“Would he pass there—tryin’ to get to that Lake what’s ’is name?” said Pritchard. Hooper shook his head and went on: “There’s a curious bit o’ line there, you see. It runs through solid teak forest—a sort o’ mahogany really—seventy-two miles without a curve. I’ve had a train derailed there twenty-three times in forty miles. I was up there a month ago relievin’ a sick inspector, you see. He told me to look out for a couple of tramps in the teak.” “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 the 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 shift ’em. The man who was standin’ up had the false teeth. I saw ’em shinin’ 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— Cushioned 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.