Greenfield Republican, Greenfield, Hancock County, 29 November 1889 — Page 6

ALLAN QUATERMAIN.

A Record of Remarkable Adventures and Discoveries.

BY H. RIDER HAGGARD.

SYNOPSIS.

[Allan Quatermain, chafing1 under the restraints of civilization, and in the death of his son Harry beinglonely and disconsolate, without kith or kin, concludes to make another trip into Africa. He had heard vaguely of a distant part of Africa being peopled with a strange wnitc race, and he proposed to go to Mt. Kenis, thence to Mt. Lekakisera, thence into the un known beyond, and, if possible, discover the truth or falsity of the report. He broached the subject to his old friends and associate adventurers in Kukuanaland—Sir Henry Curtis and Captain John Good, who, themselves wearied of their situation, eagerly joined in the proposed expedition. Thereupon the party embark for their new lield of adventure. They soon reached Larau, and with the aid of the consul soon completed arrangements with a party of Nakati Askai to transport their goods. This party was loth to make the trip, but was induced to do so by the demands and threats of Umslopogaas, a deposed Zulu chief, whom Quatermain had known in other adventures. Ten days after leaving Lamu the party j'ound themselves on the Tana river. At Chara they had a quarrel with the headsman of the bearers, who wanted to extort largo extra payment. As the result he threatened to set the Massai on them The party embarked on the river in canoes. At night they concluded

5it

was unsafe to camp on shore, and anchored their canoes in midstream After several hours, Quatermain, be ing awake, felt the boat move, and soon a hand was thrust in the canoe and one of the Wakwafi was stabbed to the heart. He uttered a frightful yell, and Quatermain, grasping Urn slopogaas1 battle-ax. struck a terrific blow at the hand, and severed it from the arm, the hand falling into the boat. Dark objects were then seen moving toward the shore, and it was known that the Massai had intended murdering them as they slept. The warning was just in time to save the lives of all in the canoes. The party resumed its travels, and, after many hours of arduous labor, they reached Mr. Mackenzie's mission station. They wero given a royal welcome. The station was located on an eminence overlooking the river, and surrounded by a high stone wall, with a ditch on the outer side, filled with water. There was a garden and many beautiful cultivated flowers within the inolosure. The mission consisted of Mr. Mackenzie, his wife and little daughter Flossie, a french cook, Alphonse, and several natives. Here Quatermain received further information of the unknown white race they were seeking. It is feared the Masai will attack the travelers at the mission.]

The reader will be enabled by this synopsis to peruse the period of the story in the following chapters,

CHAPTER IV.

ALPHONSE AND HIS ANNETTE.

After dinner we thoroughly inspected all the outbuildings and grounds of the station, which I consider the most successful as well as the most beautiful place of the sort that I have seen in Africa. We then returned to the veranda, where we found Umslopogaas taking advantage of this favorable opportunity to tlioronghly clean all the rifles. This was the only work that he ever did or was asked to do, for as a Zulu chief it was beneath his dignity to work with his hands but such a? it was he did it very well. It was a curious sight to see the great Zulu sitting there upon the floor, his battleax resting against the wall behind him, whi st his long aristocratic-look-ing hands were busily employed, delicately and with the utmost care, cleaning the mechanism of the breechloaders. He had a name for each gun. One—a double four-bore belonging to Sir Henry—was a Thunderer another, my 500 Express, which had a peculiarly sharp report, was "The little one who spoke like a whip the Winchester repeaters were "The women who talked so fast you could not tell one word from another

the six Mar

tinis were "The common people

and

so with them all. It was very curious to hear him addressing each gun as he cleaned it, as though it were an individual, and in a vein of the quaintest humor. He did the same with his battle-ax, which he stemed to look upon as an intimate friend, and to which ho would at times talk by the hour, going over all his old adventures with it—and dreadful enough some of them were. By a piece of grim humor, he had named this ax "Inkosikaas,11 which is the Zulu word for chieftainess, For a long while I could not make out why he gave it such a name, and at last I asked him, when he informed me that the ax was evidently feminine, because of the womanly habit of prying very deep into things, and that she was clearly a chioftaness, because all men fell down before her, struck dumb at the sight of her beauty and power. In the same way he would consult "Inkosi kaas," if in any dilemma and when I asked him why he did so, he informed me it was because she must needs be wise, having 'looked into so many people's brains." ..... I took up the ax and closely examined this formidable weapon. It was, as I have said, of the nature of a poleax. The haft, made out of an enormous rhinocoros's horn, was thyee feet three inches long, about an inch and a quarter thick, and with a knob at the end as large as a Maltese range, left there to prevent the hand from slipping. This horn haft, though masaiv.e, was as flexible as cane.

