aw
(Continued from last week).
SYNOPSIS
CHAPTER I.—Winton Garrett, twen=
8y-five and just out of college, calls by
pointment on Archie Garrett, his New
ork cousin and executor, to receive
# inheritance of $100,000. Archie,
nest, an easy mark and a fool for
uck, assures Winton that he is prac-
tically a millionaire, as he has invested
11 but $10,000 in a rubber plantation
n either the East or West Indies and
mn a controlling interest in the Big
alopo diamond mine, somewhere or
ether in South Africa, sold him as a
special favor by a Dutch promoter
mamed De Witt.
CHAPTER IIL.—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
Brin 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
s that her father is a broken Eng-
i army officer, who has killed a man
nd is therefore in De Witt's power,
fat De Witt is all-powerful, being
cked by Judge Davis, president of
the diamond syndicate and also the
resident magistrate and judge of the
mative protectorate.
CHAPTER III.—Winton finds Malopo
fn a turmoil, both over the strike and
the theft of the De Witt diamond. Win-
on foolishly discloses his identity to
am 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
flers his friendship. She rebuffs him.
Can Vorst, a notorious diamond thief,
me of De Witt's men, slips the stolen
Be Witt diamond into Winton’s pocket
end two policemen club Winton and
arrest him. He escapes them and
when at his last gasp Sheila takes him
fato her house, bathes his wounds and
saves him from his pursuers.
CHAPTER V.—The next morning
eila offers Winton help in escaping
om Malopo. He convinces her with
ifficulty that he did not steal the De
itt diamond and that he is president
of the Big Malopo company. Bruised
d blood-stained he runs across town,
Bo by force into the company meet-
ing, and aided by a popular demonstra-
tion proves his identity, blocks the re-
erganization and takes control. He
asks Sheila to marry him. She laughs
hysterically and refuses him.
CHAPTER VI—Winton hires Seaton
compound manager and develops Big
ir 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 young fool.”
CHAPTER VIL—Winton, infuriated
Py 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,
0 save her father. He horsewhips De
itt. Sheila again refuses to marry
him and says she is going away, never
to see him or her father again.
CHAPTER VIIIL.—Winton hires Sam
as night watchman. Van Vorst's gang
steal the De Witt diamond. Winton
Pursues 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.
CHAPTER X.—Winton succumbs. His
guide robs and deserts him. Sam res-
cues him. Burns's brain is affected; he
cannot tell what happened. The work-
ers in the mine return no stones. Win-
ton is forced to borrow money from the
syndicate, agreeing to pay in a month
or lose the mine.
CHAPTER XI.—The syndicate makes
further plans to oust Wintor. His men
search the native workers snd secure
many large diamonds. Seaton appears,
eonfesses the plot and says he's come
to take his medicine.
CHAPTER XIl.—Seaton is tried for
diamond buying from the natives be-
fore Judge Crawford, who has suc-
ceeded Judge Davis. The crowd re-
rd De Witt as the real criminal and
Believe Davis to be behind De Witt.
aton confesses everything. He tells
how he shot a man and how De Witt,
knowing about it, forced him to do all
kinds of crooked work. De Witt, think-
jog Davis has abandoned him to his
fate, voluntarily testifies that Davis is
the man whom Seaton mistakenly
thought he had killed and that Sheila
is Davis’ daughter. Davis drops in a
faint. De Witt flees from Malopo. Sea-
ton is acquitted.
CHAPTER XIIIL—Davis, much broken,
is anxious to find Sheila and deter-
mined to kill Seaton. Davis and Win-
ton find Sheila and her mother: and
Seaton in a native village. Davis and
his wife recognize each other and go
temporarily insane, talking as if twenty
vears had been obliterated. Seaton
flees on horseback. Davis regains his
mental balance and »ursues Seaton.
The two men race “ide by side. Davis
trying to get his hands on Seaton.
Then the narrow valley fills up with an
enormous herd of migrating spring-
buck. Part of the herd plunges over a
precipice, burying both men under a
mountain nf dead antelope. Winton can
find nothing of the two men but some
brown stains on the rocks below. Hor-
ror-stricken, he returns to the village
to find Sheila crouching beside her dead
mother.
But as he spoke he heard a crackling
sound above him and thin wreaths of
smoke began to coil through the roof.
The mob had withdrawn a little space
and howled in triumph around the cot-
tage.
