Doing and Daring

Eleanor Stredder

Description

British author Eleanor Stredder grew up in a large family and had an inborn understanding of the kind of stories that could ensnare the attention of quickly bored children. This knack came in handy when Stredder began writing juvenile fiction in the late 1800s. Doing and Daring is a gripping tale of adventure set in the New Zealand bush.

Sujets

• Adventure (Guyana)
• Adventure

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 juillet 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776584376
• Langue: English

Extrait

DOING AND DARING
A NEW ZEALAND STORY
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ELEANOR STREDDER
 
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Doing and Daring A New Zealand Story First published in 1899 Epub ISBN 978-1-77658-437-6 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77658-438-3 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - In the Mountain Gorge Chapter II - The Whare by the Lake Chapter III - A Ride through the Bush Chapter IV - The New Home Chapter V - Posting a Letter Chapter VI - Midnight Alarms Chapter VII - The Rain of Mud Chapter VIII - A Raging Sea Chapter IX - Nothing to Eat Chapter X - The Maori Boy Chapter XI - Widespread Desolation Chapter XII - Edwin's Discovery Chapter XIII - Feeding the Hungry Chapter XIV - Rain and Flood Chapter XV - Who Has Been Here? Chapter XVI - Loss and Suspicion Chapter XVII - Edwin in Danger Chapter XVIII - Whero to the Rescue Chapter XIX - Met at Last Chapter XX - Just in Time Chapter XXI - The Valley Farm
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"Who counts his brother's welfare As sacred as his own, And loves, forgives, and pities, He serveth Me alone. I note each gracious purpose, Each kindly word and deed; Are ye not all my children! Shall not the Father heed?" WHITTIER.
Chapter I - In the Mountain Gorge
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It was a glorious autumn day, when the New Zealand bush was at itsloveliest—as enchanting as if it truly were the fairy ground of theSouthern Ocean; yet so unlike every European forest that wearinessseemed banished by its ceaseless variety. Here the intertwining branchesof majestic trees, with leaves of varied hue, shut out the sky, andseemed to roof the summer road which wound its devious track towards thehills; there a rich fern-clad valley, from which the murmuring sound offalling water broke like music on the ear. Onwards still a littlefarther, and an overgrown creek, gently wandering between steep banks ofrich dark fern and graceful palm, came suddenly out of the greenwoodinto an open space, bounded by a wall of rock, rent by a darkling chasm,where the waters of the creek, tumbling over boulder stone and fallentree, broadened to a rushing river. Along its verge the road continued,a mere wheel-track cut in the rock, making it a perilous crossing, asthe driver of the weekly mail knew full well.
His heavy, lumbering coach was making its way towards it at that moment,floundering through the two feet deep of mud which New Zealanders call abush road. The five poor horses could only walk, and found that hardwork, while the passengers had enough to do to keep their seats.
Fortunately the coach was already lightened of a part of its load, somefares with which it started having reached their destination at the laststopping-place. The seven remaining consisted of a rough,jolly-looking, good-humoured fellow, bound for the surveyors' camp amongthe hills; an old identity, as New Zealanders call a colonist who hasbeen so long resident in the land of his adoption that he has completelyidentified himself with it; and a newly-arrived settler with his fourchildren, journeying to take possession of a government allotment in theWaikato district.
With the first two passengers long familiarity with the discomforts ofbush travelling had grown to indifference; but to Mr. Lee and his familythe experience was a trying one, as the coach swayed heavily to thisside and that, backwards and forwards, up and down, like a boat on arough sea. More than once Mr. Lee's little girls were precipitated intothe arms of their vis-à-vis , or bumped backwards with such violence abreakage seemed inevitable; but which would suffer the most, the coachor its passengers, was an open question.
Any English-made vehicle with springs must have been smashed to pieces;but the New Zealand mail had been constructed to suit the exigencies ofthe country. With its frame of iron and sides of leather, it couldresist an amount of wear and tear perfectly incredible to Mr. Lee. Hesat with an arm round each of his daughters, vainly trying to keep themerect in their places. Their two brothers bobbed recklessly from cornerto corner, thinking nothing of the bruises in their ever-increasingmerriment when the edge of Erne's broad-brimmed straw hat went dash intothe navvy's eyes, or Audrey's gray dust-cloak got entangled in thebuckles of the old identity's travelling-bag.
Audrey, with a due regard for the proprieties, began a blushing apology.
