The Adventures of Dick Maitland: A Tale of Unknown Africa

Harry Collingwood

"The Adventures of Dick Maitland"

Chapter One.

The Catastrophe.

Doctor Julian Humphreys was spoken of by those who believed that they knew him best as an eccentric; because, being a physician and surgeon of quite unusual ability, he chose—possessing a small independence amounting to a bare three hundred pounds per annum—to establish himself in the East-End of London, and there devote himself with zeal and enthusiasm to the amelioration of the sufferings of the very poor, instead of capitalising his income and setting up in Harley Street, where his exceptional qualifications would speedily and inevitably have brought him a handsome fortune.

An income of three hundred pounds per annum—out of which one has to feed, clothe, and house oneself—does not afford very much scope for the practice of philanthropy, as Dr Humphreys very well knew; his establishment, therefore, was of very modest dimensions, consisting merely of three rooms with the usual domestic offices, one room—the front and largest one—being fitted up as surgery, dispensary, and consulting room, while, of the other two, one served as a sleeping apartment for himself and his pupil, Mr Richard Maitland, the third being sacred to Polly Nevis, a sturdy and willing, but somewhat untidy person, who discharged the united functions of parlour maid, housemaid, chamber maid, cook, and scullery maid to the establishment.

The large red lamp which shone over Dr Humphreys’ door at night was the one and only picturesque feature of Paradise Street—surely so named by an individual of singularly caustic and sardonic humour, for anything less suggestive of the delights of Paradise than the squalid and malodorous street so named it would indeed be difficult to conceive—and in the course of the four years during which it had been in position that lamp had become a familiar object to every man, woman, and child within a radius of at least a mile; for the Doctor’s fame had soon spread, and his clientele comprised practically everybody within that radius.

The apparently insignificant event that initiated the extraordinary series of adventures, of which this is the narrative, occurred about the hour of 8 a.m. on a certain day of September in the year of our Lord 19—; and it consisted in the delivery by the postman of a letter addressed to Mr Richard Maitland, care of Dr J. Humphreys, 19 Paradise Street, Whitechapel, E. The letter was addressed in the well-known handwriting of Dick’s mother; but the recipient did not immediately open it, for he was at the moment engaged in assisting the Doctor to dress and bind up the wounds of Mrs William Taylor, whose husband, having returned home furiously drunk upon the closing of the public houses on the previous night, had proceeded to vent his spleen upon his long-suffering wife, because, having no money and nothing that she could pawn, she had failed to have a hot supper ready for him upon his arrival.

When, however, Mrs Taylor, scarcely recognisable because of the voluminous bandages that swathed her head and face, and carrying with her a powerful odour of iodoform, was bowed out of the surgery by Dr Humphreys, with a reminder—in reply to a murmur that she had no money just then—that she was one of his free patients, and a message from the Doctor to Mr William Taylor, which the poor woman had not the remotest intention to deliver, Dick drew his mother’s letter from his pocket and opened it. As he mastered its contents he went white to the lips, as well he might; for this is what he read:

The Cedars, 14 South Hill, Sydenham.

September 10th, 19—.

“My dear Dick,—

“I am sorry to be obliged to call you away from your work, but I must ask you to please come home to me as soon as you can possibly get away, for I have just received news of so disastrous a character that I dare not put it upon paper. Besides, I am so distracted that I scarcely know what I am writing, as you will no doubt understand when I tell you that we are ruined—absolutely and irretrievably ruined! Come as soon as you can, my dear, for I feel as though I shall go out of my senses if I cannot soon have someone to counsel me as to what is the best thing to be done under these dreadful circumstances.

“Your loving but distracted mother,—

“Edith Maitland.”

“Hillo, Dick! what’s the matter?” exclaimed the Doctor, catching a glimpse of his assistant’s drawn face and pallid lips as Maitland stared incredulously at the letter in his hand. “Nothing wrong, I hope. You look as though you had just seen a ghost!”

“So I have; the ghosts of—many things,” answered Dick. “Unless this letter is—but no, it is the dear Mater’s own handwriting beyond a doubt. Read it, Doctor; there are no secrets in it.” And Dick passed the letter over to Humphreys.

“Phew!” whistled the Doctor, when he had read the letter twice—from the date to the signature; “that sounds pretty bad. You had better be off at once, and get at the rights of the thing. And when you have done so— By the way, have you any friends with whom you can consult, should you need help or advice of any sort?”

“Not a soul in the world, so far as I know, unless I may call you a friend, Doctor,” answered Dick. “Of course there is Cuthbertson, the family solicitor and the sole executor of my father’s will; but the suggestion conveyed by this letter from my mother is that something has somehow gone wrong with him, and he may not be available.”

“Quite so; he may not, as you say,” agreed the Doctor. “In that case, my dear Dick, come back to me after you have become acquainted with all the facts, and we will discuss the matter together. That you may call me your friend goes without saying, as you ought to know by this time; and although I am only an obscure East-End practitioner I am not wholly without friends able and willing to do me, or any friend of mine, a good turn, if necessary. So come back here when you have threshed out the matter, and we will see what—if anything—can be done.”

“Right! I will. And a thousand thanks to you for this fresh evidence of your kindly feeling toward me,” exclaimed Dick, grasping the doctor’s hand. “Are you quite sure that you will be able to get along without me for a few hours?”

“Absolutely certain,” was the cheery reply. “You are a very clever young fellow, Dick, and have proved a marvellously apt pupil since you have been with me, but I managed this practice single-handed before you came to me, and I have no doubt I can do it again, if needs be. So be off with you at once, my lad; for your mother seems to be in sore need of you.”

Five minutes later Dick Maitland had boarded a tramcar, on his way to London Bridge railway station, from whence he took train for the Crystal Palace, the nearest station to his mother’s home, which he reached within two hours of his departure from Number 19 Paradise Street.

Now, as Dick Maitland happens to be the hero of this story it is necessary he should be properly introduced to the reader, and this seems as appropriate a moment as any.

To begin with, then, when we caught our first glimpse of him, assisting Dr Humphreys to dress and bind up those tokens of affection which Mr William Taylor had bestowed upon his wife, Dick Maitland was within three months of his eighteenth birthday, a fine, tall, fairly good-looking, and athletic specimen of the young public-school twentieth-century Englishman. He was an only son; and his mother was a widow, her husband having died when Dick was a sturdy little toddler a trifle over three years of age. Mrs Maitland had been left quite comfortably off, her husband having accumulated a sufficient sum to bring her in an income of close upon seven hundred pounds per annum. The provisions of Mr Maitland’s will stipulated that the income arising from his carefully chosen investments was to be enjoyed by his widow during her lifetime, subject to the proper maintenance and education of their only son, Dick; and upon the demise of Mrs Maitland the capital was to go to Dick, to be employed by the latter as he might deem fit. But a clause in the will stipulated that at the close of his school career Dick was to be put to such business or profession as the lad might choose, Mr Maitland pithily remarking that he did not believe in drones. But since Mrs Maitland, although a most excellent woman in every respect, had no head for business, her husband appointed honest old John Cuthbertson, his own and his father’s solicitor, sole executor of his will; and so died happily, in the full conviction that he had done everything that was humanly possible to assure the future welfare of his widow and infant son. And faithfully had John Cuthbertson discharged his trust, until in the fullness of years he had laid down the burden of life, and his son Jonas had come to reign in the office in his father’s stead. This event had occurred some three years previously, about the time when Dick, having completed his school life, had elected to take up the study of medicine and surgery.

This important step had involved many interviews between Mrs Maitland and “Mr Jonas”, as the clerks in his father’s office had learned to call him; for the said Mr Jonas had succeeded to the executorship of many wills—Mr Maitland’s among them—as well as the other portions of his father’s business; and so great had been the zeal and interest that he had displayed during the necessary negotiations, that Mrs Maitland had been most favourably impressed. Indeed Jonas Cuthbertson had honestly earned the very high opinion that Mrs Maitland had formed of him, displaying not only interest and zeal but also a considerable amount of acumen in the matter of Dick’s placing. For, when Mrs Maitland, perhaps very naturally, expressed the wish that Dick should begin his studies under the guidance of some eminent Harley Street specialist, the solicitor strenuously opposed the idea, not only upon the score of expense, but also because, as he argued, Dick would certainly acquire a wider knowledge of diseases and their cure—and acquire it much more quickly—under some hard-working practitioner among the East-End poor of London; and that, as he very truly pointed out, was the great desideratum in such a case as Dick’s, far outweighing the extra hard work and the sordid surroundings to which Mrs Maitland had at first so strenuously objected. Moreover, Dick agreed with the solicitor; and in the end the maternal objections were overcome, careful enquiries were instituted, and finally Dick found himself installed as a pupil in the somewhat Bohemian establishment of Doctor Julian Humphreys, M.D., M.R.C.P., M.R.C.S., and several other letters of the alphabet. And, queer though the arrangement was in many respects, it proved eminently satisfactory to Dick; for Dr Humphreys was not only an extraordinarily able physician and surgeon, but also marvellously clever and learned outside the bounds of his profession, gentle and tender-hearted as a woman, and a thoroughly good fellow all round, in the best and highest sense of the term. As for Dick, he displayed from the outset a quite exceptional aptitude for the noble profession which he had chosen; study, instead of being irksome, was a pleasure—almost a passion—with him; his nerves were steel, he never for a moment lost his head even when assisting at the most sickening operation; his touch was light and sure; and knowledge seemed to come to him intuitively. No wonder that Doctor Humphreys persistently predicted a brilliant and successful career for his pupil.

Upon his arrival home Dick found his mother in such an acute state of distress that for the first few moments of their interview she seemed to be quite incapable of making any intelligible statement: she could do nothing but weep copiously upon her stalwart son’s shoulder and gasp that they were ruined—utterly and irretrievably ruined! At length, however, the lad managed to extract from Mrs Maitland the statement that she had seen, in the previous morning’s papers, an account of the suicide of Mr Jonas Cuthbertson, a solicitor; and, judging from the name and other particulars given in the published account, that it must be their Mr Cuthbertson, she had hurried up to town and called at Cuthbertson’s chambers, where her worst apprehensions had received complete and terrible confirmation. From the particulars supplied by Mr Herbert, Cuthbertson’s chief clerk, it appeared that “Mr Jonas”, after walking worthily in his father’s footsteps for two years, had become infected with the gambling craze, and, first losing all his own money, had finally laid hands upon as much of his clients’ property as he could obtain access to, until, his ill luck still pursuing him, he had lost that also, and then had sought to evade the consequences of his misdeeds by blowing out his brains with two shots from a revolver. This final act of folly had been perpetrated two days before the account of it in the papers had fallen under Mrs Maitland’s notice, and in the interim there had, of course, been time only to make a very cursory examination into the affairs of the suicide, but that examination had sufficed to reveal the appalling fact that every available security, both of his own and of his clients, had disappeared, while sufficient evidence had been discovered to show pretty clearly what had led to their disappearance.

This was the sum and substance of Mrs Maitland’s somewhat incoherently told story, and when Dick had heard it through to the end he had no reason to doubt its truth; but manifestly it was not at all the sort of story to be taken upon trust, it must be fully and completely investigated, if only for the purpose of ascertaining whether or not anything, however small, was to be saved from the wreck; accordingly, after partaking of a hasty lunch, young Maitland wended his way to the City, and there had a most discouraging interview with Mr Herbert, who was by this time busily engaged upon the preparation of a detailed statement of the position of affairs, for the information of his late employer’s clients and creditors. This, Mr Herbert explained, was proving a task of much less difficulty than he had anticipated, since Cuthbertson had apparently kept an accurate account of all his gambling transactions—some of which had, latterly, been upon a gigantic scale—with the evidently desperate resolution of recovering his former losses, or ruining himself in the attempt, while he had not destroyed any of his papers, as so many suicides do before perpetrating the final act of folly. The position of affairs, as outlined by Mr Herbert, was gloomy enough, but he made it clear to Dick that for the moment he was speaking with reserve, as it was impossible for him to say anything of an absolutely definite character until the investigation—which was being conducted with the aid of a firm of chartered accountants of high standing—should be complete.

Having now ascertained all in connection with the deplorable business that was for the moment possible, Dick returned to his mother and did his best to comfort and encourage her; but, as might have been expected, his efforts met with no very great measure of success, seeing that there was practically nothing of a comforting or encouraging character in the story told him by Jonas Cuthbertson’s chief clerk.

The next morning Dick Maitland returned to Number 19 Paradise Street, where he found his friend Humphreys as busily engaged as ever in his work of healing the sick and comforting the sorrowing poor, and received a welcome from the cheery, genial medico that seemed to ease his shoulders of at least half their load of anxiety. But it was not until well on towards evening that the claims upon the Doctor’s time and attention slackened sufficiently to afford an opportunity for Dick to tell his story, which, after all, was only an amplified edition of the story originally told in Mrs Maitland’s letter.

When at length the tale was fully told, and Humphreys had, by dint of much cross-questioning, fully mastered all its miserable details, he sat for half an hour or more, smoking diligently and silently as he considered in what way he could best help his young friend. At length, however, an idea seemed to occur to him, for he looked up and said:

“Well, Dick, my friend, it sounds about as bad as anything that I have heard of for many a long day! Why in the world did that fool of a lawyer want to meddle with gambling? Why could he not have been content to devote his energies to the conduct of the business—a first-class one, according to his chief clerk’s account—which his father left him, and which would have provided him with a very comfortable living all his days and, probably, a snug competency to retire upon when he found himself getting too old for work? I tell you what it is, my boy: this mad craving to get rich quickly is one of the great curses of these latter days. When it once gets a firm grip upon its victim it quickly converts the honest, upright man into a conscienceless rogue, who soon becomes the centre of a widespread circle of ruin and untold misery! Look at this fellow Cuthbertson. He had an honest and honourable father; and, as I understand you, was, to start with, himself perfectly honest and honourable; yet look at him now! What is he? Why, simply a dishonoured corpse, hastily huddled away into a suicide’s grave; a man who, having utterly spoiled his life, has presumptuously and prematurely hurried into the presence of his Maker, burdened not only with the heavy load of his own sin but also with the responsibility for all the ruin and misery which he has left behind him! Moralising, however, will not help you, my boy; for if I know anything at all about you it is that you are not the sort of character to make such a horrible mess of your life as that poor wretch has done. But now, the question is: What can I do to help you and your respected mother out of this slough into which another man’s weakness and sin have plunged you both? Not very much, I am afraid; for I cannot restore to you the property of which you are robbed. That appears to be gone beyond recall. But I can do this for you—and it may possibly help you a little—I can give you a letter of introduction to a man who is under very heavy obligations to me, and who—being a thoroughly good fellow—will be more than glad to discharge those obligations if I will only afford him the opportunity to do so. You shall go to him and give him full and complete particulars of this terrible misfortune that has befallen you; and if there is anything at all to be saved out of the wreckage, he will save it for you, without fee and without reward—for my sake. He, too, is a solicitor, but an honest one, as many still are, thank God; and it is a solicitor whose aid will be most useful to you in the unravelling of this tangled skein.”

“I say, Doctor, that is awfully good of you,” exclaimed Dick, struggling to conceal his emotion of gratitude, after the manner of the Englishman, but not altogether succeeding. “If the matter concerned myself alone,” he continued, “I would not let you do this thing for me; but I must think of my poor mother, and for her sake must humble my pride and suppress the assertion of my independence so far as to accept your help, so kindly and generously offered. And here let me say that there is no man on earth whose help I would so willingly accept as yours,” he blundered on, dimly conscious that there had been something of ungraciousness in his speech; and so stopped dead, overcome with shame and confusion.

“That is all right, my dear boy,” returned Humphreys, smilingly laying his hand on Dick’s shoulder; “I know exactly how you feel, and very heartily respect your sense of sturdy independence, which is very estimable in its way, so long as it is not carried too far. But, as a matter of fact, Dick, none of us is absolutely independent in this world, for almost every moment of our lives we are dependent upon somebody for assistance, in one shape or another, and it is not until that assistance is withheld that we are brought to realise the extent to which we are individually dependent upon our fellow creatures. But I am moralising again—a habit which seems to be growing upon me since I came among these poor folk down here, and have been brought face to face with such a vast amount of misery that can be directly traced to ignorance and crime. Just pass me over that stationery cabinet, will you? Thanks! Now I will write to my friend Graham at once, and you had better call upon him at his chambers in Lincoln’s Inn to-morrow morning at ten o’clock sharp, which is about the only hour of the day when you can be reasonably certain of finding him.”

When Dick called upon Humphreys’ friend Graham, upon the following morning, and sent in his letter of introduction, he soon had abundant evidence that the rising young solicitor was quite as busy a man as the Doctor had represented him to be; yet he was not too busy to respond promptly to his friend’s claim upon him, actually leaving an important-looking client waiting in his outer office while he interviewed Dick and listened with the utmost patience to the story which the latter had to tell, questioning him occasionally, and making notes of his answers upon a writing pad. At length, after an interview of over half an hour’s duration, Graham closed the pad sharply and, rising, extended his hand to Dick, saying:

“Thank you, Mr Maitland. I believe I have now all the essential facts; and you may assure my friend Humphreys that I will take up the case with the utmost pleasure, and without loss of time; also that I will do my best for you and your mother. From what you tell me I am inclined to imagine that the wreck of Cuthbertson’s affairs will prove to be pretty complete, therefore I very strongly advise you not to reckon upon my being able to save anything for you out of the wreckage; but if there should by any chance be anything, you shall have it. And now, good morning! I am very pleased to have made your acquaintance; and as soon as I have anything definite to communicate I will write to you. Remember me very kindly to Humphreys. Good morning!”

The interview was certainly not very encouraging; but on the other hand it was by no means disappointing; for Dick had already quite made up his mind that every penny of his mother’s money was lost. It was, therefore, a very pleasant surprise to him when, about a fortnight later, a letter came from Graham announcing that he had succeeded in rescuing close upon five hundred pounds for Mrs Maitland from the ruins of Cuthbertson’s estate, and that the good lady could have the money by presenting herself at the writer’s office and going through certain formalities.

Chapter Two.

Dick makes up his Mind.

