Rensselaer Republican, Volume 21, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 May 1889 — KING SOLOMON’S MINES. [ARTICLE]

KING SOLOMON’S MINES.

BY H. RIDER HAGGARD.

IGNOBI’s FAREWELL. i Ten days from that eventful morning found us once more in our old quarters at Loo; and, Strang- 1 to say, but little the worse for our terrible ex nerience, except that mv stubbly hair came out of that eave about three shades grayer than it went in, and that Good never was quite the same after Foulata’s death, which ■earned to move him greatly. I am bound to say that, looking at the thing from the point of view of an oldish man of the world, I consider her removal was a fortunate occurrence, since, otherwise, complications would have been sure to ensue. The poor creature was no ordinary native girl, but a person of great. I had almost said stately, beauty, and of considerable refinement of mind. But no amount of beauty or refinement could have made an entanglement between Good and herself a desirable occurrence; for, as she herself put it, “Can the sun mate with the darkness, or the white with the black?”

I need hardlv state that we never again penetrated into Solomon's treasure chamber. After we had recovered fr m our fatigues, a process which took us fortv eight hours, we deceoded into the great pit in the hope of finding the hole' '‘ by which we had crept, out of the mountain, but with no Success. To begin with rain had fallen, aud obliterated our spout; and what is more, the sides of ’the vast pit were full of ant bear and other holes. It was impossible to say to which of these we owed cur salvation. We also, on the day before we started back to Loo, made a further examination of tne wonders of the stalactite . cave, and, penetrated once more into the Chamber of the Death; and 'passing beneath the spear ot the white Death, gazed, with sensations which it would be quite impossible for me to describe, at the mass of rock which had shut us off from excape, thinking, the while, of the priceless treasures beyond, of the mysterious old hag whose flattened fragments lay crushed beneath it, aud of the fair girl of whose tomb it was the portal. I say gazed at the “rock,” for examine as we would, we could find no traces of the join of the sliding door; nor, indeed, could we hit upon the secret, now utterly Jost,“that worked it, though we tried lor an hour or more. It was certainly a marvelous bit of mechanism, characteristic, in its massiie and _ yet inscrutable simplicity, of the minds whichprouuced it; and I doubt if the world has such another to show. / At last we gave it up in disgust, though if the mass had suddenly riseiCbeford our eyes, I doubt if we wonhF'have screwed up courage to step over Gagool’s mangled remains, and once more enter the treasure chamber, even in the sure and certain hope of unlimited diamonds. And yet I could have cried at the idea of leaving all that treasure, the biggest treasure probably that has ever in the world’s history been ac umulated in one ■PQt. But there was no help for it. Only dynamite could force its way through five feet of solid rock. And so we left it. Perhaps, in some remote, unborn century, a more fortunate explorer may hit'upon the “Open Sesame” and flood the world with gems. But, myself, I doubt it. Somehow, I seem to feel that the millions of pounds’ worth of gems that lie in the three stone coffers will never shine round the neck of an earthly beauty. They and Foulata’s boneswill keep cold company till the end of all things. With a sigh of disappointment -we made our way back, and next day started for Loo. Aud yet it was really very ungreateful of us to be disappointed; for, as the reader will remember, I had, by a lucky thought, token the precaution to fill the pockets of my old shooting coat with gems before we left our prisonhouse. A good many of these fell out in the course of our roll down the side of the pit, including most of the big Ones, which I had crammed in on the top. But, comparatively speaking, an enormous quantity still remained, including eighteen large st ones ranging from about one hundred to thirty carats in weight. My old shooting coat still held enough treasure to make us all, if not millionaires at least exceedingly wealthy men, and yet to keep enough stones each to make the three finest sets of gems in Europe. So we had not done so badly On arriving at Loo, we were most cordially received by Ignosi, whom we found well, and busily engaged in consolidating his power, and reorjanizfog the regiments which had suffered most in the great struggle with Twala. He listened with breathless