"My dear child," exclaimed the portly old gentleman, "you speak as if Idid not know you could not help it."
The words were scarcely uttered, when the whole weight of his sixteenstone went crushing on to little Cuthbert, who emerged from the jollysqueeze with a battered hat and an altogether flattened appearance. Thencame an unexpected breathing-space. The coachman stopped to leave aparcel at the roadman's hut, nestling beneath the shelter of the rocksby the entrance of the gorge.
New Zealand roads are under the care of the government, who station menat intervals all along their route to keep them in order. The specialduty of this individual was to see that no other traffic entered thegorge when the coach was passing through it. Whilst he exchangedgreetings with the coachman, the poor passengers with one accord gave astretch and a yawn as they drew themselves into a more comfortableposition.
On again with renewed jolts between the towering walls of rock, with arush of water by their side drowning the rumble of the wheels. The viewwas grand beyond description, but no rail or fence protected the edge ofthe stream.
Mr. Lee was leaning out of the window, watching anxiously the narrowfoot of road between them and destruction, when, with a sudden lurch,over went the coach to the other side.
"A wheel off," groaned the old identity, as he knocked heads with thenavvy, and became painfully conscious of a struggling heap of arms andlegs encumbering his feet.
Audrey clung to the door-handle, and felt herself slowly elevating. Mr.Lee, with one arm resting on the window-frame, contrived to hang on. Asthe coach lodged against the wall of rock, he scrambled out. Happilythe window owned no glass, and the leathern blind was up. The driverwas flung from his seat, and the horses were kicking. His first thoughtwas to seize the reins, for fear the frightened five should drag themover the brink. The shaft-horse was down, but as the driver tumbled tohis feet, he cut the harness to set the others free; earnestly exhortingthe passengers to keep where they were until he could extricate hishorses.
But Edwin, the eldest boy, had already followed the example of hisfather. He had wriggled himself out of the window, and was dropping tothe ground down the back of the coach, which completely blocked thenarrow road.
His father and the coachman both shouted to him to fetch the roadman totheir help. It was not far to the hut at the entrance of the gorge, andthe boy, who had been reckoned a first-rate scout on the cricket-field,ran off with the speed of a hare. The navvy's stentorian "coo"—therecognized call for assistance—was echoing along the rocky wall as hewent. The roadman had heard it, and had left his dinner to listen. Hesaw the panting boy, and came to meet him.
"Coach upset," gasped Edwin.
"Here, lad, take my post till I come back; let nobody come this way.I'll be up with poor coachee in no time. Anybody hurt?"
But without waiting for a reply the man set off. Edwin sank into the bedof fern that clustered round the opening of the chasm, feeling as if allthe breath had been shaken out of him. There he sat looking queer foran hour or more, hearing nothing, seeing nothing but the dancing leaves,the swaying boughs, the ripple of the waters. Only once a big brown ratcame out of the underwood and looked at him. The absence of all animallife in the forest struck him: even the birds sing only in the mostretired recesses. An ever-increasing army of sand-flies were doing theirutmost to drive him from his position. Unable at last to endure theirstings, he sprang up, trying to rid himself of his tormentors by a shakeand a dance, when he perceived a solitary horseman coming towards him,not by the coach-road, but straight across the open glade.
The man was standing in his stirrups, and seemed to guide his horse by agentle shake of the rein. On he rode straight as an arrow, makingnothing of the many impediments in his path. Edwin saw him dash acrossthe creek, plunge through the all but impenetrable tangle of a wildflax-bush, whose tough and fibrous leaves were nine feet long at least,leap over a giant boulder some storm had hurled from the rocks above,and rein in his steed with easy grace at the door of the roadman'sshanty. Then Edwin noticed that the man, whose perfect command of hishorse had already won his boyish admiration, had a big mouth and a duskyskin, that his cheeks were furrowed with wavy lines encircling eachother.
"A living tattoo," thought Edwin. The sight of those curiously drawnlines was enough to proclaim a native.
Some Maori chief, the boy was inclined to believe by his goodEnglish-made saddle. The tall black hat he wore might have beenimported from Bond Street at the beginning of the season, barring thesea-bird's feathers stuck upright in the band. His legs were bare. Astriped Austrian blanket was thrown over one shoulder and carefullydraped about him. A snowy shirt sleeve was rolled back from the duskyarm he had raised to attract Edwin's attention. A striped silk scarf,which might have belonged to some English lady, was loosely knottedroun