Dishonour Among Thieves

off again, exploring, testing his own powers of endurance, he had yet developed the sense of benevolence which made him feel a concern for Rory Macshane and other toughs with a dubious record behind them. Meeting Macdonald’s contemplative gaze, Whelpton said:
“I’ve probably got much more in common with Macshane than you have, Super. I wasn’t born good—far from it—and I can remember some dubious enterprises in my youth which might have attracted your attention if you’d been in the offing. I was lucky; the only person who ever caught me out in my devilments—poaching, pinching, and the rest —was an uncle who’d been at sea all his life. He sent me off on the three-masted barque Wirramirra and I was kept at work too hard to have time for indulging my own antisocial tendencies. We had to work, to save our own lives and the craft we sailed on. It was good training. Well, I’m prepared to take Macshane on, because I believe the sort of work I can offer him will satisfy his thirst for adventure and endeavour. What I should like to do with him is to set him up as a trapper in the far northwest and see if he makes out —as I think he will.” Whelpton laughed. “Well, you came to me because something was nagging at you about the defects of our penal system, as you call it If between us we set one ex-convict on a road which develops what’s best in him rather than what’s worst, we shan’t have wasted our time; and the experiment may even provide you with ammunition when you argue with your bosses over the defects of the system you serve.”
“Well, you’re doing the work and taking the risk in the case of Rory Macshane,” said Macdonald. “It’s up to me to look out for other cases where I could do the work and take the risk.”
“And good luck to you,” responded Don Whelpton.
THE END