out of another fellow's
pockets. He's called a Socialist to-day, but he'd call himself a Jew,
a nigger, a polecat to-morrow, if, by doing that, he'd get a hundred
more. In short, mates, he's a politician--you know what that means.
Now, Andy Fisher and Pearce don't shout like this thing here. They're
men, they're Australians. They want us to fight side by side with the
boys from the old country. That's why we're here. And we'll fight,
and so much for a fat-headed M.P. that couldn't write his own name ten
years ago. This chap's an insult to Australia."

"Hear, hear!" chorused all the Bushmen volunteers.

"Listen, boys! Listen!" roared the M.P. above the din; but they simply
howled him down. In the middle of this row Claud rose up, and putting
up his hand, asked for order. Again silence reigned.

"Well, gentlemen--I mean, boys," said Claud, fumbling with his
eyeglass, "I wish to make a motion----"

"You're a new chum--sit down," roared Neverwork.

"And that's why I want to speak," said Claud, in such a quiet, cynical
way that the M.P. almost choked. "I'm a new chum--yes. And I am,
also, one of the boys. I'm in the Shearers' Union, too. I have been
treated well here--don't cher know, and here are my good friends. And
we're all going to fight, for what----"

"For financiers and Jews," roared the M.P.

"No, my apoplectic friend! We're going to fight for Australia--not
Britain--and we're going to fight to prevent fools like you handing
this land over to German or Yellow men. It's the proper thing, don't
cher know. Now, gentlemen----"

"Not so much of the gentlemen," shouted Neverwork.

"My dear friend, you were not included in the term. I am addressing
these gentlemen from the Bush. You're too beastly dirty and lazy to be
a Bushman," said Claud, adjusting his eyeglass and surveying the squat
figure of the M.P. as if he were examining a maggot.

"My motion, boys, is simply this, that we stop the train by pulling the
communication cord, and hold the driver up for ten minutes. Meantime,
we might seize our political gasbag, secure him with a few bits of
rope, hoist him out of the carriage, and tie him up to one of the
signal posts, leaving a suitable inscription attached to his
corporation, so that all the world shall know what a delightful idiot
this gentleman--I mean politician--is."

"Carried, be jabers!" roared Paddy Doolan, pulling the communication
cord, while Bill, Sandy and some more, sei