SHORT STORIES

Otago Witness, Issue 3859, 28 February 1928, Page 81

SHORT STORIES

A SWAGMAN’S MATE.

By

Ted M. Gerrity.

(Copyright.—For the Otago Witness.)

Savagely, with head down and body braced to meet the force of the stinging wind* sweeping down from the distant ranges, and bringing with it a fine drizzle of cold lin, Dan M‘Gee trudged along the slush-covered back-country road with his swag slung over his massive back, and the collar of his ragged, dirt-soiled coat pulled up round his thick neck' as a protection from the penetrating drizzle which soaked into his black, unkempt beard, and trickled down his back. More than a chain behind him, struggling and slipping in the slushy clay, and bent down with the burden of his swag, came the small, unkempt figure of Billy- Kerrigan, trying gamely to keep up with his younger and more active mate. “ Crikey,” he panted, wiping the collecting moisture from his straggling grey beard with the back of his rough, horny hand, “ this ’ere weather’s gittin’ on me nerves. It’s nearly a bloomin’ week now since I seen th’ sun, an’ just about as long since I had a square feed an’ a bed to sleep on.”

With a groan he shifted the rope of his swag to an easier position, and increased his speed of walking. In doing so his foot slipped, and he almost fell, face downwards, into the liquid clay. “ If M'Gee thinks he’s competin’ in a cross-country race there’s only goin’ to be one blinkin’ starter,” he panted. Reckon a bloke should give his mate a helpin’ hand when he’s down an’ out.” Then he shrugged his shoulders. “ Anyhow I ain’t goin’ to growl. There’s a few sparks o’ life left in me old frame yet.”

In the last 10 miles of the weary tramp the two swagmen had called at more than six farms in their vain search for work. Kerrigan had done all the asking, and had humbly faced all the refusals and rebuffs, whilst M'Gee had waited on the. road, staring savagely into space, and often bitterly cursing the fate that had brought him to the level of the track.

His slouching figure now drew farther ahead into the soaking drizzle. It was already getting dark, and a long stretch of bleak tussock land lay ahead, bare of farms or habitations of anv kind.

Presently he reached a stream which crossed the road at this point, and wandered away again through neighbouring paddocks. Savagely he flung his swag down and seated himself upon it, then, for the first time in an hour, remembered Kerrigan, the fact that he was not present annoying rather than alarming him. Years of business prosperity had made M'Gee a selfish man. Until now he had never known poverty and failure, and had never been called upon to share a handful of stale scones with a down-and-out mate. Bedraggled and damped in body and spirit Kerrigan at length staggered up to the edge of the creek, and dropping his swag down rubbed his raw shoulder ruefully. “Where the blazes have you been?” growled M'Gee. “ I wanted to. get a match off you.” Without replying the other man produced a frayed match from his pocket and handed it over. “Now get some dry wood; I’m cold.” Kerrigan clenched his teeth and drew himself up to his mean sft. A sudden, dangerous light flashed in his usually mild grey eyes. “Git yer own blinkin’ wood,” he shouted defiantly. “ I ain’t yer—yer varlet.” M’Gee swung round swiftly, and glared savagely-down upon the man. His powerful hands opened and clenched for a few moments, then he relaxed, and, without another word, went in search of the wood himself. Kerrigan sank down upon his wet swag, and burying his head in his hands stared dejectedly down at the cold, sodden.ground. When morning came they had a meagre breakfast of tea and bread, then silently resumed their tramp along the lonely road. It had ceased raining, but the sky was still grey, and the cold wind still swept down from the mountains with penetrating force. At length they came to a farm, standing in a long distance from the road. “ Wait here! ” M’Gee dropped his swag, and opening the gate tramped up the long drive towards the house. Kerrigan was amazed, for never before had M’Gee volunteered to .face the ordeal of testing the generosity, or otherwise, of the farmers. A few minutes later he returned, fcowling and cursing. Savagely he swung open the gate, and snatching up his swag resumed the tramp. In the afternoon it began to rain again, and as usual M’Gee was well ahead of his mate. Kerrigan was limping badly, and his face was unusually strained and haggard. Just before dark M’Gee selected a place to camp for the night, and without waiting for the other man to come tip set to work to kindle a fire. -

After the meal was over, and more wood had been stacked on to the unwilling fire they crouched up to its warmth to dry their sodden clothes.

Producing a battered clay pipe M’Gee searched in his pockets for stray fragments of tobacco, which he emptied into the bowl. Leaning forward he pulled a burning brand from the fire, and was about to light it when he caught Kerrigan’s eye. Kerrigan would have given the world for a smoke at that moment. It was weeks since he had inhaled the fragrance of tobacco. “ Got a pipe,” jerked M’Gee, throwing the brand back into the fire, and stretching out his hand impulsively. Mechanically the other drew a foul clay from his pocket, and reluctantly handed it to bis mate to fill. “ Nothing like a puff to cheer a bloke up,” grunted the latter, emptying half his scanty supply into it, and handing it back. The wind whistled and moaned through the tussocks in the paddocks, and the fire crackled and hissed and threw dancing shafts of light out into the cold outer darkness. Through half-closed eyes M’Gee studied his mate with an intensity that was unusual for him. For the first time since things had gone wrong he observed the haggard, worn expression on the elder man’s wrinkled, sun-tanned face. The discovery came as a shock to him. Next, a splash of dried blood on the leg of his dirty moleskin pants attracted his attention. “You’re bleeding?” He indicated the red stain with a nod of his head. Kerrigan eyed the splash, then bi uslied it away carelessly. “ ’Tain’t much,” he remarked. “ Just me —me blinkin’ foot.” Drawing his left leg from under him. and holding it up so that the foot, visible through his soleless boot, was lit up by the firelight, he added: “ Cut it on th’ blade of an’ old plough share wot was stickin’ up in th’ mud.” M’Gee examined the injured member keenly, and was instantly conscious of a new and strange feeling—sympathy. “ But it’s black—the heel! ” “ Reckon that’s stone bruise.” “Why didn’t you sing out before?” “Wasn’t nothin’ to make a fuss of,” muttered Kerrigan. “ I ain’t alwavs squeakin’ about myself.” A gust of cold wind swept through the tussocks and scattered the embers of the dying camp-fire. M’Gee set to work in silence to dress his mate’s wound. He boiled some water in the billy, and, cleaning the cut well, tore the sleeve from his shirt and wound it round the injury. “ That’s heaps better,” said Kerrigan when the clumsy but willing administrations had been done. “ ’Tain’t half so sore now.”

