“We shall not go before a judge,” I told him.
“Well, madjistrit then. He’ll say anything, and you’ll see if we don’t get sent to prison.”
I said I hoped not, but I felt pretty sure that we should be punished very severely, and the outlook seemed so bad that I began to think my only chance would be to follow Esau’s fortune, and go for a soldier.
All at once, just after he had been wondering how long “mother” would be before she dropped off to sleep, and what she would say when she found that we had not been home, I became aware of a low dull guttural sound, which told me that Esau had dropped off, and was sleeping soundly.
But I could not follow his example for thinking. What would Mr John say? What would Mrs John think? They would set me down as a reckless lad with a savage temper, and if we were punished they would never know the truth. Then another idea, one which made me shiver, occurred to me; the whole account would be in the newspapers, given as Police Intelligence, and that completely baffled all my attempts to sleep.
It was a very quiet night at the station. I heard doors opened and closed twice over, with a good deal of talking; and once while I was thinking most deeply, I started and stared curiously at a bright blaze of light, beyond which I could not see; but I felt that a constable had that light in his hand, and that he had come to see if we were asleep.
I had not heard the door open, I suppose I was thinking too deeply; but I heard it shut again, and heavy steps in the long stone passage outside. Then I began thinking again intently, full of remorse for what I had done, and how soon it would be morning; and then I began to envy Esau, who could sleep so soundly in spite of our position.
I remember it all—the trampling of feet outside, the dull muttering of voices, and the curious guttural sound Esau made as he slept, one that I was often to hear in years to come; and I sat there with my head resting in a corner, envying him, and wishing that I too could forget. And over and over again came the events of the past day—the struggle in the office, and the savage, malicious look of Mr Dempster as he struck me.
Weary, aching, and with my head throbbing, I sat and wondered now at my daring; and then came all kinds of mental questions as to the amount of punishment I, a poor boy, would receive.
All at once, as these miserable thoughts kept on repeating themselves in a strange, feverish way, that was somehow connected with a throbbing, smarting sensation in one ear, Mr Dempster seemed to have raised me by the arm once more, and to begin shaking me roughly—so vigorously that I made a desperate effort to escape, when he cried—