GARIKEE : A MINER'S LOVE STORY.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 2035, 15 September 1874, Page 4

GARIKEE : A MINER'S LOVE STORY.

(Concluded.) The infernal creature took a new hold, and bit a mouthful out of the seat of 017 trowsers, as I sprung on the fence agin, and old Baz and the whole family sot up a reg'lar breakdown laugh, like a young airthquake. "Nance Moore," said I, getting wrathy, " I hope you'll live an old maid all the day of your life; you aintflfc to bake hoecake for ianywhite man 1" I jumped off the fence and 'made the shucks fly under the cowhides, till : I outrun the dog. Jist one week from that i night Nance Moore was married to Squire I Thorn, who owned two sections o' land. ; 1 "What luck, Ambrose, ray son ?" says the old woman, ss I came puffin' into our Cabin like a bio ured badger. I " Luck, mother I look at my pants and see jfor yourself; I'd rather scrimmage with a whole tribe of redskins than git on the trail of one gal." \<s "Nonsense!" says the old woman, "I'll patch the trowsera as good as new, and to- 1 ; morrow night you shall try again." " Lord hare mercy on me, as the man said when he was goin' to be hung !" ; Well, thur was plenty of gals at the settlement, and the old woman wouldn't let me give up the chase, so the next night I left Wolf at home, and went up to see John Barker's Mollie. She wer'Dt up to some 0' the gals in the settlement, but I were knowin' to her droppin' eight acres of corn in one day, and rakin' and bindin' after the cradles in the rye field, so I thought she mought do. Iknow'dold Barker and bis dog were gone 1 away from home, so there war no danger to my pants, but I thought perhaps Molly might have a bo, and of all things it's a leetle ihe meanest a gittin' on a another man's tree when he's watchin' the Lick, so I thought I'd look in the winder and see if any human was staying with the gal, before I went in ; so I : fumbled around in the dark and climbed upon a dug-out to look in. Jist as I was takin' a peep my foot slipped and I come kerflop, head and tail, full length up to the neck in something soft. " Heavens and airth ! what kind of a quagmire am I in now ?" The noise brought the old woman and Moll out with a candle as I war flounderin 1 in the trough. "Am. Swamp— my gracious— what are you duin' thur in my soap ?" ; " A gittin' out just as fast as I can, Miss Barker," says I, scrapih' off the slush from my face and hands. "But how on airth did you come to get there ?" " Why, Miss Barker, to iwn the corn, I come up tv see if Moll thar would except my company, and I got up on the dug-out tutu—" " Tv git soft soaped afore you come in," roared Molly ; 'you can't soft soap me, you varmint, and the sooner you' make yourself scarce in these diggings the better, or I'll make soap grease of your body, ann bile you down to a smaller chunk than you be now ?" " Nuff sed," says I ; " may Ibe tetotally obliterated if I ever try to get on the track of a gal again ; the old woman may die of rheumaty and I'll give up the traps and go raisin' corn myself — aye, and bakin' my own hoecake, and patchin' my own browsers, before I'll ever try to court andther live female woman ; I don't understand the natnr of the game." Didn't I feel streeked. Didn't I feel streeked. Didn't I feel atreeked. Didn't I feel as if I'd peel and put my skin on t'other side out. O, don't. Why I feel so infernal small that I couldn't f oiler the path home, but took it across lota in the dark, to keep out of the ligbt of the stars, in the shade of the rail fences, to hide the blushes from myself. Wai, I got along on old Squire Beach's plantation, when I got- a glimpse o'light from their cabin winder, I shied off and war goin' round th« sheep pon' to git shut of the house, when the first I know'd slap 1 went something with an almighty spring, and the teeth of a double power wolf trap dug into my leg, clean to the bone. " Murder ! murder I— help ! help I—in1 — in the name of all creation I " I shouted. I war

