ON THE HILL TRAIL.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVIII, Issue 49, 27 February 1937, Page 7 (Supplement)

ON THE HILL TRAIL.

By AGNES L. WINSKILL,

THEY galloped in from their afternoon's ride long after the sun had gone down, and without even the customary pause to unsaddle the horses and turn them loose in the pasture, all four young guests of the farm raced up the path and into the kitchen. "Gold!" cried Vivian, with intent to surprise. "Aunt Jess, we've found gold on the hill trail!" Stout, kindly-faced Jessica Mormon turned from the glowing range and faced the shining faces of the young holidaymakers—Vivian, her two brothers and Erica, her friend. But the older boy, Will, held the trump card. His arm swung u p suddenly and the woman's eves were drawn to a handful of gold nuggets that rested in the outstretched palm, "(■old. Aunt Jess " He laughed at her expression, and kissed her with boyish roughness. "Oh, it's real enough. And now we'll all be rich forever!" "Hallo! What's this 1 hear?" "Uncle!" The boys and girl= wheeled at the voice, and began explanations in the one breath. Thev had been up the hill trail—past old Jack's shack—to view the sunset from the peak. To shorten the distance they had left the trail and cut through the 1 usli, and about half a mile up had come across an old tumbledown hut. "Simply falling to piece-i, uncle," Vivian declared. "The floorboards rotting—" "And underneath," continued young Gregory, "gold—bags of gold!" "We didn't bring any, sir"— Will's eyes were smiling—"savr a handful, in case you didn't believe lis." But the girls, he added, had torn their handkerchiefs into «tripi ami tied them to the bushes ~s a £ii'de to the track back. "To-morrow, then," Jim Mormon promised to accompany them, when he had examined the nuggets and found them not wanting. But his life's experience mado him add the warning. "But don't -xpect too much. One never can tell!" One never can tell. To the youthful four the words were ridiculous, and to all of them sleep came hard that night. They were lo«t. There was l'ttle doubt about it now, ai.d even Vivian's natural optimism began to give way to misgiv ngs. But what a disappointment! Another 'lay— the fifth- and still the treasure hut was not found. Tt was ready the strangest thing that could have 'laprencd. Not any one of them had ever imagined the possibility of their being unable to locate the strips of material that were to guide them back to their find. ,

Will must have read the girl's thoughts, for he said soberly, "We shall have to give up the hunt, I tliink. And goodness knows when we shall find the trail!" He looked up at the sky, which was heing swiftly hidden by grey, threatening rainclouds. There vas a dreary silence in the bush, perhaps accentuated by their own depression, and a sudden chilly breeze rushing by them set the fern and other foli age whispering uneasily about their ears. Erica shivered, her silk shirt blouse unexpectedly icy a/ims* her skin. "Ugh! We'll freeze if we stay here much longer! Surely we can remember a landmark somewhere." "There are not too many landmarks." Will answered ruefully. "Anyway, every tree and bush look alike to me, if uncle has got a name for each of them." As he spoke. Gregory uttered a sudden cry and they turned in his direction to see him sliding down from the saddle excitedly. "I say! Look here! Isn't this where we turned? These stones here—" Memory returned in a flash. "Yes!' cried Vivian. She urged her mount forward by applied pressure with her heels, and, in the act of obeying, the animal unaccountably stumbled, and tossed the unwary Vivian over his head, firegory. clutching lightly the dangling reins of his own horse, felt them suddenly snatched from his grasp, and there was a ; sharp but heedless warning from Will. "Look out! The horses are bolting!" With a crash as they broke through, the foliatre, the animals were gone, and the echo of the ineffectual cries of "Whoa. Star! Whoa. Prince!" floated back to the four companions. "Well!" said Erica, breaking the ensuing silence, and then became aware that Vivian, unusually pale, was standing unsteadily, one foot but lightly touching the ground. "Vivian—" "It's all right. Twisted my ankle. T think. I'll be O.K. in a moment." She tried to walk, to succeed only in hobbling a few painful steps. "You go on. I 11 wait here for you." "If you please, miss"—it was \A ill. teasing but authoritative, a privilege of his seniority—"you'll do no such thing. We're going home." There was a protest from the three, hut consideration told them W ill's decision was wise. Here they were, lost—although a little surer of their bearings now—with a heavy storm that thunder and black clouds not *o far avrav, two of the horses gone, and Vivian, her face deathly white and her lips compressed, as Will's practised scout fingers ran over the injured ankle. "A bad sprain," was his verdict, and after bandaging the foot with hi= own large handkerchief, aided his

