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About The Yamhill County reporter. (McMinnville, Or.) 1886-1904 | View Entire Issue (March 1, 1895)
* again." Then at last Leonard broke out: “You do not speak the truth. I did not ask you for your daughter’s hand. I ask ed you for the promise of it when I should have shown myself worthy of her. But now there is an end of that. I will go, but before I go I will tell you the truth. You are a schemer and a hypocrite. You wish to use Jane’s beauty to catch this Jew with. Of her happiness you think nothing, provided only you can get his money. She is not a strong character, and it is quite possible that you will succeed in your plot, but I tell you that it will not prosper. You, who owe everything to our family, now that misfortune has overtaken us, turn upon me and rob me of the only good that was left to me. By putting an end to a connection that everybody knew of you stamp me still deeper into the mire. May the misfortune of my house fall upon yours and upon all with whom you may have to do! Goodby. ” And he turned and left the room and tho rectory THE PEOPLE OF THE MIST f [: I By H. BIDEB HAGGARD. (Copyright, 189B, by the Author. ] CHAPTER L The January afternoon was passing into night; the air was cold and still, so ■till that not a single twig of the naked beech trees stirred; on the grass of the meadows lay a thin white rime, half frost, half snow; the firs stood out blackly against the steel bued sky, and over the tallest of them hung a single star. Past these bordering firs there ran a road, on which in this evening of the opening of our story a young man stood irresolute, glancing now to the right and now to the left. To his right were two stately gates of iron fantastically wrought, supported by stone pillars on whose summits stood griffins of black marble embracing coats of arms and banners inscribed with the devioe, “Per ardua ad astra.” Beyond these gates ran a broad carriage drive lined on either side by a double row of such oaks as England alone can produoe under the most favorable circumstances of soil with the aid of the nurturing hand of man and three or four centuries of time. At the head of this avenue, perhaps half a mile from the roadway, although it looked nearer because of the eminence upon which it was placed, stood a man sion of the sort that in auctioneers' adver tisements is usually described as "noble.” Its general appearance was Elizabethan, for in those days some forgotten Outram had practically rebuilt It, but the greater part of its fabric was far more ancient than the Tudors, dating back indeed, so said tra dition, to the days of King John. A hundred yards or so down the road was a second gate of much less imposing appearance than that which led to Outram Hall. Leonard passed through it and presently found himself at the door of a square red brick bouse, built with no other pretensions than to those of comfort. This was the rectory, now tenanted by the Rev. and Hon. James Beach, to whom the living had been presented many years before by Leonard’s father, Mr. Beach’s old college friend. Leonard rang the bell, and as its dis tant clamor fell upon bis ears a new fear struck him. What sort of reception would he meet with in this house? he wondered. Hitherto it had always been so cordial that until this moment ho had never doubted of it, but now circumstances had changed. He was no longer even the second son of Sir Thomas Outram of Outram Hall. He was a beggar, an outcast, a wanderer, the son of a fraudulent bank rupt and suicide. Now, as it chanced, Leonard, beggared as ho was, had still something left which could be taken away from him, and 'that something the richest fortune which Providence can give to any man in bis youth—the love of a woman whom ho also loved For tho Hon. and Hev. James Beach was blessed with a daughter, Jane by name, who had the reputation, not un deserved, of being tho most beautiful and sweetest natured girl that the countryside could show. Presently the door was opened, and Leonard entered. At thia moment it oc curred to him that fie did not quite know why he had come. To be altogether accu rate, he knew why he bad come well enough. It was to see Jane and arrive at an understanding with her father. The Rev. James Beach was a stout man of bland and prepossessing appearance. Never had he looked stouter, more pre possessing or blander than on this partic ular evening when Leonard was ushered into his presence. Leonard’s sudden advent brought sev eral emotions into active play. There were four people gathered round that com fortable fire—the rector, his wife, his son, a young man at college, and last, but not least, Jane herself. Mr. Beach dropped the cup sufficiently to allow himself to look at his visitor at length, for all the world as though bo were covering him with a silver blunderbuss. His wife, an active little woman, turned round as if she moved upon wires, exclaiming, “Good gracious, wbo’d have thought it?” while the son, a robust young man of about Leonard's own age and his college com panion, said: “Hello, old fellow. Well, I never expected to see you here today!” a remark which, however natural it may have been, scarcely tended to set their vis itor at his ease. Jane herself, a tall and beautiful girl, with bright auburn hair, who was seated on a footstool nursing her knees aud star ing at the fire, paying apparently very lit tle heed to her father’s lecture upon an cient plate, did none of these things. On the contrary, she sprang up with the ut most animation, her lips apart and her lovely face red with blushes or the beat of the fire, and ran toward him, with open arms, exclaiming as she came, “Ob, Leonard, dear, dear Leonard!” Mr. Beach turned the silver blunderbuss upon his daughter and fired a single but most effective shot. “Jane!” he said in a voice in which fa therly admonition and friendly warning were happily blended. Jane stopped in full career as though in obedience to some lesson which she had momentarily forgotten. Then Mr. Beach, setting down the flagon, advanced upon Leonard, with an ample pitying smilo and outstretched band. “How are you, my Hear boy, how are you?” he said. "We did not expect”— “To see me here under the circum stances,” put in Leonard bitterly. "Nor would you have done so, but Tom and I understood that it was only to be a three days’ sale.” Then came another pause, during which everybody present except Mr. Beach him self rose one by one and quitted the room. Jane was the last to go, and Leonard no ticed as she passed him that there were tears in her eyes. “Jane,” said her father in a meaning voice when her band was already on the door, “you will be careful to be dressed in time for dinner, will you not, love? You Temember that young Mr. Cohen is com ing, and I should like somebody to be down to receive him.” Jane's only answer to this remark was to pass through the door and slam it be hind her. Clearly the prospect of the ad vent of this guest was not agreeable to her. “Well, Leonard, ” went on Mr. Beach when they were alone in a tone that was meant to be sympathetic, but which jarred horribly on bis listener’s ears, "this is a sad business, very sad. But why are you not sitting down?” “Because no one asked me to,” said Leonard as he took a chair. “Hem!” went on Mr. Beach. “By the way, 1 believe that Mr. Cohen Is a friend of yours, Is he not?” “An acquaintance, not a friend,” said Leonard. “Indeed