The Furnaceman.

Clutha Leader, Volume XXIV, Issue 1221, 26 November 1897, Page 7

The Furnaceman.

(By A. M«I. Clelland.)

CHAPTER 111.

Thus it was that Geordie took up the thread of his life again, and followed its leadings, though in a dogged, surly manner that soon won for him the character of being the most crossgrained man anywhtie about Castor Heath. But life was never the same again to him, nor had his work that same energetic swing it had had only a few weeks before. He was still the best puddler Jab< z Drew had in his employ, still able to gather on the end of his ' rabble ' heavier balls than any other man could have lifted; but he never again sing at his work ; and he changed his erect bearing and square shoulders for a heavy slouching gait, carrying his head so low that his chin almost touched his chest. So the months crept on to winter, and winter changed to spring, bringing no gleam of hope to Geordie, but rather adding to his bitterness of spirit. For rumours had reached him that things were not going well with Liz, and he regretted his promise not to chastise Tim while she lived. He heard that Liz was neglected and left alone for days at a time. Nay, she had even been struck — kicked, the rumor said — one night by Tim when he was in liquor. But Geordie could not bring himself to believe thai. It is, perhaps, not difficult to understand how Tim had managed to exercise such influence over L : z. He had put a power over her, as many a man has done with a weak, vain, shallow, and frivolous woman. Tim was high up in the social ladder of Burter's Buildings. His house of furniture, and about ten pounds per annum he received from his father's executors, made it less necessary for him to be, in constant employment than the majority of workmen around Caster Heath. He always dressed too in a fashion superior to that of the men he came in ; contact with, and never failed to drink a glass of wine with mine host of the j •Pig and Pip**,' on every alternate Saturday nigh f , after he, in common with all other workers in those parts, had received his bi-monthly wage. Not that Tim was by any means a favourite. In fac:, but for his money, he would have been relegated to a very obscure position in Castor Heath society, being of a mean and villainous type, of character. The men couH not stand his fine airs and fine clothes ; his long tawny moustaches ; thR perpetual j flower in his buttonhole on Sunday ; , and lastly, his scented pocket-hand- ! kerchief ! This latter offended his companions extreme 1 ?. They did not use handkerchiefs themselves, and abominated scent. Naturally enough, perhaps, the j clothes and flowers, moustache and perfumes, attracted many among the women, and none more so than Liz. Wherefore, being fickle ; inconstant and flighty — as the Milton Bow barber had warned Geordie — she had allowed Tim to put a power over he, and thus ministered to her own undoing. Having gained his end, having provailed with L ; z and carried off. the belle of- Burter's Buildings from under the bridegroom's fye*, Tim soon grew tired of his prize. Coldness was followed by harshness ; then c&me neglect, and after that illtreatment and blowg. Being of & mean and contemptible character, Tim delighced to imagine that in some way he could revenge himself on his former rival by being cruel to Liz. He had never forgiven Geordie for the moral victory he had obtained over him the previous summer and hoped his illtreatment of Liz would drive her to complain to her old lover and thus bring on the fight he had been balked of before. In this, however he, was disappointed. Whoever Liz might confide her woes to, she' certainly did not go to Geordie. Perhaps it was this feeling of disappointment on Tim's part which at last led to a memorable conflict between the two men, the one which brought public opinion entirely round to Geordie's side. Heowas sitting one evening, in early spring, in the bar-parlour of the ' Pig and Pipe,' smoking and drinking his customary mug of beer, when the door waß suddenly thrown heavily open and Tim lurched in, pretty well on in liquor, having, in fact, reached stage number two — the quarrelsome. * 'Ullo !' he cried, catching sight of tho furnaceman, 'be thou here 1 I thought tbou'd given up drink and other man-like ways.' But Geordie made no answer. His mug would be emptied and his pipe finished in a minute or two, and then he would be off. However, Tim had no intention of letting him escape so easily. 'Got married yet V he askr-d with a sneer. ' Chaps.' he added with a laugh, ' here's a fellow as wants a wife. Can't we fit him V ♦Shut up, Tim!' said one of his friends, who had noticed an ugly look pass over Geordie'a face at this brutal speech, as he rose slowly and crossed over to the bar to pay his score. 'Hold yerjab,' hiccuped Tim. 'I do hear,' he added, turning to the man he was baiting, 'as how you've sold

