gratitude is a much-vexed one. Most of the older writers say that the Fijians possess no such feeling ; and, certainly, what they may have is of a quality different from ours. I have heard of a kindly old lady (a white settler in Fiji) who tended a young Fijian through a bad attack of dysentery and suc- ceeded, with much trouble, in saving his life. After he was well he came up to her house, planted himself on her veranda, and demanded food and lodging. When she refused he was extremely indignant, and asked her, in an injured tone, “Did you not save my life?” “Certainly I did,” said the lady. ‘Then, of course, it belongs to you, ang you must provide forme,” declared the Fijian. His benefactress, rather taken aback, tried to decline the responsi- bility as politely as might be; but the Fijian stuck to his point, and but for the intervention of a Government official, who was so tickled with the originality of the affair that he carried the man off to Suva for a servant, the kindly lady would probably have suffered a good deal of annoyance. : This is one side. There is, however, another. I have known one of my men, to whom J had given an odd sixpence for tobacco, collect all my shoes and take them off to clean imme- diately ; and on the journey through the moun- tains my interpreter more than once refused tea for himself and the others, on the grounds that I gave them “plentee ki-ki” (food) and that I should not have tea enough for myself if they shared it. To see them afterwards, when we

Page 369

360 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. had reached an Indian store, boiling their tea furiously over the fire till it was as black and thick as treacle, and then drinking it, sweetened to syrup, with an expression of the most heavenly ecstasy on each black face, was to understand that they had previously made a real sacrifice. The Buli shared my tea on this occasion with much delight. Manassa prepared for him a specially powerful cup, well stewed. To pre- sent it he squatted down on the ground before the Buli, lowered his head, and held up the cup, humbly saying, “Na ti, ‘Turanga” (“The tea, O chief!”). ‘The Fijian “ kaisi,” or commoner, pays immense respect to chiefs, and never dares to address them unless squatting humbly on the ground at their feet. Only an equal addresses a chief while standing. After everyone had fed and was satisfied the Buli put my men through a searching catechism as to myself and my doings, enjoying the gossip as heartily as any old maid in an English chimney-corner, and roaring with laughter over some of their-replies. It was then explained to him that I should want the whole house to myself that night, with his wife to keep me company. The idea of being turned out of his chiefly mansion in favour of that unimportant item, his wife, struck the Buli as the greatest From a} joke of the scason, and his fat sides fairly shook with laughter as he bade me good night and waddled down the cocoanut log out into the dark. I fancy he ordered Manassa to sit up in the neighbouring house and entertain him with conversation all night long (Fiji fashion), for the low buzz of talk, punctuated by an occasional bellow of enjoyment, was distinctly audible until daybreak. In the morning Buli offered me a_ pressing FIJIANS AT SUIVEK MISS GRIMSHAW DISCOVERED THAT HEK MEN HAD TRULY WONDEKFUL APPETITES. invitation to stay a day or two longer; but my time was not unlimited, so I rather reluctantly left the pretty town and its hospitable chief, giving two or three shillings in exchange for my lodging, as usual ; and, as usual, finding that my small “tip” was considered extremely liberal. Now came a difficulty. “Tanewa had been sent back, according to previous arrangement ; and, behold, the boat we had expected to meet us was not there! It had gone down the river because of the “ Bosi Vakatmanga,” I was told. As the Bosi, or council of chiefs, was being held in Suva, a hundred miles away, it was difficult to see the connection; but the fact remained. The mbili-mbili must carry us down to Koronisingana ; there was nothing else to be had. So on to this bundle of sticks my baggage, my saddle, myself, and followers were packed, and we began our slow drifting down the river. A proper mbili mbili is not too rough a craft; it has a sort of fence in the centre, enclosing a comfortable seat, and is built with some con- sideration for the matter of keeping its cargo dry. Our ramshackle conveyance, however, boasted only a sort of rise or hillock on each side of the central hollow ; and as I sat with my feet in the latter I could feel the water squirting up my ankles every time the men made a feeble stroke Ow (Photo. with the awkward bamboo pole. This had to be used as an oar, for the river—which I could see right under my feet between the bamboos, green, sunlit, and clear—was much too deep about here to ullow the raft to be punted along. We had had a feast of fowl and pig in the morning and a lunch of tinned meat and biscuit about midday. But that did not trouble the men at all when we got to Koronisingana in the early afternoon, and found that the local

Page 370

A LADY IN FAR FIL : 361 chief had slain the fatted hen once again. I will swear upon my conscience that they had eaten enough for ten already that day, before they sat down to two fowls among the three, and cleared them away, with ten or twelve pounds of yam. When they had finished everything within sight they got up, said it was a good town, and that the Singatoka people would all go to Heaven ; and then went off to bail out the boat I had hired and transfer my goods from the mbiliem bili. The Buli’s house had a European toilet-glass, and my men took full advantage of this, setting it on the floor and squatting before it in turn, From a) to oil, stick up, and decorate their hair. No London lady with a mass of artificially-produced manes and curls is more anxious about her hair than a Fijian. In rainy weather a smoked banana leaf is often used as a waterproof cover for it, closely tied over the head. Those who do not dye the hair yellow with coral lime, or red with annatto, generally touch it up with soot to ensure its being of a dense blackness. It is, therefore, not so completely weatherproof as one might imagine, and is only kept smart by continual vigilance. ‘The boat leaked badly, and the men had to bail in turn all the afternoon. This did not trouble them, however, since all native boats leak, and the bailer is generally as active as the Vol. xviii 48, THE INTERIOR OF A CHIEF'S HOUSE, oarsman. We had neither oars nor paddles, the only means of progression being the bamboo pole. ‘This was slow; so when we came to the shallows Joni would get out and run knee-deep behind the boat, pushing it gaily in front of him for miles at a time—a method of progression entirely new to me, but apparently well known to the men. Towns were scarce in this part of the river, and my followers only succeeded in securing a fourth feed of one fowl and a few pounds of yam before we reached Mavna, the biggest town on the Singatoka, where the growing dusk obliged us to stop. How much they ate there I should not care to say, being anxious to retain some [Photo. character for truth-telling in the midst of a sceptical world. The town could not be seen from the river, but as our boat turned in to the shore and grounded near the bank a Mavnan suddenly appeared from nowhere, dressed in an extremely small sulu and armed with a knife some three feet long. Seeing that we were going to land, he commenced a mad dance on the river-flat, under the orange sunset, his high, stiff hair shaking about on his head like a bed of sword- grass in the wind, his knife circling round and round, while his huge mouth every now and then emitted a yell of the wildest excitement. I longed for a better light to snap-shot this strange vision and stranger welcome, but the sun

Page 371

362 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. was already below the horizon, so that I could not secure a picture. The amiable savage on the bank stopped dancing as soon as we reached the shore, and hastened to hand me out of the boat with a vigour that simply “yanked” me over the gun- wale two or three yards out on to the gravel flat. He then drove my rings into my flesh by an agonizingly hearty hand-shake, went and picked up the bundle of reeds he had been cutting, and ran ahead of us up to the town, whence an excited crowd issued at once to escort us in. Another pretty village—another hospitable Buli; and something new this time in the way of houses, for the Buli of Mavna has one of the very finest houses in Fiji. It is about as large as an ordinary country church, or town-hall, ie From a) with a tremendously high-pitched roof, and a touch of European civilization in the shape of two glass windows, which make it unusually light. The bed-place would accommodate three or four large families, and the yanggona bowl is the pride of the Singatoka. By its dark colour and thick opalescent-blue enamelling I judged it to be an heirloom many generations old, It was the size of an ordinary sponge-bath, and was cut out of one solid block from a giant forest tree. Such a bowl as this is greatly prized, and proportionally valuable, for col- lectors of island curiosities are ready to pay large sums in order to obtain a good specimen. Most of the chiefs, however, prefer to keep them. At Mayna I was entertained with an excellent mekt-mekt, or song and dance. There had been a small one at Natuatnathoko—a sing-song that lasted for several hours, beginning with some verses about myself, going on to celebrate the glories of the horse Tanewa, branching off after that into something about the Ané-Keva, a coasting steamer, and subsequently chanting the saga of all creation, from Adam down to the latest Colonial Secretary, so far as I could judge. But that was rather an unimportant function, whereas the Mavna meké-meké was one “with all the frills on,” got up in honour of my visit by the young men of the town. It took place after the usual pig and poultry feast, in the morning. A number of the youngest and best-looking men attired them- selves in white sulus, rubbed themselves with scented cocoanut-oil until their skins were like dark-brown satin, and tied bracelets of striped THE “ MEK?-MEKE,” OR DANCE, AT MAVNA. green ‘and white ribbon-grass about their arms. They also placed aigrettes of ribbon-grass in their hair, and fastened bunches of brilliant coral-coloured flowers wherever they could be made to stay, about arms and shoulders, or among the ribbon-grass in their yellow-dyed locks. Thus attired they looked a very smart and passable set of young men, much more pleasing in appearance than any other Fijians I had yet seen. The people of Mavna have a tradition that early in the nineteenth century a white man came to live in their town and took to himself several Mavnan wives. The half-caste children of these, marrying among the pure Fijians, in- troduced a strain of white blood, the effects of which (or so they say) are felt to the present day. Certainly the Mavnans are somewhat lighter coloured, as well as better-looking, than

Page 372

A LADY IN FAR FIJI. 363 the people of the other river towns. But I could notice no trace of white ancestry in the hair, which is as stiff and woolly as that of any other group of Fijian people. A mat was spread on the ground, and the young men squatted on it in a row, one, placed at the rear, keeping time for the music by clicking two sticks. The performers began by clapping their hands in unison, and then launched out into an extraordinary and graceful sitting dance, heads, bodies, arms, and hands swaying with one impulse, in perfect time. Sometimes they all swept low to the left, as if mown down by a scythe ; some- times they gathered invisible armfuls into their arms or pointed at unseen sights ; sometimes they raised an indescribable twitter and twinkle of all their bristling decorations, shivering and shaking as they sat. And all the time they sang, with strong, splendid, sonorous voices, a wildly sinister chant, that waxed louder, fiercer and fiercer, every minute. What brazen throats, what résonant lungs they had! The booming of the bass sounded like an organ, and the wild wanderings of the melody—if such it could be called—brought to mind the rushing of sea- winds in the huge fronds of the cocoa-palms above the surf of an island reef. For an hour or so they sat and sang and swayed, and then they stopped to clap in chorus once more, and ended. ‘The words were indistinguishable throughout—not many, even of the Fijians, can tell the exact meaning of the verses used in one of the traditional ancient mekt-mekts—and I could not obtain any explanation of the actions, but some of them seemed distinctly suggestive of fishing and the river. I cannot write in detail of how we got away ; of how we passed several towns, and stopped (by earnest request) to feast at four, on pig, yam, crayfish, fat river-clams, and stewed fowls cooked with native peppers and shallots; of how the men plotted to stop at yet a fifth, and incited Manassa (who was a lordly person, and didn’t have to row) to tell me that Nasoni was worn out with fatigue, and would be ill if I did not shortly call a rest; of how I sternly answered that Nasoni might rest in the boat, and Manassa —who laughed wildly when he saw how he was caught—should take his turn at the oar for once; of how the Buli stood at the foot of his river stairs, in his best Sunday sulu, and shrieked for us to come up and have some- thing to eat; of how we floated relentlessly past like Elaine going down to Camelot, and wouldn’t call; of how, at long last, we came towards the mouth of the river, near the open sea; of how I reached a white magistrate’s house, and quartered myself therein, and was hospitably welcomed. Suffice it to say that Joni, Nasoni, and Manassa picked up most of the guavas, and seventy-five per cent. of the oranges, that we met floating down the river from the trees on the banks ; that they ate them ; and that, furthermore, arrived at the constabu- lary station where they were put up, they consumed (in addition to one feast at Mavna and four coming down the river) the liberal supplies of tinned meat, biscuit, tea, yam, and rice offered them by the Governmental authorities as rations tor travelled and hungry men. That they were ill, after all, I know; for they left me a day or so later (in not too good con- dition) when I hired a cutter to take me down the coast ; and months afterwards I heard that “the marama had taken Joni and Nasoni away from the Ba River down to the Singatoka, and ‘ they came back very sick, for she had worked them nearly to death!” There is no necessity to tell how I got back to Mavna and thence to Suva, seventy miles from the mouth of the Singatoka. There was a cutter with a little dog-kennel forward, and a miserable creature that crouched within for a wretched day and night—but let us draw a rug over it, as I did, and pass to my strange, but more pleasant, experiences in Vanna Levu. (Zo be concluded.)

Page 373

fs ttle Seaions By Louise WEAVER. The terrifying. experience which befell a U.S. Government employé while duck-shooting on the Alameda Marshes in San Francisco Bay. “The story is strictly true,” writes Miss Weaver, “and is set down as Wyber told it to me.” BARLY dusk and San Francisco’s usual dense, low fog pressed close to earth and hid all distant objects, j movable or stationary, as Albert ~ Wyber closed the street door and swung off for the car that carried him out to his work at the Presidio. He had gone but a few steps when he ran against a bulky figure hurrying up the street from the opposite direction. The near view resolved this plethoric personage into a slim young man garbed in a hunting-coat. A gun in one hand and a brace of ducks in the other told that he was returning from a sporting trip. “Halloa, Merrit!” cried Wyber; “ you’ve bagged the limit this time, haven’t you?” “Well, not quite,” laughed Merrit, swinging the canvas-backs round where the soft grey of their plump breasts and the metallic sheen of the two green wing-feathers caught the faint light. “ How is the shooting on the marshes this season?” continued Wyber, longingly eyeing his friend’s spoils. “Good,” repticd Merrit. “It has been pretty even, too. Scarcely a sportsman has come in empty-handed.” Then, after a moment’s thought, he asked, “ You have not been out at all this year, have you?” Wypber shook his head sadly. ““T say,” cried Merrit, warmly, “take a day off, and we'll go over and fill the canoe.” “I wish I could,” replied Wyber, earnestly. “Well, think it over, and when you are ready let me know,” said Merrit, and went off down the street. Wyber did think it over. He stood in the middle of the pavement and watched his friend disappear in the twilight while he thought it over. He continued to think it over while he ran for his car. Each market he passed, with its tantalizing display of mallard, teal, sprigs, and widgeon, echoed the invitation with in- creasing persistency and would not let the tempting subject slip his mind, while it vexed him with the inverted order of his working hours, which gave neither holidays nor Sundays. ‘Two years previous Wyber had passed the Engineers’ Civil Service examination, and later, at the first vacancy, had received an appoint- ment at the Presidio. ‘Though the Government allowed two weeks’ annual holiday to all its employés at the Presidio, Wyber had not seen fit to take an outing at the end of his first year, but had remained at his post. In the meantime, neither the Christmas nor Fourth of July vacations brought him rest, for the engines must do their work at all seasons. Merrit’s talk of a “day off” referred to Wypber’s second vacation-time, which was draw- ing near. Wyber had entertained serious thoughts of letting this holiday season slip by unobserved,

Page 374

A BATTLE WITH SEA-LIONS. 365 but the continued strain was beginning to tell on his nerves. The close confinement and the long working hours of his employment—from six in the evening until six in the morning—had somewhat impaired his health. A change had become a necessity to his physical well-being. Merrit’s invitation haunted him so persistently through the long night hours of the following week that Wyber found his work growing irksome and impatiently awaited his approaching period of rest. When his furlough finally arrived the duck season was half gone and Merrit was back in his office again, so Wyber was forced to make pre- parations for his outing on the Alameda Marshes alone. He borrowed Merrit’s new repeating Winchester shot - gun, weighted the pockets of his hunting- coat with g whole box of No. 6 cartridges, and, with a couple of biscuits and a note from Merrit to the boat-house keeper, started for the Alameda ferry early one morning in the middle of January. From the Alameda ferry- slip he hastened down to the end of Chestnut Street, where stood the Mount Eden Gun Club’s boat-house. Obtaining the key from the boat-house keeper, he got out Mer- rit’s duck canoe, tossed an extra sculling oar aboard, and swung the nose of the craft out toward the middle of the channel. With long, steady strokes he sent the light skiff skimming through the yellow waters of the bay, rowing much farther over to the west than he had at first intended, pulling swiftly and evenly, plying his rest-surfeited muscles for the mere pleasure given by the unwonted exercise. At last he turned southward towards the marshes, which are merely a continuation of San Francisco Bay. The shallow bed of this southern arm of the bay—filled in by the wash from the streams of its lower basin—-lifts up at low tide long, narrow strips of wash-soil, alternated by long, deep, silty pools. The whole of these mud-flats makes an excellent natural feeding- ground for duck, snipe, plover, curlew, rail, and other water-fowl. a es From a) MR, WYBER, WHO HERE RELATES HIS TERRIBLE EXPRRIENCE WITH SEA-LIONS, (Photo. The low tules and sedge-grass of the flats, completely hidden at high tide, shelter worms, slugs, fish-eggs, small crabs, and other soft- bodied creatures that fatten the birds to a marrowy richness not exceeded by any other fare; and here, when the cold at the north drives down the butterballs, pintails, and mallard to this land of plenty, the sportsman finds the best shooting in the State—till the sprouting grain along the Sacramento and San Joaquin attracts the. flocks by hundreds, and leaves but a scattered company of water- ° fowl along the marshes. The fog lifted and drifted, and settled back on the water that winter morning till one element seemed to merge into the other. Behind the solitary hunter, to the north, in the deep water hidden by the shrouding veil of fog which shut out the shore line and left only a dim, narrow dome about the canoe, Wyber could hear the pulsing “chug-chug ” of the ferry. From overhead the harsh cry of a gull and the shrill “cheep” of Mother Carey’s chickens dropped down in lessen- ing discordance, while close about the boat a restful stillness brooded over everything. When Wyber had worked himself into a glow he slipped the sculling oar into place at the stern of the canoe and began to work quietly up the bay toward the marshes. Soon he began to keep a sharp look-out on the water for ducks, but he was in the deeper current, and the flocks were more widely separated here than in the shallow pools. Consequently he did not sight any of the wary water-fowl till he had been out some time ; then a dozen dim swimming masses dotted the line where the lighter grey of the fog met the dull shimmer of the water. Working his way up quite near he knocked over one duck, and when the flock flew up he got another bird on the wing. The light air carried the reports of his gun but a short distance, and it was not long before he was close upon another flock. Picking up two more out of these birds he sculled silently on Psat 2 —

Page 375

366 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “WHEN THE FLOCK FLEW UP HE GOT ANOTHER BIRD ON THE WING.” toward the mud-flats, continuing to bring down a duck or two from each flight that crossed the narrow arch set over him by the fog till he had ten birds in the bottom of the boat, and he was still out in deep water. He had sculled over to his eleventh duck, which lay floating breast-upwards in the widening ripples where it had fallen, when, as he reached out over the side of the skiff to take in the mallard he noticed a great school of Spanish mackerel and herring circling hither and thither about the boat. As he looked their numbers increased, till the water seemed alive with the finny creatures. Round this way and that, under the canoe and all about it, they darted and played, till their dark backs and glistening sides filled the dull flood with changing flashes. After watching their play for a few minutes Wyber sculled slowly forward with the oar, now and then striking against the masses of fish that filled the waters at the stern of the boat. The bulk of the school, however, seemed to hover most at the bow and on the port side of the skiff. Still watching and wondering what prompted the fish to remain so persistently in the lee of his canoe, Wyber sculled onwards till some- thing—a slight splash in the water behind him —caused him to glance round. Then the mystery of the crowding mackerel was explained at once. Not two rods away the round, monkey-like heads of six or eight sea- lions dotted the light stretch behind him. Wypber’s pulse tripped on a beat or two faster at sight of all those round heads bobbing along on the crest of the waves. His slight acquaint- ance with sea-lions had begun and ended three years before at Lake Chabot, with the two or three animals which the Contra Costa Water Company had _ intro- duced into the lake to clear out the carp which kept the water of that reservoir muddy. The sight of a man in a boat on the lake threw the vicious-tem- pered old male of this party into a frenzy of rage, and he invariably advanced _threateningly on the boat and _ its occupant, swimming back and forth between his family and the rower, “yapping” fiercely all the time. The ease with which the old fellow flung his full length with a sounding slap on the board float built near the bank for the lions inspired the workmen with wholesome respect, and when rowing over to the evaporating tank they always gave the irascible old rascal a wide berth, lest he might consider it necessary for the protection of his mates to crush the canoe and attack the men. One of these Zalophus californianus, inhabi- tants of the Seal Rocks just outside the Golden Gate, sometimes follows a school of fish over the bar, and, not liking to breast the incoming wind and tide, remains in the bay and cruises round for a week or two. Rarely are two seen inside at once. The big herd now coming on in Wyber’s wake was an unusual sight in the bay. When the lions saw the hunter they set up a deafening chorus of “yaps ” that sounded any- thing but reassuring to his ears. They came on swiftly. Being expert fishers, they darted all round the boat after the herring and mackerel, catching these swift swimmers with ease - coming to the surface, tossing the fish up into the air, catching them as they came down, and swallowing them head first with only two or three bites to a fish a foot long. The constant “yap, yap” of the beasts on every side almost drove Wyber to desperation. Round and round the boat, bumping its keel, tossing fish by the very rail, turning aside the sculling oar, flirting water from their tails into his face, the sea-lions crowded him so close that he became alarmed for the safety of his light craft. One old fellow seemed particularly daring, whisking against the side of the canoe, raising himself half out of the water, and barking savagely in Wyber’s face. Sometimes he would gle

Page 376

A BATTLE WITH SEA- LIONS. 367 turn and slap his tail against the rowlocks, push- ing the canoe so roughly that it tipped till the water came in over the side. Thinking to drive him away, Wyber struck him with the oar, but the beast became so enraged and darted up so viciously, with his body far out of the water, that Wyber thought he was making ready to fling himself into the boat. His sharp canine teeth looked so unpleasantly like a savage dog’s that the sportsman felt it was time to take more strenuous measures with the fierce animal. Seizing his gun, he discharged a load of duck- shot full in the lion’s face, killing him instantly. Immediately the whole herd barked and bellowed like infuriated’ bulls. Leaving their fishing, they turned on Wyber and his boat with one accord. On either side of the startled man a big, dark ‘SEIZING HIS GUN, HE DISCHARGED A LOAD OF DUCK-SHOT FULL IN THE LION'S FACE,” body bounced up and threatened to” hurl its crushing weight across the frail timbers of the tiny craft. Wyber grasped an oar with both hands and swung it edge-wise with all his strength against the lion on the left. The big beast dropped back in the water, and Wyber, whirling his weapon, dealt the barking creature on the right a stunning blow on the head. The little eyes of the lion snapped fiercely, and he tried to fling himself forward across the boat, but Wyber thrust the end of the oar against his ribs and pushed him off. He toppled back into the water, only to spring up again some distance away. While the hunter’s attention was directed to these two enemies a smaller lion got the dog-like claws on his flippers over the gunwale and tried to drag himself aboard the boat, rocking it till the water rushed in again. Wyber, realizing his danger, raised his oar and brought it down with crushing force on the wet, dark head. Again and again he struck the beast—on the claws, over the head, and across the back— before he broke its hold on the boat-side. At the instant it slipped back into the water Wyber felt a gusty breath on his left cheek. Turning swiftly, he found a big lion in the act of flinging itself upon him. Having no time nor room to swing his oar, the sportsman jerked his shaft backwards, caught the end against the neck of the springing lion, and pushed with all his might. ‘Thecanoe swung round, and the heavy animal went down with a splash where the light craft had rocked a moment before. When the panting man turned again two savage, “yapping” faces were rising one on either side close against the prow. To qght and left Wyber brought down his pound- ing oar till another beast stood up ready to fling his big, round body under the whistling oar, but Wyber beat him back with sounding whacks across his middle. All at once he became conscious that his fierce exertions were telling on his strength. The per- spiration streamed down his face, trickling into his eyes and blinding him with its stinging brine till some of his blows went wide of the blurred heads rising all round him. His breath came in gasps and his arms felt ready to drop, but he dared not rest an instant. When a big lion shot up by his elbow he snatched up his gun and discharged it—this time into the body of the creature. The beast settled slowly down into the water, barking all the time and seemingly but little hurt. On the other side another round form sprang bigtized by GOOLE (@)

Page 377

368 THE WIDE WORLD up into the air and Wyber, re- loading hastily, turned the gun on him. He felt averse to the wanton slaughter of the beasts, but his two years’ easy night- work had lessened his staying- powers, and it was absolutely necessary for his own safety that he should gain a breathing spell in this uneven fight. So, when three great brutes rose simultaneously on the star- board side, he fired once more. Unless he hit one in the -head, he discovered it paid little or no attention to the duck-shot. Not daring to waste time in reloading, the hunter threw down his empty gun and snatched up the oar again to beat off a big lion —two hundred and fifty or three hundred pounds in weight —that reared itself close on his right, ready to fall on the skiff and crush it like an eggshell. Once in the water Wyber knew he would be completely at the mercy of the enraged brutes, so that it behoved him to give no chances, While he was dealing sledge- hammer blows at the barking brutes near him, he felt the boat rising at the stern where he sat. ‘ Glancing fearfully forward, he saw a lion pulling himself in over the bow. Already the big creature was half in the canoe, and before Wyber could move forward and swing the oar to drive it back it was aboard. : The boat settled alarmingly, tipping to the water-line at each motion of the lumbering body. In desperation Wyber struck at the lion three times in quick succession without disabling the beast. ‘Then, seeing that the brute would soon be upon him, he seized his gun, thrust in a cartridge, placed the muzzle against the lion's head, and fired. The shot killed the animal at once, and Wyber, pushing more cartridges into his gun, shot at the head of the next brute that attempted to board the canoe. Three of them he filled full of duck-shot, MAGAZINE. “HE PLACED THE MUZZLE AGAINST THE LION'S HEAD AND FIRED.” though he only killed the one in the canoe and the first one at which he had shot. By reserving his fire and shooting at their heads only he at last discouraged the rest of the herd, and they gradually drew off, still barking fiercely. When at last the dark knobs disappeared entirely in the fog, Wyber was dripping with perspiration and panting from exhaustion. The dead sea-lion in the bow being too heavy to roll from the boat without letting in enough water to swamp the light craft, Wyber, after resting and recovering his breath, turned about and pulled back to the boat-house, where he skinned the lion, and later had the pelt mounted. It will be many a long day, how- ever, before he forgets his solitary duck-shooting excursion on the Alameda Marshes. Digitized ty GOOQTE Cc

Page 378

Moe N Ry > Sa a By Roope WILLIAMS. The full story of an exciting episode that has passed into Australian history—the robbery of the gold-ship “Nelson” in Melbourne Harbour. The narrative was told to the author, himself an old Colonist, by one of the daring band of pirates concerned in the affair. URING a long residence in the north-western mallee country of Vic- toria 1 became acquainted many years ago with the occupant of a solitary hut upon an out-station of one of the many small pastoral holdings in that desolate and, then, all but uninhabited territory. This man had passed a long and eventful, if not always reputable, life in, the Colonies. Dating his arrival in Van Diemen’s Land, as a prisoner of the Crown, as far back as the thirties, he made a sensational escape in 1851 from that penal settlement to the golden Colony of Victoria, and, during the period of turbulent trouble which followed the discovery of gold, passed through all the varied vicissitudes of a criminal career. After a prolonged existence of alternating crime, punishment, and freedom, he was, at the time I discovered him, wearing out an old age—then drawing rapidly to its close— in the solitude and obscurity of a mallee shepherd’s hut. After my first encounter with the old man (having one day stumbled upon his hut on the outlet creek when searching for water for my horse) I saw him frequently ; and, as I was enabled to do him some little services, he became friendly. Sometimes “ Brummy”—I never knew him by any other name—grew very communicative, and would occasionally, in a sudden burst of confidence, relate passages in his life which impressed me.with the conviction that he had been largely mixed up with the criminal history of the carly days. To one particular subject he was greatly prone to recur, as though he had it frequently in his mind ; and as I more than suspected it had reference to a very daring act of piracy, known as the “ Robbery of the Nelson,” I pressed him to teH me the whole Vol. xviii, 47. story, promising it should, during his life, go no farther. As the old man is dead that con- dition no longer exists, and the story is free to be told. “Brummy’s” narrative, put into connected form, so far as my memory serves me, was as follows :— Yes, I was in the Medson job, and a pretty big thing it was, too. There were a lot of us— over ascore, afloat and ashore. But there wasn’t so much gold as we thought; it didn’t go properly round, and some didn’t get a fair share on the divide. It was a risky business and we ought to have done better, but the men that planned it made a bad blunder when they let the right ship get away and_ left us the little Me/son, which hadn't half the “swag” on board that the Admiral had. But the Admiral was a fine ship with a big crew, and perhaps if we had tackled her we should not, for all our score of men and her hundreds of thousands of pounds’ worth of treasure, have done so well and got off so easily as we did over the /Ve/son, with her thirty thousand pounds’ worth of gcld. As I have said, there were quite two dozen of us in it altogether ; and out of that lot the police only got five sentenced—and one of them got off afterwards on an a/iéi, But it's all past and gone now, thirty-five years ago and more, and every one that had to do with it— gold-robbers, sailors, prisoners, and police—will soon be out of the world, if they are not already dead and buried. It all happened in this way. In the autumn of 1852 I was in Geelong. 1 had just come down from Ballarat, where my luck had gone dead out, and the troopers had been making themselves uncommonly troublesome. Twas strolling down Malop Street one morning, when,

Page 379

370 THE WIDE WORLD coming out of the Black Bull Lane, I met an old “pal” I had known on “tother side” and hadn’t come across for ever so long. After a drink or two this “pal” said he could put me on to a good thing if I didn’t mind a little risk ; he thought there would be a real good “swag” to divide if it came off all right. He also remarked that there was a lot of gold lying quite handy if a man only had pluck enough to go for it. Well, my curiosity was roused, and T began to want to know more. ‘Thereupon my “pal” said he thought he could fix me up for the job, and, if I would meet him that evening, at So-and- so’s house, in “ Little Scotland,” I should hear all about it for myself. I went there, and found about a dozen men assembled at the place. A tall, dark man, whose name I had heard in Hobart Town, but whom I didn’t know, seemed to be the leader and did all the talking. ‘There were several men present I had not seen before, but we all seemed to know something of each other and that we were all “safe” for the job in hand, which the tall man quietly explained as a “little gold-mining expedition.” He told us that about a score of good men were wanted to take the gold out of one of the ships in the bay just before she sailed for London. There were two vessels in view—the ship Admiral, which was expected to sail from Hobson’s Bay, the port of Melbourne, with about ninety thousand ounces of gold, and the barque /Ve/son, then lying at Point Henry, in Geelong Harbour, which he believed would have about half the quantity. ‘The latter was thought the safest to attempt, as she carried a smaller crew and had more gold to ship when she went up to Melbourne. We talked the matter over for a long time, and at last decided to leave the business in the hands of two leaders, who were to get all possible information and make all arrangements. I met several of the men after that and we talked the project over ; all agreed it was going to be a real good thing if everything came off right. About a week or so after I got “the office” to go up, with two of my mates, to Melbourne. When we arrived there we were told to go across the bay to Williamstown and meet at a certain place on a certain date. On the night of April rst, at eleven o'clock, I proceeded with my “pals” to a little house on the outskirts of the village, not far from the lighthouse, where we met eight other men, including our leader, or “captain,” who supplied us with weapons and black handkerchiefs to tie across our faces. Then, after instructions, we proceeded cautiously to the beach, where we found a whaleboat ready for our use. In the MAGAZINE. meantime, I had gathered from the conversation around me that the larger vessel, the Admrra/, had sailed for London that evening, with a large cargo and some eighty-seven thousand ounces of gold, so that she had, fortunately for her, escaped our attentions. It further transpired that the WVe/son was to sail on the following day, but we did not know how much gold she had on board, though we expected to get more information about her as soon as our other mates, who were coming from the Melbourne side of the bay, should arrive. Presently the dip of oars gave notice ef the approach of some craft, and out of the gloom— for the night was very dark, with scarcely a star visible—a second boat, carrying ten more of our band, grounded on the beach. A long con- sultation amongst the leaders followed, and we soon learned that the We/son was lying not far off in the fairway, ready to stast on her voyage in the morning. She had most, if not all, of her gold on board, but her captain was ashore looking after a number of the crew, who had refused to ship until the very last moment; con- sequently, the barque that night was not half manned. This, of course, was very welcome news to us, as it meant an easy capture. We did not mean to use violence if we could help it, but we were going for the gold, and the gold we meant to have, whatever the consequences might be. After the consultation we were informed that as the vessel was not to be boarded until half- past one o'clock in the morning—in order to allow those on board to get comfortably asleep —the boats were to put off from the beach and paddle down the bay for an hour or so, in order to avoid unnecessary observation. We were to rendezvous at the fairway buoy at a quarter-past one o'clock. Precisely at the time appointed the two boats, carrying twenty-one men, all fully armed, met at the place indicated, and with muffled oars set out for the ship which carried our golden prize. As we approached the WNe/son the boats separated, one going on each side, but, as the ship’s ladder hung on the port side, both boats pulled round to it. Then the greater part of the band crept quietly on deck, three men being left to guard each boat and to be ready for a retreat should that be necessary. Arrived on board, we found the decks quite clear and not a soul stirring. There was not even an anchor-watch—-which, considering the treasure the ship carried, seemed to me some- what careless. But then, nobody, I suppose, expected such visitors to come aboard at that time in the morning. However, there we were. Several of our party immediately ran to the

Page 380

THE ROBBERY OF THE GOLD-SHIP. 371 “THE GREATER PART OF THE BAND CREPT QUIETLY ON DECK." forecastle and secured the ship’s butcher, the carpenter, and two seamen—all that were found there. The cook was on board, but, hearing our approach and scenting mischief, went over the side and hung on to the ship’s cable until we cleared out, when he clambered inboard again and released the crew. It was lucky for him we didn’t know of his presence, or he would have been shot at once. Meanwhile another party, of which I was one, made for the cabin, where we found a man asleep on the cuddy sofa. I shook him up, whereupon he sleepily asked me what I wanted, telling me to “ stop larking and go away.” Putting a pistol to his ear, I explained that this was no lark, but that we had come for the gold. Sitting up in a dazed sort of way, he stared at us fora moment; then he began to realize the situation, and quickly in- formed us that he did not belong to the ship, but was second mate of the Reval George, then lying in the stream. We left him in charge of a guard, and, going farther in, met the chief officer, who had already been warned by the second mate that something was amiss. He was immediately seized and, at his own request, allowed to finish dressing. He seemed some- what astonished at secing such a crowd and asked what we wanted. Our leader told him curtly that we had come for the gold on board, and that we meant to have it or his brains would be blown out. The mate began to parley and declared there was no gold on board; it had all gone away in the Admzra/. Our captain, how- ever, told him to stop; we knew all about the gold that had been taken on board at Geelong and meant to have it, and that quickly. “ We have not come aboard to be played with,” he added. “I will give you two minutes to think the matter over.” Drawing his pistol, our captain pointed it at the officer’s head. ‘Now, don’t be a fool,” he continued, sternly. “Show me where the lazarette is at once, or I'll put a hole through you.” The mate quickly realized his helplessness and led the way to the cuddy, where he pointed out the position of the lazarette. He was then compelled to open it; and when he had removed the grating the captain ordered him to go down into it. When the mate hesitated one of our band, who held a naked cutlass in his hand, gave him a sharp prod with it, and it was curious to see how quickly he jumped into the hole. Four of our men immediately followed, and, a candle having been lighted and sent down, the locker containing the gold, with the official red tape and seals across it, was plainly to be seen. With the aid of a crowbar the strong

Page 381

372 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “DRAWING HIS PISTOL, OUR CAPTAIN POINTED IT AT THE OFFICER'S HEAD.” padlock was soon wrenched off, and, the locker being forced open, a number of boxes of gold, twenty-four in all, were disclosed to view. My mates were wild with joy at the success of the expedition, some being so excited that they had to be sternly called to order by our leader. Each box was supposed to contain gold to the value of one thousand or twelve hundred pounds, and as they were being passed up our captain touched one and said to our prisoner, “Now, Draper, see here ; we'll behave fairly to you. ‘This box holds one thousand pounds or more. You shall have it for your share if you'll join us and show us what other valuables you may have on board this ship.” The officer, however, refused to have anything to do with us, and it was just as well for him that he did, for if he had taken any of the plunder some of our gang would certainly have killed him for the sake of it. As he persisted in his refusal, however, our captain said, carelessly :— “Ab, well, just as you please. There'll be all the more to divide amongst ourselves.” By this time the men found in the forecastl@ had been brought into the cuddy and securely bound, as were also the second mates of the Nelson and Royal George. The first mate, whose arms were simply pinioned behind him, was at first permitted to walk about, guarded by a sentry; but presently, as he was caught attempting to free himself and neglected to obey orders, he was brought to his senses by a pistol-shot, which, however, only wounded him in the fleshy part of the hip, but kept him quiet for the rest of the time we were on board. That mistake of shooting the mate, as it was against orders, caused a row and hastened our departure, for we were afraid the report might give the alarm to other ships lying not far away. Moreover, it put our captain into a terrible temper. He threatened the man who fired the shot with instant death, and was only restrained from violence by the intervention of others, who urged the necessity for getting the gold on shore as quickly as possible. The boxes were all piled on the cuddy table ready for removal, when, acting under the orders of our leader, we broke open the ship’s arm- chest and took what muskets and pistols we fancied, throwing the remainder, with all the ship’s cutlasses, overboard. We then lowered away the two quarter-boats and cast them adrift, in order to prevent the crew from getting ashore, and we unshipped the swivel-guns the vessel carried and threw them overboard also. Finally we got the gold out of the cuddy and placed safely in the whaleboats, and then gathered our prisoners and bundled them all into the lazarette, the trap-door of which we shut down, piling bales of wool upon it to prevent their escape. Giving the sailors to understand that a guard would be

Page 382

THE ROBBERY OF THE GOLD-SHIP. 373 “HE THREATENED THE MAN WHO FIRED THE SHOT WITH INSTANT DEATH.” left on board to keep watch, and that, on the slightest attempt to get away, they would imme- diately be shot, we all scrambled into our boats and pulled away rapidly for the shore, heading towards the Melbourne side of the bay. We landed at a convenient place, where the ti-tree scrub offered shelter for our operations. Here we were to be met by a couple of men with a horse and cart, in which to convey our treasure to a secure hiding-place. Either the men had missed the place appointed or we had landed at the wrong spot, but the fact remains that when we got the gold ashore there was no cart to meet us. We accordingly carried the boxes—no light weight—up into the scrub, and then consulted as to what was to be done. All sorts of opinions were being given and sugges- tions made, when suddenly an angry dispute arose between the captain and the man who had fired at the mate—the old quarrel seemed to rankle in both men’s minds—and this time weapons were drawn and the trouble appeared serious. The leader’s authority, however, finally prevailed, and the man was disarmed, pinioned, and gagged, to prevent further bother. Just then, fortunately, the cart made its appearance on the beach, and the gold was speedily loaded up and carted off to a place in Canvas Town, on the south side of the River Yarra, where it was put on board_a small lighter, carried down

Page 383

374 THE WIDE WORLD the bay to Geelong, and landed at Cowie’s Creek, where it was shared out amongst the band in a house not far from the Melbourne Road. Whilst we were waiting in the scrub and quarrelling amongst our- selves, a few of the boxes were forced open by the aid of gun- barrels, and the contents, all safely stowed .in chamois - leather bags, taken out for easier convey- ance. In their eagerness to get possession of their share some of these bags were scrambled for by two or three men, and in consequence a lot of the gold was spilled in the sand. The empty boxes were subse- quently found by the police, and were the only portions of the spoil ever traced or recovered. The cart hay- ing gone off to the rendezvous, with two more men to help in the unloading, the remainder of the band, now nineteen in number, again took to the two boats and, rowing farther down the bay, passing Lear- det’s landing-place, finally left them on the beach, about five miles from where we had landed the gold, in order to throw any pursuers off the scent. The pinioned man was put into the boat which carried the captain. I was in the other and did not see either man again, but it is a curious cir- cumstance that out of the twenty-one men who boarded the (Ve/son only twenty put in claims for a share of the gold at the Geclong division. I never learnt who got the twenty-first portion. “THE MAN WAS DISARMED AND PINIONED.” MAGAZINE. Of course, after the share-out, we had to sell a lot of the “stuff” for a great deal less than we could have got for it had it been amassed by honest digging. I was lucky, however, for I was known as a digger, and accordingly got a fair price for my gold from a buyer in Geelong. Some of my mates, however, as I heard after- wards, did not get more than thirty shillings an ounce—that, of course, was one of the penal- ties of doubtful character ;_ the man who knows you are a thief robs you just as mercilessly as you do the un- fortunate victim you plunder. And that re- minds me of a curious circum- stance, following upon and con- nected with this particular © rob- bery. One of the men, convicted and sentenced to fifteen years’ penal servitude upon thatcharge, had, just before his arrest, paid into a Melbourne bank the sum of five hundred pounds. After serving his time he bethought him of the money, but he had no documents in con- nection with it, and could not for the life of him remember the name of the bank ; all he could recollect was that he had to go up some steps to enter it. In fifteen years he found Melbourne greatly changed, and could not any- where recognise the building in which he had deposited his cash. He sought legal assistance, but the combined efforts of the lawyer and him- self could not bring to the remembrance of any banker in that city the receipt of five hundred pounds from a depositor so many years back. And so ends the story of the gold-ship robbery.

Page 384

A Record Climb. THE FIRST ASCENT OF MOUNT RUWENZORI. By Hucu W. ‘TEGart. On May and, 1906, His Majesty's Commissioner in Uganda wrote: ‘I have the honour to inform you that Hie Majesty has been pleased to approve of the rock on Ruwenzori Mountain reached by you being called ‘King Edward’s Rock.’” The accompanying account of the first ascent of the great mountain and the discovery of the rock with which His Majesty has graciously allowed his name to be associated is written by Mr. Tegart, who was one of the Party on this historic occasion. w.v HEN one first gazes with wonder on the massive rocks of the Mountains hs of the Moon, one ceases to speculate 4] as to why it is that the native regards " with superstitious awe and dread the passes and snows he has never trodden, and why, as a rule, he refuses to go beyond the beaten track and endeavour to scale them. There have been many ascents of the Ruwenzori Range, as we nowadays call the Moun- tains of the Moon, but only two planned and determined at- tempts have been | made to conquer the highest peaks. Our party — con- sisting of Herr Grauer, a member of the German- Austrian Alpine Club, Mr. John- son, Mr. H. Mad- dox, F.S.L., and myself (the last two of the Church Missionary Society)—plan- ned our ascent in January, after a pre- liminary partial ascent had been made by Maddox and myself. This preliminary attempt, which was made in September, 1905, failed through the prevalence of continuous mists and rain. The ice -fall, however, was surmounted, and the watershed reached at fifteen thousand feet. All arrangements having been made for the trip, it was a relief to find ourselves together at the foot of the range, ready for the final ascent, after the long journey on the plains. Looking up at the grand though gloomy peaks towering \ From a) THE AUTHOR (ON LEFT) AND THE PIONEER PARTY ON THE SLOPES OF RUWENZORI. Illustrated by the author’s own photographs. above us, we began to realize the difficulty of the task before us. Our altitude above sea-level being now four thousand five hundred feet, we had about twelve thousand feet to do to make a successful climb. During our first day’s march we had to cross the very swiftly running Mubuku River, which has its source in the glacier to which we were bound, and there being no bridge we took to the men’s shoul- ders. The cross- ing of a swirling, rushing torrent on a man’s shoulders is a peculiar and at first terrifying experience. ‘There is an unpleasant feeling that one is about to be swept away by the water; and if to this is added a lack of faith in your bearer as he feels round with one foot for a level stepping- place amongst the loose stones, whilst — balancing himself precari- ously on the other, I can assure my readers that an in- experienced man will not be happy. An old hand, however, trusts his bearer implicitly, even though he stumbles, with the result that his confidence is well rewarded, for it is very seldom that an experienced traveller is dropped into the water. I could not but admire the hardi- ness of our mountaineers as they crossed and recrossed in the ice-cold glacier stream, sometimes bringing a boy and sometimes a load across. It was with gladness that I saw our boxes brought. across .in safety, for it (Photo.

Page 385

376 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. deep on the right and the mountain slope on the left. “Looking across to the other side of the valley the cause of this remarkable ridge was explained. In the far past there had been a gigantic landslip, for the line of fracture was clearly marked by vegetation on the edge of the corresponding precipice beyond. A three hours’ climb brought us to the first of the rock-shelters which Nature has so wonder- fully provided for the climber on this mountain. This one was formed by the overhang of an enormous stone resting in the centre of a level terrace in the midst of a bamboo forest. ‘The rock or stone recedes about twelve feet at its base, and underneath this overhang there is perfect protection from storms. After a rest we had a monotonous three hours’ march through the bamboo forest till we got to the swampy plateau in front of the Kichuchu shelter, and here we got into the mud. Oh, the labour of dragging one’s feet out of a knee-deep bog! At one bad place the laconic “Come back, brother,” told the men in the rear of the leader's dangerous predicament. At length, thoroughly wet and tired, we arrived at our place of refuge. Then a tin box hove in sight, and A PORTER WITH ICE-CLIMBING EQUIPMENT. From a Photo, requires a peculiarly even temper to see your best tin box dropped into the river, and to fulfil the Scriptural in- junction to “take joyfully the spoiling of your goods.” The above photograph shows one of our porters with ice-climb- ing equipment. After crossing this river an easy climb brought us to our first camping-place at Bubungu, a lovely spot on a spur of the hills which run out into the centre of the valley. This cosy little halting- place was near the camp of the British Museum Naturalist Expedition, and on paying a complimentary visit to our friends there we saw a feast of colour in bird plumage such as I had never realized Dame Nature had provided on this mountain. In the morning, after the usual trouble with the porters over pay, we got away, taking twenty-five loads of neces- saries for a ten da absence from human habitations. From our camp- ing-place we had to descend again about five hundred feet, through a lovely picce of tropical forest. ‘Then our way lay up a remarkable ridge, with a precipice some five or six hundred feet From a) ONE OF THE ROCK-SHELTER CAMPS, (Photo.

Page 386

A RECORD CLIMB. 377 the owner supplied us with his spare stockings and boots. I should here explain that boots never dry on Ruwenzori, so that spare footgear is very necessary. Our camping space was very limited, for the overhanging cliff afforded only ten feet of dry ground at its base. Outside that limit all was bog. By the exercise of some ingenuity space was found for the tent and our three-foot-square table, and after a meal we soon retired for the night. ‘The tent, I may mention, held the four of us; bedsteads were out of the question, and we simply slept on the ground. Being so closely packed made me restless, and about midnight I went out for a breath of fresh air. I was at once entranced with the scene spread out before me: a basin-like valley enclosed by cliffs and hills on every side, the tent looking a mere white dot under the huge overhanging cliff. Here was a group of figures huddled round a fire ; there another lying down. With the fire smouldering redly and a bright moon lighting up every detail of the camp and the morrow’s path up this great, unconquered mountain, it was a picturesque scene indeed. In the morning we climbed the face of the by fallen forests, hundreds of feet above its bottom.” I do not think, however, that there was a hole deeper than eight feet to be crossed, but a fall into even such a depth would be suffi- cient to put a man out of action. Anyhow, the forests were there, and to cross a piece of ground on treacherous, moss-covered trees required great caution, for the consequences of a slip would probably be a broken limb. Against such an event we had provided our- selves with a hypodermic syringe, intending, if necessary, to inject a drug which would make the patient insensible to pain while being brought down the mountain strapped to a pole. The last rock-shelter is a remarkable natural provision for the hardy mountaineer. It is a huge place, sufficiently large to accommodate over two hundred men. To see the porters and carriers in the holes of the rock looking up through the smoke reminded one forcibly of the ancient cave-dwellers. From this camp we determined to move forward nearer to our work, but, like everything in Africa, our end could only be attained after a row. In this case our men absolutely refused to take our GLACIEK CAMP, THE HIGHEST POINT AT WHICH ANY PARTY HAS CAMPED ON RUWENZORI. From a Photo. cliff, and then, passing over a level terrace covered with springy, carpet-like moss twelve inches thick, we soon arrived at a place which on our preliminary attempt we had approached with great trepidation of heart, for it had been vividly described to us as “a valley bridged Vol. xviii —48. loads forward. We expostulated with them, assuring them in the most solemn way that only we would sleep higher up the mountain, and that they should all return to this rock-shelter, but they would not move. We therefore pro- ceeded to break-up the combination. ‘Two of

Page 387

378 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. us went forward and called out a man at a time, who was handed over to a third, who hid him behind a rock out of sight of his fellows. He was then ordered by a fourth to take up his load and march, or else to go home and lose his wages. ‘Ihis treatment had the desired effect. We slept that night at what is now called the Glacier Camp, the highest point at which any party has camped on Ruwenzori. The march to it was very lovely ; the effect produced by the lichen hanging from the warped and twisted tree-trunks and the moss-covered ground being that of walking through a submarine forest. This camp is shown in the }-hotograph on the previous page. Glacier Camp was very exposed, but more cheer- ful than the one under the rock- shelter, being in the open, so that we felt we were still in the land of the living, and not more or less buried alive. There were swal- lows in the cliffs far above us, and an occasional hawk was seen, but with the ex- ception of these birds and a dark- other members of the expedition under their twenty-two blankets. Now began our real work, for, although we had already done nine thousand feet, it had been very easy going. We started early, and were soon over the first unpleasant piece with which we had to commence every day. Sir Harry Johnston's “tunnel” —depicted in the accompanying photograph —still remains the only means of access to the terrace on which the glacier abuts. The ropes left by different parties make it easy to get over the slimy rock. Next one passes under the huge, cromlech-like rock which caps the top of the entrance, and you are on the terrace, within fifty feet of the forbidding - look - ing glacier itself. I well remem- ber the first time we came up. The glacier was much lower, and there was a_ beautiful ice-cavern into which we were tempted to enter. One of us, how- ever, touched a hanging pendant of ice, and the crash of its fall warned us of the danger of our Position ; at any moment the whole fairy - like coloured moth there were no other signs of “ life. Our porters worked hard for us in their anxiety to get away from the dreaded presence of the evil spirit supposed to lurk in the heights above. They would not indicate the snow with a finger, but with clenched fist, this appearing to them to be a more respectful way of pointing and less likely to offend the demon, After having helped to level up a site for the tent with boulders and to set it, they left hurriedly for the rock-shelter below. Our first night at this camp was not comfort- able, for the ground was uneven and it was intensely cold. One voiced the needs of all by deciding to use his Nansen cap as a nightcap ; another bad provided himself with a home-made head-dress formed from two stockings split and sewn together. It was pleasant to hail the dawn —T had the most uncomfortable bed [have ever tried to sleep on—and to look round upon the THE PARTY TRAVERSING SIR HARRY JOHNSTON'S From a Phete. vault might col- lapse. Where we had then stood was now buried many feet below the huge masses of ice which had fallen in when the cavern gave Way. Quickly passing the point we had attained on our first attempt, we presently found our way blocked by precipitous walls of ice and rock. After a vain attempt to scale the almost perpen- dicular barrier, we remembered a likely-lcoking place which we had noticed on our preliminary trip, and two of our number went off to reconnoitre it. The ice was very hard, and step-cutting, in consequence, somewhat diffi- cult; but when this was finally accomplished ropes were let down and the remaining two of us hauled bodily up over the rock, thereby saving much time. It was an experience, how- ever, one would not wish to have repeated. We were now on a terrace which, with the TUNNEL.”

Page 388

A RECORD. CLIMB. 379 exception of one break, ran almost on a level with the glacier right to the top of the ice-fall. That break in the terrace was to us the crux of each day’s journey, but each attempt to reach it seemed more difficult than the last. On this, the first day, our leader surprised us by travers- ing the face of the rock, and we passed another man across to him with the aid of a rope. These two went ahead to reconnoitre, and reported that they could get on to the ice. We returned at once, as it was getting late, and took a new route down what turned out to be a veritable stone-shoot. It was the course of a tiny stream, which had, in the lapse of years, filled up every crevice with earth, and on this slope loose stones had lodged, giving a treacherous — sur- face for the feet. Sometimes dangerous stones had to be dis- lodged before we could pass, and these went can- noning down from boulder to boulder, — taking others with them in their headlong flight, till one began to think the whole hill was going after them. The danger was, of course, great, and the climbing slow, for one man had to: be under cover before an- other could move, for fear of having his brains dashed After reaching the snows a thick mist settled upon us, so that we could not get ahead at all ; and we therefore turned back and made a rapid descent. ‘I'he following day our leader, much against our wish, decided that we must rest. The fourth member of our party, Mr. Johnson, who had been unable to go with us, had done good service in our absence by levelling up our tent with such materials as he could find, and consequently we slept better at night. We now learnt for the first time of the desertion of our Mukonjo headman, this being due, we were told, to the death in the valley of his brother, who had been one of Sir Harry Johnston’s por- ters. Our head- man, it appeared, had been sent out to recon- noitre. He went some distance, and then, fearing that the evil spirit which had slain his brother might be awaiting him near the latter’s grave, he thought it best to safe- guard himself by clearing out alto- gether. The idea is firmly rooted in the native mind that no one dies naturally, but that death is always the result either of the malice of an enemy or the devil himself. On the third morning we were out by an ava- lanche of stones. On the second day we quickly jassed our highest point of the day before, and a little higher up found that we could get on to the glacier above the ice-fall. Putting on “crampons,” we made good pace over the naked glacier, reach- ing the permanent snow at fourteen thousand fect. All of us now felt much elated ; Ruwen- zori Gould no longer rear its head to the skies with its virgin snows unsoiled by human foot. ‘his height for the permanent snow-line would be a fair one, for the season at which we made our ascent is’the driest of the Toro year. From a) EQUATORIAL SNOWS—A MAGNIFICENT GLACIAL SCENE. up early, eager for our last at- tempt on the summit, but our leader would not move till half-past six. “What use would it be?” he asked. ‘We should not be able to retain our hold upon the ice-covered rocks.” And, as things turned out, it was a very good thing for us that he resisted our entreaties to start earlier. We made a quick ascent, knowing the road, and in three-quarters of an hour were above the first stone-shoot. We were getting forward to the second when we heard, far above us, a tremendous noise, and looking up saw a mighty avalanchefalling from a cliff on to the ([Pheto.

Page 389

380 THE WIDE glacier with a roar like thunder. We quickly made for the shelter of the rocks, test it should come down our gorge ; but happily it passed by without harming us. It was worth the climb if only to see this stupendous rush of snow and ice. After it had passed we pushed on, thankful that we had been delayed by our leader that three-quarters of an hour, for had we started earlier we should undoubtedly have been over- whelmed. The second bad piece of climbing seemed worse than ever this third morning, perhaps because we had discussed the place the night before. The difficulty was for the first man, and lay in getting over a bare three yards of ground. This morning our leader, thinking to make it easier for the second man, instead of waiting for him to get up alongside in a hole just big enough for two, where there was good anchorage for the second man to stay and steady him while making a short traverse, went across at once, and in doing so took the wrong step. For a minute he was in an exceedingly perilous position, for there was a gorge between us and we were powerless to help him or our- selves, being on soft ground with no anchorage. When I got to the same awkward place I also did a wrong thing in standing up with my face to the rock. Of course, I could not see where next to put my foot, and it was with some trepi- dation of heart that I got into a sitting position again. After passing this point it was plain sailing and we were suon on the track of the avalanche. Having been cautioned by our leader, if we heard any ominous sound, to throw ourselves flat on the snow and bury our heads in it, lest an avalanche should either carry us bodily away with it or knock our brains out, we carefully crossed the débrts of great blocks of ice and frozen snow. We were now under the shadow of a perpendicular cliff, which I should say would be part of the highest peak. Passing rapidly over the stretch we had done the day before, we arrived at a tract of fresh ground which had daunted us in the mist. Here we found a safe way across a crevasse, and were barely over when down came the mist, blotting out everything in its clammy folds, and for the rest of the day we could only move a yard at a time as the fog lifted for the moment and allowed us to see a little ahead. Climbing was now decidedly laborious work, for the snow on the steep ridges was deep and the air so thin, owing to the great altitude, that we soon got out of breath. We were spurred onward, however, by the pleasing consciousness that we were getting near our goal, for ahead could be seen the dim outline of a huge rock. WORLD MAGAZINE. But before long a yawning crevasse blocked our path, so we waited two hours for the mist to rise ere tackling it, and in the meantime had a very cold lunch. ‘There was a storm in the valleys below and hail was falling, so that there seemed more than a possibility of our having to beat a hasty retreat, but we stuck to our position, hoping that the weather might improve before our time limit was up for descending. At last our patience was rewarded by the sudden lifting of the mist. There before us, not fifty yards away, was a huge rock—a small peak, in fact. It lay right in the centre of the pass, while a snow-bridge offered an easy road across the crevasse, which we could now see was the water- shed for the glacier on the other side. In high spirits we sprinted for the rock, and had no sooner reached it than down came the mist again, completely enveloping us. But we cared little now—we had conquered the virgin peak. We had now only time for getting our altitude by the boiling-point thermometer, which we found to be, without corrections, fourteen thousand nine hundred and fifty-six feet, or, with the barometer, fifteen thousand and thirty feet. Allowing forty feet for the height of the rock, this gave fifteen thousand or fifteen thousand and seventy feet as the elevation of what Herr Grauer, on being appealed to by us, happily christened ‘King Edward’s Rock.” ‘The great boulder stands in a peculiar position, for on the British side it is approached by an easy rise, but on the Congo side there is a precipitous fall. After a cautious search we found a terrace-like platform, and in the centre an altar-like rock, where we placed a tin box containing our cards as a memento of our trip. Having left ourselves little time to get down, we came plunging through the snow in fine style, like boys let loose from school. Presently the mist cleared away, and we got some lovely views of the glacier and the surrounding peaks. We were surprised to be able to overlook what was described by Sir Harry Johnston as the “ Nob- Shaped Peak,” although we have since heard that this has been climbed by Mr. Woosman and Dr. Wilesten, of the British Museum Expedition, who reported it to be sixteen thousand feet high. Making for the rocks, we finished our reserve stock of provisions, amongst them some boiled eggs which, after a third trial, the boy had succeeded in getting farrdy hard after boiling them for nearly two hours! Water boils at such a low temperature in the mountains that things have not time tu heat properly if given the same time as on the plains, For instance, in ‘Toro water boils at a temperature of 203 degrees, whereas on King Edward’s Rock it boiled at 186°2 degrees.

Page 390

A RECORD CLIMB. 381 THE YEAK ON THE RIGHT, FIRST SCALED BY MR. TI EDWARD'S ROCK," BY GRACIOUS 1 From a} We had to be extremely careful in going down, for the rocks were wet and the earth on the shoot so slippery that we were compelled to make a rope fast to lower ourselves by. By this means Herr Grauer was able to descend safely after helping us down. Unfortunately the rope jammed and had to be left, but I heard that it was of great assistance to Mr. Woosman and the doctor in getting to King Edward’s Rock shortly after. The rest of the journey to the camp was easy. On our last morning we woke up to find rain falling, and, on looking out, saw the ground covered with snow. We settled down for a day in bed, for we had little hope of seeing our mountaineer porters; but they put in an ART'S PARTY, HAS BEEN NAMED “KING ION OF HIS MAJESTY. (Photo. appearance very early, clamouring for their loads, so we had to turn out, pack up in the rain, and set off. Some of the last men to get away were very cold, and I felt for them as they pleaded to be allowed to just warm their sticks at the fire! Having permitted them to do so we had next almost to drag them away from the cheerful blaze—for they had not the sense to know that they would feel better walking. Someone remarked that Ruwenzori was having a parting kick at us for desecrating her hitherto untrodden snows. I agreed with him, for we had to wade down through a rushing, ice-cold stream and, when clear of that, drag our weary limbs through mud and bog. But it was surely worth it, for had we not conquered Ruwenzori ?

Page 391

The Girl With Red Hair. THE STRANGE STORY OF A “HAUNTED” HOUSE. By THE VISCOUNT DE SOISSONS. A hard-headed French lawyer, scoffing at such things as ghosts, rented a house that had stood empty for years on account of its uncanny reputation. For some time all went well; then a series of unaccount- able happenings commenced, proving that there was indeed some mystery about the house. What the mystery was, and the curious manner in which it was elucidated, are described in the narrative. way) ETWEEN Asnitres and Bois de Colombe, France, there lies a house which for a long time remained un- tenanted, for the all-sufficient reason that, owing to mysterious sounds and lights issuing from behind its shutters at night, it had gained the reputation of being haunted. To the astonishment of the neighbours, how- ever, one day in 1899 the house was taken by M. Félix Brognard, a lawyer, who ridiculed the idea of ghosts, and took the place, as he told everyone, because it suited his taste and his pocket. A month after the contract had been signed and the workmen had put the place in order the Brognard family moved in. Six weeks passed by without hostile manifesta- tions on the part of the ghost or ghosts, and M. Brognard held that his contempt for and disbelief in spectres was justified. “1 LOOKED OVER MY SHOULDER, AND THERE SHE WAS JUST GLIDING AWAY.” Then, one day, the lawyer’s daughter, Julie, came into her father’s study obviously annoyed. “Really, father,” she said, “it will be im- possible to keep Marthe (the housemaid) if she goes on behaving in this extraordinary manner !” “What has she been doing to upset you?” asked the lawyer. “Tt isn’t the first time she has done it,” con- tinued Julie, in aggrieved tones. “If I leave my door ajar when I go into my room I hear a noise behind me, and the minute I turn round I see Marthe’s dress disappearing round the corner. Just now I looked over my shoulder, and there she was just gliding away.” “Well, well, she is only a country girl, and doesn’t know any better,” replied her father. “ Rebuke her ; and then, if she keeps on, I will give her notice.” Quite satisfied, the young lady left the room and went up to her mother. ‘The moment Mme. Brognard saw her daughter she ex- claimed :— “Do you know, Marthe is in a most awful state !” “Oh! What is the matter with her?” “She came to me just now and told me that if we were not satisfied with her she was prepared to leave. She says that you follow her all over the house and spy on her least movement. She affirms that she cannot move without having you after her.” “She must be mad!” cried Julie, in amazement. “That is more or less what 1 told her,” continued Mme. Brognard. “ When I ques- tioned her more closely as to the exact time and place when she last noticed you follow- ing her she could not tell me any- thing. She insists that if it is not VOOY

Page 392

THE GIRL WITH RED HAIR. 383 you who pursue her it is somebody else. I really cannot keep her if she is going to give me any more scenes with her ridiculous notions.” Mlle Brognard was silent; she could not help thinking there was some link between the mysterious espionage to which she had been subjected and what her mother had just told her. She therefore explained the whole thing, while urging the keeping of the maid for a little longer. Accordingly nothing was done, and for the next ten days the ladies had no complaints to make against Marthe. To make up for this lack of excitement, how- ever, strange noises began to pervade the house, and one day the cook vowed that she had seen a strange figure on the stairs. Obviously, Mme. Brognard told _ herself uneasily, the house was trying to live up to ils reputation of being haunted. One morning, a few minutes before breakfast, Julie ran into her mother’s room in a state of wild excitement. “Do you know,” she cried, “it was not Marthe who used to follow me about — it was a girl with red hair! I saw the hair distinctly in) my mirror while I was dressing. I could not see her face, but I am sure it is not Marthe.” Julie, still trembling, was talking in astrident, high-pitched voice, and Mme. Brognard looked at her very hard, for she thought the girl had temporarily taken leave of her senses. “Tf you had been able to prove anything against Marthe,” she said, “I would have dis- charged her, for she might pos- sibly have annoyed you as you said; but it is absolute non- sense talking about a_red- headed girl when there isn’t one in the house. It’s an hallucination, Julie; you must have been dreaming. I sce no other possible explanation for——” Ere Mme. Brognard had time to finish her sentence her husband = suddenly emerged from the bath room with blood streaming down his cheek. “What ever have you done, Félix?” cried his wife, in a flutter of alarm. “WHAT EVER HAVE YOU_DONE, FELIX}/ CRIED HIS WIFE.” “Done?” shouted the lawyer, angrily.“ It’s that confounded servant you have engaged with. out a word to me! She came into the bath- room like a lunatic, with her red hair all loose about her head, and started waving her arms about just as I was shaving. She made me jump, and I nearly cut my throat through her pranks.” ‘The two women looked at each other with blank amazement writ large on their faces. “T am not going to have a thing like that happen again,” continued M. Brognard, emphatically, dabbing at his bleeding face with a towel. ‘She must leave to-day without fail. I will admit no excuses on her part; I might have killed myself!” The women were still mute with astonishment, but Mme. Brognard, with an effort, found her tongue. “ But, Félix, I have engaged no new servant,”

Page 393

384 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. M. FELIX BROGNARD, THE From a) FRENCH LAWYER, WHO RELATED THIS STORY TO THE AUTHOR [Pheto, she stammered, “and, besides, nobody with red hair ever comes into this house.” “What?” roared the — lawyer, “Didn't I see her a minute ago as clearly as I see you? I’m not blind or mad, am I? I am absolutely positive I saw a red-haired girl.” “T really cannot explain it,” replied his wife; “it cannot be anything else but an illusion.” “JT suppose you call this gash an illusion?” asked the irritated lawyer. ‘You will make me wild with your systematic contradiction — of evidence !’ “T am denying no evidence,” retorted the lady; “it is you who are doing that. You say we have a red-headed woman in the house when we have not. Obviously it is either an hallucination on your part, or else, if you prefer to think so, a ghost!” “Rubbish!” growled the husband ; “there is somebody playing the fool about the house, and I intend to get to the bottom of the affair. I believe both your servants are cracked. ‘The cook, goodness knows, is superstitious enough to give me the shivers.” Misfortunes never come singly, and the mystery was furiously. TUALLY SUCCKFDKD, AFTE destined to be solved in a singularly rapid and dramatic fashion. Even as M. Brognard finished speaking a chorus of shrieks rang out, muffled by the distance; then Marthe’s voice was heard crying :— “Monsieur! Madame! Help! Jeanne is on fire!” At this the lawyer dropped his towel and went down to the kitchen two steps at a time, with the ladies at his heels. Writhing in agony on the floor of the kitchen was the cook, her clothing a mass of flames, which Marthe was vainly endeavouring to extinguish with a pail of water, screaming louder than the sufferer all the while. When she saw her master, however, she dropped the pail and cowered in a corner, covering her face with her hands. Pulling off his thick dressing-gown, the lawyer flung it over the prostrate woman, and eventually succeeded, after a hard struggle, in putting out the flames. Rescue came too late, however. When M. Brognard, badly scorched himself, rose OUT THE FLAMF6,"

Page 394

THE GIRL WITH RED HAIR. 385 to his feet the poor woman lay motionless, covered with horrible burns. Julie ran off at once for a doctor, while the others tenderly carried the unfortunate cook to her bed. When the man of medicine arrived he looked grave; death was only a question of hours, he said ; the poor woman could not possibly recover from her injuries. A short time elapsed, and the sufferer regained _ consciousness. Directly she opened her eyes she asked to see her master. “TI must confess before I die,” she told him, as he stood sorrowfully beside her. “Everything is the fault of the girl with red hair.” “So she crops up again!” mur- mured M. Brognard, shivering in- \ voluntarily. “The girl with red hair is my sister,” continued the dying woman, ina faint voice. “That is the nickname she was known by. A long time ago our family were rich and lived in this house, but my father was ruined, and died from the shock. The house was sold and we found ourselves penniless. After some time, seeing that the new proprietors did not come to live here, my sister and I secretly took possession of the empty house. As we only went out at nightfall, the neighbours, sometimes seeing moving lights and shadowy figures, spread the story that it was haunted and carefully avoided the place—which was just what we wanted them to do. We did our best to increase their alarm by making weird noises. For ten years we managed to keep the house empty; no one, as we had hoped, wanted to live in a haunted house. Then you took the place; the work- men came to do it up and we had to fly. As it was | difficult for you to find servantstolive inahaunted house, (7 1 offered myself.” The poor woman | paused for breath ; | then continued | with an effort: “At | | | | i} first we intended to poison you all, but my sister, who was always M. BROGNARD'S ‘From a) JULiR. 7 7 near Lane” eG eee ay oy pea oe CE ae | AT et entege ee te Kelis erence fe the leader in our plots, decided that that would not prevent other people from moving in, so we reverted to the ghost idea. I used to let my sister in by stealth, and we began a series of annoyances and noises which we hoped you, not being able to explain, would put down to ghosts and leave the house. As this means did not seem to be quick enough, we had arranged for a fire to break out in the cellar to-night—a fire which could not be explained : but I have been punished for my sin, for before I could carry out the plan I accidentally set fire to myself. Forgive me, monsieur.” “And what has become of your sister —the girl with red hair?” demanded the astonished lawyer. The dying woman looked at him - strangely. “T don’t know,” she answered, weakly. ‘She is a fiend, and——” Her head fell back on the pillow, and she lay there gasping. Not another word came from her lips before she died, not long afterwards, ‘There were many questions the puzzled lawyer would like to have asked, but he had perforce to refrain. M. Brognard and his family searched all over the house for some traces of the mysterious sister, but they could find nothing. Then, for the first time since their arrival in the place, the lawyer went to the disused stables at the back, and in the tuinous loft found signs of human habitation. Bent on getting to the bottom of the mystery, he caused inquiries to be made on every side, and at last found out from the owner of a little restaurant at Asnitres that a girl with flaming red hair and a wild | look in her eyes DAUGHTER (Photo, had taken some food there the day after the cook’s death, and then started off in the direction of Paris. ‘The great city ap- eae parently swal- ‘ee wueea wore 7" lowed her up ies ee effectually, for agi Ae nothing further age Le. could be learnt concerning her. Ghosts no longer , trouble the Bro- , gnard family, and they inhabit their | house in peace. A LETTER FROM M, DROGNARD REFERRING TU THIS STORY? Vol. xviii.—49.

Page 395

A Flight for Life. ToLp py Don Cartos Moraes, EX-PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC OF SAN DOMINGO, AND SET Down By E. H. F. Dorrtin, B.A. This unusual narrative has been exclusively written for “The Wide World Magazine.” In it ex-President Morales tells the graphic story of the events succeeding his overthrow as head of the turbulent Republic of San Domingo. For weeks he was a hunted fugitive, wounded, and all but starving, while vindictive enemies sought him high and low. The narrative gives a vivid idea of the instability of Central American Governments. FEW words of explanation are essential to a thorough comprehen- sion of the exciting occurrences herein recorded, which took place in San Domingo at the close of 1905 and in the early part of 1906. President Morales was in his youth a Romish priest. Like many prelates of old he was endowed with a larger share of military ardour and a greater inclination for politics than for things ecclesiastical. Possessed of a highly energetic character and a more than ordinarily enterprising dis- position, he was not long in attracting the special atten- tion of the terrible Heu- reaux, who for twenty years tuled San Domingo with a rod of iron. This was dan- gerous prominence, and became doubly so after his brother, General Agustin Morales, was killed in a vain attempt to wrest the Presidency from Heureaux. Asa result, Father Morales was banished from the Republic. The assassination of Heu- reaux by General Ramon Caceres, in the summer of 18y9, and the subsequent election of Don Juan Isidro Jimenez to the Presidency, afforded Morales the oppor- tunity of returning .to San Domingo, where he was promptly elected a repre- sentative to the National Congress. Soon afterwards he fell in love with a daugh- ter of one of the former governors of his province and, throwing off his allegi- ance to Rome, he married DON CARLO: WHO HERE WHICH RESULTED IN HIS DEPOSITION From a Photo. SS MORALES, TELLS THE EX-FRRSIDENT 0 her. This step caused his excommunication, but left him free to pursue a political career, which he preferred to his former calling. President Jimenez held office for two years, half the term for which he had been elected, and was finally driven into exile by the treachery of General Horacio Vasquez, his Vice-President, who seized the supreme position by force of arms. Morales followed Jimenez into exile, but his second term of expatriation was of short dura- tion. Nine months after- wards Morales joined the insurgent army, assisted in driving the usurper Vasquez from the country, made him- self governor of the pro- vince of Puerto Plata, and a few months later-——after a bloody struggle in which he signalized himself by many deeds of daring — led his victorious army into the capital, and seated himself in the Presidential chair. As a reward for the potent aid rendered him in_ his struggle for power, Presi- dent Morales made General Caceres his Vice-President, and two years later this officer in turn forced Morales from the Presidency and assumed the reins of Government, which he con- tinues to hold. The following account of his sufferings, after this occurrence and prior to reaching a place of safety, was‘ related by ex-Presi- dent Morales to the writer while in exile in the American island of Porto Rico. RY OF

Page 396

A FLIGHT FOR LIFE. 387 My sole aspiration on becoming President of San Domingo in 1904 was to lift my country out of the economical and political chaos into which it had been cast by previous despotic rulers, whose sole aim had been to enrich them- selves and their satellites, to the ruin and degradation of the nation. In spite of the magnitude of the undertaking and the numerous, and at times almost in- surmountable, barriers that obstructed my course, I pushed forward vigorously. My first efforts were crowned with success, and I had begun to hope that the destructive internal upheavals which have been the scourge of the Republic since its foundation had ceased. Peace reigned throughout the country, but its economical condition, though improved, was far from being encouraging. A debt of many millions weighed us down, and creditors were loud in their demands for settlement. This emergency was provisionally met by a compromise with the United States Government, which became responsible for our debt, receiving in turn, as a guarantee, the administration of our Custom-houses. This measure materially relieved the situation, but greater efforts were needed to insure the peace of the country and raise the fallen condi- tion of our agricultural resources. Careful study suggested a treaty with the United States which would cover the needs of the country in exchange for the greatest possible advantage in our commerce. The preparation of this treaty—one of the clauses of which provided that, in case of revolt and at the special request of the President of San Domingo, the United States should send troops to aid in maintaining order—laid me open to attack from my enemies in a vital spot. The San Domingan peasant is, to a great extent, illiterate, while the lower orders of town folk are extremely credulous; both are ex- cessively jealous of the independence of their country, hence these two elements were easily handled by intriguing politicians, who availed themselves of existing circumstances to circulate the alarming report that I was negotiating the sale of the country to the United States. Absurd as this rumour was, yet many believed it, and this for a time turned the tide of popular feeling against me, and afforded my Vice-President and his supporters an excellent opportunity to mature their plans for my downfall. Two or three attempts were made to assas- sinate me, and as the time approached for submitting the treaty to the Congress of the United States my position grew more and more perilous. My assassination was openly discussed at public resorts, and, surrounded as I was by secret enemies, I lived, as it were, within a circle of death. At least one American warship was always on guard in each of the seaports of the Republic for the purpose of protecting the Custom-houses in case of necessity and.to check smuggling, which had hitherto been carried on to a great extent. One day towards the end of November, 1905, two of these warships lying in the roadstead at the city of San Domingo began to manceuvre, one of the evolutions being the transhipment of men and arms from one vessel to the other. Somebody or other, observing these man- ceuvres, and doubtless instigated by my enemies, at once circulated the rumour that in order to extricate myself from my critical situation I bad sought aid from the Americans, and that the warships in the port were then in the act of disembarking troops destined for my support. The alarm spread through the city with great rapidity. Bugles blared, drums beat, and the wild cry of “Arm, arm, the invader is upon us!” ran from mouth to mouth, while citizens of all ages hastily grasped what weapons they could lay hands on and rushed to the fort, where the regular troops were already under arms. ‘The fortress commands the roadstead, and from it, sure enough, boatloads of armed marines, equipped for an attack, were to be seen plying between the ships. Many were the fierce glances and muttered curses directed at the ships and their crews, as the fortress guns were manned and ammunition served out, while the men hastened to the posts assigned them in the coming conflict. At this juncture General Luis Tejera, the governor of the city, selecting fifty men and ordering the commander of the fortress to take no action until instructions were received from him, rushed, sword in hand, to the palace. I was that morning closeted with the Ameri- can Minister and General Caceres, the Vice- President, and was quite ignorant of what was transpiring in the city. Suddenly a soldier rushed into the apartment and announced that General ‘Tejera had entered the palace at the head of a detachment, and with shouts and oaths demanded admittance to my presence in order that I might explain the hostile attitude of the American warships in the bay. I knew Tejera well, and understood that his intention was to provoke a quarrel which would end in my assassination. I realized that the situation was grave, and that my life would probably depend on the boldness and promptness of my action. My resolution.was soon taken ; 1 would have

Page 397

388 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. I had been aware for some time of the weak- ness of my posi- tion, and this oc- currence showed me only too clearly how help- less I was. The wilful miscon- struction placed on my actions grieved and mor- tified me, but still I was not shaken in my determination to pursue the course I had mapped out. After the panic created by the harmless — man- ceuvres of the “4 SOLDIER RUSHED INTO THE APARTMENT AND ANNOUNCED THAT GFNERAL TEJERA HAD ENTERED THE PALACE.” American — war- Tejera admitted, and at the first gesture of insubordination or disrespect shoot him dead, impose my authority on his followers, and master the situation. Failure meant death, but inaction would be equally fatal. I glanced at my companions. The counten- ance of the American Minister wore a look of deep anxiety. Vice-President Caceres had risen and was leaning on the arm of his chair, his head slightly bowed in meditation, and an expression of indecision on his face. My orderly, a powerfully-built man in the prime of life, stood a few paces away calmly awaiting my orders. I knew him well, and was certain that I could rely on his loyalty and courage. I drew my revolver and placed it on the table before me ; then, addressing the orderly, I said : * Admit General ‘Tejera, but allow none of his followers to accompany him.” The man saluted and retired. On hearing this order General Caceres seemed to take a sudden resolution. LExcusing himself, he hastily withdrew, and I was left alone with the American Minister. I waited a few minutes, and then, as Tejera did not appear, I summoned my orderly, who informed me that ‘Tejera, accompanied by General Caceres, .had withdrawn with his men. What passed between Caceres and Tejera I never learnt, but the latter retired without seeing me, and the excitement in the city subsided as quickly as it had arisen. ships had sub- sided my situation grew daily more precarious, until I was finally reduced to a condition little better than that of a prisoner in my own palace. I had sought to govern constitutionally, but at last I had actually become the victim of the despotic factions that surrounded me. To continue much longer under such circumstances meant to expose myself to certain destruction. There was but one course left for me to pursue if I would extricate myself from the difficulty— to escape from the capital, gather my supporters together, and return with an army strong enough to enforce law and order. Of the many generals who had formerly supported me there yet remained a few on whom I could rely, and to one of these I communicated my plans, ordering him to proceed at once to Jaina, a village situated a few leagues from the capital. Here he was to gather what forces he could muster with the greatest possible dispatch and notify me when he had completed his preparations, in order that I might join him. On the morning of the. 24th of December I received word from the general that he had mustered two hundred men and was then encamped on the outskirts of Jaina, where he desired me to join him as soon as possible. I determined to do so that very night, and made the necessary arrangements to leave the city secretly, for discovery, I knew, meant instant death. ‘ At seven o'clock that night, after taking a

Page 398

A FLIGHT tender leave of my wife and children, I set out with one trusty follower for the place where a carriage was waiting to take me part of the way. A better night for my flight could not have been chosen. Although the hour was early it was intensely dark. Huge banks of black clouds rolled up from the south, blotting out the stars, while a chill wind moaned dismally through the trees. The electric lights illuminat- ing the streets at intervals shone with a yellow glare in the heavy atmosphere, and, while they showed objects within their radius brightly enough, they but intensified the darkness between the circles of light. ‘These dark spaces —the street corners and old ruins—were par- ticularly dangerous spots for me, for it is in such localities that assassins lurk, to pounce upon their victims when least expected. Our shadows and those of the few wayfarers we met assumed the most fantastic shapes in the fitful light, seeming at times to approach, at others to retreat, and sometimes to dart around corners as if in the act of springing; and, alert as we were for a sudden attack, more than once our hands instinctively sought the butts of our revolvers. We were, however, fortunate enough to reach our carriage without mishap, and the horses took us away from the city at a rapid pace. The journey to Jaina was uneventful, but my surprise and disappointment were great when, instead of the two hundred men I expected to find under arms, a few officers and fourteen youths, armed with revolvers, were all the troops that welcomed me. However, the die was cast and all retreat cut off ; my only course was to take the necessary measures to ensure our safety before the beginning of the pursuit which would naturally follow the discovery of my flight. I did not know then that I had scarcely left the city an hour when my escape was detected and a detachment of troops sent in hot pursuit. The general tried to explain the absence of the troops I had expected to meet by saying that the men had promised to muster that night and would undoubtedly soon begin to arrive. I took up my quarters in a little hut at the place where the men were expected to muster, and after posting the necessary _ sentries proceeded to hold a council of war with the officers present and to lay my plans for the coming campaign. It was not until about three in the morning that I decided on the course I should pursue, and gave the necessary instructions to my ofticers, As yet none of the men expected had arrived, and we lay down to snatch a few hours’ repose before beginning a day that was fated to be one of the most eventful in my life. FOR LIFE. 38y There was no furniture whatever in the hut. Most of my companions sat on “yaguas” (the hard lower stem of the leaf of the Royal palm), which they now converted into couches. One of them, however, furnished me with a ham- mock, which was slung to the centre rafter of the hovel. It was very cold, with a heavy, damp mist that rose from the river close by. Uncomfort- able though we were, it would have been the height of imprudence to light a fire, but in spite of thé discomfort it was not long before the old campaigners among us had fallen asleep, and even those whose first experience it was finally succumbed to their exhaustion. I must have slept for a little over an hour when I was aroused by a deep voice calling : “Alert, there, alert; the enemy is upon us !” A single bound brought me to the side of the sentinel, who was standing at the door of the hut. “What’s the matter?” I asked, as I buckled on my revolver. “There is a large force advancing in our direction and reconnoitring as they approach,” reported the sentry. “ May they not be some of the fricnds we are expecting ?” “That -is not possible, as they are coming from the village, and our people would arrive from the opposite direction. Besides, they are too numerous, and their movements too cautious. There is not the slightest doubt that they are Government troops who have learnt in the village that we are encamped in this locality.” I accompanied the sentry to a spot about a hundred yards from the but, which, at that distance, was completely hidden from sight by the thick foliage. ‘The position we occupied was slightly elevated above the surrounding country, thus affording a view for many miles in the direction whence the troops were advancing. A strong breeze had sprung up, dispersing the mist, and although the sun had not yet risen there was sufficient light to distinguish objects at a considerable distance. _ Looking in the direction indicated by the sentry I saw a detachment of about fifty men at a distance of not more than three hundred yards. They had picketed their horses, and, dividing into two companies, were from different directions preparing to ascend the little wooded knoll where our hut was situated. I could distinguish their uniforms, which showed them to be regulars, and their movements were so precise and cautious that I could no longer doubt that they had received correct information as to our location, and were preparing to take us by surprise.

