good_shot
good_shot
[Illustration: A GOOD SHOT]
[Illustration: A GOOD SHOT]
A shot whistled over the boat, followed by an irregular volley; then, setting their camels at a steady pace, the Arabs kept up with the boat, reloading their cumbersome weapons as they went.
"If they don't do better than that, we needn't worry," said Reeves, who was sitting aft, and imperturbably grasping the steering oar. "But keep down, you fellows; they may make a fluke and score a cannon."
Almost the next shot cut a long gash in the sail, while another knocked chips off the gunwale.
"This won't do," exclaimed Reeves. "Gerald, come aft for half a minute and steer. Don't show yourself too much."
Kneeling on the bottom boards, the correspondent took careful aim with his musket, and a camel promptly dropped, throwing its rider headlong upon the sand.
"One!" said the marksman calmly. "Hand me your musket, Hugh."
The next shot was also successful, bringing down the Arab who had discovered the boat. With that the rest turned and disappeared behind the sandhills.
"I hope that's sent them about their business," said Reeves, as he reloaded the flintlock. "Gerald, you're fairly light; swarm up the mast and say if you can see anything of them."
"They are riding as hard as they can in the same direction as we are taking," announced the lad from his swaying perch.
"All right; come down," replied Reeves. "They are going to ambush us, I fear."
Ten minutes later a rattle of musketry burst from the scrub on the bank, most of the bullets flying high or striking the water. Two, however, ricochetting, buried themselves in the boat's stout timbers. Without showing themselves, the Arabs disappeared, to take up a fresh position lower downstream.
"That's beastly annoying!" remarked Hugh. "If they carry plenty of provisions they may keep this game up for days."
"I thought all the Arabs went eastwards after the repulse at the breach?" said Gerald.
"These may be a few stragglers—I hope they are," rejoined Reeves. "We don't want to drift into a whole tribe of them. To-night I'll try to trick them. Fortunately there's no moon."
The breeze held throughout the day, but, in spite of the rapid and constant speed of the boat, the Bedouins hung on doggedly, firing from cover as quickly as they could. Little damage was done, however, beyond a few holes through the top strakes and splinters from the mast and gunwales.
As night came on, the wind showed signs of dropping.
"Are you going to bring up for the night?" asked Gerald of Reeves, who had relinquished the helm and was busily engaged in unstranding a piece of rope and encasing it in tallow from the animal they had shot.
"Rather; that's part of my ruse. The wind's falling very light, and our progress will soon be only that of the current, unless we row, and that will be too risky."
Directly it grew thoroughly dark, Reeves lit one of his improvised candles, which burned steadily in the almost still air. Its appearance was greeted by a shower of bullets from the indefatigable enemy on the bank.
"Stand by with the anchor, Gerald," said the correspondent. "Don't make more noise than you can possibly help. When I say 'let go', lower the stone as softly as you can."
"All ready!" announced Gerald from the bow of the boat.
Meanwhile the director of operations had wrenched up one of the bottom boards, and, lighting a second candle, stuck it firmly in the centre of the plank. Then, carefully screening the light, he dropped the piece of timber over the side of the boat away from the bank from which the Arabs were firing.
"Let go," he whispered, blowing out the first light.
The rough-and-ready anchor brought the boat round head to current, while the board, with its candle burning dimly, drifted downstream, the mark for nearly a dozen muskets.
"Now they can waste powder and shot as much as they jolly well please," exclaimed Reeves, as the sound of the firing grew fainter and fainter. "Luckily there are no King's prizemen amongst them, and fifty to one they won't shift that candle at a hundred yards."
The night passed without interruption, and daylight revealed no sign of the Arabs.
"I hope they potted that candle after all," said Gerald.
"Why, young wiseacre?" asked Reeves, laughing.
"Because if they did, they might imagine that they sank the boat, and would not trouble us further. If they find the plank at daybreak they will see through our little game and come back to look for us."
"That's one to you, by George!" exclaimed the correspondent. "I wish we had lowered the sail and rowed downstream, leaving the light behind us. But in any case it's too late now, and the fact remains that we have put the Arabs between us and our destination."
"Unless they've gone inland," added Hugh.
"Which I hope they have done," concluded Reeves.
Once more the favouring breeze had sprung up, and with the sail bellying out before the wind the boat resumed its course. Ten miles were reeled off in quick time, and the crew were beginning to congratulate themselves upon the success of their ruse when the now familiar sound of bullets whizzing about their ears told them that the respite had been but temporary.
