“Without Defeat”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 79, Issue 168, 20 July 1935, Page 7

“Without Defeat”

A New Serial

fby

Oliver Black)

A Story with a Cali to a Nation

Damsel in Distress. “Here! Wake up!” said All' digging his elbow into Oliver’s ribs. Oliver roused himself from the doze into which he had fallen. • ’ \\ iiat is it?” he inquired. ‘•There’s a lady in the road!” A little way ahead a small car was standing by the side of the lung straight road which ran over low-lying marshy country stretching far into the distance. Beside the car stood a woman waving her arms. Alf drew up behind the car and the lady approached. Hhe was 23 or 23. Her hair was a deep bronze and cut in an old-fashioned bob. •She was wearing a brown tweed coat and skirt. A pair of gray eyes, set wide beneath a high brow, laughed up at him. “I’m so sorry,” said the gird, ‘‘but I’m in an awful mess. ” Oliver jumped down beside her. He

I adored girls iviio laughed with their ■ eyes. I “What the trouble?” he asked. “My car's conked out. and I’m afraid I don't know much about the tnsid-c of cars. Do you';” “Absolutely nothing.” answered Oliver cheerfully. “Here, Alf, this is your. job. ’’ “U.K.,” .-aid Alf laconically as he climbed down from his svat. “What's ha ppened? ” “•She just stopped and 1. can’t start her again.” • Alt took off his coat and lifted the bonnet of the car. Oliver and the girl sat on a gate opposite. ‘Ate you going far”’ asked Oliver. “Palmerston. And 1 simply must get there this evening.’’ “Don't worry. The excellent Alt will doubtless fix your car in a mo’inent. Do you smuke#” “Thank you. It was kind of you to stop and help, Mr. er ” “The name is Oliver, but withu-ut the ‘Mister.’ Ami you, Miss er —’’ The girl looked at him and smiled. ‘‘The name,” she said, “is Mary, but without the ‘Miss’.” Oliver regarded her with frank admiration. “Well said; .1 sec that this little encounter is likely to prove refreshing |0 both cf us. And only a short while, ago I was wondering what manner of adventure would befall me to-day.” “Do you often have adventure-?’’ asked Atary in amusement. Oliver sighed. ‘‘Very • Ite’-i. 1 had a whole chapter of them yesterday. And to-day . . . . well, what more could 1 ask?” “You know you arc a very absurd person!” said Mary. Alf appeared from the bonnet of the car. “H’s a garage job,” he announced. “Dynamo brushes .... And we haven’t got a bit of rope, either, or we could give you a tow.” “Oh, dear-” answered Alary. “But L simply must get to Palmerston. It's fright fully important. ’ ’ “We’ll pack you in with us,” said Oliver, “and get a garage in Palmerston Io retrieve your car.” “Thanks most awfully.” “Not at all,” replied Oliver airily. “We’re only too delighted to be of service to a lady. Aren’t we, Alf?” “You’re right,” agreed Alf. They all squeezed into the seat of the van. “All set?” inquiicd Oliver. “Then let her go, Alf.” Palmerston North. They reached the outskirts of Pal nierston North and were following the railway into the town. Oliver, having signally failed to draw Alary into con versation or to learn anything about her, was feeling slightly discouraged. •She had replied absently io all his gambits as if she had something on her mind. AH had maintained a stolid silence all the way. As they passed tue station an<l came out into the ►Square Alary ashed Alf to drop her at the Post Office. “We’ll lake you wherever a ou’re going,” said Oliver quickly. “ I’he Post Office will do-, thank you.” “But, I say,” protested Oliver, “you must Jet me giv e you some lea before you go off.” id ary glanced at her watch. “I haven't lime honestly J haven’t.” The car stopped at the corner of the •Square and Alary jumped down, Oliver followed dragging his suitcase alter him. “Good heavens!” he exclaimed, “we've left your luggage, in the car!” “I’ve juot remembered it, but it doesn’t matter; the friends 1 ’in staying with will lix me up all right.” “Don’t woiry about the car—l’ll see about it for you.” Alary smiled her thanks. “it s awfully kind of you. 1 11 give you a ring in the mu-rning, laen. Where are you staying/ ’ Oliver mentioned Die name of the only hotel of which he had heard. “ W hat about; to-morrow?” asked Alt. “I’m going on to Hastings. Want a lift ?”

