Perhaps you'll think twice next time before you try your little games on me!"
He stepped back as if he had been shot, hesitated a moment, and then jumped into his cab and drove off in the opposite direction. When he had gone I looked at my astonished companion.
"Well, now," he ejaculated at last, "how on earth did you manage that?"
"Very easily," I replied. "I happen to remember having met that gentleman up in our part of the world when he was in a very awkward position—very awkward. By his action just now I should say he has not forgotten the circumstances any more than I have."
"I should rather think not. Good day!"
We shook hands and parted, he going on down the street, while I branched off to my hotel.
That was the first of the only two adventures of any importance that I met with during my stay in New South Wales. And there's not much in that, I fancy I can hear you saying. Well, that may be so, I don't deny it, but it was nevertheless through that that I became mixed up with the folk who figure in this book, and indeed it was to that very circumstance, and that alone, I owe my connection with the queer story I have set myself to tell. And this is how it came about.
Three days before the steamer sailed and about four o'clock in the afternoon, I chanced to be walking down Castlereagh Street, wondering what on earth I should do with myself until dinner-time, when I saw approaching me the very man whose discomfiture I have just described. Being probably occupied planning the plucking of some unfortunate new chum, he did not see me coming towards him. And as I had no desire to meet
