Hookey Ben's Reformation. A Shearing Shed Story of a Rough Diamond Polished.

Free Lance, Volume III, Issue 159, 18 July 1903, Page 17

Hookey Ben's Reformation. A Shearing Shed Story of a Rough Diamond Polished.

WELL," remaiked a big man, of an almost umfoim brick-red complexion, as he stared round at the assembly , "seems to me we'ie pretty nigh all 'ere now ." The men had been straggling in all day ready to begin shearing at dawn. Nearly all were old hands who put m an annual appearance. "Yes," said another, " cept Hookey Ben , ain't any on yer seen 'impm p Gen'alh 'c's first 'ere and last gam . Wouldn't be s'prised, howsumever to hear 'ed pegged out last winter. Wot with boozm' and ther cold 'c ought ter be pretty night dun fer." "Sarve 'im right," says Temperance Joe "T've seen boozers, but 'c beats all I ever see." Just then a figure was seen emerging from the gloom. Soon it was within the circle of liejht issuing through the open door. The new-comer, a respectable^ ookmg man, with a neat swag, had one hand held stiffly by his side, in a peculiar manner. There was silence, as for a second or two he stood looking almost bashfully around him, and then "By gosh, it's Hookey Ben," came m a gasp of astonishment from two or three men. "Why, wot's come to yer? Ye ain't surely sober, man?" "Yes, I am that," answered Ben defiantly; "and so fur as I knows alleis will be." " 'Ere, 'ere," said Joe. "Put. up yer swag, Ben. Light up yer pipes, mates, and we'll 'aye the yarn. If there ain't a yarn 'anqing to this I'm a Jem Tyson-" Ben lit up and talked. "Well, mates, pretty near all o' yer know what sort I've bin this many a year. Jist earnm' a few pun' at shearin' and then goin' off straight ter Mother Timothy's ter git paralytic, and stoppin' that wav till I blued it. I onv 'ad rags ter me back, and never a livin' soul cared whether I lived or pegged out. Till last shearin', I mean, any'ow. " 'Aye any of yer seen Miss Dorothy wot was up at the boss's 'ouse last year, and she's there now? Ter-morrow she's going 'ome ter Sydney ter marry that young lawyer chap wot wuz up last year too. Not 'alf good enough fer the likes opt' 'pt neither, I says. "Well, when I left 'ere after shearin', off I wuz makin' as usual fer Timothy's. When I come ter the big clump of wattles down in the end paddock I sat down. It bein' a 'ot day, and me tired, I went off asleep in the shade. All at wxinst I 'card a terrible gallopm' noise. I was only 'alf awake and then something prodded me 'ard in the side, and someone sez, gasping like 'Jump over ther fence fer your life "I up and over ther fence in a jiffey. Her 'orse and me landed together ; then the brute slipped, and rolled over fair on top of Miss Dorothy, fer it wuz 'er, mates. Jist then past the fence went a mob o' wild 'orses bein' druv to ther paddocks. Me swag was trampled ter nuthin'. I felt fair sick when I seed the place where I'd been sleepin' all cut up with their 'oofs. In a while up rides the lawyer chap and some others, and 'c kneels by Miss Dorothy and sez, wild like- 'She's dead! She's dead!' "She jist opened 'er pritty eyes, and sez 'No ; I'm all right ; I've only 'urt me foot.' Then she faints clean away. "The lawyer chap looks at me, and sez 'Wot did she do it fer? Galloping back, riskin' 'er life fer a drunken brute like 'im, wot no one cares a cus fer.' "I didn't say nuthin', mates — I jist couldn't." Hookey Ben paused, and for a miuute there was a dead silence. He sort of choked a bit and then spoke again. * * * "When they tuk 'er 'ome, mates I 'ung round fer a couple 'er days. Tom Bull, who grafts there, told me she 'ud bruk 'er ankle, and wanted ter see me. After some persuadin', 'cause I wanted to tell her she shouldn't 'er dun it, but felt nervous like, in I went. There she wuz lying, pritty as a pictur 5 . She smiled, and sez, so sweet 'I'm glad you wasn't 'urt, and that I got there in time.' "I was fair broke up, mates, and I up and told 'er she oughtn't 'er dun it, me bein' no account, and she says, 'I've been askin' about yer. Yer know I saved yer life, and it belongs ter me in a way. Will yer do somethin' for me? Promise me ter live straight, and do better with ther life I saved fer yer.' " 'I'd like ter,,' I sez ter 'er, 'ony nobudy cares.' "She looks at me straight, and says, soft, like a hangel, TBut I oare — do, fer my sake.' "Why, mates, wot could I say ter that ? "I sez I would try, and promised 'er ter go and see 'er this year, if I was

alive. That's where I've been. She 'ad on a pretty white dress, and she remembered me all right. 'I'm very pleased tar see yer,' she sez. 'And yer kep' yer promis', she sez. 'I'm proud of yer.' "She told me 'ow she's gom' ter Sydney ter-morrer, but she 'opes ter see me agin' Good-bye,' she sez, 'earty like, 'I'll never forget yer. Yer life wuz worth savin,' and she smiled agin , 'I yer all good luck, MR. Benson.'" ■* +■ * Theie wasn't much more to tell. "She shuk 'ands with me," said Hookey Ben proudly. He raised the right hand he had held so stiffly at his side all the time, and gazed at it as if it were a curiosity. "Three cheers fer MISTER Benson" shouted Joe jumping up and clapping him on the shoulder. The silent, deserted paddocks echoed and re-echoed with the cheering. — D. D., in Sydney "Sun."