The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 10, 1904, Page 2

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. HIS is the first install- ment of Archer Butler Hulbert's sterling book of Russian intrigue and Ko- rean superstition, built upon historical fact by a writer who knows the Orient thor- oughly, and the secret diplo- macy of which he writes. This novel, indeed, is in such enormons demand that The Sunday Call has decided to print it complete in four con- secutive installments, so you will get itall quickly,no long waits between installments and no interminable series of “continued in our mnext” catchlines. You cannot se- cure the “Queen of Quel- parte” elsewhere in any form for five times what it will cost in The Sunday Call. o 904, b her Butler H SEALED ORDERS the ng ra etween ons are whom 1 smothered ear the cap ar curred to me that letter mig explain this other rhystery which was so like slow poison to me B s se t I fou a gentle- T ¥ and Dulcine sat up quickiy at sight of h she sa wly, “mey 1 tyn?" Then, in 1, not without a which belied their my father—Colonel glance, the low words, coupled with the name Oranoff wer’s passenger- that the two were halting noft had married a maintained a though he was st constantly in service. His name was wel lands, ol known ™ introduction voere Miss Oranoff hastened m v lightly scor- ing me for r ad my steamer letters Not one word about steamer letters hed pess 2 se from home first” she me, despite a quick, low 2 her father. The command, challenge, made me of the secret within t one envelope would CHAPTER n A DRE Whenever 1 in whick ploy THAT LIVES. 'k back to those hours to enter the em- noff of the Russian of Colonel father's lifelong friend, I st my light-hearted care- d I am sobered. How much » ignorance; its buoyancy, itable ‘hopefulness, its reck- less self-confidence, were, each and all, but frr that monstrous sver urged you, Robert,” the “ 1o interest yourself in this we play, but it is the one grand he world. Where elee are the stakes so great—the gains and losses so £? This offer of Oranoff's a splendid chance to ‘take a u care to. 1 deterrmined to letter r game of let you come to your own decision alone at sea. Make it and cable me from Yokohama. You have knocked around the East enough to fit you for such business; this with your West Point training makes you the very man Oran- off needs.” For what business 1 had been fitted by following, two years before, a run- away Celectial army. might well be con- sidered a Chinese puzzle, yet such had my chief experience in the East beer During the Ja China war I had » aide to an American army offi- cer, Colone! French, detailed to study the Chinese campaign, and we had fol- lowed the Yellow Dragon throughout the inglorious retreat from Korea to Peking Lung we got back to Tu 1 ing, and if there had and Lungs between palpitating heart of the I doubt not we would - But the Ru rous but favorite Dove of Peace, put a stop to the war fear Japan would keep what he t Arthur, the Gibraitar of the ged that, Colonel French given points to a g herd of cattle—but what with a zy journey through hor made up the sum expi e in the golden st. t I had acquired a thing of which I did not know; it was the travel fever. Have you had that fever? If not, you escaped the most pitiless disease; knows when he contracts it never le Other fevers burn s out, or sauff ou not Thi down with the life light B : it fills the sufferer’s g dreams of quaint har- t quite, reached his e coolie chorus 4l but clearly he it fills his nostrils with the med of flower fetes he ever saw; it luring sugges- amiliar voices laughing d temple bells re beautiful than an; is brain wi odd he hears ne new trees, we shadow in the night; and, now and again, he sees.the battered prows of a ship come ’longside out of an unknown sea Other vers freeze at death’s touck es the travel fever? Some say yes, scme no, and many are silent inclosed,” the letter went name that vou will e note tes in my onel Oranoff in the cabin the midnigh Send it, and go to-night, lad. Cable me your resignation, and we will send another man to Tokio.” The sea was calm at eventide and the moon s bright. After the dancing Dulcine and ‘1 found our chai looked out happily upon the gliste wastes. If we were quiet now because the waves were gquiet bafling winds had left us all to peace We had prettily made our mutual con- fessioms, the burden of mine being that I was no sailor and could hot have read a steamer letter, though it ccntained will leaving me the steamship line for an inheritance. The lights danced high in Dulcine Oranoff’s large black eyes while we hinted of the days ahead 1 was & prised to find how fully t irl shared her serious father's confidences. Sh soon told me that their destination was Keinning, the old capital of Quelparte. “We are to settle Japan's and China's ncient quarrel for its possession,” I lunteered, looking at my