Evening Star Newspaper, December 26, 1896, Page 21

ee Ob a ij THE EVENING STAR, ‘SATURDA Y,-DECEMBER 26, 1896-24 PAGES. a 21 ONO Ase eyes 5 "Vritten for The Eventng Star. Part 1. hot. Good heavens, how hot it ‘was, on that broiling, roasting day far away in South Africa. The sun poured down in long yellow streams of flashing gold. It blazed upon the broad, greenish- brown billows of the veldt that seemed to stretch away to the eastern horizon in end- less low ridges of hot earth covered thinly with sun-dried herbage; it flashed and sparkled on the heaped-up masses of rug- ged rocks piled one upon another, that towered above us on the right, till one could fancy they smoked again under the flerce heat; it lay hot and still on the rough tangle of scattered trees and brush- ‘wood that fringed the bowlder-strewn slope which led up to the gray piles of rock that seemed to nod In the swimming at- mosphere. Yes, it was a hot December day; hot even for a South African mid- summer, far away on the borders of Mata- beleland. I had stopped for a minute to rest and look around me, and had taken the oppor- tunity to pass my hand across my brow to brush away some of the superfluous mois- ture that was trickling down my face in & continuous stream, while my rifle leant against a boulder at my side. My cther hand was occupied in keeping in its place the carcass of an antelope, the fruit of my morning's sport, which hung over my shoul- der, its long horns trailing on the ground behind. “I say, Hall, old man; nice seasonable Weather this for Christmas.” It was the jovial voice of my companion ‘Travers that had reached me from behind and a little higher up the slope. Good gracious, he was right, too. In two days more it would actually be Christmas, and here was I, as hot as a baked chicken at a darky wedding, with perhaps five miles more to tramp before I could get rid of my load. “Christmas!” I shouted, “you don't mean to say anybody keeps Christmas in this v It was her, do you? : Keep it? I believe you, my boy! Why, ‘we'll kill the best steer we can get for 'ov~ or money, or lead, for that matter—though where the dickens we're gomg vo get ui, 1 don’t know—and make believe we're enjoy- ing the roast beef of old England on Christ- mas day.” I made an exclamation of disgust; the Prospect was at the moment far from an enticing one. “Oh, you may grunt, old fellow,” he con- tinued, “but you must do at Rome as the Romans do, and I can tell you we omit none of the ceremonies of the season here, except. worse luck, the girls and the mis- ‘tetoe.” “Here!” I exclaimed: “why, man, you cart keep Christmas in this weather. The thing’s an outrage. Why don’t you keep it At this point Travers descended the slope at a bound to join me. He was a tall, ac- tive young fellow in a rough and ready costume which was not unbecoming, and which included a broad felt hat, a dark gray jacket that formed a compromise between a loose shirt and a shooting coat, lcose trousers of the same, and leggins of ned leather that reached nearly to the He carried over his shoulders, slung in a fashion of his own, the fellow antelope to the one I was carrying, and he was laughing heartily at my face and tone of disgust and incredulity. “Oh. come now,” he exclaimed: “you wouldn't have us give up our Christmas just be e it was warm? Why, the very EBcers would look on you as a heathen.” “Christmas! Well, you can call it what you please, of course,” I grumbled, “but for my part I don’t believe in a hot Christ- mas, and I don’t think you'll convert me to the faith in a hurry.” Travers laughed. “Well, I've seen sev- eral, and they're not such bad fun after a @ new sensation, I admit, but then you're always coming across new sensa- tions here; anything from a diamond mine to a nigger-rising. on the shortest notice— =e have all sorts here, and most things are ot.” Travers had passed me and taken the ead while he was speaking, and without making any reply I picked up my rifle and prepared to follow kim. We had gone but a short distance when the track we were fol- Jowing swept round a spur of the range of rocky hills and brought a new part of its rugged crest into sight. Travers halted ab- ruptly. and, shading his eyes with his hand, stared upward at the shoulder of the great mass of precipitous rock that rose above us. My eyes I could only succeed in making out some- thing dark which showed above the fringe of rough vegetation that came between. After some seconds spent in carefully watching the object, whatever it was, that had attracted his attention, my companion turned away and resumed his march. Glancing over his shoulder at me as he did so, he remarked: “There, now, Hall, that’s an illustration. Did you see that fellow up there?” “I saw something black, if that’s what you mean, but I'm hanged if I could tell what it was.” “Ah—just so; neither could I, for that matter. It was a nigger on the lookout for something. What he was on the lookout for I don’t know, only it’s lucky for us it isn’t you and I.” I knew Fred Travers well enough by this time to know that he was fond of a joke, and, concluding that this was one of his tricks upon travelers, I decided to disap- point him by taking no notice of his mys- terlous announcement. I made no reply, and we proceeded for some time In silence. We were still skirting the foot of the Kopje and ancther turn brought us to a spot where the ground sloped rapidly down to- ward something almost abruptly enough to be called a ravine, through which ran a stream which, although low at the time, had all the appearance of being subject to considerabie floods in time of rains. The place was new to me, and I observed with all the interest of an enthusiastic sports- man that it was just such a spot as might attract wild antmals in search of water. It Was not, however, till I had stooped to get “We examined it together.” @ ¢rink myself before crossing that I no- ticed that the footprints on the bank were sufficiently numerous to prove that my con- jecture was correct. Delighted at my dis- covery, I called my companion’s attention to It. Travers at once turned back, and we