The Wide World Magazine. An Illustrated Monthly of True Narrative - Adventure, Travel, Customs and Sport. Volume 20 1907-1908 November-April

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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

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THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO LIBRARY Digitize :y Google Cc

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Digitized by Google

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THE WIDE WORLD [™ AN ILLUSTRATED MONTHLY OF TRUE NARRATIVE ADVENTURE “TRUTH IS TRAVEL ; customs _ STRANGER SPORT TH AN . FICTION” VOL. XX. : ‘ = . NOVEMBER. 1907, APRIL pone ie LTD. 8 SOUTHAMPTON ST. s 190) STRAND

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7,0 t ? iv THE WIDE WORLD RAILWAYS, DERELICT... Ilustrations from Photographs REMITTANCE MAN, A... HS Ilustrations by Stanley L. Wood and from Photograp! RE-NAMING A NATION Illustrations from Photographs. RIDE TO REMEMBER, A ae ag Illustrations by George Soper and from a Photograph. ROBBERY IN THE RUE SCRIBE, THE.. Ilustrations by A. Pearse and from Photographs and a Facsimile. ROUND-UP, AN UNSUCCESSFUL . < ii Mlustrations by H. Sandham and from’ Photographs. RUSSIAN FAMINE, MY EXPERIENCES IN THE GREAT Illustrations from Photographs. RUSSIA, SENSATIONAL PRISON ESCAPES IN Tilustrations by J. Finnemore, R.I., and from Photographs. SEA-GIPSIES OF .MERGUI, THE ... Hlustrations from Photographs. SECRET SOCIETIFS IN AMERICA, COLLEGE Illustrations by Chas, M. Sheldon and from Photographs. “SHANGHAIED !” Ilastrations by E. 5. Hodgson and from a Photograph. SHIRT OF DEATH, THE é Illustrations by Norman H. Hardy and from a Photograph. SKI-SPORT IN AMERICA, THE Illustrations from Photographs. SPONGE, THE QUEST OF THE Illustrations from Photograp)s. TEN DAYS WITHOUT FOOD Mlustrations by George Soper and from a Photograph. “T—HOUSE” MYSTERY, THE “ Mlustrations by W. R. S. Stott and from Photographs. “TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS REWARD!” IMustrations by Chas. M. Sheldon and from Photographs. VENGEANCE OF MRS. KELLERT, THE Hlustrations by H. Sandham and from Photographs. VOYAGE, AN AMAZING +33 Illustrations by David B. Waters and ‘the Author, WALK, A SIXTY-THOUSAND-MILE Mlustrations by George Soper and from a Photograph. “WEATHER-PLANT,” THE ROMANCE OF THE Illustrations from Photographs and a Sketch. WHY I WAS NOT MURDERED Ilustrations by J. Finnemore, R.1. WIDE WORLD, THE. IN OTHER MAGAZINES ... Ilustrations from Photographs. WOLVES OF YAROSLAWEK, THE GREY Mlustrations by J. Finnemore, R.1., and from a Photograph and Sketch. “WONDER-WORKER,” THE... Illustrations by Chas M. Sheldon. MAGAZINE. oe Hf. G. Archer. was «Leander Kilpatrick. G. Clapier. James Simpson. Maurice Vernon. 283, N. de Bertrand Lasin. Howard P. Kennard, M.D. Jaakoff Pretooker. R. N. Rudmose Brown, B.Sc. «+ Paul Nixon. E. /. Harry de Windt. Murphy. Aksel H. Holter. Mrs, Keddell and George [awrenson. Harvey P. Finlayson. Major H. L. Ruck Keene, D.S.O. H. Ponsonby. HM. Vernon, .. Ernest R. Suffling. Yorick Gradeley. 242, Harold J. Shepstone. G. R. O'Reilly. 99, 203, 308, 411, 515, vee ue ae Henryk Rozanski. Graeme Williams. GEORGE NFWNES, LTD., SOUTHAMPTON STRFET AND EXETER STREET, STRAND, W.C. 293 118 529 303 107

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INDEX. plates cee ABDUCTION OF ROBERT ABBOTT, THE sf a a a. The Rev. F. Cowley Whitehouse. lustrations by J. Finnemore, R.1., and from Photographs. AFRICA, SPORT AND ADVENTURE IN CENTRAL .. Mayor P. H. G. Powell-Cotton. 52, 123, Hlustrations from Photographs. AIRSHIP, ADRIFT IN A RUNAWAY. Nea AES foe na wee Victor Pitt-Kethley. Illustrations by Chas. M. Sheldon and from. Photographs. iz ARABS, THE “WHITE MARABOUT” AMONG THE 65 cath The Baroness de Boerto. 36, Illustrations from Photographs. “BEER STRIKE,” THE GREAT GOLDFIELDS ‘eos a ee ao Se3 John Marshall. Illustrations from Photographs. BIRDS OF A FEATHER “ as BX ees ua Pe . Maurice Vernon. Illustrations by A. Pearse and from a Photograph. BLACK PRINCESS, THE a pe eel eee diss Lorimier Deane. Ilustrations Ly 'H. Sandham, C. R. Bowers, and from Photographs. | BRIDE, THE VANISHED _ ... ta ae tee a as Hi. M. Vernon, Illustrations by R. B. M. Paxton and from Photographs. BRIGANDS, A BATTLE WITH “a pee aes a a «David Franklin Morris. Illustrations by W. B. Wollen, R.I., and from Photographs. BRIGAND, THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF Aw. eee ee Gt tse pe Sulomone. 473, Illustrations by Paul Hardy and from Photographs. ar BROKEN ARROW, THE None eas er ped he A. A. Jefferies. Tilustrations by’ W. B. Waters and from Photographs. _ BULLS OF GORRUCKPORE, THE WILD ad a4 st aie Lieut.-Colonel H. G. Rylana. Illustrations by Lionel Edwards and from a Photograph. CHINA, THROUGH THE HEART OF ... ae wee mo J. Gervais-Courtellemont, 112, 217, Illustrations from Photographs. i CHRISTMAS DINNER-PARTY, OUR ate re aes a any Gertrude Page. ~— Mlustrations by Tom Browne, R.I., and from Photographs. CLOSE SHAVE, A tg a a) «. The Hon. W. M. Hughes. Illustrations by Norman H. Hardy and from a Photograph. ‘~LOUD-BURST, CAUGHT BY A ... be re ay a .. D. W. O. Fagan. Illustrations by E. S. Hodgson Fe from Photographs. -EPHANTS IN TRAVANCORE, “TRAPPING WILD... eee ee aid Mrs. O. H. Bensley. Illustrations from Photographs. OPEMENT, A REMARKABLE ... LT ee wae Je On Gregg. Illustrations by W. Edward Wigfull and from a Photograph. “EKGLADES,” WITH CAMERA AND CANOE IN THE ae ate ae Julian A, Dimock. Illustrations from Photographs. a -FIGHTING EXTRAORDINARY we ee oe aa & naa Frederick A. Talbot. Illustrations from Photographs. SPEARING BY_ FIRELIGHIT ... ao eS ei oe zee a at. Pitcairn-Knowles. Iustrations from Photographs. “S, A PROCESSION OF ma aad aay wee a8 on 5 o Ernest Wardwell. Illustrations from Photographs. rl GABLE, THIREE MEN ON ay ue ae wee aos ao AR. EL Arnold. Illustrations by Alfred Pearse and from Photographs. 3 cE, WAYSIDE SCENES IN ... ae 2 ae or ‘a ae rr A. E. Johnson, Illustrations from Photographs. \POTAMUS HUNT, OUR 5 is ie 3 : we ee Pn wee Rey Forsythe. Illustrations from Photographs. PAGE, 57 234 446 154

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INDEX. HORSEBACK, SIX THOUSAND MILES ON Mlustrations by Stanley L. Wood. INVENTION, AN ILL-STARRED Illustrations by Tom Browne, R.L. ISLAND, THE NAMELE lilustrations by A. Pearse and from Photography JAVA, SIGHTS AND § SIN Illustrations from Photographs. LAND OF PERFUME, IN THE Illustrations from Photographs. LIFTING A CITY Illustrations from Photographs. MADNESS OF DCN PATRICIO, THE... llustrations by W. Edward Wigfull and from Photograpns. MAN-EATER OF MALYAL, THE ... Mlustrations by Lionel Edwards and from Photographs. MAN VERSUS SEA es a a) Ae Illustrations by C, J. Staniland, R.L., and from Photographs. MAT SALLEI, TH ADVENTURES OF ae oe Hlustrations by W. B. Wollen, R.I., and from Photographs. “MISSION GOLD,” OUR SEARCHED FOR THE Ulustrations by W. Christian Symons and from Photographs. MOUNTAIN LION, FIGHTING THE Mlustrations from Photographs. MOUNTAIN OF THE BELLS, THE e Zs Ilustrations by George Soper and from Photographs.” MUN SAMIPS REV illustrations by W. B. Wolleny R.1. MUSSEL-FARMING ate os es ase ad Hilustrations from Photographs. “NEVER-NEVER,” THE NATIVES OF THE ... Ilustrations from Photographs NIAGARA, ILLUMINATING ... Ilustrations from Photographs. “O'BAKI,” THE QUEST OF THE Ulustrations by’ Lionel Edwards and from a Photograph. MYSTERY, AN ze Ilustrated from’ a Photograph. ODDS AND ENDS Illustrations from Photographs. PASS OF USPALLATA, THE Hlustrations by Chas. M. Sheldon and from Photographs. PEKING TO PARIS BY MOTOR-CAR, FROM Mlustrations by R. Lelong and from Photographs. POLICE-DOG COMPETITION, A .. Illustrations from Photographs. QUEEN'S TEMPER, THE ons by W. R. S, Stott and from a Sketch. MORE. SND OF A Rope KomLeR Door ... NIGIEE With A Horse Tuer Just IN Tim Hemax Pexpuiem Mippie Watcu A FigutT FOR Lir E —THROVGH Fine AND WATER XL—A Ripe FOR THE Doctor.. . From all parts of the World. . WC. Rose. AWS, . George Warburton Lewis. Pauline Aganoor. Ernest Dixon. W. 7. Hornaday. John S. Purcell. Thomas H. Tripp. Richard A. Haste. E. St. John Hart. R. F. Simmons. Frederick A. Talbot. Captain JL. Spring. Percival Lancaster. al. Piteairn- Knowles. Water E. Roth, MRCS. LRP. .. Harold J. Shepstone. . We Whitfield Fegen. The Editor. Wiliam S. Birge, M.D. Prince Scipio Borghese. James Walter Smith, +» Moung Shway. 459, C. A. Anderson, Mansel B. Green. , HH, Powell. Ones John A. Spring. . Walter Washington. . George Dargen. Captain ‘H. F. Heal, RNR. « Aifed E. Bennett. 1. A. Hamilton. SiG. Hamilton. Cowie. 100, 204, 309, 412, 516, J. Wilson.

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“«STOP, CLASHINGTON !? HE CRIED, FIERCELY. ‘MAKE BUT THE SLIGHTEST MOVFMENT TOWARDS YOUR PISTOLS AND YOU ROLL INTO THAT CHASM A DEAD MAN.’” (SRE PAGE 5.)

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awe mgs a3 THE WIDE WORLD “MAGAZINE. Vol. XX By WILLIAM Dr. Birge writes: ‘‘ This story is absolutely true the American Legation in Chile during the admi from his own lips and was intimately acquainted NOVEMBER, 1907. No. 115 THE PASS OF USPALLATA. S. Birce, M.D.. in every particular. Mr. Dearborn was Secretary of inistration of President Cleveland. I had the story with both him and his wife." The narrative shows how a young diplomatist lost his post, nearly lost his life, and finally lost his heart. HERE was a new hand at the Presidential bellows in Washington, and heads, some of which were silvered over with the snows of many political winters, were falling on all sides, in consequence of which the voice of mourning was heard in the land. In process of time this massacre of the inno- cents extended beyond the bounds of Uncle Sam’s possessions, and patriots who had exiled themselves in the capacity of Consuls and Foreign Ministers began to receive polite intima- tions that the land of their birth (or adoption) appreciated their self-sacrifice and sighed for their return. In the due course of events this decapitating mania finally reached Santiago, the charming capital of Chile, and Mr. Laurence Dearborn, Secretary of the American Legation, sharing the fate of his chief, found himself among the “outs.” ‘The young gentleman was. not overjoyed at the prospect of retiring from his. arduous official duties, but he did not permit himself to be unduly depressed in spirits. His honoured father, a magnate in Wall Street, had always evinced his paternal interest by promptly cashing the rather large bills of exchange which his son had taken the liberty of drawing, and so, while his chief magnani- mously handed over the office he could no longer retain to his successor with true diplomatic grace, and turned his face home- ward, young Mr. Dearborn forwarded his filial regards in the shape of another bill of exchange for a couple of thousand upon his sire, and formed the resolution of taking a saunter across the continent of South America. Vol. xx.—t. Within two months of this decision Mr. Dearborn had bidden adieu to Santiago and engaged the services of a trusty and experi- enced guide. This man possessed a helpmeet, moreover, deeply skilled in the culinary art, who always accompanied her husband upon his jour- neys. With these two companions and a modest retinue of not extraordinarily vicious mules, our hero set leisurely forth on his travels. There is not perhaps on the face of the earth a more interesting tour than that which the ex- secretary had marked out for himself. ‘Thus far he was still within the confines of civilization, and saw around him well-cultivated fields bright with the promise of abundant harvests, and to jog along the well-kept road on the back of his easy-going “ mache ” was but a holiday pastime. But in the background the towering Andes lifted up an awful barrier that could only be overcome by intrepidity, physical endurance, and patient toil. Beyond, the broad pampas stretched away almost to the Atlantic. But the variety of the prospective journey was its most agreeable feature to Mr. Dearborn. Though somewhat spoiled by the easy life he had led as a diplomatist, he was by nature cool- headed and adventurous. His route took him through a region that has been seldom traversed by his countrymen, and ere many days Bonifacio proved himself a very prince of serving-men, while his pretty wife Delor evinced absolute genius in the preparation of coffee and tortillas. On the whole, Mr. Dearborn was decidedly inclined to congratulate himself upon having originated so pleasant a way of getting through some months of existence. On the morning of the tenth day after leaving Santiago the young. American found himself

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4 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. fairly within the Andes range, and saw on either side the bold summits of the mountains tower- ing upwards until they were lost in the clouds. At every step the perils and difficulties of his further progress seemed to increase. ‘The path he was traversing consisted of a series of zigzags up the face of the mountains, which at a little distance seemed almost perpendicular. Up these steep inclines the poor mules toiled pain- fully, while the rarefied air, as they ascended into those regions of savage desolation, rendered respiration a sobbing labour. A little past noon the three gained the summit ~ of the Pass of Uspallata, and started down the other side. The descent was worse, if possible, than the ascent. The path—scarcely two feet in width, and encumbered once had the misfortune of an encounter on this pass, and then—ah, I shall never forget it !— there was such a battle as I hope never to see again. Men and mules disappeared down that precipice until one train left the path clear for what remained of the other.” It was, indeed, a situation well calculated to strike terror to the stoutest heart. Above them the mountain rose stern, precipitous, and inaccessible to any human foot. Below them the precipice dropped sheer down fifteen hundred feet, to where a torrent chafed and roared in its narrow boundaries, while the path on which they stood just sufficed to afford a foothold for their beasts of burden. And now a party was coming towards them from the opposite direction ! For two mules to pass with loose stones—sloped downward frequently at.an angle of at least forty-five degrees, and the caution with which the sagacious mules crept along _ this wretched shelf, overhang: ing an almost fathomless abyss, made it startlingly evident that the animals well understood the dangers by which they were sur- rounded. A single false step, and mule and rider would have been dashed to a horrible death on the crags far below. It was within an hour of sunset when Mr. Dearborn, each other on that narrow shelf was simply an im- possibility, and desperate, indeed, must have been the circumstances _ that would induce two human beings, no matter how well accustomed to mountain travel, to endeavour to do so. At a little distance in advance of them the path made a sudden bend round an abrupt corner of the rock, and disappeared ; but as Dearborn’s party re- mained motionless, the tinkling bell rapidly ap- who, in sublime disregard of custom, rode the lead- ing mule, fancied that he heard the faint tinkle of a bell. He carelessly mentioned the matter to Bonifacio, who, after listening for a moment with his hand behind his ear, called a halt, with every outward appearance of extreme per- turbation. “What is the matter?” Mr. Dearborn asked, looking cautiously over his shoulder, ‘ What danger do you apprehend ?” “The worst !” Bonifacio answered, in a sup- pressed voice. “A danger that will be the death of someone. That is a mule bell that you hear, and it is coming towards us.” “Good heavens!” Mr. Dearborn exclaimed, the awful reality of their position bursting upon him in an instant. “Do you really mean that we are about to meet someone in this frightful place?” “That is just it, sir. For twenty years I have traversed these mountains, and have never but MR. LAURENCE DEARHURN, WHOSE EXCIT ENCES ON THE PASS OF USFALLATA ARE HE! From a Photo. by E. C. Dinturff & Co. proached this point, and EXPERI. aten, soon the head of a mule appeared round it. As the animal came into view Dearborn saw, to his surprise, that it was ridden by a dissolute American he had known some months before at Santiago, and with whom he had had a quarrel. Behind this fellow, on a small but active mule, rode a lady, and Dearborn had just time to notice that she was a person of rare beauty, when both she and her attendant came to a halt. The recognition between the two gentlemen was mutual, and for several minutes they sat regarding each other in blank consternation, without uttering a word. The new-comer was the first to speak. “We meet under desperate circumstances, Mr. Dearborn,” he said, with an insolent assump- tion of hauteur. ‘I should have disliked to encounter you anywhere, but in this place 4 The man shrugged his shoulders, and left the sentence unfinished.

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THE PASS OF “I am as little pleased to see you, Mr. Clashington, as you can be to see me,” Dear- born answered, calmly; “but, having met under these circumstances, which you properly term desperate, we had better lay aside all feel- ings of personal animosity and consider what is to be done.” “There’s but one thing to be done, sir,” the other continued, offensively. “You perceive, I suppose, that we cannot pass each other. I have a lady with me; that lady has but lately escaped from her father, who has such an animosity against myself that, if he overtakes us, as he certainly will if we loiter here, one of us will be pretty certain never to leave the place alive ; and in case of my falling, the lady would be handed over to the tender mercies of a convent. You are prepared, therefore, I hope, to admit the necessity of our passing on?” “The necessity I have no disposition to con- trovert,” Mr. Dearborn answered, laconically. “If you can devise any means to pass myself and companions, I have no wish to detain you.” “This is no time or place to bandy words, sir. You understand my meaning perfectly. You must clear the path.” “ How is that to be done?” “That is your affair, Mr. Dearborn, not mine. Tumble your mules over the precipice and follow them yourself, if there is no other way. Pass on I must and will, and that right speedily.” The man’s tones stung the diplomatist to anger. “You are surely not so insane, Clashington,” he burst out, “as to suppose that I shall quietly sacrifice my own life, and the lives of my com- panions, just because you insolently order me to do so?” “If you won't yield to reason, you must to force,” Clashington said, decisively. And he moved his hand toward his holster. Mr. Dearborn had been anticipating such a movement as this, and before his insolent countryman could draw a weapon, his rifle, which he carried in his hand, was cocked and at his shoulder. 2 “Stop, Clashington!” he cried, fiercely. “Make but the slightest movement toward your pistols and you roll into that chasm a dead man. You have seen something of my skill with firearms, and I am in deadly earnest. A chance I will give and take, but you shall do the same.” Clashington paused, with his hand still upon his holster, but he made no attempt to draw the weapon it contained. Indeed, he could not well have done otherwise, for before him sat the vigilant-eyed secretary, with the rifle still at his shoulder, and he had seen enough to feel satisfied USPALLATA. 5 that the slightest sinister movement on his par' would be the precursor of instant death. “We must come to a parley, I suppose,’ Clashington said, sulkily, after a few moments silence, and in a far less offensive manner thar he had before spoken. ‘ You have something to suggest, L imagine. What is it?” “Get down from your mule, over his head and I will do the same. That is the first thing you must do.” “T will not do it. would be suicide.” “It is a terrible risk, I am perfectly aware, but it must be taken.” “Not by’me, however,” replied Clashington, sullenly. “Then I shall shoot your mule under you, unless you can shoot mine first, if you prefer to alight in that way,” Dearborn said, resolutely. “Come, Mr. Clashington, you're not going to do all the threatening. You comprehend as well as I do that your mules or mine must go over this precipice, and we had better be on our feet in the path there while we discuss whose shall take the tumble.” “I’m agreed ; but we must make the attempt simultaneously. Take that cursed rifle away from your shoulder. I’m ready.” “And soam I. Bonifacio, have your pistols ready, and on the first indication of bad faith on the part of that gentleman or myself, shoot the recreant like a dog! Now, then, Mr. Clash- ington.” During the foregoing colloquy Clashington’s companion had sat motionless upon her mule, pale as marble. Bonifacio also—until at his master’s command he drew and cocked his pistols—had scarcely moved a muscle, though the streaks of red that came and went in his swarthy face evinced the terrible anxiety with which he awaited the issue of the controversy while Delor, the last in the train, had quietly slipped off her mule from behind, and with a lasso coiled in her hand stood calmly scanning the scene, still and watchful as a leopard. If Clashington had entertained any momen. tary ideas of foul play, he abandoned them when Bonifacio produced a brace of heavy revolvers, and at a preconcerted signal both gentlemen began the perilous task of dismount. ing. With marvellous sagacity, the mules seemed to understand what was required of them, and half crouching, they facilitated as fa as in them lay the wishes of their riders. It was a dreadful ordeal, with the precipice sc close at hand, but it was fortunately brief, anc in less than two minutes Dearborn and Clash ington stood face to face in the narrow path. “Thank God that’s over!” the latter said, To attempt such a thing

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6 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. with an involuntary shudder. ‘What is the next horror, as you seem to have taken the management of affairs?” “We are now to determine which shall give way to the other,” Mr. Dearborn said, sternly, “and there are two ways of deciding that point —tither by lot or by wager of battle here, hand to hand, with knives or pistols.” “Make your proposition in definite terms, and I will accept or reject it,” was the moody rejoinder. “I propose this, then, Mr. Clashington, and you will see that I seek to secure no shadow of advantage. You have a coin in your pocket, I suppose ?” Clashington produced one, without a word. “ Very well!” Mr. Dearborn continued. “ You shall toss for the chances. If I lose, with my own hand I will shoot my mules, clear the path of them, and myself and companions will either take the risk of getting by you, giving you the inside of the path, or of retracing our steps as best we may, on foot. Heaven knows there will not be much to choose between the alternatives, for to keep this track, where mules can scarcely maintain their footing, with night coming on, is well-nigh im- possible. If you lose, you must clear the way for me.” “But I have a lady with me,” Mr. Clashington said, breathing thick and hard. “And I have a woman with me,” was the prompt answer. “Peasant and prince must here meet on the same footing.” “That is right,” said the clear voice of Mr. Clashing- ton’s companion, speaking for the first time. ‘“ The gentleman proposes the only course that can be pursued.” “It is an awful - hazard to stake on one throw,” Clashington retorted, hoarsely ; “but I see no alternative, and accept your proposition. What is your choice ?” “Heads!” Dearborn answered, promptly. “ Here goes, then.” “THE LITTLE GOLD PIECE SPUN INTO THE AIR,” The little gold piece spun into the air and fell with a sharp, metallic ring upon the rock at their feet. “Heads have it. I have won!” Dearborn pointed to the coin. “ But it is awful to be the winner in a game like this.” “I won’t submit!” Clashington cried, ex- citedly, while a dull red colour suffused his face.

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THE PASS OF USPALLATA. 7 “Tam not going to be tricked out of my life! I will have another trial.” There was an ominous look on Bonifacio’s face, and he fingered his revolvers nervously. But any demonstration he might have contem- plated making was arrested by the calm, sweet voice of the lady. “The trial was fairly made, and there shall be no other. The gentleman’s conduct has been honou able from first to last, and it shames me that my escort should have acted the unmanly part he has today. I will trouble him no further with the care of me. I was born in the shadow of the mountains, and with God’s help can find my way back alone.” ‘* What I have done has been for your sake, Helena,” cried Clashington, angrily. ‘“ Do you cast me off for this?” “*Cowardice and dishonour are not the weapons with which I care to be defended,” the lady answered, with supreme scorn. “TI understand your character now. Our relations, if not our lives, end here, and I will try to save my- self.” At a word of command, her mule crouched upon his naunches like a cat, and extri- cating herself from the saddle, the lady slid cautiously and safely into the path. . You can now clear the way for yourself, sefior,” she said, addressing Mr. Dear- born, “if this man still re- fuses to fulfil his compact ; but allow me a moment to get out of sight round yonder point before you send my poor animal to his death.” “By Heaven! I will not lose tyou in this way!” shouted Clashington, fiercely. “ Dearborn, our accounts are not adjusted yet.” He sprang towards his mule, which stood first in the path, and by an almost super- human exercise of strength © and agility fairly shoved him over the cliff. Down, down the ravine the poor beast plunged, with a wailing cry that was pitiful to hear; then Clashington grappled savagely with the remaining one, which alone obstructed his way. Still crouching, as he had placed himself, to allow his mistress to alight, the mule eyed his + assailant with a look of sagacity that was almost human, and seemed to brace himself for resistance. Clashington seized him round the THE LADY WHOSE ACQUAINTANCE MR. DEARBORN MADE UNDER SUCH TRAGIC CIRCUMSTANCES ON THE USPALLATA PASS, AND WHO AFTERWARDS BECAME HIS WIFE, From a Photo. by The Ritz Art Stadio. neck, and, tugging with what appeared to be the concentrated strength of a dozen men, lifted his fore-feet from the rock. The poor mule’s hour had come, and he evidently understood it; but with that instinct that actuates humanity and the brute creation alike to return blow for blow, he seized his assailant firmly with his teeth, and both together toppled over into the awful abyss ! One wild death-yell rang out on the still mountain air, and Dearborn's path was clear before him. For a few moments, however, all four travellers stood mute with horror at the tragedy they had just witnessed, and then Dearborn approached the lady, who still remained where she had first dismounted. “This is a dreadful calamity,” he said ; “ but I trust you hold me blameless for my part in to-day’s transactions.” “You have nothing to reproach yourself with,” she answered, in trembling tones. “He has only met the doom to which he would have consigned you without hesitation, had, it been in his power.” “Tam afraid you are right; but now we must look to our- selves. Night is coming on rapidly, and it must not find us in this place.” Their situation was, indeed, most critical. Dearborn could neither remount his mule nor assist the lady to do so, and from their position she was obliged to lead the way. Bonifacio took such precau- tion as he could for her safety, by passing to her one end of his lasso, which she secured round her waist, and they began their perilous march. Night came on apace, but fortunately the stars shone brightly, and they crept along the narrow shelf, step by step, scarcely daring to breathe, and clinging to the rock with a grasp of desperation whenever a gust of wind swept by them. Three hours of this nerve-racking labour brought them to the end of that dreadful pass, and soon after they reached a casucha, a strong structure built for the protection of travellers, where they halted till daybreak. They were scarcely housed when they were startled by the arrival of travellers from the

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8 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “SOTH TOGETHER TOPPLED OVER INTO THE AWFUL abyss!” opposite direction. ‘These proved to be the lady’s father and his followers. The old Spaniard was overjoyed at the recovery of his daughter, and was pleased to regard Mr. Dearborn as one who had saved her from the wiles of a designing villain. Indeed, he took a decided liking to the young American, and the next day the whole party resumed their journey together on the most amicable terms. Mr. Dearborn spent some months at Men- doza, at the home of his new acquaintances, and when he departed thence it was not to resume his journey across the continent, but to return to Santiago, en roufe for Valparaiso, accompanied by his wife, who was no other than the lady he had met for the first time under such strange and tragic circumstances in the Pass of Uspallata. Digitized by (sOC C

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Fire-Fighting Extraordinary. By Freperick A. TALBOT. In Pennsylvania there is a coal-mine which has been on fire for over fifty years, defying all attempts to extinguish it. This article describes how the conflagration broke out, how it spread ruin and desolation throughout a large region, and by what remarkable means the engineers in charge hope to check the conflagration and save the millions of tons of coal yet unconsumed—the most remarkable and costly piece of salvage on record. ear WING to the improved methods that WAP are now adopted in the mining of coal, and the multiplicity of pre- cautions enforced to prevent the = outbreak of fire in the subterranean workings, the possibility of a conflagration breaking out and assuming such proportions as to defy all efforts to extinguish it is fortunately very remote. Occasionally, owing to some dereliction of duty on the part of an unthinking miner, an explosion is precipitated, dealing death and ruin on all sides, but thanks to the perfect equipment of the collieries for coping with fires, it is very seldom that the flames secure a sufficiently firm hold to, resist the efforts of the fire-fighters for more than a few days. At the present moment, however, there is one’ coal mine fire which, having raged practically unchecked for half a century, has now obtained such a firm grip that the most elaborate scheme ever devised has been put into operation in the effort to extinguish it. This extraordinary con- flagration, which is without doubt the largest and longest-enduring colliery fire in the annals of mining, is in the Greenwood Colliery of the Lehigh Valley Coal and Navigation Company, in the centre of the extensive Pennsylvania anthracite region. In this rugged country the numerous hills are practically one mass of coal, the quantity of which can only be estimated io millions of tons. The Greenwood colliery burrows into the heart of one of these mountains of coal, the THE SUMMIT AIN OF COAL—NEARLY TWO MILLION GALLONS OF WATER ARE PUMI'ED TO VERY TWENTY-FOUR HOURS. (Photo.

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To THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THR VAT AT THE TOP OF THE MOUNTAINSTHE TRUCK IS DUMPING “CULM” INTO A rOCKET BELOW, WHERE IT 15 MIXED WITH WATER From a) vein of the principal seam being no less than sixty feet in thickness, while it is surrounded by numerous other smaller though equally valuable seams. It is among these veins that the fire is raging, eating its way slowly but surely through the massed deposits of fuel and leaving desola- tion i its wake. How many million tons of the anthracite have already been devoured by the insatiable flames it is impossible to estimate, for it must be well-nigh incalculable. The story of the outbreak is a simple one ; it resulted from a pure accident. Some fifty years ago a miner, having finished work for the day, was walking through the workings of the colliery when by some means or other his lamp came into momentary contact with one of the beams supporting the roof in the main gallery. The man passed on, ignorant of the fact that this slight mishap had kindled a spark. The timber, having become soaked with oil from long usage and handling, was an ideal spot for the outbreak of a fire, and the draught of air cir- culating through the gallery soon served to fan the little spark into flames. As the miner was the last man to leave that section of the mine that day the fire raged urmoticed throughout the night. Next morning when the fire-superintendent made his customary descent into the mine before the men commenced their daily tasks he was brought to a sudden stop by dense clouds of suffocating smoke. Instantly he realized the AND THEN CONVEVED BY THE WOODEN TROUGHS TO THK BORK-HOLES. (Photo. situation—the mine was on fire! Pluckily he attempted to penetrate the pall of smoke to ascertain the location of the outbreak, but the fumes were so dense and overpowering that he could make no headway. The sound of ominous dull rumblings reverberat- ing through the workings also broke upon his ear at frequent intervals. Only too well he realized their terrible import. Masses of released gases, as they came into contact with the flames, were exploding with tremendous violence. Hurriedly he returned to the surface and quickly disseminated the news that a terrible fire was raging in the subterranean workings. A large gang of determined fire-fighters was at once enrolled, and together they descended the mine, equipped with the best means of quench- ing the conflagration at their disposal. Heroic were their attempts to wrest the colliery from the terrible embrace of the fire-fiend, but as the flames had been roaring unnoticed all night, they had secured too firm a grip to be easily subdued. With commendable determina- tion the men forced their way towards the seat of the outbreak, but their heroism was in vain. Explosion followed explosion with startling rapidity and the task became a highly dangerous one. Many men lost their lives either by falling masses of coal, loosened by the recurring explosions, or through being suffocated by the smoke and poisonous after-damp. ee a SO iene, ppl Pr. prety a a i fang ci gp mas

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FIRE - FIGHTING Day and night without cessation the workers struggled for several months, but without success. As a matter of fact, the fire spread with alarming rapidity, and at last the whole mine was ablaze, the men being compelled to. abandon their efforts, completely baffled. For several years the fire raged unchecked, and then another attempt was made to subdue the outbreak. In the meantime new appliances for fighting colliery fires had been evolved and developed, and, armed with these, the men boldly essayed what had now become an almost superhuman achievement. Owing to the fact that the flames were raging at a point akove the water-level it was impossible to flood the mine, flames. EXTRAORDINARY. Ir have held undisputed sway, and until the present attempt was made raged more furiously than ever. The visitor to the mountain for the first time would not suspect that beneath his feet a terrible underground fire was raging with the intensity of a volcano. No signs of a conflagration can be seen; no flames are visible, nor do the slightest traces of smoke rise from the ground. Here and there may be seen enormous pits where the surface of the mountain has fallen in, owing to a huge area of coal many hundreds of feet below having been eaten away by the At places in these cave-ins may be observed slight traces of the fire beneath in the PREPARING TO BORE A HOLK THROUGH THE MOUNTAIN-SIDE TO THR PIRE-ZONE, HUNDREDS OF PRET BELOW. From a Photo. although ample facilities for so doing, if it had been possible, were available, since the mountain is bounded on one side by the Little Schuyl- kill River and on another by Panther Creek. During the ensuing years spasmodic attempts to overcome the fire were made, but one and all were completely unsuccessful, until at last it was generally believed that the coal mountain was absolutely doomed, and the fire-fighters retired from the unequal conflict completely worsted. Consequently, for several years past the flames form of clouds of filmy vapour, but they would escape observation by all except those who knew where to look. The many unoccupied homesteads scattered round the -district might possibly excite curiosity, but they would be attributed to one of those general exoduses of the inhabitants which periodically occur in industrial centres, where the means of livelihood is transported from one point to another. In some cases the subsidences have occurred close to the dwellings, arousing alarm among

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. colliery conflagrations in 12 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a) the inmates, who confidently expect that sooner or later the ground beneath them will subside, causing the habitations to collapse as if torn and rocked by an earthquake. A little while ago the owners of the colliery, realizing that there still existed many million tons of coal which had not yet been reached by the flames, resolved to put forth a herculean effort to extinguish the fire, and then, by resuming operations, bring back to the district _ the prosperity it formerly enjoyed. The reason for this action was the discovery of a new and efficient means of fighting coal-mine fires which had been tested upon a practical scale in other similarly afflicted mines in this coal country with complete success. The method adopted is to flood the workings with a mixture of water and “culm,” the latter being the residue and waste dirt products from the mines. When these ingredients are mixed they constitute a substance similar in nature to concrete, which when scientifi- cally and methodically pumped into the fire area, forms a barrier through which the flames cannot pass, owing to the lack of combustible materials. In this way the fire-zone is gradually narrowed down, until at last the flames are so hemmed in that they become smothered through deficiency of oxygen. This method has been adopted in the cases of one or two other the Pennsylvania ‘coal area—notably at the Baltimore Mine. Here a fire, which, although of smaller pro- THE WOKING MACHINE AT WORK, (Photo. portions than that raging at Greenwood, has been in progress for twenty-six years, has been completely enveloped by a wall of culm, and although there are no hopes of subduing the fire entirely, yet by localizing it other parts of the coal area immediately surrounding it can be safely and successfully worked, and the fire in time will burn itself out owing to the lack of fresh supplies upon which to feed. It may be pointed out that flooding, even if possible, would be of little avail, as the gases emitted from the fire, being compressed by the approaching water, would hold the latter back finally as firmly as a stone wall. The scheme for subduing this particular con- flagration is now being actively pursued. At the foot of the mountain, on the east bank of the Little Schuylkill River, a powerful pumping station has been erected, replete with modern machinery, and capable of lifting some 1,728,000 gallons of water every twenty-four hours to the top of the mountain for dispersal in the burning area. This water is pumped through a main which runs along the river bank from the pumping station for a short distance, and then bends abruptly and climbs the steep mountain-side to the highest point Here the water runs into a wooden trough two feet wide by twelve inches deep. This conduit runs down for a distance of three thousand feet from the top of the peak to a point where a huge vat has been erected. — EY ——-, ms ee eg ee,

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FIRE - FIGHTING A network of railways has also been laid down, by which the culm is collected from the various collieries worked by the Lehigh Coal and Navigation Company. The trucks contain- ing the material are hauled up the mountain- side until they come over the point where the vat is placed, where the culm is dumped into the vat through a hole in the platform, and there mixed with the water until it is of the consistency of treacle. It is then conveyed by numerous wooden sluices ramifying in all direc- tions to the various points where the fire area has been tapped. ; At numerous places on the mountain holes have been drilled, all leading into the fire-zone. There are dozens: of these borings, each six inches in diameter. The drilling of these holes, needless to say, is an arduous task, the necessary plant having to be dragged over the rugged ground to the required point, but once set to work, the drill rapidly bores its way through the rocky soil to the fire hundreds of feet below. These borings constitute admirable vent-holes through which the accumulated gases of com- bustion in the subterranean fiery furnace below can escape, so that there is no possibility of the compressed gases forming a powerful blanket against which the culm cannot force its way. When the boring is completed a section of wooden troughing, connecting with the numerous EXTRAORDINARY. 13 similar conduits extending to the mixing vat above, is laid down, and the viscous mixture rushes down the trough and drops through the bore-hole into the fire area beneath. The pro- cess is continued until so much culm has been emptied that the bore-hole is filled. The pro- ceedings are then repeated at another point a few feet away. The work is continued day and night without cessation, since the engineers are determined to conquer the flames if it is within human power to do so. The culm rushes down the bore- holes with great speed, thousands of gallons being thus dispersed every hour. ‘The space in the mine where the fire has consumed the coal is evidently of great extent, judging from the enormous quantities of the extinguishing medium that have already been injected. The culm, when it reaches the scene of the fire, spreads out in all directions, forcing its way slowly but irresistibly against the flames through the galleries and workings, and thereby filling up every little crevice. Gradually it sets, and in time becomes as hard as the neighbouring rock itself. . Being non-combustible, the flames can- not feed upon it, and thus the fire is being split up into sections, which in time must be conquered owing to the supply of oxygen being cut off. The shaft leading from the outer air to the workings has already been securely sealed From a) THE FIRE-ZONE REACHED—THE BORK-HOLE IS KEADY FOR CONNECTION WITH THE CULM" VAT. (Photo.

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14 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. up, so that the fires cannot receive any supply of air from that source. Owing to the zeal with which the flooding operations are being carried out, the culm is being emptied into the burning area faster than the fire can eat its way into the unconsumed deposits of coal beneath. The engineers are confident of ultimate success, though it is mated that the task will occupy some two years or more before victory will rest with them, by which time over two hundred thousand pounds will have been expended. The under- enveloped by an impassable barrier of culm, so that it will be possible to resume mining opera- tions upon the millions of tons of coal available. The culm will also fulfil another important function: the miners will be able to cut their galleries through it in the assurance that they have a stable and reliable roofing material, free from the possibility of collapse which is ever present when the workings are cut through the crumbling coal itself. If success crowns the simple though efficient scientific methods that are being followed for TROUGH DISCHARGING “ CULM" INTO THE BORE-HOLR, WHENCE IT IS CARRIED TO THE FIKE-ZONE—THE ONLY TRACES OF THE CONFLAGRATION TO BE SEEN ABOVE-GROUND ARR SMALL CLOUDS OF VAPOUR, AS SHOWN IN THE PICTURE. ' From a Photo. 1 ‘aking is truly the most extraordinary task of salvage that has ever been entered upon by fire- ‘ighters, and one that will entail the greatest \-xpenditure of money on record for such a durpose. t Even should they not succeed in quenching ‘he flames themselves, the burning zone will lit all events be surrounded and completely the reclamation of the burning mine, a new era of prosperity will dawn upon the district. The owners have already prepared their plans for the installation of the requisite mining machinery and preparation of the coal for the market, and the instant work once more becomes possible there will be immediate employment for over a- thousand hands.

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AN AMAZING VOYAGE. By Ernest R. SUFFLING. Necessity often forces men to essay seemingly impossible tasks, otherwise it is safe to say that the hero of this exciting narrative would never have dreamt of attempting the foolhardy cruise here described—twelve thousand miles, in a fifty-foot launch, from London to Peru! Owing to the developments which followed the voyage, and for other obvious reasons, the names of the captain and vessel concerned have been altered. I O the average mind the words Pall “yacht” and “pleasure” are usually . ia | synonymous, but that such is not SMeeS| invariably the case in actual prac- =———~ tice the following narrative wil! tend to prove. We are all of us, more or less, the chidren of circumstances, driven hither and thither by Dame Fortune’s fairy wand, but strive as we will the unexpected continually crops up in our lives. Such was the experience of Captain John Bettison, who had for many years held his full “master’s certificate,” and who during his long career had commanded craft of all kinds, from a “ billyboy” schooner to a thousand-ton barque in the nitrate trade. It was from a mishap with the latter that he found himself idling ashore— some time before this narrative opens—with an “endorsed ” certificate. Week followed week, and all too quickly the unfortunate mariner realized that, metaphorically speaking, he was terribly near the rocks, for his last sovereign was reposing in his palm. He must find something to do and that quickly, no matter what it might prove to be. Men of his class, who have for years com- manded, cannot bring themselves to knuckle under and be commanded by others, or he nught have taken more than one opportunity of shipping as mate on small vessels, but the bare thought of such a retrograde step went sadly against the grain and caused him to decline. At length, however, one day in 1895, Captain Bettison heard of a billet that might help him to pass the “twelve months’ knock-off” to which his endorsed certificate condemned him. The berth he was offered was to take out a small steam yacht to Peru. He went to St. Katharine’s Dock, saw the little vessel, hesitated—for she was, indeed, small for the venture—thought the matter over, and finally, reflecting that a bird in the pie is worth two in the poulterer's shop and that beggars must not be choosers, accepted. The Jnca, as she was called, was only fifty- two feet over all, thirteen feet beam, and seven and a half feet depth of hold. Her engines, of six indicated horse-power, were supposed to bowl her along at seven knots; but that was a mere supposition—six, five, and finally four knots were all they succeeded in making her show. And there was the Horn, that terror of all navigators, to negotiate. “But there,” as he said, “come foul, come fair, I’ll take the job on, and trust to luck to see me through.” The crew of the /nca consisted of captain, mate, engineer, two firemen, two seamen, and a cook—eight souls in all. The voyage, commencing from London, where she had been brought from the North, was inauspicious from the first, as the mate was taken ill (or pretended he was) before Dungeness had been passed, and showing no sign of recovery, he was sent back by train when the Zzca reached Plymouth. Orders were given for as much coal to be placed aboard the little vessel as she would hold, and preparations made to try and squeeze forty tons into her little hold, her boats, and on deck, but what was the captain’s surprise on awaking next morning to find that, with the exception of the engineer, the whole of his crew had vanished in the night ! A fresh crew had, therefore, to be secured to take thé place of the runaways, but although scores came and inspected the saucy little craft, with her pretty tapering masts and her bright brass-work, not one would venture on the terribly long voyage of twelve thousand miles, with Cape ‘Horn thrown in. Some who had been round the Cape in large vessels and had had a rough time of it shook their heads deprecatingly, smiling such solemn smiles that others, who might have shipped, thought twice before signing on, and declined. “T ain't taking no picnics,” remarked one, whilst another averred that “ ’Avin’ ’ad a month of ice and blizzards gettin’ round the Horn ina two-thousand-ton barque, I ain’t goin’ to try it in a teacup, not if I’ad the pay o’ the Hemperor of Roosia.” In a day or two the /zca had become a meeting-place for all the loafers of the dock-side, and Captain Bettison, despairing of obtaining a crew in Plymouth, took train to London, where

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16 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. he at last succeeded in obtaining a fresh crew ; but when he returned to Plymouth and showed them the craft, they hung back. Unfortunately the J/nca was moored near a very large ocean- going steamer, which made her look smaller than she really was. “What!” cried one of the new firemen. “Is this the ocean-going steam-yacht? Is this the soft jobat four pound a month with plenty of good tack thrown in? Not me! Not for ten shiners a month and a first- class cook-shop thrown in!” And off he went with his mate, who pretended he took the Juca for the big steamer’s shore-boat. At length two other firemen, by means of a liberal supply of whisky, were induced to see things in a roseate hue, and with pro- mises of more they came aboard after dark, went half-seas- over to their bunks, and by daybreak next morning found themselves bowling along at six knots an hour and out of sight of land. Madeira was the first objective point, but before half the distance to that beau- tiful island had been covered the men were at loggerheads with the officers and tried all manner of ruses to induce the skipper to turn about and land them at some Spanish port. Certainly they had some excuse for un- easiness ; the Jaca got a terrific dusting cross- ing the Bay of Biscay, no one getting a wink of sleep for nearly forty-eight hours, the rolling and pitching of the little vessel in the heavy seas being tremendous. Water was let into the engine-room and an alarm raised that they had sprung a leak, but the “old man” smelt a rat; he was up to the artful little dodges of seamen and swore, sink or swim, that he would keep right ahead for DAVID BAVATERS “CwHAT!' CRIED ONE OF THE NEW FIREMEN, ‘IS THIS THE OCEAN- GOING STEAM-VACHT?’” Funchal. Then they tried sprains, a ricked back, and lumbago, but all to no purpose. Off the Spanish coast the vessel shipped several heavy seas, which found their way into the stokehold and made it very wet, whereupon the men swore the vessel was unseaworthy, averring that she was top-heavy, but in spite of all their tricks the bold skipper held on his course. Madeira was reached at last, but there the best man of the crew, an edu- cated German, de- manded to see the British Consul, and such a tough yarn did he spin the good man that, to avoid being too long de- layed at the first port of call, Captain Bettison deemed it advisable to leave- the German behind, shipping two strap- ping “ Kroo- boys” —niggers from the Grain coast—to take his place, as one would not consent to ship without the other. But before theship left Funchal, - the cook, who had been sent ashore for vegetables, deserted. There was no help for it, so the /nuca proceeded on her voyage, the younger Kroo - boy, Sam, being installed as cook, he being best able, according to the skipper’s judg- ment, to stand the heat of the stifling little galley, as the ship was now approaching the tropics. Sam proved incapable of carrying out his duties. As one of the crew expressed it, “He couldn’t cook nothin’ but water, and that he burnt.” If Sam could not cook, however, he could eat, and he speedily developed an enormous appetite, second only to that of his fellow-countryman “Golia,” as the crew nick- named him from his great size—he stood six feet four and was stoutly built—and enormous strength. Golia had the appetite of three men, and as the captain soon discovered that between

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ae AN AMAZING VOYAGE 17 fh them the pair had the storage capacity of five, circumstances to shoot them down in cold blood % he became alarmed for his supples and took would be nothing but murder. et charge of everything eatable. This did not suit “Tf we don’t settle them, captain, they will am the negroes, who from grumbling at being put us,” put in the engineer, who stood shovel in io on ordinary rations, soon broke into open hand. ria defiance and mutiny, which one night ended in “Give them time to get helpless with drink, Golia seizing an axe and breaking into the store- sir,” advised a fireman, “and then with a . room, whence he took all the comestibles he rush we can overpower them and bind them; could carry, and, with Sam, retreated into the we are seven to two.” « bows of the vessel and refused to do any more Golia now picked up another bottle of work. - whisky, whereupon one of the men in bravado The captain, being roused by the noise, came shouted to him, “Spare us a drop, old man ; on deck to inquire the cause, and on learning _—let_ us drink your health,” upon which the ne what had occurred decided, by the advice of the giant raised the bottle and‘ remarking, ‘* You ad mate, to let the matter rest until the morning. catchee bottle, you hab drink,” threw it to- He therefore retired to rest again. wards the gaping crew, but it struck a rope in When he arose he went forward and found its flight, glanced aside, and fell in a hundred the negroes, armed with axes and long cooks’ fragments at the mate’s feet. hn knives, in the bows quietly discussing the canne! This produced a loud guffaw from the ot meats and fruits they had purloined. Sternly he blacks, who ‘now broached another bottle and asked them what they meant by their conduct. drank more healths, gradually growing wilder “ We no starve on ship, savee ! We no like dis ship; we want go ‘shore in Freetown. S’pose you not go us ’shore, we break ship all bits ; we dead all mans!” This startling reply from Sam, to which Golia added, flourishing his axe in his ponderous fist :— « You no go us ’shore I break ‘go quick’ (engine) all samee dis, savee!” and he held up a mutton-tin hacked in two. Captain and mate armed them- selves with revolvers ; whilst the crew, some with coal shovels and others with hatchets, went forward and waited around, ready to take their cue from the skipper, who stood by the cabin hatch irresolute, wondering what, short of shedding blood, would be best to do. Shortly after, Golia, raising a bottle of whisky to his lips, and grinning, so as to show his white teeth, remarked, ere he drank :— * You good helf, cap'n! All you fool men, good helf !” ‘Then he handed the bottle to his comrade, and between them they finished the contents, while the skipper and mate consulted upon what course to take. *€ Shoot the black rascals where they stand,” advised the mate ; but the skipper pointed out that the men had done no act ey. . Caeeat sHorata x0 oF dangering | life, and under the THE CREW, SOME WIEN COAG SO gin CUE FROM THE SKIFFEE xx—3. Lam RP os HERS WITH HATCHETS, WENT sORWARD,

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18 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. in their demeanour and gesticulations, shouting and laughing most uproariously. “What do you say to a rush now, skipper?” queried the engineer. “Wait a bit,” replied the captain, “let them start on any of us, and I will shoot them as 1 would mad dogs; wait a bit.” Presently, bellowing like bulls, the blacks began to stagger aft, flourishing their axes and with the naked knives stuck in their waist-belts. They staggered aft to the engine-room skylight with no apparent decided object; but all of a suddenly Golia lifted his axe and deliberately smashed the glass, shouting at the same time :— “Now me break ‘go-quick’ all little piece!” The moment for action had come. ‘There was a rush of the white men, a clash of weapons, pistol-shots, curses and groans, and in a few seconds the two burly negroes were overpowered and disarmed. Golia the captain had shot through the shoulder, while a fireman had given him an awful smash on his thick skull with a shovel. Sam fared little better, one of his fingers being taken off by a bullet and a long gash made in his forearm by an axe. The engineer had a nasty wound in his hand and a knife-cut, while the captain received a pair of black eyes and a bruised nose, either by a blow from Golia or from falling upon the corner of a seat round the engine-room skylight. The mutinous blacks were kept securely bound, and a day or two after landed a couple of miles from Bathurst, Gambia, at their own request: The captain had proposed to have them tried at Bathurst for mutiny, but not wishing to waste time, and believing they had been punished sufficiently already, he simply put them ashore in a creek near the town. At Bissagos Islands, where the /xca touched, Captain Bettison persuaded a Portuguese to ship as cook, but he proved no better than Sam; he simply spoilt the food, and was dirty to boot. He did not lead a happy life—indeed, he might as well have lived in the days of the Inquisition, for when seamen decide to make it warm for a messmate they can all but drive a man insane, and in this case, when the /uca arrived at Pernambuco after a long stretch across the Atlantic, which is here at its narrowest, the wretched “ Dago” was so near being distraught that on reaching the harbour he waited till dark, dropped overboard, and swam ashore, judging the sharks to be more merciful than his messmates. He landed safely, and was seen by the skipper in the market-place next day. The course was now coastwise down the east side of the South American continent, but just before reaching Rio Grande do Sul something was found radically wrong with either the shaft or the propeller. The /zca was therefore run ashore on a nice, sandy beach in a kind of lagoon, or land-locked inlet, so that her keel might be cleaned and the damaged machinery set right. Whilst the crew removed the bed of marine growths which had accumulated thickly upon her keel the engineer and officers attended to the running gear. The propeller had worked loose ; probably the copper of the screw had set up a chemical action with the steel shaft, which, assisted by the salt water, had corroded the bearings and caused the looseness and clatter. In a few days matters were put right and a holiday indulged in. Although Bahia, Pernam- buco, Victoria, and Rio Janeiro had been made places of call, yet no one but the mate had been allowed ashore, as the captain knew deser- tion would inevitably take place if leave were given. Supplies were brought out in boats to the Jaca, moored a mile from the quay, the captain taking great pains to speak of the dangerous sharks which infested these waters, pointing out many real and imaginary fins to prove his assertion. Nevertheless he had to sleep on deck all the time to prevent any of the crew eloping with one of the two small boats with which the /aca was provided. Even then his sleep was but a light one, for one or two of the men would have thought liberty easily purchased at the price of his death, The holiday in the solitary spot did everyone good, and for three days nobody did any work, simply lolling about and basking in the balmy air and hot sunshine. ‘This greatly pleased the men, and when a fresh start was made south- ward something like cheerfulness reigned on hoard. The little vessel was now making six knots an hour instead of four, as she had lately been doing, and there seemed every probability of their reaching Monte Video in smart time, when they ran into a violent gale. ‘They lost the upper part of the foremast, the propeller again worked loose, some of the boiler tubes began to leak, and the /vca finally reached Monte Video with only one day’s coal aboard, merely the sweepings of the bunkers, after a week of tribulation and damage, everyone being tired out with sleepless nights and anxiety, for at one time it appeared as if the voyage must end in the dismal depths of Davy Jones’s locker rather than in Peru. A week spent at Monte Video resulted in the vessel being put in trim once more. She was re-coaled, re-provisioned, and everything ready for a start when Jan Stensson, a Norwegian hand, was drowned in trying to swim to the (~~, pg .

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AN AMAZING VOYAGE. 19 shore, which looked very tempting to him after the perils lately undergone. long search in the low quarters of the city, found two vagabond Peruvian sailors who were anxious to return to their native country, and these were about to be brought aboard to strengthen the crew when a quarrel arose among their friends, who attempted to prevent their embarking. During the fracas the mate was stabbed in the head and face, but was rescued and rowed aboard by the new men. As it afterwards turned out the hospital, rather than the Jnca, should have been his abode, for within three days of sailing he be- came delirious and died, raving in his last agonies at those who prevented his leaping overboard. His body was landed at Sandy Point and reverently buried, Captain Bettison reading the burial service amid a deluge of rain. This inci- dent cast a gloom on the ship’s company, and, to make matters worse, for some rea- son great discontent and bad temper began to be manifested towards the engineer-and firemen by the other members of the crew. Probably it arose from the frequent break- down of the machinery, which necessitated assistance from the crew at all hours, both day and night. Finally the deck-hands came to blows with the firemen, but matters were smoothed down by Captain Bettison, who promised to put into Valdivia for repairs, that being the nearest port available for the purpose. Every day brought them from seventy to one hundred miles nearer Cape Vergenes, the entrance to Magellan Strait, and every day Captain Bettison’s anxiety increased. His mind was ever tortured with the thought, “Shall we be able to get through the Straits, or shall we have to run four hundred miles south-west and round the Horn?”* ‘True, they were in the middle of summer, the month being January, but even at that period the wind can blow great guns, and terrible seas rise. At last, however, the captain’s sleepless nights were at an end, for in beautiful weather Cape Vergenes was rounded * The distance from Cape de las Vergenes to Cape Pillar through Magellan Straits is four hundred and fifty miles, but round the Island of Cape Horn to Cape Pillar is one thousand and filty, and rough water at that. Hence the captain's anxiety.—Tua AUTHOR. The mate, after a . A SKETCH BY THF AUTHOR, GIVING AN IDEA OF THE SIZE OF THE “INCA” AS COMPARED WITH A WHALE. and the little Jaca ploughed her way through the calm waters of mighty Magellan, an inland sea four hundred and fifty miles in length, the crew posting their letters in the well-known “Cask” post-office en route. To those aboard the /nca the passage was, as the skipper put it, “like a run through a river im Paradise, while to have rounded the Horn would have been perdition to all aboard.” The Straits were passed, Terra del Fuego left astern, and all appeared to be going well when a bad quarrel arose between the lately-appointed mate, a Uruguayan, and the engineer; the three seamen and cook (a Brazilian from Bahia) siding with the former and the firemen and second engineer with the latter. The cause of the trouble was a most absurd matter, — relating to the shar- ing of a small keg of tobacco purchased at Monte Video. The dispute grew so fierce that, in spite of the skipper’s en- deavours to put Matters right, a fight took place on deck. The engineer, a fireman and the cook received nasty cuts from sheath-knives, while two of the crew were seriously scalded with boiling water which the engineer, who was a weak little man, used instead of a lethal weapon. The engineer’s wound was a stab right through the shoulder, which necessitated his keeping in bed, as blood-poisoning supervened. This occurred off Queen Adelaide’s Islands. With the engineer out of action the machinery gave continual trouble, and the speed dwindled to a bare four knots, and at times not that. So they crawled day by day northward along the Thousand Isles of the west coast, the only incident worthy of note being a very strange one. In the middle of a starry night the little ship was twice nearly lifted out of the water by some marine monster. The first heave caused all who were below to rush on deck, everyone imagining they had run on a rock. Nothing, however, could be seen, and after sounding the well, those not on duty were about to retire when a second upheaval took place. This time the after-part of the /nca was completely lifted from the water, and as she hung in the air she lurched so violently to port that every one was thrown

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20 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. down, and for the moment all on board expected the vessel was about to turn turtle. Then came a gliding motion, her fore-deck was butied deep in the sea, and with a vibrating thump her stern again came down, sending a deluge of water aloft from both quarters from the impact. The terrified men saw a great black mass go rolling away astern, most of them taking it to be a whale. The little vessel was none the worse for ~ her game of see-saw, but no one went below till daybreak for fear of a repetition of the marine earthquake. Valdivia was reached, and the engineer and fireman taken ashore to the hospital. In vain the skipper sought another engineer, and, ‘although he waited a whole week, he had to * leave without one. Fortunately, the south-east | trade winds were favourable, and it was accord- ‘ ingly decided to sail the remaining two thousand miles to Callao, which was safely accomplished ‘in thirty-one days, and the Zuca delivered into the agent’s hands after a voyage of two hundred “HER FORE-DECK WAS BUKIKD DEEP IN THK SEA." and nineteen days from Plymouth, during which time, from anxiety, want of rest, poor food, and other causes, the captain avers he lost thirty-two pounds in weight and aged five years. . But, although his destination was reached and the ship given up, his troubles were not by any means over. The agents ad- vanced a certain sum of money to pay off his crew, but refused an advance either for himself or to pay his passage home, as the agreement stated that he was to be paid by the owners in Lon- don. Not having any money of his own, Captain Bettison was obliged to sell his chronometer, sextant, and other private be- longings to raise enough cash to pay his fare home. He was fortunate in having a passage given him in a brig bound to Coquimbo, acting as mate for the voyage; thence he paid his passage to Liverpool on a barque, landing after eleven months’ absence. On arrival in Lon- don he discovered to his dismay that during his long absence the owner for whom he had taken the Jaca out to Callao had become bankrupt ! He therefore received no remuneration for his long voyage, and, as the owner could not pay the bills incurred by the captain on his behalf at the various ports, the unfortunate skipper found himself, after all the hardships and dangers he had endured, some forty pounds out of pocket ! The moral, of course, is that when such a hazardous voyage has to be undertaken, it is well to first count the cost in health, anxiety, and money; otherwise, like Captain John Bettison, one may lose the first, receive far too much of the second, and never see any of the last. x

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Derelict Railways. By H. G. ARCHER. It will come as a distinct surprise to the majority of our readers to know that in prosperous England, with its teeming population and well-ordered railway system, there exist at the present day a number of lines which have been abandoned and well-nigh forgotten. Costly bridges and engineering works, stations, tracks, and equipment have in some cases been left just as they were when the unfortunate companies “shut down.” In this article Mr. Archer tells the romantic story of several of these deserted railways, illustrating his description with some striking photographs. T a sitting of the Irish Railway Com- mission a short time ago a gentleman resident in the locality gave some extraordinary evidence with reference to the proposed restoration of the now derelict line of railway known as the Birr and Parsonstown Railway. He told a remark- able story about the disappearance of the old line, which was constructed about 1868 and was twelve miles long, running from Birr to Parsons- town or Portumna Bridge, on the River Shannon. It was controlled by the Great Southern and Western Company, the most important railway in Ireland, with whose system it connected at Birr, and was worked by them under an agreement, the capital having been raised by local subscriptions, and also by loans from the Board of Works and the Great Southern and Western Company. ‘The line did not pay the latter, and when their lease expired in 1878 they declined to renew it, and took away their rolling-stock. The Loan Commissioners then exercised their rights over the idle railway. For five years, from 1878 to 1883, they maintained a staff of milesmen to guard the line, and houses were occupied by them along the route. Never- theless, people began to steal the wire and wooden fences, but there was not much damage done. For some time the property was assessed for rates by the county authorities, and the rates got into arrears because nobody would pay them. The county collector accordingly seized some of the rails and tried to sell them by auction, but nobody would buy them. More serious pilfering next set in ; signal-posts, sleepers, station fittings. etc., began to disappear with alarming rapidity. There was an important iron-girder bridge of several spans to carry the line over the River Broisna, and an enterprising individual actually arrived with cranes and other appli- ances, intending to loot the metal girders, but he was foiled in the attempt. One account states that what saved the structure was the presence of a police-station close by, the sergeant in charge of which took it upon himself to forbid the removal of the bridge. Another account, however, attributes the escape of the bridge to the action of a neighbouring farmer, who had found the fabric very useful in driving his cattle to and from meadows on opposite sides of the stream. This worthy marshalled his men to drive off the forces of the would-be despoiler, and after a fierce fight won the day. The police arrested some people who were supposed to be taking possession of other parts of the line, but as no owner of the property appeared the prosecution fell through, and the police were told not to take any further proceedings. After this, as might have been expected, the line disappeared with amazing rapidity. The station at Portumna Bridge is said to have completely vanished, as though swallowed up by an earthquake, in the course of a single night. ‘The bed of the railway is there, but the equipment has gone—rails, sleepers, points, signals, signal-cabins, telegraphs, water cranes, turntables, gates, bridges, and station buildings ; and the district, the inhabitants of which are believed to have contributed £60,000 to the cost of the line (the exact amount cannot be stated, for the books have likewise disappeared), has no other means of communication. The Chairman of the Commission rubbed his eyes over the strange story, and asked if the shareholders were all asleep, that they took no action to bring this barefaced theft of their property before the Government or some public authority. The witness’s explanation of their supine conduct was that they thought there might be some liabilities for the railway, and that they would be’ held financially responsible if they moved in the matter. Doubtless, most people merely shrugged their shoulders on reading the foregoing evidence, and thought “how very Irish” it all sounded. Surely such an extraordinary succession of incidents could happen only in Ireland! But, curious to relate, the fate of the Birr and Parsonstown Railway is not an isolated instance of a railway in ruins, There are dere- lict railways even in prosperous, well-ordered England, with equally strange stories connected with them, and presenting even more curious spectacles in the way of picturesque disrepair.

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22 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. British railway annals furnish few odder incidents than the history of the abandoned Shrewsbury Potteries and North Wales Rail- way, concerning which the Board of Trade returns state, ‘There are neither directors nor officers appointed to this company, which is not in working.” This ill-fated concern was more important in every respect than the Irish derelict railway, for it was once a_ solidly- engineered and_ perfectly-equipped railroad, comprising nearly twenty-eight miles of route, inclusive of two branches and fifteen stations, while the enterprise was financed by two million pounds of paid-up capital. Moreover, the Shropshire railway had its own engines, rolling- stock, and working staff. But owing to the fact that the line has been shut down and utterly abandoned for a quarter of a century, and that the poor little ruined railway only twice touches any frequented artery of traffic, few but the natives of the rural district which it traverses are acquainted with its existence, and fewer -still know anything about its story. In the year 1862 a company was formed to build a railway for the purpose of connecting the Staffordshire pottery district with the coast of North Wales, via Stoke, Market Drayton, Shrewsbury, Llanymynech, Bala, Festiniog, and Portmadoc. The company hoped to carry a large mineral traffic by tapping many important slate and stone quarries on the line of route, and also to attract a fair share of the pleasure traffic —— : THE DESERTED ‘ POTTERIES” RAILWAY—THE FINE IRON BRIDGE ACROSS THE SEVERN AT SHRAWARDINE, From a Photo. from the Midlands to the Welsh coast, between which points it would, indeed, have furnished a shorter and more direct communication than exists even at the present day. How- ever, the scheme was strenuously opposed by both the Great Western and London and North-Western Companies, with the result that the company only succeeded in construct- ing a line from Shrewsbury to Llanymynech, eighteen miles in length, together with an extension from Llanymynech to Llanyblodwel, two and a half miles long, and a branch from a half-way station, named Kinnerley, to a mining village called Criggion, at the foot of the lovely Breidden Hills, six miles long. The main line, extension, and branch were all opened for passenger and mineral traffic in the autumn of 1866. ’ The Shrewsbury terminus was some distance away from the Great Western and North- Western joint station in the town, so a spur line was laid down to connect with the joint rail- ways at a point about half a mile east of Shrewsbury general station. At Llanymynech the western terminus of the little railway was located alongside the Cambrian Company's station on their main line from Oswestry to Aberystwyth. The construction of the main line, so-called, entailed some heavy engineering works in the shape of cuttings and banks, and near a village named Shrawardine the River Severn was crossed by means of a fine cast-iron girder viaduct of “six spans, which would not dis- ‘grace the North- ‘Western main line. There were seven intermedi- ‘ate stations— namely, Red Hill, Hanwood Road, Cross Gates or Ford, Shrawar- dine, _ Nesscliff, ‘Kinnerley Junc- tion, and Maes- brook. The line was laid with a double track, one of which was, however, subse- quently removed. The branch from Kinnerley to Criggion was single line, with three intermedi- ate stations—

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Ah DERELICT RAILWAYS. 23 Melverley, Crewe Green, and Llandrinis Road, while near Melverley the Severn was again crossed by means of a long timber trestle viaduct. Throughout its length the “ Potteries ” Railway, as it came to be called, was thoroughly well equipped with engine-houses, turntables, signals, etc., while the stations were furnished with double platforms, well-built offices, and ample siding accommodation. The train service consisted of six trains per day in either direction, and the company adopted what was then the liberal policy of conveying third-class passengers in “covered coaches ” by all trains. From 1866 to 1869 the working of the line resulted in an annual loss; but from Reh the bailiffs, and trains were run with the “men in possession ” seated in first-class compartments until the creditors were appeased. As there was no money forthcoming to spend on maintenance and repairs the permanent way got into a very bad state, and the climax was reached on June 21st, 1880, when an officer of the Board of Trade paid a surprise visit to the railway, and as a result of his examination ordered it to be closed for all traffic forthwith, to the astonishment and dismay of the residents near the line, who woke up one morning to find themselves suddenly cut off from communica- tion with the outside world. The unfortunate little railway, which up till this date had been From a\ 1870 to 1872, when the company was carrying seventy thousand passengers and one hundred thousand tons of goods traffic per year, there was a small profit. In 1873, however, the company experienced a heavy loss, which went on increasing with each succeeding year. Lack of funds prevented the directors from proceed- ing with the Shrewsbury to Stoke section, and the powers for extending the line across the Welsh hills to Portmadoc lapsed. A receiver was appointed and desperate efforts were made to retrieve the situation by practising rigid economy; one of the main-line tracks was removed and the staff was reduced to a minimum. On several occasions the property was seized by KINNERLEY, THE “CLAPHAM JUNCTION” OF THK ABANUONED RAILWAY. (Photo, the subject of twelve Acts of Parliament and had swallowed up ‘the whole of the subscribed capital, amounting to nearly two million pounds, has remained closed ever since. Except for the sale of the locomotives and rolling-stock a few years later, no steps ever appear to have been taken to dispose of the remainder of the plant or to sell the land. Con- sequently, since 1880, the rails, chairs, sleepers, stations, bridges, signals, interlocking frames, turntables, water-cranes, level-crossing gates, and so forth have been rotting and rusting away. The permanent works have suffered terrible dilapidations. Some of the embank- ments have slipped away in places, leaving the

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24 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Ny, lhe /\ i hi " froma) LLANYMYNECH STATION—-NOTICE THE LOADED TRUCK STILL IN POSITION ON THE RAILS. (Photo. rails suspended in mid-air; all the cuttings | with undergrowth that, when viewed from an have become choked up with dense forests of | eminence, it looks like an untidy hedgerow bramble-bushes ; and, generally speaking, the sprawling across the country. A walk over the whole extent of the track is so thickly covered deserted railway is a unique experience. One still comes across half-obliterated = notice - boards threatening the trespasser and warning him to beware of ghostly trains. No cultivated eye is necessary to appreciate the pathos and romance which are suggested by the curious scenes of pic- turesque disrepair. Several fruitless attempts have been made from time to time to reopen the abandoned railway. On one of these occasions the directors invited a party to travel over the line. An engine was borrowed, and the guests were accommodated in two old ram- shackle trucks, furnished with arm-chairs. It was a lovely summer’s day, and the party thoroughly enjoyed their leisurely progress along the half-hidden rails through THE STATION AT CROSS GATES, SHOWING THE SIGNAL:ERAME CHOKED WITH WEEDS AND the beautiful Border coun- From a) BRAMBLES. [Photo. try. It is very doubtful, how- Digtizea ty Google L@

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DERELICT RAILWAYS. 25 : 4 H i I \ IN PLACES THE EMBANKBENTS HAVE WEEN WASHED COMPLETELY AWAY, LEAVING THE TRACK SUSPENDED IN MID-AIR. From a Photo. ever, if the railway will ever arise from its this specimen is that it leads to an aban- ; ashes. doned town. The history of the West Somer- = Of late, the ravages of neglect have become setshire Mineral Railway is the story of the é much more marked, and before long this erst- decay of a once flourishing industry. while busy little rail- - way will be repre- ! ee ES ysented only by ves tiges of the cuttings, ‘banks, and bed on which the rusting rails and rotting sleepers rest. The Llanyblod- wel extension alone has escaped the general debacle. x Some time back the Cambrian Company ‘ took over some por- a tion of that section, and about two years ago the remainder was incorporated in a new light railway through the Tanat Valley. Another railway in ; ruins is met with in t West Somersetshire, ee and what lends an additional: tinge of ae romantic interest to ar THE ear CROSSINGS HALF-O8L ETRRATED NOTICES, STILL WARN THE TRA’ Vol. xx—4, a Digitized by (OO « ELLER TO BEWAR (PA

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26 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. A few miles inland from the Somersetshire shore of the “Severn Sea” are the Brendon Hills, a range several miles long and rising to an altitude of one thousand two hundred and fifty feet above sea-level. These hills well repay a visit by reason of their bold, wild scenery and the magnificent views which they command. Exactly fifty years ago rich iron mines were discovered on the summit of the range, and a company was formed to work them. The company also constructed a railway to connect the new mining centre with the little port of Watchet, where the ore was shipped to Cardiff for the pur- pose of being smelted inthe Ebbw Vale. The railway, eleven and a half miles in length, was celebrated for a re- markable engineer- ing undertaking. From Watchet it runs through a series of lovely val- leys for a distance of seven miles until it comes to a ham- let, called Combe Row, at the foot of the hills. From here the line boldly ascends at one sweep to the sum- mit of the range by means of an_ in- clined plane, nearly a mile long and constructed with a uniform gradient of one in four, which is as steep as the cog-wheel railway up Mount Pilatus, in Switzerland. From the top of the inclined plane the railway continues on the level for a distance of three and a half miles along the ridge of the hills. ‘The inclined plane, which in places carves its way through rock cuttings, of course had to be worked by means of ropes and stationary engines ; elsewhere the traffic was conducted in the ordinary manner. The head-quarters of the mining industry were situated at the easternmost end of the summit of the hills, and close to the top of the inclined plane. Here a small town sprang up to house the hundreds of miners who, with their families, flocked to the new El Dorado. Brendon, as the little town was called, soon boasted shops, From a} COMBE KOW STATION, inns, and places of worship. For many years the works proved very prosperous. ‘The railway, originally intended solely for mineral traffic, took to running passenger trains as well, and orthodox stations were opened at Watchet, Washford, Roadwater, and Combe Row, in the valleys, and at Brendon and Gupworthy, on the top of the hills. In addition to the mining and rural popu- lation carried, visitors from Minehead, Dunster, Blue Anchor, Watchet, and towns farther afield patronized the line in large numbers during the summer months for the sake of the trip to the | | ON THE DEKEILICT WEST SOMERSET RAILWAY. (Photo. beautiful Brendons. About a score of years ago all this industrial activity was, however, brought to naught by the discovery that the same kind of ore could be procured cheaper from Spain. Accordingly the mines shut down, and there ensued a disastrous exodus of workers from the locality. The railway, though, continued to work intermittently, mainly for the conveyance of summer tourists, until November, 1898, when it, too, was closed for all traffic, and the Ebbw Vale Steel, Iron, and Coal Company, Limited, which formerly worked it, removed their private rolling-stock. This derelict railway is in a much better state of repair than the abandoned lines already described. The track is well ballasted and

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——"—S————. DERELICT RAI LWAYS. comparatively (UT free from weeds, while the rusty rails are firmly “chaired” to the sleepers and in perfect align- ment. The switches and points are in good working order. Thestone- built station offices have not suffered a whit, and the name- boards are, still legible at a con- siderable dis- -+ _ tance. The won- * derful inclined plane, however, has rather gone to rack and ruin. Here the double track is almost covered with spongy moss, the permanent way shows signs of “creeping” down - hill, and most of the rol- EE ear Jers on WhICh ux woxnmuruL INCLINED FLAKE Us wcH THAINS CnD ro BE MA the endless ‘al oe ULED BY (Phot. From a) AN ABANDONED SIGNAL-CABIN AND ENGINE-HOUSE, WITH AN OLD C 27 ropes ran are either missing or broken. The site of the erstwhile flou- rishing village of Brendon is re- presented by a few gaunt stone chimneys, a stray cluster of roof- less cottages, 2 dilapidated Dis- senting chapel, a ghostly railway station, and one fair-sized shop, which serves the needs of the scattered com- munity living on the Brendon Hills. But for many years the deserted village was left just as it was when the miners occupied it, and as such presented an ex- traordinary sight — silent, grass- grown streets of closed houses, shops, inns, ————————=—— ef

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28 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. = F = pa steats. AT WATCHET, SOMERS! From a Photo, THE ABANDONED STATION and places of worship. It was only com- paratively recently that the buildings were razed, and the materials of which they were composed sold and carried away. To-day the most tangible relic is found at the junction of the roads just outside the village—a quaint, square, plain building, over the porched entrance to which is the word ‘“ Beulah,” and the date of erection, 1861. This is one of the little chapels built for the miners. No attempt has been made to preserve it from decay, and not so long ago the pedestrian could stroll in and find the sunlight streaming through the trans- lucent windows and their borders of coloured glass, making the in- terior grotesquely gay. The pulpit and pews then re- mained,and many of the cards affixed to the book-rests and in- scribed with the seat-holders’ names were yet to be seen. An old inhabi- tant of the de- serted village was found, and he told the writer that Brendon was for- / 01) ET, WITH OFFICES merly the most go-ahead place in that part of the country. “ We had six hundred inhabitants, a church, two chapels, an inn, a cricket club, a brass band, and excursions to Bristol and Lon- don,” he told me, proudly. Quite recently failure to main- tain its perma- nent®way led to the closing of a little railway in Central Wales. The Mawddwy Railway Com- pany isa humble concern, for its line is only seven miles in length, and at the time it shut down its rolling-stock consisted of but two engines and four passenger vehicles. This railway con- nects the not unimportant town of Mawddwy with the Cambrian system at Cemmes Road, there being intermediate stations at the villages of Mallwyd, Aberangell, and Cemmes. Opened in 1866, the line continued to work until two years ago, when the ominous notice, “Service Discontinued During Repairs,” appeared in “ Bradshaw.” No signs of the reopening of the (Photo, ; ' |

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DERELICT RAILWAYS. ‘ 29 line are as yet forthcoming, and “ Bradshaw” has ceased to men- tion its existence. The company’s Passenger carriages—obsolete vehicles purchased from the North-Western—had the reputa- tion of being the most antique rolling-stock in the kingdom. To travel in them was to realize how our grandfathers journeyed by rail during the early days of steam loco- motion. They formed a veritable back-page of railway history, and furnished a most interesting object- lesson to students of railway affairs concerning the evolution of the modern, sumptuously - appointed bogie corridor carriage from the original “cribbed, cabined, and~ confined” type of vehicle, which clung to the architecture of the stage coach. In the building up of our rail- way system it is not surprising to find that numerous trivial lengths of line should have been abandoned, as, for example, loop-lines found to be unnecessary, and sections which for engineering reasons it was found advisable to supersede by better-graded or straighter deviations. In Edinburgh there is a derelict tailway tunnel, nearly a mile long, which has | PRACTICALLY ALL THAT 1S LEFT OF THE ABANDONED TOWN OF WRENDON. From.a Phate. A SPECIMEN OF THE ROLLING-STOCK OF THE MAWDDWY RAILWAY, WHICH WAS CLUSED ABOUT TWO YEARS AGO, From a Photo. lent by the 1. & N.W, Railway Company. been put to the strange use of growing mush- rooms. The portals are furnished with doors, and one line of rails has been removed to make room for the beds, but the other track remains to facilitate the dispatch of the mush- rooms in trucks. Lastly, history records an even more remark- able case than that of a stolen railway like the Birr and Portumna — a whole line going astray while in transit! The length of the latter was, or rather was to be, four miles, and there were several engines and hundreds of wagons. ‘The rails, which amounted to some hun- dreds of tons, were to have been used in the construc- tion of a quay on the Danish coast, where the contractor was prepared to set to work as soon as they arrived. The whole consignment of rails, sleepers, engines, and roll- ing-stock was taken by mis- take to another port, over a hundred miles distant, where the captain, finding no consignee, refused to leave it, and carried the embryo railway back to England.

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The Vanished Bride. THE STORY OF A SIX YEARS’ SEARCH. By H. M. VeRNon. An extraordinary real-life romance of love and jealousy, having its opening scenes in the World's Fair, Chicago, its central episodes in the picturesque Orient, and its final dramatic “curtain” in the Bellevue Hospital, New York, where the husband who for six long years had sought his missing girl-wife— abducted and sent into captivity by unscrupulous relatives—once again claimed his bride. N 1895, as the majority of Wipe Wor b readers are aware, the City of Chicago, U.S.A., held an Inter- } national Exposition popularly known as the “ World’s Fair,” which up to that time was perhaps the biggest show of the kind ever seen. Visitors from all parts of the civilized globe flocked to the “ White City,” and European countries vied with each other in an endeavour to make their exhibit the largest and most comprehensive. The amusements at the Fair were of great variety, the most popular being undoubtedly to be found in that section known as the “ Midway.” Here picturesque Orientalism held full sway. Arabs, Turks, Kurds, Greeks, and people of many other nationalities elbowed one another, and elephants, camels, and donkeys passed to and fro laden with happy children and often older staid persons who were enjoying the questionable delights of a ride. The sons and daughters of Eastern lands were dressed in their native costumes, and the scene was a perfect kaleidoscope of colour. Here, in charge of a section of the Turkish exhibit, was a man who in his native land was known as Ibrahim. He was a keen, intelligent fellow, master of several languages, and very popular among the officials of the Fair and the representatives of the other exhibits in the “Midway.” ‘Ihe Americans called him “ Mr. Braham,” a liberty which he good-naturedly permitted. He was a proud man, of great stature, and very handsome. Ibrahim had visited America before on business for the ‘Turkish Government, and was in every respect a cultured man of the world. One day, towards the close of the exhibition, an elderly gentleman, accompanied by a pretty young girl of eighteen, his daughter; made their way through the dense crowds towards the Turkish kiosk. After having examined many of the exhibits and made some few purchases the lady and gentleman seated themselves in the “coffee-shop” and called for cups of the delicious Turkish coffee. Suddenly the servants, saluting respectfully, made way for a gorgeously- attired individual who had just come in. It was “Mr. Braham,” in all the glory of Turkish gala attire. The young girl lifted her eyes and beheld the romantic figure of the handsome Turk. He also noticed the shy girl, and, clapping his hands, ordered that more coffee and cakes should be served. He spoke a few words to the girl’s father, then, bowing again, went on his way. The elderly gentleman and his daughter soon left the exhibition grounds and made their way to the Palmer House, the hotel at which they were living. The next day another visit was paid to the exhibition, and somchow the girl could not resist a return to the coffee-shop. A day or two later the gentleman, who was Mr. Ben A. Winston, a prosperous distiller of Louisville, Kentucky, received a telegram calling him home on business. His daughter, Miss Katherine, would not hear of returning with him—at least, not just then—and being an only child and much spoilt, she had her way, and so remained in Chicago. American girls have far more freedom than their English cousins, and generally scorn the attentions of a chaperon. After Mr. Winston's return to Louisville, Miss Katherine paid a daily visit to the Fair, and also to the Turkish coffee shop, for somehow she could not keep the tall figure of the handsome Turk out of her mind. They met repeatedly, and it was clearly dis- cernible that the impressionable girl had fallen violently in love with “Mr. Braham.” That gentleman, to do him justice, although also much enamoured of the pretty young girl, tried not only to keep out of her way, but made several attempts to persuade Miss Winston to go back tou her home. This continued for some days. ‘he terrible “cold storage” fire, which occurred in the Fair grounds and which caused the loss of many firemen’s lives, will be remembered. ‘The day following this (for the catastrophe occurred at night) there was a sudden cry of “Fire!” and only the presence

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THE VANISHED BRIDE. 31 of mind of the officials prevented a terrible calamity. Miss Winston was seated on a bench near the bandstand when the surging, terror- stricken crowd, fleeing from danger, came toward her. She would undoubtedly have been knocked down and trampled to death had not a tall man in Turkish dress rushed from some- where close at hand and, lifting her bodily above his head, carried her safely to—the Turkish coffee-shop. Needless to say, it was Ibrahim, and his rescue of Miss Winston was the climax of their romance, for both recognised the fact that they were desperately in love with each other. Ibrahim proposed to the girl there and then. He told her of his family, which consisted of two sisters and his mother, and swore that if she would accept him as her husband he would abjure his religion and embrace the Christian faith. Blushingly the happy girl gave her con- sent, and forthwith the pair went to the office of Mr. Oscar Mandel, a Justice of the Peace, and were there married. Ibrahim parted from his bride at once, sending her to her hotel; for they had arranged between them that he was not to claim her until he had joined the Church. And now “ Mrs. Ibrahim” did a foolish thing. Her husband had told her to write to her father—her mother was dead—and tell him all about it, but this, for some inexplicable reason, she did not do. Possibly she feared Mr. Winston’s displeasure; anyway, the fact re- mains that she left her parent in ignorance of her marriage. She did, however, go to Louis- ville on the following day, telling her husband that she would return to him after seeing her father. Ibrahim carried out his part of the programme to the letter, and corresponded regularly with his wife, always in the belief that she had informed her father of their marriage. But, as time went on and he received no word from that gentleman, he came to the conclusion that insult was intended, and his natural high spirit asserted itself. The Fair being over, he attended to his remaining duties and then travelled to Louisville with the intention of interviewing Mr. Winston. His wife met him at the station and. informed him that her father had gone to California, not to return for some weeks. Ibrahim told her that the time had come when he must go back to his own country, and the girl unhesitatingly replied that she was ready to accompany him anywhere. Ibrahim accordingly left a long letter for his wife’s father, and the two journeyed to New York, sailing from there to England, and thence by way of Marseilles to Egypt and Constantinople. Arrived at her husband’s home in the Turkish capital, the girl, whose love had prompted her to deceive her father, was thrown almost at once into a vortex of trouble, from which she was only rescued after a lapse of six long, weary years. Ibrahim’s mother, sisters, and other relatives could not forgive her for having been instrumental in causing Ibrahim’s desertion from the Moslem faith, and they did their best in secret to make her life miserable. Her husband, grasping the situation, thought—manlike—that if left alone with his people for a time he might win them over, and to this end he sent his young bride, THE STREET IN PORT SAID WHERE MRS, IBRAHIM MET THE PRETENDED MESSENGER, From a Photo,

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32 : THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. in the care of two women servants and a eunuch, to the home of a married sister at Port Said. Arrived here, the American girl was treated with'a modicum of kindness, and for a few days all went well, the girl living in the assurance that she would soon be with her husband again. She spoke not a word which could be understood by her new friends, and spent most of her time in the cosmopolitan quarter of the town, where she could at least now and then hear her mother tongue, or French, which she spoke fluently. Katherine had been in Port Said just ten days, when one morning, while taking a walk in the Place de Lesseps, she was approached by a young man in Arab costume, who, speaking in French, informed her that her husband had arrived, and was now at his (the speaker’s) house. ‘The girl joyfully went with her guide and was taken toa house, the street entrance of which was occupied by a general store. Without the least suspicion Mrs. Ibrahim followed the young man into and through the shop, up a flight of stairs, into a mag- nificently-furnished room. She was told that her husband would be in pre- sently, and was given the usual cup of coffee. Almost at once, after partaking of it, she fell into a drowsy slumber, and although _ perfectly cognizant of all that hap- pened about her, she was unable to move hand or foot, her tongue, moreover, refusing to act. She was aware that several persons now came into the room ; there was a_ babel of tongues. ‘Then one voice seemed to give a command, the men in the room retired, and she was left alone with a number of women. She felt them undress her and exchange her European clothes for others ; she felt her hajr being cut; and then, wrapped jn some soft, thick garment, she was laid on a couch in an apartment whence no sound of the streets penetrated. Several. hours later, when the- unfortunate girl regained consciousness, she looked about her, and, by the light of a huge brass brazier, found she was in a small room with lattice-barred windows, and that her dress was that of the ordinary Egyptian girl. Presently the door was unbolted, and an old, bearded Arab, accom- panied by two women and a boy, entered the apartment. ‘The old man’s face was very stern and much weather-beaten, yet instinctively the girl felt that she could trust him. “No harm will come to you,” said the old man, in French, “but you must obey. I am i - \ { ” Decal Feed AD ] : | a | ee st “NO HARM WILL COME TO YOU,’ SAID THE OLD MAN, IN FRENCH, ‘RUT VOU MUST OBRY.'™ taking you away for a time. More I cannot tell you. Be of good spirit.” Mrs. Ibrahim, torn with all kinds of fears, and at a loss to know the meaning of all these mysterious manceuvres, demanded to know why she had been subjected to such treatment and asked to be taken at once to her husband. The old Arab, however, made no answer to eee

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THE VANISHED BRIDE. 33 her indignant outburst, and, after speaking in his Own tongue to the impassive women who had come with him, left the room. The hapless American girl was now taken in charge by the others and, having been wrapped up in a long cloak, was led downstairs through a courtyard at the rear of the house, where several Arabs, mounted on camels, awaited her. Here, in spite of her remonstrance, she was forced to mount a horse, and with an Arab on each side of her the party, led by the old man, rode silently away into the night. Hour after hour the journey continued until the leader called a halt. Food was given to the captive and then, after a short rest, the party went on again. At daybreak they were many miles from Port Said, surrounded on all sides by barren plains of sand. Towards noon another halt was made, this time at a small oasis, and the entire party now lay down for a rest. The old man, approaching Mrs. Ibrahim, who was well-nigh distracted with anxiety as to the fate in store for her, said, ‘‘ You have been quiet ; that is well. You will be treated with all respect and have nothing to fear. I promise you that.” At nightfall the march was continued until nearly midnight, when suddenly two horsemen galloped toward them. After a lengthy talk they left, and the party deployed in another direction. Within an hour or two they arrived at a beautiful spot dotted with trees, among which were sprinkled a number of Arab tents. The girl was led to one of these and left by herself, a guard, however, being posted outside. Now, for several days, Mrs. Ibrahim was left alone, her only company being the two women who had evidently been told off to look after her. One day the old Arab presented himself and, after asking whether she was well, spoke as follows: “You have been given into my charge by persons who are unfriendly towards you, but T have refrained from doing that which I have agreed to do. So long as you act sensibly and find contentment here you will remain among us as a daughter, treated with all respect. Any attempt to act contrary to any orders which may be given for your safe keeping will bring serious results. Be of good cheer until such time as Allah, in his great goodness, may decree your return to your people. I, Sheikh Izrim, have spoken.” From this time onward the captive was allowed to come and go as she chose—always, however, accompanied by one or more of the Arab women. The camp consisted of some thirty souls—men, women, and children—a dozen camels, horses, and a few dogs. Every day the male members of the band, mounted on camels, would start off early and remain Vol. xx.—6. gone until late in the afternoon, or else would sleep all day and remain away for the night. So several weeks went by, the American girl passing her time in an attempt to learn Arabic and offering to aSsist the women in their daily work, which, however, was never permitted. Several times she made piteous appeals to Izrim to be returned to her husband, or at least to be allowed to write to him, but these requests were always gently refused. Weeks wore into months, and the poor girl began to give up all hopes of ever seeing her husband again. Almost heart- broken, her thoughts turned toward her far-off home in America. She wondered what her . father was doing and whether he would make an effort to find her. While all this was happening, Ibrahim, having received word from Port Said that his wife had mysteriously disappeared, hastened there and was told she had gone out for a walk as usual and had not returned. Every inquiry was made, ‘the town was searched, and the American Consul appealed to, but without result ; no trace could be found of the missing girl. In the belief that she had perhaps become despondent and made her way back home to America, Ibrahim wrote several letters to Mr. Winston, but received no answer. The various steamship companies were interrogated, Cairo was searched, and the aid of the Khedive invoked, but all to no purpose. Ibrahim then did his utmost to find the girl in Constantinople, for it was possible she might have returned there and met with misfortune. For months and months the search was kept up until one day Ibrahim, in a more than usually depressed and_ sorrowful mood, complained bitterly to his mother of her coldness towards his Christian wife in the first instance, blaming her for his great sorrow. The aged woman, who had seen her son growing daily thinner and more haggard through his trouble, could stand the strain no longer. Throwing herself at Ibrahim’s feet, she moaned and swayed from side to side, finally confessing that she was responsible for the girl’s disappear- ace! She could not bear to see her son the husband of a Christian, she told him. She had had other views in mind for him, and in an evil hour had arranged with certain people that the girl should be done away with ! The horrified Ibrahim could hardly believe his ears. With a cry of anguish he raised the old woman in his arms and forced her to tell the whole terrible story—how she had bribed a certain barber to introduce her to a middleman, who arranged for the girl's abduction ; and how she had paid a great sum to have this done, and a further sum when the girl’s clothes should be sent to her as a proof of the accomplishment of

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34 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the crime. Ibrahim hoarsely demanded whether the girl’s life had actually been taken, and was answered in the affirmative. Now his anger knew no bounds. Thrusting his weeping mother from him, he called the members of his family and all his relatives about him, and in their presence formally Learning the names renounced her for ever. of the men who had negotiated the crime, tHe distracted husband searched for them high and low, but they could not be found. He then sold all his property and belongings and made his way to Port Said. Securing, by payment of a large sum, the assistance of a body of Arabs, he searched for days every likely place in which his wife might be hidden, if she were not already dead. As is usual in such cases, every place but the right one was hit upon, and the party actually passed the village of Sheikh Izrim, but inquiry there availed nothing. Many months were spent in the quest, until Ibrahim had no more money. Finally, believing “ HE FORMALLY RENOUNCED HER FOR EVER.” his wife to be dead, the poor fellow, now broken in spirit and pocket, sought and found employ- ment in America with the firm of Gyaniclis and Co., Greek tobacco merchants, in whose New York establishment he remained. Meanwhile, what of the missing girl-bride ? For five years and some months Katherine Ibrahim lived with the Arab band, her beauty— although her hair was now worn in the Egyp- tian fashion, and her figure much changed through the indolent life she was leading — causing her to becalled “The Queen of the Sahara.” Many a young Arab tried to win her for his bride, but the girl, ever taci- turn and_ sad - eyed, could not be moved. The old sheikh was like a father to her and the old man’s children idolized her. She had quitesettled down now, in the belief that her days were always to be spent among the Arabs, and that her husband was for ever lost to her. One day Izrim called her to him. “T am getting an old man, my child,” he said, very seriously, “and the time must come when I can no longer hold my men together. What your fate might be then I cannot say. Also, the person who paid the one for whom I acted is dead, and should you wish to correspond with those from whom you were taken I shall see that your writing is delivered.” Katherine, almost wild with joy, wrote not only to her husband at Constantinople, but to her father as well. Old Izrim sent these letters from Port Said, but no answer to either was ever received.* Izrim now remembered that the girl’s husband—of whose fruitless search ‘he had been informed — had invoked the aid of the American Consul, and it was arranged that by “Mr. Winston, Mrs. Ibrahim's father, had died scme time previously. a

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THE VANISHED BRIDE. devious methods this gentleman or his successor should be communicated with. This was done, but the American Government, unlike that of Great Britain in such circumstances, did not seem to place much confidence in the story told at the Consulate by an emissary, who was accordingly curtly told to “look up the woman’s husband.” At this time there was at Port Said, living at the Grand Hotel Continental, a Mr. Jasper Worthing (from whom the facts of this story were obtained), an American, intimately con- nected with a firm of engineers who were doing contract work on the Suez Canal—Messrs. Howard, Howard, and Murphy. This gentle- man happened one day to purchase several camels from an Arab dealer, and while paying him noticed about the man’s neck a scarf bear- img the letters “K. M. I.” in red. Mr. Worthing, being a Kentuckian, recognised these letters as representing the “ Kentucky Military Institute,” situated at Lexington, Kentucky, U.S.A., and the scarf as one of those usually carried by the institute scholars. He> asked the man where he had obtained it, and was told that his wife, the daughter of Sheikh Izrim, had given it to him. Mr. Worthing, his curiosity aroused, made up his mind to find out how a scarf, such as he himself had carried in his schooldays, had come ‘into the pos- session of an Arab girl out in the desert, thousands of miles from Kentucky. He told the dealer that should Sheikh Izrim come in with camels shortly he would do some business with him. Within the month the old sheikh did come in, and, in response to Mr. Worthing’s ques- tioning, the story of Katherine Winston Ibra- him—whose property the scarf had been—was un- folded, a promise being exacted that the sheikh’s part in the abduction should be kept a secret, as he had been paid to have the girl killed, but through goodness of heart had refrained from doing so. Mr. Worthing at once put the telegraph and 35 cable between America and Port Said to work ; but the news came back that Mr. Winston was dead and Ibrahim could not be located. At last, however, a young Greek remembered that he had heard the story of a tall Turk who had gone to America to work for the same firm which employed him—a man who had spent all his money in searching for a lost wife. Again an effort was made, and at last Ibrahim was found. When the news reached him that his wife was alive the poor fellow was stricken with brain fever, and for a long time lay in the Belle- vue Hospital, New York, between life and death. Meanwhile Mr. Worthing had seen his country- woman and supplied her with all the money she required ; and when Ibrahim regained conscious- ness, and it was thought advisable by the doctors, he found one day sitting beside him a well- dressed woman, looking a little older and plumper than when he had last seen her, but, nevertheless, his long-lost girl-wife. So, after six terrible years, Mr. and Mrs. [brahim were restored GRAPHED JUST BEFORE SHE RETURNED TO AMERICA. HER HAIR HAS BEEN CUT AND DRESSED, to each other. They are now living happily together in Louisville, Kentucky, where Mr. Ibrahim is the Southern agent for various cigarette and tobacco firms.

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The “White Marabout” Among the Arabs. By THE BARONESS DE BOERIO. The authoress is the wife of a French officer of Spahis, stationed in Tunis, who has won the confidence and esteem of the Arabs to an unusual extent. Owing to her success in treating minor ailments, the grateful tribesmen bestowed upon the Baroness the title of the “ White Marabout”’ (doctor), and gave her the freedom of their homes, In these chatty articles she describes in amusing fashion her experiences while spending a holiday with an Arab tribe. 1. F mon commandant will let madame and ‘the children come to my Fiangailles,” said our native Spahi orderly, “it will be an honour that El Chebba will never forget,” and he looked so entreatingly and so anxiously at my husband that it was impossible to refuse his request. Personally I should have been deeply disappointed if my husband had refused, for I dearly love the perfect freedom and rest of life among Arabs. No house and housekeeping to speak of, no wasting of time in dressing, no worrying over eti- quette and what Mrs. This and Mr. That will say or think, but just a clean, simple, wholesome life under the deep blue sky and ardent un. We left Sfax to- wards evening in a biggish Arab fishing- boat. ‘The wind was fair, and it was just possible that we might reach our destination by dawn. We slept in one long row on our mat- tresses at the bottom of the boat, my children and I, and as we glided swiftly along under the silver moonlight, and I gazed on my dar- lings’ innocent sleep- ing faces, and the silent, watching brown faces of the Arabs fore nd aft, I felt rather anxious for the safety of our frail barque. Our faith- ful orderly, Ben Hassen, seeing me rise on my elbow, quickly passed the tiller to another and crept down to me. fs ve THE AUTHORESS IN THE COSTUME OF AN ARAB LADY OF RANK, From a Photo. “Madame is not afraid?” he whispered. ‘I am here, and mon commandant has trusted all to me, and to no one else will I give the helm this night.” Knowing his civil employment to be that of a fisherman, I smiled gratefully at him, lay down, and slept in peace until the rising sun and a pleasant smell of fragrant coffee awoke me agreeably. “I knew madame would not be happy with- out her morning café au /ait,” said my Arab boy and interpreter, Yachid, with a pleased grin at my astounded face, “so I brought an Arab earthen stove and a little charcoal in secret, and madame will have her coffee as usual.” At that moment I really felt Yachid to be a more valuable possession than I had ever thought him to be before. When we arrived at our destination we found that we had to wade or be carried nearly a mile before landing. A tall, soli- tary Arab with a camel stood on the shore watching us. “That is my father,” explained Ben Hassen; “he will fetch off the mattresses and madame’s bundles with the camel, but I must carry madame, and the others can carry the children.” Now Ben Hassen is a big man and a strong, but I am also a big woman, and I did not appreciate at all being carried a mile in his arms like a baby. When, with a perplexed é (Shae Sap

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THE “WHITE MARABOUT” AMONG THE ARABS. 37 From a) look on his handsome face, he suggested I should go pick-a-back, I felt wading to be a most delightful thing, and was quite sure that 1 could not allow a son of Islam to lower him- self by carrying a woman 6n his back. So I waded with my eldest daughter, Yencé, who shared my ideas, whilst my first-born, Charlie, dived off and swam around us, and the other children were carried beside me. So hot was it already this August morn that our clothes, which we squeezed out on the white sandy shore, were dry before we had walked the mile and a THE FISHING-PORT AT SFAX, WHENCE THE RARONESS STARTED. long, narrow sleeping - rooms dooked, and where several camels, donkeys, and horses were tethered, guarded by one of the beautiful, long- haired Kabyle dogs, who are as fierce and dis- agreeable as they are handsome. I sat in state, surrounded by all the family—men, women, and children — who gazed on me and the children with friendly eyes, feeling the tex- ture of our cloth- ing with their long, brown henna-stained ingers, and examining our rings, bracelets, and other jewels with brightening eyes. Then great bunches of white Muscat grapes, luscious green figs, and prickly pears were offered us. Suddenly two of the young men got up and ran off quickly, trying each to outrun the other, as if struck by some sudden happy thought. Presently they came back more slowly, bearing a tray of tiny cups full of delicious Moorish coffee, steaming hot and fragrant. One of the men, I noticed, wore a particularly triumphant expression and held one (Photo. 26 eI Yo SOY, 5 GG BS cam ores half which sepa- rated us from the village. There we were led to the house of an uncle and aunt of Ben Hassen’s to rest and refresh our- selves before going up to his father’s garden, some three miles off. A big carpet was spread for us under a fig tree in the courtyard, on to which the G JIAO fe" G RO CHR? Clee. THE HOUSE OF HASSEN'S UNCLE, eo" Fas (Photo, >) CODY ciwsree

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38 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. hand behind his back, whilst the other cast lowering, envious glances at him. With the lithe grace which almost every Arab, even of the lowest class, possesses, and which makes them all appear so well-bred, they presented us each with a cup. Then the triumphant one drew himself up grandly, and with a lordly air brought forth from behind his back—a pint bottle con- taining abopt a sherry wine-glassful of rum ! I gazed at it in dismay, and, of course, the children went into fits of laughter. The women joined, and the birds destined for our lunch were caught and slaughtered. ‘Then came a long wait, during which conversation with the Arab women somewhat slackened, as, do as I would, it was impossible to attribute to myself more children than I had, or to go on express- ing a great desire for duuble the number in the future. This, I should explain, is about the only subject of conversation ordinary uneducated Arab women care for. I had also to examine many inflamed eyes, hear sad tales of pains and aches of very extraordinary kinds, and promise to cure them all, even to the XK SIKOMSMSD < wW vs destroying of a spell thrown by a witch over a woman, who ever since had been as cold as ice all over the body except the soles of her feet, which were burning as the sun overhead! The solving of this latter problem, needless to say, gave me some cause for reflection. At last the dinner was ready, and we were invited to sit down, Turk fashion, around the small, low wooden table, just big enough to hold the round, green- glazed dish piled up with savoury ‘“cous-cous” and white flaky bits of fish. After we had finished the “cous-cous ” was borne away to the men of the house. In consideration of our being great Roumi Commandant who loved the Arabs, and looked like one with his big black eyes and short black beard, the men-folk had consented to eat after us. Strict Arab etiquette SENTED TO BE cS [Phote. ~ ARAN WOMEN WHO SHYLY Cc From a) PHOTOGRAPHED. bent forward and gazed into my face anxiously, and I felt my prestige as the “ White Marabout ” (doctor) was at stake. I smiled sweetly at the young man and thanked him heartily for his thought, but told him that such drinks were of fire and of the devil, and not for the “‘ White Marabout,” who loved Allah. As I finished speaking a ringing “Z’harit!” * went up from the women, shrill and trium- phant, whilst he who had zo/ thought of the rum executed a war-dance of joy, and he who had s\unk away, murmuring piteously, “I paid six sous for it!” This fact I took note of, and later made good to him with interest. Presently there was a great chicken hunt all over the yard, in which the children gleefully * A cry signifying applause. requires the master to eat alone, or with a distinguished male guest first-. His sons and other younger male relatives who follow, and often the male servants. Not till they are satisfied do the women and children get anything. Last of all come the dogs ; and knowing this, it is not astonishing that the poor animals are so lean and gaunt, and so fond of a steak out of the hapless stranger’s leg. _ Our ample repast over, we were told sleep was good for us, and all the carpets and woollen burnous, haiks, etc., were spread on the floor or rolled up into bundles as pillows, and we were literally put to bed by our hosts, the doors and tiny windows being closely shut to keep out the flies. As evening came on we were awakened and regaled with more fruit; then Hassen put the children on donkeys, and, accompanied by his brother Brahim, we trudged off on a three- may be there guests, and belonging to the | Ser ec gs sw De wesc

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THE “WHITE MARABOUT” AMONG THE ARABS. 39 mile walk, uphill and through loose white sand, to Hassen’s garden, where we were to pitch our tent under a caroubier tree, using the boat-sail for a second covering under the branches. We slept in a row, I and my children, whilst before our tent door and all around Hassen’s brothers, uncles, and cousins slept to guard us safely. Indeed, Hassen himself stood up as sentinel outside from the time I retired within the tent until sunrise,-whilst his father watched at the back of the tent. “It is quite un- necessary,” I said to Hassen. ‘What harm can befall us here?” ; “None,” replied Hassen. ‘We have no robbers here; we are all honest men. There are no venomous snakes, as a rule, and no fierce beasts—but who knows? It is better to be on the safe side. A robber might come, a hooded cobra might choose this way, a mad chacal might run amuck. We are honoured by the Commandant’s confidence in us. We can never forget that he confided his wife and children to us, thus showing his love and trust. If all Frenchmen were like, him, how different Arabs From a Photo. would be!” I was deeply touched and amused, and at SEVERAL ARARS SLEPT OUT- SIDE THE AUTHORESS'S TENT AS A GUARD EACH NIGHT. first slightly inconvenienced, by this crowd of great men sleeping around our doorless tent. One morning very early I tip-toed over the unconscious forms, made a sign to Hassen to keep still, and photographed the scene. The days of our holiday passed all too quickly. The whole village quar- relled for the honour of entertaining us, and sometimes, to keep the peace, we were forced to eat two “cous- cous” lunches in succession. The village and surrounding terri- tory was administered by two sheikhs, who were continually at war one with the other. Some- times the partisans of the two rivals came to blows, in which case both were immediately marched to Sfax to answer for their unruly conduct to the representative of French power, the Civil Controller. While there I was a dreadful bone of contention. Each tribe jealously watched my every movement, and tried their very best to dissuade me from going to see their hated rival. I smilingly told them, however, that I was Aabrbi-— From a\ THE FAITHFUL HASKRN. (Photo, friends with all—and-went my way =z DIRT ICT ROOD PTS TF TT RTT it zeal

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40 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. notwithstanding, accompanied to the very edge of the boundary between the rival territories by disconsolate-faced men. Soon my fame as a “doctor-woman” got about, and mothers with sick babies came flocking to me, while others with various chronic ailments entreated me to heal them. Faith has a great deal to do with my cures, I think ; also, the power of medical remedies Fatma’s hand that no other man but he should have her for his wife. ‘1 will kill him even on his wedding-day,” he said, ‘‘the more especially as he to whom she is promised is that cur Ah, my cousin. She hates him!” “ Does she love you?” I asked. His face fell. “I don’t know,” he said, piteously ; “it is only since her sister has been promised to my brother that I have is greater when ap- plied to people who have never before taken them, and I was perfectly astonished at the rapidity with which these simple- minded Arabs got cured. I insisted on giving and ap- plying the remedies myself, and as I did so laying my hands on the sick part, and telling them that to-mor- row they would be nearly well. ‘Their faces visibly bright- ened, and they went away declar- ing they felt better caught a few glimpses of her. We Arabs never see the girl we love, unless we are in some way related, until our marriage. My brother Hassen enlisted because he was refused Tur- quia, whom he loved, yet he has never seen her face since she was ten years old. He is faithful, and so will I be to Han- douna.” “Well, I think we had better see first if she cares for you more than for Ali, before going already. Some of into the matter my cases were very seriously,” I said. curious. Women He flushed crim- came to me to 4 ae son. os 7 THR BOY VACHID—ON THE RIGHT IS A NATIVE SORCERESS, UE tees! 5 raise the, spell From a Photo. Ali is a liar thrown over them and acur. He is by another who for various reasons had bewitched them. Others, purposing to buy a new baby, drank water over my head in order, as they said, “that the child might be white and fair, with bits of the heaven for eyes, and strong and lusty,” as Iwas. Some asked permission to drink over the head of my daughter, whose big dark eyes and clear olive complexion appealed more to their sense of fitness for an Arab child. Then lovers came and confided their troubles to my ears, begging me to use my influence with obdurate fathers or brothers; and here affairs became much more difficult to manage than the curing of bad eyes, fever, and nervous headaches and wounds. The first to ask my help was Brahim, our Hassen’s laughing brother. He declared him- self deeply, hopelessly in love with Handouna, younger sister of Turquia, the girl whose engage- ment to Hassen we had come to celebrate, and he swore to me by the Prophet’s beard and by afraid ; no woman could love him.” “ But he is the son of the sheikh,” I answered, “and Arab women care for gold and jewels and silk clothing more than for the love of men.” “Tt is true,” he said, and then he threw his head back and laughed onfidently. Handouna was a beautiful girl, full of high spirits, and so independent that her parents were often obliged to lock her up to keep her out of sight of strangers’ eyes, according to Arab etiquette. She laughed and joked all day, hiding under a frivolous exterior the fire of a hopeless love, and a terrible fear of her coming marriage with Ali. And her love, sad to say, _ was not given to Brahim, but to Said, nephew of the rival sheikh, also a cousin of her own on her mother’s side. “In former days the rivalry was not so great between the families,” she told me, “and my mother’s sister was given to Sheikh

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THE “WHITE MARABOUT” AMONG |THE ARABS. 4 Mohammed’s brother, but now any idea of union between them would be spurned with anger and contempt. My father already suspects me so strongly that he sleeps at the door of our room for fear I might slip away, but ”—and she drew nearer to me, with a slow, tender smile on her lovely brown face—“ when the moon is low and the night is black I pass over his sleeping body and creep up to the flat roof, where for a few short minutes I can speak to him I love.” Love’s ways, I thought, are very much the same all the world over. Meanwhile the day of Hassen’s public frangailles drew near. His handsome face looked anxious, for although the price of the girl—or perhaps, to be less brutal, I should say the dowry he was to give her parents for her— had been decided upon, he knew that they would take every opportunity of breaking off the engagement. They still bore him a grudge for having, when quite a boy, acted as scribe for the rival sheikh in a letter of complaint to the French authorities against their own sheikh and brother. The car/a, or marriage contract, was not yet signed before the Aad (Arab lawyer), and until that was done the girl’s family still had power to break and two men brandishing their guns and yelling their respective war-cries rushed forward, and after a few seconds of mimic warfare discharged their heavily-loaded arms at each other, one falling as though dead at the feet of Hassen’s bride. He rose, however, as others came forward to go through the same programme, and the clear, triumphant “ Z’harit” of the women filled the air with applause, drowning the deeper, fiercer cries of the men. The air grew stifling with gunpowder smoke, and one’s senses were dazed by the repeated reports of overloaded guns. Still, however, the orgy continued, for I had given handsomely of powder, and until the last grain was gone nothing could stop them, not even the bursting of a gun, which blew away the hand of the unfortunate owner. He simply rolled a red cotton handkerchief round the mangled remains and came away in silence. Later on in the evening I washed the hand with antiseptics, and bound it gently up in medicated cotton-wool and clean white linen, whilst he smoked a cigarette in a casual way, looking very flattered by the moaning and rock- ing to and fro of his women-folk, who had scratched their faces as a token of grief in a their bond. The ceremony, how- ever, took place without incident, although the dasa (father) looked very black, and as the camels, loaded with presents of corn, barley, and jars of oil, filed into the courtyard of his house he examined them with a very critical and practical eye. Near the door of the sleeping-room Hassen’s fiancée, most satisfactory manner. What amused me immensely in this “engagement ceremony” was the calm indiffer- ence of Hassen, who stood in the crowd, very hand- somely dressed, looking on, hold- ing a large parasol lined with green over his head just as if he were a mere spectator, and not one of the chief actors. In the evening, closely veiled, stood half hidden under an awning, surrounded by her female friends and relations. A great crowd of men, who arrived with guns and pistols, filled the other part of the inner court. Thé tom-tom rolled furiously, in company with the debourka and the melodious flute ; the camels, unwillingly and with loud complaint, fell on their knees to be unloaded of their bridal burdens; and as the last rose to his full height again the music increased in fervour, Vol, xx.—6. From a} THE “ FANTASIA,” OR MIMIC COMBAT, WHICH WAS ENACTED BEFORE THF. BRIDE-TO-BF. when we got back to our primitive tent under the caroubier tree, he asked me in a diffident voice, “Ts my fiancée pretty ?” “Yes, very pretty, and a very good, hard- working girl,” I said, warmly. “She is not beautiful like Handouna ; I know that,” he said. ‘When first I fell in love, three years ago, I could not decide with which to take up. I had seen neither, but Handouna’s beauty was much vaunted to me, whilst Turquia was said to be more serious and industrious —always [Photo.

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42 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. at the loom weaving carpets OSS DGS OCESS and haiks. 1 thought these qualities worth more in a wife than mere beauty. I am glad, for now I have seen Handouna I have learnt that she 1s as fickle as she is beautiful.” “As you have been allowed to see Handouna, why cannot you see her sister, your fiancee?” i “ Handouna is now as good as my sister,” he explained ; “she is related to me by my engagement to Turquia. But ‘Turquia is not yet my wife ; she is no relation, and it 1s unseemly that a man should look on the face of a woman who Is not even a connection.” “Oh!” 1 said, and felt rather dizzy trying to under- stand this abstruse reasoning. = I was much amused by an Y) (oSSIOS= SSGSS5SSSi attention shown me by one of the sheikhs when I went to lunch at his house with my children. I found there an Italian woman, speaking French very well, who sat beside me all the morning trying to talk and amuse me. I kept wishing she would go, as I much pre- ferred being alone with the Arab women, but she “stuck on,” until at last I asked her if it was not her husband's breakfast hour. “Yes,” she said ; “he comes home from work at midday. He is a mason; but to-day I pre- pared his breakfast for him early, as the sheikh thought you might be dull here, and asked me to keep you company !” “Very kind and thoughtful of him, I’m sure,” I said, in a polite and grateful voice ; whereupon my dreadful children shrunk up into corners, whence smothered laughter came forth in gurgling bursts. At lunch I was still more touched by the sheikh’s attention to me. The “mason woman,” as my children dubbed my would-be entertainer, sat down with us very happily, and the sheikh actually served us him- self—us “ imperfect beings, inferior to man, and made for him,” as the Koran says. Of course, I guessed that the attention was really meant for my husband, and that the sheikh just wanted to show us he knew something of the peculiar ways of the French. He had procured a real French table on which to serve our lunch; there were also a tablecloth which looked horribly like a sheet, and chairs mostly with three legs and requiring considerable balancing. Lastly, there were dinner- napkins which were really and THE CkKOWD AT THE ENGAGEMENT CEKEMONY—HASSEN IS THE MAN WITH THE SUNSHADE, from a Photo. truly towels, with red stripes, fringes, and all! After some time spent up in the garden I thought I should like to move down nearer the sea ; we all wanted to bathe, and it was not pleasant to trudge down three kilometres through the burning sand, and then come home again. 1 spoke of our desire to Hassen, who said it would be quite easy, as the rival sheikh had a nice room built on the sea-shore near Sidi Abdullah’s tomb, and that for the present none of the family were using it. We therefore asked for the key, which was given us with delight, for were we not leaving the opposition party? We had, however, some difficulty in getting away from the garden, for its owner, Hassen’s father, refused to let us go. “The Commandant,” he said, “gave you into our care. I, as head of the family, am responsible. I cannot allow you to leave my protection. If you go to Sheikh Mohammed’s house I can do nothing for you, and I cannot answer for anything that may befall you.” This sounded quite tragic, and it amused, although it annoyed, me. ‘The old man was obdurate, but then I, too, was determined to have my own way, and, as all men know, it is useless to argue with a determined woman. Late in the evening we made our “ flitting,” our goods loaded on a camel, the children on donkeys, whilst I, Hassen, and his brother Brahim followed behind in true nomad fashion. Hassen’s father bade us-good-bye;with a stern

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THE face, laying his hand on his heart in the courtly Arab manner. ‘“ May God be with you and keep you,” he said, gravely, and watched us until we were out of sight. “My father is not pleased,” said Hassen, “and he would not have let you go had I not obtained the permission of Sheikh Mohammed to allow us young men to accompany you. I told him it was your desire, and so he consented.” “WHITE MARABOUT” AMONG THE ARABS. 43 whitewashed room and stretched ourselves on the sparta-grass mats and [astern carpets to seek sleep we knew that ten faithful servitors surrounded us, shielding us from all harm. Life was very calm and lovely down by the soft sea waves. All along the shore were remains of old Roman villas partially excavated, and in the big-roofed cistern of one, which gave on to the sea like a great cave, we used to read and work and sleep “What a_ fuss during the burn- ——— —— about nothing,” I thought, but I took great care not to say it. We made a very frugal meal on arriving, for we had first to pick up the sticks to make our fire, and they were few and far between. We managed, how- ever, to boil some water, in which we cooked eggs—pre- viously scrubbed with sand and then washed in the sea —and made tea. We had also a big basket of Muscat grapes and several flat Arab loaves, and I can say truly that I envied no man a finer repast as I sat, Turk fashion, sur- rounded by my children, with the glorious starlit African sky over- head, the deep blue of the Mediterranean before me, and around the gleaming sand of the desert-like earth, studded here and there with palm trees, whilst to my left on a hillock, white and mysterious, stood Sidi Abdullah’s tomb. As night drew her mantle closer to the earth the August moon rose in magnificence, paling the sweet starlight with her red splendour, and from all quarters came draped figures, slow and stately. Soon grave salutations greeted us, invariably ending with the “God bless you and keep you” which concludes every true son of Islam’s speech. When we withdrew into our small HASSEN AND HIS HOKSK IN GALA AITIRE. From @ Photo, = —————— ing hours of those hot August days, when forty - five degrees Centigrade in the shade was || quite an ordinary temperature. One || day I gavea picnic, and invited ‘Tur- quia and = Han- douna, with their father and their little brother, also Brahim, who, in- deed, was the originator of the idea. Hassen went away riding alt day ; according to etiquette it would not do to approach so near to_ his fiancée. The baba looked very doubt- ful when I first asked him to allow his daughters to come. It was unusual to give such freedom to Arab girls, he said, but I begged so hard that after much thought he relaxed, and said that he and his children would make a pil- grimage to Sidi Abdullah, and that I might bring the food and eat it there on the marabout’s veranda with them. “ But can I, a Roumi (Christian), enter the marabout?” I asked. “Will not the other pilgrims ill-treat me?” I felt rather uncomfort- able, for the fanaticism of Islam is well known. He laid his hand kindly on my shoulder ; then took mine and pressed it against his heart. “You are not as others,” he said; “you are one of us. Of that Sidi Abdullah is judge.” I noticed as I went up the pilgrim-worn steps that my Arab friends watched me anxiously, and that when I stood safe and sound on the veranda, drinking in the cool sca-breeze and the beauty of the wide expanse of deep blue waters and the white, sun-parched earth, before and around me,

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44 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. their faces brightened quite triumphantly, and the pilgrims lying lazily about in the holy shade rose, at a few words from them, and bowed before me. I found out afterwards from my servant, Yachid, that this mounting the steps to the marabout was a proof of my saintliness. “Had you not been a holy and charitable woman in verity, and your power of healing from Allah, Sidi Abdullah would have taken you with invisible hands and, throwing you down the steps, would have probably dashed your brains out on the rock !” I smiled in somewhat sickly fashion. “Tt was so kind of the dada to risk me,” I said. “He felt sure you would get up all right,” answered Yachid, earnestly ; “he was only a /ittle anxious at the last moment.” As we lay half dozing after our midday meal I asked someone to tell me the history of Sidi Abdullah. No one seemed to know much but that he was a “holy” man. At last, however, a handsome young soldier belonging to the Tunisian native regiment opened his eyes, yawned, and Offered -to give me the information I desired. “Sidi Abdullah was a Marocain,” he said, with solemn faith, “who one day received a mysterious message from Allah to rise up and depart dn his donkey whither he should be led. So Sidi Abdullah clothed himself in his finest clothes, and, taking all his papers of origin and holiness with him, mounted his donkey and rode away whither the donkey’s spirit led him. And the donkey ambled on SIDL ABDULLAH'S TOMB AND MOSQUE. From a Photo. gently, neither turning to the left nor to the right nor stopping for any reason whatsoever. And it came to pass that Sidi Abdullah died.” Here he paused and looked round on us with solemnity to observe the effect. “Sidi Abdullah died,” he continued, presently, “but sat as firm as ever on his donkey, which ambled on gently, neither turning to the left nor to the right nor stopping for any reason what- soever, until he came 4ere”—he pointed to the foot of the hillock—‘‘where the donkey stopped short and waited. And the natives came and looked and saw that it was a dead man sitting on his back, and they feared greatly. Taking him reverently off they searched his pockets, but only found the papers establishing his saintliness.” i “I should like to have searched theirs afterwards,” remarked my son, pleasantly. “And so they took him and buried him ¢here,” said the soldier, pointing to a sister hillock some fifty yards off, where a few blocks of stone marked the saint’s resting- place, “and here was built this little mosque to his memory, for the shelter of the pilgrims who flock to his grave to be cured of their diseases.” The day passed quickly, and all too soon my holiday was over—cut short by a bad attack of fever. I made a second visit to my Arab friends, however, when I saw the finale of many love stories and family intrigues. My curious experiences on this occasion I propose to relate in a final article. ~ < (To be concluded.)

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A CLOSE SHAVE. By THE Hon. W. M. HucuHes, MEMBER OF THE COMMONWEALTH PARLIAMENT OF AUSTRALIA AND LATE MINISTER FOR EXTERNAL AFFAIRS, ETC. One of the distinguished visitors to the Colonial Conference here relates a terrible experience of his early life in Queensland—how he and a friend got lost in an uninhabited wilderness, and came very near perishing by the most painful of all deaths. T was the Sunday before St. Patrick’s Day, in the year 1886, when Jimmy and I stole with unobtrusive tread over the stone bridge of the Mary " River along the road to Gympie. We carried our “swags” easily over our shoulders, and in the grey dusk attracted little attention. After following the road for a mile or so we turned abruptly to the left and dived into the bush. Avoiding the track, we walked on in the gathering dusk until much stumbling over logs and fallen scrub brought us to a standstill. Then we toilet, but just pulled on our boots and were ready for the track. We had slept in our clothes for two reasons—the nights were cold and it saved much valuable time. Plunging at once into the thick scrub, and keeping the sun almost in our faces, by nine o'clock we had reached an old timber-getter’s hut, where a dour old body of obvious Scotch descent gave us a little flour and sugar and enough meat for breakfast. She asked no inconvenient questions, and we told her no unnecessary lies. dropped our bundles and boiled the billy. It had been a hot day, and the tea was very wel- come. As we lay before the fire and munched our johnny -cake and corned beef we experienced a feel- ing closely approaching happiness. But there was a portentous fly in our oint- ment nevertheless, and the contemplation of this meta- phorical insect sent a shiver up and down our spines. For we were fugitives flee- ing from justice, although our crime was “only a very little one.” Jimmy, being a hired servant within the meaning of the Master and Servants Act of Queensland, had left his “employment and his kind master and “ vamoosed,” and I had aided and abetted him in his vile purpose. It was a job for the mounted troops or the black trackers | However, none came that night, and we slept the sleep of youth, and waking, found the sun high up in the heavens. We wasted no time in vain regrets nor upon our THE HON, W. M. HUGHES, MEMBER OF THE COMMONWEALTH PARLIAMENT OF AUSTRALIA, WHO HERR RELATES A TERRIBLE EXPRRIENCE OF HIS EARLY LIFE. From a Photo. by courtesy of British Australasian,” We quickly made a cheerful meal, and with the elastic mind of youth felt that we had beaten the trackers and done the men in blue brown. Notwith- standing this, it was obvious even to us that one might presume too much on official ineptitude. And so, after a brief spell, we rolled up our swags once more and pushed on. There was no track, and the scrub was growing thicker, but we kept a fairly straight course while the sun was low in the horizon. Towards noon it’ became more difficult, and we made very little progress. About four o’clock we came suddenly into a clear patch of country and stopped to boil the billy, which we had filled at a water-hole in the scrub. The view from where we stood was not unpleasing. A mountain, covered, as most Australian hills are, with scrub, faced us towards the east. The country around was undulating, and the_bush, though thick, did not impede further, progress.)() Although we had

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46 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. little curiosity to know our whereabouts, we decided to climb the hill and view the surround- ing country from this conimanding position. This we at once proceeded to do. After walk- ing for some two hours, however, we found our- selves but little nearer to our mountain. It is indeed astounding in this clear air how one 1s deceived as to distance. We camped about six or a little after, for the light failed early. We had some johnny-cake and sugar for our meal; the meat was gone, and we were down to bed-rock or thereabouts in the commissariat department. The last of the flour went to make johnny-cakes and the look- out for the morn:ng was not promising. We were, however, foolishly cheerful and chatted hopefully before turning in. We rose early and made straight for the mountain, which Jimmy had found, from an old railway time-table map in his bag, was Mount Boppel. We stepped out in great style and reached the foothills of Boppel about 10 a.m. It had been a fairly stiff climb and we were hungry and thirsty. Of water there was no lack, and we soon had a billy of tea ready, but of food we had only a few spoonfuls of ration sugar, which we decided to eat raw rather than use with the tea. It was divided out carefully, each man getting about three spoonfuls. No doubt a sugar diet has much to recom- mend it—I understand it has been adopted by the German Army—but in homeeopathic doses it most emphatically cannot be regarded as a perfect substitute for a square meal. We rose from our luncheon, as the philosophers tell us we should always do, with a feeling that we could eat more—much more, in fact. The prospect of getting any more, however, was indisputably poor. We decided to view the landscape over once again—the scrub being thick and our outlook circumscribed—from the top of a tree. After some trouble I managed this little business, and once clear of the surrounding vegetation obtained a magnificent view of the country. Towards the east was the sea, with Fraser or Sandy Island in the foreground. One could see the waters in the narrow channel sparkling in the sunlight. The tropical luxuri- ance of the scrub on the island gave it a most charming appearance. In the distance the smoke of a steamer could be seen faintly smudging the horizon. Southward stretched the Bottle and Glass Mountains, running from the coast at right angles, in the direction of Gympie. They appeared about ten miles off, but we put them down as quite twenty-five, and found them nearer sixty.” To our right—that is, to the south and apparently somewhat nearer—a lighthouse could be seen. The time-table map did not dis- close its name, and I have never ascertained it. The intervening country was heavily scrubbed, but there were no signs of cultivation or even of inhabitants. We had made no inquiries on this head— indeed, had given it no thought—but it struck us now as being rather curious and indeed omin- ous. After a brief consultation we decided to make straight for the coast, where we might get something to eat. It was not exactly pleasant to dwell on what might happen if we did not. Speaking for myself, I had a conviction that unless we dropped on to something in the way of provender soon I should feel pretty bad. I mentioned this, casually, to Jimmy. Apparently he had similar convictions. The occasion, how- ever, called for prompt action rather than words. We shouldered “ bluey” and struck down the slope towards the flat country beneath us. We walked rapidly, and for an hour or so found it easy going; then the undergrowth became thicker and the travelling more difficult. We quickly lost sight of the coast and the mountains to our right, and no landmark remained but Mount Boppel. By this we steered our course as well as we were able, but for hours at a stretch we could see nothing for the thick scrub, and then we went astray badly ; several times we found ourselves heading straight for Mount Boppel instead of away from it. Towards nightfall the undergrowth became so thick that it was only by hacking it with the tomahawk that we could get along at all. I don’t think we travelled more than five miles as the crow flies during the day, although we walked fully three times as far. About an hour before sundown we struck a creek with a rapidly flowing stream. After tracing it up and down and failing to find a ford, we were com- pelled to tackle it in the nude, holding our swags over our heads. The water was cold, reaching to our necks in the middle of the stream. I tripped over a snag when near the other bank, and fell full length, with swag, clothes, boots, and all. There was no danger, but it was distinctly unpleasant, and I shivered all night in spite of a good fire, for my clothes did not readily dry, and I was weak from want of food. We spent a poor night, sleeping fitfully. We had had nothing to eat for twenty-four hours, and our chances of getting anything were of the slightest. At dawn we bundled up and, with the rising sun full in our faces, struck straight for the coast. We were very hungry, and beginning to feel weak. At this time of the year, though the days are hot the nights are very cold. While the sun

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A CLOSE SHAVE. 47 was low we kept a straight course, and in the bracing air made rapid Progress. By about ten o’clock we reckoned we had done a good nine miles, which, in such country, was not a bad per. formance. During this time we crossed three more creeks, in one of which I accidentally let fall a packet con- taining my refer- ences and letters of — introduction. This was very sad, of course; henceforth I should be a characterless man, but worse was to follow, for shortly afterwards we missed the toma- hawk. How or where we dropped it we did not know. To have ” no character was bad, but, situated as we were, to have no tomahawk was worse. However, it was gone, and without it we could not chop our way through the scrub, cut wood for the fire, nor dig for water. This last did not trouble us at the moment, for there was more water than we wanted at hand. About noon we called a halt. The sun was hot and there was not a breath of air stirring. After a spell we boiled the billy and had some hot tea, without milk or sugar. It was comfort- ing and did us good, but it was not food. Con- versation flagged, but we put in a great deal of time thinking. The position was plain: we must get something to eat or die. Starting off again after a brief spell my swag felt very heavy and I determined to drop it unless we struck something pretty soon. It was an extraordinary and alarming feature of our journey, by the way, that we had not seen a sign of a track of any kind, not even a wallaby’s, Before the afternoon had gone we had waded through no fewer than six creeks, besides two “THE UNDERGROWTH BECAME SO THICK THAT IT WAS ONLY RV HACKING IT WITH A TOMAHAWK THAT WE COULD GET ALONG AT ALL." which we had to swim. The charac- ter of the country was changing, the scrub. being less dense, with practi- cally no under- growth. -The ti- tree began to take the place of the gum, and on the far side of the last creek hardly any eucalypti were to be seen. The change was a most depressing one. The stunted, puny stems of the ti- tree with its ragged drab bark flapping to and fro in melancholy fashion, the sparse foliage, and dull green contrasted poorly with the luxuriant bush through which we had lately travel- led. Although this difference in the nature of the * country indicated that we were not far from the coast, we could not get a glimpse of the sea from where we pitched our camp. This was the more dis- quieting because the country was open and our view unobstructed. The Bottle and Glass Mountains were now plainly visible to the right, and Mount Boppel, standing like a sentinel upon guard, rose, as it seemed, almost at our very backs. For the first time since leaving Maryborough we began to feel seriously alarmed. We were getting rapidly weaker and felt that we might never win through. No signs of human settle- ment were to be seen; a regiment of soldiers could die in such country and none be the wiser. We lay down on the sandy soil and drank our tea in silence. Our thoughts ran in the same groove—were we going to be “nipped” or not? but we shrank from putting the position in words. After banking up the fire we turned in, trying to sleep, and so forget that we were hungry. In troubled and fitful fashion we slumbered ; unpleasant dreams disturbed us, and we felt the cold very much. My clothes had been wetted

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48 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. through in crossing the creeks, and towards morning I found further attempts to sleep impossible. My teeth chattered and I shivered all over. Before dawn we were on our way, making a bee-line for where we considered the coast should be. We were in wretched plight. Cold, hungry, our wet clothes clinging to our bodies, we stumbled along like old men, several times fall- ing over scrub or into holes in the ground. Once I fell on my face and lay without attempting to Shortly we came to another creek, the widest that we had yet seen. Under ordinary circum- stances we might well have hesitated to cross it, for the water was racing down with a great roar. But we had no alternative, and, without taking the trouble to remove our clothes, plunged in, our swags held high over our heads and our boots strung by the laces around our necks. We were nearly swept off our feet by the rushing waters, and when in the very middle I walked into a hole and found myself under water. Instinc- “OL CRAWLED UP THE ULMER BANK, FEELING GLAD THAT | WAS ALIVE,” rise for some moments, laughing weakly. By and by the sun rose, and we began to get warm and felt more cheerful. A short camp about ten with a drink of tea was all the respite we allowed ourselves. While we could keep our legs we had to push on. By noon the heat was very oppressive, and the sand-flies irritated us greatly. tively I threw out my hands and started to swim, and so dropped swag, boots, and hat. To recover them was impossible in the circum- stances, and I crawled up the other bank, feeling glad that I was alive. I was now literally in light marching order ! I had no shirt—that had gone;down with 2 LION C

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A CLOSE SHAVE. 49 the swag—no hat or boots. I had _ hardly shaken the water out of my eyes when, hearing a shout from Jimmy, I looked up and saw him pointing to a mia-mia (native hut ; a rude shelter built of leaves and branches) a few yards off. Without a word we ran towards it as quickly as we could. I hardly know what we expected to find there, but it was empty, and had evidently been so for a very long while. It was a black-fellow’s mia-mia, and although we made diligent search we could discover no signs of any track leading to it, and it was certainly not a regular camp, as there were none of the traces that lengthened occupation always leaves. We were bitterly disappointed and almost.over- whelmed at this last stroke of fate. Wet to the skin, hatless, shirtless, bootless; without blankets, without food for three days, and no prospect of getting any, it must be admitted that there were good reasons for our dejection. But we were not quite beaten yet, in spite of all, and, with a glance at the deserted mia-mia and at the creek where lay buried the whole of my personal property, we once more hurried on. The country was now very open and the sky had that vivid brightness which usually marks the presence of the sea. There was the smell of the salt water in the air, too, and the soil beneath our feet became rapidly more sandy, ‘until at length from the top ridge we came full in sight of the ocean. It appeared a mile or so away, but was at least five. We wasted no time in admiring the glorious view that lay unrolled before our eyes. The love of the beautiful is not for the man who has not dined for three days. The sea was to us simply a place where it was most likely one could get something to eat. Without a word we set out on a jog-trot straight for the beach. The going was not easy, the grass-trees grew thickly, and we sank over our ankles in the loose white sand at every step. There were no more creeks to cross, but the sun was hot, and we ran with our mouths wide open like dogs after a fox. We heeded nothing, thought of nothing, save that we must get to the sea; we were absorbed by this one idea. Stumbling, falling, scrambling to our feet again with a grunt, going straight for our goal as horses or cattle make for water or pigeons for home, we ran on. How long it took us to get over the ground I cannot say, but at length we burst through the last piece of scrub on to the hard sand of the beach itself. Just what we hoped to find there I have now No idea, but at first it appeared as if we were to find nothing at all in the way of food. The beach was sandy, and sloped so gradually that Vol. xx.—7. the water at low tide could not be less than half a mile—it looked considerably more—from high- water mark. There were none of those rocks on which oysters love to congregate. There were belated jellyfish stranded in myriads, and innumerable crabs about the size of threepenny pieces moved with incredible rapidity over the sand, diving like a flash into their holes on the approach of any intruder, but there were no mussels, or cockles, or periwinkles. Decidedly the prospect was not promising. Jimmy looked blankly at me. “T wish to Heaven,” said he, ‘‘ we’d never left London.” I murmured a weak but earnest amen. In London one could get mussels and cockles—on a plate with chilli vinegar—at almost any corner. In that delectable land, too, baked potatoes and saveloys, all steaming hot, literally dotted the landscape o’er, all to be had for the ridiculous sum of one penny. As for oysters——! And to think we had left this delightful paradise for a desolate beach with nothing on it but dead jelly-fish and undersized and anzemic crabs, all legs, was enough to move one to tears. But we were too hungry to sit down and cry, and so we ran here and there looking for any- thing eatable. Lower down we found a lot of pools a foot or two across and a few inches deep, but containing nothing in the way of food. At last, when almost in despair, we dropped on one pool with a couple of curious fish, about the size of one’s hand, lurking in the sand at the bottom. After a struggle we captured them and ate them. Then we cried for more, but, though we hunted with great diligence, found none. About four o’clock we gave up the search and decided to look for water. We were exceedingly thirsty, we had run at a good pace, and the unclassified things we had eaten had doubtless done their share, for they were as salt as red herrings. Hitherto water had been plentiful, and we had no idea that there would be any difficulty in getting as much as we required. We had neither billy nor pannikin, but that did not matter much, for there was no tea, and, what was worse, not a match. We made our way off the beach and searched the scrub for a hole or a creek, but although we looked carefully found no signs of water any- where. Night came, and we lay down and tried to sleep, but sleep was not for us. We were very cold and very hungry. ‘These things we could have borne, but neither philosopher nor stoic has ever borne the pangs of thirst uncom- plainingly. We had not yet, indeed, tasted these horrors to the full, but each hour our sufferings became more intolerable. The night was very cold. I had no shirt, no hat, no boots, or socks, and my teeth chattered loudly and

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50 THE WIDE unceasingly, my feet were cut with the spike-like grass-trees, and the sand had ground its way into the cracks, Jimmy was no better off. He had boots, but his heels were all blistered, and the salt water and sand had rubbed the skin off until there were two great inflamed patches as large as pennies. “Jimmy,” said I, presently, “do you think we'll get water to-morrow?” “T don't know, Billy,” he answered ; “but if we don’t we're done.” We lay still for a few minutes after this plain statement of the case, and then Jimmy gave a choked, gulping sound and began to cry, and I cried with him. Don’t despise us too much, for we were very young; we had had practically nothing to eat for close on four days. We were very cold and afraid we should die. Somehow or other we got through that night. How wretched we were ; what suffering of mind and body we endured, I forbear to say. With the first glimpse of daylight we were on our feet again, shivering with the cold, very weak, and with the desire for water intensified a hundred- fold. Water we must have, and that speedily, or we should most assuredly perish. From the look of the country there ought to have been little difficulty in finding it, but the hours passed and not a drop could we discover. By ten the beams of the sun were beating down upon our unprotected heads, until mine throbbed as though it would burst. ‘The blood roared like a cataract as it rushed through my brain. A sickly fear clutched at my heart—we were going to die of thirst in this wilderness ! All pretence of cheerfulness was at an end; we read in each other's eyes our inevitable fate. Frantically we stumbled on, but quite aimlessly, having no sense of direction, no plan, no idea, save only to get water. We were no longer men, but automata. We might, had we had the sense to think of so obvious a thing, have gone straight back over our tracks and so reached one of the creeks we had crossed on the previous day. But we were like men doomed to destruction. We were mad. Noon, and no water! Fiercer and fiercer the sun blazed down upon us, drying up every particle of moisture in our tortured bodies. My head felt as though a brazier of living fire were searing its way through to my very heart. The air quivered with the heat ; every breath burned our throats like vitriol The sun was going down—it may have been four o’clock, or per- haps five—when we suddenly stumbled upon a small water-hole. With a rush we fell upon our faces and drank. It was salt as the sea! The agony of dis- appointment was too great. All hope fled—we WORLD MAGAZINE. were face to face with death. Then I fainted, and my next recollection is of Jimmy pouring water on my face and down my mouth out of his hat. I looked up at him stupidly. great light of joy in his face. “Its all right, Billy,” he said, hoarsely ; “there’s water here after all. Come along and drink !” I scrambled up and followed him a few yards ; there was a regular chain of small water-holes, about the size of wash-hand basins—holes scooped out of the sand by kangaroos. All but one of these were salt or brackish ; but at the end there was one full of delightful, cool, fresh water. And down we lay before this greatest of God’s gifts, and drank, and drank, and drank. The dusk came, the night fell, and we lay thus drinking the blessed water, and babbling like children at intervals. We were hungry, we were cold, we had neither clothes, nor fire, nor food, but we thanked Heaven that we were no longer thirsty. When morning came we found we were not more than a mile from the beach. As nothing on earth would tempt us to do anything that might involve us in another such experience, we decided to blaze a track to the beach with Jimmy’s penknife. This we did, and after walking out quite a mile—for the water was very shallow—we struck an oyster-bed. The oysters were flat, and although the shells were imposing the oysters themselves were simply a fraud. Jimmy having contrived to lose his knife, we were reduced to breaking them open by hammering them under water on the rocks. This was a wretchedly slow business, the net result being a mangled combination of oyster and shell. We never got one decent feed during the five days we remained at the camp. We were always famishing, but we were comparatively happy ; for we had water, and the track, which we had now blazed with oyster-shells, became quite familiar to us. To add to our comfort Jimmy had found in some obscure corner of his pockets a match—moist, limp, and un- attractive. We dried it in the sun, and after making elaborate preparations with dry leaves and twigs, at length struck it and kindled a magnificent fire, which did not go out for the four days we remained there. We were warm now of a night—on one side, at any rate. We found a few mussels and winkles, and cooked them in primitive fashion by laying them in the hot ashes; but we could get nothing substantial to eat, and, to tell the truth, were half-starved. So, with our courage coming back to us, and the memory of that awful time growing less vivid, we-decided jto push on There was a

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A CLOSE SHAVE. 51 towards the south. But upon one thing we were determined; we would not go without a day’s supply of water; which was very much like saying we would not go at all, for we had neither billy nor water-bag, nor anything that would hold water. But necessity is a great sharpener of the wits, and Jimmy suddenly hit upon what he declaregk was a splendid idea. Briefly this magnificent conception was—that I I submitted, and we hacked it off with an oyster-shell, tied the bottom up with some unravelled thread, put a twig round the top, tied it in its place, stuck the stick through, put it in the water tossoak, and behold! it was a good water-bag, not a drop escaping. After many privations, hungry, cold, and wet, we struck a timber-getter’s hut. There we were “WE STRUCK A TIMBER-GETTER'S HUT.” should cut off the leg of my canvas pants at the knee! This—tied at the end, and with a green twig bent around the top—would, if a stick were pushed through for convenience in carry- ing, make a first-class water-bag. No doubt he was right, but it was rough on me. I had in the world but a flannel undershirt and a pair of canvas pants, and now I was deliber- ately to submit to the loss of one of the legs ! “Only up to the knee, Billy, old chap,” said Jimmy, persuasively, when I protested. treated like kings. The wife, a generous-hearted Trishwoman, wept over our sufferings, and filled us so full of melon-pie that we were like to burst. The boss listened to our story, and at its conclusion shook his head. ‘You were lucky to get through,” he said. ‘ Nobody’s ever come across that country in my time.” We were lucky. How lucky the good man did not, and could not, know; nor could any- one who had not walked hand in hand with Death in his most awful_ shape.

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Sport and Adventure in Central Africa. By Major P. H. G. Powe.i-Cotton. This absorbing account of a memorable journey has been specially and exclusively written for “The Wide World Magazine.” Major Powell-Cotton, who had already won fame as an explorer, left England in November, 1904, bound on an extended hunting trip in the little-known regions of the Congo Free State, and his tour lasted upwards of two and a half years. Married in Bast Africa in 1905, the Major's wife has since shared the hardships and dangers of the expedition— surely a unique honeymoon. Major Powell-Cotton has discovered six species of animals previously unknown to science, and has sent home the skin and complete skeleton of the mysterious okapi. His narrative will be found full of incident and interest. Il. at RUMIU, the next station reached, Sq UT is an important one, lying as it does at the point where the route to the Kilo gold mines branches off from the main road between Uganda and the navigable waters of the Upper Congo. The first day’s march from this post led over a series of rolling grass hills which would make an admirable grazing ground, while pleasant streams watered nearly every valley. What little game there was could only be found with difficulty, being hidden in the long grass. From the forest long belts of timber stretched the forest proper, by a cleared track some five yards wide, shown in the first photograph. Among the trees it was far from being the dreary, dismal place I had been imagining, deprived of all sunlight and filled with such dense mist that one lived in a perpetual shower- bath. The fine trees that rose on every hand were hung with luxuriant masses of creeper, which clung round every trunk and stretched in fantastic twists and festoons from branch to branch. Fresh green ferns and brightly-tinted foliage were scattered round in rich profusion ; birds twittered and sang above, while little shafts THR ENTRANCE TO THE ITURI FOREST, HAUNT OF THR PYGMY AND THE MYSTERIOUS OKAPL From a Photo. out into the pasture land, like so many tentacles ready to seize and gather it into the parent forest. We crossed one of these and pitched our tents by a second, which clothed the banks of a little stream. On the following day we made our way into of sunlight, filtering through the trees, caught the wings of the many gaily-coloured butterflies that flitted from flower to flower. Soon we reached the banks of the Ituri, a fine river nearly two hundred yards wide, across which we were ferried/ in adug-out canoe

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ht *e food was cooked, part of which SPORT AND ADVENTURE From a\ THE AUTHOR'S EXPEDITION AKOUT TO CROSS capable of carrying thirty to forty men at a time. On the crest of the opposite bank lay two tiny model houses, carefully finished in every detail, exactly like ordinary dwellings. The walls, formed of canework caked with mud, supported a roof thatched with leaves, as no grass is to be found in the forest. We were curious to know why these dolls’ houses had been erected, and to satisfy our inquiries the natives explained their object. After the death of the old chief of the tribe, it appeared, his shade repeatedly broke the repose of the newly-appointed leader by coming to complain that now there was no place for him to abide in, and he was a stranger in his own village. Wearying of these visits, and possibly sympathizing with the homeless phan- tom in his plight,. the new chief at last called together the village elders to see what could be done. Finally, after long and earnest consultation, it was decided to build for the spirit the two little houses we had seen. These quaint “ghost houses” are seen in the next photograph. On their comple- tion goats were sacrificed and was put in the houses, part thrown into the river, and the remainder eaten. Pressed on the point, the men naively admitted that the latter por- tion included ‘most of the flesh.” This ceremony over, the villagers informed the shade that he must now be content and allow the new chief to sleep in peace. They THE ITURI RIVER. (Phot IN CENTRAL AFRICA. 53 } had provided him with a house for himself and one for his guests, as well as with a good feast ; it was now his turn to do what he could for them by ward- ing off accidents from those crossing the river. Since that day, as soon as a caravan is seen to ap- proach the opposite bank, the natives carry a little offering to the house of the spirit and warn him that his protection is needed, lest he fail in his duty to guard the crossing. These natives, by the way, were most careful to provide accommodation for the spirits of the departed. In the village almost every house had one or two little conical-roofed huts close by, so that the shades of the dead could find a shelter at any moment, without disturbing the rest of their living relations. At the time of my visit some buffaloes and elephants fed nightly on the crops of the villagers, who pressed me to shoot: one or two of the animals for them. While strolling round in the evening I discovered a herd of elephants in some dense undergrowth, but the two I could see were cows, and I refused to shoot at one of the others on the off-chance of it being a bull. Night was falling as I drew near the guest- house where I had taken up my quarters, and as I approached a weird sight met my eyes. A RESIDENCE FOR THE SVIKIT OF A DEPARTED CIIEF—IN KETURN FOR THIS ACCOMMODATION THE SMIRIT IS EXPECTED TO SAFRGUARD TRAVELLERS CROSSING THE STREAM. From a Pheto.

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54 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ring of women, their faces smeared with ashes, were slowly dancing in a flickering fire- light, a couple of drums, beaten monotonously, marking the time. In response to my men’s inquiries, the natives explained that a caravan had a few days before been attacked in the forest by the pygmies, who, with their tiny poisoned arrows, had slain four men and a woman. One of the victims belonged to the village, and this was his death-dance, which, with short pauses at long inter- vals, would be continued for several days. One movement I witnessed was strangely pathetic. After a pause the drums began to throb gently, and the women threw them- selves in a_ semicircle on their knees, with their ears to the ground, as though intently listening for the far-away ghost-voices of the slain. As the silence of the night settled on the rest of the village, the plaintive wailing of the women and the rise and fall of the drum-beats rang out in the still air with remark- able effect. Each time more dead wood was cast on the fires, tongues of flame leapt upwards to light the dark forms solemnly swaying to the slow, barbaric music of the drums. Next morning, when my caravan started on its march, the dance was still in progress, nor did the 5 A cukious “ From a Photo, * PERFORMED BY WOM. (Photo. women show the least sign of fatigue. A phase of this curious performance is depicted in the lower snap-shot. The next hamlet we reached was typically sylvan, with a cluster of rectangular huts, whose leaf-thatched roofs, bound down with withes, were, at a little distance, peculiarly reminiscent of Swiss chalets. In the evening two pygmies were brought in from their encampment to see me. Both had decorated themselves in my honour. One, the local chief, a little, thick- set man with _a light chocolate-coloured skin, flaunted a red muslin loin-cloth and pugaree, while his companion —a_ darker, smaller man—had donned a blue kilt. The chief was evidently rather uneasy in his mind as to my in- tentions, for the news had spread through the forest that a white man had shortly before carried away pygmies from Irumu. While I spoke my visitor furtively watched my every movement, but, through the interpreter, I managed to con- vince him that I was not in quest of pygmies, but of forest beasts, to- whose haunts I wanted him to guide me; that I would pay him for each day’s service, and would give him a present for every animal killed. Gradually his confidence grew stronger, till when he left he was laughing heartily. In the morning I was up before dawn, and had started along the track ere my new guides joined me.

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SPORT AND ADVENTURE IN CENTRAL AFRICA. 33 my Jeffery ‘yoo, I advanced step by step, trying to avoid rustling the big arum - like leaves and to pierce the gloom of the forest, for the day was dull and cloudy. Some idea of the difficulty of moving noiselessly may be gained from the following photograph, showing the tangled vegetation. Presently a vista opened out among the trees, and at a dis- tance of less than sixty yards the light fell on a big elephant with long, curving tusks, stand- ing side-on, with his head turned in my direction. At the moment I caught sight of him he was swinging round to make straight for me, and quick as a flash I fired both barrels in rapid succession at the s : animal’s head. Before I had From a} MAJOR POWELL-COTTON AND HIS PYGMY HUNTERS. (Photo, Seized the second rifle he was down. The bullet had appa- When they at length took up the lead, the pace rently only touched the edge of his brain, was a good four miles an hour, and broke every for the unfortunate beast made a violent now and then into a trot. The picture re- struggle, breaking up several of the trees around produced above shows me with my queer little him, before a couple of shots at the back of companions. Leaving the main path, we turned off to the right through an out- lying plantation, in which, as in all the forest clearings, the trunks had been left to cumber the ground just as they fell. Along the game paths—where, except for an oc- casional fallen tree, the way was easy—we espied some elephant tracks. Soon a sound of crackling branches told us the beasts were feeding close by, and we peered about trying to make out their forms. Suddenly a cow moved out from behind a big tree close in front of us, and while we were beating as silent a retreat as possible, to avoid alarming her, another elephant ap- peared in a hollow to our right. Only part of its head was visible above the high undergrowth, as it waved its trunk in the air, trying to get our wind. Every moment T expected it would charge, but after taking a few hesitating steps towards us it turned tail and crashed its way along the hollow, the others joining it in its flight. The pygmy chief, after listening intently for a minute or two, turned to me and explained by signs that I would find the herd gathered together not far ahead; but I must be full of caution. Then, stepping back, he waved me on, with my faithful Nubian gunbearer behind me. Armed with THE TANG! BD VEGETATION OF THR FOREST MADR NOISELESS MOVEMENT From a} IN APPKOACHING GAME VERY DIFFICULT. [PAoto.

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56 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the head put him out of his pain. According to my men, as soon as I fired both pygmies took to their heels, but the crash of the falling beast soon reassured them, and they crept back. In less than an hour a band of over twenty pygmies, with six of their wives, assembled on the spot. They were led by a musician, who put his whole soul into a noisy performance on a fearsome instrument shaped like a horn and carved from an elephant’s tusk. Each man, clad in a diminutive loin-cloth and carrying no arms, saluted as he came up. When all were mustered I suggested that they should assist in the cutting up of the meat, and when my men had taken a share they should fall to on their own account. This was immediately agreed to, and a boy was dispatched for a sheaf of short- shafted spears with formidable iron heads. Kagerly seizing them, the little people sharpened the edges on flat pieces of stone, and were soon busy cutting off great strips of skin and chunks of meat. It was not long before a company of Mongwana also put in an appearance, followed close on their heels by my own men, all of whom threw themselves at once into the work. As the excitement grew, first one and then another pygmy would break the shaft of his spear to make his weapon easier to handle in the press. They were cheery, good-tempered workers, in contrast to their alleged mental Fes > superiors, the Mongwana ; among whose ranks constant squabbles broke out over some morsel choicer than the rest. As I pressed on farther into the forest, the pygmies showed more confidence in me and my caravan, and constantly came into camp. Their settlements, many of which I visited, consisted of rude huts, built round an irregular clearing in the forest. A typical pygmy village is depicted in the next photograph. The huts were merely constructed of a few pliant sticks thrust into the ground, bent into a rough framework, and covered with the large arum-like leaves so plentiful in the forest. In one of their villages the chief showed me with pride his bed, constructed in the open before his hut. It was formed of four stakes driven into the ground, with an equal number of horizontal poles lashed to the upper ends. From these hung an elaborate network of raw hide, the whole forming a species of hammock. In another hamlet a specially low hut caught my eye, which the inhabitants explained was built for the children, who all slept together. The pygmy household treasures are few and simple ; the chief of them are earthen cooking- pots, in which the game they catch is boiled, skin, bone, and all; softened hides as sleeping- mats ; slings for the babies ; little strips of bark cloth (almost the only article manufactured by — From a) A TYPICAL PYGMY VILLAGE—THE HUTS ARE CONSTRUCTED OF STICKS AND COVERED WHTH LEAVES. [Photo

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SPORT AND ADVENTURE IN CENTRAL AFRICA. 57 THE HEIGHT OF PYGMY LUXURV—THE CHIEF'S RED (ON LEFT), MADE. OF POLRS AND STRIPS OF HIDF. From a Photo, themselves) ; wooden honey-boxes capped with skin ; and gourds for water. Among the men, the tallest seldom reached my shoulder, while many of them barely came up to my elbow. The accompanying photograph shows an interesting comparison in heights. Their usual clothing is a little piece of bark cloth, held in place, back and front, by a string round the waist. Their principal weapons are diminu- tive bows and arrows —some of pointed wood, hardened in the fire, others with beautifully - worked iron heads of dif- ferent patterns. These are almost in- variably poisoned. A short spear and a knife complete their outfit for hunting or war. ‘They are fond of shaving their heads in fantastic patterns, and daubing their faces and bodies with red_and white clays. From a) Vol. xx.—8, ‘their simple ornaments. A STUDY IN STATURF—THF CENTRE MAN 1S A PYGMY; THR OTHER TWO MEMBERS OF DIFFEKENT TRINES, An okapi-skin belt—similar to that worn by the man on the right in the first picture on the next page—bracelets and anklets of pigs’ bristles, and dried seeds, berries, or nuts from the forest are The women’s clothing, still scantier than that of the men, is often supplemented, for a visit tothe white man’s camp, by bunches of jeaves thrust into the girdle; but their ornaments are more elaborate, consisting of beads, wire, and strings of strange charms. The babies, with their tiny, plump bodies and wrinkled, careworn little faces, are slung on their mothers’ backs, or over one hip, in a band of softened hide. A pygmy’s life is divided between his town and country residence, as it were. The former consists of an encampment close to the planta- (tote. tions of the particular

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38 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. A GROUP OF PYGMIFS—THE M From a) ON THE RIGHT IS WEARING AN OKAPI-SKIN BELT. (Photo, chief, generally Mongwana or Babila, whose protection his tribe have sought for the time being. Here the life is one of ease and plenty, for the chief often gives them the run of an abandoned garden stocked with bananas and sweet potatoes. An occasional day's chase relieves the monotony. When the wet season is over, or the honey harvest comes round, they again move out into the depths of the forest and resume their regular {Photo. hunting, or climb the trees, lithe as monkeys, to rob the wild bees of their store. A pygmy’s favourite method of capturing beasts is to hang nets along a game path and drive the animals into them, but less frequently they will steal up to an unsuspecting beast and plunge a spear into its body. Nearly every day a live duiker caught in the net, or a pot of honey, is sent in to the chief, in payment for fruits and vegetables already received and still to come. They are born trackers and are familiar with the peculiarities and habits of every forest beast—its food and its ‘favourite haunts. When once I had gained their confidence they were pleased enough to work with me in return for their two favourite delicacies, tobacco and salt, while the gift of (Photo. Areal A VYGMY DANCE, a few yards of cloth or a string or two of beads for their women make these generally silent little folk chatter with delight. But, like all natives unaccustomed to regular employment, after a few days they would become restless and make every conceivable excuse to return to their settlements. As soon as their store of tobacco and salt was done, however, back they would come, glad enough to earn more. Dancing enters almost as much into their life as hunting. Besides the usual native dances to celebrate a war, a marriage, or a death, they have others peculiar to themselves. In one of these a hunt is enacted, from the quest of the animal and the discovery of its footprints to a mimicry of its habits, the chase, its capture, its death, and the feast that follows. As in the hunts, men, women, and children take their part in the dances, which are continued for hours on end. (Zo be continued.)

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THE ABDUCTION OF ROBERT ABBOTT. 3 By THE Rev. F. CowLey WHITEHOUSE. This narrative, exclusively prepared for ‘The Wide World,” gives an authoritative account of the kidnapping by brigands of Robert Abbott, a member of one of the best-known familiés in the Near East. The story is particularly interesting as showing with what apparent ease and impunity the miscreants are able to carry out their lawless schemes. we | RIGANDAGE is not indigenous to | any one particular clime or country. §| It breaks out even in highly civilized communities, but in the Turkish empire it occurs in a more virulent form than in most other parts of the habitable globe. During the last fifteen years more than one hundred thousand liras must have been paid to redeem captives. ‘Now and again the brigands have been cap- tured in turn and made to pay a heavy penalty for their misdeeds, but this is the hazard of war, and their misfortunes have not deterred others from following a calling which, though attended with certain risks, offers big prizes to daring and successful speculators. No sure preventive has yet been dis- covered. Great things were hoped of the Macedonian gendarmerie established. three years ago, but so far the results have not been com- mensurate with the expenditure. The European officers are not in- vested with full executive powers. They advise, they organize, they reconstruct ; but, with the Moslem officials determinedly, though secretly, antagonistic, they have little chance of effecting definite reforms in the distressful country. In the meantime brigandage flourishes exceed- THE HOUSE OF KOBERT ABBOTT'S PATHE From a Photo. ingly. Sometimes the brigands are political agents, as in the case of Miss Stone, the American missionary. She was abducted by Bulgarian brigands in the Serres district, and the large suni—over twenty thousand liras— which was paid for her ransom was undoubtedly used to replenish the Bulgarian war-chest. Sometimes the brigands are members of the THE. BKITISH CONSULATE AT SALONICA, WHICH STANDS IN MR. ABBOTT'S GROUNDS. From a Photo, criminal class, and they generally demonstrate this fact by the cruelty they practise towards those who fall into their hands. Mr. P. Wills, an official in the employ of the Turkish Tobacco Monopoly, was shockingly maltreated by the members of the band who took him prisoner at Lake Ohrida in the Monastir vilayet (province). Fail- ing to obtain the six thousand liras demanded, the miscreants cut off his left ear, and then con- fined him for over a month in a grain-bin, the measurements of which were not more than nine feet long by three feet wide. Little wonder was it that erysipelas super- vened, and that when the victim was finally allowed to escape he was in a deplorable state from a skin disease, and emaciated to the last degree by the sufferings he had undergone. In the last recorded coup effec- ted in the Salonica vilayet the transactions were, it is believed,

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60 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. purely commercial. The victim was young Robert Abbott, a member of the best-known family in Salonica. The Abbotts are large landed proprietors, and are interested in various commercial and mining ventures. Documents in their possession show that they were settled in Turkey at least two hundred and fifty years ago.- The first of the family to leave England came out as a member of the famous old Levant Company, and in those days men came out to stay. A visit to England in a sailing vessel was a serious under- taking, and frequently the merchants, once they left. their native land, never returned to its shores again. The Abbotts, like many other members of the Levant Company, intermarried with Greeks, and in the course of time, owing to the entire lack of Anglican ministrations, adopted the Greek Orthodox faith. They have retained their English name and nationality, but have become entirely Greek in religion, and partly Greek by the admixture of blood. In the upbringing of the family, however, they have endeavoured to follow the best English traditions. The children are tended by English nurses and educated by English governesses. The present head of the family is an old Cambridge man. _ His wife was a member of a well-known Constantinople family, and there are three children, the eldest of whom, Robert, is the subject of this story. ‘Twelve years ago, when he was about six years of age, Robert suffered from an attack of diphtheria. Unfortunately, the malignant disease took an abnormal course, attacking his head to such an extent that he completely lost his sense of hearing, and almost entirely the power of speech. Every possible palliation of his infirmity has been sought. A gover- ness taught him lip-read- ing, and succeeded in showing him how to articu- late sufficiently to make himself with — difficulty understood in Greek and English. He can read and write in three languages, and acts as his father’s book - keeper. Endowed with a bright and happy temperament, he is able, in spite of his heavy afflic- tion, to take an abound- ing interest in life. A fine, sturdy young fellow, over five foot ten in height, he rejoices in all forms of ete sport, and is frequently to From a} be seen, gun on shoulder and dog at heel, pass- ing through the strects of Satonica on his way to the mountain-side. Salonica stretches its lazy length along the north coast of the gulf of the same name, and the Abbotts’ house is a large, old-fashioned residence at the east end of the town. It is close to the sea, and the garden intervenes between the house and the main road, along which runs a tramway. The garden is shady with trees, a fine avenue running from the house to the entrance-gates. Mr. R. Windham Graves, Consul-General of Salonica, lives in a house in the grounds, where also is situated a private chapel and presbytery, besides stables and several cottages for gardeners and_ other dependents. On the evening of March 27th last Robert Abbott went -out after dinner to visit some friends at the west end of the town, a thing he was accustomed to do two or three times a week. At about ten o'clock he started to return and jumped on the tram which runs past his father’s house. At the entrance -gates he alighted, and the tram-conductor and a gendarme who was going farther east saw him open the gate and proceed up the avenue towards the house. It was a dark night, the rain beating down heavily and the wind whistling dismally. Just inside the gate on the right-hand side is a thick clump of trees. As the lad passed this spot he felt a touch upon his shoulder. Turning sharply round, imagining that someone was intending to play a joke upon him, he looked into the darkness, but the next moment realized that mischief was afoot, for a band of men sprang out of the gloom and endeavoured THE SCENE OF ROBERT ABBOTT'S ENCOUNTER WITH THE RRIGANDS, [ Photo.

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THE ABDUCTION to throw him to thé ground. Young Abbott, however, was not prepared to give in without a struggle. With sturdy pluck he faced his assail- ants, and led off with a beautiful half-arm punch, which landed on the spot aimed at—the point of the jaw of the foremost of the heroes who The recipient of the blow, were attacking him. OF ROBERT ABBOTT. 61 When the scrimmage was at an end the brigands were greatly embarrassed to find that the first man who had been knocked out was still senseless. His companions did not know what to do. They could not carry him with them, and they could not leave him behind. They accordingly withdrew into the clump of trees, “HR LED OFF WITH A BEAUTIBUL ILC ROME FONCH, QOH DAS RD ON THR SPOL AIMED AT.” in the words of the poet, “Curled up on the floor, And the subsequent proceedings interested him no more.” The odds were, however, somewhat too heavy, and after a game struggle Robert was thrown to the ground. Here he lashed out with his feet, and temporarily incapacitated another brigand by a lusty drive in the stomach. Yet another man, who was making desperate efforts to fix a gag in position, incautiously inserted a finger in the young fellow’s mouth, and a strong pair of jaws closed hard on the digit, and proceeded to chew vigorously. A month later that finger was still in no very satisfactory condition. So young Abbott continued the fight, but suddenly a cloth was pressed down over his face. He was conscious of an unpleasant odour, and then his senses deserted him. He thinks chloro- form must have béen used, as he afterwards discovered that he had no severe bruises upon him, and suffered from sickness for two or three days. and worked for nearly an hour before they were able to bring him round. It has been urged that the Turkish officials must have connived at the abduction. The caracole, or police-station, is only about sixty or seventy paces away from the spot where the strugyle took place, and it is certainly hard to imagine that the police on duty neither heard nor saw anything that went on. On the other hand, it must be remembered that it was a very wild night, and also that friends were even closer than the police—the priest in the presby- tery and the gardeners in the cottages, and they certainly failed to hear anything. When the captive came to his senses he found that he had been blindfolded. He was set on his feet and, supported by a man on either side, was hurried along at a great pace for a long time. He has only a hazy recollection of all that happened after the fight. The chloroform, or whatever drug was used, had muddled his brain, and, being blindfolded and stone deaf, he

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62 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE, had only the sense of touch from which to receive impressions of outer things. He was still in a drowsy and somnolent state when a halt was made at a house. He was led within and bidden to lie down. A rug was thrown over him and he fell into a heavy slumber. Where the house was he has no idea. It may have been close to the town of Salonica, or it may have been ten or twelve miles away. After some hours he was roused, and again compelled to set forth on another long walk. Hour after hour he was led along, and finally came to the place where he was fated to spend a captivity of nearly forty days. Here for the first time since his capture the bandage was taken off his eyes. He found him- self in a small room, the windows of which had boards nailed over them. A common oil lamp, burning dimly, showed him that the walls and floor of his prison chamber were covered with hassir, or grass matting. The reason of this was obviously that he should not be able later to identify the place of his imprisonment. ‘The ceiling was of rough, unpainted woodwork, and from this the captive assumed that he was in some farmhouse or villager’s cottage. Night and day he was guarded by two jailers, who took great precautions to provide against future identification. ‘hey wore false beards and moustaches, their caps were drawn down over their ears, and they wound thick mufflers round their throats. ‘They were very dark-skinned men, and their habits were unclean to the last degree. Abbott spoke to them in Greek, and succeeded in making them understand a good deal of what he said. He was unable to under- stand their replies, however, owing to the fact that their lips were hidden by the false hair they - wore. One of the men, therefore, wrote his replies on young Abbott’s visiting cards, and from the writing and the phrasing of the sentences the lad concluded that the brigands were Albanians. The captive continued to suffer from almost continuous nausea, and at last the jailers sent to summon the chief of the band. This worthy came and, having felt the patient’s pulse and looked at his tongue, declared that the trouble would soon pass, and ordered him to be rubbed with vinegar. ‘The following day the sickness passed away, and for the rest of his captivity Robert Abbott enjoyed his ordinary good health. He was kindly treated and weil ted. He complained that he could not smoke the tobacco which was brought to him, and was accordingly supplied with cigars, which he pro- nounced to be “ quite decent.” The same two jailers continued to guard him, and never left the room in which he was con- fined. ‘The food was prepared elsewhere, and brought to the door ready cooked. The prisoner could form no idea as to the number of men in the house, but he noticed that his guards were very nervous of sudden noises. ‘They took away his boots on the plea that they creaked when he walked, but it is possible that they did so to make certain that he would be unable to escape. They also forbade him to talk out loud, but there was some difficulty in enforcing this command, as, owing to his deaf- ness, Robert Abbott is unaware whether he is articulating in a whisper or in a loud voice. Once he had a long and severe fit of coughing ; in the middle of it his jailers snatched up a cloth and flung it over his head to deaden the sound. ‘he conclusion to be arrived at from this was that there were houses near, and twat in all probability the inmates did not know that there was a prisoner so close to them. Elaborate precautions were used to keep the secret. A series of countersigns were arranged, and one day there was great excitement. A man came and knocked at the door, and was unable to give the password. The jailers were evidently in a great fright. They snatched out their revolvers and trembled with apprehension. It turned out, however, that the new-comer was a member of the band, but having been away for a few days had not been in a position to find out the countersign for the day. For a fortnight young Abbott led a deadly monotonous life. To one of his temperament the gloomy room, deprived of sufficient ventila- tion, and the days and weeks of complete in- activity were a sore trial. At the end of the fortnight he was compelled to write a series of letters to his father, informing him that a ransom of twenty-five thousand liras was being demanded, and giving full instructions how the brigands were to be approached and how the money was to be paid. One of these letters was picked up in the Abbotts’ garden at Salonica, and one or twocame to Mr. Abbott through the Austrian post-office. On receipt of these communications Mr. Abbott, acting in conjunction with Mr. Graves, the Consul-General, and with the knowledge of the Turkish officials, sent out a messenger to parley with the brigands. The man who under- took this task was the steward of one of the Abbott estates, Vanghel Theochari by name. For the space of three weeks this devoted emissary went backwards and forwards, in storm and calm, carrying on the negotiations. He did so at the risk of his life, for at no time are the mountains around Salonica ea ee

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THE ABDUCTION OF ROBERT ABBOTT. very safe. But Vanghel thought not of himself. He succeeded in getting into touch with the brigands, and started bargaining with them for a reduction in the amount of the ransom claimed. Gradually they came down in their demands until it was a question of fifteen thousand liras. Below this they would not go. It was clear that they intended to exact this sum, and, in doing so, they were following a well-established precedent. This was the sum paid as the ransom for Suter, an English Mining engineer, twenty years ago, and also for Chevalier, a Frenchman, seven or eight years ago. The brigands became impatient ; they threat- ened that harm would come to their captive if they were kept waiting. any longer, and it became evident that nothing was to he gained by further delay. Mr. Graves and Mr. Abbott accordingly determined to send Vanghel to inform the brigands that the money would be paid on a certain night at a place agreed upon. On the evening of the 25th of April the large sum was secretly drawn from the Otto- man Bank by the Consul - General, and conveyed to the con- sulate. It was neces- saty to maintain: the strictest secrecy in the affair, as, if it had be- come- known that so many thousands were going out into the mountains that night, a plot might have been formed by another band to get possession of the gold. The heavy packages, well over two hundred pounds in weight, were loaded on three pack- horses, and Vanghel and four armed men set forth on their ex- pedition. One of the men was a Govern- ment official, but he was disguised as a bektji, or night watchman. He went in case any of the mountain police should be encoun- tered and troublesome questions asked. Not far from the town the guardians of the gold were met by some of the brigands, and after a march of one hour and a half the rest of the band, headed by the chief, put in an appear- ance. The messengers counted twenty-five 1D TO THR RRIGANDS IS SERN IN THK ABOVE GROUP STANDING AT ABBOTT'S LEFT HAND, From a Photo. THE MAN WHO CARRIED THE GC 63 men. Previously Vanghel had met them in bands of five, ten, or twelve, but never in such numbers as on this night. The brigands led away the horses and proceeded to count the gold. The chief entered into friendly con- versation with Vanghel. “Your chellabi” (master), he said, “took a long time to pay this money.” “Of course,” replied Vanghel; ‘do you think my chellabi is so rich that he can find fifteen thousand liras in a day? He is not a rich man, and you are turning him into a poor one.” Vanghel did not think it necessary or ex- pedient to inform the brigand that the British Government was finding the money. ‘““Never mind,” responded the brigand, con- solingly ; “remind your che//adéi that this money will make the happiness of many poor families. That will be a comfort to him.” The outlaw evidently was not without a sense of humour. ‘The money was found to be correct, and the messengers were dismissed with the assurance that the captive would be restored safe and well in the course of a day or two. With this promise Vanghel and his men had perforce to be satisfied. An evening or two later Robert Abbott was visited by the chief. “Your ransom has been paid and you are free,” he announced. The young fellow read the message on the man’s lips, but refused to believe that it was true. When his boots were restored to him, however, he began to think that possibly the day of freedom was really dawning. He had to submit to his eyes being bandaged again, and this time, to ensure complete blindness, wads of cotton-wool were placed under the handkerchief. Throughout the night the brigands marched him across the country. Early in the morning they removed the bandage in order that he might see to eat his breakfast. He found he was ina hollow, but the men stood around him with their cloaks spread out in such fashion that he could see nothing but the grass at his feet and the

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64 tree-tops overhead. Immediately after his meal was ended the bandage was replaced over his eyes, and he was bidden to lie down and sleep. ‘Towards evening the march was resumed, and a halt was not called until near midnight. The bandage was finally removed and the prisoner was told he was free. ‘The men crowded around him with friendly words, the chief kissed his hand, and the other members of the band followed his, example. They gave him to under- stand that hence- forth he was free to wander at will over the mountains, and that no one would do him harm. ‘They pointed out to him what direction he was to take, bidding him keep the moon on his left side, and they told him that when he gained the crest of a hill they pointed out he would know where he was. A gun was offered to him, but he refused to take it, deeming that he would be safer without it. With eager haste Robert climbed to the top of the hill, and there, lying below him, he saw the lights of Salonica twinkling and glowing in the distance. Filled with joy, he started in a bee- line for home and happi- ness, And _ then he received a shock, for he became conscious that he was being followed by two men. They kept a short distance behind him, but it was evident that they MAGAZINE. THE WIDE WORLD “PP WAS EVIDENT THAT THRY Wim DOGGING HIS FOOTSTEPS,” aroused the priest. EE Hs eS POE bs ROBERT ARBOTT—A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN FIVE DAYS AFTER HIS RELEASE. were dogging his foot- steps. It was dread- ful to feel that he might be attacked again, and to know that this time he would probably be murdered for the sake of the few trifles he had on his person. With beating heart he hurried on, and did not feel safe until he entered the streets of Salonica. It came out after- wards that the two men were Turk- ish guards, who thought the stranger was young Abbott returning to his father’s house, but considered it advisable to see him safely back into the town. On entering the avenue from which he had been abduc- ted Robert Abbott turned aside to the presbytery and The latter came out in a state of greqt excitement, and was entrusted with the joyful task of going to break the news of their son’s return to the anxious parents in the house. ‘Thus, after thirty- eight days’ captivity, Robert Abbott was re- leased and restored to his family. The British Govern- ment has formally de- manded the fifteen thou- sand liras from the ‘Turks, and it is to be hoped that the British taxpayer will not remain responsible for the payment. It is pos- sible that the Turkish authorities, however, may make some such philoso- phical answer to England as the brigand chief made to the faithful Vanghel Theochari.

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With Camera and Canoe in the “Everglades.” By Junian A. Dimock. A chatty description of a trip across that unexplored region of Florida known as the ‘“ Ever" glades,” a labyrinth of weed - choked streams and semi - tropical vegetation. Mr. Dimock and_ his companions accomplished a journey never previously made by a white man, and his excellent photographs lend additional interest to the narrative. the unexplored —lay before me. From the head of Harney’s River I looked out upon them and, instead of an interminable stretch of impene- trable saw-grass, beheld a multitude of islands, so many that only here and there could the horizon be seen. From a look-out in a tree the eye could follow the courses of three “ bonnet ”- choked streams for several miles. Tentatively we pushed ahead with the skiff, but the grass, clinging to the sides of the boat, held it back. Hard work, we decided, would rob the trip of much of its romance, and so we substituted for the heavier craft our little Canadian canoe, which passed through the obstructions easily. I had been in the wildernesses of the north, the west, and the south, but nowhere had I found adventure. Here, at last, in these practically unknown swamps, it seemed within my reach, and I determined to become an explorer ! HE “Everglades ”—the mysterious, — The “baby” (as the canoe was called, from the canvas cover which she wore as a protection from the tropical sun) was outfitted with camera equipment, lunch, rifle, poles, and paddles, and early the next morning the two hunter-boys and T left the big boat. For five hours we pushed in a northerly direction, straight toward the heart of this watery land ‘of mystery. The sloughs were open and continuous, branching and coming together again, but always leaving an open way. Poling and paddling were both easy, the limestone rock which formed the bottom giving a secure hold for the pole—some- times too secure, as it would occasionally catch in some crevice, with disastrous result to the poler. Such accidents were invariably announced by a big splash as the man went overboard, for my assistants had been drilled for months. to keep the camera dry at any cost. To recover the pole from the canoe was to risk a capsize, while to fall overboard after it was only to get wet. ia THE MEAD OF HARNRV'S RIVER—THE AUTHOR AND HIS PARTY WENT UP THIS STREAM TO FXPLORE THE ‘ EVERGLADES,” From a Phote, Vol xx —9.

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66 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “BONNETS,” A KIND OF WATER-LILY, CHOKE THE STREAMS AND RENDER NAVIGATION DIFFICULT FOR ANYTHING LARGER From a) THAN A CANOE. (Photo. By noon we were probably thirty miles from interrupted by camera work. The daily showers the Gulf at the mouth of Harney’s River. The of the rainy season were around us, and the character of the ’Glades had not changed. cloud effects were becoming propitious. Ground They were thickly stud- ded with islands; the rock continued from one to’ five feet below the surface, covered with a varying depth of mud averaging perhaps eigh- teen inches ; there were fish in the waters and birds in the air. As we pushed to a group of trees, hoping to find land enough on which to make a fire for lunch, I men- tally determined to bring my fiancée here in order that she might be the first of her sex to pene- trate this region. But pre- sently, when we reached the trees, I received a shock. The land was there—a square yard of it —and carved on one of the tree trunks was a name—K—A—T—E! The return trip was A YOUNG EVERULADITE—A BABY BLUE HERON, for setting up the tripod, however, was absent. Sometimes this could be remedied by standing in the water and holding the camera on my head, while the boys in the canoe furnished the “ human- interest” foreground. When the mud and water were too deep for this performance we brought branches and brush from the nearest island and piled them on the bottom until the footing was fairly solid. Once it happened that one of the branches _was the home of a colony of big ants, and as I stood unhappily upon it, balancing a heavy camera on my head, I realized to my dismay that the vicious little pests were retreating up my trouser-legs, biting as they came.

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1 | f | i WITH CAMERA AND CANOE IN THE “EVERGLADES.” 67 Presently the usual deluge overtook us. The camera was wrapped in rubber blankets to shield it from the falling torrents, and, as the downpour continued, I lifted it to my knees to protect it from the rising flood in the bottom of the canoe. As I was acting as ballast, however, I was forced to retain my seat in the water. The horizon was a matter of rods away, but we still pushed ahead, I fervently wishing for the compass which the boys had scorned in the morning. When we neared the edge of the ’Glades the land- marks which had distinguished the head of the Scribe preparing: supper for one, as he had supposed that we intended to spend the night in the ’Glades. He and I then planned to cross the Everglades to Miami. The ’Glades and the Cypress Swamp border- ing them have long been favourite hunting- grounds with the Seminole Indians. Theré the hungry could find echu (venison) and the hunter add to his stock of otter skins and alligator hides. During the Seminole war it became their sanctuary. Their long, narrow cypress dug-outs crept through the thick grass easily THIS 1S NOT A SNAP-SHOT ON THE PRAIRIE, BUT A TYPICAL “ KVERGLADK ” LANDSCAPE, SHOWING THE AUTHOR'S CANOE BEING ‘rom a) FURCKD THROUGH A WILDERNESS OF SAW-GRASS. (Pioto. river in the morning were duplicated by every clump of trees in sight. The boy in the bow recognised those to the south, while the one in the stern swore by those to the north. I was ballast, as I have said, and had no opinion on the matter. We went to the north, after much argument. Needless to say we should have gone south, and paid for our mistake by having to cross through a stretch of heavy saw-grass. To accomplish this all hands clamhered over- board, and we pushed the canoe through ahead of us by main force. We reached the big boat at dusk, finding the and quictly without leaving a trail that the white man could follow. To them the sloughs were as city streets— named and marked at every corner. The few habitable islands were known to them, and they could find their way to them in the dark. On these islets, inaccessible to the soldiers, they raised crops of corn, squash, and tannia, and left their families in safety while the warriors went out to fight. With birds and deer, turtle, fish, and snails for food they were independent of the white man. Their belief in the existence of a huge serpent, several hundred feet long,

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68 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. CR rE rat aS rene aa ad From a} which was supposed to inhabit the Everglades, only made them feel the more guarded in their retreat. When the. soldiers sought to follow these elusive savages, the heavy loads of equipment and provisions which they were forced to carry limited the range of their expeditions, while the pathlessness of this uncharted waste preyed upon their spirits. They returned with tales of hardships and with stories of mysterious creatures that were heard at night. ‘Iheir imagina- tions ran riot, and it was easy for the ignorant and the superstitious to believe the weirdest of tales about this unexplored — region, and hence it has remained to this day a place of mystery. It was several months after my first trip that we left the navigable head of Harney’s River and _ set our faces toward the rising sun, leaving behind us all known landmarks. — Be- side the Scribe and the camera - man, our party consisted of a Floridian friend and the two boys from our houseboat. From a) THE RXPLORFRS TRAVERSING OPEN WATER. CROCUDILES ARE OCCASIONALLY MET WIT (Photo. Only three parties had crossed this trackless waste before us. One had traversed the ex- treme northern end, one had bisected the region longitudinally, and one had entered from Harney’s River. Each had returned with tales of hardships, of obstacles that had seemed well-nigh unsurmountable, and at least one had discarded much equipment in the rush for civilization. 2 AND, THOUGH VERY SHY, MAY SOMETIMES BE HARPOUNED, (Photo.

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WITH CAMERA AND CANOE IN THE My own experiences have led me to believe that to be lost in the Everglades is largely a condition of the mind. On the night of my first short trip I had been “lost” within see- ing distance of the big boat, accompanied by two competent hunters, and with the risk confined to the chance of spending an un- comfortable night and the loss of one meal. On the longer trip we did not know where we were, we had no place on which to sleep, and we did not know when we should get out. But we were in the frame of mind of the. Indian: “Injun not lost—Injun here. Wigwam lost.” Guided by the compass, we pushed ahead. From a) The motor-boat towed us through channels of open water, that glistened under the brilliant light of the semi-tropical sun and was studded with beautiful blossoms of the lily. We poled through tracts of saw-grass, and when meal-time came we built a fire as best we Could, sometimes finding a square foot of ground, sometimes building it in the top of a shrub of cocoa-plum. The coffee-pot must be warmed, whatever else went cold. For the site of our first noonday meal we selected a clump of trees that happened to conceal a square rod of dry ground. This was pre-empted by a water moccasin, who watched us at our fire-making with apprehensive eyes. PADDLING THROCGIE THE UNMAFPED WILDERNESS, “EVERGLADES.” 69 We did not seek to kill him—perhaps restrained by some feeling of brotherhood, for in that region living creatures are few and far between. As night approached we explored every clump of trees within the radius of several miles, seeking a dry spot on which to sleep—without success. The Scribe and the Floridian therefore lay down in the bottom of the skiff. One of the boys and I slept in the tiny motor-boat, while the other boy followed the method of our fire- making and built a platform of boughs in a tree top. For my bed I stretched a pair of oars across from gunwale to gunwale, and after a little practice managed to keep my balance and sleep at the same time. (Photo. Just as we had fallen asleep, or what passed- for sleep, the heavens opened and the rains descended. Water fell in solid masses. Stretched on the oars and covered by a rubber blanket, I kept reasonably dry, for the deluge simply poured off the sides of my waterproof cover- ing. But before the Scribe and the Floridian were fairly awake the water covered the bottom of their skiff, and they were drenched to the skin. With the passing of the shower they hastily scrambled into spare outfits of dry cloth- ing. No sooner had they done this than the shower returned, and again they were wet through ! The next day we passed several camping

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70 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. LOOKING FOR DRY LAND WHERRON TO LIGHT THE CaMrs From a\ FIRE Photo. spots of Indian hunters of otter, and when night overtook us we landed upon an island containing a couple of acres of land, cultivated by some Indian family. The camp-fire was still burning, though the owners had departed. As we walked to the field of corn and sugar-cane, squash and tannia, we were greeted by the whirr of a rattlesnake, which seemed appropriate to the surroundings, and we did not seek to kill this guardian of a Seminole home- stead. We helped ourselves, however, to cane and squash, cooking the latter over the camp-fire of its absent owner. As I lay under my mosquito-bar that night the shadows of the wilderness took forms, and out of these the noises of the wilds spoke to me in the language of fear. ‘The whirr of the rattler again sounded in my ear, and my fancy heard the rustling of the leaves as a sinuous body crawled slowly toward my couch. Behind him I heard the slower, heavier movements of a larger reptile. Fascinated, I lay and listened, the sweat of apprehension oozing from every pore of my body. Nearer and still nearer the creatures came! The foremost one was within reach of my hand when he stopped and began to coil. I felt his wicked eyes fixed upon my face, while his forked tongue darted in and out. My limbs were ta Deas Se ee PHOTOGRAPHY UNDER DIFFICULTV—A SNAF-SHUT FROM THE YACHT'S MASINEAD,

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WITH CAMERA AND CANOE IN paralyzed! I could not take my eyes from the spot, and I dared not move! Even as I looked and listened I heard a slower, heavier creature crawling nearer to the first comer. A terrifying hiss broke the silence, and the spell was broken. With a shriek I jumped up, only to find myself in the arms of the Floridian, who cried, angrily, “*Hold on! What in the world are you trying to do?” In the morning I climbed with my camera to the top of a tree. The character of the scene remained the same—a photograph taken ten THE “EVERGLADES.” rhe generally cramped. It was heavy work pushing the motor-boat through the saw-grass, but in the open streams, when the lilies were not thick enough to choke the propeller, we made good progress—surely a strange sight in the heart of a region thought to be well-nigh impenetrable to the white man! From Harney’s River on the west to Miami on the east we occupied four days in making the trip. At the end of the journey we slowly steamed down the Miami River to the haunts of civilization. We could not muster a coat » A VIKW OF THE “ EVERGLADES” FROM A TREE-TOP—CLUMPS OF TREFS, KESEMBLING ISLANUS, OFEN SLUUGHS OF WATER, AND From a) miles from the west side would look exactly like one taken ten miles from the east coast. Clumps of trees, resembling islands from a distance; open sloughs of water, dotted with lilies and stretches of saw-grass, reached far as the eye could see. Our trip from coast to coast was uneventful. The sudden showers sometimes caught us care- lessly unprepared, but in the genial climate one scarcely seeks to avoid a wetting. Our sleeping quarters were uncertain, uncomfortable, and STRETCHES UF SAW-GRASS REACH TO THE HORIZON, (Photo. or a necktie between us, but we dined and slept at one of Miami’s hotels, though, as the boy explained, it couldn’t be a very good one, for the proprietor “forgot to leave a comb and hairbrush in his room.” But nothing mattered very much, for we had crossed the trackless Everglades, and my paddle had carried me where white man had never been before. I was a real live explorer, and the knowledge repaid me for all the discomforts of the trip.

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The Adventures of Mat Salleh. THE “ROB ROY” OF BRITISH By E. Sr. Joun Hart. NORTH BORNEO. A stirring chapter of unwritten history. Mat Salleh was an outlaw and revolutionary who gave the Borneo Chartered Company untold trouble. Time and again his death was reported, but he always came to life again, and. he had a remarkable trick of disappearing completely when apparently trapped, only to reappear at account of some ‘o Rob Roy to Dick Tur- pin and Jack Sheppard, from leaders of armed re- bellion to knights of the road and _jail-breakers, those who have — set themselves in opposition to the established order of things have possessed a certain attraction for the world they defied. This being so, it is worth while briefly to re- cord some of the exploits of the late Mahomed Salleh, a gentleman of British North Borneo, who departed this life somewhat suddenly on the 31st of January, 1900, with a Maxim bullet through his brain. Mat Salleh was some- thing less than a native nobleman and something very much more than a coolie, who married greatly above his station. His father, Hadji Datu Butu, was a chief in the Inanam River district, on the North-West Coast, but Mat Salleh migrated to the East Coast and there married Dyang (Lady) Bandang, who was a third cousin of the pre- sent Sultan of Sulu. Mat Salleh and his bride returned to the @N all ages and among all peoples the law-abiding have manifested a more or less shamefaced but nevertheless keen interest in the doings of the lawless. From Robin Hood and MAT SALLEH, THE BORNEON OUTLAW. lace a hundred miles away. This authoritative narrative gives an the outlaw’s manceuvres and his final dramatic ending. West Coast, which has always given the Govern- ment much trouble, partly by reason of the fact that several of the rivers were not included in the territory ceded to the State, but were owned by independent chiefs, and were greatly used for smuggling arms and gun- powder, and partly because many of the in- habitants are Bajaus, or Sea Gipsies, a brave but intractable people, from whom the old-time pirates were largely recruited. The origin of Mat Salleh’s quarrel with the Government is obscure. He was quick to resent a slight, and being a man with a remarkable personality and great force of character he never had any difficulty in securing adherents, who, as the event proved, were ready to follow him to the death. His per- sonality, a certain charm of manner on occasions, the prestige he earned, and his claim — which for a time seemed justi- fied—to be invulnerable to bullet or knife were the sole secrets of his influence ; for, judged by any standard, he was not handsome or high- born, nor was he a man of great possessions. In 1894 it was reported that two Dyaks had been murdered by his men at or near the Sugut River. Efforts to bring to trial these or other

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THE ADVENTURES offenders whom Mat Salleh sheltered set the ball rolling and started a train of events there is not space even to summarize. Above all things, Mat Salleh exhibited in his career the qualities of diversity and unexpectedness. He was never where he was supposed to be, and he never acted in the manner on which his opponents calculated. When a warrant was granted for his arrest he suddenly turned up in the place whence the warrant was issued, with a plausible story. When he was reported to be assembling a force with hostile intent an expedition against him was stopped in mid-career by the news that he had just taken the oath of obedience on the Koran before the Resident of a distant district. When he was supposed to be hidden in the interior he was found to be inciting the people of Sandakan, the capital, to revolt. If, with infinite pains, a Resident at last located him, he would be a hundred miles farther away by th® time a force to deal with him could reach the spot. When “wanted” in Sandakan he came to Sandakan, but came with three hundred armed men—they must have made a fine sight sweeping into harbour in their fleet of prahus—and proposed interviewing the Governor in their company. On being commanded to disperse, they dispersed, but in the process fell foul of Chinese shopkeepers, looted their shops, and tried to seize OF MAT SALLEH. 73 Finally, a Government force under Messrs. Wise, Hewett, Alfred Jones, Ormsby, Barraut, and Wheatley, travelling in small parties—some parts of the way by sea and others by land—for once turning the tables on Mat Salleh, arrived before Ranau quite unexpected by the enemy. The troops were accompanied by Dyak and Dusun native auxiliaries, some of whom carried firearms, but the majority only Borneon swords and spears. The first care of the expedition, after throw- ing up protective works about their camp, was to endeavour to cut Mat Salleh’s excellent water supply. Then the officers reconnoitred the enemy’s position and were not disagreeably impressed with its strength. Mat Salleh, however, was not only a guerrilla leader of infinite daring and resource, but a master in the art of fortification, and had his opponents fully recognised this fact they would have saved themselves much subsequent regret. The whole fort was some one hundred and twenty yards long by about seventy yards wide, surrounded by a very thick earth wall which made it absolutely impervious to rifle-fire. Out- side of this was a high palisade, while the ground beyond was thickly sewn with swdas—bamboo stakes with sharpened ends, sticking out of the ground like a crop of bayonets. The front end the weapons of the armed pickets. When, as several times happened, the word came in that he was dead, he was sure to contradict the rumour by looting a town, or by some more than usually startling feat of audacity. This, with certain variations, was the history of Mat Salleh’s move- ments for the next four or five years. : In January, 1897, a Government chief — a Sulu Datu, Nakodah ‘Tinggi —found the out- law established in a fort he had built at Ranau, not far from the Inanam River, on the West Coast. Tinggi attacked Ranau for an entire day, but had to retire discomfited, as did Captain Reddie, the then Commandant, who assaulted the place in August. Vol. xx.—10, . “THE OFFICERS RECON- NOITRED THK FNEMY'S POSITION.”

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14 THE of the fort, formerly shelled by Captain Reddie without effect, appeared to be a three-sided stronghold or citadel with a tall watch-tower in the centre, but the other part of the enclosure was full of houses with attap roofs. Judging the kernel by the shell, a plan of attack was agreed upon There is little doubt that Mat Salleh either knew, or correctly guessed, what this plan was, and he must have smiled grimly to himself as he contemplated the inevit- able result. Lang before dawn the attacking force was in posi- tion ; the storming party of some forty Sikhs and Pathans, to be led by Messrs. Wise and Hewett when the right moment came, lay behind the dyke of a paddy-field some thirty yards from the rear of the fort ; the two officers, with Mr. Jones, stationing them- selves in the meantime in the redoubt built for the gun, while Messrs. Barraut and Ormsby encircled the fort at a distance with the Dyaks and Dusuns, num- bering something under three hundred, to prevent the escape of any of the garrison. When the mists rose the bombardment began, _ its uproar being supplemented by the war-yells of the cordon of. Dyaks and Dusuns, while the explosion of each of the thirty shells which burst within the fort was greeted with wild out- cries from the garrison, who must have suffered severely. The only response to the besiegers came from the rifles of three men, one of whom, a Sikh deserter from the British North Borneo Police, tried hard to wing some of the gun’s crew, while the other two discovered and fired on the storming party. After this had gone on for some time the besiegers became unpleasantly impressed by the fact that the fort had suffered no structural damage, and that of their ammuni- tion only three shells remained unexpended. It was therefore determined to begin the assault, and Mr. Jones having insisted on joining the From a) MR. ALFRED JONES, THE OFFICER WHO WAS KILLED IN THE ASSAULT AT RANAU. WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. stormers, he and Mr. Wise went to lead on the Sikhs, who advanced but slowly on account of the sudas, while Mr. Hewett, having fired the last three shells, ran on with Sergeant-Major Natha Singh and caught them up just as they reached the palisade. Here the attackers received a check, and for a time they made vain efforts to effect an entrance. ‘That none of them were shot down while so engaged or during their slow advance across the open might well have excited their suspi- cion, but they seem to have attached no significance to the circumstance. The wall was higher than their heads, but finally they climbed over it, shot down a few of the garrison who were seen to be running towards the citadel, and then commenced burning the houses. These were of the usual flimsy con- struction, and the dried palm-leaf thatch flared like so much paper, but the fire did not spread to the citadel. Under cover of the flames the Sikhs and Pathans, with their white officers, charged ahead for the stronghold. Then they suddenly made the stag- gering discovery that the seemingly three-sided forti- fication was really a four- sided structure—that they were right up against a stone wall of enormous strength and most cun- ningly loopholed. | From this, even as they paused irresolute, such a mur- derous rifle-fire burst forth that in a second fourteen men were writhing on the ground — nearly forty per cent. of the whole strength of the storming-party ! Mr. Jones’s rifle had become jammed before this, and, throwing it away, he had charged with his men, revolver in hand. He was one of the first to fall, a slug-shot wounding him in the foot, while three others penetrated his breast, killing him instantly. Four of the Sikhs were killed outright, and two more died almost immediately of their wounds. At this point the enemy were all invisible behind their (Photo.

