An Outback Marriage

They sat up and looked at each other. Then they made a simultaneous

rush for the stairs, but the street door was slammed in their faces.

They kicked it violently, but without result, except that a mob of

faces looked out of the first-floor window and hooted, and a bucket

of water was emptied over them. A crowd collected as if by magic,

and the spectacle of two gentlemen in evening dress trying to kick

in the door of a shilling dancing saloon afforded it unmitigated

delight.

"'Ere's two toffs got done in all right," said one.

"What O! Won't she darnce with you?" said another; and somebody

from the back threw banana peel at them.

Charlie recovered his wits first. The Englishman was fairly berserk

with rage, and glared round on the bystanders as if he contemplated

a rush among them. The cabman put an end to the performance. He

was tranquil and unemotional, and he soothed them down and coaxed

them into the cab. The band in the room above resumed the dreamy

waltz music of "Bid me Good-bye and go!" and they went.

Carew subsided into the corner, breathing hard and feeling his eye.

Charlie leant forward and peered out into the darkness. They were

nearly at the club before they spoke. Then he said, "Well, I'm

blessed! We made a nice mess of that, didn't we?"

"I'd like to have got one fair crack at some of 'em," said the

Englishman, with heartfelt earnestness. "Couldn't we go back now?"

"No what's the good? We'd never get in. Let the thing alone. We

needn't say anything about it. If once it gets known that we were

chucked out, we'll never hear the last of it. Are you marked at

all?"

"Got an awful swipe in the eye," replied the other briefly.

"I've got a cut lip, and my head nearly screwed off. You did that.

I'll know the place again. Some day we'll get a few of the right

sort to come with us, and we'll just go there quietly, as if we

didn't mean anything, and then, all of a sudden, we'll turn in and

break the whole place up! Come and have a drink now."

They had a silent drink in the deserted club. The mind of each was

filled with a sickening sense of defeat, and without much conversation

they retired to bed. They thanked heaven that the Bo'sun, Pinnock,

and Gillespie had disappeared.

Even then Fate hadn't quite finished with the bushman. A newly-joined

member of the club, he had lived a life in which he had to shift

for himself, and the ways of luxury were new to him. Consequently,

when he awoke next morning and saw a man moving with cat-like tread

about his room, absolutely taking the money out of his clothes before

his very eyes, he sprang out of bed with a bound and half-throttled

the robber. Then, of course, it turned out that it was only the

bedroom waiter, who was taking his clothes away to brush them. This

contretemps, on top of the overnight mishap, made him determined

to get away from town with all speed. When he looked in the glass,

he found his lip so much swelled that his moustache stuck out

in front like the bowsprit of a ship. At breakfast he joined the

Englishman, who had an eye with as many colours as an opal, not to

mention a tired look and dusty boots.