watch, “Yes,” Dulcine answered me slowly. “In favor of neither?” “In favor of neither,” we arose. When, a few minutes 2 mitted to the caplain’s cabin, Colonel Oranoff welcomed me with genuine warmth to hig great table covered with a mass of papers and maps. For a time he spoke of my father, and I soon caught the drift of his reminiscences, in which he implied a great trust and confidence in me for my father’s sake. He could not have done this in a more charming indirect way, and it won me to him even more than anything my father had written. For a time then he remained silent, resting his palé face on his Hands, gazisg down upon the lit- tered table. A large map, oddly marked in red and white, hung on the wall near me and at once attracted my attention. The man at the table came to me at last, his ¢yeg also upon this map. “You are looking at Peter's map?” he asked. Then, without awaiting a re- ply, he continued, stroking it with the end of a pencil as he spoke. “Peter the Great made a will and bequeathed to Russia this eastern half of the world. The red,” and here the pencil swept swiftly from St. Petersburg to Korea, “shows the portion of our inheritance we have received; the white we have not yet obtained. “The will has been contested,” I com- mented, dryly enough, “And is still in litigation,” Oranoff answered suggestively. 1 was looking beyond Korea to Quelparte. “Quelparte is still white,” I said. The man looked at me one moment and un- derstood. “You have not danced all the evening,” he commented with a pleas- ant nod. Then he turned quickly to the map and his face grew stern as he an- v the girl replied 1 was ad- 4 MovD swered 'me: “But it will be red, Mar- tyn, before a single month has passed. The Czar has a razor for every beard; men talk of the power of Russian ar- mies, but they are nothing to the secret service men who are fast realizing Pe- ter's dream. The heavier the beard the sharper the razor—and the rule works both-wvays, even while Czars come and go. That dr n is still president.” There was fire in the words and the man uncopsciously raised a hand as he spoke’ them as though swearing a holy oath. I was thrilled. How that old dream does live on!— aye, and will live while most dreams are dead ind forgotten. Peter left the Eastern Continent to Russia. If* this was not the first it was the greatest will ever broken. By some cruel mockery of fate Russia has come-into the possessiop of the greatest but least desirable portion of its inheritance, the deserts of Asia and Siberia; but Eurgpe and India, Persia and China are, for some reason, still unconquered. My thoughts ran back to Quelparte. “There is a razor, then, for the King of Quelparte?” “For this reason,” said Oranoff, com- ing close to me; “we are about to lease Port Arthur from China; that will make Japan wild. I am to go and con- quer Quelparte with gold rubles—the King and his nobles; when that is done”— the man threw his hands apart quickly and looked at me. “Throw Quelparte over as a sop to Japan to avert war and—" “And keep .Port Arthur,” said Oran- off, sinking into his chair, evidently satisfied with me. The wind was rising and as the prow of. our ship. pounded into the trough of the sea the great red and white map floated lazily out from its anchorage on the wall, . “It s growing rougher,” said Colonel Oranoff at lakt, rising to tighten 'an in- candescent globe on his table. I won- dered that he could s0 quickly come back to the present, “Then if you fail” I ventured, my thoughts still running fast to the end of the chapter, “little is lost, since the conquest of Quelparte is only to be a tempotary triumph.” “Fail!” he repeated in a gentle.tone. “Those razors are not sharpened on failures,” and: Oranoff looked at me smiling. He had the patience of a true teacher: <5 A little nettled at myself, I lay gaz- ing upon that blood-red map, and soon the color made me think of war, and I found myself talking again to that si- lent man. - s “You cannot fear a war with Japan, Cclonel Oranoff?” ‘“‘Peace s gurer,” he answered quietly. Then looking at the map he continued: “We have gained much more by peace than by war—more than Caesar or Alexander or Napoleon ever gained in war,” and the tiréd voice seemed to strengthen on the boast. ‘““‘“Peace hath its victories,"” I quoted with solemn triteness. “But they cost toc,” interrupted Oranoff, “cost more than those of war; our wars cost the Czar the lives of thousands of his lowliest—peace the lives of hundreds of his best; war takes muscle—peace, brains. Does the Czar gain or lose?” ‘‘He gains the dream,” I-suggested, and the tired man sighed’“Amen.” 7 wNte The night's conference ended with the story of Menin. I had risen to take my leave when Oranoff drew me to the ta- ble and displayed a photograph of him- self he had taken thoughtfully from the recesses of a cabinet drawer. “You spoke of failure,” he said, and then tossed this picture angrily on the table, “A good likeness,” I observed; the poise of body and head, the coat and hat, the black imperial, were all life- like. An oath burst from the white lips. Startled, I looked more intently, and Oranoff's pencil pointed te¢ the should- ers; I saw that one was lower than the other. ““The hell hound can’t help that,” he whispered fiercely. “Then it is an impostor?” I cried. “My only failure,” said Oranoff, slow- ly, “was due to this dare-devil's cun- ning. I happened to cross Lis plans in Bangkok and he played hell with me in Herat. Look at him sharply, Martyn, and swear you will know me when I carry my shoulders like that.” “You fear him still?” 