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out of another fellow's pockets. He's called a Socialist to-day, but he'd call himself a Jew, a nigger, a polecat to-morrow, if, by doing that, he'd get a hundred more. In short, mates, he's a politician--you know what that means. Now, Andy Fisher and Pearce don't shout like this thing here. They're men, they're Australians. They want us to fight side by side with the boys from the old country. That's why we're here. And we'll fight, and so much for a fat-headed M.P. that couldn't write his own name ten years ago. This chap's an insult to Australia." "Hear, hear!" chorused all the Bushmen volunteers. "Listen, boys! Listen!" roared the M.P. above the din; but they simply howled him down. In the middle of this row Claud rose up, and putting up his hand, asked for order. Again silence reigned. "Well, gentlemen--I mean, boys," said Claud, fumbling with his eyeglass, "I wish to make a motion----" "You're a new chum--sit down," roared Neverwork. "And that's why I want to speak," said Claud, in such a quiet, cynical way that the M.P. almost choked. "I'm a new chum--yes. And I am, also, one of the boys. I'm in the Shearers' Union, too. I have been treated well here--don't cher know, and here are my good friends. And we're all going to fight, for what----" "For financiers and Jews," roared the M.P. "No, my apoplectic friend! We're going to fight for Australia--not Britain--and we're going to fight to prevent fools like you handing this land over to German or Yellow men. It's the proper thing, don't cher know. Now, gentlemen----" "Not so much of the gentlemen," shouted Neverwork. "My dear friend, you were not included in the term. I am addressing these gentlemen from the Bush. You're too beastly dirty and lazy to be a Bushman," said Claud, adjusting his eyeglass and surveying the squat figure of the M.P. as if he were examining a maggot. "My motion, boys, is simply this, that we stop the train by pulling the communication cord, and hold the driver up for ten minutes. Meantime, we might seize our political gasbag, secure him with a few bits of rope, hoist him out of the carriage, and tie him up to one of the signal posts, leaving a suitable inscription attached to his corporation, so that all the world shall know what a delightful idiot this gentleman--I mean politician--is." "Carried, be jabers!" roared Paddy Doolan, pulling the communication cord, while Bill, Sandy and some more, sei
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