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diff --git a/old/3245.txt b/old/3245.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d84847b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/3245.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6877 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Black Rock, 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: Black Rock + +Author: Ralph Connor + +Release Date: May 30, 2006 [EBook #3245] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLACK ROCK *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson + + + + + +BLACK ROCK + +A TALE OF THE SELKIRKS + + +By Ralph Connor + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +I think I have met "Ralph Conner." Indeed, I am sure I have--once in a +canoe on the Red River, once on the Assinaboine, and twice or thrice on +the prairies to the West. That was not the name he gave me, but, if I +am right, it covers one of the most honest and genial of the strong +characters that are fighting the devil and doing good work for men +all over the world. He has seen with his own eyes the life which he +describes in this book, and has himself, for some years of hard and +lonely toil, assisted in the good influences which he traces among its +wild and often hopeless conditions. He writes with the freshness and +accuracy of an eye-witness, with the style (as I think his readers will +allow) of a real artist, and with the tenderness and hopefulness of a +man not only of faith but of experience, who has seen in fulfillment the +ideals for which he lives. + +The life to which he takes us, though far off and very strange to our +tame minds, is the life of our brothers. Into the Northwest of Canada +the young men of Great Britain and Ireland have been pouring (I was +told), sometimes at the rate of 48,000 a year. Our brothers who left +home yesterday--our hearts cannot but follow them. With these pages +Ralph Conner enables our eyes and our minds to follow, too; nor do I +think there is any one who shall read this book and not find also that +his conscience is quickened. There is a warfare appointed unto man upon +earth, and its struggles are nowhere more intense, nor the victories of +the strong, nor the succors brought to the fallen, more heroic, than on +the fields described in this volume. + +GEORGE ADAM SMITH. + + + +BLACK ROCK + + +The story of the book is true, and chief of the failures in the making +of the book is this, that it is not all the truth. The light is not +bright enough, the shadow is not black enough to give a true picture of +that bit of Western life of which the writer was some small part. The +men of the book are still there in the mines and lumber camps of the +mountains, fighting out that eternal fight for manhood, strong, clean, +God-conquered. And, when the west winds blow, to the open ear the sounds +of battle come, telling the fortunes of the fight. + +Because a man's life is all he has, and because the only hope of the +brave young West lies in its men, this story is told. It may be that the +tragic pity of a broken life may move some to pray, and that that divine +power there is in a single brave heart to summon forth hope and courage +may move some to fight. If so, the tale is not told in vain. + +C.W.G. + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER I + +CHRISTMAS EVE IN A LUMBER CAMP + + +CHAPTER II + +THE BLACK ROCK CHRISTMAS + + +CHAPTER III + +WATERLOO. OUR FIGHT--HIS VICTORY + + +CHAPTER IV + +MRS. MAVOR'S STORY + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MAKING OF THE LEAGUE + + +CHAPTER VI + +BLACK ROCK RELIGION + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE FIRST BLACK ROCK COMMUNION + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE BREAKING OF THE LEAGUE + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE LEAGUE'S REVENGE + + +CHAPTER X + +WHAT CAME TO SLAVIN + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE TWO CALLS + + +CHAPTER XII + +LOVE IS NOT ALL + + +CHAPTER XIII + +HOW NELSON CAME HOME + + +CHAPTER XIV + +GRAEME'S NEW BIRTH + + +CHAPTER XV + +COMING TO THEIR OWN + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +CHRISTMAS EVE IN A LUMBER CAMP + + +It was due to a mysterious dispensation of Providence, and a good deal +to Leslie Graeme, that I found myself in the heart of the Selkirks for +my Christmas Eve as the year 1882 was dying. It had been my plan to +spend my Christmas far away in Toronto, with such Bohemian and boon +companions as could be found in that cosmopolitan and kindly city. But +Leslie Graeme changed all that, for, discovering me in the village of +Black Rock, with my traps all packed, waiting for the stage to start +for the Landing, thirty miles away, he bore down upon me with resistless +force, and I found myself recovering from my surprise only after we had +gone in his lumber sleigh some six miles on our way to his camp up in +the mountains. I was surprised and much delighted, though I would not +allow him to think so, to find that his old-time power over me was still +there. He could always in the old 'Varsity days--dear, wild days--make +me do what he liked. He was so handsome and so reckless, brilliant in +his class-work, and the prince of half-backs on the Rugby field, and +with such power of fascination, as would 'extract the heart out of a +wheelbarrow,' as Barney Lundy used to say. And thus it was that I +found myself just three weeks later--I was to have spent two or three +days,--on the afternoon of the 24th of December, standing in Graeme's +Lumber Camp No. 2, wondering at myself. But I did not regret my changed +plans, for in those three weeks I had raided a cinnamon bear's den and +had wakened up a grizzly--But I shall let the grizzly finish the tale; +he probably sees more humour in it than I. + +The camp stood in a little clearing, and consisted of a group of three +long, low shanties with smaller shacks near them, all built of heavy, +unhewn logs, with door and window in each. The grub camp, with cook-shed +attached, stood in the middle of the clearing; at a little distance was +the sleeping-camp with the office built against it, and about a hundred +yards away on the other side of the clearing stood the stables, and near +them the smiddy. The mountains rose grandly on every side, throwing up +their great peaks into the sky. The clearing in which the camp stood was +hewn out of a dense pine forest that filled the valley and climbed half +way up the mountain-sides, and then frayed out in scattered and stunted +trees. + +It was one of those wonderful Canadian winter days, bright, and with a +touch of sharpness in the air that did not chill, but warmed the blood +like draughts of wine. The men were up in the woods, and the shrill +scream of the blue jay flashing across the open, the impudent chatter +of the red squirrel from the top of the grub camp, and the pert chirp of +the whisky-jack, hopping about on the rubbish-heap, with the long, lone +cry of the wolf far down the valley, only made the silence felt the +more. + +As I stood drinking in with all my soul the glorious beauty and the +silence of mountain and forest, with the Christmas feeling stealing into +me, Graeme came out from his office, and, catching sight of me, called +out, 'Glorious Christmas weather, old chap!' And then, coming nearer, +'Must you go to-morrow?' + +'I fear so,' I replied, knowing well that the Christmas feeling was on +him too. + +'I wish I were going with you,' he said quietly. + +I turned eagerly to persuade him, but at the look of suffering in his +face the words died at my lips, for we both were thinking of the awful +night of horror when all his bright, brilliant life crashed down about +him in black ruin and shame. I could only throw my arm over his shoulder +and stand silent beside him. A sudden jingle of bells roused him, and, +giving himself a little shake, he exclaimed, 'There are the boys coming +home.' + +Soon the camp was filled with men talking, laughing, chaffing, like +light-hearted boys. + +'They are a little wild to-night,' said Graeme; 'and to morrow they'll +paint Black Rock red.' + +Before many minutes had gone, the last teamster was 'washed up,' and +all were standing about waiting impatiently for the cook's signal--the +supper to-night was to be 'something of a feed'--when the sound of +bells drew their attention to a light sleigh drawn by a buckskin broncho +coming down the hillside at a great pace. + +'The preacher, I'll bet, by his driving,' said one of the men. + +'Bedad, and it's him has the foine nose for turkey!' said Blaney, a +good-natured, jovial Irishman. + +'Yes, or for pay-day, more like,' said Keefe, a black-browed, villainous +fellow-countryman of Blaney's, and, strange to say, his great friend. + +Big Sandy M'Naughton, a Canadian Highlander from Glengarry, rose up in +wrath. 'Bill Keefe,' said he, with deliberate emphasis, 'you'll just +keep your dirty tongue off the minister; and as for your pay, it's +little he sees of it, or any one else, except Mike Slavin, when you're +too dry to wait for some one to treat you, or perhaps Father Ryan, when +the fear of hell-fire is on to you.' + +The men stood amazed at Sandy's sudden anger and length of speech. + +'Bon; dat's good for you, my bully boy,' said Baptiste, a wiry little +French-Canadian, Sandy's sworn ally and devoted admirer ever since the +day when the big Scotsman, under great provocation, had knocked him +clean off the dump into the river and then jumped in for him. + +It was not till afterwards I learned the cause of Sandy's sudden wrath +which urged him to such unwonted length of speech. It was not simply +that the Presbyterian blood carried with it reverence for the +minister and contempt for Papists and Fenians, but that he had a vivid +remembrance of how, only a month ago, the minister had got him out of +Mike Slavin's saloon and out the clutches of Keefe and Slavin and their +gang of bloodsuckers. + +Keefe started up with a curse. Baptiste sprang to Sandy's side, slapped +him on the back, and called out, 'You keel him, I'll hit (eat) him up, +me.' + +It looked as if there might be a fight, when a harsh voice said in a +low, savage tone, 'Stop your row, you blank fools; settle it, if you +want to, somewhere else.' I turned, and was amazed to see old man +Nelson, who was very seldom moved to speech. + +There was a look of scorn on his hard, iron-grey face, and of such +settled fierceness as made me quite believe the tales I had heard of his +deadly fights in the mines at the coast. Before any reply could be +made, the minister drove up and called out in a cheery voice, 'Merry +Christmas, boys! Hello, Sandy! Comment ca va, Baptiste? How do you do, +Mr. Graeme?' + +'First rate. Let me introduce my friend, Mr. Connor, sometime medical +student, now artist, hunter, and tramp at large, but not a bad sort.' + +'A man to be envied,' said the minister, smiling. 'I am glad to know any +friend of Mr. Graeme's.' + +I liked Mr. Craig from the first. He had good eyes that looked straight +out at you, a clean-cut, strong face well set on his shoulders, and +altogether an upstanding, manly bearing. He insisted on going with Sandy +to the stables to see Dandy, his broncho, put up. + +'Decent fellow,' said Graeme; 'but though he is good enough to his +broncho, it is Sandy that's in his mind now.' + +'Does he come out often? I mean, are you part of his parish, so to +speak?' + +'I have no doubt he thinks so; and I'm blowed if he doesn't make the +Presbyterians of us think so too.' And he added after a pause, 'A dandy +lot of parishioners we are for any man. There's Sandy, now, he would +knock Keefe's head off as a kind of religious exercise; but to-morrow +Keefe will be sober, and Sandy will be drunk as a lord, and the drunker +he is the better Presbyterian he'll be; to the preacher's disgust.' Then +after another pause he added bitterly, 'But it is not for me to throw +rocks at Sandy; I am not the same kind of fool, but I am a fool of +several other sorts.' + +Then the cook came out and beat a tattoo on the bottom of a dish-pan. +Baptiste answered with a yell: but though keenly hungry, no man would +demean himself to do other than walk with apparent reluctance to his +place at the table. At the further end of the camp was a big fireplace, +and from the door to the fireplace extended the long board tables, +covered with platters of turkey not too scientifically carved, dishes +of potatoes, bowls of apple sauce, plates of butter, pies, and smaller +dishes distributed at regular intervals. Two lanterns hanging from the +roof, and a row of candles stuck into the wall on either side by means +of slit sticks, cast a dim, weird light over the scene. + +There was a moment's silence, and at a nod from Graeme Mr. Craig rose +and said, 'I don't know how you feel about it, men, but to me this looks +good enough to be thankful for.' + +'Fire ahead, sir,' called out a voice quite respectfully, and the +minister bent his head and said-- 'For Christ the Lord who came to save +us, for all the love and goodness we have known, and for these Thy gifts +to us this Christmas night, our Father, make us thankful. Amen.' + +'Bon, dat's fuss rate,' said Baptiste. 'Seems lak dat's make me hit +(eat) more better for sure,' and then no word was spoken for quarter of +an hour. The occasion was far too solemn and moments too precious for +anything so empty as words. But when the white piles of bread and the +brown piles of turkey had for a second time vanished, and after the +last pie had disappeared, there came a pause and hush of expectancy, +whereupon the cook and cookee, each bearing aloft a huge, blazing +pudding, came forth. + +'Hooray!' yelled Blaney, 'up wid yez!' and grabbing the cook by the +shoulders from behind, he faced him about. + +Mr. Craig was the first to respond, and seizing the cookee in the same +way, called out, 'Squad, fall in! quick march!' In a moment every man +was in the procession. + +'Strike up, Batchees, ye little angel!' shouted Blaney, the appellation +a concession to the minister's presence; and away went Baptiste in a +rollicking French song with the English chorus-- + + 'Then blow, ye winds, in the morning, + Blow, ye winds, ay oh! + Blow, ye winds, in the morning, + Blow, blow, blow.' + +And at each 'blow' every boot came down with a thump on the plank floor +that shook the solid roof. After the second round, Mr. Craig jumped upon +the bench, and called out-- + +'Three cheers for Billy the cook!' + +In the silence following the cheers Baptiste was heard to say, 'Bon! +dat's mak me feel lak hit dat puddin' all hup mesef, me.' + +'Hear till the little baste!' said Blaney in disgust. + +'Batchees,' remonstrated Sandy gravely, 'ye've more stomach than +manners.' + +'Fu sure! but de more stomach dat's more better for dis puddin',' +replied the little Frenchman cheerfully. + +After a time the tables were cleared and pushed back to the wall, and +pipes were produced. In all attitudes suggestive of comfort the men +disposed themselves in a wide circle about the fire, which now roared +and crackled up the great wooden chimney hanging from the roof. The +lumberman's hour of bliss had arrived. Even old man Nelson looked a +shade less melancholy than usual as he sat alone, well away from the +fire, smoking steadily and silently. When the second pipes were well +a-going, one of the men took down a violin from the wall and handed +it to Lachlan Campbell. There were two brothers Campbell just out from +Argyll, typical Highlanders: Lachlan, dark, silent, melancholy, with the +face of a mystic, and Angus, red-haired, quick, impulsive, and devoted +to his brother, a devotion he thought proper to cover under biting, +sarcastic speech. + +Lachlan, after much protestation, interspersed with gibes from his +brother, took the violin, and, in response to the call from all sides, +struck up 'Lord Macdonald's Reel.' In a moment the floor was filled with +dancers, whooping and cracking their fingers in the wildest manner. Then +Baptiste did the 'Red River Jig,' a most intricate and difficult series +of steps, the men keeping time to the music with hands and feet. + +When the jig was finished, Sandy called for 'Lochaber No More'; but +Campbell said, 'No, no! I cannot play that to-night. Mr. Craig will +play.' + +Craig took the violin, and at the first note I knew he was no ordinary +player. I did not recognise the music, but it was soft and thrilling, +and got in by the heart, till every one was thinking his tenderest and +saddest thoughts. + +After he had played two or three exquisite bits, he gave Campbell his +violin, saying, 'Now, "Lochaber," Lachlan.' + +Without a word Lachlan began, not 'Lochaber'--he was not ready for that +yet--but 'The Flowers o' the Forest,' and from that wandered through +'Auld Robin Gray' and 'The Land o' the Leal,' and so got at last to that +most soul-subduing of Scottish laments, 'Lochaber No More.' At the first +strain, his brother, who had thrown himself on some blankets behind the +fire, turned over on his face, feigning sleep. Sandy M'Naughton took +his pipe out of his mouth, and sat up straight and stiff, staring into +vacancy, and Graeme, beyond the fire, drew a short, sharp breath. We +had often sat, Graeme and I, in our student-days, in the drawing-room at +home, listening to his father wailing out 'Lochaber' upon the pipes, and +I well knew that the awful minor strains were now eating their way into +his soul. + +Over and over again the Highlander played his lament. He had long since +forgotten us, and was seeing visions of the hills and lochs and glens of +his far-away native land, and making us, too, see strange things out +of the dim past. I glanced at old man Nelson, and was startled at the +eager, almost piteous, look in his eyes, and I wished Campbell would +stop. Mr. Craig caught my eye, and, stepping over to Campbell, held out +his hand for the violin. Lingeringly and lovingly the Highlander drew +out the last strain, and silently gave the minister his instrument. + +Without a moment's pause, and while the spell of 'Lochaber' was still +upon us, the minister, with exquisite skill, fell into the refrain of +that simple and beautiful camp-meeting hymn, 'The Sweet By and By.' +After playing the verse through once, he sang softly the refrain. After +the first verse, the men joined in the chorus; at first timidly, but +by the time the third verse was reached they were shouting with throats +full open, 'We shall meet on that beautiful shore.' When I looked at +Nelson the eager light had gone out of his eyes, and in its place was +kind of determined hopelessness, as if in this new music he had no part. + +After the voices had ceased, Mr. Craig played again the refrain, more +and more softly and slowly; then laying the violin on Campbell's knees, +he drew from his pocket his little Bible, and said-- + +'Men, with Mr. Graeme's permission, I want to read you something this +Christmas Eve. You will all have heard it before, but you will like it +none the less for that.' + +His voice was soft, but clear and penetrating, as he read the eternal +story of the angels and the shepherds and the Babe. And as he read, a +slight motion of the hand or a glance of an eye made us see, as he +was seeing, that whole radiant drama. The wonder, the timid joy, +the tenderness, the mystery of it all, were borne in upon us with +overpowering effect. He closed the book, and in the same low, clear +voice went on to tell us how, in his home years ago, he used to stand on +Christmas Eve listening in thrilling delight to his mother telling him +the story, and how she used to make him see the shepherds and hear the +sheep bleating near by, and how the sudden burst of glory used to make +his heart jump. + +'I used to be a little afraid of the angels, because a boy told me they +were ghosts; but my mother told me better, and I didn't fear them any +more. And the Baby, the dear little Baby--we all love a baby.' There was +a quick, dry sob; it was from Nelson. 'I used to peek through under +to see the little one in the straw, and wonder what things swaddling +clothes were. Oh, it was all so real and so beautiful!' He paused, and I +could hear the men breathing. + +'But one Christmas Eve,' he went on, in a lower, sweeter tone, 'there +was no one to tell me the story, and I grew to forget it, and went away +to college, and learned to think that it was only a child's tale and was +not for men. Then bad days came to me and worse, and I began to lose my +grip of myself, of life, of hope, of goodness, till one black Christmas, +in the slums of a faraway city, when I had given up all, and the devil's +arms were about me, I heard the story again. And as I listened, with +a bitter ache in my heart, for I had put it all behind me, I suddenly +found myself peeking under the shepherds' arms with a child's wonder at +the Baby in the straw. Then it came over me like great waves, that His +name was Jesus, because it was He that should save men from their sins. +Save! Save! The waves kept beating upon my ears, and before I knew, I +had called out, "Oh! can He save me?" It was in a little mission meeting +on one of the side streets, and they seemed to be used to that sort of +thing there, for no one was surprised; and a young fellow leaned across +the aisle to me and said, "Why! you just bet He can!" His surprise that +I should doubt, his bright face and confident tone, gave me hope +that perhaps it might be so. I held to that hope with all my soul, +and'--stretching up his arms, and with a quick glow in his face and +a little break in his voice, 'He hasn't failed me yet; not once, not +once!' + +He stopped quite short, and I felt a good deal like making a fool of +myself, for in those days I had not made up my mind about these things. +Graeme, poor old chap, was gazing at him with a sad yearning in his dark +eyes; big Sandy was sitting very stiff, and staring harder than ever +into the fire; Baptiste was trembling with excitement; Blaney was openly +wiping the tears away. But the face that held my eyes was that of +old man Nelson. It was white, fierce, hungry-looking, his sunken eyes +burning, his lips parted as if to cry. + +The minister went on. 'I didn't mean to tell you this, men, it all came +over me with a rush; but it is true, every word, and not a word will I +take back. And, what's more, I can tell you this, what He did for me +He can do for any man, and it doesn't make any difference what's behind +him, and'--leaning slightly forward, and with a little thrill of pathos +vibrating in his voice--'O boys, why don't you give Him a chance at you? +Without Him you'll never be the men you want to be, and you'll never get +the better of that that's keeping some of you now from going back home. +You know you'll never go back till you're the men you want to be.' +Then, lifting up his face and throwing back his head, he said, as if to +himself, 'Jesus! He shall save His people from their sins,' and then, +'Let us pray.' + +Graeme leaned forward with his face in his hands; Baptiste and Blaney +dropped on their knees; Sandy, the Campbells, and some others, stood up. +Old man Nelson held his eyes steadily on the minister. + +Only once before had I seen that look on a human face. A young fellow +had broken through the ice on the river at home, and as the black water +was dragging his fingers one by one from the slippery edges, there came +over his face that same look. I used to wake up for many a night after +in a sweat of horror, seeing the white face with its parting lips, and +its piteous, dumb appeal, and the black water slowly sucking it down. + +Nelson's face brought it all back; but during the prayer the face +changed, and seemed to settle into resolve of some sort, stern, almost +gloomy, as of a man with his last chance before him. + +After the prayer Mr. Craig invited the men to a Christmas dinner next +day in Black Rock. 'And because you are an independent lot, we'll charge +you half a dollar for dinner and the evening show.' Then leaving a +bundle of magazines and illustrated papers on the table--a godsend to +the men--he said good-bye and went out. + +I was to go with the minister, so I jumped into the sleigh first, and +waited while he said good-bye to Graeme, who had been hard hit by the +whole service, and seemed to want to say something. I heard Mr. Craig +say cheerfully and confidently, 'It's a true bill: try Him.' + +Sandy, who had been steadying Dandy while that interesting broncho was +attempting with great success to balance himself on his hind legs, came +to say good-bye. 'Come and see me first thing, Sandy.' + +'Ay! I know; I'll see ye, Mr. Craig,' said Sandy earnestly, as Dandy +dashed off at a full gallop across the clearing and over the bridge, +steadying down when he reached the hill. + +'Steady, you idiot!' + +This was to Dandy, who had taken a sudden side spring into the deep +snow, almost upsetting us. A man stepped out from the shadow. It was old +man Nelson. He came straight to the sleigh, and, ignoring my presence +completely, said-- + +'Mr. Craig, are you dead sure of this? Will it work?' + +'Do you mean,' said Craig, taking him up promptly, 'can Jesus Christ +save you from your sins and make a man of you?' + +The old man nodded, keeping his hungry eyes on the other's face. + +'Well, here's His message to you: "The Son of Man is come to seek and to +save that which was lost."' + +'To me? To me?' said the old man eagerly. + +'Listen; this, too, is His Word: "Him that cometh unto Me I will in no +wise cast out." That's for you, for here you are, coming.' + +'You don't know me, Mr. Craig. I left my baby fifteen years ago +because--' + +'Stop!' said the minister. 'Don't tell me, at least not to-night; +perhaps never. Tell Him who knows it all now, and who never betrays a +secret. Have it out with Him. Don't be afraid to trust Him.' + +Nelson looked at him, with his face quivering, and said in a husky +voice, 'If this is no good, it's hell for me.' + +'If it is no good,' replied Craig, almost sternly, 'it's hell for all of +us.' + +The old man straightened himself up, looked up at the stars, then back +at Mr. Craig, then at me, and, drawing a deep breath, said, 'I'll try +Him.' As he was turning away the minister touched him on the arm, and +said quietly, 'Keep an eye on Sandy to-morrow.' + +Nelson nodded, and we went on; but before we took the next turn I looked +back and saw what brought a lump into my throat. It was old man Nelson +on his knees in the snow, with his hands spread upward to the stars, +and I wondered if there was any One above the stars, and nearer than the +stars, who could see. And then the trees hid him from my sight + + +CHAPTER II + +THE BLACK ROCK CHRISTMAS + + +Many strange Christmas Days have I seen, but that wild Black Rock +Christmas stands out strangest of all. While I was revelling in my +delicious second morning sleep, just awake enough to enjoy it, Mr. Craig +came abruptly, announcing breakfast and adding, 'Hope you are in good +shape, for we have our work before us this day.' + +'Hello!' I replied, still half asleep, and anxious to hide from the +minister that I was trying to gain a few more moments of snoozing +delight, 'what's abroad?'. + +'The devil,' he answered shortly, and with such emphasis that I sat bolt +upright, looking anxiously about. + +'Oh! no need for alarm. He's not after you particularly--at least not +to-day,' said Craig, with a shadow of a smile. 'But he is going about in +good style, I can tell you.' + +By this time I was quite awake. 'Well, what particular style does His +Majesty affect this morning?' + +He pulled out a showbill. 'Peculiarly gaudy and effective, is it not?' + +The items announced were sufficiently attractive. The 'Frisco Opera +Company were to produce the 'screaming farce,' 'The Gay and Giddy Dude'; +after which there was to be a 'Grand Ball,' during which the 'Kalifornia +Female Kickers' were to do some fancy figures; the whole to be followed +by a 'big supper' with 'two free drinks to every man and one to the +lady,' and all for the insignificant sum of two dollars. + +'Can't you go one better?' I said. + +He looked inquiringly and a little disgustedly at me. + +'What can you do against free drinks and a dance, not to speak of the +"High Kickers"?' he groaned. + +'No!' he continued; 'it's a clean beat for us today. The miners and +lumbermen will have in their pockets ten thousand dollars, and every +dollar burning a hole; and Slavin and his gang will get most of it. +But,' he added, 'you must have breakfast. You'll find a tub in the +kitchen; don't be afraid to splash. It is the best I have to offer you.' + +The tub sounded inviting, and before many minutes had passed I was in +a delightful glow, the effect of cold water and a rough towel, and that +consciousness of virtue that comes to a man who has had courage to face +his cold bath on a winter morning. + +The breakfast was laid with fine taste. A diminutive pine-tree, in a pot +hung round with wintergreen, stood in the centre of the table. + +'Well, now, this looks good; porridge, beefsteak, potatoes, toast, and +marmalade.' + +'I hope you will enjoy it all.' + +There was not much talk over our meal. Mr. Craig was evidently +preoccupied, and as blue as his politeness would allow him. Slavin's +victory weighed upon his spirits. Finally he burst out, 'Look here! I +can't, I won't stand it; something must be done. Last Christmas this +town was for two weeks, as one of the miners said, "a little suburb of +hell." It was something too awful. And at the end of it all one young +fellow was found dead in his shack, and twenty or more crawled back to +the camps, leaving their three months' pay with Slavin and his suckers. + +'I won't stand it, I say.' He turned fiercely on me. 'What's to be +done?' + +This rather took me aback, for I had troubled myself with nothing of +this sort in my life before, being fully occupied in keeping myself out +of difficulty, and allowing others the same privilege. So I ventured +the consolation that he had done his part, and that a spree more or +less would not make much difference to these men. But the next moment +I wished I had been slower in speech, for he swiftly faced me, and his +words came like a torrent. + +'God forgive you that heartless word! Do you know--? But no; you don't +know what you are saying. You don't know that these men have been +clambering for dear life out of a fearful pit for three months past, and +doing good climbing too, poor chaps. You don't think that some of them +have wives, most of them mothers and sisters, in the east or across the +sea, for whose sake they are slaving here; the miners hoping to save +enough to bring their families to this homeless place, the rest to make +enough to go back with credit. Why, there's Nixon, miner, splendid chap; +has been here for two years, and drawing the highest pay. Twice he has +been in sight of his heaven, for he can't speak of his wife and babies +without breaking up, and twice that slick son of the devil--that's +Scripture, mind you--Slavin, got him, and "rolled" him, as the boys say. +He went back to the mines broken in body and in heart. He says this is +his third and last chance. If Slavin gets him, his wife and babies will +never see him on earth or in heaven. There is Sandy, too, and the rest. +And,' he added, in a lower tone, and with the curious little thrill of +pathos in his voice, 'this is the day the Saviour came to the world.' +He paused, and then with a little sad smile, 'But I don't want to abuse +you.' + +'Do, I enjoy it, I'm a beast, a selfish beast'; for somehow his intense, +blazing earnestness made me feel uncomfortably small. + +'What have we to offer?' I demanded. + +'Wait till I have got these things cleared away, and my housekeeping +done.' + +I pressed my services upon him, somewhat feebly, I own, for I can't bear +dishwater; but he rejected my offer. + +'I don't like trusting my china to the hands of a tender-foot.' + +'Quite right, though your china would prove an excellent means of +defence at long range.' It was delf, a quarter of an inch thick. So I +smoked while he washed up, swept, dusted, and arranged the room. + +After the room was ordered to his taste, we proceeded to hold council. +He could offer dinner, magic lantern, music. 'We can fill in time for +two hours, but,' he added gloomily, 'we can't beat the dance and the +"High Kickers."' + +'Have you nothing new or startling?' + +He shook his head. + +'No kind of show? Dog show? Snake charmer?' + +'Slavin has a monopoly of the snakes.' + +Then he added hesitatingly, 'There was an old Punch-and-Judy chap here +last year, but he died. Whisky again.' + +'What happened to his show?' + +'The Black Rock Hotel man took it for board and whisky bill. He has it +still, I suppose.' + +I did not much relish the business; but I hated to see him beaten, so +I ventured, 'I have run a Punch and Judy in an amateur way at the +'Varsity.' + +He sprang to his feet with a yell. + +'You have! you mean to say it? We've got them! We've beaten them!' He +had an extraordinary way of taking your help for granted. 'The miner +chaps, mostly English and Welsh, went mad over the poor old showman, and +made him so wealthy that in sheer gratitude he drank himself to death.' + +He walked up and down in high excitement and in such evident delight +that I felt pledged to my best effort. + +'Well,' I said, 'first the poster. We must beat them in that.' + +He brought me large sheets of brown paper, and after two hours' hard +work I had half a dozen pictorial showbills done in gorgeous colours and +striking designs. They were good, if I do say it myself. + +The turkey, the magic lantern, the Punch and Judy show were all there, +the last with a crowd before it in gaping delight. A few explanatory +words were thrown in, emphasising the highly artistic nature of the +Punch and Judy entertainment. + +Craig was delighted, and proceeded to perfect his plans. He had some +half a dozen young men, four young ladies, and eight or ten matrons, +upon whom he could depend for help. These he organised into a vigilance +committee charged with the duty of preventing miners and lumbermen from +getting away to Slavin's. 'The critical moments will be immediately +before and after dinner, and then again after the show is over,' he +explained. 'The first two crises must be left to the care of Punch and +Judy, and as for the last, I am not yet sure what shall be done'; but +I saw he had something in his head, for he added, 'I shall see Mrs. +Mavor.' + +'Who is Mrs. Mavor?' I asked. But he made no reply. He was a born +fighter, and he put the fighting spirit into us all. We were bound to +win. + +The sports were to begin at two o'clock. By lunch-time everything was in +readiness. After lunch I was having a quiet smoke in Craig's shack when +in he rushed, saying-- + +'The battle will be lost before it is fought. If we lose Quatre Bras, we +shall never get to Waterloo.' + +'What's up?' + +'Slavin, just now. The miners are coming in, and he will have them in +tow in half an hour.' + +He looked at me appealingly. I knew what he wanted. + +'All right; I suppose I must, but it is an awful bore that a man can't +have a quiet smoke.' + +'You're not half a bad fellow,' he replied, smiling. 'I shall get the +ladies to furnish coffee inside the booth. You furnish them intellectual +nourishment in front with dear old Punch and Judy.' + +He sent a boy with a bell round the village announcing, 'Punch, and +Judy in front of the Christmas booth beside the church'; and for +three-quarters of an hour I shrieked and sweated in that awful little +pen. But it was almost worth it to hear the shouts of approval and +laughter that greeted my performance. It was cold work standing about, +so that the crowd was quite ready to respond when Punch, after being +duly hanged, came forward and invited all into the booth for the hot +coffee which Judy had ordered. + +In they trooped, and Quatre Bras was won. + +No sooner were the miners safely engaged with their coffee than I heard +a great noise of bells and of men shouting; and on reaching the street +I saw that the men from the lumber camp were coming in. Two immense +sleighs, decorated with ribbons and spruce boughs, each drawn by a +four-horse team gaily adorned, filled with some fifty men, singing and +shouting with all their might, were coming down the hill road at full +gallop. Round the corner they swung, dashed at full speed across the +bridge and down the street, and pulled up after they had made the +circuit of a block, to the great admiration of the onlookers. Among +others Slavin sauntered up good-naturedly, making himself agreeable to +Sandy and those who were helping to unhitch his team. + +'Oh, you need not take trouble with me or my team, Mike Slavin. Batchees +and me and the boys can look after them fine,' said Sandy coolly. + +This rejecting of hospitality was perfectly understood by Slavin and by +all. + +'Dat's too bad, heh?' said Baptiste wickedly; 'and, Sandy, he's got +good money on his pocket for sure, too.' The boys laughed, and Slavin, +joining in, turned away with Keele and Blaney; but by the look in his +eye I knew he was playing 'Br'er Rabbit,' and lying low. + +Mr. Craig just then came up, 'Hello, boys! too late for Punch and Judy, +but just in time for hot coffee and doughnuts.' + +'Bon; dat's fuss rate,' said Baptiste heartily; 'where you keep him?' + +'Up in the tent next the church there. The miners are all in.' + +'Ah, dat so? Dat's bad news for the shantymen, heh, Sandy?' said the +little Frenchman dolefully. + +'There was a clothes-basket full of doughnuts and a boiler of coffee +left as I passed just now,' said Craig encouragingly. + +'Allons, mes garcons; vite! never say keel!' cried Baptiste excitedly, +stripping off the harness. + +But Sandy would not leave the horses till they were carefully rubbed +down, blanketed, and fed, for he was entered for the four-horse race +and it behoved him to do his best to win. Besides, he scorned to hurry +himself for anything so unimportant as eating; that he considered hardly +worthy even of Baptiste. Mr. Craig managed to get a word with him before +he went off, and I saw Sandy solemnly and emphatically shake his head, +saying, 'Ah! we'll beat him this day,' and I gathered that he was added +to the vigilance committee. + +Old man Nelson was busy with his own team. He turned slowly at Mr. +Craig's greeting, 'How is it, Nelson?' and it was with a very grave +voice he answered, 'I hardly know, sir; but I am not gone yet, though it +seems little to hold to.' + +'All you want for a grip is what your hand can cover. What would you +have? And besides, do you know why you are not gone yet?' + +The old man waited, looking at the minister gravely. + +'Because He hasn't let go His grip of you.' + +'How do you know He's gripped me?' + +'Now, look here, Nelson, do you want to quit this thing and give it all +up?' + +'No, no! For heaven's sake, no! Why, do you think I have lost it?' said +Nelson, almost piteously. + +'Well, He's keener about it than you; and I'll bet you haven't thought +it worth while to thank Him.' + +'To thank Him,' he repeated, almost stupidly, 'for--' + +'For keeping you where you are overnight,' said Mr. Craig, almost +sternly. + +The old man gazed at the minister, a light growing in his eyes. + +'You're right. Thank God, you're right.' And then he turned quickly +away, and went into the stable behind his team. It was a minute before +he came out. Over his face there was a trembling joy. + +'Can I do anything for you to-day?' he asked humbly. + +'Indeed you just can,' said the minister, taking his hand and shaking it +very warmly; and then he told him Slavin's programme and ours. + +'Sandy is all right till after his race. After that is his time of +danger,' said the minister. + +'I'll stay with him, sir,' said old Nelson, in the tone of a man taking +a covenant, and immediately set off for the coffee-tent. + +'Here comes another recruit for your corps,' I said, pointing to Leslie +Graeme, who was coming down the street at that moment in his light +sleigh. + +'I am not so sure. Do you think you could get him?' + +I laughed. 'You are a good one.' + +'Well,' he replied, half defiantly, 'is not this your fight too?' + +'You make me think so, though I am bound to say I hardly recognise +myself to day. But here goes,' and before I knew it I was describing +our plans to Graeme, growing more and more enthusiastic as he sat in his +sleigh, listening with a quizzical smile I didn't quite like. + +'He's got you too,' he said; 'I feared so.' + +'Well,' I laughed, 'perhaps so. But I want to lick that man Slavin. I've +just seen him, and he's just what Craig calls him, "a slick son of the +devil." Don't be shocked; he says it is Scripture.' + +'Revised version,' said Graeme gravely, while Craig looked a little +abashed. + +'What is assigned me, Mr. Craig? for I know that this man is simply your +agent.' + +I repudiated the idea, while Mr. Craig said nothing. + +'What's my part?' demanded Graeme. + +'Well,' said Mr. Craig hesitatingly, 'of course I would do nothing till +I had consulted you; but I want a man to take my place at the sports. I +am referee.' + +'That's all right,' said Graeme, with an air of relief; 'I expected +something hard.' + +'And then I thought you would not mind presiding at dinner--I want it to +go off well.' + +'Did you notice that?' said Graeme to me. 'Not a bad touch, eh?' + +'That's nothing to the way he touched me. Wait and learn,' I answered, +while Craig looked quite distressed. 'He'll do it, Mr. Craig, never +fear,' I said, 'and any other little duty that may occur to you.' + +'Now that's too bad of you. That is all I want, honour bright,' he +replied; adding, as he turned away, 'you are just in time for a cup of +coffee, Mr. Graeme. Now I must see Mrs. Mavor.' + +'Who is Mrs. Mavor?' I demanded of Graeme. + +'Mrs. Mavor? The miners' guardian angel.' + +We put up the horses and set off for coffee. As we approached the +booth Graeme caught sight of the Punch and Judy show, stood still in +amazement, and exclaimed, 'Can the dead live?' + +'Punch and Judy never die,' I replied solemnly. + +'But the old manipulator is dead enough, poor old beggar!' + +'But he left his mantle, as you see.' + +He looked at me a moment + +'What! do you mean, you--?' + +'Yes, that is exactly what I do mean.' + +'He is great man, that Craig fellow--a truly great man.' + +And then he leaned up against a tree and laughed till the tears came. +'I say, old boy, don't mind me,' he gasped, 'but do you remember the old +'Varsity show?' + +'Yes, you villain; and I remember your part in it. I wonder how you can, +even at this remote date, laugh at it.' For I had a vivid recollection +of how, after a 'chaste and highly artistic performance of this +mediaeval play' had been given before a distinguished Toronto audience, +the trap door by which I had entered my box was fastened, and I was left +to swelter in my cage, and forced to listen to the suffocated laughter +from the wings and the stage whispers of 'Hello, Mr. Punch, where's the +baby?' And for many a day after I was subjected to anxious inquiries as +to the locality and health of 'the baby,' and whether it was able to be +out. + +'Oh, the dear old days!' he kept saying, over and over, in a tone so +full of sadness that my heart grew sore for him and I forgave him, as +many a time before. + +The sports passed off in typical Western style. In addition to the usual +running and leaping contests, there was rifle and pistol shooting, in +both of which old man Nelson stood first, with Shaw, foreman of the +mines, second. + +The great event of the day, however, was to be the four-horse race, +for which three teams were entered--one from the mines driven by Nixon, +Craig's friend, a citizens' team, and Sandy's. The race was really +between the miners' team, and that from the woods, for the citizens' +team, though made up of speedy horses, had not been driven much +together, and knew neither their driver nor each other. In the miners' +team were four bays, very powerful, a trifle heavy perhaps, but well +matched, perfectly trained, and perfectly handled by their driver. Sandy +had his long rangy roans, and for leaders a pair of half-broken +pinto bronchos. The pintos, caught the summer before upon the Alberta +prairies, were fleet as deer, but wicked and uncertain. They were +Baptiste's special care and pride. If they would only run straight +there was little doubt that they would carry the roans and themselves to +glory; but one could not tell the moment they might bolt or kick things +to pieces. + +Being the only non-partisan in the crowd I was asked to referee. The +race was about half a mile and return, the first and last quarters being +upon the ice. The course, after leaving the ice, led up from the river +by a long easy slope to the level above; and at the further end curved +somewhat sharply round the Old Fort. The only condition attaching to the +race was that the teams should start from the scratch, make the turn of +the Fort, and finish at the scratch. There were no vexing regulations as +to fouls. The man making the foul would find it necessary to reckon +with the crowd, which was considered sufficient guarantee for a fair and +square race. Owing to the hazards of the course, the result would depend +upon the skill of the drivers quite as much as upon the speed of the +teams. The points of hazard were at the turn round the Old Fort, and at +a little ravine which led down to the river, over which the road passed +by means of a long log bridge or causeway. + +From a point upon the high bank of the river the whole course lay in +open view. It was a scene full of life and vividly picturesque. There +were miners in dark clothes and peak caps; citizens in ordinary garb; +ranchmen in wide cowboy hats and buckskin shirts and leggings, some +with cartridge-belts and pistols; a few half-breeds and Indians in +half-native, half-civilised dress; and scattering through the crowd the +lumbermen with gay scarlet and blue blanket coats, and some with knitted +tuques of the same colours. A very good-natured but extremely uncertain +crowd it was. At the head of each horse stood a man, but at the pintos' +heads Baptiste stood alone, trying to hold down the off leader, thrown +into a frenzy of fear by the yelling of the crowd. + +Gradually all became quiet, till, in the midst of absolute stillness, +came the words, 'Are you ready?', then the pistol-shot and the great +race had begun. Above the roar of the crowd came the shrill cry of +Baptiste, as he struck his broncho with the palm of his hand, and swung +himself into the sleigh beside Sandy, as it shot past. + +Like a flash the bronchos sprang to the front, two lengths before the +other teams; but, terrified by the yelling of the crowd, instead of +bending to the left bank up which the road wound, they wheeled to the +right and were almost across the river before Sandy could swing them +back into the course. + +Baptiste's cries, a curious mixture of French and English, continued to +strike through all other sounds till they gained the top of the slope +to find the others almost a hundred yards in front, the citizens' team +leading, with the miners' following close. The moment the pintos caught +sight of the teams before them they set off at a terrific pace and +steadily devoured the intervening space. Nearer and nearer the turn +came, the eight horses in front, running straight and well within their +speed. After them flew the pintos, running savagely with ears set back, +leading well the big roans, thundering along and gaining at every bound. +And now the citizens' team had almost reached the Fort, running hard, +and drawing away from the bays. But Nixon knew what he was about, and +was simply steadying his team for the turn. The event proved his wisdom, +for in the turn the leading team left the track, lost a moment or two in +the deep snow, and before they could regain the road the bays had swept +superbly past, leaving their rivals to follow in the rear. On came the +pintos, swiftly nearing the Fort. Surely at that pace they cannot make +the turn. But Sandy knows his leaders. They have their eyes upon the +teams in front, and need no touch of rein. Without the slightest change +in speed the nimble-footed bronchos round the turn, hauling the big +roans after them, and fall in behind the citizens' team, which is +regaining steadily the ground lost in the turn. + +And now the struggle is for the bridge over the ravine. The bays in +front, running with mouths wide open, are evidently doing their best; +behind them, and every moment nearing them, but at the limit of their +speed too, come the lighter and fleeter citizens' team; while opposite +their driver are the pintos, pulling hard, eager and fresh. Their temper +is too uncertain to send them to the front; they run well following, but +when leading cannot be trusted, and besides, a broncho hates a bridge; +so Sandy holds them where they are, waiting and hoping for his chance +after the bridge is crossed. Foot by foot the citizens' team creep +up upon the flank of the bays, with the pintos in turn hugging them +closely, till it seems as if the three, if none slackens, must strike +the bridge together; and this will mean destruction to one at least. +This danger Sandy perceives, but he dare not check his leaders. +Suddenly, within a few yards of the bridge, Baptiste throws himself upon +the lines, wrenches them out of Sandy's hands, and, with a quick swing, +faces the pintos down the steep side of the ravine, which is almost +sheer ice with a thin coat of snow. It is a daring course to take, for +the ravine, though not deep, is full of undergrowth, and is partially +closed up by a brush heap at the further end. But, with a yell, Baptiste +hurls his four horses down the slope, and into the undergrowth. 'Allons, +mes enfants! Courage! vite, vite!' cries their driver, and nobly do the +pintos respond. Regardless of bushes and brush heaps, they tear their +way through; but, as they emerge, the hind bob-sleigh catches a root, +and, with a crash, the sleigh is hurled high in the air. Baptiste's +cries ring out high and shrill as ever, encouraging his team, and never +cease till, with a plunge and a scramble, they clear the brush heap +lying at the mouth of the ravine, and are out on the ice on the river, +with Baptiste standing on the front bob, the box trailing behind, and +Sandy nowhere to be seen. + +Three hundred yards of the course remain. The bays, perfectly handled, +have gained at the bridge and in the descent to the ice, and are leading +the citizens' team by half a dozen sleigh lengths. Behind both comes +Baptiste. It is now or never for the pintos. The rattle of the trailing +box, together with the wild yelling of the crowd rushing down the bank, +excites the bronchos to madness, and, taking the bits in their teeth, +they do their first free running that day. Past the citizens' team like +a whirlwind they dash, clear the intervening space, and gain the flanks +of the bays. Can the bays hold them? Over them leans their driver, +plying for the first time the hissing lash. Only fifty yards more. The +miners begin to yell. But Baptiste, waving his lines high in one hand +seizes his tuque with the other, whirls it about his head and flings it +with a fiercer yell than ever at the bronchos. Like the bursting of a +hurricane the pintos leap forward, and with a splendid rush cross the +scratch, winners by their own length. + +There was a wild quarter of an hour. The shantymen had torn off their +coats and were waving them wildly and tossing them high, while the +ranchers added to the uproar by emptying their revolvers into the air in +a way that made one nervous. + +When the crowd was somewhat quieted Sandy's stiff figure appeared, +slowly making towards them. A dozen lumbermen ran to him, eagerly +inquiring if he were hurt. But Sandy could only curse the little +Frenchman for losing the race. + +'Lost! Why, man, we've won it!' shouted a voice, at which Sandy's rage +vanished, and he allowed himself to be carried in upon the shoulders of +his admirers. + +'Where's the lad?' was his first question. + +The bronchos are off with him. He's down at the rapids like enough.' + +'Let me go,' shouted Sandy, setting off at a run in the track of the +sleigh. He had not gone far before he met Baptiste coming back with his +team foaming, the roans going quietly, but the bronchos dancing, and +eager to be at it again. + +'Voila! bully boy! tank the bon Dieu, Sandy; you not keel, heh? Ah! +you are one grand chevalier,' exclaimed Baptiste, hauling Sandy in and +thrusting the lines into his hands. And so they came back, the sleigh +box still dragging behind, the pintos executing fantastic figures on +their hind legs, and Sandy holding them down. The little Frenchman +struck a dramatic attitude and called out-- + +'Voila! What's the matter wiz Sandy, heh?' + +The roar that answered set the bronchos off again plunging and kicking, +and only when Baptiste got them by the heads could they be induced to +stand long enough to allow Sandy to be proclaimed winner of the race. +Several of the lumbermen sprang into the sleigh box with Sandy and +Baptiste, among them Keefe, followed by Nelson, and the first part of +the great day was over. Slavin could not understand the new order +of things. That a great event like the four-horse race should not +be followed by 'drinks all round' was to him at once disgusting and +incomprehensible; and, realising his defeat for the moment, he fell into +the crowd and disappeared. But he left behind him his 'runners.' He had +not yet thrown up the game. + +Mr. Craig meantime came to me, and, looking anxiously after Sandy in +his sleigh, with his frantic crowd of yelling admirers, said in a gloomy +voice, 'Poor Sandy! He is easily caught, and Keefe has the devil's +cunning.' + +'He won't touch Slavin's whisky to-day,' I answered confidently. + +'There'll be twenty bottles waiting him in the stable,' he replied +bitterly, 'and I can't go following him up.' + +'He won't stand that, no man would. God help us all.' I could hardly +recognise myself, for I found in my heart an earnest echo to that prayer +as I watched him go toward the crowd again, his face set in strong +determination. He looked like the captain of a forlorn hope, and I was +proud to be following him. + + +CHAPTER III + +WATERLOO. OUR FIGHT--HIS VICTORY + + +The sports were over, and there remained still an hour to be filled +in before dinner. It was an hour full of danger to Craig's hopes of +victory, for the men were wild with excitement, and ready for the most +reckless means of 'slinging their dust.' I could not but admire the +skill with which Mr. Craig caught their attention. + +'Gentlemen,' he called out, 'we've forgotten the judge of the great +race. Three cheers for Mr. Connor!' + +Two of the shantymen picked me up and hoisted me on their shoulders +while the cheers were given. + +'Announce the Punch and Judy,' he entreated me, in a low voice. I did so +in a little speech, and was forthwith borne aloft, through the street to +the booth, followed by the whole crowd, cheering like mad. + +The excitement of the crowd caught me, and for an hour I squeaked and +worked the wires of the immortal and unhappy family in a manner hitherto +unapproached by me at least. I was glad enough when Graeme came to tell +me to send the men in to dinner. This Mr. Punch did in the most +gracious manner, and again with cheers for Punch's master they trooped +tumultuously into the tent. + +We had only well begun when Baptiste came in quietly but hurriedly and +whispered to me-- + +'M'sieu Craig, he's gone to Slavin's, and would lak you and M'sieu +Graeme would follow queek. Sandy he's take one leel drink up at de +stable, and he's go mad lak one diable.' + +I sent him for Graeme, who was presiding at dinner, and set off for +Slavin's at a run. There I found Mr. Craig and Nelson holding Sandy, +more than half drunk, back from Slavin, who, stripped to the shirt, was +coolly waiting with a taunting smile. + +'Let me go, Mr. Craig,' Sandy was saying, 'I am a good Presbyterian. He +is a Papist thief; and he has my money; and I will have it out of the +soul of him.' + +'Let him go, preacher,' sneered Slavin, 'I'll cool him off for yez. But +ye'd better hold him if yez wants his mug left on to him.' + +'Let him go!' Keefe was shouting. + +'Hands off!' Blaney was echoing. + +I pushed my way in. 'What's up?' I cried. + +'Mr. Connor,' said Sandy solemnly, 'it is a gentleman you are, though +your name is against you, and I am a good Presbyterian, and I can give +you the Commandments and Reasons annexed to them; but yon's a thief, a +Papist thief, and I am justified in getting my money out of his soul.' + +'But,' I remonstrated, 'you won't get it in this way.' + +'He has my money,' reiterated Sandy. + +'He is a blank liar, and he's afraid to take it up,' said Slavin, in a +low, cool tone. + +With a roar Sandy broke away and rushed at him; but, without moving +from his tracks, Slavin met him with a straight left-hander and laid him +flat. + +'Hooray,' yelled Blaney, 'Ireland for ever!' and, seizing the iron +poker, swung it around his head, crying, 'Back, or, by the holy Moses, +I'll kill the first man that interferes wid the game.' + +'Give it to him!' Keefe said savagely. + +Sandy rose slowly, gazing round stupidly. + +'He don't know what hit him,' laughed Keefe. + +This roused the Highlander, and saying, 'I'll settle you afterwards, +Mister Keefe,' he rushed in again at Slavin. Again Slavin met him again +with his left, staggered him, and, before he fell, took a step forward +and delivered a terrific right-hand blow on his jaw. Poor Sandy went +down in a heap amid the yells of Blaney, Keefe, and some others of the +gang. I was in despair when in came Baptiste and Graeme. + +One look at Sandy, and Baptiste tore off his coat and cap, slammed them +on the floor, danced on them, and with a long-drawn 'sap-r-r-r-rie,' +rushed at Slavin. But Graeme caught him by the back of the neck, saying, +'Hold on, little man,' and turning to Slavin, pointed to Sandy, who was +reviving under Nelson's care, and said, 'What's this for?' + +'Ask him,' said Slavin insolently. 'He knows.' + +'What is it, Nelson?' + +Nelson explained that Sandy, after drinking some at the stable and a +glass at the Black Rock Hotel, had come down here with Keefe and the +others, had lost his money, and was accusing Slavin of robbing him. + +'Did you furnish him with liquor?' said Graeme sternly. + +'It is none of your business,' replied Slavin, with an oath. + +'I shall make it my business. It is not the first time my men have lost +money in this saloon.' + +'You lie,' said Slavin, with deliberate emphasis. + +'Slavin,' said Graeme quietly, 'it's a pity you said that, because, +unless you apologise in one minute, I shall make you sorry.' + +'Apologise?' roared Slavin, 'apologise to you?' calling him a vile name. + +Graeme grew white, and said even more slowly, 'Now you'll have to take +it; no apology will do.' + +He slowly stripped off coat and vest. Mr. Craig interposed, begging +Graeme to let the matter pass. 'Surely he is not worth it.' + +'Mr. Craig,' said Graeme, with an easy smile, 'you don't understand. No +man can call me that name and walk around afterwards feeling well.' + +Then, turning to Slavin, he said, 'Now, if you want a minute's rest, I +can wait.' + +Slavin, with a curse, bade him come. + +'Blaney,' said Graeme sharply, 'you get back.' Blaney promptly stepped +back to Keefe's side. 'Nelson, you and Baptiste can see that they stay +there.' The old man nodded and looked at Craig, who simply said, 'Do the +best you can.' + +It was a good fight. Slavin had plenty of pluck, and for a time forced +the fighting, Graeme guarding easily and tapping him aggravatingly about +the nose and eyes, drawing blood, but not disabling him. Gradually there +came a look of fear into Slavin's eyes, and the beads stood upon his +face. He had met his master. + +'Now, Slavin, you're beginning to be sorry; and now I am going to show +you what you are made of.' Graeme made one or two lightning passes, +struck Slavin one, two, three terrific blows, and laid him quite flat +and senseless. Keefe and Blaney both sprang forward, but there was a +savage kind of growl. + +'Hold, there!' It was old man Nelson looking along a pistol barrel. 'You +know me, Keefe,' he said. 'You won't do any murder this time.' + +Keefe turned green and yellow, and staggered back, while Slavin slowly +rose to his feet. + +'Will you take some more?' said Graeme. 'You haven't got much; but mind +I have stopped playing with you. Put up your gun, Nelson. No one will +interfere now.' + +Slavin hesitated, then rushed, but Graeme stepped to meet him, and +we saw Slavin's heels in the air as he fell back upon his neck and +shoulders and lay still, with his toes quivering. + +'Bon!' yelled Baptiste. 'Bully boy! Dat's de bon stuff. Dat's larn him +one good lesson.' But immediately he shrieked, Gar-r-r-r-e a vous!' + +He was too late, for there was a crash of breaking glass, and Graeme +fell to the floor with a long deep cut on the side of his head. Keefe +had hurled a bottle with all too sure an aim, and had fled. I thought +he was dead; but we carried him out, and in a few minutes he groaned, +opened his eyes, and sank again into insensibility. + +'Where can we take him?' I cried. + +'To my shack,' said Mr. Craig. + +'Is there no place nearer?' + +'Yes; Mrs. Mavor's. I shall run on to tell her.' + +She met us at the door. I had in mind to say some words of apology, but +when I looked upon her face I forgot my words, forgot my business at her +door, and stood simply looking. + +'Come in! Bring him in! Please do not wait,' she said, and her voice was +sweet and soft and firm. + +We laid him in a large room at the back of the shop over which Mrs. +Mavor lived. Together we dressed the wound, her firm white fingers, +skilful as if with long training. Before the dressing was finished +I sent Craig off, for the time had come for the Magic Lantern in the +church, and I knew how critical the moment was in our fight. 'Go,' I +said; 'he is coming to, and we do not need you.' + +In a few moments more Graeme revived, and, gazing about, asked, 'What's, +all this about?' and then, recollecting, 'Ah! that brute Keefe'; then +seeing my anxious face he said carelessly, 'Awful bore, ain't it? Sorry +to trouble you, old fellow.' + +'You be hanged!' I said shortly; for his old sweet smile was playing +about his lips, and was almost too much for me. 'Mrs. Mavor and I are in +command, and you must keep perfectly still.' + +'Mrs. Mavor?' he said, in surprise. She came forward, with a slight +flush on her face. + +'I think you know me, Mr. Graeme.' + +'I have often seen you, and wished to know you. I am sorry to bring you +this trouble.' + +'You must not say so,' she replied, 'but let me do all for you that I +can. And now the doctor says you are to lie still.' + +'The doctor? Oh! you mean Connor. He is hardly there yet. You don't know +each other. Permit me to present Mr. Connor, Mrs. Mavor.' + +As she bowed slightly, her eyes looked into mine with serious gaze, not +inquiring, yet searching my soul. As I looked into her eyes I forgot +everything about me, and when I recalled myself it seemed as if I +had been away in some far place. It was not their colour or their +brightness; I do not yet know their colour, and I have often looked into +them; and they were not bright; but they were clear, and one could look +far down into them, and in their depths see a glowing, steady light. +As I went to get some drugs from the Black Rock doctor, I found myself +wondering about that far-down light; and about her voice, how it could +get that sound from far away. + +I found the doctor quite drunk, as indeed Mr. Craig had warned; but his +drugs were good, and I got what I wanted and quickly returned. + +While Graeme slept Mrs. Mavor made me tea. As the evening wore on I told +her the events of the day, dwelling admiringly upon Craig's generalship. +She smiled at this. + +'He got me too,' she said. 'Nixon was sent to me just before the sports; +and I don't think he will break down to-day, and I am so thankful.' And +her eyes glowed. + +'I am quite sure he won't,' I thought to myself, but I said no word. + +After a long pause, she went on, 'I have promised Mr. Craig to sing +to-night, if I am needed!' and then, after a moment's hesitation, 'It +is two years since I have been able to sing--two years,' she repeated, +'since'--and then her brave voice trembled--'my husband was killed.' + +'I quite understand,' I said, having no other word on my tongue + +'And,' she went on quietly, 'I fear I have been selfish. It is hard to +sing the same songs. We were very happy. But the miners like to hear me +sing, and I think perhaps it helps them to feel less lonely, and keeps +them from evil. I shall try to-night, if I am needed. Mr. Craig will not +ask me unless he must.' + +I would have seen every miner and lumberman in the place hideously drunk +before I would have asked her to sing one song while her heart ached. I +wondered at Craig, and said, rather angrily-- + +'He thinks only of those wretched miners and shantymen of his.' + +She looked at me with wonder in her eyes, and said gently, 'And are they +not Christ's too?' + +And I found no word to reply. + +It was nearing ten o'clock, and I was wondering how the fight was going, +and hoping that Mrs. Mavor would not be needed, when the door opened, +and old man Nelson and Sandy, the latter much battered and ashamed, came +in with the word for Mrs. Mavor. + +'I will come,' she said simply. She saw me preparing to accompany her, +and asked, 'Do you think you can leave him?' + +'He will do quite well in Nelson's care.' + +'Then I am glad; for I must take my little one with me. I did not put +her to bed in case I should need to go, and I may not leave her.' + +We entered the church by the back door, and saw at once that even yet +the battle might easily be lost. + +Some miners had just come from Slavin's, evidently bent on breaking up +the meeting, in revenge for the collapse of the dance, which Slavin +was unable to enjoy, much less direct. Craig was gallantly holding his +ground, finding it hard work to keep his men in good humour, and so +prevent a fight, for there were cries of 'Put him out! Put the beast +out!' at a miner half drunk and wholly outrageous. + +The look of relief that came over his face when Craig caught sight of us +told how anxious he had been, and reconciled me to Mrs. Mavor's singing. +'Thank the good God,' he said, with what came near being a sob, 'I was +about to despair.' + +He immediately walked to the front and called out-- + +'Gentlemen, if you wish it, Mrs. Mavor will sing.' + +There was a dead silence. Some one began to applaud, but a miner said +savagely, 'Stop that, you fool!' + +There was a few moments' delay, when from the crowd a voice called out, +'Does Mrs. Mavor wish to sing?' followed by cries of 'Ay, that's it.' +Then Shaw, the foreman at the mines, stood up in the audience and said-- + +'Mr. Craig and gentlemen, you know that three years ago I was known as +"Old Ricketts," and that I owe all I am to-night, under God, to Mrs. +Mavor, and'--with a little quiver in his voice--'her baby. And we all +know that for two years she has not sung; and we all know why. And what +I say is, that if she does not feel like singing to-night, she is not +going to sing to keep any drunken brute of Slavin's crowd quiet.' + +There were deep growls of approval all over the church. I could have +hugged Shaw then and there. Mr. Craig went to Mrs. Mavor, and after a +word with her came back and said-- + +'Mrs. Mavor, wishes me to thank her dear friend Mr. Shaw, but says she +would like to sing.' + +The response was perfect stillness. Mr. Craig sat down to the organ +and played the opening bars of the touching melody, 'Oft in the Stilly +Night.' Mrs. Mavor came to the front, and, with a smile of exquisite +sweetness upon her sad face, and looking straight at us with her +glorious eyes, began to sing. + +Her voice, a rich soprano, even and true, rose and fell, now soft, now +strong, but always filling the building, pouring around us floods of +music. I had heard Patti's 'Home, sweet Home,' and of all singing that +alone affected me as did this. + +At the end of the first verse the few women in the church and some men +were weeping quietly; but when she began the words-- + + 'When I remember all + The friends once linked together,' + +sobs came on every side from these tender-hearted fellows, and Shaw +quite lost his grip. But she sang steadily on, the tone clearer and +sweeter and fuller at every note, and when the sound of her voice died +away, she stood looking at the men as if in wonder that they should +weep. No one moved. Mr. Craig played softly on, and, wandering through +many variations, arrived at last at + + 'Jesus, lover of my soul.' + +As she sang the appealing words, her face was lifted up, and she saw +none of us; but she must have seen some one, for the cry in her voice +could only come from one who could see and feel help close at hand. On +and on went the glorious voice, searching my soul's depths; but when she +came to the words-- + + 'Thou, O Christ, art all I want,' + +she stretched up her arms--she had quite forgotten us, her voice had +borne her to other worlds--and sang with such a passion of 'abandon' +that my soul was ready to surrender anything, everything. + +Again Mr. Craig wandered on through his changing chords till again he +came to familiar ground, and the voice began, in low, thrilling tones, +Bernard's great song of home-- + + 'Jerusalem the golden.' + +Every word, with all its weight of meaning, came winging to our souls, +till we found ourselves gazing afar into those stately halls of Zion, +with their daylight serene and their jubilant throngs. When the singer +came to the last verse there was a pause. Again Mr. Craig softly played +the interlude, but still there was no voice. I looked up. She was very +white, and her eyes were glowing with their deep light. Mr. Craig looked +quickly about, saw her, stopped, and half rose, as if to go to her, +when, in a voice that seemed to come from a far-off land, she went on-- + + 'O sweet and blessed country!' + +The longing, the yearning, in the second 'O' were indescribable. Again +and again, as she held that word, and then dropped down with the cadence +in the music, my heart ached for I knew not what. + +The audience were sitting as in a trance. The grimy faces of the miners, +for they never get quite white, were furrowed with the tear-courses. +Shaw, by this time, had his face too lifted high, his eyes gazing far +above the singer's head, and I knew by the rapture in his face that he +was seeing, as she saw, the thronging stately halls and the white-robed +conquerors. He had felt, and was still feeling, all the stress of +the fight, and to him the vision of the conquerors in their glory was +soul-drawing and soul-stirring. And Nixon, too--he had his vision; but +what he saw was the face of the singer, with the shining eyes, and, by +the look of him, that was vision enough. + +Immediately after her last note Mrs. Mavor stretched out her hands to +her little girl, who was sitting on my knee, caught her up, and, holding +her close to her breast, walked quickly behind the curtain. Not a sound +followed the singing: no one moved till she had disappeared; and then +Mr. Craig came to the front, and, motioning to me to follow Mrs. Mavor, +began in a low, distinct voice-- + +'Gentlemen, it was not easy for Mrs. Mavor to sing for us, and you +know she sang because she is a miner's wife, and her heart is with the +miners. But she sang, too, because her heart is His who came to earth +this day so many years ago to save us all; and she would make you love +Him too. For in loving Him you are saved from all base loves, and you +know what I mean. + +'And before we say good-night, men, I want to know if the time is not +come when all of you who mean to be better than you are should join in +putting from us this thing that has brought sorrow and shame to us and +to those we love? You know what I mean. Some of you are strong; will you +stand by and see weaker men robbed of the money they save for those far +away, and robbed of the manhood that no money can buy or restore? + +'Will the strong men help? Shall we all join hands in this? What do you +say? In this town we have often seen hell, and just a moment ago we were +all looking into heaven, "the sweet and blessed country." O men!' and +his voice rang in an agony through the building--'O men! which shall be +ours? For Heaven's dear sake, let us help one another! Who will?' + +I was looking out through a slit in the curtain. The men, already +wrought to intense feeling by the music, were listening with set faces +and gleaming eyes, and as at the appeal 'Who will?' Craig raised high +his hand, Shaw, Nixon, and a hundred men sprang to their feet and held +high their hands. + +I have witnessed some thrilling scenes in my life, but never anything +to equal that: the one man on the platform standing at full height, +with his hand thrown up to heaven, and the hundred men below standing +straight, with arms up at full length, silent, and almost motionless. + +For a moment Craig held them so; and again his voice rang out, louder, +sterner than before-- + +'All who mean it, say, "By God's help I will."' And back from a hundred +throats came deep and strong the words, 'By God's help, I will.' + +At this point Mrs. Mavor, whom I had quite forgotten, put her hand on +my arm. 'Go and tell him,' she panted, 'I want them to come on Thursday +night, as they used to in the other days--go--quick,' and she almost +pushed me out. I gave Craig her message. He held up his hand for +silence. + +'Mrs. Mavor wishes me to say that she will be glad to see you all, as in +the old days, on Thursday evening; and I can think of no better place to +give formal expression to our pledge of this night' + +There was a shout of acceptance; and then, at some one's call, the long +pent-up feelings of the crowd found vent in three mighty cheers for Mrs. +Mavor. + +'Now for our old hymn,' called out Mr. Craig, 'and Mrs. Mavor will lead +us.' + +He sat down at the organ, played a few bars of 'The Sweet By and By,' +and then Mrs. Mavor began. But not a soul joined till the refrain was +reached, and then they sang as only men with their hearts on fire can +sing. But after the last refrain Mr. Craig made a sign to Mrs. Mavor, +and she sang alone, slowly and softly, and with eyes looking far away-- + + 'In the sweet by and by, + We shall meet on that beautiful shore.' + +There was no benediction--there seemed no need; and the men went quietly +out. But over and over again the voice kept singing in my ears and in +my heart, 'We shall meet on that beautiful shore.' And after the +sleigh-loads of men had gone and left the street empty, as I stood with +Craig in the radiant moonlight that made the great mountains about +come near us, from Sandy's sleigh we heard in the distance Baptiste's +French-English song; but the song that floated down with the sound of +the bells from the miners' sleigh was-- + + 'We shall meet on that beautiful shore.' + +'Poor old Shaw!' said Craig softly. + +When the last sound had died away I turned to him and said-- + + 'You have won your fight.' + +'We have won our fight; I was beaten,' he replied quickly, offering +me his hand. Then, taking off his cap, and looking up beyond the +mountain-tops and the silent stars, he added softly, 'Our fight, but His +victory.' + +And, thinking it all over, I could not say but perhaps he was right. + + +CHAPTER IV + +MRS. MAVOR'S STORY + + +The days that followed the Black Rock Christmas were anxious days and +weary, but not for the brightest of my life would I change them now; +for, as after the burning heat or rocking storm the dying day lies +beautiful in the tender glow of the evening, so these days have lost +their weariness and lie bathed in a misty glory. The years that bring us +many ills, and that pass so stormfully over us, bear away with them the +ugliness, the weariness, the pain that are theirs, but the beauty, the +sweetness, the rest they leave untouched, for these are eternal. As +the mountains, that near at hand stand jagged and scarred, in the far +distance repose in their soft robes of purple haze, so the rough present +fades into the past, soft and sweet and beautiful. + +I have set myself to recall the pain and anxiety of those days and +nights when we waited in fear for the turn of the fever, but I can only +think of the patience and gentleness and courage of her who stood beside +me, bearing more than half my burden. And while I can see the face +of Leslie Graeme, ghastly or flushed, and hear his low moaning or the +broken words of his delirium, I think chiefly of the bright face bending +over him, and of the cool, firm, swift-moving hands that soothed and +smoothed and rested, and the voice, like the soft song of a bird in the +twilight, that never failed to bring peace. + +Mrs. Mavor and I were much together during those days. I made my home +in Mr. Craig's shack, but most of my time was spent beside my friend. We +did not see much of Craig, for he was heart-deep with the miners, laying +plans for the making of the League the following Thursday; and though he +shared our anxiety and was ever ready to relieve us, his thought and his +talk had mostly to do with the League. + +Mrs. Mavor's evenings were given to the miners, but her afternoons +mostly to Graeme and to me, and then it was I saw another side of her +character. We would sit in her little dining-room, where the pictures on +the walls, the quaint old silver, and bits of curiously cut glass, all +spoke of other and different days, and thence we would roam the world +of literature and art. Keenly sensitive to all the good and beautiful in +these, she had her favourites among the masters, for whom she was ready +to do battle; and when her argument, instinct with fancy and vivid +imagination, failed, she swept away all opposing opinion with the swift +rush of her enthusiasm; so that, though I felt she was beaten, I was +left without words to reply. Shakespeare and Tennyson and Burns she +loved, but not Shelley, nor Byron, nor even Wordsworth. Browning she +knew not, and therefore could not rank him with her noblest three; but +when I read to her 'A Death in the Desert,' and, came to the noble words +at the end of the tale-- + + 'For all was as I say, and now the man + Lies as he once lay, breast to breast with God,' + +the light shone in her eyes, and she said, 'Oh, that is good and great; +I shall get much out of him; I had always feared he was impossible.' +And 'Paracelsus,' too, stirred her; but when I recited the thrilling +fragment, 'Prospice,' on to that closing rapturous cry-- + + 'Then a light, then thy breast, + O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, + And with God be the rest!'