3 o “Aye—and you would, too, could you know him.” I looked intently at the picture as Oranoff held it out to me as he might have held out to a bloodhound the gar- ments of an escaped prisoner before starting it on the trail. = Presently I WID EZFTH, 7443 (o)/g 4 (@) WAS csVa‘Pfij}‘;’.D D A ONS 72005 V7755 could know and unders:ood well enough that I was to be, for the affirmed that' 1 shoulders anywhere, those present, at least, the bodyguard of Colonel Ivan Oranoff. The contest for Quelparte, after all, might be, perhaps, a thing for this Menin and me to fight out! “‘At least I shall be kept near Colonel Oranoff, and that means near Dulcine,” I thought with a pleasure not in the least marred by my knowledge that I was to guard a man engaged in a busi- ness not apt to'make him loved—the reddening of Peter’'s map. CHAPTER IIL A LESSON EASILY LEARNED. Two weeks after I parted from the Oranoffs at Yokohama my little steam- 3 er brecught me to Tsi, the seaport of Quelparte. I was rescued from the coolie-in- fested wharves by a gruff old Captain Dejneff, who came down from the capi- tal with Miss Oranoff to meet me, Soon we were off for Keinning, twenty miles inland. A clear, sweet day of the matchless month of November lay upon the Land of Morning Calm. Such is the native name, preserved by courtesy, of a land which has known only centuries of op- pression by China or Japan since long before the birth of Christ. But the mornings have remained true to the name—in inverse ratio to history’s de- flange of it. The battle-ground of the nations each side of it, the wanton spoil of conquerors from all sides, Quel- parte has been the ‘‘dark and bloody ground” of Asia, and nowhere has the fate and doom of a nation so plainly affected its people. The Quelpartiens, great, stalwart men, each a king in stature and mien, are weak, resistless, hopeless; yvet, withal, a saberly happy race which loves the helpless land as though pitylng it for having no stancher friends. Dulcine was jubilant with the en- thusiasm of a new-comer to these old plains and hills. The strange, white dress of the natives, the multicolored clothing of the children, the long, ten- der vistas acrcss the paddy-fields, the dim blue of the distant mountains, ap- pealed with freshening charm to her happy eyes. The contrasts, which in Quelparte must attract all visitors, fas- cinated her. “They do everything backward here,” she was already laughing out to me; “the boys braid their hair down their backs and the men do it up on their heads; the fires are built under the floors and the chimneys open into the gutters; is that a new adaptation of your Russian stoves, Captain Dejneftf?” This gruff old officer, whose face was buried under a great sandy beard, took not unkindly to Miss Oranoff's running fire of bantering quips. Yet my experience among men made me look twice at him; he had an odd predilec- tion for bumming old songs, and he locked at the plains as though they had told him some of their strange secrets. Dejneff had been connected with the Russian Legation here for many years; he was somewhat forgotting the outside world—being slowly embalmed alive in the traditions and superstitions of-this strange land. Thie Dulcine was discovering, with- out comprehending its real intent. “See,” she cried to me, as we were passing e little cluster of straw- thatched huts in a sequestered vale, “the only children in the world who do not play on a doorstep!” We had suddenly flushed a covey of little people, who ran helter-skelter into the nearest huts and peeped out at us from the dark interiors. “Do you also fear the devil of the threslhald, Captain Dejneff?” The low-hummed song was choked as the great square shoulders came up in a shrug. “Oh, 1 don’t know,” he replied, “why not? If there is one—peste!