Evening Star Newspaper, April 13, 1930, Page 90

6 THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, APRIL 13, 1930 i WITH CLEAN H ANDS—By Mary Hastings Bradley | An Unusual Story of Another Land and the Strange W orkings of Fate. ¢ OLI, poli, boy—careful with that gun!” And Drew knocked up the barrel of the rifle which his un- tutored gun-boy was fairly thrust- ing into the small pf his back as they slid down the muddy trail. The eiephant tracks were a good two hours old and voices were unguarded. “Nomine hi—like tiis.” And Drew illustrated ‘or the dozenth time to the heedless black. The gun was on safe, but one never knew when the catch might be moved. And when that gun went off, Drew did not mean it to be into his own back-—he meant it or the back of the white man plodding ahead of them. . Sioane was not to return from the hunt. The definiteness of that decision, reached at last after agonies of soul-searciing, brought to Drew the desperate quiet of finality. And already he had discovered how one became wonted to ideas, He told himself he would feel no more real compunction about putting Sloane out of iife than he would a beast—not so much. The diffi- culty was how to do it. He'd rather not have to fake an accident, of course. But so long as Sloane and he were not,K alone—and he had induced Barton to join for that very reason—there would be a reliable witness for She accident theory to testify for him. What he hoped for was another kind of ac- ecident—an elephant charge or a mix-up with buffalo. Anything might happen on a hunt. The deuce of it was that it rarely happened to the right man, Drew reflected, with grim rue- fulness—but he meant, very decidedly, to assist Fate to the utmost of his opportunity. He had a conviction that the next few days were going to see an end to the nightmare. - must, or he’'d go mad—run amuck and kill Sloane with his bare hands some fine day after one of Sloane’s hiccoughing leers. And then the fat would be in the fire. What re- mained of his own cool intelligence told him that he must do the job now, before people realivzed that there was bad blood between them, before any slandering tongue put its mark young Peggy's innocent pame. thing must end. For months he had think of that brute living in that lonely Peggy and not another white, but not leave Sloane, for e little boy, that helpless ter, to his rages; she wreak the child. as she passed the £ REFREY S E;E%EESE i £ : % giies L s gzgxfi 3535 1] g%i*‘s~g’ a§=55’§§ i *;fg‘fisx EEgi £ 2 isreaksd LRI Rl LN A {HHHLH Egfisgfgs%giéséggsgfi RN 15 3555555%%5515 T EEKE it I Es gl’ i i ' FEREEDY Vil gt Brhy iee EéE i HRITE g ¥ £ Heests Drew had never denied the man his ele- mental courage and dominating force. He ap- peared to glory in his unpopularity in official circles, but Drew had learned that his sneers hid a thin-skinned resentment. His egoism was unresting. He imagined affronts. Dll.l' had learned to know his neighbor since the day, down in Kampala, when Sloane had appeared at the club with his new wife. That incredibly innocent-looking girl, with her friendly smile and her' bright gray eyes, under the elfin locks of soft brown hair! Down the hill the trail led into a jungle- choked ravine, through which a narrow stream meandered under its thorn thickets. Here the elephant had turned into an old buffalo track; the spoor was more difficult to follow and the going was siower. Behind the tracker Sloane erowded his way along, his own gun in the pride of his strength. letting the bram- bles lash heedlessly back of him as he passed. The man was held in a vise that tightened and tightened—— Drew fended his face as best he could and held back the branches for the boy after him. “Mbaya sana (very bad),” breathed the boy disconsolately, surveying the scratches that showed gray on his long, lean, black Jegs jut- ting from the few inches of ragged shorts that were his trousers. A torn and sleeveless jersey completed his®costume. He was a pastoral boy, knowing w wiider than the herding fields of Toro, and already his spirit was satiated with the ad- venture of elephant hunting. He sighed and changed Drew’s gun to another shoulder. “Mbeya sana,” he sighed again, hgpeful of a cigarette. Absently, Drew merely nodded. His eyes, mechanically intent on the way, held the inner remoteness of his thought. They were deep- blue eyes, deep set in a spare, high-boned face— the eyes of a soldier or an ascetic—not at all ordinarily fine looking, quiet mannered and well was naturally a rather shy man and had the aloof quality of one who has lived much himself. During the war he had been one the youngest lieutenants, having left the i g R g 3 £ F B3E sEdfas Africa to ranch. Uganda, at last, had him a measure of success. But it would taken more than lack of success to drive him from Africa. There was no other place now in the world where he could live, he felt, where he couldefeel space about him and freedom of will, where & man’s qualities counted so truly. He was thinking now of that day when Peggy had first gasped out her plight to him—that day when he had met her, sick and shaken with misery, flying blindly along the road at dusk, while in the house behind her Sloane practiced what he was pleased to call his discipline upon his boy. “He’s doing it to hurt me—because I—I—I— made him angry!” the girl choked out, her ace a flame of shame and fury. And then she ® L - shaken her brown head stubbornly. No, she would never leave the boy. There was no way of getting him away from his father. The law was all on his side. She had nothing that law would call a case. No, she would just have to stay—and the gray eyes fixed in a strained, desperate stare and the soft lips tensed into a bitter line—she would-have to stay and carry on. Drew had an idea that Sloane suspected that he knew how matters stood and was ironically aware why Drew had so suddenly bestirred him- self to become more neighborly; why he rode over so frequently on his motor bike; why he got up so many little social affairs at his own place. _Those gatherings had all becen made for her to bring her in touch with the wives of some of the officials and make some feminine friends for her, but Sloane had often frustrated him by staying away with her. 