LAND AND W A T E R 
February 3, 1916. 
Spaniard, and was piling up the chips when my partner 
scooped the pile and the police rlid the rest. I-ord, I never 
was so beat as that time. I g.it a boat that took me to 
Liverpool. I did not want to go to f.iverpool a bit, but the 
boat did and as 1 was one of the hands I had to go with 
her," 
He tapped the dottle out of his pipe against his boot heel, 
and as ho did so Houghton cauglit a glimjise of tlie fluke of a 
')Iue anchor tatoocd on his wrist and exposed by the stretching 
A his arm. It was the only thing about the man suggestive 
jf the fact that he had lieen a sailor. 
" From that I worked back to New York," he went on, 
" and from .New York here and there till I arrived in the old 
Colony, ahcayx with an eye on my proposition and another 
eye out for a suitable man to lay it before. I was near giving 
up when I fell in with a likely chap, a gentleman bom ; met 
liini in a bar on Market Street, cottoned to him at once, just 
us I've done to you, gave him a whisper of what was in my 
mind and set him alight with it. He's in the swim here 
thougli he hasn't much money of his own. Bobby Tillman is 
his name, and he's going to lay me and my proposition before a 
likely man this very morning : eleven o'clock's the hour. 
If we can fix things up, Tillman is the man to collect the hands 
for the job and find a likely \-essel ; he's in with all the water- 
side. Money is useful in a thing like this, but it's the men 
that pull it through ; get the wrong ones and you're done." 
" Look here," said Houghton. " I don't know what 
this job of yours may be, and I don't want to be inquisitive, 
but it seems adventurous and you seem to want men. Would 
there be any show for me in it ? " 
" And why not ? " asked Macquart, " if you're game for 
roughing it. 'Pears to me I've been telling you a lot of things 
I wouldn't have told to a casual stranger. Well, it's just 
l)ecause I seem to cotton to you. Mind now, and don't be 
flying away with things, building up on a treasure venture 
as if there was a fortune for everyone in it ; there's not that. 
There's the chap with money to be considered, there's me and 
there's Tillman. Rut you'd have your share and you'd see 
things, and maybe you'd be better off than on any job likely 
to turn up in Sydnej-. Can you handle a boat ? " 
" I've done a good deal of yachting in a small way." 
Macquart laughed. 
" That's the English all over," said he, " bred up in 
idleness and sport, and then, when the pinch comes, in out-of- 
the-wav places the sport helps them through. And I suppose 
you know the which end of a gun ? " 
" Yes, I'm a fair shot." 
" You'll do all right. Oh, I reckon you'll do all right, 
if we can only collar the bug with the money, which is my 
business, though maybe you can help a bit in that, too. I'm 
not much to look at, but your clothes are all right ; you only 
want a wash and a brush up to be the English gentleman new 
to the colonies. There's nothing like a bit of good appearance 
to help a deal through. Tillman is good enough, but he's a 
bit off the handle. His father was a big marine store-dealer 
and lie died worth a good deal ; left his pile to Bobby, who 
spent half of it and was choused out of the rest — or nearly so, 
for he's got a bit left, not much but enough to keep him idle. 
Well, shall we get a move on ? I'm going to a place I know 
for some breakfast — have you any money ? " 
" Two shillings," said Houghton, without any shame in 
stating the fact of his destitution. 
" Well, keep your money in your pocket. I'll pay. I 
have tick at the place I know. You'll want something for 
drinks, maybe, and I expect by to-night we'll be a durned 
sight better off if I can touch this chap with the money." 
They left the Domain and entered the city. The morning 
was now blue and blazing, the streets brilliant with sunlight, 
and Houghton, walking beside Macquart. felt a wonderful 
uplift of mind and spirit. 
Macquart was practically a tramp, though better dressed 
than the ordinary hobo ; a man without money or home or 
prospects, yet of such an extraordinary personality that in 
iiis companionship all these details of life seemed of little 
account. This dreamer of wealth had the power of inspiring 
others with his dreams— or his disease. With him something 
wonderful was always going to happen, a sure thing that would 
shower gold on himself and his companions. Given a man 
with a grain of imagination and placed long in the company 
of Macquart. and that man would be lost — or at least his 
money would be lost, but at least he would have had excite- 
ment' for his money, fabulous dreams of wealth, and the 
vision of a gorgeous future. 
Houghton was under this spell now. Macquart had told 
him quite definitely that his — Houghton's— share in the 
Venture would be small ; that did not matter, the Venture 
was the main thing, the atmosphere of romance and new life 
that Macquart was* able to cast around him without any 
effort, the spirit of youth he was able to conjure up to assist 
in his infernal projects. 
