"DARK DAWN."

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 96, 24 April 1931, Page 14 (Supplement)

"DARK DAWN."

(By Joan Barley, 20, Athelstan Road, Camberwell E.tj, Victoria, Australia.) It is just a simple little story about a boy named Percy aiul his sister, Marcia. The children lived with their mother and father on the borders of a lonely land, inhabited, at times, by savage Indians. The house, which was miles away from any sign of human habitation, was in no actual danger itself as the Indians had been badly frightened at a previous attack. Their chief pronounced the house to be the haunt of evil spirits, or "debbil-debbils," and refrained from a repetition of that encounter. Von must not think the children were lonely, for they played well together, and each was the proud possessor of a lovely horse —Marcia's a gentle chestnut and Percy's a flashing coal-black. Now at the time of my story, the children's father was away on business, leaving mother and children alone. Though this was not common, they were not afraid, and carried on as if he was amongst them. Late one afternoon a missionary stopped at the house to rest before crossing the "bad lands." "I wish father was here," sighed Marcia regretfully as they watched him canter away. "How he would have loved a chat with hijn." Percy was lingering the bridle of his horse, which was stepping the ground impatiently. "Come, Marcia," he saiu, "Dark Dawn seems restless. You and I will take him to the stables and brush him down." The children were called from this absorbing task by mother's voice, which Percy fancied had an anxious ring in it. "Yes, mother!" they chorused as they hurried up. "Oh! children," she cried, "I can hear the war-cries of the Indians. They are in the hills, and will be in the 'bad lands' before long. That poor missionary; oh, that poor missionary!" "You want me to warn him, mother," said Percy quietly. "I shall saddle Dark Dawn." A look of mutual understanding passed between mother and son. Not live minutes later Dark Dawn was plunging at top speed through the "bad lands" in hot pursuit of the missionary who was riding unconsciously into the very jaws of death. A little later Marcia wandered alone in the garden of the house, gazing up at the evening sky, which was rapidly becoming studded with stars. As .she looked up again, she saw a shooting star which left a long, feathery trail behind it. "A soul gone home," she murmured. "Father said so." As Marcia uttered these words, a pallor crept over her face. "Oh, <!od! Oh, Percy," she cried brokenly.