AT WORK IN THE BUSH.

Evening Post, Volume LXXVIII, Issue 7, 8 July 1909, Page 7

AT WORK IN THE BUSH.

SCENES ABOUT THE CAMP '«, AT RANjGITATAU. HOW THE DAY PASSES. •> (From Our Special Reporter.) In shorter winter days the bu6hfailef has at his disposal to lay the bush low for the summer burns, the camp at Ra~ ngrtatau is alive before sunrise. At the first paling of the night, when all ' is still and peaceful in the bush, save for the shrill piping of the wekas, the cook and his mate begin to bestir themselves. J grunt and groans reveal them quitting reluctantly their warm blankets for the chilly morning outside. Follows*"' the thud of the falling axe on terone ' logs, quite differant ' f rom the sharper crack of the bla*Je in the standing tree. Is is Alf, the cook's mate, chopping . firewood sufficient unto the day. A* ciackling in the neighbouring galley be, S trays the resuscitation of last night's embers. A tinkling of billies follows :. breakfaafc ii s _ preparing. A short respite, and th/en the breakfast gong— a bakingdish beaten with a stick— wakes the' echoes from the bnshclad valley walls, * and the signal for the commencement ot another day's work calls the sleepers n-om their bunks. Lightly clad, four* dgures trot hriskly over the sward to the river. It is the surveyors going for! their morning dip. They do not tarry ' long in the water. The Waitotara, in mid-winter is not very inviting, ard s just in and out is enough. A low ,minutes afterwards out steps "Sturmy,"r the handy m-n of the camp, and in these busy times the cook's assistant. He calls out, "Roll up, sports 1 !" And\ one by one ail the sports— and they are good sports— roll up to breakfast. It is now between -half -past s=ix and seven —high time for breakfast in the bush. AT BREAKFAST. Fourteen or* fifteen men are ranged m the rough benches an each side of the ' taWe in the galley tent. Most of them belong to the regular survey -jangs, Uitf> there are one of two strangers, eating a last meal before going up the river to their sections. Everything and every- ' body is rough and ready. Mick, the cook, who in his time once drove a brewer s dray in Wellington, and will talk footbaH with any man, stands by a row of pots and billies and ladles out burgoo for the first course, and pigeon stew for the second, while Alf hands round big pannikins of tea. "Sturmy" assists, when there is a rush, and keeps the conversation alive with all sorts of quaint remarks and quips. He is decidedly the wit of the camp, never a* a Joss for a retort. He reads out an lnfagmary menu, including "slog" — the sfew— and "Holritika slip-dtown"— a kin.l of sago pudding— this, of course, for lunch. Whatever name you like to cm.il •it, the tucker is all gocd. Bread baked by Mick in sections tbe shape of the national shamrock, tastes better than t* c bread you get in town j there is nothing like the pigeon stew, and the tea is billy tea. and that's all right. There is actually the luxury of milk, for the calnp boasts a cow, milked by Alf in the open after the proverbial old English milkmaid manner. Good butter and plenty of jam complete the bill of fare. OFF TO WORK. Breakfast, however, is no/, a lrleal to prolong, as there is the d^y's work before all. The boss gives 'his orders and the parties prepare to go out to their various duties. Some are set to drain the camp, which is w.-ry muddy through the recent rains. Another party makes a zigzag track up a neighbouring hill. One man chops n>ore firewood and plasters the rough panga and tawa chimneys with mud to protect them from the heat of the flames. The survey teams pack up a, snack i<or lunch — for they will not return before nightfall— and, chain tape in hand and slasher over shoulder, trudge arcs oss the vet grass over the flat round the next bluff up the river, and are lost to sight During the day thaw, will do much. They will take observations, make traverses, blaze out lines with the slasher, and generally mark out the areas for the bushfellers, who are arriving now so thick and fast, la ' the couise of their work, they may have to pole up the river against a strong current; in Maori canoes, or climb steep spurs, to get their bearings. There is no harder life than a surveyor's Hit, yei, such- is Lhe charm that the men are raver lacking to undertake the job. UNDER THE SWAG. The surve3=ors are followed at an interval by the bushmen, who are iold to swag it up to a certain point in <he river, and threre wait for a cance. They go off under a burden that would crush ' most city men to the ground. ■ Some of the swags weigh as much as a hundred pounds, and the track is no beaten highway. It is a muddy, very muldy, two-foot trail, over stumps an*l logs, along the face of the river bank, treacherous and slippery, or up sharp pii.ehes, where a single false step may bring a man do.wn on top of a sharp axe. SI ill, these chances must be taken. The day of metalled roads and motor-cars ht-s i;ot 3 r et arrived at Rangitatau. ARRIVAL OF MAORIS. Back at the mam camp life proceeds ior a time uneventfully. Dennis, the wild sucking pig captured by an enterprising survey man, is duly "fed with a view^ to his appearance at an early date on 'Slurmy's" menu. Alf chops more and more firewood. Mr. Grevillc goes off to Waitotara to supervise operations at that end, so that the chain ot com'Tmimeation \iith headqiwiters nuv he kepi intact. Then there in a civ in Maori irom the river hank a coupio of hundred yards away. The Maoris ha\e arrived in their canoes with stoics for the camp. They ha\e poled up lhe dozen miles, oi winding, muddy rner from Waitotara. in ;; snornipjj' which has belied its earl\, promise of a"t,m day by turning to lain. There ;.re (l.ice canoes, each carrying up to .< (on of stores, ca-bes oi axes, camp-ovens, <_,rmr). stones, blashert., tents, hags of "fioia, potatoes, meat, and an occ«>sional .' w ,t<;. The Maoris come into camp and ;<~»3 greeted with the salute, "Naiiniai"' Welcome! They are welcome. It \\ou>d be an ill day. if the stores ir.n slu-n. They crowd into the cookhouse toi a cup of steaming tea and some bread and cheese. Then somebody remembers Hare's wahine is still at the canoes, and Hare goes out to call her up. An exchange of voluble Maori brings over the edge of the river bank the wahine, who gets the refreshment she has earned by steering her husband's canoe up the river. Alter a short day the Maoris depart, taking with them a passenger, who has been sent back to Waitotara by orders of the boss, as being unfitted for the bush. Incidentally, the Maoris are doing we'i out of the transport. They may make as much as £1 10s a trip. THE END OF THE DAY. So the day passes. More of the uh. •employed arrive, and are accommodated. They camp temporarily out of the rain under a fry tent. The stores are humped up from the river bank to the Government depot. It is pretty hard carrying a couple of camp ovens up a. steep, slippery bank. Still, it is all in the djwPs work. At jSusk,.whi£b,-faJ]s nearly- in.

these grey* showery days, the survey men come back wet to tiie skin, one or two arrive even later, and allay anxiety as to their whereabouts. Clothes are quickly changed, and hung up by the roaring fires to dry. Dinner, the solid meal of the day, is much relished. Appetites fvve surprising to a- townsman. Then there are talks over pipes by the camp fires. Songs tkafc seem to sound sweeter here than though there are several really good voices in camp, fill the peaceful valley. The weather improves, and the moon comes out. So, too, do the kiwis, ehriHing something like vvekas, and the morsjjork grating from a neighbouring tree. The bush rat steals nearer to camp to secure what he can, while tired men sleep — lor by nine o'clock tho toilers in the forest, the modern pioneers, are nearly all abed — all save the surveyors, who stay up late to plot on plans the observations they have made during the day. And so the day passes.