(Continued from last week). SYNOPSIS CHAPTER I.—Winton Garrett, twen- ty-five and just out of college, calls by appointment on Archie Garrett, his New York cousin and executor, to receive is inheritance of $100,000. Archie, onest, an easy mark and a fool for uck, assures Winton that he is prac- tically a millionaire, as he has invested all but $10,000 in a rubber plantation fn either the East or West Indies and $n a controlling interest in the Big Malopo diamond mine, somewhere or other in South Africa, sold him as a special favor by a Dutch promoter mamed De Witt. CHAPTER IL—Winton, en route to fis mine, finds the town of Taungs wildly excited over a big strike at Malopo, including the 95-carat “De Witt diamond.” Two coach passengers are @& disreputable old prospector, Daddy Beaton, and his daughter Sheila. On the journey a passenger, who turns out to be De Witt himself, insults Sheila. Winton fights De Witt and knocks him out. Sheila tells him to turn back. She says that her father is a broken Eng- 1ish army officer, who has killed a man and is therefore in De Witt’'s power, that De Witt is all-powerful, being backed by Judge Davis, president of the diamond syndicate and also the president magistrate and judge of the native protectorate. CHAPTER IIL.—Winton finds Malopo fn a turmoil, both over the strike and the theft of the De Witt diamond. Win- ton foolishly discloses his identity to 8am Simpson, a Jamaican negro, sub- editor of the local newspaper. He more wisely confides in Ned Burns, watch- man at the Big Malopo, who tells him that the syndicate has planned to take eontrol of the mine the next morning. CHAPTER IV.—Winton finds that Sheila is cashier at the restaurant. He gffers his friendship. She rebuffs him. an Vorst, a notorious diamond thief, one of De Witt's men, slips the stolen Pe Witt diamond into Winton's pocket and two policemen club Winton and arrest him. He escapes them and when at his last gasp Sheila takes him into her house, bathes his wounds and saves him from his pursuers. CHAPTER V.—The next morning Sheila offers Winton help in escaping from Malopo. He convinces her with difficulty that he did not steal the De Witt diamond and that he is president of the Big Malopo company. Bruised and blood-stained he runs across town, breaks by force into the company meet- ing, and aided by a popular demonstra- tion proves his identity, blocks the re- organization and takes control. He asks Sheila to marry him. She laughs hysterically and refuses him. CHAPTER VI—Winton hires Seaton as compound manager and develops Big Malopo. Judge Davis, a philosophical old hypocrite of unknown past, offers him the syndicate’s co-operation. “Oth- erwise, he says, ‘“we’ll smash you, you d—d young fool.” ' CHAPTER VIL—Winton, by a scurrilous newspaper article about Sheila and himself, knocks Sam down and publicly threatens Judge Davis. He finds Sheila about to elope with De Witt, to save her father. He horsewhips De Witt. Sheila again refuses to marry him and says she is going away, never to see him or her father again. CHAPTER VIIL.—Winton hires Sam as night watchman. Van Vorst’s gang steal the De Witt diamond. Winton ursues Van Vorst, who escapes with he big stone. CHAPTER IX.—Winton is rescued by Sheila, on her way to a native village. There she kisses an old woman, only partly white, and says, “This is my mother.” He again asks her to marry him. She refuses him, because of the race bar. Heartsick, he sets out for Malopo with a native guide. infuriated CHAPTER X The Judge Wins the Race. A horse was tied to a cactus tree in a small dry gully that ran along the edge of the desert. The native held the stirrup for Winton, who climbed painfully into the saddle, and they set off together. The sun rose higher, sending down its scorching rays upon the sand, from which the reflected heat-waves beat upward, swathing the rider as if in a steaming shroud. Winton could hard- ly keep his seat. He felt dizzy and weak from the blow, from the long night ride, and from the shock of Sheila’s revelation. They had traveled perhaps a third of the distance to Malopo when he reined in his horse and slid from the saddle into the sand. He could go no further. And he lay down, staring up at the sky without any especial in- terest in anything. He watched the Hottentot turn and come back toward him. The man's clicking interrogations had no mean- ing for him. The Hottentot drew off a few paces and seemed to be medi- tating. Then he kneeled down beside Win- ton and went through his pockets. He took his watch and purse, opened the latter, found several sovereigns in it, and transferred them to his own pocket. He stood over Winton swing- ing his knobkerrie meditatively. Winton watched him, still without the least interest in what he was