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Chapter VIII
Deadman's Plantation

After the boys had ridden away I wandered up the water race, shoes and stockings in hand, dabbling my feet in the deliriously cold water.

Jock and Pipi were at Deadman's Plantation. No man had ever died there, but the trees had. They stood out, gaunt and ghostly, stretching leafless arms to the sky. A few low-growing manuka bushes fringed the farther side of the plantation, and here Jock and Pipi had taken shelter.

Why had they taken shelter?

Because they were smoking.

Yes, really and truly, Jock had a cigarette in his mouth,. and Pipi was striking a match on the heel of her shoe. The cigarettes belonged to Uncle Dan, and Pipi had helped herself to half a dozen from his case.

At first I could only stand and gaze at them, my eyes nearly popping out of my head. Pipi laughed wickedly, and Jock offered me a cigarette.

"Go on!" he urged. "Surely you're not afraid."

"Course I'm not."

"Then why don't you take it?"

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"Oh, I—"

I badly wanted to smoke too. I was certain I could blow really fine smoke rings; I bad so often watched Uncle John. But something—I think it was conscience—was tugging at my heart.

"Think you'll be sick?" asked Pipi, holding her cigarette daintily between two fingers and watching the spark at the end. "Of course, dear, you mustn't make yourself ill."

"Bet she's afraid," jeered Jock, puffing hard and pretending to like it. "She's afraid of everything. Afraid of the bull, and Pipi—and she's three years younger—doesn't mind pulling his tail. Afraid the day we went into the strawberry field—"

"No, I'm not. I went after all. And, anyhow, you ran quick enough when we saw Uncle John. He didn't catch you or Pipi either, only me. So there!"

I thought of that strawberry field and of the disastrous ending to our day of stolen pleasure, of my wearisome daylight sojourn in bed, and of the hour-long lecture Uncle Stephen had given me next day. But I wasn't going to hang back now and let Jock and Pipi call me coward again; no, thank you!

So I joined them, and smoked just as hard as they did. They teased me, and Pipi laughed at me till I selected the very biggest and fattest cigarette I could find.

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"Got a match, Jock?" I asked as calmly as I could.

Jock sorted one out from the dubious collection in his pockets, and I struck it on the heel of my boot, feeling that, having thrown conscience and fear of consequence overboard, I was really going to enjoy myself very much.

"Knew you'd do it in the end. You always do/' remarked Pipi.

"Ngaire's not a funk," Jock said generously, and coughed a little because the smoke would mix with his voice whenever he tried to speak.

Perhaps I exaggerate when I say that we enjoyed our cigarettes. Pipi may have found pleasure in hers, but before very long I began to feel rather queer. Jock, too, grew suddenly silent and puffed with less vigour than before. Occasionally Pipi threw us a remark, but in our growing misery Jock and I ignored her. We only looked up when we heard a footstep and the crackling of the dry grass at the other side of the plantation, but, unhappily, we didn't see Uncle Dan before he saw us—which was very unfortunate.

He stood and looked at us, and we sat and stared back at him till I felt the cigarette in my mouth page 103sticking out like a clothes prop with a bonfire at the end.

At last he spoke and said: "H'm!"

It sounded so sudden and so ominious that in his agitation Jock nearly bit his cigarette in half and I all but swallowed mine. Pipi, however, smoked on elegantly, and struck another match with a nonchalant air.

Uncle Dan stood silently watching us, puffing himself out and trying to look like Uncle John. Jock, anticipating a command, threw his cigarette on to the ground, relinquishing it gladly, enough, but Uncle Dan stooped and picked it up for him.

"It would be a pity to waste it," he remarked very gravely and very politely. "If you don't mind I'll sit down and join the party. Don't stop, Ngaire! You've to finish that to the very last half-inch, and then if you feel inclined for another I've some more of a stronger brand in my pocket which you might fancy. Jock, get on with yours!"

He seemed so urgent about it that we didn't like to disappoint him, and the hideous rite recommenced. Pipi crossed her legs Turk fashion, and looked at uncle engagingly.

"They're not half bad weeds," she remarked cheer-fully.

And then Jock and I didn't smoke any longer.

I will not dwell on that painful time. There is a better side to uncle's nature, but it wants developing. He was very good to Jock and me when he saw that we were really quite sick, but right at the bottom we could feel that he was laughing at us.

And it was all his fault. If he hadn't ever learned to smoke he wouldn't have bought any cigarettes. And if he hadn't bought any cigarettes we wouldn't have been able to borrow them. And if we hadn't been able to borrow them we wouldn't have been tempted to smoke. And if we hadn't been tempted to smoke we wouldn't have been ill. So it all works back to Uncle Dan.

