Issachar Beans.

Evening Post, Volume LXVII, Issue 55, 5 March 1904, Page 10

Issachar Beans.

If ever bush and backbtock spoke in a man, it wns my visitor. He wne bearded and bronzed, lanky and tousled. On his head was a slouch h*t, with tho brim turned down over his foco ; & margin of blue Crimea shirt bulged out below his waistcoat; his collar was a discoloured remnant, and his tie was a flaring red. I looked at him with some curiosity, for visitors of his kind were not frequent in my office. Was I the boss? I was. Then he had a bit of a note for mo from Jus boss up at .the station. The note, forthcoming from the inside of his ahirt, proved to be an order on mo for a few pounds in favour of tho bearer, John Wing, htockman, Mulga Downs Station. In reply to tho question whether he was tho John Wing so mentioned, the assurance was given that he was, and that having helped to drove a mob of cattlo down south for tho boss, ho had taken train on to Melbourne for a spell, and to have a look round before going back. Mjr visitor informed me he had never been ' in Melbourne before. Of course, he had an idea it was a good bit bigger than Cunnnmulla or AValgott, but ho had not thought to see such a tremendous place, with all them shops <and big stouo buildings. It was a puazling sort of a place for a buahnuvn, and ho thought' it was a pity there wasn't more trees like j but he reckoned Bourke-street was about we fine a show as a man could want to see. It certainly bout anything he'd' como across, ■ nnd he didn't suppose as thore Ay* B anything finer anywhere. ■ ' No, ho didn't drink, though he smoked. He'd heatd about them spielers nnd take-, downs, and, wasn't going to be had, not him. Ite'd 'got his money tied safe, and mostly kept his hand in his pocket for feor of being robbed. He^hadu't been inside a bar, and! didn't intend to, for he'd heard as them barmaids waR xeg'lnr enticing, and he didn't mean to blue bis stuff, not by no manner of means. Ho might como from the backblocks, but h<t Wasn't green enough for that. Speaking more confidentially, he hinted that he wua getting full of Melbourne. He hadn't a mate, .and found it a bit lonely going about by himself ; besides ■which the pavement played up with his feet. Ho wasn't Used to much walking when he was at home, and he couldn't stand it. ne though he'd be off again in a. 'day or two. After «11, there was worse places than the old station. Ho didn't think much of tho Melbourne horses — showy-looking, but «oft as buttor. He wished I could sec some of the cattle they had up at Mulga Downs ; why, ho hadn't Keen a. single moke down here hod care to take cattle mustering or cutting out — 'not. one. 4Tes ; he'd lived among horses all his life. He fancied himself a bit at riding, ' /oi hVd done a lot of breaking-in, and

