Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917, 1906-05-25

and, II so fortunate as to penetrate the
desert Of scrub, heath and swamp which
lay between their prison and the settled
districts, preferred death to recapture.
Successfully to transport the remnant of
this desperate band of doubly convicted
felons to Arthur's new prison was the
mission of Maurice Frere
''Well, Mrs. Vickers," he said, az he
took cup of tea from the hands Of that
lady, II suppose you won't be sorry to
get away from this place, eh2"
mo, indeed" says poor Mrs. Vlck-
erR, with the old girlishness Swallowed
by six years; 81 shall be only too glad.
A dreadful place! Johns duties, how
ever, are imperative. But the windl Ny
dear Mr.. Frere, you've no idea Of It;
l wanted to send Sylvia to Hobart Town,
but John would not let her CO."
"By the way, how is Miss Sylvia p
asked Frere, with the patronizing air
which men of his stamp adopt when they
speak of children.
Not very WELL I'm sorry to say" re-
turned Vickers. You see, it's lonely
for her here. There are no children Of
her own age, with the exception Of the
pilots little girl, and she cannot asso-
ciate with her. But l did not like to
leave her behind, and endeavored to
teach her myself"
Hum! There was a-ha-governess,
or something, was there mott" said
Frere, staring into his teacup. ''That
maid, you know-what dVas her nameT
Miss Purfoy,' said Mrs. Vickers, a
little gravely. Yes, poor thing; a sad
story, Mr.. Frere."
Indeed! left, you know, shortly
after the trial of the mutineers, and
never heard the full particulars" He
! spoke carelessly, but he awaited the re-
ply with keen curiosity.
"A sad storyr' repeated Mrs. Wick
ers. ''She was the wife of that wretch
ed man, Rex, and came out as mr. maid
in order to be near him. She would
never tell me her history, poor thing
though all through the dreadful accusa-
tons made by that horrid doctor, beg.
ged her almost on my knees. You know
how she nursed Sylvia and poor John.
Really most superior creature. think
she must have been a gOverness. Her
conduct was most exemplary, and dur
| ing the six months we were in Hobart
Town she taught little Sylvia great
deal. OF course she could not help her
wretched husband, you know. Could
she?"
Certainly mott" said Frere, heartily.
II heard something about him, too. Got
into some scrape, did he notY
Miss Purfoy, or Mrs. Rex, as she
really was though l don't suppose Rex
is her real name, either, came into a
| little legacy from an old aunt in Ding
land and left my service. She took IA
| little cottage on the New Town road,
and Rex was assigned to her as het
servant"
81 see. The old dodge" says Frere,
| flushing a little. "Well?'
well, the wretched man tried to es-
cape, and she helped him. He was to
get to Launceston, and so on board a
vessel to Sydney; but they took the
unhappy creature. and he was sent down
here. She was only fined, but it ruined
her. You see, only few people know
of her relationship to Rex, and she was
rather respected. OF course, when it be-
came known. what with that dreadful
trial and the horrible assertions of DR..
| Pine-you will not believe me, | know;
there was something about that man
never liked-she was quite left alone.
She wanted me to bring her down here
to teach Sylvia, but John thought that
it was only to be near her husband, and
wouldn't allow it."
"Of course it was" said Vickers, is
ing. "Frere, we'll go on the veranda.
| She will never be satisfied until she gets
that scoundrel free"
He's bad lot, then?" says Frere,
opening the glass window and feadlng
the way to the sandy garden.
"Oh, a very bad lot" returned Wick
ers quiet and Silent, but ready for any
villainy l count him one of the worst
men we have. With the exception of
one or two more, l think he is the
worst"
"Why don't you fog emp" says Frere.
81 cut the hides off my fellows if they
show any nonsense"
"Wen," says Vickers, Il don't care
about too much cat myself. Barton, wOh
was here before me, logged tremend-
ously, but don't thingk it did any good.
They tried to kill him several times.
You remember those twelve fellows who
were hanged? No! All, of course you
were away"
"What do you do with 'em"
"Oh, fog the worst, you know; but
don't fog more than a man week as
a rule, and never more than fifty lashes.
They're getting quieter now. Then we
iron, and. dumb-ells, and maroon them"
do what?"
"Give them solitary confinement on
Grummet Island. When a man gets
very bad, we clap him into a boat with
a weeks provisions, and pull him over
to Grummet. There are cells cut in the
rock, you see, and the fellow pulls up
his commissariat after him, and lives
there by himself for a month or so. 1t
tames them wonderfully"
docs it2" said Frere. Its a capital
notion. l wish 1 had a place of that