THE BLUFF.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21223, 1 July 1932, Page 18

THE BLUFF.

BY ty.D.

There never seemed a time in the life tof Huh ana Reynolds when her imagination had not been dominated by the Bluff. From the small farmhouse window, it stood frowning at the green waters of tho river. Round it the sandy road ,wc-und its way to civilisation, and down this track had gone her Maori mother on her journey on earth. It was this mother who had told her the istorifes of the great rock, and the origin of. the tapu which had been laid upon it. As a phild, she had never set foot 'upon the crest of tangled gorse, fern, and manuka scrub that covered it, and she could remember the thrill almost amounting/ to fear with which she had heard that the road was to be cut right across its face. To her pakeha father, the re-grading and widening of the road, even as the opening of. the back country to closer settlement, was an unmixed blessing, but to Huhana., the scarred cliff seemed like a wound upon the landscape. For months she had made excuses for not going upon the new road, and it was with a feeling of apology that she had eventually /accompanied her father upon its rough way, and over the treacherous 6lipping rock flakes to the high mass of atone still left on the outer edge. Her courage drove her across, but it failed her when she came to this crumbling ramjpart, and she returned to look down at the fierce waters of the rapidly narrowing gorge. Over twelve months now, the jtiny array of workmen had burrowed, 'delved and dynamited their path, not .without the loss of more than one life, until only ;.a narrow track separated the two ends of tho road. After her one (Visit, Huhana had nevsr repeated the .experiment, pleading that she hacl no head ■for heights. Pat Flynn had joked and begged, and argued, but the girl had shown the firmness that underlay her gentle, pliable nature, and the man had talked in vain. " Afraid a taipo will get you if you lo ?" he asked her laughingly. She shook her head, smiling. Then gave a little unconscious shudder. " Glad when I have gone, Huhana V iho suggested, lightmg his pipe with affected indifferent concentration. " No! no. Having the men about jbas made ihings more lively, and we shall

jniss you all." "It will be pretty lonely at Christmas, I expect. I don't think anyone will be staying in the camp on this' side. I jwould not go away myself, but I have to go on business. I shall be back as poon as possible, you bet." A lighted the depths of the jgirl's eyes. "So keen on your job!" ehs murmured. Pat n\ade an impulsive move toward •her, but the weather-beaten door opened, and Jim Eeynolds came in. He noddrsd to Flynn and sank wearily into bis

chair. " Terrible hot," he said, filling his pipe [With rather unsteady fingers. " Wonder gf it can last much longer," " Hard to say. Every afternoon the ielouds come from the hills there, but they're gone by midnight. The country needs a good soaking." t, • » * * # Christmas found the plate deseited as JTlynn had prophesied. The nearest neighbours were on the far side of the iBluS, the camps of the workmen, so recently filled with strenuous life, lay empty. reigned in the gorge that for months had echoed with the sound of the drill, and the thunder of falling stone; Jim Eeynolds had been in . his room fell the afternoon. Huhana could hear the creaking of- the bed as he turned uneasily, and his heavy sighs of discomfort 8S hei moved. The air lay like an oppressive blanket on the plain; there was no coolness even when he came through at milking time for a cup of tea. The gill gave a worried glance at his heavily flushed face, the lines of which looked unxriturally deep, his eyes bloodshot and dim.

