ght.

How Steelman told his Story

It was Steelman's humour, in some of his moods, to take Smith into his
confidence, as some old bushmen do their dogs.

"You're nearly as good as an intelligent sheep-dog to talk to,
Smith--when a man gets tired of thinking to himself and wants a relief.
You're a bit of a mug and a good deal of an idiot, and the chances are
that you don't know what I'm driving at half the time--that's the main
reason why I don't mind talking to you. You ought to consider yourself
honoured; it ain't every man I take into my confidence, even that far."

Smith rubbed his head.

"I'd sooner talk to you--or a stump--any day than to one of those
silent, suspicious, self-contained, worldly-wise chaps that listen to
everything you say--sense and rubbish alike--as if you were trying to
get them to take shares in a mine. I drop the man who listens to me all
the time and doesn't seem to get bored. He isn't safe. He isn't to be
trusted. He mostly wants to grind his axe against yours, and there's
too little profit for me where there are two axes to grind, and no
stone--though I'd manage it once, anyhow."

"How'd you do it?" asked Smith.

"There are several ways. Either you join forces, for instance, and find
a grindstone--or make one of the other man's axe. But the last way is
too slow, and, as I said, takes too much brain-work--besides, it doesn't
pay. It might satisfy your vanity or pride, but I've got none. I had
once, when I was younger, but it--well, it nearly killed me, so I
dropped it.

"You can mostly trust the man who wants to talk more than you do; he'll
make a safe mate--or a good grindstone."

Smith scratched the nape of his neck and sat blinking at the fire, with
the puzzled expression of a woman pondering over a life-question or the
trimming of a hat. Steelman took his chin in his hand and watched Smith
thoughtfully.

"I--I say, Steely," exclaimed Smith, suddenly, sitting up and scratching
his head and blinking harder than ever--"wha--what am I?"

"How do you mean?"

"Am I the axe or the grindstone?"

"Oh! your brain seems in extra good working order to-night, Smith. Well,
you turn the grindstone and I grind." Smith settled. "If you could
grind better than I, I'd turn the stone and let YOU grind, I'd never go
against the interests of the firm--that's fair enough, isn't it?"

"Ye-es," admitted Smith; "I suppose so."

"So do I. Now, Smith, we've got along all right together f