There was something satisfactory, however, besides the waste of ammunition. The firing told Reeves that the Arabs had not increased in number, though their persistency began to cause him fresh uneasiness. Was it likely that the Bedouins would continue their apparently fruitless pursuit if they had no possible chance of success?
THE correspondent's fear was only too well grounded. Just before midday an ominous increase in the rate of the stream betokened cataracts or rapids ahead. But, in spite of the accelerated speed of the boat, the implacable Arabs held tenaciously to their tactics of riding ahead and firing volleys from ambush. To reply would have been a waste of ammunition, for owing to the swirling of the current it was impossible for the crew to take a careful aim at their foes.
Reeves calculated that nearly five hundred shots had been fired at the boat without much damage being done; but at length one bullet did more harm than all the rest put together. Cutting through the halyards, it brought the sail down with a run, and the unwieldy craft swung round broadside on to the stream.
Without hesitation, Reeves seized another piece of rope and began to climb the mast. His appearance attracted a heavy fire, the bullets whizzing unpleasantly close. One grazed his ankle, and another cut the rope he was holding close to his head, so that he was compelled to descend without having achieved his object.
There was no help for it but to make use of the oars, and, cowering behind the rough-and-ready breastwork, the lads contrived to get the boat's head round, while Reeves recovered his breath before he essayed a fresh attempt.
Just as he was preparing to go aloft once more, he happened to glance ahead. To his horror he found that the river was about to traverse a narrow gorge, while the actual stream was encumbered with huge rocks, between which the water surged furiously.
Springing forward, the correspondent dropped the stone that served as an anchor overboard, paying out just sufficient cable to check the boat's way, the lump of stone bumping and scraping over the bottom of the river. The craft swung round, head pointing upstream, and by manipulating the long, steering oar Reeves was able to keep her fairly under control.
He had to stand upright—a target for the Bedouins' muskets; but, ignoring the danger, he kept his face turned resolutely towards the cataract, knowing that to strike upon one of those wicked-looking rocks meant total disaster.
The range, too, was decreasing, and with redoubled shouts the Arabs, thinking that the occupants of the boat were too busy to reply, sprang boldly from cover and, leaping from rock to rock, came as close to the water's edge as they possibly could. But Hugh was equal to the occasion. Ramming a handful of duck shot down the barrel of his musket he let fly at those of the Bedouins who were nearest to him. Maddened with the pain of a dozen slight wounds, three of the Arabs dropped their guns and literally danced, their shouts of anguish so alarming their companions that they bolted for cover.
The precipitous sides of the gorge prevented further pursuit; but the aspect was alarming enough, for the craft, in spite of the trailing stone, was darting through the boiling water with the velocity of a torpedo boat.
Bracing himself at the rudder, Reeves veered the lumbering boat as skilfully as he could, missing sharp, spray-flecked rocks by a handbreadth. Every now and then a vicious-crested wave would pour over the gunwale of the plunging craft, till the weight of water aboard began to make itself felt.
"Bale for all you're worth!" gasped Reeves, who was wellnigh breathless with the strain of holding the steering oar. "And look out for the powder. Keep it dry at all costs."
Gerald plied a wooden bowl as vigorously as he possibly could, while Hugh, holding on with difficulty, contrived to lift the bag of powder and place it on the small decked-in part of the bows.
For nearly ten minutes the nerve-racking ordeal lasted—Reeves afterwards said that it was one of the tightest places he had ever been in—while the distance covered in that time could hardly have been less than six miles. But the end of the gorge was now in sight. The wearied steersman gave an exclamation of relief, when, with a strange shudder, the boat swung round like a top, and, broadside on, drifted upon almost the last rock of the cataract.
By an almost superhuman effort Reeves succeeded in bringing the bows round; but it was just too late. The stern crashed upon the rock with a shock that threw the three occupants sprawling into the bottom of the boat, and the next thing they were aware of was that the craft was spinning slowly in the still agitated current, while the water was pouring in through the bottom or garboard strakes like a mill stream.
"Come for'ard, both of you!" shouted the correspondent, and whipping out his knife he cut the sail from the yard. Hastily rolling the canvas, he placed it over the damaged planks, which had the effect of considerably checking the inrush of water.
Then, rejoining his companions in the bows, he seized an oar, told Gerald to do the same, and kept the nearly water-logged craft on her course, while Hugh plied the baler.
