NEW ZEALAND STORIES.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVII, Issue 26, 26 June 1912, Page 55

NEW ZEALAND STORIES.

The Editor desires' to state that New Zealand Stories by New Zealand writers, are published on this page regularly. The page is open to any contributor, and all accepted stories will be paid for at current rates. Terse bright sketches of Dominion life and people, woven i>i short story form, are required,.and should be headed "New Zealand Stories.” Stamps for return of MS. viu st be enclosed

“ Hard-case Jimmy "

By

F. B. DOWDING

Y IM.MY was a local celebrity. _| Along a hundred miles of the Ft Great North Road his name was .a frequent household word, his latest exploits the topic of conversation at many a milking-shed and round many a winter evening card-table. He was a great six-foot stoek drover, with a figure so enormously square and heavy-looking that the tales of his remarkable agility seemed simply incredible His big, red, clean-shaven, straight-nosed face, though it bore the plain marks of drink and vice, ami was spoiled by a dirtv livid sear across the left chtek, had yet, at odd moments a certain reckless and heroic beauty. Under a brow wide and high, his bulging grey eyes gazed boldly, full of truculent, unbridle.l power. His hair was reddish, and fiercely curl v.

A born wit and story-teller was Jimmy. On occasion, and .when he was in the burnout, he eould keep a bar parlour full of men all laughing uproariously for hours while he recounted- his experiences, real and imaginary, on the road, or measured his razor-keen wits against all-com-ers. Ills wity it must be confessed, was often grtxasyliis laiigiiage would not often bear repetition in polite eireles, but his sallies were real wit, nevertheless, sharp, pithy, telling, and very often screamingly fiihny. No one wa-s ever known to beat him in a wit-contest; Another of’ Jimmy’s-*specialities was swearing. His profanity - was original: it bore the stamp of genius; it bit‘into one's'rsoul like avid. The man or beast to whom its current was directed was apt to leap to do Jimmy’s bidding as if driven ‘by red-hot irons. ‘People "who heard it for the first time were often observed to stand transfixed, gazing openmouthed after Jimmy till he disappeared with the herd of tired eattle along the dusty white road. It was jokingly said that when the wmen of a village saw him on the horizon, they all incontinently double-locked doors and windows, ami put their affrighted head under piles of pillows till he passed. The most astounding, the most utterly unexpected thing about Jimmy was his tvry real, if somewhat unorthodox love for Shakespeare. What strange freak of • in nmstanees had first started him on this hobby no one ever knew. Probably he had picked up the book at some auelion sale, and then taken to reading it in odil moments. Certain it is that he always carried an old eoverless India-l-aper edition jin his sadflle-lmg, ami when the spirit seized him, he would retire from the drinking clique at the bar, and sit in the billiard-room, clumsily thumbing pages, and reading, slowly and painfully, but with very evident keen relish. “Jimmy’s reading his Bible!” the billiard-marker would say, winking with the immemorial jaunty cunning of all billard markers known to history-, but no one ever molested him; it had been found to Ixr dangerous.

His education was, to say the least, '•■ry defective, so it is more than probable that a good one-half of what he read was beyond his understanding; nevertheless he had surprised more than

one man of fair culture by his acquaintance with the characters and the plots, and by the wealth of quotations lie had always al his tongue's end. Often, when half-drunk, he would recite long passages; ami one eould notice then that m spite of his uncouth utterances and bis strange inisp.ronouiicintions, lie still find an ear for the pomp ami majesty and music of the language. Once ho started, harassed bar-tenders were often hard P»t to it to get him to stop his quotations before closing time.

