Cross Purposes.

Cromwell Argus, Volume XXIV, Issue 1462, 11 May 1897, Page 3

Cross Purposes.

A TALE WITHOUT A PLOT OR A MORAL, [By Nemo.] CHAPTER X. On the evening of the wedding, Mabel’?, I mean, Steve and Ned set out for the township, just to hear how the affair had passed off. So they left their hut just as the round faced moon overcame the lingering light ot day and poured her full flood of mellow light ou hill aud plain, dappled with the shadows of a few lazy clouds, some of which formed a flimsy vobe of haze, through which her rays ran to and fro like golden threads. They walked on silently, the smoke of their pipes hanging in slowly whirling wreaths behind them, each busy with his own .thoughts, each thinking of the ‘might-have-been’s,’ and contrasting them with the ‘ is’a ’ —Uh, reader, if ‘ might-have-been ’ always resolved itself into ‘is’ when we find out how goodly a thing that ‘ might-have-been ’ was, and how happy we would bo if only 1 might-have-been ’ had come to pass, what a paradise this earth would be ! up-; moral of this is, as the Duchess, ;iiat dear, crabby, snuffy, old Duchess with the pepper box, Alice met down the ...bolt's burrow, tho moral of this is : ‘lf we only could live our life over again, what a beautiful life our life would be;’ a moral that affords material for much reflection, and not a few comic songs. At last they {Steve and Ned, that is, rot the Duchess-and her moral) came to the township. They had just entered the main and only street, when they met a noisy gang of Bacchana lians, by whom they were greeted with a burst of derisive laughter. ‘ Hallo, here comes the poor chaps as was jilted,’ cries one. * I’ll ang my Grp ou ha willow tree, han’ hoff to the wars hagain,’ hiccoughs another. ‘ Uh, shut up, you bloomin’ fools,’ whispers a third, who was just at the maudlin stage, ‘ Can’t you see as ’ow the poor fellows is arcl’it. 1 sympathizes with ’em. L was gone on ’or too. Uh, so gone ! so gone ! an’ now she’s gone,’ and he sat down on a stone and wept. ‘ Hullo, Ned, old man,’ stammers another, it never mind this herd of of canaille, this mobile vulgus- You’ll have your innings some day —Tempts fwjit, and we’ll have our turn bymbye. Sic-hic volvere Pareas, and ho ' volvered' away in a very storm-tossed =1 manner, ‘ 1 think you boys have been having a bit of a jollification,’ said Ned. You’re as funny as a piper at a wake. Gome along aud have a drink. Tho broken-hearts are going to shout.’ This proposal was carried unanimously, but before the usual objectless shuffling that follows such invitations had subsided, & new party came up, another party of revellers, but not in such an advanced stage of revelry as the first squad. Amongst these was Felix the Fiddler, who played first and only fiddle in the orchestra at the Olympic Palace of Delight and Galaxy of Beauty, to the strains of which waltzed, polkaed,' schottisched, and mazurkaed, under the glare of ligiits innumerable and smoky, the stalwart miner, who was bent on pleasure, and who in this palace of Circe tasted the delights of female society, albeit not very select, famous more for its wit than its morality. Felix had kissed the blarney stone often in his youth, and was gifted with us flattering a tongue and as obsequious a manner when dealing with those from whom any advantage was to be gained, as ever a parasite had, from the days of King Canute down. To those from iwhom nothing was to bo gained or for whose bodily strength he had no fear, he was quite a tyrant. His light blue eyes lay close under his nose and possessed every quality except that of being able to look anyone in the face. Steve and Felix were not at all friendly owing to Steve’s remonstrating with Felix for us>ug very disrespectful language to one of tho girls at die dance-house; for Steve would never let any woman, be she who she may, bo insulted in his presence. Felix, whose courage and animosity were both inflamed by tho liquor he bad drunk, pushed himself forward through the crowd, and, seeing Steve, at once made up to him, and thrust his face up into Stove's. ‘ Hello, boys,' ho cried, with a sneering, spiteful cackle, as full of malice as the ‘elfin screech’ of that dwarf which lured away tho heir of Baccleugb. ‘ Hello, boys ! Here’s our poor little broken-hearted Dutchman. His pretty little popsy-wopsy lias gone and married another,’ ‘Felix, you just shut up. You vas never happy but ven vie some fellow a row you kicks up.’ £ Vot’s dat got vith you to do,’ sneers Jerry, mimicking and exaggerating Steve's peculiarities of English. 4 You haf your sveetheart lost.’ ‘ If I was for Mabel caring, and she notviil me marry, dat vas my business, not yours.’ ‘ Of course, it’s your business ! Of it is. Never mind, Steve! She’ll soon get died of Dandy Jim when his ‘ pile ’ has gone. , She’ll always go where the yellow dust is, and you may be all right then. She’s only a ! and he called her by an unnameabie name. ‘ Yot is dat you say V replied Steve, sternly, his whole affection for Mabel, his respect and chivalrous regard for all womankind aroused, his manhood and purity of feeling, up in arms, in defence of her whom ho knew to bo light and frivolous, but never that. ‘ Yot is dat you say f’ f Oh,’ sneered Felix, ‘ Dutch Stove is surely deaf,’ and ho said it again, only in fouler terms than before. Steve leaned forward, and looked squarely at Felix so that the latter had much ado to look over Steve’s left shoulder at a cloud floating across the moon. ‘Jf you say dat again, I shall —you

