PIONEERS OF ’60

Taranaki Daily News, 18 December 1930, Page 12 (Supplement)

PIONEERS OF ’60

- '-’i \ ' ■ • ' (Continued from page. 7.) , As she galloped .up Carrington Road she felt the joie de vivr'e upon; her, thrusting out fear and making.her heart leap exultantly. All Nature seemed touched with the power of Spring. The varying greens of the hills and bush gleamed ' brightly in the simshine, the poignant scertt .of the yellow gorse pervaded the air and the only sounds, that broke the stillness were the rich clear notes of the tui.' Before her reposed Mount Egmont, superbly aloof and unperturbed by the havoc that raged at his foot. What cared he whether or hot a few brown and white pigmies chose to quarrel over some tiny specks of/ land! Would not they all be dead in another miserable little century? As Dorathea neared the farm a cry of dire dismay escaped her. Everything was gone. Around the charred- remains of the sheds and homestead still clung the pungent smell of fire. In the garden where a few bulbs struggled to bloom in the blackened earth lay the remains of her. pet . lamb —dead with 'starvation and grief. , A terrible stillness permeat’ed the atmosphere and, overcome with despair, Dorathea flung herself down on the ground and wept till- her heart seemed as if it would, break. ■>.. Dorathea had failed to appear at breakfast and when, at lunch time she ■was still missing Mrs. Hobbihs became alajmed and rushed out to unburden her fears on her nearest neighbour. lir aiiiHiiimiifiiitiHttiiinHHitiiHittittiiiitttiititittitnttitfttiitiiiii

the street she ran blindly into Captain Munroe. ’ “Oh, Captain,” she wailed, twisting the corner of her apron, energetically, “she’ll be killed! They’ll massacre ’er!” “What’s this ?” exclaimed the captain • sharply. “M-iss ’udson,” quavered, the. woman. “She’s gone—gone to the farm.’’ Captain Munroe did not wait for further enlightenment but sped up the street and three minutes later he was galloping madly out ,of town. For an hour Dorathea lay>on the ' burnt ground finding relief in the utter abandonment of tears. Suddenly a wild yell tore through the silence, re-echo-, ing in the hills beyond. Dorathea sat up abruptly, her eyes widening in terror,as she saw the dark figures of natives moving quietly in a nearby. clump ' of bush'. 'For a moment she gazed around her, vacillating, uncertain, but recovering, her wits, ran swiftly over to an old shed, which, thanks to. the mqrciful dispensation of Providence, had ribt been. destroyed. Just as she reached the shed, 'terrifying yells again rent ■ the air and Dorathea, realised with a sense ‘ of futility that the natives had seen her. Then there was ■ a confusion, of’ galloping hoofs, shots, more shots, and finally footsteps running in the direction of .the. shed. Sickened with fear she crouched against the wall, waiting. The door swung open to reveal the tall figure of Captain Munroe.-He rushed to the window, levelled his rifle and fired at a native not twenty yards away. - With a scream, the native sank to .his knees and fell forward. The other Maoris paused, again Munroe’s rifle rang IHtlltHIIIIIIIHdlHtlltfSIflllMtllllltllfllHIItlttllUKHIIIItlttltlllB;

out and another dropped. Unnerved by the accuracy of the shots, the remaining' six natures retreated to the clump of bush. Silence followed, intense, dramatic. Five minutes later a brown figure crept out but fell back with' a strangled yell as, a bullet entered his heart. Again surcharged silence. Suddenly there was a general discharge from the . natives.' as they rushed forward in a body, but'three dropped, each mortally wounded. The three unwound,ed Maoris stopped short, screamed, brandished their tomahawks and disappeared over the hills. “Phew!” exclaimed Captain Munroe, turning to Dorathea with almost a grin. ‘T think our dusky friends have gone for good. Stay here,” handing her his rifle, ‘‘while I examine the damage tp these gentlemen,”’

Dorothea watched him dazedly as he bent over one of the motionless forms. Behind him one of the supposedly dead natives' began .to 'slowly stretch hie hand in the direction of where his tomahawk had fallen." Tor a moment the girl watched in fascinated horror, but as the native leapt, to his feet she -managed to. scream. Munroe turned and the .native’s tomahawk sank into -hie chest. The force of the blow, brought the captain to the. .'ground and the 'native raised his. tomahawk: to brain him? Dorothea levelled the rifle, fired, niissed,.fired again and the Maori with a groan sank to the ground. Rushing do the soldier- Dorothea dragged his heavy unconscious form down to a nearby creek. Gently • she bathed his wound and bandaged it with a strip of muslin torn from the hem of her'frock. . ‘ “Oh. Dick,”'she cried, holding the cool water to his 'lips, “you mustn’t die ! You mustn’t, die!’’ She put her arms around his shoulders and shook him but he fell back lifeless? A cold terror, far worse than anything she had yet .experienced, began slowly to creep around her- lieart. He was dead! Soon he would be. cold and they would bury him! 'She shivered, sobbing; hysterically. Minutes later, they might have been hours to Dorathea, he opened’ his eyes. “Wily the'; tears?”■ herqueried, smiling weakly as' consciousness returned to 'him.,'' by ?. ■■ ■.■.'? ,? .. ' • Keligf surged into the girl’s heart. . “Oil, Dick—er Mr.—-I mean Captain,” she stammered off into embarrassed silence. . . . ■ ■'■ - ‘‘Dick will do, Dorathea,” ihe smiled, with emphasis' on the last word. “So the blight—er—the rascal -got me, did he?” < . '. Dorathea did not reply, for her nefyes had snapped and she continued, to cry .quietly. .- • s. ' . ’ ' The man struggled to a sitting posture' and putting an arm around her, whispered gently, “What’s the trouble, little woman?” . • • , “Everything,” . filtered Dorothea brokenly. “Papa’s dead, the homestead's gone and—and I’ve been rude and • cruel to you after all your kindness.” “Never mind,” he humoured her. “There’s ’ heaps .of - time ;to make amends.”- '■ > ~ . ■ “No there isn’t,” she replied pettishly, “for I’m going aw’ay' to Nelson.” ‘‘Then don’t go.” ‘ .■ • The girl stopped-crying and eyed him in .astonishment. “But-I’ve got to go! I’ve'nd relations or ties here,”' “Dear, dear,” sighed the man. ,“We must find you some, relations' and ties.” After a pause, “I know, marry me, and they won’t force you to go to Nelson.” , Dorathea gasped, her eyes widening —and alas, also her mouth. The twinkle in ■ the .man’s,eyes died to a steady gravity. “Dorothea,” he murmuredj drawing her close, “when the,war’’is pver-r-and it can’t last much longer—we’ll come right out here and build up the farm once more. Again we'll see the flowers blooming, the crops ripening and again, hear the lowing of the cattle on the hills.”

As his lips closed on hers the murky clouds of the past rolled away and together, with a steady purpose shining in their eyes, the young pioneers gazed into the blue haze of the future.