But most of all, with a love intense and high, Jimmy loved fighting. Once in what he called a “ —— good scrap,” ami the pride of life sang and leapt in his veins, and his face beamed with a serene ami perfect joy. He loved to tight as a born musician loves to play. But he would never light a lighter or weaker than himself; and as men of his herculean stamp were hard to find, he had often to content himself with two men of average size. After cheerfully, ami without malice, smashing them both into submission. In- would " shout ” them both, and make them his friends for life by bis commendation of the various good hits they had “got on to him.” Once he rode thirty miles to meet and light a drunken Englishman, who was reported om-e to have been a heavy-weight prize-fighter of repute. Jimmy fought six hard rounds with him, " put him to sleep” for half an hour, ami when he recovered, made firm friends with him. and thereafter helped his unworthy amt drunken earease out of many an unsavoury scrape. Somewhere deep down in Jimmy’s rough-hewn nature there was a rich vein of softness ami charity. He loved children—loved to play with them, to make

them toys, to buy them little presents when he went to town, Children loved him, too, ami would swarm to the front gates at his approach, despite frenzied appeals from scandalised mothers. Once he was approached by the Wesleyan parson, who asked him to aid in a subscription that was being raised. A bushman had been pinned under a log ami crushed out of all semblance to humanity; and the widow was Jeft with no means of support, and with six tiny children to rear.’ Jimmy swore at that parson, so that, it was said, the poor man looked pale for an hour afterwards. Then Jimmy rode down past the widow's house, gave a cheque for twenty pounds to a dirty little bare-footed mite of eight to give to her mother, and when he hitd once seen it delivered, galloped on his way whistling. There were many such actions recorded of Hard-case Jimmy. He rode a black mare, a fine-built, nervous pie«*e of beautiful palpitating life, who’would allow no one but Jimmy to ride, or even to approach her. Jimmy habitually swore at her viciously; but he had never been known to use whip or spur on her glossy black hide,, and the jade would follow him, without rope or bridle, to the end of the world. When he had first Imught her. and Iwfoi’e "She had been brought to be his doting slave, she had thrown him against a fence post,

and he had been earned into the station master’s house with a fractured skull.

There, many days afterwards, Jimmy awoke into a new world. Dimly he was

aware of*a new atmosphere —an air sweeter cleaner, although different, from all he had ever known before. Away in the shadows of his thoughts he could perceive a gracious female figure that gently tended him, appearing, as it seemed to him, out of nothingness, and

as mysteriously fading away again, leaving him with a choking sense of loneliness smh as a little child sometimes feels in the hissing silence of the night.

.Jimmy had never known a home, never realised the sweet experiences that every child should be heir to. His mother had died almost before he eould remember; his father, a. drunken, vicious loafer, had camped with him on the gum fields, carried him with him to bushfallers’ -.••amps, thrashed him, cursed at him, worked him,

kept him in continual fear of blows. Jimmy had stood at his graveside with stony eyes, and had turned away, a man of twelve, to fight his world alone. The school teacher had obtained - work for him at a neighbouring farm, where the

hoy slept in an outhouse, worked from dawn till dark like a very slave, ami went to school occasionally when there was temporarily, no work for him to do. From the sour-faced, filo-voiced old woman. ami the miserly, slinking slavedriving old man he had broken loose a few years later,’ and from then on had Jived by the 'wit of his fertile brain and the strength of his ujighty muscles. In all his life he had known no better home than an hotel, felt no liner companionship than that of barmaids, stable-boys aiid bar-loafers. - And Jimmy awoke in a house that was truly a home. From the genuine, cheeryvoiced stationmaster ami his sweet, serene, gentle wife, to the youngest toddler of two, the family was swayed by love, upheld by family pride, and employed daily in eonstbnt acts of consideration a ini kindness one to anot her. The little tempests of misunderstanding and temper that sometimes rutile the surface and cloud 11m* skies of all families. passed over this one, but Io leave its love 111014* sweetly -alm. ami its sunshine more cheery and bright. The flower of the whole family was the eldest’daughter—she whom Jimmy had seen, as a misty vision, appearing and reappearing at his bedside. It waft she who ha«l pleaded that he be allowed to slay when the doctor had pronounced

