Digger Smith, Clarence James Dennis [detective books to read TXT] 📗

grins," sez Poole, "at ev'rything they say.
Dad Flood 'as nearly 'ad a fit to-day.
'E's cursed, an' ordered 'im clean off the place;
But this cove's face
Jist goes on grinnin', an' 'e sez, quite carm,
'E's come to do a bit around the farm."

The tale don't sound too good to me at all.
"If 'e's a crook," I sez, "'e wants a fall.
Maybe 'e's dilly. I'll go down an' see.
'E'll grin at me
When I 'ave done, if 'e needs dealin' with."
So I goes down to interview this Smith.

'E 'ad a fork out in the tater patch.
Sez 'e, "Why 'ello, Digger. Got a match?"
"Digger?" I sez. "Well, you ain't digger 'ere.
You better clear.
You ought to know that you can't dig them spuds.
They don't belong to you; they're ole Dad Flood's."

"Can't I?" 'e grins. "I'll do the best I can,
Considerin' I'm only 'arf a man.
Give us a light. I can't get none from Flood,
An' mine is dud."
I parts; an' 'e stands grinnin' at me still;
An' then 'e sez, "'Ave yeh fergot me, Bill?"

I looks, an' seen a tough bloke, short an' thin.
Then, Lord! I recomembers that ole grin.
"It's little Smith!" I 'owls, "uv Collin'wood.
Lad, this is good!
Last time I seen yeh, you an' Ginger Mick
Was 'owling rags, out on yer final kick."

"Yer on to it," 'e sez. "Nex' day we sailed.
Now 'arf uv me's back 'ome, an' 'arf they nailed.
An' Mick. . . . Ar, well, Fritz took me down a peg."
'E waves 'is leg.
"It ain't too bad," 'e sez, with 'is ole smile;
"But when I starts to dig it cramps me style.

"But I ain't grouchin'. It was worth the fun.
We 'ad some picnic stoushin' Brother 'Un--
The only fight I've 'ad that some John 'Op
Don't come an' stop.
They pulled me leg a treat, but, all the same,
There's nothin' over 'ere to beat the game.

"An' now," 'e sez, "I'm 'ere to do a job
I promised, if it was me luck to lob
Back 'ome before me mate," 'e sez, an' then,
'E grins again.
"As clear as mud," I sez. "But I can't work
Me brains to 'old yer pace. Say, wot's the lurk?"

So then 'e puts me wise. It seems that 'im
An' this 'ere Flood--I tips it must be Jim--
Was cobbers up in France, an' things occurred.
(I got 'is word
Things did occur up there). But, anyway,
Seems Flood done somethin' good for 'im one day.

Then Smith 'e promised if 'e came back 'ome
Before 'is cobber o'er the flamin' foam,
'E'd see the ole folks 'ere, an' 'e agreed,
If there was need,
'E'd stay an' do a bit around the farm
So long as 'e 'ad one sound, dinkum arm.

"So, 'ere I am," 'e sez, an' grins again.
"A promise is a promise 'mong us men."
Sez I, "You come along up to the 'ouse.
Ole Dad won't rouse
When once 'e's got yer strength, an' as for Mar,
She'll kiss yeh when she finds out 'oo yeh are."

So we goes up, an' finds 'em both fair dazed
About this little Smith; they think 'e's crazed.
I tells the tale in words they understand;
Then it was grand
To see Dad grab Smith's 'and an' pump it good,
An' Mar, she kissed 'im, like I said she would.

Mar sez 'e must be starved, an' right away
The kettle's on, she's busy with a tray.
An', when I left, this Digger Smith 'e looked
Like 'e was booked
For keeps, with tea an' bread an' beef inside.
"Our little Willie's 'ome," 'e grins, "an' dried."



V. WEST


West


"I'VE seen so much uv dirt an' grime
I'm mad to 'ave things clean.
I've seen so much uv death," 'e said--
"So many cobbers lyin' dead--
You won't know wot I mean;
But, lad, I've 'ad so much uv strife
I want things straightened in my life.

"I've seen so much uv 'ate," 'e said--
"Mad 'ate an' silly rage--
I'm yearnin' for clear thoughts," said 'e.
"Kindness an' love seem good to me.
I want a new, white page
To start all over, clean an' good,
An' live me life as reel men should."

