TALES OF THE WILDERNESS.

Auckland Star, Volume XLII, Issue 104, 3 May 1911, Page 8

TALES OF THE WILDERNESS.

(All Eights Reserved.)

CHRISTOPT3ER OF TITB TOR©.

{BY WILL LAWSON.)

11. Jke river sang and swirled along the looao iiiiugle llmt was iv bed; ou either side stretched Between the water and the grass paddocks was more shingle, dry and gleaming white in the bright Bmujj.-iit, and in the middle of the iord vLtiu was a bank of shingle that split the river into two streams. For many years this iord had existed, though it h;id never been a very safe one, but wmlfc men and horses and coaches and waggons may flounder through rivers, and maybe drown in the crossing, the locomotive must have a safe and level road. The railway was coming; it Would cross the river at the ford and so there must be a bridge. For months great waggons had been hauling the timber and iron for the strong piles and trusses, and men had been driving piles in the heart of the river-bed}. When the heavy timber first thwarted the river's career it rose in fury and tore at the piles' foundations, but thay were sunk beyond the river's reach, and pier after pier was set up across its wide bed, till the bridge began to take shape. In the summer afternoon the men were working at their gigantic task, and across the shingle of the dry portion of the river-bed another worker tramped to and fro, helping them. This was the ferry horse, Christopher of the Ford, an immrnsely p"owerful draught horse, stn u& ig over eighteen hands high. He was narnessed to a light two-wheeled vehicle of somewhat strange pattern. The ■wheels were very large, and the high springs supported the platform from ■which the shafts projected, and on which was erected the driver's seat. This cart was the "ferry" which could cross the river when other vehicles of lower build would have been swept away and cap-

Bized. The great wooden beams for the bridge were iashed one at a time by a chain at one end to the axle of the cart, and great Christopher dragged them through thfi shallow waters of the lord and across the river-bed to the place where the workmen desired them to be. The river wa3 low, and the water not ■very cold, so Christopher found the task , a pleasnnt one, for there was no hurry; no whip ever touched his glossy chestnut hide—between him and his driver existed such a perfect understanding. Once a day, the coach, with its four staunch horses, came to the ford. The passengers changed from the coach to the ferry, some sitting on the seat by the driver, the rest standing ■on tha floor that was merely a platform, cud holding on to the back of the seat. Then, while the «oarh, weight of mails and luggage, lurched and splashed across, Christopher hauled liis living load from bank to bank. In addition to these regular trips, there were numerous occasional travellers on foot or on Viioyek's who desired to be ferried across. Tiig Christopher carried them all. Summe' , and autumn passed;" winter came, un ' -"ue nridge -was still unfinished. The wn!;>r of the river was cold, bitterly cold. It was like knives in Christopher's legs when he tramped through with fhe ferry." T3ut long usage had - aceustomrl him to it, and beyond a snort of protest each time he entered the river, ho made no sign. On a day towards the end of the winter when there had been a spell of warm, rainy weather, the water began to rise beyond the level it usually reached when there was a fresh in the river. The coach had a rough passage over the ford, and the water was well over the axle of the ferry when Christopher took the passengers across. Ho heard the warning note iv the river's voice as it swirled round the bridgepiles and stirred the loose shingle. ' It was a good night for Christopher to be in his stable, so- the river told him. And it certainly was comfortable to be shut in from the weather, to be rubbed down and fed by his friend who drove him, and to hear the rain pattering on the iron roof.

After putting his horse away,: the driver went to his own adjoining lamp-lighted room, where a fire was burning Theirs was the only habitation on that side of the ford. Through the wall Christopher could hear him getting his evening meal, and afterwards the creak of the bunk told that the man was going to bed. Christopher, lying down in his roomy stall, slept too, but only fitfully, for rheumatic pains in his strong legs prevented him sleeping much. Years' of ice-cold river-water were beginning to chill his blood and make him older than his years. Some time in the middle of the night, the telephone in the driver's room rang shrilly. The man awoke and was wide awake on the instant, and he heard the thudding of Christopher's hoofs on the earth floor of his stable as the big horse rose to his feet. As he took the re« ceiver the driver's eyes were on a level with a printed paper pinned to the wall of the room. In this notice were contained the rules and charges of the ferry, and the last sentence read: "And the ferryman shall at all times be considered to be the best judge as to the condition of the ford, and bis decision shall be final." Through the transmitter the man was Baying: "No, thfe river can't be crossed to-night. A moon? Yes, but the clouds hide her and the river's running lull." There was a long pause, during which thu voice at the other end, ten miles away, said something that made the ferryman's eyes soften a little while he chewed his moustache. At last he said: Well, come on and we'll try." Then he went to Christopher's stall, carrying a lantern. The rain had stopped, and the night was not quite dark by reason of the cloud-hidden moon. A keen wj nd blew off nearby v-ni istopher swung round to the stabledonr when he hoard his driver's footstop, to show that he was readr. SwingZIm PCn ; e r£ OOr the man entered the and v,',hs n 1 , Chribt °P he '- nickered softly the, ™\\ d la mu2zle w the slee ™ of the arm that was feared up to put hi a tW two 7 Were Very old friend3 > aW a °" lethin ? ] *ss than an hour's time Mm,* , stTa 'Sht white road came tho So. Itk v ? a "' r of fa st-troning horsen. nrifH. g ° f a b, W shone, coming. len • With Uvo bri S ut a^tv Thn !■ yard into ti" s roadway. ' |l i«4s4°- B -^ met '" the ferryman

