CHAPTER XXI--WILLOUGHBY'S SCOUTSAn hour later a singular procession marched southward through the forest. At the head went a number of Msetu's scouts, with an advanced guard of strapping Rhodesian planters, young and middle-aged. Behind these, a detachment of Rhodesian native police, their broad black faces shining. Then, a happy throng of women and children, each bearing a bundle. These were followed by a number of white men and black, all wearing bandages about an arm or a leg or the head. Then, twenty or more couples of native soldiers with the Red Cross upon their sleeves, carrying field ambulances on which lay still, bandaged figures, white and black. Next, four Germans, among whom the stiff bulky form of Major von Rudenheim was conspicuous, and thirty odd askaris--prisoners guarded by Rhodesian police. Then Major Burnaby, with Tom Willoughby, Mwesa in close attendance behind. Then a large body of native porters, stepping lightly under the heavy burdens on their heads. Following these marched the whole body of the Wahehe fighting men, led by Mirambo; six of them drew a mountain gun; and finally, at an interval, the rearguard of British planters, volunteers in the service of the Empire.There is no need to relate the details of their uneventful journey. Next day, in a pelting rainstorm, they crossed the Neu Langenburg road, where their numbers were increased by two small detachments of Rhodesian police under British officers, whose watch upon the road had not been molested. Late on the third day the procession, weary, drenched, but at the top of high spirits, filed up the hill into the little town of Abercorn.It is perhaps worth while, however, to record two conversations.When the arrangements for the evacuation of the nullah had been made, Major Burnaby had leisure for a little talk with Tom Willoughby, over a bottle of excellent hock from the case Tom had captured on the Neu Langenburg road."Oh, that's all right," said the major, in response to Tom's warm expression of thanks. "You owe it to my old father-in-law, you know--Mr. Barkworth.""Indeed!""Yes: he took a fancy to you on the boat. Dear old man! His heart's as young as it was when I first met him in Uganda twenty years ago--when I was about your age. He was mightily perturbed about you when we got word that the mad dog had broken loose. Wrote off at once to Reinecke, whom he knew long ago, asking him to pass you across the border with a safe-conduct, and became quite ill when Reinecke replied that you had been accidentally killed. He gave a very circumstantial account of your accident, by the way.""He was a good liar," said Tom."Was?""Yes, he's dead--horribly. He came to attack me, and I collared him and put him on the island in the lake. I suppose he grew impatient when he heard the firing, couldn't wait for the end, and got his fellow-prisoners to make a sort of a raft. Our sentry deserted his post, with the most praiseworthy intentions, and Reinecke took advantage of his absence to launch the raft. He was attacked by crocodiles; Reinecke lunged at one, and toppled over. I saw the whole thing: the recollection makes me sick.""Poor devil! He was a tricky sort of fellow, according to Mr. Barkworth."Tom related the incidents that had led to his occupation of the nullah."He deserved no better fate," remarked Major Burnaby at the close of the story. "Fellows like him make one unjust, perhaps--I mean, one would rather not regard him as a typical German. Unhappily his countrymen are doing their best to make the name of Germany odious.""What are they doing, sir? What's the war about? Of course I've heard nothing."Major Burnaby gave an outline of the public events that led to the war--events which all the world knows."But the real origin of the war is Germany's tigerish greed," he said. "One can understand that a great nation, flushed with unexampled success, conscious of power and the possession of many good qualities which only an ass would deny, should look with a certain envy and jealousy on our little islands as the owners of a world-wide empire. There are wrong-headed and sentimental people at home who make excuses for her, ask how we could expect her to be content with the present position of things, say we deny her means of expansion, and so on. But they shut their eyes to the fundamental contrast between Germany and ourselves. Our Empire is a gradual, almost an accidental, growth: much of it has been so to speak thrust upon us: you've only to read history to know that. We have taken up the burden of rule in barbarous countries, or countries like India and Egypt, where civilisation had