LXIII.

Waikato Times, Volume XIX, Issue 1592, 16 September 1882, Page 5

LXIII.

Bunakum, upon .whom death had now set' ihis infclelible stamp, was in the act, of | draining off a glass of brandy, which had ;been given him by -Prudence, who herself ; showed evidences of .sharing with him, when ! Jack entered. His eye caught bight of his son immediately, and he uttered a strange cry. ," Come at .last," said he, as if greatly relieved. " Come to see the old man, die." " I hope not, father," said Jack, in a tender tone, for in the presence of death all his anger at his^ unnatural parent's past, conduct died away. " I hope not. We will be able to make you strong by-and-bye." "No fear !" said the dying man, in his old slangy way '^My time's run ; my shift's up, and I hear the Great Manager calling me to come for my wages. Wages I" he cried, with a .terrible laugh, l " And such wages. Jack, you don't know our manager ; he pays in very hard coin." " My good man," said the minister, a grave personage of reverend aspect, " The wages of sin is .death ; but at the eleventh hour the greatest sinner may return." . v > "Pooh," said Bunakum, ' who now seemed strong and hearty ; " don't talk to me that kind of stuff ; 1 talked too much of it in my old time not to know its value. Do you think when I've been working for the devil every shift during the year, I can go and claim my wages oil the Almighty for a few minutes' spell on New Year's Eve ? Not likely." The minister and the listeners shuddered. " You shouldn't talk that way, Bunakum," said Prudence, whimpering, taking a sip at the same time ; "it all comes through your not taldng another drop." " No, no," said the old man, " I'll have no more N just now. I have something to do. Where's the magistrate ?" " Here," said a policeman, who was standing by> and a 'gentleman advanced to the bedsicle. The policeman took pen and ink. ■ , " Whatever statement you have to make," said the magistrate, "be as clear as possible." " Yes," said Bunakum, " I'll be clear enough, I warrant, clearer than will be good for some people, come closer to me." Jack went nearer to his father. The others gathered round in a circle. Prudence seized the opportunity to devote herself to the brandy bottle. She argued that Bunakum would require little of it after he had made his confession. " Jack," said Bunakum, " You remember the night when you fished me out of the creek at Grit, don't you ? Well, after you'd left I fell in with a fellow — he was afterwards killed at the Southern Cross Company's mme — and he treated me, which was welcome, seeing the drenching I'd got. After that somehow or other I wandered down the street. I don't know why I went that way, but I did go. It was a queer night, the moon breaking out of lhe/;louds accasionally, and the winds moaning through the trees like ghosts talking. When I came opposite where Janet's tent was — you know, Jack— Lheard loud talking. I listened, and sure enough, it was your mother and Hector. They were talking in an excited manner, but as everyone was away, looking after the flood or drinking in honor of the occasion, there was no one to hear them except me. And I wish — I wish I hadn't heard them. It might have been better for us all. But I hated her, in my way, which wasn't much, for so long as 1 got a glass of liquor, I cant say I had much bad feeling for anyone. Still I had a sore about the way she'd cut me, and it gave me a sort of pleasure to hear her quarrelling with him. I suppose it's natural. So I heard her accusing and threatening him; and bitter words she used, very bitter ; buj; they were truth, and that made them the more galling. Now and then he'd speak, and I shook in my shoes for fear he'd know I was round. I crept a bit closer, and getting behind a btump, watchad them. He was sitting by the table looking as black as a thundercloud — you know how black he can look, Prudence?" ' ' " Don't I !" was the interrogative, reply of Prudence, ai she hastily put by the untasted glass. " Well, by-and-by, it seemed as if he could stand it no longer. He stood up looking so terrible, that I felt a could sweat breaking out" all over me, and I shook like a leaf— as Ido now. ' Stop this talk,' said he, ' I'Ve had enough of you and I am resolved never to see you again. If it wasn't for the law I'd kill you.' 'Do,' says your mother; 'I'd sooner be dead than live as Ido how. But if you leave • me, you shall never marry another woman. You've told me your past life, and the world, will know it to-morrow.' You aught to have seen him then. If ever I saw a devil in human shape it was Hector at that moment." It was terrible to see Jack just then. His face was pale, his eyes flashed with excitement,] his breast heaved and fell. At last the long wished for revelation was at hand. " He stood stock still for a few minutes,"' continued Bunukum, " and then he said between his teeth : ' Fool I was to trust a woman 1' For a jbit, he seemed to hesitate ; but all at once he made a rush at Janet and caught hold of her by the throat. 0 1 the dreadful things that followed. I heard her give one cry, then there was a sound of struggling. When I looked again he was kneeling over her. She never moved. He got up and turned his face towards me."' Jack's^ emotions could not be controlled. He sprang up, his face flushed, his eyes darting fire. ". Peace, peace," said the minister, " Delay not the confession that seals the doom of the murderer." But it was not until Bertha took his hand in hers .and soothed him, that Jack was quieted. Then he sankt upon a chair and burst into tears. The picture of his mother's murder was more than he' could bear. It was as he had so long thought. " That face !" cried" Bunukuna, himself how dreadfully excited, "I've never forgotten that face. It was not the face of a living man—itwas the face of a corpse. "He glanced once more at your mother, and rushed out of the tent. I don't know how it was ; just then I lost my head and jumped-up. He saw me at once. I felt as ifl,d been tarried into stone. ■Up he came, his eyes afire. ' You saw all this ? I couldn't speak ; I drbpp" cd ' down on my knees. ' I will kill you too,' he said in,an awful voice, and-he.caught me by the throat, but I found time to "cry\out ' Hector, don't kill me ; I'll never say a word about it. I've been, your true, irtend, ( ajad fc'll 'always be. 'You, were provokedC to 'cloJt.',, He 'stopped , s then, antt I .pleaded in 'every way I knew, for jyHen.ypur life's^at you see]a chance