it dangerous to move him. She was, like her mother, a woman who, without great beauty, without brilliance, without even a compelling fascination, yet emanated gentleness, ami serenity ami quiet power as a bed of violets gives forth sweet odours. Not that she was a passionless waxen angel. . She could box her little brother’s ears on o<*«?asion; she had a very pretty pride in her person; she eould indulge in a very feminine envy of a girl better dressed than herself. For all that she was a true, gentle, sweet, woman, in whose company one found rest ami calm ami renewed faith in life. When .Jimmy at last penetrated the mists of half-consciousness, ami could see clearly once more, he be jin to watch his nurse out of his great eyes with a reverence that amounted to absolute awe. The women Jimmy had been well acquainted with, either on his visits to town or on the road, were not such that he could reverence them; amk his reputation had naturally debarred him from the companionship of women of any natural refinement. Lillian Antlerson seemed to him a new strange creation. As his great laxly took his strength again, his revereme grew until it was almost ludicrous to s«w the dog-like glances of adoration he east on her. With a line womanly' tact she affected to be unconscious of his admiration, and used her evident influence over him to give him some good advice, which Jimmy shamefacedly listened to as a big unruly lad might listen to a eluding from his Sunday school teacher. When he was able to sit in an armchair before the lire, he would watch the happy family life round him with tense wonder; and sometimes a look of poignant regret would creep over his face, as it he were realising for the first time how much of life he had missed. When he at last went hack on to the road again. Jimmy soon drifted into his old courses; but he never lost his rever-

ence lor the family, nor his respect ami dog-like adoration for Lillian Anderson. If he met her on the road he would flush like a. schoolboy, and address a few difficult shy wolds of greeting to her before he rode on, half relieved, half grieved, to be once again out of her company. If he were riding past the swearing, or his ribald songs, and make Iris companions do the same till they house at might. he would cease his *w«re out of- sight and sound of the family. (Ince, when Lillian was riding past tlie iMJtcl while -he was sitting on the verandah, two bar loafers passed a coarse won!, such as their diseased minds delighted in. about her. In two bounds Jimmy had seized them both, and ducked them in the great horsy trough at the pavement's edge, whence ho watched them struggle, wet, furious, and vengeful, but cowed by the look of deadly white rage on Jimmy's face.

'rime passed on. and a young, fairhaired Englishman a distant cousin came to live with the Anderson's. Jle was an athlete, a. fine boxer, and withal, fairly well educated, gifted with many talents, and a thorough good fellow at heart. He had come, with a ftmall capital. to seek fugitive fortune ii\ this new land. Tin* constant companionship of t wo sucii spirits as Erie Hathaway ami Eillian could have but one ending, and in the time of the peach blossoms they were married. After a brief honeymoon they settled down at the village store, which Erie had bought.

It was observed that .at the time of the wedding that Jimmy indulged in an unusually long and reckless spree, even for him, and that thereafter, for some time, he was more subdued than was his Wont, finding consolation in the constant companionship of his Shakespeare. But his wedding present was by far the most expensive one given, ami in time he took again to his old course, and oven made fast friends with Erie, who. like his sweet and radiant wife, sow ind reverenced the good beneath the rough exterior of Jimmy. Two uneventful years, ami h feeble wail began to be heard at intervals through the partition dividing the *lore from the house. From the...very fir-t there seemed to be a strong friendship mounting to love, l»etween Jimmy and this goldm haired, blue eyed morsel «»f humanity. Even at a wry < »rk • she would go to IriiH with out-drelrhr’ arms.' ami nestle .-dovv it to his gpeftt breast with a little «ign of evident. ' she ’ grew older, ami could tird <*r»v’ then toddle about and chatter, sjiy bv»»'» to took forward in Jimnn’s visits ’with’chuckling jov. If his il’uw»Tun» duties took him anywhere within intlei

