By Veldt and Kopje Part 17

"But, under such conditions, how on earth does the place hold together.

What is the cement?"

"That was a great puzzle to me at first; however, now that I have become accustomed to the place, all seems natural enough. The fact is, these people cannot be judged by the standard of any others. Most of them have risen from a much lower social plane and in the rising have acquired an exaggerated idea of their own individual importance. Each one is continually polis.h.i.+ng up his dignity as though it were a little tin plate and resenting imaginary specks of rust. Then they all run in so many small grooves, and each groove appears to the one who runs in it to be the most important one in the world. The curious thing is that they are all conscientiously devoted to the missionary cause. They certainly do their work well."

"I suppose they all think they are Christians in the fullest sense of the term?"

"Rather!--well, you heard Mr Mactavish to-day. But you ought to hear them at the prayer-meetings. And many of them know their Bibles nearly by heart. It is all very curious. I used to talk to uncle about these things, but he got angry. I once suggested, after a very bad general quarrel, that he should make them all come to our house and there kiss and make friends."

"Surely, Mr Mactavish fell in with that proposal?"

"I said I made the suggestion to my uncle, not to Mr Mactavish."

"Well, if you want to give the plan a chance of success, propose it next time to Mr Mactavish."

"Well, since you are so interested, I make you a present of the notion.

Of course, I do not come into the scheme; I have fallen out with no one.

You might point out that they would only be following the example of the early Christians."

"The pioneers of a new evangel should always practise what they preach."

"Very well, you be the pioneer. You can preach to Mr Mactavish and practise on Miss Mellish and Miss Angus. But I must now go in. I hope we will have many more long talks. Lest you should become concerted, I will tell you that the great dread of my life is lest I should acquire a Scotch accent, so I value your speech highly as a corrective."

"It has become available only just in time. I would not, for the world, say that your accent is Scotch, but you must excuse my saying that now and then there is just a little suggestion of, one might say, finely-ground oatmeal, in your otherwise irreproachable speech. Yes, I think you cannot do better than cultivate my acquaintance as much as possible."

Jeanie, after flas.h.i.+ng a look of indignation at Benson, darted into the house.

_Three_.

Life at the Inst.i.tution was void of all but the most trivial incident.

Miss Mellish began to thaw slightly towards Benson. This was soon attributed by the astute Allister to its true cause: grat.i.tude to the schoolmaster for having attracted Jeanie. Miss Mellish was, of course, fully persuaded that the latter was a designing minx, who had deliberately set her cap at Mr Mactavish. He was no longer actively aggressive, but had remained implacable in so far as the drumstick question was concerned. Two months after their arrival neither Benson nor Allister had tasted wing, breast or liver of the many birds at whose autopsies they had been present. Benson often joined Jeanie in her walks, for the purpose, as he said, of safeguarding the purity of her accent.

At length the day arrived when Mr Mactavish's place at the dinner-table was vacant. He was reported as being very ill with gout. A messenger was sent with speed to the Residency for Dr Jenkin, the District Surgeon, but that pract.i.tioner was found to be suffering from incipient delirium tremens. Then Allister was called in.

That evening Allister came to Benson's room, where he sat down and gravely lit his pipe.

"Well, how is Mr Mactavish?" asked Benson.

"His physical malady is subsidin' but I fear his mental condition is no that o' a professin' Christian."

"Well, I'm glad the old chap is better. I've always heard that gout affected the temper."

"It does, awfully. Ye'll be glad to hear that the chicken question has been satisfactorily settled."

"What do you mean?"

"I may as well begin at the beginnin' and tell ye all about it. Of course, you know Mactavish did not send for me until he'd found out that Jenkin was so fou' he didn't know colchic.u.m from prussic acid. Well, I went to see the old man. He was sittin' wi' his left fut wrapped up and restin' on a chair, lookin', well, if he'd only had twa horns and a tail Auld Nick wud have just capered wi' envy."

"'I'm concerned to see ye sae oot o' sorts, Mr Mactavish,' said I, seempathetically.