I thought that you were at the same college. ” “Yes, but he I sa Jew, and I don’t like Jews.” “Prejudice, my dear boy, prejudice, a minor sin indeed, but one against which you should struggle. Besides the family have been Christian for a generation. But there, there, it is natural that you should not feel warmly toward the man who will one day own Outram. Ahl As I said, this is all very sad, but it must be a great oonsolation to you to remember that when •«erything is settled there will be enough, so I am told, to repay those whom your unhappy father—um—defrauded. And now is there anything that I can do for you or your brother?” “This,” answered Leonard nervously. “You can show your confidence in me by allowing my engagement to Jane to be proclaimed.” Here Mr. Beach waved his hand once more as though to repel some Invisible foe. “Really I cannot listen to such non sense any longer,” he broke in angrily. “Leonard, this is nothing less than an im pertinence. Of course any understanding that may have existed between you and Jane Is quite at an end. Engagement! I h&rd of no engagement. I knew that there was some boy and girl tolly between you indeed, but for my part I never gave the matter another thought Leave this hou^e and never speak to my daughter CHAPTER II. Arthur Beach, Jane's brother, was stand ing in the hall, waiting to speak to him, but Leonard pushed past him without a word, closing the hall door behind him. Outside the snow was falling, but not fast enough to obscure the light of the moon, which shone through the belt of firs. Leonard walked on down the drive till he neared the gate, when suddenly he heard the muffled sound of feet pursuing him through the snow. He turned, with an angry exclamation, believing that tho footsteps were those of Arthur Beach, and he was In no mood for further conversa tion with any male member of that fami ly. But, as it chanced, he found himself face to face not with Arthur, but with Jane herself, who perhaps had never look ed more beautiful than she did at this mo ment in tho snow and the moonlight. In deed whenever Leonard thought of her in after years, and that was often, there arose in his mind a vision of a tall and lovely girl, her auburn hair slightly pow dered over with the falling snowflakes, her breast heaving with emotion and her wide gray eyes gazing piteously toward him. “Oh, Leonard,” she said nervously, “why do you go without saying goodby to me?” He looked at her for a moment before he answered, for something in his heart told him that this was tho last sight which he should win of her for many a year, and therefore his eyes dwelt upon her as we gaze upon thoso whom the grave Is about to hide from us forever. At last he spoke, and his words were practical enough: “You should not have come out in those thin shoes through the snow, Jane. You will catch cold.” “I wish I could,” she answered defiant ly. “I wish that I could catch such a cold as would kill me. Then I should be out of my troubles. Let us go to the summer house. They will never think of looking for me there. ” “How will you get there?” asked Leon ard. “It is 100 yards away, and the snow always drifts In that path.” “Oh, never mind the snow,” she said. But Leonard did mind it, and presently he hit upon a solution of the difficulty. Having first glanced up the drive to see that nobody was coming, he bent for ward and without explanation or excuso put his arms around Jane, and lifting her as though she were a child bore her down tho path which led to the summer bouse. She was heavy; but, sooth to say, he could have wished the journey longer. Present ly they were there, and very gently he sot her on her feet again, kissing her upon the lips as he did so, then took off his over coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. All this while Jane bad not spoken. In deed the poor girl felt so happy and so safe in her lover’s arms that at this mo ment it seemed to her as though she never wished to speak or do anything for herself again. It was Leonard who broke the si lence. “You ask me why I left without saying goodby to you. It was because your fa ther has dismissed me from the house and forbidden me to have any more to do with you.” “Oh, why?” said the girl, lifting her hands despairingly. “Can’t you guess?” he answered, with a bitter laugh. “Yes, Leonard,” she wbisperod, taking his hand in sympathy. “Perhaps I had better put It plainly,” said Leonard again. “It may prevent misunderstandings. Your father has dis missed me because my father embezzled all my money. The sins of the father are visited upon the children, you see; also he has done this with more than usual distinctness and alaortty because he wishes you to marry young Mr. Cohen, the bul lion broker and the future owner of Ou tram.” Jane shivored. “I know, I know,” she said, “and, oh, Leonard, I hate him!” “Then perhaps it will be as well not to marry him,” he answered. “I would rather die first,” she said, with conviction. “Unfortunately one can't always die when it happens to be convenient, Jane.” “Oh, Leonard, don’t be horrid,” she said, beginning to cry “Where are you .going, and what shall I do?” "To the bad, probably,” he answered. “At least it all depends upon you. Look here, Jane, if you stick to me, I will stick to you. The luck is against me now, but I have it in me to see that through. I love you, and I would work myself to death for you, but at tlie best it must be a question of time, probably of years.” “Oh, Leonard, indeed I will if I can. I am sure that you cannot love me more than I love you, but I can never make you understand bow odious they all are to me about you, especially papa.” “Confound himl” said Leonard be- neatb bis breath, and if Jane heard her filial affections at that moment were not sufficiently strong to induce her to re- monstrate. “Well, Jane, the matter lies thus: Ei- ther you must put up with their treatment or you must give me the go by. Look here: In six months you will be 21. In this country all her relations put together can’t force a woman to marry a man if she does not wish to or prevent her from marrying ono whom she does wish to marry. Now, you know my address at my club in town. Letters sent there will always reach me, and it is scarcely possi ble for your father or anybody else to pre vent you from writing and posting a let ter to me. If you want my help or to communicate with mo in any way, I shall expect to hear from you, and if need be I will take you away and marry you the moment you come of age. If, on the other band, I do not hear from you, I shall know it is because you do not choose to write or because that which you have to write would be too painful for me to read. Do you understand?” “Oh, yes, Leonard, but you put things so hardly.” "Things have been put hardly enough to me, love, and I must be plain. This is my last chance of speaking to you. ” At this moment an ominous sound echoed through the night. It was none other than the distant voice of Mr. Beach calling "Jane! Are you out there, Jane?” from his front doorstep. “Ob, heavens,” she said. “There is my father calling me. I came out by tho back door, but mother must have been up to my room and found me gone. She watches me all day now. What shall I do?” “Go back. Tell them that you have been saying goodby to me. It is not a crime. They cannot kill you for it.” “Indeed they can, or just as bad,” re plied Jane. Then suddenly she threw her arms about