The Rouseabout Girl Read Online Free PDF Page B

to peer inside. ‘Doesn’t look to be anything particularly wrong.'
    ‘Just what I was thinking.’
    At least they appeared to be on good terms again, she reflected. It seemed it was the sight of her that had caused Jard to lash out at everyone in sight. Well, so long as she was warned he would find it no easy matter to push her around. For some reason she couldn't understand, he seemed to have a preconceived opinion of her. If only she knew what had put him in that frame of mind, she would know better how to deal with him—her soft lips tightened, for deal with him she would. It wasn’t for nothing she had been bo rn with flame - coloured hair.
    At last Jard slammed down the bonnet of the vehicle. ‘I’ll take it in to the next garage and let them have a look.’ When they drew in to the garage, however, a mechanic told him that it would be a matter of testing the coil. Everyone in the place was flat-stick today. As he spoke vehicles were crowding in to the small space. It was the busiest day of the year for the garage with the Regatta Day crowds and vehicles needing attention, but he’d do his best. If they could call back in an hour or so?
    Of course, Lanie mused, the Regatta at Ngamawahia, the day when the seafaring tradition of famous Polynesian sea voyages came to life again at the annual Maori Aquatic Carnival held on the grassy banks of the Waikato River. It was an event she had never attended, and she had a sneaky wish that the truck repairs, would hold them up sufficiently for her to take in the river races and Maori culture competitions. Even from this distance she caught a glimpse of long canoes paddled by enthusiastic young Maori men. The blare of loudspeakers mingled with the shouts and cheering of the watching crowd gathered on the river banks and brightly-co l oured sun-umbre l las blossomed like flowers among tents and side-shows. She would like to view the events—and what a welcome respite the visit would be from Jard’s disturbing presence!
    The stern set of his jaw told her he had no wish for the journey to be prolonged. She bet, though, that he would have felt differently in the matter had he not been forced to have her along as his passenger on the trip. Sandy’s pleasant tones seemed to tune in on her thoughts. ‘You can drop Lanie and me down at the river. We may as well have a look at the Regatta, seeing we have to fill in time.’
    ‘Right!’ He spoke with alacrity and Lanie thought, ‘He can’t wait to get rid of me, even temporarily. Well, that goes for me tool’
    They merged into the long line of traffic moving towards the small town with its backdrop of bushclad hills, violet-hazed on slopes away from the sun. Presently Jard drew up on the grassy reserve and Lanie and Sandy got out of the vehicle to join the holiday crowds that lined the banks of the swiftly-flowing river.
    ‘Aren’t we lucky,’ she smiled up at Sandy, ‘to be just in time for the highlight of the day!’ For over a loudspeaker came the announcement of the grand parade of the war canoes, the waka taua .
    He nodded. ‘Now you can see the clock turn back for a hundred years — ’ At that moment his words were drowned by a wild cheering as the three great canoes swept downriver, the young Maori paddlers working in time to the rhythmic commands of their captain, the kai-tuki , standing amidships.
    The giant canoes with their intricately carved figureheads at stern and prow jostled for a lead, then, to the enthusiastic encouragement of the onlookers, the leading canoe swept on to victory. A race of smaller canoes followed, and Lanie laughed with the crowd around them as canoes raced over hurdles and occupants were spilled into the water.
    Afterwards they made their way among the picnic groups and from a small Maori boy Sandy bought luscious slices of pinky-silver watermelon nestling in a woven flax basket.
    Still biting into the crisp cool slice of melon, she strolled on with Sandy and they paused to watch the