"'Ah, mon,' says he, 'I feel like Dauvid in the fowerty-ninth Psalm when I think o' that swillin' swine of a Jenkin. I didna want to trouble ye, Mr Allister, knowin' how hard ye work, but I juist had to. Hae ye brocht the colchic.u.m wi' ye?'

"'Wark never stands in the way o' my helpin' a sufferin'

fellow-creature,' said I, 'and I can seem-pathise wi' ye fine just now, for I'm in a bad way myself. The wame o' me's just tied into knots wi'

the indigestion.' Here I gied a groan.

"'Hoots, mon,' says he wi' a screech, 'indigestion's nae mair to be compared wi' gout than a midge is wi' a mad dog. Gie me the colchic.u.m.'

"'Mr Mactavish,' said I, 'ye've evidently no idea how I suffer. Not alone is my wame tied into knots, but sufferin' has seriously affected my memory. Will ye believe me when I tell ye that I cannot for the life o' me remember where I put the jar o' colchic.u.m?'

"With that he sat straight up and stared at me for a bit; then he fell back wi' a squeal, for a twinge just made him feel as if his big toe were bein' twisted off.

"'I'm no sure,' said I, after a while, 'but that if I could see some prospect o' my indigestion gettin' better, I might concentrate my mind sufficiently to remember where the colchic.u.m is.'

"'What do ye mean?' he asked.

"'Mr Mactavish,' said I most impressively, 'when Peter saw the sheet descendin' wi' a' the beasts an' birds in it--well, I'd stake every scruple o' colchic.u.m I ever saw that every fowl had twa wings and a liver; but since I've been eatin' at your table not a wing o' the many chickens ye ha' carved has ever fluttered either to me or to Benson, and although ye've helped me to many a gizzard, ye've never given me a liver, even by mistake. It's the lang, weary course o' femoral muscle that is underminin' my const.i.tution. For many, many weeks those drumsticks ye're so generous of, have been beatin' the Deil's tattoo on my sufferin' ribs.'

"He lay for a long time wi' his eyes closed. Then he said, quite humbly--

"'Mr Allister, ye're a hard mon;--but gin ye let bygones be bygones, I'll help ye to the liver wing o' every fowl I carve for the next ten years.'

"'A wing each to Benson and me when there's two chickens on the table, and one liver in three between us. These are the conditions, Mr Mactavish.'

"'It's my duty to submit when spitefully used,' he replied; 'gi'e me the colchic.u.m.'

"Wi' that my memory came back quite suddenly, and I remembered that the colchic.u.m was in my pocket. I gave him a liberal dose."

Two days later Mr Mactavish reappeared at table. The princ.i.p.al item of the banquet was, as usual, a pair of boiled chickens. The boarding-master was better than his word. Benson and Allister each got a liver wing. After a pause of indecision the carver helped Miss Mellish to one and Miss Angus to the other of the remaining wings.

Then, with a sigh, and the mien of a suffering saint, he placed a drumstick upon his own plate.

He ate his dinner with an expression of proud resignation suggestive of Pope Alexander VI was.h.i.+ng the feet of the poor. Benson nearly repeated his former reprehensible conduct; he managed, however, to avoid disgracing himself, but narrowly escaped apoplexy in the process.

Next Sunday, Mr Campbell happening to be absent on clerical duty, Mr Mactavish held service in his place. As an extra lesson he read the 22nd Psalm. When he reached the text "they gaped at me with their mouths as a raving and a roaring lion," he looked straight at Benson and Allister, who were sitting together.

It only remains to be recorded that Mr Mactavish adhered with strictness to the terms of the compact into which he was forced by the guileful Allister.

CHAPTER TEN.

AFAR IN THE DESERT.

This is the story of a boy and a girl who met in a South African wilderness under strange circ.u.mstances more than thirty years ago. The girl was desert-bred; her feet had never trodden those paths of convention which, in the aggregate, are called civilisation. A chance medley of unusual happenings drove the boy forth from the haunts of men, but the absorbing spell of the wild fell upon him, and to him the "call of the wild" was ever afterwards an imperative command.

It is a love-story; but Love revealed the s.h.i.+ning wonder of his face to these two for less than one fleeting day, the while Death hid close behind him.