The Tabor independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1913-19??, 1915-04-01

ward the lesser pnysnques or Corinth !
Given, a boy who has had arrogance
as a birthright, snobbishness as q prod
uct, and moral stealth rs a necessity
add two years of athletic triumph al
: Harvard, and you nave Chetwynd.
He went in for boxing and punching
the bag. This was advised by his
trainers. In college there were stall
warts who could maui him with I'M
punity-and science-because Chef
wynd really lacked moral stamina, but
when he got back home for h sum-
mer vacation or the holidays he rev.
elled in a perfect whirl of boxing glove
victories. 1t was never quite fair to
hit Chetwynd hard, but IL was an edu-
cation to be slammed vigorously by
this elegant expert.
You've got to learn how to take IL
some time" was his usual response to
their objections" and h sooner the
better. Be a man."
Eric came in for some sound drub-
bings in the name OF science. He was
slighter and not so tall as his cousin,
but he was gamer than the rest of the
boys who put on the gloves" with the
magnificent sophomore. While Eric
knew little Of boxing as 1t is taught,
he could stand punishment for the
sport Of the game-7and he could in
fiict II, too.
More often than not, Chetwynd was
compelled to remind him in the thick
Of combat, that If he couldn't box like
a gentleman and not like a murderer
he would not take him on" again.
Whereupon Eric, considerably depressed
and hurt, would lose much OF his fierce
:6feetyintoxicathS
ness, and, as a result, received a les
son entirely satisfactory to Chetwynd.
"Oh, If I way only big enoughl" the
boy cried time and again to old JabeZ,
In announcing the result OF his most
recent contest. &c.
You'll grow sonny" unused Jabez.
He's a, coward at heart, and II you
wasn't so derned sensitive you could put
1t all over him."
One day, toward the close of the sum-
mer vacation, Eric succeeded In draw
ing blood from C~hetwynd's nose, and
in the fusillade that followed, landed a
blow which discolored the big boys
eyes-a most ignominioug discrimination.
Chetwynd, In wild rage, grappied with
his lighter antagonist, and, hurting him
to the ground, beat him numerically,
all the time calling him a murderer's
son-and wen worse.
Eric. as usual, carried his tale OF woe
to the old seaman. He was bitterly Ia
menting his unhappy position in the
Blagden family, and the insults he was
forced to endure, when a stranger ap-
peared on the Gene.
1t was q warm september Jay, anu
they were sitting or the bench under
the shade trees just inside the gates to
the park. Eric was nursing a bruised
cheek and q twisted elbow. He had
experienced some difficulty in evading
his sister and Joan Bright, the n
girl In Corinth who held an undisputed
place in his loyal young heart. They
were playing croquet IN the lawn and
he, in shame- faced defeat, had been
obliged TO crawl over a back fence on
leaving the cellar-(where the boxing
contest took place)-in order to avoid
a meeting and certain explanations. He
would have given much to be able to
stride before Joan Bright, a victor
over the bully In whom, for reasons in
applicable to Eric, she protested to
have q marked interest. Joan. by the
way,-was the daughter OF Judge Bright,
not quite Is and amazingly pretty.
But, / am on the point of DEPRESSING.
1t really doesn't matter about Joan at
this particular juncture. She will come
in later, very handily, I'm sure. 1t is
only necessary to repeat that, by skilful
lodging, he managed to skirt the lawn
without coming face to face with the
girls, and reached the friendly bench
on which he and Jabez was found by
the stranger / came so near to v
looking. Which would have been q de-
plorable oversight, as he is to have a
IIO5I important paAN Ia III
Of this tale.
He was stock, well -put-up sort Of
man with a singularly hard and forbid
ding face, recently shaved; his cold
grey eyes were set far back in his head
and were shaded by straight, bushy
brows Of black. His mouth was wide
n rather sinister In its expression.
There was a suggestion of a smile in
its corners, but NJ a smile OF mirth;
rather one OF derision. Eric's first
glimpse OF him came when he happened
to turn his eyes, as If urged by an i'm
pulse that was far from voluntary, in
the direction Of the watch house by the
gate. The stranger. in his shirt sleeves
and smoking a short pipe, vas leaning
in the doorway, idly surveying the two
on the bench. The boy started for q
moment, the words dying on his lips.
1t was the first time he had seen q
human being, other than old Jabez,
about the little house. He was at
once struck by the fact that the strang-
er was quite at home and on familiar
terms with the gate keeper.
Eric never knew why 1t was, but he
suddenly found himself contrasting this
hard featured individual and the ascetio,
pious eyed tormentor OF his soul, the
excellent Mr.. Presbrey. He was aft
erward to enjoy the humor Of that ludi-
crous comparison.
"Oh," said old Jabez, with a start,
that's my son Eric. He's stopping in
town for q week or two, SOS he can
come over to spend his vacation with
me. Adam, come here and shake hands
with my young friend, Mr.. Eric Mid
thorne." r
The man came forward, extending his
hand. A half smile grew 1 n his weather
beaten face.