Jim of the Hills | Page 6

a wife to do my cookin', But for
somethin' sweet and tender of the kind that kiss an' cling.
Oh, for such a one I'd battle, an' I'd win by hook or crook; But it did
seem sort of foolish to go fightin' for a cook.
Standin' on the sawdust heap
I feel mean an' rather cheap,
Widows? Let the widow go!
What we fought for I don't know.

Murray offers me his hand:
"Jim, you've won; so understand,
I don't mean to block your road . . ."
But I answer, "That be blowed!"
"Why, it's Spring, man, Spring!" (An' I gave his fist a wring) "If you
reckoned me your rival, give up thinkin' such a thing.
I just fought for fun an' frolic, so don't you get melancholic; An', if you
have notions yonder, why, buck up an' buy the ring!
Put some beefsteak on your eye, lad, an' learn how to keep your guard."
Then I put my coat an' vest on, an' walked homeward . . . thinkin' hard.
V. THE VISION
Of things that roam about the bush I ain't got many fears,
For I knows
their ways an' habits, and I've chummed with them for years.
For man or beast or gully ghost I've pluck enough to spare; But I draws
the line at visions with the sunlight in their hair.
When a man has fought an' conquered it is good in many ways: There's
the pride in having done it, an' the other fellows' praise;
There's the glory an' the standin' that you get among the men - All their
looks are more respectful since I socked it into Ben.

I was feelin' fine this mornin' when I started out to work; An' I caught
myself high-steppin' with a boastful sort of jerk;
With my head a trifle higher an' my eye a little stern.
I thought the
world was mine for keeps; but I'd a lot to learn.
Young Dick, the Dusty, wasn't half as cheeky as of old;
The men
were actin' friendly-like, but I kept kind of cold
An' distant, as becomes a bloke who's scored a knock-out thump - Till
just approachin' dinner time; an' then I got my bump.
It's fine to see your cobbers lookin' at you like the know
You're not a
man to trifle with; at least, I found it so.
Ben Murray was quite affable, an' once he whispered me
There's a
certain somethin' doin', an' he'll see me privately.
I was workin' at the rip saw, cursin' at my achin' back,
When I saw
the blessed vision comin' down the log-year track.
There were others in the party, but the one that got my stare Was her
with two brown, laughin' eyes an' sunlight in her hair.
"More visitors!" growled old man Pike. "Another city push. I'll bet a
quid they ask us why we 'spoil the lovely bush."
I hardly heard him saying it, for like a fool I stand,
My eyes full of
the vision an' a batten in my hand.
"You gone to sleep?" the sawyer said. "What's got you mesmerized?" I
start to work like fury, but my thoughts can't be disguised.
"Oh, Jim's gone dippy with the Spring"; replies old Pike an' grins. I turn
to answer dignified; but trip, an' bark my shins.
Next thing I know the boss is there, an' talkin' fine an' good.
Explaining' to the visitors how trees are made of wood.

They murmur things like "Marvellous!" an' "What a monster tree!" An'
then the one with sunlit hair comes right bang up to me.
"I saw you fall," she sort of sung: you couldn't say she talked, For her
voice had springtime in it, like the way she looked an' walked.
"I saw you fall," she sung at me. "I hope you were not hurt." An'
suddenly I was aware I wore my oldest shirt.
"It never hurt me half as much as your two smilin' eyes."
That's how I
could have answered her - and watched old Pike's surprise -
"It never harmed me half as much as standin' here like this With
tattered shirt an' grimy hands" . . . But I just says, "No, Miss."
"Oh, no," I says. "We're pretty hard, an' have to take them cracks." (But
just to see her sudden smile, made me as soft as wax.)
"You're strong," she smiles. I answers, "Oh, I'm pretty strong, all right."
An' close behind I heard old Pike observin', "Hear 'im skite!"
That finished me. I lost what little nerve I had, an' grew Dead certain
that I looked a fool, an' that she thought so, too.
She talked some more; but I can't tell what other things she said. I went
all cold, except my ears, an' thye were burnin' red.
I only knew her eyes were soft, her voice