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diff --git a/3242-h/3242-h.htm b/3242-h/3242-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2e02d8c --- /dev/null +++ b/3242-h/3242-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14125 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Doctor, by Ralph Connor + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Doctor, by Ralph Connor + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Doctor + A Tale Of The Rockies + +Author: Ralph Connor + +Release Date: June 3, 2006 [EBook #3242] +Last Updated: March 5, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOCTOR *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE DOCTOR + </h1> + <h2> + A TALE OF THE ROCKIES <br /> <br /> By Ralph Connor + </h2> + <hr /> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I </a> + </td> + <td> + THE OLD STONE MILL + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II </a> + </td> + <td> + THE DAUGHTER OF THE MANSE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III </a> + </td> + <td> + THE RAISING + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV </a> + </td> + <td> + THE DANCE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V </a> + </td> + <td> + THE NEW TEACHER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI </a> + </td> + <td> + THE YOUNG DOCTOR + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VII </a> + </td> + <td> + THE GOOD CHEER DEPARTMENT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIII </a> + </td> + <td> + BEN'S GANG + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> IX </a> + </td> + <td> + LOVE'S TANGLED WAYS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> X </a> + </td> + <td> + FOR A LADY'S HONOUR + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XI </a> + </td> + <td> + IOLA'S CHOICE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XII </a> + </td> + <td> + HE THAT LOVETH HIS LIFE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIII </a> + </td> + <td> + A MAN THAT IS AN HERETIC REJECT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIV </a> + </td> + <td> + WHOSOEVER LOOKETH UPON A WOMAN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XV </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SUPERINTENDENT'S METHODS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVI </a> + </td> + <td> + THE CHALLENGE OF DEATH + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVII </a> + </td> + <td> + THE FIGHT WITH DEATH + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVIII </a> + </td> + <td> + THE MEDICAL SUPERINTENDENT OF THE CROW'S NEST + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XIX </a> + </td> + <td> + THE LADY OF KUSKINOOK + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XX </a> + </td> + <td> + UNTIL SEVENTY TIMES SEVEN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XXI </a> + </td> + <td> + TO WHOM HE FORGAVE MOST + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XXII </a> + </td> + <td> + THE HEART'S REST + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XXIII </a> + </td> + <td> + THE LAST CALL + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXIV </a> + </td> + <td> + FOR LOVE'S SAKE + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + <br /> <br /> + </h2> + <h1> + THE DOCTOR + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <h3> + THE OLD STONE MILL + </h3> + <p> + There were two ways by which one could get to the Old Stone Mill. One, + from the sideroad by a lane which, edged with grassy, flower-decked banks, + wound between snake fences, along which straggled irregular clumps of + hazel and blue beech, dogwood and thorn bushes, and beyond which stretched + on one side fields of grain just heading out this bright June morning, and + on the other side a long strip of hay fields of mixed timothy and red + clover, generous of colour and perfume, which ran along the snake fence + till it came to a potato patch which, in turn, led to an orchard where the + lane began to drop down to the Mill valley. + </p> + <p> + At the crest of the hill travellers with even the merest embryonic + aesthetic taste were forced to pause. For there the valley with its sweet + loveliness lay in full view before them. Far away to the right, out of an + angle in the woods, ran the Mill Creek to fill the pond which brimmed + gleaming to the green bank of the dam. Beyond the pond a sloping grassy + sward showed green under an open beech and maple woods. On the hither side + of the pond an orchard ran down hill to the water's edge, and at the + nearer corner of the dam, among a clump of ancient willows, stood the Old + Stone Mill, with house attached, and across the mill yard the shed and + barn, all neat as a tidy housewife's kitchen. To the left of the mill, + with its green turf-clad dam and placid gleaming pond, wandered off green + fields of many shading colours, through which ran the Mill Creek, foaming + as if enraged that it should have been even for a brief space paused in + its flow to serve another's will. Then, beyond the many-shaded fields, + woods again, spruce and tamarack, where the stream entered, and maple and + beech on the higher levels. That was one way to the mill, the way the + farmers took with their grist or their oats for old Charley Boyle to + grind. + </p> + <p> + The other way came in by the McKenzies' lane from the Concession Line, + which ran at right angles to the sideroad. This was a mere foot path, + sometimes used by riders who came for a bag of flour or meal when the + barrel or bin had unawares run low. This path led through the beech and + maple woods to the farther end of the dam, where it divided, to the right + if one wished to go to the mill yard, and across the dam if one wished to + reach the house. From any point of view the Old Stone Mill, with its dam + and pond, its surrounding woods and fields and orchard, made a picture of + rare loveliness, and suggestive of deep fulness of peace. At least, the + woman standing at the dam, where the shade of the willows fell, found it + so. The beauty, the quiet of the scene, rested her; the full sweet harmony + of those many voices in which Nature pours forth herself on a summer day, + stole in upon her heart and comforted her. She was a woman of striking + appearance. Tall and straight she stood, a figure full of strength; her + dark face stamped with features that bespoke her Highland ancestry, her + black hair shot with silver threads, parting in waves over her forehead; + her eyes deep set, black and sombre, glowing with that mystic light that + shines only in eyes that have for generations peered into the gloom of + Highland glens. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, it's a bonny spot,” she sighed, her rugged face softening + as she gazed. “It's a bonny spot, and it would be a sore thing to + part it.” + </p> + <p> + As she stood looking and listening her face changed. Through the hum of + the mill there pierced now and then the notes of a violin. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that weary fiddle!” she said with an impatient shake of + her head. But in a few moments the impatience in her face passed into + tender pity. “Ah, well, well,” she sighed, “poor man, it + is the kind heart he has, whateffer.” + </p> + <p> + She passed down the bank into the house, then through the large + living-room, speckless in its thrifty order, into a longer room that + joined house to mill. She glanced at the tall clock that stood beside the + door. “Mercy me!” she cried, “it's time my own work was + done. But I'll just step in and see—” She opened the door + leading to the mill and stood silent. A neat little man with cheery, rosy + face, clean-shaven, and with a mass of curly hair tinged with grey hanging + about his forehead, was seated upon a chair tipped back against the wall, + playing a violin with great vigour and unmistakable delight. + </p> + <p> + “The mill's a-workin', mother,” he cried without stopping his + flying fingers, “and I'm keepin' my eye upon her.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head reproachfully at her husband. “Ay, the mill is + workin' indeed, but it's not of the mill you're thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what then?” he cried cheerily, still playing. + </p> + <p> + “It is of that raising and of the dancing, I'll be bound you.” + </p> + <p> + “Wrong, mother,” replied the little man exultant. “Sure + you're wrong. Listen to this. What is it now?” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” cried the woman, “how do I know?” + </p> + <p> + “But listen, Elsie, darlin',” he cried, dropping into his + Irish brogue. “Don't you mind—” and on he played for a + few minutes. “Now you mind, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I mind, 'The Lass o' Gowrie.' But what of it?” she + cried, heroically struggling to maintain her stern appearance. + </p> + <p> + But even as she spoke her face, so amazing in its power of swiftly + changing expression, took on a softer look. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, there you are,” cried the little man in triumph, “now + I know you remember. And it's twenty-four years to-morrow, Elsie, darlin', + since—” He suddenly dropped his violin on some meal bags at + his side and sprang toward her. + </p> + <p> + “Go away with you.” She closed the door quickly behind her. + “Whisht now! Be quate now, I'm sayin'. You're just as foolish as + ever you were.” + </p> + <p> + “Foolish? No mother, not foolish, but wise yon time, although it's + foolish enough I've been often since. And,” he added with a sigh, + “it's not much luck I've brought you, except for the boys. They'll + do, perhaps, what I've not done.” + </p> + <p> + “Whisht now, lad,” said his wife, patting his shoulder gently, + for a great tenderness flowed over her eloquent face. “What has come + to you to-day? Go away now to your work,” she added in her former + tone, “there's the hay waiting, you know well. Go now and I'll watch + the grist.” + </p> + <p> + “And why would you watch the grist, mother?” said a voice from + the mill door, as a young man of eighteen years stepped inside. He was his + mother's son. The same swarthy, rugged face, the same deep-set, sombre + eyes, the same suggestion of strength in every line of his body, of power + in every move he made and of passion in every glance. “Indeed, you + will do no such thing. Dad'll watch the grist and I'll slash down the hay + in no time. And do you know, mother,” he continued in a tone of + suppressed excitement, “have you heard the big news?” His + mother waited. “He's coming home to-day. He's coming with the + Murrays, and Alec will bring him to the raising.” + </p> + <p> + A throb of light swept across the mother's face, but she only said in a + voice calm and steady, “Well, you'd better get that hay down. It'll + be late enough before it is in.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to her, Barney,” cried her husband scornfully. “And + she'll not be going to the raising today, either. The boy'll be home by + one in the morning, and sure that's time enough.” + </p> + <p> + Barney stood looking at his mother with a quiet smile on his face. “We + will have dinner early,” he said, “and I'll just take a turn + at the hay.” + </p> + <p> + She turned and entered the house without a word, while he took down the + scythe from its peg, removed the blade from the snath and handed it to his + father. + </p> + <p> + “Give it a turn or two,” he said; “you're better than me + at this.” + </p> + <p> + “Here then,” replied his father, handing him the violin, + “and you're better at this.” + </p> + <p> + “They would not say so to-night, Dad,” replied the lad as he + took the violin from his father's hands, looking it over reverently. In a + very few minutes his father came back with the scythe ready for work; and + Barney, fastening it to the snath, again set off up the lane. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <h3> + THE DAUGHTER OF THE MANSE + </h3> + <p> + Two hours later, down from the dusty sideroad, a girl swinging a milk pail + in her hand turned into the mill lane. As she stepped from the glare and + dust of the highroad into the lane, it seemed as if Nature had been + waiting to find in her the touch that makes perfect; so truly, in all her + fresh daintiness, did she seem a bit of that green shady lane with its + sweet fragrance and its fresh beauty. + </p> + <p> + It had taken sixteen years of wholesome country life to round that supple + form into its firm lines of grace, and to tint those moulded cheeks with + the dainty bloom that seemed a reflection from the thistle heads that + nodded at her through the snake fence. It had taken sixteen years of + pure-hearted, joyous living to lend those eyes, azure as the sky above, + their brave, clear glance; sixteen years of unsullied maidenhood to endow + her with that divine something of mystery which, with its shy reserve and + fearless trust, awakens reverence and rebukes impurity as with the vision + of God. + </p> + <p> + Her sunbonnet, fallen back from her yellow hair, shining golden in the + sun, revealed a face strong, brave and kind, with just a touch of pride. + The pride showed most, however, in the poise of her head and the carriage + of her shoulders. But when the mobile lips parted in a smile over the + straight rows of white teeth one forgot the pride and thought only of the + soft persuasive lips. + </p> + <p> + As she sprang up the green turf, she drew in deep breaths of + clover-scented air, and exclaimed aloud, “Oh, this is good!” + She peeped through the snake fence at the luscious rich masses of red + clover. “What a bed!” she cried; “I believe I'll try it.” + Over the fence she sprang, and in a thorn tree's shade, deep in the + fragrant blossoms, she stretched herself at full length upon her back. For + some minutes she lay in the luxury of that fragrant bed looking up through + the spreading thorn tree branches to the blue sky with its floating, + fleecy clouds far overhead. The lazy drone of the bees in the clover + beside her, the languorous summer airs swaying into gentle nodding the + timothy stalks just above her head, and all the soothing sounds of a + summer morning, that many-voiced choir that sings to the great God + Nature's glad content that all is so very good, rested and comforted the + girl's heart and body, making her know as she had not known before how + very weary she had been and how deep an ache her heart had held. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's good!” she cried again, stretching her hands at full + length above her head. “I wish I could stay for one whole day, just + here in the clover with the bees and the birds and the trees and the + clouds and the blue sky, no children, no dinner, no tidying up.” + </p> + <p> + As she lay there it seemed to her as if she had thrown off for the moment + the load she had been carrying for many months. For a year she had tried + to fill in the minister's household her mother's place. Without a day's + warning the burden had been laid upon her shoulders, but with the fine + courage that youth and love combine to give, denying herself even the poor + luxury of indulgence of the grief that had fallen upon her young heart, + she had given herself, without thought of anything heroic in her giving, + to the caring for the house and the household, and the comforting as best + she could of her father, suddenly bereft of her who had been to him not + wife alone, but comrade and counsellor as well. Without a thought, she had + at once surrendered all the bright plans that she, with her mother, had + cherished for the cultivation of her varied talents, and had turned to the + dull, monotonous routine of household duties with never a thought but that + she must do it. There was no one else. + </p> + <p> + “I believe I am tired,” she said again aloud; then letting her + heart follow her eyes into and beyond the blue above her, she cried + softly, “O mother, how tired you must have been with it all, and how + much you did for me! For me, great, big lump that I am! Dear little + mother. Oh, if I had only known! Oh, we were all so thoughtless!” + She stretched up her hands again to the blue sky with its fleecy clouds. + “For your sake, mother dear,” she whispered. Not often had any + seen those brave eyes dim with tears. Not often since that day when they + had carried her mother out from the Manse and left her behind with the + weeping, clinging children, and even now she hastily wiped the tears away, + chiding herself the while. “I never saw HER cry,” she said to + herself, “not once, except for some of us. And I will try. I MUST + try. It is hard to give up,” and again the tears welled up in the + brave blue eyes. “Nonsense,” she cried impatiently, sitting up + straight, “don't be a big, selfish baby. They're just the dearest + little darlings in the world, and I'll do my best for them.” + </p> + <p> + Her moment of self-pity was gone in a flood of shamed indignation. She + locked her hands round her knees and looked about her. “It is a + beautiful world after all. And how near the beauty is to us; just over the + fence and you are in the thick of it. Oh, but this is great!” Once + more she rolled in an ecstasy of luxurious delight in the clover and lay + again supine, revelling in that riot of caressing sounds and scents. + </p> + <p> + “Kir-r-r-ink-a-chink, kir-r-r-ink-a-chink—” + </p> + <p> + She sprang up alert and listening. “That is old Charley, I suppose, + or Barney, perhaps, sharpening his scythe.” She climbed up the + conveniently jutting ends of the fence rails and looked over the field. + </p> + <p> + “It's Barney,” she said, shading her eyes with her hand; + “I wonder he does not cut his fingers.” She sat herself down + upon the top rail and leaned against the stake. + </p> + <p> + “My! what a sweep,” she said in admiring tones as the young + man swayed to and fro in all the rhythmic grace of the mower's stride, + swinging easily now backward the curving blade and then forward in a + cutting sweep, clean and swift, laying the even swath. Alas! the + clattering machine-knives have driven off from our hay-fields the mower's + art with all its rhythmic grace. + </p> + <p> + Those were days when men were famous according as they could “cut + off the heels of a rival mower.” There are that grieve that, one by + one, from field and from forest, are banished those ancient arts of daily + toil by which men were wont to prove their might, their skill of hand and + eye, their invincible endurance. But there still offer in life's stern + daily fight full opportunity to prove manhood in ways less picturesque + perhaps, but no less truly testing. + </p> + <p> + Down the swath came Barney, his sinewy body swinging in very poetry of + motion. + </p> + <p> + “Doesn't he do it well!” said the girl, following with + admiring eyes every movement of his well-poised frame. “How big he + is! Why—” and her blue eyes widened with startled surprise, + “he's almost a man!” The tint of the thistle bloom deepened in + her cheek. She glanced down and made as if to spring to the ground; then + settling herself resolutely back against her fence stake, she exclaimed, + “Pshaw! I don't care. He is just a boy. Anyway, I'm not going to + mind Barney Boyle.” + </p> + <p> + On came the mower in mighty sweeps, cutting the swath clean out to the + end. + </p> + <p> + “Well done!” cried the girl. “You'll be cutting off Long + John's heels in a year or so.” + </p> + <p> + “A year or so! If I can't do it to-day I never can. But I don't want + to blow.” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't. They're all talking about you, with your binding and + pitching and cradling, and what not.” + </p> + <p> + “They are, are they? Who is good enough to waste breath on me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, everybody. The McKenzie girls were just telling me the other + day.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pshaw! I ran away from their crowd, but that's nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “And I suppose you have not an idea how nice you look as you go + swinging along?” + </p> + <p> + “Do I? That's the only time then.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, now you're fishing, and I'm not going to bite. Where did you + learn the scythe?” + </p> + <p> + “Where? Right here where we had to, Dick and I. By the way, he's + coming home to-day.” He glanced at her face quickly as he said this, + but her face showed only a frank pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “To-day? Good. Won't your mother be glad?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And some other people, too,” said Barney. + </p> + <p> + “And who, particularly?” + </p> + <p> + A sudden shyness seemed to seize the young man, but recovering himself, + “Well, I guess I will, myself, a little. This is the first time he + has ever been away. We never slept a night apart from each other as long + as I can mind till he went to college last year. He used to put his arm + just round me here,” touching his breast. “I'll tell you the + first nights after he went I used to feel for him in the dark and be sick + to find the place empty.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the girl doubtfully, “I hope he won't be + different. College does make a difference, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Different! Dick! He'd better not. I'll thrash the daylights out of + him. But he won't be different. Not to us, nor,” he added shyly, + “to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, to me?” She laughed lightly. “He had better not try + any airs with me.” + </p> + <p> + “What would you do?” inquired Barney. “You couldn't take + it out of his hide.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'd fix him. I'd take him down,” she replied with a + knowing shake of her head. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Dick! He's in for a hard time,” replied Barney. “But + nothing can change Dick. And I am awful glad he's coming to-day, in time + for the raising, too.” + </p> + <p> + “The raising? Oh, yes. The McLeods'. Yes, I remember. And,” + regretfully, “a big supper and a big spree afterwards in the new + barn.” + </p> + <p> + “Are not you going?” inquired Barney. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. They want me to go to help, but I don't think I'll + go. I don't think father would like me to go, and,”—a pause—“anyway, + I don't think I can get away.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pshaw! Get Old Nancy in. She can take care of the children for + once. You would like the raising. It's great fun.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! wouldn't I, though? It's fine to see them racing. They get so + wild and yell so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, come on then. You must come. They'll all be disappointed, if + you don't. And Dick is coming that way, too. Alec Murray is to bring him + on his way home from town.” Again Barney glanced keenly at her face, + but he saw only puzzled uncertainty there. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know. We'll see. At any rate, I must go now.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” cried Barney, “I'll go with you. We're having + dinner early to-day.” He hung up the scythe in the thorn tree and + threw the stone at the foot. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would promise to come,” he said earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you, really?” The blue eyes turned full upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I do. It will be lots better fun if you are there.” + The frank, boyish honesty of his tone seemed to disappoint the blue eyes. + Together in silence they set off down the lane. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, resuming their conversation, “I don't + think I can go, but I'll see. You'll be playing for the dancing, I + suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I won't play if Dan is around, and I guess he'll be there. I + may spell him a little perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you'll be dancing yourself. You're great at that, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Me? Not much. It's Dick. Oh, he's a dandy! He's a bird! You ought + to see him! I'll make him do the Highland Fling.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dick, Dick!” she cried impatiently, “everything is + Dick with you.” + </p> + <p> + Barney glanced at her, and after a moment's pause said, “Yes. I + guess you're right. Everything is pretty much Dick with me. Next to my + mother, Dick is the finest in all the world.” + </p> + <p> + At the crest of the hill they stood looking silently upon the scene spread + out before them. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said Barney, “if I live to be a hundred years, + I can't forget that,” and he waved his hand over the valley. Then he + continued, “I tell you what, with the moon just over the pond there + making a track of light across the pond—” She glanced shyly at + him. The sombre eyes were looking far away. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” she said softly; “it must be lovely.” + </p> + <p> + Through the silence that followed there rose and fell with musical cadence + a call long and clear, “Who-o-o-hoo.” + </p> + <p> + “That's mother,” said Barney, answering the call with a quick + shout. “You'll be in time for dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Dinner!” she cried with a gasp. “I'll have to get my + buttermilk and other things and hurry home.” And she ran at full + speed down the hill and into the mill yard, followed by Barney protesting + that it was too hot to run. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, Mrs. Boyle?” she panted. “I'm in an awful + hurry. I'm after father's buttermilk and that recipe, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Boyle's eyes rested lovingly upon her flushed face. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, there's no hurry, Margaret. Barney should not be letting + you run.” + </p> + <p> + “Letting me!” she laughed defiantly. “Indeed, he had all + he could do to keep up.” + </p> + <p> + “And that I had,” said Barney, “and, mother, tell her + she must come to the raising.” + </p> + <p> + “And are you not going?” said the older woman. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so. You know father—well, he wouldn't care for + me to be at the dance.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I know,” quickly replied Mrs. Boyle, “but you + might just come with me and look quietly on. And, indeed, the change will + be doing you good. I will just call for you, and speak to your father this + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know, Mrs. Boyle. I hardly think I ought.” + </p> + <p> + “Hoots, lassie! Come away, then, into the milk-house.” + </p> + <p> + Back among the overhanging willows stood the little whitewashed log + milkhouse, built over a little brook that gurgled clear and cool over the + gravelly floor. + </p> + <p> + “What a lovely place,” said Margaret, stepping along the foot + stones. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, it's clean and sweet,” said Mrs. Boyle. “And that + is what you most need with the milk and butter.” + </p> + <p> + She took up an earthen jar from the gravelly bed and filled the girl's + pail with buttermilk. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mrs. Boyle. And now for that recipe for the scones.” + </p> + <p> + “Och, yes!” said Mrs. Boyle. “There's no recipe at all. + It is just this way—” And she elucidated the mysteries of + sconemaking. + </p> + <p> + “But they will not taste a bit like yours, I'm sure,” cried + Margaret, in despair. + </p> + <p> + “Never you fear, lassie. You hurry away home now and get your dinner + past, and we will call for you on our way.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, lassie,” she cried, “your father will like this. + It is only churned th' day.” She rolled a pat of butter in a clean + linen cloth, laid it between two rhubarb leaves and set it in a small + basket. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye,” said the girl as she kissed the dark cheek. + “You're far too kind to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor lassie, poor lassie, I would I could be kinder. It's a good + girl you are, and a brave one.” + </p> + <p> + “Not very brave, I fear,” replied the girl, as she quickly + turned away and ran up the hill and out of sight. + </p> + <p> + “Poor motherless lassie,” said Mrs. Boyle, looking after her + with loving eyes; “it's a heavy care she has, and the minister, poor + man, he can't see it. Well, well, she has the promise.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <h3> + THE RAISING + </h3> + <p> + The building of a bank-barn was a watershed in farm chronology. Toward + that event or from it the years took their flight. For many summers the + big boulders were gathered from the fields and piled in a long heap at the + bottom of the lane on their way to their ultimate destination, the + foundation of the bank-barn. During the winter, previous the “timber + was got out.” From the forest trees, maple, beech or elm—for + the pine was long since gone—the main sills, the plates, the posts + and cross-beams were squared and hauled to the site of the new barn. + Hither also the sand from the pit at the big hill, and the stone from the + heap at the bottom of the lane, were drawn. And before the snow had quite + gone the lighter lumber—flooring, scantling, sheeting and shingles—were + marshalled to the scene of action. Then with the spring the masons and + framers appeared and began their work of organising from this mass of + material the structure that was to be at once the pride of the farm and + the symbol of its prosperity. + </p> + <p> + From the very first the enterprise was carried on under the acknowledged, + but none the less critical, observation of the immediate neighbourhood. + For instance, it had been a matter of free discussion whether “them + timbers of McLeod's new barn wasn't too blamed heavy,” and it was + Jack McKenzie's openly expressed opinion that “one of them 'purline + plates' was so all-fired crooked that it would do for both sides at onct.” + But the confidence of the community in Jack Murray, framer, was + sufficiently strong to allay serious forebodings. And by the time the + masons had set firm and solid the many-coloured boulders in the + foundation, the community at large had begun to take interest in the + undertaking. + </p> + <p> + The McLeod raising was to be an event of no ordinary importance. It had + the distinction of being, in the words of Jack Murray, framer, “the + biggest thing in buildin's ever seen in them parts.” Indeed, so + magnificent were its dimensions that Ben Fallows, who stood just five feet + in his stocking soles, and was, therefore, a man of considerable + importance in his estimation, was overheard to exclaim with an air of + finality, “What! two twenty-foot floors and two thirty-foot mows! It + cawn't be did.” Such was, therefore, the magnitude of the + undertaking, and such the far-famed hospitality of the McLeods, that no + man within the range of the family acquaintance who was not sick, or away + from home, or prevented by some special act of Providence, failed to + appear at the raising that day. + </p> + <p> + It was still the early afternoon, but most of the men invited were already + there when the mill people drove up in the family democrat. The varied + shouts of welcome that greeted them proclaimed their popularity. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Barney! Good-day, Mrs. Boyle,” said Mr. McLeod, who + stood at the gate receiving his guests. + </p> + <p> + “Ye've brought the baby, I see, Charley, me boy,” shouted Tom + Magee, a big, good-natured son of Erin, the richness of whose brogue + twenty years of life in Canada had failed to impoverish. + </p> + <p> + “We could hardly leave the baby at home to-day,” replied the + miller, as with tender care he handed the green bag containing his + precious violin to his wife. + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, Mr. Boyle,” replied Mr. McLeod. “The girls + yonder would hardly forgive us if Charley Boyle's fiddle were not to the + fore. You'll find some oats in the granary, Barney. Come along, Mrs. + Boyle. The wife will be glad of your help to keep those wild colts in + order yonder, eh, Margaret, lassie?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, it is not Margaret Robertson that will be needing to be + kept in order,” replied Mrs. Boyle. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you be too sure of that, Mrs. Boyle,” replied Mr. + McLeod. “A girl with an eye and a chin like that may break through + any time, and then woe betide you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I warn you, don't try the curb on me,” said Margaret, + springing lightly over the wheel and turning away with Mrs. Boyle toward + the house, which was humming with that indescribable but altogether + bewitching medley of sounds that only a score or two of girls overflowing + with life can produce. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, Charley,” roared Magee. “We're waitin' to + make ye the boss.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Tom,” replied the little man, with a quiet + chuckle. “If you make me the boss, here's my orders, Up you get + yourself and take hold of the gang. What do you say, men?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, that's it.” “Tom it is.” “Jump in, Tom,” + were the answering shouts. + </p> + <p> + “Aw now,” said Tom, “there's better than me here. Take + Big Angus there. He's the man fer ye! Or what's the matter wid me frind, + Rory Ross? It's the foine boss he'd make fer yez! Sure, he'll put the fire + intil ye!” + </p> + <p> + There was a general laugh at this reference to the brilliant colour of + Rory's hair and face. + </p> + <p> + “Never you mind Rory Ross, Tom Magee,” said the fiery-headed, + fiery-hearted little Highlander. “When he's wanted, ye'll not find + him far away, I'se warrant ye.” + </p> + <p> + There was no love lost between the two men. Both were framers, both famous + captains, and more than once had they led the opposing forces at raisings. + The awkward silence following Rory's hot speech was relieved by Charley + Boyle's ready wit. + </p> + <p> + “We'll divide the work, boys,” he said. “Some men do the + liftin' and others the yellin'. Tom and me'll do the yellin'.” + </p> + <p> + A roar of laughter rose at Tom's expense, whose reputation as a worker was + none too brilliant. + </p> + <p> + “All right then, boys,” roared Tom. “Ye'll have to take + it. Git togither an' quit yer blowin'.” He cast an experienced eye + over the ground where the huge timbers were strewn about in what to the + uninitiated would seem wild confusion. + </p> + <p> + “Them's the sills,” he cried. “Where's the skids?” + </p> + <p> + “Right under yer nose, Tom,” said the framer quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Here they are, lads. Git up thim skids! Now thin, fer the sills. + Grab aholt, min, they're not hot! All togither-r-r—heave! + Togither-r-r—heave! Once more, heave! Walk her up, boys! Walk her + up! Come on, Angus! Where's yer porridge gone to? Move over, two av ye! + Don't take advantage av a little man loike that!” Angus was just six + feet four. “Now thin, yer pikes! Shove her along! Up she is! Steady! + Cant her over! How's that, framer? More to the east, is it? Climb up on + her, ye cats, an' dig in yer claws! Now thin, east wid her! Togither-r-r—heave! + Aw now, where are ye goin'? Don't be too rambunctious! Ye'll be afther + knockin' a hole in to-morrow mornin'. Back a little now! Whoa! How's that, + framer? Will that suit yer riverence? All right. Now thin, the nixt! Look + lively there! The gurls are comin' down to pick the winners, an a small + chance there'll be fer some of yez.” + </p> + <p> + And so with this running fire of exhortation, more or less pungent, the + sills were got in place upon the walls, pinned and spliced. + </p> + <p> + “Now thin, min fer the bints!” + </p> + <p> + The “bents” were the cross sections of heavy square timbers + which, fastened together with cross ties, formed the framework of the + barn. Dividing his men into groups, the bents were put together on the + barn floor, and, one by one, raised into their places, each one being + firmly joined to the one previously erected. + </p> + <p> + “Mind yer braces, now, an' yer pins!” admonished Tom. “We + don't want no slitherin' timbers round here when we get into the ruction a + little later on!” + </p> + <p> + In spite of all Tom's tumultuous vocal energy, it was nearly five before + the last bent was reached. One by one they had fitted into their places, + but not without some few hitches, each of which was the occasion for an + outburst of exhortations on the part of the boss, more or less sulphurous, + although the presence of the ladies interfered very considerably with + Tom's fluency in this regard. He worked his men like galley slaves, and + rowed them unmercifully. But for the most part they took it all with good + humour, though some few who had the misfortune to fall specially under his + tongue began to show signs that the lash had bitten into the raw. The + timbers of the last bent were specially heavy, and the men, more or less + fagged with their hard driving, didn't spring to their work with the + alacrity that Tom deemed suitable. + </p> + <p> + “At it, min!” he roared. “Snatch it alive! Begob, ye'd + think it was plate glass ye're liftin', ye're so tinder about it! Now + thin! Togither-r-r—heave! Once again, heave! Ye didn't git it an + inch that time! Stidy there a minute! Here you min on that pike, what in + the blank, blank are ye bunchin' in one ind loike a swarm av bees on a + cowld day! Shift over there, will ye!” + </p> + <p> + In obedience to the word two pike-poles were withdrawn at the same moment, + leaving only a single pike with Big Angus and two others to sustain the + full weight of the heavy timbers. Immediately the bent swayed backward as + if to fall upon the throng below. Some of the men sprang back from under + the huge bent. It was a moment of supreme peril. + </p> + <p> + “Howld there, fer yer lives, ye divils!” howled Tom, “or + the hull of ye'll be in hell in two howly minutes.” + </p> + <p> + At the cry Barney and Rory sprang to Angus's side and threw themselves + upon the pike. Immediately they were followed by others, and the calamity + was averted. + </p> + <p> + “Up wid her now thin, me lads, God bliss ye!” cried Tom. But + there was a new note in Tom's voice, the note that is heard when men stand + in the presence of serious danger. There was no more pause. The bent was + walked up to its place, pinned and made secure. Tom sprang down from the + building, his face white, his voice shaking. “Give me yer hand, + Barney Boyle, an' yours, Rory Ross, for be all the saints an' the Blessid + Virgin, ye saved min's lives this day!” + </p> + <p> + Around the two crowded the men, shaking their hands and clapping them on + the back with varied exclamations. “You're the lads!” “Good + boys!” “You're the stuff!” “Put it there!” + </p> + <p> + “What are ye doin' to us?” cried Rory at last; “I didn't + see anything happen. Did you, Barney?” + </p> + <p> + “We did, though,” answered the crowd. + </p> + <p> + For once Tom Magee was silent. He walked about among the crowd chewing + hard upon his quid of tobacco, fighting to recover his nerve. He had seen + as no other of the men the terrible catastrophe from which the men had + been saved. It was Charley Boyle that again relieved the strain. + </p> + <p> + “Did any of you hear the cowbell?” he said. “It strikes + me it's not quitting time yet. Better get your captains, hadn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Rory and Tom for captains!” cried a voice. + </p> + <p> + “Not me, by the powers!” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come on, Tom. You'll be all right. Get your men.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, am I? Be jabbers, I couldn't hit a pin onct in the same + place, let alone twice. By me sowl, min, it's a splash of blood an' brains + I've jist been lookin' at, an' that's true fer ye. Take Barney there. He's + the man, I kin tell ye.” + </p> + <p> + This suggestion caught the crowd's fancy. + </p> + <p> + “Barney it is!” “Rory and Barney!” they yelled. + </p> + <p> + “Me!” cried Barney, seeking to escape through the crowd. + “I have never done anything but carry pins and braces at a raising + all my life.” + </p> + <p> + There was a loud laugh of scorn, for no man in all the crowd had Barney's + reputation for agility, nerve and quickness. + </p> + <p> + “Carry pins, is it?” said Tom. “Ye can carry yer head + level, me boy. So at it ye go, an' ye'll bate Rory fer me, so ye will.” + </p> + <p> + “Well then,” cried Barney, “I will, if you give me first + choice, and I'll take Tom here.” + </p> + <p> + “Hooray!” yelled Tom, “I'm wid ye.” So it was + agreed, and in a few minutes the sides were chosen, little Ben Fallows + falling to Rory as last choice. + </p> + <p> + “We'll give ye Ben,” said Tom, whose nerve was coming back to + him. “We don't want to hog on ye too much.” + </p> + <p> + “Never you mind, Ben,” said Rory, as the little Englishman + strutted to his place among Rory's men. “You'll earn your supper + to-day with the best of them.” + </p> + <p> + “If I cawn't hearn it I can heat it, by Jove!” cried Ben, to + the huge delight of the crowd. + </p> + <p> + And now the thrilling moment had arrived, for from this point out there + was to be a life-and-death contest as to which side should complete each + its part of the structure first. The main plates, the “purline” + plates, posts and braces, the rafters and collar beams, must all be set + securely in position. The side whose last man was first down from the + building after its work was done claimed the victory. In two opposing + lines a hundred men stood, hats, coats, vests and, in case of those told + off to “ride” the plates, boots discarded. A brawny, sinewy + lot they were, quick of eye and steady of nerve, strong of hand and sure + of foot, men to be depended upon whether to raise a barn or to build an + empire. The choice of sides fell to Rory, who took the north, or bank, + side. + </p> + <p> + “Niver fret, Barney,” cried Tom Magee, who in the near + approach of battle was his own man again. “Niver ye fret. It's + birrds we are, an' the more air for us the better.” + </p> + <p> + Between the sides stood the framer ready to give the word. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't they splendid!” said Margaret in a low tone to Mrs. + Boyle, her cheek pale and her blue eyes blazing with excitement. “Oh, + if I were only a boy!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Mrs. Boyle, “ye'd be riding the plate, I + doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't I, though! My! they're fine!” answered the girl, + with her eyes upon Barney. And more eyes than hers were upon the young + captain, whose rugged face showed pale even at that distance. + </p> + <p> + “Now then, men,” cried the framer. “Mind your pins. Are + you ready?” holding his hat high in the air. + </p> + <p> + “Ready,” answered Rory. + </p> + <p> + Barney nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Git then!” he cried, flinging his hat hard on the ground. + Like hounds after a hare in full sight, like racers springing from the + tape, they leaped at the timbers, every man to his place, yelling like men + possessed. At once the admiring female friends broke into rival camps, + wildly enthusiastic, fiercely partisan. + </p> + <p> + “Well done, Rory! He's up first!” cried a girl whose brilliant + complexion and still more brilliant locks proclaimed her relationship to + the captain of the north side. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! Barney'll soon catch him, you'll see,” cried Margaret. + “Oh, Barney, hurry! hurry!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, he will need to hurry,” cried Rory's sister, + mercilessly exultant. “He's up! He's up!” + </p> + <p> + Sure enough, Rory, riding the first half of his plate over the bent, had + just “broken it down,” and in half a minute, seized by the men + detailed for this duty, it was in its place upon the posts. Like cats, + three men with mauls were upon it driving the pins home just as the second + half was making its appearance over the bent, to be seized and placed and + pinned as its mate had been. + </p> + <p> + “He's won! He's won!” shrieked Rory's admiring faction. + </p> + <p> + “Barney! Barney!” screamed his contingent reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “Well done, Rory! Keep at it! You've got them beaten!” + </p> + <p> + “Beaten, indeed!” was the scornful reply. “Just wait a + minute.” + </p> + <p> + “They're at the 'purlines'!” shrieked Rory's sister, and her + friends, proceeding to scream wildly after the female method of expressing + emotion under such circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “My!” sniffed a contemptuous member of Barney's faction, + suffering unutterable pangs of humiliation. “Some people don't mind + making a show of themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Barney! why don't you hurry?” cried Margaret, to whose + eager spirit Barney's movements seemed painfully and almost wilfully slow. + </p> + <p> + But Barney had laid his plans. Dividing his men into squads, he had been + carrying out the policy of simultaneous preparation, and while part of his + men had been getting the plates to their places, others had been making + ready the “purlines” and laying the rafters in order so that, + although beaten by Rory in the initial stages of the struggle, when once + his plates were in position, while Rory's men were rushing about in more + or less confusion after their rafters, Barney's purlins and rafters moved + to their positions as if by magic. Consequently, though when they arrived + at the rafters Barney was half a dozen behind, the rest of his rafters + were lifted almost as one into their places. + </p> + <p> + At once the ranks of Barney's faction, which up to this point had been + enduring the poignant pangs of what looked like humiliating defeat, rose + in a tumult of triumph to heights of bliss inexpressible, save by a series + of ear-piercing but altogether rapturous shrieks. + </p> + <p> + “They're down! They're down!” screamed Margaret, dancing in an + ecstasy of joy, while hand over hand down posts, catching at braces, + slipping, sliding, springing, the men of both sides kept dropping from + incredible distances to the ground. Suddenly through all the tumultuous + shouts of victory a heart-rending scream rang out, followed by a + shuddering groan and dead silence. One-half of Rory's purlin plate slipped + from its splicing, the pin having been neglected in the furious haste, and + swinging free, fell crashing through the timbers upon the scurrying, + scrambling men below. On its way it swept off the middle bent Rory, who + was madly entreating a laggard to drop to the earth, but who, flung by + good fortune against a brace, clung there. On the plate went in its path + of destruction, missing several men by hairs' breadths, but striking at + last with smashing cruel force across the ankle of poor little Ben + Fallows, in the act of sliding down a post to the ground. In a moment two + or three men were beside him. He was lifted up groaning and screaming and + carried to an open grassy spot. After some moments of confusion Barney was + seen to emerge from the crowd and hurry after his horse. A stretcher was + hastily knocked together, a mattress and pillow placed thereon, to which + Ben, still groaning piteously, was tenderly lifted. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go wid ye,” said Tom Magee, throwing on his coat and + hat. + </p> + <p> + Before they drove out of the yard the little Englishman pulled himself + together. “Stop a bit, Barney,” he said. He beckoned Rory to + his side. “Tell them,” he said between his gasps, “not + to spoil their supper for me. I cawn't heat my share, but I guess perhaps + I hearned it.” + </p> + <p> + “And that you did, lad,” cried Rory. “No man better, and + I'll tell them.” + </p> + <p> + The men who were standing near and who had heard Ben's words broke out + into admiring expletives, “Good boy, Benny!” “Benny's + the stuff!” till finally someone swinging his hat in the air cried, + “Three cheers for Benny!” and the feelings of the crowd, held + in check for so many minutes, at length found expression in three times + three, and with the cheers ringing in his ears and with a smile upon his + drawn face, poor Ben, forgetting his agony for the time, was borne away on + his three-mile drive to the doctor. + </p> + <p> + The raising was over, but no man asked which side had won. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <h3> + THE DANCE + </h3> + <p> + The dance was well on when Barney and Tom drove up to the McLeods' gate. + They were met by Margaret and Barney's mother, who, with a group of girls + and Mr. McLeod, had been waiting for them. As they drove into the yard + they were met at once with eager questions as to the condition and fate of + the unhappy Ben. + </p> + <p> + “Ben, is it?” said Tom. “Indeed, it's a hero we've + discovered. He stud it like a brick. An' I'm not sure but there are two av + thim,” he said, jerking his thumb toward Barney. “Ye ought to + have seen him stand there houldin' the light an' passin' the doctor + sthrings, an' the blood spoutin' like a stuck pig. What happened afther, + it's mesilf can't tell ye at all, for I was restin' quietly by mesilf on + the floor on the broad av me back, an' naither av thim takin' annythin' to + do wid me except to drown me wid watther betune times. Indeed, it's + himsilf is the born doctor, an' so he is,” continued Tom, warming to + his theme, “for wid his hands red wid blood an' his face as white as + yer apron, ma'am, niver a shiver did he give until the last knot was tied + an' the last stitch was sewed. Bedad! there's not a man in the county + could do the same.” + </p> + <p> + There was no stopping Tom in his recital, and after many attempts Barney + finally gave it up, and began unhitching his horse. Meantime the sound of + the dancing had ceased, and suddenly up through the silence there rose a + voice in song to the accompaniment of some stringed instrument. It was an + arresting voice. The group about the horse stood perfectly still as the + voice rose and soared and sank and rose again in an old familiar + plantation air. + </p> + <p> + “Who in thunder is that?” cried Barney, turning to his mother. + </p> + <p> + But his mother shook her head. “Indeed, I know not, but it's likely + yon strange girl that came out from town with the Murrays.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” cried Teenie Ross, Rory's sister, with a little toss + of her head, “Alec told me. She is the girl who has come to take the + teacher's place for a month. She is the niece of Sheriff Hossie. Her + father was a colonel in the Southern army, California or Virginia or some + place, I don't just remember. Oh! I know all about her, Alec told me,” + continued Teenie with a knowing shake of her ruddy curls. “And + she'll have a string of hearts dangling to her apron, if she wears one, + before the month is out, so you'd better mind out, Barney.” + </p> + <p> + But Barney was not heeding her. “Hush!” he said, holding up + his hand, for again the voice was rising up clear and full into the night + silence. Even Teenie's chatter was subdued and no one moved till the verse + was finished. + </p> + <p> + “She'll be needing a boarding house, Barney,” continued Teenie + wickedly. “You'll just need to take her with you to the Mill.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, and there will be no such lassie as yon in my house,” + said the mother, speaking sharply. + </p> + <p> + “She has no mother,” said Margaret softly, “and she will + need a place.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that she will,” replied Mrs. Boyle, “and I know + very well where she will be going, too, and you with four little ones to + do for, not to speak of the minister, the hardest of the lot.” Mrs. + Boyle was evidently seriously angered. + </p> + <p> + “Man! What a voice!” breathed Barney, and, making fast the + horse to the waggon, he set off for the barn apparently oblivious of all + about him. + </p> + <p> + “Begorra, ma'am, an' savin' yer prisince, there's nobody knows + what's in that lad. But he'll stir the world yit, an' so he will. An' + that's what the ould Doctor said, so it was.” + </p> + <p> + When Barney reached the barn floor the Southern girl had just finished her + song, and with her guitar still in her hands was idly strumming its + strings. The moonlight fell about her in a flood so bright as to reveal + the ivory pallor of her face and the lustrous depths of her dark eyes. It + was a face of rare and romantic beauty framed in soft, fluffy, dark hair, + brushed high off the forehead and gathered in a Greek knot at the back of + her head. But besides the beauty of face and eyes, there was an air of + gentle, appealing innocence that awakened the chivalrous instincts latent + in every masculine heart, and a lazy, languorous grace that set her in + striking contrast to the alert, vigorous country maids so perfectly able + to care for themselves, asking odds of no man. When the singing ceased + Barney came out of the shadow at his father's side, and, reaching for the + violin, said, “Let me spell you a bit, Dad.” + </p> + <p> + At his voice Dick, who was across the floor beside the singer, turned + quickly and, seeing Barney, sprang for him, shouting, “Hello! you + old whale, you!” The father hastily pulled his precious violin out + of danger. + </p> + <p> + “Let go, Dick! Let go, I tell you!” said Barney, struggling in + his brother's embrace; “stop it, now!” + </p> + <p> + With a mighty effort he threw Dick off from him and stood on guard with an + embarrassed, half-shamed, half-indignant laugh. The crowd gathered near in + delighted expectation. There was always something sure to happen when Dick + “got after” his older brother. + </p> + <p> + “He won't let me kiss him,” cried Dick pitifully, to the huge + enjoyment of the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “It's too bad, Dick,” they cried. + </p> + <p> + “So it is. But I'm not going to be put off. It's a shame!” + replied Dick, in a hurt tone. “And me just home, too.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a mean shame, Dick. Wouldn't stand it a minute,” cried + his sympathisers. + </p> + <p> + “I won't either,” cried Dick, preparing to make an attack. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Dick,” cried Barney impatiently, “just quit + your nonsense or I'll throw you on the floor there and sit on you. + Besides, you're spoiling the music.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, that's so,” said Dick. “So on Miss Lane's + account I'll forbear, provided, that is, she sings again, as, of course, + she will.” + </p> + <p> + It was Dick's custom to assume command in every company where he found + himself. + </p> + <p> + “What is it to be? 'Dixie'?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Yes!” cried the crowd. “'Dixie.' We'll give you + the chorus.” + </p> + <p> + After a little protest the girl struck a few chords and dashed off into + that old plantation song full of mingling pathos and humour. Barney picked + up his father's violin, touched the strings softly till he found her key + and then followed in a subdued accompaniment of weird chords. The girl + turned herself toward him, her beautiful face lighting up as if she had + caught a glimpse of a kindred spirit, and with a new richness and + tenderness she poured forth the full flood of her song. The crowd were + entranced with delight. Even those who had been somewhat impatient for the + renewal of the dance joined in calls for another song. She turned to Dick, + who had resumed his place beside her. “Who is the man you wanted so + badly to kiss?” she asked quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” he cried, so that everyone heard. “What! don't + you know? That's Barney, the one and only Barney, my brother. Here, + Barney, drop your fiddle and be introduced to Miss Iola Lane, late from + Virginia, or is it Maryland? Some of those heathen places beyond the Dixie + line.” + </p> + <p> + Barney dropped the violin from his chin, came over the floor, and + awkwardly offered his hand. With easy, lazy grace she rose from the block + where she had been sitting. + </p> + <p> + “You accompany beautifully,” she said in her soft Southern + drawl; “it's in you, I can see. No one can ever be taught to + accompany like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pshaw! That's nothing,” said Barney, eager to get back + again to his shadow, “but if you don't mind I'll try to follow you + if you sing again.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” cried Dick, “she'll sing again. What will + you give us now, white or black?” + </p> + <p> + “Plantation, of course,” said Barney brusquely. + </p> + <p> + “All right. 'Kentucky home,' eh?” cried Dick. + </p> + <p> + The girl looked up at him with a saucy, defiant look. “Do they all + obey you here?” + </p> + <p> + “Ask them.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what,” cried Alec Murray, “especially the girls.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated a few moments, evidently meditating rebellion, then turning + to Barney, who was playing softly the air that had been asked for, “You, + too, obey, I see,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Generally—, always when I like,” he replied, continuing + to play. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” shrugging her shoulders, “I suppose I must + then.” And she began: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The sun shines bright on de old Kentucky home.” + </pre> + <p> + Again that hush fell upon the crowd. The face of the singer, with its + dark, romantic beauty touched with the magic of the moonlight, the voice + soft, mellow, vibrant with passion, like the deeper notes of a 'cello, + supported by the weird chords of Barney's violin, held them breathless. No + voice joined in the chorus. As she sang, the subtle telepathic waves came + back from her audience to the girl, and with ever-deepening passion and + abandon she poured forth into the moonlit silence the full throbbing tide + of song. The old air, simple and time-worn, took on a new richness of tone + colour and a fulness of volume suggestive of springs of unutterable + depths. Even Dick's gay air of command surrendered to the spell. As + before, silence followed the song. + </p> + <p> + “But you did not do your part,” she said, smiling up at him + with a very pretty air of embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Dick solemnly, “we didn't dare.” + </p> + <p> + “Sing again,” said Barney abruptly. His voice sounded deep and + hoarse, and Dick, looking curiously at him, said apologetically, “Music, + when it's good, makes him quite batty.” + </p> + <p> + But Iola ignored him. “Did you ever hear this?” she said to + Barney. She strummed a few chords on her guitar. “It's only a little + baby song, one my old mammy used to sing.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Sleep, ma baby, close youah lil winkahs fas', + Loo-la, Loo-la, don' you gib me any sass. + Youah mammy's ol', an' want you to de berry las', + So, baby, honey, let dose mean ol' angels pass. + + CHORUS: + + “Sleep, ma baby, mammy can't let you go. + Sleep, ma baby, de angels want you sho! + De angels want you, guess I know, + But mammy hol' you, hol' you tight jes' so. + + “Sleep, ma baby, close youah lil fingahs, Meah, + Loo-la, Loo-la, tight about ma fingahs heah, + De dawk come close, but baby don' you nebbeh feah, + Youah mammy'll hol' you, hol' you till de mawn appeah. + + “Sleep, ma baby, why you lie so col', so col'? + Loo-la, Loo-la, do Massa want you for His fol'? + But, baby, honey, don' you know youah mammy's ol' + An' want you, want you, oh, she want you jes' to hol'.” + </pre> + <p> + A long silence followed the song. The girl laid her guitar down and sat + quietly looking straight before her, while Barney played the refrain over + and over. The simple pathos of the little song, its tender appeal to the + mother-chords that somehow vibrate in all human hearts, reached the deep + places in the honest hearts of her listeners and for some moments they + stood silent about her. It was with an obvious effort that Dick released + the tension by crying out, “Partners for four-hand reel.” + Instantly the company resolved itself into groups of four and stood + waiting for the music. + </p> + <p> + “Strike up, Barney,” cried Dick impatiently, shuffling before + Iola, whom he had chosen for his partner. But Barney, handing the violin + to his father, slipped back into the shadow where his mother and Margaret + were standing. The boy's face was pale through its swarthy tan. + </p> + <p> + “Come away,” he said to his mother in a strained, unnatural + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't she beautiful?” cried Margaret impulsively. + </p> + <p> + “Is she? I didn't notice. But great goodness! What a voice!” + </p> + <p> + “Um, some will be thinking so, I doubt,” said Mrs. Boyle + grimly, with a sharp glance at her son. + </p> + <p> + But Barney had become oblivious to her words and glances. He moved away as + in a dream to make ready for the home going of his party, for soon the + dancers would be at Sir Roger's. Nor did he waken from his dream mood + during the drive home. He could hear Dick chattering gaily to Margaret and + his mother of his College experiences, but except for an occasional word + with his father he sat in silence, gazing not upon the fields and woods + that lay in all their moonlit glory about them, but upon that new world, + vast, unreal, yet vividly present, whose horizon lay beyond the line of + vision, the world of his imagination, where he must henceforth live and + where his work must lie. For the events of the afternoon had summoned a + new self into being, a self unfamiliar, but real and terribly insistent, + demanding recognition. He could not analyse the change that had come to + him, nor could he account for it. He did not try to. He lived again those + great moments when, having been thrust by chance into the command of these + fifty mighty men, he had swung them to victory. He remembered the ease, + the perfect harmony with which his faculties had wrought through those few + minutes of fierce struggle. Again he passed through the awful ordeal of + the operation, now holding the light, now assisting with forceps or cord + or needle, now sponging away that ghastly red flow that could not be + stemmed. He wondered now at his self-mastery. He could see again his + fingers, bloody, but unshaking, handing the old doctor a needle and silk + cord. He remembered his surprise and pity, almost contempt, for big Tom + Magee lying on the floor unable to lift his head; remembered, too, the + strange absence of anything like elation at the doctor's words, “My + boy, you have the nerve and the fingers of a surgeon, and that's what your + Maker intended you to be.” + </p> + <p> + But he let his mind linger long and with thrilling joy through the + interlude in the dance. Every detail of that scene stood clearly limned + before his mind. The bare skeleton of the new harp, the crowding, eager, + tense faces of the listeners, his mother's and Margaret's in the hindmost + row, his brother standing in the centre foreground, the upturned face of + the singer with its pale romantic loveliness, all in the mystery of the + moonlight, and, soaring over all, that clear, vibrant, yet softly + passionate, glorious voice. That was the final magic touch that rolled + back the screen and set before him the new world which must henceforth be + his. He could not explain that touch. The songs were the old simple airs + worn threadbare by long use in the countryside. It was certainly not the + songs. Nor was it the singer. Curiously enough, the girl, her personality, + her character, worthy or unworthy, had only a subordinate place in his + thought. He was conscious of her presence there as a subtle yet powerful + influence, but as something detached from the upturned face illumined in + the soft moonlight and the stream of heart-shaking song. She was to him + thus far simply a vision and a voice, to which all the psychic element in + him made eager response. As he drove into the quiet Mill yard it came upon + him with a shock of pain that with the old life he had done forever. He + felt himself already detached from it. The new self looking out upon its + new world had shaken off his boyhood as the bursting leaf shakes off the + husks of spring. + </p> + <p> + As Dick's gay exclamation of delight at sight of the old home fell upon + his ear a deeper pain struck him, for he vaguely felt that while his + brother still held his place in the centre of the stage, that stage had + immeasurably extended and was now peopled with other figures, shadowy, it + is true, but there, and influential. His brother, who with his mother, or, + indeed, perhaps more than his mother, had absorbed his boyish devotion, + must henceforth share that devotion with others. Upon this thought his + brother's voice broke in. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, old chap? Is there anything wrong?” + </p> + <p> + The kindly tone stabbed like a knife. + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Nothing, Dick.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but there is. You're not the same.” At the anxious + appeal in the voice Barney stood for a moment steadily regarding his + brother, for whom he could easily give his life, with a troubled sense of + change that he could not analyse to himself, much less explain to his + brother. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, Dick—I can't tell you—I don't think I am + the same.” A look of startled dismay fell swiftly down upon the + frank, handsome face turned toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Have I done anything, Barney?” said the younger boy, his + dismay showing in his tone. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Dick, boy, it has nothing to do with you.” He put his + hands on his brother's shoulders, the nearest thing to an embrace he ever + allowed himself. “It is in myself; but to you, my boy, I am the + same.” His speech came now hurriedly and with difficulty: “And + whatever comes to me or to you, Dick, remember I shall never change to you—remember + that, Dick, to you I shall never change.” His breath was coming in + quick gasps. The younger boy gazed at his usually so undemonstrative + brother. Suddenly he threw his arms about his neck, crying in a broken + voice, “You won't, Barney, I know you won't. If you ever do I don't + want to live.” + </p> + <p> + For a single moment Barney held the boy in his arms, patting his shoulder + gently, then, pushing him back, said impatiently, “Well, I am a + blamed old fool, anyway. What in the diggins is the matter with me, I + don't know. I guess I want supper, nothing to eat since noon. But all the + same, Dick,” he added in a steady, matter-of-fact tone, “we + must expect many changes from this out, but we'll stand by each other till + the world cracks.” + </p> + <p> + After Dick had gone upstairs with his father, Barney and his mother sat + together talking over the doings of the day after their invariable custom. + </p> + <p> + “He is looking thin, I am thinking,” said the mother. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's right enough. A few days after the reaper and a few meals + out of your kitchen, mother, and he will be as fit as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “That was a fine work of yours with the doctor.” The + indifferent tone did not deceive her son for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pshaw, that was nothing. At least it seemed nothing then. There + were things to be done, blood to be stopped, skin to be sewed up, and I + just did what I could.” The mother nodded slightly. + </p> + <p> + “You did no more than you ought, and that great Tom Magee might be + doing something better than lying on his back on the floor like a baby.” + </p> + <p> + “He couldn't help himself, mother. That's the way it struck him. + But, man, it was fine to see the doctor, so quick and so clever, and never + a slip or a stop.” He paused abruptly and stood upright looking far + away for some moments. “Yes, fine! Splendid!” he continued as + in a dream. “And he said I had the fingers and the nerve for a + surgeon. That's it. I see now—mother, I'm going to be a doctor.” + </p> + <p> + His mother stood and faced him. “A doctor? You?” + </p> + <p> + The sharp tone recalled her son. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, me. Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “And Richard?” + </p> + <p> + Her son understood her perfectly. His mind went back to a morning long ago + when his mother, putting his younger brother's hand in his as they set + forth to school for the first time, said, “Take care of your + brother, Bernard. I give him into your charge.” That very day and + many a day after he had stood by his brother, had fought for him, had + pulled him out of scraps into which the younger lad's fiery temper and + reckless spirit were frequently plunging him, but never once had he + consciously failed in the trust imposed on him. And as Dick developed + exceptional brilliance in his school work, together they planned for him, + the mother and the older brother, the mother painfully making and saving, + the brother accepting as his part the life of plodding obscurity in order + that the younger boy might have his full chance of what school and college + could do for him. True to the best traditions of her race, the mother had + fondly dreamed of a day when she should hear from her son's lips the word + of life. With never a thought of the sacrifice she was demanding, she had + drawn into this partnership her elder son. And thus to the mother it + seemed nothing less than an act of treachery, amounting to sacrilege, that + Barney for a single moment should cherish for himself an ambition whose + realisation might imperil his brother's future. Barney needed, therefore, + no explanation of his mother's cry of dismay, almost of horror. He was + quick with his answer. + </p> + <p> + “Dick? Oh, mother, do you think I was forgetting Dick? Of course + nothing must stop Dick. I can wait—but I am going to be a doctor.” + </p> + <p> + The mother looked into her son's rugged face, so like her own in its firm + lines, and replied almost grudgingly, “Ay, I doubt you will.” + Then she added hastily, as if conscious of her ungracious tone, “And + what for should you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, mother,” said her son humbly, “and never + fear we'll stand by Dick.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes followed him out of the room and for some moments she stood + watching the door through which he had passed. Then, with a great sigh, + she said aloud: “Ay, it is the grand doctor he will make. He has the + nerve and the fingers whatever.” Then after a pause she added: + “And he will not fail the laddie, I warrant.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <h3> + THE NEW TEACHER + </h3> + <p> + The new teacher was distinctly phenomenal from every point of view. Her + beauty was a type quite unusual where rosy-cheeked, deep-chested, sturdy + womanhood was the rule. Even the smallest child was sensible of the + fascination of her smile, which seemed to emanate from every feature of + her face, so much so that little Ruby Ross was heard to say: “And do + you know, mother, she smiles with her nose!” The almost timid appeal + in her gentle manner stirred the chivalry latent in every boy's heart. + Back of her appealing gentleness, however, there was a reserve of proud + command due to the strain in her blood of a regnant, haughty, slave-ruling + race. But in her discipline of the school she had rarely to fall back upon + sheer authority. She had a method unique, but undoubtedly effective, based + upon two fundamental principles: regard for public opinion, and hope of + reward. The daily tasks were prepared and rendered as if in the presence + of the great if somewhat vague public which at times she individualized, + as she became familiar with her pupils, in the person of father or mother + or trustee, as the case might be. And with marvellous skill she played + this string, albeit occasionally she struck a false note. + </p> + <p> + “What would your father think, Lincoln?” she inquired + reproachfully of little Link Young. Link's father was a typical Down + Easterner, by name Jabez Young or, as he was more commonly known, “Maine + Jabe,” for his fondness of his reminiscence of his native State. + “What would your father think if he saw you act so rudely?” + </p> + <p> + “Dad wouldn't care a dang.” + </p> + <p> + Instantly conscious of her mistake, she hastened to recover. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Lincoln, what do you think I think?” + </p> + <p> + Link's Yankee assurance sank abashed before this direct personal appeal. + He hung his head in blushing silence. