Part 48 (2/2)

”Two?” Pyecroft said. ”I don't envy that other man if----”

”We get heaps of tramps up there since the war. The inspector told me I'd find 'em at M'Bindwe siding waiting to go North. He'd given 'em some grub and quinine, you see. I went up on a construction train. I looked out for 'em. I saw them miles ahead along the straight, waiting in the teak. One of 'em was standin' up by the dead-end of tke siding an' the other was squattin' down lookin' up at 'im, you see.”

”What did you do for 'em?” said Pritchard.

”There wasn't much I could do, except bury 'em. There'd been a bit of a thunderstorm in the teak, you see, and they were both stone dead and as black as charcoal. That's what they really were, you see--charcoal. They fell to bits when we tried to s.h.i.+ft 'em. The man who was standin' up had the false teeth. I saw 'em s.h.i.+nin' against the black. Fell to bits he did too, like his mate squatting down an' watchin' him, both of 'em all wet in the rain. Both burned to charcoal, you see. And--that's what made me ask about marks just now--the false-toother was tattooed on the arms and chest--a crown and foul anchor with M.V. above.”

”I've seen that,” said Pyecroft quickly. ”It was so.”

”But if he was all charcoal-like?” said Pritchard, shuddering.

”You know how writing shows up white on a burned letter? Well, it was like that, you see. We buried 'em in the teak and I kept... But he was a friend of you two gentlemen, you see.”

Mr. Hooper brought his hand away from his waistcoat-pocket--empty.

Pritchard covered his face with his hands for a moment, like a child shutting out an ugliness.

”And to think of her at Hauraki!” he murmured--”with 'er 'air-ribbon on my beer. 'Ada,' she said to her niece... Oh, my Gawd!”...

”On a summer afternoon, when the honeysuckle blooms, And all Nature seems at rest, Underneath the bower, 'mid the perfume of the flower, Sat a maiden with the one she loves the best----”

sang the picnic-party waiting for their train at Glengariff.

”Well, I don't know how you feel about it,” said Pyecroft, ”but 'avin'

seen 'is face for five consecutive nights on end, I'm inclined to finish what's left of the beer an' thank Gawd he's dead!”

BELOW THE MILL DAM

”OUR FATHERS ALSO”

By--they are by with mirth and tears, Wit or the works of Desire-- Cus.h.i.+oned about on the kindly years Between the wall and the fire.

The grapes are pressed, the corn is shocked-- Standeth no more to glean; For the Gates of Love and Learning locked When they went out between.

All lore our Lady Venus bares Signalled it was or told By the dear lips long given to theirs And longer to the mould.

All Profit, all Device, all Truth Written it was or said By the mighty men of their mighty youth.

Which is mighty being dead.

The film that floats before their eyes The Temple's Veil they call; And the dust that on the Shewbread lies Is holy over all.

Warn them of seas that slip our yoke Of slow conspiring stars-- The ancient Front of Things unbroke But heavy with new wars?

By--they are by with mirth and tears.

Wit or the waste of Desire-- Cus.h.i.+oned about on the kindly years Between the wall and the fire.

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