Over the Sliprails | Page 7

a climax, slipping a glance warily, once or twice, out of the tail of his eye through the ferns, low down.
"There never was a fortune made that wasn't made by chancing it."
He nudged Smith to come to the point. Presently Smith asked, sulkily:
"Well, what was he saying?"
"I thought I told you! He says he's behind the scenes in this gold boom, and, if he had a hundred pounds ready cash to-morrow, he'd make three of it before Saturday. He said he could put one-fifty to one-fifty."
"And isn't he worth three hundred?"
"Didn't I tell you," demanded Steelman, with an impatient ring, and speaking rapidly, "that he lost his mail in the wreck of the `Tasman'? You know she went down the day before yesterday, and the divers haven't got at the mails yet."
"Yes. . . . But why doesn't he wire to Sydney for some stuff?"
"I'm ----! Well, I suppose I'll have to have patience with a born natural. Look here, Smith, the fact of the matter is that he's a sort of black-sheep -- sent out on the remittance system, if the truth is known, and with letters of introduction to some big-bugs out here -- that explains how he gets to know these wire-pullers behind the boom. His people have probably got the quarterly allowance business fixed hard and tight with a bank or a lawyer in Sydney; and there'll have to be enquiries about the lost `draft' (as he calls a cheque) and a letter or maybe a cable home to England; and it might take weeks."
"Yes," said Smith, hesitatingly. "That all sounds right enough. But" -- with an inspiration -- "why don't he go to one of these big-bug boomsters he knows -- that he got letters of introduction to -- and get him to fix him up?"
"Oh, Lord!" exclaimed Steelman, hopelessly. "Listen to him! Can't you see that they're the last men he wants to let into his game? Why, he wants to use THEM! They're the mugs as far as he is concerned!"
"Oh -- I see!" said Smith, after hesitating, and rather slowly -- as if he hadn't quite finished seeing yet.
Steelman glanced furtively at the fern-screen, and nudged Smith again.
"He said if he had three hundred, he'd double it by Saturday?"
"That's what he said," replied Steelman, seeming by his tone to be losing interest in the conversation.
"And . . . well, if he had a hundred he could double that, I suppose."
"Yes. What are you driving at now?"
"If he had twenty ----"
"Oh, God! I'm sick of you, Smith. What the ----!"
"Hold on. Let me finish. I was only going to say that I'm willing to put up a fiver, and you put up another fiver, and if he doubles that for us then we can talk about standing in with him with a hundred -- provided he can show his hundred."
After some snarling Steelman said: "Well, I'll try him! Now are you satisfied?" . . .
"He's moved off now," he added in a whisper; "but stay here and talk a bit longer."
Passing through the hall they saw Gentleman Sharper standing carelessly by the door of the private bar. He jerked his head in the direction of drinks. Steelman accepted the invitation -- Smith passed on. Steelman took the opportunity to whisper to the Sharper -- "I've been talking that over with my mate, and ----"
"Come for a stroll," suggested the professional.
"I don't mind," said Steelman.
"Have a cigar?" and they passed out.
When they returned Steelman went straight to the room he occupied with Smith.
"How much stuff have we got, Smith?"
"Nine pounds seventeen and threepence."
Steelman gave an exclamation of disapproval with that state of financial affairs. He thought a second. "I know the barman here, and I think he knows me. I'll chew his lug for a bob or may be a quid."
Twenty minutes later he went to Gentleman Sharper's room with ten pounds -- in very dirty Bank of New Zealand notes -- such as those with which bush contractors pay their men.
Two mornings later the sharper suggested a stroll. Steelman went with him, with a face carefully made up to hear the worst.
After walking a hundred yards in a silence which might have been ominous -- and was certainly pregnant -- the sharper said:
"Well . . . I tried the water."
"Yes!" said Steelman in a nervous tone. "And how did you find it?"
"Just as warm as I thought. Warm for a big splash."
"How? Did you lose the ten quid?"
"Lose it! What did you take me for? I put ten to your ten as I told you I would. I landed 50 Pounds ----"
"Fifty pounds for twenty?"
"That's the tune of it -- and not much of a tune, either. My God! If I'd only had that thousand of mine by me, or even half of