1915 Read Online Free

of produce, by the dreadnought power of Suffolk Punch, Clydesdale and Percheron — yet persisting.
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    â€œWhat was biting old Foxy?” asked Billy as they left for town. Walter shrugged, then tapped his forehead: but felt cowardly for doing so.
    Billy found his mates in the back bar wedged tight among a show crowd that had long since abandoned the show.
    â€œWho’s the young ’un?” asked the elder Reid. He extended a forge-hammered hand. “Blacky and Ned,” explained Billy as one and then the other took delight in crushing Walter’s fingers. Blacky was aged thirty, with a face of intense black stubble and caterpillar-like eyebrows. His younger brother was also black-haired, but somehow the shade was unremarkable.
    â€œDrink up,” said Blacky. He raised his glass in a toast to nothing in particular and tipped back his head.
    After the third beer Walter felt that he understood a great many things. The back bar with its cream-painted walls and its grey kangaroo dog asleep in the corner under a Beck’s Beer placard (“With horse in check, They called for Beck’s …”), this seemed the pleasantest place in the world.
    Soon after five Blacky drained his beer. “I’ll see you fellows back here in half an hour.”
    â€œHave one for me,” sniggered Ned.
    â€œWhere’s he going?” asked Walter, surprised that anyone would want to let this pleasant occasion slide. Blacky jammed a wide hat on his head and winked at the barmaid.
    â€œOff for some horizontal refreshment,” said Ned as his brother shouldered his way out.
    â€œWe’ll smoke out Eddie and then head for home,” Billy nodded to Walter. “I don’t want to be blamed by your dad.”
    â€œStill a nipper, eh?” said Ned, dragging a damp belch from his hidden chest. Walter pumped his hand in the rediscovered glow of the last beer. “Very pleased to have met you,” he gushed, “you and your brother. Two of the nicest blokes I’ve ever met.”
    â€œWe’re all right, I s’pose,” Ned responded. With a barely nodded “Good-on-you, mate,” to Billy he switched to another group of drinkers.
    Walter stood in the grass at the rear of the hotel, his head tipped back. Looking at the stars he thought: Yes, the universe is one complete whole, and I’m part of it. He sniffed dust in the frosty air and laughed companionably to himself as pleasant thoughts spread through the cold night. Friends! That was one thought. And women! He remembered the barmaid’s eyes.
    â€œWhat do you think of the Reids?” he called to Billy.
    â€œWhat did you think of ’em?” They were passing the gloomy stand of pines near the racecourse where a swagman had recently been murdered.
    â€œThey’re all right.”
    â€œNed?”
    â€œI liked his brother better.”
    â€œBlacky won’t take nonsense from no-one.” A light flickered far back in the pines, though each pretended not to notice. “He’s showed me a thing or two.”
    â€œAbout where he went tonight?”
    â€œThe brothel?”
    â€œYes,” Walter shaped the word for himself, “the brothel.”
    â€œNah,” but that was a lie.
    Road and railway ran together, and a goods train drew alongside, chuffing and clattering, making the horses restless. At the rise above the creek they looked back on the faint lights of town: a column of smoke at the railway yards suddenly lit by sparks, a lantern faint as a star on a hillside. Then the road took another turn and they were in their own country. Walter climbed down several times to relieve himself, the reins looped over his arm. Once Peapod took off into the darkness without him, and Billy galloped away to fetch her back. Overhead the stars seemed thicker than anywhere.
    They parted at the ten-mile.
    â€œSee you sometime,” said Billy. “I’ve got to go down to Forbes