Page 399

390 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. There was not a moment to be lost. We must beat a hasty retreat, or be caught between a cross-fire before many minutes had elapsed. Unfortunately the only route left open to us led up the slope of a chain of hills covered with thick brush, which, however, was not high “CTHRRE IS A LAR enough in some places to completely conceal us, and it was extremely likely that we should be seen before reaching the woods. Directing my companions to separate into groups of twos and threes, and to meet me, should we not unite before, at the farm of a friendly Spaniard about three miles distant, we started at a rapid pace in the hope of escaping the notice of the enemy. It would have been madness to have attempted resistance, as the enemy outnumbered us by nearly four to one, and were well equipped with Mauser rifles, while we were only armed with revolvers. My own companions were the sentry who had given the alarm and a guide who preceded us. We had travelled for about ten minutes, crouch- ing among the brushwood wherever it was not high enough to cover us, when I heard a loud shout, immediately followed by a hailstorm of Mauser bullets, which whistled about us menacingly. We were crossing the most exposed portion of the hill at the time, and, looking in the direction of the firing, I saw a group of FORCE ADVANCING IN OUR DIRECTION,’ REPORTED THE SENTRY.” eight or ten soldiers charging towards us about a hundred yards away. ‘They were led by a young officer, who, in his eagerness to overtake us, had outstripped his men by a few yards. “What abominable marksmen!” exclaimed my companion, the sentry, with contempt. Halting, he raised the heavy Smith and Wesgon revolver he carried, and, regard- less of making him- self an casy mark for the pursuers, he took deliberate aim and fired. The shot was an excellent one; the officer lurched forward and fell in a heap. The soldiers stopped for a moment to aid him, and we dashed off at our best speed, making the most of the momentary diver- sion. The respite was short, however, for although the pursuers had lost sight of us they kept up a con- stant random fire while they continued the pursuit. Suddenly the guide made a sharp turn to the left and disap- peared as if the earth had swallowed him, and the next moment I had to grasp the shrubs to save myself from going headlong over a cliff. “This way, this way !” he cried. Leaning over the edge of the precipice I saw him rapidly descending by the aid of the roots and bushes. Any hesitation on my part about following was cut short by a shower of bullets fired at random, one of* which severed a slender branch I was grasping. Although a heavy man, I swung myself over the edge of the cliff and began to descend rapidly. The vines hung around me in great profusion, like the cordage of a huge ship, while some thirty yards beneath flowed the River Jaina. * The vines and roots, though swaying and yielding somewhat to my weight, bore me well, and I had descended the first few yards with perfect ease when, grasping a shrub that had evidently been loosened by the weight of the guide, it came away by the roots and I was hurled from a height of over twenty feet to the ground beneath.

Page 400

A FLIGHT FOR LIFE. 39t ‘Though half a A % Wa, stunned, I did + not feel hurt; the soft soil had broken my fall. Pulling myself together, I at- tempted to rise and follow my companions, both of whom had reached the base of the cliff in safety and were nowa short distance ahead. I had no sooner gained my feet, however, than my legs seemed to give way under me and I sank help- lessly to the earth. A second attempt proved. equally fruitless ; I could no longer stand. At first I thought that one of the stray bullets had wounded me, but there was no bleeding, so I concluded that I must have sprained my leg in the fall. Seeing that I did not rise my companions hastened back to see what was the matter and to lend their aid if necessary, but although they set me on my feet it was impossible for me to take a step. My position was now perilous in the extreme. The enemy was but a short distance away and would be upon us in a few minutes. What was to be done? To remain where we were was certain death, and there was no place where we could conceal ourselves. To cross the river was impossible, for there was no boat and the ford was some distance lower down. Even had there been a boat available, an attempt to gain the opposite bank would have exposed us to instant detection, and it would have been easy for our pursuers from the top of the cliff to pick us off. We were aroused from our momentary in- action by hasty footsteps. ‘The enemy are “(1 WAS HURLED FROM A HEIGHT OF OVER TWENTY FEET TO THE GROUND BENRATH.” upon us, lads,” cried I. “Save yourselves. There is no reason why you should share my fate. You can do nothing to save me. Away, away !” I sat grasping my revolver, but my com- rades. did not move. “Tt is mad- ness to remain,” I cried. “I command you to leave me!” “Not yet, Sefior Presi- dente,” said the sentry, coolly ; “we are not cowards, and I, for one, shall not budge.” We had time to say no more. A dozen men came rushing towards us. The sentry raised his revolver to fire, but as quickly lowered it, and the next moment we weresurrounded by the entire body of my companions, who had met in their attempt to reach the ford and cross over to the opposite bank. They were accom- panied by General Enrique Jimenez, who was on his way to our rendezvous when he fell in with my fleeing companions, Although only a young man of twenty-five Jimenez had already won great prestige and was consequently eagerly welcomed by our party. On arriving at the spot where I lay helpless, they were all much disconcerted at my mishap, but there was no time to be wasted in fruitless lamentation, as the enemy were in hot pursuit and had only been baffled thus far on account of their ignorance of the locality. A couple of the strongest of the band formed a chair with their arms, in which I placed myself, and we set out at a brisk pace in the hope of reaching the ford before our foes came up with us,

Page 401

392 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. We had gone but a short distance when one of the young men, Pedro Pupilo by name, who was thoroughly acquainted with the country, indicated a spot where we could hide in safety until our pursuers should have left the neighbourhood. As I have already said, the face of the cliff was overgrown with shrubs, and in places a thick network of vines covered it with an im- penetrable curtain of verdant foliage. Pupilo approached one of these spots where the vegetation was most exuberant and, carefully separating the shrubs and vines, disclosed an aperture extending some distance into the base of the cliff. Into this cave we hastened and, carefully replacing the foliage, crouched down to await developments. Our pursuers had evidently grown tired of wasting their ammunition, for the firing had ceased and deep silence reigned about us, broken only by the soft patter of the water dripping from the roof of the cave. Soon small groups of our enemies began to pass our hiding-place ; they came so near that we could distinctly hear their exclamations of disgust at our escape, and their threats of what they would do with us when they caught us. From their conversation we also Icarned that the commander of the troops sent to apprehend us was a delegate to the National Congress, by the name of Rubirosa, that he led a force of over two hundred men, was encamped on the highway between the capital and Jaina, and had sent out small detachments in every direction to seek us. As Rubirosa was a crucl leader the men were fearful of the reception that awaited them on returning with their Wounded captain to report that we had made good our escape. Gradually the search parties got farther and farther away, and at last, after we had assured ourselves that the enemy had left the vicinity, we set out for the farm of the friendly Spaniard, where we hoped to obtain shelter and aid. When we arrived near the place I dispatched my faithful) Pupilo—on whose courage and discretion I could rely —to warn the Spaniard of our proximity, and to request his hospitality. I also dispatched the few officers that were with me in order that they might carry out the instructions I had previously given them. Enrique Jimenez, however, refused to leave me until I had reached a place of safety, and we kept the remaining ten or twelve youths with us as an escort. My injured leg was now very much swollen and extremely painful. The slightest movement of the limb produced excruciiting pain. Towards midday Pupilo returned. The wife of the Spaniard sent us food, but regretted being unable to receive us at her homestead, as General. Rubirosa had that morning arrested her husband on the charge of aiding us in our flight and had sent him as a prisoner to the city. She feared, she added, that the place was being watched. This disagrceable news decided us to return to the mountains that very night and await developments there. That evening, as we. were setting out, we observed.a great conflagration at a few miles’ distance, in the direction of the residence of our friend the Spaniard. General Rubirosa, suspecting that we had taken refuge there, had not only set fire to the dwelling, but to the adjoining fields as well, in the hope of destroy- ing us like*rats in their burrows. We had miraculously been saved from a terrible death. Our life after this occurrence was one long term of suffering. ‘The hunt for us was kept up with such zeal that it soon became extremely perilous to sleep two nights at the same place. At one time we were almost starving and at the next dying of thirst. Thad become as helpless as an infant, and was moved from place to place with the greatest difficulty to my faithful com- trades and the most excruciating anguish to myself. Had I not been disabled our condition could never have become so desperate, for then it would have been easy to reach a place of safety, and 1 could have opened my campaign against my enemies. As it was we were help- less fugitives struggling for life, with our very existence practically dependent on the daring and resource of our guide, Pupilo. It was he who supplied us with food whenever it could be procured, and it was also he who arranged for the change of hiding-place each day and brought us such news as he could glean from the country folk from whom he procured provisions. ‘Thus we learned that General Demetrio Rodriguez had risen in arms and, advancing from Monte Cristi, had sent detachments to attack Santiago, San Pedro de Macoris, and Samana, while he himself attacked Puerto Plata, in the hope of saving me. For a short time hope rose high in our breasts, only to be dashed to the ground by the news of the death of General Rodriguez at Puerto Plata and the total defeat of his troops. After these occurrences our pursuit was con- tinued with still greater vigour; the circle of death seemed to close in on us, and on more than one occasion the enemy came so near that we could hear their conversation. Those were indeed moments of anguish, as starving, thirsty, in great bodily pain and mental affliction, I lay helpless, hidden among the grass and vines, expecting momentarily to be detected,

Page 402

A FLIGHT FOR LIFE. 393 dragged forth, and butchered by a fierce and merci- less soldiery to the accompaniment of jeers and impreca- tions. I could distinctly hear their brutal jests as to my probable condition and place of conceal- ment and listen to their savage laugh- ter over the coarse witticisms at my expense made by one of their num- ber. In the depth of my despair I was more than once tempted to shoot down the nearest of my enemies from my place of conceal- ment, and at least to die fighting, but by a supreme effort I overcame the mad desire and lay still until my pursuers went their way. I now felt that my cause was hopeless, and determined no longer to imperil the lives of my comrades ustlessly. I also made up my mind to make a last attempt to save myself. On the fourteenth day after being reduced to “I HAD BECOME AS HELPLESS AS AN INFANT, AXD WAS MOVED FROM PLACE TO PLACE WITH THE GREATEST DIFFICULTY.” each who separate with little hope of ever meeting again, my companions this miserable condition I dismissed my remain-- ing companions. At first they positively refused to abandon me, and it was only after I had explained that the one hope of saving our lives depended on our separation that they reluc- tantly obeyed my command to return to their homes. General Enrique Jimenez was the only one I permitted to remain, as he firmly refused to leave me under any circumstances, very correctly asserting that his services were indis- pensable to me. As my other comrades were of obscure political significance and resided in the capital, I decided that my faithful Pupilo should contrive to smuggle them into the city, where they could remain in seclusion until it was safe for them to appear in public. I then instructed Pupilo that on his way back Vol. xviii —60. he should seek to obtain an inter- view with the American Consul —whose residence was in the country a short distance from the city—in- form him of my desperate — condi- tion, and request him to negotiate with General Caceres for my return. This was an extremely diffi- cult mission, and one that I im- posed with reluct- ance on the faith- ful fellow ; but he accepted it with pleasure, proud of the confidence I placed in his courage and dis- cretion. When the hour of parting arrived, after a warm em- brace, such as can only be given by men in the last extremity who honour andesteem other, and tore themselves away. Jimenez and I watched them disappear in the twilight, and when the deepening shades of night and the intervening trees finally hid them from sight I could hardly suppress a sigh for the brave fellows, who were probably wending’ their way to death. When nothing more could be seen of them Jimenez took me on his back, and in utter anguish of mind and body I was slowly borne to my cave— the same one that had first afforded me shelter on the fatal day that I hurt my leg. ‘There we lay on our “yaguas” awaiting the return of Pupilo, too sad and thoughtful to talk. A weary night was followed by a dreary, interminable day, but Pupilo did not appear, and as the second night after his departure wore slowly away we lay vainly straining our ears to catch the welcome sound of our guide’s return- ing footsteps. The following day dawned bright and beauti- ful. A golden sunbeam stealing through the

Page 403

394 “JUMENEZ TOOK MB ON HIS BACK.” thick trellis of leaves that curtained the mouth of our cave played joyously on the rocky floor, as though in mockery of our hopeless condition. Pupilo had not returned, and we had been with- out provisions since the preceding day. Some serious misfortune, we thought, had surely befallen him, else he had not so long delayed. At last Jimettez decided to go in search of food, and, divesting himself of his coat, boots, and socks in order to resemble a poor peasant as closely as possible, he prepared to leave the cave. Before he could do so, however, we were startled by a volley of musketry at no great dis- tance. We gazed at each other in dismay. What could be the cause of the firing? We - listened breathlessly for some further sound, and after some minutes of suspense the clear notes of a bugle rang out on the still morning air. It was the order to march. There could be no doubt about it—there was a detachment of troops in the vicinity of our retreat, and some- one had just been executed. Could it have been Pupilo ? Our anxiety outweighed our fear of the danger, and Jimenez cautiously crept forth to ascertain, if possible, the cause of the firing and to seek food. He was gone for many hours and it was late in the afternoon when he returned, bringing some bread and cheese which he had purchased in the village. His disguise had served him well. He had contrived to learn the news from an unsuspecting soldier, who had been only too glad tq “wet his whistle” with a draught of THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “aguardiente” (a kind of rum) from the peasant’s gourd. From him Jimenez learned ‘to his horror that it was indeed poor Pupilo who had been shot that morn- ing. Pupilo had faith- fully discharged his mission, but on his way back the night before had been cap- tured when quite close to our hiding- place. Disarmed and deprived of his little bag of provisions, he was marched off be- tween the two soldiers .who had arrested him. Thus guarded he walked quietly on for a little distance ; then, hoping to make good his escape in the darkness, he suddenly sprang upon one of the soldiers and, wrenching the musket from his grasp, felled him with it. Unfortunately, before he could repeat the blow he was himself struck down by the other soldier, securely bound, and taken before the cruel Rubirosa. In the examination that followed his capture Pupilo acknowledged to General Rubirosa that he was my guide and knew where I was, but would give no further information. Rubirosa offered him a large reward to betray my place of concealment, but Pupilo laughed scornfully, replying that he was poor and ignorant, but not a traitor. When bribes and threats alike failed to elicit from him the desired information, Pupilo was told that he would be allowed until seven o'clock next morning to disclose my hiding- place. If he complied he would receive a large reward, but if he did not he would be shot at that hour. He was then bound hand and foot and placed under a strong guard. At the appointed hour in the morning Pupilo was again taken before Rubirosa, who repeated his inquiry as to. where I was, but Pupilo refused to answer. Then, in a rage, the General ordered him to be taken out and shot. Care- lessly shrugging his shoulders, Pupito answered : “General, by shooting me you only rid the country of a poor peasant who will be of little loss to the Republic, but the death of Don Carlos would deprive the country of a man of great value.”

Page 404

A FLIGHT FOR LIFE. 305 “WITH JIMENEZ “ Away with him!” yelled Rubirosa, furiously. “When I take your Don Carlos I will send him to keep you company in Hades!” Poor, loyal Pupilo! He was laid in a shallow grave beneath the huge forest trees. May his blood and that of such heroes as he redeem our fallen country ! After this sad occurrence I determined to make an effort to reach the residence of the American Minister. With myself disguised as | | : From a} THE EXILED PRESIDENT'S COTTAGE AT SAN JUAN. a peasant, mounted on a sorry nag laden with plan- tains, and with Jimenez tramping by my side, we set out in the afternoon, two days later, and, after escaping many dangers, succeeded in reaching the Minister’s residence in safety. Matters were soon arranged. I tendered my resignation to the National Congress; it was immediately accepted, and General Caceres appointed President in my stead. On the fol- lowing day I left for Porto Rico on the American gunboat Dudbugue. On my arrival in San Juan I was received by the American officials with the honours due to my rank, and was made the object of every courtesy and atten- tion. I was immediately taken to the Naval Hospital, where my broken leg was treated. At first I feared that I should lose the limb, and I am indebted to the skill of the naval physicians for its preservation. My warmest thanks would be but a mild expression of my gratitude to the gentlemen who represent the American Govern- ment in this island, and to the faithful friends who so gallantly stood by me in the dark days of my downfall. (Photo.

Page 405

The Land of Beggars. By Freprric Lees. Brittany, says the author, is undoubtedly the land of beggars; there is no place on the globe where mendicants have a better time. Roa! ALKING along a dusty road just oe) outside the fortifications of Paris, a ; friend of mine, one day last summer, met a careworn tramp. “Salut, monsieur!” said the ragged fellow, touching his cap as he stopped ; “can you spare a copper, sir, for a poor chap who's down on his luck?” The ten-centime piece was received with profuse thanks. About to proceed on his journey, my friend, much to his surprise, received a second demand from the chemineau, but this time for information. ‘“ Beg pardon, monsieur,” he said, respectfully ; “if I may be so bold, may I ask you a question? Can you tell me what part of the country is least dangerous for such as I; a part where it is not thought a crime to be poor?” “That is easily answered,” replied my friend, with a laugh at the beggar’s originality; ‘there’s no place in the world where mendicants have such a good time as in Brittany. If you never want to do another day’s work, go to Brittany. But my advice is — continue on your journey into Paris, where there’s great need of able-bodied men like you.” Much __ obliged, sir!” exclaimed the tramp. “But I’ve got no trade, and I'm not much of a hand at labourers’ work, so I think I'll try Brit- tany first.” And with these words he promptly turned his back on the capital and began his walk to the - land of beggars. Yes, Brittany is certainly fe pays des mendiants, and my friend was quite correct in saying that Among them are to be found some most curious types of humanity, as the accompanying article shows. Photographs by Paul Géniaux. there is no place on the globe where mendicants have a better time than they do there. Mendi- cancy has for centuries been regarded by the Bretons almost as a virtue. In their eyes it is a perfectly honest and honourable profession. Almost everybody has received charity at least once in their lives, with the result that, generally speaking, about an eighth of the population may be classed as professional beggars. ‘There are some parishes—for instance, between Quimper and Quimperlé — where the percentage of mendicants is even larger. ‘The curé of one locality assured me that, out of a total of three thousand inhabitants, he knew personally nearly eight hundred who begged. “There are many reasons for this strange frequency of beggars in Brittany,” he replied, in answer to my inquiries. “First of all, I am afraid that habit has a good deal to do with it, and that my confréres the monks are to blame for having en- couraged the Bretons to beg. In former years, and particularly about a century ago, there used to be periodic distributions of food at every monastery and religious _ establish- ment. Anyone who asked for food on certain days was sure to receive, with the result that men, women, and children for miles around flocked thither. On those occa- sions all work was aban- doned. ‘Things are differ- ent now, but the habit of begging has remained amongst the people, and I suppose it will not disappear altogether until a new generation has grown up. Another Google

Page 406

THE LAND OF BEGGARS. 307 cause of this sad state of affairs is the lax way in which the law against begging i§ put into force. The local authorities do hardly any- thing to put down the evil. Perhaps they think that where the great Napoleon failed they can- not possibly succeed, but personally I think something might be done to reduce the large numbers of beggars who infest the country. It is a fact, you know, that Bonaparte, who_ won so many battles, lost the day when he attempted to suppress the beggars of Brittany. His dépdts de mendicité, which were placed all over the country, were utter failures. As the writer Fodéré well puts it, ‘The beggars scoffed at him who scoffed at kings. He has From a] passed away, but mendicity has survived.’ And it w7// survive, I am afraid, as long as the people remain charitable and superstitious. The Bretons encourage begging by giving to everyone who asks for alms. Some feel that they cannot refuse to lend a helping hand, and these act, of course, out of pure charitableness ; others give because they fear that the consequences of refusing would be disastrous, and these are prompted by the belief that beggars possess supernatural powers, which they can use against the uncharitable.” In a country where mendicants are so plenti- ful as this it is only natural that all classes of beggars, and some of them very strange ones, should be found there; and as I have, figuratively speaking, rubbed shoulders with A GRouP OF “ PILGRIM” BEGGARS AT A RELIGIOUS FESTIVAL, OR representatives of most of them, I cannot do better than enumerate some of the more curious types. There are what are called ma/in- greux —that is to say, malingerers, or counterfeit cranks ; francs mitoux, who pretend that they suffer from all sorts of maladies ; sabou/eux, or simulators of epilepsy ; cogur//ards, or pilgrims, who go from shrine to shrine; routers, or, as we call them, stagers ; and a host of others who may be classed under the general heading of tatterdemalicns. Of these, the so-called pilgrims are the best worth studying. You will find them in large numbers wherever there is a religious féte. At the Pardon.of Ste, Anne la Palud, for instance, they are so numerous as to “ PARDON. (Photo. make one wonder if all the ragged gentry of Brittany have not gathered there. Especially is this the case when they collect together in the evening, generally in a large field, where the oldest coguillard proceeds to divide the money which the generous Bretons have poured into their money-boxes on entering and leaving the church, This communistic proceeding inspired me with a certain feeling of respect for the Breton beggar, but when I saw in what way he employed the alms he had received I felt nothing save disgust. No sooner has the distribution taken place than the money is converted into wine and cider, and the meeting in ar incredibly short space of time becomes uproarious. Never have I seen such orgies as those which are to be witnessed annually at Ste. Anne a

Page 407

398 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a) A COLLECTOR OF BREAD. {Photo. la Palud. As a general rule this charge of drunkenness holds good against all the beggars of Brittany. ‘The marchand de vin invariably profits by the charitableness of the - people of this part of France,” said one candid mendiant whom I met on the road leading into Concarneau. He was a collector of bread, and he told me that he sometimes succeeded in filling the large sack which he was carrying over his shoulder. ‘ But what do you do with such a large quantity of food as that?” I asked, wondering if his appetite was really so voracious as to require it all. “ After I have eaten what I want,” he replied, “JT take the rest to the poultry farm and selt it for what I can get. And little it is, too, that I can squeeze from those wretched marchands de poulets. _ However, I get enough to supply me with liquor. A hot day, sir, isn’t it? Will you stand a poor man a drink ?” More interesting even than the gathering at Ste. Anne la Palud is the “ Beggars’ Féte” of St. Jean du Doigt. Here there con- gregate not merely pilgrim-beggars, but the halt, the blind, and the destitute, from within a radius of fifty miles. Sellers of so-called “miraculous water” abound, such as that healthy - looking couple whom my collaborator photographed on one occasion at St. Jean; idiots dressed in feminine clothes, as is the custom all over Brittany, stand with vacant looks and outstretched hats or tin cans at every turning ; cu/s-de-jatte, or legless men, squatted on low wheeled vehicles, get in your way at almost every yard whilst walking to the church to attend the grand mass which is celebrated in their honour; and ¢rre-laine, or thieves, of both sexes have crowded into the cemetery from as far afield as ‘T'régorris or Léon. It is a strange sight to see these hundreds of mendicants gathered around the old church, some of them shouting with all the lustiness of healthy men and women, others almost tearing the coat from your back in their eagerness to obtain alms, and others again sitting silently in corners waiting to be pitied and paid the price of their wretchedness. Artists and tourists come from all parts to witness this curious spectacle, which, but for the Norfolk jackets of the men and the light-coloured dresses of the ladies, would carry you back to the fifteenth century, when the féte was first held. Picturesque though this gathering undoubtedly is, it is far surpassed, however, by the ceremony From a) SELLERS OF SO-CALLED ‘MIRACULOUS WATER." (Photo,

Page 408

which takes place in the evening. About the time that the sun is setting all the beg- gars descend to- wards the sea and, spreading them- selves out on the beach, proceed to bathe. It is per- haps the only bath that some of them get during the whole year, and, judging by the cries of joy with which they divest themselves of their clothes and plunge into the water, they enjoy it to the full. In some cases they are so anxious to take part in this cen- tury-old ceremony that they dash into the water without troubling to undress. Those who are physically unable either to undress or to walk into the sea are carried by their stronger brethren and dipped in the waves like children. And like children, too, they express themselves by cries of fear or of joy. The moment when this human wreckage looks most impres- sive is during the time that the sun is actually going down beyond the horizon. Against the fiery red background of the sky these repre- sentatives of all the beggars of Brittany stand out with added distinctness, their fantastic shapes made still more fan- tastic by their wild i= ONE OF THE MOST POPULAR OF THE From a\ THE LAND OF BEGGARS. IT IS THE CUSTOM ALL OVER BRITTANY TO From a Photo. ITINERANT SONG-SELLER, GAR FRATERNITY, THE (Photo. 399 gestures and their shadows on the dancing waves. Long after the last rays of the sun have struck the water they con- tinue their ablu- tions. By that time the peasants on the top of the brown cliffs have lit huge bonfires. One after another, for mile upon mile, these burst into flame, reddening the sea and the strange-looking assembly below. And thus is the Féte of St. Jean, otherwise known as the Féte des Mendiants, con- cluded, the last flicker of the feux de joie being gene- rally the signal for the last beggar to drag his body out of the now dark waters of the Atlantic. The origin of this féte dates back many hundreds of years; at any rate, so said one of the aged beg- gars with whom I conversed at St. Jean du Doigt. “In the year 1440,” he related, “there lived a young man of Plougasnou, a very pious young fellow, who, whilst working in Normandy, far from his native place, never failed to pray in a little chapel erected at St. Jean du Day in honour of John the Baptist, whose fore- finger was preserved there asa relic. One day, tired of service and longing to see

Page 409

400 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. his birthplace, he decided to set off home, but before doing so went to offer up his devotions in the chapel. No sooner had he knelt down than he received a violent blow on the chest and was overthrown. Picking himself up, he felt a desire rather to rejoice than to complain, for a voice whispered in his ear, ‘Return home! Return home!’ So he set off. And lo! as he walked from villaze to village, begging his bread, the trees and the hedges bowed to him, and whenever he passed a church the bells began to ring. The people, moreover, showed him the greatest kindness, and wished to keep him amongst them, but as_ the voice kept repeating ‘Return home! Return home!’ he refused all their offers. | Whereupon someone accused him of sorcery; he was arrested and cast into prison; and there, after praying, he fell asleep. In the morning he found that he had been miraculously transported from his cell to Plougasnou, and that a proces- sion of oak trees, cattle, and people was waiting to escort him into the village. When he had told the story of his won- derful journey they set off to the church to offer up thanks. Entering the build- ing, a strange thing happened: the candles became lighted of their own accord, the organ began to play all by itself, and the holy relic, which the young man had unconsciously carried in his clothes from St. Jean du Day, leapt on to the altar. ‘Took!’ he cried. ‘Look! It is the finger of John the Baptist!’ And the crowd of wondering people shouted after him, ‘The finger! ‘The finger!’ A new church was built on the spot where this miracle took place, and ever since that day we beggars have come to St. Jean du Doigt to honour the memory of the beggar-boy of Plougasnou.” NEARLY TWO THOUSAND POUNDS, AMASSED SOU BY SOU. From a Photo. Amongst the types of Brittany beggars not yet mentioned is one which you cannot fail to come across whilst on your summer visit to that favourite holiday ground—namely, the chanteur ade complaint, or song-seller. He is an essen- tially popular person all over the country, the most popular, I believe, of all the beggar tribe ; for in his case the giver of alms receives some- thing in return for the gift. Country folk love a good song, especially when it is topical, and, as most of the ditties which the chanteur de complainte sings on the village square are based on events known to all the countryside, he has a good sale for his wares. The singer and his buxom wife whose portraits ac- company this article work the district around Penmarch, near the Eckmiihl lighthouse, and make such a good thing out of their business that, as he told me in a con- fidential moment, “he could very easily retire on his savings if he had a mind to. Only he rather liked the life, and French Rentes, being a safe in- vestment, brought in very little. Be- sides, he had a son, a fine lad, who was serving his time with the army, and he wished to bring him up as a gentle- man.” ‘These are by no means the only beggars whom I have met who are rich or reputed to be wealthy. In the neighbourhood of Concarneau is a blind woman named Martin, who with her seventy-year-old husband, who always accompanies her, is worth nearly two thousand pounds, a sum which she has amassed halfpenny by halfpenny. The fact is well known to the authorities, but as she lost her sight through illness and began to beg some thirty years ago, when she was really in need of alms, they tolerate her presence on the public thoroughfares. A one-armed man in the same

Page 410

village —he stands at the entrance to the Ville Close and is well known to all tourists who pass that way— is also well - to- do. Half-blind though he is, he is a capital busi- ness man, and in_ his time has made some excellent speculations in house-property. “I could point out to you in Concarneau,” said the landlord of the hotel where I stop- ped, “at least twenty houses of which he is the owner. Yes, Pére Gervais is an import- ant man here, a person whom the notary never fails to salute when he passes him at the Porte de la Ville Close.” In conclusion, let me mention one more BEGGARS WAITING TO BE ATTENDED TO AT A BRETON WEDDING-FEAST—THEY ARF AS WELCOME AS THE MOST FAVOURKD GUEST, AND RECEIVE A LIME Vel. xviii. —S1. THE LAND OF BEGGARS. ““pERE GERVAIS," A BEGGAR WHO OWNS AT LEAST A SCORE From a} OF HOUSES. Front a Photo. © (Photo. 401 interesting fact in con- nection with the beg- gars of Brittany. Whenever there is a wedding they are as welcome to be present at the feast as the most favoured guests. True, they are not placed quite on a level with these, for they have to wait until everybody has finished before they are served; but they and their children get ,_ exactly the same to eat and drink as the bride and bridegroom. This ~ shows in a very striking way in what light the Bretons regard mendi- cants. They do not quite look up to them, but it can at least be said that they do not despise either them or their profession. AL SHARE OF THE GOOD THINGS PROVIDED,

Page 411

An Indian “Sherlock Holmes.” THE STRANGE EXPERIENCES OF SARDAR MIR ABDUL ALI, KHAN BAHADUR, CHIEF OF THE BOMBAY NATIVE POLICE. By H. L. Apa. We have pleasure in presenting our readers with these fascinating real-life narratives—somethin; altogether new and unique in detective stories. They are a selection from the adventures of one o} the most distinguished officials of the Indian police, Sardar Mir Abdul Ali. The Eastern malefactor is perhaps the wiliest in the world, and he makes a crime a veritable work of art. Astute indeed must be the officer who would lay him by the heels, but, as this absorbing series shows, even these master-minds meet their match in the “Indian Sherlock Holmes.” years. Abdul Ali was born in 1840, and, curi- ously enough, his first case occurred while he was still young, and be- fore he had completed his studies at Bombay University. In 1866 the silver cup which was to be competed for by the members of the Byculla Club was stolen by a notorious swindler known as Karsondas Purshotamdas. Young Abdul Ali not only suc- ceeded in unmasking the thief, but literally ran the cup to earth where it had been buried by Purshotamdas, only twelve hours before it was to be contested for ! The culprit was given seven years’ transporta- tion, while the as yet amateur detective was presented with a hun- dred rupees as a reward for his services. Abdul Ali’s next step was a journey to London, where he studied for the Bar, but eventually answered a very different “ call ”-— HE emineat Bombay detective whose the son of Mir Akbar Ali, Khan Bahadur, who served the Indian — SARDAR MIR ABDUL ALI, KHAN BAHADUR, CHIEF OF THE “SHERLOCK HOLMES.” KOMMAY NATIVE POLICE—THE INDIAN From a Photo, his inherent inclination for the detection of crime adventures are here described is and the unmasking of criminals. " Returning to India, he threw himself heart and soul into police work, and when his father retired he soon proved Government for more than fifty himself a worthy successor to his renowned parent, rising rapidly from grade to grade. He is a Mason, and Past Wor- shipful Master of Lodge Islam, of which he was one of the founders, A master of Oriental lan- guages, he is of a keen and analytical intellect —strong, energetic, and courageous — while his disguises have baffled the most subtle and alert of criminals. Sardar Abdul Ali has been called the “Indian Sherlock Holmes,” a title which is amply justified by his remarkable career. He knows every twist and turn of the Asiatic mind, than which there is no more cunning and subtle contrivance within human knowledge ; and that he is familiar with every dodge and device of the Eastern criminal is only to state the obvious. In the narratives which follow there is presented to Wipe Wor-p readers a choice selection of the numberless adven- tures — thrilling, pictur- esque, amusing, and

Page 412

AN INDIAN unique—in which this accomplished officer has played a prominent part.* I have thought it desirable to present the experiences in the familiar form of short stories, using the correct names of people and places where no question of good taste or discretion can be advanced against such a course. All, however, have a place in the brief and unsympathetic official archives of the Indian Criminal Courts. THE HOLY MAN OF THE BEACH. It was early on a glorious summer’s morning, and very few persons were to be seen about on the beach at Chowpati, Bombay, so that at first very little notice was taken of a tall man of venerable aspect who made his way slowly and with dignified step down to the sea- shore. He had a long grey beard, was dressed in ample flowing robes, ~ and carried with him a roll of carpet. Placing this upon the sand, the patriarch knelt down, F. turned his face towards Mecca, and seemed to engage in earnest prayer. Having concluded _ his devotions, he rose to his feet, gathered up the carpet, and walked medi- tatively away. The few people who were passing watched him with evident interest, following his slowly ‘retreating form with their eyes until the aged man was out of sight. As evening drew down, and the sun was setting in a flood of golden glory, the venerable worshipper was again seen to approach the seashore and once more engage in fervent prayer. This time he was the cynosure of many eyes, but was too deeply immersed in his devotions to be cognizant of the attention he attracted. As in the morning, he arose to his feet, gathered up his carpet, and moved away with majestic stride, apparently absorbed in thought. ‘Thereupon, morning and evening, regularly at the same *In this connection I desire to tender my acknowledgments to Mr. Naoroji M. Dumasia, of the Boméay Gazette, to whom, some years ago, the famous detective gave a detailed account of many thrilling incidents in his career. These experiences, after being recorded in the columns of the above-mentioned paper, were published in volume form. Upon the facts contained in this work =courteously confirmed hy the editor of the Bombay Gazette—the narratives which! follow have’ ticen founded: .T ai also indebted ‘to the India Office and the police authorities of Bombay fur the photograph of Sardar Mir Abdul Ali reproduced with this story.— Tux AUTHOR. “SHERLOCK HOLMES.” 403 hour, did the stranger put in an appearance on the seashore of Chowpati, and the people, watching him at his devotions with respectful awe, began to wonder who he could be. Among those who had been attracted by the visits of the holy man to the beach was a Parsee gentleman, whose curiosity concerning the venerable stranger was so deep that he came every morn and eventide to the shore just to watch for the coming and going of the mysterious devotee. One morning the Parsee noticed several other persons standing near, who, like himself, appeared to be attracted by the presence of the patriarch ; and he determined to make inquiries of one of their number. Accordingly he approached a man who stood at a respectful distance regarding the bowed figure of the old man, who was kneeling in his customary attitude. “A singular man, is he not?” whispered the Parsee. x For reply he received a glance of mild reproach from the stranger, who, finger “PINGER ON LIP, HE ENTREATED SILENCE," upon lip, entreated silence. At this the Parsee felt somewhat discomposed, and held his peace. The silence was at length broken by the stranger himself. “A wonderful man!” said he, in an im- pressive undertone, and the Parsee inclined his head in mute acquiescence. After a pause the Parsee ventured to put the question which was uppermost in his mind. “Can you inform me who he is?” he inquired, almost anxiously. -

Page 413

404 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. The stranger looked round with astonishment. “Who he is?” he repeated, in a tone of incredulity. “Do you not know? Impossible! You must surely have heard of the great Pir Syed, the saint, the holiest of the holy? No? You amaze me! I thought such a great man would be known to most people athirst for knowledge. He is a deeply interesting per- sonage, I can assure you, and one who has conferred untold blessings on the needy and suffering. He is a saint upon earth, who lives but for charity and for the righteous pleasure of helping his fellow-creatures; a deeply interest- ing individual, who has the control of fabulous wealth, all of which he devotes to the uplifting of the lowly and the suffering. A strange man, too—a wanderer over the face of the earth, a pilgrim of love, whom nobody meets but to bless. Tam much surprised that you have not heard of him.” The stranger appeared hurt at the Parsee’s ignorance, whereupon the inquirer exhibited symptoms of confusion and embarrassment. “T should like to speak with such a great man, if I might,” he stammered. “Speak with him?” exclaimed the stranger, in tones of consternation. ‘Speak with the holy man? I am afraid that can never be. He is very reserved, communes much with himself, and rarely addresses a fellow-creature unless he has some special and momentous communication to make. In fact, he scarcely seems of this world at all, having no interest in it beyond the disposition in charity of his boundless wealth, as I have intimated.” “T should much like to know him,” said the Parsee, regarding the still kneeling figure earnestly, but the stranger shook his head doubtingly. “You see,” said he, “you are not of his creed ; but follow me—we will approach nearer. Walk slowly and quietly, lest we disturb him. I know the holy man slightly, but I cannot promise that he will speak with you. Ah! He rises ; stand here.” The Pir (saint) rose slowly to his feet, and stood for a few moments apparently plunged in deepest abstraction. “Tf we keep here,” whispered the stranger to the Parsee, “he may notice us as he passes.” At this juncture a man of somewhat needy appearance approached from the opposite direc- tion, and bowing low before the holy man delivered himself as follows, his words being plainly audible to the watchers :— “O most mighty Pir, and blessed Saint Syed Magrabi, thy servant desires humbly to thank thee for thy generous bounty and timely aid. The ten thousand rupees thou didst bestow on me saved me from utter ruin, and the prayers of gratitude of one whose thankfulness can never be sufficient. will ever be thine. O most bountiful and blessed Pir, think not that thy servant is unmindful or avaricious, or that he would be guilty of making undue calls upon thy boundless charity and goodness of heart, for that can never be; but in the fullness of his gratitude, and his great appreciation of thy power snd will to relieve the sorely oppressed, he has ventured to again approach you to crave your further assistance. Ihave a daughter, the light of my eye, the joy of my life, and she would be wedded to a son of our blessed faith. But, alas! I have not the wherewithal to fittingly countenance this desirable union, and the heart of a father is heavy and oppressed thereat. The sum requisite will not, I am confident, seem large in thy sight, being, indeed, but five thousand rupees. W ith such an amount in my possession T could make my sweet child happy, and so thy grateful and humble servant craves the further assistance of the thrice-blessed Pir.” ‘Thereupon the needy one bent low in abject supplication. ‘The holy man laid his hand gently upon the bowed head before him, and said, gravely :— “ Have no fears; thy wish shall be gratified. Come to my dwelling one hour after the set of sun this eventide and the money shall be thine.” With this he waved his hand, and the appli- cant, salaaming low, moved away. The Parsee witnessed this little incident with the deepest interest. Once or twice he glanced inquiringly towards his companion, who, with a hardly perceptible gesture, entreated — silence and attention. Scarcely had the figure of the needy pilgrim’ receded in the distance ere another aged man approached, bowing low to the Pir, who welcomed him with a warm and kindly smile. The suppliant was well’ stricken in years, and when he spoke his tones were weak and faltering, albeit there was no hesitancy in his earnestness. “© most sacred and revered Pir, whose works are even as mighty as those of Mohammed the Prophet,” he said, “I did happily discover the treasure thou wert bountiful enough to tell me of, and thy servant would humbly tender thee his heartfelt thanks for thy great and Sorely- needed aid. But it is more, much more, than would have sufficed to relieve me of my pressing embarrassments and my embittering poverty. © holy man, I thank thee !” And he prostrated himself at the feet of the Pir. ‘The latter, making a gesture of deprecation, replied as follows :— “Go thou, but tell.no man; be careful of

Page 414

AN INDIAN that—’tis my command. With the treasure in thy possession thou and thy family may live in comfort. But heed me carefully and follow my precepts faithfully. Spend it not on frivolities and vanities, but in charity, relieving the suffer- ing, exalting the lowly, and bringing joy to the hearts of the oppressed. Fail not on peril of my wrath. Go ; peace be with you.” “SHERLOCK HOLMES.” 405 the Parsee and the stranger, and the latter cautioned his companion to be prepared to speak to the holy man, should the latter deign to address him. As the Pir caught sight of the excited Parsee, standing timidly before him, he suddenly stopped, gazed steadfastly at him, and pressed his hand to his forehead. Then he looked “WE GAZED STEADFASTLY AT HIM, AND PRESSED HIS HAND TO HIS FOREHEAD.” And the holy man dismissed the pilgrim, who salaamed and retreated. “Wonderful, is it not?” said the Parsee, under his breath. “Yes,” replied the stranger, “it is indeed wonderful. His slave is the King of the Genii, who reveals to him the hiding-places of hidden treasure. He has control over vast sums of money, and frequently gives away fortunes. Yes, he is a man worth knowing; but his acquaintance is not easy to make.” Meanwhile the Pir was slowly moving towards inquiringly at him, shook his head sadly, and walked away. The Parsce’s companion, after briefly indicating his belief that the Parsee would not easily obtain an audience, also went about his business. The Parsee, needless to say, was disappointed and puzzled; but that night he formed a resolution. Come what might, he determined that on the morrow he would boldly address himself to the holy man on the beach. Accordingly the following morn- ing he made his way to the seashore, and, seeing the Pir in his accustomed devotional attitude,

Page 415

406 THE WIDE WORLD approached him and stood quietly by his side. When the Pir had concluded his prayers he rose to his feet, turned round, and, catching sight of the Parsee, started back in consternation. “At last!” he exclaimed, “at last I have found thee, O thou descendant of Noshirvan and Darius! Thou wert revealed to me in a vision, a blessed vision, and I have since been waiting and longing to meet thee in the flesh. Know that thou hast been selected as a fitting instrument to benefit the deserving suffering of mankind. Thou, O son of the immortal Noshir- van and Darius, art heir to great riches, to treasure of untold worth, which lies hidden in the bowels of the earth, but which is reserved for thee in order that thou mayst do good upon earth. Yes; all has been revealed to me, and Iam the appointed agent through whom the hiding-place of the treasure is to be made known. ‘Thou wilt own many ships whose passing shall be fleet as the wind, and in which thou shalt carry pilgrims to Mecca, where is the tomb of the great Prophet. It is I, Saint Syed Magrabi, that tell thee this. It is well, it is blessed!) Amen! Amen! Amen!” And, falling upon his knees, the Pir bowed thrice towards Mecca. ‘The Parsee looked on bewildered, though he was conscious of an undercurrent of satisfaction. “ Art willing to follow me?” asked the Pir; then, ere the Parsee had time to reply, he added, “To-night at sunset meet me _ here.” With that he took up his carpet and strode away. Secretly gratified, the Parsee came to the seashore at the hour appointed, and there, as arranged, met the Pir. ‘The latter spoke not a word, but imperiously beckoned the native to follow him. He led the way across the neigh- bouring railway level, along Mathew Road, into Breach Candy Road, and thence to Grant Road, where the holy man entered a bungalow, signing to the Parsee to follow. The latter, now filled with anticipation and expectation, did so, passing through a dimly-lighted apartment into an inner room which was well-nigh in dark- ness. The only light in the apartment was a sickly yellow gleam which emanated from two small samaz, or lamp-stands. In the gloom the awestruck Parsee saw mysterious cloaked figures moving noiselessly hither and thither, the faces being masked. ‘The Pir walked to the lamp- stands and stood meditatively fora few moments within the radius of the light, which gave his venerable-looking face a weird and_ ghostly pallor. Then, turning to the Parsee, he ex- claimed, in a sepulchral voice :— “Son of Noshirvan, come no farther before removing thy shoes, for this is holy ground !” MAGAZINE. The Parsee tremblingly obeyed, whereupon the Pir handed him a roll of cloth. “Stand upon this,” said he, “or the King of the Genii may destroy thee. I am now about to summon the Genie to our presence, in order that he may reveal the abiding-place of the hidden treasure. ‘To all my invocations, O son of Noshirvan, do thou salaam and exclaim, ‘Amen’!” The patriarch next unrolled a larger piece of carpet and placed it on the ground between the two lights, leaving a space between his own carpet and that of the Parsee. There was no floor to the apartment, nothing but the bare ground. ; “ Hassan,” called the Pir, task !” Promptly a man emerged from the gloom, bearing in his hand a basin. ‘The holy man threw off his outer garments, poured perfume into the basin from a phial in his hand, and then indulged in a few light ablutions. From the basin there arose a pleasant odour, which permeated the surrounding atmosphere. ‘The Parsee, standing in the middle of his carpet, began to tremble with excitement. “ Hassan, dig !” exclaimed the Pir, suddenly. Hassan, having dabbled his fingers in the perfumed water, produced a spade, and pro- ceeded in the semi-darkness to excavate the ground. He had not, however, thrown up more than two or three spadefuls of earth, when he suddenly ceased work and fell back with a cry, blood trickling from his mouth. “O master,” he exclaimed, “I cannot dig ; there are fearful demons threatening me and bidding me stay my hand! They are terrible creatures, with flames issuing from their mouths, and they come from all directions. Save me! Save me!” At this the holy man made many mysterious passes with his hands, and muttered rapidly in Arabic. ‘I'he Parsee, although he could not understand the latter, salaamed profusely and exclaimed ‘‘Amen!” as he had been bidden, his voice betraying his agitation. The effect of the patriarch’s invocation or incantation appeared to be beneficial, for presently Hassan, with a sigh of relief, exclaimed, “The demons fly away!” The Pir then made circles with his finger round the hole, and apparently succeeded in exorcising the demons, for Hassan resumed his digging. He had not got far with it, however, when he again fell back, exclaiming : “© master, there are more demons and serpents! © great Pir, save me; they attack me!” The Vir “perform the muttered further invocations in

Page 416

AN INDIAN “SHERLOCK HOLMES.” 4°7 “SQ MASTER,’ HE EXCLAIMED, ‘1 CANNOT DIG} THERE ARE FEARFUL DEMONS THREATENING ME.'" Arabic, and, although the Parsee was trembling with terror, he still responded with a quavering “Amen!” Perceiving his alarm, the Pir pro- ceeded to reassure him, stating that he need liave no fear while he remained on the carpet, as that was a protection against the evil influence of the spirits. Hassan declared that he saw demons in hundreds, but was assured by the Pir that they would not harm him. Apparently convinced, the man resumed his digging, until the hole assumed considerable depth, and he became exhausted. As he paused to take breath there arose from the hole, slowly and silently, as though by its own volition, a closed copper vessel. The Pir watched it intently, and when at length it’ became stationary he made passes of a mysterious and elaborate kind in the air above it, the while he muttered an incanta- tion in Arabic. Then, stooping, he removed the lid from the copper receptacle. To the horror of the Parsee, watching with bulging eyes, there emerged from the interior a cobra, which, with hood expanded, reared its vicious- looking head, writhing and wriggling about the mouth of the pot, and thrusting forth its forked tongue. The Parsee stood spellbound, while the Pir, after describing several circles round the head of the snake with his finger, boldly plunged his hand into the copper vase and drew forth several gold pieces. ‘These he handed to the Parsee. “Take these, my son,” said he; “they are gold moburs, and are earnest of the millions that will soon be thine, shouldst thou follow out thy instructions. Within the snake thou seest lies the spirit of the Genie. He can take any shape of man or animal or reptile that his master may dietate or command, and the reason

Page 417

408 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “THERE EMERGED FKOM THE INTERIOR A COBRA WITH HOOD EXPANDED.” that he has now donned the form you see before you is to indicate that the time is not yet ripe to reveal the hiding-place of the vast treasure. But in the meantime thou must take these gold coins and put them to a good use. I will now dispatch a message to the Genie, and ascertain further his wishes. Have no fear, my son ; thou wilt inherit the treasure.” Mechanically the Parsee took the proffered gold pieces, and the patriarch, producing a sheet of green scented paper and a gold pen, wrote something upon the paper. Having completed the message, he muttered a charm and cast the sheet of paper from him. It hovered in the air a few moments, came in contact with the light, and disappeared in flame. “The reply will be with us in a few minutes,” murmured the Pir. By this time the Parsee’s knees were knocking together with nervous apprehension, and beads of perspiration stood upon his brow. “O great saint,” said he, “I am prepared and willing to do thy bidding, whatever it may be !” “Tis well,” replied the Pir, in a com. passionate voice. “QO son of Noshirvan, the treasure is all for thee. I have no need of riches ; I have done with all worldly affairs. Ah! Here is the message!” Seeming to thrust his hand into the light, he drew forth a green envelope, sealed with green wax. Tearing it open with eager fingers, he drew out a letter, which he read over in Arabic; Then, turning to the Parsee, he translated it to him. “Tt is the command of the King of the Genii,” he explained, “that the mortal to whom the treasure is to be given — who is unquestion- ably you, my son—must, ere he can become possessed of it, feed twenty-five thousand beggars of the land, in addition to furnishing new covers for the tombs of the saints. The cost of this would be twenty thousand rupees. So saith the message. My son, you must provide this money ; it will be the beginning of the ‘good work thou must carry out when the gold is thine. In the meantime have no fears for the safety of the treasure, which is invisible to all eyes but thine and mine, for the snake will watch over it. Bethink thee, O son of Noshirvan——” At this moment there was a loud noise without, the door was rudely thrust open, and in dashed Abdul Ali, with a following of police officers behind him! All the holy man’s dignity vanished; his jaw dropped and his knees knocked together in abject fear. Gone was the gentle, winning grace of the devotee, gone was the master- ful will of the wonder-worker, and Pandoo Soonderjee, arch-impostor and practised con- fidence trickster, cringed and trembled before the majesty of the law! The Sardar drew a warrant from his pocket and arrested a much- wanted criminal. His assistants took care of the remaining -conspirators, and all were promptly manacled and conveyed to prison. It now becomes necessary to explain how the seeming miracles were performed by the “Pir” and self-styled “Saint Syed Magrabi.” The praying on the beach was, of course, part of a clever plot, designed to attract a “pigeon” or dupe. That it deccived the Parsee in question was well known to the chief actor; but before going farther with the business he had satisfied himself, through the medium of one or two of his confederates, that. the “bird was worth

Page 418

AN INDIAN ‘“THE DOOR WAS RUDELY THRUST OPEN, AND IN DASHED ABDUL ALI.” plucking,” to employ their own phraseology. The stranger who gave him such an exalted character to the credulous Parsee on the sea- shore was also, of course, a confederate. Then came the séance. The elevation of the copper pot is thus explained. In the hole made by Hassan there had been concealed in readiness a quantity of a preparation of lime—known as chunam—which, when water is poured upon it, slowly swells. In the midst of the lime was placed a chatti of water. When Hassan thrust his spade into the hole he purposely upset the water, which, flowing over the chunam, ‘caused it to rise, and so elevate the copper pot on the top of it. pice—bronze coins about equal to a farthing in value—gilded over. These were the “gold mohurs” given to the deluded Parsee by the patriarch. The blood which flowed from Hassan’s mouth was produced by chewing the root of a certain plant, and the letter-paper was a chemi- cally-prepared substance that, upon being intro- duced to a flame, becomes consumed, leaving In the pot were found several. “SHERLOCK HOLMES.” — 409 no ash. The receipt of the “reply message ” was simply sleight of hand, while the unearthly yellow light given off by the lamps was produced by introducing salt into methylated spirit. Soonderjee and his confederates were badly “wanted” by the police, for they had shortly before swindled a prince of a native State by means of similar methods. The Sardar had, therefore, given instructions to his subordinates to keep a sharp look-out for the gang. It so happened that one of these same officers was a chance, although deeply interested, spectator of the little comedy enacted on the seashore of Chowpati. Giving the “office ” to his chief, the remainder of the entertainment was closely watched and followed. The Sardar purposcly allowed the séance to proceed until the psycho- logical moment arrived, so that he might catch the miscreants red-handed. All the gang were convicted and received long terms of imprisonment ; while the Parsee, let us hope, learnt that the days when Genii bestowed boundless wealth on mortals are past for ever. Next Monto: “THe TRAGEDY OF AN INHERITANCE.” Vol. xviii. —52.

Page 419

THE WIDE WORLD: In Other Magazines. THE GOSPEL AMID THE SNOWS. LEEPING out in a snow-drift in the forest with the a temperature anywhere from forty to sixty degrees below zero! This is still being frequently done by noble - missionaries and their brave Indian dog- drivers. No roof above them but the great star - decked vault of heaven. No walls around them through which — fre- quently the — wind shrieks, driving before it the blinding snow, and at times cover- ing them upas though it would be their winding - sheet. Roads, as the word is understood in civilized lands, are utterly un- known in these regions. There is not a mile of road in thousands and thou- sands of square miles. —KGERTON R. YOUNG, IN “ THE SUNDAY STRAND.” . THE AUTHOR AND HIS FAMOUS boG, IN THE SOUP! IX the early days, before the first Boer War, one of the regiments quartered up-country determined to give an elaborate Christmas dinner-party—elaborate, that is, for the Transvaal. The feast was to culminate in an enormous plum-pudding of the orthodox description. The soup was privately voted “ rather queer ” by every- one present—-it seemed composed of too many flavours ; but the rest of the dinner passed without cause for serious comment until it came to the great feature of the evening—the celebrated plum-pudding. No svoner was it tasted than the mystery of ,the first course was only too clearly explained; the natiye cook had economized space on the cooking-range by boiling the plum-pudding in the soup !—, E. MOYSEY, IN “ THE GRAND MAGAZINE. A COTTAGE IN THE CLOUDS. OW insignificant the balloons which took part in the recent race from Paris would look by the side of Nadar's Le Géant, which caused such a sensation in Paris forty-three years ago. This monster balloon contained over 200,000 cubic fect of gas, and its car was a perfect model of a two- storey collage in wicker-work, with a_printing-offic photographic - room, refreshment-room, a lavatory and so on, and carried thirteen passengers. On. its second ascent this leviathan covered distance of goo miles in seventeen hours, being dragged the last seven miles over the ground before it could be brought to a standstill—rrom ‘ TIT-HITS.” SPORT EXTRAORDINARY. if ORD MONTAGU OF BEAULIEU is an 4 expert at rabbiting, and employs a method which is as startling as it is successful. What he calls ‘Crabbitting”” consists in. fixing half an inch of candle-end in its own grease on a crab's back and showing the crab a rabbit-hole. The crabs but the vast wild forest” enjoys it. It does its work better than a ferret, and in a few moments the rabbits begin to scramble forth from their runs.—c. B. FRY, IN ‘* FRY’S MAGAZINE.” THE SOLDIERS’ PARADISE. {2 is very pleasant to the soidier in India, and would be more so but for the heat. He has practically no work to do, no fatigues except such as relate to cleaning his accoutrements and tidying his berth. The native Aayim (barber) comes round and shaves him every day for the nominal sum of sixpence per month, while a chokra (youngster) cleans his boots daily for the same sum. The dowarchi (native cook) looks after his meals, and, what is more, consults the ‘‘sal.ib” every morning as to what kind of dinner he will have that day. It is simply marvellous to see how these native cooks will go round a barrack-room of nearly a hundred men, ask each man what he will have for dinner, and, when the hour comes, bring each individual the special dinner he has ordered.—P. J. THORPE, IN ‘THE CAPTAIN.” THE DUTY ON LARKS., OME three years ago, while travelling to America by the Teutonic, Miss Marie Tempest had a rather unusual experience. In mid-ocean a lark fell exhausted upon the deck of the steamer, and, Miss Tempest’s manager eapearing it, he presented it to her. Of course, the cute Yankee Customs officials were anxious to place a duty on the poor little thing, as an import, and it was only after a deal of argument and explanation as to how the bird had come into her possession that Marie got it in free, —FROM ‘* WOMAN’S LIFE.” WHERE DONKEYS RIDE. N Eastern countries the traveller often meets sheep, goats, kids, and even calves taking their ease on the hump of a camel while the unwilling beast swings awkwardly over the uneven roads. _In Mogador, Morocco, however, a further indignity has been heaped upon the long-suffering camel. Hé has been seen acting as carrier to a donkey !—FROM ‘ CURIOSITIES,” ‘* STRAND MAGAZINE,” We re igitize wk 1) gle Q

Page 420

Odds and Ends.. An Island Juggernaut—House-Warming in Persia—A Remarkable Cake—The ‘Hunger Stone "'— “The First and Last House in England”—A Tree Growing in a Chimney,’ ay) NCE a year,” writes a correspondent, “there takes place in the little town of Pontgol, on the island of Réunion, 6}| 2 festival curiously similar to the Indian one of Juggernaut, now happily shorn of most of its horrors. During this feast the natives absorb immense quantities of a concoction called ‘boza,’ and become excited to the verge of frenzy. After midday a religious procession takes place, hundreds of excited devotees yoking themselves to the great car shown in the photograph, which is decorated with figures of several gods and weighs a couple etc. of tons. Then, amid much shouting and dancing, the mob commence to pull the car through the crowded streets. Every now and again some fanatic flings himself under the ponderous wheels and is crushed to death.” They have a curious method of warming rooms in Persia during the winter. In each apartment is installed a “kursi,” or foot-warmer, consisting of a species of square table covered with an enormous quilt, hanging down four or five feet on each side. Underneath the table, very early in the morning, is placed a stone— measuring about three feet square—almost white- A REMARKABLE FESTIVAL WHICH TAKES PLACK ANNUALLY ON THE ISLAND OF REUNION—HUNDKE: TO THE GREAT CAR AND HAUL IT THROUGH THE STREETS, WHILE EVERY NOW AND THEN SOM: THE PONDEROUS WHEELS AND IS CRUSHED TO DEATH. From a) THEMSELVES F UNDER " (Photo.

Page 421

412 HOW THEY WARM ROOMS IN PERSIA—A HOT STO: From a) hot from the furnace. The inmates of the house, together with any visitors who may call, thrust their feet well under the folds of the quilt, as shown in the picture, and, while enjoying the grateful heat of the contrivance, sit and chat for hours at a stretch. It is pretty certain that very few of our readers could guess what the object shown in the next photo- graph is. Some sort of mausoleum or monument? A model of an_ ecclesiastical structure? No; it is simply a cake! On September 26th, 1906, the Niagara University, at Niagara Falls, U.S.A., cele- brated its golden jubilee. A notable feature was a banquet at which nearly five hundred — prominent people from all sec- tions of the United States and Canada sat THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Front a) THRUST HEIR FEET INTO THE FOLDS, A REMARKABLE CAKE, IS PLACED UNDER THE QUILT, AND VISITORS Photo. down. At a certain period in the banquet the Most Rev. Dio- mede Falconio, the Papal delegate, was called upon to cut a cake especially made for the occasion, and which is here shown. Itwas built inthe form of a church steeple, the belfry being sur- mounted by a statue of Our Lady of Angels, the old name of the University being the Seminary of Our Lady of Angels. This re- markable cake was four feet square at the base and stood nine feet high. It was built in layers, weighed eight hundred and fifty pounds, and was covered with over ten thousand stars. When the Papal delegate cut into the beautiful creation, a silver bell in the belfry was sounded fifty times by concealed mecha- nism, each peal denot- ing one of the years of the University’s life.

Page 422

ODDS AND ENDS. 413 XS =m ~* A THIRSTY ENGINE—WHILE DRAWING WATER FROM A BKOOK IT TURNED A SOMERSAULT AND DIVED INTO THE From a) The above picture surely points a moral as to the evils of unlimited indulgence in drink, even though, as in this instance, the drink happens to be nothing stronger than water. Two men in charge of a traction engine at Stoke Bruerne, a village near ‘Towcester, wanted to draw water from a brook to refill the boiler, and accordingly stopped on the bridge over the brook and let down the suction pipe. This not proving quite long enough, the engine was backed nearer to the edge. Presumably the sight of the water THIS HUMBLE COTTAGE, SITUATED AT LAND'S From aj STREAM! AND LAST HOUSE IN ENGLAND, (Photo. was too much for the thirsty locomotive, for before anything could be done to stop it the ponderous thing ran backwards, turned a com- plete somersault, and dived into the brook with a terrific splash, where it lay upside down as here depicted. Marvellous to relate, although one man was standing beside the water and the other was in the cab, neither of the engineers was injured. The unpretentious little cottage seen in the accompanying snap-shot claims a unique title : gr ened be ss “s Sa “THe FIRST (Photo.

Page 423

MAGAZINE. 414 THE WIDE WORLD ANLOSINIHIO » omnoaguvd Sdvos . Nt3xAI0 LIIWOL HR op OLLYWOUY YHROIS Hi OVIV SLY aVOS 20 SUNOWE DALIOLION TRL SOU GNY AS2 ONY YOd TAVLOS SHTIHLIND Snvald THYHWS JTEVYINGV DIRECTIOUS FOR LISE Saop the clothes melt nil the adzantegeos GOAR qhih of | Ge mort effective for tile washlg of them TBen Iran them for Gore ton ANHOUR ia tepid yroter _—————e PANOUTSOPOULOS BROTHERS oumise CLENSUG HAS BEEN EFECTED ‘SPECIALISTS FOR MAHIVG RUN SOAR ARE ome soap to know that it has an “ad- mirable smhrill,” and that it “cleaus | guithiles.” Moreover, if this par- | ticular brand does not quite suit one’s purpose, several other kinds, the enterprising makers state, “ate | alag in stoeha.” This, we hasten to add, is presumably Greek-English for “are also in stock.” A curious variety of the old- fashioned roasting-jack is used by the peasants of Bosnia and Herze- govina when roasting sheep whole, as on the occasion of a wedding ceremony. One often sees, near a running stream, a long pole having one end revolving freely in a socketed peg, while the other, over- hanging the water, is equipped with miniature paddles. This is the Bosnian roasting-jack. The sheep to be cooked is impaled on the log, a fire is lit underneath, and while the current spins the paddles and the pole merrily round the big joint is cooked literally to a turn. Then the pole is unshipped from its supports and, with the cooked sheep still upon it, is carried on men’s shoulders to the house A FINE SPECIMEN OF “ENGLISH AS SHE IS WRITTEN” IN GREECE. “The First and Last House in England.” Situated within a stone’s throw of the sea at Land’s End, Corn- wall, it is the first habi- tation encountered by the traveller approaching from the west; while in the reverse direction, of course, it is the last passed when quitting England. Appro- priately enough, perhaps, this quaint little landmark is devoted to the sale of refreshments. Above will be found a magnificent specimen of “English as she is written” by a firm of soap manufac- turers in Athens. Some of the words are most myste- rious, and defy even the wildest guesses as to their meaning, but others give one faint clues as to their identity. How satisfactory it must be to users of this where the marriage-feast is taking place, and the joint is there carved up just as it is. In the River Elbe, near Tetschen, in Northern Bohemia, lies a famous rock called the “ Hunger From a Photo.

Page 424

ODDS AND ENDS. 415 name—‘E, P.’ The two things she particularly missed, in consequence of their associations, were a large silver fish knife and fork. No clue to the criminals could be ob- tained, however, and the affair was gradually forgot- ten. Sixteen years passed ; we were then living in New York. Then, one morning, my mother appeared at the breakfast - table and an- nounced that she had From a) THe “HUNGER STONE” IN THE RIVER ELBE. [Photo dreamt the night before that she had found her Stone.” This appears above water at rare in- long-lost fish knife and fork in ‘such an odd little tervals—only when the river is very much below shop,’ and described the street and house. ‘There its usual level. The place where it lies is one of is no such shop there,’ we told her ; but all our the lowest spots in Central Europe, so that if the “ Hunger Stone” can be seen it means that there must be a terrible lack of water everywhere, and consequently drought must be abroad in the land. There is an ancient inscription on the boulder, “Wenn du mich siehst, dan weine” (“When you see me, then weep),” and dates are carved on it which show that for at least three hun- dred years the “Hunger Stone” has been a terror to the peasants. ‘The last time it was seen was in 1904, when this photograph was taken, and the date was duly inscribed on the rock. “The good old days of sugar and rum are gone,” writes a Jamaica corre- spondent, “and the old sugar-mills are deserted. But this is a country where everything grows that has nothing else to do, and so a tree, not satisfied with its lowly condition, has taken root and flourished mightily on top of an old mill chimney, as shown in the annexed photograph, which presents the unusual spectacle of a chimney in full foliage.” Those of our readers who believe in the significance of dreams will be keenly interested in the following remarkable little story, which is absolutely vouched for by Mrs. M. French Sheldon, the well-known lady explorer. She writes as follows : “ Many years ago, when our family silver was laid out for a banquet, thieves broke into the house and made a clean sweep of all the plate. Among the articles taken were many of my mother’s wedding presents, marked with the initials of her maiden From a) A TREE GROWING ON A CHIMNEY.

Page 425

416 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. A REMARKAULE STORY, Vot From a) poterstations had no effect on her. The next morning my mother again announced she had had the same dream, and was certain there must be such a shop in the region she described. On the third morning she repeated her dream. ‘Very well,’ I said, ‘ you will never rest content until we make a search for the shop, so we will go at once.’ We went down Broadway to Canal Street, where she said she had dreamed the shop was situated. At first we could not discover any shop, but eventually descried a doorway in a large building half turned into a window, in which was displayed some old silver. We squeezed into the little slip of a shop, which had but recently been installed. My mother BattLe Witt, Sea-bions ‘A Primitive * @ Furcut ror Lire i> my + @. ~ - Lapy IN FAR Fist D FO SY MKS, FRENCH SHELDON, EXPLOREK, 18 CONNECTRD WITH THIS KNIPR AND FORK. (Photo. seemed to recognise the man who came forward, and he her. She asked him point-blank: ‘ Have you not among some of your old silver a fish knife and fork strangely en- graved and with the initials “E.P.”?’ Without demur he replied, ‘I think so, madam, for about four days ago a lady and gentleman on, NTP «which they said they had inherited and had no use for.’ ‘Will you let me see it? I desire to make a purchase,’ my mother continued. The man. went to a safe, took out a basket and picked out a fish knife and fork with the initials ‘E.P.’. They proved to be my mother’s long- lost wedding presents, and are now in my possession, forty-one years since the strange verification of her dream. _A rigorous investiga- tion was made, and some singular developments revealed the fact that the culprits were associated with some of the servants. I hold myself respon- sible for the absolute accuracy of the above state- ments. I advance no theory as to my mother’s dream, but would only add that she had frequent premonitions of coming events.” $ 5% The Hunger Slane N ? pos Czar’s Prison-Houseé Roasting-Jack 7 Our DEAL IN CATTLE fo slapd Juggergatp Ks 3 787 (2 AN INDIAN iy LASS 5 oe as , ? CLIMBING mA LADDER or Knives KJ Hermit or Pine CREEK RosBERY OF THE GoLD-SHIP THE MAP-CONTENTS OF “THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE," WHICH SHOWS AT A GLANCE THE LOCALITY OF EACH ARTICLE AND NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURK IN THIS NUMBER, sold me a lot of old silver es

Page 426

pues by Google

Page 427

** HANGING ON TO THE ROPE R DEAR LIFE, WITH A CROCODILE TRYING TO SNATCH HIM OFF.” (SEE PAGE 421.)

Page 428

THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XVIII. FEBRUARY, 1907. No. 107 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. By E. J. Murpny. The ingredients of this story, told by a ship's officer, are man-eating crocodiles, drunken seamen, and the swift-running Congo river. They produced for the officer and his colleague a day and night of strenuous excitement, and came very near costing the author his life. BOUT the beginning of February, 1go1, I was second officer of the Compagnie Belge Maritime duCongo mail steamer Leopoldvr/le, trading between Antwerp and the River Congo. Our first port of callon the Congo was Boma, a malaria and mosquito-infested hole, which boasted of several large wooden buildings and numerous huts, and called itselfatown. We discharged part of our cargo at this place, and then proceeded up the river to another settle- ment called Matadi. We lay alongside of the wharf at Matadi for eight days, discharging and taking in cargo. During that short period several of our crew, including the third officer, fell victims to malarial fever. When the day of sailing came, therefore, you can imagine how pleased everybody was to get away, The crew—that is, the firemen and sailors— to show how rejoiced they were at leaving, got very drunk, and almost prevented the ship from sailing that day. However, with a little perse- verance and the help of a few negroes, we managed to get the ship away from the wharf and headed down the river. The fourth officer had to go to the wheel, for the quartermasters were lying helpless in the forecastle with their mates. We proceeded down the river very slowly ; and had it not been for the swift current that was running with us we should have been forced to let go the anchor. The engineers were firing themselves, for they were in the same short-handed plight as ourselves, all their firemen being drunk. Eventually we arrived at Boma, and managed to get alongside the wharf in order to take on board the passengers and mails that were await- Vol. xviii —63, is LAS ing us. ‘The wharf was only a jerry-built affair, and came out from the river-bank like a pier. The end of it that was next to the ship was about thirty feet wide, and there was only one port amidships where one could get ashore. The rest of the ship projected ahead and astern of the pier, running parallel with the river-bank, so that there was a space of about forty feet of water between the steamer and the shore, except where the pier was. The river-bank itself was edged with reeds about five feet high, and the ropes that the ship was made fast by just touched the top of them, being tied to trees on the upper part of the bank. We were not leaving Boma that night, and when all the work was finished and five o'clock came round some of our natives, who had been working coal whilst we were steaming down the river, went on the bank to wash themselves, for the water at that part of the river is fresh. Pushing their way through the reeds they plunged into the water and commenced scrubbing themselves. ‘The watchman of the wharf shouted to them, telling them to look out for themselves, as a man had been taken from the bank by a crocodile only the day before. The men, however, took no notice of his warning, and proceeded with their washing. At last some of them, becoming bolder, proceeded to swim out a little. I was sitting on the rail of the ship, watching them, and I noticed that, in spite of their bravado, they kept in a bunch, and made plenty of noise by kicking and splash- ing the water about. Suddenly one of the negroes, who had been a little behind his companions, shouted to his countrymen to “ Look out!” and leaped off the wharf. Bobbing up to the surface, he swam towards the ship’sside,|but just as he was

Page 429

420 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. turning round he suddenly threw up his arms and, with an unearthly shriek and an agonized expression on his face, sank from view, while the men bathing rushed out of the water and crowded on the wharf like a lot of panic- stricken sheep. The chief officer, who had heard the poor fellow’s dying shriek, leaped on to the wharf and inquired into the matter. I had reached the wharf before him, and was trying to catch a glimpse of the man’s body, but all I could see was a patch of discoloured water slowly floating down the river. The chief officer joined me as soon as he had driven the terrified negroes on board, and together we searched under the wharf, al- though we knew it was useless, for when a cro. codile closes its jaws upon any- thing it never lets go. We went back on board after awhile, and the chiefacquainted the captain with the accident. The captain im- mediately gave orders for the gangway to be landed on the wharf, and issued strict instructions that no one was to be allowed ashore again that night. He also gave orders that an officer was to keep watch on the gangway during the night, for he knew as well as we did that the crew, as soon as they became sober, would have a terrible thirst on them, and the first place they would make for would be the shore, to get more fire-water gin. The gangway was accordingly dropped on the wharf, and the fourth officer and the boat- swain divided the night between them to keep watch. We knew that none of our negroes would try to get ashore, for they had had quite enough of crocodiles for one day. I don’t think they would have gone ashore in the dark even if we had wanted them, so we did not trouble to watch them. ‘HE SUDDENLY THREW UP HIS ARMS The boatswain took the first watch, and the chief officer and I sat in deck-chairs on the quarter-deck, within casy call should he require any help, for we knew the men would endeavour to get ashore at all costs. We lighted our pipes and commenced talking — about things that had occurred during the day, until at last we began to feel drowsy. Suddenly, how- ever, both of us heard the noise of excited shout- ing close by. Jumping to our feet, we ran towards where the boatswain was keeping watch, and were just in time to see two of the crew climbing over the ship’s side to the wharf. Three other men were holding the boatswain to prevent him stopping their companions, but they released him and ran forward when we made our appearance. ‘The chief promptly sprang to the ship’s side and, level- ling his pipe-stem at the two men on the wharf, he swore he would fire at them if they didn’t come back. Seeing something in his hand, they thought it was a revolver, and as the chief's voice had rather a determined ring about it they hastily climbed back on board. The chief put his pipe in his pocket when he got them safely on board, and kicked the pair of them forward to the forecastle. It was, I think, a good job for them that we caught them before they got ashore, for without a doubt they would have got drunk again, lain down on the river- side to have a sleep, and been snapped up by the crocodiles lurking in the reeds. Having got his men forward, the chief officer raramed them into the forecastle, and told the rest that if he caught them trying to get ashore again he would shoot them. The pair of us then proceeded aft to the quarter-deck and. sat(downagaincin our chairs.

Page 430

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 421 We watched for a long time, but everything seemed to be perfectly quiet; we made sure that we had effectually frightened the men. So, bidding each other good night, we retired to our respective rooms to turn in, for we had to be up early the next morning, as the ship was leaving at daybreak. I had not been in my room more than ten minutes—in fact, I had not started to undress myself—when I heard unearthly yells coming - from the fore part of the ship. Dashing outside, I met the chief, who had also heard them. “What in the name of goodness is that row?” he asked. I had not the slightest idea, so I said nothing, but listened again. After a momentary silence the shouting broke out again; it seemed to come from the shore in the neigh- bourhood of our forecastle head. Without a word we both started to run forward, reach- ing the fore- castle head just as a fresh out- burst of yells camefromsome- where under our bows. It was obvious that they came from the reeds, just about where one of the mooring - ropes was fastened. Peering through the gloom, it seemed to me that I could discern a dark object crawling slowly up the rope. I looked again, and sure enough it was the figure of a man, climbing up the rope towards where we were standing. I noticed also that the yells did not-come from this man, but from somewhere behind him. Meanwhile we waited breathlessly for the climber to reach the forecastle head, for we felt certain that some of the men had got ashore down the rope and had been attacked by the crocodiles. “HE SREMED TO HAVE TEMIORARILY LOST HIS REASON.” A few seconds later we had the pleasure of hauling a breathless and speechless man on to the ship. It was fright that bad robbed him of speech, for he was as white as death, and could only gasp and point down the rope, with his eyes almost bulging out of his head. We thumped him and kicked him until at last we got some sense out of him, for he seemed to have temporarily lost his reason, he was so thoroughly scared. Eventually we managed to make out from his incoherent ramblings that he and another man had climbed down the rope to try to get ashore. They reached the reeds all right, and were just going to drop off when they saw a large croco- dile directly underneath them. The great brute immediately commenced to stretch up after them, trying to pull them off, but, as luck would have it, they were just out of his reach by about a foot. The man who had climbed back on board was a sailor, but the other was a fireman, who, unused to rope- work, found himself unable to retreat. Hence the yells. Both the chief and I saw at once the peril -the poor fellow was in — hang- ing on to the tope for dear life, witha crocodile trying to snatch him off. We both sprang down on to the lower deck, and shouted to the sailors, who were sitting about the forecastle, to lower away the starboard quarter-boat. They had obviously been waiting for an order of this kind, for they jumped to their feet and followed us aft to the boat without a word. As luck would have it, we had not swung the starboard quarter-boat in, but had left it hanging on the) davits,,so that\when\we got aft all we

Page 431

422 THE WIDE had to do was to lower the boat into the water. I sprang into the boat and four of the men followed me, while the chief and the other men lowered us into the water. It did not take us long to cast the tackles off, and then we got our oars out and pulled away for the forward part of the ship. I knew the man was still alive and holding on to the rope, for I heard him yelling just as we pushed off from the ship’s side. After that, however, he suddenly became silent. Mentally, as I steered the boat, [ placed myself in his position, hanging on to that rope with his arms gradually becoming weaker, and WORLD MAGAZINE. had forgotten all about. We had let go the anchor when we came alongside of the wharf, and it now led away at an angle of about twenty-five degrees across the bow. On glided the boat, in spite of our efforts, and presently came broadside on to the cable. Twisting round this, she drifted across the bow of the shi, where she stopped and commenced to gradually heel over. The gunwale next to the ship was very near the water’s edge, for the powerful current was slowly turning her over ; and our predicament seemed to be nearly as bad as that of the man we had come to rescue. Meanwhile the fireman, hanging on to the rope, must have heard the splash of the oars as From a\ THE CONGO the capacious jaws of the crocodile, with their rows of spike-like teeth, waiting to close over his body as soon as he let go. The death that awaited him if he had not strength to hold on until we reached him was more than I could bear to think about, and I urged the men to row harder, though they were already doing their best. Presently the unfortunate fellow’s yells sounded over the river again, echoing and re-echoing. They seemed to be more despairing this time, as if his strength were well-nigh exhausted and he knew that his time had come. All this time we were pulling against a strong current and making very slow progress, but at last we managed to reach the bow of the ship. When I thought we were clear of the vessel I put the tiller to starboard, intending to shoot in to the bank. The tide, however, caught her on the bow, and she commenced to sag in quickly, ‘To my dismay I saw that she was drifting straight for the chain cable, which I MATL STEA | | LEOVOLOVIA (Photo we came round the bow, for he commenced shouting at the top of his lungs. “For Heaven's sake hurry up, sir,” he cried, “or I shall have to let go!” That despairing cry rings in my ears now as I write. It seemed like the wail of a lost soul, and it went through and through my brain like a knife. Putting my shoulder to the ship’s side, I yelled to the men to do likewise. One mighty effort, and we managed to push her clear. How we did it I cannot tell; that awful cry of distress must have given us superhuman strength, I think. Once free of the ship, we drifted in between the vessel and the shore, and out of the full force of the current. Here we got our oars to work again, and soon had the boat going at a good pace towards where the man was still hanging on to the rope. I could see: him_now, and the crocodile wait- ing beneath,-but, both matijand brute seemed

Page 432

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 423 “OT MET WITH MORE THAN IT BARGAINED FOR." insensible to the fact that we were near at hand. One more pull and we were underneath him, but not a second too soon, for even as we came under him his hold relaxed and he fell insen- sible into the boat. When the crocodile saw its supper disappear in such an abrupt manner it had the imperti- nence to attack the boat, dashing at us with jaws wide open, revealing its horrible, serrated teeth. It met, however, with more than it bargained for. When it came within range two or three oars were rammed down its throat, and the spike end of the boat-hook was stuck in its left eye. It turned on its side, after breaking two oars, and disappeared into the water, giving the boat a tremendous blow with its great tail as it went, ‘starting one of the timbers, and causing the water to pour in rapidly. Placing the insensible man in the stern-sheets, we pulled out into the river clear of the reeds, and, aided by the strong current, managed to get back to the ship all right, although we had only two oars left. Dropping alongside, we caught the rope that was ,thrown to us, which we made, fast;,ta_the) dnsensible man, who was

Page 433

424 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. then hauled on deck. We then seized the tackles and hooked the boat on ready for heaving up. I gave the word, and the chief officer and crew commenced to hoist her up in the davits. The bow rose a good deal quicker than the stern, and the water that had leaked into the boat rushed aft, putting a heavy weight on the after tackle. I shouted to the men on deck to stop heaving on the forward tackle, but they didn’t seem to hear me, for they went on hauling. Again I yelled, but before the last word had left my mouth the hook in the stern snapped and the boat swung violently to a perpendicular position. I was not expecting anything of the kind to happen, and as I had no time to catch hold of anything I was hurled backwards into the river. When I came to the surface I shook the water out of my eyes and looked round to see if any of the men had been thrown into the water with me. I could see none, so came to the conclu- sion that I was the only one; the others must have clung to the boat. Meanwhile, I was fast drifting away from the ship, but as I was a good swimmer I had no fear of drowning. I knew there was another wharf farther down the river, so, as it was useless to attempt to breast the current, I made up my mind to swim to it. First of all I decided to swim inshore and land on the beach, but the thought of what might be hidden amongst the reeds quickly made me chapge my mind. Up to now my thoughts had been centred on a way of getting ashore, but suddenly, as I pictured to myself what might have happened to me if I had landed in the reeds, I became nervous and fancied I could feel something playing about my legs. I thought of the native who had been drawn down to his death before my eyes, and his last yell seemed to ring in my ears again. His face, too, came before me, and I seemed to see the lines of agony on it. Oh, it was terrible! My head swam round, and the slightest movement of the water beside me set my nerves a-tremble, so that my whole body shook violently, and it was only with ; a great effort that I managed to retain. my Every moment I expected to feel the jaw of a crocodile closing over my body, for the river, I knew, was full of them. I had been in the water only a few minutes, yet they seemed like so many hours. Presently, however, I saw the wharf looming up. ‘This gave me new courage, and I struck out with a strength born of fear. It never for a moment occurred to me that I was swimming with the current, and therefore travelling pretty fast, and the result was that I struck one of the piles with crushing force, almost breaking my ribs and rendering me helpless. Gasping with pain, I was swept under the wharf between the piles, and made sure that my time had come, for I was drifting swiftly past my last hope. But luck seemed to come my way at last! As I was passing the last pile a large spike-nail pro- truding from it caught my coat and held me. Promptly I threw my arms about the pile and held on like grim death. I was now fully alive to my danger, and knew that I must either climb on to the wharf or let go and sink. I struggled fiercely to climb up the pile, but made very little progress, for my ribs were sore where I had struck them against the wharf. However, I managed to get my leg over the big nail and then pulled myself up so that I was standing on it. Next I reached one of the cross-beams and hauled myself on to it. ‘The rest was easy, and I was soon on the top of the wharf, where I lay panting for breath, utterly exhausted. A few minutes later I heard the splash of oars and the sound of the chief mate’s voice calling my name, so I staggered to my feet and hailed him as the boat went by. On the way back to the ship the chief told me that I was the only one who had fallen into the water, the others having clung to the boat and saved themselves. As soon as he found out that I was missing he immediately righted the boat and came after me. We got back to the ship safely, and this time managed to hoist the boat without further accident. ‘The sailors were told to go below, ard quickly stunk forward, thoroughly frightened and sobered. I turned in but could not sleep, for my nerves were too much shaken, and I was glad when daylight came. Bright and early we cast off from the wharf and steamed down the river, homeward bound. I never want to see that place again.

