Evening Star Newspaper, August 22, 1896, Page 15

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDA Xz WON PART I. The world is said to be really run by its enthusiasts, and it may be true for any- thing I know to the contrary, but I am pretty sure from personal experience that the enthusiasts themselves don’t always enjoy the process of running it. Take my own case, for instance: I am an enthusias- tic bleyele rider—I have been branded by inconsiderate acquaintances as a bicycle fiend—and here was I, at the moment when this unvarnished tale begins, feeling very clearly and unpleasantly that I wasn’t in tt. Now, this was all the worse because Uhad been decidedly in it during the four ays of our hill picnic at the cave temples >f Murishabad. As a stranger bringing good introductions, I had be2a_recetved with the open arms of Indian military so- y, and the fact that I had come to a tour of India on my bicycle had given me something of the vogue that at- taches all the world over to anything spe- liy eccentric. I had been persuaded to abandon my original idea of making the hill Journey from Koondewalla to Murisha- bad on my wheel, which had gone up in one of the wagon and in spite of all my enthusiasm [ would willingly have let it 60 back in same way had I not felt ashamed to seem so far to renounce my freely-expressed opinions. I felt very much, I confess, Ike the en- gSineer hoist with hig own petard that morning as I stood watching the last of our cavalcade winjing down the mountain road, and felt that I was condemned by my own choic2 to a more or less solitary Journey as the only representative of the new locomotion. I glanced round at the site of our now deserted picnic camp by of taking a last farewell before leav- ‘There was little left, indeed, even the ing. row, except the site, for already the Iittle crowd of retainers, conspi in their cuous turb: and white linen garments, had struck the remaining tents and nearly completed the stowage of the thousand and one pieces of baggage which go to © up the strict essentials of an Indian The place had been well chosen picturesque, and even now the open where the giant teakwood trees cast shadows on the grass and the level sunlight y in fie and spla: 's of gold, formed a scene to delight an artist. Four or five wagons, drawn by pairs of mild- eyed zebu_ o: . Were rece! i the last of their loads, and it was evident that in a few minutes more the rear guard of the picnic party would have started, and the puntain glade which had re-echoed to so uch laughter and been the witness to so at an amount of pleasure would be left its solitude. As my eye ling 1 over its last survey the place something unconsciously led it upward from the level of the camp to @ point on the hillsic where, as I re- membered, a w defined path ran along the sicpe between clumps of tall bamboos and stately tobacco plants. The path had been a favorite one, and perhaps it was this that led me to glance up at it for a final farewell. As I did so, however, I Was Startied by apparition of the head and shoulders of a man cautiously peering out from the screen of shrubbery and leaves. It was a noticeable face, with a pair of fie wright eyes in the distance gieamed and sparkled with what © an expr watched the and ion of deadly ha- ‘oceedings of the then glanced quickiy down the road after the retreating party on horseback. The face was a startling one, and its expression made it still more im- pressive, and it was eral minutes be- fore I could shake off the impression that it beded no good to the party which he watched so intently. He did not seem to notice me, or perhaps he felt sure he was concealed, far he remained as if in thought for a minute or two, and then suddenly disappeared. It was not without a sense of vague un- asiness that I mounted my bicycle and followed the party, whose voices and Javghter could still be heard from time to time, although a bend in the mountain road had hidden them from sight. A minute or two of the familiar exercise reconciled re to my choice of locomotion, even at the expense of company. There was something in the smocth, gliding motion, silent, easy and eminently independent, that seemod well suited to the place; none of the heavy, lumbering gait of the elephant; no nervous starts like those of a high-spirited horse: }Frfect independence and control, with an mount of exertion hardly greater, vhile Be freedom of action was all in favor of she machine. I had soon overtaken the others and made one of the little cavalcade that was making the most of the morning hours to diminish the march of forty miles that lay between us and the cantonments of Koon- dewalla. Fortunately, it was all down hill, and the road, though in its upper parts lit tle more than a good mountain track, was smooth and good. For my own part, though the sun was hot, my effort was so trifling that In the comparatively cool air of the high table land I was quite able to erjJoy the scenery, and the oriental fea- tures of the landscape, which had not yet had time to lose their charm since I ad landed a month before at Bombay. We made good progress. and by the time we reached the spot that had been chosen for our midday halt and meal we began to feel that we had diminished a good deal of the 1,800 feet that represented the difference in elevaticn of the temples at Murishabad ard the cantonments at Koondewalla. The stately teakwood trees, the most striking feature of the vegetation of the higher ‘evel, were rapidly giving way to masses of tropical-looking foliage and shrubs. There were still great trees, indeed, but the wide-spreading banyans, with their many stems and fig-like foliage, the wool tree, with its vast leaves, and the stately tu- bacco plants were becoming more and more mingled with the paims and the hundred ether vegetable forms that tell so unmis- takably of a tropical forest. The spot chossn for our halt was a ro- Mantic one, and it was rendered still more zo by the close neighborhood of an old Fill fort, said to have a dark history in the old Mahratta wars, and even to have been used as a robber stronghold in much more modern times. The preparations for lunen were not yet complete, and it was proposed that we should spend the time of valting in exploring the old fort. It stood but a short distance—perhaps 200 yards—to one side of the road on which we were, and the idea was hailed as a good one and acted