of way. Presently I yawned and stretched myself, and said in a
careless way:

"Ah, well! How's the slate?" He scratched the back of his head and
pretended to think.

"Oh, well, we'll call it thirty bob."

Perhaps he thought I'd slap down two quid.

"Well," I says, "and what will you do supposing we don't pay you?"

He looked blank for a moment. Then he fired up and gasped and choked
once or twice; and then he cooled down suddenly and laughed his
nastiest laugh--he was one of those men who always laugh when they're
wild--and said in a nasty, quiet tone:

"You thundering, jumped-up crawlers! If you don't (something) well
part up I'll take your swags and (something) well kick your gory pants
so you won't be able to sit down for a month--or stand up either!"

"Well, the sooner you begin the better," I said; and I chucked the
boot into a corner and bolted.


He jumped the bar counter, got his boot, and came after me. He paused
to slip the boot on--but he only made one step, and then gave a howl
and slung the boot off and rushed back. When I looked round again
he'd got a slipper on, and was coming--and gaining on me, too. I
shifted scenery pretty quick the next five minutes. But I was soon