The daily morning journal and courier. [volume] (New Haven, Conn.) 1894-1907, 1896-08-11
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THE MYSTERY AT MAMMA.

~ Nuo I'll thetAN''t NSSS' NANN- SNNS N''Nf'
mometer marked one hundred and
three degrees in the shade. I was
quartered with two fellow-officers in
charge of the outpost at Mamma,
where our duty consisted in keeping
the roads open and looking after the
Dacoits who infested the country for
miles round. Lower Burmah was quiet
enough. Prendergast had done his
work, and done 1t well. Theebaw was
prisoner, and the country quiet; but
acts Of secret reprisal, robbery and
murder were of daily occurrence, and it
was to check these that had been sent
up-country with a handful Of loyal
Sikhs.
Our little camp was dull enough; our
sole recreation occasional shooting ex-
petitions and more frequent whist.
Sometimes we received visits from
Wrottesley, the resident, whose bunga-
low was at the foot Of the hill we occu-
pied AT others we descended and
played with him. But on these occa-
sions we We're driven to dummy whist,
as we could not all three leave camp
together.
M JiiC htSoiAt dpOQt tiiN iiAASNAtS VI 4'h'sNNAff
Martingale and I had gone down to the
residency, leaving Valley in command,
and we had received the customary
welcome from Wrottesley He was a
good specimen of the type of man who
builds up our empire in the east. Her
culean in figure, full Of character, pos
sessing an indomitable will, and abso-
lutely fearless, he was ready to face
any peril, and went through life with a
smile upon his face. He was in short,
typical Englishman living example
Of the triumph Of mind over matter.
II wonder you aren't dead" ex
claimed Martingale, as our host mixed
gin and soda This country Is a
perfect hell"
use. my dear chap. Use is second
nature This place is positively
healthy compared with Kulema VIII ere
used to be. That's matter of four
hundred miles west of this. and there It
was almost a waste of time to order
dinner; before you had eaten tiffin you
might be buried before it was cooked"
THAT sounds rather nice" / said:
its consoling to know that we might
be worse off than we are. But / agree
with Freddy that this place is pretty
beastiy. It isn't the heat only-though
that's bad enough--but it's the awful
gloom of 1T. One day like another;
nothing to do. The hideously serene,
expressionless faces round about; the
lack Of companionship; and then the
eternal being on the qui vive for some
thing to happen that never does. It's
1 a. 49,.
1T is If you take on like that" re-
piled the resident. but why do you?
Take lesson from me. / never exert
myself. / do my routine as it occurs;
read my mail when 1t comes; write my
dispatches when they are due; and
then l reap my reward when the round
is done, and go home on a furlougf."
"But how about when you come
back?"
I'm not coming back; I've done my
twelve months; and next year / shall
have a berth down river. somewhere
out Promeway, where the temperature
never goes over ninety degrees And
I'll tell you chaps a secret'-he smiled
as he said this, and read our looks of
inauiry-'I'm not coming back alone.
either"
Martingale whistled.
This Is real news" he said. when
is it to be?"
well, I go home in October, and
shall probably be married in February,
returning at the end of the year. The
commissioner minuted my appointment
last week"
We congratulated him. and resumed
our game in better spirits.
We stayed at Wrottesley's till quite
late and had many an awkward COLI
sion with brush and bush on our
homeward climb through the darkness.
But we reached our tents before mid
night, and found Whalley fast asleep
and all serene.
Shortly after breakfast the next
morning we were surprised by the APP
pearance of Martingale's servant
Tommy, who was evidently the bearer
| of some bad news
IF you please, sir, here's that chap
with the awful name from the Resi-
dent He's talking lot of rubbish as 1
can't make out, and I think there's
something wrong with Mr.. Wrottes-
ley"
We both sprang up and, regardless of
| the heat, went out to where the mes
| senger stood.
| We found the sirdar-bearer and con-
| fidential servant who had waited on us
over night, who was evidently in per-
| turbed state. His usually copper-col-
| ored complexion had become ashen; his
sarang. till now always carefully
| Swathed and falling in faultleSs folds
| was awry. His story was soon told.
| Something was wrong with his master.
He was i'll, very i'll; perhaps dead.
| Would we come?
| Martingale and glanced at one an
| other.
! do you stay here, Cranstone." he
said. land I will take VALLEY with me.
He has had more medical experience
| than you have"
| And then he called Tommy and babe
| him fetch quinine and opium, the small
| case of instruments, and some mustard
| leaves from the chest. In five minutes
they were off, and was left alone with
my thoughts
The incident had thrown a gloom
| around What should be ailing with
| Wrottesley? He was not the man to
sicken easily; he was young, strong
and seasoned. had parted from him
but seven hours ago. leaving him fit
and well as could be. Then it struck
me that there had been foul play.
| had often thought that it was, to say
the least. rash of Wrottesley to live
alone with only five or six natives for a
retinue and guard. He had laughed,