this. He seemed really crazy.
“It’s going again,” he said.
“Can’t you hear it? It’s louder than
“It ain’t,” I answered. “It ain’t worth
ever?—tum-te-te-tum, tum-te-te-tum—”
spending the water on the steam for that lowIn a flash I understood. I was pushing
grade ore, and Dan wouldn’t start her without him back into the tent, and I could feel his orders.”
heart beating hard against my hand, and I I was watching him, and knew he remembered what his doctor had said.
didn’t mean our battery.
“Davie, old man,” I said, “it’s the
“You know what I mean,” he said.
beating of your own heart you’ve been hearing
All-Story Weekly
6
all the time.”
There was an excited crowd round the
I should never have said it. I’ll always
grave where, a few feel below the subsoil, the feel I killed him, for he just slipped his hand diggers had struck quartz, and their shovels under his shirt to feel for himself, tried to had scraped the gold till it shone.
smile, and then dropped down dead at my feet.
“Boys,” I said, “I take possession of
His battery had stopped for good.
this for the heirs of David Baird.”
We buried him next day. I picked out
We didn’t bury him there, of course,
the grave where we ended our last walk.
but on top of a big ironstone hill, with a I thought it all out, the weak heart that twisted tree for his monument, where his wife raced with excitement or exertion, the weak and daughters came later and heard the
heart that was the plucky heart, that hung on batteries of the new mine—the Beating Heart to what it wanted.
Mine—and I fancied Davie himself was there We made a coffin out of packing listening, too.
cases, and spread over it our only flag, the Some of the boys tried to jump the
Australian red ensign with the Southern Cross, claim on priority, but the warden at
and six men carried him slowly through the Coolgardie upheld me. Digging a grave was bush.
mining, and besides I swore I pegged it out As we came near the grave I heard
first.
voices, and saw men running and picking up I showed my pegs to prove it—jam-sticks as they ran. The bearers began to get tins stuck there in the night when I crawled fidgety. A man passed saying they had struck round like a black feller to do it, to save the a new reef, richer than the Last Look.
Beating Heart for my old mate’s family.
Luck by J Page 2
