Plentywood herald. [volume] (Plentywood, Mont.) 1908-current, 1930-10-02


Copyright: 1890. BY Douglas Newtonl
NHE GURGUR quarter of Nance
Yorga is a multi-race slum built on
a sand spit where two jungle rivers
join and, being in a Latin colony, it
nuzzles in all its vices against a white
town" hat looks exactly as soft guitars
playing on milk white moonlight sound.
A pretty place, Nance Yorga proper,
with its dreamy palms and patios, if
morally a cross between a graveyard
and a garden of sleep; that is be-
cause. as an outpost town, it is right at
the bottom of civilizations bag. 1t is.
in fact, so hopelessly cut off by the
lowering African bush that the stern
wheel river boats can only bring it
news of the outer world every three
months. Between boats there is nothing
for the government bulamatari to do
but eat and sleep, flirt languidly with
a colleagues wife, and dream endlessly
of the day when he will retire to Eu-
rope with a fat pension and fatter
pickings.
The pickingS are certainly fat, since
the only reason for Nance Yorga'S ex-
istence is riches. To it. by its two
great rivers and its five aravan routes,
m the vast and easy wealth Of the
African interior, and quite a lot of that
wealth can be made to stick to the
fingers of the intelligent. The local
official knows this well, SO does the
African underworld-hence the Gurgur.
A place to make hell blush, the Cur
CUR, at the same time it was a haven
of refuge for gentlemen such as Sava-
ran, with prices on their heads. The
police Of Nance Yorga could be stern
enough, in their own quarter, especially
where there was blood money to be
gained. but being Latin they were also
both indolent and wise. 1t was better
to shut their Eyes to the Gurgur han
to stir up trouble that might be dis
astrous to white rule SO far from help.
Thus official Nance Yorga ignored the
Gurgur.
Savaran had no liking for the Cur
CUR, but it was convenient. He could
look after himself, he could defy the
police, he had money to spend, and it
was the n place where he could or
ganize an expedition that should set
all Africa ringing with his name again
before many months were out. Mean
while he halted at the end of the
blind gut in which his house stood and
looked with calm eyes at a mob of
multi-colored cutthroats milling about
a victim.
Some one, he saw, "a being robbed,
probably murdered, but local habits in
trigued him SO little that he was about
to return to Poison Charley's and
when a voice called:
"Savaran! Mr.. Savaran! Help!"
The call was English. The voice was
a woman's.
1t was quite remarkable-and SO was
Savaran. In ninety seconds the snarl-
ing street was as peaceful as a tomb
and rather like one. Two black figures
lay very still in the filth, while an
other craWled away on hands and
knees. The rest had scattered like dis
turbed flies at the mere knowledge that
Zavarani was among them. A Slim
legged Arab boy leaned against a wall
holding back his painting sobs with a
haik that half covered his face, and
Savaran, slipping his dagger back into
its jeWeled sheath, twitched the haik
aside. Then he laughed his harsh
laugh, caught up this boy who was no
boy in his long, spidery arms and
stalked towards his house. There was
the form Of another Arab boy lying
across the door, but Savaran took it
and the doorstep in his long stride.
MY couach!' cried a voice from his
arms. rs he hurt?"
Savaran put his burden down into
the house yard and returned to the
still form.
mot he" he said, with ferocious
geniality. Hes got his pay for bring
ing a sightseeing efferengi into the
Gurgur-he's dead"
The Arab boy who was no boy was
sitting IN the gold and silk divan Of
Savaran's inner room, trying to tuck
her slim, round, very shapely, and very
bare legs away from the sardonic glance
Of Savaran. Savaran had eyes for her
face, too. She made a good boy, short
featured and gallant looking; her bold
ness was softened by her undoubted
femininity to an alluring charm. She