—in the face—with my fiat—kick,’ said Steve, his English getting worse as his temper rose. Felix was very brave and bouncing when ho had met someone easily managed, and Dutchmen can’t generally use their fists, so he was as biave as a lion. ‘What! You infernal Dutchman,’ and he stood a tiptoe and swelled himself out, just like a rooster about to crow ; but he never crew, for Steve was as good as Ins woid, and kicked him so fairly in the face with his fist, that Felix went down like a log. Felix lay still tor a moment, then rose, shook himself, and rushed at Steve like a mad dog. Someone called out, ‘ Look out, Steve, he’s going to knife you,’ and Steve saw the glitter of bare steel. He threw up bis arm to ward off the blow, r-ceived it in his arm, staggered back, fell over the river bank, and rolled down its steep sides with a dull ramble. Felix dropped the weapon, a dagger a Maltese Had given him, and tied, before a band could be raised to prevent him. While this quarrel had been in progress, Ned had been away a short distance oil' with his classical friend, whose classicality broke out when lie was drunk, for be was severely simple when sober ; but Nod hoard the warning cry and dashed forward. ‘Good God! said someone, ‘Felix the Fiddler has murdered Steve.’ ‘ And I’ll murder him. 1 will, by God,’ said Ned, snatching up the dagger, and starting oft’ in pursuit of the flying Felix. Away went Ned, running with long springy strides that soon left the others in Ids rear, leaping from one atone to another, swaying from side to side, to preserve bis balance, his teeth set, bis nostrils opened wide and the hot breath flowing through them in a steady stream, the dagger, with its blade gloaming all except its narrow point which was dimmed by the dull red of clotted blood, clutched fast in Ids right hand, away lit' sped, the avenger, bis heart full of grief and hot wrath, bis mind full of one object, to overtake the figure some distance in fiout of him, which tied fleetly along the rugged path. And behind Idm toiled the others, stringing themselves out accoiding to their llcetness. Now, Felix, if ever thou ranst, run thy best, for one follows who lias no mercy for thee, wbo has sworn an oath for thy blood, and will keep his oath 1 Those who lumbered along behind the foremost two shouted to each other, tolling each other to hurry up and prevent Nod from killing Felix, or exhorting each other to run faster, faster, faster still unci overtake the stabbing villain and throw him in the river, and drown him Ike a dog. And their shouts echoed from rock to rock and from hill to hill, and filled the narrow gorge with a roar of voices that rose above the roar of the river, and lent wings of fear ft) him whom they hunt. And so the chase sweeps on. The ground gets rougher and rougher, still those two keep on their headlong, reckless course. Now the man in front plunges into shadow, and Ids course is traced by the Hashing of sparks as ids iron shod boots spurn the stones and rocks of the pathThen be shoots out in the moonlight, and dashes madly on, swaying, lurching, springing, breathing in bard dry gasps, the blood surging through Ids tars with a sound like the sound of many waters. His heart strikes bis ribs with quick, sharp, fierce strokes, like the strokes ot ft hammer on an anvil, and the shouts of bis noisy pursuers ring above, below, all around him, and, casting his eyes backwards as be runs, lie sees one fierce but silent pursuer, now leaping on ft rock, with bis arms thrown out and a glitter of steel showing that he ran with ready weapon, now plunging into a gully, then breasting the rise with head bint forward and slackened steps, b it gaining, gaining, inch by inch, yard by yard, til! his victim fancies he feels the Lot breath of the avenger on Ids neck, and thou the sharp and sudden pang of steel driven well home, so ho still strives forward. Presto! Presto! Presto! What, Felix, are your lagging feet playing a ralientando, when such such a dance is to be danced 1 Presto! Presto! or you will find that lids will be the last run you will ever make ? Presto 1 Presto ! for it is death that follows you witli no flagging step ] But Ids feet grow more and more weighty, they seem to bo picking up a load of lead every time they rise from the ground, the muscles of Ids legs ache, each separate muscle of them is taut and stiff, but their vigor is growing less and less, and every step is harder than tho step before. It is all uphill now, and he reel and staggers from side to side, and bis arras whirl to and fro as he steadies himself for spring after spring as ho overleaps one obstacle, or swerves round another. And now and again be looks behind, and sees that active form coming closer and c'oser, and the streak of brightness in his hand grows wider and wider, and brighter and brighter. There is a steep and rugged spur m front, rough with rocks and matted with scrub; here tye could hide and perhaps escape but tor the howling mob stretching along the winding gorge and shouting, some for his blood, and some for his pursuer to spare him, aud their shouts roll from rock to rock and hill to hill like a chorus of avenging demons; and that one silent figure is only a few yards behind, and the steep spur, mottled with light and shade, is only a few yards in front, ihero is but one way of escape—tho river. He turns and dashes down tho steep and stony bank throwing off his coat as he runs ; he stumbles across the bouldered beach and plunged into the icy torrent. His pursuer follows, off goes his coat, off goes his vest, ho makes two cuts with the dagger and his braces swing loose, two more cuts from waist band to boots, cleanly done, thanks to the keenness of the blade, and his sinewy legs gleam white in the moonlight as he too plunges into the torrent, just behind his prey. And the whirling river takes them in with a splash, and tossed them about like corks; and still, striving with mighty strokes and blowing tho ripplea from hia lips, tho

