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The Stranger

Working my way through timetables and calendars for the term, a phonecall from Joe led to an interesting conversation about the sea wall of demolished Pentridge goal bluestone walls that had been burial markers. Helen's uncle believed he'd seen Ned Kelly's marker on a walk but he couldn't find it again to show her. 
THE STRANGER 
My great grandmother, Harriet Spear, died when I was ten years old but I have fond memories of her sitting in front of our gas fire and telling 'family stories'.  She was very fond of saying 'There's bad in the best of us and good in the worst of us', and would always start my favorite story in this way.
The track was rough and uneven.  My great-grandmother in her schoolday dress, curly, unruly hair disciplined into neat, conforming plaits plodded on as her brothers walked impatiently ahead.   It took an hour to make the four mile walk from Sailor Falls to the school house.  Perhaps daydreaming, she allowed herself to fall behind and the distance between Harriet and her brothers widened.   As she began to run, misfortune struck, a heel from one of her shoes, a hand-me down, gave up its struggle with the hard bumpy bullock track and fell off.  She tried to call, but either they didn't hear or didn't want to.  She limped on, nothing else to do and finally sat on a rocky hillock.  
Oblivious to her surroundings, she began to sob, silently at first and then so loudly that she didn't hear the figure approach.  She looked up in surprise at the rider and unasked blurted out her predicament.  "I'll take you," were the only words he spoke and leaning from his saddle, in one swift movement, lifted her up behind him.  No more words passed between them until they arrived at the school.
"Here is where we part," said the stranger, stopping in a clearing partially hidden from the small school.  Placing her gently on the ground, the rider said softly, "Now when they tell you what a scoundrel Ned Kelly is, don't be believing everything you hear.  He is always ready to do a kindness.”   (Robyn Floyd, 1995)

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