It was late in the evening of the day upon which Mrs Maitland, having fulfilled the formalities required of her by Graham, had received from him a cheque for the sum of four hundred and eighty-seven pounds, seventeen shillings, and eightpence, which, apart from the house in which she lived, represented all that remained to her of the very comfortable fortune left to her by her late husband. Dick had escorted his mother up to town, and, upon the conclusion of the transaction, had taken her back to The Cedars; after which he had made the best of his way to 19 Paradise Street; for the moment had now arrived when he must come to an understanding with his friend Dr Julian Humphreys, and consult with him respecting the future. Ten o’clock had struck a few minutes ago, a belated patient had been attended to and dismissed, the surgery had been closed by the simple process of drawing down the blind and locking the outer door, and now the two friends were sitting opposite each other in that same drug-scented apartment, conversing earnestly together, as Humphreys pulled contemplatively, yet somewhat vexedly, at a brier pipe which had seen so much service that it was now charred down to about half its original size.

“The fact is,” remarked Dick, in continuance of their conversation, “that there is no other course open to me; for I am resolved that I will not touch a farthing of the money that your friend Graham has so cleverly rescued from the ruins of Cuthbertson’s estate; every stiver of it will be required for the maintenance of the poor Mater while I am away. And I must go away, because, as you yourself have admitted, there is no employment or occupation of any kind here at home to which, in my present condition of unpreparedness, I could turn my hand with any hope of earning a sufficient income to maintain her and myself, though ever so modestly; even if posts were to be had for the asking, which—in this country, at all events—they are not. You know that to be the plain, unvarnished truth, do you not?”

“Yes,” Humphreys answered unhesitatingly, “it is true—unfortunately.”

“Very well, then,” Dick resumed; “that being the case, the next question is: Where am I to go, and what am I to do, in order to earn enough money to maintain myself and my mother in the meantime, and eventually to restore her to that position of security of which she was robbed by that rascal Cuthbertson?”

“De mortuis nil nisi bonum!” reproved Humphreys gravely. “The poor chap has gone to answer for his sins, whatever they may have been, and there is an end of him, so far as you are concerned. To rail at him now, and speak of him disparagingly, will not hurt him, or do you any good, Dick, my friend, so do not unnecessarily bespatter his memory. This by the way. And now to return to our muttons. The problem that you propound is indeed a hard one to solve; to many it would probably appear an impossibility. But, although I am by no means an old man, I have been long enough in this world to have recognised that what many people deem impossibilities are nothing of the sort, if only one has the grit to face and tackle them. It is grit, my boy, that makes impossibilities possible, and I believe you possess that quality in sufficient measure to enable you to accomplish great things. The question is: What is the particular great thing which will meet your case? What is the work which you are best fitted to do? You are already very well up in the profession which you have chosen. There is many a man in successful practice to-day who knows less about it than you do; but, unfortunately, you are not yet ‘qualified’, therefore you cannot set up for yourself, even if you could afford the time to create a practice—which you cannot. And as to becoming an unqualified assistant, that of course is out of the question; the pay is altogether too poor to justify the entertainment of that idea. But there are countries where the restrictions are not nearly so great as they are in England; and there are others—beyond the pale of civilisation—where no restrictions at all exist, and where a clever man, with plenty of grit to back him up, might perhaps do remarkably well. Still, to penetrate to such countries a man must take his life in his hands, and, even then, all his courage may prove insufficient to save him from an unspeakable, horrible death. Now, what can you do besides doctoring?”

“Nothing that will help me in my present strait,” answered Maitland. “I can sail a boat, swim, ride, or drive a horse, and I can shoot straight; consequently if I possessed sufficient influence I might be able to get a job as groom, stableman, or even under-gamekeeper. But none of those things is good enough for me; I am capable of better things than grooming horses, cleaning harness, or looking after pheasants; I want employment that will bring me in good money, and I mean to have it too.”

“That’s right, Dick; that’s the way to talk,” returned Humphreys approvingly. “Modesty is all right, a very desirable and admirable quality in every young man’s character, and one which is seen far too seldom nowadays. Modesty, however, is one thing, and self-depreciation quite another. It is a mistake for anyone to underrate his own value, and, as you very truly say, you are capable of doing much better work than that needed in either of the occupations that you have named; therefore you are justified in insisting upon having it. A man has a perfect right to the very best and most profitable work he is capable of doing; but he must get it for himself; it is no use for him to sit down supinely and demand that Providence shall put it into his hands. The man who is worth his salt will get up and ‘hustle’—as the Americans tersely express it—and not rest until he has secured what he wants. Now, you, my boy, are very heavily handicapped. You have neither money nor influence to help you to what you want, therefore you will have to depend upon ‘hustle’ and grit alone; also you have no time to waste in looking about in this country for the kind of thing you want, which, even with all the ‘hustle’ and grit imaginable, may take you months, or even years, to find. No, as you said at the beginning of this conversation, you must go somewhere abroad to get what you want; and in a foreign land you may find even such despised accomplishments as riding, swimming, and straight shooting of the utmost value to you. But in my opinion your mainstay must be the medical and surgical knowledge which you have acquired. Now, whereabout on the face of this old globe of ours are you likely to be able to employ your knowledge to the best and most profitable account? It should be where wealth is abundant, and where medical and surgical skill is pretty frequently in demand, also where there is plenty of scope for a young fellow who, like yourself, is imbued with the spirit of adventure. Now, let me consider for a moment—where is the country which most nearly answers to these conditions? What do you say to South Africa? It is the land of gold and diamonds; it is not, I believe, overrun with medical men; and as to adventure—” Humphreys shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands abroad expressively.

Dick’s eyes sparkled and his face lit up with enthusiasm.

“South Africa is the place for me, without a doubt,” he exclaimed with animation. “It is, as you say, rich; it is also a land of unbounded possibilities; and— But how am I to get there? The passage money amounts to something considerable, and I have no money to spare for that sort of thing; also, as I have said, I will not take a penny from the Mater.”

“What about borrowing?” suggested Humphreys. “As you know, Dick, I am not a rich man, but I have no doubt I could manage to—”

“No!” interrupted Dick emphatically; “a thousand times no. It is like you, Doctor, to offer to help me out of your own exceedingly limited means, and I am more grateful to you than I have words to express; but I simply will not avail myself of your kindness, or that of anybody else indeed, for I should be starting with a millstone of debt hanging round my neck. No, I have thought of a better way than that; I will work my passage out.”

“Work your passage out!” ejaculated the Doctor, staggered, in spite of his whole-hearted belief in the virtues of self-help, at this bold suggestion on Dick’s part. “In what capacity, pray?”

“Oh, as anything!” returned Dick buoyantly; “as ordinary seaman, cook’s mate, stoker—what does it matter? I will find a way, never fear. I’ll take a trot round the docks to-morrow, and it will be strange indeed if I cannot somewhere find a market for my labour. Why, even the elementary knowledge of nautical matters that I have acquired in sailing my little single-handed cutter during holiday time will be of service to me. I can steer, I can box the compass, I know the name of every sail on a full-rigged ship; and I will guarantee that before I have been forty-eight hours out I will know the function of every bit of running rigging, and where to lay my hand upon it in the dark.”

“Ay, I’ll bet that you will, Dick,” answered Humphreys, with enthusiasm as great as Dick’s own. “And I have not much doubt as to your being able to get a berth as ordinary seaman; for you are a big strong fellow, and for mere pulling and hauling purposes any skipper ought to be glad to get hold of you. Yes, I think we may consider that part of your problem solved. But what about after your arrival in South Africa? How do you propose to proceed at the end of the voyage when you have safely landed? For you must remember that in all probability you will have no wages to draw; people who work their passages are usually shipped at the princely rate of pay of one shilling per month.”

“Yes, I know,” said Dick. “Still, I shall have reached the scene of my great endeavour without cost, and that is the important thing. After that I shall of course be obliged to trust to my own push and ‘hustle’, as you call it, for it is impossible to make any definite plans at this distance from the scene of operations.”

“Quite so,” agreed Humphreys. “And you must also remember that there is always the element of luck, or chance, or whatever you please to call it, in the background, and to be watched for. Opportunity often presents itself literally at a moment’s notice and in the most unexpected fashion, and the one who profits by it is he who is alert enough to seize it as it passes. But there is one thing you must do, Dick; you must take with you a well-stocked chest of drugs, as well as your case of surgical instruments; and, since you will not let me lend you any money to help you on your way, you must allow me to make you a present of that medicine chest just as a token of my appreciation of the way in which you have conducted yourself as my pupil— Nay, boy, you must not refuse me, for if you do I shall be deeply hurt as well as seriously offended.”

“Very well, then,” acquiesced Dick, “since you put it in that way, and so very strongly, I will accept your generous gift with a thousand most hearty thanks, not only for the gift itself, but also for the kindly feeling that prompts it.”

“My dear Dick,” protested Humphreys, “there is really no reason at all why you should feel so extraordinarily grateful, for in doing what I propose to do I shall only be very inadequately repaying you for much valuable assistance rendered, and much very pleasant companionship during the time of your pupilage with me. And do not think that because I have not expressed much voluble regret at this abrupt severance of our connection I do not feel it, for I do very keenly, I assure you; but I see quite clearly that the thing is inevitable, therefore to complain about it would be both useless and foolish.

“Now, there is one other way in which I can help you; and when I have explained to you how tremendous is the power which I propose to place in your hands you will understand, more clearly than I could show you in any other way, the absolute trust that I repose in you. For I tell you this, Dick, in all sincerity, there is not another person in the whole circle of my acquaintance—and it is pretty wide—whom I feel I could safely trust with this power, so potent is it for evil as well as good. But I am convinced that I can trust you; and that is why I have determined to endow you with the ability to perform deeds which to many people will seem positively miraculous.

“You have often expressed amazement at the uniform success which attends my treatment of even my most difficult cases, both medical and surgical, but especially the surgical; and I know, from the remarks you have made, that you attribute those successes purely to the extent of my knowledge. Well, of course, knowledge has something to do with it; but the true secret of my success lies in the free use which I make of hypnotism. Yes, no doubt you are surprised; for you have never seen me employ any of the well-known methods of the ordinary hypnotist. Very true. But my method is not the ordinary method at all; it is one which I claim as my own exclusive discovery, and it is as far in advance of ordinary hypnotism as that is in advance of the methods of the stage hypnotist.

“Almost at the outset of my professional career I directed my attention to the investigation of hypnotism, determined to ascertain whether or not there was anything in the claims set up by its exponents; and I soon discovered that there was something in it, despite the disrepute cast upon it by the grotesque performances of certain so-called entertainers. There is no need for me to detail to you the successive steps by which I at length attained my present knowledge of the marvellous powers of the science. Let it suffice me to say that by diligent study of it I eventually acquired such a mastery of it that it has enabled me to—well, to put it mildly—succeed where but for it I must have failed. And a large measure of this success is due to the fact that I have discovered an infallible method of instantly hypnotising a patient without that patient’s knowledge. They are hypnotised, but they don’t know it; haven’t the remotest suspicion of it. Then I convey to them a powerful suggestion that my treatment of them is going to be absolutely successful, and—there you have the whole secret.”

Humphreys paused for a moment, as if considering whether or not he should say more; then he gazed abstractedly at his carefully kept finger nails, and his right hand wandered to his waistcoat pocket. Then, looking up, he extended the hand toward Dick, saying:

“Just lend me your penknife a moment, will you?”

Dick produced the knife and held it out to Humphreys, who looked at it, then shrank back.

“Good heavens, man,” he exclaimed, “I asked for a penknife, not for an adder! Where did you get that brute from?”

With an inarticulate cry, and an expression of unutterable disgust and loathing, Maitland dropped the penknife to the floor, and then stamped on it savagely, grinding the heel of his boot on it as though grinding the head of a snake into the ground.

“Why, Dick!” exclaimed Humphreys, looking his assistant square in the eye; “what are you doing? What has that good knife been doing to you that you should treat it in that barbarous manner?”

Maitland stared back blankly into the Doctor’s smiling eyes for a moment, then looked long at the penknife on the floor, and finally stooped and cautiously took it between his forefinger and thumb, eyeing it doubtfully the while. Then he suddenly sat down, pulled out his pocket handkerchief, and mopped off the perspiration that freely bedewed his face.

“Well, I’ll be shot!” he ejaculated. “What an extraordinary experience! Will you believe me, Doctor, when I tell you that as I drew this penknife out of my waistcoat pocket it actually seemed to change into an adder in my hand? There was the flat, wicked-looking head, the malevolent eyes, the characteristic markings of the body, and, above all, there was the feeling of it writhing strongly in my grasp, as though it were trying to get enough of its length clear to turn and strike me! Talk about Aaron’s rod and those of the old Egyptian necromancers turning into serpents! Why, I could have sworn that this knife of mine did precisely the same thing! Now, there is a problem for you, Doctor: What sort of mental aberration was it that caused me to imagine such an extraordinary thing as that, eh?”

“Simply, my dear boy, that I hypnotised you ‘unbeknownst’, so to speak, in illustration of what I have been telling you,” answered the Doctor, laying his hand upon Dick’s shoulder. “Hope I didn’t scare you very severely, eh?”

“N–o,” answered Dick slowly, “you did not actually scare me, Doctor; but you managed to give me such a thrill of horror and disgust as I have not experienced for many a long day. But, I say, do you really mean to tell me, in sober earnest, that that abominable experience was due to hypnotic suggestion on your part?”

“Yes, I do,” answered Humphreys. “I wanted to bring home to you in a very convincing manner the power which the hypnotist exercises over his subject. I could have done it even more convincingly, perhaps, by commanding you to take that perfectly cold poker in your hand, and then suggesting to you that it was red hot, when—despite the fact of the poker being cold—your hand would have been most painfully blistered. But probably the ‘adder’ experiment was convincing enough, eh?”

“It was indeed,” assented Dick with a little reminiscent shudder. “But look here, Doctor, you say that you hypnotised me. When did you do it? I didn’t see you do anything peculiar.”

“No, my boy, of course you didn’t, because I adopted my own especial method, which is instantaneous and undetectable, and which I will teach you if you care to learn it; for I seem to foresee that there may be occasions, by and by, when you get out to South Africa, when you may find the power extremely useful to you, particularly if you should get any medical or surgical work to do. In such a case just hypnotise your patient in the way that I will teach you, then powerfully suggest to him that your treatment is going to cure him—and it will do so. As to when I got you under my influence, it was done while I asked you to lend me your penknife.”

“By Jove!” exclaimed Dick; “it is marvellous, perfectly marvellous; and if I did not know you to be an absolutely truthful man I do not think I could bring myself to believe it. Now I can understand what you meant when you spoke of the potency of hypnotism for good or for evil, and why, as I understand, you have never yet dared to pass on the secret of your power to anyone else. But I swear to you, Doctor, that, if you will entrust it to me, I will never, under any circumstances whatsoever, use it except for a good purpose, nor will I ever pass on the secret to anyone else except with your express permission. And now that you have given me an idea of its capabilities I simply long to know the secret, for it seems to me that a chap with your powers could come very near to working miracles.”

“Yes,” assented Humphreys quietly, “that is so; indeed, even with my imperfect knowledge—for I have not yet nearly mastered all the possibilities of the science—I have done things that without its aid would have been impossible. And now, if you like, I will initiate you into the secret of my power, which is very simple after all, and which, once known, will enable you to do everything that I can do. First of all, however, I propose to throw you into a cataleptic sleep, in order that, while you are in that condition, I may imbue you with an absolute faith in yourself, without which everything that I can teach you would be practically useless, at least until you had acquired faith in yourself by the somewhat slow and laborious process which I had to pursue. I had to acquire faith in myself and my powers by repeated experiments extending over a period of several months; but you have not time for that, so I must imbue you with it by the process of suggestion while you are in a state of trance. Now, are you ready?”

“Yes, quite,” answered Dick, with a quick indrawing of the breath; for now that it came to the point he suddenly found that to submit himself unreservedly to the hands of even his friend Humphreys, for the purposes of an experiment that smacked rather strongly of the uncanny, was something of a nerve-trying experience. Humphreys evidently noted his momentary hesitation, for he said:

“You need not have the least fear; you will be profoundly unconscious during the period of sleep, and will awake without the slightest trace of any unpleasant feeling. Now, stretch yourself out comfortably on that sofa, and do exactly as I tell you.”

When Dick descended to the surgery, a few minutes late, the next morning, he found his friend Humphreys, with his coat off, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and his clothes protected by a white apron extending from his throat to the tops of his boots, busily engaged in dusting his bottles and the shelves whereon they stood.

As Dick entered, the Doctor, mounted upon a step ladder, looked down at him with a smile and nod of welcome, and said:

“Well, my boy, how did you sleep, and how do you feel after your ordeal of last night?”

Dick laughed joyously. “My ‘ordeal’!” he exclaimed. “I hope I may never have to undergo a more trying ordeal than that. I slept like a top, thank you, and feel as fit as a fiddle this morning, indeed I don’t know that I ever felt so fit in all my life before. But that is not all: I have not the remotest idea what mysterious thing you did to me last night, but this I know, that you have imparted to me a something that I have never hitherto possessed. I feel this morning a buoyancy of spirit that it seems to me no amount of disappointment could damp or lessen for a moment, and I have a belief in myself so complete, so boundless, that I feel I cannot help but be successful in this new venture of mine upon which I am about to embark.”

“Yes,” said Humphreys, nodding his head in a manner which very clearly expressed his satisfaction, “that is the result of your ‘ordeal’, and it will be quite permanent. Mind you, I don’t say that you will always feel quite so buoyant and confident as you do at this moment, for it is beyond the power of any man to make another absolutely immune to circumstances; but in spite of circumstances, however adverse, you will always retain some at least of your present buoyancy and confidence. I do not think you will ever sink into that condition of utter and abject despair which overwhelms some people and drives them to suicide. To change the subject. Are you still minded to go to the docks this morning in quest of a shipmaster benevolently enough inclined to allow you to work your passage out to South Africa?”

“Rather!” answered Dick. “That is to say, if you think you can spare me for a few hours.”

“Of course I can spare you,” answered Humphreys. “And I would advise you to go immediately after breakfast, for, as you know, ‘it is the early bird that catches the worm.’ But how do you propose to set about your quest? Not quite haphazard, I suppose?”

