THE GREAT REWARD
Challis shuddered with horror as he realised how narrow Royce's
escape had been. A moment later, and Royce must have been dashed
from his footing on the staple by the massive form of Goruba, and
have fallen, like him, to the bottom of the well.
"Hurry up, Tom! What are you so long about, man?" Royce asked.
Challis leant over the coping.
"All right," he said, conscious that his voice was shaking. "Just a
minute."
Pulling himself together, he set his foot on the first staple and
began to descend very slowly, not daring to look down into the black
depths. He reached the hole in the wall, struck a match, lit a
candle end he had in his pocket, and followed Royce into the tunnel.
"What's up?" asked Royce. "You're as white as a sheet. Surely that
little bit of a climb didn't make you dizzy?"
"No, I'm all right. Goruba's gone!"
"Gone? What do you mean? Of course he's gone."
"Down the well," said Challis, almost in a whisper. "He was climbing
up with a knife. I went for him, and he fell."
For a moment Royce was speechless with astonishment. Then he said:
"But I don't understand. Where did he come from? He didn't pass me.
Are you sure it was Goruba?"
"Certain. It was horrible."
"Poor old chap! Look here, you're shaken. Rest a bit while I go
down. Perhaps the fellow isn't much hurt."
He took the candle from Challis's hand and went carefully down by the
staples to the bottom of the well. There, huddled in a pool of
water, lay all that was left of the gigantic negro. He was quite
dead. It was clear that in his descent he had struck the stone slab
projecting into the well. His neck was broken.
Awed by this strange tragedy, puzzled at the presence of Goruba here,
Royce climbed up again and rejoined his friend.
"The poor wretch is dead," he said. "What an extraordinary fatality!
He must have been in the darkness below. But what could he have been
doing there?"
Together they sat on the stone floor with the candle between them.
For some time neither spoke.
"I see part of the explanation," said Challis at last. "When he
escaped from us he must have guessed that we should continue the
pursuit, and slipped back at full speed to secure his treasure, or
some of it, in our absence."
"The ruling passion!" said Royce. "Yes, that's it. But still I
don't understand why he was down the well. If I had met him in the
tunnel, now, there would have been no mystery about it."
"Perhaps he was in the room above, saw us coming, and came down to be
out of our way."
"Ah! and to follow us through the tunnel and stab us in the back.
That's it, to a certainty. Your going back for the matches saved our
lives, Tom."
"We've a lot to be thankful for," said Challis.
"We have indeed! ... Now for Rabeh's hoard, old man."
They went along the tunnel, found the slab in the floor, lifted it,
and made their way into the cave. Challis gasped when he saw the
immense array of tusks.
"They are worth a fortune," he said. "No wonder Goruba wanted to
drive us out."
"He has been moving things!" exclaimed Royce. "That row at the end
there isn't as I left it. At least a dozen tusks are gone. I wonder
what he has done with them. Let us go on to the farther entrance."
But halfway through the narrow tunnel beyond they found the path
blocked. From floor to roof the tunnel was choked with a mass of
earth, plants, and trees.
"The roof has fallen in," said Royce, scanning the obstruction by the
light of the candle. "Things are becoming clearer. Look! Here's a
tusk. Goruba must have been carrying it, or lugging it, for it's
tremendously heavy, when the ground above sank. That accounts for
his being at the other end. We shall have to go back, enter from the
wood, and get our men to clear the rubbish away."
They retraced their steps, and rejoining their men, led a party of
them into the wood.
"Here's a horse tethered!" cried Challis. "I wonder if it is
Gamba's."
He sent Gambaru back to fetch the man, who the moment he caught sight
of the horse yelled with delight, threw his arms round the animal's
neck, and allowed it to rub its nose over his back. Then he sprang
into the saddle.
"Not so fast," cried Royce, catching at the bridle. "Tell him I
can't let him go yet, Gambaru. We must have a talk first. Keep him
safe until I have time to attend to him."
