The Second Chance

oing back

ngsters! Me

arefoot ch

as we us

angers up

eek behind

Whitco

sidered, then the Souris may lay claim to some distinction. For a few weeks in the spring of the year, too, it is a swift and mighty flood that goes sweeping through the valley, carrying on its turbulent waters whirling ice-jams, branches of trees, and e

ction for about three miles, and then turns sharply north toward the S

ite frame house, set in a grove of maples; a mile south is the big stone house of Samuel Motherwell, where Pe

her brother, was now attending. The schoolhouse is bare and unlovely, without tree or flower. The rain and the sun, the scorching winds of spring and winter

de, and a small porch with two steps leading up to it is at the south end. Here the gophers frolic in the quiet summer af

the north are the sand-hills of the Aissinboine, where stiff spruce trees stand like sentinels on the red sand; but no tiny seedling had ever been

the ceiling above the long stovepipe that runs from the stove at the door to the chimney at the other end, there

wall with molasses. There is a picture of the late King Edward when he was the Prince of Wales, and one of the late Queen Victoria f

ow, there run ancient rivers of ink, pointing back to a terrible day when Bud Perkins leaned against the teacher'

desks that can be read now on business and professional signs in Western cities, and some, too, that

nd the windows are curtained by frost-ferns. The big boys attend school in the winter-time, too, for when there is n

s, an innocent-looking sky, that had not noticed how cold it was below. The ground was white and sparkling, as if with silver tinsel, a glimmer of diamonds. Frost-wreaths would have crusted the trees and turned them into a fairy forest if there had been trees; but

d girls were playing "shinny," which is an old

e shouted directions and objurgations to his men and his opponents, wa

ckoned with, for she was little and lithe, and determined and quick, with th

ind the game was already won. But he had forgotten Libby Anne, who, before his stick reached the ground, had slipped in her own little crook,

captain of her side. Then Tom Steadman, coward that he was, struck her with his heavy stick, struck fair and straigh

at her poor quivering little face, white as ashes now, his own face almost a

stand up to me," he said in a voi

he felt very sure that he could handle

n Bud, on his face, head, neck, while Bud, bleeding, but far from beaten, fought like a cornered badger. The boys did not cheer; it was too serious a business for noisy shouting, and besides,

way of dealing with an antagonist, and so, when one of his eyes suddenly closed up and his nose began to bleed, he began to realize that he h

nfully, put her "shinny

, Bud," she said, "

tried to laugh, but his

't hit you when you're down. St

gly, but showed no d

ugh," Bud said. "He's

that it's a dirty sham

about it before. Come

in

ed, the whole story

ed in the biggest house, was councillor of the municipality, owned a threshing-machine, b

s around both eyes. Libby Anne was there, too, but she had been warned by her father, a poor, shiftless fellow, living on a

was away attending the Normal, and his place was being filled by

were not living on rented farms groaned. Several of the children gave their testimony that Tom had without doubt struck her "a-purpose!" Then Mr. Steadman, Tom's father, a big, well-fed man, who owned nineteen hundred acres of land and felt that some liberty should be allowed the only son of a man who paid such a heavy

father said miserably, his eyes on the gr

ingly at Bud. Her eyes b

n repeated

her father said, ne

hit you a

ath, and then in a strange

the word as if

he colour of dead grass, and although she was clean and well-kept, her pleading

the truth flashed on him, he packed up his bo

ed his little girl in his better moments, and the two cruel marks on her thin li

eat, sobbing bitterly, but he did not give her a

of the Assiniboine, and as he passed the Cavers home Libby Anne, w

had to say it. Dad made me do it, '

down. They stood together on the

Bud said. "Don't you wo

"you can't ever forget that I lied,

uch a little troubled, pathetic face, and som

and I'll wallop the daylight out of anybody that ever hurts you. Yo

g, and cut cruelly through Libby Anne's thin shawl as she ran home, but