if he didn't know where 'e was. He comeround at last, arter a pint o' beer that Smith 'ad stood 'im, and then hemade a little speech, thanking Smith for the fair way he 'ad acted, andtook up the hamper.
"'Strewth, it is heavy," he ses, getting it up on his back. "Well, solong, mates."
"Ain't you--ain't you going to stand us a drink out o' one o' thembottles?" ses Peter Gubbins, as Bob got to the door.
Bob Pretty went out as if he didn't 'ear; then he stopped, sudden-like,and turned round and put his 'ead in at the door agin, and stood lookingat 'em.
"No, mates," he ses, at last, "and I wonder at you for asking, arter whatyou've all said about me. I'm a pore man, but I've got my feelings. Idrawed fust becos nobody else would, and all the thanks I get for it isto be called a thief."
He went off down the road, and by and by Bill Chambers, wot 'ad beensitting staring straight in front of 'im, got up and went to the door,and stood looking arter 'im like a man in a dream. None of 'em seemed tobe able to believe that the lottery could be all over so soon, and BobPretty going off with it, and when they did make up their minds to it, itwas one o' the most miserable sights you ever see. The idea that they'ad been paying a pint a week for Bob Pretty for months nearly sent someof 'em out of their minds.
"It can't be 'elped," ses Mr. Smith. "He 'ad the pluck to draw fust, andhe won; anybody else might ha' done it. He gave you the offer, GeorgeKettle, and you, too, Henery Walker."
Henery Walker was too low-spirited to answer 'im; and arter Smith 'adsaid "Hush!" to George Kettle three times, he up and put 'im outside forthe sake of the 'ouse.
When 'e came back it was all quiet and everybody was staring their'ardest at little Dicky Weed, the tailor, who was sitting with his headin his 'ands, thinking, and every now and then taking them away andlooking up at the ceiling, or else leaning forward with a start andlooking as if 'e saw something crawling on the wall.
"Wot's the matter with you?" ses Mr. Smith.
Dicky Weed didn't answer 'im. He shut his eyes tight and then 'e jumpsup all of a sudden. "I've got it!" he says. "Where's that bag?"
"Wot bag?" ses Mr. Smith, staring at 'im. "The bag with the papers in,"ses Dicky.
"Where Bob Pretty ought to be," ses Bill Chambers. "On the fire."
"Wot?" screams Dicky Weed. "Now you've been and spoilt everything!"
"Speak English," ses Bill.
"I will!" ses Dicky, trembling all over with temper. "Who asked you toput it on the fire? Who asked you to put yourself forward? I see it allnow, and it's too late."
"Wot's too late?" ses Sam Tones.
"When Bob Pretty put his 'and in that bag," ses Dicky Weed, holding up'is finger and looking at them, "he'd got a bit o' paper already in it--abit o' paper with the figger I on it. That's 'ow he done it. While wewas all watching Mr. Smith, he was getting 'is own bit o' paper ready."
He 'ad to say it three times afore they understood 'im, and then theywent down on their knees and burnt their fingers picking up bits o' paperthat 'ad fallen in the fireplace. They found six pieces in all, but notone with the number they was looking for on it, and then they all got upand said wot ought to be done to Bob Pretty.
"You can't do anything," ses Smith, the landlord. "You can't prove it.After all, it's only Dicky's idea."
Arf-a-dozen of 'em all began speaking at once, but Bill Chambers gave 'emthe wink, and pretended to agree with 'im.
"We're going to have that hamper back," he ses, as soon as Mr. Smith 'adgone back to the bar, "but it won't do to let 'im know. He don't like tothink that Bob Pretty was one too many for 'im."
"Let's all go to Bob Pretty's and take it," ses Peter Gubbins, wot 'adbeen in the Militia.
Dicky Weed shook his 'ead. "He'd 'ave the lor on us for robbery," heses; "there's nothing he'd like better."
They talked it over till closing-time, but nobody seemed to know wot todo, and they stood outside in the bitter cold for over arf an hour stilltrying to make up their minds 'ow to get that hamper back. Fust one wentoff 'ome and then another, and at last, when there was on'y three or fourof 'em left, Henery Walker, wot prided himself on 'is artfulness, 'ad anidea.