decayed, and which but for us would be either bear's gardens or hotbeds of slavery and oppression. I don't say that our motives have always been of the purest or our methods always the best; but I do say that we have never, as a state, set before us the deliberate aim of grabbing what doesn't belong to us, forcing all civilisations into our particular mould, and subjugating all other nations by sheer brutal terrorism. That is what Germany is doing. She hasn't a notion of honour. She was bound to respect the neutrality of Belgium; a few days before she threw her troops across the frontier she assured the Belgian Government that she had no intention of doing so. She forced on the war when Austria was hesitating, simply because she thought she saw a unique opportunity of gaining a quick and easy victory, smashing Russia, smashing France, grabbing valuable territory, filling her coffers with millions of foreign gold, and reaching a position in which every country in Europe, and ultimately in the whole world, would be her very humble tributary. She will allow nothing to stand in her way: no treaties, no scruples of honour, no considerations of humanity. She is simply Brute Force personified; the whole nation has gone mad in the worship of militarism; and she will never come to a better mind, there will be no security in this unhappy world, until her idols are broken by the application of the same force in overwhelming measure. That's our job, my dear fellow, and we must go through with it, whatever the cost."The other conversation took place in a planter's house at Abercorn. Mr. Barkworth had just heard from Tom's lips the full story of all that had happened to him since their parting on the landing stage at Bismarckburg."H'm!" ejaculated the old man. "Tom," he said, turning to his son-in-law, "he's your namesake. Eh? Tom's a good name--better than riches! Young Tom must have a commission, eh? Want to fight, young Tom?""Not particularly, sir. I mean, I don't want to fight; but there's only one thing to be done with a bully--hit him hard. That seems to be the position; and I'll do my best.""Sound doctrine, my lad. I'm a man of peace; but I read of a Man of Peace who once flogged a pack of rascals out of the Temple of Jerusalem. No soft words; but stinging whips. Please God, we'll whip Germany into good behaviour. But now, the practical point. Infantry? Cavalry? Artillery? What's it to be?""He seems rather good at organising scouts," Major Burnaby put in."H'm! Scouts very useful when we get seriously to work in those wilds. Willoughby's Scouts, why not? What do you say, young Tom?""I couldn't wish for anything better, sir. The Wahehe will be a nucleus: they're very keen.""They'll follow you like faithful dogs. I know them! Well, old Tom, you'll arrange it. Smuts is coming: fine fellow, Smuts: I know him. Willoughby's Scouts must be ready--'TOM WILLOUGHBY'S SCOUTS.'"PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BYRICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED,BRUNSWICK ST., STAMFORD ST., S.E. 1,AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.————A FEW STIRRING ROMANCESBy HERBERT STRANGThe Air PatrolA story of the North-West Frontier.Illustrated in colour by CYRUS CUNEO.In this hook Mr. Strang looks ahead--and other books have already proved him a prophet of surprising skill--to a time when there is a great Mongolian Empire whose army sweeps down on the North-West Frontier of India. His two heroes luckily have an aeroplane, and with the help of a few Pathan miners they hold a pass in the Hindu Kush against a swarm of Mongols, long enough to prevent the cutting of the communications of the Indian army operating in Afghanistan. The qualities which marked Mr. Strang's story, "The Air Scout," and won extraordinarily high commendation from Lord Roberts, Lord Curzon, and others, as well as from theSpectatorand other great journals, are again strikingly displayed; and the combination of thrilling adventure with an Imperial problem and excellent writing, adds one more to this author's long list of successes."An exceptionally good book, written moreover in excellent style."--Times."'The Air Patrol' is really a masterpiece."