of the Store, he would ride over on a Sunday, ostensibly to visit the two young people, but really to spend a day of delirious happiness with little sunnyhaired Jessie. To Lillian his attitude was always one of shy reverence, amounting to awe, and with Erie, though the two were firm friends, he had little community of interest, tut between him and the child there was a complete and beautiful understanding. He would romp with her for hours on the floor, the child crawling over him, twining her hands in his curly hair, poking inquisitive fingers in his eyes, and playing all manner of sly pranks with him. When he thought no one was looking he would sit talking to her in queer ‘baby talk of his own invention, or hugging her close in sleep, her chubby arms fast around his neek. He got his mare, who always met the approach of another hand than Jimmy's with bared teeth and wild eyes, to let Jessie stroke her glossy nozzle with impunity, and even to allow the little one to sit crowing on her back. (His pockets, when he eame, were always full of Sweets and little presents, and he would laugh boisterously as her tiny crawling fingers searched him for lollies or toys. When he left late in the evening he would tip toe into her room, and gaze at her sleeping in her cot in pretty flushed innocence. Then he would bend and kiss her gently, and perhaps hide some little present he had concealed before under her pillow. The child, on her part, was as fond of Jimmy as he was of her. She would often watch for him for hours at the window, and when he arrived would hide with childish glee, and then rush out and smother him with caresses and moist kisses. In the moments of her keenest infantile misery she could always be quieted by the now’s that Jimmy was coming. The parents watched the friendship, in which they had no part or lot with amusement, not unmixed with mild jealousy ; but they kept this latter to themselves, and Jimmy was made as welcome as the dawn whenever he liked to call. Soon it became understood that he would stay with them instead of at the hotel, when he passed through the village, and he never once drank, swore, or made himself in any way objectionable while in their house.

The strangest thing about all this was that, on’ other parts of the road, Jimmy was the same drunken, swearing, fighting reprobate he had always been, lie just seemed to keep this little corner of his life clean and garnished, a pure sanctuary where he could repair to refresh his soul.

One evening, in the quiet of the sunset, Jimmy drove his tired cattle past the store at the corner, waving to Jessie as he passed, and paddocked them near the saleyards at the other side of the railway crossing. He was returning on foot, stretching himself after a hard day’s riding, and his mare was following iiim closely, occasionally butting him gently with her pretty head. Away to the right he beard the shrill whistle of the afternoon train, sharp and startling, on the quiet air. A moment or two afterwards he heard a clear childish treble shouting his name, and in a flash of sudden terror, saw a little figure in a red pinafore running down the white hill to meet him. With a stab of anguish he saw the train coming out of a yellow cutting, only a few hundred yards off. and realised that little Jessie must inevitably cross the track just in time to be run down. Almost in the same instant he launched himself forward like a thunderbolt, shouting to her the while to keep back.

•It was all » matter of seconds. Jessie, not understanding his cries, bad run on, and he snatched her. it seemed from right under the engine, and flung her clear. His own body, caught by the train at full speed, was hurled far and high to one side, and fell with a sickening thud across a rata log by the side of the road, whence he rolled slowly and lay very still in the soft damp grass.

’when' they reached him he was death white, and scarcely breathing, and a cold sweat was on his brow; but his eyes were still alive and intelligent, his eves wild and affrighted. His mare was smelling him with dilated nostrils, A doctor who happened to be on the train fell him a little, and then shook hie head at those who wished to mowe him. They brought the child to him, and his eyes lit up with joy as he naw that she was whimpering and frightened, but unhurt. He held up one arm, and they hit 'her noetic done to his •ide, his arm around "her and her wet faee close to hi*. Presently the mother

came- running, and when she heard how Jimmy had saved the child, she kneft unashamed before them all, and kissed him reverently on the brow. At that last mark of favour Jimmy’s death-white face flushed again, and a great and radiant happiness seemed to come and settle on his brow. In a little w-hile the death change began to creep into his face, and they took the weeping child away. So, slowly and peacefully, in the gathering shadows, without pain and without regret, Jimmy took his last stretch of road, and found at last a home.