SHORT STORIES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3331, 16 January 1918, Page 58

SHORT STORIES.

BIRDS~ NOT OF A FEATHER. By A. H. Bbemner. It is certainly remarkable, yet by no ,neans uncommon, that when two men are thrown together by some caprice of tortune their natures are frequently so "diversified as to be best described by the Did idiom "as different as black from white." The old adage that "birds of a, feather flock together" does not hold half the truth it is credited with, and if there were required more examples to verify this statement beyond those of which the reader has a personal knowledge, this story would serve as one. Two such men sat under an avocado tree in one of the streets of Papeete. They were absolutely and utterly down on their luck. Their clothes, which had once been white, were sadly frayed, and showed unmistakable evidence of long estrangement from the laundryman. Their last franc had been drunk that morning, jind the prospects of earning more were so remote as to be quite beyond their vision. There was not much danger of starvation, lor Tahiti is liberal to prodigality with aer many fruits, .so there was no cause for worry on that score. But what did cause them not a little uneasiness was the knowledge that they were impecunious drones in the community—a class not long tolerated by the officials of that tropical Utopia. Yet, . with that nonchalance natural to men to whom such a position vas by no means a novelty, they refrained rom "grumbling, and took comfort from •he forlorn and unreasoning hope that "something would turn up." So strong was their conviction in this that it might have been of them that Pope wrote,

" Hope springs eternal in the human breast." This blind sanguinity has been the sole sustaining power of everyone in like positions since the days of the Prodigal Son. Collins, the taller of the two (tetat about thirty, a year or two the other's junior), in spite of his dilapidfction, still bore traces' of refinement and breeding. His £ace, though badly in need of the attentions of a tonsorial artist, was goodlooking, with an expression frank and , Dpen—a face, in fact, to which one would T take an immediate liking. When he ipoke, which was seldom, his voice was feasant and well-;modula(led, and his language refined and correct. Not at all the kind of man one would expect to find penniless and unemployed, a beachcomber on a South Sea Island. In everything but good looks, his companion, Jackson, was almost his exact antithesis. His face, too, was handsome, but in a bold,- sensuous fashion, and jacked the refinement of the other. Misfortune had not denuded him of the • gay Lothario, air he loved to assume, and which years of practice and artifice had made part of him. A born actor, his histrionic powers were, however, unable to extricate them from their present unenviable predicament. While Collins ran straight as far as his poverty allowed, Jackson was unscrupulous to a.dsgree, and his tricks to raise money drew frequwnt remonstrances from his companion, although an open break between them was always avoided. Theirs was a strange camaraderie, and not seldom did Collins wonder why he continued the association with the man at his -ide. But frequently though he asked himself the question, no satisfactory answer came. They were companions in distress, pieces of human flotsam on the

Sea of Adversity, jettisoned from the snip of Prosperity, on whose decks was no room for incompetent idlers. Truly, , adversity acquaints us with strange bed- ,- fellows. But the trait which Collins found hardest of- all to put up with was the other's continual and everlasting boasting. He was the Prince of Bombasts, the King of Egotists. Full of plans which he made no attempt to put ■ into execution; everescent with tale 3 and reminiscences in which he himself was the chief actor, and, of awkward situations from which he invariably emerged triumphant, to the complete and utter confoundation of all opposition. Sometimes, when the incompatibility of these stories with Jackson's present position struck him, Qollina was more amused than anything elso Again tho eternal " nkit-o" drove hin: nearly frantic, and only one recollection held back a burst of angry denunciation. That recollection was" the fact tint Jackson had once saved his BfvOno night he fell over the ivh ■■ ■ ■•" ,ifc Papeete-«ln.uik, of course: it would not have happened if ho had been I,;!);-.--and Jackson, upon whom liquor had not nearly so potent an effect as it had upon feis more sensitive comrade, plunged in, :ully clothed and in tho darkness, and saved him. It wes net so much the saving of hia life—Collins put no great value on his own existence,—but the fact that to save his the man had been willing to risk his own made him listen unprotestingly to the other's idle gossip. "Birds' of a feather flock together?" Tho reader will agree with me that this, case i 3 the exception th,at proves the rale. A Bevy of native girls passed by, resplendent in their variegated dresses, and cast curious glances at the two whites. Jackson winked and waved his hand with exaggerated gallantry. The girls giggled and went on. Jackson's eyes followed them up the street till they passed from view. "Don't you wish you were a nigcrgr?" he asked, his gaze still in the dirwVion the girls had taken. Collins made no immediate reply, fik, too, had watched the girls out o'f sight, and one could almost fancy that to his mind also some such wish had presented

itself. " Well, no," he replied at length. " I cannot say that I have any desire to change my colour —not permanently, at any rate. At present, though, I will not deny that such a change would not be without its advantages." "They're not- bad sorts,-the niggers here," Jackson went on, " not half bad sorts. Now, if a fellow had only a bit of the needful he could have a real good time with them. They have nothing of the stuckupness that is the chief characteristic of the whites."

Collins did not consider a reply necessary. To him it seemed that- the last atom of respectability had been cast off when a white man became ashamed of his colour.