--Morning Post.The Air ScoutA Story of National Defence.Illustrated in Colour by W. R. S. STOTT.The problems of National Defence are being discussed with more and more care and attention, not only in Great Britain, but also in all parts of the Empire. In this story Mr. Strang imagines a Chinese descent upon Australia, and carries his hero through a series of exciting adventures, in which the value of national spirit, organisation, and discipline is exemplified. The important part which the aeroplane will play in warfare is recognised, and the thousands of readers who have delighted in the author's previous stories of aviation will find this new book after their own heart.LORD ROBERTS wrote:--"It is capital reading, and should interest more than boys. Your forecast is so good that I can only hope the future may not bring to Australia such a struggle as the one you so graphically describe."LORD CURZON writes:--"I have read with great pleasure your book, 'The Air Scout.' It seems to me to be a capital story, full of life and movement: and further, it preaches the best of all secular gospels, patriotism and co-operation.""We congratulate Mr. Strang on this fine book--one of the best fighting stories we have read."--Morning Post.ROMANCES BY HERBERT STRANGPalm Tree IslandIllustrated in Colour by ARCHIBALD WEBB.In this story two boys are left on a volcanic island in the South Seas, destitute of everything but their clothes. The story relates how they provided themselves with food and shelter, with tools and weapons; how they fought with wild dogs and sea monsters; and how, when they have settled down to a comfortable life under the shadow of the volcano, their peace is disturbed by the advent of savages and a crew of mutinous Englishmen. The savages are driven away; the mutineers are subdued through the boys' ingenuity; and they ultimately sail away in a vessel of their own construction. In no other book has the author more admirably blended amusement with instruction."Written so well that there is not a dull page in the book."--The World.Rob the RangerA Story of the Fight for Canada.With Illustrations in Colour and Maps.Rob Somers, son of an English settler in New York State, sets out with Lone Pete, a trapper, in pursuit of an Indian raiding party which has destroyed his home and carried off his younger brother. He is captured and taken to Quebec, where he finds his brother in strange circumstances, and escapes with him in the dead of the winter, in company with a little band of stout-hearted New Englanders.General Baden-Powell, in recommending books to the Boy Scouts, places "Rob the Ranger" first among the great scouting stories.One of Clive's HeroesA Story of the Fight for India.With Illustrations in Colour and Maps.Desmond Burke goes out to India to seek his fortune, and is sold by a false friend of his, one Marmaduke Diggle, to the famous Pirate of Gheria. But he escapes, runs away with one of the Pirate's own vessels, and meets Colonel Clive, whom he assists to capture the Pirate's stronghold. His subsequent adventures on the other side of India--how he saves a valuable cargo for his friend Mr. Merriman, and assists Clive in his fights against Sirajuddaula--are told with great spirit and humour."An absorbing story.... The narrative not only thrills, but also weaves skilfully out of fact and fiction a clear impression of our fierce struggle for India."--Athenaeum.*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKTOM WILLOUGHBY'S SCOUTS***
CHAPTER XXI--WILLOUGHBY'S SCOUTSAn hour later a singular procession marched southward through the forest. At the head went a number of Msetu's scouts, with an advanced guard of strapping Rhodesian planters, young and middle-aged. Behind these, a detachment of Rhodesian native police, their broad black faces shining. Then, a happy throng of women and children, each bearing a bundle. These were followed by a number of white men and black, all wearing bandages about an arm or a leg or the head. Then, twenty or more couples of native soldiers with the Red Cross upon their sleeves, carrying field ambulances on which lay still, bandaged figures, white and black. Next, four Germans, among whom the stiff bulky form of Major von Rudenheim was conspicuous, and thirty odd askaris--prisoners guarded by Rhodesian police. Then Major Burnaby, with Tom Willoughby, Mwesa in close attendance behind. Then a large body of native porters, stepping lightly under the heavy burdens on their heads. Following these marched the whole body of the Wahehe fighting men, led by Mirambo; six of them drew a mountain gun; and finally, at an interval, the rearguard of British planters, volunteers in the service of the Empire.There is no need to relate the details of their uneventful journey. Next day, in a pelting rainstorm, they crossed the Neu Langenburg road, where their numbers were increased by two small detachments of Rhodesian police under British officers, whose watch upon the road had not been molested. Late on the third day the procession, weary, drenched, but