interest to our wonderful story; but when we told him of old Gagool’s frightful end he thoughtful. “Rome hither,” he called, to a very old Induna (councilor), who was sitting with others in a circle round the king, but out of ear shot. The old man rose, approached, salntod, and seated himself. “Thou art old.” said Ignosi. “Ay, my lord the king! ’ “Teli me, when thou wast little, didst thou know Gagaoola the witch-doc-tre«?” “Ay, my lord the king!” “How was she then—young, like thee?” “Not so, my lord the king! She was even as now; old and dried, very ugly, and full of wickedness.” “She is no more, she is dead.” . J ‘Bo, O king! then is a curse taken from the land.” ' "Koom! I go, black puppy, who tore out the old dog’s throat Koom!” “Ye see, my brothers,”’said- Ignoei, “this was a strange woman, and I r» j >ice t hat she is dead. She would have let ya die in the dark place, and mayhap afterward she had found a way to slay me as ■he found a way to slay my father, and set up Twala. whom her heart loved, in hia place. Now go on with the tide; surely there never was the like!” After I had narrated alt the story of our escape. I, as we had agreed between ourselves that I should, took the opportunity to address Ignosi as to our departure from Kukuanaland. “And now, Ignosi, the time has came for ns to bid thee farewell,- and start to seek odos more our own land. Behold, Ignoei. with us thou earnest a servant, and new we leave thee a mighty king. If thou art grateful to us, remember to do even as thou didst promiw: to rule justly, to respect the law, and to put none to death without S WUifle. So shslt thou prosper. To-morrow, at break of day, Ignosi, wilt thou give us an escoit

who shall lead us across the mountains? Is it not so, 0 king?” * j Ignosi covered his face with his; hands for awhile before answering. “My heart is sore,” he said, at last;» “your words split my heart in twain. ' What have I done to ye, Incubu,; Macumazahn, and Bougwan, that ye should leave me desolate? Ye who stood by mtf in rebellion and battle, will ye leave me in the day of peace and victory? What will ye —wives? Choqea from jfut the'Jandl A. place to live in? Behold, the land is yours as far as ye can see. The white man’s houses? Ye shall teach mv people how to build them. Cattle for beef and milk? Every married man shall bring ye an ox or a cow. Wild game to hunt? Does not the elephant walk through my forests, and the river-horse sleep in the reeds? Would ye make war? My impis (regiments) wait your word. If there is anything i more that I can give, that' will I give ye-” . . ....

“Nay, Ignosi, we want not these things'” I answered; “we would seek our own place.” “Now do I perceive,” said Ignosi, bitterly, and with flashing eyes, “that it is the bright stones that ye love more than me, your friend. Ye have the stones; now would ye go to Natal and across the moving black water and sell them, and be rich, as it is the de ? ire of a white man’s heart to he. Cursed for your sake be the stones, and cursed he who seeks ihenj. Death shall it be to him who sets foot in the place of death to seek them. I have spoken, white men; ye can go.” I laid my hand upon his arm. “Ignosi,” I said, “tell us, when thou didst wander in Z.iluland. and among the white men in Natal, did not thine heart, turn to the land thy mother told thee of; thy native land, where thou didst see the light, and play when thou wast little, the land where thy place was?” “It was even so, Macumazahn.” “Then thus does our hearts turn to Then came a pause. When Ignosi broke it, it was iu a different voice. “I do perceive that thy words are, now as ever, wise and full of reason, Macumazan; t hat which flies in the air loves not to run along the ground; the white man loves not to live en the level of the black. Weil, ye must go, and leave my heart sore, because ye will be as dead to me, si nee from where ye will be no tidings can come to me. “But listen, and let all the white men know my words. No other white man shall cross the mountains, even ’ if any may live to come so far. I will see no traders with their guns and rum. My people shall fight with the spear, and drink water like their forefathers before them, j will have no praying-men to put fear of death into men’s hearts, to stir them up against the king, and make a path for the white men who follow to run on. If a white man comes to my gates I will send him bac„k; if a hundred come I will push them back; if an army comes 1 will make war on them with all my strength, and they shall not prevail against me. None shall ever come for the shining stones, no, not