NO WOMAN'S LAND

Wairarapa Times-Age, 22 July 1938, Page 10

NO WOMAN'S LAND

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT COPYRIGHT

BY

JANE ENGLAND

CHAPTER XXV.. (Continued.) She stared at him with horror, and a scarlet flood poured into her face and spread down to her throat. “I ... I was. But I couldn’t do that.” She wanted to explain more clearly, to tell him just how she felt. But she couldn’t say anything at all, and after a moment he dismissed the subject. “Well, I’ll put the wagon to the Hastings’ boundary for you. The oxen are ready, and if you let me know. I’ll haul it for you to the reserve. Let’s get started, shall we?” “It’s awfully nice of you,” she mumbled. “Nothing,” he remarked, and smiled at her with that indifferent, unamused smile. She watched the wagon inspanned with a professional and critical eye. He certainly could handle oxen. Surprising, when you thought that he had come from England. Few Englishmen could handle trek oxen. When the team was inspanned, and the wagon moved with protesting squeaks and groans from the unoiled wheels, she fetched her pony and led it alongside. Drew waved the long ox whip and cracked the lash, and the team heaved at the yokes. She walked silently by his side, and watched the native who led the team, walking slowly along' the red, dusty track. , It was a funny thing, she thought, that in spite of the way he was so often rude, in spite of'his disconcerting manner of looking and speaking, she was content to be with him. She had the oddest feeling that they were both on the same side, as it were. She didn’t mind what he said or did; it was all perfectly natural. After a time, she said in a musing voice, “I wonder what’s happened to Old Jack'. I suppose you don’t know him, but he’s a prospector, and he usually turns up here every few months. He never finds any gold.” “Perhaps he’s found some this time,” suggested Drew. She was surprised to find tears rushing into her eyes at the thought of Old Jack finding gold at last after all these years. “If he had,” she said at last, “I’m sure he’d have come to tell me. He used to tell me a lot.” Drew said nothing. He whirled the whip, and let out a long, wailing shout at the oxen. Nella looked at him incredulously. “Where did you learn that?” she asked. “Learn what?” His face became sour, bitter, and unfriendly. “That yell. It’s the same sort of yell that Peter Groenwald uses . . .” “I learnt it from him. I admired it so much.” It was an obvious lie, but she didn’t trouble to argue about it. She didn’t even trouble to wonder why he should lie. It was completely unimportant. Deliberately, she began to think about the Hastings, about the gum trees that David was planting, and how they would make a shady, rustling avenue in about five years’ time; about the way the slag heap was being removed, load after load, and how strange the landscape looked as the heap diminished and the platforms came down. How already the rose trees were set in a circular bed, and how flaring pink geraniums cascaded out of wire baskets on the verandah. And how Dolly had made a lawn. She felt a faint and vexed irritation to think of all the money being spent on making Bloots beautiful, when it ■ could have been spent on crops and : cattle. If only she could spend money I on crops and cattle! Suddenly she gasped, and jerked the pony’s bridle so that he stamped and ) shuffled. Ahead was the boundary drift, and silhouetted against the sky on the other side was David Hastings, and near him Hudson’s cape cart. David’s own oxen were strung along the skyline like a frieze. But she said nothing; only tramped , silently on, and Drew, for his part, showed no signs of having noticed anything.

I David had walked round the back of the homestead and found Dolly wearing a huge straw hat, superintend- . ing a small piccanin who was watering the couch grass. She was also endea'v- ’ ouring to instruct two natives who were supposed to be making a pergola. When she saw David, and behind him 16 oxen with yokes being led by a native, and followed by another who carried a whip, she left the embryo pergola, lit a cigarette, and walked to- ■ wards him. “Darling,” she said, “you look too too Outpost of Empire.” j “And you,” said David amiably, ■ “look like a very good imitation of a Lady Making a Garden.” “I am actually making garden,” said Dolly. “I’m going down the drift to collect the wagon,” said David. Dolly' frowned. “You know,” she said, “I haven’t seen Wentworth for three weeks, and I heard from old Mother Marshall that Archie Fellowes has been selling cattle. And, in addition, that the night before last he was in. Klinter’s Dorp very tight.” David grinned. “The complete gossip! But seriously my dear, what do you think he’s doing? Making a bolt for it? Leaving our Nella in the lurch? Had I better ] go over with a shot gun, and say “You ! will do right by our Nell?” I “Don’t be a fool,” said Dolly tersely. : I wish he would make a bolt for it. ! But you know darn well that he was ] over here three days ago, and two days ■ before that, and that every time he ! comes over he behaves as if Nella j were bound to him by ropes of steel, I and he upsets her and makes her feel

(Author of “Sjambok,” “Trader’s License,” &c.)

