man, on this handle. Poor Crayford! his words stick in my throat.
A fine fellow! a noble fellow! No use thinking, no use
regretting; what is said, is said. Work! work! work!"

Plank after plank fell out on the floor. He laughed over the easy
task of destruction. "Aha! young Aldersley! It doesn't take much
to demolish your bed-place. I'll have it down! I would have the
whole hut down, if they would only give me the chance of chopping
at it!"

A long strip of wood fell to his ax--long enough to require
cutting in two. He turned it, and stooped over it. Something
caught his eye--letters carved in the wood. He looked closer. The
letters were very faintly and badly cut. He could only make out
the first three of them; and even of those he was not quite
certain. They looked like C L A--if they looked like anything. He
threw down the strip of wood irritably.

"D--n the fellow (whoever he is) who cut this! Why should he
carve _that_ name, of all the names in the world?"

He paused, considering--then determined to go on again with his
self-imposed labor. He was ashamed of his own outburst. He looked
eagerly for the ax. "Work, work! Nothing for it but work." He
found the ax, and went on again.

He cut out another plank.

He stopped, and looked at it suspiciously.