He took the men on to the concealed entrance. Goruba had patiently
removed the material with which it had been blocked up. Leading the
men to the spot where the subsidence had occurred, Royce ordered them
to clear away the rubbish and then report to him.
"Now we must find the tusks he removed," he said to Challis. "I
daresay they are hidden somewhere in the undergrowth."
But though a hundred men spent hours in searching the wood, no trace
of the tusks was discovered. It was not until later in the day that
the mystery was solved. Some of the negroes, who had gone down to
the stream to fetch water for their evening meal, came running back
in great excitement. They had seen two long, yellow tusks gleaming
through the water. Royce at once went to the stream with a number of
Hausas, who hauled out the tusks, and after searching for some time
found ten others concealed under the bank.
Meanwhile the tunnel had been cleared, and Challis superintended the
men as they brought the whole treasure out into the open air. Some
of them knew that the ivory was very valuable, others were more
interested in the useless objects, like the kepi, a rusty sword or
two, and particularly a gilt mirror, in which they examined their
smiling features with great delight.
When the cave was cleared, Royce put John in charge of the treasure
and sent for Gamba.
"I am going to let you return to your chief," he said. "You will
take him a message from me. Goruba is dead. He lies at the bottom
of the well in the fort. Your people may fetch him, if they will.
He coveted this treasure, which was stolen, I have no doubt, by his
master Rabeh. It is now mine.
"You will tell your chief all that has happened, how we have beaten
his men in fair fight, how their man Goruba has met his death through
greed. You will tell him that we will fight his men again if they
come to this side of the Yo. These people are no longer afraid of
the Tubus. They mean to be left in peace. Tell your chief that.
"We have taken some forty Tubus prisoners. We shall keep them until
your chief sends word that he will do as I say, and keep his men from
raiding on this side of the river. The country here belongs to the
Great White King, and if your people do wrong again, the Great White
King will send men with big medicine to punish you. Now you may go,
and remember my words."
Gambaru translated this solemnly, sentence by sentence, and Gamba
listened gravely. When he had permission to go, he leapt upon his
horse, gave a shrill whistle, and galloped away to the north.
"I hope the Tubus have learnt their lesson," said Royce to Challis.
"Now what are we to do with this ivory? I suppose it is booty,
fairly won in war, but we ought to go shares with the crowd."
"You mean turn it into money?"
"Yes, though money will be no good to the negroes. The first thing,
at any rate, is to carry it to the coast. I think our Tubu prisoners
might do that for us. We'll sell it, and consult somebody, a
missionary perhaps, as to what we can best do for the people."
"What about the tin mine?"
"Well, we shall simply have to come back again. It's a terrible loss
of time, but, after all, we're in no hurry to be rich, and if we have
managed to secure the peace of this country we shan't regret our
trouble. Don't you agree with me?"
"With all my heart. It's a sort of lesson to us, Hugh. We came out
thinking only of ourselves, and in this strange way we have been led
to think of others. It's a fine thing to have been able to do some
good in the world."
Next day the whole company set off for the south, the Tubus being
laden with the ivory. It was a sort of triumphal progress for the
Englishmen. The tale of their doings had already been carried
through the country, and at every village through which they passed
the people could not do enough to show their gratitude.
The party grew smaller every day as men broke away to rejoin their
own people. When the coast was reached, after weeks of toilsome
marching, the Englishmen had with them only their Hausa boys, the
Tubu prisoners, and a few men from various tribes who clung to them
because they wished to see the strange and wonderful things about
which the Hausas had told them.
The ivory fetched £3000, a sum much in excess of what the Englishmen
had expected. Royce, who had plenty of money, refused to accept any
part of the proceeds for himself. Challis, after some consideration,
decided that £1000 would come in very useful in buying machinery for
his tin mine.
They happened to meet a medical missionary and his wife who had just
arrived from England. To them they handed over £2000 on condition
that they would use it for the good of the natives south of the Yo.
And when, after a month's rest, they returned to the scene of their
adventures, they were accompanied by the missionaries and a new band
of Hausa boys, with John again as headman. The old band felt so rich
on the generous pay they had received that they meant to retire from
business, at least for a time.
