The Wrong Sex.

Otago Witness, Issue 2735, 15 August 1906, Page 68

The Wrong Sex.

By F. DA. C. D« L'lsut.

(All Right* Reserved.)

That Maddingley Marchand was a magnificent rider nobody in the colony could deny. Times without number he had per* formed almost impossible feats of horsemaoehip, that were credited by the public only because of the number of witnesses who had happened to be present upon the several occasions when Marchland had displayed his extraordinary prowess in the saddle. The races he had won by sheer superiority in the pigskin or by excellent and wonderful judgment of pace and condition were only equalled by the artistic and lightning Hash finishes of Digby Cleveland, the only othei amateur rider in New South Wales who could ride him 'home a dead heat at even, weights. But Cleveland had one invaluable advantage over the brilliant, thongh erratic, Marchland, inasmuch as he never rode for the gallery, which Marchland delighted to do. In fact, most of bis desperate deeds were done oat of pure bravado, and only for tie sake of notoriety. But suddenly a change came over this reckless, galloping devil of a cavalier. He ceased his neckrisking performances for paltry wagers, and .only upon very important occasions did he -don the colours and condescend to delight the race-loving public with his brilliant efforts on horseback. And the reason was this: Jack Bruce, of Cooya, had been breeding some real clinkers of racehorses on his run out of his imported English mares by his Australian horse First King. He had a magnificent three-year-old named King Lear, by First King — Rosalind, and he asked Maddingley Marchland to ride the colt for him at the Danefield Downs steeplechases. Marchland made his first appearance in the Cooya district when he had . the mount on Bruce's flyer, and he won the Sires' Cup on King Lear by half a length from Doughty Deeds, the Tasmanian 'chaser, ridden by M'Nulty, the cross-country professional jockey, par excellenot w. the whole of the colonies. ♦ It was a glorious race, and its memory lives in the annals of the Cooya stable to this day. M'Nulty rode for all he was worth, but the superb judgment of the amateur at the critical moment gained him a we-H-earned victory. Polly Bruce, Jack Bruce's pretty daughter, witnessed the race. She knew more about racing than ninety -nine women out of a hundred know. She admired th? splendid horsemanship of Marchland, hut she admired the man himself more, and she fe'i desperately in love with him. When Marchland returned to Cooya with the victorious King Lear, he was delighted to find that his fortnight's visit to the station was not to be on« deadly dull routine of morning gallops, fortnightold weeklies, plug tobacco, and quiet exercise rides in the evening through the solitary bush. Polly Bruce nearly took his breath away by her dazzling beauty and aplomb. She wa6 different to the ordinary shy bush hoyden. There was nothing shy about Polly Bruce. After Marchland had been introduced he took quiet stock of Jack Bruce's handsome daughter. Polly Bruce was about two-aud -twenty v-ears of age, with a free, dashing style, acquired bf much riding, hunting, fishing, and shooting in the back country. She was tall, with a beautifully supple figure, and her dark eyes were dazzling and dangerous. She was a brunette, with an olive skin, soft and creamy, with cheeks like "claret and cream commingled." Her brown hair was curly and crisp, and of magnificent length. Her brown eyes were liquid and large,, sometimes dancing with mischief and fun, at other times almost black, when she was in a more sober or a sadder mood. She laid open siege to Marchland, and magnified him into a hero when speak- • ing of his race on King Lear. Marcbland was never averse to flattery, and the intense homage of this beautiful bush Diana was very pleasant to him. The fortnight passed all too quickly. But Jack Bruce had taken such a liking to Marchland that he offered him a lucrative position on the station, which Marchland promptly accepted. So he became a fix- ' ture on the run. The usual sequence followed. Polly Bruce became a part of fcis station life, and Marchland was accepted as her acknowledged lover. Then was Polly Bruce in the seventh heaven of bliss. Her passionate soul had hungered for the love of this handsome, daredevil horseman, and when he became her captive her joy was complete. Now ' Marchland, in spite of all his mad riding exploits, was very much of a dreamer — a visionary. Woman, to him, was a sacred, a pure and holy being, deserving of all the veneration and love that a true man is capable of Therefore, he made a ' supreme idol of Polly Bruce, and became, so far as his own personal conduct was concerned, another man. People did not near any more of the mad exploits of Marchland in the saddle. He did not hazard any more risky or dangerous adventures. Only when it was absolutely necessary to ride for the Cooya stable or to school a young horse over the jumps did Marchland take any risk at all. He became « steady, thoughtful man, doing his work well and consistently, and devoting himself to the girl he loved so well. Of course, this new phase in his character was Aery pleasing to his employer, ' Jack Bruce, who thought the world of him. To anyone who ventured to disparage Marchland and describe him as • hare-brained maniac, Bruce's invariable answer was : "Nothing of the sort! He's as levelheaded and sensible as any man I know. And he's a gentleman, too. His manners, education, and appearance prove it. There's not his equal as a horseman in th« i

colonies. He shall marry my Polly and have half the run!"

And the course of things pointed very much that way. Polly Bruce, with the novelty of a passionate lover's adoration filling her existence, was for the time being content to share the dulnees of station life in the society of Marchland. Only very occasionally did they attend a picnic, dance, or race meeting. Marchland himself hated society, and Polly Bruce gave way to him in his desire for seclusion.

