The Furnaceman.
Clutha Leader, Rōrahi XXIV, Putanga 1219, 12 Whiringa-ā-rangi 1897, Page 7
Mō tēnei niupepa
The Furnaceman.
(By A. Ml. Clelland.)
CHAPTER 11. The Heath, even at that early day, had lost much of its original beauty (now a certain poru'on of it has been converted into a public perk, '.he rest having been absorbed into 4 Greater Blacktown ') j stagnant pools lav in little hollows here and there; pyramids of furnace sing dotted its surface, with no blade of grass or herb on their black, glassy slopes; the few attenuated cows cropping about dejectedly just imparted the one remaining touch of rusticity. Still it must be admitted that, a few I short hours before Geordie walked j across it so determinedly (his heart } full of grief his tnind bent on revenge), even Castor Heath was beautiful. The sunlignt struck the pieces of slag till they flashed like so many diamonds ; the bright beams fell upon each pool ond converted it into a dazzling mirror, an early lark poured fouth its joyous matins, an early dew had collected in liquid drops on each tuft of heather, and the air was full of the delicate ' odour of the whin blossoms. I But the morning's early promise had not been fulfilled. The south wind had called up damp looking clouds ; the horizon was hazy and indistinct, J the pools sullen, the slag heaps ugly and coarse. Everything, in fact, about the Heath was in keeping with the features of the solitary figure which strode on towards its north-western extremity : gloomy, forbidden and re- ; pellant. Geordie's frionds hesitated a little ! before they followed him. They were j still somewhat mystified, and needed to ply his landlady and Mrs Perrin with numerous questions before they recognised" the full import of his invitation to come and see it. Then they hesitated no longer. 'It was likely to prove such a fight as had never been seen in those parts in the memory of the oldest inhabitants (and thpy were not slow to wrath in Biacktown at that time,) and they wouldn't miss it on any recount. Failing a wedding, what could be better than an opportunity of witnessing a bout between the would-be bridegroom and the , man who had wronged him ? They hastily called together some dozen or so of the most responsible . males who were about the Row at , that time of the day g and soon followed Geordie across the Heath. , The group was a somewhat miscel- . laneous one, and strangely contrasted in detail, both as regards motive and . dress?. Geordie's friends weie attired in full holiday fig, and were bent on seeing fair play. Others of the men, , clad in their usual workaday clothe.", and black and grimy as to face 3 and ; hands, were actuated by a desire to , view what promised to be a very sanguinary 'slogging' match. The landlord ot the 'Pig and Pipe' was there, making varied bets with the easy nonchalance of one who would pay himself in malt, if not in meal. The old barber, Tarpin, was also among the crowd, perhaps the only one whose motives were entirely disinterested. He was anxious, and afraid that the encounter would lead to far more terrible consequences than any of the light-hearted men around him thought of. He had not scraped men's faces for over fifty'years without beingable to read theircharacters somewhat. Lastly, well in the rear, hung half a dozpn small boys and a couple of snail dogs, who were there — well, simply because dogs and small boys cannot kepp away whenever mischief is forward. No woman was present, the unwritten law of Milton Row decreeing that on such occasions a woman's room was better than her company. 'Do you think he'll stand to it? 1 asked a burly smith of the land- j lord. | ' Who 1 Tim V queried mine host, 'as ' he booked his seventh Viet. • Stand to it 1 Rather !' I • I misdoubt it,' said a third man, one of the wedding party. • It'll be strange if Geord'o doesn't pound him to a : jelly.' | * Tim's tough an' wiry,' objected the landlord, • an' will stan' up to Geordie. Though, mind you,' desiring to ingratiate himself with both factions, for a J landlord must not be partial, ' Tim's a i miserable kind o' cuss, an' 1 shouldn't be sorry to see Geordie win.' The stone, house, or, rather, cottage, to which Tim had carried Liz, stood on the edge of a little copse on the far side of the Heath, and Geordie's friends came in sight of him when he was within about a couple of hundred yards from the cottage gate. They hung back a little and let him enter the garden alone, while they took up a commanding position on the sward in front. Now Geordie's heart had not grown any softer as he crossed the Heath. Rather was he more determined than ever to be revenged on the man who had wrecked his love and shattered his hope, and as he crunched along the little path leading from the garden gate to the door, he felt fully inclined, if not to ' pound Tim to a jelly,' at least to leave marks upon his body which he would bear with him to the grave. He had raised his huge foot preparatory to kicking in the door, being