—it's better to look out, I think. Did not. the Ro- mans carry brides over them?” A peo- ple of ten millions and not one who dares to stand or sit on the threshold for fear of the devil there! As I recalled the superstition in the light of Dejneff’s attitude I thought of the draughts in a doorway. Were they the devil? A flock of wild geese flew suddenly up from a paddy-fleld and went way- wardly circling in the thin blue air toward the dfstant mountains. “There goes my Widowed Wild Goose, Captain Dejneff,” cried Dulcine; *“'give me the melody, and Lieutepant Martyn shall see I have not wasted my time in Keinning.” The old man hummed a little louder, but as Dulcine caught the measure he stopped quickly and listened to the girl's clear notes in the Quelpartien love song: 4 Silvery moon and frosty air, Eve and dawn are meeting Widowed wild goose fiying there, Hear my words of greeting! On_your journey should yqu see Him I love so broken-hearted Kindly gay this word for me, That 'tis death when we are parted. Flapping off, the wild goose clar Says she will if she remembers Farewell's a fire that burns one's heart, And tears .are rains quench In J But then the winds blow in one’s sig And cause the flames again to ris My soul T've mixed up with the wine, And now my love Is drjnking— Into his orifices nine Deep down its spirit's sinking. To keep him true to me and mine, A potent mixturg is the wine! Fill the ink-stome. bring the water, To my love I'll write a letter; ink apd paper soon will see The one that's all the world to me. While the pen and I together, Left behind, condole each othier. The sky and plains made a perfect setting for the song, 50 sad and yet throbbing with human experience. One must be impressed with the weird songs of the East, bearing so lightly and everlastingly their heavy loads of care. But does this burden differ from the burden of our own pop- ular music? I recalled the street songs of America prevalent.at the time. What a load of sorrow, regret, hopeless con- trition, this mongrel music voices! Are the world's songs all sad, and are our Christian hymns of hope and trust and faith our only happy music? Old Dejneff was interesting Dulcine in the women of this poor land, some of whom we met—veiled, unveiled, smiling in the chairs in which they were carried by hurrying coolies, or weeping under weary loads. Up to the age of 10 or 12 the little Quelpartienne of good family enjoys great freedom, and can play in the yard with her brothers and see whom she wishes, but the time comes when she must never be seen without the chang- ot, or sleeved apron over her head and held close about the face. From that time she remains mostly within doors and can be familiarly seen only by the people of the household and the nearer relatives. This. stage of her life is short, for she generally marries young and goes to take her place in the family of her husband, who will be found liv- ing with his parents. From that time on she can be seen and conversed with face to face only by her husband, fath- er, father-in-law, uncle, cousin, second cousin, etc, down to what the Quel- partiens call the “eight point,” which means the relationship existing be- tween two great-great-grandsons of a man through different branches. This means something like fourth or fifth cousins in America. It will at once ap- pear that a Quelpartienne is not en- tirely cut off from soslal intercourse with men, for in a country where fami- lies are so Jarge as in Quelparte the men on both gides of a family within the limits prescribed may number any- where from twenty to a couple of hun- dreds. Of course, grandfathers and great-grandfathers and great-uncles are also among the fovored ones, al- though their number is naturally lim- ited. But as a rule none of these male relatives will enter the inner part of a house, or woman's quarters, except on the invitation of the husband, and gen- erally in his presence. To all this, and much more, Dulcine listened with rapt interest, though in- terrupting her grave companion often with merry peals of laughter. What particularly interested me was the amused interest this Dejneff took in the strange customs of the people, while at the same time he turned out to be signdlly superstitious regarding their superstitions. Other things being equal (if they ever are), a superstition is a thing one man believes that an- other does not.. Yet there was a philo- sophy in Dejneff’s orientalism that im- pressed me. He sought deeply for rea- sons in all their fanaticisms. For in- stance, as he and I were discussing the Japan-China war, over our lunch at a little Japanese inn at Oricle, Dulcine = ApcrEs BUTLER * | HULBERT - - swamped our sober efforts at the men- tion of the battle of Pingyans. “The eity of Pingyang, Robert said to be situated in a boat, and no in- habitant dares to dig 2 well within the ity wall for fear of scuttling the at!” We looked thoughtfuily, is cit b to Dejneff, whuo -said “Ard they bring water I do think.” the boat all ed. the the way, no legend, of course, “You Captain Dejneff?” The square should- ers came up. d the growl was deeper in meaning, even, than in tone: “It's not the only vile city on a beat named Cholera and they are scuttled by the thousands who do not drink wa- ter brought from without.” And was this reckless philosophy? In civilized communities are we not com- ing to know that our great cities are on boats, and are not