{Illustration: cover}
SINCLAIR'S LUCK
_BOYS' EMPIRE LIBRARY_
TITLES UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME
----
THE BLUE RIDGE PATROL
_Rowland Walker_
"SCHOOL! SCHOOL!"
_Sydney Horler_
SHANDY OF RINGMERE SCHOOL
_Rowland Walker_
THE FIFTH FORM DETECTIVE
_Rowland Walker_
"PICKLES" OF THE LOWER FIFTH
_Rowland Walker_
TRAPPED IN TRIPOLI!
_Tom Bevan_
SINCLAIR'S LUCK!
_Percy F. Westerman_
JACK ROLLOCK'S ADVENTURES
_Hugh St. Leger_
CAP'N NAT'S TREASURE
_Robert Leighton_
THE SECRET MEN
_Tom Bevan_
THE ADVENTURES OF DON LAVINGTON
_George Manville Fenn_
THE TERROR OF THE TIN MINE
_George Manville Fenn_
----
S. W. PARTRIDGE & Co.
4, 5 & 6 SOHO SQUARE, LONDON, W.1
{Illustration: "SUDDENLY DESMOND FELL WITH A LOUD THUD"
[p.241}
SINCLAIR'S LUCK
A STORY OF ADVENTURE IN
EAST AFRICA
BY
PERCY F. WESTERMAN
AUTHOR OF
"BILLY BARCROFT, OF THE R.N.A.S."
"THE DREADNOUGHT OF THE AIR,"
"THE RIVAL SUBMARINES," ETC., ETC.
{Illustration: logo}
S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO.
4, 5 & 6, SOHO SQUARE, LONDON, W.1
_Readers of the adventures in East Africa of the two heroes, Colin
Sinclair and Tiny Desmond, as narrated in the pages of this book,
will be greatly interested in their school life, before leaving for
the Dark Continent, which is splendidly told in the story entitled
"The Mystery of Stockmere School."_
MADE IN GREAT BRITAIN
_First published 1923_
_Frequently reprinted_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE TWO CHUMS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9
II. "MEETING THE CASE" . . . . . . . . . . . 18
III. FAREWELL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
IV. "REGARDLESS OF THE RISK" . . . . . . . . 30
V. IN THE DITCH--AND OUT . . . . . . . . . 41
VI. VAN DER WYCK'S GIFT . . . . . . . . . . 49
VII. DETAINED AT CAPE TOWN . . . . . . . . . 54
VIII. HELD UP . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
IX. ROBBERY UNDER ARMS . . . . . . . . . . . 66
X. THE MOUNTAIN TRACK . . . . . . . . . . . 71
XI. AT THE EDGE OF THE CHASM . . . . . . . . 80
XII. BESET BY LIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86
XIII. THE MORNING AFTER . . . . . . . . . . . 94
XIV. BY VIRTUE OF THE TALISMAN . . . . . . . 99
XV. AT KILEMBONGA . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106
XVI. SIBENGA'S ENVOYS . . . . . . . . . . . . 112
XVII. THE PLAGUE OF LOCUSTS . . . . . . . . . 121
XVIII. THE AMBUSH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 130
XIX. HOTLY PURSUED . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138
XX. NIPPED IN THE BUD . . . . . . . . . . . 144
XXI. THE OTHER VAN DER WYCK . . . . . . . . . 153
XXII. PALAVER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160
XXIII. THE BULL ELEPHANT . . . . . . . . . . . 167
XXIV. A LUCKY SHOT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175
XXV. MISSING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182
XXVI. A DOUBTFUL CLUE . . . . . . . . . . . . 188
XXVII. THE RAVING OF THE WITCH-DOCTOR . . . . . 195
XXVIII. KIDNAPPED . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 206
XXIX. IN THE HANDS OF THE MAKOH'LENGA . . . . 212
XXX. TO WHAT END . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221
XXXI. THE GOLDEN IMAGE . . . . . . . . . . . . 229
XXXII. AT THE FATAL MOMENT . . . . . . . . . . 238
XXXIII. WHERE THE GOLD WENT . . . . . . . . . . 244
XXXIV. EXPLANATIONS AND SURPRISES . . . . . . . 248
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"SUDDENLY DESMOND FELL WITH A
LOUD THUD" -- -- -- -- -- -- -- _Frontispiece_
_Facing page_
"HE FIRED TWO SHOTS IN QUICK
SUCCESSION" -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- 42
"HIS FOOT CAUGHT IN THE TRAILING
TENDRIL AND HE CRASHED HEAVILY" -- -- -- -- 174
"WE'VE DONE IT, BY JOVE!'" -- -- -- -- -- 230
SINCLAIR'S LUCK
CHAPTER I
THE TWO CHUMS
"MY last term, Tiny, old son," announced Sinclair dismally.
