SONG OF MEMORY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVIII, Issue 20982, 19 September 1931, Page 13 (Supplement)

SONG OF MEMORY.

By E. MARY GURNEY.

A NEW ZEALAND STORY.

ii^Vnr ft n » said McKain dryly, " any exfj?Ur demanded Hayes, uneasily. -f ; . ~ „.' as ' behaving even more like a cad n usual, and he knew it; l?ut what he JSTnot know, was that, at heart, he had !lwiv3 been a piker, so that McKain, at f kasti was not really surprised. ;I " You're trying to make out that you're kine nie because Tommy didn't win, thai he didn't because 1 trained him \yrongl v whereas you know as well as fdo that it" you'd left him to me, he'd have romped home. ' Haves blustered, but McKain only fired at him contemptuously, flicking the ash i ronl ''' s c 'S arctte with nicotine--st!Haves h blustered again, and McKain spat,"with studied contempt, at the other's feet. " I've stood your liver lor years, ' said McKain, " because I was afraid of losing my job; L '"t atter l' Ve P llt U P with from you> 1 oul ot " at worst time man could be; and the only compensa- - don is that I don't have to stand you any more- s not n,aster to man ' man to man, and I'm going to indulge my liver for a change. Il you'd done the square thing by me—given me a character and a chance to get a job—l'd not have felt like I do now, but you're a crook and a vvelshcr," Hayes drew a deep breath. "Carefully, my man!" he warned. j "Carefully be . -And I'm not your man! You interfered with my training," said McKain. " But you told everybody J said he was good, but he didn't win, and •voa didn't mean him to win; but when I'm gone, you'll 'train him my way, and w in the cup with him." ' "j suppose," said Hayes furiously, f that you know what you say coustitutes 4 slander ? " "I know," said McKaiu, quietly. And there's just, one other thing I know. Tommy will not win the cup." He turned to staro down the line of loose boxes, whistling between his teeth — a thin, high thread of sound that held ?' a strangely-piercing quality; and in a box three doors away, a horse whinnied eagerly. "Just a Song!" said McKain, mockingly. "Just!a Song! All you gave for him'! Trained my way, he's a worldbeater, hut he'll never win anythiug lor you!" He stared at Hayes speculatively. ."Welder!" he sneered. "Crook! Bah! " He turned on his heels and went down the yard, not even pausing to look into Tommy's box; Tommy, who knew his step —the very inflections of his /voice; Tommy,'who had answered when ' be whistled. ■ft * * * * * It was not until six months later, and a month before the cup. that McKain saw again the bay horse that had been his great joy and" pride in days gone by. Tommy, otherwise Just a Song, was * in the*pink"— fit and fresh and beautiful—a world-beater indeed. McKain, shabby and tired, and back in the little town where Hayes trained his Strin", saw him go by. Fuzard had him —Fuzard, the head boy—who was a decent lad. McKain called to him, and Fuzard brought the big bay over, distress ou his vmin'T face, when lie saw how tired and shabby McKain looked. " Hayes is a dirty brute, Mack. He's training Tommy like you reckoned to; and it suits him ' " I know," said McKain. "He s great, but he won't win." He stood fondling the horse and whistthrough his teeth; nnd Just 3 *-ong nickered, and poked his silken muzzle into the man's arms. . Tommv was the only living thing that he had ever loved —that had ever loved Tommv —world-beater; but he would TO - K win now—not for Hayes, anyway. . McKain turned away sighing, and a man accosted him—a well-dressed, well-fed man, with a precise voice, and shifty eyes. , "That's Hayes' horse, Just a bong,- is it not ?" . , . McKain/stared at the man, tlaty eyes were unfriendly. " The cup winner," said the other, conclusively. * 4 ou should have led him in; but Hayes wilL Hayes is a dirty "So '!