Page 493 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

drel saw beneath the roughness with which it had pleased
the unfortunate man to shroud his agony, how faithful a
friend and how ardent and undaunted a spirit was con-
cealed. There was, moreover, a mystery about Rufus Dawes
which Rex, the reader of hearts, longed to fathom.
‘Have you no friends whom you would wish to see?’ he
asked, one evening, when Rufus Dawes had proved more
than usually deaf to his arguments.
‘No,’ said Dawes gloomily. ‘My friends are all dead to
me.’
‘What, all?’ asked the other. ‘Most men have some one
whom they wish to see.’
Rufus Dawes laughed a slow, heavy laugh. ‘I am better
here.’
‘Then are you content to live this dog’s life?’
‘Enough, enough,’ said Dawes. ‘I am resolved.’
‘Pooh! Pluck up a spirit,’ cried Rex. ‘It can’t fail. I’ve been
thinking of it for eighteen months, and it can’t fail.’
‘Who are going?’ asked the other, his eyes fixed on the
ground. John Rex enumerated the eight, and Dawes raised
his head. ‘I won’t go. I have had two trials at it; I don’t want
another. I would advise you not to attempt it either.’
‘Why not?’
‘Gabbett bolted twice before,’ said Rufus Dawes, shud-
dering at the remembrance of the ghastly object he had seen
in the sunlit glen at Hell’s Gates. ‘Others went with him, but
each time he returned alone.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Rex, struck by the tone of his
companion.

For the Term of His Natural Life