The Gold-Stealers | Page 8

and
getting even with his enemy by gaoling him for a few years.
As Ephraim passed out from the bar he again allowed his eyes to roll
up and meet those of his enemy from the dark shadow of his thick
brows.
'Don't forget the little widow was sweet on Frank Hardy before you
jugged him, Tinribs,' said the miner.
Tinribs was a name bestowed upon the superintendent by the youth of
Waddy, and called after him by irreverent small boys from convenient
cover or under the shelter of darkness. He found the Widow Haddon at
home. She it was who answered his knock.
'I have come from the School Committee, ma'am,' he said, still intent

upon his boots.
'About Dickie, is it? Come in.'
Mrs. Haddon was dressmaker-in-ordinary to the township, and her
otherwise carefully tended kitchen was littered with clippings and bits
of material. She resumed her task by the lamp a soon as the delegate of
the School Committee was comfortably seated.
'Has Richard come home, ma'am?' Ephraim was an orator, and prided
himself on his command of language.
The widow shook her head. 'No,' she said composedly. 'I don't think he
will come home to-night.'
'We have had a committee meeting, missus,' said Ephraim, examining
the toe of his left boot reproach fully, 'an' it's understood we've got to
catch these boys.'
'What!' cried Mrs. Haddon, dropping her work into her lap. 'You silly
men are going to make a hunt of it? Then, let me tell you, you will not
get that boy of mine to-morrow, nor this week, nor next. Was ever such
a pack of fools! Let Dickie think he is being hunted, and he'll be a
bushranger, or a brigand chief, or a pirate, or something desperately
wicked in that amazin' head of his, and you won't get a-nigh him for
weeks, not a man Jack of you! Dear, dear, dear, you men--a set of
interferin', mutton-headed creatures!
'He's an unregenerate youth--that boy of yours, ma'am.'
'Is he, indeed?' Mrs. Haddon's handsome face flushed, and she squared
her trim little figure. 'Was he that when he went down the broken winze
to poor Ben Holden? Was he that when he brought little Kitty Green
and her pony out of the burnin' scrub? Was he all a little villain when
he found you trapped in the cleft of a log under the mount there, when
the Stream men wouldn't stir a foot to seek you?
During this outburst Shine had twisted his boots in all directions, and

examined them minutely from every point of view.
'No, no, ma'am,' he said, 'not all bad, not at all; but--ah, the--ah,
influence of a father is missing, Mrs. Haddon.'
'That's my boy's misfortune, Mr. Superintendent.'
'It--it might be removed.'
'Eh? What's that you say?'
The widow eyed her visitor sharply, but he was squirming over his
unfortunate feet, and apparently suffering untold agonies on their
account.
'The schoolmaster must be supported, missus,' he said hastily.
'Discipline, you know. Boys have to be mastered.'
'To be sure; but you men, you don't know how. My Dick is the best boy
in the school, sometimes.'
'Sometimes, ma'am, yes.'
'Yes, sometimes, and would be always if you men had a pen'orth of
ideas. Boys should be driven sometimes and sometimes coaxed.'
'And how'd you coax him what played wag under the very school,
fought there, an' then broke out of the place like a burgerler?
'I know, I know--_that's bad; but it's been a fearful tryin' day, an'
allowances should be made.'
'Then, if he comes home you'll give him over to be--ah, dealt with?'
'Certainly, superintendent; I am not a fool, an' I want my boy taught.
But don't you men go chasm' those lads; they'll just enjoy it, an' you'll
do no good. You leave Dickie to me, an' I'll have him home here in two
shakes. Dickie's a high-spirited boy, an' full o' the wild fancies of boys.
He's done this sort o' thing before. Run away from home once to be a

sailor, an' slep' for two nights in a windy old tree not a hundred yards
from his own comfortable bed, imaginin' he was what he called on the
foretop somethin'. But I know well enough how to work on his
feelings.'
'A father, ma'am, would be the savin' o' that lad.'
Mrs. Haddon dropped her work again and her dark eyes snapped; but
Ephraim Shine had lifted one boot on to his knee, and was examining a
hole in the sole with bird-like curiosity.
'When I think my boy needs special savin' I'll send for you, Mr. Shine--
'It'd be a grave responsibility, a trial an' a constant triberlation, but I
offer myself. I'll be a father to your boy, ma'am, barrin' objections.'
'An' what is