WHEN WAYBACK WENT A-COURTING.

Otago Witness, Issue 2661, 15 March 1905, Page 86

WHEN WAYBACK WENT A-COURTING.

I Br Chaei.es Oscar" Palmer. I

It is a desolate day. J?he clouds, low and heavy, are driven rapidly from range to range ; the manuka and tankinau, drenched and dim, bend> beneath the heavy rain, and sway in the bitter wind. Beyond the scrub, below the ferny bluffs, the flooded, yellow liver tosses its turbid wave«. Dad sits at the window, and looks forth on the desolate hills. Lily is tired of holding up her chubby toes to hear the story of the "little pig that went to market," so she slides from his knee ro join Ted and Kate in their romp in the little back bedroom, and dad falls to musing of other times. Six years ago! How rapidly the time goes by ! It was just such a day as this. The weight of brooding clouds and heavy rain- became unbearable. H-e thought of his little girl far away in the township, looking forth from the window, and wondering -whether he would come. He tried to compose himself with the solemn melody of Milton's "Lycidas" — Alas! what boots it with incessant car© To tend the homely, slighted, shepherd's tiade. But ever the deep, trustful blue of her wistful eyes was before him, and solitude became unbearable. Buckling on his leggings and oilskin coat, and taking the bridle- from the peg, he w.ent out into the flax and tutu to find Dodger. The colt was rightly named. You would scarcely think now, T\hen looking over to the terrace, that the tutu, flax, and fern ever flourished there as it did then. Well, he hunted round) clump after clump of tutu in the pouring rain for two long hours before he found the brute. He cam.-; upon slim at last, with his hindquarters uuiied between two flax bushes. He led the restless, snorting animal up tlnough the ferns and tethered, him at the lee side of the whare, while he went inside to change. His fire had gone out ; and he felt so wretched that he did up hi> Sunday ;lothes in his vaHs,e l strajroed it across the

front of his saddle, and rode away in liia ■working rig. Yet he turned his back ons the desolate selection with an indefinite regret. The old' ewes that staggered froiri the track into the black and dripping fern filled him with compassionate thought, and his last look back to the wliare was with the wish that his dailing might be theie to make the solitude a paradise. So he took the muddy biidle track round by the Karetu, his moke squelching the yellow slush from old hoof -marks over his biisket, loins, and tail, until he looked a sorrypickle. So on for long hours ; bending to elud)3 the rush of rain, or looking aroundi between the showers upon the mountain broom, the scanty tussocks, and the Ftunted, dreary fern. Past the rocky pillars and the desolate peaks, down the long, rain-swept valley to the swollen strea.ni, under the black birches that henfc above its clamour, the eerie haunt of she wayside ghost. Up again on to the ridge, whence, Between the clouds that scurried! before him, he had a sight of the cold, leaden sea, dashing crest.cdi waves against a ci-aggy- coast. So down through tho mahoe and ngaio, hapuka and ake ake to the shingle bed, where foams the boisterous Black-water ; past the clump of lofty blue gums, and far on by the sealaslvd sands. By the rocks and under the bluffs, the haunts of shags and gulls ; by groves of dark-green karaka ; by the delapidatcd whare where lingers the last of the old whalers. A diink of tea would have been welcome, but .he did not care to disturb the old sea-dog. Besides, when one is thoroughly wretched) it is difficult to think of dismounting or stopping in the ! midst of misery that had better continue to the bitter end. Bitter end .' He rose in the stirrups, shook his fist at the hurrying clouds, and his moke plunged forward! by the gravelly track, the tails of a battered oilskin flapping his. foaming flanks. And his rider's fancy was far away in a sunny glade, where, the gleaming grasses and ferns about him and his sweetheart, and the pigeon cooing from the rimu's drooping plumes above them, they sat together and read from "The Ministry of Song" : Soon shall the morning gild The dark horizon's rim; Thy heart's desire shall be fulfilled, Wait patiently for Him. He dismounted and ledi his jaded beast up the rocky track ; mounted again, and jogged round the base of the dark-wooded hill. As he rounded the last bluff the swollen river gave him a sudden, soltmu challenge ; but what was a flooded torrent to Wayback? Dodger slid down the gravelly bank, and was soon shoulder deep in the yellow, hissing waters. The BreaK.well is a swift little torrent, but Wayback was bravely borne across, and "Good old boy !"' encouraged Dodger as he struggled up the shingly bank again. And nsw-for a long canter by the out -station, th.c homestead, and the grange. And then by cosy farmhouse and cottage. So, as the night fell, black, wet, and dreary, past the hotel andi general stor.e into the township. The little girl, peering from behind the curtain into the gloom, was aware that he was stabling Dodger and setting a good feed of warm, dry chaff befor.j him. She was at the door to greet Wayback when he knocked, and who can guess how wretched he suddenly felt when-, dripping, mud-splashed, with damp clothes clinging about him. he stood in the cheery firelightand the blessed light of her welcoming smile. "How are you?" he said. "I have be.en in the saddle- since 11 this morning, and it is well nigh 7 o'clock now. I feel like a change !" Tw.enty minutes later Wayback was sitting with his slippered feet on the hob, and she- was pouring out a. cup of tea fov him. . . H" starts from his reverie and reaches his hand toward the sofa, but there is no responding hand. He looks round, and sees that mother is asleep. "Dear little girl, she is tired !'" he murmurs as he kiss.es her cheek. A tendor smile plays about her mouth, and he kisses her again. Then he walks softly into the little bedroom and whispers to the children not to be too noisy, as mother is asleep.