Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 219: what you’re looking at

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

210 veriest wild goose chase. They not omly believed that Mr. Murdock was dead, but they had no idea that any trace of him, or knowledge of his fate could be found. And here he was alive and well. Well, yes, physically ; but mentally? That half framed query placed a load of apprehension on Bradshaw’s heart that he could not reason away. Dressed little better than a savage, it was significant that he had forgotten such an apparently trivial thing as a hand shake with a fellow countryman. It was by no means so significant as his grudging consent to return to civ- lization and his daughter, and yet, there might be strong 1f not good rea- sons for that. Bradshaw told himself that there nust be reasons, mistaken ones, prob- ablv, but nevertheless reasons of a sort to account for Mr. Murdock’s long desertion of his home. As he went up the ravine the buoy- ancy of youth helped him partly to dis- pel the depression. The best of it all, he thought, was that Mr. Murdock was alive. Association with civilized men would speedily restore him to his former self. That long absence from home could not be forgotten, but it could be for- given. “ There must be no campfires, Pan,’’’ said Bradshaw, as soon as he arrived at the camp. “ Did he say so?” inquired the black man, quietly. “ Yes. He tells me we are'very near the most hostile and powerful tribe on the continent.” “Then we must put our pickets far down in the ravine.” “No, Pan. Post no guard in that direction.” “Did he sav so?” “Certainly!” and Bradshaw’s tone was a bit sharp, for he was irritated at Pan’s evident distrust. “ That is the man whom [ have been hunting all over Africa.” THE ARGOSY. * | know; that is, I supposed so. I do not like him, Mr. Bradshaw.” “ I see you don’t, but that can’t make any difference. Confound it, Pan! that man is my sweetheart’s father. He knew me when I was a little boy. He came out to warn us, not knowing that there was anybody here whom he knew. Of course his advice is to be trusted.” “ Yes, certainly. Of course it is if you say it is. But I do not like him.” “ Oh, bosh!” and Bradshaw turned away in disgust. He could not have told why he felt so resentful of Pan’s demeanor. There was a strange mix- ture in his own feelings that he shrank from analysing. He wanted to rejoice heartily in the discovery of Mr. Mur- dock, and he could not. That cloud of depressing apprehension hung over him, and Pan’s words made it deeper. Not that he distrusted his sweet- heart’s father; it was more as if he feared that it might have been better for all concerned if Mr. Murdock never had been found; but Bradshaw would not permit himself to entertain that thought, and it was only natural that he should vent his uncomfortable feel- ing upon the faithful Pan. ‘I'm hungry as a dog.” he said pres- ently. “Mr. Murdock is going to bring me some food as a matter of hos- pitality, but I can’t wait for it. Have them get me something, Pan.” “Tt is ready,” said the black; “I have been waiting for you.” “Sol! you mean well, don’t you, old fellow? Here, shake hands, will you?” Pan gravely gave Bradshaw his hand. “ You are very kind to me,” he said. “Nonsense! I’m not half as appre- ciative as I ought to be. Never mind, Pan. You just go on doing what you think is right and let me sputter.” It was a genuine relief to Bradshaw to “ make it up” so quickly with his loyal assistant, and during supper they talked freely of possible plans for the return journey to the co73t) 75 3507522 CO