upon at once, at least by the younger mem- bers of the party. Most of us dismounted and sought one or the other of the forest paths which appeared to promise a short ut to the fort, the top of which, dark and threatening looking, could »e seen rising out of the masses of tropical jungle that lay between us and the higher ground on which the old robber fastness had been butit. Perhaps it was a little spice of native obstinacy that led me to cling to ‘ny bi- cycle instead of joining one of the parties on foot, whose laughing voices made the echoes of the jungle ring with the unac- customed sounds of pleasure and amnse- nt. Reasons are nearly always mixed, and I didn't take the trouble to analyze my own as I once more mounted and rur- gued the road we had been traveling a lit- Ne farther, in search of the place where 3t must be Joined by the path leading up to the fort. In a minute or two I had Texched it. The old fort builders had made ro attempt to conceal the approach to their stronghold, and I paused for a moment to admire the unstinted use of patient labor that had been spent in hewimg away the beetling granite crag, round the foot of which it swept to join the main road. The sounds of laughter higher up the hill, how- ever, made me face the steep ascent, and it was only after five minutes of rather harder work than was pleasant that I found myself on the level of the fort. Even here I was not at the actual level of che entrance, for the ground dipped onee more into a holiow rising suddenly te the ruinous gateway. i glanced round and saw that as yet none SESESESEMSUSCUENESESES BREAKING A RECORD. BY OWEN HALL. Author of “The “Track of a Storm.” (Copyright, 1896, by the Bacheller Syndicate.) LLL ULALILLS ULM of the others had arrived. The hollow be- fore-me was not deep, and, letting my bi- cycle go, the impetus of the descent carried me with @ rush up to the very entrance. I was in the very act, and within a few yards of the gateway, when my eyes met a man’s face looking out at me through the shadow It Was the Face Again. of the arch. It was the face again—the very same face which had fascinated me with the malignant gaze tt had fixed on our last night's encampment from the hillside some hours before. The thought flashed through my mind with an Irresistible con- Viction. The face was the same—the same marked features, the same eager, gleaming eyes, the very same deadly fierce expres- sion which had startled me in the morning. It flashed out upon me from the shadows cost by the crumbling gateway for an in- stant, and in the same instant it was gone. More startled now than I should have cared to own, I leaped from my machine and shouted a welcome to the others of our party, who were now beginning to straggle by twos and threes from the jungle. My victory was acknowledged by the rest, and we proceeded to explore the old building. To my surprise, there was not a sign of the man whose face I had jest seen—he had utterly disappeared. The fort seemed to afford no place where he ceuld He concealed, and it was with a sense of uneasy astonishment that I failed to find him. The rest of the party were disposed to laugh at what they called my apparition, and even identified it with the old Mahratta chief who had built the fort. I coulin't laugh myself out of the idea, however, nor shake off the uneasiness which !t cost me, and, after spending few minutes in convincing myself that the man was really gone, I remounted and re- turned by the way I had come. Col. Maitland had stayed, with the more matured portion of our party, at the spot selected for the luncheon, and there I found rim, seated on a camp stool, and watching, with all the interest of a well-seasoned East Indian, the preparation for the meal. “Back first, Hall?’ he exclaimed, as I rode up to where he sat under the ample shade of the wide-spreading tree. “You made short work of the fort, then.” I had already decided to tell the colonel my ad- venture, so I at once explained to him what I had seen, mentioning the apparent iden- tity of the men I had noticed. “You think he was the same man, Mr. Hail, do you’ he said. Well, sir, I hardly like to ‘say so, it seems $0 unlikely, but I confess I do think 50." The colonel looked thoughtfully around for a moment. “Well,” he said at last, “most likely It’s a mere coincidence, but I have just been hearing that the nelghbor- hood ‘has been getting a bad reputation lately, and it may be as well to keep to- gether. Would you mind warning the party up at the fort that they had better hurry back for luncheon? Don’t alarm the ladies, of course, but get them to come.” ‘The colonel’s manner impressed me, and in another half minute I was retracing the path I had already traveled a few minutes PART IL It was with a sense of relief, which, in spite of the shadowy nature of my grounds for anxiety, was considerable, that I saw the whole party safely collected at the pleasant picnic meal which had been prepared under the widespreading shade of the great tanyan tree. I fancied I could make out a corresponding look of relief on the colonel’s face, and detected him more thar once in a quick, alert glance around him, but I was conscious that this might have been a mistake, and I could even fancy that the old fellow was chuckling inwardly over my credulity in being so easily alarmed. At any rate, nothing of an alarmirg character happened, and the luncheon, with its luxurious lelsure, was the counterpart of those we had enjoyed throughout the days of our mountain pic- nic. Whatever effect my story might have had on the colonel’s mind, it was by no means apparent in his actions, for he cer- tainly didn’t attempt to cut short the time allotted for the midday halt. Looking at him, as I confess I did from time to time, it seemed to me that he had quite resumed his ordinary easy-going manner, and I came to the conclusion that I had made rather a fool of myself by speaking to him at all. Our halt must have lasted nearly three hours, and the heavy, still atmosphere of the afternoon had aie eS to the pleasant idleness of the moment, when the arrival of the wagons we had left be- hind in the morning served as a reminder that the afternoon was slipping away. The word was given to start once more, and by the time the tops of the slowly moving wagons had disappeared round the first bend in the road below us we were nearly ready to follow them. The ladies were about to mount