CHAPTER III.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 420, 16 November 1889, Page 3

CHAPTER 111.

Tub dash forward, to the train, securely held in the saddle by. the arms of their 1 deliverers, was a secret joy to the children that) seemed only too quickly over. The required gallop of the fiery mustangs, the rush of the night wind, the gathering darkness from which the distant waggons now halted and facing them looked like doomed, huts in the horizon — all these seemed but a delightful and fitting climax to the events ; of the day. la the sublime forgetfulness of youth all they had gone through had left no embarrassing record behind it ; ; they were willing to repeat their experiences on the morrow, confident of some equally happy end. And iwhen Clarence, cimidly reaching his hand towards ,the horse-hair reins lightly held by his,.corn- ;- pan ion, had them playfully yielded 4 up i<o him by that bold and confident rider,, the boy felt himself 'indeed a mqn. ' , But a greater surprise was in store for them. As they neared /the waggons, now. formed into a circle with a aegj^e of military formality, they ,could see that the appointments of the strange party were, larger and more liberal than their 'bwjv'or' indeed anything they had evor 'known of tho kind. Forty or fifty horses were tethered within the circle, and the camp fires were already blazing. Before one of thorn a large tent was erected, and through .the parted flaps could be seen a table actually spread with a white, clot. h Was it a school feast, or was this their ordinary household arrangements ? Clarence and Suzy thogght of their own dinners usually laid on bare boards bqneath the sky or under the low hood of the hut in rainy weather, and marvelled. And when they finally halted and were lifted from their horses and paused, one waggon fitted upas a bedroom and another as a kitchen, they could only nudge each other with silent appreciation. But hero again ithe difference already noted in the quality of the sensations of the two children was observable. Both were equally and agreeably surprised. Bub Suzy's wonder was merely the" sense of novelty and inexperience and a slight disbelief in the critical serenity of what she saw, while Clarence, whether from some, previous general experience or peculiartemperament, had the conviction that what he saw here was -the usual custom, and whab>he had known, with the Silsbees was the novelty. The feeling was attended j with a slight sense of wounded pride for, Suzy, as if her enthusiasm had exposed her to ridicule. Tho man who had carried him and seemed to be the head of the party had already preceded them to the'tent, and presently.reeppeared with a lady with whom he | had exchanged a dozen hurried words.' They seemed to refer to him and Suzy, but Clarence was Loo much preoccupied with the fact that the lady was pretty* that her clothes wore neat and thoroughly clean, that her hair was tidy- and riot rumpled, and that although she wore an apron it was as clean as her gown and even had ribbons on it, to listen to what was said. And when she ran eagerly forward and with a fascinating smile lifted the astonished Suzy in her arms, Clarence in his delight for his young charge quite forgot that ?he had not noticed hhn. The beauled man, who seemed ,to be tho lady's husband, evidently pointed out «bhe omission with some additions that Clarence could not catch, for after saying- with a pretty pout, ' Well, why shouldn't he ?' she came forward with the same dazzling smile and laid her small and clean white hand upon his shoulder. * And so you took' good care of the dear little thing ? She is such an angel — isn't she V and you must love her very much.' Clarence coloured with delight. It was true it had never occurred to him to look at Suzy in the light of a celestial visitant, and I fear he was just then more struck with the fair complimenter than the compliment to his companion, but he was pleased for her sake. He was not yet old enough to be conscious of a belief in its irresistible dominion over mankind at all ages ; and that Johnny in his checked apron would be always a helpless conquestof .Teannette in her pinafore but for maternal prudence and discretion. Howbeit, the lady suddenly whisked Suzy away to the recesses of her own wajrgon , to reappear later washed, curled and beribboned like a new doll, and Clarence was left alone with the husband and another of the party. 1 Well, my boy, you haven't told me your name yet.' 'Clarence*' sir.' 'So Suzy calls you — bub what else ?' 1 Clarence Brant.' *Any relation to Colonel Brant?' asked the second man carelessly. 