The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1901-09-06
OsjyU UUg33OOC53o
THE TRAITRESS.
The Story of the British Rout
at N[ajuba Hill.
BY P. Y. BLACK.
Copyright, 1901. by P. Y. Black.
Copyright, 1901. by P. Y. Black.
BY P. Y. BLACK.

GOO ocCo oCCo oCCo oC0o oCCo oCC
IN 1LD Dom Jan, major in the pa
IN triot army, was of far too vio-
lsIiflfHs lent and explosive nature to
kD restrain the passion which
filed him upon this discovery. His tre-
| mendous roars of rage far more than
filled the house, They volleyed down
the one street of the village His
wrath, as his joy, as his good fortune,
he seldom hid within himself, nor even
in the immediate circle of his family.
His heart, like those of most men Of
a natural and not acquired honesty,
was worn upon his sleeve. Already the
village was aware of Martha de Kalb's
incredible treachery and was at its
| doors, sorrowful, wondering, angry, in
its divers moods.
Major de Kalb now stood at his own
open door, brandishing the fatal letter.
Young Peter was in the spider, already
prepared to drive the trembling rene.
gade from her home forever. Inside,
the fat and motherly Tante de Kalb
sat in a huge chair and walled and
wept and implored her husband to be
less hasty, to be more merciful.
There are three things which the old
time Boer loves, and these three are
placed in interchangeable order-his
God, his country and his home-that is,
his family. AS his country would yield
preference to his religion if such case
might occur, so must his child give
place to his country. To ask him to
shelter Martha, who had hurt the
Transyaal's cause, was to ask too much
from Dom Jan. Therefore poor Tante
de Kalb walled in vain. The broad
shouldered, bearded, steel hearted old
Boer only turned the torrents Of his
rage upon his wife.
'.No fault but yours, vrouw!" he
shouted, and in the orange scented
silence of the village in the valley his
voice sounded distinctly in the ears Of
the listening neighbors and passed up
the hillsides to tremble far into the
heart of the woods. mo fault but
your own! To play the piano Che
brought his fist down on the cottage
AAAotA uAdCAt OOuSAL LUZ LIS OduE AlGI 50
that he split the top in halves), to jab-
Der poetry, to be educated, to be like
any cursed Englishman's daughter
that's what you insisted upon and
coaxed and cried for"
"Oom Jan! Dom Janr' his wife wall
ed "Why not? Are the English to
enjoy everything, and our children
nothing?'
1--WE enjoy what our fathers enjoy
ed; our children can enjoy the same.
They were at peace and happy and
blessed in the Lord, without pianos and
education-without the English. The
English! They have invaded my coun-
try, and now-they have destroyed my
home"
The old woman sobbed.
Don't send the daughter away" she
cried. "After all, do not all the maid
ems love at some timew
"Lovew roared the old patriot.
"Love! Love an Englishmanl What
kind of love has she who will betray
her fatherland for her love? Listen
again, then, you old. foolish woman. to
the letter."
In the same loud voice he began to
read the missive which the unhappy
mother had found among her daugh-
ter's things, and innocently handed to
him.
Dear Grill love you all the more foe the 50.
licitude with which you write me of what you
call my danger, but how could I, nv dear. even
II desired to. leave my post at this late dayP
All that you say Of the Transvaal's preparations
may be true. Still what can unslilled farmers do
against the trained troops we hayef II will be
one brush, and they will see their folly. Then
there will be quick peace, and you and viii
meet again, as in the happy days when / first
met you in Cape Town. To that timei Your own,
49, NED VENABLE.
T. S-My dear, your news Is very interesting,
but is 1t not dangerous-dangerous for you-to
write such things? This goes by your own Kafr
messenger.
Sand that Kafir is pretty well
thrashed to deathP' cried the Boer, rip
ping the letter furiously and stamping
on the scraps. so, by my fathers,
would you be. girl, If you were not
girl and my vrouw's childr'
Father, father, l meant no wrongl''
cried his daughter and clasped her
hands and wrung them, sobbing.
She had come in from her chamber
dressed for her enforced journey. She
did not look like the traitress they de-
nounced her as, although undoubtedly
she had given information to an officer
OF the enemy's army. She was of the
best Boer type-almost of the old
Dutch, save that her cheeks were more
flushed with the kiss Of the sun and
her blue eyes were usually, though not
now, clear with the light Of freedom.
Her yellow hair was neatly coiled on
| her white neck. Even now in her grief
and humiliation there was in her walk
and her carriage the grace of a woman
accustomed from childhood to run on
the veldt, to gallop across it bareback.
to take part in many OF the exercises
which had helped to make OF her IA
ther, Dom Jan, the physically grand
man who now stood glaring upon her.
'Father, father. meant no wrongy'
she cried.
''No wrongg he repeated and pointed
almost pathetically to the torn paper
at his feet. HAS all your education in
Cape Town not taught you what
treachery means? Is 1t no wrong to
send secret messages OF the Trans
walls preparations,' to send news