anted to go back and
"stoush" that landlord, and the driver stopped the coach cheerfully at
their request; but they said they'd come across him again and allowed
themselves to be persuaded out of it. It made us feel bad to think how
we had allowed ourselves to be delayed, and robbed, and had sneaked
round on tiptoe, and how we had sat on the inoffensive Pilgrim and his
mate, and all on account of a sick wife who didn't exist.

The coach arrived at Dead Camel in an atmosphere of mutual suspicion and
distrust, and we spread ourselves over the train and departed.

A Gentleman Sharper and Steelman Sharper

Steelman and Smith had been staying at the hotel for several days in the
dress and character of bushies down for what they considered a spree.
The gentleman sharper from the Other Side had been hanging round
them for three days now. Steelman was the more sociable, and, to all
appearances, the greener of the two bush mates; but seemed rather
too much under the influence of Smith, who was reserved, suspicious,
self-contained, or sulky. He almost scowled at Gentleman Sharper's
"Good-morning!" and "Fine day!", replied in monosyllables and turned
half away with an uneasy, sullen, resentful hump of his shoulder and
shuffle of his feet.

Steelman took Smith for a stroll on the round, bald tussock hills
surrounding the city, and rehearsed him for the last act until after
sundown.

Gentleman Sharper was lounging, with a cigar, on the end of the balcony,
where he had been contentedly contemplating the beautiful death of day.
His calm, classic features began to whiten (and sharpen) in the frosty
moonlight.

Steelman and Smith sat on deck-chairs behind a half-screen of ferns
on the other end of the balcony, smoked their after-dinner smoke, and
talked in subdued tones as befitted the time and the scene--great,
softened, misty hills in a semicircle, and the water and harbour lights
in moonlight.

The other boarders were loitering over dinner, in their rooms, or gone
out; the three were alone on the balcony, which was a rear one.

Gentleman Sharper moved his position, carelessly, noiselessly, yet
quickly, until he leaned on the rail close to the ferns and could
overhear every word the bushies said. He had dropped his cigar
overboard, and his scented handkerchief behind a fern-pot en route.

"But he looks all right, and acts all right, and talks all right--and
shouts all right," protested Steelman. "He's not stumped,