Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1912-06-04

What did the director mean Wnen ne
said he would give me something, no
prisoner ever had before"
He tried to find an answer to this
question for days, weeks and months.
He thought of all the things not to be
found in a prison. A looking glass?
He had not seen his own image for
years: but prison life had made him
lose every trace Of vanity.
A flower? There had been n time
when his highest wish had been to
get a flower in a pot that he might
take care of 1t and watch 1t grow
ing-but now he cared no longer for
such a thing.
At last he thought that there was
nothing in particular that he was
longing for, and he was from now on
only curious to see what the director
might give him.
With. his finger nail he scratched a
mark on his bench for every day that
passed, and one day he discovered that
it was New Years day. He had been
as quiet as possible since the first day
October and his mind had been en-
tirely occupied with speculations as
to what he was to get.
He trembled at the thought that
there might be something to be said
against him, that he should never
know what the director had planned
to give him.
At noon he heard steps on the stairs
and steps were as words to him, so
acute had his sense of hearing be-
come. He plainly recognized the
steps Of the warden and the director,
but there was another sound he did
not understand, a kind of light trip
ping which filled his heart with
strange forebodings. Long before the
steps cached his door he was already
at attention. The blood was ham,
mering at his temples and his heart
beat violently. Would they pass his
door? His excitement was almost
more than he could bear.
No, they stopped outside. The
door slowly opened screechingly on Its
hinges and the director entered.
Have you behaved we'll during the
three months since I was here last ?"
he asked.
Yes" he answered in a voice that
trembled little.
"You remember I promised you a
reward?"
He had barely strength to answer.
If he remembered? He who had
thought of nothing else for three
months.
Now you are to have It,"
The murderer trembled all over.
The director whistled and a small
black poodle came in, slowly. eau
tiously, as II 1t feared a trap.
THAT is for you," the director said
The murderer looked at the direc-
tor. and there was a gleam Of sus-
picion in his eyes as he asked: How
long am to keep it?"
"As long as you treat it we'll and
behave WELL"
The director saw the light Of a
great joy in the convict's eyes. but he
said nothing.
The door was barred again and the
prisoner was alone with his new COM
rade.
For a long time they stared at each
other. He was afraid to call the dog
because he had a feeling 1t would not
obey him. but at last he tried. The
poodle came slowly and at last stood
quite close to him. He got courage to
pat its head. He nearly tumbled
over from the shock, but he recovered
and patted the dog with both hands
The dog jumped on his lap and licked
his forehead and eyes until the muir
derer burst out crying.
From that day there were no more
complaints about convict No. Z,
though he sat in his cell for six years
longer.
When he died the dog was set free
but it cared for nobody. 1t laid down
on the murderer's grave and refused
to eat and drink. 1t died rather than
live without the only friend 1t had
known since it was small puppy
Wellington Hope.