Lincoln County leader. [volume] (Toledo, Lincoln County, Or.) 1893-1987, 1906-06-08

laughs, the first one that he had indulg-
ed in since the mutiny. "You nurse
him! That's good onew The Door
little child, weak and excitable; felt the
contempt In the tone, and burst into a
passion of sobs. "Why do you insult
me, you wicked man? The poor fellows
i'll, and he'll-he'll die, like Mr.. Bates.
Oh, mamma, mamma, let's go away by
ourselves"
Frere walked away. He went into the
little wood under the cliff and sat down.
He was full of strange thoughts, which
he could not express, and which he had
never owned before The dislike the
child bore to him made him miserable,
and yet he took delight in tormenting
her. He was conscious that he had act
ed the part of coward the night be-
fore in endeavoring to frighten her, and
that the detestation she bore him was
well earned; but he had fully determined
to stake his life in her defense, should
the savage who had thus come upon
them out of the desert attempt violence.
and he was unreasonably angry at the
pity she had shown. When he got back
he found Dawes stretched upon the
brush wood, with Sylvia sitting near
him.
He Is better" said Mrs. Vickers, dis
daining to refer to the scene of the
morning. "Sit down and have something
to eat, Mr.. Frere."
Are you betterT asked Frere, abb
ruptly.
To his surprise, the convict answered
quite civilly, II shall be strong again in
day or two, and then 1 can help you,
SIR"
Within a week from the night on
which he had seen the smoke OF Frere's
hre, the convict had recovered his
strength, and had become an important
parsonage. He was skilled in all the
mysteries of the prison sheds. He knew
how to sustain life on as little food as
possible. He could fell trees without an
ak, bake bread without an oven, build
a weather-proof hut without bricks or
mortar From the patient he became
the adviser; and from the adviser, the
commander.
AS the time wore on, and the scanty
stock of provisions decreased, he found
that his authority grew more and more
powerful. Did a question arise as to the
Qualities of strange plant, it was Rufus
Dawes who could pronounce upon it.
Were fish to be caught, it was Rufus
dawes who caught them. Did Mrs.
'lckers complain of the instability of her
brush wood hut, it was Rufus Dawes
who worked a wicker shield, and, plas-
terlng 1t with clay, produced wall that
defied the keenest wind. He made CUPS
out OF pine knots, and plates out of bark
strips. He worked harder than any
three men. Nothing daunted him, moth
ing discouraged him. When Mrs. Vick-
ers fell sick, from anxiety, and inspfi-
Client food, 1t was Rufus Dawes who
gathered fresh leaves for her couch, who
cheered her by hopeful words, who vol
unfairly gave up half his own allowance
OF meat that she might grow the strong
er on it. The poor woman and her child
called him "Mr." Dawes,
But the days stole on and no vessel
appeared Each day they eagerly scam
ned the watery horizon; each day they
longed to behold the bowsprit of the re-
turning Ladybird glide past the jutting
rock that shut out the view of the har-
Dor, but In vain. Mrs. Vickers' Illness
increased, and the stock of provisions
began to run short. Dawes talked of
putting himself and Frere on half allow
ance. 1t was evident that, unless sue
cor came In a few days, they must
starve.
One day Sylvia was sitting in the sun
reading the English History" which,
by the accident of fright, she had
brought with her on the night of the
mutiny. "Mr. Frere," said she, sud-
denly, what is an alchemist2'
"a man who makes gold" was Frere's
not very accurate definition.
"Did the ancient Britons know itr
mo; not so old as that"
Sylvia suddenly gave a little scream.
The remembrance Of the evening when
she read about the ancient Britons to
poor Bates came vividly into her mind
and though she had since re-read the
passage that had then attracted her at
tention hundred times, it had never
before presented itself to her In its full
significance. Hurriedly turning the
well-thumbed leaves, she read aloud the
passage which had provoked remark:
"The ancient Britons were little bet
ter than barbarians. They painted their
bodies with woad, and, seated in their
light coracles of skin stretched upon
slender wooden frames, must have pre-
sented a wild and savage appearance"
"a coracle! That's boat! Can't we
make a coracle, Mr.. Dawes"
The convict knitted his brows gloom
lily.
Come, Dawesw cried Frere, forget
ting his enmity for an instant, In the
flash Of new hope, cant you suggest
somethingw
Rufus Dawes, thus appealed to as the
acknowledged head Of the little society,
felt pleasant thrill of self-satsfacton.
Il don't know" he said 81 must think
of it. 1t looks easy, and vat" He
nanspd q q hincr In tho -ato- 4