examined it together. The more carefully we looked the more certain it seemed to beeome that I had actually stumbled on @ favorite watering place. For some dis- tance, both above and below the spot at which we had crossed, footprints of a large variety of wild animals could be traced on the margin, and Travers hazarded con- jectures as to the particular kinds of ga: that were represented. = “By Jove, Hall,” he exclaimed, “It would ‘De a sin to miss such a chance. There's a regular menagerie of them, and !f we can only get the chance we might even have | $e luck to pot a lion.” . LLGARLLLL LS UPL A HOT CHRISTMAS, ~ BY OWEN HALL. . Author of “The Track of a Storm.” (Copyright, 1896, by the Bacheller Syndicate.) ollowed the direction of his, but | “A lon?" I said; “why, man, I'd travel a hundred miles to get a chance.” “Well, I don’t think you need go so far, by a long way; there was an old nigger at the post last week who said there were lions not far off, and, somehow, these beg- gars always seem to know; I fancy they can smeli them out.” “I say, Travers,” I exclaimed, after a mo- ment’s pause, “do you think we can get leave to try it at night?” Travers looked thoughtful for a mo- ment. “Well,” he said, “no! It’s past praying for, and that’s the fact. Old Ben- son would never listen to it, especially if he thought there were a lion in the case. He hates sport cf all sorts, ever since his brother was killed by a lion down in the Zulu country, but we might manage it, all the same. He wouldn’t mind after it was over, and one or two of us.have tried it before, only we never had the luck to fall across anything worth having-” The idea was exciting—doubly so with the addition of its unauthorized character, and Travers and I discussed it eagerly as we made the best of our way back to the post at Makalesi. As we went, we noted care- fully the various landmarks by which we hoped to find our way back to the spot at night, and we easily satisfied ourselves that we could do so without risk of mistake. By the time we had made our plans we had almost reached our destination, and could see the little outpost on the other side of the river. The spot was well chosen, no doubt, for an outpost, but nobody could have recommended Makalesi, either for its beauty or for its convenience as a place of residence. It stood on the swell of the rising ground, perhaps a hundred yards from the ford of the Makalesi river, which it effectually commanded, but for that very reason it was exposed without shelter to the fuil heat of the sun. It was very little of a fortress. Some attempt had been made to surround the three or four rough houses that formed the post with slight earthworks and a ditch, but these had not been completed. and part of the fortification still consisted of the larger of wagons drawn up so as to complete the circle. I: was occupied by rather more than fifty of the irregular force—half police, halp troopers—that had been recently organized under the orders of Dr. Benson, who had teen engaged in the rough and ready work of the frontier, both in killing and curing, for the past fifteen years. The discipline of the force was loose, but the men themselves were of that class which experience has shown the most effective for the first rough undertakings of colonizing in nearly ‘all parts of the world. Our arrival was hailed with a hearty wel- come on all /and an active interest was shcwn in what iwe had to tell as to the locality in which we had come across the geme we had secure&. Travers was careful to let no hint drop 4§ to our discovery of the watering place under the Kopje, and of course I followed his example, but I no- ticed that he said nothing of the supposed sentinel native to whom he had called my attention. I looked on this omission of his as proving conclusively that he had only been joking when he told me about it, and I was careful not to give him the satis- faction of seeing that I remembered it by making any reference to it in anything I had to say of our adventures. I soon found Travers had been right as to the Christmas provisions, however, for I found that & party was to be sent out to try whether bullock could be got at the nearest kraal. Under any other circum- stances I should have been glad of the chance to accompany them, but now, warn- ed by a look from Travers, I pleaded that my morning's tramp had been enough for one day, and so remained behind. We were a jovial party at the post, in spite of the heat and the want of a thousand and one conveniences of civilization which we have learned to consider necessaries. There are very few necessaries of life in Bechuana- land, and somehow men seem to get on very well without most of what they are accustomed to elsewhere.” The post at Ma- Kalesi was a singularly democratic com- munity. Of course, there were Benson and his lieutenant, Thompson, who were off- cers, but, except for the purpose of a loose discipline, the distinction was a very nom- inal one. About half a dozen of the men went off on the bullock-hunting expedition, and the rest of us spent our time in smoking, play- ing checkers and doing our best to keep ccol through the heat of the afternoon. Somehow the hours dragged slowly away, though to my impatience the time seemed endless. TI lay and smoked my pipe, dream- ing of the adventure before me. It had been the ambition of my life as a sports- man to kill a lion, and even now I could hardly believe that my dream was so near fulfillment. I only saw Travers occasion- ally, but whenever I did so his look of in- telligence showed that there had been no change in his plans. He was on duty for part, at least, of the afternoon, and I saw little of him until he made his appearance at the evening meal, just as it was growing dark. This meal formed the central point of the day at the Makalesi post, and was invariably a festive occasion, at which the reckless young spirits who formed the gar- rison gave free rein to their high spirits. ‘That evening was no exception; indeed, the idea that it was Christmas time seemed to call forth a greater amount of mirth and jollity than usual. In spite