weet, straight-limbed child that he had just discovered. Chook,
standing at his elbow, like the devil in the old prints, was watching
him curiously.

"Well, I'm off," cried Chook at last. "Wot'll I tell the blokes?"

Jonah was silent for a moment, with a sombre look in his eyes. Then he
pulled himself together.

"Let 'er go," he cried grimly; "the kid can wait."

On the stroke of eleven, as they reached the "Angel", the huge lamps
were extinguished, the doors swung open and vomited a stream of men on
to the footpath, their loud voices bringing the noise and heat of the
bar into the quiet street. They dispersed slowly, talking
immoderately, parting with the regret of lovers from the warm bar with
its cheerful light and pleasant clink of glasses. The doors were
closed, but the bar was still noisy, and the laggards slipped out
cautiously by the side door, where a barman kept watch for the police.
Presently the bricklayer came out, alone. He stood on the footpath,
slightly fuddled, his giddiness increased by the fresh air.
Immediately Chook lurched forward to meet him, with a drunken leer.

"'Ello, Bill, fancy meetin' yous!" he mumbled.

The man, swaying slightly, stared at him in a fog.

"I dunno you," he muttered.

"Wot, yer dunno me, as worked wid yer on that job in Kent Street?
Dunno Joe Parsons, as danced wid yer missis at the bricklayers' picnic?"

The man stopped to think, trying to remember, but his brain refused the
effort.

"Orl right," he muttered; "come an' 'ave a drink." And he turned to the
bar.

"No fear," cried Chook, taking him affectionately by the arm, "no more
fer me! I'm full up ter the chin, an' so are yous."

"Might's well 'ave another," said the man, obstinately.

Chook pulled him gently away from the hotel, along the street.

"It's gittin' late; 'ow'll yer ole woman rous w'en yer git 'ome?"

"Sez anythin' ter me, break 'er bleedin' jaw," muttered the bricklayer.
And then his eyes flamed with foolish, drunken anger. "I earn the
money, don' I, an' I spend it, don' I?" he inquired. And he refused to
move till Chook answered his question.

The Push closed quietly in.

"'Oo are these blokes?" he asked uneasily.

"Pals o' mine, all good men an' true," said Chook, gaily.

They were near Eveleigh Station, and the street was clear. The red
signal-lights, like angry, bloodshot eyes, followed the curve of the
line as it swept into the terminus. An engine screamed hoarsely as