'HE tracker had halted now at some deep prints in the mud. He tested the warmth of them with his hand and examined the marks in the vicinity. The spoor was cold. In the little opening the three white men bunched behind him, waiting the verdict. “How old does he say it is?” questioned Bar- ton. And when Drew answered, “T'wo hours,” he exploded testily: “Two hours! We've been two hours behind that brute for two days!” “And Drew thought we'd be up with him last night—eh, Drew?” There was a jeering note in Sloane’s jocular- seeming tone. Barton caught it—he thought it due to Sloane’s bad temper. It had been show- ing more and more all day. He himself was hot and weary and the charm of elephant hunting was lessening every instant, but he was & courteous man and averse to bad temper, “What do you say now, Drew—shall we make it by night?” he asked. “Unless he gets the alarm we ought to eatch up with him in & few hours. He may stop sny time to feed, you know. He's an uncomman big one,” said Drew honestly, but determined, too, to fire their energy. “It's sporting of you to be so keen,” said Barton, “since you've given Sloane and me the first two shots.” “Oh, this chap may have some friends with him when we meet him,” said Drew easily. “One never knows.” He was aware that Sloane’s eyes had slewed about in a glance of quick distrust. He won- dered if Sloane had any conjectures about this hunt. He had rather urged them into it. But it was natural enough. This was an uncom- monly big elephant that had b2en in the habit of leading a herd into the shambas and ruining the fields. Sloane was always keen for a hunt and the size of the tracks promised big ivory. Suddenly now behind them came a row of porters in goatskins, with the bundles of tents and food boxes on their heads. On they came, crowding down the slippery path between the walls of green, anxious not to be too far away from the white men’s guns when in the forest among elephants. “I've told those fools to stay back!” said Sloane violently. ‘“They can stay a mile back— we’ll send for them when we want them. The idiots—they’ll jabber and scare every beast within reach!” He turned and strode back to the leader and, after the first word to him, he caught the fellow a hard kick that sent the porter stagger- ing. The man’s load slipped and he clutched at it in vain. The load went down with a crash, Furiously Sloane kicked him again—it was not a pretty kick—then stood growling orders at the disorganized mnatives. “Our friend is hot-headed,” said Barton in his quiet, detached voice. Drew was silent. He was immensely grateful to Sloane for giving this exhibition before Barton. Whatever happened, Drew wanted Barton on his side. . Both men stood watching while Sloane hustled the porters back out of sight. He came back to them, wiping his red, streaming face beneath the helmet, with no apology for his outburst. Drew gave him that merit—he had the courage of his offensiveness. He asked no man's leave. Well, Drew would ask no man, either. “The fools!” Sloane rumbled. “They’ll know better next time! Well, come on. No good letting this track get any colder.” He gestured the tracker on ahead and was off at his heavy stride, his gun under his arm. Then he turned to grunt, “Cigarette!” over his shoulder to Drew. As Drew extended the opened case he took several without a “Thank you!” It was his customary contemptuous mane ner with Drew. Once the young man had red- dened at that manner, but now, in the quiet finality of his resolution, he could afford an unresentful calm, It was surprising to find that he felt ne stirring animus against Sloane now, no goad of pulsing hatred. It was as though the man were already dead. His child would nevermore ~ sob himself to sleep in terror. And Peggy would be forever free, and this horror would become only the memory of a nightmare to her young spirit...Drew was following a dead man. N they went. The ravine led into a swampy, tangled forest, and here the elephant had circled, eutting across bis old tracks. By good luck they found the fresher trail, and followed that. They were not long now be- hind the elephant. The forest grew denser, closing in about them. The air was gray-green, with only occasional shifts of sunlight striking through the tops of the high trees. Fallen trunks and rank, moist undergrowth, and & network of clinging vines, entangling parasite roots, and cord-like liana made the place impenetrable save where the great beast had crashed his way along. Even on his trial there was difficulty. Thick boughs that had given way before the elephant’s monumental bulk had sprung back and interlocked again. Bushes that he had trampled over had leaped resiliently up. Fallen trunks of giant trees, over which he had step- ped, made them scramble underneath, through the heavy mud. The twilight air felt cool, but perspiration started at every effort; the wet clay clung to their feet like pulling nands... They were very near the elephant now. They came to places where the sap was still dripping from branches he had broken off to feed upon, where the spiders were racing agitatedly in the torn webs. From force of habit they tested the air with wet fingers, but the direction of the wind could make no possible differenee to their approach. They had to follow in the track. It was very still in the forest, utterly silent save for the squelching of their heavy boots in the mud, and the slapping of the branches against their khaki clothes, and the occasional thwack of & bough on their pith helmets. No other living thing seemed in that solitude. Not even theé monkeys called from their tree-tops, though the infrequent spring of a released bough some- times told where one had taken upward flight, And then they heard a low, reverberating rumble which told them the elephant was at hand. Suddenly the tracker made a gesture and slipped instantly aside, vanishing behind & tree-bole. He had pointed to the right, where the path curved. They stared with all their eyes, guns at their shoulders. Sloane was to have the first shot, making the elephant his, but the others were to pour in their lead after he had fired. At close quarters a man may need all the guns at hand. Something stirred. High up between green oranches they caught a glimpse of a dark patch, and then the bulge of a huge forehead pushed slowly forward over a clump of slender trees. Boomb roared Sloane’s gun, and again, boom! The silence was shattered with the thunder of it. The forest became a fury and confushon—trees erashed and bushes cracked as if a cyclone had seized hold upen them, I