Chatterbox, 1906 Part 51

Her distress exhausted her so much that Colonel De Bohun was rejoiced to see his wife enter the room, saying she intended to remain the night with her aunt. The Colonel almost carried his aunt upstairs, promising that the search should not be given up as long as the faintest hope of tracing the child remained.

Thomas, for whom a hunt was at once started, had disappeared, and with him the stranger. No one had seen them; but gradually a rumour got about that a boat was missing from among the many on the beach of Tyre-c.u.m-Widcombe, and it was whispered that no one knew the coast better than the young gardener.

Thomas was just such a person as Lady c.o.ke had described to the children when she told them the story of d.i.c.k. Little bluntings of conscience had begun his downward career--temptation not at once resisted--then the gradual yielding as the bribe became more dazzling. And this was how it happened.

The Moat House was celebrated for its orchid-houses. In no part of his work did Peet take so deep an interest as in the care of these beautiful and curious plants. But keen as was his pride and delight in them, it was fully shared by his mistress, Lady c.o.ke. She visited the hothouses constantly, frequently bringing her guests to enjoy the sight of the flowers in full blossom.

Peet had a brother in India, who belonged to the Woods and Forests Department, and now and again he had received roots and seeds from him of some more than commonly beautiful plants found in the wilds of the jungle. Sometimes the attempt to grow these had proved a failure; but some had richly rewarded the effort. The pleasure taken in the cultivation of the flowers, and the value of many of them, was pretty well known to all the under-gardeners, Thomas among them.

It appeared that Peet had lately received a small parcel from India, which had been packed with even more care than usual. Being busy he had not had time to examine it till his work was done, when, as he smoked dreamily in his armchair, he suddenly remembered the little bundle he had put away in his room. Mrs. Peet was with d.i.c.k, who always went to bed early, and the old gardener was glad to seize the opportunity to examine his treasure alone. On removing the outer covering, and opening the box, he discovered a bulb carefully wrapped in cotton fibre, and under it was a closely written sheet of paper. It was a note from his brother, relating how he had come across the most curious plant of the orchid tribe he had ever yet seen. It was not a profuse grower, and he had only succeeded in finding one or two specimens, in the crevices of rocks at the entrance to a cavern. This cavern was half-way up a mountain, and in a cooler climate than most of the plants he had sent previously. After giving certain particulars as to soil and habits, he added: 'Its value should be great, as I believe it to be a new variety--a cave orchid--an unknown species as far as I know.'

Peet examined the bulb, and sat pondering with the letter in his hand.

He was feeling drowsy after his day's work in the heat of August, and it was in a half-dream that he pictured to himself the scene his brother described. In the same dreamy way he regretted that no cave answering to the conditions was available in which he could experiment with the new plant. Still pondering, he must have fallen asleep, for the next thing he heard was the voice of his wife, saying, as she laughingly shook him by the shoulder, 'Why, Father, whatever is the matter?'

He looked up sleepily.

'You're calling out about that there ruined summer-house, and the inside room, and a plant, as if the whole thing was to be shouted from the house-tops. A secret, too, for you cry, "Now, don't you be telling my lady. It's quite a new thing." What does it all mean, anyhow?'

Peet growled, but roused himself, confessing he had been dreaming. No more was said, but the dream had started ideas at which he smiled even to himself, and carried out, half ashamed of his queer fancies. He would keep the plant a secret; it should be cultivated in the inner room of the ruin, the broad south window of which would provide all the warmth necessary. He would also carry out his dream by making the orchid a gift to Lady c.o.ke. Had she not been an angel of goodness to him and his? What more beautiful an offering could he make in return for all she had done?

Poor Peet! it was his way of proving his grat.i.tude.

The very care with which he guarded his secret had roused the curiosity of Thomas, and he had spoken of it contemptuously to a friend, a gardener on a neighbouring estate. It so happened that at that very moment the man had with him a Dutchman, who had come on business to England, and had run down to pay a visit to his friend. When Thomas turned to go, this man offered to accompany him a little way. He soon found out all that Thomas could tell him about the new plant, which certainly was not much. Thomas was encouraged, however, to discover all he could, and promises of a rich reward were held out if the plant proved to be as rare as Thomas imagined. The man, being a dealer in bulbs, was fully aware of the probable value of such a discovery, and took pains to enlarge on the huge prices paid for new specimens. Thomas, as a boy, had read _The Orchid Hunters_, and was not wholly ignorant of the vast sums spent in sending men out to various parts of the world, especially India and South America, to seek for new treasures in these beautiful plants. He listened, therefore, with eagerness, but at the same time a.s.sured himself he did not intend to steal the plant. He would only discover all he could, especially where it was to be found, which the Dutchman told him was the most important point.