-- + +the red colour faded from her cheek, her breath came in a sob, and she +rose quickly and passed out without a word. Ever after, Browning was +among her gods. But when we talked of music, she, adoring Wagner, +soared upon the wings of the mighty Tannhauser, far above, into regions +unknown, leaving me to walk soberly with Beethoven and Mendelssohn. +Yet with all our free, frank talk, there was all the while that in her +gentle courtesy which kept me from venturing into any chamber of her +life whose door she did not set freely open to me. So I vexed myself +about her, and when Mr. Craig returned the next week from the Landing +where he had been for some days, my first question was-- + +'Who is Mrs. Mavor? And how in the name of all that is wonderful and +unlikely does she come to be here? And why does she stay?' + +He would not answer then; whether it was that his mind was full of the +coming struggle, or whether he shrank from the tale, I know not; but +that night, when we sat together beside his fire, he told me the story, +while I smoked. He was worn with his long, hard drive, and with the +burden of his work, but as he went on with his tale, looking into the +fire as he told it, he forgot all his present weariness and lived again +the scenes he painted for me. This was his story:-- + +'I remember well my first sight of her, as she sprang from the front +seat of the stage to the ground, hardly touching her husband's hand. She +looked a mere girl. Let's see--five years ago--she couldn't have been a +day over twenty three. She looked barely twenty. Her swift glance swept +over the group of miners at the hotel door, and then rested on the +mountains standing in all their autumn glory. + +'I was proud of our mountains that evening. Turning to her husband, she +exclaimed: "O Lewis, are they not grand? and lovely, too?" Every miner +lost his heart then and there, but all waited for Abe the driver to give +his verdict before venturing an opinion. Abe said nothing until he had +taken a preliminary drink, and then, calling all hands to fill up, he +lifted his glass high, and said solemnly-- + +'"Boys, here's to her." + +'Like a flash every glass was emptied, and Abe called out, "Fill her up +again, boys! My treat!" + +'He was evidently quite worked up. Then he began, with solemn emphasis-- + +'"Boys, you hear me! She's a No. 1, triple X, the pure quill with a bead +on it: she's a--," and for the first time in his Black Rock history Abe +was stuck for a word. Some one suggested "angel." + +'"Angel!" repeated Abe, with infinite contempt. "Angel be blowed," (I +paraphrase here); "angels ain't in the same month with her; I'd like +to see any blanked angel swing my team around them curves without a +shiver." + +'"Held the lines herself, Abe?" asked a miner. + +'"That's what," said Abe; and then he went off into a fusilade of +scientific profanity, expressive of his esteem for the girl who had +swung his team round the curves; and the miners nodded to each other, +and winked their entire approval of Abe's performance, for this was his +specialty. + +'Very decent fellow, Abe, but his talk wouldn't print.' + +Here Craig paused, as if balancing Abe's virtues and vices. + +'Well,' I urged, 'who is she?' + +'Oh yes,' he said, recalling himself; 'she is an Edinburgh young +lady--met Lewis Mayor, a young Scotch-English man, in London--wealthy, +good family, and all that, but fast, and going to pieces at home. His +people, who own large shares in these mines here, as a last resort +sent him out here to reform. Curiously innocent ideas those old country +people have of the reforming properties of this atmosphere! They send +their young bloods here to reform. Here! in this devil's camp-ground, +where a man's lust is his only law, and when, from sheer monotony, a man +must betake himself to the only excitement of the place--that offered +by the saloon. Good people in the east hold up holy hands of horror at +these godless miners; but I tell you it's asking these boys a good deal +to keep straight and clean in a place like this. I take my excitement +in fighting the devil and doing my work generally, and that gives me +enough; but these poor chaps--hard worked, homeless, with no break or +change--God help them and me!' and his voice sank low. + +'Well,' I persisted, 'did Mavor reform?' + +Again he roused himself. 'Reform? Not exactly. In six-months he had +broken through all restraint; and, mind you, not the miners' fault--not +a miner helped him down. It was a sight to make angels weep when Mrs. +Mavor would come to the saloon door for her husband. Every miner would +vanish; they could not look upon her shame, and they would send Mavor +forth in the charge of Billy Breen, a queer little chap, who had +belonged to the Mavors in some way in the old country, and between them +they would get him home. How she stood it puzzles me to this day; but +she never made any sign, and her courage never failed. It was always a +bright, brave, proud face she held up to the world--except in church; +there it was different. I used to preach my sermons, I believe, mostly +for her--but never so that she could suspect--as bravely and as cheerily +as I could. And as she listened, and especially as she sang--how she +used to sing in those days!--there was no touch of pride in her face, +though the courage never died out, but appeal, appeal! I could have +cursed aloud the cause of her misery, or wept for the pity of it. Before +her baby was born he seemed to pull himself together, for he was +quite mad about her, and from the day the baby came--talk about +miracles!--from that day he never drank a drop. She gave the baby over +to him, and the baby simply absorbed him. + +'He was a new man. He could not drink whisky and kiss his baby. And +the miners--it was really absurd if it were not so pathetic. It was the +first baby in Black Rock, and they used to crowd Mavor's shop and peep +into the room at the back of it--I forgot to tell you that when he +lost his position as manager he opened a hardware shop, for his people +chucked him, and he was too proud to write home for money--just for a +chance to be asked in to see the baby. I came upon Nixon standing at the +back of the shop after he had seen the baby for the first time, sobbing +hard, and to my question he replied: "It's just like my own." You can't +understand this. But to men who have lived so long in the mountains that +they have forgotten what a baby looks like, who have had experience of +humanity only in its roughest, foulest form, this little mite, sweet +and clean, was like an angel fresh from heaven, the one link in all that +black camp that bound them to what was purest and best in their past. + +'And to see the mother and her baby handle the miners! + +'Oh, it was all beautiful beyond words! I shall never forget the shock +I got one night when I found "Old Ricketts" nursing the baby. A drunken +old beast he was; but there he was sitting, sober enough, making +extraordinary faces at the baby, who was grabbing at his nose and +whiskers and cooing in blissful delight. Poor "Old Ricketts" looked as +if he had been caught stealing, and muttering something about having to +go, gazed wildly round for some place in which to lay the baby, when in +came the mother, saying in her own sweet, frank way: "O Mr. Ricketts" +(she didn't find out till afterwards his name was Shaw), "would you mind +keeping her just a little longer?--I shall be back in a few minutes." +And "Old Ricketts" guessed he could wait. + +'But in six months mother and baby, between them, transformed "Old +Ricketts" into Mr. Shaw, fire-boss of the mines. And then in the +evenings, when she would be singing her baby to sleep, the little shop +would be full of miners, listening in dead silence to the baby-songs, +and the English songs, and the Scotch songs she poured forth without +stint, for she sang more for them than for her baby. No wonder they +adored her. She was so bright, so gay, she brought light with her when +she went into the camp, into the pits--for she went down to see the men +work--or into a sick miner's shack; and many a man, lonely and sick +for home or wife, or baby or mother, found in that back room cheer and +comfort and courage, and to many a poor broken wretch that room became, +as one miner put it, "the anteroom to heaven."' + +Mr. Craig paused, and I waited. Then he went on slowly-- + +'For a year and a half that was the happiest home in all the world, till +one day--' + +He put his face in his hands, and shuddered. + +'I don't think I can ever forget the awful horror of that bright fall +afternoon, when "Old Ricketts" came breathless to me and gasped, "Come! +for the dear Lord's sake," and I rushed after him. At the mouth of +the shaft lay three men dead. One was Lewis Mavor. He had gone down to +superintend the running of a new drift; the two men, half drunk with +Slavin's whisky, set off a shot prematurely, to their own and Mavor's +destruction. They were badly burned, but his face was untouched. A miner +was sponging off the bloody froth oozing from his lips. The others were +standing about waiting for me to speak. But I could find no word, for my +heart was sick, thinking, as they were, of the young mother and her baby +waiting at home. So I stood, looking stupidly from one to the other, +trying to find some reason--coward that I was--why another should bear +the news rather than I. And while we stood there, looking at one another +in fear, there broke upon us the sound of a voice mounting high above +the birch tops, singing-- + + "Will ye no' come back again? + Will ye no' come back again? + Better lo'ed ye canna be, + Will ye no' come back again?" + +'A strange terror seized us. Instinctively the men closed up in front of +the body, and stood in silence. Nearer and nearer came the clear, sweet +voice, ringing like a silver bell up the steep-- + + "Sweet the lav'rock's note and lang, + Liltin' wildly up the glen, + But aye tae me he sings ae sang, + Will ye no' come back again?" + +'Before the verse was finished "Old Ricketts" had dropped on his +knees, sobbing out brokenly, "O God! O God! have pity, have pity, have +pity!"--and every man took off his hat. And still the voice came nearer, +singing so brightly the refrain, + + '"Will ye no' come back again?' + +'It became unbearable. "Old Ricketts" sprang suddenly to his feet, and, +gripping me by the arm, said piteously, "Oh, go to her! for Heaven's +sake, go to her!" I next remember standing in her path and seeing her +holding out her hands full of red lilies, crying out, "Are they not +lovely? Lewis is so fond of them!" With the promise of much finer ones I +turned her down a path toward the river, talking I know not what folly, +till her great eyes grew grave, then anxious, and my tongue stammered +and became silent. Then, laying her hand upon my arm, she said with +gentle sweetness, "Tell me your trouble, Mr. Craig," and I knew my agony +had come, and I burst out, "Oh, if it were only mine!" She turned quite +white, and with her deep eyes--you've noticed her eyes--drawing the +truth out of mine, she said, "Is it mine, Mr. Craig, and my baby's?" +I waited, thinking with what words to begin. She put one hand to her +heart, and with the other caught a little poplar-tree that shivered +under her grasp, and said with white lips, but even more gently, "Tell +me." I wondered at my voice being so steady as I said, "Mrs. Mavor, God +will help you and your baby. There has been an accident--and it is all +over." + +'She was a miner's wife, and there was no need for more. I could see +the pattern of the sunlight falling through the trees upon the grass. I +could hear the murmur of the river, and the cry of the cat-bird in the +bushes, but we seemed to be in a strange and unreal world. Suddenly she +stretched out her hands to me, and with a little moan said, "Take me to +him." + +'"Sit down for a moment or two," I entreated. + +'"No, no! I am quite ready. See," she added quietly, "I am quite +strong." + +'I set off by a short cut leading to her home, hoping the men would be +there before us; but, passing me, she walked swiftly through the trees, +and I followed in fear. As we came near the main path I heard the sound +of feet, and I tried to stop her, but she, too, had heard and knew. "Oh, +let me go!" she said piteously; "you need not fear." And I had not +the heart to stop her. In a little opening among the pines we met the +bearers. When the men saw her, they laid their burden gently down upon +the carpet of yellow pine-needles, and then, for they had the hearts of +true men in them, they went away into the bushes and left her alone +with her dead. She went swiftly to his side, making no cry, but kneeling +beside him she stroked his face and hands, and touched his curls with +her fingers, murmuring all the time soft words of love. "O my darling, +my bonnie, bonnie darling, speak to me! Will ye not speak to me just one +little word? O my love, my love, my heart's love! Listen, my darling!" +And she put her lips to his ear, whispering, and then the awful +stillness. Suddenly she lifted her head and scanned his face, and then, +glancing round with a wild surprise in her eyes, she cried, "He will not +speak to me! Oh, he will not speak to me!" I signed to the men, and as +they came forward I went to her and took her hands. + +'"Oh," she said with a wail in her voice; "he will not speak to me." +The men were sobbing aloud. She looked at them with wide-open eyes of +wonder. "Why are they weeping? Will he never speak to me again? Tell +me," she insisted gently. The words were running through my head-- + + '"There's a land that is fairer than day," + +and I said them over to her, holding her hands firmly in mine. She gazed +at me as if in a dream, and the light slowly faded from her eyes as she +said, tearing her hands from mine and waving them towards the mountains +and the woods-- + +'"But never more here? Never more here?" + +'I believe in heaven and the other life, but I confess that for a moment +it all seemed shadowy beside the reality of this warm, bright world, +full of life and love. She was very ill for two nights, and when the +coffin was closed a new baby lay in the father's arms. + +'She slowly came back to life, but there were no more songs. The miners +still come about her shop, and talk to her baby, and bring her their +sorrows and troubles; but though she is always gentle, almost tender, +with them, no man ever says "Sing." And that is why I am glad she sang +last week; it will be good for her and good for them.' + +'Why does she stay?' I asked. + +'Mavor's people wanted her to go to them,' he replied. + +'They have money--she told me about it, but her heart is in the grave +up there under the pines; and besides, she hopes to do something for the +miners, and she will not leave them.' + +I am afraid I snorted a little impatiently as I said, 'Nonsense! why, +with her face, and manner, and voice she could be anything she liked in +Edinburgh or in London.' + +'And why Edinburgh or London?' he asked coolly. + +'Why?' I repeated a little hotly. 'You think this is better?' + +'Nazareth was good enough for the Lord of glory,' he answered, with +a smile none too bright; but it drew my heart to him, and my heat was +gone. + +'How long will she stay?' I asked. + +'Till her work is done,' he replied. + +'And when will that be?' I asked impatiently. + +'When God chooses,' he answered gravely; 'and don't you ever think but +that it is worth while. One value of work is not that crowds stare at +it. Read history, man!' + +He rose abruptly and began to walk about. 'And don't miss the whole +meaning of the Life that lies at the foundation of your religion. Yes,' +he added to himself, 'the work is worth doing--worth even her doing.' + +I could not think so then, but the light of the after years proved him +wiser than I. A man, to see far, must climb to some height, and I was +too much upon the plain in those days to catch even a glimpse of distant +sunlit uplands of triumphant achievement that lie beyond the valley of +self-sacrifice. + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MAKING OF THE LEAGUE + + +Thursday morning found Craig anxious, even gloomy, but with fight +in every line of his face. I tried to cheer him in my clumsy way by +chaffing him about his League. But he did not blaze up as he often did. +It was a thing too near his heart for that. He only shrank a little from +my stupid chaff and said-- + +'Don't, old chap; this is a good deal to me. I've tried for two years to +get this, and if it falls through now, I shall find it hard to bear.' + +Then I repented my light words and said, 'Why! the thing will go sure +enough: after that scene in the church they won't go back.' + +'Poor fellows!' he said as if to himself; 'whisky is about the only +excitement they have, and they find it pretty tough to give it up; and +a lot of the men are against the total abstinence idea. It seems rot to +them.' + +'It is pretty steep,' I said. 'Can't you do without it?' + +'No; I fear not. There is nothing else for it. Some of them talk of +compromise. They want to quit the saloon and drink quietly in their +shacks. The moderate drinker may have his place in other countries, +though I can't see it. I haven't thought that out, but here the only +safe man is the man who quits it dead and fights it straight; anything +else is sheerest humbug and nonsense.' + +I had not gone in much for total abstinence up to this time, chiefly +because its advocates seemed for the most part to be somewhat +ill-balanced; but as I listened to Craig, I began to feel that perhaps +there was a total abstinence side to the temperance question; and as to +Black Rock, I could see how it must be one thing or the other. + +We found Mrs. Mavor brave and bright. She shared Mr. Craig's anxiety +but not his gloom. Her courage was of that serene kind that refuses to +believe defeat possible, and lifts the spirit into the triumph of final +victory. Through the past week she had been carefully disposing her +forces and winning recruits. And yet she never seemed to urge or +persuade the men; but as evening after evening the miners dropped into +the cosy room downstairs, with her talk and her songs she charmed them +till they were wholly hers. She took for granted their loyalty, trusted +them utterly, and so made it difficult for them to be other than true +men. + +That night Mrs. Mavor's large storeroom, which had been fitted up with +seats, was crowded with miners when Mr. Craig and I entered. + +After a glance over the crowd, Craig said, 'There's the manager; that +means war.' And I saw a tall man, very fair, whose chin fell away to +the vanishing point, and whose hair was parted in the middle, talking +to Mrs. Mavor. She was dressed in some rich soft stuff that became her +well. She was looking beautiful as ever, but there was something quite +new in her manner. Her air of good-fellowship was gone, and she was +the high-bred lady, whose gentle dignity and sweet grace, while very +winning, made familiarity impossible. + +The manager was doing his best, and appeared to be well pleased with +himself. 'She'll get him if any one can. I failed,' said Craig. + +I stood looking at the men, and a fine lot of fellows they were. Free, +easy, bold in their bearing, they gave no sign of rudeness; and, from +their frequent glances toward Mrs. Mavor, I could see they were always +conscious of her presence. No men are so truly gentle as are the +Westerners in the presence of a good woman. They were evidently of +all classes and ranks originally, but now, and in this country of real +measurements, they ranked simply according to the 'man' in them. 'See +that handsome, young chap of dissipated appearance?' said Craig; 'that's +Vernon Winton, an Oxford graduate, blue blood, awfully plucky, but quite +gone. When he gets repentant, instead of shooting himself, he comes to +Mrs. Mavor. Fact.' + +'From Oxford University to Black Rock mining camp is something of a +step,' I replied. + +'That queer-looking little chap in the corner is Billy Breen. How in +the world has he got here?' went on Mr. Craig. Queer-looking he was. A +little man, with a small head set on heavy square shoulders, long +arms, and huge hands that sprawled all over his body; altogether a most +ungainly specimen of humanity. + +By this time Mrs. Mavor had finished with the manager, and was in the +centre of a group of miners. Her grand air was all gone, and she was +their comrade, their friend, one of themselves. Nor did she assume the +role of entertainer, but rather did she, with half-shy air, cast herself +upon their chivalry, and they were too truly gentlemen to fail her. It +is hard to make Western men, and especially old-timers, talk. But +this gift was hers, and it stirred my admiration to see her draw on a +grizzled veteran to tell how, twenty years ago, he had crossed the Great +Divide, and had seen and done what no longer fell to men to see or do +in these new days. And so she won the old-timer. But it was beautiful to +see the innocent guile with which she caught Billy Breen, and drew him +to her corner near the organ. What she was saying I knew not, but poor +Billy was protesting, waving his big hands. + +The meeting came to order, with Shaw in the chair, and the handsome +young Oxford man secretary. Shaw stated the object of the meeting in a +few halting words; but when he came to speak of the pleasure he and all +felt in being together in that room, his words flowed in a stream, warm +and full. Then there was a pause, and Mr. Craig was called. But he knew +better than to speak at that point. Finally Nixon rose hesitatingly; +but, as he caught a bright smile from Mrs. Mavor, he straightened +himself as if for a fight. + +'I ain't no good at makin' speeches,' he began; 'but it ain't speeches +we want. We've got somethin' to do, and what we want to know is how to +do it. And to be right plain, we want to know how to drive this cursed +whisky out of Black Rock. You all know what it's doing for us--at least +for some of us. And it's time to stop it now, or for some of us it'll +mighty soon be too late. And the only way to stop its work is to quit +drinkin' it and help others to quit. I hear some talk of a League, and +what I say is, if it's a League out and out against whisky, a Total +Abstinence right to the ground, then I'm with it--that's my talk--I move +we make that kind of League.' + +Nixon sat down amid cheers and a chorus of remarks, 'Good man!' 'That's +the talk!' 'Stay with it!' but he waited for the smile and the glance +that came to him from the beautiful face in the corner, and with that he +seemed content. + +Again there was silence. Then the secretary rose with a slight flush +upon his handsome, delicate face, and seconded the motion. If they would +pardon a personal reference he would give them his reasons. He had come +to this country to make his fortune; now he was anxious to make enough +to enable him to go home with some degree of honour. His home held +everything that was dear to him. Between him and that home, between him +and all that was good and beautiful and honourable, stood whisky. 'I am +ashamed to confess,' and the flush deepened on his cheek, and his lips +grew thinner, 'that I feel the need of some such league.' His handsome +face, his perfect style of address, learned possibly in the 'Union,' +but, more than all, his show of nerve--for these men knew how to value +that--made a strong impression on his audience; but there were no +following cheers. + +Mr. Craig appeared hopeful; but on Mrs. Mavor's face there was a look of +wistful, tender pity, for she knew how much the words had cost the lad. + +Then up rose a sturdy, hard-featured man, with a burr in his voice +that proclaimed his birth. His name was George Crawford, I afterwards +learned, but every one called him Geordie. He was a character in his +way, fond of his glass; but though he was never known to refuse a drink, +he was never known to be drunk. He took his drink, for the most part, +with bread and cheese in his own shack, or with a friend or two in a +sober, respectable way, but never could be induced to join the wild +carousals in Slavin's saloon. He made the highest wages, but was far too +true a Scot to spend his money recklessly. Every one waited eagerly +to hear Geordie's mind. He spoke solemnly, as befitted a Scotsman +expressing a deliberate opinion, and carefully, as if choosing his best +English, for when Geordie became excited no one in Black Rock could +understand him. + +'Maister Chairman,' said Geordie, 'I'm aye for temperance in a' things.' +There was a shout of laughter, at which Geordie gazed round in pained +surprise. 'I'll no' deny,' he went on in an explanatory tone, 'that I +tak ma mornin', an' maybe a nip at noon; an' a wee drap aifter wark in +the evenin', an' whiles a sip o' toddy wi' a freen thae cauld nichts. +But I'm no' a guzzler, an' I dinna gang in wi' thae loons flingin' aboot +guid money.' + +'And that's thrue for you, me bye,' interrupted a rich Irish brogue, to +the delight of the crowd and the amazement of Geordie, who went calmly +on-- + +'An' I canna bide yon saloon whaur they sell sic awfu'-like stuff--it's +mair like lye nor guid whisky,--and whaur ye're never sure o' yer richt +change. It's an awfu'-like place; man!'--and Geordie began to warm +up--'ye can juist smell the sulphur when ye gang in. But I dinna care +aboot thae Temperance Soceeities, wi' their pledges an' havers; an' +I canna see what hairm can come till a man by takin' a bottle o' guid +Glenlivet hame wi' him. I canna bide thae teetotal buddies.' + +Geordie's speech was followed by loud applause, partly appreciative of +Geordie himself, but largely sympathetic with his position. + +Two or three men followed in the same strain advocating a league for +mutual improvement and social purposes, but without the teetotal pledge; +they were against the saloon, but didn't see why they should not take a +drink now and then. + +Finally the manager rose to support his 'friend, Mistah--ah--Cwafoad,' +ridiculing the idea of a total abstinence pledge as fanatical and indeed +'absuad.' He was opposed to the saloon, and would like to see a club +formed, with a comfortable club-room, books, magazines, pictures, games, +anything, 'dontcheknow, to make the time pass pleasantly'; but it was +'absuad to ask men to abstain fwom a pwopah use of--aw--nouwishing +dwinks,' because some men made beasts of themselves. He concluded by +offering $50.00 towards the support of such a club. + +The current of feeling was setting strongly against the total abstinence +idea, and Craig's face was hard and his eyes gleamed like coals. Then he +did a bit of generalship. He proposed that since they had the two plans +clearly before them they should take a few minutes' intermission in +which to make up their minds, and he was sure they would be glad to have +Mrs. Mavor sing. In the interval the men talked in groups, eagerly, even +fiercely, hampered seriously in the forceful expression of their opinion +by the presence of Mrs. Mavor, who glided from group to group, dropping +a word here and a smile there. She reminded me of a general riding along +the ranks, bracing his men for the coming battle. She paused beside +Geordie, spoke earnestly for a few moments, while Geordie gazed solemnly +at her, and then she came back to Billy in the corner near me. What she +was saying I could not hear, but poor Billy was protesting, spreading +his hands out aimlessly before him, but gazing at her the while in +dumb admiration. Then she came to me. 'Poor Billy, he was good to my +husband,' she said softly, 'and he has a good heart.' + +'He's not much to look at,' I could not help saying. + +'The oyster hides its pearl,' she answered, a little reproachfully. + +'The shell is apparent enough,' I replied, for the mischief was in me. + +'Ah yes,' she replied softly, 'but it is the pearl we love.' + +I moved over beside Billy, whose eyes were following Mrs. Mavor as she +went to speak to Mr. Craig. 'Well,' I said; 'you all seem to have a high +opinion of her.' + +'An 'igh hopinion,' he replied, in deep scorn. 'An 'igh hopinion, you +calls it.' + +'What would you call it?' I asked, wishing to draw him out. + +'Oi don't call it nothink,' he replied, spreading out his rough hands. + +'She seems very nice,' I said indifferently. + +He drew his eyes away from Mrs. Mavor, and gave attention to me for the +first time. + +'Nice!' he repeated with fine contempt; and then he added impressively, +'Them as don't know shouldn't say nothink.' + +'You are right,' I answered earnestly, 'and I am quite of your opinion.' + +He gave me a quick glance out of his little, deep-set, dark-blue eyes, +and opened his heart to me. He told me, in his quaint speech, how again +and again she had taken him in and nursed him, and encouraged him, and +sent him out with a new heart for his battle, until, for very shame's +sake at his own miserable weakness, he had kept out of her way for many +months, going steadily down. + +'Now, oi hain't got no grip; but when she says to me to-night, says +she, "Oh, Billy"--she calls me Billy to myself' (this with a touch of +pride)--'"oh, Billy," says she, "we must 'ave a total habstinence league +to-night, and oi want you to 'elp!" and she keeps a-lookin' at me with +those heyes o' hern till, if you believe me, sir,' lowering his voice to +an emphatic whisper, 'though oi knowed oi couldn't 'elp none, afore oi +knowed oi promised 'er oi would. It's 'er heyes. When them heyes says +"do," hup you steps and "does."' + +I remembered my first look into her eyes, and I could quite understand +Billy's submission. Just as she began to sing I went over to Geordie and +took my seat beside him. She began with an English slumber song, +'Sleep, Baby, Sleep'--one of Barry Cornwall's, I think,--and then sang +a love-song with the refrain, 'Love once again'; but no thrills came to +me, and I began to wonder if her spell over me was broken. Geordie, who +had been listening somewhat indifferently, encouraged me, however, by +saying, 'She's just pittin' aff time with thae feckless sangs; man, +there's nae grup till them.' But when, after a few minutes' pause, +she began 'My Ain Fireside,' Geordie gave a sigh of satisfaction. 'Ay, +that's somethin' like,' and when she finished the first verse he gave me +a dig in the ribs with his elbow that took my breath away, saying in a +whisper, 'Man, hear till yon, wull ye?' And again I found the spell +upon me. It was not the voice after all, but the great soul behind that +thrilled and compelled. She was seeing, feeling, living what she sang, +and her voice showed us her heart. The cosy fireside, with its bonnie, +blithe blink, where no care could abide, but only peace and love, was +vividly present to her, and as she sang we saw it too. When she came to +the last verse-- + + 'When I draw in my stool + On my cosy hearth-stane, + My heart loups sae licht + I scarce ken't for my ain,' + +there was a feeling of tears in the flowing song, and we knew the words +had brought her a picture of the fireside that would always seem empty. +I felt the tears in my eyes, and, wondering at myself, I cast a stealthy +glance at the men about me; and I saw that they, too, were looking +through their hearts' windows upon firesides and ingle-neuks that +gleamed from far. + +And then she sang 'The Auld Hoose,' and Geordie, giving me another +poke, said, 'That's ma ain sang,' and when I asked him what he meant, +he whispered fiercely, 'Wheesht, man!' and I did, for his face looked +dangerous. + +In a pause between the verses I heard Geordie saying to himself, 'Ay, I +maun gie it up, I doot.' + +'What?' I ventured. + +'Naething ava.' And then he added impatiently, 'Man, but ye're an +inqueesitive buddie,' after which I subsided into silence. + +Immediately upon the meeting being called to order, Mr. Craig made his +speech, and it was a fine bit of work. Beginning with a clear statement +of the object in view, he set in contrast the two kinds of leagues +proposed. One, a league of men who would take whisky in moderation; the +other, a league of men who were pledged to drink none themselves, and to +prevent in every honourable way others from drinking. There was no long +argument, but he spoke at white heat; and as he appealed to the men +to think, each not of himself alone, but of the others as well, the +yearning, born of his long months of desire and of toil, vibrated in +his voice and reached to the heart. Many men looked uncomfortable and +uncertain, and even the manager looked none too cheerful. + +At this critical moment the crowd got a shock. Billy Breen shuffled +out to the front, and, in a voice shaking with nervousness and emotion, +began to speak, his large, coarse hands wandering tremulously about. + +'Oi hain't no bloomin' temperance horator, and mayhap oi hain't no right +to speak 'ere, but oi got somethin' to saigh (say) and oi'm agoin' to +saigh it. + +'Parson, 'ee says is it wisky or no wisky in this 'ere club? If ye +hask me, wich (which) ye don't, then no wisky, says oi; and if ye hask +why?--look at me! Once oi could mine more coal than hany man in the +camp; now oi hain't fit to be a sorter. Once oi 'ad some pride and +hambition; now oi 'angs round awaitin' for some one to saigh, "Ere, +Billy, 'ave summat." Once oi made good paigh (pay), and sent it 'ome +regular to my poor old mother (she's in the wukus now, she is); oi +hain't sent 'er hany for a year and a 'alf. Once Billy was a good fellow +and 'ad plenty o' friends; now Slavin 'isself kicks un hout, 'ee does. +Why? why?' His voice rose to a shriek. 'Because when Billy 'ad money +in 'is pocket, hevery man in this bloomin' camp as meets un at hevery +corner says, "'Ello, Billy, wat'll ye 'ave?" And there's wisky at +Slavin's, and there's wisky in the shacks, and hevery 'oliday and hevery +Sunday there's wisky, and w'en ye feel bad it's wisky, and w'en ye feel +good it's wisky, and heverywhere and halways it's wisky, wisky, wisky! +And now ye're goin' to stop it, and 'ow? T' manager, 'ee says picters +and magazines. 'Ee takes 'is wine and 'is beer like a gentleman, 'ee +does, and 'ee don't 'ave no use for Billy Breen. Billy, 'ee's a beast, +and t' manager, 'ee kicks un hout. But supposin' Billy wants to stop +bein' a beast, and starts a-tryin' to be a man again, and w'en 'ee +gets good an' dry, along comes some un and says, "'Ello, Billy, 'ave a +smile," it hain't picters nor magazines 'ud stop un then. Picters and +magazines! Gawd 'elp the man as hain't nothin' but picters and magazines +to 'elp un w'en 'ee's got a devil hinside and a devil houtside a-shovin' +and a-drawin' of un down to 'ell. And that's w'ere oi'm a-goin' +straight, and yer bloomin' League, wisky or no wisky, can't help me. +But,' and he lifted his trembling hands above his head, 'if ye stop the +wisky a-flowin' round this camp, ye'll stop some of these lads that's +a-followin' me 'ard. Yes, you! and you! and you!' and his voice rose to +a wild scream as he shook a trembling finger at one and another. + +'Man, it's fair gruesome tae hear him,' said Geordie; 'he's no' canny'; +and reaching out for Billy as he went stumbling past, he pulled him down +to a seat beside him, saying, 'Sit doon, lad, sit doon. We'll mak a man +o' ye yet.' Then he rose and, using many r's, said, 'Maister Chairman, +a' doot we'll juist hae to gie it up.' + +'Give it up?' called out Nixon. 'Give up the League?' + +'Na! na! lad, but juist the wee drap whusky. It's nae that guid onyway, +and it's a terrible price. Man, gin ye gang tae Henderson's in Buchanan +Street, in Gleska, ye ken, ye'll get mair for three-an'-saxpence than +ye wull at Slavin's for five dollars. An' it'll no' pit ye mad like yon +stuff, but it gangs doon smooth an' saft-like. But' (regretfully) 'ye'll +no' can get it here; an' a'm thinkin' a'll juist sign yon teetotal +thing.' And up he strode to the table and put his name down in the book +Craig had ready. Then to Billy he said, 'Come' awa, lad! pit yer name +doon, an' we'll stan' by ye.' + +Poor Billy looked around helplessly, his nerve all gone, and sat still. +There was a swift rustle of garments, and Mrs. Mavor was beside him, +and, in a voice that only Billy and I could hear, said, 'You'll sign +with, me, Billy?' + +Billy gazed at her with a hopeless look in his eyes, and shook his +little, head. She leaned slightly toward him, smiling brightly, and, +touching his arm gently, said-- + +'Come, Billy, there's no fear,' and in a lower voice, 'God will help +you.' + +As Billy went up, following Mrs. Mavor close, a hush fell on the men +until he had put his name to the pledge; then they came up, man by +man, and signed. But Craig sat with his head down till I touched his +shoulder. He took my hand and held it fast, saying over and over, under +his breath, 'Thank God, thank God!' + +And so the League was made. + + +CHAPTER VI + +BLACK ROCK RELIGION + + +When I grow weary with the conventions of religion, and sick in my soul +from feeding upon husks, that the churches too often offer me, in +the shape of elaborate service and eloquent discourses, so that in my +sickness I doubt and doubt, then I go back to the communion in Black +Rock and the days preceding it, and the fever and the weariness leave +me, and I grow humble and strong. The simplicity and rugged grandeur of +the faith, the humble gratitude of the rough men I see about the table, +and the calm radiance of one saintly face, rest and recall me. + +Not its most enthusiastic apologist would call Black Rock a religious +community, but it possessed in a marked degree that eminent Christian +virtue of tolerance. All creeds, all shades of religious opinion, were +allowed, and it was generally conceded that one was as good as another. +It is fair to say, however, that Black Rock's catholicity was negative +rather than positive. The only religion objectionable was that insisted +upon as a necessity. It never occurred to any one to consider religion +other than as a respectable, if not ornamental, addition to life in +older lands. + +During the weeks following the making of the League, however, this +negative attitude towards things religious gave place to one of keen +investigation and criticism. The indifference passed away, and with it, +in a large measure, the tolerance. Mr. Craig was responsible for the +former of these changes, but hardly, in fairness, could he be held +responsible for the latter. If any one, more than another, was to be +blamed for the rise of intolerance in the village, that man was Geordie +Crawford. He had his 'lines' from the Established Kirk of Scotland, and +when Mr. Craig announced his intention of having the Sacrament of the +Lord's Supper observed, Geordie produced his 'lines' and promptly handed +them in. As no other man in the village was equipped with like spiritual +credentials, Geordie constituted himself a kind of kirk-session, charged +with the double duty of guarding the entrance to the Lord's Table, and +of keeping an eye upon the theological opinions of the community, and +more particularly upon such members of it as gave evidence of possessing +any opinions definite enough for statement. + +It came to be Mr. Craig's habit to drop into the League-room, and toward +the close of the evening to have a short Scripture lesson from the +Gospels. Geordie's opportunity came after the meeting was over and Mr. +Craig had gone away. The men would hang about and talk the lesson over, +expressing opinions favourable or unfavourable as appeared to them good. +Then it was that all sorts of views, religious and otherwise, were aired +and examined. The originality of the ideas, the absolute disregard of +the authority of church or creed, the frankness with which opinions +were stated, and the forcefulness of the language in which they were +expressed, combined to make the discussions altogether marvellous. +The passage between Abe Baker, the stage-driver, and Geordie was +particularly rich. It followed upon a very telling lesson on the parable +of the Pharisee and the Publican. + +The chief actors in that wonderful story were transferred to the Black +Rock stage, and were presented in miner's costume. Abe was particularly +well pleased with the scoring of the 'blanked old rooster who crowed so +blanked high,' and somewhat incensed at the quiet remark interjected by +Geordie, 'that it was nae credit till a man tae be a sinner'; and +when Geordie went on to urge the importance of right conduct and +respectability, Abe was led to pour forth vials of contemptuous wrath +upon the Pharisees and hypocrites who thought themselves better +than other people. But Geordie was quite unruffled, and lamented +the ignorance of men who, brought up in 'Epeescopawlyun or Methody' +churches, could hardly be expected to detect the Antinomian or Arminian +heresies. + +'Aunty Nomyun or Uncle Nomyun,' replied Abe, boiling hot, 'my mother was +a Methodist, and I'll back any blanked Methodist against any blankety +blank long-faced, lantern-jawed, skinflint Presbyterian,' and this +he was eager to maintain to any man's satisfaction if he would step +outside. + +Geordie was quite unmoved, but hastened to assure Abe that he meant +no disrespect to his mother, who he had 'nae doot was a clever enough +buddie, tae judge by her son.' Abe was speedily appeased, and offered to +set up the drinks all round. But Geordie, with evident reluctance, had +to decline, saying, 'Na, na, lad, I'm a League man ye ken,' and I was +sure that Geordie at that moment felt that membership in the League had +its drawbacks. + +Nor was Geordie too sure of Craig's orthodoxy; while as to Mrs. Mavor, +whose slave he was, he was in the habit of lamenting her doctrinal +condition-- + +'She's a fine wumman, nae doot; but, puir cratur, she's fair carried awa +wi' the errors o' thae Epeescopawlyuns.' + +It fell to Geordie, therefore, as a sacred duty, in view of the laxity +of those who seemed to be the pillars of the Church, to be all the +more watchful and unyielding. But he was delightfully inconsistent when +confronted with particulars. In conversation with him one night after +one of the meetings, when he had been specially hard upon the ignorant +and godless, I innocently changed the subject to Billy Breen, whom +Geordie had taken to his shack since the night of the League. He was +very proud of Billy's success in the fight against whisky, the credit of +which he divided unevenly between Mrs. Mavor and himself. + +'He's fair daft aboot her,' he explained to me, 'an' I'll no' deny but +she's a great help, ay, a verra conseederable asseestance; but, man, she +doesna ken the whusky, an' the inside o' a man that's wantin' it. Ay, +puir buddie, she diz her pairt, an' when ye're a bit restless an thrawn +aifter yer day's wark, it's like a walk in a bonnie glen on a simmer +eve, with the birds liltin' aboot, tae sit in yon roomie and hear her +sing; but when the night is on, an' ye canna sleep, but wauken wi' an' +awfu' thurst and wi' dreams o' cosy firesides, and the bonnie sparklin' +glosses, as it is wi' puir Billy, ay, it's then ye need a man wi' a guid +grup beside ye.' + +'What do you do then, Geordie?' I asked. + +'Oo ay, I juist gang for a bit walk wi' the lad, and then pits the +kettle on an' maks a cup o' tea or coffee, an' aff he gangs tae sleep +like a bairn.' + +'Poor Billy,' I said pityingly, 'there's no hope for him in the future, +I fear.' + +'Hoot awa, man,' said Geordie quickly. 'Ye wadna keep oot a puir cratur +frae creepin' in, that's daein' his best?' + +'But, Geordie,' I remonstrated, 'he doesn't know anything of the +doctrines. I don't believe he could give us "The Chief End of Man."' + +'An' wha's tae blame for that?' said Geordie, with fine indignation. +'An' maybe you remember the prood Pharisee and the puir wumman that cam' +creepin' in ahint the Maister.' + +The mingled tenderness and indignation in Geordie's face were beautiful +to see, so I meekly answered, 'Well, I hope Mr. Craig won't be too +strict with the boys.' + +Geordie shot a suspicious glance at me, but I kept my face like a summer +morn, and he replied cautiously-- + +'Ay, he's no' that streect: but he maun exerceese discreemination.' + +Geordie was none the less determined, however, that Billy should 'come +forrit'; but as to the manager, who was a member of the English Church, +and some others who had been confirmed years ago, and had forgotten much +and denied more, he was extremely doubtful, and expressed himself in +very decided words to the minister-- + +'Ye'll no' be askin' forrit thae Epeescopawlyun buddies. They juist ken +naething ava.' + +But Mr. Craig looked at him for a moment and said, "Him that cometh +unto Me I will in no wise cast out,"' and Geordie was silent, though he +continued doubtful. + +With all these somewhat fantastic features, however, there was no +mistaking the earnest spirit of the men. The meetings grew larger +every night, and the interest became more intense. The singing became +different. The men no longer simply shouted, but as Mr. Craig would +call attention to the sentiment of the hymn, the voices would attune +themselves to the words. Instead of encouraging anything like emotional +excitement, Mr. Craig seemed to fear it. + +'These chaps are easily stirred up,' he would say, 'and I am anxious +that they should know exactly what they are doing. It is far too serious +a business to trifle with.' + +Although Graeme did not go downstairs to the meetings, he could not but +feel the throb of the emotion beating in the heart of the community. +I used to detail for his benefit, and sometimes for his amusement, the +incidents of each night. But I never felt quite easy in dwelling upon +the humorous features in Mrs. Mavor's presence, although Craig did not +appear to mind. His manner with Graeme was perfect. Openly anxious to +win him to his side, he did not improve the occasion and vex him with +exhortation. He would not take him at a disadvantage, though, as I +afterwards found, this was not his sole reason for his method. Mrs. +Mavor, too, showed herself in wise and tender light. She might have been +his sister, so frank was she and so openly affectionate, laughing at his +fretfulness and soothing his weariness. + +Never were better comrades than we four, and the bright days speeding so +swiftly on drew us nearer to one another. + +But the bright days came to an end; for Graeme, when once he was able +to go about, became anxious to get back to the camp. And so the last day +came, a day I remember well. It was a bright, crisp winter day. + +The air was shimmering in the frosty light. The mountains, with their +shining heads piercing through light clouds into that wonderful blue of +the western sky, and their feet pushed into the pine masses, gazed down +upon Black Rock with calm, kindly looks on their old grey faces. How +one grows to love them, steadfast old friends! Far up among the pines +we could see the smoke of the engine at the works, and so still and so +clear was the mountain air that we could hear the puff of the steam, and +from far down the river the murmur of the rapids. The majestic silence, +the tender beauty, the peace, the loneliness, too, came stealing in upon +us, as we three, leaving Mrs. Mavor behind us, marched arm-in-arm down +the street. We had not gone far on our way, when Graeme, turning round, +stood a moment looking back, then waved his hand in farewell. Mrs. Mavor +was at her window, smiling and waving in return. They had grown to +be great friends these two; and seemed to have arrived at some +understanding. Certainly, Graeme's manner to her was not that he bore +to other women. His half-quizzical, somewhat superior air of mocking +devotion gave place to a simple, earnest, almost tender, respect, very +new to him, but very winning. + +As he stood there waving his farewell, I glanced at his face and saw for +a moment what I had not seen for years, a faint flush on Graeme's cheek +and a light of simple, earnest faith in his eyes. It reminded me of +my first look of him when he had come up for his matriculation to the +'Varsity. He stood on the campus looking up at the noble old pile, and +there was the same bright, trustful, earnest look on his boyish face. + +I know not what spirit possessed me; it may have been the pain of the +memory working in me, but I said, coarsely enough, 'It's no use, Graeme, +my boy; I would fall in love with her myself, but there would be no +chance even for me.' + +The flush slowly darkened as he turned and said deliberately-- + +'It's not like you, Connor, to be an ass of that peculiar kind. +Love!--not exactly! She won't fall in love unless--' and he stopped +abruptly with his eyes upon Craig. + +But Craig met him with unshrinking gaze, quietly remarking, 'Her heart +is under the pines'; and we moved on, each thinking his own thoughts, +and guessing at the thoughts of the others. + +We were on our way to Craig's shack, and as we passed the saloon Slavin +stepped from the door with a salutation. Graeme paused. 'Hello, Slavin! +I got rather the worst of it, didn't I?' + +Slavin came near, and said earnestly, 'It was a dirty thrick altogether; +you'll not think it was moine, Mr. Graeme.' + +'No, no, Slavin! you stood up like a man,' said Graeme cheerfully. + +'And you bate me fair; an' bedad it was a nate one that laid me out; an' +there's no grudge in me heart till ye.' + +'All right, Slavin; we'll perhaps understand each other better after +this.' + +'An' that's thrue for yez, sor; an' I'll see that your byes don't get +any more than they ask for,' replied Slavin, backing away. + +'And I hope that won't be much,' put in Mr. Craig; but Slavin only +grinned. + +When we came to Craig's shack Graeme was glad to rest in the big chair. + +Craig made him a cup of tea, while I smoked, admiring much the deft +neatness of the minister's housekeeping, and the gentle, almost +motherly, way he had with Graeme. + +In our talk we drifted into the future, and Craig let us see what were +his ambitions. The railway was soon to come; the resources were, as yet, +unexplored, but enough was known to assure a great future for British +Columbia. As he talked his enthusiasm grew, and carried us away. With +the eye of a general he surveyed the country, fixed the strategic points +which the Church must seize upon. Eight good men would hold the country +from Fort Steele to the coast, and from Kootenay to Cariboo. + +'The Church must be in with the railway; she must have a hand in the +shaping of the country. If society crystallises without her influence, +the country is lost, and British Columbia will be another trap-door to +the bottomless pit.' + +'What do you propose?' I asked. + +'Organising a little congregation here in Black Rock.' + +'How many will you get?' + +'Don't know.' + +'Pretty hopeless business,' I said. + +'Hopeless! hopeless!' he cried; 'there were only twelve of us at first +to follow Him, and rather a poor lot they were. But He braced them up, +and they conquered the world.' + +'But surely things are different,' said Graeme. + +'Things? Yes! yes! But He is the same.' His face had an exalted look, +and his eyes were gazing into far-away places. + +'A dozen men in Black Rock with some real grip of Him would make things +go. We'll get them, too,' he went on in growing excitement. 'I believe +in my soul we'll get them.' + +'Look here, Craig; if you organise I'd like to join,' said Graeme +impulsively. 'I don't believe much in your creed or your Church, but +I'll be blowed if I don't believe in you.' + +Craig looked at him with wistful eyes, and shook his head. 'It won't do, +old chap, you know. I can't hold you. You've got to have a grip of some +one better than I am; and then, besides, I hardly like asking you now'; +he hesitated--'well, to be out-and-out, this step must be taken not for +my sake, nor for any man's sake, and I fancy that perhaps you feel like +pleasing me just now a little.' + +'That I do, old fellow,' said Graeme, putting out his hand. 'I'll be +hanged if I won't do anything you say.' + +'That's why I won't say,' replied Craig. Then reverently he added, 'the +organisation is not mine. It is my Master's.' + +'When are you going to begin?' asked Graeme. + +'We shall have our communion service in two weeks, and that will be our +roll-call.' + +'How many will answer?' I asked doubtfully. + +'I know of three,' he said quietly. + +'Three! There are two hundred miners and one hundred and fifty +lumbermen! Three!' and Graeme looked at him in amazement. 'You think it +worth while to organise three?' + +'Well,' replied Craig, smiling for the first time, 'the organisation +won't be elaborate, but it will be effective, and, besides, loyalty +demands obedience.' + +We sat long that afternoon talking, shrinking from the breaking up; for +we knew that we were about to turn down a chapter in our lives which we +should delight to linger over in after days. And in my life there is but +one brighter. At last we said good-bye and drove away; and though many +farewells have come in between that day and this, none is so vividly +present to me as that between us three men. Craig's manner with me was +solemn enough. '"He that loveth his life"; good-bye, don't fool with +this,' was what he said to me. But when he turned to Graeme his whole +face lit up. He took him by the shoulders and gave him a little shake, +looking into his eyes, and saying over and over in a low, sweet tone-- + +'You'll come, old chap, you'll come, you'll come. Tell me you'll come.' + +And Graeme could say nothing in reply, but only looked at him. Then they +silently shook hands, and we drove off. But long after we had got +over the mountain and into the winding forest road on the way to the +lumber-camp the voice kept vibrating in my heart, 'You'll come, you'll +come,' and there was a hot pain in my throat. + +We said little during the drive to the camp. Graeme was thinking hard, +and made no answer when I spoke to him two or three times, till we came +to the deep shadows of the pine forest, when with a little shiver he +said-- + +'It is all a tangle--a hopeless tangle.' + +'Meaning what?' I asked. + +'This business of religion--what quaint varieties--Nelson's, Geordie's, +Billy Breen's--if he has any--then Mrs. Mavor's--she is a saint, of +course--and that fellow Craig's. What a trump he is!--and without his +religion he'd be pretty much like the rest of us. It is too much for +me.' + +His mystery was not mine. The Black Rock varieties of religion were +certainly startling; but there was undoubtedly the streak of reality +though them all, and that discovery I felt to be a distinct gain. + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE FIRST BLACK ROCK COMMUNION + + +The gleam of the great fire through the windows of the great camp gave +a kindly welcome as we drove into the clearing in which the shanties +stood. Graeme was greatly touched at his enthusiastic welcome by the +men. At the supper-table he made a little speech of thanks for their +faithfulness during his absence, specially commending the care and +efficiency of Mr. Nelson, who had had charge of the camp. The men +cheered wildly, Baptiste's shrill voice leading all. Nelson being called +upon, expressed in a few words his pleasure at seeing the Boss back, and +thanked the men for their support while he had been in charge. + +The men were for making a night of it; but fearing the effect upon +Graeme, I spoke to Nelson, who passed the word, and in a short time the +camp was quiet. As we sauntered from the grub-camp to the office where +was our bed, we paused to take in the beauty of the night. The moon rode +high over the peaks of the mountains, flooding the narrow valley with +mellow light. Under her magic the rugged peaks softened their harsh +lines and seemed to lean lovingly toward us. The dark pine masses stood +silent as in breathless adoration; the dazzling snow lay like a garment +over all the open spaces in soft, waving folds, and crowned every stump +with a quaintly shaped nightcap. Above the camps the smoke curled up +from the camp-fires, standing like pillars of cloud that kept watch +while men slept. And high over all the deep blue night sky, with its +star jewels, sprang like the roof of a great cathedral from range to +range, covering us in its kindly shelter. How homelike and safe seemed +the valley with its mountain-sides, its sentinel trees and arching roof +of jewelled sky! Even the night seemed kindly, and friendly the stars; +and the lone cry of the wolf from the deep forest seemed like the voice +of a comrade. + +'How beautiful! too beautiful!' said Graeme, stretching out his arms. 'A +night like this takes the heart out of me.' + +I stood silent, drinking in at every sense the night with its wealth of +loveliness. + +'What is it I want?' he went on. 'Why does the night make my heart ache? +There are things to see and things to hear just beyond me; I cannot get +to them.' The gay, careless look was gone from his face, his dark eyes +were wistful with yearning. + +'I often wonder if life has nothing better for me,' he continued with +his heartache voice. + +I said no word, but put my arm within his. A light appeared in the +stable. Glad of a diversion, I said, 'What is the light? Let us go and +see.' + +'Sandy, taking a last look at his team, like enough.' + +We walked slowly toward the stable, speaking no word. As we neared the +door we heard the sound of a voice in the monotone of one reading. I +stepped forward and looked through a chink between the logs. Graeme was +about to open the door, but I held up my hand and beckoned him to me. In +a vacant stall, where was a pile of straw, a number of men were grouped. +Sandy, leaning against the tying-post upon which the stable-lantern +hung, was reading; Nelson was kneeling in front of him and gazing into +the gloom beyond; Baptiste lay upon his stomach, his chin in his hands +and his upturned eyes fastened upon Sandy's face; Lachlan Campbell sat +with his hands clasped about his knees, and two other men sat near him. +Sandy was reading the undying story of the Prodigal, Nelson now and then +stopping him to make a remark. It was a scene I have never been able +to forget. To-day I pause in my tale, and see it as clearly as when I +looked through the chink upon it years ago. The long, low stable, with +log walls and upright hitching-poles; the dim outlines of the horses +in the gloom of the background, and the little group of rough, almost +savage-looking men, with faces wondering and reverent, lit by the misty +light of the stable-lantern. + +After the reading, Sandy handed the book to Nelson, who put it in his +pocket, saying, 'That's for us, boys, ain't it?' + +'Ay,' said Lachlan; 'it is often that has been read in my hearing, but +I am afraid it will not be for me whatever,' and he swayed himself +slightly as he spoke, and his voice was full of pain. + +'The minister said I might come,' said old Nelson, earnestly and +hopefully. + +'Ay, but you are not Lachlan Campbell, and you hef not had his +privileges. My father was a godly elder in the Free Church of Scotland, +and never a night or morning but we took the Books.' + +'Yes, but He said "any man,"' persisted Nelson, putting his hand on +Lachlan's knee. But Lachlan shook his head. + +'Dat young feller,' said Baptiste; 'wha's hees nem, heh?' + +'He has no name. It is just a parable,' explained Sandy. + +'He's got no nem? He's just a parom'ble? Das no young feller?' asked +Baptiste anxiously; 'das mean noting?' + +Then Nelson took him in hand and explained to him the meaning, while +Baptiste listened even more eagerly, ejaculating softly, 'ah, voila! +bon! by gar!' When Nelson had finished he broke out, 'Dat young feller, +his name Baptiste, heh? and de old Fadder he's le bon Dieu? Bon! das +good story for me. How you go back? You go to de pries'?' + +'The book doesn't say priest or any one else,' said Nelson. 'You go back +in yourself, you see?' + +'Non; das so, sure nuff. Ah!'--as if a light broke in upon him--'you go +in your own self. You make one leetle prayer. You say, "Le bon Fadder, +oh! I want come back, I so tire, so hongree, so sorree"? He, say, "Come +right 'long." Ah! das fuss-rate. Nelson, you make one leetle prayer for +Sandy and me.' + +And Nelson lifted up his face and said: 'Father, we're all gone far +away; we have spent all, we are poor, we are tired of it all; we want +to feel different, to be different; we want to come back. Jesus came to +save us from our sins; and he said if we came He wouldn't cast us +out, no matter how bad we were, if we only came to Him. Oh, Jesus +Christ'--and his old, iron face began to work, and two big tears slowly +came from under his eyelids--'we are a poor lot, and I'm the worst of +the lot, and we are trying to find the way. Show us how to get back. +Amen.' + +'Bon!' said Baptiste. 'Das fetch Him sure!' + +Graeme pulled me away, and without a word we went into the office and +drew up to the little stove. Graeme was greatly moved. + +'Did you ever see anything like that?' he asked. 'Old Nelson! the +hardest, savagest, toughest old sinner in the camp, on his knees before +a lot of men!' + +'Before God,' I could not help saying, for the thing seemed very real to +me. The old man evidently felt himself talking to some one. + +'Yes, I suppose you're right,' said Graeme doubtfully; 'but there's a +lot of stuff I can't swallow.' + +'When you take medicine you don't swallow the bottle,' I replied, for +his trouble was not mine. + +'If I were sure of the medicine, I wouldn't mind the bottle, and yet it +acts well enough,' he went on. 'I don't mind Lachlan; he's a Highland +mystic, and has visions, and Sandy's almost as bad, and Baptiste is an +impulsive little chap. Those don't count much. But old man Nelson is a +cool-blooded, level-headed old fellow; has seen a lot of life, too. +And then there's Craig. He has a better head than I have, and is as +hot-blooded, and yet he is living and slaving away in that hole, and +really enjoys it. There must be something in it.' + +'Oh, look here, Graeme,' I burst out impatiently; 'what's the use of +your talking like that? Of course there's something in it. I here's +everything in it. The trouble with me is I can't face the music. It +calls for a life where a fellow must go in for straight, steady work, +self-denial, and that sort of thing; and I'm too Bohemian for that, and +too lazy. But that fellow Craig makes one feel horribly uncomfortable.' + +Graeme put his head on one side, and examined me curiously. + +'I believe you're right about yourself. You always were a luxurious +beggar. But that's not where it catches me.' + +We sat and smoked and talked of other things for an hour, and then +turned in. As I was dropping off I was roused by Graeme's voice-- + +'Are you going to the preparatory service on Friday night?' + +'Don't know,' I replied rather sleepily. + +'I say, do you remember the preparatory service at home?' There was +something in his voice that set me wide awake. + +'Yes. Rather terrific, wasn't it? But I always felt better after it,' I +replied. + +'To me'--he was sitting up in bed now--'to me it was like a call to +arms, or rather like a call for a forlorn hope. None but volunteers +wanted. Do you remember the thrill in the old governor's voice as he +dared any but the right stuff to come on?' + +'We'll go in on Friday night,' I said. + +And so we did. Sandy took a load of men with his team, and Graeme and I +drove in the light sleigh. + +The meeting was in the church, and over a hundred men were present. +There was some singing of familiar hymns at first, and then Mr. Craig +read the same story as we had heard in the stable, that most perfect of +all parables, the Prodigal Son. Baptiste nudged Sandy in delight, +and whispered something, but Sandy held his face so absolutely +expressionless that Graeme was moved to say-- + +'Look at Sandy! Did you ever see such a graven image? Something has hit +him hard.' + +The men were held fast by the story. The voice of the reader, low, +earnest, and thrilling with the tender pathos of the tale, carried the +words to our hearts, while a glance, a gesture, a movement of the body +gave us the vision of it all as he was seeing it. + +Then, in simplest of words, he told us what the story meant, holding us +the while with eyes, and voice, and gesture. He compelled us scorn the +gay, heartless selfishness of the young fool setting forth so jauntily +from the broken home; he moved our pity and our sympathy for the +young profligate, who, broken and deserted, had still pluck enough to +determine to work his way back, and who, in utter desperation, at last +gave it up; and then he showed us the homecoming--the ragged, heart-sick +tramp, with hesitating steps, stumbling along the dusty road, and then +the rush of the old father, his garments fluttering, and his voice heard +in broken cries. I see and hear it all now, whenever the words are read. + +He announced the hymn, 'Just as I am,' read the first verse, and then +went on: 'There you are, men, every man of you, somewhere on the road. +Some of you are too lazy'--here Graeme nudged me--'and some of you +haven't got enough yet of the far country to come back. May there be a +chance for you when you want to come! Men, you all want to go back home, +and when you go you'll want to put on your soft clothes, and you won't +go till you can go in good style; but where did the prodigal get his +good clothes?' Quick came the answer in Baptiste's shrill voice-- + +'From de old fadder!' + +No one was surprised, and the minister went on-- + +'Yes! and that's where we must get the good, clean heart, the good, +clean, brave heart, from our Father. Don't wait, but, just as you are, +come. Sing.' + +They sang, not loud, as they would 'Stand Up,' or even 'The Sweet By and +By,' but in voices subdued, holding down the power in them. + +After the singing, Craig stood a moment gazing down at the men, and then +said quietly-- + +'Any man want to come? You all might come. We all must come.' Then, +sweeping his arm over the audience, and turning half round as if to move +off, he cried, in a voice that thrilled to the heart's core-- + +'Oh! come on! Let's go back!' + +The effect was overpowering. It seemed to me that the whole company +half rose to their feet. Of the prayer that immediately followed, I +only caught the opening sentence, 'Father, we are coming back,' for +my attention was suddenly absorbed by Abe, the stage-driver, who was +sitting next me. I could hear him swearing approval and admiration, +saying to himself-- + +'Ain't he a clinker! I'll be gee-whizzly-gol-dusted if he ain't a +malleable-iron-double-back-action self-adjusting corn-cracker.' And +the prayer continued to be punctuated with like admiring and even +more sulphurous expletives. It was an incongruous medley. The earnest, +reverent prayer, and the earnest, admiring profanity, rendered chaotic +one's ideas of religious propriety. The feelings in both were akin; the +method of expression somewhat widely diverse. + +After prayer, Craig's tone changed utterly. In a quiet, matter-of-fact, +businesslike way he stated his plan of organisation, and called for all +who wished to join to remain after the benediction. Some fifty men were +left, among them Nelson, Sandy, Lachlan Campbell, Baptiste, Shaw, Nixon, +Geordie, and Billy Breen, who tried to get out, but was held fast by +Geordie. + +Graeme was passing out, but I signed him to remain, saying that I wished +'to see the thing out.' Abe sat still beside me, swearing disgustedly at +the fellows 'who were going back on the preacher.' Craig appeared amazed +at the number of men remaining, and seemed to fear that something was +wrong. He put before them the terms of discipleship, as the Master put +them to the eager scribe, and he did not make them easy. He pictured the +kind of work to be done, and the kind of men needed for the doing of it. +Abe grew uneasy as the minister went on to describe the completeness of +the surrender, the intensity of the loyalty demanded. + +'That knocks me out, I reckon,' he muttered, in a disappointed tone; 'I +ain't up to that grade.' And as Craig described the heroism called for, +the magnificence of the fight, the worth of it, and the outcome of it +all, Abe ground out: I'll be blanked if I wouldn't like to take a hand, +but I guess I'm not in it.' Craig finished by saying-- + +'I want to put this quite fairly. It is not any league of mine; you're +not joining my company; it is no easy business, and it is for your whole +life. What do you say? Do I put it fairly? What do you say, Nelson?' + +Nelson rose slowly, and with difficulty began-- + +'I may be all wrong, but you made it easier for me, Mr. Craig. You said +He would see me through, or I should never have risked it. Perhaps I am +wrong,' and the old man looked troubled. Craig sprang up. + +'No! no! Thank God, no! He will see every man through who will trust +his life to Him. Every man, no matter how tough he is, no matter how +broken.' + +Then Nelson straightened himself up and said-- + +'Well, sir! I believe a lot of the men would go in for this if they were +dead sure they would get through.' + +'Get through!' said Craig; 'never a fear of it. It is a hard fight, a +long fight, a glorious fight,' throwing up his head, but every man +who squarely trusts Him, and takes Him as Lord and Master, comes out +victor!' + +'Bon!' said Baptiste 'Das me. You tink He's take me in dat fight, M'sieu +Craig, heh?' His eyes were blazing. + +'You mean it?' asked Craig almost sternly. + +'Yes! by gar!' said the little Frenchman eagerly. + +'Hear what He says, then'; and Craig, turning over the leaves of his +Testament, read solemnly the words, 'Swear not at all.' + +'Non! For sure! Den I stop him,' replied Baptiste earnestly; and Craig +wrote his name down. + +Poor Abe looked amazed and distressed, rose slowly, and saying, 'That +jars my whisky jug,' passed out. There was a slight movement near the +organ, and glancing up I saw Mrs. Mavor put her face hastily in her +hands. The men's faces were anxious and troubled, and Nelson said in a +voice that broke-- + +'Tell them what you told me, sir.' But Craig was troubled too, and +replied, 'You tell them, Nelson!' and Nelson told the men the story of +how he began just five weeks ago. The old man's voice steadied as he +went on, and he grew eager as he told how he had been helped, and how +the world was all different, and his heart seemed new. He spoke of his +Friend as if He were some one that could be seen out at camp, that he +knew well, and met every day. + +But as he tried to say how deeply he regretted that he had not known all +this years before, the old, hard face began to quiver, and the steady +voice wavered. Then he pulled himself together, and said-- + +'I begin to feel sure He'll pull me through--me! the hardest man in the +mountains! So don't you fear, boys. He's all right.' + +Then the men gave in their names, one by one. When it came to Geordie's +turn, he gave his name-- + +'George Crawford, frae the pairish o' Kilsyth, Scotland, an' ye'll juist +pit doon the lad's name, Maister Craig; he's a wee bit fashed wi' the +discoorse, but he has the root o' the maitter in him, I doot.' And so +Billy Breen's name went down. + +When the meeting was over, thirty-eight names stood upon the communion +roll of the Black Rock Presbyterian Church; and it will ever be one of +the regrets of my life that neither Graeme's name nor my own appeared +on that roll. And two days after, when the cup went round on that first +Communion Sabbath, from Nelson to Sandy, and from Sandy to Baptiste, and +so on down the line to Billy Breen and Mrs. Mavor, and then to Abe, the +driver, whom she had by her own mystic power lifted into hope and faith, +I felt all the shame and pain of a traitor; and I believe, in my heart +that the fire of that pain and shame burned something of the selfish +cowardice out of me, and that it is burning still. + +The last words of the minister, in the short address after the table +had been served, were low, and sweet, and tender, but they were words of +high courage; and before he had spoken them all, the men were listening +with shining eyes, and when they rose to sing the closing hymn they +stood straight and stiff like soldiers on parade. + +And I wished more than ever I were one of them. + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE BREAKING OF THE LEAGUE + + +There is no doubt in my mind that nature designed me for a great +painter. A railway director interfered with that design of nature, as he +has with many another of hers, and by the transmission of an order for +mountain pieces by the dozen, together with a cheque so large that I +feared there was some mistake, he determined me to be an illustrator and +designer for railway and like publications. I do not like these people +ordering 'by the dozen.' Why should they not consider an artist's finer +feelings? Perhaps they cannot understand them; but they understand my +pictures, and I understand their cheques, and there we are quits. But +so it came that I remained in Black Rock long enough to witness the +breaking of the League. + +Looking back upon the events of that night from the midst of gentle and +decent surroundings, they now seem strangely unreal, but to me then they +appeared only natural. + +It was the Good Friday ball that wrecked the League. For the fact that +the promoters of the ball determined that it should be a ball rather +than a dance was taken by the League men as a concession to the new +public opinion in favour of respectability created by the League. And +when the manager's patronage had been secured (they failed to get Mrs. +Mavor's), and it was further announced that, though held in the Black +Rock Hotel ballroom--indeed, there was no other place--refreshments +suited to the peculiar tastes of League men would be provided, it was +felt to be almost a necessity that the League should approve, should +indeed welcome, this concession to the public opinion in favour of +respectability created by the League. + +There were extreme men on both sides, of course. 