Newspaper Page Text
S! S#
f
l i Mi MX m
i in m «■ qm m
7
}.l> <
smm>
COPYRIGHTiW! A NkELLOGC ATV5PAPERCH.
I CHAPTER XIII.
TJP THE QUAObA RIVER.
It requires a pen far more graphic
han I can wield to give even a faint de
►erlption of the utter desolation of the
(country through which the Quagla river
►wound its tortuous course; now through
Regions of impassable jungles, where
hvild beasts and reptiles found lurking
•places, and where the dark waters
trolled on with scarce a current; and,
janon, which barren the rocks river and flowed sandy like wastes tor
lpast £ent. the a early
Towards night and in
irnomlng dense miasmatic fogs arose,
stifling unhappy human beings with
jfoul exhalations, and almost more un¬
endurable than the terrible heat of day.
■The river too swarmed with huge sauri
ans—scaly monsters twenty feet long—
,not the timid alligators of Florida, bnt
fierce creatures which were man’s dead¬
liest enemy, more to be dreaded even
'than the gigantic boa serpents which
they frequently saw hanging from the
limbs of the trees on the bank, whose
embrace would crush one’s body to a
shapeless mass.
Five days had passed since the wan¬
derers left the Cingalese village. They
!had toiled on regardless of heat, thirst
or hunger—thirst I say, for the muddy
water was so impregnated with the de¬
cayed vegetable matter of ages that its
.taste was revolting.
Night was fast approaching. In that
■tropical region the curtain of darkness
.falls with a rush, folding in impenetra¬
ble gloom the landscape that scarce a
few minutes before was bathed iu the
golden rays of the setting sun. By and
by the stars will come out one by one
with twinkling brightness, and present
ly the moon with a majesty unknown
in temperate zones will flood the heav¬
ens with its silvery sheen; but mean¬
while the fog hangs over the river and
even the dazzling torches at the head
of the sampan fail to make an object a
dozen paces distant visible.
“Can you take your spell at the pad¬
dle, Mr. Dunbar; or has the miasma of
this accursed stream poisoned your
blood?” Campignon asked, baring his
own arm for the nightly toil.
“I am in rather a dead-alive condi¬
tion,” Arthur Dunbar replied, “but
good for my share of the work yet.
Wliat a few more days of this bodily
torture may do for me I cannot tell, but
as long as 1 can wield a paddle I shall
not shrink from the burden.”
Just then a human cry startled the
speaker—a scream of mortal agony,
sounding very weird-like in the black¬
ness of the night. This was followed
by a loud splash, and then a hoarse
^roloe rang out in a tone of command.
“For your life, sir, be silent!” Cam¬
pignon cried, as he dashed to the bow
of the boat, and seizing the torches
plunged them into tho hissing water,
••There is a war-canoe coming down
the river, I hear the strokes of their
paddles, and our outy safety lies in
finding a hiding place.”
Muttering a few words to the Malays,
lie bade them turn the nose of the boat
ashore, which they did with marvelous
instinct, considering liow impenetrable
was the darkness with which they were
surrounded. Only just in time did they
succeed in reaching the friendly baslii
reeds, behind whose waving plumes
they were safe from observation; for
with a rush a huge canoe, manned by a
score of nearly naked savages and lit
by a dozen flaming torches, flashed
down the stream. At the stern sat a
man who constantly urged the toilers to
greater speed, occasionally striking
them with the reverse end of a long,
ugly spear he bore in his right hand.
Like phantoms of a hideous dream they
passed into the darkness and were
gone. swamp-dwellers,
“Those fellows are
and If 1 am not mistaken they are in
pursuit of us,” the Frenchman said, with
a grim smile. “Luckily for us they
apeed along so incautiously, or we
should have been food for the alligat¬
ors ere this.”
“And what shall we do now?” Dun
bar asked, wearily. and
“Make the most of our escape
■train every nerve to catch the white
rascal ahead of ns before they return,”
was the prompt response.
