AN URGENT CALL.

Otago Witness, Issue 3168, 2 December 1914, Page 71

AN URGENT CALL.

By Elsie Palmeh.

“ PINKY’S ” LETTER.

Jack Prince, champion shearer, first* class athlete, general good, all-round sort of a chap, was feeling very much at ease with himself and all the world. He had just given a “ fiver” to the Belgian Relief Funds, to use his own words. “It ain’t nothing to make a fuss about. The eheariiT will be here in a jiffey, and to a bloke who knows how to use the blades a ‘ fiver ’ ain’t such a heap; so don’t say no more about it. Just put me down as “A Friend ” on your list. It’s no more than I ought to give to those poor beggars. It’s kind of you to say .so, hut p’r’aps they mightn’t see it in that light.” And Jack Prince had read the letter asking him to take his place that season at Karoo Station, a trifle flattered, maybe, with the note at the foot. “ I should be pleased if you could see your way to come, as we hold that with men such as you the good name of the shed xs always maintained.” “Not a bad sort is Drake,” thought Prince, “not above letting a bloke know his clone his best — a real good manager. I wonder if Pinky will be there; bound to. Won’t I make him run for it. Just about done for me last saason.” That was an hour ago. Now a letter from Pinky lay opened on the grass beside him, and Jack Prince was thinking hard. This was the letter: — “ Dear Jack, —I reckon I’ve got two big ’uns for you. The first is, I was married at ten o’clock this morning ; secondly, I’m not on the shearing lists this year; thirdly, I’m off to the front. 1 reckon that last just about explains the other two. You see, it is like this; I could easy have given up a bit of cheque to any of those war funds, and sat down and let others pay full price; but seems somehow that for me it’s not enough; so when those collectors came round and I came to figure it all out, it seemed a mighty poor price I set on the old folk and all. A ‘ fiver ’ for the right to go ho'me and have a good square feed whenever I felt inclined; for the right to see the old dad and mother cosy-like in their own chairs; to see Bess about the house and hear young, Joe larking all over tho place; to know the cows, sheep, and horses are safe and the old farm secure; to know that the best girl in all the land can go to church or chapel, can come out in the dusk to meet a fellow without let or hindrance —God bless her, Jack! She’s my wife now. No, I figured it all out, and I said to myself, * That’s what those poor devils out there are fighting for. I ain’t no bloomin’ Imperialist, or any of those high faintin’ names. I don’t know if I’m what you’d call a patriot, but I reckon I wouldn’t be much of a bloke to say, “ Look here, I’ll give a fiver to you fellows to go out there an’ be shot, wounded, or anything else what comes along; to have your homes burned and your wives and sister, children and fathers murdered. I’ll give you a fiver to do your level best to save me and mine.’’ ’ Somehow it won’t do. It sorts of sticks; <so I went along and told Nell how I fo!t, and how she’d better hand me back the ring, and reckon herself free, as I was off to the front, and couldn’t ask her to look on me as her future husband, seeing as how the future might be a pretty short one. But bless her, Jack, she up an’ says, ‘No you don’t. Just you go along and get another ring and put alongside of this,’ and I did it. I knew she would, Jack. It does a fellow good to know that in all tbs world one girl _ stands by him, and I reckon when the time comes those are the things what steadies a man and makes him think. He knows about the girl he’s left behind, and it makes him know how the other fellow must feel to see his folk and his old home in ruins. I’m not one to sklte, but it looks as though you’ll not have to reckon on me cutting you out this season. Give old ‘ Pinky’ a thought at ‘ smoko-oh,’ and p’r’aps, as you’re one of the big ’uns in tho shed, you might start a bit of a list to send some money to those poor beggars. lam t got no murder in my heart; but Lord help the German when I look at Nell’s photo and think of what those poor girls have .stood. It ain’t murder; neither is it a wish to have them alive. Well, good bye, old chap. »f I come back you can guess who’ll always" be welcome at the old farm when Nell and I take up residence. If I don’t, and it’s not that I’ve not thought the chances all out. I reckon that in you Nell will always find one who has been a staunch friend and a true mate. — Pocky.” Two telegrams w-ero handed to the local postmaster that day. The first read - “ Cancel shearing engagement. Am oft to the front.t-J. Putnce.” The second ran ;—“ Congratulations. Am joining the force.— Jack.”