We're sittin' talkin' by the fence,
The sun's jist goin' down,
Paintin' the sky all gold an' pink.
Said 'e, "When it's like that, I think--"
An' then 'e stops to frown.
Said 'e, "I think, when it's jist so,
Uv . . . . God or somethin': I dunno.

"I ain't seen much uv God," said 'e;
"Not 'ere nor Over There;
But, partly wot I've seen an' read,
An' partly wot the padre said,
It gits me when I stare
Out West when it's like that is now.
There must be somethin' else--some'ow.

"I've thought a lot," said Digger Smith--
"Out There I thought a lot.
I thought uv death, an' all the rest,
An' uv me mates, good mates gone West;
An' it ain't much I've got;
But things get movin' in me 'ead
When I look over there," 'e said.

'E's got me beat, 'as little Smith.
I knoo 'im years ago
I knoo 'im as a reel tough boy
'Oo roughed it up with 'oly joy;
But now, well, I dunno.
An' when I ask Mar Flood she sighs--
An' sez 'e's got the Anzac eyes.

She sez 'e's got them soldier's eyes
That makes 'er own eyes wet.
An' we must give 'im wholesome food
An' lead 'is thoughts to somethin' good
An' never let 'im fret.
But 'e ain't frettin', seems to me;
More--puzzled, fur as I can see.

The clouds above the hills was tore
Apart, until, some'ow,
It seemed like some big, shinin' gate.
Said 'e, "Why, lad, I tell yeh straight,
I feel like startin' now,
An' walkin' on, an' on, an' thro',
Dead game an'--Ain't it so to you?

"I've seen enough uv pain," 'e said,
"An' cursin', killin' 'ordes.
I ain't the man to smooge with God
To get to 'Eaven on the nod,
Or 'owl 'ymns for rewards.
But this believin'? Why--Oh, 'Struth
This never 'it me in me youth.

"They talk uv love 'twixt men," said 'e.
"That sounds dead crook to you.
But lately I 'ave come to see." . . .
"'Old on," I said; "it seems to me
There's love uv women too.
An you?" 'E turns away 'is 'ead.
"I'm only 'arf a man," 'e said.

"I've seen so much uv death," said 'e,
"Me mind is in a whirl.
I've 'ad so many thoughts uv late." . . .
Said I, "Now, tell me, tell me straight;
Own up; ain't there a girl?"
Said 'e, "I've done the best I can.
Wot does she want with 'arf a man?"

It weren't no use. 'E wouldn't talk
Uv nothin' but that sky.
Said 'e, "Now, dinkum, talkin' square,
When you git gazin' over there
Don't you 'arf want to cry?
I wouldn't be su'prised to see
An angel comin' out," said 'e.

"Gone West!" said Digger Smith. "Ah, lad,
I've seen 'em goin' West,
An' often wonder, when I look,
If they 'ave 'ad it dealt 'em crook,
Or if they've got the rest
They earned twice over by the spell
They spent down in that dinkum 'Ell."

The gold was creepin' up, the sun
Was 'arf be'ind the range.
It don't seem strange a man should cry
To see that glory in the sky
To me it don't seem strange.
"Digger!" said 'e. "Look at it now!
There must be somethin' else--some'ow."



VI. OVER THE FENCE


Over the Fence


'TAINT my idea uv argument to call a man a fool,
An' I ain't lookin' round for bricks to 'eave at ole man Poole;
But when 'e gets disputin' 'e's inclined to lose 'is 'ead.
It ain't so much 'is choice uv words as 'ow the words is said.

'E's sich a coot for takin' sides, as I sez to Doreen.
Sez she, "'Ow can 'e, by 'imself ?" Wotever that may mean.
My wife sez little things sometimes that nearly git me riled.
I knoo she meant more than she said be that soft way she smiled.

To-day, when I was 'arrowin', Poole comes down to the fence
To get the loan uv my long spade; an' uses that pretence
To 'ave a bit uv friendly talk, an' one word leads to more,
As is the way with ole man Poole, as I've remarked before.

The spade reminds 'im 'ow 'e done some diggin' in 'is day,
An' diggin' brings the talk to earth, an' earth leads on to clay,
Then clay quite natural reminds a thinkin' bloke uv bricks,
An' mortar brings up mud, an' then, uv course, it's politics.

Now, Poole sticks be 'is Party, an' I don't deny 'is right;
But when 'e starts