be imagined, he was altogether alone in this good custom, and at first
the very novelty of it had secured him immunity from pointed notice or
comment. But when Damase, thinking he saw in his daily devotions an
opening for his malicious purposes, drew attention to them by jeering
remarks and taunting insinuations, the others, yielding to that natural
tendency to be incensed with any one who seems to assert superior
goodness, were inclined to side with him, or at all events to make no
attempt to interfere.

At first Damase confined himself to making as much noise as possible
while Frank was reading his Bible or saying his prayers, keeping up a
constant fire of remarks that were aimed directly at the much-tried boy,
and which were sometimes clever or impertinent enough to call forth a
hearty laugh from his comrades. But finding that Frank was not to be
overcome by this, he resorted to more active measures. Pretending to be
dancing carelessly about the room he would, as if by accident, bump up
against the object of his enmity, sending the precious book flying on the
floor, or, if Frank was kneeling by his bunk, tripping and tumbling
roughly over his outstretched feet. Another time he knocked the Bible out
of his hands with a well-aimed missile, and, again, covered him with a
heavy blanket as he knelt at prayer.

All this Frank bore in patient silence, hoping in that way to secure
peace in time. But Damase's persecutions showing no signs of ceasing, the
poor lad's self-control began to desert him, and at last the crisis came
one night when, while he was kneeling as usual at the foot of his bunk,
Damase crept up softly behind him, and springing upon his shoulders,
brought him sprawling to the floor. In an instant Frank was on his feet,
and when the others saw his flashing and indignant countenance and
noticed his tight-clinched fists, the roar of laughter that greeted his