Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-04-13


tutored gun-boy was fairly thrust
ing into the small of his back as
they slid down the muddy trail. The elephant
tracks were a good two hours old and voices
were unguarded. "Nomine hi-like tr-is" And
Drew illustrated toT the dozenth time to the
needless black. The gun was ON safe, but one
never knew when the catch might be moved.
And when that gun went OF, Drew did not
mean it to be into his own back-he meant it
for the back of the white man Flooding ahead
of them
Sloane was not to return from the hunt. The
defniteness Of that deciston, reached at last
after agonies Of Soul-searcaing, brought TO Drew
the desperate quiet of f1nality And already he
had discovered how one became wonted to ideas
He told himself he would feel no more real
conjunction about putting Sloane out Of life
than he would beast-not so much. The dim
Guilty was how to do it. He'd rather not have
to fake an accident, of course. But so long rs
Sloane and he were not alone-and he had
induced Barton to join them for that very
reasOn-there would be q reliable witness for
Che accident theory 70 testify for him.
What he hoped for was another kind Of ac-
cident-an elephant charge or a mix-up with
buffalo Anything might happen on a hunt.
The deuce Of it was that it rarely happened TO
the right man. Drew reflected, with grim rue
fumess-but he meant very decidedly to assist
Fate to the utmost of his opportunity. He had
a conviction that the next few days were going
to see an end to the nightmare.
THEY must, or he'd go mad-run amuck and
kill Sloane with his bare hands some fine
day after one of Sloane'S hiccoughing leerS. And
then the fat would be in the fire. What re-
manned Of his own cool intelligence told him
that he must do the job now, before people
hat fkanPa hod hcfu
them, before any slandering tongue put its mark
on young Peggy's innocent name.
The thing must end. For months he had
had 70 think of that brute living in that lonely
house with Peggy and not another white, but
SlOaneS child, within miles and miles Of wilder
ness She dared not leave Sloane, for she would
not abandon the little b5y, that helpless child
Of her dead sister, to his RACES; she knew what
moods he would wreak on the child. Drew had
seen her finch IS she passed the kibOko-the
whip Of rhinoceros hide that Sloane kept
hanging in their hall.
Peggys elder sister had been Sloane's first
wife; she had died and the baby had been
sent home to England, 10 young Peggys care.
It was easy TO see, knowing Peggy'S warm, out
pouring heart and It's tenacious Royalties, why
she had married Sloane rather than be sep
arated from the child when he had come to
fetch II back TO Africa with him.
She was such Q child herself! And then, too.
she had not the remotest notion Of the real
Sloane-the outward husk Of him was rather at
tTaetive IN q big, burly. hieh-colored way. The
man had power and personality, and could be
decent and civil enough when he chose. He
might have seemed rather q hero Of fellow
to IN inexperienced young girl, with his tales
Of native uprisings and lion hunts; and Africa
made a background Of glamour for her eager
imagination. 1t was Africa the girl was mar
rying, rather than the man-Africa, and the
child Of her sister, wh6 was so much her own
child that separation was unbearable.
Drew had never seen SloaEes first wife. He
had only come into this part Of Uganda after
her death. In those days he had never seen
any more Of Sloane than he could help, for he
had sheered away from the man in Instructive
dislike
There were unpleasant tales about him, but
Drew was not particularly moved by the tales
one heard either too much or not enough IN
Africa. His aversion was deeper-rooted. He
had always felt that Sloane surmised 1t, and
took his own peculiar pleasure in embarrassing
him by his POPULARITY in their infrequent meet
ings
For all the whispered tales Sloane had p
decided leadership among the planters, won by
the vigor Of his opposition 10 the government
methods in the protectOrate He was a coffee
man and was outSpoken In his demand for
compulsory labor, which the planters needed
and he denounced the taxes and native schools
and land restrictions with fearlessness which
the others admired, though did not always dare
to emulate.
Drew had never denied the man his ele-
mental courage and dominating force. He ap-
peared to glory in his unpopularity in official
circles, but Drew had learned that his Sneers
hid thin-Skinned resentment. His egoism was
unreStng. He imagined adronts.
DREw had learned to know his neighbor
since the day, down in Kampala, when
Sloane had appeared at the club with his new
wife. That incredibly innocent looking girl,
with her friendly smile and her bright gray
eyes, under the elfin locks Of soft brown hair!
Sloane was q crouch, disagreeable crouch.
When he saw that she uuas nfFnndnd In, his haA