They had now time to look about them. The gorge was left far astern, and the desert stretched for miles ahead and on either hand. The banks were now covered with coarse vegetation. Astern rose the mountains through which they had so wonderfully passed, and, looking at that formidable barrier, Reeves realized that they were far beyond the reach of their ferocious pursuers. The current, too, though swift, no longer surged madly between jagged rocks, but flowed silently, showing that the river had increased in depth.
"Now, what's to be done?" exclaimed Hugh, who had managed to get rid of most of the undesirable liquid ballast. "The water is still coming in."
"We don't want to be baling continuously for the next three weeks," observed Reeves. "We must risk it, and run the boat ashore."
"And trudge it?" asked Gerald dolefully.
"Oh no!" replied the correspondent. "It's not quite so bad as that, I hope. Unless I'm very much mistaken, those small bushes growing on the banks have their roots set in clay and not in sand. Clay is an excellent leak-stopper. I don't think we need fear a surprise visit from our late hostile friends, the Arabs; but we must take due precautions. While Gerald and I are plugging the hole, you, Hugh, had better go ashore and mount guard."
So saying, Reeves headed the boat towards the left bank, or the opposite one to that on which the Arabs had appeared. As the craft drew away from the middle of the stream the current became much less rapid, and by the time her bow grounded there was hardly any motion in the water at all. If anything, there was a slight eddy upstream.
As the correspondent had suggested, the soil on the banks was composed of clay, of a dark slate colour. While Hugh patrolled the bank, his comrades dug up lumps of the viscous earth with their knives and dumped them down on the hole. The actual aperture was less than two inches in diameter, but the planking had been fractured for nearly a foot on all sides of it. A few lumps were sufficient to check the inflow completely, but Reeves insisted on placing more clay over the weak spot, till a layer nearly a foot thick lay evenly over the damaged part.
"That's a good job done," said the correspondent. "A few hours' sun will bake the stuff as hard as a brick. It will serve as a hearth to light our fire upon."
"Then we don't require the stone," said Gerald, looking at the slab that did duty for cooking purposes.
"Don't we, by Jove!" exclaimed Reeves. "I think we do. Do you know how we were nearly smashed up?"
"By running on a rock, I suppose."
"Exactly! But why could I not avoid it, as I did the others? I'll tell you. The continual scraping over the rocky bed of the river chafed through the rope holding our anchor. We've still got most of the rope; this stone must be our new anchor."
For the next seven days the voyage continued almost without incident. On the eighth day the travellers found themselves on a vast lake, caused by the expansion of the river. So shallow was it that on several occasions the boat stuck hard and fast almost beyond sight of land; but by all hands jumping overboard and lightening the craft they contrived to get her off.
Just before sunset the boat stuck again, this time about three miles from the lower end of the lake; and in spite of the crew's hardest exertions she obstinately refused to budge. They tried to lessen her draught by placing her cargo all on one side, and then in the bow, in case she drew more aft than forward, but all to no purpose.
"Stand by for a spell!" exclaimed Reeves, who, like the others, was wellnigh breathless with his exertions. Stooping down, he stuck his knife lightly into one of the planks at the waterline.
A quarter of an hour later, ere they resumed their task, the correspondent withdrew the blade. The mark where it had stuck was three inches above the surface of the water.
"We may as well make ourselves comfortable for the night," said Reeves. "We may get off to-morrow, or we may not. For some reason, that I cannot explain, the level of the lake has fallen too much for us to expect to haul the boat off."
Throwing the improvised anchor overboard, as a matter of precaution, the wearied crew had supper.
Just before time for turning in, Hugh leant over the side, holding a candle in his hand.
"There's more water now!" he exclaimed. "Shall we have another shot at getting her off?"
"By all means," assented Reeves, "if you feel up to it; but we don't want to get her aground again in a worse position than she is in at present."
"I'll walk round and sound," said Gerald, and without another word he stepped over the side and paddled through the shallow water.
"It's deeper here," he continued, after a lengthy pause. "But there's a rock or a floating log just ahead. I'll soon see what it is."
"You come back!" shouted Reeves apprehensively; but the warning came too late. As Gerald trod upon the "log" it became suddenly and violently active, and, struck by an irresistible blow, the lad was hurled nearly ten feet before he fell on his back in the shallow water. Staggering to his feet, he ran blindly towards the boat, with a huge crocodile, snapping its powerful jaws, in pursuit.