their horses, and I fancied I could observe a few uneasy glances cast at my bicycle, as if they were uncertain how far its rear neighborhood would be conducive to the good behavior of the anli- mals. It was annoying, but there was no help for it, and making a virtue of neces- sity I mounted and prepared to act as an advance guard. My annoyance was little more than momentary, for there is some- thing in the motion of my wheel that al- ways seems to sdothe my nerves, and be- fore half a minute had passed I found my- self spinning smoothly down the long and gentle glope, at the further end of which I could see, through the vista of sunlight and shadow, the hooded ox wagons that contained the main part of the by no means inconsiderable baggage of our party. It was pleasant to glide swiftly, yet with- out an effort, over the elastic turf check- ered by the light and shade of the over- hanging trees, and to see the long succes- sicn of gorgeous tropical plants and shrubs that hedged in the sloping road on one side, confronted by the abrupt masses of rock that rose, wreathed in creepers and gemmed with flowers, on the other. There was no need of exertion, for after the first few moments the incline was more than sufficient to insure speed, so that I had am- ple leisure to look about me as I went. Even now the thought of my apparition was partly present in my mind, although as I swept past the spot where the hill path to the old fort joined the road on which I was traveling, I had the pleasant impression that I was leaving it org, In spite of this, I was conscious that it was to the upper aide of the road that ay eyes turned involuntarily, and that scenned with quick, sharp glances the hol- Icws that opened among the rocks, and the clvmps of iuxuriant vegetation as I swept past them on my downward course. Syd- denly, just as I was smiling at myself for my action, I saw him This time there could be no mista! He had not seen me coming, I feel sure, and of course my wheel made no sound on the soft path, but suddenly, within a dozen yards in it the same figure I had seen twice bel sprang out of the bushes on the very edge oj the rocky wall, which at that spot rose ioe le haps twenty-five feet above the road. had a gun in his hand, and tied to the \UGUST 22, 1896~TWENTY PAGES. ntussle iis loosened turban, which he waved thee times over his head—he was still in ee act of waving it when 1 swept past at feet. His eyes were fixed on some point further down the road as 1 did so, end even then I don’t think he would have been aware of my presence. What did it mean? I looked over my skoulder and saw our party—some thirty in all, of whom ten were ladies—cantering down the road three or four hundred yards behind. I cou'd imagine I heard their laughter as they came on. There was danger—danger of some kind, I was sure—in the action I had This Time There Could Be No Mistake just seen. If a face, and the expression of a face, went for anything, the danger was imminent and deadly. As the conviction fleshed acrogs my mind I tried to think what was to be done. Unless he has actual- ly tried it, no one can tell how hard a task it is to think under such conditions of emergency. The danger evidently lay in front, where, some two or three hundred yards off, the ox-wagons were traveling along unconsciously, but the party against Whom it must be aimed were still behind. I hesitated for a moment, and then feeling the necessity of doing something, I turned half round in my saddle and, waving my arm frantically over my head, I shouted the words: “Halt! Danger! Back!” I hadn't tried to stop, and it was probably fortu- rate that I hadn't, for the echo of my last word was still ringing in my ear, and my eyes were still fixed on the party behind me to see what effect my warning had pro- duced, when something whistled closely past me, and at the vane moment the sharp Teport of a gun startled all the echoes of the spot. Had I thought for an hour I could have hit on no better plan for giving the alarm, and even as I involunterily bent my head, ag if to escape the shot, it was a sensation of no little relief that I heard it. At the same moment, and while I was in the act of looking back again to see what effect it had had, my hand went instinctively to the belt under my loose coat where I had re- Ugiously carried my revolver in its case since my arrival in the country. I had made up my mind now. It was useless to go on in the hope of warning the wagon drivers, for if the shot hadn’t done so, nothing would. My place was clearly with my party, and in the meantime my desire, which somehow was a very keen one, was to get a shot at my apparition in return for his own. I had aimost instinctively swerv- ed toward the wall of rock when I heard the report, and now I exerted myself to check my speed. Fortunately I was not yet going so fast as to make this difficult, and in a very few seconds I found myself able to throw myself hastily from the bicycle under shelter of the cliff. It was only a matter of moments, and as I turned the machine and remounted I heard a shout ard the sound of half a dozen shots from the direction where I could see that the wagons had stopped and were now huddled together. “Sicily over again, I guess,” I muttered to myself, savagely, as I bent over my wheel and, skirting the rock as closely as I could, put all my strength into the effort to get back to the spot where I had seen my unprovoked assailant. It was a differ- ent matter from the descent, indeed, but yet it was far from steep, and my chief effort was to keep myself concealed, partly to avoid a second shot and partly to giv Myself a better chance of taking my sav- age-looking friend unawares, 80 as to re- turn his compliment. The plan had the advantage that it made it impossible for me to catch sight of our party. Straight as the road had looked to me riding in the middle, or perhaps a little nearer the trees, there was evidently a bend, and now as T crept up close to the cliff it shut me off from a view of the upper stretch. After all, it was only for a minute or 80, and then noting the spot where the rook Tese bare and rugged and gripping my re- volver—a large and serviceable one—in my hand, I swerved into the middle of the road with a quick and noiseless rush. My Idea had been a good one. As I came in sight of the top of the rock once more my friend was in the very act of turning away, and the