at the top of high spirits, filed up the hill into the little town of Abercorn.It is perhaps worth while, however, to record two conversations.When the arrangements for the evacuation of the nullah had been made, Major Burnaby had leisure for a little talk with Tom Willoughby, over a bottle of excellent hock from the case Tom had captured on the Neu Langenburg road."Oh, that's all right," said the major, in response to Tom's warm expression of thanks. "You owe it to my old father-in-law, you know--Mr. Barkworth.""Indeed!""Yes: he took a fancy to you on the boat. Dear old man! His heart's as young as it was when I first met him in Uganda twenty years ago--when I was about your age. He was mightily perturbed about you when we got word that the mad dog had broken loose. Wrote off at once to Reinecke, whom he knew long ago, asking him to pass you across the border with a safe-conduct, and became quite ill when Reinecke replied that you had been accidentally killed. He gave a very circumstantial account of your accident, by the way.""He was a good liar," said Tom."Was?""Yes, he's dead--horribly. He came to attack me, and I collared him and put him on the island in the lake. I suppose he grew impatient when he heard the firing, couldn't wait for the end, and got his fellow-prisoners to make a sort of a raft. Our sentry deserted his post, with the most praiseworthy intentions, and Reinecke took advantage of his absence to launch the raft. He was attacked by crocodiles; Reinecke lunged at one, and toppled over. I saw the whole thing: the recollection makes me sick.""Poor devil! He was a tricky sort of fellow, according to Mr. Barkworth."Tom related the incidents that had led to his occupation of the nullah."He deserved no better fate," remarked Major Burnaby at the close of the story. "Fellows like him make one unjust, perhaps--I mean, one would rather not regard him as a typical German. Unhappily his countrymen are doing their best to make the name of Germany odious.""What are they doing, sir? What's the war about? Of course I've heard nothing."Major Burnaby gave an outline of the public events that led to the war--events which all the world knows."But the real origin of the war is Germany's tigerish greed," he said. "One can understand that a great nation, flushed with unexampled success, conscious of power and the possession of many good qualities which only an ass would deny, should look with a certain envy and jealousy on our little islands as the owners of a world-wide empire. There are wrong-headed and sentimental people at home who make excuses for her, ask how we could expect her to be content with the present position of things, say we deny her means of expansion, and so on. But they shut their eyes to the fundamental contrast between Germany and ourselves. Our Empire is a gradual, almost an accidental, growth: much of it has been so to speak thrust upon us: you've only to read history to know that. We have taken up the burden of rule in barbarous countries, or countries like India and Egypt, where civilisation had decayed, and which but for us would be either bear's gardens or hotbeds of slavery and oppression. I don't say that our motives have always been of the purest or our methods always the best; but I do say that we have never, as a state, set before us the deliberate aim of grabbing what doesn't belong to us, forcing all civilisations into our particular mould, and subjugating all other nations by sheer brutal terrorism. That is what Germany is doing. She hasn't a notion of honour. She was bound to respect the neutrality of Belgium; a few days before she threw her troops across the frontier she assured the Belgian Government that she had no intention of doing so. She forced on the war when Austria was hesitating, simply because she thought she saw a unique opportunity of gaining a quick and easy victory, smashing Russia, smashing France, grabbing valuable territory, filling her coffers with millions of foreign gold, and reaching a position in which every country in Europe, and ultimately in the whole world, would be her very humble tributary. She will allow nothing to stand in her way: no treaties, no scruples of honour, no considerations of humanity. She is simply Brute Force personified; the whole nation has gone mad in the worship of militarism; and she will never come to a better mind, there will be no security in this unhappy world, until her idols are broken by the application of the same force in overwhelming measure. That's our job, my dear fellow, and we must go through with it, whatever the cost."The other conversation took place in