The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1901-08-25

brothers, all troubled about him, as he
could easily picture to himself. Then
there was the red-headed barmafd Of the
Metropolitan and her cold-blooded cal
culating mother in(Woolloomooloo; and
last, but not least, as is said, there was
Bah Anderson, about whom he dreamed
often enough.
Bah was witty and beautiful, sweet as
a flower, and gentle as a ring tailed pos
sum. The fra GRANGE of the wattle-bloom,
the sinuous grace of the wattle-sapling
itself, were hers. Often in the dark
nights, when the western land breeZes
brought the gum-leaVes down upon him
as he doZed in some eXtemporized gunyah
on the roadside, would ne feel in fancy
| the sweet, warm breath Of Bah Anderson
upon his sun-fanned cheek, and hear the
soft voice, so full of music and tender
pathos, whispering Ned" But, God
save him. he was NED no longer. That
was another and past life. He was now
Bob Edwards, the unkempt tramp, hump
ing his bluey along the Sunset Track,
stunning respectable folk, and all that
was theirs, and mixing with the human
f1otsam that is forever floating about
these outskirting fringes of civilization.
How many prayers go up to heaven In
vain from this little planet alone? That
broken-nearted mother in the little home
stead at Bugerawa believed in God and
went to Him, the All-Knowing, for aid.
If her first-born, now long-lost. were
lying dead at the bottom of some treach-
erous mine-shaft in the bush, or in the
dark waters of some gruesome, she-oak-
lined billabOng, would the mystery be dis
closed, and soon? For a human heart,
and a mothers at that can be over
wrought and strained. Might the way
ward one, if still in life, be held clear
from the dangers of the world, and
turned home again to where he was born
| fa ojl1c Of
Bugerawa? But there was never re-
spouse, encouragement nor hope.
The Wanderer often began writing
letter to his mother, one of his sisters,
or one of his sweethe arts, but always
tore the thing up before it had been well
started. Thus they never heard from
MIN, and by degrees, strange as it may
seem, he almost forgot that he had any
relatives at all
In the shearing. season he was always
to be found in one or other of the wool
sheds in the Riverina; shearing over, he
knocked down mis- cheque like a man at
some Landing shanty on the
Murray flats, and then sundowned his
way along to Western Victoria to make
another cheque during the potato-digging
season. There We're odd jobs to be picked
up on the way to and fro, such as reap
ing or hay-making in the farm countries,
or branding" among the cattle stations
Each year was made up in this way,
and in course of time Bob came to be a.
well known character on the roads for
his superior education and sound bush
instinct put him somewhat above the
ordinary run of human waIlaby-trackers
Not, indeed, that he was the only edu-
Gated man whom misfortune or circum-
stances had brought down to this outcast
condition.
Once at Deniliquin before starting to
blew his just-earned cheque, Bob Ed
wards went into a BARRIERS shop to set
his chin and hair back at scratch by
way of beginning a new year for them.
Here he saw himself in the glass, the first
time for some years. Like the brigand-
burglar in the comic opera, who bolts
when ne comes across himself in the
mirror, Bob nearly ran away at the
sight of his own wild appearance. and the
traces of grayness alarmed him. The in
cldent afforded him much food for re.
flect.on. He thought of the never-ending
turmoil of tramping up and down the
back blocks for mis- precarious living.
year in and year out. 1t was all like the
swing of the pendulum of the old clock
on the stairs;
For ever, never;
Never, for ever
Could he pluck up courage enough to
go home to his people at Bugerawa?
Hardly yet But he would half way for
start.
Instead Of making for Corowa. or
Moama he cut his way back bv wav of
Jer1derie and Narrandera to Wagga
Wagga, and went through by train to the
Cornstalk metropolis Arrived in Red
fern he made no delay in pushing across
Sydney to Woollahra Things had
changed during the twenty years of his
absence from the salubrious city. Pad
docks that he had known and walked
over with Bah Anderson were now COW
cred with Single-brick terraces those
combinations of rabbit-hutches in which
the ouoyant young clerks of the prosper
Gus city smoked their half-a-crown
hookahs on the balconies of after
Moons, after knocking off work at 4. an0
lived like Eastern princes in a tin-pot
sort of way, till the houses began to
crumble down.
With his new and strange sensations
full upon him, Bob Edwards lost his head
ever so little, and made a straight line
Tor koolabbin, the Andersonian home
Passing down the Ocean Road. that leads
TO Double Bay, he soon came upon a
surprise. He found himself suddenly face
to face with Bah Anderson!
she was as fresh and young and beau-
tlful as of old, and the returned wander
er felt the degradation of his nosition
knowing how old and rugged he had
grown through his hardships in the busT,
BaD knew him not and When he st0DDed
ana attempted to speak to her she walked
hurriedly away. In his desperate case he
followed, but the girl at last made .
bolt OF it, and left him dazed and amazed
in the roadway
From this point Bob made his wav m
sydney, and hunted up one of his ola
cnums among the Castlereagh street
chambers. There he learned all the news
Bah Anderson had got married A wear
after he left Sydney, and her eldest
daughter had lately been drought out,
and duly introduced at Governments
mouse. The red-haired barmaid had mar
RED fat publican out at Ko-
garah and he would probably see
his old flames double too if he TOOK
the trouble to run out Georges river
way, Tor she also had grOWn-up children
ana now you will meet at regular Pc
TlodS sad-eyed sundowner humping his
pleuY from the Deniliquin side, across
the dusty plains to Warrnambool and hack
ShearlnS on the RiVerna and p0tato-
digging in the Victorian Tipperary are
tEe TWO occupations of his life lying at
etner end of the lonely bush track, up
and down which he tramps each wear
with the regularity of a pendulum.
Lake many another. he is wandering I'D
and down the world, with no place where
on to lay bis head and, like 80 per cent OF
the strange class to which he now per
manently belongs he will probably end up
one day by being hanged for murder
committed by somebody else in the bush
or be found dead in the dry bed Of some
clustering billabong, where the rabbits
are plentiful and the shanty keepers
along the wallaby are Stonyhearted.
Till then he will continue his mon1t-
to. Warrnambool. from WarrnannbooI to
D6nlflQuin - backwards ard fAryyo "a G