With a mighty heave Reeves jerked the terrified lad into the boat—not a moment too soon, for, in addition to the reptile that had capsized the intruder upon its peace and quietness, at least a dozen of the brutes came floundering through the shallows from all directions.
"Stand by with the muskets!" cried Reeves.
But the caution was unnecessary. The crocodiles contented themselves with snapping their huge jaws and bringing their heavy tails down upon the surface of the water with a tremendous crash, and did not make any direct attack upon the occupants of the boat.
Although Reeves slept like a top, the lads kept awake the greater part of the night, expecting momentarily to see the snout of a crocodile appear above the gunwale, and wondering vaguely what would happen if, with their craft stuck indefinitely upon the sandbank, they attempted to wade over the wide shallows betwixt them and the distant shore.
AT daybreak Hugh sat up. Gerald had fallen into a broken slumber, while the correspondent was still sleeping soundly. The lad was puzzled. When the boat stuck, her bows were pointing towards the setting sun; now they.-were inclined towards the east. He made his way for'ard. The craft rocked easily under his weight. A glance at the cable revealed the fact that the boat had floated, and was riding to the full scope of the anchor rope.
"We're afloat!" he shouted. Reeves was instantly awake, but Gerald muttered something about crocodiles.
"They have cleared off," exclaimed Hugh joyfully, "and we can clear off as soon as we like."
"How about breakfast?" asked Gerald drowsily.
"Breakfast had better wait till we get into deeper water," replied Reeves. "Heave up the anchor, Rags; I'll pole her along."
Very slowly the boat glided through the shallow water, the correspondent sounding with the oar. For quite a hundred yards the depth was uniform, then, with a suddenness that almost caused Reeves to lose his balance, the oar clipped into deeper water.
"Let go the anchor again!" he shouted. "There are at least twelve feet here. We must have struck the channel."
After breakfast the voyage was resumed; but although the halyards had been repaired and freshly rove, and the wind was fair, Reeves would not hoist the sail for fear of running hard aground again. An hour's steady pull brought them to the lower end of the lake, whence the river, now nearly a quarter of a mile in breadth, flowed swiftly in a south-westerly direction.
During the next three days the course lay betwixt sandbanks, with the apparently interminable desert stretching for miles on either hand. Two more cataracts were encountered. The first was shot with little difficulty, but the second, when viewed from upstream, presented a line of broken water extending from bank to bank, with rocks studded thickly across the bed.
So formidable was the aspect that Reeves ran the boat ashore, and, having secured her, the three travellers walked downstream to take stock of the-latest difficulty. Here they found that, although powerful, the rapid kept an almost clear course close to the bank.
"Can we shoot it?" asked Gerald.
"I shouldn't care to try it," replied Reeves. "This little channel is not wide enough to allow any margin for sheering about. We must veer the boat through it."
Accordingly the cable was made fast to the foremost thwart and led ashore over the gunwale at a distance of about three feet from the stem. The boat was pushed off into the stream, and the three members of her crew, standing on the bank, held the rope.
Caught by the current, the craft began to drift downstream till the cable became taut. There she lay, held as steady as a rock, with the water hissing past her like a mill race.
Slowly the crew began to walk downstream, the boat preceding them and maintaining a uniform distance from the shore.
"Take it easily and keep your strength," cautioned Reeves; "she's not got to the worst part yet."
When the boat entered the cataract it took all their united efforts to hold her. Frequently they were dragged several yards, their heels cutting long furrows in the sand and clay; but by doggedly sticking to their task they succeeded in steering their craft almost through the foaming torrent. But without warning the rope parted, and the three men found themselves sprawling on their backs, while the boat glided aimlessly and rapidly downstream.
Springing to his feet, Reeves coiled up the severed portion of the cable and ran as hard as he could, his comrades following and wondering what would happen next. Should the boat strike a rock and fill, they would be hopelessly stranded, since their arms, ammunition, and provisions were on board.
But a special providence seemed to guide the derelict, and, untouched by any of the formidable rocks, it gained the deeper yet still swift-flowing part of the stream.
Without hesitation the correspondent took a magnificent "header" and swam for the truant; but ere he had covered half the distance a huge, slimy black mass rose to the surface. It was a hippopotamus!
The lads shouted, but Reeves had already perceived the danger. It was touch and go which of the two would reach the boat first. The swimmer did so by a short head, and as he clambered over the side the animal's teeth closed upon the gunwale. There was a scrunch as the powerful jaws wrenched the woodwork asunder, leaving a jagged gap two feet across.