“No,” answered Dick. “I thought of getting the Shipping Gazette, and perhaps the Telegraphy and consulting their advertisement pages, with the view of learning what ships are on the berth for South African ports, where they are lying, and their date of sailing.”

“An excellent idea,” declared the Doctor. “As soon as Polly has put breakfast upon the table we will send her out to get the papers, and you can consult them and prepare a list of likely vessels before you go out.”

This was done; and by nine o’clock, Dick, having breakfasted, was ready to sally forth on the first stage of his journey in quest of fortune, duly armed with a slip of paper containing a list of some half-dozen ships loading for South Africa, “with quick dispatch.”

And two hours later he returned to the surgery, his visage beaming with satisfaction.

“Hurrah, Doctor!” he exclaimed, as he dashed in through the open doorway. “I’ve done the trick; got the skipper of the Concordia to allow me to work my passage out to Port Natal as ordinary seaman at a shilling a month. I ‘sign on’ at the shipping office the day after to-morrow, and have to be on board by eight o’clock the same evening in readiness to haul out of dock at daylight on the following morning.”

Chapter Three.

Before the Mast.

The remainder of Dick Maitland’s time in England was pretty fully occupied in comforting and encouraging his mother, in view of the pending separation, and in getting his somewhat slender wardrobe ready and packed for the voyage. The first-mentioned part of his task proved very much more difficult than the other, for Mrs Maitland was rather a helpless kind of person, and had already come to look to Dick for advice and help in every sort of difficulty, whether great or small; the prospect, therefore, of being henceforth obliged to look after herself and manage her affairs unaided filled her at first with dismay. Besides, there was the separation from her son, the feeling that she knew not whether she would ever again set eyes on him in this world, and the terrible uncertainty generally of the future, to further distract her; but at length the buoyancy and unquenchable hopefulness of Dick’s spirit had its effect upon her; and, finally, when the moment of parting came, she had been brought to a frame of mind that enabled her to say the last words of farewell almost with calmness. As for Dick, he had already received Humphreys’ assurance that he would keep in touch with Mrs Maitland, and see, in conjunction with his friend Graham, the solicitor, that she came to no harm; therefore he had few fears for her immediate future; while, for the rest, he was confident that before his mother’s little capital became exhausted he would have found means to replenish it. He spent with her the remainder of the day upon which he had interviewed the skipper of the Concordia, and practically the whole of that which succeeded it, finally bidding her farewell about six o’clock in the evening, in order that he might spend the remainder of the day with Humphreys, with whom he had still much of importance to discuss.

Upon Dick’s return to Number 19 Paradise Street he found the genial Doctor so busily engaged in dispensing drugs and advice that the two had time for little more than a mutual nod of greeting; but later on, when the last patient had departed and business had been brought to a close for the night, they sat down together for a chat over a cup of coffee and—so far as Humphreys was concerned—a pipe. Dick had not yet taken to tobacco, and Humphreys, although an inveterate smoker himself, so far from urging his young friend to adopt the habit, had strongly dissuaded him from having anything to do with the weed, at least until he had reached his twenty-first birthday, learnedly descanting upon the injurious effects of nicotine upon the immature constitution, and incidentally warning him to eschew narcotics generally, which, he insisted, were always injurious, and only to be resorted to, even medically, when it became a choice between a narcotic and some greater evil.

“Well, my boy,” remarked the Doctor, when they were at length comfortably settled in their respective chairs, “so you have parted with your mother. I hope you were able to cheer the poor lady and reconcile her to the separation. It is of course very hard upon her that at her time of life she should be left absolutely alone, but necessity is a pitiless jade, exacting her tribute of sorrow and suffering from all alike, from the monarch to the pauper, and when she lays her hand upon us there is no escape. But do not allow anxiety on behalf of your dear mother to worry you for a moment, lad, for I have promised to keep an eye upon her, and, as you know, I am a man of my word, and no harm shall befall her so long as I have the power to avert it. No, don’t thank me, Dick, there is no need; the satisfaction and pleasure that I shall derive from helping your dear mother will be reward enough for me, for I regard her as a personal friend, and shall consider it a privilege to be allowed to do all that I can for her.”

“And now, to pass on to another topic, let me show you the medicine chest which I intend shall be my parting gift to you. Here it is,”—producing a stout case measuring about eighteen inches long by fourteen inches wide and twelve inches high. “It is not inconveniently bulky or heavy, but it contains a practically complete assortment of drugs, sufficient in quantity to enable you to fight successfully about half a dozen cases of almost every known disease. More than that it would be inconvenient to carry about with you; and when any particular drug shows signs of exhaustion you must take timely steps to replenish your supply. And, with reference to that same replenishment, you will find a little manuscript book, written by myself, containing full instructions in the art of preparing several of the drugs from their parent plants, which I believe you will find exceedingly useful.” Here Humphreys’ talk became professional and his speech surcharged with technicalities—for he was an enthusiast in everything relating to the combating and cure of disease, and far into the small hours he descanted learnedly upon his beloved science, confiding to and instructing Dick in many valuable secrets that, by dint of laborious research and much consumption of midnight oil, he had wrung from Dame Nature. And on many an occasion in the not-far-distant future Dick Maitland had ample cause to look back with gratitude upon that long midnight conversation.

With exemplary punctuality young Maitland presented himself at the shipping office at ten o’clock in the morning, and duly “signed on” as ordinary seaman in the good ship Concordia, bound for Natal; Mr Sutcliffe, the chief mate, privately congratulating Captain Roberts, the skipper of the ship, immediately afterwards, upon his good fortune in securing so “likely” a hand for the small sum of one shilling per month, and expressing his fixed determination to “make a man of him” before they reached the Line. At the private suggestion of the said chief mate, Dick lost no time in conveying his belongings to the ship and depositing his bedding in the best-sheltered bunk in the forecastle; after which he returned to Number 19 Paradise Street, where he spent the few hours of freedom remaining to him in assisting his friend the Doctor, and absorbing further knowledge from him. Finally, as the clocks in the immediate neighbourhood were striking the hour of eight in the evening, Dick stepped over the rail of the Concordia and formally reported himself to the chief mate, thereafter repairing to the forecastle and making his preparations for the night. He was the first hand to join the ship, notwithstanding the fact that the entire crew had been ordered to be on board not later than eight o’clock that evening; and it was not until close upon midnight that the remainder found their way down from the neighbouring public houses, all of them as surly and quarrelsome as bears at the termination of their short period of liberty. Fortunately for Dick, all hands were too far gone in drink to admit of their quarrelsomeness going further than words, and eventually, by about one o’clock in the morning, he was able to compose himself to sleep, to the accompaniment of the snores and mutterings of his companions—thirteen in number.

Many lads in Dick Maitland’s position, and brought up amid refined surroundings, as he had been, would have regarded with horror and loathing such a situation as that in which he now found himself, and would have been overwhelmed with self-pity at the cruelly hard luck which forced them to herd with such uncongenial companions in such a pig sty of a place as the Concordia’s forecastle just then presented; but Dick was something of a philosopher, and was, moreover, full of “grit”. He held the doctrine that a man can make what he chooses of his surroundings, and always find in them something of amusement or interest, if he cares to look for it; and now he consoled himself with the reminder that life in that forecastle, and among those men, whose highest ideal of happiness seemed to be helpless intoxication, would after all be but a brief experience, out of which it would be hard indeed if he could not learn some useful lesson. With this philosophic reflection, he curled himself up in his blankets and dropped into a sound, dreamless sleep.

At six o’clock next morning the mate came thundering upon the fore scuttle with a handspike, following up the resounding blows with a yell of:

“All hands ahoy! tumble up there, you sleepers, and don’t wait to curl your hair. Hurry up, now, and give me a chance to see who are the ‘smarties’ among you!”

With low growls of disgust at such rude and untimely disturbance of their slumbers the fourteen occupants of the forecastle rolled unwillingly out of their bunks and proceeded to scramble into their garments, most of them anathematising the sea life generally, and their present ship in particular. For forecastle Jack is a curious creature, and, if you are to believe him, “last voyage” is invariably the supreme period of his life, wherein has been crowded the utmost comfort and pleasure and the most remarkable adventures, while the ship on board which he happens to be at the moment is, as invariably, the slowest, ugliest, most uncomfortable, and most rotten tub that he ever had the ill luck to ship in. And all this, mind you, as likely as not before the much-maligned craft has passed out through the dock gates, or Jack has done a hand’s turn of work on board her. Dick listened with a good-tempered grin to the chorus of grumbling that was proceeding around him, interjected a merry jest or two which caused the growlers to stop in mid-career in amazement at his audacity, and then, having slipped nimbly into his clothes, he sprang up through the hatchway and presented himself first on deck of the forecastle hands, to be greeted by the mate with a cheery:

“Well done, youngster! First to answer the call. That comes of joining your ship with an unmuddled brain. I think you and I are going to get on well together.”

“I sincerely hope so, sir,” answered Dick. “If we don’t it shall not be my fault. And although I am rather an ignoramus at present in respect of a sailor’s work generally, you will find me both willing and eager to learn.”

The mate stared at Dick for a moment with compressed eyebrows, rather taken aback at the lad’s refined tone and manner of speech; then he nodded, and remarked gruffly:

“That’s all right; if you are willing to learn I’ll take care that you have the chance. And, as a starter, you may get a broom and sweep up all this litter. But don’t heave it overboard, or you’ll have the dock people after you. Sweep it all together and put it into that empty barrel until we get out of dock and can heave it over the side.”

The rest of the forecastle hands now came stumbling up on deck, and were set by the mate to various tasks, pending the opening of the dock gates and the arrival of the tug which was to tow the Concordia down the river. At length the order was given to unmoor ship, the dock gates swung open, the vessel was warped through the opening to where the tug awaited her, the towrope was passed, and presently the Concordia was heading down the river toward Gravesend, from whence, having first shipped her passengers, she was to take her final departure for the southern hemisphere.

The Concordia was a steel barque of eight hundred and seventy-four tons register, Clyde built, and modelled upon lines that combined a very fair cargo-carrying capacity with high speed possibilities. She was a very handsome vessel to look at, and Captain William Roberts, who had commanded her since she left the stocks some two years prior to the date at which we make his and her acquaintance, was inordinately proud of her, sparing no pains either to himself or his ship’s crew—and especially, his boatswain—to keep her as trim and neat as a man-o’-war. The decks were regularly holystoned every morning when the ship was at sea—to the intense disgust of the crew—the brasswork was as regularly polished, not with the usual rottenstone and oil, but with special metal polish provided out of the skipper’s private purse; and there was no more certain way of “putting the Old Man’s back up” than for a man to allow himself to be seen knocking the ashes of his pipe out against any portion of the ship’s painted work. It was even asserted of Captain Roberts that, so anxious was he to maintain the smart appearance of the ship, he would, whenever she ran into a calm, have the quarterboat lowered and manned, in order that he might pull round his vessel and assure himself that her masts were all accurately stayed to precisely the same angle of rake; and woe betide the unhappy boatswain if there seemed to be the slightest occasion for fault-finding.

The Concordia was a beamy ship in proportion to her length, and she carried a full poop extending forward to within about twenty feet of her mainmast, underneath which was a handsome saloon, or cuddy, fitted with berth accommodation for twenty passengers; for although the steam liners have, for all practical purposes, absorbed the passenger traffic, there still remains a small residue of the travelling public who, either for health or economy’s sake, choose a well-found, well-built sailing clipper when they desire to make a sea voyage.

Such was the vessel in which young Dick Maitland was to make his first, and, as he hoped, his only, essay as a seaman before the mast, and after the slight sketch which has been given of her and her skipper, it will be readily seen that he could scarcely have hit upon a craft where he would be likely to have more hard work, or better opportunities for the acquirement of a large measure of seafaring knowledge in a very short time.

Mr Sutcliffe, the chief mate, had been favourably impressed by Dick from the moment when the two had encountered each other at the shipping office, and Mr Sutcliffe’s method of showing his favour was to provide his favourites with an ample sufficiency of work to do. The ship had, therefore, not been out of dock half an hour when Dick was sent aloft with an able seaman named Barrett to get the fore and main royal-yards across; and so eager was the lad to learn as much as he could that Barrett very willingly permitted him to do all the work, merely directing him what to do and how to do it, and at the same time instructing him as to the nomenclature and purposes of the various parts of the gear which were manipulated during the operation. Naturally, Dick, being a novice, took about twice as long as his companion would have taken over the job; but so eager was he to learn and such aptitude did he exhibit that he won the unqualified approval of Barrett, as well as of Mr Sutcliffe, who had been keeping a sharp eye upon what was going on aloft. As for Dick, although it was the first time that he had ever been aloft in anything deserving the name of a ship, and although the hull upon which he looked down seemed ridiculously inadequate to support the lofty spar upon which he was working—suggesting the idea that unless he exercised the utmost caution in the disposition of his weight he must inevitably capsize the entire complicated structure—he felt neither giddy nor nervous, but went about his work with all the coolness and confidence of a thoroughly seasoned hand.

Arrived off Gravesend, the anchor was let go, and the ship swung to the now fast ebbing tide, the quarterboat was lowered, and the skipper was rowed ashore, while Mr Sutcliffe went the rounds of the decks and satisfied himself that everything had been done to make the Concordia perfectly ready to get under way at a moment’s notice; the yards were accurately squared by the lifts and braces, the running gear hauled taut and neatly coiled down, the decks once more swept; and then the worthy mate found himself compelled to admit, with a sigh, that nothing more could be done, at least to advantage, until the passengers should have come off and the ship be once more under way. These two events happened late in the afternoon, and meanwhile the occupants of the forecastle were sent below to snatch a few hours’ rest in preparation for the coming night, during which Dick Maitland had an opportunity to become better acquainted with his messmates. For a wonder these proved to be without exception British, consisting of two Irishmen, five Scotchmen, and one Welshman, while the rest were English. There was nothing very remarkable about any of them, they were all just ordinary average sailormen, but it did not take Dick very long to make up his mind that, with the possible exception of the carpenter, and Barrett, the A.B. who had been his companion and instructor aloft during the morning, the five Scotchmen were the pick of the bunch. But all hands seemed to be very decent fellows in their own rough way, now that they had had time to recover from their previous day’s debauch, and manifested a distinct disposition to be friendly toward the young greenhorn whom they found in their midst, especially as they had already had an opportunity to see that the greenhorn’s greenness was not of such a character as to entail upon them very much extra work.

The afternoon was well advanced when at length the passengers, seventeen in number, came off to the ship; and the moment that they and their baggage were embarked the anchor was hove up, the tug once more came alongside and took the towrope, and the Concordia proceeded upon her voyage, the hope being freely expressed, both fore and aft, that there would be no more anchoring until the ship should have arrived under the shadow, so to speak, of Natal Bluff. As soon as the ship was fairly under way, and the anchor at the cathead, the chief and second mates picked the watches, and Dick, to his satisfaction, found himself picked by Mr Sutcliffe as a member of that officer’s watch.

As the ship drew down toward the lower reaches of the river she met a slight breeze breathing out from the north-east, to which she spread, first, her fore-and-aft canvas, and, later on, her square sails, so that by the time of her arrival off Deal, near midnight, she was practically independent of the tug, which at that point cast her off. Here also the pilot left her, taking with him a goodly packet of letters from the passengers to their friends ashore; and the Concordia, spreading her studding-sails, swept on into the broadening waters of the English Channel. With the other letters went one from Dick to his mother and another to Dr Humphreys, written during his watch below.

The fair wind which the Concordia fell in with at the mouth of the Thames lasted long enough to carry the ship, not only clear of the Channel, but also well to the westward of Ushant, Captain Roberts having availed himself to the utmost of the opportunity to make as much westing as possible, as his experience had taught him that at that season of the year the prevailing winds which he might expect to meet with to the northward of Madeira would most probably be strong from the south-westward. And the event proved the correctness of that mariner’s surmise, for on his seventh day out from Gravesend he fell in with the expected shift of wind, and four hours later the Concordia was fighting her way to the southward, under double-reefed topsails, against a heavy and fast-rising sea.

Those seven days had made a vast amount of difference to Dick Maitland, so far as his usefulness as a seaman was concerned. In that comparatively brief period he had contrived not only to learn the name and function of every bit of running rigging in the ship, but also to lay his hand unerringly upon any required halyard, brace, sheet, downhaul, clewline, or other item of gear in the darkest night; he was as active and almost as handy aloft as the smartest A.B. in the ship; and he proved to be a born helmsman, standing his “trick” at the wheel from the very first, and leaving a straighter wake behind him than any of the other men, even when the ship was scudding before a heavy following sea. Mr Sutcliffe, the chief mate, was delighted with his young protégé, and declared, in unnecessarily picturesque language, that he would qualify the boy to perform the duties of an able seaman before Natal Bluff should heave in sight.

But Dick was to prove his mettle in quite another fashion before long; for the strong south-westerly breeze which the Concordia encountered on her seventh day out rapidly developed into so furious a gale that, after battling with it for some fourteen hours, Captain Roberts decided to heave-to under close-reefed fore and main topsails, and at eight bells—noon—the order was accordingly given to clew up and furl the already reefed courses, and to haul down and stow the fore-topmast staysail. This, under the weather conditions of the moment, was a task requiring the services of all hands, and by the orders of the chief mate, who was conducting the operations, Dick was stationed at the weather fore clew-garnet, with three other hands. The men, having gone to their stations, were waiting for the word of command when suddenly the chain main-tack carried away, and the part attached to the sail, acting like a whip, struck one of the men who was standing by to ease it away, smashed the poor fellow’s right arm above the elbow, shattered his jaw, and laid open his right cheek from the turn of the jaw to the right ear, which was all but torn away from the man’s head; the force of the blow also was such as to dash the unfortunate fellow against the bulwarks so violently that he instantly fell to the deck senseless.

The accident, naturally, at once occasioned the utmost confusion, in the midst of which the mainsail promptly threshed itself to rags, the mate sprang down the poop ladder and rushed to the spot, yelling a whole string of orders, to which nobody paid the slightest attention, and Dick, with two or three others, abandoned their posts and ran to the injured man’s assistance.