■ No thanks, Alf,” answeivd Oliver looking at Alary. “I’m staying here for a bit. Thank you most awfully for the lift to-day. P’raps wi’ll meet again somewhere. And Alf, wiien you get talking to your labour pals, don’t forget there’s such a thing as jumping out of the frying-pan into the lire ” “Good-o,” said Alf. “So long. Good-bye, lady.” “Good-bye—and a thousand thanks,” replied Alary. Alf waved his hand ami drove off. Alary turned to Oliver. “Till tomorrow, then.” She was gone without giving him a chance to reply. Oliver crossed the road to a garage ami gave instructions for Alary's car to be brought in and dealt with. He walked back to the Square and on through the gardens arouqd which the vvnolc town seemed to have sprung up. Cabbage trees with absurd spikes bal A need on the end of thin, spindle-like shanks stood out in sharp silhouette.against the fading blue of the evening suy. Accustomed as he was during hi.-> brief time in New Zealand to the near ness of hills he fell oddly depressed by the flatness of the place. AL the far end of the Square he turned left and found himself confronted by the railway line running right across the •Square itself. A few .yards away an engine was coughing and spilling in its struggle to haul a train through the town. A bell was ringing and red lights were, flickering where the line crossed thv street, but no one appeared to take the least notice: a woman pushed a pram across the track undei the very nose of the engine. It all seemed rather unnecessarily dang'erou.*. The whole town reminded Oliver verv much of the middle west of America - the wide (pen Square; the broad, rec tangulai street; the flatness; the ra.: wav running through the streets. Oliver looked in ai his hotel. God’s Own Country. “ Yes,“ said ilii- barman, p<dishing n glas.', “aftei the war I came (••nt here, and a funny lot of jobs I A c been in. too. Six yeais in this one.” “Do von like it ? ” asked Oliver. “Well enough; working conditions are much better here than what they are at Home.” “How about living conditions?” 'I tie barman learned confidentially across his bar. “This is the finest country in the world,” he said impressively. “He'lei wages than most, even today. And

money goes further here than at Home. You can do mure with it—get more value fur yc-ur money, if you see what 1 mean. 1 like a bit of sport myself, and I can gel it here —a bit of lishing ana shooting and so on. Could 1 get that at Home on a barman’s wages/” Oliver admitted that field sports in England were out of reach of barmen, unless they were the very princes of their profession, “And look here,” went on the barman, “here 1 live in a little house in the open air. Clean air. Tha.t’s belter than living in London, or Liverpool, or Birmingham, and see the sun a cuijple of limes during the winter-time if you’re lucky. Excuse me.” He moved away to serve another customer. Oliver sipped his beer thoughtfully. There was a good deal in that —probably a man did get more for ins money here. And a man on a small wage certainly lived a vastly and more pleasant lift). He wondered how many people in New Zealand realised that—and were projterly grateful. The barman returned and Oliver learned that he came originally frurn a farm in the Alidlands. “Been c-n the land out here?” asked Oliver. The barman shook his head and grinned. “I was never a one L'ur farming. “Don’t like the land. And if you d<m I. like the laud there's no use in your going farming. L don't hold with a square peg in a round hole —nut even a. hole in ihe ground. There’s a sight too many feiiows on the la mi because they couldn’t think of anywhera else to go. ■ ’ “I. suppose you come across plenty of farmers here?” “I’lcnty.” replied the barman grin mug again. “And how are things around here?' The Same the Whole World Over. “H's nol ea.'y just to say. I only know what 1 hear. l>f course, farmers are the same anywhere —always complaining about something, and if that’s not Ihe Government, it s the weather. If butler-fat went up live bob they’d still find something to grumble about. Just now, of course, they all sav they’re, broke and most c.f them are silling and waiting for someone else Io help them.” “ Vou don't seem t<> think mmli ot p.-ur Inrnni-,” said Uliver laughing. “Well, of roui.-.e, I'm unly .'peaking of |he ones that come in here -musliy when they might to he doing a job of work. I notiue that the ones who mini plain the most are the ones that spend most money in this bar. Ami they were coinplaining back in (he boom time when God knows there was little enough for anyone Io grouse a’m lit. Bui I don't take any notice of tlie.n, .1 see too many <1 them —<>r, rather, I see ihe same ones too often, and I'm sii-k of 'em. Whelivv er I d i see a li \ e pound note in the till I kn<w it's been put there bv some farmer ■'tainting drinks to his friends, 'l mi cotne in here just before we (lose Illis evening and you’ll see.” “Thanks,’’ he >aid. “ft’s very 1n leresting and I ralhei think 1 will.” Oliver Organises. (biver sat in Ihe lounge drinking a cup <-f lea. a. map of the North Island spread before him. lie was thinking "v er his talk with the little man nt Levin and with the barman below, and