entered the head were scored a number of little nicks, each nick representing a man killed in battle with the weapon. The ax itself was made of the most beautiful steel, and apparently of European manufacture, though Umslopogaas did not know where it came from, having taken it from the hand of a chief he had killed in battle many years before. It was not very heavy, the head weighing two and a half pounds, as nearly as I could judge. The cutting part was slightly concave in shape—not convex, as is generally the case with savage battle-axes —and sharp as a razor, measuring five and three-quarter inches across the widest part. From the back of the ax sprung a stout spike four inches long, for the last two of which it was hollow, and shaped like a leather punch, with an opening for anything forced into the hollow at the punch end to be pushed out above—in fact, in this respect it exactly resembled a butcher's poleax. It was with this punch end, as we afterward discovered, that L'raslopogaas usually struck when fighting, driving a neat hole in his adversary's skull, and only using the ting edge for a circular sometimes in a melee. considered the punch a more sportsmanlike tool, from his habit of pecking at his enemy with it that he got his name of Wood pecker. Certainly in his hands it Avas a terribly efficient one.

Such was Umslopogaas^ ax, Inkosi kaas, the most remarkable and fatal hand-to-hand weapon that I ever saw and one which he cherished as much as his own life. It scarcely ever left his hand except when he was eating, and then he always sat with it under his leg.

Just as I returned his ax to Umslopogaas, Miss Flossie came up and took me off to see her collection of flower African liliums, and blooming shrubs, some of which are very beautiful, many of the varieties being quite unknown to me and also, I believe, to botanical science. I asked her if she had ever seen or heard of the "Goya" lily, which central African explorers have told me they have occasionally met with and whose wonderful loveliness has filled them with astonishment. This lily, which the natives say blooms only once in ten years, flourishes in the most arid soil. Compared to the size of the bloom, the bulb is small, generally weighing about four pounds. As for the flower itself (which I afterward saw under circumstances likely to impress its appearance fixedly in my mind), I know not how to describe its beauty and splendor, or the indescribable sweetness of its perfume. The flower—for it only has one bloom—rises from the crown of the bulb on a thick, fleshy and flat-sided stem, and the specimen that I saw measured fourteen inches in diameter, and is somewhat trumpet-shaped like the bloom of an ordinary 'longiflorum" set vertically. First there is the green sheath, which in its early stage is not unlike that of a water-lily, but which as the bloom opens splits into four portions and curls back gracefully toward. the stem, Then comes the bloom itself, a single dazzling arch of white inclosing another cup of richest velvety crimson, from the heart of which rises a golden colored stamen. I have never seen anything to equal this bloom in beauty or fragrance, and as I believe it is but ittle known, I take the liberty to describe it at length. Looking at it for the first time, I well remember that I ealized how even in a flower there dwells something of the majesty of its Maker. To my great delight, Miss Flossie told me that she knew the flower well, and had tried to grow it in her garden, but without success, adding, however, that as it should be in bloom at this time of year she thought she could procure me a specimen.

After that I fell to asking her if she was not lonely up here among all these savage people and without any companions of her own age. "Lonely?" she said. "Oh, indeed, no! I am as happy as the day is long, and besides I have my own companions. Why, I should hate to be buried in a crowd of white girls all just like myself so that nobody could tell the difference! Here," she said, giving her head a little toss, "1 am I and every native for miles around knows the 'Waterlily'—for that is what they call me—and is ready to do what I want, but. in the books that I have read about little girls in England itjis not like that. Everybody thinks them a trouble, and they have to do what their school-mistress likes. Oh! it would break my heart to be put in a cage like that, and not to be free—free as the air." "Would yon not like to learn?" I asked. 'So I do learn. Father teaches me Latin and French and arithmetic." "And are you never afraid among all these wild men?" "Afraid? Oh, no! they never interfere with me. I think they be.lieve that I am 'Ngai1 (of the Divinity), "because I am so white and have fair hair. And look here," and diving her little hand into the bodice of her dress she produced a double-barreled,nickel-plated Derringer, 'I always carry that loaded, and if anybody tried to touch me I should shoot him. Once I shot a leopard that jumped upon my donkey as I was riding along. It frighted me very much, but I shot it in the ear and it fell dead, and I have its skin upon my bed.' Look there!" she went on in an altered voice, touching me on the arm and pointing to some faiv away object, 'I said just now that I had companions there is ®n« of them."