momentary glance which I got like a flash of light at his face, seem- ed to me to show a savage, well satisfied smile on his dark features. In a moment 1 had fired, and at the same instant he had seen me. There was a short, fierce ex- clamation, as with a threatening motion of his arm he plunged into the tangled mass of bushes behind him. I couldn't be certain that I had hit him, but the rest of our party evidently thought so, for they shouted: ‘Well done! Good shot!” by way of greeting my retura. They had halted near where the path to the fort joined our road, and in another minute I had joined them. About half of the men had ridden back to where the wagon that was to have followed us with the pharaphernalla of our lunch was still standing, and it was Col. Maitland who rode a few paces forward to meet me and greeted me with the word: ‘That was a good idea of yours; glad you got the scoundrel. “I hope I did, colonel,” I replied, vin- dictively. ‘Do you suppose there are many of them?" I added. “A good many, I should say, otherwise they would never have attempted an at- tack.” I glanced round, and even my un- military eyes could see that our present Position was quite untenable. The colonel noticed my look. “Bates tells me that we can easily hold the old fort,” he added, “till we can some- how send in word to the cantonment. We have guns enough with us, I think, and the principal difficulty will be to get through the scoundrels.” There couldn't be a doubt about the cor- rectness of the colonel’s remark, for to travel such a road beset with armed ene- mies looked the nearest thing to impos- sible. The ladies behaved well. There were no screaming, no tears, and no hys- terics, and within two or three minutes we were on our way up the hill track to the fort, the men in front and behind, and the ladies in the middle. I noticed that more than one of the horses looked uneas- ily at my bicycle, so I pushed on up the incline, glancing, I confess, suspiciously from side to side as I went, expecting every moment to hear the whistle of a bul- let or the report of a gun. Nothing hap- pened, however, and in two or three min- utes I had once more surmounted the rather steep ascent and saw the old fort not 100 yards in front. I was not the first, for even as I topped the ridge I caught sight of three or four villainous-looking fellows with guns in their hands running down the path and making for the en- trance of the fort. ‘Barely in time, after all,” I muttered to myself, as I took ad- vantage of the change of grade and shot silently down the track after them. As I went I congratulated myself once more on my mount. The hoofs of m: steed, at any rate, were noiseless, an I could easily see that the men in front were entirely ignorant of my coming. I gave the machine free scope, and we rusn- ed down the slope at something approach- ing racing speed. The men were running fast, but it is needless to say that they seemed almost at a standstill when com- pared to the pace at which I overhauled them. I was within twenty yards of them before I made up my mind what I should do. I had the revolver ings hand ready to fire, and yet I was in doubt. So far these men had done me no and whatever they might be about to do, hardly felt prepared to fire at them in cold blood. J was close behind them now, and some! must be done, They had reached the little hollow from wi ry th rose for about t! or fo1 ntrance of the fort, ‘wat fe ‘bel ind them, Sontag tole close track. I lifted the revolver and. oise] i eir tween the two men moe di nt of me. They were close t, and the bullet must have whistled in the ear of gach as it had them. With a slartiog exclamation that was almost a scream, the two men leaped asunder, and at the same moment my bi- cycle swept like a flash between them and up the incline beyond, It was all done in a moment. I saw the start, which for the moment paralyzed all four of the party; I hcard,the loud, quick exclamation of astonishment at the un- heard-of apparition thatiashed past them, and the impetus I hadcgained as I came down the slope had carried me to the ~ he AQ I Hesitated No Longer. ruinous gateway of the old fort before any of the party had recovered sufficiently to put his gun to his shoulder. The surpris had been complete, and I was in posses- sion of our place of refuge in time. Per- haps they had really thought there was something supernatural about me, for, no sooner did I throw myself from the bi- cycle than they seemed to recover them- selves and prepared to fire. There was nothing to be gained by exposing myself, and I had just sheltered myself in the angle of the gateway when two shots, one after the other, passed closely by me, and the reports of the rifles rang out sharply overhead. Two only, I thought to myself; the others must be following me up. I looked out quickly, and I was just in tir for the two men were almost upon m Each had his gun in his hand, and behind them I could see the others coming up the slope. I hesitated no longer, but step- ping out into the middle of the gateway, I fired. The man nearest me stumbled and fell heavily on his face not a dozen yards before me, and my finger was just about to press the trigger a second time when the man who was next leaped suddenly into the air and rolled over on the ground almost at my feet. At the same moment the sharp report of a rifle announced the arrival of our party at the top of the hill path. My other two assailants heard it as soon as I did, and by common consent darted off into the dense cover of shrubs and undergrowth that hedged in the track on either side. PART Ill. The ladies, a little pale and tremulous at the sight of bloodshed, had been assisted from their saddles and the horses led into the ruinous-looking courtyard of the fort, and yet we had heard no more of the ene- my. It is the pause after danger and ex- ertion that is the trying time, especially if the next act in the drama 1s doubtful, I think; or at any rate it seemed so to me, as I stood a little apart, looking out through watching the strange western the gateway and effect cf the blaze of the sun A mmer of Something Among the Green. White | as it fell on the two white heaps that lay still and motionless among the ferns and flowers that encroached upon the road. “We have all to thank you, Mr. Hall, for a most important service very ably carried out,” said the colonel, coming up behind m “Don't speak of it, colonel,” I said; “tt is really my machine that deserves the thanks. I guess you'll have to introduce the bicycle into India for military pur- poses.” “For some purposes I can see it would be invaluable,” he answered, gravely. As he spoke I could see that his eye dwelt xnxlously on the limited view before us. ‘What do you suppose these fellows will do next, colonel?’ I asked, after a mo- ment’s pause. “Do you suppose they will attack us here?” “No; certainly not with any idea of storming the place,” he said, decidedly. “Indeed, I am utterly at a loss to under- stand the business. I can only imagine they want plunder or ransom, and yet towadays that kind of thing is almost unknown.” As he spoke he turned away and crossed the courtyard to where a little group of officers were standing, dis- cussing the situation in low tones. My eyes glanced absently along the edge of the fringe of jungle which bounded the view, when suddenly they were arrested by the glimmer of something white among the green, and the next moment there was a sharp “ping” in the air close to me and a bullet struck the stone arch just over my head. Ah!” exclaimed the colonel, “I thought 80, gentlemen. In the meantime, Mr. Hall, pray come under shelter—there seem to be some fair shots among them.” I adopted the suggestion, and strolled over toward the little party of perhaps dozen men with whom the colonel was talking. As I came nearer them the first words I heard were from one of the young- er officers. ‘Excuse me, Colonel Maitland, but it would be quite impossible; surely one of ourselves—” ‘The colonel glanced around quickly, as if to impose silence on the group, and then turned to me as I came up. There was a look of annoyance and anxiety on his frank, soldierly face, as he said: “Forgive me, Mr. Hall, for in- treducing your name behind your back in @ matter like this. It is more than due you that I should take you into my confi- dence at once. The fact is, I am in a se- tious difficulty, as you can see. We must: communicate with the troops at once, but the difficulty is how to do it. These fel- lows won't attack us here—at any rate not in daylight—and they probably rely upon starving us into some kind of terms. It is important, not only that we should be re- leved, but that this kind of: thing should be put an end to at once foriall. A single company, or, at the most, two, of the Ghoorkas from Koondewalla would do it in half an hour, if we couldionly let them know.” E tof “Til ride down, colonej!" sald the young man who had spoken before, eagerly. “My horse is only too fresh,.and he'd do it in two hours at the outside.” “Your horse, Mr. Chambers, 1s a gray, if I am not mistaken—what ehance do you suppose either you or he would have of getting through? Nol. I :have thought of all that, and am convinced that it is hardy possible on horseback. The only hope would be on foot,’ or-—” and here the colonel paused ungasily. ‘I guess the bicycle would have a better chance still, wouldn’t 4t, colonel?” I said. “That was the very remark I was mak- ing as you came P. Mr. Hall, only some of us are inclined fo think it unfair that all the honors of war should fall to you.” “Oh, as to the honors, colo! I'm not partic them, but it es me we same boat, and the point wi the best chance gt getting to shore. all’s said and done, colonel, T ie tl ats me. © oojonel turned to me and held out hig hand c or, rou'd so" hs maid Peal fa thank Fou rom ay ss urse, there janger— ger, I'm afral with je—but there cannot be a doubt at es you @ vast edvantage over an: Some Delieve on niy soul a8 I could easily see all the to der to me the post of danger, the truth of this view was 80 evi- dent that, after a little demur on the part of several of them, tt was tacitly agreed that I should make the attempt. Under ordinary circumstances, as the colonel explained, the Plan adopted would have been to trust to one of the native servants finding his way through, but in this case we had no one to send, as not one of them had been mounted, and, therefore, meer must either have been taken or disper: it the first alarm. It was clear that I had a better chance on my bicycle than any one could have on foot, as {a Cither case we must have kept to the track or road, being wholly unequal to find- ing a way through the jungle. I confess, however, that the more we discussed it the less promising it appeared. It was clear that I myst wait for night to come on, as it would be impossible to run the gauntlet of the road in daylight, but even then the dangers seemed hardly less. A good part of the road was through the open forest such as we had met with during the morning's journey, but part of it ran through a gorge or cleft in the mountains where the jungle was thick, and which we heard as we came up had been the seene of a good many ac- cidents with tigers of late. I found myself mentally noting the various points of danger, and I confess they seemed formid- able. There was first the road close at hand where I must run the gauntlet of no one could say how many enemies; then, if I passed them, there was the risk—by no Teans a trifling one in the dark—of losing my way, and even if all went well so far, there seemed an excellent prospect of add- ing one more tiger tragedy to the fll-omened jungle that filled the long gorge leading out of the higher, levels of the table land. The colonel’s expectations had so far been justified, for, excepting an occasional shot at any of the party who exposed himself, no attempt had been made to attack us. Little by little the remainder of the afteraoon s}ip- ped away. The sun sank lower and lower toward the western horizon, until at last his rim was dipping behind the dense fringe of forest that bounded our view in that direc- ticn. I was beginning to think that in a very short time the moment would arrive for my adventure, and to pull myself to- gether to meet with coolness the calls it would probably make upon my nerve and re- sources, when I was roused by a shout from overhead, where two of the party were sta- tioned as lookouts. At the same moment Col. Maitland came hastily out of the large apartment which had been allotied to the ladies. “I belleve they're going to try it after all. Have you a rifle, Hall?” “No, colonel, but this is good enough, and I know what I am doing with it,” I replied, as I crossed the yard at his side. There were already some half dozen men under the