a planter's house at Abercorn. Mr. Barkworth had just heard from Tom's lips the full story of all that had happened to him since their parting on the landing stage at Bismarckburg."H'm!" ejaculated the old man. "Tom," he said, turning to his son-in-law, "he's your namesake. Eh? Tom's a good name--better than riches! Young Tom must have a commission, eh? Want to fight, young Tom?""Not particularly, sir. I mean, I don't want to fight; but there's only one thing to be done with a bully--hit him hard. That seems to be the position; and I'll do my best.""Sound doctrine, my lad. I'm a man of peace; but I read of a Man of Peace who once flogged a pack of rascals out of the Temple of Jerusalem. No soft words; but stinging whips. Please God, we'll whip Germany into good behaviour. But now, the practical point. Infantry? Cavalry? Artillery? What's it to be?""He seems rather good at organising scouts," Major Burnaby put in."H'm! Scouts very useful when we get seriously to work in those wilds. Willoughby's Scouts, why not? What do you say, young Tom?""I couldn't wish for anything better, sir. The Wahehe will be a nucleus: they're very keen.""They'll follow you like faithful dogs. I know them! Well, old Tom, you'll arrange it. Smuts is coming: fine fellow, Smuts: I know him. Willoughby's Scouts must be ready--'TOM WILLOUGHBY'S SCOUTS.'"PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BYRICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED,BRUNSWICK ST., STAMFORD ST., S.E. 1,AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.————A FEW STIRRING ROMANCESBy HERBERT STRANGThe Air PatrolA story of the North-West Frontier.Illustrated in colour by CYRUS CUNEO.In this hook Mr. Strang looks ahead--and other books have already proved him a prophet of surprising skill--to a time when there is a great Mongolian Empire whose army sweeps down on the North-West Frontier of India. His two heroes luckily have an aeroplane, and with the help of a few Pathan miners they hold a pass in the Hindu Kush against a swarm of Mongols, long enough to prevent the cutting of the communications of the Indian army operating in Afghanistan. The qualities which marked Mr. Strang's story, "The Air Scout," and won extraordinarily high commendation from Lord Roberts, Lord Curzon, and others, as well as from theSpectatorand other great journals, are again strikingly displayed; and the combination of thrilling adventure with an Imperial problem and excellent writing, adds one more to this author's long list of successes."An exceptionally good book, written moreover in excellent style."--Times."'The Air Patrol' is really a masterpiece."--Morning Post.The Air ScoutA Story of National Defence.Illustrated in Colour by W. R. S. STOTT.The problems of National Defence are being discussed with more and more care and attention, not only in Great Britain, but also in all parts of the Empire. In this story Mr. Strang imagines a Chinese descent upon Australia, and carries his hero through a series of exciting adventures, in which the value of national spirit, organisation, and discipline is exemplified. The important part which the aeroplane will play in warfare is recognised, and the thousands of readers who have delighted in the author's previous stories of aviation will find this new book after their own heart.LORD ROBERTS wrote:--"It is capital reading, and should interest more than boys. Your forecast is so good that I can only hope the future may not bring to Australia such a struggle as the one you so graphically describe."LORD CURZON writes:--"I have read with great pleasure your book, 'The Air Scout.' It seems to me to be a capital story, full of life and movement: and further, it preaches the best of all secular gospels, patriotism and co-operation.""We congratulate Mr. Strang on this fine book--one of the best fighting stories we have read."--Morning Post.ROMANCES BY HERBERT STRANGPalm Tree IslandIllustrated in Colour by ARCHIBALD WEBB.In this story two boys are left on a volcanic island in the South Seas, destitute of everything but their clothes. The story relates how they provided themselves with food and shelter, with tools and weapons; how they fought with wild dogs and sea monsters; and how, when they have settled down to a comfortable life under the shadow of the volcano, their peace is disturbed by the advent of savages and a crew of mutinous Englishmen. The savages are driven away; the mutineers are subdued through the boys' ingenuity; and they ultimately sail away in a vessel of their own construction. In no other book has the author more admirably blended amusement with instruction."Written so well that there is not a dull page in the book."