But it was not at the curses, terrible as they were.

No, his amazement was of another kind altogether; for in the face and voice of this unhappy speaker he was forcibly reminded of one he once knew in very different scenes.

As the man went on he watched him keenly and earnestly.

He heeded not the oaths, or the taunts, or the threats which flowed from his lips; but as word followed word, and gesture gesture, and look look, he became gradually convinced that the resemblance was more than imaginary--that, indeed, this blaspheming convict was one whom he had once known and still remembered.
Walking up to him, and laying his hand on his shoulder, Jim said, quietly,-- "Tom Drift, do you remember me ?" The man started as for an instant he raised his eyes.

Then, letting them drop once more, he growled,-- "That's not my name; I don't know you.