pursuer comes closer and closer and fiis victim is almost within his grasp, when a sullen roar rises up all around him. He climbs a hill of water and finds himself riding furiously round and round on its foamy crest, with a smooth glossy slope before him streaked with liquid rings, gleaming darkly all but one ominous, black, motionless dot in the centre, the nave of this watery wheel. Between him and that funnel whirls a face,, a white drawn lace, frozen with despair, with a pair of gleaming eyes widely staring at the peaceful sky, with lips drawn tight, a line of white between them ; and he turns and battles with the mighty torrent, battles for life alone, and round and round goes that fearful face, nearer that fatal black dot at every whirl. Suddenly ho feels a stronger whirl, a pulse of the mighty river, by a supreme effort ho mounts it, and the wave sinks from under him, to rise nearer the centre of the whirlpool, throwing the body in the Maelstrom half out of the water, and then those clenched teeth part and there rings forth over the roaring of a torrent, a cry as piercing and shrill as the ciy ot a wounded hare; then the river reaches out for its prey, seizes its victim by the legs, ho goes down like a dead kitten, the earth knows him no more and his resting place is the secret of unblabbing river. When the foremost knot of the pursuers arrived at the river bank, they found Ned lying across a rock spent and motionless. He staggered to his feet and gazed on the river, his white face drawn and solemn. ‘ Boys, 1 have just escaped being a murderer ! Felix is drowned, and may God have mercy on his soul, Amen,’ and every hat went off. Hallelujah Jack, a proficient swearer, but of religious training lifted his right hand solemnly, and said, in a deep and awestruck voice, 1 Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.’ And the river moaned its deep ‘ Amen.’ [To be Continued.)