"What? Never!" replied "Tiny" Desmond, who, at the age of sixteen
years and three months, had attained the height of six feet one
inch. "Your last term at Stockmere? You're trying to pull my leg."
"Wish I were," rejoined Colin. "But it's a fact. My governor wrote
to Dr. Narfield a week ago."
"Why?" inquired Desmond, linking arms with his sturdy,
athletically-built chum. "Tell me all about it. Chuck it off your
chest."
It was the first day of the summer term. Stockmere was in a state of
commotion that is usually associated with the commencement of a new
session. There were boys promoted to higher forms, boys remaining in
a state of "as you were," new boys wandering about aimlessly like
strangers in a strange land, fearful the while lest by word or deed
they should transgress the moral and social side of their new
school-fellows. There were boys seeking old chums; boys casting
about for fresh ones. Housemasters and formmasters were discussing
boys; the Head and the Matron were doing likewise. In short, the
topic was "Boys."
"Let's get out of this crush," continued Tiny. "Lorrimer and Perkins
are cackling away in our study. You know what they are. I vote we
push off up on the moors. I'll ask Collier."
The housemaster, recently placed in charge of the Upper Sixth, gave
the required permission.
"Very good, Desmond," he replied in answer to Tiny's request. "Back
at four, mind. How's that cough of yours, by the bye? Lost it yet?"
"Nearly, sir," replied Tiny, flushing.
"H'm, about time," rejoined Mr. Collier. "All right, carry on."
The two sixth-formers touched their caps and walked away.
"Wish he wouldn't harp on that cough," murmured Desmond. "It's
really nothing much; a bit of a bother first thing in the morning.
Now, Colin, what's this stunt?"
Sinclair told his story simply and without hesitation. There were no
secrets between the two chums. They shared their pleasures, their,
for the most part trivial, troubles, their perplexities, and their
worldly goods (as far as their school belongings went)
whole-heartedly.
"Fact is," said Colin, "my governor has been losing a lot of money
since the War, and he can't afford to keep me at Stockmere after
this term. I found out quite accidentally that the pater had been
pretty badly hit for some time. I ought to have left a year ago,
only he kept it dark and managed to let me stay on. He was hoping
for things to improve financially only they didn't. So that's that."
"Hard lines!" ejaculated Desmond sympathetically.
"That's why the governor didn't come up to the sports," resumed
Sinclair. "He simply couldn't run to it. And he's sold his car and
cut down a lot of things, but he's losing ground, so to speak. His
pension was quite all right once upon a time, but now it goes
nowhere."
"And what are you going to do?" asked Tiny.
"I hardly know," replied his chum. "Of course, my idea of going to
an engineering college is off. After all's said and done, it means
earning nothing until a fellow's well over twenty-one, and then he's
lucky if he makes as much as a miner or a bricklayer. At any rate,
I've got to do something--to earn something. In fact, I don't think
I ought to have come back this term."
"Well, what are you going to do?" asked Desmond.
Colin shook his head.
"I hardly know," he replied. "Anything to help things along. I've
got thirteen weeks to think over it. By that time--but, I say, Tiny,
you won't say a word to any of the other fellows?" he added
anxiously.
"'Course not," declared Desmond.
"Right-o!" rejoined Sinclair, then, as if he had put the matter out
of his mind, he drew himself up, stretched his arms, and sniffed
appreciatively at the keen, bracing mountain air.
"My word," he exclaimed, "isn't it tophole? I'll race you to the
crest of Shutter Pike."
It was a distance of about four hundred yards to the summit of the
hill known as Shutter Pike--a gentle gradient for two-thirds of the
way, ending up with a fairly stiff ascent.
For the first fifty yards Tiny led, but gradually Colin recovered
the initial advantage his companion had gained, and before the last
fifty yards he had drawn up level. Then, putting his whole energy
into the race, Sinclair dashed ahead and flung himself upon the
grassy knoll at the summit. To his surprise, Tiny had stopped and
was holding his hands against his ribs and coughing violently.
"Buck up, man!" Sinclair shouted. "I'm a bit out of training ....
Why, what's the matter? Anything wrong?"
Desmond shook his head, but made no attempt to move. His companion
jumped to his feet and ran down the slope.
"Did you fall?" he asked anxiously, for the bluish-grey pallor on
his chum's face rather took him aback.
"No," spluttered Tiny. "Stitch, or something ... nothing much."
He sat down abruptly, endeavouring to stifle the fit of coughing. At
length he succeeded.