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, Lincoln, you might come to be a right clever gentleman + if you tried hard.” A new idea lodged itself under Link's red thatch + of hair and a new motive stirred in his shrewd little soul. Here was one + visibly present whose good opinion he valued. At all costs that good + opinion he must win. + </p> + <p> + The whole school was being consciously trained for exhibition purposes. + The day would surely come when before the eyes of the public they would + parade for inspection. Therefore, it behooved them to be ready. + </p> + <p> + But more important in enforcing discipline was the hope of reward. This + principle was robbed of its more sordid elements by the nature of the + reward held forth. A day of good conduct and of faithful work invariably + closed with an hour devoted to histrionic and musical exercise. To recite + before the teacher and to hear the teacher recite was worth considerable + effort. To sing with the teacher was a joy, but to hear the teacher sing + to the accompaniment of her guitar was the supreme of bliss. It was not + only an hour of pleasure to the pupils, but an hour of training as well. + She initiated them into the mysteries of deep breathing, chest tones, + phrasing, and expression, and such was their absorbing interest in and + devotion to this study, that in a few weeks truly remarkable results were + obtained. The singing lesson invariably concluded with a plantation song + from the teacher; and with her memory-gates wide open to the sunny South + of her childhood, and with all her soul in her voice, she gave them her + best, holding them breathless, laughterful, or tear-choked, according to + her mood and song. + </p> + <p> + It was by such a song that Mr. Jabez Young, driving along the road on his + way to the store, was suddenly arrested and rendered incapable of movement + till the song was done. In amazed excitement he burst forth to old Hector + Ross, the Chairman of the Trustee Board, who happened to be in the store: + </p> + <p> + “Gol dang my cats! What hev yeh got in the school up yonder? Say! I + couldn't git my team to move past that there door!” + </p> + <p> + “What's matter, Mr. Young?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, dang it all! I'll report to the Reeve. Fust thing yeh know + there'll be a string-a-teams from here to the next concession blockin' + that there road in front of the school!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's the matter with the school, Mr. Young?” inquired + old Hector, in anxious surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Why, ain't ye heard her? Say! down in Maine I paid a dollar one + 'time to hear a big singer, forgit her name, but she was 'lowed to be the + dangdest singer in all them parts. But, Gol dang my cats to cinders! she + ain't any more like that there teacher of yours than my old Tom cat's like + the angel that leads the choir in Abram's bosom!” + </p> + <p> + “That is very interesting, Mr. Young. And I suppose you won't mind + paying a little extra school rate now,” said Hector, with a shrewd + twinkle in his eye. + </p> + <p> + “Extra school rate! I tell yeh what, I'll charge up my lost time to + the trustees! But danged if I wouldn't give a day's pay to hear that song + again!” + </p> + <p> + In application of this principle of reward for merit, the teacher + introduced a subordinate principle which proved effective when all else + failed. The school was made corporately and jointly responsible for the + individual. The offence of one was the offence of all, the merit of one + the merit of all. Thus every pupil was associated with her in the business + of securing good lessons and exemplary conduct. As the day went on each + misdemeanour was gravely, and in full view of the school, marked down upon + the blackboard. The merits obtained by any pupil were in like manner + recorded. The day closing with an adverse balance knew no hour of song. + Woe to the boy who, dead to all other motives of good conduct, persisted + in robbing the school of its hour of delight. In the case of Ab Maddock, + big, impudent, and pachydermous, it took Dugald Robertson, the minister's + son, just half an hour's hard fighting to extract a promise of good + behaviour. Dugald was in the main a thoughtful, peaceable boy, the most + advanced pupil in the entrance class, and a great mathematician. At first + he was inclined to despise the teacher, setting little store by her + beautiful face and fascinating smile, for on the very first day he + discovered her woful mathematical inadequacy. Arithmetic was her despair. + With algebraic formulae and Euclid's propositions her fine memory saved + her. But with quick intuition she threw herself frankly upon the boy's + generosity, and in the evenings together they, with Margaret's assistance, + wrestled with the bewildering intricacies of arithmetical problems. Her + open confession of helplessness, and her heroic attempts to overcome her + defects, made irresistible appeal to the chivalrous heart of the little + Highland gentleman. Thenceforth he was her champion for all that was in + him. + </p> + <p> + But the teacher's weakness in mathematics was atoned for, if atonement + there be for such a weakness, by the ample strength of her endowments in + those branches of learning in which imagination and artistic sensibility + play any large part. And a far larger part, and far more important, do + these Divine gifts play than many wise educationists conceive. The lessons + in history, in geography, and in reading ceased to be mere memory tasks + and became instinct with life. The whole school would stay its ordinary + work to listen while the teacher told tales of the brave days of old to + the history class, or transformed the geography lessons into excursions + among people of strange tongues dwelling in far lands. But it was in the + reading lessons that her artistic talents had full play. The mere + pronouncing and spelling of words were but incidents in the way of + expression of thought and emotion. After a whole week of drilling which + she would give to a single lesson, she would arrest the class with the + question, “What is the author seeing?” and with the further + question, “How does he try to show it to us?” Reading, to her, + consisted in the ability to see what the author saw and the art of telling + it, and to set forth with grace that thing in the author's words. + </p> + <p> + In the writing class her chief anxiety was to avoid blots. Every blot + might become an occasion of humiliation to teacher and pupils alike. + “Oh, this will never do! They must not see this!” she would + cry, rubbing out with infinite care and pains the blot, and rubbing in the + horror of such a defilement being paraded before the eyes of the vague but + terrible “they.” + </p> + <p> + Thus the pathway trodden in the school routine was, perchance, neither + wide nor far extended, but it was thoroughly well trodden. As a + consequence, when the day for the closing exercises came around both + teacher and pupils had become so thoroughly familiar with the path and so + accustomed to the vision of the onlooking public that they faced the + ordeal without dread, prepared to give forth whatever of knowledge or + accomplishment they might possess. + </p> + <p> + A fortunate rainy day, making the hauling of hay or the cutting of fall + wheat equally impossible, filled the school with the parents and friends + of the children. The minister and the trustees were dutifully present. Of + the mill people Dick and his mother appeared, Dick because his mother + insisted that a student should show interest in the school, his mother + because Dick refused to go a step without her. Barney came later, not + because of his interest in the school, but chiefly, he declared to + himself, conscious of the need of a reason, because there was nothing much + else to do. The presence of “Maine” Jabe might be taken as the + high water mark of the interest aroused throughout the section in the new + teacher and her methods. + </p> + <p> + The closing exercises were, with a single exception, a brilliantly + flawless exhibition. That exception appeared in the Euclid of the entrance + class. The mathematics were introduced early in the day. The arithmetic, + which dealt chiefly with problems of barter and sale of the various + products of the farm, was lightly and deftly passed over. The algebra + class was equally successful. In the Euclid class it seemed as if the + hitherto unbroken success would come to an unhappy end in the bewilderment + and confusion of Phoebe Ross, from whom the minister had asked a + demonstration of the pons asinorum. But the blame for poor Phoebe's + bewilderment clearly lay with the minister himself, for in placing the + figure upon the board with the letters designating the isosceles triangle + he made the fatal blunder of setting the letter B at the right hand side + of the base instead of at its proper place at the left, as in the book. + The result was that the unhappy Phoebe, ignoring the figure upon the board + and depending entirely upon her memory, soon plunged both the minister and + herself into confusion hopeless and complete. But the quick eye of the + teacher had detected the difficulty, and, going to the board, she erased + the unfamiliar figure, saying, as she did so, in her gentle appealing + voice, “Wait, Phoebe. You are quite confused, I know. We shall wipe + the board clean and begin all over.” She placed the figure upon the + board with the designating letters arranged as in the book. “Now, + take your time,” she said with deliberate emphasis. “Let A, B, + C be an isosceles triangle.” And thus, with her feet set firmly upon + the familiar path, little Phoebe slipped through that desperate maze of + angles and triangles with an ease, speed, and dexterity that elicited the + wonder and admiration of all present, the minister, good man, included. + Upon Barney, however, who understood perfectly what had happened, the + incident left a decidedly unpleasant impression. Indeed, the + superficiality of the mathematical exercises as a whole awakened within + him a feeling of pain which he could not explain. + </p> + <p> + When the reading classes were under review the school passed from the + atmosphere of the superficial to that of the real. Never had such reading + been heard in that or in any other common school. The familiar sing-song + monotony of the reading lesson was gone and in its place a real and vivid + picturing of the scenes described or enacted. It was all simple, natural, + and effective. + </p> + <p> + The exercises attained an easy climax with the recitations and singing + which closed the day. Here the artistic gifts of the teacher had full + scope. There was an absence of all nervous dread in the performers. By + some marvellous power she caught hold and absorbed their attention so that + for her chiefly, if not entirely, they recited or sang. In the singing, + which terminated the proceedings, the triumph of the day was complete. A + single hymn, two or three kindergarten action songs, hitherto unheard in + that community, a rollicking negro chorus; and, at the last, “for + the children and the mothers,” the teacher said, one soft lullaby in + which for the first time the teacher's voice was heard, the low, vibrant + tones filling the room with music such as in all their lives they had + never listened to. It was a fine sense of artistic values that cut out the + speeches and dismissed the school in the ordinary way. The full tide of + their enthusiasm broke upon her as minister, trustees, parents, and all + crowded about her, offering congratulations. Her air of shy grace with + just a touch of nonchalant reserve served in no small degree to heighten + the whole effect of the day. + </p> + <p> + The mill people walked home with the minister and Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't she a wonder?” cried Dick. “What has she done to + those little blocks? Why, they don't seem the same children!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” replied the minister, “it is quite + surprising, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “In their mathematics, though, there was some thin skating there for + a while,” continued Dick. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, the little lassie became confused. But she recovered + herself cleverly.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” said Dick, with a slight laugh. “That was + a clever bit of work on the part of the teacher.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, shut up, Dick!” said Barney sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” replied Dick, “no one expects mathematics + from a girl, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear the conceit of him?” said his mother indignantly, + “and Margaret there can show all of you the way.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's true, mother, but Margaret is a wonder, too. But + whatever you say, the reciting and singing were good. Even little Link + Young was quite dramatic. They say that 'Maine' Jabe for the first time in + his life is quite reckless in regard to the school rates.” + </p> + <p> + “We will just wait a year,” said his mother. “It is a + new broom that sweeps clean.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, mother, you are too hard to please.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” she replied, grimly closing her lips. + </p> + <p> + As they reached the manse gate the minister, who had evidently been + pondering Dick's words, said, “Well, Mrs. Boyle, we have had a + delightful afternoon, whatever, a remarkable exhibition. Yes, yes. And + after all it is a great matter that the children should be taught to read + and recite well. And it was no wonder that the poor thing would seek to + make it easy for the little girl. And Margaret will need to take Dugald + over his mathematics, I fear, before he goes up to the entrance.” At + which remark the painful feeling which the reciting and singing had caused + Barney to forget for the time, returned with even greater poignancy. + </p> + <p> + But in all the section there was only one opinion, and that was that, at + all costs, the teacher's services must be retained. For once, the trustees + realised that no longer would they depend for popularity upon the sole + qualification of their ability to keep down the school rate. It was, + perhaps, not the most diplomatic moment they chose for the securing of the + teacher's services for another year. It might be that they were moved to + immediate action by the apparent willingness on her part to leave the + matter of re-engagement an open question. On all hands, however, they were + applauded as having done a good stroke of business when, there and then, + they closed their bargain with the teacher, although at a higher salary, + as it turned out, than had ever been paid in the section before. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <h3> + THE YOUNG DOCTOR + </h3> + <p> + Barney's jaw ran along the side of his face, ending abruptly in a + square-cut chin, the jaw and chin doing for his face what a ridge and + bluff of rock do for a landscape. They suggested the bed rock of + character, abiding, firm, indomitable. Having seen the goal at which he + would arrive, there remained only to find the path and press it. He would + be a doctor. The question was, how? His first step was to consult the only + authority available, old Doctor Ferguson. It was a stormy interview, for + the doctor was of a craggy sort like Barney himself, with a jaw and a chin + and all they suggested. The boy told his purpose briefly, almost + defiantly, as if expecting scornful opposition, and asked guidance. The + doctor flung difficulties at his head for half an hour and ended by + offering him money, cursing his Highland pride when the boy refused it. + </p> + <p> + “What do I want with money?” cried the doctor. He had lost his + only son three years before. “There's only my wife. And she'll have + plenty. Money! Dirt, fit to walk on, to make a path with, that's all! Had + my boy lived, God knows I'd have made him a surgeon. But—” + Here the doctor snorted violently and coughed, trumpeting hard with his + nose. “Confound these foggy nights! I'll put you through.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll pay my way,” said Barney almost sullenly, “or I'll + stay at home.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing here, then?” he roared at the boy. + </p> + <p> + “I came to find out how to start. Must a man go to college?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” shouted the doctor again; “he can be a confounded + fool and work up by himself, a terrible handicap, going up for the + examinations till the last year, when he must attend college.” + </p> + <p> + “I could do that,” said Barney, closing his jaws. + </p> + <p> + The doctor looked at his face. The shut jaws looked more than ever like a + ledge of granite and the chin like a cliff. “You can, eh? Hanged if + I don't believe you! And I'll help you. I'd like to, if you would let me.” + The voice ended in a wistful tone. The boy was touched. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you can!” he cried impulsively, “and I'll be + awfully thankful. You can tell me what books to get and sometimes explain, + perhaps, if you have time.” His face went suddenly crimson. He was + conscious of asking a favour. + </p> + <p> + The old doctor sat down, rejoicing greatly in him, and for the first time + treated him as an equal. He explained in detail the course of study, + making much of the difficulties in the way. When he had done he waved his + hand toward his library. + </p> + <p> + “Now, there are my books,” he cried; “use them and ask + me what you will. It will brush me up. And I'll take you to see my cases + and, by God's help, we'll make you a surgeon! A surgeon, sir! You've got + the fingers and the nerves. A surgeon! That's the only thing worth while. + The physician can't see further below the skin than anyone else. He + guesses and experiments, treats symptoms, trys one drug then another, + guessing and experimenting all along the line. But the knife, boy!” + Here the doctor rose and began to pace the floor. “There's no guess + in the knife point! The knife lays bare the evil, fights, eradicates it! + Look at that boy Kane, died three weeks ago. 'Inflammation,' said the + physician. Treated his symptoms properly enough. The boy died. At the + postmortem”—here the doctor paused in his walk, lowering his + voice almost to a whisper while he bent over the boy—“at the + post-mortem the knife discovered an abscess on the vermiform appendix. The + discovery was made too late.” These were the days before + appendicitis became fashionable. “Now, listen to me,” + continued the doctor, even more impressively, “I believe in my soul + that the knife at the proper moment might have saved that boy's life! A + slight incision an inch or two long, the removal of the diseased part, a + few stitches, and in a couple of weeks the boy is well! Ah, boy! God knows + I'd give my life to be a great surgeon! But He didn't give me the fingers. + Look at these,” and he held up a coarse, heavy hand; “I + haven't the touch. And besides, He brought me my wife, the best thing I've + got in the world, and my baby, which settled the surgeon business forever. + Now listen, boy! You've got the nerve—plenty of men have that—but + you've also got the fingers, which few men have. With your touch and your + steady nerve and your mechanical ingenuity—I've seen your machines, + boy—you can be a great surgeon! But you must know your subject. You + must think, dream, sleep, eat, drink bones and muscles and sinews and + nerves. Push everything else aside!” he cried, waving his great + hands. “And remember!”—here his voice took a solemn tone—“let + nothing share your heart with your knife! Leave the women alone. A woman + has no business in science. She distracts the mind, disturbs the liver, + absorbs the vital powers, besides paralysing the finances. For you, let + there be one woman, your mother, at least till you are a surgeon. Now, + then, there are my books and all my spare time at your command.” At + these words the boy's face, which had caught the light and glow of the old + man's enthusiasm, fell. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what now?” cried the doctor, reading his face like a + book. + </p> + <p> + “I have no right to take your books or your time.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor sprang to his feet with an oath. The boy also rose and faced + him, almost as if expecting a blow. For a moment they stood steadfastly + regarding each other, then the doctor's old face relaxed, his eyes + softened. He put his big hand on the boy's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Now, by the Lord that made you and me!” he said, “we + were meant for a team, and a team we'll make. I'll help you and I'll make + you pay.” The boy's face brightened. + </p> + <p> + “How?” he cried eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “We'll change work.” The doctor's old eyes began to twinkle. + “I want fall ploughing done and my cordwood hauled.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do it!” cried Barney. A light broke in his eyes and + flooded his face. At last he saw his path. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said the doctor, taking down a book, “here's + your Gray.” And turning the leaves, “Here's what happened to + Ben Fallows. Read this. And here's the treatment,” pulling down + another book and turning to a page, “Read that. I'll make Ben your + first patient. There's no money in it, anyway, and you can't kill him. He + only needs three things, cleanliness, good cheer, and good food. By and by + we'll get him a leg. Here's that Buffalo doctor's catalogue. Take it + along. Now, boy, I'll work you, grind you, and you'll go for your first + examination next spring.” + </p> + <p> + “Next spring!” cried Barney, aghast, “not for three + years.” + </p> + <p> + “Three years!” snorted the doctor, “three fiddlesticks! + You can do this first examination by next spring.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I could do it,” said Barney slowly. + </p> + <p> + The doctor cast an admiring glance at the line of jaw on the boy's face. + </p> + <p> + “But there's the mortgage and there's Dick's college.” + </p> + <p> + “Dick's college? Why Dick's and not yours?” + </p> + <p> + The boy's rugged face changed. A tender light fell over it, filling in its + cracks and canyons. + </p> + <p> + “Because—well, because Dick must go through. Dick's clever. + He's awful clever.” Pride mingled with the tenderness in look and + tone. “Mother wants him to be a minister, and,” he added after + a pause, “I do, too.” + </p> + <p> + The old doctor turned from him, stood looking out of the window a few + minutes, and then came back. He put his hands on the boy's shoulders. + “I understand, boy,” he said, his great voice vibrating in + deep and tender tones, “I, too, had a brother once. Make Dick a + minister if you want, but meantime we'll grind the surgeon's knife.” + </p> + <p> + The boy went home to his mother in high exultation. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor wants me to look after Ben for him,” he announced. + “He is going to show me the dressings, and he says all he wants is + cleanliness, good cheer, and good food. I can keep him clean. But how he + is to get good cheer in that house, and how he is to get good food, are + more than I can tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Good cheer!” cried Dick. “He'll not lack for company. + How many has she now, mother? A couple of dozen, more or less?” + </p> + <p> + “There are thirteen of them already, poor thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Thirteen! That's an unlucky stopping place. Let us hope she won't + allow the figure to remain at that.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I am thinking it will not,” said his mother, speaking + with the confidence of intimate knowledge. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Dick, with a judicial air, “it's a + question whether it's worse to defy the fate that lurks in that unlucky + number, or to accept the doubtful blessing of another twig to the already + overburdened olive tree.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, it is a hard time she is having with the four babies and all.” + </p> + <p> + “Four, mother! Surely that's an unusual number even for the prolific + Mrs. Fallows!” + </p> + <p> + “Whisht, laddie!” said his mother, in a shocked tone, “don't + talk foolishly.” + </p> + <p> + “But you said four, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Twins the last twice,” interjected Barney. + </p> + <p> + “Great snakes!” cried Dick, “let us hope she won't get + the habit.” + </p> + <p> + “But, mother,” inquired Barney seriously, “what's to be + done?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I can't tell,” said his mother. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me,” cried Dick, “I've got an inspiration. + I'll undertake the 'good cheer.' I'll impress the young ladies into this + worthy service. Light conversation and song. And you can put up the food, + mother, can't you?” + </p> + <p> + “We will see,” said the mother quietly; “we will do our + best.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case the 'food department' is secure,” said Dick; + “already I see Ben Fallows making rapid strides toward + convalescence.” + </p> + <p> + It was characteristic of Barney that within a few days he had all three + departments in full operation. With great tact he succeeded in making Mrs. + Fallows thoroughly scour the woodwork and whitewash the walls in Ben's + little room, urging the doctor's orders and emphasizing the danger of + microbes, the dread of which was just beginning to obtain in popular + imagination. + </p> + <p> + “Microbes? What's them?” inquired Mrs. Fallows, suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “Very small insects.” + </p> + <p> + “Insects? Is it bugs you mean?” Mrs. Fallows at once became + fiercely hostile. “I want to tell yeh, young sir, ther' hain't no + bugs in this 'ouse. If ther's one thing I'm pertickler 'bout, it's bugs. + John sez to me, sez 'e, 'What's the hodds of a bug or two, Hianthy?' But I + sez to 'im, sez I, 'No bugs fer me, John. I hain't been brought up with + bugs, an' bugs I cawn't an' won't 'ave.'” + </p> + <p> + It was only Barney's earnest assurance that the presence of microbes was + no impeachment of the most scrupulous housekeeping and, indeed, that these + mysterious creatures were to be found in the very highest circles, that + Mrs. Fallows was finally appeased. With equal skill he inaugurated his + “good food” department, soothing Mrs. Fallows' + susceptibilities with the diplomatic information that in surgical cases + such as Ben's certain articles of diet specially prepared were necessary + to the best results. + </p> + <p> + Not the least successful part of the treatment prescribed was that + furnished by the “good cheer” department. This was left + entirely in Dick's charge, and he threw himself into its direction with + the enthusiasm of a devotee. Iola with her guitar was undoubtedly his + mainstay. But Dick was never quite satisfied unless he could persuade + Margaret, too, to assist in his department. But Margaret had other duties, + and, besides, she had associated herself more particularly with Mrs. Boyle + in the work of supplementing Mrs. Fallows' somewhat unappetising though + entirely substantial meals with delicacies more suited to the sickroom. + Dick, however, insisted that with all that Iola and himself in the “good + cheer” department and Barney in what he called the “scavenging” + department could achieve, there was still need of Margaret's presence and + Margaret's touch. Hence, before the busy harvest time came upon them, he + made a practice of calling at the manse, and, relieving her of the duty of + getting to sleep little five-year-old Tom, with whom he was first + favourite, he would carry her off to the Fallows household, whither Barney + and Iola had preceded them. + </p> + <p> + Altogether the “young doctor,” as Ben called him, had reason + to be proud of the success he was achieving with his first patient. The + amputation healed over and the bone knit at the first intention, and in a + few weeks Ben was far on the way to convalescence. He was never weary in + his praises of the “young doctor.” It was the “young + doctor” who, by changing the bandages, had eased him of the + intolerable pain which followed the first dressing. It was the “young + doctor” who had changed the splints, shaping them cunningly to fit + the limb, bringing ease where there had been chafing pain. + </p> + <p> + “Let 'em 'ave the old doctor if they want,” was Ben's final + conclusion, “but fer me, the young doctor, sez I.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII + </h2> + <h3> + THE GOOD CHEER DEPARTMENT + </h3> + <p> + The “good cheer” department, while ostensibly for Ben's + benefit, wrought profit and cheer for others besides. What Dick got of it + no one but himself knew, for that young man, with all his apparent + frankness, kept the veil over his heart drawn close. To Barney, absorbed + in his new work, with its wealth of new ideas and his new ambitions, the + “good cheer” department was chiefly valued as an important + factor in Ben's progress. To Iola it brought what to her was the breath of + life, admiration, gratitude, affection. But Margaret perhaps more than + any, not even excepting Ben himself, gathered from this department what + might be called its by-products. The daily monotony of her household + duties bore hard upon her young heart. Ambitions long cherished, though + cheerfully laid aside at the sudden call of duty, could not be quite + abandoned without a sense of pain and loss. The break offered by the work + of the department in the monotony of her life, the companionship of its + members, and, as much as anything, the irresistible appeal to her keen + sense of humour by the genial, loquacious, dirty but irresistibly cheery + Mrs. Fallows, far more than compensated for the extra effort which her + membership in the department rendered necessary. + </p> + <p> + It was the evening following that of the school closing that Dick with + Margaret and Iola were making one of their customary calls at the Fallows + cottage. It would be for Iola the last visit for some weeks, as she was + about to depart to town for her holidays. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to say good-bye,” she announced as she shook + hands with Mrs. Fallows. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, dear 'eart,” said that lady, throwing up her hands + aghast; “art goin' to leave us fer good?” + </p> + <p> + “No, nothing so bad,” said Dick; “only for a few weeks, + Mrs. Fallows. The section couldn't do without her, and the trustees have + decided that they wouldn't let her out of sight till they had put a string + on her.” + </p> + <p> + “Goin' to come back again, be yeh? I did 'ear as 'ow yeh was goin' + to leave. My little Joe was that broken-'earted, an' 'e declared to me as + 'ow 'e wouldn't go to school no more.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't wonder,” said Dick. “Why, if the trustees + hadn't engaged her, as 'Maine Jabe' said, 'there'd be the dangdest kind of + riot in the section.'” + </p> + <p> + “Don't listen to him, Mrs. Fallows. I'm going in to sing to Ben, if + I may.” + </p> + <p> + “An' that yeh may, bless yer 'eart!” said Mrs. Fallows, + picking up a twin from the doorway to allow Iola and Dick to pass into the + inner room. “Ther' now,” she continued to Margaret, who was + moving about putting things to rights, “don't yeh go tirin' of + yerself. I know things is in a muss. Some'ow by Saturday night things + piles up terr'ble, an' I'm that tired I don't seem to 'ave no 'eart to + straighten 'em up. Jest look at that 'ouse! I sez to John, sez I, 'I + cawn't do no 'ousekeepin' with all 'em children 'bout my feet. An', bless + their 'earts! it's all I kin do to put the bread in their mouths an keep + the rags on their backs.' But John sez to me, sez 'e, 'Don't yeh worry, + lass, 'bout the rags. Keep 'em full,' sez 'e, 'a full belly never 'eeds a + bare back,' sez 'e. That's 'is way. 'E's halways a-comin' over somethin' + cleverlike, is John. Lard save us! will yeh listen to that, now!” + she continued in an awestruck undertone, as Iola's voice came in full rich + melody from the next room. “An' Ben is fair raptured with 'er. Poor + Benny! it's a sore calamity 'as overtaken 'im, a-breakin' of 'is leg an' + a-mutilatin' of 'isself. It does seem as if the Lard 'ad give me som'at + more'n my share. Listen to that ther'. Bless 'er dear 'eart; Benny fergits + 'is hamputation an' 'is splits.” + </p> + <p> + “His splints,” cried Margaret; “are they all right now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Since the young doctor—that's w'at Benny calls 'im—change + 'em. Oh, that's a clever young man! Benney, 'e sez, 'Give me the young + doctor,' sez 'e. Yeh see,” continued Mrs. Fallows confidentially, + and again lowering her voice impressively, “yeh see, 'is leg 'urt + most orful at first, an' Benny cried to me, 'It's in me toes, mother, it's + in me toes.' 'Why, Benny,' sez I to 'im, 'yeh hain't got no toes, Benny.' + 'That's w'ere it 'urts,' sez 'e, 'toes or no toes.' An' father 'e wakes + right up an' 'erd w'at Benny was cryin', an' sez 'e, 'Benny's right + enough. 'Is toes'll 'urt till they're rotted away in the ground.' An' 'e + tells as 'ow 'is sister's holdest boy got 'is leg hamputated, poor soul! + an' 'ow 'is toes 'urted till they was took an' buried an' rotted away. + Some doctors don't bury 'em, an' they do say,” and here Mrs. + Fallows' voice dropped quite to a whisper, “as 'ow that keeps 'em + sore all the longer. Well, jest as father was speakin' in comes the doctor + 'isself, an' father 'e told 'im as 'ow Benny was feelin' the pain in 'is + toes. 'In yer toes, Benny?' sez the doctor surprised-like. 'Tain't yer + toes, Ben.' 'Well, I guess it's me as is doin' the feelin',' sez Ben quite + sharp, 'an' it's in me toes the feelin' is.' Then father 'e spoke up. 'E's + a terr'ble man fer hargument, is father. 'Doctor,' sez 'e, 'is them toes + buried, if I might be so bold?' 'Cawn't say,' sez the doctor quite + hindifferent, though 'e must 'a' knowed. 'Well, my opinion is,' sez + father, ''e'll feel them toes till they're took an' buried an' rotted away + in the ground.' An' then 'e tells 'bout 'is sister's boy. 'Nonsense,' sez + the doctor, 'tain't 'is toes at all. 'Is toes 'as nothin' to do with it.' + 'W'at then?' asks father quite polite. 'It's the feelin' of 'is toes 'e's + feelin'.' ''Ow can 'e 'ave any feelin' of 'is toes if 'e hain't got no + toes?' 'Well,' sez the doctor, ''is feelin's hain't in 'is toes at all.' + 'Well, that's w'ere mine is,' sez father. 'W'en I 'urts my toes it's in my + toes I feel 'em. W'en I 'urts my 'and, it's my 'and.' 'My dear sir,' sez + the doctor calm-like, 'it hain't in yer 'and, nor yet in yer toes, but in + yer brain, in yer mind, yeh feel the pain.' 'P'raps,' sez Ben quite short + again. My! 'e WAS short! 'But the feelin' in my mind is that my toes is + 'urtin' most orful, an' I'd like to 'ave 'em buried if it's goin' to 'elp + any.' 'Oh, come, Benny, that's all nonsense, yeh know,' sez the doctor, + puttin' 'im off. But father is terr'ble persistent, an' 'e keeps on an' + sez, 'Don't 'is mind know 'e hain't got no toes, doctor? 'Ow can 'is mind + feel 'is toes 'urt w'en 'is mind knows 'e hain't got no toes to 'urt?' 'It + hain't 'is toes, I tell yeh,' sez the doctor quite short, 'jest the + feelin' of 'is toes in 'is mind.' 'The feelin' of 'is toes in 'is mind?' + sez father. 'But 'e hain't got no toes to give 'im the feelin' of 'is toes + in 'is mind or henywheres else.' 'Dummed old fool!' sez the doctor, quite + losin' 'is temper, fer father is terr'ble provokin'. 'It's the feelin' 'is + toes used to give 'im, an' that same feelin' of toes keeps up after 'is + toes is gone.' 'Well,' sez father, an' me tryin' to ketch 'is eye to make + 'im stop, 'I don't git no feelin' of toes till me toes is 'urt. If I don't + 'urt 'em, I don't git no feelin' of toes. 'Ow are yeh goin' to start that + ther' toe feelin' 'thout no toes to start it?' 'Yeh don't need no toes to + start it,' sez the doctor, 'it's the old feelin' of toes a-keepin' up.' + 'Ther' hain't no—' 'Look 'ere,' sez 'e, 'I tell yeh it hain't toes, + it's the nerves of the toes reachin' up to the brain. Don't yeh see? W'en + the toes are 'urt the nerves sends word up to the brain jest like the + telegraph.' Then father 'e ponders aw'ile. 'W'ere's them nerves, doctor?' + sez 'e. 'In the toes.' 'In the toes? Then w'en them toes is gone them + nerves is gone, hain't they?' 'Yes.' 'But the nerve feelin' is ther' + still.' This puzzles father some. 'Then,' sez 'e, 'the feelin's in the + nerves, an' if ther's no nerves, no feelin's.' 'That's so,' sez the + doctor. 'W'en them toes is gone, doctor, the nerves is gone. 'Ow could + ther' be any feelin's?' 'Look 'ere,' sez the doctor, an' I was feared 'e + was gettin' real mad, 'jest quit it right now.' 'Well, well. All right, + doctor,' sez father quite polite, 'I've got a terr'ble inquirin' mind, an' + I jest wanted to know.' Then the doctor 'e did seem a little ashamed of + 'isself, an' 'e set right down an' sez 'e, 'Look a-'ere, Mr. Fallows, I'll + hexplain it to yeh. It's like the telegraph wire. 'Ere's a station we'll + call Bradford, an' 'ere's a station we'll call London. Hevery station 'as + 'is own call. Bradford station, we'll say, 'as a call X Y Z, an' w'enever + X Y Z sounds yeh know that's Bradford a-speakin'. So if yeh 'eerd X Y Z in + London yeh'd know somethin' was wrong with Bradford.' 'But if ther' hain't + any,' breaks in father, who was gettin' impatient. 'Shut up! will yeh?' + sez the doctor, 'till I git through. Well; all 'long that Bradford line + yeh can give that Bradford call. D'yeh see?' 'Can yeh make that Bradford + call houtside of Bradford?' sez father. 'Well,' sez the doctor, an' 'e + seemed quite puzzled, 'e did, 'I suppose yeh can. Any kind of a bang'll do + along the line. Now ther's Benny's toes, w'en they git 'urt they sounds up + to the brain, “Toes! Toes! Toes!” an' all 'long that toe line + yeh can git the same call to the brain.' This keeps father quiet a long + time, then sez 'e, 'I say, doctor, is ther' many of them nerves?' + ''Undreds of 'em.' 'Hevery part of the body got nerves?' 'Yes.' 'Hankles? + calves? shins?' 'Yes, all got nerves.' 'Well, doctor,' sez father, quite + triumphant, 'w'en yeh cut through hankles, shins, an' heverythin', all + them nerves begin to shout, don't they?' 'Yes,' sez the doctor, not seein' + w'ere father was at. 'Then,' sez 'e quick-like, 'w'at makes 'em all shout + “Toes?” W'y don't the brain 'ear “Hankle” or + “'Eel”?' Then the old doctor 'e did git mad an' 'e did swear + at father most orful. But father, 'e knows 'ow to conduct 'isself, an' sez + 'e quite dignified, 'I 'ope as 'ow I know 'ow to treat a gentleman.' This + pulls the old doctor up an' 'e sez, 'I beg yer pardon, Mr. Fallows,' sez + 'e. 'Don't mention it,' sez father. Then the doctor went on quite nice, + 'Yeh see, Mr. Fallows, the truth is, we don't hunderstand these things + very well,' sez 'e. 'Well, doctor,' sez father, 'it would 'a' saved a lot + of trouble if yeh'd said so at the first.' An' 'e said no more, but I seed + 'im thinkin' 'ard, an' w'en the doctor was goin' 'e speaks up sez, sez 'e, + 'I think I know w'y it's the shoutin' of toes keeps up an' not 'eels or + hankles,' sez 'e. 'W'en my thirteen gits a-shoutin' in this little 'ouse, + yeh cawn't 'ear the old woman or me. Ther's thirteen of 'em. An' I suppose + w'en them toes gits a-shoutin' yeh cawn't 'ear nothin' of hankle, or 'eel, + but it's all toes. Ther's five to one. But, doctor,' 'e sez, as 'e druv' + away, 'if it's not too bold, would yeh mind buryin' them toes?'” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Mrs. Fallows, pulling herself up, “I do + talk. But poor Benny, 'e kep' a-cryin' with 'is toes till that ther' + blessed young lady come, the young doctor fetched 'er, an' the minit she + begin to sing, poor Benny 'e fergits 'is toes an' 'e soon falls off to + sleep, the first 'e 'ad fer two days an' two nights. Poor dear! An 'e + hain't ever done talkin' 'bout that very young lady an' the young doctor. + An' a lovely pair they'd make, poor souls.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret was conscious of a sudden pang at this grouping of names by Mrs. + Fallows, but before she had time to analyse her feelings Iola reappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Well, good-bye,” said Mrs. Fallows. “Yeh'll come agin + w'en yeh git back. Good-bye, Miss,” she said to Margaret. “It + does seem to give me a fresh start w'en yeh put things to rights.” + </p> + <p> + It was not till that night when she was in her own room preparing for bed + that Margaret had time to analyse that sudden pang. + </p> + <p> + “It can't be that I am jealous,” she said. “Of course, + she is far more attractive than I am and why shouldn't everyone like her + better?” She shook her fist at her reflection in the glass. “Do + you know, you are as mean as you can be,” she said viciously. + </p> + <p> + At that moment there came from Iola's room the sound of soft singing. + </p> + <p> + “It's no wonder,” said Margaret as she listened to the + exquisite sound, “it's no wonder that she could catch poor Ben and + his mother with a voice like that. Yes, and—and the rest of them, + too.” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes there was a tap at her door and Iola came in, her hair + hanging like a dusky curtain about her face. Margaret uttered an + involuntary exclamation of admiration. + </p> + <p> + “My! you are lovely!” she cried. “No wonder everyone + loves you.” With a sudden rush of penitent feeling for her “mean + thoughts” she put her arms about Iola and kissed her warmly. + </p> + <p> + “Lovely! Nonsense!” she exclaimed, surprised at this display + of affection so unusual for Margaret, “I am not half so lovely as + you. When I see you at home here with all the things to worry you and the + children to care for, I think you are just splendid and I feel myself + cheap and worthless.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret was conscious of a grateful glow in her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, my work doesn't amount to much, washing and dusting and + mending. Anybody could do it. No one would ever notice me. Wherever you go + the people just fall down and worship you.” As she spoke she let + down her hair preparatory to brushing it. It fell like a cloud, a + golden-yellow cloud, about her face and shoulders. Iola looked critically + at her. + </p> + <p> + “You are beautiful,” she said slowly. “Your hair is + lovely, and your big blue eyes, and your face has something, what is it? I + can't tell you. But I believe people would come to you in difficulty. Yes. + That's it,” she continued, with her eyes on Margaret's face, “I + can please them in a way. I can sing. Yes, I can sing. Some day I shall + make people listen. But suppose I couldn't sing, suppose I lost my voice, + people would forget me. They wouldn't forget you.” + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense!” said Margaret brusquely. “It is not + your voice alone; it is your beauty and something I cannot describe, + something in your manner that is so fetching. At any rate, all the young + fellows are daft about you.” + </p> + <p> + “But the women don't care for me,” said Iola, with the same + slow, thoughtful voice. “If I wanted very much I believe I could + make them. But they don't. There's Mrs. Boyle, she doesn't like me.” + </p> + <p> + “Now you're talking nonsense,” said Margaret impatiently. + “You ought to have heard old Mrs. Fallows this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” continued Iola, ignoring her remark, “the women + all like you, and the men, too, in a way.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk nonsense,” said Margaret impatiently. “When + you're around the boys don't look at me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they do,” said Iola, as if pondering the question. + “Ben does.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret laughed scornfully. “Ben likes my jelly.” + </p> + <p> + “And Dick does,” continued Iola, “and Barney.” + Here she shot a keen glance at Margaret's face. Margaret caught the + glance, and, though enraged at herself, she could not prevent a warm flush + spreading over her fair cheek and down her bare neck. + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw!” she cried angrily, “those boys! Of course, they + like me. I've known them ever since I was a baby. Why, I used to go + swimming with them in the pond. They think of me just like—well—just + like a boy, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so? They are nice boys, I think, that is, if they had + a chance to be anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Be anything!” cried Margaret hotly. “Why, Dick's going + to be a minister and—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Dick will do something, though he'll make a funny clergyman. + But Barney, what will he be? Just a miller?” + </p> + <p> + “Miller or whatever he is, he'll be a man, and that's good enough,” + replied Margaret indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I suppose so. But it's a pity. You know in this pokey + little place no one will ever hear of him. I mean he'll never make any + stir.” To Iola there was no crime so deadly as the “unheard + of.” “And yet,” she went on, “if he had a chance—” + </p> + <p> + But Margaret could bear this no longer. “What are you talking about? + There are plenty of good men who are never heard of.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” cried Iola quickly, “I didn't mean—of course + your father. Well, your father is a gentle man. But Barney—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, go to bed! Come, get out of my room. Go to bed! I must get to + sleep. Seven o'clock comes mighty quick. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be cross, Margaret. I didn't mean to say anything offensive. + And I want you to love me. I think I want everyone to love me. I can't + bear to have people not love me. But more than anyone else I want you.” + As she spoke she turned impulsively toward Margaret and put her arms + around her neck. Margaret relented. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I love you,” she said. “There,” kissing + her, “good-night. Go to sleep or you'll lose your beauty.” + </p> + <p> + But Iola clung to her. “Good-night, dear Margaret,” she said, + her lips trembling pathetically. “You are the only girl friend I + ever had. I couldn't bear you to forget me or to give up loving me.” + </p> + <p> + “I never forget my friends,” cried Margaret gravely. “And + I never cease to love them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Margaret!” said Iola, trembling and clinging fast to her, + “don't turn from me. No matter what comes, don't stop loving me.” + </p> + <p> + “You little goose,” cried Margaret, caressing her as if she + were a child, “of course I will always love you. Good-night now.” + She kissed Iola tenderly. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” said Iola. “You know this is my last night + with you for a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “Not the very last,” said Margaret. “We go to the Mill + to-morrow night, you remember, and you come back here with me. Barney is + going to have Ben there for nursing and feeding.” + </p> + <p> + Next day Barney had Ben down to the Mill, and that was the beginning of a + new life to Ben in more ways than one. The old mill became a place of + interest and delight to him. Perhaps his happiest hours were spent in what + was known as Barney's workroom, where were various labour-saving machines + for churning, washing, and apple-paring, which, by Barney's invention, + were run by the mill power. He offered to connect the sewing machine with + the same power, but his mother would have none of it. + </p> + <p> + Before many more weeks had gone Ben was hopping about by the aid of a + crutch, eager to make himself useful, and soon he was not only “paying + his board,” as Barney declared, but “earning good wages as + well.” + </p> + <p> + The early afternoon found Margaret and Iola on their way to the Mill. It + was with great difficulty that Margaret had been persuaded to leave her + home for so long a time. The stern conscience law under which she + regulated her life made her suspect those things which gave her peculiar + pleasure, and among these was a visit to the Mill and the Mill people. It + was in vain that Dick set before her, with the completeness amounting to + demonstration, the reasons why she should make that visit. “Ben + needs you,” he argued. “And Iola will not come unless with + you. Barney and I, weary with our day's work, absolutely require the cheer + and refreshment of your presence. Mother wants you. I want you. We all + want you. You must come.” It was Mrs. Boyle's quiet invitation and + her anxious entreaty and command that she should throw off the burden at + times, that finally weighed with her. + </p> + <p> + The hours of that afternoon, spent partly in rowing about in the old + flat-bottomed boat seeking water lilies in the pond, and partly in the + shade of the big willows overlooking the dam, were full of restful delight + to Margaret. It was one of those rare summer evenings that fall in harvest + weather when, after the burning heat of the day, the cool air is beginning + to blow across the fields with long shadows. When their work was done the + boys hurried to join the little group under the big willows. They were all + there. Ben was set there in the big armchair, Mrs. Boyle with her + knitting, for there were no idle hours for her, Margaret with a book which + she pretended to read, old Charley smoking in silent content, Iola lazily + strumming her guitar and occasionally singing in her low, rich voice some + of her old Mammy's songs or plantation hymns. Of these latter, however, + Mrs. Boyle was none too sure. To her they bordered dangerously on + sacrilege; nor did she ever quite fully abandon herself to delight in the + guitar. It continued to be a “foreign” and “feckless” + sort of instrument. But in spite of her there were times when the old lady + paused in her knitting and sat with sombre eyes looking far across the + pond and into the shady isles of the woods on the other side while Iola + sang some of her quaint Southern “baby songs.” + </p> + <p> + Under Dick's tuition the girl learned some of the Highland laments and + love songs of the North, to which his mother had hushed him to sleep + through his baby years. To Barney these songs took place with the Psalms + of David, if, indeed, they were not more sacred, and it was with a shock + at first that he heard the Southern girl with her “foreign + instrument” try over these songs that none but his mother had ever + sung to him. Listening to Iola's soft, thrilling voice carrying these old + Highland airs, he was conscious of a strange incongruity. They undoubtedly + took on a new beauty, but they lost something as well. + </p> + <p> + “No one sings them like your mother, Barney,” said Margaret + after Dick had been drilling Iola on some of their finer shadings and + cadences, “and they are quite different with the guitar, too. They + are not the same a bit. They make me see different things and feel + different things when your mother sings.” + </p> + <p> + “Different how?” said Dick. + </p> + <p> + “I can't tell, but somehow they give me a different taste in my + mouth, just the difference between eating your mother's scones with rich + creamy milk and eating fruit cake and honey with tea to drink.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Barney gravely. “They lose the Scotch + with the guitar. They are sweet and beautiful, wonderful, but they are a + different kind altogether. To me it's the difference between a wood violet + and a garden rose.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to the poetry of him. Come, mother,” cried Dick, + “sing us one now.” + </p> + <p> + “Me sing!” cried the mother aghast. “After yon!” + nodding toward Iola. “You would not be shaming your mother, Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “Shaming you, indeed!” cried Margaret, indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Do, Mrs. Boyle,” entreated Iola. “I have never heard + you sing. Indeed, I did not know you could sing.” + </p> + <p> + Something in her voice grated upon Barney's ear, but he spoke no word. + </p> + <p> + “Sing!” cried Dick. “You ought to hear her. Now, mother, + for the honor of the heather! Give us 'Can Ye Sew Cushions?' That's a + 'baby song,' too.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Barney quietly, “Sing 'The Mac'Intosh,' + mother.” And he began to play that exquisite Highland lament. + </p> + <p> + It was not her son's entreaty so much as something in the soft drawl of + the Southern girl that made Mrs. Boyle yield. Something in that tone + touched the pride in the old lady's Highland blood. When Barney reached + the end of the refrain his mother took up the verse with the violin + accompanying. + </p> + <p> + Her voice lacked fulness and power. It was worn and thin, but she had the + exquisite lilting note of the Highland maids at their milking or of the + fisher folk at the mending of their nets. Clear and sweet and with a + penetrating pathos indescribable, the voice rose and fell in all the + quaint turns and quavers and cadences that a tune takes on with age. As + she sang her song in the soft Gaelic tongue, with hands lying idly in her + lap, with eyes glowing in their gloomy depths, the spell of mountain and + glen and loch fell upon her sons and upon the girl seated at her feet, + while Iola's great lustrous eyes, fastened upon the stranger's face, + softened to tears. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is too lovely!” cried Iola, when the song was done, + clapping her hands. “No, not lovely. That is not the word. Sad, sad.” + She hid her face in her hands one impulsive moment, then said softly, + “I could never do that. Never! Never! What is it you put into the + song? What is it?” she cried, turning to Barney. + </p> + <p> + “It's the moan of the sea,” said Barney gravely. + </p> + <p> + “It gives a feller a kind of holler pain inside,” said Ben + Fallows. “There hain't no words fer it.” + </p> + <p> + “Sing again,” entreated Iola, all the lazy indifference gone + from her voice. “Sing just one more.” + </p> + <p> + “This one, mother,” said Barney, playing the tune, “your + mother used to sing, you know, 'Fhir a Bhata'.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “How often haunting the highest hilltop, + I scan the ocean thy sail to see; + Wilt come to-night, Love? wilt come to-morrow? + Wilt ever come, love, to comfort me? + Fhir a bhata, na horo eile, + Fhir a bhata, na horo eile, + Fhir a bhata, na horo eile, + O fare ye well, love, where'er ye be.” + </pre> + <p> + For some moments they sat quiet with the spell of the dreamy, sad music + upon them. + </p> + <p> + “One more, mother,” entreated Dick. + </p> + <p> + “No, laddie. The night is falling. There's work to-morrow for you. + Aye, and for Margaret here.” + </p> + <p> + Iola rose and came timidly to Mrs. Boyle. “Thank you,” she + said, lifting up her great, dark eyes to the old woman's face, “you + have given me great pleasure to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, and you're welcome, lassie,” said Mrs. Boyle, smitten + with a sudden pity for the motherless girl. “And we will be glad to + see ye when ye come back again.” + </p> + <p> + For this, too, it was that Iola as well as Margaret could never forget + that afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “And now, ladies and gentlemen,” cried Dick, striking an + attitude, “though the 'good cheer' department may seem to have + accomplished the purpose for which it was organised, it cannot be said to + have outlived its usefulness, in that it appears to have created for + itself a sphere of operations from which it cannot be withdrawn without + injury to all its members. I, therefore, respectfully suggest that the + department be organised upon a permanent basis with headquarters at the + Mill and my humble self at its head. All who agree will say 'Aye'.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” said Barney with prompt heartiness. + </p> + <p> + “Me, too,” cried Iola, holding up both hands. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, what do you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, laddie. There's much need for good cheer in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” turning to Margaret, who stood with Mrs. Boyle's + arm thrown about her, “how do you vote?” + </p> + <p> + “This member needs it too much”—with a somewhat + uncertain smile—“to say anything but 'Aye'.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Dick solemnly, “the 'good cheer' department + is hereby and henceforth organised as a permanent institution in the + community here represented, and we earnestly hope that its members will + continue in their faithful adherence thereto, believing, as we do, that + loyalty to this institution will be its highest reward.” + </p> + <p> + But none of them knew what potencies of joy and of pain lay wrapped up for + them all in that same department of “good cheer.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII + </h2> + <h3> + BEN'S GANG + </h3> + <p> + The harvest time in Ontario is ever a season of delightful rush and + bustle. The fall wheat follows hard upon the haying, and close upon the + fall wheat comes the barley, then the oats and the rest of the spring + grain. + </p> + <p> + It was this year to be a more than usually busy time for the Boyle boys. + They had a common purse, and out of that purse the payments on the + mortgage must be met, as well as Dick's college expenses. For the little + farm, with the profits from the mill, could do little more than provide a + living for the family. Ordinarily the lads worked for day's wages, the + farmers gladly paying the highest going, for the boys were famous binders + and good workers generally. This year, however, they had in mind something + more ambitious. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” said Dick, “did you hear of the new harvesting + gang?” + </p> + <p> + “And who might they be?” asked his mother, always on the + lookout for some nonsense from her younger son. + </p> + <p> + “Boyle and Fallows—or Fallows and Boyle, I guess it will be. + Ben's starting with us Monday morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, laddie. There will be no reaping for Ben this year, I + doubt, poor fellow; and, besides, I will be needing him for myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But I am in earnest, mother. Ben is to drive the reaper for + us. He can sit on the reaper half a day, you know. At least, his doctor + here says so. And he will keep us busy.” + </p> + <p> + “If I cawn't keep the two of you a-humpin', though you are some + pumpkins at bindin', I hain't worth my feed.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Barney,” remonstrated his mother, “is he fit to go + about that machine? Something might happen the lad.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think there is any danger, mother. And, besides, we will be + at hand all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “And what will two lads like you do following the machine all day? + You will only be hurting yourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “You watch us, mother,” cried Dick. “We'll be after Ben + like a dog after a coon.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said his mother. “I have heard that it takes + four good men to keep up to a machine. It was no later than yesterday that + Mr. Morrison's Sam was telling me that they had all they could do to + follow up, the whole four of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” grunted Dick scornfully, “I suppose so. Four like + Fatty Morrison and that gang of his!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, laddie. It is not good to be speaking ill of your neighbours,” + said his mother. + </p> + <p> + “It's not speaking ill to say that a man is fat. It's a very fine + compliment, mother. Only wish someone could say the same of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, and you would be the better of it,” replied his + mother compassionately, “with your bones sticking through your skin!” + </p> + <p> + It was with the spring crop that Ben Fallows began his labours; and much + elevated, indeed, was he at the prospect of entering into partnership with + the Boyle boys, who were renowned for the very virtues which poor Ben + consciously lacked and to which, in the new spirit that was waking in him, + he was beginning to aspire. For the weeks spent under Barney's care and + especially in the atmosphere of the Mill household had quickened in Ben + new motives and new ambitions. This Barney had noticed, and it was for + Ben's sake more than for their own that the boys had associated him with + them in their venture of taking harvesting contracts. And as the summer + went on they found no reason to regret the new arrangement. But it was at + the expense of long days and hard days for the two boys following the + reaper, and often when the day's work was done they could with difficulty + draw their legs home and to bed. Indeed, there were nights when Dick, + hardly the equal of his brother in weight and strength, lay sleepless from + sheer exhaustion, while Barney from sympathy kept anxious vigil with him. + Morning, however, found them stiff and sore, it is true, but full of + courage and ready for the renewal of the long-drawn struggle which was + winning for them not only very substantial financial profits, but also + high fame as workers. The end of the harvest found them hard, tough, full + of nerve and fit for any call within the limit of their powers. It was Ben + who furnished the occasion of such a call being made upon them. A rainy + day found him at the blacksmith shop with the Mill team waiting to be + shod. The shop was full of horses and men. A rainy day was a harvest day + for the blacksmith. All odd jobs allowed to accumulate during the fine + weather were on that day brought to the shop. + </p> + <p> + Ben, with his crutch and his wooden leg, found himself the centre of a new + interest and sympathy. In spite of the sympathy, however, there was a + disposition to chaff poor Ben, whose temper was brittle, and whose tongue + took on a keener edge as his temper became more uncertain. Withal, he had + a little man's tendency to brag. To-day, however, though conscious of the + new interest centring in him, and though visibly swollen with the + importance of his new partnership with the Boyle boys, he was exhibiting a + dignity and self-control quite unusual, and was, for that very reason, + provocative of chaff more pungent than ordinary. + </p> + <p> + Chief among his tormenters was Sam Morrison, or “Fatty” + Morrison, as he was colloquially designated. Sam was one of four sons of + “Old King” Morrison, the richest and altogether most important + farmer in the district. On this account Samuel was inclined to assume the + blustering manners of his portly, pompous, but altogether good-natured + father, the “Old King.” But while bluster in the old man, who + had gained the respect and esteem that success generally brings, was + tolerated, in Sammy it became ridiculous and at times offensive. The young + man had been entertaining the assembled group of farmers and farm lads + with vivid descriptions of various achievements in the harvest field on + the part of himself or some of the members of his distinguished family, + the latest and most notable achievement being the “slashing down and + tying up” of a ten-acre field of oats by the four of them, the + “Old King” himself driving the reaper. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir!” shouted Sammy. “And Joe, he took the last + sheaf right off that table! You bet!” + </p> + <p> + “How many of you?” asked Ben sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Just four,” replied Sammy, turning quickly at Ben's + unexpected question. + </p> + <p> + “How many shocking?” continued Ben, with a judicial air. + </p> + <p> + “Why, none, you blamed gander! An' kep' us humpin', too, you bet!” + </p> + <p> + “I guess so,” grunted Ben, “from what I've seed.” + </p> + <p> + Sam regarded him steadfastly. “And what have you 'seed,' Mr. + Fallows, may I ask?” he inquired with fine scorn. + </p> + <p> + “Seed? Seed you bindin', of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what are ye hootin' about?” Sam was exceedingly wroth. + </p> + <p> + “I hain't been talking much for the last hour.” In moments of + excitement Ben became uncertain of his h's. “I used to talk more + when I wasn't so busy, but I hain't been talkin' so much this 'ere + 'arvest. We hain't had time. When we're on a job,” continued Ben, as + the crowd drew near to listen, “we hain't got time fer talkin', and + when we're through we don't feel like it. We don't need, to.” + </p> + <p> + A general laugh of approval followed Ben's words. + </p> + <p> + “You're right, Ben. You're a gang of hustlers,” said Alec + Murray. “There ain't much talkin' when you git a-goin'. But that's a + pretty good day's work, Ben, ten acres.” + </p> + <p> + Ben gave a snort. “Yes. Not a bad day's work fer two men.” He + had no love for any of the Morrisons, whose near neighbours he was and at + whose hands he had suffered many things. + </p> + <p> + “Two men!” shouted Sammy. “Your gang, I suppose you + mean.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Ben's self-control vanished. “Yes, by the jumpin' Jemima!” + he cried, facing suddenly upon Sam. “Them's the two, if yeh want to + know. Them's binders! They don't stop, at hevery corner to swap lies an' + to see if it's goin' to ran. They keep a-workin', they do. They don't wait + to cool hoff before they drink fer fear they git foundered, as if they was + 'osses, like you fellers up on the west side line there.” Ben threw + his h's recklessly about. “You hain't no binders, you hain't. Yeh + never seed any.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment “King” Morrison himself entered the blacksmith + shop. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Ben! What's eatin' you?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Ben grew suddenly quiet. “Makin' a bloomin' hass of myself, I guess,” + he growled. + </p> + <p> + “What's up with Benny? He seems a little raised,” said the + “Old King,” addressing the crowd generally. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, blowin' 'bout his harvestin' gang,” said his son Sam. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can do a little blowin' yourself, Sammy.” + </p> + <p> + “Guess I came by it natcherly n'ough,” said Sam. He stood in + no awe of his father. + </p> + <p> + “Blowin's all right if you can back it up, Sammy. But what's the + matter, Benny, my boy? We're all glad to see you about, an' more'n that, + we're glad to hear of your good work this summer. But what are they doin' + to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Doin' nothin',” broke in Sam, a little nettled at the “Old + King's” kindly tone toward Ben. “He's blowin' round here to + beat the band 'bout his gang.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sam, he's got a right to blow, for they're two good workers.” + </p> + <p> + “But they can't bind ten acres a day, as Ben blows about.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that would be a little strong,” said the “Old + King.” “Why, it took my four boys a good day to tie up ten + acres, Ben.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm talkin' 'bout binders,” said Ben, in what could hardly be + called a respectful tone. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Ben, no two men can bind ten acres in a day, so just + quit yer blowin' an' talk sense.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm talkin' 'bout binders,” repeated Ben stubbornly. + </p> + <p> + “And I tell you, Ben,” replied the “Old King,” + with emphasis, “your boys—and they're good boys, too—can't + tie no ten acres in a day. They've got the chance of tryin' on that ten + acres of wheat on my west fifty. If they can do it in a day they can have + it.” + </p> + <p> + “They wouldn't take it,” answered Ben regretfully. “They + can do it, fast enough.” + </p> + <p> + Then the “Old King” quite lost patience. “Now, Ben, shut + up! You're a blowhard! Why, I'd bet any man the whole field against $50 + that it can't be done.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take you on that,” said Alec Murray. + </p> + <p> + “What?” The “Old King” was nonplussed for a + moment. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take that. But I guess you don't mean it.” + </p> + <p> + But the “Old King” was too much of a sport to go back upon his + offer. “It's big odds,” he said. “But I'll stick to it. + Though I want to tell you, there's nearer twelve acres than ten.” + </p> + <p> + “I know the field,” said Alec. “But I'm willing to risk + it. The winner pays the wages. How long a day?” continued Alec. + </p> + <p> + “Quit at six.” + </p> + <p> + “The best part of the day is after that.” + </p> + <p> + “Make it eight, then,” said the “Old King.” + “And we'll bring it off on Monday. We're thrashing that day, but the + more the merrier.” + </p> + <p> + “There's jest one thing,” interposed Ben, “an' that is, + the boys mustn't know about this.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” said Alec. “They're dead game.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dick'd jump at it quick enough, but Barney wouldn't let 'im + risk it. He's right careful of that boy.” + </p> + <p> + After full discussion next Sabbath morning by those who were loitering, + after their custom, in the churchyard waiting for the service to begin, it + was generally agreed that the “Old King” with his usual + shrewdness had “put his money on the winning horse.” Even Alec + Murray, though he kept a bold face, confided to his bosom friend, Rory + Ross, that he “guessed his cake was dough, though they would make a + pretty big stagger at it.” + </p> + <p> + “If Dick only had Barney's weight,” said Rory, “they + would stand a better chance.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But Dick tires quicker. An' he'll die before he drops.” + </p> + <p> + “But ten acres, Alec! And there's more than ten acres in that field.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. But it's standing nice, an' it's lighter on the knoll in + the centre. If I can only get them goin' their best clip—I'll have + to work it some way. I'll have to get Barney moving. Dick's such an + ambitious little beggar he'd follow till he bust. The first thing,” + continued Alec, “is to get them a good early start. I'll have a talk + with Ben.” + </p> + <p> + As a result of his conversation with Ben it was hardly daylight on Monday + morning when Mrs. Boyle, glancing at her clock, sprang at once from her + bed and called her sons. + </p> + <p> + “You're late, Barney. It's nearly six, and you have to go to + Morrison's to-day. Here's Ben with the horses fed.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, mother, it's only five o'clock by my watch.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it's six.” + </p> + <p> + Upon comparison Ben's watch corresponded with the clock. Barney concluded + something must be wrong and routed Dick up, and with such good purpose did + they hasten through breakfast that in an hour from the time the boys were + called they were standing in the field waiting for Ben to begin the day's + work. + </p> + <p> + After they had been binding an hour Alec Murray appeared on the field. + “I'm going to shock,” he announced. “They've got men + enough up at the thrashing, an' the 'Old King' wants to get this field in + shock by to-morrow afternoon so he can get it thrashed, if you hustlers + can get it down by then.” Alec was apparently in great spirits. He + brought with him into the field a breezy air of excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Ben, don't take all day oiling up there. I guess I'm after + you to-day, remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Guess yeh'll wait till it's tied, won't yeh?” said Ben, who + thoroughly understood Alec's game. + </p> + <p> + “Don't know 'bout that. I may have to jump in an' tie a few myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you fret yourself,” replied Dick. “If you shock + all that's tied to-day you'll need to hang your shirt on the fence at + night.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep cool, Dick, or you'll be leavin' Barney too far behind. You + tie quicker than him, I hear.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know,” said Dick modestly, though quite convinced + in his own mind that he could. + </p> + <p> + “Dick's a little quicker, ain't he?” said Alec, turning to + Barney. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's quick enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you never have a tussle?” inquired Alec, snatching up a + couple of sheaves in each arm and setting them in their places in the + shock with a quick swing, then stepping off briskly for others. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Barney shortly. + </p> + <p> + “I guess he didn't want you to hurt yourself,” he suggested + cunningly to Dick. “When a fellow isn't very strong he's got to be + careful.” This was Dick's sensitive point. He was not content to do + a man's work in the field, but he was miserable unless he took first + place. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he needn't be afraid of hurting me,” he said, taking + Alec's bait. “I've worked with him all harvest and I'm alive yet.” + Unconsciously Dick's pace quickened, and for the next few minutes Barney + was left several sheaves behind. + </p> + <p> + “He's just foolin' with you, Dick,” jeered Alec. “He + wouldn't hurt you for the world.” + </p> + <p> + Unconsciously by his hustling manner and by his sly suggestion of + superiority now to one and again to the other, he put both boys upon their + mettle, and before they were aware they were going at a racing pace, + though neither would acknowledge that to the other. Alec kept following + them close, almost running for his sheaves, flinging a word of + encouragement now to one, now to the other, shouting at Ben as he turned + the corners, and by every means possible keeping the excitement at the + highest point. But he was careful not to overdrive his men. By a previous + arrangement and without serious difficulty he had persuaded Teenie Ross, + who had come to assist the Morrison girls at the threshing, to bring out a + lunch to the field at ten o'clock. For half an hour they sat in the long + grass in the shade of a maple tree eating the lunch which Dick at least + was beginning to feel in need of. But not a minute more did Alec allow. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to catch you fellows,” he said, “if I've to + take off my shirt to do it.” + </p> + <p> + Dick was quick to respond and again set off at full speed. But the grain + was heavier than Alec had counted upon, and when the noon hour had arrived + he estimated that the grain was not more than one-third down. A full hour + and a half he allowed his men for rest, cunningly drawing them off from + the crowd of threshers to a quiet place in the orchard where they could + lie down and sleep, waking them when time was up that there should be no + loss of a single precious moment. As they were going out to the field Alec + suggested that instead of coming back for supper at five, according to the + usual custom, they should have it brought to them in the field. + </p> + <p> + “It's a long way up to the house,” he explained, “and + the days are getting short.” And though the boys didn't take very + kindly to the suggestion, neither would think of opposing it. + </p> + <p> + But in spite of all that Alec and Ben could do, when the threshers knocked + off work for the day and sauntered down to the field where the reaping was + going on, it looked as if the “Old King” were to win his bet. + </p> + <p> + “Keep out of this field!” yelled Alec, as the men drew near; + “you're interferin' with our work. Come, get out!” For the + boys had begun to take it easy and chatting with some of them. + </p> + <p> + “Get away from here, I tell you!” cried Alec. “You line + up along the fence and we'll show you how this thing should be done!” + </p> + <p> + Realizing the fairness of his demand, the men retired from the field. The + long shadows of the evening were falling across the field. The boys were + both showing weariness at every step they took. Alec was at his wit's end. + The grain was all cut, but there was still a large part of it to bind. He + determined to take the boys into his confidence. He knew all the risk + there was in this step. Barney might refuse to risk an injury to his + brother. It was Alec's only chance, however, and walking over to the boys, + he told them the issue at stake. + </p> + <p> + “Boys,” he said, “I don't want you to hurt yourselves. I + don't care a dern about the money. I'd like to beat 'Old King' Morrison + and I'd like to see you make a record. You've done a big day's work + already, and if you want to quit I won't say a word.” + </p> + <p> + “Quit!” cried Dick in scorn, kindling at Alec's story. “What + time have we left?” + </p> + <p> + “We have till eight o'clock. It's now just seven.” + </p> + <p> + “Come on then, Barney!” cried Dick. “We're good for an + hour, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, Dick,” said Barney, hesitating. + </p> + <p> + “Come along! I can stand it and I know you can.” And off he + set again at racing pace and making no attempt to hide it. + </p> + <p> + In half an hour there were still left them, taking two swaths apiece, the + two long sides and the two short ends. + </p> + <p> + “You can't do it, boys,” said Alec regretfully. “Let 'er + go.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, boys,” cried the “Old King,” who, with the + crowd, had drawn near, “you've done a big day's work. You'll hurt + yourselves. You've earned double pay and you'll get it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” cried Dick. “We'll put in the half hour at + any rate. Come on, Barney! Never mind your rake!” + </p> + <p> + His face looked pale and worn, but his eyes were ablaze with light, and + but for his pale face there was no sign of weariness about him. He flung + away his rake and, snatching up a band, kicked the sheaf together, caught + it up, drew, tied, and fastened it as with one single act. + </p> + <p> + “We'll show them waltz time, Barney,” he called, springing + toward the next sheaf. “One”—at the word he snatched up + and made the band, “two”—he passed the band around the + sheaf, kicking it at the same time into shape, “three”—he + drew and knotted the band, shoving the end in with his thumb. After him + went Barney. One—two—three! and a sheaf was done. One—two—three! + and so from sheaf to sheaf. It took them fifteen minutes to go down the + long side. Dick, who had the inside, finished and sprang to his place at + the outer side. + </p> + <p> + “Get inside!” shouted Barney, “let me take that swath!” + </p> + <p> + “Come along!” replied Dick, tying his sheaf. + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen minutes left, boys! I believe you're going to do it!” + At this Ben gave a yell. + </p> + <p> + “They're goin' to do it!” he shouted, stumping around in great + excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Double up, Dick!” cried Barney, carrying one sheaf to the + next and tying them both together. Dick followed Barney's example, but + here his brother's extra strength told in the race. Close after them came + the crowd, Alec leading them, watch in hand, all yelling. + </p> + <p> + “Two minutes for that end, boys!” cried Alec, as they reached + the corner. “You're goin' to do it, my hearties! You're goin' to do + it!” They had thirteen minutes in which to bind a side and an end. + </p> + <p> + “They can't do it, Alec,” said the “Old King.” + “They'll hurt themselves. Call them off!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you all right, Dick?” cried Barney, swinging on to the + outer swath. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” panted his brother, striding in at his side. + </p> + <p> + “Come on! We'll do it, then!” replied Barney. + </p> + <p> + Side by side they rushed. Sheaf by sheaf they tied together, Barney + gradually gaining by the doubling process. + </p> + <p> + “Don't wait for me,” gasped Dick, “if you can go faster!” + </p> + <p> + “One minute and a half, boys, if you can stand it!” cried + Alec, as they reached the last corner. “One minute and a half, and + we win!” + </p> + <p> + There remained five sheaves on the outer of Barney's two swaths, two on + the inner of Dick's. In all, nine for Barney, six for Dick. The sheaves + were comparatively small. Springing at this swath, Barney doubled the + first two, the second two, the third two, and putting the last three + together swung in upon Dick's swath where there were two sheaves left. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you touch it!” gasped Dick angrily. + </p> + <p> + “How's the time, Alec?” panted Barney. + </p> + <p> + “Half a minute.” + </p> + <p> + Before he spoke, Dick flung himself on his last two sheaves, crying, + “Out of the way there!” snatched his band, passing it around + the sheaf, tied it, flung it over his shoulder, and stood with his hands + on his knees, his breath coming in sobbing gasps. + </p> + <p> + For a few minutes the men went wild. Barney stepped to Dick's side, and + patting him on the shoulder, said, “Great man, Dick! But I was a + fool to let you!” + </p> + <p> + “That's what you were!” cried the “Old King,” + slapping Dick on the back, “but there's the greatest day's work ever + done in these parts. The wheat's yours,” he said, turning to Alec, + “but begad! I wish it was goin' to them that won it!” + </p> + <p> + “An' that's where it is going,” said Alec, “every blamed + sheaf of it, to Ben's gang.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll take what's coming to us,” said Barney shortly. + </p> + <p> + “I told yeh so,” said Ben regretfully. + </p> + <p> + “Why, don't you know it was for you I took the bet?” said + Alec, angry that he should be balked in his good intention to help the + boys. + </p> + <p> + “We'll take our wages,” repeated Barney in a tone that settled + the controversy. “The wheat is not ours.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it ain't mine,” said Alec, disgusted, remembering in how + great peril his $50 had been. + </p> + <p> + “Well, boys,” said the “Old King,” “it ain't + mine. We'll divide it in three.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll take our wages,” said Barney again, in sullen + determination. + </p> + <p> + “Confound the boy!” cried the “Old King.” “What'll + we do with the wheat? I say, we'll give it to Ben; he's had hard luck this + year.” + </p> + <p> + “No, by the jumpin' Jemima Jebbs!” said Ben, stumping over to + Barney's side. “I stand with the boss. I take my wages.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, dog-gone you all! Will you take double pay, then? There's two + days' good work there. And the rest we'll give to the church. Good thing + the minister ain't here or he'd kick, too!” + </p> + <p> + “But,” added the “Old King,” turning to his son + Sam, “after this you crawl into your shell when there's any blowin' + bein' done about Ben's gang.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX + </h2> + <h3> + LOVE'S TANGLED WAYS + </h3> + <p> + The mill lane was prinked with all the June flowers. Over the snake fence + massed the clover, red and white. Through the rails peeped the thistle + bloom, pink and purple, and higher up above the top rail the white crest + of the dogwood slowly nodded in the breeze this sweet summer day. In the + clover the bumblebees, the crickets, and the grasshoppers boomed, chirped, + crackled, shouting their joy to be alive in so good a place and on so good + a day. Above, the sky was blue, pure blue, and all the bluer for the + specks of cloud that hung, still-poised like white-winged birds, white + against the blue. Last evening's rain had washed the world clean. The sky, + the air, the flowers, the clover, red and white, the kindly grass that ran + green everywhere under foot, the dusty road, all were washed clean. In the + elm bunches by the fence, in the maples and thorns, the birds, their + summer preoccupations forgotten at the bidding of this new washed day, + recalled their spring songs and poured them forth with fine careless + courage. + </p> + <p> + In tune to this brave symphony of colour and song, and down this + flower-prinked, song-filled, clean washed, grassy lane stepped Dick this + summer morning, stepped with the spring and balance of the well-trained + athlete, stepped with the step of a man whose heart makes him merry music. + A clean-looking man was Dick, harmonious with the day and with the lane + down which he stepped. Against the grey of his suit his hands, his face, + and his neck, where the negligee shirt fell away wide, revealing his + strong, full curves spreading to the shoulders, all showed ruddy brown. He + was a man good to look upon, with his springy step, his tan skin, his + clear eye, but chiefly because out of his clear eye a soul looked forth + clean and unafraid upon God's good world of wholesome growing things. + </p> + <p> + From his three years of 'varsity life he came back unspoiled to his + boyhood's love of the open sky and of all things under it. He had just + come through a great year in college, his third, the greatest in many ways + of the college course. His class had thrust him into a man's place of + leadership in that world where only manhood counts, and he had “made + good.” In the literary, in the gym, on the campus he had made and + held high place, and on the class lists, in spite of his many + distractions, he had ranked a double first. Best of all, it filled him + with warm gratitude to remember that none of his fellows had grudged him + any of his good things. What a decent lot they were! It humbled him to + think of their pride in him. He would not disappoint them. Noblesse + oblige. + </p> + <p> + At the crest of the hill he paused to look back, and here the pain that + had been running below his consciousness, like the minor strain in rich + music, came to the top. This was Barney's spot. At this spot Barney always + made him pause to look back upon the old mill in its frame of beauty. Poor + Barney! Twice he had gone down to the exams, and twice he had failed. Of + all in the home circle only Dick could understand the full bitterness of + the cup of humiliation that his brother had put silently to his lips and + drained. To his mother, the failure brought no surprise, and she would + have been glad enough to have him give up “his notion of being a + doctor and be content with the mill.” She had no ambitions for poor + Barney, who was “a quiet lad and well-doing enough,” an + encomium which stood for all the virtues removed from any touch of genius. + She was not hurt by his failure. Indeed, she could hardly understand how + deep the shame had gone into his proud, reserved heart. His father did not + talk about it, but carried him off to look at some of the mill machinery + which had gone wrong, and it was only by a gentler tone in his voice that + Barney knew that his father understood. But Dick, with his fuller + knowledge of college life, realized as none other of them did the extent + of Barney's miserable sense of defeat. + </p> + <p> + And now, as he looked back upon the mill, Barney's pain became his anew. + The causes of his failure were not far to seek. “He had no chance!” + said Dick aloud, leaning upon the top rail and looking with gloomy eyes + upon the scene of beauty before him. Things had changed since old Doctor + Ferguson's time. The scientific basis of medicine was coming to its place + in medical study, and the old doctor's contempt for these new-fangled + notions had wrought ill for Barney. Dick remembered how he had gone, hot + with indignation for his brother, to the new English professor in + chemistry, whose papers were the terror of all pass men and, indeed, all + honour men who stuck too closely to the text-book. He remembered the + Englishman's drawling contempt as, after looking up Barney's name and + papers, he dismissed the matter with the words, “He knows nothing + whatever about the subject, couldn't conduct the simplest experiment, + don't you know.” Poor Barney! the ancient and elementary chemistry + of Dr. Ferguson seemed to hold not even the remotest affinity to that + which Professor Fish expected. Dick was glad this morning that he had had + sense enough to hold his tongue in the professor's presence. It comforted + him to recall the generous enthusiasm with which Dr. Trent, the most + brilliant surgeon on the staff, had recalled Barney's name. + </p> + <p> + “Your brother, is he? Well, sir, he's a wonder!” + </p> + <p> + “Fish doesn't think so,” Dick had replied. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Fish be hanged!” the doctor had answered, with the fine + contempt of a specialist in practical work for the theorist in medicine. + “He has some idiotic notions in his head that he plucks men for not + knowing. I don't say they are not necessary, but useful chiefly for + examination purposes. Send your brother down. Send him down. For if ever I + saw an embryonic surgeon, he's one! When he comes, bring him to me.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll come,” Dick had answered, his face hot to think that it + was for his sake Barney had remained grinding at home. + </p> + <p> + “And he's going this fall,” said Dick aloud, “or no + 'varsity for me.” He pulled a letter out of his pocket. It was from + his football comrade, young Macdonald, offering, in his father's name, to + Barney and himself positions in one of the lumber mills far up the Ottawa, + where, by working overtime, there was a chance of making $100 a month and + all found. “And we'll make it go,” said Dick. “There's + $300 apiece for us, and that's more than we want. Poor old chap!” he + continued, musing aloud, “he'll get his chance at last. Besides, + we'll get him away from that girl, confound her! though I'm afraid it's no + use now.” + </p> + <p> + A deeper pain surged up from the bottom of Dick's heart. “That girl” + was Iola. The night before, as they were driving home in the growing dark, + with halting words and with shamed face, as if he were doing his brother a + wrong, Barney had confided to him that Iola and he had come to an + understanding of their mutual love. Dick remembered this morning, and he + would remember to his dying day, the sense of loss, of being forsaken, + that had smitten him as he cried, “Oh, Barney! is it possible?” + Then, as Barney had gone on to explain how it had come about, almost + apologizing, as it seemed to Dick, for his weakness, Dick, seeing in the + gloom a gleam of hope, had cried, “We'll get you out of it, Barney. + I'll help you this summer.” And then again the inevitableness of + what had taken place had come over him at Barney's reply: “But, + Dick, I don't want to get out of it.” At that moment Dick's world + changed. No longer was he first with his brother. Iola had taken his + place. In vain Barney, guessing the thought in his heart, had protested + with eager, almost piteous, appeal that Dick would be the same to him as + ever. In the first acute moment of his pain he had cried out some quick + word of bitter reproach, but the look on Barney's face had checked him. He + was glad now that he had said nothing against the girl. And as he thought + of her in the saner light of the morning, he felt that he could not be + quite fair to her, and yet he wished it had been some other than Iola. + “It's that confounded voice of hers, and her eyes, and her whole + get-up. She's got something diabolically fetching about her.” Then, + as if he had gone too far, he continued, still musing aloud, “She's + good enough, I guess, but not for Barney.” That was one of the + bitter things that had survived the night. She was not good enough for his + brother, his hero, his beau ideal of high manhood ever since he could + think. “But there is no one good enough for Barney,” he + continued, “except—yes—there is one—Margaret—she + is good enough—even for Barney.” As Barney among men, so + Margaret among women had stood with Dick, peerless. And all his life he + had put these two together. Even as a little fellow, when saying his + prayers to his mother, next in the list to Barney's name had always come + Margaret's. She was like Barney in so many ways; strong like Barney in her + relentless devotion to duty; she had Barney's fine sense of honour, of + righteousness, and Barney's superb courage, and, more than anything else, + the same unfathomable heart of love. One could never get to the bottom of + it. No matter what the drain, there would still be love there. + </p> + <p> + It was the thought of Margaret that had set his heart singing within him + this morning. Even last night, after the first few moments of pain, the + thought of Margaret had come to him, bringing an odd sense of happiness, + and early this morning the first consciousness of loss, that had made him + tighten his arm hard about his brother, had been followed by that feeling + of happiness, indefinable at first, but soon traced to the thought of + Margaret. For the first time in his life he thought of her unrelated to + Barney. He had always loved Margaret, rejoiced in her high spirit, her + courage, her downright sincerity, her deep heart, but never for himself, + always for Barney. The first resentment that Barney should have passed her + by for one like Iola had given way to a timid fluttering of heart that + strengthened and deepened to a great joy that the way to Margaret for him + stood open. For himself, now, he might love her. With such marvellous + swiftness does love work that, when his mother bade him go “pay his + duty to the minister,” his heart responded with so great a leap of + joy that he found himself glancing quickly at the faces of those about + him, sure that they must have noticed. + </p> + <p> + And now he was on his way to Margaret. It was as if he had to make + acquaintance of her. He wondered how she would greet him and he wondered + what he should say to her. What would she be doing now? He glanced at his + watch. It was just ten o'clock. The morning work would be done. She might + come for a little stroll in the woods at the back of the manse, but he + would say nothing to her to-day. He would wait and watch to read her + heart. He sprang up the bank, that ran along beside the fence, to go on + his way. A gleam of white through the snake fence against the pink of the + clover caught his eye. Under the thorn tree—he knew the spot well—and + upon the grass, lay a girl. “By Jove!” he whispered, his heart + stopping, thumping, then rushing, “it is Margaret.” He would + creep up and surprise her. The deep grass deadened his footfalls. He was + close to her. He held his breath. She lay asleep, one arm under her head, + the other flung wide in an abandonment of weariness. He stood gazing down + upon her. Pale she looked to him, and thin and weary. The lines about her + mouth and eyes spoke of cares and of griefs, too. How much older she was + than he had thought! “Poor girl! she has been having a hard time! + It's a shame, a downright shame! And she's only a child yet!” At the + thought of her long sacrifice for those three past years a great pity + stole into his heart. At that touch of pity the love that had ever filled + his heart, dammed back for so long by his regard for his brother's rights, + suddenly finding its new channel, burst forth and swept like a torrent + through his being. He lost grip of himself and, before he knew, he had + bent over the sleeping girl and kissed her lips. A long shivering sigh + shook her. “Barney,” she murmured, a slight smile playing + about her lips. She opened her eyes. A moment she lay looking up into + Dick's face, then, suddenly wide awake, she sat upright. + </p> + <p> + “You! Dick!” she cried, surprise, indignation, shame, mingling + in her voice. “You—you dare to—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Margaret,” said Dick, aghast at what he had done, + “I couldn't help it. You looked so sweet and so sad, and—and I + love you so much.” + </p> + <p> + “You,” cried the girl again, as if she could find no other + word. “What did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “I said, Margaret,” he replied, gathering his courage + together, “that I love you so much.” + </p> + <p> + “You love me?” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I love you. I never knew till last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Last night?” she echoed, with her eyes upon his face, now + grown pale, but illuminated with a light she had never seen there before. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, last night. It was always there, Margaret,” he hurried + to say, “but only last night I found out I might love you. I never + let myself go. I thought I had no right. I mean I thought Barney—” + At the mention of his brother's name, the face that had been white with a + look almost of horror flamed quickly with red. “Last night,” + continued Dick, wondering at the change in her, “I found out, and + this morning, Margaret, the whole world is just humming with joy because I + know I may love you all I want to. Oh, it's great! I never imagined a + fellow could hold so much love or so much joy. Do you understand me, + Margaret? Do you knew what I am talking about?” Margaret's face had + grown pale and haggard, as with pain, and her eyes were wide open with + pity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Dick,” she said slowly, “I know. I have just been + learning.” The brave lips quivered, but she kept firm hold of + herself. “I know all the joy and—all the pain.” She + stopped short at the look in Dick's face. The buoyant, glad light + flickered and went out. A look of perplexity, of great fear, and then of + desolation, like that on her own face, spread over his. He knew her too + well to misunderstand her meaning. She leaned over to him, still kneeling + in the grass. “Oh, Dick, dear!” she cried, taking his hand in + hers with a mother-touch and tone, “must you suffer, too? Oh, don't + say you must! Not with my pain, Dick! Not with my pain!” Her voice + rose in a cry, broke into a sob, but still she held him with her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Do you say I must?” he answered in a hoarse tone. “I + love you with all my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't Dick, dear,” she pleaded, “don't say it!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I will,” he said, recovering his voice, “because + it's true. And I'm glad it's true. I'm glad that I can at last let myself + love you. It was only last night when Barney told me about Iola, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” she said hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “I had always thought that it was you, and I was glad to think so + for Barney. But last night”—here a quick flash of joy came + into his face at the memory—“I found out, and this morning I + could hardly help shouting it as I came along to you.” He paused, + and, leaning toward her, he took her hand. “Don't you think, + Margaret, you might perhaps some time.” The piteous entreaty in his + voice broke down the girl's proud courage. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dick! Oh, Dick!” she sobbed, “don't! Don't ask me!” + Her sobs came tempestuously. + </p> + <p> + He put his arms about her and, stroking her yellow hair, gently said, + “Never mind, little girl. Don't do that! I can't stand that, and—well, + I won't bother you a bit with my affair. Don't think about me. I'll get + hold of myself. There now—hush, hush, girlie. Don't cry like that!” + He held her close to him, caressing her till she grew quiet. + </p> + <p> + At length she drew away, saying, “I don't know why I should act like + this. I haven't cried for a year. I think I am tired. It has been a hard + winter, Dick. They used to play and sing together for hours. Oh, it was + wonderful music, but I could have shrieked aloud. Don't think me horrid,” + she went on hurriedly. “I wonder I am not ashamed to tell you. But I + never let anyone know, neither of them nor anyone else. Mind you that, + Dick, no one knows.” She sat up straight, her courage coming back. + “I never meant to tell you, Dick, but you know you took me unaware.” + A little smile was struggling to the corners of her mouth and a faint + flush touched her pale cheek. “But I am glad you know. And, Dick, + can't we go back? Won't you forget what you have said?” Dick had + been looking at her, wondering at her courage and self-command, but in his + eyes a look of misery that went to the girl's heart. + </p> + <p> + “Forget!” he cried. “Tell me how.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, and then, reading his eyes, she cried aloud, “Oh, + Dick! must we go on and on like this?” She pressed her hands hard + upon her heart. “There's a sore, sore pain right here,” she + said. “Is there to be no rest, no relief from it? It's been there + for two years.” She was fast losing her grip of herself again. Once + more he caught her in his strong brown hands. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Margaret dear, don't do that! We'll help each other somehow. + God—yes, God will help us if He takes any interest in us at all. He + can't let us go on like this!” + </p> + <p> + The words steadied her. + </p> + <p> + “I know, Dick,” she said, a sudden quiet falling upon her, + “there has been no one else for all these months, and He has helped + me. He will help you, too. Come,” she continued, “let us go.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sit down and talk,” replied Dick. He looked at his watch. + “A quarter after ten,” he said, in surprise. “Can the + whole world change in one little quarter of an hour?” he asked, + looking up at her, “it was ten when I stopped at the hill.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Dick,” she said again, “we'll talk another time, + I can't trust myself just now. I was going to your mother's.” + </p> + <p> + But Dick remained kneeling in the grass where he was. It seemed to him as + if he had been in some strange land remote from this common life, and he + shrank from contact with the ordinary day and its ordinary doings. + </p> + <p> + “I can't, Margaret,” he said. “You go. Let me fight it + out.” + </p> + <p> + She knew too well where he was. “No, Dick, I will not leave you + here. Come, do.” She went quickly to him, kneeled down, put her arms + about his neck and kissed him. “Help me, Dick,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + It was the word he needed. He threw his arms about her, kissed her once, + and then, as if seized with a frenzy of passion, he kissed, again and + again, her hair, her face, her hands, her lips, murmuring in hoarse, + passionate tones, “I love you! I love you!” For a few moments + she suffered him, and then gently pushed him back and drew apart from him. + Her action recalled him to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Margaret,” he cried brokenly, “I'm a great, + selfish brute. I think only of myself. Now I'm ready to go. And when I + weaken again, don't think me quite a cad.” + </p> + <p> + He sprang up, threw back his shoulders as if adjusting them to a load, + gave her his hand, and lifted her up, and together they set off down the + lane, the shadow a little lighter as each felt the other near. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X + </h2> + <h3> + FOR A LADY'S HONOUR + </h3> + <p> + “Are you going to Trinity convocation tomorrow?” asked Dr. + Bulling of Iola. + </p> + <p> + They were sitting in what Iola called her studio. A poor little room it + was, but suggesting in every detail the artistic taste of its occupant. + Its adornments, the luxurious arrangement of cushions in the cosey corner, + the prints upon the walls, and the books on the little table, spoke of a + pathetic attempt to reproduce the surroundings of luxurious art without + the large outlay that art demands. At one side of the room stood a piano + with music lying carelessly about. In another corner was Iola's guitar, + which she seldom used now except when intimate friends gathered for one of + the little suppers she loved to give. Then she took it up to sing the + mammy songs of her childhood. On the side opposite to that on which the + piano stood was a little fireplace. It was the fireplace that had + determined the choice of the room. + </p> + <p> + As Dr. Bulling asked his question Iola's lace lit up with a sudden + splendour. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “And why 'of course'?” inquired the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Why? Because a great friend of mine is to receive his degree and + his gold medal.” + </p> + <p> + “And who is that, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Boyle.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you know him? Clever chap, they say. Can't say I know him. Have + seen him a few times in the hospital with Trent. Struck me as rather + crude. From the country, some place, isn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Iola, with ever so slight a hesitation, “he + is from the country, where I met him five—yes, it is actually five—years + ago. So you see he is quite an old friend. And as for being crude, I think + you can hardly call him that. Of course, he is not one of society's + darlings, a patron of art, and a rising member of his profession as yet”—this + with a little bow to her visitor—“but some day he will be + great. And, besides, he is very nice.” + </p> + <p> + “Of that I have no doubt,” said the doctor, “seeing he + is a friend of yours. But how are you going? Some friends of mine are to + be there and will be glad to call for you.” The doctor could hardly + prevent a tone of condescension, almost of patronage, in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” said Iola, with just enough reserve in + her manner to make the doctor conscious of his tone, “but I am going + with friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Friends?” inquired the doctor. “And who, may I ask?” + There was an almost rude familiarity in his tone, but Iola only smiled at + him the more sweetly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very dear friends, and very old friends, and friends of Mr. + Boyle. In fact, his brother, a theological student, and a Miss Robertson. + I think you have met her. She is a nurse in the General Hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “Nurse Robertson?” said Bulling. “Oh, yes, I know her. + Pretty much of a saint, isn't she?” + </p> + <p> + “A saint?” cried Iola, for the first time throwing energy into + her voice. “Yes, a saint. But the best and sweetest and kindest and + jolliest girl I know.” + </p> + <p> + “I should hardly have called her jolly,” said the doctor, with + an air of dismissing her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she is!” cried Iola, enthusiastically, her large eyes + glowing eager enthusiasm. “You ought to have seen her at home. Why, + at sixteen years she took charge of her father's manse and the children in + the most wonderful way. Looked after me, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor girl!” murmured the doctor. “She had a handful, + sure enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you may say so. Then her father went on a trip to the old + country, and, to the surprise of everybody, brought back a new wife.” + </p> + <p> + “And put the girl's nose out of joint,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Well, hardly that. But there was no longer need for her at home, + and, on the whole, she felt better to be independent, and so here she has + been for the last two years. She shares my room when she is at home, which + is not often, and still takes care of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Most fortunate young lady she is,” murmured the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “So I am going with them,” continued Iola. + </p> + <p> + “Then I suppose nobody will see you.” The doctor's tone was + quite gloomy. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I love to see all my friends.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be the usual thing,” said the doctor, “the same + circle crowding you, the same impossibility of getting a word with you.” + </p> + <p> + “That depends on how much you—” cried Iola, throwing a + swift smile at him. + </p> + <p> + “How much I want to?” interrupted the doctor eagerly. “You + know quite well I—” + </p> + <p> + “How much time there is. You see, one can't be rude. One must speak + to all one's friends. But, of course, one can always plan one's time. How + ever,” she continued, “one can hardly expect to see much of + the very popular Dr. Bulling, whose attention is always so fully taken up.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, rot!” said the doctor. “I say, can't we get off a + little together? There are nice quiet nooks about the old building.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, doctor, how shocking!” But her eyes belied her voice, and + the doctor departed with the lively expectation of a very pleasant + convocation day at Trinity. + </p> + <p> + The convocation passed off with the usual uproar on the part of the + students and the usual long-suffering endurance on the part of the dean + and faculty and those who were fortunate, or unfortunate, enough to be the + orators of the day, the fervent enthusiasm of the undergraduate body + finding expression, now in college songs, whose chief characteristic was + the vigour with which they were rendered, personal remarks in the way of + encouragement, deprecation, pity, or gentle reproof to all who had to take + part in the public proceedings, and at intervals in wildly uproarious + applause and cheers at the mention of the name of some favourite. At no + point was the fervour greater than when Barney was called to receive his + medal. To the little group of friends at the left of the desk, consisting + of his brother, Margaret, and Iola, it seemed as if the cheering that + greeted Barney's name was almost worthy of the occasion. Dr. Trent + presented him, and as he spoke of the difficulties he had to contend with + in the early part of his course, of the perseverance and indomitable + courage the young man had shown, and the singular, indeed the very + remarkable, ability he had manifested in the special line of study for + which this medal was granted, the dead silence that pervaded the room was + even more eloquent than the tumult of cheers that followed Dr. Trent's + remarks and that continued until Barney had taken his place again among + the graduating class. + </p> + <p> + Then someone called out, “What's the matter with old Carbuncle?” + eliciting the usual vociferous reply, “He's all right!” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove,” said Dick to Margaret, who sat next him, “isn't + that great? And the old boy deserves it every bit!” But Margaret + made no reply. She was sitting with her eyes cast down, pale except for a + spot of red in each cheek. At Dick's words she glanced at him for a + moment, and he noticed that the large blue eyes were full of tears. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, little girl,” he whispered, giving her hand a + little pat. He dared say no more, for the sight of her face and the look + in her eyes set his own heart beating and gave him a choke in his throat. + </p> + <p> + On the other side of Margaret sat Iola, her face radiant with pride and + joy, and as Barney reached his seat, turning half around and in the face + of the whole company, she flashed him a look and a smile so full of pride + and love that it seemed to him at that moment as if all he had endured for + the last three years were quite worth while. + </p> + <p> + After the formal proceedings were over, Dr. Bulling made his way to the + little group about Barney. + </p> + <p> + “Congratulations, Boyle,” he said, in the somewhat patronizing + manner of a graduate of some years' standing to one who holds his + parchment in his hand and wears his still blushing honours as men wear new + clothes, “that was a remarkable fine reception you had to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Barney's brief word of acknowledgment showed his resentment of Bulling's + tone and his dislike of the man. It angered Barney to observe the + familiar, almost confidential, manner of Dr. Bulling with Iola, but it + made him more furious to notice that, instead of resenting, Iola seemed to + be pleased with his manner. Just now, however, she was giving herself to + Barney. Her pride in him, her joy in him, and her quiet appreciation of + him, were evident to all, so evident, indeed, that after a few words Dr. + Bulling took himself off. + </p> + <p> + “Brute!” said Barney as the doctor retired. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I am sure he seems very nice,” said Iola, raising her + eyebrows in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Nice!” said Barney contemptuously. “If you knew how the + men speak of him about town you wouldn't call him nice. He has money, and + he's in the swim, but he's a beast, all the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Barney, you mustn't say so!” cried Iola, “for you + know he's been a great friend to me. He has been very kind. I am quite + devoted to him.” Something in the tone of her voice, and more in the + smile which she gave Barney, took the sting out of her words. + </p> + <p> + Before many minutes had passed the little group was broken up, chiefly + because of the fact that Iola was soon surrounded by a circle of her own + admiring friends, and among them the most insistent was Dr. Bulling, who + finally, with bluff, good-natured but almost rude aggressiveness, carried + her off to the tearoom. It took all the joy out of the day for Barney, and + on his behalf, for Margaret and Dick, that for the rest of the afternoon + Iola's attention was entirely absorbed by Dr. Bulling and his little + coterie of friends. + </p> + <p> + And this feeling of disappointment in Iola and of resentment against Dr. + Bulling he carried with him to a little stag dinner by the hospital staff + at the Olympic that evening. The dinner was due chiefly to the exertions + of Dr. Trent, and was intended by him not only to bring into closer touch + with each other the members of the hospital staff, but also to be a kind + of introduction of Barney to the inner circle of medical men in the city. + For the past year Barney had acted as his clerk, almost as his assistant, + and, indeed, Dr. Trent had made the formal proposition of an assistantship + to him. Out of compliment to Barney, Dick had been invited, and young + Drake also, who owed his parchment that day to Barney's merciless grinding + in surgery, and perhaps more to his steadying friendship. Dr. Bulling, + who, more for his great wealth and his large social connection than for + his professional standing, had been invited, was present with Foxmore, + Smead, and others who followed him about applauding his coarse jokes and + accepting his favours. The dinner was purely informal in character, the + menu well chosen, the wines abundant, and the drinking hard enough with + some, with the result that as the dinner neared its end the men, and + especially the group about Bulling, became more and more hilarious. + Barney, who was drinking water and keeping his hand upon Drake's + wineglass, found his attention divided between his conversation with Trent + and the talk of Bulling, who, with his friends, sat across the table. As + this group became more boisterous, they absorbed to themselves the + attention of the whole company. Conscious of the prestige his wealth and + social position accorded him, and inflamed by the wine he was drinking, + Bulling became increasingly offensive. The talk degenerated. The stories + and songs became more and more coarse in tone. It was Barney's first + experience of a dinner of this kind, and it filled him with disgust and + horror. Even Trent, by no means inexperienced in these matters, was + disgusted with Bulling's tone. Following Barney's glances and aware of his + wandering attention, he was about to propose a breakup of the party when + he was arrested by a look of rigid and eager attention upon the face of + his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Disgusting brute!” said Trent, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + But Barney heeded him not. His attention was concentrated upon Bulling. He + had his glass in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Here's to the Lane!” he was saying, “the sweetest + little Lane in all the world!” + </p> + <p> + “She's divine!” replied Foxmore. “And what a voice! + She'll make Canada famous some day. Where did you discover her, Bulling?” + </p> + <p> + “In church,” replied Bulling solemnly, to the uproarious + delight of his followers. “That's right,” he continued, + “heard her sing, set things in motion, and now she's the leading + voice in the cathedral. Introduced her to a few people, and there she is, + the finest thing in her line in the city! Yes, and some day on the + continent! A dear, sweet little lane it is,” he continued in a tone + of affectionate proprietorship that made Barney grind his teeth in furious + rage. + </p> + <p> + “That she is,” said Smead enthusiastically, “and + thoroughly straight, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Foxmore, “there's no lane but has a turning. + And trust Bulling,” he added coarsely, “for finding it out.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Bulling, with a knowing smile, “this little + Lane is straight. Of course there may be a slight deflection. Nature's + lines run in curves, you know.” And again his wit provoked + applauding laughter. But before the laughter had quite faded out a voice + was heard, clear and cutting. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Bulling, you are a base liar!” The words were plainly + audible to every man in the room. A dead silence fell upon the company. + </p> + <p> + “What?” said the doctor, sitting up straight, as if he had not + heard aright. + </p> + <p> + “I say you are a cowardly liar!” + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “You have just made an insinuation against the honour of a young + lady. I say again you are a mean and cowardly liar. I want you to say so.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment or two Bulling's surprise kept him silent. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” said Trent. “Beastly cad!” + </p> + <p> + Then Dr. Bulling broke forth. “You impertinent young cub! What do + you mean?” + </p> + <p> + For answer, Barney seized Drake's wineglass, half full of wine, and flung + glass and contents full in Bulling's face. In an instant every man was on + his feet. Above the din rose Foxmore's voice. + </p> + <p> + “Give it to him Bulling! Give it to the young prig!” + </p> + <p> + “No hurry about this, boys,” said Bulling quietly; “I'll + make him eat his words before he's half an hour older.” + </p> + <p> + Meantime Dick was entreating his brother. “Let me at him. He's a + great knocker. Held the 'varsity championship. You don't know anything + about it. Let me at him, Barney. I can do him up.” Dick had been + 'varsity champion in his own time. But Barney put Dick aside with quiet, + stern words. + </p> + <p> + “Don't interfere, Dick. No matter what happens, don't interfere + to-night. I won't have it, Dick, remember. It may take us an hour or it + may take all night, but he'll say he lied before I'm through with him.” + </p> + <p> + Meantime the men, and chief among them Trent, were seeking to appease the + doctor and to patch up the peace. + </p> + <p> + “If he apologizes I shall let the young cub off,” were the + doctor's terms. + </p> + <p> + “If he says he lied,” was Barney's condition. + </p> + <p> + “Don't disturb yourselves, gentlemen,” said Bulling; “it + will not take more than two minutes, and then we can finish our smoke.” + </p> + <p> + The moment they stood facing each other Barney rushed, only to receive a + heavy blow which hurled him backward. It was plain he knew nothing of the + game. It was equally plain that the doctor was entirely master of it. + Again and again Barney rushed in wildly, the doctor easily blocking, + avoiding and sending in killing blows, till at length bloody, dazed, + panting, Barney had to lean against his friends to recover his wind and + strength. Opposite him, cool, smiling, and untouched, stood his adversary. + </p> + <p> + “This is easy, boys,” he smiled. “Now, you young + whipper-snapper,” he continued, addressing Barney, “perhaps + you've had enough. Let me tell you, it's time for you to quit fooling, or, + by the Eternal, I'll send you to sleep!” As he spoke he closed his + teeth with a savage snap. + </p> + <p> + “Will you say you're a liar?” said Barney, facing his opponent + again, and disregarding Dick's entreaties and warnings. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, quit it!” said the doctor contemptuously, “Come + along, you fool, if you must have it!” + </p> + <p> + Once more Barney rushed. As he did so Bulling stopped him with a heavy + left-hander on the face which sent him reeling backward, quickly following + with his right and again with a last terrific blow upon the jaw of his + dazed and reeling victim. Barney fell with a crash upon the floor, and lay + quiet. With a cry Dick sprang at Bulling, but half a dozen men pulled him + off. + </p> + <p> + “Let him come,” said Bulling, with a laugh, “I've a very + fine assortment of the same kind. Families supplied on reasonable terms.” + </p> + <p> + Meantime, while the men were struggling with Dick, Dr. Trent and Drake + were trying to revive poor Barney, bathing his face and hands. + </p> + <p> + “Stand back! Don't crowd about, men! Bring me a little brandy, + someone,” said Dr. Trent. “A more cowardly brute I've never + seen. You're a disgrace to the profession, Bulling.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thanks. I don't need your credentials, Trent,” said + Bulling cynically. + </p> + <p> + But Trent, ignoring him, devoted himself to Barney, who showed signs of + reviving. It was some minutes, however, before he could sit up. Meanwhile + Bulling with his friends retired to the lavatory. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Boyle,” said Treat, holding a glass to his lips as + Barney sat up, “a little more brandy and water.” + </p> + <p> + For a few moments after he drank the liquor Barney sat gazing stupidly + about. Then, as full consciousness returned, cried out, “Where is + he? He's not gone?” He seized the glass of brandy and water from Dr. + Treat's hands and drank it off. “Get me another,” he said. + “Is he gone?” he repeated, making an effort to rise. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Boyle, he's gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait till another day, Barney,” entreated Dick. “Never + mind to-night.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the sound of Dr. Bulling's voice, followed by loud + laughter, came from the lavatory. At once Barney stood up, walked to the + table, poured out a glass of brandy and drank it raw. For a minute he + stood stretching his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that's better,” he said, and started toward the lavatory, + but Dick clung to him. + </p> + <p> + “Barney, listen to me,” he entreated, his voice coming in + broken sobs. “He'll kill you. Let me take your place.” + </p> + <p> + “Dick, keep out of it,” said Barney. “Don't worry. He'll + hurt me no more, but he'll say it before I'm done.” And, throwing + off the restraining hands, he made his way into the lavatory. Dr. Bulling + was arranging his collar before a glass. As Barney entered he turned + around. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, Boyle,” he began, “but you brought it on + yourself, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Barney walked straight up to him. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't hear you say you are a liar.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” cried Bulling, “haven't you got enough. Be + thankful you're not killed. Go on! Get home! I don't run a butcher shop!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you say you're a liar and a cowardly liar?” + </p> + <p> + Barney's voice had in it the ring of cold steel. + </p> + <p> + “I say, boys,” said Bulling, appealing to the crowd, “keep + this fool off. I don't want to kill him.” + </p> + <p> + Foxmore, with some of the others, approached Barney. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Boyle, quit it,” said Foxmore. “There's no use, + you see.” He laid his hand on Barney's arm. + </p> + <p> + Barney put his hand against his breast, appearing to brush him aside, but + Foxmore touched nothing till he struck the wall ten feet away. + </p> + <p> + “Get back!” cried Barney, springing away from the men + approaching him. As he spoke, he seized a small oak dressing table by one + of its legs, swung it round his head, dashed it to pieces on the marble + floor, and, putting his foot upon the wreckage, with one mighty wrench had + the leg free in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “You men stand back,” he said in a low voice, “and don't + any of you interfere.” + </p> + <p> + Amazed at this exhibition of furious strength, the men started back to + their places, leaving a wide space about him. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” said Bulling, his face turning a shade pale, + “the man is mad! Call a policeman, some of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Drake, lock that door and bring me the key,” said Barney. + </p> + <p> + As Barney put the key in his pocket and turned again toward Bulling, the + latter's pallor increased. “I take you men to witness,” he + said, appealing to the company, “if murder is done I'm not + responsible. I'm defending my life. Remember, I'll strike to kill.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Dr. Bulling,” said Barney, handing his club to Drake, + “you won't strike at all. I've had my lesson. You'll strike me no + more. The boxing exhibition is over. This is a fight till you can fight no + more.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor's nerve was fast going. Barney stood cool, quiet, and terrible. + </p> + <p> + “I'll give you your chance once again,” he said. “Will + you say you are a cowardly liar?” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Bulling glanced at the group back of him, read pain in their faces, + hesitated a moment, then, pulling himself together, said, with an evident + effort at bluster, “Not by a —— sight! Come on! Take + your medicine!” But the lesson of the last half hour had not been + lost on Barney. Up and down the long room, circling about his man, + feinting to draw his attack, eluding, and again feinting, Barney kept his + antagonist in such rapid motion and so intensely on the alert that his + wind began to fail him, and it soon became evident that he could not stand + the pace for very long. + </p> + <p> + “You've got him!” cried Dick, in an ecstasy of expectation. + “Keep it up, Barney! That's the game! You'll have him in five + minutes more!” + </p> + <p> + “Quite evident,” echoed Dr. Trent quietly, hugely enjoying the + change in the situation. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Bulling heard the words. His pallor deepened. Red blotches began to + appear on his cheek. The sweat stood out upon his forehead. His breath + came in short gasps. He knew he could not last much longer. His only hope + lay in immediate attack. He must finish off his man within the next minute + or accept defeat. Nature was now taking revenge upon him for his long + outraging of her laws. Barney, on the other hand, though bruised and + battered about the face, was stepping about easily and lightly, without + any sign of the terrible punishment he had suffered. Reading his + opponent's face he knew that the moment for a supreme effort had arrived, + and waited for his plan to develop. There was only one thing for Bulling + to do. Edging his opponent toward the corner and summoning his fast + failing strength for a final attack, he forced him hard back into the + angle of the wall. He had him now. One clean blow and all would be over. + </p> + <p> + “Look out, Barney!” yelled Dick. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, as if shot from a steel spring, Barney crouched low and leaped + at his man, and disregarding two heavy blows, thrust one long arm forward + and with his sinewy fingers gripped his enemy's throat. “Ha!” + he cried with savage exultation, holding off his foe at arm's length. + “Now! Now! Now!” As he uttered each word between his clenched + teeth he shook the gasping, choking wretch as a dog shakes a rat. In vain + his victim struggled to get free, now striking wild and futile blows, now + clutching and clawing at those terrible gripping fingers. His face grew + purple; his tongue protruded; his breath came in rasping gasps; his hands + fell to his side. “Keep your hands so,” hissed Barney, + loosening his grip to give him air. “Ha! would you? Don't you move!” + gripping him hard again. “There!” loosening once more, “now, + are you a liar? Speak quick!” The blue lips made an attempt at the + affirmation of which the head made the sign. “Say it again. Are you + a liar?” Once more the head nodded and the lips attempted to speak. + “Yes,” said Barney, still through his clenched teeth, “you + are a cowardly liar!” The words came forth with terrible + deliberation. “I could kill you with my hands as you stand. But I + won't, you cur! I'll just do this.” As he spoke he once more + tightened his grip upon the throat and swung his open hand on the livid + cheek. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, Boyle,” cried Foxmore, “let up! That's + enough!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's enough,” said Barney, flinging the semi-conscious + man on the floor, “it's enough for him. Foxmore, you laughed, I + think, when he uttered that lie,” he said in a voice smooth, almost + sweet, but that chilled the hearts of the hearers, “you laughed. You + were a beastly cad, weren't you? Speak!” + </p> + <p> + “What? I—I—” gasped Foxmore, backing into the + corner. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, quick!” cried Barney, stepping lightly toward him on + his toes, “say it quick!” His fingers were working + convulsively. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I was!” cried Foxmore, backing further away behind + the others. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” cried Barney, his voice rising hoarse, “you would + all of you laugh at that brute ruin the name and honour of a lonely girl!” + He walked up and down before the group which stood huddled in the corner + in abject terror, more like a wild beast than a man. “You're not fit + to live! You're beasts of prey! No decent girl is safe from you!” + His voice rose loud and thin and harsh. He was fast losing hold of + himself. His ghastly face, bloody and horribly disfigured, made an + appalling setting for his blazing eyes. Nearer and nearer the crowd he + walked, gnashing and grinding his teeth till the foam fell from his lips. + The wild fury of his Highland ancestors was turning him into a wild beast + with a wild beast's lust of blood. Further and further back cowered the + group without a word, so utterly panic-stricken were they. + </p> + <p> + “Barney,” said Dick quietly, “come home.” He + stopped short, with a mighty effort recalling his reason. For a few + moments he stood silent looking at the floor, then, raising his eyes, he + let them rest upon the doctor, who was leaning against the wall, and, + without a word, turned and slowly passed out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Gad!” said Foxmore, with a horrible gasp of relief, “if + the devil looks like that I never want to see him.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI + </h2> + <h3> + IOLA'S CHOICE + </h3> + <p> + Iola was undoubtedly pleased; her lips parting in a half smile, her eyes + shining through half-closed lids, her whole face glowing with a warm light + proclaimed the joy in her heart. The morning letters lay on her table. She + sat some moments holding one which she had opened, while she gazed + dreamily out through the branches of the big elms that overshadowed her + window. She would not move lest the dream should break and vanish. As she + lay back in her chair looking out upon the moving leaves and waving + boughs, she allowed the past to come back to her. How far away seemed the + golden days of her Southern childhood. Almost her first recollection of + sorrow, certainly the first that made any deep impression upon her heart, + was when the men carried out her father in a black box and when, leaving + the big house with the wide pillared veranda, she was taken to the chilly + North. How terribly vivid was the memory of her miserable girlhood, + poverty pressed and loveless, her soul beating like a caged bird against + the bars of the cold and rigid discipline of her aunt's well-ordered home. + Then came the first glad freedom from dependence when first she undertook + to earn her own bread as a teacher. Freedom and love came to her together, + freedom and love and friendship in the Manse and the Old Stone Mill. With + the memory of the Mill, there rose before her, clear-limned and vividly + real, one face, rugged, strong, and passionate, and the thought of him + brought a warmer light to her eyes and a stronger beat to her heart. Every + feature of the moonlight scene on the night of the barn-raising when first + she saw him stood out with startling distinctness, the new skeleton of the + barn gleaming bony and bare against the sky, the dusky forms crowding + about, and, sitting upon a barrel across the open moonlit space of the + barn floor, the dark-faced lad playing his violin and listening while she + sang. At that point it was that life for her began. + </p> + <p> + A new scene passed before her eyes. It was the Manse parlour, the music + professor with dirty, claw-like fingers but face alight with rapturous + delight playing for her while she sang her first great oratorio aria. She + could feel to-day that mysterious thrill in the dawning sense of new + powers as the old man, with his hands upon her shoulders, cried in his + trembling, broken voice, “My dear young lady, the world will listen + to you some day!” That was the beginning of her great ambition. That + day she began to look for the time when the world would come to listen. + Then followed weary days and weeks and months and years, weary with + self-denials new to her and with painful struggling with unmusical pupils, + for she needed bread; weary with heart-breaking strivings and failings in + the practice of her art, but, worst of all, weary to heart-break with the + patronage of the rich and flattering friends—how she loathed it—of + whom Dr. Bulling was the most insistent and the most objectionable. And + then this last campaign, with its plans and schemes for a place in the + great Philharmonic which would at once insure not only her standing in the + city, but a New York engagement as well. And now the moment of triumph had + arrived. The letter she held in her hand was proof of it. She glanced once + more at the written page, her eye falling upon a phrase here and there, + “We have succeeded at last—the Duff Charringtons have + surrendered—you only want a chance—here it is—you can do + the part well.” She smiled a little. Yes, she knew she could do the + part. “And now let nothing or nobody prevent you from accepting Mrs. + Duff Charrington's invitation for next Saturday. It is a beautiful yacht + and well found, and I am confident the great lady will be gracious—bring + your guitar with you, and if you will only be kind, I foresee two golden + days in store for me.” She allowed a smile slightly sarcastic to + curl her lips. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor is inclined to be poetical. Well, we shall see. + Saturday? That means Sunday spent on board the yacht. I wish they had it + made another day. Margaret won't like it, and Barney won't either.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment or two she allowed her mind to go back to the Sundays spent + in the Manse. She had never known the meaning of the day before. The utter + difference in feeling, in atmosphere, between that day and the other days + of the week, the subduing quiet, the soothing peace, and the sense of + sacredness that pervaded life on that day, made the Sabbaths in the Manse + like blessed isles of rest in the sea of time. Never, since her two years + spent there, had she been able to get quite away from the sense of + obligation to make the day differ from the ordinary days of the week. No, + she was sure Barney would not like it. Still, she could spend its hours + quietly enough upon the yacht. + </p> + <p> + She picked up another letter in a large square envelope, the address + written in bold characters. “This is the Duff Charrington + invitation, I suppose,” she said, opening the letter. “Well, + she does it nicely, at any rate, even if, as Dr. Bulling suggests, + somewhat against her inclination.” + </p> + <p> + Again she sat back in silent dreaming, her eyes looking far away down the + coming years of triumph. Surely enough, the big world was drawing near to + listen. All she had read of the great queens of song, Patti, Nilsson, + Rosa, Trebelli, Sterling, crowded in upon her mind, their regal courts + thronged by the great and rich of every land, their country seats, their + luxurious lives. At last her foot was in the path. It only remained for + her to press forward. Work? She well knew how hard must be her daily lot. + Yes, but that lesson she had learned, and thoroughly well, during these + past years, how to work long hours, to deny herself the things her + luxurious soul longed for, and, hardest of all, to bear with and smile at + those she detested. All these she would endure a little longer. The days + were coming when she would have her desire and do her will. + </p> + <p> + She glanced at the other letters upon the table. “Barney,” she + cried, seizing one. An odd compunction struck into her heart. “Barney, + poor old boy!” A sudden thought stayed her hand from opening the + letter. Where had Barney been in this picture of the future years upon + which she had been feasting her soul? Aghast, she realized that, amid its + splendid triumphs, Barney had not appeared. “Of course, he'll be + there,” she murmured somewhat impatiently. But how and in what + capacity she could not quite see. Some prima donnas had husbands, mere + shadowy appendages to their courts. Others there were who found their + husbands most useful as financial agents, business managers, or upper + servants. Iola smiled a proud little smile. Barney would not do for any of + these discreetly shadowy, conveniently colourless or more useful husbands. + Would he be her husband? A warm glow came into her eyes and a flush upon + her cheek. Her husband? Yes, surely, but not for a time. For some years + she must be free to study, and—well, it was better to be free till + she had made her name and her place in the world. Then when she had + settled down Barney would come to her. + </p> + <p> + But how would Barney accept her programme? Sure as she was of his great + love, and with all her love for him, she was a little afraid of him. He + was so strong, so silently immovable. Often in the past three years she + had made trial of that immovable strength, seeking to draw him away from + his work to some social engagement, to her so important, to him so + incidental. She had always failed. His work absorbed him as her art had + her, but with a difference. With Barney, work was his reward; with her, a + means to it. To gain some further knowledge, to teach his fingers some + finer skill, that was enough for Barney. Iola wrought at her long tasks + and practised her unusual self-denials with her eye upon the public. Her + reward would come when she had brought the world, listening, to her feet. + Seized in the thrall of his work, Barney grimly held to it, come what + might. No such absorbing passion possessed Iola. And Iola, while she was + provoked by what she called his stubbornness, was yet secretly proud of + that silently resisting strength she could neither shake nor break. No, + Barney was not fitted for the role of the shadowy, pliant, convenient + husband. + </p> + <p> + What, then, in her plan of life would be his place? It startled her to + discover that her plan had been complete without him. Complete? Ah, no. + Her life without Barney would be like a house without its back wall. + During these years of study and toil, while Barney could only give her + snatches of his time, she had come to feel with increasing strength that + her life was built round about him. When others had been applauding her + successes, she waited for Barney's word; and though beside the clever, + brilliant men that moved in the circle into which her art had brought her + he might appear awkward and dull, yet it was Barney who continued to be + the standard by which she judged men. With all his need of polish, his + poverty of small talk, his hopeless ignorance of the conventions, and his + obvious disregard of them, the massive strength of him, his fine sense of + honour, his chivalrous bearing toward women, added a touch of reverence to + the love she bore him. But more than all, it was to Barney her heart + turned for its rest. She knew well that she held in all its depth and + strength his heart's love. He would never fail her. She could not exhaust + that deep well. But the question returned, where would Barney be while she + was being conducted by acclaiming multitudes along her triumphal way? + “Oh, he will wait—we will wait,” she corrected, + shrinking from the heartlessness of the former phrasing. How many years + she could not say. But deep in her heart was the determination that + nothing should stand in the way of the ambition she had so long cherished + and for which she had so greatly endured. + </p> + <p> + She opened the note with lingering deliberation as one dallies with an + approaching delight. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR IOLA: I have always told you the truth. I could not see you + last evening, nor can I to-day, and perhaps not for a day or two, because + my face is disfigured. These are the facts: At the dinner, night before + last, Dr. Bulling lied about you. I made him swallow his lie and in the + process got rather badly marked, though not at all hurt. The doctor and + his friends will, I think, guard their tongues in future, at least in my + hearing. Dr. Bulling is a man of vile mind and of unclean life. He should + not be allowed to appear with decent people. I have written to forbid him + ever approaching you in public. You will know how to treat him if he + attempts it. This will be a most disgusting business to you. I hate to + make you suffer, but it had to be done, and by no one but me. Would I + could bear it all for you, my darling. The patronage of these people, I + mean Dr. Bulling's set, cannot, surely, be necessary to your success. Your + great voice needs not their patronage; if so, failure would be better. + When I am fit for your presence I shall come to you. Good-bye. It is hard + not to see you. Ever yours, + </p> + <p> + “Barney.” + </p> + <p> + Alas! for her dreams. How rudely they were dispelled! Alas! for her castle + in Spain. Already it was tottering to ruin, and by Barney's hand. She read + the note hurriedly again. + </p> + <p> + “He wants me to break with Dr. Bulling.” She recalled a + sentence in the doctor's letter. “Let no one or nothing keep you + from accepting this invitation.” “He's afraid Barney will keep + me back. Nonsense! How stupid of Barney! He is so terribly particular! He + doesn't understand these things. There has been a horrid row of some kind + and now he asks me to cut Dr. Bulling!” She glanced at Barney's + letter. “Well, he doesn't ask me, but it's all the same—'you + will know how to treat him.' He's too proud to ask me, but he expects me + to. It would be sheer madness! Wouldn't the Duff Charrington's and Evelyn + Redd be delighted! It is preposterous! I must go! I shall go!” + </p> + <p> + Rarely did Iola allow herself the luxury of a downright burst of passion. + With her, it was hardly ever worth while to be seriously angry. It was so + much easier to avoid straight issues. But to-day there was no avoiding. + She surprised herself with a storm of indignant rage so heart-shaking that + after it had passed she was thankful she had been alone. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with me?” she asked herself. She did not + know that the whole volume of her ambition, which had absorbed so great a + part of her life, had come, in all its might, against the massive rock of + Barney's will. He would never yield, she knew well. “What shall I + do?” she cried aloud, beginning to pace the room. “Margaret + will tell me. No, she would be sure to side with Barney. She would think + it was wicked to go on Sunday, anyway, and, besides, she has Barney's + rigid notions about things. I wish I could see Dick. Dick will understand. + He has seen more of this life and—oh, he's not so terribly + hidebound. And I'll get Dick to see Barney.” She would not + acknowledge that she was grateful that Barney could not come to see her, + but she could write him a note and she could send Dick to him, and in the + meantime she would accept the invitation. “I will accept at once. I + wish I had before I read Barney's note. I really had accepted in my mind, + and, besides, the arrangements were all made. I'll write the letters now.” + She hastened to burn her bridges behind her so that retreat might be + impossible. “There,” she cried, as she sealed, addressed, and + stamped the letters, “I wish they were in the box. I'm awfully + afraid I'll change. But I can't change! I cannot let this chance go! I + have worked too long and too hard! Barney should not ask it!” A wave + of self-pity swept over her, bringing her temporary comfort. Surely Barney + would not cause her pain, would not force her to give up her great + opportunity. She sought to prolong this mood. She pictured herself a + forlorn maiden in distress whom it was Barney's duty and privilege to + rescue. “I'll just go and post these now,” she said. Hastily + she put on her hat and ran down with the letters, fearing lest the passing + of her self-pity might leave her to face again the thought of Barney's + inevitable and immovable opposition. + </p> + <p> + “There, that's done,” she said to herself, as the lid of the + post box clicked upon her letters. “Oh, I wonder—I wish I + hadn't!” What she had feared had come to pass. She had committed + herself, and now her self-pity had evaporated and left her face to face + with the inevitable results. With terrible clearness she saw Barney's + dark, rugged face with the deep-seeing eyes. “He always makes you + feel in the wrong,” she said impatiently. “You can never think + what to say. He always seems right, and,” she added honestly, + “he is right generally. Never mind, Dick will help me.” She + shook off her load and ran on. At her door she met Dr. Foxmore. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, good-morning,” smiled the doctor, showing a double row of + white teeth under his waxed mustache. “And how does the fair Miss + Lane find herself this fine morning?” + </p> + <p> + It took the whole force of Iola's self-mastery to keep the disgust which + was swelling her heart from showing in her face. Here was one of Dr. + Bulling's friends, one of his toadies—and he had a number of them—who + represented to her all that was most loathsome in her life. The effort to + repress her disgust, however, only made her smile the sweeter. Foxmore was + greatly encouraged. It was one of his fixed ideas that his manner was + irresistible with “the sex.” Bulling might hold over him, by + reason of his wealth and social position, but give him a fair field + without handicap and see who would win out! + </p> + <p> + “I was about to do myself the honour and the pleasure of calling + upon you this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed. Well—ah—come in.” Iola was fighting + fiercely her loathing of him. It was against this man and his friends that + Barney had defended her name. She led the way to her studio, ignoring the + silly chatter of the man following her upstairs, and by the time he had + fairly got himself seated she was coolly master of herself. + </p> + <p> + “Just ran in to give you the great news.” + </p> + <p> + “To wit?