A CHRISTMAS ALARM.

Taranaki Daily News, 16 December 1921, Page 1 (Supplement)

A CHRISTMAS ALARM.

(Second Prize Short Story Competition.)

SAVED JUST IN TIME. A TALE OF THE BACKBLOCKS. (By C. Prideaux, New Plymouth.) When I had been for two years settled on my native lease up the I airama Road, three mile from Tairama township on the coast, the section adjoining mine was taken up by two mates, Charlie Dufaur and Jack Nelson. Both were excellent workers, but the former soon became by far the more popular; his mate Jack being a sullen individual, subject to occasional outbursts of temper. Still,they got on well together, and no one had any suspicion of strained relations between'them until the events I am about to narrate. Cliristmas was rapidly approaching. All the bush had been felled that was going to be, and the partners had a good area down and were awaiting fire in the autumn. The weather was growin" and people felt inclined to take life less strenuously, in view of the lack of the year’s work being broken, and of the approaching holidays. The Tairama Hotel tended to do an increasing business. We got rattling good beer down that coast in the old days. I did not altogether abjure the use of that hostelry. Consequently, on the evening of December 21, I rode down to the township, stabled my horse, and entered the hotel. After having several games of billiards, I sauntered into the bar to see what was doing, and was cordially greeted by its somewhat miscellaneous occupants—about half a tribe of Maoris of all ages and both sexes, aJI smoking briar pipes down to the baby in arms—their pakeha-Maori, who lived with them, a most intelligent man when sober, and reputedly deeply versed in ! Maori lore; the two brothers who kept I the store, old Judd, the pitsawyer, and Paddy, his mate; a- fair assortment of settlers, including Charlie and Jack; sundry bush fallers and fencers, and (but tell it not in Goth!) ihe schoolmaster. After having, as in duty bound, given and received sundry “shouts,” 1 glanced round the bar, and noticed that the two partners were not joining in

the general hilarity, but, on the contrary, appeared to be having a subdued altercation between themselves, their glasses standing untasted before them. Presently the buzz of conversation was broken by a string of curses from Jack Nelson, who hurled himself frenzied at his mate. The response, was a heavy blow on the “mark” from Charlie, which all but prostrated Jack. Recovering himself, however, he drew a sheath knife from his belt, and made a second furious onslaught. Rut this was going beyond what etiquette permitted on such occasions. Miss Walters, the charming daughter of the house, screamed aloud, though not a young lady easily perturbed about trifles; while her father, with two or three others, threw themselves on Jack, deftly disarmed him, and thrust him out through the door, his last audible words being, “I’ll do for you yet if I hang for you, you !!”

Interrogations were not lacking to Charlie from all and sundry; but with the splendid loyalty of the bushman, he declined to find any fault with his mate. “Just a drop of drink,” be said; “he’ll forget all about it in the morning. Sorry to hit him, but had to stall him off. Now you chaps, have one with me.” “And what do you think?” said I to the schoolmaster, who was standing beside me. •

“Well,” said the schoolmaster, “I know there’s been a bit of ill-feeling between them for some time. Jealousy, you know.” And he cast a meaning glance at Miss Walters, who, her equanimity restored, was drawing a long beer. * “Two mates- struck on one girl, and one gets just a tiny bit favored.” “Oh. go on with you,” said Miss Walters. “you know I’m only hero on business and I treat you all alike. Not one of you’s any good at all so far as that goes.” Miss Walters was a splendid blonde, with whom every roan in the district, including myself, was more or less in love. But her discretion was as undeniable as her beauty, and her reputation more undeniable than either, if possible. “Oh, I begin to see,” Raid T; “well, I hope no more trouble will come of it. But let’s have these glasses filled again.” 7 “Not a drop, not a drop,” said the schoolmaster; “You must remember I have an example to set here, and I always draw the line at nine. 1 m off home immediately. ’ As I. was already in double figures I thought I might as well accompanj’ him, a'nd we_passed out into the darkness together. Next day I was called away on urgent ■business, and on making the hotel again op the evening of the 23rd, I. dismounted, put my horse in the stable, aiid went in to have tea. We got a rattling good feed for a bob in the old days at the Tairama Hotel. 1 found the whole district in a buzz of excitement, the subject being the total disappearance of Charlie Dufaur. No human eye had, seen him since the night he left the hotel after simply vanished,

and left no trace. His mate Jack alleged that he had started off f*»m their whare very early the next morning for a day’s pig-hunting, and had simply not returned. In corroboration he pointed out that Charlie’s dog and rifle were both absent. It was a possible stoiy, certainly, and search parties had immediately been organised, and the whole country scoured for twenty miles round, but so far without result. There were many, however, who recollected the scene at the hotel, and professed entire incredulity about Jack’s story, and did not scruple to allege that Jack had murdered his mate and done away with his dog and rifle himself. ‘ These dark suspicions were deepened to a certainty by the disappearance of Jack, who had borne with increasing illtemper and profanity the constant cross-questioning to which he had been