“Back to your stations, you skowbanks,” roared the mate. “What d’ye mean by rushing about like a flock of frightened sheep? D’ye want to see the ship dismasted? Here you, Dick, and Joe, pick him up and carry him below to his bunk until the skipper can attend to him.”

“I beg your pardon, sir,” spoke Dick, “but I am afraid we may do the poor fellow some further injury if we attempt to carry him below. I understand that there is a spare bunk in the deckhouse where the boatswain and carpenter are quartered. May we not take him in there? And, if you will give me leave, I will attend to his hurts. I have studied both medicine and surgery, and feel sure that I can do better for him than anyone else, excepting, of course, a qualified surgeon.”

“The dickens! You don’t say so?” ejaculated the mate, staring at Dick in amazement. “Very well, then, in that case you had better take charge of him. And—yes, of course, take him into the deckhouse. Now, lads, clew up that fore-course, and be lively with it; haul taut your clew-garnets, ease up your tack and sheet; man your buntlines and leach-lines; that’s your sort, up with it; away aloft, some of you, and make a good, snug furl of it!”

Quickly, yet with the utmost care, the injured seaman was lifted up and carried into the deckhouse, where, in accordance with Dick’s instructions, he was laid upon the table, a mattress having first been hurriedly dragged from one of the bunks and placed to receive him. Then, leaving the patient for the moment in charge of the other man, Dick hurried to the forecastle and brought up the medicine chest which had been Humphrey’s parting gift to him, and his case of surgical instruments, which he opened and placed upon the carpenter’s chest, to the undisguised admiration and horror of his assistant, who gazed as though fascinated at the array of highly polished saws, knives, scissors, and other instruments of queer and horribly suggestive shape. Then, dexterously removing the man’s jacket and shirt while he still remained unconscious, Dick rapidly proceeded to give his patient a systematic overhaul, with the object of ascertaining the precise nature and extent of his injuries.

He had just completed this examination when the injured man showed signs of returning consciousness, at the same moment that the skipper, having heard from the mate the particulars of the accident, came bustling into the deckhouse with a bottle of brandy in one hand and a tumbler in the other, intent upon doing something, though he scarcely knew what, for the relief of the sufferer. The brandy arrived in the nick of time, and, seizing the bottle and tumbler unceremoniously, Maitland poured out a small quantity and held the tumbler to the patient’s lips. With difficulty the man contrived to swallow about a teaspoonful, which considerably revived him, and then, with a groan of anguish, strove to mumble a few words in spite of his broken jaw. Now, if ever, was the moment when Humphreys’ doctrine of the efficacy of hypnotism might be effectively tested, and fixing the man’s upturned gaze with his own, in the peculiar manner which Humphreys had described and illustrated, Dick said to his patient, in a quiet, yet firm and confident tone of voice:

“Now, Tom, don’t attempt to say anything or ask any questions, but listen to me. You have met with an accident, but it is not at all serious; and I am going to put you right and make you quite comfortable. I shall be obliged to pull you about a bit, but understand this, you will suffer no pain whatever, and when I have finished with you you will fall into a quiet and refreshing sleep, from which you will awake without fever or complication of any sort. Now, turn over on your left side, and let me begin by attending to the injuries of your face.”

To the utter amazement of the skipper and Joe—the man who had assisted Dick to carry the injured man into the deckhouse—the patient turned quietly over on his left side as directed, without a groan or any other sign of suffering, and resigned himself quite contentedly to Dick’s ministrations. The latter, to all outward appearance perfectly calm and self-possessed, but inwardly full of astonishment at the complete success of his first experiment, at once proceeded with quick and deft hands to arrange in position the shattered fragments of the jaw, strapping them firmly in place with bandage and sticking plaster; then he deftly drew together the edges of the gashed cheek, stitched up the wound, applied an antiseptic dressing, and bound up the injured face in such a manner that the patient might be enabled to take liquid nourishment without disturbance of the dressings. Lastly, he placed the broken bone of the arm in position, and firmly secured it there with splints and bandages. As Dick inserted the last pin in the bandage and arranged the arm in a comfortable position the patient closed his eyes, and a minute later his quiet and regular breathing showed that he was fast asleep!

Chapter Four.

Phil Grosvenor’s Proposition.

“Well, dash my wig,” exclaimed the skipper, his face the picture of blank astonishment, “that beats the record! Why, the man’s fast asleep, in spite of all your handling of him! How in the name of all that’s wonderful did you manage to work that miracle, youngster?”

“Oh, easily enough!” laughed Dick. “Everything is easy, you know, sir, when you understand how to do it. I learned how to do that, and a great many other very useful things, under one of the cleverest men in London, a man who would be famous but for the fact that he prefers to work in the obscurity of the East-End, and let the poor enjoy the benefit of his wonderful skill, instead of becoming a fashionable Harley Street practitioner. With your permission, sir, I will look after our friend Tom, here; and I guarantee to have him up and about again, as well as ever, before we reach the latitude of the Cape.”

“You do?” ejaculated the skipper. “Then by George, sir, you shall have the opportunity. But, look here, why didn’t you tell me that you were a doctor, when you came and asked me to allow you to work your passage out to South Africa?”

“Well, you see,” answered Dick, “I was rather down on my luck just then; I—or rather, my mother—had learned, only a few days before, that she had been robbed of all her money; and it was imperative that I should at once go out into the world and earn more for her, hence my anxiety to go to South Africa. But I was so badly off that I couldn’t even afford to pay my fare out there; I therefore determined to work my passage. And, as I considered that the fact of my being a doctor would be no recommendation to you, I decided not to mention it.”

“Ah!” remarked the skipper; “that is just where you made a big mistake; your services as a medical man would have been far more valuable to me than as an ordinary seaman. Besides, you can do better work than mere pulling and hauling and dipping your hands into the tar bucket. You are a gentleman in manner and speech, and will look like one when you get into another suit of clothes. Now, I tell you what it is; I am not going to waste you by allowing you to remain in the forecastle any longer, so just turn to and get the tar stains off your hands, shift into a white shirt and a shore-going suit of clothes, and come aft into the cuddy as ship’s surgeon. There is, very fortunately, a vacant cabin that you can have; and you may earn the rest of your passage by looking after the health of the passengers and crew—there are three or four ladies who are pretty nearly dead with seasickness, and if you can relieve ’em they’ll bless me for discovering you.”

“Oh yes,” answered Dick cheerfully, “I have no doubt I can relieve them all right! But there is one thing with regard to this arrangement that perhaps you have not thought of, Captain. Perhaps your passengers will not approve of your bringing me aft out of the forecastle to associate with them upon terms of equality.”

“Don’t you trouble your head about that, my son,” returned the skipper. “That is my affair. But I’m quite sure that they won’t object when I tell ’em the facts of the case. Besides, they’ve already noticed you while you’ve been at the wheel, and have remarked what a well-spoken, gentlemanly young fellow you are. No, no; that’ll be all right, never fear. Now, if you’ve finished with this poor chap for a while, you had better cut away and make yourself fit for the cuddy, and then shift aft, bag and baggage.”

“Very well, sir, I will, and many thanks to you for the promotion,” answered Dick. “But we cannot leave Tom here on the table, comfortable as he is. Therefore, with your permission, sir, I will call in a couple of hands, who, with Joe and myself, will be able to put him into the spare bunk, where he will be out of everybody’s way, and where I can attend to him quite conveniently.”

To this proposal the worthy skipper at once consented; and half an hour later Dick, having discarded his working clothes for a suit of blue serge, and otherwise made himself presentable, moved aft and established himself in the spare cabin which Captain Roberts placed at his disposal, the skipper having meanwhile ensured a cordial reception for him from the passengers by telling them such particulars of Dick’s history as he was acquainted with, and also describing, with much picturesque detail, the masterly manner in which the lad had patched up the injured seaman.

Dick had no reason to complain of the manner in which the passengers received him among them; on the contrary, his reception was cordial in the extreme, especially by the women, to whose sense of romance the lad’s story, as told by the skipper, appealed very strongly. The introduction took place just as the passengers—or at least those of them who were not too ill—were about to sit down to tiffin, and Dick was assigned a place at the long table halfway between the head and the foot, where Captain Roberts and Mr Sutcliffe respectively presided; but the young man declined to sit down until he had visited and relieved his new patients, consisting of five ladies and three men.

His method of dealing with these unfortunates was simplicity itself. Relying wholly upon the wonderful power of hypnotism with which his friend Humphreys had endowed him, he prepared for each patient a draught consisting of sugar and water only, slightly flavoured with an aromatic bitter; and, as he presented this, he got the patient under his influence in the instantaneous manner which Humphreys had taught him, at the same time saying, in a quietly confident tone of voice:

“Now, I want you to drink this, please. It is an absolutely unfailing and instantaneous remedy for the distressing complaint from which you are suffering, and the moment that you have swallowed it every trace of discomfort will disappear, to return no more. You will feel so thoroughly well that very probably you will wish to rise and dress; but I do not advise that. On the contrary, I recommend you to remain where you are until you have had a few hours’ refreshing sleep, after which you can get up to dinner. That is right,”—as the patient swallowed the draught. “Now you feel quite all right, don’t you? Yes. You will feel very sleepy presently; just let yourself go; and when you awake you will find yourself as well as you ever were in your life.”

And, incredible though it may appear, that is precisely what happened. What was perhaps at least equally remarkable was that, although these good people had all suffered more or less from seasickness every day since leaving Gravesend, from that moment they were entirely free from it for the remainder of the voyage.

Among the passengers who were thus suddenly and completely cured was a Mr Philip Grosvenor, who, having been crossed in love, and, moreover, possessing far more money than he knew what to do with, while he had no disposition to dissipate it on the racecourse or at the gambling tables, was going out to South Africa to shoot big game; and this young man—he was only a month or two over twenty-six years of age—at once struck up a warm friendship with Dick, originating, possibly, in a feeling of gratitude for his prompt relief from those sufferings which had hitherto made his life a burden to him, from the moment when the South Foreland light had sunk beneath the horizon astern of the Concordia.

He made his first advances after dinner on the evening of the day which had witnessed his cure. As Dick had foretold, he fell asleep immediately after swallowing the draught which the young medico had administered, had awakened, feeling absolutely well, just in time to rise and dress for dinner, had partaken of a very hearty meal, and thereafter had made his way up on the poop to gaze upon the stirring spectacle of the ship battling with and gallantly holding her own against the raging wind and sea—and possibly also to revel in his new-found immunity from the horrors of mal de mer. Here he had found Dick, a born sailor, walking the heaving and plunging deck and chatting animatedly with Mr Sutcliffe, who, honest man, felt somewhat at a loss to determine precisely the manner of his behaviour toward the youngster whom he had so recently patronised and ordered about, but who was now translated aft to the quarterdeck upon an equal footing with himself. Dick had just about succeeded in putting to flight the worthy chief mate’s feeling of awkwardness and embarrassment when Grosvenor appeared and joined the pair, whereupon Sutcliffe, who was rather shy with the passengers, sheered off, upon the pretence of attending to his duty, and left the two together.

“By Jove, Doctor, but this is a grand sight, isn’t it?” exclaimed Dick’s recent patient. “Never saw the like of it before, and shouldn’t be in form to see it now, but for you. ’Pon my word, you know, you are a wonder—a perfect wonder! Give me your arm and let’s walk about a bit, shall we? That’s right. D’you know I don’t think I ever felt more fit in my life than I do at this moment; and to reflect that only this morning I was—ugh! Tell you what it is, Doctor, you should patent that prescription of yours, have it made up, and sell it at five shillings the bottle. You would soon make your fortune. And I’ll write a testimonial for you. ‘Took one dose and never needed another!’ eh? No, hang it all, that wouldn’t do, either, rather too ambiguous, eh? sort of double meaning in that kind of statement—what? But, joking apart, old man, I’d very strongly advise you to patent the thing and advertise it extensively. I’m certain that there’s money in it.”

“Possibly,” agreed Dick, who had no intention of taking this young man into his confidence to the extent of explaining the actual character of the draught. “Unfortunately, however, to do as you suggest needs the preliminary expenditure of a good deal of money, which is a singularly scarce commodity with me. No, I am afraid that plan of yours will scarcely do; it is true that I am particularly anxious to make my fortune, and that, too, without a moment’s loss of time, but I am afraid I shall have to hit upon some other way of doing it.”

“Ah! Well, what is your plan, if it is a fair question? Excuse me, old chap, I’m not asking out of mere vulgar, impertinent curiosity, but at the dinner table to-night somebody mentioned that you are working your passage out to South Africa. What do you propose to do when you arrive there?”

“Heaven only knows; certainly I do not,” answered Dick with a lugubrious smile. “When I step ashore on the wharf at Port Natal I shall not know in what direction to turn my steps, or where to look for a meal or a night’s lodging. Also the whole of my available capital will consist in the wages which I shall take up when Captain Roberts gives me my discharge, amounting, probably, to a couple of shillings.”

“What?” ejaculated Grosvenor incredulously. “Oh, I say, my dear chap, you are not in earnest, surely?”

“Indeed I am, then, in deadly earnest,” answered Dick. “But I am not worrying. I am strong and more than willing to work, and I mean to take the very first job that comes to hand, let it be what it will. I believe that if a chap is willing to work he can always get something to do, though it may not be precisely the kind of work that he would like. And when once I have secured the means of providing myself with board and lodging I shall be able to look round for something better.”

“Yes—yes, of course you will,” responded Grosvenor, a little dubiously. “I say, old chap,” he continued admiringly, “you are a ‘gritty’ beggar, and no mistake! I wonder if you would mind telling me your story?”

“No, not at all,” answered Dick; “there is nothing in it that I need be ashamed of.” And forthwith he proceeded to give his new-found friend a brief yet clear account of the circumstances which had resulted in his being reduced to his present plight.

“By Jove, Maitland, I admire you!” exclaimed Grosvenor when Dick had come to the end of his story. “There is not one man in a hundred who, under similar circumstances, would have tackled the situation with the indomitable pluck and whole-hearted belief in himself that you have shown; and I feel sure that such courage will meet with its just reward. You are the kind of fellow that always comes out on top, simply because you will not allow yourself to be kept down. Now, look here, I am going to make a proposition to you—and, understand me, it is on purely selfish grounds that I am going to make it. I am going out to South Africa because I want to forget a—well, a very bitter disappointment that I have recently sustained, and the particulars of which I will perhaps tell you some day if you fall in with my proposition, as I hope you will. The way in which I propose to conquer this disappointment of mine is to go in for a life of adventure—exploration of the interior, big-game shooting, and that sort of thing, you understand. I have heard some most thrilling stories of the wonderful things and people that are to be found in the interior of Africa, and, while many of them are doubtless lies, there is evidence enough of a perfectly reliable character to prove that there is at least a certain amount of truth in others; and it is my purpose to ascertain at firsthand the exact measure of that truth. Take, for example, the contention of certain antiquarians that the ruins of Ophir must exist somewhere upon the east coast. I have read pretty nearly everything that has been written upon that subject, and I am convinced of the soundness of the contention, as I am also of the contention that Zimbabwé is not ancient Ophir. Then, again, there is the statement of the existence of a mysterious white race in the far interior, which persistently crops up at intervals. It would be interesting in the extreme to be able to settle that matter beyond a doubt, wouldn’t it? Very well, then; my idea is to attempt to find ancient Ophir, and also the mysterious white race, if possible.

“Of course I know that what I propose is scarcely in the nature of a picnic; it no doubt means a good deal of hardship, privation, and danger; in fact, my friends without exception pronounced me a fool for thinking of engaging in such an undertaking, while at least half of them confidently prophesy that if I make the attempt I shall never return. Well, that is as may be; plenty of better fellows than I have gone under in such excursions, but, on the other hand, as big duffers as I am have done great things and turned up again all right, so there is no particular reason that I can see why I should not do the same. And so far as money is concerned I have more than enough to enable me to equip the expedition in such a manner as to ensure the minimum of discomfort with the maximum of everything necessary to success. The only item that I have had any doubt as to my ability to obtain is—a suitable companion; for of course in my maddest moments I have never been ass enough to contemplate going into so big a thing single-handed. But the precise kind of man that I want was not to be found either among my friends or elsewhere at home, so I came away without him, trusting that I should be lucky enough to pick him up somewhere on the way; and, by Jove, Maitland, the event has justified my trust; for I have found in you exactly the kind of man I have had in my mind all along—or, rather, somebody better, for in addition to your other qualifications you have very considerable skill as a physician and surgeon, which is what I never hoped to secure, even in my most sanguine moments.”

“Do you wish me to infer, then, that you are proposing to take me as a hired assistant—or what?” demanded Dick.

“Well, yes—and no,” answered Grosvenor, with a somewhat embarrassed laugh. “As a hired assistant, certainly, because the services of a fellow like yourself would be of incalculable value to me, especially when the inevitable sickness comes along. But I want particularly to secure you because—well, to be perfectly plain and blunt, because I have taken a great fancy to you, and because I recognise in you exactly the qualities that would make of you not only an invaluable assistant but also a perfectly ideal partner, friend, and companion. Therefore, in your capacity as medical attendant to the expedition I propose to offer you a regular fixed salary of, let us say, two guineas a day, or, taking one month with another, sixty-five pounds a month—the first six months to be paid in advance—and, in your capacity of partner, all the ivory, skins, and other matters which we may accumulate during the progress of the expedition, except what I may desire to appropriate as trophies wherewith to adorn the ancestral halls.”

Dick laughed. “Thank you very much,” he said, “but I couldn’t possibly accede to your terms; they are altogether too glaringly unfair. The salaried part I don’t at all object to, because of course if you desire to include a medical man in your retinue you must pay him a fair salary, and two guineas a day is not too much, in my opinion. But when you come to talk about my share of the spoils, in my capacity of your partner, it becomes a different matter altogether, since I cannot contribute a farthing to the expenses of the expedition, therefore I cannot by any process of reasoning be entitled to any share of its possible profits. No; if you care to engage me as doctor, at the salary that you have named, I will accept the post with pleasure and my most hearty thanks, because the pay will suffice to keep the dear old Mater going; and when we return to civilisation—if we ever do—I shall be able to set about the task in earnest of ‘making my fortune.’”

