The Keepers of the King's Peace by Edgar Wallace (novels for students TXT) 📖

expense of his neighbours there was a great happening in the Morjaba country.

S'kobi, the fat chief, had watched the departure of his warriors with something like relief. He was gratified, moreover (native-like), by the fact that he had confounded Sanders. But when the Commissioner had gone and S'kobi remembered all that he had said, a great doubt settled like a pall upon his mind. For three days he sat, a dejected figure, on the high carved stool of state before his house, and at the end of that time he summoned S'gono, the M'joro.

"S'gono," said he, "I am troubled in my stomach because of certain things which our lord Sandi has said."

Thereupon he told the plebeian councillor much of what Sanders had said.

"And now my M'gimi are with Bosambo of the Ochori, and he sells them to this people and that for so much treasure and food."

"Lord," said S'gono, "is my word nothing? Did I not say that I would raise spears more wonderful than the M'gimi? Give me leave, King, and you shall find an army that shall grow in a night. I, S'gono, son of Mocharlabili Yoka, say this!"

So messengers went forth to all the villages of the Morjaba calling the young men to the king's hut, and on the third week there stood on a plateau beneath the king's palaver house a most wonderful host.

[Pg 186]"Let them march across the plain and make the Dance of Killing," said the satisfied king, and S'gono hesitated.

"Lord King," he pleaded, "these are new soldiers, and they are not yet wise in the ways of warriors. Also they will not take the chiefs I gave them, but have chosen their own, so that each company have two leaders who say evil things of one another."

S'kobi opened his round eyes.

"The M'gimi did not do this," he said dubiously, "for when their captains spoke they leapt first with one leg and then with the other, which was beautiful to see and very terrifying to our enemies."

"Lord," begged the agitated S'gono, "give me the space of a moon and they shall leap with both legs and dance in a most curious manner."

A spy retailed this promise to a certain giant chief of the Great King who was sitting on the Morjaba slopes of the mountains with four thousand spears, awaiting a favourable moment to ford the river which separated him from the rich lands of the northern Morjaba.

This giant heard the tidings with interest.

"Soon they shall leap without heads," he said, "for without the M'gimi they are little children. For twenty seasons we have waited, and now comes our fine night. Go you, B'furo, to the Chief of The-Folk-beyond-the-Swamp and tell him that when he sees three fires on this mountain he shall [Pg 187]attack across the swamp by the road which he knows."

It was a well-planned campaign which the Great King's generals and the Chief of The-People-beyond-the-Marsh had organized. With the passing of the warrior caste the enemies of the Morjaba had moved swiftly. The path across the swamp had been known for years, but the M'gimi had had one of their camps so situated that no enemy could debouch across, and had so ordered their dispositions that the northern river boundary was automatically safeguarded.

Now S'gono was a man of the fields, a grower and seller of maize and a breeder of goats. And he had planned his new army as he would plan a new garden, on the basis that the nearer the army was to the capital, the easier it was to maintain. In consequence the river-ford was unguarded, and there were two thousand spears across the marshes before a scared minister of war apprehended any danger.

He flung his new troops against the Great King's chief captain in a desperate attempt to hold back the principal invader. At the same time, more by luck than good generalship, he pushed the evil people of the marsh back to their native element.

For two days the Morjaba fought desperately if unskilfully against the seasoned troops of the Great King, while messengers hurried east and south, seeking help.

[Pg 188]Bosambo's intelligence department may have shown remarkable prescience in unearthing the plot against the peace and security of the Morjaba, or it may have been (and this is Sanders's theory) that Bosambo was on his way to the Morjaba with a cock and bull story of imminent danger. He was on the frontier when the king's messenger came, and Bosambo returned with the courier to treat in person.

"Five thousand loads of corn I will give you, Bosambo," said the king, "also a hundred bags of salt. Also two hundred women who shall be slaves in your house."

There was some bargaining, for Bosambo had no need of slaves, but urgently wanted goats. In the end he brought up his hirelings, and the people of the Morjaba city literally fell on the necks of the returned M'gimi.

The enemy had forced the northern defences and were half-way to the city when the M'gimi fell upon their flank.

The giant chief of the Great King's army saw the ordered ranks of the old army driving in his flank, and sent for his own captain.

"Go swiftly to our lord, the King, and say that I am a dead man."

He spoke no more than the truth, for he fell at the hand of Bosambo, who made a mental resolve to increase his demand on the herds of S'kobi in consequence.

For the greater part of a month Bosambo was a [Pg 189]welcome visitor, and at the end of that time he made his preparations to depart.

Carriers and herdsmen drove or portered his reward back to the Ochori country, marching one day ahead of the main body.

The M'gimi were summoned for the march at dawn, but at dawn Bosambo found himself alone on the plateau, save for the few Ochori headmen who had accompanied him on his journey.

"Lord," said S'kobi, "my fine soldiers do not go with you, for I have seen how wise is Sandi who is my father and my mother."

Bosambo choked, and as was usual in moments of intense emotion, found refuge in English.

"Dam' nigger!" he said wrathfully, "I bring um army, I feed um, I keep um proper—you pinch um! Black t'ief! Pig! You bad feller! I speak you bad for N'poloyani—him fine feller."

"Lord," said the uncomprehending king, "I see that you are like Sandi for you speak his tongue. He also said 'Dam' very loudly. I think it is the word white folk say when they are happy."

Bosambo met Bones hurrying to the scene of the fighting, and told his tale.

