THE WASTER'S CHANCE

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LV, Issue 247, 8 March 1913, Page 9

THE WASTER'S CHANCE

AN EPISODE 01- THE UOEII WAll

(By E. liyßon)

We sat down outside illocuifontein for six. lew-stricken weeks before the army faced north again towards Pretoria. We sat down near (lie Aioddcr river, about seven miles from Thalia N'chu. and waited for fresh horses and ammunition. Dav bv day the lumbering anibulanees ear'fed'awav the sick to Dloeinl'mitein Hospital, aiid every day down Markland street rolled the buck waggon, piled hi»h with .lead, to the cemetery beyond the old fort. .Many of the Waster's comrades took that journey m two stage--—Hie end was the big grave that lav'" open until layers of deaii men and quicklime rose close to the surface. Death had a merry time in those sunny six weeks. Hut'the Waster did not get enteric: lie got fat-fatter than ever before. He was free from care, free from the menace of Mauser bullets and screaming shells. His old-time gaiety of manner returned to him. and the fine appetite that was naturally his. now that his fears had left him, urgently insisted on being attended to. The waster became of the very finest, the most skilful and eompletest forager in an army of petty of larcenists of foodstuffs. '

'•Waster." they said—"Old Waster think- about nothing but his stomach." Once he stole the remaining two fowls from Widow Van Start. Several times he returned to camp with more than a dozen eggs. lie captured a thin sheep and a mangy goat, and stewed and ate them both. ' At the very worst he thrived upon great supplies of mealie meal, levied from bewildered Kaffirs. He laid tribute in a score of ways upon the scant supplies of a hungry and exhausted land. One evening he rode his Basuto pony into the lines, and pegged him down with an air of satisfaction. "Oh. Waster,'' they shouted at him. "What luck?" Tie beamed on them. "Fine," he said: "done first rate." "Did y'eat it all? Ain't there none for ns?" "Did I eat it all ?" he retorted. "Didn't T think of you boys at home? Ain't it mv stvle?"

Tlirr crowded romii] liim. noiing (lift fat haversack tliat rested by his fat side.

The Waster enjoyed the recital of his foraging exploits. It was his speciality, the acquisition of provisions. That was the direction in which his" military genius lay. He could fatten while others starved, and justly he was proud of his accomplishment. Ilor-ee came suddenly from Port Elissafieth, London 'bus horses, draught horses and cab horses, and in the chill hour before dawn the brigade stole northward on a morning in May. Horses, men, guns and waggons streamed across the golden veldt as the sun rose, and the wonderful fresh African day smiled upon another Oreat Trek.

And De Wet put up a battle. As battle- go in history it was not a verv imposing affair. Beside Inkerman. Waterloo or Mukden if was nothing. But to those who were concerned in it, it was a very strenuous argument indeed, a very laborious, slaughterous, perspiring controversy. There is no special clasp for it upon the South African ribbon, because it had little meaning and little result. But it meant a'groat deal of hard work, a considerable amount of danger and little ease to the men who fought in it. To the Waster it meant no breakfast, no dinner. and—Death. Tt also meant more glory than he ever expected. There was a chill bivouac on the northern bank of a great river. As the evening turned the gaunt bushes into fantastic shapes, and the sentries before the outpost began to strain their eyes in trying to <ee through the gathering gloom, a sudden storm came up and the rain came down in torrents, and put out the feeble little fires. -Steadily the heavens soaked till midnight. At one o'clock the drenched troopers were stealthily aroused. Orders were given in whispers, more particularly but aggravatingly. that no matches'should he used. The cold, llabby saddlery was girthed upon the shivering horses, and. in the starlight that comes incredibly quicker after rain, the brigade staggered away to the unknown.

It is a dreary thing to ride damply in the small hours towards the inscrutable. It U a sad thing to halt at daylight, feeding the horses, and not feeding one's self. And it is a miserable, deplorable. mis;il isf;>lrnry (hing not to know what it all means.

The forenoon mellowed and warmed, and the -itii blazed down upon the hungry thousands who. away from the rc-.t of ihe army, moved slowlv over the undulating veldt. Kopjes of a dainty :bluenc— Jay at wide intervals across the edge of the yellow world. Little herds "f spnnkhok lied noiselessly before the advance of the profane and' hungry brigade. Tin. gnus rumbled along on the right dank. At noon they hailed, and ■when the march began again it. wa- at ■right angles io its I'urmer direction. ■ -What ho!" .-aid the wise; "we're get■ting round behind 'em.''