Page 434

A Lady in Far Fiji. By BEATRICE GRIMSHAW. An entertaining account of a journey through the wonderful hinterland of Fiji—a trip never before undertaken by a white woman. Pessimists who had never been ten miles into the interior prophesied all sorts of disasters; but, nevertheless, Miss Grimshaw pluckily set off, knowing nothing of the language, and escorted by only three native attendants. Many strange experiences—-both exciting and amusing— fell to her lot, and these she describes and illustrates in captivating fashion in the following articles, which have been specially and exclusively written for “ The Wide World Magazine. long and thirty miles across. On the map it looked interesting and easy, so I took-a steamer up to Lambasa, the principal port, intending to see something of the island. Six weeks after- wards I came back, having travelled about a hundred and eighty miles in the interior ; spent the best part of a month, in different slices of time, waiting for steamers; and learned, once for all, what being “off the road” really meant. Viti Levu was a mere summer's day picnic com- pared to Vanua Levu. Lambasa is the only oasis of civilization on Vanua Levu, and even it consists merely of a Colonial Sugar Refining Company estate, with its concomitants of Indian and Solomon Island labourers, white managers, overseers, clerks, and mechanics. There is a store or two, also a Government arnted native constabulary station ; and- outside—the wilderness. No roads and no town exist, save some Fijian vil- lages; no white men, except single specimens at intervals of several days’ ride ; no regular mails, no stores, save a little shanty or two at very wide intervals kept by Indians or Chinese. Even the native villages are far apart; you may journey twenty miles without seeing one, whereas in Vol. xviii. -54, Viti Levu there are always food and shelter within ten miles at the farthest. Nor are the people of Vanua Levu like the people of Viti Levu. Farther away from civilization and less under the influence of their own chiefs, they are rougher and wilder in every way than the inhabitants of the greater island. In Viti Levu any native I might chance to meet on the road at once removed his head- band and laid down his burden (both acts of respect), whereas in Vanua Levu parties of Fijians travelling along the bush-tracks would stare boldly and rudely, swagger past with their head-bands in place, and even keep their bundles of food on their shoulders while passing—which, in a Fijian, is simply an act of deliberate rudeness and defiance. Nor did my men remonstrate with them for their discourtesy. A Fijian, at best, is only outwardly submissive to the white race. He is a craven at heart, and therefore easily kept down by the British rule, but loyalty to an employer is not one of his virtues. An attack from these natives was a thing barely within the bounds of possibility, so (Photo.

Page 435

420 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a) I did not fear it; but I knew that if any trouble had occurred my three big Fijians would simply have run away to avoid being concerned in it, and left me to see it out by myself. On setting out for Wainikoro, some twenty- two miles from Vuo, where I landed, I secured a horse, and engaged a couple of carriers to accompany myself and Gideon, my special interpreter and servant, whom I had brought on from Viti Levu. The horse belonged to the local Buli, and had every vice that a native horse can have. He shied in a manner that I can only classify as virulent, deleterious, and disconnective; he bit like a rat at bay; he kicked at me one-leggedly, like a misogynistic ostrich ; he was thick in the wind, didn’t like hills, was afraid of slippery places, and en- deavoured (apparently as a matter of principle) to wipe me off against every cocoanut tree he met. Such as he was, however, he was the only means of travel available, so I engaged him for a few weeks, and trusted to time and care to improve his manners. The men named him “Somo-somo,” and always addressed him by his title. I asked what it meant, and they told me, “Fiji flower, plenty good flower,” which led me to infer that either their knowledge of horses was small or their charity large; for, if Somo- somo was the flower of Fijian horseflesh, it did not say much for the remaining steeds of the colony. The “Flower” did not like my side-saddle, first of all; secondly, he entered a_ protest against that unexpected outrage, my riding habit ; and thirdly, he objected very strongly to myself. These prejudices having been over- come in some degree and a start made from the hospitable house where I had been entertained LAMBASA, “THE ONLY OASIS OF CIVILIZATION ON VANUA LEVU.” (Photo. on my arrival, we got on our way to Wainikoro. The chiefs of Vanua Levu would not allow their men to go away for more than a few days ; so (as a Buli, or chief, has power over all the men in his district, and none of them can leave it without his permission) I had several dif- ferent sets of carriers during my journeyings, instead of keeping the same men right through, as in Viti Levu. This was not so good a plan, as the men were making less money, and were therefore much more prone to desert me and to lag carelessly behind, over country where they could easily have beaten my horse. On the way to Wainikoro, in fact, I saw little of them, except at meals. Half the day’s journey to Wainikoro lay through “the company’s” fields of bright green sugar-cane. Afterwards we came into woods, beautiful as all the Fijian forests are, and most pleasantly cool. The road was about a couple of feet wide in most places, and so steep that a good deal of walking had to be done. Gideon was in his element, with a new audience for his boastings and braggings about me. I caught odd fragments of conver- sation as we journeyed on that told me my social status was increasing. In Viti Levu I had merely been an intimate friend of King Edward’s. Here, according to Gideon, I was an “Andi,” or princess; I had bags full of gold and a hundred boxes of clothes in Suva— he had carried them up from the steamer him- self. I was such a great lady that I lived on tinned meat and biscuit every day, and con- stantly had tea with sugar in it. I was splendidly generous, as befitted such a personage ; for every now and then I would give as much as sixpence to buy tobacco for the men (Fijian

Page 436

A LADY IN tovacco, of which one gets a good handful for that sum), and I often gave away whole quarter- pounds of sugar just to eat as they liked. I had a revolver that would kill twenty men at half a mile, and I had fought all through the Boer War (in which struggle the Fijians took the warmest interest), shot hundreds of Boers, and cut their heads off afterwards! With these and other fictions did my imaginative hench- man entertain the gaping carriers, who evidently swallowed every word, and, in consequence, respected their informant all the more in that he was privileged to be the servant of such a celebrity. Close upon sunset we came to a place where the track disappeared in a bog, and Somo- somo had to be coaxed and driven over the Be A Bev THE WAINIKORO RIVER, WHERE THE AUTHORESS MET WITH A DISCONCERTING EXPERIENCE From a) narrowest part, where it was quite safe for him to cross, although he could not be induced to see the matter in that light at first. After ten minutes’ dragging, yelling, and beating he was compelled to make the attempt, and landed safely on the opposite side, not without a flounder or two that made me glad I had had the sense to dismount. Darkness had fallen by the time we reached the impassable Wainikoro River, which I knew to be near the town—and, behold, there was not a sign of a human being, and no boat! We could do nothing but wait for a native to pass, as the river was too deep to ford; so the men made a fire to keep the mosquitoes off, walked up the cocoanut palms like flies, and threw down half-a-dozen green nuts, husked them on a sharp stick stuck in the ground, opened them, and handed them about. ‘Then they lay down about the fire to eat and drink, while I walked FAR FIJI. 427 up and down the river bank, waiting for a native. It seemed as if no ong was likely to come, but after half an hour or so I heard a crackling in the woods on the far side. The noble savages ought to have heard it before I did, but they never noticed it, being intent on sucking cocoanuts ; and when I pointed it out they said it was probably a pig. When the dark form of a native, very slightly clad, appeared like a slim shadow on the opposite bank, I called the men up again and pointed across. “That is not a pig,” I said. They laughed; and one more delusion about the “noble savage” vanished from my mind. If he couldn’t tell the time by the sun, as I had already discovered, never knew when it was going to rain, and did not {Phote, know a man’s footstep from a pig’s, it seemed to me that he was not fit for his part, and ought to be hissed off the stage. Gideon, at my direction, yelled to the man and asked if there was a boat or a canoe. No, there was neither. They had a canoe, but it was away up the river, and wouldn’t be back till to-morrow. The men laughed—-they always did when we came to a deadlock—and sat down at once to smoke. I hustled them up again, and told them to unsaddle Somo- somo and lash a few sticks together to put my luggage on. We should have to swim for it. They did as they were told, and I went down to the river’s edge to reconnoitre. I tasted the water—it was brackish. Now, if there is danger of sharks high up in the Fijian rivers, there is very much more close to an estuary. I did not like the prospect:

Page 437

428 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “Ask that man if there are any sharks,” I told Gideon. “No shark stop!” he replied, confidently. As neither he nor the carriers had ever been within twenty miles of the river, and as Fijians are absolutely reckless about sharks, I did not set much value on his remarks, but called over to the native on the far side :— “Sa senga na ngeo?” (“Are there any sharks ? ”) Instead of the loud, comforting ‘ None, sir,” which I hoped for, there came a complicated reply I could not translate. Gideon’s version was, “He say some- time shark he stop, sometime no stop.” This was not good enough. Facing the astonishment of the native and the amused scorn of the men, I- declared I would not swim; that they must get the canoe; that I wasa great chief, and would assuredly kill somebody if the Wainikoro people didn’t go and capture that boat and bring it along, alive or dead —with ‘other things to the same effect. The men’s amuse- ment at my nervous- ness broke up into fright, and they yelled = vo 4] to the native to get the canoe—to get anything—for this was a terrible marama (lady), and there was no know- ing what she would do, unless pacified. There is no power on earth like that of ill- temper—real or manufactured. In an hour's time the canoe appeared, and Gideon hastily packed my goods and myself on board. Across the Wainikoro we went, with the small, meek, dripping head of Somo-somo following just above the water; and in another half-hour I was installed in the usual native house, with the usual gaping crowd at the doors, and the usual fowl and yam preparing. Fowl is the one thing that a Fijian eats off a plate instead of a leaf. He does not care to lose any of the precious water it was boiled in, so he always serves the bird on a tin plate, which in many cases belongs to the village at large, and is sent about from house to house whenever a feast is in progress. There was the usual fuss about hunting up the THR ONLY PLATE IN THE VILLA LADY ViSITOI village plate while the food was preparing ; and at last it was brought triumphantly in. Next morning, as I left, I saw it being hurried to the native teacher's house, by which I con- cluded that godly men from another village were expected, and entertainment was being prepared for them. Yam and ndalo are the common food of the people, fowl and pig being rare luxuries, except among the chiefs. Nowadays the British Government keeps some curb on the exactions and tyrannies of the native rulers, and they cannot treat the “kaisi,” or com- monalty, as high-handedly as of old. Yet, even so, the lower classes live plainly and poorly, while the chiefs annex every- thing that takes their fancy in the way of food, order the “kaisi” about like dogs, and compel them, as a matter of course, to work for their superiors with- out pay. In Vanua Levu, which is nearly all wild, unbroken country, with very few white residents, I saw Fiji in the rough, and it did not seem to me that the lot of the “ kaisi ” was at all a happy one. Thirty or forty years ago their chiefs could slay them at pleasure. Now they must re- spect life at least; but the “kaisi” is still not allowed to have a soul of his own. He cannot leave his village without the chief’s permission ; he must work without pay as much as his superior desires, building houses or boats, or cultivating the communal patches of yam and ndalo. Ambi- tion is impossible to him ; born a “ kaisi,” he must remain one, and cannot hope for improvement in his lot. Something of this is reflected in his ways of living, and even his expression of face. In the other Pacific groups I have visited a village at dusk is bright and merry, sounding with music and laughter, and full of lights. In Fiji the towns are dark and silent at night ; there is little singing, and the amusements are of a quiet kind, card-playing and yanggona- drinking being the chief. The Samoan, the Tongan, the ‘Tahitian, or Cook Islander lives for pleasure and amusement —picnics, travelling parties, continual dances and_ songs, games of ;E BEING FETCHED FOR THE R's MEAL. (Photo.

Page 438

A LADY IN FAR FIJI. - f 429 every kind enliven his day and night. Chiefs in these .other groups are less oppressive, and the communal system, with its care for the tribe and harshness to the individual, is much less strictly carried out. But in Fiji the “kaisi” has not much heart to invent games and amusements. He can be a jolly fellow enough in his own way ; he is exceedingly good-natured, readily pleased, and delighted with a joke. Still, at bottom, he has a spring of darkness and melancholy that is ever ready to rise and over- flow the surface sunshine. His fathers lived lives of gloom and terror, always under the shadow of the war-club and the braining-stone, and within sound of the ternble /a/, or death- drum. When a chief died the “kaisi” were From a) slain in dozens and thrown into his grave, because ‘“‘a chief must have grass to line his - tomb, so that he may lie soft.” When a war- canoe was launched it went down to the sea over hundreds of writhing human bodies, whose life- blood stained its keel and whose death-yells sped it on its way. Living men were placed in the holes that received the supporting pillars of every chief’s mansion ; human bodies, frequently alive, were daily forced into the red-hot cooking ovens that supplied the meals of the chief. What wonder that the shadow of these hideous days—which can yet be remembered by the older men—should still rest upon the younger generation ? Next day my horse was saddled early, but we could not get away at once, as one of my men had gone off to a meké-meké in a neighbouring town, and had to be fetched. It was well on towards noon when we got to the river again —a A TYPICAL VIEW OF A BUSH few hundred yards higher up this time, but, nevertheless, at a spot where it was wide and deep—and found that the canoe had been taken away again! It was irrecoverably gone this time—gone out to sea on a fishing excursion, sure to last till next day at least—and there was not even a raft to be had. With the calmness of despair, I extracted my swimming dress from my box and went off into the wood. Returning clad in “ rationals” and a cloak, I told Gideon to follow me with my goods, and to keep them dry somehow, anyhow, on pain of frightful retri- bution. Then I left the cloak on the bank, waded across the shallows, feeling unconscion- ably cold and shaky, but assuring myself I TRACK IN VANUA LEVU. iG wasn’t a bit afraid, and plunged into the fifty yards’ stretch of deep water. I never swam like that before ; I never shall again. Imaginary sharks chased my horribly- conspicuous red swimming dress and English skin right up to the bed of greasy mud on which I landed. I was half up the bank before I remembered that my clothes were on the other side and that Gideon in all pro- bability would rather die than bring them to my side of the river, since it is strictly taboo for a Fijian man to bathe at the same time as a woman. So I sat in the mud and screamed to a native woman who was watching the proceed- ings from the farther shore ; and she, having no fear of sharks, put my things on her head and came over at once. My toilet completed I mounted Somo-somo, who was steaming and dripping in the sun, and rode away, backyto civilization.

Page 439

430 THE, WIDE WORLD I heard afterwards that the Wainikoro River certainly had sharks, and that recently, just below the spot where I swam across, a native man and woman, crossing with a dog between them, had seen the dog taken down by a shark before their eyes. It is well known, of course, that brown or black people run much less risk from sharks than white, which may explain the stolidity of the Fijian mind regarding these horrible creatures. The river sharks are not large—only six to eight feet, as a rule ; but they are quite capable of biting off a limb or inflicting a fatal injury. The next trip I decided to take was a much longer one—to the Ndreketi River and up into its forests. The Ndreketi was only about fifty miles from my starting-place —a two days’ journey on decent roads—but it took me four days’ travel, exclusive of stops, to get there. Only thirteen miles could be covered the first day because of a tidal river that had to be crossed late in the afternoon or not at all. The town of Nanduri, where we next stopped, was a handsome place of several hundred in- habitants, with a wide, grassy main street, and clusters of the prettiest little houses imaginable all round it, hiding them- selves in clumps of orange, palm, hibiscus, and flame- coloured crotons. The Roko Tui Macuata, or Prince of Macuata, lived here, also a few minor chiefs. The tone of society in Nanduri seemed very high. Clean clothes were the rule; nearly all the men and women had shirts and “pinnis,” and the town actually enjoyed the luxury of water laid on in pipes from the river above. The white magi- strate who ruled over that district had had the pipes laid down on one of his periodical visits, and the people had taken very kindly indeed to the labour-saving arrangement of stand - pipes all along the street and a shower- bath on the largest green. This latter was in constant use all day long, the natives delighting in the cool cata- ract that descended from a perforated disc overhead at the turning of a tap. From a\ MAKARITA, THE HOSPITARLE WIFE OF THE PRINCE OF MACUATA. MAGAZINE. The publicity of its situation did not, of course, embarrass them at all, but they had some glimmerings of European ideas and customs in such matters, and therefore, for sheer style, they had enclosed the shower-bath with a bird-cage of bamboo bars ! The Roko was away ; but his wife, Makarita, received and entertained me right royally, giving me the largest of the Roko’s three fine houses to stay in, feeding me on fowls, pork, and the best of river crayfish during the whole of my three days’ stay, and organizing various meke- mekés for my _ entertainment. Makarita’s marriage, which took place only a year or two ago, was quite a pretty little romance. The Roko is neither young nor lovely, but he is a prince, and therefore should, by rights, have married into some branch of the Thakombau family—the descendants of King Thakombau, last monarch of Fiji, under whom the 1874 cession of Fiji to Britain took place. Indeed, a suitable lady had actually been selected, and the Roko was thinking it over, when he happened to meet Makarita, a girl of good but non-royal family, and a great beauty, after Fijian fashion. He fell in love with her at first sight, and shortly afterwards married her, against the wishes of all the Fijian “smart set” and the open remon- strances of his own dis- trict. The marriage has proved a happy one, and the “beggar maid” fills her position as King Cophetua’s partner with dignity and grace. I photographed her in three costumes — meké - mek? dress, with mats and arrowroot-fibre kilts wrap- ped round her into some- thing very like a crinoline, and cocoanut oil all over her body; ordinary day costume of brown cash- mere (and very good cash- mere at that); and “ best dress,” composed of a pink satin “pinni” or tunic, sulu of white bro. ded silk, gold locket set with pearls, and long gold chain. Shoes and _ stockings, of course, she never wore, and her thick, stiff hair was trained upright, clipped and neatly bevelled off at (Photo. the edgesyin native fashion,

Page 440

A LADY IN FAR FIJI. 43 The wretched Somo-somo seemed to be a bit queer; Gideon had been kicked by him and was rather lame ; Nanduri was exceedingly pleasant, and so I stopped there three days, much to the delight of the men, who “ went out” a great deal in this fashionable town and enjoyed themselves exceedingly. There were card-parties, where euchre and whist were played with furious excitement from eight o’clock p.m. until three a.m.—stakes, nothing but the glory of winning. ‘There were yanggona parties, where the men met to drink and talk until daylight and paralysis of the legs (the effect of excess in this drink) set in together, and they had to be propped up against the wall, still talking, while the women fed them with roasted bananas to drive away the effects of the orgy and enable them to walk home. There was a dance one night at a town two miles away, which simply emptied Nan- duri, and there were also day- light meké- mekés, per- formed for my amusement by the boys of the town. The passion for card-playing common to Fijians of every class set me won- dering what the result would be if anyone intro- duced bridge to the natives of these islands. Judging by what I know of them, I should suppose that it would sweep like a devastating plague over the country. Work would be at a standstill, and sleep and food would be taken only in snatches, while the natives gave themselves up heart and soul to the new game. They are excellent card-players, and they know no medium in their amusements —witness the law that had to be passed shortly after the introduction of cricket to the islands, forbidding the game to be played except on certain days of the week, because the Fijians had taken to it so ardently that they would do nothing else. The boys’ meké-meké was both pretty and original. A number of very bright and attrac- tive little brown lads dressed themselves up in white sulus and armlets of red and white flowers. They then commenced a clever pantomime THe * sUGAl From a) dance, singing as they danced, to keep time. I was told that it was the “Sugar-cane Meke- meké,” representing the growth of the sugar- cane. In the first figure they all squatted low on the ground, shaking their heads, with shut eyes, and murmuring slowly and softly an unintelligible sentence that sounded like “Eratchi-kéveechi, eratchi-kéveechi!” Gradually they all stood up together, growing taller and taller, and as they grew they waved their arms and trembled all over from ankle to crown, like the tall, tasselled canes waving in the wind ; and still they kept on chanting, louder, faster with every figure — “ Eratchi-kéveechi, eratchi-kéveechi !” There were several figures that I could not make out, for want of proper interpretation ; but I suc- ceeded in understanding that one figure, which represented a series of hearty fights (and nearly broke up the dance, through the fervour dis- played by some of the little actors), was meant to picture the exactions of the chiefs, who compelled the “kaisi,” willing or unwilling, to come and cut their crop. Nobody wanted to leave Nanduri, myself least of all; but the Ndreketi was far ahead and Somo-somo was well again, so a start had to be made. In the slanting, early morning sunshine I rode away from the pretty town—away from all comfort, all decent food, all safe roads, all kindly natives, and, apparently, from all good luck as well. 1 lost my purse the first day, and, though an honest youth from a half-caste village found and brought it back later on, the loss caused delay and vexation incalculable. It took two days’ hard travel to cover the thirty miles between Nanduri and Tumba, on the Ndreketi. The first day Gideon all but hanged Somo-somo by tethering him with a slip-knot. The next day was a series of perils for the unlucky brute and anxiety for me. If I had known all that lay ahead assuredly I would have sent him back and walked, but the mis- leading accounts I got of the country in front induced me.to, push; on.) OThere was no road— RIMSHAW'S HONOUR BY THR BOYS [Phete.

Page 441

432 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. no real track, even. We travelled by bare indications in the shape of crushed branches or trodden grass, smashing through miles of liana- knotted bush by the aid of knives, struggling through marshes, scrambling up and down hills ‘as steep as a house-roof and slippery as butter, and—worst of all—encountering streams every mile or two. Every stream or river was at the bottom of a perpendicular gully with greasy clay sides, down which the protesting horse had to be pushed and dragged, while I walked over on a cocoanut log. Some of them were deep and rapid, and many had dangerous bottoms of soft clay. And now, after a fashion that was ex- ceedingly unpleasant, came my opportunity of learning what the people up in Lambasa had meant when they warned me—“ Don’t get your horse bogged !” It does not sound very alarming ; and I had supposed that “getting bogged” was merely a case of floundering into a soft bit, a rapid dis- mount; and a dirty habit, while the horse got over by himself. Alas! it was considerably more. 1 had just dismounted to let the men lead the horse down a gully that looked much like those we had passed, and was scrambling up the far side, after crossing on a log, when I heard a terrified yell from Gideon: “ Missi N-grimshaw ! Horsie lie down ; by-n’-by he n-dead !” Turning round, I saw poor Somo-somo, having missed the jump at the bottom, plunging and struggling madly in the gully, which was filled with treacherous mud. He had already sunk up to his belly; his eyes were starting from his head, and he snorted fearfully through his dilated nostrils, in the very extremity of terror. ‘The men hauled helplessly on the reins, screaming at each other and shaking with nervousness ; it was clear enough that they thought the days on earth of the poor “lower” were ended. ‘They were perfectly useless ; and I had never seen a horse in such a plight, and had not even heard what ought to be done. The banks were hope- lessly steep; it was not far off dusk ; the nearest village where help might be obtained was two hours away—and all the time poor Somo-somo, whom I had really grown fond of, was dying a horrible death, staring wildly at me in vain hope of help, and breathing now in long-drawn, painful snorts of agony. 1 would have given twenty pounds for liberty to sit down on the bank and go into hysterics. Tf there had been anything human about with a head on it I certainly should have done so, for the sight was indescribably painful, and the feeling of helplessness still worse. But my three men were three children of Nature, which meant three useless babies in trouble of any kind ; and Somo-somo’'s life hung on me. So, in vigorous language, 1 told the men to haul on the head-rope and lift the horse's quarters with saplings. I made them cut down a considerable section of bush and fling it wholesale in front of the poor “ Flower.” I compelled them to batter down the perpendicular bank of solid clay and cast it on to the sticks and boughs, at the same time making a prac- ticable exit. I worked them like mules for over an hour and scolded like a turkey-hen all the time. At last a piece of fairly solid standing- ground was manufactured, and Somo-somo, filthy, exhausted, terrified, and trembling, got out with one final struggle and stood on the bank, swaying on his feet and looking like death. But he was saved. Then came a long walk through the twilight and the dark, and a big, unseen river—the Ndreketi at last—to cross in the starlight, carried almost on the necks of men who were walking shoulder-deep. In a strange, dim valley half-a-dozen natives started up out of nowhere and offered me food—bananas, cocva- nuts, odd little packets of porridge made from ndalo roots, sugar-cane, and cocoanut cream, tied up in green leaves. I took it thankfully ; and Somo-somo, who had been walking behind me, relieved any fears I might have had about his recovery from the late accident by suddenly projecting a yard of two of dirty neck over my shoulder and grabbing the biggest packet of porridge for himself. He was always well fed under my care ; but his manners, none the less, were those of a shameless buccaneer. The welcome sound of a white man’s voice, calling out of one of the endless gullies, told me that I had at last reached the neighbourhood of the little settlement I had been aiming for since I left Nanduri two days before. In another half-hour I was enjoying a real meal at a real table in the smallest and cosiest of the three “white” houses that, together with a saw-mill and its buildings, formed the settlement of Tumba. Here, as everywhere else in Fiji, I met with the kindest and most ungrudging hospitality. The white settlers of the Fijis are surely the most hospitable people in the world. A dirty, untidy, hungry stranger suddenly appearing from the wilderness is welcomed as a_long-invited guest, given the best of everything, almost fought over by several eager hosts, and pressed to stay as long as possible. His entertainers apologize for not being able to feed him on every civilized dainty known to Suva or Levuka, and hope he can put up with a room that is furnished less luxuriously than the guest- chambers of a big hotel. They neglect their business to, show him) round,” press gifts of

Page 442

A LADY IN curios, plants, shells, etc., upon him when he is leaving, and send him away with a hearty God-speed, and a hope that he will come back again soon. The Ndreketi, or, more correctly, the Sen- ganga district, is truly “the back of beyond.” Here, in the wild forests and the lonely, little- known bush villages, heathenism and its attend- ant horrors still lurk concealed, in spite of the fact that all the natives of the district are nominally good Wesleyans and attend Sunday prayers, conducted by a native teacher, with praiseworthy perseverance. The “luveni wai” worship, though persistently combated by the Government, ~~~ has never yet been fairly up- rooted. As far as I could ascertain it is a strange mix- ture of heathen “ miracle play,” devil - worship, and murder, The natives taking part in it work themselves up to an extraordinary pitch of frenzy, during which one of them becomes possessed by the spirit of a god, and declares himself to be invulnerable and immortal. During my stay in Fiji a case of attempted murder was tried in Suva arising directly out of the “Juveni wai” as practised in the Senganga district. One man threw a spear at another, to prove that the latter was really a god come down from heaven, and therefore im- mortal. The “god,” how- ever, came off second - best, being badly wounded and crippled for life. The other was sentenced to several years’ imprisonment, as, apart from such accidents, it is illegal to perform the “luveni wai” at all. “Tembe-tembe,” which is devil- worship pure and simple, is known to exist, although carefully concealed, near the Ndreketi. There were two or three men about Tumba who enjoyed the reputation of being devil-priests on the sly. One interesting character, who was always hanging about the house, was known as Tha Levu (“Bad Lot”). He was an hereditary devil- priest, and was more than suspected of following in his ancestors’ footsteps. In spite of this he was a very clever and civilized personage, with an excellent English education, acquired during Vol. xviii. 55. THA LeVU (“BAD LOT”) THE CANNIBAL. From a Photo. FAR FIJL. 433 aterm of eight years’ penal servitude in Suva, which he had not long completed. In 1894 there was a cannibal outbreak within a couple of miles of the place I visited. A chief who had been oppressing the people was murdered and eaten, with all the ancient religious rites, by Tha Levu and two other men. The others were supposed to have influenced Tha Levu, who was only a young man at the time; so he was let off with eight years’ imprisonment, while his companions were hanged. He has now been back in his native village for a year or two, and is a person of considerable import- ance, much admired by his _ neighbours. On one occasion, while I was passing through the village, it came on to rain, and ‘Tha Levu politely asked me to shelter in his house. I went in, and was enter- tained with courteous English conversation and photographs of the Government House dignitaries. Subsequently, Gideon, who was a_ perfect sieve of gossip and chatter, informed me, with sly giggles, that Tha Levu was “plenty good man, plenty big man,” and that he had told my men all about the cannibal feast ; said it was first-class fun (as far as I could understand), and that he only wished he had a chance of doing it all again. It was perfectly obvious that Gideon and the others admired him im- menscly and considered him the biggest hero they had ever met. I told Tha Levu that I thought his name fitted him to a hair, and that I would like to take his photograph to send home to England, as the biggest villain in Fiji. Mr. “Bad Lot” grinned happily, and at once dressed up his head with a huge yellow allamanda flower, to do the occasion justice. I photographed him as he stood, and hope the readers of THE Wipe WorLD MaGaziINE will admire him half as much as he obviously admired himself. I much preferred a pleasant elderly gentleman from across the river, who came up to call one day, dressed in a nice white shirt and heliotrope velveteen sulu, and who told us conversationally that he was a “tevoro,” or devil. He seemed

Page 443

434 rather a superior sort of devil, on the whole ; if he had horns they were hidden in his. stiff, upright hair, and his tail was certainly not visible. Being a devil, he told us, he had power over certain other devils, among them the demons who governed fleas, centipedes, beetles, and other objectionable creatures. He had heard that my host was looking for him (which was true) to ask his advice about the plague of fleas that made | the house almost uninhabit- able ; so he had come across the river, and would be glad to do anything in his power, because the white man had often employed his wife to do washing, and had paid her well. What could he do? we asked. Well, said the kindly devil, he could drive away all the fleas for us, for they were bound to obey him as their master ; and he would do it at once if we liked. But we must first assure him that we believed in his power. If we disbelieved it would paralyze him and he could not work. No one else had the power but himself. Any man could do the simple things he was going to do, but, except in his hands, they would have no effect, and even he could not make them effective if he was not helped by our belief. We all assured him we did believe in his power—truth- fully enough — for we had heard of his performances before this, and knew that, however he had done it, he had driven away the fleas most successfully and permanently from the house of my host's junior partner a year earlier. The “tevoro,” thus reassured, called up Gideon, and told him to help him in moving all the furniture clear of the walls. Gideon, grey with fright and shaking all over, obeyed him, and then bolted straight out of the house to hide himself in the cowshed. The “tevoro” went into the yard, picked up a common piece of bamboo, and lit the end of it. He then returned to the house and walked three times round every room, close to the wall, keeping his body bent double, and holding the burning end of the bamboo about a foot from the line where the reed-work walls joined the earthen HIMSELE A From a\ THE PLEASANT FI DERLY G “ DEVIL "iE PUZZLING FEAT FOR MYSTIFICATH THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. floor. All the time he muttered softly to himself in Fijian. My host, though a good Fijian scholar, could not understand what he said. Every time he passed one of the two doors he went out into the yard and snuffed the end of the bamboo on the ground, afterwards making a neat little dirt pie of the snuffings and leaving it on the earth, The whole ceremony did not take more than a quarter of an hour. At the end he stood up and told us (1) that the fleas would all go away; (2) that they would not all go at once— some would go that night and the rest to-morrow (a rather notable point, I thought); and (3) that they would not come back. We might never trust him again, he added, if all this was not true. Then he accepted a pre- sent of a shilling and some tobacco and went away smil- ing. I never saw the amiable “tevoro” again; but he was certainly a nice old devil. All that he had promised came true. That night the fleas were much less annoying than before, and the baby, which had been enjoying very broken rest, slept _ better. Next night there was not a flea in the place, and the poor baby’s little bald head, which had always been spotted as if with measles every morning, was white and smooth again. If we grown-ups had been “suggested’ into thinking there were no fleas about, the baby, at all events, could not have been influenced, nor could we have been mistaken in the marks. There was nothing in the bamboo to drive away the fleas, for it was picked up in the yard just as it lay ; nor are these active creatures so easily alarmed as to be driven away by the sight of a little flame. Furthermore, if by any sleight- ofhand some native drug had been used, it would have taken effect at once, and not driven the invading armies out in sections, as the “devil's” proceedings certainly did. I leave the problem to other heads to solve, confessing that I find it insoluble myself. It was time now to be making my way back again to Lambasa, for the Saya, steamer would CALIED PERFORMED A MISS GRIMSITAW (Photo,

Page 444

A LADY IN FAR FIJI. 435 soon be due there. But an unexpected obstacle arose. ‘Tha Levu's society and (I suspected) the influence of certain midnight gatherings in the forest, where the Wesleyan religion was con- siderably at a discount, had gone completely to Gideon's head, and he was getting beyond control. A more curious jump-back towards the primitive type I had never seen. My civilized, obliging, English-speaking courier, with the bright, intelligent face and sunny smile, had utterly disappeared, and in his place I had a slouching young savage, sullen, disrespectful, and careless, with a flattened, stupid face unlit by any spark of good humour. He took no care of my belongings, transmitted my orders incorrectly to the men, and disappeared for hours at the time when he was most wanted. This could not go on. I did not wish to go back to Lambasa without an interpreter, as I knew too little Fijian to get along comfortably, but I made up my mind to give Gideon a lesson. The white men of the settlement became interested in my dilemma, and offered to “talk to him” for me; but I knew that any such delegation of authority would only make matters worse. So I waited until he slouched up to the cook-house one morning, insolently late for something I wanted him to do, and began my sermon. It does not much matter what I said. It was picturesque, and there was a great deal of it, dealing mostly with the lofty eminence of my own position in life, the many great deeds which I had (not) performed, and the horrible things I did to people who offended me. I ran rapidly over the weak points in his own career, vilified his ancestry, and suggested that it would be gross flattery to describe him as food for canmbals. I told him that he was to leave my service that instant, and pictured briefly but vividly the crawling ignominy of his solitary return to Lambasa. By this time my big Fijian was crying loudly into the chopped cocoanut prepared for curry, and knuckling his wet eyes with his huge black fingers. I told him that I did not care if he cried himself dead ; that he did not belong to me any more, and, in fine, that he was to go at once and never let me see him again. “Where I going, Missi N’grimshaw ?” sobbed the forlorn creature. 1 made the obvious reply. It convinced him that I was in earnest; and rejecting the small pile of gold coins, represent- ing his wages up to date, that I tried to hand him, he trailed out of the house and collapsed in a miserable heap near the veranda. All day long he sat there, asking me, whenever I passed, “ Missi N’grimshaw ! ’S all right?” and receiv- ing the same invariable answer, “No; go away.” His anguish of mind rose to full height when, later on, I went down to the river and on board the timber-carrying steamer for afternoon tea. It seemed to him that 1 was going away at once to regions unknown, and he hovered about the bank, his face lined and drawn with despair. This tour had been the glory of his life, and he could not face the disgrace of being cast down before all Vanua Levu, after all his boasting and swaggering. A Fijian’s grief is like a child’s—absolute and intense for the moment, and rejecting all thought of conso- lation—and, moreover, his vanity is the very weakest spot in hisarmour. Small wonder, then, that the culprit’s wretched, anxious, tear-swollen face almost softened my unkindly heart. But I did not call him up till night, and then I only asked him, “ Are you going to be good?” “ Yes, sir,” he said, eagerly. “ ‘Then you may tell me that you are sorry,” I said. He looked down and his face grew sullen again, for a Fijian hates above everything on earth to say that he repents —such an admission is intermingled with various old customs that give it a significance unknown to whites. I turned away to the house. Gideon, seeing his last chance going, called out, “ Missi N’grimshaw!” “ Well?” I asked, half turned away. Very slowly came the reluctant words, “TI so-ry.” ‘All right, Gideon,” I said. ‘You can go round and get your supper, and have the horse ready at seven to-morrow.” It was all right. He ran like a mongoose to the cook-house, his face split up with smiles ; and thenceforward, till the end of the trip, I had no trouble with Gideon. A day or two later, at Nanduri, he came to me and told me that he had been “ levu lia-lia”—very mad--at Tumba. I agreed with him cordially, and asked him why he had acted in such a manner. ‘The question seemed to have a certain academic interest for him; he debated it seriously, and then said that he thought the bad people in the woods had made him bad as well. That is almost all of Gideon. I dismissed him finally in Suva, with his wages and a decent testimonial, and saw him go off to buy a heavy blue serge coat, in which to torture and delight himself of a Sunday; a sulu of black French cashmere, at eleven shillings a yard; quantities of tobacco, sweetstuff, fresh bread, sugar, and other civilized luxuries dear to the native heart. Wherever he is, he is a great man by reason of these possessions and his important journey, and is, no doubt, happy and content. My kindly hosts warned me, when I left Tumba, that it would be well for me to wear my revolver at my waist when travelling back, instead of baying it-conyeyed in my baggage.

Page 445

436 THE They said that my Ndreketi carriers were a rough lot; that Gideon might break out again; and that, in any case, the prevailing customs of the devil-worshippers had given a bad tone to society up the river. So I carried the weapon in my belt, and felt indescribably foolish, but perhaps a little more peaceful at heart than I should otherwise have been—for, after the week up the river, I could not feel quite certain that one of these impulsive children of Nature might not be moved suddenly to heave a rock at the back of my head, should the fancy take him, as we plodded along. The bad place where Somo-somo had got into trouble was temporarily bridged for me by the villagers, and I got safely to Nanduri in a couple of days, without any adventure worse than ten hours of drench- ing rain. My men were bitterly disappointed when J pressed on to Lambasa, after a single night’s stop at the native Brighton of Vanua Levu; but I wanted to see the vanilla planta- tion at Lambasa before the steamer left, so was deaf to their cunning hints about Nanduri and melancholy sighing. It was at the resident magistrate’s house in Lambasa, a day or two later, that I found Gideon secreting certain torn scraps of paper and a broken ink-botile that I had thrown away. He was much embarrassed when I asked him what he wanted with such rubbish, and only murmured shamefacedly that he “ plentee learn- ing write, school, Suva.” I shut my eyes, skipped a racial and moral gap of some thousands of years, and felt firm ground underfoot. “ DRESSED TO KILL“'—A FIJIAN DANDY IN HIS BEST ATTIRE, From a Photo, WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “You can have some of my paper and envelopes for your letter, Gideon,” I said, in a lordly manner. “It’s a penny to Nanduri by the Government post. Here—you can have a stamp. One envelope?” “ Thankyouverymuchdeedsir,” replied my courier, all in one word, and getting up to salute, military fashion. “Seven umvelose (envelopes), seven samps, I liking, thank you-sir !” No wonder Nanduri was popular ! And now the explor- ing trip was over—having lasted for an astonishing number of weeks—and the steamer was ready to take me back again to Suva, where the great liners come and go, and whence the world be- yond Fiji already began to call. The journey was ended — the long, hot days under the open sky, the nights in the Fiji towns, the weeks spent far away from white faces and white men’s speech, I was the first white woman to travel alone about the interior of the islands, away from the coast; yet I had met, on the whole, with nothing but kindly courtesy and the warmest hospitality. Concerning Fiji and the Fijians, I shall always retain pleasant memories—of fairy- like fortresses among starry orange-groves ; of wild, magnificent mountain scenery ; of lovely, lonely rivers; of kindly brown faces and welcoming brown hands. In all the bright- hued gallery of South Sea pictures that I can call up with closed eyes of an evening by the Northern firesides, there is nothing brighter, nothing happier, than my wanderings in far Fiji. THE Enp. iaikedty <OORle O

Page 446

WHAT BEFELL THE “KATHLEEN.” Totp sy HERBERT R. REYNOLDS AND SET DOWN BY FREDERICK A. TALBOT. A thrilling tragedy of the sea, showing how an infuriated cachalot tried conclusions with the American, whaler “ Kathleen.” The story is told by the third mate of the ill-fated vessel, and forms a dramatic chapter in the annals of the whaling industry. and pit oer vocation, but it seldom happens in the strenuous battle between the hunters and the —— Mammals that the monarch of the ocean comes off best. Yet now and again dramatic tragedies are reported from the whal- ing-grounds, and the roll of fatalities caused by the prosecution of this dangerous calling is appreciably lengthened. It is doubtful, how- ever, if the whaling industry can furnish many such another thrilling adventure as that which befell th whaler Xath/een during her last season in the tropical seas in quest of the cachalot or sperm-whale—which, by the way, is one of the “gamiest ” members of the cetacean tribe. The Aath/een was a respectable old barque, belonging to Messrs. J. and W. Wing, of New Bedford, Massachusetts. She had been in the business for many years and had brought hom? a large number of heavy and valuable cargoes from the whaling seas. We set out from New Bedford on the 22nd of October, 1901. The crew were all experienced whalers, under the command of Captain Thomas Jenkins, who is himself one of the most expert hunters in Massachusetts, and can “smell a whale” a couple of hun- dred miles off. I myself was attached to the Aath/een as third mate. On this trip the captain was accompanied by his pretty nose was then pointed towards the Cape Verde Islands, where we increased the number of the crew to forty by taking on board a dozen Portuguese sailors. ‘he captain then set his course for the Rio de la Plata, and ten days afterwards we fell in with another Bedford whaler which had had a fine haul, and was returning to port with some ninety barrels of oil. We “gammed” this vessel (the colloquial expression for exchanging visits), and the good fortune of her crew somewhat put our skipper on his mettle, as so far we had not even caught sight of a whale, let alone captured one. Bad luck, however, seemed to dog us through- out the voyage. We reached the hunting-ground in due course and cruised about for several days, but our only haul was a tiny sperm - whale scarcely worth the trouble of pursuing. To make matters worse we lost our second mate and buried him at sea on the 2nd of February. The captain, disgusted at the ill-fortune that was attending his efforts, resolved to leave this hunting-ground and try a some- what more northerly region. We started off in the south-east trades, and experienced the most dia- bolical weather until we had crossed the Line. Worse still, we spotted no more whales, which greatly annoyed both the cap- tain and ourselves, seeing that we had now been out nearly five months. We were bearing up towards young wife, and the ship’s com- mr. wessenr x. Kevse.os, wno the Windward Isles one bright pany also included a grey African AA ee AT oe AAry evening, and = were — anxiously parrot, some eight years of age, the pet of the captain’s wife. Our hunting-ground was the “12-40,” about one thousand miles off the coast of Brazil, in which tropical waters the cachalot is found in abundance. We had not gone very far, however, before we experienced our first trouble. We ran into a fierce south-west gale, and for days, so tempestuous was the wind and so great the fury of the seas, we had to keep all the hatches battened down. The Kathleen, being quite empty and consequently riding very light, was tossed about like a straw, and we had a stiff job to keep off the dangerous coasts which we passed. Twenty days after leaving port we found our- selves in the Gulf of Mexico, and the vessel’s From a Photo. by Burrell. scanning the sea for signs of a “spout” to cheer us up, when the captain came on deck and, sniffing the air, exclaimed :— “Smells like sperm-whale about here. Bet you a plug of baccy we raise whales to-morrow.” I was not disposed to accept the skipper’s challenge, for we all knew that his faculty of smelling the mammals was so acute that I should inevitably lose. And, sure enough, the captain was right in his surmise. It was the 17th of March, and we were in latitude thirteen degrees north. Bad luck was still behind us, we told one another, for we regarded that ominous “thirteen” somewhat significantly. We were lolling listlessly about in

Page 447

438 THE WIDE WORLD our bunks in anxious expectancy, when suddenly the look-out bawled :— “There goes white water!” He meant that a whale was churning and splashing the waves with his tail. “Where away ?” roared the skipper. “Two p’ints on the weather bow !” “All hands on deck !” shouted the captain, excitedly. ‘‘Sperm-whale! Look lively!” The various members of the crew: sprang from their bunks and tumbled up the companion-way as fast as possible, falling over one another in their haste. The deck, which had a moment before been almost deserted, was now a scene of the most intense excitement and bustle. The Portuguese sailors were running to and fro, getting out the tackle and lowering the boats, and above the babel of tongues the look-out’s voice could be heard distinctly as he sang out, “There she blows !” I rushed to the ship’s side and saw a whale eee | | “WE HAD R VERITAULE CACHAL blowing quite close to us. Then up came another, followed by a third, fourth, and fifth, until presently the sea all round us was a mass of fountains as the mammals rose to the surface to spout. By a stroke of luck we had run into a veritable school of cachalots. The captain showed not the slightest sign of excitement, although he was inwardly boiling over with the good fortune that had come his way. He quietly climbed up aloft so as to obtain a good survey all round, and I soon followed him. MAGAZINE “Gee! We have run into about three hundred of ’em,” he remarked, and I do not think he was exaggerating in the slightest, for on all sides as far as we could see were the black, lolling bodies of the whales, blowing their spouts of water high into the air. It was certainly the largest school of whales that any of the old, experienced hunters on the Kath/een had ever seen. Truly the Fates had been kind to us after five months’ idle cruising about, through storms and calm, with only a single insignificant catch to our credit. The captain was determined to profit as much as possible by this stroke of good luck. “ Lower every boat,” he yelled, and in a few seconds, amid much groaning and squeaking, the four whaleboats which we carried were being swung from their davits into the water. As soon as the boats touched the water the crews, eager for the coming fray, tumbled into them and got the tackle aboard. Soon they were pulling might and main away from the ship. Whaling tackle comprises a har- poon attached to the end of a long length of Manila rope an inch and a half in thickness. The harpoon is fitted at the end with a hook having a single barb, which, however, is fixed on a pivot, so that it can swing round easily. The harpoon is attached to a heavy pole of strong, tough wood, specially selected so as to withstand the severe strains to which it is subjected. One edge of the harpoon is ground fine until it has the keenness of a razor, while the other is quite blunt. The rope attached to the harpoon is carefully coiled in tubs, so that when it is rapidly paid out there is no possibility of it becoming entangled and thereby pulling at the catch. The length of rope within the tubs varies, some containing only six hundred feet, while others hold twelve hundred feet of line. The shaft of the harpoon is approximately thirty inches in length, and is made of the best soft iron, soythat the danger

Page 448

WHAT BEFELL of its breaking under the heavy and sudden strains imposed is rendered a remote contin- gency. Three harpoons—or, to quote the whaler’s parlance, “ irons ”—are generally carried in each boat, fitted one above the other in the starboard bow. The harpoon is used solely for hooking the catch, and is absolutely useless for killing it. For this purpose lances resembling long, thin spears are utilized. They are each about four feet in length and have broad points as sharp as razors. The wooden handles to which the points are attached are about four feet long, with light lines fixed to them, so that after a thrust has been made the lances can be with- drawn if necessary with little exertion. These lances are carried on the port bow, and when thrown by a skilful whaler penetrate right into the vital parts of the catch, thereby quickly rendering him Aors de combat. In battling with a big, powerful whale very often two or three thrusts will be required. In the space of a few minutes the whaleboats had left the Kavh/een’s side. ‘The captain’s decision to dispatch all the boats simultaneously practically denuded the whaler of its crew, the persons left on board comprising the captain, his wife, the cook, and a cabin-boy. ‘This, of course, left the skipper plenty of work to do, since when the boats are out, owing to their being low down upon the water, their range of vision is limited, j = ate HE LASHED His TAIL AOU THE “KATHLEEN.” 439 and they have to receive insti uctions from aboard the whaler, one of the crew being stationed in the crow’s-nest for this purpose. In this case this work had to be carried out by the captain. I was in charge of the bow boat. “First blood” was drawn by the chief mate, De Viera, who got his harpoon well home in a big whale. As for myself, I could not get a glimpse of the school ; but presently the captain’s voice came bellowing over the water: “ Keep going to lee- ward, Reynolds, and you'll run right into ’em.” My men bent to their long oars, and we bore down very rapidly. We kept going for an hour, and then I descried a big bull whale, and at the first shot got a good hold of him with my harpoon. Now the fun began in real earnest. He was a big brute, capable of yielding, I should think, some forty barrels of oil, so I determined to stick to him, come what might. Soon I was able to get a lance home, and the blood spurted out in a fountain from the puncture I made in his body. He lashed his tail about in impotent rage, and the water was quickly churned up into pinky foam. Then the great brute “sounded”—that is, dived in an attempt to get away. The rope attached to the harpoon flew out like lightning, with a hiss and a roar. Two or three times I attempted to stop his mad career, but directly I checked the running-out of the line our boat careened right over on its beam ends, aa

Page 449

440 THE WIDE and for fear of being overturned I had to let him have more rope. ‘Towed by this monster cetacean our little craft travelled through the water at breakneck speed, throwing the spray in all directions, and the men had difficulty in baling the water out quickly enough to prevent the boat from becoming waterlogged. “Tll hold on to him if he takes us to Brazil!” I exclaimed to my men, who were in a fever of excitement at the sport offered by our catch. But presently, as I knew would be the case, the whale came to the surface again to spout ; and then, getting close up to him, I jabbed my lances into him for all I was worth. Fortunately every throw told, and we promptly backed out of his way, as he was now in his death-struggles. He plunged his tail in all directions, and as I knew the cachalots are very pugnacious I kept a sharp eye upon him in case he decided to rush at the boat. At last, however, he expired, and we set out to tow him to the ship. ‘The first mate had also made a splendid haul —a big cow whale--and I saw him towing his quarry up to the ship, where he moored her on the port side, and the tackle was run out from the masthead of the whaler in order to raise the dead mammal into the right position to be stripped of its blubber and other products. At this moment the skipper caught sight of an enormous bull whale on the starboard quarter, and, overcome by the excitement of the chase, he yelled, “Hi! there, mate! Get after that bull. We'll see to the cow.” Nothing loath, De Viera and his men bent to their oars again and made their way towards the bull. He was a wicked-looking brute as he lay upon the water, his large bullet head standing out like a rock. His back was studded with large lumps, which showed that he had been previously harpooned more than once, but had always succeeded in making his escape. Now, a bull whale who has got away from the harpoons a few times is the most dangerous and vicious brute to tackle. He always shows fight and docs not take long to make up his mind to attack you; nor does he wait to be harpooned first. ‘This fellow was about a hundred fect in length, and I should think weighed about the same number of tons. De Viera and his men pulled lustily towards the whale, but he did not wait for them; he turned his bullet head in their direction and came straight for them. It was an anxious and thrilling moment, but the danger did not daunt the mate. Standing in the prow, with his harpoon poised in the air, he calmly watched the approaching monster. At the psychological moment he plunged it with such terrific force into the cetaccan’s back that it disappeared from WORLD MAGAZINE. sight in the flesh. The whale “sounded ” imme- diately, and rather unexpectedly, taking the line out with a buzz and whirr. In fact, it ran out so rapidly that the friction on the gunwale twice set it in flames, and the men in the boat were hard put to it to keep the heat down with buckets of water. As suddenly as he had dived, however, the brute stopped his mad career, and the slack was quickly hauled in. He then rose to the surface directly ahead of them, and spouted terrific columns of water into the air in his rage. The boat was cautiously approaching the mammal—whose ponderous tail was lashing the water into clouds of spray and foam—in order to get another thrust home, when, without a moment’s warning, the whale set off at full speed. The men could not pay out the rope quickly enough, and the boat was towed at express speed through the water, while on her gunwale, where the running rope chafed the wood, a big rent was charred by the friction. De Viera, however, stuck tenaciously to his quarry, and was too much preoccupied in his task to observe its tactics. But from our position we took in the situa- tion at a glance. ‘Ihe whale had directed its nose towards the Xa¢h/een, and was now bearing down on her broadside at full tilt. He was travelling at over twenty miles an hour, spouting and thrashing the water furiously the whole time. At this juncture I realized the cause of this unexpected development. The whale was bent on revenge. Evidently the cow whale which De Viera had previously killed was the bull's spouse, and he could now see her dead body rolling listlessly on the water, which was dyed for yards around with her life-blood. So great are the ties of affection between male and female whales that a bull will defend his mate through thick and thin, and at suck times is a highly dangerous foe. De Viera, who had up to this point held on tightly, saw that something unusual was going to happen, so with his hatchet he promptly severed the harpoon rope. That action saved his boat and companions. The whale, however, never swerved for an instant from his object. As he approached the Kathleen he slightly ducked his head, for all the world like a charg- ing buffalo, and smashed clean into the barque right amidships, just under the waterline on the starboard side. ‘The impact was terrific. The huge square head of the whale, filled with its several tons of spermaceti, crashed through the hull of the barque as if it were cardboard, and we distinctly heard the groaning and splintering of the timbers. Hitting the side of the ship so squarely as this made the barque shiver from stem

Page 450

WHAT BEFELL THE “KATHLEEN.” 441 to stern, and, being empty and light, she almost rolled over under the impact. The whale, as he pushed his head through the bull, lifted it slightly, and the barque listed away from him as hough raised by a crane. Evidently pleased with the damage he had wrought, and consider- ing himself amply avenged, the whale sank and we saw him no more. Not that the con- cussion had damaged his anatomy in the slightest, for a sperm-whale’s head is like an indiarubber ball. The hole torn in the side of the Kath/een was of enormous dimensions, and we saw at once that the poor old ship was doomed. A sperm- whale’s head is the largest part of its body, and the rent practically gaped from the keel to the main deck. When the whale withdrew its head and sank the stricken barque rolled over, and the water rushed into the hole with the fury of a mountain torrent. Hurriedly we pulled up to the Kathleen's side in order to take off the skipper, his wife, the cook, and cabin-boy. There was just time for the captain to secure eighty pounds of biscuit and eighteen gallons of water ; then he leapt down into the boat. Just as we were about to push off from the foundering vessel, the captain's wife cried, in great alarm :— Vol. xviii.—56. “THE WHALE SMASHED CLEAN INTO THE BARQUE RIGHT AMIDSHIPS,” “Polly! You've forgotten my bird! We must fetch her.” The crew cursed that bird vehemently, and could not understand a-woman bothering about a parrot at such a moment. However, one of the men hastily scrambled up the Aathlecn’s side and rescued the bird. Afterwards we some- what appreciated the lady's feelings for that parrot, since it afforded us considerable amuse- ment by its idle chattering and antics when we were adrift upon the ocean, thirsty and hungry. As we pulled away the Aath/een gave a sudden lurch, and with a weird, gurgling sound dived head foremost beneath the waves. By dint of hard rowing, however, we just managed to clear the whirlpool produced by the suction of the sinking ship. Presently we met the fourth mate, Nichols, hanging on like grim death to a bull whale that he had harpooned. He and his crew had been so intent on their work that they had not seen the Kathleen rammed. As they approached us Captain Jenkins, jocular still in spite of the overwhelming misfortune that had just befallen him, sang out, “Got him fast, Nichols?” “ Aye, aye, captain,” replied the mate, proudly. “Then [ think you had better cut him loose,”

Page 451

442 THE WIDE WORLD os. “THE ‘KATHLEEN’ GAVE A SUDDEN LURCH AND vIVED HEAD FOREMOST BENEATH THE WAVES." continued the captain, dryly, “or else you'll be taken after the Kathleen.” The mate was amazed. He did not under- stand the skipper’s cryptic remark. : “Cut her loose?” he asked, wonderingly. “Aye! And lively, too!” retorted the captain. “The old Kathleen's sunk !” The men were utterly dumbfounded, but they soon realized the truth of the statement when they looked round in vain for a sight of the familiar old barque. After we had briefly re- counted the story of the disaster, the various boats fell into line, with the crew equally divided among them, and the scanty store of provisions and water was doled out. Our stock gave twenty pounds of biscuit and four and a half gallons of water to each boat, each carrying ten souls, so that you may see that the prospect before us was not very comforting. We arranged to keep all together at night and to spread out during the day over a wide area on the look-out for some passing vessel which might pick us up. We were in an uncomfortable predicament, far off the trade route. The nearest land was Barbados, a thousand odd miles distant, and the captain decided that our best plan was to steer in that direction. Our rations worked out to two biscuits and halfa gill of water per day— not a very substantial dict upon which to do hard rowing. Fortunately, however, on the third day the captain's boat fell in with the steamship Sorderer, of Baltimore, bound for MAGAZINE. SITE it Louw LA Chile. Captain Dalton, of the Borderer, hove to and cruised round in search of the other boats. I was picked up second, and later the third boat-load was rescued. We searched for De Viera until nightfall, but without success, and then reluctantly gave him up. The Borderer landed us at Pernambuco, in Brazil, where we caught the steamship Pydza, which brought us back to Philadelphia. We subsequently learnt that De Viera’s boat had not been picked up, and those on board had passed through a most trying experience. De Viera had made his way to Barbados, rowing a thousand miles with a starving crew, the mate maintaining his course by the aid of a pocket compass. When they reached land they were nearly dead—and no wonder! The water had been doled out with a little tin bottle- top in the proportion of two tablespoonfuls per man per day, with half a ship’s biscuit each. Providential showers from time to time enabled them to slightly replenish their water supply, while they also succeeded in catching a few flying fish, which they ate raw. At Barbados they fell in with the steamship J/adrana, bound for New York. Six of the company took passage on her, and upon arrival at the Metropolis of the Western Continent were taken in hand and well treated by the Seamen’s Friendly Society, until they secured fresh berths. As for myself, upon reaching home I set off on another hunt in Hudson’s Bay.

Page 452

The Tragedy of a Swiss Mountain. By Mavrick STEINMANN, OF THE Swiss ALPINE CLUB. Herein the author tells the story of a pathetic Alpine drama and the long search for a missing man. In spite of heroic endeavours it was nearly six months betore the efforts of the searchers were crowned with success, and the body of the unfortunate climber recovered from its icy tomb. GEES N the 31st December, ten years ago, TED five: young fellows left their homes to spend New Year’s Day in a charming little Alpine caéane built on the steep slopes of a summit of the Swiss Alps. Accompanied by a “ porteur,” whose services they had secured in the village at the foot of the mountain, the party com- menced the ascent, although the weather was not propitious --in fact, decidedly the reverse. Following a narrow mountain road they passed several little hamlets and chalets nestling on the sides of the mountain, and soon found them- selves in the pine forest. Gaiety reigned among them all; they were pleased to be alone with Nature, although the walking was rendered very fatiguing by a quantity of soft snow, into which they sank at every step. On emerging from the wood they noticed, not without a certain appre- hension, that ominous dark grey clouds were racing across the sky overhead, driven by a strong gale of wind. ‘The porter, knowing the locality well, advised them to retrace their steps and abandon the ascent, pointing out that the afternoon was already well advanced and that night would soon begin to fall. These facts, together with the threatening storm and violent wind, would make the ascent very dangerous. A long discussion ensued, but, despite the experienced advice of the porter, the young men decided to continue their climb. The little caravan now found themselves on the high pasture-land, which in summer echoes with the lowing of herds of grazing cattle ; but now in winter all is so different ; everything was covered with the white blanket of snow—here and there often attaining a depth of thirty feet—and the scene was desolate in the extreme. Meanwhile the weather hecame worse and worse. Outside the forest the climbers found seed arenes the subsequ jal inquiry , ; u iu ‘The first part of the story: gives a résnand of the accids survivors. The second sets forth my own eric ch and subsequent recuvery of the unloriu: nate climber’s body. difficult and tiring ; the snow was very soft and powdery, and they sank in up to their waists. Arriving, after great efforts, at the. top ofa steep slope, the men stopped to regain their breath. Night was now upon them, and the wind, blowing furiously, drove a blizzard of ‘snow into their faces. Again they discussed the situation somewhat more doubtfully. . The cabane was not very far away now—about an hour’s walk in summer—and in daylight they could probably have seen it, perched up above near the rocks. It was out of the question to return now; to go on was absolutely necessary, and go on they did, very slowly and with great difficulty, sinking farther into the snow at every step. All their gaiety had now disappeared, fatigue was rapidly overtaking them, and the cold was stiffening their limbs, while the storm and wind made their struggle almost a fight against death. Presently Frank—who knew this part of the mountain well from past ascents—left his com- panions to try and gain the caéane before them, so as to light the fire and prepare hot drinks for them. These cadanes, built by the Swiss Alpine Club in various odd and inhospitable corners of the Alps, are quite small, and generally built of wood. Furnished as they are inside with rugs, blankets, and all cooking utensils, with a stove and an ample provision of wood for burning, they are real little havens for Alpine climbers. Frank, who was a strong young man of twenty-two, did not fear facing the tempest alone, and continued on his solitary way slowly and with difficulty, happy in the idea of pre- paring a cheering reception in the caéane for his comrades. Meanwhile the storm became worse and worse, and the terrific gusts of wind con- tinually blew him over. More swimming than walking in this powdery snow, which chilled him to the marrow, he advanced very slowly. But the caéane was now not more than half a mile away, at the top of the slope. Bringing all his energies and physical force into requisition,

Page 453

444 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. he covered another hundred yards ; but then, to his horror, he felt one of his feet become as dead. At once he knew what it was—frostbite ! ‘The discovery frightened him. Could he reach the cabane in time to bring life back to the limb by vigorous rubbing with snow? Fighting down his growing fears, he struggled bravely to pro- ceed in the face of the blizzard. At last, how- ever, despair overtook him despite himself. He made a last superhuman effort to reach the haven, now only about five hundred yards away, but all to no avail; he collapsed into the snow and lay motionless. The snow fell thicker and thicker, covering the poor climber with its icy mantle, while the storm raged with unabated fury. Soon after his friends arrived at the spot— almost at the end of their physical strength—and threw themselves down beside their companion, utterly exhausted. With infinite difficulty the courageous porter helped three of them to reach the cabane ; then he descended to where Frank and a comrade named Paul were still lying, the latter rubbing Frank’s limbs. It was absolutely impossible for the two men, worn out as they to poor Frank, whom he now found sleeping. He-wrapped him upas best he could, while l'rank mumbled that he was not suffering, that he was all right, and did not feel the cold. The porter, having done everything that was humanly possible under the circumstances, staggered back to the cabane through the storm. There he found the four others fast asleep, stupefied by fatigue. Enveloped in the warm blankets, and covered thicker and thicker every minute with the mantle of snow, Frank slept on peacefully. Deeper and deeper it grew ; and under this white, icy shroud Frank passed to the long sleep of death, while the storm and wind chanted his requiem. And so another Alpine tragedy was added to the lengthy list. ‘The storm, which continued for several days, was one that will long remain memorable in the meteorological annals of Switzerland. ‘Two days after a rescue-party of twenty strong men left the valley to succour the climbers, but could not reach them—the snow was too deep. The next day a second party succeeded in THE SEARCH-PARTY ON THEIR WAY UP THE MOUNTAIN — NOTICE THE HAVOC (UNDER CROSS) WROUGHT BY From aj were, to carry the helpless Frank to the cabane. So the porter, brave fellow that he was, pulled Paul up to the ca/ane. This done, although completely exhausted, he once more descended with a last effort, carrying blankets and coverings THE AVALANCHE, (Photo. getting five hundred yards farther than the first, and had the satisfaction of rescuing the men at the hut, who were able to leave the cadane during a lull in the storm, and who were on the point of collapse from. fatigue. The following

Page 454

THE TRAGEDY OF A SWISS MOUNTAIN. 445 day a third party, twenty - five strong, furnished with the Jura-pattern snow- shoes (which are better than the Canadian pattern for these mountains), reached the spot where poor Trank was sleeping his last sleep, but all their efforts were in vain —the fathomless snow guarded _ its prize too well. The avalanches — which were beginning to fall from the neigh- bouring heights threatened to engulf the rescuers, and they were finally forced to retreat. It was at last de- cided—all hope of rescuing poor Frank 3 i are lives fiapinig beim Eas anme = R SONFERORATAY CEI RERES DOD WAR) RxOmRSTO/Ece NaN EyaRNATN oe: /E given up—to await the thaw of the snows. So the sad affair mountain accident took a new aspect. The remained for the time being. Courts took the matter up, and the Swiss papers However, certain facts, which need not be filled their pages with details of what became related here,*came to light, and what would known as the “ Affaire.” Animated discussions otherwise have been regarded as an ordinary took place in Alpine circles, and all kinds of speculations — were indulged in con- cerning the poor lad lying up there in his icy tomb. At last a few mountaineers — some of whom did not even know poor Frank—resolved to recover the body at all costs for the sor- rowing parents. We found our- selves, one fine morning in the early days of February, ready to start on a search — expedition for the recovery of the body. We were seventeen men in all—thirteen From a} THE SNOW-UKIED CHALET WHERE THE SEAKCHERS RESTED, (Pha | friends, three

Page 455

THE WIDE 446 WORLD MAGAZINE. lagers, we started on our gruesome journey. Soon we had left the hamlets and chalets be- hind us and were working our way through the huge pine forest, where the scene was magnificent. Draped in im- maculate white, the large fir trees, with their black branches laden with snow, ap- peared in all sorts offantasticshapes. We noted with pleasure that the From a\ THE SEARCHERS AT WORK. porters, and one newspaper representative — and had met at the foot of the mountain where the tragedy had occurred. Our prepara- tions had been carefully made ; we each carried snow-shoes, and had, besides a plentiful supply of provisions for several days, a quantity of spades and “sondes.” snow under foot was quite firm— we could walk on it without sinking in, as, under the action of the sun and the subsequent frost, a layer of frozen snow had formed on the surface. This fact we knew would enable us to gain the cabane expeditiously and without undue fatigue. On the outskirts of the forest we came upon {Photo. ‘These ‘“sondes” are long iron rods, some twelve or fifteen feet in length, with one end_har- poon-shaped. In ad- dition we all carried our “piolets” (ice- axes) and were fully equipped for the perils and obstacles of a mountain ascent in winter. A large dog, in whom we placed great confi- dence, completed our party. The weather was beautifully fine, with the winter sun shin- ing brightly and making objects around glisten in its light. We took a final look at our equipment, andthen, amidst the good wishes of the vile From al DIGGING ACTHESCHOIN THE DFRE-SNOW, [Photo,

Page 456

THE TRAGEDY OF A SWISS MOUNTAIN. 447 the track of an ava- lanche which — had taken place a few days previously from a neighbouring height, leaving de- struction in its wake. ‘The first photograph reproduced shows the enormous damage done. The force of |{ , the slide must have been simply terrific. All over a space six hundred feet wide the trees had been razed to the ground, with their trunks brokenand splintered like matchwood, while here and there enormous — boulders and blocks of rock lay heaped pell-mell. We traversed this barricade with difficulty and apprehension, for stones falling now and again showed us that the danger had not altogether passed. Presently we arrived at a little chalet, in- habited in summer by the shepherds, but now entirely hidden by the snow. As will be seen From al THE IMPROVISED COFFIN IN WHICH POQR FRANK'S BODY WAS PLACED. (Photo. from the photograph, nothing but the roof could be discerned. We had a short rest here, and, leaving about three o’clock in the afternoon, attacked a very steep slope of frozen snow, in which we were obliged to cut steps with our piolets so as to enable us to proceed. This brought us to a small plateau, forming the bottom of an immense basin of snow, surrounded on three sides by walls of jagged rock. Before us, near a hollo- be- tween two summits, we could discern, perched high up above, our destination, the cabane. ‘This brought from our party a cry of joy, stopped, however, no sooner than started, for one of the porters pointed out the spot where the mortal remains of poor Frank were supposed to be lying. It was now five o'clock, the sun had already gone down, and night was falling rapidly ; the sky was a beautiful dark blue with the stars twinkling, but it was fearfully cold as we pur- sued our way, each one re- flecting silently the while. Lifting ourselves slowly over the sides of the “basin ”— for we were now getting tired—we reached the cabane at last, at an altitude of eight thousand feet. Inside the cadbane the REMOVING A BLOCK OF FROZEN SNow, From a) thermometer showed

Page 457

448 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. fallen, entirely covering up a larg. rock, close to which Frank had collapsed. Each of us picked up a rod, and we proceeded to “sound” a patch of snow about a hundred and fifty feet long anda hundred feet wide, situated on a very steep slope below the caéane. Although on the surface the snow was coated with ice, underneath it was soft and easy to work. From a) eighteen degrees of frost, while outside the cold was intense. One of us had his hands slightly frozen, but by vigorous rubbing with snow we were able to set things right again. ‘The photograph reproduced on page 445 shows the cabane. It was on the slope to the right that the body we were searching for lay, some five or six hundred yards below, buried deep in the snow. ‘The next day we were up before sunrise, the sharp Alpine cold nerving us to our work. We made a start directly after breakfast. Each of us donned a pair of smoked spectacles to protect our eyes from the TAKING THE CORFIN OVER TIE SNOW-SLOPES. (Photo. Methodically we went over the snow, which was so deep that the rods did not always touch the ground. After about an hour’s continuous work we located a large rock, so we dropped the sounding-rods and commenced digging a trench. By this time the sun was pouring down its rays on us from above, and although the season was the middle of winter and we were seven thousand six hundred feet above sea-level, this hard work made the perspiration pour down our foreheads, and we were forced to work in our shirt-sleeves. By eleven o’clock we had dug a trench about twenty-five feet long and nine to twelve feet glare of the snow, {= and then, with our piolets in our hands, we made our way to the scene of opera- tons. The men who were with Frank at the time ofthe catastrophe, and who were now with us, differed is to the exact spot where they last saw their unfortu- nate comrade lying. This was accounted for by the enormous quantity of snow which had since © From al ANOTHER VIEW OF THE SAD LITTLE PROGESSION, [Pheto.

Page 458

THE ‘TRAGEDY OF A SWISS MOUNTAIN. 449 deep, and from the bottom of the trench we again commenced sounding in all direc- tions. Here and there the rods still did not touch “erra firma, and so we went on digging. By this time the rock was partly uncovered, and each time our sounding -rods touched something unusual our spirits rose hopefully. This happened over and over again, but we were doomed to disap- pointment. We put the dog on to the scent, but the animal could discover nothing. Then we made small lateral trenches leading from the big one, and one into a hollow between the snow and rocks, explor- ing them all thoroughly, but without success. At last we began to get fatigued and discouraged, and, as we had worked since about 7 a.m., we returned to the cadane for food and rest. Returning to our work with renewed vigour, we worked on silently, experiencing at each moment some new hope and disappointment. One of the photographs shows us in the act of moving a large block of frozen snow. After working arduously until a late hour we came to the conclusion that the body must have been moved, either by an avalanche or else by From a) THE IMPROVISRL HEARSE PASSING THROUGH THE VILLAGR, WHERE YOUNG GIRLS LAID WREATHS OF ALFINE FLOWERS UPON THE COFFIN, (Photo. the slipping of the snow on the pasture-land, for such movements occur frequently all through the winter. We had a long discussion, and took the advice of the porters—they who know the mountain so much better than we do. At last we decided, reluctantly, to abandon the search for the time being, and, with sadness in our hearts, we left this Alpine tomb behind us, discouraged at our non-success, and commenced the descent. We soon arrived at the village again, where the good folks bombarded us with questions—to which, alas! we could only return unsatisfactory replies, Four months passed quietly away after our failure, and then, one day, we received a tele- gram from a person to whom we hadentrusted the task of watching the melting of the snows on the mountain. ‘The telegram was favour- able; the snow had melted considerably and the weather was apparently auspicious. At the end of May we formed a new search- party of nineteen men and a few porters, and we again found our- selves proceeding THE COFFIN, AFTER REACHING THE LOWLANDS, WAS PLACED UPON A MOUNTAIN CART, AND SO From a\ Vol. xviii.—57. CARRIED TO THE VILLAGE, along the route we had Photo, . negotiated four months

Page 459

450 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. previously. ‘The snow had greatly lessened, for a warm wind (known as the “fohn”) had been blowing, and we had great hopes of meeting with success. We soon arrived at the spot where we had worked so arduously before—but what a difference in the scene! Avalanches had descended from all round, everything was over- turned, and déér7s strewn everywhere; there was even more snow here now than previously. However, we recommenced digging. At five o'clock in the afternoon a storm came on, the wind got up with all its force, and we foot of the mountain. On arrival our friend in- formed us that his little sporting dog had located the body, lying about three feet under the snow. Our preparations were quickly made, and taking with us a temporary coffin roughly made out of pine boards nailed together, and slung on two long poles to enable it to be easily carried, we made the ascent for the third time. The scene had again completely changed. No longer was the mountain snow-covered ; all was now green, and the gay chirruping of the birds in the trees contrasted painfully with the sentiments filling our hearts. For the third time Te sy ag Le C we passed through the large pine forest and came again to the higher pasture-land, which was still white with snow. On arrival at the fatal place we found the judicial authorities of the canton already on the spot, as they wished to make certain observations where the body was found. ‘The ghastly spectacle which met our gaze will remain engraved on our memories for ever, and what followed impressed me_ pro- foundly. Lying in the snow, where they had been for five and a half months, were the mortal remains of poor Frank, bound up in the blankets. THE COFFIN AWAITING ITS LAST JOURNEY— From a) DISCOVERED THE BODY. were obliged to rush for shelter to the caéane. During the evening the tempest was terrible ; it was impossible to light the stove, for the chimney had been blown away and the wind put the fire out. Never in all my moun- taineering experiences have I seen such a gale; boulders that the wind had dislodged hurled past the caéane, while others struck it heavily and went bounding away down the slopes. The caéane itself rocked violently in the gale, and we expected every minute that the whole building and its contents would be blown into space. At daybreak the tempest subsided a little, and profiting by a calm in thé storm we left the spot. It was clearly useless to continue our search, and so, not without trouble and the danger of avalanches overtaking us, we again reached the village, once more baffled by the forces of Nature. Our two failures made us angry. We had been beaten twice, but we were more than ever determined to succeed. One day in the middle of June we got another telegram, and at once started for the ON THE LEFT IS THE DUG WHICH FIRST. Reverently we placed the corpse in the coffin, closed the lid, and at once commenced the descent. Half-way down we were able to place the coffin on a mountain cart which had come to meet us, and, accompanied by some peasants, we descended into the valley across the fields. As the sad procession passed the first of the hamlets a few young girls came and placed a wreath of Alpine flowers on the coffin of the poor lad who had lost his life on'their mountains —a simple action which brought tears to our eyes. Night began to fall, the chirruping of the birds died away, and to the melancholy tolling of the little chapel bell we passed into the village. The whole population was now out, lined up on each side of the road, the men bareheaded and the women silently praying. (Photo. Next day the body had to be transferred to the railway company for conveyance, and full of gratitude we took our leave of these simple mountain folk, walking with the improvised hearse along the dusty road towards the nearest station, there to leave to the care of the officials the coffin containing the mortal remains of poor Frank, on the way €o itsylast-résting-place.

Page 460

An Indian “Sherlock Holmes.” THE STRANGE EXPERIENCES OF SARDAR MIR ABDUL ALI, KHAN BAHADUR, CHIEF OF THE BOMBAY NATIVE POLICE. By H. L. Apam. We have pleasure in presenting our readers with these fascinating real-life narratives—something altogether new and unique in detective stories. They are a selection from the adventures of one of the most distinguished officials of the Indian police, Sardar Mir Abdul Ali. The Eastern malefactor is perhaps the wiliest in the world, and he makes a crime a veritable work of art. Astute indeed must be the officer who would lay him by the heels, but, as this absorbing series shows, even these master-minds meet their match in the “Indian Sherlock Holmes.” II.—THE TRAGEDY wy N Tuesday, 12th November, 1872, a A w) peon, or native messenger, called at Na) Prospect Lodge, the residence of Mr. De Ga, an accountant of the é Bank of Bombay, situated in the Grant Road, Bombay, and handed in a package containing some cakes. To the servant who received the parcel the messenger said :— “T have been sent by Mr. De Ga, a near relation of your master’s, with this packet of confectionery, and to ask him to be so good as to accept the little present, with his best wishes.” It was the fall of the after- noon and the light was fading, but tne servant was able to distinguish that the messenger was a youngish man, somewhat seedily attired, and apparently not too well nourished. Having delivered his message and the parcel, he turned on his heel and walked away. He had not, however, gone many yards when a man in a turban and ample robes emerged from a side-turning opposite and for a few moments stood looking after the receding form of the peon. He was a man of expressive countenance and chocolate-hued skin, with jet- black hair, a black moustache, and piercing brown eyes. As he stood there he made an almost imperceptible gesture with his right hand, and there appeared from the lane at the head of which he stood, but on the other side, the tall, gaunt figure of a religious men- dicant, with unkempt hair and beard. The turbaned gentle- man slightly inclined his head OF AN INHERITANCE. in the direction of the retreating peon, where- upon the mendicant shuffled away after the messenger. A few yards in rear of the beggar walked a native of uninviting appearance, carry- ing in his right hand a heavy staff qr cudgel. The mendicant seemed to be taking his cue from the turbaned gentleman, and the native from the mendicant. The latter took the left- hand side of the road, the native the right, the mendicant following the peon and_ the ‘THE MENDICANT SHUFFLED AWAY AFTER THE MESSENGER."

Page 461

452 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. native the mendicant. The turbaned gentle- man appeared to be quite ignorant of the exist- ence of the others, and a few moments later, when they had all disappeared in the distance to the left, he gathered his robes about him, turned about, and strode away down the lane. That night Mr. De Ga, his wife, and his servants were scized with a mysterious sickness. Shortly afterwards it was reported that a relation of his, Mr. A. De Ga, and his wife had also been stricken down with a similar illness, to which, unfortunately, they. had speedily suc- cumbed. Scarcely had these suspicious deaths become known when it was further reported that Mr. J. D. Pereira (managing clerk to Messrs. Dallas and Lynch, solicitors), a friend of the De Gas, and his mother had likewise fallen victims to the same mysterious malady. Thus, within a few hours of the delivery of the small packet of cakes at Prospect Lodge by the peon, four persons had met with an untimely death, and several others had narrowly escaped such a fate. The problem that now presented itself to the police of Bombay was indeed a difficult one, and it plunged the Sardar into a brown study. That a crime of great magnitude, cunning, and daring had been committed appeared quite clear, but who the culprits were or what their motive could be was a profound mystery. ‘The family of De Ga was a somewhat numerous one, having several branches. Nicholas De Ga and his wife Rose dwelt at Prospect Lodge, while a younger brother, named Michael, lived in a small bungalow at Bandora, where also another brother, Arthur, occupied a house. The first thing that Abdul Ali did was to seek an interview with Nicholas De Ga, and institute an exhaustive inquiry at his house. He found De Ga, looking very pale and ill, reclining upon a sofa, slowly recovering from his indisposition. His wife, who had been less affected by the mystcrious sickness, was present in the room at the detective’s request. “This is an unfortunate business !” It was the Sardar who spoke, and as he did so he sighed and passed his fingers thoughtfully over his chin. 4 “Most unfortunate,” responded the patient, languidly ; “and very mysterious.” “Yes; it is mysterious,” agreed the detective. “Have you any relations—any friends—or, perhaps, I should say enemies, who would be likely to benefit by your death ?” “No,” replied De Ga, “none that I am aware of—I mean no persons who would be so wicked as to endeavour to encompass my death to benefit themselves.” “Who would benefit by your death?” con- tinued the detective, who did not seem to be altogether satisfied with De Ga's disclaimer. “Suppose you favour me with a list of your friends, saying who and what they are. Perhaps that would be the best way.” “Certaily,” replied De Ga; “that is soon done. There are my brothers Michael and Arthur at Bandora, both of whom are beyond suspicion.” “Yes,” was the laconic response of the detective. “T do not know of anybody else who can be taken into consideration in connection with my estate, except, of course, my wife.” “Of course,” repeated the Sardar. ‘“ But,” he went on, calmly, “as to these brothers. Which of them would inherit your property in the event of both you and your wife dying?” “ Michael,” said Mr. De Ga. “Ah!” exclaimed the detective, and relapsed into a thoughtful silence. At length he said, “Now, this cake which was left at the house by a peon ; tell me about that incident.” He was now addressing his remarks more to Mrs. De Ga than her husband, and the lady replied, speaking for the first time during the inter- view :— “The parcel was taken in by Akbar, one of my servants. Shall I send for him?” “If you please,” said the detective. Akbar was summoned, entered the room with a salaam, and stood respectfully apart. He was questioned by his mistress as to precisely what happened when the peon called, and described the incident minutely and in a straightforward manner. He repeated the message delivered with the parcel, and described how the mes- senger had left without saying anything further. He was a poor-looking man, said Akbar— apparently one who would be willing to under- take any little commission that would bring him in a small sum of money. “Which way did he go when he left?” asked the detective. “He turned to the left and went down the road,” said Akbar. He could furnish no further information, and was accordingly dis- missed from the discussion. “Who did you think had sent you this cake?” asked the Sardar. “T thought it had been sent by Michael, as the messenger stated,” answered Mr. De Ga. “Tt was wrapped in paper, but bore no inscrip- tion. Michael, as you know, denies all know- ledge of the matter.” “ Have you the wrapper ?” “Tam afraid it was destroyed or lost,” said Mrs. De Ga, at which the Sardar allowed him-

Page 462

AN INDIAN self to be betrayed into making a gesture of annoyance and impatience. “Have you any of the cake left?” the detective asked. “Yes, I think there is a small portion,” replied the lady. “ Will you please let me have it?” “SHERLOCK HOLMES.” 453 who was formerly Rose Mary Stephens, by her father. ‘The terms of the will directed that she should inherit the property in the event either: of her coming of age or marrying. The busi- ness has been in the hands of solicitors, and will very soon be finally settled.” : “ And if your wife had died?” “The property would have gone to the next of kin.” “Michael ?” “Ves.” The detective nodded thoughtfully. After a pause he said :— “(HE DESCRIBED THR INCIDENT MINUTELY AND IN A STRAIGHTFORWARD MANNER.” Mrs. De Ga left the room to fetch it. “What happened to the cake when it was received ?” the detective asked De Ga. “It was placed on the dinner-table,” replied the accountant, “or at least a portion of it was, we having sent some to Arthur and some to a friend, Mr. Pereira. We all partook of it, including the servants. It must, of course, have been poisoned, but by whom I cannot conjecture.” And the invalid relapsed into a fit of dejection and mental distress. “Yes, it was unquestionably poisoned,” agreed the detective, reflectively. ‘By the way, of what does your property consist ?” “Mainly of a legacy bequeathed to my wife, “Who is your solicitor?” “A Parsee named Pestonji Dinshaw,” replied De Ga; “he is also an executor. A relation named Anne Pennell is an executrix.” “When do you say the matter of the legacy is to be finally adjusted ?” “On January sth next.” “Your brother Michael lives at Bandora?” “Yes.” “Has he any servants ?” “Yes ; two.” “Would they be known to your servant Akbar?” “Yes, I think so.” “Sure?”