“But, look here my dear fellow,” remonstrated Grosvenor, “it is just nonsense in you—if you will excuse my saying so—to refuse the second part of my proposal, for this reason. I am not undertaking this expedition as a speculation, or with any idea of making it pay. I have already a much larger income than I know what to do with, and for that and other reasons money does not come into the question at all. Like other fellows who go hunting, I shall naturally desire to have a few trophies to exhibit as tokens of my prowess; but, beyond those, I shall have no use at all for ivory, skins, horns, and such other matters as we may acquire; therefore you may as well have them as anyone else, especially as you are avowedly out fortune-hunting. Besides, two guineas a day is an altogether inadequate rate of remuneration for a young fellow of your exceptional ability—why, before you had been practising a month you would be earning four or five times that amount, and you will be sacrificing that possibility for an indefinite period if you elect to join forces with me. Therefore I contend that if any profits of any kind accrue to the expedition, you are justly entitled to them, and I shall not be content unless you consent to take them; indeed if you refuse I shall be obliged to withdraw my offer altogether, much as I shall regret having to do so.”

Under those circumstances there was of course nothing more to be said; and finally Dick agreed to Grosvenor’s proposal in its entirety, the more readily that, after all, when he came to reflect upon it, there was much truth in what Grosvenor had said with regard to the possible loss which Dick might sustain by attaching himself to the expedition and burying himself in the wilds for a more or less indefinite period.

As time went on there could be no doubt as to the fact that Grosvenor was genuinely pleased with the arrangement by which he had secured Dick as his companion in the projected expedition, nor did he make any secret of the fact that he regarded the terms of the agreement as eminently satisfactory from his own point of view; while Dick, for his part, felt that he had done not at all badly in securing a post at a salary of sixty-five pounds a month, to be enjoyed the moment that he set foot on shore. Moreover, that salary was a sure thing for at least six months, and since Grosvenor insisted upon paying in advance for that period Dick would be in a position to remit quite a nice little sum home to his mother, immediately upon his arrival on South African soil. Both parties to the agreement were thus equally satisfied, and thenceforward devoted much of their time to elaborating their plans, in order that no time should be lost upon their arrival.

Grosvenor, with the confidence of the inexperienced, was quite prepared unhesitatingly to plunge into the very heart of darkest Africa with no other companions than Dick, and a few Kafir or Hottentot “boys” as servants; but Dick, although the younger of the two, had discretion enough to understand that this would be a very unwise thing to do, and that it would be altogether more prudent in every way to secure the services of some white man, well acquainted with the country, and the ways and language of the natives, to act as a sort of general overseer and factotum, and this view Grosvenor at length somewhat unwillingly accepted.

Meanwhile, Tom, the injured man, made the most extraordinarily rapid progress toward recovery, under Dick’s skilled treatment, much to the enhancement of that young gentleman’s reputation; and some appreciable time before the period that Dick had named he was out again and on duty, very little the worse for his accident save that his right cheek bore a scar which he would carry with him to his grave.

At length a day arrived when Captain Roberts, having worked out his observations for the determination of the ship’s latitude and longitude, made the welcome announcement that, if the wind held and all went well, the passengers, by this time thoroughly weary of the—to most of them—changeless monotony of sea and sky, might hope to feast their eyes upon the glowing picture of a South African landscape within the ensuing twenty-four hours; and at once everybody became cheerfully busy upon the task of packing up in preparation for the joyous moment when they might exchange the eternal movement of the rocking deck for terra firma, and rejoice once more in the sight of trees and grass and flowers, of busy streets, and of the much-talked-of beauties of suburban Berea. Dick Maitland’s possessions were so few that they needed very little packing to prepare them for transit from ship to shore, and when he had finished he adjourned to Grosvenor’s cabin to assist that gentleman, who, since dispensing with the services of a valet, seemed quite incapable of replacing his possessions in the receptacles from which he had taken them upon the beginning of the voyage. The remainder of the day was passed in the animated discussion of future plans and arrangements, while one effect of the imminent termination of the long ocean voyage was the sudden development of an amazing access of cordiality between people who had hitherto manifested but little interest in each other, accompanied by pressing invitations to “come and stay a few days at my place whenever you happen to be in the neighbourhood”. Also a few of the more enthusiastic occupants of the cuddy remained on deck until midnight, in the hope of catching a glimpse of the Bluff light before turning in, only to retire to their cabins, discontented and grumbling, because at eight bells the gleam still obstinately refused to appear on the horizon over the port bow, where Mr Sutcliffe, the chief mate, had been anxiously watching for it.

But full compensation came to the disappointed ones when, awakened on the following morning about six o’clock by the voice of the mate issuing certain sharp orders from the poop, followed by the flinging down of ropes upon the deck and the cheery “yo ho’s” of the sailors, as they threw their weight upon various portions of the ship’s running gear, the said disappointed ones leaped from their bunks and hastened out on deck clad only in pyjamas and overcoats; for they found the ship hove-to on the starboard tack with her head to the eastward, while stretching away astern of them, from the starboard to the port quarter, was the dominating eminence of the Bluff, bush-clad from base to crest, crowned with its lighthouse and signal staff—from the latter of which was fluttering the answering pennant, acknowledging the deciphering of the Concordia’s number—with the long breakwater jutting out into the sea from its foot, while, nearer at hand, there stretched across the scene the low outline of the Point, also bush-crowned, with the roofs of a few houses and a flagstaff or two showing above the verdure, the sandy beach, with the eternal surf thundering upon it in long lines of rainbow spray, reaching for mile after mile athwart the ship’s stern, and for background the far-stretching ridge of the bush-clad, villa-studded range of the Berea, the windows of its houses already ablaze with the ardent beams of the newly risen sun. The prospect is a charming one at any time, but never more so perhaps than when it is suddenly presented, fresh, green, and beautiful, in the clear atmosphere and the light of early morning, to the vision of those whose eyes, after seventy days of gazing upon sky and sea, are yearning to behold once more the beauties of the solid earth.

For a full hour the ship remained hove-to with her head to seaward, during which an early breakfast was served to the occupants of the cuddy; then, upon the appearance of the tug coming out over the bar, the Concordia wore round and headed inshore, the light sails were rapidly clewed up or hauled down, the towline was got ready for passing, and in a moment everything was bustle and apparent confusion upon the ship’s decks, barefooted seamen rushing hither and thither, flinging down coils of rope on deck, casting off halyards and sheets, and dragging vociferously upon clew-garnets, clewlines, downhauls, and the other complicated paraphernalia of a ship’s furniture, with the captain shouting orders from the poop, and the mate in charge of a gang of men on the forecastle getting the anchor a-cockbill ready for letting go, and preparing for the arrival of the tug alongside. Then up came the little steamer, rolling and pitching heavily upon the long ground swell, sweeping round in a long curve that brought her all but alongside the wallowing ship; a brief interchange of hails between her bridge and the Concordia’s poop, the sudden snaking out of a whirling heaving-line from the forecastle of the latter, followed by the thin but tremendously strong steel towing hawser; and as the few remaining sheets of the ship’s canvas shrivelled in to the masts and yards the tug passed ahead, the towrope rose dripping out of the water, tautened to the semblance of a metal rod, and away went the two craft, heading for the middle of the space of water that divided the two breakwaters. Half an hour later the Concordia came to an anchor in the spacious but shallow inner harbour opposite the railway station, and the long voyage was at an end.

But the eager passengers were not yet at liberty to go on shore. Although the Concordia carried a clean bill of health, certain formalities had yet to be gone through; the medical officer had still to satisfy himself that there was no sickness of any infectious kind on board before pratique was granted. And, as the medical officer happened to be a thoroughly conscientious man, the determination of this fact consumed a full hour. But at length the tedious examination came to an end, the ship was pronounced perfectly healthy, and the boats which had been hovering round her were permitted to come alongside. Then ensued a few minutes of strenuous bargaining between passengers and boatmen, at the end of which time Dick and Grosvenor, having said goodbye to the captain and officers—Dick also included the crew in his farewell—found themselves being pulled across the few yards of water which intervened between ship and shore, and presently they stood upon the sun-blistered wharf fighting their way through an odoriferous crowd of shouting, laughing, gesticulating, and more than half-naked Kafir rickshaw-men who clamoured for the honour of dragging them the mile or so that separated the Point from Durban. But the Custom House officers had first to be placated, and Grosvenor disgustedly found himself obliged to disburse a goodly sum as duty upon his firearms and ammunition before he was permitted to retain possession of them. At length, however, the Customs barrier was successfully negotiated; and then Dick in one rickshaw, Grosvenor in another, and their baggage in a third, the two friends proceeded in triumph along the bush-bordered road, over the level crossing of the railway, and so up Smith Street to the Royal Hotel, where they purposed to put up for a day or two, and where, upon their arrival, they joined their fellow passengers at a hilarious second breakfast in accordance with an arrangement made at the cabin table a few hours earlier.

Chapter Five.

The Beginning of the Adventure.

The second breakfast over, farewells were spoken—with, in some cases, the promise to meet again speedily—and the voyagers separated, some to make their way home to their sugar or coffee estates in the neighbourhood, others to take train to more distant localities, some three or four being bound as far afield as Johannesburg or Pretoria—and Dick, with his friend Grosvenor, set out to wander about the town of Durban, inspect the shops, pass through the aristocratic quarter of the Berea, per tram, and finally, on a couple of horses hired from the hotel stable, to ride out to the River Umgeni, and thence to Sea Cow Lake, in the vain hope of getting a sight of a few of the hippopotami that were said to still haunt that piece of water; finally returning to the hotel in time for dinner, hot, tired, but supremely happy, and delighted with everything that they had seen.

During the progress of the meal they made the acquaintance of a Mr Gerald Muspratt, a coffee planter, whose estate was situate some twelve miles distant, in the adjoining county of Victoria; and, the acquaintance ripening over the after-dinner coffee, with that breathless celerity which is one of the most charming characteristics of the Colonies, before retiring for the night the two friends had accepted Muspratt’s very pressing invitation to ride out with him to his place next morning, and spend a couple of days there with him to look round the estate and be introduced to Muspratt’s two or three neighbours. This they did in due course, the two days’ visit lengthening itself into four, and ending by the acceptance of another invitation, this time from a sugar planter whose estate, Mount Pleasant, was situate some fourteen miles farther up the coast, on the other side of the Umhloti River. This invitation Dick would fain have declined, for he was impatient to begin the real business that lay before them; but Grosvenor was so charmed with the country and everything that he saw in it, and especially with the spontaneous kindness, friendliness, and hospitality of its people, that he seemed in no hurry to rush away from it all and bury himself in the wilderness. As it happened, neither of the young men had any reason to regret the time thus spent, for their host, an old-time transport rider, named Mitchell, had penetrated far beyond the Zambezi in his younger days, was an experienced hunter, knew the interior, its inhabitants, and their peculiarities as well as, if not better than, any other man living, and was brimful of information and hints absolutely invaluable to the new arrivals, which he freely imparted. When told of the nature and scope of the young men’s projected adventure, however, he shook his head dubiously, and strongly urged them to abandon the idea of attempting more than just a few months’ big-game shooting.

“Mind you,” he said, “I strongly sympathise with you in your very ambitious aims, ridiculous as many men would pronounce them, for I was animated by precisely the same desire myself when I was a youngster of about your age,” turning to Grosvenor.

“By Jove! you don’t say so?” ejaculated Grosvenor, surprised and delighted to meet a man of such wide experience as Mitchell who did not pronounce his plans chimerical; for it must be stated that thus far the enunciation of those plans had been almost invariably received with either covert or open ridicule. “Then,” he continued, “do I understand that you believe in the possibility of finding the site of ancient Ophir?”

“Well—yes—you may understand me to mean that—in a general way,” was Mitchell’s somewhat guarded admission. “But,” he continued, “if you ask whether I think it probable that you will discover either Ophir or the mysterious white race which rumour has asserted to exist somewhere in the far interior, I answer: Certainly not.”

“The dickens!” exclaimed Grosvenor. “But why, my dear sir, why?”

“Well—if you will not be offended by my exceeding candour—chiefly because I think you both much too young and too inexperienced to have any chance of succeeding in so very formidable an undertaking,” was the somewhat discouraging reply.

“Yes, of course,” admitted Grosvenor, “it is true that we are both quite inexperienced; but our youth is surely in our favour rather than against us, for we are strong and healthy, and no doubt will soon become inured to fatigue, hardship, and even privation. We both have splendid constitutions; and, moreover, my friend Maitland here is a doctor and surgeon of quite remarkable ability, which fact I regard as of the utmost importance. Then, as to the matter of experience, I imagine that we are bound to acquire that as we go on; we are not going to be transported into the heart of the wilds in a few hours by express train, you know.”

“No,” answered Mitchell, with a somewhat grim smile, “that is quite true, as is also your contention that you will acquire some experience as you go on. Then, of course, the fact that Mr Maitland is a doctor and surgeon—of which I was unaware—is a great point in your favour. But, when all is said, I still think that you will find the undertaking too much for you. Why— By the way, did you ever hear of a certain Charles Menzies?”

“The explorer, you mean? Yes, I have heard of him; in fact I believe it was an account of his travels that first put this idea into my head,” answered Grosvenor.

“Ah!” remarked Mitchell cryptically; “I wonder just how much you have heard respecting his travels?”

“Well, not very much, I must confess,” acknowledged Grosvenor. “So far as I can remember, it amounted simply to the statement that after one of his long absences from civilisation he returned with the story that he had actually discovered the site of ancient Ophir; and that he had gathered reliable information concerning the existence of the mysterious white race, which is to be one of the objects of my quest.”

“Just so,” commented Mitchell, relapsing into a pregnant silence. It was evident that he was intently considering some difficult question. Presently he looked up and said:

“I knew Menzies very well in my younger days. As a matter of fact I saved his life; for had I not happened to have fallen in with him and picked him up he must have inevitably perished; and in that case the public would never have heard any of the extraordinary rumours respecting his discoveries that afterwards leaked out. I was away up-country elephant hunting at the time, and I found him, some seventy miles this side of the Zambezi, in the last stages of exhaustion from starvation. He was then returning from the journey that made him famous, and had lost everything he possessed, even to his rifle; it is therefore nothing short of marvellous that he had contrived to make his way as far back as he did when I found him. He was too ill to talk much when I first picked him up, but afterwards, when he grew stronger, he told me the whole astounding story of his journey and his adventures. He talked of publishing the narrative, but I very strongly dissuaded him from doing so; for, as I pointed out to him, there were portions of that narrative which were of so absolutely incredible a character that nobody would believe them, and the story would lose all value from the fact that it would be regarded as merely a fantastic fabrication, and he would gain the reputation of an unblushing romancer. To tell you the truth, I was firmly persuaded at the time that what he had gone through had affected his brain, and that he was the victim of a series of the most weird and horrible illusions. But I had reason to modify my opinion in that respect a few years afterward, although I am still unable to make up my mind definitely as to just how much of his story was true and how much was due to an imagination that had become warped and distorted by peril and suffering.”

“By Jove!” exclaimed Grosvenor, with a sort of thrill in his voice. “I say, you know, all this is intensely interesting. Eh, what? I wonder if you would mind repeating to us a few of those statements that you found it so difficult to believe at the time, and with regard to which you were afterwards inclined to modify your opinion?”

“Well,” answered Mitchell, “I am afraid I must ask you to excuse me from doing that. You see, Menzies was my friend, and one of the finest fellows that ever lived. He is dead now, poor chap, and I would not willingly say a single word that might cause you or anyone else to think lightly of him, or picture him in your mind as other than the very soul of truth and honour. Yet if I were to repeat to you some of the statements that I have in my mind, I know that you two hard-headed, matter-of-fact Englishmen would at once set them down as the veriest fairy tales, their author a second Munchausen, and myself a credulous old fool for attaching the slightest weight to them. And yet, let me tell you, Africa is a very queer country—as you will discover if you persist in attempting to carry out your plan—and queer things happen in it, things that strain a man’s credulity to the breaking-point, until he has had personal experience of them. That remark of Shakespeare’s, that ‘there are more things in heaven and earth than are reckoned in our philosophy’ is nowhere more forcefully confirmed than in this continent of Africa, and especially in those parts of it which are practically unknown to the white man. Why, even here, close at hand, among our neighbours the Zulus, there have been happenings—well authenticated, mind you—that are absolutely unexplainable by any knowledge that we whites possess. But I think I have prosed enough for one sitting, and it is growing late—one o’clock, as I am a living sinner!—and you must be growing tired. Do you wonder why I have told you all these things? Well, it is because I should like to dissuade you from this mad scheme of yours, which my experience tells me can only end in disaster, and induce you to content yourselves with a two-months’ hunting trip in the company of some good man who knows the country, and can be trusted to see that you come to no harm. Now, good night, both of you! think over what I have said; sleep well, and don’t dream of fantastic horrors such as my talk may have suggested.”

If Mr Joseph Mitchell, sugar planter, and thoroughly honest, well-meaning man, flattered himself that the foregoing conversation would have any other effect than to stimulate the curiosity of his guests and confirm them in their determination to carry out their plans in their entirety, he very greatly over-estimated his persuasive powers, and completely misread the characters of those to whom he had been talking. For both Grosvenor and Maitland were of a highly adventurous disposition, and what Mitchell had told them had simply whetted their curiosity to a keen edge, and had strongly suggested to them that the adventure promised to be of an even more alluring and thrilling character than they had ever ventured to hope, even in their most sanguine moments. So much, indeed, they made clear to their host when they met him the next morning at the breakfast table; and, when he would have made a further attempt at dissuasion, laughingly assured him that their minds were finally made up, and that the kindest thing he could now do for them would be to give them as much information and as many hints and wrinkles as he could think of to help them to a satisfactory conclusion of the adventure. This Mitchell proceeded to do, when at length the conviction had been borne in upon him that all his efforts at dissuasion were worse than useless; and when, two days later, they took leave of the genial planter, Dick carried away with him a notebook crowded from cover to cover with information that was destined to prove of incalculable value to him and his companion, as well as a sketch map showing the best route to follow, and certain localities that were to be most carefully avoided if they desired to return sane and sound to civilisation.

