LUCK TONE'S TRAINING.

Otago Witness, Issue 1412, 14 December 1878, Page 21

LUCK TONE'S TRAINING.

A STORY IN SIXTEEN CHAPTERS. (Written for the Otago Witness) By Henry Lapham. ChapterVllL— "Love's Young Dream. '» Day after day Buck came to his friend's hut dreading yet wishing to hear something more of hia plans. But Dick was silent, and as days grew into weeks Buck, with the happy assurance of childhood, persuaded himself that the design was given up. Really Dick had made up his mind to remain where he was until spring, urging "that the roads would be better then and travelling easier," while his sole reason was to defer the evil day as long as possible, fancying that the longer it was delayed the easier it would be. At first Buck was terribly low-spirited, used to mope about the place with, often, red eyes and swollen face, and took no notice of his friend's most playful sallies ; but as the danger lessened his natural gaiety returned, for Buck was a merry little fellow in spite of his weak frame and frequent sickness. Just about this timethere arose a rumour that Miss Jones was going to be married, and Buck appeared more startled and perplexed about it than any one. Of course he had to tell Dick this unprecedented piece of news, and when the evening closed in and the hut was cheerful with lamp and fire light, Dick as usual reclined upon his bunk half hidden in tobacco smoke, and the boy in some corner by his side, then Buck would commence his confidences. " Say, Dick, have you heard the yarn about our Moll 1" " No," replied Dick, indolently. The young lady and her affairs did not interest him much. " Well, she's going to get married." " Nonsense !" " Oh, but she is, honour bright." '•'Who to?' " To Sandy M'Dougall, and I am real sorry for him, I am that; Sandy ain't half a bad little chap." "Why, sorry, Buck? people that a-e going to be married are generally to be envied — not pitied." "Ah, but there ain't many like our Moll ; lor, won't she jest lead him a life avter they're married, you know ; she's as sweet as sugar to him now." (l Well, you're a nice boy to talk like this about your sister, your only sister too." " A blessing there ain't no more of 'em — fancy two Mollys, oh, my gum. Look here, Dick, she's a real bad 'un,"

" Oh, come, Buck, come, have a little mercy." "Well, she is. She's alters telling lies about me to the old man, and getting Kirn riled, but he don't believe all she Bays now, and look here, she don't like you, Dick." "And that is about the worst fault anybody could have in your eyes, eh, my lad? But what have I done to offend the young lady V "Oh, all sorts; once you know she was awful set on you. She used to be allers saying as you was a fine big fellow, and your yaller beard was so beautiful, and your eyes was so blue and so handsome, and your — " "Oh, come, shut up, I can't swallow compliments like that." "But it is all true. Then by-andby she got a sort of cold on it. That was because you never come to see her, and give her presents and sich ; and now she says that you are so set on Lily at The Crown, that you don't know what you're doing ; and she says that she thinks as you two ain't a bit better than you ought to be " " Oh, d n her infernal tongue !" exclaimed the digger, starting up. But Buck reassured him by saying, " Oh, never mind ; every one knows Moll's lies. But, you see, she thought she got you, and of course she's wild that Lily Bhould be the right one." " And who the deuce told you that Lily was the right one ?" "Told me V echoed Buck, with a fine air of disdain; "told me? Well, conaiderin' as I ain't blind and I ain't a fool, I didn't want no telling. Why, ain't you allers going there, and laughing and larking with her ? and if you see her in the street, don't you brighten up, and walk as smart as if " " You infernal young imp," said Dick, with a laugh, "if you go on with any more nonsense. I'll throw you up the chimney. Tell me some more about Moll." " All right ; but I do think you're a little ' shook ' on Lily, old Dick, 'cause when we was there a Sunday " Dick put his broad palm over the boy's mouth, and said, " Now, look here, Buck : no more of your observations, thank you ; you are just a little too sharp sometimes. What about Moll's courtship V "Oh! not much. I didn't believe it till last night, though I knowed they'd been keeping company; but I thought Sandy was fooling her, like the other fellers. But this evening he comes up, all dressed in his Sunday fixings, and asked to see the old man. Boss comes out, and then Sandy begins hummin 1 and hawin', and all his face got, as red as a biled lobster, and he says, " ' Mr Jones, I wanted to see you.' " ' Well, and here you see me,' says the boss. "Sandy jerked about, and says he again, • " ' Mr Jones, I wanted to see you.' "And here I am," says daddy. " Well, Sandy puts his hand first into one pocket, then into another, and at last he begins a-pulling at his collar till it burst, and says he, "'Mr Jones, I wanted to see you.' " ' Now, look here, yoimg man,' said the old feller ; ' either you wants to borI row some money, or you're going to tell a lie ; whichever it is, get it off you're stomach.' " And really, Dick, I did think he was going to be sick, for he give a heave aud a gasp, and says he, " ' I wants your daughter.' "Old man couldn't mako it out, and says he, " « What do you want V "'I want to marry Miss Jones,' says Sandy. " ' flm-m !' says the old man, considering like. "Then Sandy begins, 'Oh, Jones, don't say no ; you don't know how I love her. All I have I'll give her.' (You bet as Moll made sure of that afore she Ist him speak, Dick.) ' I'll work for her, Btrive for her, do anything to make her happy. I know she loves me— Bhe told me so, and I love her, oh ! more than all the world.' "•Well, Sandy,' says the old man, ' that's fine, pretty fine. But if Moll is all you want, take her, I don't care ; and now you'd best shout.' And he did shout for all in the house ; and every one heard of it, and they all is drinking theirselfs blind up there now. And Moll come in, and Sandy (he was pretty well on) goes for to kiss her, but Moll gave him one across the mouth. "'Get away, you blessed jack-asß,' Bays she, and he grinned as if he liked it. "Oh, Lor'! Dick, ain't some men 1 fools V By-and-by Buck announced his intention of staying with his friend all night. " You know, they'll all be as drunk as tigers up yonder, and there won't be no sleep to-night So I'm going to turn in with you, Dick, and you'll play the concertina and sing till I go to sleep." " In fact, I'm to be your very humble servant, and make myself as agreeable as I know how," said Dick, laughing ; " but it's all right, Buck, old son : turn in, and make yourself happy." Chapter IX.— ln the Dead of Night. Great were the preparations for the nuptials of Sandy M'Dougal and Miss Jones. No room in the house was large enough to contain the expected company of guests, so old Jones took down the I partition between the dining-room and parlour, making au apartment large enough to accommodate both dancers and.