" Let me milk to-day, Dad, You don't look fit," she suggested. For a minute Reynolds hesitated. " Just this old trouble. Seems to get ;worsi}. The heat I suppose." He struggled again to his feet, and refusing / her help, caught up his buckets and yvenfc out to the yard. Th« shadows grew longer, the clouds / more massive, the orange sunlight unnatural and sinister. Up in the ranges & distant moaning told of * rising wind, / though not a leaf of the willows quivered by the shallow creek. The telephone sent out a sudden spark and, tinkle, a rumble of thunder shook the still air. Euhama finished her odd jobs round the farm, and returning to the kitchen cast a casual eye- upon the clock. Her father .■was later tlian usual. A glance f)om the window showed the cows still in the y yard, and with a sick feeling of fear, she hurried ovenr to them. Getting her father back to the house jwas a nightmare. Exactly when the Storm started she did not know. She supposed it must have been after th.cy reached shelter, as she found his clothes dry upon the floor where i;he had cast them. She remembered as she filled the hot-water bottle hearing the terrific crack j&nd seeing the blaze of light leap from the telephone, followed immediately by a crash of thunder that shook the house. Huharia i-an a frantic hand through her thick hair. To leave her father seemed impossible; not to go for help, equally eo. Her horse was away out in the paddock, and a difficult animal to catch; to travel round by the road on foot, a matter of an hour or more. Even as she stood in uncertainty, a vivid flash of lightning throw into ominous significance the bulky outline of the Bluff, the rain;washed track was like a beckoning finger. Over that, a matter of a quarter of an hour or little more would take her to the farther/ camp, where she knew one at least of the men had remained. She dared not hesitate. Paying another jvisit to the suffering man, she told him of her intention, but was not sure if he jihad heard her. One® clear of the shelter of the (verandah she had the storm to-fight, 'lhe .whole heavens were covered, with racing, ragged clouds, through which a frightened star peeped here and there. On the horizon, a sickly streak of lemon yellow showed : where the sun had faded, as though driven hastily down the sky by •.the fury of the gale. There still remained & little daylight; from it the wet roads caught a gleam, and it was not until she (felt the rough metal under foot that she realised it would be dark ero she the outer sido. There' was no turning • (back; she paused for a minute to gain breath before stepping from the shelter / of the cliff to set foot upon that - jfcrtacherous narrow track which climbed jtho bare hillside. The rampart she - remembered had gone, and nothing but ' flat slops of loose metal lay between

A NEW ZEALAND STORY.

" Perfect simply. Pat heldl out his arms,

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herself and tho river rushing high in its narrow bed. To wait was but to weaken a nerve keyed up by love and necessity to the doing of mighty deeds. But it was with a sob of fear and a prayer for her father's sake she might succeed that she left the last protection from the horror of the road. There was a lull in the wind as she commenced, and she made fair progress upon the upward climb, grasping at the sharp flints with wet hands, and digging her feet fnto its sliding mass for better hold. In the darkness, sho could see nothing but the top of the ridge bulking before hei 1 , impossible to tell how far away. ' The gale rose again, and she had to pause, suspended, while ahead a boulder loosened by the rain crashed and bounded down tho cliff into the distant water, adding a fesh terror to the superstitious dread and bodily danger in which she clung. Beneath her feet, she felt the movement of the ground upon which she stood, and struggled onward, clutching, sliding; often her progress arrested by the sheer force of the wind. Once again, the bend of the track gave a little shelter, and she scrambled upon the top of the ridge, to lie there > helpless, but at least with stability beneath. This side, .although the wind was fiercer, the foothold was more secure, and at last she wail upon the broad road, and the light in cno of the roughly erected cabins of the camp gave promise of help and human companionship. As she reached the place, she heard voices, but at first her feeble knock was not heard above tho rattling of the illfitting door. Then there was silenpe, and once more sho knocked. A chair was pushed back, sind heavy footsteps crossed the floor.

" Huhana!" Pat Flynn caught her by the arm, and drew her inside. She had a hysterical desire to laugh at the ludicrous oxprsssicin on the face of the man seated at the table, his mouth wide open, his pipo arrested half-way to his lips.

The girl gasped out her errand. Would they try and get the doctor on the telephone, or send word to him somehow ? Sho must go tack. Before she had finished, the man at tho table was half-way into his oilskins, and Pat had picked up his coat. " I'll como with vou. Got a lantern, Joe?"

How different was the journey home! Tho wind at their backs, the light of the lantern to show good foothold, a steady hand to guide and support. It seemed no time until i hey were once more in tho safety of fho farm. Days after, her father recovering in hospital, Huhrna stood at the window watching the last of the metal thundering down the sides of the cliff into tiie river bed. The woman, who had companioned her, was away visiting, and only Pat Flynn—calling in, as was his habit when his could make an excuse—her audience.

" Nearly finished," said tho girl with a sigh. " You'll soon be leaving, Pat."

The man coughed nervously. " Your father—. I was wondering— He won't be fit for .work for awhile. Do you think he would give me a job, Huhana " He was talking of needing help," she answered. " You know, it's funny," she went on irrelevantly. " But I have never been scared of t the Bluff since that night. I suppose," with a smile, "it was just 'bl affing ' me! I was not scared coining home with you either." " Superstition was the trouble; that's fear really, you know. What does the Good Book say, something about casting out fear ?" He looked at her shyly from lowered lids.

love," replied Huhana