'Idaho' Jack, +professional gambler, for instance, frankly considered that the whole +town was going to unmentionable depths of propriety. The organisation of +the League was regarded by him, and by many others, as a sad retrograde +towards the bondage of the ancient and dying East; and that he could not +get drunk when and where he pleased, 'Idaho,' as he was called, regarded +as a personal grievance. + +But Idaho was never enamoured of the social ways of Black Rock. He was +shocked and disgusted when he discovered that a 'gun' was decreed by +British law to be an unnecessary adornment of a card-table. The manner +of his discovery must have been interesting to behold. + +It is said that Idaho was industriously pursuing his avocation in +Slavin's, with his 'gun' lying upon the card-table convenient to +his hand, when in walked policeman Jackson, her Majesty's sole +representative in the Black Rock district. Jackson, 'Stonewall' Jackson, +or 'Stonewall,' as he was called for obvious reasons, after watching the +game for a few moments, gently tapped the pistol and asked what he used +this for. + +'I'll show you in two holy minutes if you don't light out,' said Idaho, +hardly looking up, but very angrily, for the luck was against him. But +Jackson tapped upon the table and said sweetly-- + +'You're a stranger here. You ought to get a guide-book and post +yourself. Now, the boys know I don't interfere with an innocent little +game, but there is a regulation against playing it with guns; so,' +he added even more sweetly, but fastening Idaho with a look from +his steel-grey eyes, 'I'll just take charge of this,' picking up the +revolver; 'it might go off.' + +Idaho's rage, great as it was, was quite swallowed up in his amazed +disgust at the state of society that would permit such an outrage upon +personal liberty. He was quite unable to play any more that evening, and +it took several drinks all round to restore him to articulate speech. +The rest of the night was spent in retailing for his instruction stories +of the ways of Stonewall Jackson. + +Idaho bought a new 'gun,' but he wore it 'in his clothes,' and used it +chiefly in the pastime of shooting out the lights or in picking off +the heels from the boys' boots while a stag dance was in progress in +Slavin's. But in Stonewall's presence Idaho was a most correct citizen. +Stonewall he could understand and appreciate. He was six feet three, +and had an eye of unpleasant penetration. But this new feeling in the +community for respectability he could neither understand nor endure. The +League became the object of his indignant aversion, and the League +men of his contempt. He had many sympathisers, and frequent were the +assaults upon the newly-born sobriety of Billy Breen and others of the +League. But Geordie's watchful care and Mrs. Mavor's steady influence, +together with the loyal co-operation of the League men, kept Billy safe +so far. Nixon, too, was a marked man. It may be that he carried himself +with unnecessary jauntiness toward Slavin and Idaho, saluting the former +with, 'Awful dry weather! eh, Slavin?' and the latter with, 'Hello, old +sport! how's times?' causing them to swear deeply; and, as it turned +out, to do more than swear. + +But on the whole the anti-League men were in favour of a respectable +ball, and most of the League men determined to show their appreciation +of the concession of the committee to the principles of the League in +the important matter of refreshments by attending in force. + +Nixon would not go. However jauntily he might talk, he could not trust +himself, as he said, where whisky was flowing, for it got into his nose +'like a fish-hook into a salmon.' He was from Nova Scotia. For like +reason, Vernon Winton, the young Oxford fellow, would not go. When they +chaffed, his lips grew a little thinner, and the colour deepened in +his handsome face, but he went on his way. Geordie despised the 'hale +hypothick' as a 'daft ploy,' and the spending of five dollars upon a +ticket he considered a 'sinfu' waste o' guid siller'; and he warned +Billy against 'coontenancin' ony sic redeeklus nonsense.' + +But no one expected Billy to go; although the last two months he had +done wonders for his personal appearance, and for his position in the +social scale as well. They all knew what a fight he was making, and +esteemed him accordingly. How well I remember the pleased pride in his +face when he told me in the afternoon of the committee's urgent request +that he should join the orchestra with his 'cello! It was not +simply that his 'cello was his joy and pride, but he felt it to be a +recognition of his return to respectability. + +I have often wondered how things combine at times to a man's +destruction. + +Had Mr. Craig not been away at the Landing that week, had Geordie not +been on the night-shift, had Mrs. Mavor not been so occupied with the +care of her sick child, it may be Billy might have been saved his fall. + +The anticipation of the ball stirred Black Rock and the camps with a +thrill of expectant delight. Nowadays, when I find myself forced to +leave my quiet smoke in my studio after dinner at the call of some +social engagement which I have failed to elude, I groan at my hard lot, +and I wonder as I look back and remember the pleasurable anticipation +with which I viewed the approaching ball. But I do not wonder now any +more than I did then at the eager delight of the men who for seven days +in the week swung their picks up in the dark breasts of the mines, or +who chopped and sawed among the solitary silences of the great forests. +Any break in the long and weary monotony was welcome; what mattered +the cost or consequence! To the rudest and least cultured of them the +sameness of the life must have been hard to bear; but what it was to men +who had seen life in its most cultured and attractive forms I fail to +imagine. From the mine, black and foul, to the shack, bare, cheerless, +and sometimes hideously repulsive, life swung in heart-grinding monotony +till the longing for a 'big drink' or some other 'big break' became too +great to bear. + +It was well on towards evening when Sandy's four horse team, with a +load of men from the woods, came swinging round the curves of the +mountain-road and down the street. A gay crowd they were with their +bright, brown faces and hearty voices; and in ten minutes the whole +street seemed alive with lumbermen--they had a faculty of spreading +themselves so. After night fell the miners came down 'done up slick,' +for this was a great occasion, and they must be up to it. The manager +appeared in evening dress; but this was voted 'too giddy' by the +majority. + +As Graeme and I passed up to the Black Rock Hotel, in the large +store-room of which the ball was to be held, we met old man Nelson +looking very grave. + +'Going, Nelson, aren't you?' I said. + +'Yes,' he answered slowly; 'I'll drop in, though I don't like the look +of things much.' + +'What's the matter, Nelson?' asked Graeme cheerily. 'There's no funeral +on.' + +'Perhaps not,' replied Nelson, 'but I wish Mr. Craig were home.' And +then he added, 'There's Idaho and Slavin together, and you may bet the +devil isn't far off.' + +But Graeme laughed at his suspicion, and we passed on. The orchestra was +tuning up. There were two violins, a concertina, and the 'cello. Billy +Breen was lovingly fingering his instrument, now and then indulging +himself in a little snatch of some air that came to him out of his +happier past. He looked perfectly delighted, and as I paused to listen +he gave me a proud glance out of his deep, little, blue eyes, and went +on playing softly to himself. Presently Shaw came along. + +'That's good, Billy,' he called out. 'You've got the trick yet, I see.' + +But Billy only nodded and went on playing. + +'Where's Nixon?' I asked. + +'Gone to bed,' said Shaw, 'and I am glad of it. He finds that the safest +place on pay-day afternoon. The boys don't bother him there.' + +The dancing-room was lined on two sides with beer-barrels and +whisky-kegs; at one end the orchestra sat, at the other was a table with +refreshments, where the 'soft drinks' might be had. Those who wanted +anything else might pass through a short passage into the bar just +behind. + +This was evidently a superior kind of ball, for the men kept on their +coats, and went through the various figures with faces of unnatural +solemnity. But the strain upon their feelings was quite apparent, and it +became a question how long it could be maintained. As the trips through +the passage-way became more frequent the dancing grew in vigour and +hilarity, until by the time supper was announced the stiffness had +sufficiently vanished to give no further anxiety to the committee. + +But the committee had other cause for concern, inasmuch as after supper +certain of the miners appeared with their coats off, and proceeded to +'knock the knots out of the floor' in break-down dances of extraordinary +energy. These, however, were beguiled into the bar-room and 'filled up' +for safety, for the committee were determined that the respectability of +the ball should be preserved to the end. Their reputation was at stake, +not in Black Rock only, but at the Landing as well, from which most of +the ladies had come; and to be shamed in the presence of the Landing +people could not be borne. Their difficulties seemed to be increasing, +for at this point something seemed to go wrong with the orchestra. +The 'cello appeared to be wandering aimlessly up and down the scale, +occasionally picking up the tune with animation, and then dropping it. +As Billy saw me approaching, he drew himself up with great solemnity, +gravely winked at me, and said-- + +'Shlipped a cog, Mishter Connor! Mosh hunfortunate! Beauchiful +hinstrument, but shlips a cog. Mosh hunfortunate!' + +And he wagged his little head sagely, playing all the while for dear +life, now second and now lead. + +Poor Billy! I pitied him, but I thought chiefly of the beautiful, eager +face that leaned towards him the night the League was made, and of the +bright voice that said, 'You'll sign with me, Billy?' and it seemed to +me a cruel deed to make him lose his grip of life and hope; for this is +what the pledge meant to him. + +While I was trying to get Billy away to some safe place, I heard a +great shouting in the direction of the bar, followed by trampling and +scuffling of feet in the passage-way. Suddenly a man burst through, +crying-- + +'Let me go! Stand back! I know what I'm about!' + +It was Nixon, dressed in his best; black clothes, blue shirt, red tie, +looking handsome enough, but half-drunk and wildly excited. The highland +Fling competition was on at the moment, and Angus Campbell, Lachlan's +brother, was representing the lumber camps in the contest. Nixon looked +on approvingly for a few moments, then with a quick movement he seized +the little Highlander, swung him in his powerful arms clean off the +floor, and deposited him gently upon a beer-barrel. Then he stepped +into the centre of the room, bowed to the judges, and began a sailor's +hornpipe. + +The committee were perplexed, but after deliberation they decided to +humour the new competitor, especially as they knew that Nixon with +whisky in him was unpleasant to cross. + +Lightly and gracefully he went through his steps, the men crowding in +from the bar to admire, for Nixon was famed for his hornpipe. But when, +after the hornpipe, he proceeded to execute a clog-dance, garnished with +acrobatic feats, the committee interfered. There were cries of 'Put him +out!' and 'Let him alone! Go on, Nixon!' And Nixon hurled back into the +crowd two of the committee who had laid remonstrating hands upon him, +and, standing in the open centre, cried out scornfully-- + +'Put me out! Put me out! Certainly! Help yourselves! Don't mind me!' +Then grinding his teeth, so that I heard them across the room, he added +with savage deliberation, 'If any man lays a finger on me, I'll--I'll +eat his liver cold.' + +He stood for a few moments glaring round upon the company, and then +strode toward the bar, followed by the crowd wildly yelling. The ball +was forthwith broken up. I looked around for Billy, but he was nowhere +to be seen. Graeme touched my arm-- + +'There's going to be something of a time, so just keep your eyes +skinned.' + +'What are you going to do?' I asked. + +'Do? Keep myself beautifully out of trouble,' he replied. + +In a few moments the crowd came surging back headed by Nixon, who was +waving a whisky-bottle over his head and yelling as one possessed. + +'Hello!' exclaimed Graeme softly, 'I begin to see. Look there!' + +'What's up?' I asked. + +'You see Idaho and Slavin and their pets,' he replied. + +'They've got poor Nixon in tow. Idaho is rather nasty,' he added, 'but +I think I'll take a hand in this game; I've seen some of Idaho's work +before.' + +The scene was one quite strange to me, and was wild beyond description. +A hundred men filled the room. Bottles were passed from hand to hand, +and men drank their fill. Behind the refreshment-tables stood the +hotelman and his barkeeper with their coats off and sleeves rolled up to +the shoulder, passing out bottles, and drawing beer and whisky from two +kegs hoisted up for that purpose. Nixon was in his glory. It was +his night. Every man was to get drunk at his expense, he proclaimed, +flinging down bills upon the table. Near him were some League men he +was treating liberally, and never far away were Idaho and Slavin passing +bottles, but evidently drinking little. + +I followed Graeme, not feeling too comfortable, for this sort of thing +was new to me, but admiring the cool assurance with which he made his +way through the crowd that swayed and yelled and swore and laughed in a +most disconcerting manner. + +'Hello!' shouted Nixon as he caught sight of Graeme. 'Here you are!' +passing him a bottle. 'You're a knocker, a double-handed front door +knocker. You polished off old whisky-soak here, old demijohn,' pointing +to Slavin, 'and I'll lay five to one we can lick any blankety blank +thieves in the crowd,' and he held up a roll of bills. + +But Graeme proposed that he should give the hornpipe again, and the +floor was cleared at once, for Nixon's hornpipe was very popular, and +tonight, of course, was in high favour. In the midst of his dance Nixon +stopped short, his arms dropped to his side, his face had a look of +fear, of horror. + +There, before him, in his riding-cloak and boots, with his whip in his +hand as he had come from his ride, stood Mr. Craig. His face was pallid, +and his dark eyes were blazing with fierce light. As Nixon stopped, +Craig stepped forward to him, and sweeping his eyes round upon the +circle he said in tones intense with scorn-- + +'You cowards! You get a man where he's weak! Cowards! you'd damn his +soul for his money!' + +There was dead silence, and Craig, lifting his hat, said solemnly-- + +'May God forgive you this night's work!' + +Then, turning to Nixon, and throwing his arm over his shoulder, he said +in a voice broken and husky-- + +'Come on, Nixon! we'll go!' + +Idaho made a motion as if to stop him, but Graeme stepped quickly +foreword and said sharply, 'Make way there, can't you?' and the crowd +fell back and we four passed through, Nixon walking as in a dream, with +Craig's arm about him. Down the street we went in silence, and on to +Craig's shack, where we found old man Nelson, with the fire blazing, and +strong coffee steaming on the stove. It was he that had told Craig, on +his arrival from the Landing, of Nixon's fall. + +There was nothing of reproach, but only gentlest pity, in tone and touch +as Craig placed the half-drunk, dazed man in his easy-chair, took off +his boots, brought him his own slippers, and gave him coffee. Then, as +his stupor began to overcome him, Craig put him in his own bed, and came +forth with a face written over with grief. + +'Don't mind, old chap,' said Graeme kindly. + +But Craig looked at him without a word, and, throwing himself into a +chair, put his face in his hands. As we sat there in silence the door +was suddenly pushed open and in walked Abe Baker with the words, 'Where +is Nixon?' and we told him where he was. We were still talking when +again a tap came to the door, and Shaw came in looking much disturbed. + +'Did you hear about Nixon?' he asked. We told him what we knew. + +'But did you hear how they got him?' he asked, excitedly. + +As he told us the tale, the men stood listening, with faces growing +hard. + +It appeared that after the making of the League the Black Rock Hotel man +had bet Idaho one hundred to fifty that Nixon could not be got to drink +before Easter. All Idaho's schemes had failed, and now he had only three +days in which to win his money, and the ball was his last chance. Here +again he was balked, for Nixon, resisting all entreaties, barred his +shack door and went to bed before nightfall, according to his invariable +custom on pay-days. At midnight some of Idaho's men came battering at +the door for admission, which Nixon reluctantly granted. For half an +hour they used every art of persuasion to induce him to go down to the +ball, the glorious success of which was glowingly depicted; but Nixon +remained immovable, and they took their departure, baffled and cursing. +In two hours they returned drunk enough to be dangerous, kicked at the +door in vain, finally gained entrance through the window, hauled Nixon +out of bed, and, holding a glass of whisky to his lips, bade him drink. +But he knocked the glass sway, spilling the liquor over himself and the +bed. + +It was drink or fight, and Nixon was ready to fight; but after parley +they had a drink all round, and fell to persuasion again. The night was +cold, and poor Nixon sat shivering on the edge of his bed. If he would +take one drink they would leave him alone. He need not show himself so +stiff. The whisky fumes filled his nostrils. If one drink would get +them off, surely that was better than fighting and killing some one or +getting killed. He hesitated, yielded, drank his glass. They sat about +him amiably drinking, and lauding him as a fine fellow after all. One +more glass before they left. Then Nixon rose, dressed himself, drank all +that was left of the bottle, put his money in his pocket, and came down +to the dance, wild with his old-time madness, reckless of faith and +pledge, forgetful of home, wife, babies, his whole being absorbed in one +great passion--to drink and drink and drink till he could drink no more. + +Before Shaw had finished his tale, Craig's eyes were streaming with +tears, and groans of rage and pity broke alternately from him. Abe +remained speechless for a time, not trusting himself; but as he heard +Craig groan, 'Oh, the beasts! the fiends!' he seemed encouraged to +let himself loose, and he began swearing with the coolest and most +blood-curdling deliberation. Craig listened with evident approval, +apparently finding complete satisfaction in Abe's performance, when +suddenly he seemed to waken up, caught Abe by the arm, and said in a +horror-stricken voice-- + +'Stop! stop! God forgive us! we must not swear like this.' + +Abe stopped at once, and in a surprised and slightly grieved voice +said-- + +'Why! what's the matter with that? Ain't that what you wanted?' + +'Yes! yes! God forgive me! I am afraid it was,' he answered hurriedly; +'but I must not.' + +'Oh, don't you worry,' went on Abe cheerfully; 'I'll look after that +part; and anyway, ain't they the blankest blankety blank'--going off +again into a roll of curses, till Craig, in an agony of entreaty, +succeeded in arresting the flow of profanity possible to no one but a +mountain stage-driver. Abe paused looking hurt, and asked if they did +not deserve everything he was calling down upon them. + +'Yes, yes,' urged Craig; 'but that is not our business.' + +'Well! so I reckoned,' replied Abe, recognising the limitations of the +cloth; 'you ain't used to it, and you can't be expected to do it; but it +just makes me feel good--let out o' school like--to properly do 'em up, +the blank, blank,' and off he went again. It was only under the pressure +of Mr. Craig's prayers and commands that he finally agreed 'to hold in, +though it was tough.' + +'What's to be done?' asked Shaw. + +'Nothing,' answered Craig bitterly. He was exhausted with his long ride +from the Landing, and broken with bitter disappointment over the ruin of +all that he had laboured so long to accomplish. + +'Nonsense,' said Graeme; 'there's a good deal to do.' + +It was agreed that Craig should remain with Nixon while the others of us +should gather up what fragments we could find of the broken League. We +had just opened the door, when we met a man striding up at a great pace. +It was Geordie Crawford. + +'Hae ye seen the lad?' was his salutation. No one replied. So I told +Geordie of my last sight of Billy in the orchestra. + +'An' did ye no' gang aifter him?' he asked in indignant surprise, adding +with some contempt, 'Man! but ye're a feckless buddie.' + +'Billy gone too!' said Shaw. 'They might have let Billy alone.' + +Poor Craig stood in a dumb agony. Billy's fall seemed more than he +could bear. We went out, leaving him heart-broken amid the ruins of his +League. + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE LEAGUE'S REVENGE + + +As we stood outside of Craig's shack in the dim starlight, we could not +hide from ourselves that we were beaten. It was not so much grief as +a blind fury that filled my heart, and looking at the faces of the men +about me I read the same feeling there. But what could we do? The yells +of carousing miners down at Slavin's told us that nothing could be done +with them that night. To be so utterly beaten, and unfairly, and with no +chance of revenge, was maddening. + +'I'd like to get back at 'em,' said Abe, carefully repressing himself. + +'I've got it, men,' said Graeme suddenly. 'This town does not require +all the whisky there is in it'; and he unfolded his plan. It was to gain +possession of Slavin's saloon and the bar of the Black Rock Hotel, and +clear out all the liquor to be found in both these places. I did not +much like the idea; and Geordie said, 'I'm ga'en aifter the lad; I'll +hae naethin' tae dae wi' yon. It's' no' that easy, an' it's a sinfu' +waste.' + +But Abe was wild to try it, and Shaw was quite willing, while old Nelson +sternly approved. + +'Nelson, you and Shaw get a couple of our men and attend to the saloon. +Slavin and the whole gang are up at the Black Rock, so you won't have +much trouble; but come to us as soon as you can.' + +And so we went our ways. + +Then followed a scene the like of which I can never hope to see again, +and it was worth a man's seeing. But there were times that night when I +wished I had not agreed to follow Graeme in his plot. As we went up to +the hotel, I asked Graeme, 'What about the law of this?' + +'Law!' he replied indignantly. 'They haven't troubled much about law in +the whisky business here. They get a keg of high wines and some drugs +and begin operations. No!' he went on; 'if we can get the crowd out, and +ourselves in, we'll make them break the law in getting us out. The law +won't trouble us over smuggled whisky. It will be a great lark, and they +won't crow too loud over the League.' + +I did not like the undertaking at first; but as I thought of the whole +wretched illegal business flourishing upon the weakness of the men +in the mines and camps, whom I had learned to regard as brothers, and +especially as I thought of the cowards that did for Nixon, I let my +scruples go, and determined, with Abe, 'to get back at 'em.' + +We had no difficulty getting them out. Abe began to yell. Some men +rushed out to learn the cause. He seized the foremost man, making a +hideous uproar all the while, and in three minutes had every man out of +the hotel and a lively row going on. + +In two minutes more Graeme and I had the door to the ball-room locked +and barricaded with empty casks. We then closed the door of the bar-room +leading to the outside. The bar-room was a strongly built log-shack, +with a heavy door secured, after the manner of the early cabins, with +two strong oak bars, so that we felt safe from attack from that quarter. + +The ball-room we could not hold long, for the door was slight and +entrance was possible through the windows. But as only a few casks of +liquor were left there, our main work would be in the bar, so that the +fight would be to hold the passage-way. This we barricaded with casks +and tables. But by this time the crowd had begun to realise what had +happened, and were wildly yelling at door and windows. With an axe which +Graeme had brought with him the casks were soon stove in, and left to +empty themselves. + +As I was about to empty the last cask, Graeme stopped me, saying, 'Let +that stand here. It will help us.' And so it did. 'Now skip for the +barricade,' yelled Graeme, as a man came crashing through the window. +Before he could regain his feet, however, Graeme had seized him and +flung him out upon the heads of the crowd outside. But through the +other windows men were coming in, and Graeme rushed for the barricade, +followed by two of the enemy, the foremost of whom I received at the top +and hurled back upon the others. + +'Now, be quick!' said Graeme; 'I'll hold this. Don't break any bottles +on the floor--throw them out there,' pointing to a little window high up +in the wall. + +I made all haste. The casks did not take much time, and soon the whisky +and beer were flowing over the floor. It made me think of Geordie's +regret over the 'sinfu' waste.' The bottles took longer, and glancing up +now and then I saw that Graeme was being hard pressed. Men would leap, +two and three at a time, upon the barricade, and Graeme's arms would +shoot out, and over they would topple upon the heads of those nearest. +It was a great sight to see him standing alone with a smile on his face +and the light of battle in his eye, coolly meeting his assailants with +those terrific, lightning-like blows. In fifteen minutes my work was +done. + +'What next?' I asked. 'How do we get out?' + +'How is the door?' he replied. + +I looked through the port-hole and said, 'A crowd of men waiting.' + +'We'll have to make a dash for it, I fancy,' he replied cheerfully, +though his face was covered with blood and his breath was coming in +short gasps. + +'Get down the bars and be ready.' But even as he spoke a chair hurled +from below caught him on the arm, and before he could recover, a man had +cleared the barricade and was upon him like a tiger. It was Idaho Jack. + +'Hold the barricade,' Graeme called out, as they both went down. + +I sprang to his place, but I had not much hope of holding it long. I had +the heavy oak bar of the door in my hands, and swinging it round my head +I made the crowd give back for a few moments. + +Meantime Graeme had shaken off his enemy, who was circling about him +upon his tip-toes, with a long knife in his hand, waiting for a chance +to spring. + +'I have been waiting for this for some time, Mr. Graeme,' he said +smiling. + +'Yes,' replied Graeme, 'ever since I spoiled your cut-throat game in +'Frisco. How is the little one?' he added sarcastically. + +Idaho's face lost its smile and became distorted with fury as he +replied, spitting out his words, 'She--is--where you will be before I am +done with you.' + +'Ah! you murdered her too! You'll hang some beautiful day, Idaho,' said +Graeme, as Idaho sprang upon him. + +Graeme dodged his blow and caught his forearm with his left hand and +held up high the murderous knife. Back and forward they swayed over the +floor, slippery with whisky, the knife held high in the air. I wondered +why Graeme did not strike, and then I saw his right hand hung limp from +the wrist. The men were crowding upon the barricade. I was in despair. +Graeme's strength was going fast. With a yell of exultant fury Idaho +threw himself with all his weight upon Graeme, who could only cling to +him. They swayed together towards me, but as they fell I brought down +my bar upon the upraised hand and sent the knife flying across the room. +Idaho's howl of rage and pain was mingled with a shout from below, and +there, dashing the crowd right and left, came old Nelson, followed by +Abe, Sandy, Baptiste, Shaw, and others. As they reached the barricade it +crashed down and, carrying me with it, pinned me fast. + +Looking out between the barrels, I saw what froze my heart with horror. +In the fall Graeme had wound his arms about his enemy and held him in +a grip so deadly that he could not strike; but Graeme's strength was +failing, and when I looked I saw that Idaho was slowly dragging both +across the slippery floor to where the knife lay. Nearer and nearer his +outstretched fingers came to the knife. In vain I yelled and struggled. +My voice was lost in the awful din, and the barricade held me fast. +Above me, standing on a barrel-head, was Baptiste, yelling like a demon. +In vain I called to him. My fingers could just reach his foot, and +he heeded not at all my touch. Slowly Idaho was dragging his almost +unconscious victim toward the knife. His fingers were touching the +blade point, when, under a sudden inspiration, I pulled out my penknife, +opened it with my teeth, and drove the blade into Baptiste's foot. With +a blood-curdling yell he sprang down and began dancing round in his +rage, peering among the barrels. + +'Look! look!' I was calling in agony, and pointing; 'for heaven's sake, +look! Baptiste!' + +The fingers had closed upon the knife, the knife was already high in +the air, when, with a shriek, Baptiste cleared the room at a bound, and, +before the knife could fall, the little Frenchman's boot had caught the +uplifted wrist, and sent the knife flying to the wall. + +Then there was a great rushing sound as of wind through the forest, and +the lights went out. When I awoke, I found myself lying with my head on +Graeme's knees, and Baptiste sprinkling snow on my face. As I looked up +Graeme leaned over me, and, smiling down into my eyes, he said-- + +'Good boy! It was a great fight, and we put it up well'; and then he +whispered, 'I owe you my life, my boy.' + +His words thrilled my heart through and through, for I loved him as only +men can love men; but I only answered-- + +'I could not keep them back.' + +'It was well done,' he said; and I felt proud. I confess I was thankful +to be so well out of it, for Graeme got off with a bone in his wrist +broken, and I with a couple of ribs cracked; but had it not been for the +open barrel of whisky which kept them occupied for a time, offering too +good a chance to be lost, and for the timely arrival of Nelson, neither +of us had ever seen the light again. + +We found Craig sound asleep upon his couch. His consternation on waking +to see us torn, bruised, and bloody was laughable; but he hastened to +find us warm water and bandages, and we soon felt comfortable. + +Baptiste was radiant with pride and light over the fight, and hovered +about Graeme and me giving vent to his feelings in admiring French and +English expletives. But Abe was disgusted because of the failure at +Slavin's; for when Nelson looked in, he saw Slavin's French-Canadian +wife in charge, with her baby on her lap, and he came back to Shaw and +said, 'Come away, we can't touch this'; and Shaw, after looking in, +agreed that nothing could be done. A baby held the fort. + +As Craig listened to the account of the fight, he tried hard not to +approve, but he could not keep the gleam out of his eyes; and as I +pictured Graeme dashing back the crowd thronging the barricade till he +was brought down by the chair, Craig laughed gently, and put his hand +on Graeme's knee. And as I went on to describe my agony while Idaho's +fingers were gradually nearing the knife, his face grew pale and his +eyes grew wide with horror. + +'Baptiste here did the business,' I said, and the little Frenchman +nodded complacently and said-- + +'Dat's me for sure.' + +'By the way, how is your foot?' asked Graeme. + +'He's fuss-rate. Dat's what you call--one bite of--of--dat leel bees, +he's dere, you put your finger dere, he's not dere!--what you call him?' + +'Flea!' I suggested. + +'Oui!' cried Baptiste. 'Dat's one bite of flea.' + +'I was thankful I was under the barrels,' I replied, smiling. + +'Oui! Dat's mak' me ver mad. I jump an' swear mos' awful bad. Dat's +pardon me, M'sieu Craig, heh?' + +But Craig only smiled at him rather sadly. 'It was awfully risky,' he +said to Graeme, 'and it was hardly worth it. They'll get more whisky, +and anyway the League is gone.' + +'Well,' said Graeme with a sigh of satisfaction, 'it is not quite such a +one-sided affair as it was.' + +And we could say nothing in reply, for we could hear Nixon snoring in +the next room, and no one had heard of Billy, and there were others of +the League that we knew were even now down at Slavin's. It was thought +best that all should remain in Mr. Craig's shack, not knowing what might +happen; and so we lay where we could and we needed none to sing us to +sleep. + +When I awoke, stiff and sore, it was to find breakfast ready and old man +Nelson in charge. As we were seated, Craig came in, and I saw that he +was not the man of the night before. His courage had come back, his face +was quiet and his eye clear; he was his own man again. + +'Geordie has been out all night, but has failed to find Billy,' he +announced quietly. + +We did not talk much; Graeme and I worried with our broken bones, +and the others suffered from a general morning depression. But, after +breakfast, as the men were beginning to move, Craig took down his Bible, +and saying-- + +'Wait a few minutes, men!' he read slowly, in his beautiful clear voice, +that psalm for all fighters-- + + 'God is our refuge and strength,' + +and soon to the noble words-- + + 'The Lord of Hosts is with us; + The God of Jacob is our refuge.' + +How the mighty words pulled us together, lifted us till we grew ashamed +of our ignoble rage and of our ignoble depression! + +And then Craig prayed in simple, straight-going words. There was +acknowledgement of failure, but I knew he was thinking chiefly of +himself; and there was gratitude, and that was for the men about him, +and I felt my face burn with shame; and there was petition for help, +and we all thought of Nixon, and Billy, and the men wakening from their +debauch at Slavin's this pure, bright morning. And then he asked that we +might be made faithful and worthy of God, whose battle it was. Then we +all stood up and shook hands with him in silence, and every man knew a +covenant was being made. But none saw his meeting with Nixon. He sent us +all away before that. + +Nothing was heard of the destruction of the hotel stock-in-trade. +Unpleasant questions would certainly be asked, and the proprietor +decided to let bad alone. On the point of respectability the success of +the ball was not conspicuous, but the anti-League men were content, if +not jubilant. + +Billy Breen was found by Geordie late in the afternoon in his own +old and deserted shack, breathing heavily, covered up in his filthy, +mouldering bed-clothes, with a half-empty bottle of whisky at his side. +Geordie's grief and rage were beyond even his Scotch control. He spoke +few words, but these were of such concentrated vehemence that no one +felt the need of Abe's assistance in vocabulary. + +Poor Billy! We carried him to Mrs. Mavor's home; put him in a warm bath, +rolled him in blankets, and gave him little sips of hot water, then of +hot milk and coffee; as I had seen a clever doctor in the hospital treat +a similar case of nerve and heart depression. But the already weakened +system could not recover from the awful shock of the exposure following +the debauch; and on Sunday afternoon we saw that his heart was failing +fast. All day the miners had been dropping in to inquire after him, for +Billy had been a great favourite in other days, and the attention of the +town had been admiringly centred upon his fight of these last weeks. It +was with no ordinary sorrow that the news of his condition was received. +As Mrs. Mavor sang to him, his large coarse hands moved in time to the +music, but he did not open his eyes till he heard Mr. Craig's voice in +the next room; then he spoke his name, and Mr. Craig was kneeling beside +him in a moment. The words came slowly-- + +'Oi tried--to fight it hout--but---oi got beaten. Hit 'urts to think +'E's hashamed o' me. Oi'd like t'a done better--oi would.' + +'Ashamed of you, Billy!' said Craig, in a voice that broke. 'Not He.' + +'An'--ye hall--'elped me so!' he went on. 'Oi wish oi'd 'a done +better--oi do,' and his eyes sought Geordie, and then rested on Mrs. +Mavor, who smiled back at him with a world of love in her eyes. + +'You hain't hashamed o' me--yore heyes saigh so,' he said looking at +her. + +'No, Billy,' she said, and I wondered at her steady voice, 'not a bit. +Why, Billy, I am proud of you.' + +He gazed up at her with wonder and ineffable love in his little eyes, +then lifted his hand slightly toward her. She knelt quickly and took it +in both of hers, stroking it and kissing it. + +'Oi haught t'a done better. Oi'm hawful sorry oi went back on 'Im. Hit +was the lemonaide. The boys didn't mean no 'arm--but hit started the +'ell hinside.' + +Geordie hurled out some bitter words. + +'Don't be 'ard on 'em, Geordie; they didn't mean no 'arm,' he said, and +his eyes kept waiting till Geordie said hurriedly-- + +'Na! na! lad--a'll juist leave them till the Almichty.' + +Then Mrs. Mavor sang softly, smoothing his hand, 'Just as I am,' and +Billy dozed quietly for half an hour. + +When he awoke again his eyes turned to Mr. Craig, and they were troubled +and anxious. + +'Oi tried 'ard. Oi wanted to win,' he struggled to say. By this time +Craig was master of himself, and he answered in a clear, distinct +voice-- + +'Listen, Billy! You made a great fight, and you are going to win +yet. And besides, do you remember the sheep that got lost over the +mountains?'--this parable was Billy's special delight--'He didn't beat +it when He got it, did he? He took it in His arms and carried it home. +And so He will you.' + +And Billy, keeping his eyes fastened on Mr. Craig, simply said-- + +'Will 'E?' + +'Sure!' said Craig. + +'Will 'E?' he repeated, turning his eyes upon Mrs. Mavor. + +'Why, yes, Billy,' she answered cheerily, though the tears were +streaming from her eyes. 'I would, and He loves you far more.' + +He looked at her, smiled, and closed his eyes. I put my hand on his +heart; it was fluttering feebly. Again a troubled look passed over his +face. + +'My--poor--hold--mother,' he whispered, 'she's--hin--the--wukus.' + +'I shall take care of her, Billy,' said Mrs. Mavor, in a clear voice, +and again Billy smiled. Then he turned his eyes to Mr. Craig, and from +him to Geordie, and at last to Mrs. Mavor, where they rested. She bent +over and kissed him twice on the forehead. + +'Tell 'er,' he said, with difficulty, ''E's took me 'ome.' + +'Yes, Billy!' she cried, gazing into his glazing eyes. He tried to lift +her hand. She kissed him again. He drew one deep breath and lay quite +still. + +'Thank the blessed Saviour!' said Mr. Craig, reverently. 'He has taken +him home.' + +But Mrs. Mavor held the dead hand tight and sobbed out passionately, +'Oh, Billy, Billy! you helped me once when I needed help! I cannot +forget!' + +And Geordie, groaning, 'Ay, laddie, laddie,' passed out into the fading +light of the early evening. + +Next day no one went to work, for to all it seemed a sacred day. They +carried him into the little church, and there Mr. Craig spoke of his +long, hard fight, and of his final victory; for he died without a fear, +and with love to the men who, not knowing, had been his death. And there +was no bitterness in any heart, for Mr. Craig read the story of the +sheep, and told how gently He had taken Billy home; but, though no word +was spoken, it was there the League was made again. + +They laid him under the pines, beside Lewis Mavor; and the miners threw +sprigs of evergreen into the open grave. When Slavin, sobbing bitterly, +brought his sprig, no one stopped him, though all thought it strange. + +As we turned to leave the grave, the light from the evening sun came +softly through the gap in the mountains, and, filling the valley, +touched the trees and the little mound beneath with glory. And I thought +of that other glory, which is brighter than the sun, and was not sorry +that poor Billy's weary fight was over; and I could not help agreeing +with Craig that it was there the League had its revenge. + + +CHAPTER X + +WHAT CAME TO SLAVIN + + +Billy Breen's legacy to the Black Rock mining camp was a new League, +which was more than the old League re-made. The League was new in its +spirit and in its methods. The impression made upon the camp by Billy +Breen's death was very remarkable, and I have never been quite able to +account for it. The mood of the community at the time was peculiarly +susceptible. Billy was one of the oldest of the old-timers. His decline +and fall had been a long process, and his struggle for life and manhood +was striking enough to arrest the attention and awaken the sympathy of +the whole camp. We instinctively side with a man in his struggle for +freedom; for we feel that freedom is native to him and to us. The sudden +collapse of the struggle stirred the men with a deep pity for the beaten +man, and a deep contempt for those who had tricked him to his doom. But +though the pity and the contempt remained, the gloom was relieved and +the sense of defeat removed from the men's minds by the transforming +glory of Billy's last hour. Mr. Craig, reading of the tragedy of Billy's +death, transfigured defeat into victory, and this was generally accepted +by the men as the true reading, though to them it was full of mystery. +But they could all understand and appreciate at full value the spirit +that breathed through the words of the dying man: 'Don't be 'ard on 'em, +they didn't mean no 'arm.' And this was the new spirit of the League. + +It was this spirit that surprised Slavin into sudden tears at the +grave's side. He had come braced for curses and vengeance, for all knew +it was he who had doctored Billy's lemonade, and instead of vengeance +the message from the dead that echoed through the voice of the living +was one of pity and forgiveness. + +But the days of the League's negative, defensive warfare were over. +The fight was to the death, and now the war was to be carried into +the enemy's country. The League men proposed a thoroughly equipped and +well-conducted coffee-room, reading-room, and hall, to parallel the +enemy's lines of operation, and defeat them with their own weapons upon +their own ground. The main outlines of the scheme were clearly defined +and were easily seen, but the perfecting of the details called for all +Craig's tact and good sense. When, for instance, Vernon Winton, who had +charge of the entertainment department, came for Craig's opinion as to +a minstrel troupe and private theatricals, Craig was prompt with his +answer-- + +'Anything clean goes.' + +'A nigger show?' asked Winton. + +'Depends upon the niggers,' replied Craig with a gravely comic look, +shrewdly adding, 'ask Mrs. Mavor'; and so the League Minstrel and +Dramatic Company became an established fact, and proved, as Craig +afterwards told me, 'a great means of grace to the camp.' + +Shaw had charge of the social department, whose special care it was to +see that the men were made welcome to the cosy, cheerful reading room, +where they might chat, smoke, read, write, or play games, according to +fancy. + +But Craig felt that the success or failure of the scheme would largely +depend upon the character of the Resident Manager, who, while caring +for reading-room and hall, would control and operate the important +department represented by the coffee-room. + +'At this point the whole business may come to grief,' he said to Mrs. +Mavor, without whose counsel nothing was done. + +'Why come to grief?' she asked brightly. + +'Because if we don't get the right man, that's what will happen,' he +replied in a tone that spoke of anxious worry. + +'But we shall get the right man, never fear.' Her serene courage never +faltered. 'He will come to us.' + +Craig turned and gazed at her in frank admiration and said-- + +'If I only had your courage!' + +'Courage!' she answered quickly. 'It is not for you to say that'; and +at his answering look the red came into her cheek and the depths in her +eyes glowed, and I marvelled and wondered, looking at Craig's cool face, +whether his blood were running evenly through his veins. But his voice +was quiet, a shade too quiet I thought, as he gravely replied-- + +'I would often be a coward but for the shame of it.' + +And so the League waited for the man to come, who was to be Resident +Manager and make the new enterprise a success. And come he did; but the +manner of his coming was so extraordinary, that I have believed in the +doctrine of a special providence ever since; for as Craig said, 'If he +had come straight from Heaven I could not have been more surprised.' + +While the League was thus waiting, its interest centred upon Slavin, +chiefly because he represented more than any other the forces of the +enemy; and though Billy Breen stood between him and the vengeance of the +angry men who would have made short work of him and his saloon, nothing +could save him from himself, and after the funeral Slavin went to his +bar and drank whisky as he had never drunk before. But the more he drank +the fiercer and gloomier he became, and when the men drinking with him +chaffed him, he swore deeply and with such threats that they left him +alone. + +It did not help Slavin either to have Nixon stride in through the crowd +drinking at his bar and give him words of warning. + +'It is not your fault, Slavin,' he said in slow, cool voice, 'that you +and your precious crew didn't sent me to my death, too. You've won your +bet, but I want to say, that next time, though you are seven to one, or +ten times that, when any of you boys offer me a drink I'll take you to +mean fight, and I'll not disappoint you, and some one will be killed,' +and so saying he strode out again, leaving a mean-looking crowd of men +behind him. All who had not been concerned in the business at Nixon's +shack expressed approval of his position, and hoped he would 'see it +through.' + +But the impression of Nixon's words upon Slavin was as nothing compared +with that made by Geordie Crawford. It was not what he said so much +as the manner of awful solemnity he carried. Geordie was struggling +conscientiously to keep his promise to 'not be 'ard on the boys,' and +found considerable relief in remembering that he had agreed 'to leave +them tae the Almichty.' But the manner of leaving them was so solemnly +awful, that I could not wonder that Slavin's superstitious Irish nature +supplied him with supernatural terrors. It was the second day after the +funeral that Geordie and I were walking towards Slavin's. There was a +great shout of laughter as we drew near. + +Geordie stopped short, and saying, 'We'll juist gang in a meenute,' +passed through the crowd and up to the bar. + +'Michael Slavin,' began Geordie, and the men stared in dead, silence, +with their glasses in their hands. 'Michael Slavin, a' promised the lad +a'd bear ye nae ill wull, but juist leave ye tae the Almichty; an' I +want tae tell ye that a'm keepin' ma wur-r-d. But'--and here he raised +his hand, and his voice became preternaturally solemn--'his bluid is +upon yer han's. Do ye no' see it?' + +His voice rose sharply, and as he pointed, Slavin instinctively glanced +at his hands, and Geordie added-- + +'Ay, and the Lord will require it o' you and yer hoose.' + +They told me that Slavin shivered as if taken with ague after Geordie +went out, and though he laughed and swore, he did not stop drinking till +he sank into a drunken stupor and had to be carried to bed. His little +French-Canadian wife could not understand the change that had come over +her husband. + +'He's like one bear,' she confided to Mrs. Mavor, to whom she was +showing her baby of a year old. 'He's not kees me one tam dis day. +He's mos hawful bad, he's not even look at de baby.' And this seemed +sufficient proof that something was seriously wrong; for she went on to +say-- + +'He's tink more for dat leel baby dan for de whole worl'; he's tink more +for dat baby dan for me,' but she shrugged her pretty little shoulders +in deprecation of her speech. + +'You must pray for him,' said Mrs. Mavor, 'and all will come right.' + +'Ah! madame!' she replied earnestly, 'every day, every day, I pray la +sainte Vierge et tous les saints for him.' + +'You must pray to your Father in heaven for him.' + +'Ah! oui! I weel pray,' and Mrs. Mavor sent her away bright with smiles, +and with new hope and courage in her heart. + +She had very soon need of all her courage, for at the week's end her +baby fell dangerously ill. Slavin's anxiety and fear were not relieved +much by the reports the men brought him from time to time of Geordie's +ominous forebodings; for Geordie had no doubt but that the Avenger of +Blood was hot upon Slavin's trail; and as the sickness grew, he became +confirmed in this conviction. While he could not be said to find +satisfaction in Slavin's impending affliction, he could hardly hide his +complacency in the promptness of Providence in vindicating his theory of +retribution. + +But Geordie's complacency was somewhat rudely shocked by Mr. Craig's +answer to his theory one day. + +'You read your Bible to little profit, it seems to me, Geordie: or, +perhaps, you have never read the Master's teaching about the Tower of +Siloam. Better read that and take that warning to yourself.' + +Geordie gazed after Mr. Craig as he turned away, and muttered-- + +'The toor o' Siloam, is it? Ay, a' ken fine aboot the toor o' Siloam, +and aboot the toor o' Babel as weel; an' a've read, too, about the +blaspheemious Herod, an' sic like. Man, but he's a hot-heided laddie, +and lacks discreemeenation.' + +'What about Herod, Geordie?' I asked. + +'Aboot Herod?'--with a strong tinge of contempt in his tone. 'Aboot +Herod? Man, hae ye no' read in the Screepturs aboot Herod an' the +wur-r-ms in the wame o' him?' + +'Oh yes, I see,' I hastened to answer. + +'Ay, a fule can see what's flapped in his face,' with which bit of +proverbial philosophy he suddenly left me. But Geordie thenceforth +contented himself, in Mr. Craig's presence at least, with ominous +head-shakings, equally aggravating, and impossible to answer. + +That same night, however, Geordie showed that with all his theories he +had a man's true heart, for he came in haste to Mrs. Mavor to say: + +'Ye'll be needed ower yonder, a'm thinkin'.' + +'Why? Is the baby worse? Have you been in?' + +'Na, na,' replied Geordie cautiously, 'a'll no gang where a'm no wanted. +But yon puir thing, ye can hear ootside weepin' and moanin'.' + +'She'll maybe need ye tae,' he went on dubiously to me. 'Ye're a kind +o' doctor, a' hear,' not committing himself to any opinion as to my +professional value. But Slavin would have none of me, having got the +doctor sober enough to prescribe. + +The interest of the camp in Slavin was greatly increased by the illness +of his baby, which was to him as the apple of his eye. There were a few +who, impressed by Geordie's profound convictions upon the matter, +were inclined to favour the retribution theory, and connect the baby's +illness with the vengeance of the Almighty. Among these few was Slavin +himself, and goaded by his remorseful terrors he sought relief in drink. +But this brought him only deeper and fiercer gloom; so that between her +suffering child and her savagely despairing husband, the poor mother was +desperate with terror and grief. + +'Ah! madame,' she sobbed to Mrs. Mavor, 'my heart is broke for him. He's +heet noting for tree days, but jis dreenk, dreenk, dreenk.' + +The next day a man came for me in haste. The baby was dying and the +doctor was drunk. I found the little one in a convulsion lying across +Mrs. Mavor's knees, the mother kneeling beside it, wringing her hands in +a dumb agony, and Slavin standing near, silent and suffering. I glanced +at the bottle of medicine upon the table and asked Mrs. Mavor the dose, +and found the baby had been poisoned. My look of horror told Slavin +something was wrong, and striding to me he caught my arm and asked-- + +'What is it? Is the medicine wrong?' + +I tried to put him off, but his grip tightened till his fingers seemed +to reach the bone. + +'The dose is certainly too large; but let me go, I must do something.' + +He let me go at once, saying in a voice that made my heart sore for him, +'He has killed my baby; he has killed my baby.' And then he cursed the +doctor with awful curses, and with a look of such murderous fury on his +face that I was glad the doctor was too drunk to appear. + +His wife hearing his curses, and understanding the cause, broke out into +wailing hard to bear. + +'Ah! mon petit ange! It is dat wheeskey dat's keel mon baby. Ah! mon +cheri, mon amour. Ah! mon Dieu! Ah, Michael, how often I say that +wheeskey he's not good ting.' + +It was more than Slavin could bear, and with awful curses he passed +out. Mrs. Mavor laid the baby in its crib, for the convulsion had +passed away; and putting her arms about the wailing little Frenchwoman, +comforted and soothed her as a mother might her child. + +'And you must help your husband,' I heard her say. 'He will need you +more than ever. Think of him.' + +'Ah oui! I weel,' was the quick reply, and from that moment there was no +more wailing. + +It seemed no more than a minute till Slavin came in again, sober, quiet, +and steady; the passion was all gone from his face, and only the grief +remained. + +As we stood leaning over the sleeping child the little thing opened its +eyes, saw its father, and smiled. It was too much for him. The big man +dropped on his knees with a dry sob. + +'Is there no chance at all, at all?' he whispered, but I could give +him no hope. He immediately rose, and pulling himself together, stood +perfectly quiet. + +A new terror seized upon the mother. + +'My baby is not--what you call it?' going through the form of baptism. +'An' he will not come to la sainte Vierge,' she said, crossing herself. + +'Do not fear for your little one,' said Mrs. Mavor, still with her arms +about her. 'The good Saviour will take your darling into His own arms.' + +But the mother would not be comforted by this. And Slavin too, was +uneasy. + +'Where is Father Goulet?' he asked. + +'Ah! you were not good to the holy pere de las tam, Michael,' she +replied sadly. 'The saints are not please for you.' + +'Where is the priest?' he demanded. + +'I know not for sure. At de Landin', dat's lak.' + +'I'll go for him,' he said. But his wife clung to him, beseeching him +not to leave her, and indeed he was loth to leave his little one. + +I found Craig and told him the difficulty. With his usual promptness, he +was ready with a solution. + +'Nixon has a team. He will go.' Then he added, 'I wonder if they would +not like me to baptize their little one. Father Goulet and I have +exchanged offices before now. I remember how he came to one of my people +in my absence, when she was dying, read with her, prayed with her, +comforted her, and helped her across the river. He is a good soul, and +has no nonsense about him. Send for me if you think there is need. It +will make no difference to the baby, but it will comfort the mother.' + +Nixon was willing enough to go; but when he came to the door Mrs. Mavor +saw the hard look in his face. He had not forgotten his wrong, for day +by day he was still fighting the devil within that Slavin had called to +life. But Mrs. Mavor, under cover of getting him instructions, drew him +into the room. While listening to her, his eyes wandered from one to the +other of the group till they rested upon the little white face in the +crib. She noticed the change in his face. + +'They fear the little one will never see the Saviour if it is not +baptized,' she said, in a low tone. + +He was eager to go. + +'I'll do my best to get the priest,' he said, and was gone on his sixty +miles' race with death. + +The long afternoon wore on, but before it was half gone I saw Nixon +could not win, and that the priest would be too late, so I sent for Mr. +Craig. From the moment he entered the room he took command of us all. +He was so simple, so manly, so tender, the hearts of the parents +instinctively turned to him. + +As he was about to proceed with the baptism, the mother whispered to +Mrs. Mavor, who hesitatingly asked Mr. Craig if he would object to using +holy water. + +'To me it is the same as any other,' he replied gravely. + +'An' will he make the good sign?' asked the mother timidly. + +And so the child was baptized by the Presbyterian minister with holy +water and with the sign of the cross. I don't suppose it was orthodox, +and it rendered chaotic some of my religious notions, but I thought more +of Craig that moment than ever before. He was more man than minister, or +perhaps he was so good a minister that day because so much a man. As he +read about the Saviour and the children and the disciples who tried to +get in between them, and as he told us the story in his own simple +and beautiful way, and then went on to picture the home of the little +children, and the same Saviour in the midst of them, I felt my heart +grow warm, and I could easily understand the cry of the mother-- + +'Oh, mon Jesu, prenez moi aussi, take me wiz mon mignon.' + +The cry wakened Slavin's heart, and he said huskily-- + +'Oh! Annette! Annette!' + +'Ah, oui! an' Michael too!' Then to Mr. Craig-- + +'You tink He's tak me some day? Eh?' + +'All who love Him,' he replied. + +'An' Michael too?' she asked, her eyes searching his face, 'An' Michael +too?' + +But Craig only replied: 'All who love Him.' + +'Ah, Michael, you must pray le bon Jesu. He's garde notre mignon.' And +then she bent over the babe, whispering-- + +'Ah, mon cheri, mon amour, adieu! adieu! mon ange!' till Slavin put +his arms about her and took her away, for as she was whispering her +farewells, her baby, with a little answering sigh, passed into the House +with many rooms. + +'Whisht, Annette darlin'; don't cry for the baby,' said her husband. +'Shure it's better off than the rest av us, it is. An' didn't ye hear +what the minister said about the beautiful place it is? An' shure he +wouldn't lie to us at all.' But a mother cannot be comforted for her +first-born son. + +An hour later Nixon brought Father Goulet. He was a little Frenchman +with gentle manners and the face of a saint. Craig welcomed him warmly, +and told him what he had done. + +'That is good, my brother,' he said, with gentle courtesy, and, turning +to the mother, 'Your little one is safe.' + +Behind Father Goulet came Nixon softly, and gazed down upon the little +quiet face, beautiful with the magic of death. Slavin came quietly and +stood beside him. Nixon turned and offered his hand. But Slavin said, +moving slowly back-- + +'I did ye a wrong, Nixon, an' it's a sorry man I am this day for it.' + +'Don't say a word, Slavin,' answered Nixon, hurriedly. 'I know how you +feel. I've got a baby too. I want to see it again. That's why the break +hurt me so.' + +'As God's above,' replied Slavin earnestly, 'I'll hinder ye no more.' +They shook hands, and we passed out. + +We laid the baby under the pines, not far from Billy Breen, and the +sweet spring wind blew through the Gap, and came softly down the valley, +whispering to the pines and the grass and the hiding flowers of the New +Life coming to the world. And the mother must have heard the whisper in +her heart, for, as the Priest was saying the words of the Service, she +stood with Mrs. Mavor's arms about her, and her eyes were looking far +away beyond the purple mountain-tops, seeing what made her smile. And +Slavin, too, looked different. His very features seemed finer. The +coarseness was gone out of his face. What had come to him I could not +tell. + +But when the doctor came into Slavin's house that night it was the old +Slavin I saw, but with a look of such deadly fury on his face that I +tried to get the doctor out at once. But he was half drunk and after his +manner was hideously humorous. + +'How do, ladies! How do, gentlemen!' was his loud-voiced salutation. +'Quite a professional gathering, clergy predominating. Lion and Lamb +too, ha! ha! which is the lamb, eh? ha! ha! very good! awfully sorry to +hear of your loss, Mrs. Slavin; did our best you know, can't help this +sort of thing.' + +Before any one could move, Craig was at his side, and saying in a clear, +firm voice, 'One moment, doctor,' caught him by the arm and had him out +of the room before he knew it. Slavin, who had been crouching in his +chair with hands twitching and eyes glaring, rose and followed, still +crouching as he walked. I hurried after him, calling him back. Turning +at my voice, the doctor saw Slavin approaching. There was something so +terrifying in his swift noiseless crouching motion, that the doctor, +crying out in fear 'Keep him off,' fairly turned and fled. He was too +late. Like a tiger Slavin leaped upon him and without waiting to strike +had him by the throat with both hands, and bearing him to the ground, +worried him there as a dog might a cat. + +Immediately Craig and I were upon him, but though we lifted him clear +off the ground we could not loosen that two-handed strangling grip. At +we were struggling there a light hand touched my shoulder. It was Father +Goulet. + +'Please let him go, and stand away from us,' he said, waving us back. +We obeyed. He leaned over Slavin and spoke a few words to him. Slavin +started as if struck a heavy blow, looked up at the priest with fear in +his face, but still keeping his grip. + +'Let him go,' said the priest. Slavin hesitated. 'Let him go! quick!' +said the priest again, and Slavin with a snarl let go his hold and stood +sullenly facing the priest. + +Father Goulet regarded him steadily for some seconds and then asked-- + +'What would you do?' His voice was gentle enough, even sweet, but there +was something in it that chilled my marrow. 'What would you do?' he +repeated. + +'He murdered my child,' growled Slavin. + +'Ah! how?' + +'He was drunk and poisoned him.' + +'Ah! who gave him drink? Who made him a drunkard two years ago? Who has +wrecked his life?' + +There was no answer, and the even-toned voice went relentlessly on-- + +'Who is the murderer of your child now?' + +Slavin groaned and shuddered. + +'Go!' and the voice grew stern. 'Repent of your sin and add not +another.' + +Slavin turned his eyes upon the motionless figure on the ground and +then upon the priest. Father Goulet took one step towards him, and, +stretching out his hand and pointing with his finger, said-- + +'Go!' + +And Slavin slowly backed away and went into his house. It was an +extraordinary scene, and it is often with me now: the dark figure on the +ground, the slight erect form of the priest with outstretched arm and +finger, and Slavin backing away, fear and fury struggling in his face. + +It was a near thing for the doctor, however, and two minutes more +of that grip would have done for him. As it was, we had the greatest +difficulty in reviving him. + +What the priest did with Slavin after getting him inside I know not; +that has always been a mystery to me. But when we were passing the +saloon that night after taking Mrs. Mavor home, we saw a light and +heard strange sounds within. Entering, we found another whisky raid +in progress, Slavin himself being the raider. We stood some moments +watching him knocking in the heads of casks and emptying bottles. I +thought he had gone mad, and approached him cautiously. + +'Hello, Slavin!' I called out; 'what does this mean?' + +He paused in his strange work, and I saw that his face, though resolute, +was quiet enough. + +'It means I'm done wid the business, I am,' he said, in a determined +voice. 'I'll help no more to kill any man, or,' in a lower tone, 'any +man's baby.' The priest's words had struck home. + +'Thank God, Slavin!' said Craig, offering his hand; 'you are much too +good a man for the business.' + +'Good or bad, I'm done wid it,' he replied, going on with his work. + +'You are throwing away good money, Slavin,' I said, as the head of a +cask crashed in. + +'It's meself that knows it, for the price of whisky has riz in town +this week,' he answered, giving me a look out of the corner of his eye. +'Bedad! it was a rare clever job,' referring to our Black Rock Hotel +affair. + +'But won't you be sorry for this?' asked Craig. + +'Beloike I will; an' that's why I'm doin' it before I'm sorry for it,' +he replied, with a delightful bull. + +'Look here, Slavin,' said Craig earnestly; 'if I can be of use to you in +any way, count on me.' + +'It's good to me the both of yez have been, an' I'll not forget it to +yez,' he replied, with like earnestness. + +As we told Mrs. Mavor that night, for Craig thought it too good to +keep, her eyes seemed to grow deeper and the light in them to glow more +intense as she listened to Craig pouring out his tale. Then she gave him +her hand and said-- + +'You have your man at last.' + +'What man?' + +'The man you have been waiting for.' + +'Slavin!' + +'Why not?' + +'I never thought of it.' + +'No more did he, nor any of us.' Then, after a pause, she added gently, +'He has been sent to us?' + +'Do you know, I believe you are right,' Craig said slowly, and then +added, 'But you always are.' + +'I fear not,' she answered; but I thought she liked to hear his words. + +The whole town was astounded next morning when Slavin went to work in +the mines, and its astonishment only deepened as the days went on, and +he stuck to his work. Before three weeks had gone the League had bought +and remodelled the saloon and had secured Slavin as Resident Manager. + +The evening of the reopening of Slavin's saloon, as it was still called, +was long remembered in Black Rock. It was the occasion of the first +appearance of 'The League Minstrel and Dramatic Troupe,' in what +was described as a 'hair-lifting tragedy with appropriate musical +selections.' Then there was a grand supper and speeches and great +enthusiasm, which reached its climax when Nixon rose to propose the +toast of the evening--'Our Saloon.' His speech was simply a quiet, manly +account of his long struggle with the deadly enemy. When he came to +speak of his recent defeat he said-- + +'And while I am blaming no one but myself, I am glad to-night that this +saloon is on our side, for my own sake and for the sake of those who +have been waiting long to see me. But before I sit down I want to say +that while I live I shall not forget that I owe my life to the man that +took me that night to his own shack and put me in his own bed, and met +me next morning with an open hand; for I tell you I had sworn to God +that that morning would be my last.' + +Geordie's speech was characteristic. After a brief reference to the +'mysteerious ways o' Providence,' which he acknowledged he might +sometimes fail to understand, he went on to express his unqualified +approval of the new saloon. + +'It's a cosy place, an' there's nae sulphur aboot. Besides a' that,' he +went on enthusiastically, 'it'll be a terrible savin'. I've juist been +coontin'.' + +'You bet!' ejaculated a voice with great emphasis. + +'I've juist been coontin',' went on Geordie, ignoring the remark and the +laugh which followed, 'an' it's an awfu'-like money ye pit ower wi' the +whusky. Ye see ye canna dae wi' ane bit glass; ye maun hae twa or three +at the verra least, for it's no verra forrit ye get wi' ane glass. But +wi' yon coffee ye juist get a saxpence-worth an' ye want nae mair.' + +There was another shout of laughter, which puzzled Geordie much. + +'I dinna see the jowk, but I've slippit ower in whusky mair nor a hunner +dollars.' + +Then he paused, looking hard before him, and twisting his face into +extraordinary shapes till the men looked at him in wonder. + +'I'm rale glad o' this saloon, but it's ower late for the lad that canna +be helpit the noo. He'll not be needin' help o' oors, I doot, but there +are ithers'--and he stopped abruptly and sat down, with no applause +following. + +But when Slavin, our saloon-keeper, rose to reply, the men jumped up +on the seats and yelled till they could yell no more. Slavin stood, +evidently in trouble with himself, and finally broke out-- + +'It's spacheless I am entirely. What's come to me I know not, nor how +it's come. But I'll do my best for yez.' And then the yelling broke out +again. + +I did not yell myself. I was too busy watching the varying lights in +Mrs. Mavor's eyes as she looked from Craig to the yelling men on the +benches and tables, and then to Slavin, and I found myself wondering if +she knew what it was that came to Slavin. + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE TWO CALLS + + +With the call to Mr. Craig I fancy I had something to do myself. The +call came from a young congregation in an eastern city, and was based +partly upon his college record and more upon the advice of those among +the authorities who knew his work in the mountains. But I flatter myself +that my letters to friends who were of importance in that congregation +were not without influence, for I was of the mind that the man who could +handle Black Rock miners as he could was ready for something larger than +a mountain mission. That he would refuse I had not imagined, though I +ought to have known him better. He was but little troubled over it. He +went with the call and the letters urging his acceptance to Mrs. Mavor. +I was putting the last touches to some of my work in the room at the +back of Mrs. Mavor's house when he came in. She read the letters and the +call quietly, and waited for him to speak. + +'Well?' he said; 'should I go?' + +She started, and grew a little pale. His question suggested a +possibility that had not occurred to her. That he could leave his work +in Black Rock she had hitherto never imagined; but there was other work, +and he was fit for good work anywhere. Why should he not go? I saw the +fear in her face, but I saw more than fear in her eyes, as for a moment +or two she let them rest upon Craig's face. I read her story, and I was +not sorry for either of them. But she was too much a woman to show her +heart easily to the man she loved, and her voice was even and calm as +she answered his question. + +'Is this a very large congregation?' + +'One of the finest in all the East,' I put in for him. 'It will be a +great thing for Craig.' + +Craig was studying her curiously. I think she noticed his eyes upon her, +for she went on even more quietly-- + +'It will be a great chance for work, and you are able for a larger +sphere, you know, than poor Black Rock affords.' + +'Who will take Black Rock?' he asked. + +'Let some other fellow have a try at it,' I said. 'Why should you waste +your talents here?' + +'Waste?' cried Mrs. Mavor indignantly. + +'Well, "bury," if you like it better,' I replied. + +'It would not take much of a grave for that funeral,' said Craig, +smiling. + +'Oh,' said Mrs. Mavor, 'you will be a great man I know, and perhaps you +ought to go now.' + +But he answered coolly: 'There are fifty men wanting that Eastern +charge, and there is only one wanting Black Rock, and I don't think +Black Rock is anxious for a change, so I have determined to stay where I +am yet a while.' + +Even my deep disgust and disappointment did not prevent me from seeing +the sudden leap of joy in Mrs. Mavor's eyes, but she, with a great +effort, answered quietly-- + +'Black Rock will be very glad, and some of us very, very glad.' + +Nothing could change his mind. There was no one he knew who could take +his place just now, and why should he quit his work? It annoyed me +considerably to feel he was right. Why is it that the right things are +so frequently unpleasant? + +And if I had had any doubt about the matter next Sabbath evening would +have removed it. For the men came about him after the service and let +him feel in their own way how much they approved his decision, though +the self-sacrifice involved did not appeal to them. They were too truly +Western to imagine that any inducements the East could offer could +compensate for his loss of the West. It was only fitting that the West +should have the best, and so the miners took almost as a matter of +course, and certainly as their right, that the best man they knew should +stay with them. But there were those who knew how much of what most men +consider worth while he had given up, and they loved him no less for it. + +Mrs. Mavor's call was not so easily disposed of. It came close upon +the other, and stirred Black Rock as nothing else had ever stirred it +before. + +I found her one afternoon gazing vacantly at some legal documents spread +out before her on the table, and evidently overcome by their contents. +There was first a lawyer's letter informing her that by the death of her +husband's father she had come into the whole of the Mavor estates, and +all the wealth pertaining thereto. The letter asked for instructions, +and urged an immediate return with a view to a personal superintendence +of the estates. A letter, too, from a distant cousin of her husband +urged her immediate return for many reasons, but chiefly on account +of the old mother who had been left alone with none nearer of kin than +himself to care for her and cheer her old age. + +With these two came another letter from her mother-in-law herself. The +crabbed, trembling characters were even more eloquent than the words +with which the letter closed. + +'I have lost my boy, and now my husband is gone, and I am a lonely +woman. I have many servants, and some friends, but none near to me, none +so near and dear as my dead son's wife. My days are not to be many. Come +to me, my daughter; I want you and Lewis's child.' + +'Must I go?' she asked with white lips. + +'Do you know her well?' I asked. + +'I only saw her once or twice,' she answered; 'but she has been very +good to me.' + +'She can hardly need you. She has friends. And surely you are needed +here.' + +She looked at me eagerly. + +'Do you think so?' she said. + +'Ask any man in the camp--Shaw, Nixon, young Winton, Geordie. Ask +Craig,' I replied. + +'Yes, he will tell me,' she said. + +Even as she spoke Craig came up the steps. I passed into my studio and +went on with my work, for my days at Black Rock were getting few, and +many sketches remained to be filled in. + +Through my open door I saw Mrs. Mavor lay her letters before Mr. Craig, +saying, 'I have a call too.' They thought not of me. + +He went through the papers, carefully laid them down without a word +while she waited anxiously, almost impatiently, for him to speak. + +'Well?' she asked, using his own words to her; 'should I go?' + +'I do not know,' he replied; 'that is for you to decide--you know all +the circumstances.' + +'The letters tell all.' Her tone carried a feeling of disappointment. He +did not appear to care. + +'The estates are large?' he asked. + +'Yes, large enough--twelve thousand a year.' + +'And has your mother-in-law any one with her?' + +'She has friends, but, as she says, none near of kin. Her nephew looks +after the works--iron works, you know--he has shares in them.' + +'She is evidently very lonely,' he answered gravely. + +'What shall I do?' she asked, and I knew she was waiting to hear him +urge her to stay; but he did not see, or at least gave no heed. + +'I cannot say,' he repeated quietly. 'There are many things to consider; +the estates--' + +'The estates seem to trouble you,' she replied, almost fretfully. He +looked up in surprise. I wondered at his slowness. + +'Yes, the estates,' he went on, 'and tenants, I suppose--your +mother-in-law, your little Marjorie's future, your own future.' + +'The estates are in capable hands, I should suppose,' she urged, 'and my +future depends upon what I choose my work to be.' + +'But one cannot shift one's responsibilities,' he replied gravely. +'These estates, these tenants, have come to you, and with them come +duties.' + +'I do not want them,' she cried. + +'That life has great possibilities of good,' he said kindly. + +'I had thought that perhaps there was work for me here,' she suggested +timidly. + +'Great work,' he hastened to say. 'You have done great work. But you +will do that wherever you go. The only question is where your work +lies.' + +'You think I should go,' she said suddenly and a little bitterly. + +'I cannot bid you stay,' he answered steadily. + +'How can I go?' she cried, appealing to him. 'Must I go?' + +How he could resist that appeal I could not understand. His face was +cold and hard, and his voice was almost harsh as he replied-- + +'If it is right, you will go--you must go.' + +Then she burst forth-- + +'I cannot go. I shall stay here. My work is here; my heart is here. How +can I go? You thought it worth your while to stay here and work, why +should not I?' + +The momentary gleam in his eyes died out, and again he said coldly-- + +'This work was clearly mine. I am needed here.' + +'Yes, yes!' she cried, her voice full of pain; 'you are needed, but +there is no need of me.' + +'Stop, stop!' he said sharply; 'you must not say so.' + +'I will say it, I must say it,' she cried, her voice vibrating with +the intensity of her feeling. 'I know you do not need me; you have your +work, your miners, your plans; you need no one; you are strong. But,' +and her voice rose to a cry, 'I am not strong by myself; you have made +me strong. I came here a foolish girl, foolish and selfish and narrow. +God sent me grief. Three years ago my heart died. Now I am living again. +I am a woman now, no longer a girl. You have done this for me. Your +life, your words, yourself--you have showed me a better, a higher life, +than I had ever known before, and now you send me away.' + +She paused abruptly. + +'Blind, stupid fool!' I said to myself. + +He held himself resolutely in hand, answering carefully, but his voice +had lost its coldness and was sweet and kind. + +'Have I done this for you? Then surely God has been good to me. And you +have helped me more than any words could tell you.' + +'Helped!' she repeated scornfully. + +'Yes, helped,' he answered, wondering at her scorn. + +'You can do without my help,' she went on. 