The Geological Spieler Page #2

"The Geological Spieler" by Henry Lawson is a collection of poems and stories that reflect the rugged Australian landscape and the experiences of its people. Lawson, recognized for his unique voice in Australian literature, weaves themes of identity, struggle, and resilience into his writing, often drawing on the natural environment and the hardships of life in the outback. The work captures both the beauty and challenges of the Australian experience, highlighting Lawson's deep connection to the land and his keen observance of its cultural narratives.

• Short story

								

rather the results of such disturbances, have been and are the cause of
the greatest trouble to geologists--endless errors and controversy. You
see we must study the country, not as it appears now, but as it
would appear had the natural geological growth been left to mature
undisturbed; we must restore and reconstruct such disorganized portions
of the mineral kingdom, if you understand me.”

The boss said he understood.

Steelman found an opportunity to wink sharply and severely at Smith, who
had been careless enough to allow his features to relapse into a vacant
grin.

“It is generally known even amongst the ignorant that rock grows--grows
from the outside--but the rock here, a specimen of which I hold in
my hand, is now in the process of decomposition; to be plain it is
rotting--in an advanced stage of decomposition--so much so that you are
not able to identify it with any geological period or formation, even as
you may not be able to identify any other extremely decomposed body.”

The boss blinked and knitted his brow, but had the presence of mind to
say: “Just so.”

“Had the rock on that cutting been healthy--been alive, as it were--you
would have had your work cut out; but it is dead and has been dead
for ages perhaps. You find less trouble in working it than you would
ordinary clay or sand, or even gravel, which formations together are
really rock in embryo--before birth as it were.”

The boss's brow cleared.

“The country round here is simply rotting down--simply rotting down.”

He removed his spectacles, wiped them, and wiped his face; then his
attention seemed to be attracted by some stones at his feet. He picked
one up and examined it.

“I shouldn't wonder,” he mused, absently, “I shouldn't wonder if there
is alluvial gold in some of these creeks and gullies, perhaps tin or
even silver, quite probably antimony.”

The boss seemed interested.

“Can you tell me if there is any place in this neighbourhood where I
could get accommodation for myself and my servant for a day or two?”
 asked Steelman presently. “I should very much like to break my journey
here.”

“Well, no,” said the boss. “I can't say I do--I don't know of any place
nearer than Pahiatua, and that's seven miles from here.”'

“I know that,” said Steelman reflectively, “but I fully expected to have
found a house of accommodation of some sort on the way, else I would
have gone on in the van.'

“Well,” said the boss. “If you like to camp with us for to night, at
least, and don't mind roughing it, you'll be welcome, I'm sure.”

“If I was sure that I would not be putting you to any trouble, or
interfering in any way with your domestic economy---”

“No trouble at all,” interrupted the boss. “The boys will be only too
glad, and there's an empty whare where you can sleep. Better stay. It's
going to be a rough night.”

After tea Steelman entertained the boss and a few of the more thoughtful
members of the party with short chatty lectures on geology and other
subjects.

In the meantime Smith, in another part of the camp, gave selections on a
tin whistle, sang a song or two, contributed, in his turn, to the sailor
yarns, and ensured his popularity for several nights at least. After
several draughts of something that was poured out of a demijohn into a
pint-pot, his tongue became loosened, and he expressed an opinion that
geology was all bosh, and said if he had half his employer's money he'd
be dashed if he would go rooting round in the mud like a blessed old
ant-eater; he also irreverently referred to his learned boss as “Old
Rocks” over there. He had a pretty easy billet of it though, he said,
taking it all round, when the weather was fine; he got a couple of
notes a week and all expenses paid, and the money was sure; he was only
required to look after the luggage and arrange for accommodation, grub
out a chunk of rock now and then, and (what perhaps was the most irksome
of his duties) he had to appear interested in old rocks and clay.

Towards midnight Steelman and Smith retired to the unoccupied whare
which had been shown them, Smith carrying a bundle of bags, blankets,
and rugs, which had been placed at their disposal by their good-natured
hosts. Smith lit a candle and proceeded to make the beds. Steelman sat
down, removed his specs and scientific expression, placed the glasses
carefully on a ledge close at hand, took a book from his bag, and
commenced to read. The volume was a cheap copy of Jules Verne's Journey
to the Centre of the Earth. A little later there was a knock at
the door. Steelman hastily resumed the spectacles, together with the
scientific expression, took a note-book from his pocket, opened it on
the table, and said, “Come in.” One of the chaps appeared with a billy
of hot coffee, two pint-pots, and some cake. He said he thought you
chaps might like a drop of coffee before you turned in, and the boys
had forgot to ask you to wait for it down in the camp. He also wanted
to know whether Mr Stoneleigh and his man would be all right and quite
comfortable for the night, and whether they had blankets enough. There
was some wood at the back of the whare and they could light a fire if
they liked.

Mr Stoneleigh expressed his thanks and his appreciation of the kindness
shown him and his servant. He was extremely sorry to give them any
trouble.

The navvy, a serious man, who respected genius or intellect in any shape
or form, said that it was no trouble at all, the camp was very dull
and the boys were always glad to have someone come round. Then, after
a brief comparison of opinions concerning the probable duration of the
weather which had arrived, they bade each other good night, and the
darkness swallowed the serious man.

Steelman turned into the top bunk on one side and Smith took the lower
on the other. Steelman had the candle by his bunk, as usual; he lit his
pipe for a final puff before going to sleep, and held the light up for a
moment so as to give Smith the full benefit of a solemn, uncompromising
wink. The wink was silently applauded and dutifully returned by Smith.
Then Steelman blew out the light, lay back, and puffed at his pipe for
a while. Presently he chuckled, and the chuckle was echoed by Smith; by
and by Steelman chuckled once more, and then Smith chuckled again. There
was silence in the darkness, and after a bit Smith chuckled twice. Then
Steelman said:

“For God's sake give her a rest, Smith, and give a man a show to get
some sleep.”

Then the silence in the darkness remained unbroken.

The invitation was extended next day, and Steelman sent Smith on to see
that his baggage was safe. Smith stayed out of sight for two or three
hours, and then returned and reported all well.

They stayed on for several days. After breakfast and when the men were
going to work Steelman and Smith would go out along the line with the
black bag and poke round amongst the “layers and stratas” in sight of
the works for a while, as an evidence of good faith; then they'd drift
off casually into the bush, camp in a retired and sheltered spot, and
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