Gilpin observer., 1911-04-06
The Brute and
the Man
By GEORGE cARLINc

When James Schofield. farmer and
dairyman, drove home from Denton's
Corners that night, he was unques-
cal when he left his companions at
the village tavern, he became after
the first mile tearfully sentimental;
muttering much to himself about a
certain comrade of his boyhood days.
long since deceased.
During the third and last mile. his
hungry and eager horse had plunged
recklessly over the muddy. uneven
road. and Mr.. Schofield, after extricat.
ing himself several times from among
the milk cans in the wagon, had be-
came pugnacious and aggressive.
When he reached his door yard he
was fighting drunk.
With many curses and kicks he had
ushered his unlucky horse into its
held readily open for him; had or
dered her to pull off his boots. and
had sworn with vigor and originality
at the supper which had been held
in readiness for five hours.
Finally, exasperated at finding no
available fighting material. he had
struck the little woman a cruelty saw
age blow-felling her to the floor
and had answered her one piteous
moan with a comprehensive, though
somewhat incoherent. lecture on the
duties of wife and her obligations
to love, honor and obey.
Then he stumbled into the side bed
room and flung himself down without
wasting any precious moments in dis
robing. Five minutes later his heavy
breathing indicated his perfect OBJ
livion of all matrimonial trials.
The girl (she was scarcely more)
raised her head. There were no
tears. nor sobs, but there was tiny
stream of blood trickling from a cruel
cut in her cheek and little pool on
the floor where she had lain.
She raised herself wearily to her
feet, and staggering to a chair buried
her face in her apron-and so sat.
Observation-Disclosures and silent.
Presently she arose-took the lamp
from the table. and stepping to the
looking glass by the window. exam
ined her wounded face.
Three years before no sweeter.
gentle eyes-no merrier dimples
around such smiling mouth had
been reflected from any mirror in the
township. Even an hour before one
would have had to search far for its
equal-the pathos of suffering. Of un-
told anguish. had as yet but changed
the quality of its prettiness.
At this instant, however, she. her.
self. was startled at the reflection.
She had never seen that face before!
those hard. set. resentful eyes
those tightly compressed lips-that
resolute mouth. She had never seen
these, although two or three times be-
fore she had looked upon a grievously
Scared face. But she remembered
now. almost with little wonderment
that she had already decided how she
should meet this neat assault when 1t
came. She had dismissed, with a bit
ter laugh-almost sneer-the
thought of appealing to the law-that
abortive. rusty engine of justice and
correction. which fines drunken
slugger and then sends him back to
his wife, to exact bitter reprisal for
her complaint.
No! her remedy was to be more
effective and lasting; bringing COM
fort and safety to herself and fair
punishment to the Brute.
Lighting lantern she went to the
stable. hearing. as she expected, the
eager whinnying of the unfed horse
She threw the welcome oats into the
Ihanger, speaking few caressing
words as she rubbed rough cloth
over the grateful animals wet back.
Then climbing to the loft she threw
down liberal supply Of hay-leaned
her cheek against his for moment
and went back to the house. picking
up at the wood pile heavy hatchet
Cautiously entering the room where
the Brute lay in his drunken stupor.
she put on dark. serviceable dress
her best-collected small quantity
of extra clothing and some little
trinkets. bringing them into the kitch.
en-. where she packed them into a
rusty travelling bag.
Outside, a steady. drizzling rain
was falling. and she thought of the
miles of muddy road before her.
Packing her shoes in the bag, she
pulled on pair Of rubber boots
knee-high and confidence-inspirinp
Then she smeared the hatchet with
blood from the pool on the floor. and
clipping of a few ends of her bright
brown hair she sprinkled them on the
tool Next she rolled up her blood.
stained apron into a tight bundle. and
again taking the lantern went out and
threw the hatchet into thicket OF
brush near by. The apron she stuffed
behind beam in the woodhouse.
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