The Billings gazette. [volume] (Billings, Mont.) 1896-1919, 1899-05-19
4 REVENGE PLOT THAT FAILED.
Harry, dear, don't go

Harry, uedI, uOu / go.
81 must, Cis. Beggars cant b.
choosers," I answered bitterly. "Afte'
all, dearest girl, it will be only for {
few months
"A year, I'm afraid. Harry. from
what father says.
''Well, since he has found me this
work l mustn't shirk it. Goodby. my
own girl"
What misery does poverty entail on
loving hearts! Cicely Fleming and l
had loved one another for years-eve
since. indeed, we were children togeth-
er. I had spent the few hundreds my
father left me in completing my engi-
neering education in Germany. Then /
came home, confident of finding work.
But nothing came my way in spite of
every endeavor. At last Mr.. Fleming's
interest procured me a place as assistant
engineer in building a new lighthouse
on the dangerous island of Skryn, off
the west coast of Ireland.
I parted with Cts on a Tuesday. Fri
day morning found me on the small
sailing craft which was the only means
Of communication between Skryn and
the mainland.
Soon we landed, and I waded ashore
and walked up the steep path to the top
of the cliff.
AS l reached the summit a nan met
me, and, holding out his hand, said:
"Good morning! You're Mr.. Brydon.
/ suppose? I'm Gallant"
He was not so i'll looking-at least as
far as features went. It was not till
later that I discovered the peculiar re-
pulsion he inspired me with was due to
his eyes. These were extraordinarily
dark and piercing, but across the iris
Of one was a remarkable pale yellow
mark which, combined with a very
slight squint. gave him an absolutely
uncanny appearance.
Next day I was up betimes, boiled
my big kettle, made my coffee and was
out on the reef before Callan was visi.
BILE. The men were already at work. l
spoke to them. but either they could
not or would not talk. Presently Callan
came out, scrambling along the reef.
What a burly brute he looked in the
clear morning sunlight! He spoke to
the men with extraordinary roughness.
They evidently feared him, and. l o
saw, hated him too.
This puzzled me till I knew him bet
ter. But a very few days opened my
eyes. If ever there lived a man without
one grain of pity in his composition, it
was Eugene Callan. He seemed to take
an absolute delight in cruelty for cruel
tvs sake. There was a boy called Bar
ney McKeown who acted as servant to
Callan. The way Callan bullied that
unfortunate boy was appalling. l Won
dered how the others could see such
things happening.
A few weeks later we had a storm
which stopped all work. nrt.
! sat in my hut reading most of the
day and listening to the gusts that
roared at times like thunder. Once or
twice I fancied a shriller sound mingled
with the gale.
Late in the afternoon it lulled a lit
tie, and suddenly there came, distinct
and clear to my ears, a scream of pain.
l sprang up and listened. Again and
again the cry sounded out. 1t was from
Callan's hut it came.
l sprang up, rushed across and flung
open the door. The sight that met my
eyes made me blaze with anger. Strip
ped to the waist and writhing with
pain, the wretched McKeown was tied
to the head Of Callan's bed, while over
him stood the big black bully, lashing
him with a ropes end.
whats this for" I cried.
Callan turned his crooked gaze on me.
ITO teach the young hound obedi-
ence!' His voice grated with rage at
my interruption. "And what business
is it of yours, Mr. Pry?'
l fancied for an instant he was going
for me. But l was much too angry to
think of consequences.
"You're an internal bully !" l shout
ed. "And if you don't chuck it l can't
make you. but I'll COR let our employ
ers know"
The bully was a coward-that l
knew. But he could have killed me
with one hand. So my relief was con-
siderable when he suddenly threw
down the ropes end. l united Nc
Keown, and, pushing him before me,
left the hut.
But a kissing whisper followed me:
"An right, young man, your turn
now. But you'll pay for it,"
One day letters came across from the
mainland-one from Cts and n in an
unknown hand.
CHS letter, of course, I read first.
Then tore open the other and SKINNED
it through.
Only by slow degrees did I realize it's
import. My mothers uncle, old Sir
Bernard Child, had died and left me
everything. Why, I had never seen
him, hardly imagined that he was
aware Of my existence. I walked out,
and, still in a dazed condition, called
McKeown to pull me across to the
Then I bolted up to the viii