Page 463

454 THE WIDE “Yes; unless my brother had changed his servants recently.” Here Mrs. De Ga re- turned, and handed to the detective a small piece of cake on a slip of paper. The Sardar looked closely at it for a few moments ; then he wrapped it up and placed it in his pocket. A minute or two after he took his leave. So far the mystery only seemed to deepen. One of the first things to be done, if possible, was to discover the whereabouts of the coolie who had left the cake at Prospect Lodge, but search how they might the police failed to discover any trace of him, where- upon the Sardar arrived at a practical conclusion. “He has been murdered!” said he, significantly ; “murdered by, or by the orders of, the guilty person or persons, in order that he may not turn up and give evidence against them. We must search for the body !” He then gave instruc- tions to his subordinates to closely scrutinize all those places where the corpse of a murdered man might be concealed, paying particular attention to the nullahs (ravines). ‘This was done, and the efforts of the police were eventually rewarded by the dis- covery of the dead body of a coolie buried ina ditch. An examination revealed the fact that he had been hit over the head with a club and that his throat had been afterwards cut, but he was readily identified by the servant Akbar as the man from whom he had received the cake. This discovery, however, was of very little prac- tical value, inasmuch as, being dead, the poor fellow could tell no tales. Nobody but Akbar could say anything concerning him, and he appeared to have been one of those friendless waifs—human flotsam—to be found in most parts of the world; just the kind of man, in fact, to be made use of by a subtle assassin and, having served his purpose, disposed of without trouble. Meanwhile, the remnants of the cake, it should be stated, having been subjected to WORLD MAGAZINE. “THE EFFORTS OF THE POLICR WERE EVENTUALLY REWARDED BY THE DISCOVERY OF THF. DEAD BODY OF A CouLIE,” analysis, revealed traces of arsenic. The police were puzzled and annoyed at their inability to get to the bottom of so serious a crime, and a reward was offered for information that would lead to the conviction of the criminal or criminals ; but time went by and no information was forthcoming. Just about this period the Viceroy paid an official visit to Bombay, and the excitement consequent upon this function effectually drove the De Ga case out of the public mind. ‘The Sardar, however, had not forgotten it, and with dogged pertinacity con- tinued his inquiries. On December gth, Abdul Ali received a visit from a man named Ali Mahomed Borah, who made a sensational statement. He stated that he was a friend of the Parsee solicitor, Pestonji Dinshaw, who had consulted him as to the best method of “removing” two objectionable people, asking him if he knew of anybody who, for a consideration, would undertake the busi- ness. He, Borah, had suggested a fakir named Khakisha, who lived ina, bungalow a little way

Page 464

AN INDIAN out of the town, in a thoroughfare known as Third Kamatipura Lane. night, he told the detective, he was to introduce Dinshaw and a confederate named Saccaram Raghoba to the fakir, when the business would be discussed. Questioned as to why he had betrayed his “friend” in this manner, the informer replied that he was not exactly a friend, but only an acquaintance. He considered it a duty, he added, virtuously, to inform the authorities, and so prevent the consummation of a heinous crime. The Sardar, of course, knew that the reward had a good deal to do with Borah’s action, but it was not for him to grumble at the man’s motives, so long as his information led to a solution of the perplexing problem of the murders. He therefore acted promptly upon the news he had received. Sum- moning several of his officers, he imparted the On the following | “SHERLOCK HOLMES.” 455 that for you. I should suggest that you make your way secretly to the neighbourhood of the house, remain in hiding somewhere near—there are plenty of thick bushes about—and then, when the coast is clear, enter the house, and remain in the room adjoining that in which the interview is to take place. I will make a point of going on ahead of the others, and will induce the fakir to quit the house for a few minutes, so as to leave the coast clear for you to enter; there is no one beside himself in the place. Go straight through intoan inner room, in which is a small window looking on to the compound. ‘There you will be safe, and able to hear alt that is being said in the adjoining room.” “Yes; that will do excellently,” said the Sardar, and his officers nodded assent. It puzzled the chief detective not a little as to why the Parsee solicitor, Pestonji Dinshaw, “HE CONSIDERED IT A DUTY, HE ADDED, TO INFORM THE AUTHORITIES.” latest development of the De Ga case to them, and then proceeded to question Borah. “Do you know the bungalow where this meeting is to take place?” “Yes ; well,” replied Borah. “Is'it possible for us to hide inside so that we may be able to overhear all that takes place without our presence being known to the others ?” “Oh, yes,” said Borah; “I could arrange should be mixed up in such a murderous busi- ness, but he shrewdly surmised that perhaps Mr. De Ga had not told him all the facts con- cerning his wife’s inheritance. However, for the present the rendezvous was sufficient. It was arranged that, besides the Sardar, there should be present in the bungalow of the fakir Mr. Vincent, a collector; Mir Akbar Ali, the Sardar’s father; Superintendent Mills; and several police-officers, . They were to split up

Page 465

456 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. into pairs and approach the bungalow by different roads, all meeting at a certain spot prior to effect- ing an entrance. Accordingly, on the following night this part of the programme was safely accomplished, and from their place of conceal- ment among the bushes they saw Borah arrive, and shortly after leave the bungalow in company with the fakir. Having allowed sufficient time for the two men to get clear of the house, the officers stole from their hiding-place and_ stealthily entered the bungalow, at once making their way to the inner room indicated by Borah. It was a small house, not remarkable for cleanli- ness, and the fakir apparently lived entirely alone. ‘The place was almost destitute of furniture, being exclusively adorned by weird and uncanny-looking emblems associated with the practice of sorcery. The room they passed through in order to reach the inner apartment was indifferently lighted by a sinall lamp, and the opening between the two rooms was masked by a heavy curtain. This they drew on one side, entered the gloomy inner room, and pulled the curtains back into place. All that could be done now was to wait patiently for the con- spirators to arrive, and accordingly the officers prepared themselves for a long and silent vigil. It was not a pleasant business, waiting there, almost afraid to breathe, in that dark and stuffy room, but a police-officer’s duty must be done, whether it be pleasant or the reverse, and so they waited with what paticnce they could muster for the coming of the plotters. The chimes of the half hour after ten had died away, but still the conspirators did not arrive. A quarter to eleven, and no conspira- tors! The officers began to chafe at the inaction, suspecting that some trick had been played them. Eleven o’clock! The chimes had scarcely finished when the little party in the bungalow heard the sound of approaching foot- steps and voices. ‘The sound came nearer and nearer. It was the conspirators at last! Veterans as thcy were, the detectives felt a little thrill of excitement. Presently the new arrivals entered the bungalow, and soon came into the adjoining room, whereupon the watchers grew rigid with attention. From the sounds it was evident that there were several persons, but at first they spoke in subdued tones. ‘The Sardar went as near the opening as he deemed prudent, and listened with all his ears. “What service is it you desire of me?” asked the fakir, solemnly. “JT am informed,” said another voice—clearly that of a younger man, probably Dinshaw, the solicitor—“ that you have the power to visit death upon whomsoever you choose. ‘There are certain persons whom it is expedient to my interests should disappear. Does your power go so far? I am willing to pay hand- somely for such service.” “What are these people,” said the old man, after a pause, “ whom you wish removed ?” “They are Kristces ” (Christians). “Their names ?” “De Ga.” Here the voices became indistinct, but presently grew louder again. * “It must be done by sorcery,” said Dinshaw, emphatically. “ Poison is offensive to the sheth ” (solicitor), explained a third person.” The voice was not that of Borah, so it must have been the con- federate Raghoba speaking. “Cannot you visit them with a fatal illness?” asked Dinshaw, eagerly. “1 do not like poison, as my friend says. It is not to be relied on, is dangerous to those who seek its aid, and some- times miscarries in its purpose. It must be done by sorcery, old man. Look here, I will make a proposal to you. On the day that these people fall sick I will give you five hundred rupees, and if they are dead within three days I will give you a further two thousand rupees. What say you?” There ensued a pause of some seconds’ duration, during which there reigned a profound silence. ‘Then the old man spoke. “I must consult my book of divination,” he said; “and it is also necessary that I should see these people.” “Very well,” said the solicitor, quickly, “you shall. You shall be taken to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock and see them. But, mind, this business must be commenced within twenty- four hours, after which my offer does not hold good.” The voices again subsided. The Sardar, turn- ing to his assistants, whispered that they had heard enough, and that the moment for action had arrived: Accordingly, with the swiftness of thought, one of the officers flung aside the curtain and darted across the outer room to the door, thus barring the exit. Simultaneously the others swarmed into the room, headed by the Sardar, who called out :— “You are my prisoners !” He then produced his warrant and explained the nature of the charge. All the conspirators were too dumbfounded to utter a word, and were handcuffed and removed in custody—all, that is, save Borah, whom the officers purposely allowed to escape. ‘The next step taken by the Sardar was to pay Mr. De Ga a further visit and request that gentleman to give chim, a, full and particular

Page 466

“AN INDIAN account of his dealings with the solicitor, Dinshaw. This revealed the following facts: De Ga had taken proceedings against Dinshaw, as executor for his wife’s property. in order to This the The plaint remove the business from his hands. solicitor strenuously objected to. yes. was filed in October, 1872, and a rule granted on November 4th. The solicitor tried to com- promise, and offered to make over ten thousand rupees in cash and a house of the value of eight thousand rupees in full settlement, but this was declined by the De Gas. Then Dinshaw made a further offer to pay twelve thousand rupees and the house aforesaid in a month from December sth, and this was accepted. In the meantime it was clear that the villainous Dinshaw had endeavoured to en- compass the deaths of the legatees, in order to be rid of his responsibility to find the money. Curiously enough, his first attempt “SHERLOCK HOLMES” 457 to destroy his former clients—conceived with fiendish ingenuity so as to throw suspicion upon one or other of Mr. De Ga’s brothers—had miscarried on account of the De Gas’ generosity, which had saved their lives, but had been the cause of the deaths of several other people. It will be noted that the final settlement was to be made one month from December 5th, and it was on the gth of that month that Borah made his communication to the police. The case was tried before Mr. Justice —_— “(THE OTHEKS SWARMED INTO THE ROOM, HEADED BY THE SIRDAR, WHO CALLED OUT, ‘YOU ARE MY PRISONERS !'" Bayley, and caused considerable sensation. The solicitor and his confederate were charged with conspiracy, and on this count they were sen- tenced to seven years’ rigorous imprisonment. There is no doubt that the mysterious indi- vidual in the ample robes, who stood at the corner of the street while the mendicant and the native, who were hired assassins, followed the unfortunate coolie, was Dinshaw in disguise. The fakir could not be charged with any offence, as he had not consented to anything, so he was eventually released. Raghoba died in prison. And so ended the tragedy of the De Ga inheritance. : (Zo be continued.) Vol. xviii.—58.

Page 467

The Sea-Hedgehog Harvest. An interesting description of a quaint industry which very few people have ever heard’ of— the capture and sale of the “‘ Sea~-Hedgehog.” By A. PircatRN-KNOWLEs. Photographs by the Author. EOPLE are always on the look-out for edible novelties, and as a natural consequence we are gradually becom- ing acquainted with what seem, at first sight, to be very strange comes- iblathtnes which, had they appeared on the dinner-table of our forefathers, would probably have been regarded with horror and disdain. In this advanced and educated age, however, such dietetic experiments have become quite the order of the day. Nevertheless, in spite of the praiseworthy desire to tap sources of food supply hitherto unknown to us, some of the tasty dishes greatly appreciated by foreigners find no lasting favour with our own conservative population. Although the humble whelk and periwinkle are consumed in countless thousands, the Continental custom of eating snails and frogs’ legs is deemed little short of barbarous. Personally, after having pluckily indulged in a trial meal of whelks and peri- winkles, as well as French snails, I have arrived at the conclusion that, whatever the nutritive qualities of these delicacies — may be, the taste for eating them with enjoyment is not to be acquired pros a) ina hurry. The frog, on the other hand, has my full appre- ciation as an article of food, and were this unbeauteous ¢reature more widely known in its garb of breadcrumbs as it emerges from the frying-pan, its tender meat would, I venture to opine, constitute a dangerous rival to the delicate SEA-HEDGENOGS. spring chicken. And there are numberless other gastronomical eccentricities at which we marvel, but which are, without doubt, equally palatable. What, for instance, could be more uninviting- looking than a hedgehog? Yet it is said to be capable of furnishing as dainty a dish as could be desired. According to the testimony of those who have partaken of this culinary luxury, this peculiar quadruped, baked in gipsy fashion, in clay, over a wood fire, and subsequently deprived of its prickly, clay-enveloped shell, is worthy to form the piece de résistance of the most sumptuous dinner-party. There seems to be no end to the list of such outlandish tit-bits when one penetrates the mysteries of queer cooking recipes ; in fact, it becomes a question whether a creature exists that has not been found worthy of adorning somebody’s dinner- table. To obtain convincing proofs that this supposition is correct one need notgobeyond the Mediterranean Sea, where many of the people populating the coasts andislands seem to regard practically every- thing living as a source of food. The average Englishman, who clings faithfully and obstinately to the good, old-fashioned menu established by former generations, is struck with awe when he beholds his fellow-creatures in the sunny south satisfying their appetites with almost everything that can be captured by means of gun, knife, or net. However tooth-

Page 468

THE some kid-chops, sparrow-breasts, potted black- bird, and fried octopus may be to those who have cultivated a taste for such things, to the average Northerner this kind of fare will not appeal; and even that wonderful and popular concoction known as “bouillabaisse”—a_pot- pourri fish-soup one might call it, made up of all sorts and conditions of fish, to say nothing of the oil, pepper, and garlic which add to the joys of the connoisseur—even this masterpiece of culinary art often fails to arouse the Anglo- Saxon’s enthusiasm. It is improbable, therefore, that the queer little creature this article deals with will meet with any success as a palatable dish so far as | | | SEA-HEDGEHOG HARVES'I. 489 striking in the eyes of travellers is the modus operand: adupted by those who make it their business to capture the spiny “oursin,” as the Frenchman denominates this much-sought-after shell-fish. ' Nets, lines, and hooks, or any of the custom- ary fishing-gear, are of no earthly use to the hunters of the “ oursin,” yet the mode of pick- ing the hedgehogs from out of their rocky hiding-places under the water is simplicity itself. A bamboo cane, varying in length according to the depth of the water, split at one end in such a manner as to leave a three-cleft point, with a stone or some other object driven in tightly between the separated prongs, and with a piece From a) the gourmet is concerned ; but it will no doubt interest him and others to hear how this in- teresting inhabitant of the ocean is captured and becomes a staple article of consumption and commerce in Southern Europe. I have belauded the dry-land hedgehog as a dainty dinner dish ; let me now proceed to do justice to the so-called sea-hedgehog or sea- urchin ; or rather, to be exact, to one of the many varieties of this species, known by the name of “Echinus esculentus.” his sea- hedgehog resembles his big landsman brother not only in looks but in regard to his excellent qualities as an article of food. Among the many curious methods of fishing practised in the Mediterranean, one of the most HE FISHERMAN AT WORK WITH HIS TRIDENT-HEADED lAMBOO, to. of string tied round it to keep the stone in its place, forms a basket-like receptacle wherewith the sea-urchin is grasped. A short piece of stout wire affixed to the other extremity of the stick, enabling the fisher- man to turn over stones and to search in hidden recesses, completes the primitive apparatus. Equipped with a number of these simple tridents, the fisherman, usually accompanied by someone who plies the oars, skims along over the shallow waters near the coast where his knowledve of fishing-lore tells him the sea-urchin will be found. For obvious reasons he must content himself with the harvest to be reaped close to the shore, but although the area of the_ hedgehog- fisheries must of

Page 469

460 THE WIDE necessity be confined to narrow limits, a sur- prisingly prolific yield may be obtained. I have seen a fisherman —an industrious and skilful one, I admit—pursue his occupation with such success that he would bring home as many as a hundred and twenty dozen a day; but, alas! the wretched price the poor man obtained—a penny a dozen was the market rate at the time —was but a small reward for his exertions. Fortunately for those who depend upon this kind of fishing for a living, the sea-hedgehog is in such great demand that there is little fear of an over-supply ; and if only it were possible to convey the catches to distant inland towns in a fit state for consumption, the prices of the cherished tit-bit, which at the source is within the reach of the most modest purse, might some =a < rt METHOD OF CATCHING THE HEDGENOGS, PRACTISED WORLD MAGAZINE. motionless in some cosy nook, little expecting the sudden intrusion of their persecutors’ tridents. Still closer to the shore, perhaps within three or four yards of the beach, an even more primi- tive, but not so productive, method of catching the sea-hedgehog has its followers. Their capital being too limited to procure a boat, they have to content themselves with tucking up their trousers and wading in the water. Armed -with bamboos of the same pattern as those described, though shorter, or wielding an equally simple instrument consisting of a stick with a piece of bent wire at one extremity, shaped so as to enable the bearer to scoop up the little sea-animals, men, boys, and sometimes girls can be seen up to their knees in BY BOYS AND THOSE UNABLE JO OBTAIN BOATS, From a Photo. day equal those realized by the best “ natives.” Indeed, so highly are sea-hedgehogs appre- ciated by their admirers that in some of the most expensive provision-stores of the Paris boulevards a dozen or two decidedly limp- looking specimens can frequently be seen adorn- ing the slab which displays only the most recherché luxuries of the season, and even in this sorry state they attract enthusiastic purchasers. When the sun rises above the horizon and sheds its rays abroad, enabling those in search of the precious morsels to detect their victims lying about on the rocky ground beneath their boat, you can see the men thrusting their bamboos at the dark, round objects below, which attach themselves by the aid of their tube-like feet to the surface of the stones, or lie the water among the rocks diligently searching for the prickly balls. Cautiously they advance from stone to stone, anxiously evading the unpleasant experience of placing their bare feet on the sharp spines of an unseen hedgehog, for not only is the sensation a painful one, but frequently the wounds caused by this harmless-looking creature produce swellings and inflammation, causing much pain and inconvenience. Clear and transparent as is the water of the Mediterranean, the gentlest breath of wind will produce a disturbing ripple which seriously interferes with the fishing. The slightest fretting of the surface baffles the fisherman completely, and thus he would be entirely dependent on wind and weather were it not fora most effective

Page 470

THE SEA-HEDGEHOG remedy he possesses, which makes him, to a certain extent, at any rate, master of the elements. In the following photograph a small bottle will be seen affixed to the side of the boat. From this, when the waters are slightly agitated, the fisherman takes a drop or two of oil and, sprink- ling the fluid on the ruffled water, establishes a zone of perfect calm around his little craft, enabling him to carry on his work till, perhaps twenty minutes later, a second application becomes necessary. Needless to ‘say, this useful helpmate is powerless to conquer any- thing stronger than a gentle ripple, but, de- prived of his charm, the fisherman would be reduced to but a small number of days on which the natural conditions enable him to wield the bamboo. When the elements are propitious the boats can be seen zigzagging slowly along the rocky shore, spending sometimes as much as an hour on a patch of ground about two or three acres in size, the occupantstaking scrupulous care to avoid poach- ing on the spot selected by their neighbours. Steadily the pile of sea - hedge- hogs increases in size as the busy fisherman hauls them = in one after the other, till at last the pangs of hunger make themselves felt and an interrup- tion of the work is decided upon. A frugal meal, consisting of a few dozen hedge- hogs, a loaf of bread, and a bottle of wine, revives the hunter’s energy, and then the pursuit of the prickly animals is continued with renewed vigour till the time has From a\ THROWING OIL UPON THE WATER SO AS TO CALM RIPPLES AND ENABLE THE FISHERMAN TO SEE THE BOTTOM, (Photo. HARVEST, 461 approached when the better halves of the fishermen may be expected to be awaiting the spoil in order to turn it into ready money. No time is wasted in getting the precious load conveyed to the market-place, and no sooner has it reached its destination than buyers, eager to obtain the cherished dainties while still fresh, crowd around the stalls. None but the freshest specimens will appeal to the connoisseur, for sea-urchins only live a short time after leaving their watery homes. One cannot, therefore, be too particular as to the freshness of this article, for a dead sea-urchin is quite as untempting as a defunct oyster, and— let this be a warning to the inexperienced—it should be borne in mind that it is wise to avoid this quaint dainty if, on opening the shell, you discover the sea-water, always to be found in a fresh specimen, to have taken its departure. In some districts on the French coast where the peculiar prickleback forms one of the chief articles of consumption, special markets for the sale of “oursins” are held in the sea- son, which is at Bed its height during | the first three -| months of the | year. When the popular tit- bit is at its best the restaurants and bars be- come the centres . of attraction for parties feasting on the hedge- hogs and wash- ing them down with wine. It is an amusing sight to watch the proceed- ings-at one of these markets. People of all classes assemble here to bargain for a dozen, a hundred, or a huge basketful of hedgehogs, ac- cording to the size of their

Page 471

462 THE WIDE families and the contents of their purse ; while others stand there, knife in hand, making a hurried midday meal, and gulping down the hedgehogs with a look of intense satisfaction on their faces. At the time when the sea-urchin is in its glory you may see traces of these a/ fresco banquets in every street, and countless empty shells give evidence of the popularity this article of diet enjoys. ‘To the stranger, however, who gazes for the first time in astonishment at the slimy- WORLD MAGAZINE. heard singing its praises. That it has extremely nourishing properties is a fact that cannot be disputed ; as to its full capacities in this respect I am unable to speak from personal experience, but I have met people who practically lived on sea-hedgehogs and bread for weeks and months at a time, and seemed to be none the worse for their peculiar diet. There is, however, one decided objection to the prickly denizen of the sea from the dietetic, point of view—namely, that its consumption is From a) looking, untempting object which he is invited to swallow uncooked—if I am rightly informed, it is never eaten in any other form than raw— this enthusiasm is inexplicable, and one’s first impression is not likely to have the effect of whetting one’s appetite. But in the same way as apparently unconquerable prejudices—in the case of oysters, for instance—have ultimately resulted in a fervent admiration for the once- despised delicacy, the majority of those who give the sea-hedgehog a fair trial will soon be BRINGING THE CATCH ASHORE, (Photo. the means of producing a most unnatural desire to drink, although by not a few of its adherents this peculiarity is looked upon as one of the sea- hedgehog’s chief fascinations! I once refused to join a party of Italians banqueting on sea- urchins, when, as a last inducement, I was begged to consider the benefit I was likely to derive from this meal, inasmuch as there was nothing like sea-hedgehogs for producing a thirst ! -On several occasions, however, I was able to convince myself of the fact that the popu-

Page 472

THE SEA-HEDGEHOG From a\ larity of the sea hedgehog was to a high degree based upon a craving for drink, and that many enthusiastic eaters of the dainty morsel were attracted by it chiefly because, if eaten in large quantities, it is the means of creating a well-nigh unquenchable thirst. Thus the seemingly harm- 2 oe From a) ‘a,"* A SCENE IN THE SEA-HEDGEHOG MARKET, SEA-HEDGEHOG BAR" HARVEST. 463 biz (Photo. less little sea-hedgehog, important as it is as a source of aliment, can be held responsible for many of the evil results of excessive indulgence in the use of intoxicating drinks, and becomes a decidedly harmful article of food if too freely indulged in. in (Photo. IN A PUBLIC STREET.

Page 473

The Sheriff and the “Bad Men.’ By T. R. Porter. An amusing story of the pioneer days out West. The Sheriff of Deadwood “ wanted " three desperadoes, who took refuge in an old mine and defied him to do his worst. He did it—in a most extraordinary and unlooked-for fashion, with the result that the ‘bad men” were ignominiously routed. really “ wild ” in every sense of the word the resourceful man forged to the front and stayed there, and only the man of many devices was able to become a force in the strong and strenuous life of those frontier days. While the six-shooter was the accepted instrument with which differences were settled, the chief actors in these little affairs sometimes resorted to Winchester rifles, bowie-knives, or shot guns, and at times some very queer weapons were called into use when it was impossible to use the old favourites. In its palmy days Deadwood, in the Black Hills of South Dakota, was known all over the States as the “toughest town on earth,” and well it deserved its name. It was the boast of the town that every morning before break- fast. some man “ died with his boots on”—and after breakfast still others bit the dust. Just about every in- strument with which a man could be killed had seen service in this famous fron- tier town, when one day a practically new arrival showed the old-timers a trick with a new weapon that is remembered in Deadwood to this day, and whenever some of the early citizens get together and commence talking about the early days in Dead- wood, somebody is sure to spring the story of Seth Bullock and his Chinese stink-pot. Bullock himself still lives — in Deadwood —in fact, he is United States Marshal for South Dakota, and the best - known man in the Black Hills—but his unique manner of capturing a band of “toughs” without bloodshed has been the admiration of many people for a quarter of a century. Deadwood grew from a single miner’s cabin WAS MARSHAL MR, SETH BULLOCK, WHO AT THE TIME OF THIS STORY OF DEADWOOD — HE IS NOW UNITED STATES MAKSHAL OF SOUTH DAKOTA. From a Photo. to a town of five thousand people in just three days. It was all because of the great “strike” of placer gold made down in Deadwood gulch, and when the news spread there was the biggest rush ever known in the American goldfields. Other towns were depopulated in an hour—and Deadwood grew like a mushroom. Its new citizens were not choice. No one inquired where a man came from, and to ask his name was almost an insult which demanded bloodshed, A great many of the miners had come west for the good of their health and wanted no questions asked. Sufficient to say they were the toughs of the earth—at least, most of them were. Deadwood was a_ vast gambling den in those days —although not a_ single roulette wheel turns now. Dance-halls, saloons, and gambling dens constituted three-fourths of the houses. And among the tougher element were men who gloried in the reputation of being “killers ”—and had a number of deaths to their credit. In time lawlessness be- came so general that some of the better-class residents determined to rid Dead- wood of its very toughest citizens, and a_ vigilance committee was formed. It was then decided that Dead- wood must have a sheriff. A sheriff, in those days, meant a man who could draw his gun quicker and shoot straighter than any- one else in the camp. It also meant a man of nerve, who knew when to draw and when not to — one who could read in the eyes of his opponent the psychological moment when the other man decided to reach for his gun. Just at that time Captain Seth Bullock came to Deadwood. He came from over in Montana, and he brought with him the reputation of

Page 474

THE SHERIFF AND THE always attending to his own business and per- mitting no one else to attend to it for him. Bullock was known as a man of peace who would fight like a tiger-cat whenever he had to fight at all. And Bullock was made marshal of Deadwood—the first peace officer that city ever boasted of. ‘There were several gun-fights before the “bad” element began to realize that when Bullock said, ‘Come on, I want you,” it was safer to go than to argue the matter. Bullock got shot two or three times in these fights, but they were not bad wounds. On the other hand, each of his opponents was buried up in the cemetery on the side of the hill. It happened that in the camp there were three cronies bearing the nicknames of “ Bad Bill,” “Curly” Desmond, and “Scar Face” Wilson. They were the “baddest” of the “bad” men, and they gloried in their badness. They were partners in everything, and if a man fought one of them he had to fight the entire trio. Other rival ‘‘bad” men might wipe each other out of existence in their jealousies, but these three terrors never by any chance fought among themselves. Finally, there came a time when Sheriff Bullock “wanted” “Bad Bill” and his two companions. They had had a row with a “tenderfoot” whom they were cheating at cards, and, contrary to the rules of the camp, had killed him with- out giving him the ghost of a chance. The Easterner did not even know there was going to bea row until he looked down a gun-barrel for one brief moment before a bullet ended his career, A “killing” in Deadwood was rather the usual than the unusual ; yet the slay- ing of an inoffensive “tenderfoot” who simply protested when he discovered that he was being robbed was more than the people would stand, and Vol. xviii. 59. “BAD MEN.” 465 there was a general demand that “ Bad Bill” and his cronies should be lynched. But Bullock counselled moderation. “I am_ the sheriff, boys,” he said. “T’ll have to protect those fellows if any attempt at lynching them is made. But I'll arrest them and you can try them in the regular way.” Bullock’s quiet manner won the day, and it was agreed that the law should take its ordinary course with the murderers. But Bill and his two “ pals” had no idea of submitting to arrest. ‘“ Tell Cap. Bullock, if he wants us, to come and git us,” they said, defiantly—and the word was carried over to Bullock. : “We don’t ‘low no blamed ‘tenderfoot’ to tell us we cheat,” the three rascals added. ‘‘ And we don’t ‘low no sheriff to arrest us. We won't be arrested, and if Cap. Bullock fools with us we'll fix him.” Again the word was taken over to Bullock that Bill and his partners said they would fight to the death before they would submit to arrest. Nevertheless, it was “up” to Bullock to arrest those three men or to lose his reputation for courage, and practically his life. If he showed the white feather for a moment some desperado “HE LOOKED DOWN A GUN-BARREL FOR ONE BRIEF MOMENT BEFORE A BULLET ENDED HIS CAREER,”

Page 475

466 THE WIDE WORLD would shoot him while his back was turned. It was only as an undefeated marshal that he had power over these roughs. The murderers knew Bullock would make an attempt to capture them, but they did not know from which quarter the attempt would come. The marshal had so many different ways of tackling a fellow that the three miners were worried. If it was a straight shooting affray, they were ready; but they feared something— they knew not what—when Bullock started after them. Bullock went about his business very deliber- ately. He sent word to the three desperadoes that they had better come in, surrender them- selves, and stand trial—thereby saving themselves the trouble of having him come after them. But again the trio hurled defiance at the marshal, and, retreating to their log cabin, barricaded the door and yelled through the window that they were ready for a siege. But Bullock paid no attention to them. He sat in his little office and smoked. Some miners, new comers, sniffed, and declared that Bullock was a coward and was afraid to go after the men he wanted. But the old-timers, men who had known the captain long, knew better; and they also “DURING THE NIGUT THEY EVACUATED THEIR LOG CANIN.” MAGAZINE. knew that “Cap. Seth” was working out some scheme. The marshal's very quietness had a disturbing effect on the “wanted” men, and during the night they evacuated their log cabin and took refuge in an abandoned prospect hole where they thought Bullock would not find them. “We was afraid he would dynamite us during the night,” they told an acquaintance later. They took provisions into the hole with them, and there was a little stream of water at the bottom, so that they were ready for a dis- appearance of several days, or even a week, if necessary. The “hole” consisted of a shaft some fifteen feet deep and a tunnel running into the hill from the bottom of the shaft. ‘The tunnel was about twenty-five feet long, and because of an elbow it was quite impossible for anyone to come down the shaft and into the tunnel without being exposed every moment of the time to the bullets of the desperadoes. The three men were observed stealing away from their cabin into the old mine, and Bullock was informed as to their whereabouts. ‘Then he quietly came out of his little office, walked down to the shaft, made a minute examination of it, and returned to his office. Before doing so, however, he pulled up the old ladder which the original prospec- tors had left in the hole. ‘ Bad Bill” and_ his partners were thus left without means of escape unless some friend let the ladder down again. Like so many of the Western mining towns at that period, Deadwood had a considerable Chinese popula- tion, most of whom had come direct from the Celestial _ king- dom. These Chinamen had brought with them their own peculiar games, musical instru-

Page 476

THE SHERIFF AND THE “BAD MEN.” 467 ments, and implements of peace and war. Among the latter were a number of stink-pots. Te is impossible for a white man to adequately describe a Chinese stink-pot. It is, to say the very least, deserving of its rather suggestive name, but no one has ever been able to figure ~ out just what it does or does not contain. When a people who consider an egg in which the bird is just beginning to hatch a choice delicacy, or who will pay large sums for an egg which has been kept in a putrid black mud for several years to properly “season,” starts to make some- thing which will smell bad even to their own olfactory nerves, they can evolve a thing of which a white man cannot have even a faint conception. And that, in short, is a Chinese stink-pot. The next morning when Bullock came from his room he found that a general hotiday had been declared ; every mine had closed down and every miner was in the streets, watching to see what “Cap. Seth” was going to do. The captain walked down to old Ah Say’s opium den and started a little talk with that wily old Chinese gambler. Ah Say was leader and owner of the Chinese colony, and his word was law in all the “joints.” Bullock told the old rascal what he wanted, and soon several of the younger Chinamen were scouring the underground passages of the neighbourhood on errands for Ah Say. When Bullock came out of Ah Say’s place he had half- a-dozen stink-pots which had been brought from China and were in first- class working order. The pots were wrapped singly in pieces of paper, and the waiting crowds had no idea what Bullock was doing in Chinatown. The marshal sauntered leisurely down to the de- serted mine, and half the town followed him at a re- spectable distance. Bullets might fly at any minute, and the miners wanted to be ready to get to cover without loss of time. “IN AMOUT MALP_A MINUTE OUT THEY Cay Bullock didn’t say a word when he reached the mouth of the shaft, but he produced one of the stink-pots, carefully unwrapped it, and threw it to the bottom of the hole, where it broke on the rocks, its awful-smelling contents being scattered over the floor of the hole. Another pot quickly followed the first, and added its odour to the already horrible stench down there. But the gas, being heavier than the air, remained in the hole. Then the crowd saw what Bullock was up to, and they raised a mighty cheer when they realized the predicament of “Bad Bill” and his partners. Bullock knew that Bill and his men were guarding that portion of the hole which could be seen from their tunnel, so he kept out of range of their pistols. Edging around as far as he dared, he threw another one of the pots. The aim was good, and it went right into the oO

Page 477

468 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. mouth of the tunnel. Another followed the first, and both broke as they struck the rocky sides. In about half a minute out they came—‘“ Bad Bill,” “Curly,” and “Scar Face,” simply falling over themselves and each other in their efforts to get out of that tunnel and into the pure air. Bullock and his guns were forgotten in the indescribable stench emanat- ing from those awful stink- pots. But there was no relief. The air in the shaft was as bad as that in the tunnel. And the ladder was missing ! While the gasping, splut- tering wretches were cursing and shouting for someone to let the ladder down, another stink-pot came sail- ing over the rim of the hole and landed fairly in their midst, where it broke and added fresh horrors to the already sufficiently polluted at- mosphere. Then the trio knew what it meant—Bullock was after them and had routed them out of their hole. They couldn’t get out of the shaft, but the stench was so great that they couldn’t stay in it, either. Accordingly they sur- rendered —_uncondition- ally, and, following the directions of the marshal, who remained out of sight behind the brink of the shaft, tossed their weapons out through the mouth of the shaft and begged to be permitted to get out themselves as quickly as possible. “One at a time there, boys,” called Bullock. “Tf any man comes out of that hole before I tell him to T’ll shoot his head off as it appears over the rim.” And Bullock lowered the ladder. “* Bad Bill’ first,” he called, and “ Bad Bill,” with his fingers to his nose, rushed up the ladder and was quickly tied. “Now ‘Scar Face,’” and that worthy ran up the ladder, to be bound in his turn. “ Curly ” met the same fate when he came up a moment afterwards. “Next time I send for you fellows,” said “CBAD BILL,’ WITH HIS FINGERS TO HIS NOSK, RUSHED UP THE LADDER.” Bullock, quietly, “I hope you'll come in and give yourselves up and save me the trouble of coming after you.” 3ullock's arrest of the three most desperate men in the Black Hills without shedding a drop of blood was so much admired by the miners that he had little trouble after that, and remained marshal as long as he wanted the position. Karly in 1906 President Roosevelt appointed Bullock United States Marshal for South Dakota, a post he still holds.

Page 478

The Vanished Islands. A MYSTERY OF THE OCEAN. By W. bE Vismes Kang, J.P., D.L.* The old-time charts of the Southern Atlantic showed, some five hundred miles east of Cape Horn, a group of islands known as the Auroras, which had been reported by numerous vessels, including a Spanish Government surveying ship. The British Admiralty, however, after searching for the group in vain, declared that they had no existence and erased them from its maps. Below will be found the strange story of a well-known Liverpool navigator, Captain D. H. Hatfield, who declares that he and the crew of the barque “Gladys” saw these ‘non-existent”’ islands in 1892. The captain's narrative gives rise to a most interesting problem. HERE are but few regions of the land surface of the globe which have not been pretty thoroughly explored, and those geographical details which are still lacking are being added little by little by adventurous travellers. The science of hydrography, however—the mapping of the oceans—presents far greater obstacles than geography, for it deals not only with the surface, but with the concealed depths and currents of the seas ; and these are very difficult to locate, there being no stable marks in many cases by which a ship traversing the trackless waste of waters can fix with precision the position of any newly discovered reef or island. All that can be done when a passing vessel detects some unrecorded rock or shoal is to note in the log- book, as nearly as may be, the apparent position of the ship at the time; though if she has encountered a storm, or been driven out of her course by currents during a calm or by being entangled in drifting ice, the reckoning is apt to be unreliable. So it happens that on the Admiralty charts one may occasionally find two or three doubtful indications with a note appended : “ Reported position of reef.” Such approximate positions have been thus marked down provisionally from time to time on the reports of passing ships, until the exact locality of the danger shall have been scien- tifically ascertained. Little, however, as the charts of the present day leave to be desired as to accuracy, the fol- lowing narrative, taken down as nearly verbatim as possible from the lips of a sea-captain who vouches absolutely for its truth, shows that there are many most interesting hydrographic problems still to be solved. In this case the problem concerns the position, or rather the * Mr, Kane writes : “I guarantee that the contents of the article are true and accurate, ay T have been alle to ascertain, in every particular. [took down the particulars as to his sighting’ the Auroras, etc., from Captain Hattickl’s own lips” existence, of a group of islands known as the Auroras, and situated, according to the old navigators, in the Southern Atlantic Ocean. For anyone who may desire to inquire more exactly into the technical side of the narrative, it may be mentioned that details will be found recorded in the Liverpool Journal of Commerce for the year 1892. Formerly the old charts of the Southern Atlantic were marked with certain islands called the Auroras, lying somewhere about five hundred miles east of the dreaded Cape Horn, and a description of their appearance, as given by those who had sighted them, was set down in the handbooks and sailing directions for the South Atlantic under the heading, “ Doubtful Islands and Shoals.” The following is a summary of the earliest reports concerning the mysterious isles. In 1762 the ship Aurora, returning from Lima, passed two islands thirty-five leagues to the eastward of the Malvinas (Falklands). ‘‘ They bore north-east and south-west of each other, distant from two and a half to three leagues. The easternmost one was the smaller of the two, and a reef extended between them, but with a clear passage, through which the Aurora sailed. ‘The westernmost one was from five to six miles in extent from south to north. Their sides were inaccessible, and no bay could be seen.” In 1774 the Aurora again reported having met with two islands in those latitudes. Five years later islands were seen, but no position determined, by the Fear/. In -1790 the Dolores reported similarly, and in the same year the captain of the Princess, of the Royal Philippine Company, stated that he had sighted the islands and ascertained that east-south-east of them, about eleven miles distant, was a bank or shoal. In conse- quence of these reports the Spanish corvette Atrevida was dispatched in January, 1794,

Page 479

470 THE WIDE WORLD to the locality to fix the position of these uncharted islands, whose position was uncertain to the extent of twelve or fifteen minutes of latitude and seven degrees of longi- tude. Sailing from the Falklands on the rith, at daybreak on the 16th two large pyramidal banks of snow or ice were sighted, but fog and bad weather prevented nearer approach. On the 21st, however, the ship sailed up to and coasted along what was described as ‘a great mountain, in form of a tent, divided into two parts, the eastern extremity white and the western very dark, but covered with a snowy band. Sailing along the western side within a mile it presented the appearance of a sharp rock trending north and south. ‘he southern part being exposed to freezing winds is at that time of the year covered with snow ; but the winds on the north-west point being more temperate and moist, the land is visible.” The vessel stood off the land for the night, and next morning another island was seen, Their position was set down respectively as latitude fifty-three degrees fifteen minutes twenty-two seconds south, longitude forty-seven degrees fifty-seven minutes fifteen seconds west, and latitude fifty-three degrees two minutes twenty seconds south, longitude forty-seven degrees fifty-five minutes fifteen seconds west. On the 27th a third island was sighted, which need not be referred to. The discrepancies in the various accounts are very great, without taking into account the variations in the presumed positions, which MAGAZINE. in longitude amounts to one degree eleven minutes—which in those regions is equivalent to forty-two miles. One suggestion is that the two peaked islands seen by the Afevda must have been the Shag Rocks, which lie almost in the same latitude, but with a difference of six degrees of longitude—too large an error to be considered, if it were not that such errors have often occurred from assuming different meridians. In order to verify these accounts and ascer- tain the exact position of the Auroras in the interests of navigation, Captain Weddell, in 1820, made a careful search, and for five or six days sailed to and fro in the region in which they were supposed to lie, but in vain—not a trace of the islands could be discovered ; and although in 1856 the He/en Barrd reported that in latitude fifty-two degrees forty minutes south, longitude forty-eight degrees twenty-two minutes west, a large and small island were seen about eighteen miles away, and subsequently two others to the northward, the authorities have definitely concluded that there is not sufficient satisfactory evidence for retaining the name cf the Aurora Islands on the charts of the South Atlantic. The illustration next reproduced shows a portion of a chart, dated 1880, bearing the last reference to them before their official erasure. The Admiralty note reads: ‘Aurora Islands, from Spanish charts (Have no_ existence).” Captain Weddell suggested that ice drifting from b s00ale a Digitize

Page 480

THE VANISHED ISLANDS. 47 PORTION OF A CHART, DATED 1880, FARING THE LAST OFFICIAL REFERENCE TO THE AURORA ISLANDS, the southward may have packed about the base of the Shag Rocks, leaving only their peaks showing above the snow and ice on the south side, and so altering their appearance that they could not be recognised and identified. Another theory is that an extensive bank of irregular soundings exists at a point where a large kelp- bed has been more than once reported, and that im- mense icebergs, grounding here, have been mistaken for land. These bergs, it should be explained, are frequently loaded with blocks of stone, gravel, sand, and mud, and have at times been taken for islands by the most practised Arctic and Antarctic voyagers, who have not been convinced of their true cha- racter until they had ap- proached very close, or have actually landed on them. If this hypothesis is true it would account for the dis- crepancies noticeable in the description of the shape, size, and even the number of the Aurora Islands. On the other hand, Captain D. H. Hatfield, of Liverpool, points out that CAPTAIN D. H. HATFIELD, WHO SFEN THE AUKORA IS From a Photo. by Starfield s at the season of the year when Captain Weddell’s ship reached these latitudes the real islands would have béen covered with ice and snow, and so, if sighted, would have been taken for icebergs by the latter, as bergs are frequently met in these seas at that time of the year, and sometimes very much later, as will appear in due course. Captain Hat- field’s own account of his glimpse of the Aurora Islands — officially declared to have no existence—is so explicit and detailed that it raises the whole question anew. But let me tell his strange story as he told it to me. Tt was during the last days of May, 1892, that the Bristol barque G/adys, owned by Messrs. Shaw, Savill, and Co., of London, and com- manded by Captain D. H. Hatfield, left Iquique, on the west coast of South America, homeward bound. A little earlier there had preceded her a large four- masted sailing-ship of the Watson line, of Glasgow, us To HAVE bound from San Francisco to uddior. Hamburg. This vessel never

Page 481

472 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. reached her destination, but was last sighted after she had rounded Cape Horn some time previous to the arrival of the G/adys in those waters. After passing Cape Horn the Gladys stood on an easterly course, hoping to pick up the south-east trade wind. She had reached the neighbourhood of the supposed position of the Aurora Islands when, at daylight on Sunday morning, the 26th June, land was reported ahead by the chief officer. On going on deck Captain Hatfield saw plainly enough what appeared to be a bold headland about twelve miles away, somewhat resembling Cape Clear in shape, but perhaps higher. The ship’s head was promptly brought as far north as the wind would allow, which enabled her to give this un- expected land a sufficiently wide berth. When first seen there appeared to be a single long island, perhaps twenty miles in length, but on nearer approach it was perceived that there were two islands, separated by a sound some two or three miles wide, and bearing north-west and south-east. Both islands seemed nearly of the same height and appeared of a grey sandy tint, and barren, resembling the coast of Chile ; but the more northerly island had a hump on its north-west end and another about the middle, with a growth of low trees or bushes on the high, flat top. The northern end of the bluff was steep and overhung considerably. No beach was visible ; the sea beat right at the foot of the cliffs. The more southerly island pointed from south-south-east to north-north-west, and seemed to be about three times as long as it was broad, but was, of course, farther away from the ship. The Auroras having been erased from the Admiralty charts of that date, the ship had come nearer to their supposed position than would otherwise have been the case, and the course the G/adys was steering brought her about three nautical miles off the north-west end of the northern island, where she passed close to a great bed of kelp which stretched from three to five miles from the shore. This kelp was of immense size, the fronds floating on the surface of the water being fully fifty feet in length and like palm leaves; their roots were probably anchored to the rocky bottom some fifteen fathoms below. This very kelp-bed, as I have mentioned, was referred to in the old Atlantic handbooks. At the time the Gladys passed them the islands were quite free from snow or ice, and the weather was perfectly clear. Some three days or so later the ship, which was then on a northerly course, fell in with a strong breeze on the port side, north and west, and met with a great fleet of icebergs reaching some five hundred miles to the north. They were of every size, from low masses almost awash to towering bergs of immense height and extent. The vessel was five days and five nights picking her way with the utmost caution through the drifting monsters. “THE SHIF MET WITH A GREAT FLEET OF ICEBERGS.”

Page 482

THE VANISHED ISLANDS. 473 Fortunately she was well manned and could be easily handled, for although every precaution was taken and she was hove-to each night with topsails to the mast, drifting loose with the ice, yet one night she was in great danger. While lying between two immense bergs about five miles apart, with her head towards the weathermost one, it became evident after some hours that the berg to windward was drifting more rapidly than the ship, probably drawn by a deep ocean current taking effect on the submerged part of the ice, which is generally said to be twice as deep as the height of the floating portion. Drifting steadily onward, it approached dangerously close to the ship, but all hands tumbled up and made sail on the barque till she gained the weather side of the berg, when the G/adys was allowed to drift in its wake till daylight. Some of these enormous ice-masses stood from five hundred to a thousand feet above the surface of the water, and were from three to ten miles long. On the fifth day the G/adys met with a line of huge bergs extending in a north-east to west- sides of this, and to their horror Captain Hatfield and his men saw, on the lower terrace, the bodies of five men lying in different positions. It was evident that they had been keeping a regular look-out, for a beaten track was plainly discernible along the sloping face of the upper terrace, while on the south side, in the ice-wall which connected the higher and lower terraces, was an ice-cave with a tarpaulin stretched across its mouth where the poor fellows had taken refuge. One body lay outside of this, while the other four lay exposed on the terrace. The castaways must have reached this portion of the berg by climbing up from the south-east side, which sloped gently upwards from the water. About fifteen miles to southward of this berg a boat was observed lying on a half-submerged cake of ice about half an acre in area. The vessel passed within fifty yards of it, but no name could be read, for something had apparently fallen on the boat from above and crushed it ; it lay burst open lengthwise, so that only the inside of the sheathing was visible. It south-west direction, whose northern ends made them look just like a column of battleships, with passages between each, as far as the eye could reach. One of these vast ice-masses, about ten miles long, showed two flat levels at different heights, the upper one rising about three hundred feet sheer from the water. The ship passed- close by the west and north-west Vol. xviii—60. ‘“THE OTHER FOUR LAY EXPOSED ON THE TERRACE.” seems very probable that the bodies noticed on the berg may have been some of the crew of the missing sailing-ship previously referred to, and the boat may have belonged to it likewise. In these far-off, perilous seas there is little hope that survivors of a disaster would have a chance of rescue, or that any explanation of the mystery will ever be forthcoming.

Page 483

474 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. But to return to the mysterious Auroras. In addition to his personal experience Captain Hatfield mentions a further corroboration of the existence of the group. Several years after the voyage described he was in New York, and “CAPTAIN ‘NED' AT ONCE SAID HE WAS ADSOLUTELY CERTAIN OF THEIR EXISTENCE, ina shipbroker’s office in South Street met with a New Bedford whaler who was a “Sound” pilot at that time—a man of great experience in the Southern Seas, who went by the name of “Ned.” In conversation with this mariner Captain Hatfield made reference to the question of the existence of the Auroras. Captain “ Ned” at once said he was absolutely certain of their existence and identity, for he had actually landed on them several tin he knew a watering- place on the south-east end of the northern- most island, and a good anchorage on the same side, just through the passage between them. He had often sailed right round both islands, he said, and frequently used to take shelter in the strait between them. He also mentioned the great kelp-bed at the north- west extremity of the northern island, and said that the foliage noticed on the top of the latter was a stunted growth of some shrub. For many years he “had sailed in those latitudes as a fur- sealer and whaler, and it was in the course of these voyages that he had visited the Auroras. In face of the testimony of the many old-time navigators, somewhat conflicting though it is, and the evidence of these two modern seamen, what is one to think? Do the Aurora Islands actually exist, in spite of Weddell’s report, or are they but figments of the sailor’s imagination, born, perchance, of long and anxious vigils in the treacherous, berg-bestudded waters of the lonely Southern Ocean ?

Page 484

On the Frontier in Central Africa. By Brevet-Majyor R. G. T. Bricut, C.M.G. An interesting description of the author’s experiences during three and a half years’ boundary work in Central Africa, during which he traversed remote regions and visited many little-known tribes. amg)! three and a half years’ travel in i} more or less unknown parts of Africa do not fit a man to tell a story to the stay-at-home reader, no amount of globe-trotting will, ‘That great continent is still full of interest to lovers of adventure, and must perforce remain so until that period—not, perhaps, very remote—when telegraphs, electric traction, and motor-cars penetrate to its most distant corners. Since last I wrote on Africa for THE Wipr Worip Macazine I have been again em- ployed in Govern- ment service, helping to delimit the boun- daries of Great Britain and Germany, a work which has led to prolonged travel and residence in re- mote districts and among hitherto little- known tribes; and while I do not intend to inflict upon my readers a detailed account of the varied experiences of the Commission during its prolonged ab- sence, I have no hesi- tation in complying with the Editor’s re- quest to narrate some of the incidents of our lengthy journeyings. ‘The contrast be- tween civilization and barbarism becomes increasingly great as the Pax Britannica extends its sway over From a) I A KAVIRONDO WARRIOR IN FULL WAR-PAINT. Major Bright illustrates his articles with some striking photographs. what was known but a little while ago as Darkest Africa, a fact which is brought home to us by the first three photographs reproduced, which are actual scenes on a British railway station, not Euston or Charing Cross, it istrue, but the terminus of the Uganda Railway, the six-hundred-mile- long line stretching from Mombasa on the East African Coast to the shore of that great inland sea, the Victoria Nyanza. As one proceeds by the up express from Mombasa the comparative civilization of the coast-line is abruptly left behind and the native is seen in the gor- geous trappings of barbarism. ‘The first photograph shows the veranda of the Dak Bungalow, or refresh- ment room, which forms part of the rail- way station at Port Florence, while the weird - looking — indi- vidual in front, who willingly consented to be immortalized in an English magazine, is a Kavirondo war- rior in full war-paint, and carrying his twelve-foot spear. His head-gear is a fear- some construction composed of feathers, while in addition to his spear—which is made long to keep assailantsata distance —he carries as_pro- tection a tough hide shield large enough to completely cover him se kneeling down. APhoto.

Page 485

-~ 2 From a) GourDs. The above picture is a photograph (taken from the Dak Bungalow) depicting a group of Kavirondo musicians—save the mark !—per- forming for the amusement of the visitors on strange-shaped instruments constructed out of horns and gourds. ‘Their execution is perhaps more curious than musical, but they are in deadly earnest about it, as the picture plainly shows. Natives are fond of display, as can be seen from the annexed illustration of a Kavirondo funeral party, which passed the railway station while I was there. Behind the corpse, which was borne on a brush-wood bier, marched a A KAVIRONDO BAND PERFORMING ON STRANGE INSTRUMENTS CONSTRUCTED OUT OF HOKNS AND A STUDY IN NATIVE FASIIIONS—SOME OF THE MOURNERS WHO ATTENDED A KAVIRONDO FUNERAL, WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. number of bullocks, the motley crowd of mourners shown in the picture bring- ing up the rear. At Kisumu, where the Uganda Railway reaches the Victoria Nyanza, and where these curious groups were photographed, the trains are met by well- appointed steamers, which carry passengers and cargo toall the ports on the lake, both British and German. It is a pleasure to travel in these steamers, and it gives one quite a shock to find that they have com- fortable cabins, saloons, electric light, and, practi- cally, all the latest im- provements. The trade of this portion of Central Africa radiates round the shores of the lake, and is collected by these vessels and carried to the railway, by which it is transported to the coast. When one realizes that one hour’s travel in the train is about equal to a day’s march with a caravan of porters, with- out taking into account the difficulty of feeding the men, it is not difficult to see the enormous impetus given by railroad construction to the development of the trade of this part of the interior of Africa. The Uganda Protectorate, which includes not only the Kingdom of Uganda, but also several other large countries, extends to the northward as far as the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan, and to the aad (Photo. ~ From a Photo.

Page 486

ON THE FRONTIER IN From a\ A NATIVE ROAD ACROSS A SWAMP. west to the Congo Free State, while it - is bounded on the south by German East Africa, and on the remaining side by British East Africa. Even before the advent of the white man the natives of these regions had a civiliza- tion of their own; and it is very curious to compare their regular system of government with the condition of the tribes by whom they were surrounded on all sides, and who had little or no administrative system. Perhaps their most striking public works are the native roads, which are, as a rule, excellently laid out and well kept. The above photograph shows a highway which crosses a large swamp in the low country near the Victoria Nyanza. This road—some people would call it a bridge—is constructed on the “corduroy” system, by throwing logs of wood into the water and mud of the swamp till a foundation is formed, on top of which the road is built. ‘The traveller is thus enabled to walk dry-shod over deep and evil-smelling swamps, to cross which he would otherwise have to wade waist-deep through horrible mud and slime. One of the natural southern boundaries of the Uganda Protectorate, where we spent much time, is the River Kagera. Rising near Lake ‘Tanganyika, it flows for some hundreds of miles until it pours into the Victoria Nyanza, forming there a fine broad river. It swarms with hippopotami and crocediles, and has an evil reputation among the natives, who say that no man falling into the stream ever comes out alive. It is navigable by canoes for some CENTRAL AFRICA. 477 distance from its mouth, but this method of tra- velling is far from ~plea- sant, owing to the hippo- potami, which in confined waters will not hesitate to attack passing craft— more, perhaps, from fear than ferocity. Moreover, as the stream is very rapid, and alive in many parts .with crocodiles, an upset is an experience not easily forgotten. Owing to the large number of recent accidents through canoes being attacked by hippopotami, the latter are now being extermi- nated in the stretches where there is much canoe traffic. It was on this river that Mr. C. Doggett, the natu- talist of the expedition, unfortunately lost his life while fishing. It appears that he constructed a raft, and, accom- panied by a couple of Swahilis, attempted to anchor it in the middle of the river. What actually hap- pened will never be known, as he was never seen again, and although a search was made for his body it was not recovered. The raft, however, was found, and on it Mr. Doggett’s fishing - tackle. It can only be sur- mised that either while poling the raft or attempting to anchor it he must have slipped off and been drowned. He was a keen naturalist, and very popular with the officers of the expedition. His sad and mys- terious death was much felt, and—a [Photo. M2. DOGGETT, THE NATURALIST OF THE EXPEDITION, WHO UNFORTU- NATELY LOST HiS LIFE WHILE FISHING. From a Photo.

Page 487

478 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. small monument was erected to his memory near the river. While paddling up a river one of the officers’ canoes was attacked by a hippopotamus, and the occupants had rather an exciting experience. Twice the mischievous brute seized the bottom of the canoe in its powerful jaws, tearing great pieces out of it, through which the water poured in an alarming fashion. The occupants grabbed for their rifles, but the great beast kept well underneath the canoe, and so could not be seen by those seated in it. Nothing could be done, therefore, but try to paddle away as fast as possible to the shore. ‘I'he paddlers, however, were thoroughly alarmed, and for a few moments lost their heads and could not be persuaded to along a native path. These mail-bags did not weigh more than twenty or thirty pounds, and being so light and convenient for carrying were brought along by the runners with surprising rapidity. Generally speaking, we had no trouble with the natives through whose territory we had to pass. In one portion of Western Uganda, how- ever, we found to our cost that the tribes were utterly unreliable and dangerous, for here a party of our men were massacred. The details of their murder we never heard. We only knew of the sad fact that a working party of porters, who were dispatched some distance from camp to cut timber, became separated from the soldiers, that they were attacked by hostile LETTERS FROM HOMB—OPENING THE EAGERLY-EXPECTED MAIL-bAG, froma Photo. do anything. The canoe was eventually beached just in time, for the water which was rushing in through the gaping holes would soon have sunk her, when the occupants would have been at the mercy of the hippopotamus. The mails for the members of the expedition were made up at Mombasa, and after reaching Entebbe—by way of the Uganda Railway and by steamer across the Victoria Nyanza—were. dispatched by native runners to the expedition. This arrangement was very satisfactory, and the letters arrived nearly every week. ‘The photo. on this page illustrates the eagerly-expected mail- bag being opened by a member of the expe- dition, who had met the runners while travelling natives, and that their remains were found, the unfortunate fellows having been speared to death. The people who live on the east side of the lake are great fishermen, both with rod and net. Numbers of them can be seen in the small bays sitting stark naked—with the exception of a string of beads tied round their waists, and worn more as an ornament than anything else—on small rafts, contentedly fishing with a rod. By the side of the fishérman is his basket, while a second rod is fixed at the corner of his raft, which is a crazy construction a few square feet in area, made of lengths of light wood, riveted together by wooden pegs. ‘The native canoes

Page 488

ON r ss from a) METING T cRoCOD of these parts are made in much the same primitive way, and although they leak like the proverbial sieve and need constant baling, they do not sink or capsize, which is a dis- tinct advantage in waters so infested with crocodiles. One would think that a native sitting motion- less on his raft, as seen in the above picture, with his well-greased body glistening in the sun and emitting a rich odour of rancid fat, would be a tempting and irresistible bait to the watching crocodiles. One swish of the tail and the hap- less fisherman would be swept into the water, to be caught in the monster's power- ful jaws and dragged underneath, leaving only a few bubbles on the surface and a streak of blood as evi- dence of the tragedy. But it does not hap- pen ; the natives know the class of crocodiles they have to deal with, and while in one place they will treat them with the utmost con- tempt and __fearless- ness ; in another part, where they know them to be dangerous, they keep away from the THE FRONTIER IN CENTRAL AFRICA. 479 cm 2 1 water as much as possible and carefully fence in the places where they draw water, and where their flocks and herds are taken to drink, for they know that it is at such spots that the crocodiles lie in wait for an opportunity to seize their prey. The next photograph is an interesting one, and shows these fisher - folk drawing a seine among the islands of the Victoria Nyanza. ‘These seines are made, not out of netting, as in England, but by joining together stems of papyrus and so forming a long, narrow strip of matting, which fully answers the purpose of a net. This matting is taken out in canoes and quietly slipped into the water, and then gradually drawn (in the form of a semicircle) towards a number of wicker baskets fastened to poles in the water. ‘The fish are then caught either in the net or in baskets, and killed by a blow on the head with aclub. After the natives havé taken sufficient for their own use, the remainder are split open, cleaned, and dried in the sun, either for future consumption or to be traded to other tribes. The canoe in the foreground of the photo- T MADE OF PAPYRUS MATTING. Froma Photo. 7 1

Page 489

480 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. graph is not of the rough kind previously described, but is one of the excellent little craft made in Uganda, where they are built on to a solid stem of wood, each rib being carefully shaped and sewn with fibre through hundreds of small holes to the next piece. The canoe men, who always sing while at work, can paddle about forty miles a day, with an occasional rest. Violent storms often break over the lake, and if canoes are caught in them they must run with the waves and not against them, as there would be too much risk of the frail back- bone or stem of the canoe being broken and the whole fabric fall- ing to pieces. The two islands seen in the picture are floating masses of papyrus, broken adrift from the shore and blown about by the wind. While on the shores of Victoria Nyanza we spent a very interesting time amongst the dense native population, who were very friendly to us. In many places they lived at almost inacces- sible heights, their villages being con- structed among rocky hills. The accompanying photograph de- picts the entrance to one of these hidden _ villages, entirely built up = “eal of stones. Inside we found a large cave, where the natives drove their flocks for safety if they expected a raid from their warlike neighbours, the Masai, who inhabit the country to the east. On the top of the large boulders, as a further protection, were heaps of stones, placed ready to be hurled down on to the heads of unwelcome visitors. While on the subject of this region I must just refer to one very curious custom in these parts. Quails are plentiful, and after being snared in the grass by the natives they are kept THE ENTRANCE TO A HIDDEN VILLAGE. (hete. in small wicker cages strung on a long pole stuck in the ground. When a sufficient number of quails have been collected they can be exchanged with a neighbour—for all the world like coupons—for wives. Exactly what is the connection between matrimony and quails I am unable to say. Soon after starting we had to cross a large river which was in flood, it being the rainy season. This operation is, at the best of times, not an easy one. First a strong rope was stretched from bank to bank, and then, by means of a small Berthon boat and a very rotten dug-out canoe, which had to be most care- fully loaded and was always on the point of up- setting, we ferried our porters and belongings across. Although the river was in flood and the current swift, a tame young baboon, the pet of one of the German officers, sprang in and swam across. We much feared she would be drowned, for she disap- peared beneath the water and was swept away. How- ever, she eventu- ally landed some distance farther down on the op- posite bank. “Eliza” was her name, and she was a source of much amusement and, it must be confessed, not a little annoyance at times to the members of the Commission. She used to march with the caravan, and, when tired, jump on to a porter and have a lift. Later on, as she became more civilized, she would mount herself on one of the mules—not always to the pleasure of its rider, as she sat behind the saddle and clung to him tenaciously. She was, un- fortunately, an inveterate thief, prowling round the camp at night.and annexing the men’s

Page 490

ON THE FRONTIER IN CENTRAL AFRICA. 481 suppers, a bad habit which led roy to her early decease. After leaving the low lands near the lake shores the country commences to rise, and a few months later the expedition was in the midst of a mountainous country nearly five thousand feet above the level of the lake. As can be seen from the accompanying illustration, the land was, in many parts, covered with thick thorn bush, and the caravan had to ascend steep hills. Usually game tracks were followed, if they were found to lead in the desired direction, although in the picture the ‘porters are walking along a broad though rough road, probably made by the cattle of some native village. Nearly all the transport work was done by porters, who proved more suitable and economical than animals would have been. The Swahili porter is usually a happy-go-lucky individual, enjoying the journey and looking forward with the utmost expectation to the good time he will have at the coast on his return. His wages are under a pound a month, but, as he is unable to spend much money while in the interior, his pockets are full of rupees when he reaches his home. ‘They do not last more than a few days, however, for he plunges into the most foolish extravagances, such as washing him- self in champagne and treating the ladies of his acquaintance to expensive jewellery. After his money is finished he will rest for awhile, living on the hospitality of his friends, and then go off on another journey. A porter’s work in a caravan seems, to our ideas, most arduous. His load weighs about sixty pounds, and in addition to this he often carries a rifle and ammunition. His impedimenta further includes his own belongings, consisting of a small tent, a mat, odds and ends of rubbish which he has picked up in the camps, a cooking-pot, and From a) ‘THE EXPEDITION ON THE MARCH IN HILLY COUNTRY. a bag containing his flour or rice for a few days. All these things are rolled together and fastened to his load. His blanket is wound neatly round his head, and on the top of this pad the load itself is balanced. A water-bottle is slung over one shoulder and a few gourds in any convenient spot. In one hand he carries a walking-stick, in the other he holds his rifle, with, perhaps, a live fowl or two hanging head downwards attached to the barrel. Add to this a jersey, pantaloons of white cloth, putties, a cartridge-belt and sandals of hide, and the picture is complete. Equipped in this manner a porter will easily march fifteen miles a day, and a much longer distance if necessary. His ration is only a pound and a half of rice or flour, although this is really not sufficient, unless largely supplemented by meat ; but porters will work far better on a larger daily ration of rice and flour, with meat only on rare occasions. (Zo be contenued.) Vol. xviii.—61,

Page 491

RUNNING THE BLOCKADE: A Story of the Siege of Port Arthur. By Ernest BRINDLE. The author heard this exciting narrative from the Russian journalist most concerned while acting as war correspondent of the London “ Daily Mail” at Chifu. upon the internecine intrigues which precipitated the fall of the great fortress. It throws a lurid light Mr. Brindle writes: ‘‘I have adhered strictly to fact in every detail.” HERE will be no issue of the paper after to-morrow, Primor- sky,” said Eugene Nojin, the editor of the Port Arthur Now Krai, to his assistant, passing him a big, official-looking envelope containing a short and curtly-worded letter. “Ts it from the General ?” queried Primor- sky, gazing anxiously at his chief. “Yes; read it. He’s got his knife into me simply because, being one of Smyrnoff’s party, I am doing what I can to bridge over the differ- ences between the army and navy,” answered Nojin, bitterly. Without replying to the remark, Primorsky unfolded the letter and scanned its contents. It read as follows :— To Eugene Nojin, Editor, Now? Ava?. Monsieur,—Owing to the publica- tion of important news, contrary to our instructions, relating to the movements and disposition of our forces in Port Arthur, which may be of use to the fap- anese if copics of the journal fall into their hands, you are forbidden on pain of death to publish the Voor Arar, or any other paper containing — printed news, from the day after you receive this command. (Signed) “That seems definite enough,” remarked Primorsky, dryly, hand- ing the letter back to Nojin. “What are you going to do about ite’ STOESSEL. “Do about it?” responded Nojin. “Why, there is only one BSH ALE, thing to do, and that is to a: obey.” A prolonged silence ensued between the two men. ‘The istant resumed the interrupted revision of a pile of proofs that lay near him on the table, and Nojin sank into a profound reverie, ‘The ceaseless rattle of the printing machine in another part of the building and the constant passage and re-passage of com- positors were unheard and unnoticed by him. He was thinking of the curious working of Fate which had decreed that the men upon whom MR. ERNEST BRINDLE, THE ‘DAILY MAIL” WAR CORRESPONDENT, wo @ PXTRAOKDINARY STORY OF © OF PORT ARTHUR, ron a Photo. chiefly rested the responsibility for the defence of Port Arthur should be divided into two parties, intriguing and working against each other, parted by suspicion and petty jealousies, instead of working whole-heartedly together in the face of an awful danger. It had commenced, this reign of mutual discord, at the time of the Battle of Nanshan, when the Japanese, landing from their ships on the narrow neck of the Liautung Peninsula, under a frightful storm of shot and shell from the Russian fortifications, had carried all before them and driven the Russian troops back into the great fortress. When it was known throughout the garrison that during that battle Port Arthur was left with but a few hundred troops to defend it, that many of its forts were completely emptied of men, and that, had the Japanese pressed home their victory, they could have marched into the city there and then, ominous mutterings of discontent and expressions of indignation were heard amongst the high com- manding officers. The blame was laid on the shoulders of General Stoessel, who was entirely respon- sible for what had happened, and dark was the foreboding for the future. The General —a_ hard, grim man, of iron will—speedily suppressed all open signs of dis- content at his command, but in spite of this a cabal was formed gainst him which he was power- less to destroy, and he became only the nominal head of the gar- rison. ‘The defence works con- structed to keep back the Japanese advance were planned by General Kondrachenko and General Smyrnoff; General Stoessel had no originating part in them. As time went on the ranks of the malcontents were swollen by the addition of the naval commanders, who resented the dictatorial and unsympathetic attitude assumed towards them by the commanding General, The Moz? Krai, so far.as,,it(couldydo|so under the

Page 492

RUNNING repressive influence of military law, had become their mouthpiece, and because of that offence General Stoessel had now suppressed it. The arrival of Colonel Volski, of the ‘Twelfth Siberian Rifle Regiment, brought Nojin abruptly back to the affairs of the moment. By the expression of his face Nojin knew at once that the colonel had news of importance to impart to him. “We are making a sortie from Etseshan to- night,” said Volski, hurriedly, “and General Smyrnoff sent me to ask you if you would like to be present. Will you come?” “Yes, I suppose I may. What time is it to take place?” “Rather earlier than usual—eight o'clock. We want to take advantage of the storm. It ‘will assist us in our work.” / i 0 B “WE ARE MAKING A SORTIE FROM ETSESHAN TO-NIGHT, SATD VOLSKT. THE BLOCKADE. 483 “Yes; I'll be there. Please convey to General Smyrnoff my best thanks.” . Another moment and Colonel Volski had gone, followed shortly afterwards by Nojin. As the editor stepped out into the fast-darkening street a fierce gust of wind nearly carried him off his feet. There were no lights in those houses which had escaped destruction during the siege, and the thoroughfares were deserted except where guards stood, silent and watchful, on patrol duty. There was no other sound than that made by the wind. The Japanese had been quiet all day, and the hard-pressed garrison, glad of a respite, were waiting for darkness to envelop the earth before attempting again the well-nigh hopeless task of staying the machine- like advance of the foe. From the office of the Mout Krai to the homb-proof house where Nojin lived was but a . couple of hundred yards, and he was soon there. His Cossack servant was waiting for him. “A message has just come for you, sir, from Admiral Viren,” he said, holding out a letter. Surprised and rather astonished at any com- _ munication coming from the Admiral at such an hour, Nojin took it and read it by the light of a dimly - burning oil - lamp. It told him, in two or three brief sentences, that the writer had reccived information that General Stoessel had decided to order the arrest and im- * prisonment of Nojin, who, if he wished to escape, must leave Port Arthur at the earliest opportunity. “Come and see me on the Sevastopol to - night, and Twill help you,” the letter concluded. It did not take long for the perturbed journalist to dispatch a message to General Smyrnoff by his servant stating that he found it impossible, owing to the receipt of an im- portant communication (rom Admiral Viren, to be presenbat the sortie from

Page 493

484 THE WIDE the Etseshan forts. When the Cossack had gone Nojin, putting on a long oilskin cloak, locked the door of his house and made his way to the harbour. It was pitch-dark by now, but Nojin knew every foot of the way, and in less than fifteen minutes he had secured a Chinese sampan coolie, at an exorbitant price, to row him, out to the Sevastopol. ‘The tide was ebbing, and the Chinaman had little else to do than steer his craft between the warships that lay at anchor in every part of the harbour. The Sevastopol was guarding the entrance to the inner bay, the naval basin, and as he came near her Nojin could see the long beams from her searchlight moving slowly to and fro in a seaward direction, which proclaimed that the battleship was watching vigilantly and anxiously for any approach of danger from the prowling, daring scouts of the Japanese fleet. Telling the marine on duty at the top of the gangway that he wished to see Admiral Viren, Nojin was taken to one of the ward-rooms, where he re- mained waiting ashort time. He was at last sum- moned toa large cabin, where he found the Admiral hard at work reading and writing letters, The light of two lamps lit up his lined and careworn face, which, thin and bearded, was prematurely aged. He had on his full uni- form, and a row of medals glit- tered on his breast. As soon as Nojin entered he pushed the letter he was in- diting on one sco avs NO TIME TO LOSE IF YOU WANT TO ESCAPE (WITH ¥OUR, LAF! WORLD MAGAZINE. side and sprang to his feet, shaking his visitor warmly by the hand. “You’ve soon put in an appearance,” he remarked, smilingly. Then he looked grave again, saying, “ But you have no time to lose if you want to escape with your life. Stoessel has resolved on your arrest, and once arrested— well, I need hardly say that we shall hear no more of you.” “ But I don’t know how I am going to avoid it,” replied Nojin, helplessly. “By leaving on the Raztaropny to-morrow night,” said Admiral Viren, quietly. ‘The destroyer will leave here with six bags of mail on board and attempt to run the blockade and reach Chifu. You must go with her. You are the only man who has a complete record of the siege of Port Arthur and its defence from an inside point of view. You, and you only, can put us right with the world, which looks upon Stoessel as the heart and soul of the defence, and upon the rest of us as mere instruments of his. Read that.” Nojin picked upthe European newspaper indi- cated, issued six weeks earlier, and smuggled into Port Arthur on one of the Chinese junks regularly en- gaged in the blockade-run- ning _ business. In a prominent position he read a glowing pane- gyric of General Stoessel. There was no mention madeof the won- derful genius of Kondrachenko, whose efforts had alone pre- vented an early termination to the siege, and no reference to the splendid work of the

Page 494

RUNNING THE other soldiers—it was one long adulation of Stoessel. . “That’s only one of them,” remarked Nojin, as he finished reading the article. ‘“ Every paper in Europe and America says the same thing.” “ But you can put things right? You have a complete memoranda ?” “ Of everything ; even down to the orders and counter-orders sent by Stoessel, from the War Office to the forts.” The Admiral’s eyes glistened with pleasure. “You must come and stay on board the Sevastopol until the aztaropny leaves,” he urged. “And you had better come to-night, bringing everything you require with you.” After a few more words had passed between the two men Nojin left the ship and was soon back in his house. Here he made speedy pre- parations for his departure. All his writings and memoranda, together with a few changes of clothing, he placed in a pigskin trunk. ‘Then he sorted and arranged in order some two thousand five hundred photographs, including scenes of every phase of the great struggle of which he had been an eye-witness. It was while he was packing these valuable photographs away that he heard the distant boom, boom, of heavy guns. The Russians had commenced their sortie, then. Pray Heaven that they had success! He listened intently. Surely that was the tramp of many feet in the street! Nojin stopped his work and listened, with a chill fear creeping over him. The noise grew louder—it was the tramp of soldiers’ feet along the cobbled thoroughfare. Nerved to feverish action by the certainty that his suspicions were correct, the journalist thrust as many photographs into the trunk as he could hold in his two hands and banged down the lid, fitting the key into the lock and turning it with trembling fingers. Then, lifting the trunk in his hands, he moved quickly out of the room, blowing out the light of the oil-lamp in the passage as he walked by it. As he did so the tramping feet outside stopped and there came a thunderous knocking on the door. Nojin, with cat-like tread, stole along the passage to the back entrance and slipped out of the house. As the black night swallowed him up he heard the bursting open of the front door and the inward rush of men. The emissaries of General Stoessel had only just missed catching their quarry ! It was a wild, blustering November day, and the storm-whipped waters of the harbour at Port Arthur made it rough voyaging for all small BLOCKADE. 485 craft. There were very few, however, to be seen. The Chinese sampans were all gathered for shelter under the lee of the shore, and their owners slept away the day or smoked opium in sublime forgetfulness of the death and disease hovering over the strongest fortress in the world. Even when a steam:launch crowded with soldiers set off from the wharf they did not take heed of it. Steam - launches and soldiers were to be seen every day. This particular steam-launch, however, had on board a search-party with orders to look for Eugene Nojin, who was supposed to be in hiding on one of the ships of the Russian fleet. It was to the flagship, the Sezaséopol, that it steamed, the search-party remaining on board while the elderly lieutenant in charge mounted the gangway of the battleship and demanded to see Admiral Viren. The Admiral happened to be on deck at the time, and the lieutenant was taken to him. The two men saluted one another punctiliously. “JT have an order here from General Stoessel to search the ships of the flect for Eugene Nojin, and arrest him,” said the lieutenant, abruptly, without waiting to be asked the nature of his business. “Let me see the order,” commanded the Admiral. The lieutenant took from his pocket the written document and handed it to the other, who read it twice without comment or facial expression of any sort. “That order. cannot be enforced in any shi}: under my command,” he said at length. ‘Take it back to General Stoessel and teil him what 1 have said.” The lieutenant, momentarily taken aback, took the order and replaced it in his pocket. Then an angry flush came over his cheeks, and, regaining his confidence, he repeated firmly that he had come to search the ship, and, moreover, that he intended to carry out his order. Admiral Viren regarded him with an icy stare. Then he shouted an order, and immediately sailors came running up from all parts of the deck. : “Now leave this ship at once,” said the Admiral, sternly, “and remember that if you go alongside any other ship in the harbour with your search-party you will be sunk. Sce that my orders are signalled at once to the rest of the fleet, Lieutenant Scallon.” The naval officer thus addressed saluted and darted off to obey the command. <A few seconds later, looking up at the main-mast of the Sevastopol, the representative of General Stoessel saw the fluttering flags spelling out, letter by Ictter, thé stern order that had been

Page 495

486 THE WIDE given respecting his movements. He was no fool, and he recognised the uselessness of remaining any longer on the battleship. So, saluting the Admiral stiffly, he turned, followed by a naval guard, and descended the gangway of the ship to his waiting launch. ‘Twenty minutes later he was in- forming the en- raged Stoessel of the fruitless result of his mission. As the short, dreary day wore to its close the storm that had been raging since the morning waxed in strength and fury. Rain, hail, and snow fell in blind- ing sheets, and the cold was intense. “Will she be able to cross in such — weather 2?” asked Nojin, as he sat with Admiral Viren in a warm and cosy cabin of the Sevastopol. “The weather makes the attempt all the more sure of success. If she does not get through the Japs’ line on such a rough night as this she will never get through at all.” At nine o'clock, the hour timed, for the destroyer to leave, Nojin was standing on the deck of the Sevastopol, under cover of the awning, with his’ pigskin trunk by his side. As he peered into the thick darkness he saw a rocket soar high up into the air from the wharf at the shore end of the bay. Then, as though moved by clockwork, the searchlights of the ships, moored in double column down the bay, were unshuttered, and a pathway of blinding brilliance sprang out across the foaming water At the far end of that radiant road of light appeared a little black speck. Quickly it grew in size, and presently Nojin) made out the whale-backed form of a destroyer. It was the Aas/aropny. As she came on there was no noise of cheering WORLD ‘NOW LEAVE THIS SHE AT ONCK, MAGAZINE. from the crowded decks of the giant cruisers and battleships she passed. But, instead, there was the soft music of Russian hymns, so soft and dreamy that it could scarcely be heard in the uproar of the storm. The band of each ship was giving the little destroyer a parting benedic- tion, for she was in all probability going to destruc- tion. The searchlights were turned off as the destroyer came alongside the Sevastopol, and in darkness Nojin descended to the deck of the vessel which was to bear him from the power of the mili- tary chief whom he had offended. His trunk was then passed down to him, and it bad hardly been stowed away before the lite Rastaropny was heading through the bottle- necked entrance of the harbour into the open sea. Gallantly she breasted the waves that rose and spouted — blinding spray upon her decks. Bravely she headed down into the valleys of SAID THE ADMIRAL, STEKNEV. water, remaining there until hercrew thonsht that) she would) never rise again. steadily she held on her way, directed by no light of heaven or man, and surrounded by blackness so intense that the sailors, cautiously moving from one part of the deck to another, often met in collision, And ahead was_ the Japanese fleot, waiting, watching —a link of steel stretching from cast tu west. The first signal the captain of the Rastaropny received that he was upon it was the sudden appearance of a hue shape looming up through the blackness of the night, a shape which rose and fell with the swell of the sea. And there, straight ahead, were more phantom shapes. ‘To pass thes i ne ie vas SOOO a wide

Page 496

RUNNING “AND THERE, STRAIGHT AHEAD, WERE MORE PHANTOM SHAPE: detour, and in doing this the racing destroyer ran close by several gunboats and smaller ships of the enemy. All these vessels were carrying lights, and it was as much due to this fact as to anything else that the fugitive escaped destruc- tion. As it was, she safely passed through the line of the blockading fivet, suffering little damage from the heavy seas, and entered Chifu harbour early in the morning. A few weeks before her remarkable run across the Yellow Sea I arrived in Chifu from Manchuria, where I had been acting as the war correspondent of the London Daily Mail. 1 was asleep one morning at my hotel when my THE BLOCKADE. 487 Chinese boy entered the room and roused me from my slumber. “ Master,” he shouted, ‘have got one fightee ship.” I scrambled out of bed and, not waiting to put on my clothes, rushed out on the veranda in my pyjamas. ‘There, sure enough, pitching and roll- ing in the heavy sea, near the United States cruiser Mew Or- deans, was a Russian destroyer. I went on board, found out that she was the Raz/aropny, and met her skipper, Captain Plen, and Eugene Nojin. During the next few da obtained the complete sto his experiences from N: whose plan it was to write a detailed history of the defence of Port Arthur for publication in the English language, illustra- ted by his own unique photo- graphs. But that work has never yet seen the light of day. General Stoessel found means of communicating with — the Russian agents on the China coast concerning Nojin, who, after various unsuccessful _at- tempts had been made to kid- nap him, was lured on board a ship at Hong-Kong, where he had gone to prepare his manu- script, and taken to Vladivo- stock. From there he wrote to Mr. Lavinski, a well-known resident of Chifu, stating that he was on his way back to Russia. All his valuable memoranda and photographs had been seized by the Russian authorities at Vladivostock, and he had been threatened with imprisonment and death if he ever published a word concerning the true state of affairs in Port Arthur up to the day he left it. I have made innumerable inquiries after Eugene Nojin since, and have closely followed the news of the Press of all countries in the hope of hearing something about him, but all to no purpose. He seems to have disappeared from the world and from life itself. Did the power of General Stoessel crush him to the earth, or will he one day give to the world the true and vivid history of the most wonderful sicge in the annals of warfare ?

