The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1916-02-25
TENTH STORY

and you, Donald Porter, I here
by sentence to twenty years at hard
labor"
How clearly those words stayed in
his memory! 1t was all as though
1t had happened yesterday. The MUIR
ky, smelly courtroom, the spectators,
pleasure" bent, the newshounds Of
the great dailies, the striving lawyers
and the purblind Judge. He had never
been able to decide from that day to
this whether the judge had been
bought and paid for or no. What
did It matter? The Judge wasn't ele-
mentally responsible. How clearly he
remembered every huctuation of his
ewn distract mind during that long
trial. At first he could do nothing
but laugh at the absurdity of 1t all.
1t concerned him at first only as a
bothersome misunderstanding that
robbed him Of his precious time. Then,
as the trial went along, as false wit
nesses were introduced, and things
fixed for his railroading to prison,
and he felt with sudden horror his
nearness to a punishment he didn't
In the least deserve; he had become
panicky at the grossness Of the con-
spiracy against him. So cleverly had
Cole looted the bank, so carefully had
be planned It, that it had looked, at
the trial as though he (Porter), had
looted it and made Cole, its president,
his innocent accomplice.
Cole AS he thought that name,
the ugly subtle lines Of his face deep
ened, and his fingers twitched nerv-
ously, as though yearning for that soft
throat they had once squeezed with
In their grasp. The day Coles light
sentence had ended, and he had
walked jauntily amongst his fellow
prisoners on his way to freedom, the
guards had to be quick to save that
throat from those yearning fingers. He
had almost had him that time! Well,
he would get him. He had told him
self that time and time again.
This thought, this unquenchable
hate for the man who had SO tricked
him was the only thing that kept the
life in his poor emaciated frame-the
one thing that had enabled him to
stand the frishtful routine of prison
life these long, weary years. 1t was
no wonder to Don Porter that he re-
membered it all 80 clearly as he did.
The whole thing had had a daily re-
hearsal in his mind, and for years now
he had awakened each morning to a
fresh realization Of the unspeakable
horror Of his position, and had gone
to bed each night with a curse in his
heart and on his lips for the man who
had 30 tricked him-had so spoiled
his life, and the lives Of those few
who had put their faith in him. He
had been very good these past years.
Oh, so good!-all but that once. He
had almost had him that time! That
thought always gave him a moments
gave way again to despair; a despair
that seemed duller, that the moment
before had been touched with light.
This despair was despair that he
should not live to be revenged. He
had made q mad, insane attack on him
then, but the guard was too quick.
But that was fully five years ago, and
he had been good since then-good
with the goodness Of a child who ex-
poets a reward-patient with the pa
thence Of a man who sees each day
bring him nearer to his hearts desire
His hearts desire!
1t seemed strange to him at odd mo-
ments that he who had always been
gentle and sensitive, he who had al
ways felt an instructive kinship for
things gentle and sensitive should now
have for his hearts desire the death
of another man. And yet it was so.
1t was so, and he was jealousy glad
OF It. With the best years of his life
scooped out, literally thrown away
freedom after his release held forth
no promise to him-no promise but
one.
Edith Hilton had arrived at her
twentieth year. 1t would be dificult
to say how she had arrived at her
twentieth year, unless one might say
she zigzagged to 1t. For Edith was
like most Of US, that queer admixture
Of decision and hesitapSy that set her
ever out Of the anelyzable type
class, selected and labeled. and ever
made her next act as uncertain as
was the motive OF her last.
Whatever queer twist nature had
endowed her mind with. It had GER
tainly been governed by the beautiful
when II made her body. for she was
of that perfection OF physical beauty
that makes most of US feel must re.
Nsct an inner light, as the exquisite
odor Of cologne suggests a delicious.
ness Of taste
Her black hair, glossy and crisp,
undulated In tiny waves down her
white neck a. though loath to leave
a head of such delicate loneliness, her
warm brown eyes. pouung lips and
slim, 1.-THE Ngnre. making an ensemble
that her worldly wise mother treas
ured arc ccunted on a thei. ultimate
salvation frcE. the awful impecunious
prestige OF ,;i~iY social position. 1t
wa. iosa ia. social position. Her
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Emblem of