arched gateway, each armed with a gun of some sort. Most of them, it is true, were “Now,” he said, “Fire.” sporting guns of one kind or another, but at such close quarters as we were likely to have these were as good as any. anid back! the colonel cried, don’t fire till they’re close to the gate- way.” We drew back to the inside of the short, arched passage, and it was well we did so, for almost instantly a hot fire was poured into the mouth of the entrance by a wide circle of marksmen who sprung up among the shrubs and ferns on the targied 2dge of the jungle. Suddenly it ceased, and the colonei’s voice said, quiet- ly: “Walt till I give the word!” We had oply a second or two to wait, for with a rush and a cry a number of men with dark faces and white turbans hurled them- selves at the mouth of the gateway. They surged Into the passage till they seemed to be almost upon ui “Now,” he said, “fire!” We fired, every man straight before him, Into the leaping, struggling, yelling crowd of evil-looking, dark faces. ‘Then, clubbing the guns, we rushed in upon them. How it happened I don’t know, but they seemed to melt away before us as we rushed forward. Ore or two were partly down and struck flercely at those of us who were nearest them, and were in turn beaten to the ground with gun stocks, but none of the others waited. They were yards in front of us as we emerged from the gateway. “Back!” shouted the colonel, “back?” We fell back just in time, for a number of shots were fired and two of our party were slightly wounded before we had regained the shelter of the old arched passage. We waited, somewhat breathlessly, for @ renewal of the assault, but none came. With all the characteristic rapidity of the tropics the light waned, now that the sun had gone down, and the shadows closed in, scft and mysterious, on the forest and jungle. We had examined the little heap of bodies in the gateway, but none of them appeared to have any life left to care for. We dragged the bodies to one side, so as to leave a passage, and, having done so, we waited for the darkness, PART Iv. “I won't attempt to conceal from you, Mr. Hall,” the colonel said to me quietly, as we stood in the dark court yard perhaps an hour after the attack, “either the dan- ger or the importance of this venture of yours. I think, even if we are atta: ‘ked again, that we shall beat them off, but as you see, without relief we are Practically at their mercy in the end, as we have no food, though, thank God, we shall have Plenty of water from the well.” “Look here,” I said, “colonel, I think 1 can pretty well guess what the risks are, and I'm willing to take the chances for the sake of the ladies, even if tt wasn’t about the best chance for myself as far as I can figure it up, so don’t trouble about that. I may get through, and, again, I may not. Perhaps the odds are a shade on the wrong side, but you give me just seven hours— that’s three to go and four to come back— before you try anything else. If you don’t hear of me by that time, you may reckon I've got into trouble, colonel—but some- how I don’t think it'll come to that.” The old man put out his hand to me in the dark, and I gripped it hard. “It’s time I was going now,” I added. ‘Say good-bye for me to the ladies, colonel, and expect me back soon after daylight.” I gave his hand another shake, and led my bicycle out through the gateway, keep- ing clear of the side where we had piled the bodies, though I seemed to myself to make out the heap in the dark, and I pushed on to get past it. The colonel fol- lowed me to the entrance, and stood under the heavy shadow to see me off. I crept cautiously out into the grayer darkness, and the last thing I heard was the colonel’s whispered farewell: “‘Gocd-bye. We'll look for you in the morning.” It was dark—the soft, mellow darkness of the tropical night. I cculd see the road that led up to the fort, like a grayer belt stretching down the slope before me, hedg- ed in by the darker shade of the over- wn wilderness on each side. Would it safe to mount? Not yet, I thought, as I looked anxiously around me. The slope, 1 felt sure, was a place of danger, because there, if anywhere, a watch was sure to be kept, and the slope might at any mo- ment bring me against the sky line from the point of view of some watcher. I de- termined to wait till I reached the bottom, although I knew that I must by that means lose all the assistance which the slope would have given me. I bent Myself al- most double as I crept on; I drew the bicy- cle toward me till it, too, seemed to creep along the ground. The stiliness was intense. Not a breath of air seemed stirring, not a sound rose up under the sHent heaven. I held my breath as I went, and yet the beating of my heart made a sound in my a that seemed as das a drum. For the moment aft my faculties seeried absorbed by that of hear- ing. On and on—a single step at a time, “and with a pause after each, till at last I reach- ve tae eons I waited a moment to lis- en. a. 4 conjured up dark figures everywheré I turned mf eyes, but there yes not a sound. Should I mount now? Once more I decided against it. I looked ahead, and I could just make out the dim gray ribbon of the path stretching up into the darkness. I crouched and followed it. I had no idea it had been so long. I could have sworn it had taken me an hour to climb the slope down which I had seem- ed to myself to fly only two or three hours 18 Highest of all in Leavening Power.