ABOVE WORRY LEVEL

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21245, 27 July 1932, Page 19

ABOVE WORRY LEVEL

BY J. B. THOMSON" / /

It was about two years prior to his momentous vocal eruption that Mr. .^j exa ndijr Crighton became convinced that ],o was at grips witJl tho P r °hlem of a shiftless second son. Tile majority of his neighbours, hardojjiing New Zealand farmers, were with him iD s P irit " ° nly the youn S or folk understood and appreciated Jimmy Crighton. Jimmy certainly took more interest in trdut stream than in a choico flock of fat lambs. He was more at homo with ither tho settlement's cricket bats { C han with a spade or ploughshare. And, "nstead of showing any concern for tho welfgr o " 10 s ' iec T station's most cherished pastures, ho had formed tho "habit of paying/ overmuch attention to {he wild, apparently futile loveliness of t j, a mountain, lake, aritj forest country which constituted tho far-off western boundary of his father's property. Thero n-cre fishing and shooting out there, and—well never mind about that just now. In tlio good, old pre-depression days Jimmy's seeming inability to make 'muscular energy synchronise with farm <jutv had little or no embarrassing influence on thp Crighton bank balance. But noiv that the slump was doing its best-to wipe farmers off the face of the I far th, conditions were different. Mr. Brighton eliminated a couplo of shepherds from the pay roll, brought a younger son home from college, and for some time had be>?n trying to overcome his wife's objection to tho dismissal of . Betty Picker--7 ing, tho pretty little English governess. Come to think of it, there was somo justification for Mr. Crighton's idea that "son James was not doing his bit on the station. The squatter made an un- ' forlunalo mistake, however, when, in the presence of the whole family, he allowed an ant:i-Jimmy testines3 to swell to explosion point. The pother came one fine December evening shortly after the first wool sale of the season. Time: Twilight. Scene: The broad verandah of the station homestead. " if we can't, sell the rest of our clip at a civilised jfirice, we're right in tho middle of Queeir Street," remarked tho crisply bearded paterfamilias, commenting on a market that bade fair to prove fertile only for the growth of grey hairs. * Bless my soul, what with giving wool away, high wages, losses in stock, and — and " /u Tired sons," suggested Bob, tho son and heir, and, with his father, co-critic of Jimmy's slackness. " One tired son, at any rate," finished Mr. Crighton. " Yes, by gosh, that's right." ' 1 ■ Jimmy, who had been engaged in an unobtrusive tete-a-tete with Betty Pickering in the darkest corner of the verandah, felt that the family circle would be so much the brighter for some remark from him. 1 / " Cheer up, Guv'nor," he said. " Don't forget tho old silver lining, the primrose path, prosperity round the corner, and all that sort of thing. Why, it'll be all the same in a hundred years' time, and what's a. hundred years between frieiidii and relatives. A mere " It was precisely at this moment that Mr. Crighton gave vituperative tongue. "By Hokey! Of all the impertinent, rattle-brained cubs," lie roared. " Here y6u are, doing your darndest to ruin me, loaf—" r " Alec, calm yourself. Please remember Jimmy is cur son," put in Mrs. Crighton. "Son? Bah! A son of sorts perhaps. But what a sample! What a Crighton! Not a semblance of a brain in his head. Look at hiisa. Had to take -him away from school ' because he couldn't or wouldn't get boyond a second year form. They sent him home from the office of the Farmers' Stock Agency because he didn'i know the difference between a mortgage and a mangel And when I try to teach him sheep rearing he just ups and awav to hide in the bush—useless wasto/ land which nobody but a lunatic or a poet ever wants to set eyes on. Son? Son be !" " Hard words, Guv'nor Hard words," said Jimmy. /" You'll be. sorry for this when I go away for ever and come back and dump a sack of specie on the door»tep." It was fully two minutes before anybody thought of interrupting Mr. Crighton. i Jimmy rose' to his feet. " I gather that nobody loves me," he >raid in a sad voice. *' Well, folks, I'll be trotting off to my little grey home in tho west." Only Betty Pickering followed the young man into the house. " There goes somebody who seems silly enough to love him," snapped Bob. "Ha. D'ye think so?" growled his father. "I'll/ put a stop to any loveydovey little game like that." »»»•♦* " Well, Picksie, what did you think of that for a passable imitation of a family dust-up?" asked Jimmy, as he turned to speak to Bettv before entering the room which he usually occupied when nt home. *'/! it hadn't been for my tang froid, mv aplomb " " Oh, Jimmy, it was simply awful, > answered the' girl tearfully. " I didp t think your father could he so horrid. " Horrid ? The Guv'nor horrid ? Not a bit of it. He's worried That's worse. By Jove, I thought he was going to tear me apart to see how I worked." Miss Pickering's sense of humour came to her rescue. " According to his own reasoning I flon't think there would be any need foi/ him to do that, she said .with a roguish little smile. " Meaning, young woman ?" " Well, Jimmy, do you really know ;w]iat work is?" " My dear Picksie, you make roe feel tho very personification of that cove called Misunderstood. Kindly let me explain. I'rn the mystery man of the mountains. You must admit that it s pretty hard work living up to a reputation like that." "Jimmy, dear, won't you try to be serious for once in a while ? R —remember what passed between us when wo were riding home that day from Lake Trent. " All," said young Crighton, his attractive sun-tanned face softened by a tender smile. " That evening when wo rode homewards together out of the sunset and you looking so happy, so desirablo, and me swearing loyalty, fealty, fidelity, and you locfkinc as if you welcomed same. The very evening, in short, when .vou all but promised to jump into double harness and. trot along life's highway by my Ride. Why, yes, Picksie, I remember all that. Yes. Tdo " "Well theri, Jimmy, you must realise that I care for you very much or else I would not have allowed"' you to say all you did. I think I shall always feel the same about you, but somehow I would ffel easier if you settled down and and—" "Did some work You couldn't put it any better than that if you were the League of Nations' champion diplomat. •Xattla one, "we're above worry level in feewjparts, and I invite jou to 50 on be- (