'You make people help you. +You will get many to help you; but I need help, too.' She was standing +before him with her hands tightly clasped; her face was pale, and her +eyes deeper than ever. He sat looking up at her in a kind of maze as she +poured out her words hot and fast. + +'I am not thinking of you.' His coldness had hurt her deeply. 'I am +selfish; I am thinking of myself. How shall I do? I have grown to depend +on you, to look to you. It is nothing to you that I go, but to me--' She +did not dare to finish. + +By this time Craig was standing before her, his face deadly pale. When +she came to the end of her words, he said, in a voice low, sweet, and +thrilling with emotion-- + +'Ah, if you only knew! Do not make me forget myself. You do not guess +what you are doing.' + +'What am I doing? What is there to know, but that you tell me easily to +go? She was struggling with the tears she was too proud to let him see. + +He put his hands resolutely behind him, looking at her as if studying +her face for the first time. Under his searching look she dropped her +eyes, and the warm colour came slowly up into her neck and face; then, +as if with a sudden resolve, she lifted her eyes to his, and looked back +at him unflinchingly. + +He started, surprised, drew slowly near, put his hands upon her +shoulders, surprise giving place to wild joy. She never moved her eyes; +they drew him towards her. He took her face between his hands, smiled +into her eyes, kissed her lips. She did not move; he stood back from +her, threw up his head, and laughed aloud. She came to him, put her head +upon his breast, and lifting up her face said, 'Kiss me.' He put his +arms about her, bent down and kissed her lips again, and then reverently +her brow. Then putting her back from him, but still holding both her +hands, he cried-- + +'Not you shall not go. I shall never let you go.' + +She gave a little sigh of content, and, smiling up at him, said-- + +'I can go now'; but even as she spoke the flush died from her face, and +she shuddered. + +'Never!' he almost shouted; 'nothing shall take you away. We shall work +here together.' + +'Ah, if we could, if we only could,' she said piteously. + +'Why not?' he demanded fiercely. + +'You will send me away. You will say it is right for me to go,' she +replied sadly. + +'Do we not love each other?' was his impatient answer. + +'Ah! yes, love,' she said; 'but love is not all.' + +'No!' cried Craig; 'but love is the best' + +'Yes!' she said sadly; 'love is the best, and it is for love's sake we +will do the best.' + +'There is no better work than here. Surely this is best,' and he +pictured his plans before her. She listened eagerly. + +'Oh! if it should be right,' she cried, 'I will do what you say. You are +good, you are wise, you shall tell me.' + +She could not have recalled him better. He stood silent some moments, +then burst out passionately-- + +'Why then has love come to us? We did not seek it. Surely love is of +God. Does God mock us?' + +He threw himself into his chair, pouring out his words of passionate +protestation. She listened, smiling, then came to him and, touching his +hair as a mother might her child's, said-- + +'Oh, I am very happy! I was afraid you would not care, and I could not +bear to go that way.' + +'You shall not go,' he cried aloud, as if in pain. 'Nothing can make +that right.' + +But she only said, 'You shall tell me to-morrow. You cannot see +to-night, but you will see, and you will tell me.' + +He stood up and, holding both her hands, looked long into her eyes, then +turned abruptly away and went out. + +She stood where he left her for some moments, her face radiant, and her +hands pressed upon her heart. Then she came toward my room. She found me +busy with my painting, but as I looked up and met her eyes she flushed +slightly, and said-- + +'I quite forgot you.' + +'So it appeared to me.' + +'You heard?' + +'And saw,' I replied boldly. 'It would have been rude to interrupt, you +see.' + +'Oh, I am so glad and thankful.' + +'Yes; it was rather considerate of me.' + +'Oh, I don't mean that,' the flush deepening; 'I am glad you know.' + +'I have known some time.' + +'How could you? I only knew to-day myself.' + +'I have eyes.' She flushed again. + +'Do you mean that people--' she began anxiously. + +'No; I am not "people." I have eyes, and my eyes have been opened.' + +'Opened?' + +'Yes, by love.' + +Then I told her openly how, weeks ago, I struggled with my heart and +mastered it, for I saw it was vain to love her, because she loved a +better man who loved her in return. She looked at me shyly and said-- + +'I am sorry.' + +'Don't worry,' I said cheerfully. 'I didn't break my heart, you know; I +stopped it in time.' + +'Oh!' she said, slightly disappointed; then her lips began to twitch, +and she went off into a fit of hysterical laughter. + +'Forgive me,' she said humbly; 'but you speak as if it had been a +fever.' + +'Fever is nothing to it,' I said solemnly. 'It was a near thing.' At +which she went off again. I was glad to see her laugh. It gave me time +to recover my equilibrium, and it relieved her intense emotional strain. +So I rattled on some nonsense about Craig and myself till I saw she was +giving no heed, but thinking her own thoughts: and what these were it +was not hard to guess. + +Suddenly she broke in upon my talk-- + +'He will tell me that I must go from him.' + +'I hope he is no such fool,' I said emphatically and somewhat rudely, +I fear; for I confess I was impatient with the very possibility of +separation for these two, to whom love meant so much. Some people take +this sort of thing easily and some not so easily; but love for a woman +like this comes once only to a man, and then he carries it with him +through the length of his life, and warms his heart with it in death. +And when a man smiles or sneers at such love as this, I pity him, and +say no word, for my speech would be in an unknown tongue. So my +heart was sore as I sat looking up at this woman who stood before me, +overflowing with the joy of her new love, and dully conscious of the +coming pain. But I soon found it was vain to urge my opinion that she +should remain and share the work and life of the man she loved. She only +answered-- + +'You will help him all you can, for it will hurt him to have me go.' + +The quiver in her voice took out all the anger from my heart, and before +I knew I had pledged myself to do all I could to help him. + +But when I came upon him that night, sitting in the light of his fire, +I saw he must be let alone. Some battles we fight side by side, with +comrades cheering us and being cheered to victory; but there are fights +we may not share, and these are deadly fights where lives are lost and +won. So I could only lay my hand upon his shoulder without a word. He +looked up quickly, read my face, and said, with a groan-- + +'You know?' + +'I could not help it. But why groan?' + +'She will think it right to go,' he said despairingly. + +'Then you must think for her; you must bring some common-sense to bear +upon the question.' + +'I cannot see clearly yet,' he said; 'the light will come.' + +'May I show you how I see it?' I asked. + +'Go on,' he said. + +For an hour I talked; eloquently, even vehemently urging the reason and +right of my opinion. She would be doing no more than every woman does, +no more than she did before; her mother-in-law had a comfortable home, +all that wealth could procure, good servants, and friends; the estates +could be managed without her personal supervision; after a few years' +work here they would go east for little Majorie's education; why should +two lives be broken?--and so I went on. + +He listened carefully, even eagerly. + +'You make a good case,' he said, with a slight smile. 'I will take time. +Perhaps you are right. The light will come. Surely it will come. But,' +and here he sprang up and stretched his arms to full length above his +head, 'I am not sorry; whatever comes I am not sorry. It is great to +have her love, but greater to love her as I do. Thank God! nothing can +take that away. I am willing, glad to suffer for the joy of loving her.' + +Next morning, before I was awake, he was gone, leaving a note for me:-- + + +'MY DEAR CONNOR,--I am due at the Landing. When I see you again I think +my way will be clear. Now all is dark. At times I am a coward, and +often, as you sometimes kindly inform me, an ass; but I hope I may never +become a mule. + +I am willing to be led, or want to be, at any rate. I must do the +best--not second best--for her, for me. The best only is God's +will. What else would you have? Be good to her these days, dear old +fellow.--Yours, CRAIG.' + + +How often those words have braced me he will never know, but I am a +better man for them: 'The best only is God's will. What else would you +have?' I resolved I would rage and fret no more, and that I would worry +Mrs. Mavor with no more argument or expostulation, but, as my friend had +asked, 'Be good to her.' + + +CHAPTER XII + +LOVE IS NOT ALL + + +Those days when we were waiting Craig's return we spent in the woods +or on the mountain sides, or down in the canyon beside the stream that +danced down to meet the Black Rock river, I talking and sketching and +reading, and she listening and dreaming, with often a happy smile upon +her face. But there were moments when a cloud of shuddering fear would +sweep the smile away, and then I would talk of Craig till the smile came +back again. + +But the woods and the mountains and the river were her best, her wisest, +friends during those days. How sweet the ministry of the woods to her! +The trees were in their new summer leaves, fresh and full of life. They +swayed and rustled above us, flinging their interlacing shadows upon +us, and their swaying and their rustling soothed and comforted like the +voice and touch of a mother. And the mountains, too, in all the glory of +their varying robes of blues and purples, stood calmly, solemnly about +us, uplifting our souls into regions of rest. The changing lights and +shadows flitted swiftly over their rugged fronts, but left them ever as +before in their steadfast majesty. 'God's in His heaven.' What would you +have? And ever the little river sang its cheerful courage, fearing not +the great mountains that threatened to bar its passage to the sea. Mrs. +Mavor heard the song and her courage rose. + +'We too shall find our way,' she said, and I believed her. + +But through these days I could not make her out, and I found myself +studying her as I might a new acquaintance. Years had fallen from her; +she was a girl again, full of young warm life. She was as sweet as +before, but there was a soft shyness over her, a half-shamed, half-frank +consciousness in her face, a glad light in her eyes that made her all +new to me. Her perfect trust in Craig was touching to see. + +'He will tell me what to do,' she would say, till I began to realise how +impossible it would be for him to betray such trust, and be anything but +true to the best. + +So much did I dread Craig's home-coming, that I sent for Graeme and +old man Nelson, who was more and more Graeme's trusted counsellor and +friend. They were both highly excited by the story I had to tell, for I +thought it best to tell them all; but I was not a little surprised +and disgusted that they did not see the matter in my light. In vain I +protested against the madness of allowing anything to send these two +from each other. Graeme summed up the discussion in his own emphatic +way, but with an earnestness in his words not usual with him. + +'Craig will know better than any of us what is right to do, and he will +do that, and no man can turn him from it; and,' he added, 'I should be +sorry to try.' + +Then my wrath rose, and I cried-- + +'It's a tremendous shame! They love each other. You are talking +sentimental humbug and nonsense!' + +'He must do the right,' said Nelson in his deep, quiet voice. + +'Right! Nonsense! By what right does he send from him the woman he +loves?' + +'"He pleased not Himself,"' quoted Nelson reverently. + +'Nelson is right,' said Graeme. 'I should not like to see him weaken.' + +'Look here,' I stormed; 'I didn't bring you men to back him up in his +nonsense. I thought you could keep your heads level.' + +'Now, Connor,' said Graeme, 'don't rage--leave that for the heathen; +it's bad form, and useless besides. Craig will walk his way where his +light falls; and by all that's holy, I should hate to see him fail; for +if he weakens like the rest of us my North Star will have dropped from +my sky.' + +'Nice selfish spirit,' I muttered. + +'Entirely so. I'm not a saint, but I feel like steering by one when I +see him.' + +When after a week had gone, Craig rode up one early morning to his shack +door, his face told me that he had fought his fight and had not been +beaten. He had ridden all night and was ready to drop with weariness. + +'Connor, old boy,' he said, putting out his hand; 'I'm rather played. +There was a bad row at the Landing. I have just closed poor Colley's +eyes. It was awful. I must get sleep. Look after Dandy, will you, like a +good chap?' + +'Oh, Dandy be hanged,!' I said, for I knew it was not the fight, nor the +watching, nor the long ride that had shaken his iron nerve and given him +that face. 'Go in and lie down I'll bring you something.' + +'Wake me in the afternoon,' he said; 'she is waiting. Perhaps you will +go to her'--his lips quivered--'my nerve is rather gone.' Then with a +very wan smile he added, 'I am giving you a lot of trouble.' + +'You go to thunder!' I burst out, for my throat was hot and sore with +grief for him. + +'I think I'd rather go to sleep,' he replied, still smiling. I could not +speak, and was glad of the chance of being alone with Dandy. + +When I came in I found him sitting with his head in his arms upon the +table fast asleep. I made him tea, forced him to take a warm bath, +and sent him to bed, while I went to Mrs. Mavor. I went with a fearful +heart, but that was because I had forgotten the kind of woman she was. + +She was standing in the light of the window waiting for me. Her face +was pale but steady, there was a proud light in her fathomless eyes, a +slight smile parted her lips, and she carried her head like a queen. + +'Come in,' she said. 'You need not fear to tell me. I saw him ride home. +He has not failed, thank God! I am proud of him; I knew he would be +true. He loves me'--she drew in her breath sharply, and a faint colour +tinged her cheek--'but he knows love is not all--ah, love is not all! +Oh! I am glad and proud!' + +'Glad!' I gasped, amazed. + +'You would not have him prove faithless!' she said with proud defiance. + +'Oh, it is high sentimental nonsense,' I could not help saying. + +'You should not say so,' she replied, and her voice rang clear. 'Honour, +faith, and duty are sentiments, but they are not nonsense.' + +In spite of my rage I was lost in amazed admiration of the high spirit +of the woman who stood up so straight before me. But, as I told how worn +and broken he was, she listened with changing colour and swelling bosom, +her proud courage all gone, and only love, anxious and pitying, in her +eyes. + +'Shall I go to him?' she asked with timid eagerness and deepening +colour. + +'He is sleeping. He said he would come to you,' I replied. + +'I shall wait for him,' she said softly, and the tenderness in her tone +went straight to my heart, and it seemed to me a man might suffer much +to be loved with love such as this. + +In the early afternoon Graeme came to her. She met him with both hands +outstretched, saying in a low voice-- + +'I am very happy.' + +'Are you sure?' he asked anxiously. + +'Oh, yes,' she said, but her voice was like a sob; 'quite, quite sure.' + +They talked long together till I saw that Craig must soon be coming, and +I called Graeme away. He held her hands, looking steadily into her eyes +and said-- + +'You are better even than I thought; I'm going to be a better man.' + +Her eyes filled with tears, but her smile did not fade as she answered-- + +'Yes! you will be a good man, and God will give you work to do.' + +He bent his head over her hands and stepped back from her as from a +queen, but he spoke no word till we came to Craig's door. Then he said +with humility that seemed strange in him, 'Connor, that is great, to +conquer oneself. It is worth while. I am going to try.' + +I would not have missed his meeting with Craig. Nelson was busy with +tea. Craig was writing near the window. He looked up as Graeme came in, +and nodded an easy good-evening; but Graeme strode to him and, putting +one hand on his shoulder, held out his other for Craig to take. + +After a moment's surprise, Craig rose to his feet, and, facing him +squarely, took the offered hand in both of his and held it fast without +a word. Graeme was the first to speak, and his voice was deep with +emotion-- + +'You are a great man, a good man. I'd give something to have your grit.' + +Poor Craig stood looking at him, not daring to speak for some moments, +then he said quietly-- + +'Not good nor great, but, thank God, not quite a traitor.' + +'Good man!' went on Graeme, patting him on the shoulder. 'Good man! But +it's tough.' + +Craig sat down quickly, saying, 'Don't do that, old chap!' + +I went up with Craig to Mrs. Mavor's door. She did not hear us coming, +but stood near the window gazing up at the mountains. She was dressed in +some rich soft stuff, and wore at her breast a bunch of wild-flowers. I +had never seen her so beautiful. I did not wonder that Craig paused with +his foot upon the threshold to look at her. She turned and saw us. +With a glad cry, 'Oh! my darling; you have come to me,' she came with +outstretched arms. I turned and fled, but the cry and the vision were +long with me. + +It was decided that night that Mrs. Mavor should go the next week. A +miner and his wife were going east, and I too would join the party. + +The camp went into mourning at the news; but it was understood that +any display of grief before Mrs. Mavor was bad form. She was not to be +annoyed. + +But when I suggested that she should leave quietly, and avoid the pain +of saying good-bye, she flatly refused-- + +'I must say good-bye to every man. They love me and I love them.' + +It was decided, too, at first, that there should be nothing in the way +of a testimonial, but when Craig found out that the men were coming to +her with all sorts of extraordinary gifts, he agreed that it would +be better that they should unite in one gift. So it was agreed that I +should buy a ring for her. And were it not that the contributions were +strictly limited to one dollar, the purse that Slavin handed her when +Shaw read the address at the farewell supper would have been many times +filled with the gold that was pressed upon the committee. There were no +speeches at the supper, except one by myself in reply on Mrs. Mavor's +behalf. She had given me the words to say, and I was thoroughly +prepared, else I should not have got through. I began in the usual +way: 'Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen, Mrs. Mavor is--' but I got no +further, for at the mention of her name the men stood on the chairs and +yelled until they could yell no more. There were over two hundred and +fifty of them, and the effect was overpowering. But I got through my +speech. I remember it well. It began-- + +'Mrs. Mavor is greatly touched by this mark of your love, and she will +wear your ring always with pride.' And it ended with-- + +'She has one request to make, that you will be true to the League, and +that you stand close about the man who did most to make it. She wishes +me to say that however far away she may have to go, she is leaving her +heart in Black Rock, and she can think of no greater joy than to come +back to you again.' + +Then they had 'The Sweet By and By,' but the men would not join in the +refrain, unwilling to lose a note of the glorious voice they loved to +hear. Before the last verse she beckoned to me. I went to her standing +by Craig's side as he played for her. 'Ask them to sing,' she entreated; +'I cannot bear it.' + +'Mrs. Mavor wishes you to sing in the refrain,' I said, and at once the +men sat up and cleared their throats. The singing was not good, but at +the first sound of the hoarse notes of the men Craig's head went down +over the organ, for he was thinking I suppose of the days before them +when they would long in vain for that thrilling voice that soared high +over their own hoarse tones. And after the voices died away he kept +on playing till, half turning toward him, she sang alone once more the +refrain in a voice low and sweet and tender, as if for him alone. And +so he took it, for he smiled up at her his old smile full of courage and +full of love. + +Then for one whole hour she stood saying good-bye to those rough, +gentle-hearted men whose inspiration to goodness she had been for five +years. It was very wonderful and very quiet. It was understood that +there was to be no nonsense, and Abe had been heard to declare that he +would 'throw out any cotton-backed fool who couldn't hold himself down,' +and further, he had enjoined them to remember that 'her arm wasn't a +pump-handle.' + +At last they were all gone, all but her guard of honour--Shaw, Vernon +Winton, Geordie, Nixon, Abe, Nelson, Craig, and myself. + +This was the real farewell; for, though in the early light of the next +morning two hundred men stood silent about the stage, and then as it +moved out waved their hats and yelled madly, this was the last touch +they had of her hand. Her place was up on the driver's seat between Abe +and Mr. Craig, who held little Marjorie on his knee. The rest of the +guard of honour were to follow with Graeme's team. It was Winton's +fine sense that kept Graeme from following them close. 'Let her go out +alone,' he said, and so we held back and watched her go. + +She stood with her back towards Abe's plunging four-horse team, and +steadying herself with one hand on Abe's shoulder, gazed down upon us. +Her head was bare, her lips parted in a smile, her eyes glowing with +their own deep light; and so, facing us, erect and smiling, she drove +away, waving us farewell till Abe swung his team into the canyon road +and we saw her no more. A sigh shuddered through the crowd, and, with a +sob in his voice, Winton said: 'God help us all.' + +I close my eyes and see it all again. The waving crowd of dark-faced +men, the plunging horses, and, high up beside the driver, the swaying, +smiling, waving figure, and about all the mountains, framing the picture +with their dark sides and white peaks tipped with the gold of the rising +sun. It is a picture I love to look upon, albeit it calls up another +that I can never see but through tears. + +I look across a strip of ever-widening water, at a group of men upon the +wharf, standing with heads uncovered, every man a hero, though not a man +of them suspects it, least of all the man who stands in front, strong, +resolute, self-conquered. And, gazing long, I think I see him turn again +to his place among the men of the mountains, not forgetting, but every +day remembering the great love that came to him, and remembering, too, +that love is not all. It is then the tears come. + +But for that picture two of us at least are better men to-day. + + +CHAPTER XIII + +HOW NELSON CAME HOME + + +Through the long summer the mountains and the pines were with me. And +through the winter, too, busy as I was filling in my Black Rock sketches +for the railway people who would still persist in ordering them by the +dozen, the memory of that stirring life would come over me, and once +more I would be among the silent pines and the mighty snow-peaked +mountains. And before me would appear the red-shirted shantymen or +dark-faced miners, great, free, bold fellows, driving me almost mad with +the desire to seize and fix those swiftly changing groups of picturesque +figures. At such times I would drop my sketch, and with eager brush +seize a group, a face, a figure, and that is how my studio comes to be +filled with the men of Black Rock. There they are all about me. Graeme +and the men from the woods, Sandy, Baptiste, the Campbells, and in many +attitudes and groups old man Nelson; Craig, too, and his miners, Shaw, +Geordie, Nixon, and poor old Billy and the keeper of the League saloon. + +It seemed as if I lived among them, and the illusion was greatly helped +by the vivid letters Graeme sent me from time to time. Brief notes came +now and then from Craig too, to whom I had sent a faithful account of +how I had brought Mrs. Mavor to her ship, and of how I had watched her +sail away with none too brave a face, as she held up her hand that bore +the miners' ring, and smiled with that deep light in her eyes. Ah! +those eyes have driven me to despair and made me fear that I am no great +painter after all, in spite of what my friends tell me who come in to +smoke my good cigars and praise my brush. I can get the brow and hair, +and mouth and pose, but the eyes! the eyes elude me--and the faces of +Mrs. Mavor on my wall, that the men praise and rave over, are not such +as I could show to any of the men from the mountains. + +Graeme's letters tell me chiefly about Craig and his doings, and about +old man Nelson; while from Craig I hear about Graeme, and how he and +Nelson are standing at his back, and doing what they can to fill the gap +that never can be filled. The three are much together, I can see, and I +am glad for them all, but chiefly for Craig, whose face, grief-stricken +but resolute, and often gentle as a woman's, will not leave me nor let +me rest in peace. + +The note of thanks he sent me was entirely characteristic. There were +no heroics, much less pining or self-pity. It was simple and manly, not +ignoring the pain but making much of the joy. And then they had their +work to do. That note, so clear, so manly, so nobly sensible, stiffens +my back yet at times. + +In the spring came the startling news that Black Rock would soon be +no more. The mines were to close down on April 1. The company, having +allured the confiding public with enticing descriptions of marvellous +drifts, veins, assays, and prospects, and having expended vast sums of +the public's money in developing the mines till the assurance of their +reliability was absolutely final, calmly shut down and vanished. With +their vanishing vanishes Black Rock, not without loss and much deep +cursing on the part of the men brought some hundreds of miles to aid the +company in its extraordinary and wholly inexplicable game. + +Personally it grieved me to think that my plan of returning to Black +Rock could never be carried out. It was a great compensation, however, +that the three men most representative to me of that life were soon to +visit me actually in my own home and den. Graeme's letter said that in +one month they might be expected to appear. At least he and Nelson were +soon to come, and Craig would soon follow. + +On receiving the great news, I at once looked up young Nelson and +his sister, and we proceeded to celebrate the joyful prospect with a +specially good dinner. I found the greatest delight in picturing the +joy and pride of the old man in his children, whom he had not seen for +fifteen or sixteen years. The mother had died some five years before, +then the farm was sold, and the brother and sister came into the city; +and any father might be proud of them. The son was a well-made young +fellow, handsome enough, thoughtful, and solid-looking. The girl +reminded me of her father. The same resolution was seen in mouth and +jaw, and the same passion slumbered in the dark grey eyes. She was not +beautiful, but she carried herself well, and one would always look at +her twice. It would be worth something to see the meeting between father +and daughter. + +But fate, the greatest artist of us all, takes little count of the +careful drawing and the bright colouring of our fancy's pictures, but +with rude hand deranges all, and with one swift sweep paints out the +bright and paints in the dark. And this trick he served me when, one +June night, after long and anxious waiting for some word from the west, +my door suddenly opened and Graeme walked in upon me like a spectre, +grey and voiceless. My shout of welcome was choked back by the look in +his face, and I could only gaze at him and wait for his word. He gripped +my hand, tried to speak, but failed to make words come. + +'Sit down, old man,' I said, pushing, him into my chair, 'and take your +time.' + +He obeyed, looking up at me with burning, sleepless eyes. My heart was +sore for his misery, and I said: 'Don't mind, old chap; it can't be so +awfully bad. You're here safe and sound at any rate,' and so I went on +to give him time. But he shuddered and looked round and groaned. + +'Now look here, Graeme, let's have it. When did you land here? Where is +Nelson? Why didn't you bring him up?' + +'He is at the station in his coffin,' he answered slowly. + +'In his coffin?' I echoed, my beautiful pictures all vanishing. 'How was +it?' + +'Through my cursed folly,' he groaned bitterly. + +'What happened?' I asked. But ignoring my question, he said: 'I must see +his children. I have not slept for four nights. I hardly know what I +am doing; but I can't rest till I see his children. I promised him. Get +them for me.' + +'To-morrow will do. Go to sleep now, and we shall arrange everything +to-morrow,' I urged. + +'No!' he said fiercely; 'to-night--now!' + +In half an hour they were listening, pale and grief-stricken, to the +story of their father's death. + +Poor Graeme was relentless in his self-condemnation as he told how, +through his 'cursed folly,' old Nelson was killed. The three, Craig, +Graeme, and Nelson, had come as far as Victoria together. There they +left Craig, and came on to San Francisco. In an evil hour Graeme met a +companion of other and evil days, and it was not long till the old fever +came upon him. + +In vain Nelson warned and pleaded. The reaction from the monotony and +poverty of camp life to the excitement and luxury of the San Francisco +gaming palaces swung Graeme quite off his feet, and all that Nelson +could do was to follow from place to place and keep watch. + +'And there he would sit,' said Graeme in a hard, bitter voice, 'waiting +and watching often till the grey morning light, while my madness held me +fast to the table. One night,' here he paused a moment, put his face in +his hands and shuddered; but quickly he was master of himself again, and +went on in the same hard voice--'One night my partner and I were playing +two men who had done us up before. I knew they were cheating, but could +not detect them. Game after game they won, till I was furious at my +stupidity in not being able to catch them. Happening to glance at Nelson +in the corner, I caught a meaning look, and looking again, he threw me +a signal. I knew at once what the fraud was, and next game charged the +fellow with it. He gave me the lie; I struck his mouth, but before +I could draw my gun, his partner had me by the arms. What followed I +hardly know. While I was struggling to get free, I saw him reach for his +weapon; but, as he drew it, Nelson sprang across the table, and bore him +down. When the row was ever, three men lay on the floor. One was Nelson; +he took the shot meant for me.' + +Again the story paused. + +'And the man that shot him?' + +I started at the intense fierceness in the voice, and, looking upon the +girl, saw her eyes blazing with a terrible light. + +'He is dead,' answered Graeme indifferently. + +'You killed him?' she asked eagerly. + +Graeme looked at her curiously, and answered slowly-- + +'I did not mean to. He came at me. I struck him harder than I knew. He +never moved.' + +She drew a sigh of satisfaction, and waited. + +'I got him to a private ward, had the best doctor in the city, and sent +for Craig to Victoria. For three days we thought he would live--he was +keen to get home; but by the time Craig came we had given up hope. Oh, +but I was thankful to see Craig come in, and the joy in the old man's +eyes was beautiful to see. There was no pain at last, and no fear. He +would not allow me to reproach myself, saying over and over, "You would +have done the same for me"--as I would, fast enough--"and it is better +me than you. I am old and done; you will do much good yet for the boys." +And he kept looking at me till I could only promise to do my best. + +'But I am glad I told him how much good he had done me during the last +year, for he seemed to think that too good to be true. And when Craig +told him how he had helped the boys in the camp, and how Sandy and +Baptiste and the Campbells would always be better men for his life +among them, the old man's face actually shone, as if light were coming +through. And with surprise and joy he kept on saying, "Do you think +so? Do you think so? Perhaps so, perhaps so." At the last he talked of +Christmas night at the camp. You were there, you remember. Craig had +been holding a service, and something happened, I don't know what, but +they both knew.' + +'I know,' I said, and I saw again the picture of the old man under the +pine, upon his knees in the snow, with his face turned up to the stars. + +'Whatever it was, it was in his mind at the very last, and I can never +forget his face as he turned it to Craig. One hears of such things: +I had often, but had never put much faith in them; but joy, rapture, +triumph, these are what were in his face, as he said, his breath coming +short, "You said--He wouldn't--fail me--you were right--not once--not +once--He stuck to me--I'm glad he told me--thank God--for you--you +showed--me--I'll see Him--and--tell Him--" And Craig, kneeling beside +him so steady--I was behaving like a fool--smiled down through his +streaming tears into the dim eyes so brightly, till they could see no +more. Thank him for that! He helped the old man through, and he helped +me too, that night, thank God!' And Graeme's voice, hard till now, broke +in a sob. + +He had forgotten us, and was back beside his passing friend, and all his +self-control could not keep back the flowing tears. + +'It was his life for mine,' he said huskily. + +The brother and sister were quietly weeping, but spoke no word, though I +knew Graeme was waiting for them. + +I took up the word, and told of what I had known of Nelson, and his +influence upon the men of Black Rock. They listened eagerly enough, but +still without speaking. There seemed nothing to say, till I suggested +to Graeme that he must get some rest. Then the girl turned to him, and, +impulsively putting out her hand, said-- + +'Oh, it is all so sad; but how can we ever thank you?' + +'Thank me!' gasped Graeme. 'Can you forgive me? I brought him to his +death.' + +'No, no! You must not say so,' she answered hurriedly. 'You would have +done the same for him.' + +'God knows I would,' said Graeme earnestly; 'and God bless you for your +words!' And I was thankful to see the tears start in his dry, burning +eyes. + +We carried him to the old home in the country, that he might lie by the +side of the wife he had loved and wronged. A few friends met us at the +wayside station, and followed in sad procession along the country road, +that wound past farms and through woods, and at last up to the ascent +where the quaint, old wooden church, black with the rains and snows of +many years, stood among its silent graves. The little graveyard sloped +gently towards the setting sun, and from it one could see, far on every +side, the fields of grain and meadowland that wandered off over softly +undulating hills to meet the maple woods at the horizon, dark, green, +and cool. Here and there white farmhouses, with great barns standing +near, looked out from clustering orchards. + +Up the grass-grown walk, and through the crowding mounds, over which +waves, uncut, the long, tangling grass, we bear our friend, and let +him gently down into the kindly bosom of mother earth, dark, moist, and +warm. The sound of a distant cowbell mingles with the voice of the last +prayer; the clods drop heavily with heart-startling echo; the mound is +heaped and shaped by kindly friends, sharing with one another the +task; the long rough sods are laid over and patted into place; the old +minister takes farewell in a few words of gentle sympathy; the brother +and sister, with lingering looks at the two graves side by side, the old +and the new, step into the farmer's carriage, and drive away; the sexton +locks the gate and goes home, and we are left outside alone. + +Then we went back and stood by Nelson's grave. + +After a long silence Graeme spoke. + +'Connor, he did not grudge his life to me--and I think'--and here the +words came slowly--'I understand now what that means, "Who loved me and +gave Himself for me."' + +Then taking off his hat, he said reverently, 'By God's help Nelson's +life shall not end, but shall go on. Yes, old man!' looking down upon +the grave, 'I'm with you'; and lifting up his face to the calm sky, 'God +help me to be true.' + +Then he turned and walked briskly away, as one might who had pressing +business, or as soldiers march from a comrade's grave to a merry tune, +not that they have forgotten, but they have still to fight. + +And this was the way old man Nelson came home. + + +CHAPTERS XIV. + +GRAEME'S NEW BIRTH + + +There was more left in that grave than old man Nelson's dead body. It +seemed to me that Graeme left part, at least, of his old self there, +with his dead friend and comrade, in the quiet country churchyard. I +waited long for the old careless, reckless spirit to appear, but he was +never the same again. The change was unmistakable, but hard to define. +He seemed to have resolved his life into a definite purpose. He was +hardly so comfortable a fellow to be with; he made me feel even more +lazy and useless than was my wont; but I respected him more, and liked +him none the less. As a lion he was not a success. He would not roar. +This was disappointing to me, and to his friends and mine, who had been +waiting his return with eager expectation of tales of thrilling and +bloodthirsty adventure. + +His first days were spent in making right, or as nearly right as he +could, the break that drove him to the west. His old firm (and I have +had more respect for the humanity of lawyers ever since) behaved really +well. They proved the restoration of their confidence in his integrity +and ability by offering him a place in the firm, which, however, he +would not accept. Then, when he felt clean, as he said, he posted off +home, taking me with him. During the railway journey of four hours he +hardly spoke; but when we had left the town behind, and had fairly +got upon the country road that led toward the home ten miles away, his +speech came to him in a great flow. His spirits ran over. He was like a +boy returning from his first college term. His very face wore the boy's +open, innocent, earnest look that used to attract men to him in his +first college year. His delight in the fields and woods, in the sweet +country air and the sunlight, was without bound. How often had we driven +this road together in the old days! + +Every turn was familiar. The swamp where the tamaracks stood straight +and slim out of their beds of moss; the brule, as we used to call it, +where the pine-stumps, huge and blackened, were half-hidden by the new +growth of poplars and soft maples; the big hill, where we used to get +out and walk when the roads were bad; the orchards, where the harvest +apples were best and most accessible--all had their memories. + +It was one of those perfect afternoons that so often come in the early +Canadian summer, before Nature grows weary with the heat. The white +gravel road was trimmed on either side with turf of living green, close +cropped by the sheep that wandered in flocks along its whole length. +Beyond the picturesque snake-fences stretched the fields of springing +grain, of varying shades of green, with here and there a dark brown +patch, marking a turnip field or summer fallow, and far back were the +woods of maple and beech and elm, with here and there the tufted top of +a mighty pine, the lonely representative of a vanished race, standing +clear above the humbler trees. + +As we drove through the big swamp, where the yawning, haunted gully +plunges down to its gloomy depths, Graeme reminded me of that night when +our horse saw something in that same gully, and refused to go past; and +I felt again, though it was broad daylight, something of the grue that +shivered down my back, as I saw in the moonlight the gleam of a white +thing far through the pine trunks. + +As we came nearer home the houses became familiar. Every house had its +tale: we had eaten or slept in most of them; we had sampled apples, and +cherries, and plums from their orchards, openly as guests, or secretly +as marauders, under cover of night--the more delightful way, I fear. +Ah! happy days, with these innocent crimes and fleeting remorses, how +bravely we faced them, and how gaily we lived them, and how yearningly +we look back at them now! The sun was just dipping into the tree-tops +of the distant woods behind as we came to the top of the last hill that +overlooked the valley, in which lay the village of Riverdale. Wooded +hills stood about it on three sides, and, where the hills faded out, +there lay the mill-pond sleeping and smiling in the sun. Through the +village ran the white road, up past the old frame church, and on to the +white manse standing among the trees. That was Graeme's home, and mine +too, for I had never known another worthy of the name. We held up our +team to look down over the valley, with its rampart of wooded hills, its +shining pond, and its nestling village, and on past to the church and +the white manse, hiding among the trees. The beauty, the peace, the +warm, loving homeliness of the scene came about our hearts, but, being +men, we could find no words. + +'Let's go,' cried Graeme, and down the hill we tore and rocked and +swayed to the amazement of the steady team, whose education from +the earliest years had impressed upon their minds the criminality of +attempting to do anything but walk carefully down a hill, at least +for two-thirds of the way. Through the village, in a cloud of dust, +we swept, catching a glimpse of a well-known face here and there, and +flinging a salutation as we passed, leaving the owner of the face rooted +to his place in astonishment at the sight of Graeme whirling on in his +old-time, well-known reckless manner. Only old Dunc. M'Leod was equal to +the moment, for as Graeme called out, 'Hello, Dunc.!' the old man lifted +up his hands, and called back in an awed voice: 'Bless my soul! is it +yourself?' + +'Stands his whisky well, poor old chap!' was Graeme's comment. + +As we neared the church he pulled up his team, and we went quietly past +the sleepers there, then again on the full run down the gentle slope, +over the little brook, and up to the gate. He had hardly got his team +pulled up before, flinging me the lines, he was out over the wheel, for +coming down the walk, with her hands lifted high, was a dainty little +lady, with the face of an angel. In a moment Graeme had her in his arms. +I heard the faint cry, 'My boy, my boy,' and got down on the other side +to attend to my off horse, surprised to find my hands trembling and my +eyes full of tears. Back upon the steps stood an old gentleman, with +white hair and flowing beard, handsome, straight, and stately--Graeme's +father, waiting his turn. + +'Welcome home, my lad,' was his greeting, as he kissed his son, and the +tremor of his voice, and the sight of the two men kissing each other, +like women, sent me again to my horses' heads. + +'There's Connor, mother!' shouted out Graeme, and the dainty little +lady, in her black silk and white lace, came out to me quickly, with +outstretched hands. + +'You, too, are welcome home,' she said, and kissed me. + +I stood with my hat off, saying something about being glad to come, +but wishing that I could get away before I should make quite a fool of +myself. For as I looked down upon that beautiful face, pale, except for +a faint flush upon each faded cheek, and read the story of pain endured +and conquered, and as I thought of all the long years of waiting and +of vain hoping, I found my throat dry and sore, and the words would not +come. But her quick sense needed no words, and she came to my help. + +'You will find Jack at the stable,' she said, smiling; 'he ought to have +been here.' + +The stable! Why had I not thought of that before? Thankfully now my +words came-- + +'Yes, certainly, I'll find him, Mrs. Graeme. I suppose he's as much of +a scapegrace as ever, and off I went to look up Graeme's young brother, +who had given every promise in the old days of developing into as +stirring a rascal as one could desire; but who, as I found out later, +had not lived these years in his mother's home for nothing. + +'Oh, Jack's a good boy,' she answered, smiling again, as she turned +toward the other two, now waiting for her upon the walk. + +The week that followed was a happy one for us all; but for the mother it +was full to the brim with joy. Her sweet face was full of content, and +in her eyes rested a great peace. Our days were spent driving about +among the hills, or strolling through the maple woods, or down into the +tamarack swamp, where the pitcher plants and the swamp lilies and the +marigold waved above the deep moss. In the evenings we sat under the +trees on the lawn till the stars came out and the night dews drove us +in. Like two lovers, Graeme and his mother would wander off together, +leaving Jack and me to each other. Jack was reading for divinity, and +was really a fine, manly fellow, with all his brother's turn for rugby, +and I took to him amazingly; but after the day was over we would gather +about the supper table, and the talk would be of all things under +heaven--art, football, theology. The mother would lead in all. How quick +she was, how bright her fancy, how subtle her intellect, and through all +a gentle grace, very winning and beautiful to see! + +Do what I would, Graeme would talk little of the mountains and his life +there. + +'My lion will not roar, Mrs. Graeme,' I complained; 'he simply will +not.' + +'You should twist his tail,' said Jack. + +'That seems to be the difficulty, Jack,' said his mother, 'to get hold +of his tale.' + +'Oh, mother,' groaned Jack; 'you never did such a thing before! How +could you? Is it this baleful Western influence?' + +'I shall reform, Jack,' she replied brightly. + +'But, seriously, Graeme,' I remonstrated, 'you ought to tell your people +of your life--that free, glorious life in the mountains.' + +'Free! Glorious! To some men, perhaps!' said Graeme, and then fell into +silence. + +But I saw Graeme as a new man the night he talked theology with his +father. The old minister was a splendid Calvinist, of heroic type, and +as he discoursed of God's sovereignty and election, his face glowed and +his voice rang out. + +Graeme listened intently, now and then putting in a question, as one +would a keen knife-thrust into a foe. But the old man knew his ground, +and moved easily among his ideas, demolishing the enemy as he appeared, +with jaunty grace. In the full flow of his triumphant argument, Graeme +turned to him with sudden seriousness. + +'Look here, father! I was born a Calvinist, and I can't see how any one +with a level head can hold anything else, than that the Almighty has +some idea as to how He wants to run His universe, and He means to carry +out His idea, and is carrying it out; but what would you do in a case +like this?' Then he told him the story of poor Billy Breen, his fight +and his defeat. + +'Would you preach election to that chap?' + +The mother's eyes were shining with tears. + +The old gentleman blew his nose like a trumpet, and then said gravely-- + +'No, my boy, you don't feed babes with meat. But what came to him?' + +Then Graeme asked me to finish the tale. After I had finished the +story of Billy's final triumph and of Craig's part in it, they sat long +silent, till the minister, clearing his throat hard and blowing his nose +more like a trumpet than ever, said with great emphasis-- + +'Thank God for such a man in such a place! I wish there were more of us +like him.' + +'I should like to see you out there, sir,' said Graeme admiringly; +'you'd get them, but you wouldn't have time for election.' + +'Yes, yes!' said his father warmly; 'I should love to have a chance +just to preach election to these poor lads. Would I were twenty years +younger!' + +'It is worth a man's life,' said Graeme earnestly. His younger brother +turned his face eagerly toward the mother. For answer she slipped her +hand into his and said softly, while her eyes shone like stars-- + +'Some day, Jack, perhaps! God knows.' But Jack only looked steadily at +her, smiling a little and patting her hand. + +'You'd shine there, mother,' said Graeme, smiling upon her; 'you'd +better come with me.' She started, and said faintly-- + +'With you?' It was the first hint he had given of his purpose. 'You are +going back?' + +'What! as a missionary?' said Jack. + +'Not to preach, Jack; I'm not orthodox enough,' looking at his father +and shaking his head; 'but to build railroads and lend a hand to some +poor chap, if I can.' + +'Could you not find work nearer home, my boy?' asked the father; 'there +is plenty of both kinds near us here, surely.' + +'Lots of work, but not mine, I fear,' answered Graeme, keeping his eyes +away from his mother's face. 'A man must do his own work.' + +His voice was quiet and resolute, and glancing at the beautiful face at +the end of the table, I saw in the pale lips and yearning eyes that the +mother was offering up her firstborn, that ancient sacrifice. But not +all the agony of sacrifice could wring from her entreaty or complaint +in the hearing of her sons. That was for other ears and for the silent +hours of the night. And next morning when she came down to meet us her +face was wan and weary, but it wore the peace of victory and a glory not +of earth. Her greeting was full of dignity, sweet and gentle; but when +she came to Graeme she lingered over him and kissed him twice. And that +was all that any of us ever saw of that sore fight. + +At the end of the week I took leave of them, and last of all of the +mother. + +She hesitated just a moment, then suddenly put her hands upon my +shoulders and kissed me, saying softly, 'You are his friend; you will +sometimes come to me?' + +'Gladly, if I may,' I hastened to answer, for the sweet, brave face was +too much to bear; and, till she left us for that world of which she was +a part, I kept my word, to my own great and lasting good. When Graeme +met me in the city at the end of the summer, he brought me her love, and +then burst forth-- + +'Connor, do you know, I have just discovered my mother! I have never +known her till this summer.' + +'More fool you,' I answered, for often had I, who had never known a +mother, envied him his. + +'Yes, that is true,' he answered slowly; 'but you cannot see until you +have eyes.' + +Before he set out again for the west I gave him a supper, asking the men +who had been with us in the old 'Varsity days. I was doubtful as to the +wisdom of this, and was persuaded only by Graeme's eager assent to my +proposal. + +'Certainly, let's have them,' he said; 'I shall be awfully glad to see +them; great stuff they were.' + +'But, I don't know, Graeme; you see--well--hang it!--you know--you're +different, you know.' + +He looked at me curiously. + +'I hope I can still stand a good supper, and if the boys can't stand me, +why, I can't help it. I'll do anything but roar, and don't you begin to +work off your menagerie act--now, you hear me!' + +'Well, it is rather hard lines that when I have been talking up my lion +for a year, and then finally secure him, that he will not roar.' + +'Serve you right,' he replied, quite heartlessly; 'but I'll tell you +what I'll do, I'll feed! Don't you worry,' he adds soothingly; 'the +supper will go.' + +And go it did. The supper was of the best; the wines first-class. I had +asked Graeme about the wines. + +'Do as you like, old man,' was his answer; 'it's your supper, but,' he +added, 'are the men all straight?' + +I ran them over in my mind. + +'Yes; I think so.' + +If not, don't you help them down; and anyway, you can't be too careful. +But don't mind me; I am quit of the whole business from this out.' So I +ventured wines, for the last time, as it happened. + +We were a quaint combination. Old 'Beetles,' whose nickname was +prophetic of his future fame as a bugman, as the fellows irreverently +said; 'Stumpy' Smith, a demon bowler; Polly Lindsay, slow as ever and as +sure as when he held the half-back line with Graeme, and used to make my +heart stand still with terror at his cool deliberation. But he was +never known to fumble nor to funk, and somehow he always got us out safe +enough. Then there was Rattray--'Rat' for short--who, from a swell, had +developed into a cynic with a sneer, awfully clever and a good enough +fellow at heart. Little 'Wig' Martin, the sharpest quarter ever seen, +and big Barney Lundy, centre scrimmage, whose terrific roar and rush had +often struck terror to the enemy's heart, and who was Graeme's slave. +Such was the party. + +As the supper went on my fears began to vanish, for if Graeme did not +'roar,' he did the next best thing--ate and talked quite up to his +old form. Now we played our matches over again, bitterly lamenting the +'if's' that had lost us the championships, and wildly approving the +tackles that had saved, and the runs that had made the 'Varsity crowd go +mad with delight and had won for us. And as their names came up in talk, +we learned how life had gone with those who had been our comrades of ten +years ago. Some, success had lifted to high places; some, failure had +left upon the rocks, and a few lay in their graves. + +But as the evening wore on, I began to wish that I had left out the +wines, for the men began to drop an occasional oath, though I had let +them know during the summer that Graeme was not the man he had been. But +Graeme smoked and talked and heeded not, till Rattray swore by that name +most sacred of all ever borne by man. Then Graeme opened upon him in a +cool, slow way-- + +'What an awful fool a man is, to damn things as you do, Rat. Things are +not damned. It is men who are; and that is too bad to be talked much +about but when a man flings out of his foul mouth the name of Jesus +Christ'--here he lowered his voice--'it's a shame--it's more, it's a +crime.' + +There was dead silence, then Rattray replied-- + +'I suppose you're right enough, it is bad form; but crime is rather +strong, I think.' + +'Not if you consider who it is,' said Graeme with emphasis. + +'Oh, come now,' broke in Beetles. 'Religion is all right, is a good +thing, and I believe a necessary thing for the race, but no one takes +seriously any longer the Christ myth.' + +'What about your mother, Beetles?' put in Wig Martin. + +Beetles consigned him to the pit and was silent, for his father was an +Episcopal clergyman, and his mother a saintly woman. + +'I fooled with that for some time, Beetles, but it won't do. You can't +build a religion that will take the devil out of a man on a myth. That +won't do the trick. I don't want to argue about it, but I am quite +convinced the myth theory is not reasonable, and besides, it wont work.' + +'Will the other work?' asked Rattray, with a sneer. + +'Sure!' said Grame; 'I've seen it.' + +'Where?' challenged Rattray. 'I haven't seen much of it.' + +'Yes, you have, Rattray, you know you have,' said Wig again. But Rattray +ignored him. + +'I'll tell you, boys,' said Graeme. 'I want you to know, anyway, why I +believe what I do.' + +Then he told them the story of old man Nelson, from the old coast days, +before I knew him, to the end. He told the story well. The stern fight +and the victory of the life, and the self-sacrifice and the pathos of +the death appealed to these men, who loved fight and could understand +sacrifice. + +'That's why I believe in Jesus Christ, and that's why I think it a crime +to fling His name about!' + +'I wish to Heaven I could say that,' said Beetles. + +'Keep wishing hard enough and it will come to you,' said Graeme. + +'Look here, old chap,' said Rattray; 'you're quite right about this; +I'm willing to own up. Wig is correct. I know a few, at least, of that +stamp, but most of those who go in for that sort of thing are not much +account' + +'For ten years, Rattray,' said Graeme in a downright, matter-of-fact +way, 'you and I have tried this sort of thing'--tapping a bottle--'and +we got out of it all there is to be got, paid well for it, too, +and--faugh! you know it's not good enough, and the more you go in for +it, the more you curse yourself. So I have quit this and I am going in +for the other.' + +'What! going in for preaching?' + +'Not much--railroading--money in it--and lending a hand to fellows on +the rocks.' + +'I say, don't you want a centre forward?' said big Barney in his deep +voice. + +'Every man must play his game in his place, old chap. I'd like to see +you tackle it, though, right well,' said Graeme earnestly. And so he +did, in the after years, and good tackling it was. But that is another +story. + +'But, I say, Graeme,' persisted Beetles, 'about this business, do you +mean to say you go the whole thing--Jonah, you know, and the rest of +it?' + +Graeme hesitated, then said-- + +'I haven't much of a creed, Beetles; don't really know how much I +believe. But,' by this time he was standing, 'I do know that good is +good, and bad is bad, and good and bad are not the same. And I know +a man's a fool to follow the one, and a wise man to follow the other, +and,' lowering his voice, 'I believe God is at the back of a man who +wants to get done with bad. I've tried all that folly,' sweeping his +hand over the glasses and bottles, 'and all that goes with it, and I've +done with it' + +'I'll go you that far,' roared big Barney, following his old captain as +of yore. + +'Good man,' said Graeme, striking hands with him. + +'Put me down,' said little Wig cheerfully. + +Then I took up the word, for there rose before me the scene in the +League saloon, and I saw the beautiful face with the deep shining eyes, +and I was speaking for her again. I told them of Craig and his fight for +these men's lives. I told them, too, of how I had been too indolent to +begin. 'But,' I said, 'I am going this far from to-night,' and I swept +the bottles into the champagne tub. + +'I say,' said Polly Lindsay, coming up in his old style, slow but sure, +'let's all go in, say for five years.' And so we did. We didn't sign +anything, but every man shook hands with Graeme. + +And as I told Craig about this a year later, when he was on his way back +from his Old Land trip to join Graeme in the mountains, he threw up his +head in the old way and said, 'It was well done. It must have been worth +seeing. Old man Nelson's work is not done yet. Tell me again,' and he +made me go over the whole scene with all the details put in. + +But when I told Mrs. Mavor, after two years had gone, she only said, +'Old things are passed away, all things are become new'; but the light +glowed in her eyes till I could not see their colour. But all that, too, +is another story. + + +CHAPTER XV + +COMING TO THEIR OWN + + +A man with a conscience is often provoking, sometimes impossible. +Persuasion is lost upon him. He will not get angry, and he looks at one +with such a far-away expression in his face that in striving to persuade +him one feels earthly and even fiendish. At least this was my experience +with Craig. He spent a week with me just before he sailed for the Old +Land, for the purpose, as he said, of getting some of the coal dust and +other grime out of him. + +He made me angry the last night of his stay, and all the more that he +remained quite sweetly unmoved. It was a strategic mistake of mine to +tell him how Nelson came home to us, and how Graeme stood up before +the 'Varsity chaps at my supper and made his confession and confused +Rattray's easy-stepping profanity, and started his own five-year league. +For all this stirred in Craig the hero, and he was ready for all sorts +of heroic nonsense, as I called it. We talked of everything but the one +thing, and about that we said not a word till, bending low to poke my +fire and to hide my face, I plunged-- + +'You will see her, of course?' + +He made no pretence of not understanding but answered-- + +'Of course.' + +'There's really no sense in her staying over there,' I suggested. + +'And yet she is a wise woman,' he said, as if carefully considering the +question. + +'Heaps of landlords never see their tenants, and they are none the +worse.' + +'The landlords?' + +'No, the tenants.' + +'Probably, having such landlords.' + +'And as for the old lady, there must be some one in the connection to +whom it would be a Godsend to care for her.' + +'Now, Connor,' he said quietly, 'don't. We have gone over all there is +to be said. Nothing new has come. Don't turn it all up again.' + +Then I played the heathen and raged, as Graeme would have said, till +Craig smiled a little wearily and said-- + +'You exhaust yourself, old chap. Have a pipe, do'; and after a pause he +added in his own way, 'What would you have? The path lies straight from +my feet. Should I quit it? I could not so disappoint you--and all of +them.' + +And I knew he was thinking of Graeme and the lads in the mountains he +had taught to be true men. It did not help my rage, but it checked my +speech; so I smoked in silence till he was moved to say-- + +'And after all, you know, old chap, there are great compensations for +all losses; but for the loss of a good conscience towards God, what can +make up?' + +But, all the same, I hoped for some better result from his visit to +Britain. It seemed to me that something must turn up to change such an +unbearable situation. + +The year passed, however, and when I looked into Craig's face again I +knew that nothing had been changed, and that he had come back to take up +again his life alone, more resolutely hopeful than ever. + +But the year had left its mark upon him too. He was a broader and deeper +man. He had been living and thinking with men of larger ideas and +richer culture, and he was far too quick in sympathy with life to remain +untouched by his surroundings. He was more tolerant of opinions other +than his own, but more unrelenting in his fidelity to conscience and +more impatient of half-heartedness and self-indulgence. He was full of +reverence for the great scholars and the great leaders of men he had +come to know. + +'Great, noble fellows they are, and extraordinarily modest,' he +said--'that is, the really great are modest. There are plenty of the +other sort, neither great nor modest. And the books to be read! I am +quite hopeless about my reading. It gave me a queer sensation to +shake hands with a man who had written a great book. To hear him make +commonplace remarks, to witness a faltering in knowledge--one expects +these men to know everything--and to experience respectful kindness at +his hands!' + +'What of the younger men?' I asked. + +'Bright, keen, generous fellows. In things theoretical, omniscient; but +in things practical, quite helpless. They toss about great ideas as +the miners lumps of coal. They can call them by their book names easily +enough, but I often wondered whether they could put them into English. +Some of them I coveted for the mountains. Men with clear heads and big +hearts, and built after Sandy M'Naughton's model. It does seem a sinful +waste of God's good human stuff to see these fellows potter away their +lives among theories living and dead, and end up by producing a book! +They are all either making or going to make a book. A good thing we +haven't to read them. But here and there among them is some quiet chap +who will make a book that men will tumble over each other to read.' + +Then we paused and looked at each other. + +'Well?' I said. He understood me. + +'Yes!' he answered slowly, 'doing great work. Every one worships her +just as we do, and she is making them all do something worth while, as +she used to make us.' + +He spoke cheerfully and readily as if he were repeating a lesson +well learned, but he could not humbug me. I felt the heartache in the +cheerful tone. + +'Tell me about her,' I said, for I knew that if he would talk it would +do him good. And talk he did, often forgetting me, till, as I listened, +I found myself looking again into the fathomless eyes, and hearing +again the heart-searching voice. I saw her go in and out of the little +red-tiled cottages and down the narrow back lanes of the village; I +heard her voice in a sweet, low song by the bed of a dying child, or +pouring forth floods of music in the great new hall of the factory town +near by. But I could not see, though he tried to show me, the stately +gracious lady receiving the country folk in her home. He did not linger +over that scene, but went back again to the gate-cottage where she had +taken him one day to see Billy Breen's mother. + +'I found the old woman knew all about me,' he said, simply enough; 'but +there were many things about Billy she had never heard, and I was glad +to put her right on some points, though Mrs. Mavor would not hear it.' + +He sat silent for a little, looking into the coals; then went on in a +soft, quiet voice-- + +'It brought back the mountains and the old days to hear again Billy's +tones in his mother's voice, and to see her sitting there in the very +dress she wore the night of the League, you remember--some soft stuff +with black lace about it--and to hear her sing as she did for Billy--ah! +ah!' His voice unexpectedly broke, but in a moment he was master of +himself and begged me to forgive his weakness. I am afraid I said words +that should not be said--a thing I never do, except when suddenly and +utterly upset. + +'I am getting selfish and weak,' he said; 'I must get to work. I am glad +to get to work. There is much to do, and it is worth while, if only to +keep one from getting useless and lazy.' + +'Useless and lazy!' I said to myself, thinking of my life beside his, +and trying to get command of my voice, so as not to make quite a fool +of myself. And for many a day those words goaded me to work and to the +exercise of some mild self-denial. But more than all else, after Craig +had gone back to the mountains, Graeme's letters from the railway +construction camp stirred one to do unpleasant duty long postponed, and +rendered uncomfortable my hours of most luxurious ease. Many of the old +gang were with him, both of lumbermen and miners, and Craig was their +minister. And the letters told of how he laboured by day and by night +along the line of construction, carrying his tent and kit with him, +preaching straight sermons, watching by sick men, writing their letters, +and winning their hearts; making strong their lives, and helping them +to die well when their hour came. One day, these letters proved too much +for me, and I packed away my paints and brushes, and made my vow unto +the Lord that I would be 'useless and lazy' no longer, but would do +something with myself. In consequence, I found myself within three weeks +walking the London hospitals, finishing my course, that I might join +that band of men who were doing something with life, or, if throwing +it away, were not losing it for nothing. I had finished being a fool, +I hoped, at least a fool of the useless and luxurious kind. The letter +that came from Graeme, in reply to my request for a position on his +staff, was characteristic of the man, both new and old, full of gayest +humour and of most earnest welcome to the work. + +Mrs. Mavor's reply was like herself-- + +'I knew you would not long be content with the making of pictures, which +the world does not really need, and would join your friends in the dear +West, making lives that the world needs so sorely.' + +But her last words touched me strangely-- + +'But be sure to be thankful every day for your privilege. . . . It will +be good to think of you all, with the glorious mountains about you, and +Christ's own work in your hands. . . . Ah! how we would like to choose +our work, and the place in which to do it!' + +The longing did not appear in the words, but I needed no words to tell +me how deep and how constant it was. And I take some credit to myself, +that in my reply I gave her no bidding to join our band, but rather +praised the work she was doing in her place, telling her how I had heard +of it from Craig. + +The summer found me religiously doing Paris and Vienna, gaining a more +perfect acquaintance with the extent and variety of my own ignorance, +and so fully occupied in this interesting and wholesome occupation +that I fell out with all my correspondents, with the result of weeks of +silence between us. + +Two letters among the heap waiting on my table in London made my heart +beat quick, but with how different feelings: one from Graeme telling me +that Craig had been very ill, and that he was to take him home as soon +as he could be moved. Mrs. Mavor's letter told me of the death of the +old lady, who had been her care for the past two years, and of her +intention to spend some months in her old home in Edinburgh. And this +letter it is that accounts for my presence in a miserable, dingy, dirty +little hall running off a close in the historic Cowgate, redolent of +the glories of the splendid past, and of the various odours of the +evil-smelling present. I was there to hear Mrs. Mavor sing to the crowd +of gamins that thronged the closes in the neighbourhood, and that had +been gathered into a club by 'a fine leddie frae the West End,' for +the love of Christ and His lost. This was an 'At Home' night, and the +mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, of all ages and sizes were +present. Of all the sad faces I had ever seen, those mothers carried the +saddest and most woe-stricken. 'Heaven pity us!' I found myself saying; +'is this the beautiful, the cultured, the heaven-exalted city of +Edinburgh? Will it not, for this, be cast down into hell some day, if +it repent not of its closes and their dens of defilement? Oh! the utter +weariness, the dazed hopelessness of the ghastly faces! Do not the +kindly, gentle church-going folk of the crescents and the gardens see +them in their dreams, or are their dreams too heavenly for these ghastly +faces to appear?' + +I cannot recall the programme of the evening, but in my memory-gallery +is a vivid picture of that face, sweet, sad, beautiful, alight with the +deep glow of her eyes, as she stood and sang to that dingy crowd. As I +sat upon the window-ledge listening to the voice with its flowing song, +my thoughts were far away, and I was looking down once more upon the +eager, coal-grimed faces in the rude little church in Black Rock. I was +brought back to find myself swallowing hard by an audible whisper from a +wee lassie to her mother-- + +'Mither! See till yon man. He's greetin'.' + +When I came to myself she was singing 'The Land o' the Leal,' the Scotch +'Jerusalem the Golden,' immortal, perfect. It needed experience of the +hunger-haunted Cowgate closes, chill with the black mist of an eastern +haar, to feel the full bliss of the vision in the words-- + + 'There's nae sorrow there, Jean, + There's neither cauld nor care, Jean, + The day is aye fair in + The Land o' the Leal.' + +A land of fair, warm days, untouched by sorrow and care, would be heaven +indeed to the dwellers of the Cowgate. + +The rest of that evening is hazy enough to me now, till I find myself +opposite Mrs. Mavor at her fire, reading Graeme's letter; then all is +vivid again. + +I could not keep the truth from her. I knew it would be folly to try. So +I read straight on till I came to the words-- + +'He has had mountain fever, whatever that may be, and he will not +pull up again. If I can, I shall take him home to my mother'--when she +suddenly stretched out her hand, saying, 'Oh, let me read!' and I +gave her the letter. In a minute she had read it, and began almost +breathlessly-- + +'Listen! my life is much changed. My mother-in-law is gone; she needs +me no longer. My solicitor tells me, too, that owing to unfortunate +investments there is need of money, so great need, that it is possible +that either the estates or the works must go. My cousin has his all in +the works--iron works, you know. It would be wrong to have him suffer. I +shall give up the estates--that is best.' She paused. + +'And come with me,' I cried. + +'When do you sail?' + +'Next week,' I answered eagerly. + +She looked at me a few moments, and into her eyes there came a light +soft and tender, as she said-- + +'I shall go with you.' + +And so she did; and no old Roman in all the glory of a Triumph carried a +prouder heart than I, as I bore her and her little one from the train to +Graeme's carriage, crying-- + +'I've got her.' + +But his was the better sense, for he stood waving his hat and shouting-- + +'He's all right,' at which Mrs. Mavor grew white; but when she shook +hands with him, the red was in her cheek again. + +'It was the cable did it,' went on Graeme. 'Connor's a great doctor! His +first case will make him famous. Good prescription--after mountain fever +try a cablegram!' And the red grew deeper in the beautiful face beside +us. + +Never did the country look so lovely. The woods were in their gayest +autumn dress; the brown fields were bathed in a purple haze; the air was +sweet and fresh with a suspicion of the coming frosts of winter. But +in spite of all the road seemed long, and it was as if hours had gone +before our eyes fell upon the white manse standing among the golden +leaves. + +'Let them go,' I cried, as Graeme paused to take in the view, and down +the sloping dusty road we flew on the dead run. + +'Reminds one a little of Abe's curves,' said Graeme, as we drew up at +the gate. But I answered him not, for I was introducing to each other +the two best women in the world. As I was about to rush into the house, +Graeme seized me by the collar, saying-- + +'Hold on, Connor! you forget your place, you're next.' + +'Why, certainly,' I cried, thankfully enough; 'what an ass I am!' + +'Quite true,' said Graeme solemnly. + +'Where is he?' I asked. + +'At this present moment?' he asked, in a shocked voice. 'Why, Connor, +you surprise me.' + +'Oh, I see!' + +'Yes,' he went on gravely; 'you may trust my mother to be discreetly +attending to her domestic duties; she is a great woman, my mother.' + +I had no doubt of it, for at that moment she came out to us with little +Marjorie in her arms. + +'You have shown Mrs. Mavor to her room, mother, I hope,' said Graeme; +but she only smiled and said-- + +'Run away with your horses, you silly boy,' at which he solemnly shook +his head. 'Ah, mother, you are deep--who would have thought it of you?' + +That evening the manse overflowed with joy, and the days that followed +were like dreams set to sweet music. + +But for sheer wild delight, nothing in my memory can quite come up to +the demonstration organised by Graeme, with assistance from Nixon, Shaw, +Sandy, Abe, Geordie, and Baptiste, in honour of the arrival in camp +of Mr. and Mrs. Craig. And, in my opinion, it added something to the +occasion, that after all the cheers for Mr. and Mrs. Craig had died +away, and after all the hats had come down, Baptiste, who had never +taken his eyes from that radiant face, should suddenly have swept the +crowd into a perfect storm of cheers by excitedly seizing his tuque, and +calling out in his shrill voice-- + +'By gar! Tree cheer for Mrs. Mavor.' + +And for many a day the men of Black Rock would easily fall into the old +and well-loved name; but up and down the line of construction, in all +the camps beyond the Great Divide, the new name became as dear as the +old had ever been in Black Rock. + +Those old wild days are long since gone into the dim distance of the +past. They will not come again, for we have fallen into quiet times; +but often in my quietest hours I feel my heart pause in its beat to hear +again that strong, clear voice, like the sound of a trumpet, bidding +us to be men; and I think of them all--Graeme, their chief, Sandy, +Baptiste, Geordie, Abe, the Campbells, Nixon, Shaw, all stronger, better +for their knowing of him, and then I think of Billy asleep under the +pines, and of old man Nelson with the long grass waving over him in the +quiet churchyard, and all my nonsense leaves me, and I bless the Lord +for all His benefits, but chiefly for the day I met the missionary of +Black Rock in the lumber-camp among the Selkirks. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Black Rock, by Ralph Connor + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLACK ROCK *** + +***** This file should be named 3245.txt or 3245.