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THE ADVENTURES OF MAT SALLEH. 75 impregnable defences, which rifle-fire would not touch, and, as remaining where they were in- evitably meant the immediate wiping out of the whole party, the attackers beat a hasty retreat, carrying with them the body of Mr. Jones and all their wounded, while Mat Salleh’s men filled the air with wild shouts of triumph. But such a death-trap had no power to shake the nerves of the Sikhs and Pathans, who had shown splendid courage and discipline all Wise and Hewett, leaving the other officers and men to hold the camp and patrol the vicinity, hurried to Sandakan, travelling day and night, to give tidings of their repulse and bring up rein- forcements and ammunition. It was nearly a month from the date of the last attack before the guns again spoke to Fort , Ranau, the arrangements being practically the same as on the last occasion, save that for the present there was no talk of attempting to rush “THE ATTACKERS BEAT A HASTY RETREAT, CARRYING WITH THEM THEIR WOUNDED,” through the engagement, and no sooner had they got the wounded outside the palisade than they came to their officers in a body, volun- teering to go in again and make another attempt to capture the place. All hands got back into camp ina downpour of rain, and Mr. Jones was buried just as night was beginning to fall. Then, as the morning discovered the enemy still in possession of his fort, it was concluded that Mat Salleh intended to make his final stand there; and Messrs. the place. Over two hundred shells were fired into the stronghold, but they were not heavy enough to batter it effectively. The night set in with pouring rain, and, fearing the possibility of the enemy attempting to escape, all guards and patrols round the fort were doubled. ‘There was an alarm and much firing for a time about I a.m., occasioned by some Dusuns trying to carry rice into the fort, which then replied spiritedly to the besiegers’ fire. When morning dawned, however, to the utter amazement of all,

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76 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Mat Salleh had again vindicated his reputation for ghostly strategy—the fort was completely deserted! ‘The tracks of the retreating enemy showed that they had passed close to the camp of the Dyaks, who in consequence had difficulty in convincing the rest of the force of their alertness. Mat Salleh disappeared, no man knew whither, but his fort remained and proved to be a place of extraordinary strength. ‘The walls of the buildings in the citadel were of stone eight feet thick, abundantly loop-holed, and it took four hundred men an entire day to dismantle them and convert the whole place into a huge bonfire. The Court of Direc- tors in London had for a considerable time been urging on the local authorities the advisability of trying to negotiate with the out- law, since warlike operations had failed to bring him to reason. Now, deciding to avail themselves of Mr. W. C. Cowte’s unique ex- perience of native character, they sent him to Borneo as their representative, to at- tempt a peaceful solu- tion of the difficulty. Arrived in the country, Mr. Cowie wrote to the outlaw, inviting him to name his own tme and place to dis- cuss terms, and stating that, “as an orang éesar (one in authority) I can assure you that nothing will happen to you or your people if you meet me.” This was accom- panied by a letter from the Sultan of Sulu to Dyang Bandang, Mat Salleh’s wife, reminding her that she had known Mr. Cowie as a child; that her parents had been his friends ; that he, the Sultan, “looked upon him as a father” ; and that his word could be implicitly trusted. These two letters were dispatched by four native messengers, one of whom was a prisoner of war released for the purpose. While awaiting a reply, the Managing Director effected a most important stroke of diplomacy. From the Sultan of Brunei and some of his MR. W. G COWIK, MANAGING DIKECTOR OF THE BRITISH NORTH BORNEO COMPANY, WHO WENT OUT TO NEGOTIATE WITH MAT SALLEH IN PERSON, From a Photo, by G. R. Lambert & Co., Singapore. tributary chieftains, he (Mr. Cowie) obtained the complete and immediate cession of the indepen- dent rivers of the West Coast—Mat Salleh’s chief recruiting-ground—and he also wrote to the outlaw and, after some difficulty, arranged an interview. At this meeting certain concessions and rewards were promised him on proof of good behaviour, but some preposterous demands were absolutely refused, and finally everything was satisfactorily arranged. Subsequently Mat Salleh assisted with his own hands to haul up the company’s flag at the ceremony of taking over the ceded territory, took an oath of allegiance upon the Koran, and finally, on his departure, sent a message that he would rather die by his own hand than break the arrangements en- tered into with Mr. Cowie. This was on April 22nd, 1889, and for over a year there was peace in North Borneo. That Mat Salleh was sincere in his promise to reform there is much reason to believe. But he was galled by the not unnatural suspicion with which he was regarded in some quarters, and his fol- lowers, whom for years he had taught to believe in his claim to invul- nerability to bullet and steel, lusted after the excitement of the war- path and_ ultimately forced his hand. The Tambunans, amongst whom he was quar- tered, soon complained of his exactions, and asked the Government to be protected against him. Upon this he recruited a number of Bajaus, or Sea Gipsies, and soon there came the news that he was fighting and raiding the neighbouring Sousuran tribe as of old. The Resident of an adjacent district sent him a letter by two native messengers to remind him of his promise of good behaviour. The messengers fell in with one of Mat Salleh’s pickets, who greeted them in friendly fashion, and feigning admiration for their weapons— always a susceptible point with Borneons—

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z 1 =f q Lod ee Le he eee we ee \ THE ADVENTURES OF MAT SALLEH. 77 CAPTAIN HARINGTON, WHO COMMANDED THE TROOPS IN THE FINAL OPERATIONS AGAINST THE OUTLAW. From a Photo, by Elliott & Fry. first treacherously disarmed and then brutally murdered them. . This atrocity could not be condoned, and once more the Government forces were ordered out on the war-path—which, by the way, was the occasion of some questions and comments in the House of Commons. This campaign was conducted with a brilliancy that reflected the greatest credit on all concerned. , The British North Borneo forces were now under the command of Captain Harington, who had been in the Jameson Raid, and he had a first-class fighting lieutenant in the person of young Sub-Commandant Dansey, who afterwards did good work in the South African War. Without a moment’s unnecessary delay, Captain Harington concentrated his force at Tambunan. He had with him over two hundred of the armed constabulary, with seven-pounders and a Maxim, and five hundred and fifty trans- port coolies, mostly Tuaran Dusuns, who are themselves keen fighters, in addition to a con- siderable number of Dyak auxiliaries under Mr. Dunlop. Mat Salleh had shown his usual ability in choosing his position near Tambunan. It lay. in a wide bend of the Panghalan River, from which he got his water supply ; and, not content with his own main fort, he had supported it by erecting other forts and fortifying villages, all in the vicinity of a Govern- ment fort named Tembow. So bold and aggressive had the rebels become that they attacked the officers and men while reconnoitring their position, and drove them into their own fort at Tembow, which was then sniped day and night. To obviate this and deprive the snipers of cover, fatigue parties, working under cover of fire from sections detailed for the pur- pose, cut down the surrounding jungle. In the thickest part of it the enemy had laid a nice little trap in the shape of a fully- manned stockade, cunningly concealed. The alert Sub-Commandant Dansey dis- covered this when the enemy hoped he would be attending to something else, how- ever, and drew off his men just in time to prevent them fron being ambuscaded. SUB-COMMANDAKT DANSEY. From a Photo. by F. Pannell.

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78 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Mat Salleh held the main fort, where he personally commanded. His other positions were a stockade held by Bajaus, near Tembow, called the “ Hornets’ Nest”; Latand, a strongly fortified Tegahas village; and Matjator’s Fort, very strongly built on the edge of a precipice on the banks of the river. All these places were within from something over two thousand yards to a few hundred yards of each other, could support one another, and each had to be stormed or reduced separately. As each one was taken Captain Harington established a post soldiers commanding the troops were as bent on war to the bitter end as he, and they had a better force under them than that he had foiled at Ranau. On the roth, after Tebao had been shelled into surrendering, a general advance was made on Latand village with heavy sectional volley firing. Mat Salleh’s ded#/ (brass yun) was here brought into action, but after firing three rounds it burst, killing one Bajau and wounding four others. Dansey ordered the charge to be sounded, and the line swept forward, but was “THE TROOPS CHARGED WITH THE DAVONRT.” on the site, and shifted his guns from one to another as the occasion demanded. The ball opened with an all-day bombard- ment of the “ Hornets’ Nest,” which the Bajaus evacuated during the night. From the gth to the 15th of January, 1900, inclusive, there was continuous fighting, and thence onward, with but little intermission—sometimes continuing through most of the night—to the 31st. Mat Salleh’s pirate-descended Bajaus were plucky to foolhardiness, and he proposed surpassing all his former fighting records; but the young pulled up short by an outer fence of sharpened bamboo, which the men started to cut down with eager haste. The moment the first opening was made, Mr. Fraser and his Javanese boy, Leyman, carrying oil, dashed through and set fire to the nearest roofs outside the inner wall. Then, before they could be stopped, they rushed round to the rear of the fort and ignited the roofs from that point also. The flames, thus kindled from opposite points, spread and met with astonishing rapidity ; in a moment the place was a roaring furnace, and the garrison, seized with sudden

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THE ADVENTURES OF MAT SALLEH. 39 panic, rushed out from their defences, and had then to fight hand to hand with the troops, who charged them with the bayonet, inflicting heavy loss, but themselves having two killed and many wounded. Then Dansey re-formed his men and attacked the forts on Latand Hill, the men advancing slowly in splendid order, firing volleys under cover of very accurate field-gun fire. It was a difficult position to carry, and the stormers were advancing cautiously when from an opposite direction, over the brow of the hill in the rear of the forts, Mr. Dunlop was seen advancing with sixty Dyaks who had not yet joined the force. “Cease Fire” had to be sounded, but so great was the excitement at this unexpected support that, moved by one impulse, officers, Indians, and Dyaks, with wild cheers and war-cries, instantly charged the forts and captured them out of hand, sixty of the enemy being killed in these two attacks alone. It was then too late to attack Piasow, but scarcely had the camp retired to rest than the alarm was sounded, and when the men stood to their arms they beheld the night sky reddened with flames from that fortified village. The rebels, knowing it to be doomed, had set it on fire in order to conceal the number of their dead. The effect of this vigorous fighting was seen in the number of chiefs from neighbouring villages who came in during the next few days to take the oath of allegiance. All the while Mat Salleh’s fort, where the outlaw held out, was kept occupied, while earthworks and trenches were being prepared against it. Matjator’s Fort, on its river precipice, promised to tax the powers of the Government forces to the utmost, and learning that it was there Mat Salleh purposed retiring, should his own fort become untenable, they subjected it to a severe bombardment. One shell ignited some house- roofs, and, the wind being very high, the fire spread in spite of the efforts of the garrison, till at last it was one tremendous blaze, and in a little while the entire fort was burnt to the ground. On seeing this, and dreading a like catas- trophe, Mat Salleh’s garrison pluckily climbed up and tried to unroof their own buildings, but the besiegers directed such a heavy small-arm fire on them that many fell riddled with bullets and they had to desist till nightfall. In their excess of crazy courage the Bajaus would mount to exposed places in the fort to shout defiance at the enemy, though almost certain of being shot down. The Dyaks, under cover of night, went out and tried to cut the water supply fifty yards from the fort, but the garrison directed so hot a fire on them that they had to beat a hasty retreat. Eventually, with much labour, Captain Harington constructed a heavy dam higher up, right across the river, which was diverted into another stream. All this time there was continual skirmishing between the pickets and the garrison, sorties and counter-attacks, and at night the Bajaus would creep out and try to tush the guns. One pitchy-dark night they noiselessly approached and almost succeeded in seizing the Maxim, but a sentry discovered them and gave the alarm only just in time, and they had to scuttle back like hares under a storm of bullets. As the besiegers drew closer round the fort and occupied positions on an adjacent height, however, their gun and rifle fire so searched the place that the two formidable guard-houses were wrecked, the walls damaged, and the garrison were obliged to dig and shelter in underground holes, and no longer appeared in view to shout defiance. As the grip round the fort tightened and the range grew ever shorter even these last refuges availed the rebels but little, and when exploding shells caused a stampede from one hole to another the Maxim took a heavy toll of their number; while at night the pickets so harassed them that they were unable to get water or come above ground to beat paddy for food. It was evident to all that the fort was receiving severe punishment, and many hoped that the beginning of the end was at hand. But those who had had most to do with Mat Salleh were haunted with suspicions that the outlaw might still have a surprise “up his sleeve ”—that his wily resourcefulness might yet enable him to escape and begin all over again. All through the night of the 31st there was heavy firing, and it was a time of many alarms. The few officers and men off duty had no thought of retiring to rest, for all felt that something was impending, nor was the constant boom of guns and the rattling crash of musketry conducive to slumber. About 2 a.m. the Commandant received a message from the doctor at the base hospital to say that a sentry had caught a Bajau woman escaping from the fort ; that she reported Mat Salleh had been dead since midday, that the garrison had had no water or food for four days, and that the Bajaus intended making a bolt in an hour’s time. This news might or might not be true; Mat Salleh’s death had been frequently reported during the last five years, but Captain Harington was taking no chances, and ordered a seven-

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80 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. pounder to fire star-shell at Short intervals to light up the scene till daybreak. At 4.30 a.m. the very heavy firing which had been maintained since midnight increased in volume for some moments and then ceased; a wild burst of shouting was heard and continued for a while, and then there was a prolonged silence. A little later word came that the Dyaks from the pickets had got into the fort. Some of the Bajaus had escaped, the rest of the garrison who had not been killed were prisoners, but Mat Salleh had not been found either among the captives or the dead. The Commandant at once sent for the Bajau woman, and_ she guided the victors through the honey- comb-like labyrinth of the fort and showed them all the intricate ins and outs of the place. The one thing she could not point out to them was Mat Sal- leh’s grave, and doubts began to grow apace. She still persisted, how- ever, in her state- ment that he had been shot through the head by a Maxim bullet and killed instantly while peering over the wall of his fort on the preceding day, and that he was the only man buried in a white cloth. As all the other Bajau prisoners confirmed the details of this story, a search was made among the graves. After five bodies had been unearthed without a distinguishing mark or sign being found on any of them, the officer’s doubts grew stronger, but at length the searchers came on one care- fully and reverently wrapped in a white cloth. When the shroud was removed and the abnormally large face and feet, familiar to so many, were exposed to view, all present knew that Mat Salleh had indeed fought his last fight, and had once more and finally eluded capture. His wives, Dyang Bandang and _ Isa, were soon taken prisoners and handed over to the care of their relative, the Sultan of Sulu. A few of his follow- ers were punished, all the rest being allowed to take the oath of allegiance and go about their business. Over the West Coast, which had for so long known his domination and been the scene of his wild forays, Mat Salleh’s name is now but a memory. MAT SALLEH’S SWORD, From a Photo.

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A Police-Dog Competition. By James WALTER SMITH. The training of dogs to act as auxiliaries to the police has reached a high point of excellence on the Continent. in France, to test the capabilities of the animals. This article describes a most interesting competition recently held at Roubaix, The intelligence displayed by the canine policemen was truly wonderful. roa N a certain Sunday in last July seven thousand excited people stood K ‘Al watching the movements of a single V5) dog. The place was the Velodrome, —— or cycle track, in the environs of the fagaibcenne town of Roubaix, in Northern France, and the particular dog they were watch- ing was the pet of the municipality. His name was Garcon. He was there to uphold the credit of the town in competition with other police dogs of France and Belgium, and there was not a true Roubaisien in the crowd who did not cheer himself hoarse over each proud movement of Gargon’s tail. But Garcon, big, healthy, able-bodied brute that he was, had to lower his colours before inferior size and superior skill. There was another dog in the competition who had come a long distance—from Brussels—to show his prowess, and he took back with him to “ Little Paris” the victor’s laurels. Was Roubaix angry, do you think? For the moment, yes. But, proud though they were of their own pet, the townspeople were “ sporty ” enough to recognise merit, and the intelligence of little Athos, with his white - tipped tail, was unquestioned. He went through the different tests in this severe competi- _ tion with a business-like air and an apparent delight in his work which won the crowd and brought forth storms of applause. Never, perhaps, before had Roubaix been permitted to witness such an exhibition of canine knowledge. It was almost human. A canvas - covered barrier of wood pre- vented the crowd from encroaching upon the trial ground, in the centre of which was a_ small Vol. xx.—M .. From a) INTENSELY INTERESTED SPECTATORS WATCHING THE COMPETITIONS. house, with a V-shaped roof and a window in the front and back. At the end of the field there was a pile of barrels, and in another part some wicker hurdles and cross-bars for the long and high jumps. A band was in attend- ance, discoursing sweet strains, and the local dignitaries, both municipal and military, added their presence in a small enclosure abutting immediately upon the track. As everyone knows, the “police dog” of the Continent is a creature of importance. He is a peculiar product of the city of Ghent, in Belgium, where a permanent corps of such dogs has been in training for years in connection with the Police Department. The story of how the first police dog of Ghent discovered a thief, and became the pioneer of the corps, js so well known that it needs no further mention. Suffice it to say that the last few years have witnessed on the Continent the rapid growth of the police dog as an institution, and that there is hardly a city or town in Western Europe which does not now place dependency on canine intelligence as a valuable aid in the detection of crime.

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82 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. In Northern France,and = "> in Belgium especially, the dog is indeed the friend of man. He is made to work. He gets little play except that small amount deemed sufficient to prevent canine dullness, yet he is so loved and so well cared for by his owner that he becomes a most important member of the family. The farmer, the tradesman, the house- holder, the guardsman of the frontier worships his dog — one of the first things he thinks of when founding his little home. He takes delight in rousing the dog’s ‘intelligence, and loses no chance of pitting that intelligence against others. Local farmers vie with each other to improve a breed; dog clubs take up the work, holding exhibitions in villages and towns ; cities challenge neighbouring munici- palities to contests on the grandest scale. That is how the thing has grown, and it explains the public interest and the excited crowd. Such contests are not held in fun but in sober earnest, the survival of the fittest in the canine world being the object of those who organize and attend the meetings. Evidence of this interest was not wanting at Roubaix. Previous to the later and more important competition there took place an exhibition of the dogs of douanters, or Custom- house officers, of whom, by the way, there are more representatives in France and Belgium than you could count in a month. The dogs who took part were confined exclusively to those officially entered on the Customs Register. There were forty-five in all—gentleman dogs, lady dogs, dogs with long hair, dogs with short hair, dogs with tails, dogs with no tails; in fact, every sort of dog except lapdogs, dogs with no intelligence, and those remaining species who couldn’t detect a smuggler if they tried. There was as much variety amongst these competitors as there was among the exhibitors, who ranged from the smart young uniformed officer of twenty to the grey-headed veteran of many struggles on the frontier. The dogs, too, were business dogs. They filled the field. They were so jealous of each other that several bitter quarrels, accompanied by the usual canine hullabaloo, took place while the judges were passing about examining them one by one. All this took time. It was a thorough-going, honest attempt on the part of From aj THE PRELIMINARY JUDGING CUMPELITION, (Pheto. the authoritics to select from this representative gathering of four-footed detectives the best of the lot on points. A “Simon Pure” smuggler, one of the good old sort, would have had certain cause for solid Teflection after this competition, and might not have cared to stay for the later proceedings. The serious work of the afternoon, the police- dog competition, was now to begin. There was a brouhaha of the real Gallic order. The men among the crowd drew long breaths of excited anticipation, and the women, of whom there was a strong contingent, gripped their skirts as if at the next moment a pack of yelping furies was going to break loose. Let it be said at once that nothing of the sort took place. Yet there were moments of intense There was always a glorious uncer- tainty about the dogs and their guardians. Was that fine St. Bernard from Tourcoing going to lower the colours of Garcon, the pet of Roubaix ? Would Athos, the Brussels sheep-dog, prove a success or failure? Would there be a fight, with some genuine biting, and were there plenty of exits from the ground? Such were the recurring questions asked by all as the douaniers with their beloved dogs were leaving interest. the field. Of seventeen dogs entered, fourteen competed for the prizes, most of these being Belgians, and winners of many medals in numerous contests. The tests imposed on them were of sufficient rigour to demonstrate the capacity of any dog, but in order to be eligible for a first prize each dog was compelled to perform satisfactorily at least six of the twelve tests arranged by the committee. It was left to the trainer to choose any six or more of the twelve, the final test, after the dog had passed the requirements, being an optional display of any of the animal's

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A POLICE-DOG peculiar merits. Thus it will be seen that during the afternoon there were nearly a hundred individual trials of intelligence, and these took up a good deal of time. The first was a test of simple training and obedience. The dog was not in leash, and on command followed his master, came to him at the first call, sat down, and lay flat. Meat was then offered, but the dog was expected to refuse it. Simple as this test was ‘there was more in it than met the eye. It proved the dog’s obedience to duty and not to appetite. ‘There have been numberless cases where faithful dependents of the household have been deprived of life by a succulent sausage from the hand of a burglar skilled in poison. Hence, the dog who is taught to refuse meat when offered by any- one except his trainer is reasonably sure of a lengthy life. There was a lot of amusement in the per- formance of the second test, in which the dog had to find an. object previously shown to him, then hidden in a place determined by the judges. Some of the competitors knew in a second what was wanted and where to get it with the least possible waste of time. Others raced round the field, sniffing in every quarter, before bringing back the hidden object —usually a muzzle. Others were more deliberate in their movements, confining their search to a small circle of operations, and seeming to follow their tails ineptly round, though they retrieved successfully in the end. It was an excellent study in canine method. Each animal seemed to have his own way of getting what he wanted. One of the miost interesting competitions of the day—set down in the rules as the third test, but, like the others, not always performed in A PRIZE-WINNER AWAITING THE PARADE, From a Photo. COMPETITION. 83 numerical order—was the jumping. It may reasonably be said that, in watching the rivalry between the fourteen dogs in “ negotiating” the long and high jumps, the excitable spectators excelled themselves in excitement. The barriers were heightened or widened at will. In one part of the field, in preparation for the long jump, two small, extensible hurdles were placed, at the ends of which stooped two : officials holding _ be- tween them a long bar of wood. Each dog was supposed to clear this bar, the hurdles being moved farther apart with each suc- cessive jump in order to test the full efficiency of the com- petitor. Near by stood the apparatus for the high jump—two grooved uprights into which cross - pieces were slipped in order to increasg¢ the height. Over this hurdle, some- times nine feet high, leaped the dogs, some of them taking it like the hardest of hard work, others clearing it with an indifference that set the cheap seats wild with delight. Here, too, was evi- dence of the value of the. police dog to the community. Was it not satisfying to every householder in that vast audience to feel that there was at hand in emergency a four- footed “bobby” who could clear a garden wall and find a hidden burglar when all the house was fast asleep? To demonstrate the dog’s ability to detect from outside any noises inside a house such as burglars might_make in their nocturnal rambles, and to proceed in intelligent fashion against such intruders, the ‘small house mentioned at the. beginning of this article was erected in the grounds. This little building figured .in several of the tests, now as a hiding-place for men, afterwards as a temporary enclosure for the dogs when it was desirable they should not see

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THE #rom a\ where the objects of search were being placed. Possibly our illustration ‘will best show how this house was used and the test performed. You will note upon the roof a man, who is supposed to ‘be a burglar attempting to evade seizure. The little dog at the corner of the house is being led inside, where he may hear the movements of the burglar on the roof and use THE LONG JUMP, WITH ONK UF THE COMPETITORS IN WAITING. WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. % ™) his intelligence in order to capture the supposed criminal. There is a tapping on the roof, thedog pricks "up his ears, and, finding himself un- able to get at the burglar except by the little window, leaps through it like a demon, to the attack. The burglar is now at the dog’s mercy. Athos—for it was the little black prize - winner of Brussels who per- formed the feat described—sprang ‘from the ground upon the roof and made for the burglar just as he slid from the roof into a pile of straw upon the ground, in which he tried to hide. It was a useless attempt at evasion, for the dog found his victim, and was preparing to do him bodily damage when his master called him off. It was, you will remem- ber, merely a test of intelligence. You, as the spectator, were left to imagine what might have (Photo. ATHOS SEFKING TO DISLODGE A SUPPOSED BURGIAR WHO HAS TAKEN REFUGE ON A ROOF, From a Photo.

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A POLICE- DOG From a) happened had the burglar been a real burglar, and the house a real house. The fourth was a test of vigilance. The dog was left to guard some object while his master was away, and was expected to give signals by his barks of the approach of any stranger, and to attack him if he tried to take away the object confided to the dog’s care. In number five the dog had to protect his master against the sudden attack of a man armed with a stick. Even if the assailant used a pistol, the dog was supposed to follow and attack him, but had to obey the commands of his master in releasing or re-attacking his assailant. The judges, in the next test, pointed out to the dog a certain man, who then hid himself in a prearranged place. | It was the duty of the dog to find r this man. First, a handkerchief or little flag was waved before the dog, who was then led away, usually behind the little house aforesaid, from - which he could not see the hiding- place of the man. This hiding-place was one of a group of barrels lying in another part of the ground. The dog was supposed, under the rules, to indicate by his barking the man’s place of concealment, and to con-. duct his master to it, just as if the individual were a malefactor hiding in real earnest. This was a test of some severity. A few only of the dogs passed it successfully. Some of them were helped by a tap upon the barrel From a) A DOG PURSUING A MALEFACTOR WHO HAS ATTACKED HIS MASTER, ATTENDANTS CARING FOR THE WANTS OF THEIR PETS, COMPETITION. 85 from the man inside. In two of our photographs part of this test is clearly shown. In one the dog is seen sniffing at the barrel, and in the other the man is seen coming out. In the seventh test the dog was placed at the side of a man lying down. In the absence of his master he was supposed to attack the man if he tried to get up, but so long as the man was quiet the dog was expected to remain quiet too, until his master came upon the scene. A further test of watchfulness followed when the competing dog was made to march behind a number of men under the care of his master, and to attack without instructions any of the party who tried to escape. Both of the above éreuves, as the French call them, were pretty to watch, and pleased the audience mightily. There were no unnecessary words about the business—just a signal from the guardian to the dog that the man on the ground was in his care, and the deed was done. The dog lay upon the ground with his nose against the face of his captive, who, if he stirred a hand or foot, brought the animal quickly to his feet with a watchful growl. Moreover, it is (Photo, ‘reasonably certain that had one of the group of (Photo,

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86 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE, SKEKING A FUGITIVE WHO I 2 IN ONE OK OTHER OF From a} E BARRELS. [Photo. men tried to elude his conductor, he would have been torn to pieces, so intent was the dog upon his business. The police dog in the Continental towns is carefully trained to lend “ first aid” to the injured in case of accidents arising from various causes. For the purpose of the ninth test, therefore, the dog was placed in the centre of the Velodrome at some distance from a bell, the sound of which he was familiar with, and when the bell rang as a call for aid the dog ran full speed to answer the summons. It often happens, when thieves are disturbed at their work, that they throw away their booty in hot flight. Ac- cordingly the dogs are trained by the police to retrieve such treasures. It was surprising to notice, in the tenth test, how accurately the dogs went about their business. In one case an From a) object hidden by the supposed thief some dis- tance from the dog was found with ease, after a few preliminary sniffs. The dog as messenger figured in the final test. He was given a message, delivered it, and then returned to his master, whom he was expected to find, even though the master had changed his position. ‘There now followed the voluntary exercises to which we have referred, their object being to show any of the dog’s accomplishments which had not been demonstrated in the previous tests. is The proceedings of the day, which terminated with sundown, were accompanied by a chorus of canine noises. ‘lhe dogs of the douanters, having had their brief moment of glory, had been relegated to a back part of the field, where in a long, ill-assorted line, tied up against a fence, they gave vent to temporary bursts of impatience, which made the spec- tators shiver. When a fight began, pande- monium broke loose; but when, as happened during a lull in the afternoon, they were brought out in procession before the spectators, to show off their prize-cards, they were as peaceable as a Sunday-school. Proud is no word for their behaviour, nor of the bearing of their masters. As the long line wended its way around the field, bowing to the judges and smiling to friends in the audience, there were cheers enough to satisfy the whole French army-list. It was a great day for Roubaix. The band, of course, played “See the Con- quering Hero Comes,” or its ’rench equivalent. Earlier in the day the bandsmen amused them- selves in their own quiet way. They had with THE FUGITIVE FOUND AND AkRESTED, [Photo,

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A POLICE-DOG COMPETITION. 87 cs—--- From a) them a little rag dog, which they worked by means of a string, just to fool the real dogs and amuse the. spectators. At the end came a truer touch. To the im- patient dogs, grouped upon the field, a life-size dummy figure was thrown. Like a lightning ‘THE DOGS AND THEIR MASTERS IN PROCESSION AROUND THE VELODROMR, eto ey ee : a=, [Photo. flash the snarling pack attacked it, ripped it, mauled it, slashed it into ribbons with their deadly fangs, then quarrelled like the wolves they were over the frothy mess of rags and straw. Yes, the dog is the friend of man— except when he is trained not to be. DURING THE PROCEEDINGS THE MEMBERS OF THE ATTENDANT BAND CAUSED GREAT AMUSEMENT WITH From a) THEIR DUMMY DOG, (Photo.

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Three Men on Great Gable. By R. E. ARNOLD, OF THE ENGLISH CLIMBERS’ CLUB. An account of a toucheand-go e:periznce on the Cumberland Fells. Some people have an idea that mountaineering in England is practically devoid of danger, but Mr. Arnold's little story affords striking evidence to the contrary. IN interval of some years is an excel- f lent aid to oblivion upon many distasteful experiences, but I can safely say that a lifetime will ne. wipe out the memory of one frozen Easter night it was my luck to spend upon the bleak face of one of the Cumberland fells. We were a small party of three. A—-, an experienced Alpine hand; B-—-, a heavy- weight, with but little experience upon roc and myself. For some days we had watched from the windows of the little Wastdale inn a sullen downpour, accompanied by a driving vapour that blotted out everything in its damp, grey pall. Climbing, even of the most elementary order, had, of course, been out of the question ; and when the fourth day broke damp and dour, yet with but little mist, we determined that anything’ would be better than inaction, and accordingly sallied forth with our hundred-foot Alpine rope, and a riicsack stuffed with bodily comforts, in a do-or-die mood. The Great Gable, a peak of some three thousand feet, being our nearest neighbour, was obviously our goal, and up its south-west spur we plodded, with the mist swirling about us, but breaking every now and then in an accom- modating way to give us some clue to our route. ‘Two o'clock found us looking down into the Ennerdale valley from the top of the pass between the Gable and Kirkfell, knee-deep in snow, and it must be confessed feeling anything but happy. A ’s suggestion that we should try a scramble in one of the gullies or “chimneys ” with which the Gable crags are seamed met THE WASIDALE HEAD INN, WHERE THE AUT Os AND HES COMPA SIONS WEE STAYING. From a Pho:o. with a half-hearted acquiescence, and down we scrambled to their foot in search of a likely- looking climb, At least an hour must have been spent in tramping backwards and_for- wards across the face of these black and un- inviting rocks, with but scant hold for our feet upon the sloping floor of snow and ice that had drifted here as a consequence of the last few ed ae

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THREE MEN ON days’ foul weather. A—— had become separated from us in his more energetic quest, but his hail from a rock pinnacle away up above soon brought us together again, and we found him standing at the foot of the most awe-inspiring been my mis- rock-chimney it had ever chance to gaze up into. Imagine a rift, perhaps four feet wide, running up forty feet and then out of sight behind an ___ overhanging buttress, black and damp, and you have my first impression of what has now become a well - mapped and popular climb, known to the initi- ate as the “oblique chimney.” A-—— was, of course, enthusiastic at his find, and our pro- tests at the late- ness of the hour, the bad condition of the rock and weather, and the unknown quality of the climb rolled off his bro:d back as readily as did the sleet that had now commenced to descend upon the wings of a bitter north wind. Our rope was soon uncoiled and we tied on, leaving a length of thirty feet to each man. Twenty-five or thirty feet of the chimney was climbed by A with comparative ease, although the rock had become slimy to the grip, but above this point the three walls ran up wet and polished to a point ten feet above, where a small jammed boulder, when once reached, would give a secure hold and anchorage for the leader. A——’s chamois-like movements here came to a full stop, and he lapsed into decp meditation, whilst we shivered in snow and wind at the chimney-foot. It had now begun to snow in earnest, and we had perilously little daylight left us for the climb. d perilously li le daylight left us for the clim ‘(HE BEGAN WORKING UPWARDS, FIRST WITH HIS FEET AND THEN WITH HIS BACK.” GREAT GABLE. 89 But A ’s mind was soon made up. Shifting his position slightly, he swung both feet across upon the left wall and dropped backwards against the right, thus jamming himself securely, and began working upwards, first with his feet and then with his back. All went well till he was within some five feet of the boulder, when his troubles began = afresh. From here up- wards the right wall overhung in an alarming man- ner, and, with its slimy surface, gave no purchase to the back. Ten minutes must have been spent in negotiating —_ this small rmpasse, but it was over at last, and we sighed with telief as we saw our leader clutch the hold and swing himself upon it. It was a fine piece of rock-craft, but intensely risky, for, had either foot slipped upon the rock-face, he would have been ‘nstantly killed upon the scree below. My turn now came and, with the rope’s support, I could afford to be less cautious, and the same thing applied to B -, who came third. The weather had in the meantime become very bad, and as our chimney faced northward up its entire length we had the full benefit of the playful blast. But nothing could damp our leader’s ardour, and he started gaily . upwards again upon the second stage of this eventful climb. From this point the chimney sappeared to slope inwards slightly, offering better hand and foot hold, and A——, climbing slowly but surely, soon disappeared from our sight in the gathering dusk. 1 was at this stage rather alarmed to find how ice-glazed the walls were

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go THE WIDE W@RLD MAGAZINE. becoming, but took comfort from the thought— a vain one, as it proved—that our leader must now have fully two-thirds of the climb well in hand. His hail soon set me scrambling, and I landed at last by his side in what appeared to be a shallow little cave formed by the jamming overhead of several large boulders, with an acutely sloping scree-strewn floor. Five o'clock had long come and gone, and darkness, intensified by the snowfall, had come down upon us black and icy. B had, during the last hour, been climbing in complete silence and with evident difficulty, complaining at intervals of perished hands dnd feet ; but neither A—— nor myself had taken much account of his troubles, thinking that he would gradually warm to the climb as we advanced. Imagine our feelings, then, when, the signal having been given for B to move, no movement came or answer to our repeated shouts. I think it was at this stage that A began to regret the dangerous position in which his irrepres- sible enthusiasm had placed us. But it was no time for recrimina- tion, and we set our- selves to think out a plan for the succour of our third man, who was evidently in serious difficulties. The snow squall was blowing right in upon us and the climb rapidly becoming more glazed and impass- able; this, coupled with the darkness, made even a few feet of the descent in the highest degree danger- ous. The available rope, too, we found to be too short to allow of the rescuer reach- ing the sufferer. Neither would it have been wise, excepting as a last resort, to pull up a dead weight of fourteen stone over jagged edges by means of a thin Alpine rope. “1 CLUNG THERE BY ONE FKUZEN HAND.” We were in a sad fix, and our own half-frozen state was no alleviation. But time pressed, for B—— was evidently unconscious—probably jammed somewhere in the chimney, and slowly freezing to death. A—— was still safely anchored in the position in which I had found him, so, unroping, I handed him the slack and prepared for the perilous descent. ‘The first eight or ten feet I negotiated safely, for the walls were here more broken and partially cleared of the ice-glaze by the leader. But below this point my toes, kick in whatever direction they might, could find no hold; and one hand, loosened from its icy grip by these exertions, came away, and I was within an ace of making a close acquaintance with the scree- slope .a hundred feet below. I can even now vividly recall the silent panic that overtook me as I clung there by one frozen hand whilst snow and the biting north wind drove in upon and blinded me. But necessity is a yood nerve tonic, and I am thankfui to record that my lapse was but momentary. Feeling cautiously round, I regained my lost hand- hold, and in another five minutes was again beside the _ leader, having found it utterly impossible to reach poor B——. It appeared, however, that our troubles had only just begun. A—— sat in the same position in which I had left him, his clothes plastered with ice, and in only a semi - conscious state. This was the last drop to our already overflowing cup of trouble, and I have from this point but a hazy idea of further happenings. I remember, after taking the rope from A——’s frozen hands and belaying it securely, frantically pinching and kicking him back to a sense of our parlous state. But how we in. our frozen condition

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managed together to haul poor B—— from his position below to our own level, and finally tumble him, inanimate and bleed- ing from a cut on the head, on to the slop- ing floor of the cave, will always remain somewhat of a mys- tery even to its chief actors. It took more than half an hour of con- tinuous exertion to get a semblance of conscteusness out of our patient, and his persistent lapses frightened us even more than our un- safe position. What would we not have given for the riicsack and its contents, re- posing peacefully in the snow at the. chimney-foot ! By this it must tHe have been about 9 p.m., the snow still talling heavily, and the wind blowing with unabated vigour. The cave, which was, in reality, only a niche, barely held the three of us, and was far too low to stand upright in. With these drawbacks, and the addi- tional responsibility of a wounded man, we felt that at any cost a way must be found to the summit ; for a descent over the smooth section of the chimney in its then condition, and in the pitchy blackness, would have meant certain death to the last man. The left-hand wall was as smooth as glass, but the right appeared to have a few minute holds upon it, and these, with the boulders above, might be of assist- ance in the quest. So, climbing as far up as the roof would allow, I felt THREE MEN ON “CHIMNEY” WHICH THE AUTHOR AND HIS COMPANIONS WERE. CLIMBING WHEN THEY MET WITH THR DISASTROUS EXPERIENCES HERE From a) RELATED. IME AUTHOR, MR. KE. ARNOLD. From a Photo. (Photo. GREAT GABLE. - 91 gingerly around and above for a firm grip. Everywhere, how- ever, I encountered the same glaze of ice, and was forced at last to relinquish the hope of finding an exit. Down I came, therefore, and helped A to cover our sufferer as far as possible with small stones as some inadequate protection against the weather, whilst we lay close upon either side to impart what warmth our own frozen bodies contained. So we lay, waiting patiently for the dawn. The ensuing hours were’ more or less a frozen blank. I can remember dazing fit- fully and waking to hear A—— climbing the chimney again in his troubled sleep, or our poor — sufferer groaning and shifting rest- lessly. But for the greater part of that dreadful night we must all have lain ina state bordering on coma ; and it is a marvel to me, exhausted as we were, that everyone was not frozen stiff and stark by dawn. It only testifies to the oft- repeated fact that the aver- age Englishman takes a lot of killing when in fit condition. At 3 a.m. the snow had ceased and the sky was rapidly clearing, but the cold was intense and made movement a__ necessity. B--— was got to a sitting position, and, despite his weak expostulations, bat- tered and chafed into some semblance of animation. At four o'clock we judged it light enough to essay the descent, andj proceeded to

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92 : THE WIDE WORLD carry out the plan of action A—— and I had matured in the frigid small hours. 1 was toclimb down to the pitch just above the most difficult portion of our ascent, and there wait the advent of poor B——, carefully lowered on the rope. This was done, though with the greatest care, for the walls were, as we expected, coated with black ice. Propping B—— safely against the left wall, I made what scant room I could for A——, who followed us. From here B—— was lowered ayain like a sack of corn into the snow at the chimney-foot, where he stuck up to From a) the knees, quite incapable of helping himself. A—— remained in his place as an anchor, and I slid down the rope, passing in a few moments over the portion that had taken us more than an hour to tackle in our ascent. Loosening the rope from B——, it was pulled aloft again, threaded between the jammed stone and the wall, and down came A in like manner, to be received with a silent handshake that spoke more eloquently of our relief than any words could have done. The sole remaining trouble now lay in our patient’s condition and the best means of trans- MAGAZINE. porting him. But our anxiety was quickly set at rest, for we had barely turned to make pre- parations when a faint hail reached our ears from near the western summit of the crags, and four black figures came rapidly down upon us. They proved to be dalesmen who had started at the first streak of dawn in search of us, and with their kindly aid we were soon between the blankets in company with a full meal ahd a comforting pipe. B—— was,. of course, the chief sufferer, and it was some weeks before he could be - WASTDALE HEAD AND GREAT GABLE, moved from the dale. It appears that a falling stone struck him whilst climbing to the second pitch, and the consequent loss of blood must have been largely instrumental in causing the severe frost-bite to both hands and feet from which he suffered for many months after- wards. , Since those days I have experienced cold and privation at four or five times the altitude, but this will always remain foremost in my memory as a sample of. what our English mountains can do for the unwary climber when they try.

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Six Thousand Miles on Horseback. By W. C. Rose The record of a magnificent achievement, a ride of somewhat over six thousand miles, from Mexico to the Argentine, accomplished on one horse and traversing for a considerable part of the way entirely unexplored country, where hardships and adventures were met with almost daily. The author was introduced to us by Mr. Roger Pocock, founder of the Legion of Frontiersmen, and himself the hero of a remarkable ride. Mr. Pocock wrote: “I thought I held the world’s record for long-distance riding, but this man’s trip puts me quite in the shade.” ry |S the Conomamas here turned due j east, we crossed them, following a spur trending due south. Not before we reached Mostenos, a poor village of probably a hundred and fifty Indian inhabitants, on the Rio Beni, did we know ourselves to be in Bolivia. _ Our course was east-south-east now for some time, and for the next ten days we encountered no habitation, when we saw the lights of the settlement of Buena Vista. Not long. afterwards we passed a small town—-Santa Cruz de la Sierra, if I remember rightly —little dreaming that this was the last sign of civilization we should sce for seven long months, a period of unspeakable toil and privation. Our way led through dense and almost im- penetrable forest, and we thanked our stars again and again that we had made the acquaint- ance of the old Indian hunter, for very often it was weeks before we came to a river or creek, and our knowledge of the water-carrying lianas saved us from a cruel death by thirst. Our supply of hard bread ran short, while for many weeks our horses had to feed on leaves. Game, of course, was plentiful, but often enough we could not make a fire for fear of setting the forest alight, which would have meant death for us. On these days we had to eat the meat raw. To make it at least a little more tender we used to envelop it in the skin and put it underneath a saddle. Two of us on foot cut a way through the branches and creepers with our ‘“ machetes,” while the third generally rode, and, what with his weight and the motion of the horse, the meat lost much of its toughness. ‘The heat was terrible, and we suffered cruelly from it, as well as from various insect pests. Some weeks after we left the last village behind us we came to a lake of at least twenty square miles in extent, connected by a narrow channel with a second lake. The water of both III. . was dark green near the shore, and farther out were curious black patches, which I took for a sign of great depth. What surprised me most was that these lakes were entirely void of life, either animal or vegetable. I can only account for it by the curious, but not disagreeable, taste of the water, due to a strong solution of some kind of mineral unknown to me. The grass about the shore was very dark in colour, and had a peculiar steely sheen; it seemed to be very rich, and our horses, afier feeding on leaves for so long a time, liked it very well. One thing, however, puzzled me. Ever since we had come to the swampy region of the R:o Magdalena we had taken to the habit of mixing a small dose of quinine with every glass of water we drank to prevent the dreaded intermittent fever, but with the water of the lakes it produced an abnormally bitter taste which would stay for hours ; and José, who, on account of his having had the “ Yellow Jack” already, took a greater quantity of quinine, invariably had the colic after each drink. It was here that I again became indebted to my gallant little mare for saving my life — for the second time. One morning—it was my turn that day to watch camp—-I was bathing quite happily in the cool waters and struck out for the middle of the lake, wishing to examine the dark spots I had noticed from the shore. I was quite close to one of them, when a strange feeling came over me. My head grew dizzy, and the next moment violent cramp seized me in both feet. I turned directly, but with every stroke I felt more and more exhausted, with a sensation as if an ever- increasing weight was pulling me down, and I became thoroughly frightened. I shouted for help, but in vain, for my com- panions were, for all I knew, miles away. I had nearly given up all hope of rescue, when, fortunately for myself, I remembered Pepita. Working hard to keep my head above water

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94 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. I whistled on my fingers, and presently I heard the gallop of a horse—my mare. Soon my little darling came racing down, but stopped short at the edge of the water. Another whistle, and—thank God !—she saw me. With a loud neigh (to me it seemed the sweetest music I had ever heard) she reared, and the next moment the water closed over her. It did not take her long to reach me, when I caught hold of her long mane, and turning her we were soon once more on terra firma. When, after the termination of our journey, I made a present of Pepita to Pedro, he said it rc St-ant eto Sha v “1 CAUGHT HOLD OF HEK LONG MANE.” was the greatest token of friendship I could have given him. He was right; parting from her made me weep like a woman for the first time in my life. About a fortnight after we had bidden adieu to the lakes we became conscious of being fol- lowed by somebody or something. We caught a glimpse now and then of an ugly face peering at us, sometimes from amongst the underwood, sometimes from the lianas aloft. Before we could make out whether it was man, monkey, or what, it was gone again. I took it for granted that these distorted, wrinkled faces belonged either to some aboriginal natives or to an unknown species of monkey; but a few days later the mystery was solved in startling fashion. One afternoon—we were toiling hard again, cutting our way literally foot by foot—we sud- denly heard an angry roar and a succession of terrible shrieks. ‘The noises sounded very close to our left, and we accordingly forced our way in that direction. Presently, without warning, Pedro’s rifle was pushed forward over my shoulder, and the next instant he fired. The report was followed by a stifled growl, and then those awful shrieks rang out once more. A moment later we broke through the under- . growth into a little opening. Here we saw, with his head towards us, a_ beautifully spotted tiger, resting at full length on a human body, his right paw pinning to the ground a second man. The brute was stone dead—my *companion’s bullet had gone straight to its heart One man appeared to be dead ; the other ceased his cries when he saw us, and as I approached him his small, glittering black eyes looked into my face with more awe, perhaps, than when they re- garded the crouching tiger. Cutting the dead animal’s sinews with my knife, I opened its paw and liberated the poor fellow. He tried to jump to his feet and run away, but was so weak from loss of blood, that with a groan he sank back again, with an expression at once terrified and appealing in his eyes. Carrying him to a small rivulet, which flowed through the opening, I washed the ghastly wound and dressed it with arnica. Overcome by pain and weakness, his eyes closed, but not before he had looked up into my face like a faithful dog. We dug a hole and buried the other little man, whose neck was broken. He was about four feet ten inches in height, with a broad chest and muscular arms, which were very long in proportion to his stature. His forehead was low; the nose shot straight out at an angle of about sixty-five to seventy degrees, and the eyes were small, black, and very bright. His whole Digitized by Sa OC bale

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SIX THOUSAND body was covered with a thick, oily substance, which had a strong smell and most likely served to keep off the various forest insects ; his short hair was black, straight, and very stiff; the rest of his body was hairless. His garment was the air and his weapon a short club of yellow wood with dark knots, very hard and polished. My patient slept for some time, while I fre- quently changed the wet compress I used to cool his wound, and he only awoke just before dark, when José shot a turkey. He never moved, but his eyes followed me wherever I went. I gave him some of the roast turkey later on, of which he ate a little; but when he tasted the weak grog I offered him the expression on his face was a study—clearly revealing to me the fact that these aborigines had certainly never come into contact with alcohol before. How- ever, when he saw me drink of the same stuff, he emptied his small cup without hesitation. Of course, he did not under- stand what I said, but perfectly comprehended my signs. At night I covered him with a blanket, and bid- ding my comrades renew the compress from time to time, I turned in. All was quiet. during the night; Pedro, who cilled me at 4 a.m., reported that my patient had slept well, but added that during the last half of his watch he had heard a continuous rustle in the branches of a big tree near the brook. He pointed the tree out to me and then went to sleep. I looked at my charge, found him quiet and with- out fever, and after putting a fresh wet towel on his shoulder, prepared my breakfast. This eaten, I went a little farther up the creek, where it was deeper, and bathed. The fire shone very brightly, so that I could overlook the whole camp. Suddenly I heard a rustl- ing in the tree Pedro had shown me, and then a peculiar barking noise assailed my ears. It was MILES ON HORSEBACK. ~ 95 as if a pack of terriers were angrily disputing together. I jumped out of my bath, gripped my rifle, and, no witnesses being present, cautiously advanced in the costume I started life in. Creep- ing noiselessly nearer to discover whence the sounds proceeded, a strange scene met my eyes. About forty of the aborigines, all of them under five feet in height, had torn the blanket from my patient and were hopping round him, gesticulating wildly and making the noise already described. A tailor would have died of starva- tion amongst these good people, for none of them, male or female, wore any more garments than myself at that moment. Meanwhile my patient appeared to be answer- ing questions. In my eagerness to get a better view of the funny little people, I moved too quickly, a dry branch crackled underfoet, and “MY PATIENT APPEARED TO BE ANSWERING QUESTIONS.”

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96 THE lo! they vanished in the twinkling of an eye amongst the branches of the tree, climbing like monkeys, Afterwards, as they gained confidence in.us, they kept dropping down to see their friend whenever the camp was quiet. In order to learn something of their customs I let my Mexicans go hunting, I myself staying at home and hiding, so that I could watch proceedings. I could not learn much, however. Their language—if one can call their barking utter- ances by that name—consisted of scarcely more than five or six sounds. Religion they apparently had none, and-their principles were communistic. I never saw any trace of the existence of separate families amongst them, the children taking care of themselves, and neither women nor men troubling about them. A few days later I climbed the tree under the guidance of my late patient, who until then had not left camp. The habitation of the tribe was in the tree, and consisted simply of branches laid over one another and covered with a deep layer of moss; overhead they were sheltered by the leafy canopy from sun or rain. ‘There seemed to be no sickness amongst theni—at least, I never saw any, but some had terrible scars all over their bodies, evidently caused by wild animals. About a fortnight later we left the place, and I was much surprised on finding that my late patient, who was quite well by this time, followed us. I waved my hand in the direction of his home, but he only shook his head. He did us good service while he remained with us, for he acted as our guide and saved us much hard work in forcing our way through the dense forest. Nineteen days later we were out of the forest once more, a seemingly endless plain stretching away in front of us as far as the eyes could reach, We stayed two days on the border to enable us to prepare some “ charqui” (sun-dried meat), and cut a whole mule-load of the water lianas in case we should find no water in the llanos. On the third morning before sunrise we gave our horses their heads ({ had my strange aboriginal friend mounted behind me) and indulged in the luxury of a very fast spin over the grasslands. My little native wound his long, muscular arms around my middle and held on for dear life, groaning all the time ; he had never ridden or seen a horse before. An hour later, when we pulled up our stecds, the litle chap slid off my horse, and, giving me a look of infinite gratitude and sorrow, turned and ran off towards the woods as fast as ever he could, and that was the last we saw of him. _stomach. WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. We halted for a short rest in the afternoon, but had not even kindled our fire when we heard the gallop of many animals. Expecting them to be a herd of wild horses we made ready for the chase, but as soon as we were in our saddles we noticed that the horses were not riderless, but mounted by long-limbed, bony Indians, carrying bows and arrows. The next moment Pedro’s horse neighed loudly, and we were seen. With a wild whoop the savages wheeled their horses and rushed down upon us. Not wishing to take human life without urgent necessity, we shot four horses, bringing the riders down with them. ‘This brought the crowd to a standstill, “and they surged round the fallen horses, screanuing and shouting with amazement and rage. It seemed to me that they were not acquainted with firearms. ‘Their courage, however, was dauntless, for presently they mounted again and charged once more. When about a hundred yards away they gave a terrible howl and discharged a shower of arrows, which fell a few yards short of us. This time it was obvious that they meant business, and we bestirred ourselves to give them a warm reception, Our rifles rang out in quick succession, and savage after savage rolled on the ground. Again they halted, and another shower of arrows came whizzing through the air—ths time, fortunately, too high. We did not allow them to repeat ‘his dangerous performance a third time, but handed out some more lead, and five Indians and two horses fell. This was evidently wore than they could Like a whirlwind their horses flew round, and they did not halt until about three hundred yards lay between us. Wishing to show them that our rifles could punish them even at that distance too, we took a careful aim, and three more riders lost their mounts. After this last exhibitiey they went off at full gallop, and we never saw them again. The llanos, after all, were not so extensive as we thought at first, for on the eve of the fifth day we noticed a dark band stretch across the plain on our horizon, and we knew that more hard work was in store for us. ‘Two days later we reached the forest. We toiled on day after day, suffering terribly from the heat and venomous insects. The undergrowth was so denre that we could not even hunt; we had to feed on birds, which, fortunately, were plentiful. But even of these we were deprived for three days. One night the air became almost suffocatingly oppressive, and to our horror shortly afterwards we saw thin swaths of smoke gliding through

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SIX THOUSAND MILES ON HORSEBACK. 97 “THIS TIME IT WAS OBVIOUS THAT THEY MEANT BUSINE! the tops of the trees. We could smell burning wood, and suddenly realized to our intense horror that somewhere to the westward a forest fire was raging. We used our machetes in the effort to escape, but half an hour later threw them down in despair—we had made exactly three yards headway in the time! Our work was useless. If the fire was not kept away from us by some Vol. xx.—13. power stronger than our own we knew we were - doomed. We therefore arranged that before the fire reached us we would aim eat each other's heads and blow our brains out rather than be burnt alive. The fire must have been some distance away, as we could not see any glare from it. Our one hope was that it might be stayed in its awful progress by a broad stream.

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98 THE WIBE WORLD MAGAZINE. All the birds, monkeys, and other animals fled, and our horses were mad with fear. This terrible suspease lasted for two days, but on the evening of the second day the forest seemed much as usual, although there was no living thing near us. Our supply of charqui was finished, and we had to depend for each meal on what we could bring down. In the forest the heat was so terrific (one hundred and thirty degrees Fahrenheit in the shade was the usual temperature, as registered by my thermometer) that four hours after an animal was killed the flesh would become putrid. During the three days we could shoot nothing we were compelled to kill one of our mules for food. To cut a long story short, it was two months after we left the plains before we heard the gurgling of running water, and were checked in our southward course by a mighty stream, which later on we learned to be the Rio Pilcomayo, in the Argentine. The banks were crowded with alligators, of which we shot forty-three on the first day, so that we could not even try to swim it. It flowed almost due north at this point; we therefore decided to travel up-stream, as nothing would have induced us to go back again into the awful wilderness we had just left. It would have been better for us had we followed the current, as the river wound hither and thither in a most bewildering way, and we encountered a perfect network of tributary waterways which gave us no end of trouble and difficulty before we got clear of them. By this time we were getting heartily sick of the whole business; the work was altogether too trying and monotonous. The only redeem- ing feature was that game was plentiful. We had followed the river for about forty days, when, one day, we noticed a continuous noise, something like the roll of very distant thunder. As we proceeded on our journey it grew constantly louder, but another mile or so solved the riddle. The river, which we had steadily followed up- stream, here ceased, and dry land appeared. We found that the stream at this point emerged from a subterranean passage into a huge basin about a hundred and ten yards in breadth, where the water boiled furiously, foaming and swirling round and round, until it overflowed and formed the over-ground course of the river. Twelve days later saw us on the bank of another, the Rio Bermejo, not so broad as the Pilcomayo, but still too broad to swim. Not being able to cross, we went down-stream this time, with lighter hearts, for we noticed un- mistakable signs of our approach to civilization. A few days more and a monotonous chant struck our ears. Presently a barge rounded a bend of the river, paddled by eight Indians and captained by a rascally-looking Spanish half-breed. At. first sight of us they were inclined to cross to the other side, but Pedro peremptorily hailed them in Spanish and raised his rifle significantly. This gentle hint had the desired effect, and they hesitatingly approached us. Upon inquiry the half-breed informed us that, if we crossed to the other side and followed the Bermejo, we would in the course of about nine days arrive at its junction with the Rio Parana. Following the latter for a few hours would bring us opposite the city of Corrientes. Qnly ten more days and our troubles would be ended! The yellow-skinned rascal, however, had not tuld us the truth, and, as it turned out, instead of ten days it was two-and-twenty before we saw the white houses of Corrientes. We arranged with our informant to ferry us across for twenty U.S. dollars, but before the bargain was struck, Pedro had half an hour’s animated conversation with him. Two hours was the time the bargemen took to carry us over, landing us nearly a mile farther down-river. During the passage the half-breed gentleman became very much interested in the leather bag in which I kept my cash, the coins I had collected of each of the twelve Republics we had traversed, and my little Peruvian treasure, but a friendly poke from me in his ribs, which nearly sent him. flying overboard, told him in plain Western language that his curiosity was out of place. Ere dark we fell in with a tribe of Indians (Guaranis of Paraguay), and I was promptly asked by their chief if I could not let him have some ‘“aguadiente” for “his little sick child.” This question assured me that these Indians were not ignorant savages like those we had met in the Llanos de Chaco, but were “civilized.” All the same his request for spirits was equally promptly refused, for by his looks I gath red that “the little sick child” concern- ing whom he was so solicitous was none other than himself. For five silver dollars these Indians showed us the way down to Corrientes, and so, at last, we regained civilization once more. That very same night, as though to mark the occasion, my watch, one by a good London maker, which had cost me twenty-five pounds and kept splendid time throughout the journey, was stolen. My record hunting and explor- ing trip was at an end, and none of us were sorry. In spite of the indescribable sufferings and privations we underwent, however, the ride had its pleasures, and the memory of it I shall never forget.

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THE WIDE WORLD: In Other Magazines. “STRIPES.” A Aies the elephant had trumpeted twice there was silence for about ten seconds, then, with a tremen- dous roar, a magnificent tiger broke from the patch of jungle and bounded out into the blazing sunshine. He looked a magnificent creature, as he stood for a moment lashing his tawny sides with his tail and showing his gleaming teeth. I was glad to have Leen introduced first to such a splendid specimen of a tiger, as these great beasts look so different in confinement that, but for the stripes, one would hardly recognise, in the cowed, lank brute exhibited in menageries, the grand feline that is at once the pride and scourge of the Indian jungles. —‘‘ THE CAPTAIN.” A NOVEL HOLIDAY RESORT. HE KING OF SIAM, who is one of the richest of monarchs, with an income of something like four millions sterling per annum, has literally sunk a large sum of money in a novel holiday resort. This is nothing more or less than a large glass pavilion, in which, during the summer months, he submerges himself in the large lake which the Royal ornamental gardens boast. These cover an area of more than twenty-five acres ; and as they are surrounded by a wall fully twelve feet high, His Majesty can always enjoy perfect immunity from the vulgar gaze.—‘‘ TIT-BITS.” a TOYLAND. @ Rae district of Thuringia, in Germany, might well be nicknamed Toyland. In almost all its houses playthings are fashioned, and its factories employ hundreds of hands in the making of various toys, especially of dolls. Sonneberg and Neustadt are the centres of the doll- making industry, and whole families live by means of these toys. Twice every year a great doll fair is held at Leipsic, to which English buyers go. Many go un from there to Sonneberg, while some prefer to déal direct with the Thuringian manufacturers. This fair, which lasts ten days, is one of the features of Leipsic, and is on so large a scale that permanent buildings have been put up to accommodate the sellers. Many doll manufacturers leave their sample dolls in these.—‘* WOMAN'S LIFE.” HEROES OR HELOTS? AN amusing instance of the guesses of sub-editors to get at the meaning of unintelligible passages in telegrams was afforded recently by the London daily papers. All of them received a message from Ireland stating that a meeting of constables of the Royal Irish Constabulary had been held, at which they had stated certain grievances they complained of. One of the papers Next day came out with the statement that the police objected to being made ‘‘heroes” of; another declared that they could not tolerate being made ‘‘heads’’ of ; while a third emphatically assured its readers that being made into ‘‘helots” was the treatment which completed the unhappiness of their lot. A fourth newspaper, how- ever, hit on the correct interpretation and made it clear that what the constables really objected to was being made ‘“‘herds” of—an allusion, of course, to the new duties imposed on them by cattle drives in certain districts in Ireland.—‘‘ THE GRAND MAGAZINE.” SPANISH RAILWAYS, T° ALKING of railways, the following is a yarn con- cerning them which we heard in this land of Manana. It appears that the Hon. Benjamin H. Ridge- ley, U.S.A. consul for Spain, was on a short journey of a hundred miles or so, and towards evening the train stopped with & jerk out in the wilderness. Putting his head out of the window, he inquired the reason of the delay, and was informed it was a cow on the line. To- wards morning the train again stopped with another jerk, and he asked the guard what was up nov... The guard again replied, ‘‘ Cow on the line.” Said Mr. Ridgeley, ““There seems a lot of cows on this line,” ‘* No,” said the guard ; ‘‘same cow.” I feel quite sure that this story is absolutely true, because the only truth we ever got as to Spanish roads came from the same source.—‘*C. B. FRY'S MAGAZINE.” THE RECORD DIAMOND. HE enormous diamond shown in the accompanying photograph, together with the fist of an adult, in order to give a better idea of the size, is the celebrated “Cullinan” diamond, which was found on the Premier (Transvaal) Diamond Mine on January 26th, 1905. Its weight is 3,025 carats, the previous larggst stone being 970 carats, and it thus is a world’s record as regards size, colour, and quality. It is valued at £500,000.— “THE STRAND MAGAZINE.”

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Odds and Ends. A Sinking Steamer—A Queer Catch—Importing Big Game, etc., etc. Bot, ee ey i From a) } HE Dutch mail steamer If7/s, from Rotterdam for Batavia, was steam- ing through the Mediterranean on December 23rd, 1906, when, towards ™ evening, she sighted a steamer in distress. On approaching, it was found that the vessel was the Greek steamship Axnatka, and she was in very bad straits, her decks being almost level with the water. She was laden with timber and had sprung a leak. The IVits sent her second officer on board, and it was decided to try and tow the Annika to Messina. Soon after, however, the crew, fearing that she would founder beneath them, re- fused toremain longer and left the ship. The captain, however, pluckily stuck to his vessel, and all night long the IVilis stood by, anxiously watching the Anntka's lights, When morning dawned it THE SINKING STEAMER “ ANNIKA” AS SHF APPEARED WHEN SIGHTED BY THE VESSEI. WHICH RESCUED HER CREW. (Photo, was scen that the vessel was doomed. The captain at length consented to leave, and the mail steamer forged ahead again, leaving the all but submerged vessel to her fate. Our photo- graphs graphically illustrate the Anika as she appeared when first sighted and when abandoned. "—A SNAP-SHOT TAKEN CLOSE ALONGSIDE AFTER THE ABANDONMENT,

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ODDS AND ENDS. 101 A QUERK CATCH From a) THIS MONSTER TURTLE WAS CAUGHT WITH LINE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN, Commander S. D. Vale, of the Royal Indian Marine, sends us the interesting photograph next reproduced. Concerning it he writes as follows : “In December last I was fishing from a small jolly-boat off the coast of Kathiawar, opposite a place called Shil, in six fathoms of water. I was fishing for rock-cod on the bottom, with a heavy bonito line and large hook. I had been enjoying quite yood sport, when I suddenly felt a more than usually heavy pull at my line, and found that, whatever I had hooked, it was something much bigger than an ordinary rock-cod. As the boat was being © pulled all over the place I had the anchor got up, and a few minutes after, to my great surprise, a huge turtle came to the surface with a rush, giving me the first inkling of what I had hooked. For an hour and a half we were towed in every direction, eventually getting about two and a half miles trom land, by which time the turtle had been conquered and was fast alongside the boat. In this fashion we towed it back to the ship that I was commanding and hoisted it on board, where it turned the scale at three hundred and twenty-five pounds. The curious part of the whole thing is that the turtle was hooked under the left fore flipper ; he must have crawled over my bait as it lay on the rocks at the bottom.& The way in which the creature was finally mastered is also interesting. After being towed about by the animal From a) (Photo. for an hour or so, I came to the conclusion that the struggle might go on for ever unless something was done. I therefore ran another big fishing-line, with a loop and piece of lead, down the line the turtle was fast to, with the idea that by keeping it slack the creature would eventually get his flippers entangled in the loose line during his frantic efforts to escape. This eventually happened, and with the two lines fast to him we were able to drag him to the boat’s side, get a rope round his flippers, and so secure him. The photograph shows me standing beside the turtle. I am six feet high, so you can form an idea of its size. The line with which it was caught will be seen still fast in the left flipper.” The odd-looking structure seen in the snap-shot below forms the home of a gold- miner in the Nevada Desert. Wood and other stereotyped building materials were so scarce as to be well-nigh unobtainable, and so this ingenious gentleman fell back upon the barrels containing his food and other supplies. These he used for the walls of his curious home. The front door is made entirely from the sides of old tin cans which contained oil used by the miner for fuel. The back wall of the house is the side of a sandbank, which has been scooped out and the tiers of barrels fitted neatly against it. Strange as it may seem, the walls and roof of this quaint dwelling are quite watertight, and the interior is ‘dry and warm. In spite of this, however, we do not imagine many of our readers would be particularly desirous of exchanging residences with this enterprising miner. (Photo. A HOUSE HUILT OF BAKKE AND OLD TIN CANS.

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102 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Reproduced on this page will be found a pathetic circular which reached us some time ago from Russia. We suppress the name of the society issuing this weird specimen of English, summit of Mont Blanc, iu Switzerland. Here devoted scientists contrive .o exist nearly all the year round, observing the eccentricities of the human beings is the weather observatory on thé” but, as may be gleaned from the text, it is an association formed to assist gentlemen who have lost employment or income through the troubles in Russia. The objects of the society are apparently admirable ; it is a pity that its English is not equally good. Our readers will agree with us, we are sure, in thinking that it must indeed be painful for an educated — gentle- man, “even with Uni- wersity education,” to be “thrown out from the society without a piece of bread.” One can understand the unfortunate man “suffering from starv- ing” under such hap- less circumstances. Needless to say, “2 free ex of yours very estimeed paper” were sent to the society. The highest building in Europe occupied by THE HIGHEST INHABITED BUILDING IN BUROPE—THE WEATHER OBSERVATORY ON THE SUMMIT OF MONT BLANC Dear Sirt ‘The present critical’ situation in Russia has caused that a lot of edu- cated gentlemen even with Uniwersity—education has thrown out rom the suciety without a piece of bread, An Association was founded which undertook to help such educa- ted gentlemen which were suffering from starving inthe way of esta- blishing an office for cutting from russian and foreign papers against a trifle payment to the sufferers. Being short of means for subscribing on all foreign papers, we ‘are compelled to appeal to all Editors and Owners of some to support us in the good case and there fore ask you to do us favour by send- ing 2 free ex of yours very estimeed paper We io vur turn offer send you all the cuttings concerning your paper. Tn case of consenting please let os known. We remain with utmost respects our traly A PATHETIC APPEAL FROM RUSSIA, snow. mips From a Photo. Ss irae = 190 Digitized b' Google fe) weather with thermo- meter, barometer, and other instruments. They are high above the line of perpetual snow, and are some- times imprisoned in the observatory for weeks onend. Ample supplies of food and fuel are always kept at hand, however, in case the snowstorms are so heavy that the little band = cannot leave their — shelter. The accompanying photograph shows a squad of Italian mountain soldiers who have ventured up to the observatory. Some of them are standing upon the roof of the shed in which the scientists live, which is partly covered with ’ A few weeks’ sojourn in this eyrie during winter-time would probably cool the ardour of even the most enthusiastic mountaineer.

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ODDS AND ENDS. ; 103 reached. The quantity of grain the | red man succeeds in hiding in | these crude structures is surpris- ing; in some of the larger ones a hundred bushels of corn can be easily stowed away. As a rule, these caches are to be found in front of the Indian dwellings, so that they can be constantly watched. Being several feet above the ground, the corn is out of the way of fowls, while the rudely-twined twigs with which the cache is covered, to- gether with its canvas top, effectu- ally protect the grain from the weather. Although caribou are very plenti- ful on the Island of Newfoundland, moose, which were also found there when the island was first discovered, have entirely disappeared. During the past three years, with the idea of re-stocking the forests, the New- foundland Government have pur- chased a number of young moose, captured in New Brunswick during the winter season by permission of the Government. These young animals have been released on the island, where they are said to be quite at home. The result is being eagerly watched by sportsmen and others. The following photograph represents one of the young moose ready for shipment. When taken THE CURIOUS “ACORN " GkaIN-STOKKHUUSES OF THE YOSEMITE INDIANS, From a Photo. by C. C. Pierce. young and carefully handled they become quite tame. It will be Not far from the foot of the Yosemite Falls, interesting to observe whether this effort to im- in the famous Yosemite Valley, lies an Indian port big game meets with the success it deserves. camp which is free . : quently visited by travellers, who are ( much struck with the native corn _ store- houses to be seen there. These are termed “acorn caches,” and some idea of their curious design may be obtained from our photograph. They are { perched upon stilts 1 and are made of rude } * basket work, an Opening being left near the bottom through which the store can easily be CK MOOSE BRING sffiPPBR TC £ t TURNED LO@SK INDTHIK seo, “ From a)

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104 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. The next photograph can be appropriately labelled “ A Case of Hard Luck.” It was taken at Thermopolis, Wyoming, an isolated settlement at the foot of the Owl Mountains, where a wonderful hot spring gushes from the base of a clif. This spring is appareatly — inex- haustible, and of a marvellous ultramarine blue colour. The water is boiling hot and coats everything with a white, glazed substance. Its curative pro- perties are little known because of its isolation and the difficulty of reaching it from the railroad. The old man in the photograph, sixty-five years of age, was once a fairly prosperous ranchman. Becoming almost _ kelpless through rheumatism, he saw all that he had gathered by years of hard work and hardships gradually disappear. When ten lame horse seen in the picture were all that he had left in the world he started hot springs, some hundred and fifty miles away. With his bed and his food on the two literally crawled over the roads of the sage-brush deserts, deep with sand and alkali HIS LIF ki vk dollars and the to walk to the his lame horse Fire-FisHTing “Cage of Hard Luck™ A Peciiliar Structure *e % * Wien dinena ‘ > The Pass oF Uspatiata ALS iz (M9 Degevicr eae Dos COMPETITION ys Highest St . we F Building eer oF Rosier ? ExTRaorDINaRY * IN THE EVERSLADES” Ve 2 Waite MARaBouT™ 4 AMONG ARaBS 4 2 6000 MILES * ° ON HORSEBACK dust, to Thermopolis. oe a STB, s ThKEE MEN on Great Ga see THE MAP-CONTENTS OF “ THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZt NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURE IN THIS NUMBER. SETTING OUT TO RFGIN {Photo. When our photograph was taken the old man’s food and his money were gone, and he was starting again into the deserts in search of some ranch where he might obtain employment as a sheep-herder. springs had enabled him to stand erect and to walk with comparatively little pain. The et AgBoTT s ApvenTukes oF MAT SaLten "WHICH SHOWS AT A “GLANCE THR LOCALITY OF EACH ARTICLE AND

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“THEY SAW THE TOWERING ROCK, IN OBEDIENCE TO THE WHITE MAN’S ORDER, RISE HIGH INTO THE AIR.” (SER PAGE 110.)

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THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XX. DECEMBER, 1907. No. 116, THE “VWONDER- WORKER.” By GrarEME WILLIAMS. The story of a mining engineer’s curious adventure in Upper Egypt. The hostile attitude of the natives brought his party very near to starvation and himself to death, but by a clever trick he was able to awe both his own mutinous servants and the recalcitrant villagers. INING engineers are the pioneers of civilization.” Such was the dictum of Tressenty,* a stalwart, fair-haired Britisher, who had gone through many strange adventures in distant lands. After a distinguished career as a student in London, Tressenty was sent out to prospect for gold on behalf of a newly-formed ‘syndicate. His conspicuous success in this his first essay brought him to the notice of other important firms, and he was never without an engagement. One day, at a reunion of the members of the Mining and Metallurgical Society, he gave expression to the view above stated, and an interesting discussion was pro- voked. Once warmed up to his subject, Tressenty was an excellent speaker, and it took very little urging to induce him to spin a yarn about his recent adventures in Upper Egypt. ‘That story, which I was privileged to hear, I have set forth below as nearly as may be in his own words. On the whole, the trip was very successful, but it certainly seemed at one time as if I should be obliged to come home without having achieved anything, for some of the native head- men were terribly difficult to deal with. Pre- sents and bribes will make one fellow as friendly as possible, whilst another is not to be pacified at all. The old fellow who lorded over the district where I wanted to prospect was about the ugliest customer I ever had to tackle. From the moment of our arrival on the ground he did all he could to rouse native fanaticism against us. Of course, he had no firearms, whilst I was pretty well equipped in that respect. I dared not trust my boys with guns, however, and they were in a *This name is fictitious. The engineer in question is now prospecting somewhere in the wilds, and I have been unable to get in touch with him to obtain permission to use his correct. name.— Tue Autuor. Vol. xx.—14, blue funk for fear they would be set upon and massacred by the hostile tribesmen. The worst feature in the situation was the fact that I had brought only a limited amount of food-stuff with me, feeling confident of being able to procure more by barter with the natives in the district. Though there were goats and fowls in plenty, not one could: we beg or buy, and, under the circumstances, it would hardly have done to steal them. The situation was becoming serious, so I determined upon making a ceremonial visit to the headman to see what diplomacy could accomplish. I accordingly sent word ahead that I was coming, put on my most immaculate white suit, and set off to the village. The old gentleman was a_ very venerable - looking personage, clad all in white, with a long white beard, and he greeted me in the most stately manner. A meeting between the accredited ambassadors of two first-class Powers could not have been conducted with greater ceremony. After we had beaten around the bush for some time in true Oriental fashion and chatted on indifferent topics, through the medium of my interpreter, I at last put the question to him point-blank :— “Why can my men obtain nothing to eat from your people?” “Why should my people supply strangers and trespassers with food ?” he asked, sullenly. “We will pay well, and they will grow rich.” “They do not desire riches. We wish to be left in peace. We will not sell provisions.” “Then must I and my servants starve?” I asked. The old fellow shrugged his shoulders un- concernedly. “That will be as Allah wills,” he replied. This concluded the interview. There was nothing to be gained by prolonging the dis-

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108 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. cussion, for when an Arab consigns you to the care of Allah, he: will not be guilty of the impiety of interfering with Allah’s decision. My failure to get round the old man was serious, on account of the loss of dignity which it involved with my own men. If the English- man could be browbeaten by someone with skin as dark as their own, they reasoned, he was obviously not so important a personage as they had previously imagined. As I had feared, they began to be troublesome. They dreaded a time of scarcity more than any other evil, and openly declared that they would return to their homes if their lord and master could not prevail upon the headman to supply provisions. You may guess that I felt annoyed; it was up to me to do something, and do it pretty quickly. It would never do to give in, I could see that. There must be some way out of the dilemma, if only I could think of it. It behoved me as a Britisher, and, moreover, as Malcolm Tressenty, representative of an important syndicate, to devise some plan by which to triumph over the present difficulty. 1 had already tried an appeal to the mercenary instincts of the headman. Force was not to be thought of. There remained, so far as I could see, only fear. Could I so work upon the superstitions of the ignorant villagers as to make them do my bidding ? This was the problem over which I cogitated, as I sat by my camp-fire smoking my pipe. I formulated, but as quickly abandoned, plan after plan. And then, just as I was beginning to lose heart, an idea came to me. As a youngster I was tremendously well drilled in Old ‘Testament history, and over my pipe it occurred to me that I had to deal with the same sort of people whom Moses and Aaron used to overawe by working wonders. The Eastern mind is so constituted that an exhibition of apparently supernatural power on the part of any man will induce the people to obey him blindly. As I was bending over the fire, racking my brains to think of some scientific conjuring trick to make these obstinate villagers sit up, I suddenly heard a stealthy footstep somewhere behind me. On any ordinary occasion that would not have alarmed me particularly; I should have supposed that one of my men was going about his legitimate business, treading softly so as not to disturb me. But I knew the treacherous character of my retinue. So long as I was “top dog” they would be afraid to play any tricks upon me, but when they knew I had been successfully defied by an Arab headman they would be apt to believe my virtue had departed, and to act accordingly. So now that stealthy footstep had a sinister significance. The night was one of Egyptian blackness. No light was to be seen but that of the camp- fire. The noise, I thought, had come from a clump of brushwood a few yards behind me. With every faculty on the alert I listened intently, fumbling for my revolver meanwhile. Though I distinctly remembered that I had had it in my belt a couple of hours before, I could not find it now. Evidently it had been stolen by one of my men, who was probably preparing at that very moment to shoot me down from behind. These cheerful thoughts flashed through my brain in the fraction of a second. To move in either direction would be fatal, as the bright light of the fire, showing me up, made me an admirable target. At my feet was spread a heavy sleeping blanket, in which I saw my only hope of safety. Stooping slowly, I gathered it up and quickly threw it over the blaze, leaving the camp in absolute darkness. Then I flung myself flat on the ground and gripped the stool firmly in my right hand. Almost at the same instant a shot rang out, and I heard my would-be assassin emerge from his hiding-place. Believing me to be running away he took up the chase, firing in the direction he expected me to take. Realizing the hopelessness of shooting in the dark, however, the scamp came near me, intending to drag the heavy blanket from the fire. As he stooped to pick it up I collared him by the foot and brought him down with a crash, at the same time giving him a blow with the camp-stool, which effectually stunned him. I had the revolver again in an instant, and then, leaping to my feet, I stood on guard to defend myself against the attacks of his fellows, whose footsteps I could hear all around in the darkness. It was a ticklish situation, and so I decided to try bluff. “Halt!” I shouted, loudly. ‘Stay where you are, everybody. If one of you move, I will shoot him down.” At the same time I kicked the smouldering blanket from the fire. It blazed up at once, and by its light I could see all my men huddled together in a mob, trembling with - guilty fear. “What does this mean?” I demanded sternly of my interpreter. “Tt means, lord,” he stammered, “that we were threatened with death at the hands of the wicked man on whom your judgment has fallen, and, therefore, we dared not interpose. More- over, we knew that the great lord would be more than a match for him, and trembled not for your safety.” “Oh, you did, did you?” I said, dryly. “IT am not deceived. (T know. that you all

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THE plotted to murder me and steal my possessions, and I may yet think it necessary to have you all hanged; but, if you wish to preserve your lives, obey me now. Put down what you have in your hands. Come forward, two of you, and bind this man. Let him escape, apd your lives shall pay the forfeit. The rest of you go back to sleep. You shall hear my judgment in the morning.” They were all very much scared by the fate which had overtaken their accomplice, and no doubt ascribed it to some super- natural intuition on my part. Trembling exceed- ingly, they re- treated and left me alone. Con- gratulating myself on my escape, I judged it best to sit down again by the fire as if nothing had happened, to convince my men that I did not fear them. This attempt on my life showed me how necessary it was to think of something which would impress both the headman and my own servants with proper respect for my authority. Curiously enough, an excellent plan had occurred to me while I lay on the ground with that villain shooting over me, and this plan I now proceeded to carry out. Taking upd rock-drill I waited till all was quiet again, and then crept quietly out of the camp. You are probably aware of the curious veneration which Eastern people entertain for ancient landmarks. Now, about a mile away from my camp there towered up in the air a huge column of rock. It stood quite alone, ‘a silent sentinel over the surrounding plains, and was an object of great superstitious im- portance in the minds of the tribesmen. It seemed to me that this old rock would “ STOOPING SLOWLY, 1 GATHRRED UP THE BLANKET AND QUICKLY THREW IT OVER THE BLAZE.” “WONDER- WORKER.” 109 answer my purpose admirably. To- wards it, therefore, I bent my steps, and spent the re mainder of the night drilling holes around its base, each large enough to receive a gelig- nite cartridge. Before dawn I had completed a very neat little job, and the mighty land- mark, if all went well, was doomed to destruction. Having placed the explosive in the prepared cavities, I connected the charge up to a small battery, which I hid care- fully in the under- growth at a safe distance from the tock. To the un- initiated there was nothing to show that any prepara- tions had been made. I was back in the camp before daylight, and none of my men had any suspicion of how I had passed the last few hours. At dawn I ordered my interpreter to go up to the village, remind the headman that I had called upon him in state the previous day, and invite him to repay my visit before noon. Soon my man came back, bringing a dignified notification of acceptance from the chief. After a short interval the procession came in view, headed by the white-bearded old man, who was escorted by an imposing following. In his robe of spotless white he presented quite a picturesque appear- ance. I assumed a very dignified demeanour, and welcomed him without effusion. He, on his side, maintained an attitude of frigid reserve, as if he implied that the visit he paid me was not to be taken as denoting any weakening in his attitude. After we had had some refreshment, and come to an end of pass- ing compliments, I ordered my men to bring forward the miscreant who had endeavoured to take my life the previous night.

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- 110 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Turning to the headman, I asked :— “How would your people treat a servant who tried to murder his master for gain?” “They would torture and then kill him,” he said. “If a servant of mine dared to attempt my life, I would bury him to his chin in sand and leave him there to die.” “ Last night,” I told him, “a servant of mine stole my pistol, and would have shot me, but I am proof against all evil-doers, and foresaw his plot. Weaponless, I awaited his attack and stunned him with my hands. You see him before you now, and he awaits my judgment.” A gleam of interest showed in the old man’s eyes, and he asked: “How will you destroy him?” politely swallowing my lie about immunity from harm. “T don’t intend to kill him,” I replied. “It would not become me to punish so harshly. I fear no man, and, to show this to my servants, I shall chastise him and let him go.” “You will make him more your enemy than ever, and he will await a chance to destroy you,” said the headman, with emphasis. “But he cannot harm me,” I insisted. “I am absolutely proof against all attack.” “ He will steal your goods and return to his town.” “T should know of his intention and frustrate it.” “Do you, then, possess powers denied to other mortals?” inquired the headman, sar- castically. “T have but to say the word,” I assured him, “and thunder will strike my enemies and destroy them. It is bad for a man to defy me, be he headman or slave. The Englishman is just. Wherever he goes he pays for what he takes, and I will pay for food if you will sell to me, but if you will not, misfortune shall befall you and your people.” “Tt is foolish of you to threaten,” replied the headman, proudly. ‘ My people are numerous, and would kill you if I gave the word. I do not believe you can command the thunder.” This was exactly what I was waiting for. Springing to my feet, as if terribly enraged, I cried :— “What! You do not believe that I have this power? You accuse me of lying in my beard! You deserve that I should call down the thunder now upon you and yours. Never- theless, I will spare you; but, to show my power, I will blast with my breath yonder mighty rock.” My bombastic utterance lost very little in translation, for the interpreter was himself fully convinced that I possessed unusual power. The chief remained unimpressed, however, and replied contemptuously : ‘ That rock has been a landmark in the country of my fathers for countless generations, and neither you nor any other white man can injure it.” “Wait,” I replied, “and you shall see. Call your people together and approach the rock. I will bring my servants with me also, that all may see the wonder and know the power of the Englishman.” Somewhat awed, in spite of himself, the head- man ordered his fellow-villagers to follow him. I took my little band of men with me, and formed them up at a safe distance from the rock. The bound man trembled as he walked along, imploring mercy, evidently thinking that he was to be executed at the rock. Having placed them all in position with due solemnity, I ordered them to remain silent, made a hasty examination to insure against my brilliant little scheme missing fire, and then directed my inter- preter to harangue the crowd, in a bombastic little speech, something like this :— “O headman and all, my lord the English- man, to demonstrate how foolish it is to incur his anger, is about to perform a wonder. He will call down thunder to destroy yonder mighty rock, which has remained unchanged since the world began, and he bids you reflect that as he treats the rock, which is mightier than man, so he will treat you if you, O fellow-servants, rebel against his authority; or if you, O villagers, refuse any longer to sell him the food which he needs.” All looked impressed, but incredulous, till I motioned the interpreter to take his place beside the others and then turned my face towards the rock. Striking an attitude which would have done credit to an actor, I recited in my most eloquent tones the whole of Longfellow’s poem, “Excelsior.” At the con- clusion of each verse I shouted the. word “Excelsior” in a commanding tone. Finally, when I reached the last verse, I paused a moment before pronouncing the mystic syllables. Slowly raising my right arm and pointing to the rock, whilst my awestruck auditors held their breath, I pressed the electric button with my foot. . For an awful half-second nothing happened, and I feared that my plot had miscarried. Suddenly, ‘however, there came a _ terrific explosion. The very earth vibrated, and the terrified natives were petrified with horror as they saw the towering rock, in obedience to the white man’s order, rise high into the air and fall in scattered fragments. The force of the explosion threw us all to the ground, but directly the dééris had fallen, and even while the echo of its fall still reverberated,

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THE the tribesmenrose to their feet and fled, the headman first of all. The unfortunate _ pri- soner, though his arms were bound, fled with the rest, imploring them to release him so that he might escape from the demon English- man. As for me, I scrambled to my feet, secretly shaking with laughter, and re- sumed my impos- ing posture with handoutstretched until alone. Then I hastily gathered together my bat- tery and the tell- tale wire, and returned to the camp for a peg ‘ - of whisky and a oe peaceful pipe. It was evening before I saw any more either of my servants or of the villagers. Just before sunset a trembling group approached, dragging with them the reluctant prisoner, and accompanied ‘by the interpreter. Prostrating themselves on the ground whilst still ‘outside the camp, they tremblingly awaited my permission to approach. 3 “ Come forward,” I commanded. “I will not hurt you”; but they dared not advance more than a few yards. Then the interpreter, as their spokesman, began to articulate a carefully - prepared speech, although he was almost incoherent with fright. “O mighty lord,” he said, with chattering teeth, ‘mysterious wonder-worker, have mercy on thy servants, who, hoping to appease thee, have brought back the miscreant whose evil plan called down thy wrath.” Interrupting his jargon, I said,.“ Be silent! I do not need your intervention to take my ven- geance upon the miserable man. Had I desired it, he would have died even at the moment he planned to slay me. But I will not harm the poor fool. You have all seen what my word can accomplish ; it isenough. Release the prisoner, “WONDER - WORKER.” tt “*COME FORWARD,’ | COMMANDED, ‘I WILL NOT HURT YoUu.'” but remember that if at any time he, or any other, presumes to plot against or disobey me, I will destroy him in that hour. Now return every one of you to the village, and tell to the headman and to the villagers what I have done, and bid them bring goats, fowls, and provisions of every sort to me in the morning, and I will buy from them.” With the first sign of dawn such a procession of live stock crossed the plain as would have done credit to the camp of an army. Goats, fowls, and eatables of all descriptions were brought as a gift from the headman, who tremblingly approached, abjectly garbed, to make his peace with me. During the rest of my time in Upper Egypt I was known to all the natives as the ‘“ Wonder- Worker,” and my lightest word was law in all that district. I found it a little trying to bea demi-god, but I don’t doubt that since my departure they have fabricated an immortal ancestry for me, and I shall probably be handed down as a tradition for many generations as the “Mighty Wonder-Worker and Cousin of the Moon.”

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Through the Heart of China. FROM BURMA TO SHANGHAI. By J. Gervais-COURTELLEMONT. M. and Mme. Gervais-Courtellemont have done a great deal of exploration work in the Far Bast, but nothing more ambitious or perilous than the journey here described—a trip from the Burmese border across the heart of unknown China to Shanghai. Their experiences were many, strange, and exciting, and the splendid photographs accompanying the narrative add greatly to its interest. OR the third time in our lives we were starting on a journey through that terrible and mysterious land of China, where at every turn the traveller has the fact forced upon him that time has for centuries stood practically still. On this occasion we had planned an ambitious trip indeed, for we intended to start from the Burmese border and penetrate the unknown regions of Central China, hitherto quite untouched by civilization, travelling thence to Shanghai. We spent a few days at Bhamo, in order to collect our followers and the animals necessary for transport. This was the last Burmese town which we should see ere we plunged into the virgin jungle to begin our perilous journey. Getting our men together was no light undertaking. By dint of chattering and gesticulating with un- ceasing energy, how- ever, we at last secured two interpre- ters, a cook, and several “boys” and mule - drivers — all Chinese. We had brought our ponies with us, sure-footed, plodding little animals, which were to carry madame and myself. Mounted on these, with five mules to carry our retinue, our baggage, and our tent, we bade farewell at dawn one morning I. M. J. GERVAIS-COURTELLF MONT, THE AUTHOR, IN CHINESE COSTUME. From a Photograph. to the bungalow which the British authorities had kindly placed at our disposal and began our long journey. For the first few days we travelled through dense forest scenery of unparalleled magni- ficence, to the accompaniment of the melodious voices of multi-coloured birds. Giant pines impeded our progress and stately bamboos nodded to us as we passed, while the long’ tendrils of creeping vines entangled our own and the animals’ legs, as though reluctant to let us pass. A fairyland of flowers surrounded us, so glorious in colour that our eyes were dazzled and our senses satiated with delicious perfume. Europeans are seldom met with beyond Bhamo; as for European women, they are an unknown — quantity. No wonder, then, that Mme. Cour- tellemont excited the liveliest interest among the villagers on our way. News travelled fast ahead of us, telling of the arrival of a European traveller and— won- der of wonders !— his wife. So marvellous and unusual a sight was not to be missed, and accordingly the vil- lagers assembled in crowds to see the strange white lady pass. They were amazed to see her mounted and seated on her horse like a man, for she really

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THROUGH THE HEART OF CHINA. 113 looked more like a curly-headed youth than a woman, and very much unlike the gorgeous vision of jewel-bedecked civilized womanhood which they had conjured up in their simple imaginations. The accompanying photograph shows my wife in native costume,-as she appeared during the journey. We were now in the Shan States.. The people who came out of their dwellings to ee ee see us pass are E intermediary be- tween the Bur- mese and the Chinese. They are hard-working folk, and proud beyond belief of their indepen- dence. ‘They are good agricultu- rists, and make a fair living out of their lands, but they detest the British and © Chinese in equal measure, for they suspect both of being invaders. Some years ago they murdered an English official, and they told us that they had just made away with a hap- less Chinaman in similar fashion. While we stayed among them we could feel the subdued hostility which sur- rounded us, but, like true Orientals, these Shan folk succeeded uncommonly well in hiding their feelings. This was no doubt due in part to the unaccustomed presence among them of a European lady—a distraction I was devoutly thankful for under the circumstances. On a hillock not far away from our last camp in this region stands the farthest British outpost on this side of the frontier, the final link between the wilderness and the dominion of Britain’s rule. Crossing the river, we found ourselves in Chinese territory, and, strange as it may seem, the scenery around us altered as if by magic. A gloomy range of mountains faced us, as though defying our passage. Climbing a steep ascent to the top of a peak, we Vol. xz.—15. MME, COURTELLEMONT AS SHE APPEARED MORE LIKE A CURLY-HEADED YOUTH THAN From a Photograph. descended into a valley, ascending again only to find. the same heartrending work ahead. Our poor horses had difficulty in clinging to the treacherous, precipitous mountain paths, and in order to ease them we dismounted and walked behind them. Our well-meant efforts were use- less, however, for we found ourselves unable to obtain a secur foothold for any length of time. ; Our mounts evi- dently under- stood these things betterthan we did, for they were certainly more sure-footed on their four legs than we were on two. We there- fore mounted again, in fear and trembling, ex- pecting every moment to be hurled over the side of a preci- pice to eternity. At last, however, we arrived with- out accident at Teng-Yueh, where the fresh- ness of the atmo- sphere reminded us that we were now in high alti- tudes. Teng- Yueh is what is termed an “open town ” — Euro- peansareallowed to reside and trade there without restrictions. We were over- joyed to find a small English colony, consisting of four people—the Consul placed there in the wilderness by Britain as a species of political watch-dog, and a Commissioner and two officers of the Imperial Chinese Customs. . At Teng-Yueh we enjoyed the hospitality of the Chinese Deputy-Governor of the province in his official “yamen.” It was the end of January, and chilly draughts found their way even through our heavy clothing, for the rooms were built of loosely-fitting panels covered with thin, almost transparent, paper. There were copper braziers, in which we burnt small pyra- mids of glowing coal, but these were hardly sufficient for the purpose, and made but small impression on the icy temperature within doors. The yamen was depressing in the extreme. DURING THE JOURNEY —"'SHE LOOKED H.

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114 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Black with the smoke of ages, the ceiling was festooned with venerable cobwebs, and although we had the place brushed down it nevertheless presented a lamentable appearance, as may be judged from the annexed photograph, which shows our living-room in the yamen, with our cainp-bedsteads and other impedimenta. In the foreground a kettle is boiling on a brazier of red-hot coal. In marked contrast to our gloomy lodging, we found at the hospitable board of our English friends all the comforts so dear to the sons of Albion. The cooks and “boys” had been daunts the Britisher ; he will have the food he is accustomed to at all costs. Once upon a time Teng-Yueh was a prosperous town, but the Mussulman inhabitants revolted, and the huge Chinese army which was sent to repress them captured the town, sacked it, and burnt a large part of it down. Hence the walls of Teng-Yueh contain more open spaces than houses. To such an extent is this the case, in fact, that, with the kindly aid of our English friends, we were able to shoot pheasants and woodcock without leaving the town at all—a unique attraction to the sportsman THE EXPLORERS’ QUARTERS IN THE GOVERNOR'S VAMEN AT TENG-YUEH. From a Photograph. schooled to English ways, and had been taught when to bring in the roast beef, bacon and eggs, the boiled vegetables, the tea and toast, and the ~ whisky and soda, just as though we were in some hospitable home in England itself. It is interesting to note, by the way, that British colonists do things quite differently to their French confréres. French Colonials endeavour to avail themselves as much as possible of local resources, whereas the subjects of His Britannic Majesty will spend much money and take infinite trouble to obtain their flour, tea, butter, vegetables, and even meat in tins, fresh, if one may use the phrase, from their native heath. In fact, a whole English dinner will appear upon their delightful board as if by magic, obtained from multi-coloured and weird- shaped tins and bottles hailing from London, whence they have found their devious way by mule-back, man-back, rail, boat, and by what- ever other means were available. No difficulty Owing to the large areas of vacant land, all the life of the town is concentrated within a few streets where the buildings are most numerous. Here we hobnobbed with tiny-footed Chinese women, carrying heavily-laden baskets, hawkers _ of vegetables, importunate beggars, and, above all, pigs—pigs who are the monarchs of the road. From north to south and east to west, in every Chinese town the pig is the master of all he surveys. He costs nothing for his keep, his owner allowing him to wander at will, fattening on the refuse that meets him at every turn, and which is never cleared away by human hands. This unwonted liberty invests the Chinese pig with a “ personality” unknown to our porkers at home. He looks after himself, knows his master by sight, and returns to his home at his own sweet will. In fact, he is almost his owner's pet ; it is a common sight to see a fat Chinaman leading a baby porker by a piece of string, afraid that the new addition to the family should stray

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THROUGH THE HEART OF CHINA. 11S at $o tender an age. This friendly feeling, how- ever, does not deter the kindly master from slaughtering his pet when it is “fit,” to supply the luscious feast that porkers, unfortunately for themselves, are expected'to provide all the world over. The next photograph depicts a street in Teng- Yueh. Here may be seen the stalls of the hawkers and the ubiquitous pigs wandering hither and thither. reeks of decay and corruption, and one imagines that all kinds of horrors are hidden away amid the impenetrable depths of the dark and luxuriant undergrowth. Making our way painfully out of a fever- haunted forest, we saw far below us the valley of the Salween. It is called ‘The Valley of Death,” and well it deserves the name, for but few return who venture to brave its dangers. There lurks within its depths a horror called the A STREET SCENE IN TENG-VUEH—"IN EVERY CHINESE TOWN THE PIG IS THE MASTER OF ALL HE SURVEYS, WANDERING WHEKE HE From a) When we left Teng-Yueh we realized that it would be a long time before we should see another European face, hence the farewell hand- shakes with our kindly hosts were lingering ones. As we turned our faces onwards we looked upon a chaos of seemingly unsurmountable peaks, to which there seemed no end. Reaching the ridge Of the last range, we made our way through seas of clouds and then descended into the valley of the Salween, which is marked on English maps with the cheerful words, ‘“ Clintate fatal in summer.” This is not to be wondered at, since those-travellers who have ventured into these regions during the “deadly” season have never returned to tell the tales of their sufferings. It is indeed an awful place. The odours arising from rank vegetation which has been decomposing for ages past, and pestilential miasmas born of great humidity, assail the nostrils and well-nigh suffocate one. Everything WILLS, AND FATTENING ON THE REFUSE.” (Photograph. “putrid fever,” which kills inexorably in a few hours, the bodies of those who succumb to it decomposing at once. This part of the country is, therefore, quite uninhabitable ; and although the muleteers cross it occasionally they do so hastily, and with the fear of an unknown terror clutching at their hearts. We were fortunately able to traverse this pestilential region without mishap, and crossed the Salween by means of a magnificent sus- pension bridge of two cables, shown in the following photograph. The Chinese bridges are audacious in their construction according to European ideas of engineering. They consist mostly of powerful chain cables tightly stretched from bank to bank, loose boards being placed crossways over the links. These planks have a way of shifting most disconcertingly, and some of them rot away and fall, but Chinese indolence is such that no one ever thinks of replacing

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116 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From al them. It is, therefore, not an uncommon sight to.see a poor mule taking a plunge to eternity thfough one of these gaps, and if it does not fall completely through it generally breaks a leg or two in the process. f Beyond the river we entered a somewhat healthier region, although the villages through. which we passed were miserably poor and wretched. This vast region was so prosperous in the days of Marco Polo, when the Indian trade route crossed it, that it was known as the “path of jade,” or the “ path of gold and silver.” This route, of course, is now abandoned, and all prosperity deserted the countryside ages ago. Unfortunately, we were compelled each night to put up at Chinese inns. We should infinitely have preferred our tents in the open air, for while in these awful inns we were surrounded by nauseous stenches, innumerable vermin, and— last, but not least—the annoying curiosity of the populace, who stared at us as though we were a travelling show. We had no choice but to stop at the inns, however, for we realized that we were not our own masters; we were travelling under the protection of the Chinese authorities. From one mandarin we were sent to another with an escort of soldiers, who carried what may well be called our “ way-bill,” and we were compelled by them to put up for the night inside towns and at inns, where sentries were posted around us for protection. Our soldier friends, by the way, were rather Gilbertian in their dress and proceedings. Bare- footed, they were clad in rags with the excep- tion of a scarlet waistcoat, upon which was embroidered a huge Chinese character to denote the fact that they belonged to the army. They had rifles, it is true, but it is doubtful whether they would have been able to use them if occasion arose. Anyway, it was amusing to watch them as they used these weapons, held A CHINESE SUSPENSION ARIDGE ACROSS THE SALWEEN RIVER. (Photograph. butt outwards, to punch their horses’ sides or drive stray dogs away. I soon had an opportunity of learning, 0 my cost, how elementary was their knowledge of firearms. I had got into the habit of letting one of the soldiers walk in front of my horse carrying my shot-gun, fully loaded, ready to be handed to me at any moment, as not infre- quently stray pheasants would cross our path and I would shoot them from horseback. One day one of our pack-mules shied violently and, slipping over the rocks, disappeared head fore- most into the precipice below. My gun-bearer, in a plucky effort to stop the animal’s headlong flight, threw my weapon to the ground and made a dash for the bridle. Unfortunately the trigger caught in a branch of a bush in front, the cart- ridge exploded, and a shower of lead whistled past, just over my head, most of the pellets lodging in my hat! It was a narrow escape, and taught me a lesson; I shall never hence- forth entrust a Chinese soldier with a loaded gun. The unfortunate loss of the mule entailed a still greater one ; our remaining boxes of nega- tives had been packed upon the back of that so-called sure-footed animal, and the loss, situated as we were, was an irreparable calamity. A few yards farther on we discovered why the mule had shied—-at the bottom of a brook lay the bodies of a Chinaman and his horse. Our men presumed that the poor fellow had been murdered by “pirates” (robbers), who must have thrown the bodies where they were found in order to simulate an accident. There was little to surprise us in this, as outside the towns in China the solitary traveller is totally unpro- tected either by police, the military, or in any way whatsoever; he must look after himself. Our stolid retinue endeavoured to console us for our loss by assuring us that this was not

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THROUGH THE HEART OF CHINA. 117 From a) “ PEEDING TIME” POR THE COOLIES IN THE COURTYARD OF AN INN. [Pholograph. the last mule we should see tumbling down a precipice. I took a final glance at the murdered man and passed on. It was an unpleasant reminder of the perils in store for ourselves. We did not purpose making any lengthy halt until we reached a town called ‘ali-fou, and we only stopped to rest in wayside inns. More often than not our marches ended about five o’clock in the afternoon ; we thus arrived early enough to buy the necessary provisions. Upon reaching our inn, the least objectionable room would be made fairly clean and our camp bed- steads set up. While we refreshed ourselves with a wash, a cook set to work on our dinner and the next day’s luncheon, which was eaten cold at the midday halt. The large yard of the inn would be filled with our bearers and beasts of burden, and a deafen- ing pandemonium of voices and other sounds surrounded us. The burdens were removed from the pack-mules, whereupon the animals attacked their evening meal with great zest ; the men also were given their rations, whereat they became (To be continued.) happy as sandboys, cracking jokes be- tween huge mouthfuls of rice. The animated scene at “feeding time” is well shown in the next photograph. We were giving them the time of their lives, the men told us ; they were well fed and decently treated. Accordingly they be- haved like children, enjoying the pleasures of the moment with no care or thought for the future. Since they had been in our service a marked change had come over them ; from lean, half- starved-looking scare- crows they assumed the appearance of well-fed, well- groomed men of means. No longer did they begrudge the few coins which the barber extracted for his services in making them beautiful. This expert Figaro shaved both headsand chins, and broshed out their long pig-tail tresses. He pulled out the smallest hairs from ears and nose with a pair of tweezers, and his customers left his hands quite spick and span, the whole process being accompanied with much banter and laughing. _ Time flies, however, and soon our motley crowd retired to sleep, eight or ten men in a ‘room, each on his plank-bed covered with matting. Little by little the yard emptied itself. Silence succeeded uproar, and the acrid smell of burning opium revealed the fact that the national vice, that terrible scourge, was in full swing, the horrible fumes quickly numbing the senses of our retinue and putting them into a dream-haunted sleep. One by one the men collapsed, till at last the fumes had invaded everything and everybody. The only sound audible in that crowded caravanserai was the steady champing of the horses’ jaws as they munched the fragrant hay. Finally we ourselves fell asleep, to dream of the adventures that were in store for us ere our long journey was ended.

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The Shirt of Death. By Harry DE WINDT. A curious adventure which befell the famous traveller while in China. A weird and horrible Chinese instrument of torture provided the author with an experience which he will never forget. HAVE seldom travelled with a pleasanter companion than Baron Karl Von Blitzen, late of His Imperial Majesty’s | Pomeranian Lancers. According to his own account, the Baron was thirty years of age, but a notoriously genial past may have accounted for his less youthful appearance. Anyhow, the ex-lancer was more than good-looking, some- what dandified perhaps, but even in loose tweeds the man looked every inch a soldier, and had the tricks of. speech and manner that internationally cement good society. Von Blitzen was German to the core—a vertically- trained flaxen moustache and the usual “souvenir” of student days in the shape of an ugly scar across his face at once proclaiming his nationality. Also, his clear, honest blue eyes invited confi- dence, and I should, at one time, have called any man a fool for suggesting that guile in any shape could lurk behind them. We were at Colombo, that busy junction of the Eastern world where Piccadilly shakes hands daily with Peking and Meerut clinks glasses with Mel- bourne. The Candia had brought me from England; Von Blitzen had been globe-trotting in India, and an after-dinner acquaintance over coffee and cigars in the veranda of the Grand Oriental had ripened into friendship long before we reached Hong-Kong. Here our ways were to diverge, for my companion was making the “Grand Tour,” vid Japan, while my destination was Manila. But time was my own, so I agreed to defer my departure for a fewdays and accom- pany the German to Canton and other places of interest with which a previous acquaintance with the “ Flowery Land” had made me familiar. Chance acquaintances are generally dangerous, but there was no question about Von Blitzen’s respectability. Had he not invited me to dine on board a German ironclad, then lying off Hong-Kong, with the commander of which he was on terms of intimacy? And was he not the bearer of a substantial letter of credit (a MR. HARRY DE WINDT, THE FAMOUS TRAVELLER, WHO HEKE KELATES A WEIRD EXPERIENCE WHICH BEFELI. HIM IN CHINA. rom a Photo. by Elliott & Fry. “only took place just after dawn. portion of which I saw him cash) on the Hong- Kong and Shanghai Bank? Under these circumstances I saw no reason to conceal the fact that I invariably travel with Bank. of England in preference to circular notes, and that upon this occasion the sum of nearly one thousand pounds was secured in a leather belt around my waist. “What a foolish fellow you are!” said my friend one night, as we strolled homeward through the silent streets. “Some day you will be robbed, as sure as fate.” “The thief will have to be a tricky one,” was my confident reply. “ They generally are in this country,” rejoined Von Blitzen, with a laugh, as we entered the hotel; and the subject dropped. Canton was fixed upon as our first excursion, and the next day saw us on board one of the floating palaces that ply between Hong - Kong and the native city. Chinese river travel is the most luxurious in the world, and we sat down, as a matter of course, to a dainty déjeuner that would not have disgraced the Carlton. “IT must tell you frankly, sight-seeing bores me to death,” said Von Blitzen, as we dropped into deck-chairs after breakfast and, lighting our cheroots, watched the drab city with its greenery and bright pagodas rise above the dusty plain. “Temples and palaces, and that kind of thing, don’t interest me a bit. But they tell me the Punishment Ground of Canton is unique ; so by all means let us “go there.” But the portly, white-waistcoated proprietor of the little French hotel we put up at was over- whelmed with regrets. Alas! the executions We therefore resolved to defer our departure until the next day, and passed the afternoon in the bric-a-brac shops, or rambling about the crowded streets of the city, which for filth and variegated stenches outrivals Peking itself. A little of Canton goes a very long way, and it wasa relief to regain the

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THE SHIRT European settlement and, after an early dinner in the cool hotel garden, to retire to rest in readiness for, as Von Blitzen pleasantly termed it, the “ morning performance.” A villainous - looking Cantonese had been secured to act as guide, and was awaiting us at “(WE FOLLOWED HIM THRUUGH A MAZE OF NARROW STREETS.” an early hour. Hastily swallowing a cup of coffee, we followed him through a maze of narrow streets, ankle-deep in garbage, until dwellings dwindled and we neared the city walls. Immediately beneath them, on a sandy, treeless plain, a crowd of blue-clad natives had OF DEATH. 119 already gathered to witness the agony of perhaps a score of fellow-creatures. Oddly enough, the latter showed no signs of fear, but squatted in a circle around a rough wooden cross, chatting uncon- cernedly, and watching the preparations for their own mutilation with stolid indifference. Now and again a_ prisoner would glance towards the executioner and his assist- ants, who ‘were bustling about a table on which steel instruments gleamed dully in the sunrise, but the gaze was one of curiosity, not of fear. ‘There was nothing out-. wardly weird about the scene, ncthing to fore- shadow a ghastly tragedy. The laughing, chattering mob, the scent of tobacco smoke, the cries of “kabob” and sweetmeat sellers were more sug- gestive of a race-meeting than a human sacrifice. But an ominous silence fell as we elbowed our way through the jostling throng and seated our- selves on a bench in full view of the proceedings. For a. half-naked wretch had just been bound to the cross, and was already screaming under the preliminary cuts of the “ Ling-chi.” I will not harrow the reader with a description of all that we witnessed that morning. It would, indeed, be impossible, for the horrors of Celestial punishments as known to the civilized world fall far short of reality. I shall, there- fore, only describe the torture connected with this story—a torture usually inflicted for the crime of theft, and which, though comparatively painless at the time, is invari- ably followed sooner or later by a death of indescribable suffering. It is known as the “Wire Shirt,” and the victim is first placed upon a chair, to which his legs are secured by a stout leather strap. He is then stripped to the waist of clothing, which is replaced by a kind of jacket of fine wire netting—much the same stuff, in miniature, as is used in gardening at home. This metal garment, which fits closely

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120 THE around the neck and arms and reaches below the waist, is fastened down the centre of the back by a number of screws, which are turned until the strands are strained to the utmost, and flesh protrudes from every aperture. A man in this position is absolutely helpless. The execu- tioner then passes a razor swiftly downwards from neck to waist, right round the body, until every fragment of the exposed skin has been removed. Generally this operation causes little or no pain. When the shirt is removed its wearer presents the appearance of an animated chess-board, a fact which, upon this occasion, appeared to cause the victim almost as much amusement as the onlookers, - The fiendish cruelty of the “ Wire Shirt ” lies in its apparent triviality. ‘The poor wretch who has endured it is set free, and joyfully departs in the belief that his body will heal under treat- ment. But premonitory itching is soon suc- ceeded by the acute pain caused by festering wounds, Tiny gashes enlarge and join others until the sufferer, from the waist upwards, is a mass of raw, quivering flesh. Until mortification sets in the miserable wretch rolls madly in the dust or mire, vainly seeking relief and only find- ing it when death ensues, after hours of intoler- able torture, from loss of blood and exhaustion. A man may live for a day—may even linger on for thirty-six hours—but the result is, in every case, fatal. For this reason the “ Wire Shirt” is better known among the initiated as the “Shirt of Death.” A quarter of an hour of this revolting spectacle was more than enough for me, and 1 left Von Blitzen, who insisted upon remaining to the bitter end. When he turned up at the hotel an hour later, with a ‘‘ memento” of the morning in the shape of the metal garment of death, purchased for him by our guide, I could scarcely conceal my disgust, which Von Blitzen was not slow to notice. “You must forgive my fads, De Windt,” he said, with an awkward laugh; “1 have a mania for collecting horrors, and this will be such a priceless addition to my Black Museum.” A love of the morbid is probably infectious, for the same evening I caught myself carefully examining, with its owner, the hideous object that only that morning had caused me such repulsion The shirt, however, had been cleaned and polished until it shone like burnished silver, and its clever but simple mechanism was such a triumph of devilish art that it excited even my unwilling admiration. A trip to Macao—the Chinese Monte Carlo —was the last item on our programme. The liztle settlement is worth a visit for its natural beauties, but even Von Blitzen, a confirmed WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. gambler, soon wearied of “ Fan-Tan” and “ Poo-Chee,” either of which may be compared to a game of roulette with half-a-dozen “zeros.” Another week must elapse before our departure from Hong-Kong, and the social delights of even that hospitable little oasis were beginning to pall upon us. Two days had been spent in Macao, and we were already heartily sick of its stuffy gambling-dens and dreary Praya-Grande—a fact duly noticed by our observant landlord. ‘The latter was, it appeared, an ardent sportsman, and owned a small bunga- low three miles out of Macao, where, to quote his own words, “ snipe were as thick as the stars in the sky. Would the Sefors care to try their luck ?” he asked us. It was a lonely, deserted place, it was true, but the old half-caste in charge would see to our cooking, and he himself would supply stores and liquor at a price. Guns? Nothing easier ; mine host had a brace of breech- loaders which he would gladly lend us—also at a price ‘The scheme was alluring, so much so that the next morning found us discussing early coffee in a rough little shanty on the edge of as promising- looking a snipe-ground as I have ever seen. For once the innkeeper had not lied, for a capital day’s sport followed. Stores and _ baggage arrived at dusk, and we sat down toa frugal meal well pleased with ourselves, if not with our surroundings, which were truly filthy, But a bag of forty couple of fat snipe atoned for minor discomforts, and when our unsavoury hand- maiden had retired for the night to a neigh- bouring hut we decided, over our pipes and whisky, to prolong our stay in this sportsman’s paradise for at least a couple of days. Excellent sport followed on the morrow, but Von Blitzen went home early, pleading head- ache and fatigue. “A touch of fever, I expect,” he said. “Don’t mind me; I shall be all right by dinner-time.” And he splashed away home- wards through the stagnant swamp. . When I reached the bungalow my friend had apparently recovered, although he seemed less talkative than usual. His portmanteau was lying open in a corner of the room, and towards the end of dinner I noticed, with some surprise, that the famous wire shirt was reposing on the floor beside it. “What on earth induced you to bring that thing?” I asked, when the half-caste had, as usual, left us for the night, after setting out glasses and refreshment. “Oh—the shirt?” was the careless reply. “T packed it under a flannel suit at Hong- Kong, and brought it away by mistake.” “Seeing that it is here,” said my friend, suddenly, as if struck” by an idea, and helping

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THE SHIRT OF himself to whisky, ‘‘let us try it on for fun, and see how the thing works. Come,” he laughingly added, drawing forth a chair and the instrument of torture, ‘who shall the victim be, you or I?” Carelessly entering into the spirit of the thing, T removed my precious belt and laid it on the table, and, clad only in singlet and trousers, seated myself. ‘Don’t screw it up too tight,” I said, as Von Blitzen, having strapped my legs securely to the chair, proceeded with some difficulty to adjust the fatal garment. “ Hold on, you are hurting me,” I cried, presently, as the sharp wires cut through the silk jersey and Vol 96. 8 ete DEATH. 121 YOU CAN'T MOVE A FINGER NOW, CAN YOU?’ HE ASKED.” bit into my flesh. But the pressure increased until the pain became intolerable. ‘“ Von Blitzen,” I yelled, in alarm, “are you mad? What, in Heaven’s name, are you doing?” Without a word the German gave the screws a final wrench and stood once more before me. “You can’t move a finger now, can you?” he asked, in such a changed tone of voice that I glanced up with surprise. The smile had died out of his face, leaving a fixed and stony stare. Could this be the result of fever? Had his illness affected my friend’s brain? If so, my only safety lay in coolness and dissemblance,

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122 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. for no man, especially when he is as helpless as a trussed fowl, can hope to compete with a madman. “Of course I can’t,” I answered, calmly. “But come, old man, don’t you think this is getting beyond a joke? Undo this confounded thing ; I can’t breathe.” The words were scarcely spoken before the terrible truth dawned upon me. Von Blitzen, regardless of my entreaties, was already busy with the belt containing all my available wealth, and was slowly counting out the crisp notes it had contained. Some seconds ensued before, having completed his task, he carefully replaced them and turned towards me. “Seven hundred pounds odd,” he said, absently, as he placed the belt in an inner pocket of his shooting-coat. ‘“ De Windt, you have probably guessed by now the object of my little experiment.” I strove to answer, but rage and mortification held me speechless. “Tam sincerely sorry to have to do this,” added the plausible rascal, “sincerely sorry ; but, as you know, necessity has no laws. Oddly enough, the idea only occurred to me just before leaving Hong-Kong. I was even then doubtful of its success, for I am a novice at this kind of thing, but the devil himself must have had a hand in it, and sent us up to this place. An idyllic one for the job, isn’t it? Still, Iam sorry to have to deprive you of all this money—more than sorry, for I like you, De Windt.” “You have a confoundedly funny way of showing it, then,” I muttered, making a frantic but vain attempt to free myself. ‘Let me go, you villain, or——” “You've been a charming companion (it’s no use struggling, my dear fellow), and I shall always retain a pleasant memory of our travels,” the German went on. “ You will also find on your return to Europe that, with the exception of this little business, I have deceived you in nothing. Anyone in Berlin will tell you that eighteen months ago Karl Von Blitzen was the most popular man in his regiment, and was received in the very best society. ‘Then one fine day comes a little slip with the cards—a slight mistake as regards a friend’s signature, which changes the whole current of his life, and cruelly renders him less popular among princes than with the police. It’s a funny world. You noticed, perhaps, how intimate I was with the officers on board our flagship. Perhaps luckily, those good fellows have been on the China Station for three years, and scandal, in my country, does not travel so fast, or so far, as in yours.” “Scandal is a mild term for robbery,” I began, sarcastically. “My dear De Windt,” he replied, “there is not the slightest necessity for personalities. I have won the game, but I am going to be generous. Here are two hundred pounds, so that you may not be utterly stranded, but I return them to you on one condition: that you promise on your solemn word of honour not to * set the police after me for at least one clear week froin to-day. Refuse me this and I shall keep the two hundred pounds, blow your brains out with that shot-gun in the corner, and return to Hong-Kong with a melancholy but graphic account of your self-destruction.” The speaker paused, as a wild, reckless impulse to defy him and the natural fear of a terrible death struggled in my mind for the mastery. For a time I rebelled against the infamous proposal, but after a while, in sullen despair, bowed my head in assent. Then, with a smiling farewell, this consummate scoundrel left me bound and helpless, and vanished out of doors and into the night. I waited until his footsteps had died away into silence, and then gave vent to a succession of yells that should have awakened the dead, but which entirely failed to arouse our half- witted attendant, snugly snoring in her shanty, only a few yards away. Perhaps a quarter of an hour had elapsed, when a figure appeared in the open doorway. It was that of a man, and my heart leapt with renewed hope. But a second glance showed me that it was Von Blitzen, who had returned, and who, to my blank amazement, was standing, convulsed with merri- ment, on the threshold. “Own that it was well done, De Windt,” he cried, roaring with laughter. “Now, don’t lose your temper,” he added, advancing towards me ; “it was only done for your good.” A torrent of curses greeted my deliverer as the horrible shirt fell to the floor with a clink. “IT am sure, my dear fellow,” he continued, more seriously, “that in future you will see the advisability of travelling with circular notes.” What could I say? For, after all, the expe- rience was cheaply bought. But anyhow, I detest practical jokes, and could therefore, for at least twenty-four hours afterwards, have cheerfully beheld Baron Karl Von Blitzen helplessly writhing in the hands of the Canton Operator.

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Sport and Adventure in Central Africa. By Mayor P. H. G. PoweLt-Cotton. This absorbing account of a memorable journey has been specially and exclusively written for “The Wide World Magazine.” Major Powell-Cotton, who had already won fame as an explorer, left England in November, 1904, bound on an extended hunting trip in the little-known regions of the Congo Free State, and his tour lasted upwards of two and a half years. Married in Bast piiea in 1905, the Major's wife has since shared the hardships and dangers of the expedition— ly a unique honeymoon. Major Powell-Cotton has discovered six species of animals previously unknown to science, and has sent home the skin and complete skeleton of the mysterious okapi. His narrative will be found full of incident and interest. Ill. a Sm EFORE I enter more fully into the PAY E details of my life in the forest, it 5 ) will perhaps be better to simply me give my route through it, tell of " my journey to the coast again, to meet and marry my fancée, and our return to my old haunts for our honeymoon. This will avoid double descriptions of places I visited twice on my journey. From Irumu, then, I pressed on through the - forest to Mawambe, then turned my face to Mombasa, where my fiancée was to arrive from home. As I approached Beni, a station on the fringe of the forest, news reached me that the whole district was in revolt, and I found quite,a collec- tion of porters and natives—seen in’ the fol- lowing photograph—waiting on the road until an opportunity offered of accompanying an armed party to Beni. Some of them ‘had for over a THR AUTHOR AND HIS GUN-BEARER OFF FOR AN EARLY MORNING From a) STALK IN THE FOREST. (Photograph. attack them. I continued the journey with all month awaited the arrival of a friendly force under whose protection they might proceed, without which they feared the rebels might FORTERS WAITING FOR TUR PROTECTION OF THE AUTH From a) DANGEROUS COUNTRY. 2'S PARTY BEFORE PROCEFPING THROUGH caution, although I thought it unlikely that the rebels would attack an English caravan, as the natives living on the frontier are very careful not to provoke the officials on either side. The above photo- graph shows myself and gun - bearer off for an early morning stalk in the forest. Meanwhile dark rumours had ‘reached Beni that I and my cara- van had been cut up by the natives, and a little body of armed men, chosen from among the followers of the only chief who had remained faith- ful to the Congo Govern- ment, was sent out to glean what tidings they could. Judge of their [Photograph. delight on meeting my

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124 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. HE AKMED SEARCH-PARTY WHICH WAS SKNT IN QUEST UF MAJOR POWELL-COTTON, From a Photograph. caravan, safe and sound, a day’s march from Beni. This search-party, with their leader, is depicted in the above snap-shot. Even when the forest was left behind and I had passed through that station I found that the natives in the grass country of the lower western slopes of Ruwenzori were also giving trouble ; and one night, as I afterwards learnt, a rest- house and group of huts, not an hour from where I was peacefully sleeping, were set upon by these ferocious savages, sacked, and then con- signed to the flames. Several villagers perished miserably in their huts, rather than face the spears of the merciless marauders. Happily, in spite of many delays, I arrived just before the steamer from home got into harbour at Mombasa. The heat of the port was too overpower- ing for new-comers from Europe, so by the first available train I took my fiancée and her friend up to Nairobi, the capital of British East Africa, where, in the presence of General Sir William Manning and Mr. Twyford, the nuptial knot was tied. Then, accompanied by my wife, I retraced my steps to the great Ituri Forest. On arrival at Entebbe, where the safari was to be collected, my men met me with morose faces. I was curious to discover the reason for their altered demeanour, and speedily found out that they resented the addition of a white woman to the caravan. “ White women are always very bitter,” they told me, sagely ; but I pointed out that, if that was so, things would be much worse for me than for them. The tent boy, after considering the matter thoroughly, magnanimously decided that he would *try work under “ that woman” for a month and see what he thought of it. Our journey to Toro was unevent- ful, but my wife, new to Central Africa and life under canvas, was always finding something fresh and absorbing to which to draw my blasé attention. ‘The valleys clothed with feathery palms, sombre cactus trees, and other tropical vegetation, the great stretches of graceful papyrus which filled the marshy bottoms, the picturesque thatched rest-houses and native villages, all stirred her admi- ration. The photograph reproduced on the next page shows my wife’s hammock being borne through the papyrus of a swamp, over a typical Uganda causeway, in the construction of which these natives are such adepts. At Toro, where we spent some few days, the King-—Kasagama by name—and several of the principal chiefs came to call upon us; with them came the Queen’s mother, a truly imposing old lady, arrayed in a gorgeous silk dress. Another picture on the next page shows His Majesty in State attire. One of the chiefs accompanying the King wore a much-treasured and venerable silk hat. His whole demeanour suggested such unutter- able churchwardenlike respectability that we 5 THE AUTHOR'S WIFE, WHO SPENT HER HONEYMOON WITH HIM IN THE WILDS, From a Photograph. i ee ee

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t SPORT AND ADVENTURE MRS, POWELL-COTTON'S HAMMOCK BEING CARRIED ACROSS A SWAMP ON A NATIVE CAUSEWAY. From a Photograph. could not resist the temptation of securing his portrait. The nature of the country round Toro is volcanic, and not an hour from the station lies a series of little crater lakes. From our tent boy, who by this time had apparently become quite reconciled to “that woman,” my wife learnt a curious native legend connected with such lakes. According to him, in days gone KASAGAMA, THE KING OF TORO, From a Photograph. IN CENTRAL AFRICA. 125 by they were inhabited by a sacred serpent, an object of great awe and venera- tion to the surrounding tribes. When the country- side was in distress for want of rain, the Sitane, or medicine - man of the district, with three vil- lagers, went up the hillside to propitiate the serpent. Arrived on the brow of the - hill, outside the circle of holy ground round the edge of the crater in which the serpent abode, the Sitane lifted up his voice and said: “I, the son of this holy place, come to thee and bring thee food, and then will set up for thee a dwelling - place. Send us rain and I will do many things for thee.” This entreaty ended, the four advanced close to the place where the serpent lay and each built a grass hut. The TIS] A CHIEF IN HIS “SUNDAY BEST "= HIS WHOLE DEDEANOUR SUGGESTED UNUTTERABLE RESPECTABILITY.” From a Photograph. three villagers then retired, while the medicine- man, left in communion with the serpent, cut a handful of grass, placed it for a moment in the mouth of the sacred creature, and then descended

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126 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the crater to dip it into the lake. When he returned to the homes of men with the sacred bunch of grass in his hand, he gravely halted in the centre of the village and beat the air above his head with the grass, saying three times, “ Rain, come down!” Immediately, according to the story, rain fell, the crops prospered, and food was abundant. In recompense to the obliging serpent for all this bounty, the big chief prepared a present, consisting of one child, one black chicken, one goat, one cow, and one sheep—all females. These were carried up the brow of the hill by the villagers, and left just without the holy circle inhabited by the serpent. Then the Sitane and his son cut up the offerings alive and threw the Pieces into the lake to be absorbed by the holy waters, At Hoima, on a hill called Musaizamakuru, close to the boy’s home, he told us there was once one of these mystic snakes; but when he was a small child the serpent fled. It appears that at this time the Unyoro of the district round, under the big chief Kawulege, were in revolt, and had quartered themselves on the sacred hill- side. An expedition from Kampala set out early one morning, “when the chicken first cried,” to quell the rebels, many of whom were killed, and their flocks and herds were seized. Now, the sacred serpent had a sensitive nature, and could not bear the sound of a rifle or the sight of the faces of another tribe. So, “with a great cry of despair ”—it must have been well worth hearing—he fled from the place, and it was no longer holy ground. Later the missionaries came to live near by, so the serpent, being not only sensitive, but particular as to its neighbours, refused to return. On the morning of our departure from Toro, when we were actually on the point of saying good-bye, Kasagama, the native King, came hurrying up. We were not to continue our journey, he told us, when he had gained breath enough to speak. Natives were in serious revolt all along the slopes of Ruwenzori, our proposed path, and to proceed, would merely mean throwing our lives away. But a few minutes’ conversation sufficed to prove to us that he had simply heard vague rumours of unrest ahead, so we decided to push on and see for ourselves what the trouble was. Sure enough, before reaching the first Congo station of Kasindi, the King’s narrative was confirmed. From this post to Beni two Belgian officers and an escort accompanied us as a safeguard, and our com- bined caravan of four hundred men marched with rifle and revolver ready loaded, all eyes on the alert for hostile savages. The safari presented quite an imposing spectacle as it warily wound its way over hill and dale like a huge serpent. That our pre- cautions were not needless was amply proved when within a few hundred yards of Beni. The rearguard, thinking all danger was past, left our little flock of goats under the charge of two Nubian askaris. Suddenly, without warning, three savages sprang from behind a boulder and, rushing down, seized a straggling goat, with which they succeeded in escaping, but not before one of their number had received a bullet through his shoulder. The Semliki, which flows past the Fort of Beni on its way to Lake Albert, is a deep and rapid stream, in connection with which the natives have many legends. One of these struck us as particularly weird. Away down stream, they will tell you, where the forest is so dense that the river flows through a dark tunnel of trees, dwells an uncanny creature with the body of a monkey and a man’s face of revolting cunning, framed in snaky coils of black hair. When the long shadows of the setting sun leave the waters in gloom, this monster swims up stream and lies in wait where the eddies swirl, till the villagers come to fetch water for their evening meal. Then as one stoops down to fill his earthenware pot the “ Medu” (for such is the monster’s name) seizes him and drags him under the surface. There, after wrenching right round the man’s head, hands, and feet, it holds him above the waters for the villagers to see his sorry plight. Then it sinks again with its capture and swims away beneath the surface to its dismal forest habitation. Here it lands and throws its victim senseless to the ground. Searching for a banana plant, it strips off a leaf, rolls it up, and thrusts it down the man’s throat, to make him eject the water he has swallowed. The victim, thus miraculously revived, becomes the slave of his captor, for whom he has to labour incessantly. At Beni we heard that the rebel chief who had been sacking and destroying the villages and rest-houses on the road to Mawambe was still on the war-path, but we decided to continue, in the hope that he would leave us unmolested. Nevertheless, the first part of our journey proved an anxious one. The path, now practically deserted on account of the disturbance, was much obstructed by trees and undergrowth torn down by storms or passing herds of elephants, and often we had to cut our way through masses of tangled creepers. At night, when we pitched our camp, as shown in the next photograph, among the charred remains of a village burnt to the ground by the rebels, our flocks and loads were arranged near our tent, while our men drew in close. Huge bonfires lit up the scene,

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SPORT AND ADVENTURE IN and double sentries kept * watch while the other armed men slept rifle .at hand. At Beni we had been told that one of the head- men on the road to Ma- wambe had reported the existence of okapi in his district, but, alas! when we reached his village we found it in ruins; and some hours later, when he crept in under shadow of the dusk to see us, he said that the outlaws had fallen upon him in the darkness of the night, killed some of his people, wounded others, looted and fired the huts, and carried off the younger women. He and the remainder of his people had taken up their abode in the heart of the forest till ‘the big Bwana,” as they called the Congo Govern- ment, had restored order. He scouted the idea of my stopping there to hunt okapi, saying that none of “his” pygmies (as he named the group of these little folk under his particular protection) would go with me, for fear that at some unexpected moment a flight of poisoned arrows might be poured into us. Should this THE EXPEDITION CAMPING ON THE SITE bron: a Photograph, THB AUTHOR'S PORTABLE HOME IN THE A VILLAGE CENTRAL AFRICA. 127 (Photograph. happen to me, he said, he feared the conse- quences to himself. On reaching Mawambe we were told by the officer in charge of that station that no news of the presence of okapi in the neighbourhood had been brought in for months, but that if we would press on to Makala we would there find a native hunter who had shot the two noted specimens brought home to England by Dr. David. The district round Makala, indeed, was said to be one of their favourite haunts. We there- fore crossed the Ituri, which washes the foot of the hill on which the post lies, and set out on the direct road to Awakubi, whence canoes descend the Aruwimi River to the Congo. Two of the photographs depict respectively my tent in the forest and the quaint shelters of leaves and brar®heserected by the men. On the way through the trees we passed the place where I had _pre- viously hunted chim- panzee. One day, in the depths of the forest, we heard BURNT RY RENFLS,

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128 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE THE QUEEK SHELTERS OF LEAVES AND HKANCHES IN WITCH THE FORTEAS CAMPED, From a Photograph. what sounded like the beat of a drum, and my pygmy trackers muttered “ Siku,” their name for chimpanzee. A moment later we heard a chorus of the most blood-curdling yells—half human, half dog-like. Another day, just as a gathering storm had made it so dark that it was impossible to distinguish objects with any certainty in the gloom of the forest, we heard something moving towards us. Standing still, with my rifle ready, I could hear its pace quickening every second. ‘Then out of the darkness loomed a huge figure, coming towards us with the strength and fury of amadman. It was a chimpanzee. Erect, half- bounding, half-swinging itself from sapling to sapling, it crashed on its way. ‘Then, suddenly swerving to one side, it whizzed past, tearing down creepers and branches as it went. In the shower of leaves and twigs that fell around it, it was scarcely possible to distinguish what animal it was. It was during a similar forest storm that I received my first inkling that the pygmies believed in a Supreme Spirit. One evening, about five, as they came to fetch me, after lying through- out the day in the forest, a wind got up and dried twigs and leaves came rustling down, while every now and then a dead branch or limb crashed to the ground. With quick glances to right and left at the tree tops, my head tracker hastened his steps; then, utter- ing a shrill whistle, he placed his left hand to his mouth, made a sneezing sound into it, and threw it above his head in an attitude of supplication. As the storm grew and the thunder came nearer I saw him darting anxious looks on either side, till he espied a little shrub with leaves like a willow. Gathering a bunch of these, he pressed them into the palm of his hand, sneezed over them, and again extended his hand in TEpeeoS over his head. Presently a tremen- dous thunderclap burst overhead, whereupon he hastily plucked a larger leaf, wrapped the others up in it, and tied them to the top of a stick, which he then held aloft, and every now and then, to the accompaniment of shrill whistles, waved it round his head. On return to camp I obtained from him an explarvation of these strange proceedings. The first part of his ceremonies was an appeal to the Supreme Spirit to send away-the tempest. But, as the storm continued, he besought pro- tection for us from falling branches torn off by the wind. ; Leaving the Awakubi road to our north, we turned our steps towards the rubber-collecting post of Makala, on the Lindi, where, as shown in the two next photographs, we saw natives bringing in and cutting up the precious gum. At Makala I found Aguki, the well-known native hunter I sought, and he was immediately dispatched to look for fresh okapi tracks. What was my disgust when he returned, a few evenings later, to say he had shot an okapi! It proved AT A STATION, From a Photograph:

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SPORT From a) to be a fine male, one of a pair that were known to have been in the dis- trict for some time, Although it was impossible to deal with the skin as quickly after death as should be, I succeeded in preserving it so well that it is one of the best that have yet reached Europe, and can now be seen at the Natural History Museum, South Kensington. The snap -shot reproduced below depicts the drying of the skin. The skin and skeleton (shown in the next picture) having been dealt with, we moved out into camp in from a} DRYING THE OKAPI SKIN. Vol. xx.—17, AND ADVENTURE IN (To be concluded.) CENTRAL AFRICA. 129 search of the female of the pair. After days of tracking, just as there seemed hopes for the success of my uest, the yells of a band of native hunters driving game echoed through the forest. From the tracks we saw vat the okapi had taken flight, and all hopes of securing this coveted specimen vanished ; for tracking in the forest is at its best a most difficult task, while to follow an animal which has been seriously a si larmed is quite impossible. Sub quent search for traces of okapi in the surrounding district were futile, but I was successful in securing forest buffalo and the lesser animals. ‘THE HEAD AND SKELETON OF THE OKAPI. From a Photograph. Fresh provisions were scarce at Makala. Eggs were fourpence-half- penny each, fowls were dear, no sheep were procurable, and cattle did not exist. But the River Lindi, that flows past the post, provided excellent fish, among the best of which was one like a big perch, weighing some ten pounds. When freshly caught these fish will give the handlera strong electric shock. It was a regular joke of the post to present one to any unwary stranger who happened to arrive. Gratified at such a fine gift, he would eagerly seize it with both hands, on)y to drop it with a startled yell.

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THE MOUNTAIN OF THE BELLS. By Caprain J. A. SPRING. On the borders of the City of Hermosillo, in Mexico, is a volcanic hill known as the “Mountain of the Bells,” from which, at certain. times, come strains of weird and mysterious music. The author, curious to discover the origin of the phenomenon, was referred to an Indian, who told him the romantic story set forth below, which had been handed down through many generations of his tribe. |] LONG the western edge of the City , IW) of Hermosillo, the capital of the s AY | Mexican State of Sonora, runs a | Aa | long, narrow street called Carmel ~ or Carmen Street. Directly from the outer edge of this street there rises an eleva- tion which extends nearly the whole length of the thoroughfare, attaining in the middle part a height of some four hundred feet. It is evi- dently the product of a volcanic eruption, being composed entirely of lava rocks, which, upon being struck, give forth the metallic sound inherent to all such formations. The ridge is completely bare of vegetation, save in a few fissures, or cracks, where the decay of ages has formed a little soil and birds have deposited some seeds. The whole mountain is one mass of~rugged rock, whose surface is cut up into From a) THE MOUNTAIN OF THE BELLS AT HERMOSILLO, innumerable caverns, cavities, gulches, and fissures, surrounded on every side by small peaks, projections, boulders, and rocks of all sizes and shapes, thus making the ascent to the top quite a laborious task. This rocky hill is known far and wide as El Cerro de las Campanas (“The Mountain of the Bells”), because from it there issue, from time to time, the most wonderful and varied sounds imaginable, ranging in strength of sound and nature of tone from a resemblance to bells rung at a distance to a church organ played very softly or listened to from the outside of the building. Again, at times, especially when a light ocean breeze comes up from the Gulf of California, the music of the mountain seems to be that of a flute, at intervals weakening into a soft murmur ) UP katograph.

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THE MOUNTAIN not unlike that produced by a jew’s-harp. When there is no wind from any direction the mountain remains mute. I had visited Hermosillo on several occasions ever since the year 1870, and had repeatedly heard these mysterious sounds, but had omitted, chiefly on* account of pressing business, to inquire into their cause or origin. ~ A few months ago, however—in January, 1907—find- ing myself again at Hermosillo, with no urgent business on hand, I made up my mind to obtain information on the subject. Many were the questions I put to inhabitants of all classes and of long residence, but without results. The old residents, having heard the sounds from their infancy, took them as a matter of course, and later arrivals had become accus- tomed to them also. Mexican indolence did not encourage inquiry, and no scientific research had ever been made into the causes of the phenomenal music. I was residing at the house of one José Sermeno, a judge of the Superior Court and a relation of my wife. Wheg I broached the subject to hinr he remarked, with a smile :— “I do not believe that you will find in the whole city a single person who knows anything about it. You see, scientific research is not in our line. Our people are too indolent to ascend the mountain merely for the sake of investiga- tion. Moreover, in former years we have been kept pretty busy with revolutions, and now we give most of our time to the mining industry. However, now that you have brought the matter up, I remember that there exists a Yaqui Indian, named Manuel Sauripa, who used to tell a wonderful tale about this mountain. I think you will find him working upon the farm of a Frenchman—one Monsieur ‘lait — across the river. This farmer brings a load of vegetables to market every morning and stops at the Hotel International.” I readily found Mr. Tait on the following morning, and as-soon as he discovered that I spoke French fluently he immediately extended to me the hospitality of his house. He said that the Indian, Manuel Sauripa, was stilb working for him, and spoke of him in most laudatory terms. A ride of nearly an hour’s duration across the Sonora River and through the outskirts of the small town of Seris brought us to Mr. Tait's farm, where I was made welcome by the whole family. The Yaqui was sent for and soon made his appearance. He proved to be a man of middle age and very intelligent, speaking Spanish quite fluently, although with the peculiar grammatical errors characteristic of all Yaquis. Upon being asked what he knew about the OF ‘THE BELLS. 131 Mountain of the Bells and its mysterious music, his eyes brightened. ‘There and then, without further urging, he told me the curious story which I have here set down. What I know about this cero and its voices (in speaking of the sounds he always used the word “ voces ”—voices) is wonderful, but I do not like to tell it to everybody, because some people make fun of it and deride me. But 1 know it to be true—as true as the sun, the moon, the stars, the rain, and whatever we can see with our eyes. My father was killed by Apaches, when a young man, in the Sierra Madre, and I was reared by my grandfather, who was a direct descendant of many, many generations of our former rulers. He told me the story himself over and over again, as he had it from his ancestors, and surely it is true ! You see the mountain over yonder, whence the voices come? It is only a vast heap of rocks now, but it was once, long, long ago, a beautiful green hill; and all around it the hills and valleys were green with trees and pastures covered with juicy grasses and flowers. The rains were much more frequent then and the river never ran dry.. Our nation was rich and powerful—as numerous as the grains of sand down by the shore of the Gulf. It occupied the whole country from the “ Pimeria Alta” (now the eastern half of Arizona) in the north down to the sea,‘and all the lands around the Yaqui and Mayo rivers were ours. Large herds of cattle were grazing everywhere, and silver was as plentiful as brass and iron are now with your mighty people. Our Moctezuma (king, ruler) was a great warrior and wise ruler ; he was very tall and strong, with eyes like an eagle. No other man could string his bow; none could wield his lance ; his shield was of pure silver and shone like the moon at full. He lived on ‘the top of the mountain in a very large house or castle, upon whose roof was a watch-tower, from which signals of smoke by day and fire by night could be seen very far indeed, and were repeated from other eminences at certain intervals, to the very limits of his dominions. He had also established a corps of runners who would carry his orders with utmost speed from tribe to tribe. Around his” palace were many other habitations for his Ministers, wives, and male and female attendants. In front of his dwelling there hung between two posts a large disc of thin beaten silver, and when he struck it with his fist the sound it gave forth rever- berated to a great distance, and caused his chiefs to assemble around him. There was no more powerful ruler than Takahuitl, the Moctezuma of the (Yaqui-nation. His subjects

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132 THE WIDE WORLD were organized into large and small bodies for warfare, and he could assemble an immense fighting force in a very short time. Powerful though our nation was, and entirely at peace with the surrounding nations, still we had an enemy who would often encroach upon our lands, drive away our herds, and at times even succeed in carrying away some of our women and children, after murdering their natural protectors. hostile nation Comanches, and said that upon One occasion, many, many years ago, these men came mounted upon animals swift as the wind (horses). At first they had only a few, but later more and more, and at last they all came mounted, in large swarms like so many bees. This made their movements much swifter than ours, especially on level ground, and although we poe could, and did, fight and overcome them man to man, we were unable to pursue them with good results. At last a large war-party of these Comanches suddenly swept down the river from the Pimeria Alta, and between the present site of the town of Magdalena and this place attacked several settlements of our people, taking the inhabitants completely by surprise. They killed nearly all the men, carried off the women, children, and cattle, and destroyed the houses, crops, and irrigating ditches. When a runner came to Takahuitl with the sad news, the Moctezuma was seized by a great fury, and swore by the powerful Sun-god that he would have a terrible revenge. Loud and long sounded the calls from the My grandfather called this ° A YAQUI INDIAN CAMP NEAR HEKMOSILLO, MAGAZINE. silver disc on the green mountain ; fast and far flew the runners to summon the bravest and fleetest warriors of the nation. An expedition was quickly organized and set on the march, for Takahuitl intended to pursue the Comanches, if need be, into the very heart of their country, to recapture the prisoners, and to retaliate in full for the indignities, robberies, and depredations sustained at the hands of this savage people. In order that the home government should be carried on in an orderly manner, the ruler’s brother, rendered unfit for warfare by a wound received at a hunt, was appointed to rule during the absence of the Moctezuma, which was ex- pected to last during an unusually long period. The expedition started, following up the numerous tracks of the Comanches on the eastern side of the Sonora River. Long and (Photograph. weary for those remaining at home were the days of waiting, and full of anxiety, doubt, and fear. After a while a bright fire was kept ablaze nightly upon the watch-tower as a guiding beacon for the returning party. Nearly two months had elapsed when the disc upon the mountain rang out the thrice-repeated signal of alarm. The Regent and his followers rushed out to ascertain the cause, and saw, to their amazement, three Comanches coming at full speed directly towards the hill! Comanches they must be, for they were riding the fiery steeds of this people. As they came nearer and nearer, however, and abandoned the valley road, where a cloud of dust had partially hidden their persons, the general alarm turned into.joy. For their head-

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THE dresses and ornaments could now be easily distinguished, and it was seen that there were none of the short white feathers upon their head - dresses which the Comanches wore fastened in a circle around their foreheads. Instead, the long, straight eagle and hawk quills of the Yaquis stood erect upon their daocos. Approaching swiftly, the three raised their long lances high into the air, and with their shafts struck the glittering centre-pieces of their shields, MOUNTAIN OF THE BELLS. 133 had followed the trail of the robbers unceasingly. To prevent their riding off to some rocky mountain fastnesses where all tracks would be lost, the fastest runners of the Yaquis followed upon their heels and marked the route they took. The Comanches soon became aware of our pursuit and made all_haste to make good their escape. But upon the rocky hills and sandy plains of the Pimeria Alta, where water is exceedingly scarce, the unshod horses began to “THE ENEMY WAS FORCED TO MAKE A STAND ANU GIVE BATTLE.” singing the martial war-song so familiar to the listeners’ ears. Presently they were ascending the hill and dismounted in the midst of their eager comrades. Ah, the good news they brought! Takahuitl succumb, and many of their hoofs split upon the sharp edges of the rocks. ‘The pursuit, becom- ing closer and closer from day to day, lasted until the enemy, completely exhausted, was forced to make a stand and give battle. We

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134 THE WIDE* WORLD MAGAZINE. outnumbered them greatly, notwithstanding the fact that many of our men had fallen behind, exhausted by the ceaseless chase. Near the Great River (probably the Rio Grande) the two faced one another. ‘The short bows of the Comanches shot neither so far nor so sure as our strong bows, with triple-feathered arrows ; our lances also were much longer than theirs. The combat was short, but bloody while it laste. The Comanches were nearly exterminated ; our , women and children were recaptured, also the greater part of our cattle and many Comanche horses. On account of the general exhaustion the return trip was slow, and the three mounted men had therefore been sent ahead with the good news. There was great rejoicing all over the nation by reason of this eaploit, which was at once communicated by signals and runners to the remotest parts of our country. When, a few days later, the war-party returned, there was feasting without e¢nd. The fifty Comanche prisoners were distributed among the chief men, who took them into their families as servants. To the lot of Takabuitl there fell a beautiful maiden just budding into womanhood, lithe as a willow-wand, with long, dark tresses, and large, liquid eyes, at one moment full of fire and then, again, reflecting a melancholy languor. Her beautifully-rounded form was exquisitely moulded, and her complexion was much fairer than usually seen among Indians. ‘The people on the hill soon called her by common consent Lotumaia (the morning glory), she was so fresh and so lovely. As ‘Takahuitl’s first wife, Tete- meka, a woman already advanced in years, looked upon her with disfavour, the Moctezuma lodged her in a house apart, with an old woman as attendant. No menial work was exacted from her, but material was furnished her for the manufacture of moccasins, baskets, and head- dresses, an occupation which seemed to suit her. She also made for herself a kind of lyre or lute with five strings, with which she accompanied her songs. ‘The monarch soon grew fond of this girl and began to spend much of his leisure time with his beautiful captive. He would sit near her by the hour and teach her the language of our nation, while she instructed him in the Comanche tongue and interpreted her songs to him. They came soon to walk together by the light of the moon over the hills and down to the groves near the river, where they chatted and sang together under the trees. As he had swift animals now and had soon learned to make use of them, they would ride together upon the same horse from place to place, drinking love from one another's eyes. All these doings were observed by the now furiously jealous Tetemeka or reported to her by her spies. ‘Then came the day of unspeakable woe and sadnés ‘Takahuitl had been out hunting for two days, and, contrary to all previous custom, had returned without game. Lotumaia had also been absent, nobody knew where, during the greater part of this period, but had returned to her hut several hours before the arrival of her lord and lover. When the Moctezuma came, soon after night- fall, tired, hungry, and thirsty, the whole sky was covered with thick black clouds ; lightning quivered ceaselessly over the heavens, but no rain fell, He sat down upon a bundle of deer- skins before the door of his first wife’s lodge, and called for food and drink. His bow, quiver, and light bunting-spear stood leaning against the wall near him. An old servant appeared and placed before him some dry bread and a half gourd of water. Incensed at this treat- ment he, called loudly for Tetemeka, his wife. Reluctantly she stepped out of the house and faced him. Upon his angry request to be served with better food, he received the sneering and sullen answer : “ Poor food to a poor hunts- man.” At this moment Lotumaia, appearing from another direction, came forward and presented to her lord a savoury stew of deer- meat with newly-baked bread. He addressed her smilingly, saying: “Sweet one, how much kinder is your heart than that of my——” He had not time to say more. Like a fury sent by the Evil Spirit the jealous wife seized the King’s spear and buried it deep in the breast of the Comanche maiden, who fell dying even while she extended her little hand towards her well-beloved. Takahuitl threw himself upon her expiring body and withdrew the murderous weapon as her eyes melted in death. At the same instant a tremendous roar shook the air, as if a thousand whirlwinds had centred upon the top of the hill; the mountain began to heave hither and thither like the angry ocean down in the Gulf; the watch-tower tumbled down and all the houses shook ; the earth began to open in many places, emitting columns and streams of molten metals, accompanied by suffo- cating, sulphurous smoke. An immense fissure formed itself and swallowed in its mighty maw every living being and all the houses on the hill. In a few seconds the beautiful green hill had become the heap of rocks and stones you now see. But the voices—ah! the voices! Have you heard those soft, long-drawn, deep tones which the north wind carries down here? They sound like the large pipes om the organ in the cathe-

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THE MOUNTAIN OF THE BELLS. 135 “THE JEALOUS WIFE SEIZKD THE KING'S SPRAR AND BURIED IT DEEP IN THE BREAST OF THE - COMANCHE MAIDEN.” dral over in the city. Well, that is the voice of Takahuitl calling to his Lotumaia. And have you noticed the sweet, bell-like strains which vibrate far over the city when the gentle south wind reaches us from the Gulf? That is Lotumaia’s answer to her beloved. The great commotion and upheaval of the mountain has separated their bodies, but their souls live on for ever, with the power of calling to one another. So the Indian’s story ended. Concerning its historical accuracy, of course, I can say nothing. Undoubtedly, however, there exists somewhere on the mountain—at the entrance of a cavity or in some large rock perforated by many holes —a_ gigantic natural flute which produces the musical sounds, that vary according to the direction and force of the wind. No other explanation of the phenomenon seems plausible, and the exact spot whence the mysterious sounds proceed will probably never be discovered to the end of time.

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The Romance of the “ Weather-Plant.” By Haroip J. SHEPSTONE. A startling article describing the uncanny properties of a common tropical plant. it and other data an Austrian scientist, Professor The Professor has just established an observation station in earthquakes, volcanic eryptions, etc. By means of J. F. Nowack, claims to be able to foretell London; and this article not only explains his system of weather-prophecy, but details his adventures while seeking plants in the wilds of Cuba an DIG COMMON tropical plant is to play if K) an important part in the future in a’ Ba 44) predicting the weather and—what is Ox.) still more important—warning us of ‘forthcoming storms, cyclones, earth- quakes, fire-damps, and volcanic eruptions. ‘The statement is somewhat startling, but it is never- theless an established fact. Indeed, the dis- coverer of this wonderful plant, Professor J. F. Nowack, foretold, so far back as 1892, the earthquakes that have since taken place in Japan, as well as the calamities that befell Martinique, San Francisco, and Jamaica. Indeed, so much faith do scientists put in this plant that an observation station is shortly to be opened at Denmark Hill, in the south-east of London, for forecast- ing atmospheric and seismic disturbances through the study of the “ weather-plant.” Professor Nowack is now working hard in getting the station in order, and before long hopes to be able to present to the world charts giving particulars of the weather from seven to twenty eight days in advance. Before going any farther it is necessary, perhaps, to state that the plant plays only a part, though a very important one, in the prediction of weather conditions. The system is primarily based upon the dis- Mexico. called the “ weather-plant,” the botanical name of which is Abrus precatorius nobilis ; secondly, upon data obtained from the study of sun-spots ; thirdly, upon statistics continuously recorded of natural phenomena occurring throughout the world ; and fourthly, upon general researches in physics, geology, etc. After continuous observations, day and night, and cultivation under special conditions, Pro- fessor Nowack has discovered that the weather- plant becomes so sensitive to electric and magnetic influences—a susceptibility fitly com- parable with that of the compass-needle towards the magnetic poles—that immediately changes in the distribution of the electric and mag- netic forces of our atmosphere and earth respectively occur, the twigs and leaves of the plant perform peculiar and abnor- mal movements, each of which has a defi- nite significance. For instance, im- mediately a spot sufficiently large to influence our earth appears on the sur- face of the sun, the twigs directed _ to- wards the district affected make more or less rapid upward or downward move- ments. From the rapidity and extent of such movements, the direction in which the twigs point, and their variation of colour, the Professor can at once deter- mine the nature, covery of a tropical plant, commonly PROFESSOR J. F. NOWACK, THE DISCOVERER OF THE SYSTEM, From a Photograph. force, and geographi- cal position of the

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THE ROMANCE OF From a) disturbances that will affect our earth about twenty-six days later—#.e, when the spot com- pletes its first rotation round the sun. After discovering all this from long-continued study of one specimen, it was necessary to secure plants in sufficient quantities to open a station, THE SOME OF THB WEATHER-PILANTS CULLECTRD IN CUBA. “ WEATHER - PLANT.” 137 and to do this an expedi- tion was organized to hunt for the Abrus precatorius in the wilds of Cuba and Mexico. The party that left Vienna, Professor Nowack’s home, at the beginning of last year with the object of study- ing and gathering a num- ber of the plants in their native haunts comprised five persons. They travelled to Cuba via New York, reaching Havana about the middle of February. They stayed in the country until the middle of May, and col- lected, after many hard- ships, no fewer than two thousand four hundred of the ‘weather - plants.” Six natives were engaged to help them, making a cavalcade of eleven persons in all. But in gathering the plants on the outskirts of the towns it was necessary to have police protection, and five soldiers, in addition to detectives, were told off to keep their eyes on the party. [Photograpst. ‘THE PROFESSOR EXPLAINING HIS SYSTEM TO A PARTY OF JOURNALISTS AND SCIENTISTS IN HAVANA. From a Photograph.

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138° THE WIDE Shortly after his arrival 9%" in Havana Professor Nowack predicted a calamity which actually occurred, ‘The local news- “papers, scenting “copy,” sent reporter$ to inter- view him, and much of their space for several days was devoted to his predictions. “ Many of them were grossly exag- gerated,” declared the Professor, “and the people misunderstood the object of the mission ; they really thought, I believe, that I had come to inflict calamities’ upon them. So excited did they become that they wquld have done me and my companions _ bodily harm had it not been for the protection the officials gave us. As it was, my gardener and his assistant were attacked one evening in a café while waiting for a train, but by showing a bold front managed to escape.” — IN CUBA—THEY ARE HERE SH Altogether, WORLD MAGAZINE. © FEWER THAN TWO THOUSAND FOUR HUN From a Photograph. Professor Nowack’s impressions of Cuba are any- in Mexico, but here many st thing but favourable. He regards the people as uncertain and too fond of revolutions to make wild animals and snakes. the island a fit place for Europeans to settle in. From a) BRINGING IN "ANTS OBTAINED BY THE SEARCUEKS., [/Aofograph. DRED WEATHER-PLANTS BOXED READY FOR SHIPMENT TO EUROPE. The Professor had no trouble with the people range adventures befell the party in the way of encounters with “One day,” the Professor told me, ‘as we were making a short halt in a huge fissure in the plains, formed by some prehistoric convul- sion of the lava rock, a snake appeared, heralding his approach by a rattling like the shaking of peas in a box. There is usually nothing more shy and retiring in disposition than g rattlesnake, and the sudden appearance. in plain view of a good-sized snake, with his green, sheeny head reared in apparent anger, struck me dumb fora moment. Just as I was be- ginning to recover from my surprise one of my Mexican Indians slowly rose from the rocks on which he was resting, and ‘inclined his head and shoulders backward, with his right arm well extended. A lightning movement followed, and in that instant the snake disappeared. “The curious gesture of the Indian and the disappearance of the snake, looked like a con-

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THE ROMANCE OF THE “WEATHER- PLANT.” From a) THE EXPEDITION IN MEXICO. juring trick, but there was no magic in it at all. For the next moment my Indian had run to the spot where the snake had crawled from the bush, and there, as we crowded round, we saw, prostrate and still, a fine rattlesnake. The brute was thicker than a man’s wrist, about five feet long, and the rattle was intact. The head was the only part injured, and the manner of death had been by a stone, flung with unerring aim at its head. “ Another day one of the Indians was bitten by a rattlesnake, a fact which I did not know at the time. He was gathering some dry sticks from the underwood, when he was suddenly bitten by a snake whose nest, it appears, he had unconsciously taken liberties with. The whole camp was in an instant commotion. There was an object in the running hither and thither which suddenly seemed to possess the whole of the natives. Herbs were gathered and an infusion made of them over the spirit-lamp, which we were using until a fire could be made. In the meantime I had dosed the victim with almost neat whisky. He was sucking violently at his arm, and only paused for a moment each time I offered him the spirit, which is accounted by some a sovereign remedy for snake - bite. When the concoction of herbs was ready the bitten man gulped it down, applying the steaming hot remains of the boiled herbs to his arm. His OY, A\\\ THIS SKETCH GIVES SOME IDEA OF THE METHOD OF 139 comrades then bound up the limb, which had begun to swell. “T never spent a more miserable night than that which ensued, for I felt morally responsible for exposing the bitten one to the danger he had run. I am a man of peace, and the feeling of blood- guiltiness which brooded over me denied me sleep. At an early hour I got up, and, fearing the worst, inquiréd after the patient. He was asleep and snor- ing in the most contented of slumbers. The arm had certainly not become more swollen. Much re- lieved in mind, I again crept under my blanket, and it was broad day- light when I was awakened by the sound of dogs barking. ‘The first man I met when I left my ¢ent was the native who had been bitten. He looked all right, and told me unconcernedly that he would allow himself to be bitten every day if I would guarantee to apply the same remedy. I found, however, that the high opinion the Indian had formed of my whisky had no reference to its curative powers. The cure had been worked by the herbs, the identity of which I tried in vain to discover: from the Indians. It is a tribal secret which they guard most jealously.” Many other adventures befell the party during (Photograph. WOOL 0900 WYNN , _ BD. Chargeable a) vind Barsmeter. GTailing H Rising Baro, “READING” THE WEATHER-PLANT,

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140 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. their journeys in Mexico. One night a full- grown puma leapt into the camp, landing a few yards from where the Europeans were lying. A few moments later he lay dead, with several bullets in his head. Qn the great high plains some miles from Mexico City the adventurer, if he wishes it, can enjoy an impromptu bull- fight. The animals, though virtually wild, belong to the farmers, who raise not the least objec- tion if you slaughter one. Indeed, you often have to do so to protect yourself. The bull, if he wishes to attack you, lowers his head and charges savagely. “Several times my party had to shoot these wild bulls,” said the Pro- fessor, “adding yet another carcass to those which we found here and there, each one a grisly souvenir of some past encounter between the wayfarer and these rather big and dangerous game. “Once while we were winding our way along a deep gully our horses began to snort, and then to halt and stamp with their feet in evident fear of some mysterious and impending doom. We Europeans were in front, and the natives behind. We could not understand this behaviour of the horses, and determined to wait until the Indians came up, which they did in a few seconds, with scared faces. They informed us that there was going to be a deluge, and we should be caught like rats in the gully, and drowned, unless we could reach a certain part of the ravine which was scalable. I asked the Indian guide how long we had, and he replied, ‘Three minutes !’ In another second we were all plunging along that gully at a mad gallop. It was a life and death race, though we Europeans did not realize it till afterwards. We had no sooner reached a place of safety than a colossal cloud-burst over- From a\ THE PLANTS LEAVING NEW VORK ON BOARD A LIN FOR PLYMOUTH, took us. The water-simply fell in vertical streams. The air seemed to have suddenly turned into liquid, and what had been just before a dry bed of stone became a roaring, swirling torrent. A few minutes more, and no man, no horse, could have stood against the heaving, tossing mass, which .carried large fragments and trunks of trees along with it. The whole thing had been the work of minutes only, and just as I was fearing the rising flood would sweep us off the ledge, on which our horses had a pre- carious foothold, the rain ceased and the water began to sub- side again. Before long the stone ravine was drying under the burning rays of the scorch- ing sun.” . The main aim of the expedition to Mexico was to in- duce the authorities to open a station in Mexico City, while the journeys into the wilds of the country were made to secure, if pos- "Photegraphe sible, some of the weather-plants. But the Professor’s efforts to interest the Mexican Government to start a station met with no success, while his men also failed to secure the desired plants. Arrangements were therefore made to ship the two thousand four hundred plants already collected in Havana to New York. One thousand of these were left in the Botanical Gardens at New York, at the instiga- tion of Mr. Pierpont Morgan, one of the directors of the gardens ; the remaining fourteen hundred were brought to London. Despite the fact that a qualified gardener and an able assistant were told off to tend these plants, special arrangements made for their conveyance on the steamer, and every care given them when they arrived at Denmark Hill, only one of the fourteen hundred plants brought to London from Cuba is now living. The cost of this one plant virtually represents an outlay of a

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THE ROMANCE thousand _ pounds. But if the plants themselves were not a success the seeds obtained by the expedition have sprouted, and in the greenhouse at Den- mark Hill may now be seen one thou- sand eight hundred weather - plants all growing in Cuban soil, a large quantity of mould having been brought back by the party from Havana. It should be stated, perhaps, that all the plants are not of the Cuban variety, there being a large number of the Indian Abrus. By comparing these with the Cuban species it has been found that the PROFESSOR NOWACK'S NEW OBSERVATION STATION AT DENMARK HILL, LONDON, Fromaye OF THE From a Photograph. A TYPICAL WEATHEK-FLANT, (Whetog-aph, J “WEATHER - PLANT.” 141 former is the more sensitive, and there- fore the more reli- able for observa- tion. There is nothing wonderful about the appearance of the plants themselves. They bear no flower, and merely consist of a long stalk from which branch numerous twigs containing rows of delicate - looking leaves. Their odd behaviour, however, is very noticeable when pointed out to the visitor. The writer visited the greenhouse one afternoon at three o'clock, inspected the plants again at four o'clock, and also at five and six o'clock. ~During this

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142 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. period the various changes were decidedly marked. In some cases the leaves had slightly changed colour or closed altogether, while the twigs had bent themselves into curious posi- tions. ; All the plants are very young, only a few months old, in fact, and few of them contain more than from ten to fifteen leaves. Until the plant is more developed and boasts of from a hundred and fifty to two hundred leaves, practical obser- vations will not be attempted. It takes about two years for the plant to attain this desired state in its native haunts, but by forcing it is hoped that the plants at Denmark Hill will be ready for weather-predicting purposes during the present autumn. All the plants face one direction, and special stoves have been installed THE PROFESSOR IN HIS GRE! ENHOUSE STUDYING THE PLANTS. science. He threw upa post under the Austrian Government which brought him in four hundred pounds a year and a pension, risked the dis- pleasure of his. relations, and even broke off an engagement in order that his whole time should be devoted to giving practical effect to his discovery. : It was in 1888, at the Vienna Jubilee Exhibi- tion, that public attention was first drawn to the wonders of the weather-plant. Not only did the Professor exhibit a number of the plants at the exhibition in question, but he gave forecasts which astonished everybody in Vienna. The King (then Prince of Wales), who was in Vienna at the time, took a great interest in the plant, because the Professor was able to predict to the very hour that a violent thunderstorm From a Photograph. in the greenhouse to keep the atmosphere up to tropical heat. Curiously enough, the plants are more active at night. Between three and four o'clock every morning Professor Nowack is to be found in his greenhouse hovering over his beloved plants, for it is then that the most active changes take place. Another fact more extraordinary still is that this uncanny plant is highly susceptible to different people—a peculiarity that opens up possibilities of its applicability to mankind. Never mofe than three people are allowed to enter the observatory _at a time, in consequence of this. Professor Nowack—who, it may be added, is an Austrian Baron—was a comparatively young man when he made the remarkable discovery of the behaviour of this strange plant. It revolu- tionized the whole course of his life. He became at once inspired to sacrifice all to the cause of would wreck one of the garden-parties given by His Royal Highness—a catastrophe that duly occurred. The Prince sent for the weather prophet, listened with the greatest interest to his explanations, remarked ‘Good! That is what we want in England,” and invited the discoverer to visit this country. It is probably due to the interest that King Edward took in the new system of weather forecasting that has induced Professor Nowack to open a station in London. He has already a station in Vienna, and during the present year hopes to open another in New York. This will be followed by the erection of stations in Bombay, Tokio, and San Francisco. Many people may wonder, seeing what is claimed for the system, why it has not been adopted before. It has been simply a question of funds. Many, however, have recognised the

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THE ROMANCE OF THE value of the scheme. It is Professor Nowack’s intention that the whole world should benefit by it, and not single individuals or companies, and for this reason he has declined tempting offers for exclusive control of his system of forecasting from the Austrian, French, German, and Russian Governments, from the Sultan of Turkey, from Lloyd’s, and other great companies. One could quote at great length instances of wonderfully accurate forecasts which the Pro- fessor has made through the study of this remarkable plant. So far back as 1892 he deposited with the leading British scientific societies a copy of a chart, compiled the year before, in which predictions were set forth of all violent atmospheric and seismic disturbances until 1918. Up to the present all these predic- tions have been fulfilled. According to this chart we should hear of a terrible disaster in the near future in the neighbourhood of Teheran, in “Persia, to be followed by a catastrophe in * Havana, while 1918 should witness, according to this wonderful system, terrible earthquakes in Colombia. In 1892 Professor Nowack informed His Majesty the King of Italy that Sicily would, between June and August of the year following, be visited by great earthquakes after simul- taneous eruptions of Mount Etna and Mount Vesuvius, events that were justified to the letter. He informed the Imperial Turkish Embassy in Vienna on July 14th, 1894, that an earthquake would be felt in and around Constantinople on the following day. This forecast proved correct, to the great amazement of His Majesty the Sultan. The Professor further predicted the earthquakes of Adrianople, 1895, and Salonica, occurring 1902; and also personally apprised His Majesty, three months in advance, of the “WEATHER - PLANT.” 143 earthquake which took place in May, 1903, in Constantinople. He also forecasted the fire- damp explosion which took place in Stafford- shire in 1889, and resulted in the loss of seventy lives. There is another important office which the weather-plant seems destined to fulfil, and that is in forecasting shipwrecks. It has been shown by careful study that, when very low barometric minima or maxima prevail, the compass-needle is affected to such an extent that vessels are carried far from their course. In a scientific treatise on this subject it is shown, for instance, that the total wreck of the Drummond Castle (June 16th, 1896), near Ushant, whereby two hundred and forty lives were lost ; the German gunboat J/#s (July 23rd, 1896), off the coast of Shantung, China; the North German Lloyd steamer Sader (December 8th, 1895), off Cape Corumbeta, Spain, when all on board (two hundred and eighty-one, including pilot) were lost, etc, were not, as generally believed, due to the strong currents or drifts only, but also to the deflection:of the compass by the then prevailing atmospheric and seismic disturbances. It seems that the most dreaded and destruc- tive phenomena are precisely those that the weather-plant indicates with the greatest accuracy and the greatest length of time in advance ; accordingly, those severe disturbances which hitherto could not be foreseen at all, or at least not sufficiently in advance to allow of precautionary measures being taken for prevent- ing loss of life and property, are indicated with even greater precision than the minor non- destructive disturbances. Truly may one say that the Abrus, in the hands of the scientist, is a foreteller of disasters to come.

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A REMITTANCE MAN. By LEANDER KILPATRICK. An engrossing story of love and adventure in the golden Yukon. Concerning it the author writes: “The narrative is absolutely true in every detail, with the exception that the names of Sergeant Hargraves, his bride, and her aunt have been changed, at their request. Regarding the ‘hold- up’ at ‘Guthries,’ in Dawson City, I was in the saloon at the time and saw the whole affair, while the other details I got from the lips of the sergeant himself, with whom I was on the best of terms during my stay in Alaska in the years 1896-7. Mrs. Adams and her niece I had known previously ; I met them frequently, and had many opportunities of gleaning their part of the story.” OR years the Adams family had lived in the fashionable district: of Harlem, New York, and moved in the best society of that aristocratic section. Suddenly out of the blue vault of heaven the thunderbolt had fallen-— Charles Adams had been caught in one of those disastrous railroad wrecks that occur periodically in high-pressure America, and his handsome, attractive wife was left a widow. A month had passed since the funeral, and time, that wonderful alleviator of all human ills, had already somewhat softened the blow. ‘The sumptuously-appointed morning-room of the Adams home, as the early sunlight streamed through the windows, presented an ideal picture of refined elegance and comfort. Reclining in a roomy arm-chair, glancing over the pages of a newspaper, was Charles Adams’s plump, pretty little widow. Close by, in front of an easel, brushes in hand, sat her niece, Amy Andrews, a tall, dark-complexioned girl of about twenty-two. Nature had been lavish of her charms when ushering the lovely Miss Andrews into the world. She possessed a slender figure, finely moulded features, and high, broad brow, sur- mounted by a wealth of wavy, dark brown hair. With a brush poised in her slender fingers, she turned her head rather petulantly towards her aunt, while from beneath the long lashes there flashed a perplexed expression from the large brown eyes. “It’s no use, auntie, I simply can’t paint a mountain in this background from imagination ; just look at this thing I’ve done,” and a rippling laugh escaped her lips. “ Upon my word, it looks more like the smouldering ruins of a fire! I simply must see a mountain with my own eyes before I can paint one!” “Listen to this, Amy,” replied her aunt ; and she proceeded to read from the paper in her hand, apparently half unconscious of her niece’s remark : — “At this writing, the once dead-and-alive seaport town of Seattle is again teeming with life and activity, The city is rapidly filling up with a motley crowd of prospective Alaskan Miners, among them a small sprinkling of venturesome women, all headed in the direction of the golden Klondike. We venture to predict that this year of 1896 will break all records of mining excitement, and that golden Alaska— awakening like an infant in its cradle, after its sleep of ages —will shortly startle the world with her wonderful output of golden treasure. To those in search of adventure the wilderness of Alaska will prove a veritable treasure-house of delight; to the fortune-seeker, a paradise of opportunities.’ ” Dropping the paper Mrs. Adams looked inquiringly into her niece’s eyes, while into her own there crept a look of puzzled and surprised excitement as a dawning inspiration slowly formed itself in her mind. “What would you say, Amy,” she exclaimed, “if 1 took you to Alaska, the very birthplace of mountains and glaciers? Why shouldn’t we go?” she concluded, decidedly, noting the look of surprised horror depicted on her niece’s face. It was only momentary, however; the next instant it had changed to enthusiastic approval, as the younger woman sprang to her feet and cried delightedly :— “Oh, auntie! ‘That would be simply great!” “Then we will go,” said her aunt, with decision, rising energetically from her chair and clasping her niece affectionately in her arms. “Just we two. It will help me to forget my troubles.” Four months later, after undergoing the innumerable hardships and privations incident to travel in the land of ice and snow, that appalled stouter hearts than theirs, these two cultured and refined women were viewing from the door of their cabin home the snow-capped mountain ranges surrounding the new and bustling little mining town of ‘Treasure Flats, sixty miles from Dawson City. Mrs. Adams was plentifully supplied with money, hence the two women were enabled to provide themselves with many comforts and necessities denied to the majority of their fellow townspeople. ‘Their cabin, built at qv 6 Eg ee ee eet Mn ees cy

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A REMITTANCE MAN. considerable cost in this country of pro- spective mil- lionaire la- bourers, was substantialand roomy, con- structed of the tall pine trees of the valley. The interior, unlike the crude, ill-kept homes of the frontier, pre- sented an appearance of dainty cleanli- ness such as only blossoms under the hand of womankind. At first it was rather difficult for the women to adapt themselves to the rough life of their sur- roundings. The gambling saloons and dance- halls, with their attendant picturesque and at times boisterous frequenters, for the first night or’ two jarred unpleasantly upon their refined sensibilities, but their standing in the community as ‘good women” was quickly established and recognised, even by the roughest of the popu- lation. An evening spent at their home was a much-sought-after privilege, and the two ladies soon began to enjoy to the utmost the untram- melled freedom of border life. The invigorating climate, though at times bitterly cold, filled them with a new zest for life. They spent much of their time out of doors, snap-shotting the scenery, or bowling along the hard-packed trails behind their splendid team of “ Huskie” dogs. From a Photo. by) It was the latter part of February. Dawson City, the Alaskan metropolis, was in a fever of excitement. News of rich “strikes” and reported strikes flew like lightning from mouth to mouth. Arriving miners, with well-filled bags of gold, were “cutting loose” and “doing” the town in the latest up-to-date method. Everywhere the clink of glasses and the rattle of the dice-box and chips resounded. It was a very riot of gambling, and a veritable paradise for the gambler. Geod-sized fortunes were lost and won on the turn of a card ora toss of the dice. “Guthrie’s” gambling-palace, the leading saloon of the town, was a blaze of light and Vol. xx.—19. 145 DAWSON CITY. (WH. Raw. music. Short-skirted women, young and old, whirled to the tune of the waltz in the arms of their excited, blue-shirted masculine partners. At the gaming-tables was to be seen the feverish face of the ‘“tenderfoot,” with suddenly and easily acquired riches, wagering his gold with reckless carelessness, while opposite him, cold and sinister-looking, sat the professional, smil- ingly and keenly alert to all the chances of the play, coolly “ bleeding ” his victim. Suddenly, as if some magic spell had been thrown over the scene, a great quietness suc- ceeded the uproar. The dropping of a pin could have been heard in that strange stillness. With one impulse every face in the room tumed instinctively towards the door, as a deep, rough- voiced command echoed in their ears :— “ Throw up your hands, everybody !” Standing inside the door, with two heavy revolvers covering the crowd of surprised revellers, stood a beetle-browed, broad-shouldered man, his features half hidden by a black mask. “A hold-up!” shouted a gambler at one of the tables, springing to his feet, at the same time reaching for the weapon in his hip-pocket. At the cry several other excited men bounded to their feet, and four or five more pistols flashed in the lamplight. For a second or two the “hold-up” laoked like becoming a disastrous fiasco for the robber, but he was evidently a man of nerve and knew his business. In the twinkling of an eye, from the revolver held in his right hand, there came two quick reports. Apparently he was an adept with ‘the weapon, for the gambler who had first cried out

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THE WIDE “* BACK UP AGIN’ THE WALLS! toppled over on the table, shot through the heart, while another man who had also drawn his gun slipped to the floor with a groan, as the second bullet tore a gaping wound in his neck. “Throw up your hands, every man in the room, or I’ll sling some more lead around here,” cried the desperado, in tense, metallic tones, his lips parting in a wicked grin. WORLD MAGAZINE. COMMANDED THE MASKED FIGURE. Up went every hand in the place, as if with one accord. The quick, deadly action of the masked man had had its effect. There were over a hundred people in the room, but the robber’s demonstration of his powers was all- sufficient. No man cared to take further chanc “Back up agin’ the walls!” commanded the

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ine A REMITTANCE masked figure; “TI’ll plug the first man that makes a move.” He was obeyed on the instant. F Then was enacted a remarkable scene. Around three sides of the room, with hands high above their heads, stood fully seventy men, most of whom were armed, and some thirty or forty frightened women, all dominated by the fear of this one man, who, backed by the potent power of his heavy revolvers, coolly walked over to the principal faro table, and with one hand free swept the greenbacks and gold into his commodious pockets, proceeding to do likewise with other.tables until his pockets were filled to repletion. No one stirred during the process, for the keen eyes of the desperado, peering through the slits of his mask, swept constantly from side to side. His task finished, the man backed slowly towards the door, shouting :— “Now, boys, my pardner’s covering the back door, and I’m goin’ to watch the front for half an hour ; I sha’n’t be quite ready to melt into the atmosphere for that time, see? But,” he concluded, menacingly, as he reached the door, “the first one that puts his foot out of this shack’s goin’ to die, see?” , The next moment he was gone, melting, as if by magic, into the blackness of the night. For perhaps half a minute absolute quiet reigned inside ; then the frenzied miners and gamblers broke through the doors and windows, but the robber had made good his escape. The excitement of the “hold-up” hardly lasted over the night. Dawson’s population was a mixed community ; no one took much interest in anybody’s affairs but his own, and as the loss of the twenty thousand odd dollars stolen fell principally upon the keeper of the gambling- house, Guthrie, it soon became more a matter of a good joke than anything else. The cold- blooded murder of two men in any normal community would, of course, have aroused all good citizens, but Dawson was used to such happenings, and took the matter coolly, especially as one of the dead men was a gambler. In a few days, therefore, the little affair was almost forgotten, although Guthrie, the proprietor of the house, had offered a reward of five thousand dollars for the capture of the desperado and placed the inatter in the hands of the North- West.Mounted Police, perhaps the finest body of men of their calling in the world. Four hours after the robbery had occurred the machinery of this splendid organization was put in motion. There is no red tape about the North-West Police of Alaska. Their prepara- tions for the capture of the “hold-up” man (he had lied when he had spoken of an accomplice) were simplicity itself. MAN. 147 The commandant assigned the duty to one man— Sergeant Donald Hargraves, better known throughout the Yukon Valley as “ Big Don.” Sergeant Hargraves was a_ big, _ broad- shouldered, fair-haired Englishman of the best type, descended from a long line of sturdy English stock of good family and estates. ‘Big Don” was a gentleman and a scholar. A younger son of a younger son, who had been a bit wild at home and had been shipped over to Canada to tone down, he was a “ remittance man,” having no need of his pay.as an officer of the police. But the wild, free life of the mining camps appealed strongly to his love of adventure, and his two years’ exile in the Frozen North had sobered him down somewhat, moulding him mentally and physically into a splendid speci- men of the fearless, athletic fiontiersman. The sergeant’s preparations for the pursuit of the desperado were few, but in keeping with the necessities of Alaskan travel—a long Yukon sled, stocked with two weeks’ provisions, a sleeping-bag, a canvas “wind-break” (much used in place of a tent because of its light- ness), and six ‘“ Huskies,” the finest dogs in the valley, and capable of hauling his hundred and fifty pounds, on a good trail, fifty miles a day. The morning after the robbery dawned bitterly cold. ‘The brittle snow beneath the steel-shod runners of the sled emitted a crisp sound as the tall form of Sergeant Hargraves, encased in a fur “ Parkie,” waved farewell to his comrades at the post and commenced his pursuit. No man in Alaska was more familiar with the trails than “ Big Don” and none could cover more ground in a day when the matter was urgent. It was a foregone conclusion in the mind of Hargraves that the robber had “hit the trail” for the Chilkoot Pass on the coast, six hundred miles from Dawson, for the simple reason that this was the only available outlet from the country in winter time. It was fast travelling, even with a good dog- team, to make the journey in twenty-one days, and the sergeant felt morally certain of over- taking his quarry long before he reached the coast. Four hours’ start; however, was a stiff handicap to overcome, and “ Big Don” hustled his dogs along at a merry clip the first day, covering a good forty miles of frozen trail by nightfall. Day after day he continued to push his dogs to the limit, through blizzards and snowdrifts, at times compelled to precede the animals and “break trail” with his snow-shoes for them to follow. As the snow-bound trail grew deeper and deeper, his progress became slower and slower, until at last he was barely covering eight miles a

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148 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. day. He began to get a little anxious at the end of the seventh day, for he had not seen any- thing resembling a human form, or any sign of his quarry having passed that way. He had fully expected to overtake the fleeing robber four days previously. Could he be mistaken ? Suppose the fellow was still skulking around Dawson, awaiting the breaking-up of the ice in the spring to float down the Yukon to St. Michael’s? But, no; the chances of discovery in Dawson were too great. On the night of the “hold-up” two of the desperado’s victims, in spite of his mask, almost positively identified him as a lately-arrived “tin-horn” gambler from the States, named Jim Duncan. Duncan had the deep scar of a cut extending from the corner of his mouth to beneath his right ear, and the “hold-up” man had been similarly disfigured. The eighth day of the sergeant’s journey dawned with a bitter cold wind, driving before it the fine, brittle flakes of blizzard snow, which stung the face like the pricking of needles. For the first time during the pursuit “Big Don” swore as he struggled on in the teeth of the biting wind. “Curse the wretched fel- low!” he mut- tered; “if I get my hands on him I'll give him the jolliest trouncing he ever had in his life.” Suddenly his dogs came to an abrupt halt, and the leader, squatting on his haunches, gave vent to a long, mournful howl. A glance ten feet ahead re- vealed the cause. Half in and half out of a snow bank lay the dead body of a dog, evidently one of the robber’s team. The faint heat yet remaining in the carcass showed that his death had‘ occurred but a short time before. “Ha!” cried Hargraves, exultingly, as he made this discovery. ‘I’m overhauling some- body for certain,” and he urged his dogs on to renewed effort. His conclusion proved correct. Ten minutes later he discerned the faint tracks of a sled in the newly-fallen snow, and shortly afterwards, rounding a bend in the trail, he saw the dim figures of a man and dog team plodding wearily along about half a mile ahead. From the slow, laboured movements of the stranger it was apparent that he was badly fagged. Foot by foot the sturdy sergeant overhauled the team in advance, and soon the distance was narrowed by half. The desperado—for it was he—seeing that it was useless to continue his flight any longer, came to a halt and prepared for battle. A heavy Colt revolver gleamed dully in his hand, as he waited, with sinister mien, the approach of the big sergeant. Murder was in his eyes and murder in his heart—there was to “*Vou'RE THE FELLOW I'M at

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A REMITTANCE MAN. 149 be no mercy for the man who had tracked him down. Nearer and nearer came the pursuer, but still the murderer waited. The distance, a couple of hundred yards, in the dull, deceptive light reflected from the snow, made’ shooting very uncertain. He waited for another reason, too. For the past two days he had felt the first symptoms of snow-blindness coming on, and now, as he stood waiting to make sure of his victim, red specks danced before his eyes. He put up his hand and brushed them angrily away. Now was the time; his pursuer was almost upon him. He had raised the revolver to shoot when—presto !—the mists cleared, and he saw that the sergeant was yet a hundred yards away. A few seconds more, and the distance was just right. The revolver, always deadly in his hands, rose to the level of his shoulder, there came a report and flash, but still the big, fur-clad figure plodded fearlessiy on. He had missed ! The sergeant was very close now; he wouldn’t miss again. ‘Twice more the outlaw pulled the trigger with his half-frozen fingers, while the red sparks danced before his vision. The next moment he felt himself hurtling through space ; then came a terrific bump and a heavy weight settled upon his chest. Looking up stupidly, he beheld a pair of determined blue eyes scanning his features closely. “You're the fellow I’m after, all right,” ex- claimed the sergeant, coolly, “‘and for a ‘bad man,’ old chap, I think you’re a jolly poor shot. Now get up,” he concluded, removing his knee from the gambler’s chest, “and if you’re good I won’t hurt you.” The gambler’s revolver he had already stuck in his own belt. It was but the work of a few minutes to hitch the robber’s three dogs in his own team, when, after strapping that individual on the sled, the return journey was commenced. This proved uneventful for the first three days ; it was simply plod, plod, plod over mountains and frozen watercourses. The prisoner was only kept tied the first day, for the exposure and unusual exertion incident to his rapid flight had left him badly used up and very queer. On the fourth day they encountered a heavy snow-storm, making travelling very arduous. Several times they missgd the trail and were compelled to plough for miles through the deep snow to get back to the beaten track. The gambler being too weak to stand upright, it was necessary to carry him upon the sled, and, in addition to their other troubles, the “grub” was running low. “Deuce of a country, ain’t it?” grumbled the gambler that night as he lay shivering, with aching bones, huddled up in “ Big Don's” fur sleeping-bag between the fire and the “ wind- break.” “Country’s all right, my dear fellow,” repl.ed the sergeant, good-naturedly. “It’s only some of the people in it that mess it up.” He was busily engaged just then brewing a pot of weak tea for the sick captive. “Say,” suddenly exclaimed the latter, after some moments of thought and observation of the handsome features of his captor in the play of the fire-light, “I’m mighty glad I didn’t snuff you out. You're white, you are; there’s only one thing wrong in your make-up.” “ And that is?” inquired the sergeant, holding the cup of hot tea to the man’s mouth. “You're foolish,” replied the former, after a gulp of the hot liquid. “ Why don’t you take that popgun of mine and ‘let the air’ out of me? I’m no good, and never was. It ain’t a bit of use lugging me further, I’m about done for,” he concluded, earnestly. 3 “Couldn’t think of it, old chap. In the first place it wouldn’t be human, and in the next I always like to keep my word—it's a failing of mine. I said I’d bring you in, and I’m going to do it,” replied “ Big Don,” wrapping his tall form in the gambler’s flimsy blankets and stretching his feet gratefully to the warmth of the camp fire; “but at present I’m going to sleep.” Two minutes later he was slumbering as peacefully on his couch of snow as an infant in its cradle. : Fortunately for captor and captive the next day opened clear and bright, and they made good progress over the lost trail, which was picked up again an hour after the start. About noon another fortunate circumstance helped them on their way, the experienced eye of the sergeant discovering a little-used track, a short cut over the mountains to Treasure Flats, which brought them a hundred miles nearer provisions. Three days later the hungry and weary travellers looked down from the mountain top on the thriving little town itself, and two hours afterwards the sergeant, with his sick prisoner on the sled, bowled along the main street and pulled up in front of the Little Gem Hotel. Here the gambler, in the throes of a raging fever, was transferred to a bed, while the officer pro- ceeded to satisfy the inner man with an ample Tepast. It was some three months since he had been in this section, at which time it was simply a camp of a few tents. ‘There had been a wonderful growth in that short period. On the hillside there puffed merrily the engine of a port- able sawmill, the product of which was rapidly

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150 THE being assimilated into buildings, and an air of prosperity pervaded the whole place. A general store was in evidence farther down the street, and close by he noticed a theatre in course of erection. Mrs. Adams and her neice had at first looked upon their trip to Alaska as a novel adventure. They were both comfortably well provided with this world’s goods, but they had not been long residents of ‘Treasure Flats ere they, in con- junction with the rest of its population, hecame infected with the fever to dig gold from Mother THE POLICE PUST AT DAWSUN—SEKGEANT HAKGRAVES AND HIS DOG-TEAM ARE SEEN IN THE FOREGROUND, From a Photo. by W. H. Ran. Earth. Consequently, they had both staked claims on the gold-bearing creek adjoining the village, and each had hired a professional miner to sink the first “ prospect hole.” Mrs. Adams’s claim proved barren, but on the very day of “ Big Don’s” arrival “ bed rock” had been struck on the claim of Amy Andrews, and the first “wash-out ” had proved it wonder- fully rich. Naturally the young girl was highly elated at her success, dancing with joy when the old miner pointed out the rich deposit of golden grains in the bottom of the pan. She was not the only one, however, who saw and gloated over the new “find.” Usually, in all mining camps, there are to be found a cer- tain percentage of shiftless fellows ready to do anything except honest labour. Honour and honesty are always unknown quantities in their make-up. It was two such worthless scoungrels —big, hulking rascals, both—who were the first Qutsiders to get wind of the young girl’s luck, and they immediately began laying their plans WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. to profit thereby. Amy had christened her mine “The Harlem,” but she had not yet registered it. Now, the most unfortunate part of mining in such out-of-the-way districts of Alaska is the difficulty of registering your claim after you have found one worth while, the nearest land office oftentimes being fifty or a hundred miles distant. This was the case at Treasure Flats, the registry office for that district being Dawson City—sixty miles away. This fact, however, troubled the two women very little. They calculated that in two or three months—after the ice had left the rivers —they could, float comfort- ably down the Yukon to Daw- son in a canoe and file their claim then. “The Harlem” lay about a mile from the town, a good hour's tramp. Sam Olsen, the Swedish miner employed by Amy Andrews, happening to want some pro- visions and also feeling the neces- sity of a little relaxation, after his month’s labour, walked into town, leaving “The Harlem” untenanted for the night, save by his tent and a few crude household effects and tools. Sad to relate, poor Sam got royally drunk and “whooped it up” for two days and nights, painting the little town a rich carmine. The morning following the “strike” Mrs. Adams and Amy, clothed in short skirts, moccasins, and furs, tramped out to their claims. They had talked their plans over the night before, and had decided to employ three or four more men to open up “The Harlem” with greater rapidity. What was their amazement, then, upon arrival at the mine, to find all Sam Olsen’s belongings, together with his tent, dumped in a heap along- side the trail, no Samuel in evidence, and two villainous-looking cut-throats squatting beside a stove in a tent, planted squarely in the middle of the claim! They were calmly eating their morning’s meal. “What's the meaning of this? And what are you men doing on my claim?” inquired Amy,

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A) REMITTANCE in astonishment, walking up to the front of the tent. “This claim’s been ‘jumped,’” exclaimed one of the men, in surly tones, “and you’ve to git off our ground mizhty quick, see?” “Jumped?” exclaimed both women, in a surprised chorus. “Sure, jumped! That’s what I said. And you two want to get a move on you,” exclaimed the ruffian, advancing threateningly. There was nothing to be done, and the two women, much upset, accordingly beat a retreat to the town. This was the first case of “claim-jumping” in that section, and it aroused quite a sensation at Treasure Flats, particularly as tne action was against women, and those the only two females the town felt justly proud of. Nothing, however, could apparently be done. The scoundrelly pair of “ jumpers” were clearly within their rights. The claim had been left tenantless for twelve hours, and was therefore open for re-entry according to the Alaskan mining laws. All that was now necessary for the cowardly pair to do was to register the claim in their own names at Dawson and the mine was theirs. This they gleefully prepared to do. Sergeant Hargraves, introduced by a mutual friend, spent the second evening of his stay at Treasure Flats at the home of Amy Andrews and her aunt. Under the spell of the former's bewitching beauty he became deeply interested in her story of the stolen mine, recalling with a strange thrill of pleasure, as he sat in his room at the hotel that night, the girl’s face and her last words at parting. “You are such a big fellow, Mr. Hargraves, I Anow you will do something to help us.” The tones of the voice had been deliciously pleading, and the officer vowed that, if it were humanly possible, he zvoxz/d do something to help her. It was after breakfast the next morning, as he sat enveloped in a cloud of fragrant tobacco smoke, his handsome, clear-cut features wrapped in a brown study, that a noVel inspiration came to him, offering a solution of the problem. Suddenly his square jaw§ relaxed into an _ amused smile, and his big, muscular hand came down upon his knee with a resounding whack, as he exclaimed, delightedly :— “By Jove! Just the thing! We'll give those two scoundrels a jolly good shaking-up.” And he laughed outright at the thought in his mind. It was twelve o’clock that night, and the pale moon, high in the heavens, threw a ghostly light on the snow-covered surroundings of the stolen mine. Inside the dirty wall tent the two rascally “claim-jumpers” sat on either side of an ‘ MAN. 151 upturned soap-box, at one end of which stood a bottle, bearing in its neck a lighted candle. On the ground, beside the bigger man, was a half- empty whisky-bottle. The pair were evidently celebrating the advent of having “fortune thrust upon them.” “T tell you, Bill, it’s dead easy to make money in this country. All you got todo is to use your brains,” remarked the smaller of the two, leering patronizingly across the box at his com- panion, as he shuffled a pack of greasy cards. He had a bloated, dissipated face—the face of a coward. “Bother you and your brains; give me a good six-shooter every time,” replied the other. “How should we hev sniped this bunch of yellow stuff under yer feet it it hadn't been fer me?” demanded the first man, angrily, glaring fiercely across the box. ‘You ain’t the whole cheese.” Before the other could frame a fitting response a very strange and startling transformation took place in the scene. While the two rogues were talking a peculiar operation was in progress outside in the moonlight. ‘I'hree stealthy forms stole quietly around the back of the tent, the tallest. carrying a coil of rope in his hand. From the commanding height and _ broad shoulders, there was no mistaking the man— it was “Big Don,” of the Mounted Police. Quickly unwinding the rope, he passed one end to the other two men, while he, with the other end, walked away in a parallel line with the tent. When the rope drew taut there was a space of about forty feet between the sergeant and his companions. Suddenly, at a signal from him, they swept towards the tent at their top speed. 3 The rascal with the “brains” had just opened his mouth to speak when suddenly, as if struck by a tornado, the back of the tent crushed in towards them. Up came the pegs outside, and down went the ridge-pole and canvas. The next moment men, tent, soap-box, and whisky-bottle, propelled by the rope in the hands of the ghostly forms in the moonlight, were bumping and thumping over the frozen ground, in a heterogeneous mass, in the direction of the trail a hundred feet away. Amy Andrews’s valuable claim was tenantless a second time, and could be “jumped”! And “jumped” it was, very promptly, as the two previous “jumpers” could plainly see, when, battered, breathless, and bewildered, they disengaged themselves from the clinging folds of the tent. The sturdy figure of one of the ropemen, with feet firmly planted in the middle of the claim, stood “monarch of all he sur- veyed.” He looked. decidedly dangerous, too,

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152 THE WIDE, WORLD MAGAZINE. for in his right hand there gleamed the long barrel of a “forty-four” Colt. “Well, I'll be hanged !” shouted the bigger of the two roughs, springing to his feet in a frenzy of rage, at the same time drawing his revolver ; “Tl plug yer full of holes, yer ——” He didn’t have time, however, for the huge fist of “ Big Don,” who stood closé beside him, propelled by the muscular arm, landed squarely on the point of his unshaven chin, and he curled up in a heap, many feet away in a snow bank, dead to the world for a space of twenty minutes. “ By Jove!” exclaimed Hargraves, admiringly, stepping to his side. “That was rather a neat right-hand ‘ shift’ for a man out of practice, eh?” Olsen’s tent was quickly erected again on “The Harlem,” and that penitent individual — he was the man with the revolver planted in the middle of the claim—was left on guard. The two cowed and defeated rogues, seeing that the game was up, and having no wish to try conclusions just then with the sergeant, slunk back to town, vowing vengeance. Hargraves’s humorous description of the night’s doings to Amy and her aunt next morn- ing threw the two delighted women into con- vulsions of merriment. “Oh!” cried Mrs. Adams, tears of laughter in hereyes. “I'd have given a thousand dollars to have been there and seen the sport.” “Mr. Hargraves, you're just magnificent,” exclaimed Amy. And Hargraves, looking down into the beautiful brown eyes, saw something there that pleased him mightily. Affairs moved swiftly in the course of the next forty-eight hours at ‘Treasure Flats. The captured gambler, who had developed a bad attack of pneumonia, died suddenly, relieving Hargraves and Alaska from the necessity of further trouble. About four o’clock in the morning of the second day the two discomfited “ claim-jumpers ” made a hasty exit from the town in the direction of Dawson City. There could be but one explanation of this move on their part; they evidently intended filing their claim to “The Harlem ” at the land office. This, if consum- mated, would put a serious cloud on the title of Amy Andrews and possibly cause the loss of the claim. Hargraves did not hear of their departure until close on nine o'clock that morning, and he realized at once the necessity of prompt action on the part of Miss Andrews, or someone else on her behalf, to save her valuable mine. Why not himself? He felt that he had at last found the only woman in the world for him. They had known each other only four days, but wily little Cupid had sent his shafts true to the mark. At a hasty conference, therefore, between the sergeant and the two women, it was quickly decided that the former should hasten to Dawson at once and frustrate, if possible, this new scheme of the “jumpers ” by registering the mine himself in the name of the woman he loved. He felt contident of his-ability to overtake and leave the two rogues behind in the sixty- mile race over the frozen trail from the fact that, with his nine dogs, he was capable of travelling ten feet to their one, they being afoot. But, even so, their six hours’ start was a serious handicap. By ten o'clock “ Big Don” with his faithful “ Huskies ” had left the town at a rapid pace, and was bowling merrily along on the track of the two scoundrels. For three hours the hardy dogs kept on the run, urged on by the crack of the long whip and occasional familiar Alaska shout, ‘ Mush ! Mush!” from their driver. The pace, however, was a killing one, and ere long the rapid rate of travel was slackened to a slow trot of five miles an hour. ‘The trail was, fortunately, good and the weather clear and cold. By three o'clock in the afternoon twenty-five miles had been covered, and Hargraves felt sure that he must soon come in sight of the “jumpers.” Nor was he much out in his calculation. Half an hour later, while passing through a deep, snow-clad ravine, he was suddehly startled by a puff of smoke and a sharp report from behind a pile of snow-covered rocks on the right. Four or five more shots followed in rapid succession. Two of his dogs, with savage howls, dropped in their tracks, and a couple of bullets, with a peculiar chilling zing | zing ! imparted by the low temperature, whistled dangerously close to his own head. With a bound, the officer was off the sled and running with great strides in the direction of the shots. There was a decidedly ugly look around the corners of the firm mouth, and the usually laughing blue eyes gleamed savagely as he leapt over the rocks and came upon the two murderous villains. Fortunately for Hargraves, they had but the one revolver between them. It had been emptied at the first fusillade, and the larger man, with frantic haste, was now trying to reload it. With his half-frozen fingers, however, he was finding it a difficult task. Utterly fearless of consequences, “ Big Don” sprang into battle. ‘The smaller man being the closer received the first dose of what was coming. ‘The sergeant’s big fist landed with crushing force on the-side of the bloated jaw, cm pS a a a er a er a te rr ae

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A REMITTANCE MAN. 153 and the man dropped as though struck with a pole- axé, and lay quite still. The big ruffian, however, . although a coward at heart, knowing that he had no alternative except to fight, struck a wicked blow with the butt of the revolver as Hargraves closed with him. Had it landed fair it would have been all over with “ Big Don.” Fortunately his fur cap—the heavy butt of the gun landed just above the temple—dulled much of the force; but, as it was, his big frame reeled drunkenly with the shock. Though stunned and half blinded from the blood trickling into his eyes, the game, fighting blood of the sturdy Englishman proved his worth, He grappled _ fiercely with the burly ruffian, and the two figures reeled and stumbled about among the slippery rocks, locked in a deadly embrace, the brute instinct of conquest paramount ineach. Again and again the villain struck savagely with the revolver-butt at the blood- stained face that towered above him. At each stroke, however, the ser- geant, with the trained instinct of the expert boxer, dodged the blows. His muddled brain was clearing each moment, and the splendid muscles of the athletic body soon began to vibrate again with their accus- tomed vigour. shot up and closed with an iron grip around the bearded throat of his adversary. The next moment the revolver was torn from the rascal’s grasp and he was lifted bodily, high above his opponent's head, and dashed fiercely down upon the rocks, where he lay unconscious. “Big Don,” with the two villains strapped securely upon his sled, arrived in Dawson City that night at twelve o’clock, dogs and man utterly fagged out, having covered a distance of sixty miles in the space of fourteen hours—a feat which, considering the mountainous region through which the trail ran, has never been Vol, xx.—20. “Hig WAS LIFTBO BODILY, HIGH ABOVE His OPPONENT'S HEAD, AND DASHED FIBRCELY DOWN Suddenly -one powerful hand - UPON THE ROCKS.” equalled in that section. After registering the mine and putting his prisoners’ legal punish- ment into operaion, he returned with all speed to Treasure Flats. I met Mrs. Adams and Mr. and Mrs. Hargraves — née Amy Andrews—in Seattle during the latter part of 1898. “Big Don” had resigned from the Alaskan Police, ‘‘ The Harlem” had been sold for a good round sum, and all three were en route for New York. Looking at the handsome, happy couple as they stepped aboard the train, there came upon me the thought that I had missed something in life. I did not envy the big fellow’s good looks, nor his fortune; it was something far more valu- able —I envied him the possession of the beautiful woman, by his side.