'He was my father,' said the boy brightening under this .faint prospect of recognition in his loneliness. The two men glanced at each other. The leader looked at the boy curiously and said : ' Are you the son of Colonel Brant, of Louisville V 1 ' Yes, sir,' said the boy, with a dim stirring of uneasiness in his heart, ' but he's dead now,' he added finally. j •Ah ! When did he die ?' said the man, 1 quickly. { * Oh, a long time ago. I don't remember him much., I was very little,' said the boy, half apologetically. ' Ah, you don't rethembei' him ?' 1 •< No,' said Clarence shortly, Pc was beginning to. fall baok upon tbab certain dogged repetition which, in sensitive children, arises from their hopeless inability to express their deeper feelings.' He also nad an instinctive curiousness that this want of recollection of his father was part of that vaguo wrong that- had been done him. It did not help hi« expression that he felt that the second of the two men turned, and with a half-laugh misunderstood or- did nob | believe him. > ' How did you come with the Silsbees ?' asked the first man. .Clarence repeated mechanically, wi,th. a child's distaste of practical details, how he had lived with an aunt ab Sc. Jo, how his stepmother had piocured his passage with the ..Silsbees to California, where he was to meet his cousin. All .this, with a lack of interest and abstraction that he was miserably conscious told againbt him, but he- was yet helpless to resist. The first man remained thoughtful, and then glanced at Clarence's sunburnt hands. Presently his large, good-humoured smile ' returned. ' Well, I suppose you are hungry ?! ♦ Yes, said Clarence shyly.' - ' Bub, '•' ♦Bub what?' , • I should like, to wa^h, myself a little,' said Clarence, hesitatingly, thinking of the clean ten,b.,theofo«ttJadyand Suzy's ribbons.

' Certainly,' said his friend, with a pleased , look. 'Come with me.' Instead of leading plarence to the battered tin basin and bar ot yellow soap which.had formed the toilet? service of the Siisbee party, he brought the boyinto one of the waggons where there was a washatand, a china basin and a cake of scented soap.;,. Standing beside Clarence ho watched him perfot'nibis ablutions with an approving air which rather embarrassed his protege.' Presently, he said abiuptly : ' Do you remember your father's house at Louisville V ' Yes, sir ; but it is a long time ago.' Clarence remembered it as being very different from hishome at St. Joseph, but from some innate , feeling of diffidence he ( would have shrunk from describing it in that way. He, however, said he thought it was. Yet themodest answer only made his new friend look at him the more keenly. ' Your father was Col. Hamilton Brant, of Louisville, wasn't he ?' he said, half confidentially. * Yes,' said Clarence, hopelessly. * Well,' said his friend, cheerfully, as if dismissing an abtruse problem from his mind, ' let's go to supper.' When they reached the tent again Clarence noticed that the supper was laid only for his host and wife and the second man, who was familiarly called 'Harry, ( but who spoke of the former as cMr and Mrs Peyton,' while 1 the remainder of the party, a dozen men, were by a second camp lire, and evidently enjoying themselves in a picturesque fashion. .Had the boy been allowed to choose he '„ would have joined ,them, " partly be.cause jt seemed more * manly,', and L , partly' tn'at he dreaded a re.newal of the questioning,.' But here Suzy, sittifig" Vbolt ' uprighV. on, ,an extemporised h'igir stool', happily diverted his attention by pointing tof'the ebpty chairs beside her. ' (' ( ' ~ if ! ' 'Kla'-uris',' she sdiA; imd/lenly, w^h n « r usual clear' and appalling frankness, 'they is' chickens and "ha'man&igs and hot biksquits and 'lasses, and Mister Peyton says I kin have 'em all.' Clarence, who had suddenly begun to feel that he was responsible for Suzy's deportment, and was balefully conscious that she was holding her plated fork in her chubby fist by its middle,and from his previous of her was likely at any moment) to plunge it into the dish before her, said softly : * Hush.' ' Yes, you shall, dear,' said Mrs Peyton, with tenderly beaming assurance to'Suzy and a 'half reproachful glance at the boy. • Eat what you like, darling.' ' It's a fork,' whispered the still uneasy Clarence, as Suzy now seemed inclined to stir her bowl of milk with it. * 'Taint, now, Kla'tins !. it's only a split; spoon, 'said Suzy. ButiuiMrs -.Peyton, in- her rapt admiration, took small note of their -, irregularities, plying the child with food, .forgetting her own meal and 1 only stopping 'at times to lifb back the forward -straying curls on Suzy's shoulders. Mr Peyton looked on gravely and contentedly. Suddenly the eyes of husband and wife met. * She'd have been nearly as old as this, John,' said Mrs Peyton, in a faint voice. _ John Peyton nodded without speaking, and turned his eyes away with the gathering darkness. The man 'Harry' looked abstractedly at' his plate as if he was saying grace. Clarence wonderdd who ' she ' was, and why two little tears dropped from Mrs Peyton's ilashes into Suzy's milk, and whether Suzy might not violently object to it. He never knew until later that the Peytons "had lost their only child, and Suzy comfortably drained this mingled cup of another's grief and tenderness without suspicion. 