"`Grit'!" The grizzled man looked up with a laugh. "Of course. That was the name you went by in the days when you weren't Lawless either in name or occupation. To think I should forget!" "You're too damned modest," yelled a youngster. "The chaps tell stories about you up in Rhodesia to-day." "Fairy-tales," Lawless responded, smoking indifferently. "That's a lie, anyway," retorted Hayhurst. "I know one or two facts." "Among facts I know about you," Lawless replied sharply, "is that you gab too freely. Sit down, and shut up." Hayhurst looked nettled. He lost his ready assurance and lapsed into a sulky mood. "I'll knock any man's head off who says that about me," he muttered. "Well, come and knock mine off," was the curt invitation; and during the derisive laughter that followed Hayhurst sat down. "Shake!" Mat Rentoul had emerged from his corner, and, swaying at Lawless' elbow, unsteadily advanced his huge fist. "Shake!" he repeated peremptorily. And on the command being complied with, he turned about and harangued the rest. "Said I'd 'it 'im, didn't I? Well, 'e can 'it me, if 'e likes. I'll 'it any man whot isn't a friend of 'is. That woman I spoke of--" "Oh! dry up," shouted Lawless, beginning to lose his temper. "'It me, if you like," returned Mat imperturbably... "I've said you might... Gave 'er 'is last thick 'un, 'e did, and 'elped 'er back to 'er friends. She told me 'erself... You did--you lie!--an' took in yer belt two 'oles when you fancied she wasn't looking. I don't care what hell's scum you chum with... they won't do you any 'arm." "Oh! let him alone, Grit," the man whose pouch he had shared, and who was called Graves, interposed carelessly. "Nobody's listening. Send round the bottle, boys. There's been too much leakage in one quarter. Play fair." Somebody produced a tin whistle, and after a very creditable performance on it, took a draught from a glass another man offered him, wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and started a familiar music-hall ditty. "You take solo, Tom," Stephens suggested. Hayhurst, who was lying sulking, with his elbow on the floor and his hand supporting his head, kicked out a dusty riding-boot aggressively, but made no other move. "I'm holding my jaw," he said. "Don't be a jackass. If you won't take the solo, I will." The other rolled over and sat up. "There's one thing I object to more strongly than singing myself on the present occasion," he remarked, "and that's listening to you. Give me the note, Bill, and then go ahead."