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/4/3245/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the 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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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.12.12.00*END* + + + + + +This etext was produced by Donald Lainson, charlie@idirect.com. + + + + + +BLACK ROCK + +A TALE OF THE SELKIRKS + +by Ralph Connor + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +I think I have met "Ralph Conner." Indeed, I am sure I have--once +in a canoe on the Red River, once on the Assinaboine, and twice or +thrice on the prairies to the West. That was not the name he gave +me, but, if I am right, it covers one of the most honest and genial +of the strong characters that are fighting the devil and doing good +work for men all over the world. He has seen with his own eyes the +life which he describes in this book, and has himself, for some +years of hard and lonely toil, assisted in the good influences which +he traces among its wild and often hopeless conditions. He writes +with the freshness and accuracy of an eye-witness, with the style +(as I think his readers will allow) of a real artist, and with the +tenderness and hopefulness of a man not only of faith but of +experience, who has seen in fulfillment the ideals for which he +lives. + +The life to which he takes us, though far off and very strange to +our tame minds, is the life of our brothers. Into the Northwest of +Canada the young men of Great Britain and Ireland have been pouring +(I was told), sometimes at the rate of 48,000 a year. Our brothers +who left home yesterday--our hearts cannot but follow them. With +these pages Ralph Conner enables our eyes and our minds to follow, +too; nor do I think there is any one who shall read this book and +not find also that his conscience is quickened. There is a warfare +appointed unto man upon earth, and its struggles are nowhere more +intense, nor the victories of the strong, nor the succors brought +to the fallen, more heroic, than on the fields described in this +volume. + +GEORGE ADAM SMITH. + + + +BLACK ROCK + + +The story of the book is true, and chief of the failures in the +making of the book is this, that it is not all the truth. The +light is not bright enough, the shadow is not black enough to give +a true picture of that bit of Western life of which the writer was +some small part. The men of the book are still there in the mines +and lumber camps of the mountains, fighting out that eternal fight +for manhood, strong, clean, God-conquered. And, when the west +winds blow, to the open ear the sounds of battle come, telling the +fortunes of the fight. + +Because a man's life is all he has, and because the only hope of +the brave young West lies in its men, this story is told. It may +be that the tragic pity of a broken life may move some to pray, and +that that divine power there is in a single brave heart to summon +forth hope and courage may move some to fight. If so, the tale is +not told in vain. + +C.W.G. + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER I + +CHRISTMAS EVE IN A LUMBER CAMP + + +CHAPTER II + +THE BLACK ROCK CHRISTMAS + + +CHAPTER III + +WATERLOO. OUR FIGHT--HIS VICTORY + + +CHAPTER IV + +MRS. MAVOR'S STORY + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MAKING OF THE LEAGUE + + +CHAPTER VI + +BLACK ROCK RELIGION + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE FIRST BLACK ROCK COMMUNION + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE BREAKING OF THE LEAGUE + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE LEAGUE'S REVENGE + + +CHAPTER X + +WHAT CAME TO SLAVIN + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE TWO CALLS + + +CHAPTER XII + +LOVE IS NOT ALL + + +CHAPTER XIII + +HOW NELSON CAME HOME + + +CHAPTER XIV + +GRAEME'S NEW BIRTH + + +CHAPTER XV + +COMING TO THEIR OWN + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +CHRISTMAS EVE IN A LUMBER CAMP + + +It was due to a mysterious dispensation of Providence, and a good +deal to Leslie Graeme, that I found myself in the heart of the +Selkirks for my Christmas Eve as the year 1882 was dying. It had +been my plan to spend my Christmas far away in Toronto, with such +Bohemian and boon companions as could be found in that cosmopolitan +and kindly city. But Leslie Graeme changed all that, for, +discovering me in the village of Black Rock, with my traps all +packed, waiting for the stage to start for the Landing, thirty +miles away, he bore down upon me with resistless force, and I found +myself recovering from my surprise only after we had gone in his +lumber sleigh some six miles on our way to his camp up in the +mountains. I was surprised and much delighted, though I would not +allow him to think so, to find that his old-time power over me was +still there. He could always in the old 'Varsity days--dear, wild +days--make me do what he liked. He was so handsome and so +reckless, brilliant in his class-work, and the prince of half-backs +on the Rugby field, and with such power of fascination, as would +'extract the heart out of a wheelbarrow,' as Barney Lundy used to +say. And thus it was that I found myself just three weeks later--I +was to have spent two or three days,--on the afternoon of the 24th +of December, standing in Graeme's Lumber Camp No. 2, wondering at +myself. But I did not regret my changed plans, for in those three +weeks I had raided a cinnamon bear's den and had wakened up a +grizzly-- But I shall let the grizzly finish the tale; he probably +sees more humour in it than I. + +The camp stood in a little clearing, and consisted of a group of +three long, low shanties with smaller shacks near them, all built +of heavy, unhewn logs, with door and window in each. The grub +camp, with cook-shed attached, stood in the middle of the clearing; +at a little distance was the sleeping-camp with the office built +against it, and about a hundred yards away on the other side of the +clearing stood the stables, and near them the smiddy. The +mountains rose grandly on every side, throwing up their great peaks +into the sky. The clearing in which the camp stood was hewn out of +a dense pine forest that filled the valley and climbed half way up +the mountain-sides, and then frayed out in scattered and stunted +trees. + +It was one of those wonderful Canadian winter days, bright, and +with a touch of sharpness in the air that did not chill, but warmed +the blood like draughts of wine. The men were up in the woods, and +the shrill scream of the blue jay flashing across the open, the +impudent chatter of the red squirrel from the top of the grub camp, +and the pert chirp of the whisky-jack, hopping about on the +rubbish-heap, with the long, lone cry of the wolf far down the +valley, only made the silence felt the more. + +As I stood drinking in with all my soul the glorious beauty and the +silence of mountain and forest, with the Christmas feeling stealing +into me, Graeme came out from his office, and, catching sight of +me, called out, 'Glorious Christmas weather, old chap!' And then, +coming nearer, 'Must you go to-morrow?' + +'I fear so,' I replied, knowing well that the Christmas feeling was +on him too. + +'I wish I were going with you,' he said quietly. + +I turned eagerly to persuade him, but at the look of suffering in +his face the words died at my lips, for we both were thinking of +the awful night of horror when all his bright, brilliant life +crashed down about him in black ruin and shame. I could only throw +my arm over his shoulder and stand silent beside him. A sudden +jingle of bells roused him, and, giving himself a little shake, he +exclaimed, 'There are the boys coming home.' + +Soon the camp was filled with men talking, laughing, chaffing, like +light-hearted boys. + +'They are a little wild to-night,' said Graeme; 'and to morrow +they'll paint Black Rock red.' + +Before many minutes had gone, the last teamster was 'washed up,' +and all were standing about waiting impatiently for the cook's +signal--the supper to-night was to be 'something of a feed'--when +the sound of bells drew their attention to a light sleigh drawn by +a buckskin broncho coming down the hillside at a great pace. + +'The preacher, I'll bet, by his driving,' said one of the men. + +'Bedad, and it's him has the foine nose for turkey!' said Blaney, a +good-natured, jovial Irishman. + +'Yes, or for pay-day, more like,' said Keefe, a black-browed, +villainous fellow-countryman of Blaney's, and, strange to say, his +great friend. + +Big Sandy M'Naughton, a Canadian Highlander from Glengarry, rose up +in wrath. 'Bill Keefe,' said he, with deliberate emphasis, 'you'll +just keep your dirty tongue off the minister; and as for your pay, +it's little he sees of it, or any one else, except Mike Slavin, +when you're too dry to wait for some one to treat you, or perhaps +Father Ryan, when the fear of hell-fire is on to you.' + +The men stood amazed at Sandy's sudden anger and length of speech. + +'Bon; dat's good for you, my bully boy,' said Baptiste, a wiry +little French-Canadian, Sandy's sworn ally and devoted admirer ever +since the day when the big Scotsman, under great provocation, had +knocked him clean off the dump into the river and then jumped in +for him. + +It was not till afterwards I learned the cause of Sandy's sudden +wrath which urged him to such unwonted length of speech. It was +not simply that the Presbyterian blood carried with it reverence +for the minister and contempt for Papists and Fenians, but that he +had a vivid remembrance of how, only a month ago, the minister had +got him out of Mike Slavin's saloon and out the clutches of Keefe +and Slavin and their gang of bloodsuckers. + +Keefe started up with a curse. Baptiste sprang to Sandy's side, +slapped him on the back, and called out, 'You keel him, I'll hit +(eat) him up, me.' + +It looked as if there might be a fight, when a harsh voice said in +a low, savage tone, 'Stop your row, you blank fools; settle it, if +you want to, somewhere else.' I turned, and was amazed to see old +man Nelson, who was very seldom moved to speech. + +There was a look of scorn on his hard, iron-grey face, and of such +settled fierceness as made me quite believe the tales I had heard +of his deadly fights in the mines at the coast. Before any reply +could be made, the minister drove up and called out in a cheery +voice, 'Merry Christmas, boys! Hello, Sandy! Comment ca va, +Baptiste? How do you do, Mr. Graeme?' + +'First rate. Let me introduce my friend, Mr. Connor, sometime +medical student, now artist, hunter, and tramp at large, but not a +bad sort.' + +'A man to be envied,' said the minister, smiling. 'I am glad to +know any friend of Mr. Graeme's.' + +I liked Mr. Craig from the first. He had good eyes that looked +straight out at you, a clean-cut, strong face well set on his +shoulders, and altogether an upstanding, manly bearing. He +insisted on going with Sandy to the stables to see Dandy, his +broncho, put up. + +'Decent fellow,' said Graeme; 'but though he is good enough to his +broncho, it is Sandy that's in his mind now.' + +'Does he come out often? I mean, are you part of his parish, so to +speak?' + +'I have no doubt he thinks so; and I'm blowed if he doesn't make +the Presbyterians of us think so too.' And he added after a pause, +'A dandy lot of parishioners we are for any man. There's Sandy, +now, he would knock Keefe's head off as a kind of religious +exercise; but to-morrow Keefe will be sober, and Sandy will be +drunk as a lord, and the drunker he is the better Presbyterian +he'll be; to the preacher's disgust.' Then after another pause he +added bitterly, 'But it is not for me to throw rocks at Sandy; I am +not the same kind of fool, but I am a fool of several other sorts.' + +Then the cook came out and beat a tattoo on the bottom of a dish- +pan. Baptiste answered with a yell: but though keenly hungry, no +man would demean himself to do other than walk with apparent +reluctance to his place at the table. At the further end of the +camp was a big fireplace, and from the door to the fireplace +extended the long board tables, covered with platters of turkey not +too scientifically carved, dishes of potatoes, bowls of apple +sauce, plates of butter, pies, and smaller dishes distributed at +regular intervals. Two lanterns hanging from the roof, and a row +of candles stuck into the wall on either side by means of slit +sticks, cast a dim, weird light over the scene. + +There was a moment's silence, and at a nod from Graeme Mr. Craig +rose and said, 'I don't know how you feel about it, men, but to me +this looks good enough to be thankful for.' + +'Fire ahead, sir,' called out a voice quite respectfully, and the +minister bent his head and said-- + +'For Christ the Lord who came to save us, for all the love and +goodness we have known, and for these Thy gifts to us this +Christmas night, our Father, make us thankful. Amen.' + +'Bon, dat's fuss rate,' said Baptiste. 'Seems lak dat's make me +hit (eat) more better for sure,' and then no word was spoken for +quarter of an hour. The occasion was far too solemn and moments +too precious for anything so empty as words. But when the white +piles of bread and the brown piles of turkey had for a second time +vanished, and after the last pie had disappeared, there came a +pause and hush of expectancy, whereupon the cook and cookee, each +bearing aloft a huge, blazing pudding, came forth. + +'Hooray!' yelled Blaney, 'up wid yez!' and grabbing the cook by the +shoulders from behind, he faced him about. + +Mr. Craig was the first to respond, and seizing the cookee in the +same way, called out, 'Squad, fall in! quick march!' In a moment +every man was in the procession. + +'Strike up, Batchees, ye little angel!' shouted Blaney, the +appellation a concession to the minister's presence; and away went +Baptiste in a rollicking French song with the English chorus-- + + + 'Then blow, ye winds, in the morning, + Blow, ye winds, ay oh! + Blow, ye winds, in the morning, + Blow, blow, blow.' + + +And at each 'blow' every boot came down with a thump on the plank +floor that shook the solid roof. After the second round, Mr. +Craig jumped upon the bench, and called out-- + +'Three cheers for Billy the cook!' + +In the silence following the cheers Baptiste was heard to say, +'Bon! dat's mak me feel lak hit dat puddin' all hup mesef, me.' + +'Hear till the little baste!' said Blaney in disgust. + +'Batchees,' remonstrated Sandy gravely, 'ye've more stomach than +manners.' + +'Fu sure! but de more stomach dat's more better for dis puddin',' +replied the little Frenchman cheerfully. + +After a time the tables were cleared and pushed back to the wall, +and pipes were produced. In all attitudes suggestive of comfort +the men disposed themselves in a wide circle about the fire, which +now roared and crackled up the great wooden chimney hanging from +the roof. The lumberman's hour of bliss had arrived. Even old man +Nelson looked a shade less melancholy than usual as he sat alone, +well away from the fire, smoking steadily and silently. When the +second pipes were well a-going, one of the men took down a violin +from the wall and handed it to Lachlan Campbell. There were two +brothers Campbell just out from Argyll, typical Highlanders: +Lachlan, dark, silent, melancholy, with the face of a mystic, and +Angus, red-haired, quick, impulsive, and devoted to his brother, a +devotion he thought proper to cover under biting, sarcastic speech. + +Lachlan, after much protestation, interspersed with gibes from his +brother, took the violin, and, in response to the call from all +sides, struck up 'Lord Macdonald's Reel.' In a moment the floor +was filled with dancers, whooping and cracking their fingers in the +wildest manner. Then Baptiste did the 'Red River Jig,' a most +intricate and difficult series of steps, the men keeping time to +the music with hands and feet. + +When the jig was finished, Sandy called for 'Lochaber No More'; but +Campbell said, 'No, no! I cannot play that to-night. Mr. Craig +will play.' + +Craig took the violin, and at the first note I knew he was no +ordinary player. I did not recognise the music, but it was soft +and thrilling, and got in by the heart, till every one was thinking +his tenderest and saddest thoughts. + +After he had played two or three exquisite bits, he gave Campbell +his violin, saying, 'Now, "Lochaber," Lachlan.' + +Without a word Lachlan began, not 'Lochaber'--he was not ready for +that yet--but 'The Flowers o' the Forest,' and from that wandered +through 'Auld Robin Gray' and 'The Land o' the Leal,' and so got at +last to that most soul-subduing of Scottish laments, 'Lochaber No +More.' At the first strain, his brother, who had thrown himself on +some blankets behind the fire, turned over on his face, feigning +sleep. Sandy M'Naughton took his pipe out of his mouth, and sat up +straight and stiff, staring into vacancy, and Graeme, beyond the +fire, drew a short, sharp breath. We had often sat, Graeme and I, +in our student-days, in the drawing-room at home, listening to his +father wailing out 'Lochaber' upon the pipes, and I well knew that +the awful minor strains were now eating their way into his soul. + +Over and over again the Highlander played his lament. He had long +since forgotten us, and was seeing visions of the hills and lochs +and glens of his far-away native land, and making us, too, see +strange things out of the dim past. I glanced at old man Nelson, +and was startled at the eager, almost piteous, look in his eyes, +and I wished Campbell would stop. Mr. Craig caught my eye, and, +stepping over to Campbell, held out his hand for the violin. +Lingeringly and lovingly the Highlander drew out the last strain, +and silently gave the minister his instrument. + +Without a moment's pause, and while the spell of 'Lochaber' was +still upon us, the minister, with exquisite skill, fell into the +refrain of that simple and beautiful camp-meeting hymn, 'The Sweet +By and By.' After playing the verse through once, he sang softly +the refrain. After the first verse, the men joined in the chorus; +at first timidly, but by the time the third verse was reached they +were shouting with throats full open, 'We shall meet on that +beautiful shore.' When I looked at Nelson the eager light had gone +out of his eyes, and in its place was kind of determined +hopelessness, as if in this new music he had no part. + +After the voices had ceased, Mr. Craig played again the refrain, +more and more softly and slowly; then laying the violin on +Campbell's knees, he drew from his pocket his little Bible, and +said-- + +'Men, with Mr. Graeme's permission, I want to read you something +this Christmas Eve. You will all have heard it before, but you +will like it none the less for that.' + +His voice was soft, but clear and penetrating, as he read the +eternal story of the angels and the shepherds and the Babe. And as +he read, a slight motion of the hand or a glance of an eye made us +see, as he was seeing, that whole radiant drama. The wonder, the +timid joy, the tenderness, the mystery of it all, were borne in +upon us with overpowering effect. He closed the book, and in the +same low, clear voice went on to tell us how, in his home years +ago, he used to stand on Christmas Eve listening in thrilling +delight to his mother telling him the story, and how she used to +make him see the shepherds and hear the sheep bleating near by, and +how the sudden burst of glory used to make his heart jump. + +'I used to be a little afraid of the angels, because a boy told me +they were ghosts; but my mother told me better, and I didn't fear +them any more. And the Baby, the dear little Baby--we all love a +baby.' There was a quick, dry sob; it was from Nelson. 'I used to +peek through under to see the little one in the straw, and wonder +what things swaddling clothes were. Oh, it was all so real and so +beautiful!' He paused, and I could hear the men breathing. + +'But one Christmas Eve,' he went on, in a lower, sweeter tone, +'there was no one to tell me the story, and I grew to forget it, +and went away to college, and learned to think that it was only a +child's tale and was not for men. Then bad days came to me and +worse, and I began to lose my grip of myself, of life, of hope, of +goodness, till one black Christmas, in the slums of a faraway city, +when I had given up all, and the devil's arms were about me, I +heard the story again. And as I listened, with a bitter ache in my +heart, for I had put it all behind me, I suddenly found myself +peeking under the shepherds' arms with a child's wonder at the Baby +in the straw. Then it came over me like great waves, that His name +was Jesus, because it was He that should save men from their sins. +Save! Save! The waves kept beating upon my ears, and before I +knew, I had called out, "Oh! can He save me?" It was in a little +mission meeting on one of the side streets, and they seemed to be +used to that sort of thing there, for no one was surprised; and a +young fellow leaned across the aisle to me and said, "Why! you just +bet He can!" His surprise that I should doubt, his bright face and +confident tone, gave me hope that perhaps it might be so. I held +to that hope with all my soul, and'--stretching up his arms, and +with a quick glow in his face and a little break in his voice, 'He +hasn't failed me yet; not once, not once!' + +He stopped quite short, and I felt a good deal like making a fool +of myself, for in those days I had not made up my mind about these +things. Graeme, poor old chap, was gazing at him with a sad +yearning in his dark eyes; big Sandy was sitting very stiff, and +staring harder than ever into the fire; Baptiste was trembling with +excitement; Blaney was openly wiping the tears away. But the face +that held my eyes was that of old man Nelson. It was white, +fierce, hungry-looking, his sunken eyes burning, his lips parted as +if to cry. + +The minister went on. 'I didn't mean to tell you this, men, it all +came over me with a rush; but it is true, every word, and not a +word will I take back. And, what's more, I can tell you this, what +He did for me He can do for any man, and it doesn't make any +difference what's behind him, and'--leaning slightly forward, and +with a little thrill of pathos vibrating in his voice--'O boys, why +don't you give Him a chance at you? Without Him you'll never be +the men you want to be, and you'll never get the better of that +that's keeping some of you now from going back home. You know +you'll never go back till you're the men you want to be.' Then, +lifting up his face and throwing back his head, he said, as if to +himself, 'Jesus! He shall save His people from their sins,' and +then, 'Let us pray.' + +Graeme leaned forward with his face in his hands; Baptiste and +Blaney dropped on their knees; Sandy, the Campbells, and some +others, stood up. Old man Nelson held his eyes steadily on the +minister. + +Only once before had I seen that look on a human face. A young +fellow had broken through the ice on the river at home, and as the +black water was dragging his fingers one by one from the slippery +edges, there came over his face that same look. I used to wake up +for many a night after in a sweat of horror, seeing the white face +with its parting lips, and its piteous, dumb appeal, and the black +water slowly sucking it down. + +Nelson's face brought it all back; but during the prayer the face +changed, and seemed to settle into resolve of some sort, stern, +almost gloomy, as of a man with his last chance before him. + +After the prayer Mr. Craig invited the men to a Christmas dinner +next day in Black Rock. 'And because you are an independent lot, +we'll charge you half a dollar for dinner and the evening show.' +Then leaving a bundle of magazines and illustrated papers on the +table--a godsend to the men--he said good-bye and went out. + +I was to go with the minister, so I jumped into the sleigh first, +and waited while he said good-bye to Graeme, who had been hard hit +by the whole service, and seemed to want to say something. I heard +Mr. Craig say cheerfully and confidently, 'It's a true bill: try +Him.' + +Sandy, who had been steadying Dandy while that interesting broncho +was attempting with great success to balance himself on his hind +legs, came to say good-bye. 'Come and see me first thing, Sandy.' + +'Ay! I know; I'll see ye, Mr. Craig,' said Sandy earnestly, as +Dandy dashed off at a full gallop across the clearing and over the +bridge, steadying down when he reached the hill. + +'Steady, you idiot!' + +This was to Dandy, who had taken a sudden side spring into the deep +snow, almost upsetting us. A man stepped out from the shadow. It +was old man Nelson. He came straight to the sleigh, and, ignoring +my presence completely, said-- + +'Mr. Craig, are you dead sure of this? Will it work?' + +'Do you mean,' said Craig, taking him up promptly, 'can Jesus +Christ save you from your sins and make a man of you?' + +The old man nodded, keeping his hungry eyes on the other's face. + +'Well, here's His message to you: "The Son of Man is come to seek +and to save that which was lost."' + +'To me? To me?' said the old man eagerly. + +'Listen; this, too, is His Word: "Him that cometh unto Me I will in +no wise cast out." That's for you, for here you are, coming.' + +'You don't know me, Mr. Craig. I left my baby fifteen years ago +because--' + +'Stop!' said the minister. 'Don't tell me, at least not to-night; +perhaps never. Tell Him who knows it all now, and who never +betrays a secret. Have it out with Him. Don't be afraid to trust +Him.' + +Nelson looked at him, with his face quivering, and said in a husky +voice, 'If this is no good, it's hell for me.' + +'If it is no good,' replied Craig, almost sternly, 'it's hell for +all of us.' + +The old man straightened himself up, looked up at the stars, then +back at Mr. Craig, then at me, and, drawing a deep breath, said, +'I'll try Him.' As he was turning away the minister touched him on +the arm, and said quietly, 'Keep an eye on Sandy to-morrow.' + +Nelson nodded, and we went on; but before we took the next turn I +looked back and saw what brought a lump into my throat. It was old +man Nelson on his knees in the snow, with his hands spread upward +to the stars, and I wondered if there was any One above the stars, +and nearer than the stars, who could see. And then the trees hid +him from my sight + + +CHAPTER II + +THE BLACK ROCK CHRISTMAS + + +Many strange Christmas Days have I seen, but that wild Black Rock +Christmas stands out strangest of all. While I was revelling in my +delicious second morning sleep, just awake enough to enjoy it, Mr. +Craig came abruptly, announcing breakfast and adding, 'Hope you are +in good shape, for we have our work before us this day.' + +'Hello!' I replied, still half asleep, and anxious to hide from the +minister that I was trying to gain a few more moments of snoozing +delight, 'what's abroad?'. + +'The devil,' he answered shortly, and with such emphasis that I sat +bolt upright, looking anxiously about. + +'Oh! no need for alarm. He's not after you particularly--at least +not to-day,' said Craig, with a shadow of a smile. 'But he is +going about in good style, I can tell you.' + +By this time I was quite awake. 'Well, what particular style does +His Majesty affect this morning?' + +He pulled out a showbill. 'Peculiarly gaudy and effective, is it +not?' + +The items announced were sufficiently attractive. The 'Frisco +Opera Company were to produce the 'screaming farce,' 'The Gay and +Giddy Dude'; after which there was to be a 'Grand Ball,' during +which the 'Kalifornia Female Kickers' were to do some fancy +figures; the whole to be followed by a 'big supper' with 'two free +drinks to every man and one to the lady,' and all for the +insignificant sum of two dollars. + +'Can't you go one better?' I said. + +He looked inquiringly and a little disgustedly at me. + +'What can you do against free drinks and a dance, not to speak of +the "High Kickers"?' he groaned. + +'No!' he continued; 'it's a clean beat for us today. The miners +and lumbermen will have in their pockets ten thousand dollars, and +every dollar burning a hole; and Slavin and his gang will get most +of it. But,' he added, 'you must have breakfast. You'll find a +tub in the kitchen; don't be afraid to splash. It is the best I +have to offer you.' + +The tub sounded inviting, and before many minutes had passed I was +in a delightful glow, the effect of cold water and a rough towel, +and that consciousness of virtue that comes to a man who has had +courage to face his cold bath on a winter morning. + +The breakfast was laid with fine taste. A diminutive pine-tree, in +a pot hung round with wintergreen, stood in the centre of the +table. + +'Well, now, this looks good; porridge, beefsteak, potatoes, toast, +and marmalade.' + +'I hope you will enjoy it all.' + +There was not much talk over our meal. Mr. Craig was evidently +preoccupied, and as blue as his politeness would allow him. +Slavin's victory weighed upon his spirits. Finally he burst out, +'Look here! I can't, I won't stand it; something must be done. +Last Christmas this town was for two weeks, as one of the miners +said, "a little suburb of hell." It was something too awful. And +at the end of it all one young fellow was found dead in his shack, +and twenty or more crawled back to the camps, leaving their three +months' pay with Slavin and his suckers. + +'I won't stand it, I say.' He turned fiercely on me. 'What's to +be done?' + +This rather took me aback, for I had troubled myself with nothing +of this sort in my life before, being fully occupied in keeping +myself out of difficulty, and allowing others the same privilege. +So I ventured the consolation that he had done his part, and that a +spree more or less would not make much difference to these men. +But the next moment I wished I had been slower in speech, for he +swiftly faced me, and his words came like a torrent. + +'God forgive you that heartless word! Do you know--? But no; you +don't know what you are saying. You don't know that these men have +been clambering for dear life out of a fearful pit for three months +past, and doing good climbing too, poor chaps. You don't think +that some of them have wives, most of them mothers and sisters, in +the east or across the sea, for whose sake they are slaving here; +the miners hoping to save enough to bring their families to this +homeless place, the rest to make enough to go back with credit. +Why, there's Nixon, miner, splendid chap; has been here for two +years, and drawing the highest pay. Twice he has been in sight of +his heaven, for he can't speak of his wife and babies without +breaking up, and twice that slick son of the devil--that's +Scripture, mind you--Slavin, got him, and "rolled" him, as the boys +say. He went back to the mines broken in body and in heart. He +says this is his third and last chance. If Slavin gets him, his +wife and babies will never see him on earth or in heaven. There is +Sandy, too, and the rest. And,' he added, in a lower tone, and +with the curious little thrill of pathos in his voice, 'this is the +day the Saviour came to the world.' He paused, and then with a +little sad smile, 'But I don't want to abuse you.' + +'Do, I enjoy it, I'm a beast, a selfish beast'; for somehow his +intense, blazing earnestness made me feel uncomfortably small. + +'What have we to offer?' I demanded. + +'Wait till I have got these things cleared away, and my +housekeeping done.' + +I pressed my services upon him, somewhat feebly, I own, for I can't +bear dishwater; but he rejected my offer. + +'I don't like trusting my china to the hands of a tender-foot.' + +'Quite right, though your china would prove an excellent means of +defence at long range.' It was delf, a quarter of an inch thick. +So I smoked while he washed up, swept, dusted, and arranged the +room. + +After the room was ordered to his taste, we proceeded to hold +council. He could offer dinner, magic lantern, music. 'We can +fill in time for two hours, but,' he added gloomily, 'we can't beat +the dance and the "High Kickers."' + +'Have you nothing new or startling?' + +He shook his head. + +'No kind of show? Dog show? Snake charmer?' + +'Slavin has a monopoly of the snakes.' + +Then he added hesitatingly, 'There was an old Punch-and-Judy chap +here last year, but he died. Whisky again.' + +'What happened to his show?' + +'The Black Rock Hotel man took it for board and whisky bill. He +has it still, I suppose.' + +I did not much relish the business; but I hated to see him beaten, +so I ventured, 'I have run a Punch and Judy in an amateur way at +the 'Varsity.' + +He sprang to his feet with a yell. + +'You have! you mean to say it? We've got them! We've beaten +them!' He had an extraordinary way of taking your help for +granted. 'The miner chaps, mostly English and Welsh, went mad over +the poor old showman, and made him so wealthy that in sheer +gratitude he drank himself to death.' + +He walked up and down in high excitement and in such evident +delight that I felt pledged to my best effort. + +'Well,' I said, 'first the poster. We must beat them in that.' + +He brought me large sheets of brown paper, and after two hours' +hard work I had half a dozen pictorial showbills done in gorgeous +colours and striking designs. They were good, if I do say it +myself. + +The turkey, the magic lantern, the Punch and Judy show were all +there, the last with a crowd before it in gaping delight. A few +explanatory words were thrown in, emphasising the highly artistic +nature of the Punch and Judy entertainment. + +Craig was delighted, and proceeded to perfect his plans. He had +some half a dozen young men, four young ladies, and eight or ten +matrons, upon whom he could depend for help. These he organised +into a vigilance committee charged with the duty of preventing +miners and lumbermen from getting away to Slavin's. 'The critical +moments will be immediately before and after dinner, and then again +after the show is over,' he explained. 'The first two crises must +be left to the care of Punch and Judy, and as for the last, I am +not yet sure what shall be done'; but I saw he had something in his +head, for he added, 'I shall see Mrs. Mavor.' + +'Who is Mrs. Mavor?' I asked. But he made no reply. He was a born +fighter, and he put the fighting spirit into us all. We were bound +to win. + +The sports were to begin at two o'clock. By lunch-time everything +was in readiness. After lunch I was having a quiet smoke in +Craig's shack when in he rushed, saying-- + +'The battle will be lost before it is fought. If we lose Quatre +Bras, we shall never get to Waterloo.' + +'What's up?' + +'Slavin, just now. The miners are coming in, and he will have them +in tow in half an hour.' + +He looked at me appealingly. I knew what he wanted. + +'All right; I suppose I must, but it is an awful bore that a man +can't have a quiet smoke.' + +'You're not half a bad fellow,' he replied, smiling. 'I shall get +the ladies to furnish coffee inside the booth. You furnish them +intellectual nourishment in front with dear old Punch and Judy.' + +He sent a boy with a bell round the village announcing, 'Punch, and +Judy in front of the Christmas booth beside the church'; and for +three-quarters of an hour I shrieked and sweated in that awful +little pen. But it was almost worth it to hear the shouts of +approval and laughter that greeted my performance. It was cold +work standing about, so that the crowd was quite ready to respond +when Punch, after being duly hanged, came forward and invited all +into the booth for the hot coffee which Judy had ordered. + +In they trooped, and Quatre Bras was won. + +No sooner were the miners safely engaged with their coffee than I +heard a great noise of bells and of men shouting; and on reaching +the street I saw that the men from the lumber camp were coming in. +Two immense sleighs, decorated with ribbons and spruce boughs, each +drawn by a four-horse team gaily adorned, filled with some fifty +men, singing and shouting with all their might, were coming down +the hill road at full gallop. Round the corner they swung, dashed +at full speed across the bridge and down the street, and pulled up +after they had made the circuit of a block, to the great admiration +of the onlookers. Among others Slavin sauntered up good-naturedly, +making himself agreeable to Sandy and those who were helping to +unhitch his team. + +'Oh, you need not take trouble with me or my team, Mike Slavin. +Batchees and me and the boys can look after them fine,' said Sandy +coolly. + +This rejecting of hospitality was perfectly understood by Slavin +and by all. + +'Dat's too bad, heh?' said Baptiste wickedly; 'and, Sandy, he's got +good money on his pocket for sure, too.' The boys laughed, and +Slavin, joining in, turned away with Keele and Blaney; but by the +look in his eye I knew he was playing 'Br'er Rabbit,' and lying +low. + +Mr. Craig just then came up, 'Hello, boys! too late for Punch and +Judy, but just in time for hot coffee and doughnuts.' + +'Bon; dat's fuss rate,' said Baptiste heartily; 'where you keep +him?' + +'Up in the tent next the church there. The miners are all in.' + +'Ah, dat so? Dat's bad news for the shantymen, heh, Sandy?' said +the little Frenchman dolefully. + +'There was a clothes-basket full of doughnuts and a boiler of +coffee left as I passed just now,' said Craig encouragingly. + +'Allons, mes garcons; vite! never say keel!' cried Baptiste +excitedly, stripping off the harness. + +But Sandy would not leave the horses till they were carefully +rubbed down, blanketed, and fed, for he was entered for the four- +horse race and it behoved him to do his best to win. Besides, he +scorned to hurry himself for anything so unimportant as eating; +that he considered hardly worthy even of Baptiste. Mr. Craig +managed to get a word with him before he went off, and I saw Sandy +solemnly and emphatically shake his head, saying, 'Ah! we'll beat +him this day,' and I gathered that he was added to the vigilance +committee. + +Old man Nelson was busy with his own team. He turned slowly at Mr. +Craig's greeting, 'How is it, Nelson?' and it was with a very grave +voice he answered, 'I hardly know, sir; but I am not gone yet, +though it seems little to hold to.' + +'All you want for a grip is what your hand can cover. What would +you have? And besides, do you know why you are not gone yet?' + +The old man waited, looking at the minister gravely. + +'Because He hasn't let go His grip of you.' + +'How do you know He's gripped me?' + +'Now, look here, Nelson, do you want to quit this thing and give it +all up?' + +'No, no! For heaven's sake, no! Why, do you think I have lost +it?' said Nelson, almost piteously. + +'Well, He's keener about it than you; and I'll bet you haven't +thought it worth while to thank Him.' + +'To thank Him,' he repeated, almost stupidly, 'for--' + +'For keeping you where you are overnight,' said Mr. Craig, almost +sternly. + +The old man gazed at the minister, a light growing in his eyes. + +'You're right. Thank God, you're right.' And then he turned +quickly away, and went into the stable behind his team. It was a +minute before he came out. Over his face there was a trembling +joy. + +'Can I do anything for you to-day?' he asked humbly. + +'Indeed you just can,' said the minister, taking his hand and +shaking it very warmly; and then he told him Slavin's programme and +ours. + +'Sandy is all right till after his race. After that is his time of +danger,' said the minister. + +'I'll stay with him, sir,' said old Nelson, in the tone of a man +taking a covenant, and immediately set off for the coffee-tent. + +'Here comes another recruit for your corps,' I said, pointing to +Leslie Graeme, who was coming down the street at that moment in his +light sleigh. + +'I am not so sure. Do you think you could get him?' + +I laughed. 'You are a good one.' + +'Well,' he replied, half defiantly, 'is not this your fight too?' + +'You make me think so, though I am bound to say I hardly recognise +myself to day. But here goes,' and before I knew it I was +describing our plans to Graeme, growing more and more enthusiastic +as he sat in his sleigh, listening with a quizzical smile I didn't +quite like. + +'He's got you too,' he said; 'I feared so.' + +'Well,' I laughed, 'perhaps so. But I want to lick that man +Slavin. I've just seen him, and he's just what Craig calls him, "a +slick son of the devil." Don't be shocked; he says it is +Scripture.' + +'Revised version,' said Graeme gravely, while Craig looked a little +abashed. + +'What is assigned me, Mr. Craig? for I know that this man is simply +your agent.' + +I repudiated the idea, while Mr. Craig said nothing. + +'What's my part?' demanded Graeme. + +'Well,' said Mr. Craig hesitatingly, 'of course I would do nothing +till I had consulted you; but I want a man to take my place at the +sports. I am referee.' + +'That's all right,' said Graeme, with an air of relief; 'I expected +something hard.' + +'And then I thought you would not mind presiding at dinner--I want +it to go off well.' + +'Did you notice that?' said Graeme to me. 'Not a bad touch, eh?' + +'That's nothing to the way he touched me. Wait and learn,' I +answered, while Craig looked quite distressed. 'He'll do it, Mr. +Craig, never fear,' I said, 'and any other little duty that may +occur to you.' + +'Now that's too bad of you. That is all I want, honour bright,' he +replied; adding, as he turned away, 'you are just in time for a cup +of coffee, Mr. Graeme. Now I must see Mrs. Mavor.' + +'Who is Mrs. Mavor?' I demanded of Graeme. + +'Mrs. Mavor? The miners' guardian angel.' + +We put up the horses and set off for coffee. As we approached the +booth Graeme caught sight of the Punch and Judy show, stood still +in amazement, and exclaimed, 'Can the dead live?' + +'Punch and Judy never die,' I replied solemnly. + +'But the old manipulator is dead enough, poor old beggar!' + +'But he left his mantle, as you see.' + +He looked at me a moment + +'What! do you mean, you--?' + +'Yes, that is exactly what I do mean.' + +'He is great man, that Craig fellow--a truly great man.' + +And then he leaned up against a tree and laughed till the tears +came. 'I say, old boy, don't mind me,' he gasped, 'but do you +remember the old 'Varsity show?' + +'Yes, you villain; and I remember your part in it. I wonder how +you can, even at this remote date, laugh at it.' For I had a vivid +recollection of how, after a 'chaste and highly artistic +performance of this mediaeval play' had been given before a +distinguished Toronto audience, the trap door by which I had +entered my box was fastened, and I was left to swelter in my cage, +and forced to listen to the suffocated laughter from the wings and +the stage whispers of 'Hello, Mr. Punch, where's the baby?' And +for many a day after I was subjected to anxious inquiries as to the +locality and health of 'the baby,' and whether it was able to be +out. + +'Oh, the dear old days!' he kept saying, over and over, in a tone +so full of sadness that my heart grew sore for him and I forgave +him, as many a time before. + +The sports passed off in typical Western style. In addition to the +usual running and leaping contests, there was rifle and pistol +shooting, in both of which old man Nelson stood first, with Shaw, +foreman of the mines, second. + +The great event of the day, however, was to be the four-horse race, +for which three teams were entered--one from the mines driven by +Nixon, Craig's friend, a citizens' team, and Sandy's. The race was +really between the miners' team, and that from the woods, for the +citizens' team, though made up of speedy horses, had not been +driven much together, and knew neither their driver nor each other. +In the miners' team were four bays, very powerful, a trifle heavy +perhaps, but well matched, perfectly trained, and perfectly handled +by their driver. Sandy had his long rangy roans, and for leaders a +pair of half-broken pinto bronchos. The pintos, caught the summer +before upon the Alberta prairies, were fleet as deer, but wicked +and uncertain. They were Baptiste's special care and pride. If +they would only run straight there was little doubt that they would +carry the roans and themselves to glory; but one could not tell the +moment they might bolt or kick things to pieces. + +Being the only non-partisan in the crowd I was asked to referee. +The race was about half a mile and return, the first and last +quarters being upon the ice. The course, after leaving the ice, +led up from the river by a long easy slope to the level above; and +at the further end curved somewhat sharply round the Old Fort. The +only condition attaching to the race was that the teams should +start from the scratch, make the turn of the Fort, and finish at +the scratch. There were no vexing regulations as to fouls. The +man making the foul would find it necessary to reckon with the +crowd, which was considered sufficient guarantee for a fair and +square race. Owing to the hazards of the course, the result would +depend upon the skill of the drivers quite as much as upon the +speed of the teams. The points of hazard were at the turn round +the Old Fort, and at a little ravine which led down to the river, +over which the road passed by means of a long log bridge or +causeway. + +From a point upon the high bank of the river the whole course lay +in open view. It was a scene full of life and vividly picturesque. +There were miners in dark clothes and peak caps; citizens in +ordinary garb; ranchmen in wide cowboy hats and buckskin shirts and +leggings, some with cartridge-belts and pistols; a few half-breeds +and Indians in half-native, half-civilised dress; and scattering +through the crowd the lumbermen with gay scarlet and blue blanket +coats, and some with knitted tuques of the same colours. A very +good-natured but extremely uncertain crowd it was. At the head of +each horse stood a man, but at the pintos' heads Baptiste stood +alone, trying to hold down the off leader, thrown into a frenzy of +fear by the yelling of the crowd. + +Gradually all became quiet, till, in the midst of absolute +stillness, came the words, 'Are you ready?', then the pistol-shot +and the great race had begun. Above the roar of the crowd came the +shrill cry of Baptiste, as he struck his broncho with the palm of +his hand, and swung himself into the sleigh beside Sandy, as it +shot past. + +Like a flash the bronchos sprang to the front, two lengths before +the other teams; but, terrified by the yelling of the crowd, +instead of bending to the left bank up which the road wound, they +wheeled to the right and were almost across the river before Sandy +could swing them back into the course. + +Baptiste's cries, a curious mixture of French and English, +continued to strike through all other sounds till they gained the +top of the slope to find the others almost a hundred yards in +front, the citizens' team leading, with the miners' following +close. The moment the pintos caught sight of the teams before them +they set off at a terrific pace and steadily devoured the +intervening space. Nearer and nearer the turn came, the eight +horses in front, running straight and well within their speed. +After them flew the pintos, running savagely with ears set back, +leading well the big roans, thundering along and gaining at every +bound. And now the citizens' team had almost reached the Fort, +running hard, and drawing away from the bays. But Nixon knew what +he was about, and was simply steadying his team for the turn. The +event proved his wisdom, for in the turn the leading team left the +track, lost a moment or two in the deep snow, and before they could +regain the road the bays had swept superbly past, leaving their +rivals to follow in the rear. On came the pintos, swiftly nearing +the Fort. Surely at that pace they cannot make the turn. But +Sandy knows his leaders. They have their eyes upon the teams in +front, and need no touch of rein. Without the slightest change in +speed the nimble-footed bronchos round the turn, hauling the big +roans after them, and fall in behind the citizens' team, which is +regaining steadily the ground lost in the turn. + +And now the struggle is for the bridge over the ravine. The bays +in front, running with mouths wide open, are evidently doing their +best; behind them, and every moment nearing them, but at the limit +of their speed too, come the lighter and fleeter citizens' team; +while opposite their driver are the pintos, pulling hard, eager and +fresh. Their temper is too uncertain to send them to the front; +they run well following, but when leading cannot be trusted, and +besides, a broncho hates a bridge; so Sandy holds them where they +are, waiting and hoping for his chance after the bridge is crossed. +Foot by foot the citizens' team creep up upon the flank of the +bays, with the pintos in turn hugging them closely, till it seems +as if the three, if none slackens, must strike the bridge together; +and this will mean destruction to one at least. This danger Sandy +perceives, but he dare not check his leaders. Suddenly, within a +few yards of the bridge, Baptiste throws himself upon the lines, +wrenches them out of Sandy's hands, and, with a quick swing, faces +the pintos down the steep side of the ravine, which is almost sheer +ice with a thin coat of snow. It is a daring course to take, for +the ravine, though not deep, is full of undergrowth, and is +partially closed up by a brush heap at the further end. But, with +a yell, Baptiste hurls his four horses down the slope, and into the +undergrowth. 'Allons, mes enfants! Courage! vite, vite!' cries +their driver, and nobly do the pintos respond. Regardless of +bushes and brush heaps, they tear their way through; but, as they +emerge, the hind bob-sleigh catches a root, and, with a crash, the +sleigh is hurled high in the air. Baptiste's cries ring out high +and shrill as ever, encouraging his team, and never cease till, +with a plunge and a scramble, they clear the brush heap lying at +the mouth of the ravine, and are out on the ice on the river, with +Baptiste standing on the front bob, the box trailing behind, and +Sandy nowhere to be seen. + +Three hundred yards of the course remain. The bays, perfectly +handled, have gained at the bridge and in the descent to the ice, +and are leading the citizens' team by half a dozen sleigh lengths. +Behind both comes Baptiste. It is now or never for the pintos. +The rattle of the trailing box, together with the wild yelling of +the crowd rushing down the bank, excites the bronchos to madness, +and, taking the bits in their teeth, they do their first free +running that day. Past the citizens' team like a whirlwind they +dash, clear the intervening space, and gain the flanks of the bays. +Can the bays hold them? Over them leans their driver, plying for +the first time the hissing lash. Only fifty yards more. The +miners begin to yell. But Baptiste, waving his lines high in one +hand seizes his tuque with the other, whirls it about his head and +flings it with a fiercer yell than ever at the bronchos. Like the +bursting of a hurricane the pintos leap forward, and with a +splendid rush cross the scratch, winners by their own length. + +There was a wild quarter of an hour. The shantymen had torn off +their coats and were waving them wildly and tossing them high, +while the ranchers added to the uproar by emptying their revolvers +into the air in a way that made one nervous. + +When the crowd was somewhat quieted Sandy's stiff figure appeared, +slowly making towards them. A dozen lumbermen ran to him, eagerly +inquiring if he were hurt. But Sandy could only curse the little +Frenchman for losing the race. + +'Lost! Why, man, we've won it!' shouted a voice, at which Sandy's +rage vanished, and he allowed himself to be carried in upon the +shoulders of his admirers. + +'Where's the lad?' was his first question. + +The bronchos are off with him. He's down at the rapids like +enough.' + +'Let me go,' shouted Sandy, setting off at a run in the track of +the sleigh. He had not gone far before he met Baptiste coming back +with his team foaming, the roans going quietly, but the bronchos +dancing, and eager to be at it again. + +'Voila! bully boy! tank the bon Dieu, Sandy; you not keel, heh? +Ah! you are one grand chevalier,' exclaimed Baptiste, hauling Sandy +in and thrusting the lines into his hands. And so they came back, +the sleigh box still dragging behind, the pintos executing +fantastic figures on their hind legs, and Sandy holding them down. +The little Frenchman struck a dramatic attitude and called out-- + +'Voila! What's the matter wiz Sandy, heh?' + +The roar that answered set the bronchos off again plunging and +kicking, and only when Baptiste got them by the heads could they be +induced to stand long enough to allow Sandy to be proclaimed winner +of the race. Several of the lumbermen sprang into the sleigh box +with Sandy and Baptiste, among them Keefe, followed by Nelson, and +the first part of the great day was over. Slavin could not +understand the new order of things. That a great event like the +four-horse race should not be followed by 'drinks all round' was to +him at once disgusting and incomprehensible; and, realising his +defeat for the moment, he fell into the crowd and disappeared. But +he left behind him his 'runners.' He had not yet thrown up the +game. + +Mr. Craig meantime came to me, and, looking anxiously after Sandy +in his sleigh, with his frantic crowd of yelling admirers, said in +a gloomy voice, 'Poor Sandy! He is easily caught, and Keefe has +the devil's cunning.' + +'He won't touch Slavin's whisky to-day,' I answered confidently. + +'There'll be twenty bottles waiting him in the stable,' he replied +bitterly, 'and I can't go following him up.' + +'He won't stand that, no man would. God help us all.' I could +hardly recognise myself, for I found in my heart an earnest echo to +that prayer as I watched him go toward the crowd again, his face +set in strong determination. He looked like the captain of a +forlorn hope, and I was proud to be following him. + + +CHAPTER III + +WATERLOO. OUR FIGHT--HIS VICTORY + + +The sports were over, and there remained still an hour to be filled +in before dinner. It was an hour full of danger to Craig's hopes +of victory, for the men were wild with excitement, and ready for +the most reckless means of 'slinging their dust.' I could not but +admire the skill with which Mr. Craig caught their attention. + +'Gentlemen,' he called out, 'we've forgotten the judge of the great +race. Three cheers for Mr. Connor!' + +Two of the shantymen picked me up and hoisted me on their shoulders +while the cheers were given. + +'Announce the Punch and Judy,' he entreated me, in a low voice. I +did so in a little speech, and was forthwith borne aloft, through +the street to the booth, followed by the whole crowd, cheering like +mad. + +The excitement of the crowd caught me, and for an hour I squeaked +and worked the wires of the immortal and unhappy family in a manner +hitherto unapproached by me at least. I was glad enough when +Graeme came to tell me to send the men in to dinner. This Mr. +Punch did in the most gracious manner, and again with cheers for +Punch's master they trooped tumultuously into the tent. + +We had only well begun when Baptiste came in quietly but hurriedly +and whispered to me-- + +'M'sieu Craig, he's gone to Slavin's, and would lak you and M'sieu +Graeme would follow queek. Sandy he's take one leel drink up at de +stable, and he's go mad lak one diable.' + +I sent him for Graeme, who was presiding at dinner, and set off for +Slavin's at a run. There I found Mr. Craig and Nelson holding +Sandy, more than half drunk, back from Slavin, who, stripped to the +shirt, was coolly waiting with a taunting smile. + +'Let me go, Mr. Craig,' Sandy was saying, 'I am a good Presbyterian. +He is a Papist thief; and he has my money; and I will have it out +of the soul of him.' + +'Let him go, preacher,' sneered Slavin, 'I'll cool him off for yez. +But ye'd better hold him if yez wants his mug left on to him.' + +'Let him go!' Keefe was shouting. + +'Hands off!' Blaney was echoing. + +I pushed my way in. 'What's up?' I cried. + +'Mr. Connor,' said Sandy solemnly, 'it is a gentleman you are, +though your name is against you, and I am a good Presbyterian, +and I can give you the Commandments and Reasons annexed to them; +but yon's a thief, a Papist thief, and I am justified in getting my +money out of his soul.' + +'But,' I remonstrated, 'you won't get it in this way.' + +'He has my money,' reiterated Sandy. + +'He is a blank liar, and he's afraid to take it up,' said Slavin, +in a low, cool tone. + +With a roar Sandy broke away and rushed at him; but, without moving +from his tracks, Slavin met him with a straight left-hander and +laid him flat. + +'Hooray,' yelled Blaney, 'Ireland for ever!' and, seizing the iron +poker, swung it around his head, crying, 'Back, or, by the holy +Moses, I'll kill the first man that interferes wid the game.' + +'Give it to him!' Keefe said savagely. + +Sandy rose slowly, gazing round stupidly. + +'He don't know what hit him,' laughed Keefe. + +This roused the Highlander, and saying, 'I'll settle you afterwards, +Mister Keefe,' he rushed in again at Slavin. Again Slavin met him +again with his left, staggered him, and, before he fell, took a step +forward and delivered a terrific right-hand blow on his jaw. Poor +Sandy went down in a heap amid the yells of Blaney, Keefe, and some +others of the gang. I was in despair when in came Baptiste and +Graeme. + +One look at Sandy, and Baptiste tore off his coat and cap, +slammed them on the floor, danced on them, and with a long-drawn +'sap-r-r-r-rie,' rushed at Slavin. But Graeme caught him by the +back of the neck, saying, 'Hold on, little man,' and turning to +Slavin, pointed to Sandy, who was reviving under Nelson's care, +and said, 'What's this for?' + +'Ask him,' said Slavin insolently. 'He knows.' + +'What is it, Nelson?' + +Nelson explained that Sandy, after drinking some at the stable and +a glass at the Black Rock Hotel, had come down here with Keefe and +the others, had lost his money, and was accusing Slavin of robbing +him. + +'Did you furnish him with liquor?' said Graeme sternly. + +'It is none of your business,' replied Slavin, with an oath. + +'I shall make it my business. It is not the first time my men have +lost money in this saloon.' + +'You lie,' said Slavin, with deliberate emphasis. + +'Slavin,' said Graeme quietly, 'it's a pity you said that, because, +unless you apologise in one minute, I shall make you sorry.' + +'Apologise?' roared Slavin, 'apologise to you?' calling him a vile +name. + +Graeme grew white, and said even more slowly, 'Now you'll have to +take it; no apology will do.' + +He slowly stripped off coat and vest. Mr. Craig interposed, +begging Graeme to let the matter pass. 'Surely he is not worth +it.' + +'Mr. Craig,' said Graeme, with an easy smile, 'you don't +understand. No man can call me that name and walk around +afterwards feeling well.' + +Then, turning to Slavin, he said, 'Now, if you want a minute's +rest, I can wait.' + +Slavin, with a curse, bade him come. + +'Blaney,' said Graeme sharply, 'you get back.' Blaney promptly +stepped back to Keefe's side. 'Nelson, you and Baptiste can see +that they stay there.' The old man nodded and looked at Craig, who +simply said, 'Do the best you can.' + +It was a good fight. Slavin had plenty of pluck, and for a time +forced the fighting, Graeme guarding easily and tapping him +aggravatingly about the nose and eyes, drawing blood, but not +disabling him. Gradually there came a look of fear into Slavin's +eyes, and the beads stood upon his face. He had met his master. + +'Now, Slavin, you're beginning to be sorry; and now I am going to +show you what you are made of.' Graeme made one or two lightning +passes, struck Slavin one, two, three terrific blows, and laid him +quite flat and senseless. Keefe and Blaney both sprang forward, +but there was a savage kind of growl. + +'Hold, there!' It was old man Nelson looking along a pistol +barrel. 'You know me, Keefe,' he said. 'You won't do any murder +this time.' + +Keefe turned green and yellow, and staggered back, while Slavin +slowly rose to his feet. + +'Will you take some more?' said Graeme. 'You haven't got much; but +mind I have stopped playing with you. Put up your gun, Nelson. No +one will interfere now.' + +Slavin hesitated, then rushed, but Graeme stepped to meet him, and +we saw Slavin's heels in the air as he fell back upon his neck and +shoulders and lay still, with his toes quivering. + +'Bon!' yelled Baptiste. 'Bully boy! Dat's de bon stuff. Dat's +larn him one good lesson.' But immediately he shrieked, +Gar-r-r-r-e a vous!' + +He was too late, for there was a crash of breaking glass, and +Graeme fell to the floor with a long deep cut on the side of his +head. Keefe had hurled a bottle with all too sure an aim, and had +fled. I thought he was dead; but we carried him out, and in a few +minutes he groaned, opened his eyes, and sank again into +insensibility. + +'Where can we take him?' I cried. + +'To my shack,' said Mr. Craig. + +'Is there no place nearer?' + +'Yes; Mrs. Mavor's. I shall run on to tell her.' + +She met us at the door. I had in mind to say some words of +apology, but when I looked upon her face I forgot my words, forgot +my business at her door, and stood simply looking. + +'Come in! Bring him in! Please do not wait,' she said, and her +voice was sweet and soft and firm. + +We laid him in a large room at the back of the shop over which Mrs. +Mavor lived. Together we dressed the wound, her firm white +fingers, skilful as if with long training. Before the dressing was +finished I sent Craig off, for the time had come for the Magic +Lantern in the church, and I knew how critical the moment was in +our fight. 'Go,' I said; 'he is coming to, and we do not need +you.' + +In a few moments more Graeme revived, and, gazing about, asked, +'What's, all this about?' and then, recollecting, 'Ah! that brute +Keefe'; then seeing my anxious face he said carelessly, 'Awful +bore, ain't it? Sorry to trouble you, old fellow.' + +'You be hanged!' I said shortly; for his old sweet smile was +playing about his lips, and was almost too much for me. 'Mrs. +Mavor and I are in command, and you must keep perfectly still.' + +'Mrs. Mavor?' he said, in surprise. She came forward, with a +slight flush on her face. + +'I think you know me, Mr. Graeme.' + +'I have often seen you, and wished to know you. I am sorry to +bring you this trouble.' + +'You must not say so,' she replied, 'but let me do all for you that +I can. And now the doctor says you are to lie still.' + +'The doctor? Oh! you mean Connor. He is hardly there yet. You +don't know each other. Permit me to present Mr. Connor, Mrs. +Mavor.' + +As she bowed slightly, her eyes looked into mine with serious gaze, +not inquiring, yet searching my soul. As I looked into her eyes I +forgot everything about me, and when I recalled myself it seemed as +if I had been away in some far place. It was not their colour or +their brightness; I do not yet know their colour, and I have often +looked into them; and they were not bright; but they were clear, +and one could look far down into them, and in their depths see a +glowing, steady light. As I went to get some drugs from the Black +Rock doctor, I found myself wondering about that far-down light; +and about her voice, how it could get that sound from far away. + +I found the doctor quite drunk, as indeed Mr. Craig had warned; but +his drugs were good, and I got what I wanted and quickly returned. + +While Graeme slept Mrs. Mavor made me tea. As the evening wore on +I told her the events of the day, dwelling admiringly upon Craig's +generalship. She smiled at this. + +'He got me too,' she said. 'Nixon was sent to me just before the +sports; and I don't think he will break down to-day, and I am so +thankful.' And her eyes glowed. + +'I am quite sure he won't,' I thought to myself, but I said no +word. + +After a long pause, she went on, 'I have promised Mr. Craig to sing +to-night, if I am needed!' and then, after a moment's hesitation, +'It is two years since I have been able to sing--two years,' she +repeated, 'since'--and then her brave voice trembled--'my husband +was killed.' + +'I quite understand,' I said, having no other word on my tongue + +'And,' she went on quietly, 'I fear I have been selfish. It is +hard to sing the same songs. We were very happy. But the miners +like to hear me sing, and I think perhaps it helps them to feel +less lonely, and keeps them from evil. I shall try to-night, if I +am needed. Mr. Craig will not ask me unless he must.' + +I would have seen every miner and lumberman in the place hideously +drunk before I would have asked her to sing one song while her +heart ached. I wondered at Craig, and said, rather angrily-- + +'He thinks only of those wretched miners and shantymen of his.' + +She looked at me with wonder in her eyes, and said gently, 'And are +they not Christ's too?' + +And I found no word to reply. + +It was nearing ten o'clock, and I was wondering how the fight was +going, and hoping that Mrs. Mavor would not be needed, when the +door opened, and old man Nelson and Sandy, the latter much battered +and ashamed, came in with the word for Mrs. Mavor. + +'I will come,' she said simply. She saw me preparing to accompany +her, and asked, 'Do you think you can leave him?' + +'He will do quite well in Nelson's care.' + +'Then I am glad; for I must take my little one with me. I did not +put her to bed in case I should need to go, and I may not leave +her.' + +We entered the church by the back door, and saw at once that even +yet the battle might easily be lost. + +Some miners had just come from Slavin's, evidently bent on breaking +up the meeting, in revenge for the collapse of the dance, which +Slavin was unable to enjoy, much less direct. Craig was gallantly +holding his ground, finding it hard work to keep his men in good +humour, and so prevent a fight, for there were cries of 'Put him +out! Put the beast out!' at a miner half drunk and wholly +outrageous. + +The look of relief that came over his face when Craig caught sight +of us told how anxious he had been, and reconciled me to Mrs. +Mavor's singing. 'Thank the good God,' he said, with what came +near being a sob, 'I was about to despair.' + +He immediately walked to the front and called out-- + +'Gentlemen, if you wish it, Mrs. Mavor will sing.' + +There was a dead silence. Some one began to applaud, but a miner +said savagely, 'Stop that, you fool!' + +There was a few moments' delay, when from the crowd a voice called +out, 'Does Mrs. Mavor wish to sing?' followed by cries of 'Ay, +that's it.' Then Shaw, the foreman at the mines, stood up in the +audience and said-- + +'Mr. Craig and gentlemen, you know that three years ago I was known +as "Old Ricketts," and that I owe all I am to-night, under God, to +Mrs. Mavor, and'--with a little quiver in his voice--'her baby. +And we all know that for two years she has not sung; and we all +know why. And what I say is, that if she does not feel like +singing to-night, she is not going to sing to keep any drunken +brute of Slavin's crowd quiet.' + +There were deep growls of approval all over the church. I could +have hugged Shaw then and there. Mr. Craig went to Mrs. Mavor, and +after a word with her came back and said-- + +'Mrs. Mavor, wishes me to thank her dear friend Mr. Shaw, but says +she would like to sing.' + +The response was perfect stillness. Mr. Craig sat down to the +organ and played the opening bars of the touching melody, 'Oft in +the Stilly Night.' Mrs. Mavor came to the front, and, with a smile +of exquisite sweetness upon her sad face, and looking straight at +us with her glorious eyes, began to sing. + +Her voice, a rich soprano, even and true, rose and fell, now soft, +now strong, but always filling the building, pouring around us +floods of music. I had heard Patti's 'Home, sweet Home,' and of +all singing that alone affected me as did this. + +At the end of the first verse the few women in the church and some +men were weeping quietly; but when she began the words-- + + + 'When I remember all + The friends once linked together,' + + +sobs came on every side from these tender-hearted fellows, and Shaw +quite lost his grip. But she sang steadily on, the tone clearer +and sweeter and fuller at every note, and when the sound of her +voice died away, she stood looking at the men as if in wonder that +they should weep. No one moved. Mr. Craig played softly on, and, +wandering through many variations, arrived at last at + + + 'Jesus, lover of my soul.' + + +As she sang the appealing words, her face was lifted up, and she +saw none of us; but she must have seen some one, for the cry in her +voice could only come from one who could see and feel help close at +hand. On and on went the glorious voice, searching my soul's +depths; but when she came to the words-- + + + 'Thou, O Christ, art all I want,' + + +she stretched up her arms--she had quite forgotten us, her voice +had borne her to other worlds--and sang with such a passion of +'abandon' that my soul was ready to surrender anything, everything. + +Again Mr. Craig wandered on through his changing chords till again +he came to familiar ground, and the voice began, in low, thrilling +tones, Bernard's great song of home-- + + + 'Jerusalem the golden.' + + +Every word, with all its weight of meaning, came winging to our +souls, till we found ourselves gazing afar into those stately halls +of Zion, with their daylight serene and their jubilant throngs. +When the singer came to the last verse there was a pause. Again +Mr. Craig softly played the interlude, but still there was no +voice. I looked up. She was very white, and her eyes were glowing +with their deep light. Mr. Craig looked quickly about, saw her, +stopped, and half rose, as if to go to her, when, in a voice that +seemed to come from a far-off land, she went on-- + + + 'O sweet and blessed country!' + + +The longing, the yearning, in the second 'O' were indescribable. +Again and again, as she held that word, and then dropped down with +the cadence in the music, my heart ached for I knew not what. + +The audience were sitting as in a trance. The grimy faces of the +miners, for they never get quite white, were furrowed with the +tear-courses. Shaw, by this time, had his face too lifted high, +his eyes gazing far above the singer's head, and I knew by the +rapture in his face that he was seeing, as she saw, the thronging +stately halls and the white-robed conquerors. He had felt, and was +still feeling, all the stress of the fight, and to him the vision +of the conquerors in their glory was soul-drawing and soul- +stirring. And Nixon, too--he had his vision; but what he saw was +the face of the singer, with the shining eyes, and, by the look of +him, that was vision enough. + +Immediately after her last note Mrs. Mavor stretched out her hands +to her little girl, who was sitting on my knee, caught her up, and, +holding her close to her breast, walked quickly behind the curtain. +Not a sound followed the singing: no one moved till she had +disappeared; and then Mr. Craig came to the front, and, motioning +to me to follow Mrs. Mavor, began in a low, distinct voice-- + +'Gentlemen, it was not easy for Mrs. Mavor to sing for us, and you +know she sang because she is a miner's wife, and her heart is with +the miners. But she sang, too, because her heart is His who came +to earth this day so many years ago to save us all; and she would +make you love Him too. For in loving Him you are saved from all +base loves, and you know what I mean. + +'And before we say good-night, men, I want to know if the time is +not come when all of you who mean to be better than you are should +join in putting from us this thing that has brought sorrow and +shame to us and to those we love? You know what I mean. Some of +you are strong; will you stand by and see weaker men robbed of the +money they save for those far away, and robbed of the manhood that +no money can buy or restore? + +'Will the strong men help? Shall we all join hands in this? What +do you say? In this town we have often seen hell, and just a +moment ago we were all looking into heaven, "the sweet and blessed +country." O men!' and his voice rang in an agony through the +building--'O men! which shall be ours? For Heaven's dear sake, let +us help one another! Who will?' + +I was looking out through a slit in the curtain. The men, already +wrought to intense feeling by the music, were listening with set +faces and gleaming eyes, and as at the appeal 'Who will?' Craig +raised high his hand, Shaw, Nixon, and a hundred men sprang to +their feet and held high their hands. + +I have witnessed some thrilling scenes in my life, but never +anything to equal that: the one man on the platform standing at +full height, with his hand thrown up to heaven, and the hundred men +below standing straight, with arms up at full length, silent, and +almost motionless. + +For a moment Craig held them so; and again his voice rang out, +louder, sterner than before-- + +'All who mean it, say, "By God's help I will."' And back from a +hundred throats came deep and strong the words, 'By God's help, I +will.' + +At this point Mrs. Mavor, whom I had quite forgotten, put her hand +on my arm. 'Go and tell him,' she panted, 'I want them to come on +Thursday night, as they used to in the other days--go--quick,' and +she almost pushed me out. I gave Craig her message. He held up +his hand for silence. + +'Mrs. Mavor wishes me to say that she will be glad to see you all, +as in the old days, on Thursday evening; and I can think of no +better place to give formal expression to our pledge of this night' + +There was a shout of acceptance; and then, at some one's call, the +long pent-up feelings of the crowd found vent in three mighty +cheers for Mrs. Mavor. + +'Now for our old hymn,' called out Mr. Craig, 'and Mrs. Mavor will +lead us.' + +He sat down at the organ, played a few bars of 'The Sweet By and +By,' and then Mrs. Mavor began. But not a soul joined till the +refrain was reached, and then they sang as only men with their +hearts on fire can sing. But after the last refrain Mr. Craig made +a sign to Mrs. Mavor, and she sang alone, slowly and softly, and +with eyes looking far away-- + + + 'In the sweet by and by, + We shall meet on that beautiful shore.' + + +There was no benediction--there seemed no need; and the men went +quietly out. But over and over again the voice kept singing in my +ears and in my heart, 'We shall meet on that beautiful shore.' And +after the sleigh-loads of men had gone and left the street empty, +as I stood with Craig in the radiant moonlight that made the great +mountains about come near us, from Sandy's sleigh we heard in the +distance Baptiste's French-English song; but the song that floated +down with the sound of the bells from the miners' sleigh was-- + + + 'We shall meet on that beautiful shore.' + + +'Poor old Shaw!' said Craig softly. + +When the last sound had died away I turned to him and said-- + +'You have won your fight.' + +'We have won our fight; I was beaten,' he replied quickly, offering +me his hand. Then, taking off his cap, and looking up beyond the +mountain-tops and the silent stars, he added softly, 'Our fight, +but His victory.' + +And, thinking it all over, I could not say but perhaps he was +right. + + +CHAPTER IV + +MRS. MAVOR'S STORY + + +The days that followed the Black Rock Christmas were anxious days +and weary, but not for the brightest of my life would I change them +now; for, as after the burning heat or rocking storm the dying day +lies beautiful in the tender glow of the evening, so these days +have lost their weariness and lie bathed in a misty glory. The +years that bring us many ills, and that pass so stormfully over us, +bear away with them the ugliness, the weariness, the pain that are +theirs, but the beauty, the sweetness, the rest they leave untouched, +for these are eternal. As the mountains, that near at hand stand +jagged and scarred, in the far distance repose in their soft robes +of purple haze, so the rough present fades into the past, soft and +sweet and beautiful. + +I have set myself to recall the pain and anxiety of those days and +nights when we waited in fear for the turn of the fever, but I can +only think of the patience and gentleness and courage of her who +stood beside me, bearing more than half my burden. And while I can +see the face of Leslie Graeme, ghastly or flushed, and hear his low +moaning or the broken words of his delirium, I think chiefly of the +bright face bending over him, and of the cool, firm, swift-moving +hands that soothed and smoothed and rested, and the voice, like the +soft song of a bird in the twilight, that never failed to bring +peace. + +Mrs. Mavor and I were much together during those days. I made my +home in Mr. Craig's shack, but most of my time was spent beside my +friend. We did not see much of Craig, for he was heart-deep with +the miners, laying plans for the making of the League the following +Thursday; and though he shared our anxiety and was ever ready to +relieve us, his thought and his talk had mostly to do with the +League. + +Mrs. Mavor's evenings were given to the miners, but her afternoons +mostly to Graeme and to me, and then it was I saw another side of +her character. We would sit in her little dining-room, where the +pictures on the walls, the quaint old silver, and bits of curiously +cut glass, all spoke of other and different days, and thence we +would roam the world of literature and art. Keenly sensitive to +all the good and beautiful in these, she had her favourites among +the masters, for whom she was ready to do battle; and when her +argument, instinct with fancy and vivid imagination, failed, she +swept away all opposing opinion with the swift rush of her +enthusiasm; so that, though I felt she was beaten, I was left +without words to reply. Shakespeare and Tennyson and Burns she +loved, but not Shelley, nor Byron, nor even Wordsworth. Browning +she knew not, and therefore could not rank him with her noblest +three; but when I read to her 'A Death in the Desert,' and, came to +the noble words at the end of the tale-- + + + 'For all was as I say, and now the man + Lies as he once lay, breast to breast with God,' + + +the light shone in her eyes, and she said, 'Oh, that is good and +great; I shall get much out of him; I had always feared he was +impossible.' And 'Paracelsus,' too, stirred her; but when I +recited the thrilling fragment, 'Prospice,' on to that closing +rapturous cry-- + + + 'Then a light, then thy breast, + O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, + And with God be the rest!'