Possum and kangaroo shooting make good sport. Rabbits swarm in literal millions. We grow very handy with the gun, very handy at building a shelter of any sort, or at cooking a dinner.
Then back to New Zealand, and here the beginning of a new life.
New Year’s Eve, as it happens, and the exile’s mind not unnaturally filled with thoughts of home. And tucked away in the further corner of the dining-room of the Grand Hotel the familiar figure of an English comedian! who, when Paul last saw him, was playing in a piece written far himself and Darco.
‘Hillo, Paul! Can’t I get into any blooming corner of the world but some old pal is bound to root me out?’ ‘How’s trade?’ said Paul. ‘Going strong?’ ‘Bad, dear boy,’ the comedian answered. ‘Bad as bad can be. Do me a turn, old fellow. Write me a play. I’ve brought out three, and they’re all rotten failures. Ask the press, and they’ll tell you I’m coining money. Ask me, and I’ll tell you I’m dropping it by the barrelful. Been here long—eh?’
Paul was at the theatre again that night, for the first time since he had left England, two years ago. Two years ago! Such a distance had been placed between him and Gertrude—between him and Annette!
A dreary farce in three acts greeted him, and ambitions awoke anew. The cheery comedian asked:
‘Why not try it on the dog? Give us a bit of human nature, dear child. Run it round these far outlying provinces. No harm to you if you make a failure; loads of minted money if you make a hit. What I always say, dear boy: minimize the risk of failure—eh?’
Paul took fire. He knew his man, and could fit him like a glove.
‘Where are you in ten weeks’ time?’ he asked ‘Ten weeks? said the comedian. ‘Auckland.’ ‘Good!’ said Paul. ‘We meet in Auckland.’ ‘Right you are,’ said the comedian; and then they parted, and never met again for years.
But the talk set Paul at work again, and he laboured like a Trojan on the shores of Lake Te Anau, with heath and sky and mountains for his comrades and inspirers, and when his play was finished he went back to civilization to discover that his comedian was well on his way to England. That mattered little enough. He sent a copy of the piece to Darco, and wandered hither and thither about the southern island until by hazard he tumbled against a new fate in the person of a new comedian.