an army, for if they come I will send a regiment and fill up the pit, and break down the white columns in the caves and fill them with rocks, so that none can come even to that door of wpich ye speak, and whereof the way to move it is lost. But for ye three, Incubu, Macumazahn, and Bougwan, the path is always open; for behold, ye are dearer to me than aught that breathes. “And ye would go. Infadoos, my uncle, and my Induna, shall take thee by the baud and guide thee, with a regiment. There is, as I have learned, another way across the mountains that he shall show ye. Farewell, my brothers, brMe white men. See me no more, tor 1 have no heart to bear it. Behold, I make a decree, and it shall be published from the mountains to the mountains, your names, Incubu, Macumazahn, and Bougwan, shall be as the names of dead kings, and he who speaks them shall die.* So shall your memory bo preterved in the land for evrr. “Go now, ere my eyes rain tears like a woman’s. At times when ye look back down the path of life, or when ye are old and gather yourselves together to crouch before the fire, because the sun has no more heat, ye will think of. how we stood shoulder to shoulder in that great battle that thy wise words planned, Macumazahn; or how thou wast the point of that horn that galled Twala’s flank, Bougwan; whilst thou stoodst In the ring of the Grays, Incubu. and men went down before thine ax like coin before a sickle; ay, and of how thou didst break the wild bull’s (Twala’s) st rength ami bring his pride tp dust. Fare y a well however, Incubu, Macumazahn and Bougwan, my lords and my friends.” He rose, looked earnestly air us for a few seconds, and then threw the corner of his kaross over his lace from us. We went in silence. •This extraordinary and negat ve way of showing intense respect is by mi means vnknow I among African people, nn<l the result is that if, as Is usual, the name in question haa a significance, the meaning has to be expressed by an idiom or another word. In this a memory 1- preserved lor generations, or .Until the new word mi plants th - old one. Next day it dawn we left Loo, escorted by-onr old triend Infadoos, who was heart-broken at our departure, and the regimeht of Buffaloes. Early as the hour was, all *the main streets of the town was lined with multitudes of people, who gave us the royal salute as we passed at the head of the regiment, while the women blessed us as having rid the land of Twala, throwing flowers before ns as we went. It really was very affecting; and not the port of thing one is accustomed to meet with from natives. vary ludierens ineidankoociwred, however, which I rather welcomed as it gave us something to laugh at. Just before we get to the confines of the town a pretty young girl, with some beautiful lilies in her hand, oame running forward and presented them to Good (somehow they all seemed to like Good; I think his eyeglass and solitary whisker gave him a fictitious value), and then said she had a boon to ask. “Speak on.” “Let my lord show his servant his beautiful white legs, that his servant may look on them, and remember them all 'her days, and tell of them to her children; his servant has traveled four days* journey to see them, for the fame of them has gone throughout the land.” “I’ll be hanged if I do,” said Good, excitedly. “Come, come, my dear fellew,” said Sir Henry, “you can’t refuse to oblige a lady. ’ . ’ “I won’t,” said Good, obstinately; “it i« positively indecent” However, in the end he fomented to draw up hia trousera to the knee, amidst

notes of rapturons admiration from all the women present, especially the gratified young lady, and in this guise he had to walk till we got clear of the town. I Good’slegs will. I fear, never be so J greatly admired again. QI his melting teeth, and even of hie “transparent eye” . they wearied more or less, but of his legs, never. I As we traveled Infadoos told us that there was another pass, over the moun- j tains to the north of the one followed ] by Solomon’s great road, or rather that: there was a place irhere it was possible ! to climb down the wall of. a cliff that’ separated Kukuanaland fromthedesert,. and was broken by the towering of Sheba’s Breasts. It appeared, too, that rather more than two years previously a party of Kukuana hunters had descended this path into the desert in search of ostriches, whose plumes were much prized among them foi war head-dresses, and that in the course of their hunt they had been led far from the mountains, and were much troubled, by thirst. See ing, however, tree‘s on the horizon, they made toward them, and