Washington standard. [volume] (Olympia, Wash. Territory) 1860-1921, 1907-12-06

sNes'A ~ ehS hoot thIuE tIldl we EutuIu
NEEDLE with. We wouldn't have done
1t once, and we won't now" His tenn
perate tone surprised himself. but Il
merely showed how every scnsibility
had lost its edge. Two months ago he
would have argued such point with
his ready hands.
Meanwhile the reader had decided
not to fight. being an insufficient num-
Der of inches bigger and broader than
Tom and having still in his ears the
thud with which the scourger fell.
But neither was he going to give in
like a man, because fnen were scarce
In those heavy irons. Accordingly he
retained the letter a little longer be-
fore handing 1t to Tom, with mock
ing bow.
I'VE won't, won't WEI" he sneered.
well. as it 'appens, we won't. for
more Of that rot couldn't read If
was paid. But you look out, my spe-
ciall If you've come ere to give your
self airs, We'll soon learn ye. It's lucky
for you I'm In such good temper or
you'd have gone off this table bit diff
ACiNhSs sou biAShtGo souhe upStuit.
Tom had In fact taken his chains in
his hands and jumped off. 1t was
when he was on the ground, with his
back turned. that the direct abuse wns
hurled. Others sided with the speaker
and added their maledlctfOns to his,
yet the group about Butter for SO the
poor lad was called dispersed Mt Toms
oyx Jo ha To
its writer with look that might have
made his guardian angel dry her tears.
for after many days there was kind
ness In his eyes once more.
"uere, Butter" he said; take 1t. and
| for Gods sake not a word! You're a
better man than am or you wouldn't
have written ut all. There. shut up!
Gratitude, forsooth! If you must show
some, don't set me thinking"
| But the lads emotions were aroused
too thoroughly to be soon allayed.
They had tho corner now to them
selves. md he was crying like q girl.
Tom envicd him his tears.
"Read it through" sobbed the young
fellow, forcing the torn letter upon his
champion, and to please him Tom pc
rused 1t from beginning to end.
Awhile ago 1t would have made him
laugh and cry; now he read 1t unmOved
save by his own Indifference. It con-
tanned a touching lie, describing the
writer rs being still very happy with
the master who months since had sent
him to tho iron gang. The rest was
wondrous cumberland l inform you
that snaiks is very bad in this country.
| We ofttimes see them fourteen to if
teen feet long. Parrots Is Us thick rs
crows in your country, kangaroos, too,
and 1t Is night here when 1t Is day
there, but Arthur Smith, do not know
where he Is. Mutton is i'd. h., beef
But he had written no farther, and
Tom said: THANK you. Butter. 1t
should mako them happy" as he re-
turned the letter. He felt that he
ought to be touched, and he was not.
His heart seemed turned to stone when
suddenly he felt 1t quicken.
The lad had simply said, "My name
] isn't Butter: It's Butterfield."
a Yorkshireman? You talk like
onew cried Tom. with most painful
fash OF memory. Once more he was
a lucky, hopeful. penitent sinner in a
sweet smelling wagon on a night in
spring. with Blaydes' watch ticking no
warning in his pocket md with vivid
mental picture of Blaydes himself smil-
Ing wistfully across the stile. beside
which he was even then lying dead.
AYE" said young Butterfeld, poor
ed Yorkshire! l doubt I'll ever see n
again. My folks have left there en-
ALL"
Tom hnd more flashes. He was get
ting used to them now.
"Where did they move tot"
"a little place they call Hendon.
an 1t was me that drove 'em there by
getting into trouble! oh. 1t was me
disgraced them all and drove them
nwayw
Tom let him talk, but said little more
In return. It was Jonathan Butter
fields son. How 1t brought all that
back to him! True, 1t was not a year
ago. but II seemed lifetime. 1t was
terrible to think Of the little time and
the stupendous change Tom Erichsen
saw himself as he had been and as he
was, and the mental vision hurt him
more than the material one which the
stockade barber had shown him In q
glass. He could not tell Butterfleld
that he had known his father. Nothing
was to be gained by telling him. 1t
would lead to his telling more, and how
could he speak of things of which tho
mere thought was become torture so
refined and so exquisite1
His eighteen inches were a very rack
that night. He was thinking of Claire
for the first time In many weeks. She
would hold him guilty still. How could
she do otherwise2 His sweet friend
held him guilty when he was innocent,
and his enemy. the major, held him in
noccnt when guilty. Oh, the irony,
the bitter irony, that had made worse
man of him when he was bad enough
already! All the foul night he lay toss
Ing in his noisy chains. His wild eyes
were never closed. Yet once the
thought stole over him, had he been
worthy Of Claire when she loved him
would all this ever have been? And
after that he lay quieter-hls heart
knew why.
| TTa 1n I