THE MAN, THE BOY, AND, GIRL.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXXVII, Issue 10237, 28 August 1909, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE MAN, THE BOY, AND, GIRL.

(By Roy Hallock.)

The man turned mid groaned. He had groaned incessantly of. late. The coarse straw mattress beneath liim moved restlessly under the lank, emaciated form that strove to find a comfortable hollow in its unyielding bulk. The sturdy bed-posts themselves even reflected the utter weariness as they bent slightly under the strain. The man's gaunt finger-tips clutched nervously at the edge of the threadbare coverlet and sought some new rent in the well-worn texture in order to finger over. But it was the same as ever;nothing new. And so it had been for weeks past, except that the fevered fancies of delirium had ultimately yielded to the restive calm of convalescence. He turned again. The listless sweep of his eye wandered over the hackneyed surroundings. The crude walls of the miner's shack showed bare to his glance. Only a gun or two and a half-filled cartridge belt relieved the blank aspect. A rough table, a few.stools and a. low-lying shake-down contributed their small bit towards an essay at comfort. But it was the glow from the hearty log fire that held his uncertain glance. With that touch of nature which makes the whole wprld kin it seemed* to beckon him. The crackling embers were merry' and hinted of-pleasure yet untasted. As the parent log cast off bits of the glowing coal in a fire of snappy repartee, it-took the gloom of the man's gaze and transmuted it into a semblance of- cheer", cheer penetrant at so small an outlay. He must have been thankful, for a shadow of a smile'played over his shrunken lips. There was a tramp of feet outside and a few sharp blows suggested someone knocking the snow from their boots. The dor opened and he saw that it was the Boy.

it's snowing." "Hello, boy." The response was faint, but a new cheer infused itself iuto the., briefness bf his reply. The Boy noticed it and smiled encouragingly as he-shook the large white flakes "from their furry restingplace.

He " threw a fresh log on the fire.. Tlieri'; with the"deftness of" a woman s touch, lie skilfully dropped two or three drops "from a phial into a little water and quietly crossed the room to the hecl"Here you arc," he said, and gently raised the invalid's head, / "Thank vou, Boy, thank you. A studied expression crept into the man s eyes and for a few moments never wavered.. > "Boy/' __ "I .have been sick for a long time, haven't I?"

"Six weeks to-morrow." "And you left your claim to take care of me?" '• "The ground was freezing. There was nothing I could do there." "You lie, Boy." The very calmness of his voice bore a plea for the truth. "Well, there was plagu'ey little to do, arid wait." "Yes, I suppose my gratitude might wait, too. I can never repay what you've done. It meant life to me." The Boy's eves held a new strange light. His glance rested meditatively on the curious flickerings of flame curling in and out among the logs as a serpent weaving its way in a. heavy growth of underbrush. Two forked tongues there were iu particular that centred his "■aze. Quivering hesitating, for a moment th'ov playfully-eluded each other, and then -united, only to separate after a brief interval. Their periodic vacillation did not please him, and he turned away. "No, it isn't that you owe me gratitude. What little I have done is more than well repaid. You may not understand,'so let me explain a bit. There are certain things which cannot be figured up in the debit and credit columfis of the human-ledger; not from the material standpoint. I have given you-the best help I could, and gladly. -That would balance one side of the ledger, but in return you have-given Hie\soinething which does not figure up as 'services rendered,' and is above all price. You catch my meaning, don't you?' This something is impossible to define it in as many words, and I would make a failure of it if I tried. Yon will understand me, when I say that in meeting you, and knowing you, 1 am perfectly." content. It has given mo something priceless." The fire had softened and the two frivolous flames no longer sparred and repulsed each other. They had united. This satisfied the boy. His eyes met those of the man and in that meeting a perfect understanding laid bare its very soul. There was no further need of questions. Gratitude and restitution were a thing of the past. The man knew the Boy and the Boy in turn knew the man. Those gaunt finger-tips ceased to finger the frayed coverlet and returned the firm pressure of the Bov's grasp. They confirmed the unvoiced covenant of friendship, acknowledged without comment and understood without explanation. , Winter dragged slowly on. The Boy had moved his few belongings from his own shelter and now the two used but one roof, which befitted the tacit compact into which they had entered. Nature joined in the strengthening of this bond of theirs. Heavy snowstorms, miniature blizzards in themselves, followed in quick succession. Work on either claim was impossible. For a month or more it was only with the greatest difficulty that a passage could be tunnelled through the short distance between the living shack and a lowlying roughly constructed building which bore the dignified name of "storehouse." Here was packed their stock of canned goods, embedded in barrels of saw-dust; and other necessities uneffected by the extreme cold. An enormous quantity of wood, cut in four-foot lengths and stowed away with a calculative eve to economy of space, filled more than half of the interior. . Outside still more lay piled against the south side of the building covered with snow but yet available in case of need. Tlie invalid recovered his lost vitality very gradually. The loudest challenge of winter had spent itself two weeks past before he found himself able to situp. Then during the last stand of a fiercely waged contest, with winter slowly bub infallibly assuming the role of vanquished, there ripened an intimacy between the Man and the Boy that in its propinquity to maturity was pregnant with a reverence so subtle and so potent that it is doubtful if either of them could define it; and would have if they could, which meant a great deal more.

