The Keepers of the King's Peace

The scent brought the most unexpected beasts from every hole and crevice in the hut—brown rats, squirrels, a long black snake with spade-shaped head and diamond markings, little bush hares, a young buck, which came crashing through the forest and prinked timidly to the door of the hut.

The old man on the bed called them all by name, and snapped his feeble fingers to them; but their eyes were on the retort and the crystal drops that trembled and fell from the lip of the narrow spout.

A week later a speechless group stood before the Residency and focussed their astonished gaze upon the miracle.

"The miracle" was a half-grown leopard cub, vividly marked. He was muzzled and held in leash by a chain affixed to a stout collar, and Bones, a picture of smug gratification, held the end of the chain.

"But how—how did you catch him?" gasped the girl.

Bones shrugged his shoulders.

"It is not for me, dear old friend, to tell of nights spent in the howlin' forest," he quavered, in the squeaky tone which invariably came to him when he was excited. "I'm not goin' to speak of myself. If you expect me to tell you how I trailed the jolly old leopard to his grisly lair an' fought with him single-handed, you'll be disappointed."

"But did you track him to his lair?" demanded Hamilton, recovering his speech.

"I beg of you, dear old officer, to discuss other matters," evaded Bones tactfully. "Here are the goods delivered, as per mine of the twenty-fourth instant."

He put his hand to his pocket mechanically, and the cub looked up with a quick eager stare.

"Bones, you're a wonderful fellow," said Sanders quietly.

Bones bowed.

"And now," he said, "if you'll excuse me, I'll take my little friend to his new home."

Before they realized what he was doing, he had slipped off the chain. Even Sanders stepped back and dropped his hand to the automatic pistol he carried in his hip pocket.

But Bones, unconcerned, whistled and marched off to his hut, and the great cat followed humbly at his heels.

That same night Bones strode across from his hut to the Residency, resolved upon a greater adventure yet. He would go out under the admiring eyes of Patricia Hamilton, and would return from the Residency woods a veritable Pied Piper, followed by a trail of forest denizens.

In his pocket was a quart bottle, and his clothes reeked with the scent of wild aniseed. As a matter of fact, his secret would have been out the moment he entered Sanders's dining-room, but it so happened that his programme was doomed to interruption.

He was half-way across the square when a dark figure rose from the ground and a harsh voice grunted "Kill!"

He saw the flash of the spear in the starlight and leapt aside. A hand clutched at his jacket, but he wrenched himself free, leaving the garment in his assailant's hands.

He was unarmed, and there was nothing left but flight.

Sanders heard his yell, and sprang out to the darkness of the verandah as Bones flew up the steps.

He saw the two men racing in pursuit, and fired twice. One man fell, the other swerved and was lost in the shadows.

An answering shot came from the Houssa sentry at the far end of the square. Sanders saw a man running, and fired again, and again missed.

Then out of the darkness blundered Ali Abid, his face grey with fear.

"Sir," he gasped, "wild animal (Felis pardus) has divested muzzlement and proper restraint, and is chasing various subjects outrageously."

Even as he spoke a fourth figure sped across the ground before the Residency, so close that they could see the bundle he carried under his arm.

"My jacket!" roared Bones. "Hi, stop him! Good Lord!"

Swift on the heels of the flying man came a streak of yellow fur....

Whether O'ka of the Jumburu outpaced the leopard, or the leopard overtook O'ka, is not known, but until the rains came and washed away the scent of crude aniseed, Bones dared not leave his hut by night for fear of the strange beasts that came snuffling at his hut, or sat in expectant and watchful circles about his dwelling, howling dismally.

CHAPTER IX

THE MERCENARIES

There was a large brown desk in Sanders's study, a desk the edges of which had been worn yellow with constant rubbing. It was a very tidy desk, with two rows of books neatly grouped on the left and on the right, and held in place by brass rails. There were three tiers of wire baskets, a great white blotting-pad, a silver inkstand and four clean-looking pens.

Lately, there had appeared a glass vase filled with flowers which were daily renewed. Except on certain solemn occasions, none intruded into this holy of holies. It is true that a change had been brought about by the arrival of Patricia Hamilton, for she had been accorded permission to use the study as she wished, and she it was who had introduced the floral decorations.

Yet, such was the tradition of sanctuary which enveloped the study, that neither Captain Hamilton, her brother, nor Bones, her slave, had ever ventured to intrude thither in search of her, and if by chance they came to the door to speak to her, they unaccountably lowered their voices.

On a certain summer morning, Hamilton sat at the desk, a stern and sober figure, and Bones, perspiring and rattled, sat on the edge of a chair facing him.

The occasion was a solemn one, for Bones was undergoing his examination in subjects "X" and "Y" for promotion to the rank of Captain. The particular subject under discussion was "Map Reading and Field Sketching," and the inquisition was an oral one.

"Lieutenant Tibbetts," said Hamilton gravely, "you will please define a Base Line."

Bones pushed back the hair straggling over his forehead, and blinked rapidly in an effort of memory.

"A base line, dear old officer?" he repeated. "A base line, dear old Ham–"

"Restrain your endearing terms," said Hamilton, "you won't get any extra marks for 'em."

"A base line?" mused Bones; then, "Whoop! I've got it! God bless your jolly old soul! I thought I'd foozled it. A base line," he said loudly, "is the difference of level between two adjacent contours. How's that, umpire?"

"Wrong," said Hamilton; "you're describing a Vertical Interval."

Bones glared at him.

"Are you sure, dear old chap?" he demanded truculently. "Have a look at the book, jolly old friend, your poor old eyes ain't what they used to be–"

"Lieutenant Tibbetts," said Hamilton in ponderous reproof, "you are behaving very strangely."

"Look here, dear old Ham," wheedled Bones "can't you pretend you asked me what a Vertical Interval was?"

Hamilton reached round to find something to throw, but this was Sanders's study.

"You have a criminal mind, Bones," he said helplessly. "Now get on with it. What are 'Hachures'?"

"Hachures?" said Bones, shutting his eye. "Hachures? Now I know what Hachures are. A lot of people would think they were chickens, but I know … they're a sort of line … when you're drawing a hill … wiggly-waggly lines … you know the funny things … a sort of...." Bones made mysterious and erratic gestures in the air, "shading … water, dear old friend."

"Are you feeling faint?" asked Hamilton, jumping up in alarm.