, 1897-09-20
THE CONVICT.

So he had escaped. AT last he was
free. Free! What a fine. brave word it
was! He had never grasped its mean
ing to the full till now. Yes. he was
'ree-really free. See! he could walk
to the tree yonder, and there was no
warned to stop him. He could love his
arm thus; or turn his head this way or
that way: or he might shout. yell. or
whisper, as he chose; or he might think
-ah! but before he might think, but
then his thoughts burned him. And they
gave him a fear-a frightful fear OF the
thought OF the next moment. Now they
lifted him! He felt an exaltation. How
fine 1t was!
The sun shone thrillingly.
He was warmed and soothed. Though
he were a Cain and an Ishmael. he had
a friend-the light OF God.
He sat down upon a log to rest for a
little while. Not that he was weary.
though he had been running and walk
ing through many hours. Weary? He
smiled as he thought Of it. How could
he feel weary with this fine feeling OF
freedom upon him? Why. it was as il
he were treading on air. For years he
had been Gagged up and made to work
face. and flogged with the heavy whip
on the back. for just nothing at all. He
couldn't remember the number OF times
he had been flogged. How the whip
used to swish as it was coming down.
down upon his naked back! And the
horrible. fiendish pain! 1t was as II q
great pan Of melted metal were being
poured out upon his bare hack and
shoulders.
Weary? Why, he could have gone on
till Doomsday cracked.
But he wanted to think a little as to
where he was going and what ne was 90
ing to do. He vas here in this great
forest without any Earrings. He had no
plan. for there was nothing to plan from.
He had escaped at once and without hes
i~tation. as the wild beast escapes.
From his left leg was hanging a piece
OF an ankle chain. which ne had broken
with a stone just before he had sprung
upon the warder. Ryan, and plunged the
knife full into his throat. How fine it
was to kill him! How fine It was to
turn the knife downward to the right
and spit through his collar-bone! Oh,
1t was good! He was glad. And as ne
was running away he had turned his
head and seen him writhing on the
stones. How the blood was squirting!
No. Al had avenged many fioggings and
blows.
He was not a man. he was only a num-
Der. only an it-an it for spite to be
vented upon. to be flogged to be starry
ed, to be strucR%rom which the SEM
glance Of the Maker was crushed. Aye.
this miserable being, that had once been
a man. was only a thing, a poor. poor
thing-or, rather. only the number Of a
thing.
But the fine sunlight fell softly and
Kindly upon him FOR all that.
How long he had been sitting upon
the log he could not have told. 1t might
have been hours or minutes. But all at
once a plan was working in his mind.
It was as II some one else had suddenly
forced 1t upon him. Oh! 1t was , fine
plaza wild and daring plan. but still
a good plan. He laughed to himself.
Now ne was safe.
He stood up and looked toward an
orening in the trees. That was a good
place to begin from. he thought and then
he could-and then he could But
what?
But now 1t had all gone from him.
He could not remember it He looked
around blankly. What was the matter
with him?
Suddenly he bent down to listen. The
~blood-hounds! He q done for, sure
enough! They were giving tongue as
they hunted arunnd for his tINil. A rum
!. ming otream must have broken the scent
k It He had thought a the