going to do. The native was evidently pon- dering whether to bring the knob of the heavy stick down upon his skull, and end his life, or to leave him to die in the desert. Presently prudence conquered. With a succession of grunts and clicks he mounted the horse, thrust his feet far into the stirrups, and set out across the desert. Winton, lying on the sand, watched bim until he was swallowed up in the dancing heat-waves. Once he reap- peared, a gigantic figure, outlined in mirage upon the sky above the hori- zon. Then he vanished, aad In place VICTOR. {| ROUSSEATL COPYRIGHT 4 W.G.CHAPMAN roofs of a town. ture. Surely that was Malopo, and surely it was very near. He saw the busy market square, and the great white-capped ox-wagons, drawn by their spans of long horns, moving through the dust whirls. He must reach Malopo. It couta not be many miles away. And the awful thirst that was consuming him brought him to his feet and sent him staggering toward the pictured town. He stumbled through the dust, his eyes taking in the scene avidly, He was searching for the location of the Continental across the busy square, All his material aims had dwindled to a pitcher of cold water and a dark place in which to sleep. Suddenly he stopped in consterna- tion. Across the scene he saw a train moving. Puffs of white smoke came from the engine. The train stopped, the engine, detached, went on alone puffing into the void, and disappeared Then Winton recognized this vision It was not Malopo, but Taungs. And even as he looked it vanished and the scorched desert lay before bim. And far away, against the hori zon, he saw the tiny speck that was the Hottentot on his horse, riding away. Winton looked wildly about him Far away were the outlines of the hills that sheltered Sheila. A des perate longing came over him to re turn, seek her, gain her, and dwell He turned. Then, far across the sands, thevs sprang suddeniy into view a lake, sel among ‘green pastures. with trees ahout it, and a farmhouse. A cool nreath from the water seemed to react him across the desert. He began tt stagger toward this mew vision, with his arms outstretched. Although his brain told him that this, too, was a mirage, he could not but follow the lure. And, believing against belief that he might actually be nearing it, he fought his way onward, as If the desert were a physical enemy to be overcome, stumbling and falling, and rising again. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and the blood in his veins seemed to have turned to vitriol. He was down again and could not rise. He looked up at the vision on the horizon and shook his fist furious- ly. He knew that he was beaten, that death awaited him: but he would die fighting. Everything that had hap- pened to him since he reached Malope seemed like this: illusion, golden prospects, prospects in love, in busi- ness, toward which he had groped in blind trustfulness, while in reality staggering through an arid desert of failure. He sank down, but in his delirium ne was still running across the sands, seeking an unattainable haven; then absolute unconsciousness enveloped him. It seemed centuries later when he opened his eyes, to discover himself in his own room in the cottage upon the claim. He thought he was dreaming; and when at last he convinced himself of the reality of the four walls he im- agincd that he had dreamed every- thing, from the assault to Sheila. Then the honest face of Sam ap- peared before him, like a dusky half- meon; and Winton had never seen Sam with so much pleasure in his life hefore. “What’s happened?’ he asked. “It's all right—it's all right, Mr. Garrett,” said Sam, putting a cup of water to his lips. Winton drank gratefully and, too weak to make in- quiries, went to sleep again. Later in the day he awoke, feeling more like himself. Sam was still at his bedside, in exactly the same posi- tion that he had occupied before. “Sam, tell me what's happened,” said Winton in perplexity. “Did I dream about the burglary?” “No, indeed, Mr. Garrett. But that’s all over and done with. If you'll go to sleep, sir—" “Did I ride out into the desert?” “Well—yes, Mr, Garrett. But you're back home now, and that's all—" “Tell me how I got here at once, Sam.” “Well, Mr. Garrett,” said Sam re- luctantly, “I happened to find you in the desert—" “How far out?” “About ten miles, sir. You were lost and you'd fainted, and your head was cracked open. You wanted to fight me, sir. I had quite a little diffi culty getting you home, sir. And you fell off the horse twice. You gave me this, Mr. Garrett,” he continued, point- ing to one optic, which Winton no- ticed was discolored. “But that’s all over and—" “When, Sam?’ “Two days ago, Mr. Winton. You see, your head had been cracked open, of him appeared the corrugated on, Winton struggled into a sitting pos- there an outlaw, as Seaton had done ble. I don’t think I'd have got you home, Mr. Garrett, if you hadn't sud- denly collapsed. The doctor was quite doubtful until this morning.” “Sam,” said Winton humbly, ! f shake hands with you?” \ After that Winton W lay very still, think- \ ANN Rut \ ing of Sheila \ \ NT 9 AR NLL! ton lay very still, thinking of Sheila. It was not until the following day that he learned what had happened. The police had discovered from the evidence of natives in the adjoining compound that Kash had been engaged | for weeks in the excavation of the tunnel. The expectation at the start seemed to have been that Winton would make his headquarters in Ma- lopo. His presence on the claim proved disconcerting; and since mur: der would have meant the certainty of ultimate arrest, and the prescribeu penalty, Van Vorst had resorted to the chloroform outrage to avoid the com: mission of a capital crime. However, Burns had heard the mer in the cottage, and had exchanged shots with Kash, killing the Armen: fan, but suffering a serious head in- jury from a blow by Van Vorst’s re volver butt. It was believed that 8 piece of bone was pressing on the speech center, for, though fully con: scious and considered out of danger Ned could only utter meaningless sounds, and was consequently unabl¢ to describe what had occurred. They had tried to get his evidence in writing, but the marks that he made upon the paper were meaning less. An inquest had been held promptly Burns had been exonerated, and a ver- dict of justifiable homicide returnea. Winton’s evidence was taken at his bedside for the information of the Bechuanaland police, who hoped #0 | 4nd go to Davis for a loan. One of the | round up the fugitive. Van Vorst’s action was the most inexplicable part of the affair. The general opinion in Malopo was that A PO and you weren't altogether responsi- | ony | i Sam's black hand went out and met (iimout the most careful searching.” Winton’s white one. After that Win- “Well, Sam?” “And so, sir, I believe that by treat- ing the Bantu as a man and a brother, he can be aroused to ethical idealism.” “Well, we'll see,” answered Winton. “For Heaven's sake go slow, and above all don’t let them leave the compound When at last Winton was able to | leave the cottage, he went at once to the compound, to discover that dis- | cipline was practically in abeyance. | | i | i | The negroes stared at him insolently as they dawdled over their tasks. Win- ton could not reprove Sam very sharply in view of his obligations to him. He 8id, however, put him back in his old position as night watchman. Sam was almost tearful, asserting that his plan was just on the verge of success, and Winton, to comfort him, left the sphere of his duties a little un- defined, a situation of which Sam was to take the fullest advantage. Winton realized that to put a negro in charge of negroes was a hopeless proposition. The natives would not obey one of their own color. He en- gaged a new compound manager to take Seaton’s place, a little man named Josephs, tough and wiry, who had been favorably recommended to him some time before, and was known to be effi- cient and honest. Josephs was one of those little men who are inspired with volcanic energy and passions. Like the late Barney Barnato, of South African fame, he was a great fighter. Winton watched him tackle the biggest Bechuana of the | gang and put him to sleep in the first the man, known for years as the most crafty and cautious purchaser of stolen stones in the country, had sud- denly developed a streak of vicious- ness and adventure. There had been talk of sending a body of police into the native territories in pursuit of him, but ultimately it was decided to telegraph all the border posts to watch for him. Through one of these Van Vorst must eventually pass on his way back to civilization. What surprised Malopo most, per- haps, was the fact that Van Vorst had gone to such pains in order to secure a single stone of no extraordinary value ' —at least, not of enough to make its possession worth outlawry. Winton puzzled over this for some time until Sheila’s explanation suddenly came back into his memory. If Davis and De Witt had plotted the robbery, in order to get him into their power, they would stop at noth- ing; and they must have some knowl- edge of the claim’s value which he lacked. Being strictly forbidden to leave his bed for some days, on account of the fever induced by his wound and sun- stroke, Winton fumed and fretted in his bed. He was sure everything in the compound was going wrong, in spite of Sam’s assurances that he was personally surpervising things. | Seaton had disappeared, and every- body suspected him of having be- trayed the