COMRADE, THE SURVEYOR.

Hot Lakes Chronicle, Volume 4, Issue 183, 3 June 1896, Page 3

COMRADE, THE SURVEYOR.

A NEW ZEALAND STORY. Founded on fact.

BY VICTOR ZEAL.

CHAPTER T. PRESENTIMENT. "Hollo, Comrade! What's brought you hack again ?" " A presentiment. L remembered iliat I hadn't said goodbye to everyone. so back I had to come." A dozen hands were stretched eagerly towards tho strong 3'onng fellow, who stood, looking half shyly, defiantly, at us out of his usually fearle?s, laughing eves. " A lucky presentiment," said one of mil- number, " that brings you back {nr one evening longer, for you can't ;tnrt till to-morrow now Comrade, that's plain." ■•Can't I though ?" he rejoined, his joyous self in a moment, as he found ~o one laughed at his presentiment, « I am off just as soon as I've gripped hands all round," and suiting the action to the word, he did grip our linnds, and, notwithstanding all our entreaties and protestations, with a hi-t gay farewell, he set out in long swinging strides, and was *oon hidden from our sight by intervening

"Lucky dog!" said Guy Halcombe, with a half sigh, and kicking a tussock viciously, " Lucky dog, to be in Duiiediti for Christmas, while wo will .hardly be there before the New Year "

'•Lucky dog, indeed," echoed Wilfred Nash, '• but I had no idea that ho w;;s superstitious. Wonder what the presentiment was ?"

" Oh," said Guy, " Souio nonsense or other about the New Year—beginning it' ' at peace with all men,' perJwp.s. Even in the greatest minds, vou know, we often find some deeprooted superstition." " I say, you fellows !" sang out another from the wharo door, "come to supper. You'd yarn there till all's •blue, if I'd let vou.''

No second summons was needed, and old Comrade was soon forgottt-n in the discussion of supper, a smoking lug of mutton, baked in a camp oven, and roast potatoes —a luxury 1 can .toll you, in a surveyor's camp, as nine-tenths of the time we were totally without vegetables.

For some unaccountable reason I was not hungry that evening. Instead of going with the others, I .turned my steps towards the fore-t, through which twilight was gliding with velvet footsteps, throwing ,i shadow here, and a phantom there ; subduing and softening whatever slio touched, then, casting over all a groy, silken veil of mystery.—Bali! Of what mn I talking'? Surely, lgavoun all such poetical nonsense, when I recovered from "calf-love!' Nevertheless, I went forth to meet .the twilight, and allowed her to throw fivev me tier silken veil of enchant- j merit, whilst I pensively paced the forest and thought of —Comrade. A ye r ago, i had met him in Dunedin. He had cottoned to me from the first. In September he had joined our camp, and somehow, bad become the friend of all. Wolf Nash liad one day laughingly dubbed him " i oinr ide," and the nan e fitted him so well, that, thenceforth, ho was known by no other at the camp. Tall, and proportionately broad and strong, lie was the swiftest runner; j could take the highest jump; could i liuii a stone at a flying bird and bring j it to the ground,; or climb the rugged j mountains from daylight till dark, j and xcoru t'ue idea of beiug tired, j With a smile, and a jovial word lor ail, lie made light of every hardship, and would compel even the most inveterate grumbler to tidmit, that the blackest cloud in our not over bright sky had, at least, a silver lining. Noble, he was also, and upright, for 1 bad proved that—yet no prig, only brimming over with fun aud good fellowship for all mankind. Small wonder then, that he was universally loved. Women loved him. No encouragement was needed from him iri that quarter, for, unconsciously almost before they were aware of it themselves, their hearts had passed into his keeping, in spite of the fact that he always announced at a now place, that " he was engaged to someone in England." Notwithstanding this they loved him. Jlen lov.ed him, and boys made him their hero. His attractive powers were great, and greatly to he envied, hut somehow envy never entered our heads with .regard to Comrade. Was it any wonder, then, that his departure cast even a transient gloom oyer our lonely bush camp ?"

CHAPTEII 11. Doubt. A sprinkle of rain fell on my fae, and. 1 hastened I u.clc to the camp. The plates had been piled up at one end t of tlie bark table, and two sets of cutthroat euchre were being played at the nther end. " Come, Claude,said Guy Halcombe, looking- up from his book, " sing us a song, or spin us a yarn, instead of mooning off by yourself. You remind me of the little 1 -Toni'tit in MiWclo. 7'ou my word, you do.— that." " Yes,'' said Wolf, striking an attitude, and keeping time with head and hands, " sing that!" and he led 'oft 1 ho first line, being joined along .tlie wjiv by all who fancied they could ting, even the card players joining in

lustily, between tlio deals. This was followed by other songs, mingled with yarns, some new, somo old, j'et welcome nevertheless. Just as we were separating for the night, someone remarked, that he " supposed old Comrade was well on his way to Fnrnham, by that time."

" Ho should have waited till morning," said Guy, "no one ought, to attempt crossing the mountains at night." •'O, you may trust Comrade to steer through any danger," said Wolf, " he bears a charmed life, I believo.'' The words haunted me as I lay rolled in my blue blanket. What if Comrade's life were not charmed ■ What if he ran into danger? But I laughed away my fear, and pulling the blanket well up to my chin, slept till the sun awoke me, by blazing full in my face. A week later wo started for Dunediu, taking the same route by day, that Comrade hud attempted-by night. It was a long climb up the mountain ridge; thence we had to follow a water-shed to tho left. There were two water-sheds from this point of tho range, that leading to tho right, abounding in dangerous precipices and roaring waterfalls. The river as it reached tho valley wandering off into a dozen streamlets, while the main course, which wont foam>jig and ing over its shingly bod, was met by these boisterous truants further down the valley. A fearful place it would be to travel by day, still more fearful by night. Koaching F.rnliam before sunsot, we found, to our astonishment, that Comrade had not called there; we knew that he had intended to, as ho had left his horse here. However, supposing that he had changed his mind, wo dismissed the subject from our thoughts, and, next morning set out in high spirits citywards. Arriving in Dunedin, no trace of Comrade could be found. Our worst fears were now fully aroused, and, with a search party, wo at once turned back to the mountain'.

[To BE CONTIVtri'D.]