Arrived in Durban once more, after a most delightful jaunt, they at once set about making their preparations in earnest, one of the first things which Grosvenor insisted upon doing being the payment to Dick of six months’ salary in advance, from the date of their landing upon South African soil. Practically the whole of this Dick was able to remit home to his mother, since Grosvenor would not hear of his contributing so much as a single penny toward the expenses of the expedition, therefore the junior member of the partnership had no need to spend anything, except for a few curios which he thought his mother might like to display to her friends; but he laid in a few additional drugs, and also added a spare instrument or two to his surgical case, to cover the possibility of loss or accident.

Three days later they started for Johannesburg, by way of Delagoa Bay and Pretoria, Grosvenor being very anxious to get a glimpse of life on the Rand and to gain some knowledge of diamonds and diamond mining before he finally bade farewell to civilisation. Since Johannesburg lay on the direct line of their route, and the knowledge sought might possibly prove useful in the future, Dick raised no objection to the proposal, especially as they went armed with letters of introduction from Mitchell to some of the most influential of the Rand magnates and others whose advice and assistance would be exceedingly helpful. A busy three weeks spent in the city and at Witwatersrand enriched them with much very valuable information, both particular and general, and also enabled them to acquire four excellent horses and an Indian coolie groom named Ramoo Samee, who not only bore a most admirable character, but also raised no objection when informed of the nature and scope of the adventure upon which his employers were bound. Here, too, and also at Pretoria, the partners endeavoured to secure the services of a hunter as guide and general superintendent, but were unable to meet with one who conformed in all respects to their requirements; they therefore ultimately decided to defer their further quest until their arrival in Bulawayo, which was to be the point from which they would finally bid farewell to civilisation.

But upon their arrival at Bulawayo, although they met with no difficulty in providing themselves with a brand-new wagon and a team of twenty “salted” oxen, together with a Hottentot driver named Jantje, and a Kafir boy named ’Nkuku as voorlouper, no suitable candidate for the post of guide offered himself or could be found; and finally, after devoting a full week to fruitless search and enquiry, Dick and Grosvenor agreed to start without one, and trust to luck and their own good sense. Everybody, with one solitary exception, declared that it was a most risky thing to do; but the solitary exception, in the shape of an old Boer farmer named Van Zyl, applauded their pluck, and declared that they were far more likely to succeed by learning the lesson of the wild for themselves, and depending upon their own courage and adaptiveness, than if they set out under the guidance of another, and remained more or less in leading strings throughout the journey.

“What I would advise,” he said, “is that you should look out for a good ‘nigger’; he will be far more helpful to you than any white man, and will be content to be a good servant to you—if you are careful to keep him in his proper place—instead of trying to be your master.”

This sounded like good, sensible advice, coming as it did from a man who had been born, brought up, and had spent a long life on the borderline separating civilisation from savagedom, and it finally confirmed them in the determination, to which they had already practically come, to do without a white guide.

According to Mitchell, their route from Bulawayo lay generally in a north-easterly direction, and accordingly, after transacting all their business, making every possible preparation for the long journey before them, and writing their final letters home, announcing the fact that they were about to plunge into the wilderness, and that, therefore, no further news must be expected of them for an indefinite period, they set out about ten o’clock on a certain glorious morning, boldly striking straight out across the veldt, and directing their course by compass. Their wagon was already fully loaded, the load consisting of several air-tight cases of ammunition, six barrels of flour, a cask of sugar, a bag of coffee, a chest of tea, a small keg of brandy—to be used only in cases of the utmost emergency—a case containing pickles, condiments, preserves, salt, and other articles of a similar character, to be regarded as luxuries and used accordingly; their own personal belongings including clothes and firearms, a small tent made of waterproof material for sleeping in, two net hammocks with portable supports, a full set of cooking utensils, four sacks of mealie meal, and, finally, two large boxes of beads of various kinds, a quantity of brass wire, and a case of cheap mechanical and other toys, small mirrors, etcetera which Grosvenor had had the foresight to bring out from England with him, the last three items being destined to be employed in bartering with the natives. All this constituted quite as heavy a load as it was at all desirable to put upon the wagon, although the full team of twenty oxen made light of it, especially as it was now the dry season, and the ground was firm and hard for travelling. As for Dick and Grosvenor, they travelled on horseback, changing their steeds at every outspan, in order to accustom the animals to them, and gradually to get them into good, hard condition by working them to a certain extent every day. They rode armed each with a good, serviceable sporting rifle, capable of dealing with practically any game except elephant, a formidable hunting knife, and a revolver; and, in addition, each of them carried a pair of the finest and most powerful binocular glasses that Grosvenor had been able to procure in London. He had had the foresight to provide two pairs in case of accident, which was fortunate, for now each rider was independent of the other. Acting upon the advice of their friend Van Zyl, they confined themselves strictly to short treks, averaging about five miles each, and three treks per day, for the first four days, in order to keep the oxen in good condition as long as possible.

Those first four days of their march were quite uneventful, the going was good, the grass still rich and abundant, water plentiful, and there was just enough game to keep the party well supplied with meat, while the animals worked well and improved in condition rather than otherwise, especially the horses, which proved to be even more promising than their owners had hoped for when they purchased them.

It was on the morning of the fifth day that the party encountered what might be spoken of as their first exciting incident, and it occurred, or rather began, as they were nearing the end of their first trek, about nine o’clock in the morning. Dick and Grosvenor, mounted as usual, with the half-dozen dogs that constituted their pack quartering the ground ahead of them, were nearly a mile ahead of the wagon, looking out for a suitable spot for the first outspan, when a sudden clamour on the part of the dogs, who had just disappeared over a low rise in the ground, caused the two riders to put spurs to their horses, in order to see what was the cause of the outcry. A short gallop sufficed to carry them to the crest of the ridge, when they beheld the dogs baying and snarling round a fine, well-set-up native “boy”, who, armed with assagais and knobkerrie, constituted one of a party of some thirty in number who appeared to be guarding a herd of about three hundred grazing cattle, while about half a mile farther on was a native village of some fifty Kafir huts of the usual beehived shape, built in the midst of a number of mealie fields occupying an area of, roughly, about half a square mile, situated near the banks of a small stream.

Dick Maitland, who had early developed a rather remarkable aptitude for picking up the language of the natives, at once cantered forward, and, calling off the dogs, demanded to know the name of the village, and where would be the best place at which to outspan. But the native whom he addressed, and who seemed to be labouring under considerable excitement, replied with such a rapid flow of words that his speech was utterly unintelligible, save that his communication had something to do with lions, the boy pointing first to a big clump of bush about a mile distant, and then to the village itself. Dick made several attempts to arrive at a better understanding of the nature of the communication, but without any very marked success, and at length suggested that Grosvenor should ride back to the wagon and hurry it forward, in order that Jantje, the Hottentot driver, might act as interpreter. This was done, and about twenty minutes later the wagon arrived, and the situation was explained to Jantje, who forthwith poured out a flood of eloquence upon the little band of natives, who by this time had gathered round Dick and were earnestly endeavouring to make him understand something that they evidently regarded as of very great importance. A brief but animated conversation at once ensued, at the end of which Jantje turned to his employers and explained:

“Dhese people say, sars, dat dhere is four, five lion in de bush yander and dhey won’ go ’way, and dhey wan’ to know if white gent’men be so kind as to kill dhem lion; because if dhey not be killed dhey kill de poor Kafirs’ cattle. Two day ago dhem lion kill two oxen and mos’ horrible maul de boy dat was herding dhem.”

“Phew! lions, eh?” exclaimed Grosvenor. “I say, Maitland, this is good news, eh, what? I am longing for the chance to have a pot at a lion. All right, Jantje; you tell them that we will kill the lions for them with the greatest of pleasure. We’ll outspan at once and set about the business forthwith. That will be the right thing to do, I suppose, Dick, won’t it?”

“Yes, certainly,” answered Dick, “by all means. But before we think of tackling those lions I must see that poor beggar who was mauled. Two days ago! By Jove, I dread to think of what the state of his wounds must be in this hot weather, that is, if he is still alive. Just ask them, Jantje, whether the boy who was mauled is still living, or whether the lions killed him?”

The question was put, and Jantje duly interpreted the reply.

“Yes, sar, de boy he still alive, but most drefful sick, dhese people say.”

“Good!” exclaimed Dick, dismounting from his horse. “Then say to them that I am a great doctor, and that I intend to save the poor fellow’s life if I can. I want one of them to carry my medicine chest for me, and to take me to the injured man’s hut. Then you had better take the wagon down and outspan near the river, where the grass is good, but where our oxen are not likely to get among the mealies, and then come to me, for I shall probably need you to interpret for me.”

The first part of this speech being interpreted to the little crowd of natives, one of them at once stepped forward, expressing himself as willing to carry the medicine chest and act as guide, while another volunteered to point out a suitable and convenient spot upon which to outspan, the others forthwith breaking into a song of thanksgiving in which they announced to all and sundry that this was their lucky day, inasmuch as that the white ’mlungus were not only going to make well again their brother who was nigh unto death, but were also going to utterly root out and destroy those cunning beasts who refused to come out into the open and face their assagais. Grosvenor announced his intention of accompanying Dick, and five minutes later the pair, with their sable guide leading the way and carrying the medicine chest, were en route for the village, Dick carrying his case of surgical instruments under his arm. Their rifles they left with the wagon, deeming it unnecessary to cumber themselves with superfluous weapons in face of the fact that the villagers were obviously quite friendly disposed to white men, indeed they were still too close to civilisation to anticipate anything else.

As they neared the village the “boy” who preceded them began to shout the great news that the white men were coming to make whole the injured man, and the occupants of the huts, to the number of about two hundred men, women, and children, swarmed out to gaze upon the strangers. The guide, who was inclined to put on airs, upon the strength of being the bearer of the white men’s muti, would fain have made the most of the occasion by pausing in the centre of the village and haranguing his fellows, but Dick nipped the intention ruthlessly in the bud by repeating several times, in an imperative tone of voice, the word hamba (go), and presently the procession—for every occupant of the village formed up and followed the trio—came to a halt in front of one of the huts.

As the bearer of the medicine chest pushed his burden in through the low, narrow entrance of the hut, and dropped on hands and knees in order to follow it, Dick turned and, perceiving a disposition on the part of the crowd to gather close about the entrance, and so exclude what little light and air might otherwise make its way in, took an assagai from the hand of an astonished native, and, holding it by the blade, waved the press back with the butt end of the weapon. Then, still waving the butt end, he described on the ground the arc of a circle of some twelve feet radius from the hut entrance, and, returning the weapon to its owner, pointed to the mark on the ground, and, addressing the curiosity-ridden mob, said impressively in English:

“Now, good people, please have the goodness to keep carefully outside that line, and oblige yours truly!”

There was not one of those odoriferous, dark-skinned Kafirs who comprehended a word of English, but Dick’s actions and the tones of his voice were so expressive that his meaning was almost as distinctly understood as though he had spoken in the language of the tribe. He saw at once that this was so, and that his wishes would be obeyed, and signing to Grosvenor to precede him, forthwith passed into the hut.

Entering the windowless structure straight from the dazzling sunshine that flooded the outside world, the two Englishmen found themselves plunged for the moment in a darkness so profound that they could see nothing, and were fain to stand just where they rose to their feet after creeping through the low doorway, lest, moving, they should stumble over something—possibly the patient. But in addition to the hot, close odour of the interior of the hut there was another taint that assailed their nostrils, the taint of festering wounds, with which Dick was already familiar, and he shook his head doubtfully as he turned to the figure of Grosvenor, just beginning to reveal itself in the midst of the enveloping obscurity, and said:

“I don’t like this at all. I can’t see my patient as yet, but there is a certain something in the atmosphere of this hut which tells me that if the poor beggar’s life is to be saved we have no time to waste. Where is he, I wonder? Oh, I think I see him, there on the ground at the far side from the doorway! Yes, there he is. Another minute and I shall be able to see him clearly. Meanwhile, perhaps his pulse will tell us something.”

And, crossing to the far side of the hut, he knelt down by the side of the indistinctly seen man, felt for his hand, and, having found it, laid his fingers upon the wrist.

Chapter Six.

An Encounter with Lions.

“Um!” murmured Dick, as the feeble throbbing of the man’s pulse met his finger tips; “quite as I expected. Very low and weak. Evidently sinking from exhaustion. I must have him out of this into a better light, although I am almost afraid to run the risk of moving him. Still, it must be done. I can see nothing here.”

He went to the door of the hut and looked out, the crowd still grouped on the outside of the curve he had described on the ground respectfully making way before him. There was a small but densely foliaged tree growing at no great distance from the hut, and casting a strong shadow upon the ground; that, Dick decided, would be as good a place as any for his purpose. As he was about to re-enter the hut there arose a slight commotion upon the outskirts of the crowd, and presently Jantje, the Hottentot driver, appeared, endeavouring to force his way through to his master. The sight was a welcome one, for Dick felt very much at a loss with no one to interpret for him, and in tones of unmistakable relief he lifted up his voice and shouted:

“Come along, Jantje; you are just the man I wanted.” Then, as the Hottentot joined him, he continued: “See here, Jantje, I want the wounded man very carefully removed from the hut, and carried over yonder into the shadow of that tree. Just explain to these fellows, will you, and ask them to help me.”

No sooner said than done; with the passing of the last word through Jantje’s lips half a dozen stalwart Kafirs dived into the hut and in another moment reappeared, bearing between them the unhappy patient, stretched upon an eland’s skin. It was an exceedingly awkward job to get the poor fellow out through the low, narrow doorway of the hut, but they managed it somehow, and in another minute had him satisfactorily disposed beneath the shadow of the tree. Then Dick approached and proceeded to examine his hurts.

They had been severe enough to start with; but now, after nearly forty-eight hours of neglect, their condition was so indescribably loathsome that even Dick, seasoned hand though he was, nearly vomited at the sight of them, while as for Grosvenor, he was compelled to beat a precipitate retreat, but returned gamely, some five minutes later, to see if he could be of any assistance. Dick, however, although he had never in his life before beheld anything approaching such a dreadful sight, quickly pulled himself together and, his professional instinct promptly asserting itself, ordered some hot water to be brought to him, and, while it was being prepared, opened his medicine chest and his case of surgical instruments, the rest of the inhabitants of the village gathering round in a wide, silent, awestruck circle. They had often before seen similar sights, and were therefore in a measure accustomed to them; they knew what the patient’s condition meant, and there was not one among them who did not regard the injured man as already as good as dead. Nevertheless their curiosity was powerfully aroused; for they had heard many wonderful stories of the white men who had lately come into the country toward the south, and were eager to see whether or not it was true that they could perform miracles, as had been asserted.

As for Dick, he found himself confronted at the outset by a very serious difficulty. His patient’s condition was such that he could not possibly do what was necessary without inflicting upon the unfortunate man an amount of suffering that in his low and exhausted condition threatened to result in collapse and death. The man was too far gone, indeed, to justify the use of anaesthetics, yet without them Dick feared to proceed. What was he to do? Suddenly he bethought himself of hypnotism. Yet, how hypnotise a man whose language he could not speak? Then he remembered a very remarkable statement which Humphreys had made when discussing this same subject of hypnotism. “It is not the actual words which you address to a patient,” Humphreys had asserted, “but the commands which your will imposes on him that produce the desired effect, which can be obtained without the employment of words at all, if your will be strong enough. And remember, also, that no abnormal strength of will is needed if your patient be passive, unresisting.” “Surely,” thought Dick, “that ought to meet the present case, and at all events it is well worth trying; so here goes.” Therewith he bent over his patient and, fixing the man’s gaze in the peculiar manner which Humphreys had taught him, silently willed him to sink into so deep a sleep that he should feel nothing of what was about to be done to him. Almost immediately the man’s eyelids fluttered, closed, and he sank into a profound sleep, breathing slowly and deeply, as could be seen by the regular rise and fall of his bare, brawny chest.

“Wao! ’mtagati—’mkulu ’mtagati (a wizard—a great wizard)!” murmured the astonished crowd of onlookers behind their hands, gazing wonderingly in each other’s eyes.

Again Dick laid his fingers on his patient’s pulse; already it was stronger and more steady. Very gently he raised one of the man’s eyelids and lightly laid his finger upon the eyeball; the patient might have been dead for all the effect that the touch had upon him. Then, the warm water opportunely arriving, the young doctor got to work without further delay. Strongly impregnating the water with an antiseptic, he proceeded rapidly to cleanse the wounds, taking a pair of scissors or a knife from time to time and removing the already putrefying flesh; then he proceeded to dress the wounds, one after the other, with healing ointments, drawing the edges together, where necessary, with a few stitches; and when at length, after more than an hour’s diligent, careful work, his labours came to an end, he ordered the wagon cartel to be brought to the village, the door of the man’s hut to be enlarged, and a window opening to be made; and finally, when all these things had been done to his satisfaction, he caused a comfortable bed to be arranged upon the cartel, with skins borrowed from other huts, and the man to be laid thereon and taken back to his hut. And all this time the patient had been sleeping as calmly as an infant! The time had now, however, arrived when he must be aroused, in order that an anti-febrifuge might be administered; Dick therefore once more bent over the man, strongly willing him to awake, which he instantly did, when, through Jantje as interpreter, the question was put to him how he felt. He immediately replied, in a wonderfully strong voice, considering his condition, that he felt much better, and that his wounds were no longer so painful as they had been; whereupon Dick administered the draught, telling him, still through Jantje, that immediately after taking it he would again fall asleep and so remain until the evening, when he would awake much refreshed and stronger. And while the words were being spoken Dick strongly willed that they should be fulfilled. The man obediently gulped down the draught, Dick gently lowered the patient’s head to the pillow, and again deep sleep fell upon the poor fellow.

“Now,” ordered Dick, “I want two women to come and watch by this man. They must constantly fan him with leaves, to keep him cool and prevent the flies from troubling him; and when he wakes someone must immediately fetch me. I shall be in my tent by the wagon, yonder.” Then, turning to Grosvenor, who had remained at his elbow all the time, he said:

“No more trekking for us to-day, Phil, or for the next week, I expect. I must stay, and pull this poor chap through, if I can, now that I have taken him in hand.”