John treated them with contempt.
"Plenty silly chaps," he said. "Dey hab got lots of cash; me savvy
all same. What dey do? Spend, spend, spend all time. Bimeby all
gone. What do den, sah? Dey want 'nother massa; no can find one.
Dey go sick. Wah! Me hab got good massa; me savvy all dat, sure
'nuff."
When Royce and Challis were last heard of they were working a rich
tin mine, with two hundred contented negro labourers in their
employment. A little settlement had sprung up in the midst of the
great plain, with two large bungalows, one for Royce and Challis, the
other for the missionary and his wife, and a number of neat grass
huts for the labourers and their families.
The country in their immediate neighbourhood was troubled no more by
the Tubus. A brisk trade grew up between their settlement and the
surrounding villages, and once a year the people for miles around go
in procession to visit the white men, carrying presents for the
strangers who saved them from the raiders and brought peace and
prosperity to the countryside.
THE END
HERBERT STRANG'S STORIES
_SOME OPINIONS_
"I envy the boy or girl who is given a Herbert Strang book.... Mr.
Strang's powers of invention are great. One is hurried along
breathlessly from one adventure to another, till we are left gasping
at the end of the jolly narrative.... Mr. Strang's books are full of
the qualities to which boys--and girls--should aspire. Reading him,
an older, less adventurous person 'lives by admiration.'"--KATHARINE
TYNAN.
"The intellectual level of boys' stories has been materially raised
by Mr. Strang, and at the same time he has infused into them a
stronger human interest than the old writers did. The gain is an
all-round one.... Mr. Strang has brought the boys' story up to the
same level of artistic effort and realisation as the high-class
novel."--JAMES BURNLEY.
"We rejoice to find that among the crowd of money-makers who produce
as if by machinery the standard book for boys, there are still some
who realise that because only a boy is to read a book it need not
therefore be careless, and because the boy will be without experience
the book need not therefore be impossible."--THE OUTLOOK.
"Mr. Strang's books suggest a standard by which very few writers of
boys' books will bear being judged. The majority of them are content
to provide their young friends with mere reading--Herbert Strang
offers them literature."--THE GLASGOW HERALD.
A FEW STIRRING ROMANCES
BY HERBERT STRANG
The Air Patrol
A Story of the North-West Frontier.
Illustrated in colour by CYRUS CUNEO.
In this book Mr. Strang looks ahead--and other books have already
proved him a prophet of surprising skill--to a time when there is a
great Mongolian Empire whose army sweeps down on the North-West
Frontier of India. His two heroes luckily have an aeroplane, and
with the help of a few Pathan miners they hold a pass in the Hindu
Kush against a swarm of Mongols, long enough to prevent the cutting
of the communications of the Indian army operating in Afghanistan.
The qualities which marked Mr. Strang's story, "The Air Scout," and
won extraordinarily high commendation from Lord Roberts, Lord Curzon,
and others, as well as from the _Spectator_ and other great journals,
are again strikingly displayed; and the combination of thrilling
adventure with an Imperial problem and excellent writing, adds one
more to this author's long list of successes.
"An exceptionally good book, written moreover in excellent
style."--_Times_.
"'The Air Patrol' is really a masterpiece."--_Morning Post_.
The Air Scout
A Story of National Defence.
Illustrated in Colour by W. R. S. STOTT.
The problems of National Defence are being discussed with more and
more care and attention, not only in Great Britain, but also in all
parts of the Empire. In this story Mr. Strang imagines a Chinese
descent upon Australia, and carries his hero through a series of
exciting adventures, in which the value of national spirit,
organisation, and discipline is exemplified. The important part
which the aeroplane will play in warfare is recognised, and the
thousands of readers who have delighted in the author's previous
stories of aviation will find this new book after their own heart.
LORD ROBERTS wrote:--"It is capital reading, and should interest more
than boys. Your forecast is so good that I can only hope the future
may not bring to Australia such a struggle as the one you so
graphically describe."
