For the Other Fellow.

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, Volume 1, Issue 8, 1 May 1900, Page 583

For the Other Fellow.

By Elma Vronretk;

Illustrated hf E. B. Vaw/han

you know where he is now?" \@J Victor Clarkson looked steadily into the troubled eyes of the woman who asked the question. "I don't know for certain," he answered slowly, " but I believe he went up north, to dig gum, probably." She clenched and unclenched her hands, and her lips set. " You professed to be his friend," she said reproachfully, " Oh, why did you let him go? " " Not even a friend can hold back a desperate man." "Then why didn't you go, too?" she asked, with all a woman's unreasonableness when stirred. "A fellow can't leave his mother and sisters to live on air," he answered humbly. " But you could have written." " Where to ? " "Oh, I don't know! " she cried helplessly. "Oh, if only I — l " she paused, and her eyes fell before his steady gaze. "If only," he began, with the bluntness of long friendship, "if only you had married the man who loved you, instead of — of . Bah ! what's the use of talking, it's done ! But in any case, Head must be found ! " "He -went north, you say," she began eagerly, "to one of the gurnfields? Oh, if only we knew something more definite ! I'll go myself ! I'll start this week ! " "Do you know what the gumfields of the north aye like ? " he asked grimly. " They are a dead man's land, full of dead men who live ! Sounds paradoxical, but it's a fact ! The shadow of a dead past hangs over them, and the place is one huge sepulchre ! It's hardly a fit hunting ground for a woman." She weighed his words, then she leaned

Vofc, t,— No. 8.-44.

forward, ;i pleading light in her deep blue eyes, as she laid her hand on his arm. " Vie," she said softly, "you cared for me oneo, will you go and bring him back for the sako of old times? You are free now." His face paled, and he trembled, but only for a moment, then he looked steadily at those eyes that never did, and novor would, ask from him in vain. " Yes, I'll go," he answered. * * # * # " Wallis 'Wad, did yer say ? Yes, 1 knows 'im. '!<] was in ther township last week, an' 'c did look awful bad, an' 'c carted b:n k a rare old doso with 'im. 1 wouldn't hot ugen it that 'c were dead by now, for wen 'o went on ther bust 'c jest knocked up for weeks, an' it warn't no good goin' near 'im. Yes, that's ther road, Mister, straight aVad, third track to ther left, past a bit <>' bush, an' on up ther rise, an' yer can't miss 'is hliiitity. Don't mention it ! Mawnin', sir ! " Vie. Clurkson found the road a track, and the track an occasional impress of a human foot, but his set face was unmoved by the deficiencies of the way, and his thoughts were concerned with deeper matters than (lie lonely track. Had he really been Imping to hear that, his one-time friond was dead ? Was he tliinking too much of the woman who trusted in his search? Was he pitting his chances against those of the broken down man ho now expected t'> Hud ? Ho tried to shake off auoli thoughts, and quickened his pace through the clump of bush to which ho had been directed. When through it, ho paused, and, Hliading his eyes from tho blazing sunlight, looked along the narrow clay path in front

of him, that wound up a gradual slope of sun-scorched gum land. At the upper end of it, outlined against a fern-clad hill, was a small thatched nikau whare, the only sign of human life within the range of vision. At the sight of it, a tremor passed over Olarkson's frame. What a safe refuge it was from the seething tumult of life that constitutes " the world ! " Could

'you pkofess to be his frikno," sue said, reproachfully, " oh, why DID YOU LET HIM GO?"

anyone, wishing to be cast off from his kind, and to bury the past, have found a spot more suited to his broken spirit ?

Distance had nothing to give but rounded hills of a dull, monotonous brown, relieved, here and there, by the straggling 1 clay paths that wound round and round them . Clarkson 's eyes were fixed on that lonely whare, .and, shaking himself, a new light shot over his face, aud he started onward with a firm step.

