Over the Sliprails | Page 8

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 it, I'd have made
a pile!"
"Fifty pounds for twenty!" cried Steelman excitedly. "Why, that's grand!
And to think we chaps have been grafting like niggers all our lives! By

God, we'll stand in with you for all we've got!"
"There's my hand on it," as they reached the hotel.
"If you come to my room I'll give you the 25 Pounds now, if you like."
"Oh, that's all right," exclaimed Steelman impulsively; "you mustn't
think I don't ----"
"That's all right. Don't you say any more about it. You'd best have the
stuff to-night to show your mate."
"Perhaps so; he's a suspicious fool, but I made a bargain with him about
our last cheque. He can hang on to the stuff, and I can't. If I'd been on
my own I'd have blued it a week ago. Tell you what I'll do -- we'll call
our share (Smith's and mine) twenty quid. You take the odd fiver for
your trouble."
"That looks fair enough. We'll call it twenty guineas to you and your
mate. We'll want him, you know."
In his own and Smith's room Steelman thoughtfully counted
twenty-one sovereigns on the toilet-table cover, and left them there in a
pile.
He stretched himself, scratched behind his ear, and blinked at the
money abstractedly. Then he asked, as if the thought just occurred to
him: "By the way, Smith, do you see those yellow boys?"
Smith saw. He had been sitting on the bed with a studiously vacant
expression. It was Smith's policy not to seem, except by request, to take
any interest in, or, in fact, to be aware of anything unusual that
Steelman might be doing -- from patching his pants to reading poetry.
"There's twenty-one sovereigns there!" remarked Steelman casually.
"Yes?"
"Ten of 'em's yours."
"Thank yer, Steely."
"And," added Steelman, solemnly and grimly, "if you get taken down
for 'em, or lose 'em out of the top-hole in your pocket, or spend so
much as a shilling in riotous living, I'll stoush you, Smith."
Smith didn't seem interested. They sat on the beds opposite each other
for two or three minutes, in something of the atmosphere that pervades
things when conversation has petered out and the dinner-bell is
expected to ring. Smith screwed his face and squeezed a pimple on his
throat; Steelman absently counted the flies on the wall. Presently
Steelman, with a yawning sigh, lay back on the pillow with his hands

clasped under his head.
"Better take a few quid, Smith, and get that suit you were looking at the
other day. Get a couple of shirts and collars, and some socks; better get
a hat while you're at it -- yours is a disgrace to your benefactor. And, I
say, go to a chemist and get some cough stuff for that churchyarder of
yours -- we've got no use for it just now, and it makes me sentimental.
I'll give you a cough when you want one. Bring me a syphon of soda,
some fruit, and a tract."
"A what?"
"A tract. Go on. Start your boots."
While Smith was gone, Steelman paced the room with a strange,
worried, haunted expression. He divided the gold that was left -- (Smith
had taken four pounds) -- and put ten sovereigns in a pile on the
extreme corner of the table. Then he walked up and down, up and down
the room, arms tightly folded, and forehead knitted painfully, pausing
abruptly now and then by the table to stare at the gold, until he heard
Smith's step.