The Waster nin-ed sorrowfully upon his condition on' hunger, and fearfully as I" i lie pos-ible si rite which i lie midnight march, the weary trekking- of the for.enooii. and this sudden turning to the right might mean. lie thought uneasily of the bullets, and often looked at. the big warrens of the nieer-cols. with a longing to thrust, himself into one of ihe dark holes that made the ground so .treacherous (~ mounted men. An oppressive melancholy be-el him. lie wondered if anyone would notice or miss him if he ju-t' slid out of sight,. |!ut I hey all seemed to he noticing, and I hey eveu chaffed him. recalling uis former fright. "Waster.'' said one. '•you dunno - they might be gel ting your rang-.- now."

Ami just as he spoke, the lir.st shell arrived in their midst, without any announcement. It wa- from a high-velocity gnu. and the noise of its crashing burst all-owned the ■•boom" of the gun's discharge. Six horses lay still or kicked the ground. Two men were dead, and one crawled about blindly with a red mask to his face. The regiment had been riding knee to knee. At once it scattered Io moie open interval, and at once came the rush of six more screaming shells. Hack came Bowler's scouts. for live minutes there was confusion, and in that live minutes the Waster made his military reputation, and perished in glory.

There was a panic in his soul. There was a vague terror of persecution, which he had experienced before, that certainly he was the focus upon which the path of destruction concentrated.

"Mv Cod!'' he groaned. "What have I done?"

In his terror lie dropped his rille and clung to his horse's neck. Hurrying men forgot the shells and yelled with laughter. Hut one came by. The sergeant: major of a rearward squadron saw the Waster crouching ill'the snrldle along his terrified horse's neck. His quick eye saw the rille lying in the grass, and his heavy hand smote the Waster in the ribs as he galloped past him. The Waster fell off his horse.

"Voit ■- coward."' ihe sergeant-major roared, as he rode, "pick up vour -- - rille!"

The sergeanl-major had his leg shattered and his horse killed under him be

fori- )n> had ridili'ii the next fifty yards towards the crest, hchind which the h»ig:idc was hastily dismounting. lint his words impressed the Waster. He crawled towards his riile, stretching out a trembling hand, grasped it, and Mumbled to his feel.

From the ere*l came the roar of rifles. Further away another crash of rides answered it, and with the sound of screaming shells over the Waster's head mingled the splitting whisper of the Mauser bullets beside his ears. lb- turned to run for cover, hut the nearest kopje was a mile away. Hut distance did not matter. lie ran blindly. In front of him a volcano of earth sprang with a crash from the ground. He turned about and ran, panting, in the opposite direction. A string of pom-poms tore the ground in front of him. He spun round diz/ilv, still grasping his rifle. His helmet'fell oil'.' He stooped to pick it up. As he did so, with feet wide apart, a ''plugged" sevenponndcr shell struck the earth between them, tore out of the ground, ricochetting across the veldt, until, tumbling over and over, it come to rest three hundred yards away, without bursting.

The Waster fell over backwards. He was unharmed. He picked himself up slowly, dazedly. His eyes were starting from their sockets, for beside him lay a dead horse, and beyond him a groaning and helpless man. With all his running and turning he had made little headway. Seeing the mangled horse and the fact of the groaning sergeant-major, nis da/.ed brain seemed to clear. He forgot his terror, forgot the screaming shells and the whisper of the Mauser bullets. He dimly remembered having seen a golden-haired child clinging to this same man and crying: "Oh, don't leave me; don't leave me! Come back soon!"

Tlie Waster in earlier, peaceful times, in far-off Canada, had worked at, the docks, a laborer, lifting and carrying heavy burdens. Sow, with all the strength and knack that were in him, lie gathered up the helpless and suffering man, the dead weight taxing his muscles cruelly, and this time started ofi" in the right direction, towards the lumbering ambulances that had been hastily summoned to the firing line.

He had already carried him more than half the distance when his old horror came upon him. Little spurts of earth were springing up all about him. Screaming shells went hurtling over his head, ilis chest labored, and ho breathed with a gasping mouth. His limbs ached bitterly. He staggered on under his burden. In his misery and terror he would have liked to drop his burden and flee from it. But he was close to shelter now : close to the hastily-erected emergency hospital, out of the awful bullet-swept zone. The stretcher-bearers were coming towards liim. Why did they come so slowly? They had no heavy burden to carry! Surely they could hurry! A few more yards and he would have been safe, when a stray bullet pierced his brain.

Three years afterwards, unveiling the memorial tablet erected to his memory, Sir .Tames spoke in part as follows:

" 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friend.' Tie died for his Queen, for his country. He died that others might live. • The bullet that killed him killed a hero. Tam proud to be called upon to unveil this tablet in his memory. May the glory of his brave deed never fade."

Amidst the crowd listening to these words was a man with but one leg, his eyes dim. tears coursing down his cheeks, and clinging to him was a weeping, gold-en-haired child.—Canadian Magazine.