— Latest U.S. Gov't Report before, but at last I had reached the top. I felt that I had arrived at the most criti- cal stage of my journey. I must mount now, and for anything I could tell my mounting might be the signal for a volley from the guns of my unseen enemies. With a long breath I drew myself together, and gradually—inch by inch—ratsed myself to my full height—still there was not a sound, 1 looked around me; I did my best to peer into the heavy shadow that lay like a pall over the scene. I could see but little. Be- hind me the irregular outline of the ruin- ous fort stood out against the soft, purp sky; on elther side vague, shadowy forms mocked my efforts to penetrate the dark- ness: in front the forest threw a darker shade, and showed a dim outline against the heaven. With one last quick glance around me I mounted the seat. Away! The moment I felt the accustom- ed sensation of the saddle and the soft, gilding motion of the wheel I felt as if I was myself again. Bending forward, that I might keep to the dim path, I threw my welght on the pedais and they seemed to respond Ike living things. Away! And in another minute I could feel that we Were on the downward grade once more. Silently, but momentarily faster, I could feel that the wheels were ‘turning, though in the clinging darkness I could see nothing but the gray shadow of what I knew must be the path. Darker and darker yet. The shadows crouched low and black on either hand, as if preparing to spring out upon me as I passed—I felt though I cannot say that I saw them as I swept by. Ah, now I felt that I was nearing the spot where the two roads joln- ed. ‘The cliff was rising higher and higher | on the right hand, throwing a still blacker shadow on the road, but I felt that I knew it now, and it was with a feeling of triumph that I bent forward and guid- ed the machine in its free sweep round | the wall of rock and into the wider and clearer road. I could see more clearly now. The gray shadow of the road was more distinct, and I could even feel as if the trees that stretched their boughs over the road made @ sort of corduroy of shadows on the | track before me. But what was that in front? Something that glowed with a soft crimson halo in the darkness, and made the end of the long vista down which I was looking seem like a cavern; some- thing that sparkled and gleamed, and flashed with an intermittent light’ as I came nearer. It was the glow of an un- seen fire For a moment my heart grew cold. Had I come so far only to fail now? I thought of the last sight I had caught of | the wagons just before the shots were fired, and T seemed to know that this was | the spot chosen for an outpost by the enemy. It was beyond the bend of the road, and as I thought of it, the picture of that bend seemed to rise before me as I had seen the place on the way up some days before. I could remember that the road swept round with a bold curve and fell to a long, smooth descent like a great avenue between the trees. There was no time to hesitate. Already, while these thoughts were passing through my mind, I was close to the spot. Already I could fancy I saw the fire of the quick flashes | of greater and lesser light that out Into the road by which I w approaching. I even thought I could hear strange voices, and catch the sound of something like a laugh. It was now or never. I gripped my revolver tightly in my hand—I bent over my wheel—with my Ups pressed tight and my teeth clenched I shot round the bend and into the full glare of the firelight. Into the Fall Glare of the Firelight. I had rot been mistaken. The wagons were there, drawn to one side of the road, and there, too, in the full light of the blaze, were cight or ten dark, turbaned figures, standing or Iving, their dark faces fixed in terrified astonishment, their white eyeballs gleaming and startled at the aj Pariticn as I swept out of the shadow above and plunged into that below them. One sharp, astonished cry, that sounded like a wail, was all that I heard, and then I was past them and the road gaped be- fore me like the entrance of scme black cavern. For some moments I held ny breath, still expecting to feel the sting of a bullet or at least to hear the report of a gun. I did neither. The glow that follow- ed me died away. I had passed the out- post and was free. It had been a near thing, and it was some time before I had fully recovered my- self. By the time I could think calmly once more of what lay before me I felt that 1 must have put several miles be- tween me and the spot. I had made splen- did progress, and now the road was clear- ly vistble in the new white light that filled the eastern sky—the moon was rising. By its light I could see that the forest through which I had been passing had changed its character. The stately trees had for tho most part given place to tall clumps of bamboo, graceful, drooping palms of a dozen sorts, and great plumed masses cf jungle grass that bent and trembled in the scarcely perceptible night oreeze. It flash- ed into my mind that T must have reached the great gorge of which I had heard such tales. With the thought a cold feeling Passed down my spine, and involuntarily I threw a quick, startled glance over my shoulder—tigers! The shudder was followed by a quick rush of blood that tingled all over me from head to foot, and I shook myself to throw off the feeling, which I knew to be one of fear. I partly succeeded, but it was creepy still. The moonlight, on which I had been congratulating myself so heartily only a tew momerts before, seemed now to make it worse. The gray, livid light had something about it that’ was surely ghastly; the little trembling shadows that were thrown by the gray clumps and palms suggested something alive; there was something ghostly in the whisper of the night air through the leaves. As the thought passed through my mind I start- ed—I hardly knew why, but yet I started, and again that cold shiver ran down my limbs. There was nothing to be seen— nothing, that is, but the moving panorama of leaves and grasses—nothing to be heard but the soft sigh of the night wind. I Ustened! Listened with the intensity which is impossible except in moments when the nervous tension is almost too great for endurance. Yet there was sure- ly something—there must have been—I knew it, though I could see nothing and couldn’t even fancy I had heard any sus- Picious sound. Yes. There was something—some- thing that was nct so much alarmin, as strange—a soft, low, rustling sound, that was not the movement of the tali bamboos, nor the whisper of the breeze in the jungle grass. My heart stood still for a moment, byt jt was for a moment | only. Then the hot, switt blood rushed through my veins ina fiery tide. I didn't think, but I knew that my one hope of escape lay in the speed of my bicycle. I flattered myself that 1 might do wonders if I chose on a track, but no racing track could possibly have held out such @ prize as was before me now. I pent forward over the wheel. I strained each nerve and sinew to Its utmost tension, and still each nerve and fiber of my body seemed to listen. I could hear it stili—swift, stealthy, untiring, cruel as death, it seemed to fit through the jungle—a sound—only a soft brushing sound, but more terrible in its stealthy quietness than the loudest and most startling noise, On! On! The slope | afraid he has