v A NEW ZEALAND STORY

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ing the brightest ray of sunshine in the Crighton household. Some day, you littfo thoroughbred, I'll bo wanting your radiance all to myself. Now, you run along, Picksie, and let me get ready for the road." "Where are you goings Jimmy? Is it to that lonely camp of yours at Lake Trent? " " It is. The good God blessed that paradise and it'll do me. Will you meet mo in half an hour's time at the outer gate of the home paddock?" " Very well, you loafing, star-gazing—" the girl's gently mocking remarks died away on a note of quiet laughter. • ••*•» It was about an hour and a-half later that Betty Pickering saw the figure of the young horseman disappear over a moonlit ridge. Slowly she walked back to tho homestead from the paddock gate. Her last moments with. Jimmy had so completely obliterated all recollection of the unpleasant incident which had occurred earlier in the evening, that sho was quite unprepared for what lay iu store for her. " Miss Pickering." She was passing through .tho big dininj:; room on her way to her bedroom, when she was pulled up by tho voice of Mr. Crighton, which had emanated from tho depths of a favourite armchair. Apparent ly everybody but tho squatter had trailed off to bed Yes, Mr. Crighton ? " sho answered in a wondering tone. » Ah—cr—you heard something of what was said on the verandah this ovening? " M:r. Crighton rose to his feet. Repressing an inclination to smile at the thought that tho men out in tho shepherds hut must havo heard something too, sho nodded. "The fact is. Miss Pickering, that wo sheepfarmors have been very badly hit by tho slump, and most of us have to retrench. You will havo noticed perhaps that I myself have brought young Billy home from school, and have also had to dismiss two of the men. My dear gtrl, I—l'm afraid I'll havo to go still further. Ei:_do you think you havo any prospects of finding other employment ?" _ There was no mistaking the meaning of Mr. Crighton's words. Sho was fired, sacked, cast out. A little gasp of dismay was tho only indication given by Betty that her mind had been suddenly plunged into a whirlpool of apprehension. Only too well she knew how difficult it had been to secure this situation. Noticing that her silence was causing Mr. Crighton soirno discomfort, she smiled bravely and said: "I—l'm sure I\ shall get along quite nicely, + liank you. When do vou want mo to go ? " "I was thinking of offering you a week's notice, but if you would prefer a month—" " A week will do very well, I tlnnk. " Vorv well, then. I am sorry to havo to do this, Miss Pickering, but in view of the economic depression —" Some hours later she found herself wondering how, under circumstances which to her rather sensitive nature were emharrassing, she was going to remain in the Crighton home till tho termination of her engagement. It would be fine if she could disappear there and then. She could take u few things with her and send for the rest of her belongings and her cheque when she got settled somewhere. She would havo no difficulty in catching and saddling old Dulcie, the white mare she had ridden to Lake Trent, when she went thero nearly a year ago with Jimmy. Then she could ride the ten miles to the railway station and leave the old horse there for one of the youngsters to. take home. Quietly and swiftly sho slipped out of bed and commenced her preparations, for the flitting. Fortunately Dulcie lived up to her reputation for being tractable, and it was enly when Betty was actually mounted that the old mare showed anv signs of having a mind of her own. Try as she might, the girl was unable to make the animal move in the direction of the rough