THE LUCK STONE.

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXVI, Issue 20541, 16 February 1935, Page 22 (Supplement)

THE LUCK STONE.

“ Oh, Dad, you don’t really mean it! ” Ted Doughty gazed at his big. bronzed father with dismay in his eyes. And there was good reason for his dismay, for Mr Doughty had told him the worst news he had heard for many a day. “ I’m afraid I do mean it, Ted,” said Mr Doughty. “ These last two seasons have been so bad that, unless a miracle happens, we shall have to leave Pietsdorp.” Pietsdorp was the farm on the South African veldt where Ted lived. It was miles away from the nearest house, and quite 50 miles from a town; but Ted loved every stick and stone of it. “When?” he asked brokenly. “ Next week, old chap,” said his father, patting his shoulder. “ I owe a lot of money which has to be paid next week or the farm will be sold to pay my debts.’’ Ted lifted startled eyes to him. “Not—not Darkie?” he breathed. “ I’m sorry, Ted,” said his father sadly, “ but I’m afraid Darkie will have to go, too. There, now! You must be brave about it. It’s never too late to start again, you know. In a year or two perhaps I’ll be able to afford to buy you another pony.” “ There can’t be another pony like’ Darkie,” said Ted, biting hard on his lips to keep the tears out of his eyes. ” I—l think I’ll take him for a ride now. Dad.” He ran out of the room because he didn't want his father to see him cry. But the tears splashed down on to Darkie’s satiny neck as he saddled the sturdy little pony, and when he rode at a canter out on to the parched veldt he didn’t know or care where he was going. He had ridden miles before he drew rein on the shelving bank of a dried-up watercourse. “ I wish you and I, Darkie, could do something to save Pietsdorp,” he sighed. “ But if Dad can’t, I’m sure ” Then he broke off, for he had heard a queer sound coming from behind some bushes a few yards away. Slipping down from Darkie’s back, he approached the bushes. Somebody else was in trouble. Yes, for as he parted the bushes he saw an old Kaffir lying there. One glance was enough to tell Ted that the old man was very ill. His lips were black and parched, his ribs showed gauntly, and. except for a pair of cotton trousers, he had not a scrap of clothing.

“ Water, baas,” he moaned, as he caught sight of Ted Luckily Ted had a water-bottle strapped to his saddle. In a moment he had unbuckled it and was holding it to the old man’s lips. “How long have you been here?” he asked, when the man surrendered the water-bottle at last. “ Three days, baas,” was the reply. “ I had left my kraal to see my son, who is the servant of Baas Jorgens, when I lell and broke my ankle. I crawled here, hoping to find water. But, alas! the river was dry!” Ted was a boy who made up his mind quickly. “ Well, you can’t stay here—that's certain. I tell you what. You shall ride Darkie. Mr Jorgens’s farm isn't so far away from here.” Giving the old man his hand, Ted helped him out of the bushes and, after a great deal of trouble, managed to get him into Darkie’s saddle. Then, grasping the bridle, he led the pony towards Jorgens's farm. Although he had assured the native it was so close, the farm was quite three miles away, and Ted’s legs were aching before they came in sight of the cluster of tin-roofed buildings. Suddenly the old man caught sight 4 a Kaffir “ boy ” working on a fence. “ There is my son, baas,” he said. “ Uinbolo is grateful to you, little baas. See. This shall be yours; it is all I have to give. It is a luck-stone. Keep it, little baas, and it will bring you luck.” And, from a tiny skin bag hanging round his neck, he took out a grey pebble and slipped it into Ted's fingers. Ted didn’t think much of it, but he was too polite to say so. Slipping the pebble into his pocket, he handed the old man into the care of his son, and then remounted Darkie. “ Anyway, it might bring luck,” he mused, as he galloped homeward. ” Goodness knows, we need it, and —” He got no farther with his thoughts, for, at that moment, Darkie put his foot in a hole. Down on his knees he went, and Ted, taken by surprise, shot over his head. Bump! Ted hit the ground with a force that knocked most of the breath from his bod}'. Fortunately, he wasn t really hurt, and he scrambled to his feet at once. But Darkie hadn t been so lucky. Apart from a badly-cut knee, the pony had sprained a leg, and Ted soon decided that he would have to walk the rest of the way home. “ I haven’t had much luck so far,” he said to himself, dolefully, as he started on the long tramp, leading Darkie by the rein. He still had several miles to go. and never had miles seemed so long before. It was past dinner-time, and he was hungry. Hot and thirsty, too. And the old native had drained the water-bottle to the last drop. Long before he saw Pietsdrop, far away across the veldt, he was limping almost as badly as Darkie. “Thank goodness!” he sighed, when, at last, he limped up to the stables. “ And there’s Jan,” he added, catching sight of the black house-’boy.’ I’ll get him to look after Darkie. Hi, Jan!” Jan came with dragging steps. Usually, he was all smiles, but now his black features were about as glum as they could be. “Why, what’s the matter?” asked Ted. Jan hung his head. “ Your bunnies, baas Ted. While I I was cleaning out their pen. the big

baas called me to hold a visitor’ll horse. And when I came back, the i cage-door was open, and the bunnies [ bad gone.” “ Arf6 y°u haven’t found them | again?” gasped Ted. j “ No, baas.” That was a hard blow for Ted. He [ was almost as fo'-,d of his tame rabbits as of Darkie. “Oh, dear!” he sighed, as. having given Darkie into Jan's care, he limped up to the house “ Everything is : going wrong to-day. I shan't be able to ride Darkie again for days, and I’ve lost my rabbits. I believe it’s all that wretched stone. It's bringing nothing but bad luck.” ! He was tempted to throw it away, but he decided to give it just one more chance. He went into the kitchen, expecting to find a meal ready for him. But—no! Far from there being anything to eat, Martha, who did all the cooking. was seated in front of the fire, ! rocking herself to and fro. And shj was actually crying ! Ted stood and stared, until Martha, catching sight of him, hurriedly mopj ped at her wet eyes with a corner of [ her apron. [ “You poor boy,” she said. “Turned | out of home at your age! It’s a | wicked shame! To think that toj morrow you'll be leaving Pietsdrop fur | ever.” “To-morrow!” gasped Ted. Martha nodded tearfully. “ Aye. Master’s just been in to tell me,” she said. “He thought we’d be here for another week, but he made a mistake.” Unable to believe that the dreadful thing could be happening so soon, Ted darted to the living-room to find his father. Mr Doughty was sorting through his papers. “ Yes. it’s true enough.” he said, in reply to Ted’s breathless question. “Mr Henstein. the lawyer, hac been over this morning, and—well, we’re to go to-morrow." Ted's face went an angry red. “It’s all that wretched stone.” he burst out. “ It has brought nothing but bad luck." “What stone?” Ted tugged it from his pocket. “ That. I’m going to throw it in the fire, because it's no use at all.” And he was just about to carry his i words into effect, when his father j caught his wrist. There was a strange glitter in Mr ; Doughty’s eyes a tremor in his voice ! as he said quickly: j “Let me look at it. Gracious! j Where did you get this?” He didn’t 1 wait for Ted to tell him. but went 1 on breathlessly, “Do you know what it is? No. of course, you don’t! It’s a rough—diamond. And it’s going to j save Pietsdrop.” And so the Luck-stone brought good 1 luck, after all.