ove A dow self to fly, hill and I seemed even to but was I really going at a rate There Was a Flash. that could hope to outstrip that pursult? Suddenly on the right, where the high ground came down to the side of the road a great clump of jungle grass at looke livid in the pale ight waved with a qu motion. There was a flash—it might have been the light from living ¢ only the light from the shaken gras da bar of something dark shot out of the jungle with a low, flerce, hissing snarl. I gether instinetiv and at the same me. I seemed to feel upon my shoulder, and rushed on at the same and yet as we we behind me among the bamboo left—the tUger had sprung, missed me! I hardly know what followed my escape. I have @ vague remembrance of endur the fierce strain of a long effort—a of overpowering relief when I was n the first challenge a thy nionment at Koondewalia member the astonished face of as he looked from me to the note I given him and back again. His v ever, sounded far away to my © sald d God, major, here's @ ni ness! We mustn't lose 'a moment the doctor to look after Mr Jone (The end) —_— MEMORY FREAKS. t_was gone. headlon, nt I heard a soft c had e, how- of Cert From the New York Adver More curious and sy stive and perhape more valuable to the novelist than the in- stance of lost ident eported from @ Philadelphia hospital, are those cases of double personality in which there are two distinct series of memories and tw net and alternating states of consciousness. Te forget all the experiences of half a lifetime, to begin a new Ife without knowing who or what were the friends of the past or how the scparation was effected, Is to open wide the door to the imagination, though perhaps the reality in 11 be found to be more strange than anything the fancy 14 Ine complicated, however, must be cumstances wnen one alternat two distinct personalities—today one pe son with a certain group of fr at to- morrow another and wholly t char- acter, with quite friends, and not knowing In one ste the other Nearly everybody enon to remark, on reading ‘ory of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, that it Is not so very in ev ment who much overdrawn, inasmuch as man there are the warring © good and bad. Few, however, oa have not followed the records of the hospitalty can belleve how nearly truthful is Mr. Stevenson's representation. In the Paris hospital of Dr. Charcot was al patient who lived a model life in one state of consciousn’ e was rated the 8. most amlable of patients and was free from even ordinary profanity. Frequentl he would pass into another state in whic he was in every respect the reverse, be- ious and wholly intrac ing violent, v' ble. What he did and the friends and ao- quaintances he made 1 state were wholly unknown to him 1 other. He would forget, when tn his amiable charao- ter, or rather he never knew, what he ha@ said while in the other, but when, after @ tume, he returned to his vicious self, he would remember all that related to that character. In short, he was like the man who, when Intoxicated, wrote a letter whick he could not read when sober, but which he could read readily on becoming inebri. ated again. About two years ago a Brooklyn young man was arrested for the crime of bigamy. He had been married some years before and seemed to be devoted to his wife and children, but at times he would disapp-ar for weeks, and on his return he professed to know nothing about where hr had been or what he had done. As a matter of fact, he made the acquaintance of a young woman and after leaving her without cer- emony returned and married her. There was no doubt that this w: case of double personality, and he was appalled on dis- covering the truth. When he was broaght before the second young woman he had no recollection of her. He was an epileptic, and it is among this ciass that phenomena of this kind are most frequent There are many other forms of douole and multiple memories—persons who show two or more states of consciousness in no way related to one another. In one case an insane soldier passed through five distinct states, with all the peculiarities noted in the first-case mentioned here. Dr. Charcot explained that in this first case the two characters were due to the sole action of one or the other hemisphere of the brain, one being always in a state of suspension. He reports the cases of patients in whom he could induce either of two states of con- sciousness by means of hypnotic sugges- tion. Sometimes diseases of the memory, espe- cially in the case of epileptics, are cured by the surgeon. Thanks to the revelations of vivisection, It is possible in some cases to locate the seat of the troubles in the brain by the character of the symptoms. Certain unnatural movements of one of the hands, for instance, may reveal to the surgeon the exact spot In the brain where he must op- erate. Eptleptics who had before them only the prospect of progressive disease and @ painful death have been wholly restored to health and intelligence as a result of the experiments on lower animals. It is from a study of the diseases of the brain that the world has acquired a good deal of knowledge about memory. As we have said, memory {s not a distinct faculty of the brain, but {t belongs to everything that has l.fe. Every special sense has its own memory seat, and these memory cen- ters are associated, though one may be de- stroyed without affecting another. Event- ually what is known about memory will be utilized in a practical way tn the school room, to the saving of a vast amount of time and effort. The conditions under which impressions are received and returned are bound to become a guide to t deed, to effect this Is one of the py Prof. Bain’s work on the science of educa- tion. ie Not After a Negative. From ‘he Clicago Post. . She was an ariateur photographer and had been showing him the resuits of her werk. You developed all these negatives your- self?’ he said tnquiringly. “All myself,” she answered, proudly. “That's what frightens me and makes me hesitate,” he said, thoughtfully. “You see, there’s a question 1d like to ask, if I Being a wise girl she lost no time in a: suring him het she could if the cond tiens were right, and he discovered in @ little less than @ minute that the condi- tions were just right and that the process of developing an affirmative was all that has been claimed for it by the most enthug tic of lovers, 2