29 August 1935

GETTING EVEN WITH THE PUBLICAN 

Cunning Plot That Went Astray

Billy Brown, the landlord of the Railway Hotel at a northern township, was noted for his generosity, and many a thirsty patron, temporarily short of cash, was asked to 'have one with the house.' 

But even his generosity had its limits, and eventually he was compelled to tell two local residents (Jones and Smith), who had teen 'ticking up' their drinks for some days, that he could not give them any more credit. 

Both Jones and Smith were fond of their beer, and they were very annoyed at being deprived of it. They both swore to get even with Brown, and for some days cast around for some means of doing so. They discussed all sorts of plans between themselves, for they were bosom pals, but there were objections to them all. 

Meanwhile, a hot spell had set in, and they were still on the black list, having been out of work for some time, and consequently unable to settle their score at the hotel. 

One evening, after a very hot day, Smith decided to stroll down to the station to see if he could pick up a paper which someone on the train that passed through in the afternoon might have thrown out, as travellers often did. As he entered the station the first person he saw was Brown, who was sitting on a tarpaulin reading the paper. Deciding that he couldn't ask Brown for a paper, Smith had a drink from the station water bag and strolled off again. 

Once he was out of Brown's sight, however, he quickened his pace, for his keen eyes had noticed the outlines of numerous barrels under the tarpaulin, and he knew quite well that Brown was keeping guard over them until the carrier arrived to cart them down to the hotel. 

Once clear of the station yard, Smith broke into a run and made straight for his pal's house. Luckily, Jones was at home, and in a few seconds Smith had told him of the plan he had evolved. Down to the carrier's raced Jones to inform him that Brown had got someone else to cart the barrels for him. 

The carrier was rather annoyed at losing the job, but accepted the statement without question. Grumbling a little, he unharnessed his horses and went inside to have his tea, as it was now getting late. 

Jones then re-joined Smith, and together they made their way in the falling darkness back to the station. They thought that Brown would soon get tired of waiting for the carrier and would go to find out what was keeping him. 

After nearly an hour's waiting, during which time it started to rain, the two conspirators got tired of watching Brown sitting under the station roof reading his paper by the light of the lamp. It was getting very damp under the bush which hid them, and they decided that they would have to resort to other and more effective means of removing Brown from his post. Jones thought of a scheme which was put into operation immediately. 

Leaving his pal to watch Brown, Jones took a short cut through the mallee growing around the station, and made a bee-line for the hotel. A few minutes later Brown was surprised to hear his wife calling him from the hotel. 

Thinking that something must be wrong, Brown raced homewards, while the crafty Smith murmured to himself, ''Jonesy imitated the old tart's squeak to perfection," and promptly scrambled on the platform to secure one of the barrels. He lifted the tarpaulin and quickly had one of the kegs on his shoulder. He was soon joined by Jones, who likewise seized a keg.

They immediately made for the bush paddock opposite the station, and proceeded to put distance behind them. They stumbled over stumps and wet bushes hit them in the face as they pushed on through the darkness, but they scarcely noticed them in their excitement. After they considered that they had reached a safe locality, they dumped their burdens on the ground, and made ready to tap them. 

'Strike a light while I find the bung,' said Smith, as his pal handed him a tap. Jones obliged with the light, and the glow of a match revealed to the horror-stricken pair with the word 'Molasses,' painted in white letters on the sides of the kegs. 

'The miserable old cow to fool a man like this,' gasped Jones, and Smith also expressed his opinion of Brown in language more forcible than polite. The bitterest of beer was as nought compared to their savage disappointment. Raging to themselves, they left the kegs in the bush and trudged to their respective homes, wet to the skin and disappointed beyond words. Both were too sick at heart to speak to one an other for the next few days. 

Jones, however, was fortunate enough to secure a few odd jobs at the wheat stacks during the next week, which made him financial once again. 

Remembering his drought-stricken pal, he visited him one afternoon and invited him to share a few beers with him. They hung around the hotel for a time until the bar was empty, and then entered and ordered their drinks. Brown was all smiles as he served them, but his customers appeared rather quiet. The conversation lagged for a time, but when the customers had just started on their fourth drink, Brown considered them fit enough to withstand the shock he was about to spring on them. 

With a quiet cough, he commenced — 'By the way. Did you fellows hear about the funny incident that occurred down at the station the other night?' 

