Chapter VII.
Cranky Jack.
It was early in the day. Traveller after traveller was trudging byShingle Hut. One who carried no swag halted at the rails and came in.He asked Dad for a job. "I dunno," Dad answered--"What wages would youwant?" The man said he would n't want any. Dad engaged him at once.
And SUCH a man! Tall, bony, heavy-jawed, shaven with a reaping-hook,apparently. He had a thick crop of black hair--shaggy, unkempt, andfull of grease, grass, and fragments of dry gum-leaves. On his headwere two old felt hats--one sewn inside the other. On his back a shirtmade from a piece of blue blanket, with white cotton stitches stridingup and down it like lines of fencing. His trousers were gloom itself;they were a problem, and bore reliable evidence of his industry. Noordinary person would consider himself out of work while in them. Andthe new-comer was no ordinary person. He seemed to have all the woe ofthe world upon him; he was as sad and weird-looking as a widow out inthe wet.
In the yard was a large heap of firewood--remarkable truth!--which Dadtold him to chop up. He began. And how he worked! The axe rangagain--particularly when it left the handle--and pieces of woodscattered everywhere. Dad watched him chopping for a while, then wentwith Dave to pull corn.
For hours the man chopped away without once looking at the sun. Mothercame out. Joy! She had never seen so much wood cut before. She wasdelighted. She made a cup of tea and took it to the man, andapologised for having no sugar to put in it. He paid no attention toher; he worked harder. Mother waited, holding the tea in her hand. Alump of wood nearly as big as a shingle flew up and shaved her leftear. She put the tea on the ground and went in search of eggs fordinner. (We were out of meat--the kangaroo-dog was lame. He had got"ripped" the last time we killed.)
The tea remained on the ground. Chips fell into it. The dog saw it.He limped towards it eagerly, and dipped the point of his nose in it.It burnt him. An aged rooster strutted along and looked sideways atit. HE distrusted it and went away. It attracted the pig--a sow withnine young ones. She waddled up, and poked the cup over with her nose;then she sat down on it, while the family joyously gathered round thesaucer. Still the man chopped on.
Mother returned--without any eggs. She rescued the crockery from thepigs and turned curiously to the man. She said, "Why, you've let themtake the tea!" No answer. She wondered.
Suddenly, and for the fiftieth time, the axe flew off. The man heldthe handle and stared at the woodheap. Mother watched him. He removedhis hats, and looked inside them. He remained looking inside them.
Mother watched him more closely. His lips moved. He said, "LISTEN TOTHEM! THEY'RE COMING! I KNEW THEY'D FOLLOW!"
"Who?" asked Mother, trembling slightly.
"THEY'RE IN THE WOOD!" he went on. "Ha, ha! I've got them. They'llnever get out; NEVER GET OUT!"
Mother fled, screaming. She ran inside and called the children. Salassisted her. They trooped in like wallabies--all but Joe. He wasaway earning money. He was getting a shilling a week from Maloney, forchasing cockatoos from the corn.
They closed and barricaded the doors, and Sal took down the gun, whichMother made her hide beneath the bed. They sat listening, anxiouslyand intently. The wind began to rise. A lump of soot fell from thechimney into the fireplace--where there was no fire. Mother shuddered.Some more fell. Mother jumped to her feet. So did Sal. They lookedat each other in dismay. The children began to cry. The chain forhanging the kettle on started swinging to and fro. Mother's knees gaveway. The chain continued swinging. A pair of bare legs came down intothe fireplace--they were curled round the chain. Mother collapsed.Sal screamed, and ran to the door, but could n't open it. The legsleft the chain and dangled in the air. Sal called "Murder!"
Her cry was answered. It was Joe, who had been over at Maloney'smaking his fortune. He came to the rescue. He dropped out of thechimney and shook himself. Sal stared at him. He was calm and coveredfrom head to foot with soot and dirt. He looked round and said,"Thought yuz could keep me out, did'n'y'?" Sal could only look at him."I saw yuz all run in," he was saying, when Sal thought of Mother, andsprang to her. Sal shook her, and slapped her, and threw water on hertill she sat up and stared about. Then Joe stared.
Dad came in for dinner--which, of course, was n't ready. Mother beganto cry, and asked him what he meant by keeping a madman on the place,and told him she KNEW he wanted to have them all murdered. Dad did n'tunderstand. Sal explained. Then he went out and told the man to"Clear!" The man simply said, "No."