of my excited expectation of the night’s adventure, 1 managed to enjoy myself, and it wasn't un- til we were obliged to break up about 9 o'clock that I began to grow impatient once more. Most of the men not on duty as sentries turned in, but, after trying in vain to soothe my excitement with a pipe, I took to walk- ing restlessly up and down the inclosed space. I had begun to think Travers was never ccming when, just as my attention had been attracted by the sounds of the party returning from their beef-seeking ex- cursion, I saw him glide quietly toward me with something in each hand. “Hush,” he whispered, “come on, Hall— now's our chance! Everybody's after the bullock, so we shall get away clear.” As he spoke he placed one of the guns he carried in my hand and proceeded to creep through a hole under one of the wagons. I followed him in silence. Part I. Travers had chosen the place well, and, although there was little room to spare in getting through, we met with no interrup- tion. No dovbt, he was right in waiting for the return of the foraging party, as we cculd hear plainly that their arrival was the center of interest for the time, and we had made our way cut at the point removed the farthest from the entrance. We got clear of the wsgors and crept cautiously down the slope toward the river. Fortu- nately for us, the night was dark, and ‘Travers’ experience on sentry duty no doubt told him exactly the best course to take to avoid observation. I know I held my breath as I followed him, expecting every moment to hear the challenge of some sentry which would prove fatal to our expedition; ncne came, however, and we glided silently, stooping low as we went down the bare slope till we had reached the comparative safety of the river's bank. We were well equipped for the expedition. Travers had managed to secure two light repeating rifles instead of the heavier weap- cns we had carried in the morning, and now he silentiy handed me my share of the necessary ammunition as we stood for a moment in the darker shadow of the bank. The ford of the Makalesi fs a good one, and the water didn’t reach to our knees as we cautiously crossed the stream and crept up the other bank. This, indeed, was the criti- cal point, and, obeying Travers’ injunction to “bend low.” I followed him. cautiously along the track by which we had come a few hours before. It was only for a few minutes, and then we straightened our- selves once more and stepped out. briskly, exulting in the idea that we were beyond the danger of recall. It was too-dark to:see’ the track with any degree of certainty, but we felt that we couldn't go very far wrong, as we ho difficulty in tracing the Kopje. up, black and threatening, ngainst the dark violet-blue of the sky.” "~ The care with which wé bad observed the features of the country 4n daylight and noted the principal landmarks on our course stood us in good stead now, and Travers seemed hardly ever at fault in his. ‘way toward the stream, which was the ob- ject of our journey. Our progress was slow, bowlder-z rer S sies and mad om way wider-strewn slopes le our through the low, scrubby growths that be- set our path; but at last we rounded the shoulder of the Kopje, the general outline of which we were just able to make out in the » and began to descend toward the stream, the sound of which we could hear coming up to us out of the deeper shadows. We couldn't feel sure that we had reached it exactly at the right spot, but, judging of the character of the descent toward the banks and the outline of the rocks that rose overhead, we felt pretty certain that we were not far wrong. We were still in plenty of time, for, look- ing anxiously at the sky, we could not see a sign of the expected moonrise. “This will be a good spot, Hall) I think,” Travers whispered to me, as we came to a halt at the foot of a huge, rugged bowlder half sunk in the ground. “You can hear the water distinctly, and I fancy I can make cut the gleam of stars reflected down there. Anyhow, this rock will make a good shelter till we get more light.” “All right I whispered in reply. nothing moving yet; do you?” “Hold on a bit. The night's young. I don’t expect they'll begin to come much be- forge the sky grows lighter, and that won't be yet awhile, I should say by the look of it.” “I see It was slow work waiting. We durst not talk, and we couldn’t venture to smoke, in case the smell might scare away the game. The night was dark and intensely still. There was not a breath of wind to stir a leaf, and not a sound reached us but the soft. slow gurgle of the water as it eddied past. It was so still that if either of us moved ever so little the other would start as if something had happened. There was nothing to be done but to lie and wait, and under the circumstances there are few things more trying to the nerves than wait- ing. Perhaps half an hour had passed in this way when I pushed Travers cautiously—I could hear something at last. “Hush!” he replied, in an excited whisper; “keep still, man, for your life—hear them.” I obeyed him, and we lay still and listen- ed. It was a curious sourd. | One soft, cautious footfall after another’ seemed to come up in a whisper out of the darkness below us, and sometimes we seemed to hear a soft brushing still closer at hand, as if something pushed gently through the grass. By and by, as I strained my eyes to peer into the shadows below, I could either see, or fancy I saw, darker shadows that moved in the darkness, and, as I watched more eagerly still, strange, ghostly forms seemed to flit back and forward in the hollow, and more than once a little splash told where some animal had stepped into the stream. My companion’s hand upon my arm warned me to control my excitement, and egain 1 contrived to wait. How long it was I cannot tell, but I Know it seemed to me like hours before there came a gradual change. Gradually, very gradually, the shadows seemed to grow thinner and less black in the hollow below, and as I glanced anxiously upward I could see that the change below was only the reflection of that overhead. The deep violet blue of the sky