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T f'TWO OENTL ^ ^By SEWARD i Copyright. by Bobk* ' B3*irs3's Sox* CHAPTER XXX. CONTINUED. Gordon was a strict disciplinarian ?>Viar> t.nnno nrorA in frrirriqnn or ra<7U lar doty. But on all these expeditions discipline was relaxed, and the picked inen he had with him, who he knew wrere trustworthy, did pretty much as they liked. They were under the immediate command of a lieutenant, who lounged along, smoking a pipe, now and then sitting down by the mer to read a book, then rushing ahead to catch up with us. We did very little talking, we three, each being too full of his own thoughts to care for conversation. This was at least true of Gordon and myself. Seacamp, no doubt, would gladly have chattered, but we paid no attention * * trt- j? ^ a to lllUl. \> e irampeu uu, &ccpiu^ <* lookout for human beiug9 or their habitations. Late in the afternoon we reached a email settlement which we judged to be that spoken of by Orcutt. It was right on the river-bank, and stretched along it for a little distance. It was a typical native village, bul there was no person there. "Deserted," said Gordon, coming to standstill before an empty grass* house, and looking around him. "Yet there are signs that the place is inhabited," I said. "See, there art the remains of a fire?not an old one, either. The people who live here arc not far away." "I agree with you," replied Gordon. "As they did not pass us on our way here, they have probably gon6 further up the valley. Let us proceed." This time Gordon ordered the soldiers to keep together and to preserve ailence. A scout was sent on ahead with orders to observe without being observed, and at the first sight of a human being to come and warn us. * il? 1 ?1u "x a on s u&v iua muts vi u? j tiling," eaid Gordon. "There is something up. Some more fool-worship, I suppose." "Let's shoot them all," suggested Jollroy Seacamp. "No; that hardly seems advisable ? unless they oppose us," said Gor^ <iou. We cautiously continued our wa} op the winding course of the river. The falls were passed?a beautiful aoene, that would have attracted either of us under pleasant circumstances?but we were in no mood to appreciate natural beauty. "St!" came a voice ahead. The growth of trees and shrubs and tall grasses was now thicker than had been found lower down. A slight path could be seen leading through it., ^We were following this when wo heard the voice ahead. It was the scout. We crept slowly up to him. ''There's something going on," he aid. "See that opening between the boughs of these two trees ahead? Look through them. Do you see that fellow up on the ledge? Way up on the side of the precipice." We looked in the direction indicated. "I see him," I whispered. "So do I," said Gordon. < "Where? Where?" asked Seacamp. "That fellow is a sentinel," continued Gordon, ignoring Seacamp. "His position is apparently inaccessible. We can gain nothing by a show of force now. We must reconnoiter." "General, wait here," said the *cout. "Wait for me. I will return ?oon." "He can be trusted," said Gordon. That was all that was said. We waited, almost breathlessly for about twenty minutes. The rustling of grass and snapping -twigs told us of the upproach of the coat. "It'3 a temple," said the scout. "Can we reach it without being discovered?" asked Gordon. "Yes. That sentinel is watching the path. I found a way to get up behind him. Two of us could gag him And prevent hi3 giving the alarm." "Good," said Gordon. "What sort of temple is it?" 4 4T '4- 1-n^T T rroif f/i X UUii V auv r? JL V ? MAW wvr ?V?* m amy more. I beard voices as if pray - >1 Slowly and stealthily we followed the scout. He led us through a nartow defile and up a rough jagged rockway. He paused and held up his hand. Wo waited. He motioned for another soldier to follow him. A moment after they were gone we heard a hort scu.Be. "Come on," said the scout's voice ahead of us. "He's quiet." We crept over the ledges of rock. How we could hear the monotonous voices of praying priests. ' 'Some more KammiloukaniHtnaw ai," whispered Gordon. "Here is an entrance," said the ecout. .We advanced t? a position from Iemen j of hawaii. ? W. HOPKINS. 0) j whioh we could see the worshipers. They were in a temple, ornate with I ?j. -_-i- i?? ruue eiaUU1119UUICUi9 UITCU uuiu la?a I stone and coral. The temple wa9 lighted with huge candles?a native article that sputtered a great deal, but gave a good light. There was an altar?of coral rock? and in it was a man apparently seventy-five years old. His hair was white. His face was bronzed. He had the pose, the look of a Frenchman. "Jean Chicot!" whispered Gordon. "I believe it," I replied, trembling vith excitement. There was little doubt in my mind that I beheld the father-in-law of my nncle and grandfather of the heiress to his fortune. Before the altar knelt about twenty priests, all uttering what I recognized from horrible familiarity a3 prayers to the goddess Pele. Back of the priests sat a few women and children, all natives. Evidently the entire population of the village we had passed was inside the temple. "We must surprise them by a show of force