A carriage rolled by. An old lady and a girl of about twenty-five reclined luxuriantly in the seats. As the vehicle passed Jackson gave an exclamation! of surprise. "A stunner, eh?" he gasped, giving Collins a strange look. The latter, too, had noticed the girl's face, refined and exceedingly beautiful—a face, in fact, that broke in upon his exile from agreeable companionship like a gleam of joy from another world, remote, far-distant, and quite out.of reach, faSbinating and bewitching. And with its passing came the full realisation of the darkness, the oblivion of his present life. Brought-up among just such people as this girl probablv associated with, fondled and caressed in the lap of luxury, every want anticipated, furnished with the "wherewithal to fulfil every desire. And he had come to thi3. An outcast from decent society, a pariah, a plebian wanderer,looked down upon and-shunned by those whose society he would have at one time considered beneath- his notice! Not that he exactly sought it now. That' amount of self-respect and independence was left him that *he cringed; to nobody, asked favours from nobody. He had simply surrendered unconditionally to Fate, and subjected his will to her decrees. Time itself would work out the enigma of existence. And all this, not on account of any crime that had been his, but simply because he was a spendthrift, an idler, a prodigal, a ne'er-do-well. Disappointment had blighted his hopes, and he had thrown himself unresisting into the centre of the Flood of Life. Whither it bore him he knew not, and cared less. Jackson was speaking again, and the interruption to his reverie came almost as a relief. "You saw that woman?" he asked. " Which?" "The young one." / " Naturally I did." " Well, I was nearly engaged to her once."

A strange look of incredulity came over Collins's face. Surely Jackson was carrying his boasting too far. The other noticed the expression. " It's a fact," he hastened to assure him, a ring of triumph in his tone. To command interest, to create a sensation was the culmination of his ambition. "I'll tell you the story." Collins knew that this was coming. The incident would furnish Jackson with another opportunity for vaunting his prowess with the opposite sex, upon which he prided himself more, perhaps, than upon any other of his soi-disant attainments.

" Her name is, or at least was—for she may be married since,—Nellie Ritson,"' he commenced, "I met her in Sydney some years ago. As you have seen her for yourself, there is -no need for me to describe her, and you can imagine how ea«y it was for me to fall in love with her. In fact, it was a case of love at first sight. I secured an introduction. Parenthetically I may remark that I was not then in such circumstances as you and I at present, unfortunately, find ourselves.

" I could see that she took an immediate fancy to me in spite of the engagement ring she was wearing. But.the fellow was away in New Zealand at the time Qji a businesss trip, and would not be back for at least three months. So I at once started to improve the shining hour. The first thing to be done—-and if ever you find yourself in a similar position I would advise you to follow my lead—was to put her off the other fellow. His name, 1 discovered, was Harvey Bartlett. I made inquiries about him, and one thing in his history, a trip to this very place, Papeete, struck me as giving of being useful, so I decided to turn it to advantage. " I put it about among her friends that I had known him here, and told some rather spicy fables of his doings in this little paradise, wdiere every prospect pleases as long as your money hangs out. My object in all this was, of course, that they should reach her ears. Knowing, as I suppose you do, the rapidity with which such tales circulate, you will conclude correctly that it was not long before this happened. Meanwhile, I made love as ardently as I considered safe. " Then she asked me point blank about what she had heard. Following my formulated plan, I made a show of putting her off and trying to shield Bartlett. As I anticipated, she demanded to be told all that I knew, and with much \ostensible reluctance I did so. She was, I believe, more cut up than she let me see. "'You knew that I was, engaged to him?' she asked. " ' Yes,' I replied. " ' Then why did you not come and tell me what you knew of your own accord?' " 'lt would have been the proper thing to do,' T answered, 'but I could not, for the life of me, bring myself to convey to you news that I felt would cause you uneasiness or unhappiness. Love's yoinig dream,' I waxed eloquent, 'is a sacred thing, a thing that no one would wittingly destroy. However, now that you have asked me to tell you what X Jjnovr of Mr Bartlett, I feel relieved q* any responsibility I might otherwise hVve felt. Believe ' me, Miss Ritson, I aw genuinely sorry for you'. However, bowing, as I do, what an unmitigated blackguard this Bartlett is, I must say,

that in regard to the effect my words must have on your future, I am indeed .pleased to have been the instrument, not of causing you pain, but of saving you from marrying a man so utterly beneath you, and so unworthy of-'even so much as a single thought from you.' He paused in his recital and looked to see if Collins was thoroughly appreciative. The listener, disgusted beyond expression at the verbose, and flattering account of the other's sordidness, swallowed his loathing and l gave no sign'.

"The ring disappeared," Jackson continued, "and when Bantlett came back she dismissed him with, a bee in his bonmetf. I had the field to myself, and you can just bet that I made the most of my time. I proposed to her and was accepted. Imagine my joy." He raised his hands in an ecstatic gesture.

"But it was snort lived. She found out something about me not exactly to my credit —I can't think what just now—and I was given as summary a dismissal as poor Bartlett had got. All my pleadings and protestations were in vain. She would have none of it, and was out whenever I called.

"Then, do you know, after she had turned me down my infatuation wore off and I began to feel sorry for Bartlett. Stall, all's fair in love and war, they say. And here I am now," he glanced ruefully down at his well-worn garments, "what? The Lord only knows. But it's queer, isn't it? That after all these years. I should see her again, here of all places. But queerest, and to me certainly more annoying, is the difference of our positions in ; the social scale. "Where are you going?" r ! _ ."" Collins had risen to his feet.

"Look here, Jackson," the said 1 , "I think you and I have com© to the parting of our -ways. We have been a good while together and have come through some strange scrapes. You saved my life once and I don't forget it. It is the only thing thait prevents me from killing von where you sit." Jackson opened his eyes in amazement and sat upright. "What the devil's wrong With you?" he asked. "Why should the story I have just told you make any difference between us ? I know that I acted a mean part, but in the end I gained nothing by it. git down. Why should it make any difference between us?" "Just for this reason," replied Collins, standing over him, his face livid with rage, "because I happen to be Harvey Bartlett." And without another word he turned and strode away. Which is why I remark and my language is plain that not always do "birds- of a feather flock together."