had faded to a light- er tint of grayish blue, and the stars that had shone so brightly had grown faint and smoky; gleams of pearl gray seemed to shift and wander overhead, and each change reflected itself on the sensitive shadows below—it was growing light. I could make out something at last. Lit- tle by little, the phantom shadows I had imagined rather than seen moving in the darkness, grew substantial and’ resolved themselves into antelopes and other ani mals, some of which were strange to me, in spite of my three months’ hunting in South Africa. I looked eagerly for signs of larger game, but, except a fine specimen of a black antelope, there was nothing particu- I attractive. jot much hope of a lion, I’m afraid,” I whispered to Travers, as my eyes ran eagerly over the game that was in sight. “Patience for a bit,” he whispered back, laying his hand on my arm. In the very act he paused, his head half raised in the attitude of listening. ‘What's that, Hall?” he said at last, in a low, startled tone. “Don't you hear something?’ My head was close to the ground, resting on my arm, and suddenly as he spoke I heard something; could it be the distant sound of a lion’s growl? The idea flashed on my mind, but it was for a moment only. No, it was-not a growl, whatever it was. It was not loud, but it seemed to creep along the ground, low and threatening. The sound was regular and beat on the ear with the orderly vibrations of a pulse. I raised my head and looked at Travers in the dim gray light. His eyes were looking into mine, and his grip nad closed a little more tight- ly on my arm, but his every energy seem- ed to be absorbed in the effort to hear. Al- most involuntarily I glanced once more into the shadowy hollow below, and I could see at a glance that we were not alone in cur surprise. It was evident that the game had heard the sound, and it seemed equally clear that, like ourselves, they were at a loss to understand it. Each head was lift- ed, as if to sten; each animal paused, as if in the effort to comprehend, Like our- selves, they were at a loss—like ourselves, they waited. ‘The noise grew louder and more distinct, yet to me, at any rate, it was as unac- countable as ever. The ground seemed to tremble with strange, short pulsations such as I had never felt before—could it be an earthquake? I was about to suggest it, when Travers raised his hand as if to warn me not to speak, and so we waited for some seconds facing one another, each resting on his elbow, each gazing questioningly into the other's face. Lie Travers whispered at last, letting his hand drop to his side, “I have it.” As he spoke there was a sudden movement below us; the animals had been as quick as my companion—they also had made up their minds. It was like a transformation scene. Even as I looked at them they vanished, and the river gorge was gray, and silent, and lifeless in a moment. It would have been startling at any other time, but at the moment I barely noticed it. “Wrat is it, Travers, in the name of all that’s puzzling?” I asked my companion. I spoke in a louder téne than I had yet used, and ft evidently alarmed ‘Travers, for he replied in a low but impressive voice. “For God's sake keep quiet, Hall! This is serious, man. Lie down and keep close.”” Suiting the action to the word, he drew himself more closely under the huge rock that overhung the spot, and crouched low “What the mischief's up, Travers?” in the grazs. I followed his example in- stinctively, but, even as I did so, I asked in an impatient whisper, “But what the devil is it, man? I can’t make anything of it—ean you?” Travers leaned over toward me and whispered almost futo my ear the ae word: “Niggers! Lie close for your Niggers! I could hardly believe it, but yet my companion seemed sufficien:ly in earnest. I did as he advised, and crept closer to him where he lay stretched out in the dark shadow of the bowlder. I lay with my ear to the ground, and I could hear the sound creeping momentarily near- er. Yes, now I could believe that Travers was right. There was something that must be human in that quick yet orderly tramp that pulsed along the ground. Nearer and nearer! Suddenly, within a dozen yards of the spot where we lay, they came into sight and streamed past us at a quick charging trot. Rank after rank; gray, misty and ghost-Ifke, in the dim shadows, but so close that I could Pei Sore think they were rp een * grim reply, as he turned away and to retrace his steps. -¥ f him, feeling a little ashamed my question. The vision of the serried of these g warriors was me still, and it seemed to answer my question. Once clear of the dark shadow our rock, it was lighter, and we could even trace the path made by the marching Impt over the grass and through the lergrowth of dwarf shrubs without di ity. We fol- lowed it for some silence, but when we reached the angie the Kopje it suddenly turned off to the right. My companion paused for a ent as his eyes followed the directi of the track. thought so. Well, it was lucky we broke bounds, after all, though ] suspect the doctor won’t glve us much credit for that.” Ten minutes more of hard. walking and we came in sight of the Makaiesi river and the post on the rising acana beyond it. Both were now bathed in the first level light of the rising moon, and it was with a sudden feeling of unreasonable re- lief that I saw how peaceful and undis- turbed the place looked. ‘The sight ap- peared to affect Travers differently, for he quickened his pace almost to a run, and in less than five minutes we had forded the river and ascended the bank on the side next the post. In another minute we were challenged by the sentry, who added, with a laugl “What have you been up to, Travers? “Is the oid man about, or Thompson?” was Travers’ reply. “What the mischief’s vu), Travers?” ex- claimed the astonished sentry. “The less you see of the old man, or Thompson, either, tonight, the healthier it's likely to be for you. Do you want to spend Christmas in Hmbo?” : “There, Morris, don’t be @ fool! You don’t suppose we've been racing for fun tonight, do you? It's serious this time. We've just