pocketbook and glanced at the portrait of a woman and child and at the date of a post-office order receipt.
“Smith,” said Steelman, “we’re two honest, ignorant, green coves; hard-working chaps from the bush.”
“Yes.”
“It doesn’t matter whether we are or not—we are as far as the world is concerned. Now we’ve grafted like bullocks, in heat and wet, for six months, and made a hundred and fifty, and come down to have a bit of a holiday before going back to bullock for another six months or a year. Isn’t that so, Smith?”
“Yes.”
“You could take your oath on it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter if it is so or not—it is so, so far as the world is concerned. Now we’ve paid our way straight. We’ve always been pretty straight anyway, even if we are a pair of vagabonds, and I don’t half like this new business; but it had to be done. If I hadn’t taken down that sharper you’d have lost confidence in me and wouldn’t have been able to mask your feelings, and I’d have had to stoush you. We’re two hard-working, innocent bushies, down for an innocent spree, and we run against a cold-blooded professional sharper, a paltry sneak and a coward, who’s got neither the brains nor the pluck to work in the station of life he togs himself for. He tries to do us out of our hard-earned little hundred and fifty —no matter whether we had it or not—and I’m obliged to take him down. Serve him right for a crawler. You haven’t the least idea what I’m