The structure was of brick, but there
was a wooden roof, baked so dry by
the sun that the rains had hardly af-
fected it. Burning brands had lit on
it in half a dozen places.
As Winton looked wildly about him
he caught sight of Sam going through
extraordinary antics. He had began
to tear off his clothes as fast as he
was able, until he stood up bare to the
waist. In spite of their desperate sit-
uation Winton was shocked at the
negro's action.
Y
VICTOR
ROUSSEALL
COPYRIGHT sy W.G.CHAPMARN
“Have you gone mad, Sam?’ he de-
manded angrily.
But Sam, not satisfied, snatched up
a knife and began ripping off the legs
of his trousers at the knees. He
picked up the spear. The transforma-
tion was astounding. Sam Simpson
had evolved into one of the wild ne-
groes of the compound. :
The roof was blazing. There came
another rush against the door. The
yells were deafening. Winton caught
Sheila to him and tried to reassure
her in the brief interval of recharging
his revolver. But the girl was terror-
stricken, and she could hardly hide
her fears. She clung to Winton,
trembling.
“The tunnel!” gasped Sam,
ging Winton by the arm.
drag-
And the thought of this had not en-
tered Winton’s mind. The safe had
stood over the hole ever since the
robbery. They pulled it aside. Be-
neath it gaped the excavation.
“Get down, Sam,” cried Winton as
the savages, believing that Winton
was cowed, or had no more ammuni-
tion, made a concerted rush. The door
began to splinter.
Sam lowered himself, Winton swung
Sheila down and followed. He meant
to try and replace the safe from below,
but his feet had hardly touched the
soft earth before the door crashed
from its hinges. He dived after his
companions, and heard the mine boys’
shouts of discovery. Their feet, which
seemed immediately overhead, made
the walls of the tunnel tremble. Fine
dust from the concussion set the three
to choking.
“Go on with Miss Sheila,
whispered Winton,
He leveled hls revolver along the
tunnel. It was quite dark, but urp-
less his ears failed him it would Le
impossible to miss his mark,
He heard the natives whispering to-
gether above, and the sudden silence
Sam,”
made the. tunnel eerier than ever.
They were at an immense disadvan-
tage, for it was impossible to hurl a
spear within the narrow passage,
though one could be used for thrust-
ing with deadly effect. But first the
thruster would have to assume a prone
position, and Winton knew that his
revolver would have thus several sec-
onds’ start of the spear.
He waited, hardly breathing, until
there came to his ears, very faintly,
the touch of bare feet upon the
ground, followed by the suppressed
breathing of a man not far away.
One of the negroes was evidently
at the bottom of the excavation, but
the excavation immediately beneath
the safe was wider than the tunnel
itself, and a projecting angle of soft
earth afforded shelter. The man—or
men—might therefore be out of the
direct line of fire. Winton drew a
match softly from his pocket and
struck it suddenly along the side of
his revolver butt. The little flaring
light revealed the white eyeballs and
peering face of one of the savages,
not a dozen feet distant. Another
face was looking over the shoulder.
Everything above was deathly still,
The man’s arm was drawn back, the
Spear, with a murderous shovel-blade,
held ready to thrust. Winton fired
point-blank into the open mouth.
The match went out simultaneously
with the discharge. There followed
a choking cry and the sound of blood
bubbling from the threat. An out-
burst of yells from above rolled in a
hideous echo along the tunnel. The
second savage turned and began
scrambling back like a mole, but Win-
ton fired again and heard the shuffling
stop, as if the bullet had been instan-
taneously fatal. A shéwer of earth
came rattling down.
And now the faint, reflected flare
that came into the tunnel, and the
roaring from above told Winton that
the cottage was ablaze. The sounds
of shouting grew fainter. The negroes | -
Winton raised the body of the man |
nearest him and set it in the tunnel !
in such a way that it formed an ob-
stacle to anyone approaching from |
the rear, He would hear the sound of |
its dislodgment if the attack were
renewed.
But the savages had had enough of
the tunnel. Winton loaded his re-
volver with his last handful of car-
tridges and began scrambling after
Sam, calling in a low tone.
He heard Sam’s distant answer, and
made his way as fast as he could along
the tunnel. Would the natives be |
walting at the other end? They could |
must have been driven out by fire. |
|
|
|
make the distance above ground mdre
swiftly than they could. But Winton
doubted whether their minds would
work in that manner, with plunder to
be had in every compound store along
the diamond ridge. He was right in
his presumption, for presently he saw
Sam and Shella silhouetted against
the faint light at the other end of the
tunnel,
He caught Sheila to him flercely.
