"Then, one day, when he was very near the end, a man found him. The poor
hunted devil of a convict aroused his pity. He offered help. He gave the
wretched, starving creature food. He arranged to furnish him with
supplies, until it would be safe for him to leave his hiding place. He
brought him food and clothing and books. Later, when the convict's prison
pallor was gone, when his hair and beard were grown, and the prison manner
and walk were, in some measure, forgotten; when the officers, thinking
that he had perished in the mountains, had given up looking for him; his
benefactor gave him work--beautiful work in the orange groves--where he
was safe and happy and useful and could feel himself a _man_.
"Do you wonder, Miss Andres, that the man was grateful? Do you wonder that
he worshipped his benefactor--that he looked upon his friend as upon his
savior?"
"No," said the girl, "I do not wonder. It was a beautiful thing to do--to
help the poor fellow who wanted to do right. I do not wonder that the man
who had escaped, loved his friend."
"But listen," said the other, "when the convict was beginning to feel
safe; when he saw that he was out of danger; when he was living an
honorable, happy life, instead of spending his days in the hell they call
prison; when he was looking forward to years of happiness instead of to
years of torment; then his benefactor came to him suddenly, one day, and
said, 'Unless you do what I tell you, now--unless you help me to something
that I want, I will send you back to prison.
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