'I suppose we'll come up with this train early to-morrow, if some of them don't find us to-night,' said Mrs Peyton, with a long sigh and a regretful glance at Suzy. ' Perhaps we might travel together for a little while,' she added,' timidly.' Harry laughed and Mr Peyton replied- gravely : 'I am afraid we wouldn't travel with trains, even for company sake,' and he added in a lower and graver voice, 'it's rather odd the search party hasn't come upon us yet, though I'm keeping Pete and Hank patrol ing the trail to meet them.' ' It's heartless, so it is,' said Mrs Peyton with sudden indignation. "'lt would be all very well if it was only this boy, who can take care of . himself, but ta be careless of a mere babylike this, it's shameful !' For the first time Clarence tasted the cruelly of discrimination, ,all the more keenly that he was beginning to worship, after -his boyish fashion, this, sweet-faced, clean and tender-hearted woman. « Perhaps Mr Peyton noticed it, for he came quietly to his aid. , ' Maybe they know better than we in what careful hands' they had 'left her,' he said, with a cheerful nod towards Clarence. ' And again, they may have been fooled, as we were, .by Injin signs, and left the straight road.' ' This suggestion instantly recalled to Clarence his vision in the mesquite. Should he dare tell them? Would they believe him or would they laugh at him before her ? He hesitated and at last resolved to tell it privately to the husband. When the meal was ended and he was made by Mrs Peyton's laughing acceptance' of hie offer to help her clear the table and wash the dishes, they all gathered comfortably in front of the tent before the large camp fire. Afc the other fire the rest of the party were playing cards and laughing, bub Clarence no longer cared to join them. He was quite tranquil in the maternal propinquity of his hostess-, albeit a little uneasy as to his reticence about the Indian. ' Kla'uns,' said Suzy, relieving a momentary pause in^ her 3 highest 'Voice, 'knows how to speak. Speak, Kla'uns.' 1 It appearing from Glarence's blushing explanation that this gift was not 1 the ordinary faculty of speech, butt a, capacity to recite verse, he was politely pressed by the company for a pei'formance. •>- ' * Speak- 'em, Kla'uns, the boy wliat stood unto the burnin' deck and .said, ,"- The boy, ,oh., wh'ere^was.he ?" '„ said Suzy,: comfortably lying down 'on Mrs Peyton's, lap' and contemplating "her bare knees in the air. ' It's 'bout a boy," she added confidently to Mra Peyton, ' whose father wouldn't never, never -stay with' him "on *a--»urriin' ship, though he said, "Stay, father, stay," ever so much.' : With this clear, lucid and perfectly satisfactory explanation of Mrs Heman's ' Casabianca,' Clarence began. Unfortunately, his actual rendering of this.,.pppulaif school ' performance was more an efforMf memory than anything else, and was, illustrated by those wooden gestures which a .Western schoolmaster had taught him. He described the flames that ' roared around him * by indicating ' with his hand a perfect circle, of which he was 'the axis. .He adjured his father, the late Admiral Casabianca, by clasping his hands before his chin as if wanting to be menaced in an attitude which he was miserably conscious was unlike anything h© himself had ever felt or seen.- before'. He described that father * faint in cieath below' and 'thei flag opt high,,' with one single moticoK. Y,et- something that the 1 verses had kintMeds | i,n his active imagination,' rather p^tihapsthan an ' illustration of the versi^fj. themselves, at times ,< brightened ' his gsey. eyes>, became tremulous in his youfchful voice,., and I fear occasionally incoherent on hislips. At times, wbw, not cqnscious. of hist

affected art, the plains and all upon ib seemed to him to slip away into the night, the blazing camp-fire at "his feet to wrap itself in a fateful eriory, and a vague devotion to something, he knew not what, so pbssessed him that he communicated it— and probably some of his own youthiul delighc in extravagant voice— to "his hearers, until when he ceased, with a glowing fare, he was surprised to find that the cardplayers had deserted their camp-iires aud eaihered round the tent