5 subjected. It was reported that the police were on his trial on a Charge of 3 assault, with intent, even if the capital 3 charge could not be substantiated. Pub--1 lie indignation ran high against him, • Charlie having been so universally liked, and had he fallen into our hands it is hard to say what might have happened. After gathering all possible information from Miss Walters and others, 1 spent the next day, Christmas Eve, in assist* 1 ing at the search, but without avail, and retired to my bed that night a Very tired and hopeless man. It was not long before I fell into a deep sleep, which I considered would last uninterrupted till late Christmas morning. But it was not to be. I hardly seemed to have been unconscious for five minutes when without any warning ,the whole wall of mv room seemed to open out like a door in the darkness, revealing an exact image of the missing Charlie as I had seen him last in life, in dungarees and cotton shirt, but ghastly pale and with blood-stained bandages round both legs and one arm, besides a hideous gash over the eye-

brow. He seemed to be half-lying, halfsitting on the ground with his shoulder leaning against a tree-trunk, has lower limbs partly hidden in bunches of fern; the whole vision like a magic lantern picture, brilliantly illuminated, with ini' tense blackness all round. , Words cannot picture my terror. I | fully believed I was looking at the ghost of a murdered man. But I controlled myself sufficiently to say: “In God’s name, Charlie, are you alive or dead, and what can I do?” The apparition could evidently hardlv speak, but eventually said: “I’m alive! Help! The big rata! The waterfall'.” As soon as these words had been uttered the whole vision literally went out like an extinguished lamp, and 1 awoke in my bunk in a condition more easily imagined than described. 1 struck a match, and

found that it was only a quarter past two. I could not shake off the exceedingly vivid impression, and I felt further sleep was impossible. I roused myself, lighted a big fire, brewed some strong tea and sat up till day-break smoking and pretending to read, with those incomprehensible sentences ringing in my ears all the time. j At about seven, my nerves having f steadied down a bit, I cooked myself some breakfast, and feeling strangely unwilling to be alone, saddled my horse and rode down to the township. Early as it was, there appeared to be some commencement of Cliristmas festivities at the hotel. ' Sitting on the verandah, I noticed some half dozen Maoris, also the pakeha-Maori whom I have already mentioned, who politely wished me a merry Christmas.

Moved by some unaccountable impulse—for we were barely on speaking terms—l returned the salutation, and asked the man to come inside and have a drink. In the course of the ensuing conversation, and almost without intending it, 1 suddenly asked him if there was anything in the district of the nature of a waterfall. So far as I knew, the whole country for miles round was dead level, and I had heard af nothing of the sort nearer than Mount Egmont. The pakeha-Maori naturally asked why, and I determined almost against my will to confide in thia man, and told him the whole dream, adding: “but I’m afraid you will only laugh at me!” “A strange story,” said the pakeha- 1 Maori when 1 had finished; the more so. I as the Maoris do actually know of a little waterfall, a kind of creek, though I've never been there. If you don't mind my telling them your dream,” he added, “I’m sure some of them will guide you there. The Maoris are great believer in dreams. And I’ve lived so long with them that 1 don't feel like laughing at you at all. On the contrary, 1 think it would be wrong to disregard the warning.” In consenting, a brisk exchange of colloquial Maori ensued, and I presently I found myself in command of a band of six powerful young natives, as well as a contingent of pakeha volunteers, who were actuated. 1 fear, mainly by Ihe desire to eventually have the laugh of me. Little more remains to be told. After carving our way most of Christmas Day through dense nests of supplejacks, we finally emerged in sight of a little waterfall, the merest trickle, with a swamp at its foot. And there, leaning against a huge rata, we found Charlie exactly as he had appeared to me. Though much exhausted, after being refreshed with food and drink he wiffr able to tell us his story. He had actually gone pig-hunting, and had got on the tracks of a huge boar, Wfeich had soon killed his dog. Urged by revenge, he had followed the boar, finally obtaining a shot at it which failed to

I kill the animal suddenly charging him, and indicting some frightful nips before he succeeded in escaping up a whiteywood tree. While seated in the ’ orl \, he tore his singlet to strips and bound up the worst of his gashes. In the end the boar retired, probably to “\ e , Charlie scrambled down, and had lived for four days on swamp water. We arrived at the township on Boxinc Dav, bearing the wounded man, who speedily recovered. The charge against Jack was never proceeded with, Charlie positively refusing to give evidence against him. The two afterwards became firmer friends than ever, and both, eventually married, though neither secured the lovely Miss Walters. I have never accounted for my dream, to this day. My friend, professor S. t of Auckland, tells me it was onl£ coincidence. It may be