AT THE SIGN OF THE JOLLY BUSHMAN.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 4907, 24 March 1894, Page 2

AT THE SIGN OF THE JOLLY BUSHMAN.

» <-tusti-a?asinn.) . Very far out indeed was the Jolly Bushman. The house stood facing due west, and if you drew v an imaginary line from the front door to just a shave the top of the Great Australian Bight, still t f ohig ' west with the least bit of southing •_ j in it, you would hit Perth Town Hall fairly. 9 I Not in all that distance, either on' the right B hand or on the left, until you came to York, fc j would you find another house of entertainment f ; for man and beast. * But there were both cattle and sheep stations, | and from and by these Dan Beale and Sooze {Artglice Susan), his wife, than whom there were . not in Australasia a more accomplished pair of j rogues, lived and flourished. 3 All fish were alike that came to their . net — teamsters, drovers, Bhearers, and rousei abouts. " What ? " would ask Dan reproachfully. "Pass a sign like' that? look at it! It'll do your eyes good!" And they looked, and succumbed, and came in, and in a very short time departed bare even as the lamb that is newly born. But fair better than any crowd did Dan , love to welcome the solitary traveller— the man > with a thumping cheque, on his way " down , below for a spell." Then how Dan would applaud his resolution ! , Nay, so interested did he become, that ho needs must give him a letter of introduction to a ' friend in the capital. And, whilst this was ' being written, wouldn't, he sit down and have 1 a bit of dinner — Sooze, he knew, had a roast • fowl with potatoes and onions, all nearly ready.? > Then, one nip just to give them an appetite — ' no, no more ! he didn't believe in a man drinking . when he had business before him. Another 3ose after dinner "just for luck on f the road," and the ill-fated wayfarer suddenly ; ! became for the nonce a ramping maniac, oblivious of time, his whereabouts, and his money, which last Dan, out of pure regard, had at length taken into his own safe keeping. Then, a few days later, a shattered, swagless, penniless wretch, grasping a bottle of poison, j would stagger into the bush, whilst Dan would forward another sum to his banking account at Wilton. " Sooze" was the only white woman about the place; the rest were all blacks and half-castes. The nearest police station was at Wilton, eighty miles distant, and, at uncertain intervals, but generally about the time of Bhearing, a vaguelyworded paragraph in Southern papers would inform the puzzled city-man that — " Terrible scenes of drunken immorality and disorder amongst bushmen are reported from the far West." j The Jolly Bushman was one of the centres at which such orgies took place. Dan and Sooze rarely allowed a victim to escape their clutches. If, by uncommon strength of constitution or the exercise of uncommon caution, he was enabled to, for a while, resist the effect ot the stuff they dosed him with, and insisted upon retaining possession of his money, then the blacks waylaid him, Dan of course, taking the lion's share of the spoil. ] At this day the Jolly Bushman has vanished, i All that remains of it is a couple of rotting posts ' and some scattered hearth-stones, ovor which young lambs skip at play. Its site is now well within the "settled districts," and a dozen other i houses have arisen on the road that seems to lead into the heart of the setting sun. Once only was Dan met in fair fight and vanquished. ' Sooze has gone to a better world. But the widower has come in, pays rents and taxes, wears j gold spectacles and his white hair long, and is i highly thought of as a respectable burgess— a ! retired pioneer who made his money "out j back." His digestion is good, he is hale and ! j hearty, and regularly once a week . confesses * j himß.lf a "miserable sinner," and prays ! ', devoutly to be delivered from all the "crafts j and assaults of the devil, and from everlasting | damnation." But, spite of all, he will at rare moments, when the whisky is mellower than usual, and a few other "pioneers" are gathered about him, tell the story of how he was once " had " by a stranger with a stomach as steel. * * # . # '# Said the first Nomad, "Bill, I'm dead sick for a spree, an' some good 'igh livin' ! Tramp, tramp, j tramp's a terror." | "Same with me, Jim," said Nomad No. 2, and j the pair lay under the shade of an apple tree and ! chewedgrass thoughtfully. | J " Ever been about this part afore, Bill?" \ presently inquired No. 1. " "Two year ago," replied his companion, milicg as at a good joke, " I were on the bust at a shop they calls the ' Jolly Bushman ' — mus' be, as near's I can reelect, fifteen or sixteen mile ahead. I has a good 'orse, saddle an' bridle, and twenty notes in my pocket. Well, the cove done! me bad. The first nip or two staggers me, an' | the next un knocks me clean out of it. When' I comes to myself— how long or how little arter- i wards there's no tellin' — I picks myself ■ up somewhere close to this vei-y water'ole. ■ No 'orse, no swag, no 'at, not a copper, an' a bottle o' Chain lighting in my fist." " Ah," .said the other sympatbisingly, but I with evident enjoyment of the story. " That's j his sort, is it ? Hot coffee, an', served ont quick ! i An', o' course, you never goes back to the j • shanty." "Not me," said Bill' with pride; "I never cries over spilt milk. 'Sides, what use would it j ha' been?" j " Not a bit," assented Jim with that solemn f tone of deep conviction born of past experience. ! "How much money ha* yer got on yer, Billy ? " he asked after a long pause. j " Pour notes, an' a cheque for a tenner that ■ nobody wouldn't take on the other side— cove j that drew it's gone broke— jistmy luck." I "The very hidentical," replied Jim. "If you'll' • lend me the lot—l only got a few shillin's myself , — I'll show yer a wrinkle afore this time to- ! morrer ; ay, an' praps get your prad h^ack for j ycu into the bargain— or another un a_ good.' ' But Bill hesitated, and naturally. He had only j been with his present mate a week or two, and he I felt alittle doubtful. . j ; Seeing his indecision Jim said impressively, ' " Yell get yer money back, Billy, leastways the - good part on it. We'll 'aye a' week o* 'igh livin', an' lashin's o' drink — such as it is. We'll lose our Condaminers* here, which ain't o' no account ; but we'll 'aye a couplo of good prads' for to ride away out o' thia cursed country. I've got the whole thing readied up in my head this long time." "There's none o' them lambers," he continued, "as can do me. I've tried lots, I can put away turps, carbolic, painkiller, kerosene, - vitril, an' biled bacca, an' still keep right end up an' a firm holt on the sugar. I've had some queer mixchers shoved inter me, too. Why, only larst spree I was on there was a feller over at the Barrier ttied to bo too smart, an' he found it out — 'bout tho same time as I done. , "I'd drunk," he went on, " all his blarsted • chemicals, an' things, an' he was near played out. I But there was a case o' Sent Jacob's Hoil in the shanty, an' he bottles it horf with kyeen pepper an' serves it up for dark brandy. ' "I was gettin' a bit seedy-like, an' I had a few notes left out o' forty as I started with. Well, Bill, if you'll b'lieve me, that stuff sobered me up # Blankets work threadbare and thin. - {

• as straight as a rash afore I'd finished one bottle. > Then suddenly it comes into my 'cad to tako hi-.'n . an' bash it agen his own bar. I done tbat till he 1 couldn't speak, an' then I clears. 1 -'Well, scnco then I've got it readied up that, when I gets into another shop o' that kind, ' I'm goin' to 'ave a lark. If you's agreeable, ! mate, you an' me'll 'aye the lark with the feller p as lambed you down so jolly clever au' cleaD, an' , -who lives in the shanty sixteen mile ahead on : us." Much mo_e he said and explained, and at i length prevailed. But it was not without some misgiving that Bill, early next morning, saw tlie broad, squat figure of h_9 mate — a pooket Hercules in buildtramping steadily away with all his wea'th in tho direction of the Jolly Bushman. *■##$• 3 The general aspect of the tavern waa not very much in keeping with its exalted position on the 25th parallel of latitude. It was, in truth, a ramshackle, many-cornered place, built mostly of round poles, the hark of which, falling off as they dried, and hanging in ■ strips, gavo it an unkempt, squalid look. But the sign made up for all other shortcomings. So that none of its splendour might be lost, it was erected on two sttfut post- fronting ' the road, and between which it swung majestically. This work of art depicted a red-shirted swagman, his late burden at his feet, with a full tumbler in one hand, and the other extended towarda Daniel, standing in the background. Doubtless the intention had been to represent j the traveller in the act of jovially greeting the I host whilst praising his tipple. But cither un- | consciously, or