Robbery Under Arms - Rolf Boldrewood (most important books of all time .TXT) š
- Author: Rolf Boldrewood
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I got up and steadied myself. āI thank you with all my heart, Mr. āø»,ā I said. āIām not much of a talker, but youāll see, youāll see; thatās the best proof. The fools, do they think I want to come back here? I wish some of them had a year of it.ā
As soon as there was a chance of my going out, I had been allowed to āgrow,ā as they call it in there. That is, to leave off having my face scraped every morning by the prison barber with his razor, that was sometimes sharp and more times rough enough to rasp the skin off you, particularly if it was a cold morning. My hair was let alone, too. My clothesā āthe suit I was taken in twelve years agoā āhad been washed and cleaned and folded up, and put away and numbered in a room with a lot of others. I remember Iād got āem new just before I started away from the Hollow. They was brought to me, and very well they looked, too. I never had a suit that lasted that long before.
That minds me of a yarn I heard at Jonathan Barnesās one day. There was a young chap that they used to call āLiverpool Jackā about then. He was a free kind of fellow, and good-looking, and they all took to him. He went away rather sudden, and they heard nothing of him for about three years. Then he came back, and as it was the busy season old Jonathan put him on, and gave him work. It was low water with him, and he seemed glad to get a job.
When the old man came in he says, āWho do you think came up the road today?ā āLiverpool Jack. He looked rather down on his luck, so I gave him a job to mend up the barn. Heās a handy fellow. I wonder he doesnāt save more money. Heās a careful chap, too.ā
āCareful,ā says Maddie. āHow do ye make that out?ā
āWhy,ā says Jonathan, āIām dashed if he aināt got the same suit of clothes on he had when he was here three years ago.ā
The old man didnāt tumble, but both the girls burst out laughing. Heād been in the jug all the time!
I dressed myself in my own clothesā āhow strange it seemedā āeven to the boots, and then I looked in the glass. I hadnāt done that lately. I regularly started back; I didnāt know myself; I came into prison a big, stout, brown-haired chap, full of life, and able to jump over a dray and bullocks almost. I did once jump clean over a pair of polers for a lark.
And how was I going out? A man with a set kind of face, neither one thing nor the other, as if he couldnāt be glad or sorry, with a fixed staring look about the eyes, a half-yellowish skin, with a lot of wrinkles in it, particularly about the eyes, and gray hair. Big streaks of gray in the hair of the head, and as for my beard it was whiteā āwhite. I looked like an old man, and walked like one. What was the use of my going out at all?
When I went outside the walls by a small gate the head gaoler shook hands with me. āYouāre a free man now, Dick,ā he says, āand remember thisā āno man can touch you. No man has the right to pull you up or lay a finger on you. Youāre as independent as the best gentleman in the land so long as you keep straight. Remember that. I see thereās a friend waiting for you.ā
Sure enough there was a man that I knew, and that lived near Rocky Flat. He was a quiet, steady-going sort of farmer, and never would have no truck with us in our flash times. He was driving a springcart, with a good sort of horse in it.
āCome along with me, Dick,ā says he. āIām going your way, and I promised George Storefield Iād call and give you a lift home. Iām glad to see you out again, and thereās a few more round Rocky Flat thatās the same.ā
We had a long driveā āmany a mile to go before we were near home. I couldnāt talk; I didnāt know what to say, for one thing. I could only feel as if I was being driven along the road to heaven after coming from the other place. I couldnāt help wondering whether it was possible that I was a free man going back to life and friends and happiness. Was it possible? Could I ever be happy again? Surely it must be a dream that would all melt away, and Iād wake up as Iād done hundreds of times and find myself on the floor of the cell, with the bare walls all round me.
When we got nearer the old place I began to feel that queer and strange that I didnāt know which way to look. It was coming on for spring, and thereād been a middling
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