THE COURAGE OF A CRIPPLE

Hawera Star, Volume L, 20 December 1930, Page 17

THE COURAGE OF A CRIPPLE

(By Bernice Entwistle.) Harold Darcy, sitting beneath his favourite kauri tree, hugged liis knees a little closer to his chin and gazed wistfully up at the starlit heavens. A hundred yards away was his home; lights glowed at the windows, and laughter floated out to him, for to-night was his sister’s birthday, and the young folks from miles around had gathered at the Darcy’s home to celebrate the event. The Darcys had been in New Zealand four years, and now lived on a small farm, cleared from the bush which surrounded it on all sides, and swallowed up by this rough bush was the rough track which led to the town five miles away. It was a beautiful situation, but very isolated in these troublous days of the Maori wars.

Harold had grown weary of the games and the lively chatter, for he was a cripple, one leg being shorter than the'other, and his heart was very, weak, so that he had to avoid too much excitement, and could not romp and play as could his brothers and sisters, instead he would creep quietly, away to his kauri tree, and dream wonderful dreams in which he was a soldier, big, bravo and strong, going out to fight the Maoris, leading his men on to victory after victory. Or perhaps, if he were very tired, lie would listen to tire splash of the tiny waterfalls in a nearby stream, or the cry of the mopoke and the wind crooning in the trees. The stars were his friends, and. he knew no fear of the dark, gloomy bush. Suddenly, from the gloom of the bush, dark forms began to move towards the house, creeping from shadow id shadow, and gradually encircling it. “Maoris!” whispered Harold hoarsely, rooted to the spot in horror. He tried to scrcm, but no sound came. Arid then, with a blood-curdling yell, the Maoris sprang to the doors and windows-. The peaceful night air was rent with screams and moans. Harold shut his eyes and blocked his ears and began moving towards the house step by step, and up to n window. Cautiously lie peered through. A big Maori was speaking to Mr Darcy threateningly. “You give us food. We eat! Paheka take Maori land, Maori take Pakelia food! Soon no more Pakehas!”

Mr Darcy shook his head obstinately, but his wife, with a low moan,, cried: “Give'it them, John. It may save

Outside Harold looked at his parents, then at the terrified guests, and turned to creep away. He had heard tales of, massacres, and now the same thing was descending on his beloved home. But no, he alone was unnoticed, and free to bring help. He, Harold the cripple, could go to the rescue, even if it cost him his life. There were troops in the township five miles away, and once, he got there all would be well. Away he went to where the horses were grazing, he who had never ridden before, and scrambled on to his father’s horse somehow or other, clinging desperately to its mane. No sound came from the house, nor were any Maoris visible. Evidently feasting was in progress. Silently he opened the gate to the track ,and then gave the horse his liead.

■On and on went Harold through the gloom of the bush, his heart thudding painfully against his ribs. Ah! dimly ahead glowed the lights of the township. But at that moment some frightened creature of the bush leapt out and ran blindly across the horse’s path. With (i snort ho reared and jerked away, throwing his rider heavily to the ground, and then dashed off into the darkness. for some moments Harold remained as he had fallen, gasping painfully for breath. And then he remembered his mission. Up he scrambled and stumbled on. going as fast as his crippled leg would allow. Times came when he dung to a tree trunk, gasping and choking, his knees giving way, but lie would remember those at home, and' the giant courage of his will carried him on again.

And so he came to the township and staggered into the tiny hotel, where he collapsed entirely. He came back to consciousness to find himself lying on a «ofa, with someone forcing brandy between his lips. Painfully and slowly he told his story, and then, with a weary s : gh his big. splendid spirit went home to his friends, the stars.

The Darcys were saved, and their frien'ds too, and they buried Harold beneath his kauri tree, with the wind and the stream murmuring to him, and a soldier’s cross marking his resting place.

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