--The World.Rob the RangerA Story of the Fight for Canada.With Illustrations in Colour and Maps.Rob Somers, son of an English settler in New York State, sets out with Lone Pete, a trapper, in pursuit of an Indian raiding party which has destroyed his home and carried off his younger brother. He is captured and taken to Quebec, where he finds his brother in strange circumstances, and escapes with him in the dead of the winter, in company with a little band of stout-hearted New Englanders.General Baden-Powell, in recommending books to the Boy Scouts, places "Rob the Ranger" first among the great scouting stories.One of Clive's HeroesA Story of the Fight for India.With Illustrations in Colour and Maps.Desmond Burke goes out to India to seek his fortune, and is sold by a false friend of his, one Marmaduke Diggle, to the famous Pirate of Gheria. But he escapes, runs away with one of the Pirate's own vessels, and meets Colonel Clive, whom he assists to capture the Pirate's stronghold. His subsequent adventures on the other side of India--how he saves a valuable cargo for his friend Mr. Merriman, and assists Clive in his fights against Sirajuddaula--are told with great spirit and humour."An absorbing story.... The narrative not only thrills, but also weaves skilfully out of fact and fiction a clear impression of our fierce struggle for India."--Athenaeum.*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKTOM WILLOUGHBY'S SCOUTS***
An hour later a singular procession marched southward through the forest. At the head went a number of Msetu's scouts, with an advanced guard of strapping Rhodesian planters, young and middle-aged. Behind these, a detachment of Rhodesian native police, their broad black faces shining. Then, a happy throng of women and children, each bearing a bundle. These were followed by a number of white men and black, all wearing bandages about an arm or a leg or the head. Then, twenty or more couples of native soldiers with the Red Cross upon their sleeves, carrying field ambulances on which lay still, bandaged figures, white and black. Next, four Germans, among whom the stiff bulky form of Major von Rudenheim was conspicuous, and thirty odd askaris--prisoners guarded by Rhodesian police. Then Major Burnaby, with Tom Willoughby, Mwesa in close attendance behind. Then a large body of native porters, stepping lightly under the heavy burdens on their heads. Following these marched the whole body of the Wahehe fighting men, led by Mirambo; six of them drew a mountain gun; and finally, at an interval, the rearguard of British planters, volunteers in the service of the Empire.
There is no need to relate the details of their uneventful journey. Next day, in a pelting rainstorm, they crossed the Neu Langenburg road, where their numbers were increased by two small detachments of Rhodesian police under British officers, whose watch upon the road had not been molested. Late on the third day the procession, weary, drenched, but at the top of high spirits, filed up the hill into the little town of Abercorn.
It is perhaps worth while, however, to record two conversations.
When the arrangements for the evacuation of the nullah had been made, Major Burnaby had leisure for a little talk with Tom Willoughby, over a bottle of excellent hock from the case Tom had captured on the Neu Langenburg road.
"Oh, that's all right," said the major, in response to Tom's warm expression of thanks. "You owe it to my old father-in-law, you know--Mr. Barkworth."
"Indeed!"
"Yes: he took a fancy to you on the boat. Dear old man! His heart's as young as it was when I first met him in Uganda twenty years ago--when I was about your age. He was mightily perturbed about you when we got word that the mad dog had broken loose. Wrote off at once to Reinecke, whom he knew long ago, asking him to pass you across the border with a safe-conduct, and became quite ill when Reinecke replied that you had been accidentally killed. He gave a very circumstantial account of your accident, by the way."
"He was a good liar," said Tom.
"Was?"
"Yes, he's dead--horribly. He came to attack me, and I collared him and put him on the island in the lake. I suppose he grew impatient when he heard the firing, couldn't wait for the end, and got his fellow-prisoners to make a sort of a raft. Our sentry deserted his post, with the most praiseworthy intentions, and Reinecke took advantage of his absence to launch the raft. He was attacked by crocodiles; Reinecke lunged at one, and toppled over. I saw the whole thing: the recollection makes me sick."