unhappy. And then he goes away again. If you want my opinion, I think he’s not quite balanced.” “Well, when all is said and done, it’s a rotten position for him,” said David. “Oh, you make me sick!” exploded Dolly. “Loyalty of men to men, I suppose! I suppose it doesn’t matter that he’s behaving with the most sickmaking selfishness, that he’s full of his own trivial grievances, and doesn’t trouble in the least about the false position into which he has put Nella.” “Well,” said David. “The poor devil is in a rotten position. And I suppose it wouldn’t really help if he were to get engaged to Nella. I mean, it would only give a fresh impetus to the rumours.” “Nonsense,” said Dolly. “First of all, he announces that he wants to marry her. And now, when he could marry her, he skulks. And as a result, every nasty-minded man in the district laughs. If he snooped off, it would be the foulest sort of smack at Nella. And I don’t know that she ought to go riding about the country, and seeing such a lot of this Drew-En-gleburg man. I mean, if he’s the sort of homicidal maniac that Wentworth seems to think. “Darling, I think that Wentworth rather led you up the garden about that. Drew’s a disgruntled sort of blighter; but he’s English, and he was in with Puggi'e Dallis. D’you remember Puggie? Bloated old bird . . . but rich. He put Drew on to some good things. They were in the same battallion. in France.” “Still I don’t like it,” said Dolly, “Peter Drew is a queer bird.” “Personally, I think our Nella is in love with him, though, she doesn’t know it yet.” it yet.” “She might well be,” said Dolly gloomily. “I’d think better of her if she were.” “Then why worry about Archie?” “Oh, you don’t see anything. Don’t you see how mixed up with Archie she is at the moment. Why, even Peter Drew knows that she’s supposed to be engaged to Archie. And everybody knows that Archie never does a thing about it ... I wish Wentworth would turn up,” added Dolly vaguely, and went back to her pergola. David walked on towards the drift. Once he looked over his shoulder, and saw Bloots, white and grey, against the hot blue of the sky, and saw, too, with a faint shock, how different it all looked with the gallows down, with the diminished slag heap, and the swelling brow of the red earth against the skyline. The oxen walked slowly down the track, throwing up little balloons of red dust from their hoofs; and their native driver, walking behind, twirled his whip bravely, and shouted ilyThen, as they came to the drift, David heard the rattle and crash of a mule cart, and Hudson’s cape cart topped the bank and pulled up. The mules stood still, sweating and twitching, and Hudson gave a stupid and ingratiating smile. Hastings saw what neither Nella nor Drew had seen: Hudson was a little drunk. He grinned ingratiatingly again. “Old scores forgotten,” he said impressively, “new start. I’nt- not 'a policeman how. I was only doing my duty. But now I’m just ordinary.” “Ah, that’s interesting,” said David, “but it’s nothing to me.” “I’m not dealing at your store,” added David. “Sorry, Hudson, but there’s nothing doing. Better get going.” “No! But listen,” said Hudson. “You don’t understand. I want to explain.” “Don’t bother,” began David, when he,saw Nella and Drew far away along the road, coming towards the drift. CHAPTER XXVI. To Archie Fellowes life had become unutterably dreary and complicated. He felt a swine, because now he knew that he didn’t wan’t to marry Nella, that after all that had happened he couldn’t marry her. Through her he had been suspected of murder. As he went about his farm he tried hard to be fair, to push that resentment out of his mind. But it stayed there, and he knew he was being unfair, and felt a cad about jt. He began to sell bunches of cattle, deceiving himself as he did so that he was overstocked, or that he wanted to try a different breed. But in reality he was already on the run. He didn’t admit it, even to himself, but he was going. It was a rotten time to sell land. Nobody was buying, and prices were as low as they could be. But he found that at all hours of the day and night he was calculating as to just how little he would take for the land. The only other thing that obtruded into his withdrawn egotism was the thought of Hudson. He wanted very badly to know why the man had come back to the district. He would have thought that Hudson would have stayed as far away as possible. So why had he come back? And as a result of all these thoughts and calculations, he began to avoid the Club. Because in the Club were men who asked questions. Then one day Hanslow rode over, his round blue eyes full of speculation. He looked sharply round the homestead and the farm buildings as if he might find some clue as to what Fellowes was thinking and doing. The dribbling sale of the cattle was intriguing the district. But his excuse for coming was that Archie had missed the last farmers’ meeting, and was he going to up for the next one?” “I don’t know,” said Archie. “You ought to,” said Hanslow impressively. “You’re making a mistake keeping out of the way like this. By the way, if you want to sell any more cattle, why not sell to Hastings? The man’s buying; but you won’t get a

newcomer’s price from him.” Hanslow gave a throaty giggle. “Because Nella Howard is telling him what to pay. You know, we were mistaken about that girl. She’ll make a good wife for some farmer.” He peered inquisitively at Archie, who shrugged his shoulders, and said something to the effect that he didn’t think he’d be selling any more cattle at the moment. “You know that chap Hudson,” pursued Hanslow, “well, he’s pretty' fed up, I can tell you. Someone’s gone and brought up all the bills that were owed him. Done through a solicitor,it was, and the debtors were informed that there was no hurry for them to pay. Well, I mean, none of us wanted to deal with him, but lots of us owed money, and that made it a bit difficult. So now we’re all buying outside. Doing it more, or less on a co-operative basis; send in our orders and arrange for delivery on the same day. And then one of us collects all the stuff and delivers it. Take turns at it. Why don’t you join in?” “I don’t buy enough,” said Archie. “Well, if you ever want to, you know what to do now. He’ll have to quit in the end. It’s going to break him.” “That’s odd,” said Archie thoughtfully, “I wonder who bought up the debts.” (To be Continued).