LORD CURZON writes:--"I have read with great pleasure your book, 'The
Air Scout.' It seems to me to be a capital story, full of life and
movement: and further, it preaches the best of all secular gospels,
patriotism and co-operation."
"We congratulate Mr. Strang on this fine book--one of the best
fighting stories we have read."--_Morning Post_.
The Adventures of Dick Trevanion
A story of 1804.
Illustrated in Colour by W. RAINEY, R.I.
The Trevanions are a Cornish family whose fortunes have fallen very
low through the working-out of their tin mines and the scheming of a
relative who bears a grudge against the head of the house. In this
story, dated in the early years of the 19th century, the author
weaves together various strands: the war with Napoleon, the
operations of smugglers, the machinations of the schemer, and the
change in the fortunes of the family which ensued upon various
alarums and excursions.
"This is a story after a boy's heart, treating of smugglers and
family feuds and French privateers."--_Spectator_.
Humphrey Bold:
His Chances and Mischances by Land and Sea.
Illustrated In Colour by W. H. MARGETSON.
In this story are recounted the many adventures that befell Humphrey
Bold of Shrewsbury, from the time when, a puny slip of a boy, he was
befriended by Joe Punchard, the cooper's apprentice (who nearly shook
the life out of his tormentor, Cyrus Vetch, by rolling him down the
Wyle Cop in a barrel), to the day when, grown into a sturdy young
giant, he sailed into Plymouth Sound as first lieutenant of the
_Bristol_ frigate. The intervening chapters teem with exciting
incidents, telling of sea-fights with that redoubtable privateer
Duguay Trouin; of Humphrey's escape from a French prison; of his
voyage to the West Indies and all the perils he encountered there.
"Mr. Strang is undoubtedly the best writer of this class of story
that we have to-day. He has never done anything better than
'Humphrey Bold.'"--_Newcastle Chronicle_.
"Undoubtedly one of the strongest historical stories we ever remember
to have read."--_Schoolmaster_.
Palm Tree Island.
Illustrated in Colour by ARCHIBALD WEBB.
In this story two boys are left on a volcanic island in the South
Seas, destitute of everything but their clothes. The story relates
how they provided themselves with food and shelter, with tools and
weapons; how they fought with wild dogs and sea monsters; and how,
when they have settled down to a comfortable life under the shadow of
the volcano, their peace is disturbed by the advent of savages and a
crew of mutinous Englishmen. The savages are driven away; the
mutineers are subdued through the boys' ingenuity; and they
ultimately sail away in a vessel of their own construction. In no
other book has the author more admirably blended amusement with
instruction.
"Written so well that there is not a dull page in the book."--_The
World_.
Rob the Ranger:
A Story of the Fight for Canada.
With Illustrations in Colour and Maps.
Rob Somers, son of an English settler in New York State, sets out
with Lone Pete, a trapper, in pursuit of an Indian raiding party
which has destroyed his home and carried off his younger brother. He
is captured and taken to Quebec, where he finds his brother in
strange circumstances, and escapes with him in the dead of the
winter, in company with a little band of stout-hearted New Englanders.
General Baden-Powell, in recommending books to the Boy Scouts, places
"Rob the Ranger" first among the great scouting stories.
One of Clive's Heroes
A Story of the Fight for India
With Illustrations in Colour and Maps.
Desmond Burke goes out to India to seek his fortune, and is sold by a
false friend of his, one Marmaduke Diggle, to the famous Pirate of
Gheria. But he escapes, runs away with one of the Pirate's own
vessels, and meets Colonel Clive, whom he assists to capture the
Pirate's stronghold. His subsequent adventures on the other side of
India--how he saves a valuable cargo for his friend Mr. Merriman, and
assists Clive in his fights against Sirajuddaula--are told with great
spirit and humour.
"An absorbing story.... The narrative not only thrills, but also
weaves skilfully out of fact and fiction a clear impression of our
fierce struggle for India."--_Athenæum_.