"Poor devil! He was a tricky sort of fellow, according to Mr. Barkworth."
Tom related the incidents that had led to his occupation of the nullah.
"He deserved no better fate," remarked Major Burnaby at the close of the story. "Fellows like him make one unjust, perhaps--I mean, one would rather not regard him as a typical German. Unhappily his countrymen are doing their best to make the name of Germany odious."
"What are they doing, sir? What's the war about? Of course I've heard nothing."
Major Burnaby gave an outline of the public events that led to the war--events which all the world knows.
"But the real origin of the war is Germany's tigerish greed," he said. "One can understand that a great nation, flushed with unexampled success, conscious of power and the possession of many good qualities which only an ass would deny, should look with a certain envy and jealousy on our little islands as the owners of a world-wide empire. There are wrong-headed and sentimental people at home who make excuses for her, ask how we could expect her to be content with the present position of things, say we deny her means of expansion, and so on. But they shut their eyes to the fundamental contrast between Germany and ourselves. Our Empire is a gradual, almost an accidental, growth: much of it has been so to speak thrust upon us: you've only to read history to know that. We have taken up the burden of rule in barbarous countries, or countries like India and Egypt, where civilisation had decayed, and which but for us would be either bear's gardens or hotbeds of slavery and oppression. I don't say that our motives have always been of the purest or our methods always the best; but I do say that we have never, as a state, set before us the deliberate aim of grabbing what doesn't belong to us, forcing all civilisations into our particular mould, and subjugating all other nations by sheer brutal terrorism. That is what Germany is doing. She hasn't a notion of honour. She was bound to respect the neutrality of Belgium; a few days before she threw her troops across the frontier she assured the Belgian Government that she had no intention of doing so. She forced on the war when Austria was hesitating, simply because she thought she saw a unique opportunity of gaining a quick and easy victory, smashing Russia, smashing France, grabbing valuable territory, filling her coffers with millions of foreign gold, and reaching a position in which every country in Europe, and ultimately in the whole world, would be her very humble tributary. She will allow nothing to stand in her way: no treaties, no scruples of honour, no considerations of humanity. She is simply Brute Force personified; the whole nation has gone mad in the worship of militarism; and she will never come to a better mind, there will be no security in this unhappy world, until her idols are broken by the application of the same force in overwhelming measure. That's our job, my dear fellow, and we must go through with it, whatever the cost."
The other conversation took place in a planter's house at Abercorn. Mr. Barkworth had just heard from Tom's lips the full story of all that had happened to him since their parting on the landing stage at Bismarckburg.
"H'm!" ejaculated the old man. "Tom," he said, turning to his son-in-law, "he's your namesake. Eh? Tom's a good name--better than riches! Young Tom must have a commission, eh? Want to fight, young Tom?"
"Not particularly, sir. I mean, I don't want to fight; but there's only one thing to be done with a bully--hit him hard. That seems to be the position; and I'll do my best."
"Sound doctrine, my lad. I'm a man of peace; but I read of a Man of Peace who once flogged a pack of rascals out of the Temple of Jerusalem. No soft words; but stinging whips. Please God, we'll whip Germany into good behaviour. But now, the practical point. Infantry? Cavalry? Artillery? What's it to be?"
"He seems rather good at organising scouts," Major Burnaby put in.
"H'm! Scouts very useful when we get seriously to work in those wilds. Willoughby's Scouts, why not? What do you say, young Tom?"
"I couldn't wish for anything better, sir. The Wahehe will be a nucleus: they're very keen."
"They'll follow you like faithful dogs. I know them! Well, old Tom, you'll arrange it. Smuts is coming: fine fellow, Smuts: I know him. Willoughby's Scouts must be ready--
'TOM WILLOUGHBY'S SCOUTS.'"
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BYRICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED,BRUNSWICK ST., STAMFORD ST., S.E. 1,AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.
————
————
A FEW STIRRING ROMANCES
By HERBERT STRANG
The Air Patrol
A story of the North-West Frontier.
