Adventure, February 20, 1922 — page 80: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

$) “" = 78 7 Adventure . es just trot along that path. You’re coming more of the great Kwat. He vanished, and home with me and we'll see what’s to be — tribes settled down once again to the plant- ~~ = done. ing of yams and the celebrating of marriage es “At present I don’t think I shall hand you feasts. A great peace came over the land. = over to the gendarme. He’s no great friend Only one of the babu’s escort reached = of mine,—letsghis goats run all over my Pouho, and the tale which he told made the = fattening paddocks. Now—march!” assembled chiefs nod wisely—the time was = | And the babu went off along the track not ripe. But Mbawani, Chandar Roy’s = without a word. He had heard of McLaird. one-time henchman went out to investigate Every native in New Caledonia knew of for himself, and, by dint of much travel and Sapt him. He had come to the island some three many meetings, finally located ‘the babu. ms years before to take charge of a cattle One of McLaird’s stockmen whispered ae station owned by an Australian concern. the news to Mbawani and hurriedly went aa He never raised his voice, he never raised his way. his hand—but his bullocks were never stolen, and the natives worked for him when other planters could get no help. He ranged alone through the mountains on his stocky gray mare indifferent to dan- - ger, always pleasant, always at work even when the temperature reached 110 degrees in the shade and the whole country gasped for air. At dusk they finally reached McLaird’s homestead. The babu was fed, and while he devoured the food placed before him by the Javanese coolie,; McLaird sat on the other side of the table. As though there had been no interruption in their conversation, he resumed: , i¢ ' A nd a ve 4 s Ne ‘ A yen | sa 424, Ss : a A i ¥ uy i 7) ’ 1 v¥ ¥ ~ "No, that gendarme is no friend of mine. _—___ [ll tell you what I'll do, if you promise to be good and forget about this black god busi- ness. I need a clerk. The firm over at Melbourne is clamoring for my accounts for the last twelve months and I’m hanged if I ~~ can make head or tail of them. “Here you are—you’re badly wanted— but I can give you a little place of your own behind the house and let you work at the on eh MF Vag’ \ Hy TAN yaya y books to your heart’s content.” = Chandar Roy arose majestically. = “Mister McLaird,” he said, “I shall serve -—~--—-you faithfully. I can not thank you for __.__ / helping to overcome my childish, censorious _ conduct.” €<s. 23 Se HE ACQUITTED himself of his Pees: a task with loving care; he restored a order out of chaos; he balanced es books and worked out overhead charges ;' = he opened new ledgers and evolved fresh o> ~~ and intricate methods of accountancy. a McLaird looked on with growing satis- ae faction. Poe The trouble in the interior died away. Harassed officials and missionaries heard no aes aes es Some nights later the sleeping babu was awakened by a stealthy hand which gently tapped him on the arm. He sat up in dis- may to find Mbawani on his knees by the bed praying—praying to Kwat! They talked in whispers until nearly dawn, and the visitor went back to his vil- lage well pleased, for Chandar Roy had promised that he would again lead the . tribes against the white men. His plans had undergone a slight modification, that was all. He would kill McLaird and use the house as his headquarters. In two weeks’ time Mbawani was to re- turn. The Australian would be dead, and together they would fan the long smoldering fire into flame. A week went by and the babu nursed his hatred. Instead of a benefactor, McLaird had become a brutal oppress6r, a tyrant, cheating justice for his own ends. Then came the great night. Chandar Roy watched the lights go out in the house. The Javanese coolies pat- tered away down the lines to play mysteri- ous games of chance with their fellows from a neighboring station. Standing behind a tree, he saw McLaird go into his curtainless bedroom, take off his clothes, light a cigaret, and stand by the window reading a month- old Sydney paper. How foolish the little man looked with his sunbaked face and bald head sticking out of his white pajama jacket! Then he blew out the lamp, and the house was in darkness. Softly the babu made his way up the steps. All the doors were open to let in the cool night air. Gently he stole into the great living-room, and the boards creaked hideously as he groped his way along the wall. A rat scuttled by in the ceiling over- head and the babu shook with fear. A icomicbook