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The “White Marabout” Among the Arabs. By THE BARONESS DE Borrio. The authoress is the wife of a French officer of Spahis, stationed in Tunis, who has won the confidence and esteem of the Arabs to an unusual extent. ing to her success in treating minor ailments, the grateful tribesmen bestowed upon the Baroness the title of the ‘‘ White Marabout” (doctor), and gave her the freedom of their homes. In these chatty articles she describes in amusing fashion her experiences while spending a holiday with an Arab tribe. Il. NCE again my children and I were cutting through the blue waters of the Mediterranean in our Arab sail- ing-boat, accompanied by our faithful —— Hassen and the boy Rachid. Hassen looked anxious, for although his marriage was fixed for that day week, and the festivities were to begin the day after our arrival, he foresaw that he was not yet at the end of his troubles. He had had great difficulty in gaining both his father’s and father-in-law’s consent to his marriage ; to do so he had enlisted for three years, and now the point seemed gained he grew nervous, for tle dada, his father-in- law, wore an ominous frown on his naturally severe countenance, and appeared over-ready to find fault with everything and everybody. Our departure from Sfax was really most amusing. @ “Time is not money” to Orientals, as everyone knows. ‘To-day, to-morrow, or the next day, morning, noon, or evening will gener- ally answer the purpose very well. I knew this, and, although I had been told by Hassen that we must be down at the fishing port at ten o'clock sharp, I made no effort to leave home with my children, mat- tresses, and various elegant bundles until three o'clock. I found everyone on board except the captain of the boat. It was whispered that he was lingering in some café, and was addicted to absinthe. After wait- ing-half an hour Hassen thought he had better go and fetch the truant. Time passed and Hassen THE ARAB FISHING-BOAT IN WHICH THE AUTHOKESS JOURNEYED TO THE WEDDING. From a Photograph. did not return, so Brahim, his brother, went to see what had become of Aim. Meanwhile the two old fathers were holding a grand con- fabulation in the prow, which ended in their landing and stalking off majestically towards the Arab town, presumably to look for the others. Then Rachid had a happy thought concerning fish, fruit, and charcoal, which, considering that I had brought all necessary provisions, seemed to me more vague than happy. In any case, he too disappeared, and we found ourselves alone in the boat with El Hadj. He began murmuring something about sacks of grain, which prepared me for his sudden departure some ten minutes after. It was intensely amusing, and we laughed till the people around stared in surprise. However, they - all came back in course of time, the “captain” sup- ported by Hassen, who shoved him unceremoni- -ously under the half-decked prow and told him to stay there, which he obediently did for some time. We actually set sail at about half-past six, but as we were rounding the commercial quay I suddenly missed the éaba. “He had not finished his business,” explained Hassen; “my father and he are seeing about the jewellery, and the Jew had not finished it. He is waiting for it, and will join us at the phosphate quay.” We therefore waited another half-hour at the end of the phosphate quay, until the dada put in an appear- ance, slightly heated, but

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‘THE majestic withal, and announced in calm, deliberate tones that he was not coming with us, for that “dog of-a Jew” had not executed his orders properly, and needed, as did all of his race, an eye kept upon him. Finally, however, we got off, and, as it was now getting late, we sat down in a circle on our respective mattresses and did justice to two cold chickens and some few pounds of Muscat grapes. Just as we finished our inebriated captain crawled out of his hole and, lurching past me, nearly treading on my hand with his bare feet, made his way towards the steersman, who happened to be Hassen. Suddenly, after a few words from the latter, a great uproar and struggle took place between the men. Our captain behaved most up- roariously, trying to take the rudder and let down the great sail. He was mastered without much trouble, however, and Hassen explained to us, apologetically, that on his father telling the man to pay more attention and respect to the “ White Marabout,” on whose hand he had nearly trod, he had got in a rage, and declared that, the boat being his, he was not going to receive orders from anyone, and was going back to Sfax. Hence the struggle for the rudder and his effort to lower the sail. “WHITE MARABOUT” — a AMONG THE ARABS. 155 We dropped our anchor about midnight in the little fishing port of La Chebba, and all slept peacefully until the sun’s burning rays and the smell of Rachid's fragrant coffee awoke us. We waded to land as we had done the previous year, and then proceeded to the house the sheikh had kindly put at our disposal. It was an ordinary Arab house containing four long, narrow rooms, all opening out on a large court- yard, shaded by a luxuriant vine and planted with the many aromatic plants dear to the Arab heart. Another room led from the inner court to the outer massive and barred door, and this apartment we made our dining-room. There was no furniture in the house, of ‘course, except two long benches which generally serve to raise from the ground the mattresses of those who object to sundry kinds of insects crawling over them. These I made tables of, after a good scrubbing, and used the Indian matting to keep the damp from the mattresses. We had just finished this little arrangement when my husband, who had travelled overland, arrived with the horses and Belkacem, our black soldier servant. Our meals were rather curious. The table was so low we could not get our knees under, so we had to sit away from it and convey our food to our mouths as best we could. Then we at first had no chairs, and had to perch ourselves on boxes, or any other promis- -cuous object that would allow of being sat on. Finally the sheikh produced triumphantly three chairs, one being three - legged, which the children propped up with stones and then fought over. The day after our arrival Hassen’s wedding festivities began, the duba having arrived with the bride’s jewels, still rather bad-tempered and inclined to haggle over every little detail. When the bride- groom’s presents—carried by three women of his family, in flat baskets poised on their heads— were offered to and received by the bride and her mother, he grumbled at the &ra/s-krals (ankle bracelets), saying they were not heavy enough and that the silk of the head handkerchiefs was flimsy. THE BARONESS (ON LEFT) IN THE SPAX WINTER COSTUME OF AN ARAB LADY OF ®RANK. From a Photograph, The marriage settlement, he said, sarcastically, had mentioned articles of good quality. He was, however, over-ruled by his wife, and. finally , subsided, for

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156 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE, the presents were really handsome of their kind. Next morning, early, Hassen arrived at our house, and in very majestic and stilted language begyved the honour of his Commandant’s presence at the giving of the sheep and camels, and the camel-loads of brushwood, which Brahim and sundry cousins and uncles had been gathering for some days. My husband, of course, acceded, and went off with him. Soon we heard the sound of the tom-tom and the rheita, and going out saw a long train of heavily-laden camels ambling conceitedly along behind the music, followed by eight rather meagre sheep and one miserable-lookmg young camel. I laughed to myself, and realized why Hassen ‘was so anxious for my husbands presence; he meant it to weigh in with the thin sheep ! And I was right. My husband came back intensely amused. “I would not have believed it of Hassen,” he said ; “he is a great deal more cunning than I thought such a straight Arab could be. When the old man saw the sheep he got into a terrible rage, and absolutely refused to receive the gifts. ‘They are a shame and an insult,’ he said. ‘I will have none of them. If properly-fed sheep are not forthcoming I will break the carta and keep my daughter.’ “«That is what he has been trying to do all along,’ whispered Hassen. He listened respect- fully to all the old man had to say, and allowed his own father to dispute with him over it. Then, when the irate old boy raised his stick and began violently driving away the offending sheep, he stepped forward and, in a very straight way, asked the daéa if he intended to insult his Commandant, and in him the whole French nation. ‘The Commandant has done us the great honour of coming to this marriage,’ he said; ‘he has had special leave to come; he has put himself to great fatigue and incon- venience to confer this honour on us. What is more, he has for the past two years confided his wife and children to our care. He has trusted us as no other vowmi (foreigner) has ever trusted * an Arab village. Shall we then repay him by sending him away, with no marriage and no fantasia, just’— contemptuously —‘ because of a few thin sheep? Surely the Sidi would not thus stamp our race with ingratitude ?’” The daéa’s rage had somewhat fallen during this harangue. He wiped his brow with his red cotton handkerchief and looked hesitatingly at my husband, who seized the opportunity by the horns, and, stepping forward, held out his hand with a pleasant smile. ‘The old man wrung it hard, and turning to Hassen said, reluctantly, “For the Commandant’s sake I accept your miserable sheep. He has come, and he must be treated with all honour; there you are right. But J shall remember this ; you have treated me very shabbily.” Then, said my husband, he drove the sheep into his courtyard, snitfing furiously at the young, mangy camel, but slightly unbending before the twelve handsome loads of brushwood. “Lam not quite pleased with Hassen,” added my husband. ‘I did not come down here with the intention of being used to force the daba’s hand. ‘That is the worst of these Arabs ; they are so practical and far-seeing, with all their simplicity and hospitable generosity.” “All is fair in love and war,” quoted I. “Hassen has had enough trouble to win Turquia. He enlisted three years ago because the families refused to give her to him, and now he has nearly got her I think he is right to make use of everything and everyone, even your honoured self, to bring matters to a satisfactory end.” ‘That evening a big Aissoua séance was given at Hassen’s father’s house. It was, indeed, a strange and picturesque scene. Along the low white house rows of white burnoused Arabs squatted, the “ nonba” playing in their midst. On the right of the men were the women, closely veiled, with just one dark eye peering out of the silk or cotton draperies. The girls of marriageable age sat on a bench against the house, straight and motionless, whilst the elder women crowded together on the ground beneath an old olive tree retailing the latest gossip—the newest scandal being quite as dear to an Arab woman’s heart as to any Euro- pean’s. Around the mothers lay the little children asleep—brown cherubs gracefully reposing in innocent baby attitudes. Big petroleum lamps lit up the darker corners, but a full clear moon was already high in the deep blue heavens, her chastened light adding to the weirdness of the scene. The “nonba” played without ceasing — now slow and gentle, now loud and wild, accompanied by the solemn religious chants of the Aissoua sect of Islam. After about an hour of this an Arab rose up from the crowd, quickly followed by two others. Placing themselves shoulder to shoulder in the empty space in front of the “nonba” and audience, they began swaying their bodies to and fro, their heels kept well together and motionless. ‘They were soon joined by others, until a row of forty men were there before us, swaying in one uniform mass, their faces grow- ing more and more exalted in expression, their dark eyes steadily fixed on their chiefs, who had now risen, and of whom two, draped in dark crimsdh silk ‘jebbas,” were flying up and down in front. of them with: swift gliding

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THE steps, each of which yet ended in a jerk which made their silk draperies float out- wards, so that, in the mystic moonlight, they looked like two huge nocturnal birds. The third chief, an elderly man, was clothed in spotless white, and remained in the centre, giving the signal for any change of step or movement, whilst the fourth Jeader was a small boy, hardly five years old, also clad in crimson silk. He leapt about with an agility worthy of a—well, of a flea. The music grew louder aid quicker, and the Aissouas kept time with a regular leaping step forwards, a violent swaying, then a leap backwards, the eighty shapely bare brown legs moving in perfect unison, and the mass being kept together by the tight cross-over clasp of each other’s hands. After a few minutes of this a full-toned religious chant burst slowly from their lips in an agony of supplication. ‘Allah, Allah,” chanted one half; ‘“‘ Allah, ho,” answered the other half in triumphant tones ; “Allah, Allah, Allah, ho” (“God, God, hail”): Their eyes gleamed wildly, their breath came fast, their step grew vertiginous. Then, still clasping hands, they bent double, and a heartrending, blood- curdling groan ran down their ranks.” Up they stood again, and the dancing became frenzied. They unclasped hands, tore their chichias off their heads, letting loose their long, luxuriant “tuft of Mohammed,” and flung it backwards and forwards with such violence that I wonder their necks were not dislocated. The three crimson-draped chiefs were now moving so swiftly, and with such tremendous flying leaps, that I could hardly keep my eyes on them. Several of their followers, worked up to the proper pitch, broke from the ranks and rushed up to the chief in white, still frantically swinging their tufts backwards and forwards, but doing so in front of him with supplicating attitudes. Seizing one after the other, he trans- fixed their cheeks with long iron pins. Some tore their clothing off down to the waist and were transfixed through different parts of the body, and all bounded and leapt in a horrible frenzy ; even the little chief of five years had his baby cheeks pierced—and actually seemed to like it. Then a sword was brought, and each devotee in turn seized it; and, rushing to and fro, struck himself sharply with the edge. I and the girls covered our eyes and felt sick, leaving our menkind only to gaze on the performance. As the religious frenzy reached its height many imagined themselves beasts. One went about like a roaring lion seeking whom he might devour. He came very near us once or twice, “WHITE MARABOUT” AMONG THE ARABS, 157 THE PROCESSION From a) OF \YEILED WOMEN COLLECTING OFFERINGS FOR THE MARRIAGE FEAST. (Photograph. glaring and ‘growling, but finally he seized an Arab lad'and bore him off. The boy was soon rescued by a chief, who then followed the “lion” about, laying a detaining hand on him whenever he was, about to seize someone, and, though the nian, growled fearfully, he obeyed at once. Another thought he was a camel, and went about making the horrid gobbling noise that bull camels: sometimes give vent to. I recog- nised Brahim in him finally, and told him after- wards I thought a bull camel was not at all nice to imitate, whereupon he roared with laughter. One of Hassen’s uncles pranced about like a horse ; another-bundled round baa-ing like a sheep, which much amused the children. Suddenly a very shaggy old Arab, with wolfish, yellow teeth, who was sitting among the audience quite close’ to my eldest daughter, rose with a horrible growl, and, almost on all fours, dashed at her ferociously. With a terrified shriek of “ Mother !” she leapt towards me, and in the twinkling of an eye I had pushed her behind me and stood facing the horrible creature. And then, quite quietly, there occurred one of those incidents which show the watchful hospitality of the Arab towards his guest. Before the fanatic could touch me, and just as he growled, menacingly, “Dog of a Christian!” Hassen’s father, one of his brothers, and an uncle rose up as by magic between him ‘and me, and in another second Hassen himself was by me, and several other young men of the family, so that I andthe children were hedged

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158 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. round by protecting arms. The excited man was pounced on immediately by a chief, folded to his heart till his frenzy had subsided, and then sent off home in disgrace. “Have no fear in my house,” said Hassen’s father, with a kindly smile ; “we are watching over you.” And, indeed, they must have been, and closely, too, for the whole incident was over before my husband, who was at the other end, had observed anything amiss. The greater part of the Aissouas were lying exhausted by now, so a tremendous lot of freshly-cut cactus leaves were brought in, and those who still had enough energy left in them amused themselves by leaping on to the heap with their bare feet and legs and rolling on it, oblivious of the thorns. This I thought rather ex- traordinary, for I know of nothing more irritating and difficult to get rid of than these same little darts. The next day the proceedings were of a practical character only. Arabs of the same tribe or party hold together very strongly, and on every festive occa- sion —whether it be a birth, mar- riage, or death— help each other towards the ex- penses by giving what they can afford, even if it is only a halfpenny, on the principle that many small streams create the mighty river. During the marriage festivities one day is set apart for the procession of veiled women, accompanied by the “ nonba,” through the village, or that part of it which is ruled by their own sheikh. The procession stops before every house, the inhabitants being greeted with many salutations, whilst a male member of the party receives the offerings. The next afternoon we saw some snake-charm- ing by an Aissoua, who also told steries which seemed to produce great merriment. All my THE SNAKE-CHARMER, attention, however, was taken up by the hooded cobra balancing its handsome head toand fro, its large robin-like eyes glancing here and there with uncanny intelligence. The tom-tom was playing loudly during the whole performance, and the cobra went through a pantomime with its owner which I thought very extraordinary. It finally stretched itself out quite straight and lay as though dead, whereupon the Aissoua wept over it and whispered to it, bemoan- ing its loss. The cobra remained motion- less. Then the Aissoua trod on its tail to see if that would bring it to life. Not a quiver moved the long brown body. Next the owner covered it entirely with a white muslin, and for about half an hour talked of its virtues and _ his love for it. Then he uncovered it . to say a last good- bye, whereupon the cobra jumped up, inflating its hood, as lively as could be. This was the moment to make a collec- tion, and I man- aged by a heavy fee to gain the Aissoua’s permis- sion to take a snap-shot of him- self and the beast. I got three, and then he grew cross again and refused to allow me to take any more. This man also played about with a horned viper and ate a few scorpions, which made me feel quite ill. I afterwards saw him at_Sfax, where he had six hooded cobras of various sizes. In the evening of this same day there was a singing and dancing entertainment. The sing- ing was not very good. The performers stood together and bellowed into each other’s ears by turn, each holding a hand behind the suffering organ. I should have held it in front, to deaden the sound ! The next day was a very busy one. My husband’s leave was up the day after, so Hassen had decided to curtail the marriage festivities so (Photograph. auc

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THE “WHITE MARABOUT” AMONG THE ARABS. 159 that his “Commandant” might be present to the very end. In the early part of the afternoon a big repast was given at the bride’s house to all her women relations and friends. A big tent was put up in the courtyard, under which, dressed out in their finest “melliafas” and “sourias,” they took shelter from the burning August sun. The dada, looking very glum (no doubt the thought of those lean sheep still oppressed him), was sitting near the courtyard entry, pencil and paper in hand. As each veiled woman came in she slipped a few pence into his hand, and he immediately wrote down her name and the sum given, so that when a feast was given in her house he might know the amount due to her. In this way every invited house- hold shares, accord- ing to its means, in the expense of the entertainment its members enjoy, thus taking a heavy load off the giver’s shoul- ders. The latter, however, is under no obligation to anyone, for, as they do unto him, so has he done, or will do, unto them. The laughing and chattering were deafening, and most probably the scandal retailed was some- thing terrible. The bride was hidden away in one of the. long, narrow rooms, slowly preparing for closed compartment slung upon a camel, it which she journeys to meet her husband—by negress for “good luck”; all her weddin, clothes are also previously worn by the sam negress, who pays a certain number of visits it them, and thus draws away ill-luck before the: are donned by the bride. ‘The camel was le out, and the bride and her attendant huddle into the box. Round it crowded the femal guests, closely veiled; behind came the met ready for the “fantasia,” some on horseback some on foot. Then began the long six-mil march out into the country and round the out skirts of the village to the bridegroom’s house During the whole of the wedding-day unti night the bridegroom hides, in this tribe because he i: yattt ses “ashamed.” I: LL other tribes he ofter has festivities anc feasting, chiefly fo men, at his owt house. Hassen, how ever, hid and wa ashamed. At every fou roads or open spact the camel stopped and around it th powder spoke lou and quick. Neck t neck, stirrup t stirrup, the rider came past the wai! ing bride at fu gallop, firing thei heavily-loaded gun to right and left. It was quite dar ane oO. 4 8 Rey ae EPA TS Rs Hine ES, = when we arrived ; THE BRIDE IN HER WEDDING FINFRY, IN THE BACKGROUND IS THE Hassen’s house an the “Jafha,” or tri- From a\ BRIDEGROOM. (Photograph. escorted the bric umphal wedding- to her room, fir march to her husband’s home. She looked going through the ceremony of killing a fo very hot and tired after undergoing the lengthy “hargoose” painting, or false tattooing ; and her enormous head-dress seemed to weigh her down. She looked at me with a faint smile, and when I asked her if she was happy now that all was ended and she was sure of being Hassen’s wife she only sighed, and, pressing her forehead, said marriage was very trying, and she should be glad when it was over. When the bride’s dressing was finished her maids, after decking themselves out in their best, went out to join the merry throng in the tent, now all very busy eating. In some parts of Africa, notably in Tunisia, the bride is accompanied in the “ basour”—the and letting its blood run over the camel’s nei to drive away evil spirits. Then began tl ceremony of giving money for the brid personal use. At nine o’clock we heard the distant sow of the tom-tom preceding the bridegroo so forth we sallied to witness this interesti ceremony, peculiar to certain Tunisian trib The bridegroom leaves the friend’s house whi he has been hiding his shame, dressed in most gorgeous “ jebba,” and wearing the turk for the first time. Bachelors only wear the pl red fez, or chichia, with the big black silk tas: To right and left of him stand four friends, chosen to match his own height, and a

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160 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. swiftly opened the door, and regularly ran him in, slamming the door behind him. The “Z’harits” of the women rang shrill and long, and the cere- monies were over. For seven days after the wedding the bride and bridegroom are supposed not to leave their room. The bride may see none of her own family, and only the women-folk of her husband’s, who wait on her. She remains in all her wedding finery and paint, and does absolutely nothing. The bridegroom generally slips out at night after three days and sees a few friends privately, ” but he persistently hides from his wife’s family, and should he by accident meet his father-in-law before the seven days are over, he turns his back and draws his burnous, or haik, over his face. This is their view of a honeymoon, and they grow as weary of it as any European couple do of their enforced Continental tour. THE BRIDE MOUNTING HEK CAMEL, TO PROCRED TO HRR NEW HOME. Now that Hassen and Turquia were Brome Photagraph: married the ratson d’tre of our little trip was at an end, and, with many dressed in their very best. Each friend bears a thanks to our kindly hosts, we boarded our lighted taper in his hand. With slow, solemn fishing-boat and sailed back to Sfax. steps and set, serious faces, they wend their way to the house where the bride waits. ‘The proces- sion stops before every ‘“ Marabout,” or saint’s mosque, and the bride- groom, reverently bending his head, silently asks for Allah’s bless- ing and protection through his new life. The procession also stops before every well-to-do house, where money is given to a special collector for the pay- ment of the musicians who have played during the marriage fes- tivities. At last, after an hour’s majestic march, the procession arrived in the courtyard before the bride’s room. She was there alone, waiting, all her women friends being grouped outside the door. For the last time the collector called in the money offerings, and I noticed Hassen’s face turn very pale in the light of his “best men’s” tapers. His eyes glanced round quickly and nervously ; then, with a_ still, set face, he advanced towards her door, supported by the eight friends, who, as they = " WPopine reocession on neared it, took him by the arm, From a Photograph eo i he Fe

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The Vengeance of Mrs. Kellert. By H. M. VerRNon. The story of a terrible man-hunt. cold blood and made good their escape. Two ruffians killed the sheriff of Loring County, Montana, in Thereupon his bereaved wife vowed vengeance, and, guided only by her woman's intuition, set out to track the murderers down. Her long quest ended only when the two men had paid for their crime with their lives. MN the month of September, 1901, a the “through express” on the Denver and Rio Grande Railway, running between Denver and the mid-West, was held up by train robbers six miles north of Loring Junction. The robbers proceeded in the usual business-like manner. After “weeding” the mail coach, they rifled the express messenger’s safe, and got clean away with forty thousand dollars in cash, and_as much again in negotiable securities. The usual rewards were offered for the appre- hension of the men (there were but two), but without result, and in less than three months the affair was forgotten, as such happenings usually are. Working in the orthodox fashion, with handkerchiefs tied over the lower part of their faces, the men left no clue as to their identity. Both were “ tall men wearing dark clothes and slouch hats,” accord- ing to the description sent out by the police. This left little to work on, however, and the case was put aside pending future develop- ments. All the Western mining ‘towns boast a dance hall or two, where, between the dances, “artistes” appear in songs and _ sketches. Into one of these, the Golconda, in the little town of Deep Hill, Montana, a_ stranger leisurely sauntered one Sunday night, some twelve weeks after the robbery on the Rio Grande. at a table, he asked for drink. He was served, and then, calling some of the Aabitués of the place around him, he proceeded to make a good fellow of himself in recognised Western fashion. All the cham- pagne in the place was soon drunk at the new-comer’s expense, and the proprietor was asked to go out and find more. Not knowing whether or no his customer had any more money, he asked for the amount necessary to purchase another case of wine. The stranger, already half intoxicated, unbuttoned his waistcoat and Vol. xx.— 21. “CURLY JIM," THE NOTORIOUS ROBBER I 4 WHO ASSISTRD TO HOLD UP THE Seating himself venvar axp mio Geanpe ExrREss. From a Photograph. took from around his body a belt filled to the last stitch with bank-notes of a large denomina- tion. Taking therefrom a hundred-dollar bill, he said, ‘‘Get some more wine with that, and when it’s gone, come back again. There's plenty more.” Now there was nothing out of the ordinary in this, for miners after a lengthy spell in the mines often come into town for a “ blow-out,” spend- ing large sums of money. But just as the stranger was replacing his belt, another man came toward him from one of the tables, and stooping over him said, in an angry voice: “You fool! Do you want to get nabbed? Put that away and get out.” The man with the belt had taken just enough drink to make him quarrelsome. Getting up from the table, he roundly abused his adviser. Words led to blows; then suddenly there was a shot, and the man with the money fell, badly wounded. The local doctor could do nothing for him, and he was accordingly sent to Lode City, to the hospital there. Here a discovery was made. In his belt, which contained over eight thousand dollars, was found part of an envelope marked “ First National Bank, Butte, Montana. —C.” As the wounded man abso- lutely refused to reveal his identity or to give any account of himself the First National Bank was com- municated with, in the hope that they might know something of the invalid. And they did. For the en- velope, marked with that “C” in red ink, had been a wrapper around a ten-thousand-dollar packet of bills among those stolen three months before, and the initial was that of the clerk who had counted the money before sending it to their Denver branch. Detectives were now called in, and the man was recognised at once as “Curly Jim,” one of the most daring and notorious robbers in the West—an associate of “Red” Kelly and Tom East, both daring desperadoes, “Curly” was promptly removed to~the county jail and his

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162 THE WIDE WORLI) MAGAZINE. “TAKING THEREFROM A HUNDRED-DOLLAR BILL, HE SAID, ‘GET SOME MORE WINE WITH THAT. ” partner in the robbery was also arrested, but not until he had shot and killed an officer named Michael Nolan. On account of “Curly’s” wound the men could not be brought to trial immediately, and so lay in jail for some weeks. The sheriff of Loring County at this time was Mr. “ Bob” Kellert, a very popular man with a big heart, and yet a reputation for nerves of steel—a man who, literally, knew no fear. Kellert did what he could to make the wounded prisoner com- fortable in jail, and was assisted in this by his wife, who cooked various dainties for the sufferer and also sent flowers in to him. “Curly,” hardened ruffian as he was, seemed tM > {o appreciate these : kindnesses and often + * sent his thanks to the sheriff's wife. As his wound was nearly healed “Curly” was allowed to take the air in the jail yard, whence he could look up to the cell window of his comrade East. No attention was paid to this, nor to their conversing with each other; and this was where Sheriff Kellert made a grave mistake, as after events proved. Three days before the time set for “Curly” and East’s trial the first-named asked to see a doctor, saying that his wound was giving him pain. There was no phy- sician attached to the jail, the local prac- titioner visiting there once a day. Kind- hearted Sheriff Kel- lert went to “ Curly’s” cell to see if he could do anything for him. “Curly ” begged that the doctor might be sent for, and the sheriff, without further ado, sent his own assistant on the errand. “Curly” now simulated faint- ness, and the sheriff, unlocking the cell- door, went in to give him a drink of water. Inke a flash the man — who was only feign- ing pain — was upon the sheriff. With a carpenter’s hammer, which East had thrown down to him while he was in the jail yard (and which had been stolen froma mechanic’s kit) “Curly” struck Kellert three violent blows on the temple, killing him instantly. Taking the keys out of the door the ruffian next ran up the iron stairway to East’s cell and let the latter out. Returning below, the two men took from the body of the dead sheriff all the money they could find, together with his watch and revolver. They then walked deliberately out of the street- door to the livery stables ;of William Ferguson,

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THE VENGEANCE OF MRS. KELLERT. 163 whom they gagged and tied toa post. Com- mandeering two fast horses, they mounted and set their faces towards the prairie. When the sheriff’s assistant returned to the county jail and saw what had happened he im- mediately gave the alarm, and in less than an hour twenty men, armed to the teeth and mounted on fleet cow-ponies, were in pursuit. Meanwhile, the body of Sheriff Kellert was removed to his home. Mrs. Kellert bore her sorrow silently, for in the Far West of America shooting affrays are of common occurrence, and, although the wife of the murdered man felt her loss deeply, she gave little outward sign thereof ; sympathizing neighbours, however, noticed that the bereaved woman’s eyes had a peculiar look in them, and that the lines of her mouth hardened into a look of determination. Loring County and the whole State were soon to learn what that determination was. Meanwhile the posse in pursuit of the escaped prisoners had little luck, for the hour’s start the tuffians had obtained meant much to them. They had ridden at right angles across the prairie, then doubled back to Mohave, a small railway junction, where, leaving their horses, they “jumped ” a freight train, and got safely to Butte City. Although the telegraph wires were hot with messages of warning, at the latter town all trace of the fugitives was for the time being lost. It afterwards developed that the men had parted company here, for “Curly” had not forgiven East for wounding him at the Golconda dance hall, and had assisted him to escape only for the purpose of killing him subsequently. Time was precious just then, however, and so he post- poned his revenge to some more auspicious occasion. While the police and Vigilantes of Montana, Colorado, Texas, and other Western States were searching for “ Curly” and East, Sheriff Kellert had been buried, and the bereaved Mrs. Kellert, saying she was returning to her parents in another State, left Deep Hill. Her parents, however, did not come into her calculations just then, for she quitted the little town where she had lived happily with her husband for three years with but one object in view—vengeance. After sending her two children, Bobbie and Grace, to their grandparents, she started on a man-hunt, which ended only when “Curly Jim” and Tom East had both paid for their crime with their lives. Guided solely by her woman’s intuition, she took the directly opposite course to that being pursued by the police, for, instead of searching for the two robbers in the small mining towns and country surrounding, she made straight for Denver, Colorado, one of the largest cities in the West. Here she obtained a position as waitress in a restaurant, in Second Street, in a neighbourhood exclusively given over to gambling houses frequented by the lower classes. Here she made friends with the Aaditués of the place, learning which of them were “ crooks” and likely to know something of the men she was in search of. For three weeks she remained at the restaurant, discovering nothing, when one morning, while serving two customers, she overheard them speaking about “Curly Jim,” saying “he would never be caught, as he had undoubtedly crossed the border into New Mexico.” Mrs. Kellert recognised these men as regular customers of the place, but she knew nothing of their business beyond the fact that they were associates of very “shady” persons. Instead of going at once, woman-like, to New Mexico on this slight clue, she made every effort to serve these particular men most carefully, giving them great attention. Finally, one day, having often passed a pleasant remark or two with them, she leant across the table and, addressing one of the pair, said, ‘‘ There were two coppers (detectives) in here last night, and I heard them say they were leaving to-day for New Mexico, as they had a good clue as to the whereabouts of two much-wanted men.” The man seemed unaffected, and answered, quietly, “That so? Did they mention any names?” “Yes,” answered the waitress; “ ‘Curly’ somebody, and the other name sounded like East.” : The man went on eating, apparently quite unconcerned. When he had finished, however, he called the waitress to him and gave her a five-dollar bill, saying, “ You're all right.” Then, in company with the other man, he ieft the place. Mrs. Kellert promptly tore off her apron, and, crossing the street, followed the two. At the second turning the men separated, one going into Leary’s gambling saloon, the other—the man she had spoken to —walking on. Mrs. Kellert followed at a dis- creet distance. The man turned into Pike Street, stopped for a moment to light a cigar, then walked into the post-office building, in which are the offices of the Western Union Telegraph Company. Here the man wrote and sent off a telegram. It was absolutely essential that Mrs. Kellert should see that wire—but how? Suddenly an inspiration flashed across her mind. Stepping into an adjacent doorway, she waited until the sender had left the building. Then she walked deliberately up to the clerk and said: “ My husband says you overcharged him for his telegram, and I shall report you to the officials.”

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164 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “What telegram, madam?” inquired the astonished clerk. “You know well enough; the last one you received. My husband is waiting outside ; he was not quite sure.” “You are mistaken—madam the charge was correct ; the rate is twenty-five cents a word to New Mexico. You can see for yourself.” With that the unwary clerk placed the telegram before the woman, who could hardly restrain her excitement as she hurriedly scanned the pencilled lines. It read: “James Pullen, Adobe Saloon, Mexico City, New Mexico. Buttons on the way ; blow.—Ganty.” Mrs. Kellert gave the clerk half a dollar, said she was sorry, and hurried back to the restaurant where she had been employed. ‘‘ Buttons on the way” clearly meant “Police on the way,” and “blow” means, in thieves’ parlance, “get away.” Mrs. Kellert ran up to the room she occu- pied, changed her clothing, and, taking a small handbag, hurried to the Union depét. There was no train to Mexico City until eight- thirty that evening, and she had there- fore several hours to wait. Return- ing to the telegraph office, she sent another message to “ James Pullen,” MRS. KELLEKT, WHOSE RFLENT- LESS PURSUIT OF HER HUSRAND'S, MURDERER IS HERE TOLD. again near the Adobe, when a man_ passed her whom she recognised. It was Burt Edwards, a gambler and associate of “Curly’s.” This man had undergone a term of imprisonment in Montana, and Mrs. Kellert remembered her husband taking him to the penitentiary from the county jail. Edwards did not know her, how- ever, and walking up to him she said, “Can I speak to you a moment?” Edwards stopped, gave her a searching look, but could not penetrate her veil. ‘ How do you know my name,” he said, “and what do you want?” Mrs. Kellert answered, “I’m looking for Tom East. I have some important news for him.” “Tom East?” echoed Edwards, suspiciously. ‘ News from whom ?” “Ganty,” replied the ex-sheriffs wife, unhesitatingly. ‘News for him and ‘Curly.’” “Oh,” replied Edwards, evidently satisfied ; “I'll tell them.” “Please say I will be at the corner in half an hour,” added the woman, and the gambler passed on with a nod. Mrs. Kellert walked slowly away until ;dwards had crossed the street and entered the saloon; then, run- ning as fast as she could, she hurried almost breathlessly into the police- which read :— From a Photograph. station, next to the railway depét, “First telegram mistake; no and asked for the officer in charge. danger from here,” signing this ‘Ganty.” | This man could speak very little English, but At eight-thirty the ex-sheriffs wife caught her train, and arrived in Mexico City just as the street lamps were being extinguished next morning. Leaving her bag at the station cloak- room, she inquired the way to the Adobe Saloon. The person who directed her looked rather curiously at Mrs. Kellert, and when she arrived in front of the place she understood why. It was in the “ old town,” or disreputable part of the city, and was the rendezvous for the scum of the place. She dared not enter, for she knew that “Curly Jim”—whom she was sure also answered to the name of James Pullen— would recognise her atonce. Then she thought of notifying the police, but she had determined to avenge her husband herself, and, gripping the revolver under her blouse, she crossed the street, determined to wait until “Curly” made his appearance. From seven o’clock until four the next morning she kept her vigil, but there was no sign of the man she was looking for. Tired out, she went to the Station Hotel, took a bed- room, and asked to be called at noon, knowing that “Curly” would hardly be likely to be astir much before that time. At one o’clock she was an interpreter was soon found, and Mrs. Kellert explained that “Curly Jim” and Tom East were in the city, and could be found at the Adobe Saloon. As there was a reward of two thousand dollars out for “Curly” and five hundred for East the police soon bestirred themselves, and, by taking circuitous routes, soon surrounded the little drinking-place. Meanwhile Mrs. Kellert hurried back, and had been at the appointed. corner only a minute or two when the man Edwards came towards her. Looking cautiously about and seeing nothing to arouse his suspicions, he took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his sleeve with it. Thereupon the saloon doors opened and Tom East came down the street. So soon as Mrs. Kellert recognised him she gave the prearranged signal, stepping forward two paces. A scene then ensued which will probably never be forgotten by the inhabitants of that particular locality. As if by magic policemen emerged from all sorts of unexpected places— from under the boarded side-walk, from behind hall doors, from first-floor windows, and even out of a slowly,passing wagon. East realized

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THE VENGEANCE OF MRS. KELLERT. 165 the situation instantly, and drawing his pistols fired at the nearest officers, running meanwhile back to the saloon. The swinging doors closed with a bang and the heavy inside door was slammed and barred. Several shots had been fired after the flying East, and the “crooks,” “cattle-rustlers,” and “bad men” congregated in the Adobe, scenting trouble, rallied to their fellow-craftsman’s rescue. The windows of the upper storey speedily bristled with rifle and revolver barrels, and a steady fire was directed on the police in the street. This was returned by a fusillade of revolver shots from the Mexican Officers, who, being reinforced by the reserves from the barracks, now attempted to force an entrance into the besieged place. The windows on each side of the door were smashed and several men forced their way through, only to drop back, shot by the desperadoes _ inside. The place was sur- rounded, but the police were greatly hampered by being shot at from various adjacent windows by sympathizers with the Adobe patrons, for this was a dangerous locality, teeming with criminals, and the officers of the law were most un- popular with its denizens. The fire depart- ment having been summoned, a power- ful hose was turned into the saloon to force the inmates from the wooden- shuttered windows. This was rather a mistake, as the volume of water gave the besieged men a chance to get out almost unperceived, or, at least, to make a rush for it. This was just what happened, for suddenly the doors flew open and several figures dashed wildly out. The police dared not fire at such close quarters for fear of hitting their own men, and, leaving the fugitives to be looked after by their com- rades, the officers nearest the door rushed in. Three men had escaped through the open door. One fell with a pistol-ball through his “ CURLY’ JIM HAD MET HIS NEMKSIS IN THE PERSON OF THR MURDERED SHERIFF'S WIFE |” head within twenty yards of the Adobe; a second was caught and handcuffed ; while the third man, running close to the wall of the houses opposite, reached the first turning safely, and was about to run up the street when a woman standing on the edge of the pavement raised her arm and shot him through the heart. It was Mrs. Kellert, and “ Curly Jim” had met his Nemesis in the person of the murdered sheriff’s wife ! A When the policemen finally fought their way into the wrecked saloon the four men whom they found there alive surrendered. Six others had been killed or seriously wounded, and among those who had died fighting was Tom East. One would natur- ally suppose that the officials of Mexico City, although in- debted indirectly to Mrs. Kellert for the loss of nine officers’ lives, would have taken into considera- tion that it was she who led them to the hiding-place of the two train robbers. Curiously enough, however, Mrs. Kel- lert was arrested and charged with man- slaughter. Now, indeed, there was a hubbub of ex- citement. The citizens of her native State arose in indig- nation, and petitions for her release were signed by thousands of people, but all to no avail, and the American woman who had avenged her husband’s murder had to stand trial for the killing of “Curly” Pullen. The judge who presided at the preliminary hearing said the case was a most unusual one, but Mrs. Kellert must be held for trial. For some reason unknown, however, the lady was discharged from custody some days later, and the officials of the Rio Grande Railway Company paid over to her the reward of two thousand five hundred dollars offered for the arrest of the two men. Mrs. Kellert is nowliving in Ottawa, Canada, where her father and brother are inybusiness.

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THE NAMELESS ISLAND. By GrorGE WarRBuURTON LEwIs. One of the most weirdly fascinating narratives we have ever published—a story which “ Wide World" readers will peruse with a shudder of but the author vouches absolutely for its authenticity. He states horror. It reads like the most imaginative fiction, : “I take oath that the story is literally true, and every surviving character can be produced in corroboration of the statement.” The originals of the letters referred to in the footnotes are in our possession. SE were drifting with the Mindoro tide under a merciless tropic sun, none of us knew whither. We of the Zamboanga exploring expedi- tion* had come to regret our venture, for we were face to face with death in its most ‘ideous form. Four in all, we sprawled upon our rude raft of lashed bamboo poles and tossed idly with the motion of the swell. The outlook was unspeakably dismal. Since the loss, three days before, of our small boat and impedimenta off Pangutaran, in the Jolo Archipelago, we had perforce subsisted on that island much after the fashion of Robinson Crusoe. As there was no sign of human habitation on the island, we finally decided to build a raft, by means of which we had hoped to reach Jolo, to the south-east. Of our supplies next to nothing had been saved, and no food of any kind now remained. I had feared the outcome and had advised against a project so rash as putting to sea unprovided with compass or other necessaries, but my less prudent companions had voted me down, and now the threatened disaster had come to pass, with every indication that worse was yet to follow. ition left Zamboanga, Philippine Island ing to search for minerals in an almost w section of the Philippine Archipelago.— THe AUTHOR. We had come through the tail of a typhoon on the day of embarkation with our bare lives and found ourselves, when the storm had passed, tossing in a choppy, turquoise sea, forgotten of the world—utterly lost in a waste of waters. Now, after thirty-six hours without food or water, our condition had become desperate. Overhead, like a great ball of fire, the equatorial sun hung pendent from a cloudless sky, blister- ing hot in its intensity. Gently the raft rose and fell with the long, even swells, only disturb- ing the fitful slumber of one of our luckless party when by chance two of the clumsily-lashed poles acted as pincers upon his flesh. All day long we had lain flat upon our stomachs, with hands tucked under us, to prevent the fierce sun-rays from beating upon and blistering our naked skin. The position had put an ache in my back which bade fair to equal a more acute one in my stomach. I dragged myself to a sitting posture, just in time to find my friend Talmers* scooping up a handful of the deadly sea-water. “Stop, Talmers ! *I cried, thickly ; “ that’s the first step towards insanity.” * This name is fictitious, but the real name and present address of the person described have been furnished to us in confidence. Mr. “Talmers” writes; ‘* As one who has ‘lived’ the story, I hereby make affidavit that it is a true and unvarnished narration of facts.” “Cstop, TALMERS!' 1 CRIFD, THICKLY jf THAT'S THE FIRST STEP TowARDS INGANITY,’”

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THE He hesitated, gave me a look of dull compre- hension over his shoulder, then dropped what remained of the dripping green poison back into the sea. “What’s the use, old man?” he wheezed, searching the horizon wearily from under his shading hand ; “there’s nothing in sight. The sooner it’s all over the better.” Good old Peters, a homely, heroic, never- despairing soul who had served with me in two wars, was the next to awake, ushered back to torture by a stentorian yawn whose very volume seemed the agent of power in bringing his great body to an upright position. For a moment, like some immense child, he sat quietly twisting his big fists in his eye-sockets. Then he, too, took observations. “Nice quiet life, this, and romantic in the extreme,” he observed. ‘Theres many a stay- at-home capitalist who'd give his interest in the Beef Trust for this bit of experience—minus the reality of it.” Talmers glanced towards the speaker list- lessly. ‘‘ Have a drink?” he invited, in a half sarcastic tone of liberality. “Thanks,” said Peters, dryly ; “I’m somewhat . of a crank on temperance.” Talmers smiled, in spite of a natural facility for seeing things in their true light, and cast a look full of envy at the optimistic ex-soldier. Peters caught the look. ‘Shake it off,” he admonished ; “ you’re headed straight for the ‘blues.’ If you started to make your will now we'd doubtless sight land before you could finish it, and the disappointment would be hard on your heirs. A fellow should at least respect the feelings of his fellow-men.” Talmers made no reply. The blue-shirted philosopher placidly picked up the only paddle that remained to us and began to assist the tide with slow, regular strokes. There was some- thing so definite and purposeful in the steady sweep of his long, powerful arms that Talmers and I, watching him in abstracted silence, presently became infected with his show of energy and followed his example, using our hands for want of better implements. But in comparison with one particular member of our party, Jinks by name, even Talmers and I saw stern things through rosy lenses ; and this same explorer it was who now sat up drowsily with staring, incredulous eyes to exclaim in tones of deep-felt disappointment, “ What! haven’t we been picked up yet?” Alive once more to the hopelessness of our plight, all four of us toiled in silence for a long time. From the speed-rate at which we passed frequent patches of seaweed, I estimated that we were making very creditable headway. This NAMELESS ISLAND. 167 would have been a source of much encourage- ment had I had any assurance that we were not, with each precious effort, taking ourselves farther out to sea and away from whatever remote chance of rescue might lie behind. From costly experience 1 had learned that it is not always wise to trust matters of life and death to whimsical Fortune, and it was out of some remnant of a scepticism so based that my pre- sent anxiety grew. Being the chosen manager of the party, it that might mean anything under such circumstances, 1 was on the point of putting my views before my companions when, chancing to glance at Peters, I forgot what I meant to say in wonder at seeing that blue-shirted Hercules paddling with redoubled energy, his gigantic body thrust forward and his eyes fixed intently upon something beyond. I followed his gaze and thrilled with mad, lelirious joy. What I saw was but a grey blur lifting itself above the line of the horizon. At first it might have been mistaken for a sail, but on a second examination it assumed a stationary aspect, and an irregularity of outline which identified it unmistakably—land !_ I turned, and found the party to a man with their eyes glued to the welcome speck in the distance. “The thing’s happening in perfect order,” said Peters, composedly; “in the ‘Boys’ Delight’ series the castaways always sight land at the end of the first chapter.” “Let's hope it’s not inhabited by the inevit- able cannibals,” said Talmers. “It'd be our luck, though,” commented Jinks, with characteristic pessimism. Figuratively, though truthfully, Jinks saw the world through a smoked glass that was all but pitch black. A stranger to Talmers, Peters, and myself, we had accepted him into our party at Manila some three weeks before on indifferent recommenda- tions, and for the insufficient reason that, in procuring supplies and preparing various packs for the expedition, we had, through a miscal- culation, got ready over a fourth too much luggage for three men, all of whom would surely march, doubtless fight, and, perhaps, even run. Then Jinks descended among us one day in the hour of our need, expressed a wish to share in our enterprise, and was duly enrolled as an equal shareholder in whatever we might over- take, or, on the other hand, might overtake us. Hostile Filipinos specifically, we hoped, might not intrude themselves in either case. Talmers (leastwise, the person whom the reader may know by that name) was a graduate of a college whose monosyllabic name is synony- mous in America with finished learning. Always, as now, he had been an adventurous spirit. Covetous of the world’s goods he had never

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168 been, beyond that portion which ensured his personal comfort. As I have said before, Peters and I had served, shoulder to shoulder, in two wars. He was not a brilliant-minded man, at any rate not in the world’s accepted curriculum of wisdom, but he possessed hard common sense and a simple, analytic method of reasoning out complexities. For these qualities alone 1 should have loved him, but his steadfast courage and devotion to duty had endeared him to me as only the crises of privation and peril in active warfare can endear one comrade to another. And here ends the brief descrip- tion of my companions, which, however, has not been so brief but that it has carried me away from my island discovery in the Mindoro Sea. Would it could have borne me away from that inferno of mystery in time to spare me the disagreeable yet obvious duty of setting down this strange story ! We paddled our hardest towards that welcome speck ahead, but the ruddy sun-disc had drepped low in the west by the time our party effected a landing on the island. No sooner did we feel the grateful ‘earth beneath our feet than we ran insanely along the beach in a body, offering up from our seared throats hoarse, inarticulate cries, intended as expressions of thanksgiving. When the first transports of joy had passed, however, and left us in a more rational state of mind, we were enabled to see enough of our surroundings to convince us, especially the less hopeful ones, that there really had been little cause for so much elation. The island rose gradually from the water like the oval back of some deep-sea monster, and for some hundred yards or more inland was greenly carpeted with a thick, close-lying mat of grass. Beyond this thick-set bamboos, with an accompaniment of “ devil’s shoestrings,” formed a jungle whose density seemed absolutely to defy penetration. Nowhere was there to be seen any kind of habitation, nor yet a trail or footprint telling of the existence on the island of man or beast. Things did not look hopeful, but hunger and thirst drove us at once to exploration. Thrice we attempted to force our way into the jungle, and thrice we were repelled by a compact net- work of thorn-vines. We had quite despaired THE AUTHOR, MR. GEORGR WARKURTON LEWIS, WHO STATES, ON OATH, THAT THIS. EXTRAORDINARY STORY IS ABSOLUTELY TRUER. , From a Photo. by A, D. Grigs. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. of finding water, or even the sustaining juice of a green orange, when, just at sunset, some half- mile from the point at which we had debarked, we had the extreme good fortune to run across a monkey trail, and with infinite difficulty made our way along this narrow passage. The course led us straight into the coppice. Just as we were about to fall from sheer exhaustion, Provi- dence, as we staggered blindly on, placed before our bloodshot eyes in that tropical wilderness an emerald pocl of water. Its colour was similar to that of the sea, and I almost feared to drink lest I should find it salt. However, we fell upon our faces and greedily submerged our mouths. Heaven be praised !—it was fresh! Long and deeply we drank from the placid little pocl. Finally, when we had filled ourselves to repletion, we rose and began a search for food. Once more we were lucky. On the lip of the pool, almost hidden in the warm mud, the keen-eyed Peters unearthed seventeen fresh turtle’s eggs. The rest of us joined the fortunate prospector uninvited, and together we devoured the delicious find with the avidity of famished wolves. We all slept side by side near the beach that night, not desir- ing the company in the jungle of possible reptiles and monkeys. I distinctly remember the order in which we lay on the thick, mat-like grass. Parallel with the edge of the sea and farthest inshore was Talmers ; then came Jinks, then Peters, and finally, next the sloping margin that joined the water, myself. Early in the evening moon and stars were shut out by a scudding cloud-rack, but we slept soundly, the sleep of utter exhaustion. Some time during the night—there was no means by which to determine the hour—I chanced to extend a hand towards the sea. I withdrew the member hastily, with a violent shudder, for in the pitchy darkness it had come in contact with something cold, slimy, and yield- ing to the touch. The circumstance, though startling, alarmed me but little ; doubtless some prowling creature of the sea had paid us a visit out of mere curiosity. For a space I lay motionless in conjecture, but presently I conceived a desire to know what my nocturnal visitor was like. The wish quickly developed into a longing for matches, of which there were none, and naturally, therefore, I craved illumination the

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THE NAMELESS ISLAND. 169 more. Very soon I reluctantly put forth my hand again, and was relieved to find that my visitor had noiselessly taken its leave. Turning over, without a thought of danger, I was presently half-way to dreamland again. Suddenly I was brought to a sitting posture by a sharp exclamation from Talmers. He had sprung to his feet, and in the murky darkness I heard him speak in a voice which was by no means his normal one. “In Heaven’s name, what was that?” he cried. His low, awe- struck tone some- how sent a quick chill up my spine and effectually aroused me. None but I had been dis- turbed by his outcry. I bade him describe the intruder. “Cold and clammy and seemingly about the size of a man,” he said, and as he spoke I caught the sound of his feet on the grass as he moved round in search of the thing that had awakened him. After a moment he spoke again. ‘ Gone,” he announced, and his voice expressed no modicum of regret. Presently he came and lay down beside me, thus leaving the unconscious Jinks outside man on the leeward side. But the strange caller ‘CIN HEAVEN'S NAME, WHAT WAS THAT?’ HE CRIED.” “Talmers,” I called, quietly, “ what has happened ?” : “Nothing,” he answered, quickly, as if re- assured by the sound of my voice ; “only I just discovered a might: uliat bed-fellow.” oe ok ae 2a! aA came no more that night, and finally Talmers and I fell asleep—to dream, he of many-legged carnivorous dragons, as he told me next day, and I of cold, viscous sea-serpents whose wide jaws ever yawned to devour me.

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170 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Early dawn found us with our ablutions over, our waistbands hitched one or more holes closer about our lank middles, and our minds strongly in sympathy with the woeful condition of our stomachs. In a body we set off toward the coppice, hunting for something to eat. We had proceeded perhaps a score of yards when, at a spot where some enrichment of the soil had caused a rank growth of the thick grass, the ample foot of Peters stirred an object from its hiding-place under the green mat. Very calmly the discoverer bent over his find, and in a moment had lifted from beneath the knitted growth—a grinning human skull ! ‘This ghastly find so early in the morning, and so httle calculated to inspire a hopeful outlook, put all of us save Peters into a gloomy state of mind. Our gruesome work of discovery, how- ever, had only begun. Before we went to seek our breakfast we had, unwillingly enough, laid bare four complete human skeletons, none of which gave the slightest clue as to the source from which death had befallen or the manner. That we had passed the night only a few paces distant from an open tomb contain- ing the skeletons of four men whose death savoured of mystery—that we had done this gave me a sort of uncanny discomfort. And then there were four skeletons—fowr—the precise number that composed our own party. Was this singular fact in itself an omen? ‘The idea was absurd, but only when hunger had led us well into the jungle did I forget the subject. In our eager search for food we found almost every kind of vegetation common to a tropical wood, but no fruit or wild vegetables whose edibility we dared risk rewarded our quest: After what seemed an age of desperate battling to force a passage, we suddenly broke through the great natural barrier and found ourselves little more than a stone’s throw from the edge of the island on the opposite side to that at which we had landed. All about us crowded small, bare, low-lying hills, some of which rose in more tugged contour to a considerable height. On the highest peak among these latter an object suddenly arrested my scrutiny and changed it to an incredulous stare. Something that looked strikingly like a large square of sail-cloth was waving gently in the wind! I pointed mutely, and, though tottering from weakness, we all broke into a wild race toward the doleful signal. Such violent exertion proved ill-advised. Of the party Peters and myself alone reached the summit where the rude emblem was fixed ; Talmers and Jinks lay swooning by the way. It was cruel for us to leave them thus, but we were all mad, delirious with hunger. From the crest of the eminence on which we soon stood a well-worn path descended a few yards and disappeared behind an immense boulder. Even in our sorry plight our sense of caution did not desert us, nor yet a conscious- ness of the grave fact that we were interlopers on hostile territory, where all manner of tricks were practised by the natives to lure the Occidental invader to destruction. Peters and I accordingly approached the signal with a stealth born of many hazardous experiences in Uncle Sam’sarmy. Exposing only the minimum portion of our bodies, we peered eagerly round the great stone. arce more than arm’s length beyond, three Filipinos in seafaring garb were busy over a. flat stone, dressing fish, Had one of them chanced to glance up we must have been dis- covered at once; but the possibility of detection was lost to me in what I saw farther on. Under an improvised shelter, formed of ragged sail-cloth, a man and a woman were seated together upon a rattan settle. ‘hey were comfortably attired, and were, to all appearances, Americans. Overjoyed at the sight of succour so near at hand, Peters and I gave way to our feelings in irrepressible cries of delight and broke upon the scene, whereupon the three natives, evidently thinking us some new species of wild man, fled precipitately. The two occupants of ‘the rude shelter rose and stared hard at us as we seized the abandoned fish and began voraciously to devour them. At first somewhat taken aback, they quickly realized our pitiable state. The natives were hastily summoned, and dispatched to fetch up Jinks and Talmers, and within the hour every member of the ill-fated Zamboanga exploring expedition had been carefully minis- tered to and was deep in sleep—the sleep of reaction. I slumbered unbrokenly for fifteen hours, and of all the party I was the first to wake. ‘There seemed little doubt that our good Samaritans were shipwrecked tourists. Of this, their apparel, the maritime servants, the sail- cloth, and numerous articles of ship’s furniture gave evidence. I was informed by my host that I was correct in all my surmises regarding him and his companion, and that food, con- sisting of fish, nuts, and various kinds of fruits, was to be found in abundance on another part of the island. One thing struck me as queer. My informant had forgotten the name of the ill-starred vessel on which he had taken passage! The state- ment, in my private opinion, lacked somewhat of plausibility. Incidentally he added that, prior to their being cast away, he had enjoyed no acquaintance with~the lady who had by a

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THE chance fallen under his protection. He also explained why the three natives had been so frightened at the unceremonious advent of Peters and myself. Originally they had been six in number, the only surviving members of the ship's crew. Of those six, three had mys- teriously come to their death within the month which saw them cast adrift. In each case the fatality had occurred during the night, and not the slightest mark or abrasion on the body of the deceased had furnished a clue to the cause of death. Each, on retiring, had been in perfect health, and suicide by poisoning was quite out of the question. But one-half of the original six now remained, and they were victims of a superstitious dread so horrible that death would almost be a boon. In connection with this extraordinary statement I recalled the four skeletons which our party had come upon that morning, and also the singular experi ence of Talmers and myself the preceding night. After all, our un- timely disturber might not have been so harmless as I had supposed. Even now the thought was dis- quieting, for, if there had been danger the fore- going night, might it not return in the same form ? Several nights following our arrival passed without incident. The natives re- fused to sleep without posting a sentry, but, for all he could see dur- ing the periods of intense darkness, he, too, might as well have slept. In the woman, or rather girl, with whom Fortune had now associated us, I found a deep, responsive nature and a personality which, I confess, was much to my liking. She was a typical daughter of the States, highly educated and refined, and possessed a rare regal beauty such as few women are endowed with. I was not the only one of our party, however, to whom NAMELESS ISLAND. 17 the charms of our fair countrywoman appealed. While I was yet a candidate for favour, Talmers, unfortunate fellow, was already a slave to the ruling passion. Under the circumstances I deemed it best to withdraw and leave the field to my unsuspecting rival. I did, though not nearly so easily as I here record the fact ; and of all the sagacious steps I ever took, that proved pre-eminently the wisest. A fortnight passed uneventfully, and then one morning one of the natives failed to respond to his companions’ vigorous attempts to rouse him. Like his predecessors, he was dead, and as before there was positively no trace of an exterior agent of fatality. I made a minute examination of the body, and was forced in the “"D MADE A MINUTE. EXAMINATION OF THE BODY, AND WAS FORCED IN THE MAIN TO ACKNOWLEDGR MYSELF BAFFLED." main to acknowledge myself baffled. One thing, however, which escaped the notice of all the others somehow impressed me, though from a causative view-point I cannot say that I attached much significance to it. A very close, I might almost say microscopic, examination of the remains revealed tome a strange yet incon

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172 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. trovertible truth. The entire body was shrivelled! Inasmuch as the more practical of my com- panions were of opinion that the natives were dying of some infection peculiar to their race, I recognised the uselessness of trying to con- vince them to the contrary, and hence kept my discovery as well as my theories to myself. Time went on, and the ever-beckoning square of sail-cloth availed us nothing. Oftentimes every day Talmers and his pretty sweetheart would ascend to the crest of the hill and sit beside our symbol of distress, where they would lay plans for the halcyon days when they would dwell once more in “ God’s country ” and in the happiness of their mutual love. But always the sea was blank; never a sail or a smudge of smoke did we see. One day, when Jinks and Talmers had gone into the jungle with a view to replenishing our larder and the two shipwrecked Americans were also absent from the little camp, Peters and I grew weary of the company of the two surviving natives, and wandered off among the hillocks that bordered the shore. At a point some distance from the camp the sound of voices, coming from behind a ledge of rock, prompted us to pause and listen. We instantly recognised the voices as those of the two castaways. We could distinguish every word that passed between them, though we should have disdained to spy upon them had not something we heard sud- denly rooted us in wonder to the spot. “You shall dissociate yourself with him at once!” we heard in the man’s voice. “If you continue to encourage his attentions I will make known to the entire party the horrible secret which, I fear, we have already withheld too long.” In an agony of suspense Peters and I noise- lessly crept nearer to the strange castaways. In common with her ripe beauty, the girl possessed a courageous spirit, which she was not slow in manifesting. “As you please,” she returned, warmly ; ‘if you dare betray me you shall find yourself as much involved as I. Moreover, I shall deny the truth of your statement and attribute your motive to jealousy.” We heard the man, as if stung to the quick, spring to his feet, or otherwise change his Position. “ May Heaven shed tears of mercy upon your beautiful, wicked head!” he cried, passionately. “T admit now, woman, that I Zave loved you, but I have always tried to conceal my passion ; the impossibility of our ever being united in wedlock under the approval of God or man has always kept me silent. We have both suffered much. In His all-secing wisdom our Maker has caused a blight to rest upon our unfortunate bodies. I can but accept my lot, and you shall accept yours !” Judging from sounds which immediately followed that the girl was preparing to with- draw, Peters and I made haste to transfer our- selves to a more prudent hiding-place near by. We had barely taken up our new position when the girl, unaccompanied, came into view over the ledge and took her way campward. On her matchless face was a pallor as of death. When her graceful figure had vanished past an eleva- tion I turned to Peters. For once his gravity was that of a judge about to pronounce a sentence of death. “What confounded mystery have we got mixed up in now?” I queried. “ Will it be pirates, or escaped convicts ?” “Neither,” opined Peters, thoughtfully. “What, then?” I asked, in amazement. Ignoring my question, my companion moved towards the camp in silence, his eyes bent upon the ground, as if he were deep in some newly- evolved theory. After we had gone a little way we were suddenly joined by the man whose strange language had but a few moments since so completely mystified us. “Gentlemen,” he began, earnestly, “I have information to give you which will be of much importance to your party, vitally so to a par- ticular member of it. I cannot impart what I would say before the morrow, inasmuch as what shall be told depends upon the decision to-night of another.” Though much of what he would have said was afterwards made plain, the strange man was destined never to relate what a guilty conscience bade him. Next morning he was found stark and stiff, the fifth known victim of that deadly shrivelling agency which had already claimed four of the Filipinos. Again the cause of death was a profound mystery. Every feature of the preceding fatalities was duplicated. We only knew that the grim reaper had once more been amongst us in some strange form, leaving no trace by which the mysterious agent of death might be identified. We laid the remains in a shallow grave, bowing our heads in a farewell prayer, while the tears of the girl moistened the earth above him. My comprehension was never so utterly at a loss. With each succeeding day the matter was assuming a more serious aspect. That some hitherto unheard-of scourge was among us was not to me a feasible explanation. From the first my theory had been that, despite the vigilance of our native watchmen, death had come to every victim through a tangible agent. With this conviction strong.upon me I proposed

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THE NAMELESS ISLAND. 173 to the party that we should institute a system- atic watch for the mysterious enemy. My pro- posal was heartily agreed to by Peters, Jinks, and Talmers, and the solution of the problem was eagerly undertaken under my direction. Three nights of peace and quiet brought round my personal turn of guard duty. I com- menced my patrol at dusk. The night was dark as Erebus. The evening wore away with- out incident, and after a while a wisp of rice- straw, ignited from a flint, showed me both hands of my watch standing at twelve. By the light of my torch I made a careful inspection of the male sleepers, finishing with a glance at the girl in her quarters apart. All was well. I resumed my patrol, circling, with alert ears, around my uncon- scious companions and pausing at short intervals the better to hear any slight sound. The small hours of morning stole slowly in and made themselves impressive by the far-reaching stillness they brought. It was after four o’clock before any un- usual sound broke the monotony of my vigil, Then my ear apprised me that some heavy body was being dragged over the ground directly toward where I stood. The Something was coming at last! I was about to clear up the mystery ! Motionless as the Sphinx, lest I should betray my presence, I waited, and slowly, very slowly, the strange sound came nearer. When the invisible Something was almost at my feet a horrific vision of some great sea-monster rose before me, a shapeless mass seen indistinctly through the gloom. My courage, I confess, began to ooze away, and I retreated softly, reaching into my pocket for the means by which to view the monster. As ill-luck would have it, I had only the wisp of straw, having absent- mindedly laid the flints down somewhere when last examining the sleepers. I knew approxi- mately where I had left them, however, so I cautiously made my way thither and put out my hand in search. Horror of horrors! the palm of my hand met the rubbery, oval back of the monster. I sprang up, choking back a cry of dismay and terror, and my hand by chance struck a sharp- pointed pole we used for spearing fish. Snatch- ing it up, I drove it with all my might at the awful thing in the darkness, but upon examina- tion I found that my weapon had penetrated From a) "PRTERS, ONE OF THE AUTHOR'S Com- PANIONS. nothing more than the earth; the prowler was gone. This last discovery, needless to say, was a great relief to me, but no human mind can measure my consternation at observing by the first faint light of dawn, lying stone-dead and rigid where he had slept—Jinks! I told the horrified survivors all that had happened during the night, and thenceforward every ember of the party slept armed with a keen-edged knife. But doom, like the sword of Damocles, seemed hanging over us all. We changed the location of our camp in the hope of elud- ing the terror, but to no avail. Unerringly the clammy peril sought us out, showing no par- tiality, racial or otherwise, in the selection of its victims. One of the two remaining Filipinos was next to pass from our little band, and—to my great astonishment —at a time when Peters the unfailing stood guard and dared the monster. One night, some days later, I was wallowing in the clutches of a fearful nightmare. In a sub-conscious state, I seemed to feel the tentacles of some mighty devil - fish tightening about me. I essayed to move. Heavens! A plaster cast could have held me no firmer than did the awful feelers that entwined me. I tried to cry out, but my tongue clove intractably to the roof of my mouth. Oh, the torture of lying all night like this, with those long, flexible arms ever embracing me the closer. My knife, ground to a razor edge, was beside me, and, alas, with what telling effect I had planned to use it! As I lay desperately striving to master myself and throw off my tormentor, my dull consciousness recorded another appalling fact. The “ creeping death ”—as I had come to call it—was approach- ing me! I distinctly heard the same dragging sound that I had heard once before. So Fate had decreed that here I was to meet the same end as my unfortunate companions! A shudder rippled through my body at this agonizing thought, and my hand twitched, but I was still a prisoner to that strange paralysis. A moment more, and something cold and adhesive suddenly settled down upon my naked foot, sending a thrill of horror through every fibre of my body. Instantly I became conscious of a strange truth—the shock had restored me to mobility. I attempted to reach for my knife, but—marvel of marvels!—I could scarce raise (Photograph.

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74 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. my hand. I was like one stricken with palsy ; but somehow it dawned upon me that it was not palsy, nor anything else than great weakness. Making an almost superhuman effort, I seized my knife and essayed to sit up. I might as well have tried to fly, for a strange, heavy object lay flatly across my chest and legs. Now that I nightmare had been the mysterious Something itself! Yes, there upon my chest, somewhat more flattened out now, I saw once more the frightful thing which I had come to look upon with almost superstitious dread. Its cold, slimy back chilled me to the marrow as with faltering fingers I traced a direction along “1 RAISED MY WEAPON AND PLUNGED IT TO THE HILT IN THE HORRIBLE, VISCOUS MONSTER.” was wide awake I could feel the pressure unmis- takably, and also something like innumerable tiny pincers tugging at my flesh wherever the thing pressed my body. In one sickening flash of comprehension it occurred to me that my its middle for the slash of my knife. Summoning all my remaining strength, I raised my weapon and plunged it to the hilt in the horrible, viscous monster. It relaxed perceptibly, and I ripped and stabbed at it in a frenzy of

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THE NAMELESS ISLAND. 175 desperation. Simultaneously my voice came back, and I set the night palpitating with a:low, long-drawn wail. I knew little more. I was only conscious that the wounded creature slapped my chest and legs alternately, like some great fish in its last throes. I was dimly sensible that a warm flood of something was pouring over me, and that the struggles of the deadly creeper were fast becoming feebler. Then I lost consciousness. Our little camp must have presented a lively spectacle shortly after my encounter with the monster. Actuated the previous evening by some spirit of chance, we had drawn lots to determine who should stand guard for the night. The remaining native had asked permission to take part in the lottery, and his wish had been granted. To him had fallen the unlucky lot, and he, in turn, not long thereafter, had fallen asleep. In the still watches of that eventful night homely old Peters was aroused from untroubled slumber by a single soul-piercing cry. Trained to a life of excitement, he was on his feet in a trice, with an axe in his hand, bawling the alarm. In the dim starlight he collided with the brown-skinned watchman, confused and but half awake, and, suspecting the truth, he sent the drowsy native sprawling, yelping with terror. To Peters’s calls there came no response, which to him seemed most singular, In a few seconds he found flint and steel, and ignited a sheaf of dried grass. Its quick blaze set forth an appalling picture. For an instant Peters verily believed himself to be the only survivor of the party. A glance showed him ‘his com- panions all lying as if in death, while, stretched limply across my own form, he made out a long, black object, oval-backed and flat-bellied, and mottled with blood which flowed from several wide gashes in its back, one of which, running cross-wise, had almost divided the body. Peters grasped these first details almost in the twinkling of an eye. He had scarce taken in the situation when a curious dragging sound caught his ear. He followed the sound with his eye, and beheld, just disappearing beyond the circle of light, ¢hree great, black objects whose means of locomotion were identi- cal with those of the ordinary bloodsucker or leech.* Hastily adding more fuel to the blaze, Peters gave chase. Although the retreat of the great leeches was incredibly swift, Peters came up with them at the water’s edge, where, with a few quick blows of his weapon, he dispatched all three and left them writhing in pools of blackish blood. Worthy as was the deed of my old comrade, it could not restore the life of one of our party, every member of which save Peters and the native watchman had undergone the horrible, life-sapping process. Talmers and I . were resuscitated after many hours of laborious effort on the part of Peters, but the old soldier knew at once, upon investigating the case of the girl, that the best medical aid, even were it at hand, would avail nothing. Later we all looked upon her sweet, sad face, more beautiful than ever, if possible, in its reposeful, almost divine expression. . Talmers’s sorrow was too deep for tears. I was apprehensive lest his mind should become unbalanced by the sad occurrence. Unfortunate fellow ! he little dreamed that he had, in spite of himself, been rescued from a fate more appalling than death itself. None suspected the astounding truth at the time, nor until we were being hauled aboard a roving merchantman three days later did we obtain from a chance- found document of deportation incontrovertible evidence that we had been living with two run- aways from the great leper island of the - Philippines! My thoughts ran back to the strange conversation which Peters and I had heard, and a mystery second only to the “creeping death” itself was solved: The wretched couple had doubtless bribed the native seamen of some supply ship to remain with them as servants, but exactly how they made their escape it is impossible to say.* The passing ship which, fortunately for us, observed our sail-cloth signal proved to be the Senorita del Viento, owned by Mr. Wilbur S. .Wilson, of Manila, at which port, in due course, we arrived. So far as I could ascertain from the captain of the vessel, our island was nameless ; no one on board knew anything of its history, nor had they ever landed upon it before. One thing I know, however: neither ‘Talmers, Peters, nor myself ever wish to’ set eyes upon its accursed shores again. * First-Sergeant H. R. Macfarland, U.S. Marine Corps, who has lived for many years in the South Philippines, writes: Regard- ing the enormous size of leeches in Philippine waters, T myself have seen speciinens of these mammoth discophera over a yard in length, and of an incredibly bold and vicious nature.” “Concerning this point, Mr. H.R. Macfarland states in his letter : “As ds the lepers of whom Mr. Lewis writes, many residents of Manila will remember having read in. their papers during the latter part of tgot of the sensational escape from ‘Leper Island" of several members of the gruesome culuny there located.”

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Fighting the Mountain Lion. . ; By FRepERIcK A. TALBOT. The terror of the great cattle and horse ranches of the Western States is the cougar, or mountain lion, whose depredations have become so serious that the stockmen have petitioned the Government for assistance. In this article Mr. Talbot describes the methods by which the Yellowstone Park region is being freed from this fierce and bloodthirsty pest. HERE are few pests so feared by the ranchmen of Colorado, Wyoming, and the other States where the raising of cattle consti- tutes the premier industry, as the stealthy and avaricious cougar, or, to give the animal -its popular sobriquet, the mountain lion. During the course of the year the losses among the stock from the depredations of this beast are enormous. Sportsmen, too, have occasion to regret its ravages among the antelope, elk, and other game in this region, which is the finest hunting-ground in the world, since it is rapidly decimating the stocks of these animals. Owing to the fact that the means of exterminating the feline are somewhat restricted because of the scarcity of men_ sufficiently acquainted with the habits of the creature, it has multiplied so rapidly that the Government has been compelled to assist in its destruc- tion. In order to encour- age the destruction of the cougar, the various authorities have offered bounties for every mountain lion destroyed, but these repressive measures have proved insufficient. Not long ago the ranchmen petitioned the Legisla- ture of Arizona to increase the bounty from two to four sovereigns per head. It was stated that the losses suffered by the stockmen in young calves and colts, owing to From a} A PARTY READY FOR THE HUNT. the attacks of the mountain lion, amounted to as high as eighteen per cent. In fact, in some instances in Arizona the horse-raisers have lost so many young colts from this cause that they have been ruined, and these sufferers state that a reward of ten pounds for males and seven pounds for female lions would be by no means excessive. The cougar is most peculiar in its tastes, It only attacks the youngest animals, and, unfor- tunately, it is of a most epicurean disposition. It does not devour its prey, but simply feasts upon the blood. Consequently, when a cougar attacks a flock, it effects widespread destruc- tion, killing the animals right and left, and leaving the mangled carcasses of its victims behind. In some cases the stockmen have found ten or twelve dead colts or calves scattered within a small area, the result of only a few hours’ work on the part of the lion, while it is no uncom- mon circumstance for four or five animals to be killed during a single night by one cougar. When the number of these pre- datory beasts is re- membered it will be seen that the extent of their ravages is sufficient to cause the stockmen the gravest concern. The creature, more- over, is so stealthy and wary that capture be- comes a matter of great difficulty. Occa- sionally a cowboy will catch the mountain lion at work on the (Photograph.

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FIGHTING THE MOUNTAIN LION. 177 = ” 9 as ae a 1 PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT (ON LEFT) AND MR. From a) A HUNTING-TRIP. body of some calf or colt, and immediately dis- patch it with a well-directed shot, but such in- stances areextremely rare, and more often than not the beast makes its raid and escapes successfully before the ranchmen are aware of its proximity. Recourse is made to trapping, but the success attending these efforts is very slight, for the beasts are possessed of such strength that when caught in a snare they invariably succeed in breaking the trap. The only effective method of coping with the pest is to organize well - equipped expeditions and track the lions to their lairs, but such quests are both perilous and expensive, as well as occupying considerable time. It is anticipa- ted that if the rewards per’ head were heavily increased it might be considered worth the while of trained lion - hunters to embark upon a cougar-exterminating ex- pedition, but, unfortunately, the number of men skilled in such work is very limited. There is one man, however, who has now made the destruction of the mountain lion his especial object. This is John Goff, who is one of the most experienced and skilful guides and hunters in this sparsely-populated region. For over twenty years he has been Vol. xx.—23. N GOFF DISCUSSING (Photograph. engaged in hunting, and is familiar with every nook and corner of this part of the States. His face is familiar to all those who set out for Montana, Colorado, or Wyoming to seek adven- ture, for with this experienced hunter a full measure of excitement is assured, and he is so familiar with the habits and haunts of the various prey that under his guidance good sport is certain. When President Roosevelt goes to Colorado on his hunting expeditions he is always accompanied by Mr. John Goff and his brother, and it was due to the energetic recommendations of the President that the Goffs have been deputed by the American Government to rid the Yellowstone Park, the famous natural game preserve of the Continent, of the mountain-lion pest. The Presi- dent realized only too well that unless some drastic measures were quickly adopted the bison and other animals, which are, under normal conditions, rapidly becoming extinct, would dis- appear in a much shorter time if the cougar were permitted to pursue its ravages unchecked. Owing to the protection afforded to the animals in the Yellowstone Park the mountain lions havea rich selection; and as hunting is now completely prohibited in this extensive enclosure, the pest has been left alone and has multiplied enormously, at the same time regaining the boldness which charac- terized it during the days when the Park was only trodden by the feet of nomadic Indians. The task before John Goff and his coterie of From a Photog: aph.

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178 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. experienced assistants is by no means an easy one, despite the numbers of the animals. ‘The hunt is attended by numerous risks and dangers, for the cougar has its lair in the most difficult places. These intrepid guides will receive a bounty from the Government of one pound per head for every lion they dispatch, together with a monthly retainer. It is anticipated that by this means the Park will, in course of time, be completely freed from the animals, though their extermination will occupy several years. Unfortunately, the period in which the expeditions can be undertaken is limited to only a few months in the year, owing to the climatic conditions which pre- vail. The winter in this region is abnorm- ally severe, being almost Arctic in its nature. Consequently, the men can only pursue their operations between the spring and the autumn. The work of extermina- tion is being carried out upon a systematic basis, so that every mile of the Park can be scoured. A cougar hunt contains as much excite- ment as the most 4/asé sportsman could desire. Owing to its wariness it is difficult to approach the animal very closely, and its fleetness of foot renders its pursuit a matter of great difficulty. To track it to its lair it is necessary to employ a pack of hounds, so that the hunt becomes some- what similar to the quest of the fox or stag in this country, only far more hazardous and ex- hilarating in its nature. The dogs employed for the purpose have to be specially trained, and this constitutes a most difficult operation, since the animal must be possessed of great strength and staying power, so as to carry it through the ' Rs tty THE BKOTHEKS GOFF WITH THEIR DOGS, SPECIALLY TRAINED TO ATTACK COUGARS. From a Photograph. THE DOGS BARKING TO INDICATE THE PRESENCE OF A MOUNTAIN LION From a) IN A TREE. (Photograph. barren and rocky country. ‘The Goffs possess the largest and finest pack of cougar hounds in the country, and their training is the outcome of nearly twenty years’ hard work on the part of their owners. In his earlier experiments John Goff suc- ceeded in teaching the dogs to follow the mountain-lion scent, but at the same time, if any other game happened to stray across their trail, the hounds, with their innate hunting instinct, turned away from the quest of the mountain lion in favour of the other game. Under these circumstances it became imperative to teach them, to hunt only a 4 the one quarry, and | to leave the deer, ~ elk, and antelope severely alone. This was no easy task, but by dint of great patience John Goff at last succeeded in teaching the hounds to obey his com- mands and to pursue the cougar only. Under these cir- cumstances the dog becomes a valuable asset. A good puppy will cost anything ‘from seven to twenty 4 pounds. He _ has then.to be subjected

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FIGHTING THE MOUNTAIN LION. 179 ‘ ‘ _ antelopes and other game strewn along- M side the trail. On one occasion Mr. Goff, while out upon an expedition, came across the bodies of five elk lying close to one another, all having been attacked by one cougar. Presently the sniffing dogs give vent to a loud and joyful barking. ‘The trail of a mountain lion has been struck, and the hounds run swiftly forward, eager for the coming fray. Even the horses seem to scent battle, for they prick up their ears and jog merrily along. Instantly every- thing becomes animated. Stumbling and swaying from side to side, the party follow hot on the heels of the dogs. ‘The ground is rough and the going hard, but this is forgotten in the excitement of the chase. The run may be for many miles, while, on the other hand, the dogs may have disturbed their prey at his feast, in which case the fight is short and sharp. Invariably the cougar, finding he can- not shake off his pursuers, takes to a From a) A TYPICAL MOUNTAIN LION. to many months’ training in the work of trailing the cougar. When the prey has been run to earth and seeks the shelter of trees, he must be taught to betray its presence. Once “treed,” the lion is shot, but very often it is only wounded and falls to the ground. Then, being cornered, it is exception- ally fierce, and puts up a terrific struggle for life. This is a critical moment for the dogs, since, if they fail to attack the wounded animal in the proper manner, widespread damage will be caused among the pack, several dogs being killed or mortally injured before the lion can be dispatched. To embark upon a lion - hunting expedition the sportsman must be pro- vided with an extensive though light equipment, and prepared to spend several days among the barren wastes and rocky fastnesses. The horses used are sure-footed and wiry animals, com- petent to follow the slightest track among the mountains. The hunt is rough and dangerous, and in order to embarrass the horses as little as pos- sible only the lightest and most com- pact equipment can be carried. As you wind along through the narrow paths of this desolate region the results of the attacks of the cougar may be Pd THE COUGAR'S DEADLY WORK—ONE_OF FIVE RLK KILLED KY THE observed in the mutilated corpses of From a) SAME ANIMAL. Photograph.

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180 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. tree, where he cannot be followed by the dogs. But these efforts are of no avail. The dogs jump and bark around the base of the trunk in an excited circle, exasperated at not being able to follow their quarry. When the party arrives on the scene the animal may be descried crouching among the branches, spitting and snarling viciously at the yelping hounds beneath. A rifle cracks out in the still air, and witha piercing snarl the cougar tumbles to the ground. But it is not yet conquered. The dogs, pressing round, keep at a respectful distance from the sharp claws and gnashing teeth of the animal. The hunters dismount from their horses, since the critical moment has now arrived, and at any instant they may be Tequired to step in and save their dogs, especially if the lion is a large, full-grown specimen. Assistance cannot be rendered by the rifle, since the quarry and dogs are now of killing the animal. The hunter, armed with a long knife, cautiously approaches the cornered lion and, when opportunity offers, rushes in and buries the blade in the cougar’s throat. Such methods, needless to say, are highly dangerous, and to dispatch a cornered animal in this manner demands experience, dexterity, and a cool head. Should the man make a mistake he will have cause to regret it, for at such times the cougar is so ferocious that the man will be terribly lacerated and mauled by the lion’s teeth and claws. During his cougar-hunting expedition in this tegion President Roosevelt often dispatched the animals in this way, greatly to the concern and astonishment of the party, and the President’s cool and collected manner and dexterity in such contingencies excited the admiration of experienced cougar-hunters, for he handled the knife at such times with all the skill of an old “TREED!"—WHEN HARD PRESSED BY THE DOGS THE LION INVARIARLY TAKES TO A TREE, WHENCE ONLY From a) engaged in a fierce battle, and the shot intended for the lion might possibly miss its mark and strike a hound. Meanwhile the dogs await their opportunity to spring in and seize the lion by the throat. The favourable moment arriving, one rushes in and grasps the lion in this way. Simultaneously the others, with a victorious bark, spring upon the animal, burying their teeth in its back and spine, and in a few moments this particular mountain lion will trouble the game no more. But the dogs do not always have such an easy conquest. If the lion is unusually large he is more than a match for his adversaries, keeping the hounds at bay with his cruel claws and teeth. At such times there is only one means A BULLET CAN DISLODGE HIM, (Photograph. and well-tried hand. On one of these occasions the President made a record haul, for he dis- patched the largest cougar that has ever been tun to earth. It was a veritable monarch, measuring some fourteen feet in length from tip to tip and scaling two hundred and twenty-seven pounds. The President preserves the head of this veteran as a memento of his expedition, among his numerous other hunting trophies. Prior to the President’s record kill, the largest mountain lion ever caught was one familiarly known as “ Old Bob.” He was a massive brute, two pounds lighter than the President’s, but one that had for a long time caused a reign of terror among the ranchmen in the Collegiate Moun- tains. He was five years of age; and was too

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= ¢f rg i FIGHTING THE MOUNTAIN LION. 181 cunning to be caught by the most cleverly - contrived ttaps, while he. successfully baffled all efforts to track him to his lair. However, one old ranchman did not despair of success. He set some cunningly- made traps in the region of “Old Bob’s” haunts. Though he did not trap the wary old lion, he secured his female mate and two of the young. When, however, he approached the traps, conceive his astonishment to see “Old Bob” mounting guard. He looked so ferocious, with his bared teeth and his flashing eyes, that the ranch- man took good care to keep be- yond the reach of a leap. The lion --crouched down ready to spring, but just as his body was quivering for the leap the stockman, who had taken careful and deliberate aim, let fly with his rifle and the lion jumped into the air and rolled over dead, the bullet having pierced his brain. Without more ado the rancher in turn shot the mother and the cubs. Proud of his achievement the rancher obtained assistance and carried his prize to the nearest township, where “Qld Bob,” who had so long ter- rorized the stockmen, was placed on exhibition. During his life this animal j bite a = THE END OF THE CHASE—MK. JOHN GOFF WITH A DEAD COUGAR, From a Photograph. SOME OF PRESIDENT ROOSE Is THE MEAD OF THE 1 . ‘ANIMAL WEIGHED TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTV-SEVEN POUNDS. From a Photograph. had wrought considerable havoc among the herds, having killed scores of colts and calves. It will be realized that the task of clearing the Yellowstone Park of the cougar is by no means an easy one, but that it will eventually be accomplished by John Goff and his pack of hounds seems well-nigh certain, though the operation will occupy several years. Without the assistance of the hounds which he has trained for the purpose it would be utterly impossible to essay the work. Owing to the exciting adventures promised in the quest of this pugnacious animal it affords excellent sport to the hunter, and several organizations are being formed by sporting millionaires who desire a little relaxation and respite from business worries by accompanying John Goff on his dangerous enterprise.

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By G. R. O'REILLY. An incident in a young undergraduate’s first visit to Spain. “If ever you find yourself in such an alarming situation,” writes the author, ‘I trust that you will get clear of it as neatly as I did.” fm) AN you imagine the feelings of a man who listens to his own murder being planned ? I once went through that most dismal experience. I heard it all with my own ears; and yet had to sit there, and bide my time to escape. This story tells how I got. into the predicament, the manner in which I got out of it, and of the subsequent happenings. If ever you find your- self in such an alarming situation, I trust that you will get clear of it as neatly as I did. It happened, while I was still a student in college, that I was able to gratify a long-cherished wish to pay a visit to Spain. The majority of English writers have not been either favourable or fair to Spain or her people. Consequently, although I was elated at the prospect of seeing an interesting country that was new to me, yet I had misgivings lest there should be more truth than I was ready to credit in stories of the knife and the garrotte. The Scottish captain of the steamship AZeéeor, in which I sailed from Glasgow, did much to excite my alarm. He strongly disapproved of everything Spanish, and though I listened to him politely, yet without conviction, his talking had this much effect—in spite of my better judg- ment, there hung around my reveries shadowy forms of brigands and midnight assassins. Now, as I had been in college for several years and was a fairly diligent student, I had a good working knowledge of Latin, and could read, write, and speak it—for some of our professors lectured in Latin and the business of certain classes was conducted entirely in that tongue. French I knew to read, but at that time I could not speak it. Of Spanish, however, I had no knowledge—or, at least,’ I thought I hadn’t—till I went aboard the steamer, and began pounding away at grammar and dictionary. I soon discovered that by the application of Grimm’s law of philological changes I could quite easily turn Latin words into Spanish. Yet when I landed at Cadiz I found that, though I could say things myself and be understood, I could not comprehend what was said to me, for my ear was not used to the pronunciation. Determined to associate wholly with Spaniards, and to avoid English-speaking people as much as possible, I resolved to put up at some purely Spanish hotel that would be at the same time safe and respectablé and yet moderate in terms. As Catholic priests all over the world know Latin, and as no man could be expected to give

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WHY I WAS NOT MURDERED. 183 more honest advice than a priest, I made my way to the cathedral, where I hoped to find someone to direct me to a proper hostelry. Soon I was in conversation with Don Manuel Fuentes y Tzquierda, a thin, ascetic-looking ecclesiastic of some forty-five or fifty years of age. He was most courtly and gracious in his manners, and though his pronunciation differed somewhat from my own, still we got on very well in the tongue of the Czesars. I told him that I was a student desirous of learning as much as possible of Spain, Spanish, and the Spaniards; that I was particularly devoted to natural history; and that, before returning to my own country, I meant to go over into Morocco, where there were many species of snakes which I desired to see and know about, more especially as I had a good knowledge of the snakes of the southern end of Africa and wished to compare them with those of the north. : Don Manuel was much interested in my projects. He told me that if I would favour him by dining with him at the hotel where he took his meals he would see to it that I should be safely lodged there ; that there was no better place in all Cadiz; and that he would speak for me to the proprietor, so that I might get special attention as long as I remained. Accordingly, I walked over with Don Manuel to the hotel. It was in the Calle San Francisco, on the side next the bay. The number of it I do not now remember, but it appeared to be a good enough house, quiet and unostentatious— just such a place as a priest would select. About ten of us sat down to dine together. At the head of the table was the lady of the house—very dark-skinned, even for a Spaniard. She appeared to be about forty or thereabouts, and was much wrinkled; her eyes were of a piercing black. Somehow I- did not like the look of her face, but her manner was pleasing enough. Don Manuel introduced me to the company, and during dinner gave them some account of me, and of my intention of going across into North Africa. I could not follow his Spanish, but I caught a word here and there. Occasion- ally he would turn to me and ask a question or two, the answer to which he would turn into Spanish for the benefit of the company. Altogether we had a pleasant dinner, and I was sorry when it was over and they all went away, including Don Manuel, who, before leaving, took the trouble to have me shown to my room, meanwhile recommending me to the lady of the house and expressing the hope that he might see me well and happy next day, when we should have the pleasure of meeting again at dinner. After my new friend’s departure I retired to my room and spent some time in reflecting on my surroundings, and speculating about the things new and strange that 1 should soon see both in Spain and in Morocco. After a while there came a knock at my door. It was the house-lady inviting me to come out and sit with her during the cool of the evening in the veranda overlooking the patio. Thanking her for the honour she did me, 1 followed. On the veranda I found several rocking-chairs; she took one and I took another. Presently we were joined by two other ladies. One of them was elderly —at least sixty, but still handsome. Dignified she was, and suave ; evidently a lady of rank. “She must be a marchioness at least,” thought I ; ‘and this innocent-looking girl with her, so pretty, so quiet, and so gentle, is her niece.” I suppose I thought this because the older one was more aunt-like than motherly. The ladies fanned themselves and smiled, making remarks and observations from time to time—sometimes to me and sometimes to each other ; but what they said was lost on me, for I could only catch a word here and there. How- ever, I tried to say something. I would make up a sentence in Spanish and, at what I con- sidered a suitable moment, I would deliver my remark. I found that I was understood perfectly; for there would ensue a flood of answers, leaving me in a worse fix than before, because I could not for the life of me disentangle their words. The lady of the house, however, having heard me make my remarks in tolerable Spanish, thought naturally that if I could say things I could also comprehend what was said to me, so she apparently made up her mind to compel me to understand her by becoming more emphatic. She would bend forward and repeat her sentences over and over again, speaking each time louder than before, as if I were deaf. As on each occasion I answered, “ No com- prendo,” however, she would lose her patience at last and give up the attempt. Just as the evening was growing dusk I heard someone coming up the stairs from the fasra. The step was soft and catlike. “It is a woman,” I thought, instinctively. But no; I was wrong, for the door opened and a man stepped into the veranda. With a bland smile and an obsequious bow he came among us. He was tall and thin, and he wore those detestable “ Dundreary ” whiskers which I always hated. Moreover, he had those eyes which no one likes — small, black, and piercing, set close together, and so shifty that he never looked anyone in the face for two con- secutive seconds. -F-have said that his step was

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184 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. cat-like and that his smile was bland. Yes; and his voice was soft and purring. He spoke as if he were afraid of being overheard. I did not like him at all, even at first sight; and I liked him less and less as the time passed by. Who he was I could not by any means conjecture, for, although the house-lady introduced us to each other, I failed to catch a word of what she said. He sat down and talked to her only. His soft, low tones and cautious manner seemed to put a damper on the company. The loud voice of the landlady was quelled. She spoke now as quietly as he did, and they seemed to converse in a furtive, confidential sort of way. ‘They had it all to themselves, too ; for the “ marchioness ” and her niece now said nothing at all, and neither did I. The contrast between the noisi- ness of the landlady's chatter before the gentle- man’s arrival and the hushed tones which they now used made me think that the matter of their conversation must be important. ‘lo practise my ear in Spanish, and without any idea of intruding upon their privacy, I tried to make out what they were speaking about. For some time I was puzzled; but it was evidently something grave and serious. From time to time they appeared to regard me with some suspicion, for every now and then one or other of them would glance at me. But for all that they continued to talk in my presence ; and I concluded that they thought I did not count for much, anyhow, as I could not understand Spanish well enough. I had listened thus for some time, when at last it dawned upon me that the couple were talking about myself. I caught words and phrases here and there, and I very soon became convinced that I was, surely enough, the subject of their very serious consideration. Now, it is always uncomfortable to hear people talking of you in a language you do not under- stand, but it becomes more than uncomfortable if you imagine from their manner that they do not wish you to understand. What were they saying about me? Why should this stranger talk thus semi-privately of me in low tones? I strained my ears to listen. I caught the word “Africa” two or three times; and then I caught the whole phrase, “hijo de un rico hombre” (son of a rich man). ‘Then I heard clearly, “mucho dinero ” (plenty of money), and almost immediately came the sinister words, “ muerte ” (death) and “el cuerpo” (the body) ; also “en la noche” (in the night) and “por las ventanas ” (through the window). “Good heavens!” thought I, aghast, “they are saying that I must be the son of a rich man, and have plenty of money. They mean to kill and rob me in the night and then throw my body out through the window !” I had read of such things in stories, but now it seemed I was up against them in reality. So the Scottish captain’s bleod-curdling stories had some basis after all ! I became alarmed, but I tried not to show it, listening with all my ears. There were other expressions and gestures that spoke to me like pictures of the horrible scene in which I was to be the victim. Thus the word “muerte” (death) was repeated several times by the man, and he added, “Si, sefora, con el cuchillo” (Yes, ma’am, with the knife). And the shame- less rascal had the effrontery to throw back his head and draw his finger across his throat from earto ear! I noticed that immediately after he gave me a furtive glance. I had heard quite enough, however ; that last horrible gesture convinced me. “Oh!” said I to myself. “You think I don’t understand you, you murderous scoundrel ; but T’ll be prepared for you, and you'll have a tough job before you get your knife on to my throat. Vl lay your head open with my nice little Irish blackthorn stick before you can get near me, and I'll give that diabolical woman a bigger wrinkle across her face than age ever put there. If I can only once reach my room and get that stick into my hand I’ll sell my life more dearly than you imagine. I’m twenty-one, and an athlete at that. I'll show you that I’m a match for several Spanish cut-throats or any other kind of murderers.” - Now, as both the man and woman sat in such a position that I should have to pass them to get to my room, I decided to wait a while in the hope that they would get up and leave my road clear. Meanwhile, I would show no fear or signs of alarm, so I assumed a cheerful countenance and began again to make smiling remarks to the marchioness, such as, ‘“ Hace calor” (It is warm), etc, etc. From time to time I said something like that, but neither the man nor the woman ever interfered. They con- tinued their own talk, and were, I presumed, completing their plans for my destruction. As you can well imagine, the time seemed to me to pass very slowly, and yet J stood it, and held my ground and my countenance for two or three solid hours. It must have been near ten o’clock when my own plans were fully matured and I stood up to put them into execution. I had decided that I must escape from the house before bedtime without arousing their suspicions. So I stood up and, with an “ Excuse me, sir,” I passed behind the man’s chair and went on to my room. ‘Therefrom I-took my hat and my

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WHY I WAS NOT MURDERED. 185 pretty but useful little blackthorn stick and came out again to the veranda. Fortunately, my bag- gage had not yet been sent on from the steamship office, so I had nothing to carry. Here I sat down once more in my chair, so as to show that I felt no alarm. I noticed that they looked two or three times at my hat and stick, but they made no remark until I stood up and said, in my halting Spanish, “I am going to walk in the streets for a while.” Thereupon the woman arose abruptlyand said—rathersturdily, I thought — “No, sejfior, no! You can’t walk in the streets now.” To which I replied, quietly, but with all the determi- nation I possessed, that I in- tended to go for a walk then and there. The imminence of danger sharpened my wits. I spoke Spanish more readily. I also understood her replies. “You'll return here to sleep?” she asked. “Ah, sefiora,” said I, eva- sively, “do tell me the number of the house ; I might forget it.” “Wait a moment,” she an- swered, and ran off into a room. “Take this,” she said, returning with a card, “so that you'll remember the number.” “Thank you, ma’am,” said J, pat and put my hand on the door- knob. No one prevented me. I went down the stairs, expecting at each instant that some panel! in the wall would open and an armed man leap out. But, no; I got safely to the bottom, and nothing happened. I walked across the courtyard to the entrance, and stood outside in the street—free ! “Thank Heaven!” said I, “I’ve escaped from that murderers’ den. Little does the poor priest know the character of the house he dines at.” : I could only explain their letting me out to walk because they felt sure that I should return there to sleep, when they could have me at their mercy. I decided that I. would trust myself no more in a second-rate hotel; I would find out the best in all Cadiz, and there I’d stay, no matter what it cost me. Slowly I sauntered on up the street, looking Vol xx.—24, “(THE WOMAN SAiD, ‘NO, SENOR, NO! VOU CAN'T WALK IN’ THE STREETS Now.'” at the houses along either side, lest I should miss what I sought for. Anyone could have seen that I was a stranger; and I suppose that is why a boy of about sixteen walked up to me and said in the very best English “Good even- ing, sir. Are you looking for any place? You are a stranger in Cadiz, are you not?” “Yes,” said I; “ I’ve not been long here—but who are you?” “Oh,” said he, “ I’m from Gibraltar, and my name is Johnny Wilson.” “Well, I’m glad to meet you,” I replied. “It’s jolly to have someone to talk to in my own tongue.” After this I led the conversation, asking him what were the finest churches in Cadiz, and which was considered the very best, and which were the finest hotels and what one was con- sidered the very best.

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186 THE WIDE In answer to this last query he replied thit the Hotel de Paris was the very best, and that It was quite near, “Well,” said I, “let us go there and have a bottle of wine.” “All right,” he answered; “T’ll be very pleased to accompany you.” In a few minutes we were seated at a table in the Hotel de Paris with a bottle of Manzanilla before us. After sitting there for about an hour he suggested that we should continue our walk, but I declined, saying I thought I would go to bed. I, therefore, called a waiter to show me to a room, bade my young friend good night, and followed the waiter upstairs. Needless to say, I slept without fear and without disturbance. Next morning I was up early and went out for a walk before breakfast. Going up through the Plaza San Antonio I saw the steamship office open and went in. Now, I had a letter of introduction to Don Manuel Cuvilho, one of the wealthiest men of Southern Spain, and this was known to the staff in the office. The fact is that I expected to spend most of my time in hunting on one of Ton Manuel’s country estates. The moment I appeared in the office one of the officials looked up and cried out, “Oh, you are the very man I wanted to see. It is lucky that you came in. Don Manuel is just now at his house in Xerez de la Frontera, and if you are to see him at all you must rush away this very instant. Have you money enough with you?” “Oh, yes,” said I, “I have plenty of money.” “Well, then, go as quick as you can to the railway station,” said he, looking at his watch ; “you have barely time to catch the train.” So it happened that, without returning to the Hotel de Paris to have breakfast and settle my bill, and without going to the cathedral to inform the priest of my dreadful experience, I steamed away in the train to Xerez. It was several weeks later when I returned to Cadiz. When I jumped out on the platform I was politely saluted by two men whom I had never seen before in my life. They proved to be—one, an employé of the Hotel de Paris, and- the other, an employé of the house where I had had my hair-raising experience. ‘“ Would the sefior be so good as to come to the two hotels and settle his bills?” they said. “Oh, certainly,” said I; “I meant to pay these bills this morning ; but first 1 must go to the cathedral to see Don Manuel Fuentes.” One on either side, they walked over with me to the cathedral. Don Manuel started when he saw me, and looked somewhat surprised. “Sefior,” said he, “ we thought you were dead ; but now I see we were happily wrong. How does WORLD MAGAZINE. - i happen that you disappeared out of the hotel where I stood sponsor for you, and that you left your bill unpaid ?” He spoke in Spanish, and I could now have answered him very well in the same tongue ; but I dared not do so in the presence of those two hotel men. “Yon Manuel,” said I, in Latin, “please do not speak in Spanish, as 1 have some dreadful news to communicate to you, which I cannot tell before these two men. ‘And also please have patience with me, for I know you will scarcely credit the horrible tale I have to relate to you.” _ I gave him the story of the whole scene in the veranda and went into all the details of what occurred after he had left the hotel, just as 1 have told them in the beginning of this story. At first he looked very grave. As I pro- ceeded and began to rehearse all that I had heard the man and the woman saying he would sometimes relax into a smile, and then again he would look serious and puzzled. I mentioned the expressions they used—“ hijo de un rico hombre” (son of a rich man); ‘mucho dinero” (plenty of money); “muerte” (death); “el cuerpo” (the body); “por las ventanas ” (through the window); “en la noche” (in the night); and, last of all, that dreadful “Si, senora, con el cuchillo” (Yes, ma’am, with the knife). Lastly I described the fearful gesture the man made by drawing his finger across his throat. As I proceeded through all this the priest’s eface changed its expression fully a dozen times. Sometimes he would look as black as thunder ; and then again he would smile and raise his eyebrows, looking at me in the most quizzical way you can imagine. Once or twice he almost burst into a laugh ; but as I finished he looked very scrious, leaned his elbows on the table, and with downcast eyes stayed so in perfect silence for fully a minute and a half. “ And now a question,” he said, at last. “Do -you really believe all this?” “Why, of course I believe it,” said I. “If I didn’t I shouldn’t be here telling it to you.” “ Are you a Catholic?” said he. “Certainly I am,” I replied. “You are?” He started from his chair and, standing there before me, drawn up to his full height, he extended his arms above his head—a figure of indignant rebuke. “You are a Catholic,” he thundered, “and you believe that I, a priest”—he pointed with both hands to his breast — “known by the whole city and attached to the Cathedral of Cadiz, would lead you, a stranger, to a house where you would be robbed and murdered !” “Pardon me>a_moment, Don Manuel,” said

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WHY I WAS NOT MURDERED. — 187 ““*YOU ARE A CATHOLIC, HE THUNDERED, ‘AND YOU BELIEVE THAT I, A PRIRST, WOULD LEAD VOU, A STRANGER, TO A HOUSE, WHERE VOU WOULD BE ROBBED AND MURDERED !'" I, jumping up. “Have patience with me a little. I don’t mean to say that you knew the real character of those people. I never thought that for an instant.” “Oh, but I do know their real character,” said he. “They are most excellent people. Ihave known them long and well; and what you have told me is a mistake—a most cruel mistake.” He looked at me smiling. “Sit down now again, my child,” he added, more gently. “I must not judge you harshly. I see your mistake,” and he laughed. “It was very natural after all. You were a stranger, Spanish was a new tongue to you that day. You could not fully comprehend all that was said in your presence, but you caught certain words—the words you have told me of—and they alarmed you. Now listen to me a little, while I lead you to understand. “You will remember that when you came here to me to inquire about a suitable hotel to stay at you told me all about yourself ; that you were a_ student devoted to natural history, and that you intended to go over into Africa in pursuit of your hobby ?” “Yes,” said I, “I remember all that.” “Very well, then,” he continued. “When we arrived at the hotel that day I introduced you to the company present, before we sat down to dine; and at dinner I told them of you and of the interest- ing things you had told me. Now, I have heard since’ then all that happened that evening after dinner. The woman’s brother comes in, and very naturally he says, ‘ Who is this new gentleman here ?’ She tells him, in your presence, all that I told at dinner. She says, ‘Oh, he is a student naturalist and is going over into Africa to study animal life there.’ “Well, then, her brother would naturally say, ‘Indeed! He must be the son of a very rich man if he can afford to come all the way to Spain and then go off to Airica after animals.’ And then he tells her of the dangers of travelling in Morocco at present, where Christians and other wayfarers are being robbed and killed on the roads; and how some have been knifed in the inns, and their bodies, thrown out through. the windows, are found in the streets in the morning. Morocco is, as you know, very disturbed at present, and the news- papers are full of such happenings.” Don Manuel stopped and smiled at me—a gentle, inquiring smile. I saw it all now; the priest’s explanation was the right one. Mine was absurd, and I burst out laughing. Then Don Manuel laughed ; and we both laughed together till the tears ran down our cheeks. The two hotel men, seeing us at it, joined in loudly, until people came to the door with grinning faces to see what the fun was. When we had calmed down, Don Manuel went with me to the two hotels, where I settled my bills. The hotel people had their money ; and Don Manuel and I had two good stories to tell. And that isthe end off mine.

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The Quest of the Sponge. By Mrs. KEDDELL AND GEORGE LAWRENSON. Few people know that the sponge is an animal; still fewer know anything more about it than that it is obtained from the bottom of the sea. This article gives an interesting account of the world’s sponge-fisheries as conducted in the Mediterranean, the West Indies, and elsewhere. T is really astonishing, in this age of knowledge, to note how little the average man knows about the origin i of the humble but necessary sponge. Perhaps because of its very common- place uses it is usually dismissed in an off-hand fashion as “some sort of plant obtained from the bottom of the sea and dried before we use it,” while ladies have been met with who held the existence of the sponge to first removed from its stronghold on the bottom of the sea and obseryed in a living state, the sponge bears not the faintest possible resem- blance to the domestic article. When thus brought from the deep the live sponge is sur- rounded by an outer leathery membrane or skin, in which—seemingly at the will of the animal— pores appear and disappear in uncanny fashion. Within, it is intersected by many little canals, and these are lined be entirely due to the in- genuity of man in fashion- ing articles for toilet use. Little indeed of the romance of its living his- tory clings to the prosaic sponge as we see and utilize it, and its appear- ance suggests nothing at all of the grave perils of the deep encountered by the men engaged in its quest. In the world of science the sponge’s classifica- tion appeared by no means such an easy task as the ordinary observer, with his facile, if some- what vague, definition, would make it. Both its origin and its history, however, have been given close and prolonged study by men no less highly placed in the world of natural science than Haeckel, Maas, Leuckart, Delarge, and Sollas, and they have eventually demonstrated its un- deniable right to a place in the animal kingdom. Little superior in its organization to the more elementary protozoa, its position in the scale is low, and yet it has been proved beyond doubt that the sponge is an animal with a complete digestive organism ! As a matter of fact, the sponge, as prepared for toilet and other uses, 4s but the dry, flexible skeleton of the creature ; chemically its fibrous material would appear to be closely allied to the substance spun by the silkworm. When From a) A “oy iP SPONGE. throughout by a sticky, glutinous substance of a greyish- brown colour and thick, syrupy consist- ence—the scientific name for which is “ sarcode.” Known to the sponge- gatherers as the “milk of the sponge,” this sar- code constitutes the entire living portion of the animal, the fibrous skeleton to which it adheres being purely in- organic in character. ‘The needful nourish- ment is carried to the sarcode in a most pecu- liar way, through the numerous small pores belonging to the outer membrane, which are open to admit the sur- rounding water. A regular current, through the many canals is created by means of a wondrous arrangement composed of tiny filaments—-some- thing like the human eyelash—which, moving together and in the same direction, carry a stream of water to the innermost parts of the sponge. In thus passing over a large area of the sticky sarcode the water is deprived of any particles of animal or vegetable matter it may contain, and the food thus obtained is subse- quently digested and absorbed by the sponge. Yet another series of canals takes up the water at the centre and forces it along, to emerge eventually at the outer surface through the oscula (corresponding to the larger holes of the [Photograph.

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THE QUEST OF THE SPONGE. 189 MEDITERKANEAN SPONGE-FISHING BOATS IN HAKBUUR AT HYDRA, IN THE GREEK ARCHIPELAGO, From a Photograph. toilet sponge). In this manner a current of water is kept moving through the sponge, to be robbed of its nourishment by the living mass of cells, or sarcode, and eventually expelled. Though we can quite understand that there are numberless varieties of sponges, naturalists group them all into two classes—Spongia and Hippospongia. To the former class belong the finer, close-fibred sponges used for the toilet, and to which the name “Turkey” is usually applied. Numbered amongst the Hippospongia are those many coarser qualities distinguished as bath or honey-comb sponges, in which the oscula are of considerably larger size Very few people know how world-wide is the distribution of the sponge. ‘The waters sur- rounding Great Britain contain several varieties, none of which, however, are of use in a com- mercial sense. In that mighty sea which laves the beautiful islands of the Greek and ‘Turkish Archipelagos, in the Bahamas and Cuba, and again around the coast of Florida, sponge fisheries flourish exceedingly well, whilst both the Pacific and Indian Oceans hold many of the more useful kinds. But it is in the Mediterranean, whose tideless waters are peculiarly suitable to the growth of the finest qualities, that the centre of this huge industry is found. At A©gina and Hydra in the Greek and Symi and Calymnos in the Turkish Archipelago are depdts whence the systematic working of the sponge’s industry is prosecuted. Very interesting is the Mediterranean method of fishing the sponge, and here they are obtained chiefly by means of a diving apparatus, and also through the old-fashioned method of employing naked native divers. The diving apparatus used is imported from England, and is similar to that seen around our own shores in sub- marine work. Every year finds this diving method more extensively employed, because the always considerable risks attendant on the pursuit of the animals are considerably diminished; moreover, the dress renders it possible for the men to remain an_ infinitely longer period of time under water. The native diver, however, is a very conservative person, and more often than not disdains the use of the diving- suit. He places a net round his neck in which to secure the sponges he finds, and carries a smooth, flat stone some twenty-five pounds in weight. He commences his difficult task by standing erect in the boat and inflating his chest to its utmost capacity, repeating this again and yet again until the blood is thoroughly oxygenated. Then, holding the|stone at arms’

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190 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a) length, he plunges into the sea. Not only does the stone serve to hasten the diver’s descent, but its weight also enables him to retain his position at the bottom during his search for the sponges. Having filled the net, or stayed below as long as he deems safe, the diver tugs at an accom- panying rope and is drawn rapidly to the sur- face. About two minutes is the usual duration of a dive made under these conditions, though we believe it to be a fact that expert divers will remain under water for three or three and a half minutes. This is the maximum, however, and it is known that these longer periods are attended by A TYPICAL GROUP OF MEDITERRANEAN DIVERS. [ Photograph. Needless to say, the diver’s life is a most un- healthy one, so that, though commonly men of splendid~ physique, they rarely attain old age ; and this is so well understood that insurance offices absolutely refuse to take the risk of insur- ing them. Yet the life is adventurous, the pay good, and employment is eagerly sought by the Greek inhabitants of the Archipelago. In earlier years sponge-fishing in this part of the world appears to have been carried on in a most desultory manner, and the credit for the systematic working of the present-day fisheries is due to an English firm. By this firm the . industry was grave dangers, ——— organized . tho- for at fifteen or twenty fathoms —the depths from which the best sponges are obtained — the pressure of the water on the operator’sbodyis tremendous, and his return to the surface, with its consequentrelief from _ pressure, frequently in- duces bleeding from nose, roughly and put upon a business- like basis. For instance, the year was divided into two fishing seasons, and fac- tories were esta- blished in which the necessary bleaching and sorting might be carried on, the firm eventually finding markets for the finished article. The first mouth, and ears. From a WASHING THE SPONGES (Phetgraph. attempt of this

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THE QUEST OF THE SPONGE. _ gt house to deal with the Greek fishers could hardly be termed a financial success. The men were paid a fixed weekly wage, and sponges, it was found, were éxceedingly difficult to obtain—so, ditficult, in fact, that the results never allowed the ven- ture to become a commercial success. It was amusing, however, to find the wonderful altera- tion which ensued when payment by results was initiated, for sponges were obtained by the wily Greeks in good quantities from waters hitherto fished in vain. This payment by results is the system in vogue to-day, and the divers seem to welcome the element of enterprise thus imported into a hazardous employment. Of the simple faith and trust in a guiding benefited the Greek Church to a considerable extent, and eventually the beautiful specimen— measuring some five feet across its branches— found a worthy resting-place in the British Museum. Occasionally other strange and valuable finds fall to the lot of the sponge- divers. Sometimes these men have brought up from the depths excellent specimens of the ancient Greek amphore, or wine-vessels, to which sponges have attached themselves. Dating from a period so far back as 200 B.c., their antiquity alone renders these jars interésting and enviable possessions, whilst their beauty of design must always secure recognition. Only within the last year a statue of Venus was dis- From a) Providence, so often found among those who seek their livelihood in or under the treacherous ocean, these sponge-fishers possess their full share ; but their piety has an eminently practical side. At the opening of the fishing season these men religiously observe the custom of devoting the proceeds from the sale of the first-fruits of the sea as a thank-offering to their Church. In such fashion the largest piece of black coral the world has ever known was discovered and brought to the surface by a sponge - gatherer. As a first - fruit its sale A PORTION OF THE SPONGE HARVEST. (Photograph. covered, wrought in marble by a master hand long dead and dating back to about the same period. During the summer fishing—which continues from April to October, or even November— advantage is taken of the more clement weather to seek the sponge in the deeper seas, and at this season the boats frequently sail hundreds of miles from home. During the months allotted to the winter fishing—say from November to the end of March—stormy weather prevents the more lengthy excursions, and the fishers

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192 From a) prosecute their search in the shallower waters surrounding the islands of the Archipelago. Curiously enough, in order to secure the sponges found around the island of Cyprus and off the coast of Asia Minor a different method—that of dredging—is employed. On SPONGE-FISHING IN FLORIDA—THE DIVER ABOUT TO DESCEND. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. [ Photograph. the Tunisian coast, whence several varieties of . useful sponges are now obtained, fishing is well- nigh impossible for some nine months of each year on account of the presence of huge masses of seaweed which obscure the bottom of the sea. The storms of November, however, serve the From a) A DIVER RETURNING WITH HIS CATCH.

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THE QUEST OF THE SPONGE. 193 useful” purpose of clearing this away, so that throughout the months of December, January, and February, whenever the weather permits, fishing becomes more active. During the summer months an inferior grade of sponge is obtained by the Arabs, who, wading in the ator waters, feel for the sponges with their feet! ~ When the sponge has been brought to the surface it is very quickly deprived of its outer skin. Were this precautionary measure not taken, ere the sponge animal died fermentation of the juice and putrefaction would set in, the outer membrane would become soft and flabby, and the malodorous juice ooze out at the very slightest pressure. ‘The sponge is therefore deprived of its organic part long before the method of securing the animal and its sub- sequent cleansing show a treatment entirely different to the customs obtaining in the Mediterranean. Dredging for sponges in the waters about the Bahamas is actually forbidden by a law framed for the protection of an industry in which some five hundred vessels, with an accompanying three thousand boats, manned by something like six thousand men and boys, are actively employed. This fleet has its head-quarters at Nassau, and the vessels present an unforgettable picture as they sail out to engage in the fishery. They are trimly-built schooners of yacht-like lines, varying in size from ten to fifty tons, and each has its train of boats. As the schooners, accompanied by the cloud of boats, creep out of the harbour, to From a) boats return to port, and the quality of the domestic article is improved thereby. It will be understood that of a necessity this preliminary process can be but crude, so it is supplemented by a careful bleaching process when the sponges are brought ashore. After this they are cleansed, dried, and finally graded for export. The many types and qualities represented in the sponge products of the Mediterranean make of this grading a very considerable business. Amongst the varieties are growths classified into the Bengazi, Gerbis, Greek, Mandroncha, and Tripoli groups. These again are divided into the Fine Turkeys, White Turkey Flats, Brown Turkeys, Cups, Solids, Flats, Zimocca, and the Elephant’s Ear. The very choicest of these varieties are included in the world’s best group —the Mollissima. In the sponge-fisheries of the New World the Vol. xx.—! THE ‘CRAWLS " IN WHICH THE SPONGES ARE KET TO CLEANSE THEM. (Photograph. scatter presently all over the fishing grounds, their occupation, to the casual observer, would appear an ideal one. Yet far indeed from the actual fact is this. In reality the labour is most arduous, frequently dangerous, and always revolting. Arrived at the fishing ground, each boat is manned by two persons—the man who does the actual fishing, and a boy to row the boat in any desired direction. To capture the sponges a long pole with a two or three pronged hook at the end is supplied to each boat, and the outfit is completed by the inclusion of a bucket with a glass bottom. Resting this improvised water-glass on the surface of the clear water, the sponge-fisher — from experience — peering through the glass, can distinctly recognise any sponges resting on the bottom of the ocean some twenty or thirty feet below. By means of

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194 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the hooked pole he detaches them from their hold and hauls them into the boat. The constant use of the water-glass, however, is frequently the cause of blindness to the user, owing to the reflected light. So through the long day does the fishing continue until nightfall, when the boats, laden with sponges, are picked Corlosia. The Florida coast also yields the Yellow, the Grass, the Sheep’s Wool, and the Velvet varieties. Sponge-fishing in the West Indies labours under serious disadvantages. owing to the pro- hibition of the diving apparatus, and the consequent inability of the searchers to reach the finer qualities of sponge, which are rarely found in the shallower waters where the coarser sponges are hooked. Still, it would be im- possible, save at excessive risk, to use such an appa- ratus, because frequently, and without warning, the coral reefs fall to well-nigh im- measurable depths. Again, no diving without apparatus can be indulged in toany From a) up by their respective schooners, who pile their catches upon the decks. Left so, the sponge animal dies in about twenty-four hours, and as the fishing cruise ordinarily lasts for a week, during which the pile receives daily additions from the boats, the stench of the decomposing carcasses can be better imagined than described. Her catch complete, each schooner makes for her “crawl,” as the enclosure staked out in shallow waters for the reception of the cargo is called. At each weekly visit the crew aid the action of the sea in getting rid of the dead skin and other organic tissues from the sponge skeletons by beating the mass with stakes, until all the impurities are removed. Undoubtedly this perfunctory after-treatment of the New World sponge compares somewhat unfavourably with the more careful method of the Mediter- ranean sponge-fishers. Taken from compara- tively shallow waters, the West Indian sponges are more easily procured, though of coarser qualities and cheaper in price than the Old World products. The rough treatment they receive whilst in the “crawls” frequently causes the depreciation in value. Amongst the varieties obtained from the waters above the Bahamas are included two Velvets—the Abaco and the Cay—the Yellow, the Grass, the Reef, the Glove, the Sheep’s Wool, the Hard Head, and the YREPARING FLORIDA SPONGES FOR SHIP! MENT. extent, because of the danger from the sharks which infest these waters and the not inconsiderable risk of an encounter with the dreaded octopus. Packed in bales, both the Mediterranean and West Indian sponges are dispatched to London for disposal in their own special market, where some half-dozen firms are privileged to tender in competition for the various consign- ments. Expert buyers all, it is astonishing how by a few rapid glances their representatives arrive at a fairly accurate estimate of the value of the bales as they are offered for sale. With the demand ever increasing, and the available supply—more especially of the finer qualities—undoubtedly suffering from the con- stant inroads made by the fishers, the price has shown a tendency to steadily rise year by year. Now, seeing the more or less remote possibility of a future scarcity in the supply, scientists have (Photograph. _been led to consider whether any practical means could be taken to more effectually make up the deficiency created by the systematic fishing of these animals. Probably the establishment of a close season would best assist Nature in her reproductive efforts, and make for the future permanence of so highly important and necessary an industry as sponge-fishing has become, but as yet nothing has been done in this direction.

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A BATTLE WITH BRIGANDS. By Davip FRANKLIN Morris. An American Government official’s account of a terrible single-handed fight with outlaws in Santo Domingo—one man against a score. Mr. Morris’s subsequent experiences at the hands of the native “doctors” were almost as exciting as his fight for life, and infinitely more trying. F all the so-called Latin American w% Republics, the most unfortunate, if not the least progressive, is Santo Domingo. ‘Occupying two-thirds of the island of Haiti and possessing climatic and other advantages unsurpassed in the Tropics, the Dominican Republic is sparsely populated and deplorably poor. Not one-sixth of the land, so well adapted to the production of sugar-cane, tobacco, and cacao, is ever culti- vated ; the magnificent forests of mahogany, lancewood, and lignum vite -are practically untouched ; all undeve- loped lie the valuable of the Secretary of War I was designated by the President of the United States to assist in collecting the Customs dues of the Dominican Republic. As “Jefe y Administrador” (Chief and Administrator) I was assigned to duty on the Haitian frontier. Now, to be a Chief and Administrator on the frontier was to occupy a position of more or less dangerous importance. _ I was “designated,” mark you, not nominated or appointed, by the President of the United States. I took no oath of office, and the fidelity bond given by me was “to whom it might con- cern.” The “commis- mineral deposits, and thereare notcattleenough to eat the grass that grows rank and high on the hills. Along the Haitian frontier the coffee decays unpicked; every year millions of ungathered guavas rot on the ground; and for cen- turies, in what might be one of earth’s most fruit- ful garden spots, next to nothing has been done in the way of industrial development. Only four days’ voyage by steamer from New York, Santo Domingo is said by its detractors to be four hundred years behind the times. If such deprecating descriptions are applicable to the sea- ports and principal city, what can be said of the conditions that exist in the “wild country” in the interior ? To this forsaken region duty called me some years ago, and there I met with the most thrilling adventure of my life. Under the then existing modus vivendi, on the recommendation THE AUTHOR, MR. D. F. MORRIS, WHOSE TERRIBLE EXYERI- ENCES, AFTER BEING SHOT AND LEFT FOR DEAD BY A BAND OF BRIGANDS, ARE HERE RELATED. From a Photo. by Sol. Young. sion” which I received from the Dominican Go- vernment was, at most, but an excuse for attempt- ing to perform the duties assigned me. At the time I was sent to the fron- tier the dwellers along the line, in the Monte Cristi district particularly, although nominatly Do- minicans, admitted scant, if-any, allegiance to the de facto Government of Santo Domingo. Granted that I was “Chief and Administra- tor” on the frontier, the people living there had their own opinion of the authority that might be vested in me. Such credentials as I had from the Customs Receiver- ship were looked upon with distrust and sus- picion, and I was re- garded as an undesirable intruder. Self-acclaimed Dominican patriots pro- tested that their country was “consecrated” to people of colour; they could not tolerate a white man in any official capacity. It was urged, too, that the Customs

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196 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Receivership was but a pretext for the annexa- tion of Santo Domingo to the United States. All these objections, however, were as nothing to the fact that my announced purpose was to ° suppress smuggling. Except for Government service, the laws of the Dominican Republic prohibit absolutely the importation of firearms and ammunition. In a land where revolutions are continually in pro- gress or being planned, it is necessary that the “insurrectos ” should be plentifully supplied with rifles and cartridges. After the Receiver- ship was established, the vigilance of the American Customs officials, plus the heavy penalties imposed upon vessels that were caught bringing in smuggled guns, practically put a stop to the illicit importation of munitions of war by sea. So the smugglers and revolutionists (it is hard to disassociate them) made every effort to run their war supplies across the Haitian line. Because my duties were supposed to be in part military, the stars of a major-general gleamed on my shoulder-straps, but a major- general in Santo Domingo is not a very great personage, and my rank, such as it was, did not procure for me much consideration ; it merely added to the prejudice that already existed in Monte Cristi and Dajabon, and daily the cheering information was conveyed to me that I should be shot. In every respect it is a rough country that lies along the Haitian frontier. ‘There are neither roads nor bridges; wheeled vehicles cannot be used, and such commerce as there is accommodates itself to the backs of burros (donkeys). Running east and west across the island are three ranges of mountains. In the depressions between these mountain ranges lie upland plains, and valleys of varying width. The largest of these more or less level places is the “‘ Llano de Enriquillo.” Though much smaller in area, in some of its aspects the Enriquillo desert is not unlike the weird “ Death Valley ” of California. Duty called me from Dajabon to a place called Tierra Nueva. To get there I must needs cross thé Llano de Enriquillo. At El Cercado, a squalid village a day’s journey from the northern edge of the desert, it was explained to me that the most practicable route was from Guanarat to Neyba. The “Commandante de Armas” of El Cercado procured for me a guide, a native of Tierra Nueva, who was reputed to be thoroughly familiar with all the trails that led through the desert. The guide was called Fidel, but subsequent events sufficiently proved his faithlessness. Inasmuch as I did not know just how much dependence could be placed upon the frontier guards in the service of the Receivership, and because the men recruited and instructed at Dajabon were really needed at that point, I was unaccompanied by any armed escort. From El Cercado southward my only companions were the guide and a servant. The latter was a young Dominican named Ramon Fortuna, who was first employed by me at Copey. I never had any reason to distrust him. On the night of October 18th, 1905, the three of us arrived at Guanarat. Here we found five huts and several suspicious-looking Dominicans. As we approached, it was evident that they eyed me with disfavour, but, for a price, the occupant of one of the houses consented to provide us with coffee and a few eatables. We slept out of doors, and at daybreak left Guanarat without regret and began our journey across the desert. By eight o’clock that morning we were in the midst of what might be called the “ bad lands ” of Santo Domingo. Following what the guide declared to be the best trail, I was deliberately led into an ambush. Near a little uplift of rock called “ El Yesu” we dismounted to rest. From this point, as far as the eye can see in every direction, stretches a desolate, stone-strewn, cactus-covered plain. The road, at best, was but a faint path winding around irregular rock heaps and through patches of cactus. It was a hot morning, and at the suggestion of the guide I halted, to give the sweat-covered mules a brief breathing spell. While we waited I proceeded to make some notes and a rough map of the trail we had traversed. I stood on the ground with my left arm slipped through the bridle-reins. The guide and my servant were in the rear of me, thirty or forty yards away. Busy with my sketching, I took no note of what they were doing. Suddenly, like a bolt out of a clear sky, came a volley. As nearly as I could tell the reports indicated that about fifteen rifles were fired at me. I was hit twice. One bullet (a forty-five- calibre brass-jacketed Remington) struck me in the left forearm, smashing the bones and tearing out the wrist tendons. The other, an old- fashioned fifty-four-calibre slug, entered my left side just above the diaphragm, and, after per- forating the lung, passed out at the back. Other bullets whizzed and sang uncomfortably close. Apparently my assailants were. on two sides of me. As the rifles cracked the scared mule made a jump, and even though I had tried to do so I could not have held the reins with my shattered arm. The jerk that the mule gave me in getting away, combined with the shock received from the two bullets, threw me

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A BATTLE WITH BRIGANDS. 197 so that I fell on my knee. In my belt was a Colt’s automatic revolver, and in my coat pockets were five clips, each containing eight cartridges. Almost instinctively, as I lurched forward, I drew my weapon, and looked [i around to see from which direction the bullets came. _ For perhaps half a minute I looked without _ perceiving anyone, and I called out to my servant and to the guide to “secure the mule,” which was running, as I thought, towards them. I was anxious that they should get the mule because in a “boot” attached to my saddle was an excellent Winchester repeating carbine. I therefore shouted to Ramon and Fidel toget therifle. The enly response I heard was a faint answer which indi- cated that they were “afraid.” Staggering to my . feet, I faced a second fusillade. This time I could see, quite near me, the rifles flash in the bushes. One fellow, from his hid- ing- place, put a bullet through my shoulder. The sen- sation was that of being struck hard with a red- hot hammer. It jarred me considerably, but I took a shot at him, and he toppled over. Up to this time I had hardly even glanced at my wounds. My left arm hung helpless ; from my side and shoulder the blood poured in a red stream. But my previous experience in the Philippines stood me in good stead, and I did not lose my head. Thinking that my wounds must inevitably be fatal, I resolved to die fighting. So, instead of falling down or attempting to obtain shelter, I started for my adversaries. As I rushed to where I judged they were hiding I caught sight of one skipping from behind a tussock of cactus. I saw his leg, and “SUDDENLY, LIKE A bULI UUT UF A CLEAR SKY, CAME A VOLLEY.” let drive at that. The yell that he gave is the only information I have that he was hit. Two others jumped up and took hasty shots at me. Both missed, but the ‘‘automatic” in my hands was more certain— the man nearest me dropped in histracks, his associate escaped with an injured arm. In front of me and to the right I saw about ten more of the fellows — evil- looking rascals all. ‘The rapid action of the Colt’s ‘“auto- matic” affrighted them, and their firing grew erratic in the extreme. When my pistol was emptied I pushed in a fresh clip as quickly as I could with one hand and continued firing. All the while J was going forward, but steadily getting weaker. The eight cartridges contained in the second clip were discharged in a few seconds. Again I reloaded my pistol and kept on shoot- ing, although I was unable to aim very accurately, for every- thing was getting black before my eyes. Reloading my gun for the third time tasked my rapidly failing strength, but just as I realized that I could do but little more I was stirred to renewed cndeavour by the sight of my enemies running away. To accelerate their departure I swung my pistol so as to cover, in a way, the line of their retreat, and pulled the trigger eight times without taking any particular aim. That settled it—they fled on the run. Though my eyes were dimmed, as I thought then, with the darkness of death, I saw them vanish. Even while searching my pocket for a fourth clip of cartridges I slipped and sprawled on the earth, unconscious. How long it was before I “came to” I cannot tell. It may have been a minute or a

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198 THE WIDE WORLD quarter of an hour. Anyway, I opened my eyes again and looked around to see if anyone with a shooting-iron was in sight. All was silent, and I saw no one. I observed one curious thing, however—while only partially conscious I had reloaded my pistol. Then, for the first time, I looked to see how badly I had been wounded. While fighting I scarcely felt any pain, but now I became conscious that I was severely injured. All that I had, except the pistol and some cartridges, were a lead-pencil and two handkerchiefs. With the lead-pencil I explored the hole in my chest, thrusting it in and probing. The air-bubbles told me that my lung was pierced. I therefore pushed both handkerchiefs into the cavity made by the bullet and passed to my other wounds. Torn out and hanging outside my left wrist was a tendon about eight inches long. I tied this around the arm above the wound and with my teeth drew it as tightly as I could. *The wound in my left shoulder was more difficult to deal with ; the bullet, a big one, had not only shattered the shoulder-blade, but had passed through the joint of the shoulder and splintered the bone of the upper arm. With some strips torn from my shirt I bound it up after a fashion, but with one hand no satisfactory bandage could be secured. Luckily for me this wound was not inclined to bleed so much as the others, but it took me a long time to bandage myself. When this was finally done I determined, ere my wounds grew stiff, to try to ascertain what had become of Ramon and Fidel. I therefore staggered to my feet and retraced my steps to” the spot where I was shot, hoping I might find Ramon and the guide and get them to help me. I went back about forty yards, but all that I found was Ramon Fortuna’s hat lying in the road. Growing weak and faint from the exertion of walking, I was about to lie down again, when I saw, coming around a bend in the trail, three native women, each leading a burro. I called to the women, asking them to help me bind up my wounds and let me ride one of the burros to Neyba, offering to pay them well for their services. As I stood there beside the road I must have presented a horrible appearance. I was covered with blood from head to foot, with more blood continually oozing out of the three wounds, and I had the pistol in my hand. No wonder the women were afraid to come near me! ‘They hurried on, by a circuitous route, without stopping, and I begged them, when they arrived in Neyba, to tell the “Com- mandante de Armas” there that an American, out on the road, was shot and in urgent need of assistance. They hastened past without a word. MAGAZINE. Exhausted by my exhortation in halting Spanish, and depressed by their desertion, I collapsed in a faint. After’ resting a little I regained consciousness, and, though I had hardly any strength left, something urged me to get up and go on. I had not gone twenty yards before I found the corpse of poor Ramon Fortuna! He had been shot down while running away, and after he fell his murderers had made their crime more hideous by standing immediately over him and discharging their rifles into his body as he lay mortally wounded and helpless. : As I dragged myself away from the corpse of the murdered peun I tried to consider the situation. It seemed as though the best thing I could do would be to hide myself immediately in the thick cactus beside the trail. There I should be sheltered somewhat from the heat, and —what was more important—I should be screened from observation in case I was further sought for. Also, if any honest people hap- pened to come along, I might be able to obtain help and transportation, either to Neyba or to Cabeza de Toro. Slowly and painfully I crawled under a tri- angular clump of cactus that grew near the trail, and there I lay all that day and night. As my wounds cooled and stiffened I suffered exquisite torture. Racked with pain I could not sleep. All the time, too, I had to be on the alert to guard against the return of the enemy. Save while I was readjusting the bandages my pistol never left my hand. Shortly after daylight on the morning of the zoth, from my place of concealment by the roadside, I saw twelve horsemen, all armed with Remington rifles, coming down the trail towards: Guanarat. Five of the band halted not far from where I lay; the others waited a little farther up the road. From their conversation, which was in Spanish, I inferred that they were the ruffians implicated in the attack on me. “The corpse of the American must be some- where near here,” said one, drawing rein. “ Are you sure he is dead ?” observed another. “Certainly,” returned the first man; “I shot him through the heart.” “Tt is possible.” “But that devil of a revolver the American had,” put in a third man. ‘We ought to get that.” “You were not so anxious to get it yester- day,” mocked the first speaker. ‘Juan tells me you ran away like a wild deer.” “T avoided the devil, it is true,” protested his comrade, “but of a surety I am as brave as you.” : Their remarks continued in this strain fora

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A BATTLE WITH BRIGANDS. 199 Minute or two; then, at the command of one who seemed to be their captain, the horsemen moved on towards Guanarat. While they were talking I had my “automatic” pointed squarely at the head of the scoundrel who spoke first. I could have killed him then and there, and perhaps one or two more. I was sorely tempted to do so, but I am thankful now that I refrained from shooting. I was undiscovered, and so long as I kept still there was at least a slim chance of my emerging from the adventure alive. Had I fired a shot, the band would undoubtedly have ended me, even though I succeeded in killing two or three of them first. From something that was said as they de parted I gained the impression that my assail- ants had a camp of some sort in the vicinity of Guanarat, but of this I am not sure. For three days, without food or water, I lay there helpless under the cactus, increasing thirst adding to the torture of my wounds. Each hour that went by multiplied my agony. At night swarms of fierce gnats annoyed me, while in the daytime I was tormented by millions of flits. On the fourth morning after the fight, it is almost impossible to describe my condition. The gruesomeness of the death I seemed doomed to die was made more aggravating by Pe ae rae the appearance on the sce.1e of six or seven hideous vultures. Occasionally they would fly not very high o: 2raead, looking down at me inquiringly. Th.n they would settle -on the desert again, nea by, to wait the opportunit, that was surely coming. The proximity and suggestive attitudes o: those horrible birds drove me almost frantic. I hated to look at them, but I could not close my eyes or turn the other way. Seriously I debated whether I should employ the pistol on the vultures or myself. I was not delirious, but when I heard the sound of hoof-beats coming steadily nearer I was afraid my ears were deceiving me. I strained my eyes to see, and in a tumult of hope and fear propped myself up on my elbow and looked in the direction whence the sound seemed to emanate. Presently ‘about thirty men, all armed and mounted, came in view. Uncertain at first whether they were friends or enemies, I hardly knew what to do. But my situation was so desperate I needs must take chances, so, keeping out of sight, ready to shoot if the new- comers meant to fight, I called out to the horse- men as they approached. My cry did not seem to attract attention, so I yelled again, louder this time: “ Halloa! Help!” Immediately one man in the crowd exclaimed excitedly, in broken English, “Oh, it’s Mr. ““KEEYING OUT OF SIGHT, READY TO SHOOT IF THE NEW-COMERS MEANT TO FIGHT, 1 CALLRD OUT TO THE HORSEMEN.”

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200 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Morris!” and the entire band drew rein. Then I knew them to be friends looking for me. It was the “Commandante de Armas” of Neyba, with a-search-party. I was given a drink of rum, placed on a mule, and carried across the desert sixteen miles to Cambronal. There, after an unavoidable delay, a bed, some chicken soup, anda “curista” were procured. The “curista” was a Dominican backwoods practitioner. He was a man of no education, ignorant alike of the principles of medicine and surgery. The natives regarded him with superstitious interest because he pro- fessed to be able to effect marvellous cures. Instead of washing or dressing my wounds he sought to carry out some ideas of his own. His only surgical instrument was a probe made out of a piece of telegraph wire. With this horrible instrument he poked and pried around in my shoulder until I thought my entire anatomy would be torn apart. Then, though I urged him to wash out the wounds with warm water and salt (there was nothing else obtainable in Cambronal), he said anything like that would be very dangerous. Toasting some green cactus pith over a fire, he whittled pieces of this pith into plugs and forced these into the openings of the three wounds. Over the plugs he smeared a bit of mutton tallow, and told me to “rest easy,” as “ every- thing possible was already done.” : I “rested” in Cambronal that night and part of the next day. While I was suffering the tender mercies of the “curista” in Cambronal, it chanced that news of the fight at El Yesu, in the form of an unverified rumour, reached Barahona, ninety miles away. It also happened, providentially for me, that Deputy-Controller-General J. H. Edwards arrived in Barahona almost at the identical minute that the tidings did. On the wharf he encountered the Governor of the district. To Mr. Edwards the Governor repeated the rumour that had just reached his ears. “I am told,” he said, “ although [ cannot say what truth there is in the story, that the American official was ambushed at El Yesu several days ago. It is uncertain whether he was killed or badly wounded. The reports that I have received are scanty and conflicting.” Always apprehensive of trouble on the frontier, Mr. Edwards sought, by shrewd and diligent questioning, to ascertain more accu- rately what had happened. But he was unable to elicit any additional information. He then asked the Governor what action had been taken. “In the event of the American being badly wounded, is it possible to obtain a doctor or medicines anywhere near E] Yesu?” “No,” said the Governor; ‘neither surgeon nor drugs are procurable nearer than Barahona. When the residents of the border get hurt, they either die or cure themselves.” Thus apprised of my plight, if I were wounded and yet alive, Mr. Edwards lost no time. Demanding of the Governor that a mounted escort to Neyba should be provided for him immediately, he next requisitioned the services of a “medico,” the best obtainable in Barahona, a Cuban named Gonzales. ‘ Doctor ” Gonzales was not a regular graduate of medicine, but he had been a hospital steward in the Spanish army in Havana in the time of Weyler. He was the possessor of several surgical instruments and had treated successfully, so he said, numerous gun-shot wounds. At the only “botica ” (apothecary’s shop) in Barahona, Mr. Edwards quickly purchased nearly all the bandages, surgical gauze, and antiseptics in stock. These, with a few other supplies, were packed ina pair of saddle-bags. The escort, accelerated by the Governor's orders, appeared, and away went Edwards, Gonzales, and the soldiers up the rough road. Over the’ hills, down through the canyons, out on the level, and across the Salinas desert they rode hard all: that night. Edwards was more than once impor- tuned to stop and rest, but he pushed steadily on. At nine in the morning they arrived in Neyba. There Edwards obtained news. “ The wounded Americano was now in Cambronal,” the -people told him. ‘Yes, Cambronal was no fit place for a sick man, but have patience ; the relief party will certainly fetch him into Neyba this afternoon.” Edwards was unsatisfied with this assurance. Despite the fact that he had already ridden fifty-four miles, he ordered a fresh horse, secured another escort, and set out for Cambronal. For some distance the trail from Neyba to Cambronal ‘leads through the woods, and then out on the desert again. I was carried in a hammock, eighteen miles, from Cambronal to Neyba. At the edge of the woods I met - Edwards. In Neyba I occupied a thatched house with a dirt floor and little or no furniture. Into the house to see my wounds dressed crowded nearly _ every inhabitant of Neyba. Their curiosity was insatiable, and neither the doctor nor anyone else could keep them out. As the doctor proceeded to cut and scrape, to probe and dig in my wounds, the curious spectators, perched in the windows and crowded against the walls of the house, waited in eager expectancy for the American to make an outcry. Under those circumstances the American shut his teeth determinedly and let no sound escape his lips.

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A BATTLE WITH BRIGANDS. 201 The Dominicans could not understand it, but finally one wiseacre suggested an explanation. “The colour of his skin accounts for it,” he said. “He is white—doubtless white men are not so sensitive to pain as we are.” Dr. Gonzales dressed the wounds twice, and then another surgeon appeared on the scene. He was a Dominican, and was said to have received a medical education in Paris. Haughtily waving Gonzales aside as an unqualified prac- titioner with whom he could not consult professionally, the Dominican M.D. proceeded Dominican who was supposed to be a sort of assistant nurse, I asked for my pistol. The pistol was fetched as a matter of course by the obliging, if unintelligent, servant. The doctor returned with a smile ‘that was meant to be sympathetic on his face, and the syringe con- cealed in his hand. I could scarcely lift the pistol, but the threat to use it sufficed. I told the astonished medico plainly, quoting his own words, that if “dying easy ” was the object, he could attain it as well as I. Even in my weak hands the “Colt” was “RVEN IN MY WEAK HANDS THE ‘CULT’ WAS QUI1K AS DEADLY AS THE HYPODERMIC IN HIS.” to diagnose. In his opinion there was no hope for the patient. Said he, speaking in Spanish and rather low (yet the victim in the bed heard and understood), “ There is but one thing to do. There is no necessity for letting him suffer ; he is sure to die. I will administer sufficient morphia to make his passing away comparatively painless |” While the doctor retired, to procure from his medicine-case morphine and a_ hypodermic needle, my mind was not inactive. Calling a Vol. xx.—26. quite as deadly as the hypodermic in his. Almost immediately we arrived at an under- standing, and very gracefully, under the circumstances, the doctor retired from the case. On the third day of my sojourn in Neyba, piloted by Edwards the indefatigable, Surgeon R. S. Heiner, of the U.S. Navy, arrived, after an all-night ride from Barahona. He had missed the trail in the darkness, and wandered in the desert until daylight. He reached me, seemingly, when I was in the last extremity.

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202 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. As he observed how the reverse of aseptic and sanitary were my surroundings when he examined the wounds, and noted that my temperature was above one hundred and four degrees, he shook his head as though he despaired of my recovery. “Frankly,” said he, “the chances are more than a hundred to one against you.” But his coming had given me renewed hope, and I responded faintly that “long shots win, some- times.” Undoubtedly I owe my life to the skill and care of Dr. Heiner. In three days he got the wounds in better shape and reduced the fever somewhat. Then, deciding that the dis- advantages of my remaining in Neyba more than outweighed the danger of moving me, he arranged to have me taken to Santo Domingo. To Barahona I must be borne on a stretcher. utmost efforts of the caniers, and as we went along the mountain side in the darkness the stretcher was jerked and twisted and tipped up and down. Two or three times I was nearly thrown out. To supplement their impaired vigour the carriers secretly had recourse to rum ; one relay was quite tipsy. Crossing a ford the four men quarrelled, and would have fought if Edwards and the doctor had not interfered. I got a nice shaking up, and narrowly escaped being dropped into the river. About one o’clock in the morning, after being on the road over eighteen hours, we got into Barahona. I tarried in Barahona two days, then the gun- boat Jndependencia took me to Santo Domingo. On my arrival in the capital I was carried to the residence of the Controller-General, a portion of THB U.S. SS. “SCORPION,” THE WARSHIP FROM WHICH SURGEON HEINER WAS SENT TO NEYBA TO LOUK AFTER From a) Twenty men, in relays of four, were secured to carry me. The first stage of the journey was across the Salinas desert. We were scheduled to start before sunrise, but did not get away until later. Under ordinary circumstances, to cross the salt desert in the blistering sun is no pleasant undertaking, and it was no pleasure trip for me. Each shake of the stretcher, every step that my bearers took, caused me excruciating pain. At the commencement of the march the bearers walked carefully. Later in the day, after we were off the desert and up in the mountains, it rained hard. In places the path was steep and very slippery. To transport me at all required the THE AUTHOR, (Photo, the house being converted into a hospital for my benefit. For weeks it was a toss-up whether I would live or die, but, thanks ‘to Surgeon Heiner and the kind attention I constantly received, together with a naturally strong con- stitution, I eventually pulled through. In two months I was able to leave Santo Domingo and return to the United States. My left arm is practically useless, yet, consider- ing all that happened, I cannot complain. The aching of the old wounds often reminds me how lucky I was to escape death either at the hands of those murderous bandits on the Dominican desert or from the attentions of my native physicians.

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THE WIDE WORLD: In Other Magazines. A TRAGEDY OF THE ‘ O* the 7th of May I was bound across the Bay of Biscay for St. Nazaire in a steamer. At eight a.m. we sighted some smoke as from a vessel on fire. We put on all possible speed and gradually made out that the smoke came from a vessel on fire. We got right up to her a few ininutes before noon and found that there was nobody alive on board. We stopped by her until noon, when she threw up her stern and went down head first. The benzine with which she was loaded continued to burn as it rose to the surface. Her name was the Sttverlip, belonging to Messrs. Samuel and Co., of London. We found out afterwards that she took fire on May Ist, when all the crew left and were picked up an hour or so afterwards by the ss. Westgate. The photograph was taken just before she disappeared. —‘*THE STRAND MAGAZINE.” ENGLISH COLOURING. Oo"; thing which strikes the foreign or Colonial or Transatlantic visitor to England is the fresh and dainty beauty of the English girl’s colouring. English- women, when decrying the uncertain qualities of our- climate, should bear in mind that it is to this very atmosphere they owe their greatest charm—a good com- plexion. On all sides one Meats admiring comments on the subject, and assuredly the feminine inhabitants of the British Isles bear off the palm for soft and lovely colour- ing. It must be conceded that American girls are always unstinted in their praise of a beautiful complexion.— “*WOMAN’S LIFE.” . WHAT NEXT? VERYBODY knows one or more of those con- scientious egotists who cannot rid themselves of the idea that no one can be trusted to carry out the simplest details of routine work without their personal supervision. It was one of these men who sailed for America, leaving in his brother's care a parrot of which he was very fond. All the way across the Atlantic he worried about the bird, and no sooner had he landed at New York than he sent over this cablegram to his brother: ‘‘ Be sure and feed parrot.” And the brother cabled back : ‘Have fed him, but he’s hungry again. What shall I do next? ”—‘‘ TIT-BiTs.” THE SIMPLE LIFE. 4 Rare only people I ever heard of who carried out the simple life with any measure of success were an enterprising couple who did it not from any inherent love of simplicity, but in order to escape from their creditors. Having chartered a flat-bottomed barge on the Thames, they sailed across to France, where, on the various canals, they led an irresponsible and unsophisticated existence for many months, returning when time had healed the memory of their bankruptcy to the scene of their former triumphs. —‘‘ THE LADIES’ FIELD.” PAST RACES IN NORTH AMERICA, N North America the evidences of past races, now untraceable in the mists of time, unnamable, are many and eloquent enough. There are six acres of mounds in Mississippi, in Missouri enclosures of six hundred acres, and in Ohio ten thousand tumuli; and on many of these are heavy and dense forest growths, from which trees—by no means of the first generation—have been cut down with as many as eight hundred annual rings. The geographical centre of South America was then—at that time—Peru. And it is pretty clear that the Peruvian civilization was earlier than that of Mexico. —‘‘C. B. FRY’S MAGAZINE.” THE FIGHTING GOOSE OF RUSSIA. N_ Russia cockpits are unknown, but ‘ goosepits” some sixty years ago were common throughout that mighty kingdom. The effect of this can be seen to this day in the geese which are indigenous to the country, the Arsamas and the Tula varieties particularly showing to a marked degree the fighting characters of their ancestors. As will be noticed from the accompanying illustration of an Arsamas gander, the most remarkable feature is the bill, which is entirely different in form from that of the + geese known in any other part of the world. This special structure enables the bird to take a firm grip of the neck or back of its antagonist.—‘‘ COUNTRY LIFE.”

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A Terrible Penance—How They Move in Canada—A Monster Crocodile, etc., etc. Our first photograph—taken at Gem Lake, near Mount Abu, India — depicts an extra- ordinary act of self-torture. The man seen sitting between the four fires has lived for thirty years in a cave to the right, and for ten years out of the thirty he has been performing his remarkable penance in fulfilment of some vow. Briefly stated, his self-inflicted punishment consists in sitting, well-nigh naked, between four fierce fires, with the noonday sun glaring down upon his bare flesh! The sun’s rays alone are hot enough to well-nigh roast the average European, but the addition of the fires makes the hermit’s position a veritable inferno. ‘They are fed with dried cow- dung—the local fuel —and the _photo- grapher testifies that their heat was so intense that he could hardly hold his hand between the man and one of the fires. In addition to his fiery ordeal, the hermit is under a vow of silence ; for close on ten years he has spoken “"Fyom a Photo. by] to no one. This extraordinary devotee lives on the scanty food provided by the alms of pious Hindu visitors, who consider it a religious duty to make some trifling offering. We have dealt before with locusts and the A TERRIBLE PENANCE—FOR TEN YEARS, IN FULFILMENT OF A VOW, THE HERMIT HERE SHOWN HAS EXPOSED HIMSEL® DAILY TO THE FULL GLARE OF THE INDIAN SUN, SUPPLEMENTED BY THE HEAT OF FOUR FIRES! (Underwood & Underwood. : |

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ODDS AND ENDS. 205 ‘A SWARM OF LOCUSTS DESCENDING UPON ROODEKOP STATION, IN THE TRANSVAAL—THEY PRACTICALLY CLEARED THE DISTRICT From a) terrible havoc they create. The unique photo- graph above reproduced was taken at Roodekop Station, in the Transvaal, on March rgth, 1907. The black cloud seen in the sky is composed entirely of locusts. ‘They practically cleared the district,” writes the - correspondent who took the pic- ture. “In some places not even a blade of grass was left.” The next picture shows how people move in Canada ; they take the entire house, and do not trouble even to move the furniture. The houses being chiefly of the frame variety are easily lifted. with jacks and placed upon rollers. Then, with a team of horses or a traction engine in front, they'are hauled for miles to the new location. Inthecase = From a] OF EVERY VESTIGE OF VEGETATION. BY AN ENGINE OR A TEAM OF HORSES TO THEIR KEW LOCATION, (Photograph. illustrated two houses were moved in one block, the furniture being left in place in the rooms. As may be imagined, a moving house with its attend- ant engine is not a very pleasant obstacle to meet in a dark lane at night with a restive horse. HOW THEY MOVE IN CANADA—THE HOUSFS ARE LIFTED WITH JACKS, PLACED ON ROLLERS, AND HAU!LED (Photograph.

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206 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. i : ae : —"s1 a native whose business took him or : d her to the lake breathed easier when a bullet put an end to the monster's san- guinary career. The structure seen at the top of the next page is the “calaboose,” or village lock-up, of the town of Williams, Colusa County, California. The inscription on the wall reads: “Drink ’49 Bourbon and here’s where you land.” It is scarcely necessary to add that “Bourbon” is corn whisky, and “’49” refers to the golden days of A CpeGGorry'’sS HUP” STABLE IN THK SHEL LANDS, MADE OUT OF AN OLD BOAT. From a Photograph. Readers of “ David Copperfield” will remember the “superannuated boat” which served as a home for Peggotty and his family, but it is not often in real life that one meets with a fishing craft devoted to the purpose described below and depicted in the foregoing photograph. High up on one of the bleak hillsides which overlook the harbour of Scalloway, in the remote Shetland Isles, there is to be seen, resting on the ground keel uppermost, what was once a large fishing-boat, but which now serves as a stable for the Shetland ponies which graze on the scanty grass of the exposed uplands. A door has been neatly cut out, and there is ample room inside for quite a number of the animals, while light and ventilation have been ingeniously attended to, as will be scen by inspection of the structure on top. One wonders how it was found possible, in this primitive place, to haul the heavy boat up the steep hillside to its last resting-place, and at the clever way in which the Shetlanders have adapted the craft to its present useful purpose instead of leaving it to decay on the shore. The photograph next _repro- duced shows one of the largest crocodiles ever killed in the Victoria Nyanza. The brute was OME OF THE LARGEST MAN-BATING CKOCODILES EVER KILLED IN THE VICTORIA a man-eater, and no doubt many "From a lhote byl RVANZA. [Otto Haeckel.

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California’s history. The legend sounds like a warning against the evils of unlimited indulgence in drink, but it isn’t; it’s an advertisement! A night’s lodging in jail as a result of in- dulgence might not seem very attractive to the ordinary man, but to the festive miner or ranch hand bent on “painting the town red” it is evidently an inducement, otherwise the enterprising can- vasser for this particu- lar brand would not have painted the notice where he did. This queer advertisement also figures on the jail pump—possibly as a reminder to the thirsty toper the ‘‘ morning after.” | wet % ODDS AND ENDS. A CURIOUS ADVERTISEMENT FOR A BRAND OF WHISKY. From a Photograph. 207 The negroes of the United States are usually intensely religi- ous, and they dearly love the ceremonial features of worship. Baptism is a rite that is particularly attractive to:them, and always draws a deeply- interested crowd. ‘The following picture shows a baptism in the Mississippi River at St. Louis, Missouri, U.S.A. The “sister” who is about to be baptized is resisting stoutly, while several dusky “brothers” lead her out to wherethe minister stands, waist- deep in the water, ready to immerse her. Several thousand negroes and whites stood on the shore and watched, forty converts being immersed one forenoon. A NEGRO PUBLIC BAPTISM IN THR MISSISSIPPI RIVER. (Photograph.

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208 . The illustration next reproduced shows a travelling “lady photographer” who made hundreds of dollars in an isolated section of Wyoming called Cabin” country, by taking photographs of cowboys and_ sheep- herders who had never had their _ portraits taken before. They rode for sixty and seventy-five miles through waterless alkali deserts, and paid her any price she asked for the privilege of being _ photographed. So pleased were these children of Nature with her snap - shots that she even sold a box of sample pic- tures, of persons he had never seen, to a the “Lost . THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. pets Ee | A TRAVELLING ‘LADY PI TRIP THROUGH TH From a Photograph. WHO MADE A PLUCKY Ss * OF WYOMING. cowboy, who sent them “back East” as a present to some relatives! The lady artist covered several hundred miles in a prairie schooner drawn by two old white, horses, crossing moun- tain ranges and alkali deserts and fording rivers. She even penetrated into the stronghold of the “bad men”—the “Hole in the Wall” country, making friends and dollars wherever she went. She took pictures by day and sawed out negro melodies on an old violin at night to entranced crowds of cowboys and sheep- herders, who never thought of ridiculing her or offering her insult. ‘ i * yp ATE Mountain > ° fOr THE Beis P The VENGEANCE oF Mrs. KELLERT, al “A BATTLE BRIGANDS NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURE IN THIS NUMBER. ae) ii ANapsier Loaéadile cg " — =, sna? BS i Xe a j ARemintANce YOM “eWire Marasourty yrs Dry | MAN fP oy z AMONG ARABS 2 e os Z tae 2 t ‘The SuiRt ae Ye pm oF DEATH NoTMuRpeRED (47,57 ‘THRous THE HEART eet a re OF SHIM ni z ae 1 By ae ie FIGHTING THE LANegra A. QUEST oF THE ; MounTAIn Lion Baptism HAS Ly tec <p / «Te Wone ke 3 ri ANTravelling*+ w ty NY Y ny 7? 5 “Lady Photagrapher"/. 5 Ho &, che ROMANCE OF \// WEATHER-PLANT }—~, ep af boots : Fe ‘THE NAMELESS eer Sport ix CENTRAL AFRICA ISLAND THR MAP-CONTENTS OF “THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE,” WHICH SHOWS AT A GLANCE THE LOCALITY OF ZACH ARTICLE AND

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} eo ee ee eon a Te * eae Se eT eet oN EY Pe

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“THE MADDENED BEAST HAD JUMPED LITERALLY OVER OUR TIEADS.” (SEE PAGE 213.)

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THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XX. JANUARY, 1908. No. 117, An Unsuccessful Round-Up. Totp By ExiyaH SHAW AND Set Down By N. DE BERTRAND LuGRIN. How two men set out to round-up strayed cattle, and how misfortune befell them. The narrative shows that it is just as well to be prepared for every emergency when one goes into the wilderness. wy — HILE the White Pass Railway was Ye | Skagway and VE building between Ms White Horse, over fifteen hundred 4) men were employed in the under- ™ taking. My brother and I had been given the contract to supply beef to the whole concern, and we stiipped cattle up by the car- load, sometimes receiving as many as a hundred and fifty head at a time. For the first few months our head-quarters were at Skagway, but as the railway progressed we had to follow it up, until, when at length we reached Bennett, we had three slaughter-houses along the line. We remained at Bennett all the summer, as the engineers had a long and arduous piece of work before them in trying to make a new bottom for Lost Lake, which body of water, if removed, would save a good many miles and a good many thousands of dollars. It was while at Bennett that my brother and I had several experiences with maddened cattle, which experiences are interesting enough to look back upon, though I don’t know that I should particularly care to repeat them. The steers had to be driven from Skagway to Bennett, a distance of forty miles, which, of course, is no journey at all ordinarily, given a fair trail and decent weather. But when the road winds over mountains whose tops are eternally snow-covered, by paths along the edge of precipices, by ledges that jut out from the side of a hill and hang over an abyss whose bottom is lost in shadow, it is a different matter. Sometimes the cattle were forced to ford rivers, and scale cliffs that gave way under them at every step ; there was no rest day or night until the journey was over, and the weather might be anything from a mild, misty day to one of fierce hurricanes and blinding snowstorms. It is no wonder under such circumstances that the poor beasts become rather unmanageable at times. One day—a fine, clear day, too, with a brisk breeze ruffling the blue bosom of the lake—a couple of my men rode into camp with about a score of steers. They explained, in answer to my hasty questionings, that the rest of the bunch, fifty odd, had got away. Vol. xx.—27. “Got clean away,” they said; “the bull among them, their hoofs worn down to the quick, and some of ’em stark mad.” Here was a pretty state of things. We needed those steers badly. The last shipment of dressed beef had not arrived in goud condi- tion, and there were fifteen hundred hungry men scattered along that railway waiting for meat. My brother and I decided to go out after the cattle at once, and, if possible, drive some of them back to camp. I had my little sorrel mare Patsy, and Ran, my brother, hired a horse from Dickson, the saloon-man. This latter horse was no good ; it had not as much sense as a Yukon hen, but Dickson valued it at three hundred dollars, as he took pains to inform us. Ski, the butcher’s dog, followed us up. The butcher had just received him from the “outside” “A fine cattle dog,” he asstired us; “he'll round up the steers in splendid shape.” So, nothing loath, we took the animal with us. We cantered along by the shore of the lake for a mile or more, seeing nothing of the animals ; then we swung round to the left and branched out, Ran climbing a hill ahead and I skirting around the base. Almost simultaneously we saw the cattle in front, standing breast high in the brush of the valley. Here was an easy job. We would gallop quickly along the foot of the mountain until we had passed the cattle ; then, swinging in, we would cut them off from the hills and head them down to the lake. Once on the trail we could soon drive them to the corrals. I called up to Ran, explaining things, and he rode down and joined me. Meanwhile Ski, the dog, began to bark sharply ; he had just caught sight of the steers. Without waiting for a word of command, he dashed off, paying no attention to our angry shouts. In a very few minutes he was in among the cattle, barking, biting, snarling, until he had the whole frightened herd running in different directions. I was pretty mad, for now we should have a terrible job to round-up the beasts, but Ran was

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212 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. madder. When Ski came back, thoroughly pleased with himself, my brother shot him dead. After that, leaving Ran to take the road, I cut across the valley, making for the hills on the other side, whither most of the cattle had gone. Ran would join me when he had made the ascent. In this way we would try and head off the cattle, turning them back again into the valley. The country was rough, full of holes, boulders, and fallen trees, but Patsy was a game little mare, and as keen upon the scent of the steersasI. We were nearly an hour reaching the hills, how- ever, and by that time the cattle had disap- peared among the tall timber. It was May and the sun was warm in the valley, but as we began the ascent the air grew chilly. We should not have to travel far to reach the snow- line,and I knew the cattle would not pass the low slopes where the early spring grass, pale -green and tender, was just showing in patches where the snow had melted. On a small plateau, near a waterfall, I encountered the first lot—three or four of them, grazing away con- tentedly. Patsy cleared the ground quickly, jumping every obstacle until we had circled round them; then, cracking my whip, I rode down upon the startled animals. As I hoped they would, they ran with all speed down the hill towards the valley, where, as the grazing was good, they were pretty certain to remain, unless disturbed. Congratulating myself, I left the plateau, “HIS BIG BODY WAS SILNUURTTRD AGAINST THE BRIGHT BLUE OF THE SKY.” crossing the waterfall at a fairly level spot where it ran over a bed of stones, though I got a good wetting just the same, and lost my hat into the bargain. I must have travelled a couple of miles or more when in the distance I heard a bellowing that grew louder as I rode along. The timber, which had been pretty thick around us, suddenly ceased, and we came out upon a swampy bit of land covered with blue- berry bushes. There must have been ten or more head of cattle scat- tered about here and there, and over against the sky-line, on a grassy knoll, stood the old bull himself. We had had him shipped, not to kill, but in order to keep the cattle to- gether. If I could run him out of the hills and down into the open, I told myself, the rest would follow readily. They were sO scat- tered as it was that it would be difficult for me to round them up alone. I started across the swamp lei- surely, my eye on the bull, whose big body was silhouetted against the bright blue of the sky. Patsy pulled on the rein and snorted a little. The bull was “evidently watching me, and as I drew near he lowered

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AN UNSUCCESSFUL ROUND-UP. ; 213 his head a tritte. gingerly. “What's the matter, old girl?” I said, patting her neck encouragingly. I had never known her to show fear of anything before, and I had ridden her among the cattle scores of times. Suddenly the bull pawed the ground in front of him, and once more his angry roar broke the intense stillness of the hills. I sent a quick ‘glance about me. Thick timber on all sides except straight ahead. A mile beyond, over a fairly level bit of country that ended in a long cliff, some twenty feet high, lay Bear Lake, a deep body of water a quarter of a mile wide. It was on the other side of this lake that I expected to meet Ran. The steers in the blueberry swamp seemed very uneasy; some of them were lowing dis- mally and moving about aimlessly. They were very much emaciated, and their eyes were blood- shot. As we moved along, one old fellow, with a hoarse bellow, ran past and beyond me towards the timber. For a minute I hesitated, afraid that the others would follow, but they paid no attention seemingly, so I kept on towards my friend on the knoll, who did not seem at all inclined to give me a pleasant welcome. Once again his fierce roar half startled me and frightened Patsy so that she reared, with a nervous snort. I pulled her to the right in order to get round behind the animal, but as I turned he turned too, and suddenly, lowering his head, he charged down upon us. We faced him, and when he was within five feet of us Patsy sprang to the left. The bull ran on forty feet without stopping, then turned towards us again. I simply could not get the mare round to face the maddened animal. She was quivering with fright, and when I tried to turn her up from running away, she reared again and again, nearly throwing me. Meanwhile five or six of the steers, in a panic, had taken to the timber. Once again the bull charged, his hoarse roaring fairly shaking the ground; and once again Patsy avoided him by springing to the left. She was not quite quick enough, however ; his horn grazed her shoulder, and the blood spurted out and then trickled in a slow stream down her leg. By this time the bull was mad; I saw it was no ordinary angry animal [ had to deal with. If I wanted to keep a whole skin Patsy was advancing very there was but one thing to do, and that was to ° run for it. He was just about to charge again, when Igave Patsyherhead. Thelittlemareskirted the knoll and galloped swiftly over the boggy land in the direction of the lake, the bull following. If I had had my revolver instead of my rifle I could have shot the beast, but it took all my strength sometimes to keep Patsy from falling, for the ground was very uneven and full of holes. Suddenly a mad roaring almost in my ears made me turn my head—to behold the bull not twenty paces away. I spurred Patsy, shouting at the same time, and the plucky mare, weak as she must have been getting from loss of blood, responded bravely. We were on higher and drier land now, and her little feet scarcely touched the earth as we flew along, though her heavy breathing showed me she was getting tired. On we ran, and on came the bull behind us ; I could hear the quick thump of his feet. Then Patsy stumbled. For a second my heart was in my throat, as I felt the hot breath of the bull on the back of my neck ; then Patsy was on her feet again and off like a shot toward the lake. The cliff was in front of me now, and ever growing nearer. All at once I saw that directly in our path one of the few fir trees that dotted the land near the lake had fallen. We reached it, and like a bird my game little mare cleared it. Not so the bull; it was too high for him. He ran at it madly, butting his head against it. As Patsy, almost exhausted after her jump, slowed up a trifle I turned in my saddle and ‘saw him break one of his horns against the impassive obstacle, leaving it hanging by a shred of skin. Then, with a baffled roar, he started to run around the tree. But Patsy had a good start, and we were at the cliff before the bull got fairly after us again. By this time my poor little mare was almost sinking under me. There was nothing for it but to go down the bank, trusting a little to its shelter, and this we did. Patsy almost slid down the nearly perpendicular cliff. There was a narrow beach at the base. We reached it and Patsy regained her equilibrium, just as the bull crashed down after us, sending the dirt and gravel in all directions. The maddened beast, instead of sliding down as we had, had jumped— literally over our heads—and_ plunged three feet out into the lake, where he stood, the water up to his belly, his tongue out, and his head wagging from side to side, apparently unable to stir from the place. I did not wait to see whether he had crippled himself or not, but, unslinging my rifle, I put a° shot into him that gave him his quietus.. A moment more, and the blue water was broken only by the ripples that marked the place where he had fallen. After that I slid from my horse’s back and, leading her to the water, washed the wound on her shoulder, which had _filled with dust as we

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214 ; THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. came down the embankment. Then, after she had had a drink, we tried to climb the cliff again, but it was not so easy going back as it had been coming down, and Patsy was pretty lame. We skirted the shore for fully a mile and a half before we found a place that proved accessible, occasionally having to wade, where except when the sunlight caught the larger streams that ran down the gullies here and there. The ice in the mountain lakes had hardly begua to melt yet, so that this stream must have come from springs somewhere just above. *The cattle certainly would not have gone any higher than I was now, so I decided not to go —— A VIEW OF LAKE BENNETT, the water ran up close against the cliff. When at last we came to a break in the cliff where there was an easy incline up from the shore we had gone half-way around the lake. I shouted once or twice, expecting Ran to answer at once, for the afternoon was pretty well gone, and he should have reached the spot before me. Evidently, however, he was nowhere in the vicinity. I gave up shouting at last and, coming to a fairly good trail down the hill, I left Patsy to rest while I started on foot up the mountain, which was pretty steep just here. I felt rather disgusted to think that the last bunch of steers had all escaped me, but I hoped to come upon another lot yet. I had my raw-hide in my belt and carried my rifle in my hand. If I could locate any cattle, I thought, I would wait until Ran came up, when we could easily run them into the valley. It was getting quite chilly. now, and a cold wind had sprung up. I passed through a small forest of fir, where the ground was still white with snow, and, turning to the right, came out upon a little plateau. Above and beyond this the face of the mountain was almost perpen- dicular, worn as smooth as glass bya thin fall of water that slid down it, scarcely discernible (Photograph, any farther, but to wait for Ran, meanwhile taking a look round the immediate vicinity. I accordingly skirted around the grove of fir trees, climbing the mountain some hundred feet higher, when I came upon a level interval, with more blueberry bushes and some scrubby birch trees. I was tired and hungry. Seeing no sign of the cattle in any direction, I sat down on the ground with my back against a fallen tree, my face towards the top of the hills, and filled my pipe. ‘I felt sure Ran would be along soon, and 1 listened, expecting to hear his shouts either above or below me almost at any minute. Suddenly somewhere behind me, though not far off, I heard a rustling in the bushes. Rising cautiously, I peered over the trunk of the tree and caught a glimpse of something brown moving down at the edge of the fir grove. I ran round the tree, my rifle in my hand, and crept down the hill on my hands and knees ; not wishing this new party, whatever it might be, to catch sight of me until I was ready. T did not expect what I found. Losing sight of the moving object for a minute or two, I crawled through a big clump of blueberry bushes, and a little farther on found myself face to face with-a very fair-sized brown bear. When

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AN UNSUCCESSFUL ROUND-UP. 215 he saw me he lifted himself on his haunches and blinked his small eyes at me, showing no resentment at all, merely a slight curiosity. I raised my rifle to shoot, changed’ my mind, and lowered it again. It would do me no earthly good to kill the beast. If, as I supposed, it was a cub, the mother would be somewhere in the vicinity ; and, though the animal must have been nearly a year old, I have known those mountain bears to show fight when the cub was as big as the parent. J had only one cartridge left in my gun (I had used the other on the bull), so I decided to let my curious friend, who continued to mildly gaze at me, alone. Just as I had reached this decision I heard a snuffling almost in my ear, and turning swiftly I saw, immediately behind me, another bear— the old one, to all appearances. I won't say how big she was ; I have not the slightest doubt my terror made her assume gigantic proportions. She was showing her teeth in a most un- friendly manner, and, looking from one to the other of the two huge beasts, I felt my hair stiffen on my head. I didn’t wait to think or reason ; I simply turned and fled up the mountain. After ten minutes’ hard climbing, my finger-nails torn and bleeding from where I had dug them into everything and anything te accelerate my progtess, breathless, hot, and dirty, I turned my head to find that neither bear had taken the trouble to follow me. Just as I was congratulating myself I heard Ran’s call. He was apparently a good deal higher up than I. I supposed he must have had to make a detour aroyind the water-washed cliff. I did not answer him until I had put a hundred yards between myself and the bears, thinking, as I toiled laboriously up, that in all likelihood Patsy had scented the beasts and would run down * into the valley. Ran’s shouts were following one another in quick succession. I answered him, and, as I “) PELT MY HAIK STIFFEN ON MY HEAD.” drew nearer, I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was in some sort of trouble. As I neared the top of the hill I had to work my way through a perfect tangle of trees and dry brush ; while under my feet the ground

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216 was thick with soft mud and water from the lately melted snow. The tangled growth formed a sort of hedge round what was evidently a wide bog, though it was now still frozen over. Ran and his horse were both in the bog, the horse well out in the middle. [ could only see his head, while Ran was nearer the shore on the opposite side, struggling for dear life with the broken ice and thick mud up to his waist. Going cautiously out upon the ice I leaned THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. one of us upon either side of him we finally got him turned toward the left arm of the bog, which, shaped like a V, ran up at its extreme end to a very narrow opening. I cannot describe the task we had to get that horse on terra firma again. We spent exactly three hours on the bog, shouting, threatening, coaxing, cajoling, until finally, utterly exhausted, we had the satisfaction of pulling him up the bank, where for another hour we had to rub From a) over the hole where he was floundering, and after several vain efforts was able to haul him up and half lead, half drag him to the bank. Between fits of shiveting and. various ejacula~ tions he told me of the accident, while I did my best to scrape him clean. According to his story, he had taken the bog . for a small lake, the frozen surface being - unbroken then. A short time before he had crossed just such a body of water, and the ice bore him easily. Patsy would have had sense enough not to have ventured on so treacherous | a surface. One can usually trust to a horse’s instinct in such a case, but Ran’s horse showed no apprehension, and was out four or five feet on the ice before it broke under him. We now turned our attention to the poor animal, whose predicament seemed almost hope- less. His body was completely out of sight, and his mouth was torn and bleeding from his futile efforts to bite his way through the ice. While the bog was not frozen hard enough to bear the weight of a horse, Ran and I felt con- fident that it would hold us up. We accord- ingly started out and ran round behind the animal. He was making for the bank we had just left, but could never have reached it. With A HEKD OF WIL D CATTLE. (Photograph. him and exercise him, trying to restore the circulation in his benumbed limbs. ‘lime and - again he dropped down in his tracks and we thought it was all up with him; at last, however, we managed to work our way along until we caine to the head of the trail where I had left Patsy. By this time it was as dark as it would be all night—a sort of twilight, with the tops of the mountains lost in shadow and the valleys full of vaporous sheets of mist. As I expected, Patsy had gone, but we found her down at the foot of the trail, standing patiently waiting. Ran ventured to mount his horse, and I rode Patsy. We made the circuit of the valley, expecting to find some of the steers we had driven down, but not a hoof could we see, though Ran told me he had driven ten or twelve out of the hills. Thoroughly tired out, dirty, wet, and hungry, we rode back to camp. And, if you'll believe me, that was the last I ever saw of that fifty-odd head of cattle. They took to the hills com- pletely. Some of them, I've no doubt, died, for they were in a pretty bad condition ; others, I dare say, have survived the rigours of the winter climate and are somewhere up there near Bennett yet, as wild and as care-free as buffalo.

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Through the Heart of China. FROM BURMA TO SHANGHAI. By J. Gervais-CouRTELLEMONT. M. and Mme. Gervais-Courtellemont have done a great deal of exploration work in the Far East, but nothing more ambitious or perilous than the journey here described——a trip from the Burmese border across the heart of unknown China to Shanghai. Their experiences were many, strange, and exciting, and the splendid photographs accompanying the narrative add greatly to its interest. JE were now nearing Tali-fou, an im- portant town, and the centre of a } most interesting ‘region. Before entering it we noticed a great number of cemeteries— evidences of the former importance of the place. For two whole days we marched alongside an uninterrupted line of tombstones, built in tiers on the mountain sides. They all faced the same way, with a small structure of masonry at the head of each, giving the appearance of huge eyes peeping out from among the rocks into the infinite beyond. At last, however, our gaze rested upon some- thing far more pleasant than this city of the dead. This was the beautiful Lake of ‘ali, reflecting like a mirror the snow-capped moun- tains which surround it. The trees were in bloom, the birds sang around us as we passed, and the joy of life was everywhere—in marked contrast to the scene we had just quitted. At Tali we were to stay with a French mis- sionary, who was expecting us. We found the town very lively, for the annual fair was being held, and we had the greatest difficulty in forcing a passage through the dense crowds before reaching the mission-house. At last, however, we arrived at our destination, and were received by Father Le Guilcher, our host. The joy of the patriarch at seeing two of his countrymen was intense. The aged priest had been quartered in the remote Chinese town for fifty-three years, and it is but seldom that he is able to exchange speech with one of his own race. ‘Asa matter of fact, during the past half- century he has only seen ten travellers who spoke his mother tongue. As for a French woman, he had not set his eyes on one since his arrival, and hence the advent of Mme. Courtellemont inspired in him the liveliest emotion. Her coming, he told us, brought back to him the dear memories of half a century back ; a vision of his mother, of his sister, his playmates, and Vol. xx.—28, IL. all the sweet influences of womanhood that go to make a child’s life one long round of happi- ness. All these thoughts were brought back to him suddenly by the arrival of this woman traveller, and two big tears made their way down his cheeks as he clasped her hand. Father Le Guilcher placed a whole build- ing at our disposal, and we were thus enabled to make ourselves very comfortable. We were to stay here a whole month, and as during that period we were to be brought in éontact with all the leading mandarins and their families, it was necessary that we should make a good “show,” for appearances count in China, as elsewhere. While we settled down in our new quarters, the muleteers and their charges were sent to the inn to‘enjoy a well-earned rest. We did not tequire them any longer, for we were going to be society people here and should only go about in Sedan chairs, as it behoved ‘ mandarins” of our importance to do. I, of course, wore the Chinese dress, as I had done since the beginning of the journey. It isa costume adopted centuries ago by missionaries, both Roman Catholic and Protestant, who find that it answers their purposes better than their own; the conservative Chinaman feels more at ease and has more confidence in a man who is dressed similarly to himself. If, as I have done, the traveller adopts the dress of the country and exercises some of the politeness which is re- quired by immemorial custom, he will avoid much that is unpleasant. As for Mme. Courtellemont, she was perforce obliged to remain in European costume, for were she to adopt the dress of a real mandarin lady she would have to submit to the close con- finement within doors which is their lot; and it was hardly to be expected that a lady who had + the courage to undertake such a_ hazardous _ journey as this would agree to hide herself Jike a chrysalis within its shell.

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218 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ON THK RIGHT IS FATHER LE GUILCHER, THE FRENCH MISSIONARY AT TALI — MME. COURTELLEMONT WAS THE FIKST WHITE WOMAN HE HAD SEEN FOR FIFTY YEARS | From a Photograph. On the other hand, Mme. Courtellemont did not need to go about so much as myself. Her field of exploration lay in the inner home of the Chinese, where I, of course, was unable to penetrate. She spent her days in rounds of visits, dinners, and ceremonious calls of various descriptions. I will borrow from her note-book some descriptions of the feminine side of Chinese life which custom barred me from witnessing. She writes: “The Tao-Tai (Governor) of Tali had recently married his second wife, a girl from the Yuritian, a provincial lady who had never yet set eyes on a European lady. She contemplated me in the most ingenuous fashion. She was sur- rounded in her daily life by widows and young girls, all natives of Peking, who themselves see nothing astonishing in me. Being poor relations of either the husband or the deceased wife, they had been admitted into the woman’s part of the household when their fathers- or husbands died. “The worthy Tao-Tai had only one wife, but he gives refuge in this way to no fewer than a dozen poor women, of whom several had children — all of which, of course, adds enor- mously to his household ex- penses. There were inale and female servants—cooks, scullery boys, chair carriers, and satellites —who took charge of the house- hold and visitors. All these form quite a large retinue, which the Tao-Tai takes bodily with him whenever -a fresh appoint- ment necessitates a removal elsewhere, and these removals, to say the least, are most fre- quent. “The newly-wedded wife had just presented her lord and master with a beautiful boy, and as this is the greatest blessing that can happen to a woman, she showed him to me with great pride. “The Pekingese ladies I have mentioned soon became my friends; they were unlike most women that I have ever met in yamens, being jolly and happy- go-lucky. Sometimes they even laughed—a thing very seldom met with in China. ‘ “We talked of Shanghai and of all they knew of our civilization. They were delighted to see me, for they were bored to death in this out-of-the-way spot, where they most certainly scandalize the outraged feelings of their sisters, who believe that one must be dull to be quite proper. “At the Deputy-Governor’s, where I called pretty frequently, I found the first case of poly- gamy which I have ever come across, for, curiously enough, the Chinaman who indulges in the expensive luxury of several wives is fairly rare, although the Chinese religion admits of

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THROUGH THE HEART OF CHINA. 219 - polygamy and the women themselves recognise it as permissible. “In this particular yamen three women lived in perfect harmony as the wives of the Deputy- Governor. They are not a bit jealous of one another, having but little affection for their common lord and master. From morning till night they keep each other company over their water-bowl pipes, playing from time to time with the children, each showing as much affec- tion for the offspring of the other woman as for her own. “When I dined in this house it amused me to be received by three hostesses at the same which were offered me, but it is difficukt to evade their hospitality without giving offence.” The next photograph reproduced shows Mme. Courtellemont dining with these Chinese ladies. The great fair at Tali-fou brings together a very cosmopolitan crowd. One hears the dialects of innumerable districts, whilst various different languages are also in use. That part of the fair where many restaurants have been hastily erected presents a very animated appear- ance, since the townsman and the countryman jostle one another in a friendly fight for good things, washed down by generous libations of alcohol or rice wine. The Tibetans, who come MME. COURTELLEMONT DINING WITH THE THREE WIVES OF THE DEPUTY-GOVERNOR— THE REPAST CONSISTED OF SEVENTY DISHES, AND TO SATISFY THREE HOSTESSES DURING A MEAL LASTING FOUR HOURS WAS NOT EASY. From a Photograph. time. The first wife enjoyed certain prerogatives, but the other two considered themselves hostesses as well, and they were all most assiduous in pro- viding me with choice pieces from the numerous dishes which covered the table. The dinner, by the way, consisted of seventy dishes, which succeeded one another at one sitting. “T got tired of it, however, for it is not easy to satisfy three hostesses all at once during a meal which lasts no less than four hours. My appetite protested against the many courtesies down from their mountain fastnesses to sell herbs for the making of Chinese drugs, sheep-skins, horses, and cattle, stand open-mouthed before the shops, where their eyes feast on brightly- coloured clothes, ornamental harness, hardware, and innumerable things which their poverty will not allow them to buy. Some of them stop in out-of-the-way corners in order to give a few turns to their prayer-wheels, which they revolve with rapidity to the sound of a small bell which rings during the operation. These quaint people

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220 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. have invented a method quite in accordance with these hurried times, whereby they contrive to put in the greatest number of prayers in the least possible time. Let us hope that their gods are duly impressed by this mechanical piety. The third photo- graph depicts one of these Tibetan hillmen with his prayer-wheel. Having com- pleted our inves- tigations, wereluc- tantly decided to leave ‘l'ali and the house which the good Father Le Guilcher so kindly lent us. He insisted upon accompanying us in his palanquin for some distance out of the town. When we finally bade him farewell we lowered our heads to hide from the stolid Chinaman the tears that rose to our eyes, for we realized that we should never see one another again. The separation was more painful, perhaps, for the aged priest, whose duty it was to return to his awful solitude—an ad- vance guard of civilization lost among a horde of Chinamen. Good- bye—and forward again! How many such friendships have we not made and broken through the stern necessity of our wandering life! We were now bound for Yunnan-Sen, the capital of the province, where the Viceroy resides. There were -quite fifteen marches between it and us. The country through which we made our way was very barren, and the villages were so miserably poor that we could find no accommodation therein, so that our A TIBETAN HILLMAN WITH HIS PRAYER-WHEEL. From a Photograph. escort of soldiers was perforce obliged to let us erect our tents. We were always very happy when we found ourselves in our little canvas house, so clean and comfortable after those terrible Chinese inns. The route which we. were now traversing had as yet been very little used by Europeans, and we therefore suc- ceeded in attract- ing the most amazing curiosity from ‘the inhabi- tants. ‘They left everything to come and look at us; the houses emptied as we passed and the whole of the populace followed “us, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, right out into the country. Even the phlegmatic tillers of the soil dropped their tools and ran at top-speed to see. the “Devils of the West” pass by. It was especi- ally the wife of _ the “mandarin” —the “woman with the white face” — that all were eager to get a glimpse of. Their disap- pointment, how- ever, was great. A palanquin fol- lowed the mount of the great foreign mandarin, surrounded by soldiers, with all the curtains closely drawn. It was impossible to see the lady, who, no doubt they thought, followed the custom and dress of the Chinese ladies and hid herself from the public gaze. Poor deluded people! A trick was being played upon them ; for that closed palanquin contained nothing more than our provisions. As for the “tai-tai” (the great lady), the wife of the mandarin, they failed to recognise her in that

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THROUGH THE HEART OF CHINA. 221 modest boy, wearing a Chinese hat, who trotted steadily behind the palanquin. We were hugely amused in watching the women’s eyes all fixed reverently on the palanquin, while no one noticed the “boy” who followed in its wake, and Mme. Courtellemont was delighted with the ruse which spared her the rude stares of the populace and enabled her to journey in peace. The incident also amused our men immensely; they enjoyed to the full the joke which was being played on the villagers. The idea was first suggested to us by Father Le Guilcher, who drew our attention to the fact gardens. We were next door to a beautiful pagoda, inhabited .by hundreds of crows, which were regarded with superstitious reverence. Their raucous cries, however, did not at all harmonize with the voices of the children in the school kept by our landlord. Each pupil repeated loudly to himself the maxims of Confucius, which were rammed into his head by con- stant repetition. This is the Chinese idea of education. These children, by the way, were never tired of coming over during their free time to watch our every act and gesture, while the sacred CHINESE MOHAMMEDANS IN THE MOSQUE AT YUNNAN-SEN. From a Photograph. that a lady like Mme. Courtellemont, whose husband travelled in the name of the French Government, could not journey in the easy way she adopted without shocking Chinese suscepti- bilities. ‘Thus the palanquin helped us to keep up appearances ; people believed that the lady was inside, and everyone was satisfied. When nearing towns, however, Mme. Courtellemont resumed her European clothes and was seen about only in the palanquin. At Yunnan-Sen we hired a pretty little house a short distance from the town, and situated amidst crows, made bold by their assurance of immunity from harm, actually invaded the interior of the house and helped themselves from the dishes of food on the dining-room table! Apart from these little drawbacks, we were quite pleased with our pretty villa, where we were, at last, able to settle down properly with our retinue. There is quite a large colony of Europeans, both French and English, in this city, but as I had come for the express purpose of studying the

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222 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. A GRUESOME OBJECT-LESSON—THE HEADS OF DRCAFITATED MALRFACTORS EXPOSED OUTSIDE A CHINESE CITY (Photograph. From a) AS A WAKNING TO OTHER KVIL-DORRS, Mussulman population I refrained from mixing too much with the European element. From the very beginning I was received most kindly into the Mussulman circle, the principal reason for this being, I suppose, that they knew that I was one of the few Europeans who had pene- trated into Mecca, the sacred town of Islam, which fact stood me in lieu of a passport among them. While I made my own researches in this direction, Mme. Courtellemont resumed her relations with the Chinese ladies. This resulted in a constant interchange of visits, the receipt of numerous presents, which were sent us with great ceremony, and the frequent visits of superior servants who called on ours in order to consult them in connection with forthcoming banquets which were to be given in our honour. All arrangements of this nature are made by the housekeepers and staff of both households, the masters themselves being content to appear when all is ready. On leaving Yunnan-Sen, after a long stay, we made our way westwards towards the Se-Tchouen Province. As we emerged through one of the gates of the town we noticed that the passers-by were looking skywards, and on following their gaze we noticed something dangling high up

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THROUGH THE HEART OF CHINA. 223 on the wall. Getting nearer, we saw to our horror that three human heads, enclosed in small wooden cages, as shown in the last photograph, had been hung there by order of the mandarins for the edification of law- breakers. The Chinese officials are rather fond of using these eloquent human object-lessons, for it was not the first time that we had come across similar decapitated heads in similar wooden baskets, hung on walls or trees, just as a reminder to the populace that there ¢s really such a thing as authority, which is exercised with rigour when occasion arises. It often happens that the original owner of a head so exposed committed no worse crime than to steal a few fowls or cabbages from his neighbour's garden, but an example must be made from time to time, no matter what the degree of guilt of the poor wretch selected as a victim, and it is by this means only that it is possible to keep the lawless mob in hand, since there are no organized police. Soon there loomed before us interminable stretches of abominable roads and treacherous footpaths, with mountains on one side and precipices on the other, to say nothing of hostile natives all around us. At Tong-Tchouan we were fortunate in meeting another French missionary, Father Bonhomme, and were induced to make a few days’ stay in the town. We were admitted to the “Camp of the Lettered,” an immense building erected to accommodate the examiners and their followers when examination time arrives for candidates for official positions. - Here again, by the aid of our missionary friend, we were intro- duced everywhere, and the entire “smart set” of Tong-Tchouan showered invitations upon us. At Tchao-Tung-Fou we came across yet another French missionary, Father Le Garrec, a Breton by birth. We came upon him unawares as he sat perched on a scaffolding superintending the workmen who were building his church. Although he knew we were coming he had the utmost difficulty in controlling his emotions, for it is but seldom that the poor man sees any of his countrymen within the walls of Tchao-Tung- Fou. I asked him to point out to us the best inn at which to stay in order that I might relieve his yard of our numerous retinue, adding that we would come back and see him. Thereupon the good Father, pointing to the palanquin which he thought contained Mme. Courtellemont, gave orders to the carriers thus: “ You fellows take the tai-tai (great lady) to the front door of my house, where she will alight.” Our worthy friend was thus deceived as well as many others, and the faces of our men expressed their delight in huge grins of amusement. Turning round immediately, and motioning to the silent figure meekly sitting on her horse behind me, I duly introduced the good priest to Mme. Courtelle- mont, whereupon the worthy prelate’s com- plexion assumed all the colours of the rainbow in turn, while I apologized for the deception. The reverend father conducted us personally to our inn. On arrival; however, We were astonished to find the place empty, save for a scared-looking doorkeeper who alone remained on the premises; the proprietor and his wife, the cashier, and the servants had all fled at our approach. On inquiry we heard that this strange behaviour was due to a former visit by a European traveller whose treatment of the inmates left painful memories behind. Everything was explained, however, and after a little while we had the satisfaction of seeing the innkeeper, his wife, and staff all installed in the exercise of their respective duties. It is a pleasure to know, too, that all these bad im- pressions have since been wiped out, and that any European travellers that may henceforth call at Tchao-Tung-Fou will meet with the greatest courtesy and attention. From here onwards the footpaths became more and more difficult to negotiate. We had accidents every day both to man and beast, and were compelled to give them medical attention to the best of our poor ability. On this portion of our route we were given an escort of trumpeters, who, sounding their instru- ments, warned any caravans that might be coming in the opposite direction to range themselves on one side so that we might have a clear passage. This precaution was by no means superfluous, as the journey proved nothing more or less than awful. At one place perpendicular steps were cut in the very face of the beetling cliff, while in another the path took serpentine curves round cornices where a single false step meant instant death. Close to some of the most dangerous spots shrines were erected, wherein grotesquely-carved images of fierce-looking idols remind the traveller that it is well to keep within the good graces of the mountain gods by showing ample generosity towards the gonzes (priests) and the hermits who live close by. (To be concluded.)

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MORE QUEER FIXES. By C. A. ANDERSON, J. WILSON, AND MANSEL B. GREEN. HE trial was over. The summing-up of the judge had been wholly and heavily against me. The jury had arrived at their ver- dict unanimously, and the foreman had delivered it uncompro- misingly. I was guilty, and there was death-like silence in the heated court-room as his honour reached out his hand for the black cap—the horrifying prelude to the awful sentence that was about to be, passed upon me. “ Prisoner at the bar”—I heard the voice as of someone speaking to me from a distance— “you have been found guilty by a jury of your fellow-countrymen of some of the most heinous crimes a jackeroo can commit on a nor’-west station, and the verdict meets with my fullest approbation. To begin with, you are a jackeroo, and the jury have rightly grasped the awful significance of that fact. In the second place, evidence has been adduced which goes to prove that you can’t ride a buck-jumper for shinty ; and in the third place you have been seen to wear baggy riding pants, and have been heard to say ‘Haw’! Have you anything to say why the extreme penalty of the law should not be passed upon you?” I had a good deal to say, and said it. I told him I wasn’t going to be bull-baited by a pack of station hooligans who coutdn’t tell kangaroo from venison ; that if I couldn’t manage to hang to a wretched horse so long as they did, I didn’t look like a beastly clothes-peg on a line when I was on one; and that I should immediately report their conduct to the manager, Mr. Hocking, when they had finished their tom- foolery and let me retire. I had a good deal MR. GA. ANDERSON, From a Photograph. So popular were the series of “Queer Fixes" which we recently published, detailing out-of-the-ordinary happenings and remarkable predicaments, that we have decided to continue them. Below will be found the first three stories of a fascinating collection. 1.-AT THE END OF A ROPE. By C. A. ANDERSON, OF KaALGOORLIE, WESTERN AUSTRALIA. more to say why sentence of court should not be passed upon me, but I was rudely interrupted by the judge. “ After what you have remarked, prisoner,” he said, ‘nothing remains for me but to pass sentence, which is”—and here he pulled the black cap (a silk handkerchief) over his head— “that you be immediately hung by the neck, or some other convenient portion of your frame, until—until you’ve had blooming well enough of it, and may Heaven have mercy upon you if you don’t immediately afterwards send for a ‘case’ to treat the chaps and pay your footing on Mindaroo station. The sentence will be carried out at once.” And now a word in explanation. I had arrived but a short time before at Mindaroo sheep station, in the north-west of Australia, where I was to gain experience —“ Colonial experience,” as it is always termed out there— in that most‘anomalous of positions—jackeroo. That is to say, I combined the labours of the “rouseabout” with the privilege of living in “Government House,” as the homestead proper is styled, being thus, socially speaking, neither fish, flesh, nor good red-herring. The neutral tints of Australian bush life are dreary and monotonous, and the everyday toiler on a squatting run has little enough variety to colour the dull grey of his existence. The advent of a new chum, bringing with him city ways and perhaps, as I fear I did, old-country notions and unjust prejudices, is welcomed by the station hands as likely to be productive of much mirth. Rough fellows they are invariably, but good fellows als at heart. In this case I was the jackeroo, and was to provide the sport expected of a new chum for the little mob congregated in the wool-shed. I had been arrested by the shearers’ cook, the wool-shed had been arranged into a burlesque

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MORE QUEER FIXES. 225 semblance of a court of law, and the judge, sitting on a wool-bale beneath a canopy of red blankets, looked sufficiently terrifying in a full- bottomed sheepskin wig. I, the prisoner, had been the butt of the rough wit of the shed, oftentimes amusing enough, no doubt, to an onlooker, but extremely trying to a young fellow who felt alone in everything amongst these strange men and just a little homesick, though he would not admit it, even to himself. But sentence of court was about to be carried out upon my body. Had I been more accus- tomed to the rough ways of the bush I could have avoided the penalty by. laughing at the joke and promising to provide a “case” (four dozen of Colonial beer) for judge and jury. But then this thing would not have happened, and I would have been the poorer for ever by an experience such as I think few men have lived to tell of, though many may have undergone. Over one of the cross-beams in the wool-shed a long rope had been thrown—I had evidently been prejudged and precondemned—and under this I was dragged with much hilarity, fearing nothing for my life, of course, but expressing my indignation in violent but futile struggles. My arms were unpinioned, but held by two stout rouseabouts, while another, after pulling an empty sugar-bag over my head, buckled a long saddle-strap round’ my body beneath the armpits. After passing it through the buckle the long end of the strap was rove to the end of the dangling rope ; a score of willing hands seized the other extremity, the executioner’s assistants relaxed their grip of my arms, and, amid much shouting and yelling and barking of dogs, I was hauled, struggling violently, from the ground ; the rope was secured to a wall- plate, and I was left swinging in mid-air. Shrouded as my head was in the sugar-bag, and bursting with indignation at the rough handling, but even more so at the ridiculous figure I knew I was presenting, for a moment I was too angry to appreciate thoroughly the actual discomfort of my position. I heard the men trooping out of the shed, and amid their jeers and laughter heard such comments as ** Do him good,” “Ten minutes won't hurt him,” and so on ; then came silence. Presently I awoke to the fact that the pressure of the strap round my chest and under my armpits was becoming distinctly painful. It occurred to me that such pain as I was feel- ing might well become absolute torture within less than the ten minutes I expected to have to endure it, and, my arms being free, I clutched at the strap above my head with both hands, lifting my body by the contraction of my biceps, and thus lessening the sensation Vol, xx.—29. . of intolerable pressure. For one moment I had been upon the point of calling out to my tormentors--who I had no doubt were within hearing—that I had had enough and would gladly meet them on their own terms in con- sideration of an immediate commutation of sentence ; but the discovery that I could support myself with my hands for an indefinite period gave me the idea that it was also possible to release myself altogether, by simply hanging by one hand while I unbuckled the strap with the other. By using each hand alternately I could easily slip the loop, which would then assume the proportions of a running noose, over my head—after which nothing remained for me but to drop lightly to the ground. I immediately commenced to put my plan into operation, and, having got rid of the sugar- bag, was pleased to find that I was able to raise my body sufficiently to allow me to release the tongue of the buckle from the leather and to slacken the loop so that I could push it up over my shoulders. Shifting my grasp upon the rope to my other hand I again raised myself, and, working my other arm clear, prepared to lift the loop entirely over my head. Suddenly I felt my hand slipping downwards upon the well-greased strap. For one moment it did not occur to me that, having the loop by this time well above my shoulders, anything more serious than a light drop of a few feet to the ground was in store for me, and I made no particular effort to maintain my hold. Next instant, however, I felt the “bite” of the leather as the noose closed around my neck, a quick beating as of many drums throbbed upon my ears, a mighty hammer seemed beating upon my brain, my hands thrashed the empty air above my head, and I was dangling by the neck as helplessly and as hopelessly as malefactor ever yet swung from Tyburn tree ! Consciousness did not leave me. I knew what had taken and was taking place; knew that I was choking, that death was a matter of minutes only, and the fear that was in me paralyzed the motive faculties of my brain insomuch that, although I knew my _ life depended upon my clutching the leather above my head, my hands were incapable of obeying the dictates of my reason, and groped wildly and incoherently in every direction. Nor do I think now that, had they succeeded in their quest, my muscles would have been sufficiently under my control to render me any efficient service. Be that as it may, I know I recog- nised the fact that I was doomed with most appalling clearness, and that, though every muscle and nerve and sinew was twitching and jerking convulsively, it was doing so without any direction from my intelligence.