discovered a large-and fertile oasis of mfo-s in extent, and plentiully watered. It was by way of this oasis that he suggested that we should return, and the idea seemed »o ns a good ehe. as it appeared that, we should escape the rigors of th u mountain pass, and as some of the hunters were in attendance to guide us to the oasis, from wbicb, tney Stated, they could perceive more fertile spots far away in the desert. Traveling easily, on the night oi the fourth day ■ journey we found ourselves once more on the crest of the mountains that separate Kukuanaland from the desert, which rolled away in sandy billows at our feet, and about twentyfive miles to the north of Sheba’s Breasts. t At dawn bn the following" day, we were led to the commencement of a to descend the precipice, and gain the desert two thousand and more feet below. Here we bade farewell to that true friend and sturdy old warrior, Infadoos, who solemnly wished all good upon us, and nearly wept with grief. “Never, my lords.” he said, “shall mine ok! eyes see the like of ye again. Ah! the way that 1 nrubu cut nis men down in the rattle! Ab! for the sight of that stroke with which he swept off my brother T vSla’ head! It was beautiful—beautiful! I may never hone to see such another, ekliept perchanceluhappy dreams.” We were very sorry to part from him, indeed. Good was so moved that he gave him as a souvenir —what do you think?—an eyeglass. (Afterward we discovered that it was a spare one.) Infadoos was delighted, foreseeing that the possession of such an article would enormously increase his prestige, and after several vain attempts actually succeeded in screwing it into his own eye. Any thing more incongruous than the old warrior Jooked with an eyeglass I never saw. Eyeglasses don’t go well with leopard-skin cloaks and black ostrich plumes. Then, having seen that our guides were well laden with water and provisions, and having received a thundering farewell salute from the Buffaloes, we wrung the old warrior’s hand, and belgan our downward climb. A very arduous business it proved to be, but somehow that evening we found our* selves at the bottom without accident. “Do you know,” said Sir Henry that ng’ghtyaaweeat by our fire and gazed up at the beetling cliffs above us, “I think that there are .rorse places than Kukucnaland in the world, and that I have spent unhappier times than the last month or two, though I have never spent such queer ones. Eh! you fellows?” “I almost wish I were back,” said Good, with a sigh. As for myself,l reflected that all’s we’l that ends well; but in the course of a long life of shaves. I never had such shavts as those I had recently expe rienced. The thought of that battle still makes me feel cold all over, ami as for our experience iu the treasure chamber —! Next morning we started on a toilsome march across the desert-, having with us a good supply oi water carried by our live..guides, and tampel that night tn the open, starting again at dawn on the morrow. By midday of the third day’s journey we could see the trees oi the uasis of which the guides spoke, and by an hour before sundown we were once more walking upon grass and hsteniug to the sound of running water. CHAPTER XI FOUND. And now I come to perhaps the strangest thing that hapnened to us in all that strange business, and one which shows how wonderfully things are brought about. I was walking quietly along, some way iu front of the other two. down the banks of the stream, which ran from the ossistillit was swallowed up in the hungry desert sands, when I suddenly stopped and rubbed my eyes, as well 1 might. There, not twenty yards in front, placed in a charming situation, under the shade of a species of fig-tree, and facing to the stream, was a cozy hut built more or less on tne Kafir principle of grass and withes, only with a full length door inssead of a bee-hole. . “\Vhat the dickens,” sail I W myself, “can a hnt lie doing here?” Even as I said it, the doir of the hnt opened, and there limped out ot it a white man clothed in skins, and with enormous black b aid. I thought that I have-got a toeeb-of she- entt. H was impossible. No hunter ever came to such a place as this. Certainly liu hunter would ever settle in it. 1 stored and stared, and so did the other man, and joat at that juncture Hir Henry and Good came up. “Look here, you fellows,” I said “is that a whit.' man, or am I mad?” Sir Henry looked, aud Good looked, and then all of a sudden the lame white man with the black beard gave a cry, aud came hobbling toward us. " When he got close, he fell down in a sort of faint. Wi’.h a spring Sir Henry < was by hia side. I “Great Powers!” he cried, “it is my ; brother George!” j At the sound es the disturbance, an-* other figure, also clad in skins, emerged 1 from the hut, with a gun in nis, and i came runnir.g toward ua. Ou seeing 1 me he too gave a cry. i “Macumazahn,” be halloed, “don’t I von know me. Baah? I’m Jim the hunter. I lost the note you gave me to give to tbe Baas, and we have be<n here nearly two