stalked 500 of these Matabele devils, and if we don’t look alive there'll be more of us in Kmbo by Christmas than we bargain for.” The sentry’s rejoinder was very em- phatic, as he wheeled and led the- way into the inclosure. Part Il. Two hours later I was standing, looking at the results of my labors in building up mealie bags on the top of the low earth- work that surrounded the post on rather more than three sides. I was tired, but my share of the work was done, and only awaiting the inspection which at the mo- ment was being carried on by the doctor and his leutenant. The piece that had been allotted to me to build came next to the wagons, and was close to the spot at which only a few hours before Travers and crept through on our Hon-hunting expedition. “A good, solid piece of work, Mr. Hall!” My eyes had wandered to the silver gleam of the river in front of me, and I had failed to notice. him come up to where I leaned against the corner of the wagon. “It was hereabouts you got cut, I think, on your hunting expedition. Well, you had ,better take charge of the place and see that no- body gets in. As for lions, you stand a fair chance to see something quite as exciting without going to find #t.” It was the only reference Benson ever made to our unauthorized expedition. Travers had told him the whole affair in a few short sentences, as he had sat with one leg out of his bed, just as he had been roused ‘to hear what we had to say on our return. “Now,” he added, “get an hour's sleep, and then have something to eat, for I must have every man fit‘and’well by day- break.”” t Sleep? The very idea seémed absurd, but I had at least enough sense of' discipline to try what lying down on my rough bunk would do toward obeying orders. It cer- tainly didn’t seem hopeful, ‘for it was my first experience of anything quite so excit- “It's time to be moving.” ing as this promised to be, and, for the first minute or two, my expectation seemed likely to be justified. I felt very much as "I had done while waiting in the darkness, the night before, for the arrival of the game, and it was only by an effort that I succeeded in making myself He still. It didn’t last, however. In a few minutes the present situation grew indistinct and mixed itself with the past. I was once more lying in the long grass under the big rock; I could once more trace the moving outlines in the hollow below me, that seemed little more ,than darkness in mo- tion. “I could see. the glittering stars over- head, and the dark sky growing lighter moment by moment as I looked. Suddenly somebody shook me by the shoulder, and I started up only to see Travers standing be- side me with a lantern tn his hand. I had slept for nearly two hours. “Hush,” he said, in a low voice; it's time” to be moving, and I want you to have a look at these beggars. To throw.on again the few articles of elcthing I had taken off was the work of only a second, and then I followed, Trav- ers out of the hut. It was. the first of the dawn. Travers laid his hand on my-arm and pointed across the river toward the blacknets of the frowning Kopje. “Our friends are up to time, Hall, you see!” My eyes followed the direction of his finger, and now I could make out where vague, shadowy bodies of misty-looking figures were moving slowly toward the ford of the Makalesi. They were still some distance off, and they were evidently in no hurry, but, even in that dim, uncertain light I could see that they were marching in military order, and, as I looked, I could fancy I heard once more the low throbbing sound of their last night's tread. “Surely there are more of these fellows than we saw last night, Travers,” I said, dropping my voice instinctively in a lower tone. “I should say so—rather!" he replied, with a half laugh; ‘‘we are in luck that we didn’t mee the second division of them, for there must be quite as many again there as we saw, but the doctor expects another batch of them to take us in the rear.” I looked at Travers, and I suppose I must have looked startled. He laugh- ed—his own light, reckless ‘laugh. “Foct,” he said. ‘Better than a lion af- ter all, old man; but come on and get some supper,.or breakfastowltichever you iike to call it. The orderat-ate strict—‘at- tegd to the commissariatfs\® daresay we shall need ft all before Bakeréan bring us relief.”” i is I followed Travers intasthe mess hut, where we found most of the:Mtle garrison busy over a substantial (meiil. rcvnd and I could see no’ si; prospect had spoiled any ontbear appetites. ‘There was little talk, indeed, and none of the usual noise and fun, but each man seemed to be eaiing in a steady, business- like way. Travgrs and I 4outd seats and followed their imple. We .had scarcely firished our meal. when swademy the bugle sounded, and every man leaped to his feet by @ common: impulse. Again, and yet again, the clear notes of!ithe' bugle rang pei gh the morning air, and,ms we troop- cut of the hut, all-eyese were turned in’ the direction of the adver By. They. of golden light. stream of sunshine burst in the crest of the Kopje and f zling brilliancy on the ridge on which our little fortification stood. For some mo- ments I could see nothing, and fore I had fully recovered the use of my eyes, something sang through the air just over my head and a sharp report of a rifle foliswed—the attack had begun. The first sunshine had been the signal, and those of the warriors who had guns were already advancing. There might have been two hundred of them,’ and they came on in loose skirmishing order, firing as they advanced. They crossed the river and spread themselves so as gradually to face us on rather more than three sides. They were probably no great marksmen, but they couldn't miss the fortification, and their bullets sang dnd whistled overhead, pattered on the roofs and walls of the huts. and threw up little ee dust = — a themselves in the dry ground o! Benceure ‘There was something impressive about their cautious deliberation. Not a shot was fired by us in reply to their fire, but their movements did not seem to be hurried on that account. Slowly, feta ately, grimly, they