The Underworld - The Story of Robert Sinclair, Miner by James C. Welsh
page 46 of 324 (14%)
page 46 of 324 (14%)
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The boy's flesh twitched and quivered at every blow, yet never a cry
came from him. It but served to feed his rebellion, and he struggled and fought with fury until completely exhausted. "There now," declared Mr. Clapper, flinging down the "tawse" upon the table, panting from his exertions and wiping his brow, "I shall leave you for a time until you decide to speak. If you will not speak when I return, I shall thrash you again," and he went out, locking the door, leaving the boy, still proud and unsubdued, but aching in every muscle and bone of his little body. Left to himself, Robert very nearly cried, but he dashed the gathering tears from his eyes, angry at the weakness, and resolved, as he adjusted his garments, that he would die rather than speak now. He looked round, and seeing the window raised a little from the bottom, sprang to it, a sudden resolve in his heart to run away. Just as he got astride the sill he spied a piece of chalk and the "tawse" on the table, so turning back he put the "tawse" in his pocket, and with the chalk wrote on the table:-- "You are an ould pig and I'll not speak, and you'll never put your hands on your tawse again." Then he was out of the window, dropped easily to the ground, and was away to the moors. He ran a long way, until finding that he had not been detected, he skirted a small wood, dug a hole in the soft moss, put in the "tawse," and covered them up. There they may be lying to this day, for no one ever learned from him where they were buried. The spell of the moor took possession of him, and his wounded soul was |
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