her lover's neck, and burying her beautiful face upon his breast she be gan to sob bitterly, murmuring, "Oh, my darling, my darling, what shall I do with out you?” Over the brief and distressing scene which followed it may be well to drop a veil. Leonard’s bitterness of mind all for sook him now, and he kissed her and com forted her as he might best, even going so far as to mingle his tears with hers, tears of which he had no cause to be ashamed. At length she tore herself loose, for the ominous and distant shouts were growing i louder and more insistent. “I forgot,” she sobbed. “Here is a fare well present for you Keep it in memory I of me." I And thrusting her band into the bosom of her dress she drew from it a little pack et, which she gave to him. Then once more they kissed and clung together, and in another moment she vanished back into the snow and darkness, passing out of his sight and out of his life, though from his mind she could never pass. "A farewell present. Keep it in mem ory of me.” The words yet echoed in his ears, and to Leonard they seemed fateful —a prophecy of utter loss. Sighing heavi ly, he opened the packet and examined its contents by the feeble moonlight. They were not large—a prayer book bound in morocco, her own, with her name inside it and a short inscription beneath, and in the memorandum pocket of its binding a lock of auburn hair tied round with silk. "An unlucky gift,” said Leonard to himself. Then putting on his coat, which was yet warm from Jane's shoulders, he also turned and vanished into tho snow and the night, shaping his path toward the village inn. He reached it in due course and passed into the little parlor that adjoined the bar. It was a comfortable room enough, not withstanding its adornment of badly stuff ed birds and fishes, and chiefly remarkable for its wide old fashioned fireplace with wrought iron dugs. There was no lamp in the room when Leonard entered, but the light of the burning wood was bright, and by it he could see his brother seatod in a high backed chair gazing into the fire, his hand resting on his knee. Thomas Outran! was Leonard's elder by two years and cast in a more fragile mold. His face was the faco of a dream er; his brown eyes were large and re flective, aud the mouth sensitive as a child’s. He was a scholar and a philoso pher, a man of much desultory reading, with refined taste and a really intimate knowledge of Greek gems. “Is that you, Leonard?” he said, look ing up absently. “Wherehave you been?” “To the rectory,” answered his brother shortly. “What have you been doing there?” “Do you want to know?” “Yes, of course. Did you see Jane?” Then Leonard told him all the story. “What do you think she will do?” asked Torn when his brother had finished. “Given the situation and tho woman, it is a rather curious problem.” “It may be,” answered Leonard, “but as I am not an equation in algebra yearn ing to bo worked out 1 don’t quite see the fun of it. But If you ask mo what I think she will do I should say that she will fol low the example of everybody else and de sert me.” “You seem to have a poor idea of wom en, old fellow. I know little of them my self and don’t want to know more. But I have always understood that it is the peculiar glory of their sex to come out strong on these exceptional occasions. ‘Woman in our hours of ease,’ etc.” “Well, we shall see. But it is my opin ion that women think a great deal more of their own hours of ease than of those of anybody elso. Thank heaven, here comes our dinner!” « « • • « • « That night the brothers resolved to make a last visit to their ancestral home. Then they swore upon an ancient Bible never to return to it till they could call it their own. Ou the morrow they went to London and waited there awhile, but no word came from Jane Beach, aud for good or ill the chains of the oath that he had taken rivetod themselves around Leonard Outram’s neck. Within three months of this night tho brothers were nearing the shores of Africa, the land of the Children of the Mist. CHAPTER III. Seven years passed. The brothers had toiled in Africa, seeking the gold with which to buy back their ancestral estate. Tom sickened and died. One morning, it was the day after Tom’s death, Leonard called his servant Otter and bade him prepare for the burial. Otter was a knob nosed Kaffir—that is, a member of the bastard Zulu race. The brothers had found him wandering about the country in a state of semistarvation, and he had served them faithfully for some years. They had given him the name of Otter, his native patronymic being quite unpronounceable, because of his extraordi nary skill in swimming, which almost equaled that of the animal Itself. In face ho was hideous, though his ugliness was not unpleasant, being due chiefly to the great development of the tribal feature— the nose—and in body misshapen to the verge of monstrosity. In fact, Otter was a dwarf, measuring little more than 4 feet in height. But what he lacked in height he made up in breadth. It almost seemed as though, intended by nature to be a man of many inches, ho had been compressed to his present dimensions by art. His vast chest and limbs, indicating strength nearly superhuman, his long iron arms and massive head, all gave counte nance to this idea. Otter had one redeem ing feature, however—his eyes, that when visible, which at this moment was not the case, were large, steady and, like his skin, of a brilliant black. When the funeral was over and Thomas Outram slept his last sleep beneath six feet of earth aud stones, his brother took out the prayer book that Jane Beach had given him, which in truth formed all his library, and read the burial service over the grave, finishing it by the glare of the lightning flashes. Then he and Otter went back to the cave and ate, speaking no word. After they had finished Leonard called to the dwarf, who took his food at a little distance. “Listen, Otter. The tale is yet to tell. The baas who is dead dreamed before he died. He dreamed that I should win the gold with which to purchase my home; that I should win it by the help of a wom an, and he bade me wait here awhile after be was dead. Say, now, Otter, you who come of a people learned in dreams and are the child of a dream doctor, was this a true dream or a sick man's fancy?” “Nay, baas, who can tell for sure?” the dwarf answered, then pondered awhile, drawing in the dust of the floor with his finger, and spoke again: “Yet I say that the words of the dead uttered on the edge of death shall come true. He promised that you should win the wealth. You will win it by this way or that, and once more the great kraal across the water shall be yours again, and the children of strangers shall wander there no more. Let us obey the words of the dead and bido here awhile as he commanded. ” Seven days had passed, and on the night of the seventh Leonard Outram and Otter sat together. "Baas,” said Otter, “you are sick, baas.” "No,” he answered—“that is, perhaps a little. ” “ Yes, baas, a little. You have said noth ing, but I know, I who watch. The fever has touched you with his finger. By and by he will grip you with his whole hand, and then, baas”— “And then, Otter, good night.” “Yes, baas, for you, good night, and for me, what? Baas, you think too much, and you have nothing to do, that is why you grow sick. Better that we should go and dig again.” “What for, Otter? Ant bear holes make good graves.” “Evil talk, baas. Better