TWO MEN AND A HORSE.

Taranaki Daily News, 11 October 1921, Page 7

TWO MEN AND A HORSE.

AN INCIDENT OF LONG AGO. (By “Tahi Hereni.’*) Years have passed since then. It was somewhere in the seventies, or early eighties, of last century that a gang of men were camped near the confluence of the Mangorei stream with the Waiwakaiho. better known then, if not now, as “the meeting of the waters.” The men camped there were engaged in renewing the bridge over the Mangorei stream, when weather would permit them, but on thie particular day rain had been falling steadily, without showing any sign of abatement, for several hours. The bridge was stripped of its flooring, and as the traffic was almost nil, the men retired to their camp out of the persistent wet. It was not likely that anyone would come along wanting to cross, and if anyone did, the stream had risen too high for fording, so whoever came would have to go back or continue the journey on foot. But ’tie the unexpected that happens. A horseman came in sight, “sploushing” through the mud on a splendid weight-carrier, too high-spirited to be daunted by the beastly weather, for it was blowing half a gale, driving the rain fair against all progress. The bridge was reached, and then the rider discovered his dilemma. New Plymouth he must reach that night, but the Mangorei was by this time an unfordable torrent. The only alternative road was back to Egmont Village, down the Egmont Road to the Devon Line and so home to New Plymouth, by who knows what time? For metalled roads existed then mostly in imagination, and nothing was too bad to believe of any so-called road after dark set in. The rider, however, was not to be denied. He would have attempted the stream itself had not one of the bridge repairers offered to help him over, and, after some discussion, an agreement was arrived at. Eight-inch planks were laid in twos, side by side on the joists across the bridge, a length of 60 feet, and then, with the owner on- the near side and his volunteer friend on-the off, each stepping from joist to joist (12 x; 4 on edge, wet, too, at that) they led the horse acroes. He neither halted nor baulked, so strong was the confidence telepathically communicated to him by his two guides. The rider reached his home safely, and the bridgeman sought his tent contentedly, but each must have felt respect for the other’s nerve, as well as admiration for the horse they piloted so well. When Mr. Stanley Shaw meets Mr. John Gotter, perhaps, say, on hi-J (S.S.’s) occasional visits to Inglewood, does he ever fail to live over again those thrilling few minutes that passel while they crossed the Mangorei on that open bridge, with the foaming torrent beneath, lashed by the downpour from above, and the high-spirited beasi between them, whose slightest elip might mean utmost disaster?