"Go on, now!" Dad said, pointing to the rails. The man smiled at thewood-heap as he worked. Dad waited. "Ain't y' going?" he repeated.
"Leave me alone when I'm chopping wood for the missus," the mananswered; then smiled and muttered to himself. Dad left him alone andwent inside wondering.
Next day Mother and Dad were talking at the barn. Mother, bare-headed,was holding some eggs in her apron. Dad was leaning on a hoe.
"I am AFRAID of him," Mother said; "it's not right you should keep himabout the place. No one's safe with such a man. Some day he'll takeit in his head to kill us all, and then--"
"Tut, tut, woman; poor old Jack! he's harmless as a baby."
"All right," (sullenly); "you'll see!"
Dad laughed and went away with the hoe on his shoulder to cut burr.
Middle of summer. Dad and Dave in the paddock mowing lucerne. Jacksinking post-holes for a milking-yard close to the house. Joe atintervals stealing behind him to prick him with straws through a rentin the rear of his patched moleskins. Little Bill--in readiness torun--standing off, enjoying the sport.
Inside the house sat Mother and Sal, sewing and talking of Maloney'snew baby.
"Dear me," said Mother; "it's the tiniest mite of a thing I ever saw;why, bless me, anyone of y' at its age would have made three of--"
"MIND, Mother!" Sal shrieked, jumping up on the sofa. Mother screamedand mounted the table. Both gasped for breath, and leaning cautiouslyover peeped down at a big black snake which had glided in at the frontdoor. Then, pale and scared-looking, they stared across at each other.
The snake crawled over to the safe and drank up some milk which hadbeen spilt on the floor. Mother saw its full length and groaned. Thesnake wriggled to the leg of the table.
"Look out!" cried Sal, gathering up her skirts and dancing about on thesofa.
Mother squealed hysterically.
Joe appeared. He laughed.
"You wretch!" Mother yelled. "Run!--RUN, and fetch your father!"
Joe went and brought Jack.
"Oh-h, my God!"--Mother moaned, as Jack stood at the door, staringstrangely at her. "Kill it!--why don't he kill it?"
Jack did n't move, but talked to himself. Mother shuddered.
The reptile crawled to the bedroom door. Then for the first time theman's eyes rested upon it. It glided into the bedroom, and Mother andSal ran off for Dad.
Jack fixed his eyes on the snake and continued muttering to himself.Several times it made an attempt to mount the dressing-table. Finallyit succeeded. Suddenly Jack's demeanour changed. He threw off hisragged hat and talked wildly. A fearful expression filled his uglyfeatures. His voice altered.
"You're the Devil!" he said; "THE DEVIL! THE DEVIL! The missusbrought you--ah-h-h!"
The snake's head passed behind the looking-glass. Jack drew nearer,clenching his fists and gesticulating. As he did he came full beforethe looking-glass and saw, perhaps for the first time in his life, hisown image. An unearthly howl came from him. "ME FATHER!" he shouted,and bolted from the house.
Dad came in with the long-handled shovel, swung it about the room, andsmashed pieces off the cradle, and tore the bed-curtains down, and madea great noise altogether. Finally, he killed the snake and put it onthe fire; and Joe and the cat watched it wriggle on the hot coals.
Meanwhile, Jack, bare-headed, rushed across the yard. He ran overlittle Bill, and tumbled through the wire-fence on to the broa
d of hisback. He roared like a wild beast, clutched at space, spat, and kickedhis heels in the air.
"Let me up!---AH-H-H!--let go me throat!" he hissed.
The dog ran over and barked at him. He found his feet again, and,making off, ran through the wheat, glancing back over his shoulder ashe tore along. He crossed into the grass paddock, and running to a bigtree dodged round and round it. Then from tree to tree he went, andthat evening at sundown, when Joe was bringing the cows home, Jack wasstill flying from "his father".
After supper.
"I wonder now what the old fool saw in that snake to send him off hishead like that?" Dad said, gazing wonderingly into the fire. "He seesplenty of them, goodness knows."
"That was n't it. It was n't the snake at all," Mother said; "therewas madness in the man's eyes all the while. I saw it the moment hecame to the door." She appealed to Sal.
"Nonsense!" said Dad; "NONSENSE!" and he tried to laugh.
