TO-MORROW CAME

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 223, 20 September 1938, Page 19

TO-MORROW CAME

By S. M. W. BROGDEN

SHORT STORY

IT was during the great nieh on the West Coast of New Zealand, when all men were mad and a single word swept down the mountain passes to the sea, carpeting the enow with the bones of the weak and searing a groat scar

in the memory of a general inn. The spring of 1868 sprinkled the tree ferns of the evergreen valleys with sort. dewy beauty, as a prospector stag no rod into' a clearing'- by the rapids ot the Buller. A email" man, hazard with exposure ond toughened to whipcord by the nightmare struggle a<r<»s the unmapped Southern Alps, he i-trctchcd ill the fun. A heavy licanl accentuated tlie Cockney shar'pne-s nf hi* !;><r. Shrewd eyes glinted wiiii that spirit of the gutter which bounces the Cockney iroin hard knock*. iiii(|uciicliahlc from instinct rather than from philo.-ophy. Stretching in the soft carpet of fern bracken, he ran hi* fingers over the smwll bug at his l»elt. Through the cloth, thread I i;uc with use. lie felt the smoothness of tiny nuggets and (hikes and the -rear-y s.'.ft ness of gold du-t. Twenty ouikm-. he estimated. Twenty otin-.-ps of concentrated wctilth panncl in Hi' lied of many a niountiiin stream aliove. H.- l!in»ii(>d. To think (hut for a f.« wtvkly <..|>|crs lio jjripvcllcil t.. the .-„,!, of tliat emigrant >iiip which the intire crew had jumped in J'<nt (liiiliuer: . Si\ months ago he was <i pot hoy to lie cuffed on sight. To-day lie was again in the van of that privileged horde of to-morrow's millionaires.

Api in he laughed, with that crazy, terribly sane belief in to-morrow, which is tin; religion <>f -fold miners. Fur <i moment his mind churned in a flood of memories. Riotous Chinamen in Hendigo dissolved into the lonely terror of tho storm which almost i-ap-ized lii> *hip in the T.isnian Sea. IK- was a veteran fossirker, this Cockney who begged passages between j>ol'dlields. nlways arriving too lute or v nrkiinr ;i barren clHiin. And always that dream returned to htumt him—-a ._ii::ip-c of 11 beautifully klihmml iiero. yold nu-vi'i

pill gleaming ahovo a checked -nil. driving a chestnut team down tlic Old Kent J*oad.

Idly ho flickered haunted eyes nrrn«* the rapids and hack over the ten ace-' worn by the river through lh.-in. It-low him, the bunks desci-ndcd in steps like a of ancient baitl;<mentn. Slowly, the message filterc<l tn his brein. The river, down from the mountains. curried "i>M Through lonp apes -old had been (hopped along these terraces, anion' tlu> boulders which the spray spattered.

He elutehed his pitiful and scrambled to his feet. The ajriinv of joints stiffened in strmins of melted snow and the twinjre of hiili-healed eute v£re of such long habit as to be part of living.

A short strugple through the bu.-h brought him to the water's edyo. lie eould feel the fineness of the spray misting the drops of sweat on hi» jiriii« and forehead. He cursed tl»e beard, everv soaked hair of which clung.

Filling hi* lunge with the coolness ho glanced along the lines of boulders. Ijftermirmtion came. Tlie swag was pebTiles. Pan in hand, he bent and heaved a boulder aside. The familarity of the sand and stones revealed eang in hie heart.

A handful of rubble was scraped into the pen. With the quick, easy motion of habit he dipped the pan "into the water and started swilling. Round and round it went. Squinting in the son he tipped a little sana and water into the ground. In a, few minutes trembling fingere were picking tiny grains. t* !jM?r r grain—hardly meriting the beneffiction of the word nugget—steaded iiu hrtM with the joy of fulfilment. Foot pennyweights, he guessed, as he dropped ifrinto the bag at hie waist. Convince! that this wag a lucky strike which would grubstake him on the coaet, the Cockney slaved at his task. He must pan «e much and as quickly «« possible before «lgUt, and start oil the laet lap at dawn. Late in the afternoon, the little ba" bulged with dust and grains and an occasional migget the size of a pea Shadows stretched like the fingers of age across the gorge. Dislodging a larger boulder at the edge of the lent terrace, the prospector etood petrified In the cup-like hollow lay a bed of that blue cfey which, in another continent, heralded diamonds. Gold in this clay is such a phenomenon as to be an exception proving a rule. He gazed a full minute in disbelief.

Th« hollow wae etriated as if scraped by the nails of a giant hand. In each Of the w-ores lay a row of nuggets varying in size from a thumbnail to ft pinhead. Glacial action had deposited the nuggets and contemptuously tossed a boulder to seal ite handiwork. The Cockney raised his head and laughed hysterically to the sky There in the fading blue he saw the check iuit, the nugget pin, the sparkling Chestnuts. He felt the cleanness of a freshly shaven chin. He flung his clenched fists up the gorge at" thn mountains in which every second had been a horror. He sang* a wild ditty snatched from a Bendigo bar. the inverted prayer of thankfulness from ft mind still dazed from a glimpse into time. The hoarse screams cracked. There was silence for a -nrtrnrnt. He sank to hie knees W.iftr* gold and buret into tears. *-■■«••

Hysterical nobs faded into dry henvings. He clambered to his feet sensing a clarity of mind such as he had not known eirice leaving the foothills of Canterbury The smarting of cuts made him wince and every movement brought' a stab of pain from wearv muscles. Hie brain wa« normal. The outburst had cleared hysteria as sweating passes a chill. Simultaneously, the odd sense of those who live alone warned him. Someone was watching him. From instinct, he looked in the right direction.