“Keep up your courage,- dear!” he
whispered. “We are going to be free.
. Stay here with Sam, while I go for:
ward and explore.” :
{ For a moment she clung to him and
' pleaded with him not to expose him-
self to danger, but it was wonderful
. how brave she was. Instrueting Sam
: to stay with Sheila, Winton began to
; creep forward along the ground.
{ But in a moment he saw Sam beside
him. “Mr. Garrett, I'll go,” said the
negro. “I guess it's safer for me,
looking like this.”
That was a fact. Reluctantly—for
he would have preferred to face the
: danger—Winton went back and al-
: lowed Sam to proceed upon his scout-
' ing mission.
| All along the fields the stores were
burning fiercely. Against the light of
; the leaping flames could be seen the
| bodies of the savages, struggling to
' carry off their plunder. Bales of cot-
tons and cloth, blankets, packing
cases of comestibles were being borne
on naked black shoulders. The store
on the compound into which the fugi-
ERR
tives had emerged was, however, al-
ready gutted, and there were no na-
tives immediately at hand.
It was the old story, repeated a hun-
dred times in the bloody history of
South Africa, of the untamable nature .
of the aborigine reasserting itself
Winton, a few yards from Sheila, |
suddenly perceived the body of a man
He saw Sam
worming his
away along the
ground upon
his stomach.
lying face downward upon the grouira
immediately inside the barbed wii.
which separated the compound i.
which he was from that adjoining.
He recognized it as that of Josephs.
it was pinned te the earth with two
upright spears. ‘Death must have been
instantaneous.
Winton's inws elamped with a So
of fury. He sprang to his feet. bu!
rementhering the urgent need of cau
tion, lay down again beside Sheil:
watching Sam, ?
He saw the negro worming his way
along the ground upon his stomach.
Suddenly Sam turned toward him with
an imperative gesture to lie still
Looking up, Winton perceived a Katir
sentry, armed with a spear and shield.
on guard at the desert road behind the
devastated and smoldering store thar
had belonged once to Kash.
The presence of this man was omi-
nous. ‘If the outbreak had been con-
fined to the diamond compounds, no
sentry would have been set. The fact
of his presence betokened a precon-
certed rising, guided by shrewd
minds from outside.
It betokened something more. For
the man who had placed him there
must have had a personal interest in
Winton's capture. Yet Winton wus
no object of hatred on the part of the
natives—rather he was one of the
more popular among the claim-holders.
But Winton realized only the first
part of the purpose, not its implica-
tions. He watched Sam spring to his
feet and advance boldly toward the
sentry, brandishing his spear. There
was nothing to show that Sam was
other than one of the marauders. He
was just as black, and in the night he
looked just as ferocious as any of
them. The sentry turned and looked
at Sam in inquiry, then went forward
to meet him.
Sam’s muscular arm went back, and
the spear, driven unerringly, by some
atavistic impulse, went home through
the Kafirs’ throat.
The sentry dropped without a word
or sound, the spear-point sticking into
the ground behind him, supporting the
falling corpse grotesquely for a mo-
ment, till the body, collapsing side-
wise, rolled into the road and lay still.
Sam came back slowly. “I've killed
him,” he began to whimper.
“A good thrust, Sam”
“I've killed a human being. God
forgive me!” whispered Sam, shaking
as if he had an attack of fever.
“Come along,” said Winton,
must make the desert now.
work round toward Malopo.
“We
We can
If need
for a day or two. We must hurry.”
The tears were streaming down the
negro's cheeks. With a gulp Sam
pulled himself together. Winton
raised Sheila to her feet, and the
be we'll hide in the bed of the stream
. three raced across the road, crossed
the ridge, and saw the desert before
them,
It was beginning to grow light.
From where they halted to get their
breath they could see the long line of
. blazing stores and hear the distant
shouting. A sudden outburst of rifle
firing from the direction of the town
gave the hope that Malopo had been
warned in time and was putting up a
defense.
They hurried on, keeping below the
ridge, going a little distance into the
: hin ' rearing horses, dashed at Sam.
against white supervision grown lax, ° tom De Sam roll on the ground ané
i = yk
ea
desert, then turning to strike the bed
of the winding river, now a succession
of pools, with a freeway of stones and
boulders.