-- + + +the red colour faded from her cheek, her breath came in a sob, and +she rose quickly and passed out without a word. Ever after, +Browning was among her gods. But when we talked of music, she, +adoring Wagner, soared upon the wings of the mighty Tannhauser, far +above, into regions unknown, leaving me to walk soberly with +Beethoven and Mendelssohn. Yet with all our free, frank talk, +there was all the while that in her gentle courtesy which kept me +from venturing into any chamber of her life whose door she did not +set freely open to me. So I vexed myself about her, and when Mr. +Craig returned the next week from the Landing where he had been for +some days, my first question was-- + +'Who is Mrs. Mavor? And how in the name of all that is wonderful +and unlikely does she come to be here? And why does she stay?' + +He would not answer then; whether it was that his mind was full of +the coming struggle, or whether he shrank from the tale, I know +not; but that night, when we sat together beside his fire, he told +me the story, while I smoked. He was worn with his long, hard +drive, and with the burden of his work, but as he went on with his +tale, looking into the fire as he told it, he forgot all his +present weariness and lived again the scenes he painted for me. +This was his story:-- + +'I remember well my first sight of her, as she sprang from the +front seat of the stage to the ground, hardly touching her +husband's hand. She looked a mere girl. Let's see--five years +ago--she couldn't have been a day over twenty three. She looked +barely twenty. Her swift glance swept over the group of miners at +the hotel door, and then rested on the mountains standing in all +their autumn glory. + +'I was proud of our mountains that evening. Turning to her +husband, she exclaimed: "O Lewis, are they not grand? and lovely, +too?" Every miner lost his heart then and there, but all waited +for Abe the driver to give his verdict before venturing an opinion. +Abe said nothing until he had taken a preliminary drink, and then, +calling all hands to fill up, he lifted his glass high, and said +solemnly-- + +'"Boys, here's to her." + +'Like a flash every glass was emptied, and Abe called out, "Fill +her up again, boys! My treat!" + +'He was evidently quite worked up. Then he began, with solemn +emphasis-- + +'"Boys, you hear me! She's a No. 1, triple X, the pure quill with +a bead on it: she's a--," and for the first time in his Black Rock +history Abe was stuck for a word. Some one suggested "angel." + +'"Angel!" repeated Abe, with infinite contempt. "Angel be blowed," +(I paraphrase here); "angels ain't in the same month with her; I'd +like to see any blanked angel swing my team around them curves +without a shiver." + +'"Held the lines herself, Abe?" asked a miner. + +'"That's what," said Abe; and then he went off into a fusilade of +scientific profanity, expressive of his esteem for the girl who had +swung his team round the curves; and the miners nodded to each +other, and winked their entire approval of Abe's performance, for +this was his specialty. + +'Very decent fellow, Abe, but his talk wouldn't print.' + +Here Craig paused, as if balancing Abe's virtues and vices. + +'Well,' I urged, 'who is she?' + +'Oh yes,' he said, recalling himself; 'she is an Edinburgh young +lady--met Lewis Mayor, a young Scotch-English man, in London-- +wealthy, good family, and all that, but fast, and going to pieces +at home. His people, who own large shares in these mines here, as +a last resort sent him out here to reform. Curiously innocent +ideas those old country people have of the reforming properties of +this atmosphere! They send their young bloods here to reform. +Here! in this devil's camp-ground, where a man's lust is his only +law, and when, from sheer monotony, a man must betake himself to +the only excitement of the place--that offered by the saloon. Good +people in the east hold up holy hands of horror at these godless +miners; but I tell you it's asking these boys a good deal to keep +straight and clean in a place like this. I take my excitement in +fighting the devil and doing my work generally, and that gives me +enough; but these poor chaps--hard worked, homeless, with no break +or change--God help them and me!' and his voice sank low. + +'Well,' I persisted, 'did Mavor reform?' + +Again he roused himself. 'Reform? Not exactly. In six-months he +had broken through all restraint; and, mind you, not the miners' +fault--not a miner helped him down. It was a sight to make angels +weep when Mrs. Mavor would come to the saloon door for her husband. +Every miner would vanish; they could not look upon her shame, and +they would send Mavor forth in the charge of Billy Breen, a queer +little chap, who had belonged to the Mavors in some way in the old +country, and between them they would get him home. How she stood +it puzzles me to this day; but she never made any sign, and her +courage never failed. It was always a bright, brave, proud face +she held up to the world--except in church; there it was different. +I used to preach my sermons, I believe, mostly for her--but never +so that she could suspect--as bravely and as cheerily as I could. +And as she listened, and especially as she sang--how she used to +sing in those days!--there was no touch of pride in her face, +though the courage never died out, but appeal, appeal! I could +have cursed aloud the cause of her misery, or wept for the pity of +it. Before her baby was born he seemed to pull himself together, +for he was quite mad about her, and from the day the baby came-- +talk about miracles!--from that day he never drank a drop. She +gave the baby over to him, and the baby simply absorbed him. + +'He was a new man. He could not drink whisky and kiss his baby. +And the miners--it was really absurd if it were not so pathetic. +It was the first baby in Black Rock, and they used to crowd Mavor's +shop and peep into the room at the back of it--I forgot to tell you +that when he lost his position as manager he opened a hardware +shop, for his people chucked him, and he was too proud to write +home for money--just for a chance to be asked in to see the baby. +I came upon Nixon standing at the back of the shop after he had +seen the baby for the first time, sobbing hard, and to my question +he replied: "It's just like my own." You can't understand this. +But to men who have lived so long in the mountains that they have +forgotten what a baby looks like, who have had experience of +humanity only in its roughest, foulest form, this little mite, +sweet and clean, was like an angel fresh from heaven, the one link +in all that black camp that bound them to what was purest and best +in their past. + +'And to see the mother and her baby handle the miners! + +'Oh, it was all beautiful beyond words! I shall never forget the +shock I got one night when I found "Old Ricketts" nursing the baby. +A drunken old beast he was; but there he was sitting, sober enough, +making extraordinary faces at the baby, who was grabbing at his +nose and whiskers and cooing in blissful delight. Poor "Old +Ricketts" looked as if he had been caught stealing, and muttering +something about having to go, gazed wildly round for some place in +which to lay the baby, when in came the mother, saying in her own +sweet, frank way: "O Mr. Ricketts" (she didn't find out till +afterwards his name was Shaw), "would you mind keeping her just a +little longer?--I shall be back in a few minutes." And "Old +Ricketts" guessed he could wait. + +'But in six months mother and baby, between them, transformed "Old +Ricketts" into Mr. Shaw, fire-boss of the mines. And then in the +evenings, when she would be singing her baby to sleep, the little +shop would be full of miners, listening in dead silence to the +baby-songs, and the English songs, and the Scotch songs she poured +forth without stint, for she sang more for them than for her baby. +No wonder they adored her. She was so bright, so gay, she brought +light with her when she went into the camp, into the pits--for she +went down to see the men work--or into a sick miner's shack; and +many a man, lonely and sick for home or wife, or baby or mother, +found in that back room cheer and comfort and courage, and to many +a poor broken wretch that room became, as one miner put it, "the +anteroom to heaven."' + +Mr. Craig paused, and I waited. Then he went on slowly-- + +'For a year and a half that was the happiest home in all the world, +till one day--' + +He put his face in his hands, and shuddered. + +'I don't think I can ever forget the awful horror of that bright +fall afternoon, when "Old Ricketts" came breathless to me and +gasped, "Come! for the dear Lord's sake," and I rushed after him. +At the mouth of the shaft lay three men dead. One was Lewis Mavor. +He had gone down to superintend the running of a new drift; the two +men, half drunk with Slavin's whisky, set off a shot prematurely, +to their own and Mavor's destruction. They were badly burned, but +his face was untouched. A miner was sponging off the bloody froth +oozing from his lips. The others were standing about waiting for +me to speak. But I could find no word, for my heart was sick, +thinking, as they were, of the young mother and her baby waiting at +home. So I stood, looking stupidly from one to the other, trying +to find some reason--coward that I was--why another should bear the +news rather than I. And while we stood there, looking at one +another in fear, there broke upon us the sound of a voice mounting +high above the birch tops, singing-- + + + "Will ye no' come back again? + Will ye no' come back again? + Better lo'ed ye canna be, + Will ye no' come back again?" + + +'A strange terror seized us. Instinctively the men closed up in +front of the body, and stood in silence. Nearer and nearer came +the clear, sweet voice, ringing like a silver bell up the steep-- + + + "Sweet the lav'rock's note and lang, + Liltin' wildly up the glen, + But aye tae me he sings ae sang, + Will ye no' come back again?" + + +'Before the verse was finished "Old Ricketts" had dropped on his +knees, sobbing out brokenly, "O God! O God! have pity, have pity, +have pity!"--and every man took off his hat. And still the voice +came nearer, singing so brightly the refrain, + + + '"Will ye no' come back again?' + + +'It became unbearable. "Old Ricketts" sprang suddenly to his feet, +and, gripping me by the arm, said piteously, "Oh, go to her! for +Heaven's sake, go to her!" I next remember standing in her path +and seeing her holding out her hands full of red lilies, crying +out, "Are they not lovely? Lewis is so fond of them!" With the +promise of much finer ones I turned her down a path toward the +river, talking I know not what folly, till her great eyes grew +grave, then anxious, and my tongue stammered and became silent. +Then, laying her hand upon my arm, she said with gentle sweetness, +"Tell me your trouble, Mr. Craig," and I knew my agony had come, +and I burst out, "Oh, if it were only mine!" She turned quite +white, and with her deep eyes--you've noticed her eyes--drawing the +truth out of mine, she said, "Is it mine, Mr. Craig, and my +baby's?" I waited, thinking with what words to begin. She put one +hand to her heart, and with the other caught a little poplar-tree +that shivered under her grasp, and said with white lips, but even +more gently, "Tell me." I wondered at my voice being so steady as +I said, "Mrs. Mavor, God will help you and your baby. There has +been an accident--and it is all over." + +'She was a miner's wife, and there was no need for more. I could +see the pattern of the sunlight falling through the trees upon the +grass. I could hear the murmur of the river, and the cry of the +cat-bird in the bushes, but we seemed to be in a strange and unreal +world. Suddenly she stretched out her hands to me, and with a +little moan said, "Take me to him." + +'"Sit down for a moment or two," I entreated. + +'"No, no! I am quite ready. See," she added quietly, "I am quite +strong." + +'I set off by a short cut leading to her home, hoping the men would +be there before us; but, passing me, she walked swiftly through the +trees, and I followed in fear. As we came near the main path I +heard the sound of feet, and I tried to stop her, but she, too, had +heard and knew. "Oh, let me go!" she said piteously; "you need not +fear." And I had not the heart to stop her. In a little opening +among the pines we met the bearers. When the men saw her, they +laid their burden gently down upon the carpet of yellow pine- +needles, and then, for they had the hearts of true men in them, +they went away into the bushes and left her alone with her dead. +She went swiftly to his side, making no cry, but kneeling beside +him she stroked his face and hands, and touched his curls with her +fingers, murmuring all the time soft words of love. "O my darling, +my bonnie, bonnie darling, speak to me! Will ye not speak to me +just one little word? O my love, my love, my heart's love! +Listen, my darling!" And she put her lips to his ear, whispering, +and then the awful stillness. Suddenly she lifted her head and +scanned his face, and then, glancing round with a wild surprise in +her eyes, she cried, "He will not speak to me! Oh, he will not +speak to me!" I signed to the men, and as they came forward I went +to her and took her hands. + +'"Oh," she said with a wail in her voice; "he will not speak to +me." The men were sobbing aloud. She looked at them with wide- +open eyes of wonder. "Why are they weeping? Will he never speak +to me again? Tell me," she insisted gently. The words were +running through my head-- + + + '"There's a land that is fairer than day," + + +and I said them over to her, holding her hands firmly in mine. She +gazed at me as if in a dream, and the light slowly faded from her +eyes as she said, tearing her hands from mine and waving them +towards the mountains and the woods-- + +'"But never more here? Never more here?" + +'I believe in heaven and the other life, but I confess that for a +moment it all seemed shadowy beside the reality of this warm, +bright world, full of life and love. She was very ill for two +nights, and when the coffin was closed a new baby lay in the +father's arms. + +'She slowly came back to life, but there were no more songs. The +miners still come about her shop, and talk to her baby, and bring +her their sorrows and troubles; but though she is always gentle, +almost tender, with them, no man ever says "Sing." And that is why +I am glad she sang last week; it will be good for her and good for +them.' + +'Why does she stay?' I asked. + +'Mavor's people wanted her to go to them,' he replied. + +'They have money--she told me about it, but her heart is in the +grave up there under the pines; and besides, she hopes to do +something for the miners, and she will not leave them.' + +I am afraid I snorted a little impatiently as I said, 'Nonsense! +why, with her face, and manner, and voice she could be anything she +liked in Edinburgh or in London.' + +'And why Edinburgh or London?' he asked coolly. + +'Why?' I repeated a little hotly. 'You think this is better?' + +'Nazareth was good enough for the Lord of glory,' he answered, with +a smile none too bright; but it drew my heart to him, and my heat +was gone. + +'How long will she stay?' I asked. + +'Till her work is done,' he replied. + +'And when will that be?' I asked impatiently. + +'When God chooses,' he answered gravely; 'and don't you ever think +but that it is worth while. One value of work is not that crowds +stare at it. Read history, man!' + +He rose abruptly and began to walk about. 'And don't miss the +whole meaning of the Life that lies at the foundation of your +religion. Yes,' he added to himself, 'the work is worth doing-- +worth even her doing.' + +I could not think so then, but the light of the after years proved +him wiser than I. A man, to see far, must climb to some height, +and I was too much upon the plain in those days to catch even a +glimpse of distant sunlit uplands of triumphant achievement that +lie beyond the valley of self-sacrifice. + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MAKING OF THE LEAGUE + + +Thursday morning found Craig anxious, even gloomy, but with fight +in every line of his face. I tried to cheer him in my clumsy way +by chaffing him about his League. But he did not blaze up as he +often did. It was a thing too near his heart for that. He only +shrank a little from my stupid chaff and said-- + +'Don't, old chap; this is a good deal to me. I've tried for two +years to get this, and if it falls through now, I shall find it +hard to bear.' + +Then I repented my light words and said, 'Why! the thing will go +sure enough: after that scene in the church they won't go back.' + +'Poor fellows!' he said as if to himself; 'whisky is about the only +excitement they have, and they find it pretty tough to give it up; +and a lot of the men are against the total abstinence idea. It +seems rot to them.' + +'It is pretty steep,' I said. 'Can't you do without it?' + +'No; I fear not. There is nothing else for it. Some of them talk +of compromise. They want to quit the saloon and drink quietly in +their shacks. The moderate drinker may have his place in other +countries, though I can't see it. I haven't thought that out, but +here the only safe man is the man who quits it dead and fights it +straight; anything else is sheerest humbug and nonsense.' + +I had not gone in much for total abstinence up to this time, +chiefly because its advocates seemed for the most part to be +somewhat ill-balanced; but as I listened to Craig, I began to feel +that perhaps there was a total abstinence side to the temperance +question; and as to Black Rock, I could see how it must be one +thing or the other. + +We found Mrs. Mavor brave and bright. She shared Mr. Craig's +anxiety but not his gloom. Her courage was of that serene kind +that refuses to believe defeat possible, and lifts the spirit into +the triumph of final victory. Through the past week she had been +carefully disposing her forces and winning recruits. And yet she +never seemed to urge or persuade the men; but as evening after +evening the miners dropped into the cosy room downstairs, with her +talk and her songs she charmed them till they were wholly hers. +She took for granted their loyalty, trusted them utterly, and so +made it difficult for them to be other than true men. + +That night Mrs. Mavor's large storeroom, which had been fitted up +with seats, was crowded with miners when Mr. Craig and I entered. + +After a glance over the crowd, Craig said, 'There's the manager; +that means war.' And I saw a tall man, very fair, whose chin fell +away to the vanishing point, and whose hair was parted in the +middle, talking to Mrs. Mavor. She was dressed in some rich soft +stuff that became her well. She was looking beautiful as ever, but +there was something quite new in her manner. Her air of good- +fellowship was gone, and she was the high-bred lady, whose gentle +dignity and sweet grace, while very winning, made familiarity +impossible. + +The manager was doing his best, and appeared to be well pleased +with himself. 'She'll get him if any one can. I failed,' said +Craig. + +I stood looking at the men, and a fine lot of fellows they were. +Free, easy, bold in their bearing, they gave no sign of rudeness; +and, from their frequent glances toward Mrs. Mavor, I could see +they were always conscious of her presence. No men are so truly +gentle as are the Westerners in the presence of a good woman. They +were evidently of all classes and ranks originally, but now, and in +this country of real measurements, they ranked simply according to +the 'man' in them. 'See that handsome, young chap of dissipated +appearance?' said Craig; 'that's Vernon Winton, an Oxford graduate, +blue blood, awfully plucky, but quite gone. When he gets +repentant, instead of shooting himself, he comes to Mrs. Mavor. +Fact.' + +'From Oxford University to Black Rock mining camp is something of a +step,' I replied. + +'That queer-looking little chap in the corner is Billy Breen. How +in the world has he got here?' went on Mr. Craig. Queer-looking he +was. A little man, with a small head set on heavy square +shoulders, long arms, and huge hands that sprawled all over his +body; altogether a most ungainly specimen of humanity. + +By this time Mrs. Mavor had finished with the manager, and was in +the centre of a group of miners. Her grand air was all gone, and +she was their comrade, their friend, one of themselves. Nor did +she assume the role of entertainer, but rather did she, with half- +shy air, cast herself upon their chivalry, and they were too truly +gentlemen to fail her. It is hard to make Western men, and +especially old-timers, talk. But this gift was hers, and it +stirred my admiration to see her draw on a grizzled veteran to tell +how, twenty years ago, he had crossed the Great Divide, and had +seen and done what no longer fell to men to see or do in these new +days. And so she won the old-timer. But it was beautiful to see +the innocent guile with which she caught Billy Breen, and drew him +to her corner near the organ. What she was saying I knew not, but +poor Billy was protesting, waving his big hands. + +The meeting came to order, with Shaw in the chair, and the handsome +young Oxford man secretary. Shaw stated the object of the meeting +in a few halting words; but when he came to speak of the pleasure +he and all felt in being together in that room, his words flowed in +a stream, warm and full. Then there was a pause, and Mr. Craig was +called. But he knew better than to speak at that point. Finally +Nixon rose hesitatingly; but, as he caught a bright smile from Mrs. +Mavor, he straightened himself as if for a fight. + +'I ain't no good at makin' speeches,' he began; 'but it ain't +speeches we want. We've got somethin' to do, and what we want to +know is how to do it. And to be right plain, we want to know how +to drive this cursed whisky out of Black Rock. You all know what +it's doing for us--at least for some of us. And it's time to stop +it now, or for some of us it'll mighty soon be too late. And the +only way to stop its work is to quit drinkin' it and help others to +quit. I hear some talk of a League, and what I say is, if it's a +League out and out against whisky, a Total Abstinence right to the +ground, then I'm with it--that's my talk--I move we make that kind +of League.' + +Nixon sat down amid cheers and a chorus of remarks, 'Good man!' +'That's the talk!' 'Stay with it!' but he waited for the smile and +the glance that came to him from the beautiful face in the corner, +and with that he seemed content. + +Again there was silence. Then the secretary rose with a slight +flush upon his handsome, delicate face, and seconded the motion. +If they would pardon a personal reference he would give them his +reasons. He had come to this country to make his fortune; now he +was anxious to make enough to enable him to go home with some +degree of honour. His home held everything that was dear to him. +Between him and that home, between him and all that was good and +beautiful and honourable, stood whisky. 'I am ashamed to confess,' +and the flush deepened on his cheek, and his lips grew thinner, +'that I feel the need of some such league.' His handsome face, his +perfect style of address, learned possibly in the 'Union,' but, +more than all, his show of nerve--for these men knew how to value +that--made a strong impression on his audience; but there were no +following cheers. + +Mr. Craig appeared hopeful; but on Mrs. Mavor's face there was a +look of wistful, tender pity, for she knew how much the words had +cost the lad. + +Then up rose a sturdy, hard-featured man, with a burr in his voice +that proclaimed his birth. His name was George Crawford, I +afterwards learned, but every one called him Geordie. He was a +character in his way, fond of his glass; but though he was never +known to refuse a drink, he was never known to be drunk. He took +his drink, for the most part, with bread and cheese in his own +shack, or with a friend or two in a sober, respectable way, but +never could be induced to join the wild carousals in Slavin's +saloon. He made the highest wages, but was far too true a Scot to +spend his money recklessly. Every one waited eagerly to hear +Geordie's mind. He spoke solemnly, as befitted a Scotsman +expressing a deliberate opinion, and carefully, as if choosing his +best English, for when Geordie became excited no one in Black Rock +could understand him. + +'Maister Chairman,' said Geordie, 'I'm aye for temperance in a' +things.' There was a shout of laughter, at which Geordie gazed +round in pained surprise. 'I'll no' deny,' he went on in an +explanatory tone, 'that I tak ma mornin', an' maybe a nip at noon; +an' a wee drap aifter wark in the evenin', an' whiles a sip o' +toddy wi' a freen thae cauld nichts. But I'm no' a guzzler, an' I +dinna gang in wi' thae loons flingin' aboot guid money.' + +'And that's thrue for you, me bye,' interrupted a rich Irish +brogue, to the delight of the crowd and the amazement of Geordie, +who went calmly on-- + +'An' I canna bide yon saloon whaur they sell sic awfu'-like stuff-- +it's mair like lye nor guid whisky,--and whaur ye're never sure o' +yer richt change. It's an awfu'-like place; man!'--and Geordie +began to warm up--'ye can juist smell the sulphur when ye gang in. +But I dinna care aboot thae Temperance Soceeities, wi' their +pledges an' havers; an' I canna see what hairm can come till a man +by takin' a bottle o' guid Glenlivet hame wi' him. I canna bide +thae teetotal buddies.' + +Geordie's speech was followed by loud applause, partly appreciative +of Geordie himself, but largely sympathetic with his position. + +Two or three men followed in the same strain advocating a league +for mutual improvement and social purposes, but without the +teetotal pledge; they were against the saloon, but didn't see why +they should not take a drink now and then. + +Finally the manager rose to support his 'friend, Mistah--ah-- +Cwafoad,' ridiculing the idea of a total abstinence pledge as +fanatical and indeed 'absuad.' He was opposed to the saloon, and +would like to see a club formed, with a comfortable club-room, +books, magazines, pictures, games, anything, 'dontcheknow, to make +the time pass pleasantly'; but it was 'absuad to ask men to abstain +fwom a pwopah use of--aw--nouwishing dwinks,' because some men made +beasts of themselves. He concluded by offering $50.00 towards the +support of such a club. + +The current of feeling was setting strongly against the total +abstinence idea, and Craig's face was hard and his eyes gleamed +like coals. Then he did a bit of generalship. He proposed that +since they had the two plans clearly before them they should take a +few minutes' intermission in which to make up their minds, and he +was sure they would be glad to have Mrs. Mavor sing. In the +interval the men talked in groups, eagerly, even fiercely, hampered +seriously in the forceful expression of their opinion by the +presence of Mrs. Mavor, who glided from group to group, dropping a +word here and a smile there. She reminded me of a general riding +along the ranks, bracing his men for the coming battle. She paused +beside Geordie, spoke earnestly for a few moments, while Geordie +gazed solemnly at her, and then she came back to Billy in the +corner near me. What she was saying I could not hear, but poor +Billy was protesting, spreading his hands out aimlessly before him, +but gazing at her the while in dumb admiration. Then she came to +me. 'Poor Billy, he was good to my husband,' she said softly, 'and +he has a good heart.' + +'He's not much to look at,' I could not help saying. + +'The oyster hides its pearl,' she answered, a little reproachfully. + +'The shell is apparent enough,' I replied, for the mischief was in +me. + +'Ah yes,' she replied softly, 'but it is the pearl we love.' + +I moved over beside Billy, whose eyes were following Mrs. Mavor as +she went to speak to Mr. Craig. 'Well,' I said; 'you all seem to +have a high opinion of her.' + +'An 'igh hopinion,' he replied, in deep scorn. 'An 'igh hopinion, +you calls it.' + +'What would you call it?' I asked, wishing to draw him out. + +'Oi don't call it nothink,' he replied, spreading out his rough +hands. + +'She seems very nice,' I said indifferently. + +He drew his eyes away from Mrs. Mavor, and gave attention to me for +the first time. + +'Nice!' he repeated with fine contempt; and then he added +impressively, 'Them as don't know shouldn't say nothink.' + +'You are right,' I answered earnestly, 'and I am quite of your +opinion.' + +He gave me a quick glance out of his little, deep-set, dark-blue +eyes, and opened his heart to me. He told me, in his quaint +speech, how again and again she had taken him in and nursed him, +and encouraged him, and sent him out with a new heart for his +battle, until, for very shame's sake at his own miserable weakness, +he had kept out of her way for many months, going steadily down. + +'Now, oi hain't got no grip; but when she says to me to-night, says +she, "Oh, Billy"--she calls me Billy to myself' (this with a touch +of pride)--'"oh, Billy," says she, "we must 'ave a total +habstinence league to-night, and oi want you to 'elp!" and she +keeps a-lookin' at me with those heyes o' hern till, if you believe +me, sir,' lowering his voice to an emphatic whisper, 'though oi +knowed oi couldn't 'elp none, afore oi knowed oi promised 'er oi +would. It's 'er heyes. When them heyes says "do," hup you steps +and "does."' + +I remembered my first look into her eyes, and I could quite +understand Billy's submission. Just as she began to sing I went +over to Geordie and took my seat beside him. She began with an +English slumber song, 'Sleep, Baby, Sleep'--one of Barry +Cornwall's, I think,--and then sang a love-song with the refrain, +'Love once again'; but no thrills came to me, and I began to wonder +if her spell over me was broken. Geordie, who had been listening +somewhat indifferently, encouraged me, however, by saying, 'She's +just pittin' aff time with thae feckless sangs; man, there's nae +grup till them.' But when, after a few minutes' pause, she began +'My Ain Fireside,' Geordie gave a sigh of satisfaction. 'Ay, +that's somethin' like,' and when she finished the first verse he +gave me a dig in the ribs with his elbow that took my breath away, +saying in a whisper, 'Man, hear till yon, wull ye?' And again I +found the spell upon me. It was not the voice after all, but the +great soul behind that thrilled and compelled. She was seeing, +feeling, living what she sang, and her voice showed us her heart. +The cosy fireside, with its bonnie, blithe blink, where no care +could abide, but only peace and love, was vividly present to her, +and as she sang we saw it too. When she came to the last verse-- + + + 'When I draw in my stool + On my cosy hearth-stane, + My heart loups sae licht + I scarce ken't for my ain,' + + +there was a feeling of tears in the flowing song, and we knew the +words had brought her a picture of the fireside that would always +seem empty. I felt the tears in my eyes, and, wondering at myself, +I cast a stealthy glance at the men about me; and I saw that they, +too, were looking through their hearts' windows upon firesides and +ingle-neuks that gleamed from far. + +And then she sang 'The Auld Hoose,' and Geordie, giving me another +poke, said, 'That's ma ain sang,' and when I asked him what he +meant, he whispered fiercely, 'Wheesht, man!' and I did, for his +face looked dangerous. + +In a pause between the verses I heard Geordie saying to himself, +'Ay, I maun gie it up, I doot.' + +'What?' I ventured. + +'Naething ava.' And then he added impatiently, 'Man, but ye're an +inqueesitive buddie,' after which I subsided into silence. + +Immediately upon the meeting being called to order, Mr. Craig made +his speech, and it was a fine bit of work. Beginning with a clear +statement of the object in view, he set in contrast the two kinds +of leagues proposed. One, a league of men who would take whisky in +moderation; the other, a league of men who were pledged to drink +none themselves, and to prevent in every honourable way others from +drinking. There was no long argument, but he spoke at white heat; +and as he appealed to the men to think, each not of himself alone, +but of the others as well, the yearning, born of his long months of +desire and of toil, vibrated in his voice and reached to the heart. +Many men looked uncomfortable and uncertain, and even the manager +looked none too cheerful. + +At this critical moment the crowd got a shock. Billy Breen +shuffled out to the front, and, in a voice shaking with nervousness +and emotion, began to speak, his large, coarse hands wandering +tremulously about. + +'Oi hain't no bloomin' temperance horator, and mayhap oi hain't no +right to speak 'ere, but oi got somethin' to saigh (say) and oi'm +agoin' to saigh it. + +'Parson, 'ee says is it wisky or no wisky in this 'ere club? If ye +hask me, wich (which) ye don't, then no wisky, says oi; and if ye +hask why?--look at me! Once oi could mine more coal than hany man +in the camp; now oi hain't fit to be a sorter. Once oi 'ad some +pride and hambition; now oi 'angs round awaitin' for some one to +saigh, "Ere, Billy, 'ave summat." Once oi made good paigh (pay), +and sent it 'ome regular to my poor old mother (she's in the wukus +now, she is); oi hain't sent 'er hany for a year and a 'alf. Once +Billy was a good fellow and 'ad plenty o' friends; now Slavin +'isself kicks un hout, 'ee does. Why? why?' His voice rose to a +shriek. 'Because when Billy 'ad money in 'is pocket, hevery man in +this bloomin' camp as meets un at hevery corner says, "'Ello, +Billy, wat'll ye 'ave?" And there's wisky at Slavin's, and there's +wisky in the shacks, and hevery 'oliday and hevery Sunday there's +wisky, and w'en ye feel bad it's wisky, and w'en ye feel good it's +wisky, and heverywhere and halways it's wisky, wisky, wisky! And +now ye're goin' to stop it, and 'ow? T' manager, 'ee says picters +and magazines. 'Ee takes 'is wine and 'is beer like a gentleman, +'ee does, and 'ee don't 'ave no use for Billy Breen. Billy, 'ee's +a beast, and t' manager, 'ee kicks un hout. But supposin' Billy +wants to stop bein' a beast, and starts a-tryin' to be a man again, +and w'en 'ee gets good an' dry, along comes some un and says, +"'Ello, Billy, 'ave a smile," it hain't picters nor magazines 'ud +stop un then. Picters and magazines! Gawd 'elp the man as hain't +nothin' but picters and magazines to 'elp un w'en 'ee's got a devil +hinside and a devil houtside a-shovin' and a-drawin' of un down to +'ell. And that's w'ere oi'm a-goin' straight, and yer bloomin' +League, wisky or no wisky, can't help me. But,' and he lifted his +trembling hands above his head, 'if ye stop the wisky a-flowin' +round this camp, ye'll stop some of these lads that's a-followin' +me 'ard. Yes, you! and you! and you!' and his voice rose to a wild +scream as he shook a trembling finger at one and another. + +'Man, it's fair gruesome tae hear him,' said Geordie; 'he's no' +canny'; and reaching out for Billy as he went stumbling past, he +pulled him down to a seat beside him, saying, 'Sit doon, lad, sit +doon. We'll mak a man o' ye yet.' Then he rose and, using many +r's, said, 'Maister Chairman, a' doot we'll juist hae to gie it +up.' + +'Give it up?' called out Nixon. 'Give up the League?' + +'Na! na! lad, but juist the wee drap whusky. It's nae that guid +onyway, and it's a terrible price. Man, gin ye gang tae +Henderson's in Buchanan Street, in Gleska, ye ken, ye'll get mair +for three-an'-saxpence than ye wull at Slavin's for five dollars. +An' it'll no' pit ye mad like yon stuff, but it gangs doon smooth +an' saft-like. But' (regretfully) 'ye'll no' can get it here; an' +a'm thinkin' a'll juist sign yon teetotal thing.' And up he strode +to the table and put his name down in the book Craig had ready. +Then to Billy he said, 'Come' awa, lad! pit yer name doon, an' +we'll stan' by ye.' + +Poor Billy looked around helplessly, his nerve all gone, and sat +still. There was a swift rustle of garments, and Mrs. Mavor was +beside him, and, in a voice that only Billy and I could hear, said, +'You'll sign with, me, Billy?' + +Billy gazed at her with a hopeless look in his eyes, and shook his +little, head. She leaned slightly toward him, smiling brightly, +and, touching his arm gently, said-- + +'Come, Billy, there's no fear,' and in a lower voice, 'God will +help you.' + +As Billy went up, following Mrs. Mavor close, a hush fell on the +men until he had put his name to the pledge; then they came up, man +by man, and signed. But Craig sat with his head down till I +touched his shoulder. He took my hand and held it fast, saying +over and over, under his breath, 'Thank God, thank God!' + +And so the League was made. + + +CHAPTER VI + +BLACK ROCK RELIGION + + +When I grow weary with the conventions of religion, and sick in my +soul from feeding upon husks, that the churches too often offer me, +in the shape of elaborate service and eloquent discourses, so that +in my sickness I doubt and doubt, then I go back to the communion +in Black Rock and the days preceding it, and the fever and the +weariness leave me, and I grow humble and strong. The simplicity +and rugged grandeur of the faith, the humble gratitude of the rough +men I see about the table, and the calm radiance of one saintly +face, rest and recall me. + +Not its most enthusiastic apologist would call Black Rock a +religious community, but it possessed in a marked degree that +eminent Christian virtue of tolerance. All creeds, all shades of +religious opinion, were allowed, and it was generally conceded that +one was as good as another. It is fair to say, however, that Black +Rock's catholicity was negative rather than positive. The only +religion objectionable was that insisted upon as a necessity. It +never occurred to any one to consider religion other than as a +respectable, if not ornamental, addition to life in older lands. + +During the weeks following the making of the League, however, this +negative attitude towards things religious gave place to one of +keen investigation and criticism. The indifference passed away, +and with it, in a large measure, the tolerance. Mr. Craig was +responsible for the former of these changes, but hardly, in +fairness, could he be held responsible for the latter. If any one, +more than another, was to be blamed for the rise of intolerance in +the village, that man was Geordie Crawford. He had his 'lines' +from the Established Kirk of Scotland, and when Mr. Craig announced +his intention of having the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper +observed, Geordie produced his 'lines' and promptly handed them in. +As no other man in the village was equipped with like spiritual +credentials, Geordie constituted himself a kind of kirk-session, +charged with the double duty of guarding the entrance to the Lord's +Table, and of keeping an eye upon the theological opinions of the +community, and more particularly upon such members of it as gave +evidence of possessing any opinions definite enough for statement. + +It came to be Mr. Craig's habit to drop into the League-room, and +toward the close of the evening to have a short Scripture lesson +from the Gospels. Geordie's opportunity came after the meeting was +over and Mr. Craig had gone away. The men would hang about and +talk the lesson over, expressing opinions favourable or unfavourable +as appeared to them good. Then it was that all sorts of views, +religious and otherwise, were aired and examined. The originality +of the ideas, the absolute disregard of the authority of church or +creed, the frankness with which opinions were stated, and the +forcefulness of the language in which they were expressed, combined +to make the discussions altogether marvellous. The passage between +Abe Baker, the stage-driver, and Geordie was particularly rich. It +followed upon a very telling lesson on the parable of the Pharisee +and the Publican. + +The chief actors in that wonderful story were transferred to the +Black Rock stage, and were presented in miner's costume. Abe was +particularly well pleased with the scoring of the 'blanked old +rooster who crowed so blanked high,' and somewhat incensed at the +quiet remark interjected by Geordie, 'that it was nae credit till a +man tae be a sinner'; and when Geordie went on to urge the +importance of right conduct and respectability, Abe was led to pour +forth vials of contemptuous wrath upon the Pharisees and hypocrites +who thought themselves better than other people. But Geordie was +quite unruffled, and lamented the ignorance of men who, brought up +in 'Epeescopawlyun or Methody' churches, could hardly be expected +to detect the Antinomian or Arminian heresies. + +'Aunty Nomyun or Uncle Nomyun,' replied Abe, boiling hot, 'my +mother was a Methodist, and I'll back any blanked Methodist +against any blankety blank long-faced, lantern-jawed, skinflint +Presbyterian,' and this he was eager to maintain to any man's +satisfaction if he would step outside. + +Geordie was quite unmoved, but hastened to assure Abe that he meant +no disrespect to his mother, who he had 'nae doot was a clever +enough buddie, tae judge by her son.' Abe was speedily appeased, +and offered to set up the drinks all round. But Geordie, with +evident reluctance, had to decline, saying, 'Na, na, lad, I'm a +League man ye ken,' and I was sure that Geordie at that moment felt +that membership in the League had its drawbacks. + +Nor was Geordie too sure of Craig's orthodoxy; while as to Mrs. +Mavor, whose slave he was, he was in the habit of lamenting her +doctrinal condition-- + +'She's a fine wumman, nae doot; but, puir cratur, she's fair +carried awa wi' the errors o' thae Epeescopawlyuns.' + +It fell to Geordie, therefore, as a sacred duty, in view of the +laxity of those who seemed to be the pillars of the Church, to be +all the more watchful and unyielding. But he was delightfully +inconsistent when confronted with particulars. In conversation +with him one night after one of the meetings, when he had been +specially hard upon the ignorant and godless, I innocently changed +the subject to Billy Breen, whom Geordie had taken to his shack +since the night of the League. He was very proud of Billy's +success in the fight against whisky, the credit of which he divided +unevenly between Mrs. Mavor and himself. + +'He's fair daft aboot her,' he explained to me, 'an' I'll no' deny +but she's a great help, ay, a verra conseederable asseestance; but, +man, she doesna ken the whusky, an' the inside o' a man that's +wantin' it. Ay, puir buddie, she diz her pairt, an' when ye're a +bit restless an thrawn aifter yer day's wark, it's like a walk in a +bonnie glen on a simmer eve, with the birds liltin' aboot, tae sit +in yon roomie and hear her sing; but when the night is on, an' ye +canna sleep, but wauken wi' an' awfu' thurst and wi' dreams o' cosy +firesides, and the bonnie sparklin' glosses, as it is wi' puir +Billy, ay, it's then ye need a man wi' a guid grup beside ye.' + +'What do you do then, Geordie?' I asked. + +'Oo ay, I juist gang for a bit walk wi' the lad, and then pits the +kettle on an' maks a cup o' tea or coffee, an' aff he gangs tae +sleep like a bairn.' + +'Poor Billy,' I said pityingly, 'there's no hope for him in the +future, I fear.' + +'Hoot awa, man,' said Geordie quickly. 'Ye wadna keep oot a puir +cratur frae creepin' in, that's daein' his best?' + +'But, Geordie,' I remonstrated, 'he doesn't know anything of the +doctrines. I don't believe he could give us "The Chief End of +Man."' + +'An' wha's tae blame for that?' said Geordie, with fine +indignation. 'An' maybe you remember the prood Pharisee and the +puir wumman that cam' creepin' in ahint the Maister.' + +The mingled tenderness and indignation in Geordie's face were +beautiful to see, so I meekly answered, 'Well, I hope Mr. Craig +won't be too strict with the boys.' + +Geordie shot a suspicious glance at me, but I kept my face like a +summer morn, and he replied cautiously-- + +'Ay, he's no' that streect: but he maun exerceese discreemination.' + +Geordie was none the less determined, however, that Billy should +'come forrit'; but as to the manager, who was a member of the +English Church, and some others who had been confirmed years ago, +and had forgotten much and denied more, he was extremely doubtful, +and expressed himself in very decided words to the minister-- + +'Ye'll no' be askin' forrit thae Epeescopawlyun buddies. They +juist ken naething ava.' + +But Mr. Craig looked at him for a moment and said, "Him that cometh +unto Me I will in no wise cast out,"' and Geordie was silent, +though he continued doubtful. + +With all these somewhat fantastic features, however, there was no +mistaking the earnest spirit of the men. The meetings grew larger +every night, and the interest became more intense. The singing +became different. The men no longer simply shouted, but as Mr. +Craig would call attention to the sentiment of the hymn, the voices +would attune themselves to the words. Instead of encouraging +anything like emotional excitement, Mr. Craig seemed to fear it. + +'These chaps are easily stirred up,' he would say, 'and I am +anxious that they should know exactly what they are doing. It is +far too serious a business to trifle with.' + +Although Graeme did not go downstairs to the meetings, he could not +but feel the throb of the emotion beating in the heart of the +community. I used to detail for his benefit, and sometimes for his +amusement, the incidents of each night. But I never felt quite +easy in dwelling upon the humorous features in Mrs. Mavor's +presence, although Craig did not appear to mind. His manner with +Graeme was perfect. Openly anxious to win him to his side, he did +not improve the occasion and vex him with exhortation. He would +not take him at a disadvantage, though, as I afterwards found, this +was not his sole reason for his method. Mrs. Mavor, too, showed +herself in wise and tender light. She might have been his sister, +so frank was she and so openly affectionate, laughing at his +fretfulness and soothing his weariness. + +Never were better comrades than we four, and the bright days +speeding so swiftly on drew us nearer to one another. + +But the bright days came to an end; for Graeme, when once he was +able to go about, became anxious to get back to the camp. And so +the last day came, a day I remember well. It was a bright, crisp +winter day. + +The air was shimmering in the frosty light. The mountains, with +their shining heads piercing through light clouds into that +wonderful blue of the western sky, and their feet pushed into the +pine masses, gazed down upon Black Rock with calm, kindly looks on +their old grey faces. How one grows to love them, steadfast old +friends! Far up among the pines we could see the smoke of the +engine at the works, and so still and so clear was the mountain air +that we could hear the puff of the steam, and from far down the +river the murmur of the rapids. The majestic silence, the tender +beauty, the peace, the loneliness, too, came stealing in upon us, +as we three, leaving Mrs. Mavor behind us, marched arm-in-arm down +the street. We had not gone far on our way, when Graeme, turning +round, stood a moment looking back, then waved his hand in +farewell. Mrs. Mavor was at her window, smiling and waving in +return. They had grown to be great friends these two; and seemed +to have arrived at some understanding. Certainly, Graeme's manner +to her was not that he bore to other women. His half-quizzical, +somewhat superior air of mocking devotion gave place to a simple, +earnest, almost tender, respect, very new to him, but very winning. + +As he stood there waving his farewell, I glanced at his face and +saw for a moment what I had not seen for years, a faint flush on +Graeme's cheek and a light of simple, earnest faith in his eyes. +It reminded me of my first look of him when he had come up for his +matriculation to the 'Varsity. He stood on the campus looking up at +the noble old pile, and there was the same bright, trustful, +earnest look on his boyish face. + +I know not what spirit possessed me; it may have been the pain of +the memory working in me, but I said, coarsely enough, 'It's no +use, Graeme, my boy; I would fall in love with her myself, but +there would be no chance even for me.' + +The flush slowly darkened as he turned and said deliberately-- + +'It's not like you, Connor, to be an ass of that peculiar kind. +Love!--not exactly! She won't fall in love unless--' and he +stopped abruptly with his eyes upon Craig. + +But Craig met him with unshrinking gaze, quietly remarking, 'Her +heart is under the pines'; and we moved on, each thinking his own +thoughts, and guessing at the thoughts of the others. + +We were on our way to Craig's shack, and as we passed the saloon +Slavin stepped from the door with a salutation. Graeme paused. +'Hello, Slavin! I got rather the worst of it, didn't I?' + +Slavin came near, and said earnestly, 'It was a dirty thrick +altogether; you'll not think it was moine, Mr. Graeme.' + +'No, no, Slavin! you stood up like a man,' said Graeme cheerfully. + +'And you bate me fair; an' bedad it was a nate one that laid me +out; an' there's no grudge in me heart till ye.' + +'All right, Slavin; we'll perhaps understand each other better +after this.' + +'An' that's thrue for yez, sor; an' I'll see that your byes don't +get any more than they ask for,' replied Slavin, backing away. + +'And I hope that won't be much,' put in Mr. Craig; but Slavin only +grinned. + +When we came to Craig's shack Graeme was glad to rest in the big +chair. + +Craig made him a cup of tea, while I smoked, admiring much the deft +neatness of the minister's housekeeping, and the gentle, almost +motherly, way he had with Graeme. + +In our talk we drifted into the future, and Craig let us see what +were his ambitions. The railway was soon to come; the resources +were, as yet, unexplored, but enough was known to assure a great +future for British Columbia. As he talked his enthusiasm grew, and +carried us away. With the eye of a general he surveyed the +country, fixed the strategic points which the Church must seize +upon. Eight good men would hold the country from Fort Steele to +the coast, and from Kootenay to Cariboo. + +'The Church must be in with the railway; she must have a hand in +the shaping of the country. If society crystallises without her +influence, the country is lost, and British Columbia will be +another trap-door to the bottomless pit.' + +'What do you propose?' I asked. + +'Organising a little congregation here in Black Rock.' + +'How many will you get?' + +'Don't know.' + +'Pretty hopeless business,' I said. + +'Hopeless! hopeless!' he cried; 'there were only twelve of us at +first to follow Him, and rather a poor lot they were. But He +braced them up, and they conquered the world.' + +'But surely things are different,' said Graeme. + +'Things? Yes! yes! But He is the same.' His face had an exalted +look, and his eyes were gazing into far-away places. + +'A dozen men in Black Rock with some real grip of Him would make +things go. We'll get them, too,' he went on in growing excitement. +'I believe in my soul we'll get them.' + +'Look here, Craig; if you organise I'd like to join,' said Graeme +impulsively. 'I don't believe much in your creed or your Church, +but I'll be blowed if I don't believe in you.' + +Craig looked at him with wistful eyes, and shook his head. 'It +won't do, old chap, you know. I can't hold you. You've got to +have a grip of some one better than I am; and then, besides, I +hardly like asking you now'; he hesitated--'well, to be out-and- +out, this step must be taken not for my sake, nor for any man's +sake, and I fancy that perhaps you feel like pleasing me just now +a little.' + +'That I do, old fellow,' said Graeme, putting out his hand. 'I'll +be hanged if I won't do anything you say.' + +'That's why I won't say,' replied Craig. Then reverently he added, +'the organisation is not mine. It is my Master's.' + +'When are you going to begin?' asked Graeme. + +'We shall have our communion service in two weeks, and that will be +our roll-call.' + +'How many will answer?' I asked doubtfully. + +'I know of three,' he said quietly. + +'Three! There are two hundred miners and one hundred and fifty +lumbermen! Three!' and Graeme looked at him in amazement. 'You +think it worth while to organise three?' + +'Well,' replied Craig, smiling for the first time, 'the +organisation won't be elaborate, but it will be effective, and, +besides, loyalty demands obedience.' + +We sat long that afternoon talking, shrinking from the breaking up; +for we knew that we were about to turn down a chapter in our lives +which we should delight to linger over in after days. And in my +life there is but one brighter. At last we said good-bye and drove +away; and though many farewells have come in between that day and +this, none is so vividly present to me as that between us three +men. Craig's manner with me was solemn enough. '"He that loveth +his life"; good-bye, don't fool with this,' was what he said to me. +But when he turned to Graeme his whole face lit up. He took him by +the shoulders and gave him a little shake, looking into his eyes, +and saying over and over in a low, sweet tone-- + +'You'll come, old chap, you'll come, you'll come. Tell me you'll +come.' + +And Graeme could say nothing in reply, but only looked at him. +Then they silently shook hands, and we drove off. But long after +we had got over the mountain and into the winding forest road on +the way to the lumber-camp the voice kept vibrating in my heart, +'You'll come, you'll come,' and there was a hot pain in my throat. + +We said little during the drive to the camp. Graeme was thinking +hard, and made no answer when I spoke to him two or three times, +till we came to the deep shadows of the pine forest, when with a +little shiver he said-- + +'It is all a tangle--a hopeless tangle.' + +'Meaning what?' I asked. + +'This business of religion--what quaint varieties--Nelson's, +Geordie's, Billy Breen's--if he has any--then Mrs. Mavor's--she is +a saint, of course--and that fellow Craig's. What a trump he is!-- +and without his religion he'd be pretty much like the rest of us. +It is too much for me.' + +His mystery was not mine. The Black Rock varieties of religion +were certainly startling; but there was undoubtedly the streak of +reality though them all, and that discovery I felt to be a distinct +gain. + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE FIRST BLACK ROCK COMMUNION + + +The gleam of the great fire through the windows of the great camp +gave a kindly welcome as we drove into the clearing in which the +shanties stood. Graeme was greatly touched at his enthusiastic +welcome by the men. At the supper-table he made a little speech of +thanks for their faithfulness during his absence, specially +commending the care and efficiency of Mr. Nelson, who had had +charge of the camp. The men cheered wildly, Baptiste's shrill +voice leading all. Nelson being called upon, expressed in a few +words his pleasure at seeing the Boss back, and thanked the men for +their support while he had been in charge. + +The men were for making a night of it; but fearing the effect upon +Graeme, I spoke to Nelson, who passed the word, and in a short time +the camp was quiet. As we sauntered from the grub-camp to the +office where was our bed, we paused to take in the beauty of the +night. The moon rode high over the peaks of the mountains, +flooding the narrow valley with mellow light. Under her magic the +rugged peaks softened their harsh lines and seemed to lean lovingly +toward us. The dark pine masses stood silent as in breathless +adoration; the dazzling snow lay like a garment over all the open +spaces in soft, waving folds, and crowned every stump with a +quaintly shaped nightcap. Above the camps the smoke curled up from +the camp-fires, standing like pillars of cloud that kept watch +while men slept. And high over all the deep blue night sky, with +its star jewels, sprang like the roof of a great cathedral from +range to range, covering us in its kindly shelter. How homelike +and safe seemed the valley with its mountain-sides, its sentinel +trees and arching roof of jewelled sky! Even the night seemed +kindly, and friendly the stars; and the lone cry of the wolf from +the deep forest seemed like the voice of a comrade. + +'How beautiful! too beautiful!' said Graeme, stretching out his +arms. 'A night like this takes the heart out of me.' + +I stood silent, drinking in at every sense the night with its +wealth of loveliness. + +'What is it I want?' he went on. 'Why does the night make my heart +ache? There are things to see and things to hear just beyond me; I +cannot get to them.' The gay, careless look was gone from his +face, his dark eyes were wistful with yearning. + +'I often wonder if life has nothing better for me,' he continued +with his heartache voice. + +I said no word, but put my arm within his. A light appeared in the +stable. Glad of a diversion, I said, 'What is the light? Let us +go and see.' + +'Sandy, taking a last look at his team, like enough.' + +We walked slowly toward the stable, speaking no word. As we neared +the door we heard the sound of a voice in the monotone of one +reading. I stepped forward and looked through a chink between the +logs. Graeme was about to open the door, but I held up my hand and +beckoned him to me. In a vacant stall, where was a pile of straw, +a number of men were grouped. Sandy, leaning against the tying- +post upon which the stable-lantern hung, was reading; Nelson was +kneeling in front of him and gazing into the gloom beyond; Baptiste +lay upon his stomach, his chin in his hands and his upturned eyes +fastened upon Sandy's face; Lachlan Campbell sat with his hands +clasped about his knees, and two other men sat near him. Sandy was +reading the undying story of the Prodigal, Nelson now and then +stopping him to make a remark. It was a scene I have never been +able to forget. To-day I pause in my tale, and see it as clearly +as when I looked through the chink upon it years ago. The long, +low stable, with log walls and upright hitching-poles; the dim +outlines of the horses in the gloom of the background, and the +little group of rough, almost savage-looking men, with faces +wondering and reverent, lit by the misty light of the stable- +lantern. + +After the reading, Sandy handed the book to Nelson, who put it in +his pocket, saying, 'That's for us, boys, ain't it?' + +'Ay,' said Lachlan; 'it is often that has been read in my hearing, +but I am afraid it will not be for me whatever,' and he swayed +himself slightly as he spoke, and his voice was full of pain. + +'The minister said I might come,' said old Nelson, earnestly and +hopefully. + +'Ay, but you are not Lachlan Campbell, and you hef not had his +privileges. My father was a godly elder in the Free Church of +Scotland, and never a night or morning but we took the Books.' + +'Yes, but He said "any man,"' persisted Nelson, putting his hand on +Lachlan's knee. But Lachlan shook his head. + +'Dat young feller,' said Baptiste; 'wha's hees nem, heh?' + +'He has no name. It is just a parable,' explained Sandy. + +'He's got no nem? He's just a parom'ble? Das no young feller?' +asked Baptiste anxiously; 'das mean noting?' + +Then Nelson took him in hand and explained to him the meaning, +while Baptiste listened even more eagerly, ejaculating softly, 'ah, +voila! bon! by gar!' When Nelson had finished he broke out, 'Dat +young feller, his name Baptiste, heh? and de old Fadder he's le bon +Dieu? Bon! das good story for me. How you go back? You go to de +pries'?' + +'The book doesn't say priest or any one else,' said Nelson. 'You +go back in yourself, you see?' + +'Non; das so, sure nuff. Ah!'--as if a light broke in upon him-- +'you go in your own self. You make one leetle prayer. You say, +"Le bon Fadder, oh! I want come back, I so tire, so hongree, so +sorree"? He, say, "Come right 'long." Ah! das fuss-rate. Nelson, +you make one leetle prayer for Sandy and me.' + +And Nelson lifted up his face and said: 'Father, we're all gone far +away; we have spent all, we are poor, we are tired of it all; we +want to feel different, to be different; we want to come back. +Jesus came to save us from our sins; and he said if we came He +wouldn't cast us out, no matter how bad we were, if we only came to +Him. Oh, Jesus Christ'--and his old, iron face began to work, and +two big tears slowly came from under his eyelids--'we are a poor +lot, and I'm the worst of the lot, and we are trying to find the +way. Show us how to get back. Amen.' + +'Bon!' said Baptiste. 'Das fetch Him sure!' + +Graeme pulled me away, and without a word we went into the office +and drew up to the little stove. Graeme was greatly moved. + +'Did you ever see anything like that?' he asked. 'Old Nelson! the +hardest, savagest, toughest old sinner in the camp, on his knees +before a lot of men!' + +'Before God,' I could not help saying, for the thing seemed very +real to me. The old man evidently felt himself talking to some +one. + +'Yes, I suppose you're right,' said Graeme doubtfully; 'but there's +a lot of stuff I can't swallow.' + +'When you take medicine you don't swallow the bottle,' I replied, +for his trouble was not mine. + +'If I were sure of the medicine, I wouldn't mind the bottle, and +yet it acts well enough,' he went on. 'I don't mind Lachlan; he's +a Highland mystic, and has visions, and Sandy's almost as bad, and +Baptiste is an impulsive little chap. Those don't count much. But +old man Nelson is a cool-blooded, level-headed old fellow; has seen +a lot of life, too. And then there's Craig. He has a better head +than I have, and is as hot-blooded, and yet he is living and +slaving away in that hole, and really enjoys it. There must be +something in it.' + +'Oh, look here, Graeme,' I burst out impatiently; 'what's the use +of your talking like that? Of course there's something in it. I +here's everything in it. The trouble with me is I can't face the +music. It calls for a life where a fellow must go in for straight, +steady work, self-denial, and that sort of thing; and I'm too +Bohemian for that, and too lazy. But that fellow Craig makes one +feel horribly uncomfortable.' + +Graeme put his head on one side, and examined me curiously. + +'I believe you're right about yourself. You always were a +luxurious beggar. But that's not where it catches me.' + +We sat and smoked and talked of other things for an hour, and then +turned in. As I was dropping off I was roused by Graeme's voice-- + +'Are you going to the preparatory service on Friday night?' + +'Don't know,' I replied rather sleepily. + +'I say, do you remember the preparatory service at home?' There +was something in his voice that set me wide awake. + +'Yes. Rather terrific, wasn't it? But I always felt better after +it,' I replied. + +'To me'--he was sitting up in bed now--'to me it was like a call to +arms, or rather like a call for a forlorn hope. None but +volunteers wanted. Do you remember the thrill in the old +governor's voice as he dared any but the right stuff to come on?' + +'We'll go in on Friday night,' I said. + +And so we did. Sandy took a load of men with his team, and Graeme +and I drove in the light sleigh. + +The meeting was in the church, and over a hundred men were present. +There was some singing of familiar hymns at first, and then Mr. +Craig read the same story as we had heard in the stable, that most +perfect of all parables, the Prodigal Son. Baptiste nudged Sandy +in delight, and whispered something, but Sandy held his face so +absolutely expressionless that Graeme was moved to say-- + +'Look at Sandy! Did you ever see such a graven image? Something +has hit him hard.' + +The men were held fast by the story. The voice of the reader, low, +earnest, and thrilling with the tender pathos of the tale, carried +the words to our hearts, while a glance, a gesture, a movement of +the body gave us the vision of it all as he was seeing it. + +Then, in simplest of words, he told us what the story meant, +holding us the while with eyes, and voice, and gesture. He +compelled us scorn the gay, heartless selfishness of the young fool +setting forth so jauntily from the broken home; he moved our pity +and our sympathy for the young profligate, who, broken and +deserted, had still pluck enough to determine to work his way back, +and who, in utter desperation, at last gave it up; and then he +showed us the homecoming--the ragged, heart-sick tramp, with +hesitating steps, stumbling along the dusty road, and then the rush +of the old father, his garments fluttering, and his voice heard in +broken cries. I see and hear it all now, whenever the words are +read. + +He announced the hymn, 'Just as I am,' read the first verse, and +then went on: 'There you are, men, every man of you, somewhere on +the road. Some of you are too lazy'--here Graeme nudged me--'and +some of you haven't got enough yet of the far country to come back. +May there be a chance for you when you want to come! Men, you all +want to go back home, and when you go you'll want to put on your +soft clothes, and you won't go till you can go in good style; but +where did the prodigal get his good clothes?' Quick came the +answer in Baptiste's shrill voice-- + +'From de old fadder!' + +No one was surprised, and the minister went on-- + +'Yes! and that's where we must get the good, clean heart, the good, +clean, brave heart, from our Father. Don't wait, but, just as you +are, come. Sing.' + +They sang, not loud, as they would 'Stand Up,' or even 'The Sweet +By and By,' but in voices subdued, holding down the power in them. + +After the singing, Craig stood a moment gazing down at the men, and +then said quietly-- + +'Any man want to come? You all might come. We all must come.' +Then, sweeping his arm over the audience, and turning half round as +if to move off, he cried, in a voice that thrilled to the heart's +core-- + +'Oh! come on! Let's go back!' + +The effect was overpowering. It seemed to me that the whole +company half rose to their feet. Of the prayer that immediately +followed, I only caught the opening sentence, 'Father, we are +coming back,' for my attention was suddenly absorbed by Abe, the +stage-driver, who was sitting next me. I could hear him swearing +approval and admiration, saying to himself-- + +'Ain't he a clinker! I'll be gee-whizzly-gol-dusted if he ain't a +malleable-iron-double-back-action self-adjusting corn-cracker.' +And the prayer continued to be punctuated with like admiring and +even more sulphurous expletives. It was an incongruous medley. +The earnest, reverent prayer, and the earnest, admiring profanity, +rendered chaotic one's ideas of religious propriety. The feelings +in both were akin; the method of expression somewhat widely +diverse. + +After prayer, Craig's tone changed utterly. In a quiet, matter-of- +fact, businesslike way he stated his plan of organisation, and +called for all who wished to join to remain after the benediction. +Some fifty men were left, among them Nelson, Sandy, Lachlan +Campbell, Baptiste, Shaw, Nixon, Geordie, and Billy Breen, who +tried to get out, but was held fast by Geordie. + +Graeme was passing out, but I signed him to remain, saying that I +wished 'to see the thing out.' Abe sat still beside me, swearing +disgustedly at the fellows 'who were going back on the preacher.' +Craig appeared amazed at the number of men remaining, and seemed to +fear that something was wrong. He put before them the terms of +discipleship, as the Master put them to the eager scribe, and he +did not make them easy. He pictured the kind of work to be done, +and the kind of men needed for the doing of it. Abe grew uneasy as +the minister went on to describe the completeness of the surrender, +the intensity of the loyalty demanded. + +'That knocks me out, I reckon,' he muttered, in a disappointed +tone; 'I ain't up to that grade.' And as Craig described the +heroism called for, the magnificence of the fight, the worth of it, +and the outcome of it all, Abe ground out: I'll be blanked if I +wouldn't like to take a hand, but I guess I'm not in it.' Craig +finished by saying-- + +'I want to put this quite fairly. It is not any league of mine; +you're not joining my company; it is no easy business, and it is +for your whole life. What do you say? Do I put it fairly? What +do you say, Nelson?' + +Nelson rose slowly, and with difficulty began-- + +'I may be all wrong, but you made it easier for me, Mr. Craig. You +said He would see me through, or I should never have risked it. +Perhaps I am wrong,' and the old man looked troubled. Craig sprang +up. + +'No! no! Thank God, no! He will see every man through who will +trust his life to Him. Every man, no matter how tough he is, no +matter how broken.' + +Then Nelson straightened himself up and said-- + +'Well, sir! I believe a lot of the men would go in for this if they +were dead sure they would get through.' + +'Get through!' said Craig; 'never a fear of it. It is a hard +fight, a long fight, a glorious fight,' throwing up his head, but +every man who squarely trusts Him, and takes Him as Lord and +Master, comes out victor!' + +'Bon!' said Baptiste 'Das me. You tink He's take me in dat fight, +M'sieu Craig, heh?' His eyes were blazing. + +'You mean it?' asked Craig almost sternly. + +'Yes! by gar!' said the little Frenchman eagerly. + +'Hear what He says, then'; and Craig, turning over the leaves of +his Testament, read solemnly the words, 'Swear not at all.' + +'Non! For sure! Den I stop him,' replied Baptiste earnestly; and +Craig wrote his name down. + +Poor Abe looked amazed and distressed, rose slowly, and saying, +'That jars my whisky jug,' passed out. There was a slight movement +near the organ, and glancing up I saw Mrs. Mavor put her face +hastily in her hands. The men's faces were anxious and troubled, +and Nelson said in a voice that broke-- + +'Tell them what you told me, sir.' But Craig was troubled too, and +replied, 'You tell them, Nelson!' and Nelson told the men the story +of how he began just five weeks ago. The old man's voice steadied +as he went on, and he grew eager as he told how he had been helped, +and how the world was all different, and his heart seemed new. He +spoke of his Friend as if He were some one that could be seen out +at camp, that he knew well, and met every day. + +But as he tried to say how deeply he regretted that he had not +known all this years before, the old, hard face began to quiver, +and the steady voice wavered. Then he pulled himself together, and +said-- + +'I begin to feel sure He'll pull me through--me! the hardest man in +the mountains! So don't you fear, boys. He's all right.' + +Then the men gave in their names, one by one. When it came to +Geordie's turn, he gave his name-- + +'George Crawford, frae the pairish o' Kilsyth, Scotland, an' ye'll +juist pit doon the lad's name, Maister Craig; he's a wee bit fashed +wi' the discoorse, but he has the root o' the maitter in him, I +doot.' And so Billy Breen's name went down. + +When the meeting was over, thirty-eight names stood upon the +communion roll of the Black Rock Presbyterian Church; and it will +ever be one of the regrets of my life that neither Graeme's name +nor my own appeared on that roll. And two days after, when the cup +went round on that first Communion Sabbath, from Nelson to Sandy, +and from Sandy to Baptiste, and so on down the line to Billy Breen +and Mrs. Mavor, and then to Abe, the driver, whom she had by her +own mystic power lifted into hope and faith, I felt all the shame +and pain of a traitor; and I believe, in my heart that the fire of +that pain and shame burned something of the selfish cowardice out +of me, and that it is burning still. + +The last words of the minister, in the short address after the +table had been served, were low, and sweet, and tender, but they +were words of high courage; and before he had spoken them all, the +men were listening with shining eyes, and when they rose to sing +the closing hymn they stood straight and stiff like soldiers on +parade. + +And I wished more than ever I were one of them. + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE BREAKING OF THE LEAGUE + + +There is no doubt in my mind that nature designed me for a great +painter. A railway director interfered with that design of nature, +as he has with many another of hers, and by the transmission of an +order for mountain pieces by the dozen, together with a cheque so +large that I feared there was some mistake, he determined me to be +an illustrator and designer for railway and like publications. I +do not like these people ordering 'by the dozen.' Why should they +not consider an artist's finer feelings? Perhaps they cannot +understand them; but they understand my pictures, and I understand +their cheques, and there we are quits. But so it came that I +remained in Black Rock long enough to witness the breaking of the +League. + +Looking back upon the events of that night from the midst of gentle +and decent surroundings, they now seem strangely unreal, but to me +then they appeared only natural. + +It was the Good Friday ball that wrecked the League. For the fact +that the promoters of the ball determined that it should be a ball +rather than a dance was taken by the League men as a concession to +the new public opinion in favour of respectability created by the +League. And when the manager's patronage had been secured (they +failed to get Mrs. Mavor's), and it was further announced that, +though held in the Black Rock Hotel ballroom--indeed, there was no +other place--refreshments suited to the peculiar tastes of League +men would be provided, it was felt to be almost a necessity that +the League should approve, should indeed welcome, this concession +to the public opinion in favour of respectability created by the +League. + +There were extreme men on both sides, of course. 