wake up!"

"Bet I'll get a quart," said Smith, brightening up, "and some tucker for
it to wash down."

"If you don't," said Steelman, "I'll stoush you. Never mind the bottle;
fling it away. It doesn't look well for a traveller to go into a pub.
with an empty bottle in his hand. A real swagman never does. It looks
much better to come out with a couple of full ones. That's what you've
got to do. Now, come along."

Steelman turned off into a lane, cut across the paddocks to the road
again, and waited for Smith. He hadn't long to wait.

Smith went on towards the public-house, rehearsing his part as
he walked--repeating his "lines" to himself, so as to be sure of
remembering all that Steelman had told him to say to the landlord, and
adding, with what he considered appropriate gestures, some fancy touches
of his own, which he determined to throw in in spite of Steelman's
advice and warning. "I'll tell him (this)--I'll tell him (that). Well,
look here, boss, I'll say you're pretty right and I quite agree with you
as far as that's concerned, but," &c. And so, murmuring and mumbling
to himself, Smith reached the hotel. The day was late, and the bar was
small, and low, and dark. Smith walked in with all the assurance he
could muster, eased down his swag in a corner in what he no doubt
considered the true professional style, and, swinging round to the bar,
said in a loud voice which he intended to be cheerful, independent, and
hearty:

"Good-day, boss!"

But it wasn't a "boss". It was about the hardest-faced old woman that
Smith had ever seen. The pub. had changed hands.

"I--I beg your pardon, missus," stammered poor Smith.

It was a knock-down blow for Smith. He couldn't come to time. He and
Steelman had had a landlord in their minds all the time, and laid
their plans accordingly; the possibility of having a she--and one like
this--to deal with never entered into their calculations. Smith had no
time to reorganise, even if he had had the brains to do so, without the
assistance of his mate's knowledge of human nature.

"I--I beg your pardon, missus," he stammered.

Painful pause. She sized him up.

"Well, what do you want?"

"Well, missus--I--the fact is--will you give me a bottle of beer for
fourpence?"

"Wha--what?"

"I mean----. The fact is, we've only got fourpence left, and--I've got a
mate outside, and you might let us have a quart or so, in a bottle, for
that. I mean--anyway, you might let us have a pi