LITMIR.BIZ

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Stop, and return the box this instant. I promise to let you go free afterwards. If you refuse I will shoot you down as you run.”

      He stooped swiftly and picked up his weapon. Then he leapt over the rail and ran into the open.

      “Now,” he said, as he faced the deep shadow in which James had disappeared, and in which he still lurked, fearful that his figure would be seen as he crossed to the next, “come out and return the box. I give you half a minute. After that I fire.”

      He could see the faint outline of the man, while the moving leaves told of his probable position. Dick levelled his weapon, and waited till he judged the half-minute had passed.

      “Once more,” he called out, “are you coming?”

      There was no answer, only the leaves shook more violently. Dick took careful aim, and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into the very centre of the figure which he had dimly perceived. But he had a cunning fox to deal with, and forgot that he himself stood brilliantly outlined in the open. James Langdon knew that he had but to draw his fire to escape to the forest, for long before Dick could load again he would have gained the woods. He waited, therefore, till our hero’s patience was exhausted. Then he threw himself flat on the ground till the shot rang out. An instant later he was on his feet racing into the forest. And after him went his pursuer, hot with rage and anxiety. Dashing into the thick bush he endeavoured to come up with the fugitive, but all was dense darkness here. He struck his head against an overhanging bough, and a moment later caught his feet in a twining vine, coming with a crash to the ground. He was up in a moment, only to meet with the same fate again, while the half-caste, better versed in the ways of the forest, crept steadily along on all fours, feeling his way through the tangle. Dick was beaten, and in his rage he blazed right and left into the forest; but the shots did no harm to the fugitive, while hardly had their reverberation died down when there followed the mocking calls of the half-caste.

      “Set a watch and keep it, Dick Stapleton,” he shouted, “and learn to be wary when James Langdon is about. As to the box, have no fear for its safety. I promise to take care of the gold which it contains.”

      He gave vent to a boisterous laugh, a laugh of triumph, and then went on his way, leaving Dick trembling with fury.

      “Listen to this, you ruffian,” he shouted back. “You are a knave, and have robbed me as you did my father. Don’t think to escape. Some day we shall meet again, and then you shall answer for this crime.”

      A jeering laugh was his only answer, and dispirited, and well-nigh on the verge of tears, he retraced his steps to the house, and threw himself into his chair, a prey to the worst misgivings, wondering what he should do next, how he was to live, and how to repair his ruined fortunes.

      Chapter Two.

      Gallant Rescue

      Moderately tall and broad, with well-tanned skin and pleasant features, Dick Stapleton looked a gentleman and a decent fellow as he lolled on an old box which lay on the beach at Cape Coast Castle. He was dressed in white ducks from head to foot, while a big solar topee covered his head. His collar was thrown wide open, a light scarf being tied loosely round the neck, while his whole appearance gave one the impression that he was decidedly at ease. And yet he was not happy. A week had passed since the robbery, and in that time he had given full particulars to an apathetic police force. He had offered a reward for the recovery of the treasure, and he had wondered how and where he was to live.

      “There are the two houses,” he had said over and over again to himself. “One is the store, and has perhaps fifty pounds worth of goods in it. The other, the living-house, is of greater value. But they are useless to me, for without capital I cannot run the store, while without means I cannot live in the house. And I haven’t, so far, been able to come across a tenant. I’ve five pounds in cash, and when that goes I’m penniless.”

      He began to throw pebbles aimlessly, vaguely wondering what he could do to lighten his difficulties.

      “It is plain that there is no work for me here,” he said at length. “Practically every white man between this and Elmina is an official of some sort, while the natives don’t count. Of course there are the merchants and the storekeepers, but then I am neither the one nor the other now. Father even never made much more than a bare living, thanks, perhaps, to that robber. Ah, if I had had the means to organise an expedition I would have followed him; but then where should I have obtained an escort? These Fantis, fine fellows though they look, are really cowards, so I am told.”

      He watched one of the ebony natives lounging in the shade some little distance away, and noted his tall and well-proportioned figure. Then he turned to others, who sat with their toes dipping in the water, and their knees submerged every now and again as a big wave thundered on the sand. They were the kroomen, who were accustomed to play between shore and ship, and bring off passengers and baggage.

      “They will have work soon,” thought Dick, as his eye lit upon a steamer approaching. “But they know that it will be an hour yet before she is at her moorings off the coast. She’s a big vessel. One of the regular callers.”

      For a little while he gazed at the ship, wondering who were aboard, and which of the white officials who had gone away on leave some time before, fagged and debilitated by the trying climate, would return, and come ashore fresh and cheery, with that ruddy complexion common to Europeans and to natives of the British Isles.

      “Lucky beggars,” he thought. “They will have everything dear before them. They will take up the old work as if they had merely been for a day’s shooting up-country, and their friends whom they relieve will take their bunks and sail away. It would be a fine thing for me if I could get a billet under the Government.”

      He lay there for a long time reflecting, and as he did so the ship came rapidly closer. When a mile from the sandy coast she dropped her anchor, and those ashore could easily see the splash as it entered the water. Then she lay to, with her broadside facing the land, rolling and heaving with monotonous regularity. Dick watched the bustle aboard listlessly, for it was no unusual sight for dwellers on the Gold Coast, the White Man’s Grave. Time and again he wondered whether there might be some one aboard to whom he could offer the store and the house, or some one who would befriend him and perhaps obtain some post for him which would enable him to work for a living. For as the reader will have learned, Dick was in difficulties. He had come out some months before at his father’s urgent call, and had barely had time to look into the business of the store when his father died. Then came the theft of the gold, and here was our hero stranded indeed, with little experience, and with very few years behind him. No wonder that he was dismayed. That as his fingers closed on the five golden sovereigns in his pocket his mind went time and again to the future, wondering what would happen when those golden coins had perforce been changed into silver, and the silver had dwindled away.

      “If it had been in London,” he said, “I should have soon found work of some sort, or I would have eagerly taken the Queen’s shilling and enlisted. Here there is no work, at least not for a white man, and there is no supervising or overseeing job that I can get. Lastly, there is no recruiting station.”

      He had but stated the facts. For the past week he had been the round of the town, and had even gone, cap in hand, to the Governor.

      “We’re sorry for you, Stapleton,” the hitter’s secretary had said, as he shook Dick’s hand, “but we have nothing to offer. We can’t even take over your property, nor promise to look after it while you may be away. The best thing for you to do will be to get back to the Old Country, and try your luck there. You think of enlisting, do you? Well, it’s a fine profession, is soldiering, and you are the lad to do well. Perhaps you might even find your way out here again, for let me tell you something. That rogue, King Koffee, is stirring his Ashantee tribesmen up for war. He is itching for a fight, and means to force one. So you might pay us a visit. By the way, are you really in earnest?”

      “About the army, sir?” asked Dick.

      “Yes, about enlisting. So many young fellows threaten to take the step, but fail for want of pluck when the critical moment comes. You see, there are not so many gentlemen rankers, and whatever others say, there’s no doubt that the life

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