Part 4 (1/2)

There were moments when there came to the soul of Lieutenant Augustus Tibbetts a great unrest. Times when even the pursuit and practice of his latest course of study brought neither peace nor consolation. Bones (for such was his name to his equals) found a melancholy satisfaction in the phenomena, for these conditions of unease usually preceded some flas.h.i.+ng inspiration. It was as though Nature in her mysterious way ordained that Bones should only put forth his finest efforts after some (to him) tremendous ordeal. Such a tinge of irritation came to Bones one sunny day in April, and at a moment when he had every reason to be perfectly happy. The mail had brought to him a diploma which certified to his proficiency as an accountant. He had been elected a Fellow of the Society of Accountancy (Wabash) Fellow of the Society of Accountancy (Wabash), as a result of a course of correspondence lessons conducted by The College of Practical and Theoretical Accountancy (also of Wabash, USA). The College of Practical and Theoretical Accountancy (also of Wabash, USA).

His half-yearly inspection had pa.s.sed off magnificently, with the trifling exception that his books were out of order and that the sum of three pounds one s.h.i.+lling had in some mysterious fas.h.i.+on crept into the credit column. But this was instantly rectified by the discovery that he had added the day of the month, Bones invariably did this. Generally he added the year. Sometimes he was 192 1s short. Sometimes he had short. Sometimes he had 19 2s 1 1d surplus. Sanders had praised some work of his; his immediate superior, Captain Hamilton, had been unusually gracious. And Bones was unhappy. surplus. Sanders had praised some work of his; his immediate superior, Captain Hamilton, had been unusually gracious. And Bones was unhappy.

There was, in truth, an excellent reason. Bones was one of those uncomfortable people who take a pa.s.sionate interest in every phase of human activity that happens outside their own especial orbit of duty. He was an officer of Houssas. He enjoyed an allowance from a wealthy uncle, he was living the kind of life he would have chosen of all others, and yet Bones was constantly striving toward perfection in professions which had nothing whatever to do with soldiering. He ”took up” almost every branch of study that was offered to him through the advertis.e.m.e.nt pages of the magazines. He learnt elocution, public speaking, newspaper ill.u.s.tration, short-story writing, motor-car construction, law, motion-picture production, engineering, and the after-care of babies, through the medium of weekly questionnaires and test sheets, though without possessing the slightest apt.i.tude for the practice of a single calling which he so a.s.siduously studied.

And he read. He read the Hundred Best Books and Egyptian History and John Stuart Mill, and books on Inductive and Deductive Logic, and Works of Travel and Sociology. If he did not actually read them, he bought them. Sometimes he read nearly through the first chapter, but generally he read the introduction and put the book away to be read some day ”when I can give my mind to it.” That day never dawned. Possibly the introductions were sufficient to a.s.sure him that they were books he did not wish to know.

Bones was pa.s.sing through a phase of intellectual development when the inequalities of life were all too apparent. He grieved for his fellowmen. He despised wealth and spoke glibly and contemptuously of capitalism. But for Florence, his life would have been intolerable. Florence was the property of Captain Hamilton. She was a hen, and she was of the Plymouth Rock variety. From her chickhood she had conceived a violent affection for Bones, and Bones, to whom all living things had a soul, had returned her love.

There was an embarra.s.sing side to the friends.h.i.+p, for Florence followed him like a pet dog, and invariably inspected the guard behind him. And the Houssa has a very keen sense of humour.

Yet even Florence did not wholly compensate for the social conditions which were revealed to Bones from week to week in the pages of a fiery periodical which came to him. Bones grew careless in his attire, and addressed Abiboo, his sergeant, as ”Comrade.” Which Sergeant Abiboo reported to Hamilton.

”It is clear that the young lord Tibbetti has fever,” he said, ”for this morning he spoke to me as if he were a common man, and said that all men were equal. Even sergeants with privates. Also he said that the land did not belong to Government, but to me and to his lords.h.i.+p. This I report officially.”

Finding no traces of fever, Hamilton had given his subordinate three large pills, Bones protesting.

Summoned to the residency, he heard of his projected trip without enthusiasm. Ordinarily the prospect of a.s.suming control of the Wiggle Wiggle would have brought him to a high pitch of ecstasy. would have brought him to a high pitch of ecstasy.

”Thank you, sir an' excellency,” he said gloomily. ”I'll go because it is my duty. I have a premonition that I may not come back. Instinct, my dear old Ham I've always been like that. I'm physic.”

”'Psychic' is the word you want,” said Hamilton.

”We always call it 'Physic',” said Bones calmly, ”and that's the way it's spelt, dear old comrade and OC Troops. If a johnny is physic, surely to good gracious heavens he knows how it's spelt?”

”What have you a premonition of, Bones?” asked Sanders.

Bones made a grimace, lifted his angular shoulders and threw out his hands gestures indicating his inability to give a plain answer to a plain question.

”Not wis.h.i.+ng to cast a dark old shadow or be a jolly old killjoy, I'd rather not say,” he replied darkly, ”but I've had this feeling, comrade”

”A little less 'comrade' would be welcome,” said Hamilton.

”We're all comrades, dear old officer,” said Bones gloomily. ”We've got our jolly old social values mixed up. The condition of society with its naughty old artificial restrictions is positively ghastly. It is indeed, old Ham. Sweinmacher says”

”What Sweinmacher or any other Dutch trader says is immaterial,” said Hamilton. ”You go to the Isisi this afternoon. And if your premonition comes off I'll write the nicest little obituary notice you've ever seen.”

