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 it swept
past with a rattle of jolting metal and the hum of swiftly revolving
wheels. The time was come to strike, but the Push hesitated. The show
of resistance, the spark to kindle their brutal fury, was wanting.

"Is this a prayer meetin'?" inquired Waxy Collins, with a sneer. "Biff
him on the boko, an' we'll finish 'im in one act."

"Shut yer face," said Jonah, and he stepped up to the bricklayer.