■' said McKain. He dropped the charred stub of his cigarette, and ground it under his heel, as he watched the other. Shifty. EviL What did he want? Nothing that would bode good to Tommj " You're Bradley McKain. Mv name is Collier. Hayes is a welsher —a crook. " So?" said McKain, again, in his dry way. William Collier, who owned Top o the,World —the top weight in the Cup. "You're out of a job," said^ Collier, eyeing McKain's shabbiness. " Haves doing. But if you like, you can get even with Hayes, and earn a big stake at the same time:" - • , His shifty eyes flickered from McKain s expressionless face, across the empty street, and down it, to where a small • speck showed —Just A Song still moving awav. "I see." McKain rubbed thoughtfully at his nicotine stained fingers, but his eyes were still blank. Hayes might be a crook, but so was this fellow. He'd evidently plunged heavily on his own horse, but he was afraid of Tommy—afraid Tommy would win: and the easiest way to make sure that Tommy would not, was to see that he did not start. For reason Collier wanted his assistance. Weil—he should have it —within reason. " We'll go where we can talk," said McKain, briefly. Benny Fuzard rode Just A Song along a back street/ toward the track. To-day, for once, he was alone. Durwent had gone on with the other two, some ten minutes before. The back street was narrow, with warehouses towering on either side; but Benny frequently went that way to escape taking the bay horse over the concrete. Half way down were the entrances to two breweries. Benny rodo idly, pleased with life — pleased with himself —pleased with Just A Song. Just A Song was a great ride — keen hut not hot-headed. He ran with his "brains, as well as with his feet and his heart When you were riding, if you spoke, his ears twitched, listening. A man in a loose overcoat, slouch hat and slacks came out of the brewery entry, and strolled along the street past him. Benny glanced at him idly as they passed. A few steps '• further on, Just A Song ' stopped, looked back, eagerly, whinnying. Benny dug his heels in, but the bay did Wot go fin, so the bov slapped him, and .Just A S>ng reared, pivoting on his heels. " There's something queer here." mused 'Benny. The Lay horse tugged at the l*ins, ami Benny let him go, back the Way hi* had come. Up the street the slouching figure was , standing at the pavement edge, and in it Benny sensed something vaguely familiar; but before he reached it the figure turned and vanished down a cross road. Two days later the same thing happened again—this time in the main street at the crossing where they took the turning to , the track:' Benny turned the corner, and then old Tommy put, one ear back, and stopped, looking hack. And again Benny had that odd feeling that something "".'is wrong. He called to Durwent. who was g"ing on—" .Joe, we'll go iilong Old High Street." The hoy en me back. What's the big idea. Ben?" " Dun no. 1 ' ivij.l Ben, soberly; hut he had a queer feeling that, if he could only place-it. he would know what had stopped *he big hay. ' The following morning Hayes went away a couple of days, leaving Benny ■fcuzard in charge, and Benny, without S Ql te understanding his own motives, sent ur went on in charge of Just A Song; Potting Juijt A Song's gear on Melody—- ® bay so like Just A Song in size and n 'ld, that, with the hood and gaiters on, someone very familiar with them would have detected the change. I

