THE SWAGGER.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2652, 6 November 1909, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE SWAGGER.

(By M. FORREST.) “The fact of the matter is,” she said, “that you arc no bushman!” She laughed as she spoke, though she was beginning to find the situation annoying. The Simpsons expected -them to lunch, and it was now half-past twelve, and there was not a sign of habitation along the lonely bush track which ribboiicd between sandstone ridges and patches of stunted, firescorched grass trees. She had no fancy to arrive somewhere in the middle of the afternoon, if at all, at the Simpsons’, and be chaffed about love’s blindness to landmarks. Her love had never made her blind—not with this man, her future husband, who sat with a puzzled expression' on his face, in the seat beside her. Ho was a capital whip and handled the reins in an expert manner, but it was true that he was no bushman, as he had only been a few

months out from England. They had come out on the same ship. She was returning from her twelve months’ “fly round” in Europe; he was voyaging to Australia for the first time. : •‘I am sure I have swallowed Simp son’s instructions to the letter,’;’ he said, pulling up the horses in the shade of a wide-branched tree. ‘‘Didn’t we pass a broken; fence on the right—or did lie say the left? And the. sheep yards and the chock-and-log, and something that was like a lagoon. '. ; . . Simpson must have misled us for a joke!”' ' y. “He isn’t such a fool,” she answered crossly. “Ob' dear! How hot the sun is!”

The Englishman looked hurt. “I suppose we can only drive on and see -what happens,” he said encouragingly. “We must arrive somewhere in time.”’

She glanced at the sweating horses. “They must want a drink.” She spoke resentfully. “Poor beasts!” “If only we had something to eat, we might make a picnic of it and give the Simpson best,” he said, taking off his heavy driving gloves, and baring liis hands to the blistering heat. She relented a little. “Yes. But I am hungry already, and-there seems to be nothing but grass-trees. Suppose we unharness for a while and give the horses a . drink The creek is, only a step back, and, then we can turn back the way we came and try leaving the broken fence on the other side; eventually we may find Simpson’s that way.” “Right.” He was out of the buggy in a minute, and busy with the ur tying of the horses. He didn’t particularly care if they never found Simpson’s. He preferred having his ladylove to himself, a thing lie did not often succeed in accomplishing. Ermentrude,, he found, was rather a standoffish young'person. “I think I will stay in the trap and laze,” she said, when the horses were led away from the pole. “There are sure to be ants and mosquitoes down there*. I will wait and study the tree-scape while you water the horses,” and she threw back her gossamer from her hot face. - He smiled. “You are looking awfully well to-day, in spite of your be-

ing hungry,” he said, admiringly. She laughed. “Oh! Dick, my dear, whatever you do don’t get sentimental; that would be the last straw!” But she kissed her fingers-at him, and lie went off, leading the horses, to where the dip in the road hid him from, sight. It was very still as she sat alone in the buggy looking at the winding road and the velvety brown tips of the grasstree spears. The soft cooing of a scrub dove unseen among the bushes come floating through the drowsy air, and a sudden clatter rose from a pair of kookaburras, perched high on,,the branch of a blue gum.

The air was full of the . pungent scents of eucalyptus, hot in the sun, the perfume of which the “native born sniffs for in vain in the ' humid stuff -

mess of' a London fog. Ermentrude •closed lier eyes and drew in long, satisfying breaths, and was glad, she was home again. Then the soft 'drag of footsteps through the .sand made her raise lien lids, and she saw a swaggercoming down the track towards her. He was to all appearances the usual sundowner of the back-blocks —blue blanket rolled in a bit of unbleached calico, slung over his shoulder, hilly swinging, white moleskins the worse for wear, grey flannel shirt, and hlucher boots. One of, our wanderers, a familiar sight to a bush-reared girl. .• “Perhaps he will be able to tell us where we are going to,” she thought, with a flicker of. amusement, accosting him with the ordinary "Good-day.” To her surprise he raised his hat as he looked up at- her. Slowly the color ebbed out of her rosy face, and her hands tightened on the buggy whip which she had mechanically grasped.