Page 497

QUEER FIXES. By Witttam McNair, J. Mayne BaLtimore, AND CHARLES LAVELL. Some adventures, thrilling though they may be, follow stereotyped lines, while others develop in unusual directions, gaining added peril from their very unexpectedness. It is a collection of such out-of-the-way experiences that is here presented. L—WHAT HAPPENED ON CARPENTER CREEK. By Witiiam McNair. MBN April, 1904, 1 was working on the BY) Canadian Pacific Railway in the Jaa) exalted capacity of “section hand,” away up among the beautiful moun. tains of British Columbia, upon a line of railway which traverses a valley—in company with a torrent known as Carpenter Creek—trom the mining town of Sandon to ‘Three Forks, about five miles distant, and some thousand feet lower down. ‘There had been “all kinds” of snow during the winter, and this snow was now hurrying helter-skelter down the mountain sides before its great enemy the sun. Portions of the snow, however, instead of melting away in a decent and orderly manner, came sliding down e” masse, carrying all before them— including a trestle bridge belonging to a neighbouring railway company, which ran along the opposite side of the “gulch,” at a greater elevation than the Canadian Pacific — and several hundred feet of rails, not to speak of numbers of trees and fallen logs. This huge mass of débris deposited itself in the bed of Carpenter Creek, already clamorous with the amount of refugee snow that it was transporting, straightway damming the original course of the torrent, and forcing it to cut out for itself a new course right over the Canadian Pacific rails. We, of course, were at once set to work to cut a path for the water through the “ jam.” Our gang only consisted of the foreman, Tom C , two Hungarians—one of whom could not speak a word of English—and myself; and in spite of our manful efforts to set the “jam” going down stream, it was six p.m. and supper time before we had made the slightest impression upon the chaos of twisted branches and tree- trunks, Now, supper is a very important function to the “section hand,” and so, at a word from the “boss,” we left the rushing waters to work their sweet will upon the track, while we howed our heads to the “push-car” and propelled it two miles up a five per cent. grade to Sandon. I, being a “white man,” was allowed the privilege of living in Tom C——’s shanty, while the Hungarians, not being’ considered “ white,” had a hut to themselves. It was during supper that ‘T'om confided to me his intention of putting a “night in” removing the obstruction across Carpenter Creek. ‘The methods he proposed to employ were simple, and easily explained in his own words. We would take down a case of dynamite, he said, and “ blow the thing to smithereens,” So it came about that:darkness saw us, with Tom at the brake, speeding down the grade, winding round curves, roaring over trestle bridges, and passing swiftly between long defiles of sighing trees, in company with a most deadly-looking case of dynamite, coils of fuse, and a tin of percussion caps. Having arrived upon the scene of our nocturnal labours we took our “ push-car” off the track and began preparations for blowing the “jam” to pieces. I, having somehow acquired a reputation for being a lover of adventure, was deputed to assist the “boss” in placing and setting off the charges. The Hungarians soon had a fire going and rows of yellow dynamite sticks thawing them selves before the blaze, which foolhardy practice added little to my ease of mind, and caused me to make frequent excursions, in an unostenta- tious manner, down the track to view the further extremities of the “jam.” However, as 1 felt that any show of fear would be liable to cast a slur upon the tra- ditional pluck of my countrymen, I soon returned and began helping Tom make up the charges, contenting myself with throwing out tentative hints about the use of hot water, etc., at the same time putting as many dynamite sticks as I could carry with ease inside my clothes, to thaw next my skin. However, as it turned out, danger was not to come from that direction. Our method of blasting was to make a kind of shell by binding four or five sticks of the explosive together, and enveloping the whole in a piece of sacking, after) having> connected the

Page 498

QUEER FIXES. “THE HUNGARIANS SOON HAD A FIRE GOING AND ROWS OF YELLOW DYNAMITE STICKS THAWING THEMSELVES BEFORE ‘THE BLAZE. fuse, which we made long enough to give us about four minutes in which to make ourselves scarce. I then went first, carrying a railway lantern, while Tom followed with the shell tucked under his arm. Out into mid-stream we made our way, balancing ourselves precariously upon the wet and slippery trunks of the fallen trees, all gnarled with knots and branches. We were in complete darkness save for the feeble light of the lantern, and we could feel the “jam” trembling as the water surged and rushed all round and underneath us, in its furious attempt to clear the obstruction out of its way. Having reached a point where we thought we could do most damage to the “jam,” Tom lit the fuse with a match, and then threw his im- provised bomb into the water, taking great care that it did not strike anything in its fall. After this there remained nothing for us but an undignified and breathless scramble back to shore and a hard run toa place of safety, there to await the explosion. We set off about half-a-dozen bombs in this Vol, xviii, —62. 489 way, with little or no effect ; then, the night getting advanced and ourselves more bold, we determined to see what a shell of far greater pro- portions than we had hitherto used would do. We accordingly went back to the fire—round which the two Hun- garians were crouching, watching the thawing sticks of dynamite—and there prepared a great bomb consisting of twenty-five sticks of the powerful explosive, which contained forty per cent. of dynamite. We packed these tightly and bound them up as before, in a piece of sacking, after having put in a piece of fuse that would burn for some four minutes or so. The night was crisp and cold, and the snow crunched under our feet as Tom and I set out with the shell which was destined to give us such terrible moments of anxiety. With myself in advance, carrying the lantern, we edged care- fully out along the fallen tree-trunks, dodging round the twisted branches, while Tom hugged to his breast the fearful engine of destruction, which looked in the gloom like some great wasp’s nest not as yet disturbed, but neverthe- less full of direful possibilities. Having come to a point in the “jam” which we considered advantageous to our purpose, Tom took the big shell from under his arm and, resting it upon his bended knees, started to open the end of the fuse so as to more readily ignite the gunpowder with which it was partly filled. I stood facing him, holding the light. All being ready, ‘Tom, instead of lighting up with a match, as he had done before, thought it would be quicker to open the top of the lantern and start the fuse from the flame. Neither of us dreamed of what was to follow! No sooner had the gunpowder been brought in contact with the flame than—as that explosive is apt to do when unconfined — it ignited with a rush, putting out our light, and leaving us in darkness! For a few seconds ,after;this disaster we

Page 499

490 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. peered at one another, spellbound with dismay at the unexpectedness of the danger that had come upon us. Tom stood motionless, literally holding both our lives in his hand, while the fuse fizzled and spluttered with fearful speed towards its terrible end—and ours. Meanwhile the tree-trunks upon which we stood swayed and rocked in the eddying waters, and without a word passing be- tween us we both realized into what an awful trap our own act had precipitated us. To blow out the fuse was im- possible, it was equally impossible to pinch it out, and it would burn under water. To throw the bomb from us in the darkness and risk its hitting a tree or rock in its flight meant almost certain injury, if not death. There was only one alternative. “Cut it!” I said, handing Tom my nail scissors, which I always carried with me. Without a word he took the scissors and tried without success to hack his way through the tenacious substance which connected the fast - ap- proaching flame to the compact mass of dynamite. “T ccan’t cut it,” he stam- mered, at last, handing the scissors back to me; and as he spoke I saw with starting eyes that the ever-shortening fuse was burning with the fury of a squib to its terrible consummation. I can only guess how Tom felt just then, but I know that, as death was rapidly evolving from a mere possibility to a dead cer- tainty, I became possessed of an icy coolness . tinctured with feelings of silent fury. To stand there and wait was death ; to dis- connect the fuse was impossible under the circumstances. To throw the shell from under us and run seemed the only chance, for, even, should the bomb explode on striking a tree or rock, we might at least hope to escape with injuries. By this time the fuse was more than half burned, and the situation was becoming desperate. “Throw it away!” I almost commanded, and while Tom raised the bomb, so soon to explode, above his head, I exhorted him to throw it for all he was worth. He gave a mighty heave, and, with a loud splash, the infernal machine hit the water some- where in the darkness below us. Then Tom and I turned tail and scrambled for cover through the gloom, stumbling over the rough tree-trunks with absolutely no regard, in our “TOM RAISED THE BOMI ABOVE HIS HEAD,” frantic haste, for our bruised and bleeding shins. No sooner had we reached the shore than the shell went off with a terrific explosion, hurling a column of water and sundry branches and logs high into the air ! As the reverberations died away among the mountains there was an intense silence, save for the cries of a few startled blue jays. Then the reaction set in, and Tom and I indulged in uncontrolled fits of laughter — somewhat hysterical, no doubt, but laughter none the less. . As luck would have it, that last shot at a venture shattered the “jam,” and Carpenter Creek once more resumed its wonted course, while we packed our kit and made our weary way to Sandon and to_bed,

Page 500

QUEER FIXES. 491 IL—'TWIXT ICE AND SEA. TOLD BY FREDERICK MARTIN AND SET DOWN BY J. MAYNE BALTIMORE. FREDERICK MartTIN is a fisherman of San Francisco, California, U.S.A. He spent the winter of 1905 at the fishing camp of the Union Fish Company at Eagle Harbour, Alaska. One bright day in February, Martin concluded he would go out fishing in his dory alone, never considering the freaks of a treacherous climate. By a singular oversight, he took no matches with him, thus omitting any means of making a fire. He thought about it later, but merely said to himself, “Oh, well, I shall be gone only a few hours. I'll just go round the land corner, and be back in time for my dinner.” So away he pulled to look for codfish. It was several miles to the “land corner”—the high point that jutted sharply out into the sea, but the water was quite smooth and the fisher- man made good progress. Scarcely, however, had Martin rounded the abrupt point, when a tremendous gale sprang up from the north-west, scourging the hungry seas into foaming fury and hurling the dory this way and that like a mere chip. Not a ghost of a chance was left Martin to return to camp in the teeth of the gale ; he was compelled to run for such shelter or landing- place as the fierce winds and fearful seas per- mitted. Just ahead of him he sighted a narrow bay or inlet. “I will run for that and get ashore,” Martin muttered, through his clenched teeth. No sooner said than done; the thing was simple enough. He knew he was not five miles from camp, and he was sure he could easily make his way back overland. Presently the inexorable thrust of the raging gale cast him helpless upon the beach of the little bay. Judge of Martin’s consternation and horror, however, when, on making a_ brief exploration, he discovered that he was shut up in a veritable prison of ice, whose only gateway was the hungry, devouring sea. Backed by sheer cliffs rising eight hundred feet high, coated with a film of ice, the narrow crescent of the beach made a prison as hopeless as the ancient Bastille, and further removed from human aid or sympathy. Martin saw ata glance that he was face to face with death—a slow, lingering, inch-by-inch death from cold. Now, the strange thing is that this man, reduced to the most desperate straits, began gravely to record with a stump of pencil, on fragments of paper and strips of wood cut from his dory, his sensations from hour to hour. Nothing was omitted in this terrible record of his sufferings—his expedients, his despair, and his recourse to devouring his raw fish-bait for food, after two days’ starvation. ‘Then follow notes of his desperate fight to keep the blood moving by savagely beating his feet with the handle of a gaff-hook, his final perseverance, and his wonderful escape, after hope had deserted him, by climbing the ice-coated rocks. Strange fancies often pursue a man in dire extremity. His record of fearful sufferings and dangers during those three terrible days seems to have afforded Martin companionship—-almost consolation. Again and again the prisoner explored the beach and scanned the towering cliffs for an avenue of escape, but entirely without success. Then he prepared to pass the night as best he could. Pulling the battered dory farther up the beach he turned it over, wrapped himself in a piece of old sail, and crawled under the miserable shelter. It was bitter cold, the gale was furious, and the seas tumultuous. Martin dared not go to sleep, even if sleep were possible. He spent a night full of indescribable suffering and horrors, crouching on his hands and knees, and cruelly beating himself with the gaff-handle to prevent himself freezing to death. The horrors of that fearful night were repeated next day. For two days Martin had no food and no fire, with the temperature ranging below zero. His voice died in his throat, he lost the power of speech, his mind, it seemed, was giving way under the awful strain. The weary hours dragged along in slow, horrible suspense. He must do something to keep his mind from madness, and accordingly he whittled chips of wood off his dory and wrote messages, more or less incoherent, that might be found after he was dead. Some of the sentences he scribbled in pencil were: ‘‘ To-day, if the wind don’t change, is my last day.” “Give my best regards to C. Schmaiz.” “ This is a terrible place. I can’t get out.” “T have to die in terrible suffering, but when I am gone I shall be very happy.” “ Maybe, I would last a few days longer, but I have no food.” Most of the entries in that remarkable diary ran like the above—broken, fragmentary, but terribly eloquent of the man’s plight. Still, in spite of his sufferings, Martin’s in- domitable spirit could not bé crushed. He had

Page 501

492 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. in his dory some small fish-scul- pins; these he voraciously de- voured raw. Then, in despe- ration, the man determined to try to scale the beetling, ice- clad cliffs. Escape seaward was hopeless. The storm still raged with un- abated fury, gale succeeded gale, and tre- mendous _ seas broke continu- ally on the beach. Just about this time Mar- tin was missed at Eagle Har- bour. It was known at the camp that he had gone out fishing alone, and it was con- jectured that he had been sud- denly overtaken by the gale. His com- panions deemed his fate sealed. To attempt to search for him in such a storm was foolhardy—too hazardous even to think about. And so the hapless man was abandoned to his awful doom. There was a narrow pinnacle of rock jutting from the icy face of the mountain. “Tf I could only reach that point, I might make my way upward,” Martin kept muttering. But it was useless “Tie CONTRIVED TO ZIGZAG HIS WAY UPWAKDS." rock without something more than his bare hands and feet. In his dory Martin had a strong rope of considerable length, and with this he made a noose. Again and again he cast the lasso at the sharp crag above. He was very weak, and bordering on delirium; but now the faint hope of escape seemed to give him almost superhuman energy. At last, when he was on the verge of utter despair, the noose caught on the pinnacle and held fast. How Martin ever managed to drag him- self up to the little jutting crag he himself could never tell; but at last, nearly lifeless, he reached it. From that point of vantage he contrived to zigzag his way upwards, slowly and_ painfully, in constant peril of crashing headlong to the beach. Barefooted, frost-bitten, hatless, torn, bleeding, and almost dead, Martin finally reached the lofty crest. Once on the summit of the moun- tain, calling all his resolution to his aid, he somehow or other dragyed himself to the camp, where he arrived in a fearful physical and mental condition, to think of climbing in rubber boots. If | that cliff was to be | conquered it must be | done with bare feet, or not at all. | Even then it was | hopeless to attempt to ~ scale the smooth, icy A FACSIMILE OF ONE OF THE MESSAGES WKITTEN BY MARTIN WHILE CONFINED IN HIS ICY PRISON. having spent three days and two nights in his icy prison. It was found necessary to amputate his frozen toes, and it was days before he recovered ~ from his protracted ordeal. Digitized by GOORTe Cc

Page 502

QUEER FIXES. 493 IlL—A PEDESTRIAN’S PREDICAMENT. Totp By WILLIAM CHARLES BEIL AND SET DOWN BY CHARLES LAVELL. WituiaM CHARLES Beit is a youthful American, twenty-two years of age, who is walking round the globe on foot for a twenty- five thousand dollars wager. He started penni- less from Cape Town on the 4th of July, 1905, and he must neither beg, borrow, nor steal during his pilgrimage. At the time the follow- ing exciting adventure took place he had been engaged on his monotonous task exactly nine- teen days, and was within about two hundred miles of De Aar, with the intention of walking straight through Africa from Cape Town to Port Said. This plan, however, was frustrated by the impassable nature of the swollen rivers and bad roads near Lourengo Marques, and he had therefore to retrace his steps to the starting point. Reaching England on Octo- ber 15th he entered a week later upon the British section of his tour, which embraced the United Kingdom. His route next lay through Europe, Asia Minor, the Soudan, and across Asia to Shanghai. Be- fore he reaches New York, where his journey ends, he will have travelled about twenty-seven thousand miles. He has six years in which to complete his colossal pilgrim- age. For obvious reasons he abstains from mentioning the exact locality of the startling experience here set forth in his own words. I was a trespasser. I did not know it at the time, for one easily oversteps the in- visible border - line between which I could see far ahead, shimmering in the bright sunlight— made a wide detour, and, with the idea of saving my blistered heels at least a little anguish, I struck off at an acute angle into the scrub, intending to rejoin the road where it disappeared over the horizon. Far away on the left I caught sight of some large birds feeding, and, in a hazy manner, I discerned that I was on an ostrich farm. But thirst, extreme fatigue, and lameness do not tend to sharpen one’s powers of observation, and I ploughed as steadily as might be over the burnt grass in the direction where my track dived away into the veldt again. The great heat seemed to render my senses torpid. How long I had been walking I do not know, but I suddenly became aware that something or somebody was running swiftly towards me. I paused and gazed under my hand in the direction of the sound. With bounding, erratic strides a huge bird was com- ing for me at racing pace, and in the same glance I saw that the feeding ostriches had raised their heads inquiringly, apparently wondering what was the matter. While I watched, the ostrich which had first arrested my atten- tion came nearer and nearer, heading straight for me, and with no apparent diminution of speed. He apparently meant mischief, and as I realized this a sudden panic overtook me, and, forgetting utterly the blistered heels I had been deploring, I turned : f MR. WILIIAM CHARLES BEIL, WHO IS WALKING public and private property kouxn THe worn Fs wacek, AND WHO and ran. HERE RELATES HIS. EX EXPERIENCE. WITT on the Karoo—a broad, un- dulating ‘stretch of scorched, brick - tinted soil, dotted with innumerable kopjes and scrub as far as the eye can see. I had been on my long tramp nearly three weeks, and was, as near as I dare confess, some two hundred miles north of De Aar. Ever since the morning I had been walking steadily through the broiling sunshine, and, anxious to avoid another night like the last, which I had spent in the open, I determined to make the nearest town before evening, still some hours distant. Presently the track — From a\ AN OS’ As I leaped into my stride I recollected that ostriches in the breeding season are invariably dangerous to meddle with, and a chance remark to that effect, heard at a roadside shanty some hundred miles back, recurred to me with maddening iteration. Anyhow, I ran, and at a tangent, hoping against hope that the bird had for its objective something that lay in my original path. Never have I heard such a noise, either before or since, as that cock ostrich made as he sped over the ground, each flying-footstep marked by a far- (Photo,

Page 503

494 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. flung scatter of dust. I can only describe it as a sort of crooning, blended with a peculiarly malignant note—a cry which lent terror to my emotions and additional speed to my feet. Presently, as I peeped over my shoulder, I saw that the bird had altered its line of flight —it was after me, and nobody else! The monstrous bird came onwards like a feathered “THE MONSTROUS BIRD CAME ONWARDS LIKE A FEATHERED ROCKET.” rocket, with neck outstretched and wings braced tightly back against its plumed sides, and my knees trembled at the sight. The next instant, as I turned my head fear- fully, I saw a great purple-tinted leg and foot flash through the air. I ducked, more by instinct than design, and received a buffet on the hip which sent me rolling over and over on the ground dazed and sick. What prompted me to lie prostrate I don’t know. — Still uttering its queer crooning the huge bird darted at me again. Had I attempted to rise at that moment my brains would probably have been dashed out by the powerful legs which fell like hammer-strokes upon my defence- less carcass. Crouching upon the scrub I lay half-stunned, while the brute deliberately pro- . ceeded to trample the life out of me, flut- tering its wings in a frenzy of ; Tage, covering ‘me with dust, and all the while uttering its hor- rible whinny. I gave myself up for lost. I knew there was no possibility of help from human agency, and un- consciously tried to postpone the end by squeez- ing my body as far as possible into the sun- baked soil. As in a dream, almost as if I were a spectator in some uninte- resting street quarrel, I saw the terrible legs striking vainly above me in an attempt to rip me open, For this, as I subse- quently learned, is the effect of a fair blow from an ostrich’s foot. The end was not far off, but fate had ordained that it was not to be my end. Into my brain leaped a desire for life and action. I rolled over on my face, getting as I did so a severe glancing blow on the ribs which tore clothing to the bare flesh, and sent buttons flying in every direction. Crash ! came the bird’s terrible feet on my thighs as I did so, and my move- ment seemed to still further enrage him, for he pecked savagely at me with his beak. + Google Cc Digitize

Page 504

QUEER Then rage such as I have never before ex- perienced—and, I trust, shall never know again —thrilled every fibre in me. My trembling fingers closed on the little leather sheath in which lay the patent knife I wear on my hip. With a wrench I drew it forth and touched the spring. Click! The blade shot out. Protecting my face as well as possible against the blows from above, I watched an oppor. tunity. Presently the ostrich attacked me again with its beak, and I swung my bruised body upward with a superhuman effort and grabbed blindly at the brute’s head. ; Thanks to my good angel, who must surely have been watching over me in this extremity, my clutching fingers did not miss their mark. They sank deep into the short feathers covering a neck which writhed under my grip, as if made of indiarubber rings. A blow from the wildly- waving wing almost cost me my senses, but I hung on with a rage almost as furious as that The brute’s savage exertions of my assailant. “1 STABBED BLINDLY AND VICICUSLY AT THE LITHE, FALPITATING NECK ABOVE MR.” FIXES. 495 dragged me off the ground and jerked me to and fro for a minute like a marionette, my helpless feet trailing and swinging with the violence of the bird’s efforts to loosen my hold. Another blow from its formidable wing brought tears to my eyes, but still IT hung on, though strength was beginning to fail. Then, seeing an oppor- tunity, I brought my right hand round, and stabbed blindly and viciously at the lithe, palpitating neck above me. The next moment a gush of hot blood spurted all over me. Again I stabbed at the yielding flesh, and simul- taneously the great bird fell away from my grasp, uttering a horrible screaming cry. For an instant T half knelt on the scrub panting for breath, but prepared, if necessary, to continue the fight. Again the ostrich came at me, flapping its wings and wagging its head ; then, half way, the bird’s strength failed. The broad breast was dyed with a sudden rush of crimson, and I knew that the danger was over. For a few moments my foe reeled and swayed like a drunken man, lurching round in a circle, and then fell with a soft f/op to the ground. Its feathery sides heaved con- vulsively, the beak opened to give vent to a final squawk of defiance, pain, and rage, and so it expired. Shaking in every limb, and bruised beyond belicf, I rose from the earth and cautiously approached my late enemy from behind. I found my hat, wiped my knife, and with a last glance at the evil bird whose strength and ferocity had so nearly ended my globe-trotting, resumed my journey. The ostriches I had first espied were still feeding as if nothing had happened. Sore and bleeding I made my way from the spot, and coming shortly after to a spruit, I cleansed my clothes and body from the marks of the conflict, and effected some very necessary repairs to my tattered garments. Needless to say, I did of advertise this adventure so long as I was in that neighbourhood. Ostrich farmers are generally hasty when they suspect way- farers of meddling with their birds, and it is difficult to ex- plain under such circumstances. (To be continued )

Page 505

FOUR ON A RAFT. By Joun A. Hore. The author and three companions, being “dead broke,” set out to make a voyage down the flooded Columbia River on a raft. It was a desperate venture, as they soon learnt, for after several hair- breadth escapes disaster utter and complete overtook them. ie a SIM BALLANTYNE and I had f been trapping all winter on the Re 1 pping South Fork of the Similkameen, Cs a) some seventy miles south and east << of the Fraser River. Our operations, however, had not proved very successful, so we donned our snow-shoes and crossed the Divide to old Fort Hope, on the Canadian Pacific Railway, with the intention of going to Revel- stoke--some two hundred and ninety miles east —and from there down the Columbia River to the West Kootenay mining country, in search of a summer’s work at good wages. Starting off along the railway we struck a job at North Bend, and, with a temporary gang, we were put on to clear away a snow-slide that had blocked the track. A couple of days sufficed for this job ; then, having drawn our small earn- ings, we continued our journey. In order to save money, we tramped part of the way, and “beat” trains the rest, to Revelstoke. Making our début at daybreak from the empty box-car of a freight train, much to the astonishment of the train men, we fixed up‘a camp on the river-bank and made some coffee—for railway companies are very backward in supplying non-paying pas- sengers on a freight train with modern comforts. Steamers make connections between Revel- stoke and Sproat’s Landing, which is the nearest point to the Kootenay mines, and about a hundred and sixty-five miles down the Columbia River. As, however, neither of us knew what the boat fare was, I stepped over to the depot and asked the agent. “Single fare to the landing is seven dollars fifty cents,” he informed me, briefly. “ And when does the next boat leave?” “The Kootanai will be the first to go down this spring; but you'll have to wait till next Thursday.” ; “Well,” I muttered, disconsolately, going back to Jim, “if that’s the fare, it doesn’t matter much to us if she never goes.” Four days later I had reason to change my mind. All we could produce between us in hard cash was nine dollars and some odd cents, with the usual Wes- tern outfit of blankets, cook- ing utensils, and a rifle. “That settles our trip to Koo- tenay, Jim,” I said. “ What are we to do now ? Keep on east?” “What’s the use?” returned he. “They are all one-horse towns, same as this one, clean through to Al- berta. Besides,” he added, “we should have to beat trains or walk, and I’m hanged if I ain’t had enough of that during the last two weeks.” “Then there are two of us of the same opinion,” I replied, emphatically : and, sitting oO |

Page 506

FOUR ON A RAFT. 497 down, I filled my pipe and looked at the river. And what a river it was! Being the middle of April the snow on the mountains was melting fast under the influence of the warm “ chinook ” winds, filling the river with a yellow, rolling, tushing flood, which swept down, in its course through the heavily-wooded mountains, trees, logs, and other débris. Presently a great cedar, apparently torn bodily from its roots, sailed past in mid-stream. “What a pair of fools we are, partner,” 1 shouted, jumping to my feet. “Why not build a raft and follow that tree?” and I pointed it out to him. “Bless me! I never thought of that,” he replied. ‘But she’s an ugly-looking brute to manage a raft on, isn’t she ?” “Granted,” I said ; “but there can’t be any falls between hereand the lakes, or the steamer couldn’t go down.” “That’s so,” he ad- mitted. “It’s our only chance fora summer's job this side of the Divide.” With Western men to think is to act, so while Jim was at the store buying an axe I picked up an armful of loose spikes on the railway —where they had been used for spiking: down the rails to the sleepers—to nail our raft together. ‘Then we got to work in a patch of dry cedars on the river-bank. Selecting fourteen logs, about fifteen feet in length and about ten inches in diameter, we dragged them to the water’s edge and laid them side by side. Over these we laid six shorter ones, crosswise, nailing the whole firmly together with the railway spikes. In the midst of our work a tall, slab-sided, morose-looking individual sauntered up to watch us. Finally he spoke: “Say, are you fellers a-going down the river on that thing?” he asked, pointing to the half-finished raft. “Yes. Why?” ‘Waal, the river’s in flood, as yer can see, and with all them logs a-going down there’s sure to be a jam atween here and the lake. It’s dangerous, boys,” he added, shaking his head. “We're not blind,” remarked Jim; “and, anyway, it ain’t your funeral. See here ”—in rising anger — “when we want your advice Vol. xviii.—63. we'll send for you. where.” Jim was a Western American, of splendid physique and few words, and, knowing he was taking desperate “chances,” didn’t want to be reminded of the fact. We made another trip to the store for a fifty-pound bag of flour and Go away and die some- other necessaries, spending the last of our money on fifty feet of cotton rope, to tie up the raft with—it was the only thing that came in useful. We were sitting at the fire after supper, smoking, when two men came into camp. “You go down Kootenay to-morrow ?” asked one, speaking with a foreign accent. “Ves. Why?” “ We want to go too ; we're looking for a job.” “Why don’t you wait and go by the boat, then?” said Jim; then, turning to me, he added, ‘But they're broke like ourselves, I suppose ; and I’d hate to leave my dog here if he was broke. Is the raft big enough to carry four?” . “ Plenty,” I answered ; “and, come to think of it, four can manage her better than two. Let them come.” “Tm agreeable,” he said, and turned to the strangers. “ Bring some grub, if you can get it,” he told them, “and be here early in the morn- ing. Say,” as they moved away, “ what nation- ality are you?” “We Polanders,”

Page 507

498 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. . Being anxious to start soon after daybreak, we ate our breakfast by the light of the camp fire, and when the “ Polanders” arrived we launched the raft, placing our dunnage on a few short logs in the centre, in case any water washed over. The cartridge-belt I buckled round my waist, for our matches were in a pouch of the belt, in a tin box, and must be kept dry at all costs. Then each of us selected a long dry pole, and, stepping aboard the raft, we shoved her out into mid-stream. For the first mile or so the river was fairly straight and smooth, and we glided along very fast. “ Beats the freight-car trick all to pieces, if it keeps like this to the lakes, Jim,” I said, gleefully. “Tm afraid it won’t, though. However, if it gets too rough, we can run her into the bank and jump off,” he replied. Presently the river made a sharp bend round a point, and, owing to the moun- tain slopes closing in and narrowing the channel, commenced to run more swiftly. No sooner had we swept round thisbend than we heard a faint roaring sound, as though made by a train at a distance. We looked at each _ other doubtfully, but said nothing ; we knew what it was, though. The nearer we got to it the louder the roar- ing noise became,and when about three hundred feet or so from the point a sight burst on our view that sent the blood back to our hearts with a rush. ‘ The point of the ridge broke off in a mass of jagged rocks, which stuck up out of the water half-way across the bend, thereby causing the full force of the current to rush against the opposite bank, where it swirled round and back against the jagged rocks in a yellow, seething mass, throwing the spray high in the air. Jim pointed ahead and shouted excitedly, but it was like a man whispering in the teeth of a hurricane, and in less time than it takes to write it the raft was under the bank, where the swirl of the current hurled her back, knocking us off our feet as she spun round. This was lucky, for the next moment she struck the rocks with force enough to smash an ordinary boat to matchwood, sending the rifle, axe, and cooking- tins into the river, where we should have gone too had we been standing up. The flying spray hid everything from our sight and drenched us NEXT MOMENT THE RAFT STRUCK ‘S WITH FORCE ENOUGH TO SMASH AN ORDINARY BOAT.”

Page 508

FOUR ON A RAFT. 499 to the skin; but presently the raft backed away from the force of the impact out into the current and darted away, with the four of us lying flat where we had fallen, and holding on to the edges of the timbers like grim death. In less than thirty seconds we reached another bend, cannoned under the bank opposite the point, and backed out again into the current, which, catching our stern, spun us round like a top, making us feel sick and dizzy. A few hundred feet farther on the river made a wide sweep round a_ third ridge, curving back and form- ing a large pool about four hun- dred feet in width. In this whirlpool — for so it proved to be —the raft waltzed merrily, striking up against logs and trees, and push- ing them out of the way as though she owned the pool. As we had lost our poles at the first bend, we could do no- thing but lie and watch the per- formance. Making a wider circle at every round, the raft at Jast got into the suction of the outgoing current, and we were off again. It mattered little about the loss of our poles, for we were in the grip of the mighty tiver, which took our great, unwieldy, and unmanageable raft where and how it pleased. A few moments later we were turning a wide, quiet bend when one of the Polanders, with a startled look, pointed ahead, “ I.ook !” he shouted. “Tree across river; we done for!” Following the direction of his shaking finger, we saw, right across our path, a “OY WAS THE ONLY ONE LEFT ON THE TRRE-TKUNK, * giant fir resting on the water and _ its roots still firmly embedded in the bank. Under the tree rushed the main current, which explained why it had fallen. To say we were astonished would be to put it mildly; it was the last thing we expected to see. There was no time to lie down or speak a word before the raft struck the tree. Stopping suddenly, the pressure of the current behind heaved up the raft instantly to an acute angle, pitching all four of us, with our dunnage, against the tree. Jim and one of the Polanders, being in front, were knocked off, the bag of flour and an avalanche of blankets falling on top of them. The other Polander fell over the tree, but managed 10 grasp a branch. I was the only one left on the tree-trunk, while the raft was forced under it by the pressure of the water. As she cleared her- self I jumped on, shouting words of encou- ragement to Jim, whose head I could see above the water a hun- dred feet away. As I swept down towards him I looked back at the Polander who was holding on to the branch, his body float- ing straight out on the top of the water, so swift was the current. Hauling in the cotton rope I coiled it up ready to throw to Jim when near enough, and being heavy with water it flew straight, falling on his head. As I helped him on to the raft I shouted back to the Polander— who was trying hard to pull himself up against the current to get on to the tree—to hold on for his life and we would, try to come back for him. ~

Page 509

500 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. I looked round for his partner, but he was nowhere in sight, and we never saw him again. Our coats, blankets, and flour floated away ahead of us, but we had no means of overtaking them. “Watch the next bend ahead, and if we go near enough to the bank let’s jump off this wretched contrivance and swim ashore,” re- marked Jim. We didn’t get the chance, how- ever, for the raft obstinately kept in the middle of the swift-rushing river. “Heavens!” suddenly shouted Jim, “we're done for now. Listen to that !” I did, and could hear a dull, sobbing roar somewhere ahead. I knew the sound only too well—it was a jam, and we were floating down to it as helpless as two children. I felt my face blanch and my hair bristle as I stared at Jim’s white face. “We must jump as near the bank as we can and swim for it, or we'll be sucked under that jam like a pair of flies!” cried Jim. “But I can’t swim,” I shouted back, hope- lessly. Jim said no- thing — only gave me a look —and we waited in silence for the end. After swinging round a bend, how- ever, the river widened out, curving back and round in the form of a horse -shoe, and here the raft. ran in under the bank, but, alas! it was too high for us either to jump on to or catch hold of. Suddenly Jim uttered an ex- clamation and pointed ahead to where a ridge covered with “1 WAS DKAGGED UP ON TO A ROCK BY JIM." stunted juniper trees seemed to run out into the river. ‘ Look!” he shouted, “don’t you see how the water is breaking into foam among the rocks? It must be the current running past the point of that ridge. We must jump there at all costs.” : As the raft drew nearer we could see that we had a chance—a fighting chance, certainly, and perhaps our last, for by the sound of the mutter- ing roar the jam couldn’t be far away. “Off with your boots, Jack ; then stand here at the stern and jump when I give the word. I'll jump behind and help you all I can. It’s the best I can do,” said Jim. Then we shook hands and turned our eyes on the point without another word. How slowly we seemed to be going; the seconds were like hours as we approached that fatal point! With starting eyes we saw that the raft was edging a little nearer to the bank. Would she go suffi- ciently near for us to. struggle through that yellow, rushing flood? Presently we could see the water boiling over the rocks on the point, and my heart began to beat like a sledge- hammer. How terribly far out the raft was keeping ! “She's going past, Jim!” I yelled, under the terrible strain. “Quick! Jump!” With that I sprang out as far as I could. As I rose in the swirling, ice-cold water, gasping for breath, I felt something grip me by the shoul- der. The next moment I was dragged upon to a rock by Jim, and thence up the bank, where we both fell ex- hausted.

Page 510

FOUR ON A RAFT. gor Shivering with cold, we rested for a few more than our food ; then, Nature asserting her- minutes and then started back up the river to self, we assuaged our ravenous hunger by chew- look for the Polander, whom we had last seen ing the bark of trees and such-like delicacies. hanging on to the tree on the same side of the On Thursday morning we kept our eyes riveted river as we were now. We forced our way at steadily on the bend of the river above the tree, top speed through thick underbrush and over watching for the boat, and praying fervently fallen timber, hurting our defenceless feet terribly that the agent had not made a mistake as to her in the process ; and when near the scene of our _time of leaving. disaster we shouted together and listened for an At last we heard the dull beat of her answer, but, getting none, we hurried on until paddle - wheel, and in a few minutes she we reached the fallen tree. There, to our rounded the bend and, seeing the tree, swung astonishment, out and past the was the poor top of it. We wretch sitting waved our arms among the frantically as she branches, appa- came abreast; rently afraid to her paddles venture over. stopped and “Why don’t round she came, you straddle the away below us, trunk and work and headed your way to the back up to the bank?” bawled bank. We were Jim between his seen and taken hands. on board. The reply was “Are you the THE AUTHOR, Mi. JOUN A, HOPE, HIS COMPANION, MR. J. HALLANTYNE. so faint that we From a Vheto. Photo. by Henrici's Studio, Philadephia, Yellows that left failed to hear it. : Revelstoke last “Go after him while I start a fire,” said Jim Monday on a raft?” shouted the captain from to me. the bridge. Mounting the tree, I straddled it, and placing “What's left of us,” we replied. my hands well forward jumped up to them like “How many of you started then?” a frog, and so on until near enough to the “Four of us; that tree you just passed Polander to make myself heard. But I had to wrecked us, and one got swept away.” use some forceful language before I could get He came down from the bridge and shook him to land—a difficult feat on a bare tree- hands with us; he was human, at any rate. trunk, swaying about on a powerful current. “T didn’t expect to see you alive, boys, and Jim had three fires lit, some distance apart, that’s a fact,” he said ; ‘(and now you had better and in between these we crept to dry and keep _ interview the cook, for I guess you haven’t had ourselves warm. At night we each took turns your meals regular, by the look of you.” to keep the fires going; for it must be As we were just passing the point where we remembered that two of us were bootless and jumped from the raft, we waited a few minutes all were coatless and hatless, and the nights are to see what the jam looked like. ‘The captain very cold in the mountains even in mid-summer. no sooner came in sight of it than he rang the We were warm but hungry, for being spring engine-room bell to reverse engines. ‘Thousands there wasn’t even a berry to be had, nothing but of logs, trees, and driftwood had caught on the trees, bushes, moss, and muddy water in plenty. point of a small island, blocking up one channel True, there was one animal that could be killed _ entirely and forcing the river into a narrow strait with a stick-—the porcupine—but, although we on the other side of the island. In this channel searched diligently for the sharp-quilled rascal, the water boiled and foained like a huge we failed to find one. cauldron, as it came up from under and through To tramp back to Revelstoke in our bare the thousands of logs, causing the A’vofanat to feet, over fallen timber, swollen streams, and heave violently, and forcing her to pass through rugged rocks on steep mountain sides, was out it with engines‘reversed at full speed. The roar of the question. was deafening ; our raft would have been sucked Down stream was no better; we were caught under like a chip had it lived to reach this like rats in a trap, and must wait with what place. We looked at each other, and fully patience we could for the steamer. realized—perhaps for the first time—what a For the first two days we missed our tobacco narrow escape we had had.

Page 511

By ERNEstT R. SUFFLING. An interesting article on a little-known subject, compiled by Mr. Suffling from the diary of Captain Walter Jackson, a veteran Arctic explorer and hunter. It will be seen from the captain’s adventures that the pursuit of the mighty walrus in his haunts amid the eternal ice is a decidedly exciting and hazardous business. z UNTING the walrus is an experi- ence which but few slayers of big game have ever indulged in, the } cold and risks of an Arctic winter being more than the average sports- man cares to undertake, not to mention the necessity of spending twelve or even sixteen months away from home. Going out in May or June, when the waters are sufficiently open to allow of navigation, the hunter has but a short three months before him ere the ice from the North closes down again, and he must make up his mind either to come home at once or remain and spend the autumn, winter, spring, and early summer in the snuggest quarters he can find. If he chooses the latter —the best course if he really wishes to see sport —he may join a tribe of Eskimos, and enjoy with them such hunting as the district affords. In return for the help of his gun, his stock of provisions, and any little presents he may make them, the Eskimos will build him an zg/va, or winter house, share their skin /fek, or summer hut, with him, and make him welcome in their barbarous but hospitable manner to everything they possess —sledges, dogs, weapons, and utensils and implements of every kind. The squat but comely damsels, with the skins he provides as the spoils of the chase, will soon tig him out in a warm and comfortable native dress, chewing over and over again, as is their custom, every particle of skin to make it soft and pliable. Such garments, sewn together with sinews drawn from the hind leg of the caribou, will stand any amount of rough usage and be impervious to both wind and wet, be it snow or the cold Arctic rain. Going out on a commercial venture a couple of years since to Baffin Land, Captain Walter Jackson, of Ipswich, lived among the Eskimos, or Innuits as they call themselves, during a period of sixteen months. He took copious notes of all the strange things he saw and did, and from his journal I purpose extracting a few interesting passages relating to the capture of the mighty walrus, a huge beast weighing in his adult state anything between six or seven hundredweight and a ton. On one occasion he had been out sealing with three natives, and was returning with a couple of miserable WerstR seals (Phoca fatida) as the result of seven hours’ exposure in a small whale-boat, when, upon rounding some floating flat bergs which rose fifteen or twenty feet above the sea-level, they were surprised by five walrus, three adults and two calves, dropping into the sea within a few yards of them. Jackson, who was steering, made a grab for his rifle, and fired at one of the calves who was hesitating on the ice-edge. He hit it, where- upon it uttered its peculiar barking cry and fell into the water, Berean GOoOole Q

Page 512

THE PERILS OF WALRUS- HUNTING. 503 Almost at the same moment the mother walrus rose to the surface, took in the situation at a glance, and charged furiously at the boat. Upon land or ice the walrus is a clumsy, awkward brute, but in the sea it is wonderfully quick and clever, and when opportunity occurs can use its long and powerful tusks with terrible effect. Up rose the great head with its bluff nose, mantled with bristles as thick as a stout darning- needle. The brute’s tusks glistened in the light, whilst its small eyes were luminous with rage. Without the slightest hesitation it charged the boat, nearly overturning it, for at the last moment it apparently altered its mind and, instead of using its tusks, slid under the keel, half lifting the boat from the water with its mighty back. Had the little craft been upset the occu- pants would have had but a poor chance for their lives, as a man in the water would have no show whatever with such powerful swimmers as_ these animals. The boat swayed and lurched, took in a little water over her port gunwale, and righted herself just as the great walrus came up twenty yards away and turned to continue the attack. Jackson, thinking the boat was about to be swamped, had put the rifle in the bottom, but, quickly recovering it, slipped in a cartridge and fired, hitting the brute in the forehead. The shot caused it to dive hastily, and Jackson congratulated himself that the walrus was killed, but he was wrong, for with an awful snorting below it rose to the surface and came at the boat again, ripping a plank out of the side just below the water-line with its ivory tusks. For a moment there was nearly a panic on board, but seeing the water gushing through the hole left by the missing strake, Myouk, one of the natives, threw himself down at full length and plugged the hole as it were with his fur-clad body, whilst the others disposed them- selves on the starboard side of the boat, thus heeling her over, and to a great extent kept the damaged part out of the water. The craft had by this time drifted a con- siderable distance from the ice, but all might yet be well if the walrus did not attack them again. As the beast did not immediately arise, Illiakah and Ahdlakoo, two of the natives, tore off their Aooletahs (fur jackets) and stuffed them From a} CAPTAIN WALTER JACKSON, WHOSE. EXCITING EXPERIFNCES ARR HERE RELATED. into the hole, through which the water still occasionally poured, as the boat lurched on a small wave.- Whilst they were thus occupied Jackson gave a warning shout. Looking up, the men saw the walrus making straight for them again, looking a very water- fiend as she ploughed open-mouthed and bellowing for the boat. With a cry for all to “Hold on!” Jackson raised his rifle and, allowing the infuriated beast to approach within three yards of the boat, fired point-blank at its wicked-looking, tage-inflamed eye. The bullet sped true, killing the walrus at once. Almost at the same in- stant Ahdlakoo arose and hurled his passimut at the sinking animal, and thus secured the carcass by his prompt act. EB The passimut is a seal spear, too light for slaying the walrus, but it entered his rough hide, and the line and bladder attached served to locate the carcass, which sank in ten fathoms of water. By the aid of Myouk’s body and the jackets of the other natives the boat was, in an almost sinking state, edged gradually to an ice-floe, upon which the party scrambled. In half an hour the boat, having been hauled upon the ice-floe, was rendered fairly water - tight by means of the skins of the two seals jammed into the hole, with the blubber piled upon them, and in an hour the dead walrus was towed to within a hundred yards of the shore, where it was left in six feet of water until the tide fell and left it stranded for the natives to flay and carry above high-water mark. Thus ended an adventure which to less cool and skilful men.would undoubtedly have had fatal results, as death must have ensued either from the attack of the walrus or from the loss of the boat, had not all concerned worked together for the common weal. Unlike the aborigines of most countries, these Innuits may at all times be relied upon when nerve and courage are demanded. Their mode of life and their surroundings school them to such things, and many a time a man’s life is saved simply by his personal resource and unflinching courage. Captain Jackson had an even narrower escape from death only a few weeks after the above occurrence. On this occasion he had been out in a larger boat with four natives, and out of a herd of seven walrus had secured two very fine ones. [Photo,

Page 513

504 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Leaving the natives on the beach to cut up the monsters, the captain took a long walk along the shore to examine and explore, as was his wont. On his return towards evening he found the Eskimos had cut up the animals, putting the heads, hides, blubber, livers, hearts, and choice cuts of the meat aboard the boat all ready for a start. It was a fine but cold afternoon, with a nice sailing breeze and a moderate sea, when, hoisting their trysail, they started for their station some miles up the coast. After going a mile or two the Eskimos broke into one of their interminable and monotonous songs, and for consolation against the dreadful howling the captain thought he would have a pipe of tobacco, requesting a hunter named Sipsu, much to his delight, to take the tiller whilst he comfortably filled up and lighted his old briar. Sipsu jabbered away, relating as well as he could former experiences of similar occupation, and, being idly interested in his chatter, Jackson allowed him to retain the tiller for a short time longer. Then, by accident, Captain Jackson dropped his pipe, which rolled among some odds and ends under a thwart. Just as he stooped to look for it a gust caught the sail, the “AMDLAKOO WAS DRAGGED ON THE BOAT IN A STATE OF UTTER COLLAPSE.” boat rose on a swell, there was a rush and a crash, and the little craft capsized, leaving the five men struggling in the water ! Luckily the boat did not sink, but bobbed keel-upward to the surface, but clear of every- thing—harpoons, lines, blubber, skins, and, worst of all, Jackson’s best rifle were gone for ever. Sipsu and Alskee could swim a little and re- gained the overturned boat, and with Jackson's help were soon astride the keel; but it was different with Myouk and Ahdlakoo, neither of whom could swim. Luckily for the former a spare bladder and a wooden box floated near him, so that by holding on to them and floundering about he kicked himself: towards the boat and was saved. Poor Ahdlakoo was not so fortunate. For a minute his deer-skin jumper and baggy pantaloons kept him above the surface, but when the air in these was dissipated he sank, with an imploring look, but without uttering a word, some ten yards from the stern of the boat. Captain Jackson saw him, but dared not venture into the water to save him, being but an indifferent swimmer himself. Again Ahdlakoo bobbed up, but still three or four yards away, and again he sank, but this time only just beneath the surface ; and as the scend of the wave washed him along Jackson was able, by a superhuman effort, to reach the hand of the drowning man as it appeared above the surface. It was sufficient; the hand was seized, and after a’ great effort poor Ahdlakoo was dragged on the boat in a state of utter collapse and supported by his comrades, or he would again have slipped off into the sea. Night was now rapidly closing in and the boat a good half-mile from land, the whole crew shak- ing with cold, but for the time being safe, although they had no means of reach- ing land, as every oar had floated away. How were they to reach the shore before they be- came benumbed by the cold and dropped off, one by one, to their doom? That was the question, and upon it they took counsel among themselves. The rudder still retained its place on the pintles, and they had the old wooden fish-trunk by whose aid Myouk was saved. With these— using them as paddles—the resourceful men managed to make the shore after an exposure of two hours, reaching their station more dead than alive.

Page 514

THE PERILS OF WALRUS-HUNTING. 505 It may be of interest to the reader to describe the method used by the natives to kill the huge walrus as he suns himself in fancied security on his ice-floe or other point of vantage. First as to the weapon used—the wvah, or walrus harpoon. It is in three separate parts— the évkak or head, the ig/imak or flexible neck, and the shaft. To the harpoon head is attached a long line, cut from the hide of the bearded seal. Entering their skin boats, the natives hunt in pairs. We will sup- pose they sight wal- Tus on an ice-floe, and, by sedulously paddling a long way round, land- ing, crawling, and other tedious ope- rations, they make a successful stalk. Now is the crucial time, and, in order not to disturb the mammoth animal until within throw- ing distance for the harpoon, the chief skill of the huntsman is re- quired. Only one advances — lying on his right side upon a piece of Polar _ bear - skin, and imitating the movements of a seal—while the other man conceals himself. Frequently this process is a very tedious one, and not seldom ends in the walrus becoming alarmed and dashing into the sea. We will suppose, however, that our Eskimo has got within range. Suddenly he leaps to his feet and with his strong right arm hurls the barbed harpoon deep into the unsuspecting animal’s body. The startled walrus immediately makes for the water, but the hunter has the long line attached to the harpoon head coiled in his left hand, and pulling on the line with all his might disputes every inch of the ground with his quarry, who bellows terrifically with rage and pain as the shaft of the harpoon in the wound works free during his struggles and falls to the ground, whilst the loose ivory and iron head, through the centre of which the line is Vol. xviii. 64, “WE DISPUTES EVERY INCH OF THE GROUN rove, is drawn crossways in the flesh like an anchor. Coil by coil the hunter has to release his line, but not until he is obliged ; in the meantime his comrade dashes forward, picks up the detached shaft, and gives it to his friend who is struggling with the rope. That being done he rushes behind the enraged animal and, when- ever he can see an opening, strives to plunge his keen lance through the inch-thick hide so as to mortaily wound it. Coil by coil goes the line from the first hunter's arm until it nears the end; but the long line finishes with a loop, and this is adroitly — slipped over the harpoon shaft, the lower end of which is planted in some hole or hollow in the ice, and the upper end seized in both hands by the ~ native, and so be- layed, as a sailor would call it, that the walrus is securely anchored. So the struggle continues until some decisive end- D." ing is arrived at; sometimes the line breaks, sometimes the harpoon head draws, and thus the animal gets away, but more often he is so deeply lanced and gashed that he becomes exhausted and dies. ‘Then there is walrus heart for supper and liver and meat for days to come. Plenty for the time is assured, and the whole community is happy. The oil from the blubber supplies the shomar, or lamp, and over it the food is cooked—for, in spite of much that is written to the contrary, the Innuit is not at all averse to cooked food, only eating it raw when his surroundings will not furnish him with means to procure a fire. Here is an interesting extract from Captain Jackson's diary: “June 1oth. In bed after another adventure with a big walrus. This morning I took Nooka and Widlemark with me in the whale-boat to shoot some geese over at

Page 515

506 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE, Bayhead, about four miles away, but as we turned in his rage to attack us again. Then he sailed to westward we met a big floe drifting let him have it through the neck into his chest. south-east, and not wishing to be turned back, I never saw a better stroke—the weapon went sailed along the south edge of it. Presently fairly home, and after a final struggle the black Widlemark, who sat in the stern-sheets beside mass gradually sank and hung plumb on the lines. me, touched my knee and pointed along the “Then we sat down and mopped the sweat off floe-edge, and there, about a couple of hundred our faces and necks, for such stiff work takes it yards away, sat ten or a dozen geese. Between out of a man. After a rest we towed the them and us, on the edge of the floe, was a monster home —a good half ton or more of great pile of broken ice, which had been meat and blubber, and a fine pair of ivories. 1 deposited there by a ‘squeeze,’ and for this I have those tusks in my ‘den’ now; they are made, dropping the sail and running the boat twenty-two inches long.” in. I jumped ashore, and was climbing up the ‘The weary months of winter and spring passed lee side of the pile of ice to reconnoitre my away, and the bright summer came, but still birds, when a great brute of a walrus suddenly Captain Jackson’s little vessel continued frozen stuck his ugly head up from the other side. in, and it was not until summer had practically We stared at each other like a couple of fools, passed that the little Yarmouth lugger shook and then I proved myself the bigger of the two herself clear of the ice. Even then, however, by firing my shot-gun at the animal, the result she was detained for a short time by an ice being that he tried to get at me, but I promptly barrier, and it was while lying in the spot shown made for the boat and jumped in. He was into in the illustration that an untoward accident the sea after me like a flash, however, and before occurred. ‘The vessel was all ready for home, Widlemark could get his harpoon from the sling and no thought given to amy more hunting, in the side of the boat he attacked us and drove when one day about noon, just as the captain his tusks through the side of the craft as if it was about to sit down to dinner in his little were paper, tearing about six feet of one of the — cabin, Oneacto, a native, rushed down to say strakes right away. a walrus had been sighted on some floe ice in “His barking and aspect were awful, and I the offing, and to obtain the loan of a £okevant don’t think any of us felt very comfortable just (rifle). After some hesitation the rifle was lent, then. Presently Widlemark got a harpoon into and five natives set off in an oomiak (large skin . the walrus, which immediately dived and ran boat), whilst Jackson sat down to his dinner, out the twenty yards of line. ‘The native had and had almost consumed his seal cutlet when barely time to hook the end joop on to a belay- he was hailed from the deck. ing-pin when off we went at full speed, towed He immediately ran up the companion, and along at about a dozen knots an hour, with the saw that the comiak was returning with only three boat heeling over to windward, because we had thrown our weight on the other gunwale in order to keep the rent in the side above water “The line was a_ tough one and held well, and_pre- sently, when the speed slackened, we hauled on it— Nookaand I— whilst Widle- mark, who was the stronger man, took Nooka’s _ har- poon and watched for the — moment when the brute “THE ‘OOMIAK’ WAS RETURNING WITH ONLY THREE MEN PADDLING VERY SLOWLY.”

Page 516

THE PERILS OF WALRUS- HUNTING. men paddling very slowly, while their cries of lamenta- tion came down from wind- ward on the breeze and pro- claimed something amiss. The canoe did little more than drift before the wind,’ so list- lessly were the men paddling. Nearer they came, and then one of them could be seen gesticulating wildly and beat- ing his breast, his cries of woe being plainly heard. At last the comiak came along- side, and it was then seen that two of the men were lying -motionless in the bottom. “‘Tokkovoh ! Tokkovoh !” (“Dead ! dead!”) wailed One- acto, pointing to his prone comrades and then wringing his hands in despair; and dead they surely were, for both had been shot through the head! The dead men were Caige- vanjand a youth named Ton- nachelling, who had been the life of the village during the captain’s long stay. The acci- dent, it appeared, occurred thus :— Whilst paddling out a seal made its appearance on the star- board bow. Oneacto, who had the rifle across his knees in the stern as he was steering, took aim at it. Before he pulled the trigger, however, the seal dived, and he was in the act of lower- ing the rifle when the charge ex- ploded, the bullet passing through Tonnachelling’s head from side to side just above the ears. After instantly killing bim it struck Caigevan, who was sitting on the next thwart, and he too fell dead without a groan. This was Oneacto’s own ac- count; but he could not ex- plain how it was that the rifle was discharged. Probably in his excitement he gripped the rifle CAIGEVAN, 0: From a} DENTALLY SHOT. | 4 } te f ow 4 TONNACHELLING, WHO WAS ALSO SHOT. From a Photo. (Photo. 5°7 harder than he should, and *so may have unconsciously pressed the trigger. Poor fellow! He was simply broken-hearted, his grief being pitiable to witness. He lay face downward on the rocks all day wailing and lamenting, and in the evening had to be dragged up to his ¢upek by main force. The dead Innuits were buried next day. They were simply rolled in seal - skins, which were firmly lashed around them with seal-thongs. The bodies were then placed on sledges and drawn by rela- tives to the adjacent hills, where they were laid to rest above ground, huge piles of rocks and stones being raised over them to protect the bodies from wild animals. The whole village turned out and formed a procession — men, women, and children howling dismally both going to and coming from the place of inter- ment. The captain remarks : “This was my first attendance at an Eskimo funeral, and I hope my last—a little of such a scene goes a long way to one used to quiet burials.” A day or two after the vessel worked herself free, and when preparing to leave after being sixteen months frozen in the crew were surprised to see a steam-vessel at the entrance of their bay. ‘This proved to be the IWindward, with Captain Peary, the American explorer, aboard. Like a true comrade the -skipper of the Ilindward gave the little English vessel a few hours’ tow, and at mid- night cast off his hawser, wish- ing Captain Jackson and _ his crew of four hands a_ safe ending to their long voyage home.

Page 517

The Story of Maungawahati. By D. W. O. Facan, or ManGapal, WHANGAREI, AUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND. Near Mangapai, on the rugged New Zealand coast, there is a precipitous headlard called Maun- gawahati, whereon no one, it is said, has set foot for a century, seeing that by virtue of an ancient Maori “tapu” it is forbidden ground. Below, set forth as nearly as possible in the old warrior's words, is the strange and tragic story of the accursed rock, as told to Mr. Fagan by his Maori friend, Puketawa. “It is no legend,” writes Mr. Fagan, “but an authentic episode of Maori history.” AWN was coming. Old Puketawa and I had been out on the waters of the harbour for a night’s hapuka fishing. The fish were lazy and did not bite well—a half-dozen were all we had to show for our night’s fishing. And now the tide had turned and set in with a strong flood. It was useless to fish longer; hapuka take the bait only on an ebb-tide. At slack-tide Puketawa wound in his line with a grunt, wrapped himself closer in his mat, and, snuggling into the stern-sheets, dropped asleep, leaving me alone with the night and the stars, Now, as the sun slowly stretched his arms to the sun. Opening his chest for a long draught of the sea-breeze, he sniffed it up with wide nostrils. ‘“ Kapai, kia- cra” (Good, welcome”), he cried ; “it is day.” Setting the sail to the sea-wind we swept on the flood-tide into the mouth of Ngatiti Creek, to where a little shell-strewn beach, shut in by grey rocks, opened out. Here we landed, col- lected wood for a fire, and put on the “billy.” Then, lighting our pipes, we sat down to wait for its boiling. Opposite us rose the rocky knoll of Maunga- wahati, tree-clad almost to the top, the grey limestone rocks—heaped one above the other in rose above the horizon, our boat lay swinging at anchor a mile or so from shore, in an amphitheatre of hills of which the water was the floor. In two places only was the saucer-like rim of black hills broken, as if bitten out: to the north, where the waters of the river flow into the harbour, and again to the east, where in ages past the im- prisoned flood cut its way to the sea, forming the harbour entrance. a curious cone-like pile —showing here and there through the dark foliage. At the apex of the cone is poised a square-shaped flat rock, having an upper surface some ten or fifteen feet in extent. The headland is joined to the mainland by a low and narrow isthmus, or neck of land, and this is cut across from side to side by a deep ditch twenty or thirty feet wide. This is Maungawahati To the left stood Bream Head; on the right, the bold headland of Manaia, hoary with age, thrust its jagged pinnacles of rock high among the stars. Round its iron foot the world- circling Pacific surges hurled themselves, to break in a long, thunderous roll, and the bass hum of their fret came back to us over the placid waters of the inner harbour. As the sun’s lower rim left the horizon there came the sunrise wind, strong and bracing, with a tang of salt in it. Old Puketawa stirred, opened his eyes, and, standing up in the boat, from a Photo, —the mysterious, the ghostly. It has been THE AUTHOR, MR. D, W. 0, FAGAN, “tapu” (forbidden ground) for over a hun- dred years. No man has set foot on its slopes in all that time, nor will again, perhaps, for ever. A great desire to. know what deed of death and darkness had caused the dread “tapu” to be put on this great crag came over me. I knew that old Puketawa could tell me, if anyone could ; so, turning to him, I said :— “Puketawa, you are old, and know many things. Tell me now the story of Maunga-

Page 518

THE STORY OF The old man looked at me long and search. ingly ere he replied :— “Wherefore wouldst thou know, Fakan ?” (so he pronounced my name); “it is not for thee, ‘Pakeha’ (white man), to know the secrets of the dead chiefs. Yet art thou, in spirit, almost as one of us of the Maori, and I will tell thee. But the tale is long. Let us eat first. Make thou the tea while I broil the fish.” After the meal we lit our pipes again, and as we lay on a bank of sweet- smelling grasses Puketawa MAUNGAWAHATI. 509 He, hearing much of Tanati’s beauty, came with three canoe-loads of warriors as his train, and with rich gifts besought his daughter of Pontere, saying, “Tam rich and powerful. Give me thy daughter to wife, so that the Ngatipas and the Ngapuhis, joining land to land, may become one and grow into a great nation.” Now, ‘Tanati loved her cousin Peira, who was also of the blood of Pontere, and would be chief after his uncle’s death. ‘This Pontere knew, but what to him was the love of a maid when told me the story of Maun- gawahati, much as I have set it down here. This is the tale, as I had it from my father’s lips, who in turn had it from the elders of the tribe. In the years i gone by, before the white man \ set foot in the land, the place ‘ bore another name, ‘“ ‘Te Mata,” and was the stronghold of the Ngatipa tribe; which ad 4 al * weighed aainst the wealth Hongi offered ? = So he gave his daughter =H to Hongi, who took her to his village at Ngyungurw. Hongi had already two wives, who had borne him six chil- dren. Judge, then, how evil was the lot of ‘Tanati, who had ever been queen among her own people. Now, at the time of the fishing, Peira, taking — his tribe has passed away and is no more numbered among those of “ Aoa-te-Aroha” (New Zealand). The manner of its passing, and the reason thereof, the tale will tell. When that befell which I shall relate, the tribe numbered some thousand souls, and possessed the land far as eye can see, from Karamea in the north even to Mangawai and the Hakeraw in the south. Here at Te Mata was the “pah” (fort), to which they came in time of war. See how the neck of land is cut by a great ditch? Their enemy must needs attack by way of the narrow neck. From the water, by reason of the steep- ness of the rock, the fortress is inaccessible. In one place only can the cliff be scaled, and then by but one at a time. Hunia Pontere was then chief, and he had one daughter, bearing the name of ‘Tanati. Beautiful exceedingly was she, with beauty like unto a summer morn, and the fame of her looks spread far through all the villages of the north, so that men talked of it. Now Pontere was a man of great avarice. His flocks and herds were as the sand for - number, yet he was not content. He was glad of Tanati’s beauty, seeing in it a means to further wealth. He thought, “ Now will I wed my daughter to a rich chief, so that for her I can claim. herds, canoes, and slaves.” Hongi Kiha, sub-chief of the Ngapuhi tribe, of the Hapu of Ngungurw, was such a chief. PUKETAWA, THE OLD MAOKE WHO TOLD MR, FAGAN THE STORY OF From al) MAUNGAWAMATI. fastest canoe, went north, with three trusty comrades, to fish in the waters of the’ Bay of Islands. On the way he landed at Ngungurw, for he yearned sore to see Tanati again. When those in the village saw him approach, Hini, the eldest wife of Hongi, taunted ‘Tanati, saying, “ Here is thy brave lover come to visit thee whilst thy husband is absent” (Hongi had been called to Hokianga by Ruaparaha, head chief of the Ngapuhi, to whom he owed fealty); “now, therefore, take thou this chance and fly with thy lover. For know Hongi, thy lord, tires of seeing thy face, and has it in mind to put thee away. Peradventure, however, Peira also tires of thee and has forgotten ?” ‘Tanati, scorning to answer, ran to the beach to meet her lover, to whom she told all her unhappiness. Peira, embracing her close, said, “Come now with me, Tanati. Be not afraid of Hongi's wrath ; thou wert ever fearless. And if thy father refuses us shelter in his pah, then will 1 gather my own followers, and, going south together, we will seek protection of the tribes of the Hakeraw.” So ‘Tanati fled with her lover, Peira. When they had returned to ‘Te Mata, lo! Pontere was dead, and Peira became chief in his place. Now when Hongi came again to his village and learned of ‘Tanati’s flight with Peira, his heart swelled with rage, and his grief was bitter on his lips. For Hini, being jealous, had lied, and Tanati was yet-very dear;to him. (hota,

Page 519

510 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “SO TANAT! FLED WITH HER LOVER, PEIRA.” He gathered his warriors, intending to march forthwith to Te Mata, to take vengeance on Peira and all the Ngatipa tribe and recover his wife, But Ruaparaha forbade him, saying, “I have other ends in view. Have patience ; wait yet awhile and keep hot thy wrath. Thy vengeance may come later.” So the months passed. ‘Tanati and Peira dwelt in love and peace here at ‘le Mata, and to them in due course a son was born. Yet did Peira well know that Hongi would seek him out ; him and his people, who had sheltered him. So he gathered all of the tribe from the outlying lands, to dwell yonder at Ngatiti within a half day's journey of the “pah.” He set spies also to give warning of Hongi’s coming. Then, when his plans were ripe, Ruaparaha swept like a whirlwind out of the north, conquer- ing and slaying, breaking and sweeping up the little chicfs and petty tribes, as a big wave sweeps us and gathers to itself the ripples of the surf, gaining further strength from each for its leap upon the rocks. So Ruaparaha rolled the tide of battle ever southward. With him marched Hongi and his men. At Mangapai Ruaparaha bade Hongi take a thousand men and march on ‘Te Mata to subdue the Ngatipa tribe and at the same time take his fill of vengeance. They came there by way of Kopua and ‘Te Tahi, where now runs the white man’s road. All was in readiness to meet them. The women and children had all been brought to the “ pah,” and food in plenty had been stored, while the men were all at their posts on the scarp beyond the ditch. ‘The Ngapuhis camped that night on the neck, just where it joins the mainland, and in the morning moved forward to the assault. Yet ere the onslaught commenced Hongi called a parley, and, stepping to the side of the ditch, cried :— “Ho! men of the Ngatipa. I seek no quarrel with you. This is the word of Ruapa- raha, my lord. To all who lay down their arms and follow him—life and freedom ; to the others —death. Choose ye, therefore. Deliver Peira Digitized ty GOOQTE Cc

Page 520

THE STORY OF and Tanati now to my vengeance and I spare your lives. If not, then death to all within the ‘ a pah. Then Peira spoke. “ Do thy worst, Hongi. Vengeance awaits thee ; come thou and take it. We of the Ngatipa love not the Ngapuhi, and rather would we die fighting than ally ourselves with them. Speak, men; is it not so?” And the warriors shouted “ Kapai” (‘Good ”). “Tt is so. We will fight them for ever and ever ere we yield.” And they laughed at Hongi, taunting him. Long and fierce raged the battle all that day. The air was black with flying spears. MAUNGAWAHATI. - 511 Loud rose the war-cries over the din of battle. “ Haru! Haru! Ngatipa, Ngatipa !” from Peira and his warriors. “ Hu-a-ha ! Hu-a-ha ! | Ngapuhi,” came the answering challenge. “Ho! scaling ladders to front.” Even as the Ngapuhis raised their ladders against the scarp and mounted, the defenders thrust them and their living burden downward and _— outward. Tottering in the air a moment, a line of clutching figures shouting defiance, the warriors swayed and fell backward into the ditch, whence few rose again. Abandoning the useless “ladders, “THEN PEIRA SPOKE. ‘DO THY WORST, HONGT. VENGEANCE AWAITS THER.'" the enemy mounted on each other's shoulders, a living pyramid of men, up and over which their comrades climbed to the assault. Thrust through with spears or brained by clubs, they fell by scores; many also of the Ngatipa died. Fora moment the enemy gained a footing on the wall. Peira, shouting his war- bigitized by GOOR le Cc

Page 521

Ae, 25 cry, hastened to the threatened spot. Hearten- ing his men for a rally, they swept all before them into the ditch. Down crashed the living pyramid, heaped pell-mell amid the corpses of their comrades, and the exultant Nygatipa warriors leapt down into the ditch, to slay the living ere they could extricate themselves from the heaving, groaning mass of dying and of dead. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ae ean % ae ee See. hi <* cae Fs we a — “SWIMMING IN SINGLE FILE, THEIR WEAPONS IN THELK TEETH." “Haru! haru! Ngatipa!” rose the shouts of triumph, The sun was now setting, and Hongi drew off his men from the attack, camping within a spear-throw. Many had died on both sides. Half of the defenders had been killed, so that there remained scarce two hundred to renew the defence on the morrow, Digitized ty GOORTE Cc

Page 522

y THE STORY OF That night, an hour before the dawning, the tide being at full flood, Hong ordered a hundred, chosen warriors from his band to swim silently to a little ledge of rock, just within the line of defence, and, climbing the cliff one by one, to hide in the long reeds and await his signal. “When you shall hear me raise the cry of the sea-hawk, then rush from your ambush and attack the Ngatipa in the rear,” he commanded. Even so it was done; the warriors, anoint- ing their bodies with oil, so that in swimming they should make no noise, slipped like eels into the water. Swimming in single file, their weapons in their teeth, they scaled the cliff, reached the bed of reeds, and hid themselves. ‘The watchers heard them not--perchance they were weary from the fighting and slept. With the morning Hongi moved again to the attack, leading his men in a fierce onslaught. In the thickest of the fight there rose high and shrill over the din of battle the sea-hawk’s cry. The watchers in the reeds heard it, broke from their ambush, and, fiercely attacking the few and weary Nygatipa in the rear, drove them from the wall. Loud and joyous swelled the Ngapuhi war- ery—“ Hu-a-ha! Hu-a-ha!” Then Hongi bade them “Slay, slay!—man, woman, child, and suckling babe. Only Peira and ‘T'anati ye shall take alive.” It was done. ‘The men died grimly, fighting to the last. Peira was overpowered ; with his arm broken by a club-stroke, he was borne down and captured. ‘Tanati also was made prisoner. And still the work of blood went on. ‘The water was red all around the headland, and blood trickled down the rocks. Nor prayer of shrieking woman nor wailing child found mercy. Some few hid in rocky crevices, and these the- Ngapuhi burnt where they hid, firing piles of brushwood at the entrance of the caves. Only ten of the maidens were spared as slaves. Then when Peira was brought bound before him Hongi taunted him, saying :— “Now I have thee, O mine enemy. Was it sweet, thy little year of love? But now comes the hour of payment, Peira.” But Peira answered no word. Then Hongi, with one blow of his axe, clove his breast, and, tearing Peira’s still-beating heart from his body, tramp‘ed it there in the dust at ‘Tanati’s feet. Over ‘Tanati there came a madness of wrath. Breaking from those who held her she sprang at Hongi. “Dog! murderer! man of blood!” she cried, and struck him twice with her hand across the mouth ere those in charge of her could again secure her. Vol. xviii.—65. MAUNGAWAHATI. 513 Then spoke Hongi. “Woman, for this insult thou shalt die. I had it in mind to spare thee for thy beauty’s sake. But for this thou shalt lie bound beside dead Pcira till thou diest. Ho! men, bind her hand and foot, and lay her with the dead man on the flat of the topmost rock.” Yet, ere it was done, ‘lanati spake again, saying :-— “ Hongi, for this boon of death I thank thee. On me comes the spirit of the ‘Tohunga’ (priests or wizards). Hearken thou and all. Upon thee I put ‘ Makutu? (a species of curse). Ere the third: sun rise shalt thou meet thy death, thy wives and children also, so that none of thy seed shall dwell in the land any more for ever.” Then they bore her away and laid her, fast bound, on the flat rock that caps the pile, and beside her the corpse of her lover. ‘Through the night they heard her wailing for the dead Peira.’ ‘Twelve hours she lived. The sea-hawks, seeing her bound and helpless, tore her tender flesh with their cruel bills. ‘The people heard her cries throughout the night, but In the morning she was dead. That night also the captive Ngatipa maidens sang a funeral dirge for the dead. ‘They raised the wailing cry of our women, and the voice of their crying went up in lamentation to the stars. ‘The Ngapuhi warriors, hearing it, called the place Maungawahati—the breaking of the tree. For there the tree of the Ngatipa tribe was broken, and was uprooted for ever from the land. On the morrow, when they brought forth the captive maids, lo! one bore in her arms a six-weeks man-child. Whereat Hongi was wroth that even one should have escaped the slayers. “ Woman,” he cried, ‘ whose is the child ?” She answered, “It is mine; in the slaying I hid it yonder in the reeds.” Hongi gazed hard at her. “thou liest |” Then another of the women, wishing to gain favour, said, ‘She lies, lord. It is the son of Peira, that Tanati bore him. When all was lost she bade ‘Taita take the boy and hide him till the trouble was past.” Hongi laughed a cruel laugh and commanded his men to dash out the child’s brains on the rock. But Pirihi of Kaiwaka cried, “I will not suffer it. Look to it, Hongi, that the child receives no hurt. We have had enough of blood. I will take the boy, and he shall be given in charge of my women.” So Pirihi took the boy and named him Puketawa (a child of blood) ; and he grew to manhood in Pirihi’s village. “Girl,” he said,

Page 523

514 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Two days Hongi camped there, resting his army. On the second night he stood with certain others in the bright moonlight, on the same rocky ledge to which his men had swum. Suddenly, by reason of the working of Tanati’s “ Makutu,” a long arm, thick asa man’s leg, rose from out the water and caught him by the feet. He shrieked with fear, striking at it with his Then the sickness departed without further hurt to anyone. The child Puketawa grew to manhood in Pirihi’s village, and took to wife a Ngapuhi woman. When he reached manhood he climbed to the flat rock there, and taking therefrom the whitened bones of his father and mother placed “R SECOND TENTACLE TOOK HIM ROUND THE MIDDLE AND DREW HIM, STILL SHRIFKING, BENEATH THE WAVE.” “mere,” and calling on his terror-stricken men for help, when lo! a second tentacle, rising like the first from the dark water, took him round the middle and drew him, still shrieking, beneath the wave. For a moment the water was lashed to foam ; and even as the others ran to help their chief they marked the ripples raised by the monster as it sped away down the harbour. That night also a_ sickness came to Ngungurw, and, behold, ere morning the two wives of Hongi and his six children were dead. them in the hollow beneath the rock, and there they remain to this day. He was wise with all the wisdom of our race, and he it was that placed his “tapu” on the spot, that no foot of man should tread it thenceforth for ever. That man was my father —I am named Puketawa after him. And now the story is told, Fakan. But come; there remains but an hour of flood, and if we would reach Mangapai ere ebb of tide we must go. Digitized by Google

Page 524

THE WIDE WORLD: In Other Magazines. THE NOVICE SKIS DRUNKENLY AND SPRAWLS INAKTISTIC ALLY. HOW NOVICES “SKI.” S arule the beginner spends his first hour or two in A carefully picking himself ep and trying to stand upright ; and since it is probable that he progresses— between falls—some three or four yards only from where he started, he may be forgiven if he acquires consider- able doubt on the subject of ski-ing as a means of locomotion. It sounds easy enough to place the feet parallel, one foot a little in advance of the other, lean well forward, and not trust to the pole too much. But one’s feet firmly insist upon turning out at an obtuse angle, and as regards one foot being in front of the other, that always does happen —not in the precise way intended, but in the way which priduces, after five yards of drunken wobbling, an unbeautiful and inartistic sprawl.— FROM “C. B. FRY’'S MAGAZINE.” A SAILCYCLE. > YCLING with sail attachment is, perhaps, the nearest approach to flying attainable to the average person. Twenty miles an hour (not downhill) is possible with a favouring breeze, says “* THe Captain,” from whose pages we reproduce a picture of the road craft in question, and the rigging is simplicity itself!’ The mast —a nine-foot bamboo—is securely fastened on to the frame of the machine with strong straps, and the sail is THE ROAD CRAFT ABOUT TO START. controlled by cords attached to each end of a boom passing under the seat pillar. The sail can thus be easily set to any wind, the small slit in it enabling one to see ahead. A WESTERN UTOPIA, a‘ HEN Miss Emma Sheppard followed in the wake of a crowd of speculative Westerners to the town of Florence, South Dakota, she found herself the sole woman in the place. Her original project of start- ing a school naturally fell to the, ground for lack of pupils, so, being an adept cook as well as a good scholar, she resolved to open a restaurant. The first day its doors were opened it was filled with a hungry throng that, having hitherto subsisted on makeshift meals, appreciated to the full the daintily-cooked dishes placed before them. Before Miss Sheppard these rough men bowed.down as before a superior being. They placed the entire manage- ment of the town in her hands. She directed public works, made laws, levied taxes; in a word, was mayor and sole magistrate of the place. Recently she married. To what extent she will permit her consort to have a voice in civic affairs remains to be seen.—‘* TiT- Bits.” ENGLISH AS SHE IS WROTE. *T°HE Indian postal authorities receive not a few whimsical documents from subordinates : ** Your Honour may be right, I may be wrong ; I may be right and Honour wrong, let Honour give me back the fine, and then at day of resurrection, when all hearts will be open if I am wrong, I will most gladly, sir, return your Honour the money.” When called upon to explain why he had not signed a money-order issued by him, a sub- postmaster replied: ‘‘ The strong headache which I felt that day made me somewhat epileptic in my bodily sistem, and would not allow me to recover my senses, which were three sheets in the wind before closing the mail, which I did anyhow or other.” — J. HW. SETTLE, IN THE GRAND MAGAZINE. WHAT THE LIGHT- NING DID, SOUTII AFRI- CAN cyclist, while riding near Heidelberg, in the Transvaal, was struck by lightning. ‘* The current,” he — says, ‘made a hole in the hack of my head and passed over my back andarms. My clothes were nearly burned off my body; one shoe was taken clean off. The drums of both ears are broken, The conse- quence is that I am very deaf. I send you a photograph of my- self taken after the accident. Tam fairly well now, although I had to keep my bed for six months. The only thing that troubles me isdeafness and noises in my head. 1 consider it a most wonderful escape from sudden death."— FROM CURIOSITIES, “STRAND MAGA- ZINE.”

Page 525

Odds and Ends. A Remarkable Spring—The ‘ Rock City "—Where Beggars Ride, etc. =ee—) HE little town of Cawza, in the mountains of Anatolia, possesses a spring of sulphur water which acts in a most puzzling fashion. ‘The spring issues from the base of a mountain, almost in the centre of the town, and its peculiarity consists in the fact that for fifty minutes the water emerges icy cold, and then changes almost without warning to very hot, bubbling up with much steam and noise. ‘This also continues for exactly fifty minutes ; then the stream becomes cold again. The water of this curious hot-and-cold spring is much esteemed place and Salina. ‘The photograph conveys an excellent idea of the general appearance of the “city” itself, the stones or rocks com- posing it being slablike in form, rising upwards in tiers, and reminding one of a yeast-risen dough loaf or cake. The height of the rocks varies, from small stones to monsters of fifteen and twenty feet in height, or more. The figures of the ladies seated thereon, and of the horse in the background, give an idea as to size. No definite scientific explanation can be given as to the origin of this extraordinary natural curiosity, but from the lava-like appearance of A REMARKAULE SPRING IN ANATOLIA—FOK FIFTY MINUTES THE WATER EMERGES ICE-COLD, AND THEN SUDDENLY From aj locally, and is greatly used both for drinking and bathing. The wonderful formation or freak of Nature shown on the following page, and known locally as “ Rock City,” is situated in a valley about four or five miles from the town of Minneapolis, in Kansas, U.S.A., between that CHANGES TO VEKY HOT FOR ANOTHER FIFTY MINUTES! [Phote. the “loaves,” and the crater-like formation of the surrounding land, it may be assumed that it is due to volcanic or seismic influences of pre- historic times. As, however, indications point to the fact that portions of the vast prairies once formed an ocean bed, an additional mystery is attached vo the origin of ‘ Rock City.”