"You're not up to the mark, that's evident," said Colin. "What have
you been doing these hols? You're right out of condition. You'll
have to train, my festive."
"I will," replied Desmond. "I've been slacking a bit, but I'll soon
get into form. I say, it's close on four. Let's get a move on."
Hardly a word was exchanged as the pair made their way schoolwards.
"Don't say anything to Collier," said Tiny, as they passed the lodge
gates. "About this little cough of mine, I mean."
"'Course not," declared Colin. "Why should I?"
Tea over, Desmond and Sinclair went to the rooms they shared with
Lorrimer and "Polly" Perkins. Here everything was in a state of
disorder. The furniture had only just been removed from their last
term's den; their boxes and trunks, half unpacked, were piled upon
the table and chairs, while an assortment of bats, tennis rackets,
fishing rods, nets, and other articles inseparable with schoolboys
filled every available corner of the room.
"You're a nice pair!" exclaimed Lorrimer. "Mooching off and leaving
Polly and me to square things up."
"And a fine square up you've made of it," replied Tiny. "Hullo,
what's this? My razor! Polly, you are the absolute limit."
Perkins received the intelligence with as good grace as possible
when discovered in the act of using another fellow's razor for the
purpose of cutting rope.
"Sorry, old man," he replied apologetically. "But what _do_ you do
with your razor, by the bye? Half a mo', Tiny, before you start
scrapping. The Head's been looking out for you."
"Honest?" inquired Desmond.
"Honest," assented Polly.
At Stockmere that word was sufficient. No fellow ever doubted the
genuineness of an assertion thus expressed. Desmond picked up his
cap and made his way to Dr. Narfield's study.
The summons did not surprise him. Coupled with the fact that he was
one of the head boys, and that this was the first day of a new term,
it was not unusual for a youth in Desmond's position to be called to
the Head's study.
Dr. Narfield was standing with his back to the empty fireplace in a
characteristic attitude, his mortar-board on the back of his head
and his hands clasped under the tails of his gown:
"You sent for me, sir?"
"Yes, Desmond," replied the Head, looking at the lad over the top of
his spectacles. "I thought, Desmond, that you, a head boy, would be
above a senseless practical joke."
He paused. Tiny regarded the doctor dumfoundedly. And then that
irritating cough made itself known again.
Dr. Narfield waited until the fit was over.
"Perhaps, Desmond," he resumed, "you will kindly explain why this
was found in your handbag?"
He pointed to a large dish on a side table. On it, writhing gently,
was an eel, about ten inches in length.
"That--er--pet," continued the Head, "nearly frightened the
housekeeper into hysterics when she opened your bag. You are, of
course, aware that pets are permitted at Stockmere, but there are
limits in the choice of a selection. Now, Desmond, please explain."
Desmond hesitated. The affair wanted some explanation, but he wasn't
at all sure that his elucidation was a correct one.
"I can't exactly explain, sir," he replied. "I didn't put it into my
bag, and I certainly didn't intend to frighten Mrs. Symonds or
anybody."
"Then how did it get into your bag?" asked the Head patiently.
Previous experiences had taught him the advisability of a patient
hearing and not to judge by circumstantial evidence. He knew
perfectly well the best way to detect a guilty culprit was to let
him tell his story without comment until he had made the fatal error
of condemning himself.
"It was like this, sir," explained Desmond. "The train was crowded,
and I rode in the guard's van. In the van, amongst other things, was
a large box labelled 'Eels--Perishable.' It had a small crack in it,
and very soon I saw an eel's tail appear. Then somehow other tails
found their way through and the box began to open."
Dr. Narfield nodded. He knew from personal experience that eels have
frequently been known to force open heavy boxes in which they are
packed for transit.
"Go on, Desmond," he said gravely. Tiny, finding that the Head did
not ridicule his tale, plunged into his narrative without further
hesitation.
"I told the guard," he continued, "but he was busy writing in a
book, and told me it wasn't his business. It wasn't mine, so I just
watched. And before we got to Little Porton the eels had forced open
the box and were wriggling all over the place--hundreds of them,
sir. The guard got the wind up then--I mean, sir, he was in a bit
of a funk. I didn't exactly care for it myself, although it was a
topping rag to watch. So we both sat on some luggage and kept our
feet up, although at every station the guard had to get out. And a
crowd of eels got out, too. There were dozens of them left on every
platform, and by the time we got to Colbury Monkton the van was
almost empty. I must have left my bag unfastened--in fact, I
remember closing it when I got out--so I suppose one of them
wriggled in."
The Head smiled.
"That explanation is quite satisfactory, Desmond," he remarked. "You
may go."