and practically unbreakable out, to I looked, and for the first time there make assurance doubly suro, it was burst upon my sight the glory of whipped round at intervals of a few Mount Kenia. Hitherto the mountain inches with copper wire—all the had always been hidden in mist, but parts where the hands grip being thus now its radiant beauty wa? unveiled treated. Just above where the haft for many thousand feet, although the

broad cutsweep, or I think he neater and and it was

base was still wrapped in vapor so that the lofty peak or pillar, towering nearly twenty thousand feet into the sky, appeared to be a fairy vision, hanging between earth and heaven, and based upon the clouds. The solemn majesty and beauty of this white peak are altogether beyond the power of my poor pen to describe. There it rose straight and sheer—a glittering white glory, its crest piercing the very blue of heaven. As I gazed at it there with that little girl I felt my whole heart lifted up with an indescribable emotion, and for a moment great and wonderful thoughts seemed to break upon my mind, oven as the arrows of the setting sun were breaking' on Kenia's snows. Mr. Mackenzie's natives call the mountain the "Finger of God, "and to me it did seem eloquent of immortal peace and of the pure, high calm that sorely lies above this fevered world. Somewhere I had heard a line of poetry: "A thing of beauty is a joy forever," and now it came into my mind, and for the first time I thoroughly understood what the pcet m-jant. Base, indeed, would be the man who could look upon that mighty, snow-wreathed pile—that white old tombstone of the years, and not feel his own utter insignificance and, by whal soever name he calls Him, worship God in his heart. Such sights are like visions of the Spirit they throw wide the windows of the chamber of our small selfishness and let in a breath of that air that rushes round the rolling spheres, and for awhile illumine our darkness with far-off gleam of the white light which beats upon the Throne.

Yes, such things of beauty are in deed a joy forevec. and I can well understand what little Flossie meant when she talked of Kenia as her companion. As Umslopogaas, savage old Zulu as he was,, said when I pointed out to him the peak hanging in the glittering air: "A man might look thereon for a thousand years and yet be hungry to see." But he gave rather another color to his poetical idea when he added in a sort of chant, and with a touch of that weird imagination for which the man was remarkable, that when he was dead he should like his spirit to sit upon that snow-clad peak forever, and to rush down its steep, white sides in the breath of the whirlwind, or on the flash of the lightning, and."slay, and slay, and slay."

Slay what, you old blood-hound?" I asked. This rather puzzled him, but at length he answered:

The other shadows."

So thou wouldst continue thy murdering even after death?" I said. "I murder not," he answered, hotly

I kill in fair fight. Man is born to kill. He who kills not when his blood is hot is a wom^n, and no man The people who kill not are slaves. I say I kill in fair fight and when I am 'in the shadow,1 as you white men say, I hope to go on killing in a fair fight. May my shadow be accursed and chilled to the bone forever if it should fall to murdering like a bushman with his poisoned arrows!" And he stalked away with much dignity, and left me laughing.

Just then the spies whom our host had sent out in the morning to find out if there were any traces of our Masai friends about, returned, and reported that the country had been scoured for fifteen miles around without a single Elmoran being seen, and that they believed that those gentry had given up the pursuit and returned whence they came. Mr. Mackenzie gave a sigh of relief when he heard this, and so, indead, did we, for we had had quite enough of the Masai to last us for some time. Indeed, the general opinion was that, finding we had reached the mission station in safety, they had, knowing its strength, given up the pursuit of us as a bad job. How ill-judged that view was the sequel will show.

After the spies had gone, and Mrs. Mackenzie and Flossie had retired for the night, Alphonse, the little Frenchman, came out, and Sir Henry, who is a very good Frencli scholar, got him to tell us how he came to visit Central Africa, which he did, in a most extraordinary lingo, which for the most part I shall not attempt to reproduce. "My grandfather," he began, "was a soldier of the Guard, and. served under. Napplepn, He was in the retreat from Moscow, and lived for ten days on his own leggings and a pair he stole from a comrade. He used to get drunk—he died drunk, and I remember playing at.drums on his coffin. My father—

Here we suggested that he might skip his ancestry and come to the point. "Bien, messieurs!" repliedthi^QfJmical little m^p, with a polite bow. "I did only wish to Remonstrate that the military principle, is not hereditary. My grandfather was a splendid man, six feet two high, broad-in proportion, a swallower of fire and gaiters. Also he was remarkable for his mustache. To me there remains the mustache and—nothing more. «'I am, messieurs, a cook, and I was born at Marseilles. In that dear town I spent, my happy youth. For years and years I washed the dishes at the Hotel .Continental. Ah, those were golden days!" and he sighed. "I am a Frenchman. Need I say, messieurs, that I admire beauty? Nay, I adore the fair. Messieurs, we admire all the roses in a garden but we pluck one. I plucked one, and, alas, messieurs, it pricked my finger. She was a chambermaid her name was Annette, her figure ravishing, her faco an angel's, her heart—alas, messieurs, that I should have to own it!—black and slippery as a patent leather boot. I