The natives refused their spell of rest,
anxious to put a greater distance be¬
tween themselves and their dreaded en¬
emies, whose bloodthirsty ways they
were familiar with, so the sampan sped
.awiftly on in response to their vigorous
efforts.
“What was the cry wc heard when
the war-boat was reaching us?” Dunbar
naked, still thrilled with the agonized
iScream which seemed even yet to float
i|n the air.
, “Most probably the death-yell of a
(murdered slave,” Campignon replied,
(“For, when on a forced journey thesa
gentry •from see a poor wretch shrinking
his work, exhausted with the ter
jrtble toil, they just give him a slash
•with a crease and pitch him overboard
(to feed the crocodiles. Ah, I thought
(so—do you not see in the glimmering
Jllghtthat little dark mass floating down
.the stream? Nay, it is no use going out
•of oar way to the rescue, for if life is
►not extinct, the monsters of the deep
twill have seized their prey before we
would reach it.”
Even as he spoke, a huge snout was
raised four feet above the water, and
with a snap the jaws of a scaly saurian
nosed on the dainty morsel.
Already the moon was rttuie over a
steep broader of
themselves in a expanse
water, which, as the light became more
vivid, took the semblance of a wide
lagoon, whose placid waters presently
lay like a silver mirror under the rays
of the full moon. In the midst of this
iininiature lake stood an island with
deep precipitous sides and crowned
with palm trees, a lovely bit of land¬
scape, the more beautiful after
gloomy passage of Che tortuous, shaotm
nver.
Already tho Malays were leaning over
the side of the sampan laving their
faces in the crystal fluid and drinking
the sweet water from their gourds,
if rtrz
s
' 1 ■\A v|‘M
A
I’ 1 i
S? rfTi-A ..
HELP CAME TOO LATE.'
when the Frenchman checked them in
the unutterable bliss of tho deep
draughts.
-‘The waters of the lake are sweet to
the taste and clear to the eye,” he said,
“but tainted with the poison of the
stream above. Let us make the island,
where we shall find some spring from
which we can fill our vessels and be
sure that we are not pouring liquid
death down our throats.”
“1 see a spot where we can land,”
Dunbar cried, shading his eyes with his
hand and pointing to an inlet guarded
by two abrupt rocks which stood as
sentinels to a narrow natural harbor.
Without a reply the toiling natives
bent themselves to the task of reaching
the tiny haven, and. when their efforts
had been crowned with success, they
found themselves at the entrance of a
small canyon, scarce three yards wide,
whose sides were walls ef massive
rock nearly fifty feet in height. Cam¬
pignon whispered a caution as they
forsed the boat up the stream. Not even
a night bird was disturbed by their
noiseless approach. The channel up
which they were proceeding was a
strange freak of nature, winding in its
course, like the coils of a huge serpent
winding on and on with unchanging
sameness, as rt seemed to the anxious
voyagers, for miles.
“Let us turn back!” Dunbar cried.
“We are wearing ourselves out for
nothing.” and
Even as he spoke the tallest
strongest of the Malays dropped his
paddle and fell prone ou the bottom of
the sampan, his face convulsed with
mortal agony.
“As I expected,” Campignon hoarse¬
ly whispered; “he is water poisoned.
Quick, Dunbar, with your brandy flask,
or he will die.”
They forced open his set teeth and
poured the burning fluid down his
throat, but help came too late, and the
bronzed features twitched with mute
agony, the brawny frame quivered, and
all was over. There was an appeal in
his glazing eyes which haunted Arthur
Dunbar for many a long day and night;
bnt his two companions seemed but lit¬
tle discomposed by his untimely fate,
muttering a few words which the French¬
man translated as a declaration that all
men must die sometime, and they had
faith that the American prince would
compensate his widow when they
reached Colombo and would remember
to reward them for the additional toils
they must now endure. Nay, they even
were preparing to throw tho body of
their deceased comrade into the stream,
but were prevented by Dunbar, who
swore that it should have decent burial.
All thought of returning until they had
explored the mysterious channel was
abandoned, and once more tbe canoe
with its ghastly burden was sent speed
ing onward.