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, don't you know? The Philharmonic thing is settled. You've got + it.” + </p> + <p> + Iola looked blank. + </p> + <p> + “Why, haven't you heard that the Duff Charringtons have surrendered?” + Iola recognized Dr. Bulling's words. + </p> + <p> + “Surrendered? Just what, exactly?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, d-dash it all! You know the big fight that has been going on, + the Duff Charringtons backing that little Redd girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! So the Duff Charringtons have been backing the little Redd + girl? Miss Evelyn Redd, I suppose? It sounds a little like a horse race or + a pugilistic encounter.” + </p> + <p> + “A horse race!” he exclaimed. “Ha, ha, ha! A horse race + isn't in it with this! But Bulling pulled the wires and you've got it.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is extremely interesting. I was not aware that the + soloists were chosen for any other reason than that of merit.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of herself Iola had adopted a cool and somewhat lofty manner. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, certainly on merit, of course. But you know how these + things go.” Dr. Foxmore was beginning to feel uncomfortable. The + lofty air of this struggling, as yet unrecognized, country girl was both + baffling and exasperating. “Oh, come, Miss Lane,” he + continued, making a desperate effort to recover his patronizing tone, + “you know just what we all think of your ability.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of it?” Iola's tone was calmly curious. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I think—well—I know you can do the work infinitely + better than Evelyn Redd.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you heard Miss Redd in oratorio? I know you have never heard + me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, can't say I have; but I know your voice and your style and I'm + confident it will suit the part.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you so much,” said Iola sweetly; “I am so sorry + that Dr. Bulling should have given so much time, and he is such a busy + man.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's nothing,” waved Dr. Foxmore, recovering his + self-esteem, “we enjoyed it.” + </p> + <p> + “How nice of you! And you were pulling wires, too, Dr. Foxmore?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well, we did a little work in a quiet way,” replied the + doctor, falling into his best professional tone. + </p> + <p> + “And this yachting party, I suppose Dr. Bulling and you worked that, + too? Really, Dr. Foxmore, you have no idea what a relief it is to have + one's affairs taken charge of in this way. It quite saves one the trouble + of making up one's mind. Indeed, one hardly needs a mind at all.” + Iola's face and smile were those of innocent childhood. Dr. Foxmore shot a + suspicious glance at her and hastened to change the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you will go next Saturday, will you not?” + </p> + <p> + “I am really a little uncertain at present,” replied Iola. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you must, you know! Mrs. Duff Charrington will be awfully cut + up, not to speak of Bulling. He had no end of trouble to bring it off.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean, to persuade Mrs. Duff Charrington to invite me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” said the doctor, plunging wildly, “I + wouldn't put it that way. But the whole question of the Philharmonic was + involved, and this invitation was a flag of truce, as it were.” + </p> + <p> + “Your metaphors certainly have a warlike flavour, Dr. Foxmore; I + cannot pretend to follow the workings of your mind. But seeing that this + invitation has been secured at the expense of such effort on the part of + Dr. Bulling and yourself, I rather think I shall decline it.” In + spite of all she could do, Iola could not keep out of her voice a slightly + haughty tone. Dr. Foxmore's sense of superiority was fast deserting him. + “And as to the Philharmonic solos,” continued Iola, “if + the directors see fit to make me an offer of the part I shall consider it.” + </p> + <p> + “Consider it!” gasped Dr. Foxmore. It was time this young girl + with her absurd pretensions were given to understand the magnitude of the + favour that Dr. Bulling and himself were seeking to confer upon her. He + became brutal. “Well, all I say is that if you know when you are + well off, you'll take this chance.” + </p> + <p> + Iola rose with easy grace and stood erect her full height. Dr. Foxmore had + not thought her so tall. Her face was a shade paler than usual, her eyes a + little wider open, but her voice was as smooth as ever, and with just a + little ring as of steel in it she inquired, “Did you come here this + morning to make this threat, Dr. Foxmore?” + </p> + <p> + “I came,” he said bluntly, “to let you know your good + fortune and to warn you not to allow any of your friends to persuade you + against your own best interests.” + </p> + <p> + “My friends?” Iola threw her head slightly backward and her + tone became frankly haughty. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know your friends, and especially—I may as well be + plain—that young medical student, Boyle, don't like Dr. Bulling, and + might persuade you against this yacht trip.” + </p> + <p> + Iola was furiously aware that her face was aflame, but she stood without + speaking for a few moments till she was sure her voice was steady. + </p> + <p> + “My FRIENDS would never presume to interfere with my choosing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, they presume, or at least that young Boyle presumed, to + interfere once too often for his own good. But he'll probably be more + careful in future.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Boyle is a gentleman in whom I have the fullest confidence. He + would do what he thought right.” + </p> + <p> + “He will probably correct his judgments before he interferes with + Dr. Bulling again.” The doctor's tone was insolently sarcastic. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Bulling?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He was grossly insulting and Dr. Bulling was forced to + chastise him.” + </p> + <p> + “Chastise! Mr. Boyle!” cried Iola, her anger throwing her off + her guard. “That is quite impossible, Dr. Foxmore! That could not + happen!” + </p> + <p> + “But I am telling you it did! I was present and saw it. It was this + way—” + </p> + <p> + Iola put up her hand imperiously. “Dr. Foxmore,” she said, + recovering her self-command, “there is no need of words. I tell you + it is quite impossible! It is quite impossible!” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Foxmore's face flushed a deep red. He flung aside the remaining shreds + of decency in speech. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to call me a liar?” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Dr. Foxmore, would you also chastise me as well?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor stood in helpless rage looking at the calm, smiling face. + </p> + <p> + “I was a fool to come!” he blurted. + </p> + <p> + “I would not presume to contradict you, nor to stand in the way of + returning wisdom.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor swore a great oath under his breath and without further words + strode from the room. + </p> + <p> + Iola stood erect and silent till he had disappeared through the open door. + “Oh!” she breathed, her hands fiercely clenched, “if I + were a man what a joy it would be just now!” She shut the door and + sat down to think. “I wonder what did happen? I must see Dick at + once. He'll tell me. Oh, it is all horribly loathsome!” For the + first time she saw herself from Dr. Bulling's point of view. If she sang + in the Philharmonic it would be by virtue of his good offices and by the + gracious permission of the Duff Charringtons. That she had the voice for + the part and that it was immeasurably better than Evelyn Redd's counted + not at all. How mean she felt! And yet she must go on with it. She would + not allow anything to stand in the way of her success. This was the first + firm stepping-stone in her climb to fame. Once this was taken, she would + be independent of Bulling and his hateful associates. She would go on this + yacht trip. She need not have anything to do with Dr. Bulling, nor would + she, for Barney would undoubtedly be hurt and angry. It looked terribly + like disloyalty to him to associate herself on terms of friendship with + the man who had beaten him so cruelly. Oh, how she hated herself! But she + could not give up her chance. She would explain to Barney how helpless she + was and she would send Dick to him. He would listen to Dick. + </p> + <p> + Poor Iola! Without knowing it, she was standing at the cross roads making + choice of a path that was to lead her far from the faith, the ideals, the + friends she now held most dear. Through all her years she had been + preparing herself for this hour of choice. With her, to desire greatly was + to bend her energies to attain. She would deeply wound the man who loved + her better than his own life; but the moment of choice found her helpless + in the grip of her ambition. And so her choice was made. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII + </h2> + <h3> + HE THAT LOVETH HIS LIFE + </h3> + <p> + Mrs. Duff Charrington at close range was not nearly so formidable as when + seen at a distance. The huge bulk of her, the pronouncedly masculine dress + and manner, the loud voice, the red face with its dark mustache line on + the upper lip, all of which at a distance were calculated to overawe if + not to strike terror to the heart of the beholder, were very considerably + softened by the shrewd, kindly twinkle of the keen grey eyes which a + nearer view revealed. Her welcome of Iola was bluff and hearty, but she + was much too busy ordering her forces and disposing of her impedimenta, + for she was her own commodore, to pay particular attention in the meantime + to her guests. The wharf at which the Petrel was tied was crowded this + Saturday afternoon with various parties of excursionists making for the + steamers, ferries, yachts, and other craft that lay along the water front. + Already the Petrel had hoisted her mainsail and, under the gentle breeze, + was straining upon her shore lines awaiting the word to cast off. As Iola + stood idly gazing at the shifting scene, wondering how Dick had succeeded + on his mission to his brother, she observed Dr. Bulling approaching with + his usual smiling assurance. Just as he was about to speak, however, she + noticed him start and gaze fixedly toward the farther side of the wharf. + Iola's eye, following his gaze, fell upon the figure of a man pushing his + way through the crowd. It was Barney. She saw him pause, evidently to make + inquiry of a dockhand. With a muttered oath, Bulling sprang to the aft + line. + </p> + <p> + “Let go that line, Murdoff!” he shouted to the man at the bow. + “Look lively, there!” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke he cast off the stern line and seized the wheel, making it + imperative that Murdoff should execute his command in the liveliest + manner. At once the yacht swung out and began to put a space of blue water + between herself and the dock. She was not a moment too soon, for Barney, + having received his direction, was coming at a run, scattering the crowd + to right and left. As he arrived at the dock edge he caught sight of Iola + and Dr. Bulling. He took a step backwards and made as if to attempt the + spring. Iola's cry, “Don't, Barney!” arrested Mrs. Duff + Charrington's attention. + </p> + <p> + “What's up?” she shouted. “How's this? We're off! + Bulling, what the deuce—who gave orders?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Duff Charrington for once in her life was, as she would have said + herself, completely flabbergasted. At a single glance she took in the + white face of Iola, and that of Dr. Bulling, no less white. + </p> + <p> + “What's up?” she cried again. “Have you seen a ghost, + Miss Lane? You, too, Bulling?” She glanced back at the clock. + “There's someone left behind! Who is that young man, Daisy? Why, + it's our medallist, isn't it? Do you know him, Bulling? Shall we go back + for him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! For Heaven's sake, no! He's a madman, quite!” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Dr. Bulling,” said Iola, her voice ringing clear + and firm in contrast with Bulling's agitated tone, “he is a friend + of mine, a very dear friend, and, I assure you, very sane.” As she + spoke she waved her hand to Barney, but there was no answering sign. + </p> + <p> + “Your friend, is he?” said Mrs. Duff Charrington. “Then + doubtless very sane. Does he want you, Miss Lane? Shall we go back for + him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he doesn't want me,” said Iola. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Charrington,” said Dr. Bulling, “he has a grudge + against me because of a fancied insult.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Mrs. Duff Charrington, “I understand. What do + you say, Miss Lane? We can easily go back.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, let us not talk about it, Mrs. Charrington,” said Iola + hurriedly; “he is gone.” + </p> + <p> + “As you wish, my dear. Daisy, take Dr. Bulling down to the cabin. I + declare he looks as if he needed bracing up. I shall take the wheel.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Charrington,” said Iola in a low voice, as Bulling + disappeared down the companionway, “that was Mr. Boyle, my friend, + and I want you to think him a man of the highest honour. But he doesn't + like Dr. Bulling. He doesn't trust him.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, my dear,” said Mrs. Charrington brusquely, “don't + trouble yourself about him. I haven't lived fifty years for nothing. Oh! + these men, these men! They take themselves too seriously, the dear + creatures. But they are just like ourselves, with a little more conceit + and considerably less wit. And they are not really worth all the trouble + we take for them. I must get to know your medallist, my dear. That was a + strong face and an honest face. I have heard John rave about him. John is + my young son, first year in medicine. His judgment, I confess, is not + altogether reliable—worships brawn, and there are traditions afloat + as to that young man's doings when they were initiating him. But I have no + doubt that, however sane on other subjects, he is quite mad about you, + and, hang me! if I can wonder. If I were a young man I'd get my arms round + you as soon as possible.” + </p> + <p> + As she chattered along, Iola found her heart warm to Mrs. Duff + Charrington, who, with all her sporty manners and masculine ways, was an + honest soul, with a shrewd wit and a kindly heart. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad now I came,” said Iola gratefully; “I was + afraid you weren't—” She paused abruptly in confusion. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm not so bad as I'm painted, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear Mrs. Charrington, it was not you I was afraid of, it was + what Dr. Bulling—” Again Iola hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Don't bother telling me,” said Mrs. Duff Charrington, + observing her confusion. “No doubt Bulling gave you to understand + that he worked me to invite you. Confess now.” There was a shrewd + twinkle in her keen grey eye. “Bulling is a liar, a terrible liar, + with large possibilities of self-appreciation. But he had nothing to do + with this invitation, though he flatters himself he had. He's not without + ability, but he can't teach his grandmother to suck eggs. I'll tell you + why you are here. I pride myself upon having an eye for a winner, and I + pick you as one, and that's why you are to sing in the Philharmonic. + Evelyn Redd has a pretty voice. She is a niece of a very dear friend, and + for a time I thought she might do. But she has no soul, no passion, and + music, like a man, must have passion. Music without passion is a crime + against art. So I just told Duff, he's chairman, you know, of the Board of + Directors, that she was impossible and that we must have you. I have heard + you sing, my dear, and I know the singer's face and the singer's throat + and eye. You have them all. You have the voice and the temperament and the + passion. You'll be great some day, much greater than I, and, with the hope + of sharing your glory, I have decided to put my money on you.” + </p> + <p> + Iola murmured some words of thanks, not knowing just what to say, but Mrs. + Duff Charrington waved them aside. + </p> + <p> + “Purely selfish,” she said, “purely selfish, my dear. + Now don't let Bulling worry you. I pick him for a winner, too. He has + force. He'll be a power in the country. Inclines to politics. He's a kind + of brute, of course, but he'll succeed, for he has wealth and social + prestige, neither to be sniffed at, my child. But, especially, he has + driving power. But I'll have my eye on him this trip, so enjoy your + outing.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Duff Charrington was as good as her word. She knew nothing of the + finesse of diplomacy in the manipulation of her company. Her method was + straightforward dragooning. Observing the persistent attempts of Dr. + Bulling during the early part of the trip to secure Iola for a + tete-a-tete, she called out across the deck in the ears of the whole + company, “See here, Bulling, I won't have you trying to monopolise + our star. We're out for a good time and we're going to have it. Miss Lane + is not your property. She belongs to us all.” Thenceforth Dr. + Bulling, with what grace he could summon, had to content himself with just + so much of Iola's company as his hostess decided he should have. + </p> + <p> + It was Iola's first experience of yachting, and it brought her a series of + sensations altogether new and delightful. As the yacht skimmed, like a + great white-winged bird, over the blue waters of Ontario, the humming + breeze, the swift rush through the parting waves, the sense of buoyant + life with which the yacht seemed to be endowed made her blood jump. She + abandoned herself to the joys of the hour and became the life and soul of + the whole party. And were it not for Barney's haunting face, the two days' + outing would have been for Iola among the happiest experiences of her + life. But Barney's last look across the widening strip of water pursued + her and filled her with foreboding. It was not rage; it was more terrible + than rage. Iola shuddered as she recalled it. She read in it the despair + of renunciation. She dreaded meeting him again, and as the end of her trip + drew near her dread increased. + </p> + <p> + Nor did Mrs. Duff Charrington, who had become warmly interested in the + girl during the short voyage, fail to observe her uneasiness and to guess + the cause. Foremost among the crowd awaiting them at the dock, Iola + detected Barney. + </p> + <p> + “There he is,” she cried under her breath. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Mrs. Duff Charrington, who was at her side, + “it is not possible that you are afraid, and of a man! I would give + something to have that feeling. It is many years since a man could inspire + me with any feeling but that of contempt or of kind pity. They are really + silly creatures and most helpless. Let me manage him. Introduce him to me + and leave him alone.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Duff Charrington's confidence in her superior powers was more than + justified. Through the crowd and straight for Iola came Barney, his face + haggard with two sleepless nights. By a clever manoeuvre Mrs. Duff + Charrington swung her massive form fair in his path and, turning suddenly, + faced him squarely. Iola seized the moment to present him. Barney made as + if to brush her aside, but Mrs. Duff Charrington was not of the kind to be + lightly brushed aside by anyone, much less by a young man of Barney's + inexperience. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, young man,” she exclaimed, “I think I have seen you + before.” The strong grip of her hand and the loud tone of her voice + at once arrested his progress and commanded his attention. “I saw + you get your medal the other day, and I have heard my young hopeful rave + about you—John Charrington, you know, medical student, first year. + He is something of a fool and a hero-worshipper. You, of course, won't + have noticed him.” + </p> + <p> + Barney halted, gazed abstractedly at the strong face with the keen grey + eyes compelling his attention, then, with an effort, he collected his + wits. + </p> + <p> + “Charrington? Yes, of course, I know him. Very decent chap, too. + Don't see much of him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, rather not. He doesn't haunt the same spots. The + dissecting-room wouldn't recognize him, I fancy. He's straight-going, + however, but he can't pass exams. Good thing, too, for unless he changes + considerably, the Lord pity his patients.” She became aware of a + sudden hardening in Barney's face and a quick flash in his eye. Without + turning her head she knew that Dr. Bulling was approaching Iola from the + other side. She put her hand on Barney's arm. “Mr. Boyle, please + take Miss Lane to my carriage there? Bulling,” she said, turning + sharply upon the doctor, “will you help Daisy to collect my stuff? I + am sure things will be left on the yacht. There are always some things + left. Servants are so stupid.” There was that in her voice that made + Bulling stand sharply at attention and promptly obey. And ere Barney knew, + he was leading Iola and Mrs. Duff Charrington to the waiting carriage. + </p> + <p> + “So sorry I didn't know you were a friend of Miss Lane's, or we + would have had you on our trip, Mr. Boyle,” said Mrs. Duff + Charrington as he closed the carriage door. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you. But I am very busy, and, besides, I would not fit in + with some of your party.” There was war in Barney's tone. + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens, young man!” cried Mrs. Duff Charrington, in no + way disturbed, “you don't expect to make the world fit in with you + or you with the world, do you? Life consists in adjusting one's self. But + you will be glad to know that Miss Lane has made us all have a very happy + little holiday.” + </p> + <p> + “Of that I am sure,” cried Barney gravely. + </p> + <p> + “And we gave her, or we tried to give her, a good time.” + </p> + <p> + “It is for that some of us have lived.” Barney's deep voice, + thrilling with sad and tender feeling, brought the quick tears to Iola's + eyes. To her, the words had in them the sound of farewell. Even Mrs. Duff + Charrington was touched. She leaned over the carriage door toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Boyle, I am taking Miss Lane home to dinner. Come with us.” + </p> + <p> + Barney felt the kindly tone. “Thank you, Mrs. Charrington, it would + give none of us pleasure, and I have much to do. I am leaving to-morrow + for Baltimore.” + </p> + <p> + Iola could not check a quick gasp. Mrs. Duff Charrington glanced at her + white face. + </p> + <p> + “Young man,” she said sternly, leaning out toward him and + looking Barney in the eyes, “don't be a fool. The man that would, + from pique, willingly hurt a friend is a mean and cruel coward.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Charrington,” replied Barney in a steady voice, “I + have just come from an operation by which a little girl, an only child, + has lost her arm. It was the mother that desired it, not from cruelty, but + from love. It is because it is best, that I go to-morrow. Good-bye.” + Then turning to Iola he said, “I shall see you to-night.” He + lifted his hat and turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Drive home, Smith,” said Mrs. Charrington sharply; “the + others will find their way.” + </p> + <p> + “Take me home,” whispered Iola, with dry lips. + </p> + <p> + “Do you love him?” said Mrs. Duff Charrington, taking the + girl's hand in hers. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes. I never knew how much.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut! tut! child, the world still moves. Baltimore is not so far and + he is only a man.” Mrs. Duff Charrington's tone did not indicate a + high opinion of the masculine section of humanity. “You'll just come + with me for dinner and then I shall send you home. Thank God, we can still + eat.” + </p> + <p> + For some minutes they drove along in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mrs. Charrington, following up the line of her + thought, “that's a man for you—thinks the whole world moves + round the axis of his own life. But I like him. He has a good face. Still,” + she mused, “a man isn't everything, although once I—but never + mind, there is always a way of bringing them to time.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't know Barney, Mrs. Charrington,” said Iola; “nothing + can ever change him.” + </p> + <p> + “Pish! You think so, and so, doubtless, does he. But none the less + it is sheer nonsense. Can you tell me the trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I think not,” said Iola softly. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. As you like, my dear. Few things are the better for + words. If ever you wish to come to me I shall be ready. Now let us dismiss + the thing till after dinner. Disagreeable thoughts hinder digestion, I + have found, and nothing is quite worth that.” + </p> + <p> + With such resolution did she follow her own suggestion that, during the + drive and throughout the dinner hour and, indeed, until the moment of her + departure, Iola was not permitted to indulge her anxious thoughts, but + with Mrs. Duff Charrington's assistance she succeeded in keeping them deep + in her heart under guard. + </p> + <p> + As Mrs. Duff Charrington kissed her good-night she whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Don't face any issue to-night. Don't settle anything. Give time a + chance. Time is a wonderfully wise old party.” + </p> + <p> + And Iola, sitting back in the carriage, decided she would act upon the + advice which suited so thoroughly her own habit of mind. That Barney had + made up his mind to a line of action she knew. She would set herself to + gain time, and yet she was fearful of the issue of the interview before + her. The fear and anxiety which she had been holding down for the last two + hours came over her in floods. As she thought of Barney's last words she + found herself searching wildly, but in vain, for motives with which to + brace her strength. If he had only been angry! But that sad, tender + solicitude in his voice unnerved her. He was not thinking of himself, she + knew. He was, as ever, thinking of and for her. + </p> + <p> + A storm of wind and rain was rapidly drawing on, but she heeded not the + big drops driving into her face, nor did she notice that before she + reached her door she was quite wet. She found Barney waiting for her. As + she entered he arose and stood silent. + </p> + <p> + “Barney!” she exclaimed, and paused, waiting. But there was no + reply. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Barney!” she cried again, her voice quivering, “won't + you tell me to come?” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said, holding out his arms. + </p> + <p> + With a little cry of timid joy she ran to him, wreathed her arms about his + neck, and clung sobbing. For some moments he held her fast, gently + caressing with his hand her face and her beautiful hair till she grew + quiet. Then disengaging her arms, he kissed her with grave tenderness and + put her away from him. + </p> + <p> + “Go and take off your wet things first,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Say you forgive me, Barney,” she whispered, putting her arms + again about his neck. + </p> + <p> + “That's not the word,” he replied sadly; “there's + nothing to forgive. Go, now!” + </p> + <p> + She hurried away, praying that Barney's mood might not change. If she + could only get her arms about his neck she could win and hold him, and, + what was far more important, she could conquer herself, for great as she + knew her love to be, she was fully aware of the hold her ambition had upon + her and she dreaded lest that influence should become dominant in this + hour. She knew well their souls would reach each other's secrets, and + according to that reading the issue would be. + </p> + <p> + “I will keep him! I will keep him!” she whispered to herself + as she tore off her wet clothing. “What shall I put on?” She + could afford to lose no point of vantage and she must hasten. She chose + her simplest gown, a soft creamy crepe de chene trimmed with lace, and + made so as to show the superb modelling of her perfect body, leaving her + arms bare to the elbow and falling away at the neck to reveal the soft, + full curves where they flowed down to the swell of her bosom. She shook + down her hair and gathered it loosely in a knot, leaving it as the wind + and rain had tossed it into a bewildering tangle of ringlets about her + face. One glance she threw at her mirror. Never had she appeared more + lovely. The dead ivory of her skin, relieved by a faint flush in her + cheeks, the lustrous eyes, now aglow with passion, all set in the frame of + the night-black masses of her hair—this, and that indescribable but + all-potent charm that love lends to the face, she saw in her glass. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, God help me!” she cried, clasping her hands high above + her head, and went forth. + </p> + <p> + These few moments Barney had spent in a fierce struggle to regain the + mastery over the surging passion that was sweeping like a tempest through + his soul. As her door opened he rose to meet her; but as his eyes fell + upon her standing in the soft rose-shaded light of the room, her attitude + of mute appeal, the rare, rich loveliness of her face and form again swept + away all the barriers of his control. She took one step toward him. With a + swift movement he covered his face with his hands and sank to his chair. + </p> + <p> + “O God! O God! O God!” he groaned. “And must I lose her!” + </p> + <p> + “Why lose me, Barney?” she said, gliding swiftly to him and + dropping to her knees beside him. “Why lose me?” she repeated, + taking his head to her heaving bosom. + </p> + <p> + The touch of pity aroused his scorn of himself and braced his manhood. Not + for himself must he think now, but for her. The touch of self makes weak, + the cross makes strong. What matter that he was giving up his life in that + hour if only she were helped? He rose, lifted her from her knees, set her + in a chair, and went back to his place. + </p> + <p> + “Barney, let me come to you,” she pleaded. “I'm sorry I + went—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, his voice quiet and steady, “you must + stay there. You must not touch me, else I cannot say what I must.” + </p> + <p> + “Barney,” she cried again, “let me explain.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain? There is no need. I know all you would say. These people + are nothing to you or to me. Let us forget them. It matters not at all + that you went with them. I am not angry. I was at first insane, I think. + But that is all past now.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Barney?” she asked in a voice awed by the sadness + and despair in the even, quiet tone. + </p> + <p> + “It is this,” he replied; “we have come to the end. I + must not hold you any more. For two years I have known. I had not the + courage to face it. But, thank God, the courage has come to me these last + two days.” + </p> + <p> + “Courage, Barney?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Courage to do right. That's it, to do right. That is what a + man must do. And I must think for you. Our lives are already far apart and + I must not keep you longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Barney!” cried Iola, her voice breaking, “let me + come to you! How can I listen to you saying such terrible things without + your arms about me? Can't you see I want you? You are hurting me!” + </p> + <p> + The pain, the terror in her voice and in her eyes, made him wince as from + a stab. He seemed to hesitate as if estimating his strength. Dare he trust + himself? It would make the task infinitely harder to have her near him, to + feel the touch of her hands, the pressure of her body. But he would save + her pain. He would help her through this hour of agony. How great it was + he could guess by his own. He led her to a sofa, sat down beside her, and + took her in his arms. With a long, shuddering sigh, she let herself sink + down, with muscles relaxed and eyes closed. + </p> + <p> + “Now go on, dear,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Poor girl! Poor girl!” said Barney, “we have made a + great mistake, you and I. I was not made for you nor you for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, darling. Do I love you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered softly. + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart and soul?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear,” she answered again. + </p> + <p> + “Better than my own life?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Barney. Oh, yes,” she replied with a little sob in her + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Now we will speak simple truth to each other,” said Barney in + a tone solemn as if in prayer, “the truth as in God's sight.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. “Oh, Barney!” she cried piteously, “must + I say all the truth?” + </p> + <p> + “We must, darling. You promise?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh-h-h! Yes, I promise.” She flung her arms upward about his + neck. “I know what you will ask.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, darling,” he said again, taking down her arms, + “this is what I would say. You have marked out your life. You will + follow your great ambition. Your glorious voice calls you and you feel you + must go. You love me and you would be my wife, make my home, mother my + children if God should send them to us; but both these things you cannot + do, and meantime you have chosen your great career. Is not this true?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't give you up, Barney!” she moaned. + </p> + <p> + To neither of them did it occur as an alternative that Barney should give + up his life's work to accompany her in the path she had marked. Equally to + both this would have seemed unworthy of him. + </p> + <p> + “Is not this true, Iola?” Barney's voice, in spite of him, + grew a little stern. And though she knew it was at the cost of life she + could not deny it. + </p> + <p> + “God gave me the voice, Barney,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, darling. And I would not hinder you nor turn you from your + great art. So it is better that there should be no bond between us.” + He paused a moment as if to gather his strength together for a supreme + effort. “Iola, when you were a girl I bound you to me. Now you are a + woman, I set you free. I love you, but you are not mine. You are your own.” + </p> + <p> + Convulsively she clung to him moaning, “No, no, Barney!” + </p> + <p> + “It is the only way.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not to-night, Barney!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to-night. To-morrow I go to Baltimore. Trent has got me an + appointment in Johns Hopkins. You will never forget me, but your life will + be full again of other people and other things.” He hurried his + words, seeking to strike the note of her ambition and so turn her mind + from her present pain. “Your Philharmonic will bring you fame. That + means engagements, great masters, and then you will belong to the great + world.” How clearly he had read her mind and how closely he had + followed the path she herself had outlined for her feet! He paused, as if + to take breath, then hurried on again as through a task. “And we + will all be proud of you and rejoice in your success and in your—your—your—happiness.” + The voice that had gone so bravely and so relentlessly through the + terrible lesson faltered at the word and broke, but only for an instant. + He must think of her. “Dick will be here,” he went on, “and + Margaret, and soon you will have many friends. Believe me, it is the best, + Iola, and you will say it some day.” + </p> + <p> + Like a flash of inspiration it came to her to say, “No, Barney, you + are not helping me to my best.” + </p> + <p> + In his soul he felt that it was a true word. For a moment he had no + answer. Eagerly she followed up her advantage. + </p> + <p> + “And who,” she cried, “will help me up and take care of + me?” + </p> + <p> + Ah, she struck deep there. Who, indeed, would care for her, guard her + against the world with its beasts of prey that batten their lusts upon + beauty and innocence? And who would help her against herself? The desire + to hold her for himself and for her sprang up fierce within him. Could he + desert her, leave her to fight her fights, to find her way through the + world's treacherous paths alone? That was the part of his renunciation + that had been the heart of his pain. Not his loss, but her danger. Not his + loneliness, but hers. For a moment he forgot everything. All the great + love in him gathered itself together and massed its weight behind this + desire to protect her and to hold her safe. + </p> + <p> + “Could you, Iola,” he cried hoarsely, “don't you think + you could let me care for you? Couldn't you come to me, give me the right + to guard you? I can make wealth, great wealth, for you. Can't you come?” + </p> + <p> + Wildly, with the incoherent logic and eloquence of great passion, he + poured forth his soul's desire for her. To work for her, to suffer for + her, to live for her, yes, and to give himself to her and to keep her only + for himself! Helpless in the sweeping tide of his mighty passion, he + poured forth his words, pleading as for his life. By an inexplicable + psychic law the exhibition of his passion calmed hers. The sight of his + weakness brought her strength. For one fleeting moment she allowed her + mind to rest upon the picture his words made of a home, made rich with the + love of a strong man, and sweet with the music of children's voices, where + she would be safe and sheltered in infinite peace and content. But only + for a moment. Swifter than the play of light there flashed before her + another scene, a crowded amphitheatre of faces, tier upon tier, eager, + rapt, listening, and upon the stage the singer holding, swaying, + compelling them to her will. Barney felt her relaxed muscles tone up into + firmness. The force of her ambition was being transmitted along those + subtle spiritual nerves that knit soul and mind and body into one complex + whole, into the very sinews and muscles of her frame. She had hold of + herself again. She would set herself to gain time. + </p> + <p> + “Let us wait, Barney,” she said, “let us take time.” + </p> + <p> + An intangible something in her tone pulled him to a sharp stop. What a + weak fool he had been and how he had been thinking of himself! He sat up, + straight and strong, his own man again. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, darling,” he said, a faint, wan smile flitting + across his face. “I was weak and selfish. I allowed myself to think + for a moment that it might be, but now I know we must say good-bye + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye?” The sting of her pain made her irritable. He was + so stubborn. “Surely, Barney, it is unreasonable to ask me to decide + at once to-night.” + </p> + <p> + He rose to his feet and lifted her gently. + </p> + <p> + “You have decided. You have already chosen your life's path, and it + lies apart from mine. Let me go quietly away.” His voice was + toneless, passionless. His fight of two days and two nights had left him + exhausted. His apparent apathy chilled her to the heart. It was a supreme + moment in their lives, and yet she could not fan her soul's fires into + flame. He was tearing up the roots of his love out of her life, but there + was no acute sense of laceration. The inevitable had come to pass. A + silence, dense and throbbing, fell upon them. Outside the storm was + lashing the wet leaves against the window. + </p> + <p> + “If ever you should want me to come to you, Iola, one word will + bring me. I shall be waiting, waiting. Remember that, always waiting.” + He tightened his arms about her and without passion, but gravely, tenderly + he lifted her face. “Good-bye, my love,” he said, and kissed + her lips. “My heart's love!” Once more he kissed her. “My + life! My love!” + </p> + <p> + She let the full weight of her body lie in his arms, lifeless but for the + eyes that held his fast and for the lips that gave him back his kisses. + Gently he placed her on the couch. + </p> + <p> + “God keep you, darling,” he whispered, bending over her and + touching her dusky hair with his lips. + </p> + <p> + He found his hat, walked with unsteady feet as a man walks under a heavy + load, her eyes following his every step, and reached the door. There he + paused, his hand fumbling at the knob, opened the door, halted yet an + instant, but without turning he passed out of her sight. + </p> + <p> + An hour later Margaret came in and found her sitting where Barney had left + her, dazed and tearless. + </p> + <p> + “He is gone,” she said dully. + </p> + <p> + Margaret turned upon her. “Gone? Yes. I have just seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “And I love him,” continued Iola, looking up at her with heavy + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Love him! You don't know what love means! Love him! And for your + paltry, selfish ambition you send from you a man whose shoes you are not + worthy to tie!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Margaret!” cried Iola piteously. + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk to me!” she replied, her lip quivering. “I + can't bear to look at you!” and she passed into her room. + </p> + <p> + It was intolerable to her that this girl should have regarded lightly the + love she herself would have died to gain. But long after Iola had sobbed + herself to sleep in her arms Margaret lay wakeful for her own pain and for + that of the man she loved better than her life. + </p> + <p> + But next day, as Iola was planning to go to the station, Margaret would + not have it. + </p> + <p> + “Why should you go? You have nothing to say but what would give him + pain. Do you want him to despise you and me to hate you?” + </p> + <p> + But Iola was resolved to have her way. It was Mrs. Duff Charrington who + fortunately intervened and carried Iola off with her to spend the + afternoon and evening. + </p> + <p> + “Just a few musical friends, my dear. So brush up and come away. + Bring your guitar with you.” + </p> + <p> + Iola demurred. + </p> + <p> + “I don't feel like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut! Nonsense! The lovelorn damsel reads well in erotic novels, but + remember this, the men don't like stale beer.” + </p> + <p> + This bit of worldly wisdom made Iola put on her smartest gown and lay + aside the role she had unconsciously planned to adopt, so that even Mrs. + Duff Charrington had no fault to find with the sparkling animation of her + protegee. + </p> + <p> + But to the three who stood together waiting for the train to pull out that + night there was only dreary, voiceless misery. There was no pretence at + anything but misery. To the brothers the moment of parting would be the + end of all that had been so delightful in their old life. The days of + their long companionship were over, and to both the thought brought grief + that made words impossible. Only Margaret's presence forced them to + self-control. As to Margaret, Dick alone knew the full measure of her + grief, and her quiet, serene courage filled him with amazed admiration. At + length came the call of the bustling, businesslike conductor, “All + aboard!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Margaret,” said Barney simply, holding out his + hand. But the girl quietly put back her veil and lifted up her face to + him, her brave blue eyes looking all their love into his, but her lips + only said, “Good-bye, Barney.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, dear Margaret,” he said again, bending over her and + kissing her. + </p> + <p> + “Me, too, Barney,” said Dick, his tears openly streaming down + his face. “I'm a confounded baby! But hanged if I care!” + </p> + <p> + At Dick's words all Barney's splendid self-mastery vanished. He threw his + arms about his brother's neck, crying “Good-bye, Dick, old man. + We've had a great time together; but oh, my boy, my boy, it's all come to + an end!” + </p> + <p> + Already the train was moving. + </p> + <p> + “Go, old chap,” cried Dick, pushing him away but still + clinging to him. And then, as Barney swung on to the step he called back + to them what had long been in his heart to say. + </p> + <p> + “Look after her, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Barney, we will,” they both cried together. And as they + stood gazing through dimming tears after the train as it sped out through + the network of tracks and the maze of green and red lights, they felt that + a new bond drew them closer than before. And it was the tightening of that + bond that brought them all the comfort that there was in that hour of + misery unspeakable. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII + </h2> + <h3> + A MAN THAT IS AN HERETIC REJECT + </h3> + <p> + The college year had come to an end. The results of the examinations had + been published. The Juniors were preparing to depart for their summer work + in the mission field. Of the graduating class, some were waiting with calm + confidence the indications of the will of Providence as to their spheres + of labour, a confidence undoubtedly strengthened by certain letters in + their possession from leading members of influential congregations. Others + were preparing with painful shrinking of heart to tread the weary and + humiliating “trail of the black bag,” while others again, to + whom had come visions of high deeds and sounds of distant battle, were + making ready outfits supposed to be suitable for life and work in the + great West, or in the far lands across the sea. + </p> + <p> + Two high functions of college life yet remained, one, the Presbytery + examination, the other, Professor Macdougall's student party. The annual + examination before Presbytery was ever an event of nerve-racking + uncertainty. It might prove to be an entirely perfunctory performance of + the most innocuous kind. On the other hand, it might develop features of a + most sensational and perilous nature. The college barometer this year was + unusually depressed, for rumour had gone abroad that the Presbytery + examination was to be of the more serious type. It was a time of + searchings of heart for those who had been giving, throughout the session, + undue attention to the social opportunities afforded by college life, and + more especially if they had allowed their contempt for the archaic and + oriental to become unnecessarily pronounced. To these latter gentlemen the + day brought gloomy forebodings. Even their morning devotions, which were + marked by unusual sincerity and earnestness, failed to bring them that + calmness of mind which these exercises are supposed to afford. For their + slender ray of hope that their memory of the English text might not fail + them in the hour of trial was very materially clouded by the dread that in + their embarrassment they might assign a perfectly correct English version + to the wrong Hebrew text. The result of such mischance they would not + allow themselves to contemplate. On the other hand, however, there was the + welcome possibility that they might be so able to dispose themselves among + the orientalists in their class that a word dropped at a critical moment + might save them from this mischance. And there was the further, and not + altogether unreal, ground of confidence, that the examiner himself might + be uneasily conscious of the ever-present possibility that some hidden + Hebrew snag might rudely jag a hole in his own vessel while sailing the + mare ignotum of oriental literature. Of course, the examination would also + include other departments of sacred learning, for it was the province and + duty of Presbytery to satisfy itself as to the soundness in the faith of + the candidates before them. On this score, however, few indulged serious + anxiety. Once the Hebraic shoals and snags were safely passed, both + examiner and examined could disport themselves with a jaunty + self-confidence born of a thorough acquaintance with the Shorter Catechism + received during the plastic years of childhood. + </p> + <p> + It was, however, just in these calm waters that danger lurked for Boyle. + On the side of scholarship he was known to be invulnerable. Boyle was the + hero and darling of the college men, more especially of the “sinners” + among them, not simply by reason of his prowess between the goal posts + where, times without number, he had rescued the college from the contempt + of its foes; but quite as much for the modesty with which he carried off + his brilliant attainments in the class lists. Throughout the term, in the + college halls after tea, there had been carried on a series of discussions + extending over the whole range of the “fundamentals,” and + Boyle had the misfortune to rouse the wrath and awaken the concern of + Finlay Finlayson, the champion of orthodoxy. Finlay was a huge, gaunt, + broad-shouldered son of Uist, a theologian by birth, a dialectician by + training, and a man of war by the gift of Heaven. Cheerfully would Finlay, + for conscience' sake, have given his body to the flames, as, for + conscience' sake, he had shaken off the heretical dust of New College, + Edinburgh, from his shoes, unhesitatingly surrendering at the same time, + Scot though he was, a scholarship of fifty pounds. The hope that he had + cherished of being able to find, in a colonial institution of sacred + learning, a safe haven where he might devote himself to the perfecting of + the defences of his faith within the citadel of orthodoxy was rudely + shattered by the discovery that the same heresies which had driven him + from New College had found their way across the sea and were being + championed by a man of such winning personality and undoubted scholarship + as Richard Boyle. The effect upon Finlayson's mind of these discussions + carried on throughout the term was such that, after much and prayerful + deliberation, and after due notice to the person immediately affected, he + discovered it to be his duty to inform the professor in whose department + these subjects lay of the heresies that were threatening the very life of + the college, and, indeed, of the Canadian Church. + </p> + <p> + The report of his interview with the professor came back to college + through the realistic if somewhat irreverent medium of the professor's + son, Tom, presently pursuing a somewhat leisurely course toward a medical + degree. As Tom appeared in the college hall he was immediately surrounded + by an eager crowd, the most eager of whom was Robert Duff, the sworn ally + of Mr. Finlayson. + </p> + <p> + “Did Finlayson see your father?” inquired Mr. Duff anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Sure thing,” answered Tom. + </p> + <p> + “And did he inform him of what has been going on in this college?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet your life! Give him the whole tip!” + </p> + <p> + “And what did the professor say?” inquired Mr. Duff, with + bated breath. + </p> + <p> + “Told him to go to the devil.” + </p> + <p> + “To what?” gasped Mr. Duff, to whom it appeared for the moment + that the foundations of things in heaven and on earth had indeed been + removed. It was only after the shout of laughter on the part of the + “sinners” had subsided that Mr. Duff realised that it was the + spirit only, and not the ipsissima verba, of the devout and reverent + professor, that had been translated in the vigorous vernacular of his son. + </p> + <p> + Unhappily, however, for Boyle, the report of his heretical tendencies had + reached other ears than those of the sane and liberal-minded professor, + those, namely, of that stern and rigid churchman, the Rev. Alexander + Naismith, some time minister of St. Columba's. Not through Finlayson, + however, be it understood, did this report reach him. That staunch + defender of orthodoxy might, under stress of conscience, find it his duty + to inform the proper authority of the matter, but sooner than retail + gossip to the hurt of his fellow-student he would have cut off his big, + bony right hand. + </p> + <p> + The Rev. Alexander Naismith was a little man with a shrill voice, which + gained for him the cognomen of “Squeaky Sandy,” and a most + irritatingly persistent temper. Into his hands, while candidates and + examiners were disporting themselves in the calm waters of Systematic + Theology, fell poor Dick, to his confusion and the temporary withholding + of his license. It was impossible but that in the college itself, and in + the college circles of society, this event should become a subject of much + heated discussion. + </p> + <p> + Professor Macdougall's student parties were not as other student parties. + They were never attended from a sense of duty. This was undoubtedly due, + not so much to the popularity of the professor with his students, as to + the shrewd wisdom and profound knowledge of human nature generally and of + student nature particularly, on the part of that gentle lady, the + professor's wife. Mrs. Macdougall was of the old school, with very + beautiful if very old-fashioned notions of propriety. Her whole life was + one poetic setting forth of the manners and deportment proper to ladies, + both young and old. But none the less her shrewd mother wit and kindly + heart instructed her in things not taught in the schools. The consequence + was that, while she herself sat erect in fine scorn of the backs of her + straight-backed Sheratons, her drawing-room was furnished with an + abundance of easy chairs and lounges, and arranged with cosey nooks and + corners calculated to gratify the luxurious tastes and lazy manners of a + decadent generation. Her shrewd wit was further discovered in the care she + took to assemble to her evening parties the prettiest, brightest, + wickedest of the young girls in the wide circle of her friends. As young + Robert Kidd put it with more vigour than grace, “There were no last + roses in her bunch.” Moreover, the wise little lady took pains to + instruct her young ladies as to their duties toward the young men of the + college. + </p> + <p> + “You must exert yourselves, my dears,” she would explain, + “to make the evening pleasant for the young men. And they require + something to distract their attention from the too earnest pursuit of + their studies.” + </p> + <p> + And it is a tradition that so heartily did the young ladies throw + themselves into this particular duty that there were, even of the + saintliest of the saints, who found it necessary to take their lectures in + absentia for at least two days in order that they might recover from the + all too successful distractions of the Macdougall party. + </p> + <p> + Among the guests invited was Margaret, beloved for her own sake, but even + more for the sake of her mother, who had been Mrs. Macdougall's college + companion and lifelong cherished friend. The absorbing theme of + conversation, carried on in a strictly confidential manner, was the + sensational feature of the Presbytery examination. The professor himself + was deeply grieved, and no less so his stately little lady, for to both of + them Dick was as a son. But from neither of them could Margaret extract + anything but the most meagre outline of what had happened. For full + details of the whole dramatic scene she was indebted to Robert Kidd, + second year theologue, whose brown curly locks and cherubic face and fresh + innocence of manner won for him the sobriquet of “Baby Kidd,” + or more shortly, “Kiddie.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell us just what happened,” entreated Miss Belle Macdougall, + with a glance of such heart-penetrating quality that Kiddie promptly + acquiesced. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll tell you,” he said, adopting a low confidential + tone. “I could see from the very start that old Squeaky Sandy was + out after Dick. He couldn't get him on his Hebrew, so the old chap lay low + till everything was lovely and they were falling on each others' necks + over the Shorter Catechism, and things every fellow is supposed to be + quite safe on. All at once Sandy squeaked in, 'Mr. Boyle, will you kindly + state what you consider the correct theory of the Atonement?' 'I don't + know,' said Boyle; 'I haven't got any.' By Jove! everyone sat up. 'You + believe in the doctrine, I suppose?' Boyle waited a while and my heart + stopped till he went on again. 'Yes, sir, I believe in it.' 'How is that, + sir? If you believe in it you must have a theory. What do you believe + about it?' 'I believe in the fact. I don't understand it, and I have no + theory of it as yet.' And Boyle was as gentle as a sucking dove. Then the + Moderator, decent old chap, chipped it.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was it?” inquired Miss Belle. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Mitchell. Fine old boy. None too sound himself, I guess. + Pre-mill, too, you know. Well, he chipped in and got him past that snag. + But old Sandy was not done yet by a long shot. He went after Boyle on + every doctrine in the catalogue where it was possible for a man to get off + the track, Inspiration, Inerrancy, the Mosaic Authorship, and the whole + Robertson Smith business. You know that last big heresy hunt in Scotland.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Miss Belle, “I don't know. And you don't, + either, so you needn't stop and try to tell us.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't, eh?” said Bob, who was finding it difficult to keep + himself in a perfectly sane condition under the bewildering glances of + Miss Belle's black eyes. “Well, perhaps I don't. At any rate, I + couldn't make you understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear him!” said Miss Belle, with supreme scorn. “Go on. + We are interested in Boyle, aren't we, Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, where was I? Oh, yes. Well, sir, in about five minutes it + seemed to me that Boyle's theology was a tattered remnant. Some of the + brethren interfered, explaining and apologizing for the young man after + their kindly custom, but Squeaky wouldn't have it. 'This is most serious, + Mr. Moderator!' he sung out. 'This demands the most searching + investigation! We all know what is going on in the Old Land, how the great + doctrines of our faith are being undermined by so-called scholarship, + which is nothing less than blasphemy and impudent scepticism.' And so he + went on shrieking more and more wildly a lot of tommy-rot. But the worst + was yet to come. All at once Sandy changed his line of attack and + proceeded to take Boyle on the flank. 'Mr. Boyle, are you a smoker?' he + asked. 'Yes,' stammered poor Boyle, getting red in the face, 'I smoke + some.' 'Are you a total abstainer?' And then Boyle got on to him, and I + saw his head go back for the first time. Before this he had been sitting + like a convicted criminal. 'No, sir,' he answered, turning square around + and facing old Squeaky, 'I am not pledged to total abstinence.' Don't + suppose he ever took a drink in his life. 'Did you ever attend the + theatre?' This was the limit. It seemed to strike the brethren all at once + what the old inquisitor was driving at. The words were hardly out of his + mouth when there was a weird sound, a cross between a howl and a roar, and + Grant was at the Moderator's desk. It will always be a mystery to me how + he got there. There were three pews between him and the desk, and I swear + he never came out into the aisle. 'Mr. Moderator, I protest', he shouted. + And then the dust began to fly. Say! it was a regular sand storm! About + the only thing visible was the lightning from Grant's eyes. By Jingo! 'Mr. + Moderator, I protest,' he cried, when he could get a hearing, 'against + these insinuations. We all know what Mr. Naismith means by this method of + inquisition. But let me tell Mr. Naismith—' Don't know what in + thunder he was going to tell him, for the next few moments they mixed it + up good and hot. Say! it was a circus with all the monkeys loose and the + band playing seventeen tunes all at once! But finally Grant had his say + and treated the Presbytery to a pretty full disquisition of his own + theology, and when he was done my pity was transferred from Boyle to him, + for it seemed that on every doctrine where Boyle was a heretic Grant had + gone him one better. And I believe the whole Presbytery were vastly + relieved to discover how slight, by contrast, were the errors to which + Boyle had fallen. Then Henderson, good old soul, took his innings and + poured on oil, with the result that Boyle was turned over to a committee—and + that's where he is now. But he'll never appear. He's going in for + journalism. The Telegraph wants him.” + </p> + <p> + “Journalism?” cried Margaret faintly. She was thinking of the + dark-faced old lady up in the country who was counting the days till her + son should be sent forth a minister of the Gospel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Kiddie. “And there's where he'll shine. See + what he's done with the Monthly. He's got great style. But wasn't there a + row at the college!” continued Kiddie. “Old Father Finlayson + there,” nodding across the room at the Highlander, who was engaged + in what appeared to be an extremely interesting conversation with his + hostess, “orthodox old beggar as he is, was ready to lead a raid on + Squeaky Sandy's house. You know he has been at war with Boyle all winter + on every and all possible themes. But he fights fair, and this hitting + below the belt was too much for him. He was raging up and down the hall + like a wild man when Boyle came in. 'Mr. Boyle,' he roared, rushing up to + him and seizing him by the hand and working it like a pump-handle in a + fire, 'it was a most iniquitous proceeding! I wish to assure you I have no + sympathy whatever with that sort of thing!' And so he went on till he had + Boyle almost in tears. By Jove! he's a rum old party! Look at his socks, + will you!” + </p> + <p> + The young ladies glanced across and beheld in amused but amazed horror the + Highlander's great feet encased in a new pair of carpet slippers adorned + with pink roses and green ground, which made a startling contrast with his + three-ply worsted stockings, magenta in colour, which his fond aunt had + knit as part of his outfit for the Arctic regions of Canada. + </p> + <p> + “You may laugh,” continued Bob. “So would I yesterday. + But, by Jingo! he can wear magenta socks on his head if he likes for me! + He's all white, and he has the heart of a gentleman!” Little Kidd's + voice went shaky and his eyes had the curious shine that appeared in them + only in moments of deepest excitement, but if he had only known it, he had + never been so near storming the gate of Miss Belle's heart as at that + moment. She showed her sympathy with Kiddie's attitude by giving Mr. + Finlayson “the time of his life,” as Kiddie himself remarked. + So assiduously, indeed, did she devote herself to the promotion of Mr. + Finlayson's comfort and good cheer that that gentleman's fine sense of + honour prompted him to inform her incidentally of the existence of Miss + Jennie McLean, who was to “come out to him as soon as he was placed.” + He was surprised, but entirely delighted, to discover that this + announcement made no difference whatever in Miss Belle's attentions. At + the supper hour, however, Miss Belle, moved by Kiddie's lugubrious + countenance, yielded her place to Margaret, who continued the operation of + giving Mr. Finlayson “the time of his life.” But not a word + could she extract from him regarding the heresy case, for, with a skill + that might have made a Queen's Counsel green with envy, he baffled her + leading questions with a density of ignorance unparalleled in her + experience, until she let it be known that Dick was an old schoolmate and + dear friend. Then Mr. Finlayson poured forth the grief and rage swelling + in his big heart at the treatment his enemy had received and his anxious + concern for his future both here and hereafter. In a portion of this + concern, at least, Margaret shared. And as Mr. Finlayson continued to + unburden himself, during the walk home, regarding the heresies in + Edinburgh from which he had fled and the heresies that had apparently + taken possession of Dick's mind, her heart continued to sink within her, + for it seemed that the opinions attributed to Dick were subversive of all + she had held true from her childhood. With such intelligence and sympathy, + however, did she listen to Mr. Finlayson discoursing, that that gentleman + carried back with him to college a heart somewhat lightened of its burden, + but withal seriously impressed with the charm and the mental grasp of the + young ladies of Canada. And so enthusiastically did he dwell upon this + theme in his next letter, that Miss Jessie McLean set herself devoutly to + pray, either that Finlayson might soon be placed, or that the professors + might cease giving parties. + </p> + <p> + The brand of heresy almost invariably works ill to him who bears it. For + if he be young and shallow enough to enjoy the distinction, it will only + increase his vanity and render his return to sure and safe paths more + difficult. But if his doubts are to him a grief and a horror of darkness, + the brand will burn in and drive him far from his fellows, and change the + kindly spirit in him to bitterness unless, perchance, he light upon a + friend who gives him love and trust unstinted and links him to wholesome + living. After all, in matters of faith every man must blaze his own path + through the woods and make his own clearing in which to dwell. And he may + well thank God if his path lead him some whither where there is space + enough to work his day's work and light enough to live by. + </p> + <p> + With Dick it was mostly dark, for it was not given him to have a friend + who could understand. But he was not allowed to feel himself to be quite + abandoned, for in the darkest of his hours there stood at his side + Margaret Robertson, whose strong, cheery good sense and whose loyalty to + right-doing helped him and strengthened him and so made it possible to + wait till the better day dawned. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV + </h2> + <h3> + WHOSOEVER LOOKETH UPON A WOMAN + </h3> + <p> + The Journalistic World has its own diversity of mountain and plain, and + its own variety of inhabitants. There are its mountain ranges and upland + regions of clear skies and pure airs, where are wide outlooks and horizons + whose dim lines fade beyond the reach of clear vision. Amid these mountain + ranges and upon these uplands dwell men among the immortals to whom has + come the “vision splendid” and whose are the voices that in + the crisis of a man or of a nation give forth the call that turns the face + upward to life eternal and divine. To these men such words as Duty, + Honour, Patriotism, Purity, stand for things of intrinsic value worth a + man's while to seek and, having found, to die for. + </p> + <p> + Level plains there are, too, where harvests are sown and reaped. But there + these same words often become mere implements of cultivation, tools for + mechanical industries or currency for the conduct of business. Here dwell + the practical men of affairs, as they love to call themselves, for whom + has faded the vision in the glare of opportunism. + </p> + <p> + And far down by the water-fronts are the slum wastes where the sewers of + politics and business and social life pour forth their fetid filth. Here + the journals of yellow shade grub and fatten. In this ooze and slime + puddle the hordes of sewer rats, scavengers of the world's garbage, from + whose collected stores the editor selects his daily mess for the + delectation of the great unwashed, whether of the classes or of the + masses, and from which he grabs in large handfuls that viscous mud that + sticks and stings where it sticks. + </p> + <p> + The Daily Telegraph was born yellow, a frank yellow of the barbaric type + that despises neutral tints. By the Daily Telegraph things were called by + their uneuphemistic names. A spade was a spade, and mud was mud, and + nothing was sacred from its sewer rats. The highest paid official on its + staff was a criminal lawyer celebrated in the libel courts. Everybody + cursed it and everybody read it. After a season, having thus firmly + established itself in the enmities of the community, and having become, in + consequence, financially secure, it began to aspire toward the uplands, + where the harvests were as rich and at the same time less perilous as well + as less offensive in the reaping. It began to study euphemism. A spade + became an agricultural implement and mud alluvial deposit. Having become + by long experience a specialist in the business of moral scavenging, it + proceeded to devote itself with most vehement energy to the business of + moral reform. All indecencies that could not successfully cover themselves + with such gilding as good hard gold can give were ruthlessly held up to + public contempt. It continued to be cursed, but gradually came to be + respected and feared. + </p> + <p> + It was to aid in this upward climb that the editor of the Daily Telegraph + seized upon Dick. That young man was peculiarly fitted for the part which + was to be assigned to him. He was a theological student and, therefore, + his ethical standards were unimpeachable. His university training + guaranteed his literary sense, and his connection with the University and + College papers had revealed him a master of terse English. He was the very + man, indeed, but he must serve his apprenticeship with the sewer rats. For + months he toiled amid much slime and filth, breathing in its stinking + odours, gaining knowledge, it is true, but paying dear for it in the + golden coin of that finer sensibility and that vigorous moral health which + had formerly made his life, to himself and to others, a joy and beauty. + For the slime would stick, do what he could, and with the smells he must + become so familiar that they no longer offended. That delicate + discrimination that immediately detects the presence of decay departed + from him, and in its place there developed a coarser sense whose + characteristic was its power to distinguish between sewage and sewage. + Hence, morality, with him, came to consist in the choosing of sewage of + the less offensive forms. On the other hand, consciousness of the brand of + heresy drove him from those scenes where the air is pure and from + association with those high souls who by mere living exhale spiritual + health and fragrance. + </p> + <p> + “We do not see much of Mr. Boyle these days, Margaret,” Mrs. + Macdougall would say to her friend, carefully modulating her tone lest she + should betray the anxiety of her gentle, loyal heart. “But I doubt + not he is very busy with his new duties.