loved her she was 'so spirituous and abandoned'* that I coul'd not choose but love her. I loved to desperation. I adored her to despair. She transported me,in every sense she inspired me. Never have I cooked as I cooked (for I had been promoted at the hotel) when Annette, my adored Annette, I smiled on me. Never"—and here his manly voice broke into a sob—"never shall I cook so well again." Here he melted into tears. "Come, cheer up!" said Sir Henry, in French, smacking him smartly on the back. "There's no knowing what may happen, you know. To judge from your dinner to-day, I should say you were in a fair way to recovery."

Alphonse stopped weeping, and commenced to rub his back, "Monsieuiy' he said, "doubtless means' means to console, but his hand is heavy. To continue: we loved, and1 were happy in each other's love, The birds in their little nest could not be happier than Alphonse and his Annette. Then came the blow—sapristi! —when I think of it. Messieurs will forgive if wipe away a tear. Mine was an evil number: I was drawn for the conscription. Fortune would be avenged on me for having won the heart of Annette. "The evil moment came I had to. I tried to run away, but 1 was caught by brutal soldiers, and they fanged me with the butt-end of muskets till my mustaches curled with pain. I had a cousin, a linen-draper, well-to-do, but very ugly, lie had drawn a good number, and sympathized when they thumped me. "To thee, my cousin, I said, -to thee in whose veins iiows the blue blood of our heroic grandparent, to thee I consign Annette. Watch over her while I hunt for glory on the bloody field.1 "'Make your mind easy,1 said he'. "I will." As the sequel shows, he did! "I went. I lived in barracks on black soup. I am a refined man and a poet by nature, and I suffered torturer from the coarse horror of my surroundings. There was a drill sergeant, and he had a cane. Ah, that cane, how it curled! Alas, never can I forget it.

He paused, and we nearly choked with laughter, having to turn our faces away. "Ah! you weep, messieurs." he said. "No wonder—it is a sad story." "Perhaps," said Sir Henry, "tho heroic blood of your grandparent will triumph, after all perhaps you will be great." "Great!" replied the Frenchman, sadly. "I am already great. I embody the genius of France. Yes, I I with my straw hat and my littlo cane, I am 'la France.1 But will my greatness oe recognized? .That is the question!" "We shall see," said Sir Honry. 'And now I vote we go to bed. 1 am dead tired, and we had not much sleep on that confounded rock last night."

And so we did, and very strange the tidy rooms and. clean white sheets seemed to us after our recent experiences. .... ..... ,..

^Here I have lapsed into Alphonse's original version. Sir ti nry suggests that was trying to translate

,-tispirituelle

Wnrrigoi

W.O.R.L.D.

news my Tonquin.

"One morning came the battalion was ordered to The drill sergeant and the other coarse monsters rejoiced. I—I made inquiries about Tonquin. They were not satisfactory. In Tonquin are Chinese who rip you open. My artistic taste for I am also an artist—recoiled from the idea of being ripped open. The great man makes up his mind quickly. I made up my mind. I determined not to be ripped open. I deserted. "I reached Marseilles disguised as im old man. I went to the house of my cousin—he in whom runs my grandgrandfather's heroic blood—and sat by Annette. It was the season of cherries. They took a double stalk. At each end was a cherry. My cousin put one into his mouth, Annette put the other in hers. Then they drew the stalks till their lips met—and alas, alas that I have to say it!—they kissed. The game was a pretty one, but it filled mo with fury. The heroic blood of my grandfather boiled up in me. I rushed into the kitchen. I strucic my cousin with the old man's crutch. How could I tell that his head was like an egg-shell? But his skull was thin. The crutch went through it. He died. Annette screamed. The gendarmes came. I fled. I reached the harbor. I hid aboard a vessel. The vessel put to sea. The captain forced me and beat me. He took an opportunity. He posted a letter froui a foreign port to the police. He aid not put me ashore because I cooked so well. I cooked for him all the way to Zanzibar. When I asked for payment he kicked me. The blood of my heroic grandfather boiled within me, and I shook my fist in his face and vowed to have my revenge. He kicked me again. At Zanzibar there was a tele gram. I cursed the man who invent' ed telegraphs. Now I curse him again. I was to be arrested for desertion, for. murder, and returned to the guillotine. I escaped- from prison. I tied. I starved. I met the men of Monsieur le Cure. They brought me here. I am here full of woe. But I return not to France. Better to risk my life in these horrible places than to know the knife of the guillotine."

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4-1 tf

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TO BE CONTINLED.#

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