Over the Sliprails | Page 9

Then his face cleared; he sat down and counted flies.
Smith was undoing and inspecting the parcels, having placed the
syphon and fruit on the table. Behind his back Steelman hurriedly
opened a leather 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 driving at, Smith, and that's the best of it. I've
driven a nail of my life home, and no pincers ever made will get it out."
"Why, Steely, what's the matter with you?"
Steelman rose, took up the pile of ten sovereigns, and placed it neatly
on top of the rest.
"Put the stuff away, Smith."
After breakfast next morning, Gentleman Sharper hung round a bit, and
then suggested a stroll. But Steelman thought the weather looked too
bad, so they went on the balcony for a smoke. They talked of the
weather, wrecks, and things, Steelman leaning with his elbows on the
balcony rail, and Sharper sociably and confidently in the same position
close beside him. But the professional was evidently growing uneasy in
his mind; his side of the conversation grew awkward and disjointed,
and he made the blunder of drifting into an embarrassing silence before
coming to the point. He took one elbow from the rail, and said, with a
bungling attempt at carelessness which was made more transparent by
the awkward pause before it:
"Ah, well, I must see to my correspondence. By the way, when could
you make it convenient to let me have that hundred? The shares are
starting up the last rise now, and we've got no time to lose if we want to
double it."
Steelman turned his face to him and winked once -- a very hard, tight,
cold wink -- a wink in which there was no humour: such a wink as
Steelman had once winked at a half-drunken bully who was going to
have a lark with Smith.
The sharper was one of those men who pull themselves together in a
bad cause, as they stagger from the blow. But he wanted to think this
time.
Later on he approached Steelman quietly and proposed partnership. But
Steelman gave him to understand (as between themselves) that he

wasn't taking on any pupils just then.

An Incident at Stiffner's

They called him "Stiffner" because he used, long before, to get a living
by poisoning wild dogs near the Queensland border. The name stuck to
him closer than misfortune did, for when he rose to the proud and
independent position of landlord and sole proprietor of an out-back pub
he was Stiffner still, and his place was "Stiffner's" -- widely known.
They do say that the name ceased not to be applicable -- that it fitted
even better than in the old dingo days, but -- well, they do say so. All
we can say is that when a shearer arrived with a cheque, and had a
drink or two, he was almost invariably seized with a desire to camp on
the premises for good, spend his cheque in the shortest possible time,
and forcibly shout for everything within hail -- including the Chinaman
cook and Stiffner's disreputable old ram.
The shanty was of the usual kind, and the scenery is as