Spring, the touchstone of a benevolent nature, came accompanied by a new appreciation of unlimited freedom. Successive thaws, aided by the use of pick and drill, opened up the surface ground and permitted a renewed activity in working the claims. The 1 invalid had now fully recovered, and the ascendancy of one of those finer sensibilities, termed by the psychologists as the "second self," led both to speak of their claims as one. In whatever direction attention was'needed they gave it unitedly. Five Mile Pass, a rough tortuous path leading down to the small mining settlement, "had opened up _ sufficiently to permit travel. One morning the Boy set out for the town, proposing to obtain a few necessary tools and perhaps pick up some delicacy that his partner would np|Jreciate. The day hung gray and misty, emphasising to the man his unaccustomed lonesomeness. He found a lack of his usual pleasure in work and returned to the shack to await the arrival of his comrade. About dusk, a cheery whistle sounded up the pass and he smiled in expectation. The evening had crawled well into night. The open fire was an easy winuer in a struggle with the raw dampness prevalent out-of-doors. The conversation had lagged and the Boy reached out for his . pipe. As he searched through his pockets for some tobacco his hand encountered a crumpled piece of paper, which with a,laugh he drew out and passed over to his companion. It was.,a hand-bill of flaming red, faced with, large black letters. There was nothing unusual in the bill, but it announced the performance of a vaudeville company in the small mining town, 'which fact iii itself was very unusual. For one continuous period of six > days the public was to be condescendingly favored with the talent of a world famous troupe, so it ran. The Jolly Trio afforded "barrels of fun;" the Juggling Jumblers were the "world's famous acrobats and jugglers;" Shady Sambo" was the "king of colored artists;" Rexie and Trixie in a "snappy skit" entitled "You couldn't if you would;" and wonder of wonders, there was Mile. Chalons, "the world acknowledged queen of toe-dancers in her new creation 'The Dance of the Mermaid.' " The, man considered the poster carefully. The frivolous things of life, the petty pleasures of self-gratification, held an almost serious aspect in the small world of toil centred among the mining camps. To him that bit of -flaring red and black, crude though it was, awoke an impatient echo from a memory mellowed by -' years of oblivion and dimmed by the montony- of its present environment. Yet that" latent memory needed but a gentle touch to arouse it to spirited activity, fraught • with the richness of reminiscence hallowed through a long span of years, a reminiscence in which the most -trivial loomed large rigainst the empty horizon of later years. With an effort he thrust it from him. The intervening time had been a void, but now he had the Boy and a friendship he knew to be enduring, which annulled the bitter that life had cancel heretofore. ■:.. . .

"Were you thinking of going?" he said. The bill had dropped to the floor and the Boy stooped to pick it .up before he replied. "Why, not both-of us?" "No, no. My sluggish old blood would refuse to respond; even to their wonderful toe-dancer, and I' doubt if I could picture a mermaid dancing—unless some of the hoys took a notion to do a little, fancy shooting,!' he add"cd with.grim'humor. And so happened that on-tile first

nightrof'the "show'the '.Boy wont alone down the pass to the settlement, while the man stretched himselt before the lire and-thought of various i things. It was past midnight when the Boy returned and lie quietly crawled m between the blankets of his shake-down without waking his comrade. Throughout the following day the Boy was unusually restless and silent, but his companion asked no questions for he knew that the- explanation would "come. It was toward evening when the younger man finally broached' the question on his mind. "Do you mind if I, go down again to-night?" , ~ . t The. man had halt expected this and acquiesced without comment. Had the other been older or more discerning it is to he doubted if he would have disregarded the entreaty in the mans eves And as the days of the weeK drao-o-cd on, each night witnessed the departure of the Boy down the pass. Each succeeding night his return was later than that of the preceding. The man said nothing, but it was not until he had heard the familiar step that his eves closed in sleep. "There came a night when the first streaks of dawn stole in through the window and found the man with eyes wide open. The usual cheery step had not come, and through what had seemed an endless vipil ho had lain awake and listened without result, fearing and vet certain what had occurred. " The sun tipped the rocky horizon with a glorious golden flood. For the man it did not shine. A sense of foreboding, ominous and darkly suggestive, hid in every thought. 'Unable to restrain his impatience he picked up a stocky walking-stick and started down the pass. There it lay! A view that he had not gazed upon for nearly a year. At the lower end of the pass he stopped to ponder a minute. The lictlc settlement had gained a few buildings, but •otherwise there, was no change.