'•These," the driver answered; then to the passenger, "Can you climb up, ma'am? I'll hand you up the child," "A woman and child!" the ferryman exclaimed in protest. "Yes, yes," she said breathlessly, aa she reached his side; "don't say we can'i> g°" The driver of Christopher shook his head. "I'm saying nothing. We'll leave that to the river. But you know the risk you're running?" "Nothing matters," the woman said, "except to get across." Then Christopher, as though he had lieen listening, drew the ferry away towards the ford. The driver of the buggy walked alongside. They could hear the rumble of the river swirling the loose shingle along. The river had a lot to say, and to Christopher, who knew all the voices of the wild places it said it was good for a ferry horse to be in his stable that night. Yet because of the perfect understanding between him and the friend who drove him, the splendid horse stepped bravely into the rushing water, icecold as it was. The acetylene lamps threw a vivid light which made the river,, rippled and ridged, look like moving shingle, all grey-toned with black shadows. "Any use mc coming?" the other driver asked. "Yes, climb up behind, we want all the weight we can get to steady her, and Chris can pull us all." Up to his girths plunged Christopher of the Ford. In the powerful sweep of the stream he felt all the menace of the wilds.. Alone he would have turned in terror from the crossing. But there was that electric message in the reins, and he reached at last the comparative shallows of the shingle-island in the centre of the ford. Here he paused and snorted. Above them loomed the shadowy outline of the unfinished and useless bridge. "She'e not so bad " the other man began, but the ferryman silenced him with a nudge of his elbow.

Christopher half-turned his wise old head towards his driver, and the man was fully aware how close a call it was going to be, for he knew how Christopher was listening to the voices in the river. Then the horse went forward again, belly deep; girth deep—the water rose to the lev 'of the shafts, and lapped on the lower side of tbe floor. Through the spokes and among the springs and ixle the river burst and roared its anger at finding nothing large to seize on, till the vehicle was -thrilling as though it danced on its. wheels. The woman's eyes were fixed on the other bank of the river; she would not look at the water; only her lips moved. Christopher went slowly forward, the river foaming against hie broad chest. Suddenly the near wheel rose; a huge boulder was in its path and the ferryman' 3 hands on the reins sent a swift message that made Christopher plunge forward. The wheel rose higher, then sank swiftly into the hole that the water had scoured alongside the stone. For a brief instant the river leapt over the ferry floor. But the next moment it was on the level again, saved by the big horse's sheer strength. ' And the river seethed and revelled around them. By slow inches they fought a way across; but the worst came when the landing-place was near. The wheels sank and sank till the. water bubbled. across the floor and tbe ferry was dancing half-afloat. They were drifting down stream, but big Christopher never lost his footing. As the ferry swung round, there came an urgent message through the reins. , He put forth .every ounce of .his-strength! and, lunging and plunging, managed to reach the shallows in an almost exhausted condition. Up the roadway from the river the men led him —up to the place where another buggy waited. The woman with her child was taken and put into it, but not before she had flung an arm about old Christopher's neck and kissed his wet, untidy mane. Then the buggy whirled her away into the night, and to the sorrow or joy that might be hers at the end of the long drive. Christopher, in a strange stable, munched the oats that he had earned. There would be no return to his own quarters that night. To-day there is a railway across the river at the old ford, and twice in the twenty-four hours a mighty express engine leaps out of the distance, sweeps down to the bridge, and, blowing one short bark of warning, fliee with a whirl of swift wheels and rods across the span of river-bed where once the two-wheeled ferry plied. Tbe bridge creaks as the string of passenger-cars race after the locomotive, with clamour of wheels that dies away so quickly in the distance. But, as they pass the river-paddock by the bridge, sometimes the passengers see a huge horse feeding there, and maybe remark on his pijjantic build. That is old Christopher—Christopher of the Ford.