A Galahad of the Creeks; The Widow Lamport. S. Levett Yeats

what is the civilization of the East to that of the West! Jackson was bringing all the active, vigorous West with him to this sleepy hollow in the creeks, and his coming would be as a breath of strong air to an invalid. He mapped out his programme. He would be to the benighted creatures--for of course they were benighted--over whom he was placed what his father had been and was to him, and so on for many pages of what a high-souled boy always dreams when he enters upon the battle of the East. With few exceptions, he comes out of the struggle dispirited and broken, feeling that the strong years of his life have been wasted in trying to affix the impression of a seal upon water. He folded his letter, and, ringing the little bell which stood near him, gave it to the servant who came to carry to the post. He then rose and, leaning over the railings of the veranda, looked out before him. It was almost sunset, and a veil of shimmering gold was over the land. The yellow light fell softly on the sleepy forest and trembled over the dreaming river. Out on the west stretched a long, thin line of purple clouds, and his heart went forth there, for beyond was home--home, which he should see again when his task was done--when he had struck the dead Budh once more into life--when the East had heard the message he bore it from the West.

CHAPTER II.

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A DINNER À DEUX.

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      Ho! A flowing bowl and a merry lass,

      And a fig for monk or friar!

      And the clean white light

      Of a sword in fight,

      And gold to my heart's desire.

      The Buccaneer.

      Eight o'clock! There was just time to dress and reach Hawkshawe's house, unless Jackson wanted to be late for dinner. He was unromantic enough to have an extremely good appetite, and a man must dine even if he is going to make the old East new. He got through his dressing as quickly as possible, and found his pony waiting for him under the portico that protected the front door of the house. Ah-Geelong followed close at his heels with an enormous hand lantern, which threw a blaze of light many yards around them. Peregrine protested.

      "There is a bright moon, Ah-Geelong; you surely do not want a lamp! You might as well bring an umbrella!"

      "Plentee snakee, master," and the Chinaman pointed generally all around him with a long knotted bamboo staff. The argument was unanswerable. Out of deference, therefore, to the cobra the lantern was permitted to assist the moonlight, and the procession moved off. Peregrine determined that, snake or no snake, he would come back without the lantern, and as he rode took little mental bearings, in order to guide himself home again. On arrival, he sent back the pony with his groom, and Ah-Geelong disappeared into the servants' quarters with his cosmos burner. Hawkshawe came forward with cordial greeting, and it might have been fancy, but as they entered the drawing-room Peregrine thought he saw the curtain that guarded the entrance to a side door falling swiftly, and the flicker of a silken tamein as it vanished from sight.

      "Take that long chair," said Hawkshawe, "and have a sherry and bitters; it will give you a fillip up!"

      Jackson did not want the fillip up, but he took the sherry and bitters. He did not do so, however, in his host's scientific way. Hawkshawe first sprinkled the bitters in, and holding the glass before him bent it on one side, slowly turning it until there was a streak of burnt sienna winding round the inside; then he poured in the sherry and drank sip by sip with deep satisfaction. "It's the only way to get the true flavour of the bitters," he remarked. This was, of course, utter nonsense; but Hawkshawe fully believed it, and said the words so positively that his listener bowed to his superior knowledge and also believed. When Hawkshawe had absorbed some of the flavour of the bitters, he asked, "How have you been amusing yourself since I left you--office files?"

      "No, a lot came in, but I have reserved them for later on. I've been writing letters. The mail goes out to-morrow, and I took the opportunity to write home."

      "Of course you did. I never write home now. The fact is I haven't seen Old England for many a long year now, and one loses touch. Besides, I never was a good hand at writing letters, and I don't suppose anything I have to say would be particularly interesting."

      "I should have thought it was quite the other way, Hawkshawe."

      As Jackson spoke dinner was announced, and they moved to the dining-room. It was dinner à deux, and for a few moments the conversation was general, Hawkshawe asking about friends at the capital, most of whom Jackson had met, notwithstanding his short stay there; but in this respect the East is a very small place. Finally Hawkshawe got on to the subject of his work, and gave a most interesting account of the robber gangs, or dacoits, that infested the district, concluding by expressing his firm belief that the chief malefactor was a well-known priest, who to all appearance had abandoned the world, but who, Hawkshawe was convinced, although he had apparently nothing to support his statement, acted as a fence, and was at the bottom of all the mischief.

      "And you really think," inquired Jackson, "that this man is a sort of head centre? It seems improbable, if what I have read and heard of the Buddhist priesthood is true; but I suppose there are exceptions."

      Hawkshawe slowly raised his glass to the light and watched the little beads in the Ayala. "Nothing is improbable in this country, as you will find after a few years' experience," he answered, half in mockery and half in earnest. "For instance, I believe it is really true that the bad characters of the adjoining district of Myobin were all driven here by the mosquitoes. They grow a special kind in Myobin--big gray ones about half an inch long, and striped like a tiger. They were more effective than the police; the dacoit couldn't stand them and came here, worse luck!"

      "The obvious course, then, would be to import some of your tiger-striped friends," laughed Jackson.

      Hawkshawe sighed. "We have done that, but it was of no use; there is something in the air here which does not agree with that particular brand of insect life. But, joking apart, the dacoits are a very serious evil here, and I have made little or no headway against them. Now and then I score a success, but I put down all my failures to the priest Bah Hmoay--old Father Fragrance."

      "I suppose there is no way of clearing the fragrant old gentleman out?"

      "None; but if one could be devised, you would end all our troubles and earn Smalley's undying gratitude as well. But Bah Hmoay is a power in the land in more ways than one, as you will find before many weeks, or rather days, have passed."

      "Why Smalley's gratitude in particular?"

      "Because two of a trade never agree, I fancy. I don't mean by this that Smalley is a dacoit in disguise, but that they are both bigoted representatives of religion, and each believes the other to be the fiend himself. By the way, the mention of Smalley reminds me that I have explained your little mistake of this morning to the reverend Habakkuk, and he is quite prepared to smoke the pipe of peace with you; and this is well, as he is the only doctor within a hundred miles, and no one knows what may happen. Of course, he will bother you a good deal; but I should think you would know how to meet him when he opens fire on the mission side."

      "It was very good of you to explain. I think also that I know what Smalley wants, and I must say I don't see why Government should help the mission on purely religious grounds--and he won't take help on any other. As an educationalist, Smalley should of course be helped, and the same argument would apply to the pagoda schools, over which I suppose Bah Hmoay presides. I don't think we should bring in religion into grants in aid, and it doesn't seem as if Christianity suits the Eastern. What do you think?"

      "Don't know; all that's beyond me. I do know, however, that the native Christian is generally a d--d scoundrel. Try these cigars--they are specially made, and you must be patriotic and adopt your