'Can't say that I have,' murmured Jones, and Smith shook his head. 'Well. I'll tell you,' said Brown, his face breaking into a sarcastic smile. 'It was this way. The other night a load of molasses kegs turned up for me at the station, and a couple of senseless mugs lifted two of them while I was looking for the carrier. The poor fools thought it was beer, and the funny thing about it, it was!' 

Brown paused as he tossed a coin into the till. 'The funny thing about it was that it was beer. That's some of it you're drinking.' 

— 'Hardluck.'

'Dinny' 

Dinny had been invalided to Australia from the Far East, in a very neurasthenic condition, and when he resumed his duties as supervisor at the cable office in one of the capital cities, he showed, by his many peculiar actions that his nerves were still far from strong. 

His state of mind, perhaps, was not improved by the fact that the Great War was then being fought, and it was necessary to take precautions against sabotage. 

Arriving at the office one hot night — and the office in question was by no means a large one— he immediately rushed over to the wide open windows and closed them. When we asked him why he had shut the windows he replied, in hushed tones, 'Bombs!' 

It appeared that he had read some where that a make-shift bomb had gone off in close proximity to a cable office in Canada, Hence his precautions. I could never understand, however, what resistance a piece of glass could offer to the passage of a bomb. 

The cream of all the incidents in which Dinny figured, however, was one in which the local police force also took a part. One night he rushed excitedly into the office and, seizing the telephone, rang up the detective office. 

'My wife has asked me to report to you,' he agitatedly told the official at headquarters, 'that a man in our district is in the habit of frightening the local women by his peculiar actions, and they would like you to investigate the matter.' 

He then went on to describe the man, saying that he generally appeared fairly late at night, carried a bag, had a slight stoop, walked with a shuffling sort of gait, occasionally looking furtively around, and then would either break into a run or dart behind a bush on the common, which he used to cross. 

We heard nothing more for a few days until one night, when a policeman who often visited the office and who had heard Dinny's conversation over the telephone, came into the office simply shaking with mirth. 

When he subsided he told us that the detective office had sent a man out on the night of the report, who waited behind a bush on the common in question. 

His vigil was not a lengthy one, as half an hour after he arrived along came a pedestrian carrying a bag. It was his man without a doubt, for there was the peculiar shuffling gait, the sudden halts, and the frequent furtive looks behind him. 

The detective, rushed out and confronted the man, only to discover it was Dinny himself! He explained that he was nervous crossing the common, hence his peculiar actions, but he had never realised that the local bogeyman could possibly be himself. — 'Corstep.' 

Shock Too Much For Him

In the fifties of last century, a young couple settled on a mallee farm with their baby boy, aged about three years. One day the husband had to visit the nearest township, about 20 miles away, so left home on horseback soon after breakfast. 

The wife set about her work with a will, so that everything would be spic and span when he returned home that evening. While she worked she put the baby in a little shed which was called his play-house, and where he spent most of his time with his toys.

When she went to bring him in for his lunch, the baby was missing, and though she searched all the afternoon she could find no signs of him. It was just about dark when the husband re turned, tired and hungry from his long ride only to be met by his distracted wife, who collapsed in his arms as she tried to tell him that their baby was lost. 

Tired though he was, he saddled his horse once again and set off to search for the boy. All night and the next day the search continued, and soon everyone in the district was scouring the scrub. 

Days passed, and stretched into weeks, but no sign of the baby was ever found, and reluctantly the parents were forced to the conclusion hat he must have died, or been killed by wild dogs or some other animal. 

They never forgot him, however, and the picture was ever in their memory of his pretty baby face with its bright laughing eyes and dimpled cheeks. Twenty-two years later an old man lay on his death-bed. 

He seemed troubled as he gazed at the young man standing by his bedside, as if he wished to tell him something. When the young man asked him what he wished to say, he said, 'No, I can't tell you. When I am gone you will know every thing.' With that, he gave a shudder and was dead. 

When the old man's will was read it was found that he had left the young man everything, including his farm, which was a very rich one. He had also left a letter for him, which informed him that he was not the old man's son, as he had always believed. 

He had been found wandering in the bush 22 years before, and brought up by the old man as his son. The letter told him who his parents were and where they were to be found. It also said that he should go and see them as soon as he could. As proof of his identity he would find in a certain locked box, the key of which was in the letter the baby's clothes he had been wearing when he was found. 