Illustrated in colour by CYRUS CUNEO.
In this hook Mr. Strang looks ahead--and other books have already proved him a prophet of surprising skill--to a time when there is a great Mongolian Empire whose army sweeps down on the North-West Frontier of India. His two heroes luckily have an aeroplane, and with the help of a few Pathan miners they hold a pass in the Hindu Kush against a swarm of Mongols, long enough to prevent the cutting of the communications of the Indian army operating in Afghanistan. The qualities which marked Mr. Strang's story, "The Air Scout," and won extraordinarily high commendation from Lord Roberts, Lord Curzon, and others, as well as from theSpectatorand other great journals, are again strikingly displayed; and the combination of thrilling adventure with an Imperial problem and excellent writing, adds one more to this author's long list of successes.
"An exceptionally good book, written moreover in excellent style."--Times.
"'The Air Patrol' is really a masterpiece."--Morning Post.
The Air Scout
A Story of National Defence.
Illustrated in Colour by W. R. S. STOTT.
The problems of National Defence are being discussed with more and more care and attention, not only in Great Britain, but also in all parts of the Empire. In this story Mr. Strang imagines a Chinese descent upon Australia, and carries his hero through a series of exciting adventures, in which the value of national spirit, organisation, and discipline is exemplified. The important part which the aeroplane will play in warfare is recognised, and the thousands of readers who have delighted in the author's previous stories of aviation will find this new book after their own heart.
LORD ROBERTS wrote:--"It is capital reading, and should interest more than boys. Your forecast is so good that I can only hope the future may not bring to Australia such a struggle as the one you so graphically describe."
LORD CURZON writes:--"I have read with great pleasure your book, 'The Air Scout.' It seems to me to be a capital story, full of life and movement: and further, it preaches the best of all secular gospels, patriotism and co-operation."
"We congratulate Mr. Strang on this fine book--one of the best fighting stories we have read."--Morning Post.
ROMANCES BY HERBERT STRANG
Palm Tree Island
Illustrated in Colour by ARCHIBALD WEBB.
In this story two boys are left on a volcanic island in the South Seas, destitute of everything but their clothes. The story relates how they provided themselves with food and shelter, with tools and weapons; how they fought with wild dogs and sea monsters; and how, when they have settled down to a comfortable life under the shadow of the volcano, their peace is disturbed by the advent of savages and a crew of mutinous Englishmen. The savages are driven away; the mutineers are subdued through the boys' ingenuity; and they ultimately sail away in a vessel of their own construction. In no other book has the author more admirably blended amusement with instruction.
"Written so well that there is not a dull page in the book."--The World.
Rob the Ranger
A Story of the Fight for Canada.
With Illustrations in Colour and Maps.
Rob Somers, son of an English settler in New York State, sets out with Lone Pete, a trapper, in pursuit of an Indian raiding party which has destroyed his home and carried off his younger brother. He is captured and taken to Quebec, where he finds his brother in strange circumstances, and escapes with him in the dead of the winter, in company with a little band of stout-hearted New Englanders.
General Baden-Powell, in recommending books to the Boy Scouts, places "Rob the Ranger" first among the great scouting stories.
One of Clive's Heroes
A Story of the Fight for India.
With Illustrations in Colour and Maps.
Desmond Burke goes out to India to seek his fortune, and is sold by a false friend of his, one Marmaduke Diggle, to the famous Pirate of Gheria. But he escapes, runs away with one of the Pirate's own vessels, and meets Colonel Clive, whom he assists to capture the Pirate's stronghold. His subsequent adventures on the other side of India--how he saves a valuable cargo for his friend Mr. Merriman, and assists Clive in his fights against Sirajuddaula--are told with great spirit and humour.
"An absorbing story.... The narrative not only thrills, but also weaves skilfully out of fact and fiction a clear impression of our fierce struggle for India."--Athenaeum.
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKTOM WILLOUGHBY'S SCOUTS***