He spoke very gravely to us, though, about the evil effects of smoking on children and young people. After he had finished Pipi asked him for another cigarette; she said she had enjoyed the first very much indeed. Uncle didn't give it to her, however, and once or twice during lunch I saw his eyes fixed on her in a surprised, almost dazed fashion. Why, he doesn't know Pipi. She can manage three plates of fruit salad, jelly, ice-cream, and napoleons, and then take a sea trip with perfect comfort. Uncle has lots to learn.

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Jock and I had very little appetite for that meal, but Pipi delved into roast mutton, vegetables, apple pudding and cream with an undiminished appetite.

"Are you going to drive to the gorge this afternoon, Uncle John?" she asked cheerfully, while Jock and I sat in a sick silence. "Because if you are I don't mind coming."

But uncle was wise in the ways of the weather, and foresaw a gale in the line of clear sky around the horizon and the close, dull white clouds above.

"I know what I shall do," remarked Kathie lazily. "Sit out on the east veranda. It will be cool and sheltered there even if it does blow a howler."

"Bags I the hammock," cried Jan with much foresight.

"The lounge chair is mine," said Kathie.

Jock and Pipi waited for Uncle John to give the sign, and then made a simultaneous rush for the veranda and the shady nook aloft in the creepers.

"Mind, I bagged the hammock," shouted Jan as they ran.

"And I the deck-chair," added Uncle Stephen, laughing.

"I'm going to devote myself to my fancy-work," said Kathie to Uncle Dan, and though we all jeered at her she produced a strip of knitting which made an appearance on various occasions and which was going to resolve itself into a shawl—some day.

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"Same old thing," laughed Jan, adding, as she rummaged passages, dining-room and bedroom for her book. "It's far too hot for solid reading."

"Think I'll take a lazy afternoon," remarked Uncle Stephen, seating himself with his pipe and the latest review on the deck-chair which he had successfully "bagged."

Here on the deep, creeper-covered veranda we spent the early part of the afternoon—Kathie, looking very cool and pink and pretty in her fresh starched dress; Jan reading steadily, her fingers in her ears, shutting out our conversation as she lay on the lounge in an attitude which was certainly not graceful; Jock and Pipi twittering like a couple of birds overhead among the creepers; and the rest of us scattered around in the various chairs and comfortable, cushion-strewn lounges.

About three o'clock Mary brought out afternoon tea, and we saw with joy that there were cups for all and a big plate of crisp teacake, thin bread and butter, hot scones, ginger snaps and little cakes. As a rule, afternoon tea was a forbidden luxury for Jan, Pipi, Jock and me, as the uncles considered that tea in the morning, tea at noon, and tea again in the afternoon was altogether too much for children of our years.

Soon Uncle John and Uncle Dan strolled up to join us on their way to the big store.

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"Anyone like to come with us?" asked Uncle John, accepting a fourth cup.

Of course, we all offered; even Kathie could not resist the temptations of the big, square, sturdy-looking building where flour was stored in hundredweights, and raisins, currants and sultanas, candied peel and dates were packed in huge, sweet-smelling boxes. The dray had been to the station the day before, and Uncle Dan, with a pencil and a book, was ready to check over the amounts. We all took quite a surprising amount of interest in the arrival of the stores, as the uncles usually contrived something in the way of a treat for us. Now Uncle Dan pretended to look dismayed when we all lined up expectantly, eyeing the big, mysterious bundles and boxes.

"Sad time for the raisins," he said pensively.

Pipi pounched at once on a square tin, hugging it in her joy.

"Lollies!" she gurgled.

"Can I help you, Uncle John?" asked Jan politely, eyeing a particularly promising-looking parcel, and discovering, after struggling with innumerable knots, that it contained a dozen bottles of shoe polish.

"That's chocolate biscuits, I'm sure," I whispered, clutching hold of Uncle Dan's coat and following him devotedly.

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"Thank you so much," remarked Kathie, confiscating a long, narrow packet—spelling dates.

"Upon my word, it doesn't pay to have you young folks fossicking around," declared Uncle John, beaming at us as he went over the list with Uncle Dan, while we crunched lollies, ate biscuits and accidentally—oh, quite accidentally—made the sugar fall out of the candied peel.

Kathie laughed; then, raising her head, sniffed the hot air.

"Do you smell a smell of burning?" she asked.

"Burning?" repeated Uncle John anxiously. "Surely none of the men would have so little sense as to light a fire to-day! Besides, there's nothing to burn."

"I don't see anything," said' Uncle Dan, peering between the group of blue gums on the left, and the yellowing ears of the barley field in front.

"I smell something," ejaculated Pipi, whose nose was as sharp as her actions.

"There is smoke, and it's over to the left near the woolshed," cried Uncle Dan.

He went out of the door at a run, dropping book and pencil, just as the great bell from the men's whare rang its warning note.

