The Kinsley graphic. [volume] (Kinsley, Kan.) 1890-1940, 1892-07-08

thought, when he awolze the morning |
after Aaron Cores Untimciy end Tor /
how could the corpse have been re- 4
moved without his aTakenlagF ana !
where had the Cingalese giri betaizen /
herself? Yes, he was alonei and the /
object Of his sudden desertion filed him |
with surprise. That his young nurse /
had left him for good was sclf-apParcnt, |
for she had tied the dog by piece OF /
cord to the root Of a tree at the entrance I
of the rude apartment
He was half glad to be alone Yet re-
gFetfuI that the opportunity had been
denied him Of making her understand
how grateful he was for her tender
solicitude, especially when he saw that
to the last she had been mindful OF his
interests; for his lknapsaclz, rife and
ammunition were placed ready to his
hand, and a skin bag lay beside them
filed with dried meat and the heavy,
sodden maize cakes which did duty Tor
bread in that region. An these p-cpar
ations spoke as plainly as words that
the unknown friends, VINO had been
playing special providence to him. meant
him to take his immediate departure
His first act was to examine the out
side of the dwelling which had 50 long
afforded him shelter He found u TO
be simply a cave in the solid rock,
partly natural, partly the work OF man,
temples of Buddhn, abandoned as
place of worship centuries ago, which
are to be found all over this interesting
country. His next task was to exam
inc Cores papers, the most valuable OF
which was a chart and long descrip-
ton of the country he would have to
travel From this 1t appeared that he
was even now within few days march
Of tho place where Capt, Frank Archer
had carried the victim of his treuchery.
This was described as a ruined city.
Arthur Dunbar had read enough to
know that there were hundreds OF such
mysterious ruins scattered over the face
OF the country, even IN neigh borhoods
now almost inaceessibie-cities of re
mote eras, displaying in their molder-
ing fragments relics of q civilization far
in advance Of the barbarian inhabitants
scattered over the miserable villages in
the present day.
Needless to relate Arthur's tramp
over the rough path through the woods,
of the risks he ran and the dangers he
encountered.
Behold him as he steps from the dark
shadows OF the forest one moonlight
night into the broad expanse of a love
ly plain, and gazes awestruclE at the
ruins of a city once magnificent, whose
grandeur has vanished like q tale that
is told. The palaces have fallen, the
Z
the leopard crouches in the porch of the
temple, the owl roosts in its easements,
the jaclal roams it's deserted streets.
Only the great granite slabs of Buddha,
hooking time, stand perfect in their lone
/ ly grandeur. Gigantic idols before whom
/ millions once bowed, vucantiy stare At
l the utter desOlation. No man can say
what fate befen those hosts of heatheus.
/ who, centuries before the time Of
[ Christ, trod the streets of this once fair
/ city
Arthur Dunbar gazed at the sight in
/ solemn awe then, calling the dog to
/ his side, he sought shelter under n
| ruined gateway, to await the dawn Of
the day, which he knew would be SO
futeful to him.
His hours of precious sleep were
short. When the blazing sun dawHcd,
he realized more fully the beauty of his
surroundings. He was on the verge of
a plain studded with beautiful trees,
among which the palm lowered in
| graceful majesty. PeacOclSs spread
/ their gaudy plumage as they struttcd
over the green turf, pcicans dOatcd
like huge balls of snow in the air, and
great white land cranes stood as still as
though they We're carved in marble.
But harlzl the gurgling. sweet, soft
sounds of the bulbul and the grooming
melody Of the jungle partridge.
But Dunbar's spirit was too veNed for
him to revel in the glory of beautiful
scenery; for he fully realized tGc dan
GCrs of his position.
Keeping under the shadows of the
Crumbling walls, hc threaded his way
through the labyrinth of ruins, his doc
well at heel, and every sense acute for
n coming peril; but the only things
which startled him were the huge liz
ards which scuttled away to their lairs
in the rocks. AS for the birds and
monkeys, they paid no attention to him
for most of them We're sacred animals
among the natives and utterly indiAer
Cnt to the approach of mans footsteps
? No sign of human habitation among
, these 5ismantlcd halls. All, yes-thC
scene bursts upon him with startling
suddeuuess-an open clearing, spa
; cious wooden house with q broad veran
< dab, a well built bungalow, in fact, and
/ sitting on a rocking chair, a man, while
another stands beside him rifle in hau'
and evidently equipped for "a hunting
, xPediJiOn-and, both Europeans.
Before he cun stay him, the dog ha
e | sprung from his side and is fawuingl,
: caressing the man reclining on the chair
d literally bowling in the ecstacy of hi
o JOY at the meeting.
e Before Dunbar can spring behind til
/ friendly shelter OF "a rock. the man wit
the rifle advances and challenges him
At a glance Dunbar assured himsel
that the tail, erect, handsome man O.
fifty approaching him was the redoubi
able Frank Archer, AID he had shrew
suspicious that the one in the chair wa
Sir Harry Gruhame.
The young American had no time t
| prepare q story suitable to the occ1
! sion, thrust as he was by accident int
the heat of the adventure; and it wa
very creditable to his natural courap
and peace of mind that he advance
without 81 trel lr on his handsom
cOunteuance-nay, even with smile
II presume 1 have the honor of al
dressing Capt. Archer?'' he asked.
What do You want with Cap
ArcheE?" was the stern response, ucithe
denying nor admitting the identity.
''Some papers belonging to hin hav
accidentally fallen into my possession
and I have come a tedious Journey
restore them to him"
That is very kind Of you. May
ask, sir. how you came by these docl
II ments? My namC is Archer and the
IS are doubtless mine"
= by the oldest accident that ever %
e fell me-" Dunbar said, franlzly.
- have fsaar r1sn n shooting a~--7.s7sHzr,-r "a