Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1907-10-24

Hither was Tom taken by n Of his |
fellows on an early Sunday evening. |
HALF a dozen others were there before
them. Not n of these were sober
when they arrived. And the strong
fumes tempted Tom. %Smoldering mis-.
cry was In flames at this chance Of
1t for the nonce. He might
have followed suit had not his COM
produced a screw hammer in
payment for the liquor. Tom glanced
at the implement and then at his mate.
you're never going to pay with that,
Mac?"
can what for no?"
"There's the farm brand staring you
In the face! 1t isn't yours"
whats ABBOTT it? If a man mayn't
blk the coves, wha may he blk? They
gle US nae wages for our work, so we
maun help oursels!"
And as this was the principle of all
present and indeed Of the average con-
Wet throughout the colony, honest Tom
had no choice but to turn on his heel
and walk away amid the excavations
of his fellows. But not a hand was
raised against him. He had still the
eye and the bearing that discourage a
blow. Even the elder Sullivan had
given up tapping and rapping him
with that bamboo wand which was
forever %quickenlng felon fingers and
sowing black murder in felon hearts.
Put the incident Of the screw ham,
mer made an unpopular man Of Tom
among his fellows, and worse was to
come Of it. The theft was brought
home to the man Macbeth, and the
very next night Tom met him with a
white, pinched face and his coat on
back to front.
"Why, Mac!w cried Tom. "What
now?"
The foulest maledictions were his
only answer, a white lip quiverin.
with the words.
"What on earth have 1 done"
"You ken weel. This, thenw
He turned his back, and Tom started
back with horror. The shirt beneath
the open coat was sopping red.
In vain Tom protested that he had
never told a soul about the hammer.
Nobody would believe him. His in
dignation and his sympathy were treat
ed with scorn as so much hypocrisy.
His name was execrated in the con-
Wet huts, and SO much Of the convict
spirit survived in Ginger that he was
with the men In this and never spoke
to Tom now. The overseer besides
shared Nat Sullivan's grievance against
Tom. A furtive admiration for the girl
O'Brien was one of his softer traits,
and she was the same to neither of
them now.
At the end Of a month the groom's
truest friend was the terrific old doctor
himself. Peggy was his friend indeed;
but, though her gray eyes watched him
wistfully enough from the window, he
seldom heard her full, rich brogue. Nor
was it consideration for the girl that
made Tom deny himself that small
consolation. Young Sullivan had for
hidden him the house and was suffi
GENTLY his enemy as 1t was. Indeed,
the groom discovered he was becoming
a bone Of contention between father
and son.
The son wanted to have him turned
out of the stables and put to Telling
timber. The father would not hear of
it.
The father granted him the usual
good conduct indulgences of tea, sugar
and tobacco, in addition to the regula-
ton rations. The son laid himself out
to catch Tom smoking at night and at
once put q stop to the tobacco.
Then zane the very hottest day of
the summer, for which the son had
waited. He had brought from Sydney
on the pack horse a quantity of new
harness. saddles, brides and the like,
and he made the groom devote the very
hottest day to seasoning the brand new
leather with castor oil, to be rubbed
into every inch of it in the sitting
heat Of the little saddle room. When
Tom was finishing, nauseated with the
smell, swollen with mosquito bites and
in streams of perspiration from head
to foot, Mr. Nat came in and patiently
ragged at him. But even this did not
compass the destruction of Toms skin.
He perceived the design and defeated
It with imperturbable civility.
ME-. Nat was driven into deeper plots.
He had never been bested by a convict
yet. And now at last Tom read re
venge in the %jaundiced eyes, but re-
veuge for what? He felt more mysti-
fed than afraid. All he had to do was
to keep his temper, but what had he
done? To nobody On the farm had he
breathed a word about aught that hap
pened in Sydney Or on the road. He
never ventured within the palisade.
What, then, was his ofense?
One night as he lay puzzling his head
about it and yet half asleep, a sound
startled him.
1t came from the saddle room next
door. Tom sat up in his bunk.
The sound was very thin and wholly
metallic, as the scraping of a dinner
kntfe between the prongs of q fork.
Suddenly q bolt shot back, with a little
siH1As