Suddenly the long line of precipitous
rocks broke into a low sanded shore,
with gentle slopes on either side of the
stream, giving a glimpse of a wild
country rich in towering trees and un
dulating rolls, like the broad expanse
of an American prairie covered with a
virgin forest, while beyond, the stream
again entered a chasm tn another range
of hills. The abrupt transformation of
the face of the country aroused the
wonder of the Europeans, and their
amazement grew when they saw
beached on the sloping shore a light
sampan, in which still rested many ob
jects of English production, such as
articles of clothing, shawls, wraps and
canned meats, doubtless the very boat
they had been in pursuit of. Chained
to one of the rough seats of the sampan
was a dog—a brown retriever—who
fawned upon them with every manifes
tation of joyous welcome,
“He is in tolerably good condition,
and cannot have been here long,” Dun¬
bar said, as he un l o osed the animal.
which whined his gratitude with piteous
earnestness.
The words had hardly left the young
American’s lips, when a spear whistled
by his head, and fixed itself in the
trunk of a palm tree by his side. The
quick report of the Frenchman’s rifle
woke the echoes a few moments after
wards, and a tall figure leapt into the
air from a neighboring bush and fell to
the earth, while another sprang in hot
fury from a group of ferns and charged
upon them with long, glittering crease,
a weapon more dangerous than a sword
in the hand of a fierce Malay, who has
no fear of death and fights with the
blind impetuosity of a wild beast.
With a cry of frenzied rage, he sprang
upon Campignon, dashing him to the
earth with the fury of his charge, but
ere the gleaming blade could fa l upon
the hapless man, Arthur D. nbar’s
strong arms were flung around the
would-be assassin, Sleepless nights
and scorching days had not robbed the
• young American of his marvelous
strength, and, in less time than it takes
to write the words, the Malay was
lying gasping in the sand at the mercy
of one who in his just rage seemed half
inclined to strangle him; but Campig
non’s advice prevailed, and he was
simply bound with ropes, which were
tied in such a manner as to insure the
security rather than the comfort of the
prisoner.
“When he recovers from his blind
passion, we shall get some valuable
information from him; for these fellows
in their calmer moments readily yield
. 7 -
4»
j -Ls <*r '^,1 i . , .r mfr Vs
m tc
w w. l m "S \
ft
y
c
< Kl
'J \t ^«r|Y s
f\
SPRANG UPON CAMPIGNON,
to the inevitable,” the Frenchman said,
eyeing his late antagonist with a grim
smile.
“There may Re more of these scoun¬
drels lurking in the neighborhood,”
Dunbar conjectured, as he looked to the
charge of his repeating rifle.
“No, no,” Campignon declared, confi¬
dently. “It only remains for us to dis¬
cover the whereabouts of the white
man, and we have accounted for
all the crew of the sampan. If there
were more of them in the vicinity
we should have had them on us ere this,
for the report of a gun is an unusual
sound in these wilds. However, to
make assurance doubly sure, let us pa¬
trol the woods and see wliat we car.
find.”
This they did, making the important
discovery that it was not an island they
were on at all, but a small peninsula
projecting from the mainland by a nar¬
row neck of land, along which led a
track, which could hardly be called a
path, yet where the prickly brushwood
had been sufficiently cleared to permit
the cautious advance of a single person.
Up this they penetrated as far as tfiey
thought it advisable to go, leaving one
of the natives on guard at the landing
place.
“It all lies in a nut-shell,” Campig¬
non said, decisively. “The white man
has taken to the woods here, and wc
must follow him; but not till the men
arc rested, for they have toiled for
nearly twenty hours.”
“And you advise?” Dunbar asked.
“That we camp for a few hours and
then get on to the man’s trail.”
They found on their return to the
boat captive and guard seated silent!;
side by side; the one sullen and glum,
as though brooding over his defeat; the
other exultant in his newly-invested au¬
thority, for the native Cingalese dearly
loves to lord it over his fellows.
“lias he spoken?” Campignon asked.