now," said Gordon. He gave his orders in whispers. The men were ready to march in with tifie at shoulder. "Forward!" commanded Gordon, inf a loud voice. The command and the tramp of soldiers startled the natives. They turned and saw us. Then with shrieks of terror they ran around the temple, seeking for a means of escape. The man at the altar looked at us as we approached, calmly and reflectively. Ho did not seem alarmed. "Halt!" commanded Gordon. Then, turning to the man in the altar, he said: "Listen to me. We have not come to make war on you. We are looking for a person named Jean Chicot. He is described as a Frenchman, looking much like you. We know he is somewhere in the Wailuku Valley. If you are Jean Chico*, you are the man we want. Come with us. and these peo pie may depart in peace." The white-haired man waved his ; hand. "I am Jean Chicot," he said. "I know you not. I know not why you seek me. Yet I will come to you." His voice was the voice of an old, old man. Ho came toward us, and we noticed that he tottered with age. "Not very formidable now, at auy rate," said Gordon. "Why don't you shoot those priests," asked Seacamp, savagely. "Are you going to let the reptiles escape?" "We came after Chicot," was Gordon's reply. "Yon represent the queen. I am yours," saia unicoi vo uoraon. "There is no queen. I represent the government," replied Gordon. "No queen? 1Liliaokolani dead?" "No. She has bT, .eposed. Ha* Svaii is now a republic." "Save us, Pele!" ejaculated old Chicot. "When did this happen?" "Some time ago," replied Gordon, testily. He had not come up the Wailuku Valley to talk history. "Let us sit down. We want to talk to you." The priest and other natives went out. and Gordon ordered that the sentinel be set free. We went down where the priests had been and seated ourselves on their wooden benches. "I turn him over to you, Tom," ' said Gordon. "Jeau Chicot," I said, "where is your daughter Annette?" "Dead." "Where is your granddaughter Helene?" The old man sprang at me, but was feeized and pushed back to his seat. "Who are you?" he said. "My name is Warringford," I replied. "Hated name!" he cried, rubbing his hands together and exhibiting much emotion. "Another Warringford wronged me aud wronged my daughter; aud now you come with RnMiors to seize Helene!" "Where is she?" I asked. He did not reply. "Now, see here, Jean Chicot," I said. "I will tell you the whqle 3tory, and then perhaps you will help rue. My uncle, Thomas Warringford, is dead. He ieft papers and a will telling of his marriage to your daughter Annette. Ho told all about how 6he left him, how you stole her away from him, and took also the little Helene. Yet, in his last wish, he forgives, and desires Helene, his daughter, to receive his estate. In other words, Helene is the heiress of my uncle's fortuuo. I must find Helene and give over to her the estate which is now in my charge. You must do two things: You must show me proofs that Helene is the daughter of my uncle, and you must show me, if you still have it, the maiTiage certificate of Annette, your daughter. Then you must find Hel1 ane for me." . . TTfie olfffe/m looked at me, dazed. "Helene heiress!" he murmured. "HeleK\ my little Helene," that I taught and joyed, the heiress of that Warringfordr* "It is true," I said. "Do not let us waste auj time." "Where is Helene?" asked Gordon impatiently. "Is she hidden here?" "No. When she was little she was here, and I taught her. Ah! How well I taught her. She is noble, is Helena. She is grand. But she is e woman now. Ah! She is more than a woman, she is a priestess." "A priestess!" I cried. "Where is she?" "Not here," was Chicot's reply. "Far away; but we will find her. Come with me." He led us out of the temple and back through the valley. He was weeping. Whether it was joy, sorrow, surprise or imbecility that caused him to weep I did not know or care. Around us dark faces peered from the trees, and surprised-looking eyes followed us in our return tramp. Now and then a priest would show himself, then dart away again. There was no sign of warfare. Our display of soldiers forbade that. We reached the village, no longer deserted. The women had returned and were preparing their poi for supper. Chicot led ns to a larger and better Equipped house than the rest. "Here is my house," he said. "Helene will not know me now. She Will be a great lady. She will no longer care for the old teacher." "What is that? The old teacher?" J asked. "Does Helene not know you as her grandfather?" "No. Helene is a priestess. She Is taught that she is immortal. That is the way the Kammiloukaailimawai teaches its priestesses of Pele. No, Helene knows me only as the old teacher. She lived yonder in the tem? pie, and I taught her there. She is all I have, Helene, and now you come with soldiers to take her from me." "I Bhall not take her from you. You may go with me to find Helene, and, if she likes, she can take yon to live with her, for Helene will be wealthy ind can do what she likes." "Ah!" whispered the old man. "Will Bhe do that? Ah! I would not like to lose my Helene." He fumbled among some papers in a box he took from some corner of his hat. ' Is