that we should go away and wait no more than that you should talk such talk, which is the begin ning of death.” Then there was silence for awhile. "Tho fact is, Otter,"said Leonard pres ently, "wo are both fools. It Is useless for us to wait here with nothing to eat, nothing to drink, nothing to smoke and only the fever to look forward to, expect ing we know not what. But what does it matter? Fools and wise men all come to one end. Lord, how my head aches and how hot it is! I wish that we had some quinine left. I am going out, ” and he rose Impatiently and left the cave. Otter followed him. He knew where he wouid go—to bis brother’s grave. Pres ently they were there, standing on the hither edge of a ravine. A cloud had hid den the face of the moon, and they could see nothing, so they stood awhile idly waiting for it to pass. As they rested thus suddenly a moaning sound came to their ears, or rather a sound which, beginning with a moan, ended in a long, low wail. “What is that?” said Leonard, looking toward the shadows on the farther side of the ravine, whence the cry seemed to pro- oeed. “I do not know,” answered Otter, "un less it be a ghost or the voice of one who mourns her dead.” “We are the only mourners here,” said Leonard, and as he spoke once more the low and piercing wail thrilled upon the air. Just then the cloud passed, and the moonlight shone out brilliantly, and they saw who it was that cried aloud in this desolate place, for there, not 20 paces from them, on tlie other side of the ravine, crouched upon a stone and rocking herself to and fro as though in an agony of de spair, sat a tall and withered woman. With an exclamation of surpriso Leon ard started toward her, followed by the dwarf. So absorbed was she in her sorrow that she neither saw nor heard them. Even when they stood close to her she did not perceive them, for her face was hidden in her bony hands. Leonard looked at her curiously. She was past middle age now, but he could see that once she had been handsome and for a native very light in color. Her hair was grizzled and crisp rather than woolly, and her hands and feet were slender and finely shaped. At the moment he could discover no more of tho woman’s personal appearance, for the face was covered up, as has been said, and her body wrapped in a tattered blanket. "Mother,” he said, speaking in tho Sl- sutu dialect, “what ails you that you weep here alone?” The woman withdrew her hands and sprang up with a cry of fear. As it chanced, her gaze fel 1 first upon the dwarf Otter, who was standing in front of her, and at tho sight of him the cry died upon her lips, and her sunken cheeks, clear cut features and sullen black eyes became as those of one who is petrified with terror. So strange was her aspect indeed that tho dwarf and his master neither spoko nor moved. They stood silent and expectant. It was the woman who broke this silence, speaking in a low voice of awe and ad miration, aud as she spoke sinking to her kuees. "And hast thou come to claim me at last,” she said, addressing Otter, “oh, thou whose name is Darkness, god of my peoplo and to whom I was given iu mar riage, from whom I fled when I was young? Do I see thee in the flesh, lord of the night, king of blood and terror, and Is this thy priest? Or do I but dream? Nay, I dream not. Slay on, thou priest, and let my sin bo purged.” “Here, it seems,” said Otter, "that we have to do with one who is mad.” “Nay, god of my people, ” the woman answered, “lam not mad, though mad ness has been nigh to me of late.” “Neither am I your god nor the god of any,” answered the dwarf, with irritation. “Ceaso to speak folly and tell the white lord whence come you, for I weary of this talk of gods.” “If you are no god, blaok one, the thing is strange, for as the god is so you are. But perchance it does not please you, having put on the flesh, to avow yourself a god. At the least, be it as you will. If you are no god, then I am safe from your vengeance, and if you are a god I pray you forget the sins of my youth and spare me. Give me food, white man,” she added in a piteous tone. “Give me food, for I starve.” “There is scant fare here,” answered Leonard, “but you are welcome to it. Fol low me, mother,” and he led the way across the donga to the cave, the woman limping after him painfully. There Otter gave her meat, and she ate as one eats who has gono hungry for long, greedily and yet with effort. When she had finished, she Jookod at Leonard with her keen dark eyes aud said: “Say, white lord, are you also a slave trader?” “No,” ho answered grimly; “I am a slave.” " Who is your master, then—this black one whom I deem a god, but who says that he is no god?” “Nay, he is but a slave of a slave. I havo no master, mother. I have a mis tress, and she is named Fortune.” “Tho worst of mistresses,” said the old woman, “or the best, for she laughs ever behind her frown and ininglos stripes with kisses. ’ ’ “The stripes I know well, but not the kisses,” answered Leonard gloomily, then added In another tone: "What is your er rand, mother? How are you named, and what do you seek wandering alone in the mountains?” “I am named Soa, and I seek succor for one whom I love and who Is in sore distress. Will my lord listen to my tale?” “Speak on,” said Leonard. Then the woman crouched down before him and told this story: “My lord, I, Soa, am the servant of a white man, a trader who lives on the banks of tiie Zambezi some four days’ march from here, having a house there which he built many years ago.” “How Is the white man named?” asked Leonard. “The black people call him Mavoom, but bis white name is Rodd. He is a good master and no common man, but he has this fault—that at times he is drunken. Twenty years ago or more Mavoom, my master, married a white woman, a Portu guese whose father dwelt at Delagoa bay, and who was beautiful—ah, beautiful! Then ho settled on the banks of the Zam bezi and became a trader, building the house where it 1s now, or rather where its ruins are. Here his wife died in childbirth. Yes, she died in my arms, and it was I who reared her daughter Juanna, tending her from the cradle to this day. "Now, after the death of his wife Ma voom became more drunken. Still when ho is not in liquor he is very clever and a good trader, and many times he has col lected ivory and feathers and gold worth much money and also has bred cattle by hundreds. Then he would say that he would leave the wilderness and go to an other country across the water, I know not where, that country whence English men come. Twice he started to go, and I with him and his daughter, Juanna, my mistress, who is named the Shepherdess of Heaven by the black poople because they think that she has the gift of fore telling rain. But onco Mavoom stopped in a town at Durban, in Natal, and getting drunk gambled away all his money in a month, and once lie lost it in a river, the boat being overset by a river horse and tlie ivory and gold sinking out of sight. Still the last time he started he left his daughter, the Shepherdess, at Durban, and there she staid for three years, learn ing those things that the white women know, for sho Is very clever, as clever as she is beautiful and good. Now, for two years she has been back at the settlement, for sho came to Delagoa bay in a ship, and I with her, and Mavoom with us. "But one month gone my mistress, the Shepherdess, spoke to her father, Mavoom, telling him that she wearied