“Yes,” was the proud reply. “He
offered me the gold bangles he wears if
1 would aid him to escape.”
“Which you refused?”
The Malay’s eyes gleamed in tri
umphant consciousness of fidelity, as he
nodded a scornful assent.
“Tell him,” Dunbar said, when the
man’s action was translated to him.
“that when we reach Colombo I will
give him five times the value of the
golden bangles; but, how comes it, Cam¬
pignon, that the prisoner is wearing
such expensive ornaments?”
“Because,” replied the Frenchman,
looking earnestly at the prostrate fig¬
ure before him, “he is a chief, or the
son of a chief. I wish I knew for cer¬
tain just what he is.”
“Why?”
“For the reason that if he is really
what I think he is I would make an ap¬
peal to his native sense of chivahy. You
smile, but, sir, let me tell you thai
these pirate chieftains have a code o
honor as sensitive as it is remarkable
One act of generosity from an enemy
will accomplish more than a thousand
blows.”
“As, for instance?”
“If I were to unloose that man's
bonds and let him go free, he would die
sooner than harm me.”
“Well, as we must either kill Mm or
set him loose when we march, the ex¬
periment is perhaps worth a trial.”
“Have I your consent to act as I think
best?” Campignon demanded.
“Why, certainly, my friend. You
know more about the ways of this
strange people than the I do; besides, as I
said before, it is least obnoxious of
the only two alternatives we have.”
Campignon’* reply was to move qniet
lo t-.h« fit frv«»
who was Tying prone on the sand, the
bleeding cuts in his wrists and ankles
showing how he had strained the ropes
in his efforts for freedom. One cheek
displayed a ragged gash, w here in his
fall he had struck it against a sharp
stone, and which was bleeding freely,
The Frenchman spoke softly to the man
for a few moments, but Dunbar noticed
that his words only served to make the
savage eyes of the prisoner gleam more
fiercely. Even when Campignon got a
sponge and water and bathed the
wound, the Malay’s intense glance of
hatred was in no wise softened. Pres¬
ently the Frenchman pointed to the
golden bangles and asked if, as he
surmised, he was a chief among his
eople. The question was the first which
had apparently arrested his attention.
“My father's spears are countless as
the reeds on the river shore,” was the
muttered response he made as he
turned his face away from his ques¬
tioner.
For a moment Campignon could not
quite realize the import of the man’s
words, for his knowledge of Cingalese
was only limited and the captive spoke
in a dialect that was almost incompre¬
hensible, but when the words had been
analyzed by the quick-witted French¬
man, he proceeded to put in action his
meditated experiment.
Stepping back to where Dunbar v
standing he considerably startled
young -American by an extravag . *
pantomimic expression of servility,
bowing to the very ground before him
a d approaching him with every sign of
humility.
“Do not look so astonished,” he said,
in a low tone. “1 want the prisoner to
realize that you are the chief personage
among us, and that he owes his freedom
to your commands.”
So, with much gravity, Dunbar gave
his orders for the native’s release.
When Campignon cut the man’s bonds,
and with the grace of a Frenchman
hr. ruled him the murderous crease, which
two hours before had been within an
ace of costing him his life, emotions of
surprise, joy and gratitude played on
the Malay’s features; but the silent ex¬
pression of feeling was only momenta¬
ry, for quickly the accustomed look of
dignified indifference repossessed his
features, and with a deep inclination of
his head to the two white men, he
turned bis back upon them and walked
slowly up the path which led into the
woods.
“Cool as a encumber!” was Dunbar's
commentary-, “Well, Campignon, as
the little boys say, we’ve been and
gone and done it now, and nothing re¬
mains to us but to abide by the conse¬
quences of what seems to me a very
risky experiment.”
J' H
•f
m V
as a#
I I m stir 1
I n mm m
m
Si 3 £ m
r '
8
.... I! i
m I w-jf nil m 1 a Se -V.
NSW SHOPS OP DAVIS 8EWIN& MACHINE CO.