No man can influence without being influenced himself, 
no man can make others feel what he does not feel himself. 
Macquart 's whole-hearted entiiusiasm in pursuit of his own 
ideals, his genuine joy in their pursuit, and his abandonment 
to imagination were the factors no doubt of his success. The 
old clothes that covered this walking romance were forgotten 
by they who read him, the dubious morality hinted at in his 
j)iiysiognoniv was jiassed over ; the fact that he was a walking 
parable on Poverty was unheeded — he showed men Fortune, 
talked of her as his mate, and made them believe. 
He led the way past the post-oftice and town-hall, of 
which splendid buildings he seemed as proud as any Sydneyite, 
and then, expatiating on the palms growing in front of the 
latter building, on the tramway trafhe of the streets and the 
general prosperity of the city, led on down a by-way to the 
doors of the modest-looking cafe where he possessed tick. 
CHAPTER II. 
Thi; Man Without IntAGTNATiox. 
AT ten o'clock, Macquart leading the way, they entered 
Lamperts bar at the corner of Holt Street. Lam- 
perts is the most extensive and expensive place of 
Its kind in Sydney, and that is saying a good deal. 
After and before a race-meeting it is crowded, and it is said 
that more money is made and lost here than on the Wool 
Exchange. Here you may meet a great many notabilities, 
from the men who write and draw for the first paper in the 
Eastern Hemisphere to the man who has won the last sweep- 
stake. Lamperts has known Phil May, his pictures are on 
the walls ; and it was towards a young gentleman contemplat- 
ing one of these pictures that Macquart now advanced. 
Tillman, for it was the redoubtable Bobby Tillman 
himself, turned at the footstep of the other, recognised him, 
and taking his cigarette from his mouth gave him greeting. 
Tillman looked about eighteen ; he was in reality twenty- 
seven ; fresh complexioned, clean-shaved, and well-dressed in 
a suit of blue serge, wearing a straw hat on the back of his 
head and his hands in his trousers' pockets, he was a typical 
" boy." 
Every race-course knew him, every bookmaker had 
made money out of him ; he had spent a little fortune on 
dissipation, yet he remained to all intents and purposes quite 
fresh, innocent, and young. 
Houghton took a liking at once to this new acquaintance, 
and having been introduced by Macquart as " My friend, Mr. 
Houghton, just arrived from England," found himself leaning 
against the bar counter, a soft drink at his elbow and his 
attention entirely occupied by Tillman, who was talking to 
Macquart yet including him in the conversation. 
" Wliat I like about j'ou is your punctuality," he was 
sa5ang. " A man who doesn't keep his appointments is a 
man who, ten to one, doesn't keep his word. Well, here's 
to 3'ou." 
" Here's to you," said Macquart ; " and how about the 
business ? " 
" Oh, that's all right," said Tillman. " I saw Curlewis 
again last night and reminded him. We are to be at his 
office at eleven sharp ; he's interested and that's the great 
thing. Does your friend know anything of the affair ? " 
" Enough to make him want to lend a hand," replied 
Macquart, half turning towards Houghton. " He can't put 
any money into the thing " 
" Not a cent," cut in Houghton, with a laugh. 
" But he's a yachtsman," went on Macquart, " and a 
good shot and used to roughing it — just the man we want." 
" Good Lord ! I should think so," said Tillman en- 
thusiastically. " Blow the money ; a good man is better than 
riches in an affair like this; strength in the after-guard is 
what we want and chaps that aren't afraid of the weather. 
Houghton, I'll be glad to have you with us." 
" I've told him that the pay won't be great as viewed in 
proportion to the takings," said Macquart. 
" There you go," cried the enthusiastic Tillman, " talking 
of pay as if you were going to open a fried fish shop. What 
comes to us will be shared in proportion to what we do or what 
we put into the business. You see, in a safe land show it's 
all very well talking of salaries, but in an affair where we all 
risk being eaten by fishes or chewed by tigers, shares is a 
better word than salaries." 
The word " tigers " made Houghton look up. 
" There aren't any tigers," said Macquart ; " tree cats 
and "leopards, nothing worse." 
1 don't want to ask too many questions," said Houghton. 
" or make you give tlie show away before you want to, but 
would it be too much to ask where we are going ? " 
" Mean to say you don't know ? " cried Tillman. 
" Not in the least." 
" Well, you take the biscuit. You do, indeed. By 
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