The hours dragged by, and a deep silence fell between the two men. “ I’ve never done so much thinkin’ in my life before,” muttered M’Gee at length, and the firelight danced upon his face. It was not a pleasant face, but it held an expression of wistfulness now that it had never known before. ; I reckon I’ve been a rotter. I’ve thought too much of myself this last few days. I—l reckoned I was the worst treated bloke on earth. I know now I m not—Billy, # and I—l’m damn sorry!” A broad, good-natured smile spread over Kerrigan’s grizzled face, despite the pain and discomfort he was so bravely enduring. “ It’s a blinkin’ fine education for a bloke to bq down an’ out—sometimes. Reckon things’ll come all right again soon. I I somehow feel, it in me joints —Danny.”' The following morning was little better than the preceding one. The long dreary clay road was covered with vellow slush, slippery and difficult to walk upon. After breakfast they began to tramp again. Contrary to his usual habit, M’Gee did not slouch on ahead of his mate. A great wealth of feeling and sympathy had entered his heart as the result of much hard thinking on the previous night. Taking’Kerrigan’s swag, he slung it, along with his own, over his broad back, and, linking his arm rather awkwardly in that of the other man, proceeded slowly along. Dreary miles passed under their feet, and late in the afternoon the clouds broke and the feeble rays of a setting sun shone out from the western sky. Ten minutes later the swagmen espied a farmhouse a little distance along the road. XV ith new hope in their hearts they increased their speed of walking till they at length reached a large gate that gave entrance to the farmyard, in the centre of which stood a large barn. At the door of the barn lounged a man, evidently a swagman like themselves.

What d’ye want here ? ” he shouted, as M’Gee prepared to open the gate. “ Reckon you’d better clear off. Th’ boss don’t want no hangers-on.” “Who the blazes are you?” snarled’ M’Gee. “ I’ve come here "to get a job.” He was about to bear down upon the man when Kerrigan seized his arm.

“ Come off it, Danny,” he cried. “You’ll kill the bloke!”

Acting upon a sudden impulse of which his mate was not responsible, he stopped, and, swinging round, stalked from the yard and, seizing his swag, proceeded along the road, after muttering some-' thing which Kerrigan took to.be an order to follow.

When they were out of view of the farm M’Gee stopped and seated himself upon the ground. “Got a matqh, Billy?” he asked, after a few moments of deep thought. GKeriigan produced a match. ° “ Wot, yer goin’ to do? ” he. inquired, studying the man’s grim face. “ I’m going to do a desperate thing! ” He sprang suddenly to his feet, and a strange light gleamed in his eyes. “If I'm not mistaken we’ll go no further than this farm to-night! ” Under cover of darkness M’Gee stole forward towards the farm gate. Completely mystified, Kerrigan seated himself upon the ground, and waited anxiously. Five minutes passed and nothing happened. Then suddenly the darkness was pierced by a red glow which gradually grew till it developed into a flame. Kerrigan’s heart beat wildly.

Th fool, th’ fool! ” he whispered hoarsely. “It’ll mean ‘clink’ for him.” The flames grew in size, and crept along one side of the barn, and soon the whole large yard was lit by a glaring light.

Limping badly, Kerrigan ran wildly forward. M’Gee must be mad! As he came nearer he could see his tall figure silhouetted against the red glow. M’Gee was dragging sacks and implements from the burning interior with a speed almost amounting to frenzy. Before Kerrigan reached the scene the farmer and several farm hands had come up. M’Gee was speaking to the farmer. “ Saw the blaze when my mate and myself was coming up the track,” he explained. “ That damn swagger must have done it,” panted the farmer, soaking a sack into a horse trough and attacking the flames with it. “Most likely,” agreed M’Gee. “Just saw him getting away when I was coming up.” An hour later the fire was extinguished and a group of smoke-grimed, panting men stood silently surveying the smoking ruins. “ I'll be wanting another man,’’ remarked the farmer later. “ A handy man.” M'Gee turned to where Kerrigan was standing near the barn with his hands spread over the still warm remains of a big beam. A slow smile spread over his swarthy face as he said: “ There’s the man you /ant. An allround, honest-to-Gawd bloke who can do anything from peeling spuds to building a barn I ” Next morning Billy Kerrigan, leaning against the farm gate, watched the big slouching figure of M’Gee swinging away along the sunlit road towards the distant ranges. “ Gawd ! ” he ■whispered hoarsely. “ Th’ best mate a bloke ever had! ”