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wSh n h h Q \ We , n l off ' down sfeet along r»g>s°A ha s d „ n b g cen 1,1 th » cMtom ° f «•* Nothing happened. 11 IK a™ h U,"e riV Tfjta! he „ lnl . C u k ' he watching the ho™" g °° "» M, l K^ d , St< !HP ed to s Peak to him, and i.O« r™S S CaSUllly at 11,6 h °° ded again'" 11 " 8 °' d Melod y into training . P ei 'haps ' said Fuzard, glancing ound quickly. " Did it ever strike yos how like he is to Tommy?" D °dded indifferently. Melody should be destroyed," he said, harshly. 'He'll uever. get over that tiouble. It s damnable—this business of trying to bring him back " " I know." Fuzard went on. leaving the man with his grim, keen face, and hard eyes, leaning against the fence. Ho took Just A Song over from DnrT e "> , Un c d the - v started over the mile. , u Song was finishing fast, a good length in front of his stable mate as they passed McKaiu; and as they went past, the big horse faltered, his ears, twitching, and Durwent. on old Melody, shot by fuzard pulled up. baffled. It was here -the same thing that had checked the bay horse m the street. But he couldn't place it. He rode back to where McKain still leant on the rail?. " Mack—did you see that?" McKain nodded. Just A Song reached his friendly face over, arid the than rubbed it, staring at Fuzard with his baffling grey eves. When Hayes sacked me," said McKain, he chucked awav a fortune There's oidy one man in the world can train Tommy on—and that's Bradley McKain." Iwo days later, as Benny rode old Melody, in Just A Song's gear, along tho by street, the shabby figure in overcoat and slacks went by again; and a second later there was a lusilade of shots from the brewery entrances, and the old horse collapsed beneath him like a rickety chair. Cup day—and among tho gay crowd on the lawn the shabby man with the keen honest face, was oddly conspicuous. For the most part," he stayed by the lails, a few yards below tho winning post. Hayes ran into liiin there. Not too broke to patronise tho races, hey, McKain ?" He smiled unpleasantly, showing his teeth. " Fancy you mistaking old Melody for Tommy!" lie said. "Have a care!" There was a threat in his last remark, but McKain only stared inscrutably, and turned back to the rails to watch the horses canter past. Before the cup, however, he went to watch the tote; and just before it closed, £2OOO went on to Just a Song, who, until then, had lain only fifth in the bidding. Top o' the W T orld vent out favourite. Hayes would have b;g sums with the bookies, too. McKain, well content, went back to the rails. The horses cantered past—Just a Song, with Fuzard up. going perfectly. The field went away to a good start, and Just a Song lay fourth on the rails all the way round; was still lying fourth when they came on to the straight for tho finish. Then Fuzard brought him out, and he put in a great run, coming up fast on the outside. Crept up from Top o' the World's quarters to his shoulder, from his shoulder, up and up, until a length from the post, his nose was, for a second, level And then one ear twitched. He faltered, and Top o' tho World went home by half a length. At the gates the traffic was held up, and Hayes saw McKain go by, with his lurching horseman's gait—lonely, silent, aloof. Everywhere Just a Song there was McKain, greyer, shabbier, more inscrutable than ever. And everywhere Just a Song failed. Hayes dismissed Fuzard, suspecting collusion; and still Just a Song failed to score. Seconds —thirds —but never a win. Hayes shadowed McKain—set others to watch him, but they could not lay hold on anything. lu the end there was an inquiry into the bay horse s running, and Hayes, nearly bankrupt, sold him. Harvey Willford bought him—one of the few owuers wdio had neither sacked men or cut their wages; and in his first big race—a rank outsider—Just a Song romped home from a field that had beaten him time and again. McKan collecting his winnings, met Willford, by the tote, and Willford pleased with his win, spoke. " Backing your old stable, McKain 1" McKain nodded. " You've picked a winner," said McKain. "So it seems." Willford stared into the keen, honest face, and he wondered. Hayes had sacked the man without a character; had hinted that he was undoubtedly the instigator of that shooting affrav. "Sluch on?" asked Willford, frowning* .. "All that was left of my savings, returned McKain, dryly. "Quite a pot!" McKain shrugged. " Enough to keep me in poverty for the rest of my life, if I don't get a jt»b." " I see." W T illford turned away—turued back, on impulse. " Like to see the old horse ?" They went over to the stable enclosure, where the boy was leading Just a Song up and down; and McKain whistled through bis teeth—a thin, high thread of sound that held a strangely piercing quality; and tho horse stopped, in his tracks, ears pricked, eyes eager. Fuzard came excitedly out of a box. "I've got it!" said Fuzard. "Mack! He was always whistling that tune—!" He saw McKain with Willford, and went across. " Mack! Then you were in that shooting muddle!" "In all the muddles, admitted McKam soberly, caressing the bay horse. ; He gave Willford his straight look. " There'll be no more, sir. Just a Song will win." „ ... Willford Happed the turf with an lm patient heel! " You mean to say that in all that row—people yelling their heads off and the excitement of the race —he heard you —heard you whistle ?" > "He always hears me, sir. He d hear me anywhere." . "The shooting?' questioned Willford. 'l'hey approached me," said McKain, defensive!v. " They offered me—a fair^ bit just to signal them tho right horse "And you double-crossed them." " Not exactly," denied McKain. His eyes twinkled. " They knew it was the right horse—only it always turned back." " You took a risk." " None sir. I knew he'd stop; and if the boy had tried to make him go on, I could have warned him—" " You didn't whistle when Melody was shot," said Fuzard, uncertainly. "No If I had, you'd have stopped; or vou might have—and old Melody had earned his rest." "Then —'• " I just turned round. It was to be the signal—that time." " You knew it was Melody?" McKain nodded. •' I sec." Willford looked from the shabby man, with the lithe, compact figure, and keen, honest face, to Die sleek, honest horse. " I'll take you on." said Willford, turning on his heel. " Thank you, sir." McKain took the reins from the boy and led Just a Song away, whistling through his teeth—a thin, high thread of sound that held a strangely piercing quality—- " Just a song at twilight—" Incidentally, it happened to he the only tune that Bradley McKain knew. (|