had decided that he must have a plan oi campaign. Il he just v. andered aimlessly through the country he might overlook some important aspect, some aspect in which the key for which he was searching might liv. “No,” said Oliver to hi nisei f. “I must, as Ihe Yanks say, ‘organise myself’. ” He looked at the map again. Thu man al Levin was obviously i igiil. 'I hi • was, first and last, a farming country, and he must gel. at the heart uf the farming business first. He decided to go towards Mount I'.gmont, and thence up to Auckland, returning to Welling ton by wav < f Napier. If that didn I give him the opportunity to find out about, farmers an I their problems nothing would. And in Auckland he would pu.bal'lv learn the points of view of the small wage-earners and .'in relief workers; and in Wellington the l'ii.-iiie.-.s man s angle. Yi"-, that seem ed (he wav Hi set, about, it. So would lie be most likely to accomplish the task which Tanner had set him—the seaiuh for the spirit of the country. Put like that, it sounded very grand and rather impertinent .... he stared out. of the window at a cast which was parading on the roof opposite. Two men caiae intn the lounge and seated theinsvlvcs on a sofa by the fii'pla'C. Both were eldcrlv and cheer-

ful-looking and bore the unmistakable stamp cl ihe commercial traveller. “How’s things, Prank’” asked one. “Oh, not .so bad. Well up on lasi year, like everything else.” “In spile of san's tax?" They bulh laughed heartily. “Well, we Ac only got a mon a (i two before things siac'Cii oil lor the el< i 11 >u. “ said i he ot her. “You're right. I'unny how an e'er lion scares people. Slows up trade worse than a war. Pity we have eh • “H’s not this Gov ernuien. s fa .ill we do.” The speaker < aught Olivvi s eye and nodded io him. Oliver moved o.er io tue -ofa. “Good evening, gentlemen. ‘ ’ he y.i.il, • I 'in a ( raid I couldn 'l help over li<.. i | ing wuat you were saying and .... < i ] . . . I wa> interested. I'm a stri'.ug'-i I Honesty and Politics. The seif.nd man waved an aff.ii.;- i hand and Oliver sal down. I e looked i at the other man ami went on: “1 should very much like to know why you say that it. is no fault of your Government that an civet ion is tu take place.” “Well, ynu sec Ihi* Government's term of oflice expired la*i year and | they just extended their time fur

another year. ’ “Yote'd themselves an extra year’f salary, you might say." put in inc sei <>nd man. •‘ Y i n might, of course, say it,” irplicd Oliver. “Indevil. vou have said it. I didn't know that New Zealatulcis were dishonest.” “1 don‘i know what you mean,’* said t he other angrily. “Wm sac th,it your Government ex tended its term <-f oflice so that ihev gain for th-< mselvc> extra salaries. Novt I call Ji.it i-O't dLhunest.’' “They ought never to have done it.” ‘•Po-siblv, but llrnt is a very different thing from attributing to them dishonest me.; iv ex. Do vou say that Ihe present lea<lei> of this country aie di* honest ?'' • No, I don *t sa v I hat. " “Then ” said Oliver warmlv. “J di not think that you should sny sm-.t scandalous things about lhe'ii.' The previous speaker looked at hi* boots. His 11 tend pa’led him on tiie bae!-. ifiihirkiug: “He\ right, you know, old man. Perfectly right. Not that I agree xvit 11 i tic Govcriimeut i .xtending thvir own life, mind you. But that's a different, think from saying thev did it to get mi.-ney for t hem-cl \ p*-. ' * *To be coni inued.)