fully persuaded that Tim was in thr room beyond, when something happened which changed the whole current of his thoughts. For as he reached the door he heard a light ripple of laughter from behind it, his sweetheart's laugh, which, as it struck upon the ear of this untaught and terribly-wronged man, caused the scales to fall from his eye 3 and led him to see that he was standing on the thieshold of murder. 'Ay ! an' worse nor that,' he muttered, for Geordie was not accustomed to make moral comparisons, * worse nor that. For Liz loves Tim, an' if I smash him I'll be hurtin' her too, an' that'd be orful. Where should I be then? L'z'd hate me.' A fierce battle raged beneath the fur waistcoat for about a minute, and thpn, to the intense astonishment of his friends grouped together beyond the gate, Geordie actually raised his hand and knocked afc th door with his knuckles ! The laughter and the voices within reased, a heavy step trod across the floor, the door was thrown open and revealed Tan Snacker. 1 Thous'f cum then V he remarked, taking off his ooat without any further preliminary. He had expected the visit, of course, and the group of men outside at once indicated George's » intentions. ' Ay, I've cum,' Geordie replied sadly. ' Well, I'm ready for theo,' said Tim, divesting himself of his waistcoat and letting go his braces. 'Nay. Tim, nay,' Geordie began, ' put on thy coat again, lad ; I can't fight, thee to-day.' ' Fi-art 1 ( nsked Tim, with a sneer. Geordie's fingers clenched hard and the blood rushed to his face till the veins in his forehead looked like cord". 1 Feart Vhe shouted. ' Thow knows I be none feart, curse ye for a ,' but there he stopped, gained the masterj over himself once more, and continued in the same quiet tone in which ho bad begun. 'I can't fight thee, Tim, while her's alive, I can't indeed.' Tim was nonplussed and puzzled. The man's calm refusal baffled him. He scratched his head in doubt as to what would be expected of him under such extraordinary circumstances. What had Geordie came across the Heath far, and brought his mates with him too, if not to have it out in the regular and recognised fashion ? ' I'll tight thee with no end o' pleasure.' he urged, feeling he was playing a very poor part indeed. ' No, Tim, no,' Geordie continued ; ' I've said it, and I'll stick to it. Not while her's alive.' He breathed hard for a few seconds, and then, turning full upon Snacker, while a kind of glow spread over his homely features, urged him to be kind to Liz and treat her well. 'She's worth it, Tim. Mebbe she might have said sooner she would rather have you nor me — but, there, T ought to 'a seen ihat myself, fool as T was — an' if she's happy with yon Tim, I'll try an' be main glad, an' — an' ' — then with a burst, ' shake hands o'er it lad.' And with that the strange fellow put out his hand and Tim, still puzzled, half angry, half ashamed, altogether misdoubting whether he heard and saw aright, took hold of the outstretched hand and shook it, or, rather, let his be shaken by Geordip. The latter then turned away, passed quickly by the group of astonished me.n outside, and struck off across the Heath with fierce strides. They would have followed him. but he waved thpm back with such vehement and unmistakeable gestures, that they thought it would be the kindest (and wisest) thing to let him be. On and on Geordie walked, till the Heath began to slope gradually down to lower grounds, and the heather and whin bushes g^ive place to close clipped hedges, trim fields, and country lanes. On and on, by farm and cottage, stream and mill, woods and pastures, till the smoky cloud, ever hanging over Blacktown, had disappeared beyond the hazy horizon.; on and on he strode, while the perspiration oozsd from every pore, walking as if for a wager, till, from very weariness, he had to rest, and cast himself down on a heap of broken stones lying by the roadside at the summit of a small hill. His fierce and rapid walk and the many new objects he met with during its progress had distracted his thought somewhat from his bitter trouble. But now that the excitement of motion was passed, it came upon him with redoubled force as be sat upon the heap of stones in that lovely lane. His facs was set towards the direction in which Castor Heath lay. He thought it all out, the happiness he had so nenrly grasped ; the horre that might have been so dear; the joyful hard work he had looked forward to, the building of the tiny nest in Milton Row. He leaned back upon the stones and gazed up into the leaden sky, trying bravely to fight the trouble down. 'It's hard,' he muttered, 'it's terrible hard. An' I loved her true an' fair, an* would a' loved her true an' fair to the end.' The south wind had chilled the damp looking clouds till they began to
descend in myriads of tiny refreshing drops, and in a short while the whole country side was penetrated by the fine rain. But the solitary figure si: ting on that stony mound, with bowed head and listless hands, neither noticed nor felt. it. • I loved her fair an* true an' would 'a loved her fair an' true to the end,' was the refrain of his thoughts. ' But then,' still trying to shield L ; z from any blame, ' perhaps it's best as it is. She might have married me first an' hated me after. But it's terrible hard, an' I loved her fair. Lord knows I did.' As he sat, something cold and damp was pushed against his left hand, and looking down he saw that a wretched little rough-haired terrier pup had crept up to him and was licking his palm. Apparently. a serious attempt had been made to despatch puppy to the shadowy land for one end of a piece of cord was tied tightly round his neck while at the other end was a loop highly suggestive of a atone or brickbat. 4 Poor beast,' muttered Geordie as he ' cut the the cord and patted the miserable little brute kindly on the back ; but puppy was 100 exhausted to show his gratitude just then, br-yond a little feeble licking of the hand that had severed the cord, after which he curled himself close up against his rescuer's big legs. Hour followed hour, till the dim twilight came, and at last Geordie realised that he had still to reach home — what was his home now I—and1 — and he was many miles from Castor Heath, in an unknown country, and with night approaching. How long he had sat by the roadside ho never knew, but he reached Milton Row Jong after midnight, by which time the crimson scarf was a stained rag ; the well-polished boots washed white at the toes by the wet grass ; and the fur waistcoat a sop of matted hair. And as he had trudged along, the ruugh-coated terrier pup had trotted close to his heels, followed him upstairs, and slept on the chair by his bedhead. (To be continued.)