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is very busy,” Margaret would reply, striving to + guard her voice with equal care, but with less success. For Margaret was + cursed, nay blessed, with that heart of infinite motherhood that yearns + over the broken or the weak or the straying of humankind, and makes their + pain its own. + </p> + <p> + “Bring him with you to tea next Sabbath evening, my dear,” the + little lady would say, with never a quiver or inflection of voice + betraying that she had detected the girl's anxiety for her friend. + </p> + <p> + But more infrequently, as the days went on, could she secure Dick for an + hour on Sabbath evening in the quiet, sweet little nook of the professor's + dining-room. He was so often held by his work, but more often by his + attendance upon Iola, for between Iola and him there had grown up and + ripened rapidly an intimacy that Margaret regarded with distrust and fear. + How she hated herself for her suspicions! How she fought to forbid them + harbour in her heart! But how persistently they made entrance and to + abide. + </p> + <p> + The World of Fashion is, for the most part, a desert island of gleaming + sands, at times fanned by perfume-laden zephyrs and lapped by shining + waters. Then those who dwell there disport themselves, careless of all + save the lapping, shining waters and the gleaming sands out of which they + build their sand castles with such concentrated eagerness and such painful + industry. At other times there come tempests, sudden and out of clear + skies, which sweep, with ruthless besom, castles and castle-builders + alike, and leave desolation and empty spaces for a time. + </p> + <p> + A silly world it is, and hard of heart, and like to die of ennui at times. + And hence it welcomes with pathetic joy all who can bring some new fancy + or trick to their castle-building, rejecting all other without remorse. To + this World of Fashion Iola had offered herself, giving freely her great + voice and her superb body, now developed into the full splendour of its + rich and sensuous beauty. And how they gathered about her and gave her + unstinted their flatteries and homage, taking toll the while of the very + soul-stuff in her. Devoutly they worshipped at the shrine of that + heavenlike and heaven-given instrument wherewith she could tickle their + senses, rejoicing, during the pauses of their envies and hatreds, such + among them as were female, and of their lusts and despairs such as were + male, in her warm flesh tints and full flesh curves and the draperies + withal wherewith, with consummate art, she revealed or enhanced the same. + For Iola was possessed of a fatal, maddening beauty, and an alluring + fascination of manner that wrought destruction among men and fury among + women. + </p> + <p> + To Dick, who, with his brilliant talents, shed lustre upon her courts, + Iola gave chief place in her train, yet in such manner as that her + preference for him neither lessened the number nor checked the ardour of + her devotees. He was her friend of childhood days, her good friend, but + nothing more. Upon this basis of a boy and girl friendship was established + an intimacy which seemed to render unnecessary those conventions, unreal + and vexing in appearance, but which, as the wise old world has proved, man + and woman with the dread potencies of passion slumbering within them + cannot afford to despise. By their mutual tastes, as by their habits of + life, Iola and Dick were brought into daily association. Under Dick's + guidance she read and studied the masters of the English drama. For she + had her eye now upon the operatic stage and was at present devoting + herself to the great musical dramas of Wagner. Together they took full + advantage of the theatre privileges which Dick's connection with the press + gave him. And at those festive routs by which society amuses and vexes + itself they were constantly thrown together. Dick was acutely and + growingly sensitive to the influence Iola had upon him. Her beauty + disturbed him. The subtle potency that exhaled from her physical charms + affected him like draughts of wine. Away from her presence he marvelled at + himself and scorned his weakness; but once within sound of her voice, + within touch of her hand, her power reasserted itself. The mystery of the + body, its subtle appeal, its terrible potency, allured and enslaved him. + Against this infatuation of Dick's, Margaret felt herself helpless. She + well knew that Dick's love for her had not changed, except to grow into a + bitter, despairing intensity that made his presence painful to her at + times. This very love of his closed her lips. She could only wait her + time, meanwhile keeping such touch with him as she could, bringing to him + the wholesome fragrance of a pure heart and the strength and serenity of a + life devoted to well doing. + </p> + <p> + Something would occur to recall him to his better self. And something did + occur. Almost a year had elapsed since Barney had gone out of Iola's life + in so tragic a way. Through all the months of the year he had waited, + longing and hoping for the word that might recall him to her, until + suspense became unbearable even for his strong soul. Hence it was that + Iola received from him a letter breathing of love so deep, so tender, and + withal so humble, that even across the space that these months had put + between Barney and herself, Iola was profoundly stirred and sorely put to + it to decide upon her answer. She took the letter to Margaret and read her + such parts as she thought necessary. “A year has gone. It seems like + ten. I have waited for your word, but none has come. Looking back upon + that dreadful night I sometimes think I may have been severe. If so, my + punishment has been heavy enough to atone. Tell me, shall I come to you? I + can offer you a home even better than I had hoped a year ago. I am offered + a lectureship here with an ample salary, or an assistantship on equal + terms, by Trent. I have discovered that I am in the grip of a love beyond + my power to control. In spite of all that my work is to me, I find myself + looking, not into the book before me, but into your eyes—I may be + able to live without you, but I cannot live my best. I don't see how I can + live at all. It seems as if I could not wait even a few days for your word + to come. Darling, my heart's love, tell me to come.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I answer a letter like that?” said Iola to Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “How?” exclaimed Margaret. “Tell him to come. Wire him. + Go to him. Anything to get him to you.” + </p> + <p> + Iola mused a while. “He wants me to marry him and to keep his house.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Margaret, “he does.” + </p> + <p> + “Housekeeping and babies, ugh!” shuddered Iola. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” cried Margaret, “ah, God, yes! Housekeeping and + babies and Barney! God pity your poor soul!” + </p> + <p> + Iola shrank from the fierce intensity of Margaret's sudden passion. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” she cried. “Why do you speak so?” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Can't you read God's meaning in your woman's body and in your + woman's heart?” + </p> + <p> + From Margaret Iola got little help. Indeed, the gulf between the two was + growing wider every day. She resolved to show her letter to Dick. They + were to go that evening to the play and after the play there would be + supper. And when he had taken her home she would show him the letter. + </p> + <p> + On their way home that evening as they were passing Dick's rooms, he + suddenly remembered that a message was to be sent him from the office. + </p> + <p> + “Let us run in for a moment,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I think I had better wait you here,” replied Iola. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” cried Dick. “Don't be a baby. Come in.” + </p> + <p> + Together they entered and, laying aside her wrap, Iola sat down and drew + forth Barney's letter. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Dick. I want your advice.” And she read over such + portions of Barney's letter as she thought necessary. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she said, as Dick remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Dick, “what's your answer to be?” + </p> + <p> + “You know what he means,” said Iola a little impatiently. + “He wants me to marry him at once and to settle down.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Dick, “why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Dick,” cried Iola, “do you think I am suited for + that kind of life? Can you picture me devoting myself to the keeping of a + house tidy, the overseeing of meals? I fancy I see myself spending the + long, quiet evenings, my husband busy in his office or out among his + patients while I dose and yawn and grow fat and old and ugly, and the + great world forgetting. Dick, I should die! Of course, I love Barney. But + I must have life, movement. I can't be forgotten!” + </p> + <p> + “Forgotten?” cried Dick. “Why should you be forgotten? + Barney's wife could not be ignored and the world could not forget you. + And, after all,” added Dick, in a musing tone, “to live with + Barney ought to be good enough for any woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, how eloquent you are, Dick!” she cried, making a little + moue. “You are quite irresistible!” she added, leaning toward + him with a mocking laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Come, let us go,” said Dick painfully, conscious of her + physical charm. “We must get away.” + </p> + <p> + “But you haven't helped me, Dick,” she cried, drawing nearer + to him and laying her hand upon his arm. + </p> + <p> + The perfume of her hair smote upon his senses. The beauty of her face and + form intoxicated him. + </p> + <p> + He knew he was losing control of himself. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Iola,” he said, “let us go.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what to say, Dick,” she replied, smiling into his + face and leaning toward him. + </p> + <p> + “How can I tell you?” cried Dick desperately, springing up. + “I only know you are beautiful, Iola, beautiful as an angel, as a + devil! What has come over you, or is it me, that you should affect me so? + Do you know,” he added roughly, lifting her to her feet, his breath + coming hard and fast, “I can hardly keep my hands off you. We must + go. I must go. Come!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor child,” mocked Iola, still smiling into his eyes, + “is it afraid it will get hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “Stop it, Iola!” cried Dick. “Come on!” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she mocked, still leaning toward him. + </p> + <p> + Swiftly Dick turned, seized her in his arms, his eyes burning down upon + her mocking face. “Kiss me!” he commanded. + </p> + <p> + Gradually she allowed the weight of her body to lean upon him, drawing him + steadily down toward her the while, with the deep, passionate lure of her + lustrous eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me!” he commanded again. But she shook her head, holding + him still with her gaze. + </p> + <p> + “God in heaven!” cried Dick. “Go away!” He made to + push her from him. She clasped him about the neck, allowing herself to + sink in his arms with her face turned upward to his. Fiercely he crushed + her to him, and again and again his hot, passionate kisses fell upon her + face. + </p> + <p> + Conscious only of the passion throbbing in their hearts and pulsing + through their bodies, oblivious to all about them, they heard not the + opening of the door and knew not that a man had entered the room. For a + single moment he stood stricken with horror as if gazing upon death + itself. Turning to depart, his foot caught a chair. Terror-smitten, the + two sprang apart and stood with guilt and shame stamped upon their ghastly + faces. + </p> + <p> + “Barney!” they cried together. + </p> + <p> + Slowly he came back to them. “Yes, it is I.” The words seemed + to come from some far distance. “I couldn't wait. I came for my + answer, Iola. I thought I could persuade you better. I have it now. I have + lost you! And”—here he turned to Dick—“oh, my God! + My God! I have lost my brother, too!” he turned to depart from him. + </p> + <p> + “Barney,” cried Dick passionately, “there was no wrong! + There was nothing beyond what you saw!” + </p> + <p> + “Was that all?” inquired his brother quietly. + </p> + <p> + “As God is in heaven, Barney, that was all!” + </p> + <p> + Barney threw a swift glance round the room, crossed to a side table, and + picked up a Bible lying there. He turned the leaves rapidly and handed it + to his brother with his finger upon a verse. + </p> + <p> + “Read!” he said. “You know your Bible. Read!” His + voice was terrible and compelling in its calmness. + </p> + <p> + Following the pointing finger, Dick's eyes fell upon words that seemed to + sear his eyeballs as he read, “Whosoever looketh on a woman to lust + after her, hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.” + Heart-smitten, Dick stood without a word. + </p> + <p> + “I could kill you now,” said the quiet, terrible voice. + “But what need? To me you are already dead.” + </p> + <p> + When Dick looked up his brother had gone. Nerveless, broken, he sank into + a chair and sat with his face in his hands. Beside him stood Iola, pale, + rigid, her eyes distended as if she had seen a horrid vision. She was the + first to recover. + </p> + <p> + “Dick,” she said softly, laying her hand upon his head. + </p> + <p> + He sprang up as if her fingers had been red-hot iron and had burned to the + bone. + </p> + <p> + “Don't touch me!” he cried in vehement frenzy. “You are + a devil! And I am in hell! In hell! do you hear?” He caught her by + the arm and shook her. “And I deserve hell! Hell! Hell! Fools! no + hell?” He turned again to her. “And for you, for this, and + this, and this,” touching her hair, her cheek, and her heaving bosom + with his finger, “I have lost my brother—my brother—my + own brother—Barney. Oh, fool that I am! Damned! Damned! Damned!” + </p> + <p> + She shrank back from him, then whispered with pale lips, “Oh, Dick, + spare me! Take me home!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” he cried in mad haste, “anywhere, in the + devil's name! Come! Come!” He seized her wrap, threw it upon her + shoulders, caught up his hat, tore open the door for her, and followed her + out. + </p> + <p> + “Can a man take fire into his bosom and not be burned?” And + out of the embers of his passion there kindled a fire that night that + burned with unquenchable fury for many a day. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV + </h2> + <h3> + THE SUPERINTENDENT'S METHODS + </h3> + <p> + The Superintendent was spending the precious hours of one of his rare + visits at home in painful plodding through his correspondence. For it was + part of the sacrifice his work demanded, and which he cheerfully made, + that he should forsake home and wife and children for his work's sake. The + Assembly's Convener found him in the midst of an orderly confusion of + papers of different sorts. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, sir?” The Superintendent's voice had a fine + burr about it that gripped the ear, and his hand a vigour and tenacity of + hold that gripped the outstretched hand of the Assembly's Convener and + nearly brought the little man to the floor. “Sit down, sir, and + listen to this. Here are some of the compensations that go with the + Superintendent's office. This is rich. It comes from my friend, Henry + Fink, of the Columbia Forks in the Windermere Valley. British Columbia, + you understand,” noticing the Convener's puzzled expression. “I + visited the valley a year ago and found a truly deplorable condition of + things. Men had gone up there many years ago and settled down remote from + civilization. Some of them married Indian wives and others of them ought + to have married them, and they have brought up families in the atmosphere + and beliefs of the pagans. Would you believe it, I fell in with a young + man on the trail, twenty years of age, who had never heard the name of our + Saviour except in oaths? He had never heard the story of the Cross. And + there are many others like him. At the Columbia Forks the only institution + that stands for things intellectual is a Freethinkers' Club, the president + of which is a retired colonel of the British Army, a man of fine manners, + of some degree of intelligence and reading, but, I have reason to believe, + of bad life. His is the dominant influence in the community if we except + my friend, Mr. Henry Fink, or, as he is known locally, 'Hank Fink.' Hank + is a character, I assure you. A Yankee from the Eastern States, the son of + a Scotch mother. Has a cattle ranch, runs a store which supplies the + scattered ranchers, prospectors, and miners with the necessaries of life, + and keeps a stopping place. Is postmaster, too. In fact, Hank is pretty + much the whole village. He has lived in that country some fifteen years. + Has a good Canadian wife, and a flock of small children. He is a rara avis + in that country from the fact that he hates whiskey. He hates it almost as + much as he does Colonel Hicks and his Freethinking Club. When I visited + the village, for some reason or other Hank took me up, the Scotch blood in + him possibly recognising kinship. He gave me his store to preach in, took + me all about the country, and in a week had a mission organized on a sound + financial basis. His methods were very simple, very direct, and very + effective. He estimated the amount each man should pay and announced this + fact to the man, who generally acquiesced. I didn't probe too deeply into + Hank's motives, but it seemed to give him considerable satisfaction to + learn that Colonel Hicks was filled with indignant and scornful rage at + the proposal to establish a Christian mission in that remote valley. It + grieved the Colonel to think that after so many years of immunity they + should at last be called upon to tolerate this particularly offensive + appendage to an effete civilization. I noticed that Hank's English always + broke down in referring to the Colonel. Well, we sent in Finlayson a year + ago this spring, you remember. Strong man, good preacher, conscientious + fellow. Thought he would do great work. You know Finlayson? Well, this is + the result.” Here he picked up Hank's letter. “This would + hardly do for the Home Mission report,” continued the + Superintendent, with a twinkle in his keen grey eyes: + </p> + <p> + “COLUMBIA FORKS, WINDERMERE, B. C. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR SIR:—I take my pen to write you a few lines to let you + know how things is goin'. Well, sir, I want to tell you this station is + goin' to the devil. [Judging from what I saw of the place, it hadn't far + to go.] Your preacher ain't worth a cuss. I don't say he ain't good fer + some people, but he ain't our style. [Mr. Finlayson would doubtless agree + with that.] He means well, but he ain't eddicated up to the West. You + remember how we got the boys all corralled up nice an' tame when you was + here. Well, he's got 'em wild. Couldn't reach 'em with a shotgun. He + throwed hell fire at 'em till they got scart an' took to the hills till + you can't get near 'em no more'n mountain goats. So they have all quit + comin'—I don't count Scotty Fraser, for he would come, anyway—except + me an' Monkey Fiddler an' his yeller dog. You can always count on the dog. + Now, sir, this is your show, not mine. But I was born an' raised a + Presbyteryn down East, an' though I haven't worked hard at the business + for some years, it riles me some to hear Col. Hicks an' a lot of durned + fools that has got smarter than God Almighty Himself shootin' off against + the Bible an' religion an' all that. [We needn't read too closely between + the lines at this point.] Send a man that don't smell so strong of sulphur + an' brimstone, who has got some savey, an' who will know how to handle the + boys gentle. They ain't to say bad, but just a leetle wild. Send him + along, an' we will stay with him an' knock the tar out of that bunch of + fools. + </p> + <p> + “Yours most respeckfully, + </p> + <p> + “HENRY FINK. + </p> + <p> + “P. S. When are you comin' into the valley again? If you could + arrange to spend a month or two I'll guarantee we will have 'em all in + nice shape. + </p> + <p> + “Yours respeckfully, + </p> + <p> + “HENRY FINK.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think you can count much from the support of a man like + that,” said the assembly's Convener; “I don't think he shows + any real interest in the work.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” said the Superintendent, “don't you know + he is the Chairman of our Board of Management, a most regular attendant + upon ordinances and contributes most liberally to our support? And while + these things in the East wouldn't necessarily indicate a change of heart, + they stand for a good deal west of the Great Divide. And, at any rate, in + these matters we remember gratefully the word that is written, 'He that is + not against us is on our part.'” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said the Assembly's Convener, “it may be + so. It may be so. But what's to be done with Finlayson? And where will you + get a successor for him?” + </p> + <p> + “We can easily place Finlayson. He is a good man and will do + excellent work in other fields. But where to get a man for Windermere is + the question. Do you know anyone?” + </p> + <p> + The Assembly's Convener shook his head sadly. + </p> + <p> + “There appears to be no one in sight,” said the + Superintendent. “I have a number of applications here,” + picking up a good-sized bundle of neatly folded papers, “but they + are hardly the kind to suit conditions at Windermere. Numbers of them feel + themselves specially called of God to do mission work in large centres of + population. Others are chiefly anxious about the question of support. One + man would like to be in touch with a daily train service, as he feels it + necessary to keep in touch with the world by means of the daily newspaper. + A number are engaged who want to be married. Here's Mr. Brown, too fat. No + move in him. Here's McKay—good man, earnest, but not adaptable, like + Finlayson; won't do. Here's Garton—fine fellow, would do well, but + hardly strong enough. So what are you to do? I have gone over the whole + list of available men and I cannot find one suitable for Windermere.” + </p> + <p> + In this the Assembly's Convener could give him no help. Indeed, from few + did the Superintendent receive assistance in the securing of men for his + far outposts. + </p> + <p> + Assistance came to him from an unexpected quarter. He was to meet the + Assembly's Convener and some members of the Committee that evening at + Professor Macdougall's for tea. The Superintendent's mind could not be + kept long away from the work that was his very life, and at the table the + conversation turned to the question of the chronic difficulty of securing + men for frontier work, which had become acute in the case of Windermere. + Margaret, who had been invited to assist Mrs. Macdougall in the dispensing + of her hospitality, was at once on the alert. Why could not Dick be sent? + If only that Presbytery difficulty could be got over he might go. That he + would be suited for the work she was well assured, and equally certain was + she that it would be good for him. + </p> + <p> + “It would save him,” Margaret said to herself with a sharp + sting at her heart, for she had to confess sadly that Dick had come to the + point where he needed saving. She had learned from Iola the whole + miserable story of Barney's visit, of his terrible indictment of his + brother and the final break between them, but she had seen little of him + during the past six months. From that terrible night Dick had gone down in + physical and in moral health. Again and again he had written Barney, but + there had been no reply. Hungrily he had come to Margaret for word of his + brother, hopeful of reconciliation. But of late he had given up hope and + had ceased to make inquiry, settling down into a state of gloomy, + remorseful grief into which Margaret felt she dare not intrude. He + occasionally met Iola at society functions, but there was an end of all + intimacy between them. His only relief seemed to be in his work, and he + gave himself to that with such feverish energy that his health broke down, + and under Margaret's persuasion he was now at home with his mother. Thence + he had written once to say that his days were one long agony. She + remembered one terrible sentence. “Everything here, the house, the + mill, my father's fiddle, my mother's churn, the woods, the fields, + everything, everything shrieks 'Barney' at me till I am like to go mad. I + must get away from here to some place where he has never been with me.” + </p> + <p> + It required some considerable skill to secure the Superintendent that + evening for a few minutes alone. In whatever company he was, he was easily + the centre of interest. But Margaret, even in the early days of the Manse, + had been a favourite with him, and he was not a man to forget his friends. + He had the rare gift of gripping them to him with “hooks of steel.” + Hence, he had kept in touch with her during the latter years, pitying the + girl's loneliness as much as his admiration for her cheery courage and her + determined independence would allow him. When Margaret found her + opportunity she wasted no time. + </p> + <p> + “I have a man for you for Windermere,” were her opening words. + </p> + <p> + “You have? Where have you got him? Who is he? And are you willing to + spare him? Few young ladies are. But you are different from most.” + The Superintendent was ever a gallant. + </p> + <p> + “You remember Mr. Boyle who graduated a year ago?” Her words + came hurriedly and there was a slight flush on her cheek. “There was + some trouble about his license at Presbytery. That horrid old Mr. Naismith + was very nasty, and Dick, Mr. Boyle, I mean—we have always been + friends,” she hastened to add, explaining her deepening blush, + “you know his mother lived at the Mill near us. Well, since that day + in Presbytery he has never been the same. His work—he is on the + Daily Telegraph, you know—takes him away from—from—well, + from Church and that kind of thing, and from all his friends.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said the Superintendent, with grave sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “And he's got to be very different. He had some trouble, great + trouble, the greatest possible to him. Oh, I may as well tell you. The + brothers—you remember the doctor, Barney?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” replied the Superintendent. “Strong man. + Where is he now?” + </p> + <p> + “He went to Europe. Well, the brothers were everything to each other + since little fellows together. Oh, it was beautiful! I never saw anything + like it anywhere. They had a misunderstanding, a terrible + misunderstanding. Dick was in the wrong.” The Superintendent shot a + keen glance at her. “No,” she said, answering his glance, the + colour in her face deepening into a vivid scarlet, “it was not about + me, not at all. I can't tell you about it, but that, and his trouble with + the Presbytery, and all the rest of it are just killing him. And I know if + he got back to his own work again and away from home it would save him, + and his mother, too, for she is breaking her heart. Couldn't you get him + out there?” + </p> + <p> + The Superintendent saw how hard a task it had been for her to tell the + story, and the sight of her eager face, the big blue eyes bright, and the + lips quivering with the intensity of her feeling, deeply touched him. + </p> + <p> + “It might be possible,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know the Presbytery difficulty,” cried Margaret, with a + desperate note in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “That could be arranged, I have no doubt,” said the + Superintendent, brushing aside that difficulty with a wave of the hand. + “The question is, would he be willing to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he would go, I am sure. If you saw him and if you told him + those stories about the need there is, I am sure he would go. Could you + see him? There is no use to write. I do wish you could. He is such a fine + boy and his mother is so set upon his being a minister.” The blue + eyes were bright with tears she was too brave to let fall. + </p> + <p> + “My dear young lady,” said the Superintendent, his deep voice + growing deeper under the intensity of his feelings, “I would do much + for your sake and for your mother's. I am to visit your home early next + month. I shall make it a point to see Mr. Boyle, and I promise you I shall + get him if it is possible.” + </p> + <p> + The sudden lifting of the burden from her heart deprived the girl of + speech, but she shyly put out her hand and touched the long, sinewy + fingers that lay within reach of hers in a timid caress. Instantly the + fingers closed upon her hand in a grasp so strong that it seemed to drive + the conviction into her heart that somehow this strong man would find a + way by which Dick could be saved. + </p> + <p> + How, or by what arguments, the Superintendent overcame Dick's objections, + Margaret never learned. But the full bitter tale of reasons against his + ever taking up his work again, with which Dick had made himself so + familiar during the past dark, dreary months, were one by one removed, and + when the Superintendent left the Old Stone Mill he had secured his + missionary for Windermere. It gave the Superintendent acute satisfaction + to remember the flash of his missionary's blue eyes as, in answer to the + warning, “You will have a hard fight of it, remember,” the + reply came, “A hard fight? Thank God!” + </p> + <p> + Before the year was over it fell that the Windermere valley came to be one + of the mission fields that gladdened the hearts of the Home Mission + Committee of the Calgary Presbytery, and especially of its doughty + Convener. In the Convener's study, eight by ten, the report from the + Windermere field was discussed with the ubiquitous and indefatigable + Superintendent. + </p> + <p> + “An extremely gratifying record,” said the Superintendent, + “especially when one considers its disorganized condition a year + ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's a good report,” assented the Convener. “We + had practically no support a year ago. Our strongest man—” + </p> + <p> + “Fink?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You know Hank, I see. Well, Hank's enthusiasm and devotion + were hardly of what you would call the purest type. But whatever his + motive, he stood by the missionary, and, do you know, it is a splendid + testimony of the power of the Gospel to see the change in that same shrewd + old sinner. Yes, sir, give the Gospel a chance and it will do its work.” + The Convener, who hated all cant and canting phrases with a perfect + hatred, rarely allowed himself the luxury of an emotional outbreak. But + the case of Hank Fink seemed to reach the springs of feeling that he kept + hidden in the deep heart of him. + </p> + <p> + “So Boyle has done well?” said the Superintendent. “I am + very glad of it. Very glad of it, for his own sake, for his mother's, and + for the sake of another.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the Convener, “Boyle has done a fine bit + of work. He lived all summer on his horse's back and in his canoe, + followed the prospectors up into the gulches and the miners to their + mines, if you can call them mines, left a magazine here, a book there, a + New Testament next place. And once he got his grip on a man, he never let + him go. Hank told me how he found a man sick in a camp away up in a gulch + and how he stayed with him for more than a week, then brought him down on + his horse's back to the Forks. Yes, it's a good record. A church built at + the north end of the field, another almost completed at the Forks. Really, + it was very fine,” continued the Convener, allowing his enthusiasm + to rise. “It renews one's faith in the reality of religion to see a + man jump into his work like that. They didn't pay him his salary the first + half year, but he omitted to mention that in his report.” + </p> + <p> + The Superintendent sat up straight. “Is he behind yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I mentioned the matter to Fink and explained that if the field + failed it was Boyle that would suffer. His language—well,” the + Convener laughed reminiscently, “you have seen Hank?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I've seen him, I've heard him, and I've read him. But let us + hope that his deeds will atone in a measure for his broken English. But,” + continued the Superintendent, “you have had Boyle ordained, have you + not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. We got him ordained,” replied the Convener, beginning to + chuckle. A delighted, choking chuckle it was. Any missionary who had + worked in his Presbytery would recognize the Convener in the dark by that + chuckle. It began, if one were quick to observe, with a wrinkling about + the corners of the sharp blue eyes, then became audible in a succession of + small explosions that seemed to have their origin in the region of the + esophagus and to threaten the larynx with disruption, until relief was + found in a wide-throated peal that subsided in a second series of small + explosions and gradually rumbled off into silence somewhere in the region + of the diaphragm, leaving only the wrinkles about the corners of the blue + eyes as a kind of warning that the whole process might be repeated upon + sufficient provocation. “Yes, we got him ordained,” he + repeated when the chuckle had passed. “I was glad of your + explanatory note about him. It guided us in our arrangements for + examination.” + </p> + <p> + “What happened?” inquired the Superintendent, leaning forward. + He dearly loved a yarn, and he sorely hated to lose any of the more + humorous incidents of missionary life, not only for the joy they brought + him, but also because they furnished him with ammunition for his Eastern + campaigns. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it was funny,” said the Convener, his lips twitching + and his eyes wrinkling, “though at one time it looked like an + Assembly case with all seven of us up before the bar. You know McPherson, + our latest importation in the way of ordained men? Somehow he had got wind + of Boyle's trouble with the Presbytery in the East. McPherson is a fine + fellow and doing good work.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” assented the Superintendent, “he's a fine fellow, + but his conscience gives him a hard time now and then and works over time + for other People.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” continued the Convener, “McPherson came to me + about the matter in very considerable anxiety. I put him off, consulted + with McTavish and Murray, and we decided that Boyle was too good a man to + lose, and as to his heresy, it was not hurting Windermere as far as we + could learn. So it happened”—here the Convener pulled himself + up short to suppress the chuckle that threatened—“it happened + that just as the examination was beginning McPherson was called out, and + before he had returned the trials for license and ordination had been + sustained. I think on the whole McPherson was relieved, but there were + some funny moments after he came back into court.” + </p> + <p> + “Heresy-hunting doesn't flourish in the West,” said the + Superintendent. “There's no time for it. Some of the Eastern + Presbyteries have too many men with more time on their hands than sense in + their heads.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly there was no time lost in this case,” replied the + Convener. “We knew Boyle's scholarship was right. We knew his heart + was sound. We knew he was doing good work for us and we knew we wanted + him. We were not anxious to know anything else.” + </p> + <p> + “What we want for the West,” said the Superintendent, his + voice vibrating in a deeper tone, “is men who have the spirit of the + Gospel with the power to preach it and the love of their fellowmen, with + tact to bring it to bear upon them. A little heresy, more or less, won't + hurt them. Orthodoxy is my doxy, heterodoxy the other fellow's.” + </p> + <p> + “In Boyle's case, I believe he was helped by his touch of heresy. It + gave him a kind of brotherly feeling with all heretics. It was that more + than anything else that broke up the Freethinkers' Club.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said the Superintendent, bending eagerly forward, again + on the scent, “I didn't hear that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Convener, “Fink told me about it. Boyle + went to their meetings. He found them revelling in cheap scepticism of the + Ingersollian type. He took the attitude of a man seeking after a working + theory of life, and that attitude he stuck to—his real attitude, + mind you. He encouraged them to talk, combated none of their positions + and, as Hank said, 'coaxed them out into deep water and had them froggin' + for their lives. He was the biggest Freethinker in the bunch.' They + invited him to give a series of lectures. He did so, and that settled the + Freethinkers' Club. He never blamed them for doubting anything, and I + believe that's right.” The Convener was a bit of a heretic himself + and, consequently, carried a tender heart toward them. “Let a man + doubt till he finds his faith. And that was Boyle's line. He let them + doubt, but he insisted that they should have something positive to live + by.” + </p> + <p> + “Our friend Hank,” said the Superintendent, “would be + delighted.” + </p> + <p> + “Delighted? I should say so. But Hank 'joins trembling with his + mirth,' for Boyle got after him with the same demands.” + </p> + <p> + The Superintendent was filled with delighted pride in his missionary. + “That's the kind of man we want. He ought to do well in your + railroad field.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the Convener hesitatingly. “You think he + ought to go? Windermere will be furious. I wouldn't care to go in there + after Boyle is removed.” + </p> + <p> + “It is hard on Windermere, but Windermere mustn't be selfish. That + railroad work is most pressing, and only a man like Boyle will do. There + will be from three to five thousand men in there this winter between + Macleod and Kuskinook. We dare not neglect them. I have had correspondence + with Fahey, the General Manager for the Crow's Nest line, and he is not + unfriendly, though he would prefer us to send in medical missionaries. But + that work he and his contractors ought to look after.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a terrible state of things in the eastern division, I + fear, from all reports,” replied the Convener. “By the way, + there is a young English doctor working on that eastern division from the + MaCleod end who is making a great stir. Bailey is his name, I believe. He + began as a navvy, but finding a lot of fellows sick, and the doctor a poor + drunken fellow, Bailey, it appears, stood it as long as he could, then + finally threw him out of the camp and installed himself in his place. The + contractor backed him up and he has revolutionized the medical work in + that direction. Murray told me the most wonderful tales about him. He must + be a remarkable man. Gambles heavily, but hates whiskey and won't have it + near the camp. You ought to look him up when you go in.” + </p> + <p> + “I will. These camp doctors are a poor lot and the railroad people + ought to feel disgraced in employing them. They draw their fifty cents per + man a month, but their practice is shameful. It is a delicate matter, but + I shall take this up with Fahey when I see him. He is a rough diamond, but + he is fair and he won't stand any nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think Boyle ought to go in?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. On the whole, I think Boyle must go. These are a fine body of + men and must be looked after. A weaker man would make a mess of things. + Boyle is the man for the work. How did he seem? Cheerful?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I shouldn't call him so. But he is vastly better than when he + came to us. He was low in health, I think, and his face haunted me for + weeks. He strikes me as a man with a tragedy in his life.” + </p> + <p> + The Superintendent said nothing. He had, in large degree, the rare gift of + silence. Even with his trusted lieutenants he would break no confidence. + But before he slept that night he wrote two letters, and after he had + sealed and stamped them he placed them, with a pile already written, on + the table and sat back in his chair indulging himself in a few moments of + reverie. He saw the orderly, well-kept kitchen in the Old Stone Mill and, + bending over his letter a woman, dark-faced and stern, her wavy, black + hair heavily streaked with white, for during the past years the sword had + pierced her heart. He saw the light break upon her tragic Highland face as + she read of her boy and his well doing. With glad heart she had given him + up, and now, with humble joy, she would read that her offering had been + accepted. + </p> + <p> + The other letter brought to him the Macdougalls' drawing-room with all its + beautiful appointments and the face of a young girl pleading for her + friend. He still could see the quivering lips and hear the words of her + invincible faith, “I know that if he got at his own work again it + would save him.” He could still feel the grateful, timid pressure of + her fingers as he had pledged her his word that her desire should be + fulfilled. He had kept his word and her faith had not been put to shame. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI + </h2> + <h3> + THE CHALLENGE OF DEATH + </h3> + <p> + “Be aisy now, ye little divils. Sure ye'd think it wuz the ould Nick + himself ye're dodgin'.” + </p> + <p> + Thus Tommy Tate, teamster along the Tote road between the Maclennan camps, + admonished his half-broken bronchos. + </p> + <p> + “Stiddy now. The saints be good t'us! Will we iver git down this + hill alive? Hould back, will yez? There, now. The saints be praised! + that's over. How are ye now, Scotty? If ye're alive, kick me fut. Hivin be + praised! He's there yit,” said Tommy to himself. “We're on the + dump now, Scotty, an' we won't be long, me bhoy, till we see the lights av + Swipey's saloon. Git along there, will ye!” + </p> + <p> + The bronchos after their fifteen-mile drive along the unspeakable bush + roads, finding the smooth surface of the railway grade beneath their feet, + set off at a good lope. It was now quite dark. The snow was driving + bitterly in Tommy's face, but that stout little Irishman cared nothing for + himself. His concern was for the man lying under the buffalo robes in the + sleigh. Mile after mile the bronchos kept up their tireless lope, + encouraged by the cheery admonitions and the cracking whip of their + driver. + </p> + <p> + “Begob, but it's cowld enough to freeze the tail aff a brass monkey. + I'll jist be afther givin' the lad a taste.” + </p> + <p> + He tied the reins to the seat, gave his bronchos a parting lash, took a + flask from his pocket, and got down on his knees beside the sick man. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Scotty,” he said coaxingly, “take another taste. + It'll put life into ye.” The sick man tried to swallow once, twice, + choked hard, then shook his head. “Now, God be merciful! an' can't + ye swally at all? An' the good stuff it is, too! Thry once more, Scotty + darlin'. Ye'll need it an' we're not far aff now.” Once more the + sick man made a desperate effort. He got a little of the whiskey down, + then turned away his head. The tender-hearted little Irishman covered him + over carefully and climbed into his seat. “He couldn't swally it,” + he said to himself in an awed voice, putting the flask to his own lips, + “Begorra, an' it's near the Kingdom he must be!” To Tommy it + appeared an infallible sign of approaching dissolution that a man should + reject the contents of his flask. He gave himself to the business of + getting out of the bronchos all the speed they had. “Come on, now, + me bhoys!” he shouted through the gale, “what are ye lookin' + at? Sure, there's nothin' purtier than yerselves can be seen in the dark. + Hut, there! Kick, wud ye? Take that, thin, an' larn manners! Now ye're + beginin' to move! Hooray!” + </p> + <p> + So with voice and lash Tommy continued to urge his team till they came out + into a clearing at the far end of which twinkled the lights of the new + railroad town being built about Maclennan's camp No. 1. + </p> + <p> + “Hivin be praised! we're there at last. Begob, it's mesilf that + thought ye'd moved to the ind of nowhere. We're here, Scotty, me man. In + ten howly minutes we'll have ye by the fire an' the docthor puttin' life + into ye wid a spoon. Are ye there, Scotty?” But there was no + movement in response. “Howly Mary! Give us a little more speed!” + He stood up over his team, lashing and yelling till the tired beasts were + going at full gallop. As he drew near the camp the sound of singing came + on the driving wind. “Now the divil fly away wid the whiskey! It's + pay day an' the camp's loose. God send, there's a quiet spot to be found + near at hand!” + </p> + <p> + Through the driving snow could be seen the dim, black outlines of the + various structures of the pioneer town. First came the camp building, the + bunkhouse, grub-house, office, blacksmith shop, and beyond these the + glaring lights of a couple of saloons, while back nearer timber the + “red lights,” the curse and shame of railroad, lumber, and + mining camps in British Columbia then and unto this day, cast their + baleful lure through the snowy night. + </p> + <p> + At full gallop Tommy drove his bronchos up to the door of the first saloon + and before they were well stopped burst open the door, crying out, “Give + us a hand here, min, for the love o' God!” Swipey, the + saloon-keeper, came himself to the door. + </p> + <p> + “What have you there, Tommy?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “It's mesilf don't know. It wuz alive when we started out. Are ye + there, Scotty?” There was no answer. “The saints be good to + us! Are ye alive at all?” He lifted back the buffalo robe from the + sick man's face and he found him breathing heavily, but unable to speak. + “Where's yer doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't seen him raound,” said Swipey. “Have you, + Shorty?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the man called Shorty. “He's in there + with the boys.” + </p> + <p> + Tommy swore a great oath. “Like our own docthor, he is, the blank, + dirty suckers they are! Sure, they'd pull a bung hole out be the roots!” + </p> + <p> + “He's not that way,” replied Swipey, “our doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “Not much he ain't!” cried Shorty. “But he's into the + biggest game with 'Mexico' an' the boys ye ever seen in this camp.” + </p> + <p> + “Fer the love av Hivin git him!” cried Tommy. “The man + is dyin'. Here, min, let's git him in.” + </p> + <p> + “There's no place here for a sick man,” said the + saloon-keeper. + </p> + <p> + “What? He's dyin', I'm tellin' ye!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, this ain't no place to die in. We ain't got time.” An + angry murmur ran through the men about the door. “Take him up to the + bunk-house,” said the saloon-keeper to Tommy with a stream of oaths. + “What d'ye want to come monkeyin' raound my house for with a sick + man? How do you know what he's got?” + </p> + <p> + “What differ does it make what he's got?” retorted Tommy. + “Blank yer dirty face fer a bloody son of a sheep thief! It's plinty + of me money ye've had, but it's no more ye'll git! Where'll I take the man + to?” he cried, appealing to the crowd. “Ye can't let him die + on the street!” + </p> + <p> + Meantime Shorty had found the doctor in a small room back of the bar of + the “Frank” saloon, seated at a table surrounded by six or + eight men with a deck of cards in his hand, deep in a game of “Black + Jack” for which he held the pot. Opposite him sat “Mexico,” + the type of a Western professional gambler and desperado, his swarthy face + adorned with a pair of sweeping mustaches, its expressionless appearance + relieved by a pair of glittering black eyes. For nine hours the doctor had + not moved from his chair, playing any who might care to chip in to the + game. For the last hour he had been winning heavily, till, at his right + hand, he had a heap of new crisp bills lately from the Bank of Montreal, + having made but a slight pause in the grimy hands of the railroad men on + their way to his. At his left hand stood a glass of water with which, from + time to time, he moistened his lips. His face was like a mask of death, + colourless and empty of feeling, except that in the black eyes, deep-set + and blood-shot, there gleamed a light as of madness. The room was full of + men watching the game and waiting an opportunity to get into it. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor's wanted!” shouted Shorty, bursting into the room. + Not a head turned, and but for a slight flicker of impatience the doctor + remained unmoved. + </p> + <p> + “There's a man dyin' out here from No. 2,” continued Shorty. + </p> + <p> + “Let him go to hell, then, an' you go, too!” growled out + “Mexico,” who had for the greater part of the evening been + playing in bad luck, but who had refused to quit, waiting for the turn. + </p> + <p> + “He's out here in the snow,” continued Shorty, “an' he's + chokin' to death, an' we don't know what to do with him.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor looked up from his hand. “Put him in somewhere. I'll be + along soon.” + </p> + <p> + “They won't let him in anywhere. They're all afraid, an' he's + chokin' to death.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor turned down his cards. “What do you say? Choking to + death?” He passed his hand over his eyes. His professional instinct + began to assert itself. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” continued Shorty. “There's somethin' wrong with + him; he can't swallow. An' we can't git him in.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor pushed back his chair. “Here, men,” he said, + “I'm going to quit.” + </p> + <p> + A chorus of oaths and imprecations greeted his proposal. + </p> + <p> + “You can't quit now!” growled “Mexico” fiercely, + like a dog that is about to lose a bone. “You've got to give us a + chance.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, here's your chance then,” cried the doctor. “Let's + stop this tiddle-de-winks game. You can't have up more than a hundred + apiece. I'll put my pile against your bets, there's three thousand if + there's a dollar, and quit. Come on.” + </p> + <p> + The greatness of the opportunity staggered them. + </p> + <p> + Then they flung themselves upon it. “It's a go!” “Come + on!” “Give us your cards!” Quickly the cards were dealt. + One by one the men made up their hands. The crowd about crushed in upon + them in breathless excitement. Never had there been seen in that camp so + reckless a stake. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, show down,” growled “Mexico.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor laid down his cards face up. One by one they compared their + hands. He had won. With an oath “Mexico” made a grab for the + pile, reaching for his hip at the same time with the other hand, but the + doctor was first, and before anyone could move or speak “Mexico” + was lying in the corner, his toes quivering above his upturned chair. + </p> + <p> + “Look after the brute, someone. He doesn't understand the game,” + said the doctor with cool contempt, crumpling up the bills and pushing + them down into his pocket. “Where's your sick man?” + </p> + <p> + “This way, doctor,” said Shorty, hurrying out toward the + sleigh. The doctor passed him on a run. + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean?” he cried. “Why haven't you got + him inside somewhere?” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I say, docthor,” answered Tommy, “but the + bloody haythen wudn't let him in.” + </p> + <p> + “How's this, Swipey?” said the doctor sternly, turning to the + saloon-keeper, who still stood in the door. + </p> + <p> + “He's not comin' in here. How do I know what he's got?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take that responsibility,” replied the doctor. “In + he goes. Here, take him up on the robe, men. Steady, now.” + </p> + <p> + Swipey hesitated a moment, but before he could make up his mind what to + do, the doctor was leading his men with their burden past the bar door. + </p> + <p> + “Show us a room at the back, Swipey, upstairs. It must be warm. Be + quick about it.” + </p> + <p> + Swearing deep oaths, Swipey led the way. “It must be warm, eh? Want + a bath in it next, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “This will do,” said the doctor when they reached the room. + “Now, clear out, men. I want one of you. You'll do, Shorty.” + Without hurry, but with incredible speed and dexterity, he had the man + undressed and in bed between heated blankets. “Now, hold the light. + We'll take a look at his throat. Heavens above! Stay here, Shorty, till I + come back.” + </p> + <p> + He ran downstairs, and, bareheaded as he was, plunged through the storm to + his office, returning in a few minutes with his medical bag and two + hot-water bottles. + </p> + <p> + “We're too late, Shorty, I fear, but we'll do our best. Get these + full of hot water for me.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Doctor?” cried Shorty anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Go quick!” The doctor's voice was so sharp and stern that + before Shorty knew, he was half way downstairs with the hot-water bottles. + With swift, deft movements the doctor went about his work. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that's right. Now, Shorty, hold the light again. Now the + antitoxin. It's hours, days, too late, perhaps, hardly any use with this + mixed infection, but we'll try it. There. Now we'll touch up his heart. + Poor chap, he can't swallow. We'll give it to him this way.” Again + he filled his syringe from another bottle and gave the sick man a second + injection. “There. That ought to help him a bit. Now, what fool sent + a man in this condition twenty miles through a storm like this? Shorty, + don't let that teamster go away without seeing me. Have him in here within + an hour.” Shorty turned to go. “Wait. Do you know this man's + name?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard Tommy call him Scotty Anderson. He's from the old country, + I think.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. Now, go and get the teamster.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor turned to his struggle with death. “There is no chance, + no chance. The fools! The villains! It's sheer murder!” he muttered, + as he strove moment by moment to bring relief to the sick man fighting to + get his breath. + </p> + <p> + After working with him for half an hour the doctor had the satisfaction of + seeing him begin to breathe more easily. But by that time he had given up + all hope of saving the man's life. And it seemed to increase his rage to + see his patient slipping away from him. For do what he could, the heart + was failing rapidly and the doctor saw that it was simply a matter of + minutes. Before the hour had elapsed the dying man opened his eyes and + looked about. The doctor turned up the light and leaned over him, trying + to make out the words which poor Scotty was making such painful efforts to + utter. But no words could he hear. Finally the dying man pointed to the + chair on which his clothes lay. + </p> + <p> + “You want something out of your pocket?” inquired the doctor. + The eyes gave assent. One by one the doctor held up the articles he found + in the pockets of the clothing till he came to a letter, then the eyes + that had followed every movement expressed satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want me to read it?” + </p> + <p> + It was from the mother to her son Andy in far Canada, breathing gratitude + for gifts of money from time to time, pride in his well doing, love + without measure, and prayers unceasing. It took all the doctor's fortitude + to keep his voice clear and steady. The eloquent eyes never moved from his + face till the reading was finished. Then the doctor put the letter into + his big, hairy hand so muscular and so feeble. The fingers closed upon it + and with difficulty carried it to the man's bosom. For a moment the eyes + remained closed as if in peace, but only for a moment. Once more they + rested entreatingly upon the doctor's face. + </p> + <p> + “Something else in your pocket?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor continued drawing forth the articles one by one till he came to + a large worn pocketbook. + </p> + <p> + “This?” + </p> + <p> + With an effort the head nodded an affirmation. From the innermost pocket + he drew a little photograph of a young girl. A light came into the eyes of + the dying man. He took the photograph which the doctor placed in his hand + and carried it painfully to his lips. Once more the eyes began to + question. + </p> + <p> + “You want something else from your pocketbook? If so, close your + eyes.” The eyes remained wide open. “No? You want me to do + something for you? To write?” At once the eyes closed. “I + shall write to your mother and send all your things and tell them about + you.” A smile spread over the face and the eyes closed as if + content. In a few minutes, however, they opened wide again. In vain the + doctor tried to catch the meaning. The lips began to move. Putting his ear + close, the doctor caught the word “Thank.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank who? The teamster?” + </p> + <p> + The man moved his hand and touched the doctor's with his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Thank me? My dear fellow, I only wish I could help you,” said + the doctor. “Anything else?” + </p> + <p> + The eyes looked upward toward the ceiling, then rested beseechingly upon + the doctor's face again. Vainly the doctor sought to gather his meaning, + till, with a mighty effort, poor Scotty tried to speak. Once more, putting + his ear close to the lips, the doctor caught the words, “Mother—home,” + and again the eyes turned upward toward the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “You wish me to tell your mother that you are going home?” And + once more a glad smile lit up the distorted face. + </p> + <p> + For some minutes there was silence in the room. Up from the bar, through + the thin partition, came the sounds of oaths and laughter and drunken + song. The doctor cursed them all below his breath and turned toward the + door. A spasm of coughing brought him back to his patient's side. After + the spasm had passed the sick man lay still, his eyes closed, and his + breath becoming shorter every moment. Once again the eyes made their + appeal, and the doctor hastened to seek their meaning. Listening intently, + he heard the word, “Pray.” The doctor's pale face flushed + quickly and as quickly paled again. He shook his head, saying, “I'm + no good at that.” Once more the poor lips made an effort to speak, + and again the doctor caught the words, “Jesus, tender—.” + It had been the doctor's child prayer, too. But for years no prayer had + passed his lips. He could not bring himself to do it. It would be sheer + mockery. But the eyes were fixed upon his face beseeching, waiting for him + to begin. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said the doctor through his set teeth, “I'll + do it.” + </p> + <p> + And above the ribald sounds that broke in from below on the solemn + silence, the doctor's voice, low but very clear, rose in the verses of + that ancient child's prayer, “Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me.” + At the third verse, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Let my sins be all forgiven, + Bless the friends I love so well, + Take me when I die to heaven, + Happy there with Thee to dwell.” + </pre> + <p> + there was a deep breath from the sick man, a sigh as of great content, and + then all was still. Ere the prayer had been uttered the answer had come, + “Happy there with Thee to dwell.” Poor Scotty! Out from the + sickness and the pain, from the wretchedness and the sin, he had been + taken to the place where the blessed dwell and whence they go no more out + forever. + </p> + <p> + Silently the doctor composed the limbs, his eyes dim with unusual tears. + As he was thus busied he heard a sniffle behind him and, turning sharply + about, he found Tommy and Shorty standing at the door, both wiping their + eyes and struggling with their sobs. + </p> + <p> + “Confound you, Shorty!” burst forth the doctor wrathfully, + “what in the mischief are you doing there? Come in, you fool. Did + you ever see a dead man before?” The doctor was clearly in a rage. + During the weeks Shorty had known him in camp he had never seen him show + anything but a perfectly cold and self-composed face. “Is this the + teamster?” continued the doctor. “Come in here. You see that + man? Someone has murdered him. Who sent him down here through this storm? + How long had he been ill? Have you a doctor up there? Are there any more + sick? Why don't you speak up? What's your name?” In an angry flood + the questions poured forth upon the hapless Tommy, who stood speechless. + “Why don't you speak?” said the doctor again. + </p> + <p> + Recovering himself, Tommy began with the question which seemed to require + least thought to answer. “Thomas Tate, sir, av ye plaze. An' sure + it's not me ye'd be blamin' at all. Didn't I tell the foreman the man wuz + dyin'? An' niver a breath did I draw fer the last twinty miles, an' up an' + down the hills like the divil wuz afther me wid a poker.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you no doctor up there?” + </p> + <p> + “Docthor, is it? If that's what ye call him, fer the drunken baste + that he is, wallowin' 'round like Micky Murphy's pig, axin' pardon av the + pig.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there any more sick?” + </p> + <p> + “Sick? Bedad, they're all sick wid fear, an' half a dozen worse than + poor Scotty there, God rest his sowl!” + </p> + <p> + The doctor thought a minute, then turning to Shorty he said, speaking + rapidly, “Go and bring to this room the foreman and Swipey. And say + not a word to anyone, mind that. And you,” he said, turning to + Tommy, “can you start back in an hour?” + </p> + <p> + “I can that same, if I must.” + </p> + <p> + “You know the road. We'll get another team and start within an hour. + Get something to eat.” + </p> + <p> + In a short time both the foreman and the saloon-keeper were in the room. + </p> + <p> + “This man,” said the doctor, “is dead. Diphtheria. There + is no fear, Swipey. Shut that door. But you must have him buried at once, + and you will both see the necessity of having it done quietly. I shall + fumigate this room. All this clothing must be burned and there will be no + further danger. You will see about this to-morrow. I am going up to No. 2 + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “To-night, doctor!” cried the foreman. “It's blowing a + regular blizzard. Can't you wait till morning?” + </p> + <p> + “There are men sick at No. 2,” said the doctor. “The + chances are it's diphtheria.” + </p> + <p> + In an hour's time Tommy was at the door with the best team the camp + possessed. + </p> + <p> + “Have you had something to eat, Tommy?” inquired the doctor, + stepping out from the saloon. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I have,” replied Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “All right, then. Give me the lines. You can have a sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if I know it, begob!” said Tommy. “I'll stay wid + yez. It's mesilf that knows a man whin I see him.” + </p> + <p> + And off into the blizzard and the night they sped, the doctor rejoicing to + find in the call to a fight with death that excitement without which it + seemed he could not live. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII + </h2> + <h3> + THE FIGHT WITH DEATH + </h3> + <p> + At Camp No. 2 Maclennan had struck what was called a hard proposition. The + line ran straight through a muskeg out of which the bottom seemed to have + dropped, and Maclennan himself, with his foreman, Craigin, was almost in + despair. For every day they were held back by the muskeg meant a serious + reduction in the profits of Maclennan's contract. + </p> + <p> + The foreman, Craigin, was a man from “across the line,” + skilled in railroad building, selected chiefly because of his reputation + as a “driver.” He was a man of great physical force and + indomitable will, and gifted in large measure with the power of command. + He knew his business thoroughly and knew just how to get the most out of + the machinery and men at his command. He himself was an untiring worker, + and no man on the line could get a bigger day out of his force than could + Craigin. His men he treated as part of his equipment. He believed in what + was called his “scrap-heap policy.” When any part of the + machinery ceased to do first-class work it was at once discarded, and, as + with the machinery, so it was with the men. A sick man was a nuisance in + the camp and must be got rid of with all possible speed. Craigin had + little faith in human nature, and when a man fell ill his first impulse + was to suspect him of malingering, and hence the standing order of the + camp in regard to a sick man was that he should get to work or be sent out + of the camp. Hence the men thoroughly hated their foreman, but as + thoroughly they dreaded to fall under his displeasure. + </p> + <p> + The camp stood in the midst of a swamp, thick with underbrush of spruce + and balsam and tamarack. The site had been selected after a month of dry + weather in the fall, consequently the real condition of the ground was not + discovered until the late rains had swollen the streams from the + mountain-sides and filled up the intervening valleys and swamps. After the + frost had fallen the situation was vastly improved, but they all waited + the warm weather of spring with anxiety. + </p> + <p> + On the crest of the hill which overlooked the camp the doctor halted the + team. + </p> + <p> + “Where are your stables, Tommy?” + </p> + <p> + “Over there beyant, forninst the cook-house.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord!” murmured the doctor. “How many men have you + here?” + </p> + <p> + “Between two an' three hundred, wid them that are travellin' the + road.” + </p> + <p> + “What are your sanitary arrangements?” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean how do you—what are your arrangements for keeping the + camp clean, free from dirt and smells? You can't have three hundred men + living together without some sanitary arrangements.” + </p> + <p> + “Begob, it's ivery man fer himsilf. Clane yersilf as ye can through + the week, an' on Sundays boil yer clothes in soap suds, if ye kin git near + the kittles. But, bedad, it's the lively time we have wid the crathurs.” + </p> + <p> + “And is that the bunk-house close up to the cookery?” + </p> + <p> + “It is that same.” + </p> + <p> + “And why was it built so close as that?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure there wuz no ground left by raison av the muskeg at the back + av it.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor gave it up. “Drive on,” he said. “But what a + beautiful spot for a camp right there on that level.” + </p> + <p> + “Beautiful, is it? Faith, it's not beautiful that Craigin calls it, + fer ivery thaw the bottom goes clane out av it till ye can't git round fer + mud an' the dump fallin' through to the antipods,” replied Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but up on this flat here, Tommy, under the big pines, that + would be a fine spot for the camp.” + </p> + <p> + “It wud that same. Bad luck to the man who set it where it is.” + </p> + <p> + As they drove into the camp the cook came out with some refuse which he + dumped down on a heap at the door. The doctor shuddered as he thought of + that heap when the sun shone upon it in the mild weather. A huge Swede + followed the cook out with a large red muffler wrapped round his throat. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Yonie!” cried Tommy. “What's afther gittin' ye + up so early?” + </p> + <p> + “It is no sleep for dis,” cried Yonie thickly, pointing to his + throat. + </p> + <p> + The doctor sprang from the sleigh. “Let me look at your throat.” + </p> + <p> + “It's the docthor, Yonie,” explained Tommy, whereupon the + Swede submitted to the examination. + </p> + <p> + The doctor turned him toward the east, where the sun was just peeping + through the treetops, and looked into his throat. “My man, you go + right back to bed quick.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it will not to bed,” replied Yonie. “Big work + to-day, boss say. He not like men sick.” + </p> + <p> + “You hear me,” said the doctor sharply. “You go back to + bed. Where's your doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “He slapes in the office between meals. Yonder,” said Tommy, + pointing the way. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind now. Where are your sick men?” + </p> + <p> + “De seeck mans?” replied the cook. “She's be hall overe. + On de bunk-house, on de cook shed. Dat is imposseeb to mak' de cook for + den seeck mans hall aroun'.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Do they sit around where you are cooking?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainment. Dat's warm plas. De bunkhouse she's col.' Poor feller! + But she's mak' me beeg troub'. She's cough, cough, speet, speet. Bah! + dat's what you call lak' one beas'.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor strode into the cook-house. By the light of the lantern + swinging from the roof he found three men huddled over the range, the + picture of utter misery. He took down the lantern. + </p> + <p> + “Here, cook, hold this please, one moment. Allow me to look at your + throats, men.” + </p> + <p> + “Dis de docteur, men,” said the cook. + </p> + <p> + A quick glance he gave at each throat, his face growing more stern with + each examination. + </p> + <p> + “Boys, you must all get to bed at once. You must keep away from this + cook-house or you'll poison the whole camp.” + </p> + <p> + “Where can we go, doctor? The bunk-house would freeze you and the + stink of it would make a well man sick.” + </p> + <p> + “And is there no place else?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Unless it's the stables,” said another man; “they're + not quite so bad.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sit here just now. We'll see about it. But first let me give + you something.” He opened his bag, took out his syringe. “Here, + Yonie, we'll begin with you. Roll up your sleeve.” And in three + minutes he had given all four an antitoxin injection. “Now, we'll + see the doctor. By the way what's his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Hain,” said the cook, “dat's his nem.” + </p> + <p> + “Haines,” explained one of the men. + </p> + <p> + “Dat's what I say,” said the cook indignantly, “Hain.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor passed out, went toward the office, knocked at the door, and, + getting no response, opened it and walked in. + </p> + <p> + “Be the powers, Narcisse!” cried Tommy, as the cook stood + looking after the doctor, “it's little I iver thought I'd pity that + baste, but Hivin save him now! He'll be thinkin' the divil's come fer him. + An' begob, he'll be wishin' it wuz before he's through wid him.” + </p> + <p> + But Dr. Bailey was careful to observe all the rules that the punctilious + etiquette of the profession demanded. He found Dr. Haines sleeping heavily + in his clothes. He had had a bad night. He was uneasy at the outbreak of + sickness in his camp, and more especially was he seized with an anxious + foreboding in regard to the sick man who had been sent out the day before. + Besides this, the foreman had cursed him for a drunken fool in the + presence of the whole camp with such vigour and directness that he had + found it necessary to sooth his ruffled feelings with large and frequent + doses of stimulant brought into the camp for strictly medical purposes. + With difficulty he was roused from his slumber. When fully awake he was + aware of a young man with a very pale and very stern face standing over + him. Without preliminary Dr. Bailey began: + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Haines, you have some very sick men in this camp.” + </p> + <p> + “Who the deuce are you?” replied Haines, staring up at him. + </p> + <p> + “They call me Dr. Bailey. I have come in from along the line.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Bailey?” said Haines, sitting up. “Oh, I've heard + of you.” His tone indicated a report none too favourable. In fact, + it was his special chum and confrere who had been ejected from his + position in the Gap camp through Dr. Bailey's vigorous measures. + </p> + <p> + “You have some very sick men in the camp,” repeated Dr. + Bailey, his voice sharp and stern. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a little tonsilitis,” replied Haines in an indifferent + tone. + </p> + <p> + “Diphtheria,” said Bailey shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Diphtheria be hanged!” replied Haines insolently; “I + examined them carefully last night.” + </p> + <p> + “They have diphtheria this morning. I have just taken the liberty of + looking into their throats.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce you have! I like your impudence! Who sent you in here to + interfere with my practice, young man? Where did you get your professional + manners?” Dr. Haines was the older man and resented the intrusion of + this smooth-faced young stranger, who added to the crime of his youth that + of being guilty of a serious breach of professional etiquette. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to apologize for looking at your patients,” said Dr. + Bailey. “I came in thinking I might be of some assistance in dealing + with this outbreak of diphtheria, and I was naturally anxious to see—” + </p> + <p> + “Diphtheria!” blurted Haines. “Nothing of the sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Haines, the man you sent out last night had it.” + </p> + <p> + “HAD it?” + </p> + <p> + “He died an hour after arriving at No. 1.” + </p> + <p> + “Dead? Cursed fool! He WOULD go against my will.” + </p> + <p> + “Against your will? Would you let a man in the last stages of + diphtheria leave this camp against your will with the company's team?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I knew he shouldn't go. But he wanted to go himself, and the + foreman would have him out.” + </p> + <p> + “There are at least four men going about the camp—they are now + in the cook-house where the breakfast is being prepared—who are + suffering from a severe attack of diphtheria.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you propose? What can I do in this cursed hole?” said + Dr. Haines petulantly. “No appliances, no means of isolation, no + nurses, nothing. Beside, I have half a dozen camps to look after. What can + I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you ask me?” The scorn in the voice was only too apparent. + “Isolate the infected at least.” + </p> + <p> + Haines swore deeply to himself while, with trembling hand, he poured out a + cupful of whiskey from a bottle standing on a convenient shelf. “Isolate? + How can I isolate? There's no building in which—” + </p> + <p> + “Make one.” + </p> + <p> + “Make one? Young man, do you know what you are talking about? Do you + know where you are? Do you know who is running this camp?