'Idaho' Jack, +professional gambler, for instance, frankly considered that the +whole town was going to unmentionable depths of propriety. The +organisation of the League was regarded by him, and by many others, +as a sad retrograde towards the bondage of the ancient and dying +East; and that he could not get drunk when and where he pleased, +'Idaho,' as he was called, regarded as a personal grievance. + +But Idaho was never enamoured of the social ways of Black Rock. He +was shocked and disgusted when he discovered that a 'gun' was +decreed by British law to be an unnecessary adornment of a card- +table. The manner of his discovery must have been interesting to +behold. + +It is said that Idaho was industriously pursuing his avocation in +Slavin's, with his 'gun' lying upon the card-table convenient to +his hand, when in walked policeman Jackson, her Majesty's sole +representative in the Black Rock district. Jackson, 'Stonewall' +Jackson, or 'Stonewall,' as he was called for obvious reasons, +after watching the game for a few moments, gently tapped the pistol +and asked what he used this for. + +'I'll show you in two holy minutes if you don't light out,' said +Idaho, hardly looking up, but very angrily, for the luck was +against him. But Jackson tapped upon the table and said sweetly-- + +'You're a stranger here. You ought to get a guide-book and post +yourself. Now, the boys know I don't interfere with an innocent +little game, but there is a regulation against playing it with +guns; so,' he added even more sweetly, but fastening Idaho with a +look from his steel-grey eyes, 'I'll just take charge of this,' +picking up the revolver; 'it might go off.' + +Idaho's rage, great as it was, was quite swallowed up in his amazed +disgust at the state of society that would permit such an outrage +upon personal liberty. He was quite unable to play any more that +evening, and it took several drinks all round to restore him to +articulate speech. The rest of the night was spent in retailing +for his instruction stories of the ways of Stonewall Jackson. + +Idaho bought a new 'gun,' but he wore it 'in his clothes,' and used +it chiefly in the pastime of shooting out the lights or in picking +off the heels from the boys' boots while a stag dance was in +progress in Slavin's. But in Stonewall's presence Idaho was a most +correct citizen. Stonewall he could understand and appreciate. He +was six feet three, and had an eye of unpleasant penetration. But +this new feeling in the community for respectability he could +neither understand nor endure. The League became the object of his +indignant aversion, and the League men of his contempt. He had +many sympathisers, and frequent were the assaults upon the newly- +born sobriety of Billy Breen and others of the League. But +Geordie's watchful care and Mrs. Mavor's steady influence, together +with the loyal co-operation of the League men, kept Billy safe so +far. Nixon, too, was a marked man. It may be that he carried +himself with unnecessary jauntiness toward Slavin and Idaho, +saluting the former with, 'Awful dry weather! eh, Slavin?' and the +latter with, 'Hello, old sport! how's times?' causing them to swear +deeply; and, as it turned out, to do more than swear. + +But on the whole the anti-League men were in favour of a respectable +ball, and most of the League men determined to show their +appreciation of the concession of the committee to the principles of +the League in the important matter of refreshments by attending in +force. + +Nixon would not go. However jauntily he might talk, he could not +trust himself, as he said, where whisky was flowing, for it got +into his nose 'like a fish-hook into a salmon.' He was from +Nova Scotia. For like reason, Vernon Winton, the young Oxford +fellow, would not go. When they chaffed, his lips grew a little +thinner, and the colour deepened in his handsome face, but he went +on his way. Geordie despised the 'hale hypothick' as a 'daft +ploy,' and the spending of five dollars upon a ticket he considered +a 'sinfu' waste o' guid siller'; and he warned Billy against +'coontenancin' ony sic redeeklus nonsense.' + +But no one expected Billy to go; although the last two months he +had done wonders for his personal appearance, and for his position +in the social scale as well. They all knew what a fight he was +making, and esteemed him accordingly. How well I remember the +pleased pride in his face when he told me in the afternoon of the +committee's urgent request that he should join the orchestra with +his 'cello! It was not simply that his 'cello was his joy and +pride, but he felt it to be a recognition of his return to +respectability. + +I have often wondered how things combine at times to a man's +destruction. + +Had Mr. Craig not been away at the Landing that week, had Geordie +not been on the night-shift, had Mrs. Mavor not been so occupied +with the care of her sick child, it may be Billy might have been +saved his fall. + +The anticipation of the ball stirred Black Rock and the camps with +a thrill of expectant delight. Nowadays, when I find myself forced +to leave my quiet smoke in my studio after dinner at the call of +some social engagement which I have failed to elude, I groan at my +hard lot, and I wonder as I look back and remember the pleasurable +anticipation with which I viewed the approaching ball. But I do +not wonder now any more than I did then at the eager delight of the +men who for seven days in the week swung their picks up in the dark +breasts of the mines, or who chopped and sawed among the solitary +silences of the great forests. Any break in the long and weary +monotony was welcome; what mattered the cost or consequence! To +the rudest and least cultured of them the sameness of the life must +have been hard to bear; but what it was to men who had seen life in +its most cultured and attractive forms I fail to imagine. From the +mine, black and foul, to the shack, bare, cheerless, and sometimes +hideously repulsive, life swung in heart-grinding monotony till the +longing for a 'big drink' or some other 'big break' became too +great to bear. + +It was well on towards evening when Sandy's four horse team, with a +load of men from the woods, came swinging round the curves of the +mountain-road and down the street. A gay crowd they were with +their bright, brown faces and hearty voices; and in ten minutes the +whole street seemed alive with lumbermen--they had a faculty of +spreading themselves so. After night fell the miners came down +'done up slick,' for this was a great occasion, and they must be up +to it. The manager appeared in evening dress; but this was voted +'too giddy' by the majority. + +As Graeme and I passed up to the Black Rock Hotel, in the large +store-room of which the ball was to be held, we met old man Nelson +looking very grave. + +'Going, Nelson, aren't you?' I said. + +'Yes,' he answered slowly; 'I'll drop in, though I don't like the +look of things much.' + +'What's the matter, Nelson?' asked Graeme cheerily. 'There's no +funeral on.' + +'Perhaps not,' replied Nelson, 'but I wish Mr. Craig were home.' +And then he added, 'There's Idaho and Slavin together, and you may +bet the devil isn't far off.' + +But Graeme laughed at his suspicion, and we passed on. The +orchestra was tuning up. There were two violins, a concertina, and +the 'cello. Billy Breen was lovingly fingering his instrument, now +and then indulging himself in a little snatch of some air that came +to him out of his happier past. He looked perfectly delighted, and +as I paused to listen he gave me a proud glance out of his deep, +little, blue eyes, and went on playing softly to himself. +Presently Shaw came along. + +'That's good, Billy,' he called out. 'You've got the trick yet, I +see." + +But Billy only nodded and went on playing. + +'Where's Nixon?' I asked. + +'Gone to bed,' said Shaw, 'and I am glad of it. He finds that the +safest place on pay-day afternoon. The boys don't bother him +there.' + +The dancing-room was lined on two sides with beer-barrels and +whisky-kegs; at one end the orchestra sat, at the other was a table +with refreshments, where the 'soft drinks' might be had. Those who +wanted anything else might pass through a short passage into the +bar just behind. + +This was evidently a superior kind of ball, for the men kept on +their coats, and went through the various figures with faces of +unnatural solemnity. But the strain upon their feelings was quite +apparent, and it became a question how long it could be maintained. +As the trips through the passage-way became more frequent the +dancing grew in vigour and hilarity, until by the time supper was +announced the stiffness had sufficiently vanished to give no +further anxiety to the committee. + +But the committee had other cause for concern, inasmuch as after +supper certain of the miners appeared with their coats off, and +proceeded to 'knock the knots out of the floor' in break-down +dances of extraordinary energy. These, however, were beguiled into +the bar-room and 'filled up' for safety, for the committee were +determined that the respectability of the ball should be preserved +to the end. Their reputation was at stake, not in Black Rock only, +but at the Landing as well, from which most of the ladies had come; +and to be shamed in the presence of the Landing people could not be +borne. Their difficulties seemed to be increasing, for at this +point something seemed to go wrong with the orchestra. The 'cello +appeared to be wandering aimlessly up and down the scale, +occasionally picking up the tune with animation, and then dropping +it. As Billy saw me approaching, he drew himself up with great +solemnity, gravely winked at me, and said-- + +'Shlipped a cog, Mishter Connor! Mosh hunfortunate! Beauchiful +hinstrument, but shlips a cog. Mosh hunfortunate!' + +And he wagged his little head sagely, playing all the while for +dear life, now second and now lead. + +Poor Billy! I pitied him, but I thought chiefly of the beautiful, +eager face that leaned towards him the night the League was made, +and of the bright voice that said, 'You'll sign with me, Billy?' +and it seemed to me a cruel deed to make him lose his grip of life +and hope; for this is what the pledge meant to him. + +While I was trying to get Billy away to some safe place, I heard a +great shouting in the direction of the bar, followed by trampling +and scuffling of feet in the passage-way. Suddenly a man burst +through, crying-- + +'Let me go! Stand back! I know what I'm about!' + +It was Nixon, dressed in his best; black clothes, blue shirt, red +tie, looking handsome enough, but half-drunk and wildly excited. +The highland Fling competition was on at the moment, and Angus +Campbell, Lachlan's brother, was representing the lumber camps in +the contest. Nixon looked on approvingly for a few moments, then +with a quick movement he seized the little Highlander, swung him in +his powerful arms clean off the floor, and deposited him gently +upon a beer-barrel. Then he stepped into the centre of the room, +bowed to the judges, and began a sailor's hornpipe. + +The committee were perplexed, but after deliberation they decided +to humour the new competitor, especially as they knew that Nixon +with whisky in him was unpleasant to cross. + +Lightly and gracefully he went through his steps, the men crowding +in from the bar to admire, for Nixon was famed for his hornpipe. +But when, after the hornpipe, he proceeded to execute a clog-dance, +garnished with acrobatic feats, the committee interfered. There +were cries of 'Put him out!' and 'Let him alone! Go on, Nixon!' +And Nixon hurled back into the crowd two of the committee who had +laid remonstrating hands upon him, and, standing in the open +centre, cried out scornfully-- + +'Put me out! Put me out! Certainly! Help yourselves! Don't mind +me!' Then grinding his teeth, so that I heard them across the +room, he added with savage deliberation, 'If any man lays a finger +on me, I'll--I'll eat his liver cold.' + +He stood for a few moments glaring round upon the company, and then +strode toward the bar, followed by the crowd wildly yelling. The +ball was forthwith broken up. I looked around for Billy, but he +was nowhere to be seen. Graeme touched my arm-- + +'There's going to be something of a time, so just keep your eyes +skinned.' + +'What are you going to do?' I asked. + +'Do? Keep myself beautifully out of trouble,' he replied. + +In a few moments the crowd came surging back headed by Nixon, who +was waving a whisky-bottle over his head and yelling as one +possessed. + +'Hello!' exclaimed Graeme softly, 'I begin to see. Look there!' + +'What's up?' I asked. + +'You see Idaho and Slavin and their pets,' he replied. + +'They've got poor Nixon in tow. Idaho is rather nasty,' he added, +'but I think I'll take a hand in this game; I've seen some of +Idaho's work before.' + +The scene was one quite strange to me, and was wild beyond +description. A hundred men filled the room. Bottles were passed +from hand to hand, and men drank their fill. Behind the +refreshment-tables stood the hotelman and his barkeeper with their +coats off and sleeves rolled up to the shoulder, passing out +bottles, and drawing beer and whisky from two kegs hoisted up for +that purpose. Nixon was in his glory. It was his night. Every +man was to get drunk at his expense, he proclaimed, flinging down +bills upon the table. Near him were some League men he was +treating liberally, and never far away were Idaho and Slavin +passing bottles, but evidently drinking little. + +I followed Graeme, not feeling too comfortable, for this sort of +thing was new to me, but admiring the cool assurance with which he +made his way through the crowd that swayed and yelled and swore and +laughed in a most disconcerting manner. + +'Hello!' shouted Nixon as he caught sight of Graeme. 'Here you +are!' passing him a bottle. 'You're a knocker, a double-handed +front door knocker. You polished off old whisky-soak here, old +demijohn,' pointing to Slavin, 'and I'll lay five to one we can +lick any blankety blank thieves in the crowd,' and he held up a +roll of bills. + +But Graeme proposed that he should give the hornpipe again, and the +floor was cleared at once, for Nixon's hornpipe was very popular, +and tonight, of course, was in high favour. In the midst of his +dance Nixon stopped short, his arms dropped to his side, his face +had a look of fear, of horror. + +There, before him, in his riding-cloak and boots, with his whip in +his hand as he had come from his ride, stood Mr. Craig. His face +was pallid, and his dark eyes were blazing with fierce light. As +Nixon stopped, Craig stepped forward to him, and sweeping his eyes +round upon the circle he said in tones intense with scorn-- + +'You cowards! You get a man where he's weak! Cowards! you'd damn +his soul for his money!' + +There was dead silence, and Craig, lifting his hat, said solemnly-- + +'May God forgive you this night's work!' + +Then, turning to Nixon, and throwing his arm over his shoulder, he +said in a voice broken and husky-- + +'Come on, Nixon! we'll go!' + +Idaho made a motion as if to stop him, but Graeme stepped quickly +foreword and said sharply, 'Make way there, can't you?' and the +crowd fell back and we four passed through, Nixon walking as in a +dream, with Craig's arm about him. Down the street we went in +silence, and on to Craig's shack, where we found old man Nelson, +with the fire blazing, and strong coffee steaming on the stove. It +was he that had told Craig, on his arrival from the Landing, of +Nixon's fall. + +There was nothing of reproach, but only gentlest pity, in tone and +touch as Craig placed the half-drunk, dazed man in his easy-chair, +took off his boots, brought him his own slippers, and gave him +coffee. Then, as his stupor began to overcome him, Craig put him +in his own bed, and came forth with a face written over with grief. + +'Don't mind, old chap,' said Graeme kindly. + +But Craig looked at him without a word, and, throwing himself into +a chair, put his face in his hands. As we sat there in silence the +door was suddenly pushed open and in walked Abe Baker with the +words, 'Where is Nixon?' and we told him where he was. We were +still talking when again a tap came to the door, and Shaw came in +looking much disturbed. + +'Did you hear about Nixon?' he asked. We told him what we knew. + +'But did you hear how they got him?' he asked, excitedly. + +As he told us the tale, the men stood listening, with faces growing +hard. + +It appeared that after the making of the League the Black Rock +Hotel man had bet Idaho one hundred to fifty that Nixon could not +be got to drink before Easter. All Idaho's schemes had failed, and +now he had only three days in which to win his money, and the ball +was his last chance. Here again he was balked, for Nixon, +resisting all entreaties, barred his shack door and went to bed +before nightfall, according to his invariable custom on pay-days. +At midnight some of Idaho's men came battering at the door for +admission, which Nixon reluctantly granted. For half an hour they +used every art of persuasion to induce him to go down to the ball, +the glorious success of which was glowingly depicted; but Nixon +remained immovable, and they took their departure, baffled and +cursing. In two hours they returned drunk enough to be dangerous, +kicked at the door in vain, finally gained entrance through the +window, hauled Nixon out of bed, and, holding a glass of whisky to +his lips, bade him drink. But he knocked the glass sway, spilling +the liquor over himself and the bed. + +It was drink or fight, and Nixon was ready to fight; but after +parley they had a drink all round, and fell to persuasion again. +The night was cold, and poor Nixon sat shivering on the edge of his +bed. If he would take one drink they would leave him alone. He +need not show himself so stiff. The whisky fumes filled his +nostrils. If one drink would get them off, surely that was better +than fighting and killing some one or getting killed. He +hesitated, yielded, drank his glass. They sat about him amiably +drinking, and lauding him as a fine fellow after all. One more +glass before they left. Then Nixon rose, dressed himself, drank +all that was left of the bottle, put his money in his pocket, and +came down to the dance, wild with his old-time madness, reckless of +faith and pledge, forgetful of home, wife, babies, his whole being +absorbed in one great passion--to drink and drink and drink till he +could drink no more. + +Before Shaw had finished his tale, Craig's eyes were streaming with +tears, and groans of rage and pity broke alternately from him. Abe +remained speechless for a time, not trusting himself; but as he +heard Craig groan, 'Oh, the beasts! the fiends!' he seemed +encouraged to let himself loose, and he began swearing with the +coolest and most blood-curdling deliberation. Craig listened with +evident approval, apparently finding complete satisfaction in Abe's +performance, when suddenly he seemed to waken up, caught Abe by the +arm, and said in a horror-stricken voice-- + +'Stop! stop! God forgive us! we must not swear like this.' + +Abe stopped at once, and in a surprised and slightly grieved voice +said-- + +'Why! what's the matter with that? Ain't that what you wanted?' + +'Yes! yes! God forgive me! I am afraid it was,' he answered +hurriedly; 'but I must not.' + +'Oh, don't you worry,' went on Abe cheerfully; 'I'll look after +that part; and anyway, ain't they the blankest blankety blank'-- +going off again into a roll of curses, till Craig, in an agony of +entreaty, succeeded in arresting the flow of profanity possible to +no one but a mountain stage-driver. Abe paused looking hurt, and +asked if they did not deserve everything he was calling down upon +them. + +'Yes, yes,' urged Craig; 'but that is not our business.' + +'Well! so I reckoned,' replied Abe, recognising the limitations of +the cloth; 'you ain't used to it, and you can't be expected to do +it; but it just makes me feel good--let out o' school like--to +properly do 'em up, the blank, blank,' and off he went again. It +was only under the pressure of Mr. Craig's prayers and commands +that he finally agreed 'to hold in, though it was tough.' + +'What's to be done?' asked Shaw. + +'Nothing,' answered Craig bitterly. He was exhausted with his long +ride from the Landing, and broken with bitter disappointment over +the ruin of all that he had laboured so long to accomplish. + +'Nonsense,' said Graeme; 'there's a good deal to do.' + +It was agreed that Craig should remain with Nixon while the others +of us should gather up what fragments we could find of the broken +League. We had just opened the door, when we met a man striding up +at a great pace. It was Geordie Crawford. + +'Hae ye seen the lad?' was his salutation. No one replied. So I +told Geordie of my last sight of Billy in the orchestra. + +'An' did ye no' gang aifter him?' he asked in indignant surprise, +adding with some contempt, 'Man! but ye're a feckless buddie.' + +'Billy gone too!' said Shaw. 'They might have let Billy alone.' + +Poor Craig stood in a dumb agony. Billy's fall seemed more than he +could bear. We went out, leaving him heart-broken amid the ruins +of his League. + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE LEAGUE'S REVENGE + + +As we stood outside of Craig's shack in the dim starlight, we could +not hide from ourselves that we were beaten. It was not so much +grief as a blind fury that filled my heart, and looking at the +faces of the men about me I read the same feeling there. But what +could we do? The yells of carousing miners down at Slavin's told +us that nothing could be done with them that night. To be so +utterly beaten, and unfairly, and with no chance of revenge, was +maddening. + +'I'd like to get back at 'em,' said Abe, carefully repressing +himself. + +'I've got it, men,' said Graeme suddenly. 'This town does not +require all the whisky there is in it'; and he unfolded his plan. +It was to gain possession of Slavin's saloon and the bar of the +Black Rock Hotel, and clear out all the liquor to be found in both +these places. I did not much like the idea; and Geordie said, 'I'm +ga'en aifter the lad; I'll hae naethin' tae dae wi' yon. It's' no' +that easy, an' it's a sinfu' waste.' + +But Abe was wild to try it, and Shaw was quite willing, while old +Nelson sternly approved. + +'Nelson, you and Shaw get a couple of our men and attend to the +saloon. Slavin and the whole gang are up at the Black Rock, so you +won't have much trouble; but come to us as soon as you can.' + +And so we went our ways. + +Then followed a scene the like of which I can never hope to see +again, and it was worth a man's seeing. But there were times that +night when I wished I had not agreed to follow Graeme in his plot. +As we went up to the hotel, I asked Graeme, 'What about the law of +this?' + +'Law!' he replied indignantly. 'They haven't troubled much about +law in the whisky business here. They get a keg of high wines and +some drugs and begin operations. No!' he went on; 'if we can get +the crowd out, and ourselves in, we'll make them break the law in +getting us out. The law won't trouble us over smuggled whisky. +It will be a great lark, and they won't crow too loud over the +League.' + +I did not like the undertaking at first; but as I thought of the +whole wretched illegal business flourishing upon the weakness of +the men in the mines and camps, whom I had learned to regard as +brothers, and especially as I thought of the cowards that did for +Nixon, I let my scruples go, and determined, with Abe, 'to get back +at 'em.' + +We had no difficulty getting them out. Abe began to yell. Some +men rushed out to learn the cause. He seized the foremost man, +making a hideous uproar all the while, and in three minutes had +every man out of the hotel and a lively row going on. + +In two minutes more Graeme and I had the door to the ball-room +locked and barricaded with empty casks. We then closed the door of +the bar-room leading to the outside. The bar-room was a strongly +built log-shack, with a heavy door secured, after the manner of the +early cabins, with two strong oak bars, so that we felt safe from +attack from that quarter. + +The ball-room we could not hold long, for the door was slight and +entrance was possible through the windows. But as only a few casks +of liquor were left there, our main work would be in the bar, so +that the fight would be to hold the passage-way. This we +barricaded with casks and tables. But by this time the crowd had +begun to realise what had happened, and were wildly yelling at door +and windows. With an axe which Graeme had brought with him the +casks were soon stove in, and left to empty themselves. + +As I was about to empty the last cask, Graeme stopped me, saying, +'Let that stand here. It will help us.' And so it did. 'Now skip +for the barricade,' yelled Graeme, as a man came crashing through +the window. Before he could regain his feet, however, Graeme had +seized him and flung him out upon the heads of the crowd outside. +But through the other windows men were coming in, and Graeme rushed +for the barricade, followed by two of the enemy, the foremost of +whom I received at the top and hurled back upon the others. + +'Now, be quick!' said Graeme; 'I'll hold this. Don't break any +bottles on the floor--throw them out there,' pointing to a little +window high up in the wall. + +I made all haste. The casks did not take much time, and soon the +whisky and beer were flowing over the floor. It made me think of +Geordie's regret over the 'sinfu' waste.' The bottles took longer, +and glancing up now and then I saw that Graeme was being hard +pressed. Men would leap, two and three at a time, upon the +barricade, and Graeme's arms would shoot out, and over they would +topple upon the heads of those nearest. It was a great sight to +see him standing alone with a smile on his face and the light of +battle in his eye, coolly meeting his assailants with those +terrific, lightning-like blows. In fifteen minutes my work was +done. + +'What next?' I asked. 'How do we get out?' + +'How is the door?' he replied. + +I looked through the port-hole and said, 'A crowd of men waiting.' + +'We'll have to make a dash for it, I fancy,' he replied cheerfully, +though his face was covered with blood and his breath was coming in +short gasps. + +'Get down the bars and be ready.' But even as he spoke a chair +hurled from below caught him on the arm, and before he could +recover, a man had cleared the barricade and was upon him like a +tiger. It was Idaho Jack. + +'Hold the barricade,' Graeme called out, as they both went down. + +I sprang to his place, but I had not much hope of holding it long. +I had the heavy oak bar of the door in my hands, and swinging it +round my head I made the crowd give back for a few moments. + +Meantime Graeme had shaken off his enemy, who was circling about +him upon his tip-toes, with a long knife in his hand, waiting for a +chance to spring. + +'I have been waiting for this for some time, Mr. Graeme,' he said +smiling. + +'Yes,' replied Graeme, 'ever since I spoiled your cut-throat game +in 'Frisco. How is the little one?' he added sarcastically. + +Idaho's face lost its smile and became distorted with fury as he +replied, spitting out his words, 'She--is--where you will be before +I am done with you.' + +'Ah! you murdered her too! You'll hang some beautiful day, Idaho,' +said Graeme, as Idaho sprang upon him. + +Graeme dodged his blow and caught his forearm with his left hand +and held up high the murderous knife. Back and forward they swayed +over the floor, slippery with whisky, the knife held high in the +air. I wondered why Graeme did not strike, and then I saw his +right hand hung limp from the wrist. The men were crowding upon +the barricade. I was in despair. Graeme's strength was going +fast. With a yell of exultant fury Idaho threw himself with all +his weight upon Graeme, who could only cling to him. They swayed +together towards me, but as they fell I brought down my bar upon +the upraised hand and sent the knife flying across the room. +Idaho's howl of rage and pain was mingled with a shout from below, +and there, dashing the crowd right and left, came old Nelson, +followed by Abe, Sandy, Baptiste, Shaw, and others. As they +reached the barricade it crashed down and, carrying me with it, +pinned me fast. + +Looking out between the barrels, I saw what froze my heart with +horror. In the fall Graeme had wound his arms about his enemy and +held him in a grip so deadly that he could not strike; but Graeme's +strength was failing, and when I looked I saw that Idaho was slowly +dragging both across the slippery floor to where the knife lay. +Nearer and nearer his outstretched fingers came to the knife. In +vain I yelled and struggled. My voice was lost in the awful din, +and the barricade held me fast. Above me, standing on a barrel- +head, was Baptiste, yelling like a demon. In vain I called to him. +My fingers could just reach his foot, and he heeded not at all my +touch. Slowly Idaho was dragging his almost unconscious victim +toward the knife. His fingers were touching the blade point, when, +under a sudden inspiration, I pulled out my penknife, opened it +with my teeth, and drove the blade into Baptiste's foot. With a +blood-curdling yell he sprang down and began dancing round in his +rage, peering among the barrels. + +'Look! look!' I was calling in agony, and pointing; 'for heaven's +sake, look! Baptiste!' + +The fingers had closed upon the knife, the knife was already high +in the air, when, with a shriek, Baptiste cleared the room at a +bound, and, before the knife could fall, the little Frenchman's +boot had caught the uplifted wrist, and sent the knife flying to +the wall. + +Then there was a great rushing sound as of wind through the forest, +and the lights went out. When I awoke, I found myself lying with +my head on Graeme's knees, and Baptiste sprinkling snow on my face. +As I looked up Graeme leaned over me, and, smiling down into my +eyes, he said-- + +'Good boy! It was a great fight, and we put it up well'; and then +he whispered, 'I owe you my life, my boy.' + +His words thrilled my heart through and through, for I loved him as +only men can love men; but I only answered-- + +'I could not keep them back.' + +'It was well done,' he said; and I felt proud. I confess I was +thankful to be so well out of it, for Graeme got off with a bone in +his wrist broken, and I with a couple of ribs cracked; but had it +not been for the open barrel of whisky which kept them occupied for +a time, offering too good a chance to be lost, and for the timely +arrival of Nelson, neither of us had ever seen the light again. + +We found Craig sound asleep upon his couch. His consternation on +waking to see us torn, bruised, and bloody was laughable; but he +hastened to find us warm water and bandages, and we soon felt +comfortable. + +Baptiste was radiant with pride and light over the fight, and +hovered about Graeme and me giving vent to his feelings in admiring +French and English expletives. But Abe was disgusted because of +the failure at Slavin's; for when Nelson looked in, he saw Slavin's +French-Canadian wife in charge, with her baby on her lap, and he +came back to Shaw and said, 'Come away, we can't touch this'; and +Shaw, after looking in, agreed that nothing could be done. A baby +held the fort. + +As Craig listened to the account of the fight, he tried hard not to +approve, but he could not keep the gleam out of his eyes; and as I +pictured Graeme dashing back the crowd thronging the barricade till +he was brought down by the chair, Craig laughed gently, and put his +hand on Graeme's knee. And as I went on to describe my agony while +Idaho's fingers were gradually nearing the knife, his face grew +pale and his eyes grew wide with horror. + +'Baptiste here did the business,' I said, and the little Frenchman +nodded complacently and said-- + +'Dat's me for sure.' + +'By the way, how is your foot?' asked Graeme. + +'He's fuss-rate. Dat's what you call--one bite of--of--dat leel +bees, he's dere, you put your finger dere, he's not dere!--what you +call him?' + +'Flea!' I suggested. + +'Oui!' cried Baptiste. 'Dat's one bite of flea.' + +'I was thankful I was under the barrels,' I replied, smiling. + +'Oui! Dat's mak' me ver mad. I jump an' swear mos' awful bad. +Dat's pardon me, M'sieu Craig, heh?' + +But Craig only smiled at him rather sadly. 'It was awfully risky,' +he said to Graeme, 'and it was hardly worth it. They'll get more +whisky, and anyway the League is gone.' + +'Well,' said Graeme with a sigh of satisfaction, 'it is not quite +such a one-sided affair as it was.' + +And we could say nothing in reply, for we could hear Nixon snoring +in the next room, and no one had heard of Billy, and there were +others of the League that we knew were even now down at Slavin's. +It was thought best that all should remain in Mr. Craig's shack, not +knowing what might happen; and so we lay where we could and we +needed none to sing us to sleep. + +When I awoke, stiff and sore, it was to find breakfast ready and +old man Nelson in charge. As we were seated, Craig came in, and I +saw that he was not the man of the night before. His courage had +come back, his face was quiet and his eye clear; he was his own man +again. + +'Geordie has been out all night, but has failed to find Billy,' he +announced quietly. + +We did not talk much; Graeme and I worried with our broken bones, +and the others suffered from a general morning depression. But, +after breakfast, as the men were beginning to move, Craig took down +his Bible, and saying-- + +'Wait a few minutes, men!' he read slowly, in his beautiful clear +voice, that psalm for all fighters-- + + + 'God is our refuge and strength,' + + +and soon to the noble words-- + + + 'The Lord of Hosts is with us; + The God of Jacob is our refuge.' + + +How the mighty words pulled us together, lifted us till we grew +ashamed of our ignoble rage and of our ignoble depression! + +And then Craig prayed in simple, straight-going words. There was +acknowledgement of failure, but I knew he was thinking chiefly of +himself; and there was gratitude, and that was for the men about +him, and I felt my face burn with shame; and there was petition for +help, and we all thought of Nixon, and Billy, and the men wakening +from their debauch at Slavin's this pure, bright morning. And then +he asked that we might be made faithful and worthy of God, whose +battle it was. Then we all stood up and shook hands with him in +silence, and every man knew a covenant was being made. But none +saw his meeting with Nixon. He sent us all away before that. + +Nothing was heard of the destruction of the hotel stock-in-trade. +Unpleasant questions would certainly be asked, and the proprietor +decided to let bad alone. On the point of respectability the +success of the ball was not conspicuous, but the anti-League men +were content, if not jubilant. + +Billy Breen was found by Geordie late in the afternoon in his own +old and deserted shack, breathing heavily, covered up in his +filthy, mouldering bed-clothes, with a half-empty bottle of whisky +at his side. Geordie's grief and rage were beyond even his Scotch +control. He spoke few words, but these were of such concentrated +vehemence that no one felt the need of Abe's assistance in +vocabulary. + +Poor Billy! We carried him to Mrs. Mavor's home; put him in a warm +bath, rolled him in blankets, and gave him little sips of hot +water, then of hot milk and coffee; as I had seen a clever doctor +in the hospital treat a similar case of nerve and heart depression. +But the already weakened system could not recover from the awful +shock of the exposure following the debauch; and on Sunday +afternoon we saw that his heart was failing fast. All day the +miners had been dropping in to inquire after him, for Billy had +been a great favourite in other days, and the attention of the town +had been admiringly centred upon his fight of these last weeks. It +was with no ordinary sorrow that the news of his condition was +received. As Mrs. Mavor sang to him, his large coarse hands moved +in time to the music, but he did not open his eyes till he heard +Mr. Craig's voice in the next room; then he spoke his name, and Mr. +Craig was kneeling beside him in a moment. The words came slowly-- + +'Oi tried--to fight it hout--but---oi got beaten. Hit 'urts to +think 'E's hashamed o' me. Oi'd like t'a done better--oi would.' + +'Ashamed of you, Billy!' said Craig, in a voice that broke. 'Not +He.' + +'An'--ye hall--'elped me so!' he went on. 'Oi wish oi'd 'a done +better--oi do,' and his eyes sought Geordie, and then rested on +Mrs. Mavor, who smiled back at him with a world of love in her +eyes. + +'You hain't hashamed o' me--yore heyes saigh so,' he said looking +at her. + +'No, Billy,' she said, and I wondered at her steady voice, 'not a +bit. Why, Billy, I am proud of you.' + +He gazed up at her with wonder and ineffable love in his little +eyes, then lifted his hand slightly toward her. She knelt quickly +and took it in both of hers, stroking it and kissing it. + +'Oi haught t'a done better. Oi'm hawful sorry oi went back on 'Im. +Hit was the lemonaide. The boys didn't mean no 'arm--but hit +started the 'ell hinside.' + +Geordie hurled out some bitter words. + +'Don't be 'ard on 'em, Geordie; they didn't mean no 'arm,' he said, +and his eyes kept waiting till Geordie said hurriedly-- + +'Na! na! lad--a'll juist leave them till the Almichty.' + +Then Mrs. Mavor sang softly, smoothing his hand, 'Just as I am,' +and Billy dozed quietly for half an hour. + +When he awoke again his eyes turned to Mr. Craig, and they were +troubled and anxious. + +'Oi tried 'ard. Oi wanted to win,' he struggled to say. By this +time Craig was master of himself, and he answered in a clear, +distinct voice-- + +'Listen, Billy! You made a great fight, and you are going to win +yet. And besides, do you remember the sheep that got lost over the +mountains?'--this parable was Billy's special delight--'He didn't +beat it when He got it, did he? He took it in His arms and carried +it home. And so He will you.' + +And Billy, keeping his eyes fastened on Mr. Craig, simply said-- + +'Will 'E?' + +'Sure!' said Craig. + +'Will 'E?' he repeated, turning his eyes upon Mrs. Mavor. + +'Why, yes, Billy,' she answered cheerily, though the tears were +streaming from her eyes. 'I would, and He loves you far more.' + +He looked at her, smiled, and closed his eyes. I put my hand on +his heart; it was fluttering feebly. Again a troubled look passed +over his face. + +'My--poor--hold--mother,' he whispered, 'she's--hin--the--wukus.' + +'I shall take care of her, Billy,' said Mrs. Mavor, in a clear +voice, and again Billy smiled. Then he turned his eyes to Mr. +Craig, and from him to Geordie, and at last to Mrs. Mavor, where +they rested. She bent over and kissed him twice on the forehead. + +'Tell 'er,' he said, with difficulty, "E's took me 'ome.' + +'Yes, Billy!' she cried, gazing into his glazing eyes. He tried to +lift her hand. She kissed him again. He drew one deep breath and +lay quite still. + +'Thank the blessed Saviour!' said Mr. Craig, reverently. 'He has +taken him home.' + +But Mrs. Mavor held the dead hand tight and sobbed out passionately, +'Oh, Billy, Billy! you helped me once when I needed help! I cannot +forget!' + +And Geordie, groaning, 'Ay, laddie, laddie,' passed out into the +fading light of the early evening. + +Next day no one went to work, for to all it seemed a sacred day. +They carried him into the little church, and there Mr. Craig spoke +of his long, hard fight, and of his final victory; for he died +without a fear, and with love to the men who, not knowing, had been +his death. And there was no bitterness in any heart, for Mr. Craig +read the story of the sheep, and told how gently He had taken Billy +home; but, though no word was spoken, it was there the League was +made again. + +They laid him under the pines, beside Lewis Mavor; and the miners +threw sprigs of evergreen into the open grave. When Slavin, +sobbing bitterly, brought his sprig, no one stopped him, though all +thought it strange. + +As we turned to leave the grave, the light from the evening sun +came softly through the gap in the mountains, and, filling the +valley, touched the trees and the little mound beneath with glory. +And I thought of that other glory, which is brighter than the sun, +and was not sorry that poor Billy's weary fight was over; and I +could not help agreeing with Craig that it was there the League had +its revenge. + + +CHAPTER X + +WHAT CAME TO SLAVIN + + +Billy Breen's legacy to the Black Rock mining camp was a new +League, which was more than the old League re-made. The League was +new in its spirit and in its methods. The impression made upon the +camp by Billy Breen's death was very remarkable, and I have never +been quite able to account for it. The mood of the community at +the time was peculiarly susceptible. Billy was one of the oldest +of the old-timers. His decline and fall had been a long process, +and his struggle for life and manhood was striking enough to arrest +the attention and awaken the sympathy of the whole camp. We +instinctively side with a man in his struggle for freedom; for we +feel that freedom is native to him and to us. The sudden collapse +of the struggle stirred the men with a deep pity for the beaten +man, and a deep contempt for those who had tricked him to his doom. +But though the pity and the contempt remained, the gloom was +relieved and the sense of defeat removed from the men's minds by +the transforming glory of Billy's last hour. Mr. Craig, reading of +the tragedy of Billy's death, transfigured defeat into victory, and +this was generally accepted by the men as the true reading, though +to them it was full of mystery. But they could all understand and +appreciate at full value the spirit that breathed through the words +of the dying man: 'Don't be 'ard on 'em, they didn't mean no 'arm.' +And this was the new spirit of the League. + +It was this spirit that surprised Slavin into sudden tears at the +grave's side. He had come braced for curses and vengeance, for all +knew it was he who had doctored Billy's lemonade, and instead of +vengeance the message from the dead that echoed through the voice +of the living was one of pity and forgiveness. + +But the days of the League's negative, defensive warfare were over. +The fight was to the death, and now the war was to be carried into +the enemy's country. The League men proposed a thoroughly equipped +and well-conducted coffee-room, reading-room, and hall, to parallel +the enemy's lines of operation, and defeat them with their own +weapons upon their own ground. The main outlines of the scheme +were clearly defined and were easily seen, but the perfecting of +the details called for all Craig's tact and good sense. When, for +instance, Vernon Winton, who had charge of the entertainment +department, came for Craig's opinion as to a minstrel troupe and +private theatricals, Craig was prompt with his answer-- + +'Anything clean goes.' + +'A nigger show?' asked Winton. + +'Depends upon the niggers,' replied Craig with a gravely comic +look, shrewdly adding, 'ask Mrs. Mavor'; and so the League Minstrel +and Dramatic Company became an established fact, and proved, as +Craig afterwards told me, 'a great means of grace to the camp.' + +Shaw had charge of the social department, whose special care it was +to see that the men were made welcome to the cosy, cheerful reading +room, where they might chat, smoke, read, write, or play games, +according to fancy. + +But Craig felt that the success or failure of the scheme would +largely depend upon the character of the Resident Manager, who, +while caring for reading-room and hall, would control and operate +the important department represented by the coffee-room. + +'At this point the whole business may come to grief,' he said to +Mrs. Mavor, without whose counsel nothing was done. + +'Why come to grief?' she asked brightly. + +'Because if we don't get the right man, that's what will happen,' +he replied in a tone that spoke of anxious worry. + +'But we shall get the right man, never fear.' Her serene courage +never faltered. 'He will come to us.' + +Craig turned and gazed at her in frank admiration and said-- + +'If I only had your courage!' + +'Courage!' she answered quickly. 'It is not for you to say that'; +and at his answering look the red came into her cheek and the +depths in her eyes glowed, and I marvelled and wondered, looking at +Craig's cool face, whether his blood were running evenly through +his veins. But his voice was quiet, a shade too quiet I thought, +as he gravely replied-- + +'I would often be a coward but for the shame of it.' + +And so the League waited for the man to come, who was to be +Resident Manager and make the new enterprise a success. And come +he did; but the manner of his coming was so extraordinary, that I +have believed in the doctrine of a special providence ever since; +for as Craig said, 'If he had come straight from Heaven I could not +have been more surprised.' + +While the League was thus waiting, its interest centred upon +Slavin, chiefly because he represented more than any other the +forces of the enemy; and though Billy Breen stood between him and +the vengeance of the angry men who would have made short work of +him and his saloon, nothing could save him from himself, and after +the funeral Slavin went to his bar and drank whisky as he had never +drunk before. But the more he drank the fiercer and gloomier he +became, and when the men drinking with him chaffed him, he swore +deeply and with such threats that they left him alone. + +It did not help Slavin either to have Nixon stride in through the +crowd drinking at his bar and give him words of warning. + +'It is not your fault, Slavin,' he said in slow, cool voice, 'that +you and your precious crew didn't sent me to my death, too. You've +won your bet, but I want to say, that next time, though you are +seven to one, or ten times that, when any of you boys offer me a +drink I'll take you to mean fight, and I'll not disappoint you, and +some one will be killed,' and so saying he strode out again, +leaving a mean-looking crowd of men behind him. All who had not +been concerned in the business at Nixon's shack expressed approval +of his position, and hoped he would 'see it through.' + +But the impression of Nixon's words upon Slavin was as nothing +compared with that made by Geordie Crawford. It was not what he +said so much as the manner of awful solemnity he carried. Geordie +was struggling conscientiously to keep his promise to 'not be 'ard +on the boys,' and found considerable relief in remembering that he +had agreed 'to leave them tae the Almichty.' But the manner of +leaving them was so solemnly awful, that I could not wonder that +Slavin's superstitious Irish nature supplied him with supernatural +terrors. It was the second day after the funeral that Geordie and +I were walking towards Slavin's. There was a great shout of +laughter as we drew near. + +Geordie stopped short, and saying, 'We'll juist gang in a meenute,' +passed through the crowd and up to the bar. + +'Michael Slavin,' began Geordie, and the men stared in dead, +silence, with their glasses in their hands. 'Michael Slavin, a' +promised the lad a'd bear ye nae ill wull, but juist leave ye tae +the Almichty; an' I want tae tell ye that a'm keepin' ma wur-r-d. +But'--and here he raised his hand, and his voice became +preternaturally solemn--'his bluid is upon yer han's. Do ye no' +see it?' + +His voice rose sharply, and as he pointed, Slavin instinctively +glanced at his hands, and Geordie added-- + +'Ay, and the Lord will require it o' you and yer hoose.' + +They told me that Slavin shivered as if taken with ague after +Geordie went out, and though he laughed and swore, he did not stop +drinking till he sank into a drunken stupor and had to be carried +to bed. His little French-Canadian wife could not understand the +change that had come over her husband. + +'He's like one bear,' she confided to Mrs. Mavor, to whom she was +showing her baby of a year old. 'He's not kees me one tam dis day. +He's mos hawful bad, he's not even look at de baby.' And this +seemed sufficient proof that something was seriously wrong; for she +went on to say-- + +'He's tink more for dat leel baby dan for de whole worl'; he's tink +more for dat baby dan for me,' but she shrugged her pretty little +shoulders in deprecation of her speech. + +'You must pray for him,' said Mrs. Mavor, 'and all will come +right.' + +'Ah! madame!' she replied earnestly, 'every day, every day, I pray +la sainte Vierge et tous les saints for him.' + +'You must pray to your Father in heaven for him.' + +'Ah! oui! I weel pray,' and Mrs. Mavor sent her away bright with +smiles, and with new hope and courage in her heart. + +She had very soon need of all her courage, for at the week's end +her baby fell dangerously ill. Slavin's anxiety and fear were not +relieved much by the reports the men brought him from time to time +of Geordie's ominous forebodings; for Geordie had no doubt but that +the Avenger of Blood was hot upon Slavin's trail; and as the +sickness grew, he became confirmed in this conviction. While he +could not be said to find satisfaction in Slavin's impending +affliction, he could hardly hide his complacency in the promptness +of Providence in vindicating his theory of retribution. + +But Geordie's complacency was somewhat rudely shocked by Mr. +Craig's answer to his theory one day. + +'You read your Bible to little profit, it seems to me, Geordie: or, +perhaps, you have never read the Master's teaching about the Tower +of Siloam. Better read that and take that warning to yourself.' + +Geordie gazed after Mr. Craig as he turned away, and muttered-- + +'The toor o' Siloam, is it? Ay, a' ken fine aboot the toor o' +Siloam, and aboot the toor o' Babel as weel; an' a've read, too, +about the blaspheemious Herod, an' sic like. Man, but he's a hot- +heided laddie, and lacks discreemeenation.' + +'What about Herod, Geordie?' I asked. + +'Aboot Herod?'--with a strong tinge of contempt in his tone. +'Aboot Herod? Man, hae ye no' read in the Screepturs aboot Herod +an' the wur-r-ms in the wame o' him?' + +'Oh yes, I see,' I hastened to answer. + +'Ay, a fule can see what's flapped in his face,' with which bit of +proverbial philosophy he suddenly left me. But Geordie thenceforth +contented himself, in Mr. Craig's presence at least, with ominous +head-shakings, equally aggravating, and impossible to answer. + +That same night, however, Geordie showed that with all his theories +he had a man's true heart, for he came in haste to Mrs. Mavor to +say: + +'Ye'll be needed ower yonder, a'm thinkin'.' + +'Why? Is the baby worse? Have you been in?' + +'Na, na,' replied Geordie cautiously, 'a'll no gang where a'm no +wanted. But yon puir thing, ye can hear ootside weepin' and +moanin'.' + +'She'll maybe need ye tae,' he went on dubiously to me. 'Ye're a +kind o' doctor, a' hear,' not committing himself to any opinion as +to my professional value. But Slavin would have none of me, having +got the doctor sober enough to prescribe. + +The interest of the camp in Slavin was greatly increased by the +illness of his baby, which was to him as the apple of his eye. +There were a few who, impressed by Geordie's profound convictions +upon the matter, were inclined to favour the retribution theory, +and connect the baby's illness with the vengeance of the Almighty. +Among these few was Slavin himself, and goaded by his remorseful +terrors he sought relief in drink. But this brought him only +deeper and fiercer gloom; so that between her suffering child and +her savagely despairing husband, the poor mother was desperate with +terror and grief. + +'Ah! madame,' she sobbed to Mrs. Mavor, 'my heart is broke for him. +He's heet noting for tree days, but jis dreenk, dreenk, dreenk.' + +The next day a man came for me in haste. The baby was dying and +the doctor was drunk. I found the little one in a convulsion lying +across Mrs. Mavor's knees, the mother kneeling beside it, wringing +her hands in a dumb agony, and Slavin standing near, silent and +suffering. I glanced at the bottle of medicine upon the table and +asked Mrs. Mavor the dose, and found the baby had been poisoned. +My look of horror told Slavin something was wrong, and striding to +me he caught my arm and asked-- + +'What is it? Is the medicine wrong?' + +I tried to put him off, but his grip tightened till his fingers +seemed to reach the bone. + +'The dose is certainly too large; but let me go, I must do +something.' + +He let me go at once, saying in a voice that made my heart sore for +him, 'He has killed my baby; he has killed my baby.' And then he +cursed the doctor with awful curses, and with a look of such +murderous fury on his face that I was glad the doctor was too drunk +to appear. + +His wife hearing his curses, and understanding the cause, broke out +into wailing hard to bear. + +'Ah! mon petit ange! It is dat wheeskey dat's keel mon baby. Ah! +mon cheri, mon amour. Ah! mon Dieu! Ah, Michael, how often I say +that wheeskey he's not good ting.' + +It was more than Slavin could bear, and with awful curses he passed +out. Mrs. Mavor laid the baby in its crib, for the convulsion had +passed away; and putting her arms about the wailing little +Frenchwoman, comforted and soothed her as a mother might her +child. + +'And you must help your husband,' I heard her say. 'He will need +you more than ever. Think of him.' + +'Ah oui! I weel,' was the quick reply, and from that moment there +was no more wailing. + +It seemed no more than a minute till Slavin came in again, sober, +quiet, and steady; the passion was all gone from his face, and only +the grief remained. + +As we stood leaning over the sleeping child the little thing opened +its eyes, saw its father, and smiled. It was too much for him. +The big man dropped on his knees with a dry sob. + +'Is there no chance at all, at all?' he whispered, but I could give +him no hope. He immediately rose, and pulling himself together, +stood perfectly quiet. + +A new terror seized upon the mother. + +'My baby is not--what you call it?' going through the form of +baptism. 'An' he will not come to la sainte Vierge,' she said, +crossing herself. + +'Do not fear for your little one,' said Mrs. Mavor, still with her +arms about her. 'The good Saviour will take your darling into His +own arms.' + +But the mother would not be comforted by this. And Slavin too, was +uneasy. + +'Where is Father Goulet?' he asked. + +'Ah! you were not good to the holy pere de las tam, Michael,' she +replied sadly. 'The saints are not please for you.' + +'Where is the priest?' he demanded. + +'I know not for sure. At de Landin', dat's lak.' + +'I'll go for him,' he said. But his wife clung to him, beseeching +him not to leave her, and indeed he was loth to leave his little +one. + +I found Craig and told him the difficulty. With his usual +promptness, he was ready with a solution. + +'Nixon has a team. He will go.' Then he added, 'I wonder if they +would not like me to baptize their little one. Father Goulet and I +have exchanged offices before now. I remember how he came to one +of my people in my absence, when she was dying, read with her, +prayed with her, comforted her, and helped her across the river. +He is a good soul, and has no nonsense about him. Send for me if +you think there is need. It will make no difference to the baby, +but it will comfort the mother.' + +Nixon was willing enough to go; but when he came to the door Mrs. +Mavor saw the hard look in his face. He had not forgotten his +wrong, for day by day he was still fighting the devil within that +Slavin had called to life. But Mrs. Mavor, under cover of getting +him instructions, drew him into the room. While listening to her, +his eyes wandered from one to the other of the group till they +rested upon the little white face in the crib. She noticed the +change in his face. + +'They fear the little one will never see the Saviour if it is not +baptized,' she said, in a low tone. + +He was eager to go. + +'I'll do my best to get the priest,' he said, and was gone on his +sixty miles' race with death. + +The long afternoon wore on, but before it was half gone I saw Nixon +could not win, and that the priest would be too late, so I sent for +Mr. Craig. From the moment he entered the room he took command of +us all. He was so simple, so manly, so tender, the hearts of the +parents instinctively turned to him. + +As he was about to proceed with the baptism, the mother whispered +to Mrs. Mavor, who hesitatingly asked Mr. Craig if he would object +to using holy water. + +'To me it is the same as any other,' he replied gravely. + +'An' will he make the good sign?' asked the mother timidly. + +And so the child was baptized by the Presbyterian minister with +holy water and with the sign of the cross. I don't suppose it was +orthodox, and it rendered chaotic some of my religious notions, but +I thought more of Craig that moment than ever before. He was more +man than minister, or perhaps he was so good a minister that day +because so much a man. As he read about the Saviour and the +children and the disciples who tried to get in between them, and as +he told us the story in his own simple and beautiful way, and then +went on to picture the home of the little children, and the same +Saviour in the midst of them, I felt my heart grow warm, and I +could easily understand the cry of the mother-- + +'Oh, mon Jesu, prenez moi aussi, take me wiz mon mignon.' + +The cry wakened Slavin's heart, and he said huskily-- + +'Oh! Annette! Annette!' + +'Ah, oui! an' Michael too!' Then to Mr. Craig-- + +'You tink He's tak me some day? Eh?' + +'All who love Him,' he replied. + +'An' Michael too?' she asked, her eyes searching his face, 'An' +Michael too?' + +But Craig only replied: 'All who love Him.' + +'Ah, Michael, you must pray le bon Jesu. He's garde notre mignon.' +And then she bent over the babe, whispering-- + +'Ah, mon cheri, mon amour, adieu! adieu! mon ange!' till Slavin put +his arms about her and took her away, for as she was whispering her +farewells, her baby, with a little answering sigh, passed into the +House with many rooms. + +'Whisht, Annette darlin'; don't cry for the baby,' said her +husband. 'Shure it's better off than the rest av us, it is. An' +didn't ye hear what the minister said about the beautiful place it +is? An' shure he wouldn't lie to us at all.' But a mother cannot +be comforted for her first-born son. + +An hour later Nixon brought Father Goulet. He was a little +Frenchman with gentle manners and the face of a saint. Craig +welcomed him warmly, and told him what he had done. + +'That is good, my brother,' he said, with gentle courtesy, and, +turning to the mother, 'Your little one is safe.' + +Behind Father Goulet came Nixon softly, and gazed down upon the +little quiet face, beautiful with the magic of death. Slavin came +quietly and stood beside him. Nixon turned and offered his hand. +But Slavin said, moving slowly back-- + +'I did ye a wrong, Nixon, an' it's a sorry man I am this day for +it.' + +'Don't say a word, Slavin,' answered Nixon, hurriedly. 'I know how +you feel. I've got a baby too. I want to see it again. That's +why the break hurt me so.' + +'As God's above,' replied Slavin earnestly, 'I'll hinder ye no +more.' They shook hands, and we passed out. + +We laid the baby under the pines, not far from Billy Breen, and the +sweet spring wind blew through the Gap, and came softly down the +valley, whispering to the pines and the grass and the hiding +flowers of the New Life coming to the world. And the mother must +have heard the whisper in her heart, for, as the Priest was saying +the words of the Service, she stood with Mrs. Mavor's arms about +her, and her eyes were looking far away beyond the purple mountain- +tops, seeing what made her smile. And Slavin, too, looked +different. His very features seemed finer. The coarseness was +gone out of his face. What had come to him I could not tell. + +But when the doctor came into Slavin's house that night it was the +old Slavin I saw, but with a look of such deadly fury on his face +that I tried to get the doctor out at once. But he was half drunk +and after his manner was hideously humorous. + +'How do, ladies! How do, gentlemen!' was his loud-voiced salutation. +'Quite a professional gathering, clergy predominating. Lion and Lamb +too, ha! ha! which is the lamb, eh? ha! ha! very good! awfully sorry +to hear of your loss, Mrs. Slavin; did our best you know, can't help +this sort of thing.' + +Before any one could move, Craig was at his side, and saying in a +clear, firm voice, 'One moment, doctor,' caught him by the arm and +had him out of the room before he knew it. Slavin, who had been +crouching in his chair with hands twitching and eyes glaring, rose +and followed, still crouching as he walked. I hurried after him, +calling him back. Turning at my voice, the doctor saw Slavin +approaching. There was something so terrifying in his swift +noiseless crouching motion, that the doctor, crying out in fear +'Keep him off,' fairly turned and fled. He was too late. Like a +tiger Slavin leaped upon him and without waiting to strike had him +by the throat with both hands, and bearing him to the ground, +worried him there as a dog might a cat. + +Immediately Craig and I were upon him, but though we lifted him +clear off the ground we could not loosen that two-handed strangling +grip. At we were struggling there a light hand touched my +shoulder. It was Father Goulet. + +'Please let him go, and stand away from us,' he said, waving us +back. We obeyed. He leaned over Slavin and spoke a few words to +him. Slavin started as if struck a heavy blow, looked up at the +priest with fear in his face, but still keeping his grip. + +'Let him go,' said the priest. Slavin hesitated. 'Let him go! +quick!' said the priest again, and Slavin with a snarl let go his +hold and stood sullenly facing the priest. + +Father Goulet regarded him steadily for some seconds and then +asked-- + +'What would you do?' His voice was gentle enough, even sweet, but +there was something in it that chilled my marrow. 'What would you +do?' he repeated. + +'He murdered my child,' growled Slavin. + +'Ah! how?' + +'He was drunk and poisoned him.' + +'Ah! who gave him drink? Who made him a drunkard two years ago? +Who has wrecked his life?' + +There was no answer, and the even-toned voice went relentlessly on-- + +'Who is the murderer of your child now?' + +Slavin groaned and shuddered. + +'Go!' and the voice grew stern. 'Repent of your sin and add not +another.' + +Slavin turned his eyes upon the motionless figure on the ground and +then upon the priest. Father Goulet took one step towards him, +and, stretching out his hand and pointing with his finger, said-- + +'Go!' + +And Slavin slowly backed away and went into his house. It was an +extraordinary scene, and it is often with me now: the dark figure +on the ground, the slight erect form of the priest with +outstretched arm and finger, and Slavin backing away, fear and fury +struggling in his face. + +It was a near thing for the doctor, however, and two minutes more +of that grip would have done for him. As it was, we had the +greatest difficulty in reviving him. + +What the priest did with Slavin after getting him inside I know +not; that has always been a mystery to me. But when we were +passing the saloon that night after taking Mrs. Mavor home, we saw +a light and heard strange sounds within. Entering, we found +another whisky raid in progress, Slavin himself being the raider. +We stood some moments watching him knocking in the heads of casks +and emptying bottles. I thought he had gone mad, and approached +him cautiously. + +'Hello, Slavin!' I called out; 'what does this mean?' + +He paused in his strange work, and I saw that his face, though +resolute, was quiet enough. + +'It means I'm done wid the business, I am,' he said, in a +determined voice. 'I'll help no more to kill any man, or,' in a +lower tone, 'any man's baby.' The priest's words had struck home. + +'Thank God, Slavin!' said Craig, offering his hand; 'you are much +too good a man for the business.' + +'Good or bad, I'm done wid it,' he replied, going on with his work. + +'You are throwing away good money, Slavin,' I said, as the head of +a cask crashed in. + +'It's meself that knows it, for the price of whisky has riz in town +this week,' he answered, giving me a look out of the corner of his +eye. 'Bedad! it was a rare clever job,' referring to our Black +Rock Hotel affair. + +'But won't you be sorry for this?' asked Craig. + +'Beloike I will; an' that's why I'm doin' it before I'm sorry for +it,' he replied, with a delightful bull. + +'Look here, Slavin,' said Craig earnestly; 'if I can be of use to +you in any way, count on me.' + +'It's good to me the both of yez have been, an' I'll not forget it +to yez,' he replied, with like earnestness. + +As we told Mrs. Mavor that night, for Craig thought it too good to +keep, her eyes seemed to grow deeper and the light in them to glow +more intense as she listened to Craig pouring out his tale. Then +she gave him her hand and said-- + +'You have your man at last.' + +'What man?' + +'The man you have been waiting for.' + +'Slavin!' + +'Why not?' + +'I never thought of it.' + +'No more did he, nor any of us.' Then, after a pause, she added +gently, 'He has been sent to us?' + +'Do you know, I believe you are right,' Craig said slowly, and then +added, 'But you always are.' + +'I fear not,' she answered; but I thought she liked to hear his +words. + +The whole town was astounded next morning when Slavin went to work +in the mines, and its astonishment only deepened as the days went +on, and he stuck to his work. Before three weeks had gone the +League had bought and remodelled the saloon and had secured Slavin +as Resident Manager. + +The evening of the reopening of Slavin's saloon, as it was still +called, was long remembered in Black Rock. It was the occasion of +the first appearance of 'The League Minstrel and Dramatic Troupe,' +in what was described as a 'hair-lifting tragedy with appropriate +musical selections.' Then there was a grand supper and speeches +and great enthusiasm, which reached its climax when Nixon rose to +propose the toast of the evening--'Our Saloon.' His speech was +simply a quiet, manly account of his long struggle with the deadly +enemy. When he came to speak of his recent defeat he said-- + +'And while I am blaming no one but myself, I am glad to-night that +this saloon is on our side, for my own sake and for the sake of +those who have been waiting long to see me. But before I sit down +I want to say that while I live I shall not forget that I owe my +life to the man that took me that night to his own shack and put me +in his own bed, and met me next morning with an open hand; for I +tell you I had sworn to God that that morning would be my last.' + +Geordie's speech was characteristic. After a brief reference to +the 'mysteerious ways o' Providence,' which he acknowledged he +might sometimes fail to understand, he went on to express his +unqualified approval of the new saloon. + +'It's a cosy place, an' there's nae sulphur aboot. Besides a' +that,' he went on enthusiastically, 'it'll be a terrible savin'. +I've juist been coontin'.' + +'You bet!' ejaculated a voice with great emphasis. + +'I've juist been coontin',' went on Geordie, ignoring the remark +and the laugh which followed, 'an' it's an awfu'-like money ye pit +ower wi' the whusky. Ye see ye canna dae wi' ane bit glass; ye +maun hae twa or three at the verra least, for it's no verra forrit +ye get wi' ane glass. But wi' yon coffee ye juist get a saxpence- +worth an' ye want nae mair.' + +There was another shout of laughter, which puzzled Geordie much. + +'I dinna see the jowk, but I've slippit ower in whusky mair nor a +hunner dollars.' + +Then he paused, looking hard before him, and twisting his face into +extraordinary shapes till the men looked at him in wonder. + +'I'm rale glad o' this saloon, but it's ower late for the lad that +canna be helpit the noo. He'll not be needin' help o' oors, I +doot, but there are ithers'--and he stopped abruptly and sat down, +with no applause following. + +But when Slavin, our saloon-keeper, rose to reply, the men jumped +up on the seats and yelled till they could yell no more. Slavin +stood, evidently in trouble with himself, and finally broke out-- + +'It's spacheless I am entirely. What's come to me I know not, nor +how it's come. But I'll do my best for yez.' And then the yelling +broke out again. + +I did not yell myself. I was too busy watching the varying lights +in Mrs. Mavor's eyes as she looked from Craig to the yelling men on +the benches and tables, and then to Slavin, and I found myself +wondering if she knew what it was that came to Slavin. + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE TWO CALLS + + +With the call to Mr. Craig I fancy I had something to do myself. +The call came from a young congregation in an eastern city, and was +based partly upon his college record and more upon the advice of +those among the authorities who knew his work in the mountains. +But I flatter myself that my letters to friends who were of +importance in that congregation were not without influence, for I +was of the mind that the man who could handle Black Rock miners as +he could was ready for something larger than a mountain mission. +That he would refuse I had not imagined, though I ought to have +known him better. He was but little troubled over it. He went +with the call and the letters urging his acceptance to Mrs. Mavor. +I was putting the last touches to some of my work in the room at +the back of Mrs. Mavor's house when he came in. She read the +letters and the call quietly, and waited for him to speak. + +"Well?' he said; 'should I go?' + +She started, and grew a little pale. His question suggested a +possibility that had not occurred to her. That he could leave his +work in Black Rock she had hitherto never imagined; but there was +other work, and he was fit for good work anywhere. Why should he +not go? I saw the fear in her face, but I saw more than fear in +her eyes, as for a moment or two she let them rest upon Craig's +face. I read her story, and I was not sorry for either of them. +But she was too much a woman to show her heart easily to the man +she loved, and her voice was even and calm as she answered his +question. + +'Is this a very large congregation?' + +'One of the finest in all the East,' I put in for him. 'It will be +a great thing for Craig.' + +Craig was studying her curiously. I think she noticed his eyes +upon her, for she went on even more quietly-- + +'It will be a great chance for work, and you are able for a larger +sphere, you know, than poor Black Rock affords.' + +'Who will take Black Rock?' he asked. + +'Let some other fellow have a try at it,' I said. 'Why should you +waste your talents here?' + +'Waste?' cried Mrs. Mavor indignantly. + +'Well, "bury," if you like it better,' I replied. + +'It would not take much of a grave for that funeral,' said Craig, +smiling. + +'Oh,' said Mrs. Mavor, 'you will be a great man I know, and perhaps +you ought to go now.' + +But he answered coolly: 'There are fifty men wanting that Eastern +charge, and there is only one wanting Black Rock, and I don't think +Black Rock is anxious for a change, so I have determined to stay +where I am yet a while.' + +Even my deep disgust and disappointment did not prevent me from +seeing the sudden leap of joy in Mrs. Mavor's eyes, but she, with a +great effort, answered quietly-- + +'Black Rock will be very glad, and some of us very, very glad.' + +Nothing could change his mind. There was no one he knew who could +take his place just now, and why should he quit his work? It +annoyed me considerably to feel he was right. Why is it that the +right things are so frequently unpleasant? + +And if I had had any doubt about the matter next Sabbath evening +would have removed it. For the men came about him after the +service and let him feel in their own way how much they approved +his decision, though the self-sacrifice involved did not appeal to +them. They were too truly Western to imagine that any inducements +the East could offer could compensate for his loss of the West. It +was only fitting that the West should have the best, and so the +miners took almost as a matter of course, and certainly as their +right, that the best man they knew should stay with them. But +there were those who knew how much of what most men consider worth +while he had given up, and they loved him no less for it. + +Mrs. Mavor's call was not so easily disposed of. It came close +upon the other, and stirred Black Rock as nothing else had ever +stirred it before. + +I found her one afternoon gazing vacantly at some legal documents +spread out before her on the table, and evidently overcome by their +contents. There was first a lawyer's letter informing her that by +the death of her husband's father she had come into the whole of +the Mavor estates, and all the wealth pertaining thereto. The +letter asked for instructions, and urged an immediate return with a +view to a personal superintendence of the estates. A letter, too, +from a distant cousin of her husband urged her immediate return for +many reasons, but chiefly on account of the old mother who had been +left alone with none nearer of kin than himself to care for her and +cheer her old age. + +With these two came another letter from her mother-in-law herself. +The crabbed, trembling characters were even more eloquent than the +words with which the letter closed. + +'I have lost my boy, and now my husband is gone, and I am a lonely +woman. I have many servants, and some friends, but none near to +me, none so near and dear as my dead son's wife. My days are not +to be many. Come to me, my daughter; I want you and Lewis's +child.' + +'Must I go?' she asked with white lips. + +'Do you know her well?' I asked. + +'I only saw her once or twice,' she answered; 'but she has been +very good to me.' + +'She can hardly need you. She has friends. And surely you are +needed here.' + +She looked at me eagerly. + +'Do you think so?' she said. + +'Ask any man in the camp--Shaw, Nixon, young Winton, Geordie. Ask +Craig,' I replied. + +'Yes, he will tell me,' she said. + +Even as she spoke Craig came up the steps. I passed into my studio +and went on with my work, for my days at Black Rock were getting +few, and many sketches remained to be filled in. + +Through my open door I saw Mrs. Mavor lay her letters before Mr. +Craig, saying, 'I have a call too.' They thought not of me. + +He went through the papers, carefully laid them down without a word +while she waited anxiously, almost impatiently, for him to speak. + +'Well?' she asked, using his own words to her; 'should I go?' + +'I do not know,' he replied; 'that is for you to decide--you know +all the circumstances.' + +'The letters tell all.' Her tone carried a feeling of +disappointment. He did not appear to care. + +'The estates are large?' he asked. + +'Yes, large enough--twelve thousand a year.' + +'And has your mother-in-law any one with her?' + +'She has friends, but, as she says, none near of kin. Her nephew +looks after the works--iron works, you know--he has shares in +them.' + +'She is evidently very lonely,' he answered gravely. + +'What shall I do?' she asked, and I knew she was waiting to hear +him urge her to stay; but he did not see, or at least gave no heed. + +'I cannot say,' he repeated quietly. 'There are many things to +consider; the estates--' + +'The estates seem to trouble you,' she replied, almost fretfully. +He looked up in surprise. I wondered at his slowness. + +'Yes, the estates,' he went on, 'and tenants, I suppose--your +mother-in-law, your little Marjorie's future, your own future.' + +'The estates are in capable hands, I should suppose,' she urged, +'and my future depends upon what I choose my work to be.' + +'But one cannot shift one's responsibilities,' he replied gravely. +'These estates, these tenants, have come to you, and with them come +duties.' + +'I do not want them,' she cried. + +'That life has great possibilities of good,' he said kindly. + +'I had thought that perhaps there was work for me here,' she +suggested timidly. + +'Great work,' he hastened to say. 'You have done great work. But +you will do that wherever you go. The only question is where your +work lies.' + +'You think I should go,' she said suddenly and a little bitterly. + +'I cannot bid you stay,' he answered steadily. + +'How can I go?' she cried, appealing to him. 'Must I go?' + +How he could resist that appeal I could not understand. His face +was cold and hard, and his voice was almost harsh as he replied-- + +'If it is right, you will go--you must go.' + +Then she burst forth-- + +'I cannot go. I shall stay here. My work is here; my heart is +here. How can I go? You thought it worth your while to stay here +and work, why should not I?' + +The momentary gleam in his eyes died out, and again he said coldly-- + +'This work was clearly mine. I am needed here.' + +'Yes, yes!' she cried, her voice full of pain; 'you are needed, but +there is no need of me.' + +'Stop, stop!' he said sharply; 'you must not say so.' + +'I will say it, I must say it,' she cried, her voice vibrating with +the intensity of her feeling. 'I know you do not need me; you have +your work, your miners, your plans; you need no one; you are +strong. But,' and her voice rose to a cry, 'I am not strong by +myself; you have made me strong. I came here a foolish girl, +foolish and selfish and narrow. God sent me grief. Three years +ago my heart died. Now I am living again. I am a woman now, no +longer a girl. You have done this for me. Your life, your words, +yourself--you have showed me a better, a higher life, than I had +ever known before, and now you send me away.' + +She paused abruptly. + +'Blind, stupid fool!' I said to myself. + +He held himself resolutely in hand, answering carefully, but his +voice had lost its coldness and was sweet and kind. + +'Have I done this for you? Then surely God has been good to me. +And you have helped me more than any words could tell you.' + +'Helped!' she repeated scornfully. + +'Yes, helped,' he answered, wondering at her scorn. + +'You can do without my help,' she went on. 