aying cards. It was about three o'clock in the afternoon, and they had
been gambling since nine--and the greater part of the night before--so
they were, probably, in a worse condition morally (and perhaps
physically) than the drunken swagman on the sofa.

Close under the bar, in a dangerous place for his legs and tail, lay a
sheep-dog with a chain attached to his collar and wound round his neck.

Presently a thump on the table, and Bill, unlucky gambler, rose with an
oath that would have been savage if it hadn't been drawled.

'Stumped?' inquired Jim.

'Not a blanky, lurid deener!' drawled Bill.

Jim drew his reluctant hands from the cards, his eyes went slowly and
hopelessly round the room and out the door. There was something in the
eyes of both, except when on the card-table, of the look of a man waking
in a strange place.

'Got anything?' asked Jim, fingering the cards again.

Bill sucked in his cheeks, collecting the saliva with difficulty, and
spat out on to the verandah floor.

'That's all I got,' he drawled. 'It's gone now.'

Jim leaned back in his chair, twisted, yawned, and caught sight of the
dog.

'That there dog yours?' he asked, brightening.

They had evidently been strangers the day before, or as strange to each
other as Bushmen can be.

Bill scratched behind his ear, and blinked at the dog. The dog woke
suddenly to a flea fact.

'Yes,' drawled Bill, 'he's mine.'

'Well, I'm going Out-Back, and I want a dog,' said Jim, gathering the
cards briskly. 'Half a quid agin the dog?'

'Half a quid be----!' drawled Bill. 'Call it a quid?'

'Half a blanky quid!'

'A gory, lurid quid!' drawled Bill desperately, and he stooped over his
swag.

But Jim's hands were itching in a ghastly way over the cards.

'Alright. Call it a---- quid.'

The drunkard on the sofa stirred, showed signs of waking, but died
again. Remember this, it might come in useful.

Bill sat down to the table once more.

Jim rose first, winner of the dog. He stretched, yawned 'Ah, well!' and
shouted drinks. Then he shouldered his swag, stirred the dog up with his
foot, unwound the chain, said 'Ah, well--so long!' and drifted out and
along the road toward Out-Back, the dog following with head and tail
down.

Bill scored another drink on account of girl-pity for bad luck,
shouldered his swag, said, 'So long, Mary!' and drifted out and along
the road towards Tinned Dog, on the Bourke side.

*****

A long, drowsy, hal