Page 234 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

moody, sullen, and overbearing. Rufus Dawes was no lon-
ger the brutalized wretch who had plunged into the dark
waters of the bay to escape a life he loathed, and had alter-
nately cursed and wept in the solitudes of the forests. He
was an active member of society— a society of four—and he
began to regain an air of independence and authority. This
change had been wrought by the influence of little Sylvia.
Recovered from the weakness consequent upon this terrible
journey, Rufus Dawes had experienced for the first time in
six years the soothing power of kindness. He had now an
object to live for beyond himself. He was of use to somebody,
and had he died, he would have been regretted. To us this
means little; to this unhappy man it meant everything. He
found, to his astonishment, that he was not despised, and
that, by the strange concurrence of circumstances, he had
been brought into a position in which his convict experi-
ences gave him authority. He was skilled in all the mysteries
of the prison sheds. He knew how to sustain life on as little
food as possible. He could fell trees without an axe, bake
bread without an oven, build a weatherproof hut without
bricks or mortar. From the patient he became the adviser;
and from the adviser, the commander. In the semi-savage
state to which these four human beings had been brought,
he found that savage accomplishments were of most value.
Might was Right, and Maurice Frere’s authority of gentility
soon succumbed to Rufus Dawes’s authority of knowledge.
As the time wore on, and the scanty stock of provi-
sions decreased, he found that his authority grew more and
more powerful. Did a question arise as to the qualities of