of life in the wilderness and would sail across the wa ters to the land which is called home. He listened to her, for Mavoom loves his daughter, and said that it should bo so. But he said this also—first he would go on a trading journey up the river to buy a store of ivory which he knew of. Now, 6he was against this, saying: Let us start at once. We have tempted chance too long, and once again we are rich. Let us go by land to Natal and pass over the seas. ’ " Still he would not listen, for he is a headstrong man. So on the morrow ho started to search for the stere of ivory, and Juanna, his daughter, wept, forthough she is fearless, it was not fitting that she should be left thus aione; also she hated to be apart from her father, for it Is when she is not there to watch that he becomes drunken. ■ Mavoom left, and 12 days went by while I and my mistress, the Shepherdess, sat at the settlement waiting till he re turned. Now, it Is tho custom of my mis tress when she is dressed to read each morning from a certain holy book in which are written the laws of that great great whom sho worships. On the thir teenth morning, therefore, she sat beneath the veranda of the house, reading in the book, according to her custom, and I went about my work making food ready. Sud denly I heard a tumult, and looking over the wall which is around the garden and to the left of the house, I saw a great num ber of men, some of them white, some Arabs and some half breeds, one mounted and the others on foot, and behind them a long caravan of slaves, with the slave sticks set upon their necks. As they came these men fired guns at the people of the settlement, who ran this way and that. | Some of the people fell, some were made captive, but others of them got away, for they were at work in the fields and had seen the slave traders coming. Now, as I gazed, affrighted, I saw my mistress, the Shepherdess, flying toward the wall behind which I stood, the book she had been read ing from being still iu her haud. But as she reached it the man mounted on the mule overtook her, and she turned about and faced him, setting her back against the wall. Then I crouched down and hid myself among some banana trees and watched what passed through a crack in the wall. “The man on the mule was old and fat, his hair was white and ais face yellow and wrinkled. I knew him at once, for often I have beard of him before, who has been the terror of this country for many years. He Is named the Yellow Devil by the black people, but bis Portuguese name is Pereira, and he has his place in a secret spot down by one of the mouths of tho Zambezi. Here be collects the slaves, and here the traders come twice a year with their dhows to carry them to market. “Now, this man looked at my mistress as she stood terrified with her back against the wall. Then he laughed and cried aloud in Portuguese: ‘Here wo have a round out something of this nest from my servant. Pereira said that it was eight days’ journey from your master's settle ment; therefore your mistress has now been there some three or four days, if she ever reached it. Now, from what I know of the habits of slave traders on this coast, the dhows will not begin to take in their cargoes for another month, because of the monsoon. So, if I am correct, there is plenty of time. Mind you, mother, I am not saying that I will have anything to do with this business. I must think it over first. ’ ’ •‘Yes, you will, white man,” she an swered. "when you know tho reward, but of that I will tell you tomorrow, when I have cured you of your fever. And now, I pray, black one, show me a plaoo where I may sleep, for I am very weary.” CHAPTER IV. The woman Soa gave Leonard a potion which allayed the fever, and he was soon restored to health. He remembered his compact, and one morning looked about him for paper on which to draw an agree ment He could find none. The last had been lost when the hut was blown away on the night of his brother's death. Then pretty prize. This must be that Juanna he bethought him of the prayer book which of whose beauty I have heard. Where is Jane Beach had given him. He would not your father, my dove? Gone trading up the use tho fly leaf, beoause her name was on rlvor, has he not? Ah, I knew It, or per it, so he must write across the title page. haps I should not have ventured here. And thus he wrote in small, neat letters But it was wroug of him to leave one so with his mixture of blood and gunpowder pretty all alone. Well, well, he is about straight through the order of common his business and I must be about mine, prayer: for I also am a merchant, my dove, a (Agreement Between Leonard Outram and merchant who trades in blackbirds. Ono Soa, the Native Woman.) with silver feathers does not often come 1. The said Leonard Outram agrees to use his my way, and I must make the most of her. beet efforts to rescue Juanna, the daughter of There is many a young man in our part Mr. Rudd, now reduced to a state of slavery-, who will bid briskly for such eyes as and believed to be in the power of one Perei yours. Never fear, my dove, we will soon ra, a slave dealer. 2. In consideration of the services of the find you a busband. said Leonard Outram, the said Soa delivers to “ ‘And now if you are ready,’ he said, him a certain stone believed to be a ruby, of ‘wo will be moving, for it is eight days’ which the said Leonard Outram hereby ac journey to my little nest on the coast, anil knowledges the receipt. 8. Should the rescue be effected the said who can tell when tlie dhows will come to fetch my blackbirds? Have you anything Soa hereby agrees, on behalf of herself and the said Juanna Rodd, to conduct the said to say before you go, my dove?’ Leonard Outram to a certain spot in central “A mule was brought, and Juanna, my southeastern Africa, inhabited by a tribe mistress, was set upon it. Then the slave known as the People of the Mist, there to use traders shot down such of the captives as her best efforts to reveal to him and to enable they thought to be of no value, the driv him to appropriate to his own uses the store of ers flogged the slaves with their three rubies used in the religious ceremonies of tho thonged sjambochs of hippopotamus hide, said tribe. Further, the said Soa agrees, on and the lino moved on down the banks of behalf of the said Juanna Rodd, that she, the said Juannal, will, if necessary, play the part the river. of a goddess among the said People of the “When all had gone, I crept from my Mist, or any other part that may be required hiding place and sought out those men of of her. the settlement who had escaped the 4. It is mutually agreed that these enter slaughter, praying them to find arms and prises be prosecuted until the said Leonard Ou follow on the Yellow Devil's spoor, wait tram is satisfied that they are fruitless. Signed in the Maniea mountains, eastern Af ing for an opportunity to rescue tho Shep herdess whom they loved. But they would rica, on the 9th day of May, 18—. When ho bad finished this document, not do this, for the heart was out of them. They were cowed by fear, and most perhaps one of tho most remarkable that of the headmen had been taken captive. was ever written since Pizarro drew up No, they would do nothing but weep over his famous agreement for tho division of their dead and their burnt kraals. ‘You the prospective spoils of Peru, Leonard cowards,’ I said, ‘if you will not come, read it aloud and laughed heartily to him then I must go alone. At least let some self. It was the first time he had laughed of you pass up tlie river and search for for some months. Then he translated it to Mavoom to tell him what has chanced his companions, not without complacency, for it had a truly legal sound, and your here in his house.’ “They said that they would do this, layman loves to affect the lawyer. “What do you think of that, Otter?” ho and taking a blanket aud a little food 1 followed upon tho track of the slave driv asked when he had finished. “It is fine, baas, very fine,” answered ers. For four days I followed, sometimes coming in sight of them, till at length my the dwarf. “Wonderful are the ways of food was done, and my strength left me. the white man! But, baas, how can the On the morning of the fifth day I could old woman promise things on behalf of go no farther, so I crept to the top of a another?” Leonard pulled his beard reflectively. koppic and watched their long line wind ing across the plain. In Its center wore The dwarf had put his finger upon the two mules, and on one of these mules sat weak spot in the document, but he was a woman. Then I knew that no harm saved the necessity of answering by Soa had befallen my mistress as yet, for she herself, who said quietly: "Have no fear, whito man. That which I promise upon still lived. "Now, from the top of thiskoppic I saw her behalf my mistress will certainly per a little kraal far away to the right, and form, if so be that you can savo her. Give to this kraal I came that afternoon with me the pen that I may make my mark my last strength. I told its people that I upon the paper, but first do you swear had escaped from the slavo drivers, and upon the red stone that you will perform they treated me kindly. Hero It was also what you promise in this writing?” So Leonard laughed, swore and signed, that I learned that some white men from Natal were digging for gold in these and Soa made her mark. Then Otter af mountains, and next day I traveled on in fixed his as witness to the deed, and tho search of them, thinking that perchance thing was flnisbod. Laughing onco more they would help me, for I know well that at the comicality of the transaction, which the English hate tho slave drivers. And indeed he had oarrled out more by way of bore, my lord, I am come at last witli a joke than for any other reason, Leonard much toil, and now, I pray you, deliver my put the prayer book in his pocket and the mistress, the Shepherdess, from the hands great ruby into a division of his belt. The of the Yellow Devil. Oh, my lord, I seem old woman watched the stone vanish with poor and wretched, but I tell you that if an expression of triumph. Then sho cried you can deliver her you shall win a great exultlngly: "Ab, white man, you have taken my reward. Yes, I will reveal to you that which I have kept secret all my life—aye, pay, and now you are my servant to the even from Mavoom my master. I will re end! He who swears upon the blood of veal to you tho secret treasures of my peo Aca swears an oath indeed, and woe be to him if he should break it!” ple, ‘tho Children of the Mist.’ ” “Quite so, ” answered Leonard. “I have Now, when Leonard, who all the while had been listening attentively and in si taken your pay, and I mean to earn it, so lence to Soa’s tale, heard her last words, he we need not enter into the matter of the raised his head and stared at her, think blood of Aca. It seems to me more prob ing that her sorrows had made her mad able that our own blood will be in ques There was no look of madness upon tho tion before all is said and done. And now woman’s fierce face, however, but only one we had better make ready to start. ” We shall not need to follqjv the footsteps of the most earnest and indeed passionate entreaty. So, letting this matter go by for of Leonard Outram and bis companions day by day. For a week they traveled on, the while, he spoke to her. “Are you then mad, mother?” he asked. journeying mostly by night, as they had "You see that I am alone here, with one purposed. They climbed mountains; they servant, for my three companions, of struggled through swamps and forests; whom the people in the kraal told you, they swam rivers. Indeed one of these are dead through fever, and I myself am was in flood, and they never could have smitten with it, and yet you ask me, crossed it had it not been for Otter’s pow alone as I am, to travel to the slave trad ers of natation. Six times did the dwarf er’s camp that is you know not where, swim the torrent, bearing their goods and and there, single handed, to rescue your guns held above the water with one hand. mistress, if indeed you have a mistress On the seventh journey he was still more and your tale is true. Are you then mad, heavily weighted, for, with some assist ance from Leonard, he must carry the mother?” “No, lord, I am not mad, and that woman Soa, who could swim but little. which I tell you Is true, every word of it. But he did it and without any great fa I know that I ask a great thing, but I tigue. It was not until Otter was seen know also that you Englishmen can do stemming a heavy current that bis vast great things when you are well paid. strength could be measured. Here indeed Strive to help me, and you shall have your his stunted stature was of positive advan reward. Ay should you fail and llvo I tage, for it offered the less surface for the can still give you a reward—not much water to act upon. On the eighth night of their journey perhaps, but more than you ever earned.” “Nevermind the reward now, mother,” they halted on the crest of a high moun said Leonard testily, for the veiled sar tain. The moon had set, and it was im casm of Soa’s speech had stung him, “un possible to go farther. Moreover, they less, indeed, you can cure me of the fe were weary with long marching. Wrap ping themselves in their blankets, for here ver,” he added, with a laugh. “I can do that,” she answered quietly. the air was piercing cold, they lay down beneath the shelter of some bushes to sleep "Tomorrow morning I will cure you.” "So muoh the better,” he said, with an till dawn. It was Otter who woke them. incredulous smile, “and now of your wis ‘Look, baas,” he 6aid to Leonard, “we dom tell me how am I to look for your have marched straight. There below us Is mistress, to say nothing of rescuing her, the big river, and there, far away to the when I do not know where she has been right, is the sea.” That night they camped near the slave taken to. Probably this nest of which the Portugee talked is a secret place. How road, a Golgotha, covered at intervals with the bones of slaves. It was a gloomy night long has she been carried off?” "This will be the twelfth day, lord. As for all, but at last the darkness passed, for the nest, it is secret. That I have dis the sun shone out merrily, and the travel covered. It is to your wisdom that I look ers arose, shook the night dew from their hair and ate a scanty meal, for they must to find it.” Leonard mused awhile; then a thought busband such food as they had with them. Thus they went on for the most part of struck him. Turning to the dwarf, who had been sitting by, listening to all that that day till toward evening they reached was said in stolid silence, his great head a place where the particular canal that resting upon his knees, he spoke to him they were following suddenly divided it self into two, one branch running north in