"Howdy, neighbor." The man turned and faced the speaker. Rough and brontsed, fullbearded—perhaps because razors were 'scarce —the newcomer characterised the type of happy-go-lucky and devil-may-take-you miner. "Reckon you ain't heard 'bout that pal o' yourn, have you? Well, yon sec for th' last few days he's bin shin' up to that toe-dancer with th' show. 'Pears like he got taken kinder bad. One of th' boys down th' station this mornin', when th' show left, saw him 'long with that spindle-shanked flaxenhaired critter. I guess he's gone allright," As an afterthought, ho conscientiously added, "But she was a rattling good looker, though."

"Went on the morning train, you say?'" His thoughts stubbornly refused to concede ;my definite perspective and lie parried for time. "Yep. And here's a letter he left to th' post office for you." "Even in the short space of time that had, elapsed, curiosity had got-the linttor of discretion —if there had been any —for tlie missive that be took from bis pocket was smudged with the marks of many finger prints. Curiosity had recognised certain bounds however, for the seal of the letter was still intact. Perhaps they feared the man at the end of Five Mile Pass. "Thank you."

Rough and unpolished though the character of a man may be, yet there is universally that curiously intangible sub-sense which respects another's grief, and perchance it was the pitiful grief of a strong man that caused the other to silently retrace his steps, and soon pass out of sight.

It is the irony of fate that in the stern pulsation of time there is no gift of clemency, whereby the moments of our deeper griefs might shorten their harsh periodic record, and our moments of pleasure lengthen that relentless trick which so unfailingly ushers in the memory of yesterday and the future of to-morrow. But that inexorable master glides calmly over the face of the dial, ticking off equal allotments to grief and pleasure alike; impartial but void of sympathy. So mused the man that evening as the glow of a dying fire played capriciously over his face. His hand lay on the arm of the, chair, his fingers clasped tightly over a scrap of paper. He knew it all by heart, but the knowledge was bitter, bitter as gall.

"Dear Man," ran the heading. "I had thought that lite held nothing better than our friendship. If events had shaped themselves a different course I might still be thinking so. But is it not best that it has come as it did, for now I know that it was hound to come? If I say that it hurts to leave you all alone, you. will believe nie, Man, for it is the. truth; but if I say that I am sorry to go, you will not believe me, for it is a lie. When I iirst knew you T. once tried to lie to you, but it stuck in my throat. T. have never tried since. "I would like to come hack some day and bring the Girl with me, hut it would only hurt you more. I wish that you might forget, hut you are not that kind. I will just say good-bye, Man, and good-bye again.—Boy."

"With a sputter and a-little gasp the last ember died.

There was a. girl with many toes; oh! so many toes," and she danced on, on, on. And there was a large audience, but strange, each face bore n. striking resemblance to its neighbor. Yes, they were all Boys, myriads of Boys;, all, all gazing at the Girl of many toes. Now the Boys were on the stage. No, it was only one Boy, and ! yes, there, was a long-faced clerical-looking individual with a book in his hand. Surely it was not the stage, but a. church, and it seemed as if someone was ringing, bells, yes, wedding bells. And then darkness. '

The Man awoke with a cry of horror and raised his hand as to ward away some spectral presence, the phantasmagoria of a disordered mind. For the. remainder of the night he tossed uneasily. Sleep refused to bear him company; a long lino of Boys passed endlessly before him. Hand in hand, Boys aud Girls, now dancing, now praying; now weeping, would they never rest! He tried to count, now aloud, now silently, but the procession knew no end and he ceased for lack of strength. As the first ray of light filtered through ii cover'bf low-banked clouds it found the man hard at work, swinging a pick with the strength of ten. And so it was for day after day imtil there came a day when the calm succeeded the storm, and in place of a. fevered haste there slipped in a methodical repose, a repose utterly lacking any ambitious incentive; almost a surrender to the apparently all-ending buffets of fate. It was Indian summer, the frail and gentle span between the first touch of 'winter and the biting severity of December chill. The Man had worked incessantly. Ho lay back in his chair and contemplated a bit of ore in his hand, and then drew out a well-worn paper from his pocket —the Boy's letter. "It's a pity," he muttered, "a solid six-inch vein of the real stuff and only my. poor carcase to make use of it. I felt like some Prince of Arabian Nights when I uncovered it this morning.' ' He laughed half-heartedly and dropped the letter to the floor. A little eddy of 'wind swept in through the window and whirled it elusively around his chair; then, weary of tempting him to pursuit,,, swept it swiftly out the open door. ' ,

The sound of tearing paper grated harshly on the silence. The man glanced up. The Boy stood on the w threshold. Bits of paper flurried idly down to the floor. "Hello."

"Hello, -Boy." ' "I've come back to stay." He shifted uneasily, but that hungry look in Lis eyes came from the depths of his soul. '

i' "Yes, Boy, I've been waiting." Two large tears stole down his bronzed cheeks, but there was only joy in his eyes. He smiled. - .And the playful, wind, as it caught Tip the tattered'shreds of paper,-won-dered; why two people, clasped hands so earnestly■■./when Nature bid the world laugh and pla.y. ,^