fast as any wild varmint in the tall timber, and oh I didn't it dig ! The squire's dog sot up a yell and flew at me like a streak o' lightin'. The Bquire seized his rifle and the boj's ru9hed out of the cabin . " A wolf— a wolf— geet oat Watch ! I'll pepper the varmint !" " Take care, squire, I'm dead— take care, it's me in the trap ; it's me, squire, call off the dog, and don't shoot !" " It's Am. Swamp," said one of the boys, " I know his voice— don't shoot." "Am. Swamp !" said the old man, coming up, " what on airth are you doin' in my trap? Did you come to steal my sheep ?" , " No, not a single fleece," said I; "open the trap and let me out, and I'll tell you all about it — oh— oh !" They opened the trap and let roe out but I couldn't Btand. (So much for trappin'gals, git trapped yourselves sometimes, boys.) I was much hurt. "Take him to the cabin, boys," said the old man. c< Peter, ran and tell Betsy to get some rags ready to bind up his legs ; John, cross hands with me— there Am. sit down my boy; no matter how you got trapped, we'll take care of you, Am." Now, old Squire was one of the kindesthearted men in the settlement, and somehow he had always stood by me in trouble, and the boys, and always ready to give me and mother advice and help, if we got bothered in the management of our affairs. I always thought a power of him, and I, always liked Betsy, too, but I never thought of makin' up to her, for tbey were our nearest neighbours, and kind of in the family like. But the old man couldn't see how I got in the trap, nor I neither, but I did get in it, and they got me out. Wai, after they got me into the cabin, they laid me on the- bed,! and examined my wound. It was an ugly thing, and the soft soap on my trowsers made it smart orfully. Ohl ,am I'.um'i'iti didn't do anything else! Betsy got some warm water and washed off the blood and! then wrapped a clean white rag round the ! wound— but it ached all night. After it got ' got a little easy I jist told the squire the ; whole thing from beginning to e'end. He couldn't help laughin', nor the boys neither, but I noticed that Betsy didn't laugh, but onst I seed her wipe her eye with the corner of her apron — what for, thinks I ? John got me a suit of his clothes, and Betsy took mino and put 'em in soak, and by daylight next mofhiu' they were washed out clean, and dried by the fire. I didn't go home that night, and mother thought I was having first-rate luck, wondering all the while who it was Ihadcotched,and little dreamin' l was cotched mysel. After a while I got into a doze. When I waked up the house was still, and I thought all had gone to bed. I turned over, when a twinge made me groan. I raised my eyes,: and thar sot Betsy by my bedside a lookiri' at me. May I be shot if I thar warn't a tear.in her eye. j " Why, Betsy, ain't you gone to bed yet ? I It's past midnight," says I, looking up. 1 "No— l ain't sleepy, Ambrose," says flhe ; j"dorityou want a drink ?" "No," says I, "I ain't dry." ; " Well," says she, "go to sleep again, if ;you can." j I 6hut my eyes, but somehow I couldn't i sleep a wink as long as she sot thar, and may I die if the gal 'didn't set thar the whole 'blessed night a watching' on me. She was i always a good kind soul. After breakfast, I the squire took me home on a sled, and it was nigh upon ten weeks before I could put a foot on the ground after" my gal hunt. Betsy Beach used to come over every day to : see how I was getting along — she was so kind hearted, and after a spell I began to expect, and if she didn't come about such a (time my leg ached, I felt riled, scolded I Wolf, and actilly driv him out of doors. ; Think of that, boys — driv my dog, my best ! friend, out of doors, and for the life •' me ; I couldn't tell what for. When she come, !my piller always wanted a little flxin', or the bandage got loose, and, somehow, the little I varmint got the hang 0' flxin' better nor the [old woman, and after a while I got so I wouldn't let the mother dress my leg, no how —she always hurt me, and Betsy didn't. It ■happened one Sunday, when I was gettin' i better, that mother went to meetin' to hear a 1 Methody man preach, and Wolf an' me were keepin' house all alone ; I began to feel ' uneasy like, and thought my leg was growing worse. It ached and itched, and itched and ached, and I felt as if Betsy Beach didn't come to dress it I shouldn't live an hour, when, jist as I felt that I must give up the ghost, the latch-string war pulled, arid iwho should come in but Betsy herself . " Why, Ambrose, you ain't all alone, are you ?" says she, with a smile. " Yes," says I, " nobody here but Wolf and me, and I'm gittin 1 very bad." " Why, where is your mother ?" "Gone to bear the new Methody man preach," says I. "If I'd knowed that I wouldn't have come here,' said she, lookin' kind o' grave.? | " Not came here, Betsy ? Why of all times this is the very time to come. I'd rather see you than the finest deer in the tall timber." , " You don't mean what you Bay, Am.," and somehow the gal looked foolish, and blushed clean up to her eyes. : " I do — my leg feels bad — I feel a kind of alloverness, jist as a man feels when he's lost in a cane-brake — I'm powerful weak." "What can Ido for you, Ambrose ? Shall I fix the bandage ? You know I'll do anything for you," and this was said with such a kind expression and so soft that it took my breath away. My heart began to double shuffle, and it seemed as if my vitals would come out of my throat. " Are you in airnest ?" says I. " Why, Am., what do you mean ?" lookin* in another way. " Betsy," says I — l got rip-roarin' oudaeious in a minute— "l hope I may never walk if you havea't done more to cure my leg than all the 'pothecary shops on airth. But I feel as though I could lift the world. I'm dead in love with you, and if you'll only go in cohoot with me in the cabin fixins and plantation ground, I'll give up coon huntin,' gal ;huntin', and all other huntin' except happinesß huntin, and you and me will settle down for life like two tame turkeys over a pigsty. Will you go the caper ?" What do you think she said, boys ? Not a word. She stood a minute, like a deer stunned with a buckshot, then burst into tears and gave me her hand. God bless that old soap dug-out and wolf trap, for, under Providence, they were the means of gettin' me as good a wife as ever fell to the lot of any human under discouragement, verifying the old proverb that "Disappointment and distress are often blessings in disguise." One week from that day Bessy Beach and Ambrose Swamp were roped together in the undissolute bonds of Hymenius Matrimony ; and, boys, my leg got well before the old woman got back from the Methody meeting