Dutch: “Otter, were you not once taken as a and one in a southerly direction. “Which way, Otter?” asked Leonard. slave?” “Nay, baas, I know not. The water has “Yes, baas, once, ten years ago.” changed. There was no land here. The “How was it?” "Thus, baas. I was bunting on the canal went straight on.” This was a serious matter, for one false Zambezi with the soldiers of a tribe there. It was after my own people had driven step in such a labyrinth meant that they me out, because they said that I was too would be lost utterly. For long they de ugly to bocomo their chief, as I was boru bated which stream to take, and at last to be. Then the Yellow Devil, that same decided to try that on the left hand, which man of whom the woman speaks, fell up Otter thought ran more nearly in the truo on us with Arabs and took us to his place, direction. They had already started in there to await the slave dhows. Ho was a pursuance of this advice when Soa, who Etout man, horrible to see and elderly. liad hitherto remained silent, suggested The day the dhows came in I escaped by that they should first go a little way down swimming. All the others who remained the right hand stream on the chance of alive were taken off in ships to Zanzibar. ” finding a clew. Leonard demurred, but “Could you find your way to that place is the old woman seemed bent upon it he yielded, and turning the canoe they pad- again, Otter?” “Yes, baas. It is a hard spot to find, died her some 300 yards in this new direc for the path runs through morasses. More tion. As there was nothing to be seen, over, the place is secret and protected by however, Otter began to put her about water. All of us slaves were blindfolded again. “Stay, white man,” said Soa, who had during the last day’s march. But I workod up my bandage with my nose—ah, my big been searching the surface of the water nose served me well that day I—and with her keen eyes. “ What is that thing watched tho path from beneath it, and yonder?" and she pointed to a clump of Otter never forgets a road over which his reeds about 40 yards away, among which feet have traveled; also I followed that some small white object was just discern ible. path back.” “Feathers, Ithink,” Leonard answered, “Could you find the spot from here?” “Yes, baas. I should go along these “but we will go and see.” In another mo mountains, ten days’ journey or more, till ment they were there. “It is paper, baas," said Otter in a low we struck the southernmost mouth of the Zambezi, below Luabo. Then I should voice,” paper stuck on to a reed.” “Lift it carefully,” answered Leonard follow the river down a day’s journey. Afterward, two more days through the in the same tone, for his anxiety was keen. swamps, and we come to the place. But How came it that they found paper fixed to a reed in such a place as this? Otter did It is a strong place, baas, and there are so, laying It on the thwart of the canoe be many men armed with guns in it. More fore Leonard, who, with Soa, examined it over, there is a big gun ‘a by and by!’ ” closely. Again Leonard thought a moment. “This is a leaf from the holy book in Then he turned to Soa and asked: “Do which my mistress reads,” said the worn- jou_ qpdorstandjjutfh? No? Well, I have an with convictlom “I know the shape of it’well. She has torn the paper out and fixed it on the reed as a sign to any who might come after her.” “It looks like it,” said Leonard. ‘That was a good thought of yours to come up here, old lady. ’ ’ Then he bent down and read such verses as were still legible on the page. They ran thus: “For he has looked down from his sanc tuary. Out of the heaven did the Lord behold the earth. “That he may hear the mournings of such as are in captivity and deliver the children appointed unto death. “The children of thy servant shall con tinue, and their seed shall stand fast in thy sight.” “Hum!” said Leonard to himself. “The quotation seems very appropriate. If one bad faith in omens now, a man might say that this was a good one." And in his heart be believed it to be so. Another hour's journey brought them to the point of the island along which they had been traveling. “Ah,” said Otter, “now I know the path again. This is the right stream; that to the left must be a new one. Had we taken it we should have lost our way and perhaps have found it no more for days or not at all.” “Say, Otter,” said Leonard, “you es caped from this place. How did you do it —in a boat?” “No, baas. The baas knows that I am strong. My spirit who gave me ugliness gave me strength also to make up for it, and it is well, for bad I been beautiful as you are, baas, and not very strong. I should have been a slave now or dead. With my chained hands 1 choked him who set to watch me and took his knife. Then by my strength I broke the irons. See, baas, here are the scars of them to this day. When I broke them, they cut into my flesh, but they were old irons that had been on many slaves, so I mastered them. Then as others camo to kill me I threw myself into the water and dived, and they never saw me more. Afterward I swam all this way, resting from time to time on the islands and from time to time running along the shore where the reeds were not too thick, till at length I escaped into the open country. I traveled four days to reach it, and most of that time I was in the water.” “And what did you feed on?” “Roots and the eggs of birds.” “And did not the alligators try to eat you?” “One did, baas, but I am quick in the water, I got upon the alligator’s back— ah, my spirit was w’ith me then!—and drove the knife through his eye into his brain. Then I smeared myself over with the blood of the alligator, and after that they did not touch me, for they know the smell and thought that I was their broth er. ” “Say, Otter, are you not afraid of going back to this place?” “Somewhat, baas, for there is that hell you white people talk of. But where the baas goes there I can go also. Otter will not linger while you run; also, baas, I am not brave—no, no, yet I would look upon that Yellow Devil again, yes, if I my self must die to do it and kill him with these hands. ” Aud the dwarf dropped the paddle, screaming, “Killhim, kill him, kill him!” so loudly that the birds rose in affright from the marshes. “Be quiet, you fool!” said Leonard an grily. “Do you want to bring the Arabs on us?” But to himself he thought that he should be sorry for Pereira, alias the Yellow Devil, if once Otter found a chance to fly at his throat. The next day, about an hour before sun set, they came to the nest of the Yellow Devil. The nest was placed thus: It stood upon an island which may have covered in all four or five acres of ground. Of this area, however, only about 2S acres were available for a living space. The rest was a morass hidden by a growth of very tall reeds, which, starting from a great lagoon on the northern and eastern sides, ran up to the low inclosure of the buildings that on these faces, were considered to bo suffi ciently defended by the morass and the wide waters beyond. On the southern and western aspects, however, matters were very different, for here the place was strongly fortified both by art and nature. Firstly, a canal ran round these two faces, not very wide or deep indeed, but impass able, except in boats, owing to the soft mud at its bottom. On the farther side of this canal an earthwork had been con structed, having its crest stoutly palisaded and its sides planted with