Once between the banks they would
be in reasonable security. There were
numerous caves and excavations
there, in one of which a temporary
refuge could be found. But as they
halted upon the bank Sam uttered a
cry and pointed toward the desert.
Three men were riding toward them,
with the evident intention of inter-
cepting their flight.
They were just visible in the twli-
light, which made their figures, and
those of their horses, at once enor-
mous and shadowy.
Two of them, from their firm, stir
rupless seat, were obviously Hotten-
tots. The third was a white man.
There seemed nothing to fear and
much to hope. The Hottentots were
never on friendly terms with the
Bechuanas, whom they despised as
savages, and the presence of their
master was still more reassuring.
The three spurred their horses and
came. galloping up abreast. They were
within five and twenty paces when
Winton recognized the white man as
De Witt.
Before he realized the man’s hos
tile intentions De Witt had ridden
straight at him. The Hottentots, with
Win:
then he himself was down in a tangle
of plunging hoofs.
He had a dim knowledge of firing
his revolver, and then the scene faded
out of his consciousness as quietly as
if it were some moving-picture with
drawn from the white screen.
CHAPTER XV
Pursuit in the Desert,
“Mr. Garrett—wake up!
sake, open your eyes, sir!”
Winton obeyed. The river bank:
were swimming around him. He was
lying on the stones in the bed of the:
stream, and Sam was kneeling beside |
him.
“Sheila!” Winton muttered.
“He's got her, Mr. Garrett.”
Winton struggled into a sitting pe
sition and tried to collect himself
“Who—when?”’ he mumbled.
“De Witt—half an hour ago.
horse kicked you on the head ang
stunned you. I was knocked down
too. You shot one of the Hottentots
and they snatched up Miss Sheila anc
put her on his horse and rode away
with her.” -
Winton got on his feet, and, witli
Sam's aid, staggered up the bank.
was quite light now. From Malopc
came the Intermittent outbreaks os
rifle firing, but there were no negroe:
in sight. The flelds were totally de
serted, the gutted stores were bura
ing out in smoke.
of the desert lay before Winton's eyes
the risen sun dancing on the horizou.
The body of the dead Hottentot lay a
few yards away, but there wus uo
living thing in sight.
“We must get horses, Sam,” said
Winton.
“Yes, sir. There's a horse feeding:
down the river.”
“What's that?’ cried Winton increu-
ulously.
“It's one of the Malopo Deeps
horses, Mr, Garrett. It’s that gray.
He's a fast goer. He's saddled, too.
The boys must have tried to capture
him, but he broke his halter and got
away.”
“We must catch him, Sam.”
“I've caught him, sir. I saw y.u'd
be coming to in a few minutes, and
I went after him and tied him te a
tree.”
“Sam,” cried Winton bYrokeniy, “I
can’t thank you enough-—not now.
Get him, Sam! Get him!"
Sam came back in five minutes,
leading the horse. Winton knew it
very well. It was not so fust as De
Witt’s, but it had won prizes at the
local handicaps. It was in first-class
condition.
Sam had put one foot into the stir-
rup when Winton dragged him down.
“Let me go, Mr. Garrett. Let me
go!” he pleaded. “You're not fit, sir.”
“I'm going, Sam. I'll be back with
Miss Sheila—or I'll not be back. No
use, Sam. Leave it to me. It's my
job, confound you!”
Sam took his foot out of the stir-
rup with a sigh. The tears were
streaming down his black face.
“You're right, sir,” he said humbly,
“I
But neither man could speak, and
Winton, wringing Sam’s hand, mount-
ed and rode away.
His burning anger gave him strength.
The thought of Sheila’s danger, of De
Witt's trick at the end, nerved him
to desperation. Within two days the
wheel of his fortunes had made a coun-
plete revolution. Only the thought of
Sheila in De Witt’s power enabled him
to maintain his mental equilibrium.
And for a while, as he rode over the
lonely desert, touched here and there
with the green of the young grass,
he felt like a shadow moving in a
phantom world.
He tried to concentrate his attention
on the tracks of the three horses,
which were distinct in the rain-soaked
ground. So long as these were plain
In sight he felt that he was nearing
Sheila every moment, in spite of the
fact that he could see no one. Ie
discovered that what his horse lacked
in speed it made up in staying powers,
and hours passed without any slacken-
ing of the easy “triple” pace. .
But the morning wore away, and it
became clear to Winton that De Witt
had at least maintained his lead. It
was almost midday when he discov-
ered that the tracks had disappeared.