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226 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “MY HANDS THRASHED THE EMPTY AIR ABUVE MY HEAD,” By this time my eyes were full of blood, and the objects that floated before my distorted vision were deep dyed with its crimson horror. But these things soon passed away from me. I was conscious of a violent report,* like the explosion of dynamite in hard rock, that seemed to shatter the bones of my skull, and I wondered dully if anyone had been injured. The crimson flood grew fainter, ebbed, and faded ; vision became an abstract sense, and no longer made pretence of discrimination. All objects merged into one—the tide of blood rolled over me * I found afterwards that I had kicked a shoe off my foot in my struggles, Doubtless it was the sound, greatly magnified by my warped senses, that I had heard.—Tue AUTHOR. again, receded, paled, and vanished. A blushing mass of brilliant light, such as might have been emitted from thousands of electric lamps, surged over my being and seemed to soak through every nerve, stringing it up to supernatural strength, and I knew that every fibre of my organism was making a titanic protest against this unjust fiat of annihilation. Presently I was swooning in a delicious languor, from which I had no wish to be re- called. All fear of death had left me now. In fact, looking back upon my experience through the dry and matter-of-fact atmosphere of time, it appears to me that, after what I take to be my final involuntary Struggle, my

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MORE QUEER FIXES. 227 being was served by but two senses of the five—those of sight and hearing—and these modified to such a degree that what I saw and heard were but the phantasms of my congested brain, all sense of ousward sound or sight being as much in abeyance as though my body were actually dead. Following upon the delicious sensation of floating upon softly undulating ripples of reful- gent light, I became aware that the colour of the light was changeable. Not that any sudden or violent transformations took place such as appear in the kaleidoscope, but gradually and almost imperceptibly the effulgence—for I can call it nothing else—became tinted with prismatic hues. Wavelets of tinted ether rolled softly upon me, and music such as was never evoked from earthly instruments played faintly upon my ears, But what was this thing that was happening ? The harmonious blending of those wondrous clouds of light had ceased. The ripples became - surges that roared in my ears as I was dashed and tossed savagely about in a very chaos of colour. Each hue stood out clearly and sharply defined from its neighbours. Bars of vivid red, black, and purple pre- dominated, and struck upon my vision in agonizing flashes. Ten thousand awful voices were shrieking menaces at me ; flaming knives pierced my spine, my breast, my throat. For a moment reason appeared to resume her sway. I knew that this was death—death terrible and inexorable, and I feared it with an unutterable terror. I felt that I would have given my chances of salvation for the ability to utter one last scream of agony, for not the least of my sufferings was that J was voiceless! Then the accusing, threatening voices died, gibbering away into the darkness. The jangling colours dissolved and merged into a deep purple haze. Deeper and darker it grew; the power of hearing was no more—a weight of inky blackness pressed on every hand, and the last .of the senses had departed from me! “Thank God you're alive, old man!” I heard someone saying, and I saw an anxious face bending over mine. I was lying, I afterwards discovered, on a sofa in the front room of “Government House.” “What is wrong?” I tried to ask, but my blackened tongue refused its office. At the same moment recollection returned to me and I knew without telling what had occurred. I had evidently been cut down not a moment too soon. Oh, that terrible ten minutes! Was it possible I had undergone all that I had done in that short space of time? It seemed impossible, and one of the first questions I asked when I was able to speak was, “‘ How long was I hang- ing over there ?” “You were hanging, old man,” was the reply, “just two minutes and a quarter /” IL—THE BOILER DOOR. By J. Witson. ALL of us, at some ‘time or other, meet with experi- ences which, whether they be serious in their ending or not, retain a hold upon our memories that the lapse of time cannot shake off nor yet diminish ; they become almost a part of ourselves. .The incident I am about to relate be- longs to this class; I shall never forget it to my dying day. For obvious reasons I withhold the name of- the vessel on which the inci- dent occurred. Suffice it to say that in March, 1892, I joined a steamer lying in the Royal Albert Docks, London, as third engineer voyage to Bombay, wd Antwerp. We partly loaded at London, and arrived at Antwerp on a Saturday afternoon. As already stated, this was my first trip, and everything was delightfully novel and fresh to me. Could I have fore- seen the experience I was soon to undergo, however, the rosy tints would for a time have vanished from my horizon. On arrival at Antwerp I was engaged in the engine-room on some re- pairs, whilst the second engineer had the fires drawn from one of the two main boilers, and blew out the water with the idea (my first trip to sea in an official capacity) for a — From a] MR. J. WILSON. (Photograph. Of having the boiler cool

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228 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. and dry ready for the firemen to scale internally on the Monday morning. Whilst I was engaged at my work, the ‘second ’ came down and gave me orders to knock in the top manhole door of a starboard boiler. Taking a Belgian fireman and the necessary gear with me, I at once proceeded to the boiler-top. I should here explain that by knocking in the top door the hot vapour remain- ing in the émpty boiler is allowed to escape into the atmosphere. The operation consists of fixing a length of rope toan eye-bolt on the door, taking off the two “dogs,” which are secured by nuts, and allowing the door to drop into the boiler about a foot, leaving slack on the supporting rope for that purpose. I made the rope fast above, secured it to the eye-bolt, and proceeded to take off the dogs. These are two bow-shaped pieces of iron with holes in their centres to admit the door-studs. They extend across the manhole, supported at each end by the boiler shell, and, by means of the two nuts, keep the door tight and in position. After removing the dogs, which left the door free to drop in, I gave it a tap with a heavy hammer, but to my surprise it did not move. I then gave it a hard blow, but with the same result. ‘Thinking that the joint was causing it to adhere so tenaciously, I hit it with all my strength, yet still it held on, though it seemed to give a little, just as though there were some internal spring behind it. Not wishing to pro- long the job needlessly, I again struck the door with considerable force. There was an ominous rebound of the hammer, and a jet of high- pressure steam came spurting viciously from the joint. Not till then did the awful truth dart through my mind—I had been misinformed with regard to the boiler to be operated on! Evidently it should have been the port one; “HEEDLESS OF THE SCALDING STEAM THAT BURST HEADLONG OUT, I CONTINUED MY WORK.”

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MORE QUEER FIXES. 229 the starboard one had almost full pressure of steam ! Imagine, if you can, my position there on the boiler-top. The darkness was hardly relieved by the glare of a colza-lamp, while beside me that faint hissing of steam sounded: to my overwrought imagination like a thousand demons shrieking—heralding, as it were, the awful death which threatened me. Should I run and warn all hands, so that we might perchance escape with our lives? It was a desperate chance indeed, for the door could not possibly hold much longer ; the leak was visibly increasing. Or should I remain and attempt to secure the door—another forlorn hope ? Suddenly I realized the consequences of the door falling ; it would mean that I should be blown to atoms, other precious lives lost and bodies mangled, and the ship totally wrecked. The whole life of a drowning man is said to pass before him like a panorama in a few seconds. It was so with me; my thoughts flashed like lightning through my brain, and then, in an instant, I made up my mind. With trembling fingers and a prayer on my lips I replaced one dog, expecting every moment that the door, which was now almost in a state of equilibrium, would fall in. Next I took one of the nuts and proceeded to screw it on. But how tight it seemed on the thread, how slow the » by the escaping steam. process! And those demons were still there shrieking as before, but with renewed energy. At last—to my intense relief—I felt the pressure of the dog against the nut. Only just in time, for the opposite end of the door, which _ was unsupported, had nov given way and began to “blow ” terrifically. With redoubled energy, heedless of the scalding steam that burst head- long out, I continued my work, and eventually secured that end also. Then I sank down, utterly exhausted mentally and physically, but safe. When I had somewhat recovered I staggered out on to the engine platform, where I was met by the second engineer, who had been attracted He asked what was wrong and I told him. He looked at me hor- rified, his begrimed face failing to hide the pallor that came over it, whilst he cried, huskily, “Good heavens! For goodness’ sake, don’t tell the chief, old man, or I’m ruined.” The fireman disappeared during my awful ordeal ; he must have had an idea that he was in the danger-zone. The proper door was sub- sequently knocked in, but not by me; I had had enough for one day. Years have rolled by since then, but whenever I see a boiler door being knocked in there comes back to me the memory of that terrible night I bad in Antwerp. I1.—A NIGHT WITH A HORSE.-THIEF. By Manse. B. GREEN. SoME years ago, in order to gain an insight into life in the Canadian North-West, I enlisted in the service of the North-West Mounted Police, a fine body of soldiers and _peace-officers. Among their many and varied duties is that of prairie fire-guardians. During the fall and spring of the year certain members are told off and sent to different parts of the country to take charge of the work of keeping down the fierce fires that periodically sweep the prairies. The plan was to station mounted men at farm-houses at intervals of about fifty miles. ‘These men were subject to an officer at the detachment head-quarters, situated in a little country town, where they were expected to report once a week. i Very often we had to exert ourselves in other lines of duty while on this particular patrol. An unruly band of Reservation Indians might need subjecting, for occasionally they would take it into their heads to lapse into old-time customs and attempt to decorate their persons with a few scalps from the heads of their white brethren. Or, again, a mani of leisure, who profited by bartering and selling other people’s cattle or horses without having any particular title to them, would need attention. Ke it known that in the days I speak of horse-thieving was a capital offence ; hanging was the punish- ment meted out to the offender. It will be understood, therefore, that only desperate men engaged in so dangerous a pursuit, and once confronted with a possibility of capture they fought desperately for life. It was while riding back to the farm where I was stationed one sultry autumn evening, after spending the day scouting over my allotted territory in quest of possible fires, that I chanced upon the man who was to give me that night the most thrilling experience of my life. On the level prairies one can see for miles. Seldom is there anything but the waving grass to intercept one’s view; so it was not strange that, just about sundown, I should discover three or four miles ahead a dark mass and acloud of dust which I at once decided must be either a band of horses or a herd of cattle. But why should a band of horses be

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436 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. roaming the prairie at this time? They should be safely in the corral. I concluded that they must have strayed, or they could be there to no good purpose. My professional instincts sug- gested inquiry into the matter—prudence that I should leave it to adjust itself. Ichose the former. Once having decided what to do, I was, not long in forming my plans. If the man with the band were a horse-thief he was undoubtedly from across the Montana border, and, not being familiar with the country, would bivouac for the night, as he could never hope to keep his animals together during the long dark hours. More- over, he would feel safe from any possible Ameri- can pursuers, while it was too early in the game for the. North-West Mounted Police to have been noti- fied. All this and more flashed through my mind as I rode onwards. I decided to wait till night- fall, and then come upon him unannounced and request a lodging in his tent overnight, trusting to luck for future developments. Fortunately I had that morning laid aside my uniform and had donned a typical English riding suit, with new gaiters, and a huge sombrero. In this costume I could not have looked a very awe- inspiring individual, and could easily pass myself off as a newly-arrived “ tenderfoot,” and thus disarm all suspicion. About nine o’clock I came up with my man, who I found had chosen a bluff (a clump of trees to be found dotted here and there over the prairies) by which to pitch camp. He had driven the band of horses in among the trees, and had improvised a corral by winding several lassoes around the bluff. His own horse was just saddle-loosed and picketed close to the tent. A storm, a genuine North-West electrical storm, was brewing and likely to burst upon us at any moment. The-man seemed peaceable enough, but with a sinister cast of countenance which boded ill to anyone who might venture to interfere with his plans. Accosting him in a genial sort of way, I told him I had a ranch many miles away, was new to the country, and, in fact, had lost my way. A storm was coming up; would MR. MANSEL & GRERN. From a Photo. by F, Norris, Detroit. he be so good as to give mea night's lodging? He in his turn was frank, and invited me to sup with him, saying he was a ranchman in the neighbourhood, and has just come from Mon- tana, where he had been purchasing horses. I thought it was rather a big bunch to buy all at once, but said nothing, saving to ask him what part of Canada Montana was in, and did it go any- where near the Rockies, as I had heard there was some fine big game there, such as eagles and coyotes. He smiled at my verdant ignorance, saying that he thought I had got things a little mixed, but that as we saw more of each other he would tell me all about the country. As I had not yet lost my English accent I was easily able to carry out my part. As he wished to ascer- tain whether the horses were in good condition, he took his lantern from a nail in the tent-pole and invited me to go with him to see his fine new “ pur- chases.” This was just the opportunity I wanted, for I could then compare the brand on the horses with that on his own mount. If they tallied, the natural inference would be that they all belonged to him, unless his horse also was stolen. This, however, was not likely, as a man engaged in so perilous a business as horse- stealing always prefers to have his own trusted and well-trained mount. As we approached the bluff the horses began to whinny for oats, and I asked him if he was going to feed them. He answered that they did not need anything as they had not done any work, but that if my mount needed a feed he was quite welcome to it from Don Pedro’s rations, naming his own steed. While he was baiting Camel (the pet name I had for my mount) I asked permission to step inside the corral in order to see a Montana horse at closer range. He gave me the desired permission, “if I did not mind how soon my brains were kicked out, if I had any.” Nothing daunted, I walked around, and noted at once the difference in the brands, which confirmed my suspicions, if they needed any confirmation, for no man under ordinary circumstances would attempt to herd single-handed a mob of newly-

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MORE QUEER FIXES. 231 acquired strange horses, coming all the way from Montana. After smoking our pipes over the camp-fire he asked me all the questions about England and English customs he could think of, answers to which I gave him. Then we rolled ourselves in our blankets and, bidding each other ‘“‘ good night,” sought a well-earned rest. Notwithstanding my resolve not to close my eyes, I must have fallen into a doze, for the next thing I remember was the storm. The lightning was blinding, the thunder terrific. The horses in the improvised corral were whinnying with fright, and the heavy down- pour had entirely quenched the camp-fire, so that all was dark save for the occasional flashes of lightning, which served only to make the gloom seem more intense. I lay quite still, listening to my companion’s heavy snoring, which told me that neither myself nor the storm had any terror for him. He might have been as innocent of all crime as a babe, so profoundly did he slumber. The munching of my old Camel could be plainly heard ; he was enjoying his oats just as much as though it had been broad daylight. The continual and monotonous swish of the downpour was having a most soothing effect upon me, and I was in danger of falling off into a doze again. It behoved me to rouse myself to action if I wished to accomplish any- thing. A strong point of mine has always been my memory for locality, and it stood me in good stead now. I remembered exactly where my nag was tethered, and as I, too, had left my saddle on, all I should have to do would be to tighten the girths and slip on the bridle. Luckily my weapons were at my side; my host had paid no heed to them, no doubt regarding them as “tenderfoot” playthings. I always carried a knife concealed on my person for emergencies, though it did not belong to the equipment of the force. I needed it now. Being well assured by the regular breathing and occasional snorts from my companion that he was safely in the land of Nod, I lifted the tent-curtain slightly—just enough to roll myself outside. Having accomplished this much I sat upon the soaked ground to gather my wits. I was not long‘in maturing my plans. Creeping on all fours, dragging my carbine after me as trappers do, I approached my steed and, rising suddenly to my feet, startled him so that he had no time to whinny to me as he would otherwise have done. To make certainty doubly certain I pinched his nostrils and put my head against his damp neck, as I was used to do when I wished him to understand that there was some- thing wrong and he must keep quiet. My efforts were successful; he pricked up his ears and stood stock-still. ‘The storm was still at its height, but the rain seemed to be abating. Crash after crash of thunder shook the earth, and the occasional flashes of lightning showed me the corralled horses in mortal terror. I knew that once I got them started in the right direction they would go like the wind. The horse-thief had come from the south-east; my direction to Estevan—a border town where my command- ing officer was stationed—was south-west. * Flinging myself into the saddle, I urged Camel toward the corral and, drawing my knife, cut the ropes on the south-west side of the bluff. Riding around to the opposite side I charged the terror-stricken horses. The effect was instantaneous ; they struggled against each other, heads over backs, in their efforts to be first out and away, and it was not many moments before they were flying in almost a due south-westerly direction, with Camel and _ his rider in hot haste after them. Suddenly I heard a shrill whinny from behind us, and I knew from that moment it was “nip and tuck and the prairie wolves for the loser,” for I had over- looked Don Pedro, who, hearing his mates galloping off, must needs call to them to be taken along. ‘Well, you'll be along in a moment,’ thought J, and, sure enough, presently IT heard the thundering of horse’s hoofs behind me--thud, thud, over the sodden prairie. “Nip and tuck is the word,” I told myself, grimly. The storm still roared and crashed, and the horses still stampeded, with Camel following, while ever nearer drew the sound of the pursuing steed. A sudden flash illumined the situation for a moment, and I glanced over my shoulder. The thief was drawing up inch by inch, and it was only a few moments ere he would be alongside of me. Suddenly there was a report, and a bullet whizzed past my ear. Still we held on our mad career. It was, indeed, a race for life. Another roar from Heaven's artillery, and another opportunity for my foe to take another shot at me. He did not shoot, however, for at that moment he was by my side. In an instant I whipped out my heavy revolver and ordered him to surrender in the Queen’s name. “Only to the devil,” he gnashed, between his teeth. “The same take you, then,” I growled, and we clenched. Luckily, he had ridden up to my left, so that my right arm was free. Quick as a flash I twisted my right leg around the stirrup strap or leggediero of my saddle to prevent him from pulling me off, flung myself at him, and we

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232 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “DRAWING MY KNIPE, | CUT THE ROPES.” swayed to and fro like drunken men. For some unearthly reason he did not shoot when we first came in contact, and I can only explain it on the ground that he rather admired the pluck of the stripling Englishman and never dreamed but that he himself would come off the victor. The thunder roared, the rain came down in a deluge, and again our horses, which a few moments before had almost come to a stand- still, broke into a gallop. As their riders fought and struggled their terror increased. Twice the man managed to get his horny knuckles into my kerchief, but I bruised them so soundly with the butt of my pistol that he relinquished his hold. It was so dark that I could not discern his movements, until a sudden flash showed him standing in his stirrups and towering high above me. Another moment and he would have crushed my skull with the butt of his rifle, but I threw myself back and the stock was shattered on the horn of my saddle. The unexpected often happens. The man lost his balance—he had put such force into the blow—and he fell almost across my horse’s neck. Quick as the recent flash I struck him behind the ear with my pistol and he lay there like a log, stunned. The horses galloped on, but I scarcely realized it, so dazed was I. Presently, drawing them to a standstill, J/ exerted all my

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MORE QUEER FIXES. “CAS THEIR RIDERS FOUGHT AND STRUGGLED THEIR TERROR INCREASED.” strength and transferred my prisoner to his saddle, with his head hanging to one side and his feet dangling on the other. I then hand- cuffed him and, taking Don Pedro’s lead rein, put the horses to a walk. The storm had well- nigh spent itself and daylight was breaking. The stampeded horses had recovered from their Vol. xx.—30. (To be continued). fright and were grazing about a mile ahead, while my own Camel and Don were foam- bedecked and steaming. As the daylight approached ‘I gradually found my bearings, and, getting my little cavalcade in motion, by noon I had prisoner and horses safely landed at Estevan. Digitized by GOOC [@)

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Sport and Adventure in Central Africa. By Major P. H. G. Poweti-Corton. This absorbing account of a memorable journey has been specially and exclusively written for “The Wide World Magazine.’ Major Powell-Cotton, who had already won fame as an explorer, left England in November, 1904, bound on an extended hunting trip in the little-known regions of the Congo Free State, and his tour lasted upwards of two and a half years. Married in Bast Africa in 1905, the Major’s wife has since shared the hardships and dangers of the expedition— surely a unique honeymoon. Major Powell-Cotton has discovered six species of animals previously unknown to science, and has sent home the skin and complete skeleton of the mysterious okapi. His narrative will be found full of incident and interest. . Iv. AKING Makala our head-quarters, ahead. True enough, there were the beasts 1 occasionally went out into the i forest on side expeditions of a few days in search of game. One of my === camps lay about ten hours’ march from the post. The fall of a great creeper-clad tree had made a rift in the forest by the side of a clear, running stream. Cutting away some of the lesser limbs of the giant trunk, the men made room for my tent, while they pitched their own little white cotton shelters, or built —but only two of them—slowly moving along the farther side of the glade, cropping the short, sweet grass. They were male and female, retreating almost side by side, the reddish coat of the cow just showing above the almost black hide of the bull. He had either heard us coming or was very watchful, for he turned his head uneasily now and then to gaze in my direction. A short crawl brought me to the shelter of a big tree-trunk, where I rose to my dome-shaped huts of boughs and leaves, among knee. The right barrel fired at the bull and the trees on either side of the stream. It was a pretty scene, and typical of the forest round Makala. Little shafts of sunlight glistened down through the leaves and lit up the dancing water as it chattered over its bed of mossy stones, or flowed out under a fern-hung trunk that bridged it. This woodland vista is shown in the first photograph re- produced. Early one morning, while I was still at breakfast, a native tracker ran ip, breathless, to say that three buffaloes were feeding twenty minutes’ walk from camp. ‘To slip into a shooting-coat and snatch up the rifles was the work of a moment, and off I started at a trot, with three men at my heels. The narrow track was treacherous from heavy rain and obstructed by fallen trees, but, in spite of many a slip, we quickly found ourselves over the last little stream and in the brush- wood fringe of one of the natural glades, called by the natives “eddos.” Taking from the gun-bearer my ‘400 Jeffery cordite rifle, and signing to them to keep behind, I crept A c N THE FOREST NEAR MAKALA. [Photograph

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SPORT AND ADVENTURE the other at the cow left me wondering what had happened to me or my rifle, for the male, after a short dash forward, pulled up and stood snorting indignation, apparently little the worse, while the cow ‘had disappeared into the under- wood. Quickly reloading I again fired at the bull as he turned to make off, but he, too, plunged out of sight. A patch of brown next caught my eye across the glade. “Is it buffalo?” I whispered to the tracker, arid, as he nodded, I fired. Then cautiously we worked our way through the thick undergrowth where the bull had disappeared, peering along the dark, tunnel-like tracks, pierced in all directions by generations of wandering forest-beasts. Soon we had almost reached the place where Froma. the brown patch was first seen, and I stopped at the edge of the glade to try to penetrate the gloom of a tunnel darker even than the rest. Suddenly there was a rustle of leaves, an angry snort, and a black buffalo, not ten yards away, rushed madly down-hill straight for me. ‘Two reports rang out as quickly as I could move my forefinger. But on the brute came, unchecked. He had all but struck me, when I swerved aside, and he lumbered past. A deep groove in a tree-trunk immediately behind the spot where I had stood showed how near a shave it had been. The tracker and one gun-bearer had mean IN CENTRAL AFRICA. 235 while fled in opposite directions. ‘The buffalo, uncertain whom to pursue, stamped round in fury, to halt at length in a patch of long grass, his stern towards the tree behind which I was rapidly reloading. A shot in the back sent him rushing headlong into the blackness of the forest. The whole incident cannot have occupied more than twenty seconds, but to three at least of us it was quite long enough. A very careful search of the surrounding thickets then began, and it was not long before we discovered our quarry only twenty-five yards away. Another shot brought him to the ground. While I peered about, trying to get a view through the leaves of a vital spot, without coming within range of his short, massive horns, I suddenly became aware of another buffalo (Vhetograph. moving in the bushes behind him. At a shot from the rifle it vanished, while almost at the same moment the bull gave vent to a mighty bellow and rolled over dead. The brown patch I had previously seen proved to be the cow, which had fallen on the spot where she stood. The last beast at which I fired, a yearling calf, had also met its fate, making a bag of three in all. Before long a merry group of men, happy in the thought of meat for supper, arrived from camp. For the rest of the day the eddo presented a busy scene, for the beasts had to be photo- gtaphed—they are seen in the above snap-shot—

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236 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. measured and weighed, the skins preserved, and the skulls cleaned on the spot. Both the male and the female animals were fine full-grown specimens, the bull standing forty-four and a half inches high and weighing five hundred and thirty-six pounds without the intestines, while his mate was only half an inch shorter and weighed four hundred and twenty- four pounds. Makala is the centre of one of the most pro- ductive rubber districts in the Great Forest, and two or three times a week a caravan of men, women, and children will come in, laden with the results of their harvest from trees and vines. As they wind their way from their forest home, headed by their chief and escorted by a forest guard, discordant notes are blown on antelope horns and all chant a monotonous chorus. From a) Long before they reach the station their barbaric music, ever increasing in volume, heralds their approach. The first time the distant sounds met our ears, my wife and I were full of curiosity as to their purport. Was it some special festival among the natives, the sowing of the crops, an important domestic event in a chief’s life, or possibly a mystic invocation from the untamed forest folk to the Supreme Spirit of Nature? Our servants not being able to answer our questions, we hurried over to the Chef de Poste to ask what strange rites could be taking place away among the trees in the far distance. “Oh, it is only my rubber caravan coming in,” we were told. “You will hear them more distinctly as they approach. I cannot yet dis- tinguish from which direction they are coming, A KUBAER CAKAVAN COMING INTO THE GOVEKNMENT POST. but we shall soon know.” And, sure enough, the chant grew gradually louder and louder, till we decided they were approaching the opposite bank of the broad River Lindi. At last the chief appeared out of the dense undergrowth and towering trees into the open clearing on the farther bank, followed by a long line of dark figures, singing lustily. The arrival of the caravan is shown in the next photograph. Immediately there was a stir among the villagers living on the other side, who ran down to the canoes’and began to pack the rubber- carriers in one by one, with a great deal of shouting and gesticulation, above which, how- ever, the chant of the gatherers rose triumphant and ceaseless. As the long dug-out canoes sped over the sparkling waters to the green, banana-fringed bank below the post, the words eae (Photograph. of the refrain, now so loud that its touching, plaintive notes became a discordant din, caught our ears. It merely consisted of three simple sentences, sung over and over again: “ We are coming in to the white man ; we are coming in with rubber; we shall all be given presents.” ‘That was the whole import of their song. The Chef de Poste met them at the beam scale of the station, where the rubber was weighed in the rough baskets in which it was brought, as next shown. Sometimes a chief would exceed the stipulated amount, in which case he was for- bidden to bring in any more for some time. Another chief would bring too little and would be scolded for his laziness. Many a woman would carry a heavy basket of rubber on her back, in addition to her little black baby strapped on heryhip. But the native women

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SPORT AND AUVENTURE IN CENTRAL AFRICA. are a sturdy race, who seem to know little of fatigue. After the rubber has been weighed in all the cares of life are forgotten, for has not the time come for payment? Already in fancy the proud mother is tying the little bells she will get from the white man on to baby’s tiny wrists and ankles. Cloth, salt, soap, beads are among the other most coveted treasures that are given in exchange. Often the proceedings wind up with a wild scramble for bells, and then away rush the rubber harvesters like children out of school, happy in the thought that their work is done, and yelling and shouting at the top of their voices. 237 The next instant a shadowy form burst into his hut and threw itself upon him as he lay in the darkness. Convinced that his last hour had arrived, he shut his eyes and awaited the end. But the beast did not stir! Plucking up courage he belaboured the pant- ing creature with his fists, but at each blow it only clung the tighter. As soon as he realized that it offered no ] resistance he ' overcame his terror, and, put- ting out a cautious hand from the blankets, touched it. To his amaze- ment his fingers came into contact with a warm, human arm! It was no ferocious leopard, _thirsting for his blood, but the wife of his black boy, who in her fright had Though the WEIGHING THE RUBBER ON THE BEAM SCALE. dashed into his denser parts of From a Photograph. house, while her the forest were husband had almost free from leopards, they. were very numerous in some of the clearings inhabited by descendants of the slave-traders. When we were camping near such a settlement a porter, Kasimbazi, was badly mauled in the neck by one of these beasts. He was sitting one even- ing with a friend by his little brushwood fire, enjoying the evening meal, when suddenly there slunk out of the darkness a leopard, whose stealthy approach had not caused the slightest rustle in the undergrowth. Next instant the brute had sprung straight upon the luckless Kasimbazi, fastening its fangs into his neck. His comrade, without a moment’s pause, seized the first missile to hand—a bunch of bananas —and, yelling wildly, hurled it at the animal’s head. Scared by the din, the leopard loosened his grip, and disappeared into the shadows of the forest as quickly as he had come. It was not a moment too soon, for his victim had already several gaping wounds. However, within a surprisingly short time he was carrying his loads again, as sturdy and lively a porter as ever. One evening, while relating this adventure to - a guest, an Italian doctor we had met on our way, he gave us his own leopard experiences. Having retired to rest one night in a lonely camp, he was startled by a sudden uproar and the frenzied cry of “Leopards! Leopards!” climbed on to the roof above ! On our return journey, having lef& the forest behind us, we passed some time near the post of Kasindi. Our camp was pitched on a hill-top overlooking a gleaming stretch of Lake Albert Edward. Here an outbreak of “tick fever” attacked our safari, and soon over twenty men were too ill to move, many of them being delirious. One evening, when my wife was returning to the tent, after attending to the needs of the invalids in the porters’ camp, she suddenly caught sight of a hippo gambolling in the lake below us, close to a little projecting tongue of land. In a moment we were both off at full speed down the hill-side, for the light would soon be fading and no time was to be lost if we were to secure him. Through a marshy bottom we splashed, un- heeding, and hurried along the sandy spit, covered with clumps of bushes and fringed by. reeds and rushes. Every now and then, so rough was the road, we tripped over some stray. root or sank ankle-deep into the sand. At last we reached the spot. Stooping down under the rushes, we crept on to a narrow strip of shell-strewn shore on which the waves dashed with the roar of the sea. But the hippo had vanished. No! there-it was—a little grey patch

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238 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. in the ever-darken- ing waters, about two hundred yards away. I sank on one knee, rifle to shoul- der, my eye glued on the spot where the beast had dis- appeared. Again the hippo rose. A report rang out and the grey patch had sunk suddenly —the bullet had gone home. A few minutes later, beyond a little tuft of wind- tossed reeds to our left, another hippo pushed up his nose to take a breath of the cool evening air. A single. shot, and it also sank out of sight. There was now nothing to do but wait for morning, when, if the animals’ wounds were mortal, their bodies would rise to the surface. And, sure enough, by dawn the men had spied a hippo carcass fluating, and the whole r IMF CUTTING-UP OF THE HIPPOPOTAMUS, From a Photograph. camp was buzzing with excitement, happy at the thought of the coveted hippo fat frizzling on their fires. Nearly the whole safari streamed off down -hill and waded out into the lake to attach ropes of every sort and description to the animal’s legs before they drag- ged it in. And _ lustily they must have sung mean- while, for away up on the hill-side, as we watched the scene from the veranda of our tent, snatches of their chorus were clearly wafted to us. At last the hippo was landed and there she lay, a hideous-looking object, not unlike an unwieldy boiled ham, among the myriads of dainty shells upon the shore. The above picture shows the cutting-up of our prize. A SPLENDID ELEPHANI—HIS LARGEST TUSK WEIGHED A HUNDRED POUNDS. From a Photograph, | |

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SPORT AND ADVENTURE IN CENTRAL AFRICA. 239 Within a few days we were again on the march, making for the southern end of the lake. The safari had gone ahead, and I was following them during the heat of the day with only my syce and gun-bearers. My mule was going lazily, while I was reading the last WiDE Wor.ip which had reached me. Suddenly, close to the path, a movement caught my eye, and, looking up, I saw four huge elephants. I. jumped off my mule, and we followed them as they began to move off, succeeding in singling out the largest elephant, of which I secured a splendid photograph before he fell to my rifle. His largest tusk weighed a hundred pounds. Shortly afterwards we pitched camp in a grand lion country, where bands of them would Ate beast to turn round and show his teeth before moving heavily away, but the succeeding shots were evidently better aimed, for the lion sank down low among the sun-burnt grass as though disabled, and nothing could be seen of him above the level of the plain. From the top of a_ neighbouring tree, however, I managed to discover his hiding-place and to send another bullet home. On receiving this. the lion struggled to his feet, only to throw himself with a muffled growl behind a little bush at the foot of a tree. We passed an hour and a half in patient watching for signs of life in the animal, but it made no movement, so we at last decided to approach. While we cautiously drew nearer the porters amused themselves by flinging THE THREE MEN WHO SAVED THE AUTHOR'S J.1FE WHEN HE WAS ATTACKED BY THE LION IN THE FOREGROUND. From a Photograph. approach so close to us at night that we have even heard them crunching the bones of their victims-—a ghastly experience indeed. But roar as they might from dusk to the first pale flush of dawn, for a long time I entirely failed to get a sight of them in daylight. One morning, a little later than usual, however, a hungry cry made me hurry through my toilet and set off while it was still dark in the direction of the sound. With my gun-bearers and a few porters behind me, I stumbled on in the darkness, guided every now and then by a famished roar. At length, to my delight, we sighted a huge black-maned lion swiftly making his way along a valley towards the thick scrub that fringed the river bank. My first bullet only caused the clots of earth, their sandals, and, finally, a stick at the spot where they fancied the brute was lying. As the stick lit on the bush, up sprang the lion and came forth, full of strength and fury, straight for the terrified man. He naturally turned to join in the flight of his comrades behind him, and the infuriated beast, uttering short, defiant roars, slightly changed his course to dash down on me. Firing the two barrels in rapid succession, I mechanically put out my hand to grasp the other rifle from my gun- bearer behind me. The man was gone! To reload was out of the question, for there was no time. Hurling my empty rifle into the face of the lion—now almost on me—I turned to fly. The next instant the, brute had sprung

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240 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. A NEARER VIEW OF THE LION WHICH NEARLY TERMINATED MAJOR POWELL-COTTON'S CAREER. From a Photograph. upon my back and I was flung violently to the — long enough for a Nubian askari to shoot the ground. Like all the cat tribe the animal. had brute through the heart. gathered its feet together for the spring, so that Happily I had in my pocket some tabloids of _ its claws were fastened in permanganate of potas- my back and -in the in- 5 sium, a solution of which side of my knees. The : my boy washed into my left forepaw tore away the wounds. Then, having clothing under my arm to taken photographs of the get at the flesh, while the lion as he lay in the right, after an attempt to grass, I rode back to rend my body (which camp, two and a half luckily a folded Punch hours’ distant. Though in my pocket prevented), none of the seventeen caught my bare head and wounds I had received endeavoured to drag it were very deep, it was up, no doubt to scoop an anxious time for my out my eyes. My only wife and Commandant recollection was that I Bastien, a Belgian official, shouted frantically to the who nursed me, for one gun- bearers to shoot at can never know for the once without fear of kill- first few days how such ing me, but a simple wounds are likely to be- porter was the first to have. The accompany- come to my aid. With ing photograph shows extraordinary pluck, he the coat I was wearing ran up to the lion and when the lion seized me, showered mighty blows on and you will notice the : { { its forehead with his only A aaa el ae (Piomraph gash made by his claws weapon, a huge knob- behind the shoulder. kerry. A second later the headman joined An old native described to me how he had him, slashing at the animal’s eyes with a hippo- seen this identical lion attack and pull down a hide whip. In this way the two of them full-grown Semliki red buffalo, and the posed distracted the lion’s attention from me just photograph next produced gives a very good EY

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SPORT AND ADVENTURE IN CENTRAL AFRICA. 241 idea of the tragedy according to the man’s account. However, no fever or blood - poisoning resulted, the wounds healed quickly, and before Mombasa towards the shares of Europe, after what I think I may call, from a scientific point of view, a very successful trip. Among the collection of skins and heads which I THE AUTHOR'S LION PULI.ING DOWN A FULL-GROWN BUFFALO—EFSPECIALLY POSED FOR THE CAMERA. very long my wife and I were again off in search of lions. Curiously enough, this lion which had nearly robbed me of my life was the thirteenth I had shot, and the day of the accident was a Friday—facts from which the superstitious will draw their own conclusions. In the month of January last we set sail from brought back, six new specimens have already been named. These comprise a black and white monkey, a black honey badger, a water antelope, a smoke-grey cat, a giant elephant shrew, and a big red buffalo. In addition to this, my wife collected something like eight thousand butterflies. Tue Enp. Vol. xx.—31,

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A Sixty-Thousand-Mile Walk. THE ADVENTURES OF MARK ALL. By Yorick GRADELEY. His resolution fired by the harsh decree that a mechanic is ‘too old at forty-five,’ Mark All, a London working man, aged seventy-two, set out in August, 1900, to walk sixty thousand miles in seven years, and demonstrate the fallacy of the dictum which had cost him his billet. The plucky old pedestrian accomplished his wonderful walk with six months to spare, traversing the United Kingdom and several Buropean countries, and incidentally meeting with adventures which would have daunted many a younger man. ARK ALL, the hero of this narra- tive, was born at Greenwich on the 11th of June, 1828. Whilst yet a @ mere child he was apprenticed to an engineer in that town, and after- wards worked at his trade for thirty years with a firm in Westminster Bridge Road. Devoted to the free, healthy life of the open air and inured from infancy to hard work and strenuous exercise, he had neither time nor inclination to sow the crop of wild oats that many youths regard as quite inevitable. Thus he pursued the even tenor of his way, as a self. respecting, useful British workman—one of a type John Bull does not ap- preciate as he ought—until the devastating strike. that began in London in July, 1897, and was not settled until January 28th, 1898, plunged the engineering trade and its dependent industries into a state of chaos. Mark All was then, to- gether with thousands of his comrades, thrown out of work ; but, on the pro- clamation of peace, he who had been a victim of and not a party to the strike applied for reinstatement. Then came “the most unkindest cut of all,” for the doors were closed against him and against hundreds of his mates. They had committed the sin that could not be forgiven—they had grown old in the service of their masters. And so Mark All went forth to face a relent- less world—an aged man, out of a job. But his — Ww || \ AGE OF SEVENTY - TWO, MARK ALL, THE LONDON WORKING MAN WHO, AT THE THOUSAND MILBS IN SEVEN VEARS. From a Photograph. This authoritative narrative is compiled from the veteran's own diary. L spirit was not broken, his eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated ; and he had found that hope is not the monopoly of the young. “Twill not despair,” he said. “I am old, but I am not worn out. I have health and strength; I have brains and a bag of tools; and with these T can defy the world.” For two years, attended by a brindled bull- dog, ugly as sin but more faithful than many a saint, Mark All tramped the country as a _ jobbing mechanic. For a time he did fairly well, especially in the North of England ; but, alas, he fell on evil days again, for he was powerless to remove those marks of age, more fatal to his hopes even than the brand of Cain. In the summer of 1900 he worked his way back to London as best he could, living from hand to mouth. He was not far from his journey’s end, and his route led him through Epping Forest. Here he sat down on a bank of bracken be- neath a silvery hornbeam and laid his aching head upon the trunk of a prostrate oak—a worn-out monarch of the woods, whose tragic fate the poor wanderer seemed destined soon to share. Never before had Mark given way to despair, but now—tired, penniless, and without prospects— he could not help himself. And yet, though man had been harsh, Nature was kind. She came to him now and wrapped him in the folds of sleep. And while he slept he, like Dick Whittington of old, dreamed a dream. SET OUT TO WALK SIXTY

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A SIXTY-THOUSAND-MILE WALK. 243 And so it came about that on August 6th, 1g00, a white-haired veteran set out from Fleet Street, London, to walk sixty thousand miles within seven years, and thereby prove that. a man is not too old at seventy-two ; that, in fact, no soldier who fights in the battle of life is out of action until he is sorely wounded in the fray. As he sallied forth amid the plaudits of the denizens of Pressland who had gathered round to give him a send-off—and incidentally to turn him into “copy ”—the faded yet strong features of old Mark All were illumined with a great joy. He wore the garb of a British artisan, and upon his arm was fastened a miniature Union Jack. He carried a short blackthorn shillelagh, his sole weapon of defence, and was accom- panied by his dog, whom he had christened “* Business.” A bag containing tools and other oddments completed the outfit of the brave old traveller. The conditions of his “little constitutional ” were such as absolutely to deprive it of the elements of .a pleasure excursion. He was for- bidden to ask for assistance, or even to sell souvenirs or postcards, and he was debarred from seeking refuge at the poor-house. By the labour of his hands he was bound to work his way; and, indeed, his earnings for the six and a half years over which the tour extended totalled two hundred and twenty pounds, whilst voluntary gifts realized one hundred and fifty pounds, so that now he can proudly claim that his enterprise did not cost the ratepayers a single penny. During his trip Mark All has worn out forty- nine pairs of boots and eight suits of clothes, whilst of socks he has lost all count. Raisins constituted his staple diet whilst on foot; a pound of these would keep him going for days.. Yet, when funds allowed, he enjoyed at the close of a long day’s jaunt a steak or chop, a glass of beer, and « pipe—for, above all things, he is an Englishman. I do not propose to describe his itinerary in detail, but to confine my narrative to those incidents in his journey which are flavoured with the spice of adventure. Mark All has visited again and again all parts of the United Kingdom, and penetrated into’ almost every country in Europe except Russia, and his average daily tramp (he did not walk on Sundays) was nearly forty miles. After traversing England, Wales, and Scot- land, he made up his mind that he would try his luck across the water, and accordingly he contrived to work his passage to Hamburg. Here, indeed, he was a stranger in a strange land. Yet, though ignorant of any but his mother tongue, he soon found out that that same mother tongue is, in a sense, the language of the world—a language more universal than Esperanto will ever become. At Hamburg Mark All obtained temporary employment, sufficient to enable him, with his unfailing canine bodyguard, to continue his journey to the sister port of Bremen, on the Weser, beneath whose lordly towers he found a haven where he might remain for many days. Pocketing his Union Jack, not because he was ashamed of it, but because he realized that employers wanted, not champion walkers, but hard workers, he obtained employment at the dockyards, For a time all went well, though some of the German dock labourers looked with ill-concealed suspicion and dislike upon the taciturn old Englishman, and every now and then they peppered him with irritating taunts. He controlled his temper, however, until one day, as the men were leaving work together, a burly Teuton navvy, who had spent a couple of years in the East India Docks, took the opportunity afforded by his fragmentary know- ledge of English to insult Mark and _ his nationality in terms no self-respecting man could endure. -He did not finish his tirade, for Mark, with his British blood at boiling-point, raised his fist and struck out, sending the astonished German spinning away, to presently measure his length upon the ground. But the veteran’s triumph was but short-lived. Pulling himself together, and spluttering fearful oaths and threats, the navvy rushed madly at the Englishman. The assembled crowd of workmen and hangers-on, whom surprise had thrown off their guard, also realized all of a sudden that their honour was at stake. Yelling with rage, they picked up stones, bricks—anything they could lay their hands on —and ‘hurled them at their English workmate. He, yielding to superior force, took to his heels, with an angry, ever-swelling mob giving chase. “It’s Mark All, the English walking man,” shouted somebody, and then the flames of public wrath raged more fiercely than ever, for the oil of national jealousy had been poured upon them now. At that time the long-distance pedestrian record was held by a native of Germany, who had covered forty thousand miles, and, therefore, the announcement of an Englishman’s determination to beat their compatriot’s achievement had provoked some- what Anglophobish comments in the Yellow Press of that country. By this time a perfect fusillade of missiles was hurtling round the fugitive’s head. His

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244 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. * face was so horribly cut that he carries the marks to this day, and blood flowed freely. Presently a large stone caught Mark full upon the brow, and with a groan he collapsed uncon- scious, while the mob hurried up exultantly to wreak further vengeance upon him. But help was close at hand! An angry growl, followed by a soul-stirring bark, rose above the shouting of the crowd, and a moment later a bulldog, with a face ugly and fierce enough to frighten a regiment of dragoons, dashed wildly round the corner of the street. ‘The ruffians, deem- ing that discretion was, in this case, the better part of valour, first hesi- tatedand then fled; while Business— for he it was and no other — threw himself upon the prostrate form of his master, whining piteously. No one at- tempted to assail the old man now; it would have been an easier task to rob a lioness of her whelps. As a matter of fact, in less than the twinkling of an eye the street was quite de- serted, and had. it not been for the dog’s instinc- tive recognition of their uniform the police who presently came to the rescue would have had some difficulty in approaching the injured man to remove him to the hospital. Even the great kindness he received at this institution could not overcome the repugnance Mark All now conceived for Bremen. His patriotism had been commendable, but its consequences disastrous indeed ; so one morn- ing, very early, an old man with a curiously patched-up face, and a dog to whose face no amount of patching-up could make much difference either way, silently stole from the town. The two travellers bent their course towards the south, resting together by the wayside and sharing each other’s food and drink. Together they crossed the German frontier, and, amid the pleasant cornfields and vineyards of sunny France, the light of brighter days seemed to have dawned at last. It was just about the time when the blessed entente cordiale was bind- ing England and her old-time enemy with the golden cords of friendship. Therefore, not only in the towns, but also in the rural parts, "A BULLDOG DASHED WILDLY ROUND THE CORNER.” the interesting old wayfarer and his dog were welcomed, just because they were both English. The Union Jack was quite enough to rouse the enthusiasm of the peasantry, and Mark is never weary of expressing his gratitude for the kindly ‘hospitality and unstinted encouragement ex- tended to him by all classes. Often, when his advent into a village had been heralded, it would be seized upon as an excuse for a little impromptu festival ; for the gay Frenchmen—unlike our own matter-of-fact countrymen—are ever in gala mood. They will make a /ée out of anything, if only they get the chance. So “ Monsieur Marquau et,son chien,” as the

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A SIXTY-THOUSAND-MILE WALK. 245 pair were styled, were hailed in regal fashion with flags and bunting and sometimes floral arcs de triomphe, and, whilst dainty little maidens strewed roses and lilies along their path, they were conducted to the village café and féted there with merry dance and song. Thus for a time the old man’s pilgrimage was like a delightful triumphal march, and when at last Marseilles was reached and Mark obtained his first view of the blue Mediterranean, he felt that his cup was indeed running over. Here he obtained employment, and halted for many days. After leaving this place, however, the clouds began to gather thick and fast. The faithful dog had some months previously sustained a slight injury to his right foreleg, and Mark had very skilfully and tenderly bound up the wound, but now the rough and stony roads severely tried him. Tramping over the plateau of pebbles, as one traveller describes it, that stretches for many miles between Marseilles and Arles, the poor animal’s feet became so sore and blistered that he could no longer scamper gaily ahead, describing circles round his master, as he had been wont to do. He bravely struggled on, however, for the spirit was willing though .the flesh was weak ; so weak, indeed, that he could only limp painfully along. “Come, come,” pleaded Mark, as, for the dog’s sake, he cried a halt by the wayside. “ Don’t give in, mate; try and bear up till we reach a town where we can have you seen to.” But Business could only look up piteously. “T’ll do my best ; I can’t do more,” he seemed to say. Then the grief-stricken master gently raised his faithful friend and carried him in his arms. But at last he, too, grew weary, and beneath the comforting shade of one of the umbrella palms that abound in the South of France they both lay down to rest. Poor old Business had now completely lost the use of his limbs. Mark tenderly bathed his blistered feet with water from a stream hard by, and tried to improvise a kind of rude bandage. A weird but tender gleam of grati- tude shone for a moment in the eyes of the devoted creature; then, rubbing his old head against his master’s face, he gave one mournful farewell whine—and died ! Mark, bending over him, was unable to realize that he had lost him for ever. Raising the body in his arms again, he plodded sorrow- fully on. For twenty-four hours he carried the dog thus; then, realizing at last the futility of his efforts, he dug a grave in the corner of a field close by a little plantation, and, with swimming eyes, laid him there to rest. Rolling the flattest stone he could find over the grave, he scratched thereon this epitaph :— Here lies Business, the friend of Mark All, Who tramped 21,000 miles without flinching. He died 29th July, 1902. “ Faithful unto death.” It may be that, if you visit this part, you will see the quaint tombstone still. ‘Through- out the remainder of his tour Mark carried round his neck the picture of his bulldog, over * which was printed his motto, “ Follow who can.” A few weeks after his bereavement the solitary traveller returned to his native land. He put in at London “for repairs,” and having duly reported himself at the General Post Office, in accordance with his original agreement, set out again for the North of England. He worked his way into the English Lake District, arriving there during the rainy season. Not very long afterwards he was trudging over the weird fells that lead to Shap. This route, though away from the beaten track frequented by the ordinary tourist, is one of the grandest in all Lakeland. One evening, with a massive boulder as _ his festive board, he sat down to his frugal repast. Presently two tramps — ragged, filthy, and dissolute-looking—passed by. ‘They paused for a moment, and made as though they would speak to Mark; but a wagon laden with hay appeared round a bend of the Shap road and, with a start of surprise somewhat akin to alarm, the two men sauntered slowly onward. It was evident they were “on the make”; such modern knights of the road generally are. It is quite a mistake to suppose that the high- wayinan is obsolete in England ; he has lost the romance to which Time has lent enchantment, but he is still with us. When he had banqueted to his purse’s extent, if not to his heart’s content, Mark All resumed his journey. And now the shades of night gathered round, but he was not afraid. By and by, however, he heard the sound of stealthy footsteps coming towards him. “They are gathering in the sheep upon the moorlands,” he said, but, turning round to reassure himself, he saw three men advancing towards him. “TI don’t quite like the look of them,” he muttered, “ But if they overtake me I suppose I must be as civil as Ican. I shall have to put up with their company, though I’d rather have their room.” And he marched on, quickening his pace. The men, knowing that they had been observed, soon overtook him.

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246 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “ Reckon you'll be going our way, guv’nor ?” said one of the tramps. “Pals is pals, you know,” and he placed a hand familiarly upon the old man’s shoulder. But Mark stood on his dignity and petalantly shook himself free from the stranger’s grip. “I’m not the counter of a four-ale bar,” he said. “Who said as you was, Methuselah?” retorted the fellow, insolently. : “There’s no need for you to lean on me; that’s all.” “Oh, keep yer ‘air on, guv'nor! You can’t, though ; it’s all fallen off. No offence meant, beggin’ yer parding.” “It’s not much good your begging anything here, mister, I’m thinking.” “That may be,” said the tramp, with an ugly “ grimace. ‘But there's other ways of getting what we wants, ain’t there, Tom?” “What?” shouted Mark, grasping his stick firmly in his right hand, in readiness for any emergency. “ Look ere,” said Tom, with a leer. “Let's be reasonable and talk things over as betwixt man and man. Me and my mates knows who you are, for we’ve watched yer, and you ain’t up to this ’ere walkin’ game for nothing—'tain’t human nature to. If yer likes we'll take yer into partnership—share and share alike. ‘That’s fair, ain’t it, Bill?” “Aye, aye; them’s exactly my sentiments,” exclaimed Bill. ‘What say you? Look ’ere; me an’ my mates ain’t ’ad a smoke for ages. Let’s ‘ave a look at yer pouch for a start.” “Well,” said Mark, “you're welcome to what I’ve got,” and he handed over his pouch, for, undesirable associates though he conceived these men to be, his natural instinct of hospitality would not permit him to be downright churlish. “Well, dad,” said Tom, “and what do you say to the partnership? Are you game?” “Go into partnership with you?” queried Mark, who was amused rather than interested by the proposal. “What for—to float a gold- mine, or run a tinned meat trust, or what ?” “Well, it’s just this ere way, guv’nor. When we spots a crib worth cracking you can go first and reconnoitre, as they says in the Army. You'll spin your fairy yarns about this ’ere walkin’ game o’ yourn and find out ’ow the land lies, and keep folks busy while Bill an’ me comes along an’ does all the dirty work. There’s a ’eap of brass to be made at the job, an’ so long as there's fowls in the farmyards we've never no need to starve, though times ’as bin bad lately. You'll live like a bloomin’ swell, dad, and take yer share of the swag without none of the risks.” Mark All's disgust and indignation upon hearing this proposition knew no bounds. It was impossible to mistake the import of this conversation. He who had gloried all his life long in his integrity had just been insulted by deliberate overtures from a gang of thieves of the most depraved description. “Out of my way! Out of my way!” he cried, angrily, and walked rapidly on. But the ruffians overtook and confronted him again. “Half a mo!” said Bill, who was evidently the leader. “You ain't a-goin’ to snub yer pals like that. If you won’t join us of yer own free will, you shall share with us whether yer will or not. Open yer bloomin’ bag.” “Out of my way !” shouted Mark once more. “Open that bag, you miserable old miser,” repeated Bill, savagely ; “you ain’t carryin’ it about the country for nothing. What! yer won’t dub up? Then we'll pretty soon make yer! We're five to one, old chap.” He blew a whistle,and two more men sprang from a thicket. Rushing forward they wrenched the bag from Mark’s shoulders, whilst Bill covered him with a revolver. Even then the old hero was not afraid This was not the first revolver that had been levelled at him. By a quick forward movement he managed to deal such a blow with his stick on the ruffian’s hand as to make him drop the weapon with a yell of pain. The man was young and active, however, and quickly re- covered. Seizing the revolver by the barrel, he brought down the butt-end on Mark’s skull with such terrible force that the poor old champion fell senseless to the ground. The dastardly wretches eagerly investigated the contents of the bag, but they sought in vain for the treasure-trove they had fondly imagined would be hidden there. They found the old man’s note-book and his tools, but nothing more. The thieves then stripped their victim, discovering a penny and a halfpenny—the sum total of his hoard. Disappointment and rage goaded them to the lowest depths of brutality. | Uttering frightful oaths, they kicked the senseless body, and left it there to become, for aught they cared, a corpse. Packing up everything they considered . marketable, they decamped. When, after the lapse of many hours, Mark All returned to consciousness he fancied just for a moment that he was really in heaven. The dawn of day had suffused the fells with what seemed to him “ the light that never was on sea or land”; he could feel as well as hear the music in the air, and the loveliest child he had ever seen was bending overshim.

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A SIXTY-THOUSAND-MILE WALK. 245 ‘“ME BROUGHT DOWN THE BUTT-END 0} She was only a golden-haired lassie of twelve, the daughter of a poor farm labourer; but she was Mark’s good angel then. “Oh!” she cried, clapping her hands as soon as he opened his eyes, “I am so glad—so glad! Poor old man ! I was sure that you would come to life again; I have been asking God to bring you back. Oh, I am so glad—so very glad!” Skipping over the fells like a chamois, very early that summer morn, she had found the old man lying there. She drew nigh, and, assuring herself that the stranger lived, made him drink from a milk-can she was carrying, She tore her pinafore into shreds, and with these and the Union Jack that lay by the injured man’s side she made bandages and bound his wounds. Then, in her pretty, childish way, she coaxed him back to consciousness. “Oh, but you are very poorly yet,” she said, presently ; “ you must come home with me. I am going to fetch father to you. Don’t be afraid ; I’m not going to leave you ; I’ll be back again very soon, and father will come with me.” MARK'S SKULL.” Then she scampered off, but soon returned as she had promised, and Mark was borne off to her father’s home. He will never forget with what loving care those humble cottagers nursed him back to health once more. And Mark All was avenged. The ruffians whose cruelty had well-nigh cost him his life were: captured by the police and sentenced to “six months’ hard ” apiece. Up to a certain point Mark All’s tour was so profitless from a financial point of view as to lead him to lament. For the hundredth time since the start he was “stony broke,” but the Newmarket races were on, and with his bundle on his shoulder he mingled in that strange and picturesque stream of humanity that always flows towards a race-course, classic or otherwise. A few miles from the town there was a slight commotion in the throng as a stately motor-car, without a register number, glided along the road. _ All at once the car pulled up and a gentleman alighted. Approaching the jbewildered Mark,

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248 who—easily identified by his miniature flag — was trudging wearily along the dusty road, he asked :— “Ts your name Mark All?” “Yes, sir.” “Come this way, then.” Now, Mark looked upon all motor-cars with acertain amount of suspicion. More than one motorist had endeavoured to trap him into accept- ing a “friendly lift,” thereby breaking his pedestrian compact. He waived his objec- tions on this occasion, however, and _fol- lowed the stranger. When they arrived at the bend in the road where the car had halted, Mark be- came suddenly con- vulsed with nervous agitation. There could be no mistake about it ; Mark knew in an instant that the genial English gentle- man before him, seated in the car, was indeed the King of England! He had had thrust upon him an honour coveted in vain by thousands of the wealthy and illustrious ; and all because King Edward is likewise the King of sportsmen throughout the world. . Quick as lightning Mark uncovered, and with a quaint yet courtly reverence—whose sincerity, at all events, no practised courtier could pos- sibly have surpassed—he bowed his venerable head. The road, which makes some men rogues, had made Mark All a geptleman. The King smiled—that magic smile that wins the hearts of all upon whom it has ever shone. | “Are you Mark All?” he said. “Tam, your Majesty.” “The old man I have read about who has undertaken a very long tramp for the sake of his fellow-workmen ?” “Yes, your Majesty,” answered Mark. “Then tell me how you are getting on,” commanded the King. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “TARE YOU MAKK ALL?" SAID THE KING.” And then Mark quite forgot that he was in the presence of Royalty, as he chatted freely and with perfect ease about his adventures. “T said I’d do it, your Majesty,” he concluded, “and, God helping me, I will.” “Upon my word, I believe you will, too,” said the King, with a merry twinkle in his eye, “and I certainly hope you will. You are a very brave old veteran, and I hope to see you as soon as you have finished your tour. You are a credit to the flag you are wearing, and the working men of England ought to be proud of you.” Then the King cordially shook hands with Mark and whispered to his equerry, who straightway handed to the joyful old man two glittering golden miniatures of His Majesty. Several gentlemen of the party followed suit, and Mark went on his way rejoicing, hardly knowing whether he stood on his head or his heels. (To be concluded.)

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_ College Secret Societies in America. By Pau. NIXON, LATE OF THE WESLEYAN UNIVERSITY, CONN., U.S.A., AND A Ruopes SCHOLAR AT OXFORD. A brightly-written account of some of the weirdly-named secret societies which exist in connection with various American Universities. Initiation into their mysteries is a nerve-racking and temper- trying ordeal, as the author’s own experiences show. Sometimes the ‘‘joke” is carried too far, and distressing tragedies occur. OURISTS from Europe are mot infrequently somewhat surprised at seeing in one of the big shopping streets in Boston a man of fairly intelligent countenance and unde- niable stature clad in a “Little Lord Fauntleroy ” suit, and lisping to passers-by, ‘ Hath ’oo theen my nursey?” The tourist’s wonder at American juvenility is not decreased when at the next corner he beholds a short, fat man arrayed in the long, white dress of babyhood, a bib under his chin, and a fetching infantile bonnet on his head, intently sucking at a nursing-bottle - removed only to allow passage for an occasional and doleful ‘‘ Boo-hoo-hoo-o-o!” as he toddles along the side-walk. Wonder at American youthfulness is apt to give place to disgust at American impertinence when the visitor later witnesses a man, attired in clothes that a self- respecting tramp would scorn, a tin can fastened round his neck bya string, and fragments of bread bulging from his pockets, calmly apply a couple of beer-bottles to his eyes in lieu of a lorgnette as a lady passes, and jauntily remark, “Ah, there you are!” By the time the tourist has reached a fourth man, faultlessly clad in frock suit and high hat, who is gravely walking round and round a per- ambulator, stopping his laudable pursuit only to fall on all fours and bark whenever a dog passes him —by this time, I say, the traveller is either meditat- ing departure from this Bedlam or is convinced Vol. xx.—32. From a) that the phenomena have some abnormal cause. Had he looked a little more carefully he would have noticed that each of these anomalous beings had one or two male attendants who seemed to find a grim joy in their charges’ antics, and who varied these antics as soon as they became monotonous. If the tourist walks by somewhat later in the afternoon he will see the fourteen-stone Lord Fauntleroy sitting in the gutter making mud-pies ; the baby-boy will be smearing his face with a stick of candy and flying a toy balloon; the tramp will be pathetically telling the gathering crowd how he sank to his present profession ; and the “swell” in the frock- coat will be walking to and fro crooning toa negro baby which he carries in his arms. And any citizen will be able to tell the foreigner that the mummery has to do with initiation into

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250 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. CANDIDATES FOR THE “KAPHA GAMMA" SoCIRTY—PART OF THEIR ORDEAL CONSISTS IN PARADING THE STREETS IN THE From a) some Harvard secret society ; that the performers are candidates for the final ordeal of initiation ; and that their guardians are members of the society appointed to see that the probationers evince a proper amount of self-abasement and subjection. Almost every University in the States has a number of fraternities designated by a combina- tion of Greek letters which stand for something never of vast importance to the welfare of humanity, never divulged to the vulgus profanum, and sel- dom long remembered by the initiates themselves. Usually these fraternities have houses in which their members live during their four years of resi- dence at the University, and it is in the associa- tions thus formed that the abiding value of the fraternity system is found. In order to bring the members of — different fraternities together, each of the four classes (I’resh- man, Sophomore, Junior, and Senior) often has one or two societies, also Greek- lettered and mysterious, and elections to these Prom al RIDICULOUS COSTUMES SHOWN. “DELTA KAPEA EPSILON (Photograph. societies are offered by its members to the men of the succeeding year who seem most desirable. If these men accept the election—and they almost invariably do, since membership means pleasant times and a certain amount of éc/at— their endurance of contumelious treatment is thoroughly tested for a long time before the actual initiation takes place. If the candidates be Freshmen their patience EVAN UNIVERSITV—PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT 15 A “ DBLTA war.” [Photugraph.

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COLLEGE SECRET SOCIETIES IN AMERICA. and humility must e3 be boundless, for they are at once assigned to Sopho- more members of the society—and a Sophomore, as a Freshman’s_ task- master, displays a heartlessness that would have done credit to the Biblical Egyptians. The life of an English “fag” at a public school is luxurious in com- parison with that of a class society pro- bationer. Any feat, however ridiculous, undignified, or diffi- From a} THE, cult, must be per- formed by him at his master’s bidding. His submissiveness must be limited only by his tyrant’s ingenuity in devising discomforts—and there are times when that ingenuity seems infinite. One Sophomore Sybarite in an American college insisted on being awakened each morning by his victim’s plaintive melodies on a guitar, and when once awakened he was matutinally presented with a huge bouquet by his kneeling ‘“adorer.” Another facetious second-year man compelled his unhappy protégé to get up at two o’clock on a winter’s morning and build a fire in one fraternity house, carrying the coals in a spoon from another house ! THE MOUSE OF THE From a\ “BOOK AYP SNAKE THIS SOCIETY EXIST. “(PSE UPSILON ™ FRATERNITY HOUSE. (Photograpr 1 have no trouble in remembering one occasion when for a quarter of an hour I was made to declare my violent attachment for the figure in a lady-costumier’s window and to lay my hand and heart at her (or its) feet. Quite fortuitously, of course, it happened to be in the main street of the city, and by the time I was well under way the crowd was embarrassingly large and very appreciative. Any lack of fire and fluency and any levity on my part, I recollect, was promptly remedied by the appli- cation of what is known as the “ paddle” upon my anatomy, the “paddle” being a_highly- refined instrument of torture resembling a miniature cricket-bat. On a cold day especially its effect is peculiarly enlivening, yet sobering. So, during some weeks of proba- tion, the wretched Freshman is kept grovelling, at times choking down his rebellious anger with difficulty, and always buoyed up in his distress by the anticipation of “next year,” when “the other fellow” will be in Aés place, and he himself in the place of his present Grand Inquisitor. When the initiation proper begins, all previous inconveniences, however, are apt to be forgotten. It was a bitterly cold night when my own Freshman initiation took place. Some fifteen of us had been summoned by notes written in “ blood ” to appear in the great corridor of the main dormi- tory. There we were blindfolded,

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252 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. YORK HALL, YALE, THE HEAD-QUAKTEKS OF A WELL-KNOWN FRATERNITY. From a Photograph. sacks were tied over our heads, and then we were re-christened and were commanded to answer all questions as to our identity with the new names. My own name, I learned with no great satisfaction, was “ Freshie Please-hit-me-hard-and-often, sir.” I was fre- quently tempted to change it. Then we were submitted, for the good of our souls, to the tender mercies of all the upper-class- men who cared to exercise a paddle or who had a grudge against any of us. It is quite startling to discover how many enemies one has under such conditions. I do not purpose to dis- cuss the intel- lectual, ethical, and physical bene- ficence of a series of somersaults down a_ corridor while a shower of paddle - blows falls on the uppermost THE ALPH From a) | part of one’s periphery; but the most con- fident apostle of the dignity of man cannot deny that its temporary effect is very exhila- rating, both for the victim and for his torturer. Naturally, we couldn’t at once profit fully by any moral lessons to be drawn from our situations, but it did en- courage quick thinking and rapid action to be made conscious that the longer one took for a turn the better was the: paddle’s chance. When the college body at large had dallied with us long enough to satiate all venom—except ours—we were requested to climb certain trees in the campus, the paddles imparting added motive-power during our ascent. After our masters had finished their deliberations we were allowed to come down, and then, having been formed in lock-step like convicts, we were marched through the snow for some ten miles into the country. By the time we had covered this distance every stinging blow had quadruple its normal effect. Our supervisors apparently never tired of the game, however; time and again we were on the point of trying to prove on their persons just how funny the joke was, and then the moment of temptation would pass and we would swallow bad language, think of next year, and plod on doggedly. Finally the procession was stopped at what, from the sound, appeared to be some building. One by one we were invited to climb a ladder, that, seemingly endless, rose at an angle of about fifteen degrees, thus being convenient for the surpassing delivery of the most painful “ pad- dling” of the evening. It was extremely NPWERFUL FRATEENTTIRS Ix ANE STATES,

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COLLEGE SECRET SOCIETIES IN AMERICA. “(HR WAS SWUNG BACKWARDS AND FORWARDS, THE VELOCITY AND DISTANCE OF HIS PLIGHT GRADUALLY BECOMING GREATER AND GREATRK.’

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254 THE WIDE exasperating, this blindfolded clamber up that ladder; one could not well go fast, yet the weight and precision of those smacks urged haste. After an unconscionably long period of climbing one received a particularly hearty whack which instilled a desire hastily to reach the next rung—but the rung was not there, and one found oneself taking several turns in the air before landing, somewhat excited, on a hay- mow. No time was given us to recover. We were carried, pushed, or paddled, according as we were exhausted, feeble, or stubborn, up a number of staircases and ladders, and one by one wefe fastened to a rope and tackle and pushed off a platform whose location seemed to be in the neighbourhood of Mars. ‘The celerity with which we covered the many feet from cross-beam to sub-cellar was amazing ; so amazing that most of us lay breathless, on our arrival, attempting to co-ordinate ourselves ; but we were not long left gasping, for the next instant a handful of clammy, snaky stuff was thrust down our throats and a stern voice bade us “swallow the entrails of the sacred phvenix.” We later discovered, by the way, that the “entrails ” were merely sliced oysters, though at the time earthworms would have seemed a delicacy by comparison. There are many ways of evoking a blindfolded man’s terror, and American students have rare powers of selection in such a matter. ‘“ Branding,” “walking the plank” from the side of a boat modes of mystification and horrifying might be multiplied indefinitely. At Cornell, I believe it was, they used to have the pleasant custom of tying a rope around an initiate’s waist and dangling him from a bridge over a deep gorge at whose bottom ran a swift black stream. Some few feet above the water, at the end of one hundred or more feet of rope, he was swung backwards and forwards, the velocity and distance of his flight gradually becoming greater and greater. It proved too dangerous a test, however, for sometimes the man fainted. At a Southern University the blindfolded men were once carried they knew not where, and finally were told to step high, since they were going up a flight of stairs. ‘They stepped high, and the next instant found themselves shooting head over heels down a spiral canvas fire-escape from the top of a lofty building. ‘Their remarks on landing, I am told, were somewhat broken and disjointed. It would be easy to write a sensational article on these initiations. Many ghastly tragedies WORLI) MAGAZINE. have resulted from lunatic attempts to test a candidate’s “nerve.” At a Western college, some time ago, a blindfolded man was tied one night to the railroad metals and left there. The intention of the society inquisitors was to steal up to him a moment before the arrival of a certain express train, cut him loose, and drag him away just as the engine should seem to him about to pass over his body. An unexpected special train preceded the express while they were absent, and the ensuing calamity left sadder and wiser men in that particular University. Another dangerous practice, at an Eastern college, was similarly abandoned because of a fatality. It had been the custom for the society members to take blindfolded initiates up a river in a launch and toss them overboard at the end of arope. One man who could not swim was dragged back too late. ‘Tne dangerous features of initiations are now pretty well eliminated, however ; the temporary preference for eating one’s meals from a mantel- piece and a humbled, chastened spirit are the only effects of one’s “ morning after.” It is on the friendships formed among these members, as I have already stated, that the real strength of the fraternity system lies. This was evinced by the devotion that glorified the horrors of a recent fire which destroyed a fraternity house at Cornell University. A Cornell man who was there at the time told me the story. Five members of the society were asleep in the building when the fire occurred, and only two of them were found and taken out by the firemen. Once outside, these two men regained conscious- ness and learned that their three “brothers” were still inside the blazing, tottering house. Before they could be stopped, they rushed back through the smoke and flames that daunted even the experienced, protected firemen. A few moments later, during a temporary lull, several firemen followed on their track and dragged back to the open air two fearfully-burnt, uncon- scious men. Clearly there was no help for them. Reverently they were laid on the snow in the centre of a crowd of collegians, who sobbed and cried like children. The two “brothers” re- covered consciousness only to die in agony, but even in that agony their last thought was for others—for the friends who stood about them weeping and for those whom they had been unable to save. ‘Don’t mind about us fellows. Don’t mind ; we did all we could,” gasped one of them. The other feebly echoed the words, and both passed away.

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MUN SAMI’S) REVENGE. A Story of the Natal Sugar Plantations. By PercivaL LANCASTER. y, AS Cp Concerning this tragic. narrative the author writes: “I was at Shepstone, Natal, in the employ of the Government, when the affair. happened. people concerned quite intimately, with the exception of the unfortunate De Vaux. I know all the I went over all the ground mentioned, was in court during the trial, and witnessed the execution.” “ IRE ND just see what the white brute 4 ny did to my back to-day,” said Mun i ia ee Sami, the coolie, to a sympathizing POW2.Ma| circle of his fellows, as he pulled ~ aside his dirty robe at the shoulder, displaying a series of wide blue weals cut across his back, which had evidently been made by that terrible instrument, the rhinoceros-hide ‘“sjambok.” It was some cdnsiderable time past midnight of the 2nd of June, 1904, and the speaker was seated with a dozen or so others of his kind on the floor of a reed hut situated on the coolie location belonging to one of the large sugar- mills in the south of Natal. Mun Sami was only a unit of the many thousand low-caste Hindus who had been brought from India to work for seven years on the sugar plantations scattered all over the colony, the said coolies having been imported owing to a shortage in the native or Kaffir labour. As a rule, these men, although obliged to work from very early morning until late at night, were fairly contented with their lot, but Mun Sami and his companions seemed to have a grievance of some kind, the result being that they were spending the short period allowed them for sleep in discussing the matter; and from the expression on their faces an onlooker would have gathered that considerable trouble was brewing for somebody. The reason for it all was this. On this particular plantation some seven hundred to eight hundred coolies were em- ployed. These men were, of course, divided up into gangs, and over every gang an overseer was set. Indeed, the whole system was very similar to that in vogue in the Southern States of America prior to the Civil War. It so happened that some time before this the overseer of the gang in which Mun Sami and his friends worked had died—in a rather mysterious manner, be it said. j In his place a young Mauritian Creole named De Vaux was appointed, and it was this indi- vidual whom the Hindu had referred to as “the white brute.” It was the man’s first experience with coolies, and, as a matter of fact, he had not the slightest notion how to deal with them. He only knew that the overseer of a gang obtained a small bonus for the amount of cane cut above a certain quantity, and he had made up his mind to earn as large a bonus as possible. Consequently, the coolies were not allowed a single moment’s rest during the day, and if any man shirked his work or flagged in his efforts, that man’s shoulders made prompt acquaintance with De Vaux’s “ sjambok.” So it came about that De Vaux’s gang had become more and more sullen every hour that passed, and more resolved than ever on revenge of some sort. The crisis had arrived that very day. Mun Sami and his friends had been slaving the whole morning with De Vaux’s dreaded whip threaten- ing them, and they were all thoroughly worn out. About midday De Vaux walked away to inspect another gang. Directly he was out of sight the tired men dropped their cane-knives and sat down for a much-needed rest. De Vaux had, however, some idea of what might happen directiy his back was turned, so he quickly retraced his steps and came upon the gang from behind a patch of sugar-cane in the opposite direction to which he had gone. At sight of him the coolies sprang to their feet and feverishly resumed work. But all to no purpose, for the Mauritian had caught sight of them as quickly as they had seen him. Livid with rage, the overseer stepped up to the nearest man—who, as it happened, was Mun Sami—and struck him repeatedly over the shoul- ders with the hide “sjambok” until the man’s clothes «were cut from his back and he lay howl- ing for mercy at the overseer’s feet. There was no mercy for the poor wretch, however, for De Vaux flogged him as he lay upon the ground until he could no longer wield his terrible weapon for sheer weariness.

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256 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. When the overseer. glanced up from the prostrate form at his feet he encountered a group of savage, snarling faces, and observed that the cane-knife was tightly grasped in every native’s hand. Whatever his faults may have been, De Vaux was no coward. He strode up to the mad- dened men and threat- ened them with a dose of “sjambok” unless they returned to work at once. For a moment his life hung upon a thread ; but presently the coolies, one by one, returned sullenly to their labours. De Vaux did not know, however, ‘that his death was decreed from that very hour, nor that, go where he would, he could never now escape the vengeance he had called down upon him- self by his harshness, in- justice, and severity. It was this matter that the coolies were discuss- ing as they sat round a tiny wood fire in the centre of their hut that night. “The curse of Siva be on him |i for evermore,” growled a man from the deep shadows. “How long, brothers, is this thing to be allowed to- con- tinue? Since this badmash has been set over us we have never known one moment's peace. Nearly every one of us can show the marks of the white man’s whip.” And he drew a skinny forefinger along the edge of his cane- knife to test its sharpness, then looked up at his fellows with a sinister gleam in his bloodshot eyes. “Tt can go on no longer,” answered Mun Sami. “Are we dogs that this Feringhee should beat us with his whip? Nay, he is no Feringhee even, but only half black and half white. Is such a one to treat us as he does and not taste of our vengeance? Surely not, brothers.” “No, that he shall not,” ejaculated the oldest man of the party, a short and very lean Hindu, “ye ENCOUNTERED A GROUP OF SAVAGE, SNARLING PACES.” all with grey hair and beard. “He has struck us for the last time to-day, and this very night he shall die. We cannot kill him in the open field, for we should certainly be discovered, but we can go to his bungalow to- night, and if we are cautious and quiet nobody will ever know how he came by his death, nor who it was that killed him. I shall not go with you; I am too old and feeble for work of that kind. But do you go,” he con- tinued, “and make an end of the bad- mash. Let Mun Sami deal the death- blow, for he has been the greatest sufferer. He shall lead you to the white man’s house, arfd you shall do as he tells you, for it will be Mun Sami’s ‘party.’” And the wizened old man threw back his head in a wheezing chuckle. “‘ Above all, be careful that he makes no sound, for that would be- tray you. If you are prudent, suspicion can never fall upon you. And now go, friends” he added, “for it will soon be dawn, and you must be back here safely before then.” Each man looked carefully to see that his cane-knife was safely hidden under his robe, and then, under the leadership of Mun Sami, the men slowly and silently filed out of the hut. The wizened old gentleman had, however, forgotten a, rather important factor in his calcu- lations, and that was the body of men known as the Natal Police. Honoré Bernard de Vaux was that same evening sleeping the sleep of the just, or perhaps it would be more correct to say unjust, while fourteen Hindus padded silently down the road to his bungalow. To all outward appearance they might simply have been a party of coolies returning from a

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MUN SAMI’S REVENGE. 257 hashish debauch at some friend’s hut, but there was the difference that this party had cane- knives hidden under their loose and. flowing garments. As they passed down the road they noticed a single light shining from the window of a certain Mr. Bryce’s house. For a moment they paused outside and glanced at one another. They had not reckoned upon anybody being awake there. A muttered consultation for a moment or two, and they trooped off again silently into the darkness. De Vaux’s house was some two hundred yards from Bryce’s, and a scream would hardly be noticed at that distance; besides, these two dwellings were the only ones anywhere round for miles. It was certainly safe to proceed, they thought ; for they did not intend that De Vaux should have the opportunity of calling for help. A few moments more and the ruffians had collected in a group in front of the unhappy man’s door. Mun Sami turned the handle gently and met with his first rebuff. The door was locked. Mun Sami growled a curse under his breath and proceeded to the window. Ah! there was better luck here ; the window was not latched. Softly the Hindu raised the sash and crept inside, his party after him. De Vaux was still asleep, but awoke a second later to feel a huge hand over his mouth and behold a ring of fierce- visaged men around his bed, all armed with cane-knives. He attempted to shout, but the cry was choked in his throat. Next moment he was wrenched from the bed and dragged over to the window. The Mauritian was a strong man and struggled madly to escape, but all to no purpose. “Stay,” said Mun Sami, showing his teeth ; “we must cripple this man, or he will give us too much trouble and perhaps escape after all.” The wretched half-caste was now close to the open window. He was dragged to it and his arms thrust across the sill. The heavy window was then shut down violently upon the bend of his elbows, holding him as in a vice. The Hindus immediately unlocked the door and dashed outside. : Then they drew the keen knives across the Mauritian’s wrists, severing the tendons and thus rendering him absolutely powerless to resist. One long, shrill scream of utter agony rang out in the still warm air, and De Vaux fainted. It was a fortunate thing that his senses had left him, for the scene of ghastly mutilation that followed baffles description. When it was over the Hindus left the gruesome thing that had once been a strong, healthy man outside his own door, in the roadway. There was need for haste though, now. Vol, xx.—33. That scream had reached the inmates of Mr. Bryce’s house, and shouts were heard proceeding from that direction. “ Quick,” exclaimed Mun Sami; “we must leave the dog where he lies ; there is no time to. remove him. Make for the bush, brothers. I can hear somebody coming !” Without a sound the coolies plunged into the dense brushwood and were lost to sight. Not a moment too soon either, for as the last man disappeared a horseman came thundering down the road, to be almost unseated as his horse caught sight of that horrible, motionless figure lying in the starlight. “Ah! as I feared,” ejaculated the horseman. “There has been foul play here. Poor beggar,” he continued, “he’s been almost hacked to pieces !” Then, as he turned the body on to its back, so that he could examine the face, he started back with an exclamation of horror. “ Good heavens!” he cried. “It’s De Vaux !” With trembling fingers Bryce tied his horse to the rail outside the house, and then, picking up the corpse, carried it into the house and laid it reverently upon the bed in which De Vaux had been sleeping such a short time ago. He then fastened the window from the inside, went out by the door, locked it after him, and dropped the key into his pocket. Back at his own solitary dwelling, he put out the lamp—by the light of which he had been reading when alarmed—fastened up his house, and in the now fast-brightening dawn galloped at top speed for Mehlomnyama, where lay the nearest police- quarters. It took him well over three hours to do the twenty-odd miles, for the country was hilly and - the going very rough, so that he found the sergeant-in-charge and the four European police at breakfast when he arrived. Bryce dismounted before he had even brought his horse to a halt, flung the reins to a Kaffir “boy” who had run out at the sound of hoof- beats, dashed into the mess-room, much to the occupants’ astonishment, and was soon detailing his account of the night’s tragedy. Sergeant Belcher pulled his moustache and looked thoughtful. It was nearly four hours now since the murder had occurred, the criminals would have been already working some time in the cane-fields, and no doubt expressing much surprise at the non-appearance of their overseer. Then, say three hours to arrive at the scene of the outrage, an hour to examine the house and the body, another hour to reach the coolie location ; there did not seem very much chance of discovering the culprits. Belcher knew that long before he could arrive at their quarters

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258 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. every single trace of the crime would have been removed, but there was the one chance that perhaps the native police might be able to track the murderers. At any rate, every effort would have to be made, for far too many crimes of that sort had occurred recently. “You will go back with us, of course, Mr. Bryce ?” inquired Belcher. “ Certainly,” replied the former ; “ but I shall have to leave my horse here and borrow one of yours, I’m afraid. I had a long round to make yesterday and came along at my best pace this morning, so I know the poor beast is fairly well played out.” “Boot and saddle” rang out on the bugle, such uneven ground ; for the sooner they were on the scene the more likelihood there would be of ultimately tracing the criminals. Half-way along the road they met Inspector Meiners, of the Border Mounted Rifles, slowly ambling along, followed by a Kaffir “boy” carrying a fowling-piece. He was on his way up to Mehlomnyama to take part in a buck-hunt fixed for the following day, but on hearing the story of the tragedy he turned his horse’s head and galloped back with the police, leaving the native to take along the gun at his leisure. Another hour, and the five men pulled up in front of De Vaux’s bungalow, where they found the native policemen just arrived and gesticu “THEY FOUND THE NATIVE POLICEMEN JUST ARRIVED.” and ina very few minutes Belcher and Bryce, together with two of the Natal Police, were ready to take the road. Four native policemen were sent forward on foot, and as they would cut straight across country they would be on the scene almost or quite as soon as the thorse- men. Belcher turned in his saddle to give some instructions to the remaining two police who were left behind in charge of the station, and then the four men went clattering down the steep, rough road as fast as they dared go over lating excitedly round a dark brown patch in the roadway. Handing the horses to one of the natives to look after, the white men rapidly proceeded with their investigations, but, as Belcher had antici- pated, found nothing in or about the house to give them any clue as to the identity of the criminals. It was easily perceived, however, that the crime was the work of coolies, as Bryce had at first suspected, and before very long one | of the native trackers found the spot where they had taken to the bush. Then an exciting

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MUN 'SAMI’S_ REVENGE. 259 chase commenced, and continued until dusk approached. Traces of the murderers could be found for a considerable distance in the direction of the coolie location, but at the dry bed of a stream they became entirely obliterated. Thence onward there was nothing to show to which part of the location the murderers had gone. It being impossible to do any more that day owing to the approach of darkness, the party mounted once more and rode into Port Shep- stone—Belcher to make his report to the magistrate there, and Meiners to make arrange- ments for bringing the body of the murdered man to the court-house, so that the inquest might be held. All that was left of De Vaux was brought in that same evening and the inquest held the next morning, when a verdict was returned of “ Wilful murder against some person or persons unknown.” The dead man had ade no friends and had no relations in the country ; so, there being nobody with whom to communicate, he was buried the following day in the churchyard of the little building which had only been erected a few weeks before, his resting - place being marked by a plain stone ‘cross, with the inscrip- tion, “Sacred to the memory of Honoré Bernard de Vaux, murdered June 3rd, 1904. Resurgam.” Meanwhile the Natal Police and a couple of Mounted Riflemen had been doing all in their power to trace the miscreants, but without suc- cess. Questions had been put to the women and children belonging to the location, but all in vain. Indeed, the questioning had been merely a matter of form, for both Belcher and Meiners knew very well that had the whole coolie popula- tion witnessed the crime, not one of them would ever dream of betraying his or her compatriots. The sergeant and Meiners visited the different gangs in the cane-fields and questioned the men carefully, closely observing their faces as they answered. But nothing was elicited from the men, who might have been so many wooden images for all the expression there was in their faces. A liberal reward was offered for the capture of the murderers, but without result ; nobody came to claim the money. At last every effort seemed to be exhausted, and the police were still as far from solving the mystery as ever. Then the inquiries and investigations gradu- ally ceased, while word was quietly circulated among the coolies that the police had failed and intended to relinquish the search. So a whole month elapsed, and the crime was all but forgotten, except by a few; and these few were still very much on the alert. Then, one evening, as the tired coolies returned from work on the plantations, they were called up to the open space in front of the sugar-mill itself, where M. Favart, the Belgian manager of the estate, informed them that, in view of the excellent work they had done recently in the fields, a whole day’s leave would be granted on the morrow. As it was some fourteen months since a similar holiday had been granted, the Hindus dispersed to their huts in a perfect frenzy of delight, and spent nearly the whole night in packing up their small impedimenta, ready to be off to the nearest village, by daybreak on the morrow. M. Favart knew from past experience that next morning not a single soul, man, woman, or child, would be left in the location, and that they would none of them return until it was time to go into the fields on the morning after. It was nearly ten o’clock next day when Belcher and Meiners, with two white and four native police, rode quietly up to the sugar-mill, where M. Favart was ready to receive them. Their horses were stabled and the men went into the manager’s house to partake of his hospitality pending the return of the Kaftir “boy” who had been sent to the location to make sure that every coolie had left the premises. ‘The “boy” returned very shortly to say that there was no living soul in the place. except one man, who had been too ill to leave his hut, and who had been left absolutely unattended, nobody having deemed it worth while to remain. behind to look after him. Then the little body of men started for the location, and a most thorough search began. They separated, one man only searching each hut, in order to save as much time as possible. Till one o'clock they looked in the thatch, searched among straw mattresses, prodded mud floors with sword-bayonets, and turned every- thing upside-down, but without result. . There were only three huts left to search now, and after a hasty lunch they started once more. Half an hour elapsed, and then Belcher’s head popped out of a hut door. ‘Come here, you people,” he shouted, excitedly; “I think we’ve run them to earth at last!” Everyone hastened to the hut, and there they . found the sergeant busily hauling a quantity of clothing from inside the thatch, In a few moments he had spread it upon the floor. Upon many of the garments were to be seen the rusty brown stains which all had expected to find. A few moments more and the floor was being prodded in every direction, until presently steel struck on steel, and, the ground being dug up,

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260 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. several cane-knives were disclosed, all bearing that sinister brown rust upon their blades. “ Monsieur Favart,” said Meiners, “(can you tell us the names of the men who live in this hut?” : "Oh, yes, I think so,” replied the manager. The police-court proceedings would occupy too much space to detail here in full, but Judge Feversham of the Supreme Court came down especially to try the men. In spite of the Court Prosecutor's utmost efforts, however, he was only able to convict two of the coolies of the actual “Let me see now; there are Ram Das, Kistna Sami, Mun Sami, and his brother, a man we call ‘Hitherao,’ because he is always calling someone to do his work for him.” After a pause he mentioned several other names. “Thank you, Monsieur Favart,” said Meiners ; “we are much obliged to you for all the trouble you have taken. The Government will, of course, Tecompense you for the amount you have lost in giving your coolies this ‘holiday.’ Belcher, I think it only remains for us to set the trap now and spring it when these gentlemen return.” The gentlemen referred to walked into that same trap the next morning when they returned from their leave, full of sleep and weariness. The trap was sprung, and a few hours later Mun Sami and his littlé party were safely ensconced in jail. “*COME HERE, YUU PROPLE,'’ HE SHOUTED, BXCITRDLY.” murder, but the remainder went for penal servitude for life to the Breakwater at Cape Town. The two murderers betrayed not the slightest emotion as Judge Feversham put on the black cap and their sentence was translated to them by the Hindu interpreter. They were marched back to their cells, to emerge, a day or two later, into the courtyard of the prison, where a gallows had been erected, and where a detachment of police and Mounted Rifle- men had been drawn up to preclude any possibility of escape or rescue. The hang- man adjusted a white stocking-cap over the heads of the murderers, and one after the other they dropped out of the brilliant sunlight into eternity.

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From Peking to Paris by Motor-Car. By PRINCE SCIPIO BORGHESE. The great automobile race from Peking to Paris, which was concluded last August, is the most important event of the kind since the advent of the motor-car. follows, the hero of the race describes his magnificent achievement in a In the engrossing article which imple and straight- forward fashion, giving his impressions of the long journey and the countless obstacles that had to be overcome. The striking photographs reproduced give one a vivid idea of the hardships which the competitors were compelled to undergo. ESCENDED from an_ illustrious Italian family, Prince Scipio Bor- ghese is the ideal grand seigneur who, not satisfied with ready-made glory, wishes by his own deeds to add to the lustre of his name. Speaking fluently five or six different languages, his mind stored with memories of travels all over the world, Prince Borghese is not merely a di/eslante, but a man of action with practical ambitions. One of the Radical members of the Italian Parliament and a future Mayor of Rome, as well as being an athlete and sportsman, his jour- ney from Peking to Paris was no mere fantastic adventure, but a most striking demonstration of the possibilities of the motor-car—and, in- cidentally, of his own pluck and energy. When he reached Paris after his arduous sixty days’ journey — though natu- rally fatigued by the fact that since his departure from Peking he had never slept for more than four hours a day, and had also to undergo all sorts of receptions and banquets organized by enthusiastic fellow- motorists — the Prince nevertheless consented to harrate some of his impressions of the trip, which are recorded be- low. Under the modest, unassuming phraseology the reader will discover PRINCE SCIPIO BORGHESE, THE WINNER OF THE GREAT PARIS TU PEKING MOTOR-CAX KACE, WHO HERE DESCRIBES HIS EXPERIENCES DURING THE CONTEST. From a Photograph. abundant evidence of the courage and_in- telligence that made his memorable journey a triumphant success. I have always been of opinion that for a busy brain-worker there can be no discipline so salutary as being compelled now and then to solve some material problem involving consider- able physical endurance. Taking an active part in the labours of the Radical party in the Italian Parliament, I had become somewhat fatigued with the pressure of publie work, and the Peking to Paris motor- car race appeared to me an ideal distraction that would temporarily with- draw me from the arena, and, while furnishing me with plenty of physi- cal exercise, give my jaded faculties a rest. Moreover, eight years ago I had already “done” Persia, Afghani- stan, Turkestan, and Southern Siberia, but had not touched the redoubtable Gobi Desert. The prospect of making the acquaintance of that ill- omened__ wilderness, joining up, as it were, my previous routes, and thus completing my knowledge of Central Asia, was an additional incentive to make the attempt. « Looking at the ques- tion from a purely sport- ing point of view, the idea of the race was very — 7]

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262 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. attractive, while the contest promised to be most interesting, as an endeavour to prove to what extent motor-cars can be utilized over very long distances on roads not especially made for them and in regions where no proper workshops existed, and where, consequently, there is no possibility of renewing any essential: part of the mechanism. As far as Moscow only one factory exists. To complete the distance of ten thousand miles separating Peking from Paris, without the possibility of being able to effect any radical repairs to the car, would, therefore, furnish an incontrovertible proof of the utility of the automobile. My departure from Europe was fixed for February 3rd. The car was a forty horse- well as the members of the official race com- mittee, arranged with the Nobel Company to provide depdts about every hundred and fifty or two hundred miles, while the firm of Piretti established relays of pneumatic tyres about every six hundred miles. With regard to other parts of the mechanism, it was arranged that supplies of duplicate parts need only be kept ready at Omsk and Moscow. As it happened, the supply intended for Omsk never reached there, having been stopped ,by the Austrian Customs authorities at the very outset of the journey. .At Moscow I was in the fortunate position of not needing anything. To sum the matter up, I had at my disposal altogether four times as many outer covers and A WONDERING CROWD IN PEKING WATCHING THE PREPARATIONS FOR THE START. From a Photograph. ponct Itala, of the ordinary type—it was put ogether, by the way, in thirty days—with the exception that the carriage body had been replaced by three reservoirs, two constructed to hold a hundred gallons of petrol and the third thirty-seven and a half gallons of water. In order to obviate any possibility of being stopped in the course of the journey for want of petrol, lubricating oil, or tyres, suitable pre- cautions were taken simultaneously both at Peking and St. Petersburg. From Shanghai a consignment of petrol and oil was forwarded to my brother, who is the Italian Chargé d’Affaires at Peking, and was by him sent on by caravan to the only two stations which were necessary for me to touch at in crossing the Gobi Desert. Personal friends of mine in St. Petersburg, as tyres as T needed, for I used in all not more than sixteen. There was never any necessity to completely fill my reservoirs, which considerably lessened the weight to be carried; and the absence of duplicate parts caused me no incon- venience whatever. My camping materials, needless to say, had to be reduced to a minimum—a mere nothing, in fact, when the magnitude of the journey is taken into consideration. In all, we took with us only a score or so of small tins of preserved provisions, being assured that—with the excep- tion of the crossing of the Gobi—we should be able without any greater difficulty than that of now and then increasing our daily stages to reach one or other of the large Siberian towns, seldom more than six hundred miles apart—

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FROM PEKING TO PARIS BY MOTOR-CAR. 263 THE COMPETITORS’ CAMP IN THE GOBI DESEKI—AS A MEASURE OF PRECAUTION yOALL REPS TOGETHER WHILE CKOSSING. From a Photograph. Irkutsk, Kansk, ‘Tomsk, Omsk, and the rest. It was in these places that our principal depots had been established. Thus equipped, my selection of a reliable car such as- the Itala assured me a con- siderable mechanical superiority over the other competitors at the very outset, since for forty-horse power I had only four thousand pounds weight to transport—that is to say, at the rate of about one hundred pounds weight for each horse-power, the proportion the other competitors carried being nearly three times as much—two hundred and seventy-five pounds for each horse-power On the roth June, at eight o’clock in the morning—I had then been in Peking for three weeks—we began our long overland journey. re Sixty days later we reached Paris, though we had actually only been driving for forty-four days of that time, the balance having been wasted in waits and in our vain attempts to get round Lake Baikal. The average distance covered daily, it will thus be seen, works out at nearly two hundred and fifty miles. This fact alone should suffice to refute the oft-repeated contention that a continuous journey of this sort is impossible for a motor-car. After the first five days the least we ever did, and that only on one or two occasions, was a hundred and twenty- five miles. Never once did I have to stop for more than three hours consecutively, and it was always the same difficulty that caused us to stop —mud. I must admit that the mud tried our patience terribly, and more than once made us Pal A STRIKING CONTRAST—ON THR WAY ACROSS THE GOBL THE RACING CARS MET SFVERAL CAMEL. CARAVANS, WHOSE DRIVERS. From a) REGARDED THE STRANGE MACHINES WITH GREAT AWE. Photograph,

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264 fear that our jour- ney had come to a premature end. On one never - to- be - forgotten occasion, indeed, I was quite convinced we should not only lose the race, but the car as well, for I saw it steadily sink- ing inch by inch before my very eyes into a_fathomless sea of slime! To traverse the country separating Peking from the Gobi Desert is liter- ally a question of acrobatics. There are veritable moun- tains to climb, and the problem is how to make an auto- mobile ascend a mountain mule- track and every now and then jump up steps _ higher than the back of an ordinary arm-chair. In face of such obstacles, of course, the motor is powerless; it has to be assisted. As I had remarked that the native horses and other beasts of burden seemed to have the peculiarity of pulling whenever ane wanted them to stand THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. NGOLIAN CAVALIER WHO CAME OUT TO INSPECT THE CARS. From a Photograph. still, and wee versa, I pinned my faith to the Chinese coolies, whom it is far easier to guide. It was thanks to them only that I was able to reach Kalgan in five days, a distance of rather more than one hun- dred and fifty miles, about half of which I did with the motor. I then made my attack on the Gobi Desert, _ following the line of tele- graph posts, having previously mutually agreed with: the other competitors that for fear of pos- sible dangers we were all to wait for one another at the end of each day’s stage. That portion of the journey I might almost, with- out exaggeration, call delightful. My car could quite easily have covered twice the distance every day. Now and again, certainly, we came to a patch of sand that was somewhat damp, but at this season of - the year the ground in general is in such perfect EXCAVATING A ROAD THROUGH A ROCKY OUTCROP FOR TIE PASSAGE OF THE CARS. From a Photograph,

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FROM PEKING TO PARIS BY MOTOR-CAR. 265 From a) condition that nothing would be easier than to make a racing-track there. For hundreds of miles in every direction there stretches out a perfectly flat surface covered with small gravel, none of the grains large enough to cause any damage to the pneu- matic tyres. Occasionally, in place of the gravel there is stunted grass, over which the car slips along splendidly. From time to time we fell in with sand mingled with largish stones; and here I am ready to admit that now and again I did have a qualm that some- thing might occur to damage the tyres. As a matter of fact, however, I was not once cémpelled to quit my hold of the steering- wheel, nor to have recourse to being ignomini- ously hauled. So far as any danger of attack goes there was never the slightest hint of such a thing, and yet . Vol. xx.—84- COOLIES DRAGGING THE CARS THROUGH A STRETCH OF MUD. { Photograph. in a country where some of the telegraph stations have not once been utilized in the course of six years it may be rash to affirm categorically that such dangers only exist in the imagination. Then came the road to Lake Baikal, which would be good enough if only it had not been so completely abandoned. Practically every bridge has collapsed, and of the original road there is hardly a trace left, so that once or twice Thad to guide myself with the compass. Here it was that on one occasion all four wheels suddenly disappeared in a hidden quagmire. Every effort to extricate ourselves from our awkward position proved unavailing. At last, despairing of success, we had just begun philosophically to prepare our tea, when a caval- cade of mounted Mongolians approached. “Tt will cost you fifteen roubles,” said the

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266 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ONE OF THE MOST THRILLING EPISODES OF THF RACR—THE AUTHOR'S CAR CRASHED BODILY THROUGH A BRIDGE, HURLING ITS OCCUPANTS INTO A RIVER.

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FROM PEKING TO PARIS BY MOTOR-CAR. _ 267 leader, whom I entreated to do what was possible to get us out of our difficulties. “ Agreed !” I answered, without hesitation. Thereupon he began to examine the car from every point of view. After minutely observing its position, he said: ‘Were you to give me double the sum I ask, the thing would be impossible. Nothing can be done.” Renewed exhortations, however, at length decided him. He set_all his men to work, and, after heroic efforts, they succeeded in getting the car once more on solid ground and pointed out to us the propér road to pursue. Thus we finally reached Lake Baikal, where we soon found that we must give up all idea of going round it; we should have had to cross fifteen rivers with hardly a The boats on these bridge to one of them | | From a) streams were all too small to transport a motor- car, and one of the few bridges which still remained broke down under us in a sufficiently tragic fashion to discourage us from going on with an enterprise that was decidedly too risky. It was clearly a very ancient bridge, about fifteen yards across, and had an aspect by no means engaging. I assumed, however, that it was, perhaps, not really more dangerous than others we had previously crossed successfully. In any case, we attacked it with the utmost circumspection, under the conduct of a local gendarme. We had just reached the centre when suddenly, without the slightest warning, the portion immediately in front of us collapsed, and the car dived dizzily into the abyss ! By great good luck the gendarme managed, somehow or other, to leap on to the opposite bank. As for me, I remained dangling in mid- air, crushed against a beam, my legs kicking helplessly. Close beside me my companion, Mr. Barzini, was struggling in a position no less unpleasant. From the reservoir of the car a warm, evil-smelling liquid rained down upon us. Poor Ettore, my mechanic, was actually in the river. By desperate efforts each of us eventually got out of our miserable plight, by which time some men working on the neighbouring railway line, who had observed the accident, ran up and rendered what assistance they could. After three hours of titanic labours we finally suc- ceeded in getting the car once more upon its wheels. Then a great fear seized me. Was it possible that, after so terrific a shock, the engine [Protograph. could still have any life left in it? Ettore grasped the starting-handle, turned it—once— twice—thrice—and then, to our intense relief, the faithful motor gave an answering grunt! Once more we were saved. It was after this accident that I definitely made up my mind to cross ake Baikal in the ferry in order to pick up on the other side the great Siberian road, which I knew was going to tax our energy to the utmost. To miss one’s way on the Siberian road is impossible. Like an endless riband, always the same, it stretches away for thousands upon thousands of miles, though progress is by no means easy upon it. A score or so of yards in width, and without any artificial foundation, it was long since cut right through the centre of

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268 _ THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. forests of pine and birch, and is bordered on each side by ditches, intended to carry off the surface water, but now choked and useless, for the building of the railway has caused the high- road to be completely abandoned. Not even the post now utilizes it, and it only serves to-day for the local traffic between the different villages established there long before the railway was made. One of the consequences of this diversion of traffic is rather curious. When you leave any of the large towns you see a vast number of ruts, indicative of a great stream of cart traffic. These ruts extend as far as a certain village and then abruptly disappear. The meaning of this is that the village in question is the farthest that the town you have just left has any relations with. Between that village and the next—a long stretch—the road In some places bogs have formed, the mud of which seems literally to suck you down like a quicksand. As we advanced over this ground the car continually sank right in. On more than one day we were all but engulfed three times, and on each such occasion had to resort to the same method to extricate ourselves. Fortunately the bogs were invariably encountered in parts of the road where there was a considerable amount of traffic, otherwise I am very doubtful whether we should ever have rescued the car. The first thing we had to do when these accidents occurred was to go to the nearest village to procure men and strike a bargain with them to get the car out. We usually paid fifteen copecks per man, with something extra for the local mayor, who generally performed the duties of foreman of the gang. RUSSIAN PEASANTS HAULING THE PRINCE'S CAR OUT OF A MORASS, is absolutely deserted. For years, probably, not a vehicle of, any description has traversed the section, the reason being that the ensuing village has only relations with the big town beyond it, and with no other. Between the villages there is thus a zone of wild country through which nobody ever passes. Yet there still remain biggish ruts—six pairs, sometimes eight, abreast—though they do not retard the progress of the motor so long as the weather is dry, for the ground is very hard, and it is not difficult to drive so that one’s wheels fit the tuts, Let it rain, however—and it rained every day from the moment of our arrival in Siberia until we entered European Russia—and these ruts at once become transformed into perfect quagmires of sticky clay, in which the wheels skid terribly. { Photograph. The men brought beams with them, which served to lever up the wheels of the car. Planks were then laid under the wheels, one on the top of another, until at length the auto- mobile was higher than the level of the sur- rounding mud. Then more planks were put down in front of the wheels to serve as a sort of primitive railroad, over which the car was hauled into safety. Once we sunk in the mud at the very entrance toa village. The mayor, whom I immediately sought out, assured me that the road all through the village was in the same condition, from the first house to the last. “If you insist upon continuing,” he said, “you will only sink in again.” I persuaded him, however, to let me have some horses to drag the car through his domain,

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FROM PEKING TO PARIS BY MOTOR-CAR. 269 A PRINCE BORGHESE ENTERING BERLIN, WHERE THE PEOPLE GAVE HIM A RAPTUROUS WELCOME. From a Photograph. a distance of about nine hundred yards. Even then, though hauled by five powerful animals, we only got over this little distance with the greatest difficulty. In some parts of the road tree-trunks had From a) THE WINNING CAR LEAVING HAMBURG. been laid down, forming, together with large branches, a sort of trellis which serves to give the mud some consistency. When passing over this half-moving ground I put the lever hard over, and we slid along at full spded, often (Photograph.

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270 From a) THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. BKUW VIGA THE PRINCE'S CAR AT PARIS—THE WINNING-POST OF THE GREAT RACE. (Photograph. making quite phenomenal bounds. Every now terrific downpours of rain we had to encounter and then a sinister crackling soynd reached my eats which seemed to augur something cala- mitous. “ This time, surely,” I said to myself, “we must sink.” Somehow, how- ever, we invari- ably managed to escape. In dry sea- sons these roads, I am convinced, must be—re- latively speak- ing, of course— excellent. After Ourga, for in- stance, I am certain the car could easily have done fifty miles an hour; but when it rains the whole surface of the ground is trans- formed into an immense muddy field. Some of the DRINKING THE WINNER'S HEALTH AT THE PRENCH FRONTIER. From a Photograph. seemed to soak us through to our very bones, and on such occasions we often asked our- selves what was the best course to pursue — at- tempt to pro- ceed, running the motor for all it was worth, or wait until the deluge ceased ? As a matter of fact, however, had we adopted the latter course we should have been stuck practically all the time. The car was so wet that it was often a wonder to me that little mush- rooms did not sprout out all over it. Of all the — difficulties that assailed us in the course of the journey the rain was

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FROM PEKING assuredly by far the most demoralizing. Fre- quently—through its effect upon the road—it reduced our speed to about six miles an hour, and this for an hour or even two hours at a time, although the engine was running at its full capacity and the lever in the top notch. Owing to the rain we once spent fully two hours in mounting a slope of a hundred yards or so in length. Every yard we gained -we lost almost immediately through slipping back, and this continued until we had completely swathed the wheels with rope. When we reached the Ural district I might almost say that’ our troubles were at an end, though now, looking back at all the incidents we met with, I must say that but for the con- tinual dread of sinking into the mire the journey was not marked by what I should term any really serious dangers. With two exceptions we slept every night in houses, if not actually in bed. In China, prior to reaching Kalgan, we always found Chinese hotels. After Kalgan the Chinese telegraph employés, under orders from head-quarters, put us up every night. | In the large towns we almost always went to the hotels, exce;t now and then in the heart of Siberia, where we found shelter in houses which the municipalities are obliged to provide for the use of passing Government officials. No bed is supplied, only the four walls of the house. The family who are allowed to live in it, in order to receive travellers, do what cooking is required. So far as food goes, we always found all we wanted. we had to camp out in the open we dined on the contents of some of our tins; the rest of the time our table was always decently furnished. We only stopped, however, for dinner, anything deft over being preserved for the following day’s . breakfast, which we ate in the car about the middle of the stage. We started regularly at three o’clock every morning, and stopped some time between five and nine o'clock in the evening. On the two solitary occasions when , TO PARIS BY MOTOR-CAR. 271 Everywhere we were most kindly received. Of “savages” we saw not a trace. I certainly perceived occasionally a few aged women, who hid themselves at our approach, but other inhabitants of the same village would come forward and. eagerly ask us for information. Long and fatiguing as the journey was, owing to natural obstacles, its success was never at any moment jeopardized by the spite or ill-will of the natives. The entire expense did not exceed one thousand two hundred pounds. Of immediate consequences to be looked for _ as the result of this journey I can discern none, and yet I hope that it will finally demonstrate the possibility of utilizing motor-cars as a means of transport even on bad roads. The greater ‘ implies the less, and there is no doubt that motors were not intended for use on such apologies for roads as we had to travel upon. When I reached Paris, my destination, the only parts of the car I had been obliged to replace were the two hind wheels, one because it had been kroken and repaired in a Russian village, the other simply because I had an extra wheel. I also renewed two back springs, one having got somewhat out of gear, threatening possible damage to the chassis; extra bearings and sparking-plugs I had with me on the car. Let the reader think of the natural difficulties of all sorts surmounted by the car, and he will easily be able to imagine the marvellous exten- sion which motor-cars will, in the near future, give to road transport. I can only hope that the different countries will be urged on to make more and more roads—in Russia there are still practically none, so to speak—and keep them in proper order, for the greater good of both national and international commerce. oye

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MAN versus SEA. The Romance of a Lost Mine. By Ricuarp A. Haste. A story that has never before been told —-the strange tale of a mine which was for years well-nigh world-famous, but is now lost beneath the sea. “I have confined myself strictly to facts,” writes the author, ‘as gathered from the seventh report of the Bureau of Mines of Ontario and the caretaker of Silver Islet.” HAT region lying about Lake | Superior and including the “ height of land ”"—the great ridge-pole of the roof of the continent — has always been a land of romance, a land of mystery. Here are laid the scenes of many weird and beautiful legends. The rock- girt shores of the lake were the favourite walks of the Great Spirit. Here, according to the Indians, the maker of the world hid his treasures, and gave them into the keeping of Missibizi, the god of the sea. To this treasure- land, long ago, came strange people from the far south, the Mound-builders and the Aztecs, for copper. To this “shining big sea-water” came also, in a later day, those men of iron whose deeds make up the story of the Great Lone Land—a story that has never been fully told. It is with one of these hidden treasures of this great lake that this story has to deal. You who have been so fortunate as to take that most delightful of all summer journeys, the lake trip from Owen Sound or Sarnia to Port pisses Arthur on one of the Canadian Pacific steamers, doubtless remember Thunder Cape, that bold promontory that guards the entrance to Thunder Bay and the twin harbours of Port Arthur and Fort William. No doubt your attention was called to Isle Royale, lying to your left as you approach the cape, and you learned, perhaps, some of its wonderful history. Perhaps, too, if it were a clear day, the captain gave you his binocular and directed your eyes to a low- lying island near the north shore not far from the base of Thunder Cape—a little island that seemed not so large as your hand, on which stand queer-shaped buildings, now partially wrecked and going to decay; but this you will not notice even with the glass. Silver Islet, it is called. Perhaps the captain told you of the lost mine beneath the lake; of the shafts and levels that honeycomb the rock more than a thousand feet below the surface of the water; of the tons and tons of silver that lay in sight when the cold waters of the lake “jumped the claim” and took possession of all save the upper works. j THUNDER CAPES

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MAN VERSUS SEA, 273 It may be you were told also of the dull shocks that are frequently felt, accompanied by low, rumbling thunder, though the sky is clear from horizon to horizon—the ghosts of im- prisoned miners blasting for silver ore beneath the sea, say the superstitious natives. It was, I think, in the year 1868 that a small party of miners, prospecting for copper at the base of Thunder Cape, chanced to land on a barren rock about a mile from shore to plant observation stakes. This rock was about sixty feet across, and rose not more than four feet above the mean level of the lake. It resembled the dome of a huge human skull, just rising out of the water. Across this Skull Rock, as it was then called, ran a vein of galena, in which a few strokes of the pick revealed the presence of silver. A half-dozen powder-blasts were sufficient to detach all the ore-bearing rock above the water- line, but the vein was traceable some distance out into the lake, where, through the clear water, large nuggets of silver were visible. These were dislodged with crowbars, the men working up to their necks in the ice-cold water. The game, however, was worth the candle, for the ore thus taken out, sacked and shipped to Montreal, assayed seven thousand dollars per ton pure silver. The location was owned by the Montreal Mining Company, Limited, a company of con- servative capitalists. In a way luck had favoured them, for here within their grasp was one of the fabled treasures of the lake. So far as human laws were concerned, it belonged to them. But—and it was a big but—the Great Spirit had placed it within the keeping of the sea. For three hundred miles to the east there is nothing to break the awful sweep of the wind. And when, at the call of the storm, the legions of the deep come forth, the little treasure-rock disappears, utterly lost in the spume and froth of the breakers. Where was the man or company of men who would pre- sume to defy these giant powers and remove this jewel from its settings—this treasure from its keep? The men composing the Montreal Mining Company were conservative, as I have already _stated. They were willing and ready, in the pursuit of wealth, to raze hills and tunnel mountains ; they were ready to sink shafts through the solid rock until they could feel the earth’s internal fires. In such cases the opposition to be encountered could be measured and provided for ; but they shrank from measur- ing their strength against the unknown powers of the wind and sea. Therefore, they accepted an offer of two hundred and twenty-five thousand Vol, xx.—36. dollars and transferred Silver Islet and a number of surrounding mining locations to an American syndicate, headed by Alexander H. Sibley, of New York. Here begins the active history of one of the world’s most famous mines—a history more dramatic in its details than novelist ever conceived. It seems that when an unusual task is to be performed — when a Man is wanted — the times, with unerring instinct, bring him forth. Here was an Herculean task, and the first throw of the dice turned up the man—a modest mining engineer, William B. Frue. There is something strongly feline about Lake Superior —it is so lithe and soft and caressing. In August and September, and often later, it is usually in a peculiarly gentle mood. Like a great tiger, it stretches itself in the warm sun and purrs and sleeps. It is so beautiful, and seems so harmless; yet beneath this calm and gentleness you can see the giant muscles swell as the great cat extends and con- tracts its claws in pure enjoyment of its latent power. On one of these perfect.days, September rst, 1870, Superintendent Frue, with machinery, supplies, a crew of thirty-four men, and a great raft of timber, arrived .at Silver Islet. There was not a ripple on the surface of the water. The basaltic ledges of Thunder Cape, even to the features of the Sleeping Giant, were duplicated in the water below. But Superintendent Frue knew the lake; he knew its moods. This one might last a day, a week, perhaps a month—not much longer, at any rate ; and then !—— There was the Skull Rock—a mere foothold— a tiny island into which a shaft must be sunk down to the bowels of the earth, while around or over it broke the angry waters of this mighty brother of the sea. To sink that shaft and guard it against the fury of the lake was Superintendent Frue’s task. It was finally decided to encircle the island with a crib of timber filled with rock to break the force of the waves, while a stone and cement coffer-dam was to furnish protection for the immediate mouth of the shaft. With feverish haste the work was pushed ahead ; eighteen hours was a day’s work. if only the cribbing could be got into place before the autumn storms began all might be well. One week, two weeks, a month passed, and still the great lake slept, unconscious or in contempt of the puny efforts of the human ants on Silver Islet. Day after day the sun rose as out ofa mirror, and sank unclouded behind the shoul- ders of the Sleeping Giant.

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EEE EEE LL Ly a ee 274 Five weeks! The cribbing was done, the shaft was being sunk, and every day the precious metal was coming to the surface. Six weeks— seven weeks! The human ants were beginning to feel secure in their new abode. Then came the 26th of October. It was three o’clock in the afternoon when the wind began to blow strong from the north- east. In half an hour the lake right to the horizon line was white with foam. “It’s coming at last,” said Frue ; ‘ but we're here first, and I think we'll stay.” When the second shift quitted work at six o'clock the waves were leaping the east break- “THE LITTLE PLUNGING TUG HAD JUST ARRIVED.” water, deluging the men outside the coffer-dam. From the rocky shore of Thunder Cape came the boom of the surf, like an incessant, rolling cannonade. The little plunging tug had just arrived with the third shift, wet to the skin. The cribbing on the windward side was already trembling with the impact of the waves. To remain stubbornly would be useless, and might mean suicide. It was the first trial of strength, and the result, to the mind of the superintendent, was at least doubtful. Orders were therefore given fur all hands to go ashore, to the main- land. There was little sleep for Superintendent Frue that night. He had had first innings ; he had had fair play; he had made his utmost score. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. And now the sea was taking a hand in the game. All night he walked the beach and listened, guessing, as best he could, the progress of the battle. How the breakers roared—how the wind howled and shrieked as wave after wave came home ! Before sunrise the wind had died down, and by ten o'clock the sea had subsided to a sullen under-swell. Frue promptly went out to the scene of the conflict, and his heart sank at what he saw. Two hundred feet of the break- water had been carried away; the coffer-dam was a partial wreck, and, as if in rebuke, the storm had filled the shaft to the brim with the rock of the crib- bing. The company had agreed to give Frue a bonus of twenty- five thousand dollars, in addi- tion to his salary, oncondition that before Septem- ber 1st, 1871— the first year of operation—he mined and ship- ped ore to the value of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, an amount _ suffici- ent to cover the original pur- chase price and the bonus. On the morning of October 27th that bonus ap- peared to Frue as far away as the moon. But under this apparently crushing defeat he lost neither his heart nor his head. He had learned something from the storm. He had learned something of the game as it was played by his antagonist. All hands were put to work; the cribbing was replaced and strengthened, the coffer-dam was restored, and the dééris removed from the shaft. The sea remained quiet. Mining was resumed, and by the last day of November, when navigation closed, the plucky superin- tendent had the satisfaction of knowing that one hundred thousand dollars’ worth of silver ore had been shipped down the lake to Montreal. Hardly had the vessel with the last shipment got away when the mercury dropped to ten below zero. For a week it froze, covering parts | | | |

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MAN VERSUS SEA. 275 of the lake with a heavy coating of ice, and then from the south-east came another storm. It was a flank attack, and this time the sea, as if maddened by the persistence of the invaders, brought up its artillery and hurled tons upon tons of ice against the cribbing, which crumbled like an egg-she.1 before the tre- mendous on- slaught. But thisawful batter- ing defeated its own purpose ; the accumula- tion of ice soon formed a break- water against which the waves beat out their fury. For three days and nights the storm raged; then the sea smoothed out, and again Frue took stock of the ruins. The. coffer-dam_re- mained, but most of the cribbing was gone. The fore- man, after look- ing over the wreck, re- marked, “You can’t make any- thing stop here.” But Frue thought differently. Nature is the greatest of engineers, and he who would oppo:e her must adopt her plans and be ever ready to profit by a hint. The ice-gorge gave Frue the key to the situation. Taking advantage of the winter and the ice, he threw out a breakwater facing the south-east. This structure had a base of seventy-five feet, rose twenty feet above the surface, and was backed by cribbing and dééris from the mine. Work was prosecuted both underground and on the defences with little interruption until March 8th. Then the lake gathered its forces for what seemed not only another assault, but the commencement of a campaign of annihilation. Masses of ice as large as the island itself were hurled against the groaning fortifications, which were soon driven bodily up the incline toward “the centre of the island. “WAVE AFTER WAVE 'EAPED THE BREAKWATER, AND IT SEEMED THAT THE LAKE WOULD AT LAST SUCCEED IN REGAINING THE WHOLE OF THE LOST TERRITORY.” Wave after wave leaped the breakwater, and it seemed that the lake would at last succeed in regaining the whole of the lost territory, and in driving the invaders permanently from the ground. Storm suc- ceeded storm during the en-\ tire month, each assault more terrific than the last. There was no rest for the miners day or night. Every interval of calm was employed in repairing the breaks and in strengthening the weak places. At last, appa- rently defeated, the great lake withdrew its forces, and the superintendent for the first time sawin his mind’s eye the twenty- five - thousand - dollar bonus — and it was not far away. At the close of the first year, the clean - up showed a gross output of nearly one million dollars. The bonus was immediately paid. There seemed no longer any danger from storms. To all appearances the lake had given up the contest—abandoned the treasure to the spoilers, who, during the next two years, took out another million in silver. Silver Islet had now become one of the wonder-mines of the world. The little island —the bare Skull Rock—had grown in the mean- while to ten times its original size. It extended to the outer breakwaters, and supported not only the upper works of the mine, but machine-shops, store-houses, and permanent quarters for certain employés of the mine. From the eastern angle rose a lighthouse, while on the lee side were built great docks and breakwaters for the pro- tection of the now important shipping. On the shore a town had sprung up-a town with

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276 churches andaschool-house, great reducing works, club-rooms for the miners, and neat cottages for the families of five hundred workmen. Frue was the magician who had wrought the change. He had found a barren and desolate rock a mile from the shore of a howling wilder- ness, and in three years had made it the centre of one of the most important enterprises on the continent. He .had found the treasure he sought guarded by the most powerful and treacherous of natural forces. He had met every emergency, and at the end of three years was the apparent conqueror. But Nature never gives up a battle. Ages ago, as if in sentient anticipation of what was to come, the lake had run a counter- mine underneath the island. The main shaft had reached the depth of three-hundred feet when this counter-mine was struck. The im- prisoned waters, under the enormous pressure, THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. intact and the pumps were kept going. At last the storm died away, the mammoth pump arrived, and slowly the waters were got under control. It was a well-planned attack, and the defenders won by a margin so small that an acci- dent, however slight, would have turned the scale. It was soon after this that Superintendent Frue left the employ of the company and dis- appears from its history. The fortunes of this remarkable mine for the next ten years need not be recounted. The story differs but little from that of similar ventures. Deeper and deeper drove the shafts, and wider and wider extended the stopes and levels. In constant fear of the wind and sea from above, and the water from below, the work went on. Some years the out- put ran into the hundreds of thousands, but even then it barely paid running expenses. At last a year came—a poor year—when the output fell far short of the operating expense. From a Photo. by THE ABANDONED ENC leaped forth fiercely, driving the miners from level to level. Despite the work of a four-inch pump, the water rose at the rate of ten feet per hour. Another six-inch pump was installed, but the two, working day and night, could barely keep the water below the fifth level. An order was dispatched for a pump with a twelve - inch plunger, but before it could arrive the lake made . one more tremendous effort to demolish the upper works. A double attack from above and below seemed to have been planned. All pre- vious storms were dwarfed—they were mere zephyrs compared to the hurricane that now swept down from the north-east. A breach was at once made in the breakwater and sixty feet of the structure carried away. Before the damage could be repaired another assault carried away three hundred and sixty feet of the cribbing, with the blacksmith’s shop and five thousand tons of rock. So violent was the wind that refuse rock “flew about the island like hail- stones.” Fortunately the machinery remained E-HOUSE AND OTHER BUILDINGS AT SILVEG ISLET, (Forde. The indications were as good as ever, but the ore in hand did not seem to pan out well. The stockholders were called upon to make up the deficiency. There was grumbling and dissension. Rich ore to the estimated value of five hundred thousand dollars was visible in the roof of the first level, but its removal had hitherto been regarded as dangerous. Now, however, plans were decided upon for putting in a false roof. and removing this lode. The main shaft had now reached a depth of thirteen hundred feet below the lake level. Gigantic pumps, driven by. powerful engines, were kept busy holding back the insidious sea. Storms might come and wreck the upper works, but storms subside and the ravages of the waves can be repaired; but this eternal assault from beneath could be resisted only bya tireless energy that never slumbered. Let the throbbing engines cease their work, let the pumps stop but for a day, and the battle of years would be lost. |

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MAN VERSUS SEA. It was November, 1884, and the coal was running low. Only a few hundred tons remained in the sheds on the island, and the hungry furnaces would soon devour that. But more was expected any day—the winter supply had already left the Lower Lakes ; it should be somewhere on Lake Superior now. Day followed day, however, and it did not come. It was getting late, and navigation might close at any time. Work went on as usual—some slight accident, no doubt, had delayed the steamer ; the coal was sure to come, the miners told themselves. Day and night was heard the monotonous thud, thud, thud of the pumps ; but all the, time the coal was getting lower, and the sea was waiting—waiting. It was an anxious Christmas for the folk of Silver Islet-—that Christmas of 1884. There was hoping against hope for the arrival of the long-looked-for steamer. What if it should not come? Could it come now? The cold was intense, and already the ice had formed six inches thick in the bays, and .the ice-field was creeping out into the lake, from which rose, like steam from a mighty cauldron, huge banks of cumulus clouds. The New Year came—January rst, 1885— and no coal. But instead there came a dog- team from Duluth, bearing the bitter news that a drunken captain with a cargo of a thousand tons‘of coal for Silver Islet had allowed his vessel to be caught in the ice at Houghton! The furnaces were put on half rations, in the vain hope that something might happen to bring relief. But at last a day came when the fires went out, the pumps stopped, and the exultant sea reclaimed its ewn. Twenty-two vears have passed since that fatal day, a generation has come and gone, but no‘ attempt has been made to fight back the sea and re-establish the mine. The island and the village that once stretched for a mile along the beach are abandoned and desolate—inhabited 277 only by a caretaker whose nearest neighbours are at Port Arthur, twenty-five miles away by water. The great engines and the hoisting machinery on the island are rusting where they stand. The lighthouse has yone. ‘The docks and breakwaters are rotting—they are at peace now with the sea, which, in contempt, has given them over to the slow tortures of time. Down in the drifts and galleries where men once wrought fishes stare with unblinking eyes at the slimy walls. On the mainland the great reducing plant, with its batteries, stamps, and vanners, is rapidly going to decay. Grass grows in the abandoned street, and at night hedgehogs hold high revel’ in the silent church and owls hoot from the rickety tower. Why has this mine, with all its wealth, been left in the possession of the sea? I do not know. The caretaker will tell you strange stories of strange doings. He will tell you that some- times, when the air is full of light, when the wind sleeps and the placid sea reflects the great blue bowl of heaven, the surface of the lake will suddenly heave in long low swells, and then smooth out again. Then, as from the depths of the earth, come low, rumbling sounds, muffled and indistinct, like a far-off cannonade. He will tell you, too, that at night, when the storm comes from the east and the air is filled with blinding wrack, ghostly lights flit about the treasure-island, and in the lulls of the wind you may distinctly hear the rumble of a hoisting cable and the rhythmic pulsations of a ghostly engine. He will give you his theory —weird and uncanny—that, should the waters ever be driven back, nothing will be found but the barren walls of a barren mine. I fear that years of almost uninterrupted solitude may have warped his imagination. Be that as it may, however, the fact remains that this silver fleece is guarded by a dragon that never sleeps—the omniscient power of the sea. THE DESERTED TOWN, WHERE OWLS NEST IN THE CHUKCH AND GRASS GROWS IN THE UNTRODDEN STRERTS. From a Photograph. ‘

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Trapping Wild Elephants in Travancore. By Mrs. O. H. BENSLEY, OF TREVANDRUM, TRAVANCORE. An account, by an eye-witness, of the novel method of capturing wild elephants adopted in Travancore. Pits are dug in the jungle and concealed with brushwood, any animals which fall in being subsequently hobbled and led out by a tame elephant. Sometimes exciting scenes occur when the prisoners are released, as Mrs. Bensley's narrative shows. by means of what is (fq known as the “kheddah” — a ~as massively-built. pound into which = the animals are driven —is fairly well known, but the ingenious method practised in Travancore, a native State in Southern India, has not yet been dealt with, and should prove of interest to Wipe WorLD readers. The Travancore people do not bother about artfully-constructed stockades concealed in the jungle ; instead, they dig pits, into which the unlucky animal falls, and out of which he can- not escape. As to the humanity of these pits it is not for me to speak, but I believe, if properly made and prepared, the elephants should not suffer more than a good tumble. On the other hand, however, if not supervised by an expert, the natives not only make the pits too deep, but neglect to pad them properly with branches, leaves, and such like, so as to break the elephant’s fall. A pit should not be more than nine feet deep ; it should be filled three-quarters full with brush- wood ; and the mass of branches, leaves, and so forth, which conceal the pits altogether, should be sufficiently strong to allow any animal but an elephant to cross the holes without being pre- cipitated into them, It often happens that sambur and small deer fall in, and sometimes even a tiger has fallen headlong into the pit prepared for others. Carelessly-prepared pits mean that the poor elephants often damage themselves severely by the fall, and either break their necks or have to be shot owing to broken legs or other serious injuries. A top covering, judiciously arranged, should be strong enough to let the animal down, as it were, by degrees, and not let him in with a smash. A big elephant will soon make his way out of a nine-foot pit, it is true, but an animal big enough to get out is not wanted. The half or three-quarter grown elephant is more useful ; they are sooner tamed, and are more amenable in every way, as this account will show. I ‘was fortunate enough to be on the spot when elephants were trapped in this way on the Travancore hills some time ago. Four pits had been prepared, just before the arrival of his Excellency the Governor of Madras on a shooting expedition, in the hope that the animals might fall in during his visit, so that his Excel- lency and Lady Lawley might witness the in- teresting operation of getting them out and safely caged. Unfortunately, Sir Arthur Lawley was some miles away in camp when the elephants did fall in, and he saw them only after they were caged. Lady Lawley had gone back to Madras, so that only a few of the shooting party were present ; but all these watched the proceedings from start to finish with the greatest delight and interest. The pits were about four miles from our camp, and dug in the jungle, close to thick ea, so dear to the palate of an elephant. It was exciting work making our way through the dense forest—the home of the tiger and the bear, as fresh marks bore testimony. We walked silently, as news had been brought that the rest of the herd were in the vicinity, ready to come to the aid of their unfortunate comrades should an opportunity occur. But the pits were well surrounded with coolies, and fires had been kept burning all night to frighten away any intruders. As we neared the place we could hear angry squeals and trumpetings from the imprisoned animals. There were four pits, dug diagonally. In the first lay a poor young tusker. with a broken leg. He had to be shot. His look of anguish—as he lay, helpless, with his broken leg twisted under him—haunts me still. The pit was too deep, and had not been sufficiently padded at the bottom to break his fall. We all felt very sorry for his untimely end, and the mahout was very sad—not for reasons of sentiment, however, but because a young tusker is a valuable prize, and he gets so much for every elephant safely caged. The second pit was empty. The third con-

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TRAPPING WILD ELEPHANTS IN TRAVANCORE. tained a furious cow ele- phant. And the fourth —we could hardly be- lieve our eyes—seemed full of elephants ; in fact, it was full. There were three — a huge cow, a half-grown animal whose age was thought to be from sixteen to twenty, and a wee baby elephant, about eighteen months old, so small that he could hardly be seen, except when a tiny trunk waved piteously about. They all seemed unhurt, though how all tumbled in with- out the little one being squashed was wonderful. It was an extra- ordinary sight. The big bat Bis i N ELEPHANT iN THE PIT—THIS PICTURE GIVES AN IDEA OF THE DEPTH OF THE TRAP. From a Photo, by S. B. Murray. elephants were trumpeting in anger and fury, throwing dust up with their trunks and trying their hardest to climb up out of the pit. They managed to get their forefeet up, and then a Froma z se aes ONE OF THE CAPTIVES TR huge head and neck appeared with waving trunk and little, fiery-red eyes. Tt was most alarming at first, but we soon realized that they could get no farther. The big elephant, after trying 279 several times to get out head-first, began to essay the other way, and, to our great amusement, she worked her hind legs up the side of the pit until she was almost standing on her head ; all we saw was a huge ‘back, and we trembled for the baby, but she was very careful, and the youngster was not a bit hurt. She was the first to be allowed out. Not only that, but she was allowed to go altogether ; she was too old, and the three others were considered a fine catch. Logs of wood were thrown in and very soon the old lady pulled herself out, with the aid of a neighbouring tree. There was some fear of her charging, but she was either too done up or too sensible ; anyhow, all she did was to blow dust all over herself, regain her breath, and then she slowly moved off into the jungle. A tame cow elephant, who rejoices in the name of Cleopatra, was the chief performer in

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280 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the subsequent proceed- ings. She was an old hand at the work, and had been herself caught in a pit some twenty-five years ago. Her calm demeanour and the placid way in which she behaved all through filled us with admiration. No matter how troublesome or noisy the captives were, she never got the least excited or annoyed— except once. Her mahout was devoted to her. She was perfectly tame, and when not at work roamed about the village streets quite alone, never being known to hurt even a chicken. The little elephant was not much trouble to get out, and Cleopatra led him off in a very motherly fashion to the cage, some three miles away. He was promptly christened Anthony! The next day the half- : grown animal was taken a out. The work of secur- ing her by ropes before removing her from the pit was done principally by Cleopatra’s mahout and his brother, but there - were, of course, a number of coolies and hill- men at hand to cut down trees, fetch water, and twist the cables used in tying up the elephants. Everything was done on the spot. Cables were made from strips of bark twisted into topes, and the ropes twisted into strong cables. Of course, all this took some time, so the captive elephants were fed and watered ; in spite of their fury they never refused the leaves flung down to them, and when thirsty they held up their trunks to have water poured down, which they shot into their mouths or else over their bodies to cool themselves. They certainly made the best of things. I was told that some- times bison fall into the pits, but they nearly always kill themselves by their paroxysms of rage, refusing to eat or drink. The elephant is a philosopher, and really it was wonderful to see how sensible they were. No wonder they are so quickly and easily tamed. But to return to our elephant, who, after being some thirty-six hours a prisoner, quieted down considerably. Trunks of trees had been placed across the mouth of the pit; on these G FAST THE ROPES PREVARATORY TO DRAGGING THE ELEPHANT OUT. From a Photo, by Wiele. the mahout squatted. His first proceeding was to tie a thick cable round the elephant’s neck. In order to do this he let down a thin piece of rope with a loop at the end, which his brother tried to catch from the other side, under the animal’s head, with a bamboo with a hooked end. This, however, was no easy matter, as the elephant, times without number, seized it, trampled it under foot, or ate it. It was only after the most exemplary patience that they succeeded in getting it safely tied round her neck. Then the end of the strong cable was fastened on, and the small rope pulled round and round until the two ends of the cable joined, when it was securely fastened. As often as not the elephant gets hold of the cable and wrests it away from the men, but eventually he gives in, and the second neck-rope is usually put on without trouble. To tie the cable round each hind leg is a much easier process. Nooses are made and let down at the back of the animal, whose head is safely tied up to a tree, so that he cannot turn. He feels the rope, and strikes out with his leg. Very soon he gets it in the noose, which is quickly tightened. The other leg is also

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TRAPPING WILD ELEPHANTS IN TRAVANCORE. 281 LOGS AND BRUSHWOOD ARE THROWN IN FOR THE ANIMAL TO STAND UPON, THE ROFES ARE PULLED TIGHT, AND THE PRISONER EMERGES. From a Photo. by} tethered, and all that now remains to be done is to throw in sufficient logs and brushwood to enable the elephant to be raised high enough to scramble out by herself. Everything being ready, Cleopatra was brought alongside. All this time she had been wander- ing about near by, eating leaves and enjoying herself in her native jungle. She put her trunk down and caressed her poor captive relation, who was very pleased to find a friend so near. Then the mahout gave Cleopatra one end of the cable round the elephant’s neck, and mounted her back. He sat just on her neck, with a leg be- hind each ear. Several coolies held on to each heel-rope, and Cleopatra moved the logs away from the mouth of the pit. Then, after a great deal of scuffling, the poor prisoner scrambled out, breathless and exhausted. Recovering herself, she tried to make off, but was firmly held by Cleopatra. After a few vain struggles she was induced to move off in the right direction. Cleopatra allowed no non- Vol. xx.—8. From a Photo. by) sense. With a push here and a_ shove there, she bore he prize away through the narrow jungle path, like a stalwar policeman taking a refractory prisoner tc the lock-up. At a stream she waited and allowed the thirsty prisoner to have a refreshing drink. Then on they went again. With its usual common sense the elephant gave in, and for the rest of the three miles walked calmly by the side of the tame animal. There was another struggle at the cage. The prisoner abso- lutely refused to go in. So the stolid Cleopatra got behind, lowered her mighty head, and in shot the elephant before it had time to rebel again. The ropes were all taken off, and when free the animal charged about, dashing itself against the stout wooden beams which form the cage. Leaves were thrown in, which she seized and flourished about in anger, lifting up | one _leg and beating it with the branch. es In a few aninutes: however, she realized, once more, how fruitless'it all was, so—philosophical as ever—she consoled herself with a bath, and (Wiele. NEARLY OUT—CLEOPATRA, THE TAME ELEPHANT, STANDING BY TO 'REVENT ANV ATTEMPT AT ESCAPE. (S. B. Murray.

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282 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. paid off a few old scores by squirting the water all over the spectators. Next door was the baby elephant, An- thony, caged the day before. ‘The arrival of his big sister made him very excited, and he tried to get at her by climbing up the bars, first with his front legs, and then, finding that way no use, he gravely stood on his head, and felt for the bars with his fat little hind legs. Anthony was not at all frightened of us. We fed him with sugar-cane and tender bamboo shoots ;_ his trunk was too tiny to grasp them properly, so we thrust them into his little pink mouth. I hear he is now as tame as possible, and the larger elephant, who, by the way, is called Irene —Trene; think of it!—is also getting quite gentle and tame. The last elephant, the biggest of all, gave a great deal of trouble. We went to see her taken out. It took four hours to get the ropes “rom a Photo. by S. B. Murray. CLEOPATRA ESCOKTING IRFNE TO THE CAGE. From a Photo. by S. B. Murray. on her, and when she got out of the pit she struggled so violently and was so powerful that poor Cleopatra could not manage her. She was therefore hobbled, but even then she broke away and dashed into the jungle. Cleopatra dashed after her and caught her. Do you remember I said Cleopatra only lost her temper once? It was on this occasion, and she was so cross that she knocked the wild animal down. ‘This poor beast ¢dme to a very unfortunate ‘end. She was brought even- tually to the cage, but had terrible wounds from the ropes, which refused to heal, and so she had to be shot. So, out of a catch of five wild elephants, only the two smallest survived. ‘The pits are now left exposed to view, as no self-respecting ele- phant would be foolish enough to fall in. They will not be wanted for another year.

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The Robbery in the Rue Scribe. By Maurice VERNON. The full details of what has been designated by the police of England, France, and America as the most daring coup in the annals of criminal history —the robbery at the American Express Company’s premises in Paris on the night of April 27th, rg0r— are here placed for the first time before the readers of ‘The Wide World Magazine.” The story is unique in that every particular and incident is vouched for by the persons concerned—by the detectives in the case ; the manager of the Express Company; the coloured lad who was tied up by the robbers; the special agent of the company who had charge of the matter during the search for and prosecution of the robbers; and “ Dutch Gus,” whose evidence was mainly responsible for the conviction of his confederates. safe on the night of April 27th, 1901, gave the sensation - loving Parisians something to talk about for many a day, for the daring and ingenuity of the robbers were almost beyond belief. ‘The affable French, ever ready to recognise clever- ness in any form, were filled with a sort of admiration for the Napoleons of crime who had “pulled off a job”—the odds against the success of which seemed to be a million to one—under circumstances of thrilling interest. In the early part of the year 1900 the Ameri- can Express Company, a firm of world-wide r male } THE AME N EXPRESS COMI: I. V'S OFFICES AT THE CORNER OF From a Photograph. renown, doing an annual business of millions of pounds in the way of banking, shipping, exchange, and as carriers and representatives of various huge railway systems, moved from the. Rue Halévy to more commodious and centrally- located quarters at the corner of the Rue Scribe and the Rue Auber, one of the most frequented portions of the city either by day or night, just opposite being the beautiful French National Opera House, and within less than one minute’s walk the Grand Boulevards, where, until early morning, thousands of persons are continually about, either promenading or sitting on the ° terraces of the various large hotels and popular cafés. THE RUE SCRIBE, PARIS.

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284 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. In their new quarters the Express Company occupied the floors of a very large building. On the ground floor to the left was a spacious public reading and writing’room for the use of their clients, also a space reserved for the clerks of the mail and information eT » departments. To the right as one entered were the desks of the cashier and the paying and receiving tellers. These desks were placed behind wire screens, and under them were placed the safes, containing large sums. On the same side of the room were the desks occu- pied by clerks in charge of the express and freight busi- ness. Behind these was a door opening on the Rue Scribe. This door was used by the employés and for the reception of parcels handled by the company. It was customary each evening after business hours for iron shutters to be lowered outside the windows and doors; these were locked by the night watchman, who slept on the premises—a young coloured man from St. Louis, U.S.A., named Mert Seger. According to his story, all this had been done as usual on the particular night in question, after which he had gone to sleep in his room on the second floor. Atabout oneo’clock Seger was awakened by a heavy weight - pressing upon his chest and a choking sensation in his throat. For some moments he thought he was dreaming, but he opened his eyes to find it stern reality, for a man, whose face was half hidden by a handkerchief worn as - a mask, was kneeling upon him and throttl- ing him. Another man, also’ masked, stood beside the bed with a revolver in his hand, while a third man held a portable electric lantern turned full on the coloured lad’s face. Seger THE KOBBERS. From a Photograph. struggled to get up, but was powerless in the hands of the man who held him by the throat, thus preventing him from calling out. The third man mentioned seemed to be the leader, and spoke with a very pronounced American accent. “Don’t you move,” he said, “or else you will be shot. We have come here to do a little job, and we mean to do it.” The man with the revolver then tied a towel around the coloured lad’s head. Seger resisted, but was struck several violent blows by the other robber who carried the lantern, whereupon he offered no further opposition. After securely gagging Seger, the strangers bound his legs and arms, and, leaving the man with the revolver to look after him, the other two went downstairs. When they reached the lower floor, Seger heard the pair talking and making a great deal of noise ; he heard them dragging things across the floor and heard several things drop. Mean- while, the robber left to guard him stood just beside him, and, although knowing the coloured man could not move, repeatedly warned him that he would be killed without compunction should he make the least effort to free himself or call out. The door leading to the floor below being wide open, Seger could hear a drill being used by the burglars to drill a hole in the cash ““SEGER STRUGGLED TO GET UP, BUT WAS POWERLESS IN THE HANDS OF THE MAN WHO HELD HIM.”

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THE ROBBERY IN THE RUE SCRIBE. safe under the combination, in which an explosive was placed. Then he heard a muffled noise and believed the safe had been opened. There was some talk down below, and finally the man guarding him bent over and said: “Tm going downstairs for a few minutes, and if you move I’ll come back and finish you.” The gag was readjusted, his arms and legs were looked to, then the man, evidently as an after- thought, came back to him and, taking a small bottle of chloroform out of his pogket, poured the contents over the towel covering Seger’s face. The robber stood there for a time until Seger became unconscious from the effectS of the chloroform, and then went down to join his companions. The attempt on the safe had been 285 time not only opened the safe, but blew its lock into pieces and tore the stout steel door into ribbons. The charge used was tremendous— indeed, many of the gold and other coins in the safe were bent double by the force of the explosion. The men now gathered together their spoil, amounting to some eighty thousand francs in cash, cheques, and securities, and without troubling to take their tools with them left the place by the front door, walking calmly out into a street which was as light as day. At six-thirty in the morning, when the man who cleans the offices arrived, he found the small door in the iron shutters wide open. Thinking that Seger had perhaps risen earlier than usual and had opened the door for him, ay SOME FRAGMENTS OF THE SHATTERED LOCK OFTHE SAFE, WITH COINS BENT AND TWISTED BY THE From a Photo, ty) unsuccessful, the dynamite having failed to dis- arrange the combination or force the locks. After a wait of one hour a second and heavier charge was placed in the safe, but again with- out the desired result being effected. Be it remembered that not only were there two powerful electric lamps just outside the com- pany’s premises, and hundreds of people in the immediate vicinity, but the police-station for this particular district was, and is, immediately opposite on the other side of the street. That these desperadoes should try a second charge after their initial failure, running so great a risk of detection, shows that they possessed unlimited nerve. Undismayed by the second fiasco, they tried again, after. another long wait, and this FORCE OF THE EXPLOSION, (Geo. Newnes, Ltd. the cleaner entered the building. There a sight met his gaze which he will never forget. All the carpets and rugs had been ripped up from the floors and dragged over to the safe, battered coins and fragments of cheques and other valuable securities lay strewn about the floor, and the usually orderly office looked as though a cyclone had struck it. The janitor, scenting foul play, rushed upstairs to Seger’s room, where he found the coloured lad almost dead from the effects of his treatment. Quickly he loosened Seger’s arms and legs, tore the gag from his mouth, and proceeded to resuscitate him. Then the manager, Mr. Dalliba, was communicated with and the police over the way notified, and shortly after the pavement was crowded with hundreds of people on their way to work, curious

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286 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. to know what had happened. For hours the pedestrian traffic was blocked by excited crowds, who were under the impression that something was wrong with the Express Company’s funds, and it was found necessary to place the rifled safe on the pavement in order to satisfy public curio- sity and allay the excitement. Meanwhile, Seger, who had partly recovered, was being catechized by officials and police officers. His story was evidently received with a great amount of incredulity by the latter, for he was taken into custody to await deyelop- ments, the police believing that . so astounding and audacious ™- a robbery could not possibly have taken place without in- side assistance, for the thieves had, with unerring certainty, hit on the safe containing the most money, and, moreover, had effected an entrance by using a key which fitted the lock without use of force. So much for the police theory ; but there was a higher department for the unravelling of crime which had yet to pronounce an opinion—a department, moreover, which is recognised as the most astute organization of its kind in existence —the Department de Sireté, or detective force, at that time under the chieftainship of M. Cochfert. In order that the reader may understand the manner in which the officers of the Stireté went to work, it will be necessary to explain some of the methods used by the French detectives. On the boulevards there is virtu- ally a small army of these secret- service men, whose special duty it is to take cognizance of every foreigner they see. They have very little difficulty in discrimi- nating between respectable travellers and an_ undesirable element, for the French detec- tive is taught his calling from the first rudiments and goes to school to learn his business. The public does not know these officers—often they do not know each other, for a man who ten minutes before was _ strolling along dressed as a fashionable exquisite suddenly appears as a DALLIDA, EUROPEAN MANAGER OF THE EXPRESS COMPANY. From a Photograph. M, LEPINE, THE PREFECT OF POLICE, From a Photo, by Henri Manuel. waiter or seller of picture post- cards, or any one of a dozen disguises. Once one of these men suspects that there is something suspicious about a person’s demeanour, he will follow him until he has satis- fied himself that all is well, or has found that his suspicions were well founded. The men who had perpe- trated the robbery at the American Express Company's offices had, in common with many other persons, been for some time under observation. Their behaviour had created ho undue suspicion in the eyes of the Government de- tectives, but it so happened that their frequent visits to one or two banking institutions in Paris — Messrs. Morgan, Hartjes, and Co., and Munroe Brothers’ Bank— had attracted the attention of the detectives em- ployed by these establishments. One or other of the three—then, of course, unknown—paid periodical visits to these two places, and attracted the attention of the bank officers to such an extent that they were “‘snap-shotted ° unknown to themselves. They had been seen to meet at various places, sometimes accom- panied by a stylishly-attired woman. One of the three, moreover, had actually done some business with the Express Company in the way of changing small theques. All this, of course, was far from connecting them with the burglary, any more than a dozen other shady characters who might have been under obser- vation at this time. M. Angel- lier, the detective who had shadowed these men on several occasions, had learned pretty well all about them, but know- ing a man to be a thief and proving a certain crime against him are two different things. So, while the Parisian newspapers were printing columns of con- jecture, and the one topic of conversation at the cafés and brasseries was the affarre of the robbery, the Paris apaches, or hooligans, were rejoicing in the belief that a band of craftsmen had finally arisen who. would prove too clever for the hated detectives, and, whether they

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THE ROBBERY IN wefe American or otherwise, the good wishes of the denizens of Montmartre were with the burglars. Desperate diseases require desperate remedies, and the chief of the detective department was not long in choosing two men to put on this case who would elucidate it if anybody could. ‘The two officers chosen are, without question, among the cleverest men in their profession. The first was Briga- dier (Inspector) M. Debisschop, a handsome, well-made man, slightly below the medium height, with the strength of a lion and a keen intellect ; he is also a linguist, equally at home in several lan- guages; a man who has had so many encounters with desperate criminals that he has forgotten most of them, only the scars he bears remaining as reminders of his experiences. The second de- tective was M. Thevenot, a man noted for his quick decisions, his bravery, and bull-dog tenacity. These two, working together, made a team which boded ill for the much-wanted robbers. Directly these men had been put on the case they went to the prison where young Seger was being detained, and received a clear account of his story and as good a de- scription of his assailants as BRIGADIER M. DEBISSCHOP. From a Photograph. THE RUE SCRIBE. 287 of rope was taken to every, or nearly every, shop in Paris and its environs where such a thing might have been purchased—quite an under- taking in itself, especially as some rope-makers or sellers have a class of customer whom it would be best for many reasons to shield. Success, however, ultimately rewarded their patient efforts, for the shop whence the rope had come was found. It was placed end to end with that in the shopkeeper’s possession, and the two ends, under a magnifying glass, were found to correspond exactly. The seller of the rope gave a description of the pur- chaser as far as he remembered him, and the officers left in search of the next link in what was at present a very short chain of- evidence. The next move was a talk with the principal detectives who were doing the boulevard work referred to. Just at this stage of the pro- ceedings another, daring robbery took place. It was now April goth, three days having elapsed since the safe in the Rue Scribe was blown up. On this day a shop in the Avenue MacMahon, directly opposite the town residence of Mr. Dalliba, the European manager of the American Express Com- pany, and occupied by M. was possible, for Seger had seen only the tops of their: faces, and his excitement at the time made his description rather vague. A visit was next paid to the offices of the Express Company, where the detectives gathered many little . clues which had escaped those making a previous survey. The tools left by the robbers were of American make, consisting of a full set of safe-breakers’ implements, from a “twirl” to a “time fuse,” and must have cost.a large sum. As these things are sold in America by persons who must be more or less in touch with their cus- tomers, inquiry there would have been futile even could the manufacturers have been traced. They next looked over the rope with which Seger hhad been tied. All ropes are more or less alike, varying only in thickness, but to the detectives this was a valuable find. The piece DRTECTIVE M, THEVENOT. From a Photograph. Heitzeberg, a dealer in curios and precious stones, was entered in the afternoon and twenty - five thousand francs stolen. M. Heitzeberg had locked up his establishment at two o’clock with the intention of going to his apartments in the Rue Etoile. Before leav- ing he fastened the door lead- ing from the basement into his shop above. Hardly had he got out of sight of the shop when two men approached from opposite directions. One remained on guard, while the other, taking a key from his pocket, opened the door, and, going swiftly to the safe, prised the door open with a lever. Then, inserting a piece of flexible steel, he reversed the lock bolts and removed from the safe the money it contained. At that instant his accomplice gave a shrill whistle, and quick as a flash the robber shut the safe and ran down the stairs leading into the

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288 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. basement. The man on guard had seen a .young woman making for the shop door; she was a servant, sent by Mme. Burville, of 4, Boulevard Pereire. The girl entered the shop just in time to see a figure disappear down the stairway. She thought it was M. Heitzeberg, and waited some minutes for him to return. Finally, as no one appeared, she came to the conclusion that she must have been mistaken and went round to the concierge or caretaker, Mme. Page, and told her that there was no one in the shop. This person sent a woman to fetch M. Heitzeberg.’ This gentleman, thinking only that a customer wished to see him, returned leisurely, passing on the way two men, who, as they neared him, turned their faces away. On seeing his shop door open the jeweller hurried inside, but observing nothing amiss in the shop descended into the basement, finding on the stairs a valuable chronometer which he had some hours before placed in the safe. Hurriedly he returned to the shop, to find that the safe had been opened and robbed. The police being called in, it was found that the steel jemmy was an exact countérpart of the one left by the robbers at the Express office ! M. Chapel, the police commissary, came to the conclusion that the robber and his accom- plice must have been admirably acquainted with the premises, just as had the Express robbers, but there was no glue. For just as one firm may sell a great amount of some staple article, so a competent jemmy manufactuter may dispose of his wares to dozens of persons, each article being exactly alike. Detec- tives Debisschop and Thevenot, though they knew all the details, set this case aside for the moment, and went ahead interviewing the “ Boulevard squad.” One officer after another was drained of his information, and many an Ameri- can and Englishman of position and wealth had his doings in the Gay City rigidly looked into, for no man is innocent in France until he proves himself so. In the course of their work the two officers reached M. Angellier, their brother detective, who had come across the three suspected men and had shadowed them. Now, indeed, there was “something doing,” for his description of one of the trio corresponded with the man who bought the rope, and his record showed that this person had been shadowed to an hotel in the Rue Rivoli, No. 42, where he was registered WAY STATION, GeoRGE MILLER (“DUTCH GUS”) WHO WAS ARRFSTRD AT THE RAIL- “GAVE AWAY” From a Photograph. box in the as “James Samuel.” It was also learned that the bank detectives before mentioned had “snapped ” this man as a suspicious character. The officers hurried to the hotel in the Rue Rivoli, but Mr. James Samuel had left there for some destination unknown. A thorough search of his room revealed nothing, and in less than no time every railway station and other possible exit was under surveillance—which means, in France, that a fly could hardly get away without being seen by a detective. It was now learned, from “ information received,” that the American Express Company robbers were making a bee- line for America, and that their place of embarkation was to be Liverpool. Detectives Debisschop and Thevenot, therefore, on the morning of May 2nd, 1gor, arrived early at the Gare du Nord Railway Station, intending tu travel with all speed to Liverpool, the police officials there having, of course, received instruc- tions regarding the wanted men. Early as: was the arrival of the two detectives there had been an earlier one at the railway station, for as the two officers presented them- selves at the ticket window they saw in front of them a well-dressed man carrying a small leather bag, who purchased a second-class ticket to London for the morning train which was leaving in a few minutes. As this man left the window the detectives recognised him as Mr. “ James Samuel,” alias several other things, but whose real name was George Miller, and who was known to his intimates as “ Dutch Gus.” The detectives acted quickly, approaching their man one on each side. ‘I hold a warrant for your arrest,” said Brigadier De- bisschop, in a quiet voice, tapping the man on the shoulder. “ You will have to come with us.” The man gave M. Debisschop one piercing look, and then said, “Well, I’m hanged! That’sclever.” The prisoner, ‘Dutch Gus,” was taken to the Préfecture and searched. The bag he carried contained a large number of cheques stolen from the Express Company’s safe and six thousand francs in-cash, while in a small bottom of the bag were found a number of dynamite cartridges and, carefully wrapped in cotton, a complete set of burglars’ tools of the latest or “folding” type, consisting of some boring tools, an electric “sweater,” and a jemmy of the finest steel. At the Préfecture Miller was interrogated by M. Leydet, the examining AND ULTIMATELY HIS ACCOMPLICES. — a

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THE ROBBERY IN THE RUE SCRIBE. magistrate. Here “Dutch Gus,” as he was called, spoke as follows :— “Well, you have made a clever capture. I have been caught with the goods, so there is no use in my trying to dehy it. I will make a full confession, but first let me say that the negro, Seger, is innocent and should be turned loose ; he had nothing to do with the case.” The police at once saw they were dealing with a weakling, a man who was a mere assistant to far abler craftsmen. The magistrate now queried, “You will tell me, then, who your confederates were ?” “ Dutch Gus” hesitated a moment, evidently thinking matters over. ‘“‘ Yes, I will,” he replied. “They were ‘Kid’ McManus and Tom Edwards.” The reader will perhaps understand the emotions of the detectives present at this declaration, for “Kid” McManus was known in America as the “King of Goph Men,” or safe-breakers; and in “Tom Edwards” the French detectives recognised one of the aliases of perhaps the most daring, reckless, all-round “crook ” of modern times—Edward Guerin. “Dutch Gus” was left in charge of the Prefect of Police, and the two detec- tives returned to the Gare du Nord, taking the next “Kip” MEMANUS, express in their hunt for ceimwat, Guerin. From a} While Debisschop and Thevenot, fresh from their capture of George Miller, alias “Dutch Gus,” were making for the Continental Express in their chase after “Tom Edwards,” the second of the American Express Company’s robbers, “Dutch Gus” himself was taken in hand by the Prefect of Police. In the presence of this gentleman and several officers he told the following story :— To begin with, the job in the Rue Scribe was an afterthought, for when I came to Paris McManus was framing up a “touch” at one of the banks. I met Edwards and the woman in the case, whom I knew as “ Chicago May,” at a café in the Boulevard des Italiens. McManus asked me if I would like to “work” with him and Edwards, and I told him “Yes.” I was told they would do all the work, my part being Vol. xx.—37. A NOTOKIOUS AMERICAN WHO WAS ALSO CONCERNED IN THE ROBBERY. 289 that of an assistant. First we looked over the premises of Morgan, Hartjes, and Co., and I went there day after day, trying to find out not only where the money was kept, but just what the chances were. McManus and Edwards also paid this bank several visits, but suspicion was aroused there, and I noticed that I was watched every time I went into the place. Next we tried Munroe Brothers’ Bank, but this did not look good enough. Then, one day, it was suggested that the American Express Company looked easy, and we made up our minds to go after the safe there. - We learned that the black boy Seger was the only person on the premises at night, and careful observa- tion for a long time showed us just which of the safes held the big money. “We made ourselves _ perfectly familiar with the premises, and set the job down for a given night, providing that I could manage to secrete my- self in the building early in the afternoon. The whole thing was mapped out and figured down to a point that left no room for failure—if, of course, I could do my part. We had the dynamite and the necessary tools, and purchased a rope wherewith to tie up Seger. A look at the safe led us to believe that a very small charge would open it, and if that was the case the explosion would attract no attention from the outside. Well, on the appointed afternoon I went into the reading-room at the Express office, and, waiting my chance, attempted to secrete myself. This opportunity did not occur, however, so the job was postponed. The next time, on the 27th, I found the coast clear, and at about half- past five in the afternoon I crept down into the basement of the premises and looked about me for a hiding-place. There were several to choose from, but I decided on a small cubby- hole underneath the stairway leading into the annexe. I wrenched the lock off this and found the recess to be so small that I had to crawl in and lie almost doubled up on my stomach. After a time my muscles ached so much that I thought I should not_be able to stand the pain, (Photograph.

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2y0 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE, but I made up my mind to go through with it at all costs. It seemed an eternity before the place quieted down, and it was so dark in my hiding-place that I could not see my watch to tell the time. Again, in an agony of cramp, I resolved to get out and hide elsewhere; and just as I had pushed the small door partly open and was about to crawl out I heard someone coming down the large stairway leading from the office above! ‘There were voices, and I took my revolver out of my pocket ready for an emer- gency. As the voices came nearer I recognised them as belonging to Mr. Dodsworth, the cashier, and Seger, the black boy. ‘hey passed within six inches of my hiding-place, and had there been the slightest hesitation on their part I should have fired. Mr. Dodsworth, however, mounted the three steps under which I lay, and, seating himself there, had his boots polished by Seger—just over and within the width of a board of my head! They joked for awhile and then returnéd upstairs. I could stand the agony and suspense no longer, so I opened the door and crawled out to stretch myself. I can tell you I needed it! Looking at my watch, I saw it was just after eight o’clock. I had been in that hole for several hours. I was dreadfully thirsty, but did not dare take chances by going upstairs to seek water. After a few minutes I heard the outside. office-door slam and the iron shutters being pulled down. Then I hurriedly crept back under the stairs, expecting the watchman to make a tour of inspection before going to bed. He came, sure enough, and passed close by me, but did not discover me. ‘Then he ‘went upstairs, closing the door after him. I now came out and seated myself on the stairs, for I had a good long wait before me. Midnight was the hour decided upon for our attempt upon the safe, and in that dark basement I waited patiently until shortly after twelve, when I silently mounted the stairs into the offices above. Everything was as quiet as a churchyard within, but I could hear the cabs driving by outside and also the orchestra playing at a café near by. I took several drinks of water from the filter, and then made my way up another flight of stairs to Seger’s bedroom; all was quiet there, the negro being fast asleep. I went down again, and, taking a key which had been made from an impression of the tock, put it into the small iron door which formed part of the shutters outside the entrance of the place. It worked perfectly, and, according to instruc- tions, instead of opening the door stealthily I threw it wide open. Quick as a flash Edwards and McManus came in, and I could see our “dummy ”—the woman posted to give us warning of trouble— watching on the opposite pavement by the Opéra. “Everything all right?” asked my com- panions, anxiously. “Yes,” I answered; “the negro is in the feathers upstairs.” All three of us now ascended the stairs, having first closed both the outer doors behind us and locked them. Edwards went first, then me, and McManus brought up the rear. Arrived at Seger’s door, it was quietly pushed open. Edwards stood at the foot of the bed with his pistol in his hand, while I and McManus “went for” Seger. McManus took the negro by the throat and placed his knee on Seger’s chest, while I caught his wrists. The negro woke up at once, and I have never seen such a frightened look on a man’s face before. We were all masked, and I don’t blame the boy for being scared. Edwards spoke first. ‘If you care to be alive to-morrow,” he said, ‘don’t you dare make a move.” I had the rope in my pocket inside my coat, and we proceeded to tie Seger securely. McManus now said, “ Look here, we have come to do a little job, and we mean to do it. You keep quiet and no harm will come to you.” At the same time he gave the boy a couple of whacks to show we meant business. Edwards and McManus, taking the tools, now went down- stairs, leaving me with Seger. I heard them getting things ready for the blow-off; then, after atime, I heard the explosion. The noise this made frightened me, for they had used a big charge, and I imagined it could be heard streets away. I decided to go down and join them, so, after seeing to the negro’s bonds and gagging and chloroforming him, I joined the pair below. They were in a rage, for the thing hadn’t come off as expected ; the safe had resisted the charge. All the available carpets and rugs had been placed around the safe to deaden the sound and the electric fuse switched on, but all to no purpose. We looked out through a small open- ing in the shutters, but the “look-out” was still in her place, so evidently we had attracted no attention. Edwards and McManus now attacked the safe in all sorts of ways, but the door wouldn’t budge. “Tt’s no use going on like this,” said Edwards, at last. “We will wait an hour, and then give her another jolt.” I felt a little scared about this, for the first explosion had been loud enough to waken the dead, but Edwards and McManus knew no such fear ; they wanted the money, and intended getting it. We now pulled up every bit of mat- ting and carpet in the place, up and down stairs,

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THE ROBBERY IN THE RUE SCRIBE. 2gt and wrapped it about the safe. Then another charge was inserted, larger than the first, and after a wait of an hour the fuse was touched off. Again there was a terrific explosion, but the safe remained intact. I expected certain dis- covery this time—but no, everything was clear, and the “look-out” was still at her post. This second failure made my companions simply wild with anger. I proposed giving it up, but they were determined, and my vote didn’t count. I went upstairs to look after the negro, but he was still in a stupor and quite secure. Meanwhile McManus and Edwards put a giant charge into the lock and crevices of the safe.and covered it up again. We sat there waiting for another hour before making the third attempt. Then McManus jumped up suddenly, walked over to the fuse, and, saying, “By Heaven, she’ll open this time,” set a match to it. Well, she did open all right, and so did we almost, for the explosion in the confined chairs were broken by the concussion. The place looked as though a hurricane had struck it. The contents of the safe were strewn all over the place, some of the paper money was torn into bits, and the copper and gold coin was much mutilated. We now gathered up everything in sight and placed it in our pockets ; then, after a glance outside through the opening in the shutters, we opened the doors and walked out into the street, leaving our tools behind us. Edwards and McManus walked in one direction and I in another, and it was only when I had reached the second turning and looked back that 1 saw we had left the outer door wide open. I went home to my hotel and had a good sleep. Edwards and McManus parted and also went to their hotels. The next day we met and the coin was divided. You have got my bit in that bag, all but a few hundred francs.” Miller further stated that the money-orders ‘THE EXPLOSION IN THE CONFINED SPACK SOUNDED TERRIFIC.” space sounded terrific. The door flew off, and pieces of the safe lock flew all over the place ; the carpets were torn to shreds, and several stolen had been sent to England to be disposed of by a confederate there, who also got rid of some of them in Berlin, Germany. Before

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292 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. being removed toa cell, he again turned to the prefect and said, “Seger is in custody and should be turned loose, for the boy is innocent of any complicity.” We will now fol- low the detectives, whose search for Edwards had led thém to book by the express for the Channel steamer. Messrs. Debisschop and Thevenot arrived at the Gare du Nord Station and __ proceeded to make themselves comfortable in a com- partment on the corridor train. The two detectives sat opposite one another, and before long the boat-train was speeding on its way to Boulogne. It had proceeded some few EDWARD GUFRIN, ALIAS. EDWARDS.” From a Photograph. TOM a miles when M. Thevenot suggested going into a smoking compartment to enjoy a smoke. Just at this instant an immaculately -attired gentleman in frock-coat, top hat, and with a large cigar in his mouth, walked by the com- partment in which the detectives sat. M. Debis- schop, happening to look in that direction, saw this individual pass. His brother detective had risen to go into the smoker, but Debisschop pulled him back into the seat, hastily referred to his pocket note-book in which he was carrying a photograph, and, after giving this a long, steady look, turned to his comrade. “Our man is on this very train,” he said, quickly ; “ he has just passed that door on his way to the smoking compartment. There is no doubt about it. He tallies with this photograph.” The officers leisurely buttoned up their coats, M. Debisschop took his warrant of arrest out of his pocket, and with determination stamped on their faces the two men left the compartment, coming face to face with the man they were looking for — Edward Guerin, alias “Tom Edwards ”—standing in the corridor ! j Giaearan American Express Company, Fontiin Ourseruent, otagnomes Qnoven am teat Camumrs ot a Penns. Cus a Pee ore Comme A, Pane, June 88th. 1907 Editor, FRE WIDE WORLDS LONDON Dear sir, goemine. LC /PBe- I have the pleasure of substantiating the visit of your Mr. ‘H. Mo VERROM, in certifying that the pieces of metal handed him are part of the débris of the look belonging to the Safe which was blom up by dynamite on our premises on the night of April 97.1901. tafy the photographs of Guérin, MoMannus, Miller, Cmirchill and Segar as WEROMANTD DESPATCH TRAMGFORTATION 00. seme retoranes 226, 1 ow raphy. pecan qnete And I also ide. ~ Yours truly,. A LETTER FROM M, CONTANSEAU, OF THE RXPRESS COMPANY, AUTHENTICATING THE PHOTOGRAFHS WHICH ACCOMPANY THIS NARKATIVE, (To be continued.) |

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« Shanghaied t” By E. J. Murpny. A sailor's plain tale of an exciting adventure at San FPrancisco—how he was decoyed away from his ship, drugged, and placed on board an outward-bound vessel. At the last moment, however, he turned the tables upon his ruffianly captors and escaped. will wonder what the term “ shang- haied” means, but those who are well versed in sea-life will understand. Briefly, it means this: A sailor will leave his ship at night-time after his day’s work is finished, and will take a walk to see the sights of the foreign city he is then in. He has no money in his pockets—quite a usual thing with Jack—and goes strolling round the lower part of the city, that part which is termed “ Sailor Town.” Naturally enough, he meets with a boarding-house “runner,” who hails him heartily. The “runner,” of course, has sized Jack up, and immediately asks Jack to come and have a drink, which the sailor accepts right hastily for fear the man might change his mind. After they have had their drink they go on _ to a few more drinking dens and have several other drinks, eventually arriving at the “runner’s” boarding-house. Here Jack is asked to have a final drink, and, as this one is drugged, Jack shortly afterwards goes to sleep—waking up next morning to find himself at sea on board a strange ship! Perhaps he had spent twelve months in the ship he left the night before, with the full inten- tion of returning to it, and had, most likely, a sum of thirty pounds due to him. All this he loses, for he will be put down as a deserter and forfeit everything, even to his clothes. As I mentioned before, he is in a strange ship, and does not even know for what port he is bound. Neither does he know what he has signed on as, or what money per month he is to receive ; in fact, he knows nothing, and he dares not ask. If he were to trouble either the captain or the officers, they would probably knock him down. Eventually he finds out everything as he pro- ceeds on his voyage, and consoles himself by telling his shipmates about his last ship ; but he never tells them that he was “ shanghaied.” The boarding-house “runner” cares not a jot how much money is due to his victim, nor does he inquire. He receives so much from the owner of the boarding-house for every man he brings in, and the owner of the house in turn receives a fee from the captain of the ship for every man he puts on board, and two months’ advance of their pay, to be handed over to him when the ship leaves the port. And that is what ‘ shanghaing ” means. At the time I was “shanghaied ”—which was at San Francisco, in those days one of the worst places in the world for buying and selling sailors—the wages were six pounds per mtonth, which was high compared with the paltry wage of three pounds that sailors got in England. Naturally enough, the boarding-house men tried to “shanghai” as many men as they could possibly lay their hands on; and I happened to be one of the unlucky ones. ¢ It occurred about fourteen years ago. I was then an apprentice on board the English four- masted barque Crompton, and, although I was only a boy in age, I was a man in height and proportions, and I think it was this fact that led to my being ‘“ shanghaied.” We were berthed at Beale Street wharf, and were discharging coal which we had brought from Newcastle, New South Wales. On the first Saturday afternoon that we were alongside the stevedores stopped working at 1 p.m., and were not going to resume work again until Monday morning. There were six of us appren- tices on board and two sailors, and as the mate wanted the ship clean for Sunday he told us to go ahead and wash her down; as soon as we had finished and straightened up we could knock off for the day. Of course we hurried up, and by 3 p.m. we had finished everything. After- wards we washed ourselves and got dressed ready for going ashore. ‘I’hen we sat about the deck to await the coming of the captain, so as to get a few shillings from him as pocket- money. Whilst we were waiting several of the shore- folk visited the ship. They had come down to look over her; so, seeing them standing about the deck, I volunteered to show them around. One gentleman whom I showed round, a man of middle age, was very affable and talked to me as if I were his son, telling me how much he longed to get back to the old country—meaning England. He told me his name was Chris- tophersen and asked me if I had been up to see

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294 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the sights of the city. When I replied in the negative he offered to show me round. I imme- diately accepted his offer, but told him I was going to wait until I could get some money from the captain. He pooh-poohed this idea and seemed quite insulted because I had mentioned such a thing. fully accepted his offer to go up town with him. We had a nice time together; he showed me thé sights, treated me to the theatre, and ended up by giving me a good supper at one of the principal restaurants. Afterwards he put me on a car and sent me down to my ship, with the From a) promise that I would go to tea with him the next evening. When I arrived on board I was full of him and told my shipmates that he was a thorough gentleman. I could hardly sleep that night for thinking of the time I had had, and wondering if I should enjoy myself as much the next evening. Little did I think of what awaited me! However, Sunday evening came round, and with it arrived my friend; and as I was already dressed and waiting on the gangway, we headed up the wharf and made for the city. He took me to the same restaurant that we went to the previous evening and ordered a sumptuous meal. Whilst we were partaking of the good things he told me that he was a brewer; and as I had a slight recollection of having seen the name “Christophersen” on some of the showcards in the saloon windows I accepted his statement. He also told me he was going to take me to his I therefore apologized and grate- . THE FOUR-MASTED BARQUE “CROMPTON,” home and introduce me to his wife and daughter. The reason he had taken such a liking to me, he added, was because I greatly resembled a son of his who had died. I was quite delighted, and told him so. We finished the meal, and he paid the bill and supplied me with cigarettes ; then we made our way to the car. “This is our car,” he said, when we got out- side. Then, suddenly stopping and bringing his right fist into the palm of his left hand with an irritated gesture, he said :— “Bother it! I’ve gone and forgotten a little bit of business up I had to trans- act before I went home! It’s a customer of mine, who has a little beer saloon down in the lower part of the city, and I have to see him to-night. You won’t mind if I leave you for half an hour? You can go into the smoking - room of the restau- rant and have a smoke until I come back.” “Oh, no!” said I, never suspecting that I was falling into the trap he had laid for me. “T'll come with you.” He commenced to remonstrate against my going, but I would not listen to him ; I told him 1 could not think of letting him go by himself. We boarded a car which took us past many evil-looking streets ; but where it actually took us to I could not tell. I know we got out some- where by the docks and walked down a dirty, narrow, ill-paved street, with dilapidated-looking houses on either side. We went on until we came to a saloon, the window of which was lighted by a couple of dirty oillamps. We did not go into the saloon, but knocked at the side door. It was opened almost immediately by an evil-looking old woman, who, after inquiring as to whom my friend wanted, allowed us to enter and showed us into a cosy little parlour, which was splendidly furnished, quite out of keeping with its dirty surroundings. When we seated ourselves the old woman (Photograph.

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“SHANGHAIED !” 295 departed, and a few minutes later the person my friend had come to see appeared on the scene. He wasa man of middle height and of un- certain age; to my eyes he had the appearance of a man who had just come out of prison. They shook hands, and then I was introduced to him, his name being Chap- man. The pair were just going -to talk about business, when Chapman said :— “Let’s have a drink first!” and stretching over the table he rang a small bell, whereupon the old woman returned. The two men said they would have whiskies and sodas, and, as I would not have any strong drink, Chap- man told her to bring me a cherry-brandy. She departed, and Chapman and my friend commenced talking about beer, chat- ting in such a business- like manner that they drove any little suspicion Thad out of my thoughts. When the old woman re- turned with the drinks, therefore, I raised my glass with the others and wished them good health, emptying the draught to the last drop. Then I went on reading the paper that Chapman had thrown me, whilst they talked about their beer. T had barely looked at more than a couple of head-lines when I began to feel dizzy. ‘Surely that little drop of wine is not making me drunk ?” I thought. Then I felt my limbs getting numb, and the paper I was holding fell out of my hands. With a great effort I jumped to my feet and made for the door, for the startling thought came to. my mind that I had been drugged. I was not wrong in my thought either, for I had onlytaken about two steps when I fell with a crash to the floor. I managed to raise myself on my elbows and tried to yell, but my tongue clung to the roof of my mouth and I could not utter a “(t JUMPED TO MY PERT AND MADE FOR THE DOOR,” sound. My eyes were getting sightless, but I could see the forms of the two men standing over me laughing, and Chapman said, jeeringly :— “ All right, sonny; yer needn’t struggle, ’cause it’s no use. Anyhow, yer'll be aboard a nice little yacht ter:morrow |” 1 lost consciousness then, and knew no more until I woke up with a splitting pain in my head. I was dazed for the time being, and could not make out where 1 was. It was daylight, for I could see the rays of the sun shining through a skylight in a wooden roof. I looked to either side of me and found that T)was in a bunk.

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296 THE WIDE “Oh, I know where I am,” I thought, stupidly. “I am on board my own ship.” But what was this pain in my head? As J pondered over it everything flashed before me, and Chapman’s last words resounded in my ears. Raising myself to a sitting posture, I surveyed the place I was in. It was a small, stuffy hole, filthy dirty, and oblong in shape. ‘There were sixteen bunks, six on either side, two at the top, and two at the bottom. Alongside of the sky- light, which was in the centre of the room, there was a ladder leading down, so I took this to be the entrance, as there seemed to be no other means of getting out. Whilst I was taking in the surroundings I could hear the well-known click, click of a ship’s cable, and knew that the anchor was getting hove in; I also realized that I was in the fore- castle of a ship that was not my own. Everything was clear to me now; I knew I had been “ shanghaied.” - ‘The thought of it almost drove me mad. 1 leaped out of the bunk and looked about for my clothes; but I did not seem to have any, for there were none about the bunk I had just vacated. I surveyed myself up and down, and discovered that I had on an old cotton shirt and a suit of dungarees. Even my boots had been changed, for on my feet were a pair of heavy Blucher boots instead of the good pair I had when I left my ship. When I had taken proper stock of myself, I could almost have yelled with rage; and if I could have laid my hands on Mr. “Christophersen” just then, I do not think his life would have been worth much. Presently I noticed that I was not the only person. in the place; there were two others besides myself. There was a man in the bunk directly opposite mine ; he was lying all of a heap and snoring like a sty full of pigs, and the smell of liquor that came from him was enough to make an ordinary teetotaller drunk. In the next bunk to mine was another man ; he looked like a corpse. When I scrutinized him closer I found to my horror that there was , no heave of the chest; he was not breathing. 1 was just going to shake him to see if he was really alive, when I heard voices coming from the ladder. ‘Turning round, I saw that the door at the top of the ladder was open and two men were descending. They were rough-looking fellows of middle age, and fairly big. I took them to be the mates of the ship. Nor was I wrong, for when the first man saw me he came out with a string of oaths and said :— “Oh, there's one of the ‘scallaways’ sober!” Then he came rushing towards me, wanting to know what I meant by loafing in the fore- WORLD MAGAZINE. castle when the anchor was being hove up. Finally he commenced to wipe the deck with me, and ended by slinging me half-way up the ladder. When, still half-dazed, I tried to explain, the second man kicked me up the rest of the steps and threw me out on deck, shout- ing, as he did so:— “Tl teach yer to give cheek !” Propelled by his boot, I went flying up against the bulwarks of the ship, and struck them very hard; then I collapsed in the scuppers. I sat there helpless for a few seconds, feeling very sore. Then I struggled to my feet and made my way to the forecastle-head, where a crowd of men were heaving the anchor up. I ~ knew it was no use to try to explain things, and, as I was half dead with pain and had no desire to pass through another cyclone of wrath, I ‘climbed the small ladder leading to the fore- castle-head. The man who was in charge, whom I took to be the boatswain, thought I was not moving quick enough, so he took hold of me by the back of the neck and sent me flying across the forecastle-head, with a string of lurid swear-words following me up. I fell, nearly knocking my brains out against a pair of bitts. I was beginning to get used to this sort of treatment, but, as I thought I could improve matters a lot if I set to work, I jumped to my feet like a harlequin, clapped on to the handle- bar on the port side, and commenced heaving up and down with the rest. I had barely time to catch hold of the bar when I saw the snoring man come out of the forecastle and come running along the deck as if he was in a hurry. By his ruffled’ appearance “I should say he had passed through the same sort of cyclone at the hands of the mates as I hed. I watched to see if the other man would come up, but he did not. Five or ten minutes later the two mates came up, talking very earnestly ; and by the look in their faces I sur- mised that the man was really dead. However, all these little incidents faded away from my thoughts when I looked about me. I found that I was in an old wooden ship, and I could see the tug-boat ahead of us, with her hawser made fast to our bow and ready for towing as soon as the anchor came off the bottom. I looked aft to see what nationality the vessel was, although I had no occasion to do so, for the American twang of the two mates told me what she was before I saw the stars and stripes flying at the peak on the mizenmast. We were lying in the middle of the bay and about two miles from the shore, and when I came to think- about (my,position seriously and

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“SHANGHAIED !” 297 “1 LEAPED OFF THE RIGGING INTO THE WATER.” thought of the comfortable ship I had been taken from I was in two minds whether I should jump over the side and try to swim to shore or stop on board. However, before I had time to make up my mind the order came from Vol. xx.—38, the mate to stop heaving, and after that I had not much time to think, for I was busily engaged with the rest catting and fishing the anchor. When we had finished this job I noticed that the tug-boat had (towed-usyvery nearly up to the

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298 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Narrows, and I stood watching the shore long- ingly. I was also wondering when I should see my home again. Suddenly the mate’s gruff voice and the toe of his boot on the seat of my trousers brought me back to the reality of things with a jerk. “Git up thet mizen rigging,” he yelled, “and cast thet runnin’ gear adrift! An’ don’t let me ketch yer loafin’ again, or I'll make it pretty hot fer yer.” I went to where I was told, and commenced to cast the gear adrift. It was about five feet above the poop where I was working, and the captain was pacing the deck directly underneath me. So, thinking he would take compassion on me, I commenced to shout my troubles to him, asking him to send me back by the tug- boat. He glared at me in surprise, and spluttered out a few swear-words. Then, without uttering a word, he rushed towards the pin-rail, grabbed a wooden belaying-pin, and made to come up the rigging after me. My heart sank down to my boots, for this was more than I expected. I. knew I was in fora hiding, and the misery of the whole thing came before me. Heaven only knew how long it was for; maybe the voyage might last two years or more! I glanced round, seeking some means of escape, and was thinking about running farther up the rigging, when my eyes caught the sandy beach on the port hand—the side of the rigging I was working on. We were passing the Golden Gate at the time, and I thought we were not more than a quarter of a mile from the beach. So, without the slightest hesitation, I leaped off the rigging into the water. I struck the surface with a heavy splash and went under. When I rose again I saw that the ship had passed a good way ahead, so I kicked my boots off and commenced swimming towards the shore for dear life. I knew as I swam on that they would never catch me, for by the time the captain could give the alarm and make the tug-boat understand that he wanted to stop. I should be ashore. Nevertheless I swam on as fast as I could. I must have misjudged the distance, for I seemed to have covered more than a quarter of a mile, and yet J was still a long way from the beach. Perhaps it was that I was excited, and sore from the knocking-about I had received on board, but I began to feel exhausted, and my clothes hung heavily to my limbs. Once or twice I thought I could hear the- splash of oars behind me ; but I did not stop to listen, nor did I look in the direction of the ship. After a while I seemed to pass into a sort of trance ; I could feel my arms and legs growing weaker, and my long strokes dropped toa paddle. I could also feel my legs dropping to a perpen- dicular position from sheer weariness, and I was just beginning to sink when my toes touched the sandy bottom. I did not seem to care whether I sank or not just then, and it was well for me that I was close inshore, or I should certainly have -been drowned. However, my dreamy condition soon vanished when I found that I was standing on solid ground, and -it was not long before I was out of the water and walking up the sandy beach. J looked in the direction the ship had gone and found that they had not stopped, and there was no sign of a boat coming after me. J there- fore ran up the beach, clear of the tide-mark, and lay down on the dry sand for a rest. The sun was shining brightly, so I did not feel cold, and, being exhausted and tired, I fell fast asleep. I did not know how long I slept, but when I woke the sun had disappeared below the horizon and night was coming on. I jumped to my feet and made my way towards San Francisco, for I could see the city in the distance. It is useless to describe my journey back to the ship. It was a long walk, and after a lot of inquiries I managed to get on board my ship. I did not attract any attention or suspicion as I passed through the streets, for at that time it was usual to see a man strolling through the streets dressed much as I was. When I told my tale to the captain he would not believe me. He said I had sold my clothes and had got drunk with the money. And as I could neither show him the place I went to nor any proof of the truth of my story, he chased me out of the cabin and told me I was a young blackguard, strictly forbidding me from going ashore again. I had one consolation, though, and that was the pleasure of knowing that I had done the rascally boarding-master out of the two months’ pay he would have received had I stopped in the ship; for when the pilot came back to San Francisco he would report that I had escaped, and the fee would be forfeited. That is my first experience of being “shanghaied”; I fervently hope it will be my last.

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Our Christmas Dinner - Party. By GERTRUDE PaGE. This amusing little story, told by a Rhodesian farmer’s wife, will give home-keeping readers some idea of what Christmas means out on the South African veldt. peewee Y dear,” said The Man, “er—don’t ‘\ s) ‘a you think we might give a little h VA. dinner to celebrate Christmas this Fea year?” ——= When The Man begins a sen- tence with ‘My dear,” I always know a remonstrance or a proposition is coming and he is not at all sure of its reception. “We certainly might make an attempt,” I replied, a little frigidly. ‘A Christmas dinner- party prepared by a ten-year-old little nigger boy ought at any rate to be unique, if nothing else.” ‘The Man carefully scraped out his pipe and knocked it against the veranda post before venturing farther. “T thought,” he said, at last, “we might invite the Major for one, and ask him to send over his cook- boy in the after- noon to cook the dinner.” “And had it also occurred to you it would be a good idea to ask him to provide a turkey as swell?” I asked. “They are thirty shillings apiece in Salis- bury.” “Yes,” he re- plied, promptly. “He told me he was going to kill one and invite us over to help him eat it. Much better let him bring it here.” I was ironing serviettes, and I finished the one in progress carefully before responding. “You are evidently a past-master in great ideas,” I said, finally. “To invite a man to dinner, and to suggest that he should not only provide the cook but the food also, reaches heights I have never yet sighted.” The Man laughed. “That’s all right,” he said. “ Why, the Major will think it’s a grand tip!” Well, in the end, he had his way. The ‘THE AUTHORESS, WHO HERE RELATES HER AMUSING EXPERIENCES OF A CHRISTMAS DINNER IN SOUTH AFRICA. : From a Photograph. Major was invited, also his cook-boy—who had been with him in West Africa, as we afterwards realized to our cost—and also his turkey. Our other guests were the Commissioner for the district and Bobbie St. John, the irresponsible nephew of a duke, who was playing at farming on the next farm. When Christmas Day arrived I awoke with a feeling of anxiety, for now that the thing was finally undertaken I was anxious to do it well. All our three guests were accustomed tu the “best” at home, and I had a great notion of making the Christmas feed Englishy by giving them the nearest approach to “the best” I could manage out here. My house- hold staff consisted solely of three little nigger boys, ranging from about six years to ten— the ten-year-old being the cook; but as the Major’s boy was coming along I refrained from worrying on that score. I merely presented them all with an extra large piece of soap, and im- pressed upon their woolly heads that they were to wash their “limbo” cleaner than it had ever been washed before. Neverthe- less, the imported cook-boy proved the first source of disaster. He came along all right enough, and he brought the turkey with him; but, apparently, in a fit of self-important cleverness, he had taken upon himself to do: it the previous day. When I saw that cold boiled turkey I could have cried ! What in the world could anyone do with a cold boiled turkey for a Christmas dinner-party ? Instead of crying I consulted The Man. After all, it was Azs party. “Roast it lightly as well,” he said, with an irritating cheeriness. (“They'll never know!”

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300 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. In the end he proved quite right, but that did not help the fact that from that moment my heart began to quail before what I had under- taken. When I had put the finishing touches to the dinner-table, repeated various instructions in the kitchen for about the hundredth time, and left myself barely time enough to dress, The Man suddenly floored me with the question, ‘ Do you suppose they'll come in evening dress ?” “Goodness gracious !” I exclaimed, with dire visions of the hunt that would ensue for his own dress-clothes if they were wanted. “Surely not!” The Man looked doubtful. “Kingston may,” he said, naming the Com- missioner. “But Bobbie and the Major would never dream of it; he’s sure to think of that.” “ Guess I'll risk it,” said The Man. The Irresponsible Nephew arrived first, and he was fairly bubbling over at his own attire. ‘Yo our amazement, and to all intents and pur- poses, it consisted of a dress-suit ! “What-ho!” he cried. ‘‘ Not dressed yet ? By Jove! Look at me! Feel as if I ought to call a hansom and drive to the Carlton. Haven’t been in a dress-suit for three years!” “But where, in the name of goodness——” began The Man. é “Ah! ah!” laughed Bobbie. ‘“That’s my little joke, but I don’t mind telling you. ‘The trousers are a pair old Dawson bought second- hand for Hickson’s funeral, the coat belongs to Coxwell, and the waistcoat is nothing in the world but a cummerbund. Coxey wanted me to wear his waistcoat, but it was so tight I wasn’t having any—I hardly dare move in his beastly coat, as it is. ‘Coxey, old boy,’ I said, ‘[ don’t get a Christmas dinner every yeai, and I’m jolly well not going to play any tricks with this one.’ But, sakes alive, man, you’ve got to dress, too! Why, those other chaps have got themselves up the very deuce of a swell!” There was a sound of voices approaching. The Man wavered a moment, then fled precipi- tously as a couple of gleaming white shirt-fronts emerged from the gloom. ‘ Mr. Kingston was immaculate, but the Major’s front was orna- mented with a splash of ink, to which the relentless Bobbie immediately drew attention. “Tt’s not my shirt,” said the Major, redden- ing. “I found it among Ripley's things, but the beggar forgot to leave his links or stud, and some other scoundrel’s collared mine. Anyhow, you needn’t crow, young Bobbie—lI’ll bet a sovereign that coat was never made for you !” “Tut, tut!” murmured the Irresponsible One. “ve outgrown it, that’s all—and the trousers have outgrow me,” he could not resist adding, as he displayed their absurd roominess. Meanwhile, in a veritable fever of dread, I heard ominous sounds of doors and drawers and boxes opening, shutting, banging; and while I tried to receive my guests naturally, I cudgelled my brains in frantic efforts to think where in the world I had put The Man’s dress- clothes. At last, unable to bear it any longer, l excused myself on the plea of taking a final glance at the dinner. “Jack won’t be a minute,” I said ; “he was kept late by the boys this evening.” ‘Then, with manifold misgivings, I slipped through to my bedroom. When I opened the door I fairly gasped. The room looked as if burglars had been through it. THe contents of every drawer and every box were strewn broad- cast, while, perspiring and swearing in their midst, attired only in shirt and socks, stood the host whose guests awaited him in the drawing- room. “Some infernal nigger has stolen my dress- clothes,” he spluttered. “What on earth am I to do?” “Nonsense,” I replied. ‘‘Have you looked in that big trunk in the store? They’re much more likely to be there than among my blouses.” Like a flash he was gone, and when he came back he was already struggling into the trousers, with the coat and waistcoat hanging round his neck, “T say, old chap!” called Bobbie’s voice, “can’t you find em? Shall I come and help? Never mind the links; the Major hasn’t got any.” I slipped away to the kitchen, to find that the imported cook-boy had hit one of my piccaninnies over the head with a saucepan and made him howl, while one of the two who were to wait at table had caught against a nail and torn a huge slit in his “limbo” at the back, which common decency demanded must be fixed up with safety-pins at any cost. Finally, beginning to perspire visibly, I took my seat at the head of the table, and was nearly knocked backwards by the odour of camphor that came across to me from The Man’s much-creased garments. I almost wished I had invited them to dine in pyjamas, as I knew they ofien did at home! The soup passed off all right, except that the toast was carefully kept back, and handed round when we had all finished. The turkey I eyed anxiously, but it looked very harmless, though not beautified by an untidy heap of sausages at one end of the dish and stuffing at the other. However, I eased my mind about it, only to be horror-struck the next momentjat the spectacle

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OUR CHRISTMAS of one piccaninny handing potatoes round in the glass dish I had given him for the pudding, and the other the beans and bread-sauce mixed, in the dish I had given them for the mince pies! Of course it tasted all right, but what of my carefully-planned “ best,” and earnest, imploring instructions ? After the turkey the cook-boy treated us to an interval. In an inward fever of anxiety I pre- pared to adjourn to the kitchen. The Man, however, insisted upon my waiting patiently. Why, oh, why ! did I listen to him? It seems that when in West Africa the Major had a Christmas dinner-party and a Christmas pudding from home, which, to keep up a good old custom, he had brought to table blazing merrily. The sight had apparently sunk deep into his cook-boy’s memory as one of the DINNER- PARTY. 301 cold out, as it’s only about one hundred and two degrees in the shade.” But I gasped feebly, on the verge of a collapse. ‘How could te light it?” I asked, looking blankly across at The Man. ‘“ He had no spirits.” Then simultaneously we all sniffed, and glanced anxiously around. The Man got up. “Something must have gone wrong with the kitchen lamp,” he said; “I smell oil burning distinctly. Excuse me a minute,” and he went towards the door. But he was arrested--we all were—by a shout from Bobbie. There was the Irre- sponsible One, nearly blue in the face with amusement, spluttering and choking over a spoonful of pudding he had _ surreptitiously stolen from the dish. “A PICCASINAY, IN FREAK AND TRE MIIISG, CXRTIED FORWARD A BLAZING PUDDING.” crowning achievements of the white man, and, therefore, something to be copied the moment occasion arose. With a proud smile all over his face, he stood inside the doorway and watched while a piccaninny, in fear and trembling, carried forward a blazing pudding. “Bravo, Sixpence!” said the Major. “He remembers the pudding we had at Accra last ear.” “Good old Christmas!” cried Bobbie. “ Six- pence thought we’d need something to keep the “It’s the pudding!” he gasped. “O Lord! iv’s the pudding! ‘That fat-headed idiot has been and gone and soaked it in paraffin of!” “Impossible!” I moaned. ‘“ My precious pudding which has come all the way +from home !” ‘The Commissioner fairly bubbled over, but he tried to be consoling. “Never mind,” he said, “we’ve seen a real Christmas pudding blazing, and that’s more than a lot of chaps round here havé done.”

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302 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. The Man wanted to make the cook-boy eat it, but when he turned to look for the grinning apparition in the doorway, Sixpence was found to have discreetly vanished. He had returned to the kitchen, and straightway added to his sins by sending in the coffee without any further delay, in spite of my positive instructions to wait until dinner was finished. From that moment things went hopelessly awry. One piccaninny put the dessert on the table, we don’t live in such style every day, eh?” Then he went off into fits of laughter at his own silly joke. By this time tears were streaming down the Major’s face, while Bobbie, still mopping vigorously, was making hideous grimaces at the terrified piccaninnies: With my one object in life to beat a speedy retreat to the veranda, I suggested that we should drink a Christmas toast. ‘THE HOUSE WHEKE THE DINNER TOOK PLACE, From a Photograph. while the other was handing round the cheese without a knife or anything to take it with. As the result of spasmodic signs from me the dessert piccaninny suddenly put his dishes down any- how, pushed the other boy away, cheese and all, and commenced sweeping away everyone's bread before they had half finished with it. Finally the coffee, cheese, butter, and dessert got hopelessly mixed up, and in their increasing flurry one piccaninny seized Mr. Kingston’s plate, leaving him with a slice of bread in one hand and a piece of cheese poised on a knife in the other, while the second further distinguished himself by spilling a finger-bow] of water down Bobbie’s neck. Bobbie howled, and nearly frightened the eight-year-old out of his wits by making a grab at him. He protested that between fire and water he was having a glorious Christmas. The Major began to get hysterical, and Mr. Kingston could contain himself no longer when a picca- ninny solemnly presented him with a finger-bowl with a spoon in it. I joined in the general uproar, but I thought it was very mean of The Man to remark: ‘“ Shows The Man rose instantly. “Ladies and gentlemen, I propose we drink to absent friends and relatives.” “Absent friends and_ relatives,” echoed Bobbie. “Through fire and water 1 have come to drink to your very good health. Ladies and gentlemen—and the Major,” he added, wickedly, “may I also propose our worthy friend’s in- genious cook-boy ?” “The Queen—God bless her!” spluttered the Major, in a way that nearly overcame Bobbie for good and all, while an ominous sound of stitches giving boded ill for poor Mr. Coxwell’s coat. : : “To our charming and hospitable hostess,” said the Commissioner, in his delightful way, “and I’m sure I may add the warmest thanks of three lonely bachelors to whom she has given a real Christmas treat.” When the noise subsided—Bobbie was getting very hilarious now—I proposed my toast :— ~ “To all the women in the Colonies of the British Empire,” I said, “who are roughing it for the sake of husbands, fathers, brothers, and their country.”

