Chatterbox, 1906 Part 14

Early in the morning an elephant appeared at the granary, acting evidently as a scout or spy. When he found that the place was unprotected, he returned to the herd, which was waiting no great distance off. Two men happened to be close by, and they watched the herd approach in almost military order. Getting near the granary, the elephants stopped to examine it.

Its walls were of solid brickwork; the entry was in the centre of the terraced roof, which could only be mounted by a ladder. To climb this was not possible, so they stood to consider. The alarmed spectators speedily climbed a banyan-tree, hiding themselves among its leafy branches, thus being out of view while they could watch the doings of the elephants. These animals surveyed the building all round; its thick walls were formidable, but the strength and sagacity of the elephants defied the obstacles. One of the largest of the herd took up a position at a corner of the granary, and pounded upon the wall with his tusks.

When he began to feel tired, another took turn at the work, then another, till several of the bricks gave way.

An opening once made was soon enlarged. s.p.a.ce being made for an elephant to enter, the herd divided into parties of three or four, since only a few could find room inside. When one party had eaten all they could, their place was taken by another. One of the elephants stood at a distance as sentinel. After all had eaten enough, by a shrill noise he gave the signal to retire, and the herd, flouris.h.i.+ng their trunks, rushed off to the jungle.

STORIES FROM AFRICA.

I.--THE STORY OF A CRUSADER.

(_Concluded from page 30._)

The Sultan demanded the fortresses of Syria as a ransom, but King Louis replied that they were not his to part with, but belonged to the Emperor of Germany, who bore the t.i.tle of King of Jerusalem. The Sultan threatened him with torture, but only received the calm reply, 'I am your prisoner; you may do what you will with me.'

He had the grievous pain of seeing his followers slain for refusing to abjure their faith, and the worse sorrow of knowing that some among them had yielded; and he readily agreed to pay five hundred thousand pounds as the ransom for his people, the city of Damietta being the price of his own freedom. The Sultan exclaimed in amazement, when the answer was returned, 'Right n.o.ble is this Frankish king, who pays such a sum without bargaining. Go, tell him we will lessen it by one-fifth.'

De Joinville was not with his master when he was taken, having been detained by contrary winds in the river; but he had adventures enough of his own.

He had struggled up to the deck of his galley, though grievously sick, to issue his orders, when the boat was boarded by the Saracens. One friendly Turk counselled him to leap on board the enemy's galley and give himself up as a prisoner; and afterwards this Turk saved his life, when the Saracen daggers were at his throat, by pa.s.sing him off as the King's cousin. He even secured for him the scarlet furred cloak which had been his mother's gift, and under which poor Joinville lay, s.h.i.+vering with fever, and, as he freely owned, with dread of what was to come. Every hour the lives of the prisoners hung in the balance. De Joinville saw one old comrade and follower after another slain and thrown into the river before his eyes. When a grand old Saracen, with a body of armed followers, entered the tent in which they were confined, they thought their executioners had come; but the old man, after solemnly asking them whether they believed indeed in a G.o.d Who had risen from the dead, bade them be of good cheer, for such a G.o.d would surely not desert the servants who suffered in His cause. So, with their faith and courage strengthened in so strange a way, the Christian prisoners waited until the good news came of the King's treaty.

Even then the peril was not over. The Sultan who had concluded the peace was murdered by his guard, and, in the confusion which followed, the galley to which the prisoners had been removed was boarded by a wild band, with drawn swords. The French n.o.bles, thinking the end had come, fell upon their knees.

But again their lives were spared, and, soon after, De Joinville found himself reunited to his beloved King, who, with scrupulous care, was collecting and paying to the last farthing the sum promised as ransom.

So end De Joinville's crusading adventures, as far as Africa is concerned, though he followed his royal master to Acre before Louis turned his face sadly homeward. When the King set forth, twenty years later, on his second luckless crusade, De Joinville refused to leave his va.s.sals, who, he said, had suffered sorely during his last campaign. He heard from the lips of others how his master died at Tunis, with his thoughts turning longingly still to that Jerusalem which his mortal eyes would never see. But of this De Joinville tells us little, being unwilling, he says, to vouch for the truth of anything that he did not himself see and hear. And he certainly saw and heard enough to leave us a story of fights and escapes as fascinating as any romance, and the portrait of a king, often mistaken, indeed, but always valiant, high-minded, and pure, whose words and deeds his old followers lovingly recorded for the sake of generations yet to come.

MARY H. DEBENHAM.

THE GIANT OF THE TREASURE CAVES.

(_Continued from page 39._)

The children had all been so intent on the going in or staying out, that they had not noticed how the door was slowly but surely closing on them.

No one had touched it, yet it was moving with great force. Marjorie ran back out of the way with Georgie clinging to her arm. Alan, seizing Estelle's hand, had barely time to stumble over the threshold when a heavy bit of wood was hurled over him, just missing his head, and landing on the threshold he had quitted the moment before. On this the door banged with a great crash. It had fallen just in time to prevent the door shutting. The whole building seemed to shake with the shock of the banging door. Alan turned, to see Thomas, white and staring, behind him. The expression on his face recalled to the boy's mind the conversation in the hollow. For the moment, however, anger prevented any other thoughts.