For some time they had been grow-
ing less distinct, for the sandy earth
For God’, i
Thu |
I
The broad expanse :
of the desert had- yielded to flinty
ground. Winton went back, found
them, and discovered that the horses
had struck off at an angle leading far
away from the headquarters of the
tribe.
Hitherto the horses had been travel-
ing almost immediately toward the
hills. Yet it had seemed improbable
that De Witt could have allied him-
self with the Bechuanas. They would
have rejected overtures from any
white man; and De Witt, scoundrel
though he was, would hardly have
made them. Winton’s suspicions now
became a certainty in his mind. The
Dutchman, who was well known
throughout the desert country, had
gathered about himself a few wander-
ing Hottentots, probably old servants
or cattlemen, by whose aid he hoped
to strike across the desert into an-
other territory.
The tracks led due west, toward the
heart of the almost unknown Kala- |
hari, the desert of salt pans, inhabited
only by a few wandering Bushmen and
the antelope on which they lived.
Winton knew that there was no set-
tlement of any kind, not even a native
one, for hundreds of miles in this di-
rection. If one went far enough, how-
ever, and knew how to live on the
wild melons thit send their tap-roots
hundreds of feet into the ground and
draw up water, one would enter Ger-
man territory, where the Herrero
, tribesmen lived among the infrequent
oases. Thence one could strike the
western shore,
And Winton suddenly began to think
that Van Vorst must have taken this
route. Probably the same Hottentots
who had accompanied De Witt had
helped Van Vorst across the desert,
They might even have cached food and
water in some lonely spot.
Winton’s heart sank as he followed
the faint tracks mile after mile, often
reduced to a slow walk in order not
to lose them. Sometimes only a tuft
of downtrodden, withered grass, or a
! few displaced pebbles showed him
i his route. And then even the wisps
| of grass vanished, and the flinty desert
|
lay smooth before him.
It was early afternoon. Winton had
been guiding himself more by instinct
and judgment than by any visible
traces. He realized now that he had
lost the trail, and lost it half an hour
| before, and had been deluding him:
self with signs which were nonexist-
ent. Worse than that, it was impos-
: sible to pick up the spoor by going
back.
His horse had gone gamely, but it
| was gradually giving out. He dis-
mounted, and the beast stood panting,
with drooping head. It had ceased to
8weat—an ominous sign. He left it
end began to cast about in a wide
elrcle in the hope of hitting the tracks.
But he found nothing; and, standing
under the blistering sun, he knew that
| he was himzelf lost, that he had coe
i ered some five and thirty miles whicn,
if rciraced, must be retraced afoot.
| He went back. The animal had not
i moved. He looked about him. In the
far distance were the faintest blue
outlines of hills. It occurred to him
that De Witt might have been making
for these. And he might as well go
forward as turn back.
He trudged on endlessly, leading the
horse, the sun a grilling fire above
him. His boots were burned through
from contact with the hot stones.
i
1
his tread.
The sun, even in its descent, seemed
to grow hotter. Winton was half
dead from thirst. The panting horse
was becoming a burden. At last it
stood still and dropped slowly upon
its knees. It looked at him and
whinnied.
As Winton glanced hopelessly over
"the plain his eyes were arrested by
| the sight of a dark object lying an
indefinite distance away. It was too
‘large for a man—too black for a rock.
| And there were no rocks anywhere,
for the whole plain seemed to have
been crushed flat by a giant steam-
roller.
Winton made his way toward it. It
began to take form; it was a dead
horse. It had dropped in its tracks,
and its sufferings had been ended by
"a bullet through the head. But there
| were no signs of a rider, and it was
| impossible to distinguish any foot-
! tracks on the stones.
It was no doubt the horse that had
been ridden by one of the three. It
was not De Witt’'s. Probably it was
' the Hottentot’s.
Winton’s spirits soared upward. He
set his teeth grimly and went back
to his animal. He must go on now,
even if he had to leave the beast be-
hind him,
He stood looking at it. It had fallen
upon its stomach, and crouched thus,
with its legs bent under it. It raised
its head and whinnied again faintly.
| It was past saving, unless water could
be procured immediately.
Winton drew his revolver, took care-
ful aim behind the ear, and fired. The
- beast’s head went down—it quivered,
rolled on its side, and died.