The hippopotamus returned to the attack; but this time Reeves was ready for her. Seizing a gun, he held the muzzle almost against the animal's eye and pressed the trigger. With a hideous cry the brute dived, leaving a long crimson trail in the water.
Grasping one of the long oars, the correspondent laboriously urged the boat towards the bank, and ten minutes later the lads were safely on board. As they pushed off, Gerald pointed to an object floating downstream. It was the body of the hippopotamus.
"Not a bad shot for the flintlock," remarked Reeves. "The beggar deserved it. Luckily the danger to the boat is confined to the gunwale, but we must be careful if we encounter any more broken water."
At length the desert was left behind, and the river plunged into the midst of a dense forest. Day after day passed, with nothing to be seen but tall trees and a thick undergrowth. The heat, too, began to increase, while every night a thick, miasmal mist arose. Mosquitoes appeared in swarms, and so determined were their attentions that the faces and arms of the crew were masses of blisters. The enervating vapour began to tell on the lads after the bracing air of the Croixilian plateau, and soon a pair of more unhealthy-looking people could hardly be imagined.
Reeves was greatly worried. Without even the most simple remedies or drugs, the chances of warding off an attack of fever were greatly reduced; but the lads kept up their spirits wonderfully, knowing that every hour brought them nearer to civilization.
At length, in an opening in the forest, a village came in sight—a collection of miserable mud huts, thatched with palm leaves. Directly they caught sight of the boat the inhabitants ran down to the water's edge, where they stood gazing fixedly, with wide-open mouths, at the strange sight.
"If we meet with no worse reception than that, I shan't mind," said Reeves, as a bend in the river hid the natives from view. "One thing, they are not Arabs."
"What are they?"
"Negroes—possibly Hausas. It's a good sign, since we know that we are approaching Nigerian territory. I shall be very much surprised if this river is not a tributary of the Niger, in which case we ought soon to stumble across one of the trading stations of the Northern Nigeria Company."
After this riverside villages became numerous, but beyond undisguised surprise the natives showed no sign of hostility until the boat passed a large stockaded town, in front of which several canoes were drawn up.
Here, as before, the natives rushed pell-mell to the bank, several of them holding up earthenware pots, while all of them shouted discordantly.
"They want to barter, evidently—another good sign. But we must not run any risk with these niggers."
Seeing that the occupants of the boat paid no attention to their shouts and gestures, the negroes began to beat tom-toms. This was a signal for a swarm of men armed with spears to rush for the canoes, and soon half a dozen "dug-outs", each urged by twenty paddles, were tearing downstream in pursuit.
"This looks bad!" exclaimed Reeves. "Stand by the steering oar, Gerald. Hugh, hand me up those guns."
In spite of the strong wind, that bore the boat along at a rapid pace, the canoes were steadily gaining, and the woods echoed to the monotonous war song of the natives and the rhythmical beat of the paddles.
Kneeling, Reeves fired a shot well above the heads of the men in the leading canoe. For an instant the paddlers hesitated, then with the greatest persistency redoubled their efforts.
"Rough luck!" growled Reeves. "I must wing some of them." Ere he picked up a second musket he drew his trusty automatic pistol and opened the magazine. Nine cartridges only remained.
Presently one of the negroes laid aside his paddle, and, standing in the bows of the canoe, levelled a huge gun that had once been the property of an elephant hunter.
Knowing that the charge might contain slugs, old nails, and a miscellaneous assortment of scrap iron, Reeves, who had no particular antipathy to a respectable bullet, ducked behind the transom of the boat, the lads having already taken refuge on the bottom boards.
With a resounding crash the elephant gun went off. Reeves instantly sprang to his feet to return the compliment, but the negro was no longer visible. His antiquated weapon had burst, sending him—a mangled corpse—into the river.
In the confusion the fugitives managed to gain a hundred yards; but the pursuers were not to be shaken off by an accident that is a common occurrence where "trade guns" are in general use. On and on they came, until within throwing distance, when a flight of spears was hurled with great precision, five or six being left quivering in the boat.
Reeves's reply was a charge of duck shot that put one canoe out of action. The others immediately diverged, and, forming into two lines, attempted to overtake the fugitives' boat on both quarters.
Hugh fired with successful results, while Gerald, handing a loaded musket to the correspondent, proceeded to recharge the first weapon.
