Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 214: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AN AFRICAN SECRET. The latter seemed to hesitate an in- stant as he saw Bradshaw approaching, but it was only for an instant. He left the rock and met the American half way. “ ‘What country are you?” he asked, and at the sound of his voice Bradshaw started and gazed more earnestly upon the old man’s sunburned features. It was a harsh, hoarse tone, having something of the native African gut- tural 1n it. ‘Tam from America,” Bradshaw an- swered, slowly. This statement evidently made no impression on the other, for he went on directly : “T was sure I saw the smoke of a campfire. I come to warn you. Put out your fires at once, go back the way you came, and let no man see you until you are at least a hundred miles " away.” “JT thank you for your warning,” said Bradshaw, speaking with manifest difficulty while he continued to search the old man’s features; “ and it seems good to hear my home speech from one who learned it where I did. Is it pos- sible that it does not give you pleasure to see and speak with a fellow country- man? ” The old man listened to him impas- sively. “TI did not say I was an American,” said he; “ that I have some interest in men of your race is clear enough, I suppose, from the fact that I have come up here to warn you of your dan- ger.” ‘What is this danger? ” “Not more than two miles below there is the chief town of the most pow- erful and most bloodthirsty tribe of men in all Africa. Nothing will per- suade them to spare the life of any white man who enters their king- dom.” . Bradshaw paused long before re- sponding, and when he spoke he leaned forward, piercing the other’s eyes with his own. 205 “Not even yours, Mr. Murdock?” he said, CHAPTER VY. A TOKEN OF HOSPITALITY. THE old man leaped as did the black dignitary when Pan’s bullet pierced his heart. His bearded lips parted, his eyes dilated, he threw up both hands and clenched them as if he would strike Bradshaw down. Then he wheeled about and set off down the ravine on the dead run. Bradshaw made after him instantly and overtook him easily within a few paces. “Mr. Murdock! ” he cried, “ do not run from me! I have come all this way into Africa to find you. Don’t you know me, Mr. Murdock? Don’t you remember ” “You are mistaken, young man,” gasped the other, struggling violently but vainly in Bradshaw’s grasp; “ My name is not Murdock. Go away while there is a chance that vou may do so in safety.” “ Come with me, Mr. Murdock.” “No, never; my name is not Mur- dock, I'tell you!” “ Don't try to deceive me, Mr. Mur- dock. You betray yourself by the ef- fort. I come as a friend.” “T’ll not believe it. I never saw you.” ‘You knew me in my boyhood.” “Ttisa lie. Unhand me, I say!” Up to this the old man had not ceased to writhe and wrench this way and that to be free. He now gave over and stood, panting and _ trembling, glaring fearfully at his captor. “T beg you to be calm, Mr. Mur- dock,’ said Bradshaw, then: “ it breaks my heart to compel you to listen ” “ T’ll not listen,” panted the old man, hoarsely. “You must. from Irene.” I come with a message A pitiful gasp cheket ir crecild: CO