battens an' log weights an' riders, an' laid the
wet bag very carefully acrost the top of the chimbly flue.

An' we was a mortal hour tryin' to find out what was the matter with
that infernal chimbly, and tackin' bits o' tin an' baggin' acrost the
top of the fire-place under the mantelshelf to try an' stop it from
smokin', an' all the while the gals set there with the water runnin' out
of their eyes. We took the green back log out an' fetched in a dry one,
but that chimbly smoked worse than ever, an' we had to put the fire out
altogether, an' the gals set there shiverin' till the rain held up a bit
an' the sky cleared, an' then someone goes out an' looks up an' sings
out, "Why, there's somethin' acrost the top of the blazin' chimbly!"
an' someone else climbs up an' fetches down the bag. But the darnce
was spoilt, an' the gals was so disgusted that they went off with their
fellers while the weather held up. They reckoned some of us bullickies
did it for a lark.

An' arter that Dave'd come ridin' past, an' sing out to know if we knew
of a good cure for a smokin' chimbly, an' them sorter things. But he
always got away before we could pull him off of his horse. Three of us
chased him on horseback one day, but we didn't ketch him.

So we made up our minds to git back on Dave some way or other, an' it
come about this way.

About six months arter the smoked-out darnce, four or five of us same
fellers was campin' on th' Pipeclay agen, an' it was a dry season. It
was dryer an' hotter than it was cold 'n' wet the larst time. Dave was
still hangin' round Mrs Hardwick's an' doin' odd jobs for her. Well, one
very hot day we seen Dave ridin' past into Mudgee, an' we knowed he'd
have a spree in town that night, an' call at Mrs Hardwick's for sympathy
comin' out next day; an' arter he'd been gone an hour or two, Tom
Tarrant comes drivin' past on his mail-coach, an' drops some letters an'
papers an' a bag o' groceries at our camp.

Tom was a hard case. I remember wonst I was drivin' along a lonely
bit o' track, an' it was a grand mornin', an' I felt great, an' I got
singin' an' practisin' a recitation that I allers meant to give at a
bush darnce some night. (I never sung or spouted poetry unless I was
sure I was miles away from anyone.) An' I got worked up, an' was wavin'
me arms about an' throwin' it off of me chest, when Tom's coach comes
up behind, round a bend in the road, an' took me by surprise. An' Tom
looked at me very hard