years.” And the fellow fell at my feet, and rolled over and over, weeping for joy. “Yon careless seonndreli” I said; “yon ought to be well hided.” Meanwhile tbe man with the black beard had recovered, and got np, and he and Sir 'Henry were pump-handling away at each other, apparently without a word to say. But whatever they had quarreled about in the past (I suspect it was a lady, though I never asked), it was evidently forgotten now. “My dear old fellow,” burst out Sir Henry at last, “I thought that yon were dead. I have been over Solomon’s Mountains to find you, and now I come across you perched in the desert, like an old Aaavogel (vulture).” “I tried to go over Solomon’s Mountains nearly two years ago,” was the answer, spoken, in the hesitating voice of a man who has had little recent opportunity of using bis tongue, “but when I got here, a bowlder fell on my leg and crushed it, and I have been able to go neither forward nor back.” Then I came up. “How do you do, Mr. Neville?” I said; “do you remember me?” “Why,” he said, “isn’t it Qnatefmain, eh, and Good, toa? Hold on a minute, you fellows, I am getting dizzy again It is all so very strange, and, when a man has ceased to hope, so very happy.” That evening, oyer the camp-fire, George Curtis told ushis story, which, in its ways, was almost as eventful as our own, and amounted shortly t > this. A ’ ’ttle short of two years before, he had i started from Sitanda's Kraal, to try and reach the mountains. As for the note I had sent him by Jim. that worthy had lost it, and he had never heard of it till to-day. But, acting upon information he had received from the natives, he made, not for Sheba’s Breasts, but for the ladder-like descent of themountafu.-. doxn which we had just come, which was clearly a better route than t hai niafked out in old Don Silv&dra’s p-ati. In the desert he aud Jim suffered g-ear, hardships, but finally they reacht d this oasis, where a te’rible accident Befell George Curtis. On the day of their arrival, he was sitting by the stream, and Jim was extracting the hon >y from the nest of a stingless bee, which is to be found in the desert, on the top of the bank immediately above him. In so doinfc he loosed a' great bowlder of rock, which fell upon George Curtis’s right leg, crushing it frightfully. From that day he had been so dreadful lame, that he had found it impossible to go either forward or back, and had preferred to take the chances of dying on the oasis to the certainty of perishing in the desert. Ae for food, however, they bad got on pretty well, for they had a good eupply of ammunition and the oasis was frequented, especially at night, by large quantities of game, which came thither for water. These they shot, or trapped in pitfalls, using their flesh for food, and,after their clothes wore out, their hides for ing“And so,” he ended, “we Jived for nearly two years, like a second Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday, hoping against hope that some natives might come here and help us away, but none have come. Only last night we settled that Jim should leave us and try to reach Sitanda’s Kraal and get assistance. He was to go to-morrow, but I had little Hope of ever seeing him back again. Aud now you, of all people in the world, you, who I fancied had long ago forgotten all about me. and were living comfortably in old Eneland, turn up in a promiscuous way and find me where you least expected. It is the most wonderful thing I ever heard of, and the most merci ini, too. Then Sir Henry set to work and told him the mam facts of our adventures, sitting till late into the night to do it. “By Jove! ’ he said, when 1 showed him some of the diamonds, “well, at least you have got something for your pains, besides my worthless self.” Sir Henry laughed. “They belong to Quatermain and Good. It was part of the bargain that they should share any spoils there might be.” This remarx set me thinking, and havng spoken to Good I told Sir Henry that it was our unanimous wish that he should take a third share of the diamonds, or if he would not, that his share should be handed to his brother, who bad suffered even more than ourselves on the chance