'It might have killed me!' he exclaimed, angrily. 'What on earth did you do that for?'

'I meant no harm, sir,' returned Thomas, hurriedly. 'The truth is, sir, I--I want to get into that place for a bit. I--I have left something behind. It's most important. The noise may bring Mr. Peet up here, and--and--I must get in afore he comes. What's there was left by--by mistake, sir--only a mistake.'

Thomas spoke in a confused, anxious manner, all the time edging nearer to the door. 'It would have slammed if I hadn't thrown in the bit of wood,' he continued, as he pushed back the door to its widest extent.

Sure as he felt that Thomas was deceiving him, Alan was puzzled how to connect the gardener's anxiety to enter the summer-house with the conversation he had overheard; but that it _had_ some connection he felt certain. What could the man want in that dark, uninviting hole? Had he stolen any valuables and hidden them in there? If so, why did he want information about them when he must know all about where they were to be found? Yet the stranger had told Thomas to obtain information, without which their bargain was useless.

His thoughts were interrupted by the gardeners, who now came running up, headed by Peet. They were amazed to see the four children staring in wonder at the strength displayed by Thomas as he set the ma.s.sive door open.

'What are you doing with that 'ere door?' shouted the angry head gardener. 'Who opened it? It isn't anybody's business to go nigh it at all.'

'The door nearly slammed on the young ladies and gentlemen,' replied Thomas, sullenly, his tone proving to Alan how keen was his disappointment. 'I just threw the wood in time to stop it.'

'Who opened it?' demanded Peet, sternly, his eyes wandering round the group of children and gardeners.

No one answering, Alan said they had found the door open on their return from boating, and had looked in. 'And if we ever get the chance again we will go right in,' he added, sulkily, walking away with his head in the air. His disappointment made him forget himself.

'Stop, Master Alan,' returned Peet, whose naturally cross temper was continually bringing him into collision with the children. 'The Colonel and my lady have forbidden all you young ladies and gentlemen to go into the ruin, and you tell me you will get in if you have the chance?'

'Yes, Peet, I do,' replied Alan, haughtily. 'I am not accountable to you for what I do or don't do. You mind your own affairs, and find out who left the door open, or else you will be held responsible.'

Alan marched off, leaving Peet speechless with rage.

'I will speak to the Colonel,' he muttered to himself as the children disappeared in the direction of the house.

No one knew anything about the door, and, in spite of his anger, Peet was obliged to admit he himself must have left it open, since none of the under-gardeners could have got possession of the key. As far as he knew, they had no interest in going in. The ruin was only used by him for a secret purpose of his own of which he had spoken to no one. On one occasion alone had he ever allowed any of his underlings into it. That was on the day he had made Thomas a.s.sist him in erecting some woodwork in preparation for a gift he had received from his brother in India, which he desired to keep a profound secret from everybody. Inside the ruin was a recess large enough for his purpose; but it required a good deal of adapting to make it available, and this he could not manage without help. Thomas's action in throwing the piece of wood might or might not be regarded as suspicious, but since he had been out boating with the children, he could not have had anything to do with opening the door. He might desire to get in if his curiosity about the woodwork in the recess had been roused, but was that likely in such a stupid lout as Thomas?

There really appeared to be no one on whom he could visit his wrath.

Dismissing the under-gardeners curtly, he was forced to return to his work in a very unenviable frame of mind, suspicious of everybody.

Meantime the children were greatly taken aback by the quarrel between Alan and Peet. The two were always more or less at daggers drawn, but it was seldom that the mutual dislike blazed up into open war.

'I will show Peet a thing or two,' cried Alan with a wilful smile. 'He must learn he can't speak to me like that. He is Aunt Betty's servant, worse luck. If he had been Father's, I'd have been down on him with a vengeance.'

'It is a great pity to quarrel with him,' said Marjorie, though she knew the remark was not a wise one under the circ.u.mstances. 'He is an old man, he's seen heaps of trouble, and he's soured. That is what Aunt Betty says. I think it would be nicer--- more like what one would call _n.o.blesse oblige_--if we let him alone.'

'There's Father!' cried Georgie with a shout. 'We can ask him.'

(_Continued on page 50._)

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'It would have slammed if I hadn't thrown in the bit of wood.'"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Alan intended to make the newts run races."]

THE GIANT OF THE TREASURE CAVES.

(_Continued from page 47._)

Colonel De Bohun, strolling along smoking his cigar, was at once beset by the whole party. He was good-natured and kind-hearted; the children were seldom afraid to take him into their councils. His appearance was always hailed with delight, and confidences and requests of all kinds were poured into his ears. In the holidays especially he was a willing victim, and could be counted on to grant all but the most impossible demands.

'What are you young monkeys plotting now?' he exclaimed as they ran up to him.