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Rh was the firewood and the carting to be counted. As he put it, "The God damned stuff only went five bloody weights and all my bloody work gone for a whole bloody fortnight."

Well, after this crushing, Bob and Jack rode into Maytown together, rounded up Isaac, "shouted" for old Ahlers and Charley, who had just come in "off the census," and lounged all together into the bar of "Mine Haus," where they got down to business.

"Vy you fellers no go down mit the Irish shanty, ain't it?" asked Ahlers after the third round.

"Oh, damn the Irish shanty," answered Bob. "Look here, Ahlers, you and me's known each other for years and I've allers drunk at this bloody pub, and I ain't a-goin' to shift down to that bloody shanty anyway."

"Vell, Bob, I alvays haf done my best for you. You can't say that I haf not, can yer?"

"No bloody fear, Harry, I can't. Come on, let's have another. Wot's it to be? Here, Charley, wot's yours? Jack, fill up again. Isaac?"

Isaac broke in sharply, "Same!" He never let a chance slip.

"You, Harry, wot are yer goin' to do?"

"Shoost the same, Bob, shoost the same."

And so it went until Charley Ahlers said he was going home.

"G'long!" It was about ten o'clock now and Bob and Jack were both drunk.

"G'long!" said Bob. "Have another."

"No, Bob, no more."

"You're no bloody good, you ain't," cried Jack.

"I'm as good as you and chance it." Charley laughed.

"I'm damned if you are."

"Yes, I am, and you know it."

"Put yer bloody hands up and see," shouted Jack, "you—you—"