whereabouts of the stone to the conspirators. His defection was a serious loss; Winton would almost have forgiven the old man if he had returned. “You are sure everything is going right, Sam?” inquired Winton for the | tenth time. “Indeed, yes, sir. I believe, Mr. Gar- rett, that you will have an agreeable shock when you discover the success | of my new methods,” answered the negro. | “What's that? Winton demanded. “I have introduced a few changes in management, sir, based upon the theory that the Bantu is essentially a human. I am endeavoring to introduce the idea of social co-operation among our la- borers.” “All right,” groaned Winton, feeling that remonstrance was hopeless. “Don’t go too strong, though, amd watch the devils carefully for stolen stones.” “That, Mr. Garrett, is where my plan enters,” replied Sam with dignity. “It is my belief, sir, that the so-called primal instincts of the Bantu race, which is erroneously supposed to dis- ' regard the distinction, In its finer shades, between meum and tuum, are | as mythical as the legend which falsely ascribes to it an abnormal taste for the gallinaceous avian of the edible do- mesticated species.” What methods?” round, and felt that Sam’s work bade fair to be undone. He went away sat- isfied that his affairs were in good hands. The news of the washing was most discouraging. The water supply was consistently meager, and nothing had been found in the small amount of rock | that had been pulverized except a few tiny stones, of practically no value for jewelers’ purposes. Malopo no longer pelieved in the claim, the rush had stopped, and there was a considerable exodus in the coaches that left for Taungs. And yet Winton was positive that the claim was a bonanza, and that the syndicate knew it. He began to look about him for a loan. He soon discovered that it was im- possible to raise capital in Malopo in the face of the syndicate’s opposition. Besides, the value of the Big Malopo claim was consistently decried. In the reaction following the extravagant faith that had been placed In it, men used the name of the property as a synonym for anvthing worthless Malopo as a term of scorn. Winton overheard that, and knew that the syn- dicate’s antagonism stooped to the storehouses may be destroyed, say by a blow strong enough to rupture the brain tissue without destroying the vital centers. Then the corresponding faculty is unable to express itself, “Now the speech center is one of the most interesting of all, because it is | the most important, and we have it ! mapped out exactly. Every human being speaks by means of a little tract called Broca’s convolution. There's a ! reading center and a writing center, a ! music-reading center, a fiddle-playing center—probably ; and so on. It's just like putting a series of telephones into a street of houses. There's even a | French center and a German center, and a Hottentot center, formed in the brain of the linguist. And if you |; smash one particular telephone, of ! course nothing can come through. | “Burns has had his speaking and writing centers smashed. In the case of a very young person there would be hope of recovery, because we use only half of our brains. Most of us use the left half. A child, whose left speak- ing center had been destroyed, could construct a new center in the un- | used right half of its brain. That's because its brain is so plastic. But that can hardly be done after thirty, | and practically never after reaching middle life. Why, you know yourself that it is impossible for a middle-aged person to pick up a mew language as a child can. Well, Burns must be sixty. His case is hopeless, though he will be as well as ever physically in a little while.” | That seemed to be the case. Burns was recovering rapidly, but there was no sign of any return of the faculty of speech. Winton was greatly worried about the old man; he went constantly to the hospital, and sent him all sorts of dainties. But he seldom stayed long at Ned's bedside. The pathetic look in his eyes, the constant effort to convey some meaning, and the Bible passages, of which Winton could make neither head nor tail, were too dis- tressing. It had now become inevitable that Winton should approach Judge Davis on ‘the subject of a loan. He braced himself to the invidious task and went i to the judge's office. | He found Davis alone at his desk. The old man looked up, nodded in a friendly way, as if nothing had passed, and offered Winton a seat, which was, however, declined. “Well, my dear friend, I have thought that I should se you soon,” | he said. “I am humiliated and ashamed of Malopo when I think that you should have been subjected to such ' an outrage. The loss of the stone, the Even the katfirs called each other > least weapon that