As he neared the whare, he saw that the full force of the summer sun had dried up the nikau, and cracked the earth all round, and one thing and another arrested his glafrce, and brought the presence of a man before him. First, a well remembered shirt, now ragged, and tossed upon a tea-tree bush, then an upturned bucket, and an old axe and a gum spear that leaned against the leafy wall ; but it was all still life, and he looked for some moving thing to relieve the oppression of the scene. The air was tilled with the buzzing of bees, and the indescribable clicking of locusts. Blinking waves of heat rose all round, and Olarkson felt a creepysensation as hestepped up to the shanty. The open door revealed two boxes tliat did duty as table and chair, clothes thrown in a heap, uncorked bottles, telling their own tak>, dust that had blown in and settled where it liked, thu ashes of a fire long cold, and a kHtlo i.liat had tilted up, and run dry; a stream had trickled from its spout and seamed a little channel through tin; dust and ashes on the rough slabs that formed a floor. With a bound Clarkson stood inside, but the sudden change from the blaze without, made the room a confused darkness. Then his sight cleared, and he gave a muttered exclamation as his eyes fell on a heap of fern and frayed blaukets, and the tigure of a man with its face to the wall. " Dead ! " muttered Clarkson. "Is it in places like this that men, once strong, seek refuge, and lay down tod ; e?"

He stooped diwn, shaking with strong emotion, and laid his hands tenderly upon the prostrate heap. But it moved of itself, and Vie. started back, as two dull, brown eyes that once had been magnificent, opened with a half startled look upon his face.

v Vic — Vic — Clarkson ! " muttered a thick voice, then the eyes closed again.

For one instant Clarkson thought that the man before him was as good as dead. Should

he go back and tell her so, and try ? " No ! " be hissed through his set teeth, and then there came a lump in his throat, and an overwhelming pity for the thing he saw. " Wallis, old man," he cried, as the brown eyes opened again, " you must live, you must ! I have come for you, do you hear ? You must get better, old fellow ! lam going to stay till you do. Heaven, but it's terrible, to see you like this ! " Head's lips moved, but the other man could not make out the sounds that came from them, and the buzzing of the bees

outside seemed to swell into a roar that filled the shanty. ***** The next day Olarkson sent the following telegram : Mrs. Carter, Grand Hotel, Auckland. Found him, recovering from illness. Be in Auckland in two or three weeks. V. Clarkson. ***** A fortnight later, the two men sat smoking on a stump outside the whare. " Upon my soul, you look worlds better already ! See what a little cheerful society

does for a chap ! Why, you will ho ablo to accompany me back to Auckland in a week or two," began Clarkson. "Mo ? Novor ! Don't start that racket again! I'm dead to tho world. Pooplo think I passed out long ago. Thoy'll bo saying, ' Remember poor Head who wont north and to the devil?'" CJarkson laughed, then ho looked sorious. " All tho samo, old man, I think you'll go back with mo to tho city. In fact, I think you'ro needed there." "Needed?"

" H'm, yes ! Something of that kind." Head laid down his pipo. He began to understand, and a bit of the old light shot into his eyes. " Are — is — for the Lord's sako say what you mean, will you ? " ho cried hoarsely. "Well, she has come back ! " "And " " And the thing she married is enjoying the scenery of Sydney gaol, for a little divei'sion in the way of a former wife turned vp — and she has come back to her homo." " And she wants me?" " Well, I don't think she'd run away from you if she met you."

Head looked earnestly at Ms friend. " Vie— l— I — thought you cared for her ! " " I — tut ! School-boy saint worship — that was all ! " and he blew a wreath of smoke up into the still air. " Vic — you — you have saved me ! " "Oh, rubbish -"

But their hands met and clasped with a grip that neither women nor angels know. # # # # * " She's in there," said Clarkson off-handedly. Wallis Head went towards the door of the hotel parlour, Clarkson strolled out on to the balcony and lit a cigar, and looked down upon Auckland Harbour, It was regatta

day, and his thoughts went back to a day of his youth, when he and his friend and the girl they both loved had sailed the yacht that won the race. He held the cigar between his fingers, and leaned over the railing. "If he had really been dead — " he began, half aloud. "Pshaw, the heat's affecting

me ! Ah, that looks like the Volunteer and Viking in ! By the way, I've got a bet on the Volunteer, but shan't win, I never do. Anyway, I'll go down and see." " Volunteer win ? " he asked of a Star boy near the wharf. "No — Viking, lrnin, lOsecs." " Ah, thought she would ! Thanks,"