Page 526

517 ODDS AND ENDS. ‘oj0y B mos ‘aRUIVEd AHL JO HIGGIW BHL NI SYHISNOM BNOLS BSAHL JO BONASAYd AHL HOA NSAID Bd NVI NOLLYNVTAXA DIdLLNAINS HLINI4HA ON—SVSNVM 4O |, ALID NDOM,, TN4NGNOM AHL

Page 527

518 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. WHERE BEGGARS RIDE—THE VERSIAN MENDICANT USUALLY TRAVELS UPON A DUNKEY, OFTEN MAKING VERY LONG JOURNEYS IN THIS WAY. From a) “Tf wishes were horses beggars might ride,” says the old saw ; but in Persia beggars actually do ride, although they patronize the humble donkey instead of his more aristocratic brother. How they manage to obtain these useful animals, or even to exist themselves, passes European comprehension, but the fact remains that they do both. The Persian tramp, astride his donkey, often makes very long journeys—even as far as Meshed or Mecca, whence he returns with the proud title of “ Hadji.” Useful as the donkey is to his mendicant master, the latter usually treats him in a most brutal fashion, a length of chain being a frequent substitute for a whip when the unfortunate animal needs ‘ encouragement.” The curious photograph next reproduced is sent by a reader in Java. He writes as follows : “Notwithstanding the many vic- tims claimed every year by the crocodiles which infest our rivers, these horrible brutes are regarded by the natives of Sumatra, Java, and Borneo as more or less sacred, and they will endure a great deal before they take steps to put an end to the reign of terror caused by the rapacity of one particular ) brute. When a crocodile has killed several people belonging | to a village, the elders of the place meet together and decide to make him a ‘tempeh,’ or Offering, in the hope of appeas- ing his anger— or, more likely, his appetite. This offering usually consists of a basket filled with yellow and red rice, fish, boiled eggs, and sweets. Several - burning candles are stuck in the basket, which is then = decofated with flowers, placed upon a small raft, and set adrift in the river. If no one else falls a victim to the crocodile, this curious charm is held to have ‘worked’; but if another tragedy occurs, the village medicine - man decides that the offering has failed and that strong measures are necessary. A monkey or a hen is used as a bait, attached to a stout rope, and ere long the saurian pays the penalty of his crimes.” (Photo. A JAVANESE “CROCODILE OFFERING"—A BASKET OF DAINTIES IS SET AFLOAT TO AN/EASE THE ANGEK OF A MOKE THAN USUALLY TROUBLESOME MAN-EBATER. From a Photo, Cc VO Digitized by ScOOQ le i

Page 528

5 ODDS AND ENDS. 519 A SCHOOL OF DURLLING IN PARIS, WHERE GENTLEMEN ARE INSTRUCTRD HOW TO CONDUCT THEMSELVES ON THE “FIELD OF HONOUR” —BULLRTS MADE OF WAX ARE USED TO HRIGHTEN THE RRALISM, Although duelling has long been laughed out of court in this country, our Continental friends by no means share our opinion of this method ‘of arranging disputes and settling affairs of honour. Happily, the French duel, at least, is usually carried through without any serious injury to either combatant, but nevertheless it is regarded with very grave consideration, and every detail has to be attended to in the most punctilious manner. In order, therefore, that gentlemen who may be called upon to defend themselves at the point of the pistol may have some preparation and training for the ordeal, there has been established in Paris a “School of Duelling,” which is frequented only by the é//e, one prominent member being ex-Presi- dent Casimir - Perier. ‘This re- markable. academy is conducted by Dr. de Villers, and combats frequently take place there by way of practice. In these mimic duels wire masks are worn to protect the face and bullets made of wax are used, so that no injury may be sus- tained by the combatants. In all other respects, however, the con- duct of the affair is carried through as on the “field of honour,” so that when the time comes—if it ever does come—for the scholars to take part in a serious duel they may acquit themselves with credit to themselves and disaster to their adversary — although this latter sms is sor a rive or cowrars-nin From a Photo, by Gribaytdoff, Paris. The heap seen in the middle of the next phutograph looks like a pile of curtain-rings ; but, as a matter of fact, it consists of rings of bread tied on strings to keep them together. This is a very common form of “loaf” in Roumania. ‘The baker just puts down a dirty old piece of sacking anywhere that takes his fancy and dumps his stock-in-trade upon it. The rings are sold to the peasants by the dozen—no extra charge being made for the dust and dirt the bread gathers up while exposed for sale. T A BAKER'S “SHOP” 1 A—THE BREAD IS MADE IN RINGS, TIED TOGETHER WITH STRING, AND DUMPED DOWN ON point is not of much importance. From a) THE PAVEMENT FOR SALE Photo,

Page 529

520 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. The novel ‘deed’ has been duly registered and filed in the Supreme Court of Hong-Kong, as will be seen by the endorsements : ‘This is the will referred to in the joint declaration of Li Sum Po and Lau Sheung, declared this 4th day of September, 1906, before me, J. H. Kemp, a Commissioner, etc. Produced this 4th day of September, 1906. A. Seth, Official Administrator.’ The characters running downwards are Chinese rhymes. The will proper begins where the characters run hon zontally and continues on the back. Here is a translation: ‘Loy Chenk am the maker of this will. As since the seventh day of the sixth moon I have been taken seriously ill with an ever-returning fever which occasion- ally frightens me, therefore at this time I am willing to give power to my son Yuk Shan and his mother Chu Shi to personally re- ceive for their use the sum of two thousand two hundred dollars which is deposited with the Siu Shing Loong and which is to be allot- ted to me by order of my deceased father Nam : Kwong, and also the sum of seven hundred Froma A WILL WRITTEN ON A FA Vhot dollars deposited by me in the said shop for buying goods. This is the proof. Witnesses : A Hong-Kong reader writes: “I send you a Li Sum Po, Lau Sheung.’” Such a will as photograph of a Chinese will written on a fan. this, we imagine, must be well-nigh unique. [twoxr Ice & . SEA se Sta Panis oF ~ SWALRu s-! ah g RUNNING THE ‘ cc 2 te BLOCKADE The TRAGEDY OFA. EA-HEDGEHOG Wi Seiss MOUNTAIN i Four on A RAFT \ ~ Wnat HapPexeD on CARPENTER CREEK seaanibiti ‘Tne SmERIFF & THE HAT BEFELL 7 "Bao Men” “KATHLEEN”. Te Rock Lity HAPTER OF ; BS m f AcciDENTS An INDIAN “ \ ™ ‘. SnerRvock HoLmeg <A Laby tN Far Fist ON THE FRONTIER IN CENTRAL AFRICA Story oF é e MAuNGAWAHITI — ‘Tue VaNisHED ISLANDS Le =a at THE MAP-CONTENTS OF “THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE,” WHICH SHOWS AT A GLANCE THE LOCALITY OF BACH ARTICLE AND NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURE IN THIS NUMBER.

Page 530

Page 531

“YELLING DID NO GOOD, BUT I KEPT ON--I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF.” (SEE PAGE 526.)

Page 532

THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XVIII. MARCH, 1907. No. 108, Sergeant Daley’s Ordeal. By T. R. Porter. It is safe to say that very few men have undergone the experience here related and lived to tell the tale. by the Cheyenne Indians while out scouting. Indian fighter, and decided to put him to the torture. Sergeant Daley, of the Fifth Cavalry of the United States Army, was captured They knew and hated him as a redoubtable How he suffered, and how his comrades rescued and avenged him, is graphically told below. == URING the many years of Indian ! rt warfare, when the whites and reds were struggling for possession of the immense territory lying between the Missouri River and the Pacific Ocean, countless thrilling encounters occurred, and hundreds of soldiers, settlers, and prospectors lost their lives in their fights with the Indians. Not one of those who escaped this fate, how- ever, came closer to death than did Sergeant James Daley, of the Fifth Cavalry, United States Army, who was captured by the Indians, tor- tured in different ways, and finally bound to a stake and a fire built around him, where he was slowly roasted. But the sergeant escaped from his fearful predicament, and while his legs, from the knees down, are covered with scars, he continued to serve in the army until he was retired and pensioned. He is probably the only man in America, if not in the entire world, who ever passed through such a fearful ordeal and lived to tell the tale. Before the Indians were finally “corralled” and placed on permanent _ reservations there were continual out-+ breaks, and regularly every year the Sioux, the Cheyennes, the Apaches, and other fierce border tribes went on the war- path. When these risings occurred, before long there were many new scalps dangling from the lodge-poles of the Indian tepees, and many bereaved homes and devastated settlements. The Omahas, the Winnebagoes, the Pawnees, and other friendly tribes acted as buffers for the Vol. xviii. —66. SERGEANT DALEY, WHO HERE DESCRIBES HOW HE WAS TORTURED BY RED INDIANS. From a Photo, white settlers, and often stood between them and the wilder Indians until the arrival of the cavalry from some military station caused the rebellious Indians to gallop back to their hunting-grounds or to make for the mountains, where they could not be followed. Scattered around over Nebraska, Kansas, Wyoming, the Dakotas, and other Western States, the Government placed forts, at each of which forces of cavalry and infantry were maintained to protect the settlers from these fierce border savages. At one of these posts Sergeant Daley was stationed. During the ten years pre- ceding 1876, when the great outbreak culminated in the famous massacre of General Custer and his entire com- mand by the combined Sioux and Cheyennes, there was con- tinual warfare, the war - path being trod by some tribe every day in all those years. ‘The Sioux and the Cheyennes stood about on an equality for cruelty and ferocity, and both tribes easily headed the list for fighting ability. It was with the Cheyennes that Sergeant Daley had the terrible experience I am about to relate. ‘The Cheyennes’ country was in Wyoming and Western Nebraska, and they were more used to the mountains than any of the other tribes on the great plains ; in fact, their territory bordered on the Rockies to the west, and here they took refuge when the soldiers got after them and they became hard pressed. In 1875 the Cheyennes and the Sioux were both “out” and doing all the devilry they

Page 533

524 THE WIDE could. Small settlements were being attacked, settlers killed, live stock run off, and scalps taken—in short, Western Kansas and Nebraska were being ravaged by the “red death.” ‘The soldiers from different forts were promptly started after the Cheyennes, who were doing most of the devilment, and it was Sergeant “WITH THEM THEY CARRIED DALEY, WITH HIS HANDS BOUND TOGETHER AND HIS FEET TIED UNDER THE BELLY OF HIS HORSE,” Daley’s squadron that first got in touch with the Indians. Daley was quite a noted scout as well as a good soldier, and often he acted as chief scout to the Fifth Cavalry, to which regiment he belonged. He could follow a trail when the ordinary plainsman was at a loss, and he knew all the tricks of the Indians at covering a retreat or advance. Therefore, when the Cheyennes had given the Fifth Cavalry the “slip,” on this particular campaign in 1875, Sergeant Daley and two troopers were sent out ahead to locate the enemy. Leaving the command in camp on one of the tributaries of the Platte River, on the edge of WORLD MAGAZINE, Wyoming and Nebraska, Daley and his two companions pushed on in advance, and, only too successful in their search for the Cheyennes, they actually rode into an ambush which the wily red men had set for them. After a brisk interchange of shots the two troopers were killed and Daley was captured. Soldiers from different forts were out by this time, closing in upon the red- skins, and the Cheyennes were on the run for their mountain strongholds, where no white men had _ ever yet dared to fol- low them. After the brush with the three scouts they kept up their rapid march westward, and with them they carried Daley, with his hands bound together and his feet tied under the belly of his horse. The Indians were in high good humour. They had taken a number of scalps without losing a_ single one themselves, and they had given the border a scare from which it would take many months for the whites to recover. Lastly, they were ex rowfe back to their own villages with a prisoner, who would be put to the torture—not a common prisoner, but the noted scout who had often followed their bands and annoyed them seriously when other scouts had failed. He was well known and hated by the Cheyennes, and, while Daley did not know what form of death he was to face, he knew enough of his captors to know that it was death in some cruel and lingering shape that lay before him. Travelling at their best speed, it was a week before the Cheyennes reached their villages on the edge of the Big Horn Mountains in Wyoming.

Page 534

SERGEANT In ordinary times their tepees were pitched along the small streams much farther east; but when the fighting days came, the squaws, papooses, and the old men were sent close to the moun- tains for safety, while the braves went forth to war. There was great rejoicing in the villages when the warriors returned, bringing scalps and a prisoner, and leaving no member of the band back on the prairie with a white man’s bullet through his heart. Especially was there re- joicing that there was a prisoner to torture. ‘That night a great feast and scalp dance was held, and Sergeant Daley, tied to a tree, found himself close toa pole from the top of which dangled a bunch of grisly scalps. The squaws reviled him, spat upon him, and threw dirt and filth in his face, while the children imitated their elders and did likewise. But otherwise the white man was uninjured—in fact, he was given buffalo meat to eat. ‘The Indians did this with a devilish refinement of cruelty—his strength must be kept up so that he could stand the torture longer and so afford them more amuse- ment. The sergeant knew this full well, but he ate the meat nevertheless. He also wanted his strength kept up, in order that he might have a_ better chance of escape if the opportunity presented it- self—or if he could make an opportunity for himself. Meanwhile, when the three scouts did not return to the camp, additional men were sent out, fol- lowed their trail, and found the bodies of the men who had been with Daley in the ambush, It was plain what had hap- pened — Daley was a prisoner in the hands of the Cheyennes. The scouts rode back to camp at once and told their story. ‘The officers held a council, and be- cause Daley was a general favourite and a first-class all-round man it was determined to follow the Indians right into their mountains in a desperate attempt to release him if DALEY’S ORDEAL. 525 he was alive, or to avenge him if he had been killed. ‘The soldiers could not travel so fast as did the Cheyennes, who were practically without baggage save a few pounds of jerked buffalo meat for each man, but nevertheless they made rapid progress. ‘The day after his arrival at the camp, which was placed beside a little stream in a shallow canyon, Daley was taken out to a flat about a mile square and made to “run the gauntlet.” He was told by the Indians that if he succeeded in reaching the other end of the level course without being captured he would be freed. “Did I run?” says Daley, in telling of his trials. ‘Well, 1 know I did. None of the Indians had weapons—just sticks and switches —and they were scattered here and there over the course T had to traverse. ‘They stripped me naked, save for a breech-cloth, and started me off with a cut from a long switch. “As I dashed past him every Indian gave me a slash or acut. Several times I was knocked down by the brutal blows, and the switches

Page 535

526 THE WIDE WORLD drew blood every time I was hit. kept on running. “ How those red fiends did yell and laugh and enjoy the sport! It was great fun for them, but you may be sure I didn’t enjoy itone bit. After I had got past most of the Indians and had finished about half the course, my hopes began to rise. I had the promise that if I reached the other end in safety I would be freed. With that bait before me I ran as I had never done before, thinking that every stride brought me nearer life and liberty. “As I neared the other end my strength began to fail me. The run of about a mile and the many blows I had received were telling on me, and I could scarcely stagger. But my nearest foe was a long distance behind me, and I was just beginning to believe myself safe when suddenly, out from the very point for which I was making, a dozen fresh Indians jumped. They ran up, grabbed me, threw me down, and tied me. Then I saw that it had been arranged that way from the beginning, and that I had never had a single chance. The promise of freedom had been made me in order that I might put forth every effort in running, and so furnish amusement for my fiendish captors.” Well-nigh heart-broken, Daley was taken back to the camp and kept for two days more, receiving the best of attention from the Indians, but given no opportunity whatever of escaping. He received the best food in the camp, but was watched by eyes like a hawk’s. The Cheyenne camp was so far within the Indian country, and so secure, that no sentries were placed around it. No white man had ever got so far from the settlements, and the Indians felt no anxiety as to their safety. The evening of the third day of Daley’s stay in the village came round, and then the un- fortunate sergeant’s troubles really began. ‘The ordeal of the “gauntlet” was only a trifle to what was still in store for him. “All that day the squaws had been jabbering away like a flock of magpies,” says Daley. “They laughed and jeered at me continually, but they gave me plenty to eat and drink. I wondered dimly when they would kill me, and how, but I couldn’t speak Cheyenne and had no way of guessing. But I knew it would be in some awful way. “After sundown on that third day I saw the squaws collecting a lot of wood in one place. There were dried grass, broken branches, and But still I some pretty solid-looking chunks and stumps. . But I thought nothing of it, imagining that they were going to build a bonfire for a dance at night. “Then dark came on, and I was not per- MAGAZINE. mitted to spend much time in speculating as to what was to be the end. 1 was taken over to a little, live oak tree about six inches in diameter and firmly tied to it, with my hands behind and above my head. My feet were left free, but the strips of deer-skin were wound around my body several times down to the waist. Before I was tied up I was stripped naked, as when I ran the gauntlet, “Then the Indians piled a little stack of grass around me, and a thrill of horror swept over me. I knew now what these preparations meant. I was to be burned alive at the stake ! “ ] nearly fainted when I realized the truth ; then I gritted my teeth and determined that this jeering crowd of redskin demons should not get me to whine and cry; I would go through it like a man and die like a soldier. “That's all right to talk about, but I sang a different song when the little flames began to curl around me. But it took some time to work up to that. “The Indians built a big fire a few yards from me and began a dance, gradually working themselves into a frenzy. Every now and again some big buck would grab a firebrand and hurl it at me. Sometimes it hit the mark on my bare flesh and sometimes it didn’t; but at that stage of the game I did not scream, for when the brands struck they fell right away. “Finally, however, one of these brands set alight to the little stack of dried grass that had been piled around me. ‘The flames did not last long, but they gave me a taste of what was coming. And long before even the grass flames died but I was yelling at the top of my voice. “But that was tame. Next a squaw grabbed a brand and, running up to me, raked it across my breast and up and down both legs. “Then a buck took his knife and, cutting under one of the muscles of my breast, inserted a dry piece of pine which stuck out on either side of the tendon. Another cut was made in one thigh and a similar piece of pine inserted. Then both ends of both the sticks were fired and burned slowly into the flesh. “Yelling did no good, but I kept on—I couldn’t help myself. “When these sticks finally burned themselves out I was about dead. At least, I thought I was, but they roused me up, gave me some water to drink, threw water over me, and started in on their fiendish fun again. “This time they were in earnest, as I soon saw. They piled the real wood around my feet, some twelve or fourteen inches away, and lighted it. The blaze did not touch me, but the heat did. I was slowly blistered while those Indians danced. around jme and had all

Page 536

SERGEANT sorts of fun. Every Indian in the camp scemed to be there, and the yelling and howling made a tremendous up- roar. ‘They piled on more and more wood, and things began to get mighty un- comfortable higher up, while the lower part of my legs was already horribly blistered. “Then — just as I was praying for death to come quickly -— there came a shout which didn’t sound like the Indian yell at all. It was followed by a fusillade of shots, and next moment, charg- ing like a whirl- wind through the little stream, came the dear old Fifth Cavalry, pistols in one hand, sabres in the other, and their bridles on the galloping horses’ necks. I could have shrieked with joy at the sight. “The startled Indians scattered in all direc- tions, while the pistols kept cracking and the sabres whirling to right and left. The surprise was complete, and the redskins, caught without weapons, had to bolt. Many of them didn’t bolt at all, but dropped in their tracks, sabred or shot. “Some of our boys had at once kicked the fire around me to pieces and cut the skins binding me to the tree. ‘Then I dropped help- lessly to the ground, for my legs were in such a condition that I could not stand, and I was about three parts dead from the torture to which I had been subjected. “Meanwhile my comrades avenged my suffer- ings to the full. ‘hey burned the village, destroyed the buffalo meat which had been prepared for the winter, took away all the weapons they could find, shot what horses were in sight, and then, tying me on a horse, started back to civilization in Jess time than it takes to tell of it. “T was in bed for months and months. DALEY’S ORDEAL. 527 “THE STARTLED INDIANS SCATTERED UN ALL. UIKECTIONS.” It was a very long time before I put my feet in stirrups again.” After discovering the trail of the Indians where Daley had been captured and the two soldiers killed, the cavalry had stuck to it doggedly until the Indian country was reached. Scouts in advance of the main body discovered the Indian'village where Daley was a prisoner, and arrangements were made to make a night attack. This was to be made just before day- light, but when the scouts reported that Daley was actually being tortured the charge was made at once, with the result described. It was never known just how many Indians were killed that night, but the number was large. ‘The soldiers did not lose a man. Sergeant Daley, in time, left the army and was awarded a pension. Nowadays he likes to wander around the forts and tell stories of the time when he was a trooper. Sometimes a new- comer will doubt the old veteran’s word, and then, with a grim smile, he will show the terrible scars the fire left on him that never-to-be- forgotten night when the Cheyentes put him to the torture.

Page 537

On the Frontier in Central Africa. By Brever-Major R. G. T. Bricut, C.M.G. An interesting description of the author's experiences during three and a half years’ boundary work in Central Africa, during which he traversed remote regions and visited rnany little-known tribes. FTER the inhabited country was left behind game became very plentiful. Large herds, consisting of hundreds of hartebeest and zebra in smaller numbers, were seen every day. together with many different kinds of antelopes. Taons were often heard during the night, and paid a couple of very unwelcome visits to our camps. One night a member of the expedition, bring- ing down fresh supplhes of food from the Uganda Railway, was asleep in_ his tent. Awaking suddenly he became aware that some large animal (which proved to be a lion) had struck against its side. Immediately afterwards the brute seized a porter and carried him out of the camp, but fortunately did not drag him far, as, scared by the noise and firing of guns, it dropped him and made off. The lion's intended victim, although terribly scared, was not very badly mauled, and after his wounds were dressed he was sent to hospital, where he soon recovered. The curious part of the story is that the man’s name was Simba, the Ki-Swabili for “lion,” and that this was the second time he had been seized and mauled by one of his name- sakes. His black companions, in discussing the affair with the victim, gave him the consoling opinion that sooner or later he was bound to be eaten by a lion. The second visit took place several months later, in a small camp which was almost sur- rounded by the tents of the caravan, and was further protected by a zareba, inside which there were some cattle. It was early in the morning, the fires had burnt low, and the sentries were asleep, when suddenly a loud roar was heard in the middle of the camp. Although it was piteh- dark, the rudely-awakened sentries commenced wild and rapid firing in the direction of the noise. As the alarmed men threw wood on to the fires and they burnt up, it appeared at first sight as if no harm had been done. No one, apparently, had been shot by the sentries’ fusillade, and the cattle, although they had Il. Major Bright illustrates his articles with some striking photographs. broken out of the zareba and were standing about shaking with fear, seemed unhurt. On attempting to drive one of the cows back to the zareba, however, it was found that she had been seized by the lion underneath the shoulder. Although the animal's wounds appeared to be only superficial, she died a few days later, probably from blood-poisoning. Occasionally a few wandering natives were seen, belonging to the Wa-Ndorobo, a poor tribe, owning but few cattle and flocks and living principally on game. These people are skilful hunters, and kill game with bows and poisoned arrows as well as by trapping and snaring. Alter having killed an animal the hunters eat a certain amount of the meat raw and then slightly cook the rest over fires, con- suming the whole then and there. After this Gargantuan feast they probably eat little or nothing for several days, when hunger once more makes itself manifest ; then they go hunt. ing again, apparently spending their whole existence in alternate periods of semi-starvation and utter repletion, Several attempts were made to get some of these queer people to travel with us as guides; they were well fed and small presents were given them to inspire confidence, but after a day or two they invariably dis- appeared and were not seen again. ‘They were clever at imitating the noises of animals, and could make the peculiar barking cry of the zebra to perfection ; in fact, by this means they were seen to stop animals that had been dis- turbed and induce them to come back, imagining they were about to rejoin their herd. A member of the Wa-Ndorobo is seen in the photograph at the top of the next page. A couple of months after we had seen the last of the Victoria Nyanza —for which no one was sorry, as none of the Europeans had traversed its unhealthy shores without an attack or two of fever—a steep escarpment of about twelve hundred feet was encountered, and had to be descended. The view from the edge of Isuria, as the escarpment_was called, was a fine one

Page 538

and extended for many miles, as far as a dim line of moun- tains on the horizon. Looking downwards, where in places the slope was almost a precipice, the coun- try appeared to bea flat plain, with the trees looking from the great height like tiny dots, while the many antelopes graz- ing below looked almost like flies. When reached, however, the plain was not so flat as it had appeared from the top of the heights ; but was a gently un- dulating country dotted with small hills, thickly over- grown with trees and undergrowth, —_alter- nated by large stretches of land covered with shortgreen grass. It was watered by a large river, the Mara. Ris- ing in the Mau Escarpment, the stream is crossed by the Uganda Railway, and after flowing into German East Africa turns east- wards and pours itself into Lake Victoria. Where we crossed it, owing to the re- cent heavy rains, it was unford- able, and accord- ingly we had to build a bridge. The _ porters built this bridge in a few hours without any European super- vision. As can be seen from the Vol. xviii. —67. ON THE FRONTIER IN From a) Froma) A WA-KDOROBO HUNTER, PORTERS. CENTRAL AFRICA. (Photo. A PRIMITIVE BUT SERVICKABLE BRIDGE BUILT ACROSS AN UNFORDABLE RIVER BY THE (Photo. rather 529 photograph, they se- lected a place where they could utilize the rocks in the river to the best advantage. On these they laid poles of wood, bind- ing them together with twisted ropes of creepers and fixing a hand-rail on one side. The structure— primitive-looking, but eminently serviceable —is shown in the snap-shot below. The Mara was liter- ally alive with fish, and the men spent the evenings and nights in fishing with great success. For some time the water we had been drink- ing — taken usually from water - holes— had not been at all good, and the clear, cool water of the river was delicious. One fact was very annoying to us European anglers. Al- though the men, who fished only with hooks made of bent nails tied on the end of pieces of twine Or 10pe, were constantly haul- ing in fine large fish, the officers, with improvised rods and good tackle, hardly ever caught any- thing. One evening a boy, who had been collecting firewood near the camp built by the Commis- sion on the river, returned in a alarmed

Page 539

53° THE WIDE WORLD condition and told his master, Mr. Outram, that there were a lion and lioness close by. Mr. Outram, who was on a prospecting expedition and was travelling with us, immediately started with his rifle and only two cartridges, all he had in his possession. He wounded the lioness so severely that he was able to kill her early next morning, but the lion escaped. Lions were very plentiful near the river, and their roaring was often heard during the night and early morning. The men in charge of the donkeys reported that one day on the march they were persistently followed by three big brutes, and only prevented them from attacking the donkeys by firing at them. It was rather an improbable story, and may possibly have been invented to account for the ammunition they were constantly losing through carelessness and were made responsible for when their rounds were checked. ‘The natives are still under the impression that Europeans—through stupidity more than for any other reason—do not tell untruths, and think that they will also be stupid enough to believe any story told to them. ‘The following instance is perfectly true, and is a typical example of the ridiculous excuses that a man will adduce in the full belief of their finding credence, especially when backed up by constant assertion in an injured tone that the author is quite unable to tell a falsehood, An officer, looking one day at the skull of a lion that he had shot some time before, dis- covered, to his annoyance, that two of the large teeth had been cut out, thus damaging the head as a trophy. As the skull had been kept, together with other stores, in a large grass house, he sent for the native who had charge of the stores and asked him to explain the loss of the teeth. The explanation was decidedly ingenious. Prefacing his story by the usual remark that he was constitutionally unable to tell anything but the truth, the storekeeper declared that one rainy night a donkey had been put into the house for shelter, and that it was he who had eaten the missing teeth ! Shortly after crossing the Mara River the expedition entered the range of the Ndasegera Mountains, the most difficult country that had hitherto been encountered. A mountain tower- ing up ten thousand feet in altitude was passed to the northwards, and much difficulty was ex- perienced in crossing the deep ravines, with their roaring torrents. Nearly every day heavy showers of rain shrouded the country in mist, and the weather became cold, damp, and cheerless. From the top of the mountains, when clear weather prevailed, the huge dome of Kilimanjaro, the highest mountain in Africa, over nineteen thousand feet above sea-level, with its giant MAGAZINE. snow-cap glistening in the sun’s rays, could be discerned to the south-east; and Mount Meru, a sharp-peaked, solitary height, of considerably lower altitude than Kilimanjaro, was also visible in a more southerly direction. After a few days’ journey the mountains came to an abrupt end, and the country descended by precipices and steep slopes into the Great Rift Valley, which runs for hundreds of miles through the African con- tinent, carrying in its trough many large lakes. At one place on the edge of the escarpment we saw a mountain which looked as if it had been cut in half with an enormous knife. On one side its outline and slopes were regular, but on the other it descended almost precipitously for five thousand feet into the valley below. ‘The range of temperature in the highlands and valleys was tremendous, and very trying. Delightful days of cool breezes, with evenings that were actually cold, gave place to blazing sun in a sky of brass and oppressively close nights. Mosquitoes made life irksome, and large scorpions hid themselves in unlikely places, causing more than once unpleasant and painful surprises to those members of our party who came in contact with them. We crossed two rivers in the valley, and a large camp was made on the banks of the more imeortant of the two, the Guaso Enyero. Here wooden store- houses, thatched with grass, were built, and for several months the wretched place was the head- quarters of the British Commissioners and our guard of native soldiers. ‘The latter built small sleeping platforms for themselves, about ten or twelve feet above the ground, as they found that even at such a slight elevation they were free from mosquitoes and could sleep in peace. Some months after our arrival, but luckily not before we had been able to remove the stores, heavy rains caused the Guaso Enyero to over- flow its banks, and the camp was surrounded by a shallow lake. ‘The garrison were now com- pelled to spend all their time on their sleeping perches and relieved the tedium by fishing from them in the waters below. The storehouses were flooded with water, and for miles around the country was one huge swamp. There were several herds of buffalo in the neighbourhood, and on one occasion, looking through a telescope from the top of a hill, over a hundred of them were counted congregated in a large marsh. In places wildfowl—geese, teal, and snipe— afforded good sport and a welcome change from the usual diet of antelope or overdriven and half-starved goats and sheep. Close to where the Guaso Enyero runs into the Natron Sea is the River Pagazi, and the following photograph shows some of our men searching its waters for dead fish, of which

Page 540

ON THE FRONTIER IN CENTRAL AFRICA. 531 NATIVES SEARCHING THE VAGAZI RIVER FOR DEAD FISH —“ THEY WERE ALIVE WITH INSECTS, BUT, TO THE From a) NOT OVER-FASTIDIOUS TASTE OF THE AFRICAN, THAT MATTERED NOTHING.” [Photo there were hundreds on its banks or floating in press tightly together. It can be readily the stream. What killed the fish was not known, but, as we camped near by, the Swahilis were not slow to avail themselves of this novel source of supply, and easily found enough fish to last them for several days. ‘True, they were alive with insects, but, to the not over-fastidious taste of the African, that mattered nothing; fish and worms were alike’ devoured with pleasure, and no in- convenience followed. Natives, by the way, will readily eat meat even when quite decom- posed, and not even a bad tin of meat, enough to poison a white man, causes their digestive organs to revolt. After dining not wisely but too well, the porters were sometimes seized by what they called “tumbo,” a painful - . ~ form of colic, which was easily cured by a curious treatment to which they submitted themselves, after suf- fering for a few minutes. The patient having been laid on the ground with one foot across the other, a cloth is tied round his ankles, sufficiently loosely to allow a small stick to be in- serted in the loop. The stick is then held and vigorously twisted round and round, causing the joints to Frou a) THE SWAMILIS DEMULISUING A BOUNDARY CAIKN. imagined that the resulting pain must be considerable, yet I can testify that it cures “tumbo” almost immediately. It can thus be recommended as a certain, although rather painful, cure for colic. When we first reached the Natron Sea, one of the lakes in the Rift Valley, it was in many places quite dry. Vhe accompanying photo- graph shows a number of Swahilis employed in scattering the stones of a boundary cairn which had been built in the bed of the lake, but was ~ found not to be suitably situated, and was accordingly ordered to be removed. The mud- flats of the lake were covered by a slight chémical deposit of whitish colour, which on (Photo,

Page 541

532 THE WIDE moonlight nights made the landscape look as if it were covered with snow. The heat was intense, for absolutely no shade was obtainable, and the lake was at a low altitude. ‘The water in the lake was replenished from numerous salt springs, and a large river, reported to be salt, was found to be impregnated with natron and quite undrinkable. Walking out on the mud towards the centre of the Natron Sea, the mud at each step became softer and warmer until it became so hot that a man could not keep his hand in it, and it was impossible to proceed farther The country surrounding the sea was dreary in the extreme. As far as the eye could see the rocky ground was covered with coarse, wiry WORLD MAGAZINE. The country lying to the east of the Rift Valley being almost waterless, we built a large camp near a spring in some rocky mountains. Except during the rains there was no water between us and the Guaso Enyero, a distance of a couple of marches, so the drinking supply for the men had all to be carried for a con- siderable distance. [or this purpose we used empty kerosene tins carried by porters on their heads. This method was by no means satis- factory, as the tins do not stand much wear and soon rust and leak. ‘Trees and thorn bush were so dense near the spring that a clearing had to be made before the camp could be built. As the country was uninhabited, no food was obtainable, and we From a) grass, with here and there stunted thorn bushes which served only to accentuate the dismal character of the scenery. Above these thorn bushes the long necks of giraffe were often observed, as they roamed the country in large herds. Shombole, a solitary mountain near the north end of the Natron Sea, was next visited ; and the picture reproduced above depicts a party of our men erecting a beacon on one of its slopes for the use of the surveyors. This lonely mountain was infested with baboons, who barked vigorously as they climbed about its sun- dried rocks. ERECTING A DEACON ON MOUNT SHOMBOLE. (Photo, had to dispatch caravans to the nearest point on the railway for supplies. The next photo- graph shows stores being issued to the men after the return of a caravan. ‘There were large numbers of antelope in the region, but to kill them wholesale to supply the caravan with meat was not considered sportsmanlike. In order to partly supply our needs a herd of cattle accom- panied us, the animals being slaughtered when meat was considered necessary for the men. As regards flour and rice, which formed the staple food of the porters, special arrangements had to be made, and it can be easily under- stood how difficult it.was to feed four hundred ry Google Digitiz

Page 542

ON ‘THE FRONTIER ISSUING STOKES TO THE EX, IN CENTRAL AFRICA, 533 DITION AFTER THE ARRIVAL OF A CARAVAN, From a Photo. men out in the wilderness, seeing that all food loads had to be carried—often as many as eight marches, and never fewer than four—from the Uganda Railway to the portion of the country where the expedition happened to be passing through. Despite occasional mishaps, however, it is satisfactory to be able to relate that the escort and men were seldom without their proper rations. On one occasion our food supply had to be brought from Kiu, a station on the Uganda Railway, by a convoy of donkeys. ‘The route they were to travel by had been carefully gone over. It was about five days’ march, and the only difficulty there seemed to be was the scarcity of water. Everything was settled, and we congratulated ourselves on the ease with which we expected to obtain a good and certain supply of food. Then the rains burst, and it poured day and night. Meanwhile our store of food became less and less, and no donkey caravan arrived with the supplies. We heard to our dismay that the country had become impossible for donkeys ; large stretches of land, a few days before dry and sunburnt plains, were now soft and swampy and quite impassable for laden transport animals. Dry river-beds that appeared as if no water had flowed along them since Noah’s flood were now unfordable, rushing torrents. The rains showed no signs of abating, and we were soon on the brink of starvation owing to the further demands on our shrinking supplies made by the caravan men, who reached camp hungry and exhausted instead of bringing the long-expected donkeys laden with food. As matters were fast becoming critical, we supplied these men with just sufficient rations for the journey and sent them off to obtain stores at the railway, with instructions to return with all speed with as much as they could carry. On one occasion, while a large number of natives were fetching supplies from Nairobi over a waterless country, they became disaffected and disheartened and precipitately bolted. They were told that a number of kerosene tins of water had been deposited at a place which they were expected to reach at the end of their day’s march. It was an extremely hot day, and no doubt the carriers did not believe that they would reach the water store, or, perhaps, even doubted its existence. At any rate, they suddenly threw down their loads, and in a very few minutes the caravan was in full flight, their precious loads littering the ground for a distance of several miles. The escort of native police behaved well, and after doing their best, without avail, to prevent the panic-stricken natives from bolt- ing, they mounted guard over the deserted loads. ‘Thanks to them, very few were lost or looted, although, as will appear later cn, many were hopelessly destroyed through circum- stances over which the police had no control. The district in question was usually one of extreme drought, but that very night, as luck

Page 543

534 THE WIDE WORLD would have it, the rain came down in torrents, and those in charge of the caravan spent a dismal night in the downpour. When after several days the scattered loads were collected it was found that many of the bags of flour had to be thrown away, the heavy night’s rain, followed by a broiling hot day, having rendered them no longer fit for food. The deserters, worn out with long and thirsty marches, made for their homes, where they eventually arrived, but only after several had succumbed on the road. In a portion of the country traversed rhino- ceroses were very common and were seen nearly every day. In the dry season they were generally to be found on the tops of mountains, dis- playing wonderful agility, considering their short, stumpy feet, in climbing among the rocks and running up and down the hills. On one occasion a non-commissioned officer attached to the expedition, while sketching with a plane table, left it for a few minutes, but had only gone a few yards away when the instrument was charged by one of these savage brutes, who tossed it angrily into the bush. The plane table was not the least damaged, but if the non- commissioned officer had been working at it when the rhinoceros charged there might have been a different tale to tell. Some of the natives with the expedition had narrow escapes when charged by these animals. They are particularly numerous in the Kiu district, and one evening, while one of the sergeant-majors was shooting partridges for the pot, he was suddenly charged by a rhinoceros. Armed as he was with only a shot-gun, he might as well have attempted to stop the monster with his fist. Fortunately for him, however, a soldier who was near fired with his rifle, severely wound- ing the beast, and thus probably averted a dangerous accident. Large parties of natives from Ukamba, a populous district in the Protectorate, hunt these A DEAD RHINOCEROS PRACTICALLY DEVOURED BY VULTURES, from @ Photo, MAGAZINE, animals, and from the remains of them that were seen as we crossed the country they must be successful in the chase. ‘These Wakamba hunt- ing parties, consisting of sixty or seventy warriors, pepper their quarry with poisoned arrows and follow it till it is killed or dies from sheer loss of blood. Although it is a distinctly dangerous form of sport, yet not many natives appear to be killed while engaged in it. 1 have been told that the Wakamba hunters do not eat rhinoceros flesh, contenting themselves with merely removing the horns and leaving the remainder to be devoured by beasts of prey. Within a very few days the carcass | —like that shown in the annexed photograph—is al- most entirely de- voured by beasts of prey and vultures. On one occasion one of the German officersshotarhino- ceros — unaware, owing to the length of the grass, that it was accompanied by a young one. After he had walked up to where the beast was lying dead he was sur- prised to hear a shrill squeaking in the grass, and to see a little rhino run out pathetically from the bush. It was captured by the men without much diffi- culty and taken alive to the camp. For the first few days the little animal was savage and would lower its head, snort, and attempt to charge when approached. Finally it became very tame and would walk about camp in an aimless manner, not taking the least trouble to steer clear of anything smaller than itself, which it would knock down rather than avoid. It was fed with a spoon and drank milk from a bottle with a leather teat. When moving camp the little fellow was put in a blanket and slept quietly, while the blanket was attached to a long pole. Thus slung, in the form of a hammock, it was carried by four porters. It lived for several weeks, and then began to suffer from diarrhcea, a disease so often fatal to young animals, and from which to our great regret it died later on. I believe that only one young rhinoceros has ever been brought to Europe alive from East

Page 544

ON THE FRONTIER THE YOUNG RHINO WHICH RECAME THE PRT OF THE CAMP—IT IS HERE SHOWN FEEDING From a) OUT OF A SPOON, Africa, This queer little pet is seen in the above photograph feeding out of a spoon. That the porters had hard work can be seen from the next illustration, which shows a caravan crossing Lake Amboseli. In the dry season there is probably little or no water in the lake, but we had to cross it during the rains, which made it in places well-nigh impassable. Carrying their loads the men sank at every step over their ankles in mud. IN CENTRAL AFRICA. 535 After marching for about a mile and a half in this uncom- fortable fashion, we reached a river which was running in the centre of the lake. Here the water was not deep, but the men sank up to their middles in its muddy bottom as they struggled across. To sink at every step up to the waist and not to feel at all certain that one may not disappear alto- gether is certainly not as pleasant walking as could be desired. Crossing Lake Amboseli was one of the most trying experi- ences the porters had. It is perhaps only two and a half miles across, and yet it took over six hours’ wading through mud and water to reach the opposite shore. ~All this Photo. labour proved to be unneces- sary, as we found later that the lake only extended a short distance to the south, and we could have marched round in comfort on dry land in about one-third of the time that it took to cross. Lake Amboseli is brackish and undrinkable, although when we crossed the amount of rain which had fallen had filled it with fresh water. There are several lakes and swamps to the north - west of Kilimanjaro ; some of them, like Lake Amboseli, are brackish, while others contain fresh water. From a) THE PORTERS CROSSING LAKE AMBOSELL (Phote. (To be continued.) 9 oO. e Digitize yVAsO0C

Page 545

An Indian “Sherlock Holmes.” THE STRANGE EXPERIENCES OF SARDAR MIR ABDUL ALI, KHAN BAHADUR, CHIEF OF THE BOMBAY NATIVE POLICE. By H. L. Apa. ‘We have pleasure in presenting our readers with these fascinating real-life narratives—something altogether new and unique in detective stories. They are a selection from the adventures of one of the most distinguished officials of the Indian police, Sardar Mir Abdul Ali. The Eastern malefactor is perhaps the wiliest in the world, and he makes a crime a veritabl2 work of art. Astute indeed must be the officer who would lay him by the heels, but, as this absorbing series shows, even these master-minds meet their match in the “Indian Sherlock Holmes.” IIl.—THE MAN N the year 1887 there dwelt at Khadak, Bombay, a certain mullah or Mohammedan priest and school- master, known as Moolji ‘Tyabjee. He was not a popular man, for he was mean and avaricious, and the people who came to him from the surrounding neighbour- hood for his blessing invariably left money with him. Instead of using this for the relief of the poor, Tyabjee hoarded it up. Even his wife was in the habit of visiting ladies and receiving from them cast-off clothes, and thus a still further saving of expenditure was accom- plished. By these means this penurious priest acquired a fortune of something like twenty thousand rupees, three houses of considerable value in Bombay, and a quantity of jewellery and other valuables. Yet he never gave a pice in charity. For the sake of economy, the miser partook of his meals, which were of a very frugal character, at a neighbouring coffee-house. From constantly visiting this establishment he became a familiar figure to the other regular customers, and these chance acquaintances also profited the priest, for those of his own sect not infre- quently invited him to partake of a meal, a courtesy that gladdened his heart not a little. It so happened that one night ‘T'yabjee was approached in the coffee-house by two munshi (teacher) brothers, who, having besought and received from him his blessing, invited him to sup with them, to which suggestion, as usual, he cordially agreed. The munshis proved to be excellent fellows, most entertaining, and of very generous disposition. ‘Thereafter, night after night, the priest and the munshis met in the coffee-house, for they had become fast friends, and supped together—always at the munshis’ expense. ‘This was just what the priest of Khadak liked, and his miserly heart warmed to his newly-discovered acquaintances. The jovial trio talked on various subjects, but the munshis were for the most part the narrators. They knew many things, strange and seemingly WHO DESIRED RICHES. incredible. ‘The priest. was much interested thereat, and, talked they ever so much, he was anxious to hear more. ‘Thus it happened that they chanced to mention the shrine of St. Mama Hajain, situated on a hill at a place called Worli, expatiated on its beauty and wonderful reputation, and concluded by extend- ing a cordial invitation to their companicn to accompany them on a visit to the place, intimating that their visit should include a generous dinner. ‘The priest, with sparkling eyes, accepted the invitation, and an appoint- ment was arranged for the morrow. ‘The shrine was not far distant, and the next day the three met as described, and after prayers set forth on their journey. When they arrived at the hill aforesaid it was late in the afternoon, and evening was drawing on apace. The lingering glow of the sinking sun illuminated the surrounding landscape with a rich golden light, shining upon the figures of the three pilgrims as, slowly and meditatively, they ascended the holy hill of Worti. About half-way up the slope the trio came upon the shrine of St. Mama Hajain, before which, on a deer-skin mat, knelt an aged Mohammedan sage, engaged in earnest prayer The three pilgrims drew back a few paces, and stood silently regarding the bent form of the holy man. Presently the silence was broken by the priest of Khadak, who ventured to whisper to one of the munshis :— “Who is the holy man? I have not seen him before.” The munshis expressed surprise at this, and one of them rephed :-- “Oh, he is a well-known man, a great magician and wonder - worker, who possesses the power of producing precious metals from nothing. I do not know his name, but of his power I have heard much. If you are inter- ested in him, why not speak with him? You are privileged ; you are a priest.” ‘The miser was greatly interested.

Page 546

AN INDIAN IN “ON A DEER-SKIN MAT K ENGAGED 1 AN AGED MOHAMMEDAN SAGE, EAKNEST PRAYER,” “Ts that so?” he returned. “I have heard of holy men who are possessed of powers more than those of ordinary mortals; I have also heard of such men converting metals of a baser kind into gold and silver, but I never heard of one who could produce such precious metals from nothing! Yet it may be so; one can never tell. Know you where he comes from, or where he resides ?” “No,” replied the munshi; “I know only that he comes periodically to the shrine, but remains only a few days. Hush! He stirs.” Meanwhile the sage, having completed his devotions, raised his head, turned round, and caught sight of the three pilgrims. Thereupon Vol. xviii —68. “SHERLOCK HOLMES.” $37 his venerable face ex panded into a benevo lent smile of welcome, and he said, kindly :— “Be seated, my children.” All seated them- selves near the sage, who addressed himself almost exclusively to the mullah, whom he questioned concerning himself and his affairs, and with whom he seemed greatly pleased. Finally the sage spoke as follows :— “Know, holy man, that recently there came to me in a dream-vision the blessed form of Mo- hammed the Prophet, who warned me that the sands of my life were nearly spent. Ere it was too late he bade me journey to this shrine, here to meet a holy man of my creed, to whom I was directed to impart a vital secret. A voice whispers within me that you are that man, and I will at once put it to the test.” Here he picked up a queer-shaped hookah which lay near, and also produced from the folds of his robe a curious-looking substance which presented the appearance of a mixture of charred root and tobacco leaf. “This,” be continued, “is the root of the wondrous plant aksir, which possesses the power of converting copper into gold. Brother, have you a copper coin?” ‘The mullah, much impressed, fumbled in his pockets, and at length produced a quarter-anna piece, which he handed to the sage. Placing it in the pipe, the latter laid some of the ‘“aksir” over the coin, and smoked placidly for a few moments. ‘Then he suddenly knocked the ash from the pipe, and lo ! in the place of the copper piece there fell out a golden coin ! “Tis even so, brother!” exclaimed the sage, with beaming countenance. “You are the priest selected by the Great Prophet to succeed me in the good work of relieving the sufferings of mankind. The secret shall be yours; I will impart it to you, but not to-day. The time is

Page 547

538 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. short, and the hour of prayer approaches. In the meantime, however, take this gold coin and come again to this shrine, when the secret shall be revealed. Now leave me, my children; I would be alone with my thoughts.” With that he waved to them to depart, and sank into a profound reverie, while the three pilgrims wended their way down the hill again, the mullah, with a joyful heart, fondly clutching the gold coin. Having dined generously the men parted, with a mutual promise to meet on the morrow. ‘Ihe mullah returned home with a light step and spent a sleepless night in rosy conjectures on the subject of the wealth that lay in the lap of the near future. He would be a rich man, doubly and trebly rich ; for had he not seen the miracle performed before his eyes, and would not the secret soon be his? More- over, he held in his possession, in the shape of the mysterious gold coin, undeniable and tangible evidence of the secret that the Prophet had ordained should be his. But he was a careful man and decided to seek still further proof, so on the morrow he hied him to a gold- smith’s, and, placing the coin before him, requested him to test it. This the goldsmith did, and declared it to be “‘ one hundred touch ” —-that is to say, the purest metal. ‘Thereupon the mullah’s delight knew no bounds, and with a heart bursting with gladness he hurried to keep his appointment with the munshis at the coffee-house. ‘They were there already and welcomed him effusively ; but to the mullah’s eager request that they should depart at once for the holy hill at Worli they demurred. “No,” said one ; “this is a day of worship, and if we go the sage will not see us; 1 know that. We will go to-morrow.” The mullah was compelled, therefore, much against his will, to possess his avaricious soul in patience. On the morrow, as arranged, the trio again journeyed to the hill at Worli, the munshis bearing flowers and sweetmeats as offerings to the sage. The latter they found in his accus- tomed attitude before the shrine, and when he saw them he welcomed them with a smile of ineffable sweetness. ‘Turning to the mullah, he said :— “Tt affords me great pleasure to greet you once more, for you must know that the blessed Prophet has again appeared to me ina vision, and intimated his pleasure at what has passed between us. Thursday next is our most sacred day, and that shall be the time for imparting the secret. It is so decreed.” ‘Then the sage made a request, as before, that the mullah should give him a copper coin, in order that he might transform it into purest gold. ‘The mullah accordingly produced a pice, which was promptly converted by the sage, in the mysterious manner already described, into a gold coin. He then directed his visitors to depart, and return on the following Thursday. Making deep obeisances, the three returned down the hill. Arrived at the mullah’s house, one of the munshis intimated that he expected to be allowed to participate in the priest's good fortune. ‘Io this proposal the penurious priest demurred, protesting that he had not yet Leen the recipient of anything; but the munshi insisted that ‘T'yabjee had consented to learn the secret that would put him in possession of riches, and it was of these that he expected a share. Still, however, the priest continued obdurate ; he would not consent, he said, to any division of the inheritance. At this the munshi grew angry, and threatened that unless he received an adequate share of the money he would expose the priest as a miserly skinflint, upon learning which the sage would leave Bombay in disgust with the precious seciet still locked in his bosom. Alarmed at the prospect, the mullah accorded a reluctant assent to his companion’s demands. On the Thursday following all three paid yet another visit to the holy hill at Worli, where once more they found the sage at his devotions before the shrine. He greeted them cordially, but soon intimated that the time was not yet ripe for the secret to be revealed. “My children,” said he, “I regret that the precious aksir is all but spent. You must know that it is obtained from a plant, and is to be found only at the beginning of the monsoon. That time, fortunately, is very near, and we shall not have long to wait. It is impossible to work without this plant, so we must have patience. In the meantime it is necessary that I should have a suitable dwelling wherein to tarry, and”—he turned to the mullah patron- izingly—“\I will seck shelter in your home, where we may discuss at length much that will interest and concern you.” Although the mullah was delighted to wel- come so precious a friend as the sage to his hospitable board, he also swiftly took into account the cost of such a proceeding, for he could not offer the holy man the frugal food he was himself in the habit of living upon, but would have to furnish first-class meals. But then the advantage of having the holder of the invaluable secret so near him—all to himself, so to speak—far outweighed any other considera- tion ; in fact, it influenced the avaricious man so much on the side of generosity that he also extended an invitation to the munshis to stay with him at his house, which they were not slow to accept. So it fell out that the friendly

Page 548

AN INDIAN quartet took up their residence at the abode of the mullah, living in amity and good- fellowship. One day, while the sage was seated at the door of the mullah’s house, reflectively smoking his hookah, it chanced that two wayfarers came by—an aged man leaning heavily on the shoulder of a youth. Both looked weary and footsore, and when the young man caught sight of the sage he called his com- panion’s attention to him, exclaim- ing :— “Oh, look, father! There is the holy fakir of whom we are in quest !” The old man glanced towards the sage, and im- mediately his lack - lustre eyes were lit up with a radiant look of gratitude and joy and he salaamed deeply. “O great and good and holy man,” he exclaimed, in a quivering voice, “I have travelled many weary miles to seek you, and I bless the Prophet for thus directing my steps. Your servant is again in sore need of your benevolent assistance. I require two thousand Tupees for the blessed nuptials of a son and a daughter. Will the holy father again extend to me a helping hand, and receive the blessing of one already deeply grateful for generous aid administered? At one time it seemed that my wanderings in search of you would see no ending, for they have extended over three weary months. I am an old man, my days are numbered, and if the holy father will not assist me I know not where to go.” THREATENED THAT UNLESS RECEIVED AN ADEQUATE “SHERLOCK MONEY HE WOULD EXPUSE THE PRIEST.” HOLMES.” 539 As he concluded the old man’s voice trembled with emotion, and he shook his bowed head despair- ingly. All this time the mullah had stood at the side of the sage, and the latter now turned to him and said :— “This is indeed a deserving case, but, alas! I have not sufficientaksir with which to work. — Brother, you must give this money. It is but a trifle to you, and the poor must not be dis- appointed. To relieve suffering humanity is a noble thing, and this poor old man must not be sent away empty.” The mullah, in great distress at the idea of part- ing with money, hastily declared that he had not sufficient cash at hand, and that he would have to dispose of ‘2 some of his jewellery. This the sage impera- tively directed him to do. The mullah, having reasoned with himself that it would make no difference in the end, when he became master of the secret, proceeded to con- vert some of his jewellery into currency notes, which were handed over to the old man, who thereupon departed with many blessings for the sage and the mullah upon his lips. A few days later all the four friends paid another visit to the holy bill at Worli. While they were standing before the shrine of St. Mama Hajain a poorly-clad woman appeared and prostrated herself at the feet of the sage. “O holy father,” she exclaimed, in a voice of distraction, “I am weighed down with grief and want. I have lost husband and son, and am left helpless with many little children, for whom I have no food. I have heard of your name, and

Page 549

540 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. came to beseech your help, holy father, in my 1 sore distress ! Thereupon the poor woman shed copious the holy hill, and handed it to the sage, who passed it on to the woman. She took her departure with many expressions of gratitude tears. ‘The sage took her on one side and invited her to state her wants definitely. ‘This she did, and then the sage turned to Tyabjee and re- quested that he should give the poor creature the sum of fifteen hundre rupees, together with two hundred for roac expenses. He inti- mated at the same time that he darec “ & POOKLY-CLAD WOMAN APPEAKED AND PROSTRATED HERSELF AT THE FEET OF THE SAGE. not leave the shrine until this had been done. He would wait there, he added, while the mullah procured the money and returned with it. ‘Lyabjee consented, albeit somewhat reluc- tantly, and set out for his house. On the way he reasoned out the situation. It was clear, he told himself, that he must not risk the money that he had already expended by refusing this further sum, and so offending the holy man once for all. If he angered the sage, and the latter departed before revealing the secret, he would lose all he had already laid out. It would not, on the other hand, matter in the end, because he would get it all back and much more besides. Comforted by this reflection, he pro- cured the necessary amount, returned with it to towards the holy man. The mullah hav- ing later complied with a still further request for two thou- sand rupees — like the rest, to be spent in charity—the burst- ing of the monsoon arrived, and with it came the time for starting out upon the journey in search of the coveted plant “aksir.” Never was rain so joyfully wel- comed as was this by the mullah, who, depressed at parting with so much of his jealously-hoarded wealth, had been as gloomy as the clouds which now relieved his depression, and put him into the best of spirits. At last the morn- ing arranged for the expedition arrived, and the four men— the munshis, the holy man, and Tyabjee— took train to a place called Kalyan, the fares being paid by the eager mullah. From the _ station they proceeded on foot to a hill called Haji Malang’s Mountain, up which the sage led the way. Having travelled about half the distance to the summit, the holy man paused, and said impressively :— “We approach the spot where the sacred plant is to be found.” Scarcely had the words left his lips when there smote upon the ears of the men a monotonous murmur, as of someone praying. The sage at once started forward with a look of alarm on his face. Before them was a ledge of rock, and round this the holy man hastened, followed by the anxious mullah and the munshis. Turning the corner they beheld an aged, silvery - haired man upon his knees, praying fervently. Upon beholding the new-comers a

Page 550

AN INDIAN look of fierce indignation flashed from his eyes, and he rose tottering to his feet. “ Dog!” he exclaimed, addressing himself to the sage. ‘ How dare you bring such creatures as these to break in upon my devotions? Would you reveal the precious secret ?” The sage, who seemed awestruck at sight of the stranger, answered deferential “ Know, holy father, that in a vision recently it has been revealed to me that, my days on earth being numbered, the secret must be confided to this holy man here, and m “You lie, you dog!” interrupted the old man, passionately, his snowy locks quivering with the unseemly rage that possessed him. ‘“T tell you to your face you lie! Your abject manner and stammering words betray you. ‘I'he precious herb shall never be yours. The secret was conveyed to me through the Prophet and I will protect it with my life. I will curse the aksir and render it useless as clay in your hands !” “The curse will avail you nothing,” exclaimed the sage, suddenly assuming a defiant attitude. ‘No power shall prevent me from carry- ing out the mandate of my vision. I will have the herb !” “HE ROLLED OVER AND OVER DOWN THE STEEP SLOPE.” “SHERLOCK HOLMES.” 541 “With my life will I protect the sacred plant against your foul fingers!” exclaimed the old man, angrily. “If you lay hands upon it I will blast you with lightnings and wither you with fires !” At that moment, us though in response to the threat, a peal of thunder rolled overhead and muttered away in the distance. But the sage continued defiant. “I warn you,” said he, “that I shall gather the herb, and you will attempt to stay me at your peril!” “And at your peril be it also!” replied the other old man, equally determined. Without more ado the sage made straight for a clump of peculiar plants which grew near, and proceeded to drag them up by the roots. “May the Prophet give me strength to deal with this sacrilegious monster!” exclaimed the old man, and he threw off his outer cloak and prepared to deal with the sage. As he did so the mullah, standing in perplexity close by, noticed that his activity and brawny arms were scarcely in keeping with his generally senile appearance. Promptly he flung his arms round the waist of the sage, and, in spite of his struggles, lifted him high in the air and dropped him unceremoniously down the side of the hill, whence he rolled over and over down the steep slope to the Digitized by Kv OOQ [e (a)

Page 551

542 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE, bottom. ‘Thereupon the victorious old man turned upon the others, but they fled hastily after their companion, while the patriarch stood on a pinnacle of rock with folded arms, and hurled after them many full-bodied curses. ‘The mullah, much perturbed by the turn of events, arrived at the base of the hill just as the sage was ruefully rubbing his bruises, and promptly assailed him with angry words. “Are we not to gather the aksir,” he demanded, “after all the money I have spent?” “This anger ill becomes one of your holy calling,” said the sage, in chastened tones. “ Have no fear ; all will come right in the end. Help me up, brother ; I am sore.” The muilah assisted the sage to his feet, but he was not by any means reassured, and expressed his dissatisfaction in unmistakable terms. ‘The sage endeavoured to appease him and explain matters satisfactorily. “Tt is unfortunate,” said he, “that this saint should have come before me, inasmuch as he is a good deal more powerful than I. But have no fear, brother ; the aksir shall be ours yet. Let us return home.” This did not altogether please the mullah, nor, indeed, did it apparently satisfy the munshis, for one of them suggested that they should go back and deal summarily with the ancient saint, interlarding his discourse with formidable threats towards their common enemy. But the mullah was not eager to try conciusions with the saint, for whose strength and determination he had conceived a whole- some respect. It was, therefore, a somewhat crestfallen party that returned to the mullah’s house at Bombay, leaving the stalwart patriarch in undisputed possession of the precious plant that was to produce gold for the miserly Tyabjee. ‘Ihe mullah did not recover his spirits as readily as the others seemed to do, and he almost began to begrudge the ample m daily consumed at his expense. He sti ever, had faith in the holy man, who informed him that it would be necessary for him (the sage) to take a journey to a certain shrine at Dhatar, in Kathiawar, where there grew a plant of even more sovereign virtues than aksir, ‘The following year, he added, they would go to another mountain for aksir. In the meantime they need not be idle, for he would instruct ‘Tyabjee in the method of making maunds of gold from baser metals. “Go you,” said the sage, “to the bazaar, and there search for the copper of Damascus, and, having procured it, bring it hither, and I will show you wonders with it.” The mullah, who had already disposed of one of his houses in order to raise funds to meet the sage’s demands, did as he was told, and with the surplus of the money obtained by the sale set out to purchase copper of Damascus, hopeful that at last he was about to recoup himself for the heavy expenses he had been put to. ‘The munshis accompanied him, and they wandered about all day in the streets of Bombay, inquiring for Damascus copper, but were unable to obtain it. At last, however, they came to the shop of a smith, which they entered, and repeated their request. The shop- keeper seemed startled and alarmed, expressing his surprise that such material should be asked for, and asking if they had any idea of its value. One of the munshis apologetically explained that it was for a friend, whereupon the smith said that the copper had been in his family for more than fifty years, and was more precious than gold. ‘The mullah_ expressed himself anxious to purchase, but the smith refused to sell until he had been informed for what the copper was required. At this one of the munshis made a peculiar sign, and the smith requested to be shown the man who knew how to use the copper ; but this, of course, could not be done. “Then,” said he, “I must charge you the same price per tola as gold, for gold can be made from it.” Tyabjee naturally objected to this, and so no business was then done. Returning home, the mullah explained matters to the sage, who, on mention of the smith, became very excited. “Ah!” he exclaimed, “do not bring him here, or he may recognise me. Pay his price at once, and do not argue. ‘The metal is far more precious than gold!” This satisfied the mullah, who promptly re- turned to the smith and purchased the copper, giving the price of yold for it. This difficulty overcome, the sage intimated that a certain plant only was now needed—not the aksir which they had failed to obtain, but another and more wonderful plant, with which to make a lotion. ‘This plant was to be found at a place called Dhalai, whither they would journey, and where there would be no stalwart saint to interfere. The mullah had now spent so much money that he dared not lose sight of the saye at this stage of the proceedings, and therefore readily consented to accompany his mentor even before he had been invited. The night before they were to embark upon this journey to Dhalai the sage produced a small piece of aksir and informed the mullah that it was the last he had, but that the plant they would find on the morrow possessed far more wonderful properties. Although the piece of aksir he had was too small with which to reveal the secret, he said

Page 552

AN INDIAN “SHERLOCK HOLMES.” 543 “HE SAID HE WOULD UTILIZE 1T TO CONVERT A COPTER COIN INTO A GOD ONE." he would utilize it to convert a copper coin into a gold one, as he had done before. This he did, using a quarter-anna piece given him by Tyabjee, and he gave him the gold piece which he apparently manufactured before his eyes. This curious performance pleased the mullah immensely, and when they all set out for Dhalai next day he took with him a sum of five thousand rupees, at the invitation of the sage. By this time the: miser had disposed of another of his houses, all his ready cash having been exhausted. Arrived at Dhalai, the mullah noticed with secret consternation that there were many poor people about, and one of them, an old man, addressed himself to the sage, begging for assist- ance. This application was followed by several others, and eventually—the wretched Tyabjee not daring to protest—the whole of the five thousand rupees was distributed in charity. Then the sage gathered a quantity of a plant growing near, and, after delivering himself of sundry prayers and incantations, led the return to the mullah’s house. Here his manner became very mysterious. He had the windows of the room he had been occupying darkened, and remained secluded for a day and a night. Next morning he emerged, and informed Tyabjee that the plant was successfully distilled, but that before going further it would be necessary to procure a hundred tolas of pure gold, to work in conjunction with the copper. This, however, would be positively the last outlay. At this the mullah was aghast. He protested, almost with tears in his eyes, that he had already parted with two of his three houses and all his available cash, and had received no return save two or three gold coins. The sage became highly indignant at the mullah’s outburst, which he evidently regarded as mercenary in the extreme. “Then sell your other house, or the secret can never be yours,” he cried, angrily. “Sell at once, sir, and bring the gold to me!” ‘The mullah, much distressed, went forth in haste, sold his remaining house so summarily that he was compelled to accept much less than its value, and returned with the money to the sage. The latter he found in his darkened room, which was lighted only by a cocoanut-oil

Page 553

544 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. lamp. Soon after the holy man showed him the gold ground to dust at the bottom of a basin- like receptacle. Upon this he poured a yellow liquid, which he declared had been distilled from the plant gathered at Dhalai. “ Tt now only remains,” said he, impressively, “to keep stirring the liquid with this steel rod for tne space of seven days. This must be done between us four, each taking turns, one relieving the other. We must work in spells of four hours each. Should the stirring, once it is started, be interrupted, then the spell will be destroyed and all our labour be in vain. Mark that well, brother ; it is of vital conse- quence. Once the stirring ceases, the secret will be in jeo- pardy and may never be known to you. I will begin at once, and I pray you leave me to my task and let me not beinterrupted ere it is com- pleted.” The sage was accordingly left to himself in the darkened room, and the excited j mullah joined <a. the munshis be- low. It was agreed that one of the latter should relieve the sage, and that the mullah should follow the munshi, ‘The time slipped slowly by, and at length one of the munshis took the sage’s place. The holy man reappeared, looking somewhat tired. “Yet it is for a good cause, so I grudge not the labour,” he said, graciously. At last Tyabjee's turn arrived, and arming himself with a clock, and having received the good wishes of the others, he made his way to the darkened room and relieved the munshi, who was stirring slowly and dreamily. Placing the clock on the floor in front of him, the agitated priest took the steel rod from the munshi and began his monotonous task. ‘The munshi gave him good wishes, bidding him be of good cheer, and quitted the room. ‘The hour was now eight in the evening, and the mullah would be relieved at midnight. At first he stirred briskly, but at the end of the first half-hour found it necessary to go slower and also to change hands. At the con- clusion of the first hour both arms ached sadly, but he had no intention of abandoning his task, for did not for- tune depend upon it? When the clocks chimed ten he began to feel giddy and sick, but still he toiled on manfully, with the words of the sage ring- ing in his ears: “Should the stir- ring be inter- rupted, the spel! will be de- stroyed.” When eleven o'clock struck he was feeling very feeble, but dared not stop. It cheered him to feel that the hour of his deliver- ance was now fast approaching. In future, he de- cided, he would propose a shorter spell ; four hours was much too “SHOULD THE STIKRING BE INTERKUITED, THE SPELL WILL UE DESTROYED.” long. Would the hour of midnight zever chime? His whole body was aching and throbbing, his head spinning round ltke a top, and he felt as though stretched upon a rack. At last the chimes of midnight fell upon his throbbing ears, and he heaved a mighty sigh of relief as he felt that the moment of delivery was at hand. But he would not, must no& pause in his task until relief came, as come it surely would. But the chimes died away, silence ensued, and there came no sound of approach- ing footsteps. Tyabjee’s heart sank within him. What could it mean? he asked himself; had they forgotten him? Surely not! They would be here directly, no doubt, so he would keep on

Page 554

AN INDIAN stirring. He must, hé told himself grimly, or all would be ruined. ‘They must be sleeping, he thought, so he called out, but there was no response. Still he stirred on, his mind a chaos, his body numbed from head to foot. At last came collapse ; he rolled over and fell into a deep sleep. He was aroused by being roughly shaken by one of the munshis. When he realized what had happened he was much distressed. “The spell is broken!” he exclaimed, in agonized accents. “Yes,” replied the munshi, wrathfully, “and the sage is very angry, and has left!” “ He saw me?” asked Tyabjee, miserably. “He did, and now we shall never see him again. What are we to do?” The munshi spoke the truth; the sage was gone. The disconsolate trio then examined the contents of the vessel and discovered, to their intense astonishment and dismay, that the supposed gold dust was in reality brass—the genuine gold had disappeared with the sage ! ‘The munshis were very angry and vowed that they would yet find the impostor, as the alleged “holy man” must have been, and make him suffer for his cruel deception. When the wretched Tyabjee at length emerged from the state of hallucination in which he had so long been groping he found himself a com- pletely ruined man, minus the wherewithal to purchase even a meal. Bitterly he bemoaned his misfortune, and the munshis sympathized deeply with him, although, as they stated, they were victims themselves. At all events, they could not starve, so one of them handed Tyabjee a few copper coins and asked him to go and buy sufficient provisions to make a meal for them all. ‘Uhe mullah, dejected beyond measure, sallied forth, but had not gone many yards when one of the munshis followed in his tracks and walked up to a police-officer, to whom he whispered something, at the same time indicat- ing the retreating form of the priest. The latter, all unsuspecting, presented the copper coins to a shopman, whereupon the policeman entered the shop and promptly arrested him on a charge of attempting to pass bad money. Loudly the astonished man_ protested his innocence, but the coins, on examination, proved to be undoubtedly base, and he was removed in custody. Upon his house being “SHERLOCK HOLMES.” 545 searched coining implements were found secreted there, and he was committed for trial on the grave charges of not only being a coiner, but of also attempting to pass the spurious money. The case was tried at the Sessions House, and, although the prisoner stoutly maintained his innocence, he was convicted and sent to rigorous imprisonment. It was when this luckless man came out of prison that he confided the whole amazing story of his credulity and its results to the Sardar, to whom the information proved useful in the task of tracking down the heartless miscreants responsible for the priest’s undoing. That, how- ever, forms another story. This case is probably unique in the complete- ness of the ruin which overtook the dupe. Admitting that his credulity was colossal, the means by which he was victimized were remark- ably skilful and elaborate. All the parties who had taken part in it were consummate actors, and played their parts with faultless judgment. The supposed “ poor people” who were relieved at the mullah’s expense; the two munshis (who also disappeared after the priest was safely in the hands of the police); the smith in the bazaar ; and the old man who fought the sage on the hill, and who was not so old as he looked, were one and all confederates. The sage was, of course, the head of the gang, and planned everything, commencing his plot with the munshis as decoys. In all that happened sub- sequently there was not a single flaw. ‘The trick of changing a copper coin into a gold piece was performed by sleight of hand, in which these rascals were expert. ‘The gold coins were genuine, and were used as bait. It is probable that at one stage of the proceedings the mullah may have had some lurking suspicions concerning the proceedings, but he was then so pledged to the business that he dared not draw back. Moreover, the rogues thoroughly knew their victim and how to play upon his cupidity They, of course, did no stirring in the darkened room, this being a ruse under cover of which the “sage” got away. As a final malicious stroke, after having bled their victim, the bad coins were purposely given to Tyabjee by the munshis and the coining implements “ planted ” in his house to complete his ruin and_ pre- vent him from giving information about his persecutors. (To be concluded.) Vol. xviii.—69.

Page 555

The Village of “ Scissor-Grinder” Guides. By Cuarves CANDLER. Few of our readers, we imagine, are aware that the Italian knife-grinders who ply their trade in our streets form a close corporation, or that practically the whole of them come from one Alpine valley, whence they return periodically to assist in the farm-work. While at home, incongruously enough, many of the grinders act as guides to the tourists who visit their mountains. Mr. Candler gives some striking facts about this quaint community. HE torrent of the Sarca, after break- ing out of a wild Alpine gorge, takes ij an easier course for many miles a | down the broad and beautiful Val —— Rendena. The valley is very fertile, and is thickly set with populous villages. Wide stretches of irrigated meadowland are relieved here and there by bright patches of cultivation ; and little fields of glistening maize and golden barley, of dark green potatoes and pale yellow flax, alternate like the squares of a chessboard, and give to the landscape the semblance of a warm and richly-variegated carpet. It was on a hot July morning in_ this fascinating region that I made my first acquaintance with the scissor - grinders. I had climbed by a cobble-paved track, blazing with heat and rustling with lizards, to a point about two thousand feet above the village of Pinzolo, when, rounding a wooded spur, 1 came unexpectedly on a vy and lived in Clerkenwell, and was going back to that dismal region in a few weeks’ time. The account he gave me of himself and his fellow- craftsmen was briefly as follows. In the Val Rendena nearly every boy of energy and intelligence aspires to be a grinder of knives and scissors. The trade is easily learned, the capital required very small, and the earnings far in excess of anything that can be hoped for in his native valley. From the vicinity of Pinzolo alone there are at present about two hundred men in London working as grinders, and the men of the Rendena valley have almost a monopoly of this trade in many of the great cities of Germany, England, and the United States; Eastern and Southern Europe, where wages are lower, they leave alone. They do not seem to work in keen competition with each other, and they so arrange matters that there is always a sufficiency of able-bodied men party of haymakers. I begged in stammering Italian for a drink of milk, and, to my aston- ishment, was answered in the unmistakable accent and idiom of the London streets. Milk in_ plenty was brought from a neigh- bouring hut, and pre- sently a family group clustered round to observe the stranger and hear the talk, A bronzed, — powerfully- built fellow of about five-and twenty was my entertainer, and there was nothing in_ his dress, appearance, or present occupation to suggest anything but his native Alps. And yet he wasa Londoner A SCENE IN THE VILLAGE OF IINZOLO, WHERE LIVE THE ‘ SCISSOR-GRINDER " GUIDES. From a Photo,

Page 556

THE VILLAGE OF “SCISSOR-GRINDER” GUIDES. 547 Quite a number of the Bernese Ober- landers are now annually engaged as guides by the Cana- dian Pacific Railway, while everyone has heard of the annual migration of Italian labourers to reap the harvests of Argen- tina. The profits which some of the most successful — grinders are reported to have made seemed to me extraordinary. One of the best houses in Pinzolo was built by a man on the proceeds of only five years’ work From a) THE VILLAGE INN. [Phot0. in St. Louis, and at home to get in the hay and secure the summer’s produce of butter and cheese. For instance, my informant was the eldest of three brothers who shared two rooms in a house in Clerkenwell. The father stayed at home with the younger children, and one or other of the elder sons re- turned each year in May or June to help with the summer work. Many of the grinders, curiously enough, act as guides in their own mountains, and are duly licensed by the Society of Tridentine Alpinists, the authority having charge of guides, huts, paths, and matters Alpine in this district. Our own guide worked in Boston, Massachusetts. Strange to say, though an intelligent and pleasant companion, he knew scarcely a word of English. In Boston he lived in an Italian colony, and he told me he heard no other language. He was very proud of his few English words, however, and as we walked through the woods i of the Val di Genova he would point to the smoking mounds of the char- coal-burners and say, solemnly, “Coal, \ j coal.” In September he was going } back to America by the French line a from Havre, leaving his wife and children behind him in Tyrol. The peasant of Central Europe, however, A BOSTON, U.S.Ay SCISSOR-GRINDER ACTING AS A GUIDE ON HIS NATIVE thinks nothing of crossing the Atlantic. 0m a) MOUNTAINS. (Photo,

Page 557

548 MAGAZINE. THE WIDE WORLD “ VAHMESS other good houses in the valley were pointed out to us as belonging to grinders who had retired compara- tively early in life and come home to end their days with their own people. These houses are splendidly built in the old Roman spirit, without stint of labour or mate- rials, and it must be remembered that building sites in an Alpine village are by no means to be had for the asking. I found on in- quiry that the Lon- don grinders are not at all inclined to starve them- selves. In fact, they have almost the same standard of comfort as a young (Sr. JAMESS STREET, From a Mhoto. by|—KVNVICAL. GRINDER IN LONDON, [G. Newnes, Ltd. English workman. One man, probably a fair sample of the others, estimated his expenses in London at as much as four shillings a day, in addition to which he expended ten pounds every two or three years in revisiting his home. And yet he said he was saving money and was well satisfied with his position and pro- spects. It was curious to hear the views of these men on our grimy city. One day I sat with Simone Mattone on a fallen trunk looking out upon a scene of almost un- imaginable beauty. Simone himself seemed impressed and smoked silently, and I asked

Page 558

THE VILLAGE OF “SCISSOR-GRINDER” GUIDES. 549 him how he could leave such a country and go back to London. “Oh,” he said, “ this is fine ; but Yahmess is finer.” And a certain small brown Carlo at our feet looked up and nodded his assent. One day he, too, would go to “ Yahmess.” It was a long time before I could locate this mysterious “ Yahmess,” but it quite a homely place. Each grinder has his definite “round” and his own regular customers. Of course, they do not really depend on scissors alone, but will grind anything that wants an edge. Their mainstay seems to be the butcher, and they clean and sharpen knives for a number of hotels and large West-end houses, aid soon establish them- T now know it to be St. James's Street, Clerken- well. Itisa quiet little street, or rather court, of four or six- roomed cottages, buried away be- hind the church a little to the north of Clerk- enwell Green, and here I have run some of my Alpine acquaint- ances to earth. One might livein a worse place, and that is all that can be said about it. The neighbourhood is for the most part respectable and industrious, but very grey and dreary, and the chief diversion is the market in Exmouth Street. Rosebery Avenue is certainly a poor makeshift for the wonderful way through the chestnut woods to the pilgrimage chapel of St. Stefano; and the self-exiled grinder, always a good Catholic, as he looks on the uncompromising outlines of St. James's Church, must sometimes think with a sigh of the frescoed walls and beautiful surroundings of his own famous church of St. Vigilio in Pinzolo. Indeed, the life of this strange community of scissor-grinders, taking alternate spells of work in London and their native mountains, must be one of extraordinary contrasts. Lying one morning in glorious sunshine on the cushioned turf of the Lares Alp, and sharing with the hospitable herdsmen their breakfast of milk and “polenta,” one thought with a shiver of the winter grime and darkness of Central London. And yet some of these men appeared to find _ fe ©. A GROUP OF SCISSUR-GKINDERS ACTING AS HERDSMEN, From a Photo. selves on a com- fortable footing with the — ser- vants. “The cooks in Lon- don are very friendly people,” said Simone, ap- preciatively ; “they all call me ‘Sam.’” One obvious question will oc- cur to everyone who reads these pages—why can- not our people grind their own knives and scissors? There should not be much difficulty in acquiring the grinder’s art; the Pinzolo people themselves say there is none. Certainly no long apprenticeship is needed, and the cost of the necessary equip- ment is small. If only a bare subsistence were to be made out of the business one could understand the Englishman neglecting it. But the profits are quite substantial—often, indeed, sufficient to enable a_ hard - working man to retire with many years of active life before him. I am assured that some four or five hundred pounds a week are earned in London by the men of a single Alpine valley at this one curious trade. And this is only a single example of many humble but useful crafts which have passed from us into the hands of enterprising foreigners. No one will grudge the scissor-grinder his wages, for he is generally a quiet and industrious man and a good citizen. But it is a sad reflection that these strangers should find it worth their while to make the long journey from their mountain village to come here and take up work which might save many of our own unemployed from destitution.