road that ltd down to the station. ) Clearly, Dulcie—probably for some gastronomic reason best known to herself—wished to proceed toward the ga es that opened out on the vast expanse of the Crighton Hill country, which ended many miles away in the picturesque region in the vicinity of Lake Trent and the bush-lined M'Clur# River. " Good gracious," thought Betty, " the old thing Jieems bent on taking mo to Lake Trent. Perhaps after all ... I wonder. ... I would like to see Jimmy and alk this matter over with him. . . Scandal ? . , . Well, it would bo daylight by the time I got there. . . . We're above worry level here, anyhow. Jimmy says so. Once more tho gates of the home paddock were opeined to let a horse and its rider pass through. Under normal conditions Mr. Crigliton had an enviable capacity for the enjoyment of breakfast. However, on the morning of the tirade against Jimmy and the dismissal of Betty there came two announcements which had the effect of robbing his meal of its accustomed flavour. " Alec," said Mrs. Crighton before her lord and master had disposed of his porridge. " I'm afraid Betty Pickering has gone. Whatever did you say to her last night?" "Gone? Nonsense, woman, answered Mr. Crighton sharply. " I gave her a week's notice—offered her a month fact. Whai do you mean by ' gone ' ?" " She has disappeared " " Hum-m-m-m." Mr. Crighton gave his porridge a suspicious look, as though it were a witch's brew and possibly responsible for some malevolence. He pushed the plate aside and glanced expectantly at the chops. He was toying with a chop when Bob walked in and remarked in a casual tone, " Dulcie's gone." " By Hokov," cried Mr. Crighton, rising to his feet. " What on earth is this epidemic of going and disappearing all about ? Nobody has any right to go or disappear without my permission.' Mr. Crighton was half way through a pipe that was meant to be comforting when- Bob re urned with the news that he had traced Dulcie's hoof marks at the gate which opened out on to the western pastures. " It looks as though the girl has ridden out to Lake Trent," he added. " Yes, that's just what sho will have done," snapped Mr. Crighton. " Sho has rushed off to that useless peripatetic son of mine. A bright pair. ' Pon my Uncle Willie, if we don't separate 'em or get 'em chaperoned or some darned silly thing before nightfall there'll be the deuce to pay, not to say much libellous chin-wag-ging and gossipy cackling. Bob, it's years sinco either of us has had time to ride out to that wilderness, but this morning we're off just as soon as we can get ready and saddle up." Rippling under a light breeze and gleaming beneath the rays of the summer sun, the snow-fed sheet of wn'er presented a sparkling picture —in effect that of a great blue liquid jewel shimmering in a sotting of evergreen foliage. At the southern end of the dancing waters the M'Clure River leaped out of the mother volume and began its swirling, rolling course down tho bush-clad valley toward the bigger but less brilliant stream which lured tourist traffic over toward tho West Coast. But this refreshing panorama, fascinating as it would have been to any wanderiijrr aesthete, was lost upon the jpatter-of-fact Crighlons. Not that their first glimpse of the scene below had loft them cold and disinterested. Far fiom it. It was simply that the interest stimulated in them sprang from the shock of amazement rathci' than from rapturous appreciation. Spread out before them was a spectacle which represented something between a Public Works Department camp and tho happy hunting grounds of a more or less permanent picnic party. A patch of sciub had been cleared away for some distance from the southern 6horo of tho lake, and