F n
£ ■
yan v yiMf
Capacity 400 Machinss per Day
FOR TERMS, ETC., ADDRESS
DAVIS SEWING MACHINE CO;
r*
BAY702T, O. CHICAGO, XZZ*
We have machines in stock wh er
they can be seen, or we can send them
to your homes.
Respectfully, P CAIN.
G. W. & A.
Conyers, Ga.
mm
SbouM your Htt’«one \<e taken TC-fs'.L'i T Unmoni *
■rmip, wh-;. would vou Uo? Want i save
urn. m m
idl i ’siaW? .harrolers powUor, is U;e I’ysafa^uara. In
<5» T rS ana -. druggist
years it s never laiitol. Or* .'or N:» : V fr<r;i \>>ur
*5 Iron* us. Price, C't-e. A sanu;]-* rxavticr Lv nail for ice.
rm a?., eu”"' c:. Ma.« sa. K.r
Dyspepsia
Makes the lives ot many people miserable,
and often leads to self-destruction. We know
of no remedy for dyspepsia more successful
than Hood’s Sarsaparilla. It acts gently, yet
surely and efficiently, tones the stomach and
other organs, removes the faint feeling,
creates a good appetite, cures headache, and
refreshes the burdened mind. Give Hood's
Sarsaparilla a fair trial, It will do you good.
GEOBGIA CAN MAKEoHEESE]
TLe t irect( is cf the (xjrei'nieiil a
farm held their second quar erly
meeiing at the farm offee this evem'rtg
Oidy rou'ine vveik teas gone through
with' with the exception of a-'minister
icg the oath of office to Captain War
ten, of Augusta, and Mr. Mil ig 8n
Oa Jesup, the two new members of
the board.
Dr. If. C. Whale was seen by
he reporter anti asked if anything of
nterest was noted by iheir visit, to
which he replied that everything wos
in tiptop shape- The only thing
new was the experiment in cheese’
which was very satisfactory The test
shows that Georgia takes one-third
less mi k to make a pound of cheese
than does Ohio. Oar farm realizes a
pound to seven and one half pounds
of milk, while Ohio milk requires
eleven pounds of milk to get one of
cheese. The quality of the cheese is
the best’ too, showing that OU-'
resources white developed excel all
competition
From present prospects the expert
ment in tobacco will prove very suc
cessfull. At any ra ; e a barn will he¬
at once erected for a packing house
for the present growing crop with a
caprcity to hold double the acreage
they are cultivating this year.
Fruits for Chi <lrfn
The subject oi fruits is one which de¬
serves more than a pacing notice.
Some parents would withhold them al
together from their children until after
the second year. This is a very good
general rule, but it will admit of ex¬
ceptions. It is an undeniable fact that
some of them are most wholesome
foods, and the earlier children, can be
accustomed to them the better. Very
many even before they are two years
old can safely take, and are much ben¬
efited by, the juices of sweet, mellow
fruit. Children also frequently suffer
from habitual constipation, and these
inices act far better than medicinal
remedies.
Notwithstanding all this, the giving
of fruits to children before they are
two years old should be very guarded,
and limited to the juices of those which
are positively fresh, known also to bf
easily dispos'd of *o tiro system and
not likely to cause diarrhea. As a
child approaches its third year, its al¬
lowance of fresh fruits may be more
generous, due care being invariably
nseu in their selection; still, modern
►ion should be the rule, for inteaiper
ate indulgence in even the most digest
able fruits is quite sure to be followed
by unpleasant, if not serious conse
quences.
Those fruits which are very acid, and
require much sugar to make them pal¬
atable, should be withheld. Oranges,
apples and peaches, if perfectly ripe
and sound, may bo occasionally allow¬
ed, unless, of course, there is an irrita¬
bility of the stomach and bowels. Pears
are le5§ digestible than these, but if
thoroughly ripe can do no harm if not
toe freely indulged in.—Hoston Uerald.
Tho s mallest Pill in the W orld!