Page 559

** Slippery WLetts.”’ By Epmunp G. Kinyon. How a young man in the service of an American railroad suddenly blossomed out as an expert criminal. He gave the authorities an infinity of trouble, and his frequent sensational escapes from custody earned him the nickname which heads this story. Many thousands of miles had to be traversed by the detectives, many revolver shots fired, and much money spent before this audacious jail-breaker was finally laid by the heels. alarm of fire was sounded in the j little town of Princeton, Kansas, on the hne of the great Atchison, — ‘Topeka, and Santa Fé railway. ‘Those who rushed out, in various stages of deshabille, discovered that the railway station- house was in flames. There being no fire- fighting apparatus, the little coop of a building was quickly consumed, together with all its contents. No night agent was maintained -at Princeton, and the day agent, Harry M. Letts, was sleeping in his room at the village hotel when the fire broke out. Letts was of the type of young men usually found in charge of way- side stations in America—of mediocre ability, unassuming, popular with the young ladies, and on speaking terms with everyone in the town. Letts made a satisfactory report to the company, saying that he had no knowledge of the fire’s origin ; that when he left his office at eight o’clock everything was in proper shape; and that he was en- tirely innocent of any negli- gence or inattention to duty. After the customary investiga- tion the report was accepted, the cause of the fire attributed to tramps, and the incident was apparently closed. A few days alterwards, however, Letts telegraphed his resignation from his box-car office, mentioning ill-health as his reason for wishing to quit the service of the company. He was promptly relieved, and forthwith dropped entirely out of the company’s ken. His accounts were straight ; he was apparently in no way responsible for the loss by fire; he wished to stop working, and was permitted to do so. Several weeks later Mr. H. H. Germain, chief secret service agent of the railway company, was sitting at his desk examining a couple of pas- senger tickets which had been secured from a “scalper” by one of his “spotters.” Noting “SLIPPERY LETTS.” From a Photo, the numbers printed upon the tickets and con- sulting a large record-book, he gave a low, meaning whistle, for the numbers disclosed the fact that the tickets belonged to the consider- able quantity supposed to have been destroyed in the Princeton fire. From that moment the fire incident was reopened, and gay young Harry Letts once more entered into the hearty concern of the great railway company. Before the chief left his desk he had started a chain of events which was to fasten the title of “ Slippery Letts” upon the callow, ailing, wayside agent, and develop him into one of the most skilful and elusive criminals of the day—a man seemingly proof against revolver bullets, and for whom jail - bars offered little restraint. The methods of the secret service department in finding and following clues are, of course, hidden from the public. It is sufficient for this nar- rative, therefore, to say that after several weeks of careful search it was positively estab- lished that Harry Letts burned the station-house at Princeton, after robbing the ticket-cabinet of all the unissued ticket- forms. With the aid and connivance ofan expert ticket manipulator the tickets were prepared for sale through ticket-brokers and represented a value of about forty thousand dollars. The manipulator was easily traced and arrested and a portion of the tickets were found in his posses- sion and confiscated. Then, as a matter of routine, little suspecting the temper of the man with whom they had to deal, the officials pro- ceeded to find and arrest Harry Letts. Following the trail of the ex-station agent the detectives located him in Kansas City, Missouri, and two of them called at his boarding-house one evening and requested him to accompany them to Ottawa, Kansas, where he was to be tried for his alleged crime. He consented quietly enough, and the three proceeded to the

Page 560

“SLIPPERY central station by boarding a street car. Near the station, just as they had left the car, each officer holding an arm of their prisoner, Letts suddenly threw the two men off and bolted. ‘They sprang after him, commanded him to halt without avail, and then, drawing their revolvers, fired point-blank at short range. Letts paid no LETTS.” 551 though Letts’s journey to the penitentiary would not be much longer delayed. But Letts had uo serious thought of digging coal for the State. He was confined in a small steel cell opening into a stcel corridor, in which during the day he was allowed to mingle with the other prisoners for exercise. One night he “LRETS SUDDENLY THEEW THE TWO MEN OFF AND BOLTED,” attention to their commands, but dodged into ‘the crowd and made his escape, to the great chagrin of the two redoubtable officers, who were again obliged to take up the weary trail. The pursuit led them hundreds of miles over the country, doubling here and there. The man had a sweetheart living at Ottawa, and it was surmised that he might go there to visit her. A watch was accordingly set, and sure enough he did that very thing, hazardous and foolhardy as it may seem. He was quickly captured by the local police, who lodged him in the county jail. Court was about to convene, and it looked as rigged up a dummy figure and stood it in his cell. When the jailer, all unsuspecting, came to lock the prisoners in, Letts flattened himself against the wall in a dark corner of the corridor and waited. ‘The jailer, with a careless glance at the dummy, fastened the cell and turned to pass out through the corridor door. Letts, following noiselessly behind, actually wriggled under the man’s arm and leaped through the office into the street! The jailer, recovering instantly from his surprise, dashed after him, revolver in hand, and fired at the fleeing man as he passed under a strong electric light; but

Page 561

552 THE WIDE Letts sprang away uninjured and soon escaped from the town. It was then that the baffled pursuers commenced to refer to him as “ Slip- pery Letts.” With untiring energy the Santa Fé officers again took up the trail and resumed their weary hunt. Months passed, and Letts was heard of down in the State of Texas. The trail became warm, and he was finally located in a small town, where he had secured employment. Mr. Germain, the chief, not wishing to take further chances, went himself to arrest the man and convey him back to prison. He learnt where Letts was boarding and sent a couple of local officers into the house while he remained to guard the door. Soon the men returned, leading their prisoner between them. The fugitive evidently did not fully comprehend the import of his arrest, for he walked along quietly until he caught sight of Germain; then, like a flash, he re- peated his former tactics, threw off his two captors, and bolted. Ger- main knew well the desperate character of the man, and was prepared for just such an occur- rence. His revolver, which he knew well how to use, came into instant play, but Letts ran off unharmed, dodging along the street seeking for cover. It was daylight and the straggling village afforded him no hiding-place, so that he was quickly run down and captured. Handcuffed and manacled, “ Slippery Letts” was taken back to Ottawa and lay in his cell for five months awaiting trial. When the Court was convened he was tried and convicted and a day fixed when he should receive his sentence —a term of years in the State penitentiary. Before the date arrived Letts again escaped “LETTS CRAWLED THROUGH TO LIFERTY. WORLD MAGAZINE. from the jail. By the use of tools smuggled in by confederates, he accomplished the seemingly impossible feat of tearing a hole through the steel floor of his cell. ‘Then he dug down into the hard earth and tunnelled a long distance to the foundation wall. This wall was constructed of large granite blocks set in cement. The enterprising Letts removed one of the blocks and crawled through to liberty ! For several months after this the fugitive kept under cover and the detectives could get no trace of him. Then a clue developed and he was once more located—this time working as a farm hand in Michigan. To avoid frighten- ing his quarry the chief decided not to send his men to make the arrest, but asked the local sheriff to take him into custody and to guard him day and night. The sheriff drove to the farm where Letts was employed and found his man working in the field. He readily agreed to accom- pany the sheriff, but all the time his fertile brain was seeking an avenue of escape. As they ap- proached the house, Letts asked to be allowed to enter and get his overcoat, as the weather was cool. The sheriff agreed and stood in the open door, keeping a close watch upon his prisoner. Instead of securing his coat, Letts sprang through a room and out of the back door of the house. A quarter of a mile distant was a patch of woodland. The fugitive started for this cover on a dead run, with the sheriff in hot pursuit, firing his revolver. It was a close and exciting race, and the officer, having exhausted one revolver, drew another and emptied that also, but all to no purpose. Letts gained the cover, dodged into the brush, and found a

Page 562

“SLIPPERY LETTS.” 553 “THE FUGITIVE STARTED FOR THIS COVE HIS hiding-place. At night he crept away and escaped from the country-side, although the wood was surrounded and extraordinary efforts made to recapture him. Once more the railway detectives took up the trail. They followed “Shppery Letts” to Canada, and found where he had tarried briefly in many places, but he never remained long enough in one locality to be caught. Then he was traced back into the United States; to New York and other cities of the east; always dis- appearing just as the officers were about to arrest him. Finally, he dropped out of sight entirely, and nothing was heard of him for several months. ‘The secret service men were of the opinion that he had escaped to some foreign country, and their surmises proved to be true. Recently and quite unexpectedly, through one of his many avenues of information, Chief Vol. xviii. 70 THOTHE SHERIFF IN UOT PURSUIT, FIRING ER" Germain learned that Letts was in the Panama Canal zone, working as a te'egraph operator for the United States Government. He did not cable the officers to arrest him—that plan had failed too often. Instead, he detailed two of his most trusted men to make the long journey to South America and secure the fugitive. Armed with the proper extradition papers and passports, the men set out upon their mission, Weeks passed, and then came a cablegram saying that “Slippery Letts” was once more in custody, and that he would be returned to his own country immediately. ‘Ihe two officers had rushed in upon him unexpectedly and handcuffed him, at the muzzle of a revolver. They were, moreover, acting under strict and unusual orders. From the moment they placed their hands upon the surprised operator in his Panama office until they delivered him to the penitentiary one of them was handcuffed to him constantly, day Digitized ty GOOQTE Cc

Page 563

554 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZI and night. To bolt, or to trick or dig his way to liberty was impossible. His only recourse would have been to attack his keeper, and that he had never shown a disposition to do, and did not attempt. In due time the journey was completed, and after the necessary legal details were adjusted Harry Letts was incarcerated in the frowning State prison, there open in broad daylight in the very face of bristling revolvers with cool and experienced men behind them. In all, during the chase, over forty shots were fired at him, most of them at short range. He never received so much as a scratch, and a feeling amounting ‘almost to a conviction prevailed among the officers that some supernatural power protected him. His “THE TWO OFFICERS HANDCUPFED HIM, AT THE MUZZLE OF A REVOLVER.” to pay, in remorse and toil, the long deferred “penalty for burning the station and stealing the property of the railway company. In many respects Harry Letts must be classed as one of the most remarkable criminals of the day. For a man to break away and run when he knows to a certainty that he will be fired upon with deadly intent evidences an unusual willingness to take desperate chances. Letts never hesitated for an instant to bolt in the original offence was not very remarkable—the company deals with more serious ones every month—but subsequently he caused the secret service department more trouble than any other criminal, big or little, with whom it has had to deal. Not counting his original pecula- tions, his escapades cost the company over five thousand dollars in cash, while the distance travelled by its detectives, if a record had been kept, would aggregate many thousands of miles. (

Page 564

: THE COMPANY OF MERCY. By E. ALEXANDER PowELL, F.R.G.S. An interesting description of the masked ‘Brethren of the Misericordia,” who for close on seven hundred years have acted as ministering angels to the sick and poor of Florence. Under the sombre cowl and cassock of the fraternity prince and plebeian alike sink their identity; and no matter what work a member may be engaged in, he must leave it at once and report for duty when the great bell of the brotherhood calls him. N Florence, under the shadow of @) Giotto’s marble tower, stands the oratory of the Company of Mercy, better known, perhaps, as the Fraternity of the Misericordia. Alone and unaided, this remarkable orgamiz3- tion has nursed the sick, tended the injured, and buried the dead of Florence for close on seven hundred years. Founded by a_ poor facchino, or porter, the order has grown in strength and influence until to-day it numbers among_ its members representatives of nearly every noble house in Tuscany. The King of Italy 1s the head of the fraternity, an archbishop is its treasurer, and princes of the Royal line, dukes, counts, and marquesses feel honoured in wearing the sombre cowl and _ cassock of the order and in_per- forming the menial services demanded of its members. As a result of its many centuries of effective ser- vice the Misericordia has become the most popular as well as the most useful institution in Florence, carrying on its work with remarkable system and efficiency. The order dates back to 1240, when Florence was just embarking on her career of commercial prosperity. It seems to have originated, strangely enough, among the body of porters, or facchini, a rough and robust class of men, even in that age A TYPICAL MEMRER OF THE SINISTER-LOOKING COSTUME AND HOOD From a Photo, THE MISERICORDIA, SHOWING I n of lax morality notorious for their amazing profanity, and down to our own day the terror and vexation of travellers. One of their number, by name Pietro Borsi, holding the rank of fore- man, suddenly developed religious mania, and, scandalized at the vicious conduct of his brother porters, had the fine inspiration of at once reforming their vices and employing their idle 5 moments. while hanging * about waiting for work in the Piazza del Duomo by a most characteristic and appropriate charity. He persuaded them to fine each other for swearing— a soldi for cach blasphemy —a mutual tax, _ half humorous, half pious, which pleased the rough fellows. Then he induced them to buy litters with the money thus collected and to give, each in his turn, a por- tion of his time to the service of the sick and wounded, victims of accident and disease to the hospital and the dead to burial. ‘The moneys—collected in a box placed in the Piazza del Duomo on the very spot where the oratory of the order now stands — soon amounted to a sum _ suf- cient to purchase — six hospital beds—also at the suggestion of Pietro—-one for each quarter of the city, and to employ porters to carry to them those who met with accidents in the streets or were stricken with sudden disease. so warlike a_ city as Florence, amid all the ( - +L ered carrying the © Ee RE A Se eS Ea | f

Page 565

556 THE disturbances of the thirteenth century, the inembers of the society no doubt found occupa- tion and to spare, and this spontaneous good work, devised by the people for the people, marks one of the finest and most characteristic features of the charity of the Middie Ages. The institution grew, as might be expected, developing into “greater formality and more extended operations, but always retaining the same object. It speedily attracted the notice of the richer classes, numbers of whom joined the porters, bringing with them funds by means of which suitable buildings and appliances were provided. In 1423 the fraternity was officially organized under the auspices of the municipal authorities, or, rather, with their permission, the control being vested in eight capoguardia, or captains, a notary, and a superintendent. ‘The members, or brethren, as they prefer to be called, now numbered several hundred and were drawn from all ranks of society. At this period the members When on duty wore a gown or cassock of red linen completely covering their persons, and a hood, with three holes pierced in it for light and air, which as effectually concealed their features, the whole forming a perfect disguise of a most lugubrious and sinister aspect, particularly when, as during epidemics, the colour was changed to black. This last is the colour now retained for all occasions. Contrary to many accounts, this dress was in reality no sign of mysterious shame and expiation, but was designed originally merely as a precaution against any trafficking on the part of the brethren in the gratitude of their patients, from whom they were, and still are, allowed to receive nothing more than a draught of water, the first and cheapest of necessities. From being, as at first, a democratic body recruited from the ranks of the humbtlest citizens, the Misericordia speedily became what it has ever since remained, an aristocratic organization sustained by the noble and wealthiest classes. This is not to say, however, that the original element has been entirely climinated, for the muster-rolls of the society still contain the names of citizens of the humblest stations— porters, cab-drivers, artisans, and the like mingling on equal terms, while wearing the dress of the order, with princes, dukes, mar- quesses, counts, and barons. ‘The political and social leaders of Florentine society, in short, became active and zealous members, further- ing the objects of the fraternity with their wealth as well as performing the menial and other services required of them, protected from public recognition by the masked dress they wore. A prince of the Strozzi family— WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. one of the oldest and proudest of the great Tuscan houses—fell a victim to a contagious disease he acquired while performing the duties of the order. The late King Humbert, only a few months befare he died by an assassin’s hand at Monza, took his two days’ term of service with the Misericordia, helping to bear the sick and injured through the streets of Florence, his presence being quite unknown to the populace, or, in fact, to many of his fellow-brethren. The present secular head of the fraternity is King Victor Emmanuel III., and its ecclesiastical chief is the Archbishop of Florence. ‘The order is composed of seventy-two chief guards, of whom thirty are priests and forty-two laymen, and in addition to whom there are a hundred and seventy-five brothers, twenty-five being assigned to daily service, with fifteen super- numeraries in case of need. Besides this active force there is an unlimited number of volunteers —at present something over a thousand—who can be called upon in cases of exceptional neces- sity. The members of the active force serve in squads for twenty-four hours at a time, when another set is substituted, the members being informed several wecks in advance of the date when they will be expected to report for duty, and making their arrangements accordingly. Candidates for admission must be over eighteen years of age, be Roman Catholics, have means of livelihood, and be of good health and morals. Certain classes, such as cobblers, hucksters, butchers, and _ strolling actors, are excluded. ‘The work is not only voluntary, but each member pays a fixed sum yearly—five lire in the case of those who take active service, and a larger sum for those who do not. The wealthier members take the occa- sion of the feast of St. Sebastian—the patron saint of the order—to make large donations to the society, these unsolicited gifts frequently amounting to many thousands cf lire. ‘The executive business is managed by a committee of six: one high ecclesiastic, one nobleman, two priests, and two workmen. There are, in addition, six councillors, two overseers of patients, a purveyor, chancellor, accountant, clerk, and chamberlain, two physicians, two porters, and two servants. Following an ancient custom the physicians receive fifty-five lire annually, a goose at All Saints’ Day, a lamb at Laster, two candles at the Purification, and some blessed loaves of bread at St. Sebastian. Other officers are presented with pepper and candles, according to rank. Sick members receive a daily gift of from fifty to eighty centesimi, while to the needy and indigent small sums of money are distributed monthly and on _ festivals.

Page 566

THE COMPANY OF MERCY. 557 From a] MEMBERS OF THE AMIE All members are entitled to a burial and religious exercises according to their posi- tion, those accorded the higher officers of the order being frequently of a very elaborate nature. When a cafoguardia dics the funeral is held in the Church of the Misericordia, and, as a sign to the people, a splendid gold- embroidered catafalque is raised half outside the entrance door. At present the chief duty of the s transport the indigent to the hospitals, also all those who meet with accidents in the streets, or, if dead, to carry away their corpses. Dead bodies, if applied for, are consigned to their famili others are charitably buried with suit- able religious rites. On the tolling of the great bell of the Misericordia those on duty for the day must leave their occupations, whatever they may be, hurry to the oratory, assume their masks and gowns, take up the litters, and march with all haste to the spot indicated. The labourer drops his tools, the clerk his pen, the artist his brush, the man of fashion deserts his club, his dinner, or his ball at the summons of the bell and hurries to the scene. From the sound of the bell one can understand what has happened, and when the Florentines hear it ring twice, which means an accident, they gather around the oratory for further news. Sometimes the bell rings twice, and after a short interval three times ; this means that the misfortune has been followed by death. ‘ Although the litters used for carrying the dead and the injured closely resemble each other, that ociety is to used for a dead body is covered with a black pall having embroidered in each corner a huge skull and cross-bones ; should the person be still living, these emblems of death are folded back. The brethren never unveil their faces, but if, when nursing a sick person, they are obliged to raise their hood, they are forbidden by the strictest rules of the order to recognise the people around them, even though they should be their most intimate friends. On returning from their work of mercy the first two brethren who put foot on the threshold of the church, turning to the next two, say, “ Dio gliene renda mertto” (May God reward you) ; and their companions answer, “ Ancora a “i” (And you also). This form of salutation is repeated along the line until the last two have entered. When the Misericordia pass along the streets of Florence, so great is the respect in which the brotherhood is held that every man raises his hat reverentially. Not long ago a grand ball was being given in one of the splendid palaces that line the Lungarno in honour of a prince of the reigning House It was midnight, and the gaiety was at its height. Dukes, marquesses, and counts, army officers and diplomats, were among the guests. Suddenly the sounds of merriment were hushed as the deep-toned bell of the Misericordia boomed forth its — summons. Almost instantly, but quietly and unobtru- sively, a score of the aristocratic guests, eee ee iC

Page 567

558 among them the Royal guest of honour, dis- appeared from the merry throng. A quarter of an hour later the tramp of many feet sounded on the stairs and a score of masked and _ black- robed figures, bearing a litter, appeared at the entrance to the ball-room. Quite unknown to the majority of the guests, a lady had been taken deathly ill in one of the dressing-rooms, and word, as is usual in such cases, had been sent to the Misericordia. The members on duty for that day, being for the most part at the ball, had hastened to their head-quarters and donned their sombre garb, only to find that they were summoned to the gay scene they had just quitted in such haste. What a scene for a painter that must have been-—the brilliant ball-room, its flushed and startled dancers blazing with jewels and decorations, the white shoulders of the women, the uniforms of the men, the lights, the music, and the liveried servants with their frightened faces, and in the doorway the little group of silent, sinister, black-garbed figures ~ standing about their sombre litter ! In recent years the Misericordia has availed itself of the aid of many modern appliances. The summons of the great bell has been largely replaced by the tinkle of the telephone, and the antiquated litters have given way to up-to-date wheeled stretchers hung on the easiest of springs. For the sick who are able to sit up a clever device has been introduced in the form of a B MISERICORDIA LIAVE E IR THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. miniature cab, drawn by hand, being, but for the absence of the driver's seat, an exact reproduction in miniature of a London hansom. The operations of the Misericordia now cover not only the whole of Florence, but most of the outlying suburbs within a radius of five miles, the brethren going as far afield as Fiesole, San Miniato, and Certosa. The brotherhood still occupy the quarters in which they were installed by the Grand Duke Francesco I. in 1576, performing their sad and pious services under the original laws of 1491. From the fourteenth to the seventeenth century Florence was devastated twenty-two times by deadly epidemics, in ail of which the Fraternity of the Misericordia eminently dis- tinguished itself, as it has in the present century during the prevalence of Asiatic cholera in 1334-5 and in 1855, since which time, owing to improved sanitary measures, there have been no extraordinary calls upon it. Florence, with a population of more than two hundred thousand souls, stands unique among the cities of the world in possessing no municipal ambulance service of any name or nature, depending for the transportation of its injured, the removal of its sick, and the burial of its dead entirely upon the gratuitous services of these masked and hooded brethen who go so silently about their splendid, self-imposed task under the significant title of the Company of Mercy. DRATORY ON A DEATH-CALL {Phote.

Page 568

THE MUMMY HEAD: A Strange Story of the Occult. By C. Minuican Fox. THE FAMOUS TEMPLES OF THEBRS—THE CROSS IN THE RIGHT-HAND CORNER INDICATES THR SPOT WHERE MR, ALEFOUNDER From a) FOUND THE MUMMY, (Photo. We publish this remarkable narrative without comment, leaving our readers to form their own opinion upon it. The author vouches absolutely for the truth of the incidents described, and Mr. Alefounder for the portions dealing with his own experiences. went to Egypt on a visit. Here they stayed at different places, in- cluding the interesting town of Luxor. Near Luxor, of course, are the famous Temples of Thebes, now in ruins, and the tombs of by- gone Egyptian kings. These, unfortunately, are now shorn of most of their splendour, for the Arabs frequently rifled them and robbed the occupants of their ornaments, afterwards throwing the mummies care- lessly into the sand. The Egyptians, { should further state, believed in a future life, and to them the careful embalming of the dead was full of meaning, for the “ka,” or spirit, was sup- MR. TH From a\ FEW years ago Mr. George Ale founder married my friend Miss F—-—, and subsequently the couple Faver. RGE ALRFOUNDER, WHO BROUGHT {Y HEAD HOME WITH HIM. FROM (Phote. posed to have its dwelling in the mummy of the deceased. Hence the idea of preserving the body for the residence of the “ka,” who would other- wise be doomed to wander miserably without a home. But to return to my story. One day,the Alefounders were returning from a trip to Thebes, on camels, when, about a quarter of a mile from the temples, Mr. Alefounder’s mount stumbled and pitched him off. When the accident happened the couple were almost exactly at the spot marked X in the photograph which is repro- duced above. As Mr. Alefounder scrambled to his feet, more shaken than hurt, a dark object in the sand attracted his atten- tion. Scraping away the earth and pulling it out, he found to his astonishment that it was a mummy, in an excellent state of ee ee aT eee eee

Page 569

560 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “HE SEVERED THE WKAPYED-UP HEAD PROM THE BODY WITH HIS HUNTING-KNIFE, preservation. It had evidently, however, been despoiled of its ornaments. As it was impossible to convey the whole body home, Mr. Alefounder, bent on securing some memento of his curious discovery, severed the wrapped-up head from the body with his hunting-knife, and returned with his gruesome trophy to his hotel. Later on the mummy head was conveyed to England in one of Mrs. Alefounder’s bonnet- boxes. The home of the Alefounders was at first near Brighton, where the mummy head was occasionally displayed and attracted much interest among the few people who saw it. While living there the young couple met with much bad luck. Mr. Alefounder indulged in many hobbies, none of which seemed to prosper. His prize poultry—he had embarked in poultry farming on a large scale—died off in a most mysterious manner, and his wife, usually a most healthy young lady, was always ill. In fact, to put it briefly without going into private details, nothing seemed to go well in connection with their affairs, Ere long the Alefounders removed to another town, carrying the mummy head along with them, but still things did not improve—-bad luck seemed to follow them consistently. Some time afterwards, having completely for- gotten all about his mummy head, Mr. Ale- founder chanced to become interested in a work on psychic phenomena, and it occurred to him that he would like to visita “medium” and see for himself how these mysterious people worked —incidentally, perhaps, extracting a little amuse- ment from the proceedings. He was, it should be stated, by no manner of means a convert to spiritualism ; he was, on the contrary, decidedly sceptical. Acting on the advice of a friend, he bought a copy of the spiritualistic magazine, Light, and perused its advertisement columns for the names and addresses of some mediums, several of which he jotted down at random. This was on a Wednesday, and noticing that one of the mediums—a Mr. Ronald Brailey— held séances on that day, Mr. Alefounder decided to yo and see him that very afternoon. He arrived at the house somewhat late, asked for Mr. Brailey, and was shown into a room where several other ladies and gentlemen were waiting. From first to last Mr. Alefounder was not asked for his name, nor did he volunteer it.

Page 570

When the medium ap- peared he arranged his visitors around him, placing Mr. Alefounder on his right hand. He then asked those present who wished to com- municate with “dear ones who had passed over” to place some object connected with them ona tray. Several of the visitors accordingly placed rings, trinkets, etc., on the salver offered them. Mr. Alefounder, however, declared that he did not particularly wish to com- municate with anyone, but if any spirit wished to speak to him, well and good. Soon after Mr. Brailey appeared to pass into a sort of trance. After a time he became strangely agitated, and, turning to Mr. Alefounder, said: “ There is communicate with you. someone I see,” the medium added, dreamily, “clouds of dust rising round THE MUMMY MR. RONALD BRAILEY, THE MEDIUM ALFFOUNDER CONSULTED WITH SUCH From a) RESULTS. who wishes to HEAD. C3) WHOM MR. REMARKABLE (Photo. 561 a figure that is approach- ing and pointing to its— Ah! the figure is headless ! It is trying hard to com- municate with you, but the influence is not sufficiently strong.” Mr. Alefounder was con- siderably startled at this un- canny communication, but, on being questioned, promptly and emphatically denied any knowledge of what Brailey could be talk- ing of. He knew no decapi- tated men, he said, and left the room saying he felt very much disappointed with the result of the interview. Puzzling over Mr. brailey’s strange words, and without a_ thought that they might have any reference to his mummy head, which he had completely forgotten, Mr. Alefounder proceeded to another spiritualist —a Mme. Greck. She, to his bewilderment, Vol. xviiii—71. PRAILEY APPEARED TO PASS INTO A SORT OF TRA:

Page 571

562 THE WIDE proceeded to outline practically the same scene as described by Brailey, adding, as he had done, that the figure wanted to speak but could not do so. Pressed to further particularize the locality where the headless figure was, she said that she saw “high cliffs, with sand and buildings at the foot of them”—an excellent description of Thebes, the place where the mummy was found. On reaching home Mr. Alefounder laughingly related his strange interviews to his wife. “T can’t understand it,” he told her. “Why should they both tell me the same nonsensical T don’t know story about a headless man? anything about any head.” “Why,” cried the lady, excitedly, “they must mean the mummy head you brought from Egypt!” “Great Scot!” said her husband, astonished in his turn. “I never thought of that. The head shall go back to Egypt without delay; I’ve had enough of this.” Overjoyedatthe thought of getting rid of the gruesome-looking curio, Mrs. Alefounder set to work tofind a suitable box for packing it in. After consulting a friend, who knew an Egyptian Bey in Cairo, Mr, Alefounder directed the box to him, asking him to have the head re-buried at Thebes. Meanwhile he paid another visit to Mr. Brailey — without giving him any informa- tion whatever. The medium again had a vision of the headless apparition, and informed Mr. Alefounder that he looked like’ an ancient Egyptian priest, carrying a roll of papyri in his hand. Once more the figure intimated its desire to speak to Mr. Alefounder, but appeared unable to do so. On July 30th, 1906, the writer, who had gone over to Ireland on a visit, attended a tennis party and was introduced to some strangers. One of the ladies immediately began to relate how she had been at a dinner at Cairo given in honour of her husband, a professor, where everything WORLD MAGAZINE. was carried out in Egyptian style; even the menus, she said, consisted of littke mummies holding parchment scrolls in their hands. At this point my sister, Mrs. W , mindful of the mummy head episode, of which I had told her, said, impulsively, “I hope you don’t keep mummies in your house ; they are terribly unlucky.” “Indeed I do,” the lady replied, smiling. “We have had a strange experience lately in connection with mummies. A head which had been sent back from England in a zine case was handed to my husband to be unrolled and catalogued.” “Surely I know that mummy!” I exclaimed, in surprise. “Did it not come from the Ale- founders of A ae “Ves,” said Mrs. X——; “and here comes my husband, who will tell you how the head came into his keeping.” ‘The professor told me that the box, addressed to an Egyptian Bey, had been handed over by him to M-——, the chief of the police in Cairo. He sent it on to the museum, where Dr. X——, my in- formant, unrolled it for the purpose of examining it Dr. X—— found the head to be a particularly handsome one, and I append the professor's precise description: “The head was that of a young, clean-shaven man, with short, curly hair. From the nature of the wrappings the body must have been embalmed in Ptolemaic times. The features were of an unusual type and not atall Egyptian. ‘The teeth were perfect.” There was one peculi- arity which had not been noticed in connection with the many other mummies examined, and that was that on the back of the head was a small cap-like structure of tissue which must have been the lung or stomach of the mummy itself. Another scientist — perhaps the foremost authority on mummies in Egypt—was keenly interested on hearing of Mr, Brailey’s descrip-

Page 572

THE tion of the roll of papyri under the headless figure’s arm, owing to the fact that it was the custom to bury priests with the “ Book of the Dead,” and from the wrappings he was able to say definitely that the head be- longed to a priest of about 2,000 B.C. On my arri- val in London in October, having been supplied by Mr. Ale- founder with a fragment of the mummy wrapping, I visited Ronald Bra‘ley for the first time, and asked for a private séance. After Brailey became entranced he said, in a slow, deliberate voice :— “T wish to thank you for your good will and interest in the reburial of my head. The meeting in Ireland was arranged in the spirit world to let you know that my head now reposes in Egypt. It is not, however, buried within the ruins of the temple, but m the sand outside. If you can arrange that for me my gratitude will accompany you during your earthly life. Once I was a priest in the ‘Temple of Thebes, and a maker of incense. After a period of _per- secution I had to leave the temple, but returned shortly before my death. My father was a Greek and my mother a native of Persia. Again I thank you, and remem- ber, the Egyptian will be grateful.” The medium then stopped speaking, sighed heavily, and after a time came back to his normal con- dition. Brailey then made two MUMMY “IME MEDIUM THEN STOLPED SPEAKING AND SIGHED HEAVILY.” oF AIK, KONALD KRAILFY'SSKETCH ov THE MUMMY HEAD, AS. “SEEN CLAIRVOVANTLY "RY MIM, HEAD. 563 spirit sketches of the priest as “seen clair- voyantly” by him. ‘These are here repro- duced. Mr. Alefounder states that the first tallies ex- actly with the shape of the head as it ap- peared in its wrappings when in his possession. He, of course, never saw the head divested its cover- ings. It will be seen, also, that the sketch is almost identical with the professor’s description of the head when unwrapped. After my interview with Mr. Brailey I wrote to Cairo and asked Dr. X to see that the head was - buried inside the temple, but I have not yet heard whether this request had been carried out. In conclusion I should mention that the mediums employed knew absolutely nothing about the strange history of the curio. Two hours before he visited him Mr. Alefounder was unaware that such a person as Mr. Ronald Brailey existed, and the latter had no means of ascertaining Mr. Ale- founder’s identity or con- necting him with matters Egyptian. ‘The theory of “ thought - reading ” may also be dismissed, for, as has been stated, at the time of his visit to the medium Mr. Ale- founder had absolutely forgotten the existence of his uncanny curio, and, moreover, knew nothing about Egypt- ology. The same re- marks apply to the séance with the second spiritualist. MR. BRAILEY's SKETCH OF THE EGYPTIAN PRIEST.

Page 573

WipEWorLD PicTURE TOURS J sal This map shows the routes across Canada from Quebec to Vancouver. The numbers correspond with those ‘on the Photographs. “ personally= conducted Our latest departure— chatty descriptions of interesting journeys, each illustrated by at least a hundred photo- graphs, showing every step, so to speak, of the route traversed. By the aid of these articles and pictures you may make tours” all over the world without quitting your fireside arm-chair. We propose to make a start with the British Empire, and accord- ingly our first trip is across the great Domin- ion of Canada from the Atlantic to the Pacific, while the wonders of the fertile prairies, the scenic glories of the Rockies, and the sights of the most important cities en route unfold themselves before our eyes. Photographs by kind permission of the Canadian Government .. Agency and the x Canadian Pacific Saas Railway Com- pany.

Page 574

ATLANTIC OCEAN Q BEC, the starting- point of our journey of three thousand one hundred and _ sixty-one miles from the Atlantic to the Pacific, is, perhaps, the most interesting city on the North American Continent. An hour's Montreal from Mount Royal 12. Dominion Square, Montreal drive in the old-fashi- oned caltche—the cab of Quebec — makes . us acquainted with the streets and fortifications. ty Passing through the oT market-place, with its ; throng of Aadstants from the surrounding coun- try, we pass under the St. Louis Gate—one of three similar survivals of the French occupa tion—on to the Plains of Abraham, where a monument marks the spot on which Wolfe fell in the hour of victory. Returning to on.

Page 575

560 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Dufferin ‘Terrace, we enjoy from this lofty pro- Lawrence, and tear ourselves away for an menade an all-too-brief view of the noble St. excursion to the famous Montmorency Falls, eight miles from Quebec, before 4 taking train to Montreal. Montreal is dis- tant one hundred and seventy - three miles, and the jour- ney occupies from 11.30 p.m. till 6.30 am. Arriving at a nificent railway station, one passes at once into the splendid Dominion Square, surrounded by stately buildings. After walking through St. James's Street, the chief business thorougn- fare, we make our way up to Mount Royal Park, from which picturesque eminence a_bird’s- eye view of the whole of this, the largest city in Canada, is to be, obtained. Leaving Montreal at 9.40 a.m. we are in Ottawa —which is one hundred and sixteen miles west- ward—three hours later. An interval of nine hours in the capital of the Dominion enables some time to be at 0 eee spent at the pala- —————— tial Parliament is Buildings. Next ———

Page 576

WIDE WORLD PICTURE ‘TOURS. 67 wn in order is a visit to the Governor-General’s workshops for thorough overhauling, is just long residence, Rideau Hall, two miles from the city. enough to gain a vivid idea of the Chicago of Having had a glimpse of the Rideau Falls near Canada. Passing out of the busy station a walk the point where the river of this name joins the Ottawa, were turn to the city to admire its fine resi dential roads, and to realize its commercial importance, as indica- ted by the busy scene in the market-place. A long day’s run from Montreal takes us to the shores of Lake Superior. The high waves, clearly visible from the carri age-window, render it difficult of realization that this is an inland lake and not the open sea. At the head of the lake is Fort Wil- liam. In this part of thecountry the timber mills suggest that lumbering is the prin cipal industry, but as the borders of Mani toba are approached J ein t> wheat - fields, grain | 36. Main Street, Calgary pager elevators, and cattle- — ————— tanches testify to agricultural prosperity, an electrical threshing machine giving an im- pression of the up-to date methods followed in its pursuit. An hour’s wait at Winni- peg, during which time Ss! the train is sent tothe [4 ee ot 42. Kananaskis Falls}

Page 577

568 up Main Street brings us in a few minutes to the ‘ imposing City Hall. ‘This building, together with Winnipeg College, forms an impressive contrast to Fort Garry—the old Hud- son Bay Company’s out- post, from which Winnipeg has grown in thirty years to a population of a hun- dred thousand. ‘The view of some hundreds of cattle being loaded for transport to the East gives a signi- ficant hint as to the sources of Winnipeg’s marvellous progress. Arun of about fifty miles brings us to the flourishing market town of Portage-la- Prairie, and another eighty miles to Brandon, the cele- brated centre of what is, perhaps, the finest grain- producing country in the world. About one hundred and fifty miles separates Brandon from Regina, the capital of the province of Saskatchewan. It is a run of five hundred miles to the next important town— Calgary—and as it is mostly high, level prairie, comparatively good speed is maintained. In the neighbourhood of the few rough stations at which the train stops some character- istic prairie scenes may be observed. At Calgary the white peaks of the Rockies sixty miles away are clearly in view. Just before the en- trance to the mountains— called “The Gap” — is reached, the roar of the Kananaskis Waterfall is heard above the din of the train; the water comes tumbling down from the Bow River, which has its source in glaciers. At “The Gap” the train passes be- tween two almost vertical walls of seemingly infinite height. Then begins the long climb of the moun- THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. d 53. Lakes. in the Clouds

Page 578

WIDE WORLD PICTURE TOURS. 569 —————— y tain passes, , the crawling motion giv- p ing one wel- come oppor- tunity of fully enjoying the — magnifi- cent views which open out on either side. To the left of this station are the grace- ful forms of =) “The Three Sisters,” the tallest of the three having an altitude of nearly ten thousand feet. In front of us, seemingly close but really miles away, is re solid mass of the Cascade Mountain. In striking contrast 61. Cathedral Peak . . . ° (L- to its frowning face is the || beauty of the Bow River Valley, through which the train glides along to Banff, the station for the Cana- dian National Park and Hot Springs. The “ Park,” which includes _ several rivers and mountains, is the largest in the world, being half as large again as the Yellowstone National Park of the United States. Banff has an excellent hotel with bathing pools at the hot lakes (reached by a fine corkscrew road along the mountain - side), not to yeak of aherd of buffaloes, are even in North-West ‘anada. About fifteen miles from Banff we reach the great turreted height (about eleven thousand feet) which has been named Castle Mountain. Twenty miles farther on and we are in the midst of the superbly beautiful caggan district, with its lakes in the clouds and panorama of _ glaciers. Lake Louise, two and a half miles from Laggan Vol. xviii. — 72.

Page 579

570 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Station, and Lake ||| Agnes, about another mile ||} ’ higher up the mountains, | » Leaver Gates and are gems of perfect loveli- ness. At Lake Louise there is a comfortable hotel, and the view to be enjoyed from its porch is ever to be remembered. Having passed through the Valley of the Ten Peaksand past the Horse- shoe Glacier, the train struggles up to Mount Stephen Station, the summit of the Rockies. Mount Stephen, named in honour of the first president of the Canadian Pacific Rail- way, rises sublimely against the sky. Its peak left behind, there is a rapid run down the Pacific Slope. Pass- ing the spires of Cathedral Mountain the station of Vield is reached, with its fine hotel, the Mount Stephen. This is a favourite — stopping- place for Alpinists who want a stiff climb up Mount Stephen, for which purpose Swiss guides are stationed here during the sum- mer months. At Emerald Lake, in the vicinity, fishermen have a veritable para- dise. Near this lake =r, F -_ = Pe Glacier Garden’ If

Page 580

WIDE WORLD PICTURE ‘TOURS. 571 are the Twin Falls, twogracefulcataracts. . Kamloops Lak Twenty miles from Field, near Palliser Station, we obtain a glimpse of the Kicking Horse Canyon—a nar- row gorge or cleft in the mountains, the first of a series of canyons on the Pacific Slope. About thirty miles farther is Beavermouth, and near here the train enters the Selkirks range through the gate of the Beaver River. Stony Creek Bridge is three hundred feet high —one of the loftiest railway bridges in ; the world, Another hun- = =a dred miles or so brings phrenes RNS | is toan enchanting spot, | Glacier, with its pictur- esque hotel and Alpine garden close to a mar- vellous scene of snow and_ ice. Revelstoke, farther on, is the june- tion for Arrow Lake and the Kootenay mining district, whilst Sicamous serves the same pur- pose for Okanagan Lake and the fertile district round Vernon, where Lord Aberdeen has a house and farm. Shuswap, our next stopping-place, is noted for its apple orchards. Kamloops Lakeclaimsattention,

Page 581

572 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. and then the irri- gation flumes at Spence's Bridge. At Lyttonwereach the Fraser River, famous for its sal- mon. ‘The track crosses the river by Cariboo Bridge, and in a few minutes the train reaches North Bend, where there is a fine hotel amidst striking scenery. After leaving the Fraser Canyon the train passes on to Yale, a centre of the ——2) mining — industry, and Agassiz. At Mission Junction we reach Mount Baker and_ pass through a comparatively level, wooded district to Westminster Junction for New Westminster, head- quarters of the salmon trade. A run of twenty- seven miles brings us toour journey’s end, Vancouver, where an interesting day can be spent visiting Stanley Park, the bathing beach, and the shores of the natural harbour, where large ocean vessels are often seen. And so ends our trip across the great Dominion.

Page 582

QUEER FIXES. By Frank J. Dwyer, EK. N. Woo.rorp, AND H. HARGREAVES. Some adventures, thrilling though they may be, follow stereotyped lines, while others develop in unusual directions, gaining added peril from their very unexpectedness. It is a collection of such out-of-the-way experiences that is here presented. Iv.—TWO STOWAWAYS. By Frank J. Dwyer. T was on August 17th, 1906, while waiting on the wharf at Cape Town for the launch to take me aboard the White Star liner Afedic—on which I was a passenger from Sydney, Australia, to London—that a thin, wild-eyed man offered me a branch of South African silver leaves for a penny—one-third of the price asked by the other venders. I purchased them, and he questioned me about the Australian colonies, afterwards relating the horrible experience that he had undergone while a stowaway on a wool ship some few months before. I have added nothing to the narrative. I may add that my wife heard part of the story, and on returning to the ship I told it to two fellow-passengers, who can confirm my statements. Unfortunately — having at the time no idea of writing the story for publication—I did not ascertain the man’s name or that of the ship concerned. There was a clanging of bells, a mingling ot loud orders that came from a dozen different sources, and the ship moved. ‘he screws revolved slowly, as if lazy after their six weeks’ idleness, and the black water of Woolloomooloo Bay was thumped into dirty foam. The stowaway, packed tight between the bales of Riverina wool, gave a sigh of relief. i “At last,” he muttered ; “another few hour: of that would have driven me insane.” The greasy wool made the air thick and heavy and the darkness appalled him, but, wedged in the narrow passage, he attempted a dance of joy. The suspense was over. ‘The screw churned merrily and the ship throbbed as if quivering with excitement. The man forgot the darkness and the stench from the wool and hides as he reviewed his position. ‘I'wo years of starvation and poverty had been his lot. ‘Two years of utter misery, with black days that he could not bear to look back upon, and away over there was ]London—calling, always calling. Out there beyond the harbour the lights of Piccadilly and the Strand beckoned him home, and the dull roar of the big city buzzed through his brain when memory covered up the horrors of yesterday and took him back. Now he was going home— going home! The screw seemed to chant the words as it whizzed round, and he flattened himself out against the bales to listen. How often had he thought of this moment when lying awake through long nights spent in dirty dosshouses, or shivering with cold in open parks ! Every few minutes he calculated the distance the ship had covered. Now they had passed the Gardens, now Darling Point and Rose Bay, and now—he laid his head on a bale and wept —the ship had passed through Sydney Heads, and he felt the Pacific take the big, wool-laden tramp to her bosom, and lift her up and down as if to weigh the amount of cargo she held between her paint-blistered sides. He shut his eyes as if to blot out his sur- roundings and, leaning back, told himself once more that every turn of the screw was carrying him nearer home, where friends and_ relations waited to receive him--the wanderer who had gone out to the rim of the world and had returned again. In nine weeks he would be there; nine weeks of suffering and privation they would be, but nothing to the two years of agony he had endured. He lay in a dream of bliss listening to the creaking and groaning of the big beams as they complained cf the swell, and then the rolling of the boat lulled him to sleep, and he slumbered deeply. When he awoke the darkness disturbed him for a moment, then he remembered where he was and hummed a verse of an old school ditty. He was at the end of a little passage-way that separated the bales of flax and wool, and he thought to stretch his legs by moving up and down the twelve-inch tracks. He slipped from the edge of the bale on which he sat; then he gave a wild yell and sprang back, for out of the darkness came a warning hiss. Hardly daring

Page 583

574 : THE WIDE WORLD to breathe, he waited, until presently a stray bar of light came down like a thread of steel from above and fell on the head of a snake curled up on a bale of flax directly in his path. The tiny glittering eyes looked at him menacingly for a second ; then the light faded away and the man flattened himself out against the bales in an agony of terror. A cold perspiration covered his face and arms. At first he sobbed in fear, but a warning hiss came from the watcher in front, and he forced himself to silence. He had no remem. brance of the re- mainder of that day. He stood stupefied, not daring to move an inch, till again out of the darkness came the thread of light—to fall once more on the head of the reptile. Like the man, it had not moved. The evil eyes met his, and when the head darted forward the stowaway shrieked again. Now he understood what caused the ray of light. A small hole high up in the covered hatch caught the rays of the sun at some time during the day, and the coming of the thread informed him that a whole day had passed since he made the discovery that there was another stowaway aboard. After the bar of light faded away the poor fellow’s eyes played strange tricks with him. There, right in front, like tworubies on acur- tain of velvet, were the eyes—and he moaned again. Reason told him that it was impossible to see them in the inky darkness ; yet when he shut his eyes and opened them once more the two little beads of blood were still in the same place, two lidless, vicious specks that watched his every movement. No: his sight was right ‘A STRAY BAR OF LIGHT CAME DOWN FROM ANOVE AND FELL ON THE HEAD OF A SNAKE, MAGAZINE. —they were real—they were eating into his brain, burning it up with their fierce brilliancy. He had always had a horror of snakes. When he tramped from Sydney to Bourke he remem- bered the restless nights he had passed when he pictured all sorts of reptiles crawling in the scrub alongside his camp. Then, however, he could get away, he could run; but here he was penned up with tier after tier of bales rising on either side and behind him, and that horrible thing right in his path. He foraged round and took a biscuit out of the bag and a few sups from the little cask of water he pos- sessed. The boat- swain’s mate, with whom he had arranged his surreptitious pass- age, had agreed to stow a certain amount of food and water at the other end of the hold, but how could he get anything now? He would starve to death un- less that horrible creature went away! Just then, dis- turbed by his move- ments, the snake hissed violently, and a horrible fear came into the man’s mind. The reptile would want water ! He had heard that snakes will travel a con- siderable distance in search of water, and if that was true the watcher would never go away while the little cask was there. It would in all proba- bility creep up and attack him in the dark- ness, thinking that he was keeping guard over it. But perhaps the reptile would go away if he let it drink. ‘Turning round with much difficulty the stowaway managed to push the water cask in front of him down the little path between the bales. ‘Then he turned the tap and allowed a portion of it to flow out on the floor.

Page 584

QUEER Day followed day, but he never slept. Some- times he dozed for a few minutes, but he always “started up with those awful eyes burning into his brain. Day after day the silver thread came down through the gloom, always resting on the same bale and lighting for an instant the head of his horrible jailer. So that he might know how many days had passed since the boat left Sydney, he took small lumps of flax from a bale on one side of the passage and passed one over each day to a wool bale opposite. He forgot the darkness and the stench, and, most wonderful of all, he did not feel hungry. ‘The one great horror in front of him paralyzed his mind, and his other troubles were small by com- parison with it. One day—it was the fourth of his imprison- ment—he thought he might escape by climbing up the straight face of the bales and passing high over the snake. He attempted it at last, but, nerve-shaken and feeble as he was, he slipped and fell, springing back to his old position with a shrick when the reptile hissed. Next day, when the light came down, he fancied that the serpent had uncurled itself, and he pictured the cold, scaly body that stretched away from the head containing those ever- watchful eyes. FIXES. 57 wn After he had counted ten balls of flax sume- thing went wrong with his brain. There seemed to be a thousand snakes in front of him, and each pair of eyes seemed to be twin balls of fire burning the life out of him. ‘They hedged him round, a semicircle of flame cutting off all hope of escape, and he put his head down on the bale of wool and wept weakly. The days became years, and he lost all count of time. ‘Then, one day, he heard someone hammering in the hold, and shrieked loudly. The reptile hissed to drown his voice, but he yelled louder still, and presently someone hailed him out of the darkness. After that he remembered no more. “Here, drop that howling, Morgan,” said the first mate to a complaining sailor. “The snake is a carpet one, and the bite is harmless. Pity that, poor wretch of a stowaway didn’t know that; he has snakes on the brain, and sees regiments of them.” ‘The sailor stopped his noise and looked on while the mate ran a tape-measure over the body of the dead carpet-snake, while from one of the cabins came the yells of the erstwhile stowaway, ing in delirium. ‘hey landed him at Cape ‘Town, where, when he had recovered, he told me his terrible story. V.-THE MYSTERY OF THE “PLACER.” By E. N. Wootrorp. THREE of us, veteran gold-diggers all, formed ourselves into what is known locally as a ‘“pork-knocking expedition,” and left Georgetown, British Guiana, for the North- West district by the old ss. Penwortham. After much rolling about we arrived at the little township of Morawhanna, and went on later in the day to Mount Everard, the start- ing point for the goldfields. Here we secured passages in a “ pork-knocking” boat, and in lieu of paying for our seats in hard cash bargained with the captain to assist him in pull- ing. Our journey up the Barima River was marked by no important event, and as we intended getting out at Jinapoo, a creek about three - quarters of a day’s paddling from Arakaka Landing, we tried our level best to put up with the hardships and suffering inci- dental to travelling on such a humble footing. Sitting day after day in an open boat, with a burning tropical sun overhead or in a downpour of rain lasting for many hours, was far from enjoyable ; however, after three days of this sort of life we arrived at our destination, tired out but happy, looking forward, with the gold- diggers’ characteristic optimism, to the pleasing prospect of bringing down to town a few pounds of gold between us for Christmas. Landing our small stock of provisions at the waterside we immediately started “ droghing ” them into the bush, and after a few hours’ walking reached our camp. ‘This was just a little clearing that one of our partners had made some months previously, after locating a few claims around. Much rank vegetation had over- run the “placer” during his absence in George- town, and it took us nearly four days to put the claim in order again. We noticed a few lizards and snakes about, and soon “ jizgers,” the inevitable pest of the poor British Guiana gold-digger, made their un- welcome presence felt. But these were as trifles by comparison with the trouble that soon over- took us. Having no extra hand to leave to watch the camp whilst we were working below, we were compelled to leave our stock of provisions, to a certain extent, to the tender mercies of anybody or anything that happened to pass our way. Quite gradually it dawned on us that our supplies, especially the rice and split peas, were growing beautifully less in a most mysterious manner,

Page 585

576 ‘THE Averaging what the three of us ate daily, we came to the conclusion that some thief was undoubtedly robbing us. We puzzled over the matter for days, and could arrive at no other conclusion than that “ pork - knockers,” or labourers from the adjacent “placers,” a few miles farther down the. creek, were raiding our camp on the sly. It was a most distress- ing position to be in, for our gold-hunting was none too successful, and our prospects did not look as pleasing as we could have desired. We had no money with which to replace the vanished goods, and therefore it can be under- stood that the question of our diminishing stock was a sore one with us. Matters were decidedly taking a critical turn, for once our supplies came to an end it meant the finish of our gold-hunting. It behoved us to make a move of some sort, and so in the morn- ings, before going to our claim, we nailed every bar- rel and box care- fully down. But still the losses went on ina mys- terious — fashion. We would find everything in order on return- ing to camp in the afternoon, just as we left it in the morning— our hammocks all tied up neatly, ourclothesfolded, and every barrel without a nail dis. placed ; and yet, strange to relate, the stock of food would be appreci- ably less! Apparently, there could be no doubt whatever that no human being was tampering with our provisions. “If so,” as one of our partners exclaimed wrathfully one day, ‘ where, in the name of common-sense, are our thir vanishing to?” . We carefully examined the ground around the camp in the hope of finding some clue or foot- gs TNERS EXCLAIMED WRATHFULLY, ‘WHERE, IN THE NAME OF CUMMON-SENSE, ARE OUK 1H WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. tracks to guide us in our futile search for the thief or thieves, but entirely without success. The matter began to get on our nerves; we * were so upset by the mystery of our continued losses that we felt very much inclined to believe in spirits and visitors from another world— though we had never heard of spirits with a liking for split peas. As I have already hinted, we were not getting any gold to speak of—just sufficient to cover our working expenses—and when, on the top of our financial troubles, came the daily loss of our provisions, it was more than flesh and blood could endure calmly. We became desperate and in no mood to stand any non- sense, and it would have fared badly with any unwelcome _ visi- tors at this junc- ture had we caught them. Under such cir- cumstances, we naturally tried to devise some plan by which we could get even with our unseen enemies, and, whilst we plotted and planned, our peas and rice were getting lower and lower in the barrels with startling rapidity, so that we were com- pelled to cut our- selves down to half-ration allow- ance. It was too bad, for we were working pretty hard, and wield- ing a pickaxe regularly is no : boy’s work, Bae PRC We then de- cided that whilst two men worked the claim one should remain and mount guard at the camp for a few days, This would have the effect of making our “takings” appreciably less ; but what could we do under the circum- stances? Either we must solve the mystery or starve, abandoning the “ placer” and trekking back to Georgetown empty-handed.

Page 586

QUEER FIXES. 577 “WE RUSHED THE CAMP WITH A SHOUT.” It fell to my lot to keep watch, and my experience the first day was a very tame and disappointing one indeed. After my chums had gone down to the pit I took up a comfortable position at the top of a caraballi tree, which allowed me a clear survey of everything below and around. Patiently I kept my lonely vigil, my eyes searching the surrounding bush and my ears on the alert to catch the least sound. But scarce a noise broke the stillness, and not a solitary animal came near the camp. So the day wore on, and not one single human being crossed our lines. But, for all that, when we came to examine the barrels in the afternoon the peas and rice had sunk below the chalk Vol. xviii.—73. mark we had put on in the morning! The mystery deepened. My perturbed companions’ sarcastic remarks made me furious. I decided to keep watch again the next day, but nearer to Mother Earth, for Casey, one of my partners, had remarked caustically that my lofty perch had perhaps pre- vented me from seeing things plainly. I for- gave him the sneer, however, for I understood and appreciated how he felt over these continual losses. The next day was a repetition of the previous one ; our food, in spite of my vigilance, vanished just as mysteriously and completely as if wafted away by the potent spell of some Eastern

Page 587

578 THE magician. We were again completely baffled in our endeavour to solve the mystery, and the knowledge of our failure did not make us one whit the more comfortable. A trifle super- stitious by nature, the idea soon began to be impressed on my partners’ minds, and gained ground momentarily, that the “placer” was bewitched. Someone then suggested the taking of our provisions down to the spot we were working at, and the building of a little denad there, where we could live in safety away from the beaten track and at the same time be able to keep a watchful eye on our things whilst working. For some reason or other, however, this idea, which I considered a very good one, was scouted as being impracticable. After partaking of our dinner one afternoon we held a solemn conclave over the matter, and on the initiative of Casey it was decided to set a trap with the aid of a gun. We surrounded the camp with fine twine, carefully blackened, and attached the ends to the trigger of the gun, which we hid away at the foot of a large mora tree near by. Our idea was that anyone crossing any of the tracks leading to the camp must of necessity touch the twine, when the gun would go off and we should catch the thief or thieves red-handed. We ate our breakfast at the “placer” that day amid a tense silence, for each felt that the gun might go off at any moment. Hour after hour went by, however, and nothing happened. It must have been about twelve o'clock, by the look of the sun overhead, when we heard a loud report in the distance, and simultaneously throwing away our tools we started at top-speed VI.—AN WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. for the camp ; Casey, stooping suddenly as he ran, picked up an old shovel-stick, while I snatched out my prospecting knife, so that we were to a certain extent armed. On nearing the camp we halted and held a whispered consultation. Then, very softly, we crept forward and rushed the camp with a shout. To our surprise and disappointment not one living soul did we see ; but the ground for hundreds of yards around our nepouset-covered hut was thickly strewn with accouchi ants! We could not get into the hut without crossing their “ droghing ”-linles and crushing hundreds of them. When we did succeed in getting in we discovered that these accouchi ants were the thieves who had been carrying away our peas and rice ! In long, unbroken lines they led to and from our Larrel of peas, from which they were indus- triously carrying off grain after grain ; and so the mystery was explained. We gave the little pests but short shrift. Rolling long pieces of nepouset paper together, we set alight to them and attacked the thieving battalions of ants. Round and round they went in abortive attempts to escape, still clinging to our peas. Some of them got up our trouser-legs and soon had us stamping about quite smartly, and altogether those accouchis kept us busy for over two hours before we routed them. Then, exhausted with the fight, I crept to my hammock, and the subsequent proceedings interested me no more. We never discovered what made the gun go off. Some animal, I suppose, must have caught its foot in the twine and so jerked the trigger. ICEBERG SHIP. By H. Harcreaves. In the early part of January, 1905, the Grimsby steam trawler A@sforfa, Captain Thomas Clifton, found herself off the coast of Iceland, making for a place called Dyrefiord. Her voyage from Grimsby had not, so far, been attended with any unusual occurrence. It is true she had experienced bad weather, but it had not been worse than might reasonably be expected at that time of year. The astorra arrived off Dyrefiord on the seventh—and then the unexpected happened. Without any warning, a fierce gale sprang up from the north-west and smote the little craft a severe blow. At the time several of the men were in the forecastle asleep or dozing, it being their watch below. Captain Thomas was on the bridge, and there were only three other men on deck. The wind blew with tremendous force, the cold was intense, and presently a blinding snow- storm came on. Thicker and _ thicker fell the flying flakes, until the men’s vision became completely obscured. Meanwhile the sea grew worse and worse. Great waves broke con- tinually over the vessel, doing much damage, while the howling wind threatened to drive her on to the lee-shore. Captain ‘Thomas therefore signalled to his engineers for full steam ahead, and steered boldly into the teeth of the gale. Although she pitched and laboured terribly, the little craft contrived to make slow headway against the shrieking wind and mountainous seas, and so at length freed herself of one peril. But lying in wait for the gallant crew was another danger, in a strange and terrible shape, and it is nothing to the discredit of the Kasforta’s crew to say that at one stage of their trying ex- periences they well-nigh gave themselves up for lost. On the bridge, as I have said, was Captain

Page 588

QUEER ‘Thomas, while two men were required to control the wheel in the heavy sea. ‘fhe fourth man, Seaman Cooper, did his best to carry out orders under very trying circumstances. As the trawler fought her way seawards the atmosphere became continually thicker with snow, which collected in great drifts at different parts of the vessel. The men on deck were half blinded by the snow and freezing spray ; and so intense was the cold—rendered worse by the mountainous seas that ever and again broke on board—that they were in peril of being rendered helpless from frost-bite. Presently a wave mightier than any of its fore- runners crashed down upon the labouring vessel with a thunderous roar. For a time it seemed that the trawler had disappeared, never to be seen again, for no trace of her was to be dis- cerned where the wave had broken—nothing but angry, boiling, tossing waters, with the sur- rounding gloom of an Arctic night. But soon the Kasforta emerged, trembling in every timber and plate, in a sorry plightindeed. Everything loose or detachable had been carried away, and Thomas and his companions had only saved themselves by clinging like grim death to the rails and the wheel. When the water subsided it was seen that one end of the bridge was smashed in and much other damage done ; but the most surprising and alarming thing that followed the advent of the wave was the sudden ONE END OF THE BRIDGE WAS SMASHED IN," FIXES. 579 accumulation of ice on every part of the vessel. Longer and stouter grew the icicles on masts and rigging, and soon all the exposed parts of the little trawler disappeared beneath a thick coating of ice. It gathered upon the bridge, forming into a compact mass at the end, where steps descended to the deck, and presently Thomas, looking at the spirit compass in the binnacle, discovered to his consternation that it, too, was frozen, so that he was quite unable to steer his course. And so they steamed on through the storm, without knowing their direction. The bridge was within shouting distance of the companion-way leading to the forecastle, and presently Thomas bawled a summons to those below to come to the aid of their. comrades at this crisis of their fate. In response there came back the faint sound of a voice :— “We can’t get out!” Only these few words reached the ears of the four men on deck; the remainder of the message was drowned in the roaring of the storm. But sufficient had been said to reveal to them the nature of their messmates’ predicament. ‘The door of the forecastle was frozen shut, blocked up with masses of ice and snow, render- ing egress an impossibility!) The men below were rendered captive by the elements, and were quite unable to come to the aid of their sorely-tried fellows, who, in turn, found them- selves too busily occupied in attending to the labour- ing ship and avoiding being washed overboard by the raging seas to take any effective steps towards rescue. So it befell that the men in the forecastle were doomed to remain in a condition of inactive suspense, listening anxiously to the destruc- tion going on above, while their experience told them that at any moment the trawler might go to the bottom, drowning them like rats in a trap. Those above were also painfully aware of this possibility,, but under the circum- stances were well-nigh helpless to avert such a catastrophe. Just then, as though . to emphasize their sorry plight, another huge wave broke over the vessel,

Page 589

580 THE WIDE sweeping the decks and smashing one of the boats. ‘Thomas groaned aloud. “Good heavens, we shall never weather it !” he exclaimed. But brave men never give up hope while there is life, and the men of the Aas/oria continued to maintain the unequal battle. Meanwhile the storm abated not one jot, and the load of ice on deck and spars continued to increase, so that moment by moment the barrier between those below and those on deck grew more impassable. There was nothing of a pliable nature on deck. Already everything was frozen stiff—even the men’s oilskins. And now occurred one of the greatest perils of this most perilous voyage. A big sea broke across the stern of the vessel, snapping the mizzen boom like a carrot and carry- ing the broken end overboard, where it rained fearful blows upon the trawler’s hull, momentarily threatening to smash her plates or become en- tangled with the madly - thrashing propeller. “Cutheradrift!” shrieked Thomas, and the only avail- able man _ slipped and stumbled aft over the ice- coated deck, followed by the “rH captain himself. It is, however, one thing to give an - order under such circumstances, and quite another to carry it out. What were they to release the boom with, seeing that nearly everything movable had been carried away ? By great good luck, however, they espied a hatchet, which had been washed against the bulwarks. Hastily snatching this up, the seaman hacked away at the tackles of the boom, until at last it was free and vanished into the smother of foam astern. WORLD KAMAN HACKED AWAY AT MAGAZINE. This danger averted, the men breathed again. But what a sorry plight was theirs! By this time the whole vessel was a mass of gleaming white—a veritable floating iceberg. ‘The shrouds and ratlines were sheets of ice, the masts were huge pillars of ice, and the rigging was so swollen with caked masses that a man could not envelop it with his arms. ‘There was ice every- where, burdening the little vessel with a weight it seemed impossible that she could carry. The only means of getting on to and eff the bridge was by crawling through a small aperture in the gleaming berg at the end. How long would it be before this aper- ture should be en- tirely closed, and so practically im- prison those upon the bridge ? Night closed in, and it seemed that nothing worse could befall the hapless little craft now than absolute annihilation. But still the toll of their troubles was not yet complete. The two men at the wheel had all along had the greatest possible difficulty in keep- ing their positions, so heavy was the strain upon the steering gear. Sometimes the united strength of both men was scarcely sufficient to control the wheel when a heavy sea struck the rudder, and as their strength became reduced in consequence of the continued exposure, so the poor fellows were less able to deal with their task. An accident seemed inevitable, and ere long it occurred. The wheel was being held hard-a-starboard, when the sea suddenly forced the rudder back, with the result that the wheel whirled round with lightning speed, carrying one of the men, who pluckily maintained his grip, over with it, and dashing him violently to the deck. His companion endeavoured to stay his progress, THE TACKLES OF THE boom.”

Page 590

QUEER but was helpless against the might of the sea, and the man was so injured that he was rendered useless for any further service for the time being. The number of men available to navigate the vessel was thus reduced to three. Aimlessly the Astoria drove through the mighty seas during the leaden hours of the night ; her burden of ice growing momentarily greater as the sheets of spray froze upon her. She rolled heavily in the trough of the waters, FIXES. 581 And so that never-to-be-forgotten night’ passed slowly away. Next day the storm abated just as suddenly as it had arisen. The wind dropped, the snow ceased, and the barometer went up with a jump. By rapid degrees the vessel was released from the grip of the ice, and as the sea went down the men on deck were able to release their com- rades by chopping away with axes the layers of ice from the forecastle door. It was a memor- TSH ROLERD HEAVILY IN and ever and anon listed to starboard to an alarming extent, often dipping her Ice rails below the surf. It was at such moments that those on board her felt the chill of death upon them. Upon one occasion she retained her list for such a length of time, through the weight of ice upon her upper works, that the occupants of the bridge thought she would never right herself again. At last, however, she gradually and laboriously lifted, to the infinite relief of ‘Thomas and his companions. The three men were now practically reduced to helplessness: they could do nothing with the vessel, nor for their imprisoned comrades. All of them suffered intensely from the cold, Captain Thomas's fingers being frost-bitten. VIE TROUGH OF THE WATERS." able reunion, The first: intimation the men below had received that anything was wrong-— sailors can sleep through a great deal of hubbub —-was the crash of the huge sea which smashed in one end of the bridge. It was then, when they strove to get upon deck, that they dis- covered they were prisoners, and surmised the cause. When the compass was got into working order again it was found that during her fight with the storm the vessel had run eighty-four miles to the north-west. Captain Thomas then «turned about and steamed back for |yrefiord, where he put in for much-needed repairs. He then set out for Grimsby, where the Aas/oria arrived alter a voyage of five weeks’ duration.

Page 591

Life on a Dahabeeyah. By Miss M. A. Macgregor. A novel feature—an article in pictures. Miss Mac- gregor's interesting snap- shots, with their narrative titles, give one a far more vivid idea -of the delights of holiday-making on a Nile dahabeeyah than pages of description, (1.) We didn’t want to rush up the Nile just for the sake of saying we had done it, nor yzt to lose all our identity under a tourist agent's flag; so we hired a dahabeeyah without the help of anybody but (2.) our beautiful dr Clothed in dazzling white, he put on as a garment all the mystery and charm of the East. But do not ask to see him in his absurd white knickerbockers English shooting-boots—he was bandy- (3) The rest of our following—a crew too numerous to get into one plate—were picturesque rascals, the least handy of sailors, but egile and cheerful

Page 592

LIFE ON (4.) and with Mursi, son of the Reiyis, of skipper. standing at the tiller in an attitude he knew was graceful (he was shockingly vain, but so picturesque that we forgave him). we started gaily off A DAHABEEY AH. 583 (5.) up the ‘iver. Who can describe the charm of that life of glorious sun and indolent content? It was surely monotonous, but we never tired of watching the butterfly-like boats, (6) or the light-hearted brown people, who made themselves into friezes along the top of the banks whenever we tied up ; > cat Digitized by \ ,00gle

Page 593

584 (8.) Bur some of the party didn’t like it quite so much when the folk ashore evinced an equal interest in ourselves, and formed themselves into a voluntary escort. most Iterally pressing in their attentions | When we got aboard after a con stitutional, they sat down and watched us stolidly ull we set sail, (9.) or if there was no wind. u dahabeeyah along by a vew lo compared with a sail before a suff breeze — THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ope— (7.) Sometimes we con- templated our own crew at their various occupa- tions, such as Hassan Ali doing the family washing in a sort of tin bath. It was all very interesting and peaceful, and we thoroughly enjoyed it. il we sent ten of the erew ashore to haul the tracking” it is called, and it is very dull

Page 594

LIFE ON A DAHABEEYAH. 585 {10,.) which however. one day came to a sudden end where the river bends sharply Then “tracking” with the wind abeam was too hard for the crew and Suleiman got fifteen countrymen to help, but the crowd soon swelled to fifty who all demanded payment. and an indescribable row ensued. But. of course. the wily Suleiman got the best of it eventually. (12.) Well, we came. we saw we laughed and talke go. So we turned northward, and the crew rowed us their queer chants meanwhile Vol. xviii.—74. Pon os Ns pe ona (11) Always, over all the idle happy life hes the unspeakable charm of a remote and mysterious past We saw temples. tombs innumerable and all the things one reads about in books. but perhaps the most pathetic of all were the statues of Amenophis Ill the Coloss: of Thebes. The “Vocal Memnon™ (on the right) used, centuries ago, to sing at dawn. but he 1s silent now—or 1s it that there 1s none to hear? d, until at last the day came when we. too, had to down the river with immensely long oars, chanting

Page 595

586 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. (13,) But the river was getting low, and some- times we drifted on to a sandbank and. stuck fast. Then there would be much excitement, bad language, and a great deal of running about on the part of the crew. If we couldn't shove off with long poles S (668 ON — 40 QO = Q “\ | (14.) we got a boatload of grinning natives from the banks to help. They jumped into the shallow water and shoved mightily with their backs, and with much shouting and manful exertion persuaded our reluctant craft to move. Shade of Mrs. Grundy! I forget to mention that they took off all their clothes first | 17 Alt ee vt Pe good-bye to the Nile and our dahabeeyah!

Page 596

By Row.anp W. Cater. How a Central American rancher gave a “house-warming”’ to a party of friends; how the feativities were interrupted by some audacious cattle-thefts; and how the guests, while pursuing the robber, made a dramatic discovery. ICTOR LORINI was an Italian, a particular friend of mine, who owned a large and prosperous cattle ranch in the wilds of Central ~ America ; and although one or two of his neighbours were jealous of his success, they agreed with the balance of his acquaint- ances that he was a gentleman down to the ground. He had just completed a new and very fine house upon his property, and I had journeyed thither to help at the “warming,” turning up, at his request, one day ahead of the other guests. “How many fellows do you expect?” I queried of my host between the pulls at my pi pe. “‘Oh, there'll be seven or eight altogether,” he replied; “and I’ve asked them down for the week. Let me see. There’s Bob Cudleigh, from the Fort ; young Tucker—you know him, oo ; then there’s Lank Rapton and his partner, from Las Bocas.” “‘That’s good,” I ventured. Is Vogler coming ?” “On; Carl Vogler? Rather! What gathering would be complete without Carl? Why, he’s immensely popular—everybody’s favourite, in fact , and a downright nice fellow too. I think he’ll get on in this country, for, although he’s not been here a couple of years yet, he’s got three or four acres of bananas, as pretty a grove of cocos as you could wish to see, a new bungalow, a patch of cane, and a mule worth three hundred pesos if it is worth a penny. Cattle is what he is aiming at chiefly, though,” continued Lorini. ‘TI sell him an occasional heifer, and he’s very successful at breeding. I should reckon he can round up sixty head at least ; and that’s not bad for a start.” Thus we talked and discussed our various acquaintances until bedtime, the next day being spent almost entirely in meeting and greeting fresh arrivals—the “ boys” to whom Lorini had referred as due to assist at the “ house-wa' ming.” The “fuel,” especially the liquid portion of it, was good and abundant, even to the extent of “And who else? champagne, which, being a decided luxury in the bush, was freely indulged in; and from one o’clock in the morning, when we finally turned in, we slept like tops until nine, when Lorini came round to arouse us. “Café is ready, you fellows,” he said, and that was sufficient to bring us up with a rush. Then, over our coffee, Lorini casually informed us that someone had stolen a calf during the night. “ At least, I imagine it to have been stolen,” he said, “for it was scarcely a yearling, so I hardly think it could get through or over the fencing round the corral.” “ Perhaps a jaguar had it,” I suggested. “Do you get those gentlemen as near to the coast as this ?” “Now and then,” he answered. ‘“‘ But this is no jaguar’s work,” he added. “ Directly we discovered the loss I sent out my men to scour the ranch, thinking that possibly the brute had got out and wandered into the bush, or, maybe, fallen into the creek which runs along the north side there. They didn’t find the calf, but they found its spoor, and the prints of horse-hoofs alongside, all the way to the boundary.” This announcement served to whet our appetites for adventure, and we straightway held a council of war, at which it was resolved that we should sit up all night and watch for the thief. “T'd just like to get a lasso over his head,” said Vogler, who was an expert with a “coil.” “Yd play him as a Scotsman does a salmon.” And not only Vogler, but all of us were eager to be on the cattle-thief’s track. Accordingly, about eleven o’clock that night, we adjourned on foot to the corral to take up our positions. Lorini and one of the guests clinbed to the top of the dairy-house, whence, lying flat upon the palm-thatched roof, they com- manded a splendid view; and Vogler went off with another fellow to creep beneath a tarpaulin which had been carelessly thrown over an ox- wagon standing in a corner of the corral. My companion and I found fairly comfortable seats

Page 597

588 THE WIDE WORI.D MAGAZINE. upon the boughs of an ancient orange tree near the entrance. Midnight came and went, then one, two, and three o’clock ; but the thief did not put in an appearance. Finally, at a signal from Lorini, we crept from our hiding with the first streaks of dawn—a cold, hungry, cramped, and dis- appointed crowd. We got through the day pleasantly enouyh, however, and night came round ayain to find us grouped upon the balcony and doing a great deal of yawning. “Say, fellows,” said the rancher, as though suddenly inspired, “1 fancy the thief will give us a rest to-night, so I don’t think we need sit up. What do you say?” ‘To this proposition we unanimously agreed. ‘Thus, after an impromptu smoking-concert, and stil: humming the last air that Vogler had coaxed from Lorini’s rather dilapidated accordion, we sought our beds and slept soundly. “Heard the news?” queried my orange-tree companion next morning. “ There’s another calf gone!” And so it had—calf number two had disappeared as mysteriously as its fellow during the night. At once we fell to discussing plans for the forthcoming night, and our host suggested that if we had really made up our minds to mar our stay by further efforts to trap the delinquent our best plan was to divide into two relays—watch- ing and resting in turns. ‘This proposal, how- ever, was promptly declined by Vogler, our usual mouthpiece. “No fear,” he laughed. “Why, the party which chanced to be resting when the thicf turned up would lose all the fun.” And since none of us desired to miss the excitement the idea was forthwith banished. Thus we continued, watching one night and resting the next, always keeping the horses saddled and ready for a chase. Moreover, the thief came and a calf went regularly each night we slept, while he kept religiously out of the way when we were on the watch. So marked, indeed, was this rule that we hinted to the rancher that the culprit might be someone connected with his household. The seventh night was an “off duty” night, and we all turned in rather early.’ But sleep I could not. Instead, I tossed restlessly from side to side, and midnight came to find me still wide awake. At last, believing that my wake- fulness was due to a mild attack of malarial fever, and remembering that Lorini always kept a bottle of sulphate of quinine upon a shelf in the corridor, I shuffled into my slippers and stepped out upon the balcony in search of that remedy. As I reached the balcony I imagined I heard the distant clatter of hoofs; and on stepping close up to the railings and gazing in the direc- tion of the corral, it seemed to me that someone was just entering. I strained my eyes to their utmost, yet could not be positive of this, for the corral was no little distance away, and although the moon was up it was not over-bright How- ever, the circumstance was suspicious, to say the least of it, and Lorini, whom I forthwith sought out, considered my news of sufficient importance to warrant our arousing our com- panions. This we did; and in much less time than it takes to relaie we had grabbed our six- shooters, rushed round to the stables, mounted, and set off towards the corral. “Where's Vogler?” asked someone behind me as we galloped along. ‘He'll be sorry to miss the fun.” “Oh, we can’t bother about him now,” answered a second voice. “It’s his own fault for sleeping so heavily.” When we were within fifty yards of the corral, Lorini dispatched two of the boys across the fields to take up a position just where the meadows terminated and the forest land com- menced, with the object of heading off the thief should he attempt to escape by the track connecting with the high road—the only exit. I might almost compare the ranch to an irregularly-shaped wheel with three spokes only —the wide belt of thick forest land correspond- ing to the rim and the house to the hub, while the spokes would represent three paths or tracks leading from the house across the fields to the boundary. One of these tracks, as 1 have said, connected with the high road or “camino real,” and provided we could effectually close this we stood an excellent chance of running the miscreant down, for the second track brought up at a barbed-wire fence, and thus led nowhere, so to speak, while the third terminated on the bank of a “creek,” as it was called locally, but which was in reality quite a respectable river. “There he soes !” we yelled in chorus, as a figure, mounted evidently on a splendid animal, darted out of the corral and made off across the fields, leading another stolen heifer by a rope. With an excited whoop we tore after him. He soon dropped the rope by which he held the captured calf, and, as we had anticipated, made for the track leading to the high road. But our companions had succeeded in getting there first. “No, you don’t!” was the savage challenge which met him, while a couple of shots fired over his head intimated that our outposts were in earnest. Thus baffled, the scoundrel wheeled about and for a short distance galloped in the direction of the house again.

Page 598

CORNERING A CATTLE - THIEF, 589 “WE SET OFF TOWARDS THE CORRAL.” “Blest if ’e ain’t goin’ back fer ther calf!” ejaculated a Yankee member of our party; but he had scarcely uttered the words when the fugitive turned off at a sharp angle and headed for the track leading to the creek. More- over, this manceuvre came so suddenly that by the time we had pulled up and likewise changed our course he was another fifteen or twenty yards to the good. Our mounts, how- ever, as though awakening to the fact that this was no ordinary run, but an important test of speed, entered thoroughly into the spirit of the chase. The trees dotted about the meadows seemed literally to fly past us as we dashed . onwards, and presently, yard by yard, we began to gain on the thief. It was not long before he reached the forest zone and disappeared down the track, being completely lost to our view. Nevertheless, we realized that he would be compelled to keep to the track, for the undergrowth was far too dense to admit of his riding into it; and, on the other hand, we were now so close upon him that he would scarcely have time to dismount and dart into the bush on foot. “At him, boys! Don’t let him give us the slip now,” shrieked the rancher, and with another shout we sped onwards. It was an awkward chase owing to the narrowness of the way, and we bumped into each other so con- tinually that our panting horses began to lose their tempers. The huge trees, too, shut out the moonlight, and the consequent darkness added to the difficulty. “I wonder what his game is?” ventured our host, when we had covered the first half-mile through the. bush. ‘Surely he won’t attempt to cross the stream in its present swollen condition ?” No one could answer the question, so we raced onwards in silence, and finally reached the creek. Like lightning we dismounted and rushed to the water’s edge—but just too late. Barely in time to avoid the half-score of hands thrust out to grab him, the robber gave a hideous, defiant laugh and plunged into the tide, evidently intending either to swim to the other side or allow the current to carry him a short distance down-stream, afterwards climbing the bank and hiding in the brushwood until we should give up the chase. He struck the water scarcely four feet from

Page 599

590 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ““THE FUGITIVE TORNED OFF AT A SHARP ANGLE.” the bank, jumping in instead of diving, since he was not sure of the depth. Immediately after- wards a dreadful, pitiful scream rang in our ears. The creek literally teemed with alligators, and one of these monsters had seized the thief before he had time to take even his first stroke. So quickly, indeed, did the reptile grab him that one might be pardoned for imagining that it had expected him. In spite of his struggles the poor fellow was being swiftly dragged under almost before we realized his predicament. Just as rapidly as this had happened did all desire for vengeance leave us, and we thereupon concerned our- selves only with the miscreant’s rescue. “Take my hand — quick !” snapped Lorini, and in an in- stant, perceiving his intention, we had joined hands in a living chain, each taking a firm footing and pre- paring for a tug- of-war. — Lorini was only just in time to grasp one of the thief’s outstretched arms, and then, as the tug-of-war commenced, we all gave vent to a hearty bush- cry, such as would have shamed even a veteran from the wilds of Aus- tralia. The noise evidently scared the saurian, causing it to re- lease its victim, and with the resistance thus suddenly re- moved, as gene- rally happens in such cases, we all fell back- wards upon the ground, happily dragging the unfortunate thief ashore as we did so. As we crowded round to see our prize some- — one struck a match, with a view to examining the poor fellow’s wounds, and incidentally to satisfy our curiosity as to his identity. Then— well, then came such a surprise as none of us are likely ever to forget. “ Vogler—by all that’s sacred!” we exclaimed in chorus, and so it was. The thief was none other than the popular Carl Vogler, our erst- while friend and fellow-rancher ! There is little left to tell. We took the miscreant back to thé house ahd Lorini nursed

Page 600

CORNERING A CATILE- THIEF. “THE NOISE EVIDENTLY SCARED him through a long and critical illness, at the end of which Vogler confessed all. He had watched with us one night, and the next, while we were asleep, had crept from his bed, stolen a calf, handed it to a confederate waiting by arrangement at the boundary, and then had returned to his room. He admitted that he had given other ranchers in the neighbourhood a turn as well—in fact, he stole many more calves than he bred or bought, being careful always to take young and “unbranded” beasts which could not be traced to him. That was how he had “got on” so well in the short time he had been in the country. Of course, so far as we were concerned, he was “sent to Coventry,” as the schoolboy has it, ever afterwards, although at Lorini’s special request we kept the reason a profound secret ; and thereafter cattle-lifting, in that neighbour- hood at least, troubled, us noymore.

Page 601

XY Among Brigands and Wild Sheep in Mongolia. By Owen Owen. An absorbing account of a hazardous hunting trip. penetrated into the interior of Mongolia in search of wild sheep. Mr. Bradley, an American big-game hunter, The sport was exciting enough, but it was quite eclipsed by the numerous battles with the fierce outlaws of the mountains. The article is illustrated with Mr. Bradley's own photographs. ]O far as is known, no other white man j save Mr. John Roger Bradley has | garian district of Mongolia to tell the story of his experiences. He got safely out of this country in September of last year, after an expedition lasting through May, June, July, and August, replete with daring adventure and narrow escapes from death at the hands of the roving tribes of bandits who infest the Great Altai mountains. Mr. Bradley is one of those restless Americans who periodically expend their pent-up energy in shooting big game and exploring little-known parts of the earth. It was the Mongolian Ovis ammon, a rare wild sheep found only in the mountains of Dzungaria, that attracted Mr. Bradley to that out-of-the-way country. His faithful Persian in- terpreter, who stood by ees Mr. Bradley’s side during many a thrilling battle with bandits, is the authority for the following account of the expedition: The interpreter knew a smat- tering of the language of the Kalmuks, the pigtailed tribes inhabiting = Dzun- garia, and how this know- ledge stood the invaders in good stead more than once will be seen presently. With half-a-dozen Mannlicher _ rifles, two thousand rounds of ammu- nition, and a complete camping equipment, Mr. Bradley and the Persian left London for St. Peters- burg in the middle of April, before starting on the first lap of their journey by way of the Trans- Siberian Railway. Here obstacles were put in the From a) way of the expedition before it had fairly started. The Russian officials to whom the hunter applied for passports did all in their power to dissuade him from his project, giving warning of the ‘certain death” he would meet at the hands of the Dzungarian bandits. They reminded him of the number of men who had gone into the country never to return ; who had disappeared in the mountains of Dzungaria only to form the basis for more stories of murder and plunder, as repeated by the natives to their Mongolian kinsmen of China’s tea-carrying trade. Nothing daunted, however, Mr. Bradley boarded the Trans-Siberian express in the latter part of April, after receiving all the courtesies the Russian Government could extend. At Tomsk, in Siberia, he left the railway and, with his interpreter, descended the MR, J. R. KKADLEY, WHOSE ADVENTUROUS SVORTING, TRIY IN AB (ETERIOR OF MONGOLIA Is HERECDESERIBED, (Photo,

Page 602

AMONG BRIGANDS AND WILD SHEEP IN MONGOLIA. 593 River Obi by boat to Beilsk, where he dis- embarked. Here he purchased several light Russian carts and thirty-two horses, which were later to bring the expedition very near disaster at the hands of covetous outlaws. Twenty peasants were also engaged as an escort ; and then began the journey of one thousand four hundred versts across the great steppes of Siberia to the Mongolian frontier. The latter point was reached in twenty-five days. Here the vehicles were abandoned and inost of the peasants were sent back, their places being taken by partly-civilized Kalmuks. Then the expedition plunged boldly into the unknown. Scarcely Excitement began soon enough. From a) had the third day’s journey over the frontier been completed than Mr. Bradley learned that the warnings of the Russians had not been without foundation. Intent on stealing horses and provisions, the desperadoes of the moun- tains struck the invaders’ trail and harassed them without ceasing for a week ; but *Mr. Bradley’s pickets frustrated all their attempts to steal up to thé expedition at night. On the seventh day after their appearance the bandits, now twenty strong, grew bolder; they rode within shooting distance in broad daylight and opened fire. They soon had cause to regret this action. Such a fusillade of lead was poured into their ranks that they abandoned the attack and retreated in disorder. Whether any of their number had been seriously wounded could not Vol, xviii, —75. ONE OF MR. BRADLEY'S CAMIS JUST BEFORE REACHING THE MONGOLIAN FRONTIER, be learned, but that the lesson they had received had not been severe enough was known two days later, when they returned in increased numbers, surprising the expedition just as it was going into camp at dusk in a mountain pass. ‘Ihey announced their arrival by the crack of their muskets, firing from behind boulders up the mountain-side, A full-fledged battle was soon in progress. At first Mr. Bradley’s Kalmuks were on the point of stampeding with the horses, but their leader rallied them by seizing his Mannlicher and advancing to meet the outlaws, the Persian interpreter backing him up by following suit. ‘The Kalmuks, taking couraye from this example, (Photo. grabbed the weapons with which they had been provided, and joined in the fighting. For a time the chances of escape seemed remote. The members of the expedition were compelled to retreat around a sharp turn in the pass, as the bandits, from their cover behind ‘boulders, kept up a hot fire, wounding horses and providing close calls to death for the men. Presently darkness came on, giving Mr. Bradley’s party an advantage. From their recess in the mountain pass they could see by the light of the abandoned camp- fire— burning brightly in the pass between them and the bandits—the only approach to their position from the road below. As the desperadoes came skulking forward they were given a warm recep- tion, but the elusive shadows from the fire rendered the marksmanship somewhat ineffec-

Page 603

594 THE WIDE tive. After a time one outlaw showed himself fully in the glare of the camp-fire, and was promptly picked off. He jumped into the air and fe'l with a scream of pain, rolling out into the darkness. Another tried to cross the pass, but he also was driven back wounded. Next the bandits attempted the feat all together, shoot- ing in the direction of the expedition’s ambuscade of darkness as they ran forward. But Mr. Bradley and his men were better prepared than before for the onslaught. Looking down from their position they could detect the shadowy outlines of the enemy passing the flickering fire, and they could also see one of the desperadoes crawling within a few feet of the blaze, carrying a water-bag wherewith to extinguish it. This discovery was WORLD MAGAZINE. manded by an officer. They had been sent as an escort by the Governor at Kobdo, this official having in some manner got wind of the battle with the bandits. At Kobdo Mr. Bradley was given a hospit- able reception by the authorities, who marvelled greatly at his feat in getting through the mountains alive. When he expressed his inten- tion of pushing on into the Great Altai moun- tains, however, in the remotest district of the province of Dzungaria, the startled officials told him that any attempt to carry out such a resolu- tion would be nothing short of madness. Nevertheless, the hunter was still anxious to reach the haunts of the Oz’s ammon, and unwill- ing to abandon his trip after getting so near From a\ simultaneous with the report of half-a-dozen tifles and the patter of as many bullets on the rocky pass about the fire. When the smoke cleared away not a bandit could be seen, all of them having beaten a hasty retreat down the mountain-side. At daybreak the next morning a trail of blood leading down the valley showed that at least one of the enemy had been badly wounded. The worst feature of the battle for the expedition was the wounding and scattering of horses. Mr. Bradley’s escape seemed little short of marvellous to the native escort. ‘They decided that he had a charmed life and was invulnerable to the musket-bullets of the enemy. As the expedition neared Kobdo, the capital of Mongolia, it was met by three soldiers, com- THE EXPEDITION ON THE MARCH. | Photo. his goal. Accordingly, with a fresh supply of horses he again set out for the interior of Dzun- garia, heading for the heart of the Great Altai mountains. Before he started he accepted an offer of an escort of six soldiers from the Governor at Kobdo. ‘That their presence did not awe the bandits will be seen by the follow- ing exciting chapter, which was added to the story of the expedition before the big-game country was reached. As men and horses were travelling in single file through a valley a few days after leaving Kobdo, they were approached one afternoon by a solitary Kalmuk. ‘He told bis kinsmen of the expedition he had come as an emissary from the leader of the outlaws to offer their white chief the alternative of surrendering half of his

Page 604

AMONG BRIGANDS AND WILD SHEEP IN r- — — ss amg iz ‘From a) horses, guns, and provisions, or certain death. When this impudent message was translated to _ the “white chief,” he sent back word that he would keep his equipment for himself and let death be the reward of the bandit chief for his insolence. This answer had the effect of a declaration of MONGOLIA. 595 ~ war. lurther- ‘more, this was to begin sooner than was ex- pected. Mr. Bradley prudently began to prepare for action before the messenger dis- appeared, and sent out two spies to follow in the direction the Kalmuk had travelled. Then he began to drill his men in the more skilful use of firearms. Before day- break the next morning the spies returned and re- ported that the bandits were in camp in a valley some half-a-dozen miles away. All of them were’ big men, armed with muskets. On receiving this information Mr. Bradley quickly decided on a plan of action. Selecting a dozen of his best marksmen, he gave each a liberal supply of ammunition, and started at From a) A SCENE IN THE DESOLATE ALTAL MOUNTAINS, (Photo,

Page 605

596 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. MR. BRADLEY AMUSING HIMSELF WITH ONE OF THE ANTIQUATED MUZZLE-LOADING GUNS CARRIED BY HIS KALMUKS. Frou a Photo. once for the enemy’s rendezvous, instructing the remainder of his men to follow at a short distance The two spies led the way, but the perils of the trip over the mountains in the blackness of the night were many, for the danger of being attacked by lurking bandit outposts made ‘it madvisable to carry any but the smallest light, which was carefully muffled. Several times during that eerie march the men walked on the very edge of yawning precipices, where one misstep would have meant instant death on the rocks hundreds of feet below. Providence seemed to guide their footsteps, however, and after about three hours’ march their reward was forthcoming. Rounding a sharp curve of a rocky ledge descending to the valley, the desperadoes’ camp- fire came into full view, not a hundred yards below. The party stopped abruptly and listened. ARTS, 2 af ee From a) TWO OF THE HUNTERS SEARCHING THE SLOPES FOR SIGNS OF BANDITS, (Photo.

Page 606

AMONG BRIGANDS AND WILD SHEEP IN MONGOLIA. 597 MR. BRADLEY AND SOME OF HIS MEN RESTING ON ONE OF THE H Not a sound save the rush of a mountain stream could be heard. ‘Iwo men were sent forward to investigate. Cautiously they crept to within a hundred fect of the smouldering embers of the camp-fire and counted twenty-five silent figures wrapped in skin blankets lying about. ‘Their muskets were stacked in a pile in the centre. The entire camp was fast asleep. When the scouts had reported, Mr. Bradley withdrew and held a whispered consultation with his men through his interpreter, making them understand that the camp was to be sur- rounded. After this he would fire a shot to awaken the bandits, and a selected Kal- muk of the party would then give notice to. their foes that their lives would be spared on their agreeing to molest the ex pedition no further, The first part of the plan worked — admir ably. ‘The thir- teen men suc- cecded in creep- ing to within a MEST PEAKS OF TUK AIS, from a\ TEN THOUSAND FEET ABOVE THE FOREST-LINE. (7 5 wens few yards of the slumber- ing camp without detec- tion. As Mr. Bradley's rifle spoke the awakened bandits found themselves staring sleepily into the of six Mann- four revolvers, hree muskets. All of them but their chief, a giant in stature, seemed completely cowed, but he sprang with the agility of a cat toward the pile of muskets near the fire, only to be rewarded with a bullet from the rifle of the Persian, which grazed _ his face and took off the lobe of his ear, bringing him to the ground with a scream of pain. This shot also had a salutary effect on the rest of the desperadoes, and after the Kalmuk spokesman had outlined the con- ditions of surrender the bandits expressed their gratitude and acceptance by kissing the earth and repeatedly yelling, “ Yes, yes !” Mr. Bradley himself stood over the stack of muskets, the Persian by his side, and the remaining eleven men covered the enemy with their guns. ‘The outlaws were next ordered to march down the valley, and sullenly obeyed. No sooner had they reached a distance of three hundred yards from the fire than the report of two muskets, coming from the rear, startled the aT Apne? \ rt a = X-on NTA OF THE PARTY. From a Photo.

Page 607

5908 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. hunters. the heads of Mr. Bradley’s men. unable to locate the source of the mysterious attack, ran to cover, leaving the stack of muskets unguarded. Presently they saw through the dawn, which was now breaking, that the surprise came from two bandits, safely protected by a ledge of rock, who had evidently been reconnoitring in the vicinity and were returning to camp when they saw their comrades captured. Other shots followed, whizzing about Se eee es ; Fo 2 Sg 2 oss ne na A FEW OF MR. BRADLEY From a) VROPHIES—THE * The latter, INCHES IN THE SWEF?: [Pheote. At this critical moment the remainder of Mr. Bradley’s escort came up with the horses and camp equipment. A concerted effort to regain possession of the muskets was made, but failed, a ceaseless fire from the two bandits in their impregnable position auguring certain death to any who attempted to approach the deserted camp. At length, therefore, they were left alone, and two hours later Mr. Bradley, having accomplished his object of frightening away the main body of the bandits, withdrew his men. HORNS IN THE CENTKE MEASURED SIXTY-THRER [Phote.

Page 608

AMONG From that time forward a sharp look-out was kept, but the outlaws were never again sighted during the trip. Having got rid of the bandits, the ascent to the higher reaches of the Great Altais was now begun in earnest. At a point about ten thousand feet above the forest-line the first herd of Ours ammon was sighted. Mr. Bradley dis- covered that one of the remarkable charac- teristics of this rare species of game is its wonderful sense of smell. He could never get within the twelve hundred yards’ range of his tiles, when the wind was blowing toward the game, before they took fright and scampered away. The exact colour of the surrounding rock, the Ovis ammon was found to be most From a) difficult to pick out, a strong glass being necessary for the purpose. Despite the heavy snows and the wind, Mr. Bradley succeeded in bagging twenty-five Ovvs ammon, ten ibex, and four antelopes before starting on his return trip in August. The horns of the largest Ozvs ammon killed measured twenty-one inches in the burr, or largest circum- ference, and sixty-three inches in the sweep. The horns heads, and skins of several of the BRIGANDS AND WILD SHEEP IN THREE OF THE KALMUKS WHO ACCOMPANIED MR. BRADLEY. MONGOLIA. 599 largest specimens were brought back as trophies, and later mounted and presented to the American Muscum of Natural History. Orf the return journey, which was singularly . free from molestation by the bandits, the hunter had an opportunity to study the little-known Kirghis tribe. ‘This savage people live in the mountain fastnesses of Dzungaria and subsist on sheep and goats, manufacturing a highly-valued felt for their clothing out of the hair of animals. The Kirghis women, like the squaws of the American Indian, do practically the whole of the work, leaving the men to enjoy themselves by hunting. All of them, both men and women, wear pigtails, like the Chinese ; they are very dirty, and most of them never bathe, on general {Photo. principles. In general, they seem a cross between the Kalmuk and the lower class of Chinese, but are more savage than either. As on his return from his African expedition in 1905, Mr. Bradley brought back with him an interesting scries of photographs of his progress through Mongolia, and of some of the unusual sights he encountered. A selection of these pictures accompanies this article.

Page 609

qe Pew end & Jd & Imprisoned in a cave, with a shark keeping guard outside and only waiting for the rising of the tide to enter and seize his victims! Such was the position in which the author and his companion found themselves. What happened after- wards is graphically told in the subjoined narrative. clean pair of heels _ and a little note. The note advised me to follow his seceding example, or remain and take a moneyless rest. I acted on the latter ; I had to. After a week’s very active “rest” my abilities were sold to a newly-formed copper syndicate, “The San Fran- cisco and California Copper Company.” I was to accom- pany another gentleman as a surveyor on a copper- pro- specting expedition in Southern California. That week one of the Pacific Mail Company’s boats the Cr4y of Panama, I think sailed for Mexico and Peru, and in her we took berths. Ina few days we were dropped at Mazalant, a port on the west coast of Mexico. From there we crossed the Gulf of California to La Paz—an idle- born, listless town, having then but little, if any, excuse to offer for its existence. Here WAS in San Francisco taking my late employer’s advice —a rest. morning he had failed to meet his liabilities—and me. aa BY T BYAVC EAA : One He just left a, DR. BUTLER, THE AUTHOR'S COMPANK Dhes nw ON THE COPPER PROSPECTING EXPEDITION. From a Photo. we procured some over-ripe Mexican “ plugs ”—a species of quadruped, or, rather, acte vol- cano on four legs —to jolt us into the mountains. I do not intend to in- flict upon the reader the results of a scientific expedition which had for- its object copper- bearing rocks in that region; let it suffice to say that during this metal-chasing the examination of the trip Dr. Butler, geologist, of Chicago, and myself were the unaspiring victims of a very nerve trying adventure, which befell us on the south-west coast of the Gulf of California. One sun-bathed morning, fifty or sixty miles south of La Paz, Dr. Butler and I found ourselves upon the coast. He was examining and obtaining specimens of basaltic and tra- chytic rock. 1 accompanied him, ready to take bearings and measurements of the locality if necessary. We had just wended our way around the foot of a bluff and rocky headland when we saw before us a “U-shaped inlet, rock-girt on three sides. About one hundred and fifty feet across at its widest part, the cove penetrated several hundred feet into the rocky coast. Precipitous were itssides and sullen its outlines, but its deep and_ sparkling waters looked coo} and inviting. oogie

Page 610

TWO MEN AND A SHARK. 6ot In the blank and shrubless cliff across the inlet we discerned the gaping mouth of a cavern, with its lower lip, to the extent of a few inches, appearing above the water’s edge. “] should like to examine the rock formation of that cavern’s interior,” said the doctor, pre- sently, half to himself and half to me. « Then, after a momentary pause, he added, “ But how the dickens are we to get there, Bailey?” It could be seen at a glance that there was R be ys 83 a 3 3 & THE AUTHORS PLAN OF THE ROCK-GIkT INLET, SHOWING THE POSITION OF THE CAVERN IN WHICH THE COMPANIONS WEKE IMPRISONED BY THE SHARK no land approach to the cavern. Neither was there any material around us with which to con- struct a raft} However, it needed no sixth sense to solve the problem. “I guess there 1s only one way, doctor,” said I, “and that 1s to swim !” Both of us were fairly good swimmers and cared little for the watery stretch that separated us from our object; indeed, the project incited within us great and pleasant expectations. In‘ the overweening fit of enthusiasm that inspired us we considered danger of every sort out of the question. Accordingly we stripped, dived, and struck out with all the vigour commensurate with our high spirits Up the other side we crawled, and together prepared to enter the dark unknown. With my eyes attuned to business I noticed that the cavern was about thirty feet long and shaped like a trumpet. Inside it was about fifteen feet Vol. xvin.—76. wide by six or seven feet high. Once we were well inside, the damp, salt-laden air, together with the half-lit shadowy rocks, had a depressing effect upon my spirits. Next to a tomb, I decided, it was the most uncomfortable place in which I had ever been. However, in this ocean cubicle Dr. Butler pursued his investigations, for it promised some- thing tangible to our business hopes. Mean- while, accoutred in the unobtrusive costume of Adam, I squatted on the floor and watched him. He flitted from one point to another with business- like zeal. Presently he commenced to trace to- wards the entrance a side fissure in the rock. So intent was his mind on his “task, and so glued were “his eyes to the fissure, that he took little heed as to where and how he placed his feet, with the unfortu- nate result that, moving quickly forward, he stepped heavily .upon a sharp conical point and lacerated one of his bare feet severely. Some of the rocky scale penetrated the wound ; and to wash this extraneous matter from the cuts he limped to the cavern’s mouth and bathed his bleeding foot in the water, in) which task I assisted him. ‘The wound bled pro- fusely ; there was no stopping it for some time. Eventually, however, Butler got up, re-entered the cavern, and resumed his investigations. Not wishing to return into the cold and gloomy interior of the cave, I remained ac the entrance, basking in the warm sunshine. Except for a few sea birds that whirled in giddy flight far above me in the clear blue heavens, not a living thing gave signs of its existence. The transparent waters of the mighty Pacific, with the sun’s rays dancing on the tiny waves, lapped melodiously at my feet. Farther sea- wards, and as far as the eye could reach, the solemn, stupendous grandeur of the ocean lulled one’s senses into a benign forgetfulness. One felt one’s helplessness, one’s utter insignificance. But hark! What was that strange swishing sound that broke the silence? It was quite close to me—beside me. Horrors! I sprang to my feet with a sharp exclamation, for there,

Page 611

602 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. not a dozen feet away, was a tall, triangular fin-— the dorsal fin of a huge shark ! A cry from me brought Dr. Butler quickly to my side. ‘Great heavens!” cried he, visibly affected, as he gazed upon the hideous creature. “What a_ blood- thirsty brute he looks! The blood from my foot must have attracted him from the open.” A moment more and a terrible fhought flashed simultaneously through our brains. This horror-creat- ing denizen of the deep was our jailer! So long as he re- mained there our only avenue of escape was closed! The doctor turned and looked at me in silence, and in silence I returned his scru- tiny. Each knew only too well that for us there was no way of gaining the opposite shore and liberty except by swimming across the inlet. We knew, moreover, that if we essayed the passage one of us must be taken by the monster to pay the price of the other’s liberty. But, the reader may ask, why not, in prefer- ence to such a horrible death, stay indefinitely in the cavern, even to the point of dying of starvation? Unfortunately for us, however, we had no alternative, for we knew, from the marks on the rocks, that when the tide rose the shark would be able to invade the cavern! No; as surely as the waters ebbed and flowed, a certain and horrible death awaited one or other of us. Not a hair's breadth backward or forward did the creature move from his post outside the cave. Grim and expectant he lay there in all his repulsiveness, the vanguard of death. Once he tilted himself slightly, and by so doing showed us his horrid grey eyes and his still more horrid mouth—a mouth that bristled with many rows of teeth. The great brute seemed to root us to the spot with a fascination of horror, for time passed and we knew it not. How. long we remained staring at the creature I cannot say, “NOT A DOZEN FEET AWAY Was THE DORSAL FIN OF A HUGE SHARK.” * the cavern. but when we awoke from our terror-induced stupor our feet were being laved by the in- coming tide. : “ Bailey !” cried Dr. Butler, suddenly. “Come into the cavern. An idea has struck mewhich may save us. Quick !” Leaving the brink, paddling through the rising water, I dumbly followed my com- panion. Already his face had be- come pale and haggard; mental anguish unrelieved soon palls the brightest face. “Well, doctor,” murmured I, as we stood inside, “what is it?” “Why, this,” he answered, quietly. “Maybe if we keep ourselves out of his sight in this cave, and remain abso- lutely silent, he may get the impression we have departed, and then perhaps he will leave the inlet. I can sug- gest nothing better. What do you think about it?” “T guess we'll try it,” said I, with a little hope steal- ing back to me. “Right; now let us take seats on these ledges.” “Doctor,” said I, a moment afterwards, “don’t you think you had better take your injured foot out of the water?” By this time a few inches of water covered the entire floor of “T notice it still bleeds a little, and no doubt the shark will stay as long as he scents the blood. ‘Try that ledge higher up.” “How thoughtless of me!” cried Butler, changing his seat. ‘And now, Bailey, old friend ”—his voice grew grave—‘“‘give me your hand. It may be the last shake for one of us in this world, so let it be a long one and a good one.” Solemnly we shook hands. “And now, mum’s the word,” added Butler, calmly.

Page 612

TWO MEN After that we maintained a death-like silence as we crouched there in that ice-cold and tomb- like hollow, each busy with his own sombre thoughts. Occasionally, during this terrible death-watch, I glanced towards the mouth of the cavern and the sweet, alluring sunshine beyond. I thought of our position and shuddered. If our ruse failed, then every moment was bringing us nearer to that last awful scene, when the waiting monster would be able to enter the cave in quest of his victim. Soon—it seemed but five minutes, yet it must have been at least an hour—the water rose within the cavern sufficiently high to enable the shark to swim inside. From our ledges above the surface we scrutinized the sunlit entrance with straining eyes. Every instant we expected to see that ominous dorsal fin enter and cleave the waters within the cave, and thus raise our sensations to the climax of horror before ending for ever our nerve-racking vigil. But it came not. And so we commenced to hope that our trick had been successful; to hope with an intensity that shut out all other emo- tions. Now, if ever, the mo- ment for leav- ing the cavern hadcéme. Yet we felt loath to go, for blood “) HEADED FOR THE OPPOSITE SHORE WITH ALI MY MIGHT AND MAIN.’ AND A SHARk. 604 still trickled occasionally from the doctor’s wounded foot—manifestly a state of things that enhanced our danger tenfold. Still go we must, and each must take his chance. Calming myself as best I could, I menage “ Doctor, who leads the way ?” “You, if you like,” he rejoined. In this reply there was nothing suggestive of cowardliness, for to follow in the wake of a trail of blood left by the doctor’s foot was, in the event of the keen-scented shark being absent from the inlet, equally as dangerous as swimming in the lead in case the brute was still present. So I decided to lead. Quietly I slid down into the water “and anxiously commenced to breast the tide. At the cavern’s mouth I heard a quiet splash behind me—it was the doctor entering the water. The ordeal of our lives had now com- menced in earnest. Passing through the entrance with a prayer on my lips, I swam into the sunlit zone of danger. For a moment I was blinded by the myriads of dazzling lights that danced upon the surrounding wave- lets, and in that moment my consciousness be- came filmed over with the fear of death. With an effort I regained my self-control and_ struck out boldly. With what soul-harrowing dread during those first few strokes I scanned the waters no pen of mine can adequately de- scribe; never, I hope, shall I experience the like again. ‘Then, with mixed feelings of plea- sure and grave concern at find- ing the death- bringing fin absent, I headed for the opposite shore with all my might and main. Would the shark scent us and re- turn?) ‘That was the thought that rankled in’ my mind. Half-way across, as I turned

Page 613

604 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. my head seawards, I fancied I saw the dreaded fin projecting above the even surface of the ocean. ‘To fancy it led me to dwell upon the horrible reality of it, and my speed, in conse- quence, svon diminished. With a great mental effort I forced my thoughts into other channels ; then I commenced to forge ahead ‘again. Ir was not far now—a few more feet and I should be safe. A moment more and I touched a rock, and pulled myself ashore. I was saved! But what about my poor friend the doctor ? ‘Turning, I beheld him about thirty feet from shore, swimming very feebly. In his wake flotted a crimson stain and a clot or two of blood—his death scent. His face was ghastly pale, and its expression painfully haggard ; and although a flash of courage spasmodically illuminated the features I could see it betokened a speedy collapse. No doubt, seeing that I was safe, he had taken an extremely pessimistic view of his own position. He commenced to swim lower in the water, and I realized he was about to drown! ‘“ Doctor, doctor !” I shouted. “Buck up! Don't be afraid! ‘There’s nothing dangerous near you. Everything’s quite clear. Fire away !” The spasm of despair had passed. Well for him that it had, for at the moment I was about to plunge in to help him the deadly fin suddenly appeared close at hand. ‘There, a few dozen feet from the inlet’s mouth, it manceuvred around, apparently seek- ing the deep-water in gress. My eyes travelled “BENT DOWN AND SEIZED MIM, SWINGING from the fin to the doctor, and I tried to weigh up the chances between them. If the shark delayed a little there was a chance—just a chance. Meanwhile the doctor, innocent of his danger, was swimming a great deal better. But sud- denly, as I glanced furtively seawards, the huge fin abruptly turned its thin edge towards the entrance, and the brute came tearing up the entrance passage ina series of tacks as it crossed and recrossed the scent of blood. What was I todo? A few moments more and all would be over. With a voice into which I tried to force an air of calmness I cried, “Swim up, old friend! Put more strength behind those strokes —that’s better!” Out of the corner of my eye I saw the fin drawing steadily nearer. “Keep your eye on me—don’t let it stray !” I called again. ‘‘ Make for this rock.” The fin was now heading directly towards him! Beads of cold perspiration stood on my brow ; I ran into the water up to my waist and fairly shrieked at him. ‘Doctor! for the love of heaven—swim! Swim—swim for your life— quick! Ah! Thank God!” I bent down and seized him, swinging him by a mighty effort clear out of the water. An instant later the teeth of the shark clashed as he whisked by in all his hideous- ness. And then, saved from the very jaws of death, Butler and I fell upon the sand, utterly exhausted and unnerved. : MIM BY A MIGHTY EFFORT CLEAK QUT OF THE WATER, Digitized by Google

Page 614

Through the United States on Bicycles. THE ADVENTURES OF TWO BOYS ON A RECORD JOURNEY. By CLaupe C. MurpHey. This enthralling account of a remarkable feat has been specially and exclusively written for “ The Wide World Magazine.’ It describes the adventures of two plucky lads who, for a five-thousand-dollar wager, set out to cycle through every State and territory of the Union, starting without a penny in their Pockets and bound neither to beg, work, borrow, nor steal. All kinds of strange experiences befell the boys during their tour—which lasted upwards of fifteen months—and on many occasions death stared them in the face. This story of the trip, written by one of the youthful travellers, will be found a most interesting record of pluckgand endurance in the face of countless difficulties and dangers. I. tanooga, Tennessee ; Atlanta, Georgia ; Green- wood, South Carolina ; Raleigh, North Carolina ; Richmond, Virginia; Washington, District of Columbia; Baltimore, Maryland ; Wilmington, Delaware ; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ; Trenton, New Jersey; New York City, New York; New Haven, Connecticut; Providence, Rhode Island; Boston, Massachusetts ; Portland, Maine ; Woodsville, New Hampshire ; Montpelier, Ver- mont ; Wheeling, West Virginia ; Columbus, Ohio; Louisville, Kentucky ; Indianapolis, Indiana ; Detroit, Michigan; and thence back to the starting point, Jackson. The young wheelmen visited all the Western States without breaking any of the condi- LARENCE M. DARLING and Claude C. Murphey, aged nineteen and twenty respectively, left Jack- son, Michigan, on May 2nd, 1904, to make a trip by bicycle through every State and territory within the boundary lines of the United States proper—forty-five States, four territories, and the District of Columbia. The trip was the result of a wager. Upon the successful completion of the tour a purse of five thousand dollars would be won by the two contestants, providing that they carried out all the terms and stipulations of the wager. The conditions were that they were to start on this long journey penniless, while on the trip they were neither to beg, work, borrow, nor steal, all the expenses of the tour having to be met by the profits resulting from the sale of an aluminium card- receiver or ash - tray. Moreover, the entire journey was to be com- pleted within one year and six months from the date of starting —- that is, before Novem- ber 2nd, 1605. From Jackson, Michi- gan, their first objective ‘ \ CLAUDE C. MURPHEY AND CLAKENC AMERICANS WHO UNDERTOOK TO M. DAKLING, THE TWo YOUNG CLE THROUGH RVERY STATE AND TERRITORY OF THE UNITED STATES. From a Photo, by Lewts. tions, though meeting with adventures of every description, in some of which death literally stared them in the face. ‘The Southern and Atlantic Coast States were also tra- versed with all stipula- tions fulfilled; but when Vermont was reached the boys be- came financially em- barrassed, and were not able even to give their souvenirs away, much less sell them. The start was made in front of the Hotel Otsego, Jackson. At the finish — just one year, three months, nine days, six hours, and forty-five minutes later—the boys came from the eastward along the same street, dismounting at the identical spot from which they had departed, having in the meantime traversed every State in the Union on bicycles, and having covered exactly thirteen thousand four hundred and seven miles—a truly wonderful performance. point was Chicago, Hlinois ; thence in rotation they were required to visit the following cities : St. Louis, Missouri ; Davenport, Iowa ; Madison, Wisconsin ; St. Paul, Minnesota; Forman, North Dakota; Aberdeen, South Dakota ; Alliance, Nebraska ; Cheyenne, Wyoming ; Denver, Colorado; Salt Lake City, Utah; Pocatello, Idaho; Butte, Montana ; Olympia, Washington ; Salem, Oregon; Reno, Nevada: San Francisco, California; ‘Tucson, Arizona ; Deming, New Mexico ; Dallas, ‘Texas ; Ardmore, Indian Territory ; Guthrie, Oklahoma ; Arkansas City, Kansas; Little Rock, Arkansas; New Orleans, Louisiana ; Biloxi, Mississippi ; Pensa- cola, Florida; Montgomery, Alabama; Chat- Several years ago my friend Darling and I conceived the ambitious idea of making a trip through every State and;territory of the Union,

Page 615

606 THE and to make the journey either by train, on foot, on horseback, or by bicycle. ‘The idea at that time was very much in embryo form, but the more we thought of it the more enthusiastic we became. We cogitated the matter a great deal, but could not see our way clear to take it up, for business reasons. Several times we almost abandoned it, but something always happened to kindle the flame afresh. Finally, we received information through a confidential source that a very large sum of money was being wagered between certain Eastern sportsmen that a trip by bicycle through every State in the Union could not be made by any individual in the time limit of one year and six months, the traveller to start penniless, neither to beg, work, borrow, nor steal, and to make all his travelling expenses by the sale of photographs or some little trinket of a like nature. It is needless to state that we gladly hailed the opportunity thus offered us to gratify our desire to see the country | and accomplish a record trip. All our arrangements were made very much in secret, so that no one knew of our proposed tour until every detail of the journey had been arranged. One week before the start our plans were made public through the Press. ‘To such a fine point did we have our trip planned that we had a full and complete list of all the cities, towns, and villages to be visited, their population, and the mileage distances between the different points, so that we knew almost to an hour when we were due to arrive at designated points. The entire itinerary was computed by railroad distances, and in every case where it was possible our route followed a line of railway. ‘The object and advantage of this can readily be seen, for if there should be no roads in a district we could easily follow the rails, while, should the weather be very wet, thereby making the wagon roads impassable, we could make fairly good progress by walking the track and trundling our machines along beside us. The only cities which we were compelled to pass through were one in each State. At each point we were bound by the rules of the wager to see the mayor, or some other responsible city official, and get two statements or affidavits to the fact that we had called upon him, and were making a tour of the several States and territories in the Union. It was also necessary for us to get the post-mark of every postal town through which we passed. Besides this we had to prepare a report-sheet of our riding and expenses, and an accurate account of the number of souvenirs sold. The red tape and minute detail this involved were very irritating. The publication of our plans fell as a bomb- WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. shell upon the community. Some people said we were candidates for an insane asylum even to consider such a foolhardy proposition; a great many thought that it was simply a little newspaper story, that we might possibly start, but that we should be back very shortly ; and there were a few—a very few—who thought that it was a great trip for any young men to make, considered from an educational standpoint. Even they, however, thought that we should fail. After everyone hat recoyered from the first surprise, suggestions began literally to pour in upon us—how we should do this, that, and the other thing. Any man who had ever travelled to any part of the Union thought it is his particular duty to inform us how to proceed when we reached “So-and-so,” till our heads ached from the deluge of well-meant advice. Notwithstanding all the obstacles with which we had to contend, Father Time moved along just the same, and at last there were only a few days more between us and the time of our departure, when an unforeseen accident occurred. We were supposed to start without a cent in our pockets, and to have a thousand of our souvenirs on hand to carry with us. Everything in this direction was working nicely, and we had received word that the shipment would be ready for us in time for the start. ‘Then, like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, came a telegram which stated that there had been a fire in the factory and that we should not be able to get our consignment, as it had been destroyed. It further stated that another shipment could not be ready for nearly two weeks. Some rapid wiring took place between us and the principals to the wager, and after exchanging several messages they agreed to advance us enough money to carry us to where we should receive our shipment of souvenirs, this money to be paid back to them from the sales. This was very discouraging, for if our souvenirs had been ready we could have easily disposed of a large number to the enthusiastic crowd who gave us a parting ovation on the morning of the start. At last the eventful day dawned—the 2nd of May, bright, crisp, and cool—an ideal day for the beginning of our long ride. Our machines, which had arrived but a few days before, having been shipped direct from the factory, were of a standard make—heavy roadsters with a weight without our baggage of twenty-eight pounds, but when loaded nearly seventy-five pounds. We were both dressed in regulation bicycle suits, alike in every respect. We wore sweaters on which the scarlet circle surrounding a triangle, the insignia of the American Y.M.C.A., stood forth in bold relief-on the front ; this, together

Page 616

THROUGH THE -with the purple and yellow of our sweaters, the bright orange of our bicycle stockings, and whitish colour of our elk-hide bicycle shoes, made quite a dazzling display of colour. We carried with us a tiny typewriter with which we intended writing our reports and correspondence, and fitted neatly in the frames of our bicycles we each had a canvas touring case in which we carried additional wearing apparel and_ repair supplies for the machines. This was everything that we took with us at the start, as we felt that we could purchase different articles as we needed them. We rode down in front of the Otsego Hotel. It was then about 5.45 a.m., and there was quite: a crowd to ste us off, but at that early hour many were un- able to be there. After being photo- graphed and much handshaking all round, we mounted our bicycles and ‘rode slowly off on the beginning of our thirteen - thousand - mile ride. We had crossed the rubicon ; the die was cast! It was with very pecu- liar feelings that we left the city limits of Jackson behind us, for the thought came to us that possibly it might be the last that we should ever see of our native town. The first day out we covered forty miles, arriving at Battle Creek, Michigan, about four in the afternoon. The roads were fairly good, and for some days we got along nicely, nothing occurring beyond the common incidents of travel. Twelve -thirty one day found us ten miles from La Porte, Indiana, looking for some place where we could obtain our noonday repast. Hitherto we had always eaten at hotels and restaurants, but to-day we decided to attempt to buy our dinner at some farmhouse. Accordingly we stopped at the first house, and asked if it would be possible for us to purchase food. Some excuse to the effect that they had nothing cooked was the surly answer we received, also the pleasant information that La Porte was only ten miles distant. At the next house we asked the same thing, and were told that they could do nothing for us, but that Mr. Brown in the next house would undoubtedly give us our UNITED A PHOTOGRAPH OF THE AUTHOK AND HIS COMPANION, TAKEN JUST BEFORE PHEY STARTED ON THEIR THIRTERN-THOUSAND-MILE CYCLE RIDE. sr ‘ES ON BICYCLES. 607 dinner, as he made a practice of feeding travellers. We went to Mr, Brown’s and told him what his kind and obliging neighbours had told us concerning him. He was very indignant, said that he never did such a thing, and asked sarcastically, if we wished to buy our dinner, why did we not go on to La Porte instead of trying to buy it at a farmhouse? He was not running any tavern, he added, for the benefit of the travelling community ; when he did he would hang out a sign to that effect in front of his house. After the hospitable farmer had delivered himself of this speech, we thanked him very much and departed hastily from his domain. For the next two miles we called at every farm- house, simply as an experiment, and in no case did we receive any en- couragement — what- ever; everyone seemed to think the same as Mr. Brown. We wasted almost an hour in these pro- ceedings, and it was now nearly one- thirty, and we were still eight miles from La Porte. We reached that city a little past twoo’clock, where we promptly sought out a restaurant and ate an enormous dinner. For nearly twenty miles out of Michigan City, owing to the heavy sand, it was necessary for us to walk the railroad track. In many places, however, the riding was fairly good. ‘This fact caused a rather exciting episode. The Michigan Central Railroad at this point has a -double track system, upon which fast freight and passenger trains run at very frequent intervals. We were riding between the rails on the right- hand track when, hearing a rumbling sound and divining that it was an approaching train, we turned our heads, discovering that it was a fast freight. We were then about a mile from the road-crossing, and thought that, as the train was still at such a great distance, we could casily make the crossing by riding just a little faster. Accordingly we began to“ sprint.” When within a quarter of a mile of the crossing we looked around and saw that the train was rapidly gaining upon us; but still we thought that we should be able to reach the drossing before the train caught

Page 617

608 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Ie ee FR ‘OWE THOUGHT WE SHOULD BE ABLE TO REACH THE CROSSING KEEORE THE TRAIN CAUGHT Us. us. We did reach it, but only just had time to fall off our wheels and pull them from the track as the train rushed by with a hissing of steam and a thunderous roar. It was with relief that we left the railroad track to travel again a first-class wagon road. In due time we arrived at Hammond, Indiana, and after getting dinner here and making repairs on a punctured tyre we proceeded towards Chicago. Being strangers in the city, we had some difficulty in finding a suitable lodging-house, but after an hour or so of wandering we at last found that for which we were looking. It was almost an impossibility for us to sleep here, however, for men were walking to and fro at frequent intervals during the whole night. At last, in desperation, we arose and dressed, to find that it was 3.45 a.m. ‘Lhe day was just dawning, but it was a very dismal and dis- agreeable morning. ‘The air was cold and damp, and a clammy fog held the atmosphere in_ its grasp. We decided that it was a golden oppor- tunity to see the sights, as the city had not yet awakened. Strolling down Madison Avenue we paused to look at the filthy Chicago — River. ‘There were several barges passing, which, together with the operation of a “ jack knife” drawbridge, so coinpletely engrossed our attention that we paid not the slightest notice to the stray pedestrians who passed to and fro until a rough hand was laid upon our shoulders-and a gruff voice hoarsely growled in our ears, ‘Come on, kids! Dig up all you’ve got, and dig up quick, too!” We were very much startled, being taken so completely by sur- prise, and turned to find ourselves gazing into the face of a man perhaps thirty- five years old, dressed ina suit many times too large for him. His face was that of a regular “hobo,” or tramp, with evil - looking, ferrety eyes, and decorated by a growth of stubby black whiskers. He wore a slouch-hat pulled down over his shaggy brows, but we noticed that in the hands with which he grasped our shoulders he held no weapon, which was a very fortunate thing for us. As it had been our custom to carry our revolvers in holsters fastened to our belts, we had them with us at all times. Upon hearing the rascal reiterate his demand for our money, we reached for our guns, which were in the vicinity of our hip-pockets, my companion, meanwhile, mumbling something to this effect: “Well, I guess we'll have to, as you've certainly got the drop on us this time.” Then, almost simultaneously, we drew our pistols, which we turned upon the astonished would-be highwayman, and advised him that unless he wished to give the undertaker a job he had better make himself scarce in that vicinity. He took our advice at once—in fact, he was in such a desperate hurry that he forgot tq bid us good-bye.

Page 618

THROUGH THE UNITED One of the things which struck us most about Chicago, and one which is not to be seen in any of the other large cities of the United States, not even in New York, is the fact that the people move very fast while walking, and everything goes with that rush and bustle so characteristic of the “ Windy City.” From Chicago we went to Joliet. This stretch of road was good, but five miles south of Joliet we began to get a taste of what Illinois roads are like in the spring-time before they are worn down. The soil is a mixture of black mud and clay, and dries very slowly, sticking to an object in the most affectionate way. Our first experi- ence with this stuff was going from Joliet to Wilmington. When we reached the latter place we were-simply a sight. It had been necessary for us to carry our wheels for nearly four miles— no easy matter, as each machine, with its baggage, weighed nearly seventy-five pounds. Our feet were heavily loaded with Illinois “ gumbo,” and our physical exertion had been so great that we were on the verge of collapse. So it was with joy that we sighted the little village of Wilmington. Owing to the impassable condition of the wagon roads we determined to follow the rail- road track. It was necessary for us to do this nearly all the way to Springfield. In many places we were able to ride alongside the rails, but sometimes it was a case of walking. On our way beyond Bloomington we had our first experience of “roughing it.” We got our supper at a little village, in a private house, where we could get no accommodation for the night. We had, accordingly, to go on to the next town, something like twelve miles distant. It was a very dark night, the kind of night that is described in the vernacular as being “ darker than a stack of black cats.” Owing to this it was impossible to ride, so we walked the rail- road track. It was a weird and lonely tramp. On each side of the track for five or six miles was a continuous stretch of dense and impene- trable swamp and forest combined, from which continually echoed such eerie noises as the cry of a screech owl, sounding very like the wail of a lost soul. ‘Taking everything into considera- tion, we did not enjoy our evening stroll. At last, however, we reached the town of McLean, to find that, although it was only 10.30 p.m., there was not a person in the town awake, except the night operator at the station. We attempted to get some information from him as to whether there was an hotel in the place, and, if so, whether it was open. But he evidently took us for tramps, even though we told him all our troubles, for he would not deign even to give us an answer or acknowledge Vol. xviii —77, STATES ON BICYCLES. 609 that he had heard us, Finding that we could not get any satisfaction out of him, we decided to investigate the situation for ourselves. ‘I'here were no street lights of any description in the town, nor was there even a lamp burning in any of the houses. After I had fallen over a horse- block, badly bruising my shins, while Darling, in an attempt to find a side-walk, bumped into several trees and a telephone post, a representa- tive of the canine race decided to take a hand in the game and flung a series of blood-curdling howls upon the inky blackness. As we did not wish to part with any portion of our anatomy, or to leave any of our wearing apparel in the jaws of this ferocious brute, we decided that retreat was the better part of valour, and lost no time in returning to our haven of refuge, the railroad station. ‘There was nothing for it but to sleep on the floor of the waiting-room in the depot. ‘The air was very chilly, and during the night many trains passed through, so that we slept but little. We arose at four o'clock and walked the track to the next town, as the wagon road was too bad to travel by. The bridge at the point where we were to cross the Sangamon River had recently been swept away by high water, and rather than travel to the next bridge above, which would have been nearly fifteen miles out of our way, we decided, if possible, to ford the stream. Remov- ing our clothes and tying them into a small bundle, we carried them above our heads and waded across. ‘The stream was about four and a half feet deep, coming almost up to our shoulders. After we had got safely across with the clothes we returned and carried our cycles over. The water was icy cold, the current very swift, and, as the river is nearly three hundred feet wide at this point, it was no very pleasant experience, ; Throughoat this section of Illinois we had a great deal of trouble with our tyres. In this vicinity many thorn hedges are used. At this time each year the farmers are accus tomed to trim their hedges and throw the branches out into the public highway. They pierce a bicycle tyre very readily, so that we spent much time in repairing punctures. At last we reached Springfield, the capital of the State of Illinois. As it happened, the Republican State Conven- tion for the nomination of Governor was being held in Springfield, and as this brought nearly ten thousand strangers into the city, besides the delegates and their friends, the restaurant and hotel accommodation was somewhat strained. We saw no chance of getting a bed for the night, and accordingly went to one of the fire-

Page 619

610 engine houses in the city, and, accosting the captain, asked him whether we could sleep in the hay-loft. He informed us that it was strictly against the rules, but, as he had a boy who was wandering around in some corner of the world, he “guessed it would be all right.” We were far from lonesome that night, for there was a small army of rats that used this place as their head-quarters, and amused themselves by running over our bodies and tunnelling under our heads. Our route from Springfield to St. Louis lay through the largest and most extensive coal-belt in the State of Illinois. The country was dotted with collieries, while the “ chug-chug ” of the buckets which carry the coal to the surface could be heard always. The villages, for the most part, were typical of a mining region The cottages were small and untidy, the streets muddy and dirty, and everything seemed to partake of the nature of the mines, being grimy and streaked with coal-dust. As we were approaching Bunker Hill, about a mile ahead of us, and coming from the opposite direction, we noticed a man in a buggy wildly waving his arms as if in great distress. Thinking that he needed help, we hastened to increase our speed, but, as we came within hear- ing distance, we discovered that we ourselves were the cause of his agitation. He shouted to us in broken English, mixed with a great deal of German, from which we at length under- stood that he wished us to get off our wheels until he passed with his horse. It is doubtful if the animal would have moved a muscle even if a dynamite cannon ciacker had ex- ploded — beneath his feet ; from his appearance one would be led to believe that all he cared for in this world was sleep. However, we complied with the old USE eS, eh oad “WE HAD MUCH TROUBLE WITH TIE ‘GuMHo MACHINES FOR LONG DIST. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. man’s request. After the antiquated equine and his excitable master had passed us safely, the latter stood up in his buggy and harangued us with a speech the greater part of which was in his own native tongue. This was accompanied by many gestures, in which the shaking of his clenched fist in our direction figured prominently. Having continued this performance until he was nearly blue in the face, and was forced to stop through sheer lack of breath, the German drove onward, apparently feeling very much_ better. Without doubt he held the idea that when a bicyclist saw him approaching the wheelman should immediately proceed to get off the earth, It is interesting to speculate what will happen if ever that farmer meets a motor-car. As the Mississippi had recently been on a rampage and had overflowed its banks, we were not able to reach East St. Louis, which is in the State of Illinois, and lies directly across the river from St. Louis proper, but had to take a ferry from Venice, a small town lying some distance up the river. We spent three days in St. Louis and then proceeded to Davenport, Lowa, 7/@ Beardstown, Galesburg, and Rock Island, all in Illinois. NECESSARY TO WALK AND CARRY OUK NCES.” ROADS, IT B

Page 620

THROUGH THE UNITED STATES ON BICYCLES. 611 We had much trouble with the “gumbo” roads, it being necessary to walk and carry our machines for long distances. We became lost one night, and wandered over roads which were knee-deep in mud. After crossing the Illinois River at Beardstown we found the country very hilly, this being the case particularly along the river, which we followed for some distance. At Rock Island we again crossed the Mississippi and landed upon the soil of Iowa, this making the fifth State we had visited. Our route now lay along the Mississippi from Davenport up to Clinton, from which place we again crossed the river, returning into Illinois. The majority of the villages hereabouts were small, antiquated fishing communities, which had not changed in architecture or otherwise for half acentury. We were looked upon with . ~ -- suspicion by the in- habitants of these places. They men- tally resolved, appa- rently, that if we were going to remain in the town all night it would be a very good plan to keep a close watch on their pre- mises. In the northern part of Illinois quite an important event took place — our cyclometers regis- tered the fact that we had covered our first thousand miles. As we crossed the Wisconsin line and proceeded on our way northward toward Madison the country increased in rugged- ness. It became heavily timbered, farm-houses were few and far between, and the scenery took on an appearance of wild and savage grandeur.- We arrived at Madison, which is the capital of the State of Wisconsin, at 4 p.m. on May 2gth. Up to this point we had gained two days on our own schedule, and as for our expenses, we had made them easily from day to day since we had received our shipment of souvenirs at Springfield, Illinois. Moreover, we had been able to repay the sum of money which it had been necessary for us to borrow from the parties making the wager, and we were having no financial trouble whatever. Our method was to canvass the business portion of every town of A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN TO MAKK THE COMPLETION OF THE FIRST THOUSAND MILES OF THE JOURNEY. less than ten thousand inhabitants, but the larger cities we did not try to canvass, as it took too much time, and time was as valuable to us as the money. The evening of the first day’s travel out of Madison found us amid the rocky bluffs in the vicinity of Devil's Lake. We had in some manner taken the wrong road. The one which we were following got worse and worse, until it became nothing but a mere cow-path. This “turned and twisted in the most erratic manner through an almost impenetrable forest, while, occasionally, through openings in the trees, on one side could be seen a dark and grim outline of a rocky mass which seemed to be several hundred feet high. It was evident that the trail which we were following was winding around the foot of these bluffs. coal The woods were so | thick and the under- : brush so dense that we were hardly able to force our way through.” After wan- dering in this manner for nearly an hour, making but little pro- gress, and with hands and faces bleeding from the thorny bushes, we stumbled out intoa clear space, nearly tripping over arailroad track. We had lost all sense of direction, so we simply guessed at it, and started to follow the track. In _ less than half an hour we arrived at a telegraph station, which proved to be Devil’s Lake. + As the operator told us that there was an hotel at the lake, which was about half a mile distant, we felt very much relieved, and welcomed an end to our troubles for that day. Since leaving Madison we had been told all manner of hair-raising tales with reference to the trouble we should have in crossing what are known as “‘The Black River Wilds.” This wilderness we must traverse in order to reach the town of Black River Falls, for which we were bound. Ten miles out of Tomah this stretch of “bad land” began. ‘The soil was mostly a loose sand, but here and there could be seen a tuft of long, coarse grass,.while small grub oaks and

Page 621

612 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “WE WERE HARDLY ABLE TO FORCE OUk WAY THROUGH,” tamaracks, ranging from three to twenty feet in height, thickly covered the waste. There was no opportunity to ride, for we sank in the loose sand at every step. On our left, perhaps a mile distant, there seemed to be a chain of hills, which, like the wilderness, were covered by a tangled mass of underbrush and dwarf trees. Away to our right, as far as we could see, was the flat and unbroken line of the waste. In the hazy distance, their outlines showing blue and indistinct, was another chain of hills, similar to those on our left. In places we would come to morasses, to avoid which we had to make lengthy défours. As there were no roads what- ever, we attempted to travel in a straight line, trusting to chance to arrive at the right place. Many times we thought we were lost, as we seemed to be travelling in a circle, but still we plodded onward. — Just as we thought that we had surely lost our way, we spied what appeared to be a village a mile or more distant. This proved to be Millston, and consisted of two saloons, a telegraph station, and _— several houses. It certainly was a veritable oasis in the desert to us. From Millston to Black River Falls, a distance of twelve miles, we walked the railroad, which was far safer than attempting to find the way through the wilds. In due time we arrived at Hudson, located on Lake St. Croix, which forms the boundary - line between Wisconsin and Minnesota, Across the lake could be seen the high bluffs marking the frontier of Minnesota. We waited patiently for an hour or more, until a rather dilapidated and wheezy ferry-boat put in its appearance, and then we waited another hour for the captain to have a short nap, as he took great care not to overwork himself. A jaunt of sixteen miles over a rough and hilly road brought us to St. Paul, whence we journeyed to its great rival, Minneapolis. We had but little trouble in crossing the State of Minnesota. Our route lay through Willmar, Benson, Morris, and Wheaton. For a long distance after leaving Minneapolis we had the pleasure of traversing a built bicycle path. The wheelmen of the city have formed an association to which each pays a certain sum as dues every year, and from this fund paths to every village and town within a radius of fifly miles around the city are constructed. As we proceeded westward the country became very level, and on every side was a green expanse of young, growing wheat. Fences were dispensed with, not even the railroad right- of-way being enclosed, and wagon roads ran haphazard over the prairie. If someone got the idea that he could make a short cut by

Page 622

THROUGH THE UNITED STATES ON BICYCLES. 613 driving across the corner of a wheat-field he acted upon the thought, and drove over the growing grain. From Wheaton we went to Hankison, North Dakota, and from that place headed for Forman, which was our reporting-place for the State. Both of these points were in the extreme south- eastern portion of the State, and cven here the country was the wildest of the wild. Very little of the land was under cultivation, being used as grazing land for cattle. It is nothing here- abouts for a man to own a ranch of from six to twelve hundred acres of land, and the result is that one may travel all day without passing a human habitation, and the roads were some- thing entirely different from those we had hitherto encountered. Composed of three ruts, six to eight inches deep and several inches wide, over which the long grass grew, they travelled across the prairie in the most aimless fashion, bounded by no fence, signboard, or anything else to indicate where they went to. Owing to the recent heavy rains a great many of the low places, or hollows, were covered with water ; these are called “ slews ” by the natives. The longest ride which we made in any one day on the whole thirteen-thousand-mile journey was from Redfield to Mitchell, one hundred and twelve miles. ‘he roads were very good, and the country was flat and level. Sixteen miles out from Mitchell I broke my chain beyond repair. Darling suggested that we should tie the wheels together, and that he would tow me on for the balance of the distance. This answered nicely, and we rode up the main street of Mitchell with half a hundred of the younger generation following behind us at a dog-trot, endeavouring to find out just what kind of a machine we were operating. As we travelled nearly every day, Sundays included, we had no time to spare to have our washing done, but did it ourselves whenever an opportunity presented itself. Continuous practice in this line made us quite skilful washermen, We received our souvenirs in consignments at different points, they being shipped ahead of us. We were to receive an order at Aberdeen, but for some reason, although we, waited nearly two days for it, it did not put in its appearance. As we could ill afford to lose so much time we left instructions to have the goods forwarded to Mitchell. We arrived there only to learn that the parcel was not there, and remained a day, but as it did not come we requested the agent to send it on to Valentine, Nebraska. At Wheeler, which was a cluster of rather dilapidated houses, two general stores, and a large frame building which looked like an old barn, but which, we afterward learned, was the county court-house, we got our first view of the Missouri River. Here it was necessary to use a ferry-boat in order to cross. This craft was located a mile or more up the river from Wheeler. A strong gale had been blowing all day, and this had caused the river to become very choppy—so much so that the ferryman refused to take his craft across until the wind had subsided. ‘The boat was a neat little affair, something like forty feet long, and operated by means of a gasolene engine. The Missouri at this point is of a dirty yellowish colour, with a very swift current. It is over a mile wide, but so deceptive are the distances on water that it looked hardly more than a thousand feet. It is claimed that it is a very treacherous stream, constantly changing its course and forming sand-bars in its channel. Here, on each side, it was lined with high bluffs. We waited from three o’clock in the afternoon until nine in the evening before the ferryman would agree to take us across. As we swung out into the middle of the stream, the huge waves almost washed over the little craft. ‘To our consternation, when we were about half-way across, something went wrong with the engine and it stopped entirely. The current was so earfully strong that we began to drift down stream at a great rate, and visions of an un- premeditated trip by water down to St. Louis flashed across our minds. At this catastrophe the perturbed pilot Ict loose upon the atmosphere a perfect torrent of invective, which proved so effective that the engine again commenced to work, and we soon regained the distance we had lost. Upon arriving at the other side the ferryman proceeded to tie up his boat to the bank, and departed for his home, whicl¥ was two miles distant. We intended to ride to Bonesteel that night, but had only got a half-mile or so from the river when we discovered that each of us had a puncture in one of our tyres. It was too late to repair them that night, and, as there was no house in the near vicinity, the only thing left for us to do was to go back to the boat and sleep on its deck. When we reached the river the wind was still blowing strongly, while the waves dashed against the sides of the vessel with a loud splashing sound, tossing the boat to and fro, and it was oppressively dark. We dared not light any matches, as we were afraid that the owner of the craft might acci- dentally see them, nor did we dare to make very much noise. We succeeded in finding a couple of life-belts, which we used as pillows, and, stretched out upon the deck, we were soon lulled to sleep by the elements.

Page 623

614 THE WIDE WORLD A little past midnight I was awakened by rain falling upon my face, and discovered that a terrible storm was about to break upon us. Already large drops of water were falling, and vivid flashes of lightning illuminated the heavens, accompanied by peals of thunder which seemed to shake the very earth. I’ clutched hold of Darling and shouted, “ Get up, quick—there’s a terrible storm coming !” He jumped as if he had been shot, stared wildly and vacantly at the heavens, and then made a dash for the deck-house in which the engine was located, disappearing through the doorway just as another peal of thunder rent the heavens. The surroundings were so weird, and his actions seemed so peculiar, that I almost believed that his mind had become unbalanced — and that perhaps I had a maniac on my hands. As a pre- caution I picked upa large hammer which I found on the deck and pro- ceeded _ stealthily towards the deck- house. I got through the door- way just as a flash’ of lightning re- vealed the form of my suspected crazy man stretched at full length on the floor, his snoring audible even above the roar of the elements. After much shaking and shouting I suc ceeded in awaken- ing him, only to find that he had no knowledge of his previous actions and did not know oe he had got into the deck-housce. The storm now broke in all its fury and the rain fell in torrents, completely deluging the deck of the boat. The wind increased until it was almost blowing a hurricane, while the river became a boiling cauldron. ‘The ferry-boat tossed like an egg-shell, creaking and groaning like a creature in distress. At any moment we expected to see the little craft part from her moorings and go spinning out into the inky blackness. But, although the strain was terrific, the big ropes held firmly. How THE TWO CYCLISTS HAD From a Photo, METIMES TO QUENCH THEIR THIRST. MAGAZINE. The storm raged for several hours, but towards dawn it suddenly ceased, the water becoming as smooth as glass and hardly the slightest breeze blowing. During the time that the storm was at its height we hardly dared to breathe. If the boat had left its moorings we should have been powerless and the little craft would soon have overturned and sunk. During the storm the rolling of the launch had caused our machines to fall. Upon exami- nation we found that the top of the can contain- ing our tyre-patching cement had become loosened and all the cement had run out, mixing with the waters of the Missouri. As both our tyres were punctured it was now a case of walk- ing to Bonesteel, a distance of eleven miles, and we started imme- diately. We reached Bonesteel at 8.40, having walked the entire distance, and being nearly famished we made a rush for a res- taurant. It was our inten- tion to travel from Bonesteel across the Rosebud Indian — Reserva- tion in order to reach Valentine, Nebraska. By taking this short cut we should save almost a hundred miles, besides avoiding a belt of sand which borders the whole northern portion of — that county. Upon inquiry at Bonesteel whether it would be necessary to carry food or water with us in cros: he Reservation, or if we should have any trouble in finding the right trail, we were told by several people that we should find the cabins of Indians at intervals of a mile along the main trail, and that we should: have no trouble in procuring food or water. We were to travel what is known as “The Old Valentine Trail,” which was a straight cut going directly to Valentine, one hundred and twenty-five miles distant. From the description given us we had no fear of losing our way, as this was a main trail which

Page 624

THROUGH THE UNITED STATES ON BICYCLES. 615 would be easy to follow. So we ‘started at 10.30 in the morning, leaving Bonesteel behind us, to travel - although we were then in ignor- ance of the fact—across a one-hundred-and- twenty-five-mile stretch on which there was nothing but Indian aborigines, who talked very little English ; where water was scarce ; where a network of trails covered the country, running to all points of the compass, one being as plain as the other ; and where all that met the eye was a dreary and desolate expanse of robling plains thickly covered with long, parched — grass. Search as carefully as one might, a growing tree or bush could not be found, such things as fences and railroads were not known, and the labyrinthine trails consisted of those three deep- worn ruts with which we had bitter experience on the plains of North Dakota. All this, how- ever, we did not then know, nor that while on this Reservation we were to come face to face with death. x For fifteen miles everything went well; there was only one trail and that was very plain, but cabins or human beings of any kind we did not see. We continued to travel until nearly one o'clock, anxiously scanning the country for some indications of a human habitation where we should be able to get food and water. At last, to the right of our trail, we saw an object on the horizon which we thought to be a cabin. We found it six miles distant, and we had to walk all the way, pushing our bicycles through the long grass. The cabin was that of an Indian, who, on our approach, greeted us with a good-natured “Howdy?” He had a considerable knowledge of English, and we had no trouble in procuring from him plenty of water and a supply of maize-cake. Retracing our steps, we again travelled on the same trail which we had been following. We had gone but a short distance, however, when the track seemed to lose itself in a network of others which ran in every direction. We were ss to know which to take, but, noticing ch appeared to go in a south-westerly direction, we followed it. Many other trails crossed the one which we were on, some even running parallel for long distances, and we had great difficulty in picking our way. Now we would be twisting almost in a direct eastern course, then we would find ourselves going north and west, and ere long we began to have scrious misgivings as to whether we were on the right trail or not. The sun beat fiercely upon us, there being no trees or shelter of any kind where we could get out of the reach, even for a few minutes, of those fiery rays. ‘he temperature must have been something over a hundred degrees-- almost beyond endurance —and we were beyin- ning to feel the terrible pangs of thirst. All that afternoon we continued to travel onward, every minute increasing our sufferings. Eight o’clock that night found us still wheeling mechanically along. We had not seen any living being or habitation of any kind. Our lips were cracked and broken, and from them a drop of blood would occasionally trickle ; our throats were parched and swollen, and the vocal organs had become paralyzed. We could not talk, but made strange, guttural sounds, and our only thought was an insane desire for water. Still, like machines, we continued to ride onwards. Oh, how we wished that that fiery ball would go out of the heavens, and that dark- ness might relieve us of our sufferings ! Soon physical endurance reached its limit ; I swayed in the saddle and fell, while a few hundred feet farther on Darling was overcome, and reeled to the ground with a groan, where he lay stretched out, apparently lifeless. There we remained all night, both in a sort of stupor. No sound disturbed the death-like still- ness, save the occasional howl of a coyote in the distance. ‘Towards midnight the air became crisp and cool, and we at last fell asleep. When.we awoke the sun was shining upon us with the same intensity as on the preceding day. Although we were very weak we managed to travel all that forenoon, stopping to rest fre- quently. Finally we became so exhausted that we could not possibly go any farther. Stacking the machines, which afforded us some slight pro- tection from the sun, we resolved to lie down and give up the battle. All that afternoon we lay there only semi- conscious. ‘Then I awoke, to discover an Indian was stooping over and roughly shaking me. ‘This process he repeated with my companion. Leaving us and going to his pony, which stood’ patiently a few feet distane, he took a canteen from the pommel of his saddle, re- turned, and, lifting our heads, poured the liquid down our throats, ‘This revived us some- what, but still we were too exhausted to walk, although we tried our best. The Indian, noticing our weakness, lifted Darling up and placed him across his pony ; then, turning to me, he said, in very good English, “I will be back for you ina few minutes.” It seemed to be hours and hours before he came, but at last I heard the rapid galloping of his horse. He carried me in the same manner. ‘Yo my tortured mind and body it seemed as if I lay across that horse for a whole day, and that we should never reach cur destination. But suddenly my benefactor stopped his steed with

Page 625

616 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “1 AWOKE TO DISCOVER AN INDIAN STOOPING OVER ME," a jerk, and, dismounting, lifted me from the pony and carried me into a log cabin, where Darling was sitting propped up in the corner. The Indian busied himself in preparing some liquid, which he bade us drink. It soon pro- duced a feeling of drowsiness, and we both fell into a sound sleep. When we awoke next morning it was to dis- cover that we were alone in the cabin. The sun was well up in the heavens, and it must have been nearly ten o'clock. Apart from a soreness round our lips and throats we felt well, except that we were so hungry that we were almost tempted to eat our shoes. Presently our Indian host appeared, and soon set before us a big iron kettle in which there was a sort of stew. When we finished, the empty kettle spoke eloquently of our appetites. During the meal our host had silently watched us, and seemed to be much pleased at the size of our appetites. He next requested that we should tell him how we had got into such a predicament. We told him our story in detail, saying that we did not know how we could ever repay him for saving our lives. He said that was nothing, and seemed to want us to forget his kindness. He told us that the trail which we had been follow- ing was one which was disused, and led nowhere in particular; that he had been looking for some stray cattle, and, seeing a suspicious-looking object in the distance, had ridden oyer, out of curiosity, to investigate. The herbs which he had given us acted as a stimulant, and had removed the swelling from our lips and throats. He further informed us that it was only seven miles to the Nebraska line, and that there we should find the country somewhat settled. We tried to make him take a small sum of money, but he would not have it, and so, shaking his hand cordially, we bade him good- bye and started toward Nebraska soil. We afterwards learned that our kind Indian friend was a member of a band of “cattle rustlers ”—men who make a practice of stealing cattle from the range. The chief of this band was a full-blooded Sioux Indian, Canary by name, and a most wily and daring leader. A heavy reward for the capture of the chief or any member of his band, either dead or alive, was offered. In this section a “cattle rustler” is dealt with summarily, and is considered the worst of criminals. An hour or so later found us fording the Keya Paha River, which forms the boundary line. It was with elated feelings that we set our feet upon the sands of Nebraska, for we both realized what a narrow escape we had had from death. We found the whole northern section of the State to be heavy sand. The country was but sparsely settled and ranch-houses were few and far between,

Page 626

THROUGH THE UNITED STATES ON Several days were lost at Valentine, where we had to wait for a shipment of our souvenirs, but even here we waited m vain. To bring matters to a head we telegraphed to the company, receiving the following laconic message in reply : “ Aberdeen shipment billed to Denver.” ‘There was nothing left for us to do but to strike out for Colorado’s capital city. As our treasury was not in the best condition we decided to make the trip through to Denver as cheaply as possible, and to this end we slept at nights in box-cars or almost angwhere. From Valentine to Rushville, something like a hundred and fifteen miles, we kept the railroad — track altogether, walking nearly the entire distance. ~ We arrived at Bridgeport on the morning of July 4th, at ten o'clock, after a twenty-three - mile tramp. We had been walking since _half- past four, and owing 7 ie yaa yy to the fact that we ; had not had our breakfast our interiors felt decidedly empty. We discovered that although, even counting the number of people in the graveyard, Bridge- port boasted a population of only two hundred, yet they were having a glorious and rousing celebration. All the ranchmen from a radius of a hundred miles were there, and everything was moving at a mile-a-minute rate. Upon our arrival we were seized by the ‘celebration com- mittee” and hurried off to the office of the Bridgeport Weekly Breeser, where our complete history was written up, and we were urged to take an active part in their celebration by giving an exhibition ride. We expostulated and argued, but all in vain; they were obdurate, and we saw that if we wanted any breakfast we had better consent, and so very reluctantly we agreed. In the afternoon the sports took place. There were several races by “ cow-punchers ” on horseback, who dashed down the only street in the village at breakneck speed, leaving a cloud of dust so great that one would think it had been raised by a cyclone; the excited participants were cheered to victory by. the multitude who lined each side of the track. Following this several of the ranchmen gave an exhibition of shooting with revolvers and rifles, Vol. xviii —78. Froma hcto. BICYCLES. 617 their skill being really wonderful.. ‘he next thing booked was a roping contest, iu which a number of “ cow-punchers ” took part. Then the master of ceremonies, who was a tall, raw-boned specimen of humanity, got up in the middle of the street on an empty dry-goods box and announced the fact that we would give a half- mile dash in heavy riding order. He added further, by way of advice: “You sure want to keep out of the way, for when them fellers do come they'll come like blazes,” The street was very rough, and although’ possibly the race was very interest- ing to the spectators, there was no pleasure to us in being thrown nearly a foot off our saddles when we hit the bumps, but we did our best, with the result that we “sure did come.” We now turned from our southern course and went directly westward, following the line of the Union Pacific Railroad. The country all the way to Cheyenne was fairly level, and the roads of the rut-like variety. Occasionally along the railroad would be a telegraph station, a store, and a cluster of houses, but outside of these “wide places in the road” there were no towns at all. Sometimes in the distance we would spy a ranch-house, but these were very rare. As we worked southward toward Denver the country became very much better, more thickly settled, and with more land under cultivation. Irrigation seemed to be" responsible for this— nearly every field had its ditch. Every two or three miles we would come to an_ irrigation stream as large as a good-sized river, and across which there would be no bridge. It was, there- fore, necessary for us to remove our shoes and stockings and ford it—only to have the doubtful pleasure, a few minutes later, of repeating the operation. We were now travelling parallel with the Rocky Mountains, and to our right, like giants rough and grim, we could see the foot-hills of the famous mountains. ‘They looked so near that it seemed as if we could almost throw a stone to them, but in reality they were eight or ten miles away. Our stay in Denver_was_of short duration. AMERICAN LADS

Page 627

618 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. We did not | receive our ship- ment of sou- venirs, but in- stead a commu- nication from the express agent at Aber- deen, Southern Dakota, that the package was there wanting for us, after having travelled half over the con- tinent. It had been sent origi- nally to Aber- deen, Nebraska, but after much difficulty had at last reached its correct destination. This necessitated another long period of rigid economy before we should be able to get the forwarded package. We-tmmediately wired the agent to send it with all dispatch to Salt Lake City, Utah. Although this was a long distance ahead of us we wanted to give it plenty of time to reach its destination. Heavy repairs on our wheels and the pur- From a) FORDING ONE OF COLURADO'S MANY IRRIGATION DITCHES, chase of some articles — which were a positive necessity in crossing the Rockies, such as sleeping - bags, canteens, and compasses, re- duced our total worldly wealth to twelve dol- lars sixty cents. It was bad enough to cross the mountains with a pocket- ful of money, but when pro- hibited from begging, work- ing, borrowing, or even stealing, we began to feel the difficulties of our position. While in the capital city we subsisted on ten-cent “meals,” at the quality of which even a dog who had any self-respect would have turned up his nose. We left Denver with heavy hearts and strange forebodings of ill, wondering what was in store for us in the dark and menacing Rockies, which loomed up ominously in the distance. (Photo. (To be continued.) “THE BLACK LINE SHOWS THAT PART OF THE ROUTE TRAVERSED WHICH IS DESCRINED IN THIS INSTALMENT," y(5009 | eC

Page 628

THE WIDE WORLD: In Other Magazines. THE “DEVIL GAME." IABOLO, a game originally invented by the Chinese, and revived in 1812, when it became a craze, promises to become extremely popular in England during the coming summer. It is played with a top, consisting of two cones joined at their apices, and a couple of sticks connected with a cord. Like patience, it can be played alone or in a form of tennis. The game consists in first rotating the diabolo in the loop between the two batons until it is twirl- ing strongly ; then, witha sud- den pulling apart of the hands, projecting the spinning object into the air, to be caught in the loop of an opponent's baton and returned. To on- lookers it is the most graceful of games, and to acquire a high degree of skill assiduous practice is necessary. For ladies, too, it is an ideal game, teaching deftness of foot, quickness of eye, and pliancy of hand and body.—c. B. FRY, IN ‘*C. B. FRY’S MAGAZINE.” AN ATLANTIC RESCUE, a OMEN first,” roars the officer ina momentary lull, as the boat sweeps again under the vessel's stern. The men in the bow begin to haul steadily on the rope, stopping at sudden intervals as the sea appears to be cut from under them, hauling in ferociously as they swoop aloft again. A drag- gled bundle, uttering pitiful, choking cries for a husband, comes into their hands. But the call must for some time be unheard, for ber husband is captain of the ship, and will be the last to leave his post. — CAPTAIN F. H. SHAW, IN “THE GRAND MAGAZINE.” TOMMY ATKINS AS A SPORTSMAN. HE life is full of charm and adventure, and attended by plenty of danger. The risks of attack from wild animals are many, but the danger from venomous reptiles is far greater. India may be well termed a snake- ridden country, and one has to be always on the look- out, especially for the deadly cobra ai capello, whose bite means certain death in a few minutes. But “familiarity breeds contempt,” and the sporting Tommy soon grows heedless of such risks, laughing at the precautions usually adupted by a novice. Indeed, it is a singular fact that one rarely hears of a soldi r being bitten’ by a snake, although the deaths of natives from snake-bites reach alarming proportions in the year. — Pp. J. THORPE, IN “*THE CAPTAIN.” AN ECHO OF . DE LESSEPS'S CANAL. USTING in sheds at if Panama were 120 loco- motives — English, French, Belgian, and American ; at the canal’s mouth a dozen large tugboats were lying — rotten and useless ; while on a grass- grown spur of the construc- tion railroad, a few miles south-west of the Culebra cut, was a Philadelphia locomotive and a train of seven- tecn cars standing just where the engineer shut off steam when the financial bubble burst. and he and the crew left their work. The soil was soft and spongy, and the weight of the locomotive and cars had borne so he: om the track that the train had sunk a yard deep in the ooze.—-** 11T-BITs.”” WHEN GUIDES “GIVE WAY." NE sometimes hears of guides who support themselves in perilous places with the courage commonly called Dutch. There was a case of a guide who did so on the Dent Blanche. He was the only guide whom the party were taking ; and he had his flask of Kirsch in his pocket, and he sipped at it steadily as he went. The reaction followed | in due course. When at last he scrambled up on to the summit of the mountain, he fell upon his knees. If the Blessed Mother of God, he cried, would only help him safely down into the valley, never, so long as he lived, would he climb a mountain again. He did get down, thanks to the skill of his employers, who wrote some very — outspoken — observa- tions in his Fiihrer Buch. — ““THE COMEDY OF CLIMB- ING,” IN ‘S THE STRAND MAGAZINE.” IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT.--The attention of all readers of “The Wide World Magazine” is called to the announcement on the inside page of the back cover, where will be found full particulars of a novel and liberal scheme of Accident Insurance specially devised for their benefit.

Page 629

Odds and Ends. A Curious Election—The “ Fisherman’s Wall’’—-A Monster Firework, etc. J UR first photograph depicts the election of the Captains-Regent of the tiny Republic of San Marino, the only remaining independent State in Italy. San Marino claims to be the smallest (it is thirty-two square miles in area) and oldest independent country in the world. The Republic is governed by a Sovereign Council of sixty members, nobles and com- moners, fro:n whom the Regents are elected twice a year, in May and October. The election is the occasion of a very picturesque ceremony in the cathedral, after which the Regents, dressed in quaint medieval costume, take part in a grand procession, consisting of the bishop, the religious confraternities, the civil and military authorities, and the nobles, sur- rounded by a guard of honour called the Princes’ Guard, and the militia, headed by a = aoe ~ f military band. The entire gathering proceeds to the Grand Council Chamber, where the newly-elected Regents, accompanied by their pre- decessors, receive from the latter the standard of the State, the seals, and the keys of the town of San Marino. ‘Then, having delivered a short address in Latin, their election is duly completed. ‘ The top photo. on the next page shows a rock at Bonilla Point, at the entrance to the Strait of Juan de Fuca, on the west coast of Vancouver Island. ‘The curious contour of the rock—bearing a striking resemblance to a well- known American politician—suggested to the lighthouse-keeper there the name by which it was known, namely, “ Mark Hanna Rock.” This giant boulder was supposed by the settlers to be possessed of magnetic powers, and their belief in this attribute was strengthened by the fact ; = ia ‘3 re a ik . SOF THE CAPPAINS*KEGENT OF L KKPURLIC SAN THE WORLD. OLDEST INL-EPENDENT STATE Photo. MAKINO, “THE SMALLEST ¢

Page 630

ODDS AND ENDS. 621 AN EXTRAOKDINARY ROCK, WHICH WAS POPULARLY SUPPOSED TO WAVE MAGNE JUALITIES —IN A) RECENT From aj DISAPPEARED, that several fine vessels piled themselves up with disastrous results on the reefs at its feet. During a recent thunderstorm the Mark Hanna Rock disappeared, and in the morning the water flowed over the point where formerly it had towered eighty feet in the air. It is supposed that it was struck by lightning and shivered into fragments. In Northern Persia, towards the ‘Turkestan border, there stands, in the middle of an arid desert, one of the most extraordinary villages in the world. Tt is built upon a_ solitary hill, about a hundred feet high, rising abruptly from From a) THE INACCESSIBLE VILLAGE OF EYDI KHAST, PERSIA. the plain, and is inhabited by about five hundred people. Eydi Khast, as the hamlet is called, is as inaccessible as a feudal castle, for there is only one way of entering it—a hole in the wall a few yards square, con- nected with a mound across a yawning gully by a few planks, which are withdrawn at night, when the village is entirely isolated upon its precipitous hill. Shut up in this rabbit-warren of a place, and remote from civilization in any shape or form, it is not surprising that the manners and customs of o } THE ONLY ENTRANCE TO THE VILLAGE, SHOWING THE “pocTOR,” WHO REGULARLY VISITS THIS) STRANGE From a) COMMUNITY. (Pore, the inhabitants are peculiar. For in- stance, they never use soap, rubbing themselves clean with sand; they never cook vegetables or meat, but eat them raw ; and their beds, in the miserable: boxes which they call rooms, consist of a quantity of straw with a brick for a pillow. Once a week, curiously enough, a doctor — seen in the photograph above, with his donkey—comes to Eydi Khast to minister to any ailing inhabi- tant. This practitioner works in a highly original fashion, practising a kind of faith-healing. He carries no drugs what- ever, but he writes mystic sentences upon slips of paper, which his patients proceed to swallow, with—according to (Proto. all reportsthe happitst results.

Page 631

622 THE WIDE One of the most touching sights imaginable is the departure of the fishermen cf Brittany for Iceland and the North Sea. ‘The little vessels lie ready in the harbours, the fishermen and their wives and children are standing on the jetties, and the village priests are there waiting to give the men and ships their final fare- well blessing. What a heartrending picture it makes, that parting of husband and wife, of mother and son, of stalwart fisher-lad and tearful sweetheart! It is easy to read in their drawn and anxious faces the thought which is troubling every heart. “Shall we ever meet again?” With the unspoken ques- tion there flashes to the mind of each a rapid vision of the Iceland Fishermen’s Wall— “Le Mur des Islandais ” — which is the mimic resting-place of those who go to sea and never return. “If you have never seen the Mur des Islandais at Ploubaznelec, in the Department of Cotes du Nord,” writes a correspondent who recently visited that place, ‘tI should advise you to go there the hext time you are in Brittany. Next to the sight of the fishermen leaving home, I know nothing more pathetic. ‘There are dozens of crosses and tablets to the memory of those who have been lost whilst on fishing expeditions in the North Seca, and_ these have been placed there after a regular burial service. Husband, son, or sweetheart— victim of the cruel sea—has here had a AT PLOUBAZNELEC, PRITTANY—HERE FUNERAL SERVICES ARE HELD HAVE BEEN LOS SE From a Photo. ty Paul Géniaux, Paris. WORLD MAGAZINE. simulacrum of a burial; and it is here, on Sundays and fefe days, that you can see dozens of kneeling women, praying and weep- ing for those whose bodies rest beneath the treacherous waves of the North Sea, but whose memory is en- shrined here by a wreath or a tablet.” Here is a curious little snap - shot showing a big tree actually growing out of the roof of a house. This extra- ordinary freak of Nature is to be seen in North Wales,| at a place called Ciyn- nog, about twenty miles from Car- narvon. The trunk of the tree is quite eighteen inches thick, and its roots travel down the side of the house. The first photograph on the next page depicts a firework which would delight the heart of any small boy. It shows one of the monster A TREE GROWING ON THK ROOF OF A HOUSE, Fropra Photo.

Page 632

ODDS AND ENDS. 623 America, While several small steamers ply upon this elevated lake, most of the boats used are actually made of grass. The shores of the lake are fringed bya kind of marsh grass, tough and wiry, which can be easily braided or woven into a fabric. Taking some little canes, the natives form a frame roughly in the shape of a boat, and then fasten woven grass upon it in such a manner as to construct a light, water-tight boat capable of A CHINESE CRACKER EXPLODING IN THE STREETS OF HONG-KONG—SOME OF THESE ENORMOUS FIREWORKS ' carrying — fifteen From al q ARE SIXTY YARDS LONG! (Photo. or twenty people. e These queer crackers which are let off at frequent intervals grass-boats will last for years. Most of them by the Chinese of Hong-Kong during their New carry masts shaped like a fowl’s “ wish-bone,” Year's Day and the night previous. Each bearing sails made of the same curious material cracker is popularly supposed to frighten away as their hulls. one evil spirit for the ensuing year, and, judging from the pro- t digious number — of ; crackers that are ex- ploded, the demons inust have an uncom- monly uncomfortable time of it. Some of these enormous fire- works are sixty yards long, made up of a hundred — and __ fifty thousand pieces, and they keep up an un- interrupted succession of terrific explosions for upwards of ten minutes. ‘The snap- shot shows a fine specimen “in erup- uon” in a main street. The highest navi- gable body of water in the world is Lake ‘Titicaca, in South a TIRE-CHHI SATS” PE LEKE Ey OA ita

Page 633

624 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THE SOUTH AFRICAN FARMER'S WORST ENEMY—MVRIADS OF LOCUSTS COVERING THE SIDE OF A HOUSE. From a Photo, by Underwood & Underwood. The photograph here shown-—taken in South African farmer’s worst enemy; wherever they Africa—depicts a swarm of locusts which has appear the green crops are utterly devastated, alighted on the wall of a house, thousands upon _and the man who could devise some really satis- thousands of these much-dreaded pests covering factory means of ridding the country of this the plasterwork. ‘These locusts are the South — winged scourge would ‘deserve well of the State. Wive Wort Picture Tours nay | Cg Aa seh, y ert Alene nese a “iN MoNcOLIA 7 VILLAGE OF ScissoR-GRINDER" / ~, Guipps: 2 Serceant Dacey's L ORDEAL Lies *fLuriaus Election “Suppery Lets” | ‘Two Men & A SHARK EN yor ¢ Throvcn THE U.S.on Bicyces, } THE PLACER” AN INDIAN Snerrock Homes Ri A South African Pest Ps il a ON THE FRONTIERIN C. AFRICA Remarkable Grass Bualg ‘Two STrowAways —— = — SS - ——- THE MAP-CONTENTS OF “OTHE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE," WHICH SHOWS AT A GLANCE THE LOCALITY OF EACH ARTICLE AND NARKATIVE OF ADVENTURE IN THIS NUMBER, a is Dic » Google fe)

Page 634

Google jitized by Dig

Page 635

Digitized by Googl ; q ‘ ;

Page 636

Page 637

LT I 3 1951 002 8