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But I do know that these men must be isolated within an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible! I tell you it is impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Haines, an inquest upon the man sent out from this camp last + night would result in the verdict of manslaughter. There was no inquest. + There will be on the next man that dies if there is any neglect.” + </p> + <p> + The seriousness of the situation began to dawn upon Haines. “Well,” + he said, “if you think you can isolate them, go ahead. I'll see the + foreman.” + </p> + <p> + “Every minute is precious. I gave those four men antitoxin. Are + there others?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know,” Haines growled, as with an oath he went out, + followed by Dr. Bailey. Just outside the door they met the foreman. + </p> + <p> + “This is Dr. Bailey, Mr. Craigin.” Craigin growled out a + salutation. “Dr. Bailey here says these sick men have diphtheria.” + </p> + <p> + “How does he know?” inquired Craigin shortly. + </p> + <p> + “He has examined them this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't know they have diphtheria?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Haines weakly. + </p> + <p> + “These men have diphtheria, Mr. Craigin, without a doubt, and they + ought to be isolated at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Isolated? How?” + </p> + <p> + “A separate camp must be built and someone appointed to attend them.” + </p> + <p> + “A separate camp!” exclaimed Craigin; “I'll see them + blanked first! Look here, Haines, let's have no nonsense about this. I'm + three weeks, yes, a month, behind with this job here. This blank, blank + muskeg is knocking the whole contract endways. We can't spare a single man + half a day. And more than that, you go talking diphtheria in this camp and + you can't hold the men here an hour. It's all I can do to hold them as it + is.” And Craigin went off into an elaborate course of profanity + descriptive of the various characteristics of the men in his employ. + </p> + <p> + “But what is to be done?” asked Haines helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “Send 'em out to the steel. They're better in the hospital, anyway. + It's fine to-day. We'll send every man Jack out to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “These men can't be moved,” said Dr. Bailey in a quiet voice. + “You sent a man out yesterday and he's dead.” + </p> + <p> + “He was bound to go himself. We didn't send him. Anyway, it's none + of YOUR business. Look here, Haines, you know me. I'm not going to have + any of this blank nonsense of isolation hospitals and all that blankety + blank rot. Dose 'em up good and send 'em out.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Haines stood silent, too evidently afraid of the foreman. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Craigin, it would be murder,” said Dr. Bailey, “sure + murder. Some of them might get through. Some would be sure to die. The + consequences to those responsible—to Dr. Haines, for instance—would + be serious. I am quite sure he will never give orders that these men + should be moved.” + </p> + <p> + “He won't, eh? You just wait till you see him do it. Haines will + give the orders right enough.” Craigin's laugh was like the growl of + a bear. “There's a reason, ain't there, Haines? Now you hear me. + Those men are going out to-day, and so are you, you blank, blank + interferin' skunk.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Bailey smiled sweetly at Craigin. “You may call me what you + please just now, Mr. Craigin. Before the day is over you won't have enough + names left. For I tell you that these men suffering from diphtheria are + going to stay here, and are going to be properly cared for.” + </p> + <p> + Craigin was white. That this young pale-faced stranger should presume to + come into his domain, where his word was wont to run as absolute law, + filled him with rage unspeakable. But there were serious issues at stake, + and with a supreme effort he controlled the passionate longing to spring + upon this upstart and throttle him. He turned sharply to Haines. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Haines, you think these men can go out to-day?” + </p> + <p> + Haines hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “You understand me, Haines; these men go out or—” + </p> + <p> + Haines was evidently in some horrible dread of the foreman. A moment more + he paused and then surrendered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hang it, Bailey, I don't think they're so terribly ill. I guess + they can go out.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Haines,” said Craigin, “is that your decision?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think so.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Craigin, with a triumphant sneer. He turned + to Tommy, who was standing near with half a dozen men who had just come + out from breakfast. “Here you, Tommy, get a couple of teams ready + and all the buffalo robes you need and be ready to start in an hour. Do + you hear?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Tommy, turning slowly away. + </p> + <p> + “Tommy,” called Dr. Bailey in a sharp, clear tone, “you + took a man out from this camp yesterday. Tell the men here what happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, they all know it,” said Tommy, who had already told the + story of poor Scotty's death and of the doctor's efforts to save him. + “An' it's a fine bhoy he wuz, poor Scotty, an' niver a groan out av + him all the way down, an' not able to swally a taste whin I gave it to + him.” + </p> + <p> + Craigin sprang toward Tommy in a fury. “Here you blank, blank, + blank! Do what I tell you! And the rest of you men, what are you gawkin' + at here? Get to work!” + </p> + <p> + The men gave back, and some began to move away. Dr. Bailey walked quickly + past Craigin into the midst of the group. + </p> + <p> + “Men, I want to say something to you.” His voice commanded + their instant attention. “There are half a dozen of your comrades in + this camp sick with diphtheria. I came up here to help. They ought to be + isolated to prevent the spread of the disease, and they ought to be cared + for at once. The foreman proposes to send them out. One went out + yesterday. He died last night. If these men go out to-day some of them + will die, and it will be murder. What do you say? Will you let them go?” + A wrathful murmur ran through the crowd, which was being rapidly increased + every moment by others coming from breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “Get to your work, you fellows, or get your time!” shouted + Craigin, pouring out oaths. “And you,” turning toward Dr. + Bailey, “get out of this camp.” + </p> + <p> + “I am here in consultation with Dr. Haines,” replied Dr. + Bailey. “He has asked my advice, and I am giving it.” + </p> + <p> + “Send him out, Haines. And be quick about it!” + </p> + <p> + By this time the men were fully roused. One of them came forward. + </p> + <p> + “What do you propose should be done, Doctor?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to work, McLean?” shouted Craigin furiously. + “If not, go and get your time.” + </p> + <p> + “We're going to talk this matter over a minute, Mr. Craigin,” + said McLean quietly. “It's a serious matter. We are all concerned in + it, and we'll decide in a few minutes what is to be done.” + </p> + <p> + “Every man who is not at work in five minutes will get his time,” + said Craigin, and he turned away and passed into the office. + </p> + <p> + “What do you propose should be done, Doctor?” said McLean, + ignoring the foreman. + </p> + <p> + “Build a camp where the sick men can be placed by themselves and + where they can be kept from infecting the rest of the camp. Half a day's + work of a dozen men will do it. If we send them out some of them will die. + Besides, it is almost certain that some more of you have already been + infected.” + </p> + <p> + At once eager discussion began. Some, in dread terror of the disease, were + for sending out the sick immediately, but the majority would not listen to + this inhuman proposal. Finally McLean came again to Dr. Bailey. + </p> + <p> + “The men want to know if you can guarantee that the disease can be + stamped out here if you have a separate camp for an hospital?” + </p> + <p> + “We can guarantee nothing,” replied Dr. Bailey. “But it + is altogether the safer way to fight the disease. And I am of the opinion + that we can stamp it out.” The doctor's air and tone of quiet + confidence, far more than his words, decided the men's action. In a minute + more it was agreed that the sick men should stay and that they would all + stand together in carrying out the plan of isolation. + </p> + <p> + “If he gives any of us time,” said Tommy, “we'll all + take it, begob.” + </p> + <p> + “No, men,” said the doctor, “let's not make trouble. I + know Mr. Maclennan slightly, and he's a just man, and he'll do what's + fair. Besides, we don't want to interfere with the job. Give me a dozen + men—one must be able to cook—and in half a day the work will + be finished. I will be personally responsible for everything.” + </p> + <p> + At this point Craigin came out. “Here's your time, McLean,” he + said, thrusting a time check at him. + </p> + <p> + McLean took it without a word and went over and stood by Dr. Bailey's + side. + </p> + <p> + “Who are coming?” called out McLean. + </p> + <p> + “All of us,” cried a voice. “Pick out your men, McLean.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said McLean, looking over the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “I'm wan,” said Tommy, running over to the doctor's side. + “I seen him shtand by Scotty whin the lad wus fightin' fer his life, + an' if I'm tuk it's him I want beside me.” + </p> + <p> + One by one McLean called his men, each taking his place beside the doctor, + while the rest of the men moved off to work. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Craigin, I am going to use these men for half a day.” + said Dr. Bailey. + </p> + <p> + For answer Craigin, in mad rage, throwing aside all regard for + consequences, rushed at him, but half a dozen men were in his path before + he had taken the second step. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on, Mr. Craigin,” said McLean, “we want no + violence. We're going to do what we think right in this matter, so you may + as well make up your mind to it.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mr. Craigin,” continued the doctor, “we shall need + some things out of your stores.” + </p> + <p> + Craigin stepped back from the crowd and on to the office steps. “Your + time is waiting you, men. And listen to me. If any man goes near that + there storehouse door, I'll drop him in his tracks. I've got the law and + I'll do it, so help me God.” He went into the office and returned in + a moment with a Winchester, which he loaded in full view of the men. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind him, boys,” said the doctor cheerily, “I'm + going to have breakfast. Come, Tommy, I want you.” + </p> + <p> + In fifteen minutes he came out, with the key of the storehouse in his + hand, to find the men still waiting his orders and Craigin on guard with + his Winchester. + </p> + <p> + “Don't go just yet,” said McLean to the doctor in a low voice, + “we'll get round him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he'll not shoot,” said Dr. Bailey. + </p> + <p> + “He will. He will. I knew him in Michigan. He'll shoot and he'll + kill, too.” + </p> + <p> + For a single instant the doctor hesitated. His men were about him waiting + his lead. Craigin with his rifle held them all in check. A moment's + thought and his decision was taken. He stepped toward Craigin and said in + a clear voice, “Mr. Craigin, these stores are necessary to save + these men's lives. I want them and I'm going to take them. Murder me, if + you like.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear me, men.” Craigin's voice was cold and deliberate. + “These stores are in my charge. I am an officer of the law. If any + man lays his hand on that latch I'll shoot him, so help me God.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear me, Mr. Craigin,” replied Dr. Bailey. “I'm here in + consultation with Dr. Haines, who has turned over this matter to my + charge. In a case of this kind the doctor's orders are supreme. This whole + camp is under his authority. These stores are necessary, and I am going to + get them.” He well knew the weak spot in his position, but he + counted on Craigin's nerve breaking down. In that, however, he was + mistaken. Without haste, but without hesitation, he walked toward the + storehouse door. When three paces from it Craigin's voice arrested him. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on there! Put your hand on that door and, as God lives, you're + a dead man!” + </p> + <p> + Without a word the doctor turned again toward the door. The men with + varying cries rushed toward the foreman. Craigin threw up his rifle. + Immediately a shot rang out and Craigin fell to the snow, the smoking + rifle dropping from his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Begob, I niver played baseball,” cried Tommy, rushing in and + seizing the rifle, “but many's the time I've had the divarsion in + the streets av Dublin of bringin' down the polismen wid a brick.” + </p> + <p> + A heavy horseshoe, heaved with sure aim, had saved the doctor's life. They + carried Craigin into the office and laid him on the bed, the blood + streaming from a ghastly wound in his scalp. Quickly Dr. Bailey got to + work and before Craigin had regained consciousness the wound was sewed up + and dressed. Then giving him over to the charge of Haines, Dr. Bailey went + about the work he had in hand. + </p> + <p> + Before the noon hour had arrived the eight men who were discovered to be + in various stages of diphtheria were comfortably housed in a roomy + building rudely constructed of logs, tar paper, and tarpaulin, with a + small cook-house attached and Tommy Tate in charge. And before night had + fallen the process of disinfecting the bedding, clothing, bunk-house, and + cookery was well under way, while all who had been in immediate contact + with the infected men had been treated by the doctor with antitoxin as a + precautionary measure. + </p> + <p> + Thus the first day's campaign against death closed with the issue still + undecided, but the chances for winning were certainly greater than they + had been. What the result would be when Craigin was able to take command + again, no one could say. But in the meantime, for the next two days, the + work on the dump was prosecuted with all vigour, the men feeling in honour + bound to support the doctor in that part of the fight which fell to them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII + </h2> + <h3> + THE MEDICAL SUPERINTENDENT OF THE CROW'S NEST + </h3> + <p> + Mr. Maclennan was evidently worried. His broad, good-humoured face, which + usually wore a smile indicating content with the world and especially with + himself, was drawn into a frown. The muskeg was beating him, and he hated + to be beaten. He was bringing in General Manager Fahey to have a look at + things. It was important to awaken the sympathy of the General Manager, + if, indeed, this could be accomplished. But the General Manager had a way + of insisting upon his contracts being fulfilled, and this stretch in + Maclennan's charge was the one spot which the General Manager feared would + occasion delay. + </p> + <p> + “There's the hole,” said Maclennan, as they turned down the + hill into the swamp. “Into that hole,” he continued, pointing + to where the dump ended abruptly in the swamp, “I can't tell you how + many millions of carloads have been dumped. I used to brag that I was + never beaten in my life, but that hole—” + </p> + <p> + “Maclennan, that hole has got to be filled up, bridged, or trestled, + and we can't wait too long, either.” + </p> + <p> + The General Manager's name was a synonym for a relentless sort of energy + in railroad construction that refused to consider obstacles. Nothing could + stand in his way. The thing behind which he put the weight of his + determination simply had to move in one direction or other. The contractor + that failed expected no mercy, and received none. + </p> + <p> + “We're doing our best,” said Maclennan, “and we will + continue to do our best. Hello! what's this? What's Craigin doing up here? + Hold up, Sandy. We'll look in.” + </p> + <p> + At the door of the hospital Dr. Haines met him. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Doctor! What have you got here?” + </p> + <p> + “Isolation hospital,” replied the doctor shortly. + </p> + <p> + “What hospital?” + </p> + <p> + “Isolation.” + </p> + <p> + “Has Craigin gone mad all at once?” + </p> + <p> + “Craigin has nothing to do with it. There's a new boss in camp.” + </p> + <p> + A look of wrathful amazement crossed Maclennan's countenance. Haines was + beginning to enjoy himself. + </p> + <p> + “A new boss? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “What I say. A young fellow calling himself Dr. Bailey came into + this camp three days ago, raised the biggest kind of a row, laid up + Craigin with a broken head, and took charge of the camp.” Maclennan + stood in amazement looking from Haines to the General Manager. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Bailey? You mean Bailey from No. 1? What has he got to do with + it? And how did Craigin come to allow him?” + </p> + <p> + “Ask Craigin,” replied Haines. + </p> + <p> + “What have you got in there, Doctor?” asked Mr. Fahey. + </p> + <p> + “Diphtheria patients.” + </p> + <p> + “How many?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we began with eight three days ago and we've ten to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, this knocks me out,” said Maclennan. “Where's + Craigin, anyway?” + </p> + <p> + “He's down in his own room in bed.” + </p> + <p> + Maclennan turned and got into the sleigh. “Come on, Fahey,” he + said, “let's go down. Something extraordinary has happened. You + can't believe that fellow Haines. What are you laughing at?” + </p> + <p> + Fahey was too much of an Irishman to miss seeing the humour of any + situation. “I can't help it, Maclennan. I'll bet you a box of cigars + that man Bailey is an Irishman. He must be a whirlwind. But it's no + laughing matter,” continued the General Manager, sobering up. + “This has a very serious aspect. There are a whole lot of men sick + in our camps. You contractors don't pay enough attention to your health.” + </p> + <p> + “Health! When you're driving us like all possessed there's no time + to think of health.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Maclennan, it's bad policy. You have got to think of + health. The newspapers are beginning to talk. Why, look at that string of + men you met going out. Of course, the great majority of them never should + have come in. Hundreds of men are here who never used either shovel or + axe. They cut themselves, get cold, rheumatism, or something; they're not + fit for their work. All the same, we get blamed. But my theory is that + every camp should have an hospital, with three main hospitals along this + branch. There's one at Macleod. It is filled, overflowing. A young + missionary fellow, Boyle, has got one running out at Kuskinook supported + by some Toronto ladies. It's doing fine work, too; but it's overflowing. + There's a young lady in charge there, a Miss Robertson, and she's a daisy. + The trouble there is you can't get the fellows to leave, and I don't blame + them. If ever I get sick send me to her. I tell you, Maclennan, if we had + two or three first-class men, with three main hospitals, a branch in every + camp, we'd keep the health department in first-class condition. The men + would stay with us. We'd get altogether better results.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right,” said Maclennan, “but where are you + to get your first-class men? They come to us with letters from Directors + or some big bug or other. You've got to appoint them. Look at that man + Haines. He doesn't know his work and he's drunk half the time. Dr. Bailey + seems to be different. He certainly knows his work and he never touches + whiskey. I got him up from the Gap to No. 1. In two weeks' time he had + things in great shape. Funny thing, too, when he's fighting some sickness + or busy he's all right, but when things get quiet he hits the green table + hard. He's a wonder at poker, they say.” + </p> + <p> + The General Manager pricked up his ears. “Poker, eh? I'll remember + that.” + </p> + <p> + “But this here business is going too far,” continued + Maclennan. “I didn't hire him to run my camps. Well, we'll see what + Craigin has to say.” + </p> + <p> + As they drove into the camp they were met by Narcisse, the cook. + </p> + <p> + “Bo' jour, M'sieu Maclenn'. You want something for hit?” + </p> + <p> + “Good-day, cook,” said Maclennan. “Yes, we'll take a cup + of tea in a few minutes. I want to see Mr. Craigin.” + </p> + <p> + Narcisse drew near Maclennan and in subdued voice announced, “M'sieu + Craigin, he's not ver' well. He's hurt hisself. He's lie on bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's the matter with him?” + </p> + <p> + Narcisse shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, some leet' troub'. You pass on + de office you see de docteur.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Haines is up at the hospital. We just saw him.” + </p> + <p> + “Hain!” said Narcisse, with scorn indescribable. “Dat's + no docteur for one horse. Bah! De mans go seeck, seeck, he can noting. He + know noting. He's get on beeg drunk! Non! Nodder docteur. He's come in, + fin' tree, four mans seeck on de troat, cough, cough, sore, bad. Fill up + de cook-house. Can't do noting. Sainte Marie! Dat new docteur, he's come + on de camp, he's mak' one leet' fight, he's beeld hospital an' get dose + seeck mans all nice an' snug. Bon. Good. By gar, dat's good feller!” + </p> + <p> + The smile broadened on Fahey's face. “I say, Maclennan, he's + captured your camp. He's got the cook, dead sure.” + </p> + <p> + The smile didn't help Maclennan's temper. He opened the office door and + passed into Craigin's private room at the back. Here he found Dr. Bailey + in charge. As he opened the door the doctor put up his hand for silence + and backed him out into the office. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Mr. Maclennan,” he said, “he's asleep and + must not be disturbed.” + </p> + <p> + Maclennan shook hands with him with a cold “How are you,” and + introduced him to Mr. Fahey. + </p> + <p> + “Is Mr. Craigin ill?” inquired Fahey innocently. + </p> + <p> + “He has met with a slight accident,” replied the doctor. + “He is doing well and will be about in a day or two.” + </p> + <p> + “Accident?” snorted Maclennan; then clearing his throat as for + a speech he began in a loud tone, “Dr. Bailey, I must say—” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” said the doctor, opening the office door and + marshalling them outside, “we'd better go somewhere else if we are + going to talk. It is important that my patient should be kept perfectly + quiet.” The doctor's air was so entirely respectful and at the same + time so masterful that Maclennan found himself walking meekly toward the + grub-house behind the doctor, with Fahey, the smile on his face broader + than ever, bringing up the rear. Maclennan caught the smile, but in the + face of the doctor's quiet, respectful manner he found it difficult to + rouse himself to wrath. He took refuge in bluster. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word, Dr. Bailey,” he burst forth when once they were + inside the grub-house, “it seems to me that you have carried things + on with a high hand in this camp. You come in here, a perfect stranger, + you head a mutiny, you lay up my foreman with a dangerous wound, with + absolutely no authority from anyone. What in the blank, blank do you mean, + anyway?” Maclennan was rather pleased to find himself at length + taking fire. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Maclennan,” said the doctor quietly, “it is natural + you should be angry. Let me give you the facts before you pass your final + judgment. A man was sent to me from this camp in a dying condition. + Diphtheria. I learned there were others suffering here with the same + disease. I came in at once to offer assistance. Consulted with Dr. Haines. + We came to a practical agreement as to what ought to be done. Mr. Craigin + objected. There was some trouble. Unfortunately, Mr. Craigin was hurt.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Bailey,” said the General Manager, “it will save + trouble if you will go somewhat fully into the facts. We want an exact + statement of what occurred.” The authoritative tone drew Dr. + Bailey's attention to the rugged face of the speaker, with its square + forehead and bull-dog jaw. He recognized at once that he had to deal with + a man of more than ordinary force, and he proceeded to give him an exact + statement of all that had happened, beginning with the death of Scotty + Anderson. + </p> + <p> + “That is all, gentlemen,” said the doctor, as he concluded his + tale; “I did what I considered was right. Prompt action was + necessary. I may have been mistaken, but I think not.” + </p> + <p> + “Mistaken!” cried Fahey, with a great oath. “I tell you, + Maclennan, we've had a close shave. We may, perhaps, explain that one + man's death, but if six or eight men had gone out of this camp in the + condition in which the doctor says they were, the results would have been + not only deplorable as far as the men are concerned, but disastrous to us + with the public. Why, good heavens above! what a shave it was! Dr. Bailey, + I am proud to meet you,” continued Fahey, putting out his hand. + “You had a most difficult situation to deal with and you handled it + like a general.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite agree with you,” said Maclennan, shaking Dr. Bailey + warmly by the hand. “The measures were somewhat drastic, but + something had to be done. Go right on, Doctor. When Craigin is on his feet + again we'll send him out.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Craigin will be quite fit to work in a day or so. But I would + suggest that he keep his place. You can't afford to lose a man of his + force.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, we'll see, we'll see.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Bailey, I'd like to see your hospital arrangements. Mac will be + busy just now and will excuse us.” + </p> + <p> + The next two hours the General Manager spent in extracting from Dr. Bailey + his theories in regard to camp sanitation and the care of the sick. + Finding a listener at once so sympathetic and so intelligent, Dr. Bailey + seized the opportunity of expatiating to the fullest extent upon the theme + which, during the last few months, had been absorbing his mind. + </p> + <p> + “These camps are wrongly constructed in the first instance—every + one that I have seen. Almost every law of sanitation is ignored. In + location, in relative position of buildings, the disposal of refuse, the + treatment of the sick and injured, the whole business reveals atrocious + folly and ignorance. For instance, take this camp. The only thing that + prevents an outbreak of typhoid is the cold weather. In the spring you + will have a state of things here that will arrest the attention of Canada. + Look at the location of the camp. Down in a swamp, with a magnificent site + five hundred yards away,” pointing to a little plateau further up + the hill, clear of underbrush and timbered with great pines. “Then + look at the stables where they are. There are no means by which the men + can keep themselves or their clothes clean. Their bunks, some of them, are + alive with vermin, and the bunk-house is reeking with all sorts of smells. + At a very little more cost you could have had a camp here pleasant, safe, + clean, and an hospital ready for emergencies. Why, good heavens! they + might at least have kept the vermin out.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pshaw!” said Fahey, “every camp has to have a few + of them fellows. Makes the men feel at home. Besides, you can't absolutely + drive them out.” + </p> + <p> + “Drive them out? Give me a free hand and I'll make this camp clean + of vermin in two weeks, absolutely, and keep it so. Why, it would pay,” + continued the doctor. “You would keep your men in good condition, in + good heart and spirits. They would do twice the work. They would stay with + you. Besides, it would prevent scandal.” + </p> + <p> + “Scandal?” The General Manager looked up sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, scandal. I have done what I could to prevent talk, but down + the line they are talking some, and if I am not mistaken it will be all + over the East in a few weeks.” + </p> + <p> + The General Manager was thinking hard. “Look here, young man,” + he said, with the air of one who has made up his mind, “do you + drink?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you gamble?” + </p> + <p> + “When I've nothing to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” said Mr. Fahey, “a little poker doesn't hurt + a man now and then. I am going to make you an offer which I hope you will + consider favourably. I offer you the position of medical superintendent of + this line at a salary of three thousand a year and all expenses. It's not + much, but if the thing goes we can easily increase it. You needn't answer + just now. Think it over. I don't know your credentials, but I don't care.” + </p> + <p> + For answer, Dr. Bailey took out his pocketbook and selected a letter. + “I didn't think I would ever use this. I didn't want to use it. But + you can look at it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fahey took the letter, glanced through it hurriedly, then read it + again with more care. + </p> + <p> + “You know Sir William?” + </p> + <p> + “Very slightly. Met him once or twice in London.” + </p> + <p> + “This is a most unusual letter for him to write. You must have stood + very high in the profession in London.” + </p> + <p> + “I had a fairly good position,” said Dr. Bailey. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask why you left?” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Bailey hesitated. “I grew tired of the life—and, besides—well—I + wanted to get away from things and people.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon my asking,” said Fahey hastily. “It was none of + my business. But, Doctor—” here he glanced at the letter + again, “Bailey, you say your name is?” + </p> + <p> + “They called me Bailey when I came in and I let it go.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir,” replied Fahey quickly, “Bailey let it + be. My offer holds, only I'll make it four thousand. We can't expect a man + of your standing for less.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fahey, I came here to work on the construction. I wanted to + forget. When I saw how things were going at the east end I couldn't help + jumping it. I never thought I should have enjoyed my professional work so + much. It has kept me busy. I will accept your offer at three thousand, but + on the distinct understanding that I am to have my way in everything.” + </p> + <p> + “By gad! you'll take it, anyway, I imagine,” said Fahey, with + a laugh, “so we may as well put it in the contract. In your + department you are supreme. If you see anything you want, take it. If you + don't see it, we will get it for you.” + </p> + <p> + On their return to the office they found Dr. Haines in Craigin's room with + Maclennan. As they entered they heard Haines' voice saying, “I + believe it was a put-up job with Tommy.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a blank lie!” roared Craigin. “I have it from + Tommy that it was his own notion to fire that shoe, and a blank good thing + for me it was. Otherwise I should have killed the best man that ever + walked into this camp. Here, keep your hands off! You paw around my head + like a blanked bull in a sand heap. Where's the doctor? Why ain't he here + attending to his business?” + </p> + <p> + “Craigin,” he said quietly, “let me look at that. Ah, + it's got a twist, that's all. There, that's better.” + </p> + <p> + Like a child Craigin submitted to his quick, light touch and sank back in + his pillow with a groan of content. Dr. Bailey gave him his medicine and + induced him, much against his will, to take some nourishment. + </p> + <p> + “There now, that's all right. To-morrow you'll be sitting up. Now + you must be kept quiet.” As he said this he motioned them out of the + room. As he was leaving, Craigin called him back. + </p> + <p> + “I want to see Maclennan,” he said gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “Wait till to-morrow, Mr. Craigin,” replied the doctor, in + soothing tones. + </p> + <p> + “I want to see him now.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor called Mr. Maclennan back. + </p> + <p> + “Maclennan, I want to say there's the whitest man in these + mountains. I was a blank, blank fool. But for him I might have been a + murderer two or three times over, and, God help me! but for that lucky + shoe of Tommy's I'd have murdered him. I want to say this to you, and I + want the doctor here not to lay it up against me.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Craigin,” said Maclennan, “I'm glad to hear + you say so. And I guess the doctor here won't cherish any grudge.” + </p> + <p> + Without a word the doctor closed the door upon Maclennan, then went to the + bedside. “Craigin, you are a man. I'd be glad to call you my friend.” + </p> + <p> + That was all. The two men shook hands and the doctor passed out, leaving + Craigin more at peace with himself and with the world than he had been for + some days. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX + </h2> + <h3> + THE LADY OF KUSKINOOK + </h3> + <p> + Soon after Dick's departure for the West, Ben Fallows took up his abode at + the Old Stone Mill and very soon found himself firmly established as a + member of the family there; and so it came that he was present on the + occasion of Margaret's visit, when the offer of the Kuskinook Hospital was + under consideration. The offer came through the Superintendent, but it was + due chiefly to the influence on the Toronto Board of Mrs. Macdougall. It + was to her that Dick had appealed for a matron for the new hospital, which + had come into existence largely through his efforts and advocacy. “We + want as matron,” Dick had written, “a strong, sane woman who + knows her work, and is not afraid to tackle anything. She must be cheery + in manner and brave in heart, not too old, and the more beautiful she is + the better.” + </p> + <p> + “Cheery in manner and brave in heart?” Mrs. Macdougall had + said to herself, looking at the letter. “The very one! She is that + and she is all the rest, and she is not too old, and beautiful enough even + for Mr. Dick.” Here Mrs. Macdougall smiled a gentle smile of + deprecation at the suggestion that flitted across her mind at that point. + “No, she'll never be old to Dick. We'll send her, and who knows, but—” + Not even to herself, however, much less to another, did the little lady + breathe a word of any 'arriere pensee' in urging the appointment. + </p> + <p> + With the Superintendent's letter in her hand, Margaret had gone to consult + Barney's mother; for to Margaret Mrs. Boyle was ever “Barney's + mother.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be a very fine work,” said Mrs. Boyle, “but + oh, lassie! it is a long, long way. And you would be far from all that + knew you!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Dick is not very far away.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, but I doubt you would see little of him, with all the + travelling he's doing to those terrible camps. And what if anything should + happen to you, and no one to care for you?” + </p> + <p> + The old lady's hands trembled over the tea cups. She had aged much during + the last six years. The sword had pierced her heart with Barney's going + from home. And while, in the case of her younger and favourite son, she + had without grudging made the ancient sacrifice, lines of her surrender + showed deep upon her face. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with me goin' along, Miss Margaret?” said + Ben, breaking in upon the pause in the conversation. “There's one of + the old gang out there. We cawn't 'ave Barney, but you'd do in his place, + an' I guess we could make things hump a bit. W'en the gang gits a goin' + things begin to hum. You remember that day down at the 'Old King's' w'en + me an' Barney an' Dick—” + </p> + <p> + “Och! Ben lad,” said Mrs. Boyle, “Margaret will be + hearing that story many's the time. But what would you be doing in an + hospital?” + </p> + <p> + “Me? I hain't goin' fer to work in no 'ospital! I'm goin' to look + after Miss Margaret. She wants someone to look after her, don't she?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, that she does,” remarked Mrs. Boyle, with such emphasis + that Margaret flushed as she cried, “Not I! My business is to look + after other people.” + </p> + <p> + But the more the matter was discussed the clearer it became that + Margaret's work lay at Kuskinook, and further, that she could not do + better than take Ben along to “look after her,” as he put it. + Hence, before the year had gone, all through the Windermere and Crow's + Nest valleys the fame of the Lady of Kuskinook grew great, and second only + to hers was that of her bodyguard, the hospital orderly, Ben Fallows. And + indeed, Ben's usefulness was freely acknowledged by both staff and + patients; for by day or by night he was ever ready to skip off on errands + of mercy, his wooden leg clicking a vigorous tattoo to his rapid + movements. He was especially proud of that wooden leg, a combination of + joints and springs so wonderful that he was often heard to lament the + clumsiness of the other leg in comparison. + </p> + <p> + “W'en it comes to legs,” Ben would say, “this 'ere's the + machine fer me. It never gits rheumatism in the joints, nor corns on the + toes, an' yeh cawn't freeze it with forty below.” + </p> + <p> + As Ben grew in fame so he grew in dignity and in solemn and serious + appreciation of himself, and of his position in the hospital. The + institution became to him not simply a thing of personal pride, but an + object of reverent regard. To Ben's mind, taking it all in all, it stood + unique among all similar institutions in the Dominion. While, as for the + matron, as he watched her at her work his wonder grew and, with it, a love + amounting to worship. In his mind she dwelt apart as something sacred, and + to serve her and to guard her became a religion with Ben. In fact, the + Glory of the Kuskinook hospital lay chiefly in this, that it afforded a + sphere in which his divinity might exercise her various powers and graces. + </p> + <p> + It was just at this point that Tommy Tate roused his wrath. Dr. Bailey's + foreboding regarding Maclennan's Camp No. 2 had been justified by a + serious outbreak in early spring of typhoid, of malignant type, to which + Tommy fell a victim. The hospitals along the line were already + overflowing, and so the doctor had sent Tommy to Kuskinook in charge of an + assistant. After a six weeks' doubtful struggle with the disease Tommy + began to convalesce, and with returning strength revived his invincible + love of mischief, which he gratified in provoking the soul of Orderly Ben + Fallows, notwithstanding that the two had become firm friends during the + tedious course of Tommy's sickness. It didn't take Tommy long to discover + Ben's tender spots, the most tender of which he found to be the honour of + the hospital and all things and persons associated therewith. As to the + matron, Tommy ventured no criticism. He had long since enrolled her among + his saints, and Ben Fallows himself was not a more enthusiastic devotee + than he. And not even to gratify his insatiable desire for fun at Ben's + expense would Tommy venture any liberty with the name of the matron. In + regard to the young preacher, however, who seemed to be a somewhat + important part of the institution, Tommy was not so scrupulous, while as + to the hospital appointments and methods, he never hesitated to champion + the superior methods of those down the line. + </p> + <p> + It was a beautiful May morning and Tommy was signalizing his unusually + vigorous health by a very specially exasperating criticism of the + Kuskinook hospital and its belongings. + </p> + <p> + “It's the beautiful hospitals they are down the line. They don't + have the frills and tucks on their shirts, to be sure, but they do the + thrick, so they do.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess they're all right fer simple cases,” agreed Ben, + “but w'en yeh git somethin' real bad yeh got to come 'ere. Look at + yerself!” + </p> + <p> + “Arrah! an' that was the docthor, Hivin be swate to him! He tuk a + notion t' me fer a good turn I done him wance. Begob, there's a man fer + ye! Talk about yer white min! Talk about yer prachers an' the like! + There's a man fer ye, an' there's none to measure wid him in the + mountains!” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Bailey, I suppose ye're talkin' about?” inquired Ben, + with fine scorn. + </p> + <p> + “Yis, Dr. Bailey, an' that's the first two letters av his name. An' + whin ye find a man to stand forninst him, by the howly poker! I'll ate him + alive, an' so I will.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I hain't agoin' to say, Mr. Tate,” said Ben, with + studied, politeness, “that no doctor can never compare with a + preacher, for I've seen a doctor myself, an' there's the kind of work he + done,” displaying his wooden leg and foot with pride. “But + what I say is that w'en it comes to doin' real 'igh-class, fine work, give + me the Reverend Richard Boyle, Esquire. Yes, sir, sez I, Dick Boyle's the + man fer me!” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, gwan now wid ye! An' wud ye be afther puttin' a preacher in the + same car wid a docthor, an' him the Medical Superintendent av the railway?” + </p> + <p> + “I hain't talkin' 'bout preachers an' doctors in general,” + replied Ben, keeping himself firmly in hand, “but I'm talkin' about + this 'ere preacher, the Reverend Richard Boyle.” Ben's attention to + the finer courtesies in conversation always increased with his wrath. + “An' that I'll stick to, for there's no man in these 'ere mountain + 'as done more fer this 'ere country than that same Reverend Richard Boyle, + Esquire.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen til the monkey! An' what has he done, will ye tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Ben, ignoring Tommy's opprobrious epithet, + “I hain't got a day to spend, but, to begin with, there's two + churches up the Windermere which—” + </p> + <p> + “Churches, is it? Sure an' what is a church good fer but to bury a + man from, forby givin' the women a place to say their prayers an' show + their hats?” + </p> + <p> + “As I was sayin',” continued Ben, “there's two churches + up the Windermere. I hain't no saint, an' I hain't no scholar, but I goes + by them as is, an' I know that there's Miss Margaret, an' I tell you”—here + Ben solemnly removed his pipe from his mouth and, holding it by the bowl, + pointed the stem, by way of emphasizing his words, straight at Tommy's + face—“I tell you she puts them churches above even this 'ere + hinstitution!” And Ben sat back in his chair to allow the full + magnitude of this fact to have its full weight with Tommy. For once Tommy + was without reply, for anything savouring of criticism of Miss Margaret or + her opinions was impossible to him. + </p> + <p> + “An' what's more,” continued Ben, “this 'ere + hinstitution in which we're a-sittin' this hour wouldn't be 'ere but fer + that same preacher an' them that backs him up. That's yer churches fer + yeh!” And still Tommy remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “An' if yeh want to knew more about him, you ask Magee there, an' + Morrison an' Old Cap Jim an' a 'eap of fellows about this 'ere preacher, + an' 'ear 'em talk. Don't ask me. 'Ear 'em talk w'en they git time. They + wuz a blawsted lot of drunken fools, workin' for the whiskey-sellers an' + the tin-horn gamblers. Now they're straight an' sendin' their money 'ome. + An' there's some as I know would be a lot better if they done the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Manin' mesilf, ye blaggard! An' tis thrue fer ye. But luk at the + docthor, will ye, ain't he down on the whiskey, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's w'at I 'ear,” conceded Ben. “But e'll soak + 'em good at poker.” + </p> + <p> + “Bedad, it's the truth ye're spakin,” said Tommy + enthusiastically. “An' it wud do ye more good than a month's masses + to see him take the hair aff the tin horns, the divil fly away wid thim! + An' luk at the 'rid lights'—” + </p> + <p> + “'Red lights'?” interrupted Ben. “Now ye're talkin'. Who + cleared up the 'rid lights' at Bull Crossin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Who did, thin?” + </p> + <p> + “Who? The Reverend Richard Boyle is the man.” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, run in an' shut the dure! Ye're walkin' in yer slape.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Tate, I 'appen to know the facts in this 'ere particular case, + beggin' yer 'umble pardon.” Ben's h's became more lubricous with his + rising indignation. “An' I 'appen to know that agin the Pioneer's + violent opposition, agin the business men, agin his own helder a-keepin' + the drug shop, agin the hagent of the town site an' agin the whole + blawsted, bloomin' population, that 'ere preacher put up a fight, by the + jumpin' Jemima! that made 'em all 'unt their 'oles!” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, Benny, it's wanderin' agin ye are! Did ye niver hear how the + docthor walked intil the big meetin' an' in five minutes made the iditor + av the Pioneer an' the town site agent an' that bunch look like last + year's potaty patch fer ould shaws, wid the spache he gave thim?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Ben, “I didn't 'ear any such thing, I didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, thin, go out into society, me bhoy, an' kape yer ears clane.” + </p> + <p> + “My ears don't require no such cleanin' as some I know!” cried + Ben, whose self-control was strained to the point of breaking. + </p> + <p> + “Manin' mesilf agin. Begorra, it's yer game leg that saves ye from a + batin'!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't fight no sick man in our own 'ospital,” replied Ben + scornfully, “but w'en yer sufficiently recovered, I'd be proud to + haccommodate yeh. But as fer this 'ere preacher—” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, go on wid yer preacher an' yer hull outfit! The docthor + yonder's worth—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Tate, this 'ere's goin' past the limit. I can put up with + a good deal of abuse from a sick man, but w'en I 'ears any reflections + thrown out at this 'ere 'ospital an' them as runs it, by the livin' + jumpin' Jemima Jebbs! I hain't goin' to stand it, not me!” Ben's + voice rose in a shrill cry of anger. “I'd 'ave yeh to know that the + 'ead of this 'ere hinstitution—” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, whist now, ye blatherin' bletherskite, who's talkin' about the + Head? The Head, is it? An' d'ye think I'd sthand—Howly Moses! here + she comes, an' the angels thimsilves wud luk like last year beside her!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Tommy. Why, I do think you are looking remarkably + well to-day,” cried the matron, her brisk step, bright face, and + cheery voice eloquent of her splendid vitality and high spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Och! thin, an' who wudn't luk well in your prisince?” said + the gallant little Irishman, with a touch to his hat. “Sure, it's + better than the sunlight to see the smile av yer pritty face.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Tommy, Tommy, we'll have to be sending you away if you go on + like that. It's a sure sign of convalescence when an Irishman begins to + blarney.” + </p> + <p> + “Blarney, indade! Bedad, it's God's mercy I don't have to blarney, + for I haven't the strength to do that same.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Tommy, don't try. Keep your strength for getting well again. + Ben, I think I saw Mr. Boyle riding up. Will you please go and take his + horse and show him up to the office. I am just wanting his help in + preparing my annual report.” + </p> + <p> + “Report!” cried Ben. “A day like this! No, sez I; git + out into the woods an' git a little colour into yer cheeks. It'll do him + good, too. This' ere hinstitution is takin' the life out o' yeh.” + </p> + <p> + And Ben went away grumbling his discontent and wrath at the matron's + inability to take thought for herself. + </p> + <p> + The tiny office was bare enough of beauty, but from the window there + stretched a scene glorious in its majestic sweep and in its varied + loveliness. Down over the tops of second-growth jack pine and Douglas fir + one looked straight into the roaring gorge of the Goat River filled with + misty light and overhung with an arching rainbow. Up the other side + climbed the hills in soft folds of pine tops and, beyond the pines, to the + sheer, grey, rocky peaks in whose clefts and crags the snow lay like + fretted silver. Far up the valley to the east the line of the new railway + gleamed here and there through the pines, while to the west the Goat River + gorge issued into the splendid expanse of the Kootenay Valley, forest-clad + and lying now in all the sunlit glory of its new spring dress. + </p> + <p> + For some moments Dick stood gazing. “Of all views I see, this is the + best,” he said. “Day or night I can get it clear as I see it + now, and it always brings me rest and comfort.” + </p> + <p> + “Rest and comfort?” echoed Margaret, coming to his side. + “Yes, I understand that, especially with the sunlight upon it. But + at night, Dick, with the moon high above that peak there and filling with + its light all the valleys, do you know, I hardly dare look at it long.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” replied Dick, slowly. “Barney used to + say the same about the moonlight on the view from the hillcrest above the + Mill.” + </p> + <p> + Then a silence fell between them. The deepest, nearest thought with each + was Barney. It was always Barney. Resolutely they refused to allow the + name to reach their lips except at rare intervals, but each knew how the + thought of him lurked in the heart, ready to leap into full view with + every deeper throb. + </p> + <p> + “Come, this won't do,” said Margaret, almost sharply. + </p> + <p> + “No, it won't do,” replied Dick, each reading the thought in + the other's heart. + </p> + <p> + “I am struggling with my report,” said Margaret in a + business-like tone. “What shall I say? How shall I begin?” + </p> + <p> + “Your report, eh? Better let me write it. I'll tell them things that + will make them sit up. What copy there would be in it for the Daily + Telegraph! The lonely outpost of civilization, the incoming stream of + maimed and wounded, of sick and lonely, the outgoing stream healed and + hopeful, and all singing the praises of the Lady of Kuskinook.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Dick,” said Margaret softly. “You are forgetting + the man who travels the lonely trails to the camps and up the gulches for + the sick and wounded and brings them out on his broncho's back and his + own, too, watches by them and prays with them, who yarns to them and sings + to them till they forget their homesickness, which is the sickness the + hospital cannot cure.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, draw it mild, Margaret. Well, we'll give it up. The best part + of this report will be that that is never written, except on the hearts + and in the lives of the poor chaps who will think of the Lady of Kuskinook + any time they happen to be saying their prayers.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Dick, what shall I say?” + </p> + <p> + “Begin with the statistics. Typhoids, so many—” + </p> + <p> + “What an awful lot there were, two hundred and twenty-seven of them!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Dick. “But think of what there would have + been but for that man, Bailey! He's a wonder! He has organized the camps + upon a sanitary basis, brought in good water from the hills, established + hospitals, and all that sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + “So you've got it, too,” said Margaret, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Got what?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what I call the Bailey bacillus. From the general manager, Mr. + Fahey, down to Tommy Tate, it seems to have gone everywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that so?” replied Dick, laughing. “Well, there are + some who have escaped the tin-horn gang and the whiskey runners. Or + rather, they've got it, but it's a different kind. Some day they'll kill + him.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet they say he is—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know. He does gamble, and when he gets going he's a terror. + But he's down on the whiskey and on the 'red lights.' You remember the big + fight at Bull Crossing? It was Bailey pulled me out of that hole. The + Pioneer was slating me, Colonel Hilliers, the town site agent, was + fighting me, withdrew his offer of a site for our church unless I'd leave + the 'red lights' alone, and went everywhere quoting the British army in + India against me. Even my own men, church members, mind you, one of them + an elder, thought I should attend to my own business. These people were + their best customers. Why, they actually went so far as to write to the + Presbytery that I was antagonizing the people and ruining the Church. + Well, you remember the big meeting called to protest against this vice? + The enemy packed the house. Had half a dozen speakers for the 'Liberal' + side. Unfortunately I had been sent for to see a fellow dying up the line. + It looked for a complete knockout for me. In came Dr. Bailey, waited till + they were all through their talk, and then went for them. He didn't speak + more than ten minutes, but in those ten minutes he crumpled them up + utterly and absolutely. Colonel Hilliers and the editor of The Pioneer, I + understand, went white and red, yellow and green, by turns. The crowd + simply yelled. You know he is tremendously popular with the men. They + passed my resolution standing on the backs of their seats. Quite true, the + doctor went from the meeting to a big poker game and stayed at it all + night. But I'm inclined to forgive him that, and all the more because I am + told he was after that fellow 'Mexico' and his gang. Oh, it was a fine bit + of work. I've often wished to meet him, but he's a hard man to find. He + must be a good sort at bottom.” + </p> + <p> + “To hear Tommy talk,” replied Margaret, “you would make + up your mind he was a saint. He tells the most heart-moving stories of his + ways and doings, nursing the sick and helping those who are down on their + luck. Why, he and Ben almost came to blows this morning in regard to the + comparative merits of the doctor and yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Ben, eh? I can never be thankful enough,” said Dick + earnestly, “that you brought Ben West with you. It always makes me + feel safer to think that he is here.” + </p> + <p> + “Ben will agree with you,” replied Margaret, “I assure + you. He assumes full care of me and of the whole institution.” + </p> + <p> + “Good boy, Ben,” said Dick, heartily. “And he is a kind + of link to that old home and—with the past, the beautiful past, the + past I like to think of.” The shadows were creeping up on Dick's + face, deepening its lines and emphasizing the look of weariness and + unrest. + </p> + <p> + “A beautiful past it was,” replied Margaret gently. “We + ought to be thankful that we have it.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you heard anything?” inquired Dick. + </p> + <p> + “No. Iola's letter was the last. He had left London shortly after + her arrival, so Jack Charrington had told her. She didn't know where he + had gone. Charrington thought to the West somewhere, but there has been no + word since.” + </p> + <p> + Dick put his head on the table and groaned aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Dick, boy,” said Margaret, laying her hand upon + his head as if he had been a child, “it will all come right some + day.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't stand it, Margaret!” groaned Dick, “I shut it + out from me for weeks and then it all comes over me again. It was my + cursed folly that wrecked everything! Wrecked Barney's life, Iola's, too, + for all I know, and mine!” + </p> + <p> + “You must not say wrecked,” replied Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “What other word is there? Wrecked and ruined. I know what you would + say; but whatever the next life has for us, there is nothing left in this + that can atone!” + </p> + <p> + “That, too, you must not say, Dick,” said Margaret. “God + has something yet for us. He always keeps for us better than He has given. + The best is always before us. Besides,” she continued eagerly, + “He has given you all this work to do, this beautiful work.” + </p> + <p> + The word recalled Dick. He sat up straight. “Yes, yes, I must not + forget. I am not worthy to touch it. He gave me this chance to work. What + else should I want? And after all, this is the best. I can't help the + heart-hunger now and then, but God forbid I should ever say a word of + anything but gratitude. I was down, down, far down out of sight. He pulled + me up. Who am I to complain? But I am not complaining! It is not for + myself. If there were only one word to know he was doing well, was safe!” + He turned suddenly to Margaret with an almost fierce earnestness. “Margaret, + do you think God will give me this?” His voice was hoarse with the + intensity of his passion. “Do you know, I sometimes feel that I + don't want Heaven without this. I never pray for anything else. Wealth, + honour, fame, I once longed for these. But now these are nothing to me if + only I knew Barney was right and safe and well. Yes, even my love for you, + Margaret, the best thing, the truest thing next to my love of my Lord, I'd + give up to know. But three years have gone since that awful night and not + a word! It eats and eats and eats into me here,” he smote himself + hard over his heart, “till the actual physical pain is at times more + than I can stand. What do you think, Margaret?” he continued, his + face quivering piteously. “Every time I think of God I think of + Barney. Every prayer I make I ask for Barney. I wake at night and it is + Barney I am thinking of. Can I stand this long? Will I have to stand it + long? Has God forgiven me? And when He forgives, does He take away the + pain? Sometimes I wonder if there is anything in all this I preach!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Dick!” said Margaret, her voice broken with the grief + she understood only too well. “Hush! You must not doubt God. God + forgives and loves and grieves with our griefs. He will take away the pain + as soon as He can. You must believe this and wait and trust. God will give + him back to us. I feel it here.” She laid her hand upon her heaving + breast. + </p> + <p> + For some moments Dick was silent. “Perhaps so,” he said at + length. “For your sake He might. Yes, down in my heart I believe he + will.” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Margaret, “let us go out into the open air, + into God's sunlight. We shall feel better there. Come, Dick, let us go and + see the Goat cavort.” She took him by the arm and lifted him up. At + the door she met Ben. “I won't be gone long, Ben,” she + explained. + </p> + <p> + “Stay as long as yeh like, Miss Margaret,” replied Ben + graciously. “An' the longer yeh stay the better fer the + hinstitution.” + </p> + <p> + “That's an extremely doubtful compliment,” laughed Margaret, + as they passed down the winding path that made its way through the tall + red pines to the rocky bank of the Goat River. There on a broad ledge of + rock that jutted out over the boiling water, Margaret seated herself with + her back against the big red polished bole of a pine tree, while at her + feet Dick threw himself, reclining against a huge pine root that threw + great clinging arms here and there about the rocky ledges. It was a sweet + May day. All the scents and sounds of spring filled up the fragrant spaces + of the woods. Far up through the great feathering branches gleamed patches + of blue sky. On every side stretched long aisles pillared with the clean + red trunks of the pine trees wrought in network pattern. At their feet + raged the Goat, foaming out his futile fury at the unmoved black rocks. Up + the rocky sides from the water's edge, bravely clinging to nook and + cranny, running along ledges, hanging trembling to ragged edges, boldly + climbing up to the forest, were all spring's myriad tender things + wherewith she redeems Nature from winter's ugliness. From the river below + came gusts of misty wind, waves of sound of the water's many voices. It + was a spot where Nature's kindly ministries got about the spirit, healing, + soothing, resting. + </p> + <p> + With hardly a word, Dick lay for an hour, watching the pine branches wave + about him and listening to the voices that came from the woods around and + from the waters below, till the fever and the doubt passed from his heart + and he grew strong and ready for the road again. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know how good this is, Margaret,” he said, “all + this about me. No, it's you. It's you, Margaret. If I could see you + oftener I could bear it better. You shame me and you make me a man again. + Oh, Margaret! if only you could let me hope that some day—” + </p> + <p> + “Look, Dick!” she cried, springing to her feet, “there's + the train.” + </p> + <p> + It was still a novelty to see the long line of cars wind its way like some + great jointed reptile through the woods below. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Margaret,” continued Dick, “is it quite + impossible?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dick!” cried the girl, her face full of pain, “don't + ask me!” + </p> + <p> + “Can it never be, Margaret, in the years to come?” + </p> + <p> + She clasped her hands above her heart. “Dick,” she cried + piteously, “I can't see how it can be. My heart is not my own. While + Barney lives I could not be true and be another's wife.” + </p> + <p> + “While Barney lives!” echoed Dick blankly. “Then God + grant you may never be mine!” He stood straight for a moment, then + with a shake of his shoulders, as if adjusting a load, he stepped into the + path. “Come, let us go,” he said. “There will be letters + and I must get to work.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Dick dear,” said Margaret, her voice full of tender + pity, “there's always our work, thank God!” + </p> + <p> + Together they entered the shady path, going back to the work which was to + them, as to many others, God's salvation. + </p> + <p> + There were a number of letters lying on the office desk that day, but one + among them made Margaret's heart beat quick. It was from Iola. She caught + it up and tore it open. It might hold a word of Barney. She was not + mistaken. Hurriedly she read through Iola's glowing accounts of her + season's triumph with Wagner. “It has been a great, a glorious + experience,” wrote Iola. “I cannot be far from the top now. + The critics actually classed me with the great Malten. Oh, it was + glorious. But I am tired out. The doctors say there is something wrong, + but I think it is only that I am tired to death. They say I cannot sing + for a year, but I don't want to sing for a long, long time. I want you, + Margaret, and I want—oh, fool that I was!—I may as well out + with it—I want Barney. I have no shame at all. If I knew where to + find him I would ask him to come. But he would not. He loathes me, I know. + If I were only with you at the manse or at the Old Mill I should soon be + strong. Sometimes I am afraid I shall never be. But if I could see you! I + think that is it. I am weary for those I love. Love! Love! Love! That is + the best. If you have your chance, Margaret, don't throw away love! There, + this letter has tired me out. My face is hot as I read it and my heart is + sore. But I must let it go.” The tears were streaming down + Margaret's face as she read. + </p> + <p> + “Read it, Dick,” she said brokenly, thrusting the letter into + his hands. + </p> + <p> + Dick read it and gave it back to her without a word. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, where is he?” cried Margaret, wringing her hands. “If + we only knew!” + </p> + <p> + “The date is a month old,” said Dick. “I think one of us + must go. You must go, Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Dick, it must be you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not I, Margaret! Not I! You remember—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you, Dick. For Barney's sake you must go.” + </p> + <p> + “For Barney's sake,” said Dick, with a sob in his throat. + “Yes, I'll go. I'll go to-night. No, I must go to see a man dying in + the Big Horn Canyon. Next day I'll be off. I'll bring her back to him. Oh! + if I could only bring her back for him, dear old boy! God give me this!” + </p> + <p> + “Amen,” said Margaret with white lips. For hope lives long and + dies hard. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX + </h2> + <h3> + UNTIL SEVENTY TIMES SEVEN + </h3> + <p> + The Big Horn flowed by a tortuous and rapid course through rough country + into the Goat. The trail was bad and, in places, led over high mountain + shoulders in a way heartbreaking to packers. For this reason, all who knew + the ways and moods of a canoe chose the water in going up the canyon. True + enough, there were a number of lift-outs and two rather long portages that + made the going up pretty stiff, but if a man had skill with the paddle and + knew the water he might avoid these by running the rapids. Men from the + Ottawa or from some other north Canadian river, like all true canoemen, + hated to portage and loved to take the risk of the rapids. Though the + current was fairly rapid, going upstream was not so difficult as one might + imagine; that is, if the canoeman happened to know how to take advantage + of the eddies, how to sneak up the quiet water by the banks, how to put + the nose of his canoe into the swift water and to hold her so that, as + Duprez, the keeper of the stopping place at the Landing, said, “She + would walk on de rapide toute suite lak one oiseau.” + </p> + <p> + There was a bad outbreak of typhoid at the upper camp on the Big Horn, and + Dr. Bailey had been urgently summoned. The upper camp lay on the other + side of the Big Horn Lake, twenty miles or more from the steel. The lake + itself was six miles long by canoe, but by trail it was at least twice + that. Hence, though there would be some stiff paddling in the trip, the + doctor did not hesitate in his choice of route. He knew his canoe and + loved every rib and thwart in her. He had learned also the woodsman's + trick of going light. A blanket, a tea pail which held his grub, + consisting of some Hudson Bay hard tack, a hunk of bacon, and a little tea + and sugar, and his drinking cup constituted his baggage, so that he could + make the portages in a single carry. Many a mile had he gone, thus + equipped, both by trail and by canoe, in his journeyings up and down these + valleys, doing his work for the sick and wounded in the railroad, lumber, + and tie camps, and more recently in the new-planted mining towns. + </p> + <p> + It was a great day for his trip. A stiff breeze upstream would help him in + his fight with the current and coming down it would be glorious. The sun + was just appearing over the row of pines that topped the low mountain + range to the east when he packed his kit and blankets under the gunwale in + the bow and slipped his canoe into the water. He was about to step in when + a voice he had not heard for many days arrested him. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Duprez! Did you see the preacher pass this way yesterday? He + was—By the livin' jumpin' Jemima! Barney!” + </p> + <p> + It was Ben Fallows, gazing with open mouth on the doctor. With two swift + steps the doctor was at his side. He grasped Ben by the arm and walked him + swiftly apart. + </p> + <p> + “Ben,” he said, in a low, stern voice, “not a word. I + once did you a good turn?” + </p> + <p> + Ben nodded, still too astonished for speech. + </p> + <p> + “Then listen to what I tell you. No one must know what you know now.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but Miss Margaret and Dick—” gasped Ben. + </p> + <p> + “They don't know,” interrupted the doctor, “and must not + know. Will you promise me this, Ben?” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove, Barney! I don't—I don't think—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear me, Ben? Do you promise?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, by the livin'—” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Ben; I think I can depend on you for the sake of old + days.” The doctor's smile set Ben's head in a whirl. + </p> + <p> + “You bet, Bar—Doctor!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Good old boy, Ben. Good-bye, lad.” + </p> + <p> + He stepped into the canoe and pushed her off into the eddy just above the + falls by which the Big Horn plunged into the Goat. + </p> + <p> + “Bo' voyage, M'sieu le Docteur!” sang out Duprez. “You + cache hup de preechere. He pass on de riviere las' night.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Who?” + </p> + <p> + “De preechere, Boyle. He's pass on wid canoe las' night. He's camp + on de Beeg Fall, s'pose.” + </p> + <p> + Barney held his canoe steady for a moment. “Went up last night, did + he?” + </p> + <p> + “Oui. Tom Martin on de Beeg Horn camp he's go ver' seeck. He send + for M'sieu Boyle.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he go up alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Oui. He's not want nobody. Non. He's good man on de canoe.” + </p> + <p> + It was an awkward situation. There was a very good chance that he should + fall in with his brother somewhere on the trip, and that, at all costs, he + was determined to avoid. For a minute or more he sat holding his canoe, + calculating time and distances. At length he came to a resolve. He must + visit the camp on the Big Horn, and he trusted his own ingenuity to avoid + the meeting he dreaded. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Duprez! bon jour.” + </p> + <p> + “Bo' jou' an' bon voyage. Gare a vous on de Longue Rapide. You mak' + de portage hon dat rapide, n'est ce pas?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. No portage for me, Duprez. I'll run her.” + </p> + <p> + “Prenez garde, M'sieu le Docteur,” answered Duprez, shrugging + his shoulders. “Maudit! Dat's ver' fas' water!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry about me,” cried the doctor. “Just watch me + take this little riffle.” + </p> + <p> + “Bien!” cried Duprez, as the doctor slipped his canoe into the + eddy and, with a smooth, noiseless stroke, sent her up toward the point + where the stream broke into a riffle at the head of the rapid which led to + the falls below. It may be that the doctor was putting a little extra + weight on his paddle or that he did not exercise that unsleeping vigilance + which the successful handling of the canoe demands, but whatever the + cause, when the swift water struck the canoe, in spite of all his strength + and skill, he soon found himself almost in midstream and going down the + rapids. + </p> + <p> + “Mon Dieu!” cried Duprez, dancing in his excitement from one + foot to the other. “A droit! a droit! Non! Don' try for go hup! Come + out on de heddy!” + </p> + <p> + The doctor did not hear him, but, realizing the hopelessness of the + frontal attack upon the rapid, he steered his canoe toward the eddy and + gradually edged her into the quiet water. + </p> + <p> + “You come ver' close on de fall, mon gar'!” cried Duprez, as + the doctor paddled slowly up the edge past him. “You bes' pass on de + portage. Not many mans go hup on de rapids comme ca.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Duprez. I hit her too hard, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + Once more the doctor moved toward the riffle. He had done the thing before + and he was not to be beaten now. As the eddy bore him toward the swift + water again he carefully gauged the angle of attack, so that when the nose + of the canoe entered the riffle, with the trick that all canoemen know, he + held her up firm against the water, and, with no very great effort, but by + skilful manipulations of the force of the current, he shoved her gradually + across the riffle into the slow water near the farther bank, and with a + triumphant wave of the paddle disappeared around the bend. + </p> + <p> + “He's good man,” said Duprez to Ben Fallows, who had taken all + this time to recover from the shock of Barney's sudden appearance. “But + de preechere, he's go hup dat rapide lak one oiseau las' night.” + </p> + <p> + “Did, eh?” answered Ben. “Well, he didn't put in three + summers on the Mattawa fer nothin'. He's a bird in the canoe, an' so's his + bro—that is—the doctor there. Wonder if he'll catch him!” + Ben was much excited. + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe. He's cache heem comin' down, for sure!” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the doctor paddled on with steady, swinging stroke, taking + advantage of every eddy and cross current, stealing along the bank under + the overhanging trees, sidling across swift water, lifting his canoe over + rocky bits, till near mid-day he found himself at the portage below the + Long Rapid. + </p> + <p> + “Guess I'll camp on the other side,” he said, talking aloud + after the manner of men who live much alone. He adjusted his paddles on + the thwarts, hooked his tea pail to his belt, shouldered his canoe, and, + taking his blanket pack in his hand, made the half mile portage without a + “set down.” + </p> + <p> + “There,” he said, setting his canoe carefully on the grass, + “my legs are better than my arms. Now we'll grub.” He unpacked + his tea pail, cut his bacon into strips preparatory to toasting, built a + fire, drew a pail of water, threw in a handful of tea, swung it by a + poplar sapling over the fire, and sat down to toast his bacon. In fifteen + minutes his meal was ready—such a meal as can be had only in the + mountains under the open sky and at the end of a ten-mile paddle against + the stream of the Big Horn. After dinner he lit his pipe and stretched + himself in the warm spring sun for half an hour's quiet think. The old + restlessness was coming back upon him. His work as Medical Superintendent + of the railway construction was practically completed. The medical + department was thoroughly organized and the fight with disease and dirt + was pretty much over so far as he was concerned. And with the easing of + the strain there came fiercely upon him the soul fever that had for the + last three years driven him from land to land. Had it not been that his + professional honour demanded that he should hold his post and do his work, + he had long ago left a district where he was kept constantly in mind of + what he had so resolutely striven to forget. By the exercise of the most + assiduous care he had prevented a meeting with his brother during the last + three months. But in this he could not hope to be successful much longer. + Before his second pipe was smoked he had reached his resolve. “I'll + pull out of this,” he said, “once this Big Horn camp is + cleaned up.” + </p> + <p> + He packed his kit, carefully extinguished his fire, the mark of a right + woodsman, slipped his canoe into the water, and set off again. His meeting + with Ben Fallows seemed somehow to have brought his brother near him + to-day. Everything was eloquent of those days they had spent together on + the upper reaches of the Ottawa. The flowing river, the open sky, the + wood, the fresh air, and, most of all, the slipping canoe spoke to him of + Dick. The fierce resentment, the bitter sense of loss, that had been as a + festering in his heart these years, seemed somehow to-day to have lost + their stinging pain. With every lift of the paddle, with every deep breath + of the fragrant spring air, with every slip of the canoe, the buoyant + gladness of those old canoeing days came swelling into his heart, and ere + he knew he caught himself singing, to the rhythmic swing of paddle and + shoulders, the old Habitant canoe song: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “En roulant ma boule roulant.” + </pre> + <p> + As often as he found his body swinging to the song, so often did he + sternly check himself and resolutely set another air going in his head, + only to find himself in a short space swinging along again to the old song + to which he and his brother had so often made their canoe slip in those + great days that now seemed so far away. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “En roulant ma boule,” + </pre> + <p> + sang his paddle in spite of all he could do. He could hear Dick's clear + tenor from the bow. “Here, confound it! Quit it, I say!” he + said aloud savagely. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “En roulant ma boule roulant,” + </pre> + <p> + in a clear strong voice came the old song from around the bend. The doctor + almost dropped his paddle into the stream. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens above!” he muttered. “What's that? Who's that?” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Visa la noir, tua le blanc, + Rouli roulant, ma boule roulant,” + </pre> + <p> + sang the voice. There was only one who could sing that verse just that + way. With two swift heaves of the paddle he lifted his canoe into the + overhanging bushes, noiselessly leaped ashore, and pulled his canoe up the + bank after him. Down the river still came the song, and ever nearer. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “O fils du roi tu es mechant, + En roulant ma boule.” + </pre> + <p> + The doctor cautiously parted the bushes and looked out. Close to the bank + came the canoe, the singer sitting in the stern, his hat off and his face + showing brown against the fair hair. How strong he looked and how + handsome! Barney remembered his own boyish pride in his brother's good + looks. Yes, he was handsome as ever, and yet he was different. “He's + older, that's it,” said the man in the bushes, breathing hard. No, + it was not that altogether. There was a new gravity, a new dignity, upon + the face. All at once the song ceased abruptly. The paddle was laid down + and the canoe allowed to drift. The current carried her still nearer the + shore. Every line in the face could now be seen. The man peering out + through the bushes was conscious of a sharp thrust of pain. The lines in + that grave, handsome face were lines drawn with some sharp instrument of + grief. The change was not that of years, it was more. Not simply the + gravity of responsible manhood, it was that, and something else. This was + the change, the old careless gaiety was gone out of the face and in its + place sadness, almost gloom. Straight down the river the grave, sad face + was turned, but the eyes were fixed with unseeing gaze upon the flowing + water. The canoe was now almost abreast the hiding place in the bushes and + still drifting. Suddenly the man in the canoe, lifting up his face toward + the sky, cried out, “I'll bring her back, please God, and I'll find + him, too!” The watcher drew back quickly. A stick snapped under his + hand. He threw himself face down and gripped his hands hard into the moss + as if to hold himself there. “A deer, I guess, but I must get on,” + he heard a voice say, then a flip of the paddle and, looking out through + the bushes, he saw the swaying figure of the man he most longed and most + dreaded to see of all men in the world fast disappearing from his view. + Twice he raised his hands to his lips to call after him, but even as he + did so a vision held his voice, the vision of a room in a city far away, + the girl he loved, and this man pressing hot kisses on her face. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said at length, grinding his foot hard into the moss, + “let him go.” But still with straining eyes he gazed after the + swaying figure till the bend in the river hid it from his sight. Then he + sank down on the deep moss bank with the air of a man who has just passed + through a heavy fight. + </p> + <p> + The rest of the journey upstream was to him a weary drag. The brightness + had gone out of the light, the sweetness out of the air. A burning pain + filled his heart and clutched at his throat. The old sore, which his work + for the sick and wounded had helped to heal over, had been torn open + afresh, and the first agony of it was upon him again. He arrived at the + upper camp late at night and weary. But, weary as he was, he toiled on in + his fight with the typhoid outbreak till near the dawning of the day, + then, snatching an hour's sleep, he set off down the Big Horn, resolved + that ere a week had passed he would seek in some far land the forgetting + which here was impossible to him. + </p> + <p> + Steadily the paddle swung all the long morning, but without awakening any + rhythmic song in his heart. It was a heavy grind to be got through with as + soon as might be. Even the slip and leap of the canoe failed to quicken + his heart a single beat. It was still early in the forenoon when he + reached the Long Rapid. It was a dangerous bit of water, but without a + moment's considering he stood upright in his canoe and, casting a quick + glance down the boiling slope, he made his choice of passage. Then getting + on his knees he braced them firmly against the sides of his canoe and + before he was well ready found himself in the smooth, steep pitch at the + crest of that seething incline of plunging water. Two long swallowlike + swoops, then a mad plunging through a succession of buffeting, curling + waves that slapped viciously at him as he dashed through, a great heave or + two over the humping billows at the foot, then the swirl of the eddy + caught him, and lifted him clear over into the quiet water. One minute of + wild thrills and the Long Rapid was left behind. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't take that quite right,” he grumbled. “Ought to + have lifted her sooner. Next time I'll get through dry. Next time?” + he repeated. “God knows if there'll ever be any next time of that + water for me.” He paddled round the eddy toward the shore, intending + to dump the water out of his canoe. “Hello! What in thunder is that?” + Up against the driftwood, where it had been carried by the eddy, a canoe + was floating bottom upwards. “God help us!” he groaned. + “It's his canoe! My God! My God! Dick, boy, you're not lost! He'd + run these rapids. That's his style. Oh, why didn't I call him? We could + have done it together safe enough!” He stood up in his canoe and + searched eagerly among the driftwood. “Dick! Dick!” he called + over and over again in the wild cry of a wounded man. He paddled over to + the canoe and examined it. “Ah, that's where he hit the rocks, just + at the foot. But he shouldn't drown here,” he continued, “unless + they hit him. Let's see, where would that eddy take him?” For + another anxious minute he stood observing the run of the water. “If + he could keep up three minutes,” he said, “he ought to strike + that bar.” With a few sweeps of his paddle he was on the sand bar. + “Ha!” he cried. A paddle lay on the sand just above the water + mark. “That never floated there.” He leaped out and drew up + his canoe, then, dropping on his knees, he examined the marks upon the + bar. There on the sand was stamped the print of an open hand. “Now, + God be thanked!” he cried, lifting his hands toward the sky, “he's + reached this spot. He's somewhere on shore here.” Like a dog on + scent he followed up the marks to the edge of the forest where the bank + rose steeply over rough rocks. Eagerly he clambered up, his eyes on the + alert for any sign. He reached the top. A quick glance he threw around + him, then with a low cry he rushed forward. There, stretched prone on the + moss, a little pile of brushwood near him, with his match case in his + hand, lay his brother. “Oh, Dick, boy!” he cried aloud, + “not too late, surely!” He dropped beside the still form, + turned him gently over and laid his hand upon his heart. “Too late! + Too late!” he groaned. Like a madman he rushed out of the woods, + flung himself down the rocky bank and toward his canoe, seized his bag and + scrambled back again. Again, and more carefully, he felt for the + heartbeat. He thought he could detect a feeble flutter. Hurriedly he + seized his flask and, forcing open the closed teeth, poured a few drops of + the whiskey down the throat. But there was no attempt to swallow. “We'll + try it this way.” With swift fingers he filled his syringe with the + whiskey and injected it into the arm. Eagerly he waited with his hand upon + the feebly fluttering heart. “My God! it's coming, I do believe!” + he cried. “Now a little strychnine,” he whispered. “There, + that ought to help.” + </p> + <p> + Once more he rushed to his canoe and brought his cooking kit and blanket. + In five minutes he had a fire going and his tea pail swung over it with a + little more than a cupful of water in it. In five minutes more he had half + a cup of hot tea ready. By this time the heartbeat could be detected every + moment growing stronger. Into the tea he poured a little of the stimulant. + “If I can only get this down,” he muttered, chafing at the + limp hands. Once more he lifted the head, pried open the shut jaws, and + tried to pour a few drops of the liquid down. After repeated attempts he + succeeded. Then for the first time he observed that his hands were covered + with blood. Gently he lifted the head and, examining the back of it, + detected a great jagged wound. “Looks bad, bad.” He felt the + bone carefully and shook his head. “Fracture, I fear.” Heating + some more water he cleansed and dressed the wound. Half an hour more he + spent in his anxious struggle, with intense activity utilizing every + precious moment, when to his infinite joy and relief the life began to + come slowly back. “Now I must get him to the hospital.” + </p> + <p> + There were still five miles to paddle, but it was down stream and there + were no portages. With swift despatch he cut a large armful of balsam + boughs. With these and his blankets he made a bed in his canoe, cutting + out the bow thwart, then lifting the wounded man and picking his steps + with great care, he carried him to the canoe and laid him upon the balsam + boughs on his right side. The moment the weight came upon that side a + groan burst from the pallid lips. “Something wrong there,” + muttered the doctor, turning him slightly over. “Ah, shoulder out. + I'll just settle this right now.” By dexterous manipulation the + dislocation was reduced, and at once the patient sank down upon the bed of + boughs and lay quite still. A little further stimulation brought back the + heart to a steadier beat. “Now, my boy,” he said to himself, + as he took his place kneeling in the stern of the canoe, “give her + every ounce you have.” For half an hour without pause, except twice + to give his patient stimulant, the sweeping paddle and the swaying body + kept their rhythmic swing, till down the last riffle shot the canoe and in + a minute more was at the Landing. + </p> + <p> + “Duprez! Here, quick!” The doctor stood in the door of the + stopping place, wet as if he had come from the river, his voice raucous + and his face white. + </p> + <p> + “Mon Dieu!” exclaimed the Frenchman, “what de mattaire?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor swept a glance about the room. “Sick man,” he said + briefly. “I want this bed. Get your buckboard, quick.” He + seized the bed and carried it out before the eyes of the astonished + Duprez. + </p> + <p> + Duprez was a man slow of speech but quick to act, and by the time the bed + had been arranged on the buckboard he had his horse between the shafts. + </p> + <p> + “Now then, Duprez, give me a hand,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Certainment. Bon Dieu! Dat's de bon preechere! Not dead, heh?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the doctor, glancing sharply into the haggard face + while he placed his fingers upon the pulse. “No. Now get on. Drive + carefully, but make time.” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes they reached the road that led to the hospital, which was + well graded and smooth. Duprez sent along his pony at a lope and in a + short space of time they reached the door of the hospital, where they were + met by Orderly Ben Fallows on duty. + </p> + <p> + “Barney! By the livin' jumpin' Jemima Jebbs!” cried Ben. + “What on earth—” + </p> + <p> + But the doctor cut him short. “Ben, get the Matron, quick, and get a + bed ready with warm blankets and hot water bottles. Go, man! Don't gape + there!” + </p> + <p> + Still gaping his amazement, Ben skipped in through the hall and up the + stair as fast as his wooden leg would allow him. He reached the office + door. “Miss Margaret,” he gasped, “Barney's at the door + with a sick man. Wants a bed ready. We 'aven't got one—and—” + </p> + <p> + The look upon the matron's face interrupted the flow of his words. “Barney?” + she said, rising slowly to her feet. “Barney?” she said again, + her hand clutching the desk and holding hard. “What do you mean, + Ben?” The words came slowly. + </p> + <p> + “He wants a bed for a sick man and we 'aven't—” + </p> + <p> + Margaret took a step toward him. “Ben,” she said, in + breathless haste, “get my room ready. But first tell Nurse Crane to + come to me quick. Go, Ben.” + </p> + <p> + The orderly hurried away, leaving her alone. With trembling hands she shut + the door, turned toward her desk, and there stood, both hands pressed hard + to her heart, fighting hard to control the tumultuous tides that surged + through her heart and thundered in her ears. “Barney! Barney!” + she whispered. “Oh, Barney, at last!” The blue eyes were wide + open and all aglow with the tender light of her great love. “Barney,” + she said over and over, “my love, my love, my—ah, not mine—” + A sob caught her voice. Over her desk hung a copy of Hoffman's great + picture, the Christ kneeling in Gethsemane. She went close to the picture. + “O Christ!” she cried brokenly, “I, too! Help me!” + A knock came to the door, Nurse Crane entered. Margaret quickly turned + toward her desk again. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Bailey is at the door with a patient,” said the nurse. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Bailey?” echoed Margaret, not daring to look up, her + trembling hands fluttering among the papers on the desk. “Go to him, + Nurse, and get what he wants. Take my room. I shall follow in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + Once more she was alone. Again she stood before the picture of the Christ, + the words of the great submission ringing through the chambers of her + soul. “Not my will but Thine be done.” She pressed nearer the + picture, gazing into that strong, patient, suffering face through the rain + of welcome tears. “O Christ!” she whispered, “dear + blessed Christ! I understand—now. Help me! Help me!” Then, + after a pause, “Not my will! Not my will!” + </p> + <p> + The strife was past. Quietly she went to the lavatory that stood in the + corner of her office, bathed her eyes, smoothed away the signs of struggle + from her face, and went forth serene to her duty and her cross. In the + hall she met Barney. With a quick, light step she was at his side, both + hands stretched out. “Barney!” “Margaret!” was all + they said. For a moment or two Barney stood holding her hands, gazing + without a word into the sweet face, so pale, so beautiful, so serenely + strong. Twice he essayed to speak, but the words choked in his throat. + Turning abruptly away he pointed to the figure under the grey blanket on + the camp bed. + </p> + <p> + “I've brought—you—Dick,” at last he said hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Dick! Hurt? Not—” She halted before the dreaded word. + </p> + <p> + “No, injured. Badly, I fear, but I hope—” + </p> + <p> + “The room is ready,” said Nurse Crane. + </p> + <p> + At once all other thoughts and emotions gave way to the immediate demands + of their common duty. They had work to do, and they had trained themselves + to obey without thought of self that Divine call to serve the suffering. + Together they toiled at their work, Margaret noting with delighted wonder + the quick fingers and the finished skill that cleansed and probed and + dressed the wound in the head and made thorough examination for other + injury or ill, Barney keenly conscious of the efficiency of the silent, + steady helper at his side whose quick eye and hand anticipated his every + want. At length their work was done and they stood looking down upon the + haggard face. + </p> + <p> + “He is resting now,” said Barney, in a low voice. “The + fracture is not serious, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Dick,” said Margaret, passing her hand over his brow. + </p> + <p> + At her touch and voice Dick moaned and opened his eyes. Barney quickly + stepped back out of sight. For a moment or two the eyes wandered about the + room, then rested on Margaret's face in a troubled, inquiring gaze. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Dick, dear?” said Margaret, bending over him. + </p> + <p> + For answer his hand began to move feebly toward his breast as if seeking + something. + </p> + <p> + “I know. The letter, Dick?” A look of intelligence lighted the + eye. “That's all right, Dick. I shall get it to Barney. Barney is + here, you know.” + </p> + <p> + A hand grasped her arm. “Hush!” said Barney in stern command. + “Say nothing about me.” But she heeded him not. For a moment + longer the sick man's gaze lingered on her face. A faint smile of content + overspread the drawn features, then the look of intelligence faded and the + eyes closed wearily. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Barney, moving toward the door, “he is + better quiet.” + </p> + <p> + Leaving the nurse in charge, they went together toward the office. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you find him?” asked Margaret as she gave Barney a + seat. Then Barney told her the story of how he had chanced upon the canoe + and had discovered Dick lying insensible in the woods. + </p> + <p> + “It was God's leading, Barney,” said Margaret gently, when the + story was done; but to this he made no reply. “Is there serious + danger, do you think?” she inquired in an anxious voice. + </p> + <p> + “He will recover,” replied Barney. “All he requires is + careful nursing, and that you can give him. I shall wait till to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow? And then?” + </p> + <p> + “I am leaving this country next week.” + </p> + <p> + “Leaving the country? And why?” + </p> + <p> + “My work here is done.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely there is much yet to do, and you have just begun to do such + great things. Why should you leave now?” + </p> + <p> + Barney waited a few moments in silence as if pondering an answer. “Margaret, + I must go,” he finally burst forth. “You know I must go. I + can't live within touch of him and forget!” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive, you mean, Barney.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, forgive, if you like,” he replied sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “Barney,” replied Margaret earnestly, “this is unworthy + of you, and in the face of God's mercy to-day how can you hold resentment + in your heart?” + </p> + <p> + “How can I? God knows, or the Devil. For three years I have fought + it, but it is there. It is there!” He struck his hand hard upon his + breast. “I can't forget that he ruined my life! But for him I + believe in my soul I should have won—her to me! At a critical moment + he came in and ruined—” + </p> + <p> + “Barney! Barney, listen to me!” cried Margaret impetuously. + </p> + <p> + Barney sprang to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “No, you must listen to me. Sit down.” Barney obeyed her word + and sat down. “Now, hear me, and hear me fairly. I am not going to + say that Dick was free from blame, nor was Iola either. Whose was the + greater I can't tell. They were both young and, to a certain extent, + inexperienced in the ways of life. Circumstances threw them much together + and on terms of almost brotherly and sisterly intimacy. That was a + mistake. They ignored conventions that can never be safely ignored. Just + at that time Dick's life was made hard for him. His Church had rejected + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Rejected him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, rejected him. He was refused license by the Presbytery, was + branded as a heretic and outcast from work.” Margaret's voice grew + bitter. “Do you wonder that he grew hard? Perhaps they could not + help it—I can't say—but he grew hard. Yes, and worse than + that, grew away from his faith, from his friends, and from those things + that keep men straight and strong. He grew weak. The hour of temptation + came upon him. You and I have seen enough of that side of life to know + what that means. He broke faith with you—no, not with you. He was + loyal to you, but he broke faith with himself and with her. For a single + moment, that moment at which you appeared, he yielded to passion, and + bitterly, terribly, has he suffered since that moment. How terribly no one + knows. He has tried to find you, but you would not be found. He wronged + you, Barney, but you have made him and all of us suffer much.” The + voice that had gone on so bravely and so firmly here suddenly trembled and + broke. + </p> + <p> + “Made you suffer!” cried Barney, with bitter scorn. “How + can you speak of suffering? You have everything! I have lost all!” + </p> + <p> + “Everything?” echoed Margaret faintly. “Ah, Barney, how + little you know! But, no matter, God has brought you together and you must + not do this wicked thing. You must not continue to break our hearts.” + </p> + <p> + “Break your hearts? Margaret, what's the use of words? I had a + heart, too, and a brother whom I loved and trusted as myself, yes, more + than myself, and—I had—Iola. All I have lost. My work + satisfies me for a few months, but try as I can this awful thing hunts me + down and drives me mad. There is nothing in life left for me. And there + might have been much but for—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, Barney!” cried Margaret impulsively. “There is + much still left for you. God is good. How much better than we. You can't + forgive a fellow-sinner. Oh, shame! But He forgives and forgets, and + surely you ought to try—” + </p> + <p> + “Try! Try! Heavens above, Margaret! Try! Do you think I haven't + tried? That thing is there! there!” smiting on his breast again. + “Can you tell me how to rid myself of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Barney, I think I can tell you. God's great goodness will do + this for you. Listen,” she said, putting up her hand to stay his + words, “God is bringing a great joy to you to shame you and to + soften you. Here, read this.” She handed him Iola's letter, went to + the window, and stood with her back to him, looking out upon the great + sweeping valley below. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret!” The hoarse voice called her back to him. His hard, + proud, sullen reserve was shattered, gone. His lips were quivering, his + hands trembling. The girl was touched to the heart. “Margaret,” + he cried brokenly, “what does this mean?” He was terribly + shaken. + </p> + <p> + “It means that she wants you, that she needs you. Dick was going + to-morrow to bring her back to you, Barney. That was his one desire.” + </p> + <p> + “To bring her to me? To bring her back to me? Dick? Dear old boy! + and I—Oh, Margaret!” He put his trembling hands out to her. + “Forgive me! God forgive me! Poor Dick! I'll see him!” He + started toward the door. “No, not how,” he cried, striving in + vain to control himself. “I am mad! mad! For three long years I have + carried this cursed thing in my heart! It's gone! It's gone, Margaret! Do + you hear? It's gone!” He was shouting aloud. “I feel right + toward Dick, my brother!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Barney dear,” said the girl, tears running down her + face, “you will wake him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” he cried, in an eager whisper, “I'll be + careful. Poor old boy, he has suffered, too. Dear old Dick! And she wants + me! I'll go to-night! Yes, to-night! What's the date?” He tore at + the envelope with trembling hands. The letter dropped to the floor. + Margaret caught it up and opened it for him. “A month ago and more! + Yes, I'll go to-night. Oh, Margaret, what a blasted fool I am! I can't get + myself in hand.” Suddenly he threw himself into his chair. “Here!” + he ground out between his teeth, “get quiet!” He sat for a few + moments absolutely still, gathering strength to command himself. At length + he got himself in hand. “No,” he said in a quiet voice, + “I shall not go tonight. I shall wait till Dick is better. Just now + he must be kept quiet. In the morning I expect to see him very much + himself. We can only wait and see.” + </p> + <p> + Through the night they waited, Barney struggling mightily to hold himself + in perfect control, Margaret quietly doing what was to be done, her whole + spirit breathing of that self-forgetting love which finds its highest joy + in the joy of another. At the break of day the nurse came to the door and + found them still waiting. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Boyle is awake and is asking for you, Miss Robertson.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me go to him,” cried Barney. “Don't fear.” + His voice was still vibrating, but his manner was calm and steady. He was + master of himself again. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Margaret, “go to him.” Then as the + door closed she stood once more before the Gethsemane scene. “Thank + God, thank God,” she said softly, “for them the pain is over.” + </p> + <p> + For half an hour she waited and then went up to the sickroom. She opened + the door softly, went in and stood gazing till her eyes grew dim. On the + pillow, face down, Barney's head lay close to Dick's, whose arm was thrown + about his brother's neck, and on Dick's face shone a look of rapturous + peace. As Margaret moved to leave the room Dick called her in a voice + faint, but full of joy. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” he said, a smile breaking like light through a + dark cloud, “my head was broken, but I'd have all the bones in my + body broken, just to have Barney set them. We're all right, eh, boy?” + </p> + <p> + Slowly Barney raised his face, tear-marked, worn, but radiant with a peace + it had not known for many a day. “Yes, old chap,” he said in a + voice still tremulous in spite of all his self-command, “we're right + again, and, please God, we'll keep so.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI + </h2> + <h3> + TO WHOM HE FORGAVE MOST + </h3> + <p> + For three days Dick made steady progress toward health, but his progress + was slow. Any mental effort produced severe pain in his head and sufficed + to raise his temperature several points. As he gained in strength and + became more and more clear in his thinking his anxiety in regard to his + work began to increase. His congregations would be waiting him on Sunday, + and he could not bear to think of their being disappointed. With no small + effort had he gathered them together, and a single failure on his part he + knew would have disastrous effect upon the attendance. He was especially + concerned about the service at Bull Crossing, which was at once the point + where the work was the most difficult, and, at the present juncture, most + encouraging. Under his instructions Barney sought to secure a substitute + for the service at Bull Crossing, but without result. Preachers were + scarce in that country and every preacher had more work in sight than he + could overtake. And so Dick fretted and wrought himself into a fever, + until the doctor took him sternly to task. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see that it's your business to worry, Dick,” he said. + “I suppose you consider yourself as working under orders, and it is + your belief, isn't it, that the One who gives the orders is the One who + has laid you down here?” + </p> + <p> + “That's true,” said Dick wearily, “but there's the + people. A lot of them come a long way. It's been hard to get them + together, and I hate to disappoint them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'll get someone,” replied Barney. “We're a + pretty hard combination to beat, aren't we, Margaret? There will be a man + to take the service at Bull Crossing if I have to take it myself—a + desperate resort, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, Barney?” asked Dick. “You could do it well.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Did you ever hear me talk? I can talk a little with my + fingers, but my tongue is unconscionably slow.” + </p> + <p> + “There was a man once slow of speech,” replied Dick quietly, + “but he was given a message and he led a nation into freedom.” + </p> + <p> + Barney nodded. “I remember him. But he could do things.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Dick, “but he believed God could do + things.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so. That was rather long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “With God,” replied Dick earnestly, “there is no such + thing as long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same,” said Barney, “I guess these things don't + happen now.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe they happen,” replied his brother, “where God + finds a man who will take his life in his hand and go.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know about that,” replied Barney, “but I + do know that you must quit talking and sleep. Now, hear me, drop that + meeting out of your mind. I'll look after it.” + </p> + <p> + But Saturday came and, in spite of every effort on Barney's part, he found + no one for the service at Bull Crossing next day. There was still a slight + hope that one of the officials of the congregation would consent to be a + stop-gap for the day. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I'll have to take that service myself, Margaret,” + said Barney laughingly. “Wouldn't the crowd stare? They'd hear the + sermon of their lives.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be a good sermon, Barney,” replied Margaret quietly. + “And why should you not say something to the men?” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Margaret!” cried Barney impatiently. “You + know the thing is utterly absurd. What sort of man am I to preach? A + gambler, a swearer, and generally bad. They all know me.” + </p> + <p> + “They know only a part of you, Barney,” said Margaret gently. + “God knows all of you, and whatever you have been you are no gambler + today, and you are not a bad man.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Barney slowly, “I am no gambler, nor will + I ever be again. But I have been a hard, bad man. For three years I + carried hate in my heart. I could not forgive and didn't want to be + forgiven. And that, I believe, was the cause of all my badness. But—somehow—I + don't deserve it—but I've been awfully well treated. I deserved + hell, but I've got a promise of heaven. And I'd be glad to do something + for—” He paused abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “There, you've got your sermon, Barney,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “'Forgive and ye shall be forgiven.'” + </p> + <p> + “It's the sermon someone wants to preach to me, but it's not for me + to preach. The thing is preposterous. I'll get one of those fellows at the + Crossing to take the meeting.” + </p> + <p> + On Saturday evening Dick again reverted to the subject. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not anxious, Barney,” he said, “but who's going to + take the meeting to-morrow night at Bull Crossing?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, look here,” said Barney, “Monday morning you'll + hear all about it. Meantime, don't ask questions. Margaret and I are + responsible, and that ought to be enough. You never knew her to fail.” + </p> + <p> + “No, nor you, Barney,” said Dick, sinking back with a sigh of + satisfaction. “I know it will be all right. Are you going down + to-morrow evening?” he inquired, turning to Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “I?” exclaimed Margaret. “What would I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you are going. It will do you a lot of good,” said + Barney. “You may have to preach yourself or hold my coat while I go + in.” + </p> + <p> + A sudden gleam of joy in the eyes, a flush of red upon the cheek, and the + quick following pallor told Dick the thoughts that rushed through + Margaret's heart. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dick gravely, “you will go down, too, + Margaret. It will do you good, and I don't need you here.” + </p> + <p> + Many anxious days had Barney passed in his life, but never had he found + himself so utterly blocked by unmanageable circumstances and + uncompromising facts as he found facing him that Sunday morning. He + confided his difficulty to Tommy Tate, whom he had found in “Mexico's” + saloon toning up his system after his long illness, and whom he had + straightway carried off with him. + </p> + <p> + “I guess it's either you or me, Tommy.” + </p> + <p> + “Bedad, it's yersilf that c'd do that same, an' divil a wan av the + bhoys will 'Mexico' git this night, wance the news gits about.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk rot, Tommy,” said Barney angrily, for the chance + of his being forced to take his brother's place, which all along had + seemed to be extremely remote, had come appreciably nearer. With the + energy of desperation he spent the hours of the afternoon visiting, + explaining, urging, cajoling, threatening anyone of the members or + adherents of the congregation at Bull Crossing in whom might be supposed + to dwell the faintest echo of the spirit of the preacher. One after + another, however, those upon whom he had built his hopes failed him. One + was out of town, another he found sick in bed, and a third refused point + blank to consider the request, so that within a few minutes of the hour of + service he found himself without a preacher and wholly desperate, and for + the first time he seriously faced the possibility of having to take the + service himself. He returned to the shack of one of his brother's + parishioners, where Margaret was staying, and abruptly announced to her + his failure. + </p> + <p> + “Can't get a soul, and of course I can't do it, Margaret. You know, + I can't,” he repeated, in answer to the look upon her face. “Why, + it was only last week I fleeced 'Mexico' out of a couple of hundred. He + would give a good deal more to get even. The crowd would hoot me out of + the building. Not that I care for that”—the long jaws came + hard together—“but it's just too ghastly to think of.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't so very terrible, Barney,” said Margaret, her voice + and eyes uniting in earnest persuasion. “You are not the man you + were last week. You know you are not. You are quite different, and you + will be different all your life. A great change has come to you. What made + the change? You know it was God's great mercy that took the bitterness out + of your heart and that changed everything. Can't you tell them this?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell them that, Margaret? Great Heavens! Could I tell them that? + What would they say?” + </p> + <p> + “Barney,” asked Margaret, “you are not afraid of them? + You are not ashamed to tell what you owe to God?” + </p> + <p> + Afraid? It was an ugly word for Barney to swallow. No, he was not afraid, + but his native diffidence, intensified by these recent years of + self-repression and self-absorption, had made all speech difficult to him, + but more especially speech that revealed the deeper movements of his soul. + </p> + <p> + “No, Margaret, I'm not afraid,” he said slowly. “But I'd + rather have them take the flesh off that arm bit by bit than get up and + speak to them. I'd have to tell them the truth, don't you see, Margaret? + How can I do that?” + </p> + <p> + “All that you say must be the truth, Barney, of course,” she + replied. “But you will tell them just what you will.” + </p> + <p> + With these words she turned away, leaving him silent and fighting a + desperate fight. His word passed to his brother must be kept. But soon a + deeper issue began to emerge. His honour was involved. His sense of + loyalty was touched. He knew himself to be a different man from the man + who, last week, in “Mexico's” saloon, had beaten his old + antagonist at the old game. His consciousness of himself, of his life + purposes, of his outlook, of his deepest emotions, was altogether a + different consciousness. And more than all, that haunting, pursuing + restlessness was gone and, in its place, a deep peace possessed him. The + process by which this had been achieved he could not explain, but the + result was undeniable, and it was due, he knew, to an influence the source + of which he frankly acknowledged to be external to himself. The words of + the beaten and confounded pagan magic-workers came to him, “This is + the finger of God.” He could not deny it. Why should he wish to hide + it? It became clear to him, in these few minutes of intense soul activity, + that there was a demand being made upon him as a man of truth and honour, + and as the struggle deepened in his soul and the possibility of his + refusing the demand presented itself to his mind, there flashed in upon + him the picture of a man standing in the midst of enemies, the flickering + firelight showing his face vacillating, terror-stricken, hunted. From the + trembling lips of the man he heard the words of base denial, “I know + not the man,” and in his heart there rose a cry, “O Christ! + shall I do this?” “No,” came the answer, strong and + clear, from his lips, “I will not do this thing, so help me God.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret turned quickly around and looked at him in dismay. “You + won't?” she said faintly. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take the service,” he replied, setting the long jaws + firmly together. And with that they went forth to the hall. + </p> + <p> + They found the place crowded far beyond its capacity, for through Tommy + Tate it had been noised abroad that Dr. Bailey was to preach. There were + wild rumors, too, that the doctor had “got religion,” although + “Mexico” and his friends scouted the idea as utterly + impossible. + </p> + <p> + “He ain't the kind. He's got too much nerve,” was “Mexico's” + verdict, given with a full accompaniment of finished profanity. + </p> + <p> + Tommy's evidence, however, was strong enough to create a profound + impression and to awaken an expectation that rose to fever pitch when + Barney and Margaret made their way through the crowds and took their + places, Margaret at the organ, which Dick usually played himself, and + Barney at the table upon which were the Bible and the Hymn-book. His face + wore the impenetrable, death-like mark which had so often baffled “Mexico” + and his gang over the poker table. It fascinated “Mexico” now. + All the years of his wicked manhood “Mexico” had, on + principle, avoided anything in the shape of a religious meeting, but + to-day the attraction of a poker player preaching proved irresistible. It + was with no small surprise that the crowd saw “Mexico,” with + two or three of his gang, make their way toward the front to the only + seats left vacant. + </p> + <p> + When it became evident beyond dispute that his old-time enemy was to take + the preacher's place, “Mexico” leaned over to his pal, “Peachy” + Bud, who sat between him and Tommy Tate, and muttered in an undertone + audible to those in his immediate neighbourhood, “It's his old game. + He's runnin' a blank bluff. He ain't got the cards.” + </p> + <p> + But painful experience shook “Peachy's” confidence in his + friend's judgment on this particular point, and he only ventured to reply, + “He's got the lead.” “Peachy” preferred to await + developments. + </p> + <p> + The opening hymn was sung with the hearty fervour that marks the musical + part of any religious service in the West. But there was in the voices + that curious thrill that is at once the indication and the quickening of + intense excitement. + </p> + <p> + “This here'll show what's in his hand,” said “Peachy,” + when the moment for prayer arrived. “Peachy” was not + unfamiliar with religious services, and had, with unusual keenness of + observation, noted that when a man undertook to pray he must, if he be + true, reveal the soul within him. + </p> + <p> + “Mexico” grunted a dubious affirmative. But “Peachy” + was disappointed, for in a voice reverent, but unimpassioned, the preacher + for the day led the people's devotions, using the great words taught those + men long ago who knew not how to pray, “Our Father who art in + Heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “Blanked if he ain't bluffed again! We've got to wait till he begins + to shoot, I guess,” said “Peachy,” mixing his figures. + </p> + <p> + The lesson was the parable of the unforgiving debtor and the parallel + passage containing the matchless story of the sinful woman and the proud + Pharisee. In the reading of these lessons the voice, which had hitherto + carried the strident note of nervousness, mellowed into rich and subduing + fulness. The men listened with that hushed attention that they give when + words are getting to the heart. The utter simplicity of the reader's + manner, the dignity of his bearing, the quiet strength that showed itself + in every tone, and the undercurrent of emotion that made the voice vibrate + like a stringed instrument, all these, with the marvellous authoritative + tenderness of the great utterance on a theme so closely touching their + daily experience, gripped these men and held them in complete thrall. + </p> + <p> + When the reading was done the doctor stood for some moments looking his + audience quietly in the face. He knew them all, men from the camps and the + line, men from the hills and mining claims, men from the saloons and the + gambling hells. Many he had treated professionally, some he had himself + nursed back to health, others he had rescued from those desperate moods + that end in death. Others again—and these not a few—he had + “cleaned out” at poker or “Black Jack.” But to all + of them he was “white.” Not so to himself. It was a very + humble man and a very penitent, that stood looking them in the face. His + first words were a confession. + </p> + <p> + “I am not worthy to stand here before you,” he began, in a + low, clear tone, “God knows, you know, and I know. I am here for two + reasons: one is that I promised my brother, the Reverend Richard Boyle”—here + a gasp of surprise was audible from one and another in the audience—“a + man you know to be a good man, better than ever I can hope to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Durned if he is!” grunted “Peachy” to “Mexico.” + “Ain't in the same bunch!” + </p> + <p> + “An' that's thrue fer ye,” answered Tommy. But “Mexico” + paid no heed to these remarks. He was staring at the speaker with the look + of a man wholly bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “And the other reason is,” continued, the doctor, “that + I have something which I think it fair to tell you men. Like a lot of you, + I have carried a name that is not my own.” Here significant looks + were gravely exchanged. “They gave it to me by mistake when I + reached the Pass. I didn't care much at that time about names or anything + else, so I let it go. There are times in a fellow's life when he's not + unwilling to forget his name. My name is Boyle.” And then, in + sentences simple, clean-cut, and terse, he told of his boyhood days, the + Old Mill, the two boys growing up together, their love for and their + loyalty to each other, their struggles and their success. Then came a + pause. The speaker had obviously come to a difficult spot in his story. + The men waited in earnest, grave, and deeply moved expectation. “At + that time a great calamity came to me—no matter what—and it + threw me clear off my balance. I lost my head and lost my nerve, and just + then—” again the speaker paused, as if to gather strength to + continue—“and just then my brother did me a wrong. Not being + in a condition to judge fairly, I magnified the wrong a thousand-fold and + I tried to tear my brother out of my heart. I could not and I would not + forgive him, and I couldn't cease to love him. I lived a life of misery, + misery so great that it drove me from everything in earth that I held + dear, and for three years I went steadily down from bad to worse. I came + to the Crow's Nest a year and a half ago. My life since then most of you + know well.” + </p> + <p> + “Bedad we do! An' Hivin bliss ye!” burst forth Tommy Tate, who + had found the greatest difficulty in controlling his emotions of + indignation and grief during the doctor's self-condemnatory tale. At + Tommy's words a quiet thrill ran through the crowd, for few men of those + present but held the doctor in affectionate esteem. The sins of which he + was conscious and which humiliated him before them were, in their + estimation, but trivial. + </p> + <p> + For a moment the speaker was thrown off his track by Tommy's outburst, + but, recovering himself, he went on. “It would be wrong to say that + my life here has been all bad. I have been able to serve many of you, but + my work has done far more for me than it has for you. But for it I should + have long ago gone down out of sight. I confess that it has been a hard + fight for me, an awful fight, to stay at my work, but the day that I heard + that my brother was your missionary brought me the hardest fight I had had + for many a day. I wanted to get away from the past. For nearly four years + I had been carrying round a heart with hell in it. I had begun to forget a + little, but that day it all came back. This week I met my brother. I found + him dying, almost dead, up in the Big Horn Valley. That morning my heart + carried hell in it. To-day it is like what I think heaven must be.” + As he spoke these words a light broke over his face, and again he stood + silent, striving to regain control of his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Blanked if he don't hold the cards!” said “Mexico” + in a thick voice to “Peachy” Budd. + </p> + <p> + “Full flush,” answered “Peachy.” + </p> + <p> + “Mexico” was in the grasp of the elemental emotions of his + untutored nature. His swarthy face was twisted like the face of a man in + torture. His black eyes were gleaming like two fires from under his shaggy + eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “How it came about,” continued the doctor, in a quiet, even + tone, “I am not going to tell. But this I am going to say, I know it + was God's great mercy, His great kindness it was that took the hate out of + my heart. I forgave my brother that day—and—God forgave me. + That's all there is to it. It's the biggest thing that has ever come to + me. I have got my brother back just as when we were little chaps at the + Old Mill.” A sudden choke caught the speaker's voice. The firm lips + quivered and the strong hands writhed themselves in a mighty effort to + master the emotions surging through his soul. + </p> + <p> + Tommy Tate was openly sniffling and wiping his eyes. “Peachy” + Budd was swearing audibly his emotions, but, most of all, “Mexico's” + swarthy face betrayed the intensity of his feelings. He had grasped the + back of the seat before him and was leaning toward the speaker as if held + under an hypnotic spell. + </p> + <p> + Again the doctor, getting his voice steady, went on. “I have just a + word more to say. I would like to give credit for this that happened to me + to the One we have been reading about this afternoon, and I do so with all + my heart. I came near being coward enough and mean enough to go away + without owning this up before you. How He did it, I do not pretend to + know. I'm not a preacher. But He did it, and that's what chiefly concerns + me. And what He did for me I guess He can do for any of you. And now I've + got to square up some things. 'Mexico'—” At the sound of his + name “Mexico” started violently and, involuntarily, his hand + went, with a quick motion, toward his hip—“I've taken a lot + from you. I'd like to pay it back.” The voice was humble, earnest, + kind. + </p> + <p> + “Mexico,” taken by surprise, shifted his tobacco to the other + side of his mouth, stood up and drawled out, “Haow? Me? Pay me back? + Blanked if you do! It was a squar' deal, wa'n't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I played fair, 'Mexico,' but—” + </p> + <p> + “Then go to hell!” “Mexico's” tone was not at all + unfriendly, but his vocabulary was limited, and he was evidently deeply + stirred. “We're squar' an'—an' blanked if I don't believe + ye're white! Put it thar!” With a single stride “Mexico” + was over the seat that separated him from the platform and reached out his + hand. The doctor took it in a hard grip. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, men,” he said, when “Mexico” had + resumed his seat, “I've got to do something with this money. I've + got at least five thousand that don't belong to me.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tain't ours,” called a voice. + </p> + <p> + “Men,” continued the doctor, “I'm starting out on a new + track. I want to straighten out the past all I can. I can't keep this + money. I'd feel like a thief.” + </p> + <p> + But such an ethical code was beyond the men, and one and all protested to + each other, in tones that were quite audible over the hall and with + anathemas of more or less terrible import, that the money was not theirs + and that they would not touch it. The doctor listened for a minute or more + and then, with the manner of one closing a discussion, he said, “All + right. If you won't help me I'll have to find some way, myself, of + straightening this up. This is all I have to say. I'm no preacher and I'm + not any better than the rest of you, but I'd like to be a great deal + better man than I am, and, with God's help, I'm going to try. That's my + religion.” + </p> + <p> + And with these words he sat down, leaving the people still staring at him + and waiting for something in the way of closing exercises to what must + have been the most extraordinary religious service in all their + experience. Softly, Margaret began to play the old hymn, “Nearer, My + God, to Thee!” The men, accepting it as a signal, rose to their feet + and began to sing, and with these great words of aspiration ringing + through their hearts they passed out into the night. + </p> + <p> + Among the many who lingered to speak to the doctor were “Mexico,” + “Peachy,” and, of course, his faithful follower, Tommy Tate. + “Mexico” drew him off to one corner. + </p> + <p> + “Say, pard,” he began, “you've done me up many a time + before, but blanked if yeh haven't hit me this time the worst yet! When + you was talkin' about them two little chaps—” here “Mexico's” + hard face began to work and his voice to quiver—“you put the + knife right in here. I had a brother once,” he continued in a husky + voice. “I wish to God someone had choked the blank nonsense out of + me, for I done him a wrong an' I wasn't man enough to own up. An' that's + what started me in all this hell business I've been chasin' ever since.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor took him by the arm and walked him out of the room. “Take + Miss Robertson home,” he said to Tommy as he passed. + </p> + <p> + An hour later he appeared, pale and as nearly exhausted as his iron nerve + and muscle would allow him to be. “I say, Margaret, this thing is + wonderful! There's no explaining it by any physical or mental law that I + know.” Then, after a pause, he added, with an odd thrill of + tenderness in his voice, “I believe we shall hear good things of + 'Mexico' yet.” + </p> + <p> + And so they did, but that is another tale. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXII + </h2> + <h3> + THE HEART'S REST + </h3> + <p> + There is no sweeter spot in all the west Highlands of Scotland than the + valley that runs back from that far penetrating arm of the sea, Loch Fyne, + to Craigraven. There, after a succession of wild and gloomy glens, one + comes upon a sweet little valley, sheltered from the east and north winds + and open to the warm western sea and to the long sunny days of summer. It + is a valley full of balmy airs, fragrant with the scents of sea and + heather, and shut in from the roar and rush of the great world, just over + the ragged rim of the craggy hills that guard it. A veritable heaven on + earth for the nerve-racked and brain-wearied, for the heart-sick and + soul-burdened; for it was the pleasure of the lady of Ruthven Hall, a + kindly, homely mansion house that stood at the valley's head, to bring + hither such of her friends or her friends' friends as needed the healing + that soft airs and sunny days, with long quiet hours filled with love that + understands, can give. + </p> + <p> + To this spot Lady Ruthven herself had been brought, a girl fresh from the + shelter of her English home, the bride of Sir Hector Ruthven; and here for + five happy summers they had come from the strenuous life of Diplomatic + Service to find rest. Here, too, came Sir Hector, when his work was done, + still a young man, to rest under the yews in the little churchyard near + the Hall, leaving his lady with her little daughter and her infant son to + administer his vast estates. After the first sharp grief had passed, Lady + Ruthven took up her burden and, with patient courage, bore it for the sake + of the dead first, and then for the sake of the living. Round her son, + growing into sturdy young manhood, her heart's roots wound themselves, + striking deep into his life, till one day he, too, was laid beneath the + yew trees in the churchyard. From that deep shadow she came forth, bearing + her cross of service to her kind, to live a life fragrant with the airs of + Heaven, in fellowship with Him who, for love of man, daily gave Himself to + die. + </p> + <p> + It was through her nephew, Alan Ruthven, artist and poet, pure of heart + and clean of life, that Jack Charrington came to know Ruthven Hall and its + dwellers. The young men first met in London, and later in Edinburgh, where + both were pursuing their professions with a devotion that did not forbid + attention to sundry social duties, or prevent them from taking long walks + over the Lammermuirs on Saturday afternoons. To Ruthven Hall, Alan was + permitted to bring his young Canadian friend, who, he was secretly + convinced, stood sorely in need of just such benediction as his saintly + aunt could bestow. The day of Jack Charrington's coming to Ruthven Hall + was the birthday of his better life, when he had a vision of his + profession in the light of that great ministry to the world's sick and + wounded and weary by Him who came to the world “to heal.” In + another sense, too, it was for him the beginning of days, for it was the + day on which his eyes first fell upon sunny, saucy Maisie Ruthven. + Thenceforth the orbit of Jack's life swung round Ruthven Hall, and thus it + fell that when, on one of his visits to the great metropolis, he found + Iola exhausted after her season's triumphs and forbidden to sing again for + a year, and so well-nigh heart-broken, he bethought him of the little + valley of rest in the far western Highlands. Straightway he confided to + Lady Ruthven his concern for his co-patriot and friend, giving as much of + her story as he thought it well that both Lady Ruthven and her daughter + should know. Hence, when they went north to their Highland valley again, + they carried with them Iola, to be rested and nursed, and to be healed in + heart, too, if that could be. For Lady Ruthven, with her eyes made keen by + grief and love, had not been long in discovering that, with Iola, the + deeper sickness was that which no physician's medicine can reach. + </p> + <p> + Through the early summer they waited for signs of returning health to + their guest, but neither the most watchful care nor the most tender + nursing could keep the strength from gradually waning. + </p> + <p> + “She is fretting her heart out. That's the chief cause of this + terrible restlessness,” said Alan Ruthven to his friend, who was + visiting at the Hall. + </p> + <p> + “Partly,” replied Charrington gloomily, “but not + altogether, I fear. This restlessness is symptomatic. We must have Bruce + Fraser out again. But if we only could get track of Boyle it would greatly + help. She wrote yesterday to her great friend, Miss Robertson, who, more + than anyone, has kept in touch with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Charrington,” inquired Alan hesitatingly, “would you + advise that he should be looked up? Of course, you credit me with being + perfectly disinterested. I gave up my dream some time ago, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly, Ruthven, I know, but—” + </p> + <p> + “You fear I'm prejudiced. Well, I confess I am. I hate to think of a + girl like that having anything to do with a man unworthy of her, as from + what you have told me of him he must be.” + </p> + <p> + “Unworthy!” cried Jack. “Did I ever call him unworthy? + It depends upon what you mean. He gambles. He has terrific passions; but + he's a man through and through, and he's clean and honourable.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Ruthven, drawing a deep breath, “then would + to Heaven she could find him! For this fretting is like a fever in her + bones.” + </p> + <p> + “At present, we can only wait for an answer to her letter.” + </p> + <p> + And so they waited, each one of the little group vying with the other in + providing interest and amusement for the weary, restless, fevered girl. + Often, at the first, the old impatience would break out, mostly in her + talk with Charrington, at rare times to her hostess, too, but at such + times followed by quick penitence. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Lady Ruthven,” she said one day after one of her little + outbreaks, “I wish I were like you. You are so sweetly good and so + perfectly self-controlled. Even I cannot wear out your patience. You must + have been born good and sweet.” + </p> + <p> + For a few moments Lady Ruthven was silent, her mind going back swiftly to + long gone years. “No, dear,” she said gently; “I have + much to be thankful for. It was a hard lesson and slowly learned, but He + was patient and bore long with me. And He is still bearing.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how you learned,” asked Iola timidly, and then Lady + Ruthven told her life story, without tears, without repinings, while Iola + wondered. That story Iola never forgot, and the influence of it never + departed from her. Never were the days quite so bad again, but every day + while she struggled to subdue her impatience even in thought, she kept + looking for word from across the sea with a longing so intense that all in + the house came to share it with her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if we only knew where to get him!” groaned Jack + Charrington to her one day, for to Jack, who was the only link with her + happy past, she had opened her heart. “Why does he keep away?” + he added bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “It is my fault, Jack,” she replied. “He is not to + blame. No one is to blame but me. But he will come some day. I feel sure + he will come, I only hope he may be in time. He would greatly grieve if—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Iola. Don't say it. I can't bear to have you say it. You are + getting better. Why, you walked out yesterday quite smartly.” + </p> + <p> + “Some days I am so well,” she replied, unwilling to grieve + him. “I would like him to see me first on one of my good days. I am + sure to hear soon now.” + </p> + <p> + They had hardly turned to enter the house when they saw a messenger + wearing the uniform of the Telegraph Department approaching. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jack!” she cried, “there it is!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Iola,” said Jack, almost sternly, “come in and + sit down.” So saying, he brought her into the library and made her + recline upon the couch, in that sunny room near the window where many of + her waking hours were spent. + </p> + <p> + It was Alan who took the message. They all followed him into the library. + “Shall I open it?” he asked, with an anxious look at Iola. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said faintly, laying both hands upon her heart. + </p> + <p> + Lady Ruthven came to her side. “Iola, darling,” she said, + taking both her hands in hers, “it is good to feel that God's arms + are about us always.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear Lady Ruthven,” replied the girl, regaining her + composure; “I'm learning. I'm not afraid.” + </p> + <p> + Opening, Alan read the message, smiled, and handed it to her. She read the + slip, handed it to Jack, closed her eyes, and, smiling, lay back upon her + couch. “God is good,” she whispered, as Lady Ruthven bent over + her. “You were right. Teach me how to trust Him better.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you all right, Iola?” said Jack, anxiously feeling her + pulse. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, Jack, dear,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Then hooray!” cried Jack, starting up. “Let's see, + 'Coming Silurian seventh. Barney.'” he read aloud. “The + seventh was yesterday. Six days. She'll be in on the thirteenth. Ought to + be here by Monday at latest.” + </p> + <p> + “Saturday, Jack,” said Iola, opening her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'll plan for Monday. We're not going to be disappointed. + Meantime, you're not to fret.” And he frowned sternly down upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Fret?” she cried, looking up brightly. “Never more, + Jack. I shall never fret again in all my life. I'm going to build up for + these five days, every hour, every minute. I want Barney to see me well.” + </p> + <p> + It was a marvel to all the house how she kept her word. Every hour, every + minute, she appeared to gain strength. She ate with relish and slept like + a child. The old feverish restlessness left her, and she laid aside many + of her invalid ways. + </p> + <p> + “You are going down to Glasgow to-morrow, I suppose, Charrington?” + said Alan on Thursday, after the Silurian had been reported. + </p> + <p> + “I've just been thinking,” replied Jack, with careful + deliberation, “that it would be almost better you should go, + Ruthven. You see you're the man of the house, and it would be easier for a + stranger to tell him.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Charrington,” replied his friend, “you don't + often play the coward. You've simply got to go. But why should you tell?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell? He'll see it in my face. That last report of Bruce Fraser's + he would read in my eyes. I see the ghastly words yet, 'Quite hopeless. + Heart seriously involved. Cannot be long delayed.' I say, old man, I + suppose I ought to go, but you've got to come along and make talk. I'll + simply blubber right out when I see him. You know I'm awfully fond of the + old boy.” + </p> + <p> + “I say, Charrington, I've got it! Take my aunt with you.” + </p> + <p> + Jack gasped. “By Jove! The very thing! It's rough on her, but she's + the saintly kind that delights to bear other people's burdens.” + </p> + <p> + And so it was arranged that Jack and Lady Ruthven should meet the boat and + bring Barney, with all speed, to Ruthven Hall. + </p> + <p> + At the Silurian's gangway Jack received his friend with outstretched + hands, crying, “Barney, old boy, we're glad to see you! Here, let me + present you to Lady Ruthven, at whose house Iola is staying.” With + feverish haste he hurried Barney through the crowds, bustling hither and + thither about his luggage and giving himself not a moment for conversation + till they were seated in the first-class apartment carriage that was to + carry them to Craigraven. But they had hardly got settled in their places + when the conversation, in spite of all Jack's efforts, dropped to silence. + </p> + <p> + “You have bad news for me,” said Barney, looking Lady Ruthven + steadily in the face. “Has anything happened?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Dr. Boyle,” replied Lady Ruthven, a little more quickly + than was her wont, “but—” and here she paused, shrinking + from delivering the mortal stab, “but we are anxious about our dear + Iola.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me the worst, Lady Ruthven,” said Barney. + </p> + <p> + “That is all. We are very anxious. It is her lungs chiefly and her + heart. But she is very bright and very hopeful. It is better she should be + kept so.” + </p> + <p> + Barney listened with face growing grey, his eyes looking out of their deep + sockets with the piteous, mute appeal of an animal stricken to death. He + moistened his lips and tried to speak, but, failing, kept his eyes fixed + on Lady Ruthven's face as if seeking relief. Charrington turned his head + away. + </p> + <p> + “We feel thankful for her great courage,” said Lady Ruthven, + in her sweet, calm voice, “and for her peace of mind.” + </p> + <p> + At last Barney found his voice. “Does she suspect anything?” + he asked hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “I think she must, but she has said nothing. She has been eager all + summer to get back to her home—to you—to those she loved. She + will rejoice to see you.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Barney dropped his face into his hands with a low, long moan. + Jack looked out upon the fleeting landscape dimmed by the tears he dared + not wipe away. A long silence followed while, drop by drop, Barney drank + his cup to the bitter dregs. + </p> + <p> + “We try to think of the bright side,” at length said Lady + Ruthven gently. + </p> + <p> + Barney lifted his face from his hands, looked at her in dumb misery. + </p> + <p> + “There is the bright side,” she continued, “the side of + the immortal hope. We like to think of the better country. That is our + real home. There, only, are our treasures safe.” She was giving him + time to get hold of himself after the first deadly stab. But Barney made + no reply except to gravely bow. “It is, indeed, a better country,” + she added softly as if to herself, “the only place we immortals can + call home.” Then she rose. “Come, Jack,” she said, + “I think Dr. Boyle would like to be alone.” Before she turned + away to another section of the carriage, she offered him her hand with a + grave, pitying smile. + </p> + <p> + Barney bowed reverently over her hand. “I am grateful to you,” + he said brokenly, “believe me.” His face was contorted with + the agony that filled his soul. A quick rush of tears rendered her + speechless and in silence they turned away from him, and for the long hour + that followed they left him with his grief. + </p> + <p> + When they came back they found him with face grave and steady, carrying + the air of one who has fought his fight and has not been altogether + beaten. And with that same steady face he reached the great door of + Ruthven Hall. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, you will take Dr. Boyle to his room,” said Lady + Ruthven; “I shall see Iola and send for him.” But just then + her daughter came down the stairs. “Mamma,” she said in a low, + quick tone, “she wants him at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear, I know,” replied her mother, “but it will be + better that I—” + </p> + <p> + But there was a light cry, “Barney!” and, looking up, they all + saw, standing at the head of the great staircase, a figure slight and + frail, but radiant. It was Iola. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Lady Ruthven,” said Barney, and was off three + steps at a time. + </p> + <p> + “Come, children.” Swiftly Lady Ruthven motioned them into the + library that opened off the hall, where they stood gazing at each other, + awed and silent. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven help them!” at length gasped Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Let go my arm, Dr. Charrington,” said Miss Ruthven. “You + are hurting me.” + </p> + <p> + “Your pardon, a thousand times. I didn't know. This is more than I + can well stand.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be well to leave them for a time, Dr. Charrington,” + said Lady Ruthven, with a quiet dignity that subdued all emotion and + recalled them to self-control. “You will see that Dr. Boyle gets to + his room?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall go up with you, Lady Ruthven, a little later,” + replied Jack. “Yes, I confess,” he continued, answering Miss + Ruthven's look, “I am a coward. I am afraid to see him. He takes + things tremendously. He was quite mad about her years ago, fiercely mad + about her, and when the break came it almost ruined him. How he will stand + this, I don't know, but I am afraid to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “This will be a terrible strain for her, Lady Ruthven,” said + Alan. “It should not be prolonged, do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “It is well that they should be alone for a time,” she + replied, her own experience making her wise in the ways of the breaking + heart. + </p> + <p> + When with that quick rush Barney reached the head of the stairs Iola moved + toward him with arms upraised. “Barney! Barney! Have you come to me + at last?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + A single, searching glance into her face told him the dread truth. He took + her gently into his arms and, restraining his passionate longing to crush + her to him, lifted her and held her carefully, tenderly, gazing into her + glowing, glorious eyes the while. “Where?” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “This door, Barney.” + </p> + <p> + He entered the little boudoir off her bedroom and laid her upon a couch he + found there. Then, without a word, he put his cheek close to hers upon the + pillow, murmuring over and over, “Iola—Iola—my love—my + love!