on this space a picturesque canvas township had sprung up. There were tents of air descriptions, ranging from fairly solid structures, reinforced with timber, to the flimsy, gaily coloured shelters such as touring mo orists often carry with them. Quite a number of people—men, women and children—were wandering about the clearing in a delightfully care-free manner, pausing now and then to converse with friends or acquaintances. As the Crigh tons gazed down from the hillside a motor car pulled out from, under a clump of bush and bumped .away down a new rough and ready track that skirted the M'Clure. A couple of rowing boats and a canoe were idling on tho lake, while a few people ih bathing costume were expressing vociferously their enjoyment of a dip "°nr tho water's edgo. The whole prosper., : nrlnpd, was utterly and joyously UI opi in. The gradual return of Mr. (Jngnton's eyes to a natural position 'in their sockets and tho spasmodic workings of his lower jaw indicated that the squatter was regaining control of his organs. " This—all this—on my land," he gasped. " Bob, boy, ride away for stockwhips, rifles, machine-guns—any lethal weapons calculated to annihilate trespassers and clean up the countryside. What is it? Who are they?" " Perhaps we had better go down and find out," came the obvious suggestion. Fighting down an urge to charge the fust man he saw and wring from him by bluster a full explanation of what ho regarded as a disturbing phenomenon, Mr. Crigliton, followed closely by Bob, stalked toward a big central structure which appeared to bo some kind of a headquarters establishment. Headquarters resolved itself into a dining hall, and tho man who stood on tho doorstep and whose generous front elevation was covered with a white apron had all tho characteristics of a cook. " Here, you," bellowed Mr. Crighton, unable to restrain himself a moment longer. " Are you running this gipsies-in-the-wood turn-out? If so, pack up and get." , Tho cook glanced calirly at the two men, sniffed, and slowly began to roll u cigarette. ' " This happens to be a respectable motor camp," ho said at last, " and wo don't want no swaggers nor tramps about." Tho oarth seemed to tremble under Mr. Brighton's impromptu war dance. " What aro you talking about, man ?" ho bawled. "Don't you know me? Why, confound it, I own every inch of this land you're on, and I have the power to sweep the %vholo pack of you into the lake." " Ah, then you'll be Jimmy Crighton's old m— father," replied the cook in a more respectful tone. " Sorry, boss. Pleased to meet ye. Ye see. next to Jimmy—Jim—Mr. Jim, that is, I'm in command here, and I've got to run the show efficient like." " I might have known that good-for-nothing would bo at the bottom of this tomfoolery. What's it all about, hey ?" " Well, 1 reckon this ,is about the world's champeen rest home—a sort o' browsin' ground for tired townies and 'tinerant tourists." " I see. I'm beginning to get tho hang of this thing. At first I thought it was a travelling lunatic asylum. And so my son James is the chiof perpetrator?" •' Yes, sir, he's the great whatiam round about here. He's turned the place-into the finest money-maker that ever happened since Adam and Eve bust up the free-for-all system. Says he to me shortly bofore we swung into action, ' Fatty, old horse, this'll make the Guv'nor —meanin' you, that is—take v a tumble' to tho fact that there's more ways of gatherin' in a few quid than robbin' sheep of their wool. Now bring on the economic depression! " ' We'll have things goin' fino and dandy by Christmas.' he adds in words to that effect, ' and then we'll spring the big surprise •on to the folks over at home. Not a word in the meantime, Fatty. An" we'll advertise only in papers that don't come up this way. The Guv' has no faith in me or in this sort of country, an' if ho finds out wot's goin' on before we've something to show him he'll be a moral to kick over the traces. By gosh, if tho dear old—if the Guv'nor behaves himself 111 make him a partner.' " " Yes, yes, that is indeed kind of him," interrupted Mr. Crighton, sarcastically, " but that young man has hardly had two coppers to rub together since ho came back from town. I personally havo attended to that.' As second in command, perhaps you will be able to inform me where ho procured the money for tho original outlay." ■ " Why, ho got the manager of the Farmers' Stock Agency on his side. George McCrornbie knows a good thing when he sees it, you bet.. We vo been cartin' gear up the McClure Valley all spring, an' only wild pigs an' rabbits to see us." " Yes, but why " " Now, now, Mr. Crighton, ye'll have to excuse me," put in tho cook firmly but politely. " Dooly in the shape of a hig, juicy, dinner roast calls me, and I must go. If you want to find out any more about the works Jim 11 bo glad to enlighten ye. If ye like I'll call him in." "Do so at once." " Right. They're out on tho lake." _ « They—" Mr. Crighton was beginning, but tho cook, with Bob at his heels, was already well on tho way to the lakeshore. At this etago it is necessary to hear only what tho second in command had to say. 11 " See that boat over there near tho trees?" said he. No, no, over to the left. . . Not them craft on the steep side. Ono of 'em has an English lord on board. . . Yeh, them furthest away. . . Yeh, it does look a bit like one person. But it ain't. . . I seen 'em go out, him and tho gel . . . all happy and spoonylike. . . Eh ? Call 'em in ? . . . toot sweet. . . No! righto Mr. "Crighton ! It does seem a pity to. disturb them. . .