Plentywood herald. [volume] (Plentywood, Mont.) 1908-current, 1929-06-06

4 NON came out of prison when the
n monsoon broke. The first person
he saw was his mother who had
come to Columbo especially to upbraid
him for his wrong doingS.
Have no fear" he said to her. My
good luck has come. The Captain Sa-
nib is taking NE on as his confidential
clerk"
Paul Danton was young. He still
had beside him the beliefs and ideals
he had brought down from Elton, and
he still had in his heart things his
mother had talked TO him about and
told him. Little kindnesses and gentle
neSSes of hers had grown up within
him. and he never could abide the feel
ing that perhaps the other fellow had
not had half a chance.
So he talked to Anon and tried to
cheer him, and made him a sort OF
extra personal servant, to clean his
sword and his guns and his pistol, and
look after his clothes and his riding
boots. Amused at Anon's shrinking
and hatred for the servants quarters
and his own kind, he allowed him to
put his bed on the verandah outside his
W and gave him a small mos
quito curtain for himself.
Anon started work III a perfect burst
of zeal. He wrote a boastful letter TO
his mother and sent her five rupees
of the following months wages, TO
prove to her beyond all doubt his easy
circumstances. He told her that he
lived with q gentleman who treated
him as a brother, and they had all
things in common.
About this time Paul Danton began
to notice a wonderful increase in his
consumption of cigars and cigaretS. AS
he walked down the yerandah on his
way from fetching the English mail
bag from the postman he noticed
Anon's bed sown all round with the
butts and the ends of them.
He sent for Anon at once and gave
him a lecture.
IF you take a small thing that
doesn't belong to you, you are waiting
one. That's called dishonesty. You
know l want to help you and give you
a real chance. but if you do this sort
Of thing you will make it too difficult
for me-"
Anon said, Yes, sir"
AS he spoke to him. Paul Danton's
eyes came to rest on his hands-those
slender hands that looked as if they
belonged to another body.
Where did you come from origin
ally?" he asked, suddenly curious. From
the first he felt there was something
about this fellow he did not under
stand.
up in the Tea Garden District, sir
Its an odd name you have, anyway
How do you spell it,"
Anon's book learning had never got
as far as spelling in English. He fun
bled in his belt and presently produced
a crocodile leather wallet he had re-
moved from the colonel. Out of the
wallet he took ar envelope. soiled and
frayed and much the worse for a
But it was still possible to decipher
upon the back of it the coat of arms
of the steamship company, and upon
the front Of it the word Anon written
in neat Greek handwriting that had
characteristics all of its own.
Paul Danton took the envelope and
gazed at it, wrinkling his forehead
From it his eyes travelled to the pile OF
letters neatly arranged on his desk
awaiting his attention. The top one
was from his father, addressed in that
Greek handwriting that had charac-
teristics all its own. He laid the en-
velope beside it and looked at them
both for a long while.
Then, where did you get this?" he
asked.
Anon had no ideas on the subject
whatever, beyond that it was the En-
glish fashion of spelling his name. His
mother had given 1t to him..
Paul looked at the boy thoughtfully
He was too young to have worked for
Gerald Danton in the old days, but
was it not possible his father might
have done so? One thing was quite
clear. The envelope had come from
the old man. No one else wrote quite
like that. 1t was an amusing coinci-
dence. He would keep the envelope
and send it home, and see what his
father had to say about it.
Anon was at first loath to part with
his visiting card, but when Paul Dan
ton wrote him out a new n on a
large sheet of fresh writing paper he
eventually went off.
At the back of the bungalow behind
the servants quarters lie came upon
an old mar with a goatee beard, a
Chinese look, and matted hair. He had
the worn and dirty appearance OF a
beggar or a pilgrim. Anon, %secreting
his wallet in his belt, drew near and
joined the group around the old man.
His recent lecture had left him with
the old sense of grievance. He did not
see why the Captain Sahib had SO
many cigars and cigarets whilst he,
Anon, had none.
So the doctrine preached by the old
mar with the goatee beard fell on
fruitful ground. Presently, said the old
man, the white people would discover
they were not lords of the earth. All,
all Other masters would arise and put
them to confusion. In a flash Anon
saw himself as one of those masters,
clad in silken underwear, smoking Gig
arets in unlimited quantity, and moth
ing said.
I'm silence and in secret we work, y
said the old man. Making no noise,
like the weevil at the heart of the man.
60"
Furtively he distributed a little bun
die of pamphlets.
who is with us here?" demanded
the old who will become a Sc
cret worker in the cause and further
the freedom of the Island of Ceylon?
Freedom from the white oppressor?"
The sweeper yaWned and returned
into his house. The servants struggled
away M by one, some reading the
pamphlets the old mar had distributed,
others quarreling worldly with one an
other. Beside the old man only Anon
remained-Anon, with burning eyes
and hot hands. Had he not always
hated the white men in his heart? Was
not this, perhaps, the call he had been
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