Above, on the first terrace, *tood a man. In the shadows the Cockney could see no details. With a swift movement, he snatched his swag and throw it across the boulder cup. concealing the nuggets. Storms of conflicting emotions trembled his limbs. Fear, hatred. murder, gleamed from his bright, shrewd eyes. Oh, God! To get so far and to lose it all.

The stranger -waved and shouted unintelligibly in a'hoarse voice. The Cockney remained silent. Shouting again, the man started the downward climb .across a path of broken rock. The Cockney was feeling at his belt for his knife sheath.

Before two steps had been taken, a knife gleamed by the river. Whether the stranger nw the knife and faltered or simply -euUtt-' * fftlse step, he

stumbled. For a split second there was a Ptrujrffle for halsmce. He crashed headlong. He rolled almost to the water's edge.

Without thinking, the Cockney sheathed his knife and pulled the stranger to a more level stretch. The fellow was groaning but conscious. He was even smaller than the Cockney, a bantnni with a typically artisan face darkened by a week-old stubble. The honest fare of a foreman, thought the Cockney breathing relief. Kngiish. "My leg."' grunted tin , man through clenched teeth, ••(.one.'' "Let's \ive a looksee, chum." The Cockney saw at a glance. Years of wandering had learned him the rudiments of thumb-ruin surgery. Keeling the willi quick lingers he diagnosed a simple fracture. Luck! The fellow oiisht to have jollied it on those rocks. " on a minute." Tie looked about and noticed a sapling growing between the boulders nearby. The knife went to work, the lcjr was set in the rough fashion of the pioneer and a splint strapped with a piece slashed from the Cockney's blanket. ""Thanks."' muttered the stranger. <!re;<t drops of sweat stood on hi* forehead. "When , ** yer swag?" a.-ked the Cockney, ri-ing. "Xone. Swam river mile back. Carried away." For l !l e first time, the Cockney noticed that tlie torn clothes were damp. Dried in the sun. The feller looked under the weather, too. Long marches and rationed stores through this country played havoc with the finest physique.

"I've two pounds of flour, mate, and enough tea for a panful, but no matches. (JawJ knows 'ow far it iV to the coast. I'm lost. Clean bushed, yer know ?"

The stranger smiled painfully and «hook his hc»il. The Cockney" stood ('linking. Without lire (he tea was use-

!■•.-* ami the Hour uupnhitnhlc. At the l.c-t tin; foiixt I'ir.ild -nt be less than twenty miles awnv. Perhaps fifty. The odd I'hani'P of striking a party of prospectors or Maoris was remote. . They would have to chance it. No time could !>e lo>t. "Ti!"r V !i full moon to-night, clmm. ! wi~h tliosT rapids was Thumps water. We could ninke a raft out <>' this driftwood Vre ami float down like lords of I'lViition. See 'aw fur we can go wivout sleep. 'Kr«*M luck:" As ho stooped to pick up his blanket, In; saw the boulder. The blue clay. • ■'old, g I cum etl dully in the last rays of the sun, smote like a blow. He bent there, petrified. T!ie ever-haunting \ ision flooded in again with the sliarp-ni.'-s of reality. Forty pounds those nujniPts weijrhed if an ouii".'. Forty ;."Mi:!ds. Nearly three thousand -_'ol<l •'••. •■■: ■■•'.■ !\* if he reached the bank. Any Ins- !•!!•-■< i:i Keiininpton would be his. Hi; would |'ii made for life—a citizen of -fai Mu-.r. perhaps a J. P. An honest wit' , and i bomo. A team of A cls'iin cheeked suit and a daz/.linjr pin with one of the small nugjrets. A shave every niorninjr and ..jrain in thp eveninfr. Clean shirts twice a week. He would, watch the years pase. Who was that otlier feller like him in the Good Book—Tshmael? That was over. Forty pounds dead weight. Almost too much in itself and he was weakened with exposure and lack of food. With a sick man to be carried. Aye! He'd forgotten that. The stranger was helpless. From the corner of his eye he saw the fellow watching him. Watching with a fear in his tortured eyes. He saw the fear turn to understanding and understanding to pity. Pity! Pity for him. With three thousand pounds at his feet. And then the Cockney understood. He straightened liia back and looked far up the gorge. The last rays of the evening silhouetted the bush on the other bank. The great swelling loveliness of it took him by the throat. He wondered why he had never noticed that New Zealand bush, thick and regular evergreen, looks like green marble in the half distance. Tides of green marble. There wan a dense silence. There were no birds to chitter: no sound but the rhythmic rustle of rapids. He was very near to God. He turned and put his arms about the stranger. Silently, he lifted the fellow. In a moment the pair were lost to sight in the bush. There was a driver of a Cobb coach. Cold fevered arrivals, swinging down the broad beach which was the highway between Hokitika and the Ross, watched him rattle by and wondered. Ho was warm in a beautiful check coat. A tiny nugget gleamed in a pin at his throat. When the relay team* were greys, he frowned; when they were chestnuts, he laughed and a wild song which the greybenrds remembered singing in Bendigo saloons. And they thought him mid for he shaved twice a day. Back in Hokitika. the little foreman of the stables smiled. He was lame but lie had 7nemories of a man who sacrificed wealth to save a life. To that man, to-morrow had come. (THE END.)