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Chapter XXXIII.

Archie, after his arrival in Napier, lost no time in completing his preparations for the journey. He knew exactly what he would require and obtained it. He purchased two riding horses, for himself and Ngaia, and four pack-horses, all six of which were Maori-bred beasts accustomed to thrive on the scantiest pickings. He also bought four pack-saddles, and a man's saddle for Ngaia. His camping equipment consisted of a small six-foot tent and fly to sleep in and a spare fly to be used as a kitchen. "Our front parlour," as he laughingly explained to Ngaia. Some tin dishes for cooking or prospecting, as the circumstances might suggest, some enamel iron mugs, a kettle and three billies comprised the cooking utensils, with two or three knives and forks and spoons by way of table furniture. For "tucker," or provisions, he laid in as large a supply as possible of flour, some tinned extracts, and a large quantity of tea, in all enough to last them a good four months.

Ngaia's outfit proved a greater difficulty. She measured herself according to a diagram on a tailor's card, and then he ordered the clothes. They were his chief extravagance, for rough as the suits were to the eye they were of the best and most serviceable material he could get. He had thick laced boots made for her, and a heavy pair of leather waders that would reach to her knees.

Every day he called round at the school for her, and page 289informed her of the progress of matters and generally ended up by taking her off to assist him in coming to a decision on some further detail. He made her feel equal with himself in every preparation, in every phase of the undertaking. They were in fact ideal lovers. They might for all the world have been husband and wife these many years, so perfect was their companionship. There was no ostentation of caressing and love-making, no public billing and cooing, not even when alone with Miss Spence. She never met him or parted with him but with a kiss, and he never attempted, nor would she have liked him to fondle her, after the manner of those people who seem always intent on advertising their mutual and often artificial affection. It is like gilding gold for true lovers to parade their love.

One morning when Miss Spence was out he arrived with a parcel obviously expected by her and mysteriously and quickly conveyed to her room. She locked the door and cut the string, and presently, amidst blushes even in her solitude, she stood before her glass no longer a pretty girl but assuredly the handsomest, most roguish lad a lass ever loved. The suit fitted her perfectly. It was strange and awkward but not uncomfortable. She walked about the room and grew more accustomed. It felt stiff and rough and she missed the gentle swish of her petticoats. Then she coiled her hair—she had suggested cutting it, but he had forbidden her—and put on the felt wide-awake. That and the heavy boots completed the transformation, and she realised that not a man in a hundred would recognise the slim, dark-eyed boy for Ngaia Carlyle of Te Henga, the acknowledged beauty of the whole province. She plunged her hands into the capacious pockets and swaggered and stood before the mirror and laughed and—wished Archie could see her. Then she was glad that he could not; and she felt a sense page 290of regret that she should be obliged to lay aside her pretty things and appear awkward and like a man. She was a girl; and he loved her because of that, and because she was beautiful and graceful with just the touch of proud self-respect that sits so well upon a tall, handsome girl.

Yet to travel through the bush in a skirt and petticoats and with the restraint of a woman's dress was impossible, although—why not? In the evenings, when they had reached their destination, she might sit with him in camp herself, her proper self, in her own proper clothes. She could take just one dress and a change of underlinen. They could be rolled up very small and it would be a surprise to him.

So it happened that he was given a parcel, a mysterious parcel he was ordered on no account to open, a parcel that was to be carried on one of the pack-horses and be kept for her until she asked for it.

The marriage took place in the office of the Registrar. Miss Spence was one witness, and like an April day kept smiling hopes of happiness through her tears and weeping reassurance in her joy. She bustled and dropped things in her excitement and kissed Archie. Then they all had lunch together, and the old lady learnt that the honeymoon was to be at Hastings.

So it was for a couple of days, wild, delirious, happy days. Then they returned to Napier and told Miss Spence that they were going for a trip of enjoyment, that they would be away at least three or perhaps four months, probably longer, and that their destination was a profound secret.

Archie had schooled Ngaia with maps and plans in the general lay of the country into which they were intending to penetrate, until she was as conversant as he himself with the tracks they would have to pick up and follow.

From Napier due west the land is chiefly flat, relieved page 291by gentle undulations. The soil is rich and fertile, and over it stretch some of the finest sheep stations in the colony. For the most part the country is devoid of heavy bush. In many places the rivers have through ages opened out on the flats and formed huge swamps, some of which, easily drained by the ingenuity and perseverance of man, have become extraordinarily fertile.