closed in, the circle of fire growing smaller and smalier as they advanced; still not a shot was fired in an- swer—still we lay silently watching and waiting. The eae had grown hot. It seemed to pour down in streams of liquid fire upon us as we waited, and already I regretted that I hadn't provided myself with a supply of water. I was in the very act of looking round to see whether it might not be pos- sibie to remedy the omission when I was recalled by a sudden noise. It was not a shout; it was hardly a yell; it sounded more like the sullen roar of the breaking sea on a distant beach. I sprang to my feet in- stinctively, and a single glance was suffi- crent to explain—the impi was charging. On they came like a black cloud driven before a gale—as dark, as threatening, up- parently as irresistible. It was a magniil- cent sight, and for several seconds I stood and gazed. On they came—on, on, without a. break in the dark lines, at a pace that seemed to increase each moment. Down the river bank; across the ford; disappear- ing for a second or two as they plunged, only to appear the next, like the crest of somé huge roller, gt the bottom of the slope crowned by our little fortress. On, on! And now they had swept past their own riflemen, and I could fancy I saw the glcam- ing eyeballs and flashing eyes of the first rank, as they dashed forward with uplifted spears. “Now, men!” The two words rang out, sharp and clear, from the lips of the doc. tor, and they were answered the next in- stant by the quick, sharp crack of.the mag- azine rifles, which seemed to roll round and round the inclosure with a crackling noise which drowned for the moment the sound of the advance. The gray smoke rose in fleecy clouds on every side, and each man could see nothing except what was directly before him, and even that only by snatches. They had seemed to be almost upon us when the order to fire was given, yet now I strained my eyes all but vainly to catch sight of the enemy. Now and then, indeed, dark figures, with tossing shields and glancing spears, seemed to filt past in the smoky twilight, and as often as they did so I fired, but with what effect I couldn't even guess. The fire must have been deadly at so short a range, and yet they came.on. Nearer and nearer! I could hear the sharp whirr of the spears; I seemed to hear the tread of their footsteps; more than once I had@ seen men go Gown who couldn't have been more than a few feet away. Suddenly @ gust of wind blew strongly in my face, and the next moment I could see. It was a startling sight. There, within a few yards of us, were the ranks of the enemy, but no longer calm and unbroken. Tossing, leaping, rushing forward or falling back» Their lines broken and_ shattered; the ground strewn with dark figures, some writhing as they lay, and others lying still. In spite of it all, they were struggling to advance. At that moment there was a rush, and several of them attempted to cross the fence of bags within a few feet of my pos: The sharp crack of my next neighbor's rifle and my own answered the attempt, and two of them fell backward, spear in hand; the other two had reached our slight fortification, however, and in a moment they were half over. As I sprang to my feet to meet them the black cloud of smoke that had lifted seemed to settle down again, and the figures grew suddenly dim and misty. Still, I sprang forward, clubbing my rifle as I did so. Something flashed past me as I came, and for an in- stant my shoulder felt as if it had been scorched, and then I struck. A dim figure stood out for a second in the darkness and then it disappeared. There had been an- other, I knew, and I made a step or two forward in the smoke. As I did so, he was upon me. With a leap like a tiger he sprang at me, and I could see the broad-headed spear ficsh in his hand, even in that dim light. I heaved up my rifle to strike once more, and in the very act we met. The man was al- Most a giant—six inches taller and half as heavy again as myself—and I went down. I could see his black, fierce eyes glare down into mine; I could see his uplifted arm holding the speai could even see it as it came down—down—and that was all! “It was with ‘a strange, startled feeling that I opened my eyes, and I was imore startled to find them look up into the clear sky and to feel the bright, hot sun in my face. I closed my eyes quickly, but I was distinctly conscious of a heavy weight that seemed to press down my legs, and then of a@ voice which I seemed to know, though somehow it sounded distant, too. “Bless my soul,” it seemed to say in a veice that was like Travers’, “here's a thundering great nigger lying on top of Hall. I think I tried to laugh, but just then I lost con- scfousness again. ‘When I came to myself I was lying in the bunk I had occupied since I came to the pest at Malakesi, and the first sound that reached me was that of a song which I seemed to have heard somewhere in my dreams. I tried to sit up, but felt strange- ly giddy, and lay down again. There was a icvial laugh at the door, and the next mo- ment I saw Travers’ face bending over me. “What has happened?’ I asked feebly. “Oh, nothing much! Baker, fortunately, was just in time. Now you know what it is to enjoy a hot Christmas.” (The end.) —_————— Lynched. From Judge. Bronco Pete—“Yes, lady; I wuz wid son w’en he died. He looked jes’ like angel too w'en he wuz dyin’.”” Mrs. Brown (weeping)—-‘He did?” Bronco Pete—“Oh, yes; indeed he did— swingin’ back an’ forth in de air, ye know, almost ez if he had wings.” A cup of comfort, good healthand refreshment—made in a minute— it FINEST WRITING KNOWN. The Remarkable Possibilities in Writ- ing on Glass With a Diamond. From the New York Herald. The wildest drgam of fine postal card writing fails to be of interest when com- pared with what has been written on glass with a diamond point. So marvelously fine are the marks that have been traced on glass that when, by means of a powerful microscope, we clearly read the words covered by a speck when seen with the naked eye it is difficult to realize tne full- ness of the fact presented. Think