The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1879-11-18
THE DAUGHTER OF THE
DARK.

"Ohl master, what shall we do2 and
missus bad, and all the lights of London
out. and all the trains stopped"
"Hush, Emily, hush, my good girl!
I'll make it all right. I'll call cab.
We shall 60 home by cab" He then
goes out Of the station into the sation-
yard. No cab! They pass into the road
way. He puts his hands to his mouth
trumpetwise and shouts:
"Hansom- om-Fourwheeler." There is
not soul in view, not football in his
ears. "My Godr" he cries, II have for
gotten the cabs have struck tool"
ooh! master, what will become of us?
Can't we Lake the bus or tramf'
"Girl, they have all struck-al the
men who drive for hire in London. Come,
there is nothing for it but to walk"
"Oh! we shall never get home," cries
the girl, "and missus will be dead of
fright. Couldn't you sent message to
her, sir? Couldn't you send telegram?
We can't be home for better than an
hour. She'll be dead with fright"
He pauses to think moment; he puts
his hand to his head again, and tries to
think. At length he whispers in the
girls ear
"No, ! can't telegraph; Pm not sure
that the Camerwell Office is open so late; !;
anyway, there's no one in any telegraph
office in London now. They, like the
engine-drivers and cab-drivers, are all
gone too. Come let us walk"
The girl means and clings to him,
and they walk on towards Blackfriars
Bridge. He is unsteady, and she is weak
from terror; as they enter upon the
bridge she feels it will take them hours
to get home. She is afraid to leave him.
and yet, in her faithful pity for the wife
of the man, she would risk anything to
send news of him to her.
Master, couldn't we get some one to
run on and say we are safe? 1t would
be so good for missus to know; then we
could take our time and go home at our
ease."
He has forgotten his own precautions
about the candles He sees something in
what she says, But where are they to
get messenger? The place is quite de-
serted; they are now about halfway
over the bridge. He hears men talking
across the way; he can not see any one,
but he hears the voices. He tells her to
wait where she is and he will try to get
a messenger among the men over the
way.
He crosses, and finds three men in one
of the recesses. They are close together.
"Will one of you run out to my place
in Shakespeare Road, Herne Hill, as fast
as you can, with messageY
"How much will you giveT asks a
gruff, harsh voice.
"Half-a-crown."
"Not good enough; we're on strike too
amt we, pals% This evidently regarded
as a fine stroke of wit, for all laugh loud
ly. That laugh tears harshly through
the mortal stiffness of the hour. There
is no sound of vehicle, or of steamer
gine, or of footsteps; nothing disturbs
the mufiling pail of silence but the lap
ping river on the Surry shore, the faint,
weird whispers the water makes around
the piers of the bridge, and this odiou-
laugh Of three unseen men.
"Well, half-sovereign if you do it ii
three-quariers of an hour" answers
Michael Crane, who, considering all ht
has done for men, thinks it hard that ht
should be obliged tohaggle with them as
to price.
''Show us the time and your money!
says the biggest of the three men. Mich
ael Crane can now see the outline Of
the upper portions of the figures of the
three men against the sky.
"Here are wax matches" says Michae
Crane; "strike one."
One of the men, not the tallest, strikes
match, and, shading it in his hat, holds
it inside the parapet. Michael Crane
pulls the bag out Of his trousers pocket
opens it, pours the gold into hi
hand; and, having selected half-a
sovereign, returns the rest OF thu
gold to the bag, and then th'
bag to his pocket. Holding up the half
sovereign between his finger and thumb
in the light of the match, he says:
"Wil that satisfy you? Now shal
show you the time"
"Thank you," said the tallest of th'
three men, taking the half-sovereign
"this will do on no account; but wei
find the time ourselves. We're on strik
too'-the match is out-"thats speci
men of our strike"
Michael Crane reels beneath blow
and sufocates beneath the pressure of al
arm drawn violently around his neck
He feels tug at his watch-chain and
tear at the pocket where he has put th
gold; then he becomes unconscious.
"He amt dead?"
"No."
"What'll we do with him?"
"Shy him over. He don't deserve t.
live. Took us for honest working men
damned if he didn't Shy him over,
saw He took us for honest working
men, SO | say he don't deserve to live
and shy him over" ..
"Give him one chance-shy him clea
Of the bridge"
"Well, I'm agreeable. One chance
Shy him clear. One, two, three-nowF
Cnloch ehoh