your wife dead?" asked Gor? don. "Yes. Helene is all I have." "How long have you been teaching of Pele?" "Many years. It is a beautiful thing, the worship of Pele." "Crazy as a bedbug,'' said Seacamp. "Loony as an owl. It's a wonder ha hasn't sacrificed Heleno to Pele long before this." A smile showed itself in the old man's face. "I have it here," he said. He handed me a roll tied with a ribbon. I undid it. It was a marriage certificate. In one corner was a picture of Uncle Tom. In the other? A mist came before my eyes. My hands trembled and the paper shook. I felt a sensation of horror go all through me. My brain seemed hot. My heart almos t burst. "What's the matter?" hoarsely asked Gordon. "Tom, Tom, man, speakl What is it? Anything wrong with the | marriage certificate?" "That face! That face!" I cried, hurling the paper at him and covering my eyes to shut out the sight. "A beautiful face," said Gordon, wonderingly. "A lovely face. No wonder your uncle fell in love with it. This is the picture of Annette, is it, Jean Chicot?" "Yes; it is Annette, the mother of Helene." "God!" I said. "Help me in this hour of trial. That face?that face? it is the priestess of Pele?Kaumai? the woman I loved?the murderess of iny sister?the woman we have sworn 'to kill! Oh, what mystery is this! "What miserable fate is this that makes a murderess of my uncle's wife, the mother of Helene?" "No!" shouted Chicot." "This is net the picture of Helene. It is the picture of Annette, her mother. Helene looks like her mother?very much like her." "And Helene!" I cried. "Speak, man, fool, beast! Where is Helene?" i "On Lanai, in the Temple of Pele I there, on Kapatoli." I felt myself going. I grew dizzy and faint with horror. "Come," I said. "There is nothing else to do. My uncle's wishes must be carried out. Afterward? afterward?God's will be done!" Silently and slowly wo trudged down the valley toward Wailuku. Silently, because that had happened which filled us with horror. Slowly, because it was getting on toward night, and the mountains hid the moon. Slowly, too, because Jean Chicot, tottering, jet strong, walked with us. Gordon strode ahead, smoking furiously. He frequently ht,d to wait for us to come up with him. On his facs was a dark, ominous look, foreboding jilL And it was no gentle hand thai help.frfl J^an Qhioot oyer rough ?laog?. r ^ ""The devil's in it aH," I heard Seacamp grumble to himself. *1 can't understand it, but the deyil is now on top.** " * (To be continued) '\\ Length of Life. Even a chronic pessimist ought to dud something to be cheerful about in the recent census bulletin on the mortality statistics of th United States for the decade ending In 1900, says Leslie's Weekly. The bulletin shows that the advances made in meqical science and sanitation and in preventive and restrictive measures enforced by the health authorities have had a striking effect upon the comparative death rate for the cities of this country where a system of registration is in force. In 1890 the death rate in 271 cities of 5,COO or more population was 21 per 1.000; in 1900 the rate was 18.6 in 361 cities of 8,000 population and upward?a reduction of 24 per 1,000. Another statement of special interest and significance just now is that the deaths reported as due to consumption, including general tuberculosis, decreased from ;245.9 per 100,000 of population in 1890 to 190.5 in 1900?a very large reduction, due, the census authorities believe, to the better knowledge of the disease and the measures adopted for its prevention. raaqi qip* poo.*v oqj ejEuSajdraj .f[inj o; }[noqj|p XiSnrpaaoxa sj 'asiAuaqjo ides sji Xq uaqej sauji aqi mouoj UJO 44 U|31|tiJ AL( JJUU.a U + Uj ? ? Alis?a Aum sao{jBaBd3J<I ojidasuuv ATLANTIC COAST LINE R. B. CO. CONDENSED SCHEDULE. TBAINS GOING SOUTH. Dated Jan. 15.1902 Noo5. No. 35. No.51 P. M. A. M. Leave Wilmington *3 45 f6 00 Leave Marion 6 40 8 45 Arrive Florence. 725 925 P.M. A.M. Leave Florence *8 00 *3 30 Arrive Sumter 9 lo * 4 33 No. 52 P. M. A. M Leave Sumter 9 15 *9 25 Arrive Columbia 10 40 11 05 No. 52 runs through from Charleston via Central R. R., leaving Charleston 6 00 a. m. Lanes 7.50 a. m., Manning 8 39 a. m. train's going nobtb. NoT54. No. 53. No.50 A. 31. P. M. P. M. Leave Colombia *6 65 *4 40 " ?? ft on e* ?d Arnve tsumter o<v o i* No. 32 A. M. P. M. Leave Sumter 8 20 *6 19 Arrive Florence '. 9 35 7 35 yi 40 A. 1L Leave Florence 10 10 .... 8 15 Leave Marion 10 53 .... 8 54 Arrive Wilmington 1 40 .... 11 30 Dally. fDaily except Sunday. No. 53 runs through to Charleston, 8. C., via Central R R .arriving Manning 6 53 p. m-. Lanes 7 35 p. m.t Charleston 9 20 p. m. Train No. 63 makes close connection at Sumter with train No. 59, arriving Lanes 9 45 a. m., Charleston 11 85 a. m., Tuesdays Thursdays and Saturdays. Trains on Conway Branch leave Chadbourn 12 01 p. rn., arrive Conway 2 20 p. m., returning leave Conway 2 65 p. m? arrive Chadbourn 520 p. m., leave Cbadbourn 5 35 . p. ra.. arrive Elrod 8 10 p. m., returning leave Elrod 8 40 a. m., arrive Chadbourn 11 25 a. m. Daily except Sunday. H. M. EMERSON, Gen. Passenger Agent. ? ? 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