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While the Billy Boils by Henry Lawson
page 31 of 337 (09%)
"That," he said, "was the half-quid you give me last night.
Half-quids ain't to be thrown away these times; and, besides, I had a
down on Stiffner, and meant to pay him out; I reckoned that if we
wasn't sharp enough to take him down we hadn't any business to be
supposed to be alive. Anyway, I guessed we'd do it; and so we
did--and got a bottle of whisky into the bargain."

Then he leaned back, tired-like, against the log, and dredged his
upper left-hand waistcoat-pocket, and brought up a sovereign wrapped
in a pound note. Then he waited for me to speak; but I couldn't. I
got my mouth open, but couldn't get it shut again.

"I got that out of the mugs last night, but I thought that we'd want
it, and might as well keep it. Quids ain't so easily picked up,
nowadays; and, besides, we need stuff more'n Stiffner does, and so--"

"And did he know you had the stuff?" I gasped.

"Oh, yes, that's the fun of it. That's what made him so excited. He
was in the parlour all the time I was playing. But we might as well
have a drink!

"We did. I wanted it."


Bill turned in by-and-by, and looked like a sleeping innocent in the
moonlight. I sat up late, and smoked, and thought hard, and watched
Bill, and turned in, and thought till near daylight, and then went to
sleep, and had a nightmare about it. I dreamed I chased Stiffner
forty miles to buy his pub, and that Bill turned out to be his nephew.
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