It had indeed been 'here a little, there a little;' so little that Thomas had considered it was not worth thinking about. A bit of information that was all. Yet it had led to the theft of what he knew to be of great value, and to the loss of his kind mistress's little ward.

It might well be said, 'How great a matter a little fire kindleth!'

(_Continued on page 172._)

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Peet looked up sleepily."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The head of a snake thrust out close to him."]

STORIES FROM AFRICA.

VI.--A TRAVELLER'S TALE.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The bombardment of Algiers not only broke the power of the pirate nation, but gave to England a prestige which extended far beyond the dominions of the Dey; and three Britons who, a few years after Lord Exmouth's campaign, started from Tripoli on an expedition into the wilds of West Africa, found the fame of their countrymen stand them in good stead. Two out of the three, Major Denham and Lieutenant Clapperton, R.N., had won their laurels already in the great war with France, and, being but little over thirty, were by no means disposed to settle down quietly on half-pay. These two, and their companion, Dr. Audney, had felt that strange summons which comes to one man and another in every age and nation, the call into the unknown, into the mysterious places where none of their race have ever trod. And if they did not expect to meet men with heads growing below their shoulders, such as the mediaeval travellers looked for, yet the heart of Africa might hold marvels almost as strange. Seventeen years before, Mungo Park, the great Scottish explorer, who set forth for the last time to follow the course of the river Niger, had pa.s.sed away into the silence of the unknown land. It was hoped that this new expedition might succeed in recovering his papers and journal.

The party started from Tripoli early in December. Their journey at first was quite a triumphal progress; the English dress and speech were honoured everywhere, and the strangers treated with the reverence due to the representatives of the great unknown king whose sailors had conquered Algiers. Many were the questions asked about the mighty monarch, and we may be sure that the magnificence of the mysterious 'Sultan George' (King George III. of England) lost nothing in the description his subjects gave of him. There were delays, however, owing to the bad faith of the Sultan of Tripoli, and it was not till February that the expedition reached the city of Kouka, the capital of Bornu.

Strange indeed is the description of this wealthy city, where the Sultan sat to receive his visitors behind the bars of a golden cage, and where corpulence was looked upon as so necessary a part of a fine figure that the young dandies of the calvary regiments padded themselves out to the proper size, if they had the misfortune to be naturally thin.

The travellers had plenty of time to study the peculiarities of the place, being detained there some time, first from want of camels for the journey, and then by Dr. Audney's serious illness. Major Denham, growing weary of inaction, and hearing that the Sultan of Kouka was planning an attack upon a neighbouring tribe, begged leave to accompany the expedition. The Sultan, who was very much impressed by the importance of the English visitors, and by the idea of the pains and penalties that might follow if any harm came to them, refused for some time to let him go, and it was not until the last moment before the departure of the expedition that the Major wrung from him permission to be of the party.

In fact, it _was_ rather a doubtful proceeding for a member of a peaceful mission, and Major Denham freely owns in his journal that the attack was unjustifiable and did not deserve to succeed. However, neither he nor any of his personal attendants took part in the fighting, and the opportunity of seeing the country and the native methods of warfare, together with the chance of an adventure, were too attractive to be missed; and certainly, so far as excitement was concerned, the daring Englishman got enough and to spare before he rejoined his friends at Kouka.

The attacking party found the enemy stronger than they had expected, and their advance on the position they hoped to storm was met by storms of poisonous arrows, which scattered their cavalry in hopeless disorder.

Major Denham found himself obliged to turn his horse's head with the rest, and fly before the foe, who followed with yells of vengeance, and fresh flights of the deadly arrows.

Denham's horse was wounded and fell with him, then, maddened by fright and pain, struggled up, unseating his rider, and dashed away into the bush, leaving the Major surrounded by the enemy. He received two spear-wounds, mercifully not poisoned, was instantly stripped of most of his clothes by his captors, and gave himself up for lost. But the novel garments so delighted the natives that they left the late wearer while they wrangled over the spoils.