of malice prepense, the very ! opposite was conveyed; the outstretched hand was clenched, and a threatening scowl distorted j the features, whilst Dan himself seemed over- !' whelmed with confusion. But no critic noticed these slight blemishes, t east of all Dan himself, who was wonderfully I proud of his sign, and never failed to. draw attention to its beauties. Indeed, it was universally admired, and admitted, on all hands, to be "as tip-top a bit of droring as you'd ccc atween 'ere an' the big smoke itself." .For some time trade had been very slack. In fact, for the past few weeks, Dan had found little ; to do except sit in his verandah and watch the i grasshoppers. . He 'was a stout, dark-complexioned, not tin- !' pleasant looking man, evidently not given to indulging much in his own decoctions. "Ah-h-h! " he yawned, getting up at last and squinting over the arid plain, "here's someone comin' anyhow." As the figure approached he mado it out to be that of aswagman, undone to his practised eye " cheque-proud." He had long learned to distinguish between • the short eager tread and light kit of a profitable customer and the listless slouch of the habitual , sundowner or stone-broke traveller. I "Phew!" esclaimed the man, coming up a«d dumping his swag on the verandah, " it's been ; a scorcher; " ond without further ceremony he . followed Dan into the bar and called for rum. j "Pill your own glass, boss," he remarked, j genially, and Dan, taking another bottle from ; the shelf behind him, containing coloured water, ■ did so. They drank to each other, and the • traveller, opening the front of his blue shirt, carefully extracted an object at sight of which , Dan's eyes glistened. It was a dirty sock, whose contents bulged fatly and gave forth a pleasant J rustling as its owner extracted, seemingly quite* j at random, a cheque, and handed it over, remark- I i ing, as he tied the top of the sock tightly with a j j piece of bootlace, " There y'ar, boss. Tell us | when that uns blewed. It's only a tenner, and J j there's whips more where it came from," patting his breast caressingly. Dan grew deferential. He hadn't seen such a fish for many months; and he decided, as he looked his catch over, that it would take careful handling. ! " Been workin' far out, sir ?" he asked, just glancing at the cheque. j "A good way back," replied the new-comer, "Fencin' an' tank-sinkin'. Now fill 'em up j agen; an' let's 'aye the best you got in the 'ouse j )for supper. I'm a-goin' in foi) a bit o 'igh Hvin' s|" i and he slapped his breast -with a sound that woke j responsive echoes in Dan's soul. " Sooze," said Dan to his better-half that night, " there mus' be a couple o' hundred in notes an' paper in that ole sock !" " It'll come in handy," said Sooze, who was a fat sloppy brunette of forty, and a skilled disj tiller of vile liquids. "There's that last loto' I load-in' to pay for yet. How's he drinkin' ? " ""Well," said Dan in a puzzled tone, "he drinks right enough. Nothen don't seem to I come amiss to him. He's had a drop o' pretty j near all as is in the 'ouse. He says the rum : wasn't as good as they kep' on the Barrier — no j grip in it. Said that whisky as you brewed last ! week was like water. Went off to bed as sober !as a judge. It's my opinion," he concluded j despairingly, "as he's a cove with a couple o' : atummicks, an' that one on 'em's steel ! " i " Did ye trap him with the big square bottles i from under the bar? " asked his spouse angrily, ; " the ' dead-finish,' as I calls it." | "Too soon for that, yet," said Dan, deprecatingly, as he blew out the candle. "Damn it all, Sooze, have a little patience ! You're that hasty ! you'd spile everythin' if you had yer own ! way." I "An' you're too chicken-'earted, you old fool," retorted the woman, irritated at the indifference with which her decoctions had been treated. "What stuff," she asked, "did he seem most shook on ? " "Well, I fancy," replied Dan, reflectively, "as ; he took more o' that as ye made out o' them \ logwood chips, an' pepper, an' likriss-root, an' I , nitric acid, an' labelled ' dark brandy ' than of | any of the others. He reckoned it were tasty." " Ah," grumbled Sooze, resentfully, " I'll | doctor him, you bet, presently, if he ain't got the inside of a hemu or a gohanner." [ Next ipoming the visitor was up, fresh as a j lark, and he ordered two fowls, with ham and eggs to follow, for breakfast. I " Two year on damper an' mutton, remember," ' i said he, slapping