Chapter XIX. A Bull Hunt—Wedding Day—Where's the Bridegroom?

Having shortly described our occupations in the last chapter, a few words devoted to our sports may not be out of place. I have already portrayed a pig hunt. Occasionally we took excursions to shoot down some of the wild bulls, which were a great nuisance amongst our comparatively tame cattle, for although our run cattle were all as wild as hares, yet what were technically termed wild cattle, were those without any owners or brands. They had escaped at different times from various runs, and bred in the bush until there became quite a number of them. The heifers, when we got a chance, we ran in with our own cattle and slaughtered for home consumption, but the bulls were shot down wherever they could be got at. The excitement of approaching these animals in the high fern and titree or bush, which almost conceals them, is intense. On the open you can rarely get within shot. You perhaps see one from the distance enter the dense scrub, and although you guess his whereabouts, you can never be certain. On one occasion Charlie and I were out with the hopes of meeting an old patriarch who had been reported to bear a charmed life, and also to be excessively dangerous. He had been

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shot at an incredible number of times, and his assailers could often swear they saw the mark of the bullet, but as a rule the only result was that he charged them, and they had to turn tail. Then he would seek shelter in the bush. We had the good luck to see him cross a small clearing, and march into a patch of scrub some distance from the main bush. It was not so dense but that we could push our horses in, although it was over their heads. It consisted principally of manuka and fern. We advanced most cautiously, as at any moment we might stumble on him. I was in front, Charlie following in my track. I suddenly pulled up, for right before me I could see, gleaming through the dark green hue of the scrub, something white in dangerous proximity to us. It was a portion of one of the old gentleman's horns, and I immediately discerned the other. He must be exactly facing me. What a chance for a shot fair between his eyes, if I could only be certain where they were, and also that a bullet would penetrate the scrub which prevented me from getting a better view of him. At any time a shot between the eyes is uncertain, except at a short distance, and when exactly in the right place, on account of the excessive thickness of the hide or skull, and under the circumstance how much more so now. If I missed he must be on me before I could turn my horse in the narrow track. A shot in front of the shoulder would be the safest, but it was out of the question. I could not locate it. He was evidently lazily chewing his cud, half asleep, or he had taken our horses' footsteps for those of his mates. At any moment he might discover me, and make a charge. These considerations did not occupy me many moments. I decided to risk the shot in his forehead. Luck rather than skill befriended me, and he rolled over without a groan on to his side. Charlie, with a loud hurrah, poshed his horse by mine, and was throwing himself off to examine him, when with a last effort he raised his mighty head and gave a roar, which showed defiance of death itself. It then fell back and he expired. Charlie was on his horse again in a twinkling, prepared for flight if necessary. As our noble victim lay prostrate on his death-bed of crushed fern, I could not but regret the necessity that existed for his destruction. I had none of the love of slaughter for slaughter's sake inherent in many so-called sportsmen. His form would not have pleased the eye of a shorthorn breeder, but he was a grand specimen of his race. The mass of black rings which extended far up his massive horns, leaving the white spaces I had seen, polished with many a fight, and surmounted with black tips, proclaimed him to be a Methusaleh, indeed. He was of a dark, dull red colour along the ribs, which had deepened into black about his neck, head and other extremities. His coat was long, coarse, and curly, especially about the shouldere and forehead. His hide was of an incredible thickness, and we had no little trouble in stripping it off. The flesh was coarsegrained and black with age.

At other times in the right season wo enjoyed a day's pigeonshooting. These hirds were very plentiful, and being so devoid of fear that one will often remain on a tree after his mate is shot, fall very easy victims to the amateur sportsman. The parrot is not considered quite such a delicacy as the pigeon, but is by no means to be despised in a pie. He also has a habit which makes him a desirable bird when pot-filling is the object of your sport. On wounding one of a flock his grating shrieks attract his friends, who, either from curiosity or sympathy, flutter around him, and are easily shot in numbers. The

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more proficient sportsman would prefer a day at the ducks or teal, which afford excellent sport; then there was the pukaki or swamp hen, delicious for soup, while pheasants, Californian quail, and other imported game, abounded in many places.

We had no lack of sport when our various occupations would allow us to take a day's spell. This gave a zest to life, and pleasant variations to our daily fare. Thus, as I have before remarked, the months passed quickly by, and the time approached when the two weddings were to take place; for Mrs Fortescue had determined that she and Fanny should be married on the same day. The house was in great commotion. Improvements were going on—painting, papering, and varnishing. Added to this our old acquaintance, the mermaid milliner from Taranaki (as uncle persisted in calling her after hearing of her submersion) had been called in, and was, with an assistant, busily at work at the two trousseau. The widow and Fanny were constantly wanting to exchange opinions, so they agreed that the work should be done at our house. The general conversation of the ladies during this time was profoundly unintelligible to the average male mind.

Grosvenor had not written for some time. In his last letter he had stated that his betrothed must excuse the long intervals between his visits, as he had much important business to transact in the South Island, but that he would arrive in Wanganui in ample time for the event which was to make him the happiest of men, viz., by the steamer which would reach there rather more than a week before the day fixed.

Uncle and the two girls drove down to meet him on that occasion, but, to their astonishment, he was not on board. They wrote at once to his last address, ‘P.O., Wellington,’ but received no reply. Still they excused him, thinking he had missed the boat, and would come by the next, which would yet be in time. Fanny was certain he would not fail to keep his promise, and, indeed, I was of the same opinion; for he surely was not the man to miss a chance of securing a lady, who he was aware would be wealthy, even if he did not entertain much affection for her.

