The Bars of Iron

Ethel May Dell
圦
The Bars of Iron

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Title: The Bars of Iron
Author: Ethel May Dell
Release Date: December 20, 2003 [eBook #10509]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BARS OF IRON***
E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Project Gutenberg Beginners Projects, Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team

The Bars of Iron
By Ethel M. Dell
1916

I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO MY BROTHER REGINALD WITH MY LOVE

"He hath broken the gates of brass: And smitten the bars of iron in sunder." Psalm cvii., 16.
"I saw heaven opened." Revelation xix., II.

PROLOGUE

PART I
THE GATES OP BRASS

CHAPTER
I.
A JUG OF WATER
II. CONCERNING FOOLS
III. DISCIPLINE
IV. THE MOTHER'S HELP
V. LIFE ON A CHAIN
VI. THE RACE
VII. A FRIEND IN NEED
VIII. A TALK BY THE FIRE
IX. THE TICKET OF LEAVE
X. SPORT
XI. THE STAR OF HOPE
XII. A PAIR OF GLOVES
XIII. THE VISION
XIV. A MAN'S CONFIDENCE
XV. THE SCHEME
XVI. THE WARNING
XVII. THE PLACE OF TORMENT
XVIII. HORNS AND HOOFS
XIX. THE DAY OF TROUBLE
XX. THE STRAIGHT TRUTH
XXI. THE ENCHANTED LAND
XXII. THE COMING OF A FRIEND
XXIII. A FRIEND'S COUNSEL
XXIV. THE PROMISE
XXV. DROSS
XXVI. SUBSTANCE
XXVII. SHADOW
XXVIII. THE EVESHAM DEVIL
XXIX. A WATCH IN THE NIGHT
XXX. THE CONFLICT
XXXI. THE RETURN
XXXII. THE DECISION
XXXIII. THE LAST DEBT
XXXIV. THE MESSAGE
XXXV. THE DARK HOUR
XXXVI. THE SUMMONS
XXXVII. "LA GRANDE PASSION"
XXXVIII. THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES

PART II
THE PLACE OF TORMENT
I. DEAD SEA FRUIT
II. THAT WHICH IS HOLY
III. THE FIRST GUEST
IV. THE PRISONER IN THE DUNGEON
V. THE SWORD FALLS
VI. THE MASK
VII. THE GATES OF HELL
VIII. A FRIEND IN NEED
IX. THE GREAT GULF
X. SANCTUARY
XI. THE FALLING NIGHT
XII. THE DREAM
XIII. THE HAND OF THE SCULPTOR

PART III
THE OPEN HEAVEN
I. THE VERDICT
II. THE TIDE COMES BACK
III. THE GAME
IV. THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN
V. THE DESERT ROAD
VI. THE ENCOUNTER
VII. THE PLACE OF REPENTANCE
VIII. THE RELEASE OP THE PRISONER
IX. HOLY GROUND
EPILOGUE

The Bars of Iron

PROLOGUE
"Fight? I'll fight you with pleasure, but I shall probably kill you if I do. Do you want to be killed?" Brief and contemptuous the question fell. The speaker was a mere lad. He could not have been more than nineteen. But he held himself with the superb British assurance that has its root in the British public school and which, once planted, in certain soils is wholly ineradicable.
The man he faced was considerably his superior in height and build. He also was British, but he had none of the other's careless ease of bearing. He stood like an angry bull, with glaring, bloodshot eyes.
He swore a terrific oath in answer to the scornful enquiry. "I'll break every bone in your body!" he vowed. "You little, sneering bantam, I'll smash your face in! I'll thrash you to a pulp!"
The other threw up his head and laughed. He was sublimely unafraid. But his dark eyes shone red as he flung back the challenge. "All right, you drunken bully! Try!" he said.
They stood in the garish light of a Queensland bar, surrounded by an eager, gaping crowd of farmers, boundary-riders, sheep-shearers, who had come down to this township on the coast on business or pleasure at the end of the shearing season.
None of them knew how the young Englishman came to be among them. He seemed to have entered the drinking-saloon without any very definite object in view, unless he had been spurred thither by a spirit of adventure. And having entered, a boyish interest in the motley crowd, which was evidently new to him, had induced him to remain. He had sat in a corner, keenly observant but wholly unobtrusive, for the greater part of an hour, till in fact the attention of the great bully now confronting him had by some ill-chance been turned in his direction.
The man was three parts drunk, and for some reason, not very comprehensible, he had chosen to resent the presence of this clean-limbed, clean-featured English lad. Possibly he recognized in him a type which for its very cleanness he abhorred. Possibly his sodden brain was stirred by an envy which the Colonials round him were powerless to excite. For he also was British-born. And he still bore traces, albeit they were not very apparent at that moment, of the breed from which he had sprung.
Whatever the cause of his animosity, he had given it full and ready vent. A few coarse expressions aimed in the direction of the young stranger had done their work. The boy had risen to go, with disgust written openly upon his face, and instantly the action had been seized upon by the older man as a cause for offence.
He had not found his victim slow to respond. In fact his challenge had been flung back with an alacrity
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