"One of us must get Bob Pretty up 'ere to-morrow night and stand 'im apint, or p'r'aps two pints," he ses. "While he's here two other chapsmust 'ave a row close by his 'ouse and pretend to fight. Mrs. Pretty andthe young 'uns are sure to run out to look at it, and while they are outanother chap can go in quiet-like and get the hamper."
It seemed a wunnerful good idea, and Bill Chambers said so; and 'eflattered Henery Walker up until Henery didn't know where to look, as thesaying is.
"And wot's to be done with the hamper when we've got it?" ses Sam Jones.
"Have it drawed for agin," ses Henery. "It'll 'ave to be done on thequiet, o' course."
Sam Jones stood thinking for a bit. "Burn the hamper and draw lots foreverything separate," 'e ses, very slow. "If Bob Pretty ses it's 'isturkey and goose and spirits, tell 'im to prove it. We sha'n't knownothing about it."
Henery Walker said it was a good plan; and arter talking it over theywalked 'ome all very pleased with theirselves. They talked it over nextday with the other chaps; and Henery Walker said arterwards that p'r'apsit was talked over a bit too much.
It took 'em some time to make up their minds about it, but at last it wassettled that Peter Gubbins was to stand Bob Pretty the beer; Ted Brown,who was well known for his 'ot temper, and Joe Smith was to 'ave thequarrel; and Henery Walker was to slip in and steal the hamper, and 'idethe things up at his place.
Bob Pretty fell into the trap at once. He was standing at 'is gate inthe dark, next day, smoking a pipe, when Peter Gubbins passed, and Peter,arter stopping and asking 'im for a light, spoke about 'is luck ingetting the hamper, and told 'im he didn't bear no malice for it.
"You 'ad the pluck to draw fust," he ses, "and you won."
Bob Pretty said he was a Briton, and arter a little more talk Peter asked'im to go and 'ave a pint with 'im to show that there was no ill-feeling.They came into this 'ere Cauliflower public-'ouse like brothers, and inless than ten minutes everybody was making as much fuss o' Bob Pretty asif 'e'd been the best man in Claybury.
"Arter all, a man can't 'elp winning a prize," ses Bill Chambers, lookinground.
"I couldn't," ses Bob.
He sat down and 'elped hisself out o' Sam Jones's baccy-box; and one ortwo got up on the quiet and went outside to listen to wot was going ondown the road. Everybody was wondering wot was happening, and when BobPretty got up and said 'e must be going, Bill Chambers caught 'old of himby the coat and asked 'im to have arf a pint with 'im.
Bob had the arf-pint, and arter that another one with Sam Jones, and then'e said 'e really must be going, as his wife was expecting 'im. Hepushed Bill Chambers's 'at over his eyes--a thing Bill can't abear--andarter filling 'is pipe agin from Sam Jones's box he got up and went.
"Mind you," ses Bill Chambers, looking round, "if 'e comes back and sessomebody 'as taken his hamper, nobody knows nothing about it."
"I 'ope Henery Walker 'as got it all right," ses Dicky Weed. "When shallwe know?"
"He'll come up 'ere and tell us," ses Bill Chambers. "It's time 'e washere, a'most."
Five minutes arterwards the door opened and Henery Walker came staggeringin. He was as white as a sheet, his 'at was knocked on one side of his'ead, and there was two or three nasty-looking scratches on 'is cheek.He came straight to Bill Chambers's mug--wot 'ad just been filled--andemptied it, and then 'e sat down on a seat gasping for breath.
"The door opened and Henery Walker came staggering in."]
"Wots the matter, Henery?" ses Bill, staring at 'im with 'is mouth open.
Henery Walker groaned and shook his 'ead. "Didn't you get the hamper?"ses Bill, turning pale. Henery Walker shook his 'ead agin.
"Shut up!" he ses, as Bill Chambers started finding fault. "I done thebest I could. Nothing