Even the Fizzer owns
that "tackling the Downs for the return trip's a bit sickening; haven't
had time to forget what it feels like, you know," he explains.
Inside to Anthony's, three days' spell, over the Downs again, stopping
for another drink at that well, along the stage "that's a bit off," and
back to the "kid's game," dropping mail-bags in twos and threes as he
goes in, and collecting others as he comes out, to say nothing of the
weary packing and unpacking of his team. That is what the Fizzer had to
do by half-past eleven four weeks.
"And will go hopelessly on the spree at the end of the trip," say
uncharitable folk; but they do not know our Fizzer. "Once upon a time I
was a bad little boy," our Fizzer says now, "but since I learnt sense a
billy of tea's good enough for me."
And our Fizzer is not the only man out-bush who has "learnt sense." Man
after man I have met who found tea "good enough," and many more who "know
how to behave themselves." Sadly enough, there are others in plenty who
find their temptations too strong for them--temptations that the world
hardly guesses at.
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