his breast gleefully, and grinning ' | in Daniel's face. I During th. day another traveller arrived, and I was greeted with effusion by the first. | "An ole mate as I haven't seed for tages." he explained to Dan, who on his part, recognised the new, arrival glumly, and as one likely to spoil sport. : Once more the sock was produced, and a roll of notes handed with a flourish to the hard-up mate I of past years, who thereupon, to Dan's infinite ! content, became speechlessly drunk, and remained j so except at meal times. I Business was dull, and the pair had the "Jolly j Bushman" all to themselves. , The aggravating part of the affair was that not I only was the friend of the past, as a rule, too drunk to do unything hut eat ; but that Lis companion, tho man with the sock, although drinking enough for two or three, appeared ablo to keep both his feet and hi 3 money. E ren a dram that he presently got from "the i \ big square bottle under- tho bar," only moment- : ; anly surprised him, pnd caused him to remark, i i "Why the blazes didn't ye fetch that out afore? i That, now, 's soinethin' like ! That's nearer ihe , sort o* stuff they gives you oa the Barrier!" ' j At this Dan atartod. agtast, too utterly dumb- ; founded to even venture on a reply. j But, as the guest strolled out, the landlord, j putting the cork to his lips, shuddered and spat, muttering, "Mus' be a hot shop over on that Barrier. Don't want any more jokers from there. You'd think thi3 'ud sicken a'orse ? An' hedown3 it like a cup o' tea !" | " I oon't get him on the go, nohow, Sooze," he ! complained to hia wife. " He's none too free j with the sugar, neither. I hints to-day as that i tenner's 'bout cut out. ' Oh,' sez he, quite cai-e- - like, an' a tappin' of his breast, ' I'd clean I I forgot all about that,' sez he, ' there's no 'urry. I I I ain't agoin' further yet awhiles.' " !" Bust him!" exclaimed Daniel indignantly, "if he's a startin' them loafin' games. A miser- ( able tenner in four or five days ! Why, he ain't i worth powder an' shot, £o far. Ybu an' you're precious square bottle o' 'dead finish!' Why, ;he never so much as winked. It might ha' been I milk. I'll have to send you over tothe Barrier,

)my lady, to leara a wrinkle there 'Dead finish !» 1 Yah!" j But that same night J iro, pale and shaky, was ! saying to Bill, in their joint room— I " Mate, it's time to clear ! I can hold a lot o' . all sorts ; but ci-o:on's a staggerer ! TheTe was ! croton in that last dose. I knowed it hj the '■. smell, an' I've knowed it everaeneei But I never j lets on— not a wink outer me. Bouse up, an' ' , give us a hand." j ! "So Bill arose, bright and steady, andthe pair, moving noiseles.lj into the bar, filled an ; assortment of smalt phials, collected i'or the occasion, with different mixtures, including a j liberal sample of " dead finish." | This done to their satistaction, thoy returned to • bed. ; " look 'ere, boss," said Jim, the next morning, ! "my mate' 9 goin' as far as Peeko. He wants to ' see if he can't get a job. Sez he's tired o' loafin' ' oa me, I've promised to go with him for j kumpny. lend us a couple o' prads — good uns. If I likes my mount, I'll buy him vrhen we domes i i back this evenin'.' '..... "AH right," said Daniel. "I'll lend you the j best I got. Your mate can have the one he I jumped over the. bar here last shearin' ,' twelvemonth. He's .ia the paddock — fat aa j butter." ; That afternoon "Saoze,:"' as was her weekly custom, shaking up the teds, screamed aloud in i the exuberance of her joy at discovering in one of j them the precious socL j I " Dan'], Dan'l ! " she cried, rushing out to her ; j husband, moodily counting grasshopers, "I've ■ found it. He's gone aii" clean forgot it ! That I dose o' ' dead finish, bothered him a bit, arter ; ! all!" j , "let'B ace," eaid Daniel, as, with trembling | i fingers, he snatched it and opened it. j { Blanker and blanker grew his face as he ' unrolled piece after piece of worthless old paper. ; j But blanker than ever grew his expression when, ' ' coming on a fragment addressed to himself, he , ' read — j "Mr Beei, if you want 3 your mokes, you'll 'aye to come to Wilton for 'em. We will leave 'em with the poli3 there, likewise sis bottles ov pison we filt from your barrel larafc nite. Bi the time as you gets heer the polis will 'aye 'em hanneralised. Bill is witness. If you makes us a prisint ov the hosses, _cy, we goes on to new j south whales an' no more sed. We is going on j J ennyhows."