Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 4, 1922 — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

THE BANDIT OF BATAKALAND. now he placed the saddle and bridle inside the brick cottage, led the beast down to the stream, and watered it. Afterward he knee-haltered it, so that it could not stray far, and turned it out to graze along the river-bank. He brooded over the situation all the rest of the day. Decidedly there was something queer about his job. It was incredible that neither Wimborne nor Eltzmann should have known about the gold. Yet, why had they not informed him? Eltzmann had hinted at a raid by the prospectors, but he must have known that the mining camp at Fulani was broken up. Then there was the knowledge that he was working against Lois and Sir Philip. He had signed the contract without realiz- ing that the company was undoubtedly re- sponsible for the latter’s persecution. When Sir Philip told him the story he had not known enough of conditions in Batakaland to understand this. It was Eltzmann’s de- mand that had given him light; but the contract was then already signed. At sundown old Tom brought some pro- visions, lit a fire before the cottage, and cooked him a mess of bully beef and canned vegetables, with damper of his making, canned butter, and tea. Dean sat over his fire, smoking, and still brooding. He had never felt so miserable, and the mystery worried him profoundly. One thing was clear: he must learn all he could from the watchman. A little later, when it had grown dark, he went toward his shack. Tom Binns was seated on the step, crouched over his fire, now dying to an ember. A candle, flicker- ing in the interior behind him, flung his face into a silhouette that startled Dean as he looked at it. He had thought of Tom as the typical time and toil worn prospector in harmless old age; the features that the candle-flame disclosed were those of a man haunted by a consuming devil. A devil of greed! Even the fingers, crooked upon Tom’s knees, seemed yearning to grasp something that evaded them. At Dean’s approach Tom started, as if from some disturbing thoughts, looked up, and nodded. 3 as eS 561 Dean handed him a piece of plug tobacco as a propitiatory gift, and old Tom cut a thin slice with a clasp knife and began rubbing it slowly between his hands, prepar- atory to stuffing it into the burned-out pipe upon his knees. Dean sat down on an adjacent packing-case and watched him ap- ply the match. “Looks as if the rains are going to break to-night,” he said, glancing toward the western horizon, where vivid lightning played among the thunder-clouds which for days past had hung more and more heavily over the veldt. “It will be a good thing for the miners,” he added, thinking of the fanner, and of the old prospector rocking the cradle at the edge of the dried-up stream. “It ‘ll be a good thing for them as knows,” muttered Tom. Then he broke into a sneering cackle. ‘‘ Them fools has gone on to look for the alluvial,” he jeered, ‘‘ while all the time it’s lying thicker’n salt in a salt-mine, if they knew where to look for it.” He turned his old eyes malevolently upon Dean’s face. “I was a-telling you, sir, as how this mine was a little Rand on its own,” he said. ‘‘ God forgive me for that lie. This here property’s a fake, Mr. Gervaise,”’ he continued in a low voice. ‘“ A swindle clean through. There’s gold in it, but it don’t pay to work it. The company pur- tends as it’s the richest gold-mine in Bata- kaland. Gol-conda, they calls it, signify- ing I don’t know what, save that it’s rich. Well, it ain’t rich. It’s just the sort of quartz with a streak of color in it that you can pick up anywheres along the roadside.” ' His cackle sounded horrible in the dark- ness. “ Aye, it was me found this here Gol- conda,” he cried, ‘‘ but I warn’t sich a fool as the comp’ny thought I was. When they thought they knew where this here Gol- conda was they pushed me to the wall and grabbed it. But it ain’t here. It’s nigh here, but this ain’t it. Lord, how I laughed when I seéd ’em begin to sink the shaft and set up the stamp-mill!” ‘* But why does the company pretend that the mine is rich?” asked Dean. ~ Old Tom drew a skinny finger across his COmiclbooks.Gonmn