As the long, winding coach road trended farther and farther to the west the face of the land gradually changed. The rise and fall were sharper and more marked. Clumps of bush grew more frequent and heavier until, as the high range, that stretched north and south like a gigantic barrier across their road, drew nearer the open country gave way to light bush, broken here and there by large patches where the trees had been felled and grain had been sown.

Ngaia was dressed in her riding habit, and it was a testimony to her skill as a horsewoman that no one would have imagined that she was riding on a man's saddle with the off-side stirrup flung over the pommel and lengthened.

Both she and Archie carried swags in front of them consisting of a warm sleeping rug and an oilskin. In the capacious saddle-bags were sundry odds and ends and smaller requisites, with a pannikin held by the flap-strap. Jingling on Mignon II.'s (so Ngaia had named her new steed) flank was the billy in which they boiled their mid-day tea.

Archie's appearance as he rode steadily along was workmanlike but uncouth in the extreme. He wore a felt wide-awake, comfortable no doubt, but decidedly not new. He had taken off his coat and made it fast on top of the swag in front of him. Over his saddlebags was a sack, an ordinary rough sack sewn up at both ends and half filled with tin dishes and sundry unbreakable articles, light but difficult of storage on a page 292ack-horse. His method of arranging it on his animal was simple. Clasping the bag in the centre, he would adjust the contents so that they lay in fairly equal weight and proportion at either end, after the manner of a huge silk purse; then he would throw it over his horse so that the full ends fell on either side with the empty centre of the sack across his saddle. His sitting on this held the sack in its place, and two better saddle-bags could not have been devised than the filled ends thus became,

The pack-horses, jogging on in front of them, carried full loads, three being laden with practically nothing else but provisions, the fourth carrying the tent and an assorted mixture of clothes, shovels and picks, some rope, a digger's cradle in bits, and lastly, Ngaia's mysterious parcel.

It took them three days to reach the foot of the range where the road commenced its long climb of the steep pass. On the left steep slopes towered precipitately upwards. In many places bare rock stood out from amongst the vegetation grey and weather beaten. Huge trees overhung the roadway, and in the whimper of the breeze rustled their green foliage. Patches of fern and tufts of cocksfoot grass, once blown from the seed-bags being carted up from Napier, covered the bank and even stooped and whispered into the tiny stream trickling in the ditchway. Only at intervals could two vehicles pass abreast, and no rail or fence edged the road on the right where it fell away into the gully. There the tops of lofty trees fluttered on a level with the riders, their trunks lost in a steep, soft carpet of wild fuchsias and fern-trees and scrub. On the very edge an occasional cabbage-tree palm shot swaying into the air, clattering and flapping its stiff top-knot in every breath that stirred. Now and again a pigeon, flying from some tree, would start with a whir, and, sailing with outstretched wings, would dip, like page 293the sag of a long stretch of wire, over the huge depth below and rise on the other side of the gully to disappear into the dense bush. It was springtime and the air was alive with the piping of young birds and the whistle and pop of tuis, the soft call of the pigeons and the harsh, quick shrieks of the kakas.

Neither Ngaia nor her husband gave over-much thought to the grandeur of the scenery about them. They were approaching the true commencement of their rough adventure and their minds were busy.

"I believe, Archie, it would be better to turn off at the foot of the hill and try and pick up the old track leading to the junction of the Porounaki and Kawatau."

"Better than following the old Awahei track?"

"Yes."

"You see," she continued, after a few minutes' silence, "the Awahei track'll be just as overgrown and it's much longer. We might strike the head of some creek that leads into the Kawatau and could then double back to the foot of Aorangi."

"The bother'll be with the horses."

"It's the same either way. We'll practically have to cut a new track."

He looked at her with a smile.

"It's rough work, sweetheart."

"I'll do it," she said with a toss of her head.

"I'm inclined to agree with you about turning off at the foot of the range. Oh, it's a wonderful little manager, a marvellous little organiser it is," he added fondly.

"She isn't little. She's tall for a girl; and it's a very silly old husband she's got, though he is the best and bravest fellow in the world. He can't help being that. You'll get the horses through, Archie," she continued.

"I wonder," he said laughingly, "if there's anything in the world you think I can't do?"

