Joe Wilson and His Mates [13]
could easily have fallen out when Romany fell,
and we decided it that way.
`Any way,' said Jimmy Nowlett, `if he'd stuck Joe in hot blood before us all
it wouldn't be so bad as if he sneaked up and stuck him in the back
in the dark. But you'd best keep an eye over yer shoulder
for a year or two, Joe. That chap's got Eye-talian blood in him somewhere.
And now the best thing you chaps can do is to keep your mouth shut
and keep all this dark from the gals.'
Jack hurried me on ahead. He seemed to act queer, and when I glanced at him
I could have sworn that there was water in his eyes. I said that Jack
had no sentiment except for himself, but I forgot, and I'm sorry I said it.
`What's up, Jack?' I asked.
`Nothing,' said Jack.
`What's up, you old fool?' I said.
`Nothing,' said Jack, `except that I'm damned proud of you, Joe, you old ass!'
and he put his arm round my shoulders and gave me a shake.
`I didn't know it was in you, Joe -- I wouldn't have said it before,
or listened to any other man say it, but I didn't think you had the pluck --
God's truth, I didn't. Come along and get your face fixed up.'
We got into my room quietly, and Jack got a dish of water,
and told one of the chaps to sneak a piece of fresh beef from somewhere.
Jack was as proud as a dog with a tin tail as he fussed round me.
He fixed up my face in the best style he knew, and he knew a good many --
he'd been mended himself so often.
While he was at work we heard a sudden hush and a scraping of feet
amongst the chaps that Jack had kicked out of the room,
and a girl's voice whispered, `Is he hurt? Tell me. I want to know, --
I might be able to help.'
It made my heart jump, I can tell you. Jack went out at once,
and there was some whispering. When he came back he seemed wild.
`What is it, Jack?' I asked.
`Oh, nothing,' he said, `only that damned slut of a half-caste cook
overheard some of those blanky fools arguing as to how Romany's knife
got out of the sheath, and she's put a nice yarn round amongst the girls.
There's a regular bobbery, but it's all right now. Jimmy Nowlett's
telling 'em lies at a great rate.'
Presently there was another hush outside, and a saucer
with vinegar and brown paper was handed in.
One of the chaps brought some beer and whisky from the pub,
and we had a quiet little time in my room. Jack wanted to stay all night,
but I reminded him that his little wife was waiting for him in Solong,
so he said he'd be round early in the morning, and went home.
I felt the reaction pretty bad. I didn't feel proud of the affair at all.
I thought it was a low, brutal business all round. Romany was a quiet chap
after all, and the chaps had no right to chyack him. Perhaps he'd had
a hard life, and carried a big swag of trouble that we didn't know
anything about. He seemed a lonely man. I'd gone through enough myself
to teach me not to judge men. I made up my mind to tell him
how I felt about the matter next time we met. Perhaps I made
my usual mistake of bothering about `feelings' in another party
that hadn't any feelings at all -- perhaps I didn't; but it's generally best
to chance it on the kind side in a case like this. Altogether I felt
as if I'd made another fool of myself and been a weak coward.
I drank the rest of the beer and went to sleep.
About daylight I woke and heard Jack's horse on the gravel.
He came round the back of the buggy-shed and up to my door,
and then, suddenly, a girl screamed out. I pulled on
my trousers and 'lastic-side boots and hurried out. It was Mary herself,
dressed, and sitting on an old stone step at the back of the kitchen
with her face in her hands, and Jack was off his horse
and stooping by her side with his hand on her shoulder.
She kept saying, `I thought you were ----! I thought you were ----!'
I didn't catch the name. An old single-barrel, muzzle-loader shot-gun
was lying in the grass at her feet. It was the gun they used to keep
loaded and hanging in straps in a room of the kitchen ready for a shot
and we decided it that way.
`Any way,' said Jimmy Nowlett, `if he'd stuck Joe in hot blood before us all
it wouldn't be so bad as if he sneaked up and stuck him in the back
in the dark. But you'd best keep an eye over yer shoulder
for a year or two, Joe. That chap's got Eye-talian blood in him somewhere.
And now the best thing you chaps can do is to keep your mouth shut
and keep all this dark from the gals.'
Jack hurried me on ahead. He seemed to act queer, and when I glanced at him
I could have sworn that there was water in his eyes. I said that Jack
had no sentiment except for himself, but I forgot, and I'm sorry I said it.
`What's up, Jack?' I asked.
`Nothing,' said Jack.
`What's up, you old fool?' I said.
`Nothing,' said Jack, `except that I'm damned proud of you, Joe, you old ass!'
and he put his arm round my shoulders and gave me a shake.
`I didn't know it was in you, Joe -- I wouldn't have said it before,
or listened to any other man say it, but I didn't think you had the pluck --
God's truth, I didn't. Come along and get your face fixed up.'
We got into my room quietly, and Jack got a dish of water,
and told one of the chaps to sneak a piece of fresh beef from somewhere.
Jack was as proud as a dog with a tin tail as he fussed round me.
He fixed up my face in the best style he knew, and he knew a good many --
he'd been mended himself so often.
While he was at work we heard a sudden hush and a scraping of feet
amongst the chaps that Jack had kicked out of the room,
and a girl's voice whispered, `Is he hurt? Tell me. I want to know, --
I might be able to help.'
It made my heart jump, I can tell you. Jack went out at once,
and there was some whispering. When he came back he seemed wild.
`What is it, Jack?' I asked.
`Oh, nothing,' he said, `only that damned slut of a half-caste cook
overheard some of those blanky fools arguing as to how Romany's knife
got out of the sheath, and she's put a nice yarn round amongst the girls.
There's a regular bobbery, but it's all right now. Jimmy Nowlett's
telling 'em lies at a great rate.'
Presently there was another hush outside, and a saucer
with vinegar and brown paper was handed in.
One of the chaps brought some beer and whisky from the pub,
and we had a quiet little time in my room. Jack wanted to stay all night,
but I reminded him that his little wife was waiting for him in Solong,
so he said he'd be round early in the morning, and went home.
I felt the reaction pretty bad. I didn't feel proud of the affair at all.
I thought it was a low, brutal business all round. Romany was a quiet chap
after all, and the chaps had no right to chyack him. Perhaps he'd had
a hard life, and carried a big swag of trouble that we didn't know
anything about. He seemed a lonely man. I'd gone through enough myself
to teach me not to judge men. I made up my mind to tell him
how I felt about the matter next time we met. Perhaps I made
my usual mistake of bothering about `feelings' in another party
that hadn't any feelings at all -- perhaps I didn't; but it's generally best
to chance it on the kind side in a case like this. Altogether I felt
as if I'd made another fool of myself and been a weak coward.
I drank the rest of the beer and went to sleep.
About daylight I woke and heard Jack's horse on the gravel.
He came round the back of the buggy-shed and up to my door,
and then, suddenly, a girl screamed out. I pulled on
my trousers and 'lastic-side boots and hurried out. It was Mary herself,
dressed, and sitting on an old stone step at the back of the kitchen
with her face in her hands, and Jack was off his horse
and stooping by her side with his hand on her shoulder.
She kept saying, `I thought you were ----! I thought you were ----!'
I didn't catch the name. An old single-barrel, muzzle-loader shot-gun
was lying in the grass at her feet. It was the gun they used to keep
loaded and hanging in straps in a room of the kitchen ready for a shot