The record-union., 1893-01-06
A DEBT OF HONOR.

A flood of yellow sunshine on yell
low sand and a horse at the gal
lop. A horse guided by an Eng
lish boy, in blue spectacles, sitting
squarely enough, but somewhat stif1iy,
In his saddle, as if too Independent to
give himself away even to the joyous
swing of the handsome little beast be-
meath him. A big boy undoubtedly, but
boy for all his size, and despite the fact
that he was an Assistant Commissioner
of the third grade. In other words, one
appointed to administer justice to the ig
norant heathen; those ignorant heather
who seemed to have such odd ideas of
life and to require such immediate regen
eration-at the hands of an English boy.
In front, across the foreground, the
glaring white highroad for which he was
steering; to the left center gnarled,
knotted old jhand tree hung with colored
threads and patches, proclaiming it to be
still sacred to some effete modern form of
serpent worship; one of those mysterious
Indian cults Of which no one, not even
the disciples themselves. know anything.
Young Jones or Smith-what matters the
name when a character has but to figure
before the tootlights of single scene?-
noticed these threads and patches with
the quick but incomprehensive eye of
superiority. A not uncommon feeling of
cOntemptuous interest came over him,
which prolonged itself even when the
cause changed into a wonder why the
brute he was riding would not keep its
head at the proper angle. Then darkness
and silence
Smith-Jone horse put his foot into
rat hole and gave him bad fall-about as
bad fall as could well have been, short
OF those curious plunges over the edge of
one world into the next. He lay white
and still on the yellow sand, neither in
time nor eternity, for long while. How
long matters no more than his name, for
this IS the story of Smith-Jones, and it is
through his eyes and his thoughts that it
must be seen and told; therefore until he
began to regain consciousness the scene
remained, as it were, a blank, despite
the TACT that there were other actors on
the stage.
Most people when coming to themselves
(to use popular but confusing phrase)
meet first OF all the sound of slow, storm
spent breakers rolling in on some un-
known shore. Is it the one they are leav-
Ing, or the one to which they seek return?
Who knows? For the vague wonder is
stilled by a whispered hush growing
louder and louder, as if both worlds were
waiting. finger on lip, for a decision.
Then, as rule, comes Il kindly, familiar
voice or touch TO settle the question in IA
vor of this earth; perhaps some day it
may come to summon us TO another.
Smith, ones, however, felt something
so distinctly unfamiliar that he opened
his eyes in a fright, relieved to find him
self in that unmistakable flood of sun
shine which does not exist out of India.
Briefly he felt, or thought he felt, kiss
upon his lips. Now Smith-Jones, like
most well-trained, Unconditional English
ha6 n or to Ii L
Jumped them, like many other things.
under the generic term bosh, and con-
fined himself to reserved peckS at the
forehead of his mother, his sisters. his
aunts, and an occasional, very occasional,
cousin. Even when they had all stood
round in tears while Robin the gardener
hoisted the brandnew cabin-trunk on to
the fly, which from the large white pla-
cards on the luggage was evidently des-
tined to carry Smith-JoneS part of the
way to Bombay, he had only got as far as
kiss on the cheek, despite choke in his
throat ana a distinct inclination to cry.
And now? 1t was startling in the ex-
treme!
Lying on his back, prey to somewhat
alarmed surprise, he became aware
through his nose of a pleasant scent, and
through his eyes of the pendant mistle-
toe-like twigs of the jhand tree. Mistle-
tOe-yeS, that might account for the kiss:
but what about the perfume of roses?
There 1t was again, in company with an
old peacock's feather fan which looked as
If it were half through a severe molting.
Some one was tanning him, positively
tanning him for the feathers swooped
again and again Just above his face in com
posed curves suggestive of leisure and
perpetual motion. He tried to find out
more by turning his head: an effort
which made him realize that he had been
within an ace OF breaking his neck, and
Sobered him to acquiescence for time
Not for long, however, seeing that the
boy was a pertinacious boy. So, at the
expense Of fearful risk, he discovered a
hand and arm belonging to the fan; at
least if it was a hand and arm after all
and not merely withered brown branch.
Smith-Jone's blue eyes came to the con-
clusioh that it was at any rate the skele-
ton OF a hand and arm, and what is more
a curiously graceful skeleton. Then
being still confused out of speech, he
tried to arrest the arm by catching hold
of it, but either he had not yet recovered
Il lust estimate of distance, or it eluded
his grasp, for the even monotony of the
curve continued. And, on the whole, it
was pleasant enough to lie on ones back
in the yellow sand and be famed sleep
lily, gracefully; an enjoyment, however,
which could not be allowed long continu-
ance when there was horse to be caught,
a camp to be reached, judgment to be
IL.
short, on Smith-Jones' young shoulders
81 could get up now, if you would re-
move that FAM" he said at last, weakly
surprised at his own difficulty in string
ing two words together in a foreign
tongue.
There is no hurry, Huzoor." came in
immediate reply. The Protector of the
Poor being so very young, there is natu-
rally plenty OF time for all things ere he
has to leave life; yea, plenty of time"
What a remarkable voice Soft as the
cooling OF the doves in the jhand tree, and
no louder; the far-away echo of a voice.
toneless, yet mellow. But then the whole
experience was remarkable, and he Law
trying to piece common sense into it with
his brain still muddled by the Jar which
had so nearly sent him to still more novel
environments, until his hatred of bosh
made him sit up suddenly, unsteadily,
one hand supporting himself, the other
averting the sweep of the fan. There was
no doubt as to the place; yonder was the
white road, there the responsible hole,
the wallow in the sand where his horse
had rolled, the jhand tree gay in its
shreds and patches.
But what was that to one side of him?
Someone, either half-hedged girl or
shrunken old woman, seated in one of
those flat baskets which packmen use for
carrying their burdens. 1t was in effect,
a pack-b basket, since cords attached it to
one end OF banghy, or yoke, which
was resting against a net full of small
earthen pots fastened to the other ex-
fremity of the plant lever. The sight of
human being in pack basket was un-
usual, but Smith-Jones during the last
six months that is to say, during his
service in India) had seen so many
strange things that he set it down as vet
another eccentriclty of an eccentric peo-
pie. The occupant of the basket, how
seNNr -lNrg1 fae L