all that prettj furniture ; or burned it, was it? Pity you didn't send it to Liz an' me.' But never a word did the furnaceman utter. His breath came quick and short ; his hands were clenched deep in his trousers pockets, the veins on his forehead seemed fit to burst, as he moved slowly towards the door leading to the open street, looking neither right nor left Some good-natured fellow would have h"ld Tim back, but he pushed his way out after his enemy. He was exasperated by his cool silence. ' Cum now,' he said, 'I asked thee to fight me and thee wouldn't. Will thee fight me now ?' No answer from the man walking with slow, heavy tread in the middle of the road.' 'Thee won't? 1 the half-drunken fellow hiccuped, seizing Geordie's arm ; * then take that.' A smart blow on his cheek sent every particle of blood in Geordie's system first to his heait and then back to his head in one mighty rush. This was too much for human endurance. ' A ftght ! a fight !' was cried on all side.". Several men went to back Tim, though far the greater number stood by Geordie. He had torn off his coat and waistcoat in a flash and thrown them on the ground. Suddenly he stopped, as he was rolling up the rijht sleeve of his shirt. Like oil on trouble:! waters came the memory of his promise to Liz. The sleeve was slowly unrolled again, tho coat and waistcoat picked up and thrown over his arm. Then he turned to the men around him, who stood silent with astonishment. ' Lads,' he said, ' I'vo taken a blow to-day wichout givin' it back again, an' the smart of it wili be bitter to me all my life. And I've been blamed for a coward, but I can't fight. Because when L : z ' — and he paused a* if doubtful for a word — ' ay, when L'z married Tim I promised I'd never strike him while her was alive, and I'm not goin' back on it.' Simple words the3P, but spoken so | earnestly and with such sorrow in their accents that the hearers instinctively felt the victory lay with Geordie. They stcod on one side to allow him to pass on his way up the road, still with the coat and waistcoat over his arm. It. certainly was a pity such a dirty, miserable chap as Tim should not have had a little of the conceit knocked out of him, but ' Put Tim in horse-pond,' a voice cried ou^ and the -suggestion was immediately taken up with a laugh. Now, the horse-pond was opposite the door of the- 'Pig and Pipe-,' and its contents were composed of two-thirds mud and one-third stangnant and foul water. | Tim was forthwith seized, his friends being too few to protect him, and dragged to the edge of the pond. Two men laid hold of his wrists, two his feet, and he. was swung from side to side a fr ; w times, face downwards ; then, with a 'one, two, three, and away,' he was shot out into midair, and fell wi;h a monstrous flop, in spread-eagle fashion, right in the centre of the pond. He emerged, covered with mud and slime, sobered by the cold water, and furious at tho laughs and jeers of the crowd on the bank. He spat the foul water from his mouth, and waded to tho side, stirring up the stinking mud at the bottom of the pond, while the men above him almost tumbled down with merriment at tl c success of their joke. • Want some scent. Tim ?' one asked. ' Give him a hankcher,' shouted a second. ' Eh, Tim, those fine clothes of yours look wet.' The poor draggled wretch struggled up the bank, green mud hanging from his shoulders, head, and arms, his legs swathed, from thigh downwards, in oily-looking mud. But his troubles were not yet over. ' Serm to be in want o' a wash, Tim,' some one cried. ' Come, chaps, and put him under pump.' So Tim was carried, resisting as well as he. could, to the trough, standing in tl/e stable yard of the ' Pig and Pipe,' plunged in, and vigorously pumped upon. Thus, at any rate, he became clean again, but was still not yet out of the wood, or, perhaps one ought to say, out of the water. The joke was too good to be curtailed. Such an opportunity might never occur again. The men were like schuolbojs in mischief. To have such a fine gentleman as Tim Snacker entirely in their hands, to maul and muck at their own sweet will, was the best bit of fun of the season. Their loud laughter echoed and re-echoed around the yard. Thos«? who were not near enough to manipulate the pump handle, or assist \u holding Tim down, stood around on tiptoe trying to get occasional peeps at him. And it was the~e, %vhen the victim was at last allowed to scramble out of the trough, dazed and confused with his most unusual experiences, who hurried him out of the yard and into the open road. ' Roll him in the dus^, lads, and dry him a bit,' they cried. So Tim was rolled over and over in the thick, black, powdery dust, till, after being nearly choked with mud, and drowned with water, he was now in some danger of suffocation. Indeed,

it is quite po»Bible matters might have gone too far and Tim have met with serious injuries had not a horse and trap, driven rapidly along the. road, caused the crowd to divert, and thus gave him an opportunity to make a rush for liberty. He ran as man surely never ran before or since, hotly pursued by the rough-hairrd terrier, who sprang up at him, and tore out a great piece from his hinder garments. My faith ! what a glorious time this had been to the rough haired terrier. How he had yap-yap yapped till he almost cracked his throat, rushing here and there in all directions, getting in the way of the men, tumbling in the trough, blinding himself with dust, till he put the final touch to the ruin of Tim's trousers by tearing off a piece from thpir very centre. But as Tim ran, one thought, and one only, filled his mind. He would make Liz pay for this second defeat ; he would take a dire vengeance for the ill treatment he had received. • CurEe her, 1 he muttered, when he was at a safe distance ; ' and curse you,' turning round to face the crowd, while he shook his fist at them, only to immediately resume his running, as one or two men made a motion as if to give chase. ' Ay, laugh away,' he sneered as a derisive shout came up the road ' lsugh away. L'z will have marks on her back to show for this to-morrow.' Poor Geordie ! If he could have forseenthe result of his forbearance that evening, would he not. have broken ten thousand promise* rather than add anything to the sufferings she was already- enduring ? During all these months he had never once seen L'z. Ho had been at Baxter's Buildings two or three times, but Liz was never there now, and Tim's house was away at the other side of Castor H«ath, so that thpre was little chance of their meeting. But at length he came across her and in this wise. He was walking on the heath one evening towards sunset, and had unconsciously taken the pah he had followed on his first visit to Tim, when on approaching a stiie leading over a stone wall, he noticed the figure of a woman standing against it. The light was too dim to enable him to see anything of her features or form, so that he was almost within a couple of yards off her her before he recognised — L : z! {To bt continued.)