t's mad, that's what government is, to let loose such a set o'
scum to mix with honest men. I dunno what things is coming to. If I
had my way, I'd soon have yer again in the chain gang, and scratch yer
back every day with the warder's cat--that's what I'd do with you.
There,"--to the sheep--"off you go. Now, then, how much longer am I to
wait for that next sheep? Of all the lazy, idle, skulking hands that
ever came about a place you're the worst. Now, then, don't kill the
poor beast, and don't keep me waiting all day for the next."

The sheep had made a sudden bound and nearly escaped; but Leather,
bending low the while, flung his arm round it, hugged it to his breast,
and bore it to Brookes.

"Yah! you clumsy, lazy brute; you're not fit to handle a sheep. Don't
kill it, thick-head. Hang yer, you're not worth your salt."

This was too much for Nic.

"Then why don't you go and fetch the sheep, and let him have a turn with
the tar?" roared the boy, with his face scarlet.

"What?" cried Brookes, swinging himself round, and dropping the brush.

"Say `sir' when you speak to me," cried Nic. "You heard what I said.
You're always bullying and insulting people. It's abominable. The
man's working like a slave, and you're kneeling there and doing hardly
anything."

"I'm blest!" panted out Brookes, with rings of white round the irises of
his eyes.

Leather was panting too. His face looked corrugated, and he stood there
bent down, frowning hard at the ground.

"It's shameful!" cried Nic. "I'm sure my father does not know you speak
to your fellow-servants like that."

"My what?" roared Brookes furiously. "Do you know he's only a convict?"

"Yes, I do. But what's that got to do with it, sir? As long as he
works and does his duty to my father, he's to be properly treated.
You're always bullying him. I've heard you ever since I've been home."

"Here! Where's your father?" cried Brookes, rising to his feet, and
advancing toward the fence with a threatening look, while Leather bent
lower.

"Gone on one of his rounds," said Nic, springing over the fence, and
facing him. "I wish he were here."

"And so do I," roared Brookes. "Look here, young gentleman; don't you
think because you've come home that you're to lord it over me. I'll
have you to know that you've got to beg my pardon, insulting me before
that lazy, lying, idle convict, you miserable young whippersnapper!"

"What!" said Nic, beside himself no