GHOSTS OF THE PAST.

Dominion, Volume 5, Issue 1381, 6 March 1912, Page 6

GHOSTS OF THE PAST.

A MOONLIGHT FANTASIE.

(By Wi.)

One night last week, before the southerly came up and spoilt it all, I went for a stroll down the range. The sky was clear, and the cold mysterious light of tho great February moon fell upon a ghostly camp. It was after "lights out," and tho whole scene was as if the chill Hand of Death itself had stretched across the camp and frozen all animation. As I stood thero on one of the mounds, lost in admiration of tho scene, I became awnre of the approach of a little old man, bowed down by the weight of many

things. Ho carried rifle, an umbrella, an oilskin, two leather bngs. He took no notice of me, but spread out on tho mound an oilshcet. Then he took from his bngs a little bottle of lamp-black, some Chinese white, a small barometer, a thermometer, some ammunition, a windgauge, a telescope, a scoring-book, and a. lead pencil. These ho placed on tho ground, and taking up his rifle, cleaned tho barrel with the. utmost care, oiled tho bolt and the breech mechanism, painted tho sights with his knip-blaok, and made some mysterious marks on the back sight with his white paint. Then he laid his riflo carefully on one side, and, wetting his finger, held it up in the air. Then lie scrutinised his barometer, and thermometer, and made some involved calculations in his scoring book. Then ho lay down on (lie mound and squinted long and earnestly through his telescope at tho distant target. Then he made soma more calculations, after which ho loaded, his riflo, placed his orthoptic spectncles on his nose, wriggled his arm into tho sling,, hugged tho weapon close to his shouldor, and wormed and twisted his body about till ho felt comfortable In front of. him was his scoring-book and pencil, telescope, lamp-black and Chineso white, and ammunition. Of a sudden, ho became still. Now and then his body heaved slowly as if the last breath was taking its departure. AVas ho going to firo? Had tho psychological moment arrived? Was this poriod of nerve-racking suspense about to end? At last no, tho rifle sank to earth again, tho arm wriggled from tho sling, tho orthoptic spectacles wore pushed up on his brow, and onco again tho little old man squinted long. and carefully through his lelescopo at the target. Onco again a wet forefinger was held up to feel for the elusivo breeze, and some important amendment made in tho involved statistics which were strewn upon the pages of the ecore-book.' Then the arm wriggled-into tho sling ngain, tho orthoptics wcro- pulled down to the eves, and once more the used form ™ stili, m.t« for riw <md fail of tht

body as the, breath came and went. Then tho body ceased to rise and fall, and I bent forward, fearing, I know not what. "13ang!" A thousand cchora awoko in the silent gullies, crashed through the (roes, and iled from cliff to clift, dying away like the mighty surf on a distant shore. Tho rifle dropped to tho ground, the orthoptic was pushed up on the browagain, and tho old man peered through the telescope. But no sign came from tli3 target. The old man put down his telescope, and rose to his knees. "Range ff'ser!" hi* called. I went towards him. "Whafs tho matter?" I asked. "Challenge Number 5," he said gruffly, fishing half-a-crown from his pocket. "I got. a bull on Number 5, but they won't signal it." "But I'm not a range officer," I said. "Well—where is ho? He oughter.'.be here. .It's always the way. Things'll never be run right hero till tho shootin' men get the control. Ah!" he lamented. "The times that was, mo boy! The times that was!"

Tho old man pulled out his pipe and tobacco, and began to cut up a fill. "I was in a good patch just now, and I could ha' come back with a possible." "But you can't shoot in the moonlight," I said, gently, laying my hand on his shoulder. A cold chill ran along my spine. There was no shoulder! My hand passed through thin air. I recoiled. The old man was still there, cutting up tobacco. "Ay—the times that was/' said hp, crooning away to himself. "The times that was." I shivered. I would fein have streaked for my tent, and laced the flaps as they had never been laced before, but my legs refused their office. I remained rooted to tho spot. The old man went on. "Say, youn? man, d'ye know who I am?" 'he asked, eyeirtg me sternly. "Yes—no—at least. I—l—remember your face—but—er I can't quite recall the name, don't . y'know I stammered, through my chattering- teeth. "Don't be skeared, me son. I'm on'y ol' Riggy Shang, come out o' the past to havo a shot. But ifs all changed. I don't feel at home here. Me target's down for good, I reckon, eh?" And the old man turned a cold, fishy eye upon me. "Yes—at least, I suppose eo," I replied, i recovering myself slowly. "Ay, ay," he said. "Well, I suppose 111 have to be getting along," he said, fathering up his. ghostly paraphenalia. The moon will soon ha gone." ''The old times were great times?" 1 said, suggestively. > , "Aj-—they were," he said, ■ with a grin. T recollect once, on this very range it was ™J2 r a ra,re . stormy night of it one night. It was in the old days, y' know, afore tho Government got hold of the meetin', and there was on'y about a , hundred of us every year. Same old crew. I hat was when the meetin' was held at a different place every year, in old Colonel Sointuerviile s time. He was a good old sport, if y' like, now. Used to put his hand in his own pocket to get ranges all over the country for us. I reckon ho must have mortgaged his property for our sakes. . ,

"Anyway, as I was goin' to say, there was one night here when we had'a little bit of a birthday, and somebody got in some champagne. There was only ono row of tents at tho timo, about twenty altogether, with a spare tent for odds and ends \at the rear. Well, there was one chap nsed to 'go out to tho township every night to get festive—he had a birthday every night—and ho always came back to camp more or less full—ginerally more. Well, on this particler night he-went out ae usual, and by-nnd-by, after we had put away some o' the stuff,.somebody suggested that we should empty, old what s-'is-name's tent, and put tho furniture and effects into tho tent at the rear. All right. We.fixed this up, aiul went back to the champagne. "By-and-by, along about midnight, wo hoard him crawling through the fence and talkin' away out loud to himself, which was a habit of his. Ginerally, when he got back to camp, ho used to get in front o' the line, and count out loud till he camo to number four—his tent—and then ho would mako a ziggy-zag bee-line for it. Well, when wo heard him comin' jve all got out to see the fun. Ho arrived in due course at tho front of the line, and stopped. Ho was pretty far gone, I tell you. "However, he began to count—'"One! Two! Treo! Four!' Then he steered for number four, fell over the ropes, crawled inside, pulled himself up by the pole, and struck a match. 'Gosh! Sos he, and went outsido again. 'One! Two! Treo! Four!' Then ho went at it again, struck a match ■when he got insido, and said 'Gosh!' same as before. " 'What's the matter?' we sea to him. " 'Somebody's got away with me stuff, , he 6es. 'Come on, now! Who was it?' And he began to git quite fierce. "So we gits him down to the end of the line, whero the stuff was, and while he was there enjoying himsolf some of the follows shifted his stuff back to number four. Then by-an-by, we said we'd help him to find his tent for him, and wo all went along together and stood in front o' the line. 'One! Two! Tree! Four!' ses old what's-'is-name, and with that we pushed him into number four and struck a match. , 'Well, I'll be jiggered!' he ses. 'Look 'ere, boys, let's go out and see if she'll move again!' "Just then the moon dipped, and a pale light wavered in the east. I looked and saw the night was departing. Then I turned. The old man had gone."