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Oh, you're not to be too proud of yourself; just because—because I'm proud of you. That's my privilege. I know one thing you can't do."

"And what's that?"

"Without me," she whispered, looking at him almost shyly, though he was her husband.

"I'll own to that," he answered with a smile, ranging up along-side of her and placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Be quiet, Archie. You're not to," she cried, laughingly endeavouring to free herself.

"There's only Ross and Slapper to see. I don't think they'll be very angry. Just one kiss, Ngaia, I shan't see a pretty girl after to-day for weeks and weeks, only a mischievous young urchin for a pal; a little common boy."

"Poor old man," she said in mock sympathy, and she let him kiss her—and more than once.

It was high noon when they reached the foot of the range. At a point where a small creek crossed the road they turned off into a tiny clearing which contained some good feed for the horses, and halted. Ngaia unsaddled Mignon and tethered her, and whilst Archie fixed up his own horse and the pack-horses she built a small fire and set the billy.

Then they held a council of war, and after much deliberation, and the earnest study of a big tracing Archie had made, they decided to push down the creek for a while and strike into the bush on its left bank.

"You must get out of that habit, sweetheart, the skirt'll be in your way and torn to bits before you know where you are. I'll get your other things."

He went across to where the pack-horses were munching at the clover and unstrapped a parcel off the top load.

"Here it is," he said, handing it to her. "Go off page 295round that old totara; not that any one is likely to pass this way. And let me tell you," he added, laying his two hands on her shoulders, "you're the pluckiest wife a man ever had."

She blushed and smiled in her pleasure.

'"You don't mind these things, Archie—very much?"

"I'd rather have you with me as a boy than be without you. Just one last look at my pretty sweetheart and then to be reconciled to a little vulgar boy for a mate."

"You don't know anything about it. I'm—well, I don't mind confessing it—I've fallen in love with myself as a boy; whilst as for not seeing me again as a girl, why—oh, well, it's time I changed." And slipping away from him she hurried down the little slope and disappeared from view.

It was not long before she returned. The transformation was complete. The tall, handsome girl was lost in the slim, dark-eyed boy, who faced Archie with an indescribable look of infinite shyness and roguish merriment.

"I must kiss you, Ngaia, or 'pon my word I shall believe I've completely lost you."

"You see," she explained as he held her in his arms, "I must wear braces. If 1 wear a belt it shows my waist."

"They are a bit loose about there, aren't they? What a little waist it is to be sure. But it doesn't really matter. After all, it's not a disguise your dressing like this, it's a convenience. You'd better wear a belt to carry your knife in. It's as well to have a knife with you in the bush."

She strapped on the belt, and in the slim, supple waist the disguise was destroyed, and the fact of her being a girl in man's clothing revealed.

"I like it best so," he said, surveying her.

"It makes me look a girl."

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"Yes," he answered gently. "Though I don't think you'd be taken for one, at first sight anyway."

"I like it better then too. I'll do without the braces," she added, and she unfastened them and rolled them away with the habit, which he tied into a parcel and fastened to the pack-saddle.

"Well, here goes for our first plunge," said Archie, running his finger along the edge of the heavy slasher he had armed himself with. "I'll go on in front and clear the vines and branches a bit, and you must bring up the rear and drive the horses. Mind if anything goes wrong you're to whistle; I mightn't hear you call."

They drove the horses into the creek, and turned them down stream. Archie pushed on to the front, and Ngaia came last. The difficulties were not great for the first two or three miles. The water in the creek was low, and the bed fairly smooth. The horses grew accustomed to wading in and out and good progress was made.

It was cool down in the depth of the bush. Far away overhead was a long, narrow streak of blue, and on the highest tree-tops could be seen the glare of the sun. An immense silence reigned over the dense mass of trees and vegetation, a silence too profound to be broken by the chattering of the creek or the ceaseless hum of insects or the calls and cries of birds. Countless midges and gnats and summer flies flitted about and above the water. In places the travellers would come upon still, clear pools unruffled until the horses splashed into them.