Uncle began to be very cross and impatient whenever his name was mentioned, but his own approaching happiness gave him little time to think of his future son-in-law. The steamer, by which he must now travel, should arrive on the day before the wedding, and again they went down to meet it, but another disappointment awaited them. The boat had not arrived, and nothing had been heard of her. Charlie got another young fellow to join him, and pulled down the river in the vain hope that the signals might be wrong, but they came back with no good news. The bar, they said, was rough, and no vessel could enter by that night's tide, so that there would be little chance of his arrival till nearly noon the next day. However, this was better than if the steamer had arrived without him, and Fanny, although it was easy to see she felt the delay very much, still asserted that he would be in time whatever happened.

Charlie was sent off in the morning with a led horse, as it was considered that they would get up quicker on horseback than with the waggon. The weddings were put off till a later hour. It had been arranged that they should take place in the house, and the clergyman was in waiting. Everyone wore a look of anxiety and annoyance instead of the jovial appearance which would have better befitted the occasion.

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The hours glided by. I was posted on a small hill overlooking the road from Wanganui, and after straining my eyes, and wishing the gentleman who was causing all this trouble at the bottom of the sea, I suddenly caught sight of a dark speck on the road. Was it a horseman? Yes, it draws nearer, and from the speed must be. Were there two of them? I could not tell at this distance. If so, they must be riding side by side. I was not to signal until I was certain whether Charlie was alone or not. If so I was to hold up one arm, if not two. Nearer and nearer it came. Evidently horseflesh was not spared. Were there two? My selfishness completely mastered me here, and I cried, ‘Oh, my God, I hope not!’ What had I done that I should be compelled to watch for my rival's coming and announce it? What had I done? I had simply done the same as I should, had the request come from the same person, and the favour asked been fiftytimes as hard. Yes, when Fanny came to me with those glorious eyes pleading and tear-stained to ask me to watch for their coming, and give her a signal as early as possible, I simply agreed, without a word to let her know what a painful task it would be, for I little knew myself. I soon got a closer view, and oh, joy! felt convinced there was only one, and was on the point of giving the preconcerted signal, when the road, taking a turn, showed there were two. ‘Now,’ I thought, ‘it is all up. They will be married in a few hours.’ The events which I had hoped might occur to prevent the fulfilment of the engagement had not happened, and I should lose my darling for ever. I gave the signal which would bring joy to my cousin's heart, but what bitterness and misery to mine! and then, I am not ashamed to say, I cast myself down on the soft springy turf and groaned aloud. I felt I could have borne with equanimity to have seen her married to a man whom she loved, had there been the least chance of her being happy with him, but to think that in another hour she would be tied to a brute, not even deserving the name of man, one whom, allowing she did love now, a girl of her high spirit and moral rectitude must, sooner or later, mortally detest; one who I felt certain would treat her brutally directly he tired of her. This was agony, and agony of no mean description. My pain on hearing of their engagement was sharp, but there had always been present with me the hope that something would occur to prevent such an ill-assorted union, and when the fellow did not arrive by the first steamer as he had promised, I was convinced that this something had occurred. I did not myself know how this hope had grown to be a certainty in my mind, till it was thus rudely dashed to the ground by the vision of two horsemen coming at speed up the road. The iron truly entered into my soul. To lose the object of one's affections by death is bad enough, but then there is always the fond hope that she will be happier there. But to give her up to the living death of what must most assuredly be an unhappy marriage—what language is capable of describing the intensity of the torture? What wonder that the weakest of us have died with our own hands rather than face it, and others have carried the scars to their graves through perchance long and weary lives? Not many of us can take comfort from the old saws usually advanced as applicable to these cases, such as, ‘There are as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it.’ ‘If you can't get the girl you want, take the one that wants you.’ Then there is not always a one who wants you to take, even if you feel so disposed.

I rose from the ground, determined at least to try and command my

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feelings, and not expose myself to my fortunate rival's sneers and inuendoes. As I returned to the house the riders were sheltered from view by some plantations. Fanny was in a state of pleasurable excitement, and as I came in she remarked:—‘I was certain he would not disappoint me, Frank. I said he would be here. They must be up by this time. Let us go to the door to meet them.’ She moved off with her father and Alice, and I followed, scarcely knowing what I was doing. We could hear the thud of the horses as they tore up to the verandah. Evidently the bridegroom meant to get married on that day, and there was not a moment to spare for it was now past three o'clock, and it is enacted by the laws in force in the colonies that no marriage shall take place after four.

The door was thrown open, and uncle held his watch in his hand. ‘Just in time Grosvenor, my boy.’

His voice fell, for in place of the long-expected bridegroom stood a complete stranger.

‘This is a friend of Mr Grosvenor's,’ put in Charlie.

‘My father, sir.’

Fanny turned as white as death. Any ordinary young lady would have fainted with the shock of the moment, but she came from a race on her mother's side who can bear pain with stoical endurance.

‘He would have come had he been alive,’ she murmured in a low tone.

‘God forbid that anything should have happened to him!’ I exclaimed in direct contradiction to my expressed wishes of a short time before, for I could not stand her stony look of agony.