Ottumwa semi-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1899-1903, 1899-12-21

"'Chasten thy son while there is
hope" said Bonaparte, "'and let not
thy soul spare for his crying Those
are Gods words. shall act as fa-
Their to you, Waldo. think we had
better have your naked back"
He took out his penknife and slit the
shirt down from the shoulder to the
waist.
Now" said Bonaparte, 81 hope the
Lord will bless and sanctify to you
what am going to do to you"
The first cut ran from the shoulder
across the middle of the back. The
second fell exactly in the same place.
A shudder passed through the boys
frame.
Mice, ehY' said Bonaparte, peepine
round into his face, speaking with a
lisp, as though to q very little child.
NTH, eh?''
But the eyes were black and luster-
less and seemed not to see him. When
he had given 16, Bonaparte paused in
his work to wipe a little drop of blood
from his whip.
"Cold. Ell? What makes you SILVER
80? Perhaps you would like to pull up
your shirt? But I've not quite done
yet"
When he had finished, he wiped the
whip again and put it back in his
pocket. he cut the rope through with
his penknife and then took up the
light.
You don't seem to have found your
tongue yet. Forgotten how to cry?"
said Bonaparte, patting him on the
cheek.
The boy looked up at him, not sui
lenly, not angrily. There was wild,
fitful terror in the eyes. Bonaparte
made haste to go out and shut the door
and leave him alone in the darkness.
He himself was afraid of that look.
1t was almost morning. Waldo lay
with his face upon the ground at the
foot of the fuel heap. There was n
round hole near the top of the door
where knot Of wood had fallen out,
and a stream of gray light came in
through it.
All, 1t was going to end at last! Moth
ing lasts forever, not even the night
How was 1t he had never thought Of
that before? For in all that long dark
night he had been very strong, had
never been tired, never felt pain, had
run on and on, up and down, up and
down. He had not dared to stand still,
and he had not known it would end
He had been SO strong that when he
struck his head with all his force upon
the stone wall it did not stun him nor
pain him, only made him laugh. That
was a dreadful night. When he clasp
ed his hands frantically and prayed,
30 God, my beautiful God. my sweet
God, once, only once, let me feel you
near me tonight he could not feel
him. He prayed aloud, very loud, and
he got no answer. When he listened,
1T was all quite quiet. like when the
priests Of Baal cried aloud to their god,
80 Baal. hear us; o Baal, hear us!"
but Baal was gone a-hunting.
That was long, wild night, and wild
thoughts came and went in it; but they
left their marks behind them forever;
for, as years cannot pass without
leaving their traces behind them, nei-
Their can nights into which are forced
the thoughts and sufferings Of years
And now the dawn was coming, and ut
last he was very tired. He shivered
and tried to draw the shirt up over his
shoulders. They were getting stiff. He
had never known they We're cut in the
night. He looked up at the white light
that came in through the hole at the
top of the door and shuddered. Then
he turned his face back to the ground
and slept again.
Some hours later Bonaparte came to-
ward the fuel house with lump of
bread in his hand. He opened the door
and peered In. then entered and touch
ed the fellow with his boot. Seeing that
he breathed heavily, though he did not
rouse, Bonaparte threw the bread
down on the ground. He was alive.
That was one thing. He bent over
him and carefully scratched open one
of the cuts with the nail of his fore
finger, examining with much interest
his last nights work. He would have
to count his sheep himself that day.
The boy was literally cut up. He lock-
ed the door and went away again.
ooh. Lyndall." said En-, entering the
dining room and bathed in tears that
afternoon, II have been begging Bona
parte to let him out. and he won't"