Digger Smith | Page 6

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 abusin' mine 'e's lookin' for a fight.
So I delivers good 'ome
truths about 'is crowd; then Poole Wags 'is ole beard across the fence
an' tells me I'm a fool.
Now, that's the dizzy limit; so I lays aside the reins,
An' starts to
prove 'e's storin' mud where most blokes keeps

their brains.
'E decorates 'is answers, an' we're goin' it ding-dong,

When this returned bloke, Digger Smith, comes sauntering along.
Poole's gripped the fence as though 'e means to tear the rails
in two,
An' eyes my waggin' finger like 'e wants to 'ave a chew.

Then Digger Smith 'e grins at Poole, an' then 'e looks at me, An' sez,
quite soft an' friendly-like, "Winnin' the war?" sez 'e.
Now, Poole deserves it, an' I'm pleased the lad give 'im that jolt. 'E goes
fair mad in argument when once 'e gets a holt.
"Yeh make me sad,"
sez Digger Smith; "the both uv you," sez 'e. "The both uv us!
Gawstruth!" sez I. "You ain't includin' me?"
"Well, it