of legible writing so fine that twenty copies of the entire Bible can be written in the narrow space of one square inch! Particular attention was called to this strange fact by Stephen Helm, a mem- ber of the New York Microscopical Soci- ety and a fellow of the Royal Society of Lordon. “The account of the wonderfully fine writing produced by Mr. Charles S. Mon- nier on a postal card 1s very interesting,” said Mr. Helm, as he sat by his micro- scope, with a bit of glass in his hand that showed a black ring in its center about the size of a silver three-cent piece. “His ac- complishment is quite wonderful, but it is nothing compared with what is on this glass. “Trat is the Lord’s prayer,” said Mr. Helm. “It contains 227 letters and is written within the five hundredth part of a square inch. In other words, the covers is one-twentieth by one tw of an inch, and five hundred of suc! are contaiped within the bounds >! gle ey i inch, which at the same rate, would mtain 113,500 letters. Look at it and read the words.” The bit of glass was adjusted under the micrescope, and there, in gocd, plain writ- ing, was the Lord’s prayer. As I read the lines a single speck of dust that floated unobserved before our eyes settled on the glass side and obscured the entire prayer. “This writing is not regarded by micro- scopists familiar with minute forms as anything wonderful,” said Mr. Helm, “but the postal card story makes it of general public interest. Now, look at this slide.” The glass slide referred to was similar to the other, and within the little black circle marked on it there was no mark to be seen with the naked eye or with the strurgest hand magnifying glass. “You can see nothing there,” continued Mr. Helm, “neither can you under an or- dinary microscope, but the same prayer is written there as on the other glass, only, as compared with the other, the space is as New York city lot compared with a Dutchess county farm. Look at it under the strongest power my microscope is cap- able of.” ‘There it was, the Lord’s prayer, in the same handwriting as the other—both being done by Prof. Webb, of the Royal Micro- scopical Society—but ever so much smaller. “The larger writing, az I have told you,” said Mr. Helm, “covers a space measured by cne-twentieth of an inch one way and one-twenty-fifth the other. This one covers @ space measured by one-five-hundredth part of an inch in one direction, and one- six-hundred and fifty-third part of an inch in the other direction. In other words, it s that with writing of that size 74,- letters can be placed in a single square inch. The force of this is easier comprehended when we remember that the Eble contains 3,566,480 letters, which means that the entire Christian Scripture can be written legibly, twenty times re- peated, within the space of a single square a and have considerable vacant space eft. Tkis wonderfully minute writing, which requires a microscope magnifying 600 di- ameters to make it readable, is produced by moving the hand and forming the let- tere as In crdinary very fine writing. The pen that is used is connected with a series of levers that reach a distance of six feet, where is placed the glass slide to be writ- ten on. These levers are so adjusted that the amount of motion is lessened as it travels along the successive levers, until, when it reaches the delicate end armed with a minute diamond that rests on the glass surface, it is reduced to the required fine- ness. spaces a sin- ———— — +0 Foiled Again. From the Detroit Free Press. The grocer was weighing some sugar for the woman in the dyed blue bonnet, when the man in the black frock coat and yel- lowish white tie, who had been standing in the door for some minutes, came inside and laid a silver quarter on the counter. “I picked it up on the floor, just at the edge of the steps,” he said. “It must be- long to you. A quarter or a thousand dol- lars, sir—it is the principle of the thing that I look at. I wart nothing that is not mine. There ts the money. The grocer laid a large forefinger on the quarter and shoved it back across the coun- ter. “You put det money in your pocket, mein friend,” he said. “But, sir, you or one of your clerks must have. dropped it, and it rolled over there. My motto has always been——” “I believe,” said the grocer, “dot you yoost moved your family in dot house across the. street dis morgen. Vas it not 80?” - “Yes, sir, I did, and it being convenient, we expect to do a good geal of tra—” “You put dot-quarter back in your pocket righd away. Dot vas not mein quarter. You put him back in your pocket, und ven your vite come ofer vor dose groccries you will remember dot my derms vos spod cash efery time.” +04 ——_ Electricity Astonished Hii From the New York World. B-r-r-r-rup! The trolley car started off with a jerk and the stranger from Cohoes sat down with a snap. He got up in a hur- ry, felt of himself anxiously, felt of the seat curiously, peered under the seat in- quisitively and looked up the hole where the stovepipe used to be vacantly. “Well, I swan!” he said. “What's wrong” asked the conductor, with sympathy. “Wall, I'd like to know haow in common sense you heat that ere car?” he said. . “Tricity,” said the conductor. “Tricity, eh? Wall, I swan! Great thing, that "tricity, hain’t it? Fust it shoves you, then it lights you, and naow it cooks you! cae else in the ‘tricity line, young man?’ From Life. THE DIFFERENCE. —____RAILROADS.— WASHINGTON, ALEXANDKIA AND MT. VERNON RAILWa). From Station, 13% st. and Penna. ave. In effect J ES FOR ALEXANDRIA. —6- 905, 7:35 ex., °S:00, * 8:30 ex., 9:00, 9:50, *16:05 11.00, 11:45, 52205 ex., 12:30, *1:15, 1:45, x, 240, 230, 4:00 ex., *4.15 ox. Ce 8:20 ex., Sit sire 6:20, °7:00, *B2 92 "10.00, “Daily. FROM ‘T:20 ex. Ts *10-00, 1 em. u 2:00, 5 8: 4:45" ex., 448 ex, 5: e , 6:15, 7:00, T:15 ex. S00, ‘<B:00, 710200, *11 FOR MOUNT VERNON, RIVERSIDE AND WAY San —s-00, 10:05, °11:00, 12:05, 2:06, Gen. Pass. Agent. CHESAPEAKE AND OHIO RAILWAY. THROUGH THE GRANDEST SCENERY AMERICA. ALL TRAINS VESTIBULED, ELECTRIC LIGHTED, STEAM HEATED, ALL MEALS SERVED IN DINING CARS. STA- TION SIXTH AND 6 STREETS. Schedule in effect December 18, 1896, 2:20 P.M. DAILY—Ciuciwmati and St. Louis Spe- clal—Solid train for Ciacinuati, Puliuiaa sieepmce fo Cincinnati, Lexington, Louisvalie, Indianapolis and St Louis’ without chinge Parlor cars Cuncin- Batt £0 Culcago. 