I out. But when the clay came I always went , back on'it. Then she would come with hundreds of horrible beings and make me Unromise again. ' And she's been here- to- 1 Wight, up to the very time I finished. ( Now I she is gone,- and with her all the horrors; I ' feel better now, better', better 1" ■ ' - , 'It was very' easy to see, however, that the temporary excitement which 'had borne him Up" was dying, away. 1 * Imagination had so far tormented him by calling up terrible images,' but now thai he had lifted a load off his mind she let him rest. ' ' » "Is that all down in black and white?" asked Bunakum, faintly. ■ "It is," replied the -magistrate. " Now sign." Bunakum signed. It was" 1 a strange signature. At his best he never pretended to write a good hand,'; but the'caligraphyon this occasion was more "than ordinarily hieroglyphical. " You've not explained," said Jack, " how Bridget O'Eegari and her husband became mixed up in the affair." Bunakum winced. " Hecter's fears' alone made them dangerous," saidhe; " Bridget O'Kegan saw us coming from the direction of Janet's place, and of course had she said all she could have said the circumstantial evidence would have been strong. But you lofow them times, Jack. We 'gave a good explanation to our friends about Bridget's seeing us and they arranged to give the old couple a few shiners to keep them quiet, i But it was a bad investment ; for they .never ceased to persecute Hector afterwards, and though he told them they knew nothing, yet v he always gave them money. About their death I'd sooner say nothing ; - it's about the only thing that weighs heavy on me. I could have sayjed^ them." " I feel so easy now," said Bunakum, " and you, Prudence, can bear witness to a great deal more." "That I can," was the ready reply., "He lehearsed the scene often enough in his dreams by my side. A small drop old man ?" " Yes, yes, I'm tired out," said Bunakum, taking a glass ; but it fell from his nervele&s hand. Prudence put another glass to his lips and he drained it off. "Jack," said Bunakum, in a low voice; "you're young yet. Take an old man's advice and never taste a drop of drink. You see what it has brought me down to. You know I might have been rich, respected and hapj>y, only for my fondness for drink. Don't be lazy ; that's the father of all that's bad." Jack did not reply ; he was thinking of the course he would adapt to bring Hector Macinnis to justice. His lofty position would prove an obstacle, for who would believe such a terrible accusation against so eminent a man ; especially when the principal accuser was a half lunatic drunkard. He was aroused from his reverie by a cry from Bunakum. " I believe I'm going," said he ; "it seems as if I was all water, and I'm sure I haven't taken mtxch of that stuff." " Shall I pray ?" asked the x minister. "If you like,'' said Bunakum. "The* lights are going out fast, and the drive's getting very dark. I see a lot of people. There's Harry, and Jim and Joe, afl dead years gone by. Look' out boys ; the old man's going home to meo^ you. He's lived in Grit until everyone's forgotten him. But you know me, old friends, old pals, in the great digging days when gold was plentiful. It's mighty dark, though, and the bar is hard, very hard — all sandstone. Miners of Grit the old man's going home! homel and the tyrant will have it all his own way, up in his pleasant palace on the hill. Strike, men of Grit! Strike hard! the rock's going! there's the light of the candles. Ah ! Is this the Eeef?" And Bunakum was dead. There was one person who did not witness his death, Prudence Macinnis had slipped out of the room unobserved.