of getting them. Finally we prevailed upon him to consent to this arrangement, but George Curtis did not know of it till sometime afterward. And here, at this point, I think I shall end this history. Our journey aerc-es the desert back to Sitanda’s Kraal was most arduous, especially as we had to support George Curtis, whose right leg was very weak indeed, and continually throwing out splinters of bone; but we did accomplish it somehow, and to give its details would only be to reproduce much of what happened to us on the former occasion. Six months from the date of onr rearrival at Sitandi’s, where wo found our guns and our goods quite safe, though the old scoundrel in charge was much disgusted at our surviving to claim them, saw us all once more safe and sound at my little place on tbe Berea, -uear Durban, where I aiu now Writing, and whence I bid farewell to all who have accompanied me throughout the stranger trip I ever made in the c jurae of along and varied experience. Just as I had written the last word, a Kafir came np my avenue of orange trees, with a letter in a eleftetick, which he had brought from the post. It turned out to be from Sir Henry, and as it speaks for itself I give it in full. • “Brayley Hail; Ybitshlra. “Mt Dear Quatkbmain: —I sent you a line a few mails back to say the three of ufc, Geo ge, Good, and myself, fetched up all right in England. We got off the boat at Suutbauiptuu, and went up to town. You should have seen what a swell Good turned out the next day, beautitully shaved, frock coat fitting 1-keaglove, brand new eyeglass, etc. etc. I went and walked in the park with him, where I met some people I knew, and at on»*e told them the story otbis 'beautiful white legs.’ “He is furious, especially as some illnatured person has printed it in a aocietv paper. “To come to business, Good and I took the diamonds to Streeter’s to be valued, as we arranged, and lam really afraid to tell you what they put them at, it seems so enormous. They say that of course it’s morA or lere guess work, ss such stones have never to their knowledge been put on the market in anything like such quastitles. It appears that they are (with the exception of one or two of the largest) of the finest

water, and equal in everyway to the best Brazilian atones. I asked them if they would bay them, but they said it was beyond the& power to do so. and recommended us to sell by degrees, for fear we should flood the market. They offer; however, a- hundred and eighty thousand for a small portion of them. “You must come home, Quatermain, and see about these things, especially if you insist upon making the magnificent present of the third share, which does not belong to me, to my brother George. Ab for Good, he is no good. His time is too much occupied in shaving, and other matters connected with the vain adorning of the body. But I think he is still down on his luck about Foulata. He told me that since he has been home he hadn’t seen a woman to touch her, either a« regards her figure or the sweetneesof her expression. “I want you to come home, my dear old comrade, and buy a place near here. You have done your day’s work, and have lots of money now, and there is a place for sale quite close which wonld suit you admirably. Do come; the sooner the laetter; you can finish writing the story'ef our adventures on board ship. We have refused to tell the story till it is written by you, for fear that we shall not be believed, If you start on receipt of this, you will reach here by Christmas, and 1 book you to stay with me for that. Good is coming and George, and so, by the way, is your boy Harry (there’s a bribe for you). I have had him down for a week’s shooting, and like him. He is a cool young hand; he shot me in the leg, cut but the pellets, and then remarked upon the advantage of having a medical student in every shooting party. “Good-bve, old hoy; I can’t say any more, but I know that you will come, if it is only to ub iv, “ Yuur sincere friend, “llENrfy Curtis. “I*- R.—The_ln«ks of tha great bull that killed poor Khiva have been put up in the hall here, over tbe pair of i urfalo I'ortis you ga e in**, ami look magiiiticen’;; an-i the ax with which I chopped off Iwa'a’s head is stuck up over my writing table. I wish we could have managed to bring away the oato of chain armor. “H. 0.” To-day is Tuesday. There is a steamer going on Friday, and I really think i* must take Curtis at his word, and sail by her for England, it it is only to see my boy Harry and see about the printing of this history, which it a task I do not like to trust to anybody else. THS END.