ON THE SWAG.

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 46, 24 February 1931, Page 6

ON THE SWAG.

I was out of work, and, although not altogether financially destitute, I decided to go on the swag. It was my intention to buy my food while money lasted. The first day was easy. ,1 left in the cool of the evening and tramped along gaily whistling "The Road to Anywheie, "The Ragged Vagabond," "Jogging Along the Highway," and such inspiring songs. When I became fatigued I prepared to camp in a little patch of -bush, ate my "frugal repast," smoked a first-class cigarette, and tried to go to sleep. I was once of the opinion that I could sleep anywhere; that night proved my opinion false. The ground was hard and uneven and cold breezes continually found a way between my blankets. I was glad when at long last daylight came, and, swinging my swag over my shoulder, I comforted myself with the thought that I would probably soon become accustomed to sleeping in the open.

After I had tramped a mile or so a pack of doge dashed round a corner closely followed by a drover on horseback. We exchanged greetings as he pulled his horse to a halt. He surveyed me for a few seconds out of his little brown eyes, and then began to swear, quite picturesquely. He paused a moment to hazard a guess at my age, which guess was correct, then began swearing again, even more picturesquely. He thought it was a blank, blank shame that a blank young chap like me should blank well be walking the blank, blank, blank roads. Having delivered himself of this interesting oration, he whistled to his dogs and rode on, leaving me ruminating on the shame of my social position, the lowest.

However, I shrugged my shoulders, accepting my position with resignation, and continued on my way. The sun came out hot in a cloudless sky. The white road, entirely innocent of shade, stretched away before me, shimmering in the heat. Big, shiny motor cars dashed past, enveloping me in choking clouds of dust. Hien and there I turned Socialist.

A mile or two south of Tailiape I met another swagger, and we eat down to exchange confidences. Being an old hand at the game, he gave me quite a few hints. He told me how to get free food, and beer, in the country towns; how to steal rides on goods trains, ■■ "riding the rattler," he called it; and he recounted numerous incidents and experiences in his tramping career. He said he had. come down through the King Countvand that if it was really true that I was actually looking for work I could take his word for it there was none up the Main Trunk. I therefore decided to go across to Napier, this being before the earthquake. A little later I met two more swaggers, a big optimist and a little' pessimist. In answer to their questions, I told them I was going to Napier. "Don't go that way," exclaimed thepessimist, "or you'll .die.—We came through that way and nearly starved. There ain't hardly any houses." "We got through all right," rejoined the optimist, "so I expect you can." "You won't get no work," said the other. "That's true," agreed the big man, "but it's like that everywhere." So it seemed there was no work to be had in whichever direction I went. Moreover, by now "The Eoad to Anywhere" and its kindred no longer thrilled me, the romancc of simple life had ceased to call. My swag was heavy, my feet were heavy, my heart was heavy. I strode up to the railway station and caught the first train back home. —G.L.B.