sister to mount with some difficulty behind Erica. Greg jumped up behind Will, and they were on their way, each memorising features along the way, until at last they found themselves again on the hill trail. In the vicinity of old Jake's shack there was a stirring of the bushes, and careless of the rain that was now falling ceaselessly the old man stepped into their path. "Howdy, m' lassies and lads," he greeted them, shouting above the steady hiss of the downpour. "What brings ye so much on the hill trail? I've heard merry voices pass near a week now." Eager to confide their disappointment, Will reined in and shouted in answer, "It's gold!" and told briefly of the finding of the deserted hut and the experiences of the day since. The while old Jake stood silent, nodding hi»j head slowly. "Aye," he said. "I reckon I know it." Mysteriously he beckoned them to follow him to the shelter of his shack, and when they had done so repeated, "Aye, I reckon it's Honi's hut ve've found. Rut ye be better away from it. It be cursed—tapu!" "Tapu!" The cry came from four throats, and Jake nodded again, and offered to tell them the story. Honi, a Maori prospector, hail, it appeared, in New Zealand's younger and wilder days, been lucky in striking a large amount of gold a little further south. But after the find life lost its peace for Honi. and lie carried always a hidden knife and gun. Then, at last, he planned to journey northwards, where his fame was le<s. and. too, wher" iie could dispose of his hoard more easily, and so. by careful burying of his packs and their contents by day, and swift '.ravelling by night, he managed to push on into the vicinity of the present Mormon holding. There, however, he found his name had flown before him. He was forced to flee for his life into the bush towards the [ieak. and notwithstanding many diligent searches he was never seen again. Years later a wandering prospector stumbled on a rough hut in the midst of dense bush and receiving no answer to his call entered the hut. He found hags of nugget gold under a loose flooring hoard, and returning to his packhorse prepared to ride back to civilisation. Rut the horse took fright— perhaps at the sudden flutter of a bird from bush to bush, and the rider, though thrown from the saddle, could not extricate his foot from the stirrup, and. helpless, was dragged as far as the Mormon farm. There the horse was stopped, and the prospector able to whisper his story before deAth came from the results of his ordeal. He was but the forerunner of many others who claimed to have found the famous Honi's "old. but that the vengeful ghost of Honi him=elf guarded it, swiftly became the rumour, because of the misfortunes that invariably overcame the discoverers. Manv who expressed their intention to search mysteriously disappeared. and whether or not tliey succeeded in their quest was never known. There

were those who returned with declarations of euceese and set off again with companions to claim their find; and there were those of them who came back once more; with bewildering tale* of having lost the track, regardless of all manner of signs intended to guide; and another percentage who followed others before them and came back not at all. "Aye," concluded old Jake. "Old Honi guards hie gold well. Ye be wise to keep clear of it." The four laughed scoflingly, but not very convincingly. "Well," laughed Will shakily, "at least, we have a souvenir—a pouch of hi* nuggets." He thrust his hand into the pocket where he had placed the pouch with great care and then uttered an exclamation of surprise. It was gone! "Nay!" said old Jake, with a strange twist to his lips as he shook his head wisely. "I thought not. Old Honi lets no one keep one nugget from his bags." The ride home was a silent one, for each boy and girl was thinking. Old Jake's tale had illustrated the power of gold over man; souls had been purged for less, and no doubt, (hov themselves would he as well without it. It was a bedraggled company that reached the farm, and suddenly Gregory's voice interrupted the fascinating thoughts of Maori tapu and the missing pouch. "Look!" They looked, their glance following the pointing hahd. Outside (lie paddock gate, peaceful and waiting patiently, Star and Prince nibbled the fresh, rain-sweet grass. The rains continued for all that night and the day following, and loosened the earth so that there was a landslide near the peak. Whether the fall had buried forever 'loni's hut and gold will never he known, but suffice to say that, although the four—but human, after all—continued the search for the remaining four weeks of their holiday, they left the farm for their city homes'with only a memory of the circumstances tliaf had changed them, with a maglcian's wand, into seekers after gold.