"Lord," said he in conclusion, "what was I to do, for you told nothing of the ways of N'poloyani when his army was stolen from him. Tell me now, Tibbetti, what this man would have done."

[Pg 190]But Bones shook his head severely.

"This I cannot tell you, Bosambo," he said, "for if I do you will tell others, and my lord N'poloyani will never forgive me."

[Pg 191]

CHAPTER X THE WATERS OF MADNESS

Unexpected things happen in the Territories which Mr. Commissioner Sanders rules. As for example: Bones had gone down to the beach to "take the mail." This usually meant no more than receiving a mail-bag wildly flung from a dancing surf-boat. On this occasion Bones was surprised to discover that the boat had beached and had landed, not only the mail, but a stranger with his baggage.

He was a clean-shaven, plump man, in spotless white, and he greeted Bones with a friendly nod. "Morning!" he said. "I've got your mail."

Bones extended his hand and took the bag without evidence of any particular enthusiasm.

"Sanders about?" asked the stranger.

"Mr. Sanders is in residence, sir," said Bones, ponderously polite.

The other laughed. "Show the way," he said briskly.

Bones looked at the new-comer from the ventilator of his pith helmet to the soles of his pipe-clayed shoes. "Excuse me, dear old sir," he [Pg 192]said, "have I the honour of addressin' the Secretary of State for War?"

"No," answered the other in surprise. "What made you think that?"

"Because," said Bones, with rising wrath, "he's the only fellow that needn't say 'please' to me."

The man roared with laughter. "Sorry," he said. "Please show me the way."

"Follow me, sir," said Bones.

Sanders was not "in residence," being, in fact, inspecting some recent—and native—repairs to the boilers of the Zaire.

The stranger drew up a chair on the stoep without invitation and seated himself. He looked around. Patricia Hamilton was at the far end of the stoep, reading a book. She had glanced up just long enough to note and wonder at the new arrival. "Deuced pretty girl that," said the stranger, lighting a cigar.

"I beg your pardon?" said Bones.

"I say that is a deuced pretty girl," said the stranger.

"And you're a deuced brute, dear sir," said Bones, "but hitherto I have not commented on the fact."

The man looked up quickly. "What are you here," he asked—"a clerk or something?"

Bones did not so much as flush. "Oh, no," he said sweetly. "I am an officer of Houssas—rank, lieutenant. My task is to tame the uncivilized [Pg 193]beast an' entertain the civilized pig with a selection of music. Would you like to hear our gramophone?"

The new-comer frowned. What brilliant effort of persiflage was to follow will never be known, for at that moment came Sanders.

The stranger rose and produced a pocket-book, from which he extracted a card and a letter. "Good morning, Commissioner!" he said. "My name's Corklan—P. T. Corklan, of Corklan, Besset and Lyons."

"Indeed," said Sanders.

"I've got a letter for you," said the man.

Sanders took the note, opened it, and read. It bore the neat signature of an Under-Secretary of State and the embossed heading of the Extra-Territorial Office, and it commended Mr. P. T. Corklan to Mr. Commissioner Sanders, and requested him to let Mr. Corklan pass without let or hindrance through the Territories, and to render him every assistance "compatible with exigencies of the Service" in his "inquiries into sugar production from the sweet potato."

"You should have taken this to the Administrator," said Sanders, "and it should bear his signature."

"There's the letter," said the man shortly. "If that's not enough, and the signature of the Secretary of State isn't sufficient, I'm going straight back to England and tell him so."

"You may go to the devil and tell him so," said [Pg 194]Sanders calmly; "but you do not pass into these Territories until I have received telegraphic authority from my chief. Bones, take this man to your hut, and let your people do what they can for him." And he turned and walked into the house.

"You shall hear about this," said Mr. Corklan, picking up his baggage.

"This way, dear old pilgrim," said Bones.

"Who's going to carry my bag?"

"Your name escapes me," said Bones, "but, if you'll glance at your visitin' card, you will find the name of the porter legibly inscribed."

Sanders compressed the circumstances into a hundred-word telegram worded in his own economical style.

It happened that the Administrator was away on a shooting trip, and it was his cautious secretary who replied—

"Administration to Sanders.—Duplicate authority here. Let Corklan proceed at own risk. Warn him dangers."

"You had better go along and tell him," said Sanders. "He can leave at once, and the sooner the better."

Bones delivered the message. The man was sitting on his host's bed, and the floor was covered with cigar ash. Worst abomination of all, was a large bottle of whisky, which he had produced from one of his bags, and a reeking glass, which he had produced from Bones's sideboard.

[Pg 195]"So I can go to-night, can I?" said Mr. Corklan. "That's all right. Now, what about conveyance, hey?"

Bones had now reached the stage where he had ceased to be annoyed, and when he found some interest in the situation. "What sort of conveyance would you like, sir?" he asked curiously.

(If you can imagine him pausing half a bar before every "sir," you may value its emphasis.)

"Isn't there a steamer I can have?" demanded the man. "Hasn't Sanders got a Government steamer?"

"Pardon my swooning," said Bones, sinking into a chair.

"Well, how am I going to get up?" asked the man.

"Are you a good swimmer?" demanded Bones innocently.

"Look here," said Mr. Corklan, "you aren't a bad fellow. I rather like you."

"I'm sorry," said Bones simply.

"I rather like you," repeated Mr. Corklan. "You might give me a little help."

"It is very unlikely that I shall," said Bones. "But produce your proposition, dear old adventurer."

"That is just what I am," said the other. He bit off the end of another cigar and lit it with the