As soon as possible the young man set off to find his parents. On his way to the little farm house he passed his father and spoke to him, telling him who he was. His father could not answer, and the young man went into the house and spoke to his mother. 

'Oh, it's our Jock,' she said, when he had told her who he was, and she threw her arms around him. When she released him, he turned to his father, who had followed him into the house. He was seated in a chair, but did not reply when spoken to. He was dead. The shock had proved too much for him. — E.H. 

An Equine Burglar

Shortly after tea one Sunday night a farmer and his family left home to attend church. When they returned they noticed nothing unusual about the homestead, except that the dog was barking. Thinking that perhaps he was hungry, the farmer fed him, and then went to bed. 

He had not been long in bed, how ever, before 'Old Bill' the rouseabout (who was extremely nervous) knocked on his door and informed him that he could hear strange noises in the cellar. 'I believe there's burglars down there,' he added. 

The farmer secured a Hurricane lamp and roused his two sons. They listened for a time in the rouseabout's room, but, being unable to hear anything, went back to bed under the impression that Old Bill had been drinking. But about midnight the old chap was nearly scared to death by the weird noises he could hear coming from the cellar, which was directly under his room. He again roused the household, and this time the farmer sent one of his sons for the police, while he went the kitchen to get his rifle. Accompanied by members of his family he went out into the yard, where to his consternation, he found that the trap door of the cellar had been broken down. There was now no doubt in the farmer's mind that there were robbers about. 

When the policeman arrived, he drew his revolver and shouted down the cellar, 'Who's there? Who's there? Come up or I'll fire.' But there was no response. The shouting of the constable at such an hour soon attracted a number of persons who lived in the vicinity. 

A ladder was procured and the officer slowly descended the steps. When he was halfway down the sound of a loud neigh could be plainly heard. With the aid of a torch, the constable discovered that the 'burglar' was a horse! 

While the family were at church the horse must have walked on to the trapdoor, which collapsed under its weight. The noise of the crash was probably what caused the dog to bark. 

The next problem which faced the farmer was how to get the house out of his prison— a difficult feat, especially with a stubborn horse. A ramp had to be dug, and it took the whole of next day before the horse was liberated.— A.D.

Was It A Smuggler's Lair? 

It must be nearly 40 years ago that a number of youths from Mount Gambier, of whom I was one, decided to spend a few days camping on the beach near Carpenter's Rocks. 

One afternoon most of us went along the each towards Lake Bonney. We had a football with us, and were kicking it as we walked along. 

After we had gone a mile or two we came to some cliffs, the sides of which were covered with a thick green creeper. One of the party kicked the ball among this creeper, and it took us some appreciable time to find it.

Just as it was recovered, one of the lads, who was a little further along he beach, sent up a shout and all hands rushed towards him. Behind the dense growth, where he had been searching, he had found the mouth of a cave. 

The more daring of the party decided to explore it, but, as matches were the only source of a light, it was finally agreed to wait till better lighting facilities could be procured. 

Next day we went properly equipped, and made a remarkable discovery. At the end of the cave were found several large casks, which at one time had evidently contained rum. Stacked on top of them were a number of short, thick boxes of all kinds of produce. The discovery rather alarmed some of the younger lads, who lost no time in getting out of the cave. 

There was, however, no real cause for alarm, as it was apparent, on closer examination, that all the contents of the boxes were useless, having been damaged by salt water. 

The cave also had the appearance of not having been used for years. I have often wondered how those casks and boxes got there. Did we accidentally stumble upon an old smugglers' lair of the early days of the State, or were those packages stowed there from some early wreck and afterwards forgotten? — M.M. 

Some Prize

In order to increase the interest of her pupils in their work, a teacher in a small country school offered a prize to the child who gained the highest number of marks at the quarterly examination. 

Competition was keen, as each child was determined to secure the coveted honor. There was much speculation among the children as to what the prize would be. 

Finally, the examination was over, and the children waited eagerly to hear who had won it. They were all attention when the marks were announced, and there was much excitement when a girl, about ten years old, was called forward to receive the reward for her diligence. 

One can easily imagine her disappointment, however, when she was handed a bunch of turnips from the school garden, more especially as she had supplied the seeds from which they were grown in the first place. 

— 'Peggotty.'