The Somerset reporter., 1899-06-01
A REVENGE PLOT THAT FAILED.

Harry. dear. don't 90.

Harry dear, don GO
~ must, Cis Beggars cant be
choosers, | answered bitterly After
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 | mustn't shirk it Goodby, my
own girl.
What misery does poverty entail on
loving hearts Cicely Fleming and |
had loved one another for years--ever
since. indeed, we were children togeth-
er. 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 3
interest procured me place rs assistant
engineer in building new lighthouse
on the dangerous island of Skryn, off
the west coast of Ireland.
parted with Cts on Tuesday. Fri
day morning found me on tho small
sailing craft which was the only means
Of communication between Skryn and
the mainland.
Soon we landed and | waded ashore
and walked up the steep path to the top
of the cliff
As | reached the summit a man met
me, and, holding out his hand, said
Good morning You re Mr., Brydon
| suppose I'm Callanl
He was not so i'll looking-at least as
far as features went. 1t was not till
later that | 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 | was up betimes, Rolled
my big kettle, made my coffee and was
out on the reef before Callan was visi-
BILE. The men were already at work. |
spoke to them, but either they could
not or would not talk Presently Callan
came out, scrambling along the reef
What burly brute he looked in the
clear morning sunlight He spoke to
the men with extraordinary roughness.
They evidently feared him, and, l soon
saw, hated him too.
This puzzled me till knew him bet
ter But a very few days opened my
eyes If ever there lived man without
one grain of pity in his composition, it
was Eugene Callan. He seemed to take
an absolute delight in cruelty tor cruel
ty 5 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 conld see such
things happening.
A few weeks later we had a storm
which stopped all work,
sat in my Init reading most Of the
day and listening to the gusts that
roared at times like thunder Once or
twice | fancied shriler sound mingled
with the gale.
Late in the afternoon it lulled lit
tie. and suddenly there came. distinct
and clear to my ears, a scream Of pain.
sprang up and listened Again and
again the cry sounded ont 1t WAS from
Callan hut it came
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 writing with
pain, the wretched McKeown WAS tied
to the head of CallaE bed, while over
him stood the big black bully flashing
him with a ropes end
Whats this fcrF' | cried
Callan turned his crooked gaze on me
"To teach the young hound ubedi
ence!' His voice grated with rage at
my interruption. and what business
is it of yours. Mr.. Pry p
| fancied for an instant he was going
for me But was much too angry to
think of consequences.
"You re an internal bully" | shout
ed. And if You don't chuck it | cant
make you, but III soon let our employ
ers know.
The bully was a coward THAT
knew But he could have killed me
with one hand. So my relief was CON
siderable when he suddenly threw
down tho ropais end | untiad No