MATES.

Otago Witness, Issue 2690, 4 October 1905, Page 90

MATES.

By. Outcast.

(For the Witness.)

They were mates together. Jack was the elder of the two. Jim was, you may eay 4 a 1:oy, though he, too, declared lie was over 23. But he had such a boyish face that somehow I jouldn't look upon him as a man. They had taken on a contiaet, cleaiing about 500 acres of ihe heaviest timber it has ever been my lot tc- see. I may as well say h.ere, mates, that 1 was cook, for when things were ready eight men were to join us. We had just got the tents all snug, when Jack clean surprised us by saying, "The hor?e has cleared." He was right, for in our hurry to get the tents pitched, we ha failed to see that she had slipped the rope. We had brought three horses with

us, but had- sent two back to bring up supplies when the other men came. What could we do, 16 mi'es from the township, with not a house between. The horse would have to be found, for we had only tucker for a week at the most, and the other men would not be up far a fortnight. To make things worse, rain was coming on Jack was for starting straight away, but it would hav^ bei&n madness to tiy to follow her, with darkness already creeping down. We argued with inm r and at last he decided 1 to wait till morning before setting out. Morning mine, and with it the rain — a steady, drizzling -"-am. "It's no use waiting any longer, boys," lip said, "this rain might hang on for weeks. She won't have strayed far, and with, the ground wet a bit, there'll be a better chance of finding her. I'll be back I suppose before night, so see and have a good tea ready." Away he went, mates, but at night he had failed to return. I could see Jim was a bit anxious, for time after time he v/ent to the door, only to come back to the fire disappointed. Once ho thought ho heard a voice, and called me out, but ib was only the scream of some far-off fox. "I suppose he's all right, cook" — they always called me that ; — "perhaps she's strayed a bit far, but it's a bad night to be out in." "Aye, it's a bad night, Jim," I answered, "but he'll get back all right. Perhaps we'd better sit up, though. . He's bound to be tired and hungry when he does come." Hour after hour we sat listening, expecting every moment to hear the beat of the horse's hoofs. But no ; when daybreak came Jack was still abeeait.

"It's queer, cook; I reckon there's some thing wrong, unless perhaps the horse has made for home."

Jack was a married man, mates, and had a little house on the outskirts of the township. "If she has he ought to get back by 12 at the latest— h e-'ll know we're anxious. If he's not back then — but we'll see."

The rain had by this time cleared, and for an hour or two it held off. But at 2 o'clock down it came harder than ever.

"It's no good, cook. I can't rest,*' Jim said to me- "You- stay and look after things, and if Jack comes, tell him I was uneasy. It's no use taking the short cut, for he didn't go that way. I'll get a hack to ride back. But I can't help thinking there's something ■wrong." Off he started. Lord, mates, things did seem creepy! Nothing to relieve the monotony. A «veird stillness all around broken only by the' constant drip, drip, of the rain falling from the trees. And the glof«m ! Ough ! I was glad when night came to shut it out and get to the fire. But them I couldn't pest: there was cause now for anxiety. Truly it was no night <for, man to be out in. Still,' I got sonid ccnsolation from the fact that vho tracks would be well liigh impassable. That would account for Jack being delayed, for, mates, I couldn't bring myself to believe that there was anything -wrong with him. To sleep was impossible. Surely they would ariive &oon.

The misery of that night I should not like to gc through again-. Towards moining, through, I must have dozed off, for I was startled by a voieu outside. Yes: th&v had returned. I raked the fire to-

gethcr, and togged on more logs, just as Jack burst in, vet but smiling, at the tentdoor. "Where's Jim?" wer& the first word? I said.

"Jim? In bed, I hope — where everyone ought to be in weather like this. I got stuck for hours down there in the gully ; blest if I don't think the short cut ud have been the cleanest." —

It was a while, mates, before I could get liirn to believe that such was not the case — that Jim was away. However, there could be no cause for anxiety now. For Jack had bad to follow the horse right horns to tUe gate. And of course we argued, mates, that when Jim got there all would be right. Ifc came out later that Jack's missus had, for fun, told Jim. that Jack liad not been home. Poor Jim had told her that some thing must be wrong, but she had only laughed at him, knowing, of course, that Jack was by this time safe at the camp. She bad given Jim a horse, and away he had riddem, saying, "I'll take tho «hort cut, though it's none too safej and if there's anything wrong I'm bound to find out, for I came down the long way except for the little piece at the gully, and no one could pass that."

Jack's missus had got frightened at Jim's words, "It's none too safe," and had cabled cut to Jim, but already he was out of heaa-ing. Two days went pass, and Jim had not arrived. Jack amd I were laughing over the whole thing, but, mates, when at 3 o'clock of the third day there was still no sign of him we decided to set out, one by each road, for Jim had said he avouM come straight back after leaving the township. The track from the camp was straight for about a mile, theai branched o>ff. Jack decided to take the short way. And I had just started up tlie hill, when I beard a loud Coo-e-e-e. I went back, mates, and there was Jack bending over the unconscious body of poor Jim. The roots of a tr^e had! become loos&ened by the rain, and the trunk, falling, had struck him ofi his horse. He was lying only about a mile from the camp. We carried him down and did all we could for him. We had the doctor up, mates, bat Jim could not be shifted. He lingered fir two clays, then regained consciousness. The flist words he spoke were — "Is Jack here?" — "Yes, Jim, what is it?" — "I'm going, Jack, I can feel it : open the door." The cold grey light of a. winter morning stole in at the open door and faintly lit up the dying man's bed. "Jack, Jack, so long, old boy. The Blue Peter's hoisted; I'm sailing £u,j>. go long— the. short out did, it II 1 *