The Kevin review. [volume] (Kevin, Mont.) 1922-1929, 1924-02-21
CHAPTER VI-Continued.

This was one of a block owned by
the syndicate. 1t ran its own native
store, which was in charge Of a fellow
named Kash, an Armenian, a little,
blear-eyed, scoundrelly-looking maraud-
er who, Ned Burns had said, made
most Of his revenue from the sale of
liquor to the natives in defiance of the
prohibi.~Ty law.
Satvwday afternoon was a half holt
day if the compounds, and at noon the
gatee were thrown open until midnight.
AS paost Of the natives were Bechuanas,
the formal challenges, followed by
mlrderous intertribal fights with knob
kerries, which were a regular Satur-
day afternoon performance on the gold
fields at Johannesburg, did not take
place at Malopo. During the weekend,
however, drunkenness and braWling
were universal, the length of the reef
was a scene of uproar and riot, to
which nobody paid any attention, and
the cause was the trade gin sold by
every storekeeper. 1t vas the current
belief that the native could not be
stopped from procuring liquor, and the
syndicate winked at Kash's activities.
Winton had looked on the matter diff
ferently from the first. While deter
mined to go slowly, the sight of Sea-
ton, lying dead drunk upon the floor,
reused him to furious anger. Burning
with indignation, he crossed the syn
dictate claim and entered the store.
1t was one Of the filthiest places that
Wlnton had ever seen. The front was
hung with secondhand clothing and
g~audy-colored blankets with lions and
heads of women woven patchily into
their surfaces. Canned foods, put up
years previously and probably con-
demned, twists of tobacco, cheap sweets
exposed to the innumerabIe flies, rolls
OF soiled calico in white and blue lit
tered the shelves, with beads and imi-
tation jewelry which the natives took
home to adorn the wives bought with
the earnings Of their apprenticeship.
Behind the counter stood Kash, blink
ing like an owl out Of the darkness.
you've been selling liquor to my
compound manager" cried Winton an
srily.
Kash flung up his hands in horror at
the suggestion. mo, sair!" he pro-
tested. 81 sell no drink to any one.
Never, sair! I'm good merchant, hon
est merchant /"
He had just finished speaking when,
before Winton could reply, a trap-door
in the floor opened, and there emerged
the head Of a yellow Hottentot, and a
hand wiping the mouth in evident sat
eyes rolled with fear. His head van
ished and the trap-door fell with a
eiang.
Winton was upon the spot in an in
Etant, pulled up the door, and saw be-
meath him a short flight of steps, lead
ing into a tunnel dimIy lit by a small
electric bulb. AS he ran down he heard
the Armenian screaming wildly behind
him. He reached the passage just as
the light went out. An electric bell be-
gan ringing. There was a scurrying Of
feet at the end Of the passage, where a
faint CLEAN of daylight showed. When
Winton reached it he saw a second
flight Of steps, and, ascending these, he
found himself in the syndicate COM
pound, with a gang Of half a dozen ma
tives flying before him in all directions.
He went back. to find that the trap
door had been closed and bolted be-
hind him. 1t was of hard oak, and re-
sisted. all his furious efforts to force it.
was nothing to do but to go back,
and Winton reached the second flight
Just in time to prevent a second trap
door at the bottom Of the wooden gal
Very being shut on him by one Of the