they had borne wie liuckcin up hU \w>y. twine of tlusiu Mulga. »cnibbcrs \m\h a tenor. Thej'd buck ,\ou oil tin co-corner-ed, and thoii suit, ealmg you. Wiiut he'd Noen ol hui.soa aud brumbies wouUl astonish you. it avils a, wonder ho luul nut been killed long ,tgo. That ionniuli.il him. ihe boss told him if ho saw ni') ho u'.im to ba huiu and tell mo about- IsekK.liui' Deans. Now if 1 cnnul | to hear about him • 1 1 know my fnuml, "tlio bo.-s," and his littlo ways. So 1 planted my bus.li friend in a chair, bade him fill his pipe, and pro l^uvd lo listen. "WVU, boss, lssuchar Beans was a colt up our way. Ho got that namo from being called after a cocky whoro ho was foaled. 1 think it was tlio old man's Milo givo him tho name, thinking it would plenso the old chap, but 1 duiiiio' whether it did or not. Anywoy that wns his iuuuu, aud sometimes they called him lisa-char, aud sometimes ls&y, und bouictimcs just plain Beans. "Soon after tho colt was foaled it lost its dam, and tho old woman took it in hand and fed it with a liottle. It did mighty well too that way, und gicw up splendid. It was a sight to m;o tlml. thuiu long-legged coit prancing lound the kitchen atter the old. woman, waning lor tucker; he was more like ono ol tho j family thnn an outsider, and mado himself at home anywhere in tho house. Thu old woman grow mighty fond of him, too. Not having no iamily of her own, it seemucl «s if lasachar liiled a gap liko. And as ho grow up he got more and moro home-like. Hod drop into tho kitchen or Iho skillion naid mp tho sugar, or tho soup, or a bit of candk 1 , or anything eatable that was about, njid if the old woman was baking hod havo a lick all round, and clatter about moro like a son thnn a four-legged quadiupide. "Tho way he filled out waa surprisin*. j In no time at all he was moro than half growed. I didn't think him no beauty myself ; for all that old mother Buaus waa so fond of him. Ho was a bit mixed in colour, running mostly to brown, but with a streak of white on tlio barrel and legs, and I think he had the biggest head aud the longest nook of any coit I ever knew. He was a rum 'un, 1 can tell you. "Well, boss, the old man didn't tako, to the&o goings-on much. Whenever ho went into tho kitchen to got something there was lssachar making himself at home, and filling un the place. He was «. cranky sort of au old chap, and he got that way that no sooner did' ho catch sight of the colt than hod make a crack at him with his whip, and dear him out. So theie | wasn't much love lost between 'em, I "As lssachar grew up, the old woman learnt him to help cartin' firewoou.. She'd harness him up with a light cart, and walk ahead picking up sticks, and Issachar 'd follow, waggin' his tail for joy, and laf- i ting all over. Hod do any amount of wotk that way, ho loved the old woman so, and pull a reg'lar good load. But if the old man tried to drive him, it was another thing altogether. "Tho old feller used to wear a pair of Wellitig'tuns, and as soon ns Isnuchar caught sight of thorn he'd just stop dead in his tracks, and nobody could get a ; move out of him. Nothing would make him work unless tho old woman was there. Then ha was on his best behaviour, for he loved hor deep nnd true. Tho old man couldn't do nothin' with him, and once wlieu he was himnuV into him, Issachar got his teeth into the slack of his breeches and hold him there whilo ho kicked him dreadful. So the old man was a bit careful after that, and never tried to drivo him ogajn for a long time. • ' "Ono day he gets a hidea into his head, and noxt morning he goes down to whens the colt wns, with tho old woman's )>elticut a-hiding his moles and Wellin tuns. Up comes Issachar, and the old man puts him into tho cart, nnd away they go, tho old covo laffln to think how ho was foolin' tho colt. Ho kept up tho same gnmo every time he wanted lssachar lo work— gust shoved on his wife's pctticut and spoko sort of falsetty. "Thon he began to take liberties beforo long. Directly he'd got the horso movin' lied hist tho petticut up and rattlo off ahead at a tremonjus rato. You sco, captain, ho didn't caro for tho horse's feelings a bit, so long as ho got him to work, lssacliar would lolksr, rollin' his eyes and rog'larry bustin' hisself to keep up. "Though he wns only a young 'un, something told him it wasn't a natural thing. It scomod to him there must be ■something wrong ( somewhere, though whero it was ho couldn't tell, blew you, for ho wasn't what you might 'cnll clever, only just a lovin' young thing. Anyway, ho got rog'lar down in tho mouth about it. He used to go moping in" corners, as though ho was trying to mnko out the rights of the thing, nnd I never saw a horso look so moulty nnd off colour. TJicro was something wrong Bomewhore, I ho knew, but what it was waa too much for him. "Ono day ho was fotlowin' tho old man in tho cart, down in the mouth a 9 usual, whon an idea got old of him. There in front was the old woman's petticnt whnt ho knowed and loved so well, niul he just sidles up to it and stretches out his ! long nock and reaches for it with his teeth, and rip! it goes all tho way down. "Well, captain, bo Aook a glhnpso underneath, nnd ho saw the old man's moles and 'Wellin'tuns,' and ho knew he'd been fooled. It was rough on him,- but ho didn't do much consid'rin. He only kicked tho old man in tho head ; then ho gave a melancholy kind of smilo, like as if his 'urt wns broke; and rolled over on top of the old man." — David G. Folk, in tho Australasian.