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Updated: June 8, 2025
Both margraves had listened with polite toleration when I compassionately added that the pile reef is always discovered by an ungrammatical person, named Old Brummy, or Sydney Bob, or Squinty-eyed Pete, or something to the same general effect; and this because few 'gentlemen' can stoop low enough, and long enough, and doggedly enough, to conquer; whereas Brummy &c., does n't require to stoop at all and his show is little better than Buckley's.
"I ain't going to lose it if that's all that's fretting you," said Brummy, "and there ain't nothing going to happen to me and don't you forget it." "That's all the thanks I get for givin' yer my gory job," said Swampy, savagely. "I won't be sick a soft fool agen, I can tell yer." Brummy was silent, and Swampy dropped behind. He brooded darkly, and it's a bad thing for a man to brood in the bush.
When he thought it was safe he moved cautiously and slipped his hand under Brummy's head, but Brummy's old pocket-book in which he carried some dirty old letters in a woman's handwriting was not there. All next day Swampy watched Brummy sharply every time he put his hands into his pockets, to try and find out in which pocket he kept his money.
It was his job, anyway, and the money was his by rights. He'd have his rights. Brummy, who carried the billy, gave Swampy a long tramp before he camped and made a fire. They had tea in silence, and smoked moodily apart until Brummy turned in.
Howsomenever, there's one thing sartin none o' them theer pianer-fingered parsons is a-goin' ter take the trouble ter travel out inter this God-forgotten part to hold sarvice over him, seein' as how his last cheque's blued. But, as I've got the fun'ral arrangements all in me own hands, I'll do jestice to it, and see that Brummy has a good comfortable buryin' and more's unpossible."
"Well, look 'ere, now, you take it from me, if there's a row Nugget will spread him out as flat as a newspaper. They've all been in the ring in their time, these coves. There's Nugget, and Ginger, and Brummy all red 'ot. You get him away!" Meanwhile the Englishman's ire was gradually rising.
Next morning Brummy was decidedly frivolous. At any other time Swampy would have put it down to a "touch o' the sun," but now he felt a growing conviction that Brummy knew what he'd been up to the last three nights, and the more he thought of it the more it pained him till at last he could stand it no longer.
He reckoned that he had the face and cut of an actor, could mimic any man's voice, and had wonderful control over his features. They came to a notoriously "hungry" station, where there was a Scottish manager and storekeeper. Brummy went up to "government house" in his own proper person, had a talk with the storekeeper, spoke of a sick mate, and got some flour and meat.
He had put up with a lot from Brummy: he'd picked him up on the track and learned him all he knowed; Brummy would have starved many a time if it hadn't been for Swampy; Swampy had learned him how to "battle." He'd stick to Brummy yet, but he couldn't stand ingratitude.
All that long years in a convict hell could do to rob a man of the grace of humanity and harden him to pain and labour had been done for Brummy the Nut. The Nut favoured Jim, Mike, and the Prodigal each with a duck of the head and a movement of his hand towards the forehead. 'This is our man, Brummy the Nut, said the party's spokesman. 'Well, Brummy, I won't fight you, replied Done.
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