THE GIRL FROM MASON CREEK

Rotorua Morning Post, Issue 3, 26 August 1931, Page 6

THE GIRL FROM MASON CREEK

Walter i

Smyth) .

| A TALE OF NEW ZEALAND COUNTRY LIFE. J

(By

§- Author of "Bonzer Jbnes," *'Jean of the Tu'ssock Country," etc. | 5 ' (Copyright — All Rights Reserved). s Tllllllll illllliittiiiiiiiifiivoiiifiit iititiiifiiiiiiifiif iiiiiiiitiiittiiiifiaiaitiifitiiiiiiitiiKiniii ■■■iiaiiinaiiiillf iltci llllllllllfllllllllllllllll'1*

CHAPTER XV

Fresh people were continually arriving, and as the waltz drew to a close, after some six encores, the dancers were circling the room en bloc. Jess could not help wondering where Gregory was. It seemed years since she had seen him. She supposed he was in some lone camp tucked away in a fojd in the hills. Unconsciously she sighed. "Getting. hot?" Hart asked. "'Tis rather warm," the girl admittedj " VLet's sit down." "We might as well finish." So the squatter and Jess did not immediately detach themselves from the slow-m'oving mass of perspiring humanity. Again the girl found herself thinking of the man who had drawn her up the cliff. A little disturbing voice kept telling her that she would never see him again, and all at once she felt that something had gone out of her life. There was a siispicious moisture in the dark eyes, and for a moment, ' her bottom lip was tightly gripped by the strong white teeth. Her gaze was set "blankly and she never saw the bobbing couples that constantly jostled her and her partner; then all in an instant she gasped and stopped dead. There among the crowd bunched in the doorway was the man she had all the time been thing of. He smiled when he saw that she had noticed him. The squatter, surprised at the girl's abrupt action, hastily guided her out of the crowd. "What's the matter?" he demanded, "feeling faint or something?" J ess, gratef ul to him for giving her an excuse, smiled and nodded. "Yes," she said weakly, "I did come over rather queer — must be the heat!" "Wait, here!" commanded Hart, "I'll try and get you a drink of something!" He stepped into the crowd and disappeared, and Jess was left by herself., Now the waltz was really ending and Funston hurried into the centre of the room ready to make an announcement. "Ladies and gents," he began, "we're going to have a song from Mr Seth Williams of th' camp." Seth was promptly dragged forward. For orice he was full of con fidence, for he had kept within tap Teaching distance of the hogshead since his arrival at the hall. Without ceremony he was pushed up on to the stage and left to his own devices. For a few moments he stood swaying gently and gravely surveying the audience. Then with an effort he steadied himself and turned his head slowly round untll his eyes rested on Happy Thomas, who since the ending of the waltz had played mixed melodies. "Kin you play 'Ole King Cole'?" Seth gulped. "It's a comic." "I'm game to give anything a g 0," Happy grinned. "Just hum us th' tune!" A . discordant sound came from Seths' throat, then the young rabbiter nodded vigorously. "I got it," he said. "Fire ahead." For the next few minutes the audience was told of the eccentricities of the legend king. The tune, as Seth sang it, seemed to be confined to three notes, but if melody was lacking, length was not spared, for the song consisted of some forty verses. Seth stood rigridly erect, his fists tightly clenched by his sides and his watery blue eyes fixed unwaveringly. on the ceiling. Now and again he quite unconsciously sang some particular verse twice over, but this never upset the musician who steadi1y vamped away in one key while Seth sung in another. After each verse the ladies would appland loud5y, but the men were mostly engaged at the hogshead. A big fellow from the camp lurched out of the men's dressing-room and stood for a few moments staring at Seth stupidly; then seeing a tightly rolled horse-rug on the floor, he piclced it up and hurled it at the singer. Some of the ladies screamed, others laughed, and Seth fell off the stage. Funston, a man of emergencies, strode quickly into the middle of the floor. "That's all right, ladies, don't be alarmed; that's all part of the programme — just a little bit of drama fco make everybody laugh!" Then, turning, he made for the door and seized the man who had caused the uproar, and flung him into the road. "To hell with you and your jokes!" he said wrathfully. "Don't you come back!" The man, still dazed, uttered a string of oaths, then picking himself up he slowly wended his way to the hotel, which was doing a thriving business.

Funston looked quite happy when he returned to the hall. "Now," he said cheerfully, "we've just listened to a bonzer comic song by th' man who'll one day entertain royalty — what about another shake of th' -feet?" Without waiting' for any comment he continued, "Play another waltz, Happy, an' we'll go for our lives." Happy changed the tune, and with good-humoured laughter the crowd accepted the new state of things. Jess still sat on- the long form against the wall. She was trying to think what had happened to Hart, but the knowledge that Gregory was somewhere about the hall made her strangely nervous The floor was now so thickly peopled that she could scarcely see a yard either -way. A man came elbowing his way through the throng to her side. When he reached the girl he stood for a moment contemplating her, then with an amused laugh he leant forward. "Let's dance," he invited. The girl glanced up in sudden confusion, but she did as he suggested. Jess moved as though in a dream, for Gregory's arm about her waist caused a curious feeling qf unreality. She was both thrilled and startled — thrilled by his presence, startled by the surge of emotion that was new and strange. Why did he stir her so profoundly? The fluttering thought forced her to look into his face, but she glanced swiftly away again upon meeting his intent gaze.

