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Everything went quickly after that, as he had thought it would, for Baldwin had a vile temper and it was not improved by indulgence. Tony’s life might be said to be full of incident just then—and yet time dragged! Four months till Robertson came back—four months all but a few days—the days did not seem to grow less numerous, and the eternity since he went was barely three months as yet. Surely Baldwin would grow tired of bullying in time—the freshness would go from the game! But Tony did not seriously think that it would.

“It’s his infernal tongue,” he thought. “I don’t know that I’d mind being knocked about so much—y’ take it, an’ pick yourself up, an’ it’s over for a bit—but he nags so, and I can’t do anything right, and—and it’s more than a boy’s work, anyhow. . . . If he thinks he can make me quit by giving me dirty jobs, he’s mistaken. . . . I owe it to the Boss. . . . If I went away now I’d get along all right; I could earn my keep and more—ten shillings a week and my keep anywhere in this country. I can look after horses, and skin a beast, and help a carpenter, and . . . Oh yes, and all that I owe to Mr. Robertson. I might try and keep the one promise he asked from me! . . . I haven’t talked back at Baldwin once, anyhow—though it sticks in my throat to call him Sir, I do it. . . . I’m getting a good bit stronger than I was, and bigger, but I’m not as big as Alf Bulstrode yet, and he’s four months younger than me—an’ I’m light for my size too. . . .”

Those were bad months, and only the certainty of Robertson’s quick return kept Tony at Paranui. For the second time in his life he was being gradually cowed. His father would have cowed him too, but he never brought his attention to bear upon the operation during a sufficiently long time. With a boy of Tony’s nature the process is a long and absorbing one, and Ste. Croix had had more