“Oh yes! rather; of course; that goes without saying,” cheerfully assented Grosvenor. “But, I say, Dick, old chap,” he continued, “you have astonished me to-day, fairly taken my breath away; I hadn’t the slightest notion that you were such a swell at your profession as you have just proved yourself to be. Never saw anything like it in my life before, y’know, and couldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it. Why, I wouldn’t have given three ha’pence for that Kafir’s life when I first set eyes upon him; but now, dash it all, I believe you’re going to set him on his feet again. If you do, your fame will spread far and wide through the country, and do us a lot of good. But, I say, it was a jolly lucky thing for you that the poor chap dropped off into that sound sleep just when he did, eh? Because it enabled you to do several things that, it seems to me, you couldn’t possibly have done had he remained awake. What puzzles me is that he continued to sleep all through it. And I noticed that you didn’t seem to worry in the least about whether you awoke him or not. I suppose it was sleep, was it not?”

“Oh yes!” answered Dick airily; “it was sleep, right enough; nothing in the nature of swoon about it, if that is what you mean. But now, what about those lions? My patient will sleep for several hours to come, and I can quite well leave him. It is now,”—consulting his watch—“only a few minutes past eleven o’clock, and we ought to be able to organise the hunt and bag the beasts comfortably before tiffin. Are you game?”

“You bet I am, rather!” responded Grosvenor. “It is just what I was itching to suggest, but I thought it would seem callous to propose that you should leave your patient, and it would not have been sporting to have proposed to go off alone, leaving you behind.”

“Oh, that is all right!” returned Dick confidently; “my patient will not need me for hours yet, so let us see about it at once. Where is Jantje?”

Jantje was close at their elbows, and already “putting on side” among the villagers upon the strength of being in the service of an ’mkulu ’mtagati. He stepped forward at the question and answered, with an air of proud humility:

“I’se here, sar. What you please to want?”

“Mr Grosvenor and I are going to have a try for those lions, Jantje, if they are still lurking in the neighbourhood,” observed Dick. “I believe you said that these people report the beasts to be somewhere in yonder clump of bush? Very well. Now, I want a party to enter the bush on the windward side and carefully beat down-wind in order to drive the brutes into the open. Mr Grosvenor and I will place ourselves on the down-wind side of the bush, and if the lions can be induced to break cover we will do our best to bowl them over. We shall also require two steady, reliable men to come with us to carry our spare rifles; but, understand this, they must be men of courage, who will not be scared out of their seven senses and bolt, carrying our rifles off with them, if the lions should show in the open.”

“Yes, sar,” answered Jantje, “I understan’ you puffekly. You leave everyt’ing to me, sar; I arrange it all, jus’ as you wish. An’ I will come wid you myself, sar, to carry gun. I am a brabe man, sar; no pusson in dhis worl’ more brabe as me; you shall see, sar.”

“Very well,” answered Dick, suppressing a smile at the Hottentot’s vainglorious boast; “you, being so exceedingly brave and reliable shall go with Mr Grosvenor; but you must pick me out a good man to come with me. Just see about it, will you, and bring the whole party to the wagon, where we are now going to get our rifles.”

Puffed up with the honour of having so important a matter confided to him, the Hottentot saluted, and turned to address the crowd that still hung about the white men awaiting possible further developments, explaining to them what was required. A few words sufficed, and the moment that the white man’s intentions and wishes were understood the crowd dissolved, as if by magic, the men hurrying away to their huts to procure their weapons, while Dick and Grosvenor sauntered away toward the wagon, noting, as they went, that their team of oxen had been driven to a spot where the grass was especially good, close to the banks of the river, and that it was being zealously watched and guarded by a dozen well-grown lads armed with hunting assagais and knobkerries.

Arrived at the wagon, the two friends proceeded to bring forth and don their bandoliers, having first satisfied themselves that the belts were filled with the kind of cartridge required for the particular pattern of weapon which they were about to employ; and then, having taken down and loaded the four rifles which they intended to use, they awaited the arrival of the beating party, conscious now, for the first time, of a peculiar and not altogether pleasant feeling compounded of excitement and—was it “funk”? No, certainly not, for neither of them would have backed out of the adventure on any account; yet, if the sensation was not “funk”, it bore some sort of family resemblance to it, something perhaps, in the nature of stage fright. The fact is that each realised, at nearly the same moment, that they were about to embark upon a perfectly new experience, an adventure in which they were as yet untried, in which courage and the most perfect sangfroid were of the utmost importance, and they were by no means certain how they would emerge from the ordeal. To put it plainly, they were just a little afraid that at the critical moment they might fail to exhibit that superlative coolness and aplomb, the slightest lack of which would cause each to feel for ever humiliated and disgraced in the eyes of the other. Besides, there were the natives, keen of eye, and quick to observe the smallest sign of anything approaching to perturbation; it would be awful beyond words to fail before them! By a curious coincidence the mind of each had been following precisely the same line of thought, and as they saw Jantje approaching, followed by some forty beaters and every mongrel cur belonging to the village, the same resolution came to each—they simply would not disgrace themselves and their colour by displaying the slightest sign of nervousness or trepidation in the eyes of those savages; so, drawing a deep breath, they pulled themselves together and, resolutely dismissing their apprehensions, prepared to do or die.

Proudly leading his party of beaters, the Hottentot approached and, giving a sort of semi-military salute, announced that the villagers but awaited the orders of the white chiefs to proceed. Then, leading forward a tall savage of some thirty-five years of age, of magnificent physique, he introduced the man as Mafuta, the half-brother of the injured man, and informed Dick that he, Mafuta, had specially requested the honour of being allowed to act as gunbearer to his brother’s benefactor on this occasion. Dick ran his eye over the man, noted the splendid development of his thews and sinews, marked several ugly scars on his body and limbs bearing mute testimony to the fact that he had already proved himself a warrior, met his unflinching glance, proud and resolute, yet respectful, and instantly decided that here was a man who might be absolutely trusted. Without hesitation he placed his spare rifle in Mafuta’s hands, explaining to him, through Jantje, exactly what he wished him to do with it; and then issued his final instructions to the beaters, who at once moved off to work round to the windward side of the clump of bush in which the lions were said to be hiding, while Grosvenor and he, followed respectively by Jantje and Mafuta, took their leisurely way toward the points where they intended to station themselves. For a considerable part of the distance they walked together; and when at length they separated, Dick, who somehow seemed to have assumed the direction of affairs as a matter of course, with Grosvenor’s tacit consent and approval, said:

“Now, Phil, anything that may break cover to the right of that baobab, as we stand facing it, belongs to you, while anything that emerges to the left belongs to me, neither of us to interfere with the other’s chances unless the brutes seem likely to get away and make good their escape. And, just one caution, old chap: don’t fire until your quarry has passed out clear of the line of bush, or you may quite unintentionally shoot one of the beaters. Ah! there are the dogs giving tongue; the beaters are putting them into the bush. To your station, old man, and good luck to you!”

“Thanks! same to you, old chap,” cheerily responded Grosvenor, as he wheeled and strode away to the spot fixed upon as his station.

The clump of bush in which the lions were said to have secreted themselves was an isolated one, with nothing in particular to distinguish it from the thousands of other clumps that dotted the visible country, except that one extremity of it abutted upon the edge of a small shallow ravine, through which trickled a tiny rivulet discharging itself into the larger stream which flows through the long valley that intersected the landscape. Close to the spot where the clump of bush touched the edge of the ravine the rivulet flowed into and through a shallow basin of rock, which formed an ideal drinking place for animals; and it was possibly this circumstance that had caused the lions to take up their temporary abode in that particular clump. There was the possibility that the lions, when breaking cover, might attempt to escape by bolting into and up the ravine; and accordingly, when this fact had been pointed out and explained to Dick, he had very unselfishly placed his friend Grosvenor on that side in order that the latter might have the benefit of the most likely chances.

The barking and yelping of the dogs grew steadily louder and more insistent, and to it was presently added the shouts and shrill whistlings of the Kafirs as they forced their way through the thick undergrowth. A few birds flew out with startled cries, but for about a quarter of an hour there was no further result. Then suddenly the dogs burst into a chorus of sharp, savage barks, entirely different in character from their former utterances, and quite sufficient in itself to inform even the veriest novice that game of some sort was afoot; the Kafirs’ cries of encouragement were redoubled; an occasional rustling and crackling of branches became audible to the intent watchers. Presently there arose a terrific outburst of furious snarlings, growls, and yappings, intermingled with the violent swishing and crackling of dry leaves and twigs, evidence conclusive that a fight was proceeding in the heart of the bush. Then the sudden, sharp, agonised pow-wow of a dog in pain rang out, accompanied by a horrible sound of worrying; a still further increase of the hubbub followed, then a heavy crashing of bushes, and out sprang a magnificent tawny-maned lion into the open. He broke into view immediately opposite to Dick, and not more than twenty yards distant, stopping dead as he sighted the lad standing rifle in hand, with Mafuta like a bronze statue behind him. As the splendid beast stood at gaze, with blazing eyes, and his tail switching in short, angry jerks from side to side, the feeling of anxiety and nervousness that had been oppressing Dick seemed to drop from him like a garment. In an instant he became absolutely cool, steady, and self-possessed, and lifting his rifle to his shoulder with a lightning-like movement, while the sights of the weapon seemed to line themselves of their own volition upon the centre of the beast’s broad forehead, right between the eyes, he pressed the trigger. There was a flash, a sharp, whip-like report, a faint puff of smoke, and the lion dropped stone dead where he stood.

Meanwhile the hubbub in the bush was raging even more fiercely than ever, showing that the beast which had just fallen to Dick’s rifle had not been the cause of it, and that the sport was by no means over. Dick’s weapon was a magazine rifle, and with a quick movement he jerked another cartridge into position, just as the uproar grew so loud and near at hand that it became evident another break was imminent.

The next instant it occurred. A splendid lioness, carrying a small cub in her mouth, crashed into the open, with a dozen or more yapping and snarling curs at her heels. She broke cover well on Grosvenor’s side of the baobab; and, like the lion, came to an abrupt halt as soon as she saw Grosvenor, straight toward whom she was charging. In an instant the white man’s rifle leapt to his shoulder, and the next instant he fired. But even as he pressed the trigger, a dog, more valiant or more foolhardy than the rest, dashed in upon her, and with the rapidity of lightning she turned to meet his rush, dropping her cub, and nearly tearing the miserable cur’s head from his shoulders with a single stroke of her powerful fore paw. At the same instant Grosvenor’s bullet, aimed at her head, crashed into her flank, passing right through it and utterly paralysing her hind quarters. With a whining, snarling roar the poor beast rolled over on her side, but instantly recovered herself so far as to raise herself on her fore legs—between which the cub, but a trifle bigger than a well-grown cat, took refuge—her jaws champing and foaming, and her eyes blazing lightnings at the dogs, which, recognising her helplessness, closed in round her.

“Save the cub!” shouted Dick; “don’t let the dogs worry it; I want to keep the little beast alive.” And, leaving his position, he hurried forward, regardless of danger, to beat off the dogs. Grosvenor and Jantje also rushed forward at his shouts, and were quickly joined by Mafuta, who seemed to divine what Dick required. Dashing fearlessly in among the snarling and snapping dogs, the Kafir and the Hottentot at length succeeded in beating them off, upon which Grosvenor stepped close up to the lioness and gave her the coup de grace by sending a bullet through her brain. As she rolled over dead, Mafuta sprang in and grabbed the cub by the skin of the neck, despite the fact that it snarled and spat like an angry cat and struck out viciously with its claws, which were already strong enough to inflict quite a painful scratch, and carried it off to the wagon, tying it to a wheel by a stout reim.

Having ensured the safety of the cub, Dick, carrying his own and the spare rifle which he had snatched from Mafuta, hurried back to the point which he had so hurriedly deserted; for the commotion in the heart of the bush clearly evidenced the fact that the remaining members of the troop of lions still clung to cover, and that the beaters and dogs were doing their utmost to dislodge them. Laying the spare rifle at his feet, Dick stood facing the great clump, with the rifle in his hand at the ready, prepared for any emergency. The noise and confusion, however, seemed to indicate that the next event would occur in the area under Grosvenor’s jurisdiction, and, sure enough, about a minute later another lion and lioness broke cover together, followed by the remainder of the dogs. The noble beasts, both of which were apparently young animals, and but barely full-grown, evidently intended to make for fresh cover in the ravine, but, finding Grosvenor blocking the way, came to a sudden halt, upon which the dogs instantly gathered round them, yapping and snarling furiously, while individual members made sudden feints of dashing in, only to retreat precipitately with their tails between their legs as the infuriated beasts turned this way and that to meet the rush.

The crowding, clamouring dogs, with their quick rushes, and the incessant twists and turns of the regal pair to meet those rushes, were anything but conducive to good shooting, and Grosvenor, with rifle to shoulder, held his fire, watching for a favourable opportunity. Suddenly it came: a dog more venturesome than the rest sprang at the lion, and was caught by him. Planting both his front paws on the body of the unhappy cur, the lion stood for a moment glaring at his foes, and in that moment Grosvenor pulled trigger, the bullet striking the great beast full in his massive chest. For perhaps a quarter of a minute the lion stood absolutely motionless, his eyes blazing defiance; then he suddenly collapsed, and, with a half-whine, half-roar, slowly rolled over on his side, his great head sank to earth, his limbs stretched themselves stiffly out, and with a violent shudder he yielded up his life.

Grosvenor chose this moment to inject a fresh cartridge into the chamber of his rifle. But something went wrong with the weapon, and while he was still fidgeting with it, forgetful of the fact that Jantje was standing behind him with a second rifle, fully charged, in his hand, the lioness, with a mighty, snarling roar that sent the dogs scuttling in all directions, crouched with the evident intention of springing upon the slayer of her lord. For a moment Dick, who was interestedly watching the scene, took no action, for, according to the arrangement come to between them, the lioness belonged of right to Grosvenor. Then, realising that his friend was in peril, he shouted excitedly:

“Shoot, Phil, shoot, or the brute will be upon you!” at the same time lifting his own weapon to his shoulder.

“Can’t,” returned Grosvenor, still struggling with his rifle; “the beastly thing’s—”

Crack! Dick instantly pressed the trigger; and as he did so the lioness rose into the air with a curious writhing movement, falling short of the spot where Grosvenor stood by about a foot. As she fell she rolled headlong, but instantly recovered herself, standing upon three legs, with the fourth broken close to the shoulder, while Grosvenor, stepping back hurriedly in the long grass to avoid her, was tripped up and fell flat upon his back. Fearing that, despite her broken leg, the lioness might spring upon his prostrate friend and badly maul him, Dick impetuously sprang forward, injecting a new cartridge as he ran, but stopped short, convulsed with laughter, at the sight of his friend, his long legs flourishing in the air, rolling with frantic energy out of the reach of the lioness. Then, as Grosvenor finally scrambled to his feet, minus his rifle, which he had dropped during his hurried retreat—while Jantje had incontinently bolted, carrying Grosvenor’s second rifle with him, as the lioness sprang—Dick again levelled his piece and bowled the great tawny brute over with a bullet behind the ear, which penetrated the brain.

Thus satisfactorily terminated the adventurers’ first experience with big game, each of the sportsmen bagging a lion and lioness, while the cub might be regarded as the joint property of the two. A very satisfactory feature of the day’s sport was that nobody had received so much as a scratch, the actual casualties amounting to two Kafir dogs slain. As for the Kafirs, they fell upon the carcasses and with incredible rapidity and skill stripped off the hides and pegged them out preparatory to treating them in the native fashion, afterwards removing the heads and carefully depositing each in the near vicinity of an ants’ nest, in order that the insects might remove—as they very speedily would—every atom of flesh from the bones. Then, having rendered this service to the champions who had delivered them from their formidable enemies, they departed, dancing, to the village, singing a triumphant song to the glory of the white men, in which each incident of the recent hunt was graphically described with appropriate gesture.

Chapter Seven.

The Makolo Country.

A full week was spent by the travellers among those friendly villagers, during which Dick Maitland assiduously tended the wounded man, who by the end of that time, thanks in part to his own healthy flesh and blood, the result of simple, frugal living, and, more largely, to the young doctor’s skilful treatment, had advanced so far toward recovery that nature might safely be left to complete the cure. The week had been not altogether unprofitably spent in other respects, the two white men assiduously devoting themselves, with Mafuta’s assistance, to the study of the native language, varied occasionally, on Dick’s part, by a little botanising—during which he discovered some half a dozen plants that seemed to possess valuable properties—and the taming of the lion cub, which, after the first two or three days of captivity, responded with ever-growing alacrity to his young master’s advances, until by the end of six weeks he had learned to answer to the name of Leo, to come at Dick’s call or whistle, and, in short, had become as tame as a dog. This result, and the gentleness of disposition which Leo manifested, Dick attributed largely to the fact that the animal was never allowed to taste blood, or raw flesh of any kind, his food—after a milk diet for the first three weeks of his captivity—consisting entirely of well-roasted flesh.

The natives witnessed the preparations for the departure of their white friends with every manifestation of sincere regret, assisting to drive up and inspan the oxen, presenting a fine milch cow for Leo’s especial benefit, as well as quantities of mealies, bananas, and other garden produce, warning the travellers of various difficulties and dangers that lurked on the next hundred miles or so of their route, and carefully instructing them how they might best be avoided, and in many other ways making plain the sorrow with which they bade them farewell. Finally, when the oxen were inspanned and the wagon was on the very point of moving off, Mafuta, who had hitherto been missing, presented himself in full marching order, armed with shield, assagais, and knobkerrie, with plumed head-dress, and cows’ tails bound about his legs below the knees, and curtly informed Dick that it was his fixed intention to join the party! Although both Dick and Grosvenor did their utmost to dissuade him, by representing to him the great length and exceeding danger of the journey upon which they were bound, and the possibility that they might never return, it was all of no avail, he alternately insisted and entreated, declaring that he wanted no wages or reward of any kind. Dick had pulled his brother back out of the grave, and he felt it to be his duty, as well as his pleasure, to devote himself henceforward to the service of the white man who had done this wonderful thing; and finally, when Dick, loath to take the man away from his kith and kin, definitely refused to take him, the Kafir countered by saying, in effect: “Very well; the veldt is free to all, and if you will not permit me to join your party, I can at least follow you at a distance, and be at hand whenever you require my services.” After which, of course, there was no more to be said, and Mafuta was allowed to have his own way, to the great joy of his brethren of the village.

