A typical bush yarn.
Two chaps named Brummy and Swampy was tramping from Nevermineware to Smotherplace. Brummy was a bad egg, and Swampy knowed it; but they travelled together for the sake of company. Swampy had 25 quid on him. Brummy, who was stumped.
Every night Brummy tried to get the money, and Swampy knowed it. He never slept with more than one eye shut.
When they parted company, Brummy said to Swampy: —
“Look-a-here! Where the deuce do you carry that stuff of yours? I’ve been tryin’ to get hold of it every night when you was asleep.”
“I know you was.” says Swampy.
“Well, where the blazes did you put it?”
“Under your head!”
“The ——, you did!”
They grinned, shook hands, and parted; and Brummy scratched his head very hard and often as he tramped along the track.
Henry Lawson. Short Stories in Prose and Verse, L. Lawson, Sydney, , page 54