And he went on.
journey became automatic, so that he
was hardly conscious of his surround-
ings. He saw only the distant hills
and the western sun descending with
tantalizing slowness. His tongue,
swollen and numb, seemed to distend
his cheeks. Sometimes the stony
desert yleldel for a few steps to
sparse patches of flinty earth, indicat-
ing the hope of some fertile region
| beyond, but it always began again.
| The sun dipped into the west, and
"still the man staggered onward The
significance of the patches of thorn
scrub was lost to him, of the rugged
and broken terrain, of the foothills
about him, with their straggling mi-
Loose shale and flints slipped under
By degrees his !
mosas. But suddenly Winton stopped,
trembling.
Ireen grass was. at his feet, and
out of a fissure in the ground there
bubbled a little spring, unguessed at
by the map-makers. It was a tiny
unknown oasis in the vast wilderness.
De Witt had evidently possessed the
secret, and had planned to make this
his headquarters until the hue and
cry had been dropped.
Winton flung himself upon the
earth beside the spring, and, burying
his face in the water, drank until his
shriveled veins seemed to pulse with
new blood.
The sun had set. and the intense
heat was changing to the icy cold of the
desert night when he arose, rested,
and with all the grimness of his reso-
lution nerving him to action. He knew
that Sheila could not be far away. He
looked at his revolver. To his con-
| sternation he discovered that only two
| shots remained. However, these
! should be enough—one, at least, would
save Sheila from De Witt; the other—
He would not face the possibilities
" that unfolded themselves before him,
but rose to his feet, and was about to
follow the spring through a valley into
the hills when something lying upon
the ground attracted his attention.
It was Sheila's handkerchief.
He snatched it up and pressed it to
his lips. He felt that Sheila had
dropped it for an indication, knowing
that he would follow. Lightly he
stepped forward into the bush-clad
hills, among the boulders.
The valley opened. The scene grew
desolate again. All round Winton
were hills of a precipitous character,
which gradually grew steeper until he
found himself in a sort of level am-
phitheater, apparently inclosed, save
at the end through which he had come,
Thin tufts of grass and sparse vege-
tation grew around the bases of the
cliffs, but the central portion of the
valley was of a dazzling whiteness, as
if incrusted with salt or alkali.
Alengz one side were numerous trails,
showing the sharp edges of the spoo
of beasts. :
After a while Winton discovered
that the white floor, on which he now
walked, was not composed of mineral
but of animal matter. It was a layer
of pulverized bones, thousands upon
thousands, picked bare by jackals and
vultures, bleached by the sun and dis-
integrated by the passage of years.
Gradually the bones grew larger
until Winton was stumbling on that
nneven floor. It was one of those
death places of the wild beasts of the
veld, often described but seldom en-
countered. It was a natural resting-
place for the antelope and creatures
of prey, which, feeling the approach of
aeath, drank their ast drink at the
suring and turnea aside among tiie
clifis to die unmolested. It had heen
nsed for countless generatont \Win-
ron saw the nmnrensely lenz tiugn-
bones of the giraffe, exceeding tha
height of a man, though the beast had
long since been driven northward.
There were the skulls and horns of
springhok, koodoo, hartebeeste and
guu, with their varying forms and
spirals. Gaunt ribs stood out like tl.»
framework of old, rotting bo.is; teeth
gaped in skulls, and in one lonely
piace, in a cluster of grass, an aged
hyena, whose last hunting was done,
crouched, belly flat against the groun’,
with open chops, and snarled in its
decrepitude. :
Winton hurried on, trying to make
the end of the valley, where he
| thought some pass might exist, before
‘darkness held him a prisoner. He
had nearly crossed this desolate region
when he caught sight of a tiny twinkle
of red light on the cliff above him.
| He stopped, hardly able to believe
it true. Another light appeared. Then
‘came a series. Winton realized that
these were sparks blown from a camp-
fire upon the summit,
| His heart began to thump wildly.
He stumbled forward over the bones.
Darkness had fallen by the time he
reached the narrow trail at the val-
ley's end, and he had many narrow
escapes among the boulders with which
| the way was strewn, On each side
of him the cliff rose vertically, and the
pass itself, hardly wide enough to per-
mit a horse to ascend, seemed like a
fissure in the mountain side made by
some natural cleavage of the rocks.
He had ascended to within a few
feet of the summit when some instinct
halted him abruptly. Then a sudden
drfit of smoke toward him showed
him that the camp-fire was just at the
crest. The sound of voices reached
his ears, :
(Continued next week).
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