Nor was it very long before the travellers had abundant reason to congratulate themselves upon their decision in this respect, for Mafuta not only proved to be a most intelligent and devoted servant, but also a splendid guide, knowing the exact localities of the various streams and waterholes on their route, as far as the Zambezi, also the most favourable crossing places, where the best grass and the most game were to be found, and, most important of all, perhaps, the exact boundaries of the fly country. Indeed but for this last knowledge it is almost certain that in their anxiety to take the shortest possible cuts they would probably have lost practically all their cattle, and thus have been obliged to bring their adventure to a premature end.

On their ninth day out from Mafuta’s village they struck the Hanyani River, without meeting with any adventure worthy of record, and following its right bank for a couple of days, bore away in an easterly direction, skirting the northern slope of Mount Inyota, where they struck another small stream flowing to the northward and eastward; and as this was, broadly speaking, the direction in which they wished to travel, and as Mafuta assured them that it discharged into the Zambezi, they decided to follow it, and did so, finding eventually that it united its flow with another stream, which they followed, still without any particular adventure save such as daily occurred while hunting; and three weeks from the day on which Mafuta joined them the travellers found themselves gazing with delight upon the broad bosom of the Zambezi, its waters sparkling in the golden light of the westering sun.

Here again Mafuta’s knowledge proved to be of the utmost value, for he was able to guide the party to a spot where the river was fordable, and where they succeeded in effecting a crossing that same evening before sunset. Once safely arrived on the left bank of the river, Grosvenor and Dick decided to camp for a few days, in order to give the oxen a rest, the grass being good. Also there was a small native village a few miles higher upstream, where canoes and their crews might be hired, and within easy paddling distance of which there was a spot where hippopotami still abounded, affording a prospect of good sport, of which Grosvenor was particularly anxious to avail himself. Accordingly, while the Hottentot Jantje, and ’Nkuku, the Kafir voorlouper, remained in charge of the wagon and oxen, Ramoo Samee, the groom, accompanied his masters to the native village, to look after the horses and attend to the cooking while his employers shot hippopotami and crocodiles from the two canoes which they chartered; Mafuta, meanwhile, taking four days’ rations, and going off upon a prospecting expedition in search of elephant and buffalo. Three days at this village sufficed to provide the hunters with more trophies than they cared to encumber themselves with, while the natives enjoyed a record feast of hippopotamus flesh; and on the fourth morning Dick and Grosvenor returned on horseback to the wagon, while Ramoo Samee, in charge of the spoils, was conveyed down the river to the same spot in a canoe manned by the grateful natives. They found the cattle all right, and visibly improved by their three days’ rest, while Leo, the lion cub, welcomed Dick’s return with almost embarrassing demonstrations of affection. Late that same evening Mafuta also returned, with the intelligence that although he had not actually seen either elephants or buffaloes, he had obtained, from natives whom he had encountered, intelligence of a large herd of the former at a distance of four days’ trek from the river. He also reported the natives to be quite friendly disposed and willing to allow the white men to traverse their particular section of country. Everything thus appearing favourable, on the following morning the oxen were once more inspanned, and the journey resumed.

Then ensued a long trek extending over a period of more than two months, including a day’s halt here and there to rest the oxen, or to indulge in a little hunting, during which they enjoyed excellent sport among elephants, buffaloes, lions, leopards, giraffe, veldebeeste, zebra, ostriches, and the various species of buck to be found in the southern portion of the great African Continent; so rapidly, indeed, did their spoils accumulate that at length they could no longer find room for them in the wagon, and were glad to avail themselves of the opportunity afforded by their arrival at a particularly friendly village to leave everything of the kind, including some eighteen hundred pounds of ivory, in charge of the villagers.

Of the last three weeks of this long trek, nine days were consumed in forced marches through sterile country, bordering a wide and—according to Mafuta—utterly impassable desert, during which both water and grass were so exceedingly scarce that the entire party suffered terrible privation, no game of any kind being seen, where more than half the oxen died, while the remainder were reduced to such a miserable condition that they were scarcely able to drag the now more than half-empty wagon. Presently the character of the country gradually changed, a water-hole or two were found, with small patches of fairly nutritious grass growing round them, and as soon as a favourable spot was reached the wagon was outspanned and the oxen allowed a couple of days’ holiday in which to rest and recuperate. Then Grosvenor and Dick, mounting their horses, which had been spared as much as possible during the preceding ten days, set off with their rifles in search of game, and eventually succeeded in finding and shooting a pair of bush buck wherewith to replenish their larder.

At the end of the second day’s rest Mafuta—who had by this time completely won the confidence of the two leaders of the expedition, and had attained rather to the position of a humble comrade than a mere follower—gave it as his opinion that the oxen had now sufficiently recovered to justify the party in resuming their journey; and accordingly on the following morning the animals were once more inspanned. Dick and Grosvenor had already seen enough of the surrounding country during their two days’ foraging expedition to have come to the conclusion that conditions would now improve with every mile of progress, and this conclusion was fully borne out by their first day’s experiences, the country gradually becoming more hilly and broken, with small watercourses occurring at steadily decreasing intervals, with more and richer grass at every mile of their progress, until by the end of the day they once more found themselves in a district that might fairly be termed fertile, while a few head of game—bucks and a brace of paow (a kind of bustard)—had been seen. All this was exceedingly encouraging to the two explorers, for their experiences thus far—with one very important exception—had been in strict accordance with Menzies’ story, as repeated to them by their friend Mitchell, and confirmed them in the conviction that at length they had arrived within measurable distance of the spot where, according to the account given by the former, the ruins of ancient Ophir still existed in recognisable form. The exception referred to consisted in the fact that whereas, according to Menzies, the Makolo nation, upon whose territory they had now entered, were exceedingly jealous of all intrusion—Menzies himself having escaped a frightful death at their hands by the very skin of his teeth—they had thus far met with no molestation whatever; which, however, might possibly be accounted for by the fact that thus far they had seen no natives.

But this state of affairs was not to last much longer; for on the third day of their resumed trek, by which time they had reached a somewhat rugged, well-wooded stretch of country, watered by numerous streams, upon surmounting a ridge they sighted a native village, some three miles ahead, surrounded by well-cultivated fields which, upon their nearer approach, the travellers found to consist chiefly of maize and tobacco, with here and there a patch of sugar cane, or a small fruit orchard. Soon afterwards they encountered a large herd of cattle in charge of about a dozen native lads, one of whom, upon sighting the strangers, took to his heels and ran, as though for his life, to an eminence at no great distance, where, placing his hands funnelwise to his mouth, he began to shout, in a peculiar, high-pitched tone of voice, a brief communication of some sort to some unseen person or persons. At the same time one of the other lads, after intently scrutinising the newcomers for several minutes, advanced cautiously toward them and finally halted—evidently holding himself ready to bolt at the slightest suspicious sign—and, raising his sheaf of assagais in his right hand by way of salute, shouted the single word:

“Bietu!”

The word was evidently a variant of the Zulu Biete, the form of salutation addressed to a great chief, and, so construing it, Mafuta at once placed his shield and weapons in the wagon and, advancing rapidly, proceeded to address the lad in good Zulu. The stranger, however, although it was evident that he caught the meaning of a word here and there, seemed unable to grasp the sense of Mafuta’s communication in its entirety, whereupon the latter made a second attempt, this time using a sort of dialect or corruption of the true Zulu tongue; and was now more successful, quite a long interchange of conversation ensuing, at the termination of which the stranger turned and ran to the before-mentioned eminence, from the summit of which he shouted, in the same high-pitched voice as his predecessor, a communication of very considerable length, while Mafuta returned to the wagon.

“Well, Mafuta, what is the news?” demanded Dick, as the Kaffir approached.

“The news, Chief, is good,” answered Mafuta, saluting. “We have arrived within the borders of the Makolo country; and the word of the ’mfana who spoke with me is that it will be wise of my fathers to outspan at the first suitable halting place until the will of the king regarding them be made known. The Makolo do not approve of strangers entering their country, it would appear; but their objection no longer applies to white men, to whom the Spirits of the Winds have commanded that all kindness be shown, should such ever visit the Makolo country. News of our arrival has already been sent forward to Lobelalatutu, the king; and his will concerning us will be made known as soon as it comes; but, meanwhile, Matemba, the ’mfana who spoke with me, advises that we outspan until that will be made known.”

“Um!” remarked Dick; “that does not sound altogether promising, eh, Phil? Seems to indicate that there may possibly be difficulties put in the way of our penetrating the country, doesn’t it? What did you say to the ’mfana Mafuta?”

“I said,” answered Mafuta, “that the two white men, my chiefs, had come from afar across the Great Water to visit Lobelalatutu, the King of the great Makolo nation, to offer presents, and to request his permission to examine the ruins of the great city of which they had heard.”

“Yes, of course; I suppose that was the correct diplomatic way in which to put the matter,” remarked Dick. “And what said Matemba in reply?”

“He said,” answered Mafuta, “that doubtless the king, remembering the commands laid upon him by the Spirits of the Winds, upon the occasion of their last visit to the country in their great glittering ship which flies through the air, would gladly permit my chiefs to visit the ruins, even as the Spirits themselves had done.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Dick; “that sounds better. But,”—turning to Grosvenor—“I wonder what the fellow means by the ‘glittering ship which flies through the air’—and the ‘Spirits of the Winds’? Can it be possible that an airship has ever penetrated so far as this? Stop a minute—let me think. ‘Spirits of the Winds—glittering ship which flies’—by Jove! can it be possible? I thought, when I heard the expression ‘Spirits of the Winds’ that it sounded not altogether unfamiliar, that I had met with it before, in fact; and now that I come to overhaul my memory I very distinctly remember reading a yarn describing the adventures of some people who possessed a wonderful airship in which they made the most extraordinary voyages and met with some astounding experiences—”

“Yes,” interrupted Grosvenor; “I know the book you mean. I, too, read it. But I took it to be fiction, pure and simple; a somewhat daring flight of a novelist’s imagination. And now that you have reminded me of the yarn I distinctly remember that the four fellows in the story were described as having visited these same ruins of Ophir that we are hunting for—”

“Yes,” cut in Dick, “that is so. And, if I remember aright, they met with some rather exciting adventures among these Makolo, didn’t they?”

“Rather!” assented Grosvenor. “Were taken prisoners, or something of that sort, and only escaped by the skin of their teeth.”

“That’s it,” agreed Dick. “Yes; the man who was then king wanted to steal their airship, didn’t he?”

“He did—and got banished for his pains,” answered Grosvenor. “But that was not the end of the story. He—the king, I mean—returned from his banishment, killed the king who was reigning in his stead, and—yes, was found practising his old dodges of cruelty and murder when the ‘Spirits’ paid a second visit to his country.”

“Precisely,” agreed Dick. “But that part of the story was given in a second book recounting the further voyagings of the wonderful Flying-Fish—that was the name of the airship, you will remember. By Jove! How vividly those yarns recur to one’s memory when anything special—like this adventure of ours—occurs to recall them. Do you know, Phil, it now seems to me that, quite unconsciously to ourselves, those two books have had a distinct influence upon us in undertaking and carrying through this journey?”

“Possibly,” agreed Grosvenor; “though I am obliged to admit that I have been, and am still, quite unconscious of it. The point that is of real importance to us is this. Had the narratives in those two books the slightest foundation of fact? Because, if so, our recollection of them might stand us in good stead should difficulties arise between us and these people. Take, for example, the matter of the four Spirits of the Winds. If we were to judiciously exhibit some knowledge of them and their doings, this king might be inclined to be a great deal more complaisant than he otherwise would be. Don’t you think so?”

“Perhaps,” conceded Dick; “it is impossible to say. But what knowledge do we possess, or can we exhibit? Absolutely none, except what we can remember through the perusal of those two books. And, for my own part, I am inclined to believe that the alleged adventures of the four persons therein referred to were purely fictitious, or at least had no more than the slenderest connection with actual fact.”

“Yet,” contended Grosvenor, “it is remarkable, to say the least of it, that in our very first communication with these Makolo—which, now I come to think of it, was the actual name of the nation given in those books—the four Spirits of the Winds should be mentioned. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, it certainly is,” agreed Dick, somewhat reluctantly. “And of course,” he continued, “if it should happen that those two yarns are a record of actual occurrences presented in the guise of fiction, it will not be by any means the first time that such a thing has occurred. Anyhow,” he concluded, “I do not see that we can possibly do any harm by acting, as you suggest, upon the assumption that the yarns, however extravagant they may have appeared to us when we read them, are records of actual fact, and using our recollection of them in any manner that may seem advantageous to us. Is that agreed?”

“Yes, certainly,” assented Grosvenor. “We can but try it, and see how it works. And now, to change the subject, what say you about outspanning? This seems to be a good spot, eh?”

During the foregoing conversation the two speakers had been walking on ahead of the wagon, with their rifles in the hollow of their arms, the dogs and Leo, the lion cub, trotting amicably at their heels. They had arrived at a spot about a mile from the village, and were now traversing an open “flat” with plenty of grass, close to the margin of a small stream. As Grosvenor had suggested, it was an excellent spot upon which to outspan, for there were grass and water for the cattle, and it was sufficiently far away from the village to prevent any of those annoyances that a nearer approach might have subjected them to; they therefore halted, and when the wagon came up the order to outspan was given. A few minutes later, while Jantje and ’Nkuku were superintending the watering of the oxen, some half-dozen women, carrying baskets poised upon their heads, were seen approaching from the village. When, somewhat later, these women arrived at the wagon, the leader of them announced that the contents of the baskets, consisting of green mealie cobs, sugar cane, eggs, sweet potatoes, half a dozen shockingly skinny chickens, milk, and joala (a kind of native beer) were a present from the headman of the village to the strangers. (Six months earlier the travellers would have laughed incredulously at the idea of liquids being conveyed in baskets; but now they took it quite as a matter of course, for they had by this time grown quite familiar with the native basket, so exquisitely woven out of grass as to be quite impervious to leakage). They accepted the gift with a few words—but not too many—of thanks, and then, desirous of creating a good impression upon the Makolo as early as might be, they directed the women to wait, and, going to the wagon, took from their store of “notions” a few yards of gaudily printed cotton stuff, two or three yards of brass wire, half a dozen empty two-ounce tobacco tins decorated with gilt and coloured lettering, in the style familiar to all devotees of the weed, a small wooden box containing about a pint of mixed beads, and to each of the smiling and expectant basket-bearers a special present for herself, consisting of a necklet of large particoloured beads, the remaining gifts being of course for the headman in return for his present. The necklets Dick and Grosvenor personally clasped round the shapely, bronze-tinted throats of the recipients, to the intense delight of the latter, and then the damsels took their departure, smiling to such an extent as to display every tooth in their heads. Presently, when they were a few yards from the wagon, they burst into song, the burden of their lay being the magnificent generosity, enormous wealth, and splendid personality of the visitors.

About an hour before sunset that same day another party made its appearance, approaching from the village. On this occasion it consisted of men only, some twenty in number, which, upon their arrival at the wagon, proved to be the headman of the village and his retinue, all unarmed.

The party halted at a distance of some ten paces from the spot where Dick and Grosvenor sat before their open tent, and as they did so, with the precision of trained soldiers, every man’s right hand was flung aloft, and in deep, sonorous tones the salute was given:

“Bietu!”

Then the headman stepped forward and said, Mafuta standing by to act as interpreter:

“I, Insimbi, headman of the village of M’gama, in the country of the Makolo, bear the greetings of the great King Lobelalatutu to the unknown white men who have crossed the Great Water to visit him, to offer him gifts, and to request his permission to visit the ruins of the great city that are situate near the king’s village. He bids you welcome to the country of the Makolo, and his word is that you are to be conducted forthwith in all honour to his presence. You are his guests, to be treated by all men as such, and by them to be supplied with all things necessary to your comfort and wellbeing. Your oxen are poor in condition and few in number, therefore shall they be cared for here until they are again fit for work; meanwhile a fresh team shall be supplied from the herd belonging to this village for the conveyance of your wagon to the ruins you desire to visit. And if there be any other thing that you desire, my orders are to furnish it to you. I have said. Is it well, O white men?”

“It is very well, O Insimbi,” answered Grosvenor. “It is well for the Makolo and for your king that he keeps fresh in his memory the commands laid upon him by the four Spirits of the Winds, and we are satisfied. When can we be supplied with the fresh team of oxen?”

“At sunrise to-morrow shall the herd be driven hither, when my lords shall choose for themselves as many as they will,” answered the headman.

“Let it be so,” answered Grosvenor; “for to-morrow at sunrise will we resume our journey to the king’s village and the ruins. By the way, ask him, Mafuta, how far the ruins are from here.”

“With a full team of fourteen fresh oxen it may be done in seven days,” Mafuta translated Insimbi’s answer to the question.

“Seven days!” ejaculated Grosvenor, glancing in astonishment at Dick. “Then how the dickens has this fellow Insimbi contrived in the course of a single day to communicate with the king and get a reply from him?”

“Why, easily enough,” answered Dick. “Don’t you remember the wonderful system of voice-telegraphy mentioned in those two books that we were discussing to-day? That, of course, is how it has been accomplished. And, now that I come to think of it, we had an illustration of that system this morning when those two boys ran to the top of yonder hill and started shouting in that queer, high-pitched tone of voice. They were telegraphing to the king the news of our arrival without a doubt.”

“Yes,” assented Grosvenor, a little doubtfully, “I suppose that was it. But seven days’ trek with fresh oxen! That means a hundred and forty miles, or thereabout—it is wonderful!”

“You are right; it is,” agreed Dick; “but not more wonderful, to my mind, than that we, destined, as one may say, to make this trip together, should have both been fortunate enough to stumble across and read those two books, which I am now beginning to understand were records of sober fact instead of extravagant fiction, as we both thought them to be. We must certainly polish up our recollection of what we read, for it is not at all difficult to imagine circumstances in which the knowledge may be of vital import to us. By the way, Mafuta, tell those fellows that they are dismissed, and that all we shall require of them to-morrow, in addition to the oxen, will be a guide.”