Why do you suffer
from Dyspepsia and Qick-Headache, tlio“
rendering life miserable, when
remedy is at your hand ? 9
TUTT’S
•Tiny Liver Pills*
will speedily remove all this trouble, 403 *
enable you to cat and digest year food, -iiy
prevent headacbo anil impart have an
45 . enjoyment of life to which you A
IS? been a stranger. 39 Dose Park small. Place, Price, N. Y. Wr
25 cents. Ottice,
IM
How Lost! How Regained!
moF jfrHzMifflZi mm A
MOW SERF-PRESERVATION. TDYSHLF. A new —- antfonlj
Or ESSAY on NERVOUS and
Gold Medal PPvIZE DEBILITYi liLUOlis or
YOCXn^EXHAUSXED pmSTPAL VITALITY,.PRE¬
MATURE DECLINE, and all DISEASES
and WEAKNESSES of MAN. 3 Wpages, Clotli,
pTt* fy’mail, ^25 invaluable sealed. prescriptions. tJmy Prospect¬
double Descriptive SEND
us with endorsements pDCC I
now
S 1 ?. SEki&SS, & ?bSS-b!1
B Th°p“abody Medical Institute has many imi
bPsi'RONG.— treasure rpore KVOUS man (Copyrighted. ! and learn to
JUdical Rttiew.
Dl AF
Children Cry for PncfieGs Castona.
Tow- >h :
MP i'cxes. and JnO. Bonn. weii. '
See cat- Other* <m- deingas f *00. W a
sot tob? Son-.e eam over nd live
mini. Von can do tie " ' be
- ,
at home, wherever von are. r.
gir-rer* easUy earning tr°n to
Y are
*SO a day. Ail time
a5Krii..^;«si«stsasKi- op w: L B i or err an “or* Failure the rime. *ka«» Big money - nmong rZ- t vrork- thetR. t fr »
no rjFp ’Otf
i]
0E0K s\FS CITATION Kl
of Mb. Ann t ■?“«■
heard ySSrsi on the first M ||
0
fo-t. 0.
LEITERB
applied Whereas to J. the C.Bart^u court
rs a lm nistetio of Oni o"
M Mr. w N. A l A Carr, 'ate »
sensed, and £ MU ^ of J y
cation on the first Monj
fo-t. °-j
MCE m DOTES 1
the All estate persons of S, having dJ
Rockdale H. clesiasej Audi
notified to county, render tfejj
the undersigned in
J interested accordid
a persons to «
requu-edtomalveimmediat litis May 4th., 1892,
Jobs H.
Adtnr.
b.
CITATION FOR I
GEORGIA, Rockdale Granajl cj
Whereas J. S.
tor of the Estate of H. J. 1
resents to the court in Ms I
fully filed and Administered entered on recoil (j
H. , 1 .
tate, this is therefore to ciM
kindred and creditors, to si
any should they can, why said!
not be discharged ia
ministration mission and receive Honda] hi
on the first Seaman]
3- m. 0.
MM Win
send moral
Will be let to the lowed!
m., 6th. tlieHuildingof clay/if June, 18S2, therocH at ]
MeKt#,Tit bridge place obi
by setned proposals, and nil
received and considered res] |
handed in sealed up. I
to reject any bid or all of J
choose that who to do so. takes And the it i]
ever con
required to give a bond via
ity in the sum of fifteen bill
(f1.500) for the fall and paa doj
rnance of the work to be
building said pillars, Ta
1892. 0.3
fo-t.
BUY AT H>
]f you want a Cool
-t kind of Tinware,
GOTO
They buy direct fj
ctory and by buy!
them you save the]
Man’s profit. They ma
Tinware ani guaranty
patronizing them y00j
ii 11® !
ii
You can get of them J
of repa’rs f r, r stoves, i
stock will order tha
for you from fac - ory<
They keep aisO
I I
& aexa ilil m
Piping, and wiM^
prices as Atlanta.
We do our to o'™ se ^
enables us
those who pay
Come and see j
ask. Kespectfulhi
JOHNSON^ i
i
Tor StrsaKs,
ftjg cataioin** “ I
ESSSasa
Children Cry fr ™** 9