ing
the soul of a child. Vaguely, perhaps, and unwillingly, but
still he saw it sometimes.

"This went on. The Irishman blew up his dynamite and talked
with Dia and played with her. Jan, watching, saw the color
had returned to her cheeks and the life to her eyes. He
came into the kitchen once and she was singing. She stopped
suddenly.

"'Why do you not go on?' he asked, with his little red eyes
staring at her.

"She had nothing to say, and he went away, to go down to
the dam. The Irishman was sitting on an ant-heap away in
the sun, and Jan passed him without speaking, and walked
down to the place of explosions. He was looking at the
marks of fire on the rocks, when it seemed to him he heard
a shout, and he saw, as he turned his head, that the
Irishman was standing up. But he made no beck, and Jan
walked along. When he looked again the young man had both
hands to his head. Jan shaded his eyes to watch him.

"Moore walked a few paces to and fro, stood still, and
then, with a start, commenced to run furiously down to
where Jan was standing. He ran with long strides and very
fast, and was soon beside the old man, and seized him by
the arm.

"'Out of this!' he cried. 'Out of this! The holes are
loaded, and ye've sixty seconds to save yer life.'

"Jan stood still. 'Why did you not tell me before?' he
asked; but the other did not answer, but only dragged at
his arm.

"Jan shook his hand off. 'I have a mind to stay,' he said
in a calm voice. 'If Dia is made a widow, you will know how
to look after her.'

"'And that's true!' cried the Irishman. 'But you shan't
make a murderer of me.'

"And he drew back his fist and knocked the old man down.
Catching him by the collar, he dragged him to the shelter
of a big boulder, flung him close to it, and lay down on
top of his body. In the next moment the blast went off, and
the gust of fire and rocks and earth roared and whistled
through the air above them. The sound struck them like a
bludgeon, and they lay for a while, stunned and deafened,
while pieces of stone slid and tinkled on the boulder that
had sheltered them. At last they rose.

"'I made a mistake and I am glad,' said Jan.

"'Will you shake hands with me?'

"'I will not,' was the answer.

"'So be it. But there can be no need to tell Dia of this.'

"The Irishman nodded, and that afternoon, again, he and Dia
were in the garden, throwing stones at a sardine-tin on a
stick to see who could hit it first. Dia