ookers on. Tremendous was the slaughter of ducks, fowls, etc. ; huge were the joints of beef, mutton, and pork ; and for twenty-four hours previous to the happy day, most appetising and savoury was the incense that steamed up from this hecatomb to the god of Love. Then from far and near came the wedding guests, for diggers dearly love a thorough spree (and small blame to them). How should a masculine pen attempt to pourtray the bride's wedding apparel! Let it suflice to say, that Moll's— l_ beg 1 pardon -Miss Jones's beauty was height- • ened by the aid of plaits and puffs and 'chignons about her head ; that the wreath and veil were quite correct, and the dress ' too, I doubt not ';' and that in the presence of all the township the minister joined '- their hands, and Alexander Duncan • M'Dougal and Mary Ann Amelia Jones were made one, while the incorrigible Buck whispered to his friend, who was close beside him, "Well, blessed if ever I knowed as Moll has so many names afore, but I 'apose it's all right." Then followed the feast. No mere flimsy pretence of a wedding breakfast, but a full substantial meal to every person, and crowning glory, free drinks for. all ! Then,. when the long room, bedecked frith mapu and broadleaf boughs, with paper flowers interspersed, and blazing ■with light, was thrown wide, the whole v company flocked ih<to the dance. Then, the dance ! Oh, ye feeble denizens ofcity ball rooms, who glide lazily through ', a slow waltz, or walk demurely in ,& grave quadrille, what do you know of the true glories of the terpsicorean art, when ' never in your wildest dreamß, have you .seen aught like the final figure .of a ' 'quadrille as danced this night, when everybody got everybody else's partner and galloped away till' further orders, arid the mad joy of the Highland reel, (locally known as " the war dance ") that shook the walls, and made the very windows rattle, and went on, till dancers and ' .musicians alike sank down exhausted. Then men hurried away to the bar, and ladies sat mopping their crimson cheeks,' arid whispered, with panting breath— ; " Oh, Lor' ! I'm that hot, I oari't'.scarce abide it." . ', : ; And bad they not an orchestra too 1 A capital cornet, two violins, a piano, and a tambourine, not to mention an occasional empty kerosone tin, arid a Jew's harp or „,two,. And they footed it merrily, from „'" evening's earliest shades, throughout the \ long autumn night, unwearied; nor failed . until the violins would play only in fitful ' ; the piano, beginning with Ja ( ', !!jwaltz, would glide unawares into a quick- , step, and finish with something that was " suspiciously like the " Old. Hundredth" ; while the cornet- player, looking in pity, not in wrath, at hisjnstrurrient, fallen to the ground, was heard to murmur pathetically, "Drunk and incapable— drunk and incapable." ■ This was not, however, the end of the wedding festivities, by any means. The wedding had .taken place on. Friday, arid the happy couple. were to' leave for ' "town "on the following Monday. .So on Saturday evening there vwas another dance, scarcely less brilliant than the former." On Sunday, too, there was a fare, well dinner to the bridegroom. Ladies, of course, could not appear on this day, the bride and Mrs Quiri being the only females present. Mrs M'Dougal stayed' as long as it was' prudent ; but Mother Quin, dear hearty soul, remained until she was discovered in deep repose, with her head in a dish of custard, arid even then, was most reluctantly conducted to the kitchen by the bridegroom. But the party dispersed early. By midnight all was darkness and quiet in the hotel. The night was stormy. A wild, fierce wind shook the crazy building to its very foundations. . That night Buck had a strange and ter-' rible dream. He thought he was wander- ' ing through a bush like, and yet unlike,' the one in which he and Dick had passed . : the Sunday afternoon. The' trees greVr ,' thick, with mossy , branches spreading wide, but the gnarls arid knots on the trunks looked like hideous grinning faces ; the twisted root 3 showing above grounjd bore a horrid resemblance ' to creeping snakes ; and what at first looked like withered , leaves upon the ' topmost branches, seemed to change to red and yellow tongues of flame. Suddenly he Baw Dick in the distance. Buck tried to call him, but his voice was weak and thin. Dick kept striding on, and Buck knew in Borne way that he was going away for ever. Then the boy'started in pursuit ; but the tree roots, tripped him, the " lawyers" caught his clothes and held him back, and Dick was getting farther away; The weather, too, was stifling, burning hot, while all the time a wind roared among the branches and drowned his weak crios. He struggled and pulled, but could get no farther on ; but just as" Dick was disappearing in the distance, he managed to scream aloud, and awoke. It was some moments before he could be certain of consciousness, for the dhoking feeling still continued, the strange burning sensation, and the vague, undefined horror that one feels when suddenly ' awakening to the knowledge of danger. But he soon knew the cause : there was something on . fire. He opened his door, groped his way into the passage, where the smoke was thicker, then tried to find his way into the kitchen ; but as soon as the door was ajar, a burst of smoke, hot as from a furnace mouth, struck his face, and he caught a hurried glimpse of a cloud of vapour pierced by quivering tongues of flame. He wisely closed the floor and made, for his,, father 9 room,

which was beyond the bar and had a door oponirig on to the street. Buck shook his father, called him, draggsd. hirri t to the floor, but without awakening him. So with some difficulty he managed to unlock the door, and with tremendous efforts (for old Jones was a fat, heavy man) he got him into the street. There, to the boy's surprise, stood Sandy M'Dougal. "Hallo! Sandy," said Buck, "here's a precious go." But that weakminded individual seemed to have been frightened out of his senses. "Where's Moll?" was the boy's next query. "Oh ! I don't know. I called her, and shook her, but she would not come. You know what she is, Buck : if she don't like to do a thing, Bhe won't." "Don't, like? But she must be got out, or she'll be burned." ' " Oh, yes ; but she wouldn't come." "Well, you best go and lug her out, and look sharp, too." "Oh! no, no; I couldn't go back. Why, we might both be burned. I daren't go back." " Well, you are a nice 'un," observed Buck, with contempt. " I'll go and rouse her up, : and you go and holler ' Fire ' all over the place ; I s'pose you ain't frightened to do that ?" Away went Sandy, bellowing at the top of his voice. ! Buck found his way to his sister's room, and foolishly spent Borne precious minutes in trying to arouse her. He then dragged her towards the door ; but rolling volumes of smoke and crackling flames showed that escape was hopeless by that direction. Buck again got to the window with his burden, and with all his feeble strength he tried to lift her to it ; but the weight was beyond him, and he slipped back to the floor, sick and faint with the terrible J heat and the exertions he had made. ! Dick was the first who was aroused by the cry. When he came to the scene of the fire, his first thought was for Buck ; but having entered his room by the window and found it empty, he concluded the boy was safe, and employed his time in 'getting out the cash box, account books, etc, before the flames should seize the front part of the house. While he was thus engaged, Sandy returned, and to Dick's horror told him of Buck's undertaking. "And why did'nt you go for your wife r "Oh ! I didn't dare, Dick ; I didn't dare ;' and now they'll both be burned." "By — , if they are, I'll break your neck, as sure as your name's Sandy !" and Dick ran round to the window. Buck was just sensible enough to recognise Mb friend's voice and reply in an inarticulate murmur. Dick managed to squeeze his broad form through the window, and first seizing Mrs M'Dougal, threw her (not very gently, it must be confessed) into the open air. Then Buck was carried out into safety. A few dashes of water from a race hard by restored his sense's, and his first cry was, " Oh ! Dick, Mother Quin is there, and she-ll be roasted, sure. Oh, save her, old Dick !" But it was already too late. The unfortunate woman slept in the room beyond the kitchen, and the back part of the house was wrapped in flames. Nor was there even the slightest sign or movement : most probably her death had been perfectly painless. The crowd of men which had now gathered could only look en idly, as the roaring, sparkling element came steadily on ; then when the bar took fire, the burning liquors mingled jets of lambent blue flame with the blaze of crimson aud yellow. The morning sky flushed red in the glow, and the surrounding hills shone brightly. In an hour's time there remained only three bare chimneys, a solitary upright hero and there, and a mass of glowing coals. The " Shamrock Hotel, T. Jones, proprietor," was a thing of the past. {To be continued )