Bones inclined his head gravely. ”I've already written it,” he said. ”You'll find it in my desk, dear old com officer. You might send it to the Times Times I've subscribed to that jolly old Thunderer for years, an' they'll be glad to put it in. About 20,000 words as near as I can judge, but if you'd like to add anything to it, I'll take it as a kindness.” I've subscribed to that jolly old Thunderer for years, an' they'll be glad to put it in. About 20,000 words as near as I can judge, but if you'd like to add anything to it, I'll take it as a kindness.”

Sanders came down to see his subordinate leave.

”N's.h.i.+mba you will deal with firmly. As yet he is not dangerous. These fellows hold tight to tradition, and until the arrival of the black egg and the spies say he has been searching for it there will be no general rising. If necessary, kill N's.h.i.+mba. You're not taking Florence?”

Florence was perched on the rail of the boat, a brooding, sleepy figure. Undisturbed, she remained when the Wiggle Wiggle cast off and pushed its blunt nose to the rapid waters of the big river. cast off and pushed its blunt nose to the rapid waters of the big river.

Bones pa.s.sed the Isisi country according to plan, and his first call was upon Bosambo, Paramount Chief of the Ochori, and thorn in the side of all kings, chiefs and headmen of the Isisi, Akasava and N'gombi. As well he might be, for he was a Krooman by birth, adventurer by instinct, and a great collector of other men's property by choice.

”I see you one time: I looka you longa longa times, Bonesi. You be good fellow.” Thus Bosambo in English, for he had been educated in an English mission school.

Bones struggled hard against resenting the familiarity. Tactfully, he replied in Bomongo.

”Sandi has sent me to speak with your young men, Bosambo, for Sandi's heart is troubled because of this secret society.”

”Lord,” said Bosambo calmly, ”there is no secret society in this land. When the older men join together in dances and call themselves by ghostly names, I say no word, for old men are great talkers and nothing comes of that. But when my young men meet in secrecy, then I know that they will talk scandal. And what is scandalous here in the Ochori but taxation and the punishment I give to evil men? These Young Hearts spoke of me badly, and this I discovered. Now the Young Hearts are not in the Ochori,” he added significantly.

Bones considered the matter, scratching his nose. ”Bosambo, in this land all men are equal,” he said, and the big chief regarded him dispa.s.sionately.

”Lord, all men are equal who are equal to one another,” he said. ”But no man is equal to me, for I am the chief king of the Ochori. And I am not equal to you, Tibbetti, nor you to Sandi. If you are equal to Sandi, speak.”

Bones modestly refrained, and the big man went on: ”It is right that I should be over the Ochori,” he said, ”for someone must stand high above the people, or he would not see them well. When there are ten thousand goats upon the plain, what does any goat see but the goat that is next to him? And how may he know what happens on the edge of the flock, where the leopards come crawling and creeping?”

”All men ” began Bones again, but thought better of it. Bosambo was not a man who would be readily convinced.

He secured a certain amount of information about the Young Hearts information which Bosambo had taken the most drastic measures to procure.

”They are of the Isisi,” said Bosambo, ”and this king of the Isisi is no man, but a cow. For he sits down and hears these boys speak, and does not beat them. You go to the Isisi, lord?”

Bones went on his way, and his host watched by the riverside, until the white hull of the little Wiggle Wiggle had disappeared round a woody headland. Then Bosambo returned to his hut and to his wife, who was also his counsellor. had disappeared round a woody headland. Then Bosambo returned to his hut and to his wife, who was also his counsellor.

”Light of my life,” she said in the Arabic of the coast, ”Tibbetti has been in many terrible places, but I think the Isisi country will be worse for him.”

In two nights and a day Bones came to the Isisi city, and was received in state by the king.

”Lord, I know nothing of the Young Hearts,” said Bugulu nervously. ”The folly of children is not for me and my wise old men, but for their parents. As to N's.h.i.+mba, what is he but a child?”

Bones did not attempt to supply an answer to his question. He had not failed to notice, in his walk through the widely scattered city of the king, that, which ever way he looked, he saw no young men. There were those who were old squatting at the fires, and women of all ages going about their proper business. He called the attention of Bugulu to this fact, and the king grew more miserable.

”Lord, they have gone to a palaver in the deep forest,” he said. ”For these night-talk-people must hold palavers at all times.”

Bones hesitated, and then, accompanied by the king, walked down the broad main street of the city. He stopped at the first hut, where an old woman was crus.h.i.+ng meal, and spoke to her.

”O woman,” he said, ”I think you are the mother of sons. Now tell me where your fine son is, that I may speak to him.”

She glanced from Bones to the king, and then: ”Lord, he is gone to make a palaver in the deep forest,” she said.

”What is your son?” asked Bones.

”Master, he is a fisherman and is very stout.”

Bones listened to the recital of the young man's virtues, and then asked: ”Bring me his s.h.i.+eld and his spear, that I may see them.”

The woman looked at the king and at Bones, then turned her eyes away.

”Lord, he has taken his s.h.i.+eld and his spear with him, for there is game in the deep forest, and leopards that are terribly fierce,” she said.

Apparently, every other young man who had departed out from the Isisi city had also gone in the expectation of meeting terrible leopards.

”These young men say fearful things, Tibbetti,” said the old man, troubled. ”My own son, who desires to be chief in my place, brought word that you spoke his mind, and that in your heart you were against all chiefs and kings, and the young men believe him. Also that all that is mine is all men's. And that my goats belong to the village and my gardens to every mean man.”