But Engelhardt rolled over on his left side and moved no more.
Simons knelt over him.
"He's a stiff 'un, mates. My blessed oath he is! That's number two, an' both on 'em yours, Bill."
Bill laughed.
"That'll be all right," said he. "Where's my pipe got to? I'm weakenin' for a smoke."
CHAPTER XII FALLEN AMONG THIEVES
There was life in Engelhardt yet, though for some time he lay as good as dead. The thing that revived him was the name of Naomi Pryse on the lips of the late ringer of the Taroomba shed. The piano-tuner listened for more without daring to open his eyes or to move a muscle. And more came with a horrifying flow of foul words.
"She had the lip to sack me! But I'll be even with her before the night's out. Yes, by cripes, by sunrise she'll wish she'd never been born!"