LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1666, 23 June 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

HOW I LOST MY MATE. By Alfred J. Taylor. ‘ Yes ; I can remember it as if it were but yesterday. We bad returned from the gully with our tools and found It scratched upon a piece of green bark, pushed under the door, ‘ ■ The hut will be attached to night when the moon goes down by men who will not stand at murder ” We (that is Jack and I), had b ea on the diggings about ton months, with little luck, when one fine Sunday morn’ng we went out for a ramble on the hills to give the dog a run after the kangaroos. We had followed a rough path and were several miles fr m the camp when the dog led us into an old unfrequented watercourse, thick *ith undergrowtn and bridged with rainy a fallen tree. It was in crossing on one of the latter that I fell and saw that which made me forget all else for the moment A pocket of sand, and gUaming in the sand the color that has made many a digger’s eyes flash with greedy joy. I was so quiet that, Jack thought I was badly hurt,’ ‘Where are you, sr ?’ he called. (You see he always called me ‘‘Sir” for I had picked him up a ragged orphan before mv bad luck at tho diggings, when I could afford to dress more 1 ke a gentleman, and the fellows used to touch their hats to the “ swell ” as they called me). ‘Jump down hero, Jack,” I answered. * Aye, aye ’ si>-,’ and in a moment he was standing beside me. 1 said nothing, but pointing to the sand I saw by the ex ression of his face be understood that we had struck a patch. ‘This is mine and yoms, Jack, to gather as we like ; for u® human foot h?s trod this path before us.’ ‘ Shall we be able to find this place again, Sir,’ he asked ‘ We are not going to leave it boy,’ I answered. ‘What about the tent, Sir ? ’ ‘Better to ka'C it, Jack. If wo never return to it the diggers will think we have faTen down a shaft or lost our way in the bush, and we can w ,rk here without interference, wber-’as, if we return for the tent, we shall be followed, and a swarm of diggers will soon clear out the patch we may now have to ourselves for a time at least.

‘Aye. aye, • ir.' Bit I saw by Jack's face that he was wondering what we should do for cover ; so I explained to him that we would cut down saplings, and sheets of bark from the giant trees which reared their great tranks hundreds of feet from the gully before throwing oat loaf or branch, and build a temporary hut. Jack understood me, and before the sun went down on the following evening we had completed a rough house, about ten minutes’ walk from our ‘ find ’ and made the rough tools necessary for our future labors. We made up our minds to clean out what we could get without much trouble in the gully, and then endeavour to find the source from which the gold had come We had been working for about a fortnight during which time we had obtained more than treble the quantity of gold we had acquired at the old sp't in ten months, when an event occurred which rather shook our confidence in our security. It tras on a Monday morning; we were stooping over our work and hearing a twig snap I looked up in time to see the back of a man disap peariog in the scrub which fringed the top of the golly ‘ We are discovered, Jack ’ I said. ‘ Aye, aye, sir,’ he replied ; for he too had seen the unwelcome intruder. ‘ I wonder who it could be, and why he did not stop and speak to us ?’ * I think, sir, it was Ned Dyrxmnd,’ said Jack. ‘Then mischief is brewinglad,’l answered, for Ned’s character for evil was only too well known on the diggings. We s f ught the shelter of the hut earlier than usual that night, and sat up late talking over the events of the day and discussing our plans for the future. Once we heard the dog bark, and wo knew by the tone that something had excited him greatly ; but on going to the door we could hear nothing but the cry of the mopehawk calling to his mate, and tho bark ot the opposum in the woods. We tried to console each other with the ilea that some night animal had roused his ire ; but neither of us believed it for all that.

