The Tale of Timber Town

“But I have to get back to town – I start for the gold-fields to-morrow, before daylight.”

“Why do you go to the stupid gold-fields? Isn’t there everything a man wants here? The pa is full of food – you shall want for nothing.”

“I suppose it is the Pakeha way to want to grow rich. Come along.”

He clambered down to where the broken keelson lay, and regained the rocks. Amiria followed him slowly, as though reluctant to leave the scene of her confession, but presently she stood beside him on the slippery seaweed.

He led the way to where the barrel lay floating in the rising tide. That the ignominy of being ferried by a girl might not be repeated, he had brought from the wreck a piece of board with which to propel himself.

Perceiving his intention so soon as he was sitting cross-legged on the top of his strange craft, Amiria dashed into the water, seized the improvised oar, and threatened to drag it from his grasp.

“I’ll take you across myself,” she almost screamed. “Why should you think I don’t want to take you back?”

“All right,” said Jack, dropping his piece of wood, “have it your own way. I hand myself over to you, but let us get across quickly.”

Again the Englishman felt how mean are the conventions of the white man, how petty his propriety; again the Maori girl felt nothing but pleasure and pride in the part she played.

When they reached the further side, Amiria picked up her mat and threw it over her glistening shoulders, and Scarlett floundered over the slippery rocks towards the beach.

“You’ll come to the pa?”

“You’re too kind. I must get back to town.”

“But you’ve had nothing to eat.”

“I have my lunch in my wallets.”

Amiria’s face fell. “You’re very unkind,” she said.

“I’ll stay all day, next time I come.”

“When will that be?”

“As soon as I can. Ah, here’s my horse, under this birch tree. Well, good-bye, Amiria. Thank you for taking charge of me to-day. My word, how you can swim: like a mermaid.”

His hand touched hers for a brief moment; the next he was in the saddle. His spur lightly touched the horse’s flank, and the springy turf yielded to the iron-shod hooves; there was a waving of a disappearing hand, and the brown girl was left alone.

“You will come back,” she called through the leaves.

“I’ll come back.”

Then, slowly, sadly, she walked towards the pa, talking to herself in Maori, listless and sorrowful.

By the time that Scarlett had reached the outskirts of Timber Town the night had begun to close in. Leaving the main road, he passed along a by-way to a ford, where a foot-bridge spanned the river. As his horse bent its head to drink, Jack heard a woman scream upon the bridge above him. In a moment he had dismounted, and his heavy boots were resounding on the wooden planks. In the middle of the bridge he came upon a girl struggling in the grasp of a thick-set ruffian, who was dragging her towards the bank further from the town. Grappling with the brutal fellow, Jack released the girl, who ran past him in the direction of the horse.

The scoundrel cursed and kicked, but Jack, who had him by the throat, almost squeezed the life out of him, and then heaved him over the bridge into the dark and gurgling water. Returning to the girl, who was standing at the bridge-head, crying and, seemingly, deprived of power to run further, Scarlett led her to where the horse stood beside the water.

“Which way shall I take you?” he asked.

“I live at the other side of the town,” she replied. “I was going home when that brute met me on the bridge.” Again she lost control of her powers, and Jack was obliged to support her.

When she had recovered, he swung her into the saddle and led the horse across the river.

“I was just in time,” he said. “How do you feel now?”

“Better.”

“It’s lucky I didn’t kill the brute. Do you know who he is?”

“I never saw him before. But I think he’s a digger: lots of them have come into the town since this discovery of gold was made. Oh, I’m so frightened! Do you think he will come again?”

“It’s hardly likely. I think he must have had enough trouble for one night.”

“Suppose you have drowned him – ”

“There’s no chance of that – the water is only deep enough to break his fall. He’ll be all right.”

“I think I had better get down, if you please: it would be rather an unusual thing to ride through the town in this manner. I think I can walk.”

She slid limply to the ground, and Jack supported her.

“Whom must I thank for helping me?” she asked.

“I’m a digger, too,” said Jack; and he told her his name.

“Are you the man who discovered the new field?”

“Some people give me the credit of it. I start back to-morrow. It was lucky I was crossing that stream when I did. You haven’t told me whom I have had the pleasure of rescuing.”

They were passing a street lamp, and for the first time Jack could see the girl’s face. She was pretty, with black hair, an oval face, and a dark complexion.

“I’m Miss Varnhagen,” she said. “My Dad will be awfully grateful to you.” She looked at her preserver with eyes which expressed all the gratitude that Scarlett could desire.

“I’ll see you safely home,” he said; “and when you tell your father, perhaps he will repay me by letting me see you again.”

“He’ll be only too pleased. He says the town owes you more than it can ever pay you for discovering this gold, which, he says, will mean thousands of pounds to him and the other merchants.”

They passed through the town and paused before a great wooden mansion, painted a light colour, which made it conspicuous even in the dark. Here Rachel said she lived. Between the gate and the house grew a plantation of palms, camellias, and rare shrubs, which were displayed by the lights which shone above the gate and the door.

“Won’t you come in and see my father?”

“Nothing would please me more, but I’m wet, and my horse is tired and needs a feed. Some other time I’ll call and tell your father how pleased I was to be of service to you. Good-night.”

Rachel gave his hand a tender squeeze. “Thanks awf’lly,” she said, looking up at him with seraphic eyes. “Thank you awf’lly much. I think you’re just the nicest man I ever met. Be sure you come to see us when you return. Good-night.” Another tender squeeze of the hand, another affectionate look, and she disappeared among the palms and camellias.

Jack mounted his horse, and rode it to its stables. Then he went to The Lucky Digger, where he changed his clothes and had dinner, after which he directed his steps towards the house of Pilot Summerhayes.

His knock was answered by Rose herself, who conducted him into the quaint dining-room, where, upon the polished table, lay the materials for a dress which she was making, and beside them the hundred-and-one oddments which are necessary for such a task.