THE "M.C."

Dominion, Volume 5, Issue 1530, 28 August 1912, Page 4

THE "M.C."

♦ AND THE LOST FIDDLERS. A BUSH MEMORY. (By Wi.) "Weather pormittin'," said the "M.C," a week lieforo tho "long night" in the schoolroom, "an' I reckon, we'll do oui-ielvos proud." Tho week had gone, and tho "M.C." rode into the school ground, lied liia horso up to tho fence, and made his way into tho school. It was a beautiful night, and a soft September wind, instinct with the promise of summer, breathed softly among the trees. The great full moon had cleared tho ranges, and was rising serenely into the jewelled canopy overhead, flooding tho rugged landscape with its silver splendour. Entering the crowded porch of tho school, tho "M.C" beamed upon the company, removed his leggings and spurs pulled his pumps out of his coat pocket, and sat down on a kerosene case which oontained sandwiches and kindred comestibles. "How's things goin', Jim?" he inquired of Ins neighbour, as ho undid the laces ot his boots. "Aw right, Bill, jest aw right." •Everybody 'ore?" "I reckon so—barrin' them from over tho river." . Tho "M.C." sat up and frowned. "Time I they was 'ere," he said. "We're gettin' two fiddlers over from Marima—extry speshul music this twist." "Plenty time yet," said Jim. "If s only a-past." "H-m," said the "M.C," and he bent over his boots again. Then he pulled on his pumps, blew his nose, and felt in his waistcoat pocket for the programme "What d'yo think o' this lot?" he inquired, handing the sheet of note-pnper wherein were set forth the items for the lons' night. The other regarded tho list with a fascinated gaze. "Lawncors, quadrilles—wofs this? Berlin polka!— Can ycr fiddlers git over that lot?" "Sure-easy. I tol' ol' Ben Farrelly to leave his accordcon 'ome fur a change. 'Ow's tho time?" "Twenty to eight—time they was 'ere, Bill." A shade of anxiety clouded the brow of the "M.C," and he stalked to the door and scanned intentlv tho white ribbon which marked tho windings of tho bill road that led up from the ford of tho treacherous Manga.hao. Then he returned to the porch, sat down on the kerosene case, and drummed his toes impatiently. His companion snapped his watch. "Ten to, he observed. "Looks like a slip-up. Big crowd, extra speshul supper, and no bloomin music. Luvly !" ,n'M)'} y , is ~ fllr roe." agreed tho M.C. despondently. "Was ye down to the river to-day r" "Yes—could 'a waded it, easy." . ghat's nuthin — the snow's on the melt now. Ere, Jim, slip on'yer 'oss and streak down and see what's up. Make it sudden. ' "Righto!" i And Jim slipped out into the moonlight, pulled his horse out of the line along tho fence, and clattered' awaydown the hill road to tho river, the hoofbeats growing fainter and fainter as he faded out ot sight. - Anon, from .away down in the shimmering haze of tho moonlight in the valley below' he could hear the hoof-beats'of'an approaching horse. Ono solitary hoTse! His heart sank. "Dished! By gum! Ab-so-lootely dished," ho said to himself, in a hoarso whisper. Then he called out: "Sav, Ben! '"Ullo!" responded the deposed accordeon player. ■"'Ere!*' Ben Farrelly emerged from the ballroom. "Wot's up?" ho inquired. The "M.C." jerked his thumb in the direction of the river. "Tho fiddlers 'ave missed tho bus," ■he whispered, tragically. ■ Ben whistled. "'Eve's,Jim now—'c's jist bin to the river." Jim rode into tho playground, and reined up by the porch, his horso blowing like a grampus. ' Shs's up—bank to bank —we're euchred," he reported briefly. The "M.C." sworo softly. "No good cussin'," said old Ben Farrelly. "Wot youso goin' a do?" ''Git your accordeon, and don't stand 'ere askin' wot we're goin' a do—git!" commanded Jim. "That's the caper—git," endorsed the "M.C." Old man Farrelly spat on the ground. "No good—she's busted," he said. "What?" shrieked the "M.C." Old Ben nodded grimly. "Fact—tho cat pushed her off of the mantel-piece yes'day." Tho "M.C." groaned, whilo the figure of Jim, as ho sat on his horse, sagged with the limpness of despair. Just then tho new schoolmaster came out of tho ball-room. "Anything wrong?" he inquired. "Everything," replied the "M.C," shortly. "Kiver's up, band's niissin', an' we're busted. Can ye play anything?" ' Tho schoolmaster stared blankly at the trio. "No, I can't," he replied. "Weli," said the "M.C," grimly, "I s'posa the best thing we can do is to announce the glad tidings. Let's git It over." And ho turned towards the schoolroom. "Wait a minute—wait a minute!" whispered the schoolmaster, excitedly. "I've an idea.'g' Tho "M.C." paused, and wheeled about. "You 'ave?" % The schoolmaster nodded. "Think you could dance to a gramaphono?" "I duuno," said the.M.C, stroking his 'chin reflectively. ' "Look here, said t!ho sahoolmastar, "keep them amused for half-an-hour, and I'll havo a shot at it. Get mo a trap." The schoolmaster was given about half-an-hour, and returned with a gramaphono and a box of records. "Well, mister?" inquired the "M.C," with hope in his voice. "Anythin' doin'? . "Probably," roplied the schoolmaster. "You wait and see." "Let her go," answered the "M.C," laconic but grateful. The instrument was placed on a table in a corner of the ball-room, an object of interest, curiosity, and anticipation. On a chair beside sat the schoolmaster, scribbliug out his programme. At his elbow stood tho "M.C," looking as'if he had staked his all on the last thro* of the dice, and was uncertain whether the next minute would see him a millionaire or a bankrupt. "Announce the Lancers," said the schoolmaster. "Take yer partners fur th' lawnccrs!" bawled tfie "M.C" There'' was a general stir about tho room, and various couples took up their positions. "One more couple this way!" called the "M.C" briskly. "Come on 'ere, Alfred, no reniggin'—git a partner!" "I ca'nt dawnce the lawncers," protested Alfred, dodging the inviting eyes of a prnsnnotivo wallflower. "Nev' mind—'avo a go!" eaid the obdurate "M.C.' V ... .imud accepted the situation, rescued the wallflower, and completed the sot. The "M.C." gavo a final and approving glance around. "Bight!" ho called, and clapped his hands. The schoolmaster released the turn-t«blo of the gramophone, and presently the lively strains of a "preludio" to the first figure of tho "Mikado Lancers," was given out by the instrument. "Gee-whiz!" exclaimed tho "M.C." as he grabbed his partner and whirled into tho first figure of tho lancers, "wot price this?" His partner giggled ecstatically, and squeezed his arm. Tho schoolmaster kept them going. About midnight two apologetic figures appeared in the doorway, with, violin cases under their arms. They stared at the company and at the corner, whore the-music supplv was located. Presently the eye of the "M.C." fell upon them. " 'Ello!" ho greeted them. " 'Ere ye are, at lastdid ye swim?" "Nope—she's down," said the 'first fiddler. . "Youso don't seem to ave missed us much," said tho second fiddler. "Well, o' course," said the "M.C," hospitably, "we 'aven't in one way, but other ways wo 'ave. Como 'long an' chime in. Leave yer fiddles in th' porch." He jerked his thumb in the' direction of tho gramaphone. "We're up against, a bit o' talent over 'ere. Fiddles is off." ZOUTH.— Tho 3 remarkable remedies are prepared, in England. Of chemists and stores,', or post free from Zouth Care Co., Wellington. Sufferers,' write (or, triaV (mention, fiomnlaintl,