A CHILD OF THE JAGO
aided, he had done, with neatness and credit, a click that anybody in the Jago would have been proud of. Overjoyed, he had hastened to receive the commendations of his father and mother, and to place the prize in their hands, freely and generously, though perhaps with some hope of hot supper by way of celebration. And his reward was this. Why? He could understand nothing; could but feel the wrong that broke his heart. And so, sobbing, he crawled through two fences to weep on the shaggy neck of Jerry Gullen's canary.
Jerry Gullen's canary was no bird, but a donkey; employed by Jerry Gullen in his occasional intervals of sobriety to drag a cranky shallow, sometimes stored with glass bottles, rags, and hearthstone; sometimes with firewood manufactured from a convenient hoarding, or from the joinery of an empty house; sometimes with empty sacks covering miscellaneous property sud-
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