Over the Sliprails Part 2

Gentleman Sharper moved his position, carelessly, noiselessly, yet quickly, until he leaned on the rail close to the ferns and could overhear every word the bushies said. He had dropped his cigar overboard, and his scented handkerchief behind a fern-pot en route.

"But he looks all right, and acts all right, and talks all right--and shouts all right," protested Steelman. "He's not stumped, for I saw twenty or thirty sovereigns when he shouted; and he doesn't seem to care a d.a.m.n whether we stand in with him or not."

"There you are! That's just where it is!" said Smith, with some logic, but in a tone a wife uses in argument (which tone, by the way, especially if backed by logic or common sense, makes a man wild sooner than anything else in this world of troubles).

Steelman jerked his chair half-round in disgust. "That's you!" he snorted, "always suspicious! Always suspicious of everybody and everything! If I found myself shot into a world where I couldn't trust anybody I'd shoot myself out of it. Life would be worse than not worth living. Smith, you'll never make money, except by hard graft--hard, bullocking, n.i.g.g.e.r-driving graft like we had on that d.a.m.ned railway section for the last six months, up to our knees in water all winter, and all for a paltry cheque of one-fifty--twenty of that gone already.

How do you expect to make money in this country if you won't take anything for granted, except hard cash? I tell you, Smith, there's a thousand pounds lost for every one gained or saved by trusting too little. How did Vanderbilt and----"

Steelman elaborated to 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 Sat.u.r.day. 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 Sat.u.r.day?"

"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, G.o.d! 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."

Pa.s.sing 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed 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 G.o.d! 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 n.i.g.g.e.rs all our lives! By G.o.d, 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----"