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Transcriber's note:

   Inconsistent spelling, particularly names of characters in
   the original text, has been retained, as has variable
   punctuation.

   The table of contents has been added for the convenience of
   readers.

   In the advertisements at the end, text enclosed by equal signs
   was in bold face in the original (=bold=) and text enclosed by
   plus signs was underscored (+underscored+).





THE RHODESIAN

       *       *       *       *       *

GERTRUDE PAGE'S NOVELS.

  _In cloth gilt, 6s._

SOME THERE ARE----.

FOLLOW AFTER.

WHERE THE STRANGE ROADS GO DOWN.

WINDING PATHS.

  _In cloth gilt, 3s. 6d._

TWO LOVERS AND A LIGHTHOUSE.

  _Also in cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. net._

JILL'S RHODESIAN PHILOSOPHY.

  _In cloth, uniform with this volume, 1s. net_.

PADDY THE NEXT BEST THING.

LOVE IN THE WILDERNESS.

THE GREAT SPLENDOUR.

THE EDGE O' BEYOND.

THE SILENT RANCHER.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE RHODESIAN

by

GERTRUDE PAGE

Author of "The Edge o' Beyond," "The Silent Rancher," etc.







London: Hurst & Blackett, Ltd. Paternoster House, E.C.




TABLE OF CONTENTS

        I  THE POLICE STATION
       II  THE MISSION STATION
      III  TWO HEIRESSES
       IV  THE RHODESIAN PROJECT
        V  WILLIAM VAN HERT
       VI  THE JOURNEY
      VII  CAREW IS DISTURBED
     VIII   TWO UNEXPECTED MEETINGS
       IX   THE BEAR
        X  A MINING CAMP
       XI  AN EVENING RIDE
      XII  THE MISSION STATION
     XIII  A DECISION THAT FAILED
      XIV  THE ANCIENT RUINS
       XV  CAREW RIDES AWAY
      XVI  "THE SHIP OF FOOLS"
     XVII  AN EVENING CONVERSATION
    XVIII  THE CHARTER FLATS
      XIX  THE CONVENTIONALITIES ONCE MORE
       XX  FAREWELL
      XXI  A "HOARDING HUSTLING"
     XXII  MERYL'S DECISION
    XXIII  CAREW'S STORY
     XXIV  A RAIN-WASHED MORNING AND A DISCUSSION
      XXV  AILSA LEARNS CAREW'S SECRET
     XXVI  "HOW CAN I GO TO HER!..."
    XXVII  DIANA BEGINS TO GROW PERPLEXED
   XXVIII  DIANA'S PERPLEXITIES INCREASE
     XXIX  A USEFUL BLUNDER
      XXX  DIANA IS RESTLESS
     XXXI  THE SOLUTION IS SEALED
    XXXII  A CHAPTER OF SURPRISES
           FINIS




TO THE PATHFINDERS


    "Fate lies hid,
  But not the deeds that true men dared and did."




THE RHODESIAN.




I

THE POLICE CAMP


The velvety darkness of a southern night, with its sense of rich,
luscious, breathing intensity, lay over that romantic spot in Southern
Rhodesia where the grey walls of the Zimbabwe ruins, with a sublime,
imperturbable indifference, continue to baffle the ingenuity and
ravish the curiosity of all who would read their story. Scientists,
archaeologists, tourists come and go, but the stern old walls, guarded
by the sentinel hills, give back no answer to eager questioning, eager
delving, eager surmise.

But in the meantime the Valley of Ruins no longer lies alone and
unheeded in the sunlight; and no longer do the hills look down upon
rich plains left solely to the idle pleasure of a careless black
people. The forerunners of to-day's great civilising army have marched
into the valley, and beside the ancient walls there is now a police
camp of the British South Africa Police, presided over by two robust
young troopers.

In the velvety darkness on the night in question there is a single
bright light pouring through the open doorway of a dwelling-hut.
Through the enfolding silence breaks the bizarre music of an
indifferent gramophone, recklessly mocking the sublime grandeur of
the age-old antiquities. Laughter and gay music and devil-may-care
colonists awaking echoes that have been more or less silent to
civilisation for how many thousand years?

But on this particular evening it is as though some shadow had fallen
upon the little camp. Nothing tangible--nothing that changed the
general habits or surroundings--but a vague regret and introspective
sadness upon the faces of two young men, usually full of careless
content. Cecil Stanley, the more refined, a gentleman by birth and
education, lounged low in his chair, with his hands behind his head
and his feet on the table, and ever and anon his eyes looked with
pained regret into the surrounding depths of night. Patrick Moore,
with a grave face, cleaned his gun in a deeper silence than usual,
proceeding with an occupation that was his joy on many evenings,
whether the gun needed cleaning or not, rather as if it eased his mind
to have his hands busy.

"I wonder if the Major will come through to-night?" he remarked, as if
the silence were growing over-oppressive.

"Sure to," laconically. "The moon will be up directly, and he can't be
very far away."

"I suppose he won't have heard?"

"Not likely to have done. Gad! I feel as if I'd give anything to have
had a chance to stand three hours in that queue. It will hit him hard.
If it's bad for us, who have at least known all along, it will be
worse for him, hearing it suddenly at this late hour. Those newspapers
to-day have made me feel like a kid on his first day at
boarding-school. I'd like to cry if I weren't ashamed to."

"I liked that professor," said Moore, changing the subject. "Decent
old Johnny, wasn't he? Jolly nice of him to bring all those papers in
case he came across anyone glad of them."

"Quite a good old bird. That's a rum theory of his about the corpses
in the temple being buried deeper than anyone has yet dug, and hung
with valuable ornaments. Wouldn't it be a jolly lark to dig down for
one and have a look at it!..."

He gave a low, half-hearted chuckle over his gruesome suggestion, and
lazily getting to his feet, selected another tune for his gramophone.

Moore, busy still with his gun, gave a