But in spite of the initial success of the encounter the odds were greatly against the white men. With modern weapons the result would have been quickly decided, but the time taken up in reloading the flintlocks gave the blacks an advantage. They were closing again, and spears began to flash over the boat, or to sink deeply into her planking. Reeves realized that the time had come for desperate measures. Grasping his pistol, he fired seven shots in rapid succession into the crowd that manned the nearest canoe. The strange sight of a man literally pouring out a hail of bullets filled the negroes, with terror. Those who escaped the shots leapt overboard and swam for the nearest craft.
Again raising his weapon, the correspondent pointed it menacingly at the nearest "dug-out" on the other side. The effect was magical, for those who could swim jumped overboard, while those who could not cowered into the bottom of the canoe. The other canoes maintained a respectful distance, but had no intention of relinquishing the pursuit.
So far, good, Reeves thought; but what would happen when night fell?
"What's that?" exclaimed Gerald, as in a momentary lull in the shouts of the natives a distantpop, pop, pop, was borne to their ears.
Hugh and the correspondent listened intently for a few moments. The sound, whatever it might be, was coming nearer and nearer.
Suddenly Reeves raised a musket and fired into the air. Beyond a bend in the river the report of an answering shot reverberated between the tree-lined banks, while the rapid pulsation of an engine grew louder and louder.
The negroes heard the sounds too, and seized by panic they turned about and paddled upstream for dear life.
"We're safe, lads!" exclaimed Reeves, in a broken voice. "Look!"
Sweeping round the bend came a large white motor boat, covered from stem to stern with canvas awnings, while standing about a quick-firer in her bows were five or six blacks, dressed in a kind of zouave uniform—blue coats, red waistcoats, and baggy white trousers.
Almost before the three travellers could realize the turn things had taken, the launch was alongside, with the motor reversed to check her way. Under the canopy were two bronzed and bearded white men, dressed in soiled and creased white drill uniforms.
"Any damage?" asked one of the officers. "No? Good! Have a cigar. Come far?"
These questions, seemingly so commonplace after the trials and difficulties they had undergone, almost took the lads' breath away; but Reeves, knowing that the imperturbability of the Englishman abroad is generally a mask to conceal the emotions he is ashamed of betraying, merely accepted the proffered weed with a laconic "Thanks!"
The smoke—after his vain hankering for tobacco for months—raised him to the seventh heaven of delight.
"Come aboard; we'll tow you down to Nali," continued the officer. "My name's Jones, by the by. What's yours?"
"Reeves."
"Not the war correspondent!"
"What's left of him."
"By Jove, that's strange! Only the other day we had a batch of papers through, and I remember there was nearly a column devoted to your obituary."
"Very kind of the Press, I'm sure. Did they say what happened to me?"
"Only that an Italian airman saw the bodies of you and your two young companions lying in the desert, or in an oasis, rather. He dropped a bomb in the midst of the Arabs, and returned with the news. But how on earth did you manage to get here?"
It was a long story, and by the time that Reeves had finished his narrative the motor launch had reached the frontier post of Nali, seven hundred miles from the Gold Coast. Here good use was made of the telegraph, and by noon on the following day theLondon Intelligencecame out with double-leaded headlines, announcing the safe arrival of their missing correspondent and the two lads, whose disappearance had been the subject of much anxiety and speculation; while the news of the discovery of Croixilia aroused so much enthusiasm that long before Reeves reached the coast he received nearly a dozen tempting offers for his services as a lecturer in the principal towns of the United Kingdom.
* * * * *
Three weeks later Mr. Reeves—the "mister" had been dropped when beyond the pale of civilization—and his two charges again set foot in their native land.
Gerald was met by his parents and taken north, but the correspondent accompanied Hugh to his home at Shoreham, where the meeting between the lad and his parents can better be imagined than described.
"Our deepest thanks are due to you, Reeves," remarked Mr. Frazer, when the two men found themselves alone. "Now it's all over, one can look more calmly upon the situation; and I cannot help noticing that Hugh has changed considerably."
"In appearance?"
"And in manners. Hugh was undoubtedly a selfish lad, but now he seems to realize that there are others in the world besides himself. This experience has been the making of him. Having to go without luxuries, for instance, though discomfiting at the time, makes one doubly appreciate them when——"
"When you return home," concluded Reeves, contentedly replenishing his pipe.
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
At the Villafield Press, Glasgow, Scotland