a natural de fense of aloes and prickly pears. So much for the exterior of the spot. Its interior was divided into throe principal inciosures. Of these three the easternmost was tho site of the nest Itself, a long, low thatched building of wood, in front and to the west of which there was an open spaco, or courtyard, with a hard floor, wherein were but two buildings—a shed, supported on posts and open from the eaves to the ground, where sales of slaves were carried on, and farther to the north, almost continuous with the line of tho nest itself, but separate from it, a small erection, very strongly built of brick and atone, and having a roof made from the tin linings of ammunition and other cases. This was a magazine. All round this in closure stood rows of straw huts of a na tive build, evidently occupied as a camp by the Arabs and half breed slave traders of the baser sort. The second Inclosure, which wns to the west of tho nest, comprised the slave camp. It may have covered half an acre of ground. The only buildings in it were four low sheds similar in every respect to that where the slaves were sold, only much longer. Here the captives lay pick eted in rows to iron bars whloh ran the length of the eheds and were fixed into the ground at either end. This camp was separated from the nest lnclosuro by a doep canal 80 feet in width and spanned at one point Dy a slender and primitive drawbridge that led across the canal to the gate of the camp; also it was protected on the nest side by a low wall and on the slave camp side by an earthwork, planted, as usual, with prickly pears. On this earthwork near the gate and little guard house a six pounder cannon was mounted, the muzzle of which frowned down upon the slave camp, a visible warning to its occupants of the fate which awaited the (reward. Indeed all the defenses of this part of the island were devised as safe guards against a possible emeute of the slaves. Beyond the slave camp lay the garden that could only be approached through it. It also was fortified by water and earth works, but not so strongly. Such is a brief description of what was in those days the strongest slavehold in Africa. CHAPTER V. The road which Leonard and his com panions were following led them to the edge of the main and southernmost canal, debouching exactly opposite the water gate that gave access to tho nest. But Otter did not venture to guide them to this point, for there they would be seen by tho sentries, and, notwithstanding their masquerade dress, awkward questions might be asked which they could not an swer. So when they had arrived within 500 yards of the gato he struck off to the left into the thick bush that clotbed the hither side of the canal. Through this they crawled as best they might till finally they halted near the water’s edge, almost at the southwest angle of the slave camp and under the shadow of a dense clump of willows. “See, baas,” said the dwarf in a low voice, “the journey is accomplished, and I have brought you straight, bonder is the house of the Yellow Devil. Now it re mains only to take it, or to rescue tho maiden from it.” Leonard looked at the place in dismay. How was it possible that they—two men and a woman—could capture this fortified camp, filled as it was with scores of the most wicked desperadoes in Africa? How was it possible even that they could obtain access to it? Viewed from far off, the thing had seemed small—to be done some how But now I And yet they must do something, or all their labor would be in vain, and the poor girl they came to res cue must be handed over to her shameful fate, or, if she chose it in preference and could compass the deed, to self murder. “How on earth?” said Leonard aloudj To be Continued. SUMMONS. In the circuit court of the state of Oregon in the county of Yam it i II. Ida May. Plaintit!. | vs. A. V. May. Defendant. I To A. V. May. tile above named defendant N the name of the state of Oregon you are here by required to appear and answer the com plaint tiled agaiiid von in tile aiane-eutitled suit on or liefore the 25th day of March. A. D lass, that la-ing the fourth Monday in Marell and the first day of the next regular term of said court next after the service of this summons in' publi cation thereof as by law provided and if von fail to answer for want thereof the plaintiff will apply to the above-named court tor the relief praved for in the complaint tiled in said court in the above entitled suit, tiewit: For a decree dissolving and annulling the marriage contract now existing between the said plaintiff and said defendant and for the care and custody of Ethelbert. a male minor child of said plaintiff and defendant agist five years, and for such otherand further relief as the plaintiff may be entitled to in equity and good conscience. This summons is published by order of the Hon H. H. Hewitt, judge of said court, said order made at chambers at Albany, Oregon, and bears date (lie 11th dav of .hinuan . A. 1'. lse.‘>. W.T. VINTON. C C. LINDEN. Attorneys for Plaintiff. I SHERIFF'S SALE In the circuit court of the »tale of Oregon tor Yamhill county. The Mutual Benefit Life Insurance) Company (a corporation) plain- i tie, vs. Levina A. Watt, John L. Watt, Ar lington B. Watt, L. R. Watt, his wife, Earl Bryant Watt, W. L. Elwood, Mary Carrie Watt. W. L. Boise, Administrator, and the County of Yamhill, defendants , 1» Y virtue of an execution, judgment order and > decree ami order of sal«* out of ami under the seal of the circuit court of the state of Oregon for the county of Yam hill, to me duly directed, dated the 22d day of January, A. I). 1895, u|»on a judgment and decree rendered and entered on the 25th day of September, 1894, in favor of The Mutual Benefit Lite Insurance Com panv (a corpo ration) nlaintitt, and against the defendant Levi na A. Watt, for the sum of &5b5,36, with interest thereon at the rate of ten per cent per annum from September 25th, 1894, and the further sum of 9250.00 attorneys’fees, and tho further sum of 978.00, with interest thereon at the rate of eight per cent per annum from June 20tb, 1894, and the further sumof $31.10 cost« and disbursements, and also the costs of and upon said writ, and or dering the sale of the hereinafter described real property, 1 did on the 22d day of January, 181'5, duly levy upon all the right, title ami interest which the said defendants or either of them had on the first day of February, 1890, (the date of the mortgage of the plaintiff) or has since had, as in said decree adjudged, in and to the following described real property, to-wit: The donation land claim of William R. Mc Carty and wife, Notification uuiubered 1702, locat ed in Yamhill and Polk counties, Oregon, and being in township number six (6) south, range number four i 4 i w»“-i o: the Willamette meridian (except two hundred and forty (240) acres oil of the south side of said claim, being all the land in Polk county) the land intended to be mort gaged by this instrument bring all that part of said donation land claim which lies in \amhill county, and containing ?0 acres more or less. Nou therefore, by virttue of said execution, judgment order and decree and order of sale, and in pursuance of the commands of said writ, I will on Saturday, the 2d day of March, A D. 1895, at the hour of one o’clock p. in. of said day. at the court hoii-<-in the city of McMinn ville, Yamhill county. 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