Denham, wounded as he was, determined on a dash for safety, slipped into the bushes, and ran as fast as he could, the thorns of the tropical plants tearing his defenceless feet as he went. A river, flowing between high banks, barred his way, and he had seized a bough to swing himself down when a new peril appeared--the head of a snake, one of the most deadly of African serpents, thrust out close to him from among the dense foliage! Either the horror-stricken fugitive lost his hold, or his involuntary recoil broke the bough to which he clung; at any rate he fell headlong into the stream below him. The shock of the cold plunge brought back his failing senses, and he struck out boldly for the opposite bank, reaching it in safety, though almost at the end of his powers. He had distanced his pursuers for the time being, but his position, as he dragged himself ash.o.r.e, was terrible enough to have daunted even his brave spirit. He was alone in the enemy's country, wounded, without food or weapons, and night coming on--the night of tropical Africa, when the reign of wild-beast life begins. His first thought was to find some tree, into which he could climb and put himself out of reach of prowling leopards; then the remembrance of his late narrow escape recalled the fact that there were dangers in the branches as horrible as any on the ground; and while he hesitated, it seemed as if the question were to be decided for him, for suddenly upon his ears came the gallop of horse's hoofs, and an armed band bore down upon him.

For a moment Major Denham thought all was over, for he was past further flight and had no weapon. Then, as one of the new-comers dashed up to him, he recognised, with relief and thanks, the negro servant of the Sultan's chief officer. They were his friends, flying in disorder indeed, but mounted and armed, and able, in some sort, to protect their guest. There was no time to be lost. The Englishman, draped in cla.s.sical fashion in an exceedingly dirty blanket, was helped on to the bare-backed horse ridden by the negro, and the flight continued with all possible speed. It was a terrible journey, with constantly diminishing numbers, for men and horses, wounded by poisoned arrows, dropped and died on the way.

Denham learned later on that a consultation was held over him, while he lay sleeping from sheer exhaustion during a short halt, in which some of the party urged that it was folly to hamper the flight by the burden of a man who would probably die. One man, however, spoke up stoutly for the unconscious foreigner, vowing that one who had been preserved through so much must be fated to be saved. To him Major Denham owed it that, after infinite danger, pain and fatigue, he arrived, with the remnants of the army, at Kouka, and lived to set foot again, two years later, on English sh.o.r.es, there to delight the stay-at-homes with such a traveller's tale as has rarely been equalled, even from the mysterious land of the 'ever new.'

SANTA CLAUS'S POSTMAN.

'Twas Santa Claus's Postman!

I heard him singing low Among the trees beyond the hill, And through the valley dark and still, Where frozen rushes grow.

And cosy 'neath my counterpane I listened as he sang, While miles, and miles, and miles away I heard him cross the marshes grey, Till close to where I snugly lay, His changing carol sang.

I heard him slam the garden gate As o'er the lawn he crossed, Till, half in fright, I raised my head To hear how through the grove he sped; Then far away, and farther still, By vale and wood and moor and hill, His noisy song was lost.

Upon the pillow, soft and white, I nestled down once more, To think about this Postman, who Goes singing all the dark world through, And beats a noisy, wild tattoo On every winter door.

And when again with joy I saw The frosty sunshine glow, I quickly drew the blind aside, And through the frosty window spied The letters he had scattered wide In drifts of dazzling snow.

The leafless trees stood mute and still By snowy field and lawn; Each twig was graced with whiteness new, And everything that met the view Showed how the Storm, the Postman true.

Had done his work and--gone.

THE HOOF-MARK ON THE WALL.

A German Legend.

If you visit the Castle of Nuremberg, in South Germany, you are certain to be shown a mark, said to be that of a horse's hoof, on the top of the outer wall; and the following story will be told to you, to account for its presence.

Some four hundred years ago there was constant war between the Count of Gailingen and the citizens of Nuremberg, and, after numerous encounters, the Count had at last the misfortune to fall into the hands of his enemies, and was at once imprisoned in one of the gloomy dungeons of Nuremberg Castle.

This was bad enough, but worse was to follow, for, on the meeting of the magistrates, the young Count was sentenced to be beheaded, and the sentence was to be carried out on the following day.

First of all, however, according to an old Nuremberg custom, the condemned man was allowed to have a last request granted--whatever that request might be.

'Let me.' said the Count, 'once more mount my faithful charger, and ride him round the courtyard of the castle.'

No sooner said than done! The beautiful black steed, that had so often carried his master to victory, was saddled, and horse and master met once more under the open sky.

The Count patted the horse's arched neck, and leapt into the saddle; the horse began to prance and kick up his heels, as he had been taught to do. This made such a dust that the attendants were glad to shelter themselves in the guard-room.

'Let the Count enjoy himself; it is his last chance,' said his jailers.