He-jerked his swag easily from! his shoulder and sat down in the road. “I did not know yon were home again,” lie said. 'T saw by the paper's that you had gone to England-” • She did not speak, only glanced over her shoulder in the direction Dick had taken. “How do you come to be sitting here?” he continued, standing up against the buggy wheel. “The horses are getting watered,” she answered faintly. “The gentleman who is driving me took them.”. “So you arc not married yet?”’ he asked with some surprise. “I thought you would have married long ago, Ermentrude.” The color came back to her face in a crimson wave. : “I thought you were dead,” slie said huskily. “I’m as good as dead l -— to you,” with a quick smile, a smile which sent a sword of sharp remembrance through her heart. “I have gone under since the days when wo were both university students; budding medico to swaggiel Heigh ho! And you. . . • Why, you must be twenty-five, Ermentrude !” :

“But how?” she asked, “how is it that you are. . . . like this?”

“My dear girl! Eve was no happier for having her question answered. Possibly you would not be! Do you know that life is divided into throe parts—Anticipation, Realisation, and Repentance. I have got all my three at an early age. -I was quite an infant prodigy. And the last—tho third part—is the longest of ali. Precocious children are never heard of in after life—infant prodigies never grow up. When they do—they are —what I am!” She twisted the lash of the buggy whip round her finger. ‘‘Why did you not tell me to come to you ” she said softly. “I always told you I would—when you sent for me.

“Because I had a little decency left, I suppose, after the general collapse of .•my high aspirations. The recording angel will allow that, anyhow, I did nuu irag you down, too.” ‘I wish you had,” she said. “I wish, rJ |i, I wish you had.” lie made no sound, but he put cue roughened hand, badly scarred by barcoo on the back, towards her glove! fingers, and then drew it. back hastily. ... “I didn’t know you cared—all that," lie said; then added quickly, “not that it would have made any difference; i had to let you go.” The beat of horses’ bool;-, clattering up the stony slope of the creek, can e to them. In a few minutes Dick would come through the trees leading the horses. She leaned over the wheel. “I would come now, if you asked me,” she said. 1 His eyes darkened and he threw back his shoulders, like a man suddenly recovering his . lost self-respect. Then he dropped his eyes and she noticed that the lashes were thick and black, as of old. Shei used once to tell him hew she envied him his eyelashes. He stooped towards his swag, as though, that marked the difference between them. .

“Then yon are a greater fool than I thought you were,” he said softly. . Dick came along the road, pulling impatiently at the lagging Horses’ mouths. “Who is this chap?” The swagger frowned as he spoke; it was not io easy to let her go—to another fellow. “The man I am engaged to,” she sa;J slowly. “The man I have never loved, and never shall love—the man I am going to marry next month—unless—” The appeal in her eyes was the bitterest, thing he had encountered in zX his days of bitterness. “There is no unless,” he said, fixing his swag on his back again. “Yen, will marry him.’’ Dick l swore gently at the near side buggy horse for stumbling, and then his' short-sighted eyes discerned the swagger.

“Hullo! Good-day!’ he bawled, “Can you tell me the road to Simpson’s? I believe we’re bushed!” It was easier to make that confession to a man than to a woman. The swagger knew the way to Simpson’s, and his directions were to the point. They must turn back to the broken fence; that was all, and follow it along for a quarter of a mile,, that would bring ■ them to a gate which opened on to a short cut to Simpson’s.

Dick thanked him while he harnessed up. The swagger.dent a hand; and all the while Ermentrude sat quite still, her veil pulled down over her face. Presently Dick climbed into the seat beside her, and shouting a cheery “So long”*- and “Thanks”—for the was. anxious to air. his colonialism—-to the “swaggie,” he cracked the whip and the horses started off at a quick trot. “We shan’t be so late getting there after all,” said Dick, consolingly. He thought Ermentrude was -annoyed at the delay. , \ She nodded her head in answ.gr, and a flock of small green parrokeens • flew across their path and hung twittering in the overarching.ligh’twood tree. Behind them, through the heavy sand, the- swagger plodded on. But Ermentrudie never once turned \ her head. She had done with looking back.