could be used against | him. ' come to you. He would have to swallow his pride independent shareholders had hinted pointedly at court action unless the de- velopment of the claim proceeded with greater energy. Before taking this step, however, Winton, as soon as he was well, went to see Ned in the hospital. He found ‘the old man propped up in bed. reading the Bible, which he was able to do as well as ever. Ned knew him at once and nodded and gurgled. “Well, Ned, how are you feeling?” inquired Winton, sitting down by the bedside. Burns understood perfectly, but the flood of meaningless syllables that poured from his throat conveyed no sense whatever. It was evident that Burns was desperately anxious to tell something, and that he felt his position keenly. Winton saw, too, that the old man was not quite certain whether his re- marks conveyed any meaning or not, and he looked at him so hopefully when he had finished speaking that Winton could hardly bear to let him realize the truth. But Burns did realize it, and two tears trickled down his cheeks upon the open book. Winton produced a sheet of paper and a pencil, and handed them to Ned, who, resting the Bible on his knee, be- gan to scribble with this as a backing for the sheet. He handed the result to Winton, but hopelessly, for he could read that he had written nonsense. It consisted of a number of words and syllables, strung together, but without the small- est intelligent significance. Suddenly Ned snatched away the paper and tore it into pieces, and flung himself back moodily upon his pillow. The doctor, a young graduate from Edinburgh, had seen the incident. He drew Winton away. “His mind's clear,” said Winton. “As clear as yours or mine.” “And he understands what is said to dim.” “REvery word.” “What's the trouble then?” “The speech and writing centers in the brain are affected,” answered the doctor. “We have them marked out very accurately, you know. I expected this before Burns recovered conscious- ness, as soon as I saw the location of the wound.” “Bone pressing on them?” “No. If there were I slould have operated. The blow on the head rup- tured an artery, and the rush of blood destroyed some of the brain tissues.” “Will he get well?” The doctor's expression answered Winton before his words. “You see,” he explained, “every ac- quired human faculty has its area In the brain. Not the moral character, as the laity are apt to think. A man isn’t truthful, or brave, or generous because he has ‘bumps,’ as the phrenologists suppose. But what we learn in life is stored up and repro- duced when needed in certain definite quarters. In rare cases one of these | i ‘it, to compel me to.” me material loss, is far less than the moral indignity.” “Judge, there is pv need to com- miserate with me,” said Winton an- grily. “You can guess why I have I am ready to accept the proposal you made me. Kindly deal with me on a business basis, for we understand each other very well” “Dear me, are you quite sure you know me, Mr. Garrett?’ inquired the judge blandly. “It's immaterial.” “Quite so,” responded Davis nodding his head briskly. “Then we will con- duct our business on a business basis, as you wish. So you couldn’t raise that capital in Malopo?” “No, and you knew it all the time.” “I suspected it,” the judge admitted. “You and I, my friend, know what a valuable property we own. Dut Ma- lopo doesn’t know it. A little—just a little more development, and 1 shouldn't be surprised If we scoop up the stones by the pailful. Kindly fill out this transfer for thirty-three shares, and I'll write you a check for two thousand six hundred and forty pounds, representing four-fifths of their par value. I'll waive the brok- er's fees. The money to be repaid in one month, or the shares to become the property of the syndicate.” “Three months.” corrected Winton. “One month,” answered the judge! courteously. “My fraternal offer was made some time ago, Mr. Garrett.” ° | Winton sat down at last and looked at the judge’s shrewd old face. That meant the certain loss of his control- | ling interest. All the rock that had | been brought up had already been | picked over. With only a month's | grace, it was practicaliy impossible to hope to make repayment, unless a ' stone of great value should be discov- ered. That was the least likely thing in the world. The diamonds, if diamonds there were, were distributed at a deeper level, and it would mean months before the diggers could reach the matrix of the pipe in which they lay. Then it required weeks of disintegra- | tion under sunlight before the rock could be thoroughly broken up and tested. “You might as well buy my shares outright,” said Winton “angrily. “I am willing,” answered the judge. “No, I'll accept your terms and make a fight,” said Winton. “It's a sort of cat and mouse game, Judge Davis. It 1 go ahead and develop I have to bor- row from you; if I don’t you'll issue a court injunction or whatever you call “You think I am unjust, Mr. Gar- rett?”’ “Let's call it greedy, judge.” | “Has it occurred to you, Mr. Gar- rett, that the syndicate was the orig- inal holder of the claim? We are only taking back what should never have passed out of our hands. You can sell to us, or you can have a run for your =. my friend—a month's run,” “I'll run,” said Winton, putting has name i the blank transfer. The judge put it back in his desk. “Mr. Garrett, you interest me very much,” he said. “Well, you interest me,” sald Win- Texan A. TA TRA ER, ton. “You are the most extraordinarily brazen hypocrite that I have ever met.” “Now do you think that?’ inquired Judge Davis, apparently in surprise. “I have heard that said about me be- fore.” “It didn’t worry you, did it?” “Not in the least, my friend. Hy pocrisy, young man, is a mere tribute to the forces that rule the world.” “What are they?” “Greed, selfishness, and injustice.” “You think there are no higher mo tives?’ asked Winton, amazed at the judge's frankness. “Undoubtedly, my dear sir. Every quality has its opposite, of course. But note this: the good qualities are those of the fools and failures.” “ «What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul? ” “What shall it profit a man if, hav- ing lost all that makes life dear, he loses the rest? Listen, young man! . fy, The money will be repaid one month p, from today, or # the shares pass 'to the syndicate. / J ol 7) 5 Twenty-five years ago I was an ideal istic, middle-aged fool. Look!” (Continued next week). THIS MAK A BRAVE “SUCKER” Spent Four Years Running Down the Crooks Who Had Swindled Him, A medal should be struck in honor of the Texas man who spent four years running down a gang of crooks who had defrauded him. Besides showing unusual bravery—unusual for the man who has been a sucker—he rendered conspicuous public service, says the Milwaukee Journal, Estimates say that the American public pays a toll of $1,000,000,000 a vear to swindlers who use the mails to defraud. Then there are the fake stock schemes, the fake land selling and all other ways of separating a man from his money. The tribute to the thieves goes on despite thie bes: efforts of the post office and the bet- ter business bureaus. For the lure of the chain letter, the offer of Lone eiu- ployment in a field where the victim has had no training and the chance to get wealth in the oil fields seems about as strong as the lure of the bait for an inquisitive muskellunge. The confidence man is aided by that trait in human nature which makes a victim loath to admit that he has been a sucker. He is more likely to promise himself that he will be wiser next time and pocket his loss. Many swindlers aim at collecting small sums only, on the theory that the loser will not make a row. But there is sense in the re- quest of the Post Office department that every sum lost by such schemes be reported, even though it be but 10 cents. If all who were defrauded . went after the confidence man reso- lutely enough he would find things too lively for his prosperity. FINLAKD A BILINGUAL LAND Both Swedish and Finnish Tongues Used, the Latter Being in Ascendant. To the average traveler the matter of language is apt to be the most vital aspect of any foreign country. Tri- lingual Switzerland is familiar even to the impoverished continental vis- itor, but bilingual Finland may be more of a surprise. Nor will the fact that the choice of languages is confined to Swedish and Finnish make the trip any easier. Formerly the Swedish tongue was in the ascendant among the cultivated classes, having been the vehicle of ex- pression of the famous poet, Rune- berg. Now, however, the pendulum is swinging the other way, and you will find even Swedish people adopting Finnish names. Of course, all educated persons speak both languages inter:l angeably, even at the family dinner table. In the rural districts, however, it is dif- ferent. Groups of Swedish peasants in the south and west parts of the coun- try and in the Aaland islands speak ; only (heir native ton<ue, and the rest of the peasants confine themselves to Finnish, The writers who used Swedish were the first ones who extolled Finland as a nation. Runeberg was followed by Tepelius, another poet and story writer, a particular favorite with children, and Fredrik Cyvnaeus de- voted himself to history. This activity met with a response from literary men who preferred Finnish, so that now equal bodies of characteristically Finnish work have sprung up in both languages.—Living Age. ——Subscribe for the “Watchman.”
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