Page 632 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

‘Leave it till to-morrow,’ said Dawes, at length.
‘No; let’s have it over,’ urged the old man, with a strange
eagerness. ‘I’m tired o’ this.’
Rufus Dawes cast a wistful glance towards the wall be-
hind which lay the house of the Commandant. ‘Leave it till
to-morrow,’ he repeated, with his hand still in his breast.
They had been so occupied in their conversation that
neither had observed the approach of their common enemy.
‘What are you hiding there?’ cried Frere, seizing Dawes by
the wrist. ‘More tobacco, you dog?’ The hand of the convict,
thus suddenly plucked from his bosom, opened involun-
tarily, and a withered rose fell to the earth. Frere at once,
indignant and astonished, picked it up. ‘Hallo! What the
devil’s this? You’ve not been robbing my garden for a nose-
gay, Jack?’ The Commandant was wont to call all convicts
‘Jack’ in his moments of facetiousness. It was a little humor-
ous way he had.
Rufus Dawes uttered one dismal cry, and then stood
trembling and cowed. His companions, hearing the excla-
mation of rage and grief that burst from him, looked to see
him snatch back the flower or perform some act of violence.
Perhaps such was his intention, but he did not execute it.
One would have thought that there was some charm about
this rose so strangely cherished, for he stood gazing at it, as
it twirled between Captain Frere’s strong fingers, as though
it fascinated him. ‘You’re a pretty man to want a rose for
your buttonhole! Are you going out with your sweetheart
next Sunday, Mr. Dawes?’ The gang laughed. ‘How did you
get this?’ Dawes was silent. ‘You’d better tell me.’ No an-

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