BEN

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVI, Issue 4, 25 January 1911, Page 53

BEN

Specially written for <r The Weekty Graphic,"

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WILL LAWSON.

the statisn huUoekj, waa arI'JI ranging gear of ropes, leather f I U coifcira and chain® in one of the V J ya rife near the homestead fences, where the land slope* down towards the blue sea. Over the rise behind the house, a small mob of working bullocks were coming, driven by a boy err a big horse. Heedless of the volleying stockwhip, the bullocks picked their ■way across some broken ground’. The dogs that yapped and snapped were beneath the contempt of the old and seasoned bullocks. But there were two young bullocks, which had never been yoked, and they were nervous and anxious, making occasional rushes at the dogs, and bellowing. As Ben stood watching their approach, Carrie, a pretty maid of work passing on her way to the store-shed, asked him a question? “What are you getting ready for?” A dull flush showed beneath the tan of his faee and he answered briefly. “Break bulloeks.”' Ben did not feel inelined to talk. He was suffering from a sense of injured pride. On the evening before, in the presence of some of the other men she had turned her battery of sparkling banter upon him, and the men had laughed Since the girl’s arrival at the station some months before, Ben, .always slow speech and devoid of power of repartee or sense of humour, had felt the need of these things more than he ever did be-fffl-e. And : in her presence he was awkward and said little. But last night he had plucked up courage and made a joke,, it was a good joke too—for Ben; and she had raked him fore and aft with the fire of ridicule. The bullocks were yarded. Without further civility, Ben entered the yard and

Carrie passed on the store. The old bullocks, aeeustomed to being handled, settled down to theend of reflection'. The young ones moved restlessly about. One of these was bright red in colour with no mark of white about him. Splendidly proportioned, small head and heavy bull-neck, he looked a fighter. The other beast was liberally splashed with red and white and lacked the confident bearing of hie mate, yet ne had a look of dogged stubbornness. Hike a bull-fighter, Ben marched among the quiet bullocks, in his hands a long pole on the end of which a noose of rope was twisted. His object was to rope the young bullocks by the horns and yoke them together with collars and chains, for bullocks work in pairs, and the first step in their education is to teach each one to know his mate. They evaded Ben’s advances and his task would have been well-nigh impossible but for the stolid working bullocks which, refusing to be jostled, impeded the movements of the red one and his comrade. At last the noose slipped over the red fellow’s ho.-ns, the rope was passed round a solid strainer, set in the yard near the rails. Then the end was taken through the rails where three strong men tailed on. “Pull,” said Ben. The red bullock was surprised. He could not remember anytlring quite like this having happened to him. Taken off his guard, he moved forward a few paces. There he stopped, his head lowered to the strain. The last man on the rope took a turn round a post. Ben called to them to ease up a little. The beast raised hie head and looked about defiantly. Ben stirred him up at the baek with his pole and the bullock made a run off sideways that brought him a little nearer to the post. The slack '•ope was at once taken in. Again he baulked, heavy saliva dripping from his lips. He looked inquiringly at the other bullocks, but there were no signs of sympathy there. Then rage seized him. He fought for his freedom, bellowing and flying round the yard at the limit of the rope’s range. The rope held well. Blowing heavily, he eame to a standstill, head down, legs apart. Ben moved round towards the post. The bulloek saw him and sailed straight for him. Obviously, all this indignity was due to Ben. At the animal’s charge, Ben ran past the post and jumped nimbly on to the rails. When the bullock pulled up with a jerk at the end of his rope he was much nearer the post. Still he fought, making such a turmoil that the sleepy workers

began to be interested, while the other youngster was absolutely aghast. At last the red bullock's head was pulled down to the post and he knelt in the soft earth, angry and exhausted, rolling fearful eyes at Ben, who was bringing a leather collar and a short steel chain. At his approach the bullock strained and quivered, for there lurked in his slow brain, a dim memory of a terrible brand-ing-iron that had seared his hide when last a man touched him. As Ben buckled the collar about the strong neek and coupled the chain on. the bullock roared his rage and fear, but Ben went placidly on with his task. Then the bulioeky took his pole and roped the other recruit. This fellow proved sullen. He would not budge for any man. Head down he sagged backward on the rope and Ben had to drive him up to the bullock at the post. Even then he refused to go on his knees. So he was hauled as close as possible to the red one and Ben slipped a collar on his stubborn neck. The steel chain already linked to the red bullock was hooked up, securely linking them together. Then the ropes on the horns were released by Ben. The raging red fellow leaped to his feet and made one bound to catch the object of his-wrath—Ben. For one brief instant, to the inexperienced eye it seemed as though it would get him. In that moment an inexperienced but very interested watcher gave voice to her feelings in a cry that eame clear from her heart. “Ben! Ben!” Carrie, her arms filled with stores and the sunlight burning on her golden hair, was standing near the yards— had been standing for some time. The short chain brought the bullock up abruptly; his comrade was too slow-witted to enter into the chase at so short a notice and in the misunderstanding which ensued between the bullocks, Ben got beyond their reach and turned towards the girl. But he saw only a flutter of flying skirts and the gleam of a golden head. The men laughed. Ben took no heed of that and as he yolked his workers to roam the paddock and become accustomed to one another, he smiled often. The blood beat blithely in his veins through all that summer’s day, and even Smoker, the sulker of the team, got scarcely any whip. At evening, when his bullocks were feeding and resting after the day of toil, and the moon was rising over the sea, Ben saw a girl pass down the path from the house to the garden gate beneath the big trees. He left his seat on the steps of the wool-shed and eame up beside her. “That you, Carrie?” Before she could answer, he put a brawny arm round her and kissed her. “Oh’ Ben!” In a surprised and pleased kind of way. Then there was silence. Away out to sea, a steamer’s lights shone. The seawind rustled the leaves and touched the girl’s fair hair. And the moonlight streamed down on the empty cattleyards.