"Oh, of course it's NONSENSE," Mother went on; "everything I say isnonsense. It won't be nonsense when you come home some day and find usall on the floor with our throats cut."
"Pshaw!" Dad answered; "what's the use of talking like that?" Then toDave: "Go out and see if he's in the barn!"
Dave fidgetted. He did n't like the idea. Joe giggled.
"Surely you're not FRIGHTENED?" Dad shouted.
Dave coloured up.
"No--don't think so," he said; and, after a pause, "YOU go and see."
It was Dad's turn to feel uneasy. He pretended to straighten the fire,and coughed several times. "Perhaps it's just as well," he said, "tolet him be to-night."
Of course, Dad was n't afraid; he SAID he was n't, but he drove thepegs in the doors and windows before going to bed that night.
Next morning, Dad said to Dave and Joe, "Come 'long, and we'll seewhere he's got to."
In a gully at the back of the grass-paddock they found him. He wasploughing--sitting astride the highest limb of a fallen tree, and, in ahoarse voice and strange, calling out--"Gee, Captain!--come here,Tidy!--WA-AY!"
"Blowed if I know," Dad muttered, coming to a standstill. "Wonder ifhe is clean mad?"
Dave was speechless, and Joe began to tremble.
They listened. And as the man's voice rang out in the quiet gully andthe echoes rumbled round the ridge and the affrighted birds flew up,the place felt eerie somehow.
"It's no use bein' afraid of him," Dad went on. "We must go and bouncehim, that's all." But there was a tremor in Dad's voice which Dave didn't like.
"See if he knows us, anyway."--and Dad shouted, "HEY-Y!"
Jack looked up and immediately scrambled from the limb. That wasenough for Dave. He turned and made tracks. So did Dad and Joe. Theyran. No one could have run harder. Terror overcame Joe. He squealedand grabbed hold of Dad's shirt, which was ballooning in the wind.
"Let go!" Dad gasped. "DAMN Y', let me GO! "--trying to shake himoff. But Joe had great faith in his parent, and clung to him closely.
When they had covered a hundred yards or so, Dave glanced back, andseeing that Jack was n't pursuing them, stopped and chuckled at theothers.
"Eh?" Dad said, completely winded--"Eh?" Then to Dave, when he gotsome breath:
"Well, you ARE an ass of a fellow. (PUFF!). What th' DEVIL did y' RUNf'?"
"Wot did I run f'? What did YOU run f'?"
"Bah!" and Dad boldly led the way back.
"Now look here (turning fiercely upon Joe), don't you come catchinghold of me again, or if y' DO I'll knock y'r d--d head off!...Clearhome altogether, and get under the bed if y're as frightened as THAT."
Joe slunk behind.
But when Dad DID approach Jack, which was n't until he had talked agreat deal to him across a big log, the latter did n't show any desireto take life, but allowed himself to be escorted home and locked in thebarn quietly enough.
Dad kept Jack confined in the barn several days, and if anyoneapproached the door or the cracks he would ask:
"Is me father there yet?"
"Your father's dead and buried long ago, man," Dad used to tell him.
"Yes," he would say, "but he's alive again. The missus keeps him inthere"--indicating the house.
And sometimes when Dad was not about Joe would put his mouth to a crackand say:
"Here's y'r FATHER, Jack!" Then, like a caged beast, the man wouldhowl and tramp up and down, his eyes starting out of his head, whileJoe would bolt inside and tell Mother that "Jack's getting out,", andnearly send her to her grave.
But one day Jack DID get out, and, while Mother and Sal were ironingcame to the door with the axe on his shoulder.
They dropped the irons and shrank into a corner and coweredpiteously--too scared even to cry out.
He took no notice of them, but, moving stealthily on tip-toes,approached the bedroom door and peeped in. He paused just a moment togrip the axe with both hands. Then with a howl and a bound he enteredthe room and shattered the looking-glass into fragments.
He bent down and looked closely at the pieces.
"He's dead now," he said calmly, and walked out. Then he went to workat the post-holes again, just as though nothing had happened.
Fifteen years have passed since then, and the man is still at ShingleHut. He was the best horse Dad ever had. He slaved from daylight tilldark; keeps no Sunday; knows no companion; lives chiefly on meat andmachine oil; domiciles in the barn; and has never asked for a rise inhis wages. His name we never knew. We call him "Jack." The neighbourscalled him "CRANKY Jack."