'You make people help +you. You will get many to help you; but I need help, too.' She +was standing before him with her hands tightly clasped; her face +was pale, and her eyes deeper than ever. He sat looking up at her +in a kind of maze as she poured out her words hot and fast. + +'I am not thinking of you.' His coldness had hurt her deeply. 'I +am selfish; I am thinking of myself. How shall I do? I have grown +to depend on you, to look to you. It is nothing to you that I go, +but to me--' She did not dare to finish. + +By this time Craig was standing before her, his face deadly pale. +When she came to the end of her words, he said, in a voice low, +sweet, and thrilling with emotion-- + +'Ah, if you only knew! Do not make me forget myself. You do not +guess what you are doing.' + +'What am I doing? What is there to know, but that you tell me +easily to go? She was struggling with the tears she was too proud +to let him see. + +He put his hands resolutely behind him, looking at her as if +studying her face for the first time. Under his searching look she +dropped her eyes, and the warm colour came slowly up into her neck +and face; then, as if with a sudden resolve, she lifted her eyes to +his, and looked back at him unflinchingly. + +He started, surprised, drew slowly near, put his hands upon her +shoulders, surprise giving place to wild joy. She never moved her +eyes; they drew him towards her. He took her face between his +hands, smiled into her eyes, kissed her lips. She did not move; he +stood back from her, threw up his head, and laughed aloud. She +came to him, put her head upon his breast, and lifting up her face +said, 'Kiss me.' He put his arms about her, bent down and kissed +her lips again, and then reverently her brow. Then putting her +back from him, but still holding both her hands, he cried-- + +'Not you shall not go. I shall never let you go.' + +She gave a little sigh of content, and, smiling up at him, said-- + +'I can go now'; but even as she spoke the flush died from her face, +and she shuddered. + +'Never!' he almost shouted; 'nothing shall take you away. We shall +work here together.' + +'Ah, if we could, if we only could,' she said piteously. + +'Why not?' he demanded fiercely. + +'You will send me away. You will say it is right for me to go,' +she replied sadly. + +'Do we not love each other?' was his impatient answer. + +'Ah! yes, love,' she said; 'but love is not all.' + +'No!' cried Craig; 'but love is the best' + +'Yes!' she said sadly; 'love is the best, and it is for love's sake +we will do the best.' + +'There is no better work than here. Surely this is best,' and he +pictured his plans before her. She listened eagerly. + +'Oh! if it should be right,' she cried, 'I will do what you say. +You are good, you are wise, you shall tell me.' + +She could not have recalled him better. He stood silent some +moments, then burst out passionately-- + +'Why then has love come to us? We did not seek it. Surely love is +of God. Does God mock us?' + +He threw himself into his chair, pouring out his words of +passionate protestation. She listened, smiling, then came to him +and, touching his hair as a mother might her child's, said-- + +'Oh, I am very happy! I was afraid you would not care, and I could +not bear to go that way.' + +'You shall not go,' he cried aloud, as if in pain. 'Nothing can +make that right.' + +But she only said, 'You shall tell me to-morrow. You cannot see +to-night, but you will see, and you will tell me.' + +He stood up and, holding both her hands, looked long into her eyes, +then turned abruptly away and went out. + +She stood where he left her for some moments, her face radiant, and +her hands pressed upon her heart. Then she came toward my room. +She found me busy with my painting, but as I looked up and met her +eyes she flushed slightly, and said-- + +'I quite forgot you.' + +'So it appeared to me.' + +'You heard?' + +'And saw,' I replied boldly. 'It would have been rude to +interrupt, you see.' + +'Oh, I am so glad and thankful.' + +'Yes; it was rather considerate of me.' + +'Oh, I don't mean that,' the flush deepening; 'I am glad you know.' + +'I have known some time.' + +'How could you? I only knew to-day myself.' + +'I have eyes.' She flushed again. + +'Do you mean that people--' she began anxiously. + +'No; I am not "people." I have eyes, and my eyes have been +opened.' + +'Opened?' + +'Yes, by love.' + +Then I told her openly how, weeks ago, I struggled with my heart +and mastered it, for I saw it was vain to love her, because she +loved a better man who loved her in return. She looked at me shyly +and said-- + +'I am sorry.' + +'Don't worry,' I said cheerfully. 'I didn't break my heart, you +know; I stopped it in time.' + +'Oh!' she said, slightly disappointed; then her lips began to +twitch, and she went off into a fit of hysterical laughter. + +'Forgive me,' she said humbly; 'but you speak as if it had been a +fever.' + +'Fever is nothing to it,' I said solemnly. 'It was a near thing.' +At which she went off again. I was glad to see her laugh. It gave +me time to recover my equilibrium, and it relieved her intense +emotional strain. So I rattled on some nonsense about Craig and +myself till I saw she was giving no heed, but thinking her own +thoughts: and what these were it was not hard to guess. + +Suddenly she broke in upon my talk-- + +'He will tell me that I must go from him.' + +'I hope he is no such fool,' I said emphatically and somewhat +rudely, I fear; for I confess I was impatient with the very +possibility of separation for these two, to whom love meant so +much. Some people take this sort of thing easily and some not so +easily; but love for a woman like this comes once only to a man, +and then he carries it with him through the length of his life, and +warms his heart with it in death. And when a man smiles or sneers +at such love as this, I pity him, and say no word, for my speech +would be in an unknown tongue. So my heart was sore as I sat +looking up at this woman who stood before me, overflowing with the +joy of her new love, and dully conscious of the coming pain. But I +soon found it was vain to urge my opinion that she should remain +and share the work and life of the man she loved. She only +answered-- + +'You will help him all you can, for it will hurt him to have me +go.' + +The quiver in her voice took out all the anger from my heart, and +before I knew I had pledged myself to do all I could to help him. + +But when I came upon him that night, sitting in the light of his +fire, I saw he must be let alone. Some battles we fight side by +side, with comrades cheering us and being cheered to victory; but +there are fights we may not share, and these are deadly fights +where lives are lost and won. So I could only lay my hand upon his +shoulder without a word. He looked up quickly, read my face, and +said, with a groan-- + +'You know?' + +'I could not help it. But why groan?' + +'She will think it right to go,' he said despairingly. + +'Then you must think for her; you must bring some common-sense to +bear upon the question.' + +'I cannot see clearly yet,' he said; 'the light will come.' + +'May I show you how I see it?' I asked. + +'Go on,' he said. + +For an hour I talked; eloquently, even vehemently urging the reason +and right of my opinion. She would be doing no more than every +woman does, no more than she did before; her mother-in-law had a +comfortable home, all that wealth could procure, good servants, and +friends; the estates could be managed without her personal +supervision; after a few years' work here they would go east for +little Majorie's education; why should two lives be broken?--and so +I went on. + +He listened carefully, even eagerly. + +'You make a good case,' he said, with a slight smile. 'I will take +time. Perhaps you are right. The light will come. Surely it will +come. But,' and here he sprang up and stretched his arms to full +length above his head, 'I am not sorry; whatever comes I am not +sorry. It is great to have her love, but greater to love her as I +do. Thank God! nothing can take that away. I am willing, glad to +suffer for the joy of loving her.' + +Next morning, before I was awake, he was gone, leaving a note for +me:-- + + +'MY DEAR CONNOR,--I am due at the Landing. When I see you again I +think my way will be clear. Now all is dark. At times I am a +coward, and often, as you sometimes kindly inform me, an ass; but I +hope I may never become a mule. + +I am willing to be led, or want to be, at any rate. I must do the +best--not second best--for her, for me. The best only is God's +will. What else would you have? Be good to her these days, dear +old fellow.--Yours, CRAIG.' + + +How often those words have braced me he will never know, but I am a +better man for them: 'The best only is God's will. What else would +you have?' I resolved I would rage and fret no more, and that I +would worry Mrs. Mavor with no more argument or expostulation, but, +as my friend had asked, 'Be good to her.' + + +CHAPTER XII + +LOVE IS NOT ALL + + +Those days when we were waiting Craig's return we spent in the +woods or on the mountain sides, or down in the canyon beside the +stream that danced down to meet the Black Rock river, I talking and +sketching and reading, and she listening and dreaming, with often a +happy smile upon her face. But there were moments when a cloud of +shuddering fear would sweep the smile away, and then I would talk +of Craig till the smile came back again. + +But the woods and the mountains and the river were her best, her +wisest, friends during those days. How sweet the ministry of the +woods to her! The trees were in their new summer leaves, fresh and +full of life. They swayed and rustled above us, flinging their +interlacing shadows upon us, and their swaying and their rustling +soothed and comforted like the voice and touch of a mother. And +the mountains, too, in all the glory of their varying robes of +blues and purples, stood calmly, solemnly about us, uplifting our +souls into regions of rest. The changing lights and shadows +flitted swiftly over their rugged fronts, but left them ever as +before in their steadfast majesty. 'God's in His heaven.' What +would you have? And ever the little river sang its cheerful +courage, fearing not the great mountains that threatened to bar its +passage to the sea. Mrs. Mavor heard the song and her courage +rose. + +'We too shall find our way,' she said, and I believed her. + +But through these days I could not make her out, and I found myself +studying her as I might a new acquaintance. Years had fallen from +her; she was a girl again, full of young warm life. She was as +sweet as before, but there was a soft shyness over her, a half- +shamed, half-frank consciousness in her face, a glad light in her +eyes that made her all new to me. Her perfect trust in Craig was +touching to see. + +'He will tell me what to do,' she would say, till I began to +realise how impossible it would be for him to betray such trust, +and be anything but true to the best. + +So much did I dread Craig's home-coming, that I sent for Graeme and +old man Nelson, who was more and more Graeme's trusted counsellor +and friend. They were both highly excited by the story I had to +tell, for I thought it best to tell them all; but I was not a +little surprised and disgusted that they did not see the matter in +my light. In vain I protested against the madness of allowing +anything to send these two from each other. Graeme summed up the +discussion in his own emphatic way, but with an earnestness in his +words not usual with him. + +'Craig will know better than any of us what is right to do, and he +will do that, and no man can turn him from it; and,' he added, 'I +should be sorry to try.' + +Then my wrath rose, and I cried-- + +'It's a tremendous shame! They love each other. You are talking +sentimental humbug and nonsense!' + +'He must do the right,' said Nelson in his deep, quiet voice. + +'Right! Nonsense! By what right does he send from him the woman +he loves?' + +'"He pleased not Himself,"' quoted Nelson reverently. + +'Nelson is right,' said Graeme. 'I should not like to see him +weaken.' + +'Look here,' I stormed; 'I didn't bring you men to back him up in +his nonsense. I thought you could keep your heads level.' + +'Now, Connor,' said Graeme, 'don't rage--leave that for the +heathen; it's bad form, and useless besides. Craig will walk his +way where his light falls; and by all that's holy, I should hate to +see him fail; for if he weakens like the rest of us my North Star +will have dropped from my sky.' + +'Nice selfish spirit,' I muttered. + +'Entirely so. I'm not a saint, but I feel like steering by one +when I see him.' + +When after a week had gone, Craig rode up one early morning to his +shack door, his face told me that he had fought his fight and had +not been beaten. He had ridden all night and was ready to drop +with weariness. + +'Connor, old boy,' he said, putting out his hand; 'I'm rather +played. There was a bad row at the Landing. I have just closed +poor Colley's eyes. It was awful. I must get sleep. Look after +Dandy, will you, like a good chap?' + +'Oh, Dandy be hanged,!' I said, for I knew it was not the fight, +nor the watching, nor the long ride that had shaken his iron nerve +and given him that face. 'Go in and lie down I'll bring you +something.' + +'Wake me in the afternoon,' he said; 'she is waiting. Perhaps you +will go to her'--his lips quivered--'my nerve is rather gone.' +Then with a very wan smile he added, 'I am giving you a lot of +trouble.' + +'You go to thunder!' I burst out, for my throat was hot and sore +with grief for him. + +'I think I'd rather go to sleep,' he replied, still smiling. I +could not speak, and was glad of the chance of being alone with +Dandy. + +When I came in I found him sitting with his head in his arms upon +the table fast asleep. I made him tea, forced him to take a warm +bath, and sent him to bed, while I went to Mrs. Mavor. I went with +a fearful heart, but that was because I had forgotten the kind of +woman she was. + +She was standing in the light of the window waiting for me. Her +face was pale but steady, there was a proud light in her fathomless +eyes, a slight smile parted her lips, and she carried her head like +a queen. + +'Come in,' she said. 'You need not fear to tell me. I saw him +ride home. He has not failed, thank God! I am proud of him; I +knew he would be true. He loves me'--she drew in her breath +sharply, and a faint colour tinged her cheek--'but he knows love is +not all--ah, love is not all! Oh! I am glad and proud!' + +'Glad!' I gasped, amazed. + +'You would not have him prove faithless!' she said with proud +defiance. + +'Oh, it is high sentimental nonsense,' I could not help saying. + +'You should not say so,' she replied, and her voice rang clear. +'Honour, faith, and duty are sentiments, but they are not +nonsense.' + +In spite of my rage I was lost in amazed admiration of the high +spirit of the woman who stood up so straight before me. But, as I +told how worn and broken he was, she listened with changing colour +and swelling bosom, her proud courage all gone, and only love, +anxious and pitying, in her eyes. + +'Shall I go to him?' she asked with timid eagerness and deepening +colour. + +'He is sleeping. He said he would come to you,' I replied. + +'I shall wait for him,' she said softly, and the tenderness in her +tone went straight to my heart, and it seemed to me a man might +suffer much to be loved with love such as this. + +In the early afternoon Graeme came to her. She met him with both +hands outstretched, saying in a low voice-- + +'I am very happy.' + +'Are you sure?' he asked anxiously. + +'Oh, yes,' she said, but her voice was like a sob; 'quite, quite +sure.' + +They talked long together till I saw that Craig must soon be +coming, and I called Graeme away. He held her hands, looking +steadily into her eyes and said-- + +'You are better even than I thought; I'm going to be a better man.' + +Her eyes filled with tears, but her smile did not fade as she +answered-- + +'Yes! you will be a good man, and God will give you work to do.' + +He bent his head over her hands and stepped back from her as from a +queen, but he spoke no word till we came to Craig's door. Then he +said with humility that seemed strange in him, 'Connor, that is +great, to conquer oneself. It is worth while. I am going to try.' + +I would not have missed his meeting with Craig. Nelson was busy +with tea. Craig was writing near the window. He looked up as +Graeme came in, and nodded an easy good-evening; but Graeme strode +to him and, putting one hand on his shoulder, held out his other +for Craig to take. + +After a moment's surprise, Craig rose to his feet, and, facing him +squarely, took the offered hand in both of his and held it fast +without a word. Graeme was the first to speak, and his voice was +deep with emotion-- + +'You are a great man, a good man. I'd give something to have your +grit.' + +Poor Craig stood looking at him, not daring to speak for some +moments, then he said quietly-- + +'Not good nor great, but, thank God, not quite a traitor.' + +'Good man!' went on Graeme, patting him on the shoulder. 'Good +man! But it's tough.' + +Craig sat down quickly, saying, 'Don't do that, old chap!' + +I went up with Craig to Mrs. Mavor's door. She did not hear us +coming, but stood near the window gazing up at the mountains. She +was dressed in some rich soft stuff, and wore at her breast a bunch +of wild-flowers. I had never seen her so beautiful. I did not +wonder that Craig paused with his foot upon the threshold to look +at her. She turned and saw us. With a glad cry, 'Oh! my darling; +you have come to me,' she came with outstretched arms. I turned +and fled, but the cry and the vision were long with me. + +It was decided that night that Mrs. Mavor should go the next week. +A miner and his wife were going east, and I too would join the +party. + +The camp went into mourning at the news; but it was understood that +any display of grief before Mrs. Mavor was bad form. She was not +to be annoyed. + +But when I suggested that she should leave quietly, and avoid the +pain of saying good-bye, she flatly refused-- + +'I must say good-bye to every man. They love me and I love them.' + +It was decided, too, at first, that there should be nothing in the +way of a testimonial, but when Craig found out that the men were +coming to her with all sorts of extraordinary gifts, he agreed that +it would be better that they should unite in one gift. So it was +agreed that I should buy a ring for her. And were it not that the +contributions were strictly limited to one dollar, the purse that +Slavin handed her when Shaw read the address at the farewell supper +would have been many times filled with the gold that was pressed +upon the committee. There were no speeches at the supper, except +one by myself in reply on Mrs. Mavor's behalf. She had given me +the words to say, and I was thoroughly prepared, else I should not +have got through. I began in the usual way: 'Mr. Chairman, ladies +and gentlemen, Mrs. Mavor is--' but I got no further, for at the +mention of her name the men stood on the chairs and yelled until +they could yell no more. There were over two hundred and fifty of +them, and the effect was overpowering. But I got through my +speech. I remember it well. It began-- + +'Mrs. Mavor is greatly touched by this mark of your love, and she +will wear your ring always with pride.' And it ended with-- + +'She has one request to make, that you will be true to the League, +and that you stand close about the man who did most to make it. +She wishes me to say that however far away she may have to go, she +is leaving her heart in Black Rock, and she can think of no greater +joy than to come back to you again.' + +Then they had 'The Sweet By and By,' but the men would not join in +the refrain, unwilling to lose a note of the glorious voice they +loved to hear. Before the last verse she beckoned to me. I went +to her standing by Craig's side as he played for her. 'Ask them to +sing,' she entreated; 'I cannot bear it.' + +'Mrs. Mavor wishes you to sing in the refrain,' I said, and at once +the men sat up and cleared their throats. The singing was not +good, but at the first sound of the hoarse notes of the men Craig's +head went down over the organ, for he was thinking I suppose of the +days before them when they would long in vain for that thrilling +voice that soared high over their own hoarse tones. And after the +voices died away he kept on playing till, half turning toward him, +she sang alone once more the refrain in a voice low and sweet and +tender, as if for him alone. And so he took it, for he smiled up +at her his old smile full of courage and full of love. + +Then for one whole hour she stood saying good-bye to those rough, +gentle-hearted men whose inspiration to goodness she had been for +five years. It was very wonderful and very quiet. It was +understood that there was to be no nonsense, and Abe had been heard +to declare that he would 'throw out any cotton-backed fool who +couldn't hold himself down,' and further, he had enjoined them to +remember that 'her arm wasn't a pump-handle.' + +At last they were all gone, all but her guard of honour--Shaw, +Vernon Winton, Geordie, Nixon, Abe, Nelson, Craig, and myself. + +This was the real farewell; for, though in the early light of the +next morning two hundred men stood silent about the stage, and then +as it moved out waved their hats and yelled madly, this was the +last touch they had of her hand. Her place was up on the driver's +seat between Abe and Mr. Craig, who held little Marjorie on his +knee. The rest of the guard of honour were to follow with Graeme's +team. It was Winton's fine sense that kept Graeme from following +them close. 'Let her go out alone,' he said, and so we held back +and watched her go. + +She stood with her back towards Abe's plunging four-horse team, and +steadying herself with one hand on Abe's shoulder, gazed down upon +us. Her head was bare, her lips parted in a smile, her eyes +glowing with their own deep light; and so, facing us, erect and +smiling, she drove away, waving us farewell till Abe swung his team +into the canyon road and we saw her no more. A sigh shuddered +through the crowd, and, with a sob in his voice, Winton said: 'God +help us all.' + +I close my eyes and see it all again. The waving crowd of dark- +faced men, the plunging horses, and, high up beside the driver, the +swaying, smiling, waving figure, and about all the mountains, +framing the picture with their dark sides and white peaks tipped +with the gold of the rising sun. It is a picture I love to look +upon, albeit it calls up another that I can never see but through +tears. + +I look across a strip of ever-widening water, at a group of men +upon the wharf, standing with heads uncovered, every man a hero, +though not a man of them suspects it, least of all the man who +stands in front, strong, resolute, self-conquered. And, gazing +long, I think I see him turn again to his place among the men of +the mountains, not forgetting, but every day remembering the great +love that came to him, and remembering, too, that love is not all. +It is then the tears come. + +But for that picture two of us at least are better men to-day. + + +CHAPTER XIII + +HOW NELSON CAME HOME + + +Through the long summer the mountains and the pines were with me. +And through the winter, too, busy as I was filling in my Black Rock +sketches for the railway people who would still persist in ordering +them by the dozen, the memory of that stirring life would come over +me, and once more I would be among the silent pines and the mighty +snow-peaked mountains. And before me would appear the red-shirted +shantymen or dark-faced miners, great, free, bold fellows, driving +me almost mad with the desire to seize and fix those swiftly +changing groups of picturesque figures. At such times I would drop +my sketch, and with eager brush seize a group, a face, a figure, +and that is how my studio comes to be filled with the men of Black +Rock. There they are all about me. Graeme and the men from the +woods, Sandy, Baptiste, the Campbells, and in many attitudes and +groups old man Nelson; Craig, too, and his miners, Shaw, Geordie, +Nixon, and poor old Billy and the keeper of the League saloon. + +It seemed as if I lived among them, and the illusion was greatly +helped by the vivid letters Graeme sent me from time to time. +Brief notes came now and then from Craig too, to whom I had sent a +faithful account of how I had brought Mrs. Mavor to her ship, and +of how I had watched her sail away with none too brave a face, as +she held up her hand that bore the miners' ring, and smiled with +that deep light in her eyes. Ah! those eyes have driven me to +despair and made me fear that I am no great painter after all, in +spite of what my friends tell me who come in to smoke my good +cigars and praise my brush. I can get the brow and hair, and mouth +and pose, but the eyes! the eyes elude me--and the faces of Mrs. +Mavor on my wall, that the men praise and rave over, are not such +as I could show to any of the men from the mountains. + +Graeme's letters tell me chiefly about Craig and his doings, and +about old man Nelson; while from Craig I hear about Graeme, and how +he and Nelson are standing at his back, and doing what they can to +fill the gap that never can be filled. The three are much +together, I can see, and I am glad for them all, but chiefly for +Craig, whose face, grief-stricken but resolute, and often gentle as +a woman's, will not leave me nor let me rest in peace. + +The note of thanks he sent me was entirely characteristic. There +were no heroics, much less pining or self-pity. It was simple and +manly, not ignoring the pain but making much of the joy. And then +they had their work to do. That note, so clear, so manly, so nobly +sensible, stiffens my back yet at times. + +In the spring came the startling news that Black Rock would soon be +no more. The mines were to close down on April 1. The company, +having allured the confiding public with enticing descriptions of +marvellous drifts, veins, assays, and prospects, and having +expended vast sums of the public's money in developing the mines +till the assurance of their reliability was absolutely final, +calmly shut down and vanished. With their vanishing vanishes Black +Rock, not without loss and much deep cursing on the part of the men +brought some hundreds of miles to aid the company in its +extraordinary and wholly inexplicable game. + +Personally it grieved me to think that my plan of returning to +Black Rock could never be carried out. It was a great compensation, +however, that the three men most representative to me of that life +were soon to visit me actually in my own home and den. Graeme's +letter said that in one month they might be expected to appear. At +least he and Nelson were soon to come, and Craig would soon follow. + +On receiving the great news, I at once looked up young Nelson and +his sister, and we proceeded to celebrate the joyful prospect with +a specially good dinner. I found the greatest delight in picturing +the joy and pride of the old man in his children, whom he had not +seen for fifteen or sixteen years. The mother had died some five +years before, then the farm was sold, and the brother and sister +came into the city; and any father might be proud of them. The son +was a well-made young fellow, handsome enough, thoughtful, and +solid-looking. The girl reminded me of her father. The same +resolution was seen in mouth and jaw, and the same passion +slumbered in the dark grey eyes. She was not beautiful, but she +carried herself well, and one would always look at her twice. It +would be worth something to see the meeting between father and +daughter. + +But fate, the greatest artist of us all, takes little count of the +careful drawing and the bright colouring of our fancy's pictures, +but with rude hand deranges all, and with one swift sweep paints +out the bright and paints in the dark. And this trick he served me +when, one June night, after long and anxious waiting for some word +from the west, my door suddenly opened and Graeme walked in upon me +like a spectre, grey and voiceless. My shout of welcome was choked +back by the look in his face, and I could only gaze at him and wait +for his word. He gripped my hand, tried to speak, but failed to +make words come. + +'Sit down, old man,' I said, pushing, him into my chair, 'and take +your time.' + +He obeyed, looking up at me with burning, sleepless eyes. My heart +was sore for his misery, and I said: 'Don't mind, old chap; it +can't be so awfully bad. You're here safe and sound at any rate,' +and so I went on to give him time. But he shuddered and looked +round and groaned. + +'Now look here, Graeme, let's have it. When did you land here? +Where is Nelson? Why didn't you bring him up?' + +'He is at the station in his coffin,' he answered slowly. + +'In his coffin?' I echoed, my beautiful pictures all vanishing. +'How was it?' + +'Through my cursed folly,' he groaned bitterly. + +'What happened?' I asked. But ignoring my question, he said: 'I +must see his children. I have not slept for four nights. I hardly +know what I am doing; but I can't rest till I see his children. I +promised him. Get them for me.' + +'To-morrow will do. Go to sleep now, and we shall arrange +everything to-morrow,' I urged. + +'No!' he said fiercely; 'to-night--now!' + +In half an hour they were listening, pale and grief-stricken, to +the story of their father's death. + +Poor Graeme was relentless in his self-condemnation as he told how, +through his 'cursed folly,' old Nelson was killed. The three, +Craig, Graeme, and Nelson, had come as far as Victoria together. +There they left Craig, and came on to San Francisco. In an evil +hour Graeme met a companion of other and evil days, and it was not +long till the old fever came upon him. + +In vain Nelson warned and pleaded. The reaction from the monotony +and poverty of camp life to the excitement and luxury of the San +Francisco gaming palaces swung Graeme quite off his feet, and all +that Nelson could do was to follow from place to place and keep +watch. + +'And there he would sit,' said Graeme in a hard, bitter voice, +'waiting and watching often till the grey morning light, while my +madness held me fast to the table. One night,' here he paused a +moment, put his face in his hands and shuddered; but quickly he was +master of himself again, and went on in the same hard voice--'One +night my partner and I were playing two men who had done us up +before. I knew they were cheating, but could not detect them. +Game after game they won, till I was furious at my stupidity in not +being able to catch them. Happening to glance at Nelson in the +corner, I caught a meaning look, and looking again, he threw me a +signal. I knew at once what the fraud was, and next game charged +the fellow with it. He gave me the lie; I struck his mouth, but +before I could draw my gun, his partner had me by the arms. What +followed I hardly know. While I was struggling to get free, I saw +him reach for his weapon; but, as he drew it, Nelson sprang across +the table, and bore him down. When the row was ever, three men lay +on the floor. One was Nelson; he took the shot meant for me.' + +Again the story paused. + +'And the man that shot him?' + +I started at the intense fierceness in the voice, and, looking upon +the girl, saw her eyes blazing with a terrible light. + +'He is dead,' answered Graeme indifferently. + +'You killed him?' she asked eagerly. + +Graeme looked at her curiously, and answered slowly-- + +'I did not mean to. He came at me. I struck him harder than I +knew. He never moved.' + +She drew a sigh of satisfaction, and waited. + +'I got him to a private ward, had the best doctor in the city, and +sent for Craig to Victoria. For three days we thought he would +live--he was keen to get home; but by the time Craig came we had +given up hope. Oh, but I was thankful to see Craig come in, and +the joy in the old man's eyes was beautiful to see. There was no +pain at last, and no fear. He would not allow me to reproach +myself, saying over and over, "You would have done the same for +me"--as I would, fast enough--"and it is better me than you. I am +old and done; you will do much good yet for the boys." And he kept +looking at me till I could only promise to do my best. + +'But I am glad I told him how much good he had done me during the +last year, for he seemed to think that too good to be true. And +when Craig told him how he had helped the boys in the camp, and how +Sandy and Baptiste and the Campbells would always be better men for +his life among them, the old man's face actually shone, as if light +were coming through. And with surprise and joy he kept on saying, +"Do you think so? Do you think so? Perhaps so, perhaps so." At +the last he talked of Christmas night at the camp. You were there, +you remember. Craig had been holding a service, and something +happened, I don't know what, but they both knew.' + +'I know,' I said, and I saw again the picture of the old man under +the pine, upon his knees in the snow, with his face turned up to +the stars. + +'Whatever it was, it was in his mind at the very last, and I can +never forget his face as he turned it to Craig. One hears of such +things: I had often, but had never put much faith in them; but joy, +rapture, triumph, these are what were in his face, as he said, his +breath coming short, "You said--He wouldn't--fail me--you were +right--not once--not once--He stuck to me--I'm glad he told me-- +thank God--for you--you showed--me--I'll see Him--and--tell Him--' +And Craig, kneeling beside him so steady--I was behaving like a +fool--smiled down through his streaming tears into the dim eyes so +brightly, till they could see no more. Thank him for that! He +helped the old man through, and he helped me too, that night, thank +God!' And Graeme's voice, hard till now, broke in a sob. + +He had forgotten us, and was back beside his passing friend, and +all his self-control could not keep back the flowing tears. + +'It was his life for mine,' he said huskily. + +The brother and sister were quietly weeping, but spoke no word, +though I knew Graeme was waiting for them. + +I took up the word, and told of what I had known of Nelson, and his +influence upon the men of Black Rock. They listened eagerly +enough, but still without speaking. There seemed nothing to say, +till I suggested to Graeme that he must get some rest. Then the +girl turned to him, and, impulsively putting out her hand, said-- + +'Oh, it is all so sad; but how can we ever thank you?' + +'Thank me!' gasped Graeme. 'Can you forgive me? I brought him to +his death.' + +'No, no! You must not say so,' she answered hurriedly. 'You would +have done the same for him.' + +'God knows I would,' said Graeme earnestly; 'and God bless you for +your words!' And I was thankful to see the tears start in his dry, +burning eyes. + +We carried him to the old home in the country, that he might lie by +the side of the wife he had loved and wronged. A few friends met +us at the wayside station, and followed in sad procession along the +country road, that wound past farms and through woods, and at last +up to the ascent where the quaint, old wooden church, black with +the rains and snows of many years, stood among its silent graves. +The little graveyard sloped gently towards the setting sun, and +from it one could see, far on every side, the fields of grain and +meadowland that wandered off over softly undulating hills to meet +the maple woods at the horizon, dark, green, and cool. Here and +there white farmhouses, with great barns standing near, looked out +from clustering orchards. + +Up the grass-grown walk, and through the crowding mounds, over +which waves, uncut, the long, tangling grass, we bear our friend, +and let him gently down into the kindly bosom of mother earth, +dark, moist, and warm. The sound of a distant cowbell mingles with +the voice of the last prayer; the clods drop heavily with heart- +startling echo; the mound is heaped and shaped by kindly friends, +sharing with one another the task; the long rough sods are laid +over and patted into place; the old minister takes farewell in a +few words of gentle sympathy; the brother and sister, with +lingering looks at the two graves side by side, the old and the +new, step into the farmer's carriage, and drive away; the sexton +locks the gate and goes home, and we are left outside alone. + +Then we went back and stood by Nelson's grave. + +After a long silence Graeme spoke. + +'Connor, he did not grudge his life to me--and I think'--and here +the words came slowly--'I understand now what that means, "Who +loved me and gave Himself for me."' + +Then taking off his hat, he said reverently, 'By God's help +Nelson's life shall not end, but shall go on. Yes, old man!' +looking down upon the grave, 'I'm with you'; and lifting up his +face to the calm sky, 'God help me to be true.' + +Then he turned and walked briskly away, as one might who had +pressing business, or as soldiers march from a comrade's grave to a +merry tune, not that they have forgotten, but they have still to +fight. + +And this was the way old man Nelson came home. + + +CHAPTERS XIV. + +GRAEME'S NEW BIRTH + + +There was more left in that grave than old man Nelson's dead body. +It seemed to me that Graeme left part, at least, of his old self +there, with his dead friend and comrade, in the quiet country +churchyard. I waited long for the old careless, reckless spirit +to appear, but he was never the same again. The change was +unmistakable, but hard to define. He seemed to have resolved his +life into a definite purpose. He was hardly so comfortable a +fellow to be with; he made me feel even more lazy and useless than +was my wont; but I respected him more, and liked him none the less. +As a lion he was not a success. He would not roar. This was +disappointing to me, and to his friends and mine, who had been +waiting his return with eager expectation of tales of thrilling and +bloodthirsty adventure. + +His first days were spent in making right, or as nearly right as he +could, the break that drove him to the west. His old firm (and I +have had more respect for the humanity of lawyers ever since) +behaved really well. They proved the restoration of their +confidence in his integrity and ability by offering him a place in +the firm, which, however, he would not accept. Then, when he felt +clean, as he said, he posted off home, taking me with him. During +the railway journey of four hours he hardly spoke; but when we had +left the town behind, and had fairly got upon the country road that +led toward the home ten miles away, his speech came to him in a +great flow. His spirits ran over. He was like a boy returning +from his first college term. His very face wore the boy's open, +innocent, earnest look that used to attract men to him in his first +college year. His delight in the fields and woods, in the sweet +country air and the sunlight, was without bound. How often had we +driven this road together in the old days! + +Every turn was familiar. The swamp where the tamaracks stood +straight and slim out of their beds of moss; the brule, as we used +to call it, where the pine-stumps, huge and blackened, were half- +hidden by the new growth of poplars and soft maples; the big hill, +where we used to get out and walk when the roads were bad; the +orchards, where the harvest apples were best and most accessible-- +all had their memories. + +It was one of those perfect afternoons that so often come in the +early Canadian summer, before Nature grows weary with the heat. +The white gravel road was trimmed on either side with turf of +living green, close cropped by the sheep that wandered in flocks +along its whole length. Beyond the picturesque snake-fences +stretched the fields of springing grain, of varying shades of +green, with here and there a dark brown patch, marking a turnip +field or summer fallow, and far back were the woods of maple and +beech and elm, with here and there the tufted top of a mighty pine, +the lonely representative of a vanished race, standing clear above +the humbler trees. + +As we drove through the big swamp, where the yawning, haunted gully +plunges down to its gloomy depths, Graeme reminded me of that night +when our horse saw something in that same gully, and refused to go +past; and I felt again, though it was broad daylight, something of +the grue that shivered down my back, as I saw in the moonlight the +gleam of a white thing far through the pine trunks. + +As we came nearer home the houses became familiar. Every house had +its tale: we had eaten or slept in most of them; we had sampled +apples, and cherries, and plums from their orchards, openly as +guests, or secretly as marauders, under cover of night--the more +delightful way, I fear. Ah! happy days, with these innocent crimes +and fleeting remorses, how bravely we faced them, and how gaily we +lived them, and how yearningly we look back at them now! The sun +was just dipping into the tree-tops of the distant woods behind as +we came to the top of the last hill that overlooked the valley, in +which lay the village of Riverdale. Wooded hills stood about it on +three sides, and, where the hills faded out, there lay the mill- +pond sleeping and smiling in the sun. Through the village ran the +white road, up past the old frame church, and on to the white manse +standing among the trees. That was Graeme's home, and mine too, +for I had never known another worthy of the name. We held up our +team to look down over the valley, with its rampart of wooded +hills, its shining pond, and its nestling village, and on past to +the church and the white manse, hiding among the trees. The +beauty, the peace, the warm, loving homeliness of the scene came +about our hearts, but, being men, we could find no words. + +'Let's go,' cried Graeme, and down the hill we tore and rocked and +swayed to the amazement of the steady team, whose education from +the earliest years had impressed upon their minds the criminality +of attempting to do anything but walk carefully down a hill, at +least for two-thirds of the way. Through the village, in a cloud +of dust, we swept, catching a glimpse of a well-known face here and +there, and flinging a salutation as we passed, leaving the owner of +the face rooted to his place in astonishment at the sight of Graeme +whirling on in his old-time, well-known reckless manner. Only old +Dunc. M'Leod was equal to the moment, for as Graeme called out, +'Hello, Dunc.!' the old man lifted up his hands, and called back in +an awed voice: 'Bless my soul! is it yourself?' + +'Stands his whisky well, poor old chap!' was Graeme's comment. + +As we neared the church he pulled up his team, and we went quietly +past the sleepers there, then again on the full run down the gentle +slope, over the little brook, and up to the gate. He had hardly +got his team pulled up before, flinging me the lines, he was out +over the wheel, for coming down the walk, with her hands lifted +high, was a dainty little lady, with the face of an angel. In a +moment Graeme had her in his arms. I heard the faint cry, 'My boy, +my boy,' and got down on the other side to attend to my off horse, +surprised to find my hands trembling and my eyes full of tears. +Back upon the steps stood an old gentleman, with white hair and +flowing beard, handsome, straight, and stately--Graeme's father, +waiting his turn. + +'Welcome home, my lad,' was his greeting, as he kissed his son, and +the tremor of his voice, and the sight of the two men kissing each +other, like women, sent me again to my horses' heads. + +'There's Connor, mother!' shouted out Graeme, and the dainty little +lady, in her black silk and white lace, came out to me quickly, +with outstretched hands. + +'You, too, are welcome home,' she said, and kissed me. + +I stood with my hat off, saying something about being glad to come, +but wishing that I could get away before I should make quite a fool +of myself. For as I looked down upon that beautiful face, pale, +except for a faint flush upon each faded cheek, and read the story +of pain endured and conquered, and as I thought of all the long +years of waiting and of vain hoping, I found my throat dry and +sore, and the words would not come. But her quick sense needed no +words, and she came to my help. + +'You will find Jack at the stable,' she said, smiling; 'he ought to +have been here.' + +The stable! Why had I not thought of that before? Thankfully now +my words came-- + +'Yes, certainly, I'll find him, Mrs. Graeme. I suppose he's as +much of a scapegrace as ever, and off I went to look up Graeme's +young brother, who had given every promise in the old days of +developing into as stirring a rascal as one could desire; but who, +as I found out later, had not lived these years in his mother's +home for nothing. + +'Oh, Jack's a good boy,' she answered, smiling again, as she turned +toward the other two, now waiting for her upon the walk. + +The week that followed was a happy one for us all; but for the +mother it was full to the brim with joy. Her sweet face was full +of content, and in her eyes rested a great peace. Our days were +spent driving about among the hills, or strolling through the maple +woods, or down into the tamarack swamp, where the pitcher plants +and the swamp lilies and the marigold waved above the deep moss. +In the evenings we sat under the trees on the lawn till the stars +came out and the night dews drove us in. Like two lovers, Graeme +and his mother would wander off together, leaving Jack and me to +each other. Jack was reading for divinity, and was really a fine, +manly fellow, with all his brother's turn for rugby, and I took to +him amazingly; but after the day was over we would gather about the +supper table, and the talk would be of all things under heaven-- +art, football, theology. The mother would lead in all. How quick +she was, how bright her fancy, how subtle her intellect, and +through all a gentle grace, very winning and beautiful to see! + +Do what I would, Graeme would talk little of the mountains and his +life there. + +'My lion will not roar, Mrs. Graeme,' I complained; 'he simply will +not.' + +'You should twist his tail,' said Jack. + +'That seems to be the difficulty, Jack,' said his mother, 'to get +hold of his tale.' + +'Oh, mother,' groaned Jack; 'you never did such a thing before! +How could you? Is it this baleful Western influence?' + +'I shall reform, Jack,' she replied brightly. + +'But, seriously, Graeme,' I remonstrated, 'you ought to tell your +people of your life--that free, glorious life in the mountains.' + +'Free! Glorious! To some men, perhaps!' said Graeme, and then fell +into silence. + +But I saw Graeme as a new man the night he talked theology with his +father. The old minister was a splendid Calvinist, of heroic type, +and as he discoursed of God's sovereignty and election, his face +glowed and his voice rang out. + +Graeme listened intently, now and then putting in a question, as +one would a keen knife-thrust into a foe. But the old man knew his +ground, and moved easily among his ideas, demolishing the enemy as +he appeared, with jaunty grace. In the full flow of his triumphant +argument, Graeme turned to him with sudden seriousness. + +'Look here, father! I was born a Calvinist, and I can't see how +any one with a level head can hold anything else, than that the +Almighty has some idea as to how He wants to run His universe, and +He means to carry out His idea, and is carrying it out; but what +would you do in a case like this?' Then he told him the story of +poor Billy Breen, his fight and his defeat. + +'Would you preach election to that chap?' + +The mother's eyes were shining with tears. + +The old gentleman blew his nose like a trumpet, and then said +gravely-- + +'No, my boy, you don't feed babes with meat. But what came to +him?' + +Then Graeme asked me to finish the tale. After I had finished the +story of Billy's final triumph and of Craig's part in it, they sat +long silent, till the minister, clearing his throat hard and +blowing his nose more like a trumpet than ever, said with great +emphasis-- + +'Thank God for such a man in such a place! I wish there were more +of us like him.' + +'I should like to see you out there, sir,' said Graeme admiringly; +'you'd get them, but you wouldn't have time for election.' + +'Yes, yes!' said his father warmly; 'I should love to have a chance +just to preach election to these poor lads. Would I were twenty +years younger!' + +'It is worth a man's life,' said Graeme earnestly. His younger +brother turned his face eagerly toward the mother. For answer she +slipped her hand into his and said softly, while her eyes shone +like stars-- + +'Some day, Jack, perhaps! God knows.' But Jack only looked +steadily at her, smiling a little and patting her hand. + +'You'd shine there, mother,' said Graeme, smiling upon her; 'you'd +better come with me.' She started, and said faintly-- + +'With you?' It was the first hint he had given of his purpose. +'You are going back?' + +'What! as a missionary?' said Jack. + +'Not to preach, Jack; I'm not orthodox enough,' looking at his +father and shaking his head; 'but to build railroads and lend a +hand to some poor chap, if I can.' + +'Could you not find work nearer home, my boy?' asked the father; +'there is plenty of both kinds near us here, surely.' + +'Lots of work, but not mine, I fear,' answered Graeme, keeping his +eyes away from his mother's face. 'A man must do his own work.' + +His voice was quiet and resolute, and glancing at the beautiful +face at the end of the table, I saw in the pale lips and yearning +eyes that the mother was offering up her firstborn, that ancient +sacrifice. But not all the agony of sacrifice could wring from her +entreaty or complaint in the hearing of her sons. That was for +other ears and for the silent hours of the night. And next morning +when she came down to meet us her face was wan and weary, but it +wore the peace of victory and a glory not of earth. Her greeting +was full of dignity, sweet and gentle; but when she came to Graeme +she lingered over him and kissed him twice. And that was all that +any of us ever saw of that sore fight. + +At the end of the week I took leave of them, and last of all of the +mother. + +She hesitated just a moment, then suddenly put her hands upon my +shoulders and kissed me, saying softly, 'You are his friend; you +will sometimes come to me?' + +'Gladly, if I may,' I hastened to answer, for the sweet, brave face +was too much to bear; and, till she left us for that world of which +she was a part, I kept my word, to my own great and lasting good. +When Graeme met me in the city at the end of the summer, he brought +me her love, and then burst forth-- + +'Connor, do you know, I have just discovered my mother! I have +never known her till this summer.' + +'More fool you,' I answered, for often had I, who had never known a +mother, envied him his. + +'Yes, that is true,' he answered slowly; 'but you cannot see until +you have eyes.' + +Before he set out again for the west I gave him a supper, asking +the men who had been with us in the old 'Varsity days. I was +doubtful as to the wisdom of this, and was persuaded only by +Graeme's eager assent to my proposal. + +'Certainly, let's have them,' he said; 'I shall be awfully glad to +see them; great stuff they were.' + +'But, I don't know, Graeme; you see--well--hang it!--you know-- +you're different, you know.' + +He looked at me curiously. + +'I hope I can still stand a good supper, and if the boys can't +stand me, why, I can't help it. I'll do anything but roar, and +don't you begin to work off your menagerie act--now, you hear me!' + +'Well, it is rather hard lines that when I have been talking up my +lion for a year, and then finally secure him, that he will not +roar.' + +'Serve you right,' he replied, quite heartlessly; 'but I'll tell +you what I'll do, I'll feed! Don't you worry,' he adds soothingly; +'the supper will go.' + +And go it did. The supper was of the best; the wines first-class. +I had asked Graeme about the wines. + +'Do as you like, old man,' was his answer; 'it's your supper, but,' +he added, 'are the men all straight?' + +I ran them over in my mind. + +'Yes; I think so.' + +If not, don't you help them down; and anyway, you can't be too +careful. But don't mind me; I am quit of the whole business from +this out.' So I ventured wines, for the last time, as it happened. + +We were a quaint combination. Old 'Beetles,' whose nickname was +prophetic of his future fame as a bugman, as the fellows +irreverently said; 'Stumpy' Smith, a demon bowler; Polly Lindsay, +slow as ever and as sure as when he held the half-back line with +Graeme, and used to make my heart stand still with terror at his +cool deliberation. But he was never known to fumble nor to funk, +and somehow he always got us out safe enough. Then there was +Rattray--'Rat' for short--who, from a swell, had developed into a +cynic with a sneer, awfully clever and a good enough fellow at +heart. Little 'Wig' Martin, the sharpest quarter ever seen, and +big Barney Lundy, centre scrimmage, whose terrific roar and rush +had often struck terror to the enemy's heart, and who was Graeme's +slave. Such was the party. + +As the supper went on my fears began to vanish, for if Graeme did +not 'roar,' he did the next best thing--ate and talked quite up to +his old form. Now we played our matches over again, bitterly +lamenting the 'if's' that had lost us the championships, and wildly +approving the tackles that had saved, and the runs that had made +the 'Varsity crowd go mad with delight and had won for us. And as +their names came up in talk, we learned how life had gone with +those who had been our comrades of ten years ago. Some, success +had lifted to high places; some, failure had left upon the rocks, +and a few lay in their graves. + +But as the evening wore on, I began to wish that I had left out the +wines, for the men began to drop an occasional oath, though I had +let them know during the summer that Graeme was not the man he had +been. But Graeme smoked and talked and heeded not, till Rattray +swore by that name most sacred of all ever borne by man. Then +Graeme opened upon him in a cool, slow way-- + +'What an awful fool a man is, to damn things as you do, Rat. +Things are not damned. It is men who are; and that is too bad to +be talked much about but when a man flings out of his foul mouth +the name of Jesus Christ'--here he lowered his voice--'it's a +shame--it's more, it's a crime.' + +There was dead silence, then Rattray replied-- + +'I suppose you're right enough, it is bad form; but crime is rather +strong, I think.' + +'Not if you consider who it is,' said Graeme with emphasis. + +'Oh, come now,' broke in Beetles. 'Religion is all right, is a +good thing, and I believe a necessary thing for the race, but no +one takes seriously any longer the Christ myth.' + +'What about your mother, Beetles?' put in Wig Martin. + +Beetles consigned him to the pit and was silent, for his father was +an Episcopal clergyman, and his mother a saintly woman. + +'I fooled with that for some time, Beetles, but it won't do. You +can't build a religion that will take the devil out of a man on a +myth. That won't do the trick. I don't want to argue about it, +but I am quite convinced the myth theory is not reasonable, and +besides, it wont work.' + +'Will the other work?' asked Rattray, with a sneer. + +'Sure!' said Grame; 'I've seen it.' + +'Where?' challenged Rattray. 'I haven't seen much of it.' + +'Yes, you have, Rattray, you know you have,' said Wig again. But +Rattray ignored him. + +'I'll tell you, boys,' said Graeme. 'I want you to know, anyway, +why I believe what I do.' + +Then he told them the story of old man Nelson, from the old coast +days, before I knew him, to the end. He told the story well. The +stern fight and the victory of the life, and the self-sacrifice and +the pathos of the death appealed to these men, who loved fight and +could understand sacrifice. + +'That's why I believe in Jesus Christ, and that's why I think it a +crime to fling His name about!' + +'I wish to Heaven I could say that,' said Beetles. + +'Keep wishing hard enough and it will come to you,' said Graeme. + +'Look here, old chap,' said Rattray; 'you're quite right about +this; I'm willing to own up. Wig is correct. I know a few, at +least, of that stamp, but most of those who go in for that sort of +thing are not much account' + +'For ten years, Rattray,' said Graeme in a downright, matter-of- +fact way, 'you and I have tried this sort of thing'--tapping a +bottle--'and we got out of it all there is to be got, paid well for +it, too, and--faugh! you know it's not good enough, and the more +you go in for it, the more you curse yourself. So I have quit this +and I am going in for the other.' + +'What! going in for preaching?' + +'Not much--railroading--money in it--and lending a hand to fellows +on the rocks.' + +'I say, don't you want a centre forward?' said big Barney in his +deep voice. + +'Every man must play his game in his place, old chap. I'd like to +see you tackle it, though, right well,' said Graeme earnestly. And +so he did, in the after years, and good tackling it was. But that +is another story. + +'But, I say, Graeme,' persisted Beetles, 'about this business, do +you mean to say you go the whole thing--Jonah, you know, and the +rest of it?' + +Graeme hesitated, then said-- + +'I haven't much of a creed, Beetles; don't really know how much I +believe. But,' by this time he was standing, 'I do know that good +is good, and bad is bad, and good and bad are not the same. And I +know a man's a fool to follow the one, and a wise man to follow the +other, and,' lowering his voice, 'I believe God is at the back of a +man who wants to get done with bad. I've tried all that folly,' +sweeping his hand over the glasses and bottles, 'and all that goes +with it, and I've done with it' + +'I'll go you that far,' roared big Barney, following his old +captain as of yore. + +'Good man,' said Graeme, striking hands with him. + +'Put me down,' said little Wig cheerfully. + +Then I took up the word, for there rose before me the scene in the +League saloon, and I saw the beautiful face with the deep shining +eyes, and I was speaking for her again. I told them of Craig and +his fight for these men's lives. I told them, too, of how I had +been too indolent to begin. 'But,' I said, 'I am going this far +from to-night,' and I swept the bottles into the champagne tub. + +'I say,' said Polly Lindsay, coming up in his old style, slow but +sure, 'let's all go in, say for five years.' And so we did. We +didn't sign anything, but every man shook hands with Graeme. + +And as I told Craig about this a year later, when he was on his way +back from his Old Land trip to join Graeme in the mountains, he +threw up his head in the old way and said, 'It was well done. It +must have been worth seeing. Old man Nelson's work is not done +yet. Tell me again,' and he made me go over the whole scene with +all the details put in. + +But when I told Mrs. Mavor, after two years had gone, she only +said, 'Old things are passed away, all things are become new'; but +the light glowed in her eyes till I could not see their colour. +But all that, too, is another story. + + +CHAPTER XV + +COMING TO THEIR OWN + + +A man with a conscience is often provoking, sometimes impossible. +Persuasion is lost upon him. He will not get angry, and he looks +at one with such a far-away expression in his face that in striving +to persuade him one feels earthly and even fiendish. At least this +was my experience with Craig. He spent a week with me just before +he sailed for the Old Land, for the purpose, as he said, of getting +some of the coal dust and other grime out of him. + +He made me angry the last night of his stay, and all the more that +he remained quite sweetly unmoved. It was a strategic mistake of +mine to tell him how Nelson came home to us, and how Graeme stood +up before the 'Varsity chaps at my supper and made his confession +and confused Rattray's easy-stepping profanity, and started his own +five-year league. For all this stirred in Craig the hero, and he +was ready for all sorts of heroic nonsense, as I called it. We +talked of everything but the one thing, and about that we said not +a word till, bending low to poke my fire and to hide my face, I +plunged-- + +'You will see her, of course?' + +He made no pretence of not understanding but answered-- + +'Of course.' + +'There's really no sense in her staying over there,' I suggested. + +'And yet she is a wise woman,' he said, as if carefully considering +the question. + +'Heaps of landlords never see their tenants, and they are none the +worse.' + +'The landlords?' + +'No, the tenants.' + +'Probably, having such landlords.' + +'And as for the old lady, there must be some one in the connection +to whom it would be a Godsend to care for her.' + +'Now, Connor,' he said quietly, 'don't. We have gone over all +there is to be said. Nothing new has come. Don't turn it all up +again.' + +Then I played the heathen and raged, as Graeme would have said, +till Craig smiled a little wearily and said-- + +'You exhaust yourself, old chap. Have a pipe, do'; and after a +pause he added in his own way, 'What would you have? The path +lies straight from my feet. Should I quit it? I could not so +disappoint you--and all of them.' + +And I knew he was thinking of Graeme and the lads in the mountains +he had taught to be true men. It did not help my rage, but it +checked my speech; so I smoked in silence till he was moved to say-- + +'And after all, you know, old chap, there are great compensations +for all losses; but for the loss of a good conscience towards God, +what can make up?' + +But, all the same, I hoped for some better result from his visit to +Britain. It seemed to me that something must turn up to change +such an unbearable situation. + +The year passed, however, and when I looked into Craig's face again +I knew that nothing had been changed, and that he had come back to +take up again his life alone, more resolutely hopeful than ever. + +But the year had left its mark upon him too. He was a broader and +deeper man. He had been living and thinking with men of larger +ideas and richer culture, and he was far too quick in sympathy with +life to remain untouched by his surroundings. He was more tolerant +of opinions other than his own, but more unrelenting in his +fidelity to conscience and more impatient of half-heartedness and +self-indulgence. He was full of reverence for the great scholars +and the great leaders of men he had come to know. + +'Great, noble fellows they are, and extraordinarily modest,' he +said--'that is, the really great are modest. There are plenty of +the other sort, neither great nor modest. And the books to be +read! I am quite hopeless about my reading. It gave me a queer +sensation to shake hands with a man who had written a great book. +To hear him make commonplace remarks, to witness a faltering in +knowledge--one expects these men to know everything--and to +experience respectful kindness at his hands!' + +'What of the younger men?' I asked. + +'Bright, keen, generous fellows. In things theoretical, omniscient; +but in things practical, quite helpless. They toss about great +ideas as the miners lumps of coal. They can call them by their book +names easily enough, but I often wondered whether they could put +them into English. Some of them I coveted for the mountains. Men +with clear heads and big hearts, and built after Sandy M'Naughton's +model. It does seem a sinful waste of God's good human stuff to see +these fellows potter away their lives among theories living and +dead, and end up by producing a book! They are all either making or +going to make a book. A good thing we haven't to read them. But +here and there among them is some quiet chap who will make a book +that men will tumble over each other to read.' + +Then we paused and looked at each other. + +'Well?' I said. He understood me. + +'Yes!' he answered slowly, 'doing great work. Every one worships +her just as we do, and she is making them all do something worth +while, as she used to make us.' + +He spoke cheerfully and readily as if he were repeating a lesson +well learned, but he could not humbug me. I felt the heartache in +the cheerful tone. + +'Tell me about her,' I said, for I knew that if he would talk it +would do him good. And talk he did, often forgetting me, till, as +I listened, I found myself looking again into the fathomless eyes, +and hearing again the heart-searching voice. I saw her go in and +out of the little red-tiled cottages and down the narrow back lanes +of the village; I heard her voice in a sweet, low song by the bed +of a dying child, or pouring forth floods of music in the great new +hall of the factory town near by. But I could not see, though he +tried to show me, the stately gracious lady receiving the country +folk in her home. He did not linger over that scene, but went back +again to the gate-cottage where she had taken him one day to see +Billy Breen's mother. + +'I found the old woman knew all about me,' he said, simply enough; +'but there were many things about Billy she had never heard, and I +was glad to put her right on some points, though Mrs. Mavor would +not hear it.' + +He sat silent for a little, looking into the coals; then went on in +a soft, quiet voice-- + +'It brought back the mountains and the old days to hear again +Billy's tones in his mother's voice, and to see her sitting there +in the very dress she wore the night of the League, you remember-- +some soft stuff with black lace about it--and to hear her sing as +she did for Billy--ah! ah!' His voice unexpectedly broke, but in a +moment he was master of himself and begged me to forgive his +weakness. I am afraid I said words that should not be said--a +thing I never do, except when suddenly and utterly upset. + +'I am getting selfish and weak,' he said; 'I must get to work. I +am glad to get to work. There is much to do, and it is worth +while, if only to keep one from getting useless and lazy.' + +'Useless and lazy!' I said to myself, thinking of my life beside +his, and trying to get command of my voice, so as not to make quite +a fool of myself. And for many a day those words goaded me to work +and to the exercise of some mild self-denial. But more than all +else, after Craig had gone back to the mountains, Graeme's letters +from the railway construction camp stirred one to do unpleasant +duty long postponed, and rendered uncomfortable my hours of most +luxurious ease. Many of the old gang were with him, both of +lumbermen and miners, and Craig was their minister. And the +letters told of how he laboured by day and by night along the line +of construction, carrying his tent and kit with him, preaching +straight sermons, watching by sick men, writing their letters, and +winning their hearts; making strong their lives, and helping them +to die well when their hour came. One day, these letters proved +too much for me, and I packed away my paints and brushes, and made +my vow unto the Lord that I would be 'useless and lazy' no longer, +but would do something with myself. In consequence, I found myself +within three weeks walking the London hospitals, finishing my +course, that I might join that band of men who were doing something +with life, or, if throwing it away, were not losing it for nothing. +I had finished being a fool, I hoped, at least a fool of the +useless and luxurious kind. The letter that came from Graeme, in +reply to my request for a position on his staff, was characteristic +of the man, both new and old, full of gayest humour and of most +earnest welcome to the work. + +Mrs. Mavor's reply was like herself-- + +'I knew you would not long be content with the making of pictures, +which the world does not really need, and would join your friends +in the dear West, making lives that the world needs so sorely.' + +But her last words touched me strangely-- + +'But be sure to be thankful every day for your privilege. . . . It +will be good to think of you all, with the glorious mountains about +you, and Christ's own work in your hands. . . . Ah! how we would +like to choose our work, and the place in which to do it!' + +The longing did not appear in the words, but I needed no words to +tell me how deep and how constant it was. And I take some credit +to myself, that in my reply I gave her no bidding to join our band, +but rather praised the work she was doing in her place, telling her +how I had heard of it from Craig. + +The summer found me religiously doing Paris and Vienna, gaining a +more perfect acquaintance with the extent and variety of my own +ignorance, and so fully occupied in this interesting and wholesome +occupation that I fell out with all my correspondents, with the +result of weeks of silence between us. + +Two letters among the heap waiting on my table in London made my +heart beat quick, but with how different feelings: one from Graeme +telling me that Craig had been very ill, and that he was to take +him home as soon as he could be moved. Mrs. Mavor's letter told me +of the death of the old lady, who had been her care for the past +two years, and of her intention to spend some months in her old +home in Edinburgh. And this letter it is that accounts for my +presence in a miserable, dingy, dirty little hall running off a +close in the historic Cowgate, redolent of the glories of the +splendid past, and of the various odours of the evil-smelling +present. I was there to hear Mrs. Mavor sing to the crowd of +gamins that thronged the closes in the neighbourhood, and that had +been gathered into a club by 'a fine leddie frae the West End,' for +the love of Christ and His lost. This was an 'At Home' night, and +the mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, of all ages and +sizes were present. Of all the sad faces I had ever seen, those +mothers carried the saddest and most woe-stricken. 'Heaven pity +us!' I found myself saying; 'is this the beautiful, the cultured, +the heaven-exalted city of Edinburgh? Will it not, for this, be +cast down into hell some day, if it repent not of its closes and +their dens of defilement? Oh! the utter weariness, the dazed +hopelessness of the ghastly faces! Do not the kindly, gentle +church-going folk of the crescents and the gardens see them in +their dreams, or are their dreams too heavenly for these ghastly +faces to appear?' + +I cannot recall the programme of the evening, but in my memory- +gallery is a vivid picture of that face, sweet, sad, beautiful, +alight with the deep glow of her eyes, as she stood and sang to +that dingy crowd. As I sat upon the window-ledge listening to the +voice with its flowing song, my thoughts were far away, and I was +looking down once more upon the eager, coal-grimed faces in the +rude little church in Black Rock. I was brought back to find +myself swallowing hard by an audible whisper from a wee lassie to +her mother-- + +'Mither! See till yon man. He's greetin'.' + +When I came to myself she was singing 'The Land o' the Leal,' the +Scotch 'Jerusalem the Golden,' immortal, perfect. It needed +experience of the hunger-haunted Cowgate closes, chill with the +black mist of an eastern haar, to feel the full bliss of the vision +in the words-- + + + 'There's nae sorrow there, Jean, + There's neither cauld nor care, Jean, + The day is aye fair in + The Land o' the Leal.' + + +A land of fair, warm days, untouched by sorrow and care, would be +heaven indeed to the dwellers of the Cowgate. + +The rest of that evening is hazy enough to me now, till I find +myself opposite Mrs. Mavor at her fire, reading Graeme's letter; +then all is vivid again. + +I could not keep the truth from her. I knew it would be folly to +try. So I read straight on till I came to the words-- + +'He has had mountain fever, whatever that may be, and he will not +pull up again. If I can, I shall take him home to my mother'--when +she suddenly stretched out her hand, saying, 'Oh, let me read!' and +I gave her the letter. In a minute she had read it, and began +almost breathlessly-- + +'Listen! my life is much changed. My mother-in-law is gone; she +needs me no longer. My solicitor tells me, too, that owing to +unfortunate investments there is need of money, so great need, that +it is possible that either the estates or the works must go. My +cousin has his all in the works--iron works, you know. It would be +wrong to have him suffer. I shall give up the estates--that is +best.' She paused. + +'And come with me,' I cried. + +'When do you sail?' + +'Next week,' I answered eagerly. + +She looked at me a few moments, and into her eyes there came a +light soft and tender, as she said-- + +'I shall go with you.' + +And so she did; and no old Roman in all the glory of a Triumph +carried a prouder heart than I, as I bore her and her little one +from the train to Graeme's carriage, crying-- + +'I've got her.' + +But his was the better sense, for he stood waving his hat and +shouting-- + +'He's all right,' at which Mrs. Mavor grew white; but when she +shook hands with him, the red was in her cheek again. + +'It was the cable did it,' went on Graeme. 'Connor's a great +doctor! His first case will make him famous. Good prescription-- +after mountain fever try a cablegram!' And the red grew deeper in +the beautiful face beside us. + +Never did the country look so lovely. The woods were in their +gayest autumn dress; the brown fields were bathed in a purple haze; +the air was sweet and fresh with a suspicion of the coming frosts +of winter. But in spite of all the road seemed long, and it was as +if hours had gone before our eyes fell upon the white manse +standing among the golden leaves. + +'Let them go,' I cried, as Graeme paused to take in the view, and +down the sloping dusty road we flew on the dead run. + +'Reminds one a little of Abe's curves,' said Graeme, as we drew up +at the gate. But I answered him not, for I was introducing to each +other the two best women in the world. As I was about to rush into +the house, Graeme seized me by the collar, saying-- + +'Hold on, Connor! you forget your place, you're next.' + +'Why, certainly,' I cried, thankfully enough; 'what an ass I am!' + +'Quite true,' said Graeme solemnly. + +'Where is he?' I asked. + +'At this present moment?' he asked, in a shocked voice. 'Why, +Connor, you surprise me.' + +'Oh, I see!' + +'Yes,' he went on gravely; 'you may trust my mother to be +discreetly attending to her domestic duties; she is a great woman, +my mother.' + +I had no doubt of it, for at that moment she came out to us with +little Marjorie in her arms. + +'You have shown Mrs. Mavor to her room, mother, I hope,' said +Graeme; but she only smiled and said-- + +'Run away with your horses, you silly boy,' at which he solemnly +shook his head. 'Ah, mother, you are deep--who would have thought +it of you?' + +That evening the manse overflowed with joy, and the days that +followed were like dreams set to sweet music. + +But for sheer wild delight, nothing in my memory can quite come up +to the demonstration organised by Graeme, with assistance from +Nixon, Shaw, Sandy, Abe, Geordie, and Baptiste, in honour of the +arrival in camp of Mr. and Mrs. Craig. And, in my opinion, it +added something to the occasion, that after all the cheers for Mr. +and Mrs. Craig had died away, and after all the hats had come down, +Baptiste, who had never taken his eyes from that radiant face, +should suddenly have swept the crowd into a perfect storm of cheers +by excitedly seizing his tuque, and calling out in his shrill +voice-- + +'By gar! Tree cheer for Mrs. Mavor.' + +And for many a day the men of Black Rock would easily fall into the +old and well-loved name; but up and down the line of construction, +in all the camps beyond the Great Divide, the new name became as +dear as the old had ever been in Black Rock. + +Those old wild days are long since gone into the dim distance of +the past. They will not come again, for we have fallen into quiet +times; but often in my quietest hours I feel my heart pause in its +beat to hear again that strong, clear voice, like the sound of a +trumpet, bidding us to be men; and I think of them all--Graeme, +their chief, Sandy, Baptiste, Geordie, Abe, the Campbells, Nixon, +Shaw, all stronger, better for their knowing of him, and then I +think of Billy asleep under the pines, and of old man Nelson with +the long grass waving over him in the quiet churchyard, and all my +nonsense leaves me, and I bless the Lord for all His benefits, but +chiefly for the day I met the missionary of Black Rock in the +lumber-camp among the Selkirks. + + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Black Rock by Ralph Connor + diff --git a/old/blkrk10.zip b/old/blkrk10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..859931b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/blkrk10.zip |