millions lost each twelvemonth who do not drink water brought from afar? But s at the house of the ti- ger woman that Dulcine lost all hope of shaking old Dejneff's sober conceptions of these foolish myths. This was once a little hut beside the worn path to Keinning, now it is only a great heap of stones. It is a Quelpartien belief that if an animal drinks water which has stood for twenty years in a human skull it will change futo a human being. The story goes that a youth once loved a maid whose parents dwelt in this buried hut. But while betrothed to her, which means more in some countries than in others, he became enamored of another maiden in Keinning and a wed- ding with her was set. With brazen face the youth came one day to give Erlane a last traitor’s kiss. Her pa- rents were overjoyed at the return of the forgetful lover, but the girl sat trembling on her mat—for a crane by the river had told her all. When the lad took Erlane in his arms, her hands held him tight and still more tightly, her sweet form changed contour be- neath his caresses, her clothing fell from her, while to cover her blushes, a tawny, mottled fur closed over her face —and a tigress sucked the -faithless lover’s life blood and left him dead. We went on in silence (after each of the coolies had cast his stone upon the »wing monument), the shock of su- perstition heavy on us all. The coolies had uttered fierce words as they hurled their stones, and this brought out Dul- ion, though she was si- ace and mocked old ff no lon “What do the coelies ¢ry when they throw their stones, captain?” “When women throw they ery, ‘A tiger for each traitor;” the men, ‘A tiger for each broken vow.” Does that superstition work good or {ll, think you?” Nearer and nearer drew the ragged peaks of the mountains which lie about Keinning. Our day bade fair to end a little soberly, and I wondered if it was not all a stern lesson Dejneff had been nt to teach me early—a lesson he emed to have learned well in all these ; thoughts ran on to the game playing between those moun- crests. Was the King of Qui tain parte being shaved easily? Or was his beard of tougher fiber than had been anticipated? knew Whatever the beard, I the “razor” was keen! old Dejneff took occasion to gthen his gloomy triumph over our A great hillside on the irts of the city was covered with mounds of earth. The sentinels little stationed there were paid by the rela- tives of the dead; for, Dejneff told me, it was a myth of Quelparte that if a grave was harmed all relatives of the desecrated corpse became insane. ‘Rifling graves becomes a new way to pay off old scores,” he said at the close, suggestively. “But does the legend come true?” I asked. “Often,” he answered quickly. “When the sacrilege becomes known they think they are going crazy, so they go; and it's all the same to mse what makes them, I think.” I know of no city, which the average globe-trotter visits, more alive with the tales of dead centuries than this gray old Keinning, which most ignore: As we went swaying through the great gate of the wall the grinning clay mon- keys on the roof, placed there to keep the devils out, made no cry. Dejnéff’s chair was near mine as we went through. “Dejneft,” I asked quietly, that Dul- cine might not hear, “do you who live here really believe the old legends of this land?” The low, weird monotone he was humming ceased and he turned stolidly upon me: “No, Martyn, we don't; but you fol- low our line and you won't get off far; we act as though we did.” i:ea CHAPTER IV. ¥ " THE SECRET OF LYNX ISLAND. The first impression of the capital of Quelparte will be the most lasting im- pression, however long may be the stranger’s stay. He may learn the great wide avenues, the little twisting streets, the palaces old and new, the great gates of the cily wall, and even the mountains round about—but to the city he will be a stranger still. The spirit of that valley, caught up slowly in centuries of time, is never really felt by the temporary sojourner; at least after a busy month with Oranoff here 1 felt when 1 gazed out from-the plaza of the Russian Legation over that sea of roofs that I was no less a perfect stranger than when I first saw Kein- ning. It was nothing that Dulcine Oran- off and I had folowed that great city wall ten miles in circumference, or that from the highest peaks of the “Silk Worm's Head” we had looked for hours upon this old relic of other centuries. Our happy companionship was real— aye, fast deepening; the mellow au- tumn lights aslant, the blue mountain sides were real—these imtangible things could be seen and felt; but old Keinning lay deep in a revery, uot a syllable of which could be caught and held. Its white people were ghosts, and all their beliefs and traditions were ghoulish mysteries. Such was the general setting of the piece! As for its development, even the sober Oranoff seemed satisfled; each act, carefully planned, went through