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Updated: June 8, 2025
Then he lifted the body, stood it on its feet against the chimney, and ruminated as to where he should lodge his mate for the night, not noticing that the shorter sheet of bark had slipped down on the boots and left the face exposed. "I spect I'll have ter put yer into the chimney-trough for the night, Brummy," said he, turning round to confront the corpse.
"You wouldn't have got it if you had asked," said Brummy, uncompromisingly. "Look here!" with vehemence. "Didn't I keep yer in tobacco and buy yer gory pants? What are you naggin' about anyway?" "Well," said Swampy, "all I was goin' to say was that yer might let me carry one of them quids in case you lost one yer know you're careless and lose things; or in case anything happened to you."
They carried a spare set of tucker-bags, and if, for instance, they were out of sugar and had plenty flour and tea, Brummy or Swampy would go to the store, boundary-rider's hut, or selector's, with the sugar-bag in his hand and the other bags in his shirt front on spec. He'd get the sugar first, and then, if it looked good enough, the flour-bag would come out, then the tea-bag.
He had a theory that the wet side of the chip, being presumably heaviest, was more likely to fall downwards; but this time it was "wet" up three times in succession. Brummy ignored Swampy's hand thrown out in hearty congratulation; and next morning he went to work in the shed. Swampy camped down the river, and Brummy supplied him with a cheap pair of moleskin trousers, tucker and tobacco.
The storekeeper might let yer have a bit o' tobacco." On one occasion, when they were out of flour and meat; Brummy and Swampy came across two other pilgrims camped on a creek, who were also out of flour and meat. One of them had tried a surveyors' camp a little further down, but without success. The surveyors' cook had said that he was short of flour and meat himself. Brummy tried him no luck.
"Look here!" he said presently, "let's settle it and have done with this damned sentimental tommy-rot. I'll tell you what I'll do I'll give you the job and take my chance. The boss might want another man to-morrow. Now, are you satisfied?" But Swampy didn't look grateful or happy. "Well," growled Brummy, "of all the I ever travelled with you're the . What do you want anyway? What'll satisfy you?
The swagman loafer, or "bummer," times himself, especially in bad weather, to arrive at the shed just about sundown; he is then sure of "tea," shelter for the night, breakfast, and some tucker from the cook to take him on along the track. Brummy and Swampy were sundowners. Swampy was a bummer born and proud of it.
"It's all over now; nothin' matters now nothin' didn't ever matter, nor nor don't. He threw in some more earth. "Yer don't remember, Brummy, an' mebbe yer don't want to remember I don't want to remember but well, but, yer see that's where yer got the pull on me." He shovelled in some more earth and paused again.
"Look here, Brummy," he said frankly, "where the hell do you keep that flamin' stuff o' yourn? I been tryin' to git at it ever since we left West-o'-Sunday." "I know you have, Swampy," said Brummy, affectionately as if he considered that Swampy had done his best in the interests of mateship. "I knowed yer knowed!" exclaimed Swampy, triumphantly. "But where the blazes did yer put it?"
"The same cuss-o'-God wretch has a-follered me 'ome, an' has been a-havin' its Christmas dinner off of Brummy, an' a-hauntin' o' me into the bargain, the jumpt-up tinker!"
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