Ding, dong! Ding, dong!

"The hose!" stormed Uncle John.

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"Wet the blueys!" cried Uncle Stephen, joining us.

"A ladder!" shouted Rob, riding in furiously with Alan McLennan.

We stampeded in the direction of the blaze, tumbling over each other in our hurry. The flames, fanned by the wind, were rapidly taking control,. licking up the dead tree trunks and speeding over the tussocks in the direction of the woolshed. And in that woolshed were three loads of wool which were to have been carted to the station on the following day.

It was fun! No, I don't mean that, but it was awfully exciting. Uncle Dan cut big green branches, and we tried to beat out the flames, but it was like fighting a monster whale with a hatpin. Think of it! All around the dense, blinding smoke blown by the wind, the little licking, quick-advancing flames, the crash of falling trees in the plantation, the hoarse voices of men, the distant cries of frightened animals.

We all worked furiously, stamping out the blaze in one place, only to find it advancing merrily in another. Once Uncle John tumbled over Pipi, and told her that "the children" were to go up to the house immediately. But the children didn't go. They kept out of uncle's way instead.

The swaggers' whare went; then a haycock or page 110two; fences disappeared in the twinkling of an eye. Nearer, nearer crept the flames till it seemed that the woolshed was really doomed.

But it wasn't. At least, if it was doomed the doom didn't come to pass. Not a bit of it! The wind died away, and when once the wind was gone the flames lost half their energy, and we managed to get them under.

Four o'clock saw the beginning of the blaze, six o'clock the end. We all trooped up to the house again, very tired, very hungry, very, very smutty and exceedingly well smoked. Uncle John sent the men to the whare for an extra-special tea, and we went into the dining-room for ours.

We did look a curious crew. Kathie's pretty hair was all over her shoulder, and she was so tired that Uncle Dan had to help her along. Uncle Stephen had a burnt hand, Uncle John was fiercely hot under the smuts, McPherson was limping, Mrs. McPherson scolding, Rob had lost his coat, and a hot cinder had settled on Jan's afternoon frock and burned a big hole.

But we washed away our sweepiness in plenty of warm water, and forgot our injuries in pots and pots, of tea. The evening drew in peacefully; the shadows crept over us as we sat on the veranda drinking tea and more tea and then another cup still. It was lovely.

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We wondered why and when and how the blaze had started. It was a pity we didn't keep on wondering, but unfortunately we arrived at a right conclusion instead.

"Now, who did it?'" demanded Uncle John for the fortieth time.

"I don't think we any of us know, sir," answered Rob for the fortieth also.

"It was—it must have started over at Deadman's Plantation," remarked Uncle Stephen. I remember—

"Oh!"

That was all I said. Just "Oh!"

But it was more than enough.

"What is the matter now?" asked Uncle John testily, while the others stared, and a sudden, fearful comprehension dawned upon Jock's and Pipi's faces.

"Oh, I'm sorry! It must have been my cigarette. I remember throwing it down as I—"

"What?"

It came with a roar as uncle shot out of his chair. "What?" roared uncle again, shaking me hard as he spoke. "Do—you—mean to say—that you have been smoking—you—you depraved little girl? How—dare you? How—dare—you? Do you hear me? Do you hear me, I say?"

"I think she has been punished sufficiently," remarked Uncle Dan. "I——"

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"What?"

Oh, it makes me laugh when I think of it now. Uncle Dan put his foot into it all right; Uncle John left me to attend to him.

"Do you mean to say, Daniel, that you were there and permitted—no, encouraged them to throw lighted cigarettes about? Nonsense! No, I don't want to hear. You wanted to cure them of smoking? Thank you, I'll attend to their morals myself in the future. What? You didn't notice? Of course not. I'm surprised at you, Daniel. At your age. It is absolutely incredible."

Oh, it was interesting, but Jock and I didn't linger long. Absence makes the heart fonder, and we thought that the uncles would probably like us a good deal better if they didn't see too much of us just then. But Pipi stayed. She said it was just juicy because Uncle John scolded Uncle Dan for nearly an hour. He spent so much breath over him that he hadn't any left for me, and we heard nothing more of the matter till the next evening. Dinner was over, and we were sitting on the veranda again enjoying the cool air. Suddenly Uncle John put his hand into his pocket and brought out three horrid fat cigars. He handed them to me, then to Jock.

"Not one?" he asked. "Do try them. They are a special brand. Perhaps Pipi—"

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"Thank you, I will. No, not that baby one; that big, leafy thing, please. An' have you got a match?"

Pipi leaned forward and held out her hand, looking like a supplicating angel. Uncle John gasped and drew back his cigar-case very quickly; Uncle Stephen smiled; but Uncle Dan threw back his head and laughed and laughed till I thought he was never going to stop.