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Barney,” she cried, with a little happy laugh, “don't + tremble so. Let me look at you. See, you silly boy, I am quite strong and + calm. Look at me, Barney,” she pleaded, “I am hungry to look + at your face. I've only seen it in my dreams for so long.” She + raised herself on her arm and lifted his face from the pillow. “Now + let me sit up. I shall never see enough of you. Never! Never! Oh, how + wicked and how foolish I was!” + </p> + <p> + “It was I who was wicked,” said Barney bitterly, “wicked + and selfish and cruel to you and to others.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” She laid her hand on his lips. “Sit here beside + me. Now, Barney, don't spoil this one hour. Not one word of the past. You + were a little hard, you know, dear, but you were right, and I knew you + were right. I was wrong. But I thought there would be more in that other + life. Even at its best it was spoiled. I wanted you. The great 'Lohengrin' + night when they brought me out so many times—” + </p> + <p> + “I was there,” interrupted Barney, his voice still full of + bitter pain. + </p> + <p> + “I know. I saw you. Oh! wasn't that a night? Didn't I sing? It was + for you, Barney. My soul, my heart, my body, went all into Ortrud that + night.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a great, a truly great thing, Iola.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Iola, with a proud little laugh, “I think + the dear old Spectator was right when it said it was a truly great + performance, but I waited for you, and waited and waited, and when you + didn't come I found that all the rest was nothing to me without you. Oh, + how I wanted you, Barney, then—and ever since!” + </p> + <p> + “If I had only known!” groaned Barney. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Barney, we are not to go back. We are to take all the joy out + of this hour. Promise me, Barney, you will not blame yourself—now or + ever—promise me, promise me!” she cried, eagerly insistent. + </p> + <p> + “But I do, Iola.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Barney! promise me this, we will look forward, not back, will + you, Barney?” The pleading in her voice swept away all feeling but + the desire to gratify her. + </p> + <p> + “I promise you, Iola, and I keep my word.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you do, Barney. Oh, thank you, darling.” She wreathed + her arms about his neck and laid her head upon his breast. “Oh!” + she said with a deep sigh, “I shall rest now—rest—rest. + That's what I've been longing for. I could not rest, Barney.” + </p> + <p> + Barney shuddered. Only too well he knew the meaning of that fateful + restlessness, but he only held her closer to him, his heart filled with a + fierce refusal of his lot. + </p> + <p> + “There is no one like you, Barney, after all,” she murmured, + nestling down with a delicious sigh of content. “You are so strong. + You will make me strong, I know. I feel stronger already, stronger than + for months.” + </p> + <p> + Again Barney shuddered at that cruel deception, so characteristic of the + treacherous disease. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you speak to me, Barney? You haven't said a word except + just 'Iola, Iola, Iola.' Haven't you anything else to say, sir? After your + long silence you might—” She raised her head and looked into + his eyes with her old saucy smile. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to say, Iola. What need to speak when I can hold + you like this? But you must not talk too much.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me something about yourself,” she cried. “What? + Where? How? Why? No, not why. I don't want that, but all the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “It is hardly worth while, Iola,” he replied, “and it + would take a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, think what a delicious long time. All the time there is. + All the day and every day. Oh, Barney! does one want more Heaven than + this? Tell me about Margaret and—yes—and Dick,” she + shyly added. “Are they well and happy?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, darling,” said Barney, stroking her hair; “just + rest there and I'll tell you everything. But you must not exhaust + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on then, Barney,” she replied with a sigh of ineffable + bliss, nestling down again. “Oh, lovely rest!” + </p> + <p> + Then Barney told her of Margaret and Dick and of their last few days + together, making light of Dick's injury and making much of the new joy + that had come to them all. “And it was your letter that did it all, + Iola,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied gently, “it was our Father's goodness. + I see things so differently, Barney. Lady Ruthven has taught me. She is an + angel from Heaven, and, oh, what she has done for me!” + </p> + <p> + “I, too, Iola, have great things to be thankful for.” + </p> + <p> + A tap came to the door and, in response to their invitation, Lady Ruthven, + with Jack in the background, appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Dinner will be served in a few minutes, Iola, and I am sure Dr. + Boyle would like to go to his room. You can spare him, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't spare him, but I will if you let me go down to-night to + dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it wise, do you think?” said Lady Ruthven gravely. “You + must save your strength now, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I am strong. Just for to-night,” she pleaded. “I'm + not going to be an invalid to-night. I'm going to forget all about it. I + am going to eat a good dinner and I'm going to sing, too. Jack, tell them + I can go down. Barney, you will take me down. You may carry me, if you + like. I am going, Jack,” she continued with something of her old + imperious air. + </p> + <p> + Barney searched her face with a critical glance, holding his fingers upon + her wrist. She was growing excited. “Well, I think she might go down + for a little. What do you think, Charrington? You know best.” + </p> + <p> + “If she is good she might,” said Jack doubtfully. “But + she must promise to be quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “Jack, you're a dear. You're an angel. I'll be good—as good as + I can.” With which extremely doubtful promise they had to content + themselves. + </p> + <p> + At dinner none was more radiant that Iola. Without effort or strain her + wit and gaiety bubbled over, till Barney, watching her in wonder, asked + himself whether in his first impression of her he had not been mistaken. + As he still watched and listened his wonder grew. How brilliantly clever + she was! How quick her wit! How exquisitely subtle her fancy! Her mind, + glowing like a live coal, seemed to kindle by mere contact the minds about + her, till the whole table, catching her fire, scintillated with + imagination's divine flame. Through it all Barney became conscious of a + change in her. She was brighter than of old, cleverer by far. Her + conversation was that of a highly cultured woman of the world. But it was + not these that made the change. There was a new quality of soul in her. + Patience had wrought her perfect work. She exhaled that exquisite aroma of + the spirit disciplined by pain. She was less of the earth, earthy. The + airs of Heaven were breathing about her. + </p> + <p> + To Barney, with his new sensitiveness to the spiritual, this change in + Iola made her inexpressibly dear. It seemed as if he had met her in a new + and better country where neither had seen the other before. And yet it + filled him with an odd sense of loss. It was as if earth were losing its + claim in her, as if her earthward affinities were refining into the + heavenly. She was keenly interested in the story of Dick's work and, in + spite of his reluctance to talk, she so managed the conversation, that, + before he was aware, Barney was in the full tide of the thrilling tale of + his brother's heroic service to the men in the mountains of Western + Canada. As Barney waxed eloquent, picturing the perils and privations, the + discouragements and defeats, the toils and triumphs of missionary life, + the lustrous eyes grew luminous with deep inner light, the beautiful face, + its ivory pallor relieved by a touch of carmine upon lip and cheek, + appeared to shed a very radiance of glory that drew and held the gaze of + the whole company. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what splendid work!” she cried. “How good to be a + man! But it's better,” she added, with a quick glance at Barney and + a little shy laugh, “to be a woman.” + </p> + <p> + It was the anxiety in Charrington's eyes that arrested Lady Ruthven's + attention and made her bring the dinner somewhat abruptly to a close. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lady Ruthven, must we go?” cried Iola, as her hostess + made a move to rise. “What a delightful dinner we have had! Now you + are not going to send me away just yet. 'After dinner sit a while,' you + know, and I believe I feel like singing to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, my dear,” said Lady Ruthven, “do you think you + should exert yourself any more? You have had an exciting day. What does + your doctor say?” + </p> + <p> + “Barney?” + </p> + <p> + “Barney, indeed!” echoed Jack indignantly. “Oh, the + ingratitude of the female heart! Here for all these weeks I have—” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Jack. I am quite sure you won't be hard-hearted enough + to banish me.” + </p> + <p> + “An hour on the library couch, whence one can look upon the sea, in + an atmosphere of restful quiet, listening to cheerful but not too exciting + conversation,” said Jack gravely. + </p> + <p> + “And music, Doctor?” inquired Iola, with mock humility. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll sing a little myself,” replied Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear Iola,” cried Miss Ruthven, “hasten to bed, + I beg of you, and save us all. And yet, do you know, I rather like to hear + Dr. Charrington sing. It makes me think of our automobile tour in the + Highlands last year,” she continued with mischievous gravity. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Jack, much flattered, “I don't quite—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the horn, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Wretch! Now I refuse outright to sing.” + </p> + <p> + “Really? And after we had prepared ourselves for the—ah—experience.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you feel now, Iola?” said Jack, quietly placing his + fingers upon her pulse. + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly strong, I assure you. Listen.” And she ran up her + chromatics in a voice rich and strong and clear. + </p> + <p> + “Well, this is most wonderful!” exclaimed Jack. “Her + pulse is strong, even, steady. Her respiration is normal.” + </p> + <p> + “I told you!” cried Iola triumphantly. “Now you will let + me sing—not a big song, but just that wee Scotch thing I learned + from old Jennie. Barney's mother used to sing it.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Iola,” entreated Lady Ruthven, “do you think + you should venture? Do you think she should, Dr. Boyle?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't ask me,” said Barney. “I should forbid it were it + anyone else.” + </p> + <p> + “But it isn't anyone else,” persisted Iola, “and my + doctor says yes. I'll only hum, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, one only. And mind, no fugues, arpeggios, double-stoppings, + and such frills.” + </p> + <p> + She took her guitar. “I'll sing this for Barney's dear mother,” + she said. And in a voice soft, rich and full of melody, and with perfect + reproduction of the quaint old-fashioned cadences and quavers, she sang + the Highland lament, “O'er the Moor.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “O'er the moor I wander lonely, + Ochon-a-rie, my heart is sore; + Where are all the joys I cherished? + With my darling they have perished, + And they will return no more. + + “I loved thee first, I loved thee only, + Ochon-a-rie, my heart is sore; + I loved thee from the day I met thee. + What care I though all forget thee? + I will love thee evermore.” + </pre> + <p> + And then, before anyone could utter a word of protest, she said, “You + never heard this, I think, Barney. I'll sing it for you.” And in a + low, soft voice, thrilling with pathetic feeling, she sang the quaint + little song that described so fittingly her own experience, “My + Heart's Rest.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I had wandered far, and the wind was cold, + And the sharp thorns clutched, and the day was old, + When the Master came to close His fold + And saw that one had strayed. + + “Wild paths I fled, and the wind grew chill, + And the sharp rocks cut, and the day waned, till + The Master's voice searched vale and hill: + I heard and fled afraid. + + “Dread steeps I climbed, and the wind wailed on. + And the stars went out, and the day was gone, + Then the Master found, laid me upon + His bosom, unafraid.” + </pre> + <p> + A hush followed upon her song. Far down the valley the moon rose red out + of the sea, the sweet night air, breathing its fragrance of mignonette and + roses, moved the lace of the curtains at the open window as it passed. A + late thrush was singing its night song of love to its mate. + </p> + <p> + “I feel as if I could sleep now,” said Iola. “Barney, + carry me.” Like a tired child she nestled down in Barney's strong + arms. “Good-night, dear friends, all,” she said. “What a + happy evening it has been.” Then, with a little cry, “Oh, + Barney! hold me. I'm slipping,” she locked her arms tight about his + neck, lifting her face to his. “Goodnight, Barney, my love, my own + love,” she whispered, her breath coming in gasps. “How good + you are to me—how good to have you. Now kiss me—quick—don't + wait—again, dear—good-night.” Her arms slipped down from + his neck. Her head sank upon his breast. + </p> + <p> + “Iola!” he cried, in a voice strident with fear and alarm, + glancing down into her face. He carried her to the open window. “Oh, + my God! My God! She is gone! Oh, my love, not yet! not yet!” + </p> + <p> + But the ear was dull even to that penetrating cry of the broken heart, and + the singing voice was forever still from words or songs that mortal ears + could hear. In vain they tried to revive her. The tired lids rested upon + the lustrous eyes from which all light had fled. The weary heart was quiet + at last. Gently, Barney placed her on the couch, where she lay as if + asleep, then, standing upright, he gazed round upon them with eyes full of + dumb anguish till they understood, and one by one they turned and left him + alone with his dead. + </p> + <p> + For two days Barney wandered about the valley, his spirit moving in the + midst of a solemn and mysterious peace. The light of life for him had not + gone out, but had brightened into the greater glory. Heaven had not + snatched her away. She had brought Heaven near. + </p> + <p> + At first he was minded to carry her back with him to the old home and lay + her in the churchyard there. But Lady Ruthven took him to the spot where + her dead lay. + </p> + <p> + “We should be glad that she should sleep beside our dear ones here,” + she said. “You know we love her dearly.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a great kindness you are doing, Lady Ruthven,” Barney + replied, his heart responding with glad acceptance to the suggestion. + “She loved this valley, and it was here she first found rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she loves this valley,” replied Lady Ruthven, refusing + to accept Barney's tense. To her, death made no change. “And here + she found peace and perfect love again.” + </p> + <p> + A single line in the daily press brought a few close friends from London + to bury her. Old Sir Walter himself was present. He had taken such pride + in her voice, and had learned to love his pupil as a daughter, and with + him stood Herr Lindau, the German impresario, under whose management she + had made her London debut in “Lohengrin.” There in the sunny + valley they laid her down, their faces touched with smiles that struggled + with their tears. But on his face who loved her best of all there were no + tears, only a look of wonder, and of gladness, and of peace. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIII + </h2> + <h3> + THE LAST CALL + </h3> + <p> + Dick was discouraged and, a rare thing with him, his face showed his + discouragement. In the war against the saloon and vice in its various + forms he felt that he stood almost alone. + </p> + <p> + At the door of The Clarion office the editor, Lemuel Daggett, hailed him. + He hesitated a moment, then entered. A newspaper office was familiar + territory to him, as was also that back country that stretches to the + horizon from the back door of every printing office. The Clarion was the + organ of the political Outs as The Pioneer was that of the Ins. Politics + in British Columbia had not yet arrived at that stage of development + wherein parties differentiate themselves from each other upon great + principles. The Ins were in and the Outs opposed them chiefly on that + ground. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Daggett, with an air of gentle patronage, “how + did the meeting go last night?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't suppose you need to ask. I saw you there. It didn't go at + all.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Daggett, “your men are all right in their + opinions, but they never allow their opinions to interfere with business. + I could have told you every last man of them was scared. There's Matheson, + couldn't stand up against his wholesale grocer. Religion mustn't interfere + with sales. The saloons and 'red lights' pay cash; therefore, quit your + nonsense and stick to business. Hutton sells more drugs and perfumes to + the 'red lights' than to all the rest of the town and country put + together. Goring's chief won't stand any monkeying with politics. Leave + things as they are. Why, even the ladies decline to imperil their + husbands' business.” + </p> + <p> + Dick swallowed the bitter pill without a wink. He was down, but he was not + yet completely out. Only too well he knew the truth of Daggett's review of + the situation. + </p> + <p> + “There is something in what you say,” he conceded, “but—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come now,” interrupted Daggett, “you know better + than that. This town and this country is run by the whiskey ring. Why, + there's Hickey, he daren't arrest saloonkeeper or gambler, though he hates + whiskey and the whole outfit worse than poison. Why doesn't he? The + Honourable McKenty, M. P., drops him a hint. Hickey is told to mind his + own business and leave the saloon and the 'red lights' alone, and so poor + Hickey is sitting down trying to discover what his business is ever since. + The safe thing is to do nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to know all about it,” said Dick. “What's the + good of your paper? Why don't you get after these men?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir, are you an old newspaper man, and ask that? It is + quite true that The Clarion is the champion of liberty, the great moulder + of public opinion, the leader in all moral reform, but unhappily, not + being an endowed institution, it is forced to consider advertising space. + Advertising, circulation, subscriptions, these are the considerations that + determine newspaper policy.” + </p> + <p> + Dick gazed ruefully out of the window. “It's true. It's terribly + true,” he said. “The people don't want anything better than + they have. The saloon must continue to be the dominant influence here for + a time. But you hear me, Daggett, a better day is coming, and if you want + an opportunity to do, not the heroic thing only, but the wise thing, jump + into a campaign for reform. Do you think Canadians are going to stand this + long? This is a Christian country, I tell you. The Church will take a + hand.” + </p> + <p> + Daggett smiled a superior smile. “Coming? Yes, sure, but meantime + The Pioneer spells Church with a small c, and even the Almighty's name + with a small g.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Daggett,” said Dick hotly, “The Pioneer's + day is past. I see signs and I hear rumblings of a storm that will sweep + it, and you, too, unless you change, out of existence.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, my dear sir. We will be riding on that storm when it + arrives. But the rumblings are somewhat distant. I, too, see signs, but + the time is not yet. By the way, where is your brother?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see much of him. He is up and down the line, busy with his + sick and running this library and clubroom business.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Daggett thoughtfully, “I hear of him + often. The railroad men and the lumbermen grovel to him. Look here, would + he run in this constituency?” + </p> + <p> + Dick laughed at him. “Not he. Why, man, he's straight. You couldn't + buy him. Oh, I know the game.” + </p> + <p> + Daggett was silenced for some moments. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” said Daggett, looking out of the window, “here + is our coming Member.” He opened the door. “Mr. Hull, let me + introduce you to the Reverend Richard Boyle, preacher and moral reformer. + Mr. Boyle—Mr. Hull, the coming Member for this constituency.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope he will make a better fist of it than the present incumbent,” + said Dick a little gruffly, for he had little respect for either of the + political parties or their representatives. “I must get along. But, + Daggett, for goodness' sake do something with this beastly gambling-hell + business.” With this he closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “Good fellow, Boyle, I reckon,” said Hull, “but a little + unpractical, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” agreed Daggett, “he is somewhat visionary. But I + begin to think he is on the right track.” + </p> + <p> + “How? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean the West is beginning to lose its wool, and it's time this + country was getting civilized. That fool editor of The Pioneer thinks that + because he keeps wearing buckskin pants and a cowboy hat, he can keep back + the wheels of time. He hasn't brains enough to last him over night. Boyle + says he sees the signs of a coming storm. I believe I see them, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Signs?” inquired Hull. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the East is taking notice. The big corporations are being held + responsible for their men, their health, and their morals. 'Mexico,' too, + has something up his sleeve. He's acting queer, and this Boyle's brother + is taking a hand, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor, eh? Pshaw! let him.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “Not well.” + </p> + <p> + “You get next him quick. He's the coming man in this country, don't + forget it.” + </p> + <p> + Hull grunted rather contemptuously. He himself was a man of considerable + wealth. He was an old timer and cherished the old timer's contempt for the + tenderfoot. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Daggett, “you may sniff. I've watched + him and I've discovered this, that what he wants to do he does. He's an + old poker player. He has cleaned out 'Mexico' half a dozen times. He has + quit poker now, they say, and he's got 'Mexico' going queer.” + </p> + <p> + “What's his game?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't make it out quite. He has turned religious, they say. Spoke + here at a big meeting last spring, quite dramatic, I believe. I wasn't + there. Offered to pay back his ungodly winnings. Of course, no man would + listen to that, so he's putting libraries into the camps and establishing + clubrooms.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! it's a good game. But what do the boys, what does 'Mexico' + think of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that's the strangest part of it. He's got them going his way. + He's a doctor, you know, has nursed a lot of them, and they swear by him. + He's a sign, I tell you. So is 'Mexico.'” + </p> + <p> + “What about 'Mexico'?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you know 'Mexico' has been the head centre of the saloon + outfit, divides the spoil and collects the 'rents.' But I say he's acting + queer.” + </p> + <p> + Hull was at once on the alert. “That's interesting. You are sure of + your facts? It might be all right to corral those chaps. The virtue + campaign is bound to come. A little premature yet, but that doctor fellow + is to be considered.” + </p> + <p> + But the virtue campaign did not immediately begin. The whole political + machinery of both parties was too completely under the control of the + saloon and “red light” influence to be easily emancipated. The + business interests of the little towns along the line were so largely + dependent upon the support of the saloon and the patronage of vice that + few had the courage to openly espouse and seriously champion a campaign + for reform. And while many, perhaps the majority, of the men employed in + the railroad and in the lumber camps, though they were subject to periodic + lapses from the path of sobriety and virtue, were really opposed to the + saloon and its allies, yet they lacked leadership and were, therefore, + unreliable. It was at this point that the machine in each party began to + cherish a nervous apprehension in regard to the influence of Dr. Boyle. + Bitter enemies though they were, they united their forces in an endeavour + to have the doctor removed. The wires ordinarily effective were pulled + with considerable success, when the manipulators met with an unexpected + obstacle in General Manager Fahey. Upon him the full force of the combined + influences available was turned, but to no purpose. He was too good a + railway manager to be willing to lose the services of a man “who + knew his work and did it right, a man who couldn't be bullied or blocked, + and a man, bedad, who could play a good game of poker.” + </p> + <p> + “He stays while I stay,” was Fahey's last word in reply to an + influential director, labouring in the interests of the party machine. + </p> + <p> + Failing with Fahey, the allied forces tried another line of attack. + “Mexico” and the organization of which he was the head were + instructed to “run him out.” Receiving his orders, “Mexico” + called his agents together and invited their opinions. A sharp cleavage + immediately developed, one party led by “Peachy” being + strongly in favour of obeying the orders, the other party, leaderless and + scattering, strongly opposed. Discussion waxed bitter. “Mexico” + sat silent, watchful, impassive. At length, “Peachy,” in full + swing of an impassioned and sulphurous denunciation of the doctor, his + person and his ways, was called abruptly to order by a peremptory word + from his chief. + </p> + <p> + “Shut up your fool head, 'Peachy.' To hear you talk you'd think + you'd do something.” + </p> + <p> + A grim laugh at “Peachy's” expense went round the company. + </p> + <p> + “Do somethin'?” snarled “Peachy,” stung to fury, + “I'll do somethin' one of these days. I've stood you all I want.” + </p> + <p> + “Peachy's” oaths were crude in comparison with “Mexico's,” + but his fury lent them force. “Mexico” turned his baleful, + gleaming eyes upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Do something? Meaning?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” growled “Peachy.” + </p> + <p> + “Git!” “Mexico” pointed a long finger to the door. + It was a word of doom, and they all knew it, for it meant not simply + dismissal from that meeting, but banishment from the company of which + “Mexico” was head, and that meant banishment from the line of + the Crow's Nest Pass. “Peachy” was startled. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't be so blanked swift,” he growled apologetically. + “I didn't mean for to—” + </p> + <p> + “You git!” repeated “Mexico,” turning the pointing + finger from the door to the face of the startled wretch. + </p> + <p> + With a fierce oath “Peachy” reached for his gun, but hesitated + to draw. “Mexico” moved not a line of his face, not a muscle + of his body, except that his head went a little back and the heavy eyelids + fell somewhat over the piercing black eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You dog!” he ground out through his clenched teeth, “you + know you can't bring out your gun. I know you. You poor cur! You thought + you'd sell me up to the other side! I know your scheme! Now git, and + quick!” + </p> + <p> + The command came sharp like a snap of an animal's teeth, while “Mexico's” + hand dropped swiftly to his side. Instantly “Peachy” rose and + backed slowly toward the door, his face wearing the grin of a savage + beast. At the door he paused. + </p> + <p> + “'Mexico,'” he said, “is this the last between you and + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Mexico” kept his gleaming eyes fastened upon the face of the + man backing out of the door. + </p> + <p> + “Git out, you cur!” he said, with contemptuous deliberation. + </p> + <p> + “Take that, then.” + </p> + <p> + Like a flash, “Mexico” threw himself to one side. Two shots + rang out as one. A slight smile curled “Mexico's” lip. + </p> + <p> + “Got him that time, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “Hurt, 'Mexico'?” anxiously inquired his friends. + </p> + <p> + “Naw. He ain't got the nerve to shoot straight.” The bartender + and some others came running in with anxious faces. “Never mind, + boys,” said “Mexico.” “'Peachy' was foolin' with + his gun; it went off and hurt him some.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, there's blood here!” said the bartender. “He's + been bleedin' bad.” + </p> + <p> + “Guess he's more scared than hurt. Now let's git to business.” + </p> + <p> + The bartender and his friends took the hint and retired. + </p> + <p> + “Now, boys, listen to me,” said “Mexico” + impressively, leaning over the table. “Right here I want to say that + the doctor is a friend of mine, and the man that touches him touches me.” + There was an ominous silence. + </p> + <p> + “Just as you say, 'Mexico,'” said one of the men, “but I + see the finish of our game in these parts. The doctor's got the boys + a-goin' and you know he ain't the kind that quits.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right an' you're wrong. The Doc ain't the whole Government + of this country yet. His game's the winnin' game. Any fool can see that. + But we hold most of the trumps just now. So for the present we stay.” + </p> + <p> + As the meeting broke up, “Mexico's” friends warned him against + “Peachy.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! 'Peachy'!” said “Mexico” contemptuously. + “He couldn't hold his gun steady at me.” + </p> + <p> + “He's all right behind a tree, though, an' there's lots of 'em + round.” + </p> + <p> + But “Mexico” only spat out his contempt for anything that + “Peachy” could do, and went calmly on his way, “keeping + the boys in line.” But he began to be painfully conscious of an + undercurrent of feeling over which he could exercise no control. Not that + there was any lack of readiness on the part of the boys to “line up” + at the word, but there was no corresponding readiness in pledging their + support to the “same old party.” There was, on the contrary, a + very marked reserve on the part of the men who formerly, especially after + the lining up process had been several times repeated, had been + distinguished for unlimited enthusiasm for all “Mexico” + represented. They “lined up” still, but beyond this they did + not go. + </p> + <p> + The editor of The Pioneer, too, became conscious of this change in the + attitude of the men he had always counted upon to do his bidding at the + polls. “It's that cursed doctor!” he exclaimed to McKenty, the + Member for the district. “He's been working a deep game. Of course, + his brother's putting up all kinds of a fight, but we expect that and we + know how to handle him. But this fellow is different. I tell you I'm + afraid of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! He hasn't got any backing,” said McKenty. + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he hasn't got any grease, and you can't make anything go + without grease.” McKenty spoke out of considerable experience. + </p> + <p> + “That's all right as an ordinary thing, but the doctor has grease of + another kind. This library and clubroom business is catching the boys all + round.” + </p> + <p> + “I've heard about it,” said McKenty. “I guess the + Government could take a hand in libraries and institutes and that sort of + thing, too.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right,” replied the editor. “Might do some + good. But you can't beat him at that game. It isn't his libraries and his + clubs altogether or chiefly, it's himself and his work. He's a number one + doctor, and night and day he's on the road. By Jove! he's everywhere. He's + got no end of stay, confound him! I tell you he's a winner. He can get a + thousand men in a week to back him for anything he says.” + </p> + <p> + McKenty thought deeply for some moments. “Well,” he said, + finally, “something has got to be done. We can't afford, you and I, + at this stage to get out of the game. What about 'Mexico'?” + </p> + <p> + “'Mexico'!” exclaimed the editor, breaking out into profanity. + “There's the weakest spot in the whole combination, just where it + used to be strongest. The doctor's got him, body and soul. Why, 'Mexico' + 'd be after him with a gun if he stayed anywhere else when he visits town. + The best in 'Mexico's' saloon isn't quite good enough for the doctor. No, + sir! He's got a line on 'Mexico,' all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you shake him loose? There are the usual ways, you know, of + loosening up people.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear sir, I'm just telling you that the usual ways won't + work here. This combination is something quite unusual. I believe there's + some religion in it.” + </p> + <p> + McKenty laughed loud. It was a good joke. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I mean it,” said the editor, testily. “The + doctor's got it hard. Talk about conversion! You weren't at that meeting + last spring—I was—when he got up and preached us a sermon that + would make your hair curl.” And the editor proceeded to give a + graphic account of the meeting in question. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said McKenty, “I guess we can't touch the + doctor. But 'Mexico,' pshaw! we can keep 'Mexico' solid. We've got to. He + knows too much. You've simply got to get after him.” + </p> + <p> + This the editor of The Pioneer proceeded to do without delay, for, looking + out through the dusty windows of The Pioneer office, he perceived “Mexico” + sauntering down the other side of the street. + </p> + <p> + “There he is now,” he cried, going toward the door. “Hi! + 'Mexico'!” he called, and “Mexico” came slouching + across. “Ugly looking beggar, ain't he?” said the editor. + “Jaw like a bulldog. Morning, 'Mexico'!” + </p> + <p> + “Mornin',” grunted “Mexico,” nodding first to the + editor and then to McKenty. + </p> + <p> + “How is things, 'Mexico'?” said the editor, in his most + ingratiating manner. + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “How are the boys? Vote solid? Election's coming on, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Comin' on soon?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it looks that way, but really one can't say. We ought to be + ready, though.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't be too soon,” said “Mexico.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Time's agin ye. Leather pants goin' out of fashion,” with a + glance at the schapps which the editor delighted to wear. “People + beginnin' to go to meetin' in this country.” + </p> + <p> + “I hear you're going yourself a little, 'Mexico,'” said + McKenty, facetiously. + </p> + <p> + “Mexico” turned his eyes slowly upon the Member. + </p> + <p> + “Anything to say agin it?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, 'Mexico,' not at all. Good thing; but they say the + doctor's got the boys rather away from you, that you're losing your grip.” + </p> + <p> + “Who says?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I hear it everywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Guess it must be right, then,” replied “Mexico,” + grimly. + </p> + <p> + “And they say he's got a line on you, 'Mexico,' getting you right up + to the mourners' bench.” + </p> + <p> + “Do, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, 'Mexico,'” said McKenty, dropping his bantering + tone, “you're not going to let the blank preacher-doctor combination + work you, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know about that.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But I do know that there ain't any other combination kin. I'm + working for myself in this game. If any combination wants to shove my way, + they can jump in. They'll quit when it don't pay to shove, I guess. Me the + same. You fellers ain't any interest in me, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, do you imagine the doctor has?” + </p> + <p> + “Mexico” paused, then said thoughtfully, “Blanked if I + can git on to his game!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come, 'Mexico,' you can't get on to him? He's working you. You + don't really think he has your interest at heart?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't quite tell.” “Mexico” wore a vexed and + thoughtful air. “Wish I could. If I thought so I'd—” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Tie up to him tight, you bet your eternal life!” There was a + sudden gleam from under “Mexico's” heavy brows and a ring in + his usually drawling voice, that sufficiently attested his earnestness. + “There ain't too many of that kind raound.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of that?” inquired the editor, as “Mexico” + sauntered out of the door. + </p> + <p> + “Think? I think there's a law against gamblers in this province and + it ought to be enforced.” + </p> + <p> + “That means war,” said the editor. + </p> + <p> + “Well, let it come. That doctor is the whole trouble, I can see. I'd + give a thousand dollars down to see him out of the country.” + </p> + <p> + But there was no sign that the doctor had any desire to leave the country, + and all who knew him were quite certain that until he should so desire, + leave he would not. All through the winter he went about his work with a + devotion that taxed even his superb physical strength to the uttermost. In + addition to his work as Medical Superintendent of the railroad he had been + asked to take oversight of the new coal mines opening up here and there in + the Pass, which brought him no end of both labour and trouble. The + managers of the mines held the most primitive ideas in regard to both + safety in operating a mine and sanitation of miners' quarters. + Consequently, the doctor had to enter upon a long campaign of education. + It was an almost hopeless task. The directors were remote from the ground + and were unimpressed by the needs so urgently reported by their doctor. + The managers on the ground were concerned chiefly with keeping down the + expenses of operation. The miners themselves were, as a class, too well + accustomed to the wretched conditions under which they lived and worked to + make any strenuous objection. + </p> + <p> + How to bring about a better condition of things became, with the doctor, a + constant subject of thought. It was also the theme of conversation on the + occasion of his monthly visits to the Kuskinook Hospital, where it had + become an established custom for Dick and him to meet since his return + from Scotland. + </p> + <p> + “We'll get them to listen when we kill a few score men, not before,” + grumbled Barney to Dick and Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “It's the universal law,” replied Dick. “Some men must + die for their nation. It's been the way from the first.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Barney, is it wise that you should worry yourself and work + yourself to death as you are doing?” said Margaret, anxiously. + “You know you can't stand this long. You are not the man you were + when you came back.” + </p> + <p> + Barney only smiled. “That would be no great matter,” he said, + lightly. “But there is no fear of me,” he added. “I + don't pine for an early death, you know. I've got a lot to live for.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a minute or two. They were thinking of the grave in + the little churchyard across the sea. Ever since Barney's return, and as + often as they met together, they allowed themselves to think and speak + freely of the little valley at Craigraven, so full of light and peace, + with its grave beside the little church. At first Dick and Margaret shrank + from all reference to Iola, and sought to turn Barney's mind from thoughts + so full of pain. But Barney would not have it so. Frankly and simply he + began to speak of her, dwelling lovingly and tenderly upon all the details + of the last days of her life, as he had gathered them from Lady Ruthven, + her friend. + </p> + <p> + “It would be easier for me not to speak of her,” he had said + on his return, “but I've lost too much to risk the loss of more. I + want you to talk of her, and by and by I shall find it easy.” + </p> + <p> + And this they did most loyally, and with tender solicitude for him, till + at length the habit grew, so that whenever they came together it only + deepened and chastened their joy in each other to keep fresh the memory of + her who had filled so large a place, and so vividly, in the life of each + of them. And this was good for them all, but especially for Barney. It + took the bitterness out of his grief, and much of the pain out of his + loss. The memory of that last evening with Iola, and Lady Ruthven's story + of the purifying of her spirit, during those last few months, combined to + throw about her a radiance such as she had never shed even in the most + radiant moments of her life. + </p> + <p> + “There is only place for gratitude,” he said, one evening, to + them. “Why should I allow any mean or selfish thought to spoil my + memory of her or to hinder the gratitude I ought to feel, that her going + was so free from pain, and her last evening so full of joy?” + </p> + <p> + It was with these feelings in his heart that he went back to the camps to + his work among the sick and wounded in body and in heart. And as he went + in and out among the men they became conscious of a new spirit in him. His + touch on the knife was as sure as ever, his nerve as steady, but while the + old reserve still held his lips from overflowing, the words that dropped + were kinder, the tone gentler, the touch more tender. The terrible + restlessness, too, was gone out of his blood. A great calm possessed him. + He was always ready for the ultimate demand, prepared to give of his life + to the uttermost. To his former care for the physical well-being of the + men, he added now a concern for their mental and spiritual good, and hence + the system of libraries and clubrooms he had initiated throughout the + camps and towns along the line. It mattered not to him that he had to meet + the open opposition of the saloon element and the secret hostility of + those who depended upon that element for the success of their political + schemes. His love of a fight was as strong as ever. At first the men could + not fathom his motives, but as men do, they silently and observantly + waited for the real motive to emerge. As “Mexico” said, they + “couldn't get onto his game.” And none of them was more + completely puzzled than was “Mexico” himself, but none more + fully acknowledged, and more frankly yielded to the fascination of the new + spirit and new manner which the doctor brought to his work. At the same + time, however, “Mexico” could not rid himself of a suspicion, + now and then, that the real game was being kept dark. The day was to come + when “Mexico” would cast away every vestige of suspicion and + give himself up to the full luxury of devotion to a man, worthy to be + followed, who lived not for his own things. But that day was not yet, and + “Mexico” was kept in a state of uncertainty most disturbing to + his mind and injurious to his temper. Day by day reports came of the + doctor's ceaseless toil and unvarying self-sacrifice, the very magnitude + of which made it difficult for “Mexico” to accept it as being + sincere. + </p> + <p> + “What's his game?” he kept asking himself more savagely, as + the mystery deepened. “What's in it for him? Is he after McKenty's + job?” + </p> + <p> + One night the doctor came in from a horseback trip to a tie camp twelve + miles up the valley, wearied and soaked with the wet snow that had been + falling heavily all day. “Mexico” received him with a wrathful + affection. + </p> + <p> + “What the—ah—what makes you go out a night like this?” + “Mexico” asked him with indignation, struggling to check his + profanity, which he had come to notice the doctor disliked. “I can't + get onto you. It's all just d—, that is, cursed foolishness!” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, 'Mexico,' wait till I get these wet things off and I'll + tell you. Now listen,” said the doctor, when he sat warm and dry + before “Mexico's” fire. “I've been wanting to tell you + this for some time.” He opened his black bag and took out a New + Testament which now always formed a part of his equipment, and finding the + place, read the story of the two debtors. “Do you remember, + 'Mexico,' the talk I gave you last spring?” “Mexico” + nodded. That talk he would not soon forget. “I had a big debt on + then. It was forgiven me. He did a lot for me that time, and since then He + has piled it up till I feel as if I couldn't live long enough to pay back + what I owe.” Then he told “Mexico” in a low, reverent + tone, with shining eyes and thrilling voice, the story of Iola's going. + “That's why,” he said, when he concluded his tale. “That + was a great thing He did for her and for me. And then, 'Mexico,' these + poor chaps! they have so little. Who cares for them? That's why I go out + on a night like this. And don't you think that's good enough?” + </p> + <p> + Then “Mexico” turned himself loose for five minutes and let + off the sulphurous emotion that had been collecting during the doctor's + tale. After he had become coherent again he said with slow emphasis: + </p> + <p> + “You've got me, Doc. Wipe your feet on me when you want.” + </p> + <p> + “'Mexico,'” replied the doctor, “you know I don't preach + at you. I haven't, have I?” + </p> + <p> + “Blanked if—that is, no, you haven't.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you say I can have you. I'll take you right here. You are my + friend.” He put out his hand, which “Mexico” gripped and + held fast. “But,” continued the doctor, “I want to say + that He wants you more than I do, wants to wipe off that debt of yours, + wants you for His friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, Doc,” said “Mexico,” drawing back a little + from him, “I guess not. That there debt goes back for twenty years, + and it's piled out of sight. It never bothers me much except when I see + you and hear you talk. It would be a blank—that is, a pretty fine + thing to have it cleaned off. But say, Doc, your heap agin mine would be + like a sandhill agin that mountain there.” + </p> + <p> + “The size makes no difference to Him, 'Mexico,'” said the + doctor, quietly. “He is great enough to wipe out anything. I tell + you, 'Mexico,' it's good to get it wiped off. It's simply great!” + </p> + <p> + “You're right there,” said “Mexico,” emphatically. + Then, as if a sudden suspicion flashed in upon him, “Say, you're not + talkin' religion to me, are you? I ain't goin' to die just yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Religion? Call it anything you like, 'Mexico.' All I know is I've + got a good thing and I want my friend to have it.” + </p> + <p> + When the doctor was departing next morning “Mexico” stopped + him at the door. “I say, Doc, would you mind letting me have that + there book of yours for a spell?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor took it out of his bag. “It's yours, 'Mexico,' and you + can bank on it.” + </p> + <p> + The book proved of absorbing interest to “Mexico.” He read it + openly in the saloon without any sense of incongruity, at first, between + the book and the business he was carrying on, but not without very + considerable comment on the part of his customers and friends. And what he + read became the subject of frequent discussions with his friend, the + doctor. The book did its work with “Mexico,” as it does with + all who give it place, and the first sign of its influence was an + uncomfortable feeling in “Mexico's” mind in regard to his + business and his habits of life. His discomfort became acute one pay + night, after a very successful game of poker in which he had relieved some + half a dozen lumbermen of their pay. For the first time in his life his + winnings brought him no satisfaction. The great law of love to his brother + troubled him. In vain he argued that it was a fair deal and that he + himself would have taken his loss without whining. The disturbing thoughts + would not down. He determined that he would play no more till he had + talked the matter over with his friend, and he watched impatiently for the + doctor's return. But that week the doctor failed to appear, and “Mexico” + grew increasingly uncertain in his mind and in his temper. It added to his + wretchedness not a little when the report reached him that the doctor was + confined to his bed in the hospital at Kuskinook. In fact, this news + plunged “Mexico” into deepest gloom. + </p> + <p> + “If he's took to bed,” he said, “there ain't much hope, + I guess, for they'd never get him there unless he was too far gone to + fight 'em off.” + </p> + <p> + But at the Kuskinook Hospital there was no anxiety felt in regard to the + doctor's illness. He was run down with the fall and winter's work. He had + caught cold, a slight inflammation had set up in the bowels, and that was + all. The inflammation had been checked and in a few days he would be on + his feet again. + </p> + <p> + “If we could only work a scheme to keep him in bed a month,” + groaned Dick to his nurse as they stood beside his bed. + </p> + <p> + “There is, unhappily, no one in authority over him,” replied + Margaret, “but we'll keep him ill as long as we can. Dr. Cotton,” + and here she smilingly appealed to the newly appointed assistant, “you + will help, I am sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Most certainly. Now we have him down we shall combine to keep him + there.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a month at the very least,” cried Dick. + </p> + <p> + But Barney laughed their plans to scorn. In two days he promised them he + would be fit again. + </p> + <p> + “It is the Superintendent of the Hospital against the Medical + Superintendent of the Crow's Nest Railway,” said Dr. Cotton, “and + I think in this case I'll back the former, from what I've seen.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” replied Margaret, “that is because you haven't + known your patient long, Doctor. When he speaks the word of command we + simply obey.” + </p> + <p> + And that is just what happened. On the afternoon of the second day, when + both the doctor and Dick had gone off to their work and Barney had + apparently fallen into a quiet sleep, the silence that reigned over the + flat was broken by Ben Fallows coming up the stair with a telegram in his + hand. + </p> + <p> + “It's fer the doctor,” said Ben, “an' the messenger said + as 'ow 'Mexico' had got shot and—” + </p> + <p> + Swiftly Margaret closed the door of the room in which Barney lay. Ben's + voice, though not loud, was of a peculiarly penetrating quality. Two words + had caught Barney's ear, “Mexico” and “shot.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me have the wire,” he said quietly, when Margaret came + in. + </p> + <p> + “I intended to give it to you, Barney,” she replied as + quietly. “You will do nothing rash, I am sure, and you always know + best.” + </p> + <p> + Barney opened the telegram and read, “'Mexico' shot. Bullet not + found. Wants doctor to come if possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Cotton is not in?” inquired Barney. + </p> + <p> + “He is gone up the Big Horn.” + </p> + <p> + “We can't possibly get him to-night,” replied Barney. + </p> + <p> + Silently they looked at each other, thinking rapidly. They each knew that + the other was ready to do the best, no matter at what cost. + </p> + <p> + “Take my temperature, Margaret.” It was nine-nine and + one-fifth. “That's not bad,” said Barney. “Margaret, I + must go. It's for 'Mexico's' life. Yes, and more.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret turned slightly pale. “You know best, Barney,” she + said, “but it may be your life, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied gravely. “I take that chance. But I + think I ought to take it, don't you?” But Margaret refused to speak. + “What do you think, Margaret?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Barney!” she cried, with passionate protest, “why + should you give your life for him?” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” he repeated slowly. “There was One who gave His + life for me. Besides,” he added, after a pause, “there's a + fair chance that I can get through.” + </p> + <p> + She threw herself on her knees beside his bed. “No, Barney, there's + almost no chance, you know and I know, and I can't let you go now!” + The passionate love in her voice and in her eyes startled him. Gravely, + earnestly, his eyes searched her face and read her heart. Slowly the + crimson rose in her cheeks and flooded the fair face and neck. She buried + her face in the bed. Gently he laid his hand upon her head, stroking the + golden hair. For some moments they remained thus, silent. Then, refusing + to accept the confession of her word and look and act, he said, in a voice + grave and kind and tender, “You expect me to do right, Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + A shudder ran through the kneeling girl. Once more the cup of renunciation + was being pressed to her lips. To the last drop she drained it, then + raised her head. She was pale but calm. The bright blue eyes looked into + his bravely while she answered simply, “You will do what is right, + Barney.” + </p> + <p> + Just as he was about to start on his journey another wire came in. “Didn't + know you were so ill. Don't you come. I'm all right. 'Mexico.'” A + rumour of the serious nature of the doctor's illness had evidently reached + “Mexico,” and he would not have his friend risk his life for + him. A fierce storm was raging. The out train was hours late, but a light + engine ran up from the Crossing and brought the doctor down. + </p> + <p> + When he entered the sick man's room “Mexico” glanced into his + face. “Good Lord, Doctor!” he cried, “you shouldn't have + come! You're worse than me!” + </p> + <p> + “All right, 'Mexico,'” replied the doctor cheerfully. “I + had to come, you know. We can't go back on our friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Mexico” kept his eyes fastened on the doctor's face. His lips + began to tremble. He put out his hand and clutched the doctor's hard. + “I know now,” he said hoarsely, “why He let 'em kill + Him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't go back on His friends, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “You've got it, 'Mexico,' old man. Pretty good, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet! Now, Doc, get through quick and get to bed.” + </p> + <p> + The bullet was found in the lung and safely extracted. It was a nasty + wound and dangerous, but in half an hour “Mexico” was resting + quietly. Then the doctor lay down on a couch near by and tossed till + morning, conscious of a return of the pain and fever. The symptoms he well + knew indicated a very serious condition. When “Mexico” woke + the doctor examined him carefully. + </p> + <p> + “You're fine, 'Mexico.' You'll be all right in a week or two. Keep + quiet and obey orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Mexico's” hand grasped him. “Doc,” he said + anxiously, “you look awful bad. Can't you get to bed quick? You're + going to be terrible sick.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I'm going to be pretty bad, 'Mexico,' but I'm glad I + came. I couldn't have stayed away, could I? Remember that, 'Mexico.' I'm + glad I came.” + </p> + <p> + “Mexico's” fierce black eyes softened. “Doc, I'm sorry + and I'm glad. I had a lot of things to ask, but I don't need to. I know + now. And I want to tell you, I've quit all that business, cut it right + out.” He waved his hand toward the bar. + </p> + <p> + “'Mexico,'” said Barney earnestly, “that's great! That's + the best news I've had all summer. Now I must get back quick.” He + took the gambler's hand in his. “Good-bye, 'Mexico.'” His + voice was earnest, almost solemn. “You've done me a lot of good. + Good-bye, old boy. Play the game. He'll never go back on a friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Mexico” reached out and held him with both hands. “Git + out,” he said to the attendant. “Doc,” his voice dropped + to a hoarse whisper as he drew the doctor down to him, “there ain't + nobody here, is there?” he asked, with a glance round the room. + </p> + <p> + “No, 'Mexico,' no one.” + </p> + <p> + “Doc,” he began again, his strong frame shaking, “I + can't say it. It's all in here till it hurts. You're—you're like + Him, I think. You make me think o' Him.” + </p> + <p> + Barney dropped quickly on his knees beside the bed, threw his arms about + his friend, and held him for a few moments in a tight embrace. “God + bless you, 'Mexico,' for that word,” he said. “Goodbye, my + friend.” + </p> + <p> + They held each other fast for a moment or two, looking into each other's + eyes as if taking a last farewell. Then Barney took his journey through + the storm, which was still raging, his fever mounting higher with every + moment, back to the hospital, where Margaret received him with a brave + welcoming smile. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Cotton has returned,” she announced. “And Dr. + Neeley of Nelson is here, Barney.” + </p> + <p> + He gave her a look of understanding. He knew well what she meant. “That + was right, Margaret. And Dick?” + </p> + <p> + “Dick will be here this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “You think of everything, Margaret dear, and everybody except + yourself,” said Barney, as he made his way painfully up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Let me help you, Barney,” she said, putting her arms about + him. “You're the one who will not think of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “We've all been learning from you, Margaret. And it is the best + lesson, after all.” + </p> + <p> + The consultation left no manner of doubt as to the nature of the trouble + and the treatment necessary. It was appendicitis, and it demanded + immediate operation. + </p> + <p> + “We can wait till my brother comes, can't we, Doctor?” Barney + asked, a little anxiously. “An hour can't make much difference now, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly we shall wait,” cried the doctor. + </p> + <p> + Twenty miles through the storm came Dick, in answer to Margaret's urgent + message, to find his brother dangerously ill and preparing for a serious + operation. The meeting of the brothers was without demonstration of + emotion. Each for the sake of the other held himself firmly in hand. The + issues were so grave that there was no room for any expenditure of + strength and indulging in the luxury of grief. Quietly, Barney gave his + brother the few directions necessary to the disposal of his personal + effects. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, Dick, I expect to get through all right,” he said, + with cheerful courage. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” answered Dick, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “But it's just as well to say things now when one can think quietly.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, Barney,” said Dick again, his voice steady and + even. + </p> + <p> + The remaining minutes they spent in almost complete silence, except for a + message of remembrance for the mother and the father far away; then the + doctor came to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ready, Doctor?” said Dick, in a firm, almost cheerful + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we're all ready.” + </p> + <p> + “A minute, Doctor, please,” said Barney. + </p> + <p> + The doctor backed out of the room, leaving the brothers alone. + </p> + <p> + “Just a little, word, Dick.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Barney,” cried his brother, his breast heaving in a great + sob, “I don't think I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind then, old chap,” replied Barney, putting out his + hand to him. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute, Barney. I will,” said Dick, instantly + regaining hold of himself. As he spoke he knelt by the bed, took his + brother's hand in both of his and, holding it to his face, spoke quietly + and simply his prayer, closing with the words, “And O, my Father, + keep my brother safe.” “And mine,” added Barney. “Amen.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Dick, old boy, we're all ready.” And with a smile he met + the doctor at the door. + </p> + <p> + In an hour all was over, and the grave faces of the doctor and the nurse + told Dick all he dared not ask. + </p> + <p> + “How long before he will be quite conscious again?” he + inquired. + </p> + <p> + “It will be an hour at least,” replied the surgeon, kindly, + “before he can talk much.” + </p> + <p> + Without a word to anyone, Dick went away to his room, locked the door upon + his lonely fight and came forth when the hour was gone, ready to help his + brother if he should chance to need help for “the last weariness, + the final strife.” + </p> + <p> + “We must help him,” he said to Margaret as they stood together + waiting till he should waken. “We must forget our side just now.” + </p> + <p> + But he need not have feared for her, nor for Barney. Through the night + they watched him grow weaker, watched not in growing gloom, but, as it + were, in an atmosphere bright with the light of hope and warm with strong + and tender love. At times Barney would wander in his delirium, but a word + would call him back to them. As the end drew near, by Nature's kindly + ministry the pain departed. + </p> + <p> + “This is not too bad, Dick,” he said. “How much worse it + might have been. He brought us two together again—us three,” + he corrected, glancing at Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Barney,” replied Dick, “nothing matters much + beside that.” + </p> + <p> + “And then,” continued his brother, “He let me do a + little work for the boys, for 'Mexico.' Poor 'Mexico'! But he'll stick, I + think. Help him, Dick. He is my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine, too, Barney,” said Dick; “mine forever.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor chaps, they need me. What a chance for some man!—for a + doctor, I mean!” + </p> + <p> + “We'll get someone, Barney. Never fear.” + </p> + <p> + “What a chance!” he murmured again, wearily, as he fell + asleep. + </p> + <p> + Day dawned clear and still. The storm was gone, the whole world was at + peace. The mountains and the wide valleys lay beautiful in their unsullied + robes of purest white, and, over all, the rising sun cast a rosy sheen. As + Margaret rolled up the blinds and drew back the curtains, letting in the + glory of the morning, Barney opened his eyes and turned his face toward + the window, moving his lips in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + Bending over him his brother caught the words, “Night no more.” + The great day was dawning for him. With a long, lingering look upon the + mountains, he turned his eyes away from the window and let them rest upon + his brother's face. “It is near now, Dick—I think—and + it's not hard at all. I'd like to sleep out there—under the pines—but + I think mother—would like—to have me near.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Barney, my boy. We'll take you home to mother.” Dick's + voice was steady and clear. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” said Barney. She came and knelt where he could see + her. An odd little smile played over his face. “I wasn't worth it, + Margaret—but I thank you—I like to think of it now—I + would like you—to kiss me.” She kissed him on the lips once, + twice, for a single moment her superb courage faltering as she whispered + in his ear, “Barney, my love! my love!” + </p> + <p> + Again he smiled up at her. “Margaret,” he said, “take + care—of Dick—for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Barney, I will.” The brave blue eyes and the clear, + sweet voice carried full conviction to his mind. + </p> + <p> + “I know you will,” he said with a sigh of content. For a long + time he lay still, his eyes closed, his breathing growing more rapid. + Suddenly he opened his eyes, turned himself toward his brother. “Dick, + my boy,” he cried, in a clear, strong voice, “my brother—my + brother.” He lifted up both his arms and wound them round Dick's + neck, drew a deep breath, then another. They waited anxiously. Then one + more. Again they waited, tense and breathless, but the eternal silence had + fallen. + </p> + <p> + “He's gone, Margaret!” cried Dick, in a voice of piteous + surprise, lifting up a white appealing face to her. “He's gone! Oh! + he has left us!” + </p> + <p> + She came quickly round to him and knelt at his side. “We have only + each other now, Dick,” she said, and took him in her arms. And so, + in the strength of the great love that bound them to the dead, they found + courage to turn again and live. + </p> + <p> + Three days later, when the road was clear again, they bore him through the + Pass, the General Manager placing his private car at their disposal. It + was no poor funeral. It was rather the triumphal procession of a king. At + every station stood a group of men, silent and sorrow-stricken. It was + their friend who was being carried past. At Bull Crossing a longer stay + was made. The station house and platform and the street behind were + blocked with men who had gathered in from the lumber camps and from down + the line. One of their number came up, bearing a large wreath of the + costliest flowers brought from the far south, and laid it on the bier. The + messenger stood there a moment and then said, hesitatingly, “The men + would like to see him again, if you think best.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell them to come,” replied Dick, quickly, proceeding to + uncover the face. For almost an hour they filed past, solemn, silent for + the most part, but many weeping as only strong men can weep. But as they + looked upon the strong dead face, its serene dignity, its proud look of + triumph subdued their sobbing, and they passed out awed and somewhat + comforted. The look on that dead face forbade pity. They might grieve for + the loss of their friend, but to him the best had come. + </p> + <p> + By Margaret's side stood Tommy Tate, till the last. “Ochone!” + he sobbed, “when I think of mesilf me heart is bruck entirely, but + when I luk at him I feel no pain at all.” It was the feeling in the + hearts of all. For themselves they must weep, but not for him. + </p> + <p> + At length, all had gone. “Could you say a word to them, Dick?” + said Margaret. “I think he would like it.” And Dick, drawing a + deep breath, went forth to them. His words were few and simple. “We + must not speak words of grief to-day. He was glad to help you and he grew + to love you as his friends. In his last hours he thought of you. I know + you will not forget him. But were he giving me my words to-day, he would + not ask me to speak of him, but of the One who made him what he was, Whom + he loved and served with his life. For His sake it was, and for yours, + that he gave himself to you.” + </p> + <p> + As his voice ceased a commotion rose at the back of the crowd. A sleigh + dashed up, two men got out, helping a third, before whom the crowd quickly + made way. It was “Mexico,” pale, feeble, leaning heavily upon + his friends. He came up to Dick. “May I see him?” he asked + humbly. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said Dick, giving him both his hands and lifting + him on to the platform, while a great sob swept over the crowd. They all + knew by this time that it was to save “Mexico” the doctor had + given his life. With heads bared they waited till “Mexico” + came out again. As he appeared on the platform of the car with Dick's arm + supporting him, the men gazed at him in deathly stillness. The ghastly + face with its fierce, gleaming eyes held them as with a spell. For a + moment “Mexico” stood leaning heavily upon Dick, but suddenly + he drew himself erect. + </p> + <p> + “Boys,” he said, his voice hoarse and broken, but distinctly + audible over the crowd, “he died because he wouldn't go back on his + friend. He gave me this.” He took from his breast the New Testament, + held it up and carried it reverently to his lips. “I'm a-goin' to + follow that trail.” + </p> + <p> + Two thousand miles and more they carried him home to his mother, and then + to the old churchyard, where he sleeps still, forgotten, perhaps, even by + many who had known and played with him in his boyhood, but remembered by + the men of the mountains who had once felt the touch of that strong love + that gave the best and freely for their sakes, and for His Whom it was his + pride and joy to call Master and Friend. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> + </p> + <h2> + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIV + </h2> + <h3> + FOR LOVE'S SAKE + </h3> + <p> + Again it was June, and over all the fields Nature's ancient miracle had + been wrought. The trees by the snake fences stood in the full pride of + their rich leafage, casting deep shadows on the growing grains. As of old, + the Mill lane, with its velvet grassy banks, ran between snake fences, + sweet-scented, cool, and shaded. Between the rails peeped the clover, red + and white. Over the top rail nodded the rich berries of the dogwood, while + the sturdy thorns held bravely aloft their hard green clusters waiting the + sun's warm passion. The singing voices of summer were all a-throb, filling + the air with great antiphonies of praise, till this good June day was + fairly wild with the sheer joy of life. + </p> + <p> + At the crest of the hill Margaret paused. This was Barney's spot. “I'll + wait here,” she said to herself, a faint flush lighting up the + chaste beauty of her face. But the hot sun beat down upon her with his + fierce rays. “I must get into the shade,” she said, climbed + the fence, and, on the fragrant masses of red clover, threw herself down + in the shade of the thorn tree. On this spot, how vividly the past came to + her. How well she remembered the heartache of that day so long ago. The + ache would never quite be gone, but with it mingled now a sweetness that + only love knows how to distil from pity where trust is and high esteem. + </p> + <p> + A year had passed since she had sent Dick back alone to his work, + remaining herself to bring the lonely hearts of the Old Mill such help and + comfort as she could. At the parting with him, Barney's words, “Take + care of Dick for me,” had moved her to offer with shy courage to go + back with him. But Dick was far too generous to avail himself of any such + persuasion. + </p> + <p> + “You must not come to me for pity,” he said, bidding her + good-bye. + </p> + <p> + But throughout the year she had waited, listening to her heart and + wondering at its throbs, as from time to time the story of Dick's heroic + service came to her ears; and now the year was done. Last night he had + returned. To-day he would come to her. She would meet him here. Ah, there + he was now. On the crest of the hill he would turn and look toward her. + There, he had turned. + </p> + <p> + As Dick caught sight of her he raised his voice in a shout, “Margaret!” + and came running toward her. + </p> + <p> + She rose, and with her hands pressed hard upon her heart to quiet the + throbbing that threatened to choke her, she stood waiting him. + </p> + <p> + Touching a top rail, he vaulted lightly over the fence and stood there + waiting. “Margaret!” he cried again, with a note of anxiety in + his voice that trembled under the intensity of his feeling. + </p> + <p> + But still she could not move for the tumult of joy that possessed her. + “Oh, I am so glad,” she whispered to herself. Dick came toward + her slowly, almost timidly, it seemed to her. He took her hands down from + her breast, held her at arm's length, seeking to read the meaning in the + blue eyes lifted so bravely to his. + </p> + <p> + “For pity's sake, Margaret?” he asked, the note of anxiety + deepening in his voice. + </p> + <p> + For a moment she stood pouring her heart's love into his eyes. “Yes,” + she said, shyly dropping her eyes before his ardent gaze, “and for + love's sake, too.” + </p> + <p> + And for Dick the day's gladness grew riotous, filling his world full from + earth to heaven above. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Doctor, by Ralph Connor + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOCTOR *** + +***** This file should be named 3242-h.htm or 3242-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/4/3242/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous onethe old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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