How is it possible to paint in mere words the infinite beauty, the supreme grandeur, the tenderness, the gentleness of the New Zealand bush? It whispers, it sighs, it is deliriously still, it is teeming with delicate, harmless life. Neither beasts of prey nor animals that can wound or hurt are to be found in it. No snakes page 297nor venomous insects lurk amongst the undergrowth or under the fallen logs. There are no high lights, no brilliant colourings of flowers, no birds of gorgeous plumage. The foliage is green in every exquisite tint, the tuis are of a bluish black, the pigeons are grey, the kakas a sober red. There is a sense of majesty and hugeness upon you as you follow the winding root-strewn track, for the great totaras, kahikateas, and ratas tower to a vast height with mighty branchless trunks clothed in rough, shaggy bark. You learn to know each tree by its bark, more readily almost than by its foliage. The totara is sheathed in a brown, fibrous, matted coat, unlike the smooth dark brown of the rata or the shimmering silver of the matai or greeny grey of the kahikatea. Lesser but lovely trees strive with the bigger ones for space to live and breathe in; and as your eyes roam through the forest you seem to realise the silent, infinite struggles of the giants jostling and thrusting and reaching and strangling each other in their efforts to breathe the passing breeze and reach the sunshine.

Wild fuchsias and lovely shrubs, content to flourish under the shadow of the forest monarchs, form a dense undergrowth. Here and there on every side gentle tree-ferns with long, graceful fronds ask all around to behold and worship them. In every chance breath that stirs the white underside of their foliage glints like silver fish in still water.

Vines and supplejacks and numberless creepers hang in festoons from branch to branch and twist and climb about the trunks. Everywhere is a carpet of ferns, some scarcely to be seen, others reaching above the knee. Even they in turn tread a glorious carpet of mosses of countless varieties. Pretty birds flutter from branch to branch, and through the shrubs tuis flit in ceaseless ecstasy of living, whistling and uttering their strange pop so like the drawing of a tight cork. High page 298overhead in the topmost branches pigeons peck the berries and call to each other, and kakas screech discordant harmony.

Once or twice in their progress along the creek Archie and Ngaia found their way completely barred by some huge trunk which had fallen years and years ago across the stream and, covered with creepers and curious ferns, formed a natural bridge. On such occasions Archie had to clear a way up the bank and around and down again into the creek.

It was not easy work, and frequently he called a halt, apparently for some such purpose as that of lighting his pipe or resting himself, in reality to make sure that Ngaia was safe and sound and withstanding the fatigue.

"You're a born bushwoman," he said, leaning against the bank by the side, and holding her hand and patting it and idly twisting the wedding-ring on her finger.

"I wonder if you're wise to wear that, sweetheart? It might fall off."

"It won't; see, it's quite tight. It's never coming off, Archie, never. I wonder," she continued, "if we'll be able to pick up the old track?"

"Rather, although I expect it's pretty well overgrown and won't be much use to us. It's a mile or so below a waterfall we've got to come to, and it runs along the bank of the creek for a little distance and then bears away to the left."

"I suppose there's no gold in this creek."

"No, it's not likely. All this country is clay formation. There's a big spur away here to the left, over which the track ought to lead into a large flat. It's there where we leave the old Maori track, if we ever find it, and push away in towards the foot of the ranges."

"If the worst came to the worst we could strike the Kawatau and push up to its head. It must rise somewhere up by Aorangi," said Ngaia.

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"I believe it does, too. However, en avant, ma che'rie" he exclaimed, and once again the little party continued its way.

Another hour's travelling brought them to a spot where the creek opened out. Along the banks were some pickings for the animals.

"Camp-ho," called Archie.

They caught the horses and Archie unstrapped the tent and pitched it, whilst Ngaia lit a fire and unrolled the rugs. Then whilst she prepared the tea he set to work and collected a stack of firewood for the night

They enjoyed their meal, nor did they waste much time between finishing it and turning in to bed. They merely waited until Archie had smoked his pipe; and assuredly any stranger, suddenly lighting upon them, would have deemed it strange to see the tall, bearded young man leaning back against a tree with a boy, his long hair in a tail over his shoulders, sitting by him and half embracing him. Had such an unseen visitor listened he would possibly have wondered still more as he overheard their conversation. It was the talk of a man and a woman, deeply, desperately in love with one another, and still in the first ecstatic charm of their honeymoon. It was the talk of two adventurers on a wild and difficult journey, seeking to win from the silent, inhospitable country they were invading a portion of its buried treasure.

It was indeed a strange, romantic honeymoon, a honeymoon of mutual enchantment, a honeymoon where disaster, even death peeped out at either of them in every mile of their journeying, a honeymoon of romantic achievement and a curiously tragic end.