"Jess!" It was only a whisper, but it caused the girl's cheeks to crimson. "Gregory!" For the moment Jess was quite unaware that she had uttered the name; it just fell naturally from her lips as though she had know him all her life. Then the tension was brolcen — the stranger laughed, and the girl felt his arms instantly tighten about her. A second later, with brutal suddenness, the girl's thoughts and feelings were swept aside, for all at once she became aware of a very real danger. Pushing through the dancers were Hart and police trooper Thomson. Instairtly dreams vanished, and Jess was cool and ready to try and circumvent the men who, she shrewdly guessed, wanted Gregory. "See!" she whispered with a quick j gesture, "Hart and th' trooper — want j to talk?" A hard glint leapt into the man's j eyes; for a second he hestitated, then | he disengaged himself from the girl. "No," he responded quickly, "not | yet !" j "Then — go!" Jess ordered. "I'll keep them!" Without waiting for her companion's reply, the girl bumped heavily into a big shepherd, who in turn fell up against a man from the camp. The two men, both slightly muddled,.glared at one another. Those in the immediate vicinity, scenting a fight, crowded round, effectively screening the stranger from the trooper. j Funston was on the scene in a few seconds. He pushed his way to the heart of things without ceremony. "Now boys and ladies," he snapped, "don't spoil a "good evening — th' fightin' doesn't start till midnight, an' then it's fixed to take place in th' paddock among th' hosses, so snap up yer partners and get agoin'." Every one laughed and order was restored. Hart came on alone to where Jess was standing with a group pf women. "Where's that fellow gone?" he demanded. "How should I know?" asked the girl. "I don't keep tally of every one in the hall!" There was an ugly scowl on the squatter's face. "You seem deuced friendly," he growled. "Who is he? — both Thomson and I'd like to know' a bit more about him." Jess flushed angrily, but she forced herself to speak calmly. "I don't know anything about him," she returned. "Only- that he saved me from the flood, so 'Ive good cause to be friendly with him!" "So that's the chap who came down the rope." Hart's tone was grim. "I thought somehow he was, because I made inquiries and found that he was a stranger here." "So you've turned detective?" The girl spoke derisively, her lips curling in a sneer. The smouldering light in the squatter's eyes suddenly flamed up, and his countenance grew brutal as a torhent of fierce anger surged through him. "So that's how it is, is It?" he muttered ominously. "You think that way about him, do you?" "My thoughts are my own," Jess flung back at him. "When I want you to do my thinking, I'll let you know!" She turned and walked quickly to the other end of the room and Hart was left in a red-hot rage. Soon after this the dance finished, and the perspiring dancers flopped down on the nearest seats and vigorously fanned themselves. Funston came unsteadily from the room where the hogshead was and took up his usual position in the middle of the hall. After wipihg his mouth and clearing his throat he announced: "Ladies and gents— er — ladies and gents, we're going to let you into a secret now, while you're enjoying a well-earned rest. We'll show you first-hand how they make records for talking machines!" Loud applause followed, after which the saddler continued thickly, "Seth Williams, who you enjoyed a while back, is going to sing, an' a record of his voice will be taken for you to hear!" There were many who listened sceptically to this statement, but these doubting Thomases got a surprise when several of the men from the camp came up the hall carrying a gramophone. The sadler waved every one back. Mounting the stage, he dragged Seth after him. The latter seemed dazed. Perhaps it was due to the excessive heat of the room, or possibly the hogshead was responsible. He smiled idiotically and swayed backwards and fo'rwards while the gramophone, one of the old horn type, was. set up on a high packing-case. A record was then * placed on the revolving table and Funston told the amazed spectators that all was now ready. No one really cared whether Seth could sing or not— all they wanted to hear was a reproduction of the weird noises that would presently come from his throat. Funston chuckled and faced the audience, "Ladies an' gents," he gulped, "Seth's first song will be 'The Ole Shako' !" Seth twisted himself round with an effort. "Never heard tell of it," he mumbled with a vigorous shake of hie head. "Shut your head an' just sing it! — don't arjfue," the saddler snorted threateningly in what he fondly imagined to be no more than -a whisper. A fishy look crept into Seth's eyes, but he wisely kept silent. Funston went over to the gramophone while Happy ground out the old familiar tune. "When I say 'go,' git to it!" the saddler snapper. "Now ready — go!" Seth thrust his head into the horn of the machine and made a gurgling sound that no one in the audience could properly distinguish. Some of the boys started to lhugh, but Funston glared so savagely that they stifled. thqir merriment. Presently Seth foll back nearly suffocated, and the gramophone was stopped. The saddler beamed. "Now ladies and — er — ladies an' er — hear, hear it reproduced!" he exclaimed hoarsely. (To he Continued)