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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