Next morning wo found our good dog “Swift” lying few a yards from the door swollen and dead. ‘Stung by a snake,’ we said in the same breath. But the thought crossed my mind, and I am quite sure the same thought passed through the mind of Jack. ‘This is the work of Ned Dymond, and the beginning of mischief to come.’ I went to work wita a sad heart that morning. It seemed to me that the whole aspect of the place had changed. A kind of dread seemed <otake possession of me, and gloomy forebodings of trouble at hand. 4 'l his must be our last week’s work here, Jack; ’ I said ‘Wo have earned enough to make us comfortable for a time : little is loft to make it worth while for anyone who may come after us t> remain; and at the present time we are the only persona who know where to look for more, in this direction at least.’ ‘ Aye, Aye, Sir,’ said Jack, And then he sat down upon a stone, and I shall never forget what followed. After looking at mo wistfully for a moment, I saw his lip quiver, and, burying his face in his hands, he burst into such a passionate flood of tears that I could only stire at him in b'ank astonishment. “ What on eirth is the matter, my lad ? ’ I asked, and I must confess I was very much inclined to follow Jack’s example. < I—l d-don’t know, s-sir,’ he sobbed, ‘ but I have felt inclined to cry all the morning; and now I feel better,” he added, laughing through his tears. •# * # # #

It was when we returned to the hut that evening that wo found the piece (f batk conveying the message I have before referred to. Jack noticed it first, and picked it up to cast it cn the fire, but noticing the words, he read them aloud. A short council of war, and wo decided to face the danger, I knew I could rely upon Jack. In an emergency ho c:uld be cool and true as steel, as I well knew having had previous opportunities of testing his courage. In about three hours the moon would bo down, and we hardly expected an attack befo e then. Wo unloaded and reloaded our revolvers; and, closing window ond door, wo sat over the decaying ashes listening intently for any sound that might break the stillness and give us a clue to the approach of these who sought to rob us of our gold. Our anxiety magnified every sound. The cry of a night bird would make us start, for we knew not hut that it might be a signs! for attack. Ones wo thought wo heard fonts!eps roar the door ; but it was only the loose bark Happing open the tree trunk outside. And when a mopehawk settled on the chimney top and uttered its doleful cry, we bounded to our feet, weapon in band, and

en laughed at our own nervousness. The plaintive cry of the curlew came from the waterhole at the bottom of the gully lik« a cry of human despair ; and my nerves were strung to their utmost tension. The moon was now down, and I could see that Jack was getting fidgetty and excited j and once by the light of the dying embers I could eoo tears glistening in his eyes. This reminded me again of the scene in the gully. For the life of me I could not understand it. I had never seen Jack like this before, But 1 left him to his thoughts. Presently be sp'-'ke. * T wish was alive.’ ‘Yes, Jack. He would have given us some warning of their approach and helped to make the work hot for them,’ * Row many do you expect will come, sir ?’ ‘Not more than two, Jack. You know f ho reputation Ned bears, and the story that ho never trusts more than one mate at a time.’ And then we relapsed into silence again. We had been sitting thus for about another hour when we both heard a sound which caused ns to look towards the door. ‘ he last dicker of a burning splinter of wood flash d sufiicient light to reveal a knife blade slowly cutting its way through one of the sheets of hark. Motioning to Jack to keep silent, without a moment’s hesisation I levelled my revolver to the right of the spot where the knife blade bad entered and pulled the trigger. The report was followed by a smothered oath, and the next instant the frail door wa« hurled from its support, and two masked men entered the hut." We had little time for thought. Shots were exchanged and what followed seemed like a troubled dream. Ned Dymond had fallen, the second bullet from my revolver having passed through his brain, I heard the retreating footsteps of his companion, and, turning qmckly round, I saw that Jack was lying upon the ground, the blood oozing from a wound in his temple. I lifted him on to the rndo conch, believing at the time he was dead, and lighting a piece of candle, which I remembered having placed in the rafters when we built the hut, I proceeded to examine Jack’s wounds. I found that he still breathed, but was quite insensible. Applying bandages as I was best able I sat by In's bedside with a heavy heart. I will not dwell upm all the misery I endured during that 'o g night watch, nothing disturbing the stillness but the heavy breathing of the wounded man, and with no companionship but my own gloomy thoughts I remember it was about two o’clock in the oa r ly morning that a bat flying into the hut put the candle out. I struck a match to rekindle it; and when the light flashed upon Jack’s face, I saw that the lad was dead. I knew that his breath had gone out as the flame went out from the candle wick ; for as I stooped in the momentary darkness to st l ike a match to relight it, I was startled by the sound of his voice saying, ‘ Aye, aye, sir.’ The Master had called and Jack had answered to his name.