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BA Christos tet Slory. a HENRYK ROMANS ESamy The author is a Polish “pan,” or noble landed proprietor, somewhat akin in position to an English lord of the manor. In this narrative he tells a queer etory of a mysterious disappear- ance and the uncanny events which followed. —@) T was the week before Christmas that the first episode of my narrative | took place. On my estate of Yaroslawek, near Lamosc, Poland, where my father and grandfather farmed before me, we had had nothing more out of the common than blights and blizzards to thrill us for many a long year, when suddenly ghosts began to trouble us. But I am anticipating, and it is very necessary that I should tell this story in as circumstantial a manner as possible. As I have already said, it was the week before Christmas. Then one night a tremendous snow- storm came down on us, and simultaneously old Yakob, our overseer, disappeared. He was an old family servant, and we regretted his loss greatly, but there seemed nothing for us to do but to bow to the inevitable. Search parties were, of course, organized to look for the missing man, but they found nothing, and we all came to the conclusion that the old feiiw, with his horse and the two tame wolves who followed him everywhere, had succumbed to the blizzard and lay buried under some vast drift, where they would not be discovered until the spring. So the episode was closed. The usual routine of life on a large estate does not give one much time for sorrow, though I soon realized what an important cog the faithful Yakob had been in our machinery. On Christmas Eve, when, according to our Polish custom, all the family, the guests, and the dependents were gathered together to sing the “ Kolendy” (the equivalent of the English carols), we were startled in the middle of our music by the sound of baying wolves. We all stopped dead, and in the silence that ensued we heard a noise like that made by the claws of a dog walking on wood. My boarhound got- up and) began growling,

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304 THE’ WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. but the growl died away into a whimper, and he was soon whining at my feet, shivering all over. “ Were-wolves,” said one of the men-servants, crossing himself, with a shudder. I did not like having everybody scared, so I said, sharply :— “Nonsense! The cold has brought the wolves down from the forests and they’re howling in the park or round the stables. Dmitri and you, Yasek, take your guns and go and look.” But though I spoke so confidently I did not think the mysterious sounds came from outside; they I saw his fright was genuine, and ordered him to tell me what he had seen. From his disjointed narrative I gathered that he had seen a skeleton in a long grey coat and sheep-skin cap, accompanied by.two huge animals with blazing eyes, disappear from the terrace right through the wall of the house. Of course, 1 pooh-poohed the whole yarn, though I went to see the place in the wall where the apparition was supposed to have dived through the masonry. I could not locate the exact spot where the spectral group had gone into thin air, but I satis- fied myself that there was sounded quite near us. Five days later, as I was riding in after dusk from an outlying hamlet where I had been to inspect the damage done by some wolves, I saw three forms flit from the house towards the open fields. They were hardly distinguishable — in the half - light, but they looked to me like a man running, with a couple of dogs at his heels. That set me_ thinking. The supposed wolves which had broken into the pens at the hamlet I had just no inlet there. Our house, I should ex- plain, is an irregular-shaped building, with an extra- ordinary ground - plan, for each succeeding generation of owners has added or changed something. Each part is in a different style, or rather in no style at all. On the side where the vision had appeared to Yasek there still stood the stone walls of the original building, a fortified manor that had been burnt and sacked by the Swedes when they besieged Lamosc. left might well have been the two dogs of this- noc- turnal wanderer. It had looked to me as if the damage had been assisted by human hands, and this might explain the mystery. I started my mount after them, chasing them right up to the edge of the wood, where my pony stopped short, with legs widespread, and refused to go on. I tried to make her move forward with the spur, but all to no purpose, so I turned her head and rode back to the house, having made up my mind that my eyes had played me a trick and caused a wolf with its shadow in front of it to look like a man. I was at dinner that night when I received more news, by Yasek, the new overseer, of my three shadows. He came running in as pale as a sheet, trying in vain to speak. I poured him out a glass of wine and made him drink it off. “What’s up?” I queried. “The house is haunted, your honour!” he cried, in trembling tones. “Haunted ? Since when?” I asked, laughing. “To not laugh, lord, for it is more terrible than vampires.” THE AUTHOR, From a Photo. by J. Lowy. Here’ the remains of the old moat still showed like a deep gash in the ground. I re-examined the place by daylight, and finally convinced myself, greatly to the comfort of my own mind, that Yasek was a superstitious fool. The afternoon, however, brought more food for reflection, for Yasek was found in a lane that led down to the village in a dead faint. When brought to he swore that he had seen the three weird beings again. “They are spirits — were - wolves,” he affirmed. Come, Yasek, you don’t really believe that,” I said. “A sensible fellow like you talking about were-wolves ?” “Seeing is believing, your honour,” he retorted. “‘ Besides, here is proof that they are ghosts. They leave no footprints in the snow.” “ Because in each case snow has been falling at the time and has hidden the tracks.” It was no use arguing with him, however ; he persisted in the ghost theory in spite of all I said, and went into minute details of the apparition to anybody who would listen. I myself was puzzled not aj little over this

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THE GREY WOLVES OF YAROSLAWEK. 305 knotty riddle, and could not help thinking that something uncanny was going on. For the next ten days new reports of our “ ghosts” came in almost hourly. This peasant had seen the trio in one place, another in that. Yet others recognised the “ghosts” as Yakob and his wolves, who could not rest until their master was given Christian burial; in fact, a hundred and one cock-and-bull yarns got affoat. The people were afraid of going out after nightfall unless there were several of them together, and altogether the countryside was turned topsy- turvy by the first ghosts it had ever boasted. I myself, save the shadows I had followed, never saw anything, though several times I heard the mysterious scraping-like sounds—the nails of a four-footed beast on wood—when the house was quiet. I observed that these noises always came from certain walls, and were always heard in the same three rooms ; at least, I never heard them anywhere else, though the servants maintained that they were frequent all over the house. Puzzling over this slight clue, I eventually found out that the three rooms in question were all up against the old wall which was bordered by the moat. There were no windows on‘ the ground floor opening out that way, so that I did not see how this discovery could in any way advance my atnateur detective work. Puzzling over the plan of that part of the building, how- ever, I one day realized that the rooms above were much larger than those below. This I easily verified, and, having done so, came to a conclusion. There were cither secret rooms in the space that remained unaccounted for, or else, which was wildly improbable, a piece had been walled in and forgotten during the con- tinual additions to the building. The day that I had come to these conclusions my brother-in-law, Pan Rozwadowski, looking out of his window, which is situated in the ivy covered left wing, saw the back of a human figure, accompanied by two large animals, going round the corner of the buildings in the moonlight. He told me of this the next morning at our early six o’clock breakfast. “ Are you sure?” I asked. “Certain,” he replied, emphatically. ‘“ My eyesight is pretty good, and, what is more, the ghost looked decidedly solid. If you ask me, it is somebody playing at spirits for some mys- terious reason.” I was glad to hear Rozwadowski talk like that, and told him the result of my investiga- tions. I then proposed that we should try to get to the bottom of the mystery that very day. “Look here,” said my brother-in-law, “it Vol. xx.—39, didn’t snow last night. Why not go to the place where I saw them, and search for tracks?” “Right you are!” I cried, and we at once set about making our preparations for the hunt. We put on warm sdubas and went out, Rozwadowski leading the way to the place where he had seen the figures. There, sure enough, we saw the tracks—those of a man and two wolves. We could seé distinctly where the man had remained standing and the beasts had sat on their haunches, one on either side of him. We looked at each other ; the same idea had come to both of us. “Supposing that Yakob——” began Rozwa- dowski. “We're not going to suppose anything,” I interrupted ; “ we're going to find out. You go back to the house and get a couple of revolvers . and call a few of the men, while I follow these tracks.” Then I began to follow the spoor. It led round the corner of the house and then struck off towards the high road. I had got that far when the others rejoined me and together we continued the hunt. It had frozen hard that night, and we followed the trail more or less easily except where, here and there, the wind had drifted the snow and obliterated all signs. We had a lony tramp along the road, through the wood where I had first seen the trio, and out into the fields the other side. Gradually, by a tortuous and winding way, the prints led us back towards the manor. It was midday when we eventually got to within a few yards of the old wall where Yasek had witnessed the inexplicable disappearance of our “ ghasts.” Here, to our annoyance, we found that the wind had covered the imprints more deeply than anywhere else. The old moat itself was half filled with snow, the surface of which was even and unbroken— so smooth, in fact, that it occurred to me that human agency had assisted the winds. Now, indeed, I was in a predicament, for if, as I believed, thcre were secret vaults or chambers beyond that moat, with an inlet through the wall, how were we going to find them behind that seemingly untrodden bank of snow? Much perplexed, Rozwadowski and I jumped down into the moat. We promptly broke through the frozen crust, but, remaining waist- deep in the drift, proceeded to sound the wall inch by inch. : It seemed all to no purpose, however, for everywhere the masonry gave back the same solid sound. “It was more this way, your honour, that they disappeared,” said Yasek; who was very

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306 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. keen on laying the “ghosts,” and he jumped down as well. That leap helped us greatly, for, instead of - going through as we had done, the overseer landed on something solid that kept him up. In a trice we had the shovels at work, and presently uncovered a wide plank, one end of which was securely wedged in the bank and the other jammed between two big masses of stone, at the jointing of which the mortar had been either dug out or had crumbled away with age. We were now right up against the semicircular projection caused by the remains of what had “That is common sense, anyhow,” answered I. “There must be some secret way of getting in, though.” For a good hour we explored every inch of that blind wall without result. We were feeling very cold and rather discouraged when, by some happy inspiration, Rozwadowski wrenched the plank out of its position, and there, just above it, covered with snow, I caught sight of some- thing. “An iron ring!” I exclaimed, and, laying hands on it, pulled. Almost before I realized it one of the stones, measuring about four feet ‘THE PORTION OF THE WALL OF THE AUTHOR'S HOUSE WHERE THE SECRET CHAMBER WAS DISCOVERED. once been a tower, and which now supports a big bow-window on the first floor. Rozwadowski, greatly excited, struck the granite with the handle of a pick in several places. “ Floored again !” he growled, disappointedly. “We'd better clear all the snow away from here.” “Would it not be useless, your honour, to search for an entrance below the plank? If it is used as a drawbridge obviously the door will be above it,” suggested Yasek. by three, seemed to vanish, leaving a gaping black hole ! When our excitement at this discovery had somewhat subsided we got lanterns and went in on all fours, but only for a little distance, for presently we were able to stand upright, finding ourselves in a dark, ice-cold vault. Here Rozwadowski and I waited while Yasek and four men scrambled through to join us. Suddenly, as we were about to advance

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THE GREY WOLVES OF YAROSLAWEK. | 307 > “(HE AND THE WOLVES CAME AT US WITH A FEROCIOUS RUSH.” again, a threatening growl came from the right and we heard the cocking of a firearm. “Who goes there?” demanded a voice. I started violently, for I recognised it as that of Yakob, the missing overseer. “ Friends,” I cried. “You lie! You are the Russian hounds who have held the Rozanski Manor since the great blizzard. I spit on you, pig’s blood! You wish to dance with a Pole? Come, then! Listen ; the wolves are playing the music.” “ As he spoke an ominous baying echoed against the walls. - Inman instant I realized what had happened— poor old Yakob had gone mad and imagined himself back in the days ‘of the unhappy insurrection of ’64. We had no time to think of that then, how- ever, for he and the wolves came at us with a ferocious rush. Several shots rang out; I fired two into one wolf which had fixed his teeth in my shuba; Rozwadowski killed the other ‘beast, and one of our men lay wounded by Yakob’s gun-shot. We were on the madman in a moment, but he fought with incredible ferocity, and it gave four of us all we could do to truss him up. He bit and struggled savagely, and all of us got souvenirs in the way of bruises and bites before he was overpowered ; but finally we got him secured and carried him out unconscious. The poor old fellow only recovered sufficiently to call me by my father’s name and to rejoice that the Russians were gone. He died four days later, and we buried him with the wolves who had been his faithful companions for so long. In the vaults we found a quantity of provisions and grey homespun clothes, together with a certain amount of ammunition. How the overseer . obtained his stock, however, we never discovered, nor did we learn whether he had found his secret hiding-place by accident or had known of it for years and kept his knowledge to himself. And so was ended the “haunting” of Yaroslawek, in the Lublin government, and, now: that the secret hiding-place is secret no longer, I do not think we need fear the advent of any more “ghosts.” The secret rooms, we found, were quite extensive, and had wooden galleries running round their tops from which, we after- wards discovered, two sliding panels led into the rooms above. ‘These galleries explained the mysterious clawing sounds which we had heard, for, in places, the shell of the wall that separated the rooms from the secret compartments was very thin, so that any scratching or scuffling made by the wolves in running round would be plainly audible.

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CHINESE WATCH-TOWERS. HIS is a photograph of one of the curious sham watch - towers dotted about the plain among the Western Hills neat Peking. They are in commanding positions, and are to all appearance fortified towers with hattlements, and cannon ready at each window. But the tower has no entrance, and no inside except earth, while the cannon are black circles painted on wooden boards smeared with paint. The wood and stones are crumbling away with the sun, snow, rain, and frost.—Mr. S. Beggin, Alsager, Cheshire, in ‘‘ THR STRAND MAGAZINE.” “ONE OF THE OLD MASTERS.” N old negro was exhibiting, with a singular pride, A the scars of the wounds inflicted by the lash in the days when he was a slave. “What a picture !”’ said a sympathetic onlooker. “Yaas,” he replied ; ‘‘dat de work of one o’ de ole masters.”—‘C. B. FRY'S MAGAZINE.” . ORIGINAL ADVERTISING. VEN into the commonplace newspaper or window advertisement the American infuses a vigour and originality which is rarely seen on the western side of the Atlantic. Here are a few samples from the window of a New York hosier, each a gem — in its way: ‘* These shirts ought te be next your heart.” ‘The silkworms would die of grief if they knew that we were giving their produce away for next to nothing.” ‘Our kids are always good} one dollar and a half for twins.” ‘¢ Our ties speak for themselves ; you can hear them two blocks away.”—‘* THE GRAND MAGAZINE.” THE WOMEN OF SWEDEN. HE daughters of Sweden have no rivals in other kingdoms for beauty of figure. Their limbs are strong, but never angular, “and in their walk there is a rhythmic grace that is as attractive as the quiet heroism in their deep blue eyes. Their hair, blond and abundant, makes a fitting crown to their shapely heads. For a long time there has been a standard in Sweden for womanly form, and it this country that one can see modern dress carried with elegance, and never caricatured by Jerky ‘movements and shapeless figures — ‘* WOMAN’S LIFE.” HOW LUCKY! MERICAN ladies, when in England, are the occasion of many jokes, good, bad, and indifferent. Here is a recent one, which has for its scene the magnificence of Windsor Castle. Fair American: ‘‘ Butler, any chance to get a glimpse of the Queen?” Gentleman addressed : the Prince of Wales.” F.A.: “How lucky! Is “TIT-BITS.” “Tam not the butler; 1 am your mother in ?”— AN IMPERIAL SAUCEPAN. CORRESPONDENT of ‘COUNTRY LIFE,” in sending the following photograph, says: ‘* When travelling in France last month, and, as is my wont, on the look-out for curios, I chanced on an old copper saucepan bearing the inscription of which I enclose a rubbing. The saucepan is 3tin. deep and 5}in. across. It would be interesting to hear if any of your readers have similar relics of Napoleon's kitchen.”

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A Rolling Road—How Swiss Guides “Show Off’—The Hangchow Bare, etc., etc. ] HERE has recently been completed at Cleveland, Ohio, a curious piece of engineering. This takes the form of an electric rolling road- way, and has been constructed for the express purpose of conveying horses and wagons up a steep hill which would otherwise ROLLING R¢ A CURIOUS ELECTRICAL _ be practically unclimbable for vehicles, the grade being approximately one in six. Our photo- graph shows traffic in the act of ascending. The road travels four hundred and twenty feet forward, rising sixty-five feet in the process, and the time taken in ascending varies according to the amount of traffic, the average being four minutes. WHICH TAKES VEHICLES UP A STEEP (ILL AT (CLEYHLAND, « From a Photograph.

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310 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. frequently take keen interest in these impromptu tests, encouraging the men with offers of presents. At an hotel in the Bernese Oberland recently a challenge of this kind was made, and a guide, to show his skill, walked round a sheer wall of rock, supporting himself only by his fingers and the iron-shod toes of his boots. Sometimes, unfortunately, the foolhardiness of a guide in connection with these challenges—thrown out and accepted in hot blood—costs him his life. TAPYING RUBBER TREES IN CKYLON. From a Photo, by Underwood & Underwood. The method of tapping rubber trees usually employed in Ceylon is that known as the “spiral,” and is very interesting. Incisions are made at regular intervals in the trunk, as depicted in the above photograph, and little cups placed at intervals to catch the precious latex, or milk, as it flows from the cuts. The natives have to be very carefully taught, for if the tapping knives penetrate too far the tree may be killed. Very often, when tourists are resting at some Alpine mountain hotel during a laborious ascent, their guides, whom chance has brought together from all parts, will tell stories of their adventures and prowess. Sooner or later rivalry arises, and one man _ will challenge another to climb a tree, is A FOOLHARDY FEAT—A SWIsS GUIDE WALKING ROUND A SHEER WALL OF ROCK a wall, Ona difficult piece of SUPPORTING HIMSELF ONLY BY HIS FINGERS AND THR TOES OF HIS BOOTS. tock. The climbers themselves From a Photograph, —

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ODDS AND ENDS. ‘A WONDERFUL CHINESE PHENOMENON, THE HANGCHOW BORE—THE HEIGHT OF THE MOVING WALL OF WATER IS SOMETHING From a) The striking photograph above reproduced depicts the remarkable Chinese phenomenon known as the Hangchow bore. In the foreground will be seen the inrushing tide—a mass of milk- white foam and swirling eddies— travelling up the river at a terrific pace. The height of the “face” of this moving wall of water is some- thing like fifteen feet, and woe be- tide the small boat that meets it! The bore is seen at its best in the months of February and September, ‘when, according to the phases of the moon, it attains its greatest height. Our next photo- graph shows the trunk of an im- mense baobab or cream of tartar tree, measuring no less than A BAOBAB TREE NEAR THE LIMPOPO—IT IS REMARKABLE FROM THE FACT THAT EVEN IN THE DRIKST SEASON A HOLLOW IN ITS TRUNK YIKLDS A GOOD From a) LIKE FIFTEEN FEET! SUPPLY OF FRESH WATER. twenty-seven feet in circumference. A number of these trees grow near the Limpopo (Photograph. . (Photograph. A great River, which forms the boun- dary between the Transvaal and Rhodesia. This particular tree, however, is re- markable owing to the fact that a considerable quantity of fresh water is always- to be found in a hollow at the base of the branches, even in the driest season —a valuable find, “indeed, in this arid country. Sufficient to water a team of six mules -has been found at times. In the photo- graph a native is seen lowering a full bucket. No doubt many a tra- veller has had reason to bless this tree and its mysterious spring of life-giving fluid.

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giz The next photo- graph tells the story of a juvenile tragedy. A heavily-laden hay- cart from the country was moving slowly along the streets of Zurich, Switzerland, when a naughty little boy, as naughty little boys will the world over, ran after the cart and climbed up on the hay without the driver noticing him. Hardly had he settled himself comfortably for a stolen ride, how- ever, than the overburdened cart gave a lurch and turned over on its side, burying the unfortunate young THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. urchin beneath a veritable avalanche of sweet - smell- ing hay. His muffled cries for help soon brought the driver to his rescue. The man fished him out, _ looking very crest- fallen and de- cidedly short of breath, and, then proceeded to be- labour him lustily, venting upon the howling lad his ill- temper at the acci- dent. When he had finished, a very sore and meek- looking small boy crept sadly away, vowing to leave hay-carts alone in future. (A SNAP-SHOT WITH AN AMUSING HISTORY. From ‘a Photograph. ee a 7 o0 4n UNSUCCESSFUL Be { a Rounp-up * aun £ Pais p: fen. % z The BotLeR Door, AA 3 ye ‘ 2 ke a { fi 3 i ° 1, 60.000-MiLe WALK TaRoucn THe HeagT os x [ae oF CHINA i Nicwr wit A ROBBERY IN Horse-Thier o7 RUE SCRIB “ SHANGHAIED” A Foolardy Feat’ ~; MAN veRSUS SEA Grey WoLVES oF, * SYAROSLAWEK ~s St Ralling Road : wet ne SPORT IN ° vars CENTRAL AFRICA ‘ our Xmas DINNER-PARTY Mun Samig REVENGE . 3 Ar tne Enp or A Rope ot t— THE MAP-CONTENTS OF “THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE,” WHICH SHOWS AT A GLANCE THE LOCALITY OF RACH ARTICLE AND NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURE IN THIS NUMBER.

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gle Digitized by Goo

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“THE BULL WAS BOUNDING ABOUT AND PLUNGING IN ALL DIRECTIONS.” (SEE PAGE 316.)

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THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XX. FEBRUARY. 1908, No. 118 The Wild Bulls of Gorruckpore. By Ligut.-CotoneL, H. G. Ryvanp, INDIAN ARMY. How three sport-loving young subalterns sought to while away their abundant leisure in exciting © fashion by the unique method of “fishing” for wild bulls. They duly caught their quarry, but ere it was landed some decidedly thrilling moments ensued, as the story shows. Bal ANY years ago I was stationed with iM H my regiment on the borders of the vi Nepal Terai, at Gorruckpore, in the Vv a! Nerth- W. est Provinces of India. ~ Soldiering in those days was not the red-hot curriculum of toil that modern military scientists have made it now, and our time throughout the year was pretty well our own. In the cold weather two commanding officer’s parades a week just served to keep our senses keen on our more serious occupation—that of shooting. Several species of deer were plentiful. In fhe dense jungles of the Terai, tigers, panthers, and. buffaloes could be found, and duck, snipe, teal, and the larger grebe simply swarmed. The small European community in the station itself were eminently sociable, while the planters round about us vied with each other in splendid hospitality. So long, then, as the weather was tolerable, and the temperature stood at anything under ninety degrees in the shade, there was no lack of amusement or excitement in this sportsman’s paradise. But when the sun rose up to scorch us, when the hot winds blew, and the swish of the water on the Aus-Xus at our doors in the long summer days was the only sound to be heard, things were very gloomy indeed, and all our ingenuity .was taxed to provide distraction for our ennui. Perhaps one of our most suc- cessful—and startling—efforts in that direction was the novel sport 1 am about to describe. - In the thick woods which fringed a swamp of some extent not far from our mess-house there lived a considerable number of Brahmini bulls, nomad beasts, turned loose at an early age from some Hindu temple to roam about at will and do as much damage as they pleased, for they had been dedicated to the gods. Some of these animals were of immense size, and all were practically wild and very savage. Vol, xx.—40, During the hot weather we observed that certain of these bulls invariably came out of their forest retreat morning and evening and took up a position under a clump of trees in the grounds of the mess-house. Promptly we conceived the idea of endeavouring to capture them. How to do it, however, was the difficulty, until at last some brilliant youth suggested that we should “ fish for them.” “ Nothing easier,” said he. ‘You get some ropes, climb into a tree, wait till the bulls come standing about underneath, and thep nvose them.” This sounded plausible, and we deter- mined to try it. Accordingly, at dayoreak next morning three of us, each equipped with two ropes, climbed separate trees and awaited our quarry. We fastened one end of each rope tc the stoutest branch available, contrived an easy- running noose at the other end, and waited. Soon, from different parts of the adjacent forest, there emerged one by one five splendid bulls. With careless stateliness they converged on the clump of mango trees in the dense foliage of which we sat hidden, and as they neared each other they tossed their heads, pawed the ground, grunted, and in other ways showed temper. They had doubtless, however, often measured their respective powers, and each knew the capabilities of the others for mischief, so did not actually commit themselves to open hostilities. Each seemed to take his own line and to avoid a _ collision. On they came, and as they approached us I must confess to a wild throbbing at my heart in anticipation of a new experience. A—-- and C—— had taken up positions in trees not more than twenty yards apart, while I had selected a tree a little farther away, which appeared to be the special favourite of the monarch of the herd, a huge black bull, with an immense head, heavy dewlap, and short, thick, sharp - pointed, ,,cruel)looking’ horns. It soon

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316 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. became evident, however, that he was not going to favour me that morning, for, espying in the far distance a herd of grazing cattle, he gave a few hoarse grunts and started off at a flounder- ing, three-cornered canter to “join the ladies.” I, therefore, had to content myself with watching the operations of my brother officers, which promised to be exciting. Close under A——’s perch a roan bull, perhaps sixteen hands high, stood pensively flapping his ears backwards and forwards, wish- ing, maybe, for some break in the monotony of his existence, while against C——'s tree a grey bull, a much smaller animal, was incontinently rubbing himself. A. was not long in getting to work. He had to crawl out on the branch to which his ropes were attached before he could get exactly over his animal ; then I saw him cautiously lower his noose towards the bull and apparently strike him on the ear, for the beast shook his head violently, and A—— pulled up his rope in a hurry. At the next attempt, how- ever, he succeeded ad- mirably. He dropped his noose adroitly over both horns and then sharply jerked the rope; it gripped firmly, and the fish was hooked ! For one brief mo- ment the bull did not seem to realize what had his first mad rush by the sudden tightening of the rope, was bounding about and plunging in all directions at once, bellowing loudly, while his movements conveyed a galvanic shock to poor A—--, and danced him up and down like a toy monkey. How he succeeded in retaining his hold of the rope when jerked off the tree by the bull, and how he at last managed to get back to his perch, were mysteries which C—— and I took no trouble to solve ; we were simply crying with laughter, and it took us all we knew to stay where we were ourselves. While all this was going on the three re- maining bulls were making short rushes here and there—stamp- ing, snorting, and watching with the utmost amazement the extraordinary antics of their captive brother, whose frantic struggles had by this time nearly exhausted him. Nearly, but not quite ; for the little grey bull, who had been completing his toilet under C——’s tree, overcome by curiosity, marched solemnly’ up towards our prisoner to inves- tigate, whereupon the captured one, regard- ing him as the fons e¢ origo of his troubles, lowered his head and charged him furiously ! Before the little one knew what was coming he was struck like a thunderbolt. Down he went with an awful happened. Heshook his head, lowered it, shook it again, then lifted it high, and in doing so brought the slack of the rope against his eyes. What happened-next it was impossible to say. I saw the bull move, bound forward like a flash, and roll in a con- fused heap on the ground. Next instant I heard a yell from A , and observed him hanging to the rope two feet below the branch, making frantic efforts to regain his position on it. Then followed a thrilling spectacle for C—— and myself. The bull, hurled to the ground in From a} LIEUT.-COLONEL H. G. RYLAND, RELATES HOW HE, WHEN A SUBALTERN AND ACCOMPANIED BY THREE BROTHER OFFICERS, WENT ‘FISHING FOR WILD BULLS.” thud, and on the top of him fell the roan captive. For some seconds it was impossible to tell which was which. The rope got entangled in them both, and out of the heavy cloud of dust which arose about them, legs, tails, and horns showed up promiscuously, while their roars were quite appalling. When they did extricate them- selves, the little bull, with all the breath knocked out of his body, walked sheepishly away, while our prisoner stood, with legs wide apart, heaving flanks, quivering tail, and protruding tongue, INDIAN ARMY, WHO HERE (Photograph.

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THE WILD BULLS OF GORRUCKPORE. * 317 the picture of distress) A—— hauled on the rope, and the bull came unresistingly close under the tree, when some natives who had been watching from a distance came boldly up, firmly secured him, and led him off. Mr. H , a planter in the district, took over our prize, and worked him, with another one, in a plough. : That roan bull and A—— between them afforded us excellent sport ; but we had centred our desires on the capture of the black monster who had so unceremoniously deserted us, and day after day we climbed our trees and waited for him. We even dragged the top of a camp- table up into the friendly shelter of a giant mango, and there consumed many whiskies and sodas and much tobacco; but all to no purpose. Neither the black nor any of his companions came to reward our patience. More than a week had passed. A—— and C——, tired of inaction, preferred long chairs and a punkah to sitting astride on a tree-top and being eaten by red ants; and I, keen as I was, had well-nigh decided to give up the quest as hopeless, when one morning, as I cantered up to the mess-house after an early parade, I was accosted by a group of dishevelled, ragged- looking natives, who prostrated themselves on the stone flags and began whining at me all together. For a time I could make nothing of their chatter, and I was about to leave them and go to breakfast when a sepoy orderly, wnom I had directed to turn out the intruders, told me that the men were cattle graziers who had come to complain about the depredations of a “wild bull.” My interest was roused at once, and with the aid of the sepoy I quickly gathered that the bull referred to was none other than our sable friend. He had for some time past, it appeared, insisted on attaching himself to their herds when taken to pasture, and when the natives attempted to drive him off he chased them, so that they were in fear of their lives. He was a mighty cur, too, this bull, for should the cows, resenting his attentions, prod him as a gentle hint to keep his distance, he would charge them, and had already seriously injured one or two of the most valuable animals. Only that morning he had knocked over and nearly killed a cowboy, and the whole village had to turn out with sticks and stones to drive him away. They were “ poor men,” they said, and for fear of the bull they dare not trust their herds to their children to graze, as was customary, and so were compelled to follow their cattle in force themselves, being unable, in consequence, to attend to more important work. “Save us, cherisher of the poor,” they said ; “catch this faithless one ; 4777 Aim even, if you like!” ‘This last was a tall order from a Hindu herdsman, and showed to what degree of exasper- ation they had been brought, for by their religion this bull was sacred. They told me the bull was even now with their cattle in some hollow ground three miles distant, and that there was an excellent grove of trees close by, where their animals rested during the noonday heat. I directed them to leave one of their number as a guide, and promised to ride out to the place later on. At breakfast I found A—— and C—-, and while I was telling my tale Captain B—— came in. It was, fortunately, a cloudy day, shortly before the com- mencement of the rains, and a cool breeze was blowing, so that nothing prevented us from getting our ponies and setting off immediately after breakfast, which we accordingly did, our syces laden with ropes and our guide preceding us with a basket of ample proportions contain- ing our luncheon. As we rode away Captain B—— shouted after us that he was “coming out later to see the fun.” “Twill bring a shot- gun,” he added, “for I shouldn’t wonder if one of you youngsters came to grief somehow !” It did not take us long to reach our destina- tion, and, standing on the summit of a hillock, we looked down into the hollow, where about a hundred cattle were grazing. There, too, was “that devil of a bull,” as the natives called him, up to his girth in some long reeds at the edge of the pond, and looking very big and black. Between him and the grazing cattle was a cordon of more than a score of natives, armed with thick, long staves, who every now and then raised ear-splitting yells and clashed their sticks together ; very much exaggerating, as it seemed to us, the dangers of their position, for the bull seemed supremcly indifferent to his surround- ings. We had dismounted from our ponies, and as our guide had in the meantime been joined by two or three other men we explained our plan of action to them. “The bull seems quiet enough just now,” I said; “one of you pick up the tiffin basket, and you two fellows over there take hold of these ropes. The syces and ponies can go off to the village and stay there till wanted ; we will go round behind the men on guard, pass through the grazing cattle, and so reach the trees beyond.” Tt was arranged that, as soon as we had disposed ourselves in the branches of the trees most suitable for our purpose, the herdsmen were to drive the cattle into the grove, and then retire to a distance. All went well till we got into the Herd of grazing kine, but then my huge mushroom sola topee and a white umbrella

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318 . THE that C—— was carrying inspired the village cows with the utmost consternation; they formed themselves into groups and stared at us, and then, without warning, a sudden panic ensued. Away went the entire herd, scattering in all directions, deaf to the shouts of their native attendants, some heading straight for the village, others breaking back to the black bull, who advanced at a sharp trot to meet them, bellow- ing loudly, while others made rapid tracks for the grove of trees which was our own destination. We followed as fast as we could, and, selecting a huge banyan tree which covered some thirty yards of ground in its ample spread, climbed up into different parts of it, fixed our luncheon- basket in a bifurcation of the trunk, adjusted our “fishing lines” of stout ropes, lit our pipes, and discussed the situation. The few natives who had accompanied us stood about under the trees in our vicinity, while the rest of the villagers had gone off in quest of their wandering cattle, or were engaged in driving away to the village such animals as had scattered ahead of us. Only a few cows were left behind (those that had harked back in the direction of the bull), and these were now evidently undecided as to whether they should follow the majority or stay where they were. “ Ah—ooh! Ah—ooh!” from the herdsmen in the grove clinched the matter, however, and the cows commenced to walk leisurely towards us, followed by the bull, who seemed this morn- ing to be strangely subdued. Some of the cows came right under our tree, and the bull in a short time was equally accommodating. A—— was in luck’s way again, for the bull, aftera time, not only went directly under him, but actually lay down and apparently went to sleep. C—— and I were determined not to be out of the fun on this occasion, and so we unfastened our ropes from our own sides of the tree and struggled round to A——’s branch—a very substantial limb, some two feet in diameter—and prepared to nuose our défe norre together. A—— was only about ten feet above the prostrate bull, and he arranged his noose to extend from his hand right down to the animal’s head. Fastening an empty soda-water bottle to the knot to act as a weight, he lowered the long loop he had formed well over the horns of the bull and then let go the bottle, which struck the animal fairly on the forehead, and roused his anger to an extent we had never contemplated. Before A dropped his noose C. had firmly tied his own rope to it, so that the bull was really fast to two of us, only (as we subsequently had cause to regret) the ropes were of different lengths. WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. I have heard many noises and seen many stirring sights—-from the mad rush of a Ghazi to a tigress charging home to save her cubs—but I have never seen anything so stirring, so magnifi- cent, so appalling, as that ‘black bull’s first fury that summer afternoon. With lowered head, red nostrils opened wide, lashing tail, and reck- less speed, he flashed from point to point, hurl- ing himself to earth at every charge, ploughing up the ground with horns and hoofs, sending forth deep growls like distant thunder, while hie struggles made the stout branch on which we were sitting quiver like a reed. Anon, with heaving flank and bathed in foamy sweat, he stood panting, till on a sudden away he would rush again, only to be thrown to the ground with terrific force as he reached the limit of the rope. So engrossed were we with our noble prisoner that we never observed Captain B » who had walked out “to take care of us,” as he had promised, and who, attended by a tall sepoy orderly carrying a gun, was standing in a clear space at the far end of the grove some thirty or forty yards from us, watching with an air of protective superiority the _ splendid struggles of our captive. “Halloa!” shouted he; “that bull seems about done, poor beggar; he has had a rough time of it. Why don’t you make those skulking natives climb down off their trees and secure him?” “ All very well,” I replied, “but there is a lot of fight in him yet. Mind what you are about,” I added, as Captain B—= began to saunter casually toward us.“ Look out!” The bull had been staring fixedly at B and his companion during our conversation, and as they advanced he suddenly fell back, then stopped, lowered his head, and bounded forward like a lightning flash, B—, like the true sportsman he was, stood firm, without turning his ‘head. He reached back for his gun, but ‘there was no response ; the big sepoy, gun and all, was making tracks across the open plain as fast as his long legs would carry him, and B—— himself, realizing that discretion was the better part of valour, under the circumstances - turned round and fled. There was a shock which nearly sent the three of us to the ground’; ‘the ropes, weakened by the repeated rushes ‘of. the mighty bull, snapped one after the other like pack-thread, and the beast was free! Away went B——, and away tore the bull after him, with about fifteen yards of rope around his horns and trailing on the ground behind. The nearest tree was about eighty yards away. B—-+ was fat and the ,

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THE WILD BULLS OF GORRUCKPORE. 319 ground uneven. One false step, or had the bull been fresh instead of well-nigh spent, and there would have been promotion in the corps. As it was, the bull was rapidly gaining on him. To add to the extraordinary features of the and children; the utmost confusion prevailed and the uproar was deafening. The ponies broke from their attendants and galloped off towards cantonments, with the syces after them, while the bull shot round the village huts and situation, B—— kept shouting in Hindustani to his faithless orderly to bring the gun, mean- while abusing him and all his family for gener- ations! Ludicrous as the whole thing seemed afterwards, we did not feel the slightest inclina- tion to laugh at the time, and when B——, having reached the tree he was making for, slipped and fell in circling round the trunk, we felt very bad indeed. The bull was then only five yards behind, but, to our intense relief, instead of pulling up to demolish B——, he swerved aside and dashed away towards the village. Right in his path stood our ponies and syces, while from every hut ran men, women, “THE BULI. WAS RAPIDLY GAINING ON HIM.” sath ceeds Ls we lost sight of him. Curiously enough, we never saw or heard of him again—he probably cleared out of the district altogether. Climbing down from the banyan tree, we joined B—— in time to hear his sepoy orderly tremblingly explaining how it was he “lost his head and forgot that he was carrying a gun”! To this day, however, I am of opinion that the man, being a devout Hindu, bolted with the gun to prevent B—— shooting thebull. B—— declared he had lost ten pounds in weight, and that his “time for those eighty yards formed a record.” We never tried to “fish” for bulls again.

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Through the Heart of China. FROM BURMA TO SHANGHAI. By J. Gervats-COURTELLEMONT. M. and Mme. Gervais-Courtellemont have done a great deal of exploration work in the Far East, but nothing more ambitious or perilous than the journey here described—a trip from the Burmese border across the heart of unknown China to Shanghai. Their experiences were many, strange, and exciting, and the splendid photographs accompanying the narrative add greatly to its interest. peme) NE day a sign-post told us that we had reached the frontier of the Yunnan Province and entered that of Se-Tchouen. ae a | iy i INE Soy SS populous _pro- vince in the whole of the Empire, as well as the richest in natural products, but owing to the lack of means of communication the people are very poor. On entering Se-Tchouen we dismissed our drivers and their mules, for two important reasons. In the first place the paths are quite impracticable even for mules, and in an edict the Viceroy forbids any means of transport other than by man-back. Para- doxical as it may seem, yet this edict is none the less humane and wise. In this poverty-stricken country, where famines are frequent and starvation never very far away, all possible work that earns wages is reserved for human beings. All the labour is done by human hands, on the principle that “the land that feeds one ox feeds, twelve men.” This is how the Chinese tackle the unemployed question. We therefore saw our luggage transferred from the backs of our mules to those of men. They were glad of the work, although it must be acknowledged that the poor fellows earn UL very little. This is the most A CHINESE PORTER—THFSE MEN RECEIVE ABOUT HALF ‘A CROWN FOR CARRYING A HUNDRED AND FORTY- FOUR POUNDS’ WEIGHT OVER A HUNDRED MILES | From a Photograph. I have seen as little as half a crown paid to a man for carrying a load weighing one hundred and forty-four pounds (about one hundred and twenty Chinese pounds, the aver- age mule pack) for seven “marches,” each of which averaged between fifteen and twenty miles. By a special official permit we were allowed to keep our two horses, although we had to tramp by their side. When we reached an inn there was no stable, and the first night our two four-footed friends had to be accommodated in a room on the ground floor, showing much astonish- ment at their unusual quarters. In the middle of the night the smaller horse —a _ very playful animal—usually ridden by Mme. Courtellemont, strolled up the stairs into our room to see whether we were quite comfortable ! The little rascal made so much noise in accomplish- . ing the feat that he awakened the whole house- hold, and as we were un- able to make him turn in. our small room we had to compel him to jump out of the window, which was, fortunately, not far from the ground. Our carriers during this part of the journey afforded a painful sight. Owing to their heavy loads their bare feet slipped constantly on the

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THROUGH THE HEART OF CHINA. 321 treacherous ground, tearing them grievously. The great weight of the packs brought the blood to their aching shoulders, and the tight leather straps made huge grooves in their flesh, We were shocked and pained at the sight, and we pleaded for the luads to be lightened, offering, of course, to employ more men. The transport contractor, however, refused point-blank, ex- plaining that such a course would create a dangerous precedent and would cause him no end of trouble. We were therefore compelled to pocket our feelings and look elsewhere. The population of Se-Tchouen did not take at all kindly to us, and we journeyed along our way expecting every moment that some attack would be made upon us. Hatred of the “foreign devil” could be read in every face, and scowls and evil glances met our gaze on all hands. One evening we took it into our heads to stroll out by moonlight with a view to admiring Once more a beautiful triumphal arch which we had passed during the day. We set forth accompanied solely by an interpreter, but very soon a crowd had collected behind us, and hostile cries of “Cha yagen” (Death to the foreigners) arose from all parts. Pretending not to hear, we made our way to the shop of a car- penter from whom we had ordered some boxes in the morning, hoping that he would be able to let us out by the back of his premises into a comparatively deserted street, and hence into safety. The good man, respecting the laws of hos- pitality, admitted us most respectfully, but unfortunately we discovered that there was only one exit to his house—the door by which we had entered, and which was now blocked by the hostile crowd. We were literally caught in a trap ! The carpenter, seeing our danger, closed his shop, the action bringing forth exclamations of rage from the dense crowd, who threatened to pull down the shutters and set fire to the place. Our interpreter promptly translated all this to us, while our host remained calmly seated, ready to brave anything rather than break the sacred laws of hospitality. We felt that there was only one thing to be done ; we could not allow the good man to risk his life and property on our account, and there did not seem much to choose between being killed inside or out. I asked my wife whether she was afraid. Bravely and briefly she answered “No”; so, motioning to our anxious interpreter to follow, I threw the door wide open and stepped out. The people were like a mob of madmen, and at sight of us they howled like wild beasts Vol. xx.—41. escaped from their dens—like wolves ready for their prey. So far as I could see, our only hope lay in presenting a bold front, and convincing these shrieking savages that we were not afraid of them. So, with every nerve a-quiver, we stood motionless in front of the door, eyeing the mob steadily. Our apparent sang-froid began to have its effect; the nearest Chinamen fell back a little, and their shouts grew less fierce. The torches which had been lighted to set fire to the building were put under our very noses, and scowling faces peered intently into our own. With as much indifference as we could muster. expressed on our faces, we moved slowly forward, and little by little the mob reluctantly gave way. No one laid a hand on us, thank Heaven ; for I have no doubt that if one of the miscreants had summoned up enough pluck to so much as bump into us the spell would have been broken, and the whcie mob would have fallen upon us and torn us limb from limb. We walked slowly along the streets, weird-looking in the moonlight. Cries of “Cha yagen !” rose all around us, but still no one attacked us. As we passed the shops were quickly closed and the women ran away down side streets, while the men-folk followed us sullenly. Presently we arrived at a bridge leading over a canal, which we needs must cross to reach our inn, and the same thought occurred to both my wife and myself —the mob were waiting to throw us in to drown like rats. No outward sign, how- ever, betrayed our mental distress, and we crossed the bridge hemmed in by the crowd between the narrow parapets. This closeness was dangerous, for the blade of a knife might slip unseen between the hapless “foreign devil’s” ribs. However, we reached the other side in safety. A few more ‘steps and we entered the inn courtyard, where the doors were quickly slammed to and barricaded, leaving the dis- appointed mob outside. We were safe at last, but only owing to our self-control. The slightest exhibition of terror or haste would have sealed our fate. I look back upon that nerve-racking walk is one of the most trying experiences I have ever met with. We duly advised the authorities of our adventure and our military escort was_rein- forced. At daybreak we slipped through the still slumbering town into the open and resumed our journey. On arriving at Soui-Fou we understood why we had met with so much hostility during the latter part of our journey. This part of the country was in a state of agitation, another Boxer rising was expected at any moment, and the mandarins were>very anxious. The Euro-

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322 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THE AUTHOR'S JUNK DESCENDING THR RIVER, From a Photograph. peans at the local mission-house had received serious news of Christians having been mur- dered in a number: of places. In readiness for eventualities they had made their doors and windows more secure and laid in a stock of provisions, As for us, poor unfortunate travellers, the local people wished we were anywhere else, for we might be the cause of an outbreak. Finally, the harassed Governor “advised” us to leave. Full well we knew what the “advice” meant— practically an order to clear out. We therefore made inquiries as t6 hiring a junk to take us down the Yangtze to Tchong-King, as it was impossible for us to travel farther by land, the river being the only means of transport between the two places. We had to pay the /aopan (owner of a junk) a From a) ‘A SCENE ON THE YANGTZE, (Photograph.

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THROUGH THE HEART OF CHINA. 323 Cina ee ee From a) A STREET OF STEPS IN TCHONG-KING, (Photograph.

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324 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a) princely fee to get him to take us, as the crafty Celestial told us that in times like the present we were compromising passengers who might land him in serious trouble. We accepted his terms, and in due course found ourselves on the tossing waters of the Yangtze. We were able to take our horses with us, as there was ample room in the immense junk. Our equine friends were once more introduced to a new mode of living, but they were good beasts and easily © accommodated themselves to circumstances. In two days we reached Tchong-King, a populous industrial town on the banks of the Yangtze, that mighty river which carries commerce into the far-off provinces of Central China. There is a numerous European colony at Tchong-King—consuls, missionaries, doctors, engineers, English as well as French, so that we felt we were not entirely isolated from: civiliza- tion. There was a certain amount of anxiety among the Europeans, owing to the anti-foreign movement, open signs of which were manifest in the neighbourhood, but fortunately we were very near high Chinese officialdom, and all DAYBREAK ON THE YANGTZE. (Photograph, necessary precautions were taken for our safety. Before nightfall all the town gates were closed, sentries watched on the walls, and guards patrolled the streets. Last, but not least, there was at least one public execution a day, just to act as a salutary reminder to restless spirits ! There are always a few subjects in Chinese prisons ready to be operated upon for such a purpose ! Cholera periodically creates immense ravages in this town ; one is hardly able to walk a yard without coming upon a corpse or a patient in the last throes of the disease. Life counts for so very little in China that passers-by take no notice of either corpses or the dying; they proceed onwards apparently quite unmoved. Added to this, the poverty of the people was indescribable, caused mainly by the failure of the harvest. Little children were being cast forth to die of starvation owing to the impossibility of obtaining food for them, and one day as J passed through a deserted street’ I heard childish cries from a manure-heap a little way off. Ordering my

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THROUGH THE HEART OF CHINA. ‘porters to halt, I alighted and, proceeding to the spot, discovered a tiny mite of some six months old grovelling hopelessly among rubbish of all kinds—cabbage-stalks, empty tins, broken crockery, and rotten garbage. There can be no doubt that if one of the huge pigs that roam the Streets at will had perchance passed by here it would have made a meal of the unfortunate infant. Tenderly I picked up the little bundle of humanity, and we made straight for the mission-house. The good missionaries were dining when I entered with the screaming babe 325 in my arms, and I presented so comical an appearance that we all burst into roars of laughter. The child’s future was quickly provided for. I deposited a hundred taels (about twelve pounds) with the mission authorities, which payment entitled the little girl to be brought up in the orphanage attached to the mission-house until she was fifteen years of age, when she would either be married to some good man or given a situation as a servant with respectable people. From Tchong-King we still had about seven THE AUTHOR RESCUING A SIX-MONTHS-OLD BABY WHICH HAL BEEN THKOWN ON A_KUBBISH-HEAP TO DIE, a) THE PAKENTS BRING UNABLE TO SUPPORT IT. ( 7” ™ Ua f Photograph. Asa OC

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326 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. PASSING THE RAPIDS OF THE YANGIZE—“' INCH BY INCH THE JUNK IS HAULKD ONWARDS KY TEAMS OF MEN HARNESSED To CABLES: From a) OF TWISTED BAMBOO.” hundred kilometres to cover before reaching Shanghai, where our journey ended, but we travelled with the current of the river, which took us at a rapid pace to its mouth. We per- formed this part of the journey in an immense junk, which offered a surprising amount of accommodation. We had a dining-room, a sleeping-room, a kitchen, and another room for the use of our interpreter and “boys,” and for fourteen days we lived happily in our peaceful floating home. The “tans” (rapids) caused by the accumu- lation of rocks, which are precipitated as far as the middle of the stream by avalanches, are a serious danger to navigation. The journey up stream, against the current, offers tremendous difficulties. Inch by inch the junk is hauled onwards by teams of men harnessed to enor- mously thick cables of twisted bamboo. They bend to their work with all their might, and sometimes crawl over thorny rocks on all fours, leaving, more often than not, a trail of blood behind them. We who travelled seawards, however, made most rapid progress, the pace at times being terrific. We watched with bated breath the wonderful skill with which our native oarsmen guided our craft through passages full of dangerous rocks and eddies. At night we moored inshore near some village, so that we could buy provisions, and we occasionally took a ramble through the country-side with our interpreter, who seized the opportunity to do a little business on his own account. On occasions like these he (Photograph. picked up bargains of various kinds, and it was but seldom that he returned without a stock of odds and ends which he hoped to dispose of in Shanghai at considerable profit to himself. One of these bargains gave us a shock, for one day he came back to the junk with two young girls, aged between twelve and fifteen years, who followed meekly in his wake. “Why do these children follow you?” we asked. “ Because I have just bought them,” was the rejoinder. “I have only paid twelve taels (about one and a half guineas) for both, and I hope to sell them again at a good profit.” Well used as we were to Chinese methods, this cold-blooded purchase of slaves pained us not a little, but we could do nothing. It is the custom of the country, and we had to submit. Furthermore, our interpreter pointed out that, by taking this course, he had actually done a good deed—he had saved these hapless children from much suffering, and probably from actual starvation. We arrived eventually at I-Tchang, a large town in constant touch with civilization, a line of German steamers keeping up intercourse with Shanghai. We moved without any intervening transition from the primitive junk—not unlike - an ancient slave galley—into the electrically- lighted modern steamer, where we returned with a rush to the civilized life of the twentieth century. The change was so sudden that we failed to realize it, and for some time we felt

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THROUGH THE HEART OF CHINA. 327 altogether out of place. Our rough-and-ready travelling costumes formed a strange contrast to the gilded saloons and general luxury of the vessel, so we quickly opened our trunks and attired ourselves in clothing more in harmony with our surroundings. The strange life that we had been leading for so long seemed to drop off with our travelling outfit, and the journey, long and arduous as it had been, appeared for the moment to be something unreal, a dream of the past—scarcely ended, yet almost forgotten. From the deck of our steamer we could look around at our ease. There were no precipices here, no mule-paths where death lurked at every step, no ghastly-looking Chinese faces convulsed with hatred. The mouth of the river spread calmly before us, and monstrous junks, heavily laden, with sails outspread like butterflies’ wings of varied hue, moved lazily on the glassy surface of the smooth waters. Before bidding farewell to China, we decided to see that the two little slave girls we had on board were properly looked after; we made up our minds that they should not meet any un- SS ne ee | A TRADING JUNK AT THE MOUTH OF THE RIVER. From a Photograph. toward fate. Negotiations were satisfactorily concluded at last, and they were sold to an ‘ honourable family of Christians, where they immediately took their places as free servants. Thus we left Shanghai with the pleasant recol- lection of a deed well done. A ray of sun- shine lighted up two little faces that otherwise might never have smiled at all, and the incident brought our journey to a fitting close, in that we had left behind us a little happiness born of our wanderings in a strange and troubled land. ‘ THE Enp.

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The Black Princess. By Miss LoRIMIER DEANE. The authoress writes: ‘‘ This is an absolutely true story. The history of John Lindsly and his union with the dusky Princess is well known throughout the State of Florida. The Lindsly mansion and the three graves under the magnolia tree are among the ‘show places’ of the section.” ANY years before the emancipation of the American negro there lived at Fort George Island, on the eastern coast of Florida, one John Lindsly, a man who had accumulated great wealth in the slave trade. Mr. Lindsly, having purchased the entire Island of Fort George, which comprised twenty-five thousand acres of the most fertile soil in the State, ruled as a good but stern master over the hundreds of slaves whom he kept to cultivate the orange and lime groves and the cotton-fields of his large estate. Many of the slaves were constantly employed in building, on the coast-line of the island, the stout vessels which sailed to the coast of Africa, to return, before many months, bearing large cargoes of blacks. ‘These Mr. Lindsly sold at immense profit through the States south of the “Mason and Dixon” line. The expeditions to Africa were generally in charge of the skilful overseers synom Mr. Lindsly employed to negotiate with a powerful African potentate for the pur- chase of the slaves. On one of these ex- peditions, however, the mighty King was on the war path, and in no humour to be tempted by the white man’s gifts or the white man’s gold. The ship, in conse- quence, returned as empty as she had sailed. John Lindsly decided that this un- satisfactory state of things must not continue, and so, leaving his slaves and home in charge of the overseers, he boarded his ship and went himself to the jungle palace of the African King. After breasting many storms on the seas and enduring much hardship from the tramp through the jungles, infested with wild beasts, John Lindsly reached the dwelling-place of the King. From a\ Fe Here he was greeted with wailing and moan- ing from thousands of black throats. The mighty King had been wounded in battle, and was nigh unto death. “Tt’s an ill wind that blows nobody good.” Mr. Lindsly had never expected so easy a way to facilitate the object of his trip. He had some slight knowledge of surgery, and always carried an emergency case on his travels. At once he set to work, stopped the flow of blood, bound up the King’s wounds, and soon had him out of danger. When the black monarch recovered his grati- tude knew no bounds. He bestowed upon Mr. Lindsly a ship-load of his strongest and healthiest subjects, but even this did not seem sufficient to him to repay his obligation. Calling Mr. Lindsly to his side, after thank- ing him again, he gave .to him the greatest of his earthly treasures—his latest-born child by his favourite wife! A. 4~ tee tS JOHN LINDSLY'S MANSION AT FORT GRORGE ISLAND, FLORIDA, (Photograph. During a ceremony of wild singing and fan- tastic dancing a tiny black baby girl was placed in the white man’s arms! Then, after a grateful farewell to the King, Mr. Lindsly started for his ship, followed by his slaves, and bearing in his arms the small, naked form of the little black Princess Hannah.

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THE BLACK PRINCESS. 329 When the return journey had been made the cargo of human freight was unloaded from the ship. Some of the slaves were sold, and many were retained upon the island. The small Princess Hannah was sent with others to the slave quarters ; and John Lindsly, busy with the countless details of his estate, soon forgot that he was the custodian of a princess of royal blood. To him she was as the others—a slave pure and simple, valuable only for the children she might bear or for the price she herself might bring in the slave-market. But the black people on the island held different ideas. To them the little Princess was a mighty person. She was the daughter of their King, and much homage was paid to her accord- ingly. They served her faithfully and well, bringing to her surreptitiously the choicest fruit - from the gardens, while her small person was always decked with strings of the brightest by her people, her eyes wandered from the loving black faces around her, and she looked across and beyond the cotton-fields to the home of “ Master” Lindsly. Then there entered into the soul of this child of the jungle a longing to know more of the white man’s ways, to acquire some of the white man’s knowledge, some of the white man’s wisdom. That day, as John Lindsly lay in his ham- mock beneath the palmetto trees, a slender, brown, bead-decked figure appeared suddenly before him. The master frowned his displeasure on the slave who dared enter his presence un- bidden, but the frown had no terrors for Princess Hannah. She folded her slim arms across her breast and waited the master’s permission to speak. When it was given, she told the master, in rude, uncultured speech, of her ambition. “She wished to learn to read, to write, to gain knowledge of books and of the world,” she said. “SHE FOLDED HER SLIM ARMS ACROSS HER BREAST AND WAITED THE MASTER'S PERMISSION TO SPEAK,” beads. So this little savage grew to girlhood, accepting as her Royal right the adoration of her black subjects, who were yet the white man’s slaves. Princess Hannah was content and happy till she reached her thirteenth birthday. As she sat in front of her little stone cabin surrounded Vol. xx.—42. “She did not as& these things of the master, she demanded them ; it was her right. She was not a slave, but the daughter of a King, bestowed upon the white man as a precious gift prompted by the gratitude of a mighty monarch !” : John Lindsly looked long into the soft brown eyes of the Princess.as she waited his reply. He

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330 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. S CABIN IN THE SLAVE QUARTPRS. told her he would consider her request ; then, with a dignified gesture, she bade him farewell and returned to the slave quarters. He watched her picturesque young figure reflectively as she moved away beneath the light and shadows of the orange trees, walking with the free, graceful step of the wild beasts of her native jungle. As her figure disappeared from view the master whispered dreamily to himself, “Why not? Why not ?” The next morning, on the aiday back veranda of the Lindsly mansion, the education of the Princess Hannah was begun. After much per- suasion the maiden sister of Mr. Lindsly, a rare type of the Southern gentlewoman, consented to impart knowledge to the little offspring of African nobility. At first Miss Lindsly, with true Southern instinct, held herself aloof as much as possible from: one whom she considered a slave, but as she watched Princess Hannah’s almost gluttonous craving for knowledge, and noted the appealing expression in the soft brown eyes, she gradually grew to love the little savage, who in turn loved Miss Lindsly with all the strength of her heart. As week followed week Princess Hannah became more versed in the white man’s ways, spent much time in the white man’s home, and at the end of that year, when Miss Lindsly died, it was Princess Hannah who reverently closed the dead eyes, and who kept a sleepless, jealous watch over the bier of the gentle, loving friend,who had taught her patience and wisdom. After his sister’s death John Lindsly—at first from pity, but afterwards from interest—himself continued the education of the Princess. He often marvelled at the rapid progress she made, for, by some strange freak of Nature, - Princess Hannah was gifted with a brain wonderful for a child born of African parents on African soil. When the morning lessons were finished the master would relate many interesting tales of history and romance to the Princess, who sat, a silent, attentive listener, on the steps of the veranda. Often in the evening the master would stroll down to the slave quar- ters and past the door of the little cabin where dwelt the Princess. Sometimes he would leave the darkness of the night outside and join her in front of the old Southem fireplace. The Princess, ati the flames leap up the wide chimney, would dream of a future when she would leave the slave quarters for ever and live as one of Royal blood should live, while the master was content to watch the girl as she sat in the warm glow of the fire-light. This slender, passionate child of the jungle was beginning to fill a place in lonely John Lindsly’s heart which no white woman had ever occupied. Life continued in this way for this strange couple till Princess Hannah reached her six- teenth birthday. At sunrise, as was their wont EPLACE IN PRINCESS HANNAH'S CABIN, From a Photograph. J

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THE BLACK PRINCESS. 331 on these anniversaries, the slaves collected in front of her cabin to do her homage. With head erect she stood in the doorway looking down at her people as in the years gone by ; then she looked away from the loving black faces and over the cotton-fields to the white man’s home. In the midst of the celebration a messenger bade them all assemble in the rear of the Mr. Lindsly watched from the master’s house. the white man’s mate! With no kith or kin to censure his action John Lindsly lived on, un- molested and happy. Content on his island with the dog-like, passionate love of his dusky bride, he cared little for the condemnation of the outside world. By the next ship that- sailed to Africa a message was sent to the King telling him of his daughter’s union with the white man who had THE REAR VERANDA OF MR. LINDSLY’S HOUSE, THE SCENE OF THR UNION BETWEEN THE WHITE MAN AND THE PRINCESS, From a Photograph. veranda the approach of the three hundred slaves, headed by the Princess, carried aloft on the shoulders of her people. The master called the maiden to his side and placed around her head a costly jewelled serpent of the purest gold. The soft brown eyes filled . with tears, and very gently she whispered: “I thank you, my master.” John Lindsly’s heart gave a great throb. He realized that he loved this slave-girl with a mighty love. Seeing beneath the brown skin the keen intelligence, the pure heart, the spotless soul of the true woman, he suddenly took the brown hand in his and turned to the wondering slaves who stood in silence in the yard beneath them. Princess Hannah looked down proudly on her people: as the master spoke, for instinctively she realized what was coming. “ According to the laws of this land I cannot legally marry this woman,” cried Mr. Lindsly, in ringing tones, “but. here before you all I proclaim her my wife! Serve her, honour her. obey her as the mistress of my estate, the mistress of my house.” ° And so Princess Hannah passed into the white man’s home as the white man’s equal, as doctored his wounds. In return he sent a ship- load of valuable ivory and two hundred slaves as a token of his pleasure. Two girls were born of the union between the white man and the African maiden—Sarah, the elder, who, though much lighter in colour, inherited many of her mother’s features, and Mary, a delicate child who possessed the blue eyes and fair complexion of her father, her abundance of wavy black hair being the only suggestion of African blood. This younger child, bearing the name of Mr. Lindsly’s dead sister, was the idol of Princess Hannah’s heart. She divided her love between this, her white child, and the master. Sarah, the elder girl, was much loved by her father and received the same care arid the same education as her sister, but the mother could never forgive her for having inherited African features ; they were a constant reminder of her own young life spent in the slave. quarters. In the years following the birth of the two girls John Lindsly resigned the greater part of the management of his estate to Princess Hannah. Under her wise direction the Island of Fort George flourished. The orange, lime,

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332 and cotton crop each season grew larger and wealth poured in upon them. At sunset the master would sit with his two children on the veranda, while the Princess stood, a majestic figure, at the head of the steps, looking down on the slaves who assembled ASSEMBLED IN THK YARD BENEATH.” in the yard beneath to answer to the evening roll-call. They loved and honoured their mistress, and for her sake lived in harmony among themselves. There was not an estate in the whole Southern country so well managed, so rich in products, as the Island of Fort George under the rule of Princess Hannah. The happiness of the Lindslys’ home was complete, save only for one thing—the parents’ fears for the future of their two girls. Often, in their mutual anxiety, the master and the Princess “THE PRINCESS STOOD AT THE HEAD OF THE STEPS, LOOKING DOWN ON THE SLAVES WHO THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. would sit late into the night thinking and plan ning. Ultimately they decided that, as money could buy almost anything, money should buy white husbands for the two children whom they loved so dearly. So, when the elder girl, Sarah, reached the age of seventeen, the following . curious advertisement appeared in the leading papers of the Northern States : “Thirty thousand dollars in cash will be paid to any respectable white man who will legally marry the daugh- ter of a Southern white man and an African Princess.” In three weeks a reply was re- ceived in -the shape of a letter from one Richard Laxter, who resided in a small town in the State of Ver- mont. Mr. Laxter stated that he would willingly marry Sarah if the thirty thousand dollars were paid over to him on the day of the wedding, and providing the girl were in sound health and of good morals. After several letters had been exchanged and the wedding outfit completed, John *Lindsly took his elder daughter to the small Vermont town, where sheduly became the wife of Richard Laxter. The marriage proved a most unhappy one for Sarah. After Mr. Lindsly had returned to the South, Richard Laxter, being in possession of the thirty thousand dollars, at once informed his wife that she could not receive his guests or sit at his table. He told her plainly that, although wedded to him, her position would simply be that of a servant in his house. So for four years this girl, who had been respected and accustomed to every luxury in her father’s home, was compelled to put up with all sorts of insults and lead the life of a slave. She endured the indignity in silence, however, until a letter came telling her that the father whom she so dearly loved had been stricken with paralysis. She said not a word to her white husband, but, taking her two children, left his house for ever, and returned to her home and

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THE BLACK PRINCESS. her father. A sad welcome awaited her, for John Lindsly ‘lay dying. Sarah never left his bedside, and if the grief-stricken Princess Hannah resented the daughter's constant presence there, the pleading eyes of the dying man kept her silent. When they buried the master beneath the old magnolia tree at the foot of the garden, Sarah still kept watch by her father’s side. The next day her lifeless body was found across the grave of the one she had loved best in all the world, with the master’s pistol in her hand. They buried the poor, unfortunate girl by her father’s side. Four years after the death of John Lindsly Princess Hannah realized that her favourite daughter, Mary, was of marriageable age, and that her future must be settled. Many of the Southern white men who saw the beautiful, ac- complished girl would willingly have married her, but Princess Hannah preferred a Northerner, one who had never owned slaves, and who could ignore the black strain in her child’s blood. So the advertisement appeared once again in the papers of the North. Many youths in quest of fortune made the long journey to the Southern island, but all returned rejected, till one day Alfred Tammas, a member of a good but im- poverished family, appeared at the Lindsly home, after much previous correspondence. The Princess and her daughter at once looked with favour on this man ; and Alfred Tammas, who had expected to see in his pro- spective wife the complexion and features of a negress, fell deeply in love with the deli- cate, fair young girl. The ‘Princess accompanied the pair to the State of New York, where they were THE RUINS OF THE CASTLE BUILT BY PRI Froma PRINCESS HANNAH, THE DAUGHTER OF AN AFRICAN KING, WHO BECAME THE WIFE OF JOHN LINDSLY. From a Sketch by Chas. Roy Bowers of the original painting at the Lindsly mansion. 333 married. She watched from the dock till the . ship which bore the young couple on their honeymoon trip to Europe was out of sight ; then she returned to her home, taking with her a famous archi- tect, who at once began to erect on the coast-line of the island a magnificent castle, which was to be Princess Hannah’s wed- ding present to her child. When the foundation was laid a letter came announcing the date on which the young couple would arrive at the island, and when the day came on which the mother’s heart was to be glad- dened by the sight of her daugh- ter the first storey of the struc- ture was complete. All day the Princess watched and waited, and the many days and weary weeks that followed found her still watching and waiting. At last the tidings came that the ship on which the young couple had sailed had been wrecked, and every soul on board lost ! Broken-hearted, Princess Hannah took up the threads of her lonely life, and ruled over the white man’s estate with wisdom until she died, but she never quite recovered from the shock of her terrible loss. At the age of seventy-two she died, and was buried under the magnolia tree by the master’s side. On the tombstone which marks the grave of this ambitious African woman is the inscription :— “Here lies the body of Princess Hannah, who was the daughter of an African King, the mate of the white ‘man, and the mother of the white man’s children.” The present owners of the Lindsly estate show with pride the crum- bling old tomb- stones of the three graves beneath the mag- nolia tree, and they often relate tointerested visi- torsthe romantic omnia story of the black rae E ; Princess.

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The Sea-Gipsies of Mergui. By R. N. RupMose Brown, B.Sc. An account of a practicall unknown tribe of sea-wanderers, among whom the author recently spent several months while making scientific researches on behalf of the Indian Government. J FF the Malay Peninsula, where Southern Burma and Siam meet, lies an archipelago of over a hun- dred scattered islands and countless barren rocks, forming a_ veritable labyrinth of channels and creeks, many of which have been seldom or never visited by Europeans —except, perhaps, in the rough survey of the group made years ago. This is the Mergui Archipelago, and a more ideal place could scarcely be found for the home of the strange tribe of people known as the Sea-Gipsies, or, in more precise language, the Selungs. ‘They constitute one of the most primitive and least- known of all the races of mankind, and probably do not number more than a thousand souls all told. Dusky, truculent - looking savages of marked Mongolian features, and clad in the scantiest of raiment, they are at first sight far from _ prepossess- ing, but their ap- pearance belies them, and one is surprised to find them on_ nearer acquaintance timid and shy. Often on my ap- proaching an en- campment of sea- gipsies on a sandy beach, the whole party would run off into the dense jungle, leaving behind them only their boats, 2 few rude cooking-pots, and a pack of yelping mongrel curs, without which companions they are never found. After much coaxing and the liberal offering of bribes in the form of biscuits, tobacco, and red handkerchiefs, D ¢ FROM A SHORE ENCAMPMENT, COMPC From a) the party may be at length induced to emerge one by one from their hiding-places, but even then only the older men will come forward and talk with the ‘ white pirates.” ‘Their life for half the year, when the weather is dry and the water calm, is a purely nomadic one, and at that season they have no home other than their boats and no permanent resting- place. ‘hey wander from island to island—one day fishing, another collecting mother-of-pearl shell, and the next day searching the jungle for the honey of the wild bee. Each night they draw up their frail boats on a convenient sandy beach and camp on the edge of the jungle. An encampent is soon formed, for their personal belongings are scanty. While the women are cook- ing fish and rice, or perhaps some shell-fish, over a fire, the men remove the palm- leaf awnings bodily from the boats, bamboo supports and all, and plant them in the sand. Under- neath this scanty shelter they spread a few mats of plaited palm-leaf, bring a gourd or two of honey from the boat, a few 7 a plantains, and THE PALM-LEAF AWNING AND SUPPORTS THE BOATS. (Photograph. some bamboo vessels full of fresh water. The encampment is then complete and the sea-gipsies compose themselves for their supper. At daybreak they probably put to sea again to seek the day’s food. One would expect to find these people sleek and well nourished, seeing that they live the

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THE SEA-GIPSIES OF MERGUI. 335 From a) THE SEA-GIPSIES’ FLOATING HOME, “simple life” in a land of tropical luxuriance, but the very reverse is the case. With a few exceptions all the sea-gipsies appear hungry and even half-starved at times, and they seldom have a day’s supply of food in their boats. They cultivate no rice, but obtain it all by barter from the Burmese on the mainland; they seldom plant cocoanut palms or plantains, and they capture all their fish with spears, a slow and laborious process compared with the use of a net. Nevertheless, they seem very happy and contented with their lot, provided only that they are left alone. The children, on whom no clothing is wasted, used to shriek with delight at the whistle of the steam launch when I turned it on, and the most timid of the sea-gipsies would eagerly approach in their boats to watch the revolution of the propeller, which seemed to be a source of absorbing interest and endless delight to them. It is a poor people that excels in nothing, and the Selung must be accorded his due meed of praise as a boat-builder. The basis of the boat, which is some fifteen feet long, is an elegantly- fashioned double-bowed dug-out, with a curious semi-circular notch cut out at either end, which enables the children to climb into the boat—for almost as soon as they can toddle they learn the amphibious habits of their parents. On this dug-out the From a) bulwarks of the craft are built * from long strips taken from palm- leaf stalk laid one above another and lashed with rattans to up- rights fixed into the hull. When a sufficient height of upper-work is obtained the whole is made. water-tight with an ample appli- cation of balsam from certain kinds of pine trees found in the islands. At one end of the boat a large rudder is fixed, and the after half is decked over with roughly-fashioned planks, which are also used for thwarts in the other half. A roof of palm leaves on a bamboo structure forms the “cabin”; a strong bamboo mast is placed in position stayed with rattans, and a square sail of plaited palm-leaf strips completes the boat's equipment—and the proud possessor, having finished his own craft, is ready to rank among the adults of the tribe. When one considers that the only tools employed are a rough adze and a knife, and that neither bolts, nails, metal work, nor cord (other than vegetable rattans) enter into the composition of the craft, one must admit that it is a triumph of boat- building skill. The test of a vessel, however, is its sea-going qualities, and neither in this respect do the sea-gipsies’ boats fail, though it is true that in the shelter of the islands they never have to encounter the rough waves of the open ocean. It is only when the fine and dry season is (Photograph, A GIPSY IN HIS BOAT—THESE CURIOUS CRAFT ARE CONSTRUCTED ENTIRFLY WITHOUT NAILS OR ROVE. (Photograph.

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336 over and the wet and stormy weather of the south-west mon- soon sets in about May that the sea- gipsies forsake their floating homes and seek the shelter of the land. The en- suing five or six months of storm and rain is what these wandering people dread; debarred from their normal occupations they can only fish in the calmer waters under the lee of the shore, while the primitive palm-leaf and bamboo dwellings that they erect at this season are quite inadequate to pro- tect them from the inclemency of the weather. Boats and sails are prepared for the next season, old ones are repaired, and numbers of mats are woven ; but despite these necessary tasks it is with joy that the sea-gipsies hail their ig THE | 5 eatin ~ From a) ve —s ela SEA-GIrSY GODS. WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. (Photograph. liberation from a sedentary life when the fine season re- turns. Little wonder that this event should be the occasion for a great festival and religious ceremony — the only one, in fact, that they hold throughout the year. Around primitive wooden idols, meant in a crude way to represent the form cf a human figure, the sea-gipsies gather and dance to the music of shark-skin drums, while offer- ings of food, in the shape of fish and honey, are made to Theedah (“the Spirit”). The wily Chinaman, who abounds in: Lower Burma, has found it worth his while to come across to these primitive folk, and whenever this festival is due he arrives with a plentiful supply of spirituous liquor—needless to say, of the vilest THE FLIMSY DWELLINGS IN WHICH “THE TRIBESMEN LIVE IN WINTER, WHEN STORMY WEATHER From a) COMVELS THEM TO REMAIN ON LAND. (Photograph.

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THE SEA-GIPSIES OF MERGUI. 337 quality. The Selungs eagerly buy this, bartering away what few worldly goods they have to try and satisfy the demands of the rascal with the “ fire-water.” As a consequence, the festival has of late years become a wild orgy of drunkenness, which knows no cessation until all the spirits have been consumed and the populace have at length recovered from the effects. Theedah being then propitiated, the espe = sea-gipsies put to sea for their six or seven months of wandering. Conditions of life such as those under which the sea-gipsies live are not conducive to a settled form of government, and one is not surprised to find that each group of families is practically a tribe in itself, among which the oldest grey- beard leads. Yet among the more northern and _ some- what less roving Selungs there is a kind of king, and though his subjects only num- ber a few hundreds, and he has to work for his food like the rest of them, yet his authority is recognised . in the settlement of differences and in all dealings with Burmese and Chinese traders. He is a keen, intelli- gent man, apparently about forty years of age—he has no idea himself. what his’ age is— speaks Burmese fluently, has no fear of strangers, white or brown, and has the further distinction of having been able in his youth to dive to a depth of forty-eight feet. The accompanying photograph of tkis chief was taken in his own boat, in which he came off from his island to visit me when I anchored in the bay. I subsequently went ashore and was shown his house,'a fairly well- built dwelling of palm leaf and bamboo, divided into five small rooms. These were not elabor- ately furnished, but—of far more importance to him—one was full of ripe pods of the cotton tree and another of dried fish, which possessions showed the sea-gipsies’ chief to be a wealthy man. Vol. xx.—43. THE KING OF THE SEA-GIPSIES—HE WORKS FOR HIS LI THE REST OF THEM, KUT HAS A GOOD DEAL OF PO! From a Photograph. He discoursed with me at great length through my interpreter, and presented me to his daughter, a strapping, if not very comely, maiden of seventeen. On his reassurance the tribe collected and were grouped for a photograph, after which he thoughtfully sent two of the women to cut plantains and pine-apples, which he presented to me, nor would he take any payment save a few biscuits. Tobacco is | generally greedily ac- cepted by the sea- gipsies, but this chief was an exception, for he never smoked. ‘The social rites of these strange people are as few as their religious observances : they have no amuse- ments and play no games, not even the children; their whole life from infancy to death is occupied in a fight with Nature for sufficient food. The slight intercourse they have with the Bur- mese, Malays, Chinese, and Siamese of the mainland séems_ to have little influence in elevating them to a higher standard = of life; but it must equally be admitted that it has no de- generating effect, with the single ex- ception of the occa- sional drinking bouts. The extreme timidity of the sea-gipsies and their fear even of friendly-disposed white men are no doubt largely due to the dread they enter- tain of being attacked by Malay dacoits. In the past this was a frequent occurrence, for the Mergui Archipelago, not many decades ago, was a renowned haunt of pirates, who preyed on passing sailing ships and the Chinese junks which frequent these waters. he firmer estab- lishment of British rule in Burma and the paci- fication of the Malay States of the peninsula have struck a blow at these miscreants and deprived them of their lucrative livelihood. However, they are far from extinct, and though they never trouble large ships and hesitate to attack native boats for fear of swift reprisals, the

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338 THE WIDE WORLD small pearling schooners which work in the archipelago and the defenceless sea-gipsies are not immune from molestation ; especially is this the case among the more remote islands on the frontier of British influence. One would hardly suppose that a Selung boat would constitute a great catch for these gentry, but it must be remembered that the gipsies spend a good part of their time in diving for mother-of-pearl shell of various kinds, which is a valuable enough commodity of commerce, though it is unlikely that the Selungs ever get the true market price from their Chinese pur- chasers. The possibility of a boat containing a valuable pearl or two is an additional temptation for the dacoits. After all, a great deal of piracy has always been done for the sheer love of violence and robbery by restless and aggressive people, while the hope of gain is often a secondary incentive ; and the Malays in all = countries are a [ roving, warlike race. | However, a raid | on a Selung plan- tation of plantains, pineapples, and mangoes is always worth while, as a large amount of food can be pro- cured at next to no trouble. These raids entail no butchery, for there is no resistance on the part of the sea- gipsies; a trident fishing-spear would be a poor weapon of protection ae A TYPICAL GROUP OF GIPSLES. MAGAZINE. against armed Malays. One tribe of Selungs told me that they would willingly forsake their roving existence for a more settled life and cultivate the soil, but they feared the pirates, who had repeatedly attacked and laid waste such settlements whenever they had been formed in the past. At the present day the sea-gipsies only cultivate one island and a few insignificant gardens here and there. This cultivated island, where, by the way, the chief above mentioned lives, is not a day’s sail from the town of Mergui, and lies only a few miles off the track of a weekly steamer which traverses that part of the archipelago, so that there is little fear of dacoits paying it any attention. There, at least, the poor hunted sea-gipsies can find a safe haven and attempt to forsake their nomadic life for a more settled and civilized one. : As to the origin of the sea-gipsies, men of science are _ still hopelessly at vari- ance. Different theories have been advanced, several of them undoubtedly wrong, and all that can be said with certainty -is that these people, both in features and in language, show Malay relationships ; but of their history nothing is known and they appear to have no traditions, so that it is likely that the sea-gipsies will remain one of the riddles of anthro- pology. A oy, ¢ whe From a Photograph,

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The Robbery in the Rue Scribe. By Maurice VERNON. The full details of what has been designated by the police of England, France, and America as the most daring coup in the annals of criminal history —the robbery at the American Express Company's premises in Paris on the night of April 27th, 190r—are here placed for the first time before the readers of “The Wide World Magazine.” The story is unique in that every particular and incident is vouched for by the persons concerned—by the detectives in the case ; the manager of the Express Company; the coloured lad who was tied up by the robbers; the special agent of the company who had charge of the matter during the search for and prosecution of the robbers; and ‘Dutch Gus,” whose evidence was mainly responsible for the conviction of his confederates. # OM EDWARDS—+to use the name under which he has hitherto figured in this real-life drama—turned coolly and stowly as Detective Debisschop touched him on the shoulder. “We would like to speak to you a moment,” said M. Debisschop, quietly. Edwards nonchalantly knocked the ash from his big cigar. “Certainly, gentlemen,” he re- plied, and led the way into a smoking compart- ment, the officers watching him like a hawk. When the three men were seated, the tall, well- groomed man turned to the detectives with a careless smile. ‘ Well, what can I do for you?” he asked. “T hold here a warrant of arrest for one Edward Guerin, for having robbed the safe of the American Express Company, and I believe you to be that man,” answered M. Debisschop. The suspected man laughed outright. “ You chaps are making a grievous mistake,” he said. “My name is not Guerin, but Edwards. I am an American gentleman of means, and have been on a visit to France. However, I can readily understand that- you boys must make an occasional mistake.” “If we are mistaken, I am very sorry,” re- plied M. Debisschop; ‘but you answer the description of the man for whom we are search- ing, and it is our duty to place you under arrest.” Edwards now assumed an air of injured dignity. “I tell you it is an error,” he said, angrily, “and you can be thankful I am easy- going, or I should report this insult to your superiors. As it is, I advise you to be careful in future; it is no small matter to approach a gentleman in such a fashion.” Guerin’s assumption of indignation (for the man to whom the detectives were speaking was certainly Edward Guerin, no matter who “ Tom Edwards” might be) was perfect; his whole IL. pose was a most clever piece of acting. Detective Thevenot, however, gave a quick glance at a police photograph of Guerin, looked at the man himself, and then quietly nodded to his brother detective. “If we are wrong, we shall of course be held accountable for our actions,” said M. Debisschop, “and you can no doubt convince the magistrate at Amiens of your identity, but you will certainly leave the train at that place in custody.” Guerin’s eyes shot fire, his face hardened, and for a moment it looked as though there might be a struggle, but only for a moment. The officers moved up close, and Guerin, himself a brave man, recognised the fact that he had encountered two individuals as brave as himself, and ready to act under any circumstances with- out regard for the consequences. There was silence for perhaps a matter of ten seconds ; then Guerin said, “ Of course, if you insist I will accompany you, but I shall certainly make you pay for your error.” . There can be no question that at this stage Guerin believed he could convince the magistrate at Amiens that he was other than himself, for this shrewd man realized that there was no “working ” the two detectives, although there still remained the chance of throwing dust in the eyes of a provincial official. Guerin continued smoking his cigar, while the Officers, ever on the alert for his slightest move- ment, sat opposite him. All three were quite cool—the one turning the situation over in his brain, thinking hard how to get out of a very tight corner; the other two, sure of their man and anxious only to keep him now they had him. Soon the train reached Amiens, and, with Thevenot in front of him and the second detective bringing up the rear, Guerin was walked through the train. As the trio reached

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340 THE WIDE one of the compartments near the rear door of the coach a woman rose in her seat and made as if to speak to the prisoner. A hurried, meaning glance passed between them, and with a sigh the woman turned her face towards the window of the compartment, away from the officers. Quickly as this little episode had been enacted the eagle eyes of the detectives had seen it, and they recognised the woman as one of the most daring female “ grafters ” and confidence- trick opera- tors who ever lived, a woman known as an accomplice — of clever crooks, and one suspec- ted, moreover, as having had a hand in the Ex- press Company robbery —“ Chi- cago May.” There was no time to waste on her just now, however, for in the first place the officers held no warrant for her arrest, and in the second it suited their con- venience to let her escape. On reaching the platform M. Thevenot and M. Debisschop exchanged a glance, and in a flash Guerin’s right wrist was circled by a Me chain handcuff, an instrument so severe that the slightest twist or turn of the handles can be made to break the ligaments of a man’s forearm. Guerin resented the “bracelet.” “Is _ this necessary ?” he queried. “Perhaps not; but advisable,” replied Debisschop. The three were now driven to the Police Prefecture, where Guerin was arraigned before the investigating magistrate. A search of his person revealed nothing incriminating beyond a “IN A FLASH GUERIN'S RIGHT WKIST WAS ENCIRCLED BY A STEEL CHAIN HANDCUFF.” WORLD MAGAZINE. revolver of large calibre, which caused the magistrate to inquire whether such toys were necessary to the pleasure of wealthy Americans. Guerin replied (for he still persisted in his story of mistaken identity) that he was wont to take large sums of money about with him, and carried the revolver as a measure of protection. After a lengthy examination, during which Guerin used every artifice in attempting to convince the Magistrate that he was Mr. Thomas Ed- wards, of the United — States of America, Detective ‘The- venot quietly produced an American police photograph — of Guerin and documents proving a_pre- vious conviction in France. No further argu- ment was pos- sible, and Ed ward = Guerin, alias Tom Ed- wards, was lodged in jail for removal to Paris at the con- venience of the police authori- ties. Meanwhile the detectives made a search for the third suspect in the robber y— “Kid”? Mce- Manus. He, however, had made good his escape, sailing to Canada, but did not enjoy liberty for long. Shortly after his arrival there McManus was caught red-handed robbing a safe. He was tried, convicted, and sentenced to ten years’ penal servitude, which he is still undergoing. : Before long Guerin was taken to Paris and incarcerated in the Sant¢ Prison. From here he wrote several letters to ‘‘ Chicago May,” who had meanwhile arrived safely in London. This woman, in the belief that the French detectives c — a

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THE ROBBERY IN THE RUE SCRIBE. 341 knew nothing of her, and, further, quite satisfied that she was under no suspicion, deliberately returned to Paris with the intention of aiding Guerin. The authorities permitted her to see the prisoner, and then, to “ May’s” great surprise, she also was arrested and locked up as an accessory. Guerin, knowing that any further attempt to deny his identity was futile, now set about an endeavour to confute the evidence of ‘“ Dutch Gus” Miller, who had “ put him away ” by con- fessing to the police. The men were confronted in the presence of a strong guard, and “ Dutch Gus” repeated to the authorities the necessary evidence upon which to hold Guerin; the detectives having meanwhile col- lected what to their minds was sufficient additional information to prove Guerin’s complicity in the crime. For many months these three, Guerin, “ Dutch Gus,” and “ Chicago May,” lay in prison awaiting trial while the authorities forged, link by link, their chain of conclusive evidence. When at last the day of trial came the prisoners were repre- sented by able counsel, Guerin especially being defended by one of the cleverest criminal lawyers in France. “ Dutch Gus,” of course, pleaded guilty, but Guerin and the woman denied all knowledge of the affair, Guerin’s defence being an a/#dz and a denial of his acquaintance with “Gus.” The fight put up by this intelligent man and his clever counsel was one of the greatest battles the prosecuting attorneys ever had to deal with ; but the defence had forgotten the keen detectives who had worked for so many months ferreting out every movement of the man they had placed in the dock. Guerin swore he was asleep in bed at his hotel on the night of the robbery ; the pro- prietor of this hotel and the servants on duty swore to the contrary. It was also shown that “Gus” Miller, Guerin, and McManus had often been seen in company; certain of the moneys stolen were traced to the prisoners ; “Chicago May’s” connection with the affair was also demonstrated, for some of the French notes had been changed by her in London; while . cheques on the American Express Company had been negotiated in Scotland and Berlin by another member of the gang, who received some of the “paper” from Paris direct, and more from the woman. The shopkeeper who had sold the robbers the rope with which Seger had been tied also gave incriminating testimony. So many seemingly insignificant little things, From a Photograph. pieced together, made the case for the State irrefutable. Guerin and “Chicago May” were found guilty, the first-named as an actual participant with “Dutch Gus” and “Kid” McManus, the woman as an accessory. The judge solemnly commanded the prisoners to stand up. They did so—‘ Dutch Gus” with shaking knees and bent head; Guerin —immacu- lately attired as ever—with a fearless, defiant air; and “Chicago May” with a smile of con- tempt on her good-looking face. The judge, seeming to ignore the other two, looked Guerin straight in the face and pro- nounced a sentence more terrible than death on the two men— imprisonment for life in Cayenne, one of the most pestilential spots on earth. The woman was given a sentence of five years. Guerin heard the fateful words without moving a muscle, whereas Miller, the informer, seemed thunderstruck, for no doubt he had expected a certain amount of clemency for having turned State’s evidence, The prisoners were removed, and Guerin -— beyond doubt a brave man—again showed his coolness under trying circum- stances by quietly asking one of the officers for a cigar ! France, of course, has local prisons, but desperate characters and persons whom the authorities believe to be habitual criminals are sent across the ocean to the islands and main- land of Cayenne and the prisons in New Caledonia. At stated intervals batches of con- victs are sent to these places in prison ships. The largest of these convoys is the steamer Loire, and it was in her that Guerin and Miller made the journey to their terrible destination. On these convict ships the prisoners are penned below decks beneath a grill, which is battened down in stormy weather, leaving the unfortunates in a dark, stuffy hole. The men are brought up on deck a few at a time-fora breath of air for half an hour each day—and the voyage lasts from two weeks to a month, according to the weather. For eighteen days Guerin and Miller languished in the Zosre ; on the nineteenth day she anchored off France's dumping-ground for criminals and the prisoners were taken ashore, each “division” to its separate island. Guerin with a certain number of his fellow-prisoners was drafted to the mainland, which is separated only by a channel the width of the Thames from Devil’s Island, where the unhappy Dreyfus suffered his martyrdom. Arrived at the prison barracks—a long, shed-

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342 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. like structure, each division of which shelters some twenty-five men—the new arrivals were shown their places. The beds were bare platforms, higher at the head than at the feet, and raised only some two feet from the damp malarial ground. Each prisoner was given a blanket, a pair of sioes, and a coarse linen coat, trousers, shirt, and a broad-brimmed sun-bonnet, which completed his “kit.” Here, then, Edward Guerin started to serve the life- sentence passed upon him. I say “started to serve” advisedly, for that is virtually all this determined man did do, for Guerin—ever following his own lead—even here refused to “HE CRAWLED ACROSS AN OPEN SPACE TU THF SWAMPY UNDERGROWTH.” obey the Courts of France, and looked about him with only one purpose in view—escape. That a man of Guerin’s stamp would remain passive under existing conditions in this French penal settlement his friends did not believe, and, so far as that goes, neither did the officials ; and Guerin did not disappoint them or himself, for he did escape, under most sensational circum- stances. There have been several accounts published as to how Guerin made his famous escape, but nearly all are incorrect. Edward Guerin escaped entirely “on his own,” without outside help. He relied only on himself, as such a man would do, mapped out a programme, and carried it out to the letter. Not a day, not a moment passed but Guerin © was thinking out some feasible way of escape. For nearly four years this man—doing his daily task under a tropical sun in the pestilential atmosphere of those fever-haunted islands, sur- rounded by cut-throat murderers and equally pleasant companions — worked on doggedly, always thinking over the problem of escape. His chance did not come, however, till, falling ill, he was transferred to the prison sanatorium, where he was treated much better and the supervision was not quite so strict. Here he struck up an acquaintance with two Frenchmen rather above the standard of the other convicts ; and these two, as eager as him- self to escape, made up their minds to go with him should the propitious moment ever arrive. Ultimately the three men learnt that a canoe belong- ing to one of the warders was kept hidden at a cer- tain point, but it was court- ing almost positive death to try to reach it. The trio resolved to have a try for it, however, and with the future in mind saved as much as possible of their food and water. The day decided upon for the at- tempt having arrived, Guerin left his two com- panions to make their way to the hidden canoe as best they could. He himself waited until after roll-call, _a sleepy warder giving him the opportunity of leaving his work just before turn- ing-in time. Quietly he made his way to some prison buildings of the settlement, then, drop- ping flat on the ground, he crawled across an open space to the swampy undergrowth leading to the river. Through this for a mile he had to make his way very carefully, the danger of dis- covery by some black native being great, for his movements were not in a direct line towards the river, but parallel with it, toward the spot where the coveted canoe lay. At a certain point the fugitive had again to cross an open space, and to do so in the light might again have meant capture; so, being well hidden in the swampy grass, Guerin waited patiently for dark- ness. Only.an accident was likely to reveal his hiding-place, but there was always that possibility to be reckoned with, and it was a nerve-racking ordeal waiting for darkness. In any case, his position gave him much anxiety. Suppose he —

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THE ROBBERY IN THE RUE SCRIBE. 443 did reach the canoe and got well away down the Maroni River, he was not out of the wood by any means. He had no compass, knew nothing of the geography of the river, and was just as likely to run into some other prison island as not. Moreover, when they reached the river’s mouth they might be picked up by some French ship plying between France and French Guiana, in which case they would be sent back, while if they ran ashore on the Dutch side of the river, and fell into Dutch hands, they would certainly be turned over to the French prison authorities. Also, there were savages and negroes to be reckoned with; the river, again, was full of dangerous snags, and should the boat run into one of these and upset, there were plenty of sharks to give a good account of themselves. As Guerin lay in the undergrowth he thought of all these things, but in spite of the risks he was determined to go forward with his desperate enter- prise. At last he deemed it safe to make for the rendezvous. Through the intense darkness he stumbled onwards, liter- ally feeling his way, splash- ing and floundering through the swamps and tripping over unseen obstacles. Finally, utterly exhausted, he reached the spot where the canoe lay under the bushes over- hanging the murky river. His companions, having a much easier route to follow, were already there, anxiously awaiting him. A few whispered words, and the three intrepid fugitives pushed their canoe off and glided silently down the Maroni River. They had paddles, and the stream was with them, so very good head- way was made. There was still the chance that some black man had seen them and would give the alarm at the prison settle- ment ; and had there been a number of these natives about they would un- questionably have en- deavoured to capture the fleeing convicts to gain the reward. But Edward Guerin and his com- panions would never have been taken alive; they had made up their minds on that point. The men paddled throughout the night, con- stantly hearing the sound made by sharks’ fins cleaving the water—they were on the men’s track. At daybreak a halt was made in the tall reeds on the Dutch side of the river, the idea being to remain in concealment by day and paddle only by night. The three men dared not eat much of their scanty store, for there was no knowing where further supplies were to come from. Dosing uncomfortably at intervals, the half-sleep of hunted men, they remained all day in their hiding-place, suffering greatly from the sun-glare, which, reflected from the water, was a sore trial to their eyes. Toward nightfall the men constructed a rude sail from parts of their clothing, and with a paddle for a mast again set out down the shark-infested river. Hardly had the start been made, however, when “ue DELIBERATELY JUMPED INTO THE RIVER.”

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344 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. one of the Frenchmen, who had been complain- ing all day of his eyes, which had become terribly swollen from the glare of the sun, suddenly jumped up in the frail canoe, and placing his hands to his head cried out, in horror-filled tones, “My God! 1 am going blind.” Whether it was the dread of the thing, or the agonizing pain, which caused his swift action will never be known, but he groped for a moment about him, then staggered, and deliberately jumped into the river, with a heart- rending cry. Hardly had his companions realized what had happened ghan there was a sudden movement in the water, the triangular fin of a shark appeared alongside, and the hapless man was dragged down to his doom! Iozens of sharks, maddened by the taste of blood, surrounded the frail boat, their move- ments causing it to roll dangerously. By desperate efforts the horror-stricken survivors kept the canoe afloat and quickly paddled from the spot, greatly depressed by the death of their comrade. Resting by day and making slow progress by night, the two fugitives kept on for three more days. The prison clothes they had been wear- ing were by this time torn to tatters, their food was gone all but half-a-dozen hard biscuits, and there was only one long drink of water left in the small can. Guerin’s accomplice had shrunk to a mere shadow, while Guerin himself was burnt brown and looked a mere fever-racked * skeleton, with swollen, half-closed eyes. Guerin had now to do all the paddling him- self, his companion being entirely worn out— indeed, he could not lift himself from the bottom of the canoe. Here he lay muttering fiercely, insanity written in his glaring eyes. Guerin had to watch the poor fellow closely, lest in a sudden frenzy he should attack him. How much longer this nightmare voyage lasted Guerin himself could not tell. Paddling, resting, and paddling again, he worked his way down stream, until finally, absolutely exhausted, he shot into a projecting spur of land and, with a superhuman effort, managed to get himself and his companion on to the shore. Guerin dropped almost at the water’s edge, and sank into a deep sleep. When consciousness returned it was to see a new moon. He had lost count of the days of the month, but believed it to be about the twenty-eighth when they landed. His com- panion was in the throes of a terrible fever, moaning piteously. Guerin drank some water, and then, looking about him, found a few eatable berries. After attempting to feed the suffering Frenchman, he ate some himself, and was about to reconnoitre, when from the bush behind him there sprang a number of black natives! ‘They approached cautiously, and Guerin saw by their demeanour that they were inclined to be friendly. At this—for he had feared the worst—his pent-up feelings overcame him, and he cried like a child. ‘The blacks took the two men to their huts, gave them food and drink, and one of their medicine-men doctored the Frenchman with herbs. The blacks understood some French, and informed Guerin that some miles. distant were white men—Englishmen—who managed a plantation. Guerin had some money, part of which he gave the blacks, who, after some days —during which Guerin and his companion somewhat recovered their strength—took them inland toward the houses of the planters. ‘They proved to be Englishmen right enough, and no music ever sounded sweeter to Guerin than the voices speaking his own tongue, which Guerin heard when yet some distance off. The fugitives soon made friends with the planters. Whether the latter guessed their story or not, they asked no questions, but promised to help them to reach England. This promise was duly carried out, and some months later Edward Guerin and the man who had escaped with him landed in England. What became of the Frenchman is not known, but Guerin sailed to America, whence, after various experiences, he decided to return to England. Here it was his intention to go into some business and live quietly, but this was not to be, for he was soon after arrested by request of the French authorities, who asked for his extradition. Guerin remained many months in Brixton Prison, London, ere the judges decided that he was a British subject, which meant that so long as he remained in this country he could not be taken by the French police. Still Fate pursued him, for hardly had he been released when he was assailed and shot in a London thoroughfare by a man named Smith. The latter was arrested, with his female companion, a woman named Churchill, aéas ‘“ Chicago May,” the very woman who had served five years in a French prison for complicity in the offence for which Guerin had suffered imprison- ment. The two were arraigned at the New Bailey, Smith being sentenced to penal servitude for life and “Chicago May” to fifteen years. Guerin recovered from his wounds, which were not severe. At the moment of writing he is residing in London, and hopes to live the remainder of an adventurous life in peace. THE ENpb. abi

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A Sixty-Thousand-Mile Walk. THE ADVENTURES OF MARK ALL. By Yorick GRADELEY. His resolution fired by the harsh decree that a mechanic is “too old at forty-five,” Mark All, a London working man, aged seventy-two, set out in August, 1900, to walk sixty thousand miles in seven years, and demonstrate the fallacy of the dictum which had cost him his billet. The plucky old pedestrian accomplished his wonderful walk with six months to spare, traversing the United Kingdom and several Buropean countries, and incidentally meeting with adventures whith would have daunted many a younger man. This authoritative narrative is compiled from the veteran's own diary. ray RAMPING one New Year's Day in the Highlands, Mark’s route led through the Pass of Glencoe. If this is a valley of desolation in the summer-time, it is a veritable inferno in the depth of winter. The snow was falling fast and the wind was moaning and shrieking piteously. The old man strove to hasten on, but could not, for the blizzard, increasing in fury and in force, thrust him backward, and the falling snow cast a flaky pall before his eyes so that he could not see. Then, all at once, as he was marching slowly along, he found he was sinking, he knew not whither; it seemed as though the earth had opened up to swallow him. ‘There was snow all round and above him, and, though he fought desperately to extricate him- self, it closed inexorably upon him and he lost consciousness. : How long he remained embedded in the snowdrift he could not tell, but, waking at last from his stupor, he tried to move and coilld not. Directly above his head, as he looked around, he saw a funnel with a bore scarcely larger than a pin-hole, through which a ray of sunlight penetrated into his icy cavern. This tiny venti- lating shaft, pierced by his warm breath in the snow, had miraculously saved his life. “I felt very snug and warm,” he says, “ but more than a little cramped for room, and on coming to my senses I craved for a breath of fresh air, for I was nearly suffocated to death. Now, if I had been Alice in Wonderland I suppose I might have reduced myself to the size of a microbe and thus climbed up the funnel, which seemed to me to lead right up to the firmament, miles and miles away. As, however, I was only plain Mark All and still retained my normal size:1 had to abandon that simple plan. Making a mighty struggle, I found, to my intense relief, that the snow, which the sun had melted somewhat, gave way a bit. Forcing myself upward, by very slow degrees I managed to thrust my head through the funnel, and then, just like a Jack-in-the-box, I popped it right out. I tell you, that first deep breath of pure, crisp Vol. xx.—44, i ; mountain air was simply grand. A moment afterwards, however, my head spun round and round, and for the first time in my life I felt drunk. I cried aloud for help in a voice like a degenerate fog-horn, just a shade louder than a whisper. It was the very best I could muster at the time, or for days afterwards. To my inexpressible joy I saw two men approaching. Then I—well, I suppose I must have , fainted tight away.” This, as Mark afterwards: learnt, is what actually occurred. Very early on the morning after New Year’s Day, which in Scotland is observed as a public holiday, two quarrymen were wending their way towards the slate quarries at Ballachulish, at the head of a creek that branches off from Loch Linnhe, when they saw a head suddenly emerge from a snow-bank. So terrified were they by this unexpected apparition that they fled incontinently. Presently, however, common sense asserted itself, and they timidly returned to investigate. Finding that the old head which had terrified them was quite devoid of horns or any of the orthodox attributes of the Evil One—that, in fact, it was the head of a harmless workman like themselves buried in a snowdrift—they set to work with vigour, and very soon disinterred poor old Mark from his ice-bound tomb. Leaving Sunderland, the ancient traveller journeyed south, clinging to the Yorkshire coast, for he loved the bracing east winds that blew from the North Sea. Robin Hood’s Bay, with its wonderful rocks and cliffs, honeycombed with smugglers’ caves, had a strange fascination for Mark. He there- fore resolved to keep to the beach for a few miles southward. Two or three hours of scrambling over sharp pebbles, shifting sand, and rocks crowned with slippery seaweed fatigued the old man, so he retired into a cave and, reclining on a boulder that made a very comfortable bed, he gave him- self up to the luxury of “ forty winks.” But whatever forty winks reduced to Green- wich time may be, it is certain that he exceeded its limit, for he sailed away yight off to Dream-

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346 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. land. Mark woke with a start, to find that while he slept the sun had set, a bell was ring- ing solemnly on a buoy out in the bay, and, worst of all, the tide had risen and was rapidly filling the cave. The boulder whereon he lay had already become an islet, and would very soon vanish altogether beneath the flood. It seemed he was doomed to perish, caught like a rat in a trap. Mark could not swim, but leaping from his ‘boulder he waded knee-deep in water to the opening of the cave and shouted for succour. Not a sail, not a sign of life was to be seen, and the night was fast descending. Just then a big wave rolled in, and, gathering force as it advanced, broke at the portals of the cave and threw the old man backward. For the moment he was totally submerged, and thought that his end had come. And yet, though he was struggling in the very jaws of death, the venerable hero did not even now lose heart. He climbed into a narrow crevice as near the roof of the cave as possible, vainly hoping against hope that the waters would not rise so high. Presently, from afar, he heard what sounded like the voice of a man. Hold- ing on to a jutting spur of rock, Mark contrived for a moment to thrust his head out of the cave and shouted :— “Help! Help! For the love of Heaven!” Then he heard the voice again. It was very faint, seeming to descend from the summit of the lofty, unscalable cliff at whose base the cavern was located. Again Mark shouted, but this time no answer came. Could he have been mistaken? It might be that what he had fancied was an answering voice was but the mock- ing echo of his own! And the waters were still rising. They reached the last refuge of the unhappy man, so that he could no longer stretch to the opening of the cave. But what was that curious object dangling before the opening? Whence had it so suddenly come? Though it was only a few feet away, the darkness was now so dense that he could not make it out. Suddenly the voice from far above rang out once more—this time clear, distinct, and unmistakable. Help was at hand. God grant it might not be too late ! “Look slippy! Can ta reach it, lad?” came the cry. “Thank God!” cried the old man. “It’sa rope, with a noose at the end. Oh, if I can only reach it!” He stretched forth his hands, sprang forward —and missed it! He had touched the rope, “HE SPRANG FORWARD—AND MISSED IT h”

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A SIXTY-THOUSAND- MILE WALK. 347 but before he could obtain a grip it swung suddenly from his grasp. There went forth a wild cry of despair from above as Mark fell into the water, for the opening of the cave was now almost invisible; but instantaneously the rope was lowered again, and even as he sank he still instinctively struggled, and presently his hand closed convulsively upon the cord. The brave fisherman on the cliff had seen everything, and felt the jerk on the line. “Hold tight, lad!” he yelled. ‘ Whatever else tha does, don’t leave go o’ t’ rope.” And then, single-handed, he pulled and — pulled away, straining every muscle to his Herculean task, and in a few minutes Mark All, snatched once again from a terrible fate, sank exhausted, yet triumphant, into the arms of his preserver. One more adventure that befell Mark All occurred whilst he was journeying through sunny Spain. Mark’s sojourn in Spain was, on the whole, pleasant. The pity of it was that the bulldog who might have been his “ Sancho Panza” was no more. He would have rendered yeoman’s service on one occasion, at all events, when, wandering from the beaten track, “ Don Marco Quixote ” fell into bad company. He passed through Madrid on the day of the celebration of the Feast of San Lorenzo, which never fails to draw into the city a curious com- pany of pleasure-seekers, and, perhaps, mischief- seekers also. In that motley yet picturesque crowd there were many half-wild, half-naked, strangely-clad men and women from the moun- tain districts — peasants with low foreheads, round pudgy faces, full mouths, and snarling lips, exposing prominent, narrow, animal-like teeth. These were by no means typical of the pure-bred Spaniard, but Mark watched them with interest. One swarthy young woman with jet-black hair, more comely than the rest, was dancing the bolero. Her companion was a stalwart fellow, who looked more like a real brigand than anybody Mark had ever seen before—off the stage. Though dancing is not in his line he watched that bolero, and enjoyed it too, for he clapped his hands and cried “Encore !” The danseuse heard him. ‘“ Engleesh!” she muttered between her teeth, and her eyes flashed ; but, though the bystanders echoed Mark’s applause, she refused to dance again. Mark walked off, but, looking round, observed that now he had gone the Spanish senorita was dancing after all. “Ah, well, Mark All,” he said to himself, * it’s evident you’re not a lady’s man ; and, since you’ve managed to keep out of the clutches of the women for three-quarters of a century, you might just as well endeavour to do so for the remainder of your natural life.” That same evening he left Madrid and made his way towards Toledo. At nightfall he put up at a wayside fosada, proceeding on the following morning. Some time afterwards he was joined by a man and a woman, in whom, to his amazement, he recognised the dark-eyed girl whose dance had so pleased him at Madrid and her ferocious cavalier. They had followed him to the posada the night before either by accident or design, and now, with every appearance of friendliness, though with somewhat suspicious tenacity, they constituted themselves his travelling companions. When the trio had arrived at the cross-roads Mark seized the opportunity to shake them off, and politely bade them “adieu” in Spanish, or what he called Spanish. Their response to his civility was more vehe- ment than pleasant. A stiletto flashed in the sunlight, and suddenly the woman sprang upon him like a panther and stabbed him in the neck. Fortunately for him, the would-be assassin’s skill was inferior to her ferocity, and she only succeeded in inflicting a slight flesh wound. Still, as Mark puts it, “she meant well.” The man, a powerful young fellow, with the aid of his companion, blindfolded their victim, tied his hands behind his back, and led him away. Thus they travelled for quite a long distance, and when the bandage was removed from his eyes Mark found himself in the midst of what he assumed to be either a gipsy camp or a den of brigands—which, he is not quite clear. Here, in the mountains, he was kept a close prisoner, for what purpose he could not guess. Evidently believing that he was penniless, these strange hosts of his never attempted even to search him. He discovered, however (for, though his know- ledge of their tongue was very slight, some of them could speak a little English), that he had had the misfortune to incur the hatred of the dancing girl merely on account of his nationality. Having been deceived some years before by an English soldier, she had vowed to avenge her wrongs upon the first of his countrymen who should cross her path ; and poor old, unoffend- ing Mark All was fated to be that man. Whether her vengeance was now appeased or not, pity or contempt for the victim, combined with superstitious awe, inspired by what she regarded as a Divine interposition on his behalf, prevented any renewal of hostilities. It was she,

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348 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “THE WOMAN SPRANG UPON HIM LIKE A PANTHER.” in fact, who bound up the wound she herself had inflicted, and, though Mark naturally felt uneasy during his sojourn with them, his captors treated him with respect and kindness, and eventually released him. ‘To prevent the possibility of his ever tracing their lair or putting the authorities on their track, the brigands (if such they were) led him away—again blindfolded—and abandoned him by the wayside many miles distant. As, how- ever, they left him a basket of provisions as a farewell peace-offering he considers that he came out of his very romantic adventure “ fairly well considering.” But so long as Mark remained on the Continent the mere sight of a dancing girl was quite enough to induce him to show a clean pair of heels. He would rather, he says, watch the cake-walk on Hampstead Heath than any of your fancy foreign dances. It’s safer. On St. Valen- tine’s Day, 1907, Mark All walked into London town, having con- cluded his great sixty - thousand - mile walk. He was now seventy- eight and a half years of age, yet in six years anda half—six months less than the scheduled time— he had com. pleted his long, self-imposed jaunt. It was a very modest home - coming, and yet it was the consummation of a great achieve- ment. Mark can- not, indeed, claim to have proved conclusively that a man is not too old for work at forty-five, but he has certainly demonstrated beyond dispute that he need not be. He is a splendid living vindication of the natural life, for he has shown that pure fresh air is, after all, the greatest of elixirs. Though his work is over, he has not finished yet. To my amazement, he called upon me on the 2oth of March last, and informed me that he was just upon the point of starting for another tour. This time, he said, he intended to cover forty thousand miles, and thus complete a grand total of one hundred thousand miles before the end of 1910!

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Our Search for the “ Mission Gold.” By R. F. Simmons. The tragic history of a treasure - quest. The author writes: “The events herein narrated are true in every particular, and the expedition was known to many residents of both Tucson and Prescott, Arizona. All names of people and places are correct, and it is possible that some of the relatives and friends of my unfortunate companions may learn their fate for the first time from this narrative.” 1 HAVE been so often asked to tell the story of the ‘Mission Gold,” | and the awful details of my attempt to secure it have apparently been of so much interest to those who have heard it, that I have concluded to write the full narrative for the readers of THE WipE Wortp MAGAZINE. It was in the fall of 1895, and I had just left the McCabe Mine, a short distance out of Prescott, Arizona. I had a little over six hundred + dollars in hand, and ! was looking forward to taking life easily during the winter. My days I spent in wandering about on the hills, and my nights amongst the resorts of Prescott. Here one night, in the Palace Saloon, I saw a young man sitting at the rear whose face strangely attracted me. He was evidently half American and halt Mexican, but it was not his nationality that drew my attention; it was the obvious fact that he was not only very ill, but had been so for some time. Obeying an over- powering impulse, I took a seat beside him and abruptly informed him that he should be in bed instead of there. . He started, looked at me closely, and then, seeming to perceive that my motive was friendly, told me sadly that he was “flat broke” and believed he was dying. Life in the West had not tended to make me particularly tender-hearted, but for some reason or other I did all I could for him. If I had known what his acquaintance was to lead to— THE AUTHOR, MR. R. P. SIMMONS, THR ONLY MAN ALIVE TO: QUT DAY OUT OF THE BAND OF INTREPID EXPLORERS WHO SET OUT ON THE DISASTROUS QUEST OF THE From a Photograph. could I have looked six months into the future— I should have shunned him as I would a rattle- snake. As it was I helped him to the hotel, and, procuring for him a room adjoining my own, sent for a doctor. No sooner had I helped my new acquaintance to remove his clothes and got him into bed than the will-power that had held him up for so long relaxed, and: for threé weeks it was a fight for his life. The doctor soon arrived and found him unconscious. He cies said it was a thorough break-down of the whole system, and gave it as his opinion that the collapse was caused by some fearful and pro- longed over-exertion; he was very much surprised when I told him that the man had taken to his bed within the hour. The medico was very dubious about his re- covery, but held out some hopes from the fact that a constitution which had kept the poor fellow up so long might pull him through. For three weeks the doctor and I worked - night and day at that bedside, and at length efforts were re- warded ; at the end of that time, and not until then, our patient recovered consciousness. It was six weeks more before he was able to leave the room. Then, little by little, I learnt his story, but had it not been that he considered that he owed me his life he would never have told it. His name was Frank Montoya, and, as I had surmised, he was half Mexican and half American, though he did not carry his father’s last name. His life had been spent partly in each country, and until about six months ee ‘MISSION GOLD.”

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456 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. previously he had made his living as a miner and range-rider in Mexico. At that time he had heard of a buried treasure known as the “Mission Gold,” and had joined a poorly- equipped party of five who tried to secure it. - They had located the gold and had actually seen it; but after suffering untold hardships and dangers at the hands of hostile Indians had been forced to abandon it and flee for their lives. Montoya had been the only one to reach the United States alive, and had managed to make his way as far north as Prescott, where I found him. Then, in answer to my in- quiries, I heard for the first time in my life the romantic story of the “ Mission Guld.” In the early days of the settle- ment of Mexico by the Spaniards a body of monks and priests had boldly gone out into what is now the western part of the State of Sonora and established a mission among the Indians. There, by trading and other means, they secured most of the gold the ignorant savages had accumulated before the coming of the foreigners. The amount was supposed to be about two tons, representing a value of close on a million dollars. When Maximilian ascended his shaky throne it was decreed that all gold and jewels held by the Church were to be confiscated to the Crown, excepting only such valuables as were in the form of sacred emblems. When this fiat went forth the holy fathers hurriedly cast ~ their vast treasure into the form of rude crosses, mitres, chalices, candlesticks, and cups ; and so it remained. *Shortly after this the cruelty of the conquerors drove the Indians to revolt, and the mission fathers were either killed or driven from the Yaqui country—but not before they had con- trived to bury the whole of their treasure. It was popularly supposed to have been secreted under the stones of the altar, and a solemn curse pronounced upon the vandal hand that attempted its removal. The Yaquis had razed the mission buildings to the ground’ and tried to obliterate all traces of its existence. Fearing the curse, they had removed their village a short distance from the spot. The particular tribe concerned in this affair, it was said, was the wildest and most bloodthirsty section of all this unconquered race. MR. FRANK MONTOVA, WHO WAS PERSUADED TO MAKE HIS SECOND ATTEMPT TO SECURE THE GOLD, AND ACTED AS GUIDE TO MR. SIMMONS'S PARTY. From a Photograph. Many people in Arizona and Mexico had heard the story of the “ Mission Gold,” but by most it was considered a myth. So might I have done, under other circumstances, but now, having under my hand a man who claimed to know its location and to have actually set eyes upon it, you may imagine the fever the narrative created in my blood. . The first time I spoke to Montoya of the possibility of getting the treasure he took on in wild shape. He declared that he wished he had died before planting in me the wish to secure the gold, adding that not even the absolute cer- tainty of securing the whole of the buried hoard would tempt him to return to its neighbourhood again. For weeks I argued with him, assuring him that the failure of the first badly-managed attempt in no way prejudiced the chances of a second. I spoke of the advantages of proper provisioning for the trip, and I even stooped so low as to appeal to his gratitude. The poor fellow had got the idea firmly fixed in his mind that his life was mine, to do with as I pleased; and after very reluc- tantly making a map for me of the country to be travelled through, and showing the location of the gold, he declared that if there was no possible way of pre- venting me from going he would himself accompany me, though sorely against his will. It was very easy to see that he con- sidered he was going to his death. He was able to walk about by the time I got this promise out of him, so that I lost no time in preparing for the trip. My work amongst the mines had made me acquainted with many venturesome, fearless young fellows, to whom most daring adventures would seem but fun; but in none of the five men whom I ultimately selected was there lack- ing a due appreciation of the gravity of the enterprise. Ali had listened to Montoya’s story personally, and were as fine a lot of young fellows as could be found in Arizona. Their names were: Charlie Baird, six feet two and fashioned like an athlete, just past his twenty- fourth year ; George Watson, another six-footer, but heavier than Baird, slow of movement, but as strong as a bull; Fred: Powell, a stalwart, good-natured dare-devil, five feet eight in height and as dark-complexioned as a Mexican ; Allan eae |

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OUR SEARCH FOR THE Seymour, a young miner with whom I had worked at the McCabe ; and Curtis Chalk, an expert rifle and revolver shot of considerable local reputation. I was the baby of the party, being but five feet six in height and weighing less than a hundred and fifty pounds; but I was very wiry and of considerable endurance. Not one of our party was over thirty, though Montoya, our guide, was the oldest, being then within a few days of his thirtieth anniversary. All of us were sworn to secrecy—a very necessary proceeding in this wild, unsettled country, where the mention of gold sets men’s blood aflame. Quietly we proceeded from Prescott to Tucson. Here we’ intended to outfit, so we made our camp some five miles out of town, and conveyed our supplies there in small, unob- trusive parcels. Each of us, with the exception of Montoya, had contributed three hundred dollars as his share of the expenses of the expedition, so that we had plenty of money. We purchased sixteen burros (donkeys) and their pack-saddles, arms and ammunition in abundance, provisions, can- teens, water-tins, and everything that our com- bined experience could suggest. As we were to go two hundred and eighty miles inland, and as Montoya assured us that there were but three places along. the route where we could get water, our plan was to cal- culate upon four days’ journey between water and make provision for our return trip on the inward journey. At the end of every second day’s march from water—or at those camps midway between water—we were to bury one burro load (twenty zallons of water), a small quantity of provisions, and—this on my advice against the rest—one rifle, two revolvers, and some ammunition. were to bury only provisions. Everything was to be very carefully “cached,” and the water to be hermetically sealed to preserve it. Every contingency we could think of was allowed for, and early on the morning of the 2nd of December we made our start. Montoya and I walked ahead. Behind us came a string of six burros—-the first lightly packed, so that Montoya could ride if unable to keep the pace. Next came Baird and Powell, and behind them five burros, then Watson and the last five burros, and, bringing up the rear, Seymour and Chalk. The trail led due south and the walking was not bad, so we made good time, and by the end of the second day, with a plainsman’s idea of distance, we figured that we had travelled fifty miles. Here we made our first cache, and, though some of the others objected, “I still At camps beside water we ~ “MISSION GOLD.” 351 insisted on the burying of the rifle and revolvers. Early in the afternoon of the fourth day we had made about ninety miles. Here was our first water. It was not a very liberal supply, so we were compelled to remain until morning in order to fill our canteens and five-gallon tins. We made here, as arranged, only a cache of provisions. Heartened by our splendid progress, the boys were becoming optimistic. On resuming our journey we found that we had no regular trail to follow, and were at times forced to cut a way through the manginita and grease wood ; the going was consequently much slower, and our sixth camp was only about thirty-four miles from water. Here we lost our first burro; it died in the night from some cause unknown. The farther we went now the rougher became the road, and our camps were about seventeen miles apart; our caches, therefore, were about thirty-four miles between, and we were com- pelled to travel well into the eighth night in order to reach water. We were now a little over half-way, being, as we figured, about one hundred and sixty miles from ‘Tucson. Up to this time we had not seen a single Indian. At this spring we camped all the ninth day in order to give the burros a chance to feed and rest, as so far most of their food had been obtained from the scrub oak and_ other vegetation met with in camp, or snatched at in passing. On the morning of the tenth day we started early, and would have made a record march, as we struck a smooth tract of malapi, were it not for the fact that in the distance we caught sight of a moving band of Indians, and were com- pelled to halt in an arroyo (gully) for an hour or two before it was safe to proceed. As it was we made twenty-five miles ; so that, though we did not do quite so well the next day, we made our water cache forty-six miles from water. This was considered very good, as we judged it was about forty miles to the next spring. The morning of the twelfth day we were all in good spirits, but it was to be a day of disaster. We had gone but a couple of miles when one of the burros fell. It was apparent the poor beast was dying, so we removed its pack to one of the unloaded ones and resumed cur march. A few miles farther, and another broke its leg; again we removed the pack and shot the unfortunate creature. Then, at our midday rest, Seymour was tak n violently ill. We rigged a stretcher for him between two of the burros and proceeded. This day we made but twenty miles. Seymour was very ill when

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352 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. we camped, and, though we made him as com- fortable as possible, before midnight he began to rav: in delirium. We therefore started early again in order to reach the spring as soon as possible. ‘The going was difficult, as Watson and I had to walk beside Seymour's litter to keep him in it; still we made camp at water about four in the afternoon. We had very few medicines in the party, and so could do but little for our poor companion. Just bi fore sunset he became conscious again, and told us he was going. Less than an hour after that he died. We were now only about sixty miles from the golden cache, so we concluded to stop here all the next day. We buried Seymour early in the morning, but did not mark his grave, lest prowling Indians should desecrate it. Our friend’s untimely death depressed us greatly; we were very quiet and thoughtful all day. ‘There was no grumbling, -however, though Montoya acted like a man who had seen his own grave dug. On the fifteenth day we started at sunrise and made good time ; but about three in the afternoon we burst, without warning, upon four Indians camped in a small arroyo. In to their feet and seized their guns ; we did the same. Crack! went a rifle, and Montoya and I opened fire at once. Two Indians fell ; the other two fired in re- turn as Baird and Watson came running up. Watson dropped at once, but three shots from Montoya and me brought down another of the savages. Chalk fired from the rear and stopped the fourth, but he was not killed, and managed to put a bullet in Baird’s arm as he came up. Another shot from Chalk, however, silenced him. The fight was over almost as socn as it had begun. Montoya and I crept to the highest surrounding points and watched for an hour to see if there were any other Indians within hearing distance of the shooting. While we were thus engaged the others buried Watson—who had been instantly killed—and the Indians. We did not bury the Indians for humanity’s sake, but for our own: safety, as the finding of their bodies would immediately apprise the tribe of the fact that there were enemies in the vicinity. MR. GEURGE WATSON, WHO WAS KILLED IN THE FIRST FIGHT BETWEEN THE INDIANS AND THE GOLD-SEEKERS. From a Photograph. an instant they sprang _ Baird’s wound was nothing but a scratch, so we continued on our way for another two hours. Next morning we again started early and made good headway, but were often compelled to halt and hide on account of seeing Indians in the distance. We also had to stop quite often to bury a burro, as no fewer than four died this day of exhaustion. Luckily we had now but few provisions to carry, so they were no great loss, except as gold-sarriers on the return trip. We camped that night without a fire—in fact, there were no further fires made on the trip, owing to the danger of their being seen by the Indians. During the night another burro died, so that but half of our original herd remained. We were now constantly crossing or following Indian trails, and so had adopted the plan of walking ahead of the burros, in the hope that they would obliterate our tracks. We also removed all trace of our camps, as if these were seen by the Indians their meaning would be easily understood. Doggedly we pushed on, and by two in the afternoon Montoya told us we were within reach of the gold. We camped under a deep bluff on the bank of a tiny stream, and Montoya described the position. The mesa below which we were camped was about one mile wide, and on this was the site of the ancient mission. By a small creek on the other side of it was the Yaqui village, so that we were no more than a mile and a quarter from it. The gold was under heavy flat stones that were covered with dirt, and was only about fifteen hundred feet in a direct line from our camp. We decided to wait until after dark, burrow under the stones without removing them, take as much of the gold as we could carry, and close the opening, leaving it as nearly as possible in the same condition as before. Once or twice before nightfall Indians came so close to us that we did not see how we could avoid being discovered. Still, all went well, and at eight o’clock, when it became dark, we climbed the bluff. All of us were trembling with suppressed excitement, but Montoya had no trouble in locating the exact spot he was looking for. Soon our spades touched the stones ; the edge was located, and like demons we all worked until the gold was uncovered. Then the boys became almost wild; it was extremely difficult to restrain them from making a noise, but harder yet was it to prevent them from casting away our precious food and water and overloading all the burros with gold. After fierce argument and barely avoiding a resort to blows, Montoya and I succeeded in getting them to place about two hundred pounds on each of six of the burros, leaving .

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OUR SEARCH FOR THE “MISSION GOLD.” 353 “THE BOYS BECAME ALMOST WILD," the other two to carry water and provisions. All traces of our work were erased as well as possible, though most of our companions strongly resented leaving by far the greater part of the treasure behind. Then, about two in the morning—after burying our spades and other articles that we had decided to leave—with Montoya in the lead and each of the rest of us with two burros, we started at our speediest pace to get out of the country. Rapidly we pushed on, scarcely stopping at daybreak for a bite to eat. All through that day we went ahead, and at nightfall were a good forty miles from the mission. Strange to say, none of our burros collapsed during that fearful Vol. xx.—48. march, though, had we not been crazed with the gold-fever, we should have pitied the poor beasts—they were almost too tired to eat. We were late in starting the next morning, for the animals had to have some chance to recuperate, and it was a miserable and emaci- ated band of burros that we loaded at last. We took things easy until midday, but while eating a small lunch we thought we could see a consider- able band of Indians in pursuit. Then there was packing in haste, for we knew, if this was true, our only hope was to reach the water-hole, which was located in the bottom of an other- wise dry creek, with precipitous banks about a hundred and fifty feet high,

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484 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. It was not long before we knew we were not mistaken about the Indians, but it was late in the afternoon before they got very close to us. Then we coutd see that there must be about seventy-five of them. All the burros were tied together and Montoya went ahead with them, while the rest of us spread out to hold our pur- suers in check as much as we could. It was getting dark before they got within range of us, and there were but few shots exchanged before it got too dark to see. We closed up nearer to Montoya and found one burro lying dead in the trail, with the gold still packed upon its back ; he had simply cut it loose from the string and proceeded. Against my advice the boys persisted in dividing up the load and taking the gold along with us, so that it was four weary and anxious adventurers who arrived at the water- hole after eight that night. As may be imagined, there was but little sleep for any of us, but though we kept good watch no sign or sound of an. Indian was vouchsafed to us until daybreak. Then the reason for their seeming inaction was apparent. Their scouts had evidently located our exact position, and during the night they had entirely surrounded us! ‘They were before and behind us in the canyon, and on both sides above us on the bluffs. Our only shelter consisted of some shallow caves under the left bank, and here we retired with the gold and provisions. These caves or hollows were not large enough to shelter more than one or two in each, I had one to myself, Powell and Baird were in another, Chalk had one to himself, and Montoya had taken one of the burros with him into the largest and tethered it to a huge golden cross that had formed its entire load. He had also all of the grain with him and most of the water. The poor fellow must have seen how useful this burro was to be during the next two days. As soon as day broke we saw that the intention of the Indians was that none of the gold should be taken away. The six burros grazing in the open were shot down in as many minutes ; then the savages turned their attention to us, and a furious band charged down the canyon, shooting into the caves as they raced by. We replied with telling effect. Those upon the opposite bluff kept up a steady firing, while those above us loosened large masses of earth and rocks to come tumbling down near us. After the lapse of about an hour the band in the canyon charged by again, in the opposite direction. This performance was re;eated every hour or so during that interminable day. Though we could not see each other, we called across at intervals, It was after their fourth charge that Montoya failed to respond. At great risk Chalk crawled across and found him quite dead. He had been shot through the eye. We managed about noon to divide the pro- visions and water, and were beginning to have some hope that the Indians were getting dis- couraged, as we could count twelve of their. “HE HAD BEEN SHOT THROUGH THE EYE.”

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OUR SEARCH FOR THE “MISSION GOLD.” 385 dead lying in the canyon, with a probability of some more dead or injured on the opposite bluff. We were quickly disappointed, however, for they soon made another charge. It was after this that Powell told us that Baird was injured and dying; he had been shot twice, once in the stomach and once in the left lung. Then I lost hope, though I still put in my time between repelling attacks and answering the fire fromthe opposite bluff in burying the gold that was with me in the cave — about four hundred pounds in weight. Chalk also buried what was in his cave — about two hundred pounds—but that in Powell’s cave and that with Montoya remained unburied. We had no further mishaps before dark, except that poor Baird died about five o’clock. All firing ceased at dark, and we three survivors came together in the cave where Montoya lay dead. Chalk had noticed a pre- carious-looking trail ascending the far bluff, and believed it possible to use it, so we decided to tackle it immediately. None of us seemed to be willing to go without some of the gold, so we packed about one hundred and fifty pounds upon our only remaining burro, and each took about ten pounds on his person besides his canteen. We took no water for the burro and very few of our possessions. Quietly we approached the place where we believed the trail to be, and after some trouble found it. It ran along the face of the bluff, ascending but little; so that I believe when we emerged upon the bluff we were at least a thousand yards beyond any of the Indians. I was much surprised to find it unguarded, and could only explain it by supposing either that the savages were unaware of its existence, or had not expected us to move so soon after dark. At any rate, we were out and past them, so, making the best time we could, we pushed on until dawn. It was just about daylight that a fresh mis- fortune befell us. I sprained my ankle, and there was nothing for it but to unload the gold from the burro, bury it, and to let me take its place. We had now entered some thickets of scrub oak and manginita, but we kept on until about noon, when, worn out and exhausted, we camped, and all slept until early the next morning. MR. CHARLES RAIRDS WHO WAS SHOT DURING THE ATTACK ON THE CANYON CAVES. From a Photograph. All day long we proceeded, and though we came upon our cache we did not stop except to remove our water and provisions. We let the burro drink its fill, and filled our canteens ; then, destroying all that we could not take with us, we made several miles more before camping for the night. We now felt fairly secure, as we had seen no Indians since leaving the creek ; nevertheless, we took turns in watching. Before daybreak we were again on the road. About nine o'clock, to our dismay, we saw ten or twelve Indians following us, though as yet they were several miles behind. We had scarcely expected this, as it was just as hard for them to procure provisions and water as it was for us, and they had not the advantage of our caches. We could only surmise that this small party had taken all the food the large band could spare, and that they had pushed on after us while the others had returned. We decided that, as we had long since discarded shoes for moccasins, they were only able to trail us by the burro, so it was quickly decided to abandon it. Chalk was to leave first, branching off our route to the right, and proceed at right angles to the trail for some distance. Powell was to go next and move to the left. I was to go on a mile or two farther, and then, turning the burro . loose, to proceed to either side as I saw fit. We were all to meet at the spring, some twenty- eight or thirty miles ahead. This plan was followed out, and it was late in the evening before the Indians were close upon me. My ankle was very painful, and it was as much from necessity as choice that I dropped to my hands and knees. The Indians had by this time discovered the abandoned burro, and they were spread out fan-shaped, beating the bushes as they advanced. I realized that it was impossible to keep ahead of them or outflank them, so I hid in a long line of bushes along which a solitary Indian was advancing. Here I waited, knife in hand, determined to try to silence him before he could give the alarm to his companions. The savage advanced to within twenty feet of me, and I was nerving myself to spring upon him when he noticed a very heavy clump of bushes about thirty yards to the right, and went

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356 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. over to investigate it. I quickly put the line of brush between us, and crawled back to the part he had already passed. It was well I did so, for he quickly returned and went ahead with his search. I was now behind the Indians, and it was only necessary to wait a short time for them to outstrip me, and then I could proceed with very little caution. I was, however, compelled to go a great part of the way on my hands and knees, as my injured ankle got worse. Until late in the night I travelled, and early in the morning I was again on my way. Shortly before midday I saw the Indians returning, spread out wider than before. I discovered afterwards that they had found our cache at the spring, and, leaving four men there to guard it, had returned, as they then knew that they must be ahead of us. I had found it so difficult to get along with my crippled ankle that I had thrown away my rifle and revolvers, and had now nothing but my canteen, a knife, and about three pounds of gold. I did not feel in condition to tackle a fully-armed Indian with my knife, and so resolved to outwit them again if possible. I crawled to a large clump of bushes and circled it one way as the nearest savage went the other. It was a delicate and nerve-trying business, but, fortunately for me, it was success- ful. While so engaged I was stung on the right hand by a scorpion, and the wound began to swell badly after I resumed my route. It was not at the end of the second day, but nearer the end of the third, that I arrived near the spring. I should have blundered right into the ambush set for us if it had not been that Chalk was watching for me. He told me chat Powell had circled around the spring and gone on, determined to try and reach the water cache two days’ journey farther ahead. Powell was a great consumer of water, and Chalk had shared what he had left with him-— about two quarts. As for myself, I never did drink much, and still had nearly a gallon left. 1 divided this with Chalk, and, circling the spring, we started together to try and reach the cache. Chalk would have tried to get in close and shoot down the four Indians left on watch at the spring; but he had not only like me thrown away his rifle and revolvers, but had atso discarded his knife and all the gold he had been carrying. The going was very slow, as I could not stand on my foot for more than a mile at a time, and I could not crawl as fast as I should have on account of my swollen hand. We reckoned that at our rate of progress we would not be able to make the cache in less than four days. This would not do, for our water would give out long before that timc. "I tried to induce Chalk to leave me, as he could travel much faster alone. - This, however, he would not do, and, instead, carried me on his shoulders part of the time. The third night after passing the spring our last drop of water was gone ; but on the morning of the fourth day my hand and ankle were both very much better. We made better progress, therefore, and reached the cache before noon. Here we stood and looked at each other in blank dismay. Someone, evidently Powell, had uncovered the cache. The provisions, arms, and ammunition were scattered about untouched, but a great hole had been torn in each of the five-gallon tins and every drop of the precious water was gone! “Tt is the water madness,” said Chalk, at last, “it must be. Powell has become crazed through thirst. He is now, poor fellow, worse off than we are.” Looking more closely, it seemed to me that the ground was impervious to water, and I was right, for, scooping out a hole below where the broken cans lay, 1 had the pleasure of seeing its bottom slowly fill with water. This gave us a good drink each and about two quarts to carry in one of the canteens. We decided to throw away the other canteen, take one of the revolvers, and start immediately, for if either of us was ever going to reach the spring we must travel every moment we were able. Our water was gone before noon next day, and from that time our sufferings were awful. Chalk handed me the revolver and begged me to shoot him if he showed any signs of becoming insane, as poor Powell must have done. Anyone who has not been in this terrible country can hardly realize the perils from thirst. The air is so dry that it absorbs every particle of moisture from the skin ; and—unlike the sea- coast, where the pores absorb a certain quantity of moisture, and men have lived for three and four days without water—there are many instances in this country where men have died in attempting to walk twenty miles without carrying water with them. Late that night we were attacked by what we thought at first was some wild beast. Butit was poor Powell, and he still had his revolver, though he had nothing else, not even his clothes. He was raving mad, and we were unable in any way to make him realize who we were, or that we meant him no harm. He discharged his revolver at us three times, and then rushed upon us in a perfect frenzy of maniacal rage. It was useless to attempt to struggle with him—his madness gave him the strength of ten—and I was at last ~~

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OUR SEARCH FOR THE “MISSION compelled, sorely against my will, to shoot him down, in order to save the lives of myself and Chalk. We did not stop to bury him, but struggled on again as fast as our waning strength would allow. Several times during the day Chalk fell, and it was only by much urging, and finally by abuse, that I was able to get him upon his feet again. GOLD.” 357 again Chalk was thoroughly ill, and, though he did not seem to crave so much for the water in the canteen, he kept getting steadily worse. We reached Tucson in five days, most of the last of which I carried Chalk pickaback upon my shoulders. Here I sold the three pounds of gold I had carried through all our misfortunes, and took my poor companion to the hospital. “1 WAS AT LAST CUMPKLLED, SORELY AGAINST MY WILL, TO SHOOT HIM DOWN. At last he succumbed entirely, and nothing I could do would make him try again. I had now got over my first great longing for water and scarcely felt the need of it. I extracted a promise from Chalk that he would not shoot himself until the next morning at least, and then, leaving the revolver with him, took the canteen and went on, promising to return with water if I lived. Five miles farther on I reached the spring, but how I ever covered that five miles I shall never know. I have an impression that part of the way I was on my hands and knees again, but cannot say for certain. I do know that I reached it and drank. I did not stop for food, but filled the canteen and started back at once. I came upon Chalk before midnight, and fed him with water in swallows; at two o’clock we started together for the spring again, and reached it shortly after daybreak. Here we stayed for three days—eating, drink- ing, and sleeping. When at last we started on There, just five days later, he died in my arms. The doctor said it was one of the most complete cases of breakdown from over-exertion he had ever seen. I stayed in Tucson ten days more and then took the train north and east. The death of Curtis Chalk, to my knowledge, made the fifteenth out of sixteen men who had attempted to secure the treasure. These sixteen comprised - three separate parties — one of five, of which no one ever returned ; the second a party of five, from which Montoya—the only survivor—had just returned when I met him; the third was my own party of seven, of which I am the only survivor. I have asked the Editor to withhold my present address from inquirers, as I am even now too often importuned to head another expedition with the same object in view. I have had my try for the “ Mission Gold,” and no part or all of it would tempt me to make another endeavour to secure it.

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A PROCESSION OF GIANTS. By ERNestT WARDWELL. At Douai, in Flanders, there has resided for the last five centuries a family of giants, the father of which is some twenty-two feet high and the “baby” eight feet! reader’s enlightenment, that these monsters are dummy figures. We hasten to add, for the This article gives an interesting account of their history and the annual procession in which they figure so prominently. HE morning was sultry, and Francois was mightily athirst. For several hours, with half- a-dozen colleagues, he had been acting as cicerone to an aged and respectable family through the narrow streets of Douai, in France, and had found the job an arduous one. The family had been paying a series of calls, and at times proved a little troublesome. They seemed to show no _ intelligence. They were a wooden-headed lot, to be sure, and their movements were annoyingly deliberate. If they did a mile in three hours it was a good morn- ing’s work. Yet there were compen- sating advantages to the toil. Douai was well fortified with brasseries. It was Frangois’s habit, when he approached one of these enlightened retreats, to drop his ele- phantine party near the kerb, and, after a rapid glance to see that all was right, make a bee-line for the interior, where he stayed an unconscion- able time. It was unceremonious and not wholly dignified, yet done with praise- worthy purpose. Francois would emerge with a pleasing smile, his pocket would be weighty with copper coins col- lected on behalf : is of the aged “rma. From a) GRANDFATHER,” AS HE IS POPULARLY CALLED, THF HEAD OF THE GIANT FAMILY, family, and with a cheery “ Hola!” the incongruous group would proceed along the streets. The old man’s name was Gayant Frangois always found him looking into the second storey window. He was a big man, this aged gentleman. He was twenty-two feet high, and he had been in existence certainly for five centuries. He had been created contrary to all principles of sex and dress, for, although his head was the head of a nobleman, his costume, for half of him at least, was that of awoman. He worea balloon-like petticoat which fell to the ground gracefully for nearly a dozen feet, and he was so unwieldy that he had to be helped along by six stalwart fellows, who per- spired at every pore. Not less noble, but more beautiful, was Madame, his wife, the goodly Marie Cagenon, who, in gown of lovely brocade and a stomacher and _far- thingale that might have made the great Elizabeth enyious, bore a_ splendid pride in her other- wise inexpressive face. She was a veritable Ama- zon, being quite twenty feet in height. The other members of this sizable group were the three children of the noble pair—big Jacquot, who wore the cos- tume.vof a [ Photograph. troubadour; | |

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A PROCESSION Mile. Filon, in a simple gown of the Renais- sance period; and Mlle. Thérése, the baby of the family, who was certainly eight feet high. Little Binbin, as Thérése is called, wore a round cap and a white pinafore. She was a dainty creature, and her appearance in the streets sent the children wild with delight. Fathers and mothers would raise their own babies more than shoulder high to kiss her, or, if father or mother was not gifted by Nature with normal OF GIANTS. 380 insist that Gayant is identical with St. Maurand, the patron of Douai, but ifyou were to suggest with surprise that saints were not men of family he would shrug his shoulders and turn away. If, in your superior knowledge, you pointed out a few anachronisms in dress, he would smile first and then show impatience. It is really none of I'rangois’s business to go into such abstruse subjects. Frangois’s father, and his father before him, were quite satisfied with MME. GAYANT ON HER WAY TO JOIN THE PROCESSION, From a Photo. by Lauverjat. stature, little Binbin would stoop to kiss the babies, Frangois himself was a dullard if you in- quired into the history of this celebrated family. He merely knew that it was the family of Gayant, the renowned giant of Douai, whose history, for more years than one accurately knows, has been associated with the history of the city. He might tell you that some intelli- gent persons, mainly connected with the Church, Gayant as a beautiful representation of a note- worthy hero of the past, and what has been good enough for five centuries is surely good enough for you. , : So for the moment we need trouble little about the truth, or untruth, of it. We must move onward with the crowd. It is a tortuous defile. The little passages through which the procession wends its way, with their stucco buildings rising stiffy up on each side, make you

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360 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. think of the canyons of the West, into which the sunlight finds its way slowly and with difficulty. Every window is filled with heads, waving handkerchiefs, and bunting to welcome the giants, while men with small tin cups darthitherand thither collecting pennies handed or tossed to them by the throng. There is a little peep- hole in the dress of each of the giants, through which the head of one of the porters often pops, when the figures are at rest. This peep- hole serves a double purpose. It gives the swarthy burden- bearers a breath of fresh air, and the sight of them makes the crowd laugh. So they move on and on, stopping here for a drink and there for a chat with some greybeard of eighty, who tells you and the others in a cracked voice that he remembers the Gayant of ’48, and so forth and From a) THE CHILDKEN ARE ALWAYS VASTLY IN‘ERESTED IN THE PROCESSION, SUME OF THE PORTERS WHO CARRY THE FIGURES. From a Photograph. so forth, always re- minding his hearers that the present one is not up to that. Alas! these octoge- narians; they are not wholly popular with the youth of the day. What can be better, they ask, than the glorious creature be- fore them, standing aloft with sword and breastplate in a truly martial pride ? This was thesecond day of the great fes- tival of Gayant, which is held for three days at Douai, in France, in July of every year. The first day of the festival is Sunday, when the giants are brought forth at early morn from small wooden sheds in back streets and carried to the Esplanade, thence to start, about three o’clock, in a gay procession through the main streets. Apart from the pre- sence of the giants, this procession possesses few points of difference from those so common on the Continent on /é/e-days. There is the same

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From a) A PROCESSION JACQUOT, FILON, AND THE: band of music playing spirited tunes, the same black-clothed municipal dignitaries, the same corps of sapeurs pom- Piers or firemen, and the same absence of the clergy. The Church has little use for these secular demonstrations, while the more the Church condemns the more the people seem to demand. They themselves would cut off their right hands sooner than part from these traditions of the past. A few decorated cars figure in the pro- cession, representing such well-known sub- jects as Gambrinus and his Court and the Temple of Orpheus, peopled, under the direction of prominent citizens, by various local societies, musicians, cyclists, gymnasts, and political bodies. Vol. xx.—48, ONE OF THR ALLEGORICAL OF GIANTS, — 361 The sombre dignity of such a corttge is softened by the wild cavorting of the hobby- IN THE From a Photograph. horses, who frisk up and down the line of the procession with a joyous verve, in awkward imitation of the prancing and kicking of real horses. The crowd shows unbounded | satisfac- tion. In olden times, when people stood nearer to the golden age of indefinite legend, these hobby- horses were more numerous than they are at present, when one or two only satisfy the demand for clownish doings. What memories of a boisterous past arise when we gaze upon one of these puppets, half man, half beast, clothed in his motley of gay colour, with his cap and bells ! Thus in part passes an exciting Sunday, which ends with an

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fn 362 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THE HORBY-HORSK, WHICH INTRODUCES AN ELEMENT OF FUN INTO THE PROCEEDINGS. rom a Photo. by Baron illuminated procession in the evening and the distribution of prizes at eleven o'clock for the best-decorated car of the day. The crowds go to bed, humming the Chanson de Gayant, which the band has been playing throughout the day. It invites you to witness the grand procession, and proceeds not only to tell you that this particular procession is prettier and gayer than that of Valenciennes or Tournai, but also—in a dozen verses — to expatiate upon the re- dounding merits of Gayant and the various members of his family. The worst that can be said of this infectious melody is that it disturbs your sleep and makes you unfit for the gaieties of Monday. If you are unable to witness the formal procession you lose little by being in the town on Monday or ‘Tuesday. On those days the giants, no longer fettered by formality, ven- ture forth into parts of Douai not on the main route of Sunday’s march. Opportunity is now given to you to see how close in touch is Gayant with the populace. The old folks, deaf or chair-ridden, are yet live enough to catch the first few notes of the nearing melody, and move a little closer to the window to see if little Binbin is prettier than yesteryear. Potard, the épicier, leaves his customer, and fills the door of his MME, GAYANT AND HER CHILDKRN PAYING A ROUND OF VISITS, From a Photograph.

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shop togive Mme. Gayant a courtly greeting. You can also hear the clatter of sabots on the stairs as the little ones in their blue blouses and black belts rush to the street to mingle with the crowd. Tops are thrown away and “diabolo” forgotten when the giants enter these congested quarters with their noble tread. When the men get tired of bearing the heavier giants, they sometimes leave them near the main thorough- fares, and proceed to the outlying parts with the smaller figures, these being much easier to carry. Thus, perhaps, is explained the popularity of Binbin, who, made of wicker and of smaller A PROCESSION OF GIANTS. “LITTLE BINBIN BOWS TO THE VOUNGSTE! From a Photo, by Lauveryat, 363 stature, is borne with ease by one man. She passes from house to house, one of her atten- dants knocking on the door. When it is opened Binbin makes a deep bow, for which the atten- dant gets a sou or two. The money collected must at the end of the day amount to a goodly sum, but where it goes td one does not care to ask. It was at sundown on this lengthy Monday that I passed Francois on his way home, having put his Gargantuan party to rest. They were to be trotted forth on the morrow to visit _ still neglected parts of the city, after which the Festival of Gayant would be over for the year. AN UNGALLANT ACT—THE FATIGUED PORTERS LEAVE THE 1.ADY OUTSIDE WHILE THEY REFRESH THEMSFLVFS AT AN INN. From a Photograph.

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364 Tired though he was, Francois remembered me. Business purposes, you may guess, had urged me to place innumerable pennies in the little tin boxes. ‘Ah, monsieur!” he cried, “it was you who wished to know more of Gayant. I wi'l take you, then, to a gentleman who knows.” Comfortably installed in a neighbouring restaurant, behind a well-thumbed copy of L’'Echo Douatsten, sat a gentleman in spectacles. He was a greybeard, and may have been one of those who felt the festival a bore, but of this he ave no sign. When Frangois introduced me nee began an hour of talk, during which facts flowed free and fast. “It’s no use deceiving you,” said the old gentleman ; “we do not actually know who Gayant is. We don’t even know how he got his name. It is a matter of conjecture. Very likely the name is a corruption of the Spanish gigante. The Spaniards, you know, are very fond of these colossal figures, and the custom of carrying them in procession may have been grafted upon Flanders in the days of Spanish power. Perhaps before this period Gayant had figured in the town as a representation of our illustrious saint. But he certainly changed his character when Charles V. ruled Flanders. “What we do know for fact is that the big figure you have seen upon the streets has had a very chequered career. The procession in which he marched used to be a religious one, but the ceremonial became secularized and the Church was shocked. ‘The clergy suppressed it for a time about 1770, but the people refused to stand it. At the time of the French Revolu- ON THE LEFT IS THE OME THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. tion the giants again disappeared, but in 1801 they again came upon the scene. The peasantry went wild with delight on the day of the pro- cession, for they had come from all parts of the country to witness Gayant’s resurrection. ‘There was never a day like it in Douai.” The old gentleman sipped his beer. “1 have heard them tell,” he went on, “how funny the giants looked. In honour of the time they had put on a new set of clothes. It was a tribute to existing modes of thought, but the people were quite content. Twenty years later a most terrible accident happened. ‘Grandfather,’ as they call Gayant, was getting very old, and Ats head fell off! The general reparation of the family was now placed in the hands of a local professor of design, and an honest attempt was made to dress the giants in the clothes of the era of their probable creation. These, except for slight changes, are the clothes in which you saw them to-day. ‘The material is often renewed, and the family always wears brilliant colours.” The people of Douai are proud of their giants, which have more than a local celebrity. Some years ago they were sent to Brussels to take part in a grand proces- sion in which all the giants of Flanders— there are dozens of them —-appeared, and were received with great éc/av. The real Fleming will travel many miles to witness a ‘Concours des Géants,” but he would have to go far to find a pleasanter or more engaging family than that which Grand- father has gathered round him during five centuries in the narrow confines of Douai. OF SOME OF THE GIANTS—“ LITTLE BINBIN” Is SEEN RETURNING AFTER A STRENUOUS DAY. From a Photo. by Lauverjat.

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Caught by a Cloud -Burst. By D. W. O. Facan, oF Mancapal, WHANGAREI, NEW ZEALAND. A thrilling episode of business pioneering in the back-blocks of New Zealand. The story is told in OR a long time our firm, which consists of my two brothers and | myself, had had it in mind to erect a mill beside the head waters of the . ~ Mangakahia River, for the purpose of cutting and milling the flax which grows over large areas in the upper reaches of that stream. In the latter part of 1906 we found ourselves so far released from other engagements that we were enabled to carry out our intention. Accordingly we established our mill in the upper valley, a mile or so above the spot where the river, having made its way through the straightforward, unvarnished fashion, accompany it add greatly to its realism. and the impressive photographs which encircling hills, joins the stream of the Wairoa and, leaping the falls in a splendid eighty-foot cascade, the combined waters flow through the lower valley to the sea. S38 Away to the north towers the great peak of ‘Tara-rahite Mountain. It is here, among the foothills, that the river takes its rise, and, like most mountain streams, it is subject to sudden spate after heavy rain. But these outbursts were hardly to be looked for in summer, and we confidently expected to get in six months’ good milling before the advent of winter rains put a stop to our operations. MESSKS. FAGAN BROTHERS’ FLAX-MILL ON THE MANGAKAHIA RIVER, AS IT APPEARED BEFORE THE, COMING OF THE FLOOD, From a Phot graph.

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366 THE ees e From a) Situated far in the back-blocks, forty miles from anywhere, the place was a veritable ferra- incognita, roadless and unsurveyed. Under these circumstances the river was our highway, . and down it the flax cut in the upper reaches was floated to the mill. Except for ourselves and our employés, there were only two other inhabitants in the length and breadth of the valley—old Simon Urquhart and his daughter Milly. Simon had trekked into the valley in the days of his youth, with his flocks and his herds, and had forgotten to go away again. His wife, long since dead, he had buried on the hillside, and he now lived alone with his daughter. The first warning of disaster came to us from Brandon, the Public Works Department. sur- veyor, who was plotting out sections in the foothills. Good man! Though camp, tent, and paraphernalia, caught in the rush of a torrent, went whirling ‘down the slope, he yet found time to tear a leaf from his note-book and set a messenger to race the coming flood, with word to those below. Dinner was just over on the 4th of January, 1907; pipes were lit for the ten minutes’ “‘smoke- oh” before resuming work, when a horseman was seen coming at a furious gallop across the WIDE WORLD AFTER THE CLOUD-BURST TWELVE FEET OF WATER COVERED THE SITE OF THE MILL. MAGAZINE. (Photegvaph. flat. Now hidden among the flax clumps, now breaking into view again, but never drawing rein, he came thundering up the hill to where I stood. It was Rimi, a Maori chainman from the survey camp. The lad’s face ran with sweat, his horse’s flanks were white with foam, and his spurs were gory. He thrust a note into my hand and was off again without a word. The message ran :— “Look out below. Cloud-burst in mountains. Flood coming down. Bad.” It hardly needed that last word to enable me to realize the full measure of our peril. Lulled into a false security by previous immunity, we had fallen into a way of neglecting precautions. There were forty tons of cut flax lying in rafts in the stream-bed below the mill. Word had been given to haul-it up the bank that afternoon. Without Brandon’s warning, all hands would have been caught by the flood whilst at work among the rafts, and not a man would have escaped to tell the tale. The distance from the foothills to the mill was perhaps twenty-five miles in a straight line, but owing to the winding course of the river the flood-water, racing round the sweeping curves, would need to cover almost thrice that distance. Starting on the first alarm, a well-mounted horseman might hope to win the race by ten

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CAUGHT BY A CLOUD- BURST. 367 minutes. It was a risky business to cross the fords in face of the advancing flood, but Rimi had done it. . I watched him gallop round the bend below the mill and go tearing over the bridge to take the word to the saw-mill at the falls. Ninety men were at work there. Should the angry river catch them on the low land their shrift would be a short one. But we could trust Rimi to be in time—his father worked in that mill. Whilst I watched above, all hands got down into the river-bed to cut the lashings of the rafts, in a vain endeavour to save at least a few bundles of flax. Too late! I heard the roar of the advancing flood, and round the bend, as JACK CARTER, From) I shouted a warning, it came, a solid wall of water, foam-capped and seething. On its crest whirled a mass of wreckage—up- rooted trees, broken fences, and drowned cattle. Convex in the middle, as though heaped up, the great wave overtopped the forty-foot ditch of the river-bed and its surging edges swept the banks. As the men scrambled up the steep slope the wave was not twenty yards away. It was a near thing. The last man, caught in a shore eddy, was swept off his feet and only saved by the outstretched hands of his comrades, Up to the mill floor surged the water, already a foot beyond highest flood-mark, and still rising. The rafts of flax-bundles, sucked into the vortex, were tossed like straws in the air and, with the other flotsam, roared past and were gone in a flash. There were ten bales of dressed fibre in the mill- shed awaiting transportation, and, whilst some ran to remove all movable gear to higher ground, I and others worked to raise these above danger of wetting. Up to our knees in water, struggling frantically with screw-jack and handspike, at last it was done, and we succeeded in shoring them up, on a temporary floor of plank, four feet above usual level. By this time the water was waist-high, so, feeling we had done everything possible ‘under the circumstances, we waded our way to the hilltop on which stood the shanty containing our living quarters to await eventualities. Getting into dry things and lighting our pipes, we sat down helplessly to watch. ARTHUR FAGAN. THE TWO MEN WHO SWAM THROUGH THE FLOOD TO SAVE THE HORSES. (Photographs. The most marked feature of the occurrence was its appalling suddenness. Not a note of warning had preceded the outburst. here had been no heavy rain and no rise of water in the river. Beyond the fact that, for a day or two, . the cloud-cap had hung low over the mountain and the foothills had been enveloped in mist, there had been absolutely nothing to foretell the catastrophe. Where, a few minutes ago, the long vista of the river appeared, with the stream running peacefully between its high banks, the yellow flood now went racing and roaring by. Great sixty-foot kauri logs and uprooted trees rolled and plunged in the foam. Knots of dead and drowning cattle and horses that struggled, screaming, in the relentless grip of the waters swept down the stream. Evening fell dark and cloudy, but there was

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368 no rain.‘ The flood appeared to have reached its limit, and, confidently expecting to find it had gone down by morning, we turned in. I was awakened by the noise of rain on the corrugated roof. How the iron hummed under the downpour ! Opening the door, I looked out. It was black as the pit. Nothing was to be seen. The night was full of the sound of many waters —the hiss of rain, the splashing crash of great trees falling into the flood, and the crying of cattle, There was no further sleep for anyone that night. Lighting a fire, the cook put on the billy for breakfast, and we waited patiently for dawn. At last day broke, grey and pale, and what a THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. and where the beasts stood, and the current was strong. But you don’t often find a Colonial who is not ready to risk his life for his horse. “Who's for ‘a swim?” shouted Arthur. “Come on, Jack; your nag’s with them.” So he and Jack Carter peeled off their clothes, and, breasting the current with long strokes, reached the horses. Each mounting his own— Arthur grasping the foal by the forelock with one hand—they put them at it, and, coming down with the current, soon regained terra firma. The other poor brutes were only wait- ing for a lead, and followed safely. We were connected by telephone with the post-office at the bridge. The wire still stood, MANGAKAHIA BRIDGE WITH THE RIVEK RUNNING AT ORDINARY LEVEL SIXTY FERT BELOW From a Photograph. sight it was! All the world was beneath the waters. The mill had disappeared ; around its site only the tops of the highest trees were visible. We ourselves stood on a small island, that, from the number of live stock it gave refuge to, resembled Noah’s ark. Driven by the flood, about a hundred horses, cattle, and sheep had collected on the knoll in the night, and the limited space was pretty well crowded. Some distance to the left, on slightly rising ground, stood another group of horses, the water already over their flanks. My brother’s mare, Peggy, was amongst them, and as she saw her master she whinnied piteously. She had a foal at foot ; we could just see the little thing’s black muzzle above water. The flood ran deep for forty yards between us and all that morning there came frantic messages from the postmaster imploring assistance. The bridge was in evil case, he told us ; against the upper works was piled a mass of logs and drift- wood. The great two-hundred-and-forty-foot central span was bending to the weight, and the strain must be intense. Though it stood sixty feet above ordinary river level, the flood now ran a foot deep over the bridge floor. But with all the will in the world to help him, we could do nothing. Our boat had whirled down stream in the first spate, and between the hilltop and the bridge-head ran a foaming yellow sea Above all, our own anxieties were even more pressing. At the time of the inundation three of our flax-cutters were at work twelve miles up river

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CAUGHT BY A CLOUD-BURST. 369 From the height of water, it was apparent that their camp must be twenty feet beneath the flood. Working amid the high flax plants, no warning of the coming peril could have reached them, and there was every reason to expect the worst. Urquhart and his daughter, too—how had they fared? Though their house stood high, it could scarcely have escaped submersion in such a sea. Powerless to aid we were, yet nevertheless torn with anxiety. A night and a day had now almost passed since men, horses, and cattle crowded into that narrow space, imprisoned on our hilltop. The enforced inactivity was becoming irksome, but that afternoon we were destined to have our fill ee = Be them within reach? Hardly; it soon became evident that, unless something could be done quickly, the boat and its hapless occupants would pass full fifty feet from where we stood. “Here, Jack. You are good with the lasso, Icried. “Get aline. Tie on a bolt—anything to give it weight—and heave for your life.” Jack planted himself at the water’s edge. Once, twice, the line whirled round his head, then—swish ! out it flew through the air. “Hurrah! Good cast!” Right. over the boat fell the cord, and old Urquhart, dropping his oar, caught the line and made it fast to the parral in the bow. Triumphantly we hauled the boat ashore, and THE BRIDGE AFTER THE FLOOD—THE WATEK KAN A FOOT DEEP OVER 11S FLOUR, AND LOG) FLOAIED THROUGH THE GIKLEKS. From a Photograph. of excitement. After dinner the rain ceased and there were signs that the flood had reached its height. The men were idly lounging about, smoking or reading, when a shout from some- one brought us all outside. There, drifting through the trees, came a boat, spinning in the current. It was a white- painted boat with a blue streak—Urquhart’s, without a doubt. Yes ; and there was the old fellow standing in the bow, brandishing a single oar, with which he fended off the floating. logs that threatened momentarily to wreck the boat, at the same time making brave endeavours to force the craft in our direction. In the stern crouched his daughter, sunny-haired, laughing Milly Urquhart, with whom we had all fallen in love, now | woe- begone and forlorn. Would they make it? Would the old man’s feeble efforts avail against the current and bring Vol. xx.—47. carried its occupants to warmth and comfort in the shanty. After hot coffee and a meal, the old fellow told us how their boat, moored in a small tributary creek near the house, was caught by a backwash of the flood and thrown, bottom up, into the garden. Righting the boat, he had made it fast to a veranda post. As the water rose, he and his daughter had been driven to take refuge on the roof, and here they had sat, in the drenching rain, during the greater part of the night and all that morning. They suffered much from hunger and cold, and, seeing no hope of the water receding, had decided to take to the boat and trust to the chance of reaching our shanty. The rowlocks and oars had been thrown out of the hoat when it was upset, and they had only managed to recover one of the latter.

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THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “RIGHT OVER THE BOAT FELL THE CORD,” The saving of the castaways was doubly fortu- nate. With Urquhart’s boat there was now a chance of rescuing our men. We had plenty of spare oars, and could at least make a search for them. Nothing, however, could be done till morn- ing, for the flood was full of drifting logs and uprooted trees. A collision in the dark with one of these charging monsters would have smashed the boat to matchwood. As we sat discussing ways and means, the door opened and in walked Tom Hollyer, one of the missing men. He was stark naked, and his body was scratched and bleeding in many places. : He and his two companions, caught among. the high flax by the first rush of the flood, had been’ washed into the standing timber. Clutch- ing at the branches as they swept past, they had dragged themselves above water. Here, safe from drowning, but drenched, cold, and hungry, they sat that night and during the long hours of the succeeding day. In that lonely place there was no one to - hear their shouts for assistance or to render-aid. Their only chance was that the flood might speedily go down. At length, seeing no diminution in the height of the water, Hollyer decided to put into execution a desperate idea that had occurred to him. “As well a quick death,” he argued, “as to die by inches like a starving ‘possum in a tree.” Descending as near to the level of the water as possible, he stood on a branch waiting, till, on an eddy, a kauri log came surging beneath him. Then, loosing his hold, he dropped astride this wild steed. In this fashion, in imminent danger of being crushed to death by other drifting timber, or dashed headlong against a tree-trunk, he had ridden down the flood. Utterly helpless, with no means of guiding it, the strange craft took him where it listed. Spinning, whirling in the current, beneath overhanging branches of thorny trees, which threatened to tear him from his hold, the great log swept. Lying full. length on his stomach,

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GatiGH? BY A CLOUD. BURST. 534i he dug finger and toe-nails into the bark and clung for dear life, till, within a quarter of a mile of the knoll, he had slipped off and, swimming diagonally across the stream, had, after a hard fight, succeeded in reaching dry ground. His mates, he said, unwilling to face the water, were still up river—‘roostin’ in the trees and pickin’ insects out o’ the bark, like a lot of blooming woodpeckers.” They had had nothing to eat for thirty hours. Tom himself was much exhausted and weak from want of food, but after a hearty meal and a good night’s rest was able to pilot us to the rescue of his mates in the morning. So strong was the rush of the stream that, with four good men at the oars, our speed, against current, was little over a mile an hour. Though we started at daybreak the sun was already setting ere a distant hail came to us across the flood. There had been some difficulty in finding the place. In that wide waste of waters, where nothing was to be seen but tops of highest trees, all sense of locality seemed destroyed. Guided by the voice, we made in the direc- tion of the sound, and soon came upon Ned Squires perched in the branches of a Totara pine. Him we rescued from his perilous posi- tion. There only remained ‘Kaiser Bill,” so-called because of the unpronounce- able nature of his own name, and it was a very damp and dis- hevelled “Kaiser” that we presently gathered from the fork of a neighbouring tree. On the homeward trip, Ned, sitting in the bottom of the boat, appeared a bit dazed at the gravity of his late situation, and, by way of relief, swore softly to himself. But the ‘“ Kaiser ” waxed garrulous at the joy of delivery. “Mein Gott, es ist wunderlich,” he said: “neffer, no neffer in mine life did I saw so moosh wasser.” Which, as he came from Munich, where they brew the lager beer, seemed quite probable. A week after these occurrences the river thought fit to again retire within its banks. Our mill buildings had disappeared bodily, but the engine, firmly bedded in concrete and weigh- ing three tons, had withstood the mad swirl. It was, however, almost buried in silt, and it took us a week to dig it out. The bales of fibre had burst their bindings, and the riverside trees for miles down stream were festooned with a white lacework of dressed flax. A good deal of harness and some engine- belts we recovered by climbing the trees and plucking them from the branches, where they hung like fruit, but that was about all the river had left us. Thus, so far as we were concerned, ended the famous “ Manga- kahia Spate,” an ex- perience which, though luckily unattended with loss of life, was, never- theless, quite sufficiently exciting while it lasted. MILLY URQUHART, WHO, WITH HER FATHER, HAD A NARROW From a) ESCAPE FROM DESTRUCTION. { Photograph.

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Re-Naming a Nation. By G. CLaprer. Dr. Eastman, himself a full-blooded Sioux Indian, has been entrusted by the United States Govern- ment with a very curious mission—to provide the red men with family names, and to alter unpronounceable and objectionable cognomens into more euphonious English equivalents. This article describes how he is carrying out his most difficult work. —— R. CHARLES A. EASTMAN, himself a Sioux Indian, has been appointed by the United States Government to bring order out of the chaotic state of the red man’s nomenclature. He is endeavouring to put such titles as Tateyohnakewastewin and Sascheinwei- sen into practical and pronounceable form, and to turn Coffee - Cooler Joe, Rotten Pumpkin, and Skunk Father into cognomens of a more a e spn euphonious nature. fe Ps 7 This task i8 in itself | stupendous, but when =~ there is added to it the necessity of inducing the aged chief of famous name and the young buck just given an illus- trious title to cast aside the names of which they are so proud and adopt some surname which to them means nothing, the work becomes almost impossible. Dr. East- man declares that this is by far the most diffi- cult part of his mission. About three years ago he was commissioned to revise the allotment rolls of the Sioux nation, grouping them under appropriate family names, and retaining, as far as practicable and convenient, the native nomenclature, but adapting it to their new status of citizenship and to the taste and tongue of the white man. This seemed necessary and advis- able on account of the confusion caused in matters of inheritance and other legal matters Aria hea ee DK. CHARLES A. FASTMAN, WHO I$ RE-NAMING THE INDIANS ON BEHALY OF THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT, From a Photo. by Rockwood, N.Y. by the Indian fashion of individual names. Furthermore, there ure on the rolls many names that are long and clumsy, some incorrectly trans- lated, and not a few that are unpleasing or positively obscene. Dr, Eastman will eliminate such names, and a suitable and pronounceable name will be selected from among the imme- diate family connection, with the advice and consent of the person in- terested, which name will be conferred upon the wife and children of each head of a family and will descend to his posterity. When a name in the Indian tongue is musical and agreeable, such as Makata or Wanapin, no change is made. Some- times the English of it is more pleasing, as, for instance, Tree - top or Grass, both poetical and distinctively Indian. Such names as George Washington or John Jones, sometimes indis- criminately conferred at Indian schools, are by no means _ considered desirable. Dr. Eastman’s method is to go to an Indian agency, provide himself with a complete copy of the latest census and the allotment roll, if there is one, and then go out among the scattered camps and farms of the Indians, visiting and consulting them personally regarding any changes deemed necessary or advisable. No changes are made_arbitrarily or without the Indian’s ,consent. (‘This field work occupies

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RE-NAMING A NATION. 373 about half the year, and the other half Dr. Eastman spends at home at his desk compiling his rough field notes and filling out with minute care the blanks provided for the purpose by the Indian Bureau, which include a re- cord of the sex, age, and family relation- ships of each indivi- dual. There are about twenty-five thousand persons in the Sioux nation, and Dr. Eastman’s work is now rather more than half done. He estimates that it will occupy him about two years longer. Because Dr. East- man is a full-blooded Indian and a Govern- ment physician, he has succeeded where a white man would have met blank failure, for the Indian is still suspicious of the white, and he would have deemed an effort to change his name but a trick to cheat him out of his property. Even with the advantages mentioned Dr. Eastman must be very tactful and abso- lutely honest and frank. The fear of trickery, however, is not the only objection which the Indian raises against the as- suming of a new family name by which all his re- latives may be known. In relating some of his experiences the “ Name - Giver,” as Dr. Eastman. is called by the Indians, said :— “At one camp where I had been A PUEULO CHIEF WHO [5 ASSISTING DR. KASTMAN EN HIS DIFFICULT WORK. 5 From a Photograph. THE “SHAKING TOAD” FAMILY, WHO HAVE RECEIVED 1 From a Photograph. ‘<- are particularly success- ful in making my brothers see the advisability of adopt- ing a family name, I met, at the very end of my list, a stubborn refusal from a young Indian of good character and uncommon _intelli- gence. He listened attentively to my ex- planation, and by his intelligent questions showed that he fol- lowed me. I expec- ted him to accept without reluctance the name which I had registered for his family, and was greatly surprised by his final grunt of dis- approval. “‘Um——’ he drawled. ‘Sleepy Dog, he my brother, he no count — he lazy old skunk. Nobody know he my brother now. Give new name, him same as me—then everybody know. No; me like old name heap better.’ As yet I have been unable to gain the consent of this young fellow, and he and Sleepy Dog go their separate ways unrelated so far as a family name is concerned.” In order to facilitate the work of tracing family trees and fixing the results of the. investiga- tion in family names, and also to keep the pro- ceedings in con- formity with the dignity. of a Government enterprise, _ all plans to cele- brate the christening by tribal ceremonies promptly SS F “woop.”

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474 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. | checked by Dr. Eastman and the resident Indian agent. When the “Name-Giver” first appears at a branch agency or tribe, and has presented himself to the chief men of the place, a herald is sent out to summon the people to a council. After a sufficient number of them are assembled, the ‘“‘ Name-Giver” addresses his “brothers” and explains the reason why the- “Great Father” has decided to give them all new names. All those who have consented to receive the new names step forward, and as each family. title is pronounced all of that family file out in line, walk away, and make room for the next group. When asked on what system he based the bestowal of new names, Dr. Eastman replied:— “Well, you see, I was not entirely without the benefit of prece- dent in this matter, for at Carlisle and else- where I had met several young Indians who had solved the problem of translating their own names in quite a satis- factory way. The best example of this sort which I recall was that of a young brave who had been reared as Bob-tailed Coyote. He made the change nicely by requesting to be entered upon the books of the school as Robert T. Wolf. “T have too keen an appreciation of the wonderful poetry of mogt Indian names not to shrink from the audacity of the task of changing them, and at the same time it was inevitable that I should strive, so far as possible, to perpetu- ate in the new name some trace of the poetic or descriptive quality of the old. When the name in the Sioux tongue was not too long, and could be consolidated into a single word capable of pleasing and ready pronunciation in English, I preserved the original. An example of this is Matoska (White Bear), an honoured name that I was glad to preserve in the Sioux. High Eagle “SHE -WHO-HAS- A - BEAUTIFUL - HOME '—THE LADY IS NOW KNOWN AS ‘‘GoooHOUSE,” From a Photograph. is not so attractive in the Indian, and so I gave to this man the family name of Higheagle, with which he and his people were well satisfied. “One of the most complimentary names a Sioux woman can bear is that of Tateyohnake- wastewin, which does not slip readily from the tongue of the average white man. But its meaning, as nearly as may be translated is, She-Who-Has-a-Beautiful-Home. I could think of no simple name for this woman that would retain something of the poetry of her Indian appellation better than the name of Goodhouse. “ Many Indian names are more descriptive than poetic, and in some instances of this kind an improvement on the Sioux has been possible. Rotten Pump- kin, for example, is not a very attractive name, but when changed to Robert Pumpian it is quite personable. Occasionally I found a wife and husband whose names in the original made a beauti- ful combination. A woman named Winona had married a man named Otana. Very naturally, I could: not do otherwise than make her full name Winona Otana.” There are some very interesting stories con- nected with many of the _ peculiar names, and ‘it is readily understood that an old warrior will cling to a title given him as a mark of honour as tenaciously as one holds on to an historic heirloom. : One old chief, Crazy Bull, held out against all argument for a long while, but finally consented to be known as Hero Mann when he was told that his grandson, whom he loved dearly, also would receive the surname Mann, and that the name would go down to the lad’s children and to their children, and so on through the generations’ as long as the family should exist. Crazy Bull received his name after a fight with Indian °

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RE-NAMING A NATION. 375 . awild bull which he conquered at the risk of his life. Some bucks who watched the fight and saw the Indian dancing about after he had killed the animal exclaimed, “The spirit of the crazy bull has gone into him.” From that day he was known as Crazy Bull, and the title was con- sidered honourable. : While Dr. Eastman found it generally true that women are named for some peculiarity of appearance, occasionally a decidedly interesting exception to this rule drew out a dramatic story. The-One-Who-Was-Left-Alone gave him this brief and simple account of the origin of her name :— “The Chippewas fell suddenly upon our camp, when most of the warriors, in- cluding my father, were away hunting ; so my people have told me. My mother was pierced by an arrow, but contrived to fall forward and make no outcry. I was at her breast as she fell. So gently did she go over: that I was not frightened or disturbed in the least, made no noise, and was completely shielded from view by her body. Per- haps the enemy might have come to the tepee and found me, had not ‘the braves of our camp unex- pectedly returned and . driven them away. In the fight, however, my father was killed and scalped. Both my father and mother were without relatives, and when one of the old women found me safely hid under the body of my mother, she gave me the name of The-One-Who-Was-Left-Alone.” Dr. Eastman has pushed his work through Yankton and Sisseton, where most of the civilized Sioux are found, and is at the moment of writing at work on the Two Strikes Band at the Rosebud Agency. This is perhaps the wildest band with which Dr. Eastman will have to deal. That chivalry exists in primitive man was brought out when Dr. Eastman asked Old White Bull, a splen- did specimen of the Indian chief at his best, which of his two wives he wished to bear his new name. “Let them both bear it,” replied the old chief; “1 have loved them for years, and they have served me faith. fully.” When work with the Sioux is completed —and Dr. Eastman still has about six reservations to handle —he will visit the other tribes, and in time every red man in the United States will have a practical surname which can be handed down to his progeny.” “ROTTEN PUMPKIN,” WHO BECOMRS ‘‘ ROBERT PUMPIAN” UNDER THE From a) NEW SYSTEM. (Photograph.

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The “T—House” Mystery. . By Mayor H. J. Ruck Keene, D.S.O. The uncanny story handed down from detachment to detachment of the troops quartered at Charles Fort, near Kinsale, in the South of Ireland. It is a weird and “creepy” narrative, affording food for much speculation. Major Keene has set forth the tale exactly as it appears in the original MS. FEW words of explanation are necessary as to the strange story which appears below. 1 copied the tale practically word for word from the MS. which used to be handed down from one detachment at Charles Fort, Kinsale, to another. The names of the characters are just as they appear in the original, but may possibly have been changed-therein for private reasons. As to the date of Captain Hull’s adventure, I should put it about 1880. That the legend of the ghost existed long before that time I am positive, because my own regi- ment was quartered at Kinsale in the seventies, and I have heard old soldiers say that they had heard of the Charles Fort ghost then. From my own experience I can vouch for “T-House” being a very weird and uncanny place. I, in company with several brother- officers, have seen strange vapours in the hall of the old building, and have heard mysterious subterranean noises at night. to attribute to the fact that a cave existed below the house, and that at certain tides the sea ' From a « hoto. by\ These we used ° CHARLES FORT, NRAK KINSALE, THE SCENE OF THIS KEMARKABLE STORY. would find its way into it, some of the spray being forced up through an unknown fissure in the floor. Several of our non-commissioned officers and men used to say they had seen the ghost, and I know for a fact that although our servants were Ordered to sleep in the “ghost- room,” which was used as an officers’ kitchen, this order was never carried out. I also re- member that my dogs, four in number, would only sleep in ‘T-House under protest, and would always get back to Kinsale, some four miles distant, as soon as they were let out in the morning. In conclusion, I may add that it is a fact that the skeletons were found as stated in the postscript to the story, signed by Colonel R. H. Lewis, whose name is correctly given. With this foreword I must leave the curious narrative ' which follows to the reader’s own judgment. -Some two or three years ago I was quartered at Charles Fort, outside the small town of Kinsale, in the South of Ireland. Our garrison consisted of the major in command, a suba!tern named Hartland, and myself (Captain Hull), (Valentine, Dublin,

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THE “T-HOUSE” MYSTERY. 377 with some sixty non-commissioned officers and men of the 2nd Brigade Royal Artillery. We were not, however, the only soldiers in the place, for, although the town was small, it was of military importance, and the barracks, situated about a mile from the fort, were usually the head-quarters of part of a line regiment. At the time to which my story relates a change of regi- ments was about to take place at the barracks, and, although sorry to say good-bye to the fellows who were going, I looked forward with great pleasure to the advent of their successors, as among them I expected to meet a dear old friend whom I had not seen for several years. A fort, under any circumstances, is not a very lively Iocality ; but when that fort is so ancient as to be eerie, and the surrounding neighbour- hood quiet in the extreme, I don’t think I can bé called a pessimist for acknowledging its utter dullness. Even in summer the old fortress was dark —indeed, the one dark and dingy spot in a bright and pretty picture of sea and shore—and one’s only chance of a sunning was to lie on the grass-grown top of the Devil’s Bastion, where, to give it its due, one might roast if one would. For the rest, all was oppressively grey and cheerless, and cold whenever there was the remotest excuse for being so. It seemed to me that no breath of wind left the heavens that did not make straight for Charles Fort as its first duty, and depart only when it had fairly exhausted itself. T-House, in which young Hartland and I had our rooms, was about the dingiest and most melancholy of all the fort buildings. .Not a ray even of that questionable brightness which on the brightest of summer days might possibly pervade the region of the fort ever by chance found its way round the corner of the parade- ground into its gaunt chambers. Furnish them as we would, they looked persistently chill and uncomfortable. These were quarters we felt more than justified in hating cordially. Hart- land was at the top of the house, and so a few yards nearer the sky ; but my room, lower down, though large enough, had not even the chance of our ordinary dim daylight. The doorway was a hole in the wall, set as far back as it could be made. From a small landing in the middle of the main staircase three steps led up, and three steps led down to this door. I could hardly see to fit the key into the lock at twelve o’clock in the day. My one window looked out on a very narrow backyard and blank high walls, and seemed rather to let in darkness than light. This description of T-House would hold good in the dog-days ; consequently, the utter depres- sion felt therein on a short, gloomy December day may well be imagined. Vol xx.—48, Christmas was fast approaching, and although I had plenty ofxind invitations to join various family circles at that festive season, yet here I was and likely to remain, for the times were troublous and we had to stick to our posts. The weather was miserable, and Hartland, with fine irony, proposed that we should apply for leave to change our apartments for the dungeons under the fort—they couldn’t be worse, and might be an improvement, he said. Whether it was the place or the weather, or the disappoint- ment of not being able to get away, or all together, I don’t know, but I felt very much out of sorts on the evening when the extraordinary occurrences I am about to relate took place. I had been out snipe-shooting, and had not shot badly, either; and, if there is one thing more than another calculated to drive off the blues, it is the hearty exercise of Irish bog- trotting. But, even after bringing down my half-dozen brace, here I was, sitting by my fire with my pipe in my mouth and feeling—well, bluer than ever. Vic, my little fox-terrier, appeared, too, to be possessed of some sad and restless spirit. She tried the comparative merits of a hundred different positions on my rug before the fire, and if I got up for a moment she got up too, keeping close to my heels ina manner most unusual to her. When she made a feint of sleeping I had but to stir hand or foot and her eyes would open wide, staring at me with a most piteous expression. Her company was worse than none at all, but there was no other to be had; Hartland was dining with Major and Mrs. Townley, otherwise’ he would have been glad enough to come and sit with me. As it was, he might look in on his way to his diggings when he returned, but that would not be for some time yet. After awhile 1 ttied to read, and was just beginning to think a little less of the dragging length of the evening when I was disturbed by a low, miserable whine from Vic. I thought the poor little brute had fallen asleep at last and was troubled over some unpleasant dream, so I stooped to give her a reassuring pat, but found, to my surprise, that she was awake and trembling all over. “ Halloa, Vic, old girl,” I said, ‘‘ what are you shivering about? Weren’t you close enough to the fire?” and I threw on another shovelful of coal as I spoke, in the hope of making things a degree more cheerful, both for her and myself. Before the coal had time to kindle my reading- lamp suddenly blazed up, and as suddenly flickered down again and went out altogether. “What's the meaning of this? There was plenty of oil in it,’ I grumbled. “These lamps are always getting out of order.” Not caring to

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378 burn my fingers against the hot glass, I took no pains to investigate the cause of the accident, and satisfied myself with striking a match and lighting a pair of candles on the chimneypiece. It seemed to be blowing even harder than usual outside, for my window rattled as I never THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “Hang it all!” I exclaimed, irritably, as I banged the door and locked it to prevent a recurrence of the catastrophe. “It might as well do some good and blow down the whole fort while it’s about it.” : I groped for my matchbox, but could not “L HURLED MYSELF IN THE DIRECTION OF THE WINDOW.” heard it rattle before, and presently, twisting up the fly-leaf of my book to act asa plug, I crossed the room to try to stop it. Before I had got half-way a violent gust swept round the house, and in one breath blew the door open and the candles out. . immediately find it. Just then it seemed to me that something passed before the window from the rnside. Vic, who all this time had kept up a plaintive whine, now broke into a dismal howl, such as I sometimes used to hearher utter at the sound of

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THE a bugle when she first ‘listed. Startled, I hurled myself in the direction of the window, tripping over a chair and a trunk on my way. I don’t know what I supposed myself to be making a lunge at—certainly not a burglar, for there was no place in the room where ‘a human being could conceal himself, nor could anyone have passed through the door when the gust came without knocking me down. I don’t think I had time to suppose anything; but to make a lunge was my first impulse, and I acted on it. There was a sharp bark, which was almost a scream, from Vic. But for that I might have imagined it was she who gave the weird groan I heard exactly at the same moment. Next came a rattling sound which certainly did not bear the least resemblance to the former rattling of the window - pane. It was more like the clank- ing of a chain; and to my cer- tain knowledge there was no such thing in the room. Then I reached the window, with knees aching from my recent tumble, only to find the obscurity vanish as I ap- proached and the moonlight -Stream in, show- ing me myroom just as usual, and untenanted by any living thing save Vic and myself. Just as I had found my matches and lit up again, seeing that everything was as it should be in the room — except the chair I had fallen over and broken—I heard a matter-of-fact knock at my door. I called_out “Come in”; the handle turned with no effect, and then Hartland’s voice cried, “ Don’t you know your door is locked ?” I hastened to open it and admit him. “Who was she?” he asked, strolling across the room to light his cigarette. ““Who was who?” I said, putting my return question testily. He looked rather surprised. ‘Why, the woman in white who passed me in the entrance two minutes ago,” he answered. ‘I distinctly saw her, by the lamp below, come out of this room and go down thestairs. She passed within From a) THE “T-HOUSE" IN CHARLES FORT—THE CROSS INDICATES THE POSITION OF THE HAUNTED BUILDING. “T-HOUSE” MYSTERY. 379 half a yard of me as I came to the hall; I could have touched her.” “Whoever it was didn’t come out. of this room,” I replied. ‘“ The door has been locked for the last ten minutes, so that part of it must have been an optical delusion, old fellow.” He said nothing. “Do you disbelieve me?” I asked. “Certainly not,” he answered, carelessly ; “ but still a fellow is more or less bound to believe his own eyes before most other things, isn’t he? Let’s drop the subject and smoke.” “Smoke away,” I retorted, “ but we'll talk this out as well. Isn’t there some story connected with this house ?” “T believe so, but I never heard it.” “Neither have I, but I should like to. Something about its being haunted, that is all I know. Well, just now ” Hartland in- terrupted me with a sudden burst of laugh- ter. “You are not going to tell me, with that grave face, that you have been seeing the ghost?” he asked. “ Evidently,” I said, some- what curtly, “that favour has been re- served for you ; but I’ve been hearing——” Then, waxing hot, I poured forth, with perhaps more fervour than discretion, the whole history, as far as I knew it, of the late mysterious sounds. I think I convinced him without much trouble that it was no humbug on my part, for when I had finished he besought me, with the utmost solemnity, to come and sleep in his room until I could get some other, as any further shock to my nerves might be dangerous. This, thought I, was one word for me and two for himself ; but I assured him I had no nerves, and preferred sleeping where I was, and seeing anything there was to be seen. In about half an hour after that he left me, and my quarters for the rest of the night were as quiet as the grave. Neither rattling nor groan- ing disturbed my rest, and I even forgot the mystery in sleep. (Photograph.

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380 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. My old friend, Captain James, and the expected new detachment arrived the next weck at the Kinsale Barracks ; and the day after his coming, as early as I could get away, I went over to see James. We chatted for awhile in his room, and I then asked him to come out, offering to show him his way about Kinsale. He laughed rather oddly, but I took no notice, and we started off. We strolled through a few narrow, muddy streets, looked into the one large shop which the town boasted, and finally visited the post- office. Just as we were leaving it, the rector of Kinsale, Mr. Coleman, and his wife passed on the other side of the street. I was not personally acquainted with them, and was somewhat sur- prised to see them both bow in our direction, but still more surprised when I saw James raise his hat with a decided bow of recognition. “Where did you make their acquaintance?” I asked; “surely the natives of Kinsale have not been calling on the new regiment already?” “JT knew them both years ago,” he answered, with a grim smile at my astonishment. “You didn’t know that I was quartered at Kinsale before, old chap?” I did not, because, since the time we were chums at school, we had lost sight of each other till about nine years before, when we had the luck to meet in India. I remembered now that James had never spoken of anywhere he had been, or anything that had happened prior to his coming out. In India we were thrown together for a long time, and about three or four years ago we met again in England. This, of course, would not count for much had we not been kindred spirits to begin with; but, being so, these chance meetings had made us fast and intimate friends. The infinitesimal romance that had once found its way into my life had been laid bare to him long ago, and I did not feel I was taking much of a liberty now when I said to him, “ How did you know these people ? Because I noticed Mrs. Coleman looked rather strangely at you when she bowed, and you your- self, though you might not believe it, made a weakly offer at a blush.” “ 1 knew her as well as a fellow can generally get to know his cousins when he likes them,” he answered, with an assumption of indifference that did not deceive me. “Her people lived in Kinsale at that time, and I was at their house most days.” “ And her husband ?” “He was her brother's answered, shortly. I thought I saw how it was, and asked no more questions; but presently James said, “I don’t see why I shouldn't tell you the yarn. In tutor then,” he a small place like this, no doubt we shall be always knocking against these people, and it might be as well for you to know it.” “Come and dine with me to-night,” I said. “Where?” he asked, bluntly, and giving me a peculiar look, “At Charles Fort, of course ; my rooms are in T-House.” He yave a grim, unpleasant laugh that rather startled me. “Not likely!” he said. “I’m afraid you won’t have much chance of showing me your hospitality unless you change your quarters.” “Why so?” I asked. “ Because, my dear fellow, nothing but necessity would take me to Charles Fort at all, and I don’t think any necessity under the sun will induce me to enter ‘T-House. It sounds precious like funk, doesn’t it?” I thought of James’s well-established reputa- tion for pluck, and, remembering that it had been proved by a good many instances—out tiger-shooting and otherwise—I knew he could afford to talk about funk. “Part of my yarn will explain my polite refusal of your invitation,” he went on. “ You will come back to barracks with me this evening. We will shirk mess and have dinner comfortably in my room.” So I did, and heard his story. The first part of it was-not meant for anyone but myself ; and no one shall hear it. Perhaps if they did they would call it love-sick nonsense. Anyway, they sha’n’t get the chance; the gist of the matter is sufficient. He fell in love with his cousin, Frances Sinclair, and intended asking her to be his wife ; for the rest, his own words are better than mine, and 1 have here set them down. There was a mere handful of Artillery at Charles Fort just then, and I had been sent down there with a detachment of our regiment. My room was the one you say you sleep in now, in T-House. I had another, to the right-hand side on the ground floor, but I merely used it for, taking my meals in, and did not think it worth while to furnish much for the couple of months I was likely to be there. One evening, about Christmas-time, I returned to the fort from the Sinclairs’, where I had been dining, with a book which Frances had lent me in my pocket. When I reached T- House I went into the lower room, intending to have a smoke before going upstairs for the night, but I had not taken many puffs when I was disturbed by a loud rattling noise, seeming to come from the direction of my sleeping-room. I went out into the stone hall and stood at the bottom of the stairs listening... The rattling had ceased

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THE already, and the next sound I heard was a heavy groan. I went up the staircase, where, as you know, three steps lead up, and three more down to your room—a breakneck arrangement I always thought it. The rattling commenced again, distinctly inside the room, and terminated in a hollow clank. I sprang up the three steps and called out, “ Who’s there?” Only a groan answered me. I went down “T- HOUSE” MYSTERY. 38r down the stairs and laid me senseless at the bottom. Frances’s book, still in my pocket, came between my side and the edge of the last step—but for this I might have been a good deal hurt. As it was, I had received a pretty con- siderable shaking ; and. when, half an hour later, the Artillery officer found me and got me to open my eyes again, I did not feel much inclined to give an account of myself. He did not over- From a) the other three and tried to open the door, but it resisted as if locked on the inside. I shook it violently, and called out again :— “Who's there? Open the door directly.” I half suspected a hoax, although the only other officer living in the fort—an Artillery fellow— hadn’t enough “go” in him to get any amuse- ment out of a thing of the kind; and I deter- mined to get to the bottom of it without loss of time. I got over the steps again, and was going down to find something to force the door with when I was arrested by the sound of another fainter rattle and three or four groans in suc- cession. Losing all patience, I bellowed my question for the third time, concluding it in no very choice or measured terms. No sooner had I finished speaking than a sudden rush of wind passed me ; the door flew open and I received a mighty impetus, though from no visible hands, which flung me forward THE ENTRANCE TO CHARLES FOKT, (Photograph question me, probably believing that I was drunk or had had a fit. No doubt in the same belief he thought I might require looking after, and readily consented when I asked him to let me sleep on the sofa in his room for the rest of the night. Next day I went to barracks and found the latest news was that one of our fellows had got sudden orders to take a draft to the depdt, and was in a very ill humour at the prospect of the job. This was too good a chance to let slip. 1 worked hard with the chief and got leave to exchange, I going to the depot and young Walker taking my place with the detachment at Charles Fort. The horror that possessed me at the recollection of the night before was so great that I had no control over it, and my one desire was to get rid of any connection with the fort for good. “Did nothing ever turn up to account for the

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382 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. sounds you had heard?” I asked, greatly and very naturally interested. “Nothing ; unless you would call a legend an explanation. I dare say you know that T- House has had for a century the reputation of being haunted by the ‘ White Lady,’ as they call the ghost? The story goes that a colonel’s son, himself a young officer, brought his bride home to that house. She had seen those pink sea- flowers that grow on the rocks beneath the fort, and whimsically wished, in the middle of the night, to have some. Her husband went outside to the sentry, and bribed him to leave his post and clamber down for the flowers, promising to keep his watch until he returned ; but his eyes were heavy with sleep. Presently the colonel made his rounds, and, finding the self-constituted sentry sleeping at his post, shot him, as was his duty in those stern old days, never knowing it was his own son. In the morning the bride went to seek him, and, finding his dead body, put an end to her sorrows by throwing herself from a bastion; and the old colonel, I believe, shot himself when he found what he had done. The ‘White Lady’ was always believed to pay periodical visits to the scene of the tragedy and the room from which she sent her husband forth to his fate.” “ All rubbish, of course,” I said ; but all the same I felt uncomfortably credulous. ‘ And how about the Sinclairs ?” “Thad not time to go there to say good-bye, as I had to start that very evening ; but as soon as I reached the depot I wrote to Mrs. Sinclair, apologizing, and excusing myself on the ground of my sudden exchange. I intended writing to Frances as soon as | received her mother’s answer, but no answer came. _ I wrote again in a day or two with the same result, and I had just made up my mind to write to Frances with- out any more delay; when I had a letter from one of our fellows, casually mentioning her engagement to Coleman, and seeming to take it for granted that I knew of it. “It was then that I exchanged into the other battalion and went to India, and I never saw her again until to-day. At the time I believed everything bad of her; but long after she was married and out of my reach I discovered the true reason of it all. hole for gossip 1 have ever been in, and I was not so particularly favoured as to escape the wagging of malicious tongues. The Sinclairs were persuaded that my reason for leaving so hastily and suddenly had been to avoid any serious consequences of my flirtation with Frances. Coleman had been in love with her for long enough, and she only did what I believe women often do, when she let my supposed deser- Kinsale is the worst little - tion pique her into accepting him. We have both had time to get over it; but still——” He broke off suddenly, and we both stared into the fire in silence. Now I-had the ex- planation of my ghastly experiences of the previous night. James’s adventure was exactly similar to my own, but there was no chance of a convenient exchange for me ; I had to go back and brave the hours of darkness in T-House as best 1 might, and I did it in no resolute or steadfast frame of mind. I thought I might as well pass the legend on to Hartland, and, late as it was when I got back, I knocked him up to hear what I had to say. After doing audience in silence, he shook himself out of bed and began putting on his clothes. “ What are you dressing for?” I asked, think- ing he had taken sudden leave of his senses. “‘I_I don’t feel exactly inclined to go to sleep again,” he admitted, cautiously. “ In—in fact, I'm not at all sleepy, and if you don’t mind I'll go down with you for a bit and have a smoke.” If he wasn’t sleepy, I was beginning to be, and didn’t at all see the sense of the arrange- ment; but I doubt if it would have been much use for me to say no, as it seemed his determin- ation to stick to me would have been rather hard to shake. He locked his door—I suppose to keep out the ghost during his absence—and we turned to go down together. Suddenly he grasped my arm in a convulsive snatch, and, pointing with his other hand, gasped into my ear a horrified whisper of ‘There she is !” Looking in the direction his shaking hand pointed, I saw a woman's figure standing on the stairs leading to my room. She wore some loose white dress, and her back was towards us when we first saw her, but, as we stood watching in awe-stricken silence, she moved slowly round and lifted to us a face beautiful enough, but colourless as a corpse—a face with such a look of pitiful pain ip it as I think we shall both remember to our dying day. I don’t know what I said, but I spoke to her and moved forward. She instantly turned round again, went up the three steps, down the other three steps, and through my door, which was locked, and the key in my pocket ! Hartland and I walked out of T-House there and then. We thought we had had enough of it, and we went across to the mess and sat up there all night. Next morning we both applied for leave of absence on urgent private affairs. - MarveL_t Hui. Extract from a letter from Colonel Lewis, a relation of the writer of the above. “T can certify to the truth of the main points of the foregoing story,.which occurred not many er ey

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THE “AS WE STOOD WATCHING IN AWE-STRICKEN SIIEN years ago, being nearly related to one of the gentlemen who had the rencontre with the *White Lady’ in Charles Fort. The colonel referred to was commonly called ‘Governor Browne,’ and unintentionally shot his own son or.ran him through the body under the circum- stances described ; this happened about a hundred and fifty years ago. The Governor soon after committed suicide, and his poor son’s widow, being hastily informed of her husband’s death, ran out in her nightdress, jumped over the bastion, and was killed. The story of the “T-HOUSE” MYSTERY. SHE MOVED SLIGHTLY ROU! ‘White Lady’ (as described) has from time immemorial been a tradition of Charles Fort held in the small town of Kinsale. Some three or four years ago, while workmen were excavat- ing near the ‘sallyport’ of the above fort, a male and female skeleton were found; no in- formation could be gathered about them, and it was generally. surmised that they were the remains of the poor ‘ White Lady’ and of her husband or his father. (Signed) “R, H. Lewis, Colonel. “June 18th, 1885.”

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ORE QUEER FIXES By H. H. Powe tt, Captain J. A. SPRING, AND WALTER WASHINGTON. So popular were the series of “ Queer Fixes” which we recently published, detailing out-of-the-ordinary happenings and remarkable predicaments, that we have decided to continue them. Below will be found the second instalment of a fascinating collection of narratives. V—ONE CHRISTMAS DAY. Totp By Epwarp Burton anp Set Down sy H. H_ PoweLt. AM hardly likely to forget my first Christmas in Canada; it came so perilously near being my last upon this terrestrial sphere that the memory of my thrilling experience is still responsible for my nastiest form of nightmare. Fresh out from the old country in the previous spring, with all the average emigrant young Englishman’s enthusiasm for an open-air life, spiced with the prospect of a little sport and adventure, I had gladly jumped at a job as chainman on a railroad survey party—one of those hardy little bands of nomadic tent- dwellers, continually en- gaged in extending the civilizing influence of the steel highway ever [ farther into the wilds of the Dominion. And a pleasant life it proved in many ways, though very far from the easy- going semi-picnic I had inhocently imagined. It was not till the snow came to stay jn late November, and the mercury evinced an un- pleasant disposition to drop daily farther below zero, that I began to favourably compare the joys of civilization with the various discomforts of life under canvas, but unexpected promotion to the post of rodman more than determined me not to funk the severities of the winter. After several months in the bush we had approached a comparatively settled neighbour- hood, and much to the general satisfaction were enabled to shift camp again just before Christ- mas and pitch our weather-beaten tents in the wind-screened shelter of a pine-clump not more than a dozen miles from the rail. All the boys had been eagerly calculating upon this move to enable them to take advantage of the two con- secutive days’ holiday occasioned by the twenty- SO ANZ m\ NWS ATYPICAL SURVEY CAMP IN WINTER. From a Photograph. fifth falling upon a Saturday. By quitting work a little earlier than usual on the Friday there would be time to board either ‘the east or west bound cars, pay a flying visit home, and be back to a latish breakfast on Monday. Even our ambitiously energetic chief, who grudged every minute of the working hours, was favour- able to the scheme, to which it seemed there was only one awkward drawback. Someone of responsibility must remain in charge of the camp, for, in addition to stores and personal effects, there were all the valuable professional instru- ments and the whole result of many months of labour in the shape of yoy plans and notes repre- + senting an expenditure of many thousand dollars. “How about old Jim?” suggested the leveller, when the ques- tion was first seriously discussed. “I hear he means staying in camp, anyway.” “Daren’t trust him, worse luck,” said the ~chief, decidedly. “Heaven only knows what the drunken old sweep would be up to. If he wasn’t such a dandy cook I’d_ have fired him months ago.” “We'll have to draw lots for it, I reckon,” put in Laurie, the’ transit man. “If my luck’s anything like what it’s been at poker the last month, the job’s a cinch (certainty) for me.” But here I came to the rescue and dispelled the dawning apprehension depicted in half-a- dozen faces by volunteering for the task myself, a very minor sacrifice considering that I had no friends within reach, and little inclination to spend the festive season in a strange hotel. My offer was gratefully accepted, and thus it came about that Christmas Eve saw the whole party, barring Jim and me, sleighing gaily off to the

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MORE QUEER FIXES. 385 station, shouting ‘‘ Merry Christmas ” at us until the rig was out of hearing. They meant well, no doubt, but I couldn’t help feeling the irony of the familiar words as I gazed over the lonely expanse of snow-whitened landscape before turning back into my deserted tent. Old Jim, however, did his best to rise to the occasion. We had mince-pies for supper, and I was actually promised goose and plum-pudding on the morrow. It was perishingly cold outside, but over a red-hot stove we made ourselves pretty snug while my companion yarned of the days when he cooked for a big lumber-camp far north up the French River — a job, as I happened to know, from which he had been finally “ fired ” for “running amuck” armed with a meat- chopper, during one of his _ periodical bouts of hard drink- ing. At breakfast next morning Jim an- nounced his inten- tion of “slipping over to the village for a flash of rye.” It wasn’t above four miles, he said, and he'd be there and back in no time on snow- shoes ; anyway, he must have ‘a finger or two” to make it feel like Christmas. Know- ing his reputation, I was not without misgivings as to the results of an expedition it would have been futile to remonstrate against, and they changed to convic- tion as hour after hour went by and he did not re- appear. Well, I was certainly not going to cook goose and pudding for myself, and so the promised Christmas banquet resolved itself into a_ handful of soda crackers and a cup of cocoa. All the dull grey afternoon I read and smoked ; evening came, but no Jim, and being by this ‘time pretty peckish, and feeling it was useless to Vol. xx.—49. : “THE HEAVY, KREN-FUGED AXE-BLADE GILANCED OFF A FROSTED NOTCH IN THE LOG AND GASHED ME DEKFLY HETWEKN THE TOES.” wait longer, I went across to the cook-tent to fry a slice or two of pork for supper. It was while splitting kindling for the stove that the catastrophe happened. The heavy, keen-edged axe-blade glanced off a frosted notch in the log and gashed me deeply between the toes of the left foot, slicing through my thin deer-hide moccasin like paper. . Sick with pain, I rapidly pulled off. my in- stantly - ensanguined footwear, and saw at a glance that the injury was a most serious one. By the horrible way in which the blood gushed out I knew that I had severed an important artery, and though it flowed _ less rapidly after I had bound my hand- kerchief about the wound and drawn a moccasin lace tightly around the ankle, I felt only too sure that, with- out speedy surgi- cal assistance, I must __ inevitably bleed to death. And I candidly confess that it was with a sinking heart that I real- ized how well-nigh hopeless were the prospects of help of any sort. Jim’s return was, of course, a broken teed to trust to; four miles of deep snow lay between me and the village where he was doubtless carous- ing; and dark and late as it was not a soul was likely to pass within shouting distance of our isolated camp. Every moment the situation grew more desperate. A frightful feeling of faintness was gradually creeping over me, and, though I strove hard to collect my thoughts and hit upon some ‘feasible means of attracting attention, I racked my fast-clouding brain in vain. Once a desperate hope crossed my mind that I might possibly win as far as‘ the concegsion road, that

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386 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. lay about a mile or so distant, and take the chance of being picked up there. But the mere effort of limping a few yards brought on the hemor- rhage so profusely that I was forced to abandon the idea. I had become so weak and giddy that I doubt if I could have staggered even a hun- dred yards. And yet it was horrible to lie there absolutely helpless in that silent solitude with one’s life-blood fast ebbing away, and with no hope, no remote possibility of rescue. More than once I made clumsy attempts to bind the wound to greater advantage, but all I could do seemed of little avail to stanch its per- sistent flow. Twice at least I fancy I must have lapsed into a. semi-swoon ; at any rate, I seemed to lose count of time for a space, only to wake again to all the horrors of the situation. I was getting a little light-headed, too; I actually caught myself laugh- ing hysterically at a grotesque shadow cast upon the canvas by something in the tent. Pulling myself together, I looked round to try to dis- cover the object, and it was in doing so that the gleam of the coal-oil can attracted my attention, and Heaven sent me inspiration in reply to my prayers. A mad, wild scheme it seemed at the time, but, desperate as my plight was, I felt it the only chance of salvation. With an infinitely painful effort—so weak had I become by this time—I dragged the heavy can across the tent, saturated with paraffin the foot-deep layer of straw upon which Jim and his mate spread their blankets, and, after searching vainly for a match, knocked off the lamp-glass and flung the blazing wick into the centre of the inflammable pile. It was my final effort. All I remember after that was a leaping sheet of flame, that singed my hair and enveloped every- thing within reach in its fiery embrace, while I somehow stumbled into the open and collapsed upon an adjacent snow-drift within dangerous distance of the wind-fanned flames. It was, I learnt afterwards, an elderly settler ‘*\ LEAPING SHEET OF FLAME, THAT SINGED MV HAIR AND EN- VELOPED EVERYTHING WITHIN REACH IN ITS FIERY EMBRACE.” sleighing home with his wife from a Christmas gathering who first noticed the conflagration. “Jee!” he exclaimed ; “them surveyor fellers up yonder must have set their camp afire some- how, or else some prowling hobo’s done it for ’em. Best drive over and see if we can lend a hand.” And so they found me, apparently life- less, upon a blood-stained snow-bank, still licked by a hundred fiery tongues. Quickly they put me aboard the sleigh and galloped to the abode of a young surgeon who had recently set up practice in the neighbourhood. “A miracle—nothing short of a miracle he hasn’t bled to, death,” was the medico’s verdict.