11:37 P.M. DAILY—F. B. V. Limited + for Cincinuati. Pullutan’ sleepers to Cinclouatl, Lexington and Louisville without change. for reception of passengers at ¥ p.m. compartment car to Virginia Hot chauge, Tuesdays apd Satardays. Daily” cout for, qhe Surings. “Sleepers Cincinnatt to Chicago 10:57 AM., EXCEPT SUNDAY—Via_ Rictn for Old oetollk, it oe 2:20 P.M. DAML Por vile, nt Reservations and tickets at Chesaj and offices, 5i3 and 1421 Peunsylvania avenue, 11 street’ northwest, and at the station. vc . W. ‘Gordonsville, mols-384 General BALTIMORE AND OHIO. KAILKOAD, le in effect December 7, 1898. Leave Washington from station corner of New avenue and C street. For Chicago and Northwest, Vestibuled Limited trgins 10:00 a.m., §:05, p.m. Incinnati, St. Louis inna, ¥ tibuled Uinited 8.40 pm — eee For Pittsburg and Gieveland, express detiy 10:00 a.m. and §:50 p.m, For Wincuester and way stations, 10:00 a.m, 1 ror Kew Orleans, ingha' ‘New Memphis, Birmingham, Chat- tapcogn, Knoxville, Bristol and Roanoke, 9:00 om det Sleeping Care through. For Luray, 3:40 p.m. daily. For Battimore, week days, 5:00, 27:10, 38:00, 8:30, x9:30, x10: x12:05, 12:10, x12:35, 3:00, 3: 5 x50, . x5:30, x6:20, 6:30, x8:00, . and 'x12:01 night. x9:00 _ 51205, x All trains Muminated wth Phas. Ligh ine MMuminated with Pintsch t. For Philadelphia, New York, Boston and’ the Ba: 8:00 (10:00 a.m. Dining Car), 12: 05 Dining Car), (12:01 Car open at 10:00 o'clock). Sun- Dining Car), (12:35 Dining Se 12:35 p.m ‘week days, 12:35 p.un. Sundays Except Sunday. trains, Baggage called for and checked from bowels and residences by Union Transfer Co. on ordezs left at ticket offices, 619 Pennsylvaria avenue n.w., New Car). 12:07 nigh Sleeping: Additional trains for Philadel- la, week days, 7:05 a.m. iy, 8:00 p.m. Buffet Porlor Cars on ali day trains. For Atiautic City, 10:00 a.m., 12: York avenue ‘and 15th street and at . WM. M. GREENE. CHAS 0 SCULL, Gen. Manager. Gen. Pass. Agt. eT SOUTHERN RaILWay, PIEDMONT AIR LINE Schedule in effect December 1, 1896. All trains a and leave at Pennsylvania pas- Senger station. 8:00 A.M.—Daily.—Local for Danville, Charlotte ind Way stations. Connerts at Manassas for Stras- rg. Harrisonburg and way stations, daily except Sunday, and at Lynchburg with the Norfolk and Western, daily, and with the Chesapeake and Ohio dally for the Natural Bridge and Lexington. 11:15 A.M.—Daily.-THE UNITED STATES FAST MAIL. Carries Puliman Buffet Sleepers, New York and Washington to Jacksonville, uniting at Sal bury (ith Pullman Sleeper for “Asheville and Hot Springs, N. C.: Knoxville and Chatin Tenn., and at Charlotte with Pullman Sleeper for Angusta, Pullman Buffet Sleeper Washington to Galveston, Texas, via Montgomery, New Orleans and Houston, and Pullman Sleeper New York to Atlauta. Solid train Washington to New Orleans without change. Sunset Personally Conducted ‘Tourist. Excursion Through Si on this train every Saturday to Francisco without chnuge. 01 P.M.—Local for Front Royal, Strasburg and Sunday. arlottesville. WASHINGTON AND SOUTH- WESTERN BULED Pullman Vestibuled Sleepers, Dining Cars and Day Coaches. Pullman’ Sleepers’ New "¥ Ville and Hot Springs. N. C.; New York to Tampa, via Charlotte, Columbia, Savannah and Jackson: ville, and New York to Memphis, via Birmingham; New York to New Orleans, via Atlanta and Mont- Vestibuled Day Coach Washington to At- Southern Raflway Dining Car Greensboro” to Montgomery. TRAINS ON WASHINGTON AND OHIO DIVIS- JON Jeave Washington 9:01 a.m. daily and 4-45 P.m. daily except Sunday, and 6:25 p.m. Sund only for Round Hill: 4:32 p.m. dally. except San- das, for Leesburg, and 6:25 p.m. daily for Herndon, , arrive at Wa: 8:26 a.m. and 3:00 206 a. = Se 5 ex- cept y m. daily, except Sunday, frown ‘Leesbu ¥ stk rE. Through trains from the scuth arrive at Fon daily. Ington, 6:42 a.m., 2:20 p.m. and 9:40 p.m Matassas Division, 12:40 p.m., daily, except Sun- day, and 8:30 a.m. daily trom Chorlottesvil Sleeping Car reservation and tion furnished at offices, 511 and 1300 Pennsylvania avenue, and at Pennsylvania railroad passenger station. W. H. GREEN. General Sapt. 3. M. CULP. Traffic Manager. W. A TURK. Gen. ‘Agent. LS. BROWN. Geo. Agent Pass. Dept. PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD. Station corner of Sixth and B streets, In Effect November 15, 1896. 7:50 AM. Week-days. PITTSBURG EXPRESS.— Parlor abd Dining Cais Harrisburg to Pittsburg. 10:50 A.M. PENASYLVANIA LIMITED. Tullman Sleeping, Dining Smoki Harrisbu: ‘imnat!, Indianapolis, Toledo. " Buffet Varior to Harrisburg. A.M. FAST LINE.—Pullman Buftot Parlor to Harrisburg. Buff 1 : a urg. Buffet Parlor Car Harrisburg clarat. Louisville and Chica; 7:10 P.M. Cleveland. Dini 7:10 P.M. ESTE! ESS. Pullman yim, Cars Washington to Pittsougg and Uar- risburg to St. Louis and Cincines:t. Dining Cy 10:40 P.M. PACIFIC EXPRESS. —Poliman Sle: ping Car to Pittsbu: 7:50 A.M. for Cananda! .. Rochester and Niagara Falls ds except ' 10:50AM. for Elmiza md Renovo fatty, ex Sunday. For Lock Hav-n week-days and Will- famsport Sundays, 8:40 P.M. 730 oan By histor Hgches:er, Buicly, end iagara Fa . except Saturday, with Sleep- ing’ Car Waskingtn to Suspeastos’ Brklge sha 10:40 P.M. for Erie, Canandaigua, Rochester, falo aad Niagara Falls daily, Sieeping Car mira. For Philadelphia, New York and the East ME SONGHESSION AL SRAUTED. eats, ior Cars, with Diniag Car from Baltivore. lar at 7:00 (Dining Car), 8:00, 9:00, 10:00 i Car), and iis «Dini it from Wil- But- Wash a 245, 2215, 4:20, €:50, 10:00 and , Ge Seeder. 3:00 ining Car, $00, f from Wilmingto ny 220, 8:50, 10 Pp. i, 6:15, Tio ake ‘g:10, hod 11235 Pat ‘Line. and 4:36 VM. 7:00, 12:15 and 4:20 except Sunday. Sundays, 9°00 A.M. 4 AM., 3:46 P.M. ety oer ah ack aya! AE and Seabeard Air yl. for Quaa- ‘where, olers esting agent for Retralf’ Velvatine, Ortagtatan | st. ww., bet. N ond O ots,