For three months life at Cooya was full of brightness and joy to Marchland and Polly Bruce. One day the mail brought a letter from Sydney for Marchland, which he showed to Polly and her father. It was from his brother Anthony, who had just come out from England. " In the letter Marchland announced his intention of joining his brother at Cooya for a few days. Jack Bruce promptly signified his pleasure at th>£ visit, and Anthony Marchland received a cordial welcome to Cooya. When he arrived the district found him a second edition of Maddingley Marchland, only younger, fresher, and more polished. He had not dragged out 10 years of existence in the Australian bush among all classes of society. Anthony Marchland was voted a decided acquisition to bush society, and the various townships and stations vied with each other in their efforts to make things pleasant for the newcomer. Hardly a week passed without some kind of gaiety, and the Cooya party enjoyed ' a continuous round of race meetings, picnics, cricket matches, tennis parties, and dances innumerable. Owing to this Polly Bruce and Anthony Marchland were thrown continually into each other's society, and when Maddingley Marchland was away with the Cooya racehorses his brother was frequently the sole escort that Miss Bruce had.

At Christmas Maddingley Marchland went down to Sydney with King Lear to rid© him in the Grand National. His brother remained at Cooya, urged by Jack Bruce and by many surreptitious glances from Miss Polly's flashing brown e3'es. For a fortnight Maddingley Marchland remained in Sydney. He won the Grand National on King Lear, and picked up one or two handicap events. Then \e turned his steps homewards, taking in the Orange and Bathurst race meetings on his way.

It was exactly a month and a day when Marchland returned to Coova with the victorious steplechaser Kins; Lear. He made straight for the house, leaving the lad to stable the racehorse. It was twilight, and a glorious summer evening. With a light heart he crossed the verandah and entered the house. There was no one about except the housemaid, who informed him that Mr and Miss Bruce were out in the paddock with Mr Anthony Marehland. He had a wash, tidied himself generally, and sauntered out into the home paddock with a beating heart to meet his loved one. He reaJlv was pining to see her. After walking on for <& minutes or so he reached the top of a small hill. Almost the first thing he saw from his elevated position was the recumbent form of jolly Jack Brure, on a grassy knoll, where he lay smoking a cheroot with the abandon of perfect enjoyment. Of Polly and his brother, MarclJand could see nothing. He walked down the hill towards the reclining figure. A small fringe of eucalpytus scrub lay in his path. To reach Bruce he had to cross through it. The crisp, brown grass deadened the sound of his footsteps as he approached the scrub. A yard from the bushes he stopped, spell-bound. He saw Polly Bruce, his plighted wife, in Ids brother's arms- They were on the point of exchanging a kiss when he caught sight of them. The next moment he had left them far behind, wandering away he knew not where. He returned late at night, and, remaining in the barracks provided for visitors, he sent a message to his brother. In two minutes Anthony Marchland joined him, eagerly coming forward to take his brother's hand.

"Stop!" The stern, low tone drove a chill to Anthony's heart. "Do not play the hypocrite, Tony; I have discovered all! Why have you turned traitor, and stolen my promised wife from me?"

"What do you know?" asked Tony Marchland, as he convulsively gripped the edge of a table near him.

"I know that you have been a traitor! You bave dishonoured yourself; you have dishonoured my promised wife, and you have dishonoured the good name our father gave us. What have you to say?" asked Marchland, as he stood towering over the bowed figure of his brother. "This" — and the weak voice quivered painfully — "I have loved her since I first saw her, and I held her as sacred to you until I found that she loved me. I ruined my soul for her love. I know the full force of my dishonour, so don't mention that. Only say what you are going to do."

There was a long silence, which was at length broken by Tony Marchland's last words :

"What ate you going to do?" "I am Roing to leave you here, Tony. I am— going — away," answered Marchland in a low voice. The quiet tones came mournfully as he went on : 'I will go away, and you can marry her. Evidently she prefers you. Wliat a <hamoleon love is! Feeding on air! The uncertain glory of an April day ' You hnve behaved badly to me, Tony, but I forgive you, lad ; I know you could not help yourself. Shake hands, for we will never meet again." "No, don'f go! Don't go! Maddingley — my brother — stay! I will go. I am

a cvr — a traitor. I will pass out of her life altogether, and she will love you again."

Tony Marchland clung to his brother's arm as lie stammered out the words, an agony of bitterness in his voice. "That is impossible, Tony," replied Marchland gently. " The mischief is done. You should have reflected before. Good-bye, Tony. Mind you make hei happy." So saying, he wrung his brother's hand and passed out of his sight for ever.

The younger man flung himself upon one of the camp beds in the room, sobbing : "Oh, Maddingley, Maddingley, don't go!" But his brother heard him not. Mounted on his best hack, he was plunging headlong through the bush, heading north-west, direct for the Queensland border.

Words would fail to describe the rag* of the old squatter when he discovered the heartless conduct of his daughter. He wrote letter after letter to Marchland, begging of him to return and marry the young vixen at once ; but all the epistles were returned from the Dead-letter Office. Jack Bruce stormed at his daughter like a tornado, and forbade her, under the direst penalties, to see Tony Marchland, o- to hold any communication with him whatever. At iheir last interview he treated Tony Marchland to a very uncomfortable quarter of an hour. After abusing him roundly for his unfair conduct towards his brother, he wound up by declaring that Tony should never be any son-in-law of his, and concluded the interview by unceremoniously ordering him off the run.

As no sign of Marchland could be found in spite of the most strenuous efforts on the part of old Bruce to discover where hs had gone to, the old squatter left Ccoya in charge of an overseer, and cleared out of Australia with his daughter on a lengthened tour through England and the Continent of Eurooe. There is a wild and erratic, though most brilliant, horseman up in the Gulf country of Northern Queensland, wbo strikes wonder into the minds of his bush companions riding after wild cattle and buffalo. He wins all their trophies in the amateur races held round about, but he will never ride a mare. He has an insurmountable objection to the sex, and when asked to ride a mare his invariable answer is :

"No, thank you; never! She's the wrong sex!"