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MORE QUEER FIXES. “ Another ten minutes, and I could have done nothing for him. As it is, I doubt very much if he'll pull through.” But I did, you see, though only after a long, long struggle, complicated by an attack of brain- fever, in which I raved deliriously of my awful experience. The boys behaved like bricks when they came back, and even the autocratic V.—JUST 387 company treated me as well as I could expect— thankful, perhaps, for the comparatively unim- portant nature of the damage. Whatever suspicions were entertained by the officials at head-quarters, 1 was never called upon to explain exactly how I came to fire the tents. They contented themselves with “ firing ” me. IN TIME. By Captain JOHN A. SPRING. Lestiz B. WoosTER and the wiiter had been intimate friends for several years when the incident here related occurred. We had ranched together and travelled together upon the wiesas and rugged mountain roads of Arizona—at that time constantly infested by the murderous bands of the wily Apache chief Cochise. At last, however, we became sepa- rated for a time, as my protracted ill-health urgently demanded a_ physician’s services. Thus I left the farm and went to the city of Tucson, and later, my health being somewhat restored, I was engaged as clerk for the Sutler Store at Fort Crittenden, Arizona, at the base of the Santa Rita mountains, distant from Tucson about fifty-five miles. Not long after my arrival at Crittenden, I was overjoyed to meet my friend Wooster, who had a sub-contract for the delivery of hay at the fort. He visited the Sutler Store frequently in order to purchase provisions, his hay camp being in the Soncita Valley, about six miles distant. During one of his visits he complained to me of the conduct of one of his men. In order to make speedy progress in the delivery of the hay, which he had begun rather late in the season; he had procured a “Buckeye” hay- cutter—a very rare article in Arizona in those days—and two strong mules. He had also hired a young Irishman as driver for this machine, at extravagant cost, owing to the urgency of the occasion. Although it had been agreed that this man’s wages (he boarded at the hay camp) should not be paid until the delivery of the whole amount of the hay had been completed, the Irishman, who was of a surly temper at all times, constantly demanded his money, frequently in terms that Wooster designated as “nasty.” He had even used threatening language, and at times it would appear as if he were not altogether in his right mind ;-all of which made Wooster very uncom- fortable. He had not the necessary cash to pay the man off ; neither could he very well dispense with his services. Thus matters stood when I unexpectedly lost my situation through a change in the partner- ship owning the Sutler Store. The two new partners arrived, and the turnover of the effects was made. As I was very well acquainted with them we spent some time together after dinner, enjoying a glass of wine and a cigar. But somehow or other I was very restless. 1 had a strange feeling that something was wrong. Students of the occult, in view of what happened shortly afterwards, will unanimously declare that I was under the influence of tele- pathy. At all events, it seemed to me that day that an invisible but powerful mental force was urging me towards Wooster’s hay camp. I felt --I may say I knew—that my friend was in imminent danger of losing his life, although this danger did not, in my premonition, take any pronounced or tangible shape. At last the feeling became so strong, urgent, and irresistible that I could sit still no longer. I explained the state of my mind and the cause of my restless- ness to the former owner of the store, and he very kindly loaned me a_ horse, saddle, and bridle. Like everybody else in those days, I had a loaded revolver ready to hand, and I started for Wooster’s camp at once. The nearer I approached to it the more the uncanny sensation that possessed me increased in strength. My presence, I felt certain, was urgently needed there. I rode at a furious gait and presently came in sight of the farm. I could see when still far distant that the mule team hitched on to the hay-mower was standing idle in the valley bottom, although it was during working hours, while three men were cutting hay with scythes and two others were loading a wagon about half a mile below the camping-ground. Fifty yards farther brought me around a turn in the road to a spot whence I could see the small adobe house that Wooster used as a temporary dwelling and storeroom. It stood on a little knoll, with its face to the road, and I saw with astonishment that a young man, whose face was unknown to me, was busily engaged piling mesquite wood and dry brush against its one closed door. Wooster himself was nowhere to be seen. ‘The man at the door never turned-round, although he

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388 must by this time have dis- tinctly heard the hoof-beats of my galloping horse. 1 could see that, strapped round his waist, he wore a leather belt, from which hung a holster with the pistol-butt protruding. Suddenly Ramon Mor- age, the cook and man-of- all-work, who had been with us on the ranch near Tubac, appeared from behind the house. He saw me, and immediately motioned to me to make a défour into the bushes along the right side of the road. Here he joined me, and in a few hasty words explained the situation. The driver of the mower had become demented ; at dinner-time he had quarrelled with Wooster, demanding his wages in an insolent and threatening manner ; still, he had gone to his work after the meal was over. About two o'clock, how- ever, while he (Ramon) was sharpening scythes on the grindstone behind the dwel- ling, the Irishman suddenly returned. Finding Wooster mending his buckskin leg- gings in the house, he pulled out his revolver, shut the door upon Woos- ter, and dared him to show his nose outside un- less he handed out the amount due to his assail- ant. There was no other opening in the walls of the house, Ramon had no fire- arms, and the Irishman had a fully-loaded revolver. All the working men were busy in the field half a mile away, ignorant of what was happening at the hut. After some delay the crazy man, always keeping an eye on the terrified Ramon, ready to shoot him down if he attempted to THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. igh ed ‘BEFORE HE COULD RAISE HIS OWN WEAPON RAMON’S NOOSE FELL OVER HIS SHOULDERS. fetch assistance, obtained from the tool - box with he nailed the door fast to its frame, thus under the shed two spikes and a hatchet, where- making Wooster a(helpless isoner. Then he

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MORE QUEER FIXES. 389 had gathered dry sticks from the wood pile, and was now piling dry and green wood and dry brush’ against the door in order to set the place on fire, or else suffocate his prisoner ! What was to be done? While Ramon told me his story he and I had hidden in a clump of bushes at the base of the knoll. Men think fast at such times, and a scheme soon occurred to me. I gave the Mexican the lariat which I found strapped upon my saddle, and explained my idea. After making a sling with a sliding knot on one end of the lariat, I told him to run quickly to the rear wall of the house and gain the top of the flat roof by means of the ladder which happened to be standing there. When he had well-nigh reached the roof I would come suddenly to the front of the house and engage the attention of the maniac. The Irishman upon being spoken to would turn his back to the house and face me, and at this moment Ramon was to throw the noose of the lariat over his shoulders and pull the loop tight. All this took much less time than it takes to relate it. Ramon understood my plan perfectly, and forthwith started to perform his share of the work. I saw him pick up a few stones on the way and put them in his pockets. Directly he set his foot upon the first rung of the ladder I advanced from the front upon the crazy man, and when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the form of Ramon crouching upon the roof I walked to within a few yards of the lunatic, who seemed completely absorbed by his murderous work of piling more and more wood upon the fire. He had already lit it, and it was now blazing furiously. All the time he worked he kept cursing everybody and everything in a loud voice. I had cocked my revolver and held it behind my back, and, with a voice which I tried to render as natural as my excitement permitted, I said :— “Halloa! Are you trying to smoke out bats, or mice, or what?” At these words he whirled round quickly, with the intention of seizing his pistol, which. he had laid on the ground near by. As he rose, with a hideous snarl on his lips, he looked into the muzzle of my cocked revolver. Before he could raise his own weapon Ramon’s noose fell over his shoulders and was tightened so swiftly as to throw him to his knees. In another second Ramon dropped like a cat from the roof, and between the two of us we had the struggling, cursing lunatic tied hand and foot in a trice. Then, dragging away the blazing wood, we released Wooster—already suffering from the heat and lack of air—who was not a little astonished to see me on the premises. “ How on earth did you happen to be here?” he said. “T think you called me,” was my answer. “That could hardly be from such a distance,” he said, puzzled. “ But I certainly wished you here with all my might.” “Then you thought of me while you were in this fix?” I asked. “T’ve thought of nothing else since the begin- ning of the row—at dinner-time. Oh, how | wanted you!” “T felt it,” I said, “and I came. Shake!” VI-A HUMAN PENDULUM. By WALTER WasHINGTON. AFTER a very adventurous life, during which I was a soldier, sailgr, marine, and prize-fighter, and travelled to nearly every corner of the globe, I married and settled down to the com- paratively prosaic life of a steeplejack. Being very athletic and of muscular build, I found I could get plenty of employment and good wages for painting flax poles, chimney-stacks, and simi- lar work that required steady nerves, the knack of rigging, and a seaman’s knowledge of knots and hitches. There was an ele- ment of danger and daring about this work that suited me, and I was often sent for by people at MK. WALTER WASHINGTON. From a Photograph, a distance who had heard of me, and could get no one locally who knew how, or had nerve enough, to execute the jobs they placed in my hands. In the fall of 1903 I took a contract to scrape and paint the iron chimney-stack of the Ridge- wood Pumping Station, Long Island, New York, belonging to the Brooklyn Water Commis- sioners.* The stack is the tallest iron chimney in the United States, being two hun- dred and _ seventy-five feet high. The diameter of * At the time of this adventure I was work- ing for Mr. F. P. Forman, of Broadway, New York City, who sublet the contract to me and can vouch-for the truth of my story.— THe AUTHOR.

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390 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the stack is twelve feet at the top and _thirty- two feet at the ground, and an out- side iron ladder lead- ing to the top of the chimney is provided to facilitate any painting or re- pairs that may have to be done from time to time. To do the work I built a light swinging scaffold. Its middle fitted into the stack, and it was swung from light half-inch tackles fitted at each end, sus- pended from two large hooks fixed at the top of the chimney expressly for the purpose. To paint and scrape the stack all round I found I should have to move my scaffold three times. I raised my staging by means of the two scaffold falls, working entirely alone except when it was necessary to haul the scaffold to the top of the stack, when I got one of the employés at the pump- ing-station to work the falls while I ran up the permanent ladder attached to the chimney to make the staging fast at the top. To lower the structure I would take off the hitch from one end at a time, and then lower both falls together. The pumping station at Ridgewood is situated in a very exposed position, and, as ft was the month of December and very windy, to keep from being blown out from the chimney | had a rope attached to one end of the scaffold, passed round the stack, and made fast to the other end. One day I was scraping the loose scales of paint off the iron plates, and had descended about half-way down the chim- ney. I was work- ing very hard to get finished, when I sud- denly awoke to the fact that it was growing dark, but, as I required very little light for the job in hand, I continued my scraping. The wind was howl- seemed to be increasing in volume, though I paid but little attention to it. I worked until nearly six o’clock, when it became very dark, so I decided to pull my scaffold round to the ladder on the opposite side of the chimney, make fast, and go home. I was about to put this plan into operation when disaster over- took me. As I unfastened the rope which held my stage to the chimney, intending to pull the scaffold round to the ladder, it slipped from my fingers and vanished into the night. Hardly had I realized what had happened than the high wind, catching the long line of ropes and falls of my tackle, blew the scaffold, with me upon it, out and away from the stack to a distance of twenty feet. Then, the force of the gust suddenly abating, I swung in with a fearful crash against the chimney. The shock of the collision nearly flung me from the stage, but, although dazéd, I yet clung on for dear life. Another instant and I was carried out again, whirled round, and sent hurtling into the chimney again by another puff of wind. Breathless and terror-stricken, I hung on desperately ‘to the falls on one end of the scaffold. As I thought over my position my heart sank within me. It was of no use to call for assistance, for I was a hundred and fifty feet in the air. ‘The wind was shrieking and moaning, and the noise of the machinery in the pumping station far below would drown any sound I could make. ‘To stay in my pre- sent situation for any length of time, however, was clearly out of the question ; for, even if I could manage to Reep from being thrown off, my scaffold would soon be dashed to pieces, and I myself stunned or disabled by striking the chimney. All this time that awful pen- dulum motion was going on, with the in- ing around the ris rHoTocRAPH sHOWS MR. WASHINGTON AT WORK ON THE IRON cHimNE-stack eVitable_ nerve- chimney, and OF THE RIDGEWOOD PUMPING STATION. jarring crash

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MORE QUEER FIXES. “] LOWERED MYSELF UNTIL I HUNG DOWN HOLDING WITH BOTH HANDS TO THE BOTTOM OF THE SCAFFOLD.” - against the chimney every time I swung in. I was now becoming dizzy from the continual whirling round—first one way and then another. Finally I grew desperate. I-realized that some- thing must be done if I did not wish to be hurled down to my death. Nerving myself for a last effort, I lowered myself until I hung down, holding with both hands to the bottom of the scaffold. In this precarious position, before the stage swung in and shook me off, I managed to take a turn of the fall round my leg and, letting | go the scaffold, began to slide down the rope. Now, sliding down a distance of a hundred and fifty feet on a half-inch rope is not an easy matter, even under the most favourable conditions, but on such a night, with the wind blowing almost a gale, and bumping me continually round and against the chimney, the journey became an interminable nightmare. I reached the ground sore, bruised, and breathless, but otherwise sound. After securing my scaffold as best I could, I staggered into the pumping station. “ Halloa!” said the engineer, jokingly, all un- conscious of what had been taking place far above his head. “Are you going to work all night ?” “No,” I replied, emphatically ; “I think I’ve had just about enough of it this.evening !”

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An amusing account of the adventures of two embryo big-game hunters who. went out to seek hippo in the West African bush. T was one day in March, at Rollit’s @) house in Freetown, Sierra Leone, as we sat over a morning pipe discussing BA | holidays, that Rollit worked off the only epigram that can positively be attributed to his thirty odd years. “There are holidays avd holidays,” he said, and I nodded assent to this original differen- tration. We had just sent off to the District Commis- sioner at Batkanu the fees necessary for permission to shoot big game, and were preparing to start for the bush the following week. By some obscure process of elimination, Rollit had reduced the term “ big game” down to hippos. “You see, Forsythe,” he argued, “hippos are most destructive animals ; they play havoc with the natives’ rice-fields, and are, moreover, considered excellent food by those poor fellows. Besides, they don’t make a mouthful of a boat, as is generally believed at home. — It’s—well, it’s an advantage.” “Right you are, Rollit,” I agreed ; “let it be hippos. I like game that doesn’t hit back and do things.” So it was settled that we should go in quest of hippos, and if by chance lions came our way—— “The lion is a noble animal,” said Rollit, beginning to hedge, but I averted a heated dis- cussion by suggesting that if lions came our way we would do our best to shoot them when they weren’t looking. We spent the remainder of the week in 3 getting together guns, tacklé, provisions, and natives. We required nineteen of the last— eight as hammock-bearers, “two as personal servants, eight to carry spofls and provisions, and a cook. We set out from Freetown early one Monday morning (travelling is comfortable only in the morning and evening), and journeyed by boat up Port Lokkoh Creek to Port Lokkoh. From Port Lokkoh we struck across country to a village called Yalisanda, on the Small Scarcies River, and it was during this journey, one night, that we heard lions, though expe- rienced hunters will tell you that there are no lions in this region. When I heard the thunderous roar reverberate through the moonlit jungle surrounding our hut, I rose and violently shook Rollit. “Lions !” I whispered, tragically. “Oh, heavens!” groaned Rollit. earth did we come to this inferno?” “My friend,” I replied, “ your curiosity is a trifle unhealthy at this time of night. It would be wiser to arm yourself.” Another roar brought Rollit to his senses, and the next moment he was standing at a respectable distance from the door—a gun in one hand.and a revolver in the other. I was going to form the second rank, with a hunting- knife as weapon and a footbath for a shield, but Rollit, in Napoleonic tones, ordered me to join him in the fighting-line. This I did, I believe, without any marked hesitation. There we stood, menacingly, for two solid hours, but our courage had no appreciable effect.on the “Why on

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OUR HIPPOPOTAMUS HUNT. 393 enemy ; their noise continued unabated. This humiliating spectacle could not last; it was a slur on our healthy British honour. Should we pursue these thoughtless brutes and put them to the rout? I broached the subject tentatively to Rollit, for the sake of our reputations. But no, he would not hear of so rash an action; and, to tell the truth, I had never heard in my life before such logic as Rollit displayed on this occasion. At Yalisanda we picked up a huntsman who had been big-game shooting with some European sportsmen, and he suggested in broken English, “Na plenty lion, na plenty elephant, me know where.” We engaged him on the spot ; he was just the man to keep us from blundering within twenty miles of these dangerous brutes. Our first move was to “palaver” with the head-man of the village for accommodation. “Palaver,” on the West Coast, is not a mere word, but a complex philosophy. You may kill half-a-dozen men in a free fight—mere “palaver” ; you may make overtures for the purchase of an elephant or a wife—it is all “palaver.” The thing is nearly as useful as a hairpin. Thus we palavered with the head-taan of the village for a hut, and “dashed” him something—a euphemism for making a present. Upon receipt of the “dash” our friend promptly picked us out a decent hut in the village, and summarily ejected its occupants. The unsophisticated may think that the victims of his Highness’s commercial enterprise ought to receive a considerable portion of the “ dash.” THE NATIVE HUT WHICH THE AUTHOR AND HIS FRIEND OCCUMED—THE VILLAGE HEAD-MAN OBTAINED IT FOR THEM From a) From Yalisanda we pushed up country till we came to the junction of the Mabole with the Small Scarcies River, and at this junction lies the village of Roballang, the natives of which belong to the Timine tribe. Roballang was to be our head-quarters, for here the Scarcies abounds in hippos and alligators. Buck and water-buffalo or “ bush-cow” are plentiful in the bush. Though it was the end of the dry season the pool at the junction of the two rivers was a hundred yards wide and about half a mile long. This pool is formed by a rocky ledge which acts as an efficient dam, and renders it an ideal place for hippo shooting. Immediately a hippo is shot he sinks, and, unless debarred by some natural object like this ledge of rock, floats down stream as soon as the gases arising from decay make him sufficiently buoyant, and is lost. Vol. xx.—60. BY THE SIMPLE PROCESS OF RJKCTING ITS RIGHTFUL OWNEKS ! (Pnotograph. Not at all; this would be vulgarly logical, not regal. Our faulty European sense of humanity constrained us to “dash” the owners of the hut after the disappearance of their chief. They hardly understood our way of viewing it, and were honestly surprised, for they had immediately found accommodation among their relatives. Next day we were earnestly advised by our huntsman to have a “ palaver” with the “ moori man,” or priest, and consult his prophetic know- ledge as to the luck we were to experience on our hunt. We took it in a snatchy way that this would present another bright occasion for “dashing,” but consented from sheer curiosity, for we had heard rather tall stories as to the amazing clairvoyance of these fetish doctors. We dashed the “moori man” the somewhat reckless sum of one shilling, and out of this, in an incredibly short space of timé, he purchased

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394 from goodness knows whom a bottle of “square- face,” or trade gin. Then, with the ‘“moori man” and his lieutenants at our head, we marched in solemn procession down to the Scarcies River, coming to a halt before a large water-worn rock on the bank. On this boulder was placed an ordinary earthenware’ plate containing two or three smooth pebbles from the river-bed. The “moori man” that these pebbles were thought to be food by the spirits of the tribe’s ancestors. It was the first insight we had into the gullibility of ancestral spirits. What a convenience to have one’s gods so well in hand!, Then, with pompous ceremony, the priest poured out on the plate some drops of “ square-face” of the testure of a Scotch mist, and, applying the bottle to his mouth, was lost for a consider- & able period in a beatific contem- pe plation of the Fr heavens. Naught was heard but his gurgles of satisfac- tion until his con- federates, growing uneasy, began to fidget and gesticu- late. An adequate prod from a stick brought the “moori man” back to this sordid earth, and when he held the bottle up-to the light and found that he had_ polished off about five- eighths of the liquor his eyes opened with such well-feigned surprise that Rollit and I both burst out laughing. No one but a hopeless cynic could fora moment have doubted that he had drunk beyond his intention. When his confederates had moistened their tongues in the remaining egg-cupful of liquor, the “moori man” bowed down several times and offered his prayer. Bokari, my boy, translated it freely :— “O spirits of our ancestors, who owned this land before us, help white man to kill hippo which destroys our rice-fields as it destroyed your rice-fields in the time that is past.” At the conclusion of his prayer the ‘ moori man” caused to be brought to him a specimen of the ordinary adamantine West Coast chicken. To our surprise he cut off the bird’s head and opened its stomach. We presume that he here From a} told us | THE MEDICINE-MAN AND HIS ASSISTANT INVOKING THE AID OF THE SPIRITS TO ASSIST THEM IN PROGNOSTICATING WHAT SPORT THE WHITE MEN WOULD OBTAIN, THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. pretended to read the Fates from the disposition of the entrails. After this piece of mummery the “ moori man” shut his eyes and stood stock-still for a considerable period—the “square-face” had evidently not affected his equilibrium. On re- opening his eyes he told us that he had, to put it figuratively, “rung up” his ancestors. In a vision they had informed him that we should kill only one hippo, and that a male. This narrative will disclose the value of his preten- tions to clairvoyance. On our return to the village we palavered for a boat, and finally secured an old ship’s dinghy which had somehow or other found its way up from the coast. ‘That evening we reconnoitred some distance up the Small > Scarcies River in ' our boat, and, at a spot where alliga- tors seemed pur- posely _ plentiful, experienced an un- wished-for adven- ture. I have never met a man like Rollit for putting his foot in it, and on this occasion he managed to effect this opera- tion fairly _ liter- ally. In stepping from one part of the boat to the other he thrust an ample hoof clean through the side of the dinghy, the timber of which was as rotten as touchwood ! With remarkable presence of mind the natives threw themselves on the gunwale of the boat opposite the hole and, on our following their example, managed to raise the aperture about two inches above the water-line. Every time a tipple threw a tongue of water through that orifice Rollit groaned, I cast about for adequate prayers, and the negroes gibbered in a farcical way. There we sat—I talking in a paternal way to Rollit, and deftly picking out the glaring flaws in his nature; Rollit cursing me for having hired a death-trap, and in the same breath throwing a dismal blight over the pro- prietor to the third generation. In extenuation of our display of bad temper, I would point out that there is nothing particularly exhilarating about contemplating your proximity to a speedy end and subsequent reconstruction into alligator. (Photograph. ,

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OUR HIPPOPOTAMUS HUNT. 395 By gently oaring we at length succeeded in reaching the bank in safety, and set out for the village. Our intention was to have a “ palaver” with the boat-hirer—five minutes’ uninterrupted “palaver.” We were cheated of it, however ; our man had got wind of the accident and vanished. For our expedi- tion of the following day we hired some ordinary native dug-outs. That night, as we were trying to get some sleep, we were favoured with a chorus of frogs. You may have heard the music of the spheres and. liked it, but I doubt whether you could tolerate the frog symphony. These brutes seemed to have collected round our hut ex- pressly for our benefit, and kept us thoroughly awake for hours. And, of course, by way of cheering me, Rollit had to resort to doleful soliloquies as to what people at home were doing. If there is one thing that is * particularly depressing when you are trying to accustom vourself to the loneliness of the West African bush, it is for some genius like Rollit to commence philosophizing pessimistically at dead of night on the poverty of auman friendships, the ephemeral nature of | life, and the elastic capa- bilities of leopards. Next morning I offered the natives a penny for every frog captured within fifty yards of our hut. The plan failed dis- mally; frogs simply poured in, and I found out that Bokari, my boy, spent all the morning on a frog expedition into the interior! He would have ruined a Rockefeller in a week. After petit déjeuner, consisting of oranges, bananas, paw-paw fruit, and a cup of refreshing tea, we set out for our dug-outs. Our clothing consisted of nothing but thin cricket-shirts and flannel trousers, and even these were soon wring- ing with perspiration, so oppressive was the heat. Reaching our chosen pool, we launched our From a) THE AUTHOR'S FIRST ALLIGATOR. dug-outs. Perhaps you are unacquainted with the temperament of the ordinary native dug-out. Well, let me warn you against it ; it’s a vicious, flighty, peevish, irresponsible thing. A cross word on your part, and it tilts you without further parley into the water. To enable myself to get a steady shot, before embarking I got our natives to cut grass and throw it into the prow of my boat. On this grass I lay flat, and by thus lowering the centre of gravity of the structure prevented its oscillation. Rollit calmly proposed to sit in the stern and shoot over my head! To this I strongly objected, whereupon he hinted angrily that there was some- thing sordidly mean in my love of life. He marched off - in high dudgeon, and left me in peace to lie in wait for sport. That morning we saw no hippo, and Bokari made time pass pleasantly by telling tales to the huntsman and myself— tales which intensified my respect for my boy. Speak- . ing on elephants, he favoured us with what I consider a fine piece of original informa- tion — namely, that the tusks of elephants are quite soft and pliable until the elephant sees a white man, Then the tisks immediately assume their well-known hardness ! On the sun making himself unendurable we beached our dug- outs and came in to lunch. In the hut I found Rollit, still brooding over my reflections on his marksmanship. There was a lofty disdain about the curl of his lip and a certain menace in his eye. Unluckily, he had appropriated - our joint whisky and soda, and, obviously, I was not on friendly enough terms to ask for the use of them. _ Bad luck attended my wait for hippo again in the evening, and next morning the unexpected happened. _Rollit, who has a degenerate faculty for early rising, went down and took possession of the pool long before, Iyhad-risen. When I (Photograph.

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396 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. arrived I found him in occupation. An alterca- tion followed and I playfully hurled boulders from the bank. But seeing him pretty well covering a radius of ten miles with rifle and ex- plosive ball, I left the bank in an undignified if not hasty manher—on all fours, literally trying to feel as small as possible. After getting out of Rollit’s sphere of influence I managed to bag an alligator up stream, and proudly bore my trophy home to serve it up for his envy at hunch. He returned to quarters with an obvious myth about having shot a hippo, and on seeing my alligator began to dilate on the size of hippos in general as if that were a point in his favour. In the evening I managed to take possession of the pool. Whether Rollit was too limp for sport after the day’s heat, or whether he was we took every precaution to avoid proximity. The tropical night now fell with theatrical swift- ness, so we beached our boats and sect off for the village. Early next morning a native reported that a dead hippo was floating in the pool. Rollit and I were enjoying our fruit breakfast in the com- parative freshness of the tropical morn. We weye quite friendly. On the receipt of this important news, however, Rollit at once rose and, with a teacup in one hand and a banana in the other, dramatically claimed that hippo as his. I protested. Rollit set aside all argument with a comprehensive sweep of the banana and a continuance of his rhetoric, sprinkled here and there with something vitriolic. Soon a heated argument was in full swing, which concluded by our deciding to toss for it. We tossed, and the THE DEAD HIFPO RISING TO THE SURPACE—"1T LOOKED LIKE A HUMMUCK OF WATER-WOKN KOCK From a) resting on his laurels—self-manufactured—of the morning I cannot say. Luck had turned for me, and I had not been waiting long when suddenly a native warned me of the presence of game. Up to then I had seen nothing, but soon a curious blowing noise broke the stillness. I was all excitement. A hippo rose for air and thrust his ears, forehead, and nose above the gliding water. It is when in water that the bippo resembles the horse, and the likeness is decidedly close. A hasty glance gives a strong impression of a swimming horse. When about fifty yards distant from the quarry I “loosed off.” Something cataclysmal took place in the water, and the beast instantly sank. I was uncertain whether my shot had proved fatal or not, and as a wounded hippo is dangerous, and will quickly overturn a dug-out, PROJECTING FKOM THE STREAM.” [Photograph hippo fell to me. For once chance had dealt fairly. Rollit, looking thoroughly ill-used, picked up his gun and went out in search of further adventures ; while I, having procured natives, proceeded down to the river to secure the hippo. We found the carcass at the lower end of the pool, looking for all the world like a hummock of water-worn rock protruding from the stream. Paddling over to him, the natives soon had him in tow and gently piloted him to shore. As had been prophesied by the “moori man,” the hippo was a male, and, as subsequent events proved, the only one we bagged on that shoot- ing excursion. Hardly had we beached the amphibian before the whole of Roballang had collected round us, armed with every species of cutting instrument under the sun—machetes,. old naval cutlasses, NS

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OUR HIPPOPOTAMUS HUNT. 397 jack-knives, effete razor-blades, and so on. They had come to serve up my hippo. Bokari, however, first detached from the beast’s side a piece large enough to make a small table-top, and also several strips out of which walking- sticks could be fashioned. The mag- nates of Roballang then claimed the prime cuts, and after they had been satisfied the vulgar herd went at it like a swarm of blow-flies. It disappeared quicker than a hamper of “tuck” among a crowd of school-boys. The detached head was brought up from the mango-shadowed banks into the broad light, where I snapped it with my Kodak—a fearful and wonderful object. When Rollit saw that head his envy knew no bounds, and I don’t blame him. You may possess a jewelled salt- cellar by Cellini; engraved gems by artists of the Cinquecento; you may have treasures in ceramics that are the flower of French or Chinese genius ; a Whistler or a Van der Meer may grace your walls; but, my reader, | ask you calmly — have you a hippo head? No? Then you cannot ade- quately measure Rollit’s envy. The natives affixed the trophy to two stout boughs and brought it up to the village, where I asked my boy and a couple of carriers to divest the skull of as much of the flesh as possible, pre- paratory to our journey down to the coast. Rollit came in, as usual, for lunch. THE HIPVO'S HKAD—A FEAKFUL AND WONDERFUL TROPHY. From a Photograph. He had, according to his report, shot an iguana. ‘““A harmless lizard ! Where is the poor creature?” Tasked. Rollit frowned as if I had in sulted him. “Oh! my boy is skin ning it for me,” he replied, off-handedly. That evening I repeated my request to see the lizard. There seemed to be some hitch in the matter of its appearance. Rollit called to his boy to bring it in. At length hé eames but brought no From a) THE HIPPO AS IT APPEARED AFTER BEING DRAGGED asHoRR. [PAqgipgraph,

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398 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. lizard with him, arid ‘when asked for the reptile assumed a hopeless mien and said :— “Me done eat ’um.” “No, no; I don’t want the iguana, my man,” said Rollit, testily. ‘Only the skin, which I asked you to keep for tobacco-pouches.” “T done eat ’um too,” explained the native. On hearing this Rollit rose abruptly from his seat. But he was too late—his boy had gone; he had, in a moment of inspiration, seen the exact proportions of the coming “ palaver.” The following morning I set off with Bokari in search of water-buffalo or “ bush-cow,” an animal that is extremely dangerous when wounded. We had got well into the bush when I noticed that the outlines of objects harmless little harness antelope which I had almost stumbled on as he lay in the long grass. This antelope acquires the name of “harness ” from -the peculiar marking of the hide. My sun-blindness kept me in the village for the next few days. During that time I had the pleasure of witnessing a Timine wedding. The bridegroom makes overtures to the bride’s father, and between them they settle- -well, we might say the face-value of the bride. Having accomplished this to his satisfaction, he retires to his hut and awaits developments. Mean- while the young lady has collected all her friends and relatives, who, armed with tam- bourines and other instruments of torture, make a procession round the village, indulging in a From a) began to present themselves to my vision in a weirdly blurred manner. I rubbed my eyes, but the effect did not vanish. Then I discovered that the trouble -was sun-blindness—quite a common tropical ailment. I thought it wise to give up the search for ‘“‘ bush-cow,” and had just decided to retrace my steps when suddenly an animal which I could only confusedly discern as a shadow started up about ten yards from me and tore away; then, swerving round, came back full-tilt in a most hostile manner. On the spur of the moment I thought it was a “ bush- cow” enraged at being disturbed, and, in a mortal funk, fired. Down it went! I felt a sense of great relief. On inspection it proved to be a A NATIVE WEDDING PROCESSION. (Photograph. liberal amount of noise. Finally they come’ to the bridegroom’s house, and the procession halts outside. The bride then enters the groom’s house while the assembly remain without and raise a competent sample of pandemonium. The longer the consultation, the more frightful becomes the uproar. At length the bridegroom emerges radiant and informs the father that he is satisfied with his bargain, and pays over the price agreed upon there and then. On the other hand, he has full power to refuse to clinch matters at the eleventh hour.- The average price of a bride is from three to five pounds, paid either in money or kind, but, of course, most often in the latter, which usually consists

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OUR HIPPOPOTAMUS HUNT. of goats, cloth, and beads. During this ceremony we had heard a fair representation of West African music. I am afraid it requires a culti- vated ear to appreciate it. ~ As soon as I had got rid of the haziness from my eyes I was again eage. for sport. Bokari and I set out early one morning in quest of buck. We were very fortunate in coming upon a herd before we had tramped more than a couple of miles, and, after some exciting stalking, managed to bag three. During our tramp that morning a curious incident occurred. I pointed out a large baboon to Bokari and said: “ See—Bokari’s brother.” This stupendous coruscation, probably due to the heat, seemed to touch Bokari’s sense of the ridiculous in an extremely ticklish spot. He was simply convulsed with laughter, and rolled ig over and over on the grass while I stood by and began to feel the discomfort of a joker whose joke is being too lengthily appreciated. When he returned to Roballang he spread the un among his fellows with the same stupendous effect. With one decisive thrust I had established a reputation for humour. Now I am _ the accredited mirth-provoker to a large district in our Sierra Leone Protectorate, and live in a thousand dusky and delighted hearts. When Rollit saw my antelopes his disgust reached its final stage and his face assumed all the misery of a liver-pill advertisement. With a few deft strokes he luridly described the West African bush and told me just what he thought about'it. Then he began to pack. Our holiday was now fast drawing to a close. *THe' hippo head, which ought to have been thoroughly boiled to cleanse it, had now acquired what may be termed a distinct individuality. ‘THE GREAT DUG-OUT RACE—THE COMPETITORS IN DIFFICULTIES, 399 It completely dominated the essential odours of the village; so we mounted it on a pair of boughs and sent it off on the return journey a trifle ahead of us. We varied the itinerary of our homeward journey and, cutting across country to a village called Mabile, came down the Rokel River. Here, on one occasion, we arranged dug-out races, manning the boats with crews that were manifestly too numerous. . The rowers started about a hundred yards from the shore, and were to embark, cross the river, and return. The snap-shots reproduced give two stages of the result. The river hereabout is quite free from alligators, as can be deduced from the laughing features of the negroes. We arrived in Freetown on a Saturday morn- ing, and as Rollit had invited me to come straight on to his house I sent my boy to engage a room [ Photograph. in X——’s hotel (the proprietor is a very amiable German) and told him to deposit my impedi- menta there. ‘The hippo head for the moment quite escaped my attention. Next morning I turned up at the hotel and at once went to my room. No sooner had I reached the corridor on to which it opened than I became aware of something very familiar. It was my hippo head, and, to tell the truth, it was asserting itself with a species of morbid egotism. That confounded boy of mine had brought it into my bedroom and left it there. I opened the door and rushed towards the windows. Reaching them without fainting, I threw them wide open. For ten minutes I leaned out in an agony, wondering in what way I could deodorize the room. A brilliant idea struck me. I cut a length of rope from one of my packages, secured the head with it, and let it down from one of the windows into the open

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400 & From a) street. There it swung like the bulb of a mighty pendulum, while an astonished crowd lazily watched from below. At first I sat on the bed with the rope tied round my leg and wiped the perspiration from my brow. On second thoughts I considered this an undig- nified position, and, untying the rope from my leg, attached it to the leg of the bed. It wasa great relief, and I was just beginning to regain my composure when a confused hubbub of voices in the corridor reached my ear. A loud knock on my bedroom door followed ; it was . the proprietor. He had come, he said, to “palaver” with mg with’ regard to the peculiar odour which he had at last tracked to my room. It was a delicate subject, but he was constrained to broach it from a “ pizness” point of view. All his guests were leaving his hostelry on account of the state of the drains. Behind him an excitable Frenchman was holding forth in declamatory style to a group of astonished residents. He demon- strated most clearly that I was a fugitive from justice, and was attempting to hide a corpse in my room. He had built a sort of Eugene Sue romance about me, and under his command a band of sturdy adventurers had followed in the wake of the proprietor with the firm intention of speedily bringing me to the hangman’s rope. “Ah, mon Dieu, ze smell of ze vife’s corpse !” exclaimed the Frenchman. “Teufel!” replied the proprietor, “it is ver’ bad; but, mine vriend, vill you let me eggsblain mit my guest the cause of the evvluvium ?” “Ze vife’s corpse !” roared the Gaul. “Corpse, is it?” I burst out in a paroxysm of fury, and with a few dexterous heaves I brought the hippo skull into the fighting-line. A faint a a THE PINISH OF THE GREAT DUU-UUT KACE. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. cheer greeted its drama- tic disappearance from the street. . “Ach! Himmel! Donnerwetter! Teufel!” groaned the proprietor, and he at once lit a cigar. “Diable! Peste! Zut !” roared the French- man, and he decamped forthwith. There was nothing left todo but make a clean breast of it, and I at once explained to the proprietor that the mis- take had occurred through the stupidity of my boy. There were marked expressions of disappointment on the faces of the romantic section as they listened to my simple story. As a fitting conclusion, my trophy was removed to an outhouse and there packed with straw in a stout case. When the English boat arrived I hurried my treasure on board and saw it safely stowed in the hold. It was a thrilling time, for the skull was slowly but surely obtaining the mastery over the packing-case. Foolishly I deemed my troubles were to end here. Hardly had we put to sea when the passengers whose cabins abutted on the hold began to complain bitterly of the odour of the cargo. During the whole of the voyage home I lived in mortal dread that my secret would be exposed and my dearly-bought treasure consigned to the depths of the briny. And in this matter Rollit showed himself in his true colours. He sneakingly followed me about all over the ship, and, with a malignant smile playing about his hatchet face, would croak :— “Tl give the show away.” Whenever he felt thirsty he would come up and lead me away to the saloon like a sheep to the shambles. There he would blackmail me for endless whiskies and sodas. The thing was monstrous, but what could Ido? I would sooner have thrown all the passengers overboard than my hippo head. Yet when I think over it calmly I feel that the treasure was worth the price, for nowadays, whenever Rollit has occasion to visit me, he sees that monumental head in my hall. Then a curious change comes over him; the merriment dies from his eyes, his jaw drops and hangs helplessly, and he squeaks in a peevish way, “You know, Forsythe, it’s really my hippo head.” —— aa (Photograph,

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i A Ride to Remember. By James Simpson. A broncho “ buster’s” story, telling of a fight for mastery between man and horse, of a disastrous gallop across the prairie, of the broncho’s end, and of the days and nights of horror that ensued for the man. HE experience which I am about to narrate is by no means an isolated one. Many men have met with greater mishaps and lived to tell the tale, but the story may go to show Wipe Wor Lp readers something of the seamy side of a cattleman’s life, and give a slight insight into the conditions under which he lives and often dies. In the spring of the year 1889 I found myself in San Francisco looking for something to do, having worked my passage over from Australia ina German barque. Things were bad in the city, and as I had no desire to waste my little capital in keeping myself in idleness I’ determined that some work or other must be found, and quickly, too. power - = I was stopping in a modest hotel near the Chinese quarter, and there encountered the Jate “ Johnnie” Kane, at that time the champion broncho “ buster” of the States, who was spend- ing, the winter in ’Frisco until the coming of the summer enabled him to return to his busi- ness amongst the horse ranches of Nebraska, Dakota, and Texas. Broncho “ busting,” I may Vol. xx.—81. explain, is breaking in the half-wild horses pre- . paratory to their being sent to market, and is undertaken by men who journey from ranch to ranch, where they break the horses at so much per head. A horse-breaker’s life in this country is not devoid of risk, but out West it teems with ~ excitement and adventure, as can be readily understood when it is explained that on many -of the large ranches the horses are bred on the prairie, and from the time they are foaled until they are handed over to the tender mercies of the broncho “ busters ” they often only see men twice a year—at the spring and fall “round-ups,” when they are driven in from the prairie and branded, and drafted into lots for breaking. The usual age for “busting” bronchos is about two and a half years, and, the job is by ‘me te Re. ; Gy ee BEANE aie net 1 whihtnd »! EMS, THE AUTHOR, MR. JAMES SIMPSON—IN THE BACKGROUND OF THE PHOTOGRAPH IS A TYPICAL MOB OF BRONCHOS, AMONG WHICH IS THE HORSE THAT THREW MR. SIMPSON, ¢ no means an easy one, for a horse that has never known saddle or bridle, and has been accustomed from birth to the free life of the prairies, does not take kindly to having a bit in his mouth and the weight of a man on his back. Broncho “busters” are not, as a general rule, a long-lived class. The work is trying in the extreme, and accidents are frequent. The

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402 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. demand for their services, therefore, often exceeds the supply, or did at the time of which I am writing. Now I had been boundary riding on a sheep station in Australia for some months, and flat- tered myself I could sit anything on four legs. Although I was not yet eighteen I was a big fellow for my age, and two years and a half in the Australian bush had hardened me con- siderably and given me no small degree of con- fidence in myself. So when it was suggested that I should join Kane in working the ranches, T readily fell in with the idea, and as soon as the advent of spring permitted it we started off on our round, We worked several of the Texan ranches, doing well and meeting with no mis- haps, and about the end of June reached the “Cross T’s ranch, situated about sixty-three miles to the west of North Platte, Nebraska. It was here that I met with the adventure which effec- tually terminated my career as a broncho “buster” and all but cost me my life. We had about a hundred and eighty bronchos to “ bust,” and as we were paid by the head we naturally got through the work as quickly as possible, for every horse “passed” by the ranch overseer meant five dollars to our credit. Up to the time of reaching the Cross T’s ranch my partner had been taking the first turns at the bronchos, leaving me to finish their education, and thus I had not hitherto en- countered a broncho at his worst. Kane used to ride each of them for about half an hour on three days, and then I would take them over for the same time for the next three, to finish them off. By this division of labour we were able to “bust” and “finish” some fifteen to twenty horses a day. On our third day at the Cross T’s Johnnie met with a slight mishap by being crushed against the side of the drafting pen, which laid him up for a day or two, and consequently before he was in the saddle again I had finished off the “roughs” and was idle pending his recovery. Time was money with us, for we had a big contract to take on some seventy miles away, and so I determined to waste no time, but go on “roughing” myself. I must explain here the method in use in “busting” the bronchos. At the “round-up” the horses are selected by the ranch overseer, and are driven into a large corral, or pen, often some fifteen or twenty acres in extent, where they remain until the arrival of the “busters,” who rope and throw them one at a time, get a saddle and bridle on them, and pro- ceed to “rough” them. When a horse has lived a perfectly unrestrained life for some two and a half or three years he naturally does not take kindly to the handling of the “ buster,” and makes violent endeavours to “buck” the un- accustomed weight off his back. Failjng in this, his favourite trick is to attempt to lie down and roll him off. Finding this useless, for one can always prevent a horse rolling by using the spurs, he generally careers round the corral, “ bucking ” for all he is worth, At length, tired out and trembling in every limb, he is unsaddled and turned loose till the next day, when the process is repeated until he is utterly subdued and passed by the ranch over- seer as rideable. As I have said before I had not so far done anything except “finish” the horses Kane had ridden three or four times, but this fateful day I started off to do a little “busting ” on my own account. The horses were penned in a corral in front of the ranch and, after being “ roughed,” were drafted into another enclosure. As I made no pretence of being an expert at the game, 1 preferred ,having a somewhat larger area to work in, so I got some of the ranch “boys” to drive a few of the horses into a large pen on the extreme left of the ranch. I got through the work with the first four or five very creditably, I flattered myself; but the next horse I tackled was a perfect demon. One frequently hears of Malays and other natives “running amok” and going suddenly mad, killing everything they come across. Well, I confidently affirm that this particular broncho “tan amok” just as much as any human being ever did, for he showed a fiendish desire to kick to pieces everything he came near. I managed to stick on his back, however, and prevented him rolling, although only with the utmost difficulty. Every minute he seemed to get more furious at finding his efforts to unseat me fail. Suddenly, after a series of short rushes and plunges, he stopped dead still, in the centre of the corral, quivering in every limb, foam dripping from his mouth and nostrils, and sweat reeking from his heaving, blood-flecked sides. Then, without the slightest warning, he gave a spring forward towards the fence, and, in spite of all my efforts to pull him up or turn him, cleared it with a bound and made off at full gallop for the open country. At first I thought nothing of it, “feeling sure that he would soon tire and I should be able to turn him towards the ranch again, but as mile after mile passed and he showed no signs of lessening his speed I determined to stop him or bring him round and head him for home by some means or other. I therefore started pull- ing at my curb rein for all I was worth. I was using a heavy Mexican bit which, under normal conditions, would have been enough to break

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A RIDE TO REMEMBER. 403 the jaw of a horse, but pull as I would J could not make the slightest effect in the mad rush of my mount. Giving a somewhat sharper tug than before, the rein suddenly parted in my hand, and before I could recover it the two broken ends were hanging from his mouth, and I realized that I was indeed in a pretty plight. My snaffle was of no use whatever, and, freed from the restraint of the curb, the broncho— which I am convinced was mad—rushed along faster than ever. Mile after mile we covered, everything happen that..almost before I realized it I was pinned down underneath a dead horse —his neck had been broken by the fall— unconscious from the shock. How long I remained so I cannot tell exactly, but it-must have been some hours ; for when I came to myself dusk was falling, and it was early in the afternoon when my mad ride had com- menced. For a few minutes after coming to my senses I remained motionless ; for I was feeling very sick and my head ached badly. For a little se reteack soreR. “‘THE BRONCHO PUT HIS FOOT INTO A PRAIRIF-DOG HOLE.” and all I could do was to stick on and hope for the best, trusting to Providence to pull me through. I must confess, however, that I was beginning to feel more than a little scared. All of a sudden, when we were, so far as I could guess, some eleven or twelve miles from the ranch, the broncho put his foot into a prairie- dog hole, and, turning a complete somersault, fell on to the top of me, his forefoot still holding fast in the hole. There was no time for me to do anything to save myself, for the American saddles have high peaks, thus rendering it impossible to slip off; and so quickly did while I did not quite realize what had happened. Bit by bit, however, it all came back to me—the struggle in the corral, the mad jump, the furious ride, the awful crash. With remembrance came the realization that I must do something to get back to the ranch, for I had no desire to spend the night alone on the prairie. I tried to pull myself from the dead horse, but sank back with a groan, almost fainting with the pain my move- ment had caused. My left leg was beneath the horse and was broken just below the knee, my right arm had twisted under me and was smashed about eight inches above the wrist, and from the

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404 THE: WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. pain in my left side I realized that my ribs were injured—it turned out afterwards that three of them were broken. I think I fainted again then, but do not know for certain, for I lay still for some time trying to review the position and to form some plan of escape. I was hungry and thirsty, for I had eaten nothing since morning, and I felt feverish with the pain of my injuries. Thus I ruminated, planning some means of escape. Luckily I had my heavy hunting knife in its sheath at my side, and so I commenced to cut myself free from the weight pinning me down. As the horse had turned over I had fallen to the left and my right leg was held fast by the peak of the saddle. So, dragging myself up into a sitting position, I started to hack this away as best I could. Of course I had to use my left hand, and so it took me some hours before I had cut through enough of the leather and wood frame to enable me to drag my wounded limb free, and when at last I had done so I lost consciousness again. The young moon was high in the heavens before I came to my senses once more and saw that I was free at last, but with consciousness came the thought of my terrible position. I was alone on the open prairie, crippled, without food or water, and, as near as I could make: . out, some twelve or more miles from the nearest human habitation! How was I to reach it, maimed and helpless as I was? How was I to exist until help reached me? I tried to think, to formulate some plan, but the more I thought the more I realized the utter hopeless- ness of my plight. I knew that the “ boys ” at the ranch would wonder at my non-appearance, but doubtless, from the direction the horse had taken, they would think I had reached the Scouts’ Rest ranch, twenty-seven miles off, and was passing the night there, and so they would make no search for me before the next day. Doubtless by:the time they found me I should be dead, for it takes days and sometimes weeks to find a man lost on those rolling prairies. What was I to do? As I thought of plan after plan I heard a sound coming down the wind which froze the marrow in my bones. It was the howl of a prairie wolf, answered by another and yet another ; they were out hunting in packs. ‘Though my sojourn in the West had been short, I knew enough about wolves to understand that, although they will hesitate to attack a man in broad daylight in small numbers, they are savage in the extreme when encountered in large packs at night, and in my helpless condition what was I.to do to defend myself from them? Nearer and nearer came the sound. If I was going to do anything I must do it quickly. If only I could get away from the body of the horse doubtless I could escape them, but how could I move, shattered as I was? I could but try, however; so, digging my elbows in the ground, I managed to drag myself a few feet, only to collapse exhausted with the agony of the effort. I talked to myself angrily, telling myself that this display of weakness would not do. “Pull yourself together! Be a man. Bite on the bullet,” I said. Bite on the bullet! Happy idea! It would help me to keep my mouth shut when I felt like shrieking with pain. Drawing a cartridge from my revolver, I placed the lead between my teeth and started off again in the direction in which I knew the ranch lay and, luckily, down the wind, away from the advancing wolves. Inch by inch and foot by foot I dragged myself along, suffering such agony as I trust may never fall to my lot again, while the howling of the wolves came nearer and nearer every minute. I suppose I had managed to traverse about a quarter of a mile when a hideous howling and barking sound floated down the wind to me— the wolves had reached the body of the horse ! Would that be enough to satisfy their hunger, and how long would they be before they de- voured it? I dragged myself on again, fear giving me strength to bear the pain every move- ment brought, until I reached a dried-up water- course a -few feet wide and about eighteen or twenty inches deep. It was with the greatest difficulty that I managed to cross this, and I fainted when I hauled myself up the other side. In my unconsciousness I seemed to dream. I was at a dance at home, my friends all round me, and the fun in full swing. Suddenly every- thing was changed. The ballroom faded out, my partner’s face became the grinning head of a wolf, and all the dancers seemed to vanish before my eyes. I could see the hideous red jaws, dripping saliva and blood, could smell the fetid breath and feel it on my cheek. TI struggled to break the spell which bound me and awoke to consciousness—to find a wolf within a few feet of me, standing motionless on the opposite bank of the watercourse, showing - like a silhouette against the sky-line. They had tracked me down! Well, I’d make a fight for it, at any rate. With as little movement as possible I drew my revolver—a six-chambered self-extracting Smith and Wesson of ‘44 calibre—and, opening my cartridge-belt, waited for the attack. It was not long in coming. Suddenly the big dog-wolf lifted his head and sniffed deep and long. He had winded me. Another moment, I knew, and the pack would be down on my heels.

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A RIDE TO REMEMBER. : 405 “ALL NIGHT LONG THE WOLVES PROWLED ROUND ME Dragging myself round until I faced the water. course, I steadied myself against a little heap of stones and earth and, sighting carefully, fired at him just as he threw back his head to howl. The howl was choked in his throat, for I hit him fair and square and he toppled over dead. This success gave me confidence, and I began to think that after all I might beat them off, and I knew that if I could only hold my own till daylight they would be sure to retreat. How I lived through that night I do not know. I do not, indeed, care to think of it, for, even though all these years have passed, it will ever remain a most ghastly memory with me. All night long the wolves prowled round me, their long, gaunt bodies showing clear against the sky, their yellow eyes gleaming like twinkling points of fire. Every now and then some of them would sit down and watch me, and I nearly went mad with the terror of it. I knew that I must brace myself up, for were I to lose con- sciousness again they would be on me in a moment. So the long night passed, and at last day broke and the watchers slunk off. With the day came the pangs of hunger and thirst. As the sun climbed higher and higher I began to feel the agony of thirst with all its tortures, but still I dragged myself painfully and slowly along, fainting time after time and losing the sense of suffering in a merciful oblivion. I had to mark most carefully where I moved, for the prairie abounded with rattlers and copper-head snakes, and a bite from either of these would, I knew, mean certain death. All day long I struggled onwards, and towards nightfall came toa sort of cave in the side of a break in the prairie. Into this I crept, blocking the entrance with loose stones and earth. That night I slept from sheer exhaustion—indeed, from the time I crept into my shelter until I recovered conscious- ness, nearly a fortnight later, I remembered nothing, for my brain gave way under the strain, and, though I still continued to struggle on in my delirium, I have no recollection whatever of it, or of being found. I have a sort of hazy idea of hearing voices, but could not piece the

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“a few hours. 406 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. words together. It was many weeks afterwards, when I was well on the way to convalescence, that I heard the true facts of my rescue. It seems that when the horse bolted with me the “boys” at the ranch went on with their duties in the ordinary way, expecting me to turn up in When night fell without my arriv- ing, they decided that I had gone on to Scouts’ Rest ranch and was spending the night there. It was only when about midday John V. Nelson, one of the Scouts’ Rest men—who, by the way, could ride for a doctor. When we reached the ranch they set my limbs as best they could in bandages and clay. The bone of my leg had torn a hole through the flesh and was sticking out an inch or more, and the bullet on which I had bitten was firmly wedged between my teeth. So fast, indeed, was it fixed that they chipped my teeth in freeing it to give me water. When the doctor reached the ranche he at first proclaimed my condition hopeless, and was for letting me die in peace; but ultimately, “IT WAS MY FAITHFUL OLD BULLDOG, GIRLIE, WHO FIRST DISCOVERED ME," guided Brigham Young and the Mormon exiles across the great desert when they founded Salt Lake City—arrived, that they learnt I was not there. A search party was instantly got together and they commenced beating the prairie to find me, ultimately discovering me at ten o'clock on Thursday morning about ten miles from the ranch. It was my faithful old bulldog, Girlie, who first discovered me and drew the searchers to where I lay, raving in delirium, in the long prairie grass nearly a mile and a half from where the remains of my horse were found. Tenderly they carried me back to the ranch, one of the “boys” posting off to North Platte as hard as he yielding to the persuasions of my friend Jimmy Hardie, who said, “Well, doc, if the boy dies he’s going'to die a whole man,” he set the broken bones, and, after a tough struggle with death, nursed me back to reason and life. It was eleven weeks from the time of my accident ‘till I put my foot to the ground, and over a year before I rode a horse again. How I am alive to tell the tale I do not know, for I left the ranch on the Tuesday afternoon and was out on the prairie till the Thursday morning, whilst the doctor did not reach me till the early hours of Saturday. But here I am, alive and well, with only a slight occasional lameness to remind me of my broncho “ busting ” adventure.

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Fish-Spearing by Firelight. By A. PitcairN-KNOWLES. An account of the ancient and wonderfully picturesque “‘péche aux flambeaux,” which is still carried on in certain parts of the Mediterranean. ROM prehistoric times those who pursue the fisherman’s craft, either for pleasure or profit, have made use of the spear as a means of capturing their quarry. The earliest form of weapon used was naturally of primitive construction, and anyone who examines one of these ancient harpoons ‘and spears, made from animal and human bones or sharp-edged stones, with blunt, cumbrous points, will be amazed at the skill displayed by the ancients in fishing with such unpromising implements. In spite of the march of progress fish-spear- ing has, in Common with many old-time usages and customs, held its own up to the present time. To-day, however, the gear employed by those who still cling to such modes of procedure differs greatly from the crude implements used for the same purpose in the dim ages of the past ; the antediluvian-looking instruments with prongs of stone or bone, destitute of regular forms, have been re- placed by something more worthy of our age. But the fact that in most European countries the use of weapons of this kind forthe purpose of fish- ing is in opposition to the law causes the devotees of fish-spear- ing to follow theircall- ing in remote places well out of sight of prying eyes. Thus, except in parts where fish-spearing is per- mitted as a legitimate occupation, the tra- veller rarely gets a glimpse of this quaint method of capturing the denizens of the deep. In the sunny South, how- ever, in the blue waters of the Mediterranean, one may frequently behold the strange sight of fishermen reaping a rich harvest with the aid of a long, fork-like instrument, which is used in place of a net. ‘There the ancient “péche aux flambeaux”—a singular custom of fishing at night by the light of a blazing fire—still exists, enabling hundreds of hardy toilers of the deep to gain a livelihood. rs spa aly From a) THE FISHERMAN KINDLING HIS FIRE IN THE KO} THE BOW OF THE BOAT. Photographs by the Author. In the grey dawn of the morning these industrious men may be seen busying them- selves with their boats, their smoke-begrimed faces, reddened eyes, and clothing punctured with little burnt holes bearing silent testimony to the hard and weary toil they have undergone all night to secure their spoil for the next day’s market. ‘l'heir work is over now for the nonce, and the dawn of day is bringing them their much-longed-for rest. ‘They do not talk, much less do they sing, as the merry, contented fisher- men of the South are wont to do; for the fatigue and anxiety of the previous night have not yet lost their hold upon them. When at night the little boats with their flaming fires become visible from the shore, the fancy of the looker-on unaccustomed to the strange sight is excited; the spectacle looks like a scene from Dante’s “Inferno.” The eye rests with admiring wonder upon the ghost-like figures crouching behind the pile of burning logs and cautiously steer- ing their craft hither and thither in search of likely spots. An irresistible longing to go forth and join those mysterious beings takes posses- sion of one, and even the most matter-of- fact of mortals feels a touch of poetic in- stinct awakening when he sees for the first time the flicker- ing and dancing of the fires upon the peaceful surface of the water. Indeed, it is an impression not easily forgotten. And yet the scene is surrounded with no halo of romance for the poor fisherman. With his head protected from the showering sparks by two hats, worn one on top of the other, he stands behind the blazing fire devoting himself to his hard task, often entirely enveloped in a cloud of smoke, with his eyes smarting and his throat well-nigh scorched. He can relate many an experience of want and anxiety, of bitter disappointment and painful illness, which his exhausting calling brings in its N BRAZIKR FIXED Aq [Photograph

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408 THE WIDE WORLD train, and yet again and again he betakes him- self to his boat in the hope that fickle fortune will favour him with a good catch. ‘The success or failure of the fisherman is not in the power of fortune alone, however, for the result of his toil depends largely upon his own skill, and only he who really knows the knack of handling the peculiar seven-pronged fork can hope to find his efforts rewarded. When in the evening the wind and weather appear sufficiently promising, the two partners in the work set off in their boat, laden with a large heap of fire- wood, for one or another of the fishing-grounds along the coast. Close behind the flaring fire, his form silhouetted against the bright flame, stands the fisherman, with his weapon firmly grasped in his right hand and his gaze fixed steadily upon the water. Silently the boat glides along, the rower wielding his oars with the utmost care, while not a sound escapes from the mouths of the two men, who commu- nicate with one another in From a) MAGAZINE. the language of signs. Only the crackling of the fire and an occa- sional splash break the silence of night. - Suddenly, quick as a flash of lightning, the long spear in the hand of the man at the bow plunges into the depths of the water, and a moment later, as the weapon is with- drawn, a silver-white glistening object is seen jerking and twist- ing convulsively at its point, pierced by the deadly prongs that now hold their victim firmly in their grasp. Again and again the murderous fork plunges downward to work some unsuspect- ing creature’s destruction, as it whisks past the boat within striking distance. All night long the boats ply near the coast, where the rocks fur- nish a place of shelter and abode for shoals of fish. In the clear waters of the Mediterranean ° the artificial light enables the fisherman to search FROM THE LITTLE BOTTLE SEEN SUSPENDED AT THE BOATS BOW OIL IS DROPPED TO CALM THE RIPPLES, (Photograph.

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FISH-SPEARING BY FIRELIGHT. 409 so little fear and alarm that in a single shoal several can be pierced in succession. In some districts the bright light of the open fire, as depicted in our photographs, is re- placed by a lantern, but the method demon- strated in the pictures is said to be the most effective. It was during a visit to one of the numerous islands in the Mediter- ranean that I was given the opportunity for per- sonal observation of the modus operand: of the fish-spearers. By chance I fell into con- versation with a From a} STRIKING AT PASSING FISH. , . Weather - beaten long- shoreman whose occu- the sea to a depth of about four yards, illuminat- _ pation was fishing by firelight, and, having no ing the shallow parts from the surface te the -more pressing interest on hand, I was only too very bottom. Catches of as much as a hundred pounds of fish by one boat in a single night are by no means uncommon, and if the con- ditions are favourable an experienced fisherman may take even double that amount. It sometimes happens, when the fish travel in great shoals, that one thrust will secure several victims simul- taneously. I know of a case in which a fortunate fisherman managed to land thirteen—not very large ones, I will admit —atatime. Frequently, however, mon- strous creatures fall a, prey to the spear, and the fact is worthy of mention that one of the skilful fishermen shown in the accompanying photographs by a well- aimed thrust secured a skate weighing no less than one hundred and twenty pounds. For the widespread idea that fish are attracted by light and, dazzled by its brightness, receive their death-blow with- out making an attempt to escape I found no corroboration. According to the view of the fishermen of the Mediterranean the opposite is the case, and it doubtless requires very great skill to capture the active inhabitants of the ocean with the aid of nothing more than the“fork. True, there are exceptions, such as the lobster, the capture of which presents little diffi- culty ; and certain species of fish show “/yom a} ‘A CATCH, Vol. xx.—52,

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410 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the favour of permitting me to attain at least one success. In the hands of an experienced fisherman, how- ever, the deadly weapon worked wonders, and I was filled with fresh amazement each time I saw the long pole plunged swiftly into the depths, to be withdrawn more often than not laden with spoil. After this demonstration I was more willing ta believe what our escorts had told us, but what we were at the time unable to credit, of such enormous catches as two hundred pounds in one single night. After we had spent some three or four hours trying to catch fish in this quaint fashion, a light breeze sprang up and -began to produce a ripple on the heretofore calm sur- face of the water, causing much annoyance to our professional com- panions, for such disturbance of the surface frustrates the fisherman’s THE METHOD PUKSURD BY THE SHORE-FISHERS WHO DO NOT POSSESS A BOAT. From a Photograph. pleased to accept his invitation to join him in his next fishing excursion. The weather was perfect for the expedition when we set out for the fishing-grounds just before sunset. Not a breath of wind disturbed the peaceful sea, and the setting sun shed its last rays on the black mountain peaks in the background. Until night set in the fishermen entertained us as best they could with their interesting yarns, and gave us a first lesson in the use of the fish-spear ; then, when dense darkness had at length fallen upon us, the wood was set alight in the brazier. Slowly the boat moved along, visiting first one place, now another, while we in turn tried our luck with the spear. For the unpractised eye and untried hand of the beginner it was no easy task to deal the coup de grace two or three yards below the surface of the water, and certainly many a fish which would have fallen a victim to the skill of the profes- sional fisherman was scared away, never to be seen again, by my awk- ward lunges. Only an obliging lobster did me From a) efforts. However, he has a good remedy at hand, which to a certain extent counteracts the effects of the wind—a few drops of oil scattered now and then on the ruffled surface being all that is required to produce the desired calm around the boat. By this simple means he is, in a certain measure, able to get the better of the elements when natural conditions are against nim. On another occasion we were initiated into the mysteries of fishing by firelight on foot. The photographs show the method of working adopted by shore-folk who do not happen to possess a boat. Naturally, the results are not nearly so satisfactory. BRISK SPORT AMONG THE ROCKS, (Photograph.

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A YOUNG SOUDAN GIRAFFE iG bee above photugraph shows a young giraffe which was captured by a contributor to ‘‘CounTRY Lire,” who says: ‘I was cutting a road through the + forest at the time, and it was the advanced party of my men, moving out at dawn, which came on him asleep under a tree and easily secured him. When I arrived he had apparently resigned himself to his fate. My pony, a fat little 13h. Abyssinian, who had in earlier days achieved no mean reputation in giraffe hunts with the Hamran Arabs, snorted with astonishment when he winded him. He was still more astounded when this strange creature, whose species he had been taught only to hunt, began to make ‘istinet overtures of friendship. The giraffe had, in fact, brightened up on seeing another four-footed creature, and in a moment was rubbing noses with the pony, who was, however, still suspicious and disinclined to respond to them. THE STOLIDITY OF A SPANISH CROWD. af Bats stolid, unexcitable nature of a Spanish crowd is very different to that of an English one. I remem- ber once in the blackest part of the West Riding listen- ing to the remarks of a crowd looking over a bridge at two men who were dragging the canal below for a miss- ing bottle-maker. You would not think that so much delicate humour and wit could have been found in all Yorkshire as that which exuded from the comparatively small gathering, and when at last the persevering trawlers brought up a dead dog tied to a large stone, the refined sarcasms that rewarded their best endeavours had the effect of the entire abandonment of any inquiries in the direction of a mud-and-watery grave.—'‘c. B. FRY’S MAGAZINE.” THE MOST PICTURESQUE MAN IN MEXICO. A PICTURESQUE celebrity, in the person of General Porfirio Diaz, President of the Mexican States, is said to be coming on a visit to England next year. The story of his career glitters with genuine and stirring romance. Diaz was originally a common soldier ; but men died quickly in Mexico during the revolutionary wars, and the cleverness, tact, and courageousness of Diaz enabled him to become in turn captain, colonel, general, commander-in-chief, and, lastly, President, in which position he wields greater power over Mexico than THE WIDE WORLD: In Other Magazines. the Czar over Russia or the Kaiser over Germany. But he is a wise ruler, and the many reforms he has Srought about have transformed Mexico from a land of chaos into one of order and prosperity.—“ TIT-BITS.” GERMANY'S “ EMPRESS OF GOODNESS.” ig he the People of Germany the Kaiserin is known as an ‘* Empress of Goodness,” just as the Empress Al ta, wife of William I., was known as an “ Empress of Beauty,” and the Empress Frederick as an “ Empress of Intellect.” Wise in her generation, and profiting by the experiences of her predecessors, the Kaiserin has always kept as studiously aloof from interference in matters political as our own Queen, and her tastes run in the homely. domestic direction that the Emperor and most of his countrymen consider best for all women. Outside her home, her husband, und her children, the serious interests of the Empress lie mainly among the poor and the suffering. —“‘THE LADIES’ FIELD.” . SWISS TREE FOUNTAIN. N extraordinary curiosity is to be seen in the Swiss A village of Gunten, on Lake Thun. It takes the form of a natural tree fountain, the water flowing con- tinuously from a spout high up in the tree. About twenty years ago the water from a spring was conducted through a shaft, and the supply pipe was directed through the cut trunk of a young poplar tree which was rammed in the ound. After a short time the trunk rooted, branches Blowed, and now there'is 4 splendid top growth.— “*WOMAN’S LIFE.” BURMESE CARICATURISTS, VERY year in Burma the Burmese have a festival in which they caricature various professions, trades, and castes. The photograph below represents two Englishwomen as seen by the Burmese. ey ar¢ very ingeniously made of bamboo, stuff, and lace, ‘and are carried by boys, whose legs may be seen protruding from under the skirts. They are about ten feet high, and when seen walking or dancing in the street, to the sound made on the trumpet-shaped drums shown in the photo- graph, the effect is highly amusing to both the English ae Burmese. — Mr. A. F. Warrington, in ‘‘ THE STRAND MAGAZINE.”

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Odds “AND * a A Wrecked Town—A Ship with a History—The “ Healer" of Colorado, etc., etc. rw "WHE town of Essex, in Ontario, was, earth shook, cnly two men were killed outright ; EMH] some months ago, a thriving little | many people were injured, however, and count- y Nu | D i 3 Gi place of some two thousand five less miraculous. escapes were recorded. The Mee) hundred population. At present, damage was estimated at two hundred thousand however, it is recovering from a dollars. The nitro-glycerine, it is thought, fearful catastrophe which befell it on August 10th, dripped upon the rails and was exploded when 1907, when some five thousand pounds of nitro- the car was moved. The car, it is further. glycerine and dynamite, packed in a freight-car alleged, was not properly labelled or of the. standing on a siding, exploded, by some means _ special construction required by the Canadian, unknown. The town was practically wrecked, explosives laws, The striking picture here, but, wonderful to relate, in spite of the fact that reproduced shows the wrecked town just after | stout buildings were torn to shreds and the very _ the explosion. | : me 7 = a I J phe tC a a, ranges | | THIS STRIKING PHOTOGRAPH SHOWS THE TOWN OF ESSEX, ONTARIO, CANADA, AFTER THE EXPLOSION OF FIVE THOUSAND + POUNDS OF DYNAMITE STORED IN A RAILWAY FREIGHT-CAR.

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NN, ODDS AND ENDS. THE LAST PHASE OF THE GREAT ‘ MOHARKAM" FFSTIVA INDIA THE MODELS OF THE SACRED TOMBS INTO THE RIVER, From a Photograph. Our next photograph was taken at Poona, India, on the last day of the “ Moharram,” a Mohammedan feast held during the first ten days of February in memory of the grandsons of the Prophet. These martyrs are held in great veneration, and their anniversary festival is kept as a period of mourning. Huge repre- sentations of their tombs are borne through the streets, the crowd beating drums and chanting the saints’ names meanwhile. The models of the tombs—which are often thirty feet high and very elaborate in design—are constructed of bamboo, talc, and other substances, and liberally ornamented with gold and silver paper. On the ninth day they are carried with much ceremony to the nearest river and there thrown in. The one seen in our photograph was hurled from the Sungum Bridge at Poona, and upwards of forty others were Ff destroyed on the same occasion. With reference to the article on “The ‘Killers’ of Twofold Bay,” which appeared in our September number, a correspondent writes: “A curious circumstance has re- cently come to my notice which may not prove uninteresting to WIDE Wor LD readers. The initi- ator of the whaling industry in Twofold Bay, on the coast of New South Wales, appears to have been one Benjamin Boyd, and, strangely enough, a small schooner bearing that uncommon name came to grief in Cardiff Roads some few months ago. Upon looking up this vessel’s record I find that she was built at From a Photo. by} 413 Manning River, New South Wales, in the year 1844, so that little doubt exists in my mind that the Benjamin Boyd mentioned in your article must have been the original owner of this little craft. That a vessel of only ninety-nine tons register should have made the voyage of some fourteen thousand miles to Old England, probably with a valu- able cargo of the produce of the ceta- ceous chase, speaks well for the intrepid navigators. As to when she made this voyage and whether it was repeated, I am unable to say, but for some years she has been sailing around our coasts, picking up a living for her owners and crew. That she was so soundly con- structed as to brave the winds and waves for these sixty odd years does credit to her builders—shipwright emi- grants, no doubt, who have long since joined the majority. Alas! the career of the old: craft herself is now also finished. Some months ago, whilst off Penarth laden with coals and bound for Ireland, she was run into by a steamer, which tore a huge hole in her side, causing her to sink almost immediately. The crew were saved, and ultimately, through the efforts of a local salvage firm, the vessel was raised and brought into dock and her hull sold for a few pounds. I send you a photograph of this old craft as she now lies in her last berth outside the harbour entrance, where she has been placed, filled with stones, for the purpose of keeping back the watery elements upon whose surface she has for so long floated. The name ‘Ben- jamin Boyd’ can be faintly seen on her stern, over ‘Belfast,’ her late port of registry. The white patch amidships shows the canvas nailed (R. 7. Dunn. A SHIP WITH AN INTERESTING HISTORY.

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414 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. s over the enormous hole made by the steamer, and fixed there by the divers before she could be raised.” Church services in this country are often punctuated by the announcement of coming marriages, but how would ‘you like your engage- ment to be proclaimed in the public street for all and sundry to hear about and comment upon? Yet that is what happens in Switzerland. If you are engaged to be married, you must not merely suffer it to become known by a notice pinned up in some obscure registrar’s office, where it is seldom seen, but you must be prepared to have it posted in the full blaze of sunlight on the front of the municipal building, as shown in the photograph below, where the thousands of people continually passing are able to see it and stop to read it. With the significant’ heading, “‘ Acte de Promesse de Mariage,” the great document goes on ‘to. state that there has been a “promise of marriage” between two parties ; then follow the names of the affianced, the profession or calling of each, their place of ‘birth, date of birth (no good the lady trying to hide her age!), name of parents, where they were born and when, and what they do fora living, etc. To judge by the number of notices on view at one time, as shown by the photo- graph, this proclamation of details on the house-top does not deter the doughty Swiss from entering into matrimony. From a Photo. by W. H. Knowles, t It : i a | “THE HEALER,” A REMARKANLE COLORADO CHARACTER WHO WAS POPULARLY CREDITED WITH SUPERNATURAL POWERS. From a Photograph. Here is the photograph of a remarkable man, known as the “Healer,” who lived for many years amongst the deserts and mountains of the Far West, and was popularly credited with supernatural powers. The reader who sends thepicturestatesthat he certainly cured many people in Denver, Color- ado, of various diseases and ailments by simply touching them, as he has good reason for knowing ; and it is a positive fact that the man went entirely without food forfour weeks atatime. This is the only photograph that has been taken of him. Many other photographers tried to “take” him, but on deve- loping thé negatives his head always cameout “like a ball of light.” The “Healer” disappeared quite suddenly when visit- ing Denver (Colorado), and has never since beer seen or heard of.

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NS a SLi ee a ee ae es ODDS AND ENDS. 415 The subject of our next illustration, though it might be taken for a freak summer- house, is not by any means a very un- common type of human dwelling in some parts of the Philippines. Long experience has taught the aborigines the manifold dangers of sleeping on the ground, where the low-hanging malarial mist holds deadly sway. Inacountry, too, where venomous snakes, tarantulas, and all kinds of un- pleasant creeping animals and insects are in such numbers, it has been found that the best protection is obtained by building the huts either on raised stakes or in trees, like the one here shown. An aerial lodging is also an effectual safeguard against the nac- turnal raid of some prowling enemy. The queer-looking structure shown in the lower photograph is a temple belonging \ to a little-known tribe called the Todas, 4 who live in the fastnesses of the Nilgherry Hills, in South India. The religion of these people is very peculiar, being mixed up in some curious way with their dairy buffaloes, who are worshipped as sacred, c—__-— — a & TREE-TOP DWELLING IN THR PHILIPPINES. From a Photo. by N. P. Edwards, the priest being a kind of milkman. Only the priest is allowed to enter the temple, and the entrance is so small that he has to literally scrape through, leaving his only garment behind him. The tribe have many peculiar customs, but is believed to be fast dying out. The curious photograph reproduced on the next page shows an ostrich at the Materiah Ostrich Farm, near Cairo, This particular bird is named the “Howling Dervish,” as, at a word of command from its keeper, it will sit down in the extraordinary way seen in the picture and wave its head and body wildly to and fro, in exact imitation of the religious eer ie WORSHTE nap, SOUTHERN INDIA —THESE sect known as the “Howling Dervishes.” It con- PROPLE WORSHIP THRIR DAIRY BUFFALOES | 65 - yO mee From a Photograph. tinues this performance until given permission to stop.

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416 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. It is doubfful whether anyone else has hitherid succeeded in teaching an ostrich to do anything of the kind, as, rightly or wrongly, the bird enjoys a reputation for stupidity. With reference to the article on “ Derelict Railways” which appeared in our October issue, the manager of the Mawddwy Railway points out that there are several errors, calculated to give the reader a mistaken impression, in the description of his line. The Mawddwy Railway is not “derelict” and has not been closed, for, although the passenger service has been suspended, the goods and mail traffic has always been regularly maintained. The explanation of the omission of the railway from “ Bradshaw ” is that this work only deals with passenger trains. With regard to the photograph of the passenger coach, this showed a vehicle which has not been used for over twenty years, The striking photographs which accompanied the article on “The Quest of the Sponge” in our November number were kindly lent by Messrs. Cresswell Brothers’ branch of the International Sponge Importers, Ltd., of Red THE “HOWLING DERVISI(,” AN OSTRICH WHICH HAS BEEN TRAINED Lion Square, W.C., who also furnished much of BY ITS KEEVER TO GO THROUGH SOME EXTRAORDINARY ANTICS. the information upon which the paper was based. From a Photograph. tt - ys Qu 300000 MuzsWaux 4 iG. A. 7 Z teow t ‘THROUGH THE A as) p’ Ji HEART OF CHINA RENAMING A NATION ROBBERY IN Rue ScriBe Just in TIME ™~ rs & * f. SEAREA FOR ‘ % fee Lee ‘. 4 Mission Gop” 5 t CoRRUCKPORE ‘ A RIDE To REMEMBER 4 cr Mencur A %eeFop Dwelling _ Caucn By CLoup-Burst THE MAP-CONTENTS OF “THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE,” WHICH SHOWS AT A GLANCE THE LOCALITY OF EACH ARTICLE AND NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURE IN THIS NUMBER,

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“JOHNNY’S JUMP HAD EFFECTIVELY BROKEN THE LINE.” (SER PAGE 423.)

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THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XX. MARCH, 1908. ; No. 119. The Madness of Don Patricio. By Joun S. PuRcELL. The amazing story of a father’s self-sacrifice. His only boy was ordered to the wars, and to save him his parent, after trying in vain to take his place, deliberately endeavoured to throw away his own life in order that, as a widow's son, the lad might be exempt from service ! The climax of the affair was dramatic in the extreme. COUPLE of years ago I wrote in Tue Wipe Wor-Lp Macazine about |} some of the adventures which befell me in South America whilst acting " as editor of a daily newspaper in Bahia Blanca, Argentina. At the time I had it in my mind to tell of an adventure of which a upon to join the National Guard on the eve of a revolution in 1890. O’Grady saw a look of abject fear on his boy’s face as he read the official notice, and knew him at once to be a coward. But he found ready excuse for him. John, born in a thunderstorm so violent that the very earth trembled, came into the world a fellow - countryman of mine was the hero, but was prevented from doing so by the pressure of other work. A more ap- propriate occasion has arisen, however, for Pat- rick O’Grady, the hero in question, is now no more. Curiously enough, I hap- pened to have been think- ing of him at the very moment when the Buenos Ayres newspaper contain- ing an announcement of his death came to hand. I knew Pat O’Grady — or, as he was generally called, Don Patricio — very well, and I was a witness of the final scene in the Plaza of Bahia Blanca as here described. What I did not know of the earlier events I month before his time, and until half-way on in his teens was a very delicate lad. During the last couple of years, however, his strength had wonderfully developed and his health improved, but the original sin of cowardice still remained. The following day O’Grady rode into Bahia Blanca and had an inter- view with the colonel of the regiment. He repre- sented to this officer that John O’Grady was very delicate and would make a bad soldier, and offered to serve in his place. The colonel willingly enough agreed to take both of them, but he laughed at the notion of exchanging heard more than once ATTEMPTED TO SACRIFICE HIS OWN LIFE IN ORDER from ., the mouths of THAT HIS BOY, AS A WIDOW'S ONLY SON, SHOULD BE his wife and his son, EXEMPT FROM MILITARY SERVICE. so that in the follow- Prone a Eisieead ts ing pages I may almost claim verbal as well as intrinsic accuracy. The trouble arose when O’Grady’s son John, who was born in Argentina, and, therefore, liable to compulsory military service, was called Vol. xx.—53. PATRICK O'GRADY, OTHFRWISE ‘‘DON PATRICIO,” WHO a youth of twenty, accus- tomed to arms, for a man of sixty who could not fire a shot. Paddy was in despair. If he succeeded in getting the boy out of the country he would not be allowed to return, and he would lose, more- over, the succession to the four hundred hectares of land which had been purchased by many years of cheerful toil. In the natural course of

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420 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. things, Paddy expected to die many years before his comparatively young wife, who was as healthy as himself, and the land and the boy formed the only legacy he would be able to leave her. The boy gone, the land would be of little use, so, if only for Winnie’s sake, her son must be saved. “If he were gone, an’ I gone, sure, the craythur would have nothin’ at all,” mused Paddy. And if John ever reached a battlefield, his father knew that the chances of his coming out alive were very remote. Granting that he sur- Then his great idea came to him. He remembered that according to the law of the country the only son of a widow could not be forced into active service, so that his own life was the sole obstacle that stood between Winnie and her future happiness and prosperity. The solution once suggested, Paddy faced the situa- tion boldly.“ From the first he resolved that the sacrifice should be made, but the problem was how to make away with himself without exciting suspicion ; how to ensure the future of those he loved without leaving any bitterness behind. There was another consideration, too, tr — “HE TOOK TO HUNTING OSTRICHES, RIDING AT FULL SPRED OVER GROUND POCK-MARKED WITH SKUNK AND ARMADILLO HOLES.” vived the first volley from the enemy, his own comrades would, the moment after, shoot him for cowardice. O’Grady knew the Gauchos, and could not allow himself to hope anything from their mercy. which Paddy O’Grady, as a good Catholic, could not for a moment lose sight of—the eternal doom in store for those who wilfully took their own lives. The catechism he had learned as a boy declared in very emphatic language that it

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THE MADNESS OF DON PATRICIO. 421 was not lawful to tell a lie, even for a good purpose ; how much less lawful, then, would it be to take one’s life for a good purpose! This was a point of view he had to keep out of sight as much as possible, or, he said, it would make a coward of him. Winnie had given her young life to him, and filled every day with happiness ; he would give his old life to her, and. keep sorrow and poverty away door. He jumped from the bed and stretched out his hand for his clothes, but they were not where he left them. Day had not yet dawned, so he struck a light and searched. His clothes were nowhere to be found. He opened the wardrobe with the intention of getting his uniform, but that, too, was gone. So was his rifle, so was, his best suit; and the only man’s garment he could find in from her. the house was an old pair He devoted the next day to putting his few private affairs in order, inciden- tally showing John where he kept the title-deeds of the lands and the receipts from the Banco Hipote- cario, showing that the mortgage had been en- tirely paid off. Then he took to hunting ostriches, riding at full speed over ground pock-marked with skunk and armadillo holes, so that a single. mistake on the part of the horse might of torn dombachos — wide knee- breeches — belonging to his father. These he put on, and opened the door. The dog, an Irish setter, and his father’s favourite, continued his whining, and Johnny was seized with a_ troubled curiosity which made him for a moment forget his own hard fate. Presently he heard his mother’s voice calling out, ‘‘ Paddy!” “Is he not there, mother?” asked Johnny, mean the rider’s life. But the horses made no mis- JOHN O'GRADY, WHOSE COWARDICK INDUCED HIS FATHER TO TRY AND TAKE HIS SON'S PLACE IN THE going to the door of her No, no. I think he takes, and Paddy had to seek some other way of getting killed —not of killing himself. Just then he heard of a neighbour who lived twenty miles away getting knocked down by sunstroke, and Paddy took this as a hint. He, too, would get sunstroke, lose his head, run amuck amongst the soldiers, threaten the life of the colonel, and as a consequence get conveniently shot. Winnie would mourn for him a while, and so would Johnny, but they would soon find consolation for his “happy release” from a life of insanity in the fact that he had met a speedy and pain- less end. So Paddy had sunstroke, and began at once to do the strangest things, allowing him- self, however, some lucid intervals which only went to emphasize his “ madness.” As the day approached when his son had to present himself before the colonel at Bahia Blanca, Paddy’s manner grew stranger than ever. One of his conceits was that on the day of the sunstroke forty years were knocked off his age, and he was now a youth of twenty about to start for the wars. He got Johnny to show him how to shoot and drill, and, considering the mental affliction under which he was suffering, the progress he made was wonderful. The morning of the very day on which Johnny O'Grady had to report himself for service the young man was awakened earlier than usual by the persistent whining of one of the dogs at the From a Photograph, must have been up a long time, but I didn’t hear him go out.” Her voice shook as with the fear of an im- pending tragedy, and in another moment she was outside, peering anxiously over the plains. A faint, weird light began to appear in the east ; a belt of steely cloud above the rim of the horizon was gradually turning to red, as_ if heated in a furnace. But beyond the cattle no living creature was to be seen. “ Mother, he has taken my rifle and uniform,” said the lad, no longer able to.control his fears, “and I should not be surprised ——” He was interrupted by a piteous whine from the dog. Looking closer at the animal, Johnny saw that it bore the mark of a whip, applied with no light hand about the snout and ear. “Oh, mother,” cried the lad in desperation, “he never intends to come home again. He’s beaten back poor Sancho, and to do that his heart must be broken !” The faithful dog appeared anxious to lead them somewhere, and, giving him the sign to show the way, mother and son _ followed. Sancho stopped at a v/scacho warren and stood in front of a hole beneath a ledge of saltpetre rock. In a few minutes Johnny brought forth his own and his father’s clothes—everything that was missing save the rifle and uniform of the National Guard. For some time young John

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422 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. OGrady had had a half suspicion of the truth ; now he knew, but for the moment held his peace. When they got back to the house he went through his father’s pockets, searching for he knew not what. The only thing he found was a small piece of paper, which had evidently been well thumbed by dirty fingers, and as surely eagerly read. This was a cutting from the Buenos Ayres Standard, which, amongst other things, explained that the only son of a widow was, under the existing law, exempt from active military service. If Johnny O’Grady had not seen the whole truth before, he saw it now. His face turned pale with a great dread and his hands trembled, but the fear this time was not for himself. “ Read that, mother,” he. exclaimed, handing her the paper. ‘The madness was only a cloak to deceive you and me. He has gone to take my place, and, if they won’t have him, to get himself shot. He wants you to be a widow, mother, so that I can remain with you. But what am I compared with him? A thousand lives such as mine could not make up for the loss of his. Oh, my dear, brave, generous old father !” Winnie O’Grady seemed as one turned to stone ; the light left her bright eyes, the blood seemed to have stopped still in her veins. Johnny caught her before she fell, and then shook her roughly. It was a time for action, not for fainting. “Cheer up, mother,” he cried. There was a triumphant ring in his voice that, half-numbed as she was, struck on her ears curiously. “Cheer up; we'll save him yet,” the lad continued. ‘He cannot have much start of us, and Sancho will show us the way he has gone.” He rushed out of the house, followed by his weeping mother, and surveyed the landscape on all sides. “Oh, Heaven help us!” he cried, with a fervour his prayers had never known before ; “he has driven away the horses!” - For a moment he stood helpless, but thinking deeply. Then, with a half-smothered shout of triumph, he turned to his mother once more. “VI overtake him yet,” he said. “ You remain here, mother, and trust to me—I am a coward no longer!” He seized a lariat, a bridle, and light saddle, and started to run at full speed. For an instant only Mrs. O’Grady hesitated, and then she in turn took down her own riding outfit and followed him. She guessed what was in the boy’s mind from the direction he had taken, and became inspired with the same hope. A couple of kilometres away was the enclosure where Don Fabio Moryano, the great breeder of race-horses, kept his thoroughbred stallions. It was evidently her son’s intention to borrow one of these. Well, she could ride a little, and for Paddy’s sake she would trust herself on a race- horse. The boy never once looked back until he came to the wire fencing, which he proceeded to cut. He had just lassoed one of the horses when he saw his mother, now close at hand. “ Another, Johnny—catch another,” she cried, breathlessly. He did not stop to argue, but threw the lasso once more. In a few minutes they were riding away, the dog Sancho, as eager as themselves, running on ahead. But Paddy O’Grady, who had not slept at all the night before, had got two hours’ clear start of them. Arrived in Bahia Blanca, the first thing he did was to knock up a hairdresser with whom he had some slight acquaintance. Here, for the moment, Paddy put his “ madness” on one side, though the order he gave to the barber seemed strange enough to that individual. The job, even though hurried, took half an hour, and at the end Don Patricio, as the natives in- variably called him, was without his beard, whilst his moustache was dyed a jet black. So was his hair, which, fortunately for the object he had in view, was still abundant. He was com- pletely changed ; so much so that even the barber who had worked the metamorphosis declared he would not know him. Paddy was now wearing his son’s uniform, and as he sur- veyed himself in the glass his hopes began to revive. Though the barber had not been able to obliterate the whole of the forty years that divided him from Johnny, Paddy confessed to himself that he looked a smart. soldier, and might be able to pass muster in a crowd. If not—well, he was determined to go through with his programme, though the near prospect of death was not cheerful. He took his horse to the stable of the Hétel de Londres, and then, having a few minutes to spare, he walked towards the church. Should he enter? He had not been inside since the day Johnny was christened, and now—— But surely there couldn’t be any harm in a prayer, anyhow! Next, with a sad heart, he turned away and walked towards the barracks. He was the first on the ground, and, as ill-luck would have it, found the colonel already astir. The latter ‘eyed Paddy curiously, as, indeed, he had good reason, since the new recruit had forgotten —or, more likely, had never learned—that essential part of military discipline, the salute. Paddy never thought of the omission, and in a few minutes he was seized and brought into the presence of the outraged officer.

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THE MADNESS OF DON PATRICIO. 423 “Who are you, sir?” asked the colonel. “Juan O’Grady.” “Your papers !” Paddy produced his son’s papers, and with a mighty effort suppressed all outward signs of the emotion that was surging within. The colonel looked up angrily. “I know Juan O'Grady, and you are not he!” he cried. “What's the meaning of this, sirrah ?” “Will you not let me fight in his place, sir?” asked Paddy, appealingly, evading the question. He saw that the attempt to impersonate his boy had already failed ignomini- ously. ‘‘Where is Juan O'Grady ?” demanded the colonel. “T’d be worth a dozen of him in a fight,” per- sisted poor Paddy, though it grieved him to put a slight on one of his own flesh and blood. “Tf O'Grady does not present himself before ten o'clock he will be arrested as a deserter, and perhaps shot,” snapped the colonel. “Then, by Heaven, you'll be shot yourself first !” shouted Paddy. With that he drew his revolver on the colonel, but, as he knew already, there were half-a-dozen soldiers behind him, and in an instant they had flung themselves-upon him and disarmed him. In the opinion of the fire-eating Colonel Alvarez, the case was a pretty one, and would make a nice beginning for the campaign. He liked to do things in order, and lost no time in calling a court-martial. Patricio O’Grady refused to plead, and was sentenced to be shot out of hand. Ten minutes afterwards, with his hands bound behind his back and a company of soldiers for escort, he was on his way to the Plaza. The colonel wanted the whole town to know that he was not a man to be trifled with, so he had word- sent round that an execution was about to take place in the square. In a short while a big crowd collected. It was surely a spectacle worth coming to see, and the eagerness of the public might be surmised from the want of complete- ness which the attire of many of them displayed. The colonel, who came to superintend the MRS. O'GRADY. From a Photograph. execution in person, was much gratified by the largeness of the audience. In order that no one might be disappointed, not even the very smallest child present, as he most considerately remarked, he decided that the culprit should be shot on the bandstand. A very unpicturesque background, to stop such bullets as were not aimed straight, or that found too little resistance inside the prisoner’s body, was quickly improvised, and then Don Patricio ascended the stairs. Much against his will they tied him to a pillar. They also wanted to cover up his eyes, but he pro- tested so loudly against this that the colonel did not insist. Then a dozen soldiers, first-class shots all of them, drew out in line, and the colonel took his place on one side. He did not seem to be in a hurry; the situation was so dramatic, the ex- pression on the faces of the crowd so well worth studying. From one to the other the colonel looked, while the firing squad waited for his order. Suddenly he saw the prisoner start and, uncon- sciously, as it appeared, tug at the cords. Others saw the change, too, and fol- lowing the direction of Patricio’s eyes saw two horses galloping furiously towards the square. A light which scarcely seemed of this world shone in the eyes of the doomed man. “ Heavens ! they’re going to ride right on top of us,” cried a terrified woman, as the flying horses came nearer. The crowd, with a sudden impulse, split into two portions. A cordon of infantry outlined a space round the bandstand, leaving an arena. The leading horse kept on, but the soldiers did not give way, holding their rifles before them like lances. But not for this did John O’Grady stop. He knew the mettle of the horse he rode—a celebrated Irish steeple- chaser—and giving the word and the spur at the right moment the noble animal flew over the heads of the astonished men and landed inside the ring. Johnny’s jump had effec- tively broken the line, and the next instant his mother was also through. She looked in amazement at the man on the stand. She

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424 THE: WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE, had expected to see’ her husband — but who was this P “Oh, Johnny, it is not he,” she cried, fearing that the worst had happened—that her husband was already dead. “It is 4e, mother. It’s father. Look at thedog!” Sancho, who had been left a little behind in the last lap, had now ascended the stand and, wild with delight, was making futile efforts to lick his master’s face. Then Mrs. O’Grady caught the expression in the eyes of the bound man. “ Ready !” shouted the colonel, fiercely. He wanted to get rid of one job before he “Colonel Alvarez,” he cried, “ you have still a mother that you love. You have also a son, and for their sakes I beg of you to listen to me before you give the order ta fire. The man behind me is my father, who wanted to get shot to make my mother a widow, in order that I, her only son, should not be compelled to go to the war.” ' | Young Alvarez came up at the moment and whispered something into his father’s ear. Murmurs of deep sympathy began to be heard amongst the crowd. “ Pobrecito! Que bueno es!” (“Poor fellow, how good he is!”) exclaimed the wife of the began to deal with the situation that had so unexpectedly arisen. “Oh, no, no! don’t fire, colonel,” cried Mrs. O'Grady, who had rushed up the steps, placing herself before her husband. Johnny followed and placed himself in front of his mother. A single shot might now have killed the three of them. The crowd began to murmur and the colonel to give some order, but Johnny’s voice rang out above everything. “on, No, NO! DON'T FIRE, COLONEL,’ CRIED MRS. O'GRADY, PLACING HERSELF BEFORE HER HUSBAND.” alcalde, who had been provided with a seat at the front, but who was now on her feet. “ He had another motive, too,” Johnny went on; ‘the thought I was a coward. And I was, Argentinos; yesterday I was a coward, but, thank Heaven, I am no coward to-day. To-day Iam my father’s son—an O'Grady! Let me take my place in the National Guard, place me in front of the battle, and see if I will flinch. Do this, but spare my noble father. He comes

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THE MADNESS OF DON of a race that has done great things for South America. Look at the names of your principal streets here in Bahia Blanca—what are they? The Calle O'Higgins, the Calle Lynch, the Calle Browne, called after the Almirante Browne who gave you your liberty. Shall my father -——” MUERTE DE UN VALIENTE, Acabo de morir en su chacra cerca de Naposté un digno sefor irlandes cuyo nombre se conocié muy bien hace diez y seis afios por toda la provincia, de Buenos Aires, y sobre todo en Bahia Blanca. Antes de estaller la revolu- cion de 1890, el tal sefior hizo un papel que ahora, estandonos en tiempo de aZ, parece mentira.” Llamése don atricio O'Grady, 6 simplemente Paddy, y antes del hecho 4 que vamos 4& roefirir fue conocido por sus vecinos como un hombre de pocas pretenciones, de buenas costumbres, de un caracter de lo mas sencillo. Tenia entonces sesenta afios, poco mas 6 menos, y por familia, su mujer que llevaba veinte afios menos, y un hijo llamado Juan, gre ya formaba parte de la Guardia facional. Fue esto ultimo hecho que dié lugar 4 un espectaculo, verdadera- mente como de teatro, que presen- ciaban la mayor parte de la gente en Is plaza principal’ de Bahia Blanca. Como todo el mundo sabe, las leyes de la republica no exigen los servicios mili- tares del hijo unico de una viuda y con el motivo heroico de transformar en viuda la esposa que amaba con mucha ternura, Don Patricio O'Grady atajé con revolver al colonel de la Guardia Nacional. El resulta do, como estaba por esperar fue un consejo da guerra, % un pronto condenacion & la muerte. nel centro de la plaza se alzé un cadalso 6 por mejor decir, se utilizd con esto objeto la platafor) de. la musica ane se encontraba alli, y todo estaba dispuesto para la ejecucion cundo llegaron la esposa vw el valiente nm Patricio. Siguieron ex- Plicaciones r parte de los recien legados, y la opinion publico se de- claré tanto en favor del irlandes que, entre miles aclamaciones, fue puesto ,en libertad. R.I.P jijo del DN TEEEEEE—————————_——_______ZZ____ PATRICIO. 425 “ My son tells me that the revolver which the Senor O’Grady presented at my breast was charged only with blank cartridges ;, all the bullets had been extracted. Under the circum- stances———” - The crowd broke into a mighty cheer which .. DEATH OF A HERO. ___ There has just died at his farm near Naposta a worthy Irishman whose name was well known sixteen years ago throughout the province of Buenos Aires, but particularly in Bahia Blanca. Just before the outbreak of the revolu- tion of 1890 the aforesaid Irishman . performed a part that during the pre- sent times of peace seems almost in- credible. His name was Don Patricio O'Grady, or, in plainer terms, ‘ Paddy,” and before the act to which we refer he was known to his neighbours a8 a man of simple and unpretentious character. He was then about sixty years of age, and his family consisted only of his ’ wife and his son John, who had already been enrolled in the National Guards. It was this latter fact that gave rise to the remarkable and dramatic scene which was witnessed by most of the people of Bahia Blanca in the principal square of the town. As everyone knows, the laws of the Republic do not exact military services from the only son of a@ widow, and it was with the heroio motive of making a widow of the wife he dearly loved that Don Patricio attacked with a revolver the colonel of the National Guards. The result, as was to be expected, was the summon- ing of & court martial and a speedy condemnation to death. In the centre of the plaza a scaffold was erected, or, to be more exact, the bandstand already existing was utilized for that purpose, and everything was ready for the execu- tion when the wife and son of the gallant Don Patricio arrived upon the scene. Explanations on the part of the new arrivals quickly followed, and the public opinion declared itself so strongly in favour of the Irishman that, in the midst of thousands of acclama- tions, he was set at liberty. R.I.P. (transvation.} FACSIMILE AND TRANSLATION OF A PARAGRAPH FROM A BUENOS AYRES NEWSPAPER DESCRIBING “DON PATRICIO'S” ACT OF HEROISM. “The new street shall be called the Calle O'Grady, after the noblest man of them all!” cried the mayor’s wife, enthusiastically waving a handkerchief from the top of her chair, and the crowd cheered to the echo. The mayor himself now approached. “Colonel Alvarez,” he began, but was silenced by a gesture. The colonel ascended the band- stand and held up his hand. Not a sound was to be heard. Vol. xx.- 54 drowned the rest of the colonel’s words. Pre- sently they heard the order to release the prisoner and saw Mrs. O’Grady fall upon her husband’s breast. And so Don Patricio recovered from his “madness ”— which, if it did nothing else, demonstrated his own courage and turned his son into a brave man, for never again did John O’Grady show the slightest trace of the white feather.

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My Experiences’ in the Great Russian Famine. By Howarp P. Kennarp, M.D. This article, exclusively written for “The Wide World Magazine," affords some graphic glimpses of the terrible Russian famine of 1907. Twenty million peasants, inhabiting an area half as large as the United States, were starving, and Dr. Kennard went out to distribute the relief funds organized by “ Punch ” and the Society of Friends. Incredible to relate, instead of being received with open arms, he was driven from some villages with sticks and stones—all through the machinations of the police! Dr. Kennard’s narrative forms a scathing indictment both of the police and the bureaucracy, who seemingly did their best to render the relief work useless. T was my lot last year to travel over one must turn to many things. But the chief, eight thousand miles with horses alone across the boundless steppe, to | say nothing of journeys on river and rail, distributing the money and goods provided by the generous British con- tributors to the wack fund, and the big English fund organized by that energetic philan- thropist, Mr. E. W. Brooks, of the Society of Friends — which realized twenty-one thousand pounds. This task occupied me for many months, travelling night and day. Many people in this country had very little idea of the nature or extent of this terrible famine. There is no doubt that the visitation of 1906—1907 was the worst that has attacked the country since the unrivalled one of 1601. Twenty million pea- sants, inhabiting an area more than half the size of the United States, had literally to be supported or left to die. Those in the best circumstances had a modicum of black bread and tea, and perhaps young cucumbers to feast on, day in day out. No one had more, and the great majority had nothing at all, or, if they had black bread, it was made up of such - nourishing — in- gredients as powdered bark, birdseed, chaff, acorns, and straw. Misery and _ disease were everywhere. For the cause or causes of this terrible visitation From a) ‘THE AUTHOR'S TARANTASS ON THE BOUNDLESS STEPPES, beyond all question, was lack of education, ignorance of proper methods of work, and the lack of implements of modern make. All the implements at present in use are antiques: harrows made of strips of wood bound together, from which branches protrude at right angles, and ploughs with a wooden prong tipped with iron. Beyond these factors, one must blame, first, lack of rain, and then too much of it ; and, in the same way, lack of heat, and an excess of it when it was not wanted. The elements, indeed, worked in combination with the ignorance of the Russian peasant to bring about the disaster. Russia has not done with her famines; she will only conquer the pestilence when education has brought the knowledge how to work. | | (Photogeagh.

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MY EXPERIENCES IN THE GREAT RUSSIAN beeches iis GS Ns ONK OF THE MANY ACCIDENTS THAT OCCURRED—DR. KENNARD'S SLEDGE BURIED IN A SNOWDRIFT, From a Photograph. One of my first difficulties was to get to the spots that were most sorely stricken, for the tracks that are recognised as roads in that part of the country, and which run between the chief villages, are not to be found in connection with the myriads of hamlets lying off the beaten path, many of these places being merely clusters of broken-down izbas (huts) tucked away in deso- late, God-forsaken hollows forgotten by the world—nay, not forgotten, but unknown. To reach these oases of wretchedness seemed to me sometimes a physical impossibility, and, indeed, when the period of the breaking-up of the snows arrived, and the holes and hollows — even the very . valleys—became lakes filled to overflowing by the torrents of melted snow sweeping in endless cataract over hill and dale, travelling became abso- lutely beyond the power _of man, and the un- happy denizens of the hunger-spots had to be left to their fate. To certain villages one was able to make one’s way in the tarantass, or common = Froma) a er * “Nitchevo” FAMINE. 427 basket-shaped convey- ance of the peasant, drawn by two, three, or four horses; but many were the accidents, minor and otherwise, on the way — trying, indeed, to the British temperament, which brooks no delay, but invariably met by one’s Russian driver in the fatalistic spirit of resig- nation and patience which characterizes the race. “Nitchevo” (“It is nothing”) he would murmur, re- signedly. Wheels might break, an axle snap, the heavy stores of drugs and goods be turned into the swollen floods and ourselves and the tarantass be left help- less in mid-stream, but never did I hear any- thing but that one word:come from my Russian driver— Nitchevo.” Nothing matters, all is hopeless, nothing can be worse. Blended with that Oriental touch in his nature, which breeds apathetic indifference, is the feeling that he merely exists—he does not live! It is, then, this feeling, born of centuries of actual serfdom, that has helped to make this one word the Russian’s panacea for all evils, and which is the chief factor in the A TARTAR IZBA, OR HUT—IN SUCH TUMBLEDOWN HOVELS AS THESE WHOLE FAMILIES WERR (Photograph. HUDDLED TOGETHER FOR WARMTH,

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428 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. creation in his nature of his astounding and un- paralleled equanimity. Having overcome these difficulties and got within measurable distance of the stricken villages, I beheld on the horizon a cluster of hut-like struc- tures seemingly without tops, and as I drew nearer and finally entered the isolated hamlet I saw that my first conjecture was right; there were the wooden izbas, in various stages of demolition and decay, and almost all had been denuded of their roofs, for what purpose I discovered later. . Once inside the village," one never needed to ook for the misery that one had heard so much of from Press and people; it hit one straight between the eyes, and touched one’s heart. Hard must be the man who could remain indifferent to such wretchedness. Pale women and men, weary and worn, disconsolately tramping up and down the one long street, and haggard, hungry, hopeless faces peering through the little square-foot pane of glass doing duty for a window, through which light entered into the home. Home. What irony! The home of disease and death—consumption, scurvy, and fearful skin complaints—the home of those who had long since lost hope and happiness, and only waited for the end to come. From a) 1 INTERIOR OF A VEASANT'S HU (Photograph. There they were, men,-women, children, and babes, huddled together for warmth in the vitiated heat and indescribable fitth of the izba, many of the huts giving shelter to three or four families, a common custom being for several families to club together, preserve the best izba for all to live in, and ‘burn the remaining ones for fuel. There they crouched, not knowing if the next meal would come or not, or what it would consist of if it did. The story was the same everywhere: a period of want in the previous year had left them in no fit condition, physically or financially, to fight the greatest famine since 1601. Long since had the horses A TYPICAL VILLAGE SCENE—-THRKEE OK FOUK FAMILIES WOULD COMBINE, LIVE IN THE NEST HUT, AND PULL DOWN THE OTHEKS, USING From a) THE TIMBERS FOR FUEL AND THE THATCH AS FORAGE FOR THE HORSES AND CATTLE. (Photograph.

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MY EXPERIENCES IN THE GREAT RUSSIAN FAMINE. 429 been sold for ridiculously low prices—the good ones destined to do more work, the old ones to be used by the Tartars for food. Those who had been poor before and had but one horse, or perhaps two, now had none. Only the well-to-do, who had been blessed with four or five, now had one wretched, half-starved, emaciated animal remaining in the stall, fed with the straw pulled from the cottage roofs. This was the reason of the vista of roofless izbas which met the eye everywhere—the roofs had been eaten by the horses and cattle! The food of twenty millions of human beings was black bread and water, to which such delicate luxuries as tea and young cucumbers were occasionally added; the food of the both skilful and humane, rarely if ever came to them, so that disease stalked rampant and unchecked through the desolate Russian villages where lived twenty millions of people. Super- stition was rife, and although I was enabled to do much to combat disease by the distribution of great quantities of drugs in tablet form, supplied by a well-known American firm, yet the extraordinary beliefs prevalent amongst these ignorant people prevented one doing any- thing like the amount of good one might have done. To complete the misery born of hunger, disease, and superstition, debt was everywhere. Everybody seemed to have sold everything animals was ‘hatch. What need to add that the mor- tality was terrible? It would be hard to compute what it except those few items which a were absolutely necessary, and | numbers had even parted with those. Many had sold their | clothes, and sat day after day, from a) actually was, but in ordinary times in the Russian villages fifty per cent. of the children from birth to five years die, three hundred and fifty to four hundred per thousand of those from birth to one year, and thirty. to thirty-two per thousand of men, women, and children together. I found the medical aid tragically insufficient. One doctor, on fhe average, was supposed to exercise a watch over the health of thirty thousand peasants—an impossible feat— and the roads were so bad and the scarcity of horses to draw the vehicles so great, and the fear born of ignorance and the dislike of travelling twenty to thirty miles to get what so many described to me as “coloured water,” were so marked and universal that the masses, though stricken with all manner of diseases, rarely went to the small Zemstvo Hospital. Through excess of work the doctors, many COLLECTING THATCH FOk THE HORSES. (Photograph. night after night, in the vapour and smoke and the sickening smell of the low - ceilinged izba; many had sold their next year’s power of work (z.¢., they had engaged themselves to work for nothing), and some had become so far depraved by the terrible pangs of hunger that they had sold their own children into a condition worse than slavery! In one of the first Tartar villages that I visited my attention was drawn toa burial which was proceeding. I asked the details, and elicited the following facts. One of the peasants, overcome by the tortures of hunger, had negotiated with another peasant, who had risen to be a small merchant, for the sale of his daughter. The bargain had been clinched, and the deed carried into effect. The rest of the villagers, having heard the poor girl's story, and being transported with rage, especially as the merchant was known as a, heartless usurer,

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EE EEE EE_’__TC LD 430 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ee ee THE BURIAL OF THE TWO TARTARS WHO WERE CONCERNED IN THE SALE OF A GIRL INTO SLAVERY. From a Photograph. seized both men and tore them to pieces; the last act in the tragedy was the burial which I saw. Relief was administered through the medium of kitchens. To take my own work in connec- tion with the Punch fund: I would visit all the spots to which the Zemstvo had directed my attention as being badly stricken. There I proceeded to collect the children en masse with the aid of the Starosta, or headman of the village. I could then gauge that two hundred, three hundred, or four hundred needed relief, and would take the names of these children and acquaint the Zemstvo. They would then send a nurse, and perhaps a young unqualified medical assistant, or feddsher. They would arrive, buy—with English money—the goods necessary, either from the village merchant, the surrounding country, or the nearest town, and start the kitchens. Generally one solid meal a day was given, consisting of good black bread, tea, milk, rice, and as much meat as could be obtained with the funds at disposal. In a week I would visit these villages again and see that everything was being done as well and economi- cally as possible. Most of the kitchens were carried on for three months, and I was con- tinually journeying over the country inspecting them and the workers. Let us turn from the terrible tale of the con- ditions of distress obtaining in the villages of Russia to a more sinister side of the subject— the behaviour of the police. One would think, when suffering on an unprecedented scale is being endured in the villages of one’s native country, that all men, of whatsoever class or calling or poli- tical views, would have but one idea and end in view —to help their suffering brethren. In any other country but Russia that would be the case, but in Russia, that land of paradoxes, we must not for- get we are deal- ing with a coun- try which can in no sense be compared socially, economically, politically, or historically with any other on the surface of the globe. When I went out to the famine, therefore, having already had con- siderable experience of Russia, I was prepared to find certain conditions existing which might shock or puzzle one new to the country, but which, I flattered myself, would not have much effect on me. Little did I imagine that my ideas as to what might happen under the iniquitous police régime that rules Russia with a rod of iron were to receive the rudest shock they had yet sustained. It must be remembered by my readers that the Russian people—by which I mean the real Russian people, which is at the present moment but a cipher in the hands of the bureaucracy— was doing its level best to stem the famine and bring relief to the stricken peasant villages. England and America were sending funds with the same object. What, then, was bureaucracy, as represented by the police, doing to aid in the good work? Will it be believed when I say that the bureaucracy was doing its utmost, to judge by its actions, to stop that relief being administered ? Bureaucracy, when the famine was almost at its height, only permitted the Press to report a “little local scarcity ”; and when the dimensions of the disaster became too immense to conceal any longer bureaucracy spent its energies and the last copeck of the people’s money in increas- ing the police force to an extent that would allow PLES = Ese SS

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MY EXPERIENCES IN THE GREAT RUSSIAN FAMINE. 431 of every village of any size in the famine area being patrolled by myr- midons of the so- called law, who should see that philanthropic people, hard-work- ing doctors, ladies, and others should not directly or indirectly bring education to the peasant! Bureau- cracy trembles at the bare idea of the Russian pea- sant being taught to think, for that might lead him to combine, and combination ‘7omal might end in action. Terrible thought! Action by the peasantry might mean a sweeping of every bureaucrat off the face of Russia. Therefore it is essential that absolutely deprived of education, must, at any rate, have it doled out to him in the most minute homceopathic doses. And it may be said at once that there are no such skilful homceopathists anywhere in the wide world as the Russian police. They permit their patients, the humble peasan- try; to imbibe edu- cation in such in- finitesimal quantities that to this day the victims do not realize ‘that they have been treated. And so the police force was practically doubled throughout the south - eastern provinces to meet the exigencies of the famine, and when I arrived on the scene I found the villages full of these auto- crats, busily em- ployed in eating, drinking, and sleep- ing. They were drawing an increased salary to make them what is called “safe” THIS 1S THE HUT OF THE HEADMAN OF A VILLAGE, AND ITS CONDITION GIVES SOME IDEA OF THE STATE OF DESIITUTION TO WHICH THE STARVING PEASANTS WERE REDUCED. the peasant, if not TT ae THE EVIL GENIUS OF THE FAMINE—A TYFICAL, RUSSIAN POLICEMAN. From a Photograph. in Russia, and keeping a lynx-like watch on the un- fortunate starving peasantry, and on any educated people who dared to set foot within a mile of them. Indeed, for an in- telligent Russian, unauthorized by the Zemstvo, to appear in a village was but to mean his arrest, and later in the famine not even the at- testation of the Zemstvos that the character of a lady or gentleman was all that should be, that he or she was non-political and not desirous of sowing the seeds of sedition, was sufficient to stop their being seized, banished from the province, or thrust into the already overflowing jails. Orders were given that no one was to be sent on famine relief by the heads of the Zemstvo without having first obtained the consent of the police. This meant a lengthy inquiry into the life- history of the person concerned, which inquiry generally took at least a month, and then as often as not ended in a negative answer, or the enigmatic sechas, which means, “You shall have an answer in the course of an hour or—a year.” Mr. Nicholas Shishkoff himself, the gentleman who visited England and America to raise funds, and who has done more for famine relief than perhaps any other Russian living, was at last subjected to this in- iquitous order; and when I was needing lady nurses to take charge of the first two or three of my Punch kitchens, and made a request to (Photograph.

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432 Mr. Shishkoff to aid me, he said, “I will try, but it is hard. Ladies and gentlemen want to aid us in shoals, but those who are not political agitators and murderously -inclined revolutionaries are, according to the police, non-existent, but I will try.” He did so, and meanwhile I went away for a three weeks’ relief tour into the interior. On my return I saw Mr. Shishkoff, and said, “Well, have you got me my ladies?” “No,” said he : “I had ladies volunteering from Moscow and put their names before the powers that be. They are still engaged in sifting the ladies’ characters, but yesterday I heard from the ladies that they could not wait any longer, so I have got to begin all over again.” This gives an idea of the checks which the police placed upon famine relief, notwithstand- ing the fact that twenty millions of human beings were waiting for food, and that it was impossible to put too many distributers into the field. To say that one’s blood boiled with indignation at what one saw and heard puts the case but mildly. Let me give a few instances of police methods —solid facts, which can be proved up to the hilt. A gentleman in Government service wishing to get up a famine relief society, and EXPECTATION !—A GROUP OF FAMINE VICTIMS AWAITING THE DISTRIBUTION( OF RELIEF, THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. having worked hard to bring this about, was suddenly told by the police that he must stop his activity, for “famine relief is sncom- patible with the Government service.” Do you think the Government or M. Stolypin knew this? Of course not; the police are to-day responsible to no one, and I am convinced that the Ministers have no idea of the lengths to which they go in the hidden-away spots of unhappy Russia to-day. Here is another instance. The Famine Relief Committee of the Zemstvo distributed shoals of placards along a certain railroad, in the waiting-rooms and buffets, begging for aid to stem the famine. What happened? The police tore them down, and it was not till the Zemstvo had appealed to the governors and the Moscow authorities that the placards were allowed up again ; but in the interval the police, maintaining that the collection of money and goods had been illegal, had made the donors of money and goods take back the donations intended for the starving peasantry! More instances are really unnecessary. It is enough to say that almost every day the head-quarters of the Zemstvo Relief Committees were in receipt * of telegrams from near and distant parts, saying ~ 14> (Photograph,

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MY EXPERIENCES IN THE GREAT RUSSIAN FAMINE. 433 that some lady or gentleman, an > indefatigable worker, had been arrested for ‘seditious agitation,” as the police called it. Thus the efforts of the Zemstvo were sub- ject to a constant series of para- lytic. strokes, and would have succumbed altogether if such giants of work as Mr. Shishkoff, Dr. Grahn, Prince Lvoff, and Count Peter Tolstoy had not been at the head of affairs, and if all connected with the work—doctors, nurses, and everyone — had not laboured with a devotion which was beyond all praise. How was I treated as the administrator of English relief ? you ask. I will say at once that my presence in the villages was most distasteful to the police, and still more so in that I spent many long hours talking tothe peasantry, sympathizing with them and doing what I could to educate them, while the police gnawed their moustaches and bit their lips in vain, not daring to arrest me, but seizing every possible opportunity to obstruct my labours. And this obstruction they carried out to perfection—none know how better than the Russian police. A great part of my time was spent in showing documents and passports, although all the police in the six affected provinces knew well who I was and what was:my errand. Only once was I really arrested, and that was for a period of some thirty-six hours, owing to the order of an officer whom I have every reason to believe was a member of the secret police, whom everyone fears. Documents from governors of provinces are sniffed at by these gentlemen; they are, indeed, autocrats of the police world, travelling with carte blanche to do as they please, and it was my experience that no documents seemed to have the slightest weight with the obnoxious breed, although, with the one exception of the incident in the village of Matievskoe, when I was detained, as related, for thirty-six hours, I never met with any personal restrictions, except continual petty obstructions. The police are to a great extent independent of governors or Governmental orders, and the various governors, so far as in them lay, did, I believe, do their best to aid relief, but it was my impression that they were, to a certain extent, mere tools in the hands of the police. I had arrived one evening at the large village of Bakala and went into the village shop to buy Vol. xx.—55. AN IZBA OF THE BETTER CLASS=NOTE THE TINY WINDOW IN THK SIDE AND THE WOODEN CHIMNEY ON THE ROOF, THE ONLY PROVISION FOR LIGHT AND VENTILATION, From a Photograph. what I could get to eat. There was a police- man present. He inquired my business and asked for my documents. I was tired, and curtly told him to come to my room if he wished to see them. Angry at my attitude, he began to take a high tone with me, and, weary with my day’s work, I took a still higher one, and left the shop. I went to bed tired, and the next morning was roused at four o’clock by the chief of police and two subordinates, who proceeded to ask for my documents, passports, my reasons for being there, my reason for being anywhere—my reasons, indeed, for existing at all. The official soon saw he had got into the wrong box, however, when ‘he perused my papers, but, determined to obstruct me, he detained me for a long time while he copied my documents out word for word with pen and ink. This being done, he asked me where I was going. Having enlightened him, wondering what the next point in the game was, I pro- ceeded to depart, but found that all the horses were, curiously enough, “engaged.” They had all been free over night, but now there were none to be had. It is an old police dodge, but this time, again, they reckoned without their man. I had a special permit from the governor which compelled all and sundry to afford me horses, and, much to the chagrin of my friend the chief of the local police, I countermanded his order before his face, and drove away in triumph. ( Sol

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"434 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. What the police objected to very much was the entry of newspapers other than the Govern- ment organ into the village. Let but a few peasants club together and subscribe to such a paper as the Russhi Viedomosti, Russki Slovo, or other Liberal papers, and not only did that paper rarely reach them, but those peasants themselves were immediately looked upon with the eye of suspicion, and an early opportunity was sought to banish them from the village. These forced exoduses of the peasants figured in the official report as “voluntary emigration ”! Thus the peasants are barred from one of the chief aids to progress—the Press, which would tell them of the great outside world. True, few can read, for the percentage of /iterati in the villages of Russia on the average varies from two per cent. to four per cent., but a young man or youth is generally to be found who, by hook or by crook, has learned the art, and he is an oracle indeed amongst the ignorant villagers. I myself, whenever I reached a town or station where papers could be bought, generally cleared the stock, and distributed them in numerous villages to the grateful peasantry, but it was both sad and amusing to see the way in which this forbidden literature was received. The last paper I gave out in Russia was to a very intelli- gent peasant, a wiborstchik, or one of those selected by the villagers as an “elector” for the Duma. He hurriedly took the paper and hid it in a box. “Why do you do that?” I asked. “ Because the policeman may come along,” said he. Comment is needless. Let me turn from the history of the police, with whose deeds one could fill volumes, and their treatment of me, to the reception given to me by the peasantry themselves. I found to my utter astonishment that the peasantry— especially the Tartars, Tcheremisses, Tchou- vashes, and Mordva—often refused the relief point-blank, and on many occasions when, seeing the terrible condition that existed, I endeavoured to force assistante on them I was driven out of the village with sticks and stones ! On several occasions, indeed, I only escaped serious injury by urging my three horses to a mad gallop and making straight for the open country regardless of all obstacles. What caused this extraordinary refusal of charity? I inquired diligently, and soon arrived at the solution. Said the peasants to me in explanation, “ Many think you are merely a spy in league with the Government, or an English tchinovnik (official) seeking to make them take relief now, so that in two years’ time England may demand it back at enormous interest.” There was the root of the suspicion, there was the cause of the ingratitude which one met so frequently ; and, once having realized the cause, I never felt grieved at being mis- understood, only pained and indignant at the system which had stifled peasant thought and deprived these masses of people of the power to understand and left them stranded, morally incapable of believing that anyone in the twentieth century would do anything for sheer humanity’s sake. In numberless villages England’s relief was taken, but England’s in- tentions were not believed in. “What are you going to take from us?” many asked me. Such was the distrust bred in these darkened minds by years of down-trodden serfdom, years of cringing under an iniquitous police system, bolstered by bureaucracy and Church. And in many cases, when I probed the subject to its depths, I got the surly answer, “Go away! We know who you are ; you cannot deceive us.’ “ How do you know?” “Oh, the police told us!” was the astounding reply. There can be no doubt that the police deliberately fostered the idea in the minds of these people, so that I, whom fortunately ¢hey could not turn out of the villages or lodge in jail for talking to the sufferers, might be turned out by the peasantry themselves. Several attempts were made to waylay me and seize the “bags of gold” which the credulous peasants were informed I carried, but there were always those who were grateful enough and intelligent enough to understand one’s errand and the real object of the English nation in affording relief, and I invariably had warning of any foul intentions respecting my money or person. Only on my way back to civilization was an attempt on me successful, and that I shall relate as the closing incident in this short sketch of my adventures in Eastern Russia. Ow returning I spent a good deal of time investigating, from an ethnographical point of view, the tribes on the Volga banks. Travel- ling with horses between Kazan and Nijni- Novgorod, I had arrived one evening at a hamlet near the selo (large village) of Kozmo- demiansk. I put up at an izba in the village, and the following day towards evening set out on foot to wander in search of Votiaks, Tchouvashes, or other tribesmen. About five versts from the village I espied two men, evi- dently Tchouvashes or Tcheremisses, and going towards them entered into conversation, as was my wont. Our talk led me to think that they were members of a small settlement, and I was on the point of asking them to give me lodging for the night, in order that I might see more of them, when I suddenly received a terrific blow on the back of my head. Countless stars shot hither and thither before my eyes, and I

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MY EXPERIENCES IN THE GREAT RUSSIAN FAMINE. 435 tottered. Recover- ing myself with diffi- culty, I clutched involuntarily at the revolver in my right-hand pocket, but it was too late. Another crash on my head gave me the sensation as if all the waters of Niagara had been turned loose intomy ears, and I knew no more. Early morn- ing brought con- ~ sciousness, though no doubt I had been left for dead, and, indeed, must have lain senseless on the steppe for at least ten hours. At first I could not assure myself if I was still of this world or had been wafted to another sphere, and I re- member musing to myself, “Am I alive or dead? Am I alive or dead?” Finally reason asserted itself, and pain—such pain as I never experienced before, and never wish to again. Then came exhaustion and calm sleep! On awaking I felt vastly better, and such material things as money and watch came to my mind. They had, of course, vanished, but my documents and tevolver were safe, for the wretched peasantry know that to be found by the police with a revolver frequently means in these times shooting at sight, and, as for the documents, no use could be found for them. Finally I reached my village quarters and lay there in a darkened room, speaking to none, and From a) TO KEEP THE CHILDREN SUPPLIED. WANT |—THE FATHER AND MOTHER HAVE GONE WITHOUT THEIR OWN SCANTY SHARE OF FOOD IN ORDER (Photograph. in a sort of dream for three days. Then the idea of home seized me—England, home, and beauty—and that idea acted like a tonic. I rose, regardless of expostulation on the part of my dear old peasant nurse, and, hastening first to Moscow, sped on to Petersburg and across the sea to the best place in the wide world—home.

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An I1l-Starred Invention: ae By A. W. S. Cowie. ‘The amusing story of three young men who wanted to get rich and a patent that went wrong. All the speculators required was money, all the invention required was wind—and neither was forthcoming. Ma) EYTON, Barker, and Dixon, as we may call the heroes of this episode, though their true names are different, fo, were three young Americans at the University of Texas. Like all good Americans they were ambitious, and hungered after the almighty dollar with all the eagerness of fresh, untamed spirits. What they wanted, in brief, was a short cut to wealth. The opportunity came in the shape of a patent milk-cooler, invented by Dixon’s brother- in-law. It was an imposing concern, well calculated to turn the heads of the embryo millionaires. Standing some six feet high, its bottom was in the shape of a shallow tray, six feet long by two wide, intended for the recep- tion of water. From each corner of this tray arose a shapely girder, the four converging at the top to support another shallow tray, three feet by two, also intended to hold water. Between the two trays, and supported by the girders aforesaid, were three shelves on which the innocent dairy farmer was supposed to leave his milk, butter, eggs, etc. Lastly, a large sheet was provided, which was to be saturated with water and wrapped round the entire edifice, its upper and lower edges being allowed to dip into the two trays of water at the top and bottom. In this way, so long as there was water in the trays, the unalterable laws of capillary attraction could be relied on to keep the sheet moist. All that the farmer had to do was to stand his milk-cooler in the open, where the breezes could play upon the sheet, and the consequent evaporation of the water would create an internal temperature sufficient to preserve milk unsoured and eggs unaddled during the hottest days of a Texas summer. No ice required, no risk, no trouble — only wind. Dixon’s brother-in-law, being presumably more advanced in years than Dixon, willingly allowed the three dollar-hunters to exploit his invention. And they, being presumably younger than Dixon’s brother-in-law, were only too eager to do so. What more simple? A brief tour with the milk-coolers through Texas, planting them on every farm whose owner would consent totry one. A return trip after a few weeks, to find the fame of the milk-cooler being loudly sung by each grateful farmer. ‘Then the collec- tion of orders and testimonials, and in a few years the patent milk-cooler would be in every home, from Texas to Timbuctoo, and the.cash value thereof in the pockets of Peyton, Barker, Dixon, and Co. And so the trio planned, and schemed, and dreamed, until -the summer vacation of 1901 approached. As. soan’as it commenced they were to meet at .the little town. of Bonham, where Peyton’s home was, and get together all things needful for their expedition. The vacation arrived, and the trio duly met at Bonham. Shortly afterwards a consignment of milk-coolers arrived at Bonham station, and the pile of gleaming monsters became the rallying-point for Bonham’s large population of hitching-post philosophers. In a few days all was ready. The trio of fortune-hunters had secured a large wagon of the “Studebaker” type and a team of mules, and on this wagon they piled some dozen milk- coolers and all necessary baggage. They carried with them four or five hundred of the most potent cigars that could be bought for two cents apiece to regale the farmers with, in order that they might see the patent milk-cooler through a kindly mist, as Peyton euphemistically explained it. Also, they had donned gaudy suits, whose pattern was so immense that the three of them, standing side by side, could only just show the full extent of it. On these, coupled with neck- ties for which an African medicine-man would sell his soul, they relied to create a power- ful impression on their agricultural victims. Apparently these methods of criminal influence are allowed in America. The fateful morning of the start dawned at last, and in the bright glare of a Texas summer day Dixon cracked his whip dramatically over the mules, and the caravan plunged forward for the wilds of Texas and the realms of gold. The Bonhamites, assembled e# masse, cheered lustily, the wags shouted their last waggeries, and the philosophers ejected tobacco-juice with renewed gusto. Amid every omen of success and a cloud of dust the adventurers disappeared in the distance, and the last rattle of the milk- coolers died away.

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AN ILL-STARRED INVENTION.’ 437: Striking out into the heart of the country after leaving Bonham, our three heroes arrived at the little hamlet of Ivanhoe, where they established their base of operations. Here one of them took up his quarters at the best building the place could boast of—the post-office. One of the milk-coolers was set up for exhibition on the veranda, and Peyton, in all the glory of his third of the cloth pattern and armed with a box of the seductive cigars, gave demonstrations and invited discussion. Their object at, Ivanhoe was to dispose of the selling rights of the milk-cooler NS | Tm Pu eeag country where the farms are ten.or twelve miles apart, and where the first preliminary to a visit is to stand at the gate and yell to the farmer to chain up his dog. If the farmer does not: like your looks at that distance, or if he happens to be asleep indoors or hard of hearing, you have no hope of ever getting any closer to create a more favourable impression. The dog remains master of the situation, and you must tramp another ten miles. By persevering steadily, however, Barker and Dixon succeeded in placing their dozen milk-coolers on various \ ite Y mee “(HE GAVE DEMONSTRATIONS AND INVITED DISCUSSION.” in that particular district; but although the wonderful secret properties of the cigars drove many an unhappy speculator to make offers, the region appeared to be a poor one, and a pair of old lame cows was the highest bid. I believe Peyton, Barker, Dixon, and Co. still retain the right to sell the patent milk-cooler in Ivanhoe. Meanwhile, the other two partners scoured the country with the “Studebaker” in search of farms whereon to plant their boon and blessing. This was none too easy a job in a farms after two or three weeks, When once the farmer had been persuaded to remove his dog, and the partners had been allowed within the sacred precincts of the farm, the rest was easy. Crops were discussed, the unsuspecting victim was induced to take one of the cigars, and before he knew where he was he found himself staring at an iron monster swathed in a damp winding-sheet, with a hazy jumble of “ direc- tions” in his poor, fume-besotted pate, while away in the distance bumped the ponderous

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438 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “Studebaker” with one milk-cooler the less on board. Thus, in time, Barker and Dixon had disposed of their load and returned to Bonham for a fresh consignment, picking up Peyton on their way. Their first disappointment occurred when they learned of Peyton’s failure to geta good offer for the selling rights ; but as every- thing else was going so smoothly they set out gaily enough with their second batch of milk- coolers, and the loyal Bonhamites gave them as hearty a send-off as before. The almighty dollar still loomed as large as ever in their nightly dreams, wherein they strode, like Gulliver, through a land of Lilliputian Rockefellers. On this trip Ivanhoe was left severely alone, as unprofitable. Dixon departed for the northern ‘ part of Texas, called the Panhandle, and the Indian Territory, there to try to dispose of the selling rights, while Peyton took a turn with Barker at planting milk-coolers among the farms. During their wanderings the pair passed several nights at the house of one Aunt “ Huldy” Keen, where board and lodging cost them about six shillings a week! (City men are recommended to try Aunt Huldy next time they take a holiday.) The only inconvenience lay in the chickens of Aunt Huldy. They persisted in roosting updn any sleeping body accessible to them, ahd as the structure of Aunt Huldy’s domicile gave them free access- to the guests’ bedchamber, our heroes’ sleep had occa- sionally to be interrupted in order to shake off the feathered incubus. How- ever, they were grateful enough to make Aunt Huldy a free present of a milk-cooler, with full directions as to use. If it worked well, they would be making her a good return for her hospitality ; if not, they would be revenged on the chickens. Soon the last of the milk -coolers had been “ dumped,” and the first stage in the enterprise was complete. Dixon remained in the Pan- handle, while Peyton and Barker returned to Bonham. After waiting a week or two they were to revisit the farms, and if the milk-coolers had failed to give satisfaction, cart them away; if otherwise, they would take orders and testi- monials, and thus the first stone of a great industry would be laid. They never thought twice what woudd be the result. They were young, and probably their lexicons contained no such word as “ fail.” The days of waiting were past at last, and Peyton set out once more with Barker, this time to reap the first-fruits of their toil. Did ever hope rise so high in human breast? Alas ! Peyton and Barker came to the first farm where they had left a milk-cooler for trial. There it stood on the veranda, with the farmer beside it. The farmer looked as if he were waiting for somebody. “Aha,” thought the partners, “he is eager to place an order with us. That’s the sort of hair-pin we are !” The dog was not visible, and our heroes entered the gate with confidence. “ Well, sir,” began Peyton, smilingly ; but just then the farmer (who was a very strong man) lifted up the milk-cooler bodily and hurled it at the advancing pair. As they dodged the flying missile, there came flowing out from the lips of the agriculturist such a torrent of horrid imprecations as only that picturesque country “THEY DODGED THE FLYING MISSILE."

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AN ILL-STARRED INVENTION. 439 tan produce. At the same moment the dog appeared round the corner of the house, and the farmer, so far from restraining its palpably hostile intentions, seemed actually to encourage them. Peyton and Barker deemed it wisest to retire behind the shelter of the gate, followed by an ever-growing torrent of lurid abuse. At length, from the few lucid fragments of narrative which shone out, like occasional stars on a stormy night, from the farmer’s turbulent discourse, Peyton and Barker gathered that he wished to thank them and their blank blank blank milk-cooler for the loss of a large part of three weeks’ dairy produce. He had faithfully and perseveringly tested the thing, it appeared, and, so far from acting as a refrigerator, it had turned out an all-too-powerful oven. If it had only served as an incubator it might have been some use for eggs, he declared, but it was too blank blank hot even for that? It only baked them, and never hatched a blank blank one. As for its effect on the milk and butter—well, what was the blank thing meant for, anyway ? Here the farmer’s feelings became too much for him, and he abruptly picked up the milk-cooler from where it lay on the ground and hurled it over the gate. Sadly packing the battered object on their wagon, Peyton and Barker made haste to depart. Fragments of vituperative remarks on inventions in general and milk-coolers in particular, inter- spersed with lusty barks from the farmer's dog, followed them over the horizon. What was the explanation? Had our would- be millionaires practised kite-flying when they were young they would never have sought wealth in an invention which relied for its suc- cess upon the wind. They would have known that wind was the one thing they would not get. As it was, it took them some time to puzzle out what had happened. At length they began to recall the preternaturally unbroken stillness of the atmosphere during the past few weeks, and gradually the solution dawned upon them. Without wind their milk-cooler must have been a veritable inferno. And wind, they now remembered, there had been none ! Hardly knowing whether to grieve at the downfall of their hopes or to laugh at the unde- niably comic aspect of the situation, the two wanderers proceeded on their way. It was sad to think that Rockefeller was not yet in any danger of being put in the shade ; ‘on the other hand, the vision of some four-and-twenty Texas farmers making the whole land ring with one great chorus of blasphemy certainly had its humorous side. Proceeding with some caution, Peyton and Barker found the tale repeated, with slight variations, all along the line. Nowhere had there been a breath of wind to make their in- vention a success. Everywhere they learned of butter melted into rancid pools, milk soured in a couple of hours, eggs almost instantaneously rendered unfit for human palates. Everywhere they met torrents of abuse and imprecation, and considerable tact was frequently required to avoid physical violence. The climatic con- ditions of that Texas summer were warm enough, but they were nothing to the moral atmosphere through which the pair had to travel. It was positively sulphurous. And day by day the pile of battered and dismantled milk-coolers on the wagon grew higher and higher. At some farms the owners had neglected, in spite of the careful directions, to keep the trays of the milk-cooler filled with water. But fury rendered them unreasonable, and no amount of polysyllabic discourse on the theory of capillary attraction could avail against the simple argu- ment of human abuse. Poor old Aunt Huldy had suffered as heavily as any. Not only had her milk-cooler failed to work, but her dogs had finally found their way into it and made short work of the last batch of dairy produce which she, hoping against hope, had entrusted to its doubtful preservative qualities. At several of the farms, in fact, the dogs had contrived to take up their quarters inside the milk-coolers; but the irate farmers could not be induced to see that any respon- sibility rested with their animals. If the “ blamed thing ” failed to work, why then—here followed a renewed outburst of fire and brimstone, and our heroes departed sadly, taking their milk- coolers and the farmers’ curses with them. At one of the farms they found the milk-cooler converted into: a drying-cupboard for clothes! This argued great adaptive ingenuity on the part of the farmer, and yet he was as unreasonable and abusive as any of the others. Nor had he any desire to keep the “ blamed thing,” even to dry clothes in. At another place the farmer’s wife, a lady of undeniably hopeful temperament, had endeavoured to make ice-cream in the milk-conler! And she persisted, in spite of all argument and technical verbiage, in claiming the right to a temperature which not all the winds of olus could have brought about. She concluded with some lurid and unscientific remarks about the whole race of inventors, showing her language to be less cold than her imagination, and Peyton assisted Barker to pack one more damaged failure on the already overburdened wagon. And so at last the disappointed prospectors returned to Bonham, amid the jeers of the delighted populace. What,adyenturous mariner

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440 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. was ever so disastrously overwhelmed by too much wind as our heroes were by too little of it? Let all would-be Rockefellers see to it, before they start to lay the foundations of their visionary wealth, that they have mastered that term, to wearing the beautiful suit of clothes which his father had provided him with at the beginning of his trip? It would save getting a new suit for a month or two. And there, at the University of Texas, under the admiring gaze of “(SME CONCLUDED WITH SOME LURID AND UNSCIENTIFIC REMARKS ABOUT THE WHOLE RACE OF INVENTORS.” all- pervading doctrine of the Perversity of Inanimate Things. It will save them many a foredoomed venture. There still remained some drops to be added to the cup of bitterness. A milk-cooler which Peyton’s mother had consented to try at Bonham was found being used as a stand for flower-pots. Another is in use in Bonham to this day—as a rabbit-hutch! And Peyton's father, who had financed the undertaking as far as his son was concerned, now manifested a most unwelcome gift of humour. As his son’s venture had cost him no little money, he ex- plained, he would take it as exceedingly dutiful on his part now if he would practise a little economy. In other words, would he have any objection, when he returned to the University of Texas at the commencement of the next the whole academic congregation, Peyton wore out that suit of Brobdingnagian pattern and the necktie of multifarious hues. But it does not seem to have affected his popularity, for some years later he was elected a Rhodes Scholar, and came to the University of Oxford, where I met him and gleaned this tale from his own lips. One solitary success stood out in the whole undertaking. This was achieved by Dixon in the Panhandle and Indian Territory, where he disposed of the selling rights of the patent milk- cooler for some four or five hundred dollars and ~ a team of mules. I wonder who the unhappy men were who bought the rights, and how they fared when they came to the farms which Peyton and Barker had visited !

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MUSSEL- FARMING. By A. PitcaiRN-KNOWLES. All about a curious Dutch industry. Young mussels are scraped off the piers of Belgium, shipped to some muddy creek in Holland, and there ‘‘ farmed” upon scientific lines. An idea of the demand for these shell-fish may be gleaned from the fact that sometimes three hundred thousand pounds of mussels are sent away from one village in a single day! Photographs by the author. MF some lover of statistics were to set i himself the task of calculating how many thousands—nay, millions—of molluscs of the well-known common sea-mussel type are brought annually from the depths of the sea to the table, the resulting figure would cause no little astonish- ment among those who had heretofore regarded this bivalve shell-fish somewhat contemptuously on account of its insignificant, and to many uninviting, appearance, and, above all, on account of the danger that lurks within the innocent-looking shell, owing to the latter con- taining polluted water or poisonous waste products. In spite of this deep-rooted prejudice on the part of a vast army of epicurean diners, the mussel can claim to be the most-sought-after sea animal, if we may gauge its popularity by the numbers sold and consumed. Its ubiquitousness in all Europcan seas, from { the Mediterranean to the Arctic, is of course one of the foremost causes of its enjoying a world-wide reputation, but its chief attraction lies not in the quantity procurable, but in the quality of the dainty morsel as an article of food _ when the fear of poisoning is eliminated. The best idea of its popularity as an article of diet can be gathered from the fact that a small country such as Belgium finds it necessary to import nearly forty thousand hundredweights of the cherished bivalve every year in order to satisfy the enormous demand for this toothsome delicacy. With us, too, the “poor man’s oyster” (as the mussel is frequently called) is held in much regard as an article of food, and its importance will increase as its admirers and consumers gain proficiency in the mysteries of converting, by a rational system of culture, a creature practically worthless in its normal state into a dainty delicacy for the table, and as the difficulties of transporting the sensitive animal THE MUSSEL HARVEST IN FULL SWING—SCRAPING THE RIVALVES OFF THE BELGIAN PIERS. From a Photograph. Vol. xx.—56.

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442 . THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. from its natural sur- roundings to the re- mote corners of the globe are overcome. The development of the common mussel, from the moment of its capture until its arrival at that stage of maturity which ensures it a welcome into every kitchen, furnishes material for one of the most interesting chapters on modern pisciculture. Let us betake our- selves in imagination to one of the most important and produc- tive of the beds which supply the greater part of Northern A BOATLOAD OF MUSSELS READY FOR DISPATCH TO THE “FARMS.” From a Photopraph. Europe. This is situated at a spot on the coast of Holland but a few miles distant from the Belgian frontier, where the western outlet of the River Scheldt pours itself into the sea and forms a-series of natural coves. Here beneficent Nature has rendered a service to man by pres paring a natural rearing-place which human hands could scarcely have constructed, even by a great expenditure of time and labour. We will not anticipate, however, but begin our journey at the point at which human skill is first required in taking the mussel from its natural surround- ings, where, strange as it may seem, it cannot flourish sufficiently to attain a marketable size and vaiue. In the autumn months small boats can be seen anchored at low tide beside the piers which project into the sea from most of the Belgian ports, their occupants busily engaged with spades in dislodging the mussels from the piles of the jetty. A closer inspection makes it apparent to the uninitiated that this procedure is not undertaken with the object of freeing the pier from the tenacious grasp of an uninvited in- truder, but to secure the animals them- selves. In short, the mussel-harvest is in full swing. By means of their silken “ byssi,” or bunches of thread exuding from the SKPARATING THE WORTHLESS MATTER FROM THE MUSSELS BEFORE SHIPMENT. . From a Photograph. mollusc, the little creatures have

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: MUSSEL - FARMING. : 443 A CORNER OF A DUTCH MUSSEL-FARM. enchained themselves securely to their strong- hold, forcing each other into such narrow quarters that the thick stratum will barely yield to the force of the spade ; yet the mussels must be dislodged, for if left in this state of con- glomeration on entirely unfavourable ground they are so much hindered in the process of growth and development that, as an article of food, they would be considered almost worthless. The mussel crop obtained from the Belgian Piers varies from year to year. In some seasons (Photograph. almost every inch of the wood exposed to view between high and low water marks is covered with a well-nigh impenetrable black layer of these shell-fish, and the Dutch boats are kept busy journeying backwards and forwards from one country to the other; but bad seasons with scanty supplies frequently follow prosperous harvests. Thus in 1905 enormous quantities were collected and shipped to the Dutch beds, while the season of 1906 was a total failure. To the representatives of the Dutch rearers AT LOW WATER THE “CROP” Is FULLY EXPOSED—COUNTLESS MILLIONS OF THE BIVALVFS ARE HERE SHOWN, From a Photograph. -

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444 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. belongs the exclusive right of collecting the Belgian pier mussels from their self-elected quarters—a monopoly for which some of the towns claim eighty pounds yearly. When the mussels, bunched together by the hundred, fill the little boats of the harvesters to their utmost capacity, the precious load is trans- ferred to the bigger sailing vessels lying in the harbour, where one of the men can be seen occupied in separating all worthless matter from the mussels and throwing it overboard. Bunched together in the way described, the mussels will stand removal front their natural surroundings and the deprivation of sea-water for several days. When, after a few days’ sojourn in Belgian waters, the quaintly-shaped Dutch vessel has every available space filled with the living freight, the fishermen set sail, and quickly pursue their way along the Belgian and Dutch coast until the river-mouths of their own land are reached, when the valuable charge is again entrusted to the deep, this time in sheltered inlets. A certain muddiness of the bed together with a mixture of salt and fresh water as obtained at the mouth of a river are important points to be noted, and these conditions are absolutely necessary to ensure the well-being of the young mussels. Let us now inspect more closely the working of the mussel-farms at Philip- pine, one of the centres of this important trade, where I obtained an insight into the methods of the mussel culti- vator. At low tide the greater part of the mussels can be seen spread out in countless thou- sands on the river bed, as one of our photographs Long branches stuck into the shows. ground at intervals, and protruding out of the water when the tide is high, indicate the situation of each nursery, and the respective owners are guided by these sign-posts when gathering in their mussels with the aid of the peculiar rake- nets that enable the occupants of the boats to seize their prey when hidden from view by the water. Not till the rising tide sweeps over the beds can the fishing fleet, bent on procuring the necessary supply for the day’s sale, go forth from the little harbour situated some miles inland, all the fishing in the nurseries being done from the boat when the state of the tide makes it practicable. Under favourable conditions a year and a half is sufficient time for the mussels to remain in their new home, but sometimes an additional half year or more must be allowed before they have attained their full growth and are ready to be raked up from their resting-place. Then, after undergoing a careful washing, they are packed in sacks and sent to different parts of Northern Europe. But the mussel is not a good traveller, and is apt to suffer on a long journey, especially during the heat of summer. On this account its dispatch is arranged, as far as possible, to take place during. the cool weather. Every Wednesday during the season the little RAKING UP MUSSELS FROM THE FATTFNING-REDS FOR EXPORT. From a Photograph,

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MUSSEL - FARMING. 448 From a) harbour of Philippine presents a particularly animated appearance. It is on that day that this popular source of the dainty mussel sends forth the maximum supplies by boat and rail, never too large to satisfy the demand on the part of the thousands of consumers who partake of no meat on Fridays. In August and September as many as a thousand to fifteen hundred sacks, each containing nearly two hundred pounds of mussels, are dispatched every Wednesday from Philippine alone. Holland, Belgium, and France are the best customers of the Philippine mussel - farmers, but quite a number of the cherished shell-fish find their way across the Channel from the Dutch beds to the Britishers’ dinner-table. In Philippine mussels form, one may say, the staple food of the popuia- tion. They are consumed in every possible MUSSELS FROM THE “ FARM” RE DISPATCHED RY TRAIN TO ALL From a) CONTINENT, [Photograph. z GOING ASHORE WITH A BOATLOAD OF THE BIVALVES, manner, stewed, fried, in soups, in gravies, and with particular relish alive. It has been calculated that two or three years after the mussels have been taken from their first place of abode, thanks to the assistance of mankind, the value of the transplanted shell-fish has increased twenty- fold, so that it is obvious the Dutchmen have been by no means losers in the transaction with their neighbours the Belgians. ! Belgium itself is not natu- rally adapted for the rearing of mussels after the method adopted by the Dutch, yet the country has its mussel- parks, . though they are (Photograph. constructed and worked upon an entirely different plan. Here cemented reservoirs take the place of the muddy bed, and these are regularly flushed out every week and fresh sea-water let in. The object of this arrangement is, however, generally to provide a temporary resting-place for the already full-sized mussels imported from Holland. The Belgian “parks” are merely supposed to be a sort of intermediate station between the great rearing centres in Holland and the sales- men—resting-places, as it were, erected by enter- prising dealers, who are thereby able to await satisfactory prices and meet a sudden rise in the demand, not to speak of the advantaged of ensur- ing the much-desired freshness of the article.

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ADRIFT IN A RUNAWAY’ AIRSHIP. By Victor Pirt-KETHLEY. One of the most thrilling experiences in the annals of aeronautics. Making an ascent in an airship of his own invention, a young Chicago balloonist lost control of it, and was driven by a gale across Lake Michigan, finally landing after a terrible voyage of a hundred and sixty miles in mid-air. MN September, 1906, @ a big fair was held at the little town of Oconto, Wisconsin. One of the advertised attractions was an ascent of the airship “ Columbia,” owned by a young balloonist of twenty-five —Captain William Matteray, of the Chicago Aeronaut Club. The vessel was a new one, valued at ten thousand dollars, and was of the Santos-Dumont dirigible balloon type, propelled by a small gasolene motor. Much public interest was aroused by the news of the intended ascent, and large numbers of people came to the fair ground in the hope of wit- nessing it. Captain Matteray waited a couple of days for favourable weather, but on the third the wind still remained too high for safety. of this further postponement the assembled crowd—someof whom had come a hundred miles to watch the flight —began to mur- CAPTAIN WILLIAM MATTERAY, THE DARING YOUNG AERONAUT. From a Photograph. On hearing That was enough for the daring young aeronaut. “If they think I’m a fraud,” he said, “there’s no way of proving I’m genuine but to make the trip.” So, much against his better judgment—for the scurrying clouds above showed the storm that was raging in high altitudes—he climbed into the framework of the big airship and started his motor. About half- past five in the afternoon, with the propeller whirling merrily and the crowd, satisfied now, cheering themselves hoarse, the “Columbia” shot gracefully sky- wards. Two minutes later, as Matteray had feared, she was being whirled eastwards towards the Great Lakes at dizzy speed in the grip of the gale. Realizing his danger, the young ‘aeronaut strove to direct the airship into a calmer zone, but presently, to his dismay, the little motor lashed to the framework broke down, leaving the big balloon at mur angrily. Like crowds the world over, they disliked the idea of having to forego the spectacle they had expected to see, and some of them were not slow to express the opinion, in no measured terms, that the whole thing wasa “fake,” and that Captain Matteray never in- tended to go aloft at all. the mercy of the wind, which drove it onwards at ever -increasing speed. Looking down, Matteray saw that hehad been blown over Green Bay, an arm of Lake Michigan; ten thousand feet be- low he could see the waves gleam- ing in the dying sunshine. Obvi- ously it was of no MATTERAY'S AIRSHIP, THE ‘ COLUMBIA.” Frov a Photograph. use trying to land there. ;

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ADRIFT IN A RUNAWAY Ere long it began‘to get dark, and, judging that he was now over dry land again, the aeronaut descended. Lower and lower swooped the balloon, till presently Matteray heard an all- too-familiar sound, and an instant later found himself submerged up to the waist in ice-cold water. Hurriedly he flung out some ballast, AIRSHIP. : 447 speechless wonderment, to catch the trailing anchor-rope. But the mariner was not taking any risks; he replied cynically that “he wasn’t in the catching business,” and the balloon drove helplessly away. It would have been an easy matter to have pulléd the “Columbia” down then, but the seaman probably feared to meddle [EBOYGAN WoLVERINE Where Air Ship Landed THIS MAP SHOWS THE LOCALITY OF CAPTAIN MATTERAY'S TERRIBLE VOVAGE—THE DISTANCE TRAVELLED WAS APPROXIMATELY A HUNDRED AND SIXTY MILES AS THE CROW FLIES. but still the “Columbia” did not rise, and at last he chopped away the fastenings and tumbled his now useless engine overboard: Relieved of its weight, the airship rose again—up and up till she was in the clouds once more—still driving before that relentless wind. Wet to the skin and half dead with cold, the young balloonist clung to the crazy bamboo framework beneath the balloon —a structure so frail that one mis- step in the darkness would have hurled him through space to destruction. Grimly he wondered if the pleasure-loving crowd whose teproaches had sent him on this life-and-death voyage thought that he had “made good” and tetrieved his reputation. And so the hours passed away, with the helpless balloon still driving onwards, till at length the aeronaut decided to make another attempt to land. Descending, he discovered that he was still above Lake Michigan. He could see nothing but water all around, but saw several big vessels close at hand. By skilful manceuvring he got down to within fifty yards of one large steamer, and called to the only man visible on deck, who was watching him in with a contrivance he did not understand, in case he might damage his own vessel. Night had now set in, and black darkness was all around him, but Matteray tried another descent a short time afterwards, only to find himself still over the lake. Once again he plunged up to his hips in water, and had to throw out more ballast to save himself from drowning. After this third failure he rose and got into a higher atmosphere, where his wet clothes froze to his chilled body. The big gas- bag was dripping wet, and as soon as it struck the higher air the envelope became covered with a thick coating of ice. The additional weight and the intense cold seriously affected the buoyancy of the balloon, and several times during that never-to-be-forgotten night it sagged down perilously near the water, so that Matteray had to sacrifice nearly all his ballast to keep clear. He expected to be killed at any moment, but made up his mind that he would stick to his ship until the finish. He resolved, if the worst came to the worst, to cut loose the framework of the ship and float with the gas-bag/ Fortunately,

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WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “HE CALLED TO THE ONLY MAN VISIBLE ON DECK TO CATCH THE TRAILING ANCHOR-ROPE,”

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ADRIFT IN A RUNAWAY AIRSHIP. 449 however, this was not necessary. Once, through the all-encompassing darkness, he beheld far below two large illuminated patches which he subsequently discovered were in all probability the electric lights of the cities of Cheboygan and Petoskey. They faded away, however, far too rapidly for him to think of attempting a landing, and again he hurtled onwards through the night, not knowing whither he was going, but fearing that he was doomed to perish miserably some- where out in the waters of Lake Huron Tired, hungry, and well- nigh frozen, the plucky young aeronaut began to realize that he could not hold out much longer. More than once, through his growing weakness, he nearly pitched headlong from his insecure perch on the framework, and finally, to avoid such a catas- “trophe, he made a kind of net out of the landing-rope and lashed himself firmly to the bamboos. Then Nature stepped in, and though whirling he knew not whither, thousands of feet above the earth, he fell fast asleep! Surely man never slumbered under more appalling conditions Matteray must have remained in that stupor for a long time, for the next he remembered was being awakened by a violent jerk. Looking round him dazedly, he discovered that the framework of the airship was dragging through the tree-tops of a wood. Hastily unfastening his landing-rope, and improvising a lasso, he finally managed to make it fast to a branch and stay the derelict’s course. ‘Then he scrambled hurriedly to the ground, hauled the now flabby balloon with him, and moored it securely. Unfastening the canvas rudder, he made a bed out of it at the foot of the tree, and fell asleep again. He was awakened in the night by a big black bear. The animal came sniffing around, but did not attempt to do any harm, which was lucky for Matteray, seeing that he was quite unarmed and weak from exhaustion. Dozens of deer also came near him. ‘They would give a look at the strange shape in the air and then dash away in alarm. In the morning, stiff, sore, and very hungry, Matteray set off to try and find some human habitation. For four hours he struggled along through dense swamps, and at last, after ten miles of walking and wading, he found himself back at his starting-point, having travelled in a circle ! This discovery would have sufficed to break many a man’s resolution, after all that he had already endured, but Matteray was made. of sterner stuff. Taking careful bearings, he set off again, and finally, after a fifteen-mile tramp, reached the town of Wolverine, Cheboygan County, Michigan, in a pitiable condition. Next day, though still feeling the effects of his prolonged vigil in the clouds, he drove out to the scene of his landing to recover his airship. On reaching the spot, however, Captain Matteray found that a fresh misfortune had befallen him —the balloon had broken loose from its fasten- ings and disappeared! It was eventually found a few days later at a point some eighty miles distant, having sustained no serious damage. It is estimated that Captain Matteray travelled nearly a hundred and sixty miles, as the crow flies, during his thrilling voyage, at an average © altitude of from ten to fifteen thousand feet, and it is a miracle that he escaped with his life. Interviewed after his recovery, he was rather despondent at the loss of engagements caused by his sudden transition into Michigan and the damage to his balloon, but was cheered by the enthusiastic telegram that came from his managers in Chicago after they heard of his safe descent :— “Good for you! the world has ever seen. sent by express.” “No, I’m not going back by the airship route,” he said, when some would-be wag asked the question ; “I prefer a railroad train.” You're the best acronaut Your money has been | Che Detroit Tree Press a | SIX_BARTS — DETROIT, “MICHIGAN, SUNDAY, SFPTEMBER 8, 1006, —NIXTYTWO PAU LASHED TO FRAIL FRAMEWORK OF CAR EXHAUSTED AERONAUT SLEEPS AS AIRSHIP SPEEDS THROUGH THE CLOUDS Thrilling Experience of Capt. Wm, Mattery, Who Starting at Oconto Wis, Lost Control of His Airship and Was Blown Across Green Bay and Lake Michigan, Landing Near Wolverine, Mich., Alter Trip of 150 Miles in Midoir. FACSIMILE OF A CUTTING FROM THE * Vol. xx.-- 57. DETROIT FREE PRESS," DEALING WITH THE YOUNG AEKQNAUT'S EXDFRIFNCE

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v do the journey from Marseilles to | Batavia, the capital of Java, includ and Colombo for the purpose of coaling and taking in fresh supplies of food, and a break of two days at Singapore itself. From this port to Tandjong - Priok, the beautiful harbour of Batavia, which is said to have cost the Dutch Government over twenty - four million guilders to buihd, it is merely a journey of two and a half days. The wharf looked most interesting as we slowly approached it. It was lined from end to end with a motley crowdeof Europeans, Chinese, Arabs, Malays, and men of other races, dressed in their national costumes, and most of them holding coloured paper “ pajongs ” (parasols) and cotton umbrellas over their heads as a protection against the tropical sun, which is particularly frerce at the hour of noon, when we arrived. No sooner was the gangway in place than a rush was made on deck, where friends and relatives were welcomed effusively, the hotel porters in the meanwhile handing the cards of their employers and offering rooms at the different hotels. Batavia is called by the Dutch “ The Queen of the East,” and is divided into the old and new towns. The Europeans do not, however, reside in the old town, which is entirely taken up by the office-buildings and “go-downs” (warehouses) of the merchants, and by Chinese houses and shops, mostly built along the side of SIGHTS AND SCENES IN JAVA. By PAULINE AGANOOR. A chatty little article, by a former resident, describing and illustrating some interesting phases of life in the beautiful island of Java. the principal river. The residential part of the new town is called “ Weltevreden,” and the short journey from the wharf to Weltevreden can be undertaken either by rail, in dilapidated-looking victorias called “kréta kossong” (empty carriage), or in a quaint two-wheeled cart called “dos-a- dos” (back-to-back), or ‘“‘sado,” as the natives have named it for short. These carts are drawn by single ponies, and you have to sit with your back almost touching the back of the driver. I was driven to my destination in one of them, but what with the jolting of the cart and the unpleasant sensation of being in such close proximity to a perspiring native, I frankly con- fess that I did not enjoy my drive. At last we arrived at Koningsplein, a large square lined with splendid avenues of tamarind trees All round this square are the best houses of Batavia, with the Governor-General’s palace occupying the finest position, facing the distant volcanic mountains, Salak and Gedeh. The other houses, mostly built in the Corinthian style, with marble floors and standing in their own beautiful grounds, are inhabited by Government officials of high rank and by rich families. It takes nearly an hour to walk right round this imposing square, which is also used by the members of the football, cricket, and tennis clubs as their recreation ground. Life among the Europeans in the towns of Java is taken pretty easily, in a manner suitable to the tropical climate. The ladies are, perhaps, better off than the men, who are mostly mer- chants and have to go to—business,from g a.m,

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SIGHTS AND SCENES IN JAVA. 451 till 4 or § p.m., when they return home for tea and a well-merited rest on the cane lounges in their pyjamas and stockingless feet. During business hours the men wear white drill suits, but visitors from Europe are generally greatly surprised at the costume adopted by the ladies during the day and for the sake of coolness. It is an improved imitation of the native women’s garments, consisting of ‘‘sarong” and “ kabaya,” and they remain in this costume until after tea, when they dress in the European style for their afternoon drive and visiting between six and eight. The “sarong,” which takes the place of a skirt, can be a veritable work of art, entirely hand-woven in silk mixed with gold and silver threads, or hand-painted by a special process with coloured wax, called “batik,” which never comes off in the washing; or simply printed, which is of the cheapest kind, costing about two shillings each, whereas the other kinds may cost from a pound up to ten or more, according to the work put into them. The designs are often mythological, and generally worked from memory by the clever native women-artists. The “ kabaya,” which is a short, loose jacket, when worn by the native women is made of print material, whereas that worn by European ladies is of different kinds of white muslin trimmed with lace, and fastened in front with gold pins studded with precious stones. A JAVANESE ‘'VASSAR,” OK MARKET. People in Java are early risers, and it is not an uncommon sight to see groups of families _with children and their “baboes” (nurses) taking their constitutional around the “ plein” as early as six o'clock. The first meal of the day begins with a delicious cup of coffee, such as the Dutch only understand how to make, taken just before going for a walk. Breakfast, more or less like our own, is at eight o’clock. ‘Then comes a kind of between meal at eleven o'clock, consisting of a cup of “bouillon” and a biscuit. Half- past twelve or one is the hour for the famous “ryst-tafel” (rice-table). At this meal you are served with a soup-plate of rice with which curries, fish, meat, fowls in different guise, pickles, and about a dozen sorts of “ sambals,” or savouries, prepared with strong chillies and other ingredients, are handed round. By the time you have made your choice of these innumerable dishes. and helped yourself to a small portion of each, you will find that every es of the snow-white rice which formed the oundation of your “ryst-tafel” has entirely disappeared beneath the huge pile on your plate. And now you wonder how you are going to begin eating it all! The best thing is to watch those who are accustomed to attack their daily “ryst-tafel” and follow their example. I have seen visitors from Europe look almost 77 1Q. Aurkdjian,

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452 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ashamed at what they consider the too voracious appetites of the Java residents for what we call lunch at home. But after trying a “ ryst-tafel” a Yew times, the stranger will feel bound to admit that it is certainly a most appetizing meal. It is, therefore, not very surprising that after such a huge lunch it is deemed necessary by the ladies to retire to bed for at least a two hours’ rest. The male members of the family get their “‘ryst-tafel” taken to their offices on A FAMILY OF JAVANESE NOBLES, WITH THE GOLDEN UMBRELLA THAT INGICATES THEIR From a Photo. by\ RANK. hot dishes by the ‘toekan-makanan” (food- carrier). Dinner in the European style is served at most houses at eight-thirty. Eatables are exceedingly cheap in Java. Fowls are sold alive at about four to five shillings a dozen, and they form the principal dishes prepared in various ways by the clever Malay cook. The natives of Java live in what are called “ kampongs ” (settlements), in small huts with thatched roofs, surrounded by banana and cocoanut trees, beneath which their nude children play and ream the whole day long. An interesting place to visit in order to study the natives is a ‘“‘passar” (market), where you see them in their element. There they congre- gate in great numbers, buying and selling at quaint little booths. These are full of all kinds of articles, from works of art in gold and silver down to the ordinary necessaries of life, such as fish, meat, poultry, and delicious tropical fruits, amongst which are several quite unknown in this coun- try — ramboettans, _doekoes, durians —ill-smelling, but nevertheless very tasty—man- goes, and mangosteens. These last have never yet been suc- cessfully imported into Europe, on account of their extreme delicacy. There is no such thing as pushing or fighting in the crowded markets, for the native is calm and collected and generous in his dealings. One does certainly see a few native policemen about in the “‘passar,”. but their services are hardly ever required. The Dutch Government ap- point a “regent” to superin- tend each “ kampong,” and he is assisted in his task of main- taining law and order amongst the community in whose midst he lives by a Dutch “ Assistant- Resident,” whose rank is next to that of the Resident. A “regent” must be a member of the native nobility, most of whom are splendid types of men—tall, well-featured, and of proud bearing. As the “regents” are Mahommedan by religion they are permitted to have more than one wife, but the eldest is looked upon as the Royal wife, with the title of “ Raden-Ajoe ” ; like Her husband she associates with the Europeans and is treated with the respect due to her rank. I had the pleasure once of paying a visit to the “regent” and “ Raden-Ajoe” of Sourabaya on the occasion of a Javanese New Year, when IJ was delighted with the refined manners of my host and hostess and their charming way of welcoming their European friends at their “ pendoppo” (house), which was furnished in semi-European style. We were treated that afternoon to some native music and dancing, whilst the servants presented (0. Kurkdjian.

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SIGHTS AND SCENES IN JAVA. 453 From a Photo. by) us with refreshments. When they took the tray containing wines, sweets, or cigars to their “regent,” they went on their knees before him, which struck me as exceedingly quaint. I found out afterwards, however, that every native does the same, whether -he is in the streets or any- where else, as soon as the “ regent ” approaches, either in his carriage or walking, with a golden DANCING GIRLS GIVING A PERFOKMANCE, (0. Kurkajian. umbrella held above his head. The chief amusement of the natives is to attend a per- formance by actors and dancers accompanied by their orchestra, or “ gammelang,” which is made up of noisy and monotonous ‘instruments, sounding much better from a distance. The photograph given above depicts the performance of two girls, who take turns in

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454 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. dancing before their audience to the accompani- ment of a “gammelang” and their own shrill voices. Every serpentine movement of their limbs and bodies expresses some poetical mean- ing, which is only understood and appreciated, I fear, by the natives themselves. The majority of these young women are clad in a “sarong- batik,” fastened under the arms, leaving the shoulders and arms quite bare with the exception of a “slendang,” or thin silk sash, lightly thrown over the shoulders and sometimes held in. the hands during a dance. The photograph at the bottom of the previous page shows a quaint the native mind, it would be a deliberate invita- tion to the gods to shower ill-luck on the newly: wedded couple, who would most certainly be speedily divorced if their family neglected to arrange for the attendance of various troupes of performers on the wedding-day. The next photograph shows a wedding pro- cession on its way home from the “ missigit” (mosque), where the religious part of the ceremony takes place. The bride, with head modestly bowed, was seated in a high Sedan- chair carried by coolies. She was dressed in bright red silks, with a crown of jasmine on her A NATIVE WEDDING PROCESSION, SHOWING THE BKIDEGROOM AND HIS WITNESSES ON HORSEHACK. From a Photo. by O. Kurkdyian. performance in pantomime. The scene to be acted is first explained by the “dalang,” or prompter of the troupe. He does this in “poetical language, conveying to his audience the glorious deeds of his ancestors, and feeding their imagination with exciting pictures of those ancient times when they were still ruled by Hindu princes. No festivity of any kind would be considered complete without at least one performance of this description, particularly on the occasion of a wedding, when the parents of the bride and bridegroom would rather spend their last cent than go without it. In fact, to a head and gold-embroidered slippers on her feet. As ornaments she wore a long gold chain and many handsome jewels. She would have looked exceedingly pretty for her type of beauty, had she not spoiled her face by thickly pasting over it some yellow powder called ‘“boreh.” The bridegroom, also dressed in red, with some of the same atrocious powder disfiguring his face, preceded the bridal Sedan-chair on horseback, together with his relatives and friends, who had acted as chief witnesses to the marriage cere- mony at the mosque.,-Such_a | procession, accompanied bythe inevitable’ ‘¢gammelang,”

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SIGHTS AND SCENES IN JAVA. From a Photo. by) generally passes through many streets, to the great delight of the native population. The Javanese are on the whole a very peace- ful and contented race. frugal, and manage to exist on next to nothing so long as they have enough rice, which is the staple food, with a little dried fish, meat, and They have a wonderful manner of chillies. JAVANESE RICE-FIELDS~ NOTICE THE WONDERFUL SYSTEM OF IRRIGATION, They are clean and _ (0. Kurkdjian. cultivating’ rice, as shown in the* foregoing photograph. The public streets in the towns of Java are daily swept and kept clean by native convicts, a group of whom are seen in the next phofograph. They go to work chained together in parties of twenty or thirty, under the superintendence of bare-footed native soldiers, clad in_ ill-fitting THE STREETS ARE KEPT IN ORDER BY GANGS OF CONVICTS GUARDED BY ARMED SOLDIFKS. From a Photo. by O. Kurkdjian.

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456 uniforms, who would instantly shoot their charges down if they tried tq escape during their working time, when they are unchained. One of the curious sights I had the privilege of witnessing at Sourabaya was the taking of the oath by some Balinese witnesses during a trial for treason. * Bali is an island to the east of Java, and also a Dutch possession ; the islanders are followers of Buddha. The trial of the traitor, who was a Balinese, took place at Sourabaya before some From a Photo. by) WITNESSES FROM AN OUTLY! European judges, who, like myself, were in- terested onlookers at the taking of the oath by the witnesses to their Buddhist priest. First of all we saw a rough bamboo temple erected on a plot of grass facing the Courts of Justice. Then the men and women who were witnesses in the case squatted on the grass around the temple, with bent heads and serious faces. Now the priest, with uplifted hand, com- menced the ceremony with lengthy prayers, occasionally interrupted by the ringing of a G ISLAND THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. small hand-bell. At the end of the prayers att attendant approached him, holding a pot of water, which the priest blessed, and into which he threw small pieces of a leaf called “lontar,” inscribed with formulas pronouncing anathemas on all concerned in the trial should they fail to keep strictly to their oath. The priest took very good care to read aloud to the witnesses the terrible threats inscribed on the “lontar” leaf before casting it into the pot of water. When this part of the ceremony was concluded the oie 4 TAKING THE OATH TO THEIR ir (0. Kurkdjian. witnesses damped their foreheads and wrists with the consecrated water, after which the earthen pot was broken to pieces. When this long and strange ceremony at last came to an end, the judges, followed by the Balinese wit- nesses, entered the courts and commenced cross-examining them in the witness-box, where none of them would dare to commit perjury after being so solemnly adjured by their priest - to speak nothing but the truth. One of the chief characteristics of the Javanese

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458 THE WIDE WORLD is their love of all kinds of sports, and there is perhaps none they delight in more than a tiger- fight, called “rampok” in the native tongue. ‘The “rampok” is an annual festival, which is held at the different Sultans’ “ kratons,” or palace enclosures. A “kraton” is quite a square mile in extent, enclosed within huge walls fourteen feet in height and fifteen feet in thickness, and it can almost be likened to a city in itself, for, besides the palace, it encloses houses, shops, streets, lakes, canals, and plains. Within this enormous enclosure several thousand souls can live comfortably. The Sultan of Djokjakarta—one of the most important native rulers of Java—lives with his family and dependents in a “kraton,” in which he is practically a State prisoner of the Dutch Government, with an allowance of about ten thousand pounds a year to keep up his dignity ; but in return he pays into the Dutch Exchequer a yearly revenue in kind, from the rich products of his lands, greatly exceeding that allowance in value. Facing the principal entrance of the “kraton” is an “aloun-aloun,” a long-shaped square, kept spotlessly clean, and bordered by avenues of magnificent old waringins, the most sacred trees of the island. On the day of the “rampok” feast, eight to ten cages containing the Sultan’s tigers are placed in the centre of the square, facing the grand stand, where the Sultan, his family, and the European guests will presently take their seats. na In the meanwhile, thousands of spearmen, holding lances with sharp points, and sightseers, who have a free entrée to-the “kraton” on that day, surround the square. When everybody is in his place the Sultan gives a signal for the sport to commence. Two unarmed men then approach one of the cages, pull up the trap-door, and run away as speedily as they can. But more often than not the poor tiger, which has been kept a prisoner in a small cage for a long time, refuses to budge from his crouching MAGAZINE. position. In that case a pistol is fired in his vicinity, which frightens him and induces him to spring out of his cage. He then makes straight for the mass of humanity which forms a thick wall all round him. Seeing so many lances aimed at him, however, he pauses suddenly and reflects. Then he takes a sulky walk round the square, meeting with the same obstacle everywhere. Now the spearmen gently prick him, just to excite him and induce him to spring at them. ‘The maddened creature takes a sudden high jump in the air, but is caught on the points of several lances, which roll him back into the squaré again. The tiger is now thoroughly roused. Snarling with pain and rage, he quickly recovers himself and makes another dash for freedom, but only to meet with the same fate each time he essays to pass that wall of steel. At last the poor animal falls down dying from exhaustion, when he is quickly and mercifully dispatched by the spearmen. Thus the “sport” continues, until all the tigers—for which the Sultan pays high prices—are dead. On one occasion a tiger, by some lucky fluke, " managed to gain his liberty in a manner which greatly alarmed the spectators. He took a tremendously high jump, clearing the uplifted spears easily, and landed on the heads of the onlookers behind the spearmen, who, shrieking in terror and trampling upon each_ other, soon made room for the terrified animal to dash out of the open gate and back to his own kingdom in the wild tropical forests of the island. Java is a land none too well known by Euro- peans, and yet it is easily reached from Singapore. Those who contemplate a trip to China and Japan via the Straits Settlements would do well, I think, to include a short visit to that beautiful tropical island, which would well repay them for their trouble. ‘The journey from Singapore to Batavia can be undertaken either ina Messageries Company’s boat or in one of the comfortable little Dutch steamers.

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To_p By WARNFORD WHITE AND SET DOWN BY Mounc SHway. This remarkable narrative shows how the actions of obscure individuals may sometimes bring about diplomatic upheavals that cause .kingdoms to fall. Filled with the idea, in the critical days of 1884, that Burma must either be seized by France or England, the narrator deliberately made up his mind to provoke a disturbance which should cause Great Britain to take decisive action. The story describes the strange and exciting events which followed his dramatic interview with the dreaded Middle Queen—events which culminated in the arrival of the British troops and the down- fall of Burma as an independent State. wy ONCERNING' this remarkable } narrative, the author—who prefers to be known by his Burmese nick- name—writes as follows: “ Anyone intimate with Upper Burma between 1885 and 1894 will remember the mysterious ‘White’ who flitted about apparently under a double personality, and finally married a Japanese girl and disappeared. From his lips I heard the story which appears below. As to its authenticity: who will ever know the truth about what happened in Mandalay in 1884? Among a cloud of witnesses only one man has told the story upon oath—my friend White. Living on the spot, among people who knew us both, and given the tale—backed by historical and documentary evidence—by the principal actor, I can neither prove nor disprove his state- ment ; I therefore set it down here just as it was told to me. Although I had only his word as to the interview with the Queen, I had ample chances of checking his other statements, and found nothing wrong with them. The question still remains for the student of history: Why did the cleverest woman in Asia destroy herself politically, and lose a million in jewels at the same time, for the sake of gratifying a temporary outburst of rage against an obscure white man who had dared to tell her the unpalatable truth upon the very steps of her throne?” Right or wrong, it was done. ‘The shrieks and shoutings had died away, the pickets were detailed for the night, and the palace was as I. silent and dark as a tomb. The regalia had gone, no one knew where or how, the King wasa prisoner, and the British had entered Mandalay. The Viceroy of India, the General Officer Commanding, and the Political Agent reaped their just reward ; but I, who brought the matter to a head and hastened the timely annexation of Upper Burma to the Empire, received no thanks whatever—nor did I expect them. The English officers looked at me savagely whén Prendergast and Sladin formally arrested the King in the palace garden, and it was only the obvious desire of the Royal family to see me shot or hanged which saved me from arrest as a traitor. Here is the story of how it all happened. When the Irrawaddy Trading Company’s big paddle-steamer lay coaling at the Schwetachaung, the captain was surprised by the arrival on board of Moung Myin, a notable of the blood Royal, with a large band of the King’s troops at his back, and no explanation was given why three Madrassi firemen were knocked on the head, the vessel cleared of all her cargo, and the captain marched off to the cells on the east side of the palace. This apparently trivial matter was among the many small affairs which made the Rangoon merchants’ blood boil, but on the grave and earnest advice of the grim old War Minister the King issued a mandate that for the present, at any rate, no more steamers were to be raided. There the matter might have lain for an indefinite period had it not been for the following circumstances,

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460 There came into my hands, no matter how, a volume containing photographs and printed matter giving details of a projected scheme for running a-rail and steamer service to Mandalay. It showed what a splendid thing it would be for the country that up-to-date transport of this kind should be instituted, and offered to do the job in style at a reasonable figure if it were given the chance, “it” being a well-known French company. On the cover of the book, in an illuminated scroll-cum- lozenge emblazonment, was written: “ ‘To His Majesty the Emperor of Burma.” * Now there is nothing in the world, barring actual conquest, so certain of spelling ‘“ Pro- tectorate” as a well-managed railway, and, although I like the French, it did not take me long to decide that I was much better fitted to push that railway scheme than the gentleman who was awaiting the next up- steamer to the “Centre of the Universe,” in order to present himself and his precious volume to the Burmese Government. ‘The mango season being in and dysentery being prevalent, there was nothing extraordinary in the fact that Monsieur became suddenly very ill and went into hospital at Rangoon for three weeks. I was not there. I set out for the wood at the back of the Shway Dagon the night after I got the book, and thence I rode to the landing-stage opposite Moulmein, and so up the river, arriving at the Mandalay shore a week later. An Englishman was comparatively a rarity there then, but I had a few friends dotted about, and walked ashore with a Gladstone bag and a book done up in oilskin without comment from the river-side people. I was no stranger to the place, and went straight from the shore to the palace in a gharri. ‘There I found, as I expected, that the King was still ailing and confined to the inner rooms, and that the Queen was as silent, invisible, and terrible as ever. A bedizened cart drawn by two white bullocks came past as I finished my talk with the guards, and a face I knew looked cut. It was the King’s masseur, an important and clever man, and a friend of mine. ‘here was not a flicker of recognition on his face or on mine either as we identified each other, but twenty minutes later I was seated on his dinner-mat eating for dear life while he told me, in a low, passionless voice, the sanguinary story of the accession—which I knew—and the details of the latest State murders, which I did not. In case it should be thought by anyone reading these lines that T acted a traitor’s part “* 1 saw this book on many uccasions afterwards, THe AUTHOR. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. to the King of Burma, I should like to make it clear at once how matters stood in Mandalay in the latter end of 1884, which is the time I write of. A clever, courageous, and beautiful woman, with no great pretensions to fortune or birth, had risen like a meteor into the Eastern sky a short time previously, and, being one woman in a million, had really grasped the fact that, pro- perly driven, any of the fifty Royal princes could usurp the throne of Burma on the death of the reigning King. She chose as her ally the Minister of State for War, who was also Commander-in-Chief, and had power of life and death over some twenty thousand troops. The old man, expecting but short shrift under a new King, threw in his lot with the woman, and the pair of them seated Theebaw, a young, respectable nonentity of a prince, on the Burmese throne by a coup a’état. Of course, there was a hullabaloo in the city and a worse row still in the palace, but the Commander-in-Chief soon made the people in the bazaar understand that it was unhealthy to meddle in politics, while the woman was proclaimed Middle Queen Wife and Lady High Executioner all in one day. Then the picked body-guard closed the palace doors and the “clearing” began. Every man, woman, and child inside the palace who had blood Royal in them was seized and boxed-up in the cells. ‘That night the Queen drugged the King, and His Majesty curled up for twenty-four hours. Early next morning she issued the death- warrant for the pretenders. She had a quick way with claimants, had the Queen. The men were struck with a club on the nape of the neck, the women across the apple of the throat, and their bodies were carted down to the Irrawaddy and dumped in. Close on one hundred persons were put to death. I don’t say the Queen was wrong. I only wish to point out that in what I did afterwards I was in- fluenced by a full knowledge of the sort of lady I had to deal with, and acted accordingly. As I sat, by the light of the fat-lamp, listening to old Co-La’s droning commentary on the ways of queens in general and the Supyalat in par- ticular, I was racking my brains for a plan by which I could be brought into the presence of the Queen, and trying to reconcile my liking for the country and its lazy, good-natured, pleasure- loving people with my fixed resolve to bring my own Government into conflict with the Palace. I slept at La’s house that night, and next morning went with him to the quarters of the War Minister over against the palace enclosure. As I walked through the gaudy, packed bazaar, with its thousands of shops all open to the road,

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THE QUEEN’S TEMPER. 461 its countless chattering women and children, its picturesque chaungs and temples, and the laughing, happy-go-lucky Burmese boys and men, all smoking, trading, talking, lounging, or eating in the open ways between the lines of quaint little houses, I felt a sudden gust of passionate hatred against the great inevitable crushing force which drives the white man forward over the necks of weaker races, uproot- ing their customs, demolishing their towns, fixing upon them alien and inferior peoples whom they despise and detest, and generally introducing everything that is orderly, hideous, and useful. I knew ‘that this delightful place must go, either to us or to the French—it was before the days of the enfente, remember—and nothing but the certain knowledge that Burma had to be annexed, or fall, like a ripe custard apple, into the lap of another Power, would have compelled me to do what I could towards the hastening of its fall. I was in a turmoil of thought when I suddenly became aware of a great uproar in the road ahead of me. I pressed forward into the mob, and by dint of push and the heavy riding-boots I wore came on the inner circle of a scene at once typical, cruel, and ludicrous. So long as he can be made to laugh, a Burmese is as harmless as a pigeon, but there were scorn and . anger mixed with the furious outbursts of mock-

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462 ing laughter to which this crowd of men, women, and boys had given rein. In the centre of the ring made by the crowd was a group of three persons. The cne who held the stage, as it were, was a great man with a stick in his hand. His blue cotton loongye, or Jong kilt, was girded into a cincture about his loins, and his long black hair had come un- knotted and fell around his body like a cape. He was standing over a miserable wretch of a Madrassi, and punctuating his remarks with heavy thwacks of the stick, indiscriminately administered over the head, face, arms, and body of his victim. The third figure of the group was a Burmese girl of about fifteen years of age, who stood there a perfect picture of shame and fear. “Get up, pig-man,” shouted the great Burman. “Get up! I have been looking for you three months past. You would rub soot on my face, would you? Better my daughter had died a thousand times than become the wife of such a thing as you, you black slug! Oh, was there ever such disgrace put upon a respectable oil merchant? But for the wicked waste of good light I would fill you with kerosene and set you on fire. Get up!” By this time the wretched cause of all this breeze was beginning to choke and gasp, so, thinking the fun had gone far enough, I stepped into the ring and laid hold of the Burman’s arm. “A million regrets,” I said, “ for my untimely interruption of so just a punishment, but this thing ”—I gave the Madrassi a swinging kick in the ribs— is wanted in Rangoon on a charge of theft, and he has to go by the steamer which leaves at midday. I shall never cease thanking you if you will postpone killing him until after he comes out of jail.” And, seizing the Indian by the scalp lock, I hauled him screaming into the press, and the mob closed round us. ‘To them I was merely a police-officer arresting a British subject, and all interest in him at once ceased as the crowd moved along and away in different directions. I hauled the wretched man to his feet, and, still kicking and cursing him to keep up appearances, I said, in Tamil, “ Run for the shore as if Shaitan was after you. There is a steamer just about leaving now.” He simply said, “For your honour’s soul I shall ever pray,” and was gone. T should not have described this incident but that it has a direct bearing on the events which followed fast upon it. The poor girl, whose stern parent had given her such an unholy showing-up in the bazaar, was in the habit of carrying the nightly supply of lamp-oil to the palace guard- room. ‘The wife of one of the guards was hair- comber to the Queen’s mother, and so, by an THE. WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. easily-followed set of chances, it happened that the girl’s story of her husband’s rescue from the hands of her father by the “Thakin with the Boots,” as she called me, passed from her to the guard, from him to his wife, and so on through the Queen’s mother to the Supyalat herself. When we arrived at the house of the War Minister I had to wait while Co-La went in and massaged the great man. The Burmans are great believers in massage, and often employ a child to walk all over the patient preparatory to his receiving a severe dressing from the artist himself. While 1 was lying on the mat spread for me in the outer veranda three girls of the Minister’s household came out to entertain me. One was smoking a silleh, or white, mild cheroot, a foot long, which she offered me turn and turn about with herself as a mark of friendship ; another brought scalding tea in tiny blue cups ; and the third proceeded to rig the family dulcimer between the veranda posts. This dulcimer was not the dainty little instrument beloved of Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales, but a generous wooden affair about three yards long, which boomed and throbbed in the bass notes like a bell ringing the Angelus, and whose treble was like the sharp, crisp clink on a blacksmith’s anvil. She played the same tune over and over again, until I knew every note of it, the long hammers with which she struck it flying fast and wide as she warmed to the work and put the pace on. She was in the midst of the melody when the tatties swung back, and the fiercest and most terrible man in Burma appeared on the veranda. It did not take me a moment to understand why the Queen had chosen Moung Miah to aid her in the coup a’état which set Theebaw on his throne. The man’s face was as quiet, inex- orable, and merciless as Fate: the sort of face that would not change a line if the muzzles of ten loaded rifles were pointed at it within arm’s length—as ready to suffer death as to inflict it. He stood an instant regarding me with eyes which met my own, point to point and look for look. I confess to an effort on my part not to look somewhere away from those overpowering orbs, but luckily proved equal to the occasion. I stood up and gave him a double salaam, Indian fashion—he was worth it. The girls flew out of the way like ghosts and we were alone. There is no verbose palaver and chatter in the politeness of a Burmese gentleman. Moung Miah simply said, “Sit!” and suiting the action sat down himself on one mat, pointing me to a better and more orna- mented one. Before saying another word he gravely reached for his tobacco hold-all, opened the inlaid top, and slid it towards me. There

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THE QUEEN’S TEMPER. 463 “THE MOST TEXKIRIE MAN IN BURMA AP/EARED ON THE VERANDA.” was the complete outfit set in the tray, which held spice, chewing-nut, white lime-leaf, and cheroots. I took the longer smoke, lit it, and, having drawn a full-lunged, thick white cloud, handed it tohim. He inhaled in silence for a few minutes, I, of course, waiting for him to begin. Then he said, “Speak.” I went straight to the point. I told him I had brought the book setting out the advantage of the French railway and steamer scheme, and that I wanted an audience with the Queen, in order to show her the photographs and explain the thing generally. He listened thoughtfully until I had finished. Then he told me more in five minutes than I should have learnt elsewhere in a week. “You come at an ill time. The King has taken to himself two new queens, one of whom he is much enamoured of. She plays cards well and sings also, and is with him all day. The

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464 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. other is little more than a child, and the King plays with her as a child would play. The Supyalat hates these two. They will die. Her Majesty’s mind is much exercised about the matter. Again, the Indian Government have warned the King that the seizure of English trade steamers on the Irrawaddy must cease, and the King has issued orders that no more are to be stopped. “The Supyalat hates the Indian Government, the steamers, and the company, and submission to the decree rankles in her bosom like a hot thorn. “Again, in the matter of the clearing and the keeping by. “The remaining prisoners who have not yet been executed have friends outside who have memorialized the Indian Government and begged for help. ‘The Queen, knowing what an excellent chance the clearing of the remainder would give the English to interfere, cannot see her way to signing the death-warrant for these persons, and the thought that possible claimants are still alive solely because the Indian Govern- ment may bring her to book is almost more than Her Majesty can bear. “There is no fear of trouble so long as the steamers are not stopped and the executions are, but it lies with the Queen whether this trouble comes or not. The Queen’s soul is therefore hot within- her. I say, accordingly, that you come at an ill time.” It struck me at once that Moung Miah would not have told me all this without a set purpose, and I was wondering why he should have so completely put me in possession of facts which enabled me to use the knowledge of them against his Government if so minded. I could only conclude that he was, for some reason, willing to aid in bringing about a collision between the Palace and Simla for his own ends, and, as will presently appear, this was exactly what he wanted. Had I known then that the regalia, valued at a quarter of a million, and the hereditary jewels, worth nearly double that sum, were to completely disappear on the day of our entry into Mandalay, I might have held the key to the situation in so far as he was concerned, but as it was I could only thank him for the excel- lent advice given and leave the ulterior reasons to take care of themselves. ‘That he was speak- ing the truth I did not doubt for an instant, because it would have been easy enough though slower, for me to have gathered it piecemeal from my numerous acquaintances, male and female, who had access to the palace. “1 thank you,” I said, “ for your information and advice, but wish submission I would still see the Queen if I could.” I watched his face almost too intently, I am afraid, as I said this, but failed to detect the slightest shade of either approval or the reverse upon that mahogany-coloured countenance, burned to more than Burmese darkness of skin by the fierce suns which had scorched it through fifty years of strife and bloodshed. “ You must please yourself,” he said, and gave a short, sharp bark over his shoulder. Instantly the hanging-screen parted and the eldest girl appeared. ‘‘ My umbrella and sandals. I shall not eat at home again to-day. Go!” In a minute more we were on the road to the west entrance to the palace. ‘The crowd: parted right and left with a scuttling alacrity, which showed my companion was not only known but respected. The babel of voices at the gate ceased as we appeared, and everyone, guards and all, squatted on their heels as Moung Miah stalked through into the blockhouse enclosure which guards that entrance to the Royal garden. The gate crashed home behind me, and I felt that for better or for worse I was wedded to the course I had chosen. Without a word we crossed the bridge which leads to the scarlet and gold doorway of the west wing, up the narrow flight of steps, and on to the terrace or platform. The latter was a mass of colour ; upwards of a hundred women dressed in all the hues of the rainbow—in white soft silks and muslins, their hair and throats ornamented with scented flcwers—were standing, sitting, or lying in front of the building, which glowed in the sun like a giant golden bride-cake flecked with blood. The palace is the biggest wooden building in the world, and it looks it. It is considered bad manners to stare at strangers in Burma, and although I knew I was as much an object of curiosity as my guide was one of fear, I was not aware of anyone gazing directly at my face. We turned sharp to the right and then to the left, threading our way between a dozen of the smaller buildings till we emerged upon a_ large grassy lawn beyond which lay, piled up roof upon roof, until it culminated in the never-silent ‘Tee or mitre-sshaped umbrella composed of metal hung with bells, the main building of the “Centre of the Universe.” I have read of a South Sea kinglet whose Court, secretariat, executive, and body-guard we1e composed entirely of women, but never before had I dreami of seeing in a civilized Court like this such a mass of femininity as surrounded the sacred person of the Burmese King. The whole place seemed alive with ladies, most of them young, who appeared to be eternally coming and going and yet never doing anything. Iam told—I don’t know whether it is true—that there were seven

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THE QUEEN’S TEMPER. % 465 hundred women attached to the palace itself, to say nothing of scores who came in and out to and from the city every day. At last, when we reached the inner railing of the lawn, Moung Miah said, “Stay here ; I will go in and speak to the Supyalat.” It was at this juncture that my heart, for some reason or other, began to go steadily down into my boots, for, alas! I am not, and shall never be, a hero. There arose in my mind the picture of the impalements and the crucifixions I had already seen—the fate of the Royal princes and princesses, whose bodies even now were bobbing about in the lower reaches of the Irrawaddy ; the total disappearance of a certain Scotch The leader said briefly and emphatically, “Come!” I stayed a moment out of bravado to wipe my face and give an extra twirl to my moustache before I obeyed. ‘Then I advanced towards my fate. We clanked across the inner yard, and the captain opened a door. ‘In here,” he said. Then the door was shut and the bolts shot home. I was in for it! I will not oppress you with further details of my feelings during that eternal night. My oné consolation was that I was not married, and that my mother was dead. Apparently there was no immediate wish to treat me ill. I was given a tub and towels, a large mat, tobacco, and, later on, curried fish, rice, fruit, and brandy. Sena SS ee engineer who had been last seen entering this place some three months previously; the murder of the stokers on board the Shan ; the prisoners only a few yards away from where I stood, who were awaiting execution for no crime at all except that they were born upon certain charpoys and sleeping-mats. Last, but not least, I thought of the inscrutable, iron-eyed face of the relentless old firebrand who had just left me to see, on my behalf or otherwise, a woman who, if it suited her, would count my life of no more moment than that of a beetle in the roadway. I was here under false pretences, carrying a French book which I could scarcely read, pretending to represent a firm who would, if communicated with, repudiate me with fond delight, and quite rightly. At last, when the sweat had soaked through every stitch I had on, I was brought to a sicken- ing sense of my position by the appearance of a captain of the King’s guard and ten soldiers, who came round a corner of the Queen’s quarters and headed straight for me. I muttered a prayer and waited for them. Vol. xx.—59. In the grey of the morning I awoke and, having bathed and dressed, awaited what luck might bring me. It was high noon when the door opened and the captain of the body-guard appeared. He told me to come out, and I noticed for the first time that he was not a Burman, but a half-caste Indo-European dressed in the native Burmese costume. For some reason or other he seemed to have taken an instant aversion to me, and his behaviour was truculent and overbearing to a ‘degree. Think- ing, probably, that I was in a tight place, he made no bones about treating me with scant ceremony—a thing which, under the circum- stances, no Burman of good position would have been guilty of. He even went so far as to lay his hand upon my shoulder. The English in India are not accustomed to being pawed by Eurasians, and I felt my gorge rise as I turned and faced him. ‘“ Unhand me, jarnwar!” I said, in so venomous a voice that he dropped his hand and half drew his dah. Then, recover- ing himself, he snarled, “A rat was caught in a

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466 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. gin. ‘I will frighten it with my teeth,’ said he.” “Yes,” I retorted, “but the gin was set by the owner. You can buy a gin for four annas.” This shut him up for the moment, but I booked him mentally as a person who would get his reward if I got clear of my present difficulty. We marched along the alleyway to the place where the Queen usually spent the heat of the day, and thence into the Lion Throne Room.* Out of all custom and precedence the place was crowded, although the King was not there. A silence fell over the Court as I was led in, and the throng parted right and left as I was officiously pushed by my jailer into the centre of the room. Then, as if by preconcerted signal, the whole crowd of men and women sat down on the floor and I was left standing alone in the centre facing the throne of Burma. Below it was a vermilion lacquered chair traced with gold filigree-work and studded with bright stones. Upon this sat a woman. She sat in the European fashion—knees and ankles close together and feet on the ground. Her hands, which were pale saffron colour, each held an arm of the chair. She was dressed in the split skirt of Burma, which in walking shows the inside of the left leg, but in the sitting posture remains slightly overlapping and completely covering the limbs. The colouring of her dress was crimson, yellow, and green, encrusted with gold thread. On her body from the waist up she wore a flowered muslin short jacket which fastened with one jewel on the shoulder and hung without further ornament down to and outside of the skirt. Round her neck was the inevitable silk scarf or stole. Bright corn-green and twelve feet long, it hung over her breast to the ground on both sides like a green sunbeam, the fierce glare from the outside darting a pencil of light upon her through some small windows high overhead. Her hair was black and smooth, piled coil on coil for eight inches above her head, secured at the centre by a huge flat gold comb and coronetted at half its height with jasmine flowers laced with silver thread. I stood at gaze for a moment, for I was unused to the room and had been brought in from the sunshine outside, but quick as thought I staked all on immediate action and, advancing towards the throne, I brought my heels together and saluted. It was thus I first saw the Supyalat face to face. The guards sprang forward and the captain would have seized me and held me away farther, but the Queen, who had never taken her eyes from mine since I faced her, brought her hands * The Prince of Wales visited this room on his recent tour.—THE AuTHoR. together once and then pointed to the door, saying, “Outside, you! Let the Kullah remain.” The captain and his men faded out of the circle on the instant, but I noticed that the Eurasian took up a position on the coping of the platform outside, from which he covered me with his Snider at point-blank range, and at a sign from the Supyalat could have drilled me clean without hurting the sitting crowd which surrounded me. I stood and faced the woman who had waded’ to the throne by such a bloodstained by-path, and waited for her to speak. As I looked at her I tried hard to analyze my feelings towards her—whether admiration or fear, or both, or neither, was the ruling sentiment. There have been many diverse opinions expressed as to the facial aspect and character of the Middle Queen, Some say she was beautiful, fascinating, and voluptuous, haughty, brave, and a genius ; others, that she was repulsive, ugly, and bad- tempered, but possessed of a certain low cunning. To the Burmese and some few Europeans she was the former, to the average white man she was the latter; but these last never saw her at the height of her power, but merely as a prisoner hurried away from her place and station in company with a broken King and a dozen frightened women. As nearly as one can describe her in writing, she was about five feet three inches in height, straight and stiffly built, with a substantial waist like all Burmese women, a softly-rounded throat and shoulders, small feet and hands, and a wealth of beautiful hair; but not in these lay her beauty, mediocrity, or ugliness—which you . will. It was in the broad, low forehead, the high Mongolian cheek-bones, the large, firm, full-lipped mouth and strong white teeth, the jaw which closed with the strength of a tiger- trap—and the eyes. They were eyes which showed no white, which gleamed black and sombre, or glowed dull red and changed to indigo, which seemed now to meet and form one omniscient, piercing eye, now to divide into two deep, black, half-closed slits over which the long, dense lashes cast a curtain that only half- veiled the fierce and all-devouring soul of the woman within. During the silence which followed the with- drawing of the guards, the Queen sat like a graven image looking at me. Then she sud- denly spoke in a soft, purring voice, which, however, was perfectly audible all over the room. “ By what right did you arrest a man in the city yesterday with violence and send him away out of Mandalay hot-foot to the steamer which left last evening at sundown ?” For the life of me I could not decid: what

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THE QUEEN'S ‘TEMPER. *“ Tr WAS THUS THAT I FIRST SAW THE SUPVALAT FACE TO FACE.” answer it was best to make. If I said, “ Because he was being horribly beaten by a man much bigger than himself,” which was the truth, she and all present would think I was a brainless, interfering fool, not fit to be at large, and I should probably be beaten to a jelly and chased down to the river by the mob. If I said, “Because he was a British subject, and it was my duty to my Government to see he got fair play,” I should be made an example of to show others that here, at any rate, it was better to be a live Burman than a British subject on a charred stick. Accordingly I chose a specious lie. I said :— “For the sake of the poor girl, who was horror-stricken at the ‘imminent death of her husband.” . |

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468 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. For a single glaring second those onyx eyes burned red with anger. Then the Queen laughed—a soft, seductive, quiet laugh like a woman who is being caressed by a hand she loves. “Oh!” she murmured, “this is good. This is going to be most antusing—so amusing that I cannot share it with anyone else. Go, my friends, go and eat kow-sway or drink tea or sleep—only go, and go right away! And,” she added, and her voice changed to the imperative mood, with a knife in every syllable, “if I see or hear anyone before I will it, 1 shall be very sad and unhappy to-morrow at sunrise.” The impassive faces of the men and women as they rose and went showed no surprise, no curiosity, no resentment. Such an idea as questioning the absolute right of the Supyalat to do with them as she liked never even occurred to them. It was an order that there be a going, and they went—without haste but without lagging. “You too,” she said, turning towards the guards; “and Diaz,” she added, ‘Diaz, you villain, come here!” ; The Eurasian came slowly forward to where I stood, and the white Portuguese blood in him made it impossible for him to hide the hatred and the jealousy in his heart. “Diaz, go and stand in the sun outside the King’s sleeping-chamber and send Ma Kin to me if he leaves his rooms, Well! what are you standing there for?” I almost admired the man’s fortitude in risk- ing her displeasure thus. It was the drop of white blood in him again which made him ques- tion for a moment her steel-shod authority. “TI wished to tell your Majesty that I have not searched this man’s clothing for fire-arms.” “Unnecessary zeal, Diaz. The English are not like some peoples, who would murder a woman in cold blood for political considerations, but I will excuse you this once. Now go!” She gave him scarcely more than a glance, but he went, white to the teeth. This was the greatest attempt at questioning her command that I was ever to witness, save one. As he went he gave me a look which spélt murder, if ever I have seen it, and I wager I have. I was up against something bigger than a jealous Portuguese half-caste, however, and I very soon knew it. “ Have you ever seen the inside of a prison before to-day ?” she asked. “No,” [replied ; “I have not.” “Well,” she said, “if you tell any more lies you will. You can sit. I want your attention, and you have stood long enough. ‘Why did you arrest that man in the bazaar yesterday ?” “ Because he was being beaten to death.” “Ts that the truth?” “Your Majesty has warned me. It ss the truth.” “What a fool you must be! What is that book you have there?” <. “The gift of a French company to the King of Burma.” “ How did you come by it?” “T stole it.” “Why?” “Because I wanted to present it myself.” “ Why ? ” “Tt was an excuse for gaining an audience with your Majesty.” “To what end?” “T wanted to warn your Majesty of the extreme danger you run if you carry out your intention of putting the remaining princes to death.” : : “Ts this warning of yours prompted by self- interest or such another folly as caused you to interfere on behalf of that dog of a Madrassi yesterday in the bazaar?” she asked. “ Both,” I replied. “ Are you in the pay of the Indian Govern- ment.” “No” “What will be the consequence if I get rid of the rest of the prisoners ?” “Tt will be regarded as a declaration of war by the English.” I knew this was exaggerating the matter, but counted on her ignorance of the exact difference between the Council Board at Simla and the House of Commons in their views of massacres in remote parts of Asia. “Supposing I accept the offer made by the French company, what then? The company means in the end the French nation,” she added. “They will, without consulting you, establish a sort of Protectorate over the country, and sooner or later will interfere directly with the Burmese Government, with startling results,” I answered. “Ah!” she said, “so that in either case it seems that I—we, I mean—are a mere basket- ball to be:kicked skywards by the foot of which ever Power can find excuse to swoop down upon us. You are either very foolhardy or very ignorant to dare to bring me such insolent messages as this, and whether you are an agent, as I suspect, or only a madman, I will see to it that you, at any rate, do not escape from here with intelligence to sell to either party.” (To be concluded.)

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PSSeqHORTLY after Christmas, 1898, (as Ba Went, the owner of the Bright- eq aital lingsea smack Express—which, with SYA) others, had been engaged in sprat- = fishing in the Thames estuary— received a telegram from the skipper, Abram Norton, informing him that the vessel had been run into by a steamer, and, having sustained con- siderable damage to hull and fishing-gear, was then at Billingsgate awaiting instructions. Next morning THE BROKEN A MARINE DETECTIVE STORY. By A. A. JEFFERIES, LLoyp’s AGENT AT BRIGHTLINGSEA, ESSEX. ARROW. This little story tells of an interesting search among the vast shipping of the Port of London for an offending vessel, and its result: Incidentally it reveals the perils of fishing in the Thames estuary. position and course he concluded that she intended to pass to the north of the smack, but when she was only a short distance away she suddenly put her helm hard a-starboard. Being so near the smack, and the current running swiftly up stream, the manceuvre brought the steamer’s broadside to the tide, and at right angles to the anchored smack, which, of course, could not get out of the way. Directly the watchman on Mr. Went and myself pro- ceeded to Billingsgate by the first train, to examine the vessel and gear. When we came to look at her, the damage was so severe and widespread that we both considered it a miracle that she had not gone down. After inspecting the havoc we next had all hands aft to hear the story of the col- lision, It appeared that the Express was at anchor, with her fishing-gear down (Brightlingsea smacks fish for sprats with their anchors down and all sails stowed) and with her lights in proper position and burning brightly. She was at the time in the Edinburgh Channel; the tide was at flood and getting towards high water. About four o'clock in the morning, the mate—the second hand, who had the watch—saw a large steamer, inward bound, coming up the channel, looming large and ghostly through the gloom. From her MR. A. A. JEFFERIES, INTERESTING MARINE DETECTIVE STORY. From a Photo. by A. W. Wilson. THR NARRA,OR OF THIS the smack saw the steamer starboarding her helm he realized that’ a collision was inevitable, and at once called up all hands and shouted to the steamer. On she came regardless, however, towering over the little fish- ing-boat like the side of a house. With her starboard broadside-on to the smack, the midships of the ship ground over the taut cable- chain, making the Lxfress vibrate in every timber. The big steamer did not slow down in the slightest degree, and as the ground tackle of the smack, which is always of great strength, held on, the smack’s head went down, down, down beneath the surface, carrying away the bowsprit and attached head-gear. The great strain on the forestay bent the smack’s mast like a bow and her stern went up nearly out of the water, with her bows under up to her fo’c’s’le hatch, Still the steamer pressed onwards, like

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THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. HER STERN WENT UP some relentless iron monster, and in another moment the Zxpress must have been dragged bodily under. In the very nick of.time, how- ever, the stout cable broke, releasing the smack, which shot suddenly astern. She thus broke adrift from her gear below and from her anchor, but the danger was over. OUT OF THE WAT The smack had a crew of six men all told, smart yachtsmen who work the fishing vessels when the yachts are laid up during the winter months; and five out of the six had already scrambled into the smack’s boat for their lives, seeing nothing but death before them. The last man out of the cabin, with the big steamer

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THE BROKEN ARROW. : 471 almost on top of him, remained where he was, not knowing what to do, for if he left the cabin hatchway it looked as if the mast and gear might crash down upon him at any moment. He certainly seemed in a nice fix—literally ’twixt the devil and the deep blue sea; but just then MR. WENT, THE OWNEK OF THE’ FISHING-SMACK ‘' EXPRESS. From a Photo. by J. Highy. the cable-chain parted, as already stated, and released the strain, whereupon the L£uxress sprang back upon an even keel. In spite of the men’s continual shouting, no one on board the steamer had taken the slightest notice of them, and now she sped majestically away, never stopping for an instant to see what damage she had done, and paying no attention to the crew she had been within an ace of send- ing to Davy Jones’s locker. Of course, she couldn’t stop, they told themselves bitterly ; she was due at such a place at such a time, and the world would stand still if she wasted her time over half-a-dozen paltry fishermen with wives and families depending upon them. Unfortunately, neither the master nor the crew of the smack could give much information as to the size of the offending steamer, the number of her masts or funnels, or any par- ticulars that might serve to identify her. All they knew was that she was a very large steamer, upward bound ; but that she was painted red below the water-line they were certain, because the end of the cable was red from the composi- tion. This, however, was no clue at all, a great many steamers being painted in this way. At last an old hand suggested that, as the steamer scraped along the smack’s starboard side in clearing her, it was probable that some- thing would become detached from her, and this might afford a means by which to identify the culprit. The crew, being interrogated, did not think there was anything, but they were quite willing to have another good look round amongst the muddle of nets and damaged gear at the fore-end of the smack. After a thorough overhaul one of them picked up a piece of painted metal which looked as .if it had been torn off or out of something. It clearly did not belong to or fit anything on board the smack, and all hands gathered round EXPRESS.” From a Photo. by C. T. Humphrey, AURAM NORTON, THE SKIPPER OF THE to examine it. When straightened out it was found to form the fly portion of a small arrow, painted buff colour, and it had evidently been but recently wrenched off, for the fracture was still bright. Encouraged by this find, a man was sent aloft to examine the outer arm of the smack’s cross-

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472 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. tree on the starboard side, which was known to have rubbed along the steamer’s hull. It was discovered that the extreme end had scraped against something of the same buff colour as the arrow-end. ‘This was the sum-total of our infor- mation—that it was a large steamer with some monster, even though loaded, and we judged that the boat’s bow would be just about on a level with our smack’s cross-tree. We promptly decided that this was the vessel we were in search of, and, leaving the skipper on the spot to see that the boat was not taken away, the From a Photo. by) buff-coloured arrows and paintwork somewhere about her upper works that had done the mischief. The skipper of the Express had already been to the Custom House, and had ascertained that the collision had not been officially reported. There did not seem much evidence to go upon, but we were determined not to be beaten. With the arrow-end carefully tucked away in the pocket of the owner, we set out to ascertain what big steamers had arrived in port the previous day. There were quite a number of them, but we gradually thinned them out till only a few re- mained. We had a good look at each of these, paying special attention totheir starboard quarters. We were inspecting the last when the old skipper suddenly pointed to one‘of the steamer’s boats, up on the quarter davits, which had a piece nicked out of the ornamental shield on her bow. This steamer was a_high-sided w THE FISHING-SMACK ‘EXPRESS. . the arrow perfect ! (C. 7. Humphrey. owner and I went on board the steamer, and, proceeding to the boat, produced the fragment of metal. It just fitted the broken end and made Hunting out the man in charge of the ship, we called his attention to the circumstance, and arranged to meet the com- mander next morning, which we-did. After some conversation with him we went to the office of the company owning the vessel, and here the commander received a severe repri- mand for not stopping the steamer after the collision. A survey of the damage was made, the company made a decent offer to settle the matter, and this was accepted by the owner. And thus ended our marine detective expedi- tion, which looked, to begin with, like seeking a needle ina haystack. In this case, however, we were fortunate enough to find it—all through that broken arrow.

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The Autobiography of a Brigand. WRITTEN BY GIUSEPPE SALOMONE, OF BARRAFRANCA, SICILY, AND TRANSLATED AND EDITED BY Freperic Lees AND LILLy, Scoto. A human document unique in the history of brigandage—-such is the description that can well be applied to the following story, which has been specially translated and edited for ‘* The Wide World Magazine.” Apart from the fact that the distinctly picturesque Salomone found time, amidst the alarms that make up a great part of a brigand’s life, to write an account of the cause of his downfall, his life in prison, his revenge, and his escape into the woods, there is an additional interest in the following pages, owing, firstly, to the novel circumstances under which the MS. of this unique autobiography came into the hands of its editors; and, secondly, because of their description of its author's romantic capture—a sequel which he little thought would so soon have to be added to the story of his adventures. JHE classical type of brigand has practically disappeared; he has been replaced by outlaws who are EMeee) quick to adapt themselves to modern conditions of life. Contrary to the belief that brigands would be swept out of existence as the world rapidly progressed, they have, like other men, evolved, and appear deter- mined to take advantage of all those privileges which we moderns enjoy. Giuseppe Salomone d’Angclo, of Barrafranca, in the province of Caltanis- 18 and then, on reaching the last line, to lose no time in directing his manuscript into the right channel for publication. Signore Lilly Scoto, the Caltanissetta corre- spondent of the Giornale di Sicilia, could not have been more astonished on_ receiving Salomone’s autobiography had it fallen from the clouds. “Whoever can have sent me this?” he said to himself, as the postman, one evening early in March, handed him a heavy registered package, bearing the post- mark of setta, Sicily, is an excellent example of the up-to-date bandit, inasmuch as he has not only, on several occasions, attempted, in the Giornale dr Sicilia, to justify his revolt against society, but has also written the following autobio- graphy, in which, with no small skill, he tells the story of his storry life. He is thus the first literary highwayman that Italy or any other country where brigandage thrives has produced. A fugitive from justice in the wild and mountainous interior of Sicily, in almost daily danger of capture by the bands of carabiniers that were scouring the country, Terranova. Eagerly breaking the seals, he found that the packet con- tained a copy-book of one hun- dred and fifty pages, covered with writing from cover to cover. On the back were the following words :— “Signore Scoto is at perfect liberty to strike out any terms that appear to him to be un- suitable for publication, and to add whatever he thinks necessary for the improve- ment of my phraseology. He will be rewarded. Believe in my sincere devotion.— GIUSEPPE SALOMONE.” This was followed, on the first, second, and third pages the author must have found the composition of so lengthy a document exceed- ingly irksome. But he speaks neither of the difficulties that he encountered nor of the length of time that the task took him. Keeping the subject of his story well in view from the first chapter to the last, he wisely leaves the rest to his readers’ imagination. ‘The essential thing, he sees, is to tell a plain, straight- forward tale, without unnecessary digressions, Vol. xx.—60. CORRESPONDENT OF SIGNORE LILLY SCOTO, THE CALTANISSETTA SICILIA," WHO RECEIVED SALOMONE'S MS. From a Photo. by Nicolo Coglitore. of the manuscript, by a letter and a preface. “Signore Scoto, correspon- dentof the Grornale di Sicilia,” ran the former. “Since you have been so obliging in the case of my previous article, I send you the present manuscript, in the hope that you will deign to correct and publish it in your newspaper, as well as in other journals, so that everybody may know that I am the evildoer Giuseppe Salomone, and may learn how I became maleficent.; I beg you not to THE “GIORNALE DI

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474 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. mislay the’ document before publishing it. Afterwards, it matters little what happens to it. I thank you particularly.—GiusEPPE SALOMONE.” The preface was equally concise. “Those who attempt to criticise me,” wrote the brigand, “pass a criticism on themselves. I am neither a lettered man nora writer. These pages of mine constitute a manifestation of one of the forces of Nature. My readers must not be shocked by the horrors I have to relate, but must try to understand how great is my rage while recording them. They will then, perhaps, pity me. All men, however, cannot think alike. Some will understand the meaning of my story ; others will miss its true sense. The former will commend, the latter condemn.” On reading these lines, Signore Scoto, who is one of the most prudent of journalists, wondered if someone were trying to hoax him. Was Salomone really the author of this strange work? His doubt was but momentary, how- ever, for, on perusing the opening paragraph of the first chapter, and comparing the handwriting with that of the short article to which reference had been made, he saw that no one save the famous brigand of Caltanissetta could possibly have written it. A week later the autobiography was being published at Palermo, and the original manuscript was in the hands of the Paris corre- spondent of THE Wipe WorLD Macazine. I am the malefactor Giuseppe Salomone d’Angelo, of Barrafranca, in the province of Caltanissetta. My present place of residence is unfixed—as you will readily understand when you hear that I am in the Sicilian maguts (woods), and am wanted on a charge of what some men call murder. Let me tell you at the outset, however, that my vengeance, here related, was a just one. Can I, indeed, forget that I once belonged to the honest working-classes, that I had a father and a mother, and that I worked my hardest to lighten their heavy burden? There were eleven of us children, and I was the eldest save one. But I cannot narrate everything; I have neither sufficient time nor sufficient paper to enable me to set down all the sufferings that I have endured at the hands of those who live well. To make my story clear I must take you back to 1892, when I was seventeen years of age. In that year a large number of people in the neigh- bourhood of Barrafranca, Pietraperzia, and other places in the country districts of Sicily, joined the Societa del Fascio (the Sheaf Society), an organization that had been founded by the Socialist deputy Signore -de Felice for the benefit of the working-classes. Inspired by no other object than that of aiding in the ameliora- tion of the lot of my fellow-workers, I imme- diately became a member. The association was no sooner formed, however, than we found that we had reckoned without our host. It greatly displeased the authorities, and especially the Mayor of Barrafranca, Cavaliére Benedetto Giordano, whom I shall henceforth call the “Horseless Knight.” He at once set to work to form a rival organization, the Societa dei Concedati (the Society of the Admitted), and took care never to lose an opportunity of doing us injury. Day and night his Concedati, in collaboration with the carabiniers, spied upon us; day and night he plotted our destruction, and day and night, fearing retaliation, was his house guarded like a barracks. With such tremendous odds against us, the Barrafranca branch of the Societa del Fascio was bound to come to an untimely end. The crash came in 1893. ‘Traitors betrayed us, and our property was confiscated. At the same time, the “Horseless Knight” began to persecute the members, particularly those—including myself —who appeared to be the leaders. Not a moment's peace did he give us. He was con- tinually pointing us out to the carabiniers, who, as often happens in this terrible country, accused us of crimes which they themselves | had committed. The Barrafranca prison was thus never empty. On one occasion, in 1894, it held as many as forty members of the Fascio. The brigadier in charge of the carabiniers was as rabid as a mad dog whenever he came into contact with me. At the time I thought he bore me umbrage because of a certain young lady whose affection—much to his disappoint- ment—I had gained ; but I afterwards learnt that his attitude was almost entirely due to the orders of’ my enemy, the “ Horseless Knight,” who was determined, at any cost, to get me out of the country. On October 3rd, 1394, at a quarter to nine in the morning, two fish dealers, Rosario Cacciatori and Vincenzo Vitali, returning home from Barrafranca, where they had sold their merchan- dise, were stopped by three armed and masked men and robbed, one of twenty, the other of thirty-one lire. The crime was committed in the district of Mazzarino, three miles from my Barrafranca residence. Retracing their steps, the two dealers gave information to the authorities, who at once concluded that my brother and I must have had something to do with the affair. Now, I must here explain to you that on August 6th of this same year, while working on Prince Lanza di Palermo Scalea’s property at Galati, I had so severe an attack of fever that I was reduced to the; condition

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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BRIGAND. 475 “THEY WERE STOPPED BY THREE ARMED AND MASKED MEN.’ of a perfect wreck. My two doctors, Signore Giammusso and Signore Mattina, declared that I should not be strong enough to work again for many months to come. On October 3rd, indeed, I was still very ill, and physically incapable of taking part in a highway robbery. Yet the police were put on my track. One officer was sent to Berciafara, where I owned a house and a piece of land, two miles from the scene of the robbery. “ Buon giorno, compagno!” he said to the caretaker. ‘“ What has Giuseppe Salomone been doing here this morning ?” “Signore Giuseppe has not been here to-day,” replied the man. “ He is ill, so it was his brother Baldassare who came, and then left, after gather- ing some figs. I swear on my conscience that Salomone is sick and has not been here.” Not satisfied with this, the officer made further inquiries from the occupants of neighbouring houses, including a lady whose garden adjoined mine, but he always received a negative answer, and thus had to return to Barrafranca without having learnt a single thing against me. Meanwhile, other policemen were looking for me. ‘Two of them arrived at my house at half- past four in the afternoon, at which hour my fever, as usual, began to decline. They met me as I was feebly crawling outside, and, after putting a number of questions to me, told me that the brigadier wished to see me at the barracks. Arriving there at half-past five, the brigadier questioned me still further on the subject of the disposal of my time during the day. He then confronted me with two strangers, asking them

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476 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Y ey . paras) "| was too astounded at this fap: a ng ree gs i ae | change of attitude to pro- f a HE bee ca B's test, which, moreover, I Sf <\ sss So Noe was forbidden by the regu- Vid i 2 ANP) § Ai | lations to do. But I ACCAMAVOATO ‘i 3 1S oe thought all the more, and + on being taken back to my cell I could not help mur- muring to myself, “ Poor humanity! Poor society ! Poor Italian Government ! Poor laws!” Yes, oh! malefactor Giuseppe Salo- mone, you may well say “ Poor laws!” for you have not merely one but a thou- sand reasons for cursing the justice of your country. Little did I know what the brigadier had written |. in his report! Little did a’ §| I suspect, when in my FACSIMILE OF THE COVER OF THE REGISTERED PACKAGE CONTAINING SALOMONE S MS. WHICH pnson: cell, that he had HE SENT FKOM TERKANOVA TO SIGNORE SCOTO. said I was wearing that half of a handkerchief over if they recognised me. They replied “No,” and, my face, and that, when I seized the bridle when almost invited to change their opinion, — of Vitali’s horse, he had struck me over the added: “It is easy to see that this man is ill, head, causing the handkerchief to fall and thus and consequently cannot have robbed us.” unmask me ! You would imagine, after this conclusive My brother, fortunately, escaped the trap evidence, that I should have immedi- r iz 2 1 Ser ately been set at seas P Be liberty. Not a bit of it! Justice in Sicily is not as it is in other countries. I was led away to the cells, with irons biting into my wrists and ankles. Whilst I was in prison the brigadier and his men made a domiciliary visit to my house and seized half a spotted handker- chief, which they found under a pillow in my aunt’s room. This, they contended, had been used by me as a mask; so, in my presence, it was shown to the two fish-dealers, whom the brigadier again asked if they recognised me. One made no reply, the EOK hae? ROL . . “wy, ” FACSIMILE OF THE COVER OF THE PACKAGE, ENCLOSING THE RRIGAND'S STORY, SENT BY SIGNORE other said “Yes.” I SCOTO TO OUR PARIS CORRESPONDENT. Digitized by GOOle

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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BRIGAND. 477 that had been laid for us by the “ Horseless Knight.” For some reason or other he had gone into the country, and did not return for two days. An order from the brigadier brought him also to the barracks, but it was then too late to charge him with being my accomplice, since the raforto was already in the hands of © the examining magistrate. Nevertheless, he was kept in custody for fifty days, in company with a certain Giovanni Avola, who, though Cacciatori and Vitali declared they could not recognise him, made a sort of half confession of his guilt ! Week after week did I languish in the prison of Barrafranca. At last, on January 2oth, 1895, I was informed that I was to be transferred to Caltanissetta, to be tried by the Assize Court there on March sth. How I welcomed the approach of that day! Both my family and I, knowing that I was innocent, had confidence in the result of the trial. On the morning of the trial, whilst I was being conducted from my cell to the ground- floor, where the court-room is situated, I said to myself: “ What is the cause of this exhibition ? Why have I been imprisoned ?” A voice within me replied: “The Horseless Knight.” “ Who has done all this evil to my life and household ?” I asked again. And still the answer came: “The Horseless Knight.” ‘“ Why,” I once more inquired—“why have I been treated thus?” But this time the voice said, “ Patience.” As soon as the sitting opened I begged to be allowed to address the Court, and this is what I said : “Gentlemen of the jury, since I have pleaded ‘Not Guilty,’ I claim the right granted me by the Code of calling the two plaintiffs.” When they had appeared I turned towards them and said :— “Place your hands on your hearts and think what it must be for an innocent man to be in prison. Turn towards the Court and towards the jury and say if Iam the man who robbed you.” One of them did not reply, but the other said :— “I swear before God and the whole Court that it was indeed you who robbed me.” I was speechless with rage. Why did not the earth open and swallow them up, I thought, and me also, if I were guilty? Then I remem- bered that there was a just God over all, and with the thought that there was still hope courage returned. But it was evident that the brigadier had advised the plaintiffs to swear against me, otherwise I should get off and they themselves would be imprisoned. Had not my mother threatened to bring an action against them as soon as I was free? The witnesses for the prosecution were the brigadier, the officer who had been sent to Berciafara, the plaintiffs, another fish-dealer— “who said nothing either for or against me—and two Neapolitan mercenaries, whose evidence did not amount to a row of straws. It would be useless to name all the witnesses that could have been called for the defence, seeing that the entire district was ready to come. And I need mention only the most important of those who actually gave evidence: Alta Caputo, Mariano Caputo and his wife, Giuseppe Bonaf- fini, Antonina Piazza, Egidio d’Angiolo and his mother, Gentile Santo, Gagliolo Costantino, and two others whose names have escaped my memory. All these honest folk swore that at a quarter to nine on the morning of the crime I was at home and too ill to leave the house. Whilst they were giving their evidence the noble and most honest scarfpara—that is, the members of the jury—were asleep! Yes, you have read aright; they were, indeed, deep in slumber! My advocate, a Caltanissetta lawyer, was without experience, and frequently made the grave mistake of attacking the President, instead of attempting to get the case either postponed to another sitting or sent to another court. But, since we are all brothers, what do the misfortunes of others matter to us, provided that we receive our fees ? I do not know whether you have ever seen jurymen sleeping in an assize court; but I dare say you have heard of a certain class of lawyers who study the cases entrusted to them only a few hours before their fees are due. ‘The latter, in my opinion, are a thousand times more guilty than somnolent members of a jury, who have no great pecuniary reward to look forward to, and who often serve against their will. Should you fall into the hands of such barristers —and I profoundly trust that may never happen to you —recollect Salomone’s philosophical motto: “Provided they get their fees, what do the misfortunes of others matter to them ?” ‘The Public Prosecutor, in opening his case, spoke in the following manner :— “Citizen members of the jury, hear what the Mayor of Barrafranca says about the prisoner’s morality. The honourable mayor certifies that Giuseppe Salomone d’Angelo is a young man of abominable conduct, capable of committing any crime,” etc., etc. My cup of misery was full! ; Not content with giving me this bad character, the “Horseless Knight” even telegraphed to the President. The despatch arrived when the Public Prosecutor had finished speaking, and on the crier announcing it the President suspended the sitting for five minutes, in order to retire,

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478 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. with the judges, to his room. On returning he delivered a speech of an hour’s duration—a speech describing me as a most dangerous criminal, and couched in such bitter terms that it was easy to see from whom he had taken his inspiration. The jurymen, who by that time had awakened, then withdrew. After a few minutes’ absence they returned with a verdict of “Guilty.” Once more the President and the judges retired, and once more, while I was addressing encouraging words to my distressed mother from the cage* in which I was standing, they filed into court. The sentence passed on me was ten years and five months’ imprisonment and three years’ special surveillance. You may imagine, reader, with what joy the announcement of this lenient sentence was received by me and my family. You may imagine with what pleasure I parted from my father aid mother, especially from the latter, who, on that 5th of March, 1895, received a shock that was to carry her to her grave. Having been regarded as a second father in our household, in which there were seven boys younger than myself and a widowed aunt, you may imagine how many tears were shed, and how great was the indignation of three-quarters of the population of my native place. All the misfortunes that my family has borne, reducing us to poverty, sprang from that sentence. Attempts were made to get it quashed, but my parents’ repeated applications for a revision of the trial could be got no farther than Caltanissetta and Barrafranca. So, on March 13th, I was drafted to Palermo; and on October 28th, aboard a State transport, I found myself gazing, as I thought for the last time, on the beloved land of my birth. ‘Ten years and five months seemed such an eternity that I did not dare to hope to see dear Sicily once more. Yet I was indeed to return—to contribute to the criminality of Italy by executing a just vengeance, and to add one more to the number of her brigands. As the steamer left the harbour I heaved a deep sigh, and my eyes welled with tears. “What have I done,” said I to myself, “to merit banishment? From whom have I stolen even the smallest thing? Why has the ‘“Horseless Knight’ deprived me of my precious liberty ?” The sudden recollection of my mother’s sad face made the hot tears flow still faster, and prompted a wild idea of attempting to escape. “Suppose,” thought I, “I ask the warder, on some simple and reasonable plea, to free me for * In Italy prisoners are tried in a sort of cage.-F. L. and L. S._ a moment from my chains? I could then throw myself into the sea.” I was ruminating on this plan when, a few moments later, a sound of sobbing among my fellow-prisoners made me turn my head. It was a wretched man from Partinico; and as he wept like a child he cried :— “Thirty years! Thirty years! And I an innocent man! How can I stand thirty years?” The sight of a fellow-being who had greater cause than I to complain made me reflect, and to a certain extent gave me courage. But, oh, the sadness of that voyage! Though one may have little consideration for condemned men as a whole, one must not think that they are all reprehensible. Infinitely more blamable are the free men who ill-treat and rob them. On the journey from Palermo to Naples, and thence to Rome, we were treated like dogs. The filth in the midst of which we were forced to live was enough to breed an epidemic, and the expedients to which our warders had recourse in extracting the few pence that one or the other of us possessed were so revoltingly mean that I began to see who were the true criminals on board that convict ship. On the evening of November toth, 1895, in bitterly cold weather, we reached our destination, the excessively severe prison of Fossombrone. There were seven of us—six from the province of Girgenti and one, myself, from Caltanissetta. Our inland journey, though not so eventful as I should have expected, was nevertheless marked by one or two little incidents that are worth mentioning. We travelled by train from Ancona to Fano, on the Adriatic, but thence, under the charge of a, sergeant, in three mule carts. I remember that it was on a Sunday when we left the carabiniers’ barracks at Fano, and that just before we set off the sergeant, who struck me as being a very good and honest fellow, allowed us to warm ourselves before a large fire and exchange a few words with some ladies who had come to give us encouragement. “And you, so young!—even you are in prison ?” said one of them to me, with astonish- ment. “ How long have you to serve?” “A little more than nine years,” I answered. “Poor young man! And why?” “Through the enmity of a Knight.” “Have courage and grieve not,” she said. comfortingly. “It was wrong of me to reopen the wound.” “No, no, dvava signora,” 1 replied. “When an innocent man is condemned to ten years’ imprisonment the wound never heals.” With these words I stepped-into my cart and, ‘ Horseless

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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BRIGAND. 479 the other prisoners having done likewise, we jogged on through the stony streets of Fano. Half-way to Fossombrone we came across many little houses where all sorts of things could be bought while the mules were having a feed. Stopping at one of them, the sergeant gave permission for half a litre of wine to be purchased for each group of prisoners. Two of my comrades, however, were without money, so I offered to pay for an entire litre. The stout peasant woman who brought the wine stopped to talk with the sergeant, after receiving payment from him, and when he had got down from his horse, in order to go and buy some cigars, she continued the conversation with us. I took the opportunity of compli- menting her on the good quality of her wine and of asking its price. She told me it was forty centesimi (fourpence), but she had an inferior sort at thirty. This information, as you will soon see, was to prove useful. On first entering the peni- tentiary, and on seeing what a mournful, solitary place it soon realized that I was indeed to pass the remainder of my sentence seated on that miniature bench chained to the damp wall, or lying on that narrow folding-bed, on which I spent many sleepless nights. During the first week or so I was much troubled with palpita- tion of the heart, and the wonder is that I did not die of grief. During the sixteen months that I existed in that horribly confined space I could never obtain the rations list, a copy of which ought to have been posted up in every cell and in every workshop. The warder in charge of the food and clothing departments, a man named Sivera, was a very cunning fellow, and always put me off with some excuse. On the first of every month I used to say to him :—- “Let me see the rations list, so that I can choose what I will have.” “What do you want to tread it for?” he would answer. ‘Don’t I tell you that soup is twenty centesimi the ration; bread, twenty centesimi ; boar’s head, ten centesimi ; boiled bacon, ten was, my heart sank within me; I was convinced at the time that I should never come out of it alive. My fellow-prisoners, judging by the melancholy expression on their faces, were evidently tortured by similar thoughts. Handing us over to the chief jailer, the sergeant presented him with a memorandum of the sums disbursed on our behalf (and which were later to be deducted from our savings, or earnings), and, on being paid, went his way. It was then that I dis-. covered he had charged the wine at the rate of sixty centesimi, thus robbing us of twenty centesimi a litre ! When thinking about this in the solitude of my cell I marvelled that a sergeant who seemed so kind-hearted should have been so cruel as to rob us wretched men. If one so sympathetic will treat us thus, thought I, what are we to expect from the mad wolves into whose hands we have fallen? Time was to show. They dressed us in prison garb, in such sort that we appeared to be disguised; they gave each of us a number; and they put us into separate cells. 1 was no longer Giuseppe Salomone, but No. II-37; and my cell was so small that at first I imagined they must surely be playing a practical joke upon me. But I GIUSEPPE SALOMONE D'ANGELO, OF FRANCA, THE NOTORIOUS SICILIAN BKIGAND WHOSE AUTOBIOGRAPHY 1S HERE PUBLISHED. centesimi ; cheese, five cen- tesimi; salads, five centesimi; and wine, ten centesimi the fifth of a litre?” “But has there been no change,” I used to ask, “either in the: choice of food or in its price?” “None whatever.” One day I asked him what the weight of a herring ought to be. “One hundred grammes,” he replied. “Then,” said I, “I contend that this herring does not weigh anything like that.” “Very well! Make a complaint, and you'll jolly soon find yourself in the dark cell.” But he would not take me down to the office of his chief, who was as great a thief as he. Whilst I was discussing the matter with him another warder, who was on his way to the infirmary, heard us and came to see what the row was about. I told him, whereupon he at once opened the door and accompanied me to the chief's office. On the way there he told me that I had done quite right, because Sivera was undoubtedly a scoundrel. He said other things, too, to his discredit, but 1 perceived that there had been a disagreement between them. So vile are these jailers that they spy on each other on every possible occasion. BARRA,

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480 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. The warder, on our reaching a room furnished with columns, left me in charge of a guardian whilst he went to inform the chief jailer of my wish for an interview. Noticing that a rations list was affixed to one of the columns, I approached, in spite of my keeper’s sharp order to stop where I was, and read the weights and prices. One glance was enough to confirm my suspicions. Called into the office, the chief said to me:— “ Have you a complaint to make?” “Ves,” I answered. “I claim that this herring is not of the regulation weight.” A pair of scales were brought, and I myself— for I would not let the fish go out of my hands, knowing that those warders were capable of anything — weighed it. It was twenty-five grammes short. “This is a pretty state of affairs !” exclaimed I, “Each ration is a quarter short weight. A pretty state of affairs, indeed !” “Good! You can go now,” was the only comment. But I would not move until I had asked to see the director of the prison, and received a promise that this time (unlike a previous occa- sion) I should be allowed to lay the matter before him. Several days passed, and yet I did not receive the expected summons. To think, mused I in my cell, that that rascally warder has been charging me twenty centesimi for bread, whereas the price should have been only fifteen! At last, however, on the tenth day after the herring incident, I was called before the director, to whom I gave a detailed account of how I had been robbed during the last sixteen months. He sent for the registers and the rations lists, com- pared the various prices, and found that I was indeed speaking the truth. But what satisfaction did I get out of this disclosure of the disgraceful way in which Italian prisoners are exploited by their warders? None whatever! Whether the jailer who had robbed me was punished or not I cannot say. Certainly he was not dismissed and prosecuted, as he ought to have been, since he continued to bring me my food during the whole of the time that I remained at Fossombrone. I therefore naturally concluded that all the officials were in league with each other. Never a day went by without something tragic or unusual happening in that loathsome peniten. tiary. Some died through lack of proper food and medical attendance ; others went mad ; and others, again, escaped from their daily tortures by committing suicide. On September 8th, 1896—I shall never forget that date—a certain Gaetano Boschiglio, of Girgenti, who, though innocent, had been condemned to fifteen years’ penal servitude, hanged himself. He was ever crying out :— “Oh, my four poor sons! Oh, my poor wife ! And I am innocent!” A Sardinian, whose voice still rings in my ears, was continually shrieking :— “Help! Help! They are killing me!” One day, however, they put him in irons, and we heard him no more. . I, also, had a taste of the dread subterranean cells of the prison of Fossombrone. Descending to them was like going down the sulphur mines of Caltanissetta, and the pitch darkness in which we were forced to live was the same. Only by great courage did I ‘succeed in escaping from them alive. On June 24th, 1897, two other prisoners and I were informed that we were to be transferred to Ancona. We left immediately for our new residence, and whilst passing through Fano renewed acquaintance with the sergeant who had drunk at our expense. At Ancona I found that the director of the prison was Cavaliére Ernesto Bova; J call him Boja (executioner), since that is indeed what he was. Before setting me to work he confined me to my cell for forty days, and, though he knew that I was a shoemaker by trade, he drafted me to the tenth section, where I had to undergo four months’ apprenticeship, unpaid, and for his benefit ! We made shoes for the marine infantry, the prisoners, and the occupants of certain other State administrations. One day, just before the Easter fé/es, our maestro, Giovanni di Maria, of Reggio, in Calabria, came as usual to collect the work which he had distributed among us. After he had received from one five pairs, from another seven pairs, from a third two pairs, and from myself four pairs of boots, and pronounced them to be made in accordance with the regula- tions, he said :— “The director orders that no one is to be paid to-day.” “What!” I exclaimed, indignantly. one is to be paid? And why?” The other prisoners echoed my protest, and with one voice we demanded to see Cavaliére Bova. He came. “Who is it who wants paying for his shoes?” he asked, angrily, turning first of all to me. “ And what does he want in payment?” I boldly told him that it was I who had protested. “Oh! so it’s you, is it?” he said. well, I'll settle this with you.” Passing from bench to bench, he. asked the “No “ Very

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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BRIGAND. others if they also demanded payment, but they were all too frightened to reply. Being perfectly within my right, our é/a could not, of course, punish me; but he kept his word about not paying us, and henceforth bore me a grudge. A few days later he found an excuse for punishing me with ten days’ confinement in my cell, with nothing to eat save dry bread. It was the day before Easter in the year 1898 when I once more came out into the light of day, and never am I likely to forget the occasion, for I looked more like a skeleton than a living man. 481 crowded, and to the usual tortures of prison life was added shocking ill-treatment, some of the prisoners being beaten even at night. Deaths occurred almost every day, either through acts of brutality or want of proper food and medicine. The doctor drew up prescrip- tions, but the director annulled them. The chief nurse in the infirmary was a Calabrian prisoner, who, it was said, acted, when he was at liberty, as a spy for the Detective Department. The man was a veritable plague. He had everything at his disposal ; he gave and Sug? gud vas a fe: er ah Ur ie a Binnl® dilian t cathe Pauaks w stile t03 Ne Naserdede: ot wh wna ericecte hi ppd mane ul fe udhe- Sot tu fe ej Lillbcar 40 4, the au athe. A Pir ww endl enderr- hla Aorw i= spredicce | wie FACSIMILE OF A PAGE OF SALOMONE'S ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT. . An unhealthier prison than that of Ancona you could not, I think, find anywhere. Debili- tated by hard labour, my system naturally succumbed to sickness, and in May, 1899, I was seized with so severe an intestinal malady that the doctors ordered my removal, with other invalids, to the penitentiary of Senigaglia, an ancient castle formerly occupied by Lucrezia Borgia. There were one hundred of us at Senigaglia, all ill, and some with three or four wounds that they would carry to their graves. Yet the severity shown us was extreme. Some of us were so weak that we could hardly walk. Every time that we took the air for half an hour we were rigorously searched, both on going out and on coming in. The cells were always over- Vol. xx.—61. withdrew both medicine and’ food just as he pleased ; and I am convinced that in the course of his career he must have killed hundreds of men. Possibly I, too, should have been one of his victims had I not been sent from Senigaglia to the sanatorium of Finalmarina. At Finalmarina I made the acquaintance of another type of director—the heartless type. Not that he punished us as the éoja did; he was heartless in another way, and on the plea of economy. ‘“ Risparmi! risparmi!” (“Economize! economize!”) his loud voice was continually crying. And he thus deprived the sick of so many things that they died by dozens. The doctor's visits took place on a staircase in one of the corridors, and the only medicine

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482 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. that he ever ordered was carbonate of soda! I came so near death at his hands that nearly all interest in life was gone. I had not been there long before I discovered that four of us were from Barrafranca: Giuseppe himself in bed, and, after kissing each of us, said, in a weak voice :— ° “Had my family been here they could not have done more for me than you have done. Therefore, if, on the one hand, I die under such “JOsT BEFORE Mis DKATH HE KAISED HIMSELF IN BED. Cucchiera, condemned to death at the age of nineteen, but allowed to live; Salvatore Can- nioto, sentenced to sixteen years and eight months ; Gaetano Amorose, sentenced to four- teen years; and myself. Now, between December 25th, 1899, and February 26th, 1900, Gaetano Amorose fell ill, “and on being removed to the infirmary we—his three compatriots—were permitted to watch by his bedside. Just before his death he raised sad conditions, I can, on the other hand, con- sider myself fortunate in having had every possible care. A thousand thanks, my friends. But there are still two incurable sorrows in my heart,” he continued, after a pause. “ The first is caused by the thought that that wretch Giuseppe B——, who is the cause of my being in prison, since the fault was his, is now amusing himself ; the second is caused by the regret that I have not been able to repay the ‘Horseless

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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BRIGAND. 483 Knight’ for the false information which he gave about my character.” I promised him that, whilst paying my own debts to the “ Horseless Knight,” I would not forget his. A faint smile came to his lips, and in attempting to kiss us once more he died in our arms. There was one custom in particular at Finalmarina that was specially reprehensible. Prisoners with all sorts of maladies were put together, with the result that those who had only slight ailments caught various infectious diseases. Many died from this cause alone. I protested against this, and in consequence I and four others were given a cell to ourselves. The food was not too bad, but all sorts of low tricks, as everyone knew, went on in the kitchens. The cooks were condemned men, and, in order to curry favour with the warders, they gave them the best of everything, at the expense of their sick comrades. But how could we prove it? We were the lambs and they were the wolves. It is useless, however, to go into all the details of my prison life. As I have already s4id, I have neither sufficient paper nor suffi- cient time to record everything. Whilst writing Iam obliged to keep a sharp eye on all sides, for flying columns of disguised carabiniers are after me in all directions. Fortunately, I always see them in time and retire to a place of safety. I should be sorry to have to put a bullet through them, seeing that they are only the instruments of the guilty officials who employ them. More- over, do not the facts which I have given show the sort of men into whose hands poor Italian prisoners are delivered? And yet people say to them: “Be good, laborious, and honest. Neither steal nor kill. Love your neighbour as you do yourself. ‘Thieves and murderers, behold . the cells that are to repress your brigandage ! Behold the irons, the strait - waistcoats, and the little tables at which you will regale your- selves on dry bread and water! We cannot make you into perfect men ; but, since you are wolves, we will turn you into lambs.” If there is, on the face of the globe, a dis- honoured administration, it is that known as the Amministrazione Carceraria Italiana. Italy has fallen into a state of very reprehensible sloth, and it is by thousands that each province should produce such men as Musolino.* The severity with which I was treated whilst serving my term of imprisonment did not make me forget, as you may well imagine, that I was an innocent man, and that it was my duty to * A celebrated brigand, now in prison at Portolongone, whose adventures have been dealt with on several occasions in Tuk WibE Wort. make every effort to get my case revised. I, therefore, wrote frequently both to my mother and to the judicial authorities. “It is not the King’s pardon that I want,” I wrote to the former, “ but a disclosure of the truth.” And I would then ask for news of the man who had caused my downfall. My poor mother, con- fined to her bed, used to reply: “ The knight still holds the same post. What can I do if he will persist in writing against you?” Ah! how great was my hatred on reading those words ! I recollect that I could give myself no greater satisfaction at the time than that of sitting down’ in my cell and transmitting to paper a poem in which I recorded my sufferings. At last, however, came liberation, but not the day of perfect liberty, since for three years longer, though innocent, I was to be under the surveillance of the police. I was liberated on the evening of September 2tst, 1904. A detective conducted me to the Prefecture, and I slept that night at the Pistolesi e Borbia Inn, kept by one Fortunato Ciccarelli, at No. 2, Via Creca, in the port of Leghorn. I was féted by my friends of the Socialist club. At five o’clock in the morning I left for Rome, where I stopped for only an hour or so before proceeding to Naples. There I regaled myself on Neapolitan macaroni, received a hearty welcome from the family of one of my friends, wrote a number of letters, including some to my comrades in Leghorn, and, in the evening, stepped on board the steamship Colombo, which was to take me to Palermo. On arriving I had once more to report my- self at the Prefecture, but was able to get away by 3.53 in the afternoon. ‘However, with all these delays, it was not until eleven o’clock that I reached Caltanissetta. Two of my brothers were waiting for.the train, but we did not recognise each other. So I loitered about for a time on the station platform, wondering what it could all mean. I could not believe that nobody had come to meet me. . “What is happening at home?” I said to myself. “How is it that my mother is not here?” At an inn near the station they asked me two lire for a bed. But who, at such a time, could think of sleeping? I pushed on towards an albergo which was kept by one of my com- patriots, and where I knew that I should be able to obtain news of my family. On arriving T found it closed for the night, but on knocking the door was opened, and I entered. “Can you let me have a bed?” I asked the landlord ; and as I spoke I recognised by the light from a candle standing on a table near at

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484 THE hand that he was not the compatriot I had expected to see, but another. “Yes, signore. Will you allow me to show you the room?” “T should like, first of all, to leave my bag with you, and then go to have something to eat,” I answered. “lake me to some place where we can get food.” When we had got outside, I said to him :— “Am I mistaken in thinking that you are from Barrafranca ?” The words had hardly left my lips when he recognised me, and, throwing himself on my neck, cried between the sobs :— “Itis Peppe! It is my Peppuzzo! Oh, my comrade, how have you been able to support so long a term —you, an innocent man? It is as though I had lost you and found you again!” I calmed him, and asked if there was anyone in Caltanissetta belonging to me. “Why, certainly,” he replied. “ Your two brothers, Sebastiano and Baldassare, went to meet you an hour ago.” You can imagine our meeting! One of them I had left quite young, and I returned to find him already a father, We shed torrents of tears, and all the time I was thinking of my mother. I asked how she was. “Quite well,” was the reply. How was it, then, that she was not there? “Oh, that’s all right,” they said. But I could see that some bad news or other was being kept from me, so, with a heavy heart, I said: “Tell me what has happened !” “Nothing, nothing,” answered Baldassare. “We are all alive, with the exception of our little brother Luigi, who died two years ago” _ Oh, what an unhappy lot was mine! To find that the little brother who was the pet of all was no longer there! Little sleep or food was there for me that night. On the following morning, before setting out for Barrafranca, I had to go to the Prefecture. Consequently, it was late when we left Caltanis- setta. Being the bearer of news to the families of some of my prison comrades, I decided to return home by way of Pietraperzia. Whilst we were there, waiting in the house of one Filippo Modonia for a letter which his wife was writing, he being then in prison, two people came in and whispered something to my brother Baldassare. Immediately he announced his intention of going, but the Modonias tried to keep him, WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. and I, too, remonstrated with him. not a word, he insisted, and left me. My brother was right. ‘The two men who had come into the house had asked him if I were the young man who had just left prison. They were answered in the affirmative, where- upon one of them had said: “ Poor young fellow —he has come too late. His mother died yesterday !” This was on September 25th, on the occasion of the great fé¢e in honour of the Madonna del Sacro Cuore di Gest, a /’fe much celebrated by the working-classes. A band was playing in the park at Barrafranca, and the entire place was illuminated. I decided, therefore, that I would return home through the least-frequented streets. It was not until two o’clock in the morning that I reached my destination. Seeing no sign of alight, but finding the door of the house open, I rushed in, and beheld a scene that will ever be graven on my memory. My mother’s room was full of people, all mourning. My brothers and sisters were there, grouped around her bed. “And as they em- braced me they told me the news—that she had died but the day before, with my name updn her lips! My senses almost left me. late! After ten years’ suffering I had hoped to embrace, at least once more, the mother who, during all that time, had been my one con- solation. Ah, what beautiful encouraging letters she used to write to me! What help she used to send me! Ah, yes, there was no doubt that but for her I should never have had the strength to serve my term of imprisonment. Who knows in what prison I should have left my bones, like so many others whom I have seen die for the want of a glass of water? A day too late! Oh, if they had only let me out two days sooner ! Perhaps my mother, seeing me, would then have recovered. Such were some of the thoughts that tortured me on that first night in the old home. Bitter, bitter tears did I shed on that long, long night. The first paroxysm of grief being over I suddenly began to think of the man who had been the cause of all my family’s misfortunes, and I said to myself, “ Had I known that I should not find my mother alive I should not have directed my steps homewards, but should have gone straight to the house of the ‘Horseless Knight.’” He had now, by the way, been given the title of commander. I then fell into a restless sleep, thinking of the revenge that should surely be mine. Replying I was a day too (To be concluded.)

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In the Land of Perfume. By Ernest Dixon. A captivating article concerning a wonderful region where the people literally live by the calendar of flowers, plucking beautiful blooms all the time. The flowers are weighed like so much coal— millions of pounds of orange blossom, tons of roses, and so on—and all are destined to have their . fragrance crushed out of them to make perfumes for the delectation of the world's womenkind. Mg WAS strolling down Bond Street one day with a friend when a smartly-dressed lady passed by. I gave her a fleeting glance. My friend took a longer one and sniffed. “That’s the real thing,” he said, almost under his breath. Then, after a moment’s thought, he repeated, “ Yes, the real thing.” * It seemed as if he were drawing a sotto voce line between the good and bad in fashion, separating from other fine birds in fine. feathers the dainty creature who had just passed. But I had misjudged the situation. My friend was a maker of perfumes—he supplies, I believe, some costly scents to the members of the Royal Family—and I had forgotten for the moment the expert in the remark. “There’s a woman,” he continued, “who knows good perfume, and how to use it. That delicate odour which she gave forth—a clumsy fellow like you wouldn’t notice it—was jasmine. It costs a small fortune per fluid ounce ; in fact, we can’t get enough of it. ‘That little whiff meant baskets and baskets of flowers. Once you have smelt the real thing you can never forget it. No one has ever been able to imitate it.” Here was something novel to the jaded writer's mind. My friend was clearly en ¢rarn for some interesting disclosures. He talked jasmine for fifteen minutes. He held me in front of a hairdresser’s window for five and discoursed upon pomades. ‘Then he broke off suddenly. “ By the way,” he said, “have you ever been to Grasse, near Nice ?” “Grasse? No!” I replied. THE ANCIENT TOWN OF GRASSK, (Photograph.

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486 , THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “Well, you ought to go. Next time you're taking the sun-cure on the azure coast, or ex- ploiting a ‘system’ at Monte Carlo, save one of your louis and spend it on a day in Grasse. You can get from Nice to Cannes and from there to Grasse in half a day. Go out into the fields and watch them pick the blossoms, visit the factories where the blooms are crushed, and, perhaps, by the time you have seen the enfleurage of the jasmine—if you happen to be there in the jasmine month—you will know why the precious scents ave precious. And, if you're interested enough in the subject to spend some time studying how the manufacturer gets his raw material for the London and Paris markets, and seeing hundreds of people labouring for from the castled Rhine. The perfume manu- factories of which this busy town is composed look down, year in and year out, upon a bonneted army of workers stooping in a magnificent expanse of bloom. It is an expanse of ever-changing colour. This month it will be red, next month, perhaps, a yorgeous yellow, and in still another month it will be blue, or some other colour of the rainbow. Only those who have been fortunate enough to see the wonderful carpet of flowers with which this sun- kissed valley of the Alpes-Maritimes is covered, or who have seen that other floral wonder which makes the dunes of Holland a paradise in May, can have a real idea of what Grasse is like. Grasse is one of the few places which supply From a Photograph. hours to get a gill of liquid from hundreds of pounds of flowers, I may be able to go with you.” That’s how I found myself in Grasse. My visit dates from the moment when that un- known lady passed in Bond Street, and in my memory I shall always associate her dainty figure with one of the pleasantest weeks of my existence. Grasse is a paradise of flowers. The town itself, descended from very ancient times, is situated on the side of a hill, appearing at a distance for all the world like a piece cut boldly the raw material for the world’s perfume. The bottled scents which we find in the shop of fashion are the preparations of scent-makers in the cities. They are mixtures, sometimes of many primary scents, which have been obtained direct from the manufacturers, who, in their turn, obtain from peasants or other small growers the flowers which they distil or press. “T am going to take you first,” said_my friend, when we were on our journey southward, “to the factory of Bruno Court, who is one of the great manufacturers of the region. You can

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IN THE LAND Of PERFUME. 437 see his ustne from any part of the valley, and you will not be the first gentleman of import- ance who has visited him. He has given wel- come to everyone, from princes to paupers, and he is never tired of showing visitors his works. And let me tell you another thing. If, when you are coming away, a little bottle of perfume should be handed you, don’t forget to take it. 29. ) 70) From a) You will hold in your hand a product of real purity, which you could not buy in town if you wanted it, for Bruno Court supplies the raw materials only to the trade, and what he gives to you or some mighty prince in that small bottle should make your wife happy for months.” Of course, I looked forward to that bottle, wondering all the time how many presents of the kind the generous manufacturer gives to visitors in the course of a year. I may as well add here that I got the bottle ; for, when I was leaving Grasse, M. Court stopped at the door of the ustne to bid me a pleasant good-bye, and when he shook my hand pressed into it his dainty present. “Give this to madame,” he said, “with the compliments of Bruno Court.” Which I did. A trusty servant of this great manufacturer became our cicerone during the time we spent in Grasse. First he took us to the great fields of Grasse, leading us among the workers, pausing RE IRIAN ANTE A eg DISTILLING LAVENDER ON THE HILLSIDE, here and there to touch a brilliant blossom and, in his mind’s eye, to reckon at each step the prospects of the glorious crops. It was at the end of May, the month of roses and orange flower, and the air was so thick with perfume that for a moment I had a sickening feeling, and could well believe the oft-told story that in June, when the orange flower is in full blossom, the SM scion { Photograph. pickers sometimes fall from their ladders in a faint. “In the land of perfume,” said our nite quoting, I believe, a poet of the region—“ we live by the ‘calendar of flowers.’ This, as you see, is the month of roses. In March and April we pick the violet and jonquil ; in May and June we gather the roses and the orange flower, from which comes the essence of neroli. In June also we turn the leaves of the orange into essence of petit grain, and the verbena into a scent for common soap. June and July are the months for red thyme and rosemary.. Thyme is used in sachet powders. If you come here in August and September you find us busy with jasmine, tuberose, peppermint, aspic, sweet basil, mignonette, and lavender—the latter, for sake of convenience, being distilled on the neighbouring hillsides, right where it grows. In September and October we get the red geranium, and in October and-November the cassia, which

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488 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. you will find in the best bouquets for the handkerchief. Thus, you see, we are at work from early March till December picking the flowers and preparing them immediately for market. The rest of the time we spend on the exotic essences, such as patchouli, santal—or, as you often call it, sandal—and rose-wood, which the perfumer calls to his aid in preparing the numerous scents which fill the shops.” “Then the flowers which you have just named in your calendar are primary flowers?” I asked. “Yes,” replied the guide; “there are eight essential flowers. These are the orange flower, the rose, jasmine, tuberose, cassia, mignonette, jonquil, and violet. It is the same in music and painting, in both of which you have certain primary sounds and colours, from which the skilful composer or painter can create the most beautiful harmonies. And that reminds me to tell you, when we have our déyeuner, how, from this simple fact, aided by an expert sense of smell, a great London perfumer evolved his musical scale of perfume.” We passed along the fields in general talk. The pickers were men, women, and children, each covered with a broad-brimmed hat or bonnet as protection against the glaring sun. Each carried under the arm a small basket, into > years. which the plucked blooms were tossed, and these small baskets were emptied into larger ones, which were borne to the factory, where, in a large room, like the refectory of a monas- tery, they were emptied upon the floor in great piles. “Tt takes four million pounds of roses to produce the yearly output of perfumery in the Maritime Alps, and to obtain one pound of the essence of roses twenty-two thousand pounds of roses, or nearly three million single rose blossoms, are required. That woman yonder,” added our guide, pointing to one of the pickers, “can gather forty pounds of ‘roses in four hours. In the same time she can pick six pounds of jasmine. In the third of a day she can gather twelve pounds of tuberoses, but to gather twenty pounds of violets or orange blossoms takes a whole day.” “Then,” said I, “it appears that while they are gathering flowers you are gathering statistics.” “Quite so,” was the answer. ‘Our statistics, on which we base oyr wages and estimate the value of our workpeople, are the result of careful observation during a long number of We know exactly what we have to pay for flowers, how much we ought to pay for picking them, how much we ought to get out of COLLECTING THE SWRET-SMELLING ORANGE BLOSSOM. (Photograph.

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IN THE LAND OF PERFUME. 489 the picker, how much we have to pick each year to meet the demand, and, of course, how much profit we are going to make. We pay about threepence per pound for roses, fivepence to six- pence per pound for orange blossom. A pound of jasmine costs us about four times as much as a pound of roses. Tuberoses cost about as much per pound as jasmine, and violets and cassia buds twice as much as tuberoses. Regarding the number of pounds of flowers annually consumed here, it is impossible to give exact figures, but you may take it as a reasonable estimate that we use every year three million six hundred thousand pounds of orange flowers, four million eight many beautiful blooms does one fancy there are in that single pound ? At déjeuner we were told more of how the flowers are picked. It seems that, as there is a calendar of months, so is there a time-table for each particular day. Everybody who is the least interested in flowers knows that different blossoms open at different times during the day, and at a certain moment, either at morning, noon, or evening, the scent from each particular blossom is most powerful. Hence it comes about that the gatherers, in picking certain flowers, have to be up and doing early in the day, for, since the blossom has to be picked From a\ hundred thousand pounds of roses, two hundred and eighty thousand pounds of violets, about “double that amount of jasmine, a hundred and forty thousand pounds of tuberoses, sixty thousand pounds of cassia, and thirty thousand pounds of jonquils. When you remember that in British India and Europe there is annually consumed over a hundred and fifty thousand gallons of perfumed spirit, such as Hungary water, essence of lavender, eau-de-Cologne, and other preparations, you will understand these astonishing figures.” All this was beyond my power to gauge. Can any reader of THE WipE Wor Lp grasp the meaning of three million pounds of roses, or, indeed, the meaning of a single pound? How Vol. xx.—62. THE TUBEROSE HARVEST IN PULL SWING. (Photograph. when its odour is strongest, no time can be lost in getting it to the factory, where—murderous thought !—the little life of the flower is crushed, or its soul coaxed from it, by a lump of coarse fat! Jasmine, for instance, has to be gathered soon after sunrise, and roses are gathered the moment they open, whereas pinks are plucked after three hours’ exposure to the sun. It is said that the present Empress of Russia, who obtains her scents exclusively from Paris and spends at least two thousand pounds per year on them, uses a toilet-water composed of violets picked at Grasse between the hours of five and seven o'clock in the evening. An article could, indeed, be written on the use of perfume by well-known people of the present

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490 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. and the past. Queen Alexandra, it is reported, has made the so-called Ess Bouquet the official scent of the Royal Family. The Dowager Queen of Spain gets her perfume from a certain orchid, obtained only in the Philippines. ‘The Queen of Holland shows her taste in frequent purchases of eau-de-Cologne. The whole history of the art of perfumery makes the most fascinating reading, from the time when d actually went so far as to assert that a certain scale or gamut exists among odours as well as among sounds. The sharp smells corresponded with the high notes and the heavy smells with the low notes in the musical scale. He could take fifty different odours and assign to each, in accordance with its relative strength of smell, a position in his so-called gamut of odours, so that it became possible to make a GATHERING JASMINE, WHICH MAKES THE MOST DELICATE AND EXQUISITE PERFUME. From a Photograph. aromatics were used in the East, as we. know from the Bible, down to the time when the English Parliament passed an Act penalizing all women, “of whatever rank, profession, or degree, that shall . . . impose upon, seduce, and betray into matrimony any of His Majesty’s subjects by the scents, paints, cosmetic washes, artificial teeth, hoops, high-heeled boots,” etc., even to the present day, when ’Arriet empties her purse for a bottle of musk. Before we left the table our pleasant guide recalled his promise about the musical scale of perfume. ‘There used to be,” he said, ‘in London a great authority on perfumes, whose sense of smell was so perfectly developed that, no matter how many different odours there were in his laboratory, he could distinguish every one by name; and, knowing the analogy that exists between musical scales and colours, bouquet merely by reference to the notation on the staves. ‘That is to say, the odours selected for the bouquet had to correspond in this gamut like the notes of a chord in music, in which, as everyone knows, one false note will destroy a harmony.” From the luncheon-table we went into the busy workrooms, where for some hours we had an opportunity of studying the different methods by which the flowers are ravished of their odours. There was once a time when simpler methods were used, when water only was mixed with the flowers in order to secure the precious juices. But it was quickly discovered that in this operation a large amount of valuable material was lost. Then somebody found out that certain greases, like beef suet or pork fat, possessed a marvellous affinity for the odours of flowers, The industry was revolutionized, and

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IN THE LAND OF PERFUME. : 4ot from that day to this the marriage between ethereal delicacy and grossness has daily taken place. “When a plant is prolific in oil,” said our guide, “it is subjected to pressure. The juice is simply squeezed out of it and the refuse thrown away. That,” he added, “is the simplest of all methods. But there are some plants which give up their perfume less easily. Some of these go through a process of distillation. That is what those alembics are for.” He pointed to a number of copper tanks, like boilers in an engine-room, standing in two rows against the sides of a big room. ‘ You know how the thing is done. The water in the still a metal dish, and the flowers are mixed with it. The fat draws the otto from the flowers, and is then strained, fresh flowers being continually added until the fat is of the required strength. Those piles of roses yonder will shortly be on their way to the bains-marie, as we call the macerating pans. The orange and cassia are also macerated. The violet first goes through a macerating process and finishes by the enfleur- age process, which I am now going to: show He led us into a room which contained thousands of square flat trays, each about three inches deep, with a glass bottom. “You will remember,” he said, “that in the last process is turned into steam, the volatile oil rises with “it, is liquefied, and, later, condensed. Alcohol is often used to dissolve the oil. “The finest odours, however,” he went on, “are procured by maceration or absorption. This latter method is also called the enfleurage, which you have probably heard of. No doubt, too, you have heard of pomade, which is the pleasant name we give to perfumed grease. Maceration takes from twelve to fifty hours, according to the flower used. Beef fat or another sort of suet is melted by steam heat in ey ; ‘THE “* BAINS-MARIE,” OR MACERATING VANS, IN WHICH THE PERFUME OF THE FLOWERS IS ABSORBED BY VARIOUS FATS. From a Photograph. 5 heat was applied to the blossoms, but in the enfleurage no heat is applied, since it has been found that the odours of some flowers are so delicate that heat spoils them.” A woman was kneeling on the floor by a quickly-growing pile of these wooden frames, each of which had previously been covered with a thin layer of fat. By her side was a basket of blossoms, and, as the frames were being placed one by one on the pile by a helper, she sprinkled on the grease-covered glass in each frame a number of buds, When this operation was

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492 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. SSO EL ss wee ES TICES ; A SCENE TO MAKE THE FLOWER-LOVER GRIEVE—MILLIONS OF ROSES BEING PREPARED FOR THE PERFUME-PANS. From a Photograph. complete and the pile of trays had reached a certain height it was put away, and a new pile begun. The enfleurage occupies from twelve to seventeen hours, and sometimes thirty thou- sand frames are in use. The flowers in the trays are continually being added to as long as the plants are in blossom. After complete absorption has taken place the fat is scraped from the glass bottoms of the trays, melted at a low temperature, and strained. The pomade is then stored in bulk, and eventually finds its way to manufacturing perfumers throughout the world. It is by this method that the lovely scents of the jasmine and _ tuberose are extracted. Shortly after came the parting at the doors, when I received the pretty gift which still lies fragrant on the dressing-table. Its odour brings back each day the memory of fields of countless flowers and busy hives of industry in which the human bees of Southern France toil daily to meet the demands of fashion and commoner needs. The soap with which I wash my hands in the morning is a link between them and me, for in it I can smell the thyme and cassia. My lady’s handkerchief recalls the workers of the dawn hastening to pluck the jasmine before its odour dies; and when I dip into the history- books the romantic story of the world’s de- pendency on scent lies before me. Those flower-gatherers at Grasse were but a handful out of the millions of toilers who since the beginning of time have been labouring to gratify the sense of smell of their fellows, while their products have been quarrelled over by emperors, sung by poets, and put to base uses by wicked queens.

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THE QUEST of the “O'BAKI.” By W. Wuitrieip FEGEN. While acting as sub-editors on two Yokohama newspapers, the author and a friend conceived the idea of taking a little bungalow and “ bachelorizing.” Their search for suitable quarters led them into the uncanny adventure here described — a puzzling affair, indeed, from whatever standpoint one regards it. W HAD never believed in ghosts. In my early youth my parents had } most carefully instilled into me the Mm doctrine of their non-existence. or Later on I had sought them with- out success, and once spent several nights alone —quite without result—in a remote Devonshire manor-house, in which no one would dwell and for which no tenant could be found on account of its terrible reputation. Furthermore, I had sought the Maori ¢an:zea and the Australian bunyip in their native lairs without success, and had looked in vain for Siamese pz, Burmese nadés, and Malay Aan/u in ruined temples and jungles. Consequently, I was disposed to look on all ghosts as the results of a disordered liver or of diseased nerves. Nowadays, however, I am by no means so sure of their non-existence or otherwise, but am fain to think that Hamlet was perhaps not far wrong in his criticism of Horatio’s philosophy. The change arose in this wise. It was just at the close of the Japan-China War. Peace had been declared, for which I, as a Press correspondent, was not altogether sorry, as the latter stages of the game, culminating in the suicide of poor old Admiral Ting at Wei- hai-wei, had not been very lively, and the weather had been atrocious. I was, and always had been, taken with Japan as a delightful place of residence, and so when I was offered a post as sub-editor on one of the Yokohama papers— the Japan Daily Advertiser—I made no bones about accepting it, as it would give me a chance A JAPANESE GHOST ‘STORY. 000000 of attaining some insight into the domestic life of a people of whose military genius, patriotic spirit, and devotion I had seen a great deal. And so, ensconced in one of the quietest of the Yokohama hotels, I tackied my new duties, reading the somewhat copious literature on Japan in my ample spare hours, and doing my best to gain—what no foreigner has ever yet gained—a true insight into the people them- selves. It was a pleasant existence, broken by little excursions into the country, yachting trips on the bay, and rambles through the streets of curio shops and bazaars, but rendered still more pleasant by an acquaintance I had made at the hotel in the person of a young Englishman who, strangely enough, occupied a precisely similar position to mine on an “opposition” paper. Harrison had been all over the world, and seen men and things; I had, or flattered myself I had, done the same. Both were of an energetic bent, both interested in things Japanese, and both professed a confirmed disbelief in the supernatural and all appertain- ing thereto. And so, before long, we were both working together—an arrangement at which our respective editors looked askance at first, until they found that it led to splendid results. We studied the Japanese tongue together, and disturbed our neighbours by mighty bouts at jiu-jitsu and ken-jitsu (Japanese two-handed sword-play), in which we were both taking lessons from the best professionals available. “Aba!” quoth my editor one morning as I entered the office. ‘That’s a fine black eye you’ve got. Been thrown out of a ‘rikisha’? That’s the usual story.” “No,” I replied, mildly, “I got this from Harrison.” “Ha! ha!” roared my chief. ‘Thought it wouldn’t last. You chaps were too friendly altogether. Who’s-the ladyjin the case ?”

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494 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. And meanwhile a similar scene was taking place in the office of the Japan Daily Herald, to which my fidus Achates had gone with his “wrist bandaged up and a scar on his cheek. Of a truth the jiu-jitsu had been a bit lively on the previous evening, and a fall over a stone had damaged both of us somewhat. After a few days’ rest, however, we were at it again. It was during these few days that Harrison remarked :— “ Look here, old man—I’m rather tired of this hotel life—the same thing day after day—same idiotic globe-trotters, same_bar- loafers, same everything. Why shouldn’t we two take a house and bachelorize? We should save a lot of expense, do just what we like, and have nobody to growl at us for kicking up too | much noise or damaging the furniture.” We talked it over, and decided to try the experiment as soon as we found a place which suited our tastes and pockets, and each undertook to keep his weather-eye lifting for suitable quarters. One day, strolling on the Bluff, as the hill which over- looks the town of Yokohama and forms the favourite resi- dential area of foreigners is called, I found our ideal house. It was quite a picturesque little place, of what is called s#noko construction, or, in other words, half European and half Japanese. It had all the rooms we were ever likely to want ; stood, so to speak, in the shadow of an ancient temple embowered in cryptomeria and other trees ; had an interesting little Japanese landscape garden, and commanded a panoramic view of Tokio Bay, the town of Yokohama, and the adjacent country, with the peerless Fujiyama rising in the distance. It was just the very thing; and when the momban, or caretaker, had told me that the rent demanded was ridiculously moderate in amount, I rushed off post-haste and brought my chum in triumph to inspect my find, over which he grew equally enthusiastic. And we dispatched the momban to a neighbouring yadoya for sundry bottles of beer and glasses, and, pipe in mouth, decided on our respective bedrooms, etc. This room would serve capitally as dining and general work-room, of this we would pad the floor and the lower part of the walls with Japanese straw mats for our jiu-jitsu, in that we would stable our bikes, etc. And as it was too late to see the landlord that evening, I was to THE AUTHOR, MR. FEGEN, WHO HERE DESCRIBES HIS ENCOUNTRR WITH A JAPANESE GHOST. From a Photo. by J. Antonio. do so in the morning, and get a lease of the place for a twelvemonth at least. Oh, yes; we were lucky indeed ! It was after dinner that evening that the talk fell upon ghosts. Harrison read the account, in Chamberlain’s “Things Japanese,” of the obaki and &itsune, the badger and the fox, two animals gifted with mighty supernatural powers, which crop up perpetually in Japanese history, romance, and drama. The o’daéz, or badger, is accredited with the power of assuming after nightfall the form of a man, captivating fair wandering damsels and leading them to destruction. The Attsune, or fox, on the other hand, transforms him or herself into the resemblance of a beauteous maiden, gets into the | path of susceptible man, and likewise proves his swift and sure ruin. Although these beliefs are by no means the only ones of the kind, they are the most universally believed in, and it is absolutely astonishing to find how widespread they are, even amongst the educated classes. There was a little knot of half-a-dozen or so of us loung- ing in long chairs on the hotel veranda and enjoying the post- prandial smoke when the dis- cussion started. An American globe-trotter told a story of a kind of werwolf which had infested a district in Omaha. Then a missionary, on a trip to Japan to regain his health after a ten years’ residence in a tropical isle, told us how an apparition of an immense luminous skull had cleared out an entire village of semi-cannibals, and how the- said skull had turned out to be merely a huge fungus sprouting from a tree-trunk. And so on, until Harrison said :— “Queer, isn’t it, that such eminently practical people as the Japanese should have such beliefs ? Look at their army organization, look at their Murata rifles, look at the men-of-war they are building for themselves! Only yesterday I went into a littie, poky watchmaker’s shop in Bentendori. A little, wizened old chap was tinkering with what looked like parts of a W. WHITFIELD phonograph. I said politely, ‘That Edison’s a clever man, isn’t he?’ The reply came, ‘I do not think him very clever. He was not the real inventor of the phonograph. It was Graham-Bell ; Edison improved it. Now I am improving on that of Edison, and it will be a thousand times better,and canybe sold at

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THE QUEST OF THE “O’BAKI.” 495 half price.’ And the old chap charged me about a penny three-farthings for putting in a new watch-glass, and showed me some designs for a dirigible torpedo, which he said he was going to make when he had money enough! Yet all the time he was talking there were two little white plaster foxes with bits of red rag style ‘The Hutch.” There was no reason for this, save that everyone else in Yokohama seemed to give their houses the most malapropos names ssible. After I had stated my errand the landlord, with much efflorescent Oriental ver- biage, said: _— “Tt is impossible, most good sir, for che “(HE HAD GIVEN HIS WORD AND WOULD NOT DEFART FROM IT, HE SAID.” round their necks squatting on a shelf over his head, in order to keep the devils out, or some- thing of that sort. It’s queer that such a clever people should stick to these old-world superstitions.” And we agreed it was, and gradually departed. Next morning betimes I made my way to the landlord of what Harrison and I had agreed to humble domicile in question was let to another yesterday.” He could not even say who the new tenant was, but described him as a dark-complexioned, elderly man, who had, without a murmur, paid three months’ rent in advance. And then I did very wrong and offered him double the three months’ rent to explain that ;it was a mistake

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496 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. and turn the new tenant out in our favour, as well as twenty-five per cent. increase in rent for the balance of a year. For we really wanted that house badly. But the landlord was firm. He had given his word and would not depart from it, he said. Perhaps we might arrange with the new tenant. Then—and in considera- tion of the additional twenty-five per cent. of rent—he would have no objection. But I, dis- appointed, left in a huff, and then—well, things went on as before. It was about a week or ten days after we had sustained this check to our designs that I had to visit our composing-room on one of those errands connected with the issue of a daily paper which make sub-editors grey before their time. I interviewed Dos Santos, our Portuguese foreman compositor, a respectable man and a stanch Catholic, and possessed of a huge family like a flight of stairs. As I was leaving he said :— “Excuse me, sir, but didn’t you say the other day that you were looking for a house ?” I admitted that I might have done so, and then told him about the disappointment my friend and myself had had. He looked some- what startled for a minute, and then said :— “It’s curious, sir, but it was I who took that house.” Then he added, after a brief hesita- tion, “And now I want to get away.” “Why,” I exclaimed, “I thought it would just suit you. Cheap rent, plenty of room, and you a man with a big family. What’s wrong with it? Bad water, leaky roof, typhoid drains, quarrelsome neighbours, or—or ghosts ?” “Yes, sir,” he answered, gravely. ‘ Don’t laugh at me; it’s just that. It’s ghosts. I’m not afraid of them myself, but my family are frightened to stop there. They say they won't, and they surely mean it. They won’t stop, sir.” “But what worries them? What have they seen, or heard?” “That’s part of the trouble, sir. They won’t say that they’ve seen or heard anything—just that there are ghosts and they won’t stay. And my wife and eldest son are as bad as the little ones. I don’t know what to do. Probably some of the neighbours have been setting them against the house, but it’s a fact that for some years past no tenants have stayed more than a week or two in it. One of the priests at the temple at the back, to whom I spoke about it, said that he had heard that there was an o'baki there.” I laughed. ‘And you a good Catholic, and believe in all that rubbish!” I cried. “I thought you had more sense. But I'll speak to Mr. Harrison about it and let you know later” ; which same I did, at tiffin-time. Jim Harrison said that, he would lay the ghost or get laid out in the effort, and that was what I told Dos Santos that afternoon. Also that if he would lend us a couple of futons, or thick padded quilts, such as are used for mattress and cover- ing alike throughout Japan, and would keep his family upstairs until daylight, we would settle his ghost for him. He promised to do his share, and I got away from the office early that day and informed his wife of what we were going to do. From her I learned what I had failed to draw from her husband—to wit, that every- morning between one and three o’clock a Strange, illumi- nated figure appeared in one of the downstairs rooms, and after .moving about for a while. vanished, none knew whither. No; she had not seen it herself, but that was the story, and both she and two of her daughters had seen the strange bluish light which accompanied the figure reflected on the side of the staircase. A Japanese neighbour—a smart young man who had been a soldier—told the same tale. He had never seen it, and (with a shrug) didn’t want to. No, he wasn’t afraid; but if it was really an o’da&i it were best left alone. He had never seen an o’4aki, but his great-grandmother’s sister, who lived in Hizen Province, had been thrown or led by one over a precipice. I listened to all this and more with some amusement; but it must be admitted that my nerves were slightly a-tingle as Harrison and I reached my foreman’s door at about ten-fifteen ‘that night. My armament consisted of a big Colt’s “ Frontier” revolver, carrying a cartridge like that of a rifle, together with a policeman’s baton and a pair of handcuffs borrowed for the occasion. Harrison had a pretty little two- shot Derringer, a short atana, or Japanese sword, and a bull’s-eye lantern. He had further, although unknown to me at the outset, brought along a little coil of fine steel wire. Our host for the occasion had provided us with a pile of fx‘ons and pillows, a lamp, a brazier of burning charcoal, a kettle of water, a bottle of vermouth, and a pack of cards. He then reverently brought downstairs a handsome ebony and silver crucifix, which he placed on the very spot where the apparition was said to make its appearance. Then, after wasting about half an hour in striving to initiate us into some complicated game of cards, he left us to our own devices. Our preparations after his departure were simple in the extreme. Harrison Carefully placed the crucifix in a sort of cupboard under the stairs, and then, bringing out his coil of wire, began with it to construct a kind of

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THE QUEST OF THE “O'BAKI.” 497 “IT WAS GOING, AND—I FIRED, AND THEN FIRED AGAIN.” entanglement across the room at the height of a man’s knee. This accomplished, we spread our bedding, lighted our cigars, and chatted peace- fully till midnight, when we extinguished the lamp, lighting the dark lantern in its place, and got ready for business. It was arranged that I Vol. xx.—63, . was to keep watch till two a.m., when my chum was to relieve me. His breathing soon an- nounced that he was asleep, and then a deathly silence prevailed, broken only by the occasional boom of the bell of the neighbouring temple and the monotonous chant of the priests on

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498 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. guard, who struck their little wooden bells in thythm to the perpetual “Wung ma me a-horé Da. Nung ma me a-horé Datbutsu” (“To Thee, O most excellent Buddha”), repeated again and again for minutes at a time without intermission. Beyond this, the cheepy-chirpy song of a cricket somewhere in the room, the aforementioned breathings of my comrade, and the occasional screech of an owl.or night- jar outside, there was not a sound ; and, as will happen at such times, thoughts cf all kinds came crowding to my brain. How we should be chaffed anent our lonely vigil if no “spook ” put in an appearance was, I fancy, the one most prominent. Then I smiled to myself as I thought of our wire entanglement and the sacred symbol in the cupboard under the stairs. Next, a brilliant idea struck me. I would remove all the lethal weapons from Harrison’s reach, rig myself out as much like a ghost as possible, and, when the temple bell announced that my vigil was up, give my chum a trifling surprise. It might mean a bit of practical jiu-jitsu, and so I had better get the “entanglement” down first. It must be getting near two now, and—— Good heavens! What was that? A curious greenish spot of light appeared on the lath-and-plaster wall on one side of the room at about three feet from the floor—a kind of indefinable halo about an invisible centre. And it was spreading—expanding on all sides. Slowly I slid my left hand up over my com- panion’s mouth, giving it at the same time sufficient lateral motion to ensure awaking him, while with my right hand I grasped my revolver and brought it out from under the edge of my covering futon. Still keeping my eyes on the light, I seemed to be suddenly aware that the centre of it was assuming a human form, becom- ing condensed as it were, and darkening mean- while. Then, as though actuated by a common impulse, both of us sat up, and as we did so the form stood out clearly. It was that of an old man dressed in the wing-like shoulder adornments of the feudal days, with hakama (a kind of bagyy, trouser-like nether garment), his hair done up in the quaint “ paint-brush ” style. of three decades ago, and in his right hand an antique iron war-fan. The figure stood out clearly against the halo of light, which seemed to emanate from behind it, and it advanced slowly a couple of paces along the mats until just in front of the /okonxoma, or seat of honour, such as one finds in all Japanese rooms, and there made a profound obeisance. “Good heavens!” whispered Harrison ; “why, it’s gone right through three of the wires |” As he spoke the figure proceeded across the room, through two more of the wires, towards the darakami, or sliding paper shutters which masked a cupboard. Here it stopped, and the mysterious light, which had hitherto always seemed to keep behind the figure, commenced so to envelop it that its outlines gradually became blurred. It was going, and—I fired, and then fired again. Harrison first fired his Derringer and then flung his sword, which drove . through the tough paper doors and remained with its square point fixed in the plaster of the wall, But the figure had gone. Then we struck lights and looked at one another like a pair of idiots, while our host, Dos Santos, came to the top of the stairs, and behind him we caught a glimpse of his family, huddled together like a flock of frightened sheep. And then—well, I took a pull at my “pocket pistol” and handed it to my friend, who seemed almost as much a-tremble as I confess I was. Just as we were giving the thrilling details of our experience there came a thundering knock at the door and a voice cried, “ Vot der devil’s the matter here? Vot for you shoot into my house for?” It was only the man living in the house next door, about fifty yards off—a Belgian who had married a native wife and become a Japanese subject by naturalization. He was in his pyjamas and a rage, for my two bullets had gone through the two flimsy lath-and-plaster walls and across the intervening space, and one had lodged in his pillow, only a few inches from his head. Of course, we had to explain and apologize, and ultimately he quieted down. “Yes,” he was pleased to say, “if you wass kill der ghost it wass goot. Mein own peoples wass afraid from him.” And he went home and was kind enough next day to send me the bullet from his pillow. There is little more to be said. The unfortu- nate Dos Santos and his tribe vacated the house at once and it was nof taken by Harrison and myself. No report of our adventure got about the town, the Dos Santos family having apparently some reason of their own for keeping the thing quiet, and our Belgian friend being apparently too phlegmatic to think more of it. Only once when I met him did he remark, jovially, ““Haf you yet kill no more ghosts, mein frient ? Haf you shoot no more beeble’s pillows ?” The exigencies of my work took me away from Yokohama for some months, and on my return I found that the house where we had had the curious experience I have related had been pulled down and a new one was being erected in its stead. Curious to relate, under- neath it was found a hole manifestly the abode of one of the smaller carnivora, and apparently

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THE QUEST OF THE “O’BAKI.” “AT THE BOTTOM THEY DISCOVERED A HUMAN SKELETON.” of an o’bake, or badger. afterwards, was made. the house were two wells, one of which had And, a little while a still more curious discovery In the garden attached to been disused for years. When the new house was ‘built some men were sent down to clean the old well out, and there, at the bottom, they discovered a human skeleton, as well as some enamelled silver hair ornaments. The skeleton was examined by three doctors, two English and one Japanese. They, with- out knowing anything of the hair ornaments, expressed the opinion that the remains were those of a young Chinese girl, and that they had probably lain there for several years. And, as the ornaments were just those worn by the better class of Chinese women, they were pro- bably correct. As to whether there are such things as ghosts T now have my own opinions.

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THE GREAT WALL WHICH HAS BEEN BUILT TO PROTECT GALVESTON AGAINST THE SRA. From a Photograph. LIFTING A CITY. A WONDERFUL ENGINEERING FEAT. By W. T. Hornapay. In 1900 the City of Galveston, U.S.A., situated on a low-lying island, was practically destroyed by a tidal wave, which drowned ten thousand of the inhabitants. In rebuilding their wrecked city the authorities decided to guard against any possibility of the same calamity again befalling them. To achieve this end they have had recourse to a most remarkable scheme, whereby the whole city—its buildings, tramways, and even its trees and gardens—is to be lifted several feet in air and replaced upon a higher foundation! SS|HEN the great storm and tidal ‘ wave of 1900 devastated the City of Galveston, Texas, and killed ten thousand of her citizens, it was pre- " dicted by many that the survivors of the catastrophe would abandon their wrecked and damaged homes, and that the site of the town would soon be utterly deserted ; nothing would remain of Galveston but the memory of its past greatness. Nothing of the kind happened, however. Amid the débris of the buildings, with their fortunes depleted and loved ones torn from them, the brave people of the stricken city set about making plans for her rebuilding. A few of the weaker folk left the place and sought homes elsewhere, but the great majority of those who had gone through the terrible experience resolved to remain and do their part towards making a new city. Since then wonders have been accomplished, in the face of obstacles that seemed at first sight insurmountable. The work of rebuilding has been going on steadily ever since the day of the calamity which wrought the ruin. All signs of the wreckage have been effaced; the ten thousand of population which was lost by the storm has been recovered — and more besides. Many new business buildings and handsome residences have been erected, and the people of the city are possessed of a feeling of confidence in the security of their lives and property that is an asset for her continued growth and future greatness. The whole city, site and buildings alike, is being remade with an eye to’ protecting it adequately against any repetition of the catas- trophe of 1900. These protective plans are the most remarkable and stupendous of modern times. More than eight million dollars will have been expended when the protective works are completed. The first of these was the building of a sea-wall, nearly four and a half miles in extent, along the front of the city on the side facing the ocean. During the storm of 1900 the maximum height of the water which swept over the city was thirteen feet. The sea-wall rises four feet above that height, and it. is believed

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LIFTING A CITY. 501 that it insures protection against future on- slaughts by the sea. A drive-way, fifty feet - wide, bordered by a pretty park, is being con- structed along the sea-front on a level with the top of the sea-wall, its five-foot concrete top serving as a walk on the ocean side of the boulevard. In order to doubly oe the protection of the city from an invasion by the sea, the sea- wall is being supplemented by a most audacious piece of engineering—nothing less than raising the level of the city up to a height of thirteen feet all along the course of the wall, over an extent of five hundred blocks. This “ grade- raising” work has been in progress more than three years, and it will take about another two years to complete it. The contractors for the work are Messrs. Goedhart and Bates, and the amount of their contract is over two million dollars. In addition to the city filling, the a above the proposed new grade. But could it be done? The contractors said it was impracti- cable, if not actually impossible. The city authorities, however, went ahead and had the plans for the work prepared. Then bids were called for. Although news that the contract for this work was to be let reached contractors in every part of the world, only two tenders were received. One of these bidders submitted a proposition to raise the grade of the city by means of dry filling, which must be distributed upon private lots -and blocks at the city’s expense. ‘The other bidder proposed to raise the grade by means of water-borne material, taken from the bottom of the sea and pumped into the city by means of powerful dredges. Messrs. Goedhart and Bates put in this scheme, and it was accepted. The placing of more than thirteen million six hundred thousand cubic yards of material A CANAL HAS BEEN SPECIALLY MADE IN KDRR THAT THE DREDGES CAN PUMP THE FILLING MATERIAL INTO THE CITY FROM CALM WATER—THE PHOTOGRAPH SHOWS TWO OF THE VESSELS AT WORK, From a Photo, by Edworthy. county and federal governments will expend about another million dollars in raising the level of their properties adjacent to the city. When the proposition for raising the city was first mooted, it was looked upon as wholly impracticable. Nothing of the kind had ever before been attempted, and prominent con- tractors pronounced the scheme absurd. To raise the city’s level meant that buildings of all kinds would have to be raised in order that the new filling might be placed under them. The thing was utterly impossible! But the men in charge of the affairs of the city said that it must be done; it was that or nothing. If the city was to be restored and its permanency assured it must be lifted above its present low-lying site. The undertaking meant that more than three thousand buildings would have to be lifted is required to bring the level up to the stipu- lated height. Of this amount about eleven million three hundred thousand cubic yards is involved in the city’s contract and two million three hundred thousand cubic yards in the county and federal governments’ contracts. Before beginning the work of raising the grade of the city, the contractors had to solve the problem of operating the dredges success- fully. These boats were built in Holland for the special service in which they are now employed, being self-loading and self-discharging. They are four in number, and all of them were taken across the ocean under their own steam, which is in itself a new thing in dredge perform- ances. The Leviathan, as the largest of the four dredges is called, is of a thousand horse-power ; the three smaller vess¢ls-are each of five hundred

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g02 THE WIDE cP WORLD MAGAZINE A NEARER VIEW OF A DREDGE, SHOWING HUW THE OCEAN SILT IS PUMPED INTO THE PIPES FOR CONVEYANCE From a Photo. by) horse-power. The contractors suffered the loss of one dredge on the way across the ocean. It was caught in a twelve-day gale just off the Azores and went down, carrying fifteen of its crew to their death. It was found impracticable to unload the cargoes of the dredges into the distributing pipes from the unsettled surface of the ocean, and in order to provide quiet water for this purpose a From a Photo, by) ‘TO GALVESTON. (Edworthy. canal three miles long had to be constructed. This canal leads from the deep water of the sea towards the interior of the island upon which the City of Galveston is situated. It is eighteen feet deep and sufficiently wide to permit the | passage of the dredges with ease. At the island end of the canal a turning basin has been con- structed, and it is here that the dredges lie while their cargoes of filling material are being dis- , [Edworthy.

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LIFTING A CITY. : 503 charged into the distributing pipes, which extend to the various districts where the level-raising may be in progress. The constructing of this canal was of itself no small undertaking. The excavation of more than one million seven hundred and fifty thousand cubic yards of material was necessary in its construction, and when the work of raising the grade is finished the contractors must fill up the canal and restore its site to the new level. The distance from the turning basin to the locality in the ocean where the dredges take on their cargoes of filling material is six miles. The average loading time of each vessel is about forty minutes, and the discharging time from a quarter to half an hour. The smaller boats make six round trips per day of twenty-four hours, and the Leviathan five round trips per From a Photo. by) day. The filling material consists of fifteen to forty-five per cent. sand; the remainder is salt water, The distributing pipes which lead from the turning basin to the districts where the water-borne material is to be placed have an enormous carrying capacity. The pipe which the Leviathan uses is five thousand feet long, and those of the three smaller dredges three thousand feet long. The largest pipe has a dis- charge capacity of forty-three inches, but it is kept throttled -to thirty-three inches. The shorter pipe-lines are throttled to twenty-two inches. The semi-liquid filling material flows away from the discharge dredges on a slope of one foot in every hundred.. The scene in the territory where one of these pipes is belching forth its grade-raising material is interesting and remarkable. The houses have been raised on jacks in preparation for the new grade—in some cases to a height of eight to twelve feet above the old level—so that they have the appearance of being on stilts. In ~~ PIPES LAID READY FOR ACTION, many instances shrubberies, trees, and flower- gardens have also been elevated to the height of the proposed grade. There they remain while the ocean sand is pumped in by the dredges and settled around and under them. While the dis- charge from the dredges is going on the surface of the ground has the appearance of an overflow. The sand is soon precipitated, however, and the surplus water flows away into drainage ditches which the contractors have constructed for the purpose. The flooded condition subsides within a few minutes after the discharge is over, the sand packs hard and firm, and the inconveniences caused by the work are remarkably slight. ‘Temporary elevated sidewalks are constructed in order that the people may have access to their homes while the filling process is going on. More than fifteen miles of electric street rail- (Edworthy, - way track are embraced in the level-raising area. The process of bringing the track up to the new grade is simple and comparatively inexpensive. The ties, with the rails still attached to them, are jacked up and the liquid material discharged from the dredges is permitted to flow under- neath, gradually raising the road bed until the desired elevation is reached. In places the track has to be temporarily elevated in order to cross over the distributing pipes. The mains and laterals of the gas and water works are raised to the surface of the old grade and the new filling is placed over them. One of the most remarkable features of the grade- raising work has been that the services of the public utility companies have not been inter- rupted to any appreciable degree during its progress. The inconvenience to the business interests of the city, too, has been very slight. The worst thing about the improvement is the destruction of shrubbery and, trees which it must

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504 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. IN THE RESIDENTIAL SECTION—-THE HOUSES AND THE TRAM-LINES ARF LIFTED ON ‘‘ JACKS” AND THE FILLING MATERIAL PUMPED IN UNDER THEM. From a Photo. by Edworthy, inevitably cause. A few of the wealthier citizens have raised the trees about their homes, but most of the larger trees were left standing and are being filled in around their trunks. It is claimed by forestry experts that all trees and shrubbery which have not been raised to the new grade will die, although it may be a few years before they reach that inevitable result. In the more fashionable residential districts, where the first grade-raising work was done, the beautifying process of planting new vegetation has made considerable progress. All the street- paving and side walks that existed in the scheduled area will be destroyed by the filling that 1s placed over them. The contractors are required to conform the streets and side-walks to the new lines established by the city, but they do not have to replace the pavements ; the property owners must make these improvements at their own expense. The property owners are also required to bear the burden of paying for raising their own buildings. It is estimated that the average cost of lifting each of the three thousand buildings is not less than one thousand dollars, or an aggregate of three million dollars for this work alone. Two brick churches were raised to the new level at a cost of ten thousand dollars each. The city is preparing to issue fifty thousand dollars of bonds to pay for raising two brick public school buildings. It cost twelve thou- sand dollars each to raise some of the larger and finer residences of the city. The storm of 1900 destroyed the bridges which connected Galveston Island with the mainland. The railroads built a temporary trestle bridge across Galveston Bay, and this structure has heen used ever since as the only means of ingress and egress to the island, except by boat. Plans have now been adopted for building a great concrete causeway across the two miles of water that lie between the island and the mainland. This causeway will cost upwards of two million dollars, and will be used for railway, electric, inter-urban foot-passengers, and all kinds of traffic. With the completion of this link with the mainland the restoration of Galveston will be complete, and it is hoped that she will then occupy a position so secure from storm and tidal wave that there will be no possi- bility of the same catastrophe again overtaking her.

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MORE QUEER FIXES. | By Grorce Darcen, Caprain H. F. Heat, R.N.R., AND ALFRED E. BENNETT. So popular were the series of ‘‘ Queer Fixes’ which we recently published, detailing out-of-the-ordinary happenings and remarkable predicaments, that we have decided to continue them. Below will be found yet another instalment of a fascinating collection of narratives. VIL-IN THE MIDDLE WATCH. By GEORGE DARGEN. T was one of those warm tranquil nights, so common in the Indian Ocean, when the full round moon, sailing through a cloudless sky, almost turns night into day. ®@ - Our steamer—out of deference to her owners I must suppress her name—was bound to Adelaide from Colombo, which latter port we had left two days before. The time was just one hour after midnight, and I, as officer of the middle watch, was pacing leisurely to and fro across the bridge, my mind busy with the flood of idle thoughts that so often flit through one’s brain at such times. I was all alone on the bridge, for the Lascar helmsman sieered in the wheel-house beneath. Presently, as I turned in my walk, I saw the figure of a man standing at the top of the bridge ladder. In the bright moonlight it needed no second glance to tell me that the new-comer was neither the captain nor any of the other officers. “One of the passengers,” I thought, “who, unable to sleep, has come out on deck and, being ignorant of the rules of the ship, has innocently found his way on to the bridge.” Out of pure curiosity I eyed him for some moments ih silence, as, with an air of hesitation, he moved forward to the centre of the bridge, where the light from the standard binnacle fell full upon his face. He was clean-shaven and possessed rather fine, clear-cut features. He was somewhat taller than myself—about five feet seven or so— and I should have judged his age to be about thirty-five. He seemed wholly unconscious of my presence, so presently I approached him, and said :-- “Do you find it too warm below to sleep?” He was slightly startled by my coming so unexpectedly upon him, but recovering himself Vol. xx.—64, immediately, replied, smilingly, “Too warm? Oh, no; but the night being so beautiful I felt I must come on deck.” “You are, perhaps, not aware,” I went on, “that it is against the rules for passengers to come on the bridge?” He looked questioningly at me before reply- ing; then, laying his hand upon my arm per- suasively, he said :— “But you won’t send me away? You will let me stay a little while; it seems so grand to be away up here above all the rest of the ship.” Then, bending nearer, he added, in a low, confi- dential tone: “I’ve given them the slip to-night; they'll never think of looking for me up here, will they?” And he laughed in a soft, self- satisfied way. The man’s manner puzzled while at the same time it interested me, and being curious to see a little more of him, besides being rather thank- ful than otherwise for a little of his company to help pass the watch, I decided not to hurry him away. So we began to talk upon various topics, but chiefly about different parts of India, in which country, I gathered, he had lived for a number of years. After a while, however, it struck me that he had a strange way of abruptly dropping a sub- ject and branching off to something else entirely foreign to the matter under discussion. ‘There were moments, too, when his manner became distrait and his thoughts seemed somewhere else, and I was obliged to repeat my question or remark two or three times before he appeared to catch my meaning, or to be aware, in fact, that I was addressing him at all. It was on recovering from one of these brief fits of abstraction that, apropos of nothing in particular, he exclaimed, with a peculiar intona- tion :— “Tt is in the hills, theyquiet, silent hills, that

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506 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Ihear them. And out here on the silent ocean you hear them calling, don’t you?” Raising his hand, he assumed an attitude of tense alertness, till it seemed to me as if every fibre in his body listened. “Hear them ?” he questioned, in a subdued, mystefious voice, that for some unaccountable reason sent a vague thrill through me. I watched him closely for a little while, for it suddenly occurred to me that he might perhaps have been sitting up late in the smoke-room with convivial friends; but I soon saw that, whatever the meaning of his strange be- haviour, drink was certainly not the cause. By this time, however, I had had quite enough of his eccentric company, so, with a view to bringing our interview to a : close, I made f a move in the direction of the standard com- pass, with the ostensible in- tention of observing how my helmsman was steering. But I had barely taken two steps towards the binnacle when a sudden change passed over my strange com- panion’s features. An angry light blazed forth in his eyes, and seizing me by the arm he commanded, fiercely :— “Stay! You must not go. Listen!” and he pointed out over the ocean. “Don’t you hear them calling? We must go to them, you and I.” For a moment I was simply struck speechless with astonishment ; then, suddenly recovering “pisten!' AND HE POINTED OUT OVER THE OCKAN. ‘DON'T YoU HEAR THEM CALLING?’ ” from my surprise, I wrenched my arm clear of his grasp, exclaiming, indignantly: “What do you mean, man? Are you mad, or what? Be good enough to leave the bridge at once.” But here another surprise ‘awaited me, for my words instantly produced a strangely sobering effect upon him, and his fierce, threatening tone changed to one of terrified entreaty, as, glancing furtively around him, he said, in a frightened whisper: “Mad! Why do they all say I’m mad ?” As the clear moonlight fell upon his face I noticed a pecu- liar gleam in his eyes, and a vague, uncomfortable suspicion awoke in my mind. Next instant the truth burst upon melikea thunder- bolt. This must surely be the passenger with whose friends Crean, our -third officer, was ac- quainted ; and of whom I now re- memberedhaving heard him speak on the day of sailing. The man, it appeared, had a year or two pre- viouslydeveloped a form of homi- cidal mania which led to his being confined in a lunatic asylum. He had only quite recently been released as cured, and with the object of further im- proving his condition he was now travelling in company with his brother and a young medical com- panion. The particularform which his madness took was a desire to occupy some elevated position, from which an ungovernable impulse urged him to throw other people down. This dangerous malady had first manifested itself in him when

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MORE QUEER FIXES. 5°7 out with a hunting party, on which occasion he had with difficulty been prevented from tossing one of his friends over a steep precipice, while on a later occasion he actually succeeded in throwing a lady relative down from a balcony, with the result that she was maimed for life. Although the subject, at the time I first heard it, possessed no more than a mere passing in- terest for me, it now, strangely enough, recurred to me with a vividness that, I need scarcely say, was anything but reassuring. That I could not summarily dismiss my unwelcome visitor was very evident, and I cudgelled my brain in vain to try to hit upon some way of inducing him to go away quietly. Never having come in contact with a madman before, I was very much at a loss as to how I ought to act. I had an idea that I should try to humour “him by pretending to fall in with his crazy notions, and this I was willing enough to do, providing, of course, that his conduct did not become too utterly unreasonable. Open opposition, I had sense enough to know, ewould be the worst possible course to adopt, while any attempt to summon assistance would, I felt certain, be equally unwise. With the precipice and balcony incidents now running persistently in my mind, I am free to ‘admit that I was filled with a certain amount of misgiving, not to say actual fear. What had happened then might very well happen again ; for I was convinced beyond all doubt that the man had been allowed to leave the asylum somewhat before his time. I tried to interest him in the various objects about the bridge—such as the telegraphs, the compass, etc., but when in doing so I again attempted to move towards the middle of the bridge, he, to my no slight alarm, very craftily but unmistakably barred my way. Although I pretended not to notice it, this little manceuvre served to effectually silence whatever doubts I may have hitherto enter- tained as to the man’s harmless intentions, for I could not disguise from myself the fact that he was now deliberately cornering me in the confined space in the starboard wing of the bridge. Whatever wild scheme was maturing in his brain he seemed terribly suspicious of all my movements ; nothing appeared to escape his crafty, observant eye. ~ Never before had I longed as I now did for somebody to come on the bridge to make a report of something, no matter what, so as to give me some excuse for getting away from, or getting rid of, my unpleasant visitor. But nothing so fortunate seemed likely to happen, and as the minutes wore on the feeling of suspense and uncertainty began to get on my nerves as we stood there eyeing each other, I speculating uneasily all the while as to what his next move would be. More than once the idea suggested itself to me to make a dash for the ladder, but to do so I should have to catch him unawares to break past him, a thing which I saw was practically impossible, for there was no evading the steady questioning of those wild, staring eyes; and as for pitting my strength against his, unless abso- lutely forced to do so, that, I realized, would be just as futile; for, whatever the state of his mental powers, there could be no question as to his splendid physical condition. Watching his every move without appearing to do so, I continued to talk at random upon any subject that came into my head, trying at the same time to master my uneasiness and to avoid showing any symptoms of fear. Presently, however, I perceived that my wily friend, whilst replying to my remarks in a more or less sensible manner, was endeavouring, by various little artifices, to edge me nearer and nearer to the ship’s side. With a thrill of genuine terror I thought I foresaw his object in this, and so I contrived, in as seemingly unintentional a manner as possible, to frustrate each of his little moves, although I observed that this quiet opposition increased his irritation. And thus matters stood when a very simple and commonplace incident hastened them to a climax. ‘Ihe madman had once more grasped me by the arm and was directing my attention to the imaginary voices calling to him. “Listen!” he hissed, in the low, breathless voice of a man fast losing control of himself, and he pointed with his hand and craned his head forward as if straining every nerve to listen. At this moment “three bells,” the half hour after one o’clock, rang out clear and sharp on the still night. ‘The unexpected sound arrested the words on his lips ; he seemed for the moment literally transfixed. His pointing right arm remained extended, and his left hand tightened on my arm with a nervous intensity that made me wince. His whole attitude conveyed the idea as of one dreading a sudden attack. The sound of the wheel-house bell had not yet died away, when the deeper tones of the forward bell echoed the three strokes, and were followed immediately by the Lascar lookcut man’s high; pitched monotone: ‘Ham dekhta hai” (“Tam looking out”)—his equivalent for the British seaman’s “ All’s well.” Night after night for years I had heard the old familiar cry repeated half-hourly, so that now, naturally enough, it fell upon my ears almost unheeded. With my~ strange [companion, how-

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508 THE ever, it was different; it acted upon him like a spark upon a powder-magazine. Whether it was the actual meaning of the words themselves that affected him, or merely the sound of a human voice breaking in so unexpectedly upon him, I cannot say ; but with a suddenness that was appalling he seemed transformed into an enraged wild beast about to be robbed of its prey. One swift, defiant glance he cast around him ; then, with an exclamation that was more of a savage snarl than a human cry, he hurled himself upon me and endeavoured to force me back to the ship’s side. Staggered for the instant by the suddenness of the attack, I fortunately retained sufficient presence of mind to grapple with him and put forth all my strength to frustrate his murderous purpose. And now there ensued a grim and terrible struggle—the fiercest struggle for life I have ever been called upon to make. Locked in a deadly em- brace we swayed from side to side of the short, four- feet-wide space in the star- board wing of the bridge, he actuated by the wild, irre- sponsible promptings of his disordered brain, and I by the no less powerful motive of self-defence. No sound escaped us save that of our laboured breathing, which came in great pants, and the scarcely perceptible shuffle of our feet on the thick cocoanut matting which covered the deck of the bridge. As the moon struck full on the frenzied maniac’s face his expression was such as | hope I may never see again. His features were con- vulsed and distorted, his drawn-back lips disclosed his strong, even, white teeth set in a fiendish grin, and in his glaring eyes there gleamed a malignant light. In the strong, vice-like grip of his powerful arms I realized from the first how terribly inferior I was to him physically, but I stubbornly contested every inch of the way as he gradually but surely forced me towards the ship’s side. Incredible as it may seem, I never thought of shouting for help; directly the maniac seized me all my faculties became concentrated upon the supreme task of saving my life. There was little hope of anyone hearing that silent struggle. The thick cocoanut matting would prevent the Lascar at the wheel hearing anything, and the only other member of the watch likely to be MR. GEORGE DARGEN, WHO HERR RELATES HIS ALARMING EXVERIENCES WITH A MADMAN, From a Photograph. WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. within hail would be the other quartermaster, probably coiled up asleep somewhere close by until roused, when wanted, by my whistle. Presently we staggered against the after-rail, and I thought for a moment that my assailant meant to try and pitch me bodily over on the deck below. But in this I was mistaken. With a devilish method in his madness he was obviously determined to force me to the side, where, from a height of nearly forty feet, he could hurl me into the sea, And very soon it seemed to me as if he must eventually accom- plish his object, for while his strength seemed positively superhuman, mine—I realized the fact with a terrible fear clutching at my heart—was ebbing rapidly. I began to wonder how it would fare with me when I reached the water, for I could not swim, and consequently would almost certainly be drawn into the dreaded race of the propeller and cut to pieces. Inch by inch my relent- less assailant bore me back- wards, and as I gradually . yielded to him my rearmost foot came in contact with \ the base of a stanchion. | Throwing all my remaining strength into the effort I set a dead purchase against it, and so for the space of a moment or two held my ground. Whether during that brief pause the madman’s keenly suspicious senses detected some sound that alarmed him, I do not know, but he abruptly released his hold upon me, drew back a pace, and then, before I could recover myself, he stooped and caught me up in his arms, as easily as I might have lifted a child, and carried me to the side of the bridge. I gasped with horror, for it really seemed as if it were now all up with me. But my presence of mind—never, perhaps, more sorely tried than now—did not desert me. My arms, fortunately, were free, and as we reached the rail I clutched the top bar with my left hand, while with my right I gripped the madman by the throat, and, concentrating all my strength into the effort, tried to choke the life-breath out of him. Back over the rail he forced me, till it seemed as if my spine would snap ; but so long as I retained my grip upon his throat his body pinned my legs inside the rail, thus making it impossible for him to throw me over—unless, indeed, we should both topple . over together. a

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MORE QUEER FIXES. 509 “(| GRIPPED THE MADMAN BY THE THROAT AND TRIED TO CHOKE THE LIFE- BREATH OUT OF HIM.” But how long could I hope to hold on in this fashion? The strain upon my left arm was terrific, and my strength was fast giving out. At length, with a feeling of hopeless horror, I felt the muscles of my right arm relax. The madman’s face bent gradually nearer to mine, his hot breath beat upon my face, and his wild, glaring eyes flashed murderously, as with fiendish glee he realized that at last his moment had come. With a despairing prayer on my lips I had given myself up for lost, when there was a shout, a rush of footsteps across the bridge, and the next moment I was jerked inboard, and dropped inert and helpless in the corner of the bridge. Several moments elapsed before I recovered sufficiently to notice what was going on around me, and then, a few paces away, I beheld four men endeavouring to overcome the superhuman struggles of the raging maniac. Vul—A FIGHT FOR LIFE. By Captain H. F. Heat, R.N.R., OF THE EASTERN ‘TELEGRAPH Company. On September 15th, 1904, I was at the Oriental Hotel, Perim Island, when a native attendant casually pointed to an Arab who was quietly talking to several others. “See that man, sahib?” he said. “Yes,” I answered. “Why?” I looked at the man indicated, but did not notice anything very extraordinary in his appearance, except that he was cleaner and a little more clothed than the ordi- nary native coolie. “That man swim two days and two nights, sahib,” continued the attendant. My curiosity was immediately aroused at the idea of such an unusual feat, and so I sent for the man in order to hear his story. By the aid of Mr. D. Muir, of the Eastern Telegraph Company’s staff, who kindly interpreted for me, I was able to extract the following account of what I consider a most marvellous feat of human endurance, well worthy of the pages of THe Wipe Wor.p MAaGazIneE. Seyed Awad was the man’s name, and he was an intelligent, fine-featured Arab belonging to Dubaab, a native village on the Arabian coast about twenty miles south of Mocha. Seyed left Dubaab on Sunday, September r1th, at 5 a.m. in his own gadbah (a native boat like a small dhow) with six companions, three of whom were passengers he was taking to Perim. They set out with a moderate north-west breeze, which, soon after starting, began to increase till it was blowing a moderate gale with a heavy sea. The small boat made very bad weather of it, plunging into the waves and shipping quantities of water. Whether it was-owing to ;the unusual strain

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510 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the boat was subjected to, or to the fact of her being overladen, as she undoubtedly was, about 11 a.m., when off Sheikh Berkhud, the most northerly point of Perim Island, she sprang a leak and began to fill. Ere long she became unmanageable and capsized, throwing all the occupants into the water. They managed to scramble back to the boat, which was now lying bottom up and floating like a log, with only a few inches of the keel out of water. To this they clung, with the seas continually washing right over them. No one spoke, save when one or another called on Allah, whose will they awaited with the habitual calm- ness of the true Arab. After an hour and a half of this two men became exhausted and slipped off, and another one gave way after three hours. The strain of holding on was enormous, owing to the force of the waves, which were now running very high. As each man slipped off to sink be- neath the waters the sur- vivors watched him, powerless to render aid, for it was as much as they could do to retain their own positions. The remaining men held on doggedly till 6 p.m., when two more silently let go and were quickly carried down out of sight. All this time the strong cur- rent, which runs at from three to four knots per hour, had been carrying the capsized boat up the Red Sea. As long as there was the weight of two or three men on the water-logged boat she rode compara- tively steadily, but as one by one they dropped off it became more and more difficult for the survivors to retain their hold, as the waves threatened to turn the boat over and over like a log. Seyed and his sole remaining companion, a lad, held on bravely till midnight, when at last, absolutely exhausted and benumbed with cold, the boy gave his comrade a last despairing look and, without a word, let go his hold, and was instantly lost in the inky SRYED AWAD, THE ARAB WHO WAS ADRIFT FOR TWO DAYS AND TWO NIGHTS ON THE ROTTOM OF A CAPSIZED BOAT IN THE SHARK-INPESTED RED SEA. From a Photograph. blackness of the night. Now commenced Seyed’s terrible, long, and lonely struggle for life. Thir- teen hours had seen all his six companions succumb to exhaustion and the strain of hold- ing on to their slippery, wave-washed support. Seyed himself was to experience another fwenty- seven hours in the water before touching land. The boat, no longer kept steady by the weight of two men, was constantly hurled over and over, the unfortunate Seyed being taken with it. Again and again he was torn from his hold, but each time with the strength of desperation he managed to struggle back. From time to time sharks appeared, swimming close beside him and circling round him, watching him with their awful eyes, but, curiously enough, they never offered to attack him. The current had now turned and was taking him back through the Narrow Straits — between Perim Island and the Arabian Coast—and at daylight on Monday he found him- self travelling down into the Gulf of Aden. The wind and sea were moderating by this time, however, and he was better able to keep his hold, but with the rising of the sun the agony of thirst was added to his other sufferings. He had lost sight of land, but sighted several steamers, but those homeward bound were too far away on the Somali coast side, and those outward bound were too far toward the Arabian coast, for his signals to be seen. But at last he saw one steamer approaching him. With all his strength he waved and shouted, though his throat was so parched and sore he could hardly articulate, till at last, to his intense joy, they answered his hail and bore down towards him. Imagine, then, his despair and anguish when, after arriving almost alongside him, the steamer suddenly sheered off and stood away on to her course again, leaving the poor fellow clinging convulsively to. his,.wrecked

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MORE QUEER FIXES~ Sir boat, up to his chin in the water, with the pitiless sun beating down on his head. The vessel had no flags flying, so one can only hope it was not a British ship which thus deliberately left a drowning man to his fate. The only possible excuse that can be imagined is that those on board may have taken him for a fisher- man on a coracle—a craft made of a few logs roughly lashed together. . This, however, is hardly feasible, for no fisherman would be mad enough to venture out of sight of land on such a craft. Toward nightfall on Monday poor Seyed sighted land, and found that he was being carried back up the Red Sea again, though this time the sweep of the current took him through the Broad Straits. Another night of horror passed. By this time his limbs had lost all sense of feeling, though he still clung on mechanically as if lashed to his support. The return current set him toward the Arabian coast, where at 3 a.m. on Tuesday, the 13th of September, he was finally washed ashore at Ras Sheikh Seyed, almost directly opposite the spot where the disaster had originally occurred. By dint of great efforts he managed to crawl up the beach till he reached the dry land, and though half dead from exhaustion, hunger, and thirst, he yet had the presence of mind to burrow a hole in the warm sand and bury himself up to the neck in it, thus bringing the circu- lation to his numbed limbs. In this pit he lay for two hours, and then got up and managed to walk into Sheikh Seyed village, a journey of two anda half hours, where at last he absolutely collapsed, after forty hours continual immersion in an angry, shark- infested sea! I asked if he had any feeling of fear, but he hardly seemed to under- stand the question. “No,” he answered. “It was the will of Allah.” This aptly illustrates the truly philosophical way in which the Arab looks at every kind of fortune and misfortune. As soon as Seyed was sufficiently recovered he came across to Perim Island, where he told his remarkable story. After gleaning the details from him, I set to work to test its authenticity, and learnt that the THE AUTHOR, MR. ALFRED & WENNETT. From a Photograph. dates of his departure from Dubaab and the manner and time of his arrival at Sheikh Seyed were quite correct. 1X.—A DAY OF EXCITE- MENT.* By ALFRED E. BENNETT. Tue life of a miner in the Western States is essentially a rough one, as he is constantly assuciated with lawless people, and however peaceably inclined he may be he will sooner or later .-be drawn into some gun-fight or knife mélee. I have traversed the West Coast from the interior of Alaska to the mines in Old Mexico, and had very few quarrels, and while from those of my own making I generally emerged in good health, I came very near death at an affair in which, at first, I merely played the part of disinterested spectator. The experience settled for me the question, which is often asked in the West, as to the necessity for carrying weapons. Elderly and prudent persons always answer emphatically in the negative, and at the time of this incident I agreed with them, my _ six- shooter being in my blanket- roll; but since that time it has hung in my belt, regardless of the teachings of the wise- acres and the boasted vigil- ance of the police. In January, 1906, I was at San Carlos, Arizona, having been offered employment at a copper mine located a few miles from the town. I learnt » that the wagons hauling the ore would be at the railroad depét in the afternoon, so I carried my blanket-roll to that place to await the coming of the wagons. The depdt was located about half a mile from San Carlos, and there were no people about except the station agent and a few lazy Apaches. While wandering around in order to kill time I became interested in watching some Indian women build a hut near the tracks. After a while a hand-car came rumbling in with a Mexican section crew. Their foreman, a white *The author writes: ‘The present sheriff of Gila County, Arizona, or the Southern Pacitic station agent at Globe will corroborate all the statements inthis story,”

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512 man, set them to work a few yards from where I stood, and I observed that his language was very loud and abusive even for a “snipe- shooter,” as a section foreman is called in the West. Presently I heard other loud, angry words in his direction, and turning round I saw him engaged in a hot altercation with a couple of white men who-had just passed me. One of the men appeared to be about my age and height, and he . wore a blue shirt and grey slouch hat similar to my own. After a few more words had passed the section foreman, _ beside himself with rage, grossly insulted the man in the blue shirt, and was promptly knocked down for his pains. He was, as the judge told him afterwards, ex- tremely fortunate to escape a worse punishment. The fallen man rose to his feet with the blood streaming from a gash under his eye and his face work- ing convulsively. “Til get a gun and kill you!” he shouted, and ran towards the depot, while the two men a a t. _ et THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. instant while expecting the charge of shot. It seemed an age before I could realize that the gun had missed fire. My would-be “ murderer” then brought his weapon down and jerked wildly at the lever. “T’m not the man,” I called repeatedly, with my hands still up. “You're a liar ; you ave the man,” he replied, with a volley of oaths; and, advancing rapidly, he tried the gun again. At the click of the hammer I dodged involuntarily, but luckily the gun again failed to work. I then realized that I must do something, and do it quickly, too, for the man certainly intended to mur- der me. I could not run away, for he would shoot me in the back; I could not shoot him, for I had no weapon; so I sprang toward him. Finding that the weapon would not fire, the foreman grasped it by the barrel and aimed a vicious blow at my head. I parried with my left arm, receiving a severe bruise, but luckily the weapon did | notreach my head. | The next instant walked away and soon disappeared. I had moved over to the track and started towards the depét, when the enraged “ snipe- shooter” suddenly appeared from behind a coal car with a magazine shot-gun in his hands. “Where did that man go?” he shouted to the frightened Mexicans ; but before they could answer he spied me. “Ah! there you are!” he roared. “I’m going to kill you.” My hands went up above my head as hethrew the gun to his shoulder. ‘Don’t shoot,” I yelled ; “I’m not the man you're looking for.” The foreman was not twenty yards away, and as I spoke I heard the hammer of his piece fall. I cannot describe the multitude of thoughts which surged through my brain during the short ““THE GUN FAILED TO WORK.” I was upon him. I bore him to the ground and struggled desperately with him for the gun. At last, by placing my knee in his chest, I managed to wrench it from his hands, only to have it snatched from me by the station agent, who had just come out. “Don't kill him, lad ; he’s drunk,” he cried. “1 don’t want to kill him,” I replied. “He thinks that I am another man, but I have no especial desire to have him kill me.” The foreman was now half out of his mind with fury, and when I released him he sprang up and tried to take the gun from the agent’s hand. Balked in this, he let go suddenly and ran behind a ‘pile of ties close by, reappearing instantly with one hand behind his. back.

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MORE QUEER FIXES. 513 “ Look out!” shouted the agent, as the man sprang at me, and he struck at the maddened wretch with the gun. He missed, and the foreman dashed at me, mouthing curses and brandishing a formidable Mexican dirk. When my assailant came within striking dis- tance I turned and ran about ten yards, with him in hot pursuit. Then, swinging round suddenly, I struck him with all my force square in the face. The blow fairly lifted him off his feet and stretched him flat upon his back, where he lay half-dazed. The agent assisted me to take the knife from his fist, and we walked away, much relieved that no blood had been shed. All this time the Mexicans had been standing at a safe distance, looking on. In the South- West a Mexican never interferes in a fight between two white men. When I reached the depét I saw the “ snipe- shooter” pick himself up and walk rapidly away toward the town. The agent shook my hand, congratulated me on my escape, and compli- mented me for not running away. He told me that he had seen the foreman dash into the office and seize the gun. The weapon was a new one, and, luckily for me, my assailant was not acquainted with its mechanism, for it con- tained six loaded shells, and it was only neces- sary to press a small button on the side in order to make the magazine work. I owe my life to the fact that, in his anger and excitement, the man overlooked this safety lock. The agent then asked me if I was not going to leave immediately, as he was sure that if I remained I should have to kill the foreman, for he was intoxicated, and was probably even then in search of another weapon wherewith to dispatch me. I replied that I disliked the idea of running away from a man when he was entirely in the wrong; but, taking into con- sideration the fact that he was under the influence of liquor and not answerable for his actions, I would go, as I had no desire to kill him. I therefore took up my blanket-roll and started off along the road to the mine. I expected to be picked up by one of the ore-wagons, but for some reason they were not running that day. After I had travelled two or three miles I over- took the two men who had been the cause of all my trouble, and when I told them my story they were profuse in their expressions of regret that they had not remained longer in the vicinity of the depét. They had left at once, they said, because of the Apache Indian Police, who are very prompt in arresting persons who cause trouble on the reservation. The Indian Police have no jurisdiction outside the reservation, and the boundary-line was only a few miles farther on. I found the two men to be very congenial Vol xx.—65, companions, and as they were miners like myself I walked along in their company. As night approached we found ourselves some six or eight miles from San Carlos, and we fully expected to reach the mine before dark ; but we reckoned without our Indian friends. Suddenly a tall Apache, wearing the black campaign hat and gold cord of the police, stepped into the road directly in front of us, and said one word—“ Agency.” He stretched both arms out to their full length as he spoke, and then pointed in the direction of the Agency. We understood, of course, that he had orders to take us back to San Carlos. I learned afterwards that the defeated “ snipe- shooter” had lost his fighting spirit and had appeared before the Government agent, where he swore to a warrant charging three men with deadly assault. The official had therefore dispatched the police in pursuit of us. We had been unable to see the Indians because of the scrub-bushes which lined the road ; and the wily redskins had kept carefully out of sight, for they probably expected us to try to run away or show some resistance. I thought it queer that the Indian did not search us for concealed weapons; he stood very close to us—so close, in fact, that one of us could have struck him down. Naturally my companions and I were not very well pleased with the prospect of a long tramp back to San Carlos, so we endeavoured to explain things to the officer, but he did not seem to understand. I then attempted to make him comprehend that he could not possibly want me, as I had nothing at all to do with the assault ; but the cunning rascal only answered with a grunt, holding up three fingers to denote that he wanted three men. While engaged in conversation with our captor I heard a few hurried words pass between my companions. I caught the words, “The | camp can’t be more than a couple of miles, and they can’t get us there.” Then, without warning, the man in the blue shirt, who was standing on my left, stepped forward, and his arm came back like lightning. In an instant I understood his purpose, and caught his arm just in time. The action threw us both round to the right, and there before our eyes sat another long-haired Apache on a small pinto pony, his black, beady eyes glittering like a rattlesnake’s over the frowning muzzle of a long blue Colt! Had I missed the man’s hand we should have all three been shot to death in as many seconds, for the man on the horse had had us covered all the time. This accounted for the cool, careless manner of the first ofticer. The Apache Indian Police have a terrible

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514 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. reputation. They are expert trailers and dead shots, and they never fail to get their man. It is also claimed that they take a pleasure in killing a white man who resists arrest. If my companion had reached for a weapon instead of offering to strike with his hand, the move would have been instantly fatal. The Indian in front sprang back, but did not speak or draw his gun; he merely pointed back down the road and gave a significant grunt, which we were not slow to understand, for we were now willing to take the back trail without the waste of more words. ‘The mounted police- man then lowered his gun and led out his com- panion’s horse. It was after dark when we reached the town, and as we had travelled some twelve miles we were very tired and hungry. We were confined in the old San Carlos jail, which is built of stone and adobe, and has served as a prison for Geronimo, the famous war-chief of the Apaches, and some of his cut-throat braves. Here we were placed in a cell with seven Indians who were in jail for being drunk. We were not given anything to eat, and, although I made repeated demands, I was not allowed to purchase food from the Agency store. I should have been released at once had the station agent been in town, but he could not be found, and I had no one to corro- borate my story. The next morning the sheriff of Gila County came to San Carlos, and visited the jail. He promptly ordered the police to take us to the only boarding-house in the place, where we had a good meal. The sheriff then promised to see that we had a hearing as soon as_ possible, but it was eight o'clock in the evening before we were taken before the judge. Several times during the day the Captain of Police came into the cell. He was the only Indian 1 have ever met with any sense of humour; he seemed to regard our arrest as a joke, and asked me why I did not have the section foreman arrested. He said that the Indian women who were building the hut had told him all about the fracas, and they said that the foreman should have been killed. When we were taken before the judge the “snipe-shooter” promptly identified the man in the blue shirt as his assailant, and said that he had no charge to make against the other two. ‘The judge then asked him why he had sworn to a warrant charging three men, but he did not reply. After the testimony had been taken the judge promptly discharged the prisoner, and severely reprimanded the crestfallen foreman. The sheriff and judge also concurred in stating that if I cared to charge him with assault with intent to kill I had a clear case, but I declined ; I had by this time had all the bother I wanted. And so ended my exciting introduction to the town of San Carlos.

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A VORACIOUS PIKE. Wb fishing last autumn on one ot the Norfolk Broads I left a small keep-net out at night on the broad with one or two fairly large roach in it. On coming in the morning I was surprised to find a baby pike, only a few inches long, caught in the mesh in his frantic efforts to attack and eat the roach (twice its size) in the net. The tiny pike was in every detail as perfect as a monster of twenty pounds, and, allowing for size, seemed quite as fierce.—MR. A. VEREY, IN “‘ THR STRAND MAGAZINE.” RUGBY IN MAORILAND. REVIOUS to the kick-off the two teams treated one anothet to Aakas of defiance. At three o’clock the game started ; at half-past four—no sooner—it ended in the victory of Tumunui by a goal and a try to a single try! Early in the game a Whirinaki three-quarter was carried off the field, but his side promptly equalized matters by injuring the Tumunui wing- forward so seriously that he, too, was forced to retire. Owing to a series of miracles there were no more than a dozen other minor misha The game was very rough, but no player seemed to lose more than a reasonable amount of temper.—‘‘ THE CAPTAIN.” ‘ WHAT WOMEN EXPLORERS HAVE DONE. OR twelve years Miss Constance Gordon-Cumming wandered over the earth from the ‘‘ granite crags of California” to the ‘ fire-fountains of Hawaii,” climb- ing in the Himalayas, and penetrating into the heart of China and Tibet. Miss H. M. Kingsley explored the Cameroon regions, and made herself quite at home among fierce gorillas and fiercer cannibals. Lady Baker, who was the first European to sight Albert Nyanza, thought nothing of walking into the tent of an Arab slaver and fetching out the captives; while Miss Jane Moir, Mrs. Bishop, Mrs. Marshall, and others also occupy honoured places as explorers.—‘‘ WOMAN'S LIFE.” THE KAISER AS A MODEL EMPLOYER. T is popularly supposed that all industrial ‘ kings” come from America; but Europe can still boast a few records, and amongst them is the production of real, genuine business monarchs. For instance, the Kaiser is the proprietor of a most important porcelain factory at Cadinen, and, as might be expected, he does not delegate the duties to others. The general conduct of the estab- lishment is based on the Kaiser's own rules. He engages employes himself, and even goes so far as to design some of the wares sent out from the factory. As befitting one of his rank His Majesty is a model employer, and sees to the comforts of his men, providing them with cottages and pensions, besides giving them a share in the profits, the latter being estimated at ten thousand pounds a year. —“ TIT-BITS.” HYDRANGEAS IN MADEIRA. a es accompanying photograph is sent to ‘Country Life” by a correspondent, who says: ‘‘ Anyone coming to Madeira in July or August, and having time to explore the Wooded hills and ravines above Funchal, will not quickly forget the masses of wild blue hydrangea Hortensis, It’ grows in hedges, often eight fect or nine but gradually change from blue to electric green and red in the autumn.”

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Odds and Ends. A Sacred Bridge—The Beggar ‘“‘ King ’—What a Flood Did, etc., etc. HREE summers ago there was great lamentation throughout Japan when rey Pp | it became known that a sudden AAS | freshet that turned the Nikko torrent into a devastating flood had swept away one of the glories of the country, the wonder- ful “ Mi Hashi ” (Sacred Bridge). This graceful red arch thrown over the narrow chasm worn by the rushing Daiyagawa is familiar, even beyond Japan, through its countless presentments on kakemonos, prints, fans, porcelain, and even on towels. The Mi Hashi, it may be said here, does not lay claim to anything else but beauty. Inasmuch as only the heir of the Shoguns, Prince Tokugawa, has a right to cross it, and the barriers that close the entrance on either side are only removed on the rare occasions of. his visits and on great temple festivals, it may be described as an object of art, pure and simple. As such only it appears to the foreigner ; to the Japanese it is something more. The legend ea connected with it relates that on its site the prayer of the saint Shodo Shonin was answered, and an angel appeared who threw two rain- bow - coloured serpents across the chasm, upon which the good man crossed in safety. The miraculous serpent bridge vanished forth- with; so, for the convenience of those who desired to follow in the footsteps of Shodo Shonin and ascend the sacred mountain beyond, a bridge of wood was erected by one Tai Foo, as far back as 806. . Ever since, it is his descendants who have the privilege of keeping the bridge in repair, or of rebuilding it entirely when necessary. In the exquisite form familiar in pictures, the bridge was first put up in 1638, and it is the present representative of Tai Foo’s family who was entrusted with the task of reproducing it exactly as it has been since that time. To the foreign onlooker who heard of the unlimited funds collected from all parts of Japan for the purpose, the COST CKATING THE SACRED KED LACQUER IRIDGE OF JAPAN, WHICH ONLY ONE, MAN HAS THE RIGHT TO) CROSS. From a Photo, by IMlustrations Rurcau,

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‘ ODDS AND ENDS. methods employed in the rebuilding operations appeared almost prehistoric in their primitive- ness. Bare hands and feet, devoid of any but the rudest implements, did all the work of removing the piles of boulders that blocked the current. What looked like huge squirrel-wheels were next installed, men playing the part of the squirrels, and the water was thereby bailed out of enclosures where the foundations of the new embankments were to go. Meanwhile other rustic labourers cut the great stones that serve as props in the mountain quarry, and brought them down the sacred cryptomeria avenue on rude handcarts, with pulleys at every turn of the road to prevent the load from getting beyond control. It may have been just as well that the pre- liminaries were so long-drawn-out, for much time is needed for the production of good, weather- resisting lacquer. Layer after layer was applied to each separate part of the .wood of which the bridge was to con- sist; and each layer had to be ground down to a smooth surface before the next could be put on. It may be said here that the colour is not that of shin- ing sealing-wax, as some people sup- pose, but a deeper shade of red with a dull surface. When everything was in readiness for putting the pieces together the bridge was shrouded from the public eye by curtains of matting, and behind these, for another twelve months, finishing touches were administered. Not till August was the work ready for conse- cration. Between showers on the morning of the 5th of August the ceremony took place. The Tai Foo of to-day led the way to the centre of the arch. In his pontifical robes an old priest advanced to the same place, waving in From a) A STUDY IN STATURE—THE MAN IN THE MIDDLE IS THIRTY-FIVE YEARS OLD. 517 his hand a wand tipped with a tassel, with which he lightly touched the bridge in many places. He bowed low toward the stream on the right and on the left, addressing it and apparently casting something into the water. Then other priests went through a slow cere- mony of presenting trays of offerings to the spirit of Ieyasu, the great Shogun who selected Nikko for his mausoleum. Lastly, the sacred pony was brought forth from his pretty stable and, amid shakings of the tasselled wand over his head and strew- ings of grass at his feet, was led over the bridge. These picturesque pro- ceedings were over all too soon, and only a few foreigners were fortunate enough to be on the spot and witness the picturesque scene shown in our photograph. Here is a curious little group photo- graphed by an officer of the Indian Army. “On the left,” he writes, “is a boy of six ; on the right a Sepoy of the 6th Infantry, Hyde- rabad Contingent. In the middle is a little person who is probably the small- est man in His Majesty’s service. He is a well-built fellow about thirty- five years old, and is forty - eight and a half inches high. He is a road overseer in the Public Works Department of the Berars.” Situated at the extreme end of the great sand- stone ridge known locally as Kinver Edge, in Derbyshire, overlooking the valley of the Stour, is a huge isolated boulder known as the Holy Austin Rock. At numerous places along the Edge rock-dwellings are to be found, as previously described in THE W1DE Wor Lp. Most of these are, however, now uninhabited. The Holy Austin Rock is literally honeycombed with these ancient dwellings, of which three “storeys,” as they may be termed, are still (Photograph. 1

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518 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. inhabited. Upon the third, or top, storey is one of the most curious stables in England. Here the pony shown in our photograph has lived for many years. Indeed, he has become quite a local celebrity, travelling into Stourbridge every week to fetch provisions for the cave-dwellers. In order to reach his stable he has to be led along a narrow ledge cut in the face of the rock. A false step upon this pathway would hurl the animal to certain death down the precipitous sides of this inland Gibraltar, but he is very sure- footed, and no doubt prefers his warm, dry, rock-hewn home to a more prosaic—and damp —shelter of brick or wood. Begging is a vocation in China, and beggary an institution. In every province there is an organized beggars’ trade union or guild—in some districts several. These guilds have presidents and officials, and are in every ‘THR MOST CURIOUS STABLE IN ENGLAND, From a Photo. by Clarke & Hyde. A CHINESE BEGGAR ‘KING. From a Photo, by Underwood & Underwood. respect thoroughly well organ- ized. There is a membership fee of about four dollars, and all members swear to abide by the rules. The chiefs, or “kings,” as they are called, are under the protection of the magistrates, and their power is considerable. Sometimes they are called in to assist the law by acting as watchmen over certain streets, having great authority over the more unscrupu- lous members of their fraternity. Our photograph shows one of these curious beggar “kings,” at Loong Wah, China. He was a perfect study in raggedness, and was inordinately proud of his costume. =

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Sas cam | | Of water placed near them for drink- ing. The bigger of the two, how- u | : ODDS AND. ENDS, 519 CREAT TREE THE HAVOC WROUGHT BY FLOOD IN AFWICA— HAS BEEN UPKOOTED AND SWEFT BUDILY AWAY UPSIDE DOWN, From a Photograph. The photograph given above depicts in impressive fashion the hayoc wrought by floods in Africa. Concerning it a reader writes as follows: “The upturned tree seen in the picture originally grew in the jungle that fringes the River Benue, in Northern Nigeria, but during one of the disastrous floods that periodically visit the stream it was uprooted and swept bodily away until it finally came to rest in the position shown. During the next rainy season it will become a dangerous ‘snag’ and a constant menace to navigation.” From Saltern, Australia, a correspondent writes: “One hot day the two dogs seen in the accompanying photo. were tied up in the garden under a small tree, and a bucket THR DOG ON THE LEFT WAS HOT, SO HE SAT IN THK WATER-BUCKET ALL DAY, MUCH TO HIS THIKSTY COMPANION’S DISGUST. From a Photograph. ever, preferred sitting in it, and stayed in it all day, much to the other's dis- gust. I have seen dogs in hot weather lie in troughs and place their feet in anything containing water, but never before have I known one to spend the day in a bucket in this decidedly uncomfortable position.” Most people have heard of the famous mango tree conjuring trick performed by Oriental jugglers. The following picture shows the last stage of the trick, as exhibited in a garden in Calcutta. The woman in the back- ground is the conjurer ; the others are her assistants. She first placed in THE WONDERFUL INDIAN MANGO TRICK. From a Photograph. the ground a seed from the mango tree. Over this she erected a tripod of sticks, covering the sides with a white cloth. On pulling up the cloth after a short time a green shoot was seen growing where the seed was planted. This was watered and the cloth let down again. When it was next pulled up the green shoot had shot up into a little tree. This operation was re- peated three or four times, till at last a com- plete tree in miniature was growing there. Then the native servants, watching with terri- fied eyes, fled pell-mell, calling out that the woman was a witch. Many explanations have been advanced as to how this ingenious trick is performed, but so far as is known the conjurers still keep their secret. Diitized b Google

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520 THE TOM BLUE, A TEXAN NEGRO, WHO IS SAID TO RE A HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN YEARS OLD, AND CAN STILL THREAD A NEEDLE! From a Photograph. WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Concerning our next photograph, Mr. R. Bruce Wood, deputy clerk of Harris County, Texas, writes: “This is Tom Blue, an old negro, who has attained the great age of one hundred and sixteen years. Tom is undoubtedly the age stated. He was born in Pennsylvania in 1791. From there he drifted to Kentucky, whence he ran away, as a slave, about the year 1832, and reached Texas. In 1834 he became the body -servant of General Sam Houston (the ‘ Father of Texas’), was with the General at the famous Battle of San Jacinto on 21st April, 1836, where his master was wounded in his great battle against the Mexican General, Santa Anna, and remained with him through his many ups and downs until his death. Tom is a pensioner of Harris County, and each month he comes to the county seat (Houston) and draws his pension of ten dollars. He has all his faculties, and is as active as many a man of sixty. It is surprising, though true, that he can thread a needle—a feat I saw him perform one day in August last, when he told me he felt like living another fifty years. He never wears glasses, and mends his own clothes. Like many ‘old time’ slaves, he was never taught to read and write, yet quotes intelligently passages of Scripture. He is a regular attendant at his church, and is very much respected in the cammunity in which he lives—Harrisburg, Harris County, Texas.” ADRIFT IN A RUNAWAY AimsHIP f si Mcouaiccoat Ce 3 SHEAT Russian Fam on" More Queer Fixes AN ILL-STARRED _ INVENTION e “A Texan. Lentepariag rf Lieging A City »,/ AUTOBIOGRAPHY Tite MADNESS oF Don PaTRicto § oF A BRIGAND THE MAP-CONTENTS OF “THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE,” WHICH SHOWS AT A GILANCE THE LOCALITY OF EACH ARTICLE AND NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURE IN THIS NUMBER

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ea eR yl a FI a aT Ry cee

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“THEY FOUND ME, AXE IN HAND, STANDING UPON A SOLITARY BOULDER.” (SEE PAGE 526.)

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THE WIDE: WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XX. APRIL, 1908, No. 120, The Man-Eater of Malyal. By THomas H. Tripp. The author—who personally visited the scene of this graphically-told story and investigated the details—writes as follows: ‘The incidents composing the appended account are true and accurately narrated. Malyal is a large village about a hundred miles from Secunderabad, in the Deccan, situated in the midst of immense forests. The events occurred some three years ago, and the man-eater, during the ten weeks he was known to the village, accounted for no fewer than forty persons!” For sheer dramatic interest the final slaying of the tiger by the widow of his last victim would be hard to surpass. EFLECTING the tinted light of early evening lay Malyal Lake, its broad bosom rippled into glittering silver with every wandering wind, while drooping sedges mingled with sombre forest in a mist of tremulous sunshine. ’Twixt the lake and the village (which straggles inland from the eastern shore) runs the dund—a high, shrub-grown embankment. Hereabouts are hundreds of palm trees, with feathery sum- mits nodding above the forest, and many a tiny hamlet hidden below, wherein dwell those who care for, whilst they rob, the slender, swaying giants. At the lake-side nearest the village the scene was one of animation that May afternoon ; for there some thirty women were busy beating ies 2) \ sodden clothes clean against the smooth boulders ~ which dot the shallows. Presently one of these washerwomen, a buxom lass named Raju, straightened herself with a sigh of relief, and proceeded to wring out the sheet she had just cleansed. “Finished? You are indeed lucky to be finished so early,” said her companion ; “T have still two saris to wash to-day.” “T will return and help you, after I have spread this to dry,” replied Raju, good-naturedly. Unfolding the sheet, the girl waded ashore and picked her way among the clothes variegat- ing the bank towards a large bush, which seemed, by its position, to be a quicker drying- ground. Even as the sheet fluttered out over the bush Raju screamed, and turned to run to her startled companions. She had not traversed a yard, however, when a monstrous tiger leapt forth and hurled her headlong to earth. Yell after yell clove the air; the lake echoed with cries for succour, but in complete uncon- cern the tiger seized his victim, and retreated over the dud into the solitude beyond. Alarmed by the clamour, the men within Vol. xx.—66. earshot rushed down to the lake-side ; amongst these was one Rajana. “What is wrong?” he shouted, excitedly. “Who has been killed? My sister?” He slapped his forehead, beat his breast in frantic grief, and threw dirt over himself; then he darted up the embankment, wildly gesticulating. “Come, brothers! The murderer went this way,” he yelled. ‘It is not yet too late. Come!” Jostling, pushing, in indescribable confusion, the people followed him up the grass-crushed trail. A few yards into the forest and they stopped, crowding together with affrighted glances. Upon a thorny creeper was the victim’s sari, torn and blood-stained. For a moment they were disposed to talk, voicing their horror at the find, but Rajana, anxious to overtake the tiger before it was futile, incited them to continue without delay. Soon a crackle and snap of the dry under- growth ahead set their hearts a-fluttering with nervous expectation. “Keep close together!” each one whispered to his fellow. How were they armed, these brave ryots? Some gripped axes, others scythes ; a few carried slings. ‘Ihe women, as they followed, gathered conveniently large stones, and collected these in a fold of their clothes, in order that they might take a necessary part in the impending fray. The crackle and snapping ahead became a heavy, dragging sound, as the man-eater entered a small glade. “The slingers and women will stone the devil if he shows fight, whilst those with weapons must take him from all sides,” cried Rajana, breathlessly. For a brief space the glade was silent, save for the swish of the grass brushed aside by the tiger’s passage. Then, yelling, as much to encourage themselves as to intimidate the fugitive, the pursuers broke cover. With a defiant ‘‘woof,” the tiger swerved

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524 round, dropping his quarry. Over it he stood, showing great yellow fangs in a snarl of rage. Towards him, with an infernal din, the pursuit bore; but slowly, to avoid, if possible, a desperate and sanguinary affray. Not a pace had they advanced when the man-eater sent forth a grating warning, the forest becoming as if all life had ceased to be when the thunderous echoes of his defiance had crashed into silence. Quick to detect their nervousness, the brute THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “T should like to know for certain,” said Muthi, agog with curiosity. ‘Someone snake- bitten, I wonder ?” “Father, may I go and learn what the matter is?” he called to the occupant of a neighbouring platform. “Yes, and don’t be long,” added Pochi, also curious. In a trice Muthi was down the ladder leading to his platform and speeding along the path- “THE SPELL BROKEN, FROM ALL SIDES STONES SMOTE IIIM, THUDDING DOWN FROM FEAR-NERVED HANDS.” crouched forward, with ears laid back—a terrible sight. And the villagers stood motion- less, fascinated. And only in time did some- — one, with a yell, dash a stone at the brute. The spell broken, from all sides stones smote him, thudding down from fear-nerved hands. Meanwhile with upraised weapons the axe-men were encompassing him about. Overawed, the tiger turned, mauled a too-bold axe-man and another who interrupted his flight, and fled, leaving Raju where she lay—dead. “What has happened ?” mused Muthi, hear- ing sounds of lamentation and seeing people troop hastily out of the forest some distance away. He tip-toed on his manchan, endeavour- ing, over the intervening cultivation, to ascertain the reason for the unusual crowd. ways through the fields. He so directed his progress as to intercept the cortége before it was far advanced. “Who is dead? A tiger, did you say? How came it about?” Eagerly the lad questioned various people, securing graphic accounts of the tragedy by the lake and of the affray in the forest. It was almost dark when he left the sad Procession. Greatly perturbed by what he had heard, Muthi quickly longed to be once again upon his manchan, eight feet above the fast-darkening world, and within call of his father. With many an anxious glance and many an affrighted stop he ran his hardest. The black, ghostly trees, and the ruffled grain rustling ; a pallid sunbeam here, an uncertain shadow there ; the distant voices growing fainter,

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THE MAN-EATER OF MALYAL. 525 and the light wind soughing through the forest ; all made it uncanny wandering alone. And on an Indian night sounds fall from afar. Suddenly the boy heard something approaching him in a quick, stealthy run. Panic-stricken he fled, and somehow gained his manchan. Great though his need was, the lad could but sprawl, panting, over the platform. In the gloom below crouched the man-eater, collecting himself for the leap. Crash! The frail platform collapsed beneath an enormous weight. One choking cry startled the night, and all was silent. The tiger had secured his second victim ! As the last faint flush following upon sunset died away, and stars began to prick the blue vault of heaven, the forest grew dark and intensely quiet about a rocky fastness, standing forth grimly from its bed of sombre shadows. Here and there thorn bushes and cut branches, with every appearance of having gathered naturally, made black patches in the rustling grass about the boulders ; and within view of these was a plump heifer, lowing occasionally in distress at her position —a strange sight, in truth ! Slowly the moon at her full arose above the forest, sweeping whitely through the heavens. It moved aloft and passed over the hill, and soon the stars were fading in a gleam of still- distant dawn. The heifer ended her complaining, and the hush deepened into a Profound quietude. Bang! The echoes died away, and gradually silence settled again upon the forest. call sounded through the trees. Upon this lanterns were lighted and the gamekeepers cautiously drew in towards the heifer, who, unhurt, lowed joyfully at their approach. “One, two, three—myself—four. Where are the others?” inquired the jemadar, anxiously. “Hi! Ghous, Afzul Khan; Urray, Lutchmun! Where are you?” “Here; quick!” came an answering shout from an adjoining tree-top. Towards it, leaving the heifer unhappy at Later, a bugle- THE AUTHOR, MR. THOMAS H. TRIPP. From a Photograph. their departure, hurried carefully. “T saw the villain!” cried Ghous Mahomed, and proceeded to lower himself to earth. “You may see,” he resumed, breathlessly, “that this accursed tree slants ; moreover, that that branch "— indicating his late perch—“‘is by no means too high. Up the tree he came, as far as he could, and struck at me.” “What a devil! How did you escape?” “T was intent upon the ghara” (bait—z.e., the heifer). “If I had not heard his movements, which allowed me in time to throw up my legs, I should have been torn down.” “What effrontery! But where are Lutchmun and Afzul Khan?” Dread was evident upon everyone’s face. “Urray! They were in mahfo; can it be—— ?” Only too true, alas! Suitable trees being unavailable for all, Lutch- mun and Afzul Khan had elected to watch in mah‘o (breast - high ambuscades, contrived with cut branches and foliage). These unfor- tunate men had been loca- ted and slain by their crafty enemy. His first opponent accounted for, the tiger, becoming suspici- ous, must have continued his silent search for hidden enemies, and so‘come across the next. He had located a third, who, being just beyond reach, had escaped. With all due caution the gamekeepers emptied the mahtos of their dead, and returned towards where the heifer had been haltered, intending to encamp there till daybreak. No joyous gambolling greeted them, no murmurs of satisfaction at their return. Whilst they had been occupied elsewhere the man-eater had “killed” again! The heifer sprawled ‘grue- somely—partially eaten already ! the gamekeepers It was barely a month since that fateful afternoon when the man-eater first arrived at Malyal. How changed was life at the village! No one proceeded upon his business alone, if he might have the company of another; work in the fields lay neglected, and everyone hurried home to build protecting bonfires ere the setting sun reached the forest in the west. The cattle

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526 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. and other live stock grazed untended, for the herdsmen feared to enter the forest; and, in consequence, the loss from cattle - lifter and prowling panther was great. Fuel for the fires had to be procured, how- ever, and the wood-cutters plied their trade as usual, but with keen circumspection. They worked in threes and fours, haunted by the rustle of dead foliage and suspicious movement of the undergrowth, which ceased as with axes uplifted they swung round to face it. Later, Yenkaloo met with the man-eater, but escaped un- scathed. Let him tell his story of the encounter. “Our work accomplished, we would, for the journey home, divide into groups. That after- noon I was, by unlucky accident, in none of the parties; those in advance believed that I was following with another lot; these, that I had gone on ahead. And even the voices of my mates were not to be heard, when I returned to our daily camping-ground. ‘Terrified, I ran breathlessly after them. “Presently, deeming it advisable, since the noise of my haste would cover, till too late, all portentous sounds about me, I reduced my pace to a swift walk. Often I thought of shouting to the other wood-cutters, hoping to be heard. The fear, however, that the man-eater’s attention might be attracted to my plight pre- vented this. “That dreadful journey! Somehow I fancied that the brute was prowling within my neigh- bourhood. Yet I had almost made the journey without misadventure, when, as I came up with the boulders which lie at the junction of the cultivated land and the forest, I espied him ! “The light not being good, from a distance I thought him a buzzard settled in the grass. Coming nearer, I decided it was a dog, though “it immediately struck me as unlikely that a dog would be there, so far from the village. Fearful, I picked up a stone, and, having climbed on to the nearest boulder, flung the missile at him, with a loud ‘ Dhooth!? “Round he jumped, snarling—his back had been towards me—discovered me, and prepared to make me his victim. They say that I gave three distinct cries for help. I am unaware of having uttered one. “They heard me—the men of the last batch, whom I had almost overtaken—and sped to my succour. ‘They found me, axe in hand, stand- ing upon a solitary boulder. Below was the man-eater, squatted in the grass, awaiting nightfall.” Members of the rescue party informed me that Yenkaloo collapsed, unconscious, just as the man-eater retreated before superior force. Lucky Yenkaloo! .... Inside the huts it was unbearably close, for the night had turned sultry. So Atchi and his wife, Ninga, were sleeping out, like nearly every- one else in the village ; but even in the open it was so still that few slept before the cool, refresh- ing breezes of morn had tempered the heat. For quite a long time after he awoke, so gradual had been his return to consciousness, Atchi could not tell whether he was awake or asleep. With his back towards the other occupant of the charpoy he rested on his side, one arm brought crookedly over his throat and neck, the other in a more easy position. As he lay thus Atchi could see but little, and that straight before him. Above, the dark outline of the forest; beyond, a faint and evanescent gleam in the sky marked where the sickle-moon had cut through the silent tree-tops. Fanned gently by the breeze, the dying bonfire, which had been erected at the mouth of the thorn-walled passage, reddened the immediate darkness for a moment and then smouldered low. A complete hush had fallen upon the earth, with that blackness of the heavens which precedes dawn. Suddenly a thought that the dreaded man- eater might be near left Atchi cold with horror, his faculties numbed. But he grew slowly hopeful, recollecting that his hut stood in no solitary field, but well among the other buildings. Daring though the tiger had proved itself, surely it was not hardy enough to penetrate into the village. A faint noise smote his listening ears ; it came from within his hut—the low, tremulous moaning of a dog in mortal terror. Atchi shuddered in sympathy, but gratified himself with the knowledge that, for a dog to be so affected, it was not necessary that a tiger should be in the vicinity ; it might be a panther, or a leopard. And if it was either of these beasts—why, the dog alone would die. Whilst thus solacing his fears, the unhappy man felt—he dared not make certain—that the beast, whatever it was, had passed defween the cot and the hut, artd, entering the hut, had slain the dog; for the moaning ended abruptly with a curious choking sound, but the presence returned to obsess him. The woman, becoming subtly sensible of their peril, moved uneasily — but slept on. That his wife had turned on to her back, Atchi guessed from her movements. The deep breath- ing of the Slayer thrilled his ears, the fetid smell of it filled his nostrils. A silenced gasp at his side—a quiet, low sound. It ceased, and a subdued, throaty purr vibrated through the silence.

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THE MAN-EATER OF MALYAL. 527 The charpoy creaked and swayed heavily, it was dragged slightly away, and left—with Atchi alone upon it. ~ “What a fearful dream!” murmured Atchi, shivering into wakefulness. Day had broken beyond Malyal; the village was stirring with life. “It is late,” he yawned, sitting up. “Where is Ninga?” But what was this ? Blood upon the cover- lets, sprinkling and wrapping shade a dry leaf crushed, as if under the pressure of a soft but heavy footfall. Some- thing seemed to be moving stealthily in the undergrowth about the clearing. Awhile Syannah paused and scanned the earth. Seeing nothing suspicious, and’ en- couraged by the voices of his companions, he resumed the descent. But scarcely had he dropped half-a-dozen fathoms before he was up again, climbing splashing the crushed grass, trailing away from the charpoy. Blood and a dead dog in the hut—and Ninga missing ! Comprehending, with an awful shriek Atchi fled. “ Hurry! Syannah, we are waiting.” “T shall not be long,” replied _Syan- nah, impatiently, and prepared to scale the slender, rugged palm at whose wrinkled base he stood. hurriedly. In the grey obscu- rity below rose a low croaking of frogs — “ praying for rain,” as the natives say; and a deep hum of swarm- ing bees droned softly up through the still air. Night was falling fast. A stick snapped indistinctly across the little glade. “Whatever was that?” The toddy- men were startled, their knives leaped out of their girdles. With a large empty pot slung across his back, Syannah knot- * ted a length of rough coir around himself and the tree; then in graceful, halting, upward pulls he went aloft— through the darkening forest vegetation—higher and higher, and so to the feathery summit, an odd two hundred feet above the earth. Here the green bark of the palm had been incised to the sap, and pots tied to receive the outflowing liquid. Having steadied himself, Syannah pro- ceeded to empty these into the pot which he had carried aloft. Finding that an incision had become blocked, he drew a long, keen, curved knife from his leathern girdle and cut a fresh channel to the sap, to which he changed the pot ; then, heavily laden, he began the descent earthward. Ninety feet—seventy ; the shadows below were leaping up to embrace him; then sud- denly Syannah grew afraid. “How long he keeps us!” grumbled one of the men who were waiting for him. “He will soon be down,” replied another, pointing to Syannah as he hung to the palm, darkly silhouetted above the surrounding forest. There was a faint rustle on the edge of the little glade in which the waiting toddy-men stood ; where the grass quivered in deep, en- THE CROSS INDICATES THE HUT FROM WHICH THE MAN-EATER TOOK NINGA FROM HER HUSBAND'S SIDE—IT IS APPARENT THAT THE SITUA- TION OF THE HUT IS BY NO MEANS OUTLYING. From a Photograph, “ Hurry! Syannah,” they chorused, in nervous irritation at the delay. “What folly is this?” Syannah muttered to himself. “I am coming down!” he shouted, in reply, and hastened to complete his descent. Some grass-stems bent very slowly aside, and there was an almost noiseless treading of withered leaves. With infinite craft the brindled shape of the man-eater stole softly, slyly, out of the shadows, and stopped in the middle of a pace, listening, full of deep suspicion. A harsh, scraping sound was in the air to his right ; a sharp, gliding sound, which grew nearer and louder. The man-eater remained motion- less for a while, gazing intently upward in this direction. Then quickly, deliberately, he stepped towards that curious, meaning noise, passed behind a maze of interlacing creepers, and like a shade crept to the foot of the palm. Twelve feet from the ground, with growing dread—eight ; espying his peril, poor Syannah strove to pull himself out of danger. But the man-eater, reaching up, tore him down. One piercing yell, that sounded even to the ‘village, and those who waited for Syannah fled. Knives in hand they ran, keeping together for mutual safety. With sobs of terror checking

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528 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE, their breath, those grown men ran to the main encampment, a mile distant. Neighbours and relatives had come to mingle their lamentations with the young widow’s, and had departed ; it was long after midnight, but still Mysu sat outside of her hut, sorrowing. She stopped there until dawn. Then, stretching her stiffening limbs, Mysu stole away, and, avoiding such of her kind as were about, went forth dry-eyed into the morn. In her intense grief she had suddenly con- ceived a wild idea—the notion of seeking the glade wherein her beloved Syannah had been slain, and whence his murderer would not, she felt sure, depart if undisturbed. Thus, and without incurring the sin of suicide, the woman must have thought to follow her husband into the spirit world. But the way to the place was far and difficult ; so Mysu had waited patiently till now. : The track of creatures which wander by night criss-crossed the paths through the sendhibund which she took. Here, the deep and pointed slot of that great woodland stag, the sambar ; there, the rounder mark of a solitary forest boar, made as he went truculently to drink, A panther, too, had prowled towards the encamp- ment during the night, for his footprints overlay those left by the jungle-fowl, who drink before roosting. And once, for several yards, the woman walked over the deep square “ pugs” of the destroyer himself. Thus she came to the place of her bereavement. Now it so happened that the man-eater had, as Mysu approached the grove, interrupted his feasting in order to slake a great thirst at the nearest piece of water, which, owing to the various channels inter- secting the topo having = eae dried up, was to be found about three hundred yards away. What joy to Mysu to find her well - beloved still recognisable! True, that those familiar features had been distorted by an agonizing death, that the brown eyes: still glared affrightedly. But the face was the face | of Syannah ; and the widow closed its eyes with kisses — strove, by stroking the tear- MALVAL Host From a) ATTENTION. softened lineaments, to reduce their terrible expression. Seating herself at the foot of the palm, whence the body had not been removed, she drew the corpse into her arms, as tenderly as when life had animated it. Aroused suddenly from her lethargy by a sound, Mysu clasped the corpse tighter and prepared to die. So still was all around her that the lapping of the man-eater as he drank was distinctly audible. Presently he returned through the forest fringe—beautiful but fear- some to behold, with tinted sunbeams glint- ing on his glossy, golden coat—to complete a hasty meal. Mysu had resigned herself to the fate she had sought ; and, almost too late for its execution, another reckless, desperate idea pierced her grief-numbed brain. Hardly staying to contem- - plate her purpose, lest she should by its very immensity be unnerved, she snatched at the knife in her husband’s girdle, and, dragging up the corpse, half held it, half supported it, before her. Then she waited, her back set against the palm. Very cautiously the man-eater approached. This way and that he went silently, peering craftily from around a tree-trunk or through gapped foliage; well he scanned the tops of overlooking trees, suspecting these places from experience. At last he came out boldly alert, but confident that no peril was to be feared. z An over-ripe date fell noisily beside him, even as his fangs gripped at his “kill” to drag it down. Startled, the man-eater swung his head that way, offering his throat to the sword. Driven by a toil-strengthened arm, nerved by fearful hate, the keen, curved blade plunged up to the hilt, severing ‘| vein and artery in one dreadful wound. Round and round, pawing and mouthing at the deadly gash, in a fury of weakening rage the man - eater fought, the woods re- sounding with his agony. And con- cealed behind the palm his slayer watched, death and madness in her eyes. Thus died the man- eater of Malyal; thus* was Syannah avenged. RECEIVED (Photograph.

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The Ski-Sport in America. By AksEL H. HoLter, SECRETARY OF THE NATIONAL SKI ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA. Of late years the American public have become keenly interested in the exciting Norwegian winter sport of ski-ing. Clubs are springing up all over the Northern States, and very shortly it is hoped to send representatives to Europe to fight the Scandinavian champions upon their own ground. In this article a leading authority gives facts and figures, with some striking photographs, dealing with this latest phase of American sport. KIL-ING is to-day at the head of all winter sports in America, where the weather conditions are usually favourable. Everybody enjoys gliding swiftly along over the white-mantled country-side—up hill and down dale, through the silent woods, everywhere, and at any time, even by night, when torches light the way. The ski-sport, as it is commonly called, is not re- stricted to any one nationality, although it is, of course, of Norwegian origin. Native-born Americans, French, Irish, and other nationalities join hands with the Scandinavians, and it does one good to see how ladies, men, boys, and children crowd the hill-sides throughout the North-West on the bright winter days, sliding down single or double, some falling ‘all over themselves,” so to speak, in trying the steeper hills, while others manage to “stand” all the way down. Everybody is in the best of good- humour, enjoying themselves immensely, and all unite in saying there is no sport so glorious as ski-ing. It is remarkable in what a short time this sport has taken firm hold of the American people, and everything indicates that it is here to stay. Ski-ing was first introduced into the United States in 1886 by the well-known champions, Mikkel and Torjus Kemmestvedt, of Telemarken, Norway. These two splendid ski-runners, who practically introduced _ ski- jumping in Christiania a few years earlier, and who were considered the champions of Norway for some years, were the first to make the “jump” in the States, to the delight and wonderment of a vast crowd of Americans.’ 70) + Vol. xx.—-67. A Goud LEAF, (Photograph.

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530 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From place to place these sturdy brothers travelled, with several other noted Norwegian skiers, giving exhibitions in many cities, with the result that several ski-clubs were organized, and the sport began to flourish. Ski-jumping contests were held, long cross-country runs were arranged, and everything looked very promising for the future of ski-ing in America, when one fine day the Kemmestvedts departed, one for the old country and the other to take a home- they were at home, and steps were taken in 1900 to get together an organization. The old Red Wing Club, of which the Kemmestvedts had been members, furnished the first ski- jumpers at an exhibition held in the winter of 1900-1 at Ishpeming, Michigan. A club was soon organized in Michigan City, and then the ° fever began to spread again. The following winter found five clubs at work in Michigan, Wisconsin, and Minnesota. Inter-State tour- — [Ez From a) stead away up in the Northern woods. With the disappearance of these two men the sport languished and practically died out for the time being. Other ski-runners emigrated to the States from Norway, however, and it was not to be expected that this young blood should give up their national sport when the conditions for its enjoyment were almost as good in America as THIS STRIKING PICTURE GIVES SOME IDEA OF THE STREPNESS OF A TYPICAL, SKI-COURSE AND THE VAST CROWDS ATTRACTS! ALTHOUGH THE COMPETITOR HAS LEAPT WELL, HIS POSITION IS BAD. (Photograph. naments were held and thousands of excited people witnessed the jumping contests, all being delighted and soon developing a desire to become skiers themselves. A national organization was effected in 1904-5, when the first national championship contest was held, and from a beginning of five affiliated clubs no fewer than thirty are now enrolled, with a membership .of [nearly two

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THE SKI-SPORT IN AMERICA. 538 THE SKI-HILL AT ASHLAND, WISCONSIN, DURING A CHAMPIONSHIP MEETING. From a Photograph. thousand, while at least fifty minor clubs are in existence throughout the various States and in Canada. Tens of thousands of spectators each year witness the thrilling leaps, a good many of which measure well over the hundred-foot mark. Of all the tournaments held during the season, however, the National, at which the champion- ship is decided, attracts most attention. At the contest held last winter in Ashland, Wisconsin, no fewer than seventy ski-jumpers of national and international reputation participated, while at a junior contest nearly one hundred boys less than fifteen years of age tried for honours, From a) AN AMATEUR IN THE AIR. (Photograph.

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532 : THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. doing credit to themselves and the sport. This gives one an idea how popular the ski has become in a very few years. One of the photographs accompanying this article shows the Ashland Ski Hill during a tournament. It will be noticed that an inclined trestle has been built on the top to lengthen the slope, this being two hundred and sixty feet long and one hundred feet high at the rear end. among them is very keen, especially on account of the prizes, which are generally in cash, the first prize seldom being less than fifty dollars, and often one hundred, besides valuable trophies or medals, All participating skiers are boarded and otherwise entertained free of charge during the days of the tournaments by the clubs hold- ing the contests; and thus the more fortunate competitors can earn no little sum during a From a) Ample speed is gained down this trestle to produce jumps of up to a hundred and ten feet. The American record is held by Ole Mangseth, who cleared a hundred and four- teen feet last season at Red Wing, Minnesota. Jumps of a hundred to one hundred and ten feet are frequently made. Another striking illustration shows one of America’s finest ski- jumpers in the air, clearing ninety-eight feet in almost perfect style at one of the tournaments. Many Norwegian skiers of national reputation are now living in America, and competition A NINETY-EIGHT-FOOT LEAP, MADE !N ALMCS3f PERFECT STYLE. [Fhotograph. season, travelling around the whole circuit and attending the tournaments, of which from one to three are held every week from January rst to the beginning of March. As an illustration of how general is the use of skis in the North-West it may be stated that for this season one wholesale merchant alone has placed an order for about four thousand pairs of skis, while other merchants likewise dispose of large numbers. Great preparations have been made by the clubs for this season’s sport,and a new record

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From aj THE SKI-SPORT IN AMERICA. 533 A CURIOUS FOSITION. Le Aotugr apn. will undoubtedly be established. The world dreds of American towns to-day, the Great knows that America is never satisfied unless North-West will in a few years produce skiers records are established, and with the Americanizing of the ski-sport records are bound to follow. Long-distance runs have not as yet achieved much popularity, these being ap- parently too “tame” to interest the excitement- loving American public, but nevertheless such con- tests are held at each National Tournament, the lengths of the course being from nine to twenty miles. Medals only are awarded, no cash prizes being given in these events. While the Norwegian naturally holds the upper hand in the contests at the present day, there are many very promising American-born skiers growing up, and it will not be long before these will give the Northerners a close race for honours. To become a really good skier, one must literally gtow up with the sport, and, to judge by the activity of the youngsters in hun- From a) A BAD FALL COMING. (Phetogragh.

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534 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. COMPETITORS LINED UF FOR A LON equal to, if not surpassing, those of Norway, and the chances are that some day America will have representatives at the prominent Norwegian and Swedish tournaments. Good natural hills, curiously enough, are scarce in America, and trestles must in. most cases be built to lengthen the speed- course. These can be erected at a cost of ISTANCE CKOSS-COUNTRY RACE, (Photograph. from three to seven hundred dollars, and are permanent structures meant to endure for years. The Great National Tournament of the present season will be held in Duluth, Minnesota, and at the moment of writing it is expected that at least thirty thousand spectators will witness . the contests. A TYPICAL TRESTLE BUILT ON THE SUMMIT OF A HILL TO LENGTHEN THE SPEED-RAISING RUN, From a Photograph.

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The Autobiography of a Brigand. WRITTEN BY GIUSEPPE SALOMONE, OF BARRAFRANCA, SICILY, AND TRANSLATED AND EDITED BY FREDERIC LEES AND LILLY SCOTO. A human document unique in the history of brigandage—such is the description that can well be applied to the following story, which has been specially translated and edited for ‘The Wide World Magazine.” Apart from the fact that the distinctly picturesque Salomone found time, amidst the alarms that make up a great part of a brigand’s life, to write an account of the cause of his downfall, his life in prison, his revenge, and his escape into the woods, there is an additional interest in the following pages, owing, firstly, to the novel circumstances under which the MS. of this unique autobiography came into the hands of its editors; and, secondly, because of their description of its author’s romantic capture—a sequel which he little thought would so soon have to be added to the story of his adventures. ORTY days after my liberation and return to Barrafranca our family was thrown into a state of the direst poverty. My father and my sisters were in tatters, my brothers were barefooted, and I possessed neither a bed on which to lie nora chair on which to sit. For food we depended upon charity. One morning my father and I decided that we would pay a.visit to my old enemy, the “Horseless Knight.” On reaching the house we found that he was in his cellar. informed that two men wished to sce him, he came partly up the steps, with his cap on his head, and said :— ‘ “What do you want? You can say what you’ve got to say here.” “Not if I know it,” I replied, from the entrance to the cellar. ‘“There’s room for eavesdroppers down there. Come along, father; we'll return home.” We were just turning on our heels to leave the house when the mayor, in a testy voice, exclaimed :— “Very well, then; I’ll come up and see you.” He slowly mounted the steps. On reaching the top and seeing me, he said :— “Ah, if you only knew how I suffer! I’ve been languishing for eighteen months.” “ Heaven has sent you these sufferings,” I replied, promptly, “to punish you for certain sins that you have on your conscience.” Without another word we entered one of the sitting-rooms, where the first thing that I saw was a plentiful supply of cigars. My father and I sat down opposite each other; the mayor selected a sofa-chair with sloping back and soft cushions, into which he sank luxuriously. On being | “Well, Salomone,” he said, settling himself comfortably, “what is it you want?” “Nothing,” said I. “I have come to pay yon a visit, since you told my brother that you were too ill to come to see me. However, I’ve not come to ask about your health. I’ve got my own to look after; yours does not interest me in the slightest. I’ve come to show you that I’m still alive—and free. You thought that you could drive me from the country, but I’m still here. One thing only I want to know from you. What harm have I ever done you? And why did you ruin our family and my youth?” “ You are entirely in error, my dear Salomone,” be answered ; “entirely in error, I assure you. It was the de/egato (detective) and not, I who gave information about you.” “What!” I exclaimed, indignantly. ‘ You have the audacity to deny the truth and to accuse a de/egato? It was you and no other who, with your own hand, wrote the certificate stating that ‘Giuseppe Salomone d’Angelo is a young man of abominable conduct, capable of committing any crime.’” He replied not a word, so I continued :— “But you not only did that ; on March sth, the day of my trial, you telegraphed to the President of the Court to say that I was a dangerous character, a cunning highwayman, whom it would be folly to set free. Now, I ask you once more: what harm have either I or my poor family ever done you?” But still the ‘“ Horseless Knight” said nothing. “Do you think that the evil one does can be kept secret ?” I went on. “No, no; everything comes out in time.. I know everything that you did in your. office with your cursed pen. I know

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536 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. that you are the cause of all the misery that I and my family have had to bear. And I know, also, that you will not be long in receiving your reward.” Watching me closely, and perceiving that the storm was about to break, he at last decided to speak. He began with words of encourage- ment :— “Do not doubt, Salomone, that I shall aid you to everything you need. I'll get you a situation in a workshop, or, if you like to go to America, I’ll procure- you a ticket and the necessary papers.” Suddenly, feeling my blood begin to boil at this treacherous pretence of friendship, I rose and, followed by my father, swiftly left the house. People in the streets stared at me in astonish- ment as I rushed along, looking neither to the right nor left and with my teeth clenched angrily. My fixed idea now was to kill the ‘“ Horseless Knight.” Thoughts of revenge kept me awake at night, and I found myself saying, “ You will be a coward, Salo- mone, if you do not avenge your mother and “Qh, to talk the matter over, that’s all.” I consented, and we went off together. Arriving at the commander’s, we found that he had guests. The principal room of the house was full. “What is the matter, Ignazio?” asked the mayor, as his nephew's figure appeared in the doorway. “Nothing, uncle. I’ve only brought you Master Peppuzzo, so that you can give him a little lecture.” The commander rose, took a lighted candle, and showed us_ into another room, where the three of us held the fol- lowing conversation :— Ignazio: “I learnt, zio, that Master Peppe, here, had been speaking ill of you. That is why I have brought him to you.” The Commander: “I cannot believe that Salo- mone would do that. This is the work of male- volent folk who would do ill both to him and to me. Is it not so, Salomone?” Myself: “What I had to say to you I have already said. If there is anything else to be said, yourself. If you do not kill him, you will go mad, and they will then take you to an asylum.” The “Horseless Knight,” after this first interview, evidently became uneasy, for he took various steps to avoid the danger that was hang- ing over him. Thus, when several weeks had slipped by and we were well into 1905, he sent his nephew to see me on the subject of certain words that I had hastily spoken. The man, who belonged to the detective department, arrived at our house in the evening, and, calling me outside, said :— “You must excuse me, Salomone, for asking you the question, but I should like to know if it is true that you have been saying things against my uncle?” “Certainly it is,” answered I. -“ Cht mal fa mal aspetta! (He who has done evil must expect evil !)” “Well, now,” said the guardia, whose name was Ignazio, “if you don’t see any objection, ‘et us go to my uncle’s.” “What for?” THE ‘‘ HORSELESS KNIGHT,” WHO WAS SHOT DOWN BY GUISEPrE SALOMONE, From a Photograph. _ L alone know it, and it is not the place of others to interpret my thoughts.” The Commander: “You are not aware, perhaps, that my revolver is ever ready to my hand? I have quieted hun- dreds of brigands with it. Those who could frighten me are not yet born, and won't be, either -—no, not until I’ve been dead a fortnight.” He delivered these words slowly and meaningly. anaes Myself: “If you were surrounded with scores of cannon I should nevertheless find a means of getting to you. At the present time, however, I am thinking of something else, and I would see this comedy at an end.” The Commander: “No, no, Salomone ; don’t you make any mistake. J have thought of every- thing.” He spoke sardonically, and 1 wondered what he meant. All the next day I mused over his words— “T have thought of everything.” “Oh,” said I, “he has thought of everything, has he? We shall see about that !”

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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BRIGAND. 537 A few days later a friend whom I met in the street said to me :— “Keep a sharp look-out, Salomone. The commander is preparing for you the betrayal that he formerly prepared for Michele Brizzi.* I give you the hint in confidence.” I had already noticed that certain of the commander’s adherents no longer spoke to me, and that their faces changed colour when we met. Moreover, men were to be seen prowling about our house at night, and I feared to sleep. I thought at first of firing upon them, but finally decided to wait for a better opportunity. It was evident, however, that there was no time to be lost. On June 14th, 1905, I remained indoors all day. At eight o’clock in the evening I took a stroll in the direction in which the commander generally went, but could see him nowhere. I discovered, however, that a sigario (hired assassin) was standing outside his house door; and I had formerly observed that when this door was ajar the commander was out, but that when it was closed he was at home. On this occasion the door was partly open, so I proceeded onward. My heart beat furiously as I thought of his menacing words: “ My revolver is ever ready to my hand. Those who could frighten me are not yet born.” “T'll let him see,” said I to myself, “if I’m not capable of making him frightened.” I found him, with his back turned towards me, sitting outside a ca/é. “How quiet he is,” I muttered. “It does not trouble him in the least, because, through him, hundreds of honest fellows weep their eyes out every holy day. He eats and sleeps and enjoys Rimself. But his end is near !” I went home for my weapons and, returning, put myself on guard. Next door to the Colombo distillery, where he was still sitting, stood a boot-maker’s, the shop of Giunto Carmelo, one of my friends. He and his wife were at the door, so I went to talk to them, and the latter having offered me some brustolito seeds I sat down with them to eat. Alessandro Aiello, the gwardia, and two or three other friends soon. joined us and began to talk. But I paid little attention to the conversation, all my thoughts being centred on the project in hand. I had made up my mind that there was no other remedy for my troubles than the death of the “ Horseless Knight.” Presently he left the café accompanied by a friend, and as he passed amongst the customers many of his partisans rose and obsequiously saluted him. I moved not an inch, but when * Awell-known Italian brigand, who is believed to have murdered Count Palmieri.—F. L. ‘and Le s. Vol. xx.— 68. he had got near the Falzone distillery I took out my watch and exclaimed :— “Dear me, how late it is getting! I must be off home.” “Yes,” said the guardia. early than too late.” “Signori,” said I, rising. “ La buona sera.” “ Good night !” they chorused. I crossed a little courtyard, and saw that my enemy was ten yards away. I got my revolver ready, and was about to fire when somebody passing said :— “ Buona sera, comrade |!” “Good night, signore !” I responded. 1 pretended to walk on, saying to myself :— “The wretch is not worthy of being shot in the breast ; that would be honouring him too much. Rather does he deserve a bullet in his back.” So I let him pass me. When he had got some distance up the street he stopped to look at a trench which was being made there. Almost opposite him stood an altar to the Holy Virgin, whom he had ever neglected to honour. He was a long way from me, and as I raised my weapon it was with the firm determination not to miss. I knew that if I did so his revolver, “ever ready to his hand,” would respond to mine. Carefully I aimed and pulled the trigger, and as the smoke cleared away I saw that my hand had not betrayed me. Though shot through the heart, however, he did not fall at once. He tried to speak, and for an instant remained standing. I ran towards him, with the intention of firing a second shot if he did not fall, and at the same moment the sigario rushed towards me, shouting, but took to his heels on seeing my weapon. Not until then did the “ Horseless Knight” fall to the ground, stone dead. A moment later and I had disappeared. Then there began for me a new life amongst the hills and forests of the province of Caltanis- setta—a life full of constant alarms and perils. Whither I went and where I am now hiding concerns only myself. To disclose those details would be playing too much into the hands of those who seek me. But one gets used to everything in time— even to being hunted by the carabiniers, who, let me tell you, show a lack of intelligence that is positively ludicrous. I have not much respect, either, for their courage. How many times have I not met the cara- biniers in plain clothes and, after passing a “Good day ” to them, received their salutations. Not one of them imagined for a single moment that I was Giuseppe Salomone. I have met, too, sergeants (and»carabiniers on horseback, “Better be too

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538 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “CAREFULLY I AIMED AND PULLED THE TRIGGER.” with their loaded rifles ready for instant use, and never been recognised. Nay, on one occasion, at Catania, I held a long conversation with a delegato (who doubtless had a warrant for my arrest in his pocket), and shook him cordially by the hand when we said good-bye. He was a right pleasant fellow, full of talents that were wasted in the Government service. Finally, I have lost all count of the times that I have had dinner in the best restaurants in the towns and villages of the province. Yes, reader, you have read aright; I have actually dined side by side with prominent members of the police, and yet have never been even suspected ! : I have a fondness for playing such little tricks as these, for I firmly believe that the tree on which I am to be hanged has not yet grown. However, I may still have trouble with the carabiniers, and it is rather a puzzling point with me as to what in that case I ought to do. T hesitate, as I have said before, to shoot them.

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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BRIGAND. 539 But should they, some day or other, surprise me in the maguts, what else can I do in self- defence? * And now, before concluding this auto biography — which I may tell you has been written twice, my first manuscript, deposited in the hands of an uncle at Barrafranca, having been destroyed by him after my flight—let me say a few words to the various classes of society who will read it. To you, citizens, I would say this. Have a kind thought, now and then, for the brigand Salomone, who has so far committed but a single crime, and that out of revenge—a just revenge. To you, gentlemen of the jury and the court, I would make the following appeal: If, some day, I should be called upon to serve my time, recollect that you are my debtors to the extent of more than three thousand six hundred and fifty days ; recollect that for three thousand six hundred and fifty days and nights I was unjustly deprived of liberty; recollect that during ten harvests I languished in those horrible Italian penitentiaries ; recollect that for more than ten years I was robbed of happiness and health ; recollect that ten times, through prison bars, I saw the beautiful trees spring into life and lose their leaves again ; recollect all these injustices, and then repair, as far as lies in your power, my sufferings and my tears. GIUSEPPE SALOMONE. On the arrival at Caltanissetta of Giuseppe Salomone’s remarkably convincing autobio- graphy, there was a mighty fluttering in the dovecots of the Sicilian detective department. Despatch after despatch flashed across the wires between the head-quarters in Palermo and the various branches in the centre and south of the island; and a consequent movement of cara- biniers, evidently carrying out some carefully arranged plan of campaign, was noticed in the districts of Butera, Terranova, Niscemi, Riesi, Barrafranca, Piazza, and Pietraperzia. The fact that the brigand had sent his manuscript to Signore Lilly Scoto from Terranova, and certain other information which had come to their ears through secret channels, convinced the authorities that Salomone was to be found somewhere in those parts, and possibly in company with other outlaws, for whom they had also been vainly seeking during the past eighteen months. But, though the carabiniers scoured the “country for weeks, not a sign could they dis- cover of our literary brigand. Early on the morning of April 23rd—some seven weeks after Salomone had posted his autobiography—the Milocca brigade of cara- biniers, which had been given the special duty of keeping an eye on a brigand named Ventura, set off for the Passarello district, where they had reason to believe their man was in hiding. On reaching their destination they found, indeed, that Ventura and an accomplice named Ardisi had taken refuge in a large house in the hamlet belonging to Cavaliere Pietro Di Benedetto, the Mayor of Riesi. Both were arrested, without a shot being fired. ‘ Whilst this was being done by one half of the brigade the other was in pursuit of a third and unknown man, who had come to the rescue of his comrades. Called upon to stop and surrender, he replied with a bullet, and con- tinued his headlong course. But not for many “yards, for he suddenly tripped over a stone and fell heavily to the ground. In an instant the carabiniers were upon him. After being disarmed—and the brigand, in addition to a powerful field-glass, was found to possess a first-class rifle, a Mauser pistol, an American revolver, and a plentiful supply of ammunition —he was at once taken, independ- ently of the other prisoners, to Riesi. The other half of the brigade, with Ventura and Ardisi, arrived shortly afterwards. Hardly had Ventura set eyes on his unknown comrade when, to the great surprise of the carabiniers, he suddenly started back and exclaimed :— “Salomone!” The astonishment of Brigadier Caldarera and his men may easily be imagined on it being explained that they had not the slightest idea that the famous brigand had fallen into their hands. Not one of them had ever seen Salomone before, and the official description of his appearance accorded so little with that of the real man that they had at first great difficulty in believing that this tall, strongly-built gtovane, with pointed, light-coloured beard and moustache, was really the redoubtable bandit who had given them so much trouble and anxiety since the assassination of Commander Giordano Glorying in the victory that pure chance and not intelligence had given them, they took advantage of their position to make certain ironical and distinctly ungenerous remarks to their heavily-chained prisoner. “You are quite right,” replied Giuseppe Salomone, in the quiet, modest manner that is habitual to him. ‘“ You have indeed got me at last! But it would be a bad lookout for the man who captured me if these chains were not weighing me down. Suppose you remove them for a few minutes, and let us face each other like men?”

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540 THE WIDE WORLD’ MAGAZINE. ‘“‘ME SUDDENLY TRIPPED OVER A STONE AND PELL HEAVILY TO THE GROUND.” But the victors’ only reply was a further addition to his shackles. Salomone’s removal from Riesi to Caltanis- setta, and thence to Palermo.— where he awaits his trial, which will last, it is estimated, for at least seventy days—was more of a triumphal march than anything else. In the opinion of the majority of people in his native place, he was formerly, whatever he may be now, innocent of any crime save that —a very benign one—of belonging to the Societa del Fascio. On his return from prison they regarded him, therefore, as almost a popular hero, and there can be no doubt that, even after shooting the man whom he calls the “ Horseless Knight ”—than which there is no more opprobrious term in the mouth of a Sicilian—he was whole-heartedly admired and frequently screened from the soldiery. Thus, as he passed from place to place on his way to prison, thousands of peasants and workers in the sulphur mines flocked to see him, and not a few of these honest, hard-working folk, touched by the sight of the mild and distinguished-look- ing prisoner, gave him kindly greeting and soft Italian words of encouragement. THE EnpD

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Sensational Prison Escapes. in Russia. By JAAKOFF PRELOOKER, Author of “ Heroes and Heroines of Russia,” etc. In this absorbing article the well-known Russian author and lecturer narrates some remarkable instances of daring escapes made by “ politicals ” from carefully-guarded fortresses and jails. Some of the episodes described would seem incredible were they not authenticated by the annals of the police authorities themselves. T is safe to say that the criminal annals of no other country contain so many daring and ingenious prison J escapes as those of Russia, and this, of course, for several good Firstly, the prison population of the reasons, Muscovite Empire contains an enormous per- centage of political offenders, and with “politicals ” the longing for liberty and the personal Tesourcefulness, courage, and daring of the captives are greater than in common criminals. Secondly, politi- cal prisoners always have numerous friends outside willing and frequently able to assist their escape, even at the risk of being caught and imprisoned themselves in case of failure. Thirdly, amongst the prison officials and warders themselves, or the daily-changing military guard, there are some who, in their innermost hearts, sympathize with the cause for which “politicals” are suffering, and are prepared to look “skvoz paltsi” (through the fingers), as the Russian saying goes, on their escapades. Fourthly, society at large applauds every escape of “politicals,” and would even hide them instead of handing them over to official “justice,” which, in Russia, does not enjoy popular support. A few actual cases of sensational escapes will amply illustrate the above statements, and at the same time give WipE Wor Lp readers some insight into the idiosyncrasies of the Russians and their institutions. I have avoided all literary embellishments, and have simply given From a) MLLE, SOPHIE PEROVSKAYA, A FAMOUS REVOLU- TIONIST WHO WAS FIRST ARRESTED AT THE AGE OF SEVENTEEN, the plain historical facts of the episodes described. : I. Propas.y the simplest, and at the same time most characteristic, escape ever effected by an important political prisoner, through the inexcusable stupidity and negligence of the guardians, was that of the famous Mlle. Sophie Perovskaya, who, after her escape, became the organizer of the assassination of Alex- ander II. on March 13th, 1881. She belonged to the highest Russian aristocracy, her father having been for several years Governor General of St. Petersburg. Exceedingly intelligent and kind-hearted, but of an iron will and most energetic, she ran away from home at the age of sixteen, and soon joined the revolutionary movement, taking part in the most daring attempts to liberate political prisoners. At the age of seventeen she was arrested herself, but through the influence of highly - placed friends she was liberated by the personal order of Alexander II. Con- tinuing her propaganda, she was again arrested in 1878 in Southern Russia, and this time exiled to the Arctic regions. On the journey to the North she had several opportunities of escaping, but the gend- armes who accompanied her were such good fellows and were so kind to her, allowing her certain liberties and comforts, that she conscien- tiously objected to running away from them, as they, of course, would be tried and severely punished for carelessness and neglect. During the journey, however, she<was handed over to (Photograph.

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542 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “SOPHIE SIMPLY STEPPED ACROSS THE SLFEPING GUARD.” two other gendarmes, who proved real watch- dogs, and treated her most severely, in accord- ance with their instructions. Sophie was now free from conscientious scruples, and looked out for an opportunity of escaping. The party had to stay the night at Chudoff railway station, and the two gendarmes slept in the same room with their prisoner, one of them accommodating himself at the window and the other stretching himself out on the floor at the door. Sophie lay on a wooden seat, and, pre- tending to be fast asleep, began to snore. The gendarmes, convinced that everything was right, soon fell asleep too, and began to snore in all earnestness. Sophie then gently rose and tried the door, which she found to be without a lock or bolt and opening outwards! The stupid gendarmes evidently thought the door opened inwards and did not even trouble to try it. Sophie simply stepped across the sleeping guard, and in a moment she was free. She was afraid to buy a ticket at the office, lest the cashier might afterwards give some information about her, but managed to slip into the next train for St. Petersburg, paying the conductor for her journey. All the time the gendarmes continued to snore, and when they awoke Sophie was already beyond their reach. After the assassination of Alexander II., when St. Petersburg was turned into a military camp and more than eight hundred people were arrested within the first two days in the capital alone, Mlle. Perovskaya, with reckless courage, would not consent to the entreaties of her friends to leave the dangerous city, and continued her propaganda, driving about in an open droshky until she was recognised and arrested on the Nevski Prospect, this time to expiate her deed with her own life, as she was hanged along with the other regicides on April 15th, 1881. IL. SIMPLE, easy, and yet very ingenious was the first escape of the famous revolutionist, Leo

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SENSATIONAL PRISON Deutsch, whose record of repeated arrests and escapes is probably without parallel, and, so far, without conclusion, as he is still living and con- tinuing to work most energetically in the cause of the Russian revolutionists. Deutsch was first arrested in Kieff, while serving as a volunteer in a local regiment. Now in Russia, where many things politically and otherwise are literally upside down, a so-called “volunteer” does of mean one who freely and voluntarily joins the army, as compulsory con- scription is universal and nobody has a choice in the matter. All young men, on reaching the age of twenty-one, must appear at the recruiting office and draw a lot. A certain number of recruits are levied from each district, and those who have drawn high lots may not be wanted to actually join the army, and are left in the reserve to be called out when wanted. University men and those who have finished their education in Government middle schools have . the privilege of not drawing the lot, but of voluntarily joining the army, in which case their actual service with the colours is reduced to three or six months respectively ; otherwise, . if enlisted in the army by drawing the- lot, their actual service would last the ordinary number of years. This is what Russian law, in a fear- some-looking word, terms “volnoopredieliay’:o- shtcheesia ”— te, one preferring voluntarily to serve only six months rather than to run the tisk of drawing the lot and having to serve three years. ‘These so-called “ volun- teers” enjoy better treatment whilst in the army, as their education is usually superior to that of the commanding Officers, and they would ESCAPES IN RUSSIA. 543 Luryé. For all these transgressions Deutsch was arrested, and committed for trial by court- martial. Serious consequences evidently awaited him, and he therefore decided to attempt to escape. The only possible way to accomplish this was through the medium of a bath! Here I must make another explanation. A Russian bath is a_ historical and national institution in the land of the Czar. The in- sanitary conditions of Russian dwelling-houses, their overcrowding, the keeping of the windows hermetically shut during the long winter, the sheep skins, fur coats, and other clothing, seldom changed, and various other conditions, make the frequent use of the public bath impera- tive. This is resorted to religiously once a week, and the heat employed is such as would probably kill an Englishman on the spot. High and low, rich and poor alike cannot exist without it; the charges for admission commence at a halfpenny. Such a national, almost sacred, institution has the Russian bath become that it is said one of the clues which helped to prove that the “False Demetrius,” sitting on the throne of Russia in the beginning of the seventeenth century, was not a Russian by birth was his disregard for the bath. The need of the bath is so great, indeed, and the institution is so rever- ently kept up by the nation at large, that even the same authority which thinks nothing of freez- ing, starving, and knout- ing its prisoners, and refusing them correspond- ence or interviews with their relatives or friends, will never refuse their demand to have a bath. As a matter'of fact, practically all Russian prisons of any size have their own bathing estab- lishments attached to not submit resignedly to kicks, blows, or insults, as does the helpless and forlorn recruit from the ranks of the illiterate peasantry or working classes. Deutsch, for instance, objected to an officer addressing him with the derogatory “thou” instead of the polite “you,” and answered the insult with the- same insult; moreover, he absented himself without leave for five days from the barracks, aiding in the escape of a political prisoner, LEO DEUTSCH, WHOSE RECOKD OF ESCAPES AND AKRESTS IS PROBABLY WITHOUT A PARALLEL, From a Photo, by Bazin, them, and where this is not the case the prisoners are sent even to the public bath—of course, under escort of guards. This is almost the only bright side of the Russian prison system, bringing periodic comfort and relief to the unhappy inmates. The reader will now better understand and appreciate the episode of Mr. Deutsch’s escape. F He was incarcerated in the military prison, which had no premises of its own, but was

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544 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. located in a hired private house on the Bibi- koff Boulevard, Kicff—a thing also peculiarly Russian. This prison had no bath attached to it, and the arrested soldiers were taken to the bath of the general prison, situated almost opposite. Deutsch, however, demanded to be taken to a general public bath, pretending he did not want to mix with common criminals. The officer on duty refused, and suggested that Deutsch should apply for permission to a higher authority. This Deutsch declined to do, know- ing well enough that such permission would not be granted. However, another officer, who was the regimental bursar, supported Deutsch’'s application. And here I must give another detail, also peculiarly Russian. food, and the regimental bursar was not averse to increase his own scanty income by supplying the meals from his own private kitchen, charging for them rather exorbitant prices. Deutsch paid without a murmur, so he was looked upon as a man of means, not to be despised. Thus it came about that the gallant defender of the throne, Church, fatherland, law, and order interceded with his brother officer on behalf of a Nihilist, the avowed enemy of all these sacred objects. He argued with the officer in command of the military prison that “Deutsch is not a common soldier, but a ‘volunteer’ of the second class, who has to serve only six months; surely he would not think of escaping, charged as he was only with the infringement of miltary discipline.” Evidently neither of the officers was aware of the prisoner’s more serious political offences. ‘The upshot of it all was that Deutsch was at last allowed to go to the general public bath, but three soldiers were sent with him instead of the usual two, and they received the strictest injunctions to keep a most vigilant eye upon their charge. Upon arriving at the bath two soldiers took up positions at the only two windows of the establishment, whilst the third stood at the door inside. Escape seemed utterly impossible, as all the exits were guarded, and everyone leaving the establishment, by whatever opening, must pass one of the soldiers. Deutsch undressed and handed over his clothing and a purse with some money to the soldier watching inside. It was in the middle of February, and so bitter a frost prevailed outside that there could be no question of anyone leaving the bath naked. The soldier inside thus felt quite safe about his prisoner, holding his clothing as he did. However, on entering the hot room, Deutsch found there a comrade with whom the plan of escape had been settled before. The latter had brought Deutsch ordered his own ° with him into the hot room a bundle of ordinary civilian clothing, in which Deutsch dressed at once, and with an assured air walked out of the premises without any challenge. The soldier had seen the prisoner only in his military uniform, and did not now recognise him in a civilian’s clothes. Deutsch had, besides, over his head, the bashlyik (hood) so much used in Russia, and this article no doubt largely helped the transformation. Outside the building he had to pass one of the soldiers watching at the window, but he, too, paid no attention to the private gentleman leaving the bath. Once in the street, another comrade met him with a carriage, in which both immediately drove away. The poor soldiers waited a long time for the appearance of the bather. Finally, getting alarmed, they informed the authorities of the escape, which nobody at the time could explain. The chimney passage was examined, but it was . found to be utterly impossible as a means of escape. Only long afterwards did it dawn upon the officials that the prisoner must have somehow passed his guards disguised and unrecognised. IIL Tuis escape took place in February, 1876, and henceforth Deutsch was compelled to commence the life of an “illegal” subject—ze., one hiding his own name and identity, using false passports, hunted everywhere by the police, and liable to be captured at any moment. However, in the autumn of 1877 Deutsch was again captured and arrested in connection with the organization of three thousand peasants for revolutionary purposes. He was again con- fined in the Kieff prison, where his comrades in the same affair, Stefanovitch and Bohanovsky, had also been lodged. At the beginning of 1878 all three escaped from the prison in a manner probably un- paralleled. A_ revolutionist, one Frolenko, managed to penetrate into the prison as a work- man, under the name of “ Michael,” to do some odd jobs. ‘ Michael” did his work and con- ducted himself generally so well that soon the governor of the prison offered him the post of warder in the department of common criminals. Here, too, he discharged his duties so con- scientiously and intelligently that implicit trust was placed in him by the prison authorities, who soon transferred him to the department of the “‘politicals.”” Here “Michael” took, of course, the greatest care to avert any suspicion of his complicity in a plot for the escape of his comrades, which he, nevertheless, was arranging all the time with the minutest care and fore- sight. Outside, the arrangements were in the hands of the famous revolutionist, Ossinsky,

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SENSATIONAL HYPOLYTE MUISHKIN, WHO RISKED HIS LIFE AND LIBERTY TO RESCUE A FRIEND FROM SIDERIA. From a Photograph. afterwards captured and executed. He had a boat in readiness on the River Dnieper, filled with provisions, and supplied his four comrades with warders’ uniforms, in order that they might let themselves out of the premises, and with private clothes in which to travel afterwards. On the appointed night “ Michael” unlocked their cells after everybody had gone to sleep, and let them out. As Fate would have it, one of them stumbled and fell in the dark corridor. In his fall he caught at a rope, which was nothing else than that of the alarm-bell! A tremendous sound rang instantly through the whole building, and for the moment it seemed that the plan of escape was doomed. But “Michael” did not lose his presence of mind at this perilous moment, and calmly explained to the other warders, who awoke from their sleep, that he himself had accidentally: raised the alarm, and that everything was all right. So much authority had “Michael” secured for himself by this time that no more notice was taken of the occurrence. A little later, when everybody was asleep again, “Michael” con- ducted his comrades, themselves now disguised as warders, to the prison gate, where the doorkeeper let them all out without the slightest remark. Outside, Ossinsky, disguised in the uniform of a military officer, awaited them, ready to exercise “official” influence in case any untoward incidents happened. Once at large they betook themselves to the boat, and for a whole week they sailed undetected on the broad Dnieper, until finally the same Ossinsky supplied them with money and false passports, Vol. xx.—69. PRISON ESCAPES IN RUSSIA. 545 and they were able to move about the country more or less freely. IV. A RECORD of indomitable courage, persever- ance, and repeated escapes and arrests is that of the hero-martyr Hypolyte Muishkin, whose tragic career of devotion and self-sacrifice evoked the admiration, if not the sympathy, even of his captors and tormentors. As quite a young man he was the first to learn the system of Russian shorthand writing invented by a Russian general, by whom. Muishkin was taken to the Winter Palace to: demonstrate before Czar Alexander II. the: capabilities of the new invention. The latter _ was so pleased with Muishkin’s work that he personally ordered twenty-five roubles to be: given to him as a reward and encouragement. But neither the honour of being in the presence of the Czar nor his personal favour made Muishkin a friend of the Autocracy. He was soon appointed Government stenographer and started his own printing works in Moscow. The publications issued were authorized by the censorship, but before long Muishkin, carried away by the reform movement, began to issue clandestinely unauthorized literature for the people. The police had their suspicions, made a raid upon the premises, and discovered huge bales of “seditious” literature ready for dispatch. All the workpeople were arrested there and then, but Muishkin, who was at the NICHOLAS TCHERNISHEVSKY, WHOM MUISHKIN ASSISTED From a\ “TOVESCAPE. (Photograph.

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546 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. time absent from the building, was informed of the raid and thus escaped arrest. ‘This happened in July, 1874. He now became an outlaw, and resolved on a desperate plan to liberate from prison the famous novelist and political economist, Nicholas Tchernishevsky, who since 1862 had been kept in confinement in the little town of Villinsk, in the wildest part of North-Eastern Siberia. chief. Muishkin, realizing that his mission had failed, offered to go himself to Yakutsk for the desired order, but Zhirkoff now said that he could not let him go such a distance without an escort of two Cossacks. ‘This meant practically an arrest, but Muishkin had no choice and consented. Z The two powerful Cossacks kept the strictest watch over Muishkin during the journey, which THE PRISON OF VILLINSK, IN NORTH-EASTERN SIBERIA, WHERE TCHERNISHRVSKY WAS INCARCERATED. From a Sketch, Muishkin’s plan was to disguise himself as a gendarme officer and forge Government orders authorizing him to transfer Tchernishevsky to a new place of confinement. Having well matured his plan he set out for Siberia, and finally reached Irkutsk. Here he managed to get into the service of the political gendarmerie, and in the course of a few months familiarized himself with the ways of secret official correspondence. He then concocted an order in the name of the Governor of Irkutsk to the Governor of Villinsk, Captain Zhirkoff, instructing the latter to hand over Tchernishevsky -to ‘ Meshtcherinoff ” (Muishkin’s assumed name) for transmission to the prison of Blagoveshtchensk on the Amur. However, on the journey Muishkin met with the assistant head of the police of Villinsk, to whom he was indiscreet enough to tell of his missian. The official got suspicious of “ Meshtcherinoff,” chiefly because he travelled quite alone, without a Cossack convoy, which ordinarily accompanies a Government emissary in those wild regions, especially on such an important mission. Other things also strength- ened his suspicions, and Captain Zhirkoff, informed beforehand, told Muishkin on his arrival that he must have an order from General Tchernyaeff, Governor of Yakutsk, his direct was made on horseback, and he realized that if he was to attempt an escape it must be done before they reached Yakutsk, where, of course, he would be imprisoned at once. Accordingly, at a favourable moment and spot, Muishkin dashed into the depth of the forest they were passing. He was immediately pursued by the Cossacks, who fired at him several times, but missed their aim. One Cossack continued the pursuit, but Muishkin, turning round, fired and wounded him, and finally made his escape. Muishkin’s position, alone in the wilderness, amidst alt kinds of beasts of prey, is easier to imagine than to describe. During the day it was warm enough, but at night the damp and cold were bitter, though it was in the height of the summer season. As soon as the Cossacks returned to Villinsk Captain Zhirkoff organized a tremendous od/ava, or hunting expedition, in which he engaged not only all the soldiers at his command, but also numbers of the savage natives, promising a big reward to anyone who would capture the fugitive and bring him in, alive or dead. Muishkin was finally found more dead than alive from hunger, cold, and exhaustion. The Central Government ordered him to be sent back to European Russia, and he was subse- of

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SENSATIONAL PRISON quently incarcerated in the grim fortress of Peter and Paul, there to await his trial. Vv. MUISHKIN was condemned to ten years’ penal servitude, with deprivation of all civil rights. A further series of attempts to escape followed, of which the most noteworthy and sensational was that ‘practically accomplished from the Kara political prison in Siberia. At first he and his comrades started to dig a tunnel under the walls of the prison, but it soon filled with water owing to the marshy ground, ' and the work had to be abandoned. Then another desperate enterprise was under- taken and successfully carried through. The prison consisted of several separate buildings, amongst which there was a small workshop quite close to the stockade, of high, sharpened logs, which formed the outside en- closure surrounding the whole prison. The con- victs laboured in the workshop, preparing various articles, and could walk freely during the day in the court- yard. After supper they were all shut up in their cells, an officer passing from door to door and looking into the dimly- lighted rooms to ascer- tain whether all the convicts were in their places. The plan of escape consisted in hiding in the workshop after finishing work, then, during the night, climbing on to the roof, from there reaching the stockade, and descending on the other side. The difficulties in the way were enormous. Firstly, the sharp-pointed logs of the stockade were far higher than the roof of the workshop. Secondly, at the four corners outside the prison and at the gate there were five sentry-boxes, each occupied day and night by an armed soldier. Thirdly, and this was the most difficult of all obstacles, the absence of the hiding convicts would immedi- ately be noticed by the officer during his evening THE “STONE BAG" IN WHICH MUISHKIN WAS IMPRISONED. - From a Photograph. ESCAPES IN RUSSIA. 547 examination of the cells. Moreover, the senti- nels on duty were frequently changed, and there were people moving about the courtyard even during the night. Under all these conditions it would seem hardly conceivable that an escape could be achieved, and yet it is a fact that not only Muishkin, but seven other of his fellow- prisoners, managed to liberate themselves in the way described. Dummies were placed on the sleeping platforms to deceive the eye of the officer, and the greatest precautions were taken to avoid the slightest noise in climbing up and down the walls. By @ommon consent it was arranged that Muishkin and _ one Khrushtsheff should be the first to make the attempt, and they suc- cessfully carried it through. Then three other couples followed. One man of the last couple, however, un- fortunately fell heavily to the ground outside the prison, or, as some say, into a pool of water, and thus attrac- ted the attention of one of the sentinels. The latter fired at the fugitive, but in the darkness of the night missed his aim. The report of firearms at once gave the alarm, and when it was dis- covered that no fewer than eight of the most dangerous political offenders had made good their escape, the fury of the prison authorities can well be imagined. The intention of the fugitives was to make their way towards the Pacific and there to embark on some vessel bound for America. It is needless to say that the whole of Eastern Siberia was aroused immediately after the event. Full descriptions of the fugitives were wired everywhere, their photographs were sent to the police- officers, and search parties were organized on a tremendous scale. Orders were ‘issued to arrest all travellers, or even inhabitants of towns and villages whose, passports or per-

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THE WIDE “THE SENTINEL FIRED AT THR FUGI sonalities awakened the slightest suspicion. The forests in all parts of the vast Trans-Baikal Province were scoured by numerous natives, who were stimulated to help the police by promises of big rewards. No wild beast was ever hunted with such ferocity as these poor Russians, who in any other civilized country would have enjoyed universal esteem and affection. It seemed as if the safety of the whole Russian Empire depended upon the recapture of this handful of University students, and the Government decided that no effort and no expense should be spared in carrying out this object. The escape of the ‘eight convicts took place during April, 1882, at a time when the cold in WORLD MAGAZINE. BUT IN THE DARKNESS OF THE NIGHT MISSED HIS AIM.” that part of the world is still intense. Under all the circumstances the marvel is, not that the Government gradually recaptured all the eight fugitives, but that some of them managed to cover hundreds of miles before they were re-arrested. Muishkin and Khrushtsheff, the first couple to escape, made, indeed, a journey of more than two thousand miles, actually reached the sea-coast, and were arrested only in Vladivostock just when they were on the point of starting for more hospitable shores. Muishkin and some other comrades classed as “most dangerous” were soon sent back to European Russia and incarcerated in one of the “stone bags” of the terrible fortress of Schlusselburg. Here our hero lived until the

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SENSATIONAL PRISON autumn of 1885, unutterably weary of life and praying in vain to be killed or to be allowed to kill himself. He at last got the opportunity’ of striking the governor of the fortress in the face, an offence which this time finally brought the dread favour he sought, for he was promptly court-martialled and shot within the precincts of the gloomy fortress. VI. THE sensational, clever trick of a swindler in Germany, who quite recently, disguised as a military captain, ordered a detachment of soldiers to arrest the Mayor of Koepenick, near Berlin, whilst he himself appropriated the money from the town treasury, has its counter- ESCAPES IN RUSSIA. 549 important, being accused of various attempts, successful and otherwise, on the lives of police, military, and other officials. They were all to be tried by court-martial, and were nearly all certain to be sentenced to death. Their friends, who had sworn to save them if possible, knew that the smallest untoward incident, the slightest hitch in the carrying out of their plan, spelt failure, and that failure meant death to them as well as to their imprisoned comrades. But the plan was as perfect as plan could be— and it succeeded. The prison administration was made to be- lieve that the military Governor of Warsaw desired the transfer of the ten prisoners from the Paviak to the citadel. A telephone message, From a) part in a similar audacious hoax perpetrated in the spring of 1906 in Russian Poland, which resulted in the liberation of ten important “politicals ” from an almost certain death. Warsaw has a famous prison popularly called Paviak, from one of its four surrounding streets. Originally intended for the ordinary criminal, it is now used largely as a place of detention for “politicals.” Paviak is encompassed by a very high wall, and is strongly guarded by military as well as by warders carrying both sword and revolver. An iron discipline is maintained ; interviews between prisoners and their friends are only allowed under the most exceptional cir- cumstances. In short, if there ever was a prison from which escape seemed hopeless, it is Paviak. In April the place contained a large number of political prisoners, among whom ten were most THE TERRIBLE FORTRESS OF SCHLUSSKLBURG, WHERE MUISHKIN WAS FINALLY SHOT, (Photograph, purporting to come from the chief of the city police, further advised the prison governor that the prisoners would be conveyed to the fortress under escort of an officer of gendarmes, who would bring his own guard. The messages were taken in good faith and the ten “ politicals” were prepared for the transfer. According to the regulations, however, no prisoner can be handed over without the written and sealed official order of the head of the police or the military governor. This document, too, was duly and adequately prepared, and one evening a man in the uniform of a gendarme officer appeared at the Paviak and handed over to the officer on duty an official missive ordering the transfer of the ten “ politicals,” each of them being duly mentioned by name and described in the document.

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550 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE, There was in the whole thing nothing to arouse suspicion. The prisoners were sent for, and the gendarme officer meanwhile sat down in the office and coolly lighted a cigarette. He had brought six policemen with him, so there there met by a police escort on horseback. Then, bidding his men keep a vigilant eye on the prisoners, he took his departure. It was quite dark, and the prison van was driving down the deserted Zhitnaia Street when the coach THE PAVIAK PRISON AT WARSAW, FROM WHICH TEN IMPORTANT PRISONERS WERE RESCUED From a) seemed to be no necessity for providing the prison conveyance with another escort, and the only prison servant sent with the party was the coachman. The gendarme, before starting, duly certified in writing that the ten prisoners had been delivered into his charge, and then watched how they were placed in the carriage. Two of the policemen seated themselves on the box by the coachman, the others were behind. In a few minutes the heavy prison gates were swung open and the vehicle drove out, leaving ten empty cells in the Paviak. Presently the gendarme directed the coachman to drive first of all to the police-station instead of the fortress, alleging that the convoy would be IN A REMARKABLY AUDACIOUS MANNER. (Photograph. man’s hands were suddenly seized from one side while a rag soaked in chloroform was stuffed into his mouth from the other. ... Next morning he was found insrde the conveyance, still under the effects of the chloroform ; the horses were tied toa tree, and round about were lying prison clothing, uniforms, and swords— all that remained of the ten prisoners and their escort. Warsaw, which was at the time under military law, soon learned the exciting news, which filled everyone with wonder at the daring achieve- ment. The authorities were at once up in arms, but all their efforts to discover the culprits proved of no avail.

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How °a rancher’s daughter, separated from her lover by a harsh parental decree, rode seven hundred miles over trackless mountains to join her sweetheart, with her father and his men in hot pursuit. The plucky girl won the unique ELOPEMENT. By J. O. Greco. race by a narrow margin, after undergoing all sorts of hard- ships. The father, arriving just after the wedding had taken place, provided a fitting ending to the romance by for. giving the happy pair and taking them back home with him. MRS. FANNY MCFARLAND. EVEN hundred miles of mountain f as ial infested by wild beasts, un- ieee [iW bridged streams swollen by sprin ae | floods, and an almost uninhabited "wilderness were traversed by Mrs. Fanny McFarland—to call her by her present name—while escaping from an irate father to join her waiting lover in Lewistown, Montana. From her earliest childhood Mrs. McFarland had been accustomed to ride the wild, almost unbroken cayuses (Indian horses) on her father’s ranches in the Big Horn Basin, Wyoming, not far from Cody, the home of “ Buffalo Bill,” of Wild West Show fame. So great was her skill in the management of these fiery brutes, which often successfully defy those wonderful riders of the Western plains known locally as “ bronco- busters,” that Colonel W. F. Cody (“ Buffalo Bill”) on several occasions fnade advances to her parents for permission to display her mar- vellous horsewomanship in the United States and Europe, offering a large salary and pledging himself that she should come to no harm. No inducements, however, were sufficient to win the consent of either her parents or herself to the exhibition of the winsome little maid to the eyes of an admiring public. Fanny con- sidered such a display unwomanly, although she was naturally proud of her accomplishments and her reputation of being the best rider in the State of Wyoming. There was still another reason for the unyield- ing refusal of the parents of the brave girl who so skilfully rode the ranges, winning both the envy and admiration of the numerous cowboys employed on her father’s ranches and those adjoining. One of these men—McFarland, a handsome young Scotsman, newly arrived at aa [ees man’s estate, and not a large cattle-owner, then or prospectively — paid court to Fanny. He was received with blushing cheeks and sparkling eyes by the girl, but with frowns and unfriendly words by her parents, who had other and different plans for her future. Their disap- proval, however, proved ineffectual to prevent the meeting of the young people, who, defying the commands of their elders, clandestinely con- tinued their trysts, until more drastic measures resulted in McFarland being refused employ- ment by the irate rancher and his neighbours. Faced with the prospect of starvation, the young fellow was reluctantly compelled to.pack up his things and leave the district, which was exactly the result Fanny’s father had hoped for when he organized the “ freeze-out.” When McFarland again secured a job it was at Lewistown, Montana, seven hundred miles from the home of his lady-love, and he was separated from her by a sparsely-settled wilder- ness, intersected: by lofty mountains, rushing watercourses, avalanches of melting snow, and broken rocks, involving extreme jeopardy of life or limb to those so reckless as to venture into the region during the spring months. In the opinion of the parents of the girl, no further obstacles remained between them and the consummation of their plans, and the frowns upon their faces gave place to smiles of satisfac- tion at their apparent success. 3 A few months passed ; the girl, who had first been despondent at the loss of her lover, became more cheerful, and as the long winter months merged into spring her spirits began to improve. Noting the change in her demeanour, her father and mother frequently exchanged sage remarks between themselves to the effect that

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552 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. boy-and-girl love was of but brief duration, and that Fanny would some day marry a wealthy man with a good home and be happy. May approached ; the warm sunshine had long, since removed the snow from the lowlands, and grass and flowers were beautifying the hillsides, when one morning the old people received a rude shock. Their daughter was missing ! 5 She had that morning ridden from her home astride one of the wildest, most . unmanage- able, but most enduring of the saddle cayuses* belonging to her father’s ranch, and had gone towards the mountains west of her home. Fanny had been in the habit of riding out every day, so at first little was thought of her absence. When, however, hour after hour passed, the day began to wane, and still she had not returned, her parents became alarmed lest she had ridden into some snow-hidden coulée, or had been thrown and injured by the vicious animal she was riding. A search was hastily instituted, but darkness intervened, and it was not until dawn next morning that Fanny’s father, accompanied by several of his “ cow-punchers,” all, well armed, rode from the ranch-house, spreading out in a fan-shaped formation, their experienced eyes scanning every ridge and depression for indica- tions of the missing girl or the horse she had been riding. Many miles were explored in this manner, but it was not until the sun had reached the meridian that an agreed-upon signal from one of the men announced an important discoyery. Tracks of the cayuse were found in the wet soil surrounding a pool at which the animal had stopped to quench his thirst; there was also evidence that the girl had dismounted while the horse was drinking and nibbling grass. She had then remounted, which indicated that neither was in any way injured. Careful examination failed to disclose the direction Fanny had taken subsequently, but the assurance that she was uninjured greatly lessened the perturbation of the searchers, and it was with lighter hearts that, as night approached, they again returned to the home ranch to relieve the anxiety of the mother and make prepara- tions for a more extended exploration of the Big Horn Basin as far as the base of the mountains. No one at that time imagined that the young girt would venture to cross the swollen streams or enter the mountain gorges—unsafe at any time, and absolutely dangerous while the snow was melting. ‘The ravines were filled bank-high with roaring torrents, and snow slid continually from overhanging precipices in thundering avalanches, carrying broken boulders and trees down the momentum. Fanny's parents and neighbours were now seriously alarmed. Some wiseacre suggested that she might have gone off to join McFarland, but this startling theory was at once scouted as absurd. Even if she knew the present whereabouts of her lover and contem- plated going to him, Lewistown, Montana, his new location, was north, not west of her father’s ranch. Moreover, they could not believe she would be so reckless as to attempt to cross the mountains to the west of Big Horn Basin at any season of the year, let alone in the spring. Fanny had never penetrated the main range of the Rockies in that direction. It was to her an unknown wilderness, into which she had frequently refused to travel even in company with her father and friends in the past, although urgently solicited to do so in the summer-time for the purpose of hunting and fishing. The dark, timber-covered mountain fastnesses had no attractions for her; she loved only the open plains and valleys about her home. And yet, though the searchers had dismissed the idea as ridiculous, this was exactly what Fanny was even then doing, hoping by taking a circuitous route to mislead her father and prevent a successful pursuit by him or his daring range- tiders as soon as she was missed at home. She had carefully provided food for herself and horse, and also carried her rifle, in the use of which she was as skilful as any of the men. She did not dream, however, of the numerous narrow escapes and thrilling adventures which she was to encounter. During the days spent in wandering in the dark mountain forests among broken rocks and dripping snow-banks she had often to cross streams swollen into torrents by the melting ice. -When she finally surmounted alt obstacles and reached an isolated ranch-house near the head-water of the Madison River, in South-Western Montana, both she and her horse were greatly exhausted. At this place she begged rest and warm food, explaining that she had become lost, and required rest for herself and cayuse before proceeding to her home, farther down the valley. ‘Two or three days of rest and comfort pre- pared her for the saddle again, and, bidding good-bye to her kindly host and his wife, Fanny proceeded on her way, which was now directly north, her intention being to cross the Belt Range by the Bozeman Pass, a well-traveled: route, both easy and safe. . From this point she did not so carefully avoid settlers, but selected those least likely to have heard of her escapade, or of the search which was probably now being made for her over in mountain-sides by its resistless

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A REMARKABLE ELOPEMENT, informed everyone with whom she conversed that she was a rancher’s daughter who had lost her way, she carefully avoided Conveying to any of her hearers any intimation as to the location of her home. By Her expectations in this respect were doomed to disappointment, for when she crossed the Northern Pacific Railway at Belgrade, in Gallatin County, she was informed that her father and others had been advised of her presence in the Madison Valley, and were even then in Bozeman, Preparing to extend their search in a direction that would ensure her detention when she attempted to cross the Belt Range through Bozeman Pass, they being now aware of her destination. This startling information would have caused some women to abandon the enterprise, but Fanny was made of Sterner stuff. At all costs she meant to win through to her lover, and so she changed her course to the north again and attempted a Crossing at Bridger's Pass, about twenty miles north of the route she had planned to take. This Bridger’s Pass was not SO easy, and was much less frequented on that account even in the summer. In the spring, when the snows were melting and obstructing the trail, it was not used at all. This change of plan took the courageous girl

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554 over a very lonely and difficult route, but in spite of the danger she was determined not to run the risk of capture by her father when but little more than a hundred miles from safety and the man she loved. Before again attempting to cross the moun- tains Fanny procured a liberal supply of stores in order that neither she nor her faithful mount would be forced to suffer for lack of food if detained by snow or other obstructions, or obliged to go into hiding through the closeness of the pursuit. Her horse had become thoroughly rested since crossing the main range of the Rockies west of her home, and seemed equal to almost any demand upon his endurance. With undaunted courage the girl turned her horse’s head towards the dangerous acclivity and began the mountain climb, alternately struggling through the swollen water-courses that crossed her pathway or plunging into drifted snow-banks, from which the animal’s great strength barely sufficed to extricate himself and his rider. The close of the tenth day of her wild ride for freedom and love found Fanny near the summit of the pass. Here, tired out, she resolved to rest. An overhanging ledge furnished shelter from any chance avalanche of snow and loose rocks, as well as from the wind, which here blew cold and piercing. Although without fuel for a fire, the resourceful girl secured comparative comfort by causing her horse to lie down and utilizing the warmth of his body to keep her from freezing during the long night. Her sleep was that of utter exhaustion, and was unbroken until, just as day began to break, she was roused by a roar which appeared to come from under the rocks in the rear of her resting-place. Springing to her feet in alarm, she discovered a large bear emerging from an opening she had not hitherto noticed, and coming directly towards her ! é The horse, also startled by the savage beast — which had evidently only recently roused himself from his winter’s nap in his den under the rocks —sprang away with a snort of fright, jerking the trail rope from Fanny’s hands. He would probably have escaped altogether had he not plunged into a snow-drift, which checked his progress until the girl was able to seize the rope again, She had dropped her rifle during the struggle to recapture the horse, but rapidly snatching it up she was able to fire several shots in rapid succession into the thick hide of the enraged bear before he reached her. Snarling with fury, the beast dashed at her, but luckily for her he, too, plunged into a snow-bank, delaying his progress for a sufficient time to enable Fanny to THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. spring into the saddle, extricate her cayuse from the drift, and escape towards the summit of the pass. The rest of the day passed uneventfully. A constant succession of snow-banks, gapidly melting into torrents, made the girl’s progress slow and exceedingly dangerous, but she passed the summit safely, and before nightfall found another halting-place under the rocky ledges, where both she and her horse rested without other disturbance than the intense cold of the night air at the high elevation. In the morning they resumed their downward course, the road improving with each mile of the rugged descent, and before night again overtook them Fanny found shelter in the cabin of a settler, not far from the eastern entrance of the pass. She rested until late the next day, and both she and the horse were fresh when she set out. The fugitive now proceeded very carefully, knowing that her father and his men were endeavouring to locate her. ‘They undoubtedly knew that she had attempted to cross at this point, and might be seeking to intercept her before she could reach the Shields River, where she planned to turn northward and, by a detour north of the Crazy Mountains, try to reach the Musselshell River if not again forced to change her course by those in pursuit. Stopping at an isolated ranch-house, she secured a further rest and food, took her host into her confidence, and asked his assistance, which was willingly given. About midnight she was roused and informed that her father was actually in the neighbourhood making inquiries, and that to escape him she must start at once. There were yet eighty miles between herself and her destination, and her host, sympathizing with the girl’s pluck and determination, not only gave information of the approach of her pur- suers, but furnished careful instructions for her guidance, suggesting that her safety required her to ride the entire distance without further stops. He added that he would ride to the nearest telegraph station, a few miles distant, and wire Mr. McFarland that she was coming, and that it would be necessary for him to act with the utmost haste if he wished to make her his bride, and not see her snatched away directly she reached his side. Gratefully thanking the kind- hearted rancher for his invaluable help, Fanny bade him farewell, and began the ride which was to convey her over the entire distance inter- vening between herself and her husband-to-be. Several hours’ start more than compensated for the greater freshness of the horses ridden by her pursuers, who found and followed her trail at great speed from an early hour next morning, - When the girl turned northward ;toward the

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CT OO OOOO OO OOOO re A REMARKABLE ELOPEMENT. 555 “THE HORSE SPRANG AWAY WITH A SNORT OF FRIGHT.” Judith Basin she was still many miles in advance of them, and she maintained the distance all day until, just as the sun was again nearing the western horizon, her weary eyes discerned a party of horsemen approaching along the road from the east, and evidently intending to inter- cept her. At first she was greatly frightened, thinking that by some means her father had succeeded in passing round her by some other route, and that all her privations had availed her nothing. It was a bitter blow to her hopes, and tears rose to her eyes as she strained her vision to identify the party ahead. But her face quickly lost its expression of tense anxiety and fright when she recognised among the advancing riders the familiar form of her lover. At her best speed she rode to meet him, and was soon informed that all present were her friends. Her sweetheart further added that he had duly received the kindly rancher’s warning message, and that a minister, marriage licence, and wedding were waiting for Fanny at Lewistown, but a few miles distant. Arrived at this place, the happy party were hastily taken to the home of a friend of McFarland, where, a few minutes later, Fanny and her lover were pronounced man and wife. Her father—who arrived post-haste shortly after- wards — behaved like a thorough sportsman. Learning that he had been fairly beaten in the chase and was too late to prevent the marriage of his daughter, he decided to make the best. of things. Having no objection to the young man - other than his poverty, he promptly extended his congratulations to the happy couple, and they just as promptly accepted his invitation to return and settle down onthe old ranch.

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The Natives of the “Never- Never.” By Watter E. Rorn, B.A. Oxon, M.R.C.S., L.R.C.P., ETC, ETC, LATE CutEF PROTECTOR . OF ABORIGINALS, QUEENSLAND. This important article, dealing with the little-known aboriginals of North Queensland and the Gulf of Carpentaria, is written by a distinguished ethnologist, who is probably of all men living the most qualified to speak authoritatively as to the strange manners and customs of the primitive inhabitants of the Australian wilderness. The information Dr. Roth gives and the photographs reproduced will be found of remarkable interest. HN view of the fact that my investiga- @ tions into the anthropology of the North Queensland natives cover a period of some twelve years (1894— 1906), during which time I was travelling more or less continually among them, I naturally find it somewhat difficult to condense into the pages of a magazine article all the information which might prove of interest to WipE Wor Lp readers. With the help, however, of some original photographs—taken, many of them, under very trying conditions—and telling the story of each, I hope to arouse the public interest in the manners and customs and condi- tions of life of one of the most primitive races at present existing on the surface of the globe. On certain of the islands in the Gulf of Car- pentaria it is extremely difficult to get into touch with the savages, whose past experiences have given them good cause to distrust the white man. On Bentinck Island, for could effect my purpose of inter- viewing them was by surrounding the whole camp early one morn- ing; but the result proved most unfortunate. The poor, frightened wretches — men, women, and children — dashed away in wild panic, and rushed through the sea on to the reef, whence, until forced by the rising tide, they would not venture ashore. An old woman, carrying a child pick- aback and supported by a stick, was the first to arrive. She is shown in the picture, while other natives will be observed in the far distance out in the water. Even when all the thirty-five or forty of them had at last ( plucked up sufficient courage to land, it was very difficult, even with the gift of food and articles instance, the only way in which I RRO IS SRR SEES é 2 % J, SEAM IE Eat wr Sora. of trade, to make these poor islanders under- stand that the intentions of their visitors were pacific. The rocky coast-line hereabouts is typical of many of these low-lying islands, and the rocks themselves have been put to economic use for ages past. Stretching around these shores are to be found dozens of semi-circular dams from two to four feet high, and from twenty to as much as fifty yards wide, all built of rocks of varying shapes and sizes, the whole naturally cemented together with the oysters that exist here in profusion. As the tide rises over the dam so the fish come in, to be left behind when it falls. By this simple yet very effective method of capture the natives secure all the fish they require. Where the natural dam method of fishing is impracticable, the folding net is as commonly used as any. Holding it one at each side, two Vs ON SIGHTING THR AUTHOR'S PARTY ONE TRIBE OF BLACKS RUSHED OUT INTO THE SKA ON TO A REEF—THIS WAS THE FIRST WOMAN To COME ASHORE; OTHER NATIVES CAN BE FAINTLY SEEN FARTHER OUT IN TIE WATER From a Photograph.

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THE NATIVES OF THE “ NEVER - NEVER.” 557 which he brings ABORIGINES FISHING—TWO MEN HOLD THE NRT WHILE THE THIRD DRIVES THE FISH INTO IT. From a Photograph. boys will wade into a lagoon in the direction of another lad who, as he advances, “treads” the bottom and splashes up the water, with the result that any fish, crab, or tortoise that may happen to be there is driven before him into the open mouth of the net, the con- to the surface at an angle, with one hand closing the lower aperture. Once at the sur- face, the contents are allowed to trickle out through the fingers at the closed end, by which means the presence of a crab, an eel, or other fish can be easily ascertained. I tried my hand at this queer method, but had my fingers badly bitten by my “catch” for my pains. Stern necessity has made the aboriginal a wily hunter, and some of his methods are very interesting. For instance, he stalks duck on the water and spears them. A common method is for the hunter to cover his head with a bundle of long grass, tied close to its extremities into something like a horse-collar, the extreme tents of which are every nowand again examined. Anothercommon way of catching fish, especially in the neighbour. hood of Princess Charlotte Bay, is for the hunter to throw into the water certain hollow logs of such timbers as will sink, and leave them there perhaps all day, or until he is passing that way again. When all is ready, the fisherman will dive down till he finds the log, DUCK-SPEARING ON THE LAGOONS FROM BEHIND THE COVER OF A BUNDLE OF GKASS- From a Photograph.

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558 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ends falling over on to his shoulders. One picture shows the hunter at work on a lagoon, arrayed in his head-gear. He holds his spear in one hand and a bunch of leafy switches in the other. The spear that he is using, it will be noticed, is thrown with a wommera, or “ spear- thrower.” Viewed from the front, the individual thus accoutred looks for all the world like a tussock of grass floating lazily along, so slow and silent are his movements. Sometimes, without troubling about a spear, he may, with his head thus masked, gradually steal upon the unsuspect- ing birds and catch them by hand. Another common method of capture is for the native, surface he looks very much like a crocodile, the projecting end representing the animal’s tail, and the knotted top its head. On the very stream shown in the photograph, eleven real crocodiles were observed on one and the same occasion, and yet the natives have no fear of going across on their logs—a procedure which I am inclined to believe is an example of pro- tective mimicry. Logs, in the early days of settlement, were certainly used on the east coast by the Keppel Islanders when crossing the intervening distance, some six or seven miles, to the mainland. Here, however, the log was considerably longer and propelled by the hands, From a) clad in Nature’s garb, to dive under a flcck and pull them down from underneath, one after the other, without alarming the main flock. At the mouth of the Mitchell River and along the neighbouring Gulf of Carpentaria coast-line the savages cross the streams by means of logs which they lie on astride, very much after the style of an English child “riding cock-horse.” The logs, of course, are of very light timber — that of the local white mangrove, usually, which is everywhere in evidence. Beyond trimming off the roots and branches nothing more is done to the butt, which is put into the water with the thicker end forward. With head and shoulders above water —one hand guiding his movements, the other holding his spears, etc.—the navigator sets out. With the greater part of his body below the NATIVES ABOUT TO CROSS A CROCODILE-INFESTED RIVER, LYING ASTRIDE ON LOGS, (Photograph, not “ridden on,” though the swimmers rested upon it when fatigued. : The aboriginal ladies, sad to say, sometimes quarrel—as ladies will the world over. They have, however, a peculiarly vigorous and summary way of settling their disputes. The scene shown in our next photograph is not uncommon, The two women are fighting. In this case, on the edge of the far Western desert, they may employ a man’s fighting-stick ; but on the Fitzroy River and Eastern coast-line long poles are made for the especial use of the ladies. To their credit be it said, they always fight fair—which is more than can be said for females everywhere. Thus, if but one stick is available, they take it turn and © turn about to strike each other from above down on the head, which is bent to receive the blow. After three or four whacks—six is the

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THE NATIVES OF THE “NEVER - NEVER.’ 559 MOW THE LADIES SETTLE THEIR QUARRELS—THEY TAKE TURN ABOUT TO STRIKE EACH OTHER OVER THE From a) maximum which the author has observed when “real business ” is intended—one or other of the combatants falls to the ground, stunned or faint from the loss of blood. When two sticks are available there is a preliminary “trial stakes,”*so to speak, with three “‘ guards,” the women holding the weapon with both hands wide apart, either horizontally above the head, or vertically out- wards on either side, to guard the only three positions in which the blows are allowed to be given. After a time, dependent upon the physical exertion and language used by either party, as well as upon the encouragement given by watching friends, one of the implements gets knocked to the ground, and then commences the fight to a finish. Only occasionally will the combatants be separated by their relatives, the usual procedure being rather for the latter to join in the dispute, so that a general méle results. Bones are often broken in these faction fights, but life is rarely lost. Another favourite method of fighting is for the combatants to throw hot ashes over one another. Pulling out of the Hair is often practised under these circum- stances, but the author has never seen any biting or scratching. Among savage tribes, of course, especially when nomadic, the problem of obtaining fire is all-important. The Australian aboriginal gets HEAD WITH A CLUB UNTIL ONE IS UNCONSCIOUS. (Photograph. his fire either by “twirling ” or by “‘ sawing,” one upon the other, two pieces of stick. In the Cape York Peninsula and the far Western districts the fire-sticks are in the form of two thin wands, extending to a length of from two to four or more feet. In the latter areas they are generally - discarded after use ; they are just made as they are wanted, and so are not usually seen carried about. In the Peninsula, however, both’ on mainland and coast, where they are retained, their “business” ends are preserved and pro- tected by a special cap or cover. This cap, or “matchbox,”: as it is sometimes called by the European settlers, has at its extremity a knob of beeswax or some form of gum-cement, into which the pretty red-and-black jequirity seeds are stuck. ‘The two operators were purposely placed close together by the author with a view to observing in how short a time they could get aflame. On this occasion fire was obtained in well under a minute. There are several pretty legends current among the blacks to explain the origin of fire. Fire serves many useful purposes for them, amongst the most important being its function of frightening away evil spirits. The lighting of the fire by a bride at the bride- groom’s hut is confirmation of the marriage, which is henceforth recognised by the tribe. The Wellesley Islanders:are> far behind the

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560 -THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. sf ORTAINING FIRE BY TWIRLING PIECES OF WOOD—A LIGHT WAS OBTAINED IN WELL UNDER A MINUTE. From a Photograph, mainlanders in their civilization, if such it can be called. For instance, they make no huts of any description, but just excavate a shallow circular space in the sand, with a few bundles of grass heaped around, and there they lie in At that edge ° the open to leeward of the heaps. of the space free from the grass bundles is a fire, kept burning all night, around which the occupants of the “tenement” coil themselves ; there are usually two individuals thus camped together. In the absence of blankets or other covering this sleeping in the open will account THE “ HOUSES” OF THE WELLESLEY ISLANDERS —HEAPS OF GRASS PLACED TO WINDWARD OF A DEPRESSION IN THE GROUND, WITH A FIRE Froma) OPPOSITE. (Photograph.

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THE NATIVES OF THE “NEVER-NEVER.” 561 ANOTHER KIND OP NATIVE HOMESTEAD. for the savages here rising so early in the morn- ing—otherwise a most unusual characteristic of the Queensland native. Matthew Flinders, the intrepid but unfortunate navigator, describes certain pits in these islands into which the Visiting savages would suddenly disappear. the place just a cen- tury later I was un- for the occupant to prac- tically crawl in. Such a habitation is mainly used for warmth in the winter months, and, with a fire and often a numerous family inside, isabsolutely unbearable for more than a very short time by any European. I was almost stifled on the one and only occasion that I ventured to try the experiment. The frame- work is very similar to that observed on the Eastern coast. A series of switches at regular intervals, with one speci- ally-enlarged interspace, which will ultimately con- stitute the doorway,” are stuck into the ground around a more or less circular area. These are bent over at their free extremities and tied, their lengths being strengthened with additional smaller switches passed in and out between, the whole consti- tuting a network into the meshes of which the tufts of grass are ultimately easily fixed. The dwellings we have seen do not contain much in the way of furniture, but the native, (Photograph. able to obtain adequate confirma- tion of the existence of these cavities. At the same time, it is quite possible that with the intervening hundred years the pits have gradually become shallower, and so merged into the excavations met with at the present day. Typical of the lower Gulf of Car- pentaria coast-line is the hut depicted above, thatched with grass, and having a very low entrance, so small that it is necessary Vol. xx.—7b THE SLEEPING PLATFORM OF A(CHIEF, + —— It oe (Photograph.

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562 THE WIDE, WORLD MAGAZINE. nevertheless, has his own ideas of comfort. Look, for example, at the photograph at the bottom of the previous page, which represents a sleeping platform—a sort of equivalent for an outdoor ‘spring-mattressed bed. forked uprights, into the forks of which are laid two poles, these in their turn supporting cross- wise the logs upon which grass is laid for the comfort of the sleeper. The author has seen these platforms up to six and seven feet high. When built up to these heights there is often a forked stick fixed up against one of the uprights, by means of which the owner is enabled to scramble to the top. Men invariably use these scaffoldings where It is formed of four. social rank or status in the community. As life progresses other and higher ranks are pro- gressively attainable for each sex, until the highest and most honourable grade, that enjoyed byan old man or woman, is reached. Before an individual can enter the next higher social stage than that of which he is a member he must him- self pass through all the duties of assisting in the initiating of others ito the same rank as himself, until, by reason of his age, etc., he comes to be the leader, chief director, or master of the cere- monies appertaining to his own degree. These initiation rites are sometimes spoken of as ‘“ Bora” ceremonies, from a native word signify- ing the cleared circular space where they usually RG at RG RC RC ‘THE SACRED ENCLOSURE IN THE FOREST WHERE THE MYSTIC INITIATION RITES ARE HELD, From a Photograph. met with, the women remaining on the ground below, their business being to squat round the fire, with the object of raising sufficient smoke to keep at a distance the mosquitoes, which would otherwise disturb their lord’s siesta. In many cases, especially in the wet season, an additional set of four longer forked uprights is fixed close to the ones already in position. These longer poles support a bark cover, and the whole structure then constitutes a hut. Thése scaffoldings are met with only in the northern areas and are believed to have been of Papuan origin. They are not, as might be expected, limited to swamp country, sca-coast, rivers, or lakes, but are often found on com- paratively high hills. When the savage reaches full development he or she undergoes a ceremony entitling him or her on its successful completion to a certain take place ; but in the extreme northern districts the clearing may be anything but circular. At any rate, wherever the ceremony takes place, that spot is taboo to all persons except those actually privileged. It is often fenced off in the depth of the forest at the end of an alley-way by a long screen, as shown in the above illustration. On the farther side of the screen there will be an “ orchestra ” beating with sticks, to the accompaniment of weird melody, upon the split half of a hollow log lying with its convex side up. A great deal of rubbish, with an admixture of unnecessary mystification, has been written concerning the initiation ceremonies, or “ Bora” rites. I have attended some dozens of them, and am, therefore, in a position to state that independently of the dramatic representation of many animals and certain useful plants, some-

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THE NATIVES OF THE what after the style of the European game of “dumb charades,” the novice is only taught what foods to avoid, from what section of the tribe it is lawful for him to choose his wife or wives, and how to pursue a line of conduct compatible with the savages’ idea of an honour- able, full-grown man. On completion of the ceremony the novice is henceforth responsible for the consequences of his own actions, he being no longer a minor, so to speak. With each progressive degree of initiation (and in some of the northern tribes there may be as many as seven) certain foods are allowed and others as strictly forbidden under threat of the direst punishments, until at the highest stage, amongst the very old men, all foods are free to him, such individuals naturally taking care that they have the first and best pick of everything. A savage can only marry a woman belonging to a particular division (from four to sixteen of them) in the tribe, as related to his own division—he must make his choice from out of what is called by scientists his “exogamous group,” and at initia- tion he is taught which is which, and also how to steal, capture, or otherwise obtain possession of the coveted lady. He also learns on these ONE STAGE OF THE INITIATION CRREMONIFS—A DRAMATIC REPRESENTATION OF THE GROWTH OF A PALM, “ NEVER - NEVER.” 563 occasions how to treat his fellow-men and his women-folk. Associated with these performances in certain districts there may be a certain amount of mutilation and the infliction of body-scars. In the photograph below—taken at an initiation on the northern banks of the Mclvor River— the growth of the zamia palm is being drama- tized. An essential in all the initiations is that the novice has to maintain silence, notwith- standing that every endeavour is made to catch him off his guard and make him speak. Should he fail in the ordeal, he has to commence his novitiate afresh and undergo various ‘punish- ments. From a Photograph. The chief personage who controls the per- formances constituting the initiation ceremonies, and who gives the principal items of instruction to the novices, may be decorated in various ways according to the district. In the upper Gulf and Cape York Peninsula areas masks are brought into requisition. These are made from bark, painted in red and white patterns, pierced with eyelet-holes, and would seem to be inti- mately connected with the turtle-shell masks formerly in vogue among the Torres Strait Islanders. The attire of the two extraordinary-looking individuals represented in the next photograph is

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564 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE, y i N N f\ i N f\ nN j\ f\ f f\ S From a) made of.a tassel-fringe about three feet deep and many yards long. Starting from the waist, this is wound round and round the body, over the folded arms, and ends on the shoulders. Being manufactured from dried strips of tea-tree bark, the tassels hang very loose, and give rise to a very pleasant rustling sound at each movement ~* the wearer. In this particular initiation the TWO OF THE PRESIDING DIGNITARIES AT AN INITIATION FUNCTION. (Photograph, | actual uncovering of the masks, their fixation with the three decorated spears, and the genuflexion made to them are portions of the ceremony which novices are not per- mitted to see. Unaware of this, I received somewhat of a fright on seeing my black servant suddenly seized by the throat from behind, and his eyes covered. I naturally NATIVES EXPRESSING GRIEF AT THE DECEASE OF A RELATIVE —THEY WILL BEWAIL THEIR LOSS FOR HOURS AT A Timi, NOT AS‘A TOKEN OF SOKROW, HOWEVER, BUT TO PROVE THAT THEY HAD froma) NOTHING TO DO WITH THE DEATH (Photograph,

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$$ a - v THE NATIVES OF THE Suspected treachery, having already been warned that two of the savages with whom I was then wandering were “ wanted” on charges of murder, but my suspicions were soon allayed on seeing my faithful servitor released, and being informed that the latter was not of sufficiently “high degree” to allow of his seeing this particular part of the performance. Amongst the many means adopted for expressing grief upon the death of a relative, perhaps as interesting a one as any is that met with in the neighbourhood of the Tully River. Here, two, three, or four of the deceased’s friends or relatives will squat close together with hands on each other’s shoulders, bewailing, for hours at a time, the loss of the dear departed. It is not the virtues of the latter that are in any way extolled, however. What these mourners are really taking care to do’is to show that they and the deceased were always good friends ; that they often used to go hunting together; that they never had any quarrels, etc., etc. Their object in all this is to prove to the outside public that they have had nothing to do with the encompassing of the death. There is no such thing “ NEVER - NEVER.” 565 In every case someone has to be blamed, and certainly, for the death of a warrior, a life is always forfeit. In the neighbourhood of the Endeavour River, when death overtakes any adult male, it is the custom of the chief mourner—usually the elder brother or the” father’s brother—to don the fishing-nets and woven bags belonging to the deceased, draping the body somewhat after the style of the European “ widow’s weeds.” When the annexed photograph was taken the individual shown was labouring under a distinct grievance. He had been treated scandalously, he said. Here had he been wailing and crying manfully for upwards of two days, and yet he had been brought nothing to eat! The native women’ in this district cut a far more pleasing figure; in that their mourning decorations consist of beautifully- worked strings, woven in a “chain- -Pattern,” coiled round and round from over one shoulder to under the opposite armpit. Another curious custom met with both here and elsewhere is that throughout the whole period of mourning the hair is not allowed to be cut. When, however, | the barbers work as a “natural” death amongst these savages. If a person dies from what we should call disease or accident, these’ people will blame witchcraft for the deed, some medicine-man hav- ing doomed the victim to be seized with illness, or to be struck by the falling bough, or ‘whatever it was that killed him. ‘wipows’ WEEDS,” is at last effected, the wife or wives of the deceased be- come the property of the brother, the ceremony being made the oppor- tunity for other men to takewomen to wife. AS WORN BY THE MEN-FOLK OF THE ENDEAVOUR RIVER — THR CHIEF MOURNER DONS THE FISHING-NETS OF THE DECEASED AND LAMENTS HIM FOR DAYS ON END. From a Photograph.

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WIA SXE/ a) oN TAAL ‘gS Gidea \® 7a5 tn a ——as fj) ERS ENE LLIN NWA ZAM ESNG, § 4 AN The Queen’s Temper. K < A Chapter of Secret History. ToLD By WARNFORD WHITE AND SET DOWN BY MounG Suway. This remarkable narrative shows how the actions of obscure individuals may sometimes bring about diplomatic upheavals that cause kingdoms to fall. Filled with the idea, in the critical days of 1884, that Burma must either be seized by France or England, the narrator deliberately made up his mind to provoke a disturbance which should cause Great Britain to take decisive action. he story describes the strange and exciting events which followed his dramatic interview with the dreaded iddle Queen-—events which culminated in the arrival of the British troops and the down- fall of Burma as an independent State. =a HAT is as your Majesty pleases,” I replied ; “only I have warned you that if you do commit yourself # to certain acts they will surely bring your enemies down upon you with some show of justification.” 1 spoke firmly and in a loud voice, for I wanted to make her angry; but for once she held herself in check and replied with a self- control which belied her reputation. “Can there be any justification at all in meddling with the internal affairs — nay, even the domestic arrangements—of the palace? From time immemorial it has been the recog- nised custom to remove all possible upstarts from the way to the throne. Any of the King’s cousins would poison him if they had the chance, and I stand between him and’a crowd of would-be murderers.” _ To hear this arch-murderess talking about prevention nettled me somewhat, and I replied, scornfully :-— : “The old order changes. Kings beside whom Theebaw is a mere child, and nations who could swallow the Burmese, have had to change their customs at the bidding of the White Queen.” : At the mention of Victoria the Supyala started violently and rose from her chair like a hooded cobra. , “Oh,” she cried, “has it indeed come to this —that here in my own Court, in my own palace, 1 am to be insulted by a nameless rascal with the mention of that woman? I am sick to death of hearing of her wealth and power, and what she has done, may do, can, will, might, and ought to do. One would think, to hear you talk, that she was someone divine, set far above such trash as me. Know, insolent Englishman, that I am no more impressed by the mention of your Sovereign than by my lamp-trimmer in the compound, and that, if I choose, I will decorate every winged gate in the city wall with the living body of a Kullah to-night, so that you may mingle your howls with theirs when I have you brought out to meet a more leisured death upon the morrow!” “Yes?” I answered. first !” Then her demoniac temper fairly gave way and she raved like a madwoman. She tore the golden comb from her hair and the scarf from her neck, flinging them across the room, and the massy folds of her thick tresses swept th floor and wreathed themselves about her body as she swayed before me in a blind passion, hurling at me all the unprintable abuse of the East. I- had risen, and we stood facing each other not three feet distant while she raged thus, horrible to see. Intense hatred, jealousy, thwarted ambition, and her unslaked thirst for blood, which she was restrained from shedding by the fear of the race whose self - appointed ambassador I was and whose type I represented, spent itself on my defenceless head as, with a movement like a panther about to spring, she patted the ground with her soft-skod feet and looked up into my face with the eyes of a demon. Never again, I hope, shall I see a woman so transfigured by unreasoning anger as was. this fury that I had raised to my undoing. So perverse is man’s nature that I almost “ Others also will howl

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THE QUEEN'S TEMPER. 567 loved her at that moment—she was so utterly beyond everything feminine I had ever seen that some savage instinct in me went out to her in her abandonment. Suddenly she choked, and began clutching and tearing at her throat. The jewel fell to the floor, rolled into the river of light from overhead, and lay there flaming in the beam which struck full on it. Her pale brown fingers shredded the muslin of her dress and bared her bosom as she tottered and would have fallen. Quick as thought my arms were round her, pinioning her own and supporting her quivering body, while “LT KISSED THE QUBEN OF BURMA FULL ON THE MOUTH.” she, forgetting all else than that she was seized by one she supposed to be her enemy, threw back her head and opened her lips for a shriek which would have brought the palace about my ears and meant. instant death. Then I dida thing which no man, living or dead, has ever done or will do again; I kissed the Queen of Burma full on the mouth ! “ Peace, little one,” I said, gently ; “ there is no need to call,” and I released her. She sank back into the vermilion chair and gasped, “Give me water.” A filter of three earthen pots, one above the other in a wooden rack, stood at the end of the room. I brought a china ‘bowl of water and gave it to her. “Pick up my comb,” she commanded. I picked up the comb and gave her that also. Rapidly and with marvellous cunning she coiled up her hair and thrust her comb into it. Then she said, simply :— “T am glad you pre- vented me from calling. It is not meet that my people should find me in sucha humiliating position. And because you have rendered me that service, and be- cause you are a man and not a monk, your death shall be as easy as I can well make it.” She slipped her sandal and struck a soft blow on the gong at her side, and immediately a woman ap- peared. “Send Diaz to me,” she ordered. Then to me: “Why did you do that— that which you did when I was going to scream? We do not do that here.” “Tt is a custom,” I re- “Tt a sign of friend- “*H’m,” she said, and she looked long and steadily at me through the heavy- fringed lids of her fathom- less black eyes. Then, with what was almost a sigh or a sob, she said, “It is a pity—it is a great pity,

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568 but there is nothing else to do—how could there be? Here, Diaz,” for the yellow man had appeared, “this man is to be shot—sho#, mind ; not tortured. If I hear so much as a breath that he has been badly treated or that his death was bungled I will close your left eye for you to ensure better shooting in future. Away with him.” And she yawned deliberately, placing her hands behind her head. I bowed and thanked the Supyalat for her clemency. Then we two men went out and I saw her no more. The guards marched me out of the palace enclosure, out of the garden, and beyond the western blockhouse. It was Diaz’s evident intention to march me through the city and enhance his reputation by parading an Englishman through the bazaar as _ his ptisoner. There was a weird informality in it all. Directly we were clear of the palace gate we all began to smoke, and one of the soldiers handed me his cheroot and asked me to light it. They were armed with Sniders and carried the heavy-papered cartridges in black leather boxes strapped over the back. His weakness for swaggering was Diaz's undoing, for we had no sooner arrived opposite Moung Miah’s house and were passing it than I heard a loud exclamation of “Oh, dear!” and a girl with two long wooden hammers in her hand disappeared like a flash behind the hang- ings and into the house. Five minutes later, when we had nearly reached the western wall, against which all my puny efforts at empire- building were to come to a swift conclusion, the rapid hoof-beats of a Burmese trotting pony brought us round to face Moung Miah himself. “ Halt, there,” he said, sharply; “ what is going on?” ; I did not give Diaz time to answer. I wanted to get speech of the old man myself, before he lost interest in me. A dead man is not such an important person here as he is in London. “TT die by the Queen’s order,” I said. “Which way?” he asked; he did not say “When?” There was no delay and humbugging about with a condemned man in Burma. That also is different from London. “ By shooting,” I answered. “Good,” said Moung Miah, and the faintest suspicion of a smile showed in his face as he turned to Diaz. “TI am going to take your men and bring three other miscreants for their deserts,” he said. “You will then shoot all four when I return. Until then you will remain with this prisoner and guard him. As he is unarmed I need not leave anyone with you—I take it you are able to take care of a naked man?” Diaz flushed angrily. “Yes, thakin; I can THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. take care of him, and twenty other English dogs like him.” “Good,” ejaculated the chief. ‘Come, my children, it is getting late and will be sundown before we are back. See that you guard him well, Diaz!” . He did not look at me again, and that was the last I ever saw of Moung Miah. I knew enough of him to know that he would not concern himself with such trivialities as arrests and summary executions unless they had some political significance, and I guessed that this was the old fire-eater’s way of giving me my fighting chance. If I got away, he could claim a share in my escape. If I did not, it was no concern of his, and one man more or less in his history was not a thing to be taken seriously. A rest-tent stood pitched just outside the - west gate between the moat and the wall, and into this Diaz drove me with as much noise and abuse as he could raise, so as to attract atten- tion from the country folk crossing the bridge into the city. I submitted meekly, and, sitting down on the ground, buried my face in my hands. I was torn by many conflicting emotions. ~ The first consideration was that I must escape, but Diaz squatted with his rifle across his knee and the muzzle pointing at the pit of my stomach, so that for the present it was a hazard to rush him, and, moreover, it was too light. - Like Wellington at Waterloo I prayed for darkness. I knew that Moung Miah would keep his men till late, so as to give me a reason- able time to get away in. It wanted half an hour to sunset, and being of a practical turn I nursed myself for the coming effort by lying flat on my back on the charpoy. In the many trying corners I have been in I have always had the blessed gift of sleep, and during this hour of waiting I slept, although I never actually lost touch with myself and my surroundings. When I awoke it was pitch-dark. I sat up suddenly with every hair bristling, every sense as keen as a razor, every muscle set for imme- diate action. I listened intently for a moment, and then went nearly demented with joy, for the sound which met my ears was sweeter at that moment than the song of the nightingale— it was the deep, resonant, hog-like snore and snort of a man plunged seven-fathom deep in slumber! I slipped off my boots and thanked Heaven my feet were hard and tough with long weeks spent in the sandals and bare-foot fashion of the country. Diaz’s rifle lay on the ground beside him. I drew it quietly towards me, and, feeling for a soft, damp place in the bank of the moat, drove the muzzle deep into the thick clay; then, pulling it out, I

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THE QUEEN’S TEMPER. 569 wiped it clean with my handkerchief, opened the breech to make certain it was loaded, and, tiptoeing back, laid it quietly beside the sleep- ing man. Next minute I was away and back through the gate into the city, and heading by an obscure lane for Co-La’s house. The good man was impassively hospitable and offered me food. “Not now,” I said; “there is a hurry. Give me the run of your medicine- chest for five minutes, a razor, an old loongye and jacket ; I’ve got a big silk handkerchief and I don’t want boots. Only, be quick! The sooner I am out of your house the better.” He showed me into his inner room. He had no women. I had my moustache off in an instant, Then I emptied a couple of ounces of permanganate of potash into a basin, and, having darkened the water to deepest claret colour, ducked my head and shoulders in the fluid. My arms and legs and chest being all stained brown, I let them dry in the intense heat of the room while I twisted my long red silk hand- kerchief round my head in the fashion of a Burmese man-at-arms, tying the bow tight on the forehead. It did not take me a minute to jump into the loongye and jacket, and the next thing Co-La knew was that a sprightly. young Mandalay buck was taking a long pull at his water-jar outside the house-door. I bade him farewell, and then, running down the street, turned into the main road and plunged into the throng. The fitful light of fhe fat-lamps and naphtha-flares filled the bazaar with bright blotches and dark moving shadows. I pressed through the crowd onward to the palace gate, passing unnoticed in that seething mass of humanity. The shop of the oil-merchant was full of customers, and my girl-friend of yesterday handed me an anna’s-worth of paraffin as I leant forward and said :— “The man who saved your husband yesterday bids you go now to the palace and tell the guard that the white man has escaped, gone down to the river, and on board the steamer which leaves to-morrow. If you have anything to be grateful for, do this at once.” I did not wait for an answer, but went straight to the bamboo plantation opposite the guard-room and waited. The girl was true to her friend. I saw her speaking excitedly to the guards, and next instant I heard the big gong inside thundering out the assembly. What happened in the palace during the next half- hour I do not know, but I learned later that the Queen ordered the immediate capture of the steamer, the imprisonment of its captain, and- my head to be brought to her. What I actually saw was the stream of armed men marching down the main street, followed by a mob some Vol. xx.—72, thousands strong, all heading for the shore. 1 joined the crowd, and the march to the river began. Close to me was one of many men on horse- back, his wiry pony fitted with red rope reins and bridle, and a saddle like a red pulpit cushion. I offered him ten rupees for the loan of his pony, promising to send him the beast back to Moung Miah’s house by sunrise. He slipped out of the saddle, and I was up in his place at once. There was no getting clear of the throng until we reached the next turning; then I trotted down a side street and reached the southern- most gate in the west wall, which is the nearest point to the shore from the fort. Once outside the city I let the pony have it, and we flew through the gloom at a spanking pace. My mount reached the shore with heaving flanks and wagging tail, and I fell from the saddle on all fours. Iwas along the wharf and up the gang-plank like a burnt cat, and before the sleepy-headed Dutchman on watch knew I was on board I was aft hammering at the cabin skylight like an undertaker working overtime. The hatchway opened and the head of the skipper appeared. When he became aware that a Burman was beating the devil’s tattoo over his cuddy skylight he made use of just the sort of refreshing and well-chosen remarks for which the English mercantile marine is so justly noted. He had got as far as— “ Swizzle-eyed, ring-tailed son of a Burmese something——” when I interrupted him. “Burmese be hanged!” I shouted, rudely. “Tm a Cockney. The mob are coming to gut your rotten old dug-out and lob you in the farthest corner of the clink. They’ll be here in five minutes, Listen!” A dull, ugly roar from the eastward showed that the crowd was working itself up for the final rush as it came. It was hopeless to think of saving the vessel, and the skipper knew it. “Lay aft the watch!” he roared. I waited for no more. Casting her painter adrift, I dropped into the stern of the ship’s dinghy and scrambled forward, shipping the rowlocks as I went. The skipper came last; we were seven all told. “Captain,” I said, “if ever your men pulled in their lives, they should pull now. ‘The palace guard is ahead of the mob with rifles, and the Supyalat has ordered your body, dead or alive, to be brought to the palace.” The fringe of grey whiskers bristled out round the red face as he replied :— “Tm obliged to you, sir, for your timely warning and advice. But we'll pay them out for this !”

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570 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Then, with a roar, the mob burst upon the A human deluge swept along the deck and flooded into the cabins and hold, while screams, howlings, crashing and resounding doomed vessel. “Stop,” I said. “Let him take his chance. What is one among so many?” Then Diaz raised his rifle and, aiming full at me, pulled the trigger. ‘There was a blinding “He PITCHRO FORWARD INTO THE KACING MILL-STREAN GF THE IKRRAWAUDY.” blows told that the cargo was being broached and looted. : A figure appeared on the bridge, gazing wildly riverward in the glare of the torches. “There they are!” it shrieked. He has escaped.” It was Diaz. The target he made was too tempting for the skipper, and he raised his pistol. “ There ! flash and a ripping report as the clay-plugged breech blew up in his face, and losing his balance he pitched forward into the racing mill- stream of the Irrawaddy. The Queen’s temper, as I had hoped, had done its work. The loss of that steamer was, to use the expressive idiom of a military friend, “the last straw which gave the Indian camel the hump.”

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WAYSIDE SCENES IN GREECE. By A.. E. JOHNSON. Very few of the hundreds of tourists who annually visit Athens ever think of exploring the interior of the country. This chatty little article shows that there is much of interest to be seen in a ramble over the roads and mountains of modern Greece. haz HE traveller of that type which is ar teme) 2dmirably described by the simple Ls a4 ga) word “tourist” has often seen PMeee) Athens, but he has seldom- seen Greece. It is a commonplace to be told by the tourist whom one meets in the Mediterranean that, beyond Athens, there is nothing to be seen in Greece—“ except ruins ” ! Moreover, it is carefully explained, even were there anything to see it would be quite impos- sible to see it, as the travelling is so bad and there are no hotels. Comment on such foolishness is, of course, needless, but remarks of this kind give a clue to what is, perhaps, the most distinctive and peculiar feature of travel in rural Greece. There are no towns, or, at all events, no cities, save one. Athens is the single residential centre of consequence in the whole country, and the result is that a journey in the interior presents curious features to a traveller who has been used to countries where large centres of popula- tion, if not numerous, are at least found at intervals, Railways are few and bad, serving but a small portion of the country ; roads are rough and dusty, and inns scarce and comfortless. Yet for the sentimental traveller the fascina- tion of Greece is scarcely to be excelled, and rare pleasures are in store for him whose happy lot it is to take the road, mounted or afoot, through the Attic plain, across the Peloponnesus, ‘or into the mountain fastnesses of Thessaly. He need not fear for hospitality. It is characteristic of the peasantry of most countries —even those which have a reputation for surliness and unfriendliness—that the wayfarer is pretty sure of kindly treatment when once it is realized that he is a stranger in the land. This is especially true of the Greek peasantry, who take the keenest delight in doing their utmost to welcome and show kindness to the stranger. The means at their disposal are not always great, for the country, despite the wealth of its mercantile classes (who make their money abroad in the great commercial centres Photographs by the Author. of the Levant), is wretchedly poor. But the cottager will offer him a flask of resinous wine, or a glass of water and a lump of loucoume, with a courtesy that does much to take off the rasping edge of the former, and supply to a hungry man the deficiencies of the latter; while the shepherd on the hills will welcome him to a night's lodging in his hut— and more than his fair share of the incidental and voracious inhabitants thereof. Another characteristic feature of Greek society is its democratic tendency. Such may be ex- pected in a nation which has not enjoyed corporate existence long enough to permit the assumption by any one class or section of society of especial prestige ; and in Greece the doctrine that all men are socially equal is very frankly observed. The result is both pleasing and otherwise. Many advantages are gained, but greater opportunities of presumption are also afforded to the ill-bred. Nowhere, perhaps, is the democratic tendency so well exhibited as on board the little Greek steamers which ply between the islands of the Archipelago, or from the Pirzeus to’ Smyrna, Constantinople, and the other ports of the Levant. The fares are graduated according to three classes, but, except that a higher fare entitles the passenger to a berth, the ship is practically, if not nominally, free to all—a state of affairs very ruffling to the starched tourist who has paid first-class passage money, and expects to lord it over his humbler fellows accordingly. Should he unwisely object to the intrusion of a peasant on the upper deck, he will be met with the remark, “I have not entered your cabin,” uttered with an expostulatory air which suggests that this disposes of the matter in the speaker’s mind. Should he pursue his snobbery farther, and insist upon an exclusive right to a certain portion of the deck, he will be told, ‘We are in God’s air!” and if he can find a satisfactory retort to that he is ingenious. There is a curious contrast between peasants and townspeople. The young Greek of the

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572 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. town is apt to be of weedy stature, inclined to effeminacy in his manners and foppery in his dress, white the girls of the business and educated classes are, to English eyes at all events, of a tame and uninteresting type—not to say plain. The Greek of the open country is generally a man of fine physique—long of limb and lithe of figure. His womenkind, too, offer a remarkable contrast to their insipid cousins of the town, being likewise well developed, and in many cases of bold and striking beauty, though the hard labour and constant toil which give them vigour are some- times apt to lessen their natural grace and coarser their features. In the matter of looks they are well served, no doubt, by the picturesque cos- tume which they wear, the coloured kerchief tied round their head serving admir- ably as a foil to their dark and handsome faces. National costume in Greece, as in other coun- tries, is disappearing. For- merly every district had its own distinctive garb. ‘This was especially the case in the Archipelago, every island having its peculiar dress, to which the natives rigidly adhered. It is sel- dom now, however, that the old island costumes are seen, and throughout the country generally the splendidly picturesque dress, borrowed from the Albanians, which is usually acknowledged as the national costume, is being gradually ousted in favour of more utilitarian gar- ments. This is much to be regretted, for no finer garb can be imagined, to set off a stalwart physique, than the voluminous white shirt and sleeveless embroidered jacket, with dazzling petticoat or kilt, and long white stockings ending in the upturned shoes, so quaintly ornamented with huge balls of fluff. The hideous fashion which is growing in popu- larity amongst the peasants is for a pair of shoddy trousers, such as might grace a slop-shop in Dockland, surmounted by a skimpy frock of some cheap material, usually of a check pattern. The latter is made with a ridiculous little fringe round the waist — presumably a feeble con- cession to the old traditional fustanella or ‘A MAIDEN OF MEGARA. From a Photograph. kilt—and a battered straw hat completes the tig-out. The women, for the most part, wear for their workaday costume a dress made of a very coarse and strong kind of linen, dyed a rich, deep blue which is a perpetual joy to the eye. The bodice is shaped like a jacket, sometimes with sleeves, sometimes without, and having longish skirts. A coloured apron, the pattern of which generally varies in each district, is nearly always worn in front, hung low from the waist. The head, as already mentioned, is in- variably tied up in a handkerchief, usually of a yellow colour, which admirably frames the features. Feast days and holidays are, of course, the times when the national costume is seen to best advantage — especially as regards the women and girls, who then don their most elaborate finery. Such - occasions as the Easter celebrations at Megara (a town famous, inciden- tally, for the beauty of its women), when a_ peculiar dance is performed by the village girls, are rendered splendidly picturesque by the variety and beauty of the costumes displayed. Amongst the illustrations to this article will be found a photograph of a group of peasants taken on the banks of the Corinth Canal, which displays some ex- amples of Greek costume. The girl, who is garbed in her Sunday best, has been true to native traditions of dress, and her lover, though spoiling thegenera! ensemble by his Western headgear, is also in orthodox costume. The curious leather pouch attached to his girdle, which serves him in lieu of pockets, should be noted. The youth on the extreme left, engaged in the production of heartrending sounds from a native flute, wears the ugly com- bination of tunic and trousers just described. The fourth figure is that of an Evzone, or “highlander” of the Greek army, in winter uniform. The national costume reaches its apotheosis, so to speak, in the summer uniform of the Evzones. These are the regiments of the Greek conscript army which are drawn from the dis- tricts of Acharnania and-other | mountainous

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‘ic: ——— £3 —_—_—_—_—_———————— ee $a WAYSIDE SCENES IN GREECE. : 573 bearing slung ovet one shoul der the heavy capote whicl serves him in all weathers a garment by day anc covering by night, hi will meet’ more fre quently when he stray: from the road and fol lows the sheep-track: among the hills. Occa sionally he may hea the tenders of the flocks calling to -one another across the hill. tops. These men have a knack by which they can make their voices carry, in the clear, still air, a most extraordi- nary distance. Listen- ing to them, one begins to understand how in ancient days news va: 4 could travel at a speed From a) — Photog which, in the, absence of ordinary means of regions. It is fitting that, as hillmen, they communication, seems incredible. should wear the hillman’s dress, and their In the fields by the roadside the peasant may uniform is practically the Albanian costume just be seen at various agricultural tasks, according described, with various handsome and elaborate to the season of the year, ploughing, it may be, . Omamentations. There are no troops in Europe if eer ve yan : i hau of more picturesque ap- { pearance, and beside ~ : | their lowland comrades of the line, and the cavalry, who are garbed in simple (one might almost say shoddy) uniform of common Continental cut, they make a resplendent show. i In the folk whom the wayfarer meets upon the road in rural Greece there is much and interesting variety. With the goatherd he falls in everywhere, wending his leisurely way amidst his flock, and carrying in his arms, perhaps, a tiny kid not yet old enough to endure the dust and stones. The shepherd, SSITOR THN GREEK. AWAY 1s, THETK ST RIRING BONER UMtv ones a long and lean man, From a Photograph.” ]

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574 THE WIDE WORLD *MAGAZINE. PLOUGHING—THE PEASANT 1S USING A POLE, SHOD WITH AN IRON TIP, DRAWN BV A COUPLE OF ILL-MATCHED OXEN, ’ From a Photograph, with such a primitive implement as is seen in the photograph reproduced above—a mere pole shod with an iron tip, and drawn by a couple of ill-matched cattle. Or he may come upon a group of men and women gathering the meagre harvest of corn, or stripping the currant- vines of the small grapes, to be sent presently to Patras for packing and shipment. The women From a) A HARVEST SCENE, take their share of work in the fields in addition to their domesti¢ duties, and both the peasant and his wife drudge hard for their bare living. Time-saving devices of any kind are rarely seen, . for the land yields a poor return, and the capital

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WAYSIDE SCENES IN GREECE. 575 of the country is invested in com- mercial rather than in agricultural enter- prises. Such mechanical contrivances as may be seen are frankly primitive and clumsy, though often extremely in- genious. The reader may be interested in the photograph reproduced below of the elaborate arrangement for draw- ing water from a well which is com- monly employed. <A large wheel, suspended above the well - mouth, carries an endless chain of earthen- ware jars. Motive power is supplied by a blindfolded donkey, and the full jars, as they ascend and are tipped up in their passage over the rim of the revolving wheel, empty themselves into a trough which communicates with a reservoir below. A line is hitched to the donkey’s nose, and attached at its other end to .a bar projecting from the axle revol¥ed by the donkey. Any movement of the latter’s head causes the line to tighten momentarily, and the poor beast, being blindfolded, imagines that a cruel taskmaster is perpetually jerking him forward. Obedient to the supposed signal, he keeps his course and perpetually plods his weary round for hours on end without attention. Other quaint types the traveller will meet upon the road. Some- times it is an aged beggar creeping slowly from village to village with hand outstretched to beg for alms a Al ee Le ‘A CURIOUS WELL WORKED RY A BLINDFOLDED DONKRV. From a Photograph. . A TYPICAL GREEK BEGGA: ING OF SHREDS AND PATCHES,” From a Photograth. from those who pass him. Typical of such is the tattered mendicant seen in the above photograph — truly a “thing of shreds and patches.” First cousin to him is the travelling tinker, seen in the picture which appears on the top of the next page, whom, with his family, the writer came upon in Corinth. Judging from his ap- pearance, there must have been a strong strain of gipsy blood in his veins, and as he sat by the roadside before his tattered tent, busily hammer- ing upon a metal pot, he made a_ singular figure. ‘l'angled locks of lustrous black hair fell about his face, and the tanned skin of his half-naked body gleamed through the rents of his ragged clothes. Also to be men- tioned are the watch- dogs, which are the especial bane of the

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576 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a) A GIPSY TINKER BY THE WAYSIDE, traveller. Every farm—indeed, every cottager’s hut—has its dog, generally a large mongrel cur of a particularly ill-tempered and savage type. The brutes are never tied up, and rush forth upon the unsuspecting wayfarer with an apparent ferocity which fills him, until he becomes used to their ways, with dire alarm—the more so since their owners look on uncon- cernedly and make no step to his rescue. The curs are dangerous, how- ever, only when in sufficient numbers to surround the stranger. So long as the latter can keep his face to them and is armed with a stick he need have no fear, for they are as cowardly as they are ill-mannered. It is scarcely necessary, indeed, to have a stick, for a stone is more effective, and the simple action of stooping to pick one up will send a dog scurrying back to his lair even faster than he came out. To the cyclist they are an even worse nuisance, for they show a fiendish delight in pursuing him closely and endeavouring to snatch pieces out of his revolving calves. His remedy, however, is simple ; all he has to do is to dismount, when the dog, frightened out of his wits at the portentous spectacle of his enemy apparently coming in half, beats a hasty retreat. From this it will be obvious that cyclists are rarely seen in the country districts of Greece; he must be an ardent devotee of the wheel who will From a) ne ~s wa PRIESTS OF THE GREEK CHURCH ARE FAMILIAR FIG (Photograph. is instantly apparent to a deference and respect with wl is invariably received by the peasantry. He is THE COUNTRY. te brave the stones and dust of the unspeakable roads. Most charac- teristic figure of all, perhaps, is that of the Greek priest, whom everywhere — in town and coun- try alike — the traveller meets. The hold which the Greek Church has upon the people is re- markably strong ; it is, indeed, the chief bond which unites the nation, and its wide- spread influence stranger in the which the priest ee Ts: | UKKS THROUGHOUT (Photograph.

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WAYSIDE SCENES IN GREECE. 577 of impressive mien, as a rule, wearing his flowing robes and high headgear with natural ease and dig-’ nity. His locks are, of course, unshorn, but ordinarily he wears his hair gathered in a loose knot at the back of his head. When ad- vanced in years, with long, flowing beard turning to silver or white, no more patri- archal or majestic figure can be imagined, and a cer- tain measure of reve- rence is compelled by his mere appear- ance. The convents of the monasticorders serve the traveller in many cases in the place of an_ inn. Strangers are always welcome, and receive such hospitality as the monks are able to provide, and are treated with much pleasant courtesy so long as they choose to remain. No charge is made for their entertainment, but it is the custom to make a donation for the good of the poor before leaving. In the small towns and villages the same Scenes and types recur. There is the butcher's shop, with its freshly-skinned hides, gleaming pink and blue in the sun, hung from a pole in front of the door; the wine: shop, where the local gossips step in to drink a cup of coffee or a glass of mastic; the baker's, filled with Gar- ” gantuan loaves of coarse bread; and the boot- maker’s, in which strings of the townsman’s narrow, pointed boots vie with the stout-soled, nail-studded shoes of the peasant. Most impor- tant of all is the pantopoleion, or universal emporium, which answers to the general shop of an English village, and is distinguished by an even more mixed and peculiar odour. Here household goods of all descriptions can be bought, including the highly-flavoured edibles, such as pickled fish, olives, and the like, in which the Greek peasant delights. The traveller who is delicate about his food will suffer much while wandering in Greece, for the meat is tough and coarse, and oil is principally used for cooking it. E he fares with the peasant he will be lucky if he gets any meat at all. Probably he will have fol, xx.—73. A BUTCHER'S SHOP, WITH ITS ROW OF HIDES DANGLING OUTSIDE, From a Photograph. to content himself with olives, brown bread, and goats’ cheese, with resin wine of the most acrid flavour imaginable as his staple drink (except where the water supply is good), and a glass of mastic (the flavour of which is that of paregoric) as an occasional luxury. He will have the advantage, however, of fresh fruit in abundance, and vegetables served, if he pleases, in many cunning and enticing ways ; also the interest, oecasionally, of unusual dishes, to which his hunger will add a piquant sauce. x In Thessaly, while traversing a ravine from one monastery to another I encountered a trio of brigands. The rencontre was dramatic in a small way. The only path through the dense and luxurious vegetation, which overgrew the green floor of the valley between the grim, over- hanging cliffs of black rock, was the sandy bed of a dry stream. Pursuing a laborious way along this track, I came to a large mass of rock which obstructed me. As I climbed the bank to circumvent the boulder, three men sprang up from behind it, seeming to my startled eyes to have leapt out of the ground. As it happened, I must have been in reality as surprising an apparition to them as they to me. _ Sitting under the lee of the rock they had not heard my approach, and the sudden appearance in their midst of a stranger—not common in those lonely parts — unarmed, unaccompanied, and

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578 ; THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THE THREE BRIGANDS UPON WHOM THE AUTHOR STUMBLED IN THR MOUNTAINS — FORTUNATELY. FOR HIM THEY PROVED FRIENDLY, AND THE MEETING ENDED WITH MUTUAL GOOD WISHES AND THE TAKING OF THE ABOVE PHOTOGRAPH. apparently tongue-tied, must certainly have been, though not alarming, disconcerting. After mutual glances of suspicion, however, conversation was opened. Neither party could understand a word of what the other said, but a friendly intention on both sides was evident, and the intercourse proceeded amicably, if some- what haltingly. It was easy to discover from the intonation of the questions and the gestures which accompanied them the nature of the simple interrogations put to me, and with the help of a few stray words of Greek it was pos- sible to answer them more or less satisfactorily. The entente cordiale being presently clinched by a diplomatic expression of admiration for the ornamented hilt of the knife or dagger which was stuck in the sash of the chief of the trio, the way was paved for a suggestion that a portrait of the group be taken by means of the camera. Few people, civilized, uncivilized, or in the intermediate stage, can resist an opportunity of being photographed, and the suggestion was hailed with delight. The result is to be seen in the illustration above. At first I had taken my companions for simple mountajneers. But, eyeing them closely while in conversation, I found myself puzzled to “place” them. As the talk proceeded, I began to have a half suspicion that they were not quite the peaceful peasants I had sup- posed them. There was a something in their de- meanour which marked them as different from the ordinary rustic of Thes- saly, and I could not fail to notice the resplendent garb of the individual who, from his manner and slight assumption of authority, seemed to be the leader. His embroidered cap, shirt of fine linen, elabo- rate shoes, and _hand- somely- mounted dagger, added to his stalwart phy- sique, gave him a notable appearance, and pro- claimed him a person of some consequence — if only in his own estima- tion. Later, on mentioning the incident and describ- ing the trio to a Greek gentleman resident _ in Volo, I learned that with- out doubt I had fallen in with brigands. It would be more correct, perhaps, to describe them as bandits ; the smaller fry, that is to say, of the brotherhood of the road. These would not be brigands of the lordly type who hold a captive to ransom, but rather mere highwaymen and robbers. It seems that such do not often care to take the risk of molesting a foreigner—least of all an Englishman, to whom his nationality is a valuable safeguard. Personally I have none but pleasant relations to record with the friendly three, but it is by no means sure that a stranger in similar case would every time escape scot-free. On another occa- sion I learned that I was fortunate to escape misadventure. Being overtaken by night in the hills, after having partly lost my way, I elected to sleep on the hillside rather than journey to a village which I knew was not far distant and spend a night of discomfort in a peasant’s hut. As it turned out, I endured far worse miseries from cold and rain than I should hzve suffered from any number of unwelcome bedfellows, and, in addition, ran some risk of violence. I was in a remote district, and, if reports are to be credited, an unarmed traveller who chooses to sleep beneath the open sky stands a reasonable chance, if discovered by a wandering shepherd or mountaineer, of being required to “stand and deliver.” This is not to say thata

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WAYSIDE SCENES IN “GREECE. 579 which is two miles from the modern town, the women of the hamlet situated at the foot of the Acro- polis peak may almost daily be seen washing clothes in the stream that still descends by ancient con- duits from the sacred fount of Pirene on the heights above. The goatherd munches his frugal meal in the shade of rock - shrines upon the Sacred Way from Athens to Eleusis, and small boys chase lizards in the Lernean marshes, where once the mighty Heracles hunted the hydra. Or, in the ancient city of Olympia, the would - be moralist may find opportu- nity for a sententious homily in the spectacle of an aged labourer who has crept from his neighbouring hovel to hoe contentedly the grass that has overgrown the ribbed tiles of the palaestra, where Greek peasant is a dishonest rogue, but there formerly, in the pride of glowing youth, the are black sheep in every fold, and in acountry Olympian wrestler trained his thews for the where the arm of the law is neither very strong - trial of the Games. nor very far-reaching it is natural that their numbers should be rather large. Perhaps the most striking, because the most obvious, feature of rural life in Greece is the sharp contrast between ancient and modern which is continually being forced upon the eye. Whatever be the true genealogical history of the modern Greeks (as to which there are several theories), it must be admitted that they do not seem naturally and spontaneously to fit the his- toric land they inhabit. It would certainly be difficult for any modern race to light its fires on the hearths of the mighty dead without appear- ing interlopers, but, even SO, the attempt to reconcile the modern Greek with his ancient surroundings jars, —— T he Contrasts are sharp and A PEASART HOKING WEEDS Aung THE RUINS OF OLYMPIA, WHRRE THE FAMOUS GAMES, often bizarre. At old Corinth, From a) WERE HELD. (Photograph. WOMEN WASHING CLOTHES IN THE SACRED FOUNTAIN OF PIKENE. From a Photograph.

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Ten Days Without Food. By Harvey P. Finvayson. The tragic story of an expedition which went in search of “a river that wasn’t there.” For ten days the party Lad no nourishment beyond water and the pulp of wild grasses, yet, wonderful to relate, all of them survived the experience. Mr. Finlayson’s narrative shows how dangerous it is to place reliance upon the productions of guess-work map-makers. ag OME years ago—in December, 1903, to be exact—I was engaged by a certain company to explore and open up several thousand square miles of country in the Northern ‘Territory of South Australia. Two explorers had, many years previously, been through the region, but the time they spent in it was so short that their maps were misleading. Indeed, had they been correct this narrative would never have been written. I started from a station in the south with five white men, four black followers, and one hundred and twenty horses. It had been pre- . viously arranged that a boat should be in waiting for me in a navigable river on the coast, with food, tents, and’ so forth. Our blankets, cooking ————————— returned from one of these journeys we were greeted with the news that the steamer was back again. She had dropped one of the directors of the company, who had come to look at things in general, and gone to a river about one hundred miles to the eastward, which, according to the map, ran due south for some two hundred miles. Finding out where the director was, I went to interview him, and he informed me that he wanted me to take him across country to the river in which the steamer was lying and follow its course till we found her. For some reason he was in a violent hurry, and wished to start at once, despite the fact that I had just come in from six days’ exploration. It was about 10 a.m. when I left the director, and I immediately in- structed the man who utensils, and food were carried on pack-horses in the ordinary way. The trip up to the coast was more or less un- eventful. On_ several occasions we had trouble with the wild blacks, but this is always to be expected. On our arrival at the appointed place we found that the boat had arrived, landed all the stores brought for us, and gone back for one more load, leaving two white men in charge of our supplies. I fully anticipated that they would have brought tents, as the wet season was commencing, but they had not done so, and as the wet season usually means eighteen or twenty hours’ rain out of the twenty-four, for several weeks on end, we had something to look forward to. While waiting for the return of the boat (a small hundred-ton steamer) I explored all the country to the west of our camping-ground, always taking at least one white man with me and remaining out several days. When we ———————————eeE THE AUTHOR, MR. HARVEY P, FINLAYSON, WHO WENT FOR TEN DAYS WITHOUT FOOD WHILE EXPLORING IN AUSTRALIA, From a Photograph. had been away with me to see that flour, tea, sugar, beef, etc., were put into the pack-bags, while I went down to the yard and picked out fresh horses for our trip. The director had enough personal bag- gage to fill a wagon, but we eventually got what he actually wanted packed .on one of the horses and started off at 12.30 p.m., having first partaken of a meal of damper and_ beef, washed down with strong milkless tea. The country through which we intended travelling was absolutely unknown to us, but if the map was right—and I never doubted it—we should strike the river of which we were in search by heading due east. We had not ridden five miles, through a very swampy region, when we came to a channel about twenty yards wide and Heaven only knows how deep. Somehow, however, we got across safely, and rode on for four hours through water varying in depth from six inches to three feet. We decided to camp when we arrived at

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TEN DAYS WITHOUT FOOD. 581 the first rising ground, which we did near sun- down. We had been in the saddle about six hours, but, owing to the deviations made to avoid swamp-channels, jungles, and other obstacles, I reckoned we had covered only about fifteen miles from our starting-point as the crow flies. We unpacked, off-saddled and hobbled the no sign-of food. At last I lost patience, and shouted to Jack, “ Which pack was the tucker put in?” “T dunno,” he replied. fix things up.” “Well,” I said, “he hasn’t.” And I was right. There was not a particle of “I told the cook to “1 LOOKED IN ONE PACK-BAG AFTER ANOTHER, BUT COULD SEE NO SIGN OF FOOD,” horses, and the man I had brought—Jack by name—made the fire; while I, after finding a comparatively dry place for my blankets, opened the pack- bags to spread out supper. The director was loudly bewailing his fate; his clothes were wet, also the blankets he had to sleep under. We had no tent; and the rain, which had been falling steadily nearly all afternoon, showed no signs of abating. But worse than rain was to come. I looked in one pack-bag after another, but could see food in the whole outfit. Jack swore, and I heartily agreed with him, but the hapless director did not quite seem to understand what was wrong. At last, when he realized that there was no supper for him, he wanted to know what we were going to do next. I thought it over, and decided that it was no use turning back ; by the time we reached the camp we should be nearly at the boat if we kept straight on. The director inquired dolefully when I expected to get to the boat.

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582 “ About midday the day after to-morrow,” I told him. “And sha’n’t we have anything to eat till then?” he asked, plaintively. I replied that we should probably be able to shoot something on the morrow, but even if we did not it only meant going hungry for about twelve hours longer than if we returned to the camp. After much complaining we all turned in. About every half-hour throughout the night the poor director woke me up to tell me that the water was running over his blanket, or an ant had bitten him, that he was hungry and could not sleep, or that he could hear wild blacks coming to attack us. I do not think any of us were sorry when daylight came and we got the horses in, packed our wet blankets, and made another start. It was still raining heavily at intervals, and so hot that we could not bear the weight of our oil- skin coats. About 11 a.m. we saw two native “companions ”—birds resembling a crane— stalking along about two hundred yards off. There is a heavy fine for anybody caught shoot- ing these birds; but we were hungry, and not frightened of anybody seeing us in that waste of water. ‘Reckon you could hit one of them?” 1 asked Jack. “Dunno,” he replied, doubtfully. better try.” It was decided by tossing a coin, and, as I lost the toss, I had to shoot. I took a long, steady aim, and succeeded in dropping the one I had not fired at. I took in modest silence the praise showered on me by both blacks and whites, and after retrieving the bird we decided to look for a spot where a fire could be lit and have a feed. It was well into the afternoon before we came to dry ground, but as soon as we did so we unpacked and let the horses feed on the grass. Jack quickly extracted that part of the bird which white men do not eat and gave it to the two black fellows, who fell upon it greedily. The trouble of plucking was got over by singeing off the feathers in the flames, the bird then being cut into three equal parts. Jack and I made little beds of red-hot ashes and, placing our portions on these, covered them up with more hot fuel. ‘Ihe director, hungry though he was, watched these proceed- ings with disgust plainly written on his face, but when he saw the result and got one whiff of the savoury odour he waited no longer, but fol- lowed our example, declaring afterwards that he had never tasted anything nicer, the only fault being the want of salt. After the meal, although our bodies were « You'd THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. soaking wet, our spirits rose considerably. I believe the director actually made a joke, for he laughed, and although we saw no joke we joined in the laugh; he was still our superior officer, although a participator in our troubles. It was late that night before we struck a camping-ground, and by that time all joking was knocked out of the great man. I reckoned we were now some fifty miles due east of our starting-place, and hoped to reach the river early the following afternoon. By this time tobacco had run out, matches were scarce, and things altogether were beginning to look blue. The next day we did not see any native companions nor, in fact, anything to shoot, neither did we come to the river. The third day—the second without food—we went through the same monotonous process of splashing through everlasting water. We came across two camps belonging to wild blacks, both of which appeared to have been hurriedly deserted, as weapons of various kinds had been left about. Either the natives had heard us coming or been warned of our approach by their wonderful smoke-signal arrangement. This night differed from the last in that we could not find any dry place to camp, although we rode till midnight and the horses were nearly dropping under us from fatigue. We slept, or rather lay down, in about three inches of water. During what was left of the night the director said nothing, but I have no doubt he resembled the parrot, in that he thought a great deal. On the fourth day we saw two kangaroos, but both had important business elsewhere, and after one glance in our direction went off like scalded cats. ‘The director's mood changed this day, and he became very talkative, if not compli- mentary. He cursed Jack, he cursed me, he cursed the black fellows, the horses, the country, the river we were in search of, and himself for coming at all. We said nothing, and were promptly accused of being dumb dogs. At this Jack passed a remark and was promptly told to “shut up.” It is evidently hard to please a hungry director. ‘That night we were in luck, inasmuch as we struck a dry camp about sundown, with plenty of firewood about. We held a council of war from under our mosquito nets and decided that the map must be wrong in making the river run due south; it must take a big bend to the eastward, and we were in this bend, We quite made up our minds that on the morrow we should strike it. Up and away at daybreak, to the accompani- ment of muttered curses from the director. About 9 a.m. I saw something which caused me to give voice to a faint cheer.

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TEN DAYS WITHOUT FOOD. 583 “What the deuce is the matter with you?” asked the director. “The river,” I replied, indicating a faint line of a certain timber some distance ahead. “T can’t see any river,” he said, savagely. I told him that that particular timber grew nowhere but on the banks of running streams. He told me bluntly that he did not believe there was any river there, but when, a little later, I led him to the steep bank of a broad stream, he shook hands and begged my pardon. Seeing in his mind’s eye a good meal on the steamer in the near future, he visibly expanded and told us what luxuries he had on board and what an excel- lent dinner we should all shortly enjoy. “Which way now?” he asked at last. “North,” I replied ; “she will be nearer the coast than this.” We accordingly turned in that direction and rode on, all thinking deeply except the direc- tor, who warbled joyfully. After about an hour's riding I noticed Jack glance up at the sun several times. I did the same. “By Jove!” I said, “ we are travelling east again!” It was perfectly. true, but worse was coming. We turned from east to south -east and eventu- ally were going south. Neither Jack nor I spoke for some time, but the director, unconscious of trouble, was still singing merrily. At last I saw on a sandy bit of ground on the other side of the stream our own fresh horse-tracks going north ; I called a halt. " “What's up now ?” asked the director. “Nothing much,” I replied ; “ only this isn’t our river.” It took a considerable time to convince the great man that our faces were turned south, and even then he persisted that we were going right. Then I told him that Z was going east, and he could either come along or go to—well, somewhere warm. After a few moments’ thought he obstinately decided on the latter course. We caught his pack-horse, gave him the lead-line, and left him. Needless to say, we had not proceeded a mile when the director caught us up, saying that, although he knew we were going wrong, he had decided to go wrong with us. We were not overjoyed, but did not mention the fact. The lie of the country had altogether changed before night, and the director received still another shock. About 4 p.m. we found it necessary to scramble up the side of a small ARNHEM BAY z TE POINT AT whey) GULF OF k CARPENTARIA MAP SHOWING THE ROUTE TAKEN BY THE EXPLORERS ON THEIR TEN DAYS’ JOURNEY. mountain on to a tableland, and as this kept in the right direction we remained on the top. ‘The travelling was better for the horses, but there was no water, not even for drinking pur- poses, and we were obliged to camp thirsty as well as hungry. Owing to the persistent nagging of the director we were up and away by 3 a.m., but did not reach any water till long after sun- tise. ‘This—the fifth day without food—and the following one were much the same as the fourth, as we were riding along the top of the tableland, and water was scarce all the time. The reader must not imagine, because I have said nothing much about our sufferings, that we did not endure agonics from the deprivation of

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584 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. food. I often felt inclined to kill and eat one of the horses, and I am sure the others felt the same; but if any of my readers have ever endured prolonged hunger they will be able to bear me out when I say that the worst thing about it is the extraordinary lassitude and want of energy it causes; one gets into the way of suffering apathetically. If any of us had sug- gested eating horseflesh I have no doubt we should have done it, nor have I any doubt that we should have been driven to this course in any case had our plight become worse, but as it was we simply dragged on from day to day without doing it. Looking back upon it now, it seems to me incredibly stupid that we did not utilize the horseflesh, but the fact remains that we didn’t. It must be remembered, however, that we were always hoping that the next few hours would see the end of our troubles. In the swampy country high grass grows, which, if seized at the top and judiciously pulled, breaks away near the ground, leaving on the end a small portion of soft, juicy pulp. This we chewed wherever we got the chance, but, as several thousand pieces would have to be pulled in order to obtain a single pound oi pulp, the sustenance was slight in the extreme. Strange to say, the pangs of hunger were felt most on the second and third days; afterwards only a dull ache and the aforementioned acute lassitude troubled us. By this time, needless to say, we were all very weak, and on the morning of the sixth day the director said he was not strong enough to saddle his horse (he had never helped us with the pack-horses), and asked Jack to do it for him. Jack’s answer was brief but to the point, our sufferings had not improved our tempers The sixth day passed, and we had only ridden a few miles on the seventh when the appearance of the country began to seem strangely familiar. It struck Jack the same way, and I asked my black boy, who was fairly intelligent, what the meaning of it was. “Close up salt water,” was his laconic reply, and we knew that we were nearing the Gulf of Carpentaria. The river we were searching for either did not exist, or, at any rate, was not so long as the map made it out to be. I told the director this, and informed him that, as a last resource, I intended to ride back to the main camp as quickly as possible and recoup before trying to find the river and the steamer. I am sorry to say that the important person did not bear his troubles bravely, but shed bitter tears, saying that he would never see his wife again. The two black boys, who had up to this time behaved very well, now broke down. One of them was in such a state from weakness and exhaustion that we found it necessary to strap him to the saddle to save him from falling off. That ghastly return ride will long remain fresh in my memory. We kept going almost day and night, trusting mostly to the horses to take the most direct route back. Now and then we -stopped for a few hours to give the animals a rest, and they snatched mouthfuls of grass as we rode along and kept themselves alive in this way. Hours would pass without a word being exchanged, while we suffered in silence the tortures of acute hunger. On several occasions we saw kangaroos and wallabies, but they were all very frightened and did not stop to be shot at, while the horses were too leg-weary for us to be able to gallop anything down. On the tenth day—the ninth without food—we came upon a blacks’ camp, which must have been deserted a very short while, as the camp fires were burning brightly. ‘ Here the director swallowed his dignity ; he got off his horse and began looking in the bark huts. “What are you after?” I asked. “Something—anything to eat,” he replied, hoarsely. In almost the last place he searched he found a dirty bag full of small round roots. He ate some first, and afterwards asked what they were. I took one, cut it in half, and smelt it. “This,” I informed him, “is a root found on the edge of swamps and used by the blacks as a medicine after an exceptionally large feast.” It is as well to pass over our companion’s subsequent experience. This camp was, I reckoned, about sixty miles from our haven, and we made no stop after leaving it. Several times the poor director fell asleep— the sleep of utter prostration—and tumbled from his horse. Jack and I also went to sleep, but from force of habit stuck on. It was the middle of the afternoon when we arrived at the camp, and while still some dis- tance off I yelled to the cook to get a big feed ready, as we were starving. ‘There were many ready hands to unpack and off-saddle the horses, and we retired to change our clothes and get a wash preparatory to the big feed. When we met at the bush table we expected to do wonders with the eatables. I took a mouth- ful of corned beef and “‘ pig weed,” but, although I had no difficulty in chewing it, I found it absolutely impossible to swallow. The other two were in a similar plight, and after a gallant struggle we gave it up and decided to turn in. We slept till late the following morning, by which time our “swallows” had remembered how to work. That same afternoon, feeling almost ourselves

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TEN DAYS WITHOUT FOOD. 585 “THE YOOK DIKECTOR FELL ASLEEP AND TUMBLED FROM Mis HOKE.” again, Jack and I started out once more in search of the river and steamer. ‘The director did not come with us, but decided to wait at the camp till we had found she boat and sent it round to the spot at which it had dropped him. On this occasion we did not go eastward, but northward, to the coast, which we followed along till we found the river, and shortly afterwards the boat. What happened on our first search was this. The men who were responsible for the map had come across a river running from the south into the sea, They did not follow this river up, but went in a south-easterly direction for some days. They then changed their plans and travelled in a south-westerly direction. While going along Vol. xx.—74, in this way they struck another river, which they took to be the same they had first seen running into the sea, and so marked it on their map. As a matter of fact, this second stream ran into the swamps. What we had dove was to ride between the beginning of one river and the end of the other. The river we had struck and followed was the one which ran out into the swamp, and we had gone right round the end of it. To this day that director swears that we tried to do away with him, nor will he listen to reminders that the rest of us had no more to eat than he had. He often tells the story, but has no intention of collecting material for a fresh one by participating in any more exploration trips.

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ILLUMINATING NIAGARA. By Haroip J. SHEPSTONE. All about a unique project whereby the mighty cataract is made to light itself up at night by electricity, affording a spectacle ot unequalled magnificence and beauty. row see the Niagara Falls at their Sea) best one has now to inspect them ] at night, when the great expanse of Bea! falling water is lit up by beautiful coloured lights. It is the greatest illuminating feat ever attempted, and a sight, once seen, never to be forgotten. For years the people at Niagara have talked over the possibilities of making the falls attractive at night by illuminating them, but for a long time the problem baffled them. Visitors arriving in the neighbourhood of the falls late in the evening have nothing particular to entertain them ; they cannot see the falls, though, of course, they can hear the ceaseless roar of the waters. Various schemes have been suggested to make the great cataract attractive at night, but it was left to Mr. Anthony C. Douglass, the genial Mayor of the City of Niagara Falls, to show how the feat of illuminating the falls could be accomplished. He deserves the greatest praise for his enterprise, for it is possible now to see Niagara at night bathed in the most gorgeous colours. Strictly speaking, there are two distinct waterfalls at Niagara. The river is split in two by a rocky outcrop known as Goat Island. The Canadian side is known as the Horseshoe or Canadian Fall, with a descent of a hundred and fifty-eight feet and a width of two thousand six hundred and forty feet, while on the other side of the island is the second cataract, the American Fall, one hundred and sixty-two feet deep, with a width of about a thousand feet. The volume of water that sweeps over these two MR. ANTHONY C. DOUGLASS, MAYOR OF THE CITY OF NIAGARA FALLS, TO WHOM THIS UNIQUE ENTFR?KISE OWES ITS INCEPTION, From a Photo, by Brickerr. chasms is about fifteen million cubic feet a minute. It was on September 2nd last that the falls were illuminated for the first time in their history. This feat was accomplished by the use of powerful searchlights. In all fifty search- lights were used, specially made for the purpose by the General Electric Company, the majority of them being equipped with thirty-inch projectors. They were placed in the necessary position by Mr. W. D’A. Ryan, illuminating engineer to the General Electric Company. One “light battery,” so to speak, consisting of twenty- one searchlights, was planted in the gorge on the Canadian side of the river, near the Ontario Power Station. The lamps were arranged in the form of a crescent, their work being to light up both the American and the Horseshoe Falls. The second battery was placed on the cliffs above the power station, to throw their dazzling beams of light upon the upper portions of the falls, while a third bat- tery was set up in Victoria Park to assist in lighting up the American Falls. The necessary power to operate the searchlights was generated by the falls themselves, so it was in reality a case of Niagara lighting itself. It required three hundred electrical lorse-power to operate the plant, and the effect of the com- bined searchlights was to throw out a light equal to two hundred million candle-power. It is almost impossible for the lay mind to realize what two hundred million candle-power rays mean, but some idea of the blinding radiance may be gauged from an inspection

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ILLUMINATING. NIAGARA. 587 ONE OF THE “BATTERIES” OF SEARCHLIGHTS IN POSITION—THE NECESSARY POWER TO OPERATE THF LIGHTS WAS GENERATED BY THE FALLS THEMSELVES. From a Photograph. of the striking photographs we reproduce. In order to make the illuminations more attractive, the new “colour scintillator,” which consists of a circular frame containing coloured gelatine discs, was used in connection with the searchlights. By means of this device the great beams of light can be tinted with any colour at the will of the operator. Thus, on the eventful night, a soft white light was first thrown on the American and Horseshoe Falls. The spectators stood dumbfounded. They had never witnessed such a spectacle before. It looked as if the waters that plunged over the famous chasm had been converted into a silvery mass of molten metal. The onlookers would have been satisfied at what they had already seen, but greater wonders were in store for them. Suddenly, as if by magic, the tumbling white waters were changed into the deepest of blues. This colour was followed by green, then yellow, red, and violet. Next darkness reigned for a few moments ; then a small portion of the falls was lit up by a powerful white ray, the succeeding portion by a blue, and so on, until some dozen different- coloured waters were seen tumbling over the same ledge. Then the scheme was reversed. White rays played along the ridge of the cas- cade, while a few feet below the waters were of a different colour, and so on, until» the bottom of the falls was reached. Such. har- mony, such blending, was never witnessed before, the ever-moving, dancing spray-cloud creating effects that were fascinating _and dazzling in the extreme. The intermingling of the colours surpassed all rainbow effects ever seen by day in this place of wondrous water beauties. “No author has yet been able to describe the grandeur of the effect,” said Mr. Douglass to the writer, and he is certainly correct. It would require a Tennyson to do the scene justice. The ordinary imagination fails in its attempt to describe the beauties of the flying

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THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THE AMERICAN FALL ILLUMINATED—" IT LOOKED AS THOUGH THE WATERS HAD BEEN CONVERTED INTO A SILVERY MASS OF MOLTEN From a) METAL.” (Photograph. mists and tumbling waters when illuminated or blue its glory was beyond description. A from the outer darkness with all the splendour decidedly charming effect was seen at the and glory of the great Northern Lights. The Horseshoe when red, white, and blue rays were Horseshoe Fall afforded a magnificent oppor- flashed on different sections of the waters. tunity for using a solid colour, and either in red After the rays had been turned upon the A DISTANT VIEW OF THE CANADIAN FALL. [ Photograph,

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ILLUMINATING NIAGARA. 589 waters for some time a number of bombs were discharged. The result of these explosives was the formation of smoke-clouds. As soon as these clouds appeared the searchlights in the gorge battery were at once turned upon them. The ascending smoke produced an artificial cloud effect that rendered possible wonderful colour reflections. In some instances these cloud effects resembled star-clusters, and were altogether very beautiful. Occasionally the powerful electric rays were projected on to the famous steel bridge that spans the gorge below the falls, completely out- lining the whole gigantic structure of steel and revealing the crowds gathered there to see the illuminations. Then the beams of light were thrown on the rapids below the falls, the effect in this instance being very grand. Presently the whole of the searchlights threw their beams upwards into the sky. These great white bars of light were visible a hundred miles away ; indeed, they were faintly seen at Syracuse, a hundred and fifty miles distant ! As already stated, the falls were illuminated for the first time on September 2nd last. In order to install the necessary plant, Mr. Douglass, the enterprising Mayor of Niagara Falls City, raised a fund of a thousand pounds. With this sum he was able to illuminate the falls for an hour nearly every night for a month. At the moment of writing he is busy making prepara- tions for the installation of a permanent plant, which is to be in operation early in 1908. This plant will be more powerful than the experi- mental one described, and it is computed that it will cost twenty thousand pounds and require six hundred pounds a year to operate it. But, as Mr. Douglass points out, it should be the means of attracting thousands of people to Niagara to see the unique spectacle. The natural beauties of the great waterfall seen by daylight are impressive enough, but this new departure enhances them a thousand-fold, while a spectacle that remains “on show” day and night cannot fail to appeal to the “hustling” tourist with irresistible force. THE SEARCHLIGHTS THROWING THEIR TWO-HUNDRED-MILLION CANDLE-POWER RAYS INTO THE SKY—THE GREAT From a) BLAZE OF LIGHT WAS VISIBLE A HUNDRED MILES AWAY! (Photograph,

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Birds of a Feather. By Maurice VERNON. The amusing story of a young American newspaper correspondent who was sent to Paris to write up an important case for a New York paper. He duly carried out his mission; but in the course of it he met with an adventure that was not in the schedule of his regular duties. HAD been for some three years on the staff of the Mew York Daily News when one morning the managing editor sent for me. Our interview was short, and quite different from what I expected. It so happened that for some weeks the newspapers had been printing details of a motor accident in France in which a prominent American millionaire named Fair and his wife had been killed. Both had met death almost instantaneously, yet millions of dollars depended on which had actually expired first. Had Mrs. Fair been the first to succumb, her husband’s vast wealth would revert back to his family. Should the reverse have been the case, the relatives of Mrs. Fair would naturally be the beneficiaries. The only person who could throw any light whatever on the matter was Mr. Fair’s chauffeur, who, although badly injured, survived the accident. This man told all he knew, but medical evidence in various ways controverted his evidence, so it looked as though a big case for the law courts must follow ; as a matter of fact, it did follow. The editor asked me: “ Have you followed the Fair case closely ?” I answered that I had. “Well,” he continued, “there seems to be more in the business than the cabled accounts show. Mr. Walsh (the cashier) will give you what you require. Go over and see what you can dig up. Good morning.” ‘There was no opportunity for argument with the great man, so on my way down I stopped at the cashier’s office. He had_ evidently received his instructions, for he handed to me an order on the American Line for a first-class return passage to Southampton and a traveller’s cheque on Messrs. Thomas Cook and Son. I went home, had a sleep, and then, packing my steamer trunk, sailed next day on the steamship New York, It may be well to state here, perhaps, that my regular “assignment” on the Daly Nezs was “police work,” which consists in “covering ” police head-quarters and everything which promises good “copy” in connection with crime and the detective department. In this manner I had become familiar with the daings and methods of clever “crooks” of all descrip- tions, and many of the gentry whose business it is to relieve other people of their money and valuables were known to me. Card-sharpers, “second story men,” bank burglars, confidence- trick exponents, and specialists in many other criminal “lines” had at different times figured in cases under my notice, and on many occa- sions I had worked with detectives —as all police reporters do in the States—on jobs promising interesting stories. In due course I arrived at Southampton, for, having first to see a certain gentleman in London, I did not disembark at Cherbourg. Eventually I reached Paris, where I registered at the Hotel Continental. P Less than an hour afterwards something happened. I had gone to my room to change my clothes, and was just about to return to the office below, when a gentleman met me in the hall. He gave me a sharp glance; then walked over towards me with outstretched hand. “Why—halloa, Murphy!” he cried ; “when did you come over?” “You are mistaken,” I answered ; “my name is not Murphy.” : “Surely I can’t be,” he replied, in amazement. “ Aren’t you Will Murphy, of St. Louis?” “No,” I replied. The man seemed thunderstruck that he could have been so mistaken. He apologized politely for his error, however, and came down in the lift with me, still remarking on my resemblance to Mr. Murphy. Now this is one of the oldest “gags” practised by confidence-trick men in picking up “ mugs,” for usually the victim replies, “ No, my name is not Murphy, but So-and-so,” giving his own name. Confederate Number One imparts this information to Number Two, who later hails the person by his real name, and manages to convince him that they are known to each other. I did not suspect my questioner on

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BIRDS OF A FEATHER. 591 this occasion, however, for he could easily have obtained my name from the hotel register : moreover, he didn’t look the part. After getting something to eat I walked out into the Rue Rivoli for a moment, but soon returned to the hotel balcony, where I sat listen- ing to the band. Suddenly the tall man who had: previously accosted me, accompanied by another, both in evening dress, came toward me. The first man said laughingly, “ You really must excuse me, but your resemblance to my friend Murphy is simply marvellous, and this gentleman can hardly convince himself that you are not our townsman.” The second person now intro- duced himself, and both took seats at my table. I began to “get next” to the game, as the saying is, and thought I would see just what speciality this twain “worked.” I therefore allowed them to “get busy.” They in- sisted on my having a bottle of wine with them, and _ presently the second of the two excused himself and left us for a minute. No sooner had he gone than the tall man leant over to me and murmured confidentially,‘ Of course, you know who our friend MR. MAURICE I apologized for my ignorance. “Why, that’s John H. Coates, the St. Louis millionaire,” he replied. This was what, in police parlance, is called “sending a man in,” or gaining a prospective victim’s confidence by overwhelming him with the supposed importance of a confederate. As was evidently expected of me, I expressed my gratification at meeting so illustrious a country- man, and when Mr. “Coates” returned I let him believe that he had risen greatly in my estimation. The two men exchanged a meaning glance, as though to say, ‘“ This fellow is easy.” After a time they suggested we should visit Maxim’s, a prominent Parisian resort, and insisted that I should be their guest. Now this, it seems to me, is a silly thing for these people to do so consistently, for a man, however simple, must wonder why strangers are so eager to give him a good time at their expense. I let them think I was delighted, however, and accompanied .the pair to Maxim’s. Sure enough, my money might as well have been counterfeit, for’ they would not permit me to spend a penny. Shortly after our arrival at Maxim’s a third “wise man” appeared. He was introduced as “Mr. Vanderbilt’s manager.” I said I was glad to meet the gentleman, and in a short time, as “engagement as an excuse. VERNON, WHO HERE RELATES fHI5 ADVENTURES IN PARIS we ?” WITH A GANG OF AMFRICAN “CROOKS.” 's From a Photograph. I had expected, the “game” began to manifest itself. A certain horse was to run on the morrow, and Mr. “Coates” intimated casually that he knew the owner, and that it was a sure winner. He intended having a small wager on it—“ only a matter of ten thousand francs.” Nothing more was said about horses, but when we returned to the hotel I was invited to go racing the next day. Mr. ‘Coates’ ” motor would call for me, I was informed. I excused myself, however, giving a business I should like to have gone with them, but I had something else to do. Nevertheless, that even- ing my new “friends” — two of them at least—cornered me again, and after another pleasant even- ing (at their expense) I promised to “go racing ” the following day. Arrived at the course, Long- ‘champs, my “friends” steered me into the grand - stand, and “Mr. Vanderbilt’s manager ” left us to see what “information ’ he could get. He returned shortly, his face all smiles. “ Looks like a good thing,” he said on his return. ‘I have wagered five thousand francs for myself and you two (addressing the others), and —he turned to me—I took the liberty of putting on a thousand for you.” I objected strenuously, saying he should at least have put on an equal amount for me. This somewhat staggered him, as usually a victim objects to having unwittingly wagered at all! They exchanged a glance as though to say, “Well, we Aave got a green bird here.” Presently the self-appointed commissioner again left us, saying he would “put on some more for me.” The horse, of course, finished where they always do, and I was, apparently, five thousand francs in my adviser’s debt. However, that was a mere bagatelle, for I told him to bet the same amount on the next race for me with “ his bookmaker.” Well, to make a long story short, at the end of the day I was in the trio’s debt to the extent of thirty thousand francs (one thousand two hundred pounds). Being Sunday, I expressed sorrow at not being able to give them a cheque for so trivial an amount, but promised to meet them the next day. This was quite all right, they assured me, effusively. They felt certain they had picked up a cherry-ripe victim, and even offered to lend me some money ! : Next day my journalistic duties took me out

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592 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. of Paris to the scene of the accident, and it was Tuesday ere I returned to my hotel, after having interviewed those first on the scene at the time of Mr. and Mrs. Fair’s death. The infor- mation gleaned necessitated a return visit, one of the witnesses having been “lost” through the energy of a solicitor engaged by one of the contending families. When I reached the hotel I found the card of one of the sharpers in my letter-box—they were not guests of the hotel. On the slip of pasteboard was written: “ Dear Mr. Vernon,—Will see you to-night. I have given Mr. Williams a cheque for your indebted- ness, so the little matter is between us.— (Signed) Leslie ”—my tall friend. I had much work to do, and the subject dropped temporarily from my mind. I walked to the cable offices near the Grand Hotel to send my matter off, and as I was leaving Mr. “Leslie” stepped up to me as though the meet- ing was quite accidental. ‘“ Halloa! old man,” he cried, “I was just going to my club to write a few letters. I am off to London to-morrow night, so if you will let me have that little cheque——” I expressed my sorrow, saying that I should not have my next cheque from home for two weeks, and could not possibly oblige him. He demurred at this, saying, somewhat forcibly, that he had settled for me “like a gentleman,” and expected me to do likewise. I decided that the farce had now gone far enough, and accordingly I turned loose upon him a string of very expressive language thoroughly familiar to his kind, for it teemed with expressions in use by “grafters.” I never saw a man so astounded in my life. He almost fell against some chairs on the terrace in front of the Café de la Paix, and, placing one hand to his forehead, stammered out, “ What’s this? I— I don’t understand !” Then, still using my thieves’ slang, I told him that I was “one of the boys” myself, and that he and his friends had backed a loser. The look on Mr. “ Leslie’s” face was too funny for words ; everything seemed to swim before his bulging eyes. He tried to speak, but words apparently failed him, for, turning suddenly, he walked away without a word. Had the matter ended here I should have been quite satisfied, but it didn’t. These three discomfited craftsmen learned my business in Paris, and made up their minds to be revenged. The next day I received a note from them saying that the sum of five hundred francs had been spent on my entertainment, and unless I refunded this something might happen. I paid no attention to the document, but spoke of the matter to some of my newspaper friends, and they advised me to keep a sharp look-out during the remainder of my stay in Paris. Two days before my return to New York I was walking near the Arc de Triomphe, when I was suddenly attacked from behind. An arm was thrown around my neck, I received a violent blow on the chin, then all was darkness. Recovering consciousness some time later, I found myself in a closed votture. Seated opposite to me were Mr. “Coates” and “ Mr. Vanderbilt’s manager.” “You thought you were clever, didn’t you?” said Mr. “Coates,” mockingly. ‘Well, you'll have a ‘bill of goods’ delivered to you now that a greyhound couldn’t leap over.” My arms were free, but Mr. “Coates” held a Smith and Wesson revolver uncomfortably near me, the business end pointed my way, so I thought prudence the better part of valour. “You'll wish you had sent us that five hun- dred,” continued ‘“ Coates,” “for it will cost you a long sight more than that now, and a good hiding besides.” This was cheerful news, but I could offer no reasonable argument, so I remained quiet. Presently the cab stopped in some street over the Seine, and apparently I was expected, for Conspirator Number Three came towards the vehicle, looked in, and smiled at me. “You had a lovely time with us, didn’t you?” he sneered. ‘Bet some more for me, eh?—and supper.at Maxim’s? I'll hand you a receipt in full when I get you inside.” This was more good news for me. I can laugh now, but I didn’t that evening, believe me. The cab door was opened; I was taken by either arm and virtually shot inside the entrance of a low-class drasserie, or drinking saloon, evidently frequented by chevaliers d’industrie and their like. Walking me into a back room (there was only a man, whom I took to be the proprietor, and an assistant in the place), Mr. “Coates” locked the door and proceeded to take off his coat. It really looked as though I was going to enjoy myself—hugely. Next Mr. “Leslie,” while the others held my arms, “ went through me.” I had only a few francs in my pockets, and no valuables beyond my traveller's cheque, which I carried in a small morocco case. “You played us well, but you're going to settle for it,” cried “Leslie.” ‘Now, you sign this and fill it in for two thousand francs to pay us for our trouble, or it will go hard with you. If we get the coin you can go to-morrow ; if we don’t, it will not matter much to you if you never go.” : Then Mr. “Coates” chimed in: “It’s not the money, but the trick you played us,” he explained ; “and we mean to get even.”

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BIRDS OF A FEATHER. “AN ARM WAS THROWN AROUND MY NECK, I RECEIVED A VIOLENT BLOW ON THE I saw that the trio meant business, so I did as I was told. “Coates” looked at me angrily for a moment, and then continued: “I really ought to give you a good hiding, but we'll await results on this cheque.” The third man now left the room, while “Leslie” and Coates” decided that 1 was to have my hands tied and be roped to some wooden bars on which rested a large cask of claret. Suddenly the third man came back. “Louis ” (the proprietor of the place) “ won’t stand for it,” he declared; “he says it will mean trouble.” “ All right,” answered “Coates”; “take him . Vol. xx.— 75. CHIN, THEN ALL WAS DARKNESS.” to our room then and pack our things. We need not go back.” “Leslie” now went out and hailed a cab, and when it arrived I was led outside ; I heard them tell the cabman that they were officers and had a suspect in their charge. We were driven to a small hotel in the Rue de Moscow, near the Gare St. Lazare Station, and I was escorted up two flights of stairs into the room of the men. Here I was tied hand and foot, while “Leslie” gathered their belongings and packed them in three large portmanteaus. “You're putting us to a lot of trouble about so petty an amount,” he said to me, “but if it

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594 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. were only ten francs we would not let > you have the laugh against us.” Now it seems that the proprietor of the little drasserie where these men usually met, and to which I had been taken, had gleaned somehow or ‘other that I was on the staff of a news- paper, and, being afraid of the con- sequences, made up his mind that he would wash his hands of the affair. He, therefore, sent his man to follow the cab in which I was taken away. This man, Jules Merlot by name, returned to his employer with the desired informa- tion, whereupon the latter went direct to the nearest police- station and told there what had happened. When the three “crooks” were ready to leave they informed the concierge that they would be absent until morning, and that “their friend,” meaning me, ‘was drunk and had been left to sleep it off.” Before departing they placed a sponge in my mouth and tied a large silk hand- kerchief over it, “Leslie” saying I was quite safe, and that the moment they had the money he would come and turn me loose. “I don’t think you'll squeal to the police,” he said; “we are going to get even, and I think you'll call it a draw—eh?” They left me securely tied, with the lamp in the room turned low, and, locking the door, were about to descend the stairs, when I heard a terrible racket in the hall. The door was quickly opened, and “ Leslie” ran to the bed, cut my bonds, and removed the gag, thrusting the things under the mattress. “It’s a pinch,” he said, hurriedly ; “‘ now be a good fellow and don’t squeal. I'll see you get your cheque back.” I sat up, and for the life of me couldn’t help laughing. Through the doorway came Mr. “Coates” and “Mr. Vanderbilt’s manager,” accompanied by four police in uniform and two other men. I spoke at that time very little “LESLIE” RAN TO THE BED, CUT MY BONDS, AND REMOVED THE GAG.” French, so could not explain matters. We were therefore taken to the station. Here I was taken in hand by a detective officer who spoke English (M. Lebron), but, as I believed the three had had quite enough “hard luck,” I told a plausible tale about a quarrel between the four of us, and, as the officers could learn nothing different, we were all reluctantly released. Out- side “Coates” came up to me. “Say,” he said, earnestly, ‘why didn’t you tell us in the first place you knew our business? We would have dropped you then. But there's no hard feeling ; Jet’s havea drink.” We did have one, my cheque was returned to me, and I drove back to my hotel. I heard nothing further about the sharpers until quite recently, when I read in the papers that two of the men had been sent to prison for life in France for robbery committed at night in the villa of Count Martigny. whom they had previously also swindled. The third man— “Mr. Vanderbilt’s manager ”—received only six years, as it was his first conviction, whereas his two accomplices had been convicted four times previously for card-sharping and swindling,

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The Great Goldfields “Beer Strike.” By JoHN MARSHALL, OF KALGOORLIE, WESTERN AUSTRALIA. An amusing phase of life on the Western Australian goldfields. The miners thought that they were being charged too much for their beer, so they held a great meeting and decided to abstain from all strong liquors until the publicans reduced their prices. For thirteen days this unique “ strike” was kept up; then “the trade’’ gave way and arranged a compromise. AR from the busy haunts of men, in the outposts of civilization, many curious things happen—things which would keenly interest the home- “=~ keeping reader if he ever heard of them. Unfortunately, however, they are seldom written about, and it is only when THE WIDE Wor._D Macazine deals with one of these strange phases of life in the little-known corners of the earth that the general public learn any- thing about the matter. In such isolated centres many people become curiously narrow and parochial: Matters of little interest assume an importance which to the outsider appears altogether unjustifiable. A rather striking example of this lack of due sense of proportion—or so it may appear to some of my readers—is shown in the following narrative respecting the great “beer strike,” which took place at one of the “ back blocks ” mining towns in Western Australia—a strike that was unique in its way, and which, if measured by the importance it assumed in the eyes of those most deeply interested, is well worthy of description. The Australian miner is, as a rule, a sober, law- abiding person, most tenacious of his rights and liberties, who is apt to try and redress what he considers to be wrongs in a rough-and-ready but nevertheless eminently practical fashion. ‘The yellow metal, gold, exercises a most potent influence on his life, and to gain it he will cheer- fully endure hunger and hardship, brave danger, and defy death. Second only to the power « gold in the arid regions where he plies his que: is the power of beer. This need not b wondered at when it is remembered that th heat, dust, flies, and the ubiquitous sand ar simply intolerable in the summer-time, when th thermometer sometimes registers one hundre and ten degrees in the shade. Nature call imperatively for some relief from the insatiabl thirst induced by the heat and dust. On must drink or die, and, needless to say, th more agreeable alternative is the first. -Whe these facts are fully understood and appreciate: it will be seen how important it is fo the average mining man that beer should b plentiful and the price low. In the early day of goldfield history one shilling per glass wa asked and freely given for Colonial beer, anc good British ale was considered cheap at almos any price. As the fields grew older, however transport facilities increased, and every littl town boasted its own brewery, until the bee was reduced to sixpence per pint. In out-of-the way places, however, where men had to erec costly hotels and lessees had to pay big rent and huge ingoings, it is not to be wondered tha it was considered advisable to keep up toy prices. F In the town of Mount Morgans, one of th outlying goldfields centres, and distant abou thirty-eight miles from Malcolm, the terminu of the railway five years ago—at which place ; pint of beer cost one shilling—it began to b THE TOWNSHIP OF MOUNT MOKGANS, WHEKK THE GKBAT ‘ 6EBK STRIKE” ORIGINATED. From a Photo, by W. Roy Millar.

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596 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. whispered in the streets and in the mines at Morgans that an organized attempt was to be made to reduce the price of beer to sixpence, but such a bold statement was received with incredulity. For some time, however, the method of bringing about this much-desired re- duction was debated by the miners underground, and the wood carters and cutters on top, with a seriousness, earnestness, and vigour commen- surate with its importance—to them. In fact, it was a matter of such moment that for the time being the discussion of all other questions, moral, social, and political, was tabooed, and the highest energies of a proud and, for the gold- fields, a distinguished township were devoted to its solution. Many political talents, which he felt were lying dormant whilst a wholetown was being bled financially for shilling drinks. It was, or so it appeared to Crampton, an inspiration of genius. A strike for higher wages, or a lock-out to secure the acceptance of lower, was of common occurrence, but the idea of an organized strike in the interests of the working-classes for cheap beer was a unique experience. Full of his great scheme, John Crampton rushed to the hotel and, borrowing pen, ink, and paper, penned the mani- festo which was to liberate the miners from the hated thraldom of purse-proud publicans. This document opened with a declaration of the existing grievances, their remedy, and the neces- private conferences were held and much discussion took place, but the hotel-keepers, who were the masters of the situation, refused point-blank to enter- tain the idea of lower- ing the price of beer ; to threats and entreaties alike they turned a deaf ear. The history of small towns, no less than of mighty nations, shows that in the hour of their greatest need a man arises to free them from the gall of in- justice and tyranny. And though to the out- side world the price of beer at the fair town of Mount Morgans might appear a matter of little moment, to those who lived theré the issues at stake seemed to be of suprente moment, and the “ Village Hampden” arose in the person of one John Crampton. This great strategist, whose name will live long in goldfield history, recognising the fact that the weather was, for the locality, rather cold, and the Mount Morgans people’s thirst consequently at a minimum, thought the season a fitting one to burst the bonds and free his fellows from the yoke of the publicans’ rapacity. In silence he had brooded on the miners’ “wrongs” and the way to rectify them, but all his schemes had, up to date, been frustrated. Suddenly, like a flash of inspiration, came the idea that a great “beer strike” would be the Archimedean lever to lift his fellows to an equal plane with the publicans, and provide a fitting arena for his A CAMEL-TRAIN OF PROVISIONS AND LIQUOR ON ITS WAY TO AN OUTLYING SETTLEMENT. From a Photo, by J. J. Dwyer. sity for every man who was willing to remove what was charactérized as a disgrace to free and independent Australians to do his part manfully. A meeting was called for the following Thurs- day evening at the street corner. Copies of the ukase were posted in prominent positions throughout the town, and excited knots of men might have been seen discussing the document, canvassing its merits and speculating as to its effects. Many hailed John as a deliverer who had risen up to lead the people against the brewers and their myrmidons, while others shook their heads and declared him to be an unprac- tical visionary. On the following evening there was a large crowd present at the appointed time. Never before in the history of the town had there been a question so eagerly discussed. Had a stranger, knowing nothing of the matter,

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A MASS MEETING OF DIGGERS LISTENING TO SPEECHES ON THE ALL-ABSORBING TOPIC. From a Photo. by J. J. Dwyer. ventured amongst the crowd, he would have concluded that nothing less than the fate of an empire hung in the balance. Punctually to the hour the chairman took his stand—appropriately enough, on a beer-barrel— and after a few preliminary remarks the hero of the occasion, the redoubtable John Crampton, stepped on to the rude rostrum and was greeted with enthusiasm by the crowd. In tones thrill- ing with sorrow and indignation he recounted the wrongs of the people and pictured the cold- blooded rapacity of men who could charge a shilling for a “pony” glass of what he was pleased to describe as “Colonial Wallop.” Judged by the effect his speech produced, Crampton’s oratory was of a very high order. The next speaker kept the crowd in roars of laughter with his witty sayings. resolution to the effect that the prices of liquor, especially beer and porter, were extortionate, and that the publicans should be asked to reduce them from one shilling to sixpence, giving them forty-eight hours to come to a decision. Failing their compliance a “strike” would be declared “on,” and every man present would solemnly pledge himself not to taste _ Strong liquor of any kind until he could pur- chase beer at sixpence per pint. If the publicans He moved.a . did not accede to the request of the miners th “strike” was to start at eight o’clock o1 Saturday evening. As there was no certainty, once the strike wa declared, whether they would be allowed t drink or not for days, it might even be fo weeks, every one who could raise the mone indulged rather freely that evening as a measur of precaution, and between Thursday night anc Saturday night the “trade” was unusually brisk A few minutes before eight o’clock on th Saturday evening, however, a committee fron the public meeting waited on each of the hote keepers to see if they. would reduce prices t sixpence, but each one gave a decided refusal As the clock struck eight p.m., therefore, th strike was declared “on,” and no man wa thenceforth to be permitted to purchase liquo under penalty of being declared “‘a traitor an a blackleg.” Pickets were posted at the door of each hotel, whose duty it was to warn ever) one against buying liquors of any kind. The publicans, who are usually looked upo as the most important men in a mining towr next to the mine “bosses,” suddenly foun themselves deserted by friend and foe alike, an if anyone, unable to forego his usual refrest ment, did venture into an hotel, he found himse!

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598 an object of contempt and derision, and was called unpleasant names. All Saturday night and far into Sunday morning the pickets kept watch and ward, so that comparatively few of the hundreds who stood around, with money in their pockets—it was the fortnightly pay-day— and a fierce, almost overmastering, thirst in their throats, could get a drink. At short intervals the sentinels were relieved, and many a thirsty soul who attempted to run the blockade and sneak in by the back door was ignominiously booted back by the vigilant and zealous pickets. And so the weary strike went on from day to day, the streets in front of the hotels continually patrolled by lynx-eyed scouts ever on the alert to take summary vengeance, should opportunity offer, on offending thirsty ones who sought to get a drink. The amount of self-sacrifice dis- played by some of the miners in their efforts to refrain from quenching their thirst was pro- digious. It was a case of ‘“ beer everywhere ”— hogsheads of it—“and not a drop to drink.” An old miner who went through the siege of Paris declared that he suffered more. during the “beer strike” in Mount Morgans than he did in Paris, as in the latter place he expected nothing, and was never disappointed, but in the former place it was simply maddening to have an eight-days-old thirst, one hundred and seven- teen degrees of heat under one’s waistcoat, money in one’s pocket, and to see the bright, sparkling beer in the well-lit bars, and yet to be debarred from going in for a drink. But there was no appeal from the mandate of a well- organized democracy, and all had to obey it At last, after the strike had lasted thirteen days, impressed by the wonderful self-sacrifice displayed no less than by the vigilant efforts U( ( \ L From a Photo. by) THK LEADER OF THE “STRIKR” ADDRESSING HIS FOLLOWERS. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. of the strikers, the publicans agreed to hold a conference at which both parties were repre- sented. A compromise was finally effected, by which a small glass of beer, to be designated a “Johnnie Crampton,” in honour of the genius who had organized the strike, was to be sold for sixpence, spirits to remain as before at a shilling per drink. The strike was declared “off,” and all the parties adjourned to an hotel, where, after the formal papers had been signed, they duly “buried the hatchet” in copious draughts of the hitherto-forbidden beverage. Great was the joy when the news that the “trade” had been beaten was circulated, and that—glorious privilege !— the poor man could now get sixpenny drinks. The tidings of the wonderful victory achieved by the Mount Morgans people in securing cheap beer spread all over the goldfields, and a succession of “strikes” took place at the various mining centres, in which the great struggle for cheap drinks was carried on with a zeal and an amount of self-denying enthusiasm worthy of what seemed, to them, such a great cause. At last, worn down by the determination of the hardy miners, the brewers and publicans “caved in,” and all over the great Coolgardie fields the amber ale that cheers, refreshes, and sometimes inebriates was reduced to sixpence per glass. Standing out above his fellows, the hero of the hour, the champion of the thirsty, the deliverer of the oppressed, was Johnnie Crampton, to whose memory there may one day be erected at Kalgoorlie, the metropolis of the goldfields, or, it may be, at Mount Morgans, the scene of his achievements, a statue on a lofty pedestal, bearing the touching legend: ‘To the glorious memory of Johnnie Crampton, who secured cheap beer for the people.”

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> MORE QUEER FIXES. So popular were the series of “« Queer Fixes” which we recently published, detailing out-of-the- ordinary happenings and remarkable predicaments, that we have decided to continue them. Below will be found a further instalment of a fascinating collection of narratives. X—THROUGH FIRE AND WATER. Top sy Ropert Scott anp Set Down sy H. A. Hamivron. Vv. Mw ERY few men, I should imagine, have been called upon to face death . under such peculiarly trying con- MMM) ditions as those which fell to the lot — of Mr. Robert Scott, late chief engineer of the steamer British Queen, on the occasion of the burning of his ship at the Phoenix Line pier in Hoboken, New Jersey. Completely worn out with suffering and sleep- lessness, due to a severe attack of rheumatism, he had lain down in his room and dropped off into a sound sleep, from which he awoke some hours later to find himself apparently alone on the vessel, which, to his horror, was in flames, all means of escape being cut off, save the one desperate expedient of jumping overboard and swimming in the darkness in search of a place of safety. It was about eight o'clock on the evening of March 18th, 1902, when the fire broke out on the Phoenix Line pier, which was stacked with large quantities of freight, all of the most inflammable nature. So sudden was the out- break, and so rapid the spread of the flames, that many of the stevedores and labourers employed about the ship were cut off from all escape to the street, and so were obliged to fly to the outer end of the pier and jump into the water, where they were soon picked up by rescuing boats. The British Queen lay on the south side of the pier, and, as there was a strong north-west wind blowing at the time, she was soon in the grip of the flames, as were also a number of barges which lay outside of her, loaded with such “burnables” as oil, alcohol, jute, and cotton. The desperate efforts of the crew of the steamer to cast her adrift and haul her out into the stream proved futile. In a very short time they were obliged to abandon her and look out for their own safety, which they did by climbing down into a lighter alongside and allowing it to drift across the dock to the Barber Line pier. In the midst of all the commotion and excite- ment which prevailed, Mr. Scott slept quietly on in his room, all unconscious of the danger which threatened him, and, as it .seemed, entirely forgotten by everybody. How dearly he was destined to pay for this brief period of much-needed rest may be gathered from the following account of his night’s experiences. I had been suffering a good deal from my old enemy, rheumatism, and early in the evening had lain down in my room and dropped off to sleep. I must have slept very soundly—which, by the way, was only natural, seeing that for several days and nights previously I had not known what it was to enjoy two or three con- secutive hours of unbroken rest. I cannot say how long I slumbered, but my first impression on waking was of a strong smell of something burning. Rising painfully to my feet, I opened the door of my room, which led into the engineers’ mess-room. I was thunder- struck to find the room in darkness and filled with dense clouds of smoke that almost stifled me. I at once jumped to the conclusion that a fire had broken out on board the ship, and it naturally struck me as strange that no one had called and told me of it. As a matter of course my first thought now was as to whether the engineer on duty was at his post to work the pumps. Stepping out on deck, 1 found that, what with the darkness and the heavy volumes of acrid, choking smoke, it was impossible to see an arm’s length ahead. I groped my way with difficulty to the engine- room entrance and, stepping on to the upper platform, peered down into the billowing smoke. I shouted to see if there was anyone below, but no reply came to my repeated calls. This certainly looked ominous. Matters must have reached a very serious stage indeed to drive everybody up from the engine-room and stoke- hold. It now began to dawn upon me that all hands had left the ship, and in the hurry and excitement no one had given me a thought; it was hardly to be expected that anyone would suppose that a man could sleep quietly through it all. Stepping out on deck again, I began to feel my way cautiously towards the gangway, and presently I encountered somebody coming in the opposite direction.

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600 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “Who is this?” I asked. “It’s me,” replied the man, whom I recog- nised as one of my’greasers, a Belgian. In answer to my questions, he gave me a hurried account of the state of affairs. ‘The pier was blazing from end to end. The forward half of the ship and almost the entire length of her starboard side was in flames, and everybody but our two selves, apparently, had already made good their escape. Flight by way of the wharf was, under these conditions, entirely out of the question, so there was no alternative but to take to the water on the ‘off-shore side and trust to the chance of being picked up. As the fire was advancing with rapid strides, devouring everything that came within its reach, I realized that we had not a moment to lose. For a short space, however, we hesitated to jump overboard. Even the bravest man will pause before tak- . ing a leap in the dark ; moreover, to jump from a height of some thirty feet was risky enough, even with the certainty of finding only water beneath us; but I was well aware of the possibility of a lighter being in the way, and this was no occasion on which to risk breaking a leg or an arm. Still, as I have already intima- ted, we had precious little time to spend in doubt, a fact which was each moment being more and more forcibly impressed upon us by the ever- increasing, furnace - like heat around us, a heat in comparison with which my hottest engine-room or stoke- hold experiences seemed positively mild. _ occurred to me. Fortunately at this moment a happy thought During the day a gang of men had been employed coaling ship, and I now suddenly remembered having seen them coil their derrick-fall on the top of the cattle-fittings which were erected on the deck where we now stood. If by any chance that rope were still there it would solve the difficulty of getting out of the ship without incurring the risk of breaking our limbs. Calling to the greaser to follow me, I climbed on the top of the “fittings” and felt my way “(A PEW STROKES TOOK US CLRAR OF THE BURNING SHIP,”

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MORE QUEER FIXES. 601 along till I stumbled across the coil of rope. Lowering the end well down into the water, I made the bight fast to a strong wooden cleat. Then over the side we went—one after the other. Fortunately we could both swim, but it is scarcely necessary to add that that accomplish- ment, though very necessary at the moment, by no means assured our complete safety. At any rate, the possibility of drowning was infinitely preferable to the certainty of being roasted alive. A few strokes took us clear of the burning ship, which, from our low position, we soon lost sight of altogether, for we were now dead to lee- ward of the fire, where the dense volumes of smoke hung low on the water, rolling down on the eddies of wind between the piers. It was impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction, and the consequence was that we soon lost our bearings entirely. But still, however, we swam slowly on through .the vapour-laden blackness. The heat was in- tense and the atmosphere stifling with the poisonous fumes of various burning oils, while showers of sparks and burning splinters fell all around us. After a while we came in contact with a lighter drifting aimlessly in the dock. Promptly we climbed on board, and made our way aft to where a blurred glow of light struggled up through the small cabin scuttle. 1 shouted down below, but received no answer, so, deter- mined to investigate, I descended into the cabin. Here I found every indication of a pre- cipitate flight on the part of the late occupants. A lamp was burning on the bulkhead, and on a small table was the lightermen’s supper, un- touched—a pot of tea scarcely yet cold and some cold meat and bread. At sight of the food I suddenly realized that I was hungry, and was just making up my mind to help myself when the greaser, who had remained on deck, shouted excitedly for me to come up, as the lighter was on fire. On reaching the deck I found, sure enough, that the forward end of the craft was in flames ; we were no better off here than we had been on the ship. So once more, to escape from the inexorable fire-fiend, we were compelled to take our chances in the water. Each moment now added new terrors to our surroundings. Fanned by the freshening gale, the noise of the fire on pier and ship swelled to a deep sullen roar. The heat became unbearable as the wind bore its terrible burden across the water, and the pungent, choking smoke, momen- tarily increasing in volume, spread itself above and around us like a huge, impenetrable pall. The reeking, poisonous atmosphere settled on Vol. xx.—76. our lungs, and the smoke, filling our eyes, almost blinded us. But still we floundered on, fighting our way, as we supposed, towards the south side of the dock. ‘ It was not very long after this that I suddenly became aware that I was alone—my companion had disappeared without a word or a sound! How or at what precise moment he went I could not say. Thinking at first that we had merely become separated in the dark I com- menced shouting to him, and, receiving no reply, swam round in various directions in the hope of finding him. But it was all to no purpose ; I saw nothing more of the poor fellow. There seemed to me but one way of accounting for his disappearance; he had gone to the bottom, either through his strength having suddenly failed him or through having struck some unseen obstacle. In any case the un- pleasant fact remained that I was all alone in my terrible predicament, which made matters appear ten times worse than before. Still, I had no intention yet of giving up the struggle as hopeless. Resuming my way alone, I swam doggedly on, although my progress was neces- sarily slow on account of the masses of charred wood and other floating aééris that strewed the surface of the water. Mere words can convey no adequate descrip- tion of my surroundings—the sullen roar of the flames, growing every moment more terrify- ing, the sharp crackling of burning timbers, with every now and then the crash of some falling portion of the sheds, from which shot up great tongues of lurid flame, that served to illumine for a moment the grim magnificence of the scene. Now that the flames, at intervals, burst through the smoke, I was able once more to locate the burning pier, and I knew that by swimming away from it I must in time either reach the pier on the south side of the dock, or the steamer Heathburn which lay there. How long it really was after this when I did eventually reach the steamer I had no means of knowing, though the time doubtless appeared longer to me than it actually was. In the hope of finding a stray rope’s-end hanging down in the water, I swam slowly along her side, but got aft as far as the propeller without finding any. Here I drew myself up on to the blades to rest a while, and to consider what I had better do next. : Suddenly, as I sat there weighing the possi- bilities of the situation, I became alive to the danger of my present position. “There may be steam up on the vessel’s main boilers,” was the awful thought that struck me, “and, if so, there is no knowing at what moment the propeller may begin to move!” I knew that the people

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THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “(1 DREW MYSELF UP ON THE BLADES TO REST.” on board must be doing their utmost to get their vessel out of dock and beyond the reach of the fire. And so, for the third time I took to the water, and set out again on my seemingly hopeless quest for a place of safety. But I was careful now to keep in touch with the ship’s side, for it occurred to me that I must have explored little more than one half of her length, so that there was still a possibility of finding a rope hanging down farther forward. Realizing that I had but little strength left, I swam along very slowly, and presently encountered what appeared to be a floating log, but when I attempted to push it to one side out of my way I discovered to my surprise and joy that it was a wooden fender hanging over the Heathburn’s side. Pulling myself up on to it as

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MORE QUEER FIXES. 603 well as I could, I immediately began to shout for help, but although I yelled again and again nobody seemed to hear me. Then a feeling of despair began to steal over me, as the thought suggested itself that perhaps the ship was already deserted. If this were so, then my predicament was desperate indeed. When I left my room on the British Queen I was little better than an invalid, and certainly in no fit state to undergo what I_had already been through, nor could I now hide from myself the ae z = fact that, in my present weakened condition, I could not hope to hold out much longer. To take to the water again was entirely out of the question, for the effort to retain my hold upon the fender-lanyard tested to the utmost what little remaining strength I had. Realizing the utter helplessness of my posi- tion, I shouted again with all the energy of desperation : “ Heathburn ahoy!” “On deck, there!” “ Heathburn ahoy!” Then I paused in an agony of suspense, straining my ears to try and distinguish the sound of a human voice above the confusion of noises around me. At last, out of the darkness above, there came a loud “ Halloa!” There was no time wasted in unnecessary ex- planations, but a rope was promptly thrown to me, which I contrived somehow td fasten round me, and so was dragged up on deck, utterly exhausted. THE SS. “BRITISH QUREN'—-A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN AS SHE LAY RURNING OFF SOUTH BROOKLYN. Shortly after this the Heathburn was hauled out of dock and towed down the bay to an anchorage. She caught fire from a burning lighter before getting clear, but, fortunately, the flames were mastered before they had obtained a sufficient hold to do any very serious damage. : It was quite the reverse, however, with my own unfortunate ship, the British Queen. All attempts to subdue the fire on her proved: ineffectual, but she, too, was eventually taken out of dock and towed, blazing, down the bay, where she was beached off South Brooklyn and there left to burn. As soon as possible next day I went on shore, and having learned that the officers and engineers of the hapless old Queen were at -Myer’s Hotel, Hoboken, I hastened there to set at rest whatever doubts they might have entertained as to my fate. To judge by the startled expressions which my unexpected ap- pearance among them called forth, it was very evident that they had already numbered me with those who. had perished during the night. a : A melancholy sequel to the trying experiences of that night was the recovery, a day or two later, of the body of the unfortunate greaser— an incident which appealed to me with grim significance.

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604 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. XI—A RIDE FOR THE DOCTOR. Totp By Mrs. STaNLEY Rosinson AND Set Down sy S. G. HAMILTON. ABouT two years ago, while on a visit to Queensland, I stayed for a few days with my old school chum, Dr. Stanley Robinson, at his pretty little residence in Brisbane. He had then been married about eighteen months to a charming young lady, a native of Queensland. I had already heard from Dr. Robinson that their love-story was quite a romantic one, but only knew the bare outlines of the case, and during my stay with them I persuaded Mrs. Robinson to fully relate to me the exciting experience which was the first cause of their happy union. I was so impressed with her story that I requested her to write down the facts for me, and this she kindly consented to do. These facts are set forth below. At the date of the adventure I am about to relate I lived with my mother and father in a lonely district some distance from the coast, and the nearest town, or rather village, was over twenty miles away. We did not like living in such a remote place, but, as my father was at certainly conducive to good health. My father had given me a splendid little pony, which I had named Bess, and I was allowed to go for frequent rides, so long as I promised not to venture too far from the house. One hot Monday morning just before dinner- time my father, who had been out since break- fast, was seized with sunstroke, and fell down in a fainting condition about a hundred yards from the house. My mother was outside at the time, and, fortunately, saw him fall. She ran to his assistance, but had sufficient presence of mind first of all to call me to assist her. Between us we managed to get him inside the house ; he was not a very heavy man, but we had to struggle hard before we succeeded in placing him in an easy position on the couch. We saw immediately that the stroke was a severe one, and that medical assistance must be sent for as soon as possible. But here our difficulties commenced, for the question at once arose, who was to be sent? The nearest doctor lived twenty miles away, and, as luck would have it, the only two Dk. AND MRS. ROBINSON, OF BRISBANE, QUEENSLAND—FROM PHOTOGRAPHS TAKEN AT THE TIME OF THE STORY. that time a squatter, with a large cattle-run, we really had no alternative. I was the only child, and had just passed my twenty-first birthday. I often wished we resided nearer a town where things were not quite so dull, and where some- thing occasionally happened to relieve the monotony ; however, on the whole my life was a very happy one, and, whatever other drawbacks there may have been, the open-air life was white men working for my father had gone on business to another squatter’s cattle-run, quite forty miles farther north. Neither of the blacks working for us could be trusted to undertake the journey, even if they had been willing to do so. They were lazy rascals, and sometimes very obstinate, and we, knew, now that their master had been taken ill, that they would maintain their general character.

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. MORE QUEER FIXES. 605 Seeing how matters stood, I asked my mother to let me go on my pony. At first, however, she refused, as about a fortnight before the time of which I write my father had caught two of his black assistants plotting to steal some cattle, make off with them at night, and join the remainder of their tribe in the bush. On dis- covering their plans he had naturally given them a thrashing and turned them off the place. They went away sulking, and had since been prowling about within a mile or two of the house, as though awaiting an opportunity for revenge. Consequently, during this time, my father had not allowed me to ride Bess, and neither my mother nor I had ventured more than a few yards from the house. My mother was in an awkward predicament. There was a possibility of my father succumbing to the stroke if he did not receive the aid and advice of a doctor; on the other hand, if she allowed me to undertake the twenty-mile ride, danger was to be feared from the skulking rascals aforementioned. We were fairly certain that the ordinary blacks would not interfere with us, but the two men who had been so summarily dismissed had probably gone to the other members of their tribe with a list of imaginary grievances, and they might, in consequence, seek an opportunity of revenging them. However, I made light of the risk, and at last my mother reluctantly gave her consent. I did not stop to eat any dinner, but had Bess saddled immediately and started off, feel- ing confident of a successful journey. Tears stood in my mother’s eyes as she wished me God-speed, but I assured her I should be back again ere nightfall, bringing the doctor with me, although I knew it was quite likely he might not be at home. We did not know the doctor, as he had only started his practice, if it could be so called, about two or three months previously. All we knew was that he was a young fellow fresh from England, and that he was the one and only doctor in the place to which I was going. Before I had gone far the tremendous heat commenced to make itself felt, and both the pony and myself became bathed in perspiration. I had on a large Panama hat, which to a certain extent shaded my face and head ; otherwise the heat would have been unbearable. The bush track I was following led across a plain and then through a plantation. I was glad to reach this, as the trees afforded some shelter from the sun. I was in good spirits, apart from the anxiety caused by my father’s illness, but now and again I was startled by the noise of parrots in the branches overhead. The plantation was followed by another plain, and the track then led me into thick scrub— alternated here and there with small open spaces. Here, with my head full of thoughts of prowling blacks, { was frightened by a number of wallabies crossing the track just in front of me to one of these spaces, and again a few minutes later when two big kangaroos bounced right across my path. I soon recovered my nerve, however, and the ride for some time afterwards was compara- tively uneventful. I had now ridden nearly half the distance, and was already looking forward to the end of the outward journey, consoling myself with the reflection that if all went well I should have company on the return ride home. I was nearing the end of the scrub, when I fancied I heard footsteps and the sound of breaking twigs and branches behind me. At once I became alarmed, and urged Bess forward as fast as possible. I listened intently, but the thudding of the pony’s hoofs deadened all other noises, and I heard nothing further to alarm me. When I again emerged into the open I regained a little of my lost courage, and, as I had half a mile of fairly open country before me, I put Bess to the gallop. The worst part of the ride, however, was still to come. The open ground soon gave place to very dense jungle. Clinging vines ran from branch to branch overhead, and these, with the thick foliage of the trees, formed an effective barrier against the fierce rays of the sun ; indeed, the dense undergrowth, combined with the net- work of vegetation overhead, made it quite dark in places. As I proceeded on my lonely way the track became quite narrow, until at last I had diffi- culty in avoiding the undergrowth and low- hanging branches. This jungle extended for several miles, and did not cease, I knew, until within two or three miles of the doctor’s house. My surroundings commenced to have a depress- ing effect upon me, although I endeavoured to comfort myself with the reflection that I was drawing gradually nearer my goal. I had traversed about three milés of the jungle when, to my horror, I again thought I heard footsteps not far behind me. All kinds of terrible thoughts now took possession of my mind. Was anybody really following me? And, if so, with what object? *They would not track me in this way, I felt sure, unless they had foul designs of some kind. I began to think how. foolish I had been to attempt the tide; but then I thought of my father, even then lying in a critical condition. I was only doing what was obviously my duty. I hurried Bess on as quickly as‘ possible, although the pace we were now going at was rather

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606 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. dangerous, considering the obstacles we were encountering on the road, or rather track. But the danger behind—if blacks were indeed follow- ing me, as I feared—was infinitely greater, and I much preferred to risk a fall from my pony through the undergrowth in front than to be captured, Presently I heard the noise of breaking twigs behind me quite distinctly, and judged from the sounds that, whoever the people were who were following me, they were anxious to overtake me as quickly as possible. I think even Bess now realized the danger, for she pricked up her ears and visibly trembled. ‘This only served to intensify my anxiety, and I knew I should’ have extremely difficult work to keep ahead of my unwelcome followers. If Bess had not been hindered in her progress by fallen trees and by the overhanging branches and interlaced vines I should not have been so nervous. ‘The branches, in fact, were in places so near the ground that I had to bend low over the pony’s head in order to avoid them. I believe I could have proceeded quicker on foot, but I knew that even if I left my mount I should be no better off, as the running powers of my pursuers were greater and more enduring than my own. Cin abies mee All ma cruelty tia Tknew th inendly, ] hostility. t both treac I had te, but b not more 1 Sudden bundred y entering 1] sel of tri result that ftom the s; Fno My pr voking bl possible act Now the “acealmen Corts to c °M€ terrib] Tease the so they pair 2p al hope ¢ They wer 2 few more Ser, Stra

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MORE QUEER FIXES. 607 All manner of terrible stories of the blacks’ cruelty flashed through my mind, for, although I knew that most of the surrounding tribes were friendly, I also knew that once their anger or hostility became aroused they generally proved both treacherous and cruel. I had little idea how many were following me, but by the sounds I gathered there were not more than two or three. Suddenly I came to a small clearing about a hundred yards across, and just as I was again entering the jungle on the farther side a loud yell of triumph rang out behind me, with the result that I nearly lost my balance and fell from the saddle. Involuntarily I turned to see who my pursuers were, and saw two ferocious- looking blacks making their way as rapidly as possible across the clearance. Now there was no longer any necessity for concealment on their part they redoubled their efforts to catch me, whilst I, although by this time terribly frightened, also did my utmost to increase the pace. But in spite of all I could do they gained rapidly, and I now began to give up all hope of ever reaching my destination alive. They were now only a few yards behind me; a few more paces, I thought, and all would be over. Strange as it may seem, I began to wonder what kind of death I should receive at their hands, for, rightly or wrongly, I was firmly convinced by this time that they had no other object in view than to kill me. I heard them now immediately behind me, and a few seconds later saw one run along each side of Bess and endeavour to stop her. I tried to scream, but found I was speechless with terror, and a minute later I was dragged violently from my pony—now evidently as terri- fied as myself—and thrown to the ground. Then, suddenly, I found my voice again, and gave several piercing shrieks, which echoed and re-echoed through the gloomy forest. My captors, however, did not endeavour to gag me, evidently thinking there was no likelihood of anybody being within hearing distance in such an out-of-the-way place. With savage cries they commenced to drag me through the thick undergrowth into the depths of the jungle, but had only proceeded a few yards when my head struck against some- thing hard—probably a protruding branch of a fallen tree. This quite dazed me for a few moments, and in my terror I apparently became hysterical, for I again shrieked two or three times at the top of my voice. All I realized after this was that I was still being dragyed along the ground, but at the time felt quite indifferent as to where I was being taken. Presently'the blacks dropped me for a minute or so and started jabbering excitedly to each other, probably arguing as to what my fate should be. While the wretches were thus occupied, both they and myself were suddenly startled by a revolver-shot. ‘This had the effect of making me again fully conscious, although for a moment I was puzzled as to the meaning of the shot. A second later I heard somebody bursting through the forest, and I then began to think that after all deliverance was at hand and that I should be rescued from my captors, for the report of a revolver surely meant that a white man was near. When they first heard the shot the blacks appeared undecided as to their course of action, but they did not take long to make up their minds. Immediately they heard somebody coming in our direction, without waiting to see who their pursuer or pursuers were, they bolted into the interior of the jungle, although before doing so one of the brutes struck me a severe blow on the head with a heavy stick which he held in his hand. The creatures probably thought they had killed me by this cruel action, but although badly hurt I was only stunned. The reader will now be anxious to know how my timely rescue was effected. I afterwards heard that Dr. Robinson, the very person whose house I was making for when attacked, was riding to a neighbouring squatter’s house on a professional visit, when he heard what he took to be a woman screaming —although he was not certain, as the sound was some “distance off. Stopping his horse, he listened for a few moments, but as the sound was not repeated he thought he must have been mistaken. He was about to ride on again when the scream once more rang through the forest. Without stopping to think of the danger he might himself be running into, the young medico hurried his horse on as fast as the many obstacles in the track would permit. He soon came across Bess tied to a tree, and, on pulling up and listening, heard the sound of breaking twigs a little way off in the depths of the forest. Thereupon he fired his revolver in the air, thinking he might inspire a little hope in the woman, whoever she was. Then he plunged into the forest again in search of her. Dr. Robinson soon discovered me lying pros- trate on the ground, and quickly carried me to his horse, which he managed in some way or other to mount, still supporting me in his arms. He also secured Bess’s reins, and she trotted on behind. Dr. Robinson did not know then who I was or where I came from, and therefore thought it best to take me to the house he was himself waking for when interrupted by my screams.

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608 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “DR. ROBINSON SOON DISCOVERED ME LYING PROSTRATE ON THE GROUND.” On his arrival there I was immediately recognised, and a conveyance was soon ready to take me back home. Immediately I opened my eyes and saw my mother standing at the side of the bed, I asked, “Am I safe from those terrible blacks now, mother?” and I trembled violently once more as I thought of my fearful experience. “Yes, dear,” she answered, “ you are quite safe again now, but you must keep quiet if. you wish to get well.” I could not refrain from asking about my father, and felt quite gratified when my mother informed me that he was progressing most favourably. My head, which was bound up, felt very sore, and for a long time I suffered from splitting headaches. However, under the skilful care of Dr. Robinson, who remained at our house for a couple of days before returning home, both father and I rapidly recovered our general health and spirits. The doctor visited us every week until we were quite well again, and then his visits became even more frequent. Before long he and I became attached to each other, and twelve months later we were married.

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An Ocean Mystery. By THE Epitor. The queer little story which lay behind a newspaper paragraph. NAG) | BOUT the end of June, 1907, there INY ) appeared in the English newspapers / many 2. brief paragraph stating that a POQv2.N@) gigantic turtle had been caught at ™ San Diego, California, bearing a message carved on its shell in 1881 by the crew of a British ship which was lost at sea. This, if true, seemed to suggest a good WipE WorLp story, and we accordingly requested our Los Angeles correspondent to investigate the matter. He did so, and reported that the story was quite accurate. The lettering on the turtle’s shell, he informed us, was too indistinct to be well shown in a photograph, and the monster was only snapshotted lying on its back, as depicted in the picture he forwarded. The turtle was caught by the: man seen behind it— Julius Solissa, a fisherman of San Diego. Solissa went out early in the morning in his launch to the cod banks, where the nets were fixed, and his trained eyes soon discovered that something was wrong with them. Such a dis- turbance was going on that it appeared as though a leviathan was churning the water under his boat. Solissa believed at first that seals, which run over these fishing banks in herds, had become entangled in the nets, but as the plunging and rearing grew more fierce he concluded that a large fish must be the cause, and after a long struggle dragged in the nets to look them over. He discovered, to his surprise, an enormous turtle, which fought so violently for freedom that it wound the strings of the net about its flippers and cut the flesh to shreds, the blood running out in streams. Solissa called to his aid all the other fisHiermen he could see, and finally half-a-dozen of them managed to get ropes over the turtle and fasten it to the boat, ~ which was equipped with a powerful gasolene engine. ‘Fhey then towed the struggling monster to the shore. There the real surprise came. The great shell of the back was covered with salt crust and barnacles, but, when these were scraped off and the shell fairly cleaned, numerous characters, either deeply cut or burnt in, became Vol, xx.—7. plainly visible. By close scrutiny the following inscription was deciphered :— “Br. S. Sea Bride—Aug. 12, 1881—3 S.— 86 W.” This was on the left side, looking toward the head. On the right side was another inscrip- tion, reading as follows :— “If Found Please Notify—Thomas Fletcher —Brawley Road, Rivington, Eng.” The interpretation of this message appears to be that an officer or seaman of a British ship, the Sea Bride, caught this turtle in the Pacific some considerable distance off the coast of South America, in latitude three degrees South and longitude eighty-six degrees West (to the south-east of the Galapagos Islands), branded or carved the inscription indicated on the shell, and threw it back into the sea. Apparently the turtle was several hundred years old then, and practically as large as when finally taken ; and how the task was accomplished remains a puzzle. The animal tipped the scale at one thousand nine hundred and two and a half pounds—nearly a ton—and measured five feet two inches over the shell from front to rear. About the neck it was wrinkled like a clown’s collar, and was a pitiful sight as it lay on the beach, helpless as a baby, its great flippers torn by its own struggles while in the net. The turtle was sold within a few hours on telegraphic order to a Los Angeles fish merchant, and by the next day it was converted into soups and steaks for fashionable tables, while the shell was also used for ordinary purposes. Two weeks later a stranger, an Englishman, who had heard of the remarkable catch, sought out Solissa at San Diego, and told him he would gladly give one thousand dollars for the turtle, alive or dead. Finding he had come too late the man became reticent, would not explain why he was interested in the creature, and declined even to give his name. He has not been seen since in the town. On receiving the above particulars from our correspondent we set to work to follow this interesting matter a little farther.. The first step

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Cro THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. was to write to the address given on the shell— Thomas Fletcher, Brawley Road, Rivington. The letter came back to us endorsed “ Deceased.” We then got in touch with the postal official who had written this notification on the envelope, and he was good enough to place another letter from us in the hands of a relative of the late Mr. Fletcher, who, he informed us, would write to us in connection with the matter. The relative, however, failed to do so, but, upon being again approached, informed us that he was “‘ unable to give us any information as to the movements of Mr. Fletcher, either in 1881 or at any other From a) time.” Meanwhile, inquiries had been made with a view to tracing the ship upon which Mr. Fletcher was apparently serving at the time he marked the turtle. ‘Lloyd’s Register of Shipping” —which, as everyone knows, is practically a directory of evéry vessel of any size that sails the seas—-contains no record of any such ship as the Sea Bride, but several Sea Birds (for which Sea Bride might possibly be written in mistake) were discovered—all little craft, however, and not likely to be navigating the Pacific in the region indicated. Through the courtesy of the secretary of the “ Register,” we finally asceftained that a small British vessel, named the Sea Bird, was wrecked on Ossabow Island, on the eastern coast ofthe United States, on the 4th of October, 1882, the loss >eing reported from Savannah. This, however, was a schooner of only about a hundred tons, oo small to make the long voyage round the Horn to the point where the turtle was appa- WAS A MESSAGE CARVED IN 1881 UNDER PUZZLING CIRCUMSTANCES. rently caught and marked, so that the identity of Mr. Fletcher's ship is as much of a mystery as ever. The more one cogitates upon this curious affair, the more mysterious do its details appear. Firstly, how did Mr. Fletcher—assuming him to be the person who marked the turtle—catch such a bulky and weighty monster, detain it long enough to carve the particulars upon its shell, and then release it? Secondly, what was his motive for so doing? One has heard of bottle- messages being flung overboard in mid-ocean for curiosity’s sake, or to test deep-sea currents, THIS GREAT TURTLE, WEIGHING NEARLY A TON, WAS CAUGHT BY A FISHERMAN OF LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA—ON ITS BACK [Photog raph. but this laborious business of catching and branding a monster turtle hardly comes into the same category. Thirdly, seeing that the writer of the inscription was apparently a person of some education, why did he make the remarkable error of wrongly naming his ship? Fourthly, who was the stranger ~ who turned up in San Diego and was so anxious to obtain the turtle, and what was the motive for his extraordinary interest in the creature? And, lastly, how is it that Mr. Fletcher’s relatives are unable to give any particulars whatever as to his movements, or even to say whether he was, or was not, serving at sea at the time of the affair? With these questions this odd little story must be left. It only remains to point out that, between the date when it was marked and that of its capture, the turtle travelled something like two thousand three hundred miles up the western coast of America.

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“Twenty Thousand Dollars Reward !” By H. Ponsonsy. The story of a wonderful bank robbery—how a million dollars in currency suddenly vanished from the keeping of a New York bank as though by magic. The explanation of the mystery and the curious sequence of events that led up to it make a veritable romance of crime. w al WENTY thousand dollars reward a by wpe | will be paid for information lead- » G@ ing to the apprehension of the me thief or thieves.—(Signed) Wald- ~ Man, Bliss, and Co.” This peculiarly-worded notice appeared in all the American newspapers on the morning of November 4th, 1904, and the great banking house of Waldman, Bliss, and Co. was at once besieged by frightened depositors, in the belief that the bank vaults had been rifled. This, fortunately, was not the case, but it was a fact that a sum of money, far larger than any amount previously recorded, had been —— chief cashier, had been placed in a leather bag lined with steel wire netting, for transfer to the National Bank. This bag was placed, until the arrival of the receiving bank’s messenger, on the floor just by the chief cashier’s desk. It had been duly locked, and at a quarter-past eleven the bag was given into the keeping of two messengers, to the left wrist of one of whom it was handcuffed. These messengers—one from each bank — were, as usual, followed by a detective, carrying in his coat-pocket a revolver ready for instant use. The distance between the two banks was less than a thousand yards, both being situated = : , in New Street, in stolen, and stolen, moreover, in a manner which com- pletely baffled the police, the bank Officials being un- able to give them the slightest assist- ance. One million dollars (two hun- dred thousand pounds) in currency had disappeared as if by magic; and— unlike English bank- notes — American notes are virtually untraceable, so the capture of the thief or thieves, unless accident came to the rescue, was a remote contingency. The officials knew only this—at eleven o'clock precisely the day before the sum mentioned, in thousand - dollar bills, counted by four tellers into ten packets of one the same block. Arrived at the National Bank, an official there un- locked the handcuff, and, according to the usual procedure before a receipt is given, the bag was opened in the pre- sence of four tellers. Instead of ten neat packets of thousand- dollar notes, how- ever, the bag con- tained nothing more valuable than bricks carefully wrapped in tissue paper and straw, weighing exactly the same as the money supposed to be in the bag! It was some seconds before the astonished bank clerks realized what this amazing dis- covery meant. Then the president of the institution was hurriedly called. hundred thousand dollars each and checked by the From a) SITUATED IN THIS BUILDING, This gentleman— THE RANK OF MESSRS. WALDMAN, BLISS, AND CO., WHERE THE THEFT OF Mr, Louis W. De BANK-NOTES TO THE VALUR OF ONE MILLION DOLLARS TOOK PLACE, 1S (Photograph. Kalb—after telling

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612 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “THE BAG CONTAINED NOTHING MORE VAILUABLE THAN BRICKS.” the men to remain just where they were, explained the matter over the telephone to Messrs. Wald- man and Bliss, the senior partner of which firm was not long in reaching the scene. The two men held a hurried consultation; then Mr. Waldman sent to the police head-quarters. Six detectives shortly arrived, and the messengers who had carried the bag, as well as their brother-officer, were “detained.” ‘Then three of: the officers returned to the Waldman bank and made diligent efforts there to get some information, but could find out no more than has been told here. Mr. Waldman pointed out to the detectives that it would have been impossible for an out- sider to get inside the bank railings or anywhere near the cashier’s desk ; but the officers, knowing more of the ways and cleverness of bank thieves, said nothing. It certainly seemed, however, as though no person could have got near the bag’s initial rest- ing-place without cer- tain discovery. The detectives suggested that the messengers and their escort should not be ar- rested—at present— and that no publicity should be given to the matter for a day or two. The board of directors—which included such well- known financiers as Kennerly Ward, J. B. Phillips, Rogers Littlefield, and other multi - millionaires— was hastily sum- moned, and although the amount missing was very large, the bank had an enor- mous surplus, and it was decided to re- place the stolen. money and await de- velopments. Mr. Bliss, the other prin- cipal member of the firm, had ideas of his © own, however, and believing the adage, “Set a thief to catch a thief,” inserted in the newspapers the notice which heads this story. Meanwhile the detectives set a watch on every man and boy in the bank’s employ. Their history almost from childhood was gone into, their methods of living, associates, and the minutest detail of their actions thoroughly investigated. Several of the New York daily papers also put private detectives on the case— not so much to gain the reward as to secure sensational “copy” for their columns. Every known bank-thief was looked up in all parts of the world to find out those of the fraternity who might have been in New York in or about November 3rd. At least a dozen men were arrested and put

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“TWENTY THOUSAND through the famous “Third Degree” by the police, but all to no purpose—the bag or satchel containing the missing million dollars had vanished as completely as a pebble dropped into the ocean. The various clerks in the employ of Messrs. Waldman, Bliss, and Co. felt their position keenly. Most of them had been with the bank for years, working their way up from minor posi- tions. The robbery created a general feeling of discontent and mutual suspicion among them, and for the welfare of the bank it was deemed desirable, some six months after the disappear- ance of the bag and its contents, to change the staff about. One clerk was sent to the Paris branch, another to St. Louis, one to Chicago ; and these men, although in new surroundings, were watched constantly by secret police in the various cities. Among the employés at the bank was a young Hebrew, Louis Cohen by name, whose history was an interesting one. [or some years, while Cohen was still quite a lad, he had been a news- boy, and had chosen a pitch just outside the bank premises. He had many customers — among them Mr. Waldman, the senior partner in the bank, himself a Hebrew. Cohen was an extraordinarily bright lad, and often Mr. Wald- man took papers from him and, not having any change, would promise to pay another time. When he asked the boy how much he owed him, Cohen would take a small note-book from his pocket and produce the “account.” This struck the financier as very businesslike; he became interested in the bright-faced lad, and, finding that Cohen was the only support of his mother, Mr. Waldman undertook to educate him, giving Mrs. Cohen a small allowance meanwhile. The boy was sent to school, and as he soon became a clever mathematician and wrote a good hand he was ultimately given a position in the bank. Here he remained for nine years, becoming almost invaluable, for he spoke German fluently, and made many friends for his employers among the larger German firms doing business in New York. On several occasions Cohen was sent abroad on business for the bank, which he always managed advantageously and with dispatch. + Just about six months after the robbery young Cohen was taken ill, and the doctors informed him that he was suffering from incipient consumption. Mr. Waldman promptly sent his protégé to a sanatorium in the Catskill Mountains, and treated the youth as though he had been his own son. Cohen remained in the sanatorium for three months, and then returned to his desk in the bank, but DOLLARS REWARD!” 613 shortly afterwards had to give it up, as his doctor again detected returning symptoms of the disease. Very reluctantly he relinquished his position and went to Montana, where the climate was supposed to be most beneficial for persons afflicted with lung troubles. Here he took a position with a firm of packers, Messrs. Cole and Leary, and remained with them some months, when he informed Mr. Leary that he intended going farther west into the mining country to start on his own account in the meat- purveying business. He wrote letters regularly to Mr. Waldman for a long period, but these letters grew by degrees less frequent until they ceased altogether. The young Hebrew had, of course, been under a certain surveillance in common with the other employés at the bank, but all trace of him was lost when once he moved westward, and having been so highly esteemed by his benefactor no suspicion rested on him. In the spring of 1906 a well-dressed dapper young man walked into the offices of a large estate agent in Cleveland, Ohio, and asked that a desirable suite of offices might be found for him in a prominent quarter of the city. Price being no object, the young man was accommo- dated with rooms in the Euclid Building, the finest business block in Cleveland. Here two rooms were luxuriously furnished, and a brass plate on the outer door informed anyone who cared to read that “J. J. Wilson, Broker and Commission Agent,” was open for business. “J. J. Wilson” advertised extensively in the magazines and newspapers, and his “ hustling ” abilities and evident business capacity soon made him a prominent factor in commercial circles. Money is the key to social and busi- ness success in America, and Mr. “ Wilson” soon had many.of Cleveland’s smart set at his feet. He was welcomed everywhere; his business acumen was very great, and a goodly number of Cleveland’s wealthiest citizens and citizenesses placed their affairs in his hands. Ere long he built a sky-scraper building and, taking a promi- nent local gentleman into partnership, began a general banking concern, which almost imme- diately began to do a big business—and_ all this within a few months. Then something happened. * One day a customer of “ Wilson and Com- pany ” deposited with them a draft on New York for ten thousand dollars. This draft was on the Third Avenue Bank, and as the customer was well known the amount was at once credited to him, the draft being sent through for collection. In the usual way the draft was endorsed by Mr. “ Wilson” himself and then sent East with other New York matter. Arrived at

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» Wilson was Cohen. 614 the Clearing-house there, this draft was sent by mistake to the bank of Messrs. Waldman and Bliss. The exchange clerk was about to return it when he was struck with the familiarity of the endorsement. “J. J. Wilson” was a stranger to him, but the handwriting was very familiar. Not being able to “ place” it for the moment he sent the draft back, and forgot about it. When this piece of paper reached Cleveland again it bore the stamp of Messrs. Waldman and Bliss, and the words “No advice as to payment.” Mr. “Wilson” saw this and became most nervous, but, believing certain fears that he had momentarily entertained were groundless, he passed the incident over. The very next day after the return of this draft the exchange clerk at Waldman and Bliss’s Bank had occasion to look up an item in an old ledger, and while turning the pages he sud- denly received a great shock. The endorsement “J. J. Wilson,” which he had puzzled over on the previous day, was identical with the handwriting of Louis Cohen, the former clerk! This news was at once imparted to the chief clerk and the principals were notified. Mr. Bliss decided, as his clerk insisted that there could be no mistake, on going personally to Cleveland to investigate, for, as in the beginning, he had no confidence in the police. Mr. Bliss left for Cleveland that afternoon and arrived there the next morning. He went to an hotel and had breakfast, and then, going to his representative there, asked for information about Mr. “J. J. Wilson.” The gentleman questioned knew only that Mr. “ Wilson,” a com- parative stranger, was looked upon as a clever young business man, who had in less than no time “cornered” much of the commission busi- » ness in Cleveland. The description of the young “Napoleon of finance” interested Mr. Bliss greatly ; there was no doubt in his mind that His Cleveland representa- tive was sent to “ Wilson’s” Bank on a small business errand to hold Mr. “Wilson” in con- versation while Mr. Bliss made arrangements for “Wilson’s” arrest. The Cleveland gentleman now ventured to suggest that the fact of Cohen - and Wilson being supposed to be the same man gave Mr. Bliss no real reason to have him arrested, and he hinted that it would be wiser ' first to make inquiries as to the source of the young banker’s wealth before taking any steps. ! Mr. Bliss saw the value of this suggestion LOUIS COHEN, THE BANK CLERK WHO ABSCONDED WITH A MILLION DOLLARS AND ESTABLISHED A SUCCES BUSINESS OF HIS OWN IN CLEVELAND UNDER THE ASSUMED NAME OF J. J. WILSON. From a Photograph. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. and drove at once to the offices of Moore’s Detective Agency, where he made certain arrangements, That very morning Mr. “Wilson” had received a telegram from New York which read, “Cloudy; storm brewing—Exit,” and which was unsigned. The young financier, on receiving this wire, took from the vaults of his bank a package of bonds and railway shares, put on. his overcoat, and left the premises by a rear door. Without first going to his flat in Euclid Avenue, he went direct to the Miami railway station, and purchased a ticket to New York. When the detectives from Moore’s Agency started on a quiet search for information, therefore, Mr. “Wilson” was speeding towards New York at the rate of fifty miles an hour. Arriving there, he drove to West Fifty - Ninth Street, to the house of a certain Dr. Gruen, whence, after a lengthy consultation, Mr. “ Wil- son,” accompanied by the phy- sician and two trunks, drove to the docks of the North German Lloyd Steamship Company, where the doctor, “taking a patient abroad for his health,” arranged for their passage on the Katser Wilhelm, sailing the next morning. By this time there was some excitement both in New York and Cleveland. In the latter city the newspapers were devoting much space to the mysterious disappearance of the “brilliant young banker, J. J. Wilson,” while in the former the officials of Waldman and Bliss’s Bank were making every endeavour to trace the aforesaid Mr. “ Wilson,” for the detectives soon found that Wilson and Louis Cohen, the erstwhile bank clerk, were one and the same person, and, as Cohen alias Wilson was the possessor of vast wealth, these gentlemen were extraordinarily curious—so much so that a reward of five thousand dollars was offered for Mr. “ Wilson’s” apprehension. This made a grand total of twenty-five thousand dollars awaiting the lucky person who could produce the much-wanted young man, for there was little doubt now that Cohen knew a good deal about the mysterious disappearance of the leather bag containing one million dollars. While the United States was being turned inside out in the search for the vanished man, European cities had been notified, and the docks, railway termini, and hotels were closely watched. Nevertheless the American doctor and his patient—a very pale man, somewhat

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“TWENTY THOUSAND _ . grey and wearing glasses—arrived quite safely at Hamburg, the patient leaning heavily on his medical adviser’s arm as he left the ship. The two men journeyed to Berlin and engaged rooms there at the Hotel Central. The day after their arrival Dr. Gruen purchased a motor-car, and he and his patient started on a journey to Budapest, in Hungary. The travellers reached that city in due course, but an untoward acci- dent happened within an hour of their arrival. The motor containing the two men drove by the Café Speigel, in front of which there happened to be sitting a German-American physician of great repute—Dr. Emil Schwartz. This gentleman knew and recognised Dr. Gruen, Cohen’s fellow- traveller, and, though knowing nothing of Cohen, hailed his ac- quaintance. Dr. Gruen could not do otherwise than stop and exchange a word with Herr Schwartz. Cohen sat huddled up in the back seat, and was introduced as Mr. “Meyer.” The keen eyes of Dr. Schwartz saw that Mr. “Meyer” was “made up” to look old with the assistance of grease paints; also that he was wearing glasses of a kind through which he could not possibly see, as they were ob- viously ground for a man almost _ blind. Still, Mr. ‘ Meyer” shook hands, looking, meanwhile, over his glasses. Dr. Schwartz paid no attention—it was none of his busi- ness — and the car drove on, the doctor returning to his seat. Two or three days later with Dr. Schwartz’s American mail a package of newspapers arrived. They were full of Cohen’s — aas Wil- son’s—disappearance ; also the vanishing of a = S RS S~ DOLLARS REWARD!” 615 New York physician, Dr. Karl Gruen. This was interesting indeed, and Dr. Schwartz went leisurely to the telegraph office and sent a cable to New York. Within a few hours the local chief of police was at the doctor's door, and a little later Budapest was being searched from one end to the other, but fruitlessly. It was learned from the Customs officials, however, that the motor-car containing the wanted men had left Budapest on its way to Vienna the day before. Vienna was now communicated with, and at eight o’clock that night Louis Cohen, alias Wilson, and Dr. Gruen were arrested at the Pension Rudulf, where they had taken rooms under assumed names. The two were

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616 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. removed to the police head-quarters, where their luggage was searched. In Cohen’s trunk the searchers found six Government bonds, certifi- cates of New York Central Railway shares, and a pass-book on the Maritime National Bank of New York ; also fifty thousand dollars in cur- rency, and papers of incorporation of ‘“ Wilson’s ” Bank in Cleveland. Mind you, up to now the American officials had not one jot of evidence with which to connect Cohen with the million dollars theft. It was his affluent circumstances, change of name, and sudden flight which they were working on; and when told with what he was to be charged the young man coolly replied, “You'll have to prove that.” The American authorities instituted extra- dition proceedings, but their evidence was entirely circumstantial. The two, Cohen and Dr. Gruen, were therefore released. There are wheels within wheels in these cases, however, and “ Wilson's” partners in the Cleveland Bank now asked for Mr. “ Wilson’s” extradition for having absconded with certain of the bank’s securities. This being proved, he was in due course turned over to the American police and taken back to Cleveland, Dr. Gruen remaining in Vienna. Now began a legal battle between two of America’s greatest criminal lawyers, Mr. Josiah Hepworth for Cohen, and Mr. Lester H. Gormly for the prosecution. It was contended that Cohen could not be prosecuted for robbing himself — if it was robbery — in removing securities from Wilson’s Bank, and as_ his interest was far greater than the amount he had decamped with he could not be said to have placed the bank’s affairs in jeopardy. The case was taken to the Supreme Court, the police meanwhile making valiant efforts to trace the Waldman-Bliss robbery home to Cohen. At first they made little headway, but at last the eternal woman cropped up. Dr. Gruen’s wife, greatly angered at the manner in which she had been deserted by her husband, came forward and told the police what she knew, and the mysterious disappearance of the stolen bag was finally brought to light. For sheer ingenuity and audacity the trick certainly wanted some beating. . Dr. Gruen, it appeared, had been a de- positor at Waldman’s Bank, and had come into daily contact with the young clerk Cohen. A friendship sprang up between the two, and Cohen took up his residence with the doctor. Often these two would talk of the many men who had made enormous fortunes very quickly, and Dr. Gruen, being a Socialist, inculcated Cohen with the idea that the world’s wealth was most unfairly distributed. These two, until now honest men, finally became money-mad, and a scheme was hatched to “get rich quick ”—no matter how. Cohen told the doctor that it would be easy for him to steal the messengers’ bag almost any day, the only drawback being the difficulty of getting away with it. He explained just how the bag was placed at the cashier’s desk when ready, and, being discount clerk, he had access to this particular place, which would make it easy enough to get posses- - sion. But what could he do with it when once he had it? The problem was talked over time after time, until, a few days before the actual theft, Cohen learnt that on a certain date Wald- man and Bliss, having successfully bid for a certain portion of a Government loan, were to send one million dollars in payment to the Government’s Bank. Thereupon Dr. Gruen had a brilliant idea, and this was successfully worked. From Cohen’s description Dr. Gruen purchased a .bag, an exact duplicate of those used by bankers. As many of the clerks spent their week-ends in the country, they would bring suit-cases to the bank with them on Saturday morpings, so nothing was thought of Cohen’s bringing a bag into the building with him. He did not take it out again, however, but locked it in the cupboard under his desk. It had been previously filled with bricks and straw. Cohen next went into one of .the vaults, and taking down two old ledgers not in use and kept only in case of reference, removed the backs, which were marked in gilt lettering, ‘“‘ No. 60 and No. 4. Vol. 3—1886— C to G.” These backs he carefully smeared with liquid glue, the ledgers themselves being placed underneath a stand of other old books. On the morning of the robbery, just as the bag containing the large sum of money had been placed in its usual repository, Cohen unlocked his cupboard and in a flash “switched” the two bags—the genuine and his duplicate filled with bricks. Then, while the messengers had gone off with the “dummy” bag, he quickly went into the vault, placed the bag containing the money on a shelf between old ledgers, stuck the prepared book-backs carefully on the bag’s narrow end, and left it there, an exact counter- part of the other disused ledgers. It seems almost incredible that Cohen could have accomplished all this without attracting attention, considering that there were some dozen other clerks all within a few feet of him. But their backs were towards him, they were all busily engaged, and the thing was done so quickly that, in the language of the police, Cohen “got away with it” successfully. This story, told by Mrs. Gruen, who had heard Cohen and her husband speaking of the

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“TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS REWARD!” 617 “COHEN UNLOCKED HIS CUPBOARD AND IN A FLASH ‘SWITCHED’ THE TWO BAGS.” matter, was promptly investigated. There, sure enough, on the shelf in the vaults was found the . missing bag—but minus the money. Detective Moore now took the matter into his own hands, and soon convinced Cohen that he was possessed of all the facts. The young financier, seeing the game was up, quietly admitted his guilt, and coolly endeavoured to make terms with the bank officials, promising to return the money—every dollar of it—providing Vol. xx.—78. they would un- dertake not to prosecute him. The police, however, forbade this, and Cohen’s financial posi- tion was closely gone into, when it was dis- covered that he had managed his affairs so well that, even after _ the full amount originally stolen was placedaside, he still had a balance of many thousands of dollars. The denouement, of course, wound up the affairs of “Wilson’s” Bank, and Louis Cohen was tried, defence —and sentenced tc fifteen years’ im/ prisonment. He told in courthow he had removec the money, a package at 2 time, and alsc how he feignec illness with the assistance of Dr Gruen. The latter committec suicide in a trair on learning that he had beer found out, anc the reward of twenty-five thousand dollars wa: divided between Dr. Schwartz and Mrs. Gruen. Cohen will on his release from prison be stil a comparatively wealthy man of middle age The bank attempted to attach his surplus fund: also, but the Courts decided the money coulc not be touched. The Wilson Building stil stands in Cleveland, but it will be some year ere the young man who “got rich quick” has ar opportunity of seeing it again.

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THE WIDE WORLD: In Other Magazines. A WEIRD SEA-MONSTER. a ie annexed photograph does not represent the sea- serpent or a fossil creature, as might at first be supposed. It was, however, procured beneath the surface of the sea in about three fathoms of water at the Island of Dominica, and is in reality a branch of the common West Indian madrepore coral. Remarkable as it appears L n the photograph, the coral when seen in its native state at the Bottom oF the sea presented an even more striking aspect. The slight motion of the waves caused the coral © appear to sway slowly back and forth, and it was with lifficulty that a diving boy could be induced to go down ‘or it. — MR. A. H. VERRILL, IN ‘* THE STRAND MAGAZINE.” < THE FATAL PEBBLE. . WO Spaniards—a Count and a Marquis—quarrelled, and a duel was arranged. Upon the evening before che encounter the former, who was a dead shot, received a visit from the mother of the Marquis, who fell upon ier knees and implored him not to kill her son. The Count consented, and promised to fire wide. Next norning the duel came off, and the Count, true to his oromise, aimed away from his adversary, depressing the nuzzle so that the bullet should bury itself in the soft vurf. Alas, the bullet ricocheted and struck the Marquis in the head, killing him instantly. The mother, when she heard the terrible news, went out of her mind, ind the Count himself was so overcome with remorse ‘hat he entered a monastery of the White Friars. When ‘he ground was examined after the duel it was found that the bullet had struck a small smooth stone buried half an inch below the turf, There was not another pebble within a radius of several yards. — ‘‘ THE GRAND MAGAZINE.” D TIPS AT MONTE CARLO. . A T Monte Carlo people hunt for tips for the winning A numbers at roulette in a most imaginative way. The waiters at the restaurants are great tipsters. They some and artfully give you a ‘‘lucky number.” They no loubt count upon you forgetting the tip if you lose, and remembering another kind of tip if you win. The “ysychology is sound.—‘‘C. B, FRY'S MAGAZINE.” AN ORCHESTRA OF MURDERERS. N order to relieve the monotonous life of the convicts at Numea, the capital of the French penal settlement in New Caledonia, the authorities have consented to the organization of an orchestra, recruited from the ranks of such prisoners as are musically inclined. The conductor, who formerly played at the Paris Opera House, has thrice been convicted of murder, the first clarinet was an inn- keeper who slew six of his customers, while the operator on the big drum made away with his landlord. The solo cornet murdered his father, and the trombone his wife.— ‘TIT-BITS.” THE COMMENCEMENT OF JAPAN'S CIVILIZATION. HERE is, or was, in the East-end recently, a sailor who claimed that he took to Japan the first item of that Western civilization which has made the kingdom of the Rising Sun the equal in power and majesty of the greatest European nations. One might spend hours guessing what it was. It was neither guns nor bayonets, steam engines nor printing types—it was a pair of corsets. —‘* WOMAN'S LIFE.” IN A MADEIRA GARDEN.” s] Dears aloe flower depicted in the accompanying photo- graph grew up to its height of some thirty feet during the short space of four weeks in a Madeira garden. The lant formed a most striking feature with its yellow lossoms and blue-green leaves. This aloe only flowers r a * a when it reaches its full maturity, which may be at the age of thirty or forty years, and after making this great effort the whole plant shrivels up and dies, but not before the flowers have turned into many small plants, whict: han, in heavy clusters on the parent stem. The natives of Madeira use the dried fibre of these dloe leaves te knit into fine lace d’oyleys,—‘* COUNTRY LIFz.” +

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Odds and Ends. The Amateur Brigands—A Sand-storm in the Desert—‘ The Devil's Breath,” etc. lino Mj N the November number of WIDE iN Wa Wor p there was told the story of \ 1, the kidnapping by brigands of Robert a! ma Abbott, a young man resident in ™ Salonica, and of his release on the payment of fifteen thousand liras by the British Government. In that account mention was made of the fact that Robert Abbott, who is deaf and dumb, had no idea where he was taken by his captors. He was blindfolded and had to walk for many hours. Finally, he was confined in a house, but had no means of ascertaining whether he was in Salonica, a neighbouring village, or in some place twenty miles away. After Robert Abbott’s release the police and soldiers set to work to track the brigands. At first there seemed little hope of bringing the malefactors to book, but gradually a suspicion arose that the young fellow had never been taken far from Salonica, and at last actual proofs were forthcoming that the brigands were a band of amateurs, made up of a gardener actually in the employ of the Abbotts, one or THE SEQUEL TO A IN OUR OCTOBER NUMBE) from a) two neighbouring ‘gardeners and laundrymen, a barber, and several inhabitants, including the mukhtar (headman), from the village of Nihor, or Kiretchkeuy, just over the hills outside Salonica. Abbott was taken prisoner in the avenue leading up to his father’s house. Wonder was expressed at the time that nothing was heard of the struggle that took place, but the night was dark and stormy, and the Abbotts’ gardener was able to watch his young master’s movements, and to apprise his accomplices when the moment for action had arrived. The actual abduction took place within fifty yards of a caracole (police- station) and the British Consulate. Silently, mysteriously, the young fellow disappeared, and none knew how the affair had been engineered. Time passed on, and after thirty-eight days the tansom was paid and Robert Abbott was released. Then investigations commenced, and at last the day of reckoning came. Too many men, as it proved, had been mixed up in the business, and they had been unwise enough to confide in their wives. ‘Through these women

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620 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the plot was disclosed. Fortunately for law- abiding people, some of the ladies conceived jealousy in their hearts because their husbands had received a smaller share of the spoil than others. Jealousy and grumbling led to quarrels, and when the native woman quarrels she always raises her voice to a piercing scream. Gradually the whole story leaked out, and was discussed in the village of Nihor. The virtuous portion of the community—those who had not received a portion of the plunder—held up their hands in pious horror, and expressed their pained surprise at such scandalous doings. About this time the village was visited by the Greek Archbishop of Salonica. Some of the pious people gave him an inkling of the truth, to arrange a raid upon Nihor. On the day appointed they pounced down upon the male- factors, and arrested some eight or ten persons. The prisoners were conducted to Salonica, and, once in safe keeping, the usual Turkish methods of gentle persuasion by means of torture soon induced confessions that led to further arrests, and to the recovery of eight or nine thousand liras. Some of the remaining money had been spent, and evidently three or four thousand liras had been taken out of the country by those of the band who had had the common sense to clear out to Egypt or Greece with their share of the ransom. Efforts are being made to trace these fugitives, but, so far, no further arrests have been made. The photograph —— From a) and he promptly returned to Salonica and paid a visit to the chief of police. It is believed, too, that one of the amateur brigands, from personal motives of revenge, also gave the officials valuable information. In the meantime, ‘the Salonica members of the band acted in such a way as to bring public notice upon their doings. The wife of the gardener, for instance, suddenly developed an insatiable taste for loud jewellery, and her acquaintances looked at her adornments with envious eyes, wondering out loud where the money came from to pay for the trinkets. The police pieced these suspicions, hints, and clues together, and determined to arrest the suspects in Salonica, and at the same moment A SAND-STORM AT KHARTOUM. (Photograph. on the preceding page shows the captured miscreants, the police who arrested them, and—on the table—the eight thousand liras recovered. The immense clouds seen in the snap-shot given above are not the smoke of some gigantic conflagration, but masses of fine sand raised from the arid plains during a sand-storm at Khartoum. It needs little imagination to realize how unpleasant and positively dangerous these storms are to wayfarers caught in their blinding, stinging blast. At the first sign of their approach everyone seeks such shelter as is available, and “lies low” until the disturbance has ceased.

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ODDS AND ENDS. 621 SPANISH ‘ TINAJAS,” I ST JARS IN From a Photograph. The great earthenware giants seen in the accompanying photograph are possibly the biggest jars in the world. They are the work of the potters of Lucena, a small town situated amid the sun-kissed vineyards and olive groves of the South of Spain. They are known to the Spaniards as “tinajas,” and are used for the storing of the wine and oil produced so abun- dantly in that region, where they are commonly to be seen grouped together in outhouses or cellars, the lower portion being embedded in the soil and the upper part enclosed in masonry. The largest of them can boast of a height of close on ten feet, a diameter of between five and six feet, and a capacity of over a thousand gallons! It is obviously impossible to make such immense articles at one operation; the plastic clay would collapse under its own weight. They are therefore built up in easy stages, the neck being laid down first and layers gradually added as the clay hardens. When complete they are left to bake in the sun, and when sufficiently strong to stand handling are removed to kilns and burnt. Transport of these huge brittle masses presents some difficulty ina country where roads are few and spring vehicles practically unknown. Usually they are carried to their destinations by men with the aid of ropes passed underneath the jars, the latter being laid on their sides. As many as eight men are required to tackle the largest specimens. The disposal of the ill-fated Forty Thieves inside a few of these Cyclopean pots would be an easy matter ; the problem would be a suf- ficient supply of liquid to drown them ! THE WORLD. Palestine is essentially the ] land of pilgrimages. Pilgrims make their way to the Holy Land from every quarter of the civilized globe ; but by far the greater number are Rus- sians. It is calculated that twelve or fifteen thousand peasants from Russia are present in Jerusalem every Easter. They all bring with them a white cotton dress, which they carry.down to the banks of the River Jordan, and in the waters of that sacred stream they bathe and drink, clothed in white. The photograph reproduced below shows two pilgrims by the banks of the river, which is in full flood, so that the man in the water is obliged to hold on to the roots of the tree to prevent himself being washed away. The vessels in the other man’s hand he will fill with the much-prized Jordan water; to take back to his friends, while the white clothes will be kept as a shroud for the pilgrims’ death and burial. Perhaps the strangest and most uncanny spot on the earth’s surface is the place known to the natives as ‘‘ The Devil’s Breath.” The name is an appropriate one, for no living thing that comes within range of the deadly exhalations from this ill-omened cavity survives, ‘The Devil’s Breath” is an unpretentious-looking hole in the ground in the Rift Valley, about two hours’ journey by train from Nairobi, British East Africa. Fortunately for the human popu-

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622 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ‘THE DEVIL'S BREATH,” AN UNCANNY PLACE IN BRITISH EAST AFRICA, WHICH HAS CAUSED THE DEATH OF COUNTLESS ANIMALS — THE PHOTOGRAPH SHOWS AN EXPERIMENT BRING MADE WITH A DOG. lation, it is in a rather inaccessible position. The ground about it for an acre or more is covered with the bones of animals which have come within range of the deadly gases. Nature seems to have planned the place for an animal Golgotha. Surrounding the well-like depression from which the deadly exhalations come are salt rocks, and animals are attracted to them from far and near. They lick the rocks, move gradu- ally nearer to the hole, and, receiving a whiff of the deadly gas, they succumb. Experiments have been made by drawing dogs, goats, and birds over the hole, and in every case they died almost immediately. A scientific examination of the spot was made recently by agents of the Govern- ment of British East Africa. Samples of the vapour were secured and analyzed, and it was discovered to be almost pure hydrochloric acid gas. This is generally found in volcanic formations, and the appearance of the surrounding country bears out the theory that the gas is of volcanic origin. The East African scientists believe that it is formed by sulphuric acid passing over salty rock. A curious feature in connection with the place is that the gas is more deadly at some times than at others. The exhalations seem to be more active between three and five o’clock in the afternoon, and at 9 p.m. and 6 am. they seem to be entirely absent. The Govern- ment is arranging to fence off the hole in order to protect animal life, and ‘to erect warning notices for the benefit of human travellers who might be tempted to stray too near it, attracted by the amazing quantity of bones of animals of almost every known East African species. Our photograph shows an experiment being made with an unfortunate dog. From Alabama a lady reader sends us the curious snap-shot shown below. Concerning it she writes as follows: “We have a very fine cat, which is par- ticularly fond of milk, like other cats. If he thinks the milkman- is going about his duties he will follow the man alt over the place, and the snap-shot I send you shows how the animal sometimes takes his milk, seeming to relish it quiet as much. this way as when lapping according to the more orthodox method from a saucer.” The next photograph we reproduce shows a ONR WAY OF DRINKING MILK, From a Photograph,

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ODDS AND ENDS. r 623 on a rind of cheese—the “ Watch on the Rhine.” The “ poet” makes his living by selling his famous “ Boneless Peanuts” and small souvenirs to his visitors. In the Mojave Desert, California, is a small town called Barstow, the terminus of a “division” of a transcontinental railway line, where tired trainmen stop for a few hours’ sleep, prior to beginning another long run. These men’s _ ears, ‘curiously enough, are indifferent to the thunderous noise of moving trains, but are very sensitive to the sound of the human tongue. In consequence loud conversation is under a ban in Barstow, both by day and night. Recognising the ‘value of “talk-proof” sleeping compartments for such clients, an enterprising lodging-house keeper conceived the idea of constructing rooms underground. He accord- ingly dug a long, narrow cellar, dividing it by parallel partitions into small chambers, each provided with a door—as shown in our photo- THE “ PORT” OF NANTUCKET, MASSACHUSETTS—HE 1S QUITE A FAMOUS CHARACTER, graph—and furnished with a bed, AND HIS HOUSE IS FILLED WITH EXTRAORDINARY “CURIOSITIES,” chair, and washstand, with a venti- From a Photograph. lator above. The occupant has only to descend into his vault and man who is probably one of the most interest- close the door above him to be dead to the ing and unique characters in Massachusetts. world of sounds. These ‘“ dug-outs,” as they His name is Gardner, and he lives in the town of _are called, are very popular with the men, and Nantucket, where, on account of his numerous always rouse the curiosity of travellers. eccentricities, he is visited by thousands of people every summer. Gardner’s house, which is known as “Poet’s Corner,” is pla- carded with witty “poems,” and he also has numerous quaint exhibits, such as “ The Tron Spring Well,” which is shown in the photo- graph. This has the appearance of an old- fashioned well, but on looking inside one sees a small pan of water con- taining a rusty carriage spring. Another exhibit, entitled “Schooner Wrecked on a Bar,” shows a_ broken beer i “ UNDERGROUND “TALK - PROOF” BEDROOMS FOR THE USE OF TIRED RAILWAY MEN — YOU STEP glass, while the “German INSIDR, CLOSE THE DOOR, AND ARE DEAD TO THE WORLD OF SOUNDS, Anthem” is an old watch From a Photograph.

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624 . THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. =a = OAT FPe, the passenger a most peculiar sensation, for he is carried down a steep path with the chair in an almost vertical position, so that at times he is almost thrown out headlong ; the only thing is to cling to the chair-poles for dear life. The primitive-looking cover, which is made of dried palm-leaves, forms an excellent protection from sun and rain, and altogether it would not be difficult to find a more uncom- fortable vehicle than one of these quaint chairs—always provided that your bearers know their business. The striking picture which appears on our cover this month A CURIOUS SPECIES OF SEDAN-CHAIR USED IN THE HILLS OPPOSITE HONG-KONG. From a Photograph. shows an American “ bronco- buster ” in the throes of breaking- Travellers in certain parts of China can in a “cayuse,” who is treating him to a experience the delights, or otherwise, of riding in splendid specimen of buck-jumping. Experts Sedan-chairs, although these are not quite the classify the contortions of these spirited horses same things which our ancestors patronized. under various headings, such as the “crow- ‘The above photograph shows a quaint Sedan- hop” and “spread - eagle”; but it is safe chair, in which people are carried up the to say that the mildest of them would hills above Kowloon, in the New Territory he sufficient to unseat any but the most opposite Hong-Kong. The journey affords skilful riders. a wat 7 -— EP of 1 Ge ; — STWENTY-THOUSAND 2. d : DoLLaRs REWARD apneie sf & 3, SENS@#PIONAL Prison ESCAPES pa | an % Ix RUSSIA a Wy Z yy oer A. Fearnerd Nh Aways Seilan Chair Tae Queens Temper n ELOPEMENT AUTOBIOGRAPHY: x S OF A BRIGAND.1 — tty & . An OcEAN“MysTERY A w: as N ; » IN GREE é Tie Ski-SpoRT by IN-